The Cardiff and Merthyr Guardian Glamorgan Monmouth and Brecon Gazette

tower and spiro into one is very happy. Though the form be French, it is clothed in English detail, and is made to assimilate well with the surrounding work. THE RE-OPENING ON TUESDAY. THE MORNING SERVICE. The most extensive preparations had been made to ?'ve eclat to the re-opening of the church of the diocese. he fact that Dr. "YVilberforce, the Bishop of Oxford, was to preach the sermon, brought a very large number of persons from all parts of the diocese, to be present at the opening services. Some new seats had been ob- tained for the occasion, and the entire nave was filled with benches and chairs, while the presbytery was also eovered with seats for the accommodation of the large number of clergy who were expected to attend. The pulpit, choir, stalls, and Bishop's throne had been very beautifully decorated for the occasion with choice flowers the font was also similarly embel- lished, and a cross of white roses floated on the water. The altar was covered with flowers, a cross of white roses also projecting from the centre. Trellis work of evergreens extended up the side of the presbytery arch, in the span of which bands of evergreens were placed along the fillets of the moulding. Over the arch was a motto, "Alleluia, Alleluia." On one side was a prettily designed St. Andrew's Cross, and on the other were the symbols of the Trinity in leaves and flowers. Some choice exotic plants in bloom were also placed in front of the choir screen. Very early in the morning cabs and carriages poured into the city from all parts, while other conveyances ran to and fro between Cardiff and Llandaff. By eleven o'clock a very largo number of persons who had not tickets for admission to the cathedral assembled outside, waiting for the opening of the doors. At 11 o'clock the entire nave was filled, and many of those who could not obtain seats, tilled up the passages in the side aisles. The congregation, a very large number of whom were ladies, included many of the principal families of the diocese. Among those present were :—Mrs. and Miss Ollivant, Bishop's Court; Sir G. and Lady Walker; the Hon. M. and Mrs. Curzon; Colonel and the Hon. Mrs. Lindsay; Sir Frederick Ouseley; H. S. Giffard, Esq.; J. Boyle, Esq.; J. Bruce Pryce, Esq. G. T. Clark, Esq., and Miss Clark, Dowlais; Edward Romilly, Esq., High Sheriff; the Mayor of Cardiff, T. Evans, Esq.; Howel Gwyn, Esq., Duffryn; J. R. Homfray, Esq., and Mrs. Homfray, Pwllywrach; G. W. G. Thomas, Esq., and Mrs. Thomas, Coedriglan D. Davis, Esq., Cwm; Evan Williams, Esq., Duffrynfrwd; T. W. Booker, Esq., and Mrs. Booker; T. Gaddard, Esq., St. Fagans; D. Whitehouse, Esq., Gaer Rev. C. Stacey, Cardiff; J. S. Corbett, Esq., and Mrs. CoroRtt G. Llewellyn, Esq. T. Gilbertson, Esq., &c., &0. The service commenced by a procession of the clergy of the diocese, wearing their surplices, from the Pre- bendal House, preceded by the Llandaff choir, the verger bearing the banner of the choir, entering the western door singing the processional hymn, Brightly Gleams our Banner." The procession, which included a large number of the clergy, passed slowly up the centre aisle to the presbytery, where seats had been specially provided for them. The health of the Dean did not permit him to join in the procession, and he had already taken his place in the stalls. Amongst the clergy present on this occasion we recognized the Rev. V. Saulez, rector of Canton; Rev. E. A. Green, St. John's Church, Splottlands Rev. D. Howell, vicar of St. John's; Rev. J. W. Usman, Iron Church, Butetown; Rev. E. Jones, All Saints Rev. Parker Morgan, St. Mary's; Rev. J. H. Morris, St. John's; Rev. J. H. Protheroe, chaplain County Gaol Rev. W. Twyning, Grosmont Rectory; Rev. W. Evans, St. Lythans Rev. E. Leigh, Tredegar; Rev. Edward Jenkins, Mountain Ash; Rev. W. Phillips, Risca Rev. J. Griffith, Mer- thyr; Rev. E. T. Williams, Caldicott; Rev. E. Griffiths, Llanmartin Rev. E. B. Leonard, Landevaud Rey. T. LI. Lister, Newport; Rev. T. Fox, Newport; Rev. T. Davis, Whitchurch; Rev. J. D. Watherton, Monmouth; Rev. A. C. Saunder, Magor; Rev. J. Jones, Llanthewy Rev. H. P. Edwards, Caerleon Rev. A. F. Hogan, LIanvibangle Rev. W. David, St. Fagans Rev. J. Jones, Blaenavon; Rev. S. F. Gardener, Goitrey Rev. J. D. Sparkes, Roath Rev. S. D. Harding, Pentwyn Rev. T. Pope, Newport Rev. R. T. Tyler, Llantrythid Rev. W. Bruce, St. Nicholas Rev. H. J. Thomas, Pentyrch; Rev. D. Morgan, Llandaff Rev. J. Lias, Llandaff Rev. H. H. Rickards, Llandough Rev. C. R. Knight, Tytheg- stone; Rev. G. Harries, Gelligaer Rev. C. F. B. Wood, Penmark Rev. C. Lewis, Peterstone Rev. T. Ed- mondes, Cowbridge; Rev. F. W. Edmondes, St. Brides Rev. E. F. Allen, Porthkerry Rev. Rankin Hall, Shirenewton Rev. J. W. C. Lindsay, Llanvaches Rev. W. Hope, Caldicott; Rev. Vaughan Hughes; Rev. W. Steele, Caerwent; Rev. J. D. Cadwaller, Uak Rev. J. Evans, Marshfield Rev. J. C. Llewellyn, Pontypool; Rev. J. Williams. Marcross Rectory Rev. D. P. Thomas, Llamnaes; Rev. George Woods, Sully; Rev. J. W. Evans, St. Melans Rev. D. Lewis, Britonferry Rev. Ware Harris, Bridgend; Rev. D. Thomas, Margam; Rev. Richard Evans, Merthyrdovan Rev. F. Taynton, Cowbridge Rev. C. H. Llewellyn, Coychurch Rev. J. Francis, Tondu Rev. J. Powell.Toues, Llantrissant. The proces- sion being closed by the Rev. Canon Hawkins, New- port Price, Lanarth Jenkins, Welshpool; Perowne, Uandaif Archdeacon Blosse, Archdeacon Crawley Chancellor Morgan, Machen Rectory the Bishops of Bangor, Oxford, and Llandan. The service, which was intoned by the Rev. J. Lias, commenced when the hymn closed, the prayers being said by the Rev. F. C. Skey. Archdeacon Crawley read the first lesson, and Canon Hawkins the second lesson. The anthem, "0 how amiable" (Gladstone), was rendered with excellent effect. At the conclusion of the prayer a hymn was sung, and the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Oxford com- menced his sermon. He took his text from the 7th verse of the 4th chapter of the Book of the Prophet Zechariah—" And he shall bring forth the headstone thereof with shoutings, crying Grace, grace unto it." It had been, he said, my friends, a time of doubt and difficulty and fear when these words were spoken by the prophet in the ears of the returned exiles of Judah. For seventy years they bad been in Babylon, and as they looked across that waste they looked upon a dark and a stormy time—those evil days in which the ancient Kingdom of David had endured such re- proach and such sorrow. And then these seventy years had lain heavy upon the heart of the nation. They had to change the songs of Sion for the sight of the great heathen worship of Babylon. Everything around them seemed to take up the same strain, and depressed their spirits. Instead of the sparkling rills which came down the mountain sides of Judea, they had gazed heavily upon the hot half sleeping stream which was the strength of Babylon, and they had heard a heathen tongue instead of their own high n >tes of praise to their King. And now but a handful of people with enemies of every kind around them, they had returned to the old ruin with hardly heart enough to set about building up the walls of God's house, the temple. Then came the voice of prophecy in the midst, "Ye shall bring forth the head stone thereof with shoutings, crying, Grace, grace unto it. The hands of Zerubbabel have laid the foundation of this house, his handj shall finish the building." I think, my brethren, that as we stand to-day in this Cathedral Church, we may enter in some measure into what were the feelings of the people at that time. Hardly more hopeless did it seem to restore this great temple of God to the state in which our eyes see it to-day, than it seemed to the people of Judea to rebuild their own old temple. Think for a moment what was the condition of things here. How utterly waste the old building had become, and, worse than its old waste- ness, a miserable, scanty, ill-considered mean restora- tion had seemed to forbid the entire restoration of this freat old fane of worship. Remember, brethren, for ow many years it had lain in this way,—waste. What a history it was. When we cast our eyes back to the beginning of this Church, to the time when originally the name of Christ was magnified here, and his people took up the song which we have been singing to-day, "Thou art the King of Glory, 0, Christ! Thou art the everlasting Son of the Father," in what a far back waste of years does the memory lose itself Whether we take the earliest tradition which settles the building of the first church here as early as the second century after Christ, or whether we bring it on to the sixth century after Christ yet what a vast vista of the generations of man is our eye led through And if we come to the building of the cathedral church which first stood here, still what a length, what a weary length of time it is for the eye to rest upon. And then the still more wearisome waste of those years of decay, the time when men began to despair about maintaining what their forefathers had the heart to build. The great cathedral which certainly was built here as early as 1108 years after Christ, began to lie waste at every turn, so that at last its roof fell in, its towers in the midst of the hurricane were cast down upon its noble aisle, and there it stood, a record of the heartlessness of men who could not keep up what the bounty of God had given to them. Surely we can understand, my brethren, something of the feeling of those Jews as they looked around upon the waste of their temple, and had hardly heart to begin the work. And then we can enter, too, thank God, into the joy of their spirits when the voice of prophecy woke them up and made them believe surely that the very hand of Zerub- babel which had laid the foundation should finish the glorious work, and see the temple completed, should bring forth the head stone tnereof with shoutings. So God has suffered it, in His goodness, to be with us. How great is the change even since twelve years ago, when you gathered in this fane to thank Cod for the work then done How great the sacrifice since how large the expenditure how blessed the result! And to-day you stand, too, having had the head stone brought with shoutings and with cries of Grace, grace, unto it. Well then, my brethren, the key note of to- day's service is this—a completed work, the work which God in his goodness has suffered you to see finished, there remaining but embellishments which will no doubt be added, because such a spirit as has rebuilt this temple will never rest till thesi; windows are filled with painted glass, till these seats are carved with the carver's skill, and all the rest of thoje things which are the embellishments of the building are accom- plished. But the main work, thank God, is done. We may say it is a completed work. Now, what should be the tone and temper of a Christian man's mind over an accomplished work ? This is what I should desire to set before you in the few words I am allowed to speak this mornirg to you. Well, now brethren, the first emotion of every completed work is one of thank- fulness and of joy—thank God it is done, the shoutings, the crying "Grace, grace unto it." That is the first, the leading idea that conies into the mind when first it con- templates a great work accomplished. But it docs not stop there. Every great work accomplished is a tying measure. Every such work, in proportion to its greatness, necessarily connects itself with the past and with the future as well as with the present joy. The first thought almost, after the burst of satisfaction has died away, is the looking back through the progress by which the work was completed—a retrospect. The eye rests first upon the old ruin—what a state of things it was Then next comes the remembrance of the first suggestion that something might be done. It was at first but a faint whisper, like the breathing of the even- tag air as it sighed around the old ruin, just resting on the air and passing away. "Do you remember," one says, "how we stood amongst the ruins that moon- light night and pictured to ourselves what it would be if it could be restored?" "Do you remember how one said, why should it be restored?" There is first that distant suggestion, perhaps caused by some affection to someone connected with it, some desire to embalm some precious name, some idea that that name might be embalmed by such a work of restoration as this, and hard upon that first suggestion came a doubt, "Can it be done ? Is it not too much ? Is it possible for us to undertake it ? Should we not break down if we try ?" The mist gathering round the young suggestion, almost blotted it out from the face of the land- scape. And then that doubt being brushed away by the breeze of Heaven, the suggestion growing into a design, the next step is Let us undertake it; God helping us the thing shall be done." .Awl then the setting about it, and as soon as it is set about difficul- ties of every kind appear. Then, as soon as it is set about, the doubts of Sanballat, the Horonite, and Tobias are heard. Difficulties of every kind appear. Adversaries stand in the way, the scorners with their hard words of reproach, leading the whisperer and sug- gester to make evil surmisings, and ready to breathe the cold palsying breath into the .ears of men. Then the struggle with the difficulties, and the difficulties begin to vanish with the strength of purpose with which they were met, and then, as the work went on, and the way was developed in our hands, we did that which was meant to be done, and then this and that was done more perfectly than before, because that which we had proposed to do had been more than done. So idea grew out of idea, and purpose grew from purpose, and desire came out of desire, and that which seemed to our first idea quite sufficient, led to a step forwards in the accomplishment of our work, and thus persever- ance, day by day, took us through the labour and work, and we said, seeing this is done, it is enough for to-day, let to-morrow's be done on the morrow and the next year and when the next year comes, if God spares us, we will do the work that is then required. So the whole history is accomplished, and the work is mea- sured by the measure of our retrospect. From the suggestion to the design, from the design through doubts and difficulties and struggles to development, until by a strong hand and persevering might, shout- ing, crying "Grace, grace, unto it," and the work is done, through the good hand of our God being upon us. Here is the first part. What such an accom- plished work leads to; a retrospect of the past, with all its anxieties and- difficulties, as seen in God's deal- ing with us. Then there is the prospect of the future. Now that this work is done—is that all. My brethren, there is a future before everything, for no great work is accomplished for itself, because'every great work as a seed, a something to grow out. The seedless thing is not a great work. Every really great work is a thing instinct with some principle of life for the future, and so will the joy which follows victory be the substitute for the plaintive retrospect, and the plaintive retro- spect will grow into the glowing anticipation of what it shall be hereafter. How eminently is this the case with the history of the Jews, to which I tried to direct your thoughts. The temple was rebuilt that the name of Jehovah might be again amongst his covenanted people and that there should be prophecy, the voice of instruction, and the opening of heaven's bless- ing, and marking the people out as his chosen family to receive and hand on the oracles of their God. If it was so with them, is it much less so with us, brethren. The beauty of this place —and it is very great—is but the least thing about it. It is because it is the House of God, and the house of prayer, and one of the many witnesses, one of the many symbols, one of the many in- struments of His dwelling amongst us. It is more than merely an ordinary church, great as that is. The re-building of a cathedral in a diocese may become a mighty instrument of good for the souls of men, and as we look on to the work which this Cathedral has to do, we see much to hope for, much to labour for, much to pray to our God for. For think what the great purpose of a cathedral is. It is the place of cen- tral worship for a large extent of Christian country it is the drawing together into itself of the prayer and of the praise of every separate parish church in the diocese. The tendency of prayer and praise is to run together. Don't you think that above this dull earth, with all its cares, the prayer and praise of the people of God come together into one mighty stream setting heavenward, and leaving this dull earth, in which it had its beginning and foundation, and flowing upwards, evermore upwards, until it reaches to the throne of God. Have not the separations, the divisions, the discords, the miserable partings which here below marred that worship, have not they disappeared as harsher features of the earth disappear, when the gentle light of distance is set over them ? Have not these discords died in the mighty camp as you approach the foot of the blessed throne, and is it not but one song, but one voice from young to old, learned and ignorant, from those that knew not here the thoroughness of their unity, but loving the one Lord, worshipping the same God through the one Saviour in the one eternal spirit. And we may say with truth, that this cathedral, as it is restored, is the earthly emblem, draw- ing together from time to time, as this day, in actual visible union the members of a hun- dred churches, the dwellers of a hundred parishes, the worshippers before a hundred altars, as one man in Christ Jesus, that they may together offer up to Him their praises and their prayer, because in Christ Jesus there is neither Greek nor Jew, neither male nor fe- male, but all are one in the intense uniity of his God- head and humanity. Well, this is the very first idea, brethren, which a cathedral church should show. It is to be a centre of spiritual unity it is to be the in- strument of conformity in worship; it is to be the measure to which the other churches of the diocese are to aspire in song, in ornament, in the voice of the preacher, in the blessing of God upon the instruments of music, it is that which is to keep the note up high, sharp, clear, which is to lift up the hundred other churches, which is at once to minister to them the blessed peace of unity, and the great strength which comes from their being conscious in their division of their oneness, in their separation of their identity. Well, then, here is a future before this cathedral in this place fast multiplying, and where the means of material wealth are being every day developed, where, within two miles of this ancient building, what was but a little town is growing now into a vast congeries of men from every part of the earth, adding to its .wealth, and no limit to its increase, like the increase of Tyre and of Sidon in the days of old. In such a diocese as this, occupied by men naturally.^f great heat and warmth, and therefore liable to divisions, to distrusts, and separations, it is more than ordinarily important that there should be such a building as this in its centre, to testify to Christ's people what the Christian church's unity should be, to draw together the clergy, the communicants, the laity, of the whole 'district in that common act of worship, which I believe does more than any other thing upon earth, to mould together various spirits, and make them run as molten metal into one united mass, instead of remaining separate and segregated as grain scattered on the surface. Then let our thoughts go on from the present to the future of this house. Suffer one who is a stranger to say what one dwelling amongst you may not so aptly say. It will strengthen and unite you in the blessing of peace, and the way in which the spirit of peace descends upon the sons of peace will show you that every division is weakness that the seamless coat of Christ may not be rent, and that if you hasten the blessed day of his return, it must be by crying to him with one heart and one voice. "Lord, how long ?" Well then, brethren, this seems to me to be the keynote of our gathering here to-day. There is, however, one other thought which seems to me to bear upon the work before us. We can hardly pause upon a great completed work such as this old tem- ple of Jerusalem without seeing in it as we pause a type of that mystery of life which is in each one of us here ? When we look back upon our life past, is not it exactly like looking back upon the complete work done here ? If your life is anything of a whole, if you have come to render it up to Christ, your Redeemer, that it may be spent for Him, if it is not still a dream of madness or a burst of passion, a ruin into which the winds of Heaven seek, into which the light of Heaven looks and hangs about it almost with sadness, if it be not so, but if the work of your life is in any true degree done, if you have learned to know yourself, if you have learned to know your God, if you have given your life up consciously to be the life of Christ, to make him the centre around which it shall turn in its every aspiration, and in its every accomplishment, if this work has been in any measure done with you, you must look back even as we look back to this. Cannot you remember the sugges- tion which led. you first to seek indeed to give yourself to Him ? Cannot you remark the doubts, the difficul- ties that seemed to lie in your way when you were undertaking it, perhaps in confirmation, perhaps in some time of deep family sorrow, perhaps when you turned away from the grave where you had left all that made life worth the living to you ? At some such time, when God's hand was laid mightily upon you, and when indeed you did undertake his service, and said to yourselves that whatever was your weakness, and whatever the difficulties that were before you, you yet would undertake to live for Him who died for you. As you look back upon it, cannot you see the difficulties that beset you—the enemies that gathered around you, that waylaid you Tobias the Ammo- nite, and Sanballat the Horonite were in the way. The world would draw you back into itself. The devil would hinder you from getting unto Christ. Did not you find, brethren, just that development of thought that would at first be an easy thing ? It's only just to give up this, and the giving up of this required something else to be given up. It is but the bowing my head to that difficulty, and before you had boyred your head to it you saw yet another and a greater yoke to which you must yield yourself, and then was there not minis- tered to you that patience and that perseverance the ,aid of grace kindled again the spirit when it fainted. Views and visions of the love of Christ, which won you to Him when your heart was hot, or faint, or weary, or worldly. Has it not been so, beloved brethren, with every one of you, who has, through God's mercy, in any degree accomplished the work of living ? If it be so, let it have its thought of joy, let it have its shout- ings, crying grace, grace unto it; and let us have its prospect as well as retrospect. Look on, look on my brethren to that time when this work will be altogether done for you, when the weary end shall have been won, when for you too in that life in which you have learned to begin at least to live with Christ, the scaffolding should have been taken down, the labour accomplished, the anxiety over, the rest divine. Look at it to see if this, too, be not full of all the seeds of life, if there be not in that temple of the future for you, too, not only rest, but a vision of when we shall be perfected, a body altogether at rest, with its every limb answering in unity to the touch of Him who created, redeemed, and sanctified you. Yes, beloved brethren, as you look on our earthly worship here, so look on to that heavenly worship on which you shall take through God's mighty grace, your certain place, seeing for evermore the face of Him that redeemed you, and resting for evermore in the full sunlight of His countenance—a work accomplished, a life finished, the portal of the heavenly world won, the everlasting sun breaking through the interruptions of the earth and your understanding for the first time fully what those words of wonder mean, The Lord shall bring forth the head-stone, crying, Grace, grace unto it." After the conclusion of the sermon the Hallelujah Chorus was sung by the choir, during which a collection was made. Mr. F. W. Gladstone, the organist of the cathedral, presided at the organ with his usual ability, and the musical part of the service under his direction was executed with much taste and skill. The clergy then left the presbytery, and the vast concourse of people slowly left the nave, and remained for some time outside the building gazing with ad- miration at the beautiful specimen of architecture pre- sented by the now restored cathedral. The amount collected, including a handsome donation of £50 from one who had already been a liberal sub- scriber, amounted to £225. THE LUNCHEON. After the service in the morning a luncheon was supplied to the visitors in the dining hall at Howell's School, and the Pong room adjoining, a very large num- ber of guests had been invited by the Dean, but for all the most ample accommodation had been provided by the stewards of the school, under whose active super- vision the comfort of every guest was strictly attended to. The tables contained the choicest delicacies, while vases of choice flowers on the table, and rare plants in bloom in the windows, gave to the hall a very tasteful appearance. The Venerable the Dean of Llandaff pre- sided, supported by J. Bruce Pryce, Esq. There were also present, the Bishop of Oxford, the Bishop of Bangor; the Bishop of Llandaff, Mrs. and Miss Ollivant Hon. Mr. and Mrs. Curzon Sir George and Lady Walker Sir F. G. Ouseley Colonel and Hon. Mrs. Lindsay Edward Romilly, Esq., High Sheriff, and Mrs. Romilly Howel Gwyn, Esq., and Mrs. Gwyn G. T. Clark, Esq.; G. Thomas, Esq., and Mrs. Thomas J. Boyle, Esq. G. Llewellyn, Esq. H. S. Giffard, Esq., Q.C. E. W. Seymour, Esq., and Mrs. Seymour; T. W. Booker, Esq., and Mrs. Booker; the Mayor of Cardiff Miss Rous Colonel Davis, United States Consul C. Sumner, Esq., Chancellor of the diocese of Winchester, and Mrs. Sumner Mrs. Mackworth J. R. Homfray, Esq., and Mrs. Homfray C. Waldron, Esq. E. W. David, Esq., Fairwater House; G. Dornford, Esq, F. Mitchell, Esq., and Mrs. Mitchell G. Williams, Esq., Duffryn Ffrwd, and Mrs. Williams Captain Boyle and Mrs. Boyle; the Vice-Principal of Jesus College, Oxford; Franklen G. Evans, Esq., &c., &c. All the clergy of the diocese were invited, of whom about 200 were present, together with many clergy from other dioceses. There were at the luncheon about 500. On the removal of the cloth, the CHAIRMAN gave the health of the Queen, which was duly acknowledged. The CHAIRMAN, in proposing the health of the Bishop of Oxford and of the Bishop of Bangor—the preachers for the day—said It seems to me that on this joyful and interesting occasion we ought first of all to recall to mind those into whose labours we have entered, and who, though no longer amongst us, ought certainly to have their names connected with the tri- umph of this day. Canon Douglas, I believe, gave in 1839 the first imqulse towards the present restoration, and the eastern window or the lady chapel, due I think to his bounty, was the commencement of that work which has moved steadily on since that time from the eastern to the western end of the cathedral. Bruce Knight, then Chancellor of the Diocese and of the Church (whose name is yet honoured amongst us), gathered subscriptions and completed the restora- tion of that chapel and when a meeting was assembled in 1843, to present him with a testimonial on his ap- poinment to the Deanery, which after the lapse of centuries he was the first to fill, the Rev. George Thomas, who had subscribed handsomely towards the restoration of the lady chapel, suggested the further prosecution of the work of restoration, and promised his own liberal aid Bishop Copleston gave his hearty assent to the proposal, and contributed as he always did largely to the fund. Bruce Knight however, though one of his last acts was to make a vigorous effort to raise funds to carry this suggestion out, was not permitted to see the undertaking actually begun, but in 1845 he bequeathed its execution to my imme- diate predecessor, Dean Conybeare, who to his many and varied acquirements added a thorough knowledge of architecture, and under his auspices it was carried on until 1857, at a cost from the commencement of about £9,000. The Bishop of Oxford then came amongst us, when we met to celebrate the restoration of that portion of the cathedral which, though disfi- gured by the hand of man, had not been left like the western end roofless and ruined, for time and storm to work their will. What an impression was made on our hearts by his sermon on that day I well remem- ber, it certainly stirred my own and when we met afterwards at luncheon, and congratulated one another on the past, I felt and proposed that something more ought on that occasion to be done. He had, with the breath of his mouth, heated the metal to a glowing temper; he had made it soft and malleable and it was my humbler part to strike the iron while it was hot, and truly, the sparks which at once began to fly were a surprise and an astonishment to myself. (Applause.) Here and there, on the right hand and on the left, men sprung up and pledged their aid. My excellent and venerable friend, Mr. Bruce Pryce, spoke first, and offered with his usual generosity his own five hundred pounds. The example was conta- gious, and in a few minutes nearly £3,000 were pro- mised in the room, and in a very few days that sum was doubled and proceedings were at once taken for the restoration of the ruined portion of our church. Soon, however, my gifted and excellent friend, Dean Conybeare, died, and you, my Lord, were pleased to confer the deanery on me, committing in the kindest and most flattering terms the prosecution of our work upon the cathedral to my hands. No one is more con- scious than myself how much, especially in the last few years, I have fallen short of that idea of duty which I had formed on entering upon my office, and the fulfilment of which you had a full right to expect. It has not, however, been altogether a willing lack of service long and serious illnesses of late have broken my strength, and rendered me unequal to many of those higher duties which I would gladly and wil- lingly perform, and which in other years I endeavoured, though it may be imperfectly, to discharge. The con- tinuance of our restoration, however, with your Lord- ship's aid, and with the aid of each of my colleagues, for we have all worked together at this work, I have strictly kept in view. The support of the public has never failed us, and never for one single hour has our work stopped from want of funds, though the sum which I named in 1857 (£10,000) as wanting to restore the ruin, has grown to £20,000, including the cost of the organ, the fund for which was largely increased by the publication of the Bishop's book. But now in all its main features our restoration is well nigh complete, though there are many minor details, of no little cost however in the aggregate, still left to exercise the spontaneous generosity of our friends. And I venture to say that amidst the many restorations of the present day ours stands, and must stand, unexampled and unrivalled still for in no other cathedral was one-half the structure an utter roofless ruin; in no other were choir and organ gone, a few broken pipes of an instrument given by the Lady Kemeys, of Cefn-Mabley, being all that remained of the latter in 1717, as we gather from the record of Browne Willis, while in the place of the former, the musical portion of the service was long left to the voices of the school children, under the leading of the base- viol of their master. In no other cathedral had the residence of canons ceased, or the daily service been suppressed; in no other cathedral had the library of the chapter been dispersed, and some of it burnt as ours was in the civil wlrs, when, as Browne Willis says, the Cavaliers of the country, and the wives of several sequestered clergymen were invited in bitter mockery to the Castle of Cardiff by the rebels, on a cold winter's day, to warm themselves by the fire which was then made with a great heap of Common Prayer-books, as well as a portion of our collection. By God's mercy, however, all this is altered now. Our cathedral is no more a ruin, but has been restored at a cost in the whole of about £30,000; choir and organ are once more heard within its walls our daily service is again renewed. The office of dean has been revived. The canons are resident as in any other cathedral city. We have commenced the collection of a library, which may, we trust, be of use to the clergy of the diocese as well as to ourselves and we may, I think, say with truth and thankfulness, that, looking to what we were and what we are, there is no restoration like our own. And yet we are told that the Church in Wales is dead or dying. There are no signs of it at any rate in Llandaff, as you yourselves have seen this day while both at St. David's and at Bangor the like work of cathedral resto- ration is now in hand. There are no signs of it throughout this diocese, in which, during the last twenty years, more than 35 new churches have been built; every old one at least repaired many thoroughly restored, others rebuilt from the very ground,—the impulse given by the cathedral vibrating from the centre to the circumference, as the vigorous beating of I the heart is felt through every limb in which schools, L which before that time were few and far between, are wwto be found in almost every parish; in which par- sonage houses, which, withitt my own recollection, were amost the exception, are now become the rule,—in vhich the number of the clergy has been largely multi- pied, at least seventy additional curates being due to tie aid of three societies alone. These surely are all symptoms of life and energy, not of death or of decay, vhy then is it so pertinaciously asserted, that the Church in Wales is dying ? I will answer that question, wth another, and the answer to the one will furnish the answer to the other, why did the Czar Nicholas, in spaking to Sir Hamilton Seymour, call the Sultan a si;k man ?" simply because he coveted his inheritance, h: wished to "disestablish" and to "disendow" him, 0: in the euphuistic language of a former Parliament t< "appropriate" his dominions, just so with us "the wish is father to the thought," we are persistently said t< be dying, because others view our heritage as Ahab vBwed the vineyard of Naboth, and like him are ready t( slay and to take possession. An English clergyman WHO had heard at home this oft repeated tale, came a slort time ago to one of our choral festivals, and as aiother sign of life, let me say that these choral fes- tivals of ours have been amongst the largest and the eirliest of all, and as he looked upon the animated scene around, he indignantly exclaimed, What! am I tc. ^e told after this that the church in Wales is dead or lying, 'it's a lie, it's a lie.' Now I would ask the Bishop of Oxford if his impressions, from his two visits hffe, have been anything like this when the subject ismooted, as mooted no doubt it soon will be, amongst hi peers, to give with that voice 011 which a listening senate hangs the same strong denial to the tale, but rut perhaps couched exactly in the same words, as tiey may seem scarce meet for ears polite, though, for nyself, I do really like sometimes to hear a spade plainly,and simply called a spade. But without refer- cice to the special case of the Church in Wales, I am aiked what use is it to build or endow churches or to restore cathedrals when the church throughout England, a well as Wales, is tottering to its fall. Oh no the Church is not and cannot be tottering to its fall—the Istablishment indeed may lie at the mercy of the legislature, but neither Parliament, nor King, nor kaiser can destroy the Church, of which Christ him- self has said, The gates of hell shall not prevail against it.' The establishment, however, may be in peril, and I am not one of those who think lightly of establish- ment, whether as regards the interest of the State, or th< interests of the Church itself. I cannot sympathize wi;h those who exaggerate, on the one hand, the in- coiveniences, and depreciate, 011 the other, the ad- vaitages of our present connexion, though I think that thi separation of that connexion would be far more in- ju'ioua to the State than to the church. When George Stiphenson was asked, in a scoffing tone, before a conmittee of the House of Commons, "But what if a cov should trespass on the line," he simply replied, in hii northern dialect, feeling that the danger was rather to the beast than to the train, so much the worse for tin coo;" and so, to those who may say, "But what of the separation between Church and State," I should be prepared to reply, so much the worse for the StLte;" and in more serious tones I would recall to mild the warning words of one of the greatest amongst Nonconformists divines, "Take care lest if you say, as a government, that you have nothing to do with God, He should say that he has nothing to do with you." Btt if there is danger to establishments in the present day, that danger will never be averted by feeble or by faiut-hearted counsels our strength is, not to sit still but to move on and I am pained when I hear that met pause and hesitate in their gifts, through the fear les« rude hands should ere long be laid on all that they ha'e given for the service of their God. But such doubt and. hesitation are the very things to provoke the move- ment which they deprecate and dread. A re there not those now, as there have been in every age since the Ascen- sion of our Lord, who are looking for His immediate re- turn to earth—for that day when all these things shall be dissolved but they do not cease to plant, to sow, to build, to take their part in the every-day work and business of life and should it not be so with us even, if we anticipate, not the "end of all things," but thB end of establishments and of vested rights ? And if mm see us standing with folded hands, listless, panic- stricken, 110 longer labouring as we have done before, in works of piety and love, the time of our disestablish- ment and of our disendowment will be indeed nigh at hand but if, on the contrary, they find us still active, earnest, useful, in rebuilding and restoring our churches, raising and endowing new ones, where new ones are required providing schools where schools are wanted yet; and the clergy more and more diligent in all the duties of their calling, that time, whatever threats we hear, will, I am persuaded, be distant and far off yet. Tken will be seen again the truth of Theodore Beza; saying to Anthony of Bourbon, The Church is an ar.vil which has worn out many an hammer." We shall have shown a "raison d Stre" plain and palpable to all eyes—that of practical usefulness—the only one which in the present day the nation will accept for es- tablishments or institutions of any kind. But apart from the peculiar circumstances of the times, there are those who will question still, but what is the use of all this outlay ? what is the use of a cathedral restored at such a cost ? a question which I must say always re- minds me of another question, and another questioner, Why was this waste made ?" Is it of no use to give something for the service of our God ? Is it of no use to show our reverence for Him whom we profess to love ? Is it of no use to honour Him with our substance as well as with our lips ? Is it of no use to have one church called in the old books, the "Parish Church of the whole Diocese," free and open to all, standing as it does in close vicinity to such a town as Cardiff ? Is it of no use that such a church should furnish a type of what other churches ought to be—as well in their ser- vices as in their structure;—in the one, as good George Herbert says: Neither too mean nor yet too gay;" in the other, the best and bravest building in the village or in the town. Is it of no use that there should be a parish church of all the diocese, where the representatives of all the parishes in the diocese can sometimes meet in a common oflering of prayer and praise ? Such meetings have not been uncommon amongst us of late years. I remember the time when we sadly lacked such a centre of union, when church- men in Monmouthshire knew nothing of churchmen in Glamorganshire when the men of one parish knew nothing of the men in another. Our Diocesan Societies, have, indeed, tended to bring us together of late, and so, too, has the restoration of our cathedral. Thrice, within the last ten years, have we gathered in such numbers as you have seen to-day to commemorate its progress and during the same period, almost year by year, have the choirs come up from every portion of the diocese, with representatives from every parish, and we have thereby drawn closer the links which bind us all together and we have recognised, I think, that in the cathedral we hare a common heritage, a bond of fellowship and union. Such, at least, were my own feelings when I stood some few years ago within its walls, and spoke from its pulpit to 1,200 singing men and singing women, with the large attendant con- gregation, filling the building, as it is always filled on such occasions, from the eastern to the western end. The sight to me was striking and affecting, and it im- pressed me strongly with the feeling that these gatherings were an evidence alike, both of the strength and of the unity of the Church—of that unity which is itself the real element of strength, and the want of which is the real source of weakness. Such unity for many years was ours" in Llandaff. We had in this diocese our own peculiar difficulties and trials, such as the poverty of our endowments, the vast extent of many of our parishes, our diversity of tongues, the enormous influx of strangers to labour in our hills, and to help to gather in the rich harvest of our mineral wealth but we were at peace at home. We may not, we could not, all have held precisely the same opinions, such is the diversity of human minds as well as of human faces but we worked together, and we were at least free from religious controversies, and from theological disputes. But is it so still ? or are we not here, as others are elsewhere, drifting wider and wider asunder, and ranging ourselves in hostile camps. Pardon me if I am treading on tender and on dangerous ground I must speak what is within my heart. I must give utterance to thoughts which have haunted me day and night during weeks and months while I have lain this year on a bed of pain and sickness, unable to read or write, and bidden to stint myself even in the use of tongue and thought. The last, however, was a simple impossibility, for thoughts will come and thoughts will rise, uncalled for and unbidden, and the thought that would at that season, stimulated perhaps by passing events, most frequently recur, was of the danger that we are in by our unhappy divisions, and my feelings have been ever since somewhat akin to those of Falk- land, who, in the sad days of civil strife, murmured even as in a waking dream, "Peace, peace, peace," until he himself fell on the blood-stained field of Newbury, whispering perhaps the same words with his last dying breath. We are talking indeed of union and of com- munion with foreign Churches, both in the East and in the West, and no real Christian can be unmindful of his Saviour's last prayer, for the oneness of his people, or cease to pray and to labour for it himself, so far as is consistent with the maintenance of truth. But strangely and inconsistently while there seems a deeper and more general yearning in men's hearts for unity with those who are without, there is at the same time a growing tendency to separation amongst those that are within, and the men of one opinion can scarce tolerate the existence of men of another opinion within the same pale, and if their own views are not to have sole prevalence and exclusive authority, they are ready to renounce their allegiance and to join the ranks of Rome or of Dissent, as choice may dictate or inclina- tion lead—and they are ranging themselves under different banners, and parcelling themselves out—some under the flag of the Church Union, others under the pennon of the Church Association, as if the Church itself ought not to be our real union, our real associa- tion. And is she not able still to hold us all in her own wide embrace. I belonged, as did the Bishop of Ox- ford, to a college which, not only nurtured amongst its students many of the statesmen who on different sides have played a prominent part in the government of this country for the last quarter of a century—such as Sir G. Grey, Sir J. Pakington, Lord Halifax, Southeron Estcourt, Sir William Heathcote, Sidney Herbert, Gathorne Hardy, Goschen, Lord Malmesbury; but also held evening after evening within its marvellous com- mon room, where nothing was taken for granted, where every subject, political or religious, was earnestly canvassed and debated, where every assertion had to be maintained by reason and by argument—Whately and Arnold and Hampden—with Pusey and Newman and Keble, and, surely never were there men of more divergent opinions in theology than these, and yet they lived in peace, and none among them ever desired to rid themselves of those with whom they differed. But has not the Church of England, ever since the Refor- mation, been as comprehensive as the common room of Oriel was in my own college days ? have there not always been two elements within her, which, if they could not freely mix, were at least not "incompatible," as chemists say, one with the other ? Has she not held and retained within her pale Hooker and Taylor, Andrews and Beveridge, Burnet and Bull, with a goodly array of honoured names, leaning some to one, some to the other school of theology into which the Church has been divided ? And why cannot it be so now ? are the limits of divergence which sufficed for them, not wide, not large enough for us ? Are we on one side or the other, stretching either our opinions or our practices beyond what contented them ? Or are we, on the other hand, seeking to narrow the boundaries of communion, and so to exclude men whose differences were not thought such as to exclude them then ? The present internecine war must be for one or for the other of these reasons, and is it not to our shame that while we have not more earnestness, we should have far more bitterness, far more narrow- ings of mind, than those who have gone before us. And at what a time too are we indulging these hostile feel- ings ? Just when the Church needs all the strength which unity alone can give to meet the unnatural coali- tion which has been formed against her, but of which I should have but little fear, if we were as one amongst ourselves, instead of too closely imitating the madness of the Jews in the last sad siege of the holy city of Jerusalem. Some among you will think, perhaps, that I ought not, on the present occasion, to have touched I on topics so serious and so delicate as these. Bear with me, however, and forgive me if I have said one word that grates upon the feelings of any single guest; but the occasion is not, as it seems to me, unsuitable to thoughts like these. We have met to-day in the central church of the diocese, we have gone up to the house of God as friends, we have joined in a common offering of prayer and praise. Is not all this suggestive of unity and peace, and can we consistently go back to our homes to renew our quarrel, and to resume our strife ? Can we continue, by any use or practice of ours, innocent though it may be in itself, but surely not es- sential, to wound the religious sensibilities of others, and thus to widen a breach which it ought to be the aim of all of us to close ? We may deem these differ- ences trifling and lawful, but It is the little rift within the lute That by and by will make the music mute, And, ever widening, slowly silence all. Can we, as members of this or of that institution (I care not what its name may be), again assemble our forces in public meetings to denounce our brethren, to discuss before ignorant and heated crowds the deepest mysteries of religion, to attempt before them definitions of that which is indefinable, and to lay down dogmas for acceptance other than the dogmas accepted of the Church and oh saddest of all in the blindness of party warfare, to travesty before a reckless multitude, the Church's most solemn and most holy rites. If, however, this occasion seems less suitable to others than to myself, bear with me still, for none other oc- casion will ever come to me. I am old, feeble, failing. I ought not, perhaps, to have been here to-day. I shall never address, I shall never attempt to address a gathering such as this again let me then leave, with- out offence, my last words upon your ears "Our safety is in union and in concord, our certain ruin in division and in strife." (Applause.) The BISHOP of OXFORD rose first to respond. He said he returned them his most heartfelt thanks for the manner in which his name had been alluded to by his friend the Dean, and for the manner in which they had received the toast. He was not sorry in one sense that his name had been introduced at so early a stage in the meeting, but he regretted in another that he must be very brief in his reply, for as he was about to rise to acknowledge the toast which had been so warmly re- ceived, a brief note was placed in his hand by one of the attendants, and on which was written, The Bishop of Oxford's carriage is at the door." (A laugh.) As it was, therefore, he must obey that iron rule of the time which stopped for neither man, woman, nor child, nor even for a bishop, and he would therefore ask his brother of Bangor to reply, as he was fully able to reply for him, and take up the toast which he was under the necessity of leaving in his hands. He again thanked them for the very cordial manner in which they had received him, and he assured them that it was to him an especial pleasure to be present a second time to take part in this great work, for it really was a great work, the raising up of that fine old ruin, thus showing before all men the life that was in them by making a grand and worthy provision for the worship, service, and honour of Him who had given of things material so richly to this favoured part of their country. He again begged to thank them for the cordial welcome they had given him. His Lordship then left the room amidst loud applause. The BISHOP of BANGOR next rose, and said before he acknowledged that part of the toast that devolved upon him, he must confess that it was hardly neces. sary to charge him with the duty devolving upon his light reverend brother, and to express his gratitude for the welcome he had received, and which no person could express with the same warmth, the same eloquence, and the same feeling as he had done, and had done so efficiently. Therefore, on that point he should say nothing further, but confine himself to what more properly belonged to him. Under other circumstances he might have hesitated before coming down to be pre- sent at the re-opening of their grand cathedral, and perhaps his conscience might warn him that his duty lay in another direction. At the same time his feelings were too strongly bound up with this diocese, his con- nection with it had been too long, his associations con- nected with it of too close a character to allow him to decline coming when his old friend, the Dean, re- quested him to come down and be present at their gathering >.p-day. Besides which, Vnc work wl^h had been completed here was just beginning in s own diocese. Their gifted friend, the Bishop of Cxtord, in the early part of that beautiful p*nuon which they had heard that morning, «>>oke of certain influences on the mind n.t the beginning of the work and during the years tin"1 the work was still going on, and he could not help ^feeling rising up before his own mental vision pi^jires that exactly illustrated what he then said, ..d which might have filled with hopes and fears his revered, *?nd valued friend, on whose memory he never looked back without the deepest gratitude, Dean Bruce Knight, when he first set forth upon this work, and whose friendship he had the honour of possessing, and for his kindness to him (the Bishop) he could never be sufficiently grateful. His gratitude was also due to the late Bishop of the diocese, and to his respected friend and brother, the present Bishop of the diocese. All these things were so many links in a chain which drew hint among them that day. Among the clergy of the diocese he had also many friends. He had spent a great part of his life in the diocese, and he well remembered the old cathedral as it stood in ruins, and he had watched with interest the successive step3 that had been taken to restore it, and bringing it from what it was, a most miserable ruin in which to hold a service in praise of God. In his part of the Principality they were just commencing a work similar to that whichix their own diocese they had just completed. They hardly knew what was before, or in what way to direct their footsteps. In the work of restoring cathedrals of the different dioceses throughout the country, did he not see the manifestation of the spirit that was gradu- ally increasing and extending throughout the whol e length and breadth of the land ? Doubtless God had placed their lot in serious and troublous times; but might they not take courage, and nerve their hearts to feel their true position ? Might they not feel thankful to God for the feeling that was rising, not in one spot or two, but throughout the length and breadth of the Principality, and increasing interest in God's work ? He had lately witnessed the very liberal manner in which the labouring classes had in some part of the country come forth, and from their poverty con- tributed largely to the restoration of their parish churches. He considered this was a most healthy sign in the history of their church. (Applause.) The BISHOP of LLANDAFF next rose amid loud ap- plause, and said Mr. Dean, ladies and gentlemen— You have done me the honour, sir, of asking me to pro- pose a toast on this occasion, and it is with great plea- sure that I shall endeavour to execute the trust which you have committed to me; and. I only wish that I could fulfil it in a manner suitable to the depth of my feeling, and upon the present occasion also the feeling which will undoubtedly rise in the bosoms of everyone present, when I state what the terms of my toast are. I have been requested to propose the health of the sub- scribers to the fund for the restoration of our cathedral. (Applause.) But before I do so permit me, sir, to ex- press on my own behalf, and on behalf, I may as- suredly say, of every pereou here present, with what thankful joy we contemplate the fact of your being able to take the chair upon this festive occasion. (Ap- plause.) It may possibly appear to some that my al- lusion to this subject is irrelevant to the particular object of my toast, but I am quite certain that a moment's reflection will show that it is most appropriate, for you, sir, have not only been one of the earliest, but one of the most liberal subscribers in the diocese to the restoration fund (hear, hear) and it is mainly owing to your own energy, perseverance, and ability that we have carried out the work to its present completeness. It is impossible to forget the impulse that was given to the work in 1857, a period now twelve years ago, in that admirable address which you made on the occasion of our first gathering, when our right reverend friend, the Bishop of Oxford, came to preach to us in our cathedral. Sir, it is owing to the zeal with which you have collected the fund for the work—the watchful care you have exercised over all the details of the undertaking, and it is owing to the wisdom, the tact, and the ability with which you ma- naged the negotiations with the Ecclesiastical Commis- sioners, respecting the arrangement of the chapter's funds, which has ended by the erection of that beau- tiful tower and spire, and it is owing to this that we were enabled to gaze on that beautiful tovyer which had so gladdened our hearts to-day. Sir, you have alluded in very feeling terms to the painful illness with which it has pleased God to visit you in the course of this spring and I can assure you that your friends felt the deepest sympathy with you on that occasion. (Hear, hear.) We are heartily thankful that it has pleased God to spare you to this time, and we hope you may live many years to enjoy the completion of your many labours. In thebeaotiful sermon which we had the privilege of hearing this morning, our right rev. friend drew a very interestingsketchofthecircumatances which must have preceded the first attempt to set this work in progress. It was in 1843 that these secret aspira- tions—these secret whisperings came to a crisis. It was at a meeting held in that year—a meeting con- vened for the purpose of honouring our first Dean— I say our-first Deau, for it was the first Dean we bad had in this diocese since the days of William Rufus— the Rev. Bruce Knight, with whom the project was first brought to a practical issue. On that occasion, as many here will probably lemember, the Rev. J. Nicholl expressed himself in these terms: His Lordship then read an extract of Mr. Nicholl's speech on that occasion, in which he expressed his great regret that in the heart of the diocese their grand old cathedral should he allowed to remain in the state of ruin it then was, and he expressed also a strong hope that the counties of Glamorgan and Monmouth would unite togethertowipe away the reproach that was cast on them by permitting the building to remain in the condition it then was, and he hoped that they would not allow their children to suppose that they were content to allow the fabric to remain in a state of partial completion, and that whatever would be the cost of the restoration those who engaged in it would find the work a labour of love, and he hoped that the clergy and laity would unite to sweep away the hideous approach that was then in existence, artd through which they entered the rest of the edifice. Another speaker, Bishop Cople- eton, also spoke very strongly in favour of carrying on the work of restoration and of completing the building so as to carry out the design of its original founders, and that if it were not done the very stones in the old building would cry out, and the beams and the timbers creak to remind them of their duty in pro- viding the means of their restoration. These words, his Lordship continued, were uttered in 1843. Our ancestors took centuries in building their cathedral, and we cannot feel surprise that it has taken twenty- six years to execute the work which we heLVe this day seen has been accomplished. For we had not only to build a cathedral, but we had to unbuild it. We had to pull down that monstrous and hideous structure placed there by the last generation. (Hear, hear.) For twenty-six years this great work has been continued. Sir, it is our privilege to live an age which has been dis- tinguished pre-eminently for its zeal in erecting addi- tional churches, restoring ancient parish churches to their former condition, and I bless the Almighty that we live in a period in the history of the Churches of England in which so much has been manifest in that particular direction in our diocese. Now, sir, a remark has been made that if we were to travel the whole length and breadth of the land we should not fiud any work of church restoration which can at all compare with our own cathedral, either as respects its archi- ture, the character of the work that has been done, or the taste in which our cathedral architect has carried it out—(hear, hear,)—and I would add in the very satisfactory manner in which the con- tractor to whom the work has been entrusted has executed his part of the work. (Hear, hear.) Bishop Copleston, in the words I have alluded to, said it was quite necessary that means should be provided for be- ginning the work, and means for carrying on this great work. Two years after these words were spoken there seemed to have been in his mind, a doubt that we had undertaken a work that was too great to be accom- plished, for I find that in 1845—two years after he said that the stones would cry out and the timbers would creak in bearing their testimony against them— that he thought it was too much to hope to restore the whole of the cathedral, but that portion of it which was in use, and which was all that was ever likely to be used that he certainly desired to see properly restored. So that in 1845, two years after he had spoken about the stones crying out and the timbers creaking, Bishop Copleston appeared to have had some misgiving, that though it was not too much to expect to restore the building so as to be used for the future as a parish church, it was too much to expect that the cathedral ever could be restored to its present con- dition. (Hear, hear.) The Dean has said that at no period since the reformation had so much been done- in this diocese in the way of building new churches, in restoring old ones, and in the building of glebe houses, in fact the whole machinery of the church has been remodelled, and its great missionary work on earth ex- tended but the first and proudest of these things in the diocese is the work we have accomplished to-day. But, sir, as it would have been impossible that this work could have been carried on without the assist- ance of friends both in and out of the diocese, it is in respect to this that it is my pleasing duty to propose on this occasion the healths of those kind friends who have so liberally assisted us in this work. Many of those who were present in 1842, when this work was first contemplated, are gone to their rest. Some there are still remaining, and some who were present at the earlier meeting to which I have alluded. It may be that some of those present have had the honour of attending the Lord Mayor in some great civic entertainment, and they will probably remember that it is one part of the ceremony on these occasions for a man with stentorian voice aud powerful lungs to stand behind his lordship's chair, and from a paper which has been placed in his hands, to read aloud the names of all the dignitaries who had honoured his Lordship by their presence. I should have been exceedingly glad if there could have been on this occasion some one who could have given out with a loud voice the names of all those who have so kindly assisted us-, hear, hear)—and to whom we are all so greatly indebted. It would however be a very difficult thing for me, and ,very invidious onealso, were I to endeavour to make any selection from the list. I will therefore only say that we are extremely indebted to them all, and I will^jj(ier entertain the belief and hope that they have i. it for the sake of Him who died for them and fo( the glory of God—(hear, hear,)—and although the> .3 0 pven of their means without any desire of re)ÅR:6 3 aise from us, still it is a duty and a please 3$0 express on be- half of the Dean and Chap 7$5 also on my own behalf, our grateful thanks to evi ? one from whom we have received assistance. With this toast I would couple the name of one of our oldest friends, Mr. Bruce Pryce—(applause)—and also the name of Mr. Clark. (Hear, hear.) Mr. Bruce Pryce twenty years ago would have gladly jumped on his legs, and in a speech full of feeling would have told ua how de- lighted he had been to contribute towards the work but it would be unfair at his time of life to ask Mr* Bruce Pryce to respond, and I therefore connect with the toast the name of Mr. Clark, of Dowlais. (Ap- plause.) The toast was duly acknowledged. Mr. CLARK, in responding, after congratulating Mr. Bruce Pryce that he had arrived at that age when he was free from the task of being called on to respond to toasts on such public occasions, and though his friends might regret it, Mr. Bruce Pryce himself had no reason to do so, for he had arrived at a good old age full of honour, and surrounded by troops of friends and all that could possibly surround old age with enjoyment. Although very proud to be called on to respond to the toast just given, he felt that he ought not to have been the one selected for that task in the presence of the son of the Rev. G. Thomas. But he considered when they looked into the cathedral they might all feel proud that they had assisted in the work. He confessed that at the commencement of the work he felt some doubt whether ever it would be pos- sible to restore the old building, and that anything like so beautiful a fabric as they had that day witnessed could be erected on the old ruins. But these doubts he now admitted were without foundation. Thanks to the successive Deans, thanks to the Lord Bishop, who had thrown himself heart and soul into the work, thanks to their Glamorganshire Architect—(applause)—they bad been able to complete such a noble building. He still observed on the internal wall the marks of the storms that had beaten against them for centuries, and which he remembered so well in the old ruin. Con- sidering what had been done in the past, it filled him with earnest hopes of the future, and those little de- tails that were still required would be ere long com- pleted. In thanking them for the honour they had paid to the contributors towards the restoration, he as- sured them that they had honoured themselves by con- tributing towards the fund. (Hear, hear.) Mr. E. ROMILLY said he had great pleasure at there- quest of the Chairman in proposing the health of the Lord Bishop of the Diocese. (Hear, hear.) Nearly the whole of his life had been spent in a way that cer- tainly militated in some respects with his ability as a public speaker, and they must therefore excuse him for the manner in which he addressed them on that oc- casion. He might, at all events, speak as a witness of the work that had been carried on. A certain portion of the property in this county belonged to his brothers and himself, and he was at one time the manager of that property, and he remembered well, day after day, and year after year, visiting the ancient ruins of Llandaff Cathedral, and if anyone had told him that that beautiful old western window, covered with ivv of centuries' growth, could have been restored "and form part of the beautiful structure they had wit- nessed that day, he should have told them that they were telling him not a fact, but a story from the Arabian Nights Entertainments. He confessed it was a matter of the greatest astonishment to see what had been done in this diocese. It was a matter of con- gratulation, and perhaps he must be allowed to say it was a matter of satisfaction to every churchman, and to those belonging to other Christian denominations, and indeed all persons in the Principality could only be extremely gratified at what had been done at Llan- daff. Of his Lordship above all, or the Dean, who has had so IDuch to do with it from the beginning to the end, it would be unnecessary, it would be impertinent, to speak in praise in the presence of those who knew what was the great work that had been accom- plished by them. He should therefore conclude by proposing the health of the Lord Bishop of Llandaff. (Applause.) The BISHOP of LLANDAFF returned his sincere thanks for the very great compliment they had paid him, not only for the manner in which his name had been proposed, but also for the way in which it had been received. He did from his heart most sincerely thank them for their cordial approval of the toast. With regard to the particular ground on which the High Sheriff had been pleased to compliment him —the connection he had with the restoration of the cathedral—it was certainly true from the fint to the present year he had taken a great interest in it.