Auld Lang Syne;"

OR, RECOLLECTIONS OF LIFE IN YORKSHIRE.

II.-The Day-School.

"Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school."-Shakespeare.

THERE might have been some "whining" in my case: and I dare say
there was.
But if so it was short lived, for my mother was too sensible
a woman to permit any amount of "whining" to purchase a half-holiday.
To school I must go, and all the lessons there imposed I must learn.
She would never intercede for any abatement. For that I am more
thankful now than when I was a boy. As to " creeping like snail
unwillingly to school," I plead "not guilty." The fact was, our school
had a bell, which the master rang at the hour; and as I could generally
hear the bell whether at home or at play, its first sound was the signal
to scamper off and get in before the master had done.

The first exercise was reading the Scriptures, which the master always prefaced with the collect beginning "Blessed Lord, who hast caused all Holy Scriptures to be written for our learning."

The school was mainly supported by some charity, and conducted under the management of trustees. I cannot give particulars. I only know that the trustees (one of whom was the vicar) came and sat every half-year to receive rents from certain farmers, to pay salaries, to examine the scholars and give prizes, and also to see to the inmates of four almshouses which belonged to the same charity. Being under the wing of the Established Church, we had to learn the Church catechism. Thus I was duly instructed "to order myself lowly and reverently to all my betters:" but, sad to relate! the only instance in which I ever played truant was occasioned by the catechism. Failing one day to repeat the portion I should have said, I was kept in to learn it after the others had gone. The master threatened that if I didn't learn it directly he would put me up the chimney. To me that was a terrible threat, and so, seeing the door of the school wide open, and waiting till master and monitor were both engaged behind the desk, I threw down the catechism, snatched up my cap, and ran home as fast as my legs could carry me. That made another difficulty, harder to get over than the catechism. I durst not return. For four days I set off as usual at the school hour, and returned with "an unerring instinct" at meal times; but I never went to school. On the fourth day my grandmother happening to take a quiet morning's walk found me in the lane playing at marbles. She took me off to the schoolmaster forthwith, heard the whole story, and procured for me both at school and at home that recompense of my error which was meet.

I got on better with other things than with the catechism. Dictation I liked very much, and also arithmetic. During the writing exercise I one day learned something more than to make light up-strokes and heavy down-strokes. Having a copy-book without headings, and the master not being at hand, I ventured to set a copy for myself. I had

some dim remembrance of a motto which ran

"Better be poor than I couldn't tell what. But not liking to stick fast for a word, I tried to think of as proper a thing as I could, and wrote, "Better be poor than rich." When I had got half-way down the page, the master came to look over. "My dear boy," said he, "what are you writing?" "A copy, sir. Isn't it right ?" I replied. "No, indeed," said he; and with considerable enthusiasm he found fault with my maxim, pointing out in the end that I should have written, "Better be poor than wicked." From that hour I learned to weigh the utterances which passed current as popular truths, and now I am at one with Charles Lamb, who treats many of them as "popular fallacies.”

At history we had a plan of cheating the master. He would require us to learn by heart a given paragraph; but knowing that we always stood round in a certain order, and that we were asked in turn to repeat to a full stop, we used to count the periods, and arrange the night before which part it would be our turn to say. In that way we had only to learn a few lines each instead of a long paragraph. The plan worked well for a while, and we chuckled with glee at getting through the task so lightly. But alas! on one fated morning when, as we said, the master had got off the wrong side of the bed, he began at the wrong end of the class. The first boy, charitably supposing that the master had made a mistake, gave the answer as usual. "No," said the master, "I wish to begin at the other end this morning." Then came the end of our scheming. Not a boy could say his part. The fraud was discovered and the cane applied.

Once when the master had left the school for a little time we locked him out. As many of us as could, clustered round the key, and putting our hands one on the top of the other we gave a turn all of us together and locked the door. He returned and tried the door. In vain. He cried, "Open the door." No answer. He knocked louder, and waxing angry threatened us severely. At last a tall thin boy whom we called "Tin Ribs" slipped from his seat, turned the key, and hastened back. The master asked each boy in turn, "Did you lock me out, sir ?" But each individual boy, strong in the consciousness that he had only done a fractional part of the locking, replied, "No, sir." The consequence was we were all kept in school half an hour longer on that day.

The master had a cork leg, and so well did it fit him, that if he were standing still it was not easy to tell the one from the other. An amusement we occasionally ventured on was to stick pins into the calf of this cork leg (He is in no danger of being hurt by the mention of it), till sometimes the pins would look "like quills upon the fretful porcupine." There was just enough of risk in the game to give it a wonderful relish, especially in fixing the first pin. The legs being so much alike, now and then some unlucky wight would stick the pin into the wrong calf. The effect was magical. Talk about stimulants. A hogshead of Bass's beer would not have stimulated the master half so much. Dear friends, suffer the word of exhortation. If ever you want a stimulant, don't be at the expense of beer, wine, or spirits. A pin carefully inserted in the calf of the leg will be far cheaper and far more effectual.

Notwithstanding all these things, work was done, and as the halfyearly examinations came round, prizes were obtained. I well remember

THE NEW CHAPEL AT FLEET.

57

taking the last I ever had at that school. It was during the Crimean war, and the examiner (the vicar before mentioned) taking a map of Europe, gave me a quill pen and asked me to point out the way our ships would take to reach the Black Sea. I did it, and carried off my final prize, a Bible.

I have no bitter memories of school. I was flogged occasionally; but even that was according to merit. The master was a good one. He knew Latin, French, and Greek very well; and sometimes when we were reading the Scriptures he would playfully ask one of us to look over with him and read out of the Greek Testament, which of course we couldn't do, and wondered much how anybody could. I called on the old gentleman once or twice during the vacations, when I was a student at Chilwell. He seemed pleased to recognise me; but what pleased me most was that I had three games at draughts with him and I won two out of the three. That seemed to puzzle him as much as ever I had been puzzled at school, and I said within myself, "Now we are quits;" for I felt that my turn had come at last.

J. FLETCHER.

The New Chapel at Fleet.

THE New Chapel, which is a neat, commodious, and attractive building, was opened Dec. 6th; J. Clifford, M.A., preaching twice. Rev. J. C. Jones, M.A., preached Sunday, Dec. 10th, and Rev. T. Goadby, B.A., Dec. 17th. C. Roberts, Esq., presided at the last of the opening services on Monday, Dec. 18th, and addresses were given by the Revs. T. Barrass, J. C. Jones, M.A., and G. Towler. The pastor said, amongst other things, "Six months ago the foundation stone of this building was laid, and Phoenix-like, this new building has risen from the ruins of the past venerable place in which our fathers met to worship God, and from which many have passed away to the heavenly rest. The old place was glorious for the glorious deeds done in it by those who were not ashamed of their Nonconformity in the deeds of heroic daring in the days of crucial persecution: and our earnest wish is that this new "Home of Prayer" may be still more glorious, through the clearer light which we have received from the fuller revelation of the Gospel of God's dear Son as the accepted sacrifice for the sin of the human race; and from the religious and civil privileges which we inherit from the struggles, faith, penalties, and sacrifices endured by our fathers, as seeing Him who is invisible."

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The pastor thanked the friends for entertaining the ministers, collectors, and toilers at the bazaar, (which realized £35), Messrs. Freeman and Son, Mr. Mortlock, and all the co-workers in this great work; and after reading over the financial account, he said there was left to work for about £600. At the close of the statement the pastor drew the attention of the friends to a silver service, consisting of two plates and two cups, costing upwards of £40, procured from Mrs. Rippin, of Holbeach, with the following inscription "Presented by Mrs. Ann Wilkinson, for the perpetual use of the General Baptist Church, Fleet, December 6th, 1876."

On December 19th the Sunday school children and teachers met to take tea in their new school-room to celebrate its opening.

5

The Chapel Graces.

Do you know them? If not make their acquaintance immediately. Every member of the church should be adorned with them. A deacon without them is like a bell without a clapper, a lofty house without stairs, or a wife without love. And an elder or pastor without them is twice as bad. But every one professing the doctrine, i.e., the teaching of Jesus, should possess them, so that the Divine Word may be set in a framework of beauty; and be like apples of gold in pictures of silver.

History tells of a Persian king who was much amused by observing that the golden vessel which people despised whilst it was used as a footbath was looked upon with admiring wonder when he had it set up as an ornament in the temple, and yet the gold was the same all the time; and from the scene he concluded that a man of originally humble position may make a very respectable king if he is only set on a throne: but we may add the inference, that the gold of Christ's truth set in the temple of the human affections will display unsurpassable charms, though whilst it is used only in the currency of every day life and work it may pass almost unnoticed. The Christianity that helps and enriches us will impress and influence others quite as much by the graceful or graceless setting we give it as by its own inherent worth and power. One dead fly spoils the costliest ointment. One bad habit mars the beauty of a character, and destroys the good effect of a life. Even an active and zealous church may injure its work and worship by most unlovely ways.

Of CHAPEL GRACES, the first is PUNCTUALITY. Always be there before the clock strikes. As it is ill-breeding to come to dinner habitually late, so it shows a want of thought and care and of fitting interest to hurry into the house of God after the service has commenced. "Better late than never," of course; but much better early than late. Worship never seems so hearty and welcome as when the whole congregation joins in the first words of prayer, or the first song of praise to Him who waits in Zion for the love and adoration of His people.

The second grace is CHEERFUL REVERENCE. Dulness and insipidity are as unlovely as boisterous heedlessness. Cold propriety is as repulsive as a nauseating frivolity. It is "the house of God, and the gate of heaven;" therefore should we be reverent; but it is our Father's house, and therefore ought we to be cheerful and bright, happy and jubilant. The worship that does not nourish reverence can scarcely be called Divine, and that which does not ring with the melody of holy mirth is surely not fit for sorrowful and care-pressed men. I have been into chapels where if the people had been bowing before the Omnipotent Destroyer they could not have been more oppressively gloomy or stolidly funereal. How is it likely men will believe we have any gospel for them, or even any living and loving God at all if our worship of the All-redeeming Father is not resonant with holy joy and instinct with soul-quickening hopefulness?

Twin-sister to this grace is that of HEARTINESS AND GLOW in our Sabbath devotion. God is love, life, light, and blessedness. He is the sole, all-diffused, all conquering life of nature; and His Son is given to us that we may have life and have it more abundantly. How, then, can

our souls be dull and sluggish and apathetic before Him? He is our Light. Surely His beams will kindle us into warmth, and grace us with beauty as morning beams the afore-darkened earth. He lives in us, who is the very fulness of life, verily He will flush every nerve and vein with beating force and eager consecration. Dulness in the worship of God is at once an unpardonable sin, and the grossest of inconsistencies. We ought, also, to be clothed with the grace of LOVING-KINDNESS; never suffering strangers to come and go without a friendly recognition, always making them to feel that they have not missed their way and strayed into forbidden paths; but have come amongst friends and brothers who will consider their needs and rejoice in their presence and co-operation in the service of the common Father of us all. How ungracious it is to compel that stranger, who, owing to the lateness of your arrival has been put into your pew, to change his place! Why not atone for your want of punctuality by showing that you are delighted that at least this good has come of it, that you have an opportunity of showing yourself friendly! Instead of that, you add to your first fault by standing at the head of your pew and waiting till the unfortunate visitor has been led out and into other quarters, and then you sit in the serene consciousness of having maintained your rights purchased by the paltry sum of "five shillings" or less "per quarter," rights, which, being interpreted, are the power to misrepresent Christianity, to wound and injure your neighbour, and instead of adorning, to discredit the doctrine of God your Saviour in those things that belong to His house and worship. If you did what you ought you would clothe yourself in the sackcloth of repentance, and sit in the ashes of self-rebuke for the rest of the week.

The brotherhood of men waits to find its most practical embodiment in the Church of the Lord Jesus Christ, and its most lovely and graceful illustrations in every service we conduct. We meet, like the early Christians, to worship" Christ as God;" but also to worship Him as the Brother and Saviour of men; and therefore the love of true brothers, kindled within us by Him, should display itself in manly courtesies and kindly services, in sympathetic speech and helpful deed. Let the church awake and put on this beautiful garment, and her charms will be irresistible and her victories without limit. Wanting this she lacks the secret of success. The door of the church is bolted and barred to thousands of men kept on the threshold of the church; and some colour is given to the statement I heard the other day from a nonworshipper, "your chapels are only Sunday clubs, supported by wellto-do men for their Sabbath morning amusement." Let us change all this, and force the world to admire the heroism of our love and selfsacrifice; and admiration shall prepare the way of faith, and faith lead to hearty fellowship in the love of God and the service of the world.

Adorned with these and kindred graces the dullest barn will be filled with beauty and rich in power; whilst a chapel that is a model of architectural skill, and a service that is æsthetically perfect and intellectually strong but where the worshippers are gloomy and dull, uncourteous and indifferent to visitors, and smitten with the blinding and divisive castes of the outer world, will be as repulsive as "a workhouse" to an independent spirit, or the cells of a prison to an honest soul. JOHN CLIFFORD.