=Effect of our Liturgy on a Child.=—I cannot refrain from adding De Quincey’s beautiful words describing the effect of our liturgy upon him as a child. “On Sunday mornings I went with the rest of my family to church: it was a church on the ancient model of England, having aisles, galleries, organ, all things ancient and venerable, and the proportions majestic. Here, whilst the congregation knelt through the long litany, as often as we came to that passage, so beautiful amongst many that are so, where God is supplicated on behalf of ‘all sick persons and young children,’ and that He would ‘show His pity upon all prisoners and captives,’ I wept in secret; and raising my streaming eyes to the upper windows of the galleries, saw, on days when the sun was shining, a spectacle as affecting as ever prophet can have beheld. The _sides_ of the windows were rich with stained glass; through the deep purples and crimsons streamed the golden light; emblazonries of heavenly illumination (from the sun) mingling with the earthly emblazonries (from art and its gorgeous colouring) of what is grandest in man. _There_ were the apostles that had trampled upon earth, and the glories of earth, out of celestial love to man. _There_ were the martyrs that had borne witness to the truth through flames, through torments, and through armies of fierce, insulting faces. _There_ were the saints who, under intolerable pangs, had glorified God by meek submission to His will.” “God speaks to children, also, in dreams and by the oracles that lurk in darkness. But in _solitude_, above all things, when made vocal to the meditative heart by the truths and services of a national church, God holds with children ‘communion undisturbed.’ _Solitude_, though it may be silent as light, is, like light, the mightiest of agencies; for solitude is essential to man. All men come into this world _alone_; all leave it _alone_.”