CLOSED CHURCHES.
ere THE EDITOR OF THE " 8PECTATOR.'1 Sin,--It causes one who has lived in and wandered in many lands, and who can pin his confession of faith to no particular altar, a certain satisfaction that the good people in England, in whose power it is to close church doors, are, at long last, beginning to realize that it is possible, and oven desirable, to commune with God, in His house, at other times than those announced on Sunday—and with no aid. War has, perhaps, taught many professional ministers of religion the, possibly, bitter lesson that the worst way to open the road to that which trans. cends understanding is to talk at a man from a pulpit, perpetually raising in him the demon of controversy. After some years' absence from England I now find that you can leave what is usually called the " bustle of the market-place," and, certainly, the glare, noise, and vulgarity of the streets of the City at midday, for the delicate peace of little St. Ethelburga's, or the quiet beauty of old St. Helen's. In these sanctuaries—and I doubt not in many more I know not of-'- you can let the cloistered peace of past centuries and the whispers of long-forgotten prayers that still echo in these places soothe your spirit and mingle with your own dumb, or articulate, aspiration. I believe, even now, objections are raised to the opening of cathedrals and churches daily when, obviously, most of use in their localities. It is not only soldiers who require a " peace out of pain." Surely even a paucity of nee, if proved, should not bar the few from what ought to be their right.—
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