But of all amusing instances of curious announcements in church those given by the Rev. Cuthbert Bede in _All the Year Round_, November 1880, may take the palm and fittingly conclude this chapter. "An old rector of a small country parish," so runs the story, "had sent his set of false teeth to be repaired, on the understanding that they should be returned "by Saturday" as there was no Sunday post, and the village was nine miles from the post town. The old rector tried to brave out the difficulty, but after he had incoherently mumbled through the prayers, he decided not to address his congregation on that day. While the hymn was being sung, he summoned the clerk to the vestry, and then said to him: "It is quite useless for me to attempt to go on. The fact is, that my dentist has not sent me back my artificial teeth, and it is impossible for me to make myself understood. You must tell the congregation that the service is ended for this morning, and that there will be no service this afternoon." The old clerk went back to his desk; the singing of the hymn was brought to an end; and the rector, from the vestry, heard the clerk address the congregation thus: "This is to give notice! as there won't be no sarmon nor no more sarvice this mornin', so you' better all go whum (home); and there won't be no sarvice this aternoon, as the rector ain't got his artful teeth back from the dentist!" Big Bones Preserved in Churches. By the Rev. R. Wilkins Rees. In a lovely and secluded valley in Montgomeryshire is situated the interesting old church of Pennant Melangell, of whose foundation a charming legend is told. The romantic glen was in the first instance the retreat of a beautiful Irish maiden, Monacella (in Welsh, Melangell), who had fled from her father's court rather than wed a noble to whom he had promised her hand, that here she might alone "serve God and the spotless virgin." Brochwell Yscythrog, Prince of Powys, being one day hare-hunting in the locality, pursued his game till he came to a thicket, where to his amazement he found a lady of surpassing beauty, with the hare he was chasing safely sheltered beneath her robe. Notwithstanding all the efforts of the sportsman to make them seize their prey, the dogs had retired to a distance, howling as though in fear, and even when the huntsman essayed to blow his horn, it stuck to his lips. The Prince, learning the lady's story, right royally assigned to her the spot as a sanctuary for ever to all who fled there. It afterwards became a safe asylum for the oppressed, and an institution for the training of female devotees. But how long it so continued cannot be said. Monacella's hard bed used to be shown in the cleft of a neighbouring rock, while her tomb was in a little oratory adjoining the church.