case delay was unavoidable, no sovereign before
Elizabeth allowed any interval to elapse between
their accession and their formal crowning. The
delay in her case was the first symptom of
decaying belief in the sacred prerogatives and
exceptional virtues conferred on monarchs by
coronation; and this was not the least healthy
symptom of her vigorous reign.

After a brief glance at the chapter-house,
now in course of restoration by Mr. Gilbert
Scott, and a pleasant gossip concerning the
noble appearance it will present when the
recommendations of the Thames Embankment
Commission are carried out, and the ugly
modem houses near it are pulled down, we
leave the "temple of silence and reconciliation,
where the enmities of twenty generations lie
buried," equally convinced of the excellence of
the arrangements now in force for showing the
cathedral, and of the patience and politeness
displayed in carrying those arrangements out.

      THE WORLD'S WAGES.

     AN HUNGARIAN STORY.

IN the hot midday sunshine a poor countryman
was making his way homeward to his native
village, wearied and bent under the ponderous
burden he was bringing from the neighbouring
town. He knew well that a scolding awaited
him (as usual) from his ill-tempered wife, who
had been expecting him with no little impatience,
and every step seemed to tire him more, and to
make his load heavier, as it brought him nearer
to her rattling, wrangling tongue; he felt so
wholly exhausted that he was glad to stagger
to the boundary stone of an adjacent field, upon
which he sat himself down to rest for a short
quarter of an hour.

Under the stone, however, in a rut which
had been made by a watercourse, or by the
result of some accident which had caused the
displacement of the stone, an enormous snake
was hidden, and scarcely was the countryman
seated ere the snake put out her head, and, with
a loud but agonised hiss, thus spoke:
"Welcome, welcome, friendly stranger! Take pity
on me, and release me from the weight of this
monstrous stone, which every instant threatens
to crush me. It is more and more
unbearable, and if you will not save me I must
perish."

The countryman doubted whether he ought
to assist a reptile of such known and hereditary
enmity to man. He felt, however, some pity,
though he hesitated to draw nearer to the snake;
but the snake appealed to him with
ever-increasing earnestness. "I implore, I conjure
you, by all that is merciful! Save me! save
me! I will reward you with every recompense
that man pays to man for his good deeds—but
save me!" The countryman could not resist
the repeated piteous appeals; he mustered all
his strength, turned over the stone, and released
the prisoner.

What was his astonishment, what his fright,
when the monster, full of fury, moved towards
him, spitting poison and menacing destruction.
He could scarcely find breath to ask, while pale
and trembling he staggered away, "Is this the
reward, the promised reward to thy deliverer!"
The snake coldly replied, "Such are the world's
wages for benefit; and I promised thee nothing
more."

The words only increased the countryman's
alarm, he saw no way of escape and no helper
was at hand. Finding no hope of deliverance,
his heart beating with horror, his cheeks streaming
with tears, he thus addressed the terrible
reptile, "I am in thy power, at thy mercy, I
have neither strength nor courage to resist, and
yet I cannot understand the meaning of thy
discourse. I am a poor simple countryman,
ignorant of the ways of the world. I know
not whether its wages are such as you propose
to pay. Enlighten me on this matter, or at
least let some just judge decide between us."

"So be it," answered the snake. "'Tis a
reasonable proposal. On that dry heath there
is an ancient war horse, a far nobler beast than
I may have appeared to thee, let us hasten to
him; he shall be the judge."

No sooner said than done. The countryman
moved tremblingly over the fields, and his
venomous companion crept slowly behind him.
They reached the burnt and grassless heather,
and, behold, a grey horse stood before them—a
ragged steed, a mere skeleton—whose nostrils
were exploring the barren heath in search of a
few scattered blades of grass. The snake broke
the silence, and began to question the poor
broken-down beast, "What dost thou here on
this wild waste, while there is such a supply of
rich fodder in the master's stables? What
brought thy noble loins to such a wretched
skeleton, which thy rough hide scarcely covers?"
Neighing woefully, the horse replied, "Know
you not that these are the common wages of
the world, and it is thus that friendly services
are rewarded? For thirty weary years I bore
a valiant warrior on my back, I obeyed his
every wink, I turned at his every touch of my
bridle. Seven times I saved him in the battle
tempest from fetters and from death. Now worn
out by toil and time, no longer able to serve,
he has delivered me over to the knacker, and
soon my hide is to be severed from my bones."

"Ha! ha!" said the snake to the countryman.
"Dost thou hear? Prepare for death, for that
is thy doom." He spoke, coiled himself up,
and was about to spring furiously upon the
doomed one, but he threw himself down humbly
on his knees between the horse and the snake,
and thus put forward his petition, "Spare me,
spare me but a little while; I have a wife and
children at home. Who will provide for them
if you destroy me? O let us appeal to
another judge—the life of man hangs upon the
award—and if he confirms the sentence given I
will prepare myself for death."

"Agreed," said the crafty creature. "I grant
also this to thee of my great grace." And they
crossed the heather over to a thicket in which