These words of the old man were, however, insufficient to encourage the timid Piger. He stood quailing before the fierce giant, and taking advantage of a moment of inattention in his adversary, he stepped aside amongst the thickets and trees of the forest. For a while he scrambled on through briar and brake, congratulating himself in escaping from his formidable enemy. Fear added swiftness to his flight, and he never stopped until he arrived breathless and exhausted at the brink of a fountain, far away from the course of the river. Here he stretched himself to rest, but was much alarmed to find that his white embroidered surcoat had been lost in his flight. Presently he approached the fountain in the hope of quenching his burning thirst, but a hissing serpent darting out its forked tongue forbade him to taste of the water. He started back with horror, and then perceived the venerable man approaching him from amongst the trees. Piger fell down at the old man's feet and besought him to assist him, and direct him to the right path. "My son," said he, "the only way to reach the sea where thou mayest find the precious pearl is by following the course of that stream from which thou hast diverged. It will be necessary for thee to retrace thy steps and recover thy surcoat."

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What," said Piger, "and encounter the fierce giant?" "Even so, my son; he is but one of the enemies that obstruct the path of those who are seeking the pearl of great price, and without subduing him thou canst never attain it."

At these words Piger fell into a deep melancholy. To face the giant he was too irresolute; even to retrace his steps he was too indolent. For some time he sat in doubt as to the course he should pursue. And now the shades of night were gathering fast around him. His venerable guide had departed, noxious damps exhaled from the earth, wild beasts began to roar aloud.

Then at length Piger wished to follow the counsel of the venerable man; but it was now too late, thick darkness fell upon him, he was soon entangled in the thicket, and ere the morning came was torn in pieces by the beasts of the forest.

We must now relate the fortunes of Candidus the youngest of the three sons. He set off on his journey with the earliest dawn, and had soon swum across the river, and received from the venerable man a suit of armour and a surcoat. He put them on with thankful heart, and threw himself on his knees to beg God's blessing; then he warmly thanked the venerable man for his offer of aid, which he promised to remember. He travelled on with diligent step, and after several days, passed without adventure, he arrived at the giant's forest. Here for fear of surprise he drew his sword, and commended himself to the aid of heaven. In the midst of the forest he met the terrible giant who had

attacked his brother Piger and had caused him to flee and lose himself in the forest. The giant called on Candidus to yield, and when he refused to do so, rushed on him with his club; but Candidus received his blows on his shield, and dealt such hard thrusts with his sword in return that the giant fled howling and wounded, and durst no more attack him.

When Candidus arrived at the wealthy city he was surrounded by the inhabitants, who congratulated him on his escape from the giant in the forest. But Candidus made light of it, and said that he had only met a cowardly giant who had run away after a few strokes. Then the people of the place greatly marvelled at the cool valour of Candidus, and invited him to the feasts and entertainments; but the venerable man who was present in the crowd whispered in his ear, "Candidus, beware, beware of selfindulgence." Whereupon the young prince thanked them for their courtesy, but declined their offer of entertainment, alleging that he was journeying by the command of his father in search of a precious pearl, and that the journey admitted no delay. Then the people of the place, seeing that he was bent on his duty, suffered him to proceed on his way.

So Candidus left the wealthy city and took his way along the sea coast. Sometimes he walked along the dry level sand, sometimes he climbed the jutting headlands. Onward he passed, not without toil and occasional weariness, but he had that within him which enabled him constantly to persevere. One day the sky was bright and the air mild, the next perhaps a violent hurricane swept the coast, and the angry waves lashed the rocks. Still Candidus proceeded onward on his journey with a resolute and cheerful spirit, nothing doubting that he should at last reach the spot where lay concealed the inestimable pearl.

As Candidus travelled onwards he met many persons, some of whom told him that the pearl was in one place and some in another. One told him that he had gone too far and must retrace his steps; another advised him to diverge from his straight course. Sometimes when he had arrived at a spot where those whom he had last met confidently affirmed that the pearl was lodged, no one knew aught about it, but told him it was further onward.

At last he met on the sea coast an aged man with quick piercing eyes, who was clad in loose flowing robes, ornamented with various hieroglyphics. Candidus accosted the aged man, and inquired of him if he could tell him where the pearl was to be found. The aged man looked keenly upon him, then bade him enter with him into his cave. They went together through a long winding passage until they arrived in the heart of a rock where the aged man dwelt. It was a large vaulted chamber lit

with many lamps. All around where spars and minerals, and metals, stuffed fishes, alligators, and snakes, together with globes, horoscopes, retorts, and crucibles.

"Doubt not," said the sharp old man, “that with the aid of the science which I possess, you may soon attain the precious pearl." So the sharp old man studied in his books, and mixed various ingredients in his crucibles. Then he drew lines and figures, and made calculations, and at last informed Candidus that he had discovered the place of the precious pearl, but in order to attain it, Candidus must first give up the white embroidered surcoat. The sharp old man looked quick and piercing, and Candidus in his simplicity might have been beguiled, but at that moment he felt a hand placed on his arm, and heard the voice of his venerable guide," Beware, Candidus, beware; never till death part with thy white surcoat."

Then Candidus looked with suspicion at the sharp old man, and declared that he would not part with his white surcoat; and immediately the old man's face assumed a fiendish expression, and after glaring on him terribly he vanished away with a loud explosion amidst the smoke of brimstone and sulphur.

Candidus with difficulty groped his way out of the dark cave, and again found himself on the shore of the sea.

Onward, onward still he travelled over rock and sand till he came to a quiet secluded cove, and there he saw a little child sitting by a boat; "Little child," said he, can you tell me where to find the precious pearl?"

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"Yes," said the little child, "it is amongst yon rocks.” "Who told thee so, little child?"

"The man that gave me this white coat," said the little child. Then Candidus observed that the little child had on a white surcoat like his own, embroidered with a red cross. And he took him up in his arms and kissed him. Then he said, "Little child, how shall I get to the rock where the precious pearl is found?"

Then said the little child, "Many have gone thither in this little boat, which I will lend to thee."

Then Candidus stepped into the little boat, and took the oars in his hand, and left the little child on the shore, for his time of crossing had not arrived. Then he rowed stoutly on for many hours, and seemed to approach no nearer to the rocks; but he rowed on and on, at last he seemed to be in a current which set onward toward the rocks, and presently he approached rapidly without effort on his part. And when he neared the rocks he heard a noise of waters, and saw the breakers beating angrily against them, so that he feared lest his boat should be dashed into pieces. But as he approached he perceived an opening in

the rocks, where the sea was calm, and thither he directed the boat; and the current bore him on until he entered the opening and passed onward through a dark cavern where the water was smooth and strong but the passage fearful, and he heard the waves dashing without, but where he was all was smooth but dark. Presently he arrived at an open space in the midst of the rocks, where there was pure sky above; and so tall were the rocks that you might see the bright stars of heaven. And the stars were reflected in the deep water.

And he heard a voice-the voice of his venerable guide. "Now, Candidus, wrap thy surcoat around thee, and dive down till thou hast found the precious pearl."

So he wrapped his surcoat round him, it was white and pure as when he first received it; and placing his hands over his head plunged down into the dark water. Down, down he went many fathoms deep, and the water gurgled in his ears and stopped his breathing; but before his eyes there was a dim lustrous spot, towards which he endeavoured to direct his course. And ever

as he grew weaker and weaker, the light grew brighter and brighter, until at length, with a last effort, he grasped the precious pearl.

Then a pleasing sleep stole gently over him, soft music floated around, he felt himself borne upward by gentle hands, his senses wandered for a while, and when at length he awoke, he found himself in the midst of his father's court, and was saluted as the inheritor of his father's kingdom.

THE CHURCH SETTLEMENT OF CANTERBURY IN NEW ZEALAND.

MOST of our readers must have heard, and some may have taken an interest in the Canterbury colony which is now being projected under the superintendence of a large and influential body of churchmen, comprising many of the leading members of both houses of parliament. In the hope of giving some useful information on this most important matter we willingly devote a few pages to the subject.

Without going into particulars or setting forth the premises, we will at once start with these two statements; first, that numbers of the upper classes have been deterred from emigrating by the dread of not finding in our colonies that spiritual and educational provision which abounds at home; and, second, that the means, not of advancing, but of preserving their position in society, of procuring employment for sons, and supplying the merest competence for

their daughters, is daily becoming more and more difficult. To these may be added a third, of which, however, few intending emigrants care to think, viz. the evils which none but a colonist can appreciate of the annoying and irritating interference of the mother country in the internal affairs of our colonies. It is this more than anything else that causes the strong republican feeling that to a great extent exists in all our settlements. It is this, and this only, which is now operating in our North American, South African, and our Australian possessions, to bring about the catastrophe of 1776, when to our own blundering mismanagement must be attributed the political anomaly of a crude republic springing out of the materials that originated from and ought to have ended in a constitutional monarchy.

Now it is with the express object of obviating the discouragements to the emigration of the upper classes of this country, that the Canterbury settlement has been formed. From its very outset will it possess all the best features of English life in conjunction with the peculiar advantages of a colony, consisting as it will of a complete section of society, comprising a relative proportion of each class, managing its own domestic affairs, possessing an endowed church, and its concomitant college and schools, having its population sufficiently scattered to give elbow room to all, and yet sufficiently condensed to keep up all neighbourly communication and for all parochial purposes, with a fertile soil, grateful temperature, and healthy climate, it is difficult to realize in full the peculiar benefits it holds out to the English churchman.

The leading principle of the Canterbury Association seems to be that the colonist is to pay for every advantage that is to be derived, and that in return he shall reap the full benefit of his payments; that he shall not be taxed for the mother country, nor the mother country for him. Thus, for instance, official patronage at Canterbury will be at the disposal of the colonists, or at least dispensed only to them, as is but reasonable. Again, in many of our settlements there is an almost entire absence of good roads, bridges, and other means of internal communication. At Canterbury these will be in all reasonable abundance, and there will be no lack of churches and schools to those who do not wilfully remove themselves from inhabited localities.

We will now proceed to analyse the principles upon which the sale of land is carried out. The uniform price is ten shillings per acre, with further charges to the amount of fifty shillings more, viz. ten shillings for survey, roads, &c., twenty shillings for passagemoney of the purchaser and his labourers, and twenty shillings for ecclesiastical and educational purposes. There is no doubt but that this is a much larger sum than is customarily charged in other settlements, but so far from thinking that land is dearer at Canterbury than elsewhere, we are just of a contrary opinion.