The Church (for although the praise of God arises from many altars, the interest naturally centres in the eldest born) is a long, low structure, giving an odd impression of some seaworthy craft cast adrift upon the green tideless sea of its spacious Circle. It was named, we fancy, for various Annes: the mother of the Virgin, the Lady Anne Arundel, and the Queen-to-be. St. Anne’s it has ever been, bearing the name through three baptisms of fire, in one of which, it is said, the bell, Queen Anne’s own gift, rung its own knell in a most weird and pathetic manner. Once upon a time its yard was the village burying-ground, but its early tenants have all been disturbed in their rest, and only one or two box-tombs remain, on which the sparrows, which have built themselves nests in the ivy on the walls, hop and chirp contentedly. The only relic still possessed by St. Anne’s is the Communion Plate, which bears the arms of William III. and the date, 1695. It, too, was a gift from that “great Anne whom three realms obeyed,” who seems to have had a special fondness for sending like mementoes to the infant colonies. The first clergyman, Dr. Bray, sent out to care for the souls of the Annapolitans, received ten thousand pounds of tobacco as his stipend--this, of course, after the Church of England was made the Established Church. Seats were reserved in the sacred edifice for the Governor and members of the legislative bodies; and in addition their attendance was made compulsory. The first missionary meeting of which we hear in America was held in St. Anne’s, when a pious annual five-and-twenty pounds was voted to be applied to the conversion, not of the heathen Susquehannoghs, as one might have expected, but of the Quakers of Pennsylvania! [Illustration: ST. JOHN’S COLLEGE AND THE TREATY TREE.]