his goat skins

but I had better let the author

tell his story in his own way—

The coming of this new inmate was a trial to Bartholomew; he had as yet been uncontrolled in his religious exercises, he had now to consult the comfort of another. It was now to be proved whether he was so wedded to his austerities as not to give up as many of them as were shown to be against the will of God. He began well, for he threw off the hair shirt which he had now worn for five years, because from long usage it had become foul and fetid, and would disgust his companion. An unhappy cause of discussion however occurred, which marred the harmony even of this small society. Thomas could not bear the long fasts to which Bartholomew was accustomed, and Bartholomew would not remain at his meals as long as Thomas wished. The ex-prior, though the brother in every respect gave up to his will, grew angry, and called him a hypocrite. pp. 148, 149.

Which really, I must say, was hardly fair, considering that Bartholomew had relinquished his old friend, the shirt, to please him. But will it not be rather a new idea to most people to be told, that wearing the same shirt for five years till it has become a downright nuisance, is a religious exercise? The heathens had more refined notions. With them a delicious perfume was one of the signs of deity.

"Mansit odor; posses scire fuisse deam.”

It remained for the advocates of "a deeper and more poetical religion," to reckon ill smells and nasty habits among the notes of sanctity, and the heroicities of virtue.

Not that these authors consider nastiness as absolutely conclusive of sanctity. There is a curious passage in the life of St. Walburga, (that legend to which Mr. Newman has thought fit to affix an especial imprimatur,) which looks as if the saints are not the only persons who annoy their neighbours in this. way. On the contrary, they seem to have been sometimes annoyed in a similar manner themselves.

It is said of the holy Sturme, a disciple and companion of Winfrid, that in passing a horde of unconverted Germans as they were bathing and gambolling in a stream, he was so overpowered by the intolerable scent which arose from them, that he nearly fainted away.-St. Walburga, p. 77.

Very remarkable. Yet, if these gambolling Germans had been converted, and become disciples of St. Bartholomew or St. German, it may be doubted whether the case would have been much mended.

CHAPTER XIX.

AQUATIC SAINTS.

BUT all this has led me away from St. German

and his bed of ashes.

The reader may be curious

to know how he slept. This part of the fable, however, assumes rather a serious aspect, as it runs at once into that profaneness of which there is such frequent reason to complain.

His sleep was such as might be expected from these austerities; it was neither long, nor uninterrupted. Frequently after the example of our Lord he would pass the whole night in prayer; and it should seem that these holy vigils had a peculiar efficacy in his case, which manifested itself in the following mornings by miracles and extraordinary deeds. These midnight watchings were divided between the tears and groans of penitence and hymns of praise and intercession. In this manner, says his biographer, as we have before remarked, did the blessed German expiate any past errors into which human infirmity may have led him, and set the example of a sudden and transcendent holiness.-pp. 54, 55.

There are some who seem to think an example is something which nobody is expected to imitate, and thus the laity are fond of calling the clergy "exemplary characters." Really one would have hoped that something of this sort was meant by calling German an 66 example" of "a sudden and transcendent holiness," were it not, perhaps, better, on the whole, that it is otherwise. False doctrine is de

prived of some of its danger when it is made repul- . sive. If people are taught, that they can "expiate" their sins by self-torments and a lingering suicide, it is just as well that they should be recommended also to eat ashes, and lie in dirt, and wear filthy clothes. The nastiness of one part of the prescription may prove an antidote to the poison of the other. Children have been cured of pilfering sweetmeats, by leaving some within their reach seasoned with aloes. Some young persons will, of course, be found to adopt any eccentricity that promises to make them "impressive;" and, now a days, many a one takes up with catholic usages and genuflexions, who but lately would have traded on moustaches or a Byron tie. St. German, however, can never find many imitators. The majority are likely to prefer more gentlemanlike modes of producing an effect; and few of those who are simply enthusiasts, will be found to persevere in following an "example" of "transcendent holiness" of this unclean description. To speak seriously: we may well be thankful that Mr Newman and his party have taken to make their errors ridiculous and disgusting. As long as penance consists in cold water, there may be something in it of romance and poetry. There is nothing poetical in nastiness-there is nothing romantic in an ill smell.

The notions which these writers are propagating regarding austerities are really most extraordinary.

. For example, St. Gundleus, the Welsh hermit, built a church,

and there he began an abstinent and saintly life; his dress a hair cloth; his drink water; his bread of barley mixed with wood ashes. He rose at midnight and plunged into cold water; and by day he laboured for his livelihood. -p. 7.

St. Gundleus seems to have indulged himself in clean water for his drink. Not so St. Guthlake and St. Bettelin, of whom we are told that—

knowing that the kingdom of God is not meat and drink, they lived on barley bread and muddy water, with great abstinence. p. 65.

However, whether it was the food or the drink, was of little moment. The barley bread mixed with ashes was fully as "impressive" as the muddy water; namely, whenever the secret was suffered to escape.

But these are trifling compared with St. Neot's performances, who almost lived in a well that was near his hermitage.

In the monastery of Glastonbury he had learnt the mode of self-discipline by which St. Patrick had attained his saintly eminence, and now in his hermitage he almost rivalled him in austerities. Every morning St. Patrick repeated the Psalter through from end to end, with the hymns and canticles, and two hundred prayers. Every day he celebrated mass, and every hour he drew the holy sign across his breast one hundred times; in the first watch of the night he sung a hundred psalms, and knelt two hundred times upon the ground; and at cockcrow he stood in water, until he said his prayers. Similarly each morn