Priory, whose windows were lit up by the moon, and beyond the graceful walls and arches of the ruined chancel, festooned here and there with ivy, and illumined by the mellow glow of the moonlight, while a dark shadow lay far across the dewy grass.

"How beautiful," was the exclamation from all but Magdalene, who was unable to speak from downright joy, and indeed, after the first exclamation they were all silent; Frank took off his hat, and breathed a silent thanksgiving; like his sister, he was entranced with delight, and felt unable to do more than thank the Giver of "all good gifts."

At last Mr. Laing broke the silence. "Well, I never imagined we should see anything half so exquisite; look how the sparkling river winds round the abbey walls, and seems to lose itself among the moonlit woods."

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Yes," said Amy, "and that wide sweep of turf, just beyond the water, all glittering in the silver light, with here and there a dark spot where a tree throws its shadow, and then, just opposite us, that black wooded cliff under which we hear the water rippling in the gloom, and then again winding round towards Bolton Bridge in the full moonlight."

"Bravo, Amy," said John, "you really have a capital eye for the picturesque. What do you think of it all, Maida ?”

"Oh, I cannot say. I have not Amy's powers of description, but indeed I never saw anything so beautiful."

'Yes, indeed, I think we may say, 'earth has not anything to show so fair.'

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It will be a joy to me to look back on all my life, and be thankful for," said Frank, in a low voice, "but, John, what a great contrast there is between the massiveness of the nave and the light gracefulness of the chancel; the ruins do not seem to be extensive though."

John then led the others by the little path which runs below the slight eminence on which the abbey stands, down past the moonlit pile, to the white shelving sand which forms the shore of the Wharfe, and, after gazing straight into the broken eastern window, and admiring the warm moonlight effect on the eastern wall of the nave, they walked up into the churchyard, and from thence to the rail which separates the abbey grounds from Bolton woods.

"Hark! what is that ?" said Magdalene, starting, as they stood by the railing gazing at the dark mass of the abbey which shut out the moonlight.

"What?" inquired John.

"That noise, listen, it comes from the wood behind us.”

"Do you mean that shrill cry? ?"

"Yes."

"That is a short-eared owl, the people about call them grey owls, they are only seen in Yorkshire; but look, Maida, there goes a fox the other side of the water," and he pointed out to his cousin a small dark object moving stealthily across the moonlit grass.

"I don't wish to disturb you," said Mr. Laing, starting with a shiver, "but it is really too cold to stay here any longer."

"I think you are right, uncle, what is the time?"

"A quarter past ten," said Amy.

"Then we had better go back, the walk will warm us.'

When they reached the hotel, Amy complained of being tired, and retired to rest at once, while the others adjourned to the little smokingroom, which cannot be regarded as a very comfortable apartment, but might be worse. Candles having been lighted, and glasses of hot Scotch whiskey and water having been placed before Mr. Laing, Campbell, and Armstrong, the waiter brought in bedroom candles, and withdrew after wishing the party good night.

"Do you never smoke, uncle ?" asked Frank.

"Well, I used to do so once, Frank.”

"Do try now; and if Maida will smoke a cigarette, I will make one up for her."

Magdalene laughed and shook her head.

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'No, thank you, Frank, I don't mind sitting with you while you smoke, but I am not up to joining you."

"Poor Amy seems knocked up," said John.

"Yes," answered Mr. Laing, "excitement soon tires her, but she will be well to-morrow. I think I will take a pipe; thanks," as the clergyman handed him a long clay, can you spare me some tobacco, John ?"

"Yes, uncle, best Bristol bird's-eye,” and in a few moments he was puffing away vigorously.

"I feel like a woman under a cloud," said Magdalene with a smile, "the air is somewhat dense."

"Imagine yourself a maiden martyr at the stake," remarked John, "with the blue smoke curling round your head."

"For shame, John, to joke about such a subject."

"Well it was only fun. I never tease Maida."

"And Maida must be going to bed, for it is nearly eleven,” answered Magdalene rising.

Couldn't you stay a little longer?" asked John, "but no, I know you don't like being kept, good night, Maida."

"Good night," and having kissed her brother and Mr. Laing, and shaken hands with John, Magdalene took up her candle and departed. "How fresh and bright she looks," said Mr. Laing, "not at all like poor Amy, but I hope she will soon be in bed."

"I don't suppose she will be in bed much before twelve. I know she seldom is at home," answered Frank.

Why, what on earth does she sit up for ?"

"For the best of occupations, to read and pray." "She must say very long prayers, then."

"I don't imagine she confines herself to any special form, I think the length of her prayers depends on the overflowing of her heart. She always reminds me of one of the old saints."

"Then," said Mr. Laing, "I suppose you often pray together."

"Yes, Uncle John, we do. I don't wish to say too much about Maida, but prayer seems always her great resource during her few leisure hours."

“Oh," said Mr. Laing, "how few consider it more than a duty.” "Or, you may say, a charm, uncle," said John. "I have known many men who would be afraid to enter the train to go to their offices if they had not said two or three prayers after dressing."

"And yet it is a blessing that men do have and feel that fear of neglecting prayer."

"But they would feel just as uncomfortable, Frank, if they had not shaved," answered John, somewhat bitterly.

"Still, depend upon it, prayer is never wasted."

"What? if it be said as a mere form ?"

"Can it be said as a mere form? No doubt none of us think enough of what we say when praying, but I doubt if men especially can say their prayers as a form. Do you know, John, that unlike many clergymen, I like to see men of all sorts attend our high celebrations and join equally with the most devout of my parishioners in the most

sacred utterances, because I feel that I know in the office or countinghouse or shop, the thought will arise when a man is hesitating between right and wrong, 'What was I saying last Sunday? was I not joining in the angelic hymn, 'Holy, holy, holy, LORD GOD of Hosts ?'" and the speaker bowed his head reverently, "what am I about to do now ?'" "That is a noble thought, Frank."

"Why do you say men especially," asked Mr. Laing, "when talking of the impossibility of mere formal prayer? Do you think women more likely to pray as a mere form ?"

"I am afraid so, particularly girls. I hold that anguish and bitter temptation are our best teachers in regard to prayer, and the lives of most girls of the upper classes are so guarded that they can scarcely be expected to realise what prayer is, or its dire necessity. They pray because they are taught to do so, rather than because they feel they cannot do without it. Our SAVIOUR said that, Through much tribulation we must enter into the kingdom of heaven,' I feel sure that bitter suffering is the best teacher of prayer.'

"Ay," said John,

"And bathed in baths of hissing tears,

And battered with the stroke of doom

Fit for His use." "

"Well, I agree with you to a great extent," said Mr. Laing, smiling, "but now I think I must be retiring."

"Good night, uncle. We will follow soon."

A GLANCE AT THREE UNIVERSITIES.

PART I. OXFORD.

WE generally say that Oxford University was founded by Alfred the Great; but we should perhaps be nearer the truth if we said that this grand Home of Learning is the fulfilment of the dreams of that very noble king who was most energetic in the cause of education throughout England, and who is recorded to have established schools at Oxford.

In 1129, there arose in the meadows not far from the rugged Saxon edifice of Oxford Castle, a solemn looking building of fair proportions, known as Osney Abbey, to which some schools belonged; it is from

these, as also from some other schools hard by, established shortly before the Abbey appeared, that the University which arose gradually, may be said in an indirect manner to have derived its origin. Many English youths clustered around the Oxford schools where learned men were found whose presence proved very attractive; monks who had bid farewell to their monasteries, wandering forth into the world for the love of teaching; for, as historians tell us, "what learning there was in those days, and what scientific men there were, were contained within the walls of the monasteries, or were sent forth from those learned retreats."

The travelling teachers, poor monks as they were, penniless and mostly barefoot, were welcomed with great honour by crowds of students who sat at their feet, treasuring their every word: these English boys of old, thirsting for knowledge, prized the learned wanderers far beyond the rich or powerful of the world: they would observantly note also how from time to time princes and nobles were compelled to tremble in the presence of these wise men who proved again and again that "Knowledge is power." King Stephen heard of the lectures given by one Vacarius from Lombardy: Vacarius lectured on the subject of law; his eloquence and the knowledge he had imparted, had aroused the people of Oxford, and had opened their eyes to the evils of the times to the king therefore it seemed fit to silence him, lest his subjects should grow beyond being governed. It was no easy thing, however, to drown the words Vacarius had spoken: his lectures had been written down, and were highly treasured.

There must have been much learning going on at Oxford in Stephen's time, else, as Hallam the historian remarks, Vacarius would not have travelled thence from Italy with the express intention of forming classes there for the study of the law. We hear of three thousand students there even during the reign of Richard I.; this, although probably an exaggeration, seems to indicate that the schools were known to be numerously attended.

We must not imagine the old city as anything like the Oxford of to-day; we must think of narrow lanes, unsightly, uncared for, and miserably crowded by troops of boys who lodged with the citizens; these boys had not the cheerfulness and the comfort of lecture-rooms; but for all that, they enjoyed their studies; they managed to learn, and diligently enough they worked while they were at it. Teachers and pupils, alike but half-clothed, were glad to find shelter under a