I suggested pleasantly, but the Imp showed no appreciation of my humour. Miss Warren ate one sandwich, and I, at her command, ate the other. I emptied the soda-water into the claret-cup and made a horrible drink, most of which fell to the Imp and myself. We handed over to the Imp the ladies' fingers and the jelly-cake. Miss Warren then retired in good spirits to her cabin and I again went on deck. One rosy finger of the dawn was pointing out his course to the uprising sun. I would get up the sails-if I could only keep myself awake.

I must have slept three hours. When I awoke the sun was high in the heavens; the wind had almost died away. By eight o'clock there was not a breath of air stirring. In three words, we were becalmed.

Becalmed in the middle of Lake Ontario on a day in midsummer. No cloud to intercept one burning ray of the sun; no breath of air to cool the cheek; no motion but the sickening rise and fall of the vessel on the oily rollers of the dead-swell; and not a morsel to eat. I longed for another

storm.

Alice came on deck and eyed the prospect with a look of blank astonishment. The only land in sight was on the south, and that was visible only to the keenest eyes. I had hoisted the sails, but they flapped idly in the still air, the booms plunging with the motion of the ship and making an intolerable din. The only sign that showed that we were not alone on the deep was a sail miles and miles away, obviously motionless like ourselves. The girl's lip quivered as she realized the situation.

"I suppose they will send a steam-tug or something after us?" she said at length quite calmly.

"Oh, yes," I answered cheerfully, "they

have a steam-yacht at Newark which, I dare say, is already on its way."

"If they do not find us when will the breeze spring up?"

answer.

I hesitated for a moment to contrive an The Imp took advantage of the silence. "It'll be a dead calm all day," he said savagely.

As the day went on and the sun beat down, we got up the awning and tried to relieve our tedium by reading. The library of the Flying Scud was scantily furnished; a few books on navigation and some yachtingmagazines were its regular stock. But we found two precious volumes which had been left on board by two members of the crew of somewhat different tastes. One was Palgrave's "Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics;" the other, a volume of Milman's "History of the Jews." These books probably saved us from throwing ourselves overboard to end our wretched existence.

At midday the Imp gave an instance of his ineradicable deceitfulness, which I felt sure must show itself sooner or later. I happened to ask Alice if she could hold out till toward evening, when we were sure to have a breeze, if the steamer did not come to our rescue sooner. She answered cheerfully that she could without difficulty, but she was terribly hungry. Thereupon the Imp retired quietly, and reappearing with two ladies' fingers and the broken fragment of jelly-cake, laid them by her side and disappeared again.

"You naughty boy!" cried Miss Warren, "to try and starve yourself on our hands. Do you suppose I'm going to be so greedy as to eat your cakes. Come here sir, at once, or I'll never look at you again."

The Imp returned, looking rather shamefaced. He mumbled something about "hating them sweet things." I knew this was a deliberate lie, as nothing that is food for man was an object of distaste to the Imp, so we forced him to consume the ladies' fingers on the spot.

The weary day wore on and no help came. I searched the horizon till my eyes ached for some signs of coming relief. Everything was against us for, as I afterwards learnt, the engine of the steam-yacht was broken, and it was six o'clock that day before the most earnest labour could put it in repair. We had seen a steamer, which I supposed to be the one which crossed the

lake from Old Newark, pass in the far distance, a little cloud of smoke. The captain's time was too valuable to permit him to scour the lake in search of wandering yachts. Night would return upon us perhaps, before the breeze sprang up. If so, what assurance was there that we should not be compelled to spend another night, with all its dangers, upon the lake? I was sick and faint for want of food. What assurance was there that we should reach the shore before starvation had deprived us of life or reason? I thought of that disabled yacht on which four young men had floated helplessly about the lake till three of them died, one after the other, in delirium. The fourth was picked up senseless, and with difficulty rescued from the fate of his comrades. With such gloomy thoughts did my mind, in my weak and dejected state, occupy itself, though I tried, for the sake of Alice Warren, to seem cheerful and confident. She, brave girl, never uttered a murmur. felt inexpressibly tender towards her, and towards the Imp too. Community of disCommunity of distress is a great humanizer.

I

About five o'clock, as I lay listlessly on the deck, having almost given up hope of getting ashore before dark, I felt a faint breath of air upon my face. I started up; a gentle cats-paw was ruffling the water. Was it the beginning of a breeze, or only one of those deceptive currents of air which I had experienced before during the day, and which,. apparently coming from nowhere, ended in nothing? My question was answered by a puff from the north, which for the moment filled the idle sails. Then I could see that, though the water around me was again as smooth as glass, off to the north and west it was dark with ripples. Another puff and I saw behind us a line on the water which indicated that we were moving. I rushed

to the tiller and put the ship on what I thought would be the course for Old Newark. In a few minutes the yacht was gliding through the water, which rippled against her bows, making music sweeter than the music of the spheres. Alice and the Imp were soon sitting beside me with new life in their pale faces. How strong and fresh and cool the breeze was ! Would it keep up? No fear of that; the yacht was down to the gunwale. It might blow a hurricane and welcome; I would not take in a stitch till we rounded to in front of the hotel.

In an hour we saw buildings which with the glass we made out to be Old Newark. Before two more hours had passed, we were sailing under the bastions of the fort, when, sharp and clear, rang out the report of the evening gun. No wedding bells ever sounded more pleasantly in the ears of a bridegroom than that sound in mine.

We met the steam yacht, made effective when too late to be useful, coming to our rescue. Once more the Flying Scud lay at anchor opposite the hotel; once more Jacob, looking like a felon, was waiting to row us ashore. The Imp stepped last into the boat. Poor child! no sooner had he taken his seat than his head drooped and he slipped fainting to the bottom of the boat.

Alice Warren bent over and kissed him. For the first and only time in my life I wished myself a sick Imp.

"You will never care to go sailing with me again, Miss Warren," I said mournfully. "I don't blame you for either the storm or the calm," she replied.

"No, but I am to blame for your being exposed to the miseries of both," I burst out passionately.

Alice looked up. She said nothing, but I read in her eyes something that was more than forgiveness.

G. A. MACKENZIE.

WE E propose in this paper to show the

close connection which exists between the two apparently incongruous subjects which form the heading of our article, how they became connected, and why they have not long since fallen into desuetude.

It is still known that the Mythologies of pagan Greece and Rome embraced an almost infinite multitude of deities, of many different ranks and powers, and as many different vocations. There was no action or thought of life, public or private, but what was placed by the fertile imaginations of the Theogonists of those days, under the tutelar patronage of some one or more of their gods; no tangible object could be presented to their sight, but what must have been associated in their minds with some mysterious being, who had it in his peculiar charge. Each of these deities, of course, had his own peculiar method of being propitiated--by the sacrifice of blood, of the fruits of the earth; by fasts or feasts; by secret orgies; or by national Saturnalia.

The more aristocratic among these heathen divinities had particular days allotted to them for the performance of the peculiar rites pertaining to their worship; hence it was at one time complained that every day in the year was monopolized by the gods, and there was no time left for mankind. The consequence of this condition of affairs was, that Christianity found the people of Greece and Rome, as well as of barbarous countries, accustomed, both by tradition and habit, to an endless round of festivals and celebrations, which the earlier and purer form of our faith utterly repudiated as idolatrous and impious, and the usual excesses of which were altogether repugnant to the spirit of the Gospel, as taught by the Apostles and early Fathers of the Church. In course of time, even as early as St. Paul's days, as we may gather from his writings, a certain degree of laxity began to prevail. This was increased by a false zeal for proselytizing, which arose very early in the Church, the two errors mutually promoting the growth of

each other. The pagan Roman, accustomed to a religion of the senses, could not understand the spiritual doctrines of Christianity; he could see nothing in the timid and austere Christian, in constant terror for his life and liberty, that could be an inducement to him to adopt a creed apparently so gloomy and unprofitable. He very naturally reasoned that there was no inducement for him to peril "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," for a religion that was altogether dim and misty to him, and did not even afford him the tangible benefit of amusement; and he therefore stood aloof from it, if he did not persecute its votaries.

In the course of time, when the severity of persecution had ceased, the Christians. began to celebrate their worship openly, and forms and ceremonies, unknown in the days of its founders, crept in. In their eagerness to make converts, the leaders of the Church gradually introduced more of pomp and splendour into its observances. In order to allure by outward show, they were induced to imitate the pagan system of holidays or festivals, merely changing the name of the heathen divinity, in whose honour the day had been formerly bept, into that of some saint or martyr, but still perpetuating in the popular mind, in a greater or less degree, the peculiar superstition with which the original festival was connected. It must be borne in mind that the great body of the people were at this time uneducated; that these festivals had "grown with their growth and strengthened with their strength "-had become, as it were, a part of their lives. Who could blame the ignorant people for keeping up the old association of ideas, handed down to them through countless generations, although they had nominally become Christians? We all know with what tenacity our mental selves cling to what has been instilled into us in childhood, even after our more mature faculties have shown us the absurdity of our youthful beliefs. In this way heathen superstitions became engrafted upon Chris

tian observances, and have come down to us at the present day no more changed from the original than can be easily accounted for by the mere difference of outward cir

cumstances.

Before the Christian era had very far advanced, a new and powerful auxiliary to those already mentioned was found in the system of canonization, gradually adopted into the Church. This is so evidently an imitation of the Pagan Apotheosis of heroes and famous characters into the ranks of the mythological godhead, that it is scarcely. necessary to point out the identity. We have said that the system was gradually admitted; it was so at first, but this slow process did not long satisfy the now more ambitious ecclesiastical mind. Indeed, so rapidly was the hagiology of the Church filled up, that in the reign of Phocas, A.D. 604-10, there were more saints than there were days in the year, and at the solicitation of Pope Boniface, that Emperor appointed a daily service in what had formerly been the Pantheon, or temple of all the gods, to "all the Saints of Christianity." This service was afterwards, by Gregory IV., limited to the first day of November, as we find it now, both in the Anglican and Romish Churches. Since that time they have increased and multiplied amazingly, till they have become like the stars of heaven for multitude, some of them with not much better earthly reputations than their ancient prototypes, the heathen deities.

The admission of every new saint gave opportunity for the transplanting of another pagan holiday into the Christian calendar, and as it was generally accompanied by a new batch of nominal converts, we need not wonder at the rapid development of canonization. In Britain, the early clergy tried hard to put down the riot and licentious practices of the original Festa, but they were too deeply rooted in the hearts of the people to be eradicated by sermons and synods, and the most that could be done was, as in Rome itself, to endeavour to give something of a Christian colour and character to things that were still essentially pagan. As we proceed, we shall have occasion to note how successive Popes have followed out this notable plan. Nor is this course without at least a plausible excuse; if they could not entirely eradicate the excesses of the heathen Saturnalia, it may be said that it was a step

in the right direction to bring them under the control, even partial though it might be, of a purer and better system. Where the error lay was in the false and flimsy, and often absurd, pretexts in which they were veiled, and which, even at that time, must often have excited the smile of contempt or the sneer of unbelief on the lip of men of common sense. These pretexts were ultimately to become, in a great measure, the means of breaking up the system in the most enlightened countries of the world.

We may now proceed to notice a few of the many instances of this strange transformation of idolatry and paganism into the observances of professedly Christian Churches. To begin at the beginning of the yearthe first day of the year, at whatever season it has been made to commence, has, from the earliest dawn of history, been celebrated by some kind of religious observances. From Ovid we learn that it was a day on which to observe omens; "the first sound you hear, the first bird you see, that becomes an omen." From him we also learn that our custom of wishing our friends "a happy New Year," is no parvenu salutation, for he asks, Fasti, Lib. I. v. 175,

At cur læta tuis dicuntur verba Calendis
Et damus alternas accipimusque preces ?

Libanius also tells us that the fourth kind of festivals, common to all people living under the Roman Empire, takes place when the old year has ended and the new one begun. They kept up the night, or eve, with riot, and in the morning, after the usual sacrifice to the gods, they went round visiting the dignitaries, and gave New-year's gifts to their servants. This does not differ very much from the present custom in most Christian countries, except in the gifts to servants, and that the Romans kept the first five days as a festival, instead of the first only, as we do. Thus the New-year festival of the Romans was unquestionably the origin of the same celebration among the early Christians, although from kindred ceremonies among the Hindoos, and the undeniable connection between Druidism and the worship of Mithra, it is possible that the custom may have been introduced into Britain by the Druids, long before the advent of Christianity in the island. The early ecclesiastics endeavoured to curb the dissipation incident to the celebration, and

even went the length of ordaining a fast. The Strena, or New-year's gifts, were forbidden by the council of Auxerre in A. D. 614, which stigmatized them as diabolical; but the decree appears to have been in vain, as the custom has come down to us with a great deal of its folly unabated.

Candlemas, or the purification of the Virgin Mary, is, in all probability, but a continuation under another form of the Februata Juno of the Roman calendar, and adopted into the family of Christian festivals for the reasons before given, the very name of the month in which both the ancient and the modern celebrations took place being derived from the Latin februa, an expiatory or purifying sacrifice offered to the Manes. Again, hear how Pope Innocent accounts for its being called Candlemas, in a sermon upon this festival, quoted in Pagano Papismus-" Because the Gentiles dedicated this month of February to the infernal gods, and as, at the beginning of it, Pluto stole Proserpine, and her mother, Ceres, sought her in the night with lighted candles, so they, in the beginning of this month, walked about the city with lighted candles; because the Holy Fathers could not utterly extirpate this custom, they ordained that Christians should carry about candles in honour of the blessed Virgin Mary, and thus what was done before to the honour of Ceres, is now done to the honour of the Virgin." Truly an excellent reason for the infallible ruler of a Christian Church to give for the perpetuation of a heathen rite!

Saint Valentine's day seems beyond dispute to be but a modification of the Roman Lupercalia, celebrated about the middle of February, in honour of Pan and Juno. The names of young women were, with various ceremonies, put into a box, from which they were drawn by the men as chance directed, as in a lottery. This, like other old customs, had become so rooted among the people that the pastors of the early Church could only follow their usual plan of adopting it, that they might, in some measure, obtain control over it; and from being "an unsightly nuisance, they endeavoured, as a skilful architect would do, to convert it into an ornament." In fact Pan and Juno vacated their seats in favour of the Christian bishop, Saint Valentine, but the good man could not avoid having much of the heathen ritual fastened upon him.

The day before Shrove Tuesday was, at one time, observed as a festival in England, under the euphonious title of "Collop Monday." According to Polydore Virgil, this observance originated in the Roman feasts of Bacchus. Some colour is given to this up to the present time, by the custom of the Eton boys of writing verses on this day in praise of the Lybian deity. Saint David's day opens the month of March. The custom of Welshmen wearing the leek on this day has been variously accounted for; perhaps the following hint may have as much authority as any other. The Egyptians, as Pliny tells us, "in swearing, hold the leek and onion amongst the gods." However we may account for it, there is scarcely a rite or ceremony amongst any people, without a precedent in one of an earlier date. Now, as to how the Egyptian esculent and the ideas connected with it could find its way to Wales, on the west coast of Britain, it is well known that the Phoenicians traded to Cornwall for tin, and probably to the neighbouring coast of Wales, about Swansea, for copper, in which case there is nothing improbable in the supposition that they introduced both the leek and the superstitions connected with it, and that the custom, like many others, has survived, although its origin has been forgotten.

Mid-Lent Sunday, or Mothering Sunday, immediately preceding Palm Sunday, probably came from the Roman Hilaria, a festival held at the time of the vernal equinox in honour of the Mother of the gods, and evidently borrowed from the Egyptians. The Mother of the gods, the Earth, rejoiced in the return of Sol, the Sun, just as Isis was supposed to mourn or rejoice for Osiris, according to the change of season. eloquent writer says:-"There is surely deep meaning and much beauty in these religious fables of the old heathens, however they may have been disfigured by popular superstitions. In all of them there breathes a profound spirit of veneration for the One, the Omnipotent, through the medium of His works."

An

The next observance that particularly calls for our attention is the first of April, popularly called "All Fools' Day." The custom of making fools on this day is very old, both Maurice and Colonel Pearce showing that it prevailed in India as a part of the Huli festival. The latter says:-" During