In the Gospel from the 1st chapter of St. John, I had thought that "that which was made" might be an error for "[of] that which, &c." But as the Vulgate has "nihil quod factum est," I am more inclined to think that the translator was one not over acquainted with English, a conclusion which seems confirmed by other sentences here and there. B. N.

Sherborne Abbey Church.

JOLLOWING the example set them at other places, the

people of Sherborne are about to take in hand the restoration of the tower of their venerable abbey, now used as the parish church. Although a prominent object on the South-Western Railway from London to Exeter, Sherborne Abbey Church is not so well known for the beauty of its interior as it deserves to be; but it is famous in the West of England for its stone roof, with its fan vaulting and groining, in respect of which Sherborne is probably unsurpassed in this country, rich as it is in Gothic churches. The church in its present form was built by the Benedictine Abbots in the 15th century, who adapted the old Norman building to their own plans. The upper stage of the tower-the Perpendicular work—is light in construction and not so strong as would appear from the buttresses, three on each side, which slope upwards from the Norman structure and give it a massive effect which it does not really possess. About thirty years ago, the nave, with the choir and transepts, were restored at great cost, principally through the munificence of the late Mr. G. D. Wingfield Digby, of Sherborne Castle, who had succeeded to the estates on the death of his uncle, Lord Digby. At the same time, the massive piers on which the tower rests were almost entirely rebuilt from the foundations. Cracks and settlements have been known to exist in the tower as long as any one can remember; but it was not considered to be insecure until lately, when the fall of some window tracery on the east side prompted the vicar and churchwardens to have the structure examined. No important work has been done on the tower itself since 1830, when the course advised by the late Professor Wilkins was adopted, and this has doubtless held the structure together and preserved it until now. Messrs. Carpenter and Ingelow, whose predecessors in the firm had charge of the great restoration before alluded to, have made two reports

on the present state of the tower, and from them it would appear that the Sherborne people have not stirred any too soon in the matter. The architects point out that the east side is, and always has been, the weak part of the tower, and that this weakness is caused by the removal by the Abbots of the Norman horeshorse arch and the substitution of a panelled arch, so that the beautiful groining of the choir could be continued in an unbroken line across the tower vault. In doing this the 15th century builders, while they sacrificed strength and solidity in their eagerness for artistic beauty, never intended that the tower should have to carry, as it now does, a heavy peal of bells, said to be the heaviest swinging peal of eight in England. The great tenor bell, which weighs nearly three tons and requires four men to ring it, was not given to the Abbey until fifty years after the completion of the tower. This bell is one of the famous Tournay peal, which Wolsey distributed in various parts of the country and which are known respectively as "Great Tom" of Oxford, Lincoln, Exeter, and other places. The heavy strain and oscillation of the bells in a tower never designed to carry them is without doubt the cause of its present insecure condition; but the architects are confident they can remedy all the defects, and make Sherborne Abbey tower strong enough to bear the exceptional weight.

It is proposed, after firmly bracing together the other walls, to take down the east wall and rebuild it in a new arch of lightness and great strength, so as to relieve the existing panelled arch from the enormous pressure now upon it. The new arch will rest on the solid north and south piers, and be so constructed as to tie the walls firmly together. On the upper part of the east side the exterior stonework has nearly all perished, but only partially so on the other three sides. The defective Ham stone facing of the lower part under the slope can be replaced almost stone for stone. On the other sides of the tower the architects propose to cut out the defective stones in the slopes, windows, and facing, and to rebuild the buttresses and angles in Ham stone, re-using the sound old weatherings. The parapet is to be rebuilt in Ham stone, replacing the sound old stones and reproducing the ancient design of the pinnacle tops, the same in character as on the choir.

The result of this, it is said, will be a gain to the dignified appearance of the church, which has now such a venerable aspect that no one wishes to see it disturbed more than is absolutely necessary. The skill of the restorer and builder will be tried to the utmost so as to avoid any undesired newness of effect. Messrs. Carpenter and

Inglelow estimate the cost of the restoration at £1,300. A public meeting has been held in the town, at which it was unanimously resolved to carry out the work. The project has been warmly taken up by the new owner of Sherborne Castle (Mr. J. D. Wingfield Digby), who heads the subscription list with £300, and the principal inhabitants have come forward with liberal sums. It will, however, be necessary to appeal for help to the county and neighbourhood, and it is hoped that there will be no difficulty in obtaining the funds for a work of such absorbing interest as the complete restoration of a grand old church like Sherborne Abbey.-Times.

Thomas Gray and his Poetry.

BY SIR EGERTON BRYDGES.

'S the quantity of Gray's compositions is so small, it may seem that he cannot afford matter for much criticism, but this, I think, is not the case. Whatever he has written, is all essence. It has not the copiousness and richness of fable, nor does it enter much into the regions of imagination, but is almost entirely moral and descriptive.

This may be attributed to the age in which the author lived, an age of tameness and elegant propriety. Timidity was among Gray's defects; and he did not like to run the hazard of going beyond the fashion or spirit of the day.

Gray's topics are all important, and go to the human heart in its soberest and best moments. They are delivered with a concise and mellow vigour, and never load the memory; they are never extravagant or fantastic, but have always a philosophic and religious truth. They have the calm and contemplative melancholy of patient wisdom.

It is true that in the highest rank of poetry there is something too warm and enthusiastic for chastised and experimental philosophy : therefore I may be forgiven for saying that Gray never reached that highest rank; but I do not believe that he is the less popular on that account. The great mass of mankind are unfitted by their occupations, their selfish interests, and perhaps by their inborn nature, for enjoyments of pure idealism.

It may be said that the poet's two great Odes rise into the realms of fiction; but if it be fiction, it is historic or illustrative fiction.

They are much too laboured, too mechanical, and artist-like. In the "Progress of Poesy" there is no natural association of ideas; they are patched together so abruptly, that we cannot easily follow them; we are obliged to exercise our recollection, and to consult notes. Everywhere splendid passages occur, but they do not form parts of

one stream.

Gray's habits of composition were not suited to that sort of poetry which at once blazes upon the imagination. He wrote slowly, and pruned and corrected and polished. In the fatigue of toilsome workmanship the freshness and energy of the ideas evaporate.

No one knows historically what were Shakespeare's habits of composition; but I cannot doubt that he struck off his thoughts, sentiments, and descriptions at once, and never, when once committed to paper or conceived, attempted to alter them; and hence it is that they strike the reader's intellect, or bosom, or fancy, instantaneously. The best words are those which rise up at once in harmony with the idea. Words which are forced into their places are comprehended with pain.

Gray was a man of a powerful native genius, but one whom a technical education had somewhat damped and lowered. His condition weighed down his inborn fire; he chose sometimes rather to rely upon his memory than on the stores which the rich, original fountain of his intellect would have supplied; and he placed before him models, when he should have drawn from invention. He would have been more happy if he had trusted more to himself; his spirits would have been higher, and he would have found more enjoyment in literary occupation. To do only what others have done, gratifies us but feebly.

To know all that has been already taught is not satisfactory, because if we cannot form opinions of our own, how shall we know what master is most to be relied on? In this case our ideas can never be fixed, except by a servile reliance on authority chosen by accident.

The fashion of the age has taken up a contempt for poetry. It is a bad symptom of the moral mind of the people, who thus prove themselves to have become sensual and gross. It is the democratic spirit, the ascendency gained by low-born and uneducated people, the brawl of factious politics, the intriguing activity of desperate adventurers, the general distress among the higher classes, the vast and modern influence of the Stock Exchange, which has effected this downfall of the loftier pleasures of the mind. The

public, therefore, feel no interest but in matters of fact, and those such only as have a temporary attraction or use. They read scarce anything but newspapers, or vulgar pamphlets on the factious politics of the day, except the trash under the name of novels, furnished to females by the circulating libraries, which obtain no favour unless they are corrupt, extravagant, or an outrage on all good taste.

I do not entirely commend the cold decency of Gray's own age; its fearful and philosophic propriety never "snatch'd a grace beyond the reach of art." It soared not extra flammantia mænia mundi.

Gray's desponding melancholy was a morbid disease. His causes of unhappiness were reflections on the past; for the present he had no ground of complaint. His boyhood had been miserable, in consequence of his father's cruelty, perverseness, and extravagance. In his manhood he was in a state of easy independence, living amid the luxury of literature, free from all family cares, and all worldly vexations, or the consuming passions of ambition and rivalry; innocent, virtuous, peaceful, susceptible to the highest degree of all the beauties and all the grandeurs of nature, apprehensive, erudite, contemplative, profound, accurate, and ready in memory, with a just scorn of all the gauds and fooleries of the world, a lover of all the arts, and exquisitely skilful in them. To him life ought to have been a paradise, but for his spleen and melancholy.

His most perfect poem is, by universal consent, his "Elegy." This is, in its own class, unimitated and inimitable. But let us precisely discriminate of what kind its merits are. They are not those of imagination and fiction. They are all drawn from observation and experience, from the scenery of nature open to the eyes, and from the internal movements of the heart. A large portion of the sentiments may be found scattered about in other poets, but never in the same natural and happy combination, nor expressed with the same perfect vividness and harmony. But the concurrence of these sentiments with those of preceding writers does not prove that they were borrowed. It appears to me that they rose unprompted in Gray's own mind, but that when so risen the poet's rich memory sometimes recalled to him similar thoughts in others, and that he occasionally aided his expression by them. I confine these particular remarks to the "6 Elegy." I do not think that this was the process in most of his other compositions.

There is an entire unity in the "Elegy." All the parts are harmonious and inseparable parts of one whole. The complete outline must have flashed upon the poet at once. Some one pro