"If she does," added Mrs. Moore in loud tones, which followed Agnes to the garden gate, "If she does, my word, won't I teach her to-"

The rest was lost and Agnes, too happy for forebodings, ran after her companions, forgetful of the fact that she had not a mouthful of dinner with her, and that she had breakfasted soon after

seven.

The wood was a delightful place: where, amongst the tall, whispering firtrees, wood-pigeons cooed and murmured, -where whole families of rabbits sported in and out of burrows hollowed in the sandy soil,-where ferns and mosses, and many a lovely wild flower, grew profusely, and where, in the later season, blackberries abounded. It was a very Paradise for holiday-makers.

All went on prosperously with the children until noon, when those who had dinners ate them, and those who had not were allowed to share with the more prudent. Margaret Gray offered Agnes part of hers, but she would not touch it.

"I'm not the least hungry," she said, "and if I was I would not take it, for you have given more than half to those children."

After it was over the girls gathered round Margaret, who, surrounded by an inner circle of the smallest, was astonishing them with a week-day story, no less marvellous a one than "Cinderella, or the little Glass Slipper." Agnes, who had been endeavouring, unsuccessfully, to keep them amused and release Margaret, but who had not Margaret's gift of storytelling, sat near, as glad to listen as any small child amongst them. At this moment she was addressed in a low voice by one of the girls in her own class, Jane Field by name :—

"Come away, Agnes Moore-do! How can you sit and listen to such stuff? as if anybody could ever believe a word of it. A glass slipper, indeed!"

66

Nobody expects it to be true, Jane. It is only to amuse the little ones, and I like it as much as they do."

As Agnes thus replied, she settled herself very comfortably on the moss beneath the large beech-tree which shaded them all from the hot sun. But, alas! her hour of temptation was come, her fondness for play and "fun," and her reluctance at any time to say No," were to be to her "an occasion of falling."

"She won't come!" said Jane, pretending to whisper to three other girls in the background.

"Oh, she's grown so good, she has," said Sarah Black; "you might have saved yourself the trouble. She never did such wicked things as we do. Oh, no, never!"

"It's very provoking," said Jane, who appeared much vexed-" very. But you're always stupid and ill-natured when I've anything to say to you," giving Agnes & push.

Agnes was seldom angry, but this roused her, and she sat up, saying,

"What did you do that for, Jane?"

But as she was about to say more, one of Jane's companions ran up to her with a great affectation of mystery, and whispering, "Never mind, Jane," she said, "we all know she's a bit rough sometimes, like Sarah. But I'm sure you are too good-natured to refuse us, Agnes. Now, do come. You always used to be ready for a bit of fun at Miss Wilson's. I know it's in you, for ail you're kept so strict. Margaret's so very particular, we don't want her to know; but I said to Sarah, and Jane, and Kate, there, if we can get Agnes Moore, shel do best of all. She's so good-natured, I says, 'she'll never tell tales, and I be lieve she would enjoy a bit of fun as much as any of us, at least she used at Miss Wilson's, and I know she's not changed,' I says. Now wasn't I right, dear? Come along and tell them so yourself."

Agnes hesitated; her vanity was touched, though in reality she had far rather have stayed where she was.

"You might just as well, you know," continued the tempter. "Miss Perkins couldn't speak a civil word for you this morning, though you are one of the oldest. You've no love to lose with her, for shell think just the same of you. She always does, unless, like Margaret, one could always be steady and proper. However. I can't, I know."

"No more can I," said Sarah Black, laughing at this last remark as if it was the best joke possible. And, what's more, I don't pretend to try. It's much worse to my mind wearing two sides, like; good in school, and bad out of it. Thats what I call deceit. Now I am always the same, one time with another."

This was strictly true, for Sarah Black had somehow got the name of being "the worst girl in the school."

"Come along, Agnes," cried impatient Jane; "come, we've had palaver enough. We all want you. What's the use of hanging back when you know you're longing to come as much as any of us? It's settled now, so no more nonsense."

I grieve to relate it, but the foolish

words of these girls, their flattery and false arguments, prevailed.

"Where are we going? and what do you want me for?" she said, as they drew her, still reluctant, further int: the wood. Why, I'll tell you one thing-you can get lots of lilies here for Miss May, and that'll please you, I know," said Louisa Hopper in her blandest tones.

"And we're going to do what I like much better," said Kate Painter. "We've got sixpence among us, all but a penny, and I know you have one, Agnes, for you pulled one out of your pocket in school only yesterday.'

"Yes, I have. But tell me what you are going to do?"

"That's right, give it to me," said Sarah Black, rudely snatching the penny from Agnes. "Well, we mean to buy some strawberries at the old man's cottage, here."

"How nice it will be, won't it, Agnes?" said Louisa. "And to get rid of all those tiresome children, too! Oh, dear, but I am sick of their noise and worrit!"

And, after that," added Louisa, "we're going for a real good game at ball, in that nice smooth green place with trees all round it; Fairy's Dingle,' they call it."

"Fairy's Dingle!" exclaimed Agnes, starting back, "why that's close to the marl-pit, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you call close to it. Why, it's ever so far before you get there. Father said so!" answered Jane.

Jane Flint's father was a woodman, so Agnes thought he must know.

At this moment a shrill voice was heard calling "Louie!" and Louisa Hopper's little sister, Carry, was seen running after them.

"Let's get hid," cried Louisa, "she'll run back if she sees us, and tell Margaret!"

"It's of no use," exclaimed Sarah Black," she does see us; tiresome little thing! You'll have to take her, or we shall have the whole lot of them after us. Or else you must go back yourself, Louisa."

"Thank you! and give you my twopence, I suppose, for your strawberries, you selfish thing!"

dog, which, she said, would rush out and bite her if she did not " hush."

Carry was a great favourite in the school, being a very sweet-tempered, sensible child, and she looked so scared and pale at this shocking story, that Agnes could not bear to see her; and, presently, when Louisa put her down to walk, giving her a good shake, and telling her she could not pretend to "hug a great heavy girl like her, the poor little thing clung trembling to Agnes, and would not leave hold of her hand.

This was very tiring work, as Carry was only five years old, and could not walk fast, and now that they had got her penny, the other girls did not seem to care about leaving her behind, and were at the cottage gate and had begun their strawberry feast before she could overtake them. However, selfish care for herself was far from being one of Agnes's failings, so she said nothing, and what few strawberries they allotted to her share, she gave to little Carry.

After a while Sarah Black sent Jane to ask the old gardener what o'clock it was. It had just struck four. "We shall have an hour's play if we make haste," she added.

"What is to become of that child, bothering?" said Sarah Black.

"Leave her at the cottage here till we come back, Louisa; I dare say they'll let you," suggested Jane Flint.

"Oh! I will be good, I will be so good, Louie! don't leave me! Do take me home, Agnes! " cried little Carry, who overheard the conversation, bursting into an agony of tears.

"What are you doing with that child?" cried the old gardener; "you're after some mischief; you're not treating it kindly, I'm sure."

"Horrid old man!" said Louisa to Jane, "what business has he to interfere. She's rather tired, sir, that's all," said this deceitful girl, aloud, turning to old Mr. Weedy, and speaking quite pleasantly, "we're going to lift her all the way now."

So saying, she took up her little sister in her arms, and said if she didn't stop crying she would call out the black dog to her in a moment.

Old Weedy, the gardener, eyed them with a very suspicious shake of the head, and when Agnes glanced round she saw him still leaning over the top of the gate, as if he did not at all like the look of things.

S. Augustine, particularly, mentions this custom, as he notices the renunciation of Paganism for Christianity made by the expiring Martialis, whose son-in-law, after praying with much fervour at the foot of an altar, carried off from it some of the flowers that were placed there, and conveyed them to the couch of his dying relative.

S. Paulinus, Bishop of Nola, seems to give us another instance of an early reference to the custom of using flowers for decoration, when describing the manner of celebrating the annual festival of his patron saint. The following are the lines, as they were written by him :—

"Ferte Deo, pueri, laudem, pia solvite vota, Spargite flore solum, prætexite limina sertis, Purpureum ver spiret hyems, sit floreus

annus,

Ante diem, sancto cedat natura diei."

Which we may, perhaps, translate thus:'Sing praises to your God, ye youths, and pay your holy vows!

The floor with many flowers strew, the threshold bind with boughs.

Let Winter breathe a fragrance forth, like as the purple Spring;

Let the young year, before the time, its floral treasures bring,

And Nature yield to this great Day herself an offering."

Again, S. Jerome, in writing of his friend Nepotian, tells us that his pious care for the Divine worship was such that he made flowers of many kinds and the leaves of trees and the branches of the vine contribute to the beauty and ornament of the church. "These things," continues S. Jerome, "were indeed, but trifling in themselves, but a pious mind, devoted to CHRIST, is intent upon small things as well as great, and neglects nothing that pertains even to the meanest office of the church."

It is not our purpose now to write either on the antiquity or propriety of this custom. We will suppose it admitted that it is an old custom, and, like many other old customs, a good one; and therefore at once come to the main object of this paper-namely, to give our readers what assistance we can in the actual work of decorating a church.

We have hopes of being useful, thanks chiefly to the kindness of those correspondents who have favoured us with hints and suggestions, and, as some have done, with designs also.

I. As to WREATHS AND GARLANDS.These are among the most graceful and effective of decorations; but there is often much labour and time and material ex

pended on them to very little purpose. It will be well, therefore, to describe the method which, in the course of long experience, has been found to be the best, and which is equally well adapted for large garlands, for hanging on the walls or wreathing round the pillars, as well as for the close, thick wreaths, to be set round the most delicate carving or mouldings.

To begin, a good supply of strong twine or cord is necessary, the strength of which is determined by the size and consequent weight of the garland. Next, some of the common iron wire (used chiefly for fastening the coarser kinds of wire-work), and which is sold in coils of different degrees of fineness, at about threepence or fourpence a pound. It should be of a size that may be readily cut with large common scissors, but strong enough to secure the boughs to the cord by merely bending it round them once or twice, and twisting the ends together.

It is not well to begin the work upon too long a piece of cord; two or three yards is enough. Tie one end to a firm support, then fasten small branches on to the cord at intervals of about two feet, by knotting the cord round each branch. This will prevent the remainder of the boughs, which are to be fastened on with the wire, from slipping out of their places.

The wire should be cut into pieces of from three to four inches in length, which can be readily wound once or twice round the string, together with the stem of the spray, and the ends being then twisted to. gether, they remain firm.

Begin with the larger, heavier kinds of evergreens, such as laurel of both kinds, arbutus, laurustinus, &c. Then fill in with the closer kinds-box, holly, yew, fir, privet, &c., until of sufficient thickness.

Then add either to the string or to the boughs already attached to it, sprays of variegated shrubs, bunches of berries, strings of ivy, &c.; the berries should be placed at intervals, and always against the darker-coloured leaves.

When one piece of cord is covered, lay it carefully aside, and take another in its place, until you have sufficient for the space they are to occupy in the church; then join them by tying the ends together, filling up any space, and making any additions that may be required when hung up in its place.

Avoid thick or bare stems, as they add greatly to the weight, and make the garland stiff and unmanageable, and endeavour as much as possible to place the leaves alternately, as in Fig. 1.