wig." And then, again, at night, in the depth of winter, the ice in the wells and ponds had to be broken, and the water blessed and turned into holy water; and whole pailfuls had to be taken to his bedchamber, and then such a splashing would be carried on, that folks could not refrain from asking Eddi what all this could mean? And then, of course, the secret would escape, and Eddi could not avoid giving them a hint, that the good bishop was always obliged to perform these shiverings and bathings when going on visitation, just in order to "keep down evil thoughts," and "tame nature," and "intimidate the dark angels." And this was the "impressive thing!"

CHAPTER XVII.

PHARISEEISM-ST. WILFRID ON FOOT, AND ST. WILFRID RIDING.

But I must not forget, that all this time the author is waiting to go on with the next sentence.

Surely if we have half a heart we can put before our eyes as if it were a reality, Wilfrid on foot, Wilfrid preaching, Wilfrid confirming, Wilfrid sitting on a wrought stone watching his comentarii, as Dante sat upon his stone and watched the superb duomo of Florence rise like an enchanted thing; [or as people now-a-days watch the building of the new houses of Parliament;] Wilfrid listening to a new and awkward choir trying the Gregorian tones and keeping his patience even when Eddi and Eona lost theirs, Wilfrid marching at the head of his clergy up the new aisles of Ripon, Wilfrid receiving the confession of St. Etheldreda, and what was THE FOUNTAIN OF ALL, Wilfrid kneeling with the pope's hands resting on his head and the archdeacon Boniface standing by.-pp. 65, 66.

No doubt of it. This was "the fountain of all:"at least, if we are not convinced of it yet, Mr. Newman and his friends are not to blame. They have done what they can.

But as to their notion of a saint;-it is quite plain that these people imagine themselves of so much importance, that they think of little else, and really seem to believe that other people have nothing better to employ their minds. Nothing but Wilfrid here and Wilfrid there. And yet these men talk of their humility. And in this way Dr. Pusey,-in

the preface to one of the works he is editing just now, as his share in the process of Romanizing England, holds up as models of humility the example of St. Dominic, "who ever prayed that his sins might not bring the vengeance of God on the towns where he preached;" and St. Catherine of Sienna, who thought "all the chastisements of divine justice, which desolated the provinces in her time, to be the miserable effects of her unfaithfulAs if such ideas could ever find entertainment in the mind of any mortal, that was not puffed up with, conceit and self-importance.

ness.

Even Wilfrid's going on foot was theatrical; it was for an effect; it was part of the "hard life," and "that is the impressive thing."-For, surely, with such an enormous diocese to look after, this peripatetic fancy must have caused great delay, and waste of time, and useless expenditure of strength.-And then, possibly, Eddi would sometimes venture to recommend a horse; and folks would say to Eddi, "Good gracious, how fond the bishop is of walking!" And so, the "secret" would escape, that this walking system was part of Wilfrid's plan for taming nature and keeping down evil thoughts. In the end, however, Wilfrid did get a horse. The reader shall see in what way. The author proceeds—

But we must think of another thing also,-Wilfrid riding, riding up and down his diocese; for this walking *Surin, Preface, p. xix.

of Wilfrid's did not quite please St. Theodore; not that it was too simple, but that it was too austere, and the life of such a man needed husbanding for the church's sake. Would that St. Theodore had always thought so! But he was a simple man as well as a wise one, and he too, strange that it should be so, mistook Wilfrid, knew not what he was, and so lost him for a while.-Ibid.

Strange"-Why "strange?" Is it not obvious from this history, that St. Wilfrid was all his life quarrelling with all the canonized saints of his acquaintance? In one council this author reckons up five, all "enemies;" and sums up his account of the matter by saying

by whose helpful intercession may we be aided now in the forlornness of our fight!-p. 179.

Forlorn, indeed! if we are reduced to the necessity of applying for such assistance. But to proceed with St. Theodore.

However, at this time he thought nothing but what was true and good of Wilfrid, and he insisted-for he was archbishop of Canterbury-that his brother of York, who was but a bishop then, should have a horse to ride on during his longer journeys and more distant visitations. He knew this luxury pained Wilfrid; [i. e., Wilfrid lost some degree of celebrity and impressiveness by being mounted; and impressiveness was, of course, the principal end of his "hard life,"] so he made it up to him in the best way he could, for, to show his veneration for the saint, he insisted upon lifting him upon horseback whenever he was near him to do so.-Ibid.

From which we may gather, that St. Theodore was the stouter of the two. The author, however,

seems to wish, that this proceeding of Theodore had been established as a precedent:

It would have been well for England if archbishops of Canterbury had always been of such a mind towards those who filled the throne of York. However we now behold Wilfrid making his visitation on horseback; for obedience is a greater thing to a saint than even his much-loved austerities. Ibid.

One would be thankful to see some proofs of it.

Taking a hardship away from a saint is like depriving a mother of one of her children, [or a pharisee of his phylacteries,] yet for holy obedience' sake, or the edification of a neighbour, a saint will postpone even a hardship. -pp. 66, 67.

And then he goes on to tell how Wilfrid rode along on his new horse;

A word here and a word there, a benediction and a prayer, the signed cross and the holy look, a confession heard, and a mass said, and a sermon preached, and that endless accompaniment of Gregorian tones; verily the gospel went out from him as he rode.-Ibid.

There is something in the style and wording of these passages so infinitely burlesque and preposterous, that really if I did not know them to have been actually and honestly extracted from Mr. Newman's Lives of the English Saints, I should have thought it wholly incredible that they could have been written except for the purpose of turning his system into ridicule. Yet, amidst all this wretched childishness, there is a method, a purpose, a deep design to Romanize the church, and by these picturesque descriptions, to recommend a miserable