Thelluston, as he threw his Scotch plaid around her, and the lovers went out together.

"Will you come, Ursula ?" said Everard, in that dangerously caressing voice of his, so low and sweet. Let me get your furs, for I must not let you catch cold, even for such a happiness to myself as this will be."

In a few moments, they were standing together under the beautiful moonlight, her small hand resting on his arm, in happy solemn silence. The shadow of the old church tower was not far off, and in a few moments they wandered towards it.

"Do you mind taking me into the churchyard, Everard ?" said Ursula presently.

"I will take you anywhere you wish," he said, pressing the little hand closer to his side.

Presently as they moved on he knew where she wished to go; he remembered that this was the anniversary of her mother's death, and a great tenderness came over him.

A simple massive white marble cross marked the spot where her mother lay in that quiet village churchyard. Clear and bright it stood, and in the moonlight the dewdrops and hoarfrost sparkled like millions of diamonds on the winter evergreens and flowers with which a child's love had decked it for the morrow's festival.

"It is five years to-day since she was taken away," Ursula said, in a soft sad voice. "What love could ever be like hers! Oh, Everard, do you remember her ?"

Perfectly well, Ursula; but you must not grieve now for her, how many you have left to love you still, to care for you almost as tenderly as she did."

'Oh, yes! they are all so kind; but it is different, I can see even in you a little difference, Everard; you seem to fancy I am changed by the change in my circumstances. You are not so open and free quite with me as you used to be when I was a child."

He was silent as they turned from the grave, and the girl in her simplicity little knew the storm of thoughts her words had raised within him.

After a moment he said, in a voice he vainly endeavoured to make steady, "The difference in me, if any, does not arise from coldness, dear Ursula, and any change in you, is one which has brought you from childhood's beauty and goodness to be what you are, the loveliest

and dearest of created beings," he continued more hurriedly, "I dare not tell you, I must not, in my position, a man dependent for my livelihood on my own exertions, all I feel now for one to whom my boyish love was given. Ursula, my love, my darling, why will you draw these thoughts from me, when my only duty is silence ?"

"Everard," she whispered, "if I thought I could regain the place I once held in your affection I should be happy."

But before she had finished speaking his arms were round her, and her blushing face was hidden on his shoulder.

And there under the Christmas moonlight their faith was plighted, their kiss of love was given and received, and the early joy bells rang out to welcome the great Festival of peace and love, and re-echoed to bless two loving hearts in their betrothal.

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"What on earth are you two mooning about so long for," shouted Ernest Thelluston, "I've taken Ethel in ever so long, and you, Miss Stanhope, will be sure to catch cold, the doctor says."

She escaped from his gaze, and ran up to her room to breathe out to her Heavenly FATHER her full heart, and thank Him for the joy that had come to her, joy too deep and true to be participated in by any human being, in its fulness, only by Him Whose name is Love.

THE CREED OF S. ATHANASIUS.

'Twas morning fair and sweet, and Christmas-time;
Through the crisp air rang out the joyous chime,
And thousands at its call with eager feet
Hurried with praise their new-born LORD to greet.

In one fair, holy church, where holly hung,
And gleaming ivy to the pillars clung,
A little child, almost a stranger there,
Knelt by his parents' side in simple prayer.

Taught at a mother's knee, his earnest mind
Joyed in the love of GOD towards mankind;
And as the pealing chants around him rung,
It was true praise his lisping accents sung.

Close by his father's side he knelt to pray,
And with him read the Psalms for Christmas Day,
While all the while the thoughtful little one
Mused on the love of CHRIST, the Virgin's Son.

And now, obedient to his father's sign,
Eastward he turns, and full of faith divine,
Says, “I believe,” then stops, abashed to hear
The strange, new words that meet his startled ear.

What is it that they say? his troubled eye
Turns to his father's face inquiringly;

Then where he signs him at the page to look,
Follows his finger on the open book.

"Tis a new creed to him-can it be true?
He pauses ere he joins to say it too,
While all against the priest, the congregation
Seemed joined in contradicting declaration.

One is there who has never taught him wrong,
To him he turns from all the murmuring throng,
His lips are moving! all-convincing sight,—
"My father says it, so it must be right!"

And all the time with gentle, serious face,
Following the finger pointing to the place,

He says the strange new words with fearless tongue,
Because he knows his father can't be wrong.

Does it seem foolishness, this simple faith?
Nay! 'tis the wafting of an angel's breath!

Better for us if humbly we would say,

"The fathers must be right, we are not wise as they."

E. M. LEIGH.

THE CONVERSION OF THE RUSSIANS.

It has become so common a practice in European society to speak of Christians as if they fell naturally into the two divisions only,-of Roman Catholic, and Protestant,—that it may almost be considered as the general custom to call every one a Protestant who is not a member of the Roman Church, every one a Roman Catholic who is not a Protestant. Yet it is not the less a fact, that the most extensive empire

that the world has yet seen is Christian, yet neither Roman Catholic nor Protestant, but Greek, the national Church of Russia being a branch of the Greek Church of Constantinople. As a mere fact, this is of course familiar to all educated people. That it is a fact of no small political importance, is equally apparent to all who have given any attention to the political relations of Eastern Europe, and who cannot fail to see how great is the influence on Oriental matters of the claim which the Czars of Russia have for some time maintained to be the natural protectors of their co-religionists, the Greeks of the Turkish empire. The circumstances, therefore, which placed the Russian sovereigns in this position form no unimportant chapter of Church history, and the interest which attaches to it is not lessened by the fact that the accession of Russia to the Greek Church was due, in part at least, to the influence of two princesses, the one a Russian, the other a Greek. A short historical sketch of the conversion of the Russians to Christianity, may, it is hoped, not be uninteresting to the readers of the "Churchman's Companion."

The first appearance of Christianity in Russia is said to have been almost contemporary with the establishment of the Varangian sovereignty, from which the modern Russian empire has grown up. The Byzantine historians relate, that in the year 851, Askhold, the Russian chief ruling in the town of Kieff, made his appearance in the Black Sea, with a piratical fleet of two hundred vessels, ravaging the coasts wherever he came. Michael III., the then sovereign of the Greek empire, was just entering on an expedition against the Saracens, and had actually left the capital with his army, when he was overtaken by a messenger from the governor of Constantinople, announcing that the Russian fleet had passed the Bosphorus, and was threatening the city itself. The emperor immediately returned with his army, but found the city so closely invested by the hostile fleet that it was with the greatest difficulty he could effect an entrance. Michael seems to have considered the situation of his capital as almost desperate, for no attempt was made to resist the invader, and it was only the sudden rise of a severe storm, which wrecked and dispersed the Russian fleet, that compelled Askhold to raise the siege, and retreat with a shattered remnant of his forces to his own dominions. The Byzantine historians ascribe this fortunate deliverance to the piety of the Emperor, and of the patriarch Photius, who brought from the Blakernal Church a robe which they believed to have been worn by the Blessed Virgin, and

dipped it in the sea, with prayers to heaven for deliverance from their heathen invaders, on which the storm and discomfiture of the Russians immediately followed. They add, that so deeply impressed was the Russian leader with the miraculous nature of the event, that before his retreat he begged the Emperor to send him teachers of the Christian faith, that he might learn to worship the GOD whose power he had seen so wonderfully displayed. If Askhold ever really made such a request, it is singular that Nestor the oldest of the Russian historians, himself a monk, and naturally anxious to carry back the foundation of the Russian Church to as ancient a date as possible, should have passed over the fact in absolute silence. But, whether true or not, no effect seems to have been produced upon the Russians, who remained to all intents a pagan people for some time afterwards.

About a century had elapsed before the next step was taken towards the Christianising of Russia, and this time it was not a defeated prince, but a victorious princess, from whom the impulse came. The Grand Duke Igor had died in the year 945, leaving his widow Olga, and a son Swatoslaf, still under age. The widow immediately assumed the government of the Russian states. The Russian chronicles are at variance with each other as to the origin and antecedents of this lady, some calling her a scion of a noble Slavonic family at Isborsk, whilst others say that she was the daughter of a boatman of Kieff, with whom the Grand Duke Igor had fallen in love, as he was accidentally crossing the Dnieper. But, whatever was her origin, Olga seems to have been possessed not only of great energy of character but of considerable talent for governing, as the events of her reign abundantly show. Her husband, the Grand Duke Igor, had fallen in a war with a wild Slavonic people, called in the Russian chronicles Drevlians, but whose geographical situation seems not to be distinctly ascertained. This people was then governed by a prince named Mal, who, fearing the vengeance of Olga for the loss of her husband, attempted to appease her by proposing to marry her himself. This proposal was indignantly rejected, and war was immediately declared against the Drevlians. It was carried on with the most savage ferocity. By a succession of stratagems, accompanied by bold attacks, Olga succeeded in utterly crushing, indeed almost exterminating, the Drevlians. Their whole country was ravaged, all their villages destroyed, and their capital taken, after a siege of a year's duration, and committed to the flames,