inculcate, not that he did wrong in slaying it, but that he did not set about it in the right way; for we do not read that he asked any counsel of the gods in this exploit; and so offended Ares. So we Christians, who have all to conquer some dragon of sin, which prevents us from benefiting by partaking of the pure waters of truth, must not undertake to destroy it, trusting in our own strength, or actuated by revenge for the loss of some darling possession, (represented by the slain men.) We may, perchance, conquer our enemy, but the victory will cost us dear; we may even be transformed into a serpent ourselves; that is, become covered with the mystical scales and skin of the evil spirit, pride, and self-reliance; and become lastly, the leaders of evil men, even against our will, as Cadmus was, when he was compelled to lead the irreverent barbarians into Greece.

We have all a city to build-a Thebes; that is, in the sacred tongue, an ark, a hollow vessel fit for swimming in the water, in which, like Noah, we may be saved in the times of earthly troubles, or from the troubles of our own hearts and minds. Much might be said about this city of Thebes,* with its seven gates, (representing the spiritual doors whence the gifts of the Holy Spirit, or the deadly sins, seven in number, enter into, or pass from, the sonl) but time permits us not to linger longer over this legend, so full of meaning to a Christian eye; we must hasten on, for we have still some words we wish to say.

The stone thrown by Cadmus among the warriors sprung from the dragon's teeth, signifies that apparently slight means, when used according to the Divine commandment, will destroy all our enemies. So we are told

The walls of Thebes were not erected by Cadmus, but by Amphion and Zethos. It is said when Amphion played upon the lyre which Hermes had given him, the stones not only moved of their own accord to the place they were wanted, but fitted themselves together so as to form the wall.- Smith's Dictionary,'

in Holy Scripture that David killed the giant, terror of Saul's armies, by means of a sling and a stone.

The removal of Cadmus and Harmonia, after all their troubles, to the Heathen's abode of happiness, reminds us Christians that if we will only endeavour to do right, and bear whatever punishment is sent to us for our many sins, and not trust to our own works for safety, but to the intercession of our blessed Saviour, we shall, through His mercy, be delivered from the ruin of our past lives, and taken to dwell in those Heavenly regions whence we can never be driven away.*

(To be continued.)

YARACH.

ROYAL ROSE-BUDS.

CHAPTER IV.

KATHARINE PLANTAGENET.

'A little babe of sweet and lovely face,
And spotless spirit.'-Spenser.

"Tell us she heard,

(Whom never a word

Of our articulate language stirred)

That sweeter speech

That shall one day reach

All nations and tongues in the heart of each.'

Voices of the Dumb.

BENEATH a raised tomb in Westminster Abbey, lies the body of a little English princess, whose story we must not quite pass over. She was the child of King Henry HII., and was born in the palace of Westminster, St. Katharine's day, November 25th, 1253. She is described

* One paper alone of our kind and valued correspondent remains in reserve. Even when this present one appears, Yarach has been for many months removed from this world, and the lesson of this legend comes to us from the grave.

and the

as one of the loveliest babies that ever was seen, darling of both her parents. King Henry was away in France at the time of her birth, and did not return till she was a year old. As she was many years younger than the rest of his children, it is not surprising that he should have especially delighted in her. At six weeks old she had been styled the queen's beautiful daughter,' and her christening feast had been celebrated with great ado, 'fourteen wild boars, twenty-four swans, two hundred and fifty partridges, sixteen hundred and fifty fowls, sixty-one thousand eggs, &c. having been required for the occasion. Two years later, Henry made special offerings in Westminster Cathedral in behalf of 'Katharine, the king's daughter.'

By this time the sad truth that their darling was deaf and dumb must have dawned on her parents' minds, and quickened their supplications for her at the throne of grace; perhaps, too, her health had become delicate, for at three years old, it was found needful to give her change of air, and she was sent to Swallowfield, in Berkshire, to be under the care of Emma, Lady of Swallowfield. While here, a little kid was brought from the royal forests to be her play-fellow. The king continually sent messengers to inquire after her health, and once, when a better report was brought, bestowed, in the joy of his heart, 'a good robe' on the welcome messenger. Katharine was afterwards moved to the castle of Windsor, and there she died, in May, 1257, aged three years and a half.

This pretty little one, though language had she none, nor speech,' had entwined herself closely round the hearts of both father and mother; for Queen Eleanor could not be comforted for her loss, and Henry, whom a rebellion in Wales had much harassed, actually took to his bed with low fever.

A

gorgeous funeral, and costly gifts to Katharine's nurses, were the last proofs Henry could give of love to

his little dumb child, and these you may be sure he did not withhold. He also caused a silver statue of her, as large as life, to be placed over her tomb in Westminster Abbey.

(To be continued.)

THE YOUNG STEP-MOTHER.

CHAPTER X.

ALBINIA found the need of still more patience to keep alive hope and energy, before the summer had fully set in, for a sore disappointment awaited her. Whatever had been her annoyances with the girls, she had always been on the most happy and comfortable terms with Gilbert: he had responded to her advances, accommodated himself to her wishes, adopted her tastes, and met affection with affection. She had early perceived that his father and sisters looked on him as the naughty one of the family, but when she saw Lucy's fretting interference, and Sophia's disposition to contradict him, she did not wonder that an unjust degree of blame had often fallen to his share; and incontestably, under her management, he scarcely ever gave cause for complaint; so that the contrast made her at peace in thinking of him. He, at least, was evidently happier and better for her presence. This was compensation for many a vexation, and she loved him with all her heart, made fun with him, and grudged no trouble for his pleasure.

As long as The Three Musqueteers' lasted, he had come very constantly to her dressing-room, and afterwards she promised to find some other pleasant reading; but after such an exciting book, it was not easy to find any thing that did not appear dry. As the daughter of a Peninsular soldier, she thought nothing so charming as the Subaltern, and Gilbert seemed to enjoy it too; but by the time he had heard all her oral traditions, his attendance

began to slacken; he stayed out later, and always brought excuses when questioned-Mr. Salston had kept him late, he had been with a fellow, or his pony had lost a shoe. Albinia did not care to question; the evenings were light and warm, and the one thing she desired for him was manly exercise; she thought it much better for him to be at play with his fellow-pupils than reading with her, and she could not regret the gain of another hour in her hurried day.

One morning, however, whilst she was in the midst of lessons with the girls, Mr. Kendal surprised her by opening the dining-room door. 'Albinia,' he said, 'can you spare a few minutes?' and his look was so grave and perturbed, that she hardly waited till the door was shut behind them to ask in terror, what could be the matter.

'Nothing to alarm you,' he said. 'It is only that I am vexed about Gilbert. I have reason to fear that he is deceiving us again; and I want you to help us to recollect on which days he should have been at Tremblam. My dear, do not look so pale!'

For Albinia had turned quite white with dismay at bearing that the boy, on whom she had fixed her warm affection, had been carrying on a course of falsehood; but she saw a hope which enabled her to recover herself. 'I did keep him at home on Tuesday,' she said; it was so very hot, and he had a headache. I thought I might. You told me not to send him on doubtful days.'

'I hope you may be able to make out that it is right,' said Mr. Kendal; but I am afraid that Mr. Salston has too much cause of complaint. It is the old story!'

And so indeed it proved, when Albinia, entering the drawing-room, found the tutor there, and his complaints against Gilbert were detailed. The boy was seldom in time, often altogether missing, and excusing himself by saying he was kept at home by fears of the weather; but Mr. Salston was certain that his father could not know how he