illustration of the spirit of Mar-Prelacy, one has so continually to notice in the writers of this school.

A bishop of York traversing his huge diocese on foot! Surely this in itself was preaching the gospel. Fasting and footsore, shivering in the winter's cold, yet bathing himself in chilly water when he came to his resting place at night;

which "fasting," "shivering," and "bathing," it is to be supposed, were performed in public; otherwise they could hardly amount to "preaching the gospel;" -but this is a point which will require further notice as we proceed

fainting beneath the sun of midsummer, yet almost grudging to himself the little phial of liquid ;—

"the little phial," as being "in itself" "preaching the gospel," it may be supposed was solemnly carried before Wilfrid by a serving man, or by Eddi the precentor,—

preaching in market-place, or on village green, or some central field amid a cluster of Saxon farms, behold the Bishop of York move about these northern shires. He was not a peer of parliament, he had no fine linen, no purple save at a Lenten mass, no glittering equipage, [surprising! -and in the eighth century, too!] no liveried retainers : [what? not even one to carry the phial,] would it then be possible for those rude men of the north to respect him? Yes; in their rude way: they had faith, and haply they bowed more readily before him in that poor monkish guise than if he had played the palatine amongst them.— Ibid.

Ah, Martin, Martin! thou wilt be at thy old pranks still. For, true it is, the movement did

spring from the Low Church party. And no less true is it, that the majority of its most active adherents have all along been collected from the same quarter. And this, perhaps, may go far to account for the Mar-Prelacy they are so prone to indulge in. Old associations are not easily got rid of. Early obliquities are not easily overcome. They would be churchmen; but, unfortunately, they can scarcely think or speak of a bishop, but, presently, their old propensities will steal upon them. If they could only be induced to try Wilfrid's coldwater regimen for a while, who knows but it might help them to "tame nature" and keep "down evil thoughts"? and by and by, they might even be able to see a real living bishop-to say nothing of the "purple," the "glittering equipage," or the "liveried retainers". without having their natural organs of destructiveness excited. As it is, they furnish a melancholy, but instructive illustration, of the weakness of a theory to overcome the violence of nature. The voice of instinct will make itself heard; the force of pristine habits will break out, and mar the finest flights of high and holy churchmanship; they will be "playing" the Mar-Prelate still. Perfect as the transformation seems, the first mouse that runs across the floor will suffice to revive the forgotten appetite, and remind one, that, after all, the lady,-gentle as she looks,-is only a cat in masquerade. But this, I fear, my reader will consider a digression.

And yet the context is so very characteristic, that it seems better to go on with the quotation here, although it may not seem to bear directly on the point under consideration at present. The mixture of puerility and Romanizing in what follows is not more striking, than that pharisaical spirit of display which one sees here, and all through these Lives of the English Saints. What the man is, is of little importance, unless he is seen. The penitents are, to be sure, most humble and given to concealment at least, they are perpetually telling the public that they are. But, with all this talk of humility and concealment, nothing is more manifest than that they do really mean to be seen-and to allow their austerities to peep out through holes and rents in their humility, so as to be effective, and to produce an impression. Hear this author in a passage already quoted:

A hard life that is the impressive thing, when its secrets escape here and there, at this time and at that time, as they are sure to do, however humble and given to concealment the penitent may be.-St. Wilfrid, p. 207.

Yes; just so. "That is the impressive thing"and, of course, as it is the plain duty of a saint to make an impression, and his "hard life" is, in fact, "preaching the gospel," the penitent must not let his humility and love of concealment go too far; but leave some chinks and crannies in his concealment, -through which the secrets may escape, and the

bystanders and passers-by may peep in, and see his "hard life."

Thus, though these writers tell us that St. Cuthbert's hermitage was so contrived, that he could see nothing but the sky and clouds,-yet they afterwards mention that there was a window in it, through which the hermit might be seen and touched by those without. Of course, the building of this window so very near the ground, and so very convenient for the passers-by to take a peep, was only an accidental oversight-and the humble lover of concealment had no suspicion-not he!that any one was peering in while he was engaged in his self-torments and austerities!*

Thus, too, Wilfrid. An ordinary Christian, indeed, might have found ordinary and unsuspected methods of taming nature and keeping down evil thoughts; and when he fasted, he would most probably recollect that a high authority has commanded us when we fast, not to be like the hypocrites, who disfigure their faces that they may appear unto men to fast, but to anoint the head, and wash the face, that we appear not unto men to fast. But what have ordinary Christians in common with saints, who are a sort of theatrical personages-always speaking and acting for effect, and so as to make an impression? And Wilfrid was a saint, and it was necessary the world should know * St. Edelwald, pp. 49, 52, and 54.

ít; so,—in a delicate sort of a way,—the secret must be suffered to escape, and the "hard life" be guessed and whispered about and talked of. "That is the impressive thing." So he must walk on foot, and footsore, from one end of his diocese to the other. He must have "no glittering equipage;" no coach and four, not even a quiet cabriolet. And then, too, if the weather should be ever so intolerably hot, not one drop must cool his lips, except what was to be got in "the phial." For, no doubt, people heard so everlastingly of this phial, that at last it came to be called "the phial." And one can imagine, how anxiously poor Eddi used to peep into the phial, to see if he could find a last, last drop, and how he would turn it upside down, while Wilfrid was fainting with thirst at some river's side: and then one can fancy, how whole congregations had to be dismissed, because Wilfrid was so parched, and husky, and exhausted, that he really could not preachand the wearisome phial would be empty, just at the critical moment when every body wanted it to be full: and then one can picture to one's self, how grievously disappointed the poor people were who came for miles around to hear him, and how Eddi would comfort the favoured few, and send them home content with a sight of "the phial;"-just like the man that went to hear. Whitfield preach, and returned satisfied; for though he could not get near enough to hear what he said, he saw "his blessed