[Phi]. I have always supposed, but I know not upon what authority, that the custom of planting yew-trees in churchyards originated in the idea of supplying the yeomen of the parish with bows, in the good old archery days. IGNORAMUS. * * * * * STARS ARE THE FLOWERS OF HEAVEN. (Vol. vii. _passim._) I sent a Note to "N. & Q" some time ago, expressing my conviction that the original _locale_ of this beautiful idea was in St. Chrysostom. but, as I could not then give a reference to the passage which contained it, my suggestion was of course not definite enough to call for attention. I am now able to vindicate to the "golden-mouthed" preacher of Antioch this expression of poetic fancy, the origination of which has excited, and deservedly, so much inquiry among the readers of "N. & Q." It occurs in Homily X., "On the Statues," delivered at Antioch. I transcribe the passage from the translation in _The Library of the Fathers_: "Follow me whilst I enumerate the meadows, the gardens, the flowering tribes; all sorts of herbs and their uses, their odours, forms, disposition; yea, but their very names; the trees which are fruitful and the barren; the nature of metals; that of animals, in the sea or on the land; of those that swim and those that traverse the air; the mountains, the forests, the groves; _the meadow below and the meadow above_; _for there is a meadow on the earth_, _and a meadow too in the sky_, THE VARIOUS FLOWERS OF THE STARS; the rose below, and the rainbow above!... Contemplate with me the beauty of the sky; how it has been preserved so long without being dimmed, and remains as bright and clear as if it had been only fabricated to-day; moreover the power of the earth, how its womb has not become effete by bringing forth during so long a time!" &c. Homily X., "On the Statues," pp. 178-9. W. FRASER. Tor-Mohun. P.S.--Are the following lines, which contain this idea, and were copied long ago from the poet's corner of a provincial paper, with the title of "The Language of the Stars, a fragment," worth preserving? "The stars bear tidings, voiceless though they are: 'Mid the calm loveliness of the evening air, As one by one they open clear and high, And win the wondering gaze of infancy, They speak,--yet utter not. Fair heavenly flowers Strewn on the floor-way of the angels' bowers! 'Twas HIS own hand that twined your chaplets bright, And thoughts of love are in your wreaths of light, Unread, unreadable by us;--there lie High meanings in your mystic tracery; Silent rebukings of day's garish dreams, And warnings solemn as your own fair beams." * * * * * BOOKS BURNED BY THE COMMON HANGMAN. (Vol. viii., p. 272.)