battles, but they are not necessarily suited to even our modern warfare. Prayer to Christ was avoided with a care that would satisfy Dr. Colenso. The Te Deum was recast, and even the Gloria Patri. Of course the product was an abortion, and is preserved by the curious simply as such. The Presbyterian Churches of America have recently published 'The Book of Common Prayer, and administration of the Sacra'ments, and other Rites and Ceremonies of the Church, as 'amended by the Westminster Assembly of Divines, in 1661.' This, we imagine, is pretty much what the Evangelicals desire. Within the last few months a number of Episcopalian clergymen and laymen, assisted by some Nonconformists, have completed an edition of the Book of Common Prayer, prepared for the use of Evangelical Churches,' a proof copy of which lies before us; as does also, separately printed, an 'Introduction' by one of the revisors. We regret that, through want of space, we are unable to do justice to the latter. Nothing can be more admirable than the emendations of this Prayer Book; nothing more Christian and amiable than the spirit of the Introduction. But we are constrained to confess that the adoption of any such revision seems to us utterly hopeless. For first, what possible effect could it have upon existing parties? It is not, we should think, imagined that any revision of formularies would lessen the radical doctrinal difficulties that lie beneath. Not only would these remain in all their strength and virulence, they would be aggravated by whatever additional emphasis might be given in the formularies to any of the doctrines in dispute. The wounds of schism might, as now, be covered, we cannot say concealed, by a common ritual; they would be neither probed nor healed. What probability is there, moreover, that with parties so evenly balanced such a revision will ever be accepted? It is true that in bulk the alterations are small; but the differences in doctrine which they represent are great and antagonistic. Is it, then, hoped that doctrinal opponents will accept a revision in which their beliefs are not only ignored, but by implication denied? or is it hoped, by such a revision, to repeat the old tactics of Sheldon, and drive them out ? In fairness, the final issue contemplated by the revisionists should be stated. There can be no doubt that in any attempted revision, the one party would be as tenacious as the other; and if either should succeed in expelling the other, the claim to be a National Church -already very dubious-would be reduced to dimensions simply ludicrous; which would make the Establishment not worth two years' purchase. We scarcely need say that our own doctrinal The Cry for Reunion. 127 sympathies are with Evangelicals; but this must not prevent our saying also, that any alteration of the formularies of the National Church exclusively in their favour, would be as unjust as we believe it to be impossible. The bearing of this state of things upon schemes of church comprehension can hardly be doubtful. The incongruities and dogmas of the Prayer Book, the controversies respecting them that are so fiercely raging, and the present state of things generally within the Establishment, present but little inducement to Nonconformists to re-enter her pale. For what conceivable reason should they? If in the dark days of disability and persecution, of social obloquy and numerical insignificance, they were so enamoured of freedom as to purchase it with a large sum, are they likely in the days of their strength, when the principles for which they have contended are universally admitted, and on the eve of their final triumph, to sell it for nought? How utterly hopeless must be the ignorance both of their principles and of the men that hold them, on the part of those who so amiably maunder about inviting Nonconformists to reunion with the Established Church; and who hold out to them as inducements, a modified Liturgy, and a few honied or even penitent words wrung from the necessity or the terror of their quondam oppressors! We yield to no one in our deep and sacred estimate of the unity of the Church of Christ, and in our yearning for its practical brotherhood; but even if this depended upon any forms of Ecclesiastical organization-which it does not there are great principles involved in this matter which we dare not sacrifice. If the Liturgy were made tomorrow all that Nonconformists could wish, it would not attract a solitary Nonconformist who is such upon any intelligent principles. The ground upon which the Nonconformist stands is a repudiation of the essential principles of State-churchism, and these are not affected by either doctrine or ritual. Nonconformists would equally object to a State Church, as such, were it in all other respects in perfect harmony with their own. In relation to the only unity of the Church that is worth caring for, they deem uniformity utterly unimportant; nay, were it possible, they would deprecate it, as inevitably pernicious to the freedom and vigour of all true life. Permitting the forms of church life and worship to be as diversified as circumstance and temperament may dictate, they care only that all their members should be manifestly one in religious life and brotherhood. In a subsequent article, we have treated more fully on this point. It is enough, therefore, here to say, that such an Ecclesiastical reunion of Nonconformists and the Established Church, as the Wolverhampton Conference desired, is as impossible as it is undesirable. Presbyterians and Congregationalists never talk of reunion; knowing that their church systems are incompatible, they respect each other's preferences, and are contented to live together in a brotherly sympathy and reciprocal help, which manifest themselves in interchange of ministerial service and in common action whenever circumstances seem to require it. We therefore frankly tell our Episcopal brethren that as far as relates to Nonconformists the only thing that can promote true brotherhood is, for them to renounce their invidious position, with its arrogant claims of superiority, and on equal terms to proffer a reciprocity of recognition and service; and we venture to add, that as far as relates to themselves, the only possible, the only honest course, for men who differ from each other so widely, as do the parties within the Establishment so widely, that is, as that they cannot join in a common fellowship of worship and of work-is to snap the encircling band which forcibly holds together such incongruous materials, and openly to resolve themselves into separate fellowships, freely and honestly constructing their confessions according to their respective convictions. Then each may really respect the other, and all may live and work together in the unity of the Spirit, in the bond of peace, and in righteousness of life. ART. IV. (1.)-Parables from Nature. By Mrs. ALFRED GATTY, 1865. (2.) Aunt Sally's Life. 1865. (3) Melchior's Dream. (4.) Guessing Stones. By the Rev. PHILIP FREEMAN. 1864. (5.) The Story of Papa's Wise Dogs. 1867. (6.) Our Four-footed Friends. By MARY HOWITT. (7.) Recollections of Harrow. 1867. (8.) Tossed on the Waves. By EDWIN HODDER. 1864. (10.) Lightsome and the Little Golden Lady. 1867. Juvenile Books of the Past. (15.) The Fairchild Family. 3 vols. 1856. 129 THE combination of instruction and amusement is presumably the aim and object of every writer of children's books. How difficult it is to blend these two unsympathetic elements without becoming prosy and wearisome is best known to those whose labours with the pen have lain in this particular district of the field of literature. As proof, for our own self-satisfaction, we have but to recall the long list of tedious and feeble productions of past years, which, ostensibly professing to be suited to juvenile readers, have been so overweighted and borne down at every page by the mistaken efforts of their authors to improve the occasion, no matter how inopportunely, that old as well as young have, with heavy eyes and muddled brains, thrown them down, half-read, in despair and disgust. Every character in them was utterly depraved and wicked, the good and the bad boy alike; the former little better than a whitened sepulchre, the latter a monster of iniquity and wickedness, whose fate hereafter was plainly foreshadowed in terms more forcible than elegant. Hell and the devil were dragged in at every available opportunity without the slightest regard to the context, till so much was said about them, that instead of playing the part of Bogey, as was intended, they came to be regarded quite as familiar acquaintances. Religious and secular things were jumbled up in wild and profane confusion; blind man's buff was made the occasion for a long sermon on the sin of selfishness, because one little boy wanted to be blind man all the time, to the exclusion of his companions, who also in their turn came in for a share of rebuke for being envious. Turn where you would, to the playground, to the schoolroom, homewards or abroad, it was always the same dreary, monotonous, never-ending dirge-'Naughty, naughty 'children, you are all utterly lost and wicked!' In short, the shape in which a good and merciful God was presented was not only terrifying, but repulsive; instead of inducing adoration and worship, confidence and love, the youthful imagination was disordered and affrighted by the picture of a stern and remorseless Judge, who sought rather to condemn than to save. Another grievous fault in these same books, whose titles we have no desire more particularly to mention, was the free and conversational style in which holy things were treated; Scriptural phrases were, what the authors termed, 'simplified,' to meet the capacities of NO. XCIII. K youthful readers; and on this pretence the name of God and of Jesus Christ were dragged in amongst a string of commonplaces, which were supposed more plainly to represent the meaning of the Bible writers. It is hardly necessary to exclaim against the execrably bad taste of such a heathen course of proceeding; the brains that could contemplate, and the hands that could carry out such a work of desecration, are obviously without the limits of criticism. Comment upon such people would only amount to abuse. But enough, of the shortcomings of nonentities, whose little day, if they ever had one at all, was very little indeed, and who, now buried away in the most obscure corners of their publishers' book-shelves, are forgotten by the world generally, and, as far as we are concerned, forgiven by us in particular. It is with a genuine feeling of pleasure and satisfaction that we turn to the more modern school of juvenile literature, and find a pure and wholesome atmosphere to breathe that reinvigorates and refreshes. There is no less effort made nowadays to combine instruction and amusement; there is the same earnest endeavour to adorn the tale by pointing a moral, but Bogey no longer asserts his sway: he has been slaughtered mercilessly, and hurried to an untimely end, with his long catalogue of sins and vices to keep him company in his dishonoured grave. There are good boys and naughty boys, good girls and naughty girls, as there always must be while the world goes on; but they are neither paragons of virtue nor monsters of iniquity, only very much like the real, living, breathing young people with whom we have to deal in the course of life's journey. It is an open question whether what are popularly termed good children are the most agreeable; we are not quite sure whether Master Pickle, with his wild vagaries and predilection for mischief, does not engage a larger share of attention and sympathy, than his more virtuous brothers and sisters, who never tear their jackets in romping, nor spill gravy down their clean pinafores at dinner! Although he will climb trees in his new trousers, and unsuccessfully attempt to make a conjuror's plum cake in his best hat, to the utter ruin and destruction of both articles of costume; in fact, despite his being an incorrigible young scamp, it is extraordinary what a general public favourite he is. Papa and mamma, when reading aloud to their young people about his 'tricks and manners,' instead of frowning at his depravity, seem, on the contrary, rather amused than otherwise, and laugh as loudly and heartily as the juveniles when the aforesaid Master Pickle has got into some sad scrape. And why not? Who can help liking such a lad as Melchior? Though he is outwardly very obstinate and selfish, and thinks |