While walking through the lanes, with the Bishop and this laborious pastor, a little boy ran up to us with oak-leaves, and a branch containing oak-apples. It was the 29th of May; and the Bishop playfully asked the lad why he carried them. “To remember King Charles,” said the little fellow—as he further enforced the sale of these memorials of the Restoration. During the residue of the day, I shared the labours of the pastor, as he went about the parish, visiting here a sick person, and there a poor one; and, towards evening, returning to the grounds of the training school, I joined in a game of cricket, which the young men were playing in high glee. Chasing the ball as it bounded over the field, or hid itself in the hedge; scratching my hands with nettles, and joining in the shouts of frolic, with these happy youths; and finally sitting at my leisure to watch the beautiful evening sky, against which stood out the graceful spire and foliage of Harrow-on-the-Hill, while the neighbouring bells of Stanmore pealed a sunset song, I could not but murmur to myself, with Gray— “I feel the gales that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As, waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.” In rambling about, we had a good view of the former residence of Queen Adelaide, in which she had lately died. She was much beloved and respected for her unaffected piety, and her manifold good works. In the twilight we went to church again. The service was sung to a very pleasing chant, in which all joined with heart, and then the pastor entered the pulpit, and preached, extemporaneously, on the text, “_It is expedient for you that I go away._” The sermon was an allegory, of exceeding beauty, perfectly sustained throughout, and that, to all appearance, without effort. I shall never forget it, nor the powerful impression it produced at the time. I have, since, quoted it entire, in my own pulpit, (with full credit to the source from which it was derived,) and was happy to observe the effect it was capable of producing, even at second hand. I left the scene of this pleasing day’s experiences, with a sweet elevation of feeling, inspired by the solemnities in which I had engaged, and by the sermons which I had been so fortunate as to hear. Oh! lovely Church of England, how little they know thee who revile thee! how unworthy of their baptism are they who have cast themselves from thy motherly bosom!