i^^i
 
 Y y-
 
 ODDS AND ENDS
 
 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCIS PIGOU, D.D. 
 
 Dean of Bristol 
 For some litne one of Her laie Majesty^ s Chaplains 
 
 AUTHOR OF ' PHASES OF MY LIFE,' ' MANUAL OF CONFIRMATION, 
 
 'ADDRESSES AT HOLY COMMUNION,' 'ADDRESSES TO MY 
 
 DISTRICT VISITORS AND SUNDAY-SCHOOLTEACHERS,' 
 
 'ADDRESSES TO CLERGY,' ETC. 
 
 FOURTH IMPRESSION 
 
 LONDON 
 
 EDWARD ARNOLD 
 
 1903
 
 TO 
 
 MY DEAR WIFE, 
 
 WHO FOR thirty-threp: years has devotedly 
 
 HELPED ME IN MY VARIED WORK, THIS 
 
 VOLUME OF ' ODDS AND ENDS ' IS 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 The favourable reception which ' Phases of My Life ' 
 has met with must be my excuse for writing another 
 volume, entitled ' Odds and Ends' Should the reader 
 of ' Odds and Ends ' detect any repetitions, which, 
 so far as I know, I have endeavoured to avoid, I crave 
 his indulgence. In ' Phases of My Life' I give some 
 ' variations ' of my surname by which I have from 
 time to time been addressed, both verbally and by 
 letter : Pigue, Peikew, Bigout, Peggue, Ligou, 
 Picue, Pigoe, Puegou, Pico, Puggie, Pagan, Pickles. 
 To these must now be added : Mr. VVigon (?), Pigoo, 
 Pigun, Pugon, Pigwu, Pignou, Viego, and ' the Very 
 of Rev. Piggon.' These strike me as very ingenious. 
 Whether they have been written, as the Irishman said, 
 'accidentally of purpose,' I know not. Any letter 
 addressed to me by any one of these ' variations ' is 
 likely to reach me, but I take this opportunity of say- 
 ing that I much prefer the original. 
 
 Francis Pigou. 
 The Deanery, 
 
 Bristol, 
 1903.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER ,.AGE 
 
 I. INTRODUCTORY - - - . . I 
 
 II. BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE - - -2^ 
 
 IIL SUNDAY-SCHOOLS - - - - - -64 
 
 IV, PREACHING AND PREACHERS - - - "97 
 
 V. PAROCHIAL 'missions' AND MISSIONERS - - - 164 
 
 VI. CATHEDRALS AND CATHEDRAL LIFE - - . 202 
 
 VII. A PROBLEM IN MORALS — THE RELATION OF DISEASE TO 
 
 CRIME ---... 270 
 
 VIII. CLUB LIFE ...... 295 
 
 IX. ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET, AND ODD DOINGS AND 
 
 SAYINGS ------ 223
 
 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 \./J INTRODUCTORY 
 
 ' Gentle Reader !' I am at a loss, however, to under- 
 stand why readers of books should be addressed as 
 'gentle.' Why should not 'reader' suffice? I am 
 not writing a Preface. Few people read a Preface. 
 I have heard that a Preface has been read when the 
 reader has reached ' Finis,' which is hardly the object 
 of a Preface. Very few out of the 20,000 Clergy — 
 whose names and life-record appear in the increasingly 
 bulky volume of Crockford's ' Clerical Directory ' — 
 perused the interesting and sometimes caustic Prefaces 
 by the late Editor, Rev. J. S. Sidebotham. Not 
 infrequently you find the leaves of a Preface uncut. 
 This reminds me that you should always take the 
 precaution of cutting the leaves of a book which has 
 been presented to you by its author. A friend of 
 mine, the late Sir Kingston James, wrote a translation 
 of Tasso's 'Jerusalem Delivered.' He was not only 
 in the habit of presenting copies, but of quoting 
 passages from it in conversation with those to whom 
 he had presented a copy. Calling on a lady who 
 had been a recipient of his gift, he referred to it. 
 
 I
 
 2 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 His memory failing him in his endeavour to quote 
 some lines, he said : ' Would you mind referring to 
 the copy I gave you ?' She disappeared from the room 
 to fetch said copy. Her disappearance was inordi- 
 nately long. She was hurriedly cutting the leaves 
 for the first time ! 
 
 Well, 'Gende Reader,' four years have elapsed since 
 I wrote ' Phases of My Life.' It cannot, I venture to 
 think, be said that I am afflicted with a disease or 
 malady known in the world of letters as cacoethes 
 scribendi. There are different forms of this malady. 
 I notice that Ping-Pong is to be introduced, at some 
 Workhouse, into the Ward set apart for Imbeciles. 
 There is cacoethes loqtiendi. The wife of a Member of 
 Parliament, known for his resdessness and loquacious- 
 ness, was very much alarmed on being told that her 
 husband was suffering from the ' foot-and-mouth 
 disease,' which hitherto she had regarded as stricdy 
 confined to ' beasts of the field.' Apropos to the ' foot- 
 and mouth-disease,' it was said of someone that ' he 
 could never open his mouth to speak without putting 
 his foot in it.' Ping-Pong has its peculiar disease ; 
 medical men give it the imposing name of ' Teno- 
 synovitis !' Cyclists are liable to an alarming malady. 
 Dining with cyclists at their club dinner, I took 
 occasion to warn them against incurring kyphosis ! 
 Alas ! for the uninitiated. The Layicet says that 
 tetrahydromethyloxichinoline will cure cancer, inasmuch 
 as the microbes, seeing that name on the bottle, will 
 be frightened to death ! Is not the Lancet right } 
 
 I find that the meaning of cacoethes is variously given 
 in Lexicons. One interpretation is ' the inveteracy of 
 an evil habit'; another, ' an obstinate disease'; ' an itch
 
 INTRODUCTORY 3 
 
 or incurable passion.' Scribendi, ' an incurable itch 
 to write.' This is not refined, but it is very strong 
 language : ' An incurable itch to write !' It is given 
 to few to rest content with the laurels a single 
 book, oratorio, picture, or poem has won for them. 
 Success tempts, lures, invites to some further success, 
 for 'there is nothing succeeds like success.' If a 
 book, for instance, has met with favour, it is only 
 natural that an author should make a second venture, 
 and that a Publisher should even encourage him to 
 make it. It may be open to question whether or not 
 a second book, be it a work of Fact or Fiction, is in 
 every case equal to the first. The first is the creme de 
 la creme of a man's thought or experience, the second 
 is skimmed milk. However generally true this may 
 be, there are, of course, exceptions. But there are 
 writers who are so sore afflicted with this ' incurable 
 itch to write ' that, indifferent to public criticism, 
 regardless of broad hints that their reputation is at 
 stake, they manifest ' the inveteracy of evil habits.' 
 The verdict of the reading world is, ' they are over- 
 writing themselves, and they reach the bathos of a 
 small volume of very thick paper, very large type, and 
 not a little judicious and well-distributed 'padding.' 
 This was the fate of one long since passed away, 
 whose writings were at one time largely read, and 
 whose reputation was murdered by his Publisher 
 saying to him of impoverished brain and exhausted 
 experience : ' Now, sir, let me have another book.' 
 
 Certain 'literary organs' — e.g., the Spectator, 
 Saturday Review, and many more of [; that type — 
 exercise a healthy and restraining influence in saving 
 the world from the infection of this peculiar microbe, 
 
 I — 2
 
 4 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 * the itch to write.' Reviews take the place, in a form 
 less blunt and outspoken, of such sayings as those with 
 which Dr. Abernethy and Dr. Johnson are both 
 credited. A patient consulting the former said : ' I 
 find, Dr. Abernethy, that whenever' — suiting the 
 action to the word — ' I move my arm it gives me 
 violent pain.' To which Abernethy replied : ' Then 
 why on earth. Sir, are you such a fool as to move your 
 arm ?' A lady who was suffering from this cacoethes 
 scribendi called on Dr. Johnson, and, asking his 
 opinion on her latest work, said : ' You see. Dr. John- 
 son, I like to have many irons in the fire.' Dr. 
 Johnson, with characteristic bluntness and with no 
 little pomposity, replied : ' Madam, I strongly recom- 
 mend you to put this pamphlet where the irons are.' 
 We may charitably hope that the author did not see 
 the double entendre of his friend to whom he sent his 
 latest work, and who, in acknowledging it, wrote : 
 ' Thank you so very much for the book you have so 
 kindly sent me. I promise you I will lose no time in 
 reading it.' 
 
 If people have read a particular book, and it has 
 been of interest or amusement, if it has informed the 
 mind, beguiled a weary hour after a day's hard 
 brain-work, or if it has found its way into a sick-room, 
 it is not unnatural that they should express a wish 
 similar to that expressed by the chairman of our local 
 
 * lending library.' Alluding to the popular book of the 
 year, he called attention to the fact that the Dean of 
 Bristol's ' Phases of My Life ' stood at the head of the 
 list, and he expressed the hope that the success it had 
 met with would lead to a further volume! Such a 
 wish from the chairman of a large circulating library
 
 INTRODUCTORY 5 
 
 is almost a ' command,' and to a certain extent justifies 
 acting upon it. The author is not forcing himself on 
 an unwilling public, especially if he has not committed 
 himself to a ' positively last appearance,' but he is 
 encouraged to write when he hears, as I thankfully do, 
 that ' Phases of My Life ' has brought a ray of sun- 
 shine into many a sick-room, and into not a few lonely 
 lives. 
 
 I cannot say that my Publisher, Mr. Arnold, has 
 put pressure upon me, or tempted me by overpersua- 
 sion into deeper depths of ' the inveteracy to evil 
 habits,' but he has again undertaken to act as sponsor 
 to my ' Odds and Ends,' only stipulating that this 
 volume will be no repetition of ' Phases of My Life,' 
 and that it shall be of equal length. These are not 
 onerous conditions for a Publisher to impose who 
 bears all risks, nor for me to agree to. 
 
 I recall an interview with Mr. Arnold after ' Phases 
 of My Life ' had reached its second edition. I see 
 him fondling the book as you would fondle a second 
 child. I hear him saying : ' This is what Publishers 
 like to see.' I replied : 'This is what authors like to 
 see.' There was a mutual understanding similar to 
 what occurred to me on one occasion when I was 
 preaching before our late beloved Queen at Windsor. 
 Everyone who has had that privilege will allow that it 
 was somewhat of an ordeal. You could not altosfether 
 dispossess your mind of the presence of the Sovereign. 
 You were limited to time as you are not in your own 
 church. The surroundings were as unique as they 
 were full of restraint. The music was limited to two 
 or three hymns, so that the organist — I think it was 
 Mr. Cummings — had but little opportunity for exhibit/. - /
 
 6 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 ing his skill and ' cunning ' on a very small organ with 
 not many ' manuals, pedals, and stops.' After service 
 he said to me : 'How do you, sir, like preaching 
 before Her Majesty?' My reply was : 'How do you, 
 sir, like playing before Her Majesty?' We said no 
 more, but I inferred from this brief conversation that 
 there was a 'mutual understanding.' So between 
 Mr. Arnold and myself. We can understand why 
 Author and Publisher shake hands over a second 
 edition, or, as the 'new style' puts it, 'Impression.' 
 The anxieties of a Publisher who publishes at his own 
 risk, unshared by the author, are laid to rest. The 
 book, whatever may be its subject, has passed through 
 the crucible of reviewers, probably in every case 
 bettered and purified by the process of criticism. I do 
 not sympathize with a well-known authoress, whose 
 writings command a large circulation, in her utter 
 indifference to Critics and Reviewers. She sets them 
 at defiance, and practically ignores them. As a -rule 
 Reviewers are men and women of culture, intelli- 
 gence, wide reading, and familiar with literature. Much, 
 also, though not everything, is in their power to 
 insure the life or death of a book. I am aware that it 
 has been said that a book has the best chance which has 
 been unmercifully abused, run down, and 'shamefully 
 treated.' This may or may not be, but the verdict 
 of public opinion is not generally wrong. If a book 
 has behaved itself well on its trial trip it may be 
 regarded safe for another cruise. If Author and 
 Publisher find tranquillity of mind in a Second Edition, 
 their satisfaction must be proportionately increased 
 when the book reaches a Sixth Edition of its more 
 expensive ' Impression,' and gives birth to the cheap
 
 INTRODUCTORY 7 
 
 and Popular Edition. It maybe to 'climb down' when 
 a book published at sixteen shillings figures in Mudie's 
 list of Books on sale at three or four. I think mine is 
 priced one shilling higher than that of my valued 
 friend Dean Hole. What a glorious triumph ! But 
 even this shows, not so much that the book itself is 
 intrinsically of less value, but that by its distribution 
 through a Circulating Library it has been * well 
 thumbed,' and opportunity is given to readers to 
 possess it at a moderate cost. 
 
 I have been much interested in, amused, and, I hope, 
 have profited by, the reviews of my ' Phases,' of which 
 I have a very large number, as also of letters from 
 correspondents far and wide. I subscribed, as many 
 others do, as Publishers themselves do, to one or more 
 Scissors Papers, which, in consideration of a very 
 reasonable sum, send you ' cuttings.' These are sent 
 with the utmost impartiality. Your £2 2s. includes 
 praise and censure, approval or disapproval gleaned 
 from different sources. Who would have it otherwise ? 
 
 For surely it is true still, ' Woe unto thee when 
 everyone speaks well of thee.' It has been said that 
 everyone should have three companions or friends, 
 one above him, one his equal, one beneath him. If 
 we sometimes wish that ' Save me from my friends ' 
 could be inserted in the Litany, I am not sure that a 
 man is not safer and perhaps better for having some- 
 one who really dislikes him, who for some reason or 
 other has conceived a strong prejudice against him, and, 
 in common parlance ' never has a good word for him.' 
 I think I should prefer such a one, of whose enmity 
 you are perfectly aware, than a Judas with his kiss of 
 betrayal. You know where you are with the former ;
 
 8 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 you do not with the latter. You know what to expect 
 from the one ; you are not prepared for the painful 
 surprises of the other. The Reviews of ' Phases of my 
 Life ' brought out this, that there are somewhere one 
 or two persons who cordially and heartily dislike me. 
 There are not many such, I hope, because I am not 
 aware ' of occasion given.' But one would be enough 
 to prevent ' all speaking well of thee.' It is a little bit 
 of grit in the wheels of life. I honestly and truly do 
 not know whether to be more grateful to the kind or 
 to the unkind reviewer — Fas est ab hoste doceri. Both 
 have, I feel, done me much good. 
 
 But all this, and not little reading and not reading 
 Books because of Reviews, leads me to ask, apart 
 from any personal view of the question, ' Is any Review 
 absolutely unbiassed and unprejudiced ? Can it be 
 "pure as driven snow"?' I doubt that, in the nature 
 of things, it can be. Would it be possible, e.g., for 
 the Church Times to give an unbiassed, unprejudiced 
 review of the late Bishop Ryle's writings ? Would 
 it be possible for the Rock, Record, or English Church- 
 man to give an unbiassed, unprejudiced review of the 
 writings of Pusey and Keble ? Is not party spirit, 
 ' school of thought,' bound to assert and betray itself 
 in accordance with the views which the Reviewer him- 
 self entertains ? The ^Reviewer will review from his 
 own standpoint if it be a subject with which he is 
 familiar and has made his own. His Review cannot 
 but be in accordance with his personal predilection. So 
 that we must take Reviews at their proper value, and 
 not leave out of sight what, in no invidious sense, we 
 may call ' animus.' If a review, written anonymously, 
 is an opportunity for a personal friend to express in
 
 INTRODUCTORY 9 
 
 a kindly spirit his opinion, so that even ' faithful 
 are the wounds of a friend,' what a golden oppor- 
 tunity it is for one not well affected towards you to 
 dip his pen in gall, to represent your book as puerile, 
 unworthy of writer and theme, full of exaggeration, 
 replete with stories absolutely incredible ! The oppor- 
 tunity of personal animus, of which I never availed 
 myself, presented itself to my own mind when, through 
 the kind offices of my cousin. Professor Goldwin Smith, 
 I received an offer, now many years ago, from Mr. 
 Cook, the then editor of the Saturday Review, to be one 
 of their staff. If I have to acknowledge with very heart- 
 felt gratitude the most kind reviews which contributed 
 so largely to the wide circulation of ' Phases of My 
 Life,' and for that kindly criticism by which many 
 mistakes were corrected, errors in fact, date, and 
 grammar purged away, I have also to thank the 
 one or two who, while not hindering the sale, have 
 also helped in a less friendly fashion to make the 
 latest ' impression ' less open to criticism. 
 
 It is extremely difficult to write a book of ' Remin- 
 iscences,' which have necessarily and inevitably to do 
 with persons and places. You have to avoid ' per- 
 sonalities,' though you write about persons, and to 
 suppress, in not a few instances, certain names in 
 connection with anecdotes, which, if published, would 
 give much more point to the anecdote itself, but at 
 the risk of 'giving offence,' even when such an 
 intention was far from your mind. We have all 
 read ' Biographies,' ' Memoirs,' ' Recollections,' some 
 pleasant, some unpleasant reading. The tone is 
 not healthy. Faults have been exposed, infirmities 
 enlarged upon, certain traits of character made
 
 lO 
 
 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 known, which it was neither kind nor necessary to 
 make matter of public notoriety, especially in their 
 case who have departed hence. The rule de mortuis 
 nil nisi bouum has not been observed. And yet who 
 is free from fault or infirmity? Out of all the letters 
 I have received, there were only two which I felt it 
 right to notice — one in which I was accused of inven- 
 tion, fabrication, and so forth, the other of gross 
 exaggeration. Two serious charges ! The first was 
 from an ex - Mayoress, who indignantly repudiated 
 having been called up at midnight to test ' lampreys ' 
 on her tom cat, and by this crucial test to decide if I 
 was right in thinking these ' lampreys ' were slugs or 
 leeches. I at no time — for I abstained from giving 
 any name in connection with that story — had her in 
 my mind, for she was not Mayoress at that particular 
 Mayor's banquet. I was very glad to hear that my 
 assurances have quite restored to me what I should 
 not wish to have forfeited in her kind regard for me. 
 The other letter was charging me with exaggeration, 
 etc., etc., in writing my experience as a boarder at the 
 Ripon Grammar School. ,That this should have 
 caused pain to anyone connected by relationship with 
 the master in whose house I boarded is, of course, to 
 be regretted, but everything I said was literally and 
 absolutely h'lie ; I suppressed more I might have told. 
 Had this irate correspondent known me better, 
 he would have known that I am singularly lacking 
 in the power of ' invention.' Notwithstanding the 
 entreaties of my two dear daughters, when little 
 children — ' Papa, do tell us a story !' — the only 
 one I told was so utterly devoid of interest, being 
 neither fact nor fiction, that whenever I begun it my
 
 INTRODUCTORY ii 
 
 children always said : * Oh, Papa, we have heard 
 that before ; can you not tell us another ?' So far as I 
 can remember, the heroine of this particular story was 
 a little girl constantly bursting into tears, * giving way 
 to grief on the slightest and apparently utterly incon- 
 ceivable provocation. I never can see the ' plot ' in a 
 play until it reaches its ddnouement . I need someone 
 by me to explain what relation one ' Act ' has to the 
 other. I lose at once all interest in a novel which of a 
 sudden introduces a new set of characters, and just as 
 I am getting interested in it transports me to other 
 and far-off scenes. I do not think I exaa-aerate. We 
 all know how a story gi'ows as it is variously told. 
 
 I take this opportunity here of deliberately accusing 
 and charging one of my dearest friends, Dean Hole, 
 with 'great exaggeration'! He delights in telling a 
 select circle of friends this story of me, with some 
 foundation in it, and in his hands with not a little 
 superstructure : Some years ago when I was holiday- 
 ing, as I have for many years done, at Whitby, a 
 neighbouring clergyman, Vicar of Grosmont, asked me 
 to spend an afternoon quietly with him. He said he 
 would invite one or two neighbouring clergymen to 
 meet me at five-o'clock tea. I made no note at the 
 time of my promise to come, and arranged for a picnic 
 at Goatland or Cockmill. Dean Hole was one of the 
 party. We filled to its utmost capacity a third-class 
 carriage. The train stopped at Grosmont, where the 
 Vicar was awaiting my arrival. Quite forgetful of his 
 invitation, I greeted him cordially, and said : ' I am so 
 delighted to see you ! Step quickly into our carriage. 
 We will make room for you. Come and join us in our 
 picnic' I thought he looked dazed, and that he was
 
 12 
 
 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 slow in responding. The train moved on without 
 him. This is the simple story, free from exaggera- 
 tion ! The first time I heard Dean Hole tell it, the 
 version was that a few clergy had been invited to a 
 simple meal at a Yorkshire vicarage. The next time 
 I heard it, the ' amended version ' was that everybody 
 for miles round—' all the hillside,' in fact — had been 
 invited to meet me— clergy, and all available gentry — 
 at a sumptuous banquet sent down expressly by Gunter, 
 Hungarian bands engaged at great expense ; and the 
 Vicar, from at first looking a little distrait, was repre- 
 sented as never since having recovered his reason ! 
 This is a fine specimen of the powers of ' invention ' 
 and the unlimited range of exaggeration, is it not ? 
 
 But en passant how can I recall dear Whitby, apart 
 from the Mission, Bible Readings, and Children's 
 Services I held and conducted there in years gone by, 
 without recalling the pleasant hours spent in company 
 with Dean Hole and his 'sweet rose,' to whom he dedi- 
 cated his charming book on Roses. I never pass down 
 John Street without recalling a very memorable occa- 
 sion in which he took part. There used to be — I 
 noticed two years ago that it has disappeared — a small 
 ' bric-a-brac ' shop for the sale of ' Odds and Ends.' 
 In the window-front, attracting attention, was a truly 
 awful daub, supposed to represent the ' Death of 
 Wolfe.' I have the picture in the Deanery, and when- 
 ever Hole comes it is put at the foot of his bed. 
 Wolfe is supported in his dying agonies by two giants 
 in the uniform of the German Emperor's elite Prussian 
 Guards. Someone — I imagine a surgeon — is dabbing a 
 very large bath sponge in Wolfe's eyes. Two others, 
 of the race of Anak, are looking on with sympathetic
 
 INTRODUCTORY 13 
 
 interest ; the whole horizon is black with smoke pro- 
 ceeding from tivo muskets. Hole said to me : ' Pigou, 
 let us go in and buy that picture.' We examined it 
 critically. ' Who do you think,' said Hole, * painted 
 it }' I replied : ' I think I detect Rubens in the 
 general pose.' ' Do you not trace the hand of Murillo,' 
 said Hole, ' in that surgeon and his sponge T Pursu- 
 ing our criticism, I said : ' That nose is undoubtedly 
 Rembrandt's work.' 'These giants,' said Hole, 'must 
 have been painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds.' The 
 woman who kept the shop stood by deeply interested, 
 I might almost say aived. ' What do you want,' we 
 said, ' for this picture .'*' ' Well, gen'lemen,' she 
 replied, ' I have marked it one shilling, but after what 
 you gen'lemen have said, and I take yer to be what 
 they call con^iosours^ I shall ask five shillings.' She 
 had added a shilling for every fresh artist named as 
 having a hand in its production. We both felt very, 
 very foolish. But how could we retire from our 
 position ? How disavow our new-born reputation as 
 ' connosours ' } Hole paid the five shillings, and 
 bestowed this work of art on me, having previously 
 dramatized it in his own lodCTino-s. - 1 witnessed the 
 play. Hole was supported in a chair by his tall son, 
 Mrs. Hole dabbed his eyes with a bath sponge. 
 
 But this is not all. Two years afterwards I was at 
 Whitby, lodging in the same street. Seeing me pass 
 the window, the woman in the shop hung up ' The 
 Death of Nelson,' in the hope that she would receive 
 another five shillings. But who so wary as they who 
 have been once snared ? For two or three days I 
 passed it without even deigning to look at it. Some- 
 how or other, if anything, even if you do not want it,
 
 14 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 be pressed perseveringly on your notice, you feel 
 almost compelled to purchase it ! This may be true 
 in some cases of 'Carter's Little Liver Pills,' or of 
 ' Beecham's,' ' worth a guinea a box.' I sauntered into 
 the shop. ' I saw you pass by,' said the shopkeeper, 
 ' and thought you might like a companion picture to 
 what you bought two years ago.' Mindful of that 
 experience, I at once blasted the woman's hopes by 
 saying : ' Oh, this is certainly not a work of Art.' I 
 pointed out to her in detail why it could not be so 
 reoarded by a connoisseur, why it would not be 
 ' hung ' on the walls of the Academy, or even be in a 
 collection of, as they were once called, 'articles of 
 virtue and bigotry.' In the first place, Nelson is not 
 represented in the cockpit of the Victory breathing his 
 last in the arms of Hardy, but he is breathing his last 
 standing, supported by two sons of Anak in Naval 
 uniform, his arms about their necks. Though there 
 ought to have been three pairs of legs, the legs of 
 Nelson and his supporters are so intertwined that you 
 cannot make out more than four distributed amongst 
 three persons. The uniform is a blue silk doublet, 
 cocked hat, and trousers with very tight straps. For this 
 ' work of art ' I offered a shilling, which was promptly 
 accepted. I bethought myself that I would send it to 
 Hole as a souvenir of Whitby. I packed it with cotton- 
 wool in a Colman's Mustard box ; I enveloped it in some 
 half-dozen brown-paper wrappings. I sent it to the 
 Vicarage, Caunton Manor, and, little thinking of the 
 result, I put outside, ' Work of Art ; with the utmost 
 care! The parcel duly arrived, accompanied by 
 a letter from the Station-master at Newark to the 
 effect that a ' Work of Art ' addressed to Hole was at
 
 INTRODUCTORY 15 
 
 the Station, and that the Company hoped he would 
 send for it as soon as possible, as they did not like to 
 have the responsibility of 'Works of Art.' It was a 
 pouring wet morning, one that would make you think 
 more than twice whether you would go out or take 
 your carriage. But the letter was urgent. It was 
 suggested at the breakfast-table that possibly it might 
 be a present from some grateful hearer. The distance 
 from Caunton Manor is about five or six miles. 
 Arriving at the Station and asking for the * Work of 
 Art,' it was found that it had been slightly damaged in 
 the transit. Hole insisted on the Station-master, Ticket 
 Collector, and every available Porter being present, so 
 that, in the event of the ' Work of Art ' being seriously 
 damaged, he might claim damages from the Company. 
 Slowly and carefully wrappers were undone and strings 
 cut. As each wrapper was undone, only for another 
 to appear, it became increasingly evident that it must 
 be a very precious work of Art. At last the Colman's 
 Mustard box was reached. As the lid was opened 
 and cotton-wool removed, 'The Death of Nelson' burst 
 into view. The Station-master, Collector, Porters, 
 were all craning their necks to catch a glimpse of this 
 precious treasure. Hole, in writing to me, said it 
 would have been described by an Eton boy as 
 ' golumptious.' He did his utmost to conceal this 
 treasure from the view of the curious and drove home 
 with it, I say not in what mood, I have reason to 
 believe it is still in the possession of the family. 
 
 This, like one or more anecdotes, may be told in 
 ' Reminiscences ' without, I think, anyone taking 
 umbrage. This sort of Reminiscence is not unkind, 
 does not belittle or expose to ridicule or contempt, as
 
 i6 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 do some Biographies or ' Memoirs.' It is Frederick 
 Robertson who so truly says a lens is in itself made of 
 certain costless materials. Its value lies in the cost at 
 which it is produced, requiring so much skill and care. 
 A slight scratch or flaw on its surface suffices to damage 
 it. So, making uncharitable remarks, may we not 
 damage a character or reputation it has taken years 
 to build up ? 
 
 I have, of course, as everyone who has lived much 
 in the world has, come across bad specimens of men 
 and women. I have seen the ' seamy side ' of life 
 outside prisons, penitentiaries, slums. If I cared to 
 lift the veil I could tell of people moving in upper 
 circles of life, wicked, deceitful, contemptible, vindic- 
 tive, capable of action ' contrary,' indeed, to their 
 Christian profession, and where, if anywhere, it might 
 be assumed that education, culture, position, would 
 make such ways and doings impossible. I might, 
 indeed, expose and hold up to merited scorn of what 
 'jealousy, cruel as the grave,' is capable under 'the 
 guise of friendship ; of things mean and underhand ; 
 of falsehoods as deliberate as they are malicious ; of 
 wilful misrepresentation, fo^ which there is no remedy 
 but patience and ' living it down.' For my part, I 
 believe that in all walks of life, fashionable, profes- 
 sional, clerical, no evil is so corrosive, subtle, difficult 
 to deal with, ^.s jealousy. There is nothing to which 
 it will not stoop. It sees everything in a distorted 
 light, and through the coloured spectacles of envy. 
 The jealous are afflicted with a mental 'squint.' It is 
 more than pitiful, because it is harmful as well. It 
 is worst of all in a Minister of Christ, who, theoreti- 
 cally, should not ' look every man on his own, but also
 
 INTRODUCTORY 17 
 
 on the thino-s of others.' But what would be o^ained 
 were I to lift the veil and expose the malignant sores 
 and cancers of the outwardly polished and cultured 
 life ? In the majority of cases you would only be 
 credited with smarting under what it is always better 
 to ignore. If a preacher dwell on the bad tongue — 
 generally symptomatic of the bad heart — most of his 
 hearers say : ' Depend upon it, someone has been 
 saying unkind things of him.' Surely it is better to 
 look for the soft spot that exists somewhere in every 
 heart, to credit people with good rather than with evil. 
 There is so much kindness, goodwill, ever-ready 
 sympathy in the world that, though you cannot be 
 entirely oblivious of the less happy aspect of human 
 life, it all goes far to help you to overlook it. How 
 much better, as writer or reviewer, to dip his pen less 
 in an ink made up of envy, deceit, malice, than in the 
 milk of human kindness ; to be inoculated with the 
 lymph of charity rather than with what is blood- 
 poisoning and injurious ! 
 
 It were, indeed, an ideal world in which wheat and 
 tares had ceased to grow together ; in which no 
 bad but only good specimens of men and women are 
 to be found ; but if we cannot speak well we are not 
 bound of necessity to speak ill. There is much in 
 these lines, which I have often written in Bible or 
 Prayer- Book of newly-married : 
 
 ' The kindest and the happiest pair 
 May find occasion to forbear, 
 And something, every day they Hve, 
 To pity and perhaps forgive !' 
 
 Acting on this, I kept before me in ' Phases of My 
 Life ' what I purpose keeping before me in this book 
 
 2
 
 i8 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 the brighter and sunnier view of life. In preaching 
 
 I prefer to endeavour to find out the ' soft spot ' in the 
 hearer's heart, and, under God, to bring to the front 
 what is best rather than worst in men. Probably life 
 is more full of tragedy than of comedy, but the 
 tragic and the comic are strangely intermingled, as 
 pleasure can quickly pass into pain. Everyone must 
 have observed the extraordinary, almost unaccountable, 
 perhaps hysterical inclination to laugh when something 
 sad or tragic is told. We may even go so far as to 
 say that, with some exceptions, for one who has a sense 
 of humour, few subjects or incidents have not their 
 ' humorous side.' 
 
 As an illustration of what I have said and of the 
 mistake of thinking that ' grave and gay ' cannot live 
 together in one and the same man, all who had the 
 privilege of knowing the late Bishop of Wakefield 
 know how keen was his sense of humour. I 
 knew him as a personal friend of long standing 
 and later on as our Diocesan when I was Vicar 
 of Halifax. I can recall few men who had such 
 a rdpertoire of good original stories. He was the 
 very life and soul of a 'dinner-party, and has often 
 kept the delighted company in ' roars of laughter.' I 
 hear him now telling stories with that ' twinkle ' in his 
 eye which betrayed his sense of humour. In the 
 recently published' ' Memoirs' of Bishop Walsham 
 How this 'lighter side' of his character is studiously 
 eliminated instead of being naturally intermingled 
 with it. A separate volume is published, entided 
 ' The Lighter Side of Bishop How's Life.' Why 
 should this be published separately, apart from the 
 biography.? If it does not put the good Bishop in
 
 INTRODUCTORY 19 
 
 the light of a Joe Miller — and that could never be — 
 it looks as if the interweaving of the comic in the 
 graver aspect of one and the same man were in- 
 compatible and to be regarded as separate. Few who 
 do not know him better, would credit Goldwin Smith 
 with anything but grave thinking. He was apparently- 
 wrapt in thought one morning at breakfast, and 
 one would suppose he was contemplating writing 
 a brilliant essay. His father, somewhat impatient 
 of his silence, said : ' A penny for your thoughts, 
 Goldwin.' To this challenge I heard Goldwin reply: 
 * I was just thinking what an awful thing it must be 
 for a giraffe to have a sore throat ; what an amount of 
 gargle it would have to swallow, and what length of 
 bandage it would require !' I heard of a child saying 
 — one of the sweet sayings of childhood — on its return 
 from Church, on hearing of the creation of our first 
 parents out of dust : * Mother, I am sure when God 
 made you of dust He put a teaspoonful of sugar into 
 the dust !' Is not this separating the fun-loving, 
 human element in life a taking out of the sugar in the 
 dust ? 
 
 ' To some men God hath given laughter, 
 And tears to some men He hath given ; 
 
 He bade us sow in tears that we may harvest 
 Nobler smiles in heaven : 
 
 And tears and smiles they are His gift, 
 
 Both good to smite us or uplift.' 
 
 Meredith. 
 
 'God made,' writes Leigh Hunt, 'both tears and 
 laughter, and both for kind purposes. For as laughter 
 enables mirth and surprise to breathe freely, so tears 
 enable sorrow to vent itself patiently. Tears hinder 
 sorrow from becoming despair and sadness, and 
 
 2 — 2
 
 20 
 
 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 laughter is one of the very privileges of reason, being 
 
 confined to the human species.' 
 
 Shelley writes : 
 
 ' We look before and after, 
 And pine for what is not ; 
 Our sincerest laughter 
 
 With some pain is fraught.' 
 
 It is a tradition that our blessed Lord was often 
 seen to weep, but was never seen to smile. He was 
 ever looking on a fallen, sin-stricken world through 
 the eyes of tender pity and compassion. Artists have, 
 by an instinct or an inspiration, almost unanimously so 
 represented Him. Having no authentic portrait of 
 Christ — for we cannot conceive our Lord sitting for 
 His portrait, and in His days photography was un- 
 known — artists have been left to the resources of their 
 own imagination, as in the celebrated picture in the late 
 Prince Consort's collection.* We cannot, but in part, 
 look on men and women as He looked on them. I 
 doubt that even He would have us do so. We recall 
 with thankfulness that He wept at a grave-side with 
 heartfelt sympathy for bereaved sisters. We recall 
 with thankfulness that He was present at the happier 
 scene of a wedding at Cana. Amidst life's tragedies, 
 distressful scenes, sorrowful facts, depressing circum- 
 stances ; amidst toil of brain and sweat of brow ; 
 amidst corroding atixieties, fretting cares, and even 
 domestic trials, it is something to be thankful for to 
 have a sense of humour, if it be not vitiated by making 
 it the occasion of biting sarcasm or of needless pain. 
 
 A sense of humour is not without its drawbacks. It 
 is possible for a man who possesses it to be misunder- 
 * Mrs. Jameson, 'Art-History of Our Lord.'
 
 INTRODUCTORY 21 
 
 stood and misinterpreted if he pass quickly from grave 
 to gay or from gay to grave. It may lay him open to 
 the charge of levity, when it is often more reaction 
 after a great strain than levity. I recall a mission I 
 conducted in Northampton, which was a great strain. 
 I preached about four times a day for ten consecutive 
 days and had every day prolonged ' after-meetings ' 
 and 'inquirers.' In my bedroom was Landseer's 
 picture of a Highlander playing the bagpipes, sur- 
 rounded by his dogs. The performer is sublimely in- 
 different to the misery he is causing them, depicted in 
 the piteous expression on their faces, their food, in their 
 agony, being untouched. I laughed so immoderately that 
 it was heard all over the Vicarage. I stand opposite 
 it now, for the Vicar, in his kindness, bestowed it upon 
 me as a ' souvenir,' and it only occasions a smile. 
 
 The charm of ' miniature painting,' an art which 
 some are seeking to revive, or of a portrait by one of 
 our master portrait-painters, lies in the general truth- 
 fulness of the portrait. The artist engages you in 
 conversation, and endeavours to catch and delineate 
 the varying expression of the features. It cannot be 
 so with a photograph, described as ' Truth without 
 flattery, justice without mercy.' Having my photo- 
 graph taken by an eminent firm some years ago, I 
 asked why photographers always say : ' Now, sir, look 
 pleasant ; put on your most pleasing expression.' Now, 
 in the first place, it is difficult in a moment to decide, 
 without a looking-glass, which you or your friends 
 would consider 'your most pleasing expression'; 
 next, you do not want to be represented as perpetu- 
 ally and habitually smiling or 'grinning'; and, thirdly, 
 I defy the most resolute and self-possessed to preserve
 
 22 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 that ' most pleasing expression ' with a blinding flash 
 of magnesium light bursting on his sight. The 
 photographer's explanation was this : ' You, sir,' he 
 said, *as a " reverend gentleman," preach and teach 
 the doctrine of the Fall of Man. Now, we, as photo- 
 graphers, confirm that teaching. Our experience is 
 that no human countenance in repose is altogether 
 without a sinister expression.' Under these circum- 
 stances I at once agreed to put on my most 
 pleasing expression. People have sometimes said 
 of me, judging from a photograph, or when they see 
 me in church, ' Does that man ever laugh ?' On 
 one occasion when I took our Halifax Choir to Bolton 
 Abbey for their 'outing,' I particularly cautioned the 
 boys not to bathe in the dangerous river which flows 
 through those beautiful grounds. They disobeyed 
 orders and took the opportunity of our luncheon hour 
 to bathe. I was very cross with them. Shortly after 
 a photograph of me, looking rather stern, was exppsed 
 in a shop window, and as the boys passed it they were 
 heard saying : ' Eh ! ain't it like our Vicar looked 
 when he caught us bathing ?' I wish I could commend 
 by name the photographed who was taking a lady's 
 photograph : ' Now, lady, please look pleasant.' Of a 
 sudden he produced her Jianc^'s portrait, and said : ' Now, 
 keep on looking at 'im, keep thinking pleasantly of 'im.' 
 I know, and am thankful to know, that, with all its 
 faults, mistakes pointed out or corrected by reviewers, 
 ' Phases of My Life ' has brought a ray of sunshine 
 into not a few sick-rooms, and darkened lives. May 
 a not less happy result attend 
 
 ' Odds and Ends ' !
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 
 
 This second chapter, ' G. R.,' is devoted to boyhood 
 and schoolboy life ; it is meant for boys. There is 
 no necessity whatever for adults or the aged to read 
 it ; they can pass on to the next chapter. And yet, 
 somehow, I think they will look into it, for who is 
 there who does not from time to time look back and 
 recall the days of boyhood, masters and mistresses, 
 of pranks and fun, of ' spiritual pastors and teachers ' 
 to whom we were more or less obedient, for whom we 
 had more or less regard ? Those were days free from 
 anxiety and care. If we had a sorrow it was soon 
 forgotten ; if we shed tears they were quickly dried 
 up. They were days of brain-work lightened by 
 pleasant holidays ; of mental application and physical 
 recreations ; of Greek and Latin exercises agreeably 
 interspersed with cricket, football, rounders, and 
 boating. They were days of varied experiences, 
 forecasts in some sense of the experience in after-life 
 of sweet and bitter, of bitter and sweet : Reading, 
 writing, arithmetic ; ' the three R's ' — pardon the 
 spelling — to which were added history, geography, 
 algebra, Euclid ; and then the temporary closing of 
 primer or text-books for summer and winter holi- 
 days. All these abide in the memory. The cane, 
 ferrule, tawse, imposition, sundry and divers instru- 
 
 [23]
 
 24 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 ments of torture, to which different parts of the body 
 were subjected, according to the fancy of the tor- 
 turers ; the never-to-be-forgotten rides by coach or rail ; 
 voyages by sea and land ; home-coming greetings; kisses 
 of father, mother, sisters; thrilling stories of school- 
 life told to too credulous hearers ; tricks played on 
 governesses, brothers, and sisters, even on cooks — 
 who does not recall them ? 
 
 There must be some fascination about school-life, 
 otherwise when men and women meet in later years 
 they would not find themselves almost immediately 
 talking over school days, its incidents, friendships, 
 companions. What a hold the very buildings and 
 particular rooms in our public schools have on those 
 who recall the days of boyhood spent in them ! How 
 jealous we are of any alteration which could obliterate 
 the old landmarks ! How daring the hand that would 
 substitute new, ' up-to-date ' desks and forms for those 
 into which many a name of after-renown has been 
 rudely carved, and has served both as a memorial and 
 inspiration ! How when we meet those who were 
 once together as boys at the same school or college 
 we ' compare notes ' ! We name some who have 
 succeeded in the ' struggle for existence ' — the survival, 
 not of the 'fattest,' as someone with a lapsus Ungues 
 once said, but of the fittest, who have done and are 
 doing well, bringing * honour and lustre to their old 
 school. How many seem to have dropped altogether 
 out of sight ! You say, ' Do you ever hear of So- 
 and-so ? I wonder what has become of him ?' Some 
 quondam schoolfellows find themselves side by side 
 in batde-field and over camp-fire out in some far-off 
 colony, and revive a friendship which has oudived the
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 25 
 
 many intervening years. Yes, there is a fascination 
 as well as a great reality in boyhood and school-day 
 life. The meaning of it comes back as they say the 
 likeness of childhood, its features, lineaments, look, 
 comes back on the face of some who have fallen 
 asleep, and come to their grave as a shock of corn. 
 
 'IN THE OLD INN KITCHEN. 
 
 * By the old inn kitchen fire she sits, 
 
 With her sewing in her hand. 
 Whilst many an autumn shadow flits 
 
 Across the twilit land ; 
 And the old clock ticks in solemn state 
 
 In the kitchen corner there, 
 As a footstep comes to the garden gate, 
 And the maiden's face grows fair. 
 Ah, love, it was often so 
 In the old inn kitchen, long ago ! 
 
 ' The old inn kitchen still and dim 
 With waning daylight grows ; 
 She sits by the fire and smiles at him — 
 
 Ah, never a stitch she sews ! 
 The old clock watching from where it stands 
 
 Vows that he steals a kiss, 
 And how can she sew while he holds her hands 
 So closely in his like this ? 
 Ah, love, it was often so 
 In the old inn kitchen, long ago ! 
 
 ' By the old inn kitchen fire she sits. 
 And her hair is white as snow ; 
 She dreams of the old days while she knits, 
 
 For she cannot see to sew. 
 The old clock ticks in the corner wide, 
 
 While dusk steals over the land, 
 And oft he sits by his old wife's side, 
 And takes her wrinkled hand. 
 Ah, love, it was often so 
 In the old inn kitchen, long ago !'
 
 26 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 We address ourselves to boyhood life in this 
 chapter. Why not, ' G. R.' ? Tom Hughes, my former 
 schoolfellow, and since then more than once an 
 honoured guest, has left his unperishable record in 
 ' Tom Brown's School-days,' a book every boy should 
 read. At seventy years of age I find myself reading, 
 and with no little glee, fellow-feeling, and enjoyment, 
 Ian Maclaren's ' Young Barbarian,' with full apprecia- 
 tion of its hero, Speng. 
 
 Looking over what I have elsewhere said of 
 Neuwied, Ripon, Cheltenham, and Edinburgh, I must 
 steer clear of repetition, and carefully eschew ' old 
 chestnuts.' 'Old chestnuts!' How many know 
 what is meant by this oft-used expression, ' Oh, that 
 is an old chestnut !' Not quite sure that I knew the 
 origin and meaning of ' old chestnut,' I referred the 
 matter to Dr. Brewer's * Dictionary of Phrase and 
 Fable,' new edition, revised, corrected, and enlarged — 
 a book which should have a place in every private 
 library, as exhaustive as it is informing, of which more 
 than a hundred and three thousand copies have been 
 sold. In the footnote I quote his explanation :* 
 
 The rule my father gave us is good. I hand it on. * If 
 
 * 'Chestnut, a stale joke. In the "Broken Sword," an old melo- 
 drama by William Dillon, Captain Xavier is for ever telling the same 
 jokes with variations. He was telling about one of his exploits con- 
 nected with a cork-tree, when Pablo corrects him : " A chestnut-tree 
 you mean, Captain." " Bah !" replies the Captain ; " I say a cork- 
 tree." "A chestnut-tree," insists Pablo. " I must know better than 
 you," said the Captain ; "it was a cork-tree, I say." "A chestnut," 
 persists Pablo ; " I have heard you tell the joke twenty-seven times, 
 and I am sure that it was a chestnut." Is not this an illustration of 
 the enduring vitality of the chestnut ? {Notes and Queries). ' — ' Dictionary 
 of Phrase and Fable,' E. Cobham Brewer, LL.D. ; Cassell and Co.
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 27 
 
 — as in this case of " old chestnuts" — there is anything 
 
 you either do not know or are not sure about, look it 
 
 up at once.' Hence the value of books of reference in 
 
 your own library. Lord Malmesbury used to say that a 
 
 ' knowledge of reference is knowledge.' It is of great 
 
 advantage to your children to have at hand such books 
 
 of reference. It is useful when conversing with guests 
 
 and friends. A former governess of ours — peace to 
 
 her memory ! — made large and very frequent use of a 
 
 French dictionary. I cannot say that science was her 
 
 forte, but I can say that would-be omniscience was her 
 
 weakness. She knew really little or nothing of French 
 
 or German. If she came across any word which was 
 
 a hidden mystery to her, she concealed her ignorance 
 
 very skilfully. She did not say, as a Scotch minister 
 
 was in the habit of saying. ' This, my friends, is a 
 
 most deeficult passage of Scripture. Let u^ take a 
 
 good look at it, and then pass it by '; but she said : 
 
 ' Stupid child ! Go at once and get the French 
 
 dictionary.' Taking possession of the dictionary, she 
 
 would say : ' There it is ; that is the meaning of the 
 
 word. How very stupid of you not to know it!' I 
 
 was the very plague of her life. She both loved and 
 
 feared me. She absolutely dreaded the holidays, and 
 
 yet her warm heart yearned to see me when they 
 
 came. She thought she would teach my sisters Latin. 
 
 She knew about as much of Latin authors as did one 
 
 who recently replied to an advertisement for an 
 
 ' assistant ' capable of teaching the Classics as far as 
 
 Homer and Virgil. Amongst the answers was this : 
 
 ' Sir, — With reference to the advertisement which 
 
 were (!) in the Times newspaper a few days since 
 
 respecting a School Assistant, I beg to state that I
 
 28 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 should be happy to fill that situation ; but as most of 
 my friends reside in London, and not knowing how 
 far Homer and Virgil is from town, I beg to state 
 that I should not like to engage to teach the Classics 
 farther than Hammersmith or Turnham Green, or, at 
 the very utmost distance, farther than Brentford. 
 Awaiting your reply, I am. Sir, etc' 
 
 One such delicious story reminds me of another. 
 At one time literary breakfasts were the ' rage ' in 
 London. A lady who 'had risen from the ranks,' and 
 whose husband had realized a large fortune, ' affected ' 
 what she had neither been born to nor could ever 
 really feel herself at home in. But she thought that 
 she ought to be ' in the swim.' She suggested to her 
 pliant and equally ignorant husband that they should 
 give a literary breakfast. It is not, as the * G. R.' 
 will know, unusual for some pai^emi who wants to 
 get into good society to get someone of social standing 
 — if with 'a handle to the name' all the better — to 
 invite the guests. The lady in question got someone 
 to invite men ' of light and leading.' The discussion 
 and lively talk at the breakfast-table was on the 
 comparative merits of Cicero and Demosthenes. 
 She listened intently for some time. As the conver- 
 sation became more animated she called out to her 
 husband at the other end of the table : ' Husband, 
 dear, take down at once the names and addresses of 
 these two gentlemen, and let us invite them to our 
 next breakfast !' Their na7nes, of course, were well 
 known, but there was some little difficulty and obscurity 
 about their addresses ! 
 
 I was heard one day screaming at the top of my 
 voice in our house at Spa. My father and mother
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 29 
 
 hurried out of the drawing-room to ascertain what had 
 befallen me. I was found lying prostrate on the 
 ground, rolling in agony. ' What, what is the matter, 
 dear Frank ?' I could only feebly say, sobbing all the 
 while, that my sisters had referred to me as to the 
 correct pronunciation of Scipio and Oceanus, for they 
 had been told by said governess that the right pro- 
 nunciation was Skipio and Oceanus. No wonder she 
 dreaded ' that boy Frank ' as upsetting all her authority 
 in the schoolroom ! 
 
 At another time she proposed to instruct my sisters 
 in botany. She knew as much about botany as a 
 clergyman who became a well-known Bishop. Town- 
 bred, he knew little of country life. It is said of him 
 that he remarked that he looked forward to retiring to 
 country life, as he would keep sheep and have fresh 
 kidneys every morning for breakfast. Talking one 
 day to a farmer, and looking, as they leaned on the 
 gate, at a fine field of turnips, he is credited with 
 saying : ' That is a fine field, my friend, of radishes.' 
 ' Yes, sir,' replied the farmer, ' it is a. fine field, to be 
 sure ; but we in this part of the country mostly call 
 them there hirnips P 
 
 Our governess was very partial to the tail of a leg 
 of mutton. My father always assigned it to her. 
 Whenever a leg of mutton was served at dinner with- 
 out a tail, she used to say : ' Where is the tail ? How 
 very odd that there should be no tail !' She forgot 
 that Nature ' mostly ' thinks one enough at a time 
 for one sheep. 
 
 The lessons in botany were not a success. Why 
 my bed was selected for the purpose of object-lessons 
 I have never been able to understand. I used to find
 
 30 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 it bestrewed with roots fresh dug up, all laid out in 
 order, labelled, named, catalogued. It was a horti- 
 cultural exhibition on a small scale. (Was the reason 
 for the selection of my bed ' radical '.?) I found out 
 (oh, that odious boy !) that she went to the gardener 
 privately and unobserved, inquired of him the name 
 of a particular plant, and then, instead of ascertaining 
 from the general structure and characteristic features of 
 the plant, to what genus and species it belonged, she 
 went to work in a less scientific but more facile method. 
 Of course, when I made this discovery and communi- 
 cated it to my sisters, they lost all faith in her know- 
 ledge of botany, and she had fresh cause of complaint 
 that I upset her authority. 
 
 She thought she would teach my sisters drawing. 
 I suggested that, by way of explanation, she would 
 put 'this is a house,' or 'this is a horse,' etc. One 
 fine summer's day she proposed outdoor sketching. 
 It sounded delightful. She furnished herself with a 
 sketch-book, pencil, and small table, and carried with 
 her her parasol. She seated herself in a field opposite 
 the house in which we were staying in the country. 
 It had a projecting bay-window, an admirable subject 
 for perspective. The drawing was intended as a 
 present to our host. The table and chair were in 
 front of a small cops^, behind which I secreted myself. 
 I can imitate the vocal sounds of some animals. I 
 roared behind the copse like a bull. Instantly the 
 table was overthrown, sketch-book was forgotten ; she 
 ran screaming, pointing her parasol right and left at 
 imaginary bulls, and I picked up the sketch-book. 
 The bay-window was not unlike to a man with a portly 
 stomach turned outward, but the order and desio-n
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 31 
 
 were reversed. It was as if it were turned inward. 
 Can you wonder that she feared me, and not without 
 reason ? 
 
 From the foregoing the reader will probably come 
 to the conclusion that, if not an 'odious,' I must have 
 been a mischievous boy. I have reason to believe I 
 was.* 
 
 An old friend, who has known me from my youth 
 up, was calling at the Deanery but a short time ago, 
 and, shaking her head, said : ' You know, Dean, you 
 were a very mischievous boy — by that I mean full of 
 pranks.' This witness is true. But there are boys and 
 boys, are there not } Some vicious, some free from vice; 
 some truthful, some untruthful ; some afflicted with — let 
 us call it by a modified word for stealing — kleptomania ; 
 some who would cut off their right hand rather than 
 that it should offend ; some rough and rude, some 
 gentle and kind ; some selhsh, some unselfish ; some 
 brave, others timid ; some who can bear chaff, others 
 who cannot 'abide it.' Some boys are very greedy, 
 others not, and so on. There are some who bear fair 
 promise of good fruit in the blossoming of early life ; 
 there are some whose blossoms come to naught. Every 
 observant father or mother must have noticed the 
 marked differences of disposition and character in their 
 ' olive branches.' It even betrays itself in what is 
 inseparable from boyhood life, in the pranks they play. 
 Some are full of mischief, which is all pure fun, with 
 no evil intent ; with others prank and joke are tainted 
 with evil intent. It seems to me severe to ' stop all 
 
 * Imagine my astonishment when but a few days ago I lighted on 
 a volume of poems with this inscription : ' Given to Master Pigou for 
 his especial good conduct for the space of two years, July 25, 1842.'
 
 32 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 leave ' because some boys plugged keyholes with 
 plaster of Paris, and too much to expect — with the 
 chivalry of school-life — that a boy would turn ' King's 
 evidence.' Better, of course, that the boy who so 
 interfered with the introduction of a key should honestly 
 confess he did it, and take the consequences, rather 
 than that there should be a ' massacre of innocents/ 
 But this harmless joke is not to be compared with what 
 I remember a boy doing. He procured a long-barrelled 
 key, filed a hole into it, as you would for a fuse, loaded 
 it with gunpowder, and invited the unwary and un- 
 suspecting to look through the keyhole on the other 
 side of the door while he fired it ! For such a shame- 
 less deed, by which one might have lost one's sight, I 
 could suggest nothing better but that he should be 
 severely punished, first by the master, and afterwards 
 by the boys — ' handing him over to subalterns ' — 
 leaving to them the selection of punishment, both as 
 to place and measure of severity. 
 
 When I say there are 'boys' and boys,* I am think- 
 ing only of ' schoolboys.' There are other boys — e.g.^ 
 choir-boys, of whom I havq. something later on to say ; 
 the ' post-boy ' species of the ' genus ' boy, as extinct 
 as the dodo. There were the little lads, within my 
 memory, sent up chimneys to clean them, concerning 
 whom there are gruesome tales. There are telegraph- 
 boys, smart, intelligent, ubiquitous. There are boys 
 in offices ; you know them at once — ' Jacks in office,' 
 as my father used to call them, generally seen with 
 
 * I observe that Mr. Crockett classifies boys as ' old boys, young 
 boys, good boys, bad boys, big boys, little boys, cow-boys, and Tom- 
 boys ; so there is considerable variety.' (' Sir Toady Lion,' by S. R. 
 Crockett.)
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE ^3 
 
 the insignia of office stuck behind the ear, not 
 infrequently a slightly turned -up nose, pert and 
 ' cheeky.' There are boys on our tramcars, sometimes 
 civil-spoken, sometimes not. There are boys who 
 drive us wild with their street cries, as vendors of 
 newspapers and hot cross buns. There are the 
 wonderful gamins, waifs and strays, in our streets, 
 who turn somersaults and perform other acrobatic 
 feats to the inconvenience of passers-by in the Strand, 
 ever vigilant, ever on the look-out for a chance. The 
 latest trick of gamin life is performed during a real 
 pea-soup London fog. Carriages, omnibuses, cabs, are 
 mixed up in hopeless confusion. A nervous elderly 
 gentleman puts his head inquiringly, but incautiously, 
 out of the cab window, and says : ' Cabby, are you 
 quite sure where you are going }' The gajjzin 
 seizes that very favourable opportunity of relieving the 
 old gentleman of his hat, and ' eloping ' with it in the 
 maze of horses and wheels past all recovery. There is 
 the enfant terrible, a spoilt child, petted, indulged, 
 unreproved, who asks awkward questions at awkward 
 times. I well remember one specimen of this particular 
 ' species.' A gentleman was unfortunate in the arrange- 
 ment of his front teeth. They looked like a palisading 
 slightly out of the perpendicular, projecting from 
 beneath his upper lip. Sitting opposite him at a meal 
 you did your ' level best ' to avoid looking at him. 
 Suddenly a voice was heard : ' Mamma !' ' Yes, 
 
 beloved one.' ' Why does Mr. eat like a 
 
 wabbit ?' How often has the enfant terrible broken 
 in on the soft, sweet love-making of a happy pair, to 
 their confusion ! How often has he revealed what 
 was not intended to be told on house-tops ! Then 
 
 3
 
 34 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 ihere are the smart ' tigers.' standing still as a statue 
 in front of the horse champing the bit, or holding on 
 behind, however severe the jolting. Smart, the very 
 pink of liveried neatness, themselves about four feet 
 high, hat and all. One such was pictured in Punch. 
 * Whose carriage is this, my boy ?' inquired a passer- 
 by. ' Do you think I am going to tell the like of you 
 who my master is ?' Then there is the ' page-boy ' 
 pure and simple. Who does not remember Dickens' 
 fat boy, alternately eating and falling into profound 
 sleep.-* How many of us have laughed over his descrip- 
 tion of the page-boy, fat by habitual eating, outgrowing 
 the stiffly-buttoned jacket, so that occasionally a button 
 gave way, and was heard in its rapid flight, shot as 
 from a rifle, to ping on the opposite wall ! 
 
 This story of a page-boy is not ' O.C There are 
 stories afloat which somewhat resemble mine, but I 
 have this ' first-hand ' from a lady in Yorkshire, at 
 whose house it occurred. She had engaged a ' page- 
 boy,' a raw recruit in the great army of domestic 
 service. She and her husband were giving a dinner- 
 party. She sent for John. , She told him that she was, 
 of course, aware that this was his 'first situation.' 
 '■ Remember, John ' (' Yes, mum '), ' that you have only 
 to hand round wine ; do you quite understand ?' 'Yes, 
 mum.' ' Now, there will be two kinds of sherry on 
 the sideboard, one inferior, which you will hand round 
 after soup ; do you understand ?' 'Yes, mum.' ' The 
 other wine is placed on the table at dessert. You quite 
 understand T ' Oh yes, mum — quite.' 
 
 The guests are seated ; the critical moment arrives. 
 Somewhat anxiously, and avoiding as far as possible 
 anything that could betray her ill-concealed anxiety,
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 35 
 
 she nods to John, intimating that the time has come for 
 acting on her instructions. John seizes the decanter. 
 Passing from guest to guest, he whispers confidentially : 
 ' Inferior sherry, sir ? Inferior sherry, mum ?' I 
 leave the scene to the imagination of the ' G. R.' One 
 story, of course, suggests another. ' I think, Dean,' 
 said a friend, ' I can cap your story. A page-boy had 
 been told that it was not " the thing " to fill a wineglass 
 too full. Bearing this in mind, with trembling hand he 
 proceeded — I know not if it was " inferior sherry" 
 — to fill a wineglass. He filled it up to the brim. 
 Suddenly, aware of his error, he raised the glass to his 
 lips and relieved it considerably of its contents.' I do 
 not think this anecdote is as good as mine. It is less 
 probable, is it not ? At any rate, I am never asked at 
 a dinner-party, 'Take sherry, sir?' without having to 
 restrain myself from replying, ' Is it inferior sherry V 
 no more than when I see bana.nas at dessert I can 
 help recalling the scene at a wedding in Kensington 
 parish church, narrated elsewhere.* 
 
 But revenons a nos moutons, who shall explain 
 what lies behind the follies, capacities, pranks of 
 schoolboy life ? The pranks of girls are not to be 
 compared with those of boys. They are, so far as I 
 have heard, of a very mild nature. At a school at 
 which my daughters were placed one girl shut herself 
 up in a disused clock-case. Heaven knows why ! 
 She spent the greater part of the night in it, for the 
 door shut with a spring, and she had ' lost touch ' 
 with it. I suppose she had some idea of playing a 
 prank, but the result was at least highly embarrassing 
 and personally very inconvenient. Here is an extract 
 
 * 'Phases of My Life,' popular edition, pp. 200, 20X. 
 
 ■^ o
 
 36 
 
 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 from a ' girl's essay on boys ': ' Boys are men that 
 have not got as big as their papas, and girls are 
 women that will be ladies by-and-by. Man was made 
 before woman. When God looked at Adam He said 
 to Himself: "Well, I think I can do better if I try 
 again," and He made Eve. Boys are a trouble. They 
 wear out everything but soap. If I had my way, the 
 world would be girls and the rest dolls. My papa is 
 so nice that I think he must have been a little girl 
 when he was a little boy. Man was made, and on 
 the seventh day He rested. Woman was then made, 
 and she has never rested since.' 
 
 I wonder who invented the sumptuary laws of our 
 public schools, and certain rules the infringement of 
 which entails condign punishment. Yet these, which 
 prevail at Eton, Rugby, Harrow, Winchester, are 
 traditional, and, like the laws of the Medes and 
 Persians, may not be broken. During one term at 
 Cheltenham we were considered ' slow ' if we did not 
 eat raw pickles in our bedroom. Over and over again, 
 regardless of all ' dietaries,' flinging to the winds all 
 instruction as to being very careful as to what you eat, 
 I, rather than be dubbed ' slow,' have procured whole 
 bottles of piccalilli and pickles, have eaten gherkins, 
 onions, and walnuts before going to bed. Very silly, 
 was it not ? At another time cocoa was ' all the rage.' 
 Who promulgated these unwritten laws } Who is 
 responsible for them one no more knows than how 
 and why, by some general consensus, tops have their 
 season, marbles another, tip-cat another, just as surely 
 and in due sequence as cricket, football, rounders, and 
 fives have their appointed season. How great the 
 capacity of a healthy boy with a fair amount of
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE ^y 
 
 pocket-money available at the 'tuck shop'! How 
 much he can stow away! Think, ' G. R.,' of this 
 boy's meal ! 
 
 A Boy's Meal. 
 
 ' A schoolboy in Yorkshire, aged eleven, was yester- 
 day ordered to receive six strokes of the birch-rod for 
 stealing a collecting-box. He snatched the box out 
 of the hand of a seven-year-old lad, and, breaking it 
 open, proceeded to dine. The mentt was as follows : 
 Four bottles of "pop"; four ice-creams; four pork 
 pies ; three sweets ; one black pudding ; one cake ; 
 one cup of tea ; a pennyworth of tripe ; and two 
 oranges. A packet of cigarettes followed, and ex- 
 hausted the contents of the box.' 
 
 The birching, I presume, was given to assist diges- 
 tion, on much the same principle as a glass of liqueur 
 is sipped after dinner. How wonderful the inside of a 
 boy's pocket ! how varied its contents ! I wrote out 
 a recipe for my grandson at school : Pocket - knife 
 with four blades, hook for taking stones out of a 
 horse's hoof, corkscrew, and sundry other more or less 
 useful instruments ; a top ; pieces of string of different 
 lengths ; a pencil ; a few marbles ; a small portion of 
 loose gunpowder ; a few lozenges or sweets — e.g., 
 barley sugar, Everton toffee, liquorice ; some sticky 
 substance which will make all adhere together in a 
 conglomerate mass — e.g., glue, where it can be ob- 
 tained, preferable. Thus a boy would be equipped 
 with a ' vade-mecum.' Frank Buckland would have 
 added to this in the shape of an assortment of leeches 
 or blind-worms. All these ' articles ' are dear to a boy, 
 though not Thirty- Nine. They are the traditional
 
 38 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 contents of every right-minded schoolboy's pocket. 
 How reluctandy the boy allows sisters or even mother 
 to ' turn out his pockets '! 
 
 Now, what lies behind pranks of which parents, 
 brothers, and sisters are regarded as fair and proper 
 victims ? What is the secret of mischievous pro- 
 pensities ? Is the propensity inborn or acquired ? 
 Shall we apply to it the celebrated definition of 
 instinct — ' A propensity prior to experience and inde- 
 pendent of instruction ' ? It seems innate to boys to 
 play pranks, and to expend an almost inexhaustible 
 fund of ingenuity and energy at the expense of their 
 playmates and masters. There is no evil intent in it. 
 It is pure frolic and unadulterated fun, from which a 
 considerable amount of satisfaction is derived. It is 
 amongst our recollections in after-life. ' Do you re- 
 member,' etc., 'how we,' etc. It depends much on the 
 master himself as to how far pranks at his expense 
 may go. Splitting canes with horsehair was really 
 very enjoyable. A boy derives great and quiet satis- 
 faction from this particular experiment, provided it 
 succeeds. I do not approve of putting pins or 
 needles into a master's chair, and awaiting results from 
 sitting down ' on the spur of the moment.' Extracting 
 oil from a lamp with a syphon is ingenious, and makes 
 the writing out of an imposition to a late hour to be 
 abridged. What intense delight we used to find in 
 dropping a cracker, one of the longest and of most pro- 
 longed report, into the master's letter-box at dead of 
 night ! The behaviour of the cracker is almost fiendish 
 in its contracted sphere ; imagination endeavours to 
 realize the scene in that disturbed and distracted house- 
 hold.
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 39 
 
 Few boys, I venture to think, could tell of such 
 pranks as we played on our German master. Dr. 
 Nachot, at the Edinburgh Academy. As I have not 
 done more than allude to this elsewhere, I tell them 
 more in detail now. It would be difficult for any boy 
 to tell of pranks at Nachot's expense more daring 
 and 'outrageous.' He had a habit, being short of 
 stature and short-sighted, of bursting into the class- 
 room ' to zee moment.' We so arranged our bats and 
 wickets at the door that, by common consent, they all 
 fell like an avalanche over his feet. We at once 
 expressed our deep regret that any one boy in the class 
 should have caused him even momentary pain. So 
 soon as we were settled down after this ' untoward 
 incident,' he would say : 'Now, boys, ven I do take a 
 new class, I do give zee boys my rules.' As I knew 
 German, and was therefore generally ' zee dux,' I was 
 spokesman for 'zee boys.' 'We are all, sir, looking 
 forward to hearing your rules. They are sure to be 
 excellent for the necessary discipline of the class.' 
 ' Zis is rule nomber von : If a boy do come in to zee 
 class after me, I do lock zee door, and I do keep him 
 out.' ' Pardon me, sir,' I said ; ' no doubt the rule 
 number one is good, but I think the boys will fail to 
 see how, when the boy is once in, you will lock him 
 out ; but no doubt you have carefully considered the 
 difficulty.' ' You vill be quiet, sair ! Zis is rule 
 nomber two : If a boy do talk vhen he is zee dux ' — 
 he generally gave a significant look at me — ' he do go 
 down von place ; if he do talk again, he do go down 
 two place.' (We bobbed like corks on water, to imitate 
 ' zee boys ' going down.) ' If he do still talk he do go 
 down, and down, and down ' (we bobbed again) * until
 
 40 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 he do become zee " booby " !' (' Booby ' is the bottom 
 boy in Scotch schools.) 'If he do talk ven he is zee 
 booby, he do stand up for five minutes. If he do talk 
 ven he is zee booby, I do put him in zee corner! If 
 he do talk vhen he is in zee corner, I do turn him out 
 altzogether.' We all feigned to be awestruck and quite 
 overcome. After a short pause I went up to Nachot 
 and said : ' The boys wish me, sir, to express to you 
 how very fully we appreciate your rules. We can 
 conceive none better framed for the needful discipline 
 of your class.' ' I do thank you,' was his 'gracious reply.' 
 Immediately after class we met and drew lots who 
 should put these rules to the test. Rule ' nomber 
 von ' was soon rescinded, being, after one or two 
 scuffles, found impracticable and unworkable. The 
 descent of one incessant talker was very rapid, facile 
 descensus^ etc., from dux to booby. As booby he 
 continued chattering, and was at once ordered to go 
 into ' zee corner.' Anything more delightfully ludi- 
 crous it were difficult to imagine. Boys shortly leaving 
 for Universities — some nearly six feet in height — put 
 into ' zee corner ' ! Then began wailing, sobbing, 
 howling, ' zee boy ' rocking* to and fro in agony of 
 mental grief, and only watching a favourable oppor- 
 tunity for discharging a ' Waterloo cracker ' at Nachot. 
 He really believed 'zee boy' was in acute mental 
 anguish, and listened to all these expressions of it with 
 a certain quiet satisfaction. I went up to Nachot and 
 said : ' This punishment, sir, is too severe ; it is heart- 
 breaking, humiliating to the last degree ' (renewed 
 howls). ' You hear for yourself, sir, how that boy is 
 suffering.' Nachot relented, and bid ' zee boy ' resume 
 his place as ' booby.'
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 41 
 
 But this punishment, severe as it was, became 
 frequent and too famiHar, as did a scarecrow in a field, 
 put there to frighten away birds which after a time 
 built their nests in it ; so true it is that ' familiarity 
 breeds contempt.' No one of us had been 'turned 
 out altzogether.' For this crowning disgrace we again 
 drew lots. The lot fell to a boy of the name of Smith, 
 which no German can pronounce. Nachot varied it 
 from Schmid to Schmidz. We met that morning- in a 
 state of high-wrought expectation. Would Smith 
 succeed.'* Would his courage fail him at the last ? He 
 went rapidly through the preliminary stages, and was 
 put into ' zee corner.' Nachot was very angry with 
 him. We were having German dialogue conversation 
 for our lesson. Nachot made Smith answer in the 
 corner as if he were in his place in the class. I have 
 never heard of such cool, barefaced impudence. 
 ' Schmitz, sair, I vill ask you von question.' ' Yes, 
 sir.' 'Do you like tea, coffee, or chocolate?' Of 
 course, Smith ought to have said : ' Lieben sie Thee, 
 oder Kaffee, oder Chocolat ?' Wiping away his 
 crocodile tears, he replied : ' 1 am sure, sir, I am much 
 obliged to you. After all my shameful conduct I could 
 hardly have expected such kindness. I think, on the 
 whole, I prefer a cup of chocolate.' Nachot was 
 furious. He rushed at Smith and ' turned him out 
 altzogether.' I went up to Nachot and said : ' We 
 thank you, sir. Such conduct deserves expulsion. 
 You have vindicated the character of this class ;' and 
 he believed me ! 
 
 Nachot used to sit near the fireplace on winter days. 
 The fire was protected by a large gauze screen. We 
 would slip a penny ink-bottle full of water, the cork
 
 42 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 tightly secured, into the midst of the coals, and very 
 shortly would follow a dynamite explosion on a small 
 scale, scattering the coals in every direction. Alarmed, 
 we rushed up to Nachot ; felt him all over from head to 
 foot ; expressed our earnest hope that he had sustained 
 no serious injury ; begged we might be allowed at once 
 to 8fo and see the coal merchant and remonstrate with 
 him for imperilling so valuable a life ! To this he 
 readily assented, and we got an hours holiday. How 
 well I remember his correcting ' zee exercises !' Short- 
 sighted, he put zee little bottle of ink close to his nose. 
 Someone — I wonder who ? — put some asafoetida into 
 the ink ; we watched the effect. ' Och !' he cried, 
 putting his handkerchief to his nose ; ' zee dux, you vill 
 come here. Zere is a very bad smell in zis bottle. You 
 must smell it.' ' Thank you, sir,' I replied ; ' I am per- 
 fectly satisfied with your keen sense of smelling,' ' I 
 insist, sir, on your smelling zis bottle.' I put it to my 
 nose and feigned dreadful sickness. I told him that I 
 felt conscientiously that all the other boys ought to 
 smell it. Each and all groaned and writhed and in 
 various ways feigned extreme disgust. I said : ' We 
 are all very ill, sir — very ill. We must get out into 
 the pure air as quickly as possible ;' and so we got 
 another hours holiday. 
 
 We had a meeting, I taking the chair. We were 
 boys with turned-down collars and jackets. We 
 agreed we would surprise Nachot next morning. 
 He came in, and found us all sitting gravely, like the 
 Christy Minstrels, with stand-up collars, a vast display 
 of shirt-front and large knitting-needles stuck into 
 them, surmounted with small dobes of sealino--wax. 
 
 T T 
 
 He gazed at us in astonishment, and asked what it all
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 43 
 
 meant. We replied that we thought he would be 
 pleased with our somewhat altered attire. Frank 
 Mackenzie, as full of fun as of goodness, had out- 
 stripped us all. He had put on a false moustache. 
 Nachot could not believe that that moustache was the 
 growth of one night. In his extreme irritation he 
 mistook it for black dirt. Rushing up to Mackenzie, 
 he said : ' You very dirty boy, how dare you come 
 here with your face unvashed ?' And he was ' turned 
 out altzotrether.' 
 
 Endless were our pranks at the expense of poor 
 Nachot. We had, e.g., a bell hidden away in the 
 ceiling, mysteriously rung during class- time. Water- 
 loo crackers were placed at other times deftly under 
 the leg of the chair on which he plumped down, and 
 so we 'led him a life.' And yet it was all pure /iin ; 
 there was no malicious intent. 1 refer the ' G. R.' to 
 ' Phases of My Life ' to see how other masters, not 
 such fair game nor so unsuspecting, stopped us in 
 our wild career, fresh after these pranks on poor 
 Nachot, who resigned his post. 
 
 My dear father once suspected me of a practical 
 joke at his expense. I would never have taken such 
 a liberty with him, but, knowing how full of mischief I 
 was, I found it necessary to assure him, ' on my word 
 of honour,' that I was not guilty. In early life he 
 suffered much from ophthalmia, and was advised to 
 take snuff, which became a confirmed habit. He was 
 also, from having lived so much abroad, particular 
 about the quality of coffee. He would buy small 
 samples of snuff and small samples of coffee. One 
 evening he gave my sister a packet, saying he would 
 try this sample of coffee, and my sister, believing it
 
 44 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 to be coffee, put it into the coffee-pot. We had a 
 most nauseous combination of snuff, milk, and sugar ! 
 My father emptied, in a moment of forgetfulness, his 
 packet of choice coffee into his snuff-box, and at once 
 accused me of playing a trick. He took a pinch of 
 coffee for a pinch of snuff ! 
 
 My dear mother was, however, the subject of a 
 practical joke at my hands when we lived in Edinburgh. 
 She advertised for a lady's-maid, and it was resolved 
 that I should apply at once for the 'situation,' My 
 sisters dressed me up, rather negligently as the event 
 proved, and at dusk I called and was ushered into the 
 drawing-room. I was well supplied — too well supplied 
 — with ' characters ' from my last situation, and my 
 sisters coached me in what my mother was likely to ask 
 me. The circumstances were so novel to me that I 
 quite forgot to wait until told to be seated. I at once 
 sat down by my mother's side on the sofa, which I saw 
 she rather resented. She proceeded to ask me some 
 questions, to which I replied with feigned voice. At 
 last it became so ridiculous that I burst out laughing, 
 but suppressed it with a sort of hysterics. My mother, 
 lost in amazement, said : ' Good gracious ! what is the 
 matter with you ?' I replied : ' Well, ma'am, I am 
 liable to what they call "istrikes," and it comes on 
 when I am anxious.' My mother at once rang the 
 bell for some sal volatile, and, recovering, we proceeded. 
 I could see that she was not taken with me. I rose 
 to leave the room, and as I walked to the door felt 
 something giving way, and saw two large pieces of 
 tape. I could not decently take up my petticoats to 
 see what had gone wrong, and I shed, like a crab 
 sheds its shell, a flaring red petticoat on the drawing-
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 45 
 
 room floor ! I came in to my mother, and said : 
 ' Well, mother, has anyone applied for the situation ?' 
 ' Oh yes, indeed, my dear boy. I have had the most 
 extraordinary creature here. First she plumped her- 
 self down by my side on the sofa ; next she had an 
 attack of what she called "istrikes," brought on, she 
 said, by anxiety ; and what do you think — I hardly 
 like to tell you — but one of her petticoats dropped oft 
 her in this room. If she cannot dress herself, she 
 certainly would not suit me for a lady's-maid.' ' Dear 
 mother,' I said, ' it was I — yes, it was your own son — 
 who applied, had the " istrikes," and did not know 
 what to do with that sliding-off petticoat.' 
 
 My aunt forgave me for what I feared was past 
 forgiveness. She was a maiden lady of uncertain age, 
 very old-fashioned, and beneath all her outward prim- 
 ness beat a most warm and kind heart. I have every 
 reason, short of seeing them, to believe that she wore 
 small ' frisettes.' Every lady will know what I mean. 
 Pleasant ruses of a make-believe nature for pufting 
 out curls or hair on either side of the face. I per- 
 suaded our cook, after tipping her, to serve two of 
 these up for breakfast, fried, and on toast. When my 
 aunt lifted the cover, for all the world they looked like 
 twin sausages. She tasted one and exclaimed, ' Bless 
 my heart, what on earth has the cook sent this morn- 
 ing !' She postponed her interview with the cook 
 until after severe cross examination she discovered 
 the real culprit — that terrible boy, Frank ! 
 
 But I recall one practical joke which I have never 
 ceased to regret, but for which, I hope, I have long 
 been forgiven. I was staying at a country house in 
 Ireland. The family with whom I was staying had
 
 46 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 a governess who was afflicted with an all-devouring 
 appetite. It was a consuming fire. I cannot but 
 think it must have been occasioned by some internal 
 disease. It was specially notable if any little delicacy 
 or toothsome dish was within her reach. My host 
 had an idea that he had found in me a fitting tool, and 
 ' put me up ' to do what I shamelessly did. Under 
 his direction a muffin was ordered for breakfast. I 
 emptied the contents of a whole cruet of Cayenne 
 pepper into the muffin, divided into four portions. 
 We placed the muffin near her, as you put a bit of 
 cheese in a mouse-trap. At once she attacked it. I 
 watched the effect. She took one portion, and ate it 
 without even winking or wincing. She consumed the 
 whole of it without evincing the slightest emotion ; 
 her inside must have been a very burning furnace. 
 Whether she was a salamander indifferent to heat, or, 
 ' seeing through it,' had resolved with set teeth not to 
 let us see she felt anything, I never found out. She 
 reminded me of that Spartan boy, about whom I have 
 always been somewhat sceptical, who let a fox gnaw 
 at his vitals without telling his mother. 
 
 To make matters worse, my host kept kicking me 
 under the table to call my attention to how she gulped 
 down that muffin. Kicking under the table on the sly 
 reminds me of a wife, solicitous about her husband's 
 health, who brought him home as a bonne douche a 
 dozen oysters. ' Now, dear,' she said, ' these are all 
 for yourself ' I have asked,' he said, ' a friend whom 
 I met to come and take "pot-luck" with us.' ' Well,' 
 she said, ' you need not offer him any oysters.' The 
 laws of hospitality forbade this, and he offered him 
 four. Again he pressed some more on his guest, who
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 47 
 
 courteously declined them. After luncheon his wife 
 said : ' How stupid, dear, you were at luncheon ! I 
 kept kicking you under the table as a hint not to offer 
 any more oysters.' ' My dear,' he said, ' you never 
 kicked me ; you must, by his refusing to take any 
 more, have kicked him.' 
 
 Boys will be boys, and pranks, mischief, daring 
 adventures are inseparable from boy-life, unless he be 
 a pronounced 'muff' or 'molly-coddle.' Excellent 
 and instructive as his book is, I cannot bring myself 
 fully to agree with the wTiter in what Mr. Furneaux 
 says in his Preface to ' The Outdoor World ': 
 
 ' " Boys will be boys !" How often has this expression been used 
 in extenuation of their mischievous propensities ! Boys are naturally 
 active, and if they have not the inclination or the opportunity to 
 expend their store of mental and physical energy in some interesting 
 and profitable employment, we shall be sure to find them working 
 out some little scheme by which they hope to derive satisfaction at 
 the expense of their playmates, their neighbours, or some dumb 
 animal. You may almost as well talk to an oak log as tell a boy 
 that he should abstain from such practical jokes as those which give 
 him pleasure at the cost of his victimized schoolmates — that it is 
 wrong to annoy his neighbour by damaging his property, or that it 
 is cruel to tie a bundle of ignited crackers to the tail of a cat. If a 
 boy is to relinquish such occupations, we must direct his energies 
 into another channel by giving him a taste for something better. 
 Teach him to play a game of cricket or to swim ; let him have a 
 camera, and show him how to take a photograph ; give him a sketch- 
 book, and cultivate a taste for the reproduction of the beautiful in 
 Nature and art ; or make him a present of a book of scientific 
 recreations. Amongst such works probably none will be found so 
 fascinating to a boy as those which treat of natural history. Let 
 him once acquire a taste for collecting, preserving, and studying 
 natural history objects, and he has a hobby that will keep him out 
 of mischief; give him healthy employment for mind and body, and 
 occupation for all seasons of the year, both at home and in the 
 field.'
 
 48 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 The study of Nature, so fascinating, so ' pure,' as the 
 late Lord Derby was in the habit of saying, will not — 
 why should it ? — eradicate or altogether supplant 
 'mischievous propensities.' I am writing this in a 
 sequestered and charming country rectory,* and in a 
 schoolboy's bedroom. I notice several books on 
 natural history, of which I give the list at the end of 
 this chapter ; a case of beetles, evidently of his own 
 capture and arrangement ; side by side with Mark 
 Twain's writings a photograph of a schoolfellow, or 
 of a boy's hero-worship ; Christmas cards from loving 
 hearts ; scraps, more or less amusing, cut out from 
 illustrated papers and pasted on the walls, a pro- 
 minent place being assigned to the well-known adver- 
 tisement of Pears' Soap, a very dirty, dissipated look- 
 ing character writing to Pears : * I used your soap 
 two years ago, since then / have used no other'; 
 Bible, Prayer-Book, and helpful books of devotion ; 
 and, inter alia, ' Schoolboy Honour,' by Adams, ^nd 
 poetry. I do not know the boy, but I * discern ' and 
 judge from what I see on his walls and shelves, from 
 his bat and golf-sticks, that he is a fair sample of a 
 true English boy, probably as full of mischief and up 
 to ' pranks ' as he is a lover of Nature, and manly in 
 his taste for games and sports. That a boy should 
 have a * hobby ' outside strictly scholastic studies is, on 
 all accounts, desirable. School-life per se does not 
 give much opportunity either for indicating or develop- 
 ing individual taste. Parents at home may soon discern 
 their child's inclination. Some, e.g.^ show a decided 
 taste for music, some for languages, some for one out 
 of many departments of natural history. I know one, 
 * Luccombe, Somersetshire.
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 49 
 
 no longer a boy, who had a marked taste for engineer- 
 ing, and for the manufacture of sundry and divers 
 'weapons of war.' He was always making catapults, 
 spring-guns, assegais, boomerangs, and inviting us to 
 allow him to 'have a shot at us.' He was overjoyed 
 when I lent him a pistol. It is true that I invariably 
 found the safest place was to stand in the direct line of 
 fire, but, on the whole, I encouraged him to direct his 
 aim at trees, walls, and suchlike less vulnerable targets. 
 But ' people who live in glass houses must be 
 careful not to throw stones.' When, some years ago, 
 I was staying with my dear brother, then quartered at 
 Parkhurst, a small company under his direction went 
 out for rifle practice. He proposed to me that I 
 should try my luck at the target, to which I readily 
 assented. I was confident that I covered the bull's-eye, 
 and in that confidence fired, not a little hurt by the 
 recoil. I heard a voice behind me saying : ' Gone to 
 glory, gone to glory f This, of course, referred to the 
 bullet. This reminds me of a ' noble lord,' notoriously 
 a 'bad shot,' who said to the keeper, after unsuccessful 
 efforts : ' Keeper, tell me the truth : did you ever see 
 such a bad shot as I am ?' ' Oh yes, my lord, I have 
 seen worse shots than your lordship. Your lordsJiip 
 77iisses the birds so clean' My young friend is now 
 doing well as an engineer. 
 
 Apart from the personal value of a * hobby,' and all 
 that some special study brings of information to the 
 mind, we never know when it may be of service to 
 others. I have found the study of the microscope of 
 the greatest use in my ministry, as enabling me to give 
 'popular lectures.' The study of astronomy in one 
 case, of electricity in another, was of great mental 
 
 4
 
 50 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 enjoyment and resource to two, within my knowledge, 
 of our leading manufacturers in the West Riding of 
 Yorkshire. How many men in the very forefront of 
 political, commercial, industrial life have their hobby, 
 and, fortunately, ample means with which to indulge it ! 
 
 If I would put Smiles' ' Self- Help ' into every school- 
 boy's hands, I would put the writings of Macmillan, 
 Wood and more, whose name is legion, into their 
 hands also, not in the hope or desire to eradicate what 
 is native in a boy, but as a safeguard and inexhaustible 
 source of healthy information. 
 
 Apropos of boys, I have a considerable collection of 
 answers given by boys at examinations and on other 
 occasions. They are more or less genuine. The 
 following is a fair sample of many others which may 
 have been suggested by it, or ' made up.' 
 
 Describe a hen : ' Hens is curious animals ; they 
 don't have no nose, nor no teeth, nor no ears. They 
 swallow their wittles whole, and chew it up in their 
 crops inside of 'em. The outside of hens is generally 
 put inter pillers and into feather dusters. The inside 
 of a hen ' — he must have been thinking of his own 
 pockets — ' is sometimes filled with marbles and shirt- 
 buttons, and sich. A hen is very much smaller than 
 a good many other animals, but they'll dig up more 
 tomato-plants than anything that ain't a hen. Hens 
 is very useful to lay eggs for plum-puddings,' (This 
 must have been written at Christmas-tide.) ' Hens 
 have got wings, and can fly when they get frightened. 
 I cut off a hen's head with a hatchet, and it frightened 
 her to death. Hens sometimes make very fine 
 " spring chickens." ' 
 
 Students of natural history and of the ' curiosities '
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 51 
 
 of natural history will fully appreciate these facts 
 about poultry, and I give one out of many equally 
 interesting and informing facts. 
 
 Describe swine : ' The swine is a piggy. Some- 
 times he is a sow, sometimes he isn't. This beast is 
 kept by man principally for his trotters, likewise for 
 his cracklin'.' (Charles Lamb would appreciate this.) 
 'His blud is sold to the Juze, by whom it is much 
 prized. He was brought from the 'Oly Land by the 
 Gud Templurs, hand 'is hansesters "ad devvels in 
 them, hand were choaked in the Medhithurhaneum 
 See. This sometimes prays on his mind ; on such 
 hoccashuns he generally goes to slepe. I think his 
 fir would be ven^ vallyuable, onley he has not gott 
 hany. His tale forms the cheaf hornyment of the 
 Chyneese, hand his ecksported in grate quantities from 
 Hafrica. The swine is a very hinterlexual beest, 
 hand he is sumtvmes tort mathem-matticks. He 
 could do Lattin with the thurd klass, likewise Gramer 
 hand Joggriffy with the forth. When he has no hinde 
 legges, the swine is a byped. otherwise he is not. His 
 apytyte is gude, hand it makes 'im "appie when his 
 privishuns are numerus. His cheaf fude is 'is hone 
 yung wuns, hand the feamail generally sleaps on them 
 at nite. The swine is a very hambishus beast, and his 
 cheaf hockupashun is corpeulensh, for witch he opes 
 to get faim. I think this is all I know about swine.' 
 
 This is all very interesting. I cannot vouch for the 
 authenticity of this description, but I can for the 
 following. This is the answer, showing the result of 
 a smattering of knowledge, given by a school-girl. 
 ' State the process of digestion in the human system.' 
 Answer : 'In eating your food you must be careful to 
 
 4—2
 
 52 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 shew it.' (Fancy people at a dinner-party carrying out 
 these explicit instructions !) ' The more you shew your 
 food, the more you reduce it in the stomach to a pulp. 
 The heart has two artilleries, which play upon the 
 pulp, and that is what I understand by digestion.' 
 
 This is of recent and authentic occurrence. A boy 
 of ten writes touching the Coronation : 'It is the 
 priverlege of the Lord Mare to wash and dress the 
 King the day he is crowned. The Archbishop of 
 Canterberry will ask the King to say an oath, and 
 when he has done this, he will wash the feat of twelve 
 poor peepul, and rise up an ointment King.' 
 
 Another boy says of the King : ' Although he is a 
 rooler, he is a clever man with tack.' (Very compli- 
 mentary to other ' roolers ' !) 'He has such respeck for 
 himself that he wrote a new poem for the Coronation 
 called "God save our gracious King." His Majesty 
 will sing this himself while he is being crowned with 
 pomperaniss in Westminster Abbey.' 
 
 Another boy states that the prisons will be emptied 
 on Coronation Day (Heaven help us!) ; the prisoners 
 will see the crowning 'like rispektable people,' and 
 then go back happily to prison again. The Duke of 
 Norfolk, ' who has a gold stick, will set off skwibs, 
 and as the prime Duke of England will see that every- 
 thing is nice and solemn.' This must be very inter- 
 esting and helpful t5 the Earl Marshal. It is not 
 lacking in definiteness and assurance. Rather different 
 from what I heard lately of a boy. He was told 
 never to be too certain, never to express himself too 
 confidently. Asked of one, ' Is that man your 
 father ?' — (he was) — the boy replied : ' I cannot say he 
 is for certain^
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 53 
 
 At the opening of a Scotch University the follow- 
 ing were the answers given at a preliminary examina- 
 tion of candidates for admission to the classes : ' What 
 is meant by the antiquity of man ?' Answ^er : ' The 
 wickedness of man.' ' The letters of Junius ?' ' Letters 
 written in the month of June.' 'The Crusades?' 
 ' A war against the Roman Catholics during the last 
 century.' ' To speak ironically ?' ' To speak about 
 iron.' ' A Gordian knot ?' ' The arms of the Gordian 
 family,' ' The Star Chamber ?' ' Place for viewing 
 the stars.' ' To sit on the woolsack ?' ' To be seated 
 on a sack of wool.' ' A solecism ?' ' A book on the 
 sun.' 'The year of Jubilee?' ' Leap year P Or 
 this answer from one who had received a ' finished 
 education,' who applied for a post as pupil-teacher. 
 Asked to describe a voyage to Sydney : ' Journey to 
 Sydney. First you go from Calais to Dover ; then 
 take the train and go to the North Sea ; from thence 
 to Vancouver to the Scandinavian Railway, or by the 
 Suez Canal ; from thence to the Ockland Isle.' 
 
 ' The Greatest Widower ' is the title of a genuine 
 essay of a boy in a Cardiff Board School : ' King 
 Henry VIII. was the greatest widower that ever 
 lived. He was born at Anno Domine in the year 
 1066. He had 510 wives, besides children. The 
 first was beheaded and executed. The second was 
 revoked. She never smiled again (!) but she said the 
 word Calais would be found on her heart immediately 
 after death. The greatest man in this reign was Lord 
 Sir Garnet Wolsey. He was sir-named the Boy 
 Bachelor. He was born at the age of fifteen un- 
 married. Henry 8 was succeeded on the throne by 
 his great-grandmother, the beautiful and accomplished
 
 54 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Mary, Queen of Scots, sometimes known as the Lady 
 of the Lake, or the Lay of the Last Minstrel.' 
 
 The following is too good to be lost. It was 
 written from dictation at a Government inspection of a 
 North of England school. I give it exactly as the 
 boy wrote it. Subject : Cowper's well-known poem, 
 ' I am Monarch of all I Survey.' ' I ham monac of 
 hall I searve, there is none heare my rite to dispute 
 from the senter hall round to the sea I ham lord of 
 the fouls to the brute. All shoshitude ware are the 
 charmes that sages have seen in thy face, better dewel 
 in the miste of a larmes than in this horrible place. I 
 am now of unity reach, i must finish my jurney a lone, 
 never hear the swete music of speach, i start at the 
 sound of my hone. The Beasts that rome over the 
 plane my forme with indifrence see, they are so uncent 
 with men, tameness is shocking to me.' 
 
 It has been said that, were Shakespeare alive, he 
 would not recognise his own writings. I very much 
 doubt that Cowper would recognise his ! Yet where 
 does the fault lie, with the master or with the boys ? 
 
 One cannot recall boyho'od and school-days without 
 thinking of and recalling punishment, whether in the 
 form of corporal or of ' impositions,' both very dis- 
 tasteful to boys, while affecting them differently. I can 
 speak on this matter from some experience, from a 
 whipping in the nursery down to the latest recollection 
 of being put into ' zee corner.' I am familiar with 
 the hard ferrule on the tips of your fingers on a 
 cold morning — a most cruel punishment, seeing you 
 might be maimed for life. I have had several tastes 
 of the cane on the hand — which has always seemed to 
 me senseless, as it prevented your writing, and was
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 55 
 
 possibly brutal, if the master delighted in trying to hit 
 the lower part of your thumb. The tawse is painful, 
 but relieved if you can immediately grasp something 
 cold. An imposition, writing out five or six hundred 
 lines of Virgil or Ovid, is very irksome. Besides 
 giving you a lifelong aversion to those two famous 
 writers of the past, it debars you from the pleasures of 
 a half-holiday in sunny playgrounds or country walks. 
 A boy would rather suffer bodily pain, I think, than 
 the privation of his holiday. I have, somehow, been 
 exempt from the * block,' 
 
 It is told that schoolmasters, hearing of the advance- 
 ment and promotion of a former pupil, even to the 
 Bench of Bishops, have said, and with great satis 
 faction : ' Yes, I remember well birching him.' The 
 name of Keate is an ' outstanding ' name in connec- 
 tion with this form of corporal punishment. One 
 cannot hope to tell any anecdote about him that 
 would not be called an ' old chestnut.' Many will 
 have heard how he ruled his school with a rod, not of 
 iron, but of twigs. Keate's birch was as inseparable 
 from him as his character. ' Blessed are the pure in 
 heart,' he is said to have said with fiery glance to a 
 little boy ; ' mind that ! It is your duty to be pure in 
 heart. If you are not pure in heart, I will flog you !' 
 Curious interpretation of the Sermon on the Mount! 
 At another time, when a whole division was threatened 
 with punishment and had made up its mind to resist, 
 Keate solved the difficulty by sending the respective 
 tutors to bring the boys to him at night out of bed, 
 and flogged eighty of them, one by one, ' from dewy 
 eve until morn.' To my mind, the most amusing 
 of many anecdotes is of Keate finding on his desk the
 
 56 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 list of Confirmation candidates. It was on a slip of 
 paper like that used for the ' bill ' which usually con- 
 tained the names of the 'condemnati.' To the astonish- 
 ment of the catechumens, he flogged them all, laying 
 on the strokes all the more heavily on the ground that 
 the boys were setting up a most irreverent plea to 
 evade deserved punishment. I very much doubt if 
 many catechumens presented themselves next year, if 
 this was part of * Preparation for Confirmation.' I 
 was once asked by a young man if he could be con- 
 firmed a second time. I am quite satisfied he was 
 not one of that unfortunate list. 
 
 Did this system of birching on any and every occa- 
 sion repress a spirit of rebellion, or did it not create 
 and foster it ? Does corporal punishment really make 
 a boy a better boy ? Is it not allowed that flogging in 
 the army is brutalizing ? I can understand that the 
 ! cat ' may be a wholesome deterrent for ' garrotters ' 
 and ' Hooligans.' That men who can kick or throttle 
 another to death, utterly indifferent to their ravage 
 assaults and the pain they inflict, should themselves 
 suffer in the flesh is intelligible. There is no doubt 
 that flogging stopped garrotting, for ' garrotters ' 
 and ' Hooligans' are, as 'a rule, great cowards. They 
 will go to prison and to hard labour without evincing 
 emotion, but when the sentence is accompanied ' with 
 twelve or twenty-four strokes of the cat,' they whimper 
 and whine. The birch, a very formidable instrument 
 of torture in our prisons, is as dreaded by the younger 
 criminals as it is salutary in its effects. I can under- 
 stand severe punishment for stealing at school. In 
 some cases, for example's sake, corporal punishment 
 may be necessary, but surely expulsion would be more
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 57 
 
 effective. But ought you to be caned or birched for 
 ignorance ? Ought a boy to suffer in body for indo- 
 lence or forgetfulness, for not ' doing his lessons,' 
 which are not either vicious or criminal offences ? I 
 for one doubt that caning or flogging does any real or 
 lasting good. It sets up at once a barrier between you 
 and your master. There is a gulf of separation that is 
 not bridged over. You can never feel the same 
 towards your master if once you have suffered condign 
 punishment at his hands, even though you write home 
 as a boy wrote home : ' Temple is a brute, but he is a 
 just brute.' An imposition does not, I think, create 
 the same feeling towards your master as caning does. 
 I cannot also understand 'caning in cold blood.' I can 
 understand that no master, if irritated, should administer 
 the cane under strong irritation. It might be excessive. 
 There are in some schools caning days, like washing 
 days in the week, or days when your study is ' turned 
 out.' 
 
 I know that good and excellent masters justify 
 this special Saturday function on the ground that 
 punishment is inflicted when he is, as it were, 'iced.' 
 But the immediate occasion is past, even though the 
 offence be not ceased. I suppose a strong sense of 
 duty and of the need of discipline reconciles masters to 
 punishing in cold blood. I wonder what the boy's 
 view of it was when a Scotch master said : ' Noo, my 
 lad, I am aboot to inflict deserved punishment upon 
 you, but we will first kneel down in prayer.' It is said 
 of Bishop Phillpotts of Exeter that when he had occa- 
 sion to reprove a clergyman in his diocese he used to 
 say: 'Let us pray together.' The unsuspecting clergy- 
 man knelt down, fully appreciating the Bishop's devo-
 
 58 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 tional spirit. The Bishop soon let the clergyman 
 know, from the general nature of his supplication, what 
 he thought of him. There could not well be any 
 remonstrance on the clergyman's part when on his 
 knees ! 
 I There is an idea often set forth in pulpits and in 
 books of devotion that pain sanctifies. Pain may 
 possibly chasten, humble, make us feel acutely this 
 ' body of humiliation,' but how can physical suffering, 
 in the nature of things, sanctify my nature ? The 
 Holy Ghost sanctifies. Of severe sickness it is true 
 ' this sickness is not unto death, but that the Son of 
 God may be glorified thereby.' Who that has suffered 
 exquisite suffering from some one or other of the more 
 ' / /' agonizing forms of pain can say it has made them 
 ^7 " holier ? Is it not during the pain, in its sharpness, 
 "^^j^^ persistence, unremitting continuance, that you are least 
 • ,^ disposed to pray, to read the word of God, or bear 
 'tA£'s/pi>'tlii]|eing read to? Deep as is the mystery of pain and 
 suffering, and true as it is that we ' fill up in our body 
 of the suffering of Christ,' that there is in one sense a 
 union with Him in suffering, yet if you say or teach 
 that pain sanctifies rather than corrects, it seems to me 
 that you relegate to pain, as pain, what is the special 
 work of Him ' who sanctifieth me and all the elect 
 people of God.' Is it right and scriptural always and 
 in every case to say that pain and suffering are punish- 
 ments, and not part of that loving discipline by which 
 God would make us great ? ' It is good for me that I 
 have been in trouble, that I may learn Thy statutes.' 
 May you not defeat the purpose of sickness or suffer- 
 ing by representing to one of holy and consecrated 
 life, full of faith and good works, that ' this suffering
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 59 
 
 which you are called upon to undergo is a token of 
 God's anger and displeasure,' and thus make a heart 
 sad which God would not have made sad ? I recall 
 
 visiting Lord on his death-bed in London. He 
 
 was dying of an incurable malady, and was in great 
 suffering. As I entered the room he said : ' Before 
 you speak to me, let me first ask you a question. 
 Are you one of those who teach that God hates me, 
 and has laid upon me this fatal and painful malady 
 because of His displeasure ? If so, you have no need 
 to remain. I did not bring myself into the world, and 
 surely a father loves his offspring.-^' My answer may 
 be surmised, and I visited him until he entered that 
 state ' where there is no more pain.' 
 
 I could wish that at some conference of head- 
 masters this subject would be dispassionately and 
 thoughtfully discussed, and that they to whom child- 
 life is entrusted would consider this whole question of 
 corporal punishment. 
 
 Should what I am writing be read by father or 
 mother, looking back as I do on life from boyhood 
 days over the vista of now threescore years and ten, I 
 should be inclined to say that the deau id^al of 
 school-life, so far and so long as it could be, would be 
 to combine all the advantages of school, its discipline, 
 its roughing it with other boys, its training for a yet 
 larger world, with the protective care, amenities, and 
 love of home-life. There a boy is sheltered from, safe- 
 guarded against, much from which he specially needs 
 safeguarding. The love of mother, so potential, so 
 strong, so unfailing ; the wise counsel of father, 
 especially if he be, in the best sense, a ' man of the 
 world'; the gentle influence of a pure-minded sister.
 
 6o ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 environ him with a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar 
 of fire by night. In these days of such marked in- 
 dependence of youth, and impatience of restraint, there 
 would be the almost unfelt pressure of the conditions 
 of home-life, as against the enforced rule of schools. 
 The reverence and respect of child for parent, slowly 
 dying out, is more likely to be fostered and deserved, 
 and that honourinof of father and mother which is ' the 
 first commandment with promise ' would be more likely 
 to be obeyed. In such combining of home and school 
 you ought to find that true and real training which 
 would equip the boy when, with many prayers and not 
 a few falling tears, he leaves the old nest for Univer- 
 sity life, or for what awaits him, known or unguessed, 
 in the great world before him. It is at home, surely, 
 that both by lip and life the foundation of true, prac- 
 tical religion should be laid deep and strong, as 
 cannot, I venture to think, be done in ordinary school- 
 life. A boy should not have to pick up religion 
 anyhow and anywhere, and to go forth into the world 
 without definite teaching of those truths ' which 
 accompany salvation.' He should not have to say in 
 after-life, as some exCuse for or justification of 
 irreligion, or selfishness, or worldliness : ' I learnt, was 
 taught, nothing at home of religion.' ' Do not sin 
 against the child ' might be inscribed over the door of 
 every nursery. The first thought, the uppermost 
 desire, of parents should be that their child should, 
 so far as lies in their power, be 'a child of God,' con- 
 secrated from his youth, used of God in his manhood. 
 We do not believe, as we ought to believe, in the 
 possibilities of early conversion and of early consecra- 
 tion. We would look less for ' conversion ' in later
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 6i 
 
 years if we encouraged children to believe in, and to 
 act more directly and immediately on, the ' motions,' 
 inspirations, and suggestions of the Holy Spirit, the 
 great baptismal gift, and to look for the sealing of the 
 Spirit on the day of Confirmation. 
 
 For my part, I believe that we should have a con- 
 stant and adequate supply of candidates for Holy 
 Orders if parents, praying more faithfully for their 
 boys, watching carefully any and every indication of 
 the ' motions ' of the Holy Ghost, dedicated their 
 child to God. In olden times the first-born male was 
 dedicated to God. Is there such dedication now ? 
 At Congresses, Conferences, in Convocation, this 
 * scarcity of candidates for Holy Orders' is discussed 
 almost ad natcseam. The dearth is put down to 
 reasons which I do not believe to be true. Some of 
 these reasons our young men themselves would, and 
 rightly, be the first to repudiate and even resent. It 
 may be that the real reason lies further back, must be 
 looked for and found in parents who, in their ambi- 
 tions for their children, lose sight of the higher and 
 holiest which life can satisfy. We want consecrated 
 childhood, sanctified boyhood, and then there need be 
 no fear that a boy would grow up precocious, unnatural, 
 in many respects unlike other boys. Some of the best, 
 who have had the most influence over others whom 
 I have known, were the most full of fun and even of 
 mischief. They were not men before their time, but 
 children while childhood lasted. When one holds up 
 the mirror, and in imagination tries to recall their 
 bright, happy faces, expressive of the pure, innocent, 
 and careless days of boyhood life, one feels thankful 
 to God for the specimens we have seen and can
 
 IPHHH 
 
 62 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 recall of what might be far more common. While we 
 say ' boys will be boys,' and even in later life, shaking 
 hands, say, ' How are you, old boy ?' we feel that there is 
 nothing inconsistent with personal piety, nothing con- 
 trary to the spirit and genius of our most holy faith, 
 in that which, while not looked for in more mature 
 life, belongs to a natural and happy boyhood. 
 
 A BOY'S CONSECRATION HYMN. 
 
 ' Just as I am. Thine own to be. 
 Friend of the young, who lovest me. 
 To consecrate myself to Thee, 
 O Jesus Christ, I come. 
 
 ' In the glad morning of my day, 
 
 My life to give, my vows to pay, 
 
 With no reserve, and no delay — 
 
 With all my heart, I come. 
 
 * I would live ever in the light, 
 I would work ever for the right, 
 I would serve Thee with all my might — 
 Therefore to Thee I come. 
 
 ' Just as I am, young, strong, and free, 
 To be the best that I can be, 
 For truth, and righteousness, and Thee, 
 Lord pf my life, I come. 
 
 ' With many dreams of fame and gold. 
 Success and joy to make me bold ; 
 But, dearer still — my faith to hold 
 For my whole life — I come. 
 
 ' And for Thy sake to win renown. 
 And then to take the victor's crown 
 And at Thy feet to lay it down, 
 O Master, Lord, I come.'
 
 BOYHOOD AND SCHOOLBOY LIFE 63 
 
 BOOKS FROM A BOY'S LIBRARY. 
 
 {Referred to on p. 48.) 
 
 Insects at Home : Wood. 
 
 Our Country Birds : W. J. Gordon. 
 
 Our Country Butterflies and Moths : Gordon. 
 
 British Birds, Eggs, and Nests : J. C. Atkinson. 
 
 Nature Studies : Proctor. 
 
 Country Pastimes for Boys : Anderson Graham. 
 
 The Common Moths of England : T. S. Wood. 
 
 British Butterflies : Coleman. 
 
 Ants, Bees, Dragon-flies, etc. : W. H. Bath. 
 
 The Lepidopterist's Guide : Knapps. 
 
 Common Objects of the Country : Wood. 
 
 The Outdoor World : Furneaux. 
 
 The Amateur Poacher:" Author of 'The Gamekeeper at Home.' 
 
 Woodland, Moor, and Stream — Beetles. 
 
 Butterflies, Moths, and other Insects : Kappel and Kirby. 
 
 British Flora : Hooker and Arnott. 
 
 Handy Book of the Flower-Garden : Thomson. 
 
 Beauties and W' onders of Vegetable Life. 
 
 Popular Field Botany : Caltock. 
 
 Flowers of the Field : Johns. 
 
 British Ferns and their Allies : Moore. 
 
 Every Man his own Gardener : Mabbs. 
 
 Manual of British Botany : Babington. 
 
 Familiar Wild Flowers (5 vols.) : Hulme. 
 
 * The old Adam, which is deceitful according to the lusts, breaks 
 out here !
 
 CHAPTER I II 
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 
 
 Having devoted one chapter in ' Odds and Ends ' to 
 child-life, one is led on, in connection with the training 
 and equipment of a child for its future and fuller life, 
 and in view of its possibilities for good or ill, to think 
 of religion as the most important factor, and to con- 
 sider what are the influences of a definite religious 
 character which are brought to bear on a child at, 
 unquestionably, its most favourable and impressionable 
 season. You can train the tender sapling ; you cannot 
 train the knotted oak. The raw material in childhood 
 is like pith, soft and pliable. It has not yet hardened 
 into wood. Creeping plants, untended, grow wild and 
 out of bounds ; they may be so manipulated as to 
 become festoons of beauty. Nature universally takes 
 especial care of its buds. It does not bestow the same 
 care on fruit and blossom. We guard our young, 
 newly-planted slips with fences ; we do not fence 
 round the oak and elm of centuries' growth. The 
 mind of a child is a tabula rasa. Durinsf the first 
 stage of its existence, until dawning consciousness and 
 receptivity, nothing, probably, is written upon it. We 
 retain our first impressions throughout our life. They 
 seem to be indelible, and to recur to us like the writing 
 with sympathetic, invisible ink, which when held to the 
 
 [64]
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 65 
 
 fire comes out. It is a remarkable and confessed fact 
 in connection with the faculty of memory that, as we 
 grow older, we for the most part forget what we did 
 last week ; but few are utterly oblivious of the scenes 
 and impressions of nursery and childhood days. ■ Is it 
 not remarkable that not infrequently the features and 
 lineaments of childhood are to be discerned in the face 
 of the dead, who have lived even to gray hairs ? I am 
 reminded of ' palimpsests,' ancient parchments to be 
 seen in our museums, on which a chapter of the Holy 
 Gospels was first written, and, because parchment was 
 dear, were used again, and even thrice, like crossing and 
 recrossing a letter ; it may have been for a portion ot 
 the Classics, etc. Our scholars have been able to 
 efface the portions of classic writers, to expose and 
 bring to light that which was first written on the parch- 
 ment. ' What youth learns,' says the proverb, ' age 
 doth not forget.' 
 
 * Learn young, learn fair, 
 Learn old, learn sair.' 
 
 Can we exaggerate or lay too great stress on the 
 value and importance of first associations, earliest 
 impressions, as abiding and uneffaceable ? 
 
 ' Childhood shows the man 
 As morning shows the day.' 
 
 I am trying to persuade the publisher to reprint a 
 small manual of devotion, ' Steps Heavenward.' It 
 is a charming and simple collection of prayers and 
 hymns for children's use. It was compiled by a 
 mother in response to her children's request, when they 
 came to have children of their own. In later life of 
 motherhood they so remembered their own earliest 
 
 5
 
 66 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 lessons in religion at their mother's knee (the best kind 
 of 'mother's meeting' in the world), that they desired 
 to ' teach their children the same.' 
 
 This is only one of many illustrations which might 
 be given of the far-reaching effect of what childhood 
 receives and retains. If in that susceptible, impression- 
 able season of seed sowing, which comes not again, 
 what we understand by religion, its necessary rudi- 
 ments — if the 'first principles' be so presented to a 
 child's mind that it shall not be distasteful nor unpalat- 
 able, with such associations as are bright and not dull, 
 which fascinate and do not estrange, which woo and 
 do not repel, we may reasonably hope that, fostered by 
 wise ways, and, above all, by cherishing the ' motions ' 
 of God's good Spirit, the seed sown will take root 
 downwards and bear fruit upwards. The tender plant 
 will, advance in growth, ' first the blade, then the ear, 
 then the full corn in the ear,' and having taken root in 
 a kindly soil, will weather out all the evil influen,ces 
 antagonistic to its life. It is quite true that we must 
 not be oversanguine. ' What manner of child shall this 
 be ?' is a question that cannot but come to the front as 
 parents look on the face of tTieir new-born child. It is 
 Coleridge who writes : 
 
 ' 'Tis aye a solemn thing to me 
 To looki upon a babe that sleeps, 
 Wearing in its spirit deep 
 The unrevealed mystery 
 Of its Adam's taint and woe, 
 Which when they revealed lie 
 Will not let it slumber so.' 
 
 You cannot hand down piety to your children as you 
 would hand down some heirloom. People often ex-
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 67 
 
 press unfeigned surprise that the children of parents, 
 ' both righteous before God, walking in all the com- 
 mandments of the Lord ' themselves, should in some 
 f notable cases have turned out so ill/ ' With all our •— --* 
 belief in Heredity, the transmission from generation to J //)i i 
 
 generation of characteristic traits, virtues, vices, habits, r*"^^^ 
 tendencies, etc., we must not ignore the factor of free- ^ ^ ^ 
 will, which cannot but modify and restrict the fact and^'' 
 limitations of Heredity. I am always reminded, when 
 I hear the remark alluded to made, of quaint Fuller, in 
 his ' Good Thougrhts for Bad Times.' ' Lord ! I find 
 the genealogy of my Saviour strangely chequered. 
 Roboam begat Abia — i.e., a bad father begat a bad 
 son. Abia begat Asa, a good father and a good son. 
 Asa begat Jehoshaphat, a good father and a bad son. 
 Jehoshaphat begat Josiah, a good father and a good son. 
 I see. Lord, from hence that my father's piety cannot 
 be entailed : that is bad news for me. But I see also 
 that actual impiety is not always hereditary : that is 
 good news for my son.' — """^ 
 
 Whatever views may be held on the subject of 
 Heredity, one which is exciting considerable attention 
 in connection with criminal tendencies, and is being 
 taken more into account by magistrates and judges in 
 dealing with first offenders, we come back to this : that 
 much, from the very nature of things, depends on the 
 first and earliest impressions made on a child's mind. 
 Children begin very soon to think. Witness the 
 questions they sometimes put, not always easy to 
 answer ! They are quick to observe and to imitate. 
 They are always learning by eye and ear, by lip and 
 life. Like Medusae in the sea, in their gelatinous 
 condition, they are ever putting forth their tentacles to 
 
 5—2 
 
 L
 
 68 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 grasp something. If the Chinese cramp up cruelly the 
 growing feet of their children and maim them for life, 
 not so cruelly, but perhaps for all the life long, we may 
 ' sin against the child.' Mirabeau was asked which was 
 the best way of teaching popular liberty. His reply 
 was : ' Begin with the infant in the cradle, and let the 
 first name on its lips be Washington.' Mirabeau set, 
 by this reply, great store on first impressions and 
 earliest lessons. We, as a Christian people, would 
 say, if asked the best way of teaching popular religion : 
 * Begin with the infant in the cradle, and let the first 
 name on its lips be God the Father, God the Son, and 
 God the Holy Ghost.' We must not play tricks or try 
 experiments with child-life. There is something else 
 and more for them to learn than the ' Three R's.' Are 
 there not other ' Three R's ' ? ' Ruin by the Fall, 
 Redemption by Christ, Regeneration and Renewal by 
 the Holy Ghost.' Tricks are played by way of 
 experiment on plants, invariably to the plant's harm. 
 In France elaborate investigation has recently been 
 made of the effect of placing plants under differently- 
 coloured bell glasses — e.g., blue, green, and red. Sub- 
 jected to blue, the plar^t is dwarfed in its growth ; to 
 green, it is at the loss of leaf; to red, the plant is 
 pronounced ' precocious.' For its healthy growth a 
 plant needs what God intended it should have, sun- 
 light, the complete, undivided prism of light. 
 
 Rousseau's theory was ' develop nature,' The 
 French Revolution was the answer to that theory. 
 ' Inculcate,' says another, ' the moral idea of duty.' 
 That does not touch the spiritual element in our 
 tripartite nature. ' Discard dogmas and creeds,' says 
 another. There is truth in all forms of religious
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 69 
 
 belief. The whole truth is in no one. Place at the 
 service of your children a kind of Liebig's essence, or 
 olla podrida, of different beliefs and schools of thought. 
 Religion must be eclectic, and not dogmatic. And yet 
 what department of knowledge is without its creed ? 
 The artist has his rules of art. The mathematician or 
 professor recognises ascertained ' data.' The musician 
 does not attempt to ignore the laws of harmony. 
 As well might you ask for sunlight without a sun as 
 religion without a creed. It is told of a sergeant in 
 the army giving orders for a parade service : ' Church 
 of England, 10.30; Roman Catholic, 11.30; "Fancy 
 Religions " after these.' 
 
 ' Fancy religions,' undenominational forms of faith, 
 can never represent the whole * truth as it is in Jesus.' 
 Whatever we, as a nation, may desire for our children 
 from a secular point of view to equip them for the 
 duties and rivalries of life, secular education must be 
 tempered with definite religious teaching. We may 
 take a lesson from our foundries. As the molten metal 
 from the furnace pours forth into the moulds prepared 
 to receive and give it shape, I have, standing by, 
 noticed that a stream of water from a hose passes over 
 it. We sin against child-life if we play tricks with 
 child-nature, if we leave out of sight its spiritual nature, 
 if we do not, as soon as possible, bring to bear and 
 play upon it the special influences of our ' most holy 
 faith.' 
 
 This brings one naturally to think about Sunday- 
 schools and the Sunday-school system. The reader 
 may say : ' What do you know about them ? What 
 experience have you had } For it is curious to notice 
 how the parish priest is forgotten in the Dean.
 
 70 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Because Deans have no parochial charge beyond, as at 
 Chichester, the immediate Close, it is presumed that 
 their experience is limited to that of cathedral life. 
 A Dean is rarely consulted by his Diocesan on 
 parochial matters, and as his duties are closely 
 connected with cathedral life, he is considered as out- 
 side Diocesan and parochial work. I wonder if my 
 friends — e.g., Dean Spence of Gloucester, Dean Maclure 
 of Manchester, Dean Lefroy of Norwich, inter alios — 
 are of the same mind ? If we feel sometimes the 
 privation, because of our position, of not visiting sick 
 and dying persons, except by special permission, one 
 sometimes thinks that our long and large experience 
 of parochial work might be more utilized by both 
 Diocesan and parochial clergy than it is. 
 
 I had a small Sunday-school — * the day of small 
 things,' not to be despised — in my first curacy of ninety 
 souls 'all told.' In Paris I had a considerable number 
 of English children, gathered from all parts of Paris. 
 In London I had a few in my Sunday-school who met 
 in the topmost gallery of St. Philip's, Regent Street, 
 where I erected a small organ. The children of parents 
 living in the streets adjoining and in neighbouring 
 mews were taught by the assistants at Marshall and 
 Snelgrove's. At Doncaster I began to have to do with 
 those large Sunday-schools which are such a feature 
 in Yorkshire and Lancashire, the scholars numbering 
 about 600. At Halifax we had 1,200 children in our 
 school, and a small army of devoted teachers. It would 
 be difficult to mention anything which is suggested or 
 attempted for the improvement and efficiency of Sunday- 
 schools which was not welcomed and tried at Halifax. 
 Teachers' meetings ; special addresses by men of
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 71 
 
 experience ; lessons in teaching ; classes for teachers ; 
 and so forth. Not the least of my happy recollections 
 is the being frequently asked to address Sunday-school 
 teachers, as I have done at the great annual gathering 
 in Exeter Hall, or in some church where many from 
 different parishes have attended a ' special service.' 
 So that I think I may say, with Dean Spence and his 
 2,000 scholars at St. Pancras, London, and Dean 
 Maclure with his scholars at Rochdale, that I have had 
 some experience of, and ought to have something to 
 say on, this important subject ! 
 
 I shall confine myself to the Sunday-schools from a 
 parochial point of view, and as having generally to do 
 with the poorer classes. Were it not that it would be 
 a step towards relieving the well-to-do classes of all 
 responsibility of giving religious instruction to their 
 own children, not a few think that we want Sunday- 
 schools for the children of the ' upper classes.' The 
 ignorance of the ' upper ten thousand ' and of well-to- 
 do parents of the Bible and its history, of the history 
 of the Church and its Creed, of the history of the 
 Prayer-Book, is as lamentable as it is astounding. I 
 suppose it is thought not to be their province or 
 mHier to instruct their children in religious know- 
 ledge and in what are its 'first principles.' The 
 consequence is that a very considerable number of 
 children are brought up without any very definite 
 views, and our public schools can hardly be said to 
 supplement this defect. 
 
 I must not give names, though withholding them to 
 a certain extent robs the story of its ' point,' but I 
 vouch for the accuracy and fact of what I am about to 
 tell. It is quite on a par with a story I have told else-
 
 72 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 where about Hymns Ancient and Modern, red edges, 
 etc. We had a public luncheon at a particular college 
 at which I was present. Our President was a ' noble 
 lord.' He said in his speech at the luncheon that his 
 pleasure in revisiting the scenes of his boyhood was 
 greatly enhanced by having travelled down from 
 London in company with the greatest of living his- 
 torians. ' The greatest of living historians,' in reply 
 to a call for a speech, said he ' could reciprocate the 
 kind utterances of the President, for it had been a 
 great privilege to travel with the Melchisedech of this 
 particular school.' 
 
 The President looked somewhat puzzled and sur- 
 prised at being called Melchisedech. I said to Pro- 
 fessor X., who sat next to me : 
 
 ' You have been guilty of a lapis lazulce, as some- 
 one , said for lapsus Ungues. You surely meant 
 Methuselah — that would have made out our Presi- 
 dent to be a thousand years old, which I am persuaded 
 from his general appearance he can scarcely be.' 
 
 ' Of course,' said Professor X., ' I meant Methuselah ; 
 but do not tell anyone of my what you call lapis 
 lazulcB.'' 
 
 ' It is too good,' I replied, 'to be lost to the world, 
 especially as you have been introduced as the " greatest 
 living historian." I advise you to read up your Old 
 Testament history, where you will find the difference 
 between Methuselah and Melchisedech.' 
 
 After luncheon Lord X., evidently having not 
 yet recovered from his bewilderment, called me 
 to him. 
 
 ' Who, Dean, did the Professor say I was ?' 
 
 ' He said your lordship was Melchisedech.'
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 
 
 /J 
 
 * Melchisedech ! Melchisedech ! Who on earth is 
 Melchisedech ?' 
 
 ' Well, my lord,' I replied, ' I venture to give you 
 much the same advice that I have given our great 
 historian — that you should look up your Old Testa- 
 ment history,' 
 
 ' Oh, never mind that. Dean, but do tell me some- 
 thing about Melchisedech, lest he should call me that 
 name again.' 
 
 ' Do you remember,' I said, ' what is said of him — 
 "without father, without mother, without descent " ?' 
 
 ' What ! what ! No pedigree ?' 
 
 There our conversation and my futile attempts at 
 enlightenment abruptly ended. 
 
 Instances to the same effect might be multiplied. 
 Not infrequently on a Sunday evening in a country 
 house I have been asked to give a few questions in 
 the Bible and Prayer-Book. I have soon noticed that 
 general regret prevailed at such a request having been 
 made. Do we not all know the confused and somewhat 
 abashed look of people who are beating their brains to 
 give a reply to some ' poser ' ? 
 
 I was asked, when visiting a school in New York, to 
 examine the girls in arithmetic. I asked them to 
 write down hi figzires : Eleven thousand eleven 
 hundred and eleven. Not one could do it. Another 
 question, with the same result : 'If one hundred 
 hurdles will enclose one hundred sheep, what is the 
 least number of hurdles that will enclose two hundred 
 sheep ?' I proceeded to ask them to write : One 
 hundred in nines. Not one could do it. I said : ' I 
 will give you something simple. What are eggs a 
 dozen when two more in the shilling's-worth reduces
 
 74 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 the original price of the eggs by a penny a dozen ?' 
 The girls were aghast. I said : * Let me give you some- 
 thing still more simple : If there are more cows in the 
 world than hairs on any one cow's tail, it follows, as a 
 matter of course, that two cows in the world must have 
 the same number of hairs on their tails. Do you see 
 why ?' I felt a hand on my shoulder. The mistress, 
 much overcome at her inability to answer these 
 extremely simple questions, said : ' Would you, sir, 
 change the subject, and examine my girls in 
 geography ?' After my own reply in Edinburgh, 
 when, asked where the Bosphorus was, I said, ' On 
 the coast of Sussex,' I declined the mistress's request. 
 
 But, seriously and ad rem, whoever originated 
 our Sunday-school system, Robert Raikes of Glou- 
 cester, or Charles Borromeo, nephew of Pope Pius V., 
 or Joseph Alleine of Taunton, or others credited with 
 it, Robert Raikes must, in all fairness, be credited, as 
 his biographer says, ' with having raised Sunday- 
 school teaching from a fortuitous rarity into a universal 
 system. He found the practice local ; he made it 
 national' He found in the^ city of Gloucester what 
 is to be met with in all cities, towns, and villages : 
 The streets were full every Sunday of noise and dis- 
 turbance. The churches were entirely unfrequented 
 by the poorer sort of children, and very ill-attended by 
 their parents. It occurred to Raikes that ' infinite 
 would be the benefit, as well to the community as to 
 themselves, if any method could be contrived of bring- 
 ing them under some proper restraint and instilling 
 some good principles in their minds.' 
 
 Out of all this blossomed, and in time bore fruit, 
 like the mustard seed, ' which indeed is the least of
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 75 
 
 all seeds, but when it is grown up is the greatest of 
 all herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of 
 the air come and lodg-e in the branches thereof — 
 out of this ' day of small things, 'the number at first 
 small, but the increase rapid, the Sunday-school has 
 become a recognised and integral part of Church life 
 and work, and with every religious community part of 
 the Church's ministration and effort. Nonconformists 
 strain every nerve to compete, if I may so say, with 
 the Church of England in what is felt by both alike to 
 be the nursery of their future recognised membership. 
 Scholars are to be counted by millions, teachers by 
 thousands. Sunday-schools have such centres as the 
 Church Institute in the Old Bailey. They have a vast 
 and even necessary literature of their own. The 
 ramifications of their central societies extend their 
 feelers to all parts of the civilized world. The system 
 is coterminous with Christianity. The Church has 
 accepted and regarded as a most sacred trust the 
 injunction of our Lord, whose tender love of children 
 has raised childhood into a sacredness it had not 
 before : ' Suffer little children to come unto Me, and 
 forbid them not : for of such is the kingdom oi 
 heaven.' ' Their angels do always behold the face 
 of My Father which is in heaven.' 
 
 It is not uncommon to hear it said that ' Sunday- 
 schools are a necessary evil.' By this, I presume, is 
 meant that it is not well, where it can be avoided, to 
 relieve parents of their own and first responsibility. 
 In theory this may be true. But does not the remark 
 apply to rich as well as to poor ? How many parents 
 in the ' upper classes ' of society relegate to tutor or 
 governess the religious teaching of their children ?
 
 76 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Again, the parents of our poorer classes are themselves 
 too hopelessly ignorant to teach their children. Rare, 
 indeed, would be the instance of a working-man, 
 artisan, dock labourer, instructing his own children 
 on a Sunday. Equally rare would it be to hear of the 
 wife of any such giving their children what they are 
 presumed to learn in Sunday-school. What teaching 
 could the poor bereaved woman give who, when her 
 clergyman was endeavouring to console her on the 
 loss of her boy, said, * Ah, sir, I am happy to think 
 my dear lad is safe in the arms of Beelzebub ' ? Again, 
 who of any experience of parochial work is not well 
 aware that, but for Sunday-schools, the ' rising gene- 
 ration ' would receive little or no religious instruction ? 
 It is not obligatory in the Board Schools. It is 
 regarded in too many Board Schools as of secondary 
 importance. The parents, as a rule, of our poorer 
 classes are absolutely indifferent as to whether their 
 children go to church or chapel, so long as they can 
 lie longer in bed on Sunday and get rid of their 
 troublesome presence. Only a few weeks ago a 
 decent, well-spoken mother in a parish of which I took 
 temporary charge in the country said to me, the school 
 having been closed throughout August : ' I shall be 
 glad, sir, when the Sunday-school is open again, as I 
 know then that my children are out of mischief.'' I 
 could not help saying to her, ' Is that the only reason 
 why you wish the Sunday-school re-opened ?' 
 
 Ill, indeed, would it fare with the ' lambs ' of Christ's 
 flock if they were not 'shepherded,' and were left to 
 the ignorance, indifference, and neglect of their 
 parents ! 
 
 So, even if Sunday-schools be, in the judgment of
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 77 
 
 some, 'a necessary evil,' we must hope that out of this 
 evil good may come. 
 
 Meanwhile we may ask : ' Are Sunday-schools 
 really and truly doing what is rightly expected ot 
 them ?' 
 
 It is often said by those who go so far as to say the 
 Sunday-school system is ' rotten at the core ' that he 
 would be a bold man who attacked or brought an ' evil 
 accusation ' against our Sunday-schools. One clergy- 
 man — I think it was the Rector of Hawarden — some 
 years ago delivered his mind, and brought down on 
 his devoted head a torrent of abuse. Why cannot 
 men give utterance to their honest convictions, and 
 openly express their misgivings on so important a 
 subject as this, without exciting acrimony and incur- 
 ring such abuse ? There can be but one object in 
 questioning the soundness of our Sunday-school or 
 any other system, and that is to strengthen what is 
 weak and remedy what may be found wanting. 
 
 Is there a clergyman in the Church of England 
 who, honestly and without reservation, is satisfied 
 about his Sunday-schools ? I have, in a large experi- 
 ence, never yet met with one. It may be said : 
 ' Is there any clergyman satisfied with his Confirma- 
 tion candidates, his district visitors, his ministry in 
 general ?' The answer would be ' No !' But when 
 you consider the special characteristics of child-life, 
 the impressionable nature of a child's mind, ' soft like 
 wax to receive, not hard like marble to retain,' the 
 golden opportunity never recurring ; the enormous 
 amount of time, expenditure of voluntary help, spent 
 on Sunday-schools, is the result at all in proportion to, 
 commensurate with, all this toil and self-denying effort ?
 
 78 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 How are we to account for the hundreds and thousands 
 of children who have been Sunday scholars who, 
 when they consider themselves too old to go to 
 Sunday-school, join that increasing company of young 
 men and women who go to no place of worship ? We 
 are informed, and on good authority, that in our city 
 of Bristol between 30,000 and 40,000 young people 
 of both sexes attend no place of worship ! Look at 
 our streets on a Sunday evening if we would realize 
 the leakage. 
 
 It is true that in Lancashire and the West Riding of 
 Yorkshire we have classes of adults, of married men 
 and women. This, I am persuaded, is in part accounted 
 for by the fact that in their childhood days Sunday- 
 schools were made the occasion of elementary teach- 
 ing in reading, and a certain affection towards the 
 Sunday-school is entertained because of what was 
 learnt before education became compulsory. 
 
 Prison chaplains bear rueful testimony to the admis- 
 sion within prison walls of a considerable number of 
 criminals who have been Sunday scholars. The 
 following statement corroborates what I say : 
 
 ' At a meeting of fallen wumen at the Town Hall, 
 Manchester, to the number of 200, a week ago, some 
 of them being questioned, they all said they had been 
 Sunday scholars. There are 3,000 fallen women in 
 Manchester ; most or all have been at Sunday-schools, 
 but when they grew up they attended neither church 
 nor chapel ' (the Bishop of Manchester, Dr. Eraser). 
 
 The Rev. Prebendary Macdonald, at the Church 
 Congress (Nottingham, 1871), says : 
 
 'The Census of 1851 showed there were 318,000 
 Sunday-school teachers, now 400,000, and yet that
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 79 
 
 nine-tenths of the working classes never went to any 
 place of worship ; most of them had been to Sunday- 
 schools.' 
 
 With whom does the fault lie ? There must be some- 
 thing radically amiss and defective in a system which 
 does not influence for good in after-life, and does not 
 keep its hold over those who at the tender, susceptible, 
 impressionable time of life were brought under special 
 religious influence. Is it that the opportunity is missed 
 or not rightly used ? Why is it that at ' Congresses ' 
 and ' Conferences ' we have the trite and yet un- 
 answered question discussed, ' How best to retain 
 those who have passed through our Sunday-schools ' ? 
 I am disposed to think that one reason is that religion 
 is not presented in a bright, winning, attractive aspect. 
 The Americans have long felt this, and they lay them- 
 selves out to make Sunday-school attractive in its 
 surroundings and accessories. Bright music, gay 
 flowers, even aviaries, are to be found in their school- 
 rooms. The method of teaching is bright, smart, 
 stirring, and, though I should not be prepared to do 
 all they do in some schools I visited in New York, is 
 there not large room for improvement in our Sunday- 
 schools? It is said that ' the largest room in the world 
 is the room for improvement.' 
 
 Picture to yourself what many of us have seen : A 
 schoolroom, familiarized to the child by its week-day 
 association, sometimes in bitter weather insufficiently 
 warmed and badly lighted ; the teachers not always 
 punctual, and often dreary and dull to the last degree 
 of endurance. Have we not seen some part of the 
 class sitting behind the teacher, so that the attention of 
 the scholars cannot be secured, and the opportunity is
 
 8o ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 utilized for child pranks and tricks even at the expense 
 of the teacher — e.g., furtive sketches of the teacher's 
 
 * up to date ' dress ? Collect or lesson said, the teacher, 
 who has not taken conscientious pains to prepare a 
 lesson, is before long reminded of the expiration of 
 time by the remark : ' Please, teacher, the time is up.' 
 
 The teacher's repertoire is as limited as that of a 
 barrel-organ. One teacher so persistently harped on 
 the parable of the barren fig-tree that a child said : 
 
 * Teacher, you are always cutting down that tree.' It 
 reminds me of the Scotch woman who heard three 
 discourses on ' Peter's wife's mother lay sick of a fever ' 
 on three successive Sundays. On the fourth Sunday 
 she was met by someone, who asked her if she was not 
 going to the kirk on the ' Sabbath Day.' She shook 
 her head, and replied : ' Na, na ; 7iot till she s either 
 better or buried /' 
 
 Some teachers have not the art or ' knack ' of teach- 
 ing. Some look so far from pleasant that a child said 
 to its mother : ' Mother, I would rather not, please, go 
 to heaven, for teacher is so cross when she speaks about 
 heaven.' How would it do to let a photographer 
 come, and, after hymn and opening prayer, ask him 
 to stand in front of the teacher and say, ' Now, miss, 
 look pleasant, please ; smile a little. I don't want that 
 stern look ; just smile' — look as if you were engaged ;' 
 and, if all this failed, were to produce \i^x fiancd' s portrait? 
 
 Again, too many teachers forget the value and help 
 of anecdote and illustration, with which to brighten up 
 a subject or to while away the time. They read a 
 story-book, which is not the purpose of a Sunday- 
 school. It is a way as facile as it is valueless of 
 getting through an hour. For all this there is really
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 8i 
 
 no excuse. One of the best teachers I ever had in an 
 infant class, which I dubbed as the ' infantry,' was 
 Miss Huntriss of HaHfax. She hit on the device of 
 selecting a child to recite a hymn to the rest. One by 
 one they took their turn, keeping the whole class of 
 * infantry ' interested. There was never a sign of 
 weariness, no yawn ill-suppressed, no shuffling feet, no 
 visible token of lack of interest. It has been said, I 
 fear, with not a little truth, that Sunday-schools are 
 opportunities for learning the latest fashions and for 
 lessons in millinery. A teacher comes, not in quiet, 
 sober garb, which does not attract, but in the latest 
 fashion of dress and toques and marvellous hats — 
 ' flower-shows ' on a small scale. Children, especially 
 girls, are quick to notice, quick to criticise, not slow to 
 emulate. ' Oh my, wasn't our teacher smart to-day !' 
 
 Pictures on the walls representing religious subjects 
 admit of considerable improvement if it be intended to 
 convey some Bible fact to a child. I have seen a 
 picture of John the Baptist's head being brought on 
 a charger. The ' charger ' being ' a horse rampant 
 violant,'and apparently beyond all control. How John 
 the Baptist's head reached its destination surpasses 
 my comprehension ! I have seen David represented 
 in his youth contending with a lion. David is more 
 like an acrobat, in silk ' blouse ' and ' fleshings.' The 
 lion was painted bltie, a rare specimen of the ' genus 
 leo '! All these and many more convey false and 
 ridiculous impressions. What child in after years 
 would not associate the daughter of Herodias' request 
 with a very troublesome war-horse, and David con- 
 tending with a lion the like of which, so far as colour- 
 ing goes, we might search for in vain at the ' Zoo ' } 
 
 6
 
 82 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 If a bugbear be made of religion ; if it be presented 
 by teachers in unattractive guise ; if the teacher be of 
 a ' sad countenance ;' if there be too much association 
 with day-school, and the discipline be too irksome ; if 
 * artistic ' representations of Bible facts be grotesque 
 and unreal, we must not be surprised if a child, not 
 won in its childhood by its earliest contact with religion, 
 acquires no appetite for what has been more bitter 
 than sweet, and, as soon as it is free to do so, ceases 
 to have care for or interest in it. 
 
 Again, while it is natural that Sunday-school 
 scholars should have some 'outing' or 'treat,' I am 
 persuaded that all this needs looking to and safe- 
 guarding. We know how attendances that were slack 
 increase as the time of the ' outino- ' draws near, how 
 even a child debates whether church or chapel gives 
 the best and most frequent treats, and has been known 
 so to manage it that it has gone to both. There 
 should be nothing of the nature of a bribe to persuade 
 a child to attend Sunday-school. Even treats are 
 overdone. Teachers, in their solicitude, ply tea and 
 cakes and buns to such an extent that one boy, asked 
 and pressed to have another bun, said in broad York- 
 shire : ' / thinks I could manage it if I stood upP I 
 heard of another boy so stuffed with cake and buns 
 that he could not only not walk, but said to his mother : 
 ' Carry me home, but do not bend me.' Of another : 
 ' Have you had a good tea ?' 'No,' laying his hand 
 on his diaphragm ; ' it doan't hurt me yet !' Considering 
 a boy's capacity, that meant considerable consumption 
 of supplies. 
 
 Is there no room and necessity for exercising 
 authority and vigilance over games ? ' Kissing in the
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS S^ 
 
 ring' is a favourite game with Sunday scholars. Is 
 this ' basement ' very seemly, considering that this 
 frequent kissing is on the part of Sunday-school 
 scholars ? We had in Yorkshire a game which I 
 disallowed. A young girl bounds as high as she can 
 upwards, the higher the better, and a young man is 
 waiting to receive her, when she descends, to his 
 'fond embrace.' I forget the name of this particular 
 form of amusement. It is easy to see how it opens 
 the door to no little 'horse-play,' and comes under the 
 category of ' all things lawful, but all things are not 
 convenient.' 
 
 What I mean to convey by this is that, in view of 
 Sunday-school woi'k and aim, distinct from day- 
 schools, having, presumably, to do with the ' things 
 which accompany salvation ' and the blossoming of 
 spiritual life, we should do all in our power, without 
 Puritanism or unreasonable restrictions, to create, 
 foster, maintain, a certain tone which is more in 
 harmony with the spiritual intent and work of a 
 Sunday-school. 
 
 But all this touches only the fringe of our subject : 
 it is ' lopping off branches.' It is not ' the axe laid at 
 the root of the tree.' It does not go deeper down to 
 the ' quick ' of the matter. Suggestions made at 
 teachers' meetings, in books and tracts whose name 
 is * legion,' and of which I have a large collection — is 
 it much more than the ' putting a piece of new 
 cloth into an old garment, or new wine into old 
 bottles 1 I doubt that even where these divers hints 
 and suo-orestions are carried out the radical defect 
 would be remedied. What is the radical defect, con- 
 fessed reluctantly by all clergy of real experience ? It 
 
 6—2
 
 84 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 must be traced for the most part to the teachers in our 
 Sunday-schools. 
 
 In some cases — e.g., remote villages, or in the poorer 
 districts of our great cities — the parish priest is * driven 
 hard.' He must enlist into this special work almost 
 anyone he can get, without inquiry into their capability 
 or spirituality. The voluntary help is kindly offered, 
 and often at no little self-denial — give the teacher all 
 credit for that — but there is a ' zeal without knowledge.' 
 The teacher in many such cases needs to be ' taught 
 of God.' There is a teaching which is satisfied with a 
 parrot-like saying of Creed and Collect, Catechism and 
 ' lesson,' but what has the teacher taught ? What 
 spiritual lesson, such as a child can receive, has been 
 impressed on the child's receptive mind ? Would not 
 an examination held on what the child has distinctly 
 learned reveal how imperfect the teaching has been ? 
 
 Here is an authentic instance, and such could be 
 multiplied, of an answer by a Sunday scholar , in a 
 school in which the Church Catechism was taught by 
 repeating it after the teacher. The Creed was written 
 out as follows : ' I believe God the father all almighty, 
 make from and earth, and 'in Jesus Christ 'is only sun 
 our Lord, Who was inseaved by the Holy Gost and 
 born the ferch (!) in Mery, surfed under ponshed pily 
 was questy fide dad and berdy,' and so on, usque ad 
 finem ! 
 
 Or take this : ' My duty toads God is to bleed 
 in him tofering and to loaf withold your 'art, 
 withold my mind, withold my sold and with my 
 sunth, to wership and give thinks, to my old trust 
 in him, to call upon Him, to onner His old name 
 and his world and to save Him truly all the days
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 85 
 
 of my life's end. My dooty toads my nabers to 
 love him as thyself and to do all men as I wod thou 
 shalt do to me, to love onner and suke my father and 
 mother, to onner and to bey the Queen, and all that 
 are put in forty under her, to suilt myself to all my 
 grocues teachers sportial pastures and masters, to 
 oughten myself lordly and every to all my betters, to 
 hurt nobody by world not deed. To be trew and just 
 in all my deelins, to bear no malis nor ated in your 
 'arts, to keep my hands from peckin' and steel. My tum 
 from evil speak and lawin' and slanders. Not to covet 
 nor desat othermen's good, but am, labour trewly to 
 get my own leaving and do my dooty in state if life and 
 to each it his please God to call men. They did 
 promise and vowl three things in my name : First, 
 that I should pronounce the Devil and all his walks, 
 pumps and valities and all the sinful lursts of the 
 flesh,' etc. 
 
 Where lay the fault in this case ? The same may be 
 said of Sunday-school teachers drawn from a different 
 grade of society. The parish priest makes an appeal 
 for ' lay help.' Offers come in response and are 
 accepted without inquiry into the fitness or capability 
 of those who offer help. The Sunday-school is 
 equipped, but with what equipment and from what 
 motive ? There are those who offer for Church work 
 from a spirit of restlessness. Sunday, that debars from 
 many things, would be a dreary day if there were not 
 something to do and to interest. Some offer from a 
 sense of leisure. There are certain free hours between 
 services on Sundays ; these may be filled up by 
 teaching a class. With some there is a desire to be 
 ' useful ' : with others there is a conscientious sense of
 
 86 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 duty. But motives such as these are not the highest 
 nor the best. There is no guarantee in them for 
 perseverance in well-doing. Excuses are not far to 
 find for growing weary or for resigning what was 
 apparently taken up in earnestness. A teacher gives up 
 the class. ' Why should you do so ?' says his or her 
 clergyman. ' Oh, the children are dull and uninterest- 
 ing, and not responsive.' So that, in other words, the 
 teacher cannot bear disappointment or brook failure, 
 and, laying disappointment and irresponsiveness at the 
 door of the pupil, the teacher does not stop to examine 
 the motive which prompted the offer. But our Lord 
 did not commit to St. Peter's care the feeding of His 
 lambs until He was assured of St. Peter's love, 
 * Lovest thou Me ?' or, as the more correct and search- 
 ing rendering is, ' Am I dear to you ?' 
 
 If the solid foundation of happy wedded life be love, 
 the solid, acceptable, enduring motive for all who would 
 be wedded to Christ's service is love. ' Love shed 
 abroad in the heart by the Holy Ghost.' Love does 
 not come by work. Work is the evidence and outcome 
 of love. And that is the great want in the majority of 
 our Sunday-school teachers. They are not converted 
 — i.e., they have not that perception and personal 
 experience of redeeming love which makes, to my 
 mind, all the difference in teachers, in motive, in 
 teaching, both by lip and life. Cooper, at one time an 
 infidel, said that what led him to be an infidel was the 
 inconsistent conduct of his Sunday-school teacher. 
 Without 'judging ' many could discern at once in any 
 Sunday-school who is a real, attractive, efficient teacher 
 by plainness of dress, by the bright face and happy 
 ways, by the fixed and not wandering eye of scholars.
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 2>7 
 
 And such as these, though in one sense not learned 
 nor gifted, are ' endued with power from on high.' 
 Their object is to win the soul of the scholar early, 
 as it may be won, to Christ. Such as these con- 
 scientiously prepare their lesson, for with them, as 
 with the Jews, there is ' a preparation for the Sabbath.'' 
 Such as these make each individual scholar subject of 
 prayer, and the class, before they go to it, subject of 
 prayer. Such as these visit their scholars at their 
 homes, visits which are always appreciated. There 
 is an indirect influence, in ways unguessed, brought 
 to bear on the parents, who too often undo the work 
 of the teacher. Such as these are not liable to 
 counter-attractions on Sunday, or fertile in excuses for 
 occasional or habitual absence, but are of those com- 
 mended by St. Paul, who says : ' Remembering with- 
 out ceasing your work of faith and labour of love and 
 patience of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ, in the sight 
 of God and the Father.' 
 
 Is it Utopian to hope that men and women of 
 intellectual power and culture, ' a band whose hearts 
 God has touched,' would be persuaded to bring all this 
 to bear on Sunday-schools and Sunday scholars? The 
 French Government require of the Professors of the 
 Sorbonne, representing the intellect and culture of 
 Paris, that they teach in the night-schools of the city. 
 We have one or two outstanding names of such men 
 as the late Lord Hatherly teaching in Sunday-schools. 
 Doubtless there are many more such. There are, as we 
 know, many really converted teachers in our Sunday- 
 schools, and I would rather have ten such than a score 
 of unconverted teachers. Who will gainsay this ? 
 
 I have often thought that, but for the vigilance of
 
 88 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Nonconformists and the indifference of parents, I 
 would abolish a morning attendance, and throw all 
 available strength into a good hour's afternoon atten- 
 dance. But this may not be ; it would not, probably, 
 meet with general approval. We must do our best 
 with our opportunity and with the material available, 
 fully recognising the great store we set on the volun- 
 tary help of our Sunday-school teachers, and endeavour- 
 ing to make that help more efficient. I attribute the 
 excellent staff of teachers which I had at Doncaster 
 and Halifax to the fact that they were continually 
 recruited from my Confirmation candidates. In my 
 addresses to them preparatory to their Confirmation 
 I always endeavoured to impress upon them that one 
 help towards keeping ' the vow and promise made ' 
 was at once to take up and identify themselves with 
 some definite work of God. At our foundries I 
 notice that when the molten metal pours out of the 
 great caldron it runs into moulds of sand waiting' to 
 receive and give it form and fixity. At Doncaster my 
 Sunday-school teachers attended my Friday class for 
 instruction more or less regularly until the Sunday- 
 school Institute published their course of lessons. 
 Good as these are, they gave the coup de grace to my 
 class. As the work was purely voluntary, I could not 
 insist on the teachers giving up their Friday evenings. 
 I regretted it, because teachers need teaching, and the 
 instruction class insured uniform teaching throughout 
 the school. I imagine that the majority of parochial 
 clergy greatly desire that their teachers would come to 
 be themselves taught. In addition to occasional special 
 meetings for teachers and special addresses, I recall 
 with unfeigned pleasure our happy reunions once a
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 89 
 
 month at the Vicarage, and those bright and pleasant 
 gatherings which brought us together in friendly 
 intercourse. 
 
 Shall we ever see public catechizing revived and 
 more generally practised in our Churches ? The 
 Prayer-Book and Canons say nothing about Sunday- 
 schools, but they say not a little about the duty of 
 catechizing. Not to quote at length the fifty-ninth 
 Canon and its incisive legislation, let me give here the 
 Rubric at the close of ' a Catechism ' in our Book of 
 Common Prayer : 
 
 ' The Curate of every Parish shall diligently, upon 
 Sundays and Holy Days, after the second Lesson at 
 Evening Prayer, openly in the Church instruct and 
 examine so many Children of the Parish sent in to him, 
 as he shall think convenient, in some part of their 
 Catechism. And all Fathers, Mothers, Masters, and 
 Dames, shall cause their Children, Servants, and Ap- 
 prentices (which have not learnt their Catechism) to 
 come to the Church at the time appointed, and obediently 
 to hear, and be ordered by the Curate until such time 
 as they have learned all that is here appointed for 
 them to learn.' 
 
 This Rubric would appear to assume that the first 
 responsibility of a parent has been discharged at home, 
 and that catechizing proceeded on the assumption that 
 the first principles of religion had been already taught, 
 not in a Sunday-school, but at home. How is it that 
 this, so strictly enjoined, is ignored and has fallen into 
 desuetude ? Is it that, in contendinof for the mint and 
 anise and cumin, we have omitted the weightier 
 matters of the law, and while occupied with burning 
 questions {e.g., incense) we seem to have disregarded
 
 90 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 as of little or no account the Church's injunction in the 
 matter of public catechizing ?* Public catechizing has 
 much to recommend it. Older people will attend, as 
 themselves interested in hearing their children cate- 
 chized ; and as at any public dinner you may generally 
 discern who are not to be called upon to make a speech 
 by the sense of rest which sits on their faces, so parents 
 listen without the disturbing or disquieting thought 
 that a question might be put to them. Unconsciously 
 they, too, are learning. 
 
 I notice that men who fish for gudgeon from 
 punts in the Thames sometimes prepare the ground 
 the night before by sprinkling meal to attract the 
 gudgeon. I had a class of children on Saturdays, and, 
 to a certain extent, so prepared the ground that I 
 might be safeguarded against answers which, with my 
 fortunate or unfortunate sense of humour, might be 
 most trying. I would not give ' conundrums ' such as 
 given in the list of questions appended to this chapter, 
 but I would endeavour to give such as should not 
 excite merriment or make the catechizer bite his lips 
 to suppress laughter — e.g., What is a cherub ? 
 
 ' A cherub is an infant angel who died before 
 baptism, and will undoubtedly be saved,' 
 
 Another definition, on the authority of Dr. Haig 
 Brown, is : ' An immaral being of uncertain shape.' 
 
 At a recent examination the following answer was 
 given by a boy who was asked to write all he knew 
 about Joan of Arc: 'Joan of Ark was out in a ship 
 when he was thrown overboard, and before he was 
 drowned a shark swoller him, and one day the shark 
 
 * 'The Duty of Catechizing,' Rev. W. B. Crickmer, W. Hunt 
 and Co.
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 91 
 
 swum away and came into land and shoked Joan of 
 Ark up. Joan of Ark was nine the worse after it.' 
 Poor Jonah ! 
 
 ' What, my child, are sins of omission ?' ' Those 
 which we ought to have committed, and have forgotten 
 to commit' 
 
 ' What are the heathen ?' Bright boy replies : 
 * Heathens are people who don't quarrel about religion.' 
 
 I add a few authentic replies given by children. 
 ' What would be a greater miracle than the whale 
 swallowing Jonah T ' Please, sir, Jonah swallowing 
 the whale.' 'What is meant by sowing tares?' 
 ' Mother mending my breeches.' ' Why did the 
 eunuch go on his way rejoicing ?' ' Please, sir, 
 because Philip had done a-teaching of him.' After an 
 address to children in connection with missions to the 
 heathen this question was put : ' What is the differ- 
 ence, now that you have heard all about missionaries 
 and their good work, between a Christian aiid a 
 cannibal ?' A boy of ten, noted for his good appetite, 
 replied promptly : ' Why, master, one enjoys himself 
 and t'other enjoys other people.' At a Church school 
 in the North this reply was given to the curate, 
 whose mind was much fixed on Lenten services. 
 ' Well, boys, can any of you tell me what follows Ash 
 Wednesday? Think, now, before you answer.' ' Yes, 
 sir, I can.' 'Well, tell me.' ' Malton Steeplechases.' 
 Curate : ' Hush ! hush f As I ' gave way ' at that 
 wedding in Kensington parish church on the occasion 
 of the bride's anxiety about her gloves, so I do not 
 think I could have kept my countenance had the 
 following answer been given to me : ' Now, dear 
 children, why did David^j say that Saul hunted him
 
 92 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 like a dog" or a flea ? Why should he say a fiea ?' 
 ' Please, sir, because Saul could not catch him!*^ 
 
 This is too good to be lost. What must the child 
 have been taught ? A girl about nine years of age 
 was obliged for some time to endure the ' nagging ' 
 annoyances of a maiden aunt. The child puzzled her 
 little mind as to the best means of getting rid of her 
 tormentor, and at last hit upon a plan which she 
 thought would have the desired effect. She spent 
 the whole morning writing a letter. She dug a deep 
 hole in the garden, and put the letter into the hole. 
 The following letter was discovered : 
 
 ' Dear Mr. Satan, 
 
 ' Will you kindly come and take away Aunt 
 Jane ? She is a very fussy person, and does worry 
 me so. 
 
 ' Yours affectionately, 
 
 ' Alice.' , 
 
 This was not intended to be irreverent on the 
 child's part, but it shows how careful parents and 
 teachers should be in their instructions about prayer. 
 A child came home very late from a children's party. 
 Her mother said : ' I am afraid, dear, you did not say 
 your prayers before you went to bed.' ' No, mamma, 
 I did not, but I knelt down and said : " O God, I am 
 too tired to say my prayers !" and He said : " Pray don't 
 mention it, Miss Jones.'" 
 
 My grandchild at four years of age was asked by 
 his mother after service, when the hrst lesson was 
 about the creation of our first parents : ' Who was the 
 
 * ' After whom is the King of Israel come out ? after whom dost 
 thou pursue? after a dead dog, after a fiea.' — i Sam. xxiv. 14.
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 93 
 
 first man created ?' ' Adam, mother.' * And who was 
 the first woman ?' ' I do not quite remember ; but was 
 it Madam ?' 
 
 Mrs. Alfred Inglis had a class of boys in our 
 Sunday-school at Halifax, and she had been speaking 
 of the garden of Eden. Her imagination ran riot 
 on its fair scenes and its visions of unsullied beauty. 
 ' Now, who can tell me what spoilt Paradise ?' A 
 boy held out his hand. ' Yes ; what spoilt Paradise ?' 
 ' Woman,' replied the boy. ' Oh ! think, my boy; what 
 spoilt Paradise ?' True to Yorkshire persistence, he 
 replied, ' I says Woman.' 
 
 Apart from the possibilities of such disquieting 
 answers, which to a certain extent may be made less 
 possible, while catechizing is not to abolish Sunday- 
 schools or to make them less necessary, it would go 
 far to consolidate the Sunday-school system with the 
 Church system. The two would work side by side, 
 the one preparing for the other, the other supplement- 
 ing the Sunday-school. The meshes of the Sunday- 
 school net are too large. Children come to think 
 themselves too old for the one, not, perhaps, too old for 
 the other. There would be more hope for solving the 
 question so frequent at Congresses : ' How shall we 
 retain our Sunday-school scholars ?' The parish priest, 
 in fulfilling this function, would be the principal 
 Sunday-school teacher in the parish, only transfer- 
 ring his class from the Sunday-schoolroom to the 
 parish church. A test would be found in catechizing 
 of what teachers teach and their scholars learn. Would 
 not both teachers and scholars profit thereby .'* 
 
 No one, whatever his or her private opinion may be, 
 would advocate the discontinuance of Sunday-schools.
 
 94 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 They ought to be the nursery of the Church. I beHeve 
 that in an age of considerable Church revival a Sunday- 
 school might become a centre of spiritual power. If 
 there were more prayer offered up, more habitual 
 intercession, the dry bones would come together, the 
 sinews and the flesh would come upon them, the skin 
 would cover them above, and breath come into them 
 if we prayed : ' Come from the four winds, O breath ! 
 and breathe upon these slain that they may live.' 
 
 Many think, and rightly, that clergy expend too 
 much care and thought on 'organization,' that they are 
 losing touch with the devotional element in religion. 
 ' Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith 
 the Lord.' The Church's days of power were her days 
 of prayer. The old gunners sighted their guns on 
 their knees. If Sunday-schools are to do their proper 
 and special work ; if our scholars are not to be 
 * dereligionized ' by attendance ; if the principles of 
 our most holy faith are not to be so taught and 
 presented to a child's mind as to fail to interest and 
 attract it, our prayer must be that in every parish 
 there shall be ' a band whose hearts God has touched '; 
 that our teachers may be "all taught of God '; that, 
 themselves converted, their great aim will be to win, 
 as it may early be won, the individual scholar to 
 Christ ; that they should avoid 'latest fashions,' and in 
 sober-mindedness forego what might divert the mind ; 
 that they make careful and prayerful preparation, 
 so that they may have something to say ; that they 
 pray that they may be used of God ; that they pray for 
 each separate child, naming them by name at the 
 throne of grace ; that they give no occasion by incon- 
 sistencies for the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme ;
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOLS 95 
 
 that they visit the children of their class in their own 
 homes, both sick and whole, and bring all of conse- 
 crated influence to bear upon the child. Ah ! if this — 
 not too ideal or Utopian to be seriously entertained — 
 were borne in mind and acted on, should we not have 
 less and less occasion to ask, with some misgivings : 
 ' Are our Sunday-schools a failure or success ?' And 
 to Sunday-school teachers we may, I think, apply what 
 is applicable to all education : 
 
 ' As wrapt and hidden in the stone's embrace 
 The future statue lies yet undefined 
 Till the nice chisel clears the form designed, 
 The trunk, the moving limbs, the speaking face 
 Develops ; so Instruction's hand must trace 
 The intellectual form which lies enshrined 
 'Mid Nature's rude materials : and the mind 
 Invest with due proportion, strength and grace, 
 God to thy teaching delegates the art 
 To form the future man ; the care be thine, 
 No shape unworthy from the marble start, 
 Reptile or monster, but with just design 
 Copy the heavenly model, and impart, 
 As best thou canst, similitude Divine.' 
 
 Mant. 
 
 AN OLD SYRIAC CATECHISM. 
 
 Questions and Answers drawn up by Mar Yukhanan, Bishop 
 OF THE City of Khirta, against Heretics. Amen. 
 
 Q. Who was born and did not die, died but was not born, died 
 but did not corrupt ? 
 
 A. Enoch, Adam, Lot's wife. 
 
 Q. Who was laid to rest in the bosom of his grandmother ? 
 
 . A. Abel. 
 
 Q. Who was born from his mother with beard and teeth ? 
 
 A. Adam.
 
 96 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Q. Who, fleeing, gave life ; returning, brought death ? 
 
 A. The Red Sea. 
 
 Q. Who when he lied saw, but when he spoke truth became 
 blind? 
 
 A. Samson. 
 
 Q. Not of us, not from our race, he spoke with us as our fellow ? 
 
 A. Balaam's ass. 
 
 Q. Sickles of fire and reapers of flesh, harvesting all day, but 
 taking no wage ? 
 
 A. The foxes of Samson. 
 
 Q. Father of wood and mother of stone begat a son of the nature 
 of neither ? 
 
 A. Moses' rod, the rock, the water that flowed forth. 
 
 Q. Three times alive, three times dead ? 
 
 A. Moses' rod. 
 
 Q. Flesh in skin, and skin in flesh, and flesh in water } 
 
 A. Jonah in the fish. 
 
 Q. A sepulchre which no dead man entered and no living left, 
 yet full of dead ? 
 
 A. The temple destroyed by Samson. 
 
 Q. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass her master's crib ? 
 
 A. Aged Simeon. 
 
 Q. What when living ate straw, when dead drank blood ? 
 
 A. The jawbone with which Samson slew the Philistines. 
 
 Q. Who ever begets and buries, and who ever buries but never 
 begets ? 
 
 A. The East, the West. 
 
 Q. Who died one out of four of' creation ? 
 
 A. Abel. 
 
 Q. What animal was heard by all the world when it gave forth its 
 voice ? 
 
 A. The cock when it crowed in Noah's ark.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 
 
 From the elementary form of religious instruction in 
 our Sunday-schools, public catechizing, etc., I pass 
 on to the less elementary and more public form of 
 teaching in and by the Pulpit. The sermon, whatever 
 may be said or thought of it, has still its recognised 
 place and province in our churches as part of Divine 
 service. It is idle to ignore, however much some may 
 disparage preaching. The Press can never really 
 supersede nor displace the Pulpit. The province of 
 Press and Pulpit, of leading Article and of Homily, 
 is distinct. Both, rightly used, may exercise an in- 
 fluence which cannot well be gauged or limited. The 
 longer I live, the more am I persuaded that preaching 
 holds the foremost place in the instruments which God 
 is pleased to use for the evangelization of the world. 
 Other means of grace have not the same effect or end. 
 Sacraments initiate and sustain ; they do not awaken, 
 arrest, convince. The Pulpit is distinct from Font and 
 Altar. It stands in our churches midway between 
 these, with responsibility and opportunity of its own. 
 I am indisposed to believe that the laity at large 
 dislike, or are so impatient of sermons, that they would, 
 if canvassed, vote for ' no sermon.' If not a few 
 
 [97] 7
 
 98 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 regret that it should ever be announced that there will 
 be a sermon but ' no collection,'^ as discouraging what 
 should be regarded as part of Divine worship, we 
 might ask what would be the general religious condi- 
 tion of our laity, not versed in the science of theology, 
 and left entirely to their own resources for instruction 
 in righteousness, if the Pulpit ceased to have a place 
 in our churches ? If some would say, ' We have our 
 Bible,' yet who does not feel the need of an inter- 
 preter ? In how many instances might this question 
 still be put to one who reads his Bible : ' Understandest 
 thou what thou readest ?' And the honest answer 
 would be : ' How can I, except someone guide me ?' 
 
 Who, also, is not fully alive to the power we may 
 exercise over each other, not only by what we can 
 leisurely read of printed matter, but by oratory and 
 eloquence, whether on platform or in pulpit, with all 
 accessories of living voice, action, gesture, as the 
 speaker presses into his service everything of, per- 
 suasiveness to bear and play on the strings of our 
 varied feelings and emotions ? You have but to be 
 present where some skilful orator or great preacher is 
 speaking to crowded audience or thronged church to 
 be aware of the spell which he is exercising over the 
 attentive listener. It has been my privilege from my 
 boyhood to hear some of the greatest preachers of 
 our age, not only in England, but in Germany, 
 
 * Attending a village church a short time ago someone, as he 
 approached, said to me : ' I see, Dean, that there is no collection 
 to-day.' I asked him how he knew, and he pointed to xh^ pillar-box 
 let into the wall of the churchyard. There was this notice, 'No 
 collection to-day.' I can only suppose he was short-sighted, and 
 mistook the pillar-box for a notice board.
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 99 
 
 France, America, and to have felt the power of the 
 living voice addressing itself to intellect and heart, to 
 reason and conscience, to mind and spirit. 
 
 It is somewhat late in the day to discuss or dispute 
 the necessity of the sermon, to be submitted to as 
 patiently as may be by the cynic and indifferent, or 
 listened to with expectant interest for what God by the 
 preacher shall say as ' a word in due season.' 
 
 It is not a healthy sign in the spiritual life 
 of the individual worshipper to habitually 'leave 
 before the sermon.' It argues no little conceit that 
 he or she stands in no need of teachinor. It is to 
 my mind to do dishonour to God's great ordinance 
 when the Service is so lengthy and elaborate in 
 its character as to allow of only ten, or even six 
 minutes for the sermon. This is to make the pulpit 
 give way to Office piled on Office, to the weari- 
 ness of flesh and spirit, with their vain repetition of 
 prayer and strain on devotion. It is sacrificing the 
 Pulpit to the Service. The ' short sermon,' clamoured 
 for in our day, admired for its brevity more than for its 
 matter, is the outcome of a long Service preceding and 
 following it. In some cathedrals or parish churches 
 we still have Morning Prayer, Litany, Ante-Com- 
 munion rolled into one, with a Celebration to follow. 
 No wonder that our people find their devotional power 
 exhausted, and they are not in a mood to listen to any- 
 thing which exceeds a few minutes. You see watches 
 furtively examined, the worshipper dividing his atten- 
 tion between you and his timepiece.* 
 
 * How irresistible is this habit of looking at watches ! Preaching 
 on one occasion in the Garrison Chapel at Dover, I was told that 
 the most eloquent preacher in the world would not put a stop to the 
 
 ^—2
 
 lOO ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 A very short sermon, if it is to be made effective, 
 demands exceptional ability and a rare power of con- 
 densing. It is a p-ift of its own kind which few 
 possess. Of all the men I have ever heard who 
 possess this gift Dr. Boyd Carpenter is the most 
 striking example. I was on the platform with him 
 at a Church Congress. He sent in his card when the 
 time allotted for speakers was five minutes. Boyd 
 Carpenter crowded into those five minutes more than 
 some of the twenty-minute readers and speakers. It 
 was an egg full of meat. ' That was an excellent 
 short sermon you preached to-day,' was the remark 
 once made by a hearer. ' It would have been shorter,' 
 was the reply, ' had I had more time to prepare it.' 
 Per contra, my readers will have heard of the judge 
 who asked the clergyman who was to preach the 
 Assize Sermon not to be long. The preacher was 
 short. Anxious to know if he had met the judge's 
 wishes, he said : ' I hope, my lord, I was not too long ?' 
 ' No,' replied the judge ; 'you were not long, but you 
 were tediotis.^ I was recently attending a morning 
 service where the sermon was exactly six minutes. 
 It seemed hardly worth wfiile to sit down after the 
 Invocation. Imagine the first preachers, by whose 
 preaching ' the world was turned upside down,' preach- 
 ing for only six minutes ! Is it quite fair or reasonable 
 to invite a clergyman to come from a considerable 
 distance at some personal expense, and to find that he 
 is allotted a short fifteen minutes ? 
 
 practice in that chapel. A gun is fired precisely at twelve o'clock. 
 It fired when I was preaching, and everyone who possessed a watch 
 produced it to see if his or her watch were right with ' Greenwich 
 time.' Except at a watchmaker's shop I have never anywhere seen 
 so many watches as I saw produced in the chapel of Dover Garrison.
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS loi 
 
 I was invited a few years ago to preach in a pro- 
 minent London church on what might be called its 
 'high day.' It was the occasion of the anniversary of 
 its Dedication, Some 2,000 people were gathered 
 together. On my arrival in the vestry, the Vicar 
 informed me that there was a Choral Celebration at 
 12.30 — a 'gentle hint,' Divine service commenced 
 at II a.m. The organist made the most of his oppor- 
 tunity, and selected one of the longest voluntaries in 
 his repertoire. The service, Te Deuin, and Bene- 
 dictus were the longest I have ever heard, 1 1 was one 
 of those services against which clergy and laity alike 
 should vehemently protest, where short interludes are 
 here and there introduced in the Te Deum or Canticle. 
 The Anthem was one of the longest which could be 
 selected. By the time I found myself in the pulpit, 
 after a long hymn, my watch indicated 12,15, Fifteen 
 minutes at my disposal to speak to 2,000 people, and 
 at what cost ? Three days from my own work at home 
 and congregation at the cathedral, and the personal 
 expense, not offered or defrayed, of journey and hotel. 
 
 I know not a few who have resolved to decline 
 invitations to preach when they are so hampered, and 
 out of pocket to boot. A preacher, also, is in some 
 cases haunted by the thought that he must be brief, as 
 many are impatient to put in an appearance in the latest 
 fashion at the ' church parade,' A serious impression 
 is at best evanescent and fleeting. If people complain 
 that the pulpit has lost its power, if not its place, we 
 answer : ' What chance has the pulpit where the sermon 
 is abbreviated, the serious impression not cherished 
 and deepened by prayer, but scattered to the winds in 
 the parade of the Park and worldly conversation in the 
 Row ?'
 
 I02 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 It is very probable that we have nowadays too many 
 sermons. The sermon seems to be regarded as one 
 of the exigencies of Divine service. The result is 
 that the strain on the clergy is very severe. The 
 strain on Nonconformists is not the preparation and 
 production of a sermon ; the strain is in the ' prayer- 
 producing power.' A leading Nonconformist minister 
 once said to me : ' You have no idea in the Church 
 of England what a strain it is to have to compose so 
 many "extempore" prayers, with deacons sitting by 
 us criticising our praying power. No wonder we 
 occasionally find relief in falling back on your beautiful 
 pre-composed Liturgy.' 
 
 In the Church of England a curate, In the largest 
 sense of the word, is expected to be good and able 'all 
 round.' A diligent visitor, with constant ' surplice duty,' 
 a familiar face in day and Sunday school, and a good 
 preacher. If he be single-handed — shall I say singJe- 
 headed? — he may have to preach twice on every Sunday, 
 and occasionally on a week-day. By his Ordination 
 vow he is pledged to 'preach the Word.' It is a 
 function he must not forego ifhe would ' give full proof 
 of his ministry. If preaching be not his mdtier or gift, 
 he is constantly haunted with the thought of ' having to 
 preach.' The pressing and ever- recurring demands on 
 his time, with unexpected interruptions, do not allow of 
 that leisure for reading which is becoming more and 
 more imperative in an age such as ours of mental 
 activity, research, increasing knowledge, profound 
 investigation, and thoughtful inquiry. The laity 
 demand something more than ' drops of opium on 
 leaves of lead.' They like to feel that he who preaches 
 to them is familiar with and abreast of the questions
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 103 
 
 of the day. They prefer the new to the ' old Fathers.' 
 If he is to be secured against the severe criticism 
 attributed to Archbishop Whately, who, speaking of 
 a sermon he had Hstened to, said ' it was the best 
 he had ever heard, for it aimed at nothing and suc- 
 ceeded in hitting it,' then the preacher of the present 
 day must, whether his sermon be short or long, ' have 
 something to say ' worth listening to. He must have 
 a full and stored mind. No water will flow out of an 
 empty tub. You must, if you would draw on and out 
 of it, keep filling the tub. The result of ' hard 
 parochial work ' is in too many cases at the cost of 
 pulpit freshness and power. To few is it given to 
 be original, like Huntingdon of Central New York 
 or Frederick Robertson ; and though to a very con- 
 siderable extent clergy do not nowadays preach 
 sermons written by men who make a living by 
 writing them, there is still the temptation to do so. 
 But it is not as it was years ago. This is greatly 
 to the credit of our younger clergy. How well I 
 remember the days of my first curacy! Neighbour- 
 ing clergy called on me, and took the opportunity to 
 advise me to spare myself the trouble of preparing 
 my own sermons. In my former book I tell of the 
 large supply of ' Ancient Manuscripts' placed freely at 
 my disposal by my Rector, setat ninety-two. I had these 
 to fall back upon did I feel at any time so 'disposed.' 
 One clergyman showed me how I could take a printed 
 sermon with me into the pulpit — he recommended it 
 from his own successful experience — so heavily and 
 deeply underscored with the blackest lead-pencil which 
 could be procured ' that he defied anyone to discern 
 printed matter.'
 
 104 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Once I 'yielded to temptation.' A kind of 'order' 
 came — whence I know not — that we were to preach 
 on the Fall of SebastopoL I was 'but young.' It 
 was my second or third sermon. I knew that it 
 were useless, an abortive quest, to search in the two 
 boxes of ' Ancient Manuscripts ' for an ' appropriate ' 
 sermon on an event which had not happened in 
 my aged Rector's experience. I was too poor to 
 have a daily newspaper. I had only a general impres- 
 sion that some beleaguered place ' had succumbed to 
 superior force on the part of the allied forces. ' I was 
 staying for a day or two with a neighbouring clergy- 
 man. He noticed that I seemed depressed. 
 
 ' Pigou, what is the matter ? You do not seem 
 yourself to-day.' I said I felt ' down ' and depressed 
 about the Fall of Sebastopol. ' Down and depressed 
 about the Fall of Sebastopol '^. Why, it is the occasion 
 of rejoicings everywhere. I at once gave orders for 
 the parish bells to be rung and flags put up in the 
 steeple. How can you be "down and depressed"?' 
 I said I was ' down and depressed,' that I could not 
 give an immediate order for our one bell to be tolled 
 — though it would, in its funereal sadness, have been 
 more in harmony with my mood — because / had to 
 preach about it, and knew nothing about it. ' Oh,' my 
 host replied, ' do not b,e cast down. I have just seen 
 an advertisement of a " Sermon on the Fall of Sebas- 
 topol," price 2s. 6d. I have by this very post written 
 for it. Now, it is sure to come down by return of post. 
 You shall copy it while you are here, and I will only 
 charge you half-price, is. 3d.' 
 
 It struck me at the time that he had decidedly the 
 best of the bargain, but, like a man deep in debt will
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 105 
 
 pay 60 per cent, or more to a moneylender, I grate- 
 fully accepted this most handsome offer. I noticed 
 words in the sermon utterly unintelligible to my 
 farmers and labourers. I remembered Max Mtiller's 
 remark that the vocabulary of a poor man is limited 
 to about three hundred words, so I added to the 
 labour of copying the sermon at is. 3d. that of alter- 
 ing words and expressions into something more in- 
 telligible. I preached the purchased, expensive and 
 adapted sermon, and my people thought that for so 
 young a man I had ' handled the subject well! 
 
 The Saturday following, in the local papers, there 
 appeared : ' Our Vicar (not the curate of Stoke 
 Talmage) preached a most excellent and appropriate 
 sermon on the Fall of Sebastopol.' I felt it * hard 
 lines ' that he should have got such credit for what 
 had cost him no trouble, and which he got half- 
 price. 
 
 I would not go so far as to say that we should never 
 give our people the benefit of other men's thoughts, 
 but that is different from preaching another man's 
 sermon in toto, and palming it off as our own. I have 
 recognised more than once one of Frederick Robert- 
 son's sermons, as also of Bishop Huntingdon. A 
 vicar once asked me what steps to take with one of his 
 curates, who preached a course of Dr. Vaughan's 
 sermons on the Ads of the Apostles. He ' drew ' such 
 large congregations that the choice lay between expos- 
 ing the ' pious fraud ' and allowing the people to be 
 benefited by Vaughan's excellent commentary. End- 
 less are the stories of the detection of this pious fraud. 
 I know of a vicar and curate who, in each other's 
 absence, preached the same sermon at morning and
 
 io6 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 evening service. An old woman who attended both 
 services was very much struck with the ' family like- 
 ness' of these two sermons on one and the same 
 Sunday. As she left the church she made this remark, 
 which I commend for its discernment and charity : 
 How wonderfttl it is how the Lord makes two men, our 
 vicar and the curate, think alike /' ' How long, sir,' 
 asked a clergyman of a young curate, who recognised 
 his own sermon, 'did it take you to write that sermon?' 
 ' It took me only a few hours.' ' it took me, sir, a 
 whole week.' A friend of mine, at one time one of 
 the ' Whitehall Preachers,' acknowledged freely to me 
 that when hard-pressed he would read over one of 
 Manning's sermons, and reproduce it, extempore, in 
 his own words, I see no harm whatever in this. 
 Asked, as I frequently am, by younger clergy, whose 
 sermons might, if hard-pressed, be of service to them, I 
 recommend Newman's 'Parochial Sermons ' for Church 
 Teaching, Robertson or Foster's ' Essays ' for freshness 
 and originality of thought, Manning for deep insight 
 into the spiritual life. But I more often commend, in 
 place of the more formal 'sermon,' a course of reading 
 on some particular portion of the Bible, or a kind of 
 running commentary or exposition. It does not mean 
 less preparation, but there is less of our thoughts in a 
 ' reading ' and more df God's Word. 
 
 That the Church of England does not bear favour- 
 able comparison with the Church of Rome or with the 
 Free Churches in the matter of preaching power will, I 
 think, be generally allowed. It is not so much the fault 
 of the man as it is of the system. In the Roman Com- 
 munion sermons are not only, comparatively speaking, 
 infrequent, but there is a distinct order of preachers.
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 107 
 
 Not every priest is allowed to preach. In the Roman 
 Communion, as I have heard at Notre Dame, the 
 Madeleine, or St. Roch, the sermon is a distinct 
 function. It is not preceded by a long and exhausting 
 service. The preacher does as we do at 'missions.' 
 There are a few prayers, a hymn, and the sermon — 
 listened to throughout with attention — is not of six or 
 ten minutes', but of an hour's, duration. There is time 
 to treat some great theme fully and worthily, with all 
 the accessories of studied delivery, suitable action, and 
 rhetorical effect. Who, hearing Pere Loyson, Didon, 
 or Mosambre, could fail to listen ? You rarely hear 
 a poverty-stricken sermon in the pulpits of Free 
 Churches. Nonconformist ministers, having no recog- 
 nised parish, nor the incessant demands and interrup- 
 tions of parochial work, have abundant leisure for 
 adequate preparation, and are early trained in the 
 ' theological colleges ' in the art of preaching. 
 
 It is often said, in view of the lack of really good, 
 attractive preachers In the Church of England : ' Why 
 not establish a "preaching order "? ' Personally, I doubt 
 if it would answer, or that it would work well. It would 
 be felt as a reflection on the stated ministry. The laity 
 would feel that their own ' parson ' ought to be able to 
 preach, and that to give over the pulpit to what are 
 called in our Vestry Registers ' strange preachers ' 
 would be to the prejudice of the parish priest. Some, 
 again, plead for interchange of pulpits. This is all 
 very well on special occasions, when no ' odious com- 
 parisons ' are made, but ' schools of thought ' are with 
 us still so wide apart, in some cases so conflicting and 
 e^ven mystifying in their apparently diametrical opposi- 
 tion, that such interchange, unless the preacher forbear
 
 io8 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 from ventilating his own particular views, would tend 
 rather to confusion than to godly concord. 
 
 'Better,' we might say to some impatient layman, 
 ' bear the ills we have than fly to others we know not 
 of.' Though there may not be many 'stars,' shining 
 lights, or great preachers in the Church of England, 
 there are thousands who in their pulpit ministry, though 
 not showy or of world-wide reputation, divide the Word 
 rightly in due season, and according to their light and 
 ability. Do not country clergy, far removed from 
 the haunts of men in isolated villages, command all 
 our sympathy ? They know little or nothing of the 
 more exciting circumstances of public worship, the 
 crowded congregations, the uplifting surroundings, 
 the inspiring singing, etc. The monotony, the un- 
 varying sameness of their ministry, must at times 
 be depressing and not exhilarating. There are the 
 same faces before them Sunday after Sunday. They 
 hear no voice of exhortation but their own. I' am 
 quite confident that the great hindrance to effective 
 preaching in remote country parishes is that the 
 preacher shrinks from being incisive. The condition 
 of his ministry forbids such preaching as might be 
 considered too personal. You may know your people 
 not well enough. You may know them too well. That 
 which you can say to thousands without fear of anyone 
 saying, ' He means and is preaching at me,' you cannot 
 well say in a small country parish, lest someone should 
 ' take offence.' 
 
 Even where your congregation may number five or 
 six hundred and more, you are not sure someone will 
 not say, ' He was preaching at me,' when nothing was 
 further from your thoughts, and dire and even vindic-
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 109 
 
 tive offence is taken. I was preaching once during 
 Lent on the words : * Put a knife to thy throat if thou 
 be a man given to appetite' I happened also to say 
 how character was betrayed on the countenance ; that 
 sensual habits were mirrored on the face, etc. There 
 was one present who was of ' a sad countenance.' He 
 took dire offence. The matter was made worse by 
 someone asking him as he went out of church : ' Well, 
 and when are you going to put a knife to your throat ?' 
 He wrote a very shameful letter to me, and ' bully- 
 ragged ' me in our local papers. In vain I showed 
 him my manuscript, written and preached five years 
 before in St. Philip's, Regent Street, when I assured 
 him that I did not even know of his existence, and had 
 not altered a single word. To the day of his death he 
 was my 'sworn foe.' 
 
 The advantage of a ' strange preacher ' coming to 
 a particular parish is that he cannot be accused of 
 ' personalities,' which, under any circumstances, are 
 in very bad taste. As regards isolated country 
 parishes, I confess I rather sympathize with a vicar 
 whose parish lay amongst the hills and dales of Cumber- 
 land. Notices were sent out that I was to conduct a 
 'quiet day' for clergy at Carlisle. Invitations were 
 sent out far and wide. Reaching the Ultima Thicle 
 of the diocese, the reply from the Vicar was : 
 'What on e^th do I want with a "quiet day".'* I 
 have 365 quiet days every year. Send me a Boanerges 
 to rouse us all up.' Taking charge not long ago as locujn 
 tenens of a small village, this was said of me. I was 
 preaching on Nathan's words, ' Thozc art tJujman! 
 Someone present was asked : ' How do you like the 
 Dean of Bristol ?' ' Oh,' was the reply, ' I likes him. 
 
 T^oc^
 
 no ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 You see, when he is preaching he don't point his fore- 
 finger at me in the pulpit and say, " Thou art the 
 man," but he has got such a pleasant iDay of making me 
 feel I aju.' This could hardly be said of a Scotch 
 minister of whom I have heard. He was preaching 
 on drunkenness and the sin of intemperance. A 
 member of the congregation was present, well-known 
 as addicted to this vice. The preacher said : ' I don't 
 mean, brethren, to be personal : it is a great mistake 
 to be personal in the pulpit, but if there should happen 
 to bean old bald-headed gentleman, late in Her Majesty's 
 service, sitting in the north-west gallery of this 
 church, let him solemnly tak it to himself.' The late 
 Captain R.N. was at the very spot so clearly indicated. 
 How curious and unlooked-for are comments made 
 on sermons ! I met a lady recently, who said : ' I 
 shall never forget a sermon you preached years ago 
 at Holy Trinity, Paddington.' (I preached the ten 
 days' mission there during the late Dr. Moore's 
 vicariate.) ' I had my children with me at your 
 children's service. You took : " Take the foxes, the 
 little foxes that spoil the vines'' I often take this at 
 children's services. I have some lines, which have 
 been published, written by Dr. Bickersteth, the late 
 Bishop of Exeter, who attended the children's ser- 
 vices I held, now mai^y years ago, in the Iron Church, 
 Whitby. I took those words one Sunday, and in the 
 course of the evening he sent me his poetic version of 
 them. Wishing to know more about the effect of this 
 particular sermon, that so clave to her memory, I 
 asked her : ' Can you remember what I said that left 
 so lasting an impression on you and your child's mind ?' 
 ' Yes,' she said ; ' my dear child came home m,uch im-
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS in 
 
 pressed : you said that foxes wei^e ve^y sly, and some- 
 times buried the'mselves in holes! 
 
 I invite my readers or reviewers to explain the 
 following incident. Three or four years ago I was 
 again invited to conduct the service at the Chapel 
 of the Hospital for Huguenots, now established in 
 South Hackney. It is de riguenr that the whole 
 s^ervice be conducted in French. I took prayers and 
 lesson in, for the time and occasion, the ' vulgar 
 tongue.' I wrote a brief account in English of the 
 revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and dwelt on the 
 benefits of the charity. I translated this into French 
 with my wife's aid — a good French scholar. After 
 service the Lord Mayor of London, who was present 
 ' in state,' thanked me for the sermon, adding : 
 * Though, sir, I do not know one word of French, I 
 understood you perfectly.' 
 
 I beat my brains to find out what ' his lordship 
 meant ' ! I know that the rendering of my sermon 
 into French was grammatically correct. I can only 
 suppose — but the supposition does not at all satisfy 
 me — that it was not idiomatic French. At Pere 
 Lachaise, in Paris, I very often read our Burial Service, 
 for the sake of the grave-diggers, out of my French 
 version of our Book of Common Prayer. There are 
 idioms, phrases, renderings, which an Englishman, 
 turning his composition into French, would not know 
 or use. Let anyone who has at hand our Prayer- 
 Book ' done into French ' verify this ; but even then 
 it altogether surpasses my power of comprehension 
 how anyone could say : ' Though I do not know one 
 word of French, I perfectly understood you' I await 
 explanation.
 
 112 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 The question of the frequency or infrequency, the 
 less or more, of sermons is a large question. But 
 it will be an evil day for the Church when the question 
 is solved by saying, 'We do not want a sermon,' and 
 when that one function which holds foremost place in 
 the New Testament, for the evangelizing of the world 
 and individual souls, be pushed out of its place by the 
 horns of elaborate services, which are only the acces- 
 sories of religion, and which never brought a soul to 
 Christ. We must watch against losing sight of the 
 difference between worshipping and evangelizing, and 
 of giving undue prominence to our preference of what 
 is objective in religion, at the cost of that subjective 
 experience which can alone satisfy the deeper needs of 
 sin-sick souls. 
 
 The subject is at times discussed at Congresses and 
 Conferences as to whether a written or extempore 
 sermon be preferable. It is a question which will 
 probably never be settled. No hard-and-fast , rule 
 can be laid down. There can be no doubt that 
 some, from nervousness and lack of the gift of utter- 
 ance, cannot trust themselves to preach extempore. 
 I can well understand that on certain very special 
 occasions it is both more prudent and safe to commit 
 your thoughts to writing. You are more likely to be 
 accurate, more strictly grammatical, more careful and 
 perhaps felicitous in the choice of words. A sermon 
 preached before the University, a Bampton Lecture, or 
 an address before some learned body, such as the 
 British Association, seem to lend themselves to and 
 to demand the written discourse. 
 
 The late Archbishop Benson, when I invited him to 
 preach at the opening of our choir, after its restoration.
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 113 
 
 wrote to me from Florence and said : * Let me have all 
 particulars about your restoration, as I should wish to 
 write something specially worthy of such an occasion.' 
 
 A well-delivered written sermon may be quite as 
 impressive, and even more so, than one preached 
 extempore. Dr. Chalmers, Dean Church, Dr. Liddon, 
 preached written sermons, and who could be more 
 impressive ? One advantage also is that you are safe- 
 guarded against ' vain repetition,' to which extempore 
 preaching is more liable. 
 
 A rule which Bishop Wilberforce gave us was : 
 ' Never repeat to an educated congregation, but say 
 the thing three times over for the poor.' In more 
 senses than one they are ' hard of hearing.' 
 
 We must also bear in mind that memory is treacherous 
 — very treacherous, I was preaching in the parish 
 church, Kensington, two or three years ago, and was 
 about to quote some lines, when my memory absolutely 
 failed me. I said to the congregation : * If you will 
 kindly wait a moment I think I shall recall them.' 
 The congregation was really wonderfully kind ! It 
 waited for a few seconds in dead silence. Fortunately, 
 in that silence my memory recovered itself It is too 
 much, however, to expect that congregations will 
 ' wait awhile ' until a preacher has regained command 
 of his memory ! 
 
 I confess I am uneasy in mind when I see a young 
 man, who imagines he has the gift of utterance, going 
 into a pulpit, with nothing before him but his Bible, 
 and no notes with it. There are memoriter preachers 
 who carefully write out their sermons and then commit 
 them to memory. Such become a slave to their memory. 
 The slightest untoward interruption might sorely dis- 
 
 8
 
 114 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 quiet the preacher. He cannot avail himself of some 
 passing incident and utilize it. I remember to this 
 day hearing Dr. Guthrie preach in Edinburgh. Of 
 a sudden a bright beam of sunlight burst into and 
 diffused itself throughout the church. He immedi- 
 ately used this — took it up, as it were, by way of 
 ' illustration.' One who is a slave to manuscript can 
 find no room for utilizing a passing incident. For 
 the purposes of preaching to ordinary congregations, I 
 have no hesitation in strongly advocating extempore 
 preaching. It seems more natural. Counsel in our 
 courts of justice do not plead from manuscript : they do 
 not turn over the pages of a written address to the em- 
 panelled jury. Members of Parliament address their 
 constituents extempore. I suppose a written speech 
 would not be tolerated in the House of Lords or 
 Commons, except by the reporters, who occasionally 
 receive it beforehand to insure correctness and accuracy. 
 Does it not seem more natural in every way that a 
 preacher should speak to his people face to face, that 
 he should look at them as they look at him ? May 
 he not fetch an inspiration by thus speaking, by 
 watching signs of weariness or interest which no man 
 with face fixed on manuscript can ever get, producing 
 one of those velvet sermon cases, which I am quite 
 certain John the Baptist, ' preaching in the wilderness 
 the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins,' 
 never produced from the pocket of his 'raiment of 
 camel's hair.' 
 
 But to preach extempore does not mean lack of 
 preparation, though it saves manual labour. I have 
 often, as I listened, envied a preacher at Notre Dame, 
 who, ascending the pulpit, gave out his text and
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 115 
 
 preached powerfully and eloquently without hesitation 
 and with perfect freedom. But then he had had 
 special training to equip him for this effort. I strongly 
 advocate notes, be they few or many. You may not 
 use them, but they are there at hand. Preparing for 
 my cultured congregation at St. Philip's, Regent 
 Street, I at no time spent less than from twelve to 
 fourteen hours of manual labour. Since I have for 
 many years abandoned written sermons, I find that, 
 after reading all that can help me in my subject, 
 it never takes less than from three to four hours to 
 put down a few notes. If there be less manual labour 
 in preaching extempore, let no one suppose it requires 
 less care. Often as I have preached in the Private 
 Chapel at Windsor, I never preached any but a written 
 sermon, pardy because the time allowed was, de 
 rigueiir, twenty minutes ; secondly, because I was 
 haunted by the fear of my memory suddenly failing 
 me. It is an ' open secret' that Her Majesty pre- 
 ferred extempore preaching ; but when she kindly sent 
 me a message after my first ' command ' that ' she 
 would like to hear me again, and hoped that I should 
 be less nervous and hurried,' and this after a written 
 discourse, it was hardly likely that the following year 
 I would preach extempore I 
 
 I have it on the authority of the late Dean Wellesley 
 that on one occasion a preacher of great reputation, 
 who shall be nameless, and who has long ago passed 
 away, was ' commanded ' to preach before the Queen. 
 He was very nervous. He gave out his text. That, 
 so far, was all right and expected. He proceeded to 
 give it out a second time. This was interesting, but 
 hardly necessary, seeing it took up a few minutes out 
 
 8—2
 
 ii6 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 of his allotted twenty. He proceeded to give it out a 
 third time and — ' bolted ' ; he vanished into the vestry. 
 
 It was because one 'commanded' to preach forgot 
 to give out his text that we were requested by the 
 verger to write out our text beforehand in the vestry. 
 It was taken to the royal pew. It was extremely 
 probable that the preacher would keep to his text. 
 There may be circumstances, therefore, under which it 
 may be advisable and more safe to preach from 
 manuscript than extempore. If there are many clergy 
 and even Bishops who would not trust themselves 
 to say the Creed or even the Lord's Prayer from 
 memory, is it not more likely that either by manu- 
 script or from notes you may safeguard yourself against 
 ' treacherous memory ' ? 
 
 If, again, some cannot overcome a certain nervous- 
 ness, which is really constitutional, and should not in 
 charity be set down to any other cause, I firmly believe 
 that many more could preach ' extempore ' if they were 
 not haunted by the fear lest they should not acquit 
 themselves well. As a rule, clergy have not much 
 difficulty in * speaking extempore ' ! Witness a gather- 
 ing of clergy ! What a very Babel of voices a clerical 
 gathering represents, what chattering ! and all without 
 preparation. While the written sermon is becoming 
 less frequent, and e^ctempore preaching more general, 
 I am satisfied that the same men who converse freely 
 with one another preliminary to some meeting, or even 
 at a meeting itself, would speak equally freely in the 
 pulpit if, after due preparation, they first spoke to God ; 
 if they spread, as it were, their thoughts and notes 
 before Him in prayer; if they asked that the Holy 
 Spirit might suggest thought and clothe their words
 
 )^J)H 
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 117 
 
 * with power from on high,' and thought less as to 
 whether or not they would acquit themselves well than 
 that the * words of their mouth and the meditation of 
 their heart ' might be acceptable to God and helpful 
 to His people. _ 
 
 In conducting a 'Retreat' for clergy, I tell those 
 present of the lesson a Vicar learned of a poor man 
 who was breaking stones by the roadside. The Vicar 
 noticed that the stone-breaker was kneeling at his 
 work. Accosting his humble parishioner, he asked ' / 
 
 him : ' My good friend, why do you kneel when you 
 are breaking stones ? Why do you not stand up ?' 
 
 'Because, sir,' he replied, ' I finds I breaks them 
 best when I am kneeling.' The Vicar said to himself: 
 ' The stone-breaker has taught me a lesson. If I am / 
 ^ r e a€J^ and touch the hearts of my people, I must, ^ 
 like him, be more on my knees.' """^ 
 
 I would not encourage young men to begin too soon 
 to preach extempore. There is a great temptation to 
 do so. It is, perhaps, one of the ' subtle wiles,' etc. A 
 certain amount of confidence is requisite which at 
 twenty-three or twenty-four years of age would be 
 called ' bumptiousness.' To preach extempore you 
 must read not only your Bible, but the turned-over 
 pages which bring experience and knowledge of 
 human life. You must not only have acquired 
 a certain command over yourself, but a command of 
 language. You must not only know your Bible well, 
 but you must have acquired and speak from that 
 experience which no new-born curate can have. I 
 have heard it said that no man should speak extem- 
 pore until he has been at least ten years in Holy 
 Orders. What have not some of us heard, not only
 
 ii8 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 of crude but of ill-considered utterances, from men, 
 excellent in other respects, who have essayed extem- 
 pore preaching too soon ? I once heard a young man 
 speak of 'angels whispering through golden bars' 
 Analyze such an utterance ! Whoever saw or heard of 
 an angel zvhispering through a golden bar ? Preaching 
 on St. Peter's endeavour to walk on the sea to meet 
 Christ, I heard a young preacher say, not that ' St. 
 Peter began to sink,' but that ' St. Peter gave in at 
 the knees /' 
 
 Many more instances to the same effect, ludicrous or 
 otherwise, might be given, and when the curate is 
 preferred, say, to some populous parish, and realizes 
 the demands on his time of parochial work, he is sore 
 tempted to preach extempore. Then it is that because 
 of impoverished brain and premature practice of ex- 
 tempore preaching, his people find that he is * no 
 preacher.' That men have the gift of speaking latent 
 in them, as there is much latent power in the natural 
 kingdom which only needs some circumstance or 
 inspiration to evoke it, is shown in the fact that, called 
 on suddenly and unexpectedly to preach, the power 
 has been evoked. 
 
 I have always understood that Dr. Liddon was 
 unexpectedly surprised into extempore preaching. 
 His Bishop or som^ friend was to have preached 
 on the occasion of Liddon's first Sunday after his 
 ordination. The expected preacher failed him. A 
 text in the appointed lesson for the day seemed 
 specially to ' strike ' him as he read it. He trans- 
 ferred it to the pulpit and spoke freely on it. I 
 am also under the impression that my dear friend, 
 Dean Hole, found he had the like power. If what I
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 119 
 
 have always understood be correct, the Hght failed one 
 evening in his little church at Caunton, where I have 
 more than once 'lifted up my voice.' There was 
 nothing for it but to preach extempore. May we 
 not say, ' Would that expected preachers might more 
 often fail ! Would that gas or candle light would 
 more often go out, if the result were such as in the 
 case of two such distinguished preachers !' 
 
 To be able to dispense with light, I have reason 
 to be thankful for through cultivating extempore 
 preaching. I will not make mention of the church : 
 it is one of the largest in Yorkshire. I was invited 
 to preach at the choral festival. The church was 
 thronged with clergy, choristers, and worshippers. I 
 gave out my text, and of a sudden the church was in 
 total darkness, ' deepest gloom ' prevailed. There was 
 not a glimmer of light. And what do you . think was 
 the reason of this Cimmerian darkness ? The church- 
 wardens had for some time failed to pay their gas bill. 
 The Gas Company thus avenged themselves — rather 
 hard on ' innocent me ' ! They cut off the supply at 
 an agreed moment. I suppose in modern language it 
 would be called ' the psychological moment.' Psycho- 
 logical or vengeful I know not, but I said, pulling 
 myself immediately together : ' If you good people do 
 not mind listening in the dark, I do not mind speaking 
 in the dark.' Thus were these evil designs and wicked 
 devices on the part of the Gas Company baulked and 
 frustrated ! 
 
 May I, who now almost invariably preach extempore, 
 be allowed to say that, with all its faults and imperfec- 
 tions, I discovered that to a certain extent God had 
 bestowed upon me this gift of utterance ? I took
 
 I20 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 charge one summer, now many years ago, of the small 
 and most beautiful parish, also one of the smallest 
 churches in the diocese, of Welsh Bicknor on the 
 banks of the Wye. There was no one who could play 
 the organ, so I was known as ' the gentleman who 
 played, preached, and prayed.' I used to go from the 
 reading-desk to the small organ close by. I felt that 
 the sermons which were more fitted for the cultured 
 and educated who frequented my ministry at St. 
 Philip's, Regent Street, were not adapted to the ' plain 
 folk' at Welsh Bicknor. I decided on preaching 
 extempore. I earnestly asked my dear wife, long 
 since with God, not to come. It would only embarrass 
 me. She so far consented that she did not sit in her 
 accustomed place in the little church, but, woman-like, 
 as I eventually discovered, she concealed herself 
 behind a curtain ! I experienced no difficulty, through 
 the help of God, in speaking from a few notes, which I 
 have ever since kept, and have labelled ' My First 
 Extempore Sermon !' It spread like wildfire over all the 
 neighbourhood that there was an extempore preacher 
 at Welsh Bicknor. I have the newspaper notices of it. 
 Some said : ' He certainly is not Church of England,' 
 for in that neighbourhood not a single clergyman 
 preached extempore. The church and churchyard 
 were filled on Sunday evenings. I see, as I write, the 
 people being conveyed in boats across the perilous 
 Wye. I was asked to preach at one of the largest 
 churches in that district. I took with me a sermon 
 preached at St. Philip's. The church was simply 
 packed with people. They were sitting in what I 
 always think must be a most uncomfortable sort of 
 ' pew ' — the window-sills. As I was vesting in the
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 121 
 
 vestry, I happened to put my manuscript on the 
 table. The Vicar could not conceal his astonishment 
 and dismay ; he seized my manuscript and retained it ! 
 ' I cannot allow it, sir ; the people are here in crowds 
 to hear an extempore preacher as a rara avis. You 
 vmst preach extempore !' What alternative had I, 
 with my manuscript in the Vicar's possession, deter- 
 minedly, relentlessly withheld from me ? 
 
 There are occasions when a carefully prepared sermon 
 is of a sudden put aside and the preacher is moved to 
 speak without it. This is not so much being taken un- 
 awares as that the preacher feels that the occasion sug- 
 gests if not demands it. I invited the late Archbishop 
 Thomson to preach at the opening of Halifax parish 
 church after restoration. Rarely have I heard any ser- 
 mons so thoughtful, clothed in such nervous language, 
 as his. I said to him the evening before, meeting him at 
 Sir Henry Edward's house : ' Now, your Grace, give 
 us one of your very best sermons. There is no one on 
 the Bench of Bishops more equal to the occasion than 
 yourself I have reason to know he had written 
 specially for that service. To my surprise, there was 
 no manuscript before him. He preached extempore, 
 taking a text out of the appointed service. He told 
 me that, when he saw that vast congregation filling the 
 grand old parish church to its utmost capacity, he felt 
 constrained to ' speak to the people.' His sermon was 
 simplicity itself, so much so as to occasion the remark : 
 ' Eh ! to think an Archbishop could speak so plain- 
 like.' 
 
 There are other, but less pleasant, ways of being 
 taken by surprise. Possibly some brother clergyman, 
 reading this, has shared my experience. I mean occa-
 
 122 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 sions which need special prayers for help from God. 
 I give one or two within my own experience as illus- 
 trative of what I mean. I always keep the letter 
 conveying an invitation, that I can produce it if 
 need be. I was invited to preach at the harvest 
 festival in St. Michael's, Coventry, in the evening, 
 I was walking down with the Vicar to morning 
 service, when he suddenly said to me : ' What 
 text are you taking this morning ?' ' None,' I 
 replied. ' Are you in the habit of preaching without 
 a text ?' ' Never,' I replied. * Then, what do you 
 mean .'*' ' I am not going to preach this morning. 
 Here is your letter. You invite me for the evening.' 
 Baynes had great readiness of utterance, and preached 
 an admirable sermon. 
 
 Apropos of Baynes, whose end was inexpressibly 
 sad, he was such an imitator of Bishop Wilberforce, as 
 well as being somewhat like him in stature and 
 personal appearance, that it was commonly said after 
 Bishop Wilberforce's sudden death, that if Baynes had 
 worn lawn sleeves he might have kept some of the 
 Bishop's engagements for some time. Bishop Wilber- 
 force was once very angry with Baynes. The Bishop 
 was announced to preach at St. Michael's. There was a 
 vast congregation. Just before service a telegram was 
 received in the vestry to the effect that the Bishop was 
 ill and could not come. Dismay was felt in the vestry. 
 ' W^hat shall we do ?' said the churchwardens. ' We 
 must, of course, pray for him,' replied Baynes ; and he 
 directed his curate to pray for the Bishop in the prayer 
 for ' all conditions of men.' ' Your prayers are desired 
 for the Bishop of Oxford, who is seriously ill.' There 
 was a short pause for very special intercession. For
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 123 
 
 the time this quieted and satisfied the disappointed 
 congregation. Unfortunately, on the Tuesday follow- 
 ing an announcement appeared in the local papers that 
 Bishop Wilberforce was present, in apparently perfect 
 health, at a garden-party on Monday, that his lordship 
 was the life and soul of the party, etc. It seemed to 
 the people of Coventry rather strange that his lordship 
 was so ill on Sunday that he should be prayed for, and 
 that he should be ' disporting himself at a garden-party 
 the day following. Most people would think the same, 
 and would not understand that you really might be 
 taken ill and not feel equal to the effort of preaching, 
 but be ' all right and fit ' next day. Someone, how- 
 ever, commented on this to Baynes. He got out of 
 the difficulty by saying : ' Vozi see the effect of 02tr 
 special prayers for the Bishop! What more could be 
 said ? 
 
 But apropos to being surprised into having to 
 preach, I was asked to preach at Driffield. The 
 journey from Halifax to Driffield being * long and 
 weary,' I left home by an early train that I might have 
 a little rest and quiet before evening service. The 
 Vicar met me at the station. He said he was 
 coming to the afternoon service. I asked him to 
 excuse me, as I was tired, and to allow me to drive to 
 the Vicarage. To my amazement he replied : ' Why, 
 you are preaching this afternoon as well as this even- 
 ing.' In vain I showed him his own letter, inviting me 
 for \}!\^ eve7mig. The service was at 3 p.m., and there 
 were only ten minutes to spare ! There was no help 
 for it. As we drove to the church I noticed bills 
 posted on the walls : ' Harvest Festival in connection 
 with the restoration of the parish church.' I made up
 
 124 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 my mind there and then. As I had been preaching at 
 several churches at their harvest festivals, harvest 
 festival was ' on my brain.' I found the church filled, 
 not only with people, but with a considerable number 
 of clergy, out-and-out the most severe and not always 
 most kind critics. I asked the Vicar to allow me to 
 remain in the vestry during the prayers. I put 
 together a few notes, and knelt down and prayed that 
 I might be ' endued with power from on high.' Never 
 did Evensong seem to come so quickly to a close ! It 
 came to my knowledge that my afternoon sermon, com- 
 posed under these conditions, was generally preferred 
 to that over which I had bestowed no little pains for 
 the evening ! 
 
 And what slips and even ridiculous words may escape 
 your lips even when you have made careful prepara- 
 tion ! I have too good reason for saying this. It is 
 remembered of me to this day at Sheffield. I was the 
 selected speaker at the meeting for women at -the 
 Sheffield Congress. I had been pointing out the open- 
 ings and opportunities for women in Church work. I 
 proceeded to say : ' Next to opportunity we think of 
 the instruments fitted to the opportunity. Naturally, 
 our thoughts turn to widows, who are " widows indeed," 
 whom God has taken aside from the world by sorrow 
 for a life of devotion, to His service.' I was thinking, 
 secondly, of unmarjded wonten. Why I did not say 
 ' unmarried women ' I cannot understand. I did not 
 like to use the old-fashioned word ' spinster,' so I said : 
 ' Next we think of those women whose prospects of 
 marriage are slowly fading.' There was a roar of 
 laughter, in which the Archbishop joined. I depre- 
 cated this ' unseemly merriment ' on a sacred theme as
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 125 
 
 best I could. I went on to say, adding fuel to the fire: 
 ' Many of whom I have in my mind's eye' Another 
 outburst of laughter. Someone sitting beside my wife 
 remarked : ' Mrs. Pigou, what have you to say to all 
 this Y I really was thinking of many grown-up 
 daughters in the families of clergy and laity who 
 might identify themselves with work for Christ. I 
 came down after all this and sat by my wife, to show 
 those present that we were not contemplating separa- 
 tion. 
 
 By far the most trying experience I have had was 
 at the Wakefield Congress, where, again, and notwith- 
 standing the Sheffield incident, I was invited to speak 
 at the ' Meeting for Women.' I was put down as the 
 second speaker. Miss Mason was to follow. The 
 present Bishop of Ripon sent me a note to the effect 
 that Miss Mason had to go by an early train, would I 
 mind letting her speak before me, and would I go, 
 while she was speaking, to the parish church and 
 address the ' overflow ' meeting there. Of course, the 
 request coming from the Bishop of the diocese, was 
 practically a 'command'; I feel, however, very strongly 
 that there should be no departure at our Congresses 
 from the order of speakers as published and expected. 
 
 For the same thing happened to me at the Wolver- 
 hampton Congress. I was set down as the first reader 
 of a paper on 'The Devotional Use of Hymns.' The 
 present Archbishop of York, at whose special request 
 I prepared the paper, sent me a message to the same 
 effect. The reader after me discovered he had to 
 ' catch a train,' and again I had to give way. How 
 did he know that I might not, in the busy life I was 
 living, have to catch my trains also ?
 
 126 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 The distance of the parish church of Wakefield 
 from the Town Hall is about a five or ten minutes' 
 walk. I assumed that the ' overflow ' meeting would 
 consist of women. On the contrary, the grand church 
 was full to overflowing, and a large proportion of the 
 congregation was not women but men. 
 
 Never in all my life and ministerial experience has a 
 greater strain been put upon me. The service before 
 the address was very short, a few prayers and a hymn. 
 I had to alter the whole address. Never did I pray 
 more earnesdy ' in secret ' in the vestry for grace and 
 help in time of need. I seemed directed to speak on 
 'Personal Influence,' and was asked to publish the 
 address. It is no exaggeration to say that this was at 
 the cost, having a weak heart, of two days' absolute 
 rest. 
 
 If some clergy should be careful, in writing invitations, 
 either not to mean two sermons when they ask for one, 
 or, as in a well-known case, in forgetfulness, asking 
 four men to preach on the same evening, I think care 
 should be taken that no man should, if possible, be 
 called on to speak ' of a sudden.' It is not well that 
 anyone should be thought of as one who can speak, or 
 would care to speak, without thought, preparation, and 
 prayer. 
 
 From the subject of preaching, and the comparative 
 advantage or recommendation of written or extempore 
 preaching, it seems natural to bestow some thought on the 
 appointed place from which to preach — in other words, 
 the ' Pulpit.' There are occasions when it is both con- 
 venient and effective to speak from the steps of the 
 Chancel or from the Lectern. This is our frequent 
 custom who conduct 'missions' or 'retreats.' It
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 127 
 
 divests the address of the formality of the pulpit ; it 
 seems more 'homely.' But for the general and not 
 exceptional occasions of preaching, pulpit and sermon, 
 sermon and pulpit, are married to each other. Now 
 that we do not preach from rood-screen, the pulpit 
 stands midway between font and altar. We must look 
 for its origin to the ' brazen scaffold ' which Solomon 
 set in the midst of the Temple, and the ' pulpit ' of 
 wood from which Ezra read the Book of the Law,* 
 which they had made for the purpose. The posi- 
 tion of the pulpit is as troublesome a question as 
 that of the organ. I often say that if architects had to 
 robe or to preach they would never so place an organ 
 that it is next to impossible to have prayers in the 
 vestry before or after service. The organ, unless 
 the organist be requested to play very ' piano,' 
 drowns all other voices, and the prayers, if not a 
 farce, are practically inaudible. Neither would they 
 invariably go in for high, vaulted Gothic roofs, 
 fatal to the human voice and to carrying power. 
 One of the easiest and most helpful churches in 
 which to preach is Halifax parish church. The flat 
 though false roof that we retained is a prolonged 
 ' sounding-board,' and the weakest voice may be clearly 
 heard. I am not now writing of cathedrals or churches, 
 where there are two pulpits — ^.^., Westminster Abbey, 
 where a large congregation can be accommodated 
 in choir and transept. There can be no doubt 
 where to place the pulpit, and where we have, as in 
 most of our cathedrals, large gatherings in the nave, 
 it at once suggests itself that you should place the 
 pulpit, as in foreign churches, in the centre of the nave. 
 * 2 Chron. vi. 13 ; Neh. viii. 4.
 
 128 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 It is simple ignorance of the laws of sound to place a 
 pulpit, as at Doncaster parish church, underneath a 
 tower. Sound ascends, and the effect of placing a 
 pulpit immediately under a tower is that the sermon 
 reaches the tower, for which it is not intended, written 
 or extempore, before it reaches the people, for whom it 
 is intended. I grant that acoustics are among the 
 unsolved problems of all public buildings. They share 
 this with theories or methods of ventilation. If you 
 place your pulpit at the chancel steps, those near hear, 
 but not those far off I believe that the best place is 
 au milieu of the nave, with a pillar at your back. To 
 my mind a ' sounding-board ' is worse than useless. 
 Wherever I could, I have removed it and converted 
 it into a very handsome and serviceable vestry table. So 
 far from assisting the voice, your voice seems hurled 
 back upon you. They are also, as a rule, unsightly, and 
 if not carefully secured, Damocles' sword, with its im- 
 pending danger, is nothing to it. So, also, I have 
 never found any help in wires, like so many telegraph- 
 wires stretched across the nave. I cannot dissociate 
 them from a sort of trapeze arrangement. How much 
 depends on having an ear for music ! It is well known 
 that every room, even every glass, has its own note. 
 
 People confuse echo and resonance. An echo repeats 
 your voice ; resonance is the very * stones crying out.' 
 You sound the correct note of the building, say A^ or 
 GH, and the building takes it up, and your voice resounds 
 and reverberates. A pillar at the back of the pulpit, or, 
 as in some Roman Catholic churches, a large shell- 
 shaped structure, assists the voice as no sounding-board 
 and no wires can do. I venture to write from no small 
 experience. I doubt that few, save our Bishops and
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 129 
 
 missioners, have had larger, for I have preached in 
 almost all our cathedrals and in hundreds of churches, 
 both small and great. There are pulpits and pulpits ! 
 The smallest I have ever preached in was barely large 
 enough to contain me, after considerable effort to get 
 into it. Some of the old Jacobean pulpits are not very 
 ' accommodating.' The largest pulpit I have ever 
 preached in is that in Great Yarmouth parish church, 
 where I conducted the ten days' mission. As on the 
 closing evening of that mission 6,000 people were 
 present, the church covering an acre in area, one can 
 understand the necessity of a sort of ambulatory pulpit. 
 It more nearly, save for the brass, approaches Solomon's 
 ' brazen scaffold ' than any I am aware of. 
 
 Writing to me on the subject of Preaching, a clergy- 
 man* says : ' I am coming to the conclusion that a 
 good sermon, of which every word is heard in every 
 part of a large church, is almost one of the wonders of 
 the age. I often ask myself which is better, a bad 
 sermon which can be heard, or a good sermon which 
 cannot be heard. And, again, whether is happier, 
 the man who thinks he is heard through his much 
 brawling, or the man who is not heard and does not 
 worry.' 
 
 Few people who have not to preach can realize how 
 much depends on the position and structure of a pulpit to 
 allow a preacher to feel at his ease. There are up and 
 down the country many beautiful examples of ancient 
 as also of modern pulpits of wood, stone, alabaster, and 
 marble, on which architects and carvers in wood and 
 stone have displayed much skill and taste. Natu- 
 rally they have thought more of the outside than of the 
 * Herbert Pentin. 
 
 9
 
 f ^ 
 
 130 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 inside of their work, more of the exterior of the pulpit 
 than of him who occupies it. The structure of a pulpit 
 as regards convenience in Church work is not always 
 the best kind of ' lay-help.' 
 
 Fortunately — happily for the preacher — the ' three- 
 decker ' is becoming extinct like the dodo. Who 
 of the elders of this generation does not recall the 
 ' three decker,' anything but a ' song of degrees ' for 
 him who had to climb up its steep and tortuous stair- 
 case, holding on by a banister, lest you should say, 
 ' My feet had wellnigh gone, my treadings had well- 
 nigh slipped'.-* If the real reason assigned by some 
 for the sounding - board be that they were really 
 necessary where pulpits were separate buildings, as at 
 St. Paul's Cross, at the Cross Pulpit at Norwich and 
 other places, as a protection for the preacher against 
 inclement weather, who can assign the real reason of 
 the ' three-decker ' structure ? Partly, I suppose, it 
 arose from undue prominence being given to preaching, 
 and was so placed as to shut out of view ' the Holy 
 Table.' A church was frequented not so much to 
 wo rship as to hear a particular preacher. The sermon, 
 not the service, was the subject of conversation and 
 comment. It needed George Herbert to remove such 
 
 ideas : 
 
 ' Resort to sermons, but to prayers most ; 
 Praying is the end of preaching.' 
 
 The question at one time was very frequent, ' WAo 
 do you sit under?' It was not 'What church do 
 you attend ?' It is told of a congregation that they 
 habitually slept during the prayers and woke up for 
 the sermon, the reverse of more modern ways ! 
 
 1 remember one who said, as a justification for
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 131 
 
 taking a ' nap ' during the sermon : ' You see active- 
 minded men are not in the habit of sitting with their 
 hands before them, doing nothing, for half an hour.' 
 I have seen men in ' high places,' i.e., cathedral Stalls, 
 falling into deep sleep. They might give themselves 
 an occasional pinch to ward off this attack of drowsi- 
 ness. How curious it is that few people suffer from 
 insomnia in our churches ! It is told, and on good 
 authority, that a Bishop, who has long ago passed 
 away, was in the habit of falling asleep during 
 prayers and sermon. When he woke he con- 
 sidered that he was called upon or the ' psychological 
 moment ' had arrived for him to pronounce the 
 Benediction, no matter when the time of his awaken- 
 ing came. A naughty choir-boy, seeing his lordship 
 fast asleep during the Litany, let fall a heavy book 
 with a loud bang on the floor ! The Bishop woke up, 
 rose in his throne, and pronounced the Benediction. 
 A dear, quaint, old-fashioned aunt of mine particu- 
 larly disliked the expression 'sitting under.' Being 
 asked, ' And pray who do you sit under T she quietly 
 replied, ' My seat is in the gallery .'' 
 
 There seems to have been an unholy rivalry between 
 pulpit and gallery as to which should ' rank highest.' 
 At first I believe the pulpit was placed at a moderate 
 height above the congregation, not much more than 
 ' six feet above challenge.' By degrees small, low 
 galleries were erected at the west end, suggested, so 
 some think, by the rood-screen at the eastern end ; 
 next the organ was removed ; then ' the singers 
 followed after '; next galleries were raised higher and 
 higher. In St. Philip's, Regent Street, e.g., there are 
 two galleries, one above the other ; in the old parish 
 
 9—2
 
 132 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 church of Whitby there are three. The pulpit had 
 to keep pace with this gallery growth. When the 
 gallery had nearly reached the ceiling — it could not 
 conveniently go higher — how could its inhabitants see 
 the preacher from that dizzy height ? The pulpit 
 only could solve this ; it had to follow such a lead. 
 Next the prayer-desk asserted its claim to promotion. 
 Then the clerk must be provided for, and he put in 
 his claim for advancement. So by degrees was brought 
 about the hideous, unsightly ' three-decker,' which, 
 whatever other properties it could boast of, was 
 certainly lacking in 'the proportion of faith.' The 
 idea was that everyone might see the preacher. It 
 never occurred to anyone that the preacher should 
 have the same power as that of the fly, which Dr. 
 Dallinger has established conclusively consists of some 
 thousand separate eyes. 
 
 Who of us who have known the ' three-decker 
 epoch ' does not recall the uncomfortable feeling of 
 being, and most unnecessarily, followed by the clerk, 
 introduced, as it were, to the pulpit, and, after 
 the door was shut upon you, a seat was let down as a 
 sort of barrier to any exit ? All one's feelings resented 
 this ' closure.' I found all this at St. Philip's. I took 
 the door off its hinges, and to this day remember 
 my fear lest Dean Hook, who was preaching and 
 moved about a good deal as he preached, should fall 
 out backwards. 
 
 With the 'three-decker' was associated the cushion. 
 * Why I cannot tell, but this I know full well,' there 
 was the cushion, superseded now by brass desk and 
 embroidered frontal. It is said of some clergyman 
 that he always knew if the Gospel was preached in
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 133 
 
 a church by its cushion in the pulpit. If much 
 dust was raised in striking it, the Gospel was not 
 preached, and vice versa. How is it that soft 
 cushions are still thought requisite on the Holy 
 Table, as I found them in Bristol Cathedral ? How 
 and wherein do these material things ' voice party ' ? 
 And yet, again, what a trouble brass desks may be ! 
 Sometimes they are fixed immovably, so as not to allow 
 of being raised or lowered according to the stature of 
 the preacher. If you are short-sighted, you have to 
 make some arrangement, generally using a Bible (to 
 be regretted) as a sort of impromptu desk. 
 
 At other times there is a most puzzling supply and 
 arrangement of cushions or small footstools inside 
 the pulpit, by which you can raise or lower yourself 
 at will. Spurgeon once said — being of short stature, 
 and provision being made for him to adapt himself to 
 particular heights, by piling cushion on cushion — that he 
 ' found it difficult to be a Blondin and a Boanerges at 
 the same time.' The late Bishop Walsham How, who 
 had a keen sense of humour, told me he was much 
 ' tickled ' by what a verger, on seeing him, said : ' I 
 knowed you were a-coming to preach; — I looked at yer, 
 and I says to myself, " He'll look in a tub," and I have 
 given you some'at to stand upon.' You find a brass 
 desk, which the Vicar assures you ' moves with the 
 greatest ease.' You find it has not been for a 
 long time oiled or altered. The moment you begin 
 to adapt it to your use all the congregation take a 
 deep interest in it, as they do when on a summer's 
 day a wasp finds its way into church, and, I sup- 
 pose, attracted by the surplice, generally pays the 
 most annoying attention to the preacher. Either the
 
 134 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 desk suddenly mounts up to your face or as suddenly 
 collapses. Choir-boys in particular watch all this 
 with unfeigned delight. Sometimes you have a board 
 or platform which you cannot remove, which raises you 
 far beyond your wishes. Lamp and lights do not 
 respond to your touch. On one occasion a Bishop's 
 lawn sleeves caught fire, and, with considerable presence 
 of mind, his lordship quietly extinguished the flames. 
 Worst of all is the electric light. It is made in some 
 cases to shine full, by special arrangement, in front 
 of and on your notes ; you have no power over it. 
 The Vicar says : * You have only to touch a small 
 button, and our light acts beautifully.' You look in 
 vain for this small button answering to the slightest 
 touch. Some pulpits are approached by very devious 
 paths. One or more are entered through a pillar. It 
 is so at Arundel. Preaching there at a harvest 
 festival on passing down the church I saw what, of 
 course, I did not see on my entering the pulpit, that 
 I was set in a frame of roses. It was like those 
 photograph frames with their edging of flowers and I 
 in the midst ! 
 
 And oh ! what varied experience preaching at 
 harvest festivals, as a rule bright and happy occasions, 
 affords you. Some of my clerical readers may have 
 had my experience,, that of apples, oranges, and 
 even small melons, placed loosely and abundantly on 
 the sill of the pulpit. You make a forgetful and in- 
 cautious movement of your hand ; away goes an apple 
 in one direction or a melon in the other, to the 
 great annoyance, and even alarm, of someone sitting 
 under the pulpit ! It comes like the pom-pom, striking 
 the eye or even falling on a bonnet. It is not always
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 135 
 
 safe under these circumstances to sit within ' their 
 range.' I remember in Doncaster parish church 
 a lady had hit upon the device of covering laurel 
 leaves with Epsom salts to make it all, as she said, 
 ' look bright and sparkling.' The Mayor's seat was 
 close below. He at once recognised what he was 
 in the habit of taking and said to me : ' Nay, but 
 I think, Vicar, it was not nice putting them Epsom 
 salts so near me on Christmas Day.' If at a smart 
 wedding I have found myself environed with palms, 
 emerging from a small tropical forest to proceed to 
 'join together this man and this woman in holy 
 matrimony,' so I might write a short chapter on 
 my experience of harvest festivals. They are sunny 
 opportunities in ministerial life. One meets in 
 pleasant intercourse clergy and their friends, who do 
 their best to give you both hearty welcome and kind 
 hospitality ; but sometimes the decorations, etc., are 
 trying — very trying. In Paris a lady who, as the 
 Yorkshire people expressively say, * had a tile off' — 
 timbrd is the French equivalent ; Anglice, ' a bee in 
 her bonnet ' — offered to assist. Her idea was as 
 original as it was ghastly. I assigned her, being some- 
 what suspicious of her, the front of the west gallery, 
 as everyone would be facing east and we have no 
 eyes at the back of the head. Her plan and idea of 
 decoration was this : First, a strip of blue paper, which 
 stretched the length of the gallery. On this was put 
 a large cabbage leaf ; next to this a large piece of 
 cotton-wool ; next a cabbage leaf ; next cotton-wool, 
 not even made * bright and shining ' with Epsom salts ; 
 next a leaf; next wool, 7csque ad fi7iein. In about half 
 an hour all the cabbage-leaves had turned yellow !
 
 136 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 She asked me how I liked it. I could only say * it 
 had undoubtedly the merit of originality.' This so 
 gratified her that she expressed her regret that I had 
 not seen good to let her decorate the pulpit ! 
 
 I think, on the whole, my most trying ordeal was at 
 a small church in Yorkshire. The people had never 
 had a harvest festival in their church, and had resolved 
 it should be ' fust-rate.' There was an awful brass 
 band in the gallery. Sousa could not surpass it for 
 loudness. The church had been fresh painted and 
 varnished. The varnish was not dry, and your sur- 
 plice stuck to the pew doors as flies to smeared paper. 
 To crown all, as something quite new, the altar rails 
 were filled in with large sticks of fresh celery. What 
 between the lusty brass band, the smell of varnish and 
 of celery, it was all I could do to refrain from a ' faint.' 
 Added to all this, the pulpit steps and handrail were 
 sticky with varnish, and as the small church was 
 crowded, close and stifling for want of open windows, 
 I leave the reader to imagine a kind of Black Hole 
 of Calcutta ! I doubt that in any church in England 
 decorations were more artistic and beautiful than in 
 those of Doncaster and Halifax, but I think that not 
 a few will agree with me that decoration is apt to be 
 overdone. 
 
 Before closing this part of my subject, one cannot 
 ignore one or two other matters. There is the gradual 
 disuse of the black gown in favour of the surplice. 
 Even in our cathedrals we allow, as used not to be, an 
 invited preacher to preach in the surplice. In my 
 London days, both at St. James's, Piccadilly, and in 
 my own adjoining church, the black gown was in- 
 variably used, as also the wearing of ' bands.' Over
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 137 
 
 and over again, when invited to preach in a cathedral, 
 I have had to conform to the ' use ' and wear a black 
 gown, to distinguish me from the ' cathedral body ' 
 — black for white. Bands have, I fancy, disappeared, 
 though so recently as the days of our late beloved Queen 
 it was de rigzieur to wear bands when we preached 
 before her. Was there not some rihial in retiring 
 into the vestry and changing your vestment as much 
 as in retaining and preaching in the surplice? It is no 
 longer a badge of party, and it is difficult to realize 
 what particular doctrine a black gown or a surplice 
 represents and symbolizes. What a change has 
 gradually and quietly been brought about in connec- 
 tion with what not many years ago was the occasion 
 of so much dispute and religious acrimony, as if the 
 Gospel of Christ could not be preached save in a black 
 gown ! Is it not astonishing that in this enlightened 
 age such prejudices could still exist ? Do not some of 
 the ablest representatives of the Evangelical School 
 preach nowadays in the surplice } Has this in any 
 way altered or affected their message and ministry ? 
 
 In connection with the prejudice in favour of wearing 
 the black gown, I do not know if many have heard 
 this, of many anecdotes told of ' S. Oxon.' The 
 occasion was the opening of a church after restoration. 
 There was a procession of clergy. In the procession 
 were two clergymen who vowed that nothing would 
 induce them to wear the surplice. The Vicar was in 
 dismay as he saw these black spots in the surroundings 
 of white. He begged them for at least this occasion 
 to conform to the rest. ' No,' they said ; ' we must be 
 true and faithful to our convictions.' ' Oh, leave this 
 to me,' said ' S. Oxon.' Stepping up to one of them,
 
 138 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 he said : ' Mr. So-and-so, would you do me the favour 
 of reading the first lesson ?' ' Certainly, my lord, with 
 pleasure.' To the second said the Bishop : * Would 
 you do me the favour to read the second lesson ?' 
 ' Certainly, my lord ; I shall be most pleased.' Who 
 but ' S, Oxon.' would have hit on the solution of the 
 problem of ' black and white ?' 
 
 That not a little ignorance still prevails as to vest- 
 ments a recent illustration will serve to show. A 
 friend of mine had put on his cassock, and had for- 
 gotten to put on the girdle. The verger said : 
 ' Please, sir, you have forgotten to put on your 
 sursum corda' Though not strictly applicable to 
 clerical vestments, this is too good to be lost. Very 
 recently a lady was leaving her house for Divine 
 service. She had forgotten to take her small reticule or 
 bag, as is now commonly worn. Her maid said to her : 
 ' Please, ma'am, you have forgotten your appendicitis !' 
 
 A young curate was having his first clerical suit 
 tried on, and was rather anxious not to be identified 
 with any particular party of the Church. The tailor set 
 his mind at rest by assuring him that he had made his 
 suit so that it should accommodate itself to all parties — 
 clever tailor ! 
 
 If pulpits be varied and various, how varied is the 
 * use ' in different churches. Is this an advantage or dis- 
 advantage ? It is certainly perplexing. I invariably 
 ask, when preaching in another man's church : ' What 
 do you do, and what do you not do ?' I hold very 
 strongly that ' when you are at Rome, you must do as 
 Rome does.' To my mind it is bad taste — to say the 
 least of it — to preach in another man's church and 
 practically to protest against his 'use ' by not conforming
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 139 
 
 to it. It is perfectly open to a man to say : ' I do not 
 honestly approve your ways and cannot accept your 
 invitation,' but if you do accept, you for the time accept 
 the 'use.' If he does not turn to the east at the Creed 
 I do not protest against this by turning. If he comes 
 to our cathedral I expect him to conform to our * use,' 
 as he expects me to conform to his. I preached at 
 three different churches on one and the same Sunday. 
 In the first the ' Invocation ' was used before the 
 sermon ; in the second, no invocation and no prayer ; 
 in the third, ' any Collect I liked to choose.' Personally, 
 though I introduced the Invocation in Bristol Cathedral 
 for conformity's sake, I rather miss the old-fashioned 
 Collect, for which I grant there is no extant authority. 
 For that matter, there is no authority for the Invocation. 
 I use the Collect of the Office for the Ordering of 
 Priests, ' Most merciful Father,' at our Evening Nave 
 service. So, again, in the matter of vestments, How 
 various the use ! Some clergy still wear surplices like 
 unto large, enveloping nightgowns ; some which reach 
 about up to their hips ; some wear stoles in accordance 
 with the Church's season, hoping to accentuate or 
 enforce Church teaching by white, red, or green stoles ; 
 others discard stoles, or have an obscure reason for 
 not putting them on before a certain time. 
 
 Preaching at a particular church, in my innocence I 
 vested myself with my scarf in the vestry. The curate 
 asked me if I would mind putting it on before the 
 Magnificat. Some have hoods, extraordinary projec- 
 tions just behind the neck ; others wear no hoods. 
 
 Preaching in a church where the Vicar wore a tippet, 
 he asked me to arrange it for him. Not realizing it 
 was a ' tippet,' I gave it a strong pull downwards.
 
 I40 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 which nearly strangled him. He said : ' Oh, do not 
 pull like that ; it goes no further.' I was so sorry, for 
 I really did not mean to strangle him. Perhaps the 
 variety of hoods is as remarkable as anything ; they 
 are of such varied colours, size, pattern. I have a 
 vision before me of a clergyman who wore an enormous 
 hood of yellow. It looked in the distance like the 
 ' elytron ' of a beetle. Some clergy wear a biretta, 
 some prefer their college cap, some no headgear of 
 any kind. And here what ignorance prevails ! A 
 lady of very strong proclivities was much scandalized 
 by seeing a clergyman with a biretta, which he, for 
 a moment, put under his arm. ' To think,' she ex- 
 claimed, ' that he should wear a tonstcre which I 
 thought was always worn on the head !' 
 
 I here confess to being the author of a picture many 
 years ago which appeared in Punch, ' A Sweet Thing 
 in Vestments,' drawn for me by one of the Earl of 
 Radnor's sons. It was of a young, good-looking 
 curate ; the hood was full of mistletoe, and his stole of 
 creeping ivy. A Dean's or King's Chaplain's broad 
 scarf relieves one from the necessity of putting up in 
 one's bag anything else. And yet here, again, shall we 
 ever attain to uniformity in vestments as in the Roman 
 Communion and as in the free churches ? Shall we 
 regard this as amongst a^iacpopa, ' things indifferent ' ; not 
 puerilities, but as allowable and appertaining to the 
 differing schools of thought, in which lies probably the 
 safety of the National Church ? And shall we say of 
 pulpits and vestments : 
 
 ' In things essential, unity ; 
 In things indifferent, Hberty ; 
 In all things, charity ' ?
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 141 
 
 It comes within the scope of this chapter to say a 
 word about locum tenencies, arranged for by the 
 S.P.G. and the Church and Continental Society, As 
 holiday- time approaches, the ' religious organs,' 
 Guardian, Chtirch Times, Record, etc., advertise both 
 offers and applicants for locum tenencies. I have had 
 considerable experience of a locum tenency both abroad 
 and at home. I give below those that I can recall, 
 dotted over many years.* A locum tenency brings with 
 it an experience of its own. I am afraid I commit 
 myself to an ' old chestnut,' in repeating what is old to 
 some, but possibly new to others. A clergyman called 
 at a vicarage in the absence of the Vicar. Inquiring 
 of 'Betsy Jane' if her master was at home, she 
 replied : 'No, sir, master is gone abroad, but the 
 local demon is here.' 
 
 In a parish of which I had charge there were four 
 small grocers' shops. To avoid any friction, the Vicar 
 asked me to sfive our custom to all four in turn — a 
 safe arrangement. The shops were all very small. 
 On leaving, the churchwarden said to me : ' Very sorry, 
 sir, you are going, hope you will come again. We 
 have been fortunate in our "supplies."' Thinking he 
 meant these four provision stores, I replied : ' I sup- 
 pose it is rather difficult to get stores in these out-of- 
 the-way parts .f*' 'Oh, sir,' he replied ; ' I don't mean 
 tea and sugar, I mean gen'l'men like you.' I was not 
 
 * West Moreton ; Llanidan ; Strathfieldsaye ; Welsh Bicknor ; 
 Woodlands, near Hungerford (five summers in succession) ; Bam- 
 ford ; Castleton ; Brackley ; Colne St. Aldwyn ; Quennington ; 
 Charlestown ; Hensbridge ; Luccombe ; Kingsdon ; Whitby ; Grin- 
 delwald ; Vichy ; for a short time Homburg ; Christ Church, Neuilly, 
 for two winters.
 
 142 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 aware that a ' supply ' was synonymous with locum 
 tciiens. 
 
 Dear Whitby, its parish church and indefatigable 
 Rector, Canon Austen ! It were a daring hand that 
 would touch that parish church ! They say in Whitby, 
 ' Even the Dean of Bristol dare not.' Who that 
 knows that delightful seaside resort has not over 
 and over again counted the steps which lead to the 
 parish church ? For internal arrangements it probably 
 stands unique. The pulpit leads out of a reading-desk 
 made to accommodate two clergy, gallery rises upon 
 gallery, with an organ stowed away in the upper regions, 
 scarcely visible. I forget how many private entrances 
 there are to private pews. A gallery shuts out all 
 view of the Holy Table. I remember so well on one 
 particular occasion preaching there, and from the altar 
 rails I could only see the back of a liveried footman with 
 two shining buttons, to which I read the Ten Com- 
 mandments. When I emerged from this obscurity to 
 the pulpit, I faced 2,000 people, and the hearty congre- 
 gational singing is something to be remembered. The 
 good folk of Whitby ' love to have it so ' — why not ? 
 Nothing short of the fretting of the sea below will ever 
 make ' t'ould parish church,' with its associations and 
 traditions, to be a thing of the past. 
 
 A locum tencncy ^ has its advantages and dis- 
 advantages. If you go abroad it means an entire 
 change, such as only going abroad can give. It is 
 a thorough change of scene, habits of life, language, 
 dieting, and the meeting of old friends in the incoming 
 and outgoing of tourists. A chaplaincy abroad is full of 
 opportunity. It is lamentable to think how the Church 
 of England is represented abroad in the matter of
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 143 
 
 ' places of worship,' and of the wrong impressions 
 given to foreigners. It will take many years to dis- 
 abuse the minds of foreigners as to what the Church 
 of England really is, with her stately cathedrals, parish 
 churches, and services. Travelling with a Dominican 
 Friar from San Remo, he asked me if we had Holy 
 Baptism and Holy Communion in the Church of 
 England! Pere Loyson more than once said to me 
 that, if we could have in Paris one of our stately 
 cathedrals and our service in French, that would bring 
 about a reform. 
 
 I know that often God has blessed a particular 
 sermon to the spiritual good of a tourist who for some 
 reason or other made light of preaching at home. It 
 seemed to be the ' bow shot at a venture.' Much 
 greater care, by private inquiry, is now being taken in 
 the appointment of temporary foreign chaplaincies. 
 Can too great care be taken ? If the services are 
 tedious, slovenly, careless, people find a ready excuse 
 for attending Roman Catholic churches. One advan- 
 tage of a foreign chaplaincy is that the chaplain, in 
 some cases, has free board and lodgings. It is to 
 the interest of the manager of the hotel to have the 
 English chaplain under his roof. In the majority of 
 cases a reduction is made, and every reasonable comfort 
 is supplied at the most moderate charge of four, eight, 
 to ten francs a day : 6s. 8d., or at most 8s. 4d., for 
 meals and logetnent. I was at one time on the S.P.G. 
 Committee for Foreign Chaplaincies. To his great 
 delight, a clergyman secured through us a chaplaincy 
 abroad. He was accompanied by his wife. It was 
 stipulated that he was to have board and lodging free, 
 his wife half-price. We received a letter from the
 
 144 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 maitre d'hotel, after one week's experience, in the 
 strain in which only a foreign maitre cThotel could 
 write, to the effect that he was quite prepared to abide 
 by his engagement so far as concerned le Reverend 
 Monsietcr, but that rapp^tit de madame dtait si dnorme 
 that he must charge her the full price. When this 
 clergyman, blessed with a wife of appitit dnorine, 
 applied again the question was seriously discussed : 
 ' Can I take my wife ?' ' Shall I ?' ' Dare I ?' 
 
 Of all the foreign chaplaincies I have taken, that of 
 Vichy is the most discreditable. There is a small 
 chapel, shared with the French Protestants. It 
 is situate close to the menagerie, and often when 
 we have been praying ' Lord, have mercy upon 
 us,' I have heard the roar of a ' lion seeking after 
 its prey.' Its surroundings are too disgusting to 
 describe. I took the chaplaincy for the month of July. 
 The heat was almost intolerable. The hour of service 
 was at twelve — no other could be arranged for — and at 
 4 p.m. Though several English were there, not more 
 than ten or twelve, at the utmost, came to morning 
 service and sometimes about three in the afternoon. 
 The place, noise, stench, forbade people coming. How 
 much better, under these circumstances, to have held a 
 service in one of the salons of an hotel. The churches 
 both at Grindelwald and Homburg are much more as 
 they should be. 
 
 My locum tenency of Strathfieldsaye was very 
 interesting because of its associations. The pew in 
 which the * Iron Duke ' sat is preserved in its 
 integrity, with a fireplace. The old Duke stirred the 
 fire vigorously if the sermon was to his mind too long. 
 The church was generally mistaken for the stables.
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 145 
 
 Dean Wellesley, who was at that time Rector, told me 
 that he had often endeavoured to persuade the Duke to 
 restore it. It was surmounted with a cupola, like the 
 Coliseum in Regent's Park. It was generally known, 
 so said Dr. Wellesley, that the Duke was deficient in 
 artistic taste, for all men have not the same gifts. 
 This was so well known that if a new cottage had to 
 be built, the architect who submitted the ugliest design 
 was the most likely to be accepted. One morning the 
 Duke met his nephew, and said : ' I have long thought 
 that our church needs restoration.' ' I am rejoiced, 
 your Grace, that I have brought you to my way of 
 thinking. What do you propose to do ?' * Well, I 
 have been thinking, how would it do to put a steeple 
 on the cupola ?' It is years since I have visited Strath- 
 fieldsaye or caught a pike in its waters. I wonder, is 
 the parish church restored ? 
 
 There are, as I have said, advantages and disadvan- 
 tages. At Woodlands, added to the friendships formed 
 there and still existing with the Aldridge family, there 
 was delicious air, a thronged church, and fishing to my 
 heart's content in the Kennet, placed at my disposal 
 by Lord Ailesbury and by the Squire of Wellford. 
 Bamford secured me one of my most faithful curates, 
 who came to me without salary, Vivian Lennard, 
 now Rector of Lower Hey ward, Banbury. 
 
 My least happy experience was at Llanidan, in 
 Anglesey. I think everyone purposing to take a 
 locum tenency should certainly, if possible, go and see 
 the place first. The Vicar of Llanidan was extremely 
 poor ; that was not his fault. The Vicarage was so 
 inadequately furnished that Mr. Hughes, M.P., my 
 sister's brother-in-law, sent down some cart-loads of 
 
 10
 
 146 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 furniture for us. Rats ran over our faces at night ; 
 rain poured in from roof and crevice. It was here that 
 no persuasion would induce the few people who under- 
 stood English to enter the church until the train from 
 Bangor was seen. It was here that the verger gave 
 me indications of the tunes we were to have, by- 
 sundry and divers jerks of his legs and arms in the 
 vestry. 
 
 Some vicarages are too elaborately furnished. You 
 would rather the Vicar put away things which he and 
 his wife value. In some furniture is bare. A locum 
 tenency is no real rest if you have to take, as I have 
 taken, three and four services on Sundays, are re- 
 sponsible for surplice duty throughout the week, and 
 when occasionally the church is a mile from the vicarage. 
 It is no saving of expense. Time was when it was 
 considered sufficient remuneration for acting as locuin 
 tenens by having use of vicarage, garden, and servants 
 on board wages. Sometimes a pony-trap, with limited 
 use, formed part of the bargain. Now (and naturally) 
 vicars and rectors ask you £2 2s. to even £\2 and 
 ^14 per week for the use of their vicarage, with some 
 reduction if you take the ' duty.' This is not to be 
 wondered at in these days of the depreciation of livings 
 and the poverty of the clergy. Why should not they, 
 debarred from soi^rces open to the laity, make an 
 honest penny ? Many of our laity are finding out 
 that they might go far and fare worse than rent a 
 rectory or vicarage. The rectory is prettily situated, 
 nicely furnished, with pleasant society in the neigh- 
 bourhood, fresh and smooth lawn, flower and kitchen 
 gardens, trout stream, freedom, no hurrying to and 
 fro on the Continent and living in stuffy hotels.
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 147 
 
 By the time, however, that you have paid your 
 three or four guineas a week, made presents to the 
 servants, and hired a trap, it is a mistake to think 
 a locum teiiency is not expensive. It is no rest to 
 your wife, who yearns for rest from housekeeping, and 
 somehow it is a drawback to have to do with servants 
 who are not your own. They ' cannot serve two 
 masters.' It is not — for they are, as a rule, most 
 attentive and obHging — ' that they hate the one and 
 love the other,' or, vice versa, ' hold to the one and 
 despise the other,' but it is : ' Oh, dear, I cannot well 
 find fault, for they, after all, are not our servants, and 
 when the cat is away the mice will play,' etc. 
 
 One of the most charmingly situated and, for the 
 summer, ideal parishes is that of Luccombe, of which 
 I took charge last summer. It is but lately that its 
 devoted Vicar, Mr. Acland, passed away. He wrote 
 to me shortly before I left it : ' I am longing to return 
 to my lovely home.' 
 
 To take charge of another man's parish and people 
 is a very sacred trust, and in view of all the different 
 ' uses ' one meets with, it is one's bounden duty not to 
 alter, but to conform to it. I have always endeavoured, 
 under God, to make it the occasion of a sort of 
 ' mission.' The memory of some locimi tenencies is 
 amongst my happiest, but I am bound, however, and 
 sorrowfully, to confess that I notice a great drifting 
 away from religion and its ordinances in country 
 parishes. A great change, not for the better, has 
 come over the youth of both sexes. The villagers of 
 earlier days, of smock-frock and poke-bonnet, the 
 courteous doffing of hat and the respectful bob-curtsey 
 on meeting the parish priest, are almost dying out. 
 
 10 — 2
 
 148 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 If, as some hold, the strength of the Church of 
 England lies, not in her town, but in her country- 
 parishes, we cannot but deplore the gradual decay of 
 spiritual life in the more remote villages of England. 
 
 If a clergyman seeking comparative rest does not 
 see his way to taking a locum tenency, he and his fall 
 back on lodgings in a farmhouse or by the seaside, and 
 hope occasionally to help the Vicar of the parish. 
 ' There are lodgings and lodgings.' Who has not had 
 experience of them, good, bad, indifferent ? Do we 
 not know those lodgings where the furniture is scant 
 and rickety, carpets worn out and dirty ; on the mantel- 
 piece are vases with artificial flowers ; cats and dogs 
 in porcelain ; antimacassars on every chair ; slippery 
 horse-hair sofa, rocking chair, * occasional ' tables with 
 small mats upon them ; on the walls the most awful 
 family portraits done in oils, fat people with vast 
 stomachs and huge bonnets ? How often you find 
 a framed print of the local M.P., with crossed legs 
 and 'yours truly' or 'yours faithfully,' glaring at 
 you ! Perhaps there is another family in the rooms 
 above or below, with every possibility of meals ordered 
 for one finding their way to the other. There is the 
 hard- worked, good-natured, ever-willing ' maid-of-all- 
 work,' who knows, however, where to ' draw the line.' 
 My wife and I noticed one morning, in the local 
 papers at Ilfracombe, that an excellent dish, a sort of 
 spinach, might be made of young nettles. / do not 
 recommend it. We agreed we would try it. When 
 the landlady came 'for orders,' we showed her the 
 recipe. About five minutes afterwards up came the 
 servant : ' Please, sir, missus has sent me to ask you 
 "who is to gather the nettles.^"' It appears that no
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 149 
 
 directions were given on this point in the recipe. 
 I suffer occasionally from severe internal pain, which 
 only hot water immediately relieves. I had with me 
 some cuttings to paste into my ' commonplace book.* 
 I rang the bell, and asked the servant to bring me 
 some hot water, and also to make me some paste. 
 She confused the two. She said to her mistress : 
 * The Dean wants some paste as hot as you can make 
 it : it does his inside good.' 
 
 How amusing are some anecdotes about servants. 
 A lady had the incandescent light fitted up in her 
 house in Clifton. Her maid said to her : ' I don't 
 know how it is, ma'am, that whenever I speak to the 
 workmen about these 'ere new lights they puts their 
 aprons to their mouths and bursts out laughing.' 
 'Well,' said her mistress, 'I really cannot understand 
 why they should laugh. What do you say to them ?' 
 ' I only said I could not see as these indecent lights 
 were better than the gas.' 
 
 It is not always that landladies take such an affec- 
 tionate interest in you as did one at Southport. In 
 reply to me as to her charges, after giving me all 
 details and all ' extras,' she ended her letter thus : 
 ' Hoping, Rev. Sir, that this finds yoti as well as can 
 be expected at this holy season, I remain, faithfully 
 yours.' The ' holy season ' was Christmas. I suppose 
 she thought I had partaken too freely of turkey, plum- 
 pudding, and mince-pies. I have sometimes asked 
 myself. What would she have hoped, say, in the season 
 of Lent ? 
 
 It is here and there that you come across such 
 varieties of use in churches and incidents scarcely 
 credible — e.g., the ways and doings of vergers and
 
 I50 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 clerks in showing you over churches. Here are some 
 notices posted on the boards outside churches. A 
 vicar left his church open for the use of cyclists, in the 
 hope that occasionally a cyclist might avail himself of 
 it for private prayer. Over the porch was inscribed : 
 'This is the gate of heaven.' Underneath this was 
 inscribed : ' Please notice that the gate is closed during 
 the winter months.' Here is a notice given out : ' The 
 preacher in this church on Sunday morning next will 
 be found posted on the board outside this church.' 
 There is another in connection with a meeting to be 
 held in the villao-e schoolroom : ' Please take notice 
 that no children in arms will be admitted unless there 
 is someone to take care of them.' 
 
 I was visiting a clergyman who was well known for 
 his thorough knowledge of bees, and he had several 
 hives. I asked him if there was any truth in what I 
 had been told, that the sting of a bee is an antidote to 
 gout. He assured me it was. ' In fact,' he said, 'one 
 of my churchwardens suffers from gout. Whenever he 
 feels the attack coming on he comes to me. I put him 
 to bed, make him lie quite flat on his stomach, strip 
 his back, and then I take one or more bees and (suiting 
 the action to the word) I sting him here and there till 
 his back is like a map with towns marked on it.' All 
 I could say was, I had had many churchwardens, but I 
 did not know one that would have submitted to this. 
 I think he would have preferred the malady to the 
 remedy, like old Lord Derby, who suffered from gout. 
 A wine merchant, hearing this, sent him some sherry. 
 Lord Derby replied : ' I have tasted your sherry, and 
 much prefer the gout,' 
 
 So if there are pulpits and pulpits, there are church-
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 151 
 
 wardens and churchwardens ; and lest any should 
 doubt the credibility of this, which I know to be true, 
 I append the following, which conclusively confirms it : 
 
 * Bee-sting Cures for Rheumatism. 
 
 ' The scientists of the American Government have 
 been investigating the alleged cures of rheumatism by 
 bee-stings in the State of Maryland, and they find that 
 the cures have actually taken place in a large number 
 of instances. The scientific explanation of it is simple 
 enough, says the Leader correspondent. When a 
 honey-bee stings it injects formic acid, and this, in its 
 pure state, is a cure for rheumatism. The stinging 
 process is, of course, extremely painful, and the 
 scientists are trying to find a way of extracting the 
 acid from the bees and using it in medicine. They 
 have merely found thus far that the acid loses its 
 power in transmission, and no good results have been 
 obtained except when the acid has been injected into 
 the rheumatic subject by the bees themselves.' 
 
 If there are pulpits and pulpits, how infinitely varied 
 preachers are in their style, manner, method, ways. 
 I question if any two are precisely alike, unless they 
 have adopted someone as their model. There are 
 those who very closely imitate a preacher of note. 
 They imitate, probably, more often unconsciously than 
 of set purpose. The latent tendency or even gift in some 
 of mimicry takes the form of imitation. The late 
 Bishop Woodford was in voice, utterance, manner, a 
 copy of Bishop Wilberforce. Possibly one result of 
 theological colleges is that young men are encouraged 
 to set before themselves an ideal at the cost of being
 
 152 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 themselves. How can they ever be any other ? Who 
 of us has not from time to time heard men who have 
 affected the manner, diction, even voice of a noted 
 preacher? If this does not lay him open to unreality, 
 it is at the loss of individuality. But imitators are, 
 comparatively speaking, few and far between. We 
 have, thank God ! got rid of clerical ' fops.' I see now 
 as I write a fop whom, when a boy, my soul loathed. 
 ' Save me,' says one, ' from the man with the lavender 
 gloves and the white, embroidered pocket-handkerchief.' 
 
 Well do I remember one who wore these gloves, and 
 had the pocket-handkerchief ready at hand. He was 
 always weeping, and weeping became contagious. You 
 heard sniffling and nose-blowing all over the church, and 
 really for no reason. The preacher wept, and the people 
 wept. There are times when it may be difficult to stifle 
 strong emotion. There are some who, however ex- 
 perienced they may be — and who would wish it other- 
 wise ? — are overcome with nervousness when about to 
 preach on some great occasion, or even to another con- 
 gregation than their own. There are also not a few who 
 after preaching shed tears unseen, tears which God puts 
 into a bottle, tears which flow from feeling, restrained 
 in the pulpit, not hysterical, but from deep emotion. 
 
 It was my privilege some years ago to give one 
 of the addresses at a gathering of East-End London 
 clergy. The late Arcihbishop Temple, at that time 
 Bishop of London, gave the concluding address to 
 clergy and workers. Some 2,000 were gathered 
 together in the evening. He took for his text : 
 'Looking unto Jesus ^ the AtUhor and Finisher of our 
 faith^ The sermon was the perfection of simplicity. 
 One forgot the rasping voice and somewhat rugged
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 153 
 
 way. I saw the tears coursing down his face from 
 pure emotion, yet no one could charge Archbishop 
 Temple with unreality or weakness. It was the out- 
 come of genuine emotion. I need not say how all 
 present felt the force of his appeal. 
 
 I very much doubt that in our day the laity would 
 tolerate the clerical ' fop ' such as I could tell of but for 
 the saying, De niorhds nil nisi bonum. But in our 
 day some are hampered by their manuscript ; others 
 try vainly to combine manuscript and extempore 
 preaching. Some never seem at ease ; some use too 
 much action ; others are as stiff as wooden dolls in the 
 Lowther Arcade. Of one preacher in our day, mar- 
 vellously eloquent, it was said by a cynical hearer : 
 'At last I have solved the question of perpetual 
 motion.' Others use a moderate amount of action, 
 
 and that not always graceful. Some affect a whine ^^ ^ 
 
 all throughout the sermon. They call it ' the voice of p^ y*..^ 
 the Church.' The prayers, lessons, sermon, are practi- ^^M/j'i 
 cally all monotoned on one and the same note — i.e., ' the 
 voice of the Church.' They speak in the pulpit as they " ^ 
 
 would not speak outside it. Surely of all things to be 
 deprecated in the ministry of the Word is affectation, 
 unreality, want of being natural. Why should we not 
 be perfectly natural in reading a lesson or in delivering 
 God's message to His children t Why should we 
 adopt in our church a voice that is not natural to us 
 outside church walls ? Why should we give an im- 
 pression of unreality in one place and not in another ? 
 There is an eloquence which has been defined as ' the 
 power of making yourself believed.' There is, on the 
 other hand, a lack of earnestness, even in the most^^^ 
 eloquent sermon, which fails to impress. The great
 
 154 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 actor, Garrick, was asked by a clergyman why the 
 stage seemed to have more power than the pulpit. 
 This was his answer : ' Too many preach truth as if it 
 were fiction ; we act fiction as if it were truth.' 
 
 If the clerical ' fop ' be a distinct species, and nexiste 
 pas, may we not hope that in our practical and common- 
 sense age all affectation, mannerism, unreality, lack of 
 simplicity and 'naturalness,' may also disappear 'as 
 the morning cloud ? ' Again, from how much a 
 preacher would be saved if he had a sense of 
 humour i What words are uttered from lack of it! 
 I would most earnestly deprecate and discourage 
 all jokes about preaching — anything that can turn 
 God's great ordinance for the conversion and build- 
 ing up of His redeemed children into contempt or 
 ridicule. My spirit was stirred within me at the 
 Leeds Congress when speaker after speaker kept the 
 audience in constant merriment by anecdotes told 
 of preachers. It seemed to me that if the clergy 
 made preaching a matter of public jest they could not 
 expect the laity to do otherwise. To lower it in their 
 eyes was unworthy of our vocation. I rose and pro- 
 tested against it. Again, I was stirred to protest at 
 another Congress when a Bishop, no longer with us, 
 went so far as to mwiic, on the platform, the ways and 
 manners of some of , the clergy in his diocese. This 
 seemed to me not only in the worst possible taste, but 
 most unfair towards clergy that they should be turned 
 publicly into (ridicule by their Diocesan. Are not 
 clergy sufficiently and humbly alive to their defects and 
 shortcomings without having them made the occasion 
 of mimicry on the part of their ' Father in God ' 1 
 
 Again, there may be occasions — and these must be
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 155 
 
 rare — when a preacher may resort to something startling 
 to arrest ^attentiotir—^.^., when he sees one inattentive, 
 disposed to slumber, and timing him with his watch. 
 It is not everyone who could do what a famous French 
 preacher did when he saw the King sunk in profound 
 slumber. The Chamberlain followed suit, and, in 
 addition to sleeping, snored. The preacher said : ' My 
 Lord Chamberlain, if you snore so loud, you will cer- 
 tainly wake His Majesty^ Bishop Wilberforce told me 
 that if he ever saw anyone inattentive, timing his 
 watch, etc., he laid himself out to say something 
 startling, and thereby secure the attention of the in- 
 attentive. It is not possible for a preacher, especially 
 if he have a sense of the ludicrous, to have perfect 
 control and command over his ' risible faculties,' as in 
 the case where some necessary work was being done 
 to a church roof. The window near the pulpit was 
 close to a ladder, up which a workman was ascending 
 with a pail of lime or whitewash on his head. The 
 bottom of the pail came out. The whitewash poured 
 all over the workman's head and shoulders — very 
 different from the ointment which ran down Aaron's 
 beard, even to the skirts of his clothing ! I think it 
 would be very difficult to repress a smile under these 
 most trying circumstances. I am thinking, not of men 
 who lay themselves out for saying w^hat is startling 
 and even ridiculous, but who, for lack of thought, and 
 sense of humour, say what cannot but excite laughter, 
 and make people wonder what he will say next. This 
 is not to make jest and joke purposely of preaching for 
 the sake of raising a laugh. That is one thing, and to 
 be discouraged. It is rather to quote what has been 
 said by preachers who had no thought of jesting.
 
 156 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 I mean such as these. A preacher preaching to a 
 somewhat drowsy set of farmers in a village church 
 took for his subject the parable of the Prodigal Son. 
 Seeking to impress upon the people the long-suffering 
 and love of the prodigal's father, he said : ' Think, 
 dear people, how the heart of the father yearned over 
 that erring child ! He kept that calf three years in hope 
 of his rettirn' Every farmer disposed to sleep — woke 
 up at the idea of a calf being kept as a 'calf,' 'young and 
 tender,' for three years. Have any of my readers heard 
 of the clergyman who preached on the parable of the 
 Sheep and the Goats ? After giving the meaning of 
 the parable and pointing out how it was a forecasting 
 of the judgment day, he leaned over the pulpit and 
 said : ' And now, before I close, I will ask each one of 
 you, most earnestly and searchingly, to put to yourself 
 this solemn question : ' A^n I a sheep, or am I a goat ?' 
 Now, under ordinary circumstances, is it not beyond 
 the power of imagination to think of yourself as either 
 a sheep or a goat ? There is little or no human 
 resemblance to the one or the other. Perhaps to be a 
 goat were the more difficult to imagine. But suddenly 
 and seriously to be called upon in church there and 
 then to decide and determine which you were could 
 not but create smiles and titter. Another clergyman 
 could not help seeing a woman tugging at a cabbage 
 in a kitchen garden close to the church. At last she 
 pulled it out and fell on her back. ' I knew that would 
 happen,' he involuntarily exclaimed. Whether or not 
 the Scotch preacher, with the dry sense of humour of 
 the Scotch, meant it as humour the reader must judge. 
 It came to his knowledge that much bad language 
 was used at golf. A boy, asked by a magistrate, ' Do
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 157 
 
 you know, my lad, what an oath is ?' answered, ' I have 
 not followed your Worship at golf without knowing.' 
 The preacher said : ' I have heared, my brethren, 
 and to my great concern, that much bad language is 
 spoken at golf. I think it my plain duty to protest 
 against it. Let me noo tell you what happened to me 
 last night. I had a veesion. I dreamt I saw St. Peter 
 on the Links. He had in his hand a golden cliib, St. 
 Peter missed his hole ! It was most provoking. You 
 know what you would have said. What do you think 
 St. Peter said, and only said under these most trying 
 circumstances ? He only said : " Deary me, deary 
 me I 
 
 One more illustration I might give out of many as 
 showing how careful preachers should be, even where 
 their intention is good, and especially in speaking to 
 children. The wife of one of the Leeds clergy told me 
 that she never in after years heard of the ten plagues in 
 Egypt without being reminded of it. She was at a girls' 
 school in Kensington, and they all attended a children's 
 service at a district church. The curate preached on 
 the Plague of Frogs : ' Think, dear children, what an 
 awful plague that must have been, of frogs, frogs ! 
 Wherever Pharaoh sat down he sat on frogs, frogs ! 
 Wherever he trod, he trod on frogs, frogs ! Going up- 
 stairs, he trod on frogs ! If he carved a leg of mutton 
 he carved through frogs, frogs ! If he had a cup of tea, 
 splash went a frog into the cup of tea ! It must have 
 been a terrible, awful plague !' Now, if the friezes and 
 frescoes of Egyptian life as seen in the British 
 . Museum be faithful it is difficult to imagine Pharaoh 
 going upstairs, carving a leg of mutton, and having a 
 cup of what ' cheers and does not inebriate.' No man
 
 158 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 with any sense of humour could say what was not only 
 not true to fact, but so outr^ and ridiculous as to leave 
 the lifelong impression which it did. 
 
 From all this I turn to the more serious light in 
 which to regard preaching, to the great opportunities 
 
 and responsibilities of the pulpit.^ -I. set before me in 
 
 imagination what an ordinary congregatiob represents 
 of 'all sorts and conditions' of men arid women, of 
 young men and maidens, of boys and girls, when 
 church doors are opened, and they, as it were, say : 
 ' Now, we are all here present before God to hear all 
 things that are commanded thee of God.' What does 
 not an ordinary congregation represent, underlying 
 all and various external differences ! Each and all 
 have a soul to be saved, and need to be told and to 
 understand God's way of saving. Some are yet in 
 darkness ; the eyes of the understanding have not been 
 enlightened. Their belief is traditional, a matter of 
 preference or opinion ; it is not of deep conviction. 
 They hear much about Christ, but Christ is not ' to 
 them the hope of glory.' There is the acquiescence 
 in the historic fact of the birth, life, and passion of 
 the historic Christ. There 'is nothing more. Such 
 acquiescence saves them from being branded or 
 labelled as Atheists or Socinians, but is not a saving, 
 it is not an influential, faith. They are not ' witnesses ' 
 or ' living epistles,' known and read of all men. Some 
 have their grave doubts. They are honest, not dis- 
 honest doubts. They are seeking ' if haply they may 
 find.' It were a grave mistake to brand such as these 
 as ' infidels.' Some are almost committed to a life of 
 frivolity in the social world ; hundreds have not the 
 courage of their best convictions to make a practical
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 159 
 
 decision for God. How many are spiritual invalids, 
 suffering from morbid self-introspection ! How many- 
 are ' sore let and hindered in running the race that is 
 set before them,' partly through the force of circum- 
 stances, of temptation, of want of kindly advice ! How 
 many are weak in faith and need encouragement ! 
 How many are in the thraldom of a besetting sin 
 which has long made havoc of their spiritual life ! 
 How many are fretted with corrosive anxieties ; borne 
 down by care ; saddened by some domestic trial ; 
 grievously tormented by one of many devils! How 
 many are sin-sick, passing through a crisis in their 
 spiritual life ! How many are mourning because of 
 bereavement, haunted with the fear of death, and ' all 
 their lifetime subject to its bondage ' ! Think of all 
 that is ever at strife with the better aspirations of the 
 young, the luring beckonings of the * world, the flesh, 
 and the devil,' and the voiceless appeal to their better 
 convictions ! Who shall say of what little children — the 
 ' little ones ' we are not to despise — are capable and 
 susceptible in the tender, impressionable time of child- 
 hood life? Some of these 'little ones,' taught but 
 little at home, loving, as so many of them do, to come 
 to church, interested in services, quick to hear and not 
 slow to receive — what do all these want ? They want 
 teaching, helping, enlightening by the Holy Ghost; they 
 want encouraging, comfort, strength. They want to 
 hear what they may turn into prayer ; they want, under 
 God, something said to them that they can take home 
 to ' their hearts ' and take up into their lives — not 
 something to make jest of or turn into scorn or ridi- 
 cule, to quote to raise a laugh at the expense of the 
 preacher, but sayings 'pondered over in the heart.' Is
 
 i6o ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 all this and much more present in the mind of a 
 preacher as he faces his listeners^ with^-manuscript -tar 
 note ? Is the thought present, ' I have a message 
 from God unto thee ' ? Before he speaks, has he 
 prayed that he himself might be taught if he would 
 \ teach others ? ' Recall, readers, sermons you have 
 listened to. 
 
 Far be it from me to say that a scholarly written 
 sermon, felicitous in its choice of language, thoughtful 
 and having in view ' ears polite,' has not its place and 
 use. A lady once said to me of a certain preacher : 
 * I go to hear him for a lesson in English.' It was 
 much the same as I used to hear of English girls in 
 Paris ; they went to hear Bersier ' for a lesson in 
 French.' But do we go to the church for lessons in 
 English or French ? My test of literary sermons, 
 more essays than sermons, is, after the ascription, 
 ' Can I turn the sermon into a prayer, and say it has 
 really helped me heavenward ?' I was conversing 
 with a man of considerable culture when I was con- 
 ducting a mission at Hastings. Speaking of a particular 
 preacher, he said : ' I delight in hearing him ; he has 
 such command of language.' To sit and listen to his 
 flow of oratory is a treat, and, best of all, he does not 
 make me think.' The literary essay or the extempore 
 flow of words is not fulfilling the function of the pulpit 
 if it does not lead the hearer both to think and pray. 
 
 I heard a young curate once tell us that * if we were 
 all baptized and received Holy Communion we were 
 all saved.' I said to him : 'If the laity took you at 
 your word your church would be thronged next 
 Sunday with communicants.' I heard a sermon from 
 the Prebendary of a cathedral, the whole of which was
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS i6i 
 
 a kind of Obituary. He told us of all the Bishops, 
 Deans, Canons, and Prebendaries he had known. 
 There was not one word about Christ, and we had to 
 stand up and ascribe glory to God for what we had 
 heard ! I heard a sermon delivered in a crowded 
 church in which the preacher devoted all his time to a 
 discussion on St. Bartholomew, advising and exhorting 
 us to follow his example. At the close of his sermon 
 he said : ' It is right to tell you that we do not know 
 much about him' 
 
 Again, does that sort of sermon, which is vox, et 
 pr^terea nihil, really do sin-sick and needy souls, 
 hungering for the Word of life, much, if any, real good } 
 Have we not heard sermons stilted and pompous in 
 delivery, clothed in fine raiment of ponderous sen- 
 tences ; of sententious ^phrases:;:; elaborate wording, 
 which lead people to say, ' What was it all really 
 about ? I really cannot recall anything worth re- 
 membering, helpful, zuinning.^ Are sermons all that 
 can be desired which are jnore about the Church 
 and Church teaching than about Christ and His 
 great salvation, or those which have to do more with 
 political and social questions than with our sins and 
 the need of a Saviour ? 
 
 There must be something amiss when we compare 
 the best results of modern preaching with those of 
 earlier days, when the subject was ' Jesus and the 
 Resurrection,' when the consciences of thousands were 
 pricked by one sermon. Nowadays it brings tears of 
 thankfulness to our eyes if we ar.3 allowed to hear that 
 even one has been ' brought out of darkness into the 
 marvellous light, and from the power'^of Satan unto 
 God.' There can be no doubt that the decay of 
 
 1 1
 
 i62 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 religion, the attitude of too many nowadays towards 
 religion, is due to the disparagement of the pulpit, to 
 the cry for short sermons, to the fact that the message 
 of the pulpit is not that to which the laity are always 
 ready to listen, * Christ, and Him crucified.'' 
 
 Personally, I have the greatest faith in the ordinance 
 of preaching where Christ is preached and the Holy 
 Ghost is honoured ; when study, reading, wide and 
 varied, much secret prayer is bestowed in the prepara- 
 tion of the sermon ; where are something more than 
 'moral essays flavoured with Christianity,' or moral 
 duties illustrated by Christ's example ; particular traits 
 of the Christian character dwelt upon, of which our 
 Lord was pattern ; elaborate essays which fail to 
 ' divide asunder the joint and marrow ' and to reach 
 the depths of man's innermost being. I do not 
 despair of this great ordinance. I do not anticipate 
 the jj^ressj. superseding the necessity of the sermon, 
 so long as it is not lowered in the eyes and 
 estimation of the laity by poverty of thought, lack of 
 earnestness, and unfaithfulness to its functions. I do 
 not despair of it or believe the day will ever come 
 when people shall practically say, ' If we have been to 
 early Celebration it is all we want.' Its power, its 
 efficacy, will more than hold its own if we teach our 
 people that we work from and not for life ; that a 
 saving faith differs from a historic belief; that salva- 
 tion in Christ is provided, so that we have to accept 
 rather than labour for it ; that all practical religion and 
 all that influences for good have their roots in a lively 
 faith and blossom in the consecrated life. They who 
 are content to preach this will have ' souls to their hire 
 and seals to their ministry.' They who turn many to
 
 PREACHING AND PREACHERS 163 
 
 righteousness shall shine as the stars for ever and ever. 
 He that converteth a sinner from the error of his ways 
 shall save a soul from death and shall hide a multitude 
 of sins. And in closing this chapter I add Cowper's 
 lines : 
 
 ' The pulpit therefore (and I name it, filled 
 With solemn awe, that bids me well beware 
 With what intent I touch that holy thing ; 
 I say the pulpit in sober awe 
 Of its legitimate, peculiar powers) 
 Must stand acknowledged while the world shall stand. 
 
 ' The most important and effective guard, 
 Support, and ornament of Virtue's cause, 
 There stands the messenger of Truth ; there stands 
 The legate of the skies. His theme divine, 
 His office sacred, his credentials clear. 
 By him the violated law speaks out 
 Its thunder ; and by him in strains as sweet 
 As angels use the Gospel whispers peace.' 
 
 Of the preacher : 
 
 • Unskilled he be to fawn or seek for power 
 By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour. 
 Far other aims his heart had learned to prize. 
 More bent to raise the wretched than to rise, 
 At church with meek and unaffected grace, 
 His looks adorned the venerable place. 
 Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway. 
 And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.' 
 
 Goldsmith : Country Parson. 
 
 1 1
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 PAROCHIAL- ' MISSIONS ' AND MISSIONERS 
 
 I PASS on from considering the subject of preaching in 
 general to preaching in particular, from its more 
 familiar aspect on ' Sundays and other days ' to the 
 special occasions of this ordinance. By this I do not 
 mean pleading for different charities or the advocacy 
 of special societies, which for the most part take place 
 on our Sunday ministrations, and for which special 
 preachers are invited. These are good opportunities 
 for the preacher to acquire valuable information re- 
 specting the manifold objects of Christian endeavour, 
 and for the people to give of their substance towards 
 their support. 
 
 Such occasions are, to my mind, of great value to 
 the preacher, always provided he does not content 
 himself with ' tacking on ' a few words at the end of 
 his sermon — e.g., ' Before I close this discourse, suffer 
 me to remind you,' e,tc. ; or with a few preparatory 
 words : ' Before I proceed to give out my text, let 
 me call your attention very briefly to the great need 
 of this excellent society,' etc., and then follows a 
 sermon which has next to nothing to do with that 
 'excellent cause.' ' Charity sermons ' are like danger 
 signals to many, warning them off from church, 
 occasioning the excuse for non-attendance. A ' charity 
 
 [ 164 J
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 165 
 
 sermon ' may be made interesting if the preacher takes 
 pains first to inform himself of the charity itself, and 
 uses the opportunity for letting people know in what 
 direction it is working, what it is effecting, etc. 
 
 There is scarcely a charity I have not been invited 
 to advocate. I have endeavoured to get all the infor- 
 mation possible, not only from reports, but by personal 
 visit and inquiry. This has brought me information I 
 could not otherwise have gathered. To this end I 
 have visited hospitals, reformatories, asylums for the 
 blind and mutes, Earlswood Asylum for idiots, 
 cripples' homes, penitentiaries, prisons, slums in our 
 cities, thieves' kitchens, and have invariably found 
 interested hearers, as the result of knowledge thus 
 personally acquired. 
 
 It is, I think, to a certain extent the fault of the 
 clergy if ' charity sermons ' do not interest our people. 
 We shall never interest them nor ' provoke unto good 
 works ' if we content ourselves with a very slight refer- 
 ence to the cause we are expected specially to plead. 
 Our people want to know, as they ought to know, what 
 is being done for Christ. I also feel very strongly that 
 a charity sermon should not be made unnecessarily 
 the occasion of a holiday for the Vicar. There are 
 certain objects with which the parish priest should 
 closely and heartily identify himself by his presence, 
 by pleading for it himself, and not always by the 
 'deputation.' I do not say that the 'deputation' may 
 not and does not bring with him special knowledge, 
 but somehow, and yet not wrongly, the running away 
 on the Sunday of the Vicar conveys an undesirable 
 and unfavourable impression. If a hard-worked vicar, 
 sometimes single-handed, needs, as hundreds do, an
 
 i66 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 occasional rest, would it not be better to seek it for 
 some other Sunday in the year than when a charity is 
 to be pleaded ? 
 
 No one has enjoyed more than myself, or, I hope, 
 more fully appreciated, the opportunities which invita- 
 tions to preach on special occasions have brought me : 
 the hearty welcome, the hospitality of the vicarage, the 
 kindly intercourse of its inmates, not forgetting little 
 children ;* making the acquaintance of brother clergy 
 and leading laity ; interchanges of experience ; mutual 
 counsel ; bright and pleasant gatherings, and last, 
 but not least, the congregations, earnest, attentive, 
 devout. Yet I sometimes say to myself, • Is not this 
 a great opportunity ' — on, e.g., a harvest or choir festival 
 — ' for the Vicar himself, when many come who are not 
 seen at other times ?' For there are certain occasions 
 when people will come to church and crowd it out, 
 wholly independent of the preacher. It is a lost 
 opportunity to the parish priest himself. A depu- 
 tation can hardly be expected to be en rapport with a 
 congregation to whom he does not habitually minister. 
 If he signs his name in ,the vestry in the list of 
 ' strange preachers,' might he not add under the 
 column of 'remarks,' * To a strange congregation'? 
 You are also rather at the mercy, for the time being 
 of the ' deputation,' who may turn out in very truth a 
 ' strange preacher.' 
 
 On one occasion, on my inviting such to plead for 
 a particular mission, I wrote and asked him not to 
 enlarge on the claims of the 'heathen,' but to give my 
 people some facts and details connected with the work. 
 
 * 'A dear little trot' had the audacity (!) to address a letter to 
 me, 'Dear Dean Teaze, The Deanery, Bristol.'
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 167 
 
 He made up his mind to act on my request to such 
 an extent that I have considered it more prudent to 
 abstain from making such a request again. He de- 
 scribed in some detail how a native chief was struck 
 with his dress, and besought him to bestow upon him 
 certain portions of it, even to unmentionable garments. 
 I was filled with fear lest nothing should be left to 
 give away. I venture to think also that deputations 
 themselves must sometimes long to be less tied to 
 subject, and more free to preach and speak on other 
 themes. 
 
 I am not quite sure that offertories are much 
 affected by special pleading of ' strange preachers.' 
 People, as a rule, make up their minds beforehand 
 what they intend to give. The remarkable average 
 of offertories proves this. Occasionally, but only 
 occasionally, you hear of people, under the impulse of 
 excited feeling, putting bracelets, rings, brooches, etc., 
 into the bag or plate. Let us hope they are not of 
 those of whom quaint Fuller writes : ' They are like 
 sailors who in moments of fear throw the cargo over- 
 board, and wish for it back in a calm.' Nor do we 
 often hear of what I have been given to understand — 
 I may have been misinformed — happened in St. 
 Peter's, Eaton Square, reminding one of Sydney 
 Smith's cynical remark that ' the most eloquent charity 
 sermon he ever heard of was one where a man put 
 his hand in his neighbour's pocket and contributed 
 handsomely.' The story I have heard is this : that a 
 pickpocket picked a lady's pocket of her watch during 
 Divine service. He was so profoundly affected by 
 Wilkinson's sermon that when the bag or plate came 
 round he so far repented of his evil-doing that he
 
 i68 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 slipped the watch into it. No doubt his conscience 
 was relieved. The question arose who could claim 
 the watch. Not the thief, for he would not be likely 
 to confess his theft ; not the victim, for it was not 
 of the nature of 'cheerful giving.' This incident, 
 which I believe is not apocryphal, is an interesting 
 question for a casuist. 
 
 Tempting as this subject of offertories is, I must 
 not go off the rails. It is marvellous how small they 
 are 'per head.' It is almost past belief how many 
 give nothing at all, even after earnest appeals. Is it 
 not a scandal, and nothing less, that you should find a 
 ' button ' or a lozenge in what is about to be solemnly 
 offered to God at the altar? It is an unworthy act to 
 put in plate or bag some foreign coin for which we 
 have no further use. It argues but a poor conceptionjT"^ 
 of worship to limit it to prayer, praise, sermon, andC?*^*^ 
 not to bear in mind that to give is part of ' worship.j||^t/m 
 It is a grave fault in the Church of England that 
 children are not taught from their childhood to give. 
 It is a fact as notorious as it is not to our credit that 
 Nonconformists and members of the ' Free Churches ' 
 give far more liberally and generously than members 
 of the Church of England do. 
 
 I recall two out of many comments made by children, 
 which must have conveyed a silent rebuke from the 
 ' lips of children.' I can vouch for their truth. 
 
 A child once saw her mother put a halfpenny into 
 the plate, x^fter service she said to her child : ' I do 
 not think it right, dear, to criticise sermons, but I 
 must say I did not think that the sermon we heard 
 to-night was worth much.' To which the child re- 
 plied : ' Well, mother, but what can you expect for a
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 169 
 
 halfpe7i7ty ?' On another occasion the preacher, advo- 
 cating some special mission to the heathen, represented 
 them as inhabitants of 'torrid regions,' dispensing with 
 clothing, and living in a state of nudity. The child 
 observed its father putting a button into the plate. 
 'Father,' said the enfafit terrible, 'did I not under- 
 stand the preacher this evening to say that those 
 savages went about naked ?' ' Yes, my dear boy ; I 
 am pleased to find you were so attentive.' ' But why, 
 father, did you put a button into the plate ?' 
 
 What shall we say to these things ? 
 
 There are many and different uses to which the 
 pulpit is put, and, as all congregations know from 
 experience, there are many and ever-increasing occa- 
 sions for, if I may call it, speciality — e.g., special 
 services for men, women, children, each of these 
 being found of use and benefit. But within the last 
 thirty years we have had ten and twelve days' 
 missions, held in particular parishes, partly of the 
 nature of a ' revival,' and yet, where soberly con- 
 ducted and on Church lines, are unaccompanied, as 
 a rule, by that excitement ordinarily associated with 
 revivalism. They have undoubtedly been productive 
 of permanent and very blessed results. On this 
 subject I may write the more fully and confidently 
 in that it has pleased God to call me to conduct 
 missions for now twenty-five years. Few have 
 conducted more. A great wave of spiritual life, 
 awakening, stimulating, energizing, edifying, has spread 
 itself over the Church, and I shall not, I hope, be 
 misunderstood when I say that the parochial clergy 
 are greatly indebted, in the majority of cases, to those 
 who freely and voluntarily have come amongst them
 
 I70 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 and borne the great strain of a ' ten days' mission.' 
 For my part, I yield to none in the earnest conviction 
 that few, if any, agencies in modern times have done 
 more, under God, to vitalize particular parishes, to 
 make religion more impressively real, to strengthen 
 the hands of our hard-working clergy in town or 
 village, to excite them to yet greater devotion, to 
 bring them more ' in touch ' with their people, to win 
 individual souls to Christ, to reclaim the erring, to 
 build up the children of God in their most holy faith, 
 than a mission, well prepared for, soberly conducted, 
 diligently followed up. 
 
 It is not, of course, my purpose to do here what I 
 have several times been invited to do at Congresses — 
 viz., to suggest what should be done by way of pre- 
 paration, what in the conduct of a mission itself, nor 
 in what way the undoubted and best results of this 
 special work should be made permanent and moulded 
 into definite forms of practical usefulness. All this 
 lies outside the object and intention of this chapter. 
 All I would add is that a mission has opened the 
 eyes of the clergy, or, where already opened, has 
 encouraged them to hold from time to time services 
 similar to those which they could not fail to notice 
 were acceptable to their people, and such as need not 
 be dropped or discontinued when the mission has, in 
 one sense, come to a close. I mean, e.g., a short 
 address at Holy Communion, made, as it should be, a 
 separate office. How many recall with gratitude the 
 quiet hour, the sweet hymns, the brief address, the 
 deep devotion of communicants ! How many valued 
 the mid-day ' instruction ' or ' Bible-reading,' followed 
 by a short intercessory service ! How many recall the
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 171 
 
 rapt stillness of an 'after-meeting,' when impressions, 
 convictions, and resolutions had the seal set to them 
 by the Holy Spirit ! 
 
 The idea or work of missions is, with too many, 
 almost exclusively limited to and associated with 
 missions to the 'heathen,' with the evangelizing effort 
 of the Church Missionary Society, or with the super- 
 vision, by the Society for the Propagation of the 
 Gospel, of our missionaries and Colonial empire. 
 From their childhood it has never occurred to many to 
 apply the word ' missions ' to any effort within our own 
 shores, or to any sphere of operation but that of so- 
 called and generall}^ understood 'heathenism.' Annual 
 sermons and meetings, ' deputations from parent 
 societies,' special preachers, working parties, missionary- 
 boxes, etc., have all been utilized to impress upon us 
 a sense of our own privileges and responsibilities, and 
 of the claims which the untutored savage or benighted 
 heathen have on our sympathy, prayer, and alms. So 
 it has come to pass that the idea of a * mission ' to any 
 but the heathen is looked upon as a misnomer and inap- 
 plicable. For many, also, there is a certain fascination 
 about foreign missions which home missions have not. 
 To win the soul of one ' sitting in darkness and in the 
 shadow of death ' in ' darkest Africa ' or elsewhere 
 commends itself more to the mind and sympathy than 
 the conversion of a bargee or a begrimed artisan. To 
 enlighten a Hindoo or Brahmin and bring him to a 
 saving knowledge of Christ seems to some of more 
 importance and worth more effort than to bring one of 
 culture and intellect in an ordinary congregation to the 
 same saving knowledge. It would seem as if the 
 rejoicing of angels over the sinner that repenteth was
 
 172 
 
 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 recorded rather as an encouragement to those labour- 
 ing in far-distant lands than for one who seeks the 
 conversion or restoration to God of a great sinner or 
 backslider at home. All honour to the * noble army 
 of martyrs,' ancient and modern, who, at the plain call 
 of the Master, have left our shores to ' witness ' for 
 Him amidst all the difficulties and perils of heathenism 
 ' The blood of martyrs ' is now, as in Tertullian's time, 
 ' the seed of the Church.' To evangelize the heathen ; 
 to leave no portion of 'His inheritance' unvisited and 
 untrodden by the feet of those who preach the * glad 
 tidings of the Gospel of peace '; to supervise and 
 provide means of grace for our emigrants and colonists, 
 far removed from opportunities of worship, and very 
 liable to lapse into practical heathenism, is a confessed 
 obligation and duty. To girdle the world with the 
 episcopacy, and to regard every new and fully-consti- 
 tuted diocese as yet one more gem in the crown of 
 England's widespread sovereignty, is a ' holy desire' and 
 laudable ambition, by which Christ's kingdom may be 
 increased and His coming hastened. But, meanwhile, 
 religious people and the laity at large strangely over- 
 look or ignore our heathen at home. To speak, indeed, 
 of ' heathen at home ' seems a reflection cast on our 
 common Christianity. Are there heathen in Christian 
 England '^. Can such^ an epithet or designation, so 
 long applied to the dark places of the earth, be true of 
 a land of light and culture such as our own ? 
 
 Slowly, reluctandy, but surely, is the fact of 
 heathenism at home being forced on the attention of 
 all who grieve over the spiritual condition of the people 
 in towns and villages in England alone, and who are 
 beginning to bethink themselves whether or not efforts
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 173 
 
 to evangelize savage or superstitious races have not 
 been at the cost of that ' charity which begins at home.' 
 In our interest in ' darkest Africa' we have somehow 
 ignored the heathen at our very doors. The condition 
 of the vast population in our great cities untouched, 
 unleavened, uninfluenced by religion, is not only con- 
 fessed and deplorable, but is a blot on our Christianity 
 and a most serious obstacle to the greater and more 
 commanding success of foreign missions. We are 
 often told that our differences of doctrine and worship, 
 our internecine wranglings and want of unity, make 
 the acceptance of Christianity difficult to a thoughtful 
 and devout heathen. These differences are often 
 exaggerated. To my mind, consistently with the 
 universal law of Nature that endless variety is perfectly 
 consistent with unity, I doubt that this apparent want 
 of agreement amongst ourselves is as serious or difficult 
 as is commonly represented. At any rate, we cannot 
 call it a scandal. But the unleavened mass of humanity 
 in a Christian land is a scandal, and to the mind of a 
 thoughtful heathen — and there are many such — it 
 cannot but be a grave difficulty when we ask him to 
 renounce his own religion and accept Christianity. 
 Over and over again during my ministry in Paris it 
 has been remarked to me by Roman Catholics, criticis- 
 ing the low morals and looseness of life of Anglicans 
 abroad : ' If your reformed faith is so much better than 
 ours, which you are continually denouncing, why is not 
 your practice better ?' The challenge is perfectly fair 
 and reasonable. Max Miiller, in the preface to his 
 'Chips from a German Workshop,' tells of a Brahmin, 
 convinced of the truth of Christianity simply by read- 
 ing the Bible, who was fired with a desire to see the
 
 174 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 country which made the Bible ' free and open.' He 
 landed at Liverpool, and when he saw the drunkenness 
 and harlotry in its streets he took ship and sped fast 
 back to his own country. It was only his faith in the 
 unadulterated Word of God that saved him from going 
 back to his earlier faith. The present Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, when appointed to the See of Rochester, 
 publicly expressed what he felt at the appalling fact 
 that 2,000,000 of his diocese seemed utterly untouched 
 by Christian influence and teaching ! Personally, I do 
 not believe that this deplorable state of things in our 
 very midst is due to any native aversion to religion, 
 much less to the atheism of serious thought or of 
 unexamined avowal of unbelief. It is far more due to 
 the force of circumstances. 
 
 When we recall the surroundings of certain districts, 
 the conditions so unfavourable to spirituality, the grind- 
 ing poverty, corroding care, unsanitary homes, in which, 
 of necessity, the decencies of life cannot be secured, 
 and that ' dead level of poverty ' above which few, if 
 any, attempt to rise, we realize that it is the environ- 
 ment of the life far more than any virulent hostility 
 to religion which accounts for and explains ' spiritual 
 destitution.' You cannot expect careworn, poorly-clad, 
 half-starved, poverty-oppressed ones to come in any 
 number to our churches. They are not at home there. 
 The utmost you can do is to bring to them the Church 
 and her ministrations, all her evangelizing, humanizing, 
 philanthropic, kindly agencies. If Max Muller's 
 calculation be correct, that a poor man's vocabulary is 
 limited to about 300 words, then the language of our 
 Prayer- Book, archaic even to educated ears, is simply 
 unintelligible to the costermonger, the waifs and strays
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 175 
 
 of human life, the special species of the genus homo to 
 be found in crowded rooms and stiflingr dens. But these 
 have souls to be saved, these have been redeemed by 
 the 'precious blood-shedding,' and 'if the mountain 
 will not or cannot come to Mahomet, Mahomet must 
 go to the mountain.' 
 
 Some years ago, when home missions were less 
 thought of than they are now, I was preaching at 
 St. Philip's on behalf of the Bishop of London's Fund. 
 My subject was ' Home versus Foreign Missions.' 
 The late Mr. Walter, M.P., of The Times, was present. 
 He came into the vestry and offered to publish, as he 
 did, the sermon at his own cost, and sent me the day 
 following a cheque for ^50, adding how strongly he 
 felt the need of the people of this country realizing the 
 importance of home missions, and regretting that the 
 subject was not more often brought before our congre- 
 gations. Coming from one of his position and influ- 
 ence, his words made a great impression upon me. 
 
 The experience of the 'East End London clergy, 
 than whom the Church has nowhere a more devoted 
 and self-denying body of men, would, if it could be 
 voiced, bear me out in saying that the spiritual con- 
 dition of a vast proportion of their enormous parishes 
 is simply appalling. It is well-nigh paralyzing. It is 
 calculated that 75 per cent, of the people in their 
 districts 'go nowhere.' Nonconformity is not one 
 whit more successful in its efforts than is the Church 
 of England. It is in this seething, festering mass of 
 unleavened humanity that our peril as a nation really 
 lies ; it is in this rank soil that infidelity, socialism, in 
 its most outrc^ forms sow their baneful seeds, to bring 
 forth their harvest of indifference, profanity, apathy,
 
 176 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 license, discontent, and all that is bred of fallen nature 
 apart from the influences of our ' most holy faith.' We 
 are not astonished as much as we are disquieted and 
 
 U " distressed at the answer given by a little child when 
 -^ asked by a magistrate, ' What do you know of God ?' 
 
 ^Ot'v-t-^c Please, sir, that's the name father, when he is drunk, 
 
 ^^^^^JJ^ always swears by. 'J. 
 
 ■^^.- But, again it is to know but little of facts, brought 
 to light and abundantly borne out by Parochial 
 missions, were we to limit the idea or necessity of a 
 mission to the class above described. If a knowledge 
 of ' saving truth ' be sometimes found where you least 
 expect it, such saving knowledge and its practical out- 
 come of a holy life is not found where it might reason- 
 ably be looked for. We need not penetrate into 
 ' darkest Africa ' nor go far to find in our congested 
 cities a 'darkness which may be felt.' Ignorance of 
 saving truth and feeble conception of what Christ 
 would have us both be and do may and do co-exist 
 with conditions of life far removed from savagery or 
 from what is coarse and brutal in our midst. Not 
 until and unless we ^et below the surface and veneer 
 of our cultured and civilized life can we have any con- 
 ception of how 'skin-deep' is 'religion,' how slender 
 its hold over the heart, how feeble the motive for 
 doing right or abstaining from wrong. 
 
 Religion, as we term it, may be no more than 
 veneer ; at best it is but a bundle of ' opinions ' lightly 
 formed, and 'soon shaken by every wind of doctrine.* 
 I speak of that which I know and have observed, not 
 amongst the poorer and uneducated classes only, but 
 amongst the well-to-do and refined. It is astonishing, 
 seeing how important and momentous is religious belief.
 
 •MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 177 
 
 consistently with our profession of it, how very few 
 ' examine themselves whether they be in the faith '; 
 how many know but little of doctrine, its history and 
 credibility. With us at home, for the most part, 
 Christianity is acquiesced in unexamined : it is hardly 
 understood. It has been adopted as apparently 
 the best, most reliable, perhaps most respectable, 
 of creeds, without any pe^'sonal inquiry as to its claim 
 on our acceptance and allegiance. Tens of thousands 
 have inherited it; they have been cradled and baptized 
 in it. As adult baptism is the exception rather than 
 the rule, no opportunity is given to an unconscious 
 infant to inquire into the faith to which at baptism it 
 is committed. 
 
 I recall one instance of a highly educated and 
 thoughtful girl, whose baptism had been neglected in 
 her infancy. When I was preparing her for adult 
 baptism, she took infinite pains herself to understand, 
 as far as she might, every separate article of the 
 Nicene Creed before she consented to be baptized. 
 Such cases are rare. In some instances some few 
 defer their Confirmation on the same grounds, and the 
 preparation of candidates shows the necessity of a 
 thorough doctrinal grounding, as well as of making it 
 the occasion of consecration ; but with the vast 
 majority of the educated classes few seriously examine 
 the grounds, history, and claims of Christianity. They 
 would hesitate to question what parents transmit and 
 pastors commonly teach. It is possible that such 
 would have been equally ready to accept Mohamme- 
 danism or the teaching of Confucius or Buddha had 
 their lot been cast in heathen lands. Religion is a 
 matter of opinion rather than of deep. Spirit-taught, 
 
 12
 
 178 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 unalterable conviction. It comes to be indolently- 
 acquiesced in. Parents, as a rule, take but little pains 
 to indoctrinate their children with its first principles. 
 Many pick up all they know of great verities from 
 scant reading of the Bible, from familiar prayers, from 
 sermons or conversation ; but their knowledge is 
 dubious rather than definite. If for some Gibbon's 
 cynical saying commends itself, that ' to the magistrate 
 all religions were equally useful, to the philosopher 
 equally false, to the people equally true,' the more 
 intellectual classes, unaware of or not recognising the 
 fact that 'spiritual truth is spiritually discerned,' con- 
 sider themselves at liberty to reject what intellect 
 cannot fathom and unaided reason fails to explain. 
 They dub themselves ' Freethinkers.' 
 
 The result of all this want of definite teaching and 
 of personal conviction is that ' believers ' are as 
 grains of gold in the general detritus of wasted and 
 unused lives. You have in your midst men and 
 women with splendid capabilities and abounding 
 opportunities, who acquiesce in a kind of religion that 
 involves but little, which entails no self-denial, is facile 
 to accept, with no recognised claims on heart and life 
 beyond that general standard of religion which saves 
 them from being regarded as ' atheists,' but is of 
 little practical use to themselves or the world at large. 
 It is a religion of perpetual compromise, because half- 
 hearted ; it is uninfluential, because not of conviction ; 
 it is unsatisfying, and fails to comfort or sustain in 
 those great crises of life when faith is tried as to what 
 sort it is. They have some regard for it from its 
 sentimental or aesthetic side. The witchery of colour, 
 the dreamy rapture of sweet music, the effect of glow-
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 179 
 
 ing oratory, the entourage of beautiful architecture, 
 devoutly-rendered service. Imposing ritual, and the 
 ' millinery of religion,' cheat them for the time Into 
 believing that emotion Is religion, that the ' odour of 
 sanctity ' Is holiness. Sermons that deal with social 
 questions are listened to, with the common observation 
 that clergy should * keep abreast with the questions of 
 the day.' ' Practical sermons ' are approved, because 
 all feel that there Is room for improvement, forgetting 
 that Christianity Is not tinkering and patching, but 
 that ' new wine must be put Into new bottles '; that 
 the work of the axe lies at the root of the tree, and not 
 in lopping off its branches ; that we work from, and 
 not for^ life. And, alas ! If the truth must be told, 
 too many of our clergy fall into this snare. There is 
 an increasing tendency to secularize the pulpit, In 
 response to the challenge that we should * keep abreast 
 with the opinions of the day.' Hence preaching lacks 
 mcisiveness. There is not open rebuke of vice, there 
 Is not sufficient of earnest appeal to the heart and 
 conscience. Too many aim at eloquence, with Its flow 
 of words, not at that delivery of * the message ' which 
 needs no such embellishment. 
 
 Now this was not the preaching which won the world 
 to Christ. The earliest sermons were such as sent three 
 thousand away * pricked ' In their conscience, and made 
 to ask, 'What must I do to be saved ?' I am reminded 
 of one who, on my appointment to St. Philip's after 
 Mr. Bellew's ministry, came to me in the vestry and 
 counselled me to follow in his footsteps. ' Did you 
 ever hear him read, sir ? I would go miles to hear 
 him read the lessons.' 'No,' I replied; 'but If his 
 reading of the Bible made you a more diligent reader 
 
 12 — 2
 
 i8o ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 of it, I think you are quite justified in going miles to 
 hear him.' ' Ah, yes,' he said ; ' did you ever hear him 
 read the Ten Commandments ? I would go any 
 distance to hear him read the Commandments.' ' If,' 
 I replied, 'his reading of the Commandments makes 
 you keep them better, I can understand you going any 
 distance to hear him.' ' Oh — ah — yes,' he said. 'Yes, 
 yes ; but that is another thing! It was the old story 
 of the * pleasant voice,' etc. 
 
 There is yet another serious hindrance to that per- 
 sonal piety which is the outcome of sincere conviction 
 and Spirit-taught experience of saving truth. If for 
 the poor the language of our Liturgy is archaic and 
 unwonted, and might for all practical purposes be in 
 an ' unknown tongue,' vital religion is seriously 
 blighted by unreality in what we say and sing in our 
 churches. Take any ordinary congregation on any 
 given Sunday in our cathedrals or parish churches. 
 It is quite true that you cannot compose a Prayer- 
 Book for ' unbelievers.' It may be difficult, if not im- 
 possible, to lower the standard of worship to meet the 
 spiritual requirements of an average ' miscellaneous ' 
 congregation. On all hands it will be agreed that 
 absolute simplicity and veracity of mind are prime 
 conditions of true piety, unless religion is to be fetish 
 worship or of superstitious observance. But is it not 
 true, without judging, but by ' discerning,' that the 
 language of our public worship is of a kind which but 
 a small portion, at best, can honestly appropriate and 
 truthfully use .-* Think of the motives which are at 
 work in promoting public worship and ' church-going.' 
 How many come out of custom, habit, and outward 
 respect for God's holy day ! It would not be ' good
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS i8i 
 
 form ' not to pay at least the feeble tribute of attending 
 one service on Sunday. The force of public opinion, 
 the opportunity of meeting friends after service at a 
 church parade (!), and many more reasons which might 
 be given, prompt church-going. Some of these 
 motives, especially the force of public opinion, operate 
 only on this side of the Channel : they are inopera- 
 tive abroad. We have but to minister on the 
 Continent to see how slender is the hold that the 
 sanctity of God's day has on many ' professing Chris- 
 tians.' The waterworks at Versailles, the races at 
 Chantilly, the pleasant afternoon or evening drive to 
 the Bois, are to many Englishmen far more attractive 
 than Divine service ; or you will see not a few attend- 
 ing Roman Catholic churches who at home are loud in 
 their protestations against the ' errors of the Church 
 of Rome.' The selfish, worldly, frivolous, sceptical, 
 indifferent, are gathered together promiscuously, tares 
 amongst the wheat, within our church walls. How 
 unreal must much they say .and sing be ! There are 
 some ' sitting loose to religion ' to whom religious and 
 serious thought is rare. Secret communion with God ; 
 private reading of His Word ; devout acts of Holy 
 Communion ; the acting and prompting of a sur- 
 rendered heart, what know many habitual worshippers 
 of these ? They are inside church walls, but they are 
 really more at home oiitside. ' Do not think,' said 
 one to me, whom I found on his death-bed without any 
 faith, yet whose attendance at church was habitual, and j/C^~t^ 
 whose attention seemed fixed on me when preaching — jO^ 
 Vdo not think I was listening to one word you said. I 
 was only thinking all the time how I could make money 
 in my business.' ,
 
 i82 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 To put into the lips of those who form the bulk of 
 our congregations, whether in a thieves' kitchen or a 
 luxurious West-End church, language that is the 
 creme de la creme of the most saintly cannot but, in 
 many cases, foster unreality. We come to believe 
 that such language is the expression of our own con- 
 victions. May there not be glib, parrot-like con- 
 fession of sin where the guilt of sin has never been 
 realized, prayers for pardon where the need of for- 
 giveness is not felt, lessons enjoyed if well and intelli- 
 gently read, the sermon listened to if well delivered, 
 and, above all recommendations, if it be short ? And 
 as for hymns which express the fervour of a martyr, 
 the self-abasement or the rapture of a saint, a 
 passionate belief in the reality of things unseen, or 
 eager, impatient longing to 'be in paradise,' I saw in 
 Berkeley Chapel, Mayfair, a young aristocrat twirling 
 his delicate moustache, and his fiancee by his side 
 examining her engagement-ring whilst singing ' O 
 Paradise ! O Paradise ! I long to be at rest !' We will 
 not call this mockery, for it is not intended to be 
 mockery. We will not denounce this as a caricature 
 of religion, because people are unconscious of the 
 incongruity, and have so drifted into this mental 
 condition and attitude that it does not strike them with 
 its unreality ; but i^ we bring a strong indictment 
 against this awful travesty of worship it is to show 
 how this unreality has much to do with the low level 
 of religious life in which too many are content to be, 
 and how fatal it must be to spirituality and to any 
 right, intelligent, and practical understanding of saving 
 truth. It is largely responsible for those glaring incon- 
 sistencies which 'give the enemies of the Lord occasion
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 183 
 
 to blaspheme,' and for that sore lack of 'living wit- 
 nesses ' for Christ which all who name His name 
 should be. Hence it is that for such, to be met with 
 everywhere, a mission is imperatively needed, when, 
 after a period of prayerful preparation, a spirit of 
 expectation is excited. A stranger comes, not to 
 preach some other doctrine, but for a period of ten 
 days or more to proclaim foundation truths — e.g., 
 repentance towards God, faith in our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, obedience to and decision for Him. Under 
 the sought presence of the Holy Ghost, all through- 
 out his preaching, and in the stillness of the after- 
 meeting, the aim and intention of the missioner is to 
 arouse the careless, to restore the lapsed, to edify the 
 believers, and in many ways to make such a time what 
 those who have had large and happy experience of 
 this aspect of home missions have known them, laiis 
 Deo, to have been, ' times of refreshing from the 
 presence of the Lord.' 
 
 A mission brings to light that the laity are by no 
 means so indifferent, so apathetic, so unimpressionable 
 as clergy too often think them to be. It proves also 
 that they respond gladly and heartily to those special 
 efforts, which so often have more ' life ' and reality 
 condensed into one hour or even one half-hour than 
 in the longer time of our more stated and formal 
 services. 
 
 It goes without saying that a mission is not intended 
 to be of a party nature or infected with party spirit ; 
 it goes without saying that its motive must be pure and 
 simple. All this is by way of preface and introduction, 
 and if in what is to follow I here and there narrate 
 experiences, grave or otherwise, in connection with
 
 i84 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 missions ; it is only to show what a missioner has 
 sometimes to face and even endure in conducting one. 
 I need hardly say that, as a mission is a special 
 effort, it must be conducted, for obvious reasons, by 
 someone else than the Vicar of the parish. The very 
 fact that the invitation must come from the Vicar is in 
 itself proof that he himself feels that a perfect stranger 
 should conduct it. If under his own ministry, however 
 faithful, the spiritual life of his parish has become stag- 
 nant or stationary, no special effort on his part is likely 
 to improve its condition. I have met with one who 
 announced his intention of conducting his own mission. 
 He was a Rector of a large and important London 
 parish. In conversation with me he told me he 
 intended to take part in the general London Mission. 
 'Who,' I said, 'are you thinking of to invite to 
 conduct it ?' 'I shall take it myself,' he replied. ' I 
 have no idea of handing over my parish and people to 
 a stranger.' I expressed my surprise, as I knew he 
 had had no experience whatever of conducting missions, 
 and his own ministry was not a success. 'What,' I 
 said, ' do you propose to do ?' ' Well, you choose 
 certain subjects, do you not ?' ' Yes.' ' And you see 
 people after service, and pray with them if they wish 
 it, do you not ?' ' Yes.' ' Well, that is what I shall do. 
 For subjects, I shall take the first evening " Kindness 
 to Servants." Many people are not kind to their 
 servants. At the conclusion of my sermon I shall say: 
 " Now, if any of you feel, after hearing me, that you 
 have not been kind to your servants, I shall be glad to 
 see you in the vestry after service and pray with you." 
 On the next evening I shall take the subject of " Pay- 
 ing Debts." Many people do not pay their debts. At
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 185 
 
 the conclusion of my sermon I shall say: "Now, if any 
 of you are aware that you have not paid your debts, I 
 shall be very glad to see you in the vestry and pray 
 with you." ' Now, all this was said in earnest. He 
 was of a thoroughly practical mind. That was his idea 
 of a mission. I told him I feared he would have to 
 remain for the greater part of the night in the vestry 
 if he were to interview everyone who had not paid up 
 all his outstanding accounts. 
 
 No ; a missioner must be a stranger invited by the 
 Vicar. He must enjoy his confidence all throughout, 
 and be allowed, unquestioned, to do what experience 
 has proved desirable and helpful. The Vicar must be 
 content for the while to stand aside. His presence at 
 the various services is invaluable, as expressing not 
 only his personal and prayerful sympathy, but because 
 as the waters of the Jordan touched first the feet of the 
 priests who bare the Ark, so in many instances the 
 parish priest has been the first to receive a blessing. 
 
 I need not say that the Bishop of the diocese should 
 not conduct the mission. I once asked a Bishop why 
 he did not himself conduct in his cathedral a ' quiet 
 day ' or ' retreat ' for his clergy. His answer was : Tt 
 would not do. We are brought into such difficult and 
 even strained relations with our clergy that it would 
 not do.' Lawn sleeves would be out of place in a 
 parochial mission. Imagine some soul, under deep con- 
 viction, in private interview with a Bishop, having to 
 preface the story of its soul distress with ' My lord ' 
 or ' Your lordship'! The fact is that very few of our 
 Bishops know much about missions. They are not, 
 as a rule, the leaders of the clergy in these spiritual 
 movements. There are some, notably Archbishop
 
 i86 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Maclagan, Bishops Wilkinson, Glyn, Kennlon, and the 
 late lamented Walsham How, who have had consider- 
 able personal experience in the conduct of missions, 
 but with these exceptions our Bishops have had no 
 such experience, and our trouble has sometimes been 
 great with them. Travelling from London to Bourne- 
 mouth in company with the late Dr. Harold Browne, 
 on my way to take the mission at Bournemouth, the 
 Bishop spoke to me about the mission, and said he 
 proposed to preach on the evening of the following 
 Sunday in Holy Trinity. I was bold enough to say : 
 ' Of course, your lordship must do as you think right 
 in your own diocese, but if that is your intention I 
 must at once return home.' Every missioner will 
 understand that the first Sunday, when people neces- 
 sarily come to church, is of the utmost importance 
 to the missioner ; he has the ear of the people. 
 Much depends on the impression made on Sunday, 
 and if you take a definite course of subjects, you 
 must have Sunday evening's opportunity. No one 
 of any experience in preaching at a mission would 
 have made such a proposal. I said to the Bishop : 
 ' If you will give the preliminary address at a 
 gathering of clergy, workers, and others interested 
 in the mission on Saturday afternoon, that would be 
 of real help. We desire to know and feel that we 
 have your sanction for what may be a departure 
 sometimes from the ordinary and strictly rubrical 
 directions, and have your presence and blessing.' 
 To this he at once and very kindly agreed, adding : 
 ' I trust and hope a blessing may rest upon it.' I 
 could not help saying : ' Do not say to the people 
 you trust and hope; this is what they too often
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 187 
 
 say. We must go forth in a spirit of holy assurance 
 that God will fulfil His Word, and that whenever 
 " Christ crucified " is preached in momentary depen- 
 dence on the presence and power of the Holy Ghost, 
 the word preached will be accompanied " with signs 
 following." Strike,' I said, ^ that keynote, and do 
 not let the people feel that while giving it your 
 episcopal sanction you have any doubt or "perhaps" 
 in your mind as to results,' In his address on 
 Saturday, he generously spoke in full confidence of 
 the expected blessing The presence of the late 
 Dr. Campbell, Bishop of Bangor, at nearly all the 
 services when 1 took the mission in his cathedral 
 was a felt power, and the opening address by Bishop 
 Potter, of New York, in the Church of the Heavenly 
 Rest, where I also conducted the mission, was 
 memorable for its tone of encouragement. 
 
 But notwithstanding that you have been specially 
 invited, which implies that confidence is reposed in 
 you, and ought to safeguard you against ' vexation of 
 spirit,' you cannot say that you are always prepared 
 for, if not active opposition, yet for an attitude towards 
 yourself on the part of the one who has invited you v/hich 
 is very trying, and needs much patience and self- 
 restraint. I studiously abstain from mentioning place 
 or name. I was invited — nay, urged — as a ' personal 
 favour ' by a Bishop, no longer with us, to do what is 
 most difficult to do — to take up the broken threads of a 
 mission that had not been carefully prepared for, and 
 was altogether wanting in method. I was to give an 
 address in the cathedral in the afternoon, and the other 
 services were to be held in one of the city churches. 
 In the vestry before service there was the not un-
 
 i88 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 usual chatter about * things temporal.' There was no 
 prayer for God's blessing on the mission. I was not, 
 ab initio., surprised at what the Bishop wrote in asking 
 me to come. I preached on the need of honouring 
 the Holy Ghost, and happened to say that we should 
 not ask for salvation, but that we should pray that the 
 Holy Spirit would show us our need of what was 
 already provided and awaited our acceptance. Noah 
 did not ask for the Ark. I received next morning a 
 very irate letter from the 'Canon in residence.' He 
 said that in all his life he had never heard such 
 teaching ; that nothing would induce him, duty 
 or no duty, to come again as long as I was there. 
 We were to have a prayer - meeting in the city. 
 The Bishop asked me if I did not see people after 
 service and pray with them. I replied that that is 
 one of the most interesting features of a mission. 
 He said that he had had prayer-meetings, had invited 
 people to come and speak to him that he might 
 counsel and pray with them. The prayer-meeting 
 was held in a large schoolroom. There was a raised 
 platform, on which the Bishop, Dean, and some clergy 
 (not the irate Canon) took their places. The Bishop 
 offered up very earnest prayer, and invited anyone 
 moved to do so, to come and speak to him. No one 
 was moved. How was it likely that under any cir- 
 cumstances, but especially in a small cathedral city, 
 where everyone knew everyone, anyone would accept 
 this well-intentioned public invitation ? It was not an 
 'experience meeting.' I could see that the Bishop 
 was ' put out.' I felt for him. We adjourned to the 
 parish church. On our way the Bishop said : ' I shall 
 be curious to watch your method, and see if you are
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 189 
 
 more successful.' I had an uncomfortable feeling of 
 one method being, as it were, ' pitted ' against the 
 other. A considerable number of people remained for 
 the ' after-meeting,' While they were on their knees 
 I suggested, at intervals, topics for prayer ; this is 
 very commonly done. So large was the attendance 
 and so deep the devotion that I felt constrained to 
 prolong this ' after-meeting.' I went into the vestry 
 for a short rest. I found, to my sorrow, not to say 
 great disquietude, the Bishop in a high state of ex- 
 citement. 'I must,' he said, 'solemnly protest. It 
 was like a series of "pop-guns,"' and more which I 
 refrain from repeating. Of course, I felt, under the 
 circumstances, that I had no alternative but to re- 
 turn home next morning. I could not continue the 
 mission under such circumstances. I could not con- 
 tinue, out of respect to the Diocesan, to do what he did 
 not approve of. I could not do so out of self-respect. 
 I explained all this frankly to the Bishop, and re- 
 quested that I might return home. He dissuaded me 
 from doing so, and I remained. 
 
 A year afterwards I invited the Bishop to preach in 
 my church. He came, and took for his text: 'Thy 
 kingdom come.' He was speaking of different agencies 
 at work for the extension of Christ's kingdom. ' And 
 now,' he said, 'we come to missions, in which your 
 Vicar has long taken an active part.' As I sat in the 
 reading-desk, the letter of the irate Canon was recalled, 
 a vision of that scene in the vestry rose before me ! 
 ' Oh,' I said to myself, ' please God, the preacher is 
 not going to solemnly protest against missions !' The 
 Bishop proceeded to say : ' Of all the instrumentalities 
 of our age for giving effect in a parish to this prayer,
 
 I90 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 I know none to be compared with a ** parochial mission." 
 We had one in our city last year ; instead of our usual 
 small number of confirmees, we had this year exactly 
 threefold. When I asked my candidates what led them 
 to desire to be confirmed, in almost every instance it 
 was a resolution made during that mission.' I shed 
 the tears which I could not help shedding, tears of 
 thankfulness. It was a noble confession, and grand 
 testimony on the part of the Bishop. To me it was 
 'the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.' 
 Why do I recall and quote this ? It serves to show 
 that, as a rule, Bishops know little or nothing about 
 the conduct of a mission, but within my knowledge not 
 a few have been persuaded by confessed results to 
 bear grateful testimony to their value. 
 
 The most trying experience I have ever had was in 
 connection with the largest mission I have been privi- 
 leged to conduct. The opposition of which we some- 
 times hear to a mission before people have had 
 experience of it ; the way in which it is sometimes 
 spoken against ; the efforts made to dissuade people 
 from attending the services ; the ridicule cast upon a 
 mission, that it begins and ends with hysterical excite- 
 ment, has no lasting results — I would rather hear all 
 this than not. It is a proof that a good work is about 
 to be done. But this is very different from what a 
 missioner may, and in the most unexpected quarters, 
 have to suffer. 
 
 I was specially invited to conduct a mission in a 
 widely-known church and parish. The Vicar went so 
 far as to say that he would have a mission on the sole 
 condition that I should be the missioner. I accepted the 
 invitation, believing that he had the fullest confidence
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 191 
 
 in me, that he knew from what I had written and by 
 report what I taught, and that I should be received 
 with 'open arms.' It is calculated that 50,000 people 
 attended that mission. Six thousand were counted at 
 the concluding thanksgiving service. A ' very thorn in 
 the flesh ' was sent to buffet me, doubtless lest I should 
 ' be exalted above measure.' When I returned to the 
 Vicarage after the service not one member of that 
 household opened his or her lips to me ! Our meals 
 were eaten in dead, profound silence. This was not a 
 prolonged * quiet day,' where the * rule of silence 
 during meals ' was to be strictly observed. After 
 the strain of a service, as every missioner knows, 
 the conversation at meals, the talking it all over, is 
 of the nature of pleasant reaction, and largely helps 
 you throughout its conduct. But no, not a word ! 
 The Vicar used to wander round and round the pulpit 
 when I was preaching, as if to be assured I was 
 teaching what he taught. I am persuaded that he 
 never anticipated the multitude that came together. 
 What he did expect and why he invited me, I cannot 
 to this day understand or fathom. He was really 
 consumed with unholy jealousy. His own stated 
 ministry did not bring these thousands to his church. 
 It was, in plain English, 'too much' for him and his. 
 He infected his five curates with the same feelingf 
 towards me. When I went to the early Celebration 
 not one of them spoke to me ! I felt almost as if I 
 were some criminal and had committed some great 
 offence. I had no kindly word of farewell when I left. 
 No inquiry was made afterwards that I had not suffered 
 bodily from the tremendous strain. But I felt it must 
 be gone through. What I felt was the workings of
 
 192 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 our poor human nature. It was unfair towards me. 
 No man has a right to invite you of his own accord to 
 leave your own work and devote ten arduous days, 
 preaching four times a day and seeing ' inquirers,' 
 and to treat you after this fashion. But so It was. 
 I try to forget it when I recall the listening thousands ; 
 all that followed afterwards to me of grateful letters ; 
 but, above all, that one of those five curates was 
 himself truly converted. The most opposed to the 
 mission, he himself received a memorable blessing. 
 He was raised up of God to speak as he had never 
 spoken before, and when I told him, after prayer with 
 him, that he should ' tell others what God had done 
 for his soul,' he said : ' I have not waited for you to 
 bid me do this. I did all in m^y power to oppose this 
 mission. I called on people, and endeavoured to 
 dissuade them from attending the services. I have 
 been to every one since to ask their forgiveness for 
 what I both said and did.' Such a fact alone more 
 than outweighs the recollection of what it were idle to 
 say was at times almost more than I could bear. 
 
 These represent experiences in conducting a mission, 
 as unlooked for as I would. fain believe they are rare, 
 almost as incredible as they are painful. There are those 
 who can confirm such experience. Let me draw down 
 the blind over them, and think of others less trying. 
 In some cases you cannot but be aware that the Vicar 
 Is not really en rapport with you. He says nothing 
 one way or the other. It Is not what he expected. 
 The problem to be solved is. What did he expect ? 
 You feel yourself tolerated throughout. I conducted 
 a very God-crowned mission in a cathedral. Night 
 after night the cathedral was crowded, apart from the
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 193 
 
 attendance at other services. We had our usual 
 service of praise and thanksgiving. With a heart full 
 of gratitude to God, I came into the vestry. Then it 
 was that the pent-up, ill-restrained feeling of ten days 
 burst its barriers, like the walls of a reservoir giving way 
 to pressure. All the Dean said was, not 'Thank you,' 
 but ' Thank God it is over !' It is difficult not to feel 
 as you are ministering, there is one present who is really 
 not in sympathy with you ; is bored by the mission ; is 
 criticising more than listening to what God shall say 
 to him. Of such are they who, instead of having the 
 courage of their convictions and saying, * I do not 
 believe in missions,' or ' My people are not yet ripe 
 for one,' fall in with the proposal to hold a ' general 
 mission,' lest they should provoke invidious comment 
 by not taking part in it. Better, perhaps, not to have 
 one at all than, when it ought to be evident that God 
 is owning it, to chafe, fret, and sulk about it. There 
 are minor difficulties, which in almost every case I 
 know may be overcome. There is the difficulty with 
 the organist if you wish to take the music yourself on 
 the week-days, lest he should * take offence.' These 
 are matters not very great in themselves, but to your 
 own mind important. 
 
 There are constant calls on your patience with those 
 who would 'take heaven by violence,' and would 
 anticipate what you know is sure to be in God's good 
 time brought about. In the majority of instances, 
 spread now over many years and with but very few 
 exceptions, of a mission it may be said that the course 
 of true love never runs quite smooth. Fussy people, 
 people with distinct ' fads,' are very trying — e.g., the 
 lady who has a class of boys finds her interest so
 
 194 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 absorbed in them that she would insist on bring- 
 ing them to every service and giving them the best 
 seats in the synagogue, however unsuited the service 
 may be to them. There are those who take umbrage 
 if you do not devote much more attention to that 
 with which they happen to be particularly identified. 
 You are sometimes inundated with long and almost 
 illegible letters from one who is either insane or 
 a ' spiritual invalid,' suffering from morbid self-intro- 
 spection, and who has sought many physicians. On 
 the envelope is marked ' Urgent and immediate^ and 
 you are told that the writer will come at the next 
 service for a reply. Two classes of people come 
 much to the fore during a mission : people who have 
 some 'crank,' and, alas ! dipsomaniacs. Where your 
 time is valuable, the intervals for rest and private 
 prayer brief, and the strain very great, especially in 
 seeing those who come with some definite and very 
 real spiritual want, you would, if you could, eliminate 
 ' queer people,' and those who are victims of drink, 
 who after a short season of remorse will return ' as a 
 dog to its own vomit again, and as a sow that was 
 washed to her wallowing in -the mire.' 
 
 If fussy people try your patience, there are those who 
 are a sore trial to a sense of humour. If unholy 
 thoughts obtrude themselves into the mind in our 
 holiest moods, so, alks ! to one who has a sense of 
 humour the comical will intrude itself. Vergers and 
 pew-openers are at times very trying ; they cannot sit 
 still during an ' after-meeting.' They seem to think 
 that their duties do not end until the lights are put 
 out. It is in vain you speak to them. Where you 
 want absolute stillness, it is trying to see a pew-opener
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 195 
 
 haunting some empty pew, duster in hand. At one 
 mission I conducted there was a very tall verger. His 
 skull, bare of hair, was polished like an ostrich egg. 
 Though the lights were lowered during the ' after- 
 meeting,' he would keep moving restlessly about, and 
 such light as there was reflected, focussed on that bald 
 skull, shone with lustre whithersoever he went. He was 
 simply irrepressible. Two occasions which were 77iost 
 trying are recalled as I write. On one occasion the 
 Mayor and Corporation of a particular town agreed, 
 and very kindly, that they would show how heartily 
 they approved of the mission by coming to the morn- 
 ing service on the first Sunday in state. This we 
 all fully appreciated. They thought they would still 
 further show their approval by coming en grande tenue 
 to the evening service. The church was very crowded. 
 I had an ' after-meeting,' for which a considerable 
 number remained. I never shall forget it. The 
 Mayor and Corporation seemed not to know what to 
 do. They were not remaining out of curiosity. They 
 were packed like herrings in that pew. Either they 
 could not get out or were unwilling to do so. They 
 remained. Mayor, Aldermen, all in full array, with mace 
 and other insignia of office, gowns and gold chain. I 
 ought somehow to have let them know that there would 
 be an after-meeting, for I felt that they were remaining 
 a contre-coeiir. 
 
 But the most trying of all was at another mission. 
 There was a verger who was a 'character.' He was 
 short of stature, with long flowing locks of white hair. 
 He wore a coat which was a cross-breed. I did not 
 know that tailors indulged in such experiments of 
 cross-breeding ; it was in part a beadle's, in part a
 
 196 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 fox-hunter's coat. He never alluded to the Vicar. 
 He called the people 'his dear people': 'My dear 
 people like this,' or 'do not like that.' One evening 
 a neighbouring ' lord ' came to the service, and 
 quietly, and, as he hoped, unobservedly, took a seat 
 in the free seats. The verger spotted him. He went 
 up to his lordship and said : ' You must not sit here.' 
 ' But I wish to sit here.' ' But you must not sit here ; 
 my dear people would not wish it,' and, taking up his 
 hat from under the seat, he said : ' You follow me.' 
 Of course, where his hat went, the owner of the said 
 hat had to follow. 
 
 It was evident that this verger could not make me 
 out with my multiplied services, after-meetings, etc. 
 He was anxious about ' his dear people.' I ' was ware 
 of him,' avoided meeting him. One morning, after my 
 ' Bible-reading,' people complained that the church was 
 cold. Strolling down the nave, I noticed that a window 
 was wide open in the clerestory, which fully accounted 
 for it. I summoned my courage to call the nondescript 
 verger : ' The congregation complain that the church 
 feels cold.' 'Do they — what, my dear people?' 
 * Yes,' I said, ' your dear people,' directing his 
 attention to the open window, and expressing my 
 humble opinion that that was the cause of it. He 
 replied : ' Ah ! the wind has opened it.' Incautiously 
 I replied: 'Yes; it' must have been a very strong 
 wind, for if you notice it has not only blown that 
 window open, but it has blown the cord tight round 
 this fastener — round and round,' suiting the action 
 to the word. 
 
 He gave me one look, I felt I had given myself 
 away, and was henceforth at his mercy. He seemed
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 197 
 
 in the look to say, ' There's one for you,' and I 
 anxiously awaited my fate. His punishment was on 
 this wise : The chancel was under repair. The ante- 
 Communion Office was read from the prayer-desk 
 outside the chancel. What possessed me to do it I 
 cannot tell — I went into the pulpit whilst the Nicene 
 Creed was being said. I was on my knees asking for 
 God's blessing on what I was about to say. Of a 
 sudden, while I was on my knees, I felt a rousing 
 thump planted in my side. I looked, and lo ! there 
 was the verger, looking like the figure of Punch 
 in Punch and Judy. Before I had recovered from 
 the shock he said : ' What are you doing in this 
 'ere ptilpit afore the Nicene Creed be fi^iished? 
 My dear people wont have it. Come out; come 
 down ! ' 
 
 This is a literal fact. It is not forgotten to this 
 day in that town, nor the meek and submissive way 
 in which I did as I was told. If those who have no 
 sense of humour lose not a little of the wine of life, 
 there are times when you could wish you had it not. 
 With one or two suggestions I bring this chapter to 
 a close. 
 
 Parochial missions should be but occasional — held, 
 I think, at the utmost once in ten years in the same 
 parish. I know one or two parishes that seem to live, 
 yet not to thrive, on frequent missions. It is a kind 
 of spiritual dram-drinking. Not only do they by 
 frequency lose much of their effect, but the spiritual 
 life cannot live and thrive on strained and ecstatic 
 feeling. However good it may be to be for a while 
 on the mount, we must come down from Mount 
 Tabor to the daily life below. A violent hurricane
 
 198 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 clears the air of unhealthy miasma or deadly germs ; 
 a downpour of rain floods our streams. Storms and 
 floods are comparatively infrequent in the course of 
 Nature's operations. The one purifies the air, the 
 other sweetens the water, which returns, sweetened 
 by rain, to accustomed channels. In proportion as 
 there is least excitement will the results be permanent. 
 The more soberly and quietly a mission is conducted, 
 the less fear there is of violent reaction. 
 
 Again, the conduct of a mission should not be 
 entrusted to a young man. I sometimes fear lest this 
 great movement within the Church should be, if not 
 wrecked, yet imperilled by entrusting it to men very 
 young in the ministry, and themselves ' babes in Christ.' 
 To have the glib ' gift of utterance ' is not everything. 
 Impassioned appeals, with the idea or intention of 
 arousing and awakening, of eliciting the burning 
 question, ' What must I do to be saved ?' is not the 
 only aim of this special work. There are those who 
 have forgotten their first love ; there are those who 
 need edifying in their ' most holy faith.' The preach- 
 ing with acceptance and power of a certain number of 
 sermons, and not always with consecutive teaching, 
 does not by any means cover what a mission has in 
 view. There are always those in a congregation, a 
 certain percentage, superior to the preacher in know- 
 ledge of the world and its ways, in intellectual acquire- 
 ments, in spiritual attainments ; there are many of 
 riper years and larger experience in things spiritual. 
 None but they who have conducted a mission can have 
 any idea of the facts brought to light by it. I have 
 often said that if some of us, who have had considerable 
 experience, were to put together the facts brought to
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 199 
 
 light, the evident accompanying of the word * with 
 signs following,' they would be the best commentary 
 extant on the Scriptures. The book is as yet un- 
 written. I have by me a large collection of letters, 
 addressed to me during and after a mission, which 
 reveal conditions of mind, strange forms of doubt, 
 subtle questions, suggestions nothing less than ' wiles 
 of the devil,' questions the writer has put to himself or 
 herself indicative of morbid self-introspection, unneces- 
 sary fears, troublesome misgivings, which show how 
 the whole inner being has been stirred to anxiety or 
 tempted to some phase of doubt or unbelief It is 
 with these questionings, convictions, misgivings, fears, 
 doubts, unfounded apprehensions, or too confident 
 assurances, you have to deal. You must yourself have 
 had some experience of these things to know how, 
 under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, to deal with 
 them. It is one thing to know the temperature is 
 high and tongue furred ; it is another thing to know 
 how to deal with sickness. . It is one thing to preach 
 a ' rousing sermon,' it is another to know how to direct, 
 comfort, disabuse the mind of what sometimes is bred 
 of physical infirmity, of morbid self-examination, of mis- 
 understood or misapplied texts of Scripture, and of, in 
 thousands of cases, being left to yourself to comfort 
 yourself. I have, as a fact, known more than one who 
 was powerless to deal with the questionings or con- 
 victions which his sermon suggested or awakened. It 
 is in our large hospitals that physicians acquire that 
 experience which qualifies them for treating their 
 patients separately. It cannot, 1 think, be too strongly 
 insisted on that a mission should be conducted by one 
 whose age is some guarantee that he has had experience
 
 200 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 of life, and whose ministry has brought him into 
 intimate contact with the varied phases, moods, and 
 needs of the spiritual life : 
 
 ' Rich in experience that angels might covet, 
 Rich in a faith that has grown with the years.' 
 
 Again, should this volume fall into the hands of a 
 vicar contemplating having a mission in his parish, to 
 him I would sav, Endeavour to secure a missioner who 
 is not only equipped for this special work by being him- 
 self ' taught of God ' and of ripe experience, but secure 
 one whom you can fully trust, who by birth, training, 
 and instinct will not abuse the confidence unreservedly 
 placed in him. No words, to my mind, are too strong 
 in which to inveigh and protest against a missioner 
 who takes an ungenerous and unsuspected advantage 
 of his opportunity. How.'* By acting as a sort of 
 spy, and, under the mask of a missioner, retailing to 
 the Diocesan all the possible defects and shortcomings 
 of the stated ministry, all the local gossip and tittle- 
 tattle of the parish. I have known such. I have 
 even taken it upon myself to warn a Diocesan of the 
 harm his missioner was doino- with his evil tong-ue, 
 and have seen the indignation which, when discovered, 
 it excited. ' Never again shall he enter my doors or 
 church,' have I more than once heard said. 
 
 If a mission is tc' be the occasion of 'espionage,' 
 and the 'missioner,' under guise of a missioner, forgets 
 his mission, it needs no prophet to predict the discon- 
 tinuance of parochial missions. A missioner is received 
 on the footing of an invited guest. To have to 
 entertain a missioner for ten days is often a tax, 
 willingly borne by an already impoverished Vicar and
 
 'MISSIONS' AND MISSIONERS 201 
 
 his wife. He cannot recoup himself out of offertories. 
 He does his best to supply his missioner's wants. It 
 is a gross abuse of the first laws of hospitality, it is a 
 betraying ' with a kiss,' if, instead of being a fellow- 
 helper in Christ, it becomes known that the Vicar has 
 been entertaining a Judas, and not * an angel unawares.' 
 
 I cannot close this chapter without quoting the 
 words of an experienced missioner, the late Bishop 
 Thorold : 
 
 * The echo of the teaching ; the tenderness of the 
 joy ; the thrill of the renewed repentance ; the sense 
 of holy nearness to the Lord and His people, must 
 presently leave the surface of the soul, and become 
 absorbed into its general life and consciousness ; but it 
 will still be there, only, as with the joy of a long past 
 conversion, and the first wonder of the forgiven heart, 
 deeper down, neither forgotten nor lost.' 
 
 Such, from long experience, I earnestly believe is 
 the blessing of a mission begun, continued, and ended 
 in God, to whom be all the praise.. 
 
 The following books will be found helpful : 
 
 Parochial Missions : Bishop of Rochester (Dalby, Isbister and Co.). 
 Practical Hints for Parochial Missions (Longhurst). 
 Handbook of Special Mission Services : Money (Hunt and Co.). 
 Handbook for Mission Workers : Caudwell (Longhurst). 
 Suggestions as to the Conduct of a Mission : Cowley Fathers. 
 Suggestions for Lay Workers in a Mission (Longhurst).
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 CATHEDRALS AND CATHEDRAL LIFE 
 
 Cathedrals and cathedral life ; this is a large and 
 comprehensive subject. I cannot attempt within the 
 limits of this chapter to do more than confine myself to 
 my own experience, writing from that experience 
 rather than from what Bishop Butler would include 
 amongst ' fine sketches of virtue.' There are those who 
 have written on this subject, not from actual experi- 
 ence, but whose name and reputation are of great 
 value — ^.^., the late Mr. Beresford Hope, in his work,* 
 ' The English Cathedrals of the Nineteenth Century.' 
 The work, dedicated to the Cambridge Architectural 
 Society, has more to do with the architectural features 
 of our English cathedrals than with a Dean's experi- 
 ence. The opening sentence is this : ' A cathedral is, 
 as everyone knows who has thought ever so little upon 
 the matter, both a building and an institution'; and 
 while the greater part of this book is devoted to the 
 building, there are not a few valuable suggestions from 
 a cultivated layman's point of view as to the use or 
 uses to which our cathedrals both may and should 
 be put. 
 
 I imagine that few Deans, if indeed any, have not 
 
 " ' English Cathedrals.' (John Murray.) 
 
 [ 202 ]
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 203 
 
 read with interest and profit ' Essays on Cathedrals,'* 
 edited by one who took the deepest interest in the 
 Cathedral of Chester, and was instrumental in restoring 
 a considerable portion of it. Perhaps this is the most 
 comprehensive and valuable book extant. i\ll the 
 contributors to it have had to do with cathedrals and 
 cathedral life, and may be said to have treated both 
 exhaustively. These are the subjects dealt with : 
 Cathedral Canons and their Work ; Cathedrals in their 
 Missionary Aspect ; Cathedral Foundations in Relation 
 to Religious Thought ; Cathedral Churches of the Old 
 Foundation; Cathedral Reform, Past, Present, Future; 
 the Education of Choristers in Cathedrals; the Relation 
 of the Chapter to the Bishop ; Cathedral Schools ; the 
 Architecture of the Encrlish Cathedrjils considered 
 Historically. The names of the writers of the essays 
 on these different subjects are : Dean Howson, Bishop 
 Goodwin, Archdeacon N orris, Beresford Hope, Bishop 
 Westcott, Sir Frederick Caseley, Archbishop Benson, 
 Canon Durham, Canon Venables. It would be difficult 
 to name or imagine any men more fitted to write on 
 the subject. The late Archbishop Benson has also 
 contributed a small volume, which he wrote when 
 Bishop of Truro, where he held the unique position of 
 Bishop of the Diocese and Dean of the Cathedral 
 
 It will be seen at once that essays such as these 
 cover almost, yet not altogether, the whole ground. 
 Bishops have their private conferences and meet in 
 camera. We Deans have thought it good to have our 
 conference, and we discuss subjects which are marked 
 'private.' I can imagine the Canons and Minor 
 Canons outside this ' charmed circle ' curious to know 
 
 * 'Essays on Cathedrals by Various Writers.' (John Murray.)
 
 204 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 what we meet for, what we discuss, for much is left to 
 conjecture and imagination. I have heard it whispered 
 that Precentors propose to have a conference ; 
 Organists have already held more than one. Probably 
 we shall hear of Vicars Choral and Minor Canons 
 having a 'quiet day.' It is possible that it may occur 
 to Vergers and those associated with cathedrals to meet 
 together for the same purpose. One such was held 
 when I first came to Bristol. Some alarm was excited 
 in view of many additional services which I proposed 
 to hold. It oozed out and reached my ears that the 
 question was put from the chair : ' If this sort of thing 
 goes on, when shall we get our dinners on Sunday ?' 
 The resolution was put and carried nevi. con. ' that it 
 should be eaten on Saturdays.' 
 
 There is an idea abroad that only grievances are 
 discussed and ventilated in our secret conclaves : that 
 Bishops seriously consider their relation to Deans ; 
 that Deans seriously consider their relation to 
 Bishops ; that Deans put their heads together as to 
 their relation to the Canons ; and that all sorts of 
 gravamina are discussed, and very determined resolu- 
 tions passed. So far as' I know, we have very 
 pleasant reuniojts in different centres. We preface 
 them with prayer for ' godly concord.' We discuss 
 subjects with which these essays to which I have 
 alluded deal, and some few not touched upon in 
 them, occasioned by the very remarkable difference 
 of ' use ' in our cathedrals and the varied interpreta- 
 tions of Statutes. We discuss in what direction 
 our cathedrals may be made more and more useful, 
 more and more as the Mother Church should be, 
 and would be but for the jealousy on the part of some
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 205 
 
 of the parochial clergy — viz., the core and centre of the 
 spiritual life of the diocese. That such feeling does 
 exist towards the cathedral is an unhappy fact too 
 notorious to be doubted or disputed. On my appoint- 
 ment to Chichester, one of the local clergy, no longer 
 there, took the opportunity of saying to me on return- 
 ing his call : ' If I had my way I would pull the 
 cathedral down ; "down with it, down with it, even to the 
 ground.'" It is the same sort of spirit which exists on 
 the part of district churches towards the mother parish. 
 Her children lift up their heel against her. Many 
 years ago a Vicar of a district church in one of our 
 large towns, afterwards promoted to be Vicar of the 
 old parish church, said to me : ' I could not have 
 believed that such jealousy existed towards the old 
 parish church until I was made Vicar of it.' That 
 every cathedral, represented by its Dean and Chapter, 
 should justify its existence in every way possible, with 
 their special opportunities, making them useful and 
 popular, is the great, I migbt say simple, object of our 
 annual conference. 
 
 I have elsewhere said how in my boyhood days I 
 had always imagined and pictured to myself a deanery 
 of one of our English cathedrals as the beau iddal of 
 a sphere of quiet ministerial usefulness, something 
 per se, not a sort of paddock into which to turn out 
 the worn-out parish priest to graze at his leisure. It 
 was a too long prevalent notion that a Dean lived for 
 the rest of his days on a sofa or sat in easy armchair 
 en luxe, chewing the cud of past experience, enjoying 
 to the full the otiwn cum dwnitate, not reofardingf the 
 cathedral as a great trust and great centre of varied 
 activity. I do not know if the phrase otium cum
 
 2o6 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 dignitate was originally applied to and predicated of 
 Deans. It is not impossible, when we compare 
 the activity of modern cathedral life with the past, 
 when Deans were aged and Canons not far behind 
 them in years, that the general soporific atmosphere 
 of a cathedral suggested the phrase. Dean Hole 
 once gravely assured me that the expression ' Dash 
 my buttons f must have originated with a Dean 
 fastening his gaiters, on hearing the cathedral bell 
 ringing down, when there was a hitch with the buttons. 
 Under these most irritating and trying circumstances, 
 I am certain that 'the more hurry the less speed.' 
 But whatever or whoever originated the expres- 
 sion could not truthfully apply it now. Except 
 for increasing infirmities, which are inseparable from 
 increase of vears, which do not allow of the same 
 activity as in younger days, I venture to say that the 
 Deans of cathedrals are amongst the most active 
 and hard-working of our clergy ; only the venue is 
 changed. If certain physical infirmities beset them, 
 these do not lessen the deep interest which Deans 
 continue to take in their great trust. If boys have 
 their hero-worship, many of them have their ' ideals.' 
 I have never been ambitious to be a Bishop, though I 
 might have been one had I said ' Yes ' when I was 
 about thirty-two years of age. In my childhood it 
 seemed a ' climbing to dizzy heights ' ; for as a child I 
 somehow fancied that the Church of England was an 
 enormous sugar-loaf, and that the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, after much 'toil and trouble,' sat astride 
 at the top. I know now that it is not so. 
 
 But a deanery, despite apron, gaiters, and trouble- 
 some ' buttons,' fascinated me. To be Dean of one of
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 207 
 
 those stately historic piles, monuments as they stand, of 
 the piety, devotion, zeal, munificence, labours of past 
 generations ; to be set free from the strain and anxieties 
 of parochial work — its ' serving tables,' its demands on 
 your time, which do not allow of much for reading, the 
 foregoing of domesticity because of work that can 
 only be done at the cost of evening home-life — to 
 exchange all this for what cathedral life and its possi- 
 bilities offered, could not but have its attractions. 
 How many of the hundreds of our hard-working 
 parochial clergy find themselves sometimes saying 
 in their hearts, * I should like to be a Dean !' 
 They visit a cathedral on a summer's day ; they 
 bring their choir or workmen to some festival 
 within its time-honoured walls. They notice the 
 orderliness and stateliness of procession and service. 
 Their ears are regaled with the singing of picked 
 voices, accompanied by a skilled organist. They are 
 conscious of certain influences which are not, cannot be, 
 even in a noble parish church. Their choir and workers 
 are sensible of the same. They return to their parishes 
 with higher conceptions of worship, with an inspiration 
 which the very fabric and its associations inspire. It 
 has been to them a 'time of refreshing from the presence 
 of the Lord.' They say to themselves, ' It is good to be 
 here,' before they return to their everyday and less in- 
 spiriting sphere of labour. To be Dean of a cathedral, 
 associated with Canons of like mind and common 
 desire, is not only a sacred trust, but a great 
 privilege. 
 
 It has pleased God to ' fulfil my heart's desire,' with 
 no conscious laying myself out for it. It came to me 
 as other things have come. I think I am correct in
 
 2o8 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 saying that, without exception, I am the only living 
 clergyman who has been transferred from one deanery 
 to another, and have been Dean of a cathedral both 
 on the Old and New Foundation, so that I have had 
 experience of both, one for three, the other for now 
 twelve years. Papers at Church Congresses are 
 sometimes read by men who theorize. I do not say 
 that very often the fruit of their meditations is not 
 useful by way of suggestion, but they are not Deans. 
 Looking over a precis of subjects discussed at Church 
 Congresses for the past twenty years, I find that 
 papers on cathedrals for the most part range them- 
 selves under these heads, and ring these changes on 
 the familiar theme, e.g. : * Cathedrals and Cathedral 
 Institutions ' ; ' Use of Music in Cathedrals ' ; 
 ' Cathedrals ' ; ' Our Cathedrals ' ; ' The Cathedral 
 System.' However good the papers, they are not 
 always written by those who have that knowledge 
 which only experience can give. I am not quite sure 
 if a Dean has ever been invited to give his views 
 from personal experience. There must be in this, as 
 in other matters, a great difference between writing 
 from theory and writing from experience, experientia 
 docet. 
 
 If there be anything which a Dean feels, and in 
 putting off the harness of a parish priest and putting 
 on the less arduous yoke of a Dean he misses, 
 it is that he is at once not only excluded from ministra- 
 tions which were his for a large part of his previous 
 life, but all his past experience seems to be forgotten 
 or ignored by others with whom he has to do. He 
 misses especially those opportunities of visiting the sick
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 209 
 
 and dying, from which he has as often learned as he has 
 sought to impart some lesson. This is not to say he 
 never has an opportunity. The parochial clergy are 
 always ready to give him permission to visit a sick 
 person who is an habitual worshipper at the cathedral, 
 and to administer Holy Communion in their parish. 
 This, however, he does, not of right, but by permission. 
 
 We have no parishioners in our cathedrals except 
 in particular cases. For instance, Ripon, Bangor, Man- 
 chester, Wakefield, Newcastle, and one or two more 
 are parish churches. I was Vicar of the Close at 
 Chichester. Marriages can therefore be solemnized in 
 such cathedrals without the expense of a ' special 
 license.' The fees, inclusive of a special license, 
 amount in our cathedral to about ^100. All this is 
 doubtless arranged in order to protect parochial 
 rights, and to preclude the possibility, in the great 
 majority of cases, of alienating fees from the parochial 
 clergy. People would naturally wish to be married in 
 the cathedral, which so lends itself to a wedding, but 
 they think more than twice about paying ^100 for the 
 privilege ! 
 
 All this conduces to accentuate what a Dean is in 
 many other ways made aware of. He is disassociated 
 from parochial work. This he, of course, understands. 
 But what he can not understand is that at once, as it 
 were, all his large, varied, and accumulated experience 
 as a parish priest is ignored. It might for all practical 
 purposes never have been. He may have held more 
 important trusts and had really larger general ex- 
 perience than anyone else in the diocese, but he finds 
 it is not utilized. Rarely, if ever, does the Bishop of 
 the diocese take counsel with him or invite him to 
 
 14
 
 2IO ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 speak at meetings on subjects with which he is familiar. 
 I suppose that one explanation of this is that parochial 
 work and matters of diocesan organization are no 
 longer considered his metier. I write from ex- 
 perience. Shortly after my appointment to Chiches- 
 ter, I was in every way encouraged to believe that the 
 students of the Theological College anticipated my 
 coming with interest and pleasure, because of my long 
 and varied parochial experience, and of the frequency 
 with which I had conducted * Retreats for Clergy.' 
 Acting gladly on this assurance, we had a few very 
 happy evenings in their rooms, which we mutually 
 enjoyed. It was not long before I was made aware of 
 influences at work which put a stop to our gatherings. 
 Practically, ' it was not the Dean's business.' With 
 the exception of occasionally preaching an Ordination 
 Sermon since I have been here, I, who have given 
 the addresses to ordinees in the days past, preliminary 
 to their ordination, at the request of many Diocesans, 
 have never been asked to do so since I became a 
 Dean. By degrees there comes over you a sense of 
 isolation from what at one time was part and parcel of 
 your ministerial life. You do not complain of it, but 
 what you do feel is that all past experience goes for 
 nothing, and you say to yourself, as do many Deans : 
 ' What can be the reason why a Diocesan does not care 
 to utilize the experience of years i*' 
 
 Take yet another instance of what I mean. Because 
 of long and large experience of conducting missions, 
 shortly after my appointment here two city clergy- 
 men called on me, with, as I assumed, authority to do 
 so, to ask me if I would set on foot a 'General Mission' 
 for Bristol. Of course, as we had at that time no
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 211 
 
 Bishop of Bristol, I at once said how gladly I would do 
 so, and how readily I would place the cathedral, as far 
 as I could, at the disposal of the mission. I was very 
 soon made aware of the stir that such a request made : 
 that it should have been made to the Rural Dean, etc., 
 etc.. and it was all nipped in the bud. Here, again, all 
 past experience was ignored. I asked a brother Dean 
 of large parochial experience if my case was singular. 
 He replied : ' No, mine is precisely the same, and the 
 result is I never go to diocesan meetings, as it is evident 
 I am not wanted.' It reminds me of the man who was 
 asked why he was not at a particular dinner-party. 
 ' For the very simple reason,' he replied, ' that I was 
 not invited.' 
 
 One is so liable to be misunderstood, or a construc- 
 tion is so often put on what you may think or say 
 which never entered your mind, that I can only repeat 
 that, apropos of 'cathedral life,' this is not said from 
 ' pique,' or from any unworthy spirit, but simply as a 
 matter of fact, which one ' may regret, and the raison 
 £Hre for which one fails to fathom. It is also very 
 curious that a Dean is not ig^nored or allowed to feel 
 that he has ' no part nor lot ' in the diocese when sub- 
 scriptions for diocesan purposes are solicited. If, 
 therefore, a Diocesan cares to look elsewhere for what 
 a Dean could and would gladly render of service, he 
 must not be surprised if, as one Dean said to me, ' I 
 retire like a snail into my shell.' As a set-off to much 
 that makes a deanery a sphere of happiness is that 
 isolation from parochial or diocesan interest which, as 
 far as I have had opportunities of noticing, is the fate 
 of a Dean, as unexpected as it is inexplicable. 
 
 It may not be of interest to the general reader to 
 
 14 — 2
 
 212 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 enter upon the difference between a cathedral on the 
 Old Foundation and one on the New. Cathedrals on the 
 Old Foundation are York, London, Lichfield, Here- 
 ford, Wells, Salisbury, Exeter, Lincoln, Chichester, 
 St. David's, Llandaff, Bangor, and St. Asaph. The 
 rest are on the New. The cathedrals on the Old 
 Foundation are those churches which, being ecclesics 
 cathedrales, have a Bishop and Chapter attached 
 whose foundation is older than the changes made 
 under Henry VHI. Those of the New Foundation 
 are those whose Chapters in their present form date 
 from the time of Henry VHL They are as follows : 
 Canterbury, Durham, Winchester, Norwich, Wor- 
 cester, Gloucester, Bristol, Peterborough, Carlisle, 
 Rochester, Oxford, Ely, Manchester, Chester. 
 
 The constitution of churches of the Old Foundation 
 has not been essentially changed since the thirteenth 
 century. ' By that time,' says Freeman, ' all the Old 
 Foundations seem to have assumed that peculiar con- 
 stitution which has since been altered only in detail' 
 Every English cathedral, with the exception of Truro, 
 has the Dean as the g-eneral head of the whole 
 Capitular Body. He is the ' Ordinary.' The Dean 
 is universally the one whose special office, unques- 
 tioned, is to attend to all that concerns the cathedral, 
 and without whose , sanction and permission nothing 
 can be done. The Bishop is the Visitor. By 
 degrees, too many to be considered here, the Bishop's 
 authority in the cathedral was undermined. You 
 cannot have two ' Ordinaries ' or two heads ; it would 
 be a sort of Siamese Twins, or a bicephalous child, 
 both of which are phenomenal and unworkable. 
 Someone must be responsible for all which con-
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 213 
 
 cerns a cathedral. The Bishop's province is his 
 diocese, a very wise arrangement ; the Dean's 
 province is the cathedral, a very wise arrangement 
 also. In the Old Foundation, next in rank to the 
 Dean comes the Precentor. In Chichester Cathedral 
 his stall faces that of the Dean. Next in order 
 is the Canon-in- Residence, who cannot do anything 
 mero motu ; next comes the Chancellor, then the 
 Treasurer, whose special care is the vessels, furni- 
 ture, and ornaments of the cathedral, receiving and 
 distributing moneys, etc. These four seem always to 
 have been looked upon as absolutely essential to the 
 discipline of a fully -ordered cathedral. The high rank 
 given to the Precentor in all the Old Foundations is not 
 accorded in the New. This important post is held by 
 a Minor Canon. On the Old Foundation the Minor 
 Canons are Vicars Choral and separate corporations. 
 What are called Minor Canons in the New Foundation 
 are called Prebendaries in the Old. They have their 
 preaching turns. It is needless to say that an Arch- 
 deacon — qtid Archdeacon — is not a cathedral officer. 
 I doubt if he is entitled to a stall as Archdeacon. 
 Generally, the Archdeacon is also a Residentiary 
 Canon. Later Foundations, as with Bristol, have a 
 sub- Dean and a Sacrist, not essential, but convenient. 
 Sub-Dean, by the way, is liable to be misunderstood. 
 In one of our cathedrals, where a procession was being 
 formed for some function, the Dean's daughter said : 
 ' / saw, father, the sardine coming^ But whether on 
 the Old or the New, the position of a Dean is a 
 'limited monarchy.' He is not so absolute as that he 
 can always act independent of the Chapter. His office 
 is more or less restricted. It is more restricted in the
 
 214 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Old than in the New Foundation. But whether of Old 
 or New Foundation, his position and rights are un- 
 questioned. The appointment to a deanery rests with 
 the Crown absolutely. On the Old Foundation the 
 Canons Residentiary are in, I think, every case 
 appointed by the Bishop. In the case of the New 
 they are appointed by the Lord Chancellor. On the 
 whole, I should say I prefer the latter. It is quite 
 true that the effect of the last class of appointments 
 has been to make the New Foundation Chapters 
 much less closely connected with the several dioceses 
 than the older bodies are, but where the Residentiary 
 Canons, who make up the governing body of a 
 cathedral, are appointed by the Diocesan it is easy to 
 see that, as appointed by the Diocesan, supposing any 
 question to arise which affects the cathedral, or suppos- 
 ing that a Bishop was disposed to interfere, it might 
 put a Dean into a difficult position. Personally, from 
 experience of both, I should say that, while the 
 Diocesan has a considerable patronage both in the Old 
 and New Foundation in the appointment of Pre- 
 bendaries and Honorary Canons, it works generally 
 better that appointments to the Residentiary Canon 
 should rest with the Lord Chancellor. 
 
 This leads me to say something on the relation of 
 the Dean to the Diocesan. To some it seems an 
 anomaly that a Bishop should have less authority in 
 * his cathedral,' as it is always worded, than a parson is 
 supposed to have in a parish church in his diocese. 
 The Bishop is the Visitor, to whom appeals may be 
 made by anyone officially connected with the cathedral 
 in the event of any serious dispute either between the 
 Dean and the Chapter or any official — e.g., a Minor
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 215 
 
 Canon, organist, or anyone on the Foundation. This 
 gives a Bishop certain power of, I think, an invidious 
 nature. He might by his decision accentuate a dispute 
 whichever side he espoused, and make confusion worse 
 confounded. Again, his decision is not absolute and 
 decisive. The aggrieved may appeal to the House of 
 Lords. The recent case at Chester where the Bishop 
 decided against the Chapter shows this. The Dean 
 and Chapter appealed against the Visitor's judgment, 
 and the House of Lords decided against the Visitor. 
 All this is very undesirable. I am well aware — every 
 Dean is more or less so — that Bishops chafe under 
 their position. They feel they are ' tolerated.' They 
 fret like caged birds under the restrictions of which 
 they are keenly conscious. It is no use denying this. 
 1 am not sure — I may be mistaken — but, speaking 
 from the experience of a Vicar of such parishes, e.g., 
 as Doncaster and Halifax, I do not think that 
 Diocesans have more power in the direction they seek 
 in a parish church than they have in a cathedral. I 
 very much doubt that a Diocesan can override the 
 rights in his own church of a Rector or Vicar. I 
 very much doubt that a Diocesan can, as Diocesan, un- 
 invited, claim a right to occupy the pulpit, or the 
 right to celebrate Holy Communion, because he is the 
 Diocesan. I think the majority of beneficed clergy will 
 bear me out in this. I cannot recall a single occasion, 
 whether in my London or after days, when the Bishop 
 of the diocese ever wrote to me to the effect that he 
 was coming to St. Philip's or Doncaster or Halifax, 
 and wished to preach or celebrate. 
 
 The ' use ' in cathedrals differs as much as the 
 architecture itself. Perhaps no one more than I has
 
 2i6 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 had occasion to find out the ' use ' in our different 
 cathedrals as regards rights and privileges. The 
 cathedrals are very few in which provision, e.g., is 
 made for the Bishop to preach. Speaking from my own 
 twofold experience, the Bishop of Chichester had no 
 ' preaching turn ' in his cathedral, but I always invited 
 him to preach on the afternoon of Easter Day. We 
 had two Celebrations every Sunday. Observing that 
 the late aged Bishop always came to the early Celebra- 
 tion, I asked him if he would like to take that Celebra- 
 tion. He did not come as a right. He courteously 
 thanked me for my permission to take the Celebration. 
 He could not have preached whenever he liked, 
 because the Prebendaries are bound by Statute to 
 preach in turn, but they could, of course, invite the 
 Bishop to take their place. The Bishop of this diocese 
 has no ' preaching turn.' The Canons-in-Residence 
 are bound by statute to preach twelve sermons, and I 
 agreed to assign them the morning pulpit. So long as 
 I do not interfere with these statutory obligations, I 
 have, as Dean, power to preach whenever I like. This 
 could only, therefore, be, as regards the Canons, on the 
 thirteenth Sunday of their residence. We have no 
 sermon in the afternoon. The Diocesan has not the 
 power to order one. The nave service is non-statu- 
 tory, so that it will be seen the question of power 
 is a question of ' statute,' which a Diocesan cannot 
 override. 
 
 Out of all this, people outside, ignorant of facts, 
 either speak of the anomalous position of a Bishop or 
 fancy that there is always more or less ' friction,' 
 strained relations between a Diocesan and a Dean or a 
 Diocesan and the Chapter. It is really not so. More
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 217 
 
 than this, it ought never to be. The appointment of 
 twenty-four honorary Canons is, to a certain extent, 
 a recognition of the Bishop's power in his cathedral. 
 He can command a Sunday morning or week-day for 
 his Ordination, and the ordinary service is altered to 
 suit it. He cannot command the services of the choir, 
 but he can appoint the preacher, courteously informing 
 the Dean of his selection. He has the cathedral at 
 his disposal for his Confirmations, or occasional re- 
 treats for his clergy. What else would he have or 
 do ? Surely the supervision, organization, innumerable 
 calls on a Diocesan are sufficient for any one man 
 in these breaking-down days, without desiring more ? 
 Think of public meetings in endless variety ; the 
 claims of the parochial clergy on their Diocesan's 
 presence and help on Sundays and at other times. 
 Then there is correspondence, a very weariness to 
 the flesh, often unnecessary, yet which must be in 
 courtesy acknowledged.* There is Convocation ; a 
 seat in the House of Lords ; a life lived more or 
 less on the railway ; the hurrying to and from every 
 part of a diocese. With the very laudable desire of 
 every Diocesan to visit separately each parish, what 
 more can a Bishop desire both of opportunity and 
 
 * The chaplain of Archbishop Benson told me that the average 
 number of letters received every day was about 500. Answers provoke 
 letters. Canon Lonsdale told me that his father was overwhelmed 
 with letters, and always courteously replied to them. He received 
 a letter from a vicar whom he had recently appointed to a living to 
 the effect that he and his wife could not decide what paper would suit 
 the walls of their dining-rootn. They decided to consult the Bishop, 
 and sent down one or more of those massive and bewildering samples 
 furnished by upholsterers. The Bishop selected one which he thought 
 suitable to a modest country vicarage.
 
 2i8 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 power ? Does he, in addition to labour, under which 
 the strongest are breaking down and becoming pre- 
 maturely old, desire also to order and control all the 
 details of a cathedral, and reduce the Dean to a kind, 
 not of suffragan, but senior curate ? No man who has 
 held independent trusts, as those of a Rector or Vicar, 
 would submit in his later years to such a subordinate 
 position. Surely the State acted wisely in practically 
 limiting a Diocesan's power and province to the exi- 
 gencies of a diocese, and a Dean's to those of a 
 cathedral. A Bishop would be the first to take excep- 
 tion to a Dean obtruding himself in the diocese, and a 
 Dean and Chapter would take exception to a Diocesan 
 attempting to exceed his powers in a cathedral. It is 
 perfectly possible to live together happily, not on the 
 conditions of what we see huddled together in a cage 
 and represented as a * happy family,' but by mutual 
 recognition of each other's rights by the law of Christian 
 courtesy. Of one thing I am quite certain, that if a 
 Diocesan at any time expressed a wish to preach, 
 the pulpit would readily be placed at his disposal. If 
 he desires the use of the Chapter-room, it is at once 
 lent. If there be any object which he has much at 
 heart, he has only to express it to the Dean. So that 
 he is really not 'tolerated,' but welcomed; and, so far 
 as my experience goes, if the Dean remembers what 
 is due to his Diocesan of respect for his office, and 
 behaves as one gentleman to another, there cannot be 
 ' friction,' there cannot be strained relations where 
 rights are mutually recognised, and on neither side 
 infringed or questioned. 
 
 From the relation of the Bishop to the Dean, and 
 vice versa, where a mutual recognition of respective
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 219 
 
 rights is a safeguard against 'friction,' one is led to 
 consider the relation of a Dean to the Residentiary 
 Canon. It is practically much the same, both on Old 
 and New Foundations. Let no one think that to enter 
 on a deanery is the same thing as to enter on another 
 parish. It took me fully two months to find out where 
 I was when I was appointed to Chichester. In view 
 of the whole cathedral body, including Canons, Pre- 
 bendaries, Precentor, Vicars Choral, Organist, lay 
 clerks, and even vergers, after paying each their due, 
 I had to consider how much was left for the Dean. 
 With other rights recognised, what rag of authority 
 was left to him ? Everyone seemed to me to have 
 a bite of the apple. That the Dean was the head 
 was, of course, recognised, but there are 'many members 
 of the same body,' and all members have not the same 
 office. 
 
 Here, again, especially with those with whom you 
 are more intimately brought in contact, as the govern- 
 ing body, relations may be strained. There is room 
 for ' friction.' There is a notion prevalent that 
 ' strained relations ' are the normal condition of Dean 
 and Chapter, that a ' Chapter ' is rarely held with- 
 out internecine squabbles. My experience is all to 
 the contrary. I cannot recall in fourteen years a single 
 instance where there has not been what we pray in our 
 opening prayer may animate us — a 'spirit of godly 
 concord.' If a Dean were an autocrat, intent on having 
 everything his own way, regardless of the wishes or 
 opinions of the Canons, friction could not but arise and 
 touch the bloom of * godly concord.' I suppose that 
 practically no one always stands on his rights ; I have 
 some which I think I have hardly ever had occasion to
 
 220 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 assert and insist on. If you 'can drive a coach and 
 four through an Act of Parliament,' so in relation to 
 the Canon Residentiary. 
 
 It does not do to allow no room for yielding in 
 deference to reasonable suggestions. The real truth is 
 that it is with Dean and Chapter 'give and take' if 
 you wish to work harmoniously. There must be 
 mutual concession where no great principle is involved 
 by it. A Dean has always to remember that the 
 Canons are not his curates. They are all men of 
 experience, advanced in years, who have themselves 
 held independent positions in the Church, and in 
 many cases have considerable reputation as scholars^ 
 preachers, and authorities. They are, as a rule, 
 appointed, not from nepotism or any personal relation- 
 ship to the patron, or through private influence, but 
 because they are more or less distinguished for their 
 attainments or other qualifications for which a sphere 
 of usefulness will be found in cathedral work and 
 cathedral life. I do not say that the element of — shall 
 I say jealousy of the Dean's headship ? — never creeps 
 into the mind and attitude of a Canon Residentiary. 
 From having for some years 'enjoyed independence, it 
 is perhaps only poor human nature if they should some- 
 times feel their position is no longer quite the same. In 
 individual cases the tendency would be less to support 
 the Dean than to minirhize his place and authority. It 
 has to be patiently borne with, as you would bear with 
 any other infirmity of our poorer selves, and if possible 
 ' lived down.' ' As much as lieth in yon,^ so says the 
 Apostle, 'live peaceably with all men.' In proportion 
 as we pray that we may all be of one mind and of 
 one heart in the discharge of the responsibilities
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 221 
 
 connected with our great trust, we shall find the best 
 correction of anything that may savour of jealousy. 
 
 There is an ' ideal ' of a cathedral body and of 
 cathedral life, such as, though originally contemplated 
 in the constitution of a cathedral body, is certainly not 
 universally realized. Until and unless it be realized a 
 cathedral is only in part, and imperfectly carrying out 
 the intention of a cathedral, as distinct from a parish 
 church. Certainly ' the fierce light that beats upon a 
 throne ' is being turned on our cathedrals, with their 
 prominent positions as the mother church of the 
 diocese, their endowments, instrumentalities, and re- 
 sources. What is the ' ideal '? The ideal, it would 
 seem, of the Church for many ages is that she has need 
 of a twofold ministry, a pastorate, a cure of souls, and 
 schools for preaching theology, music, daily choral 
 worship, diligent preaching, lectures on divinity, 
 ministering to the poor. To sustain the spiritual 
 tone of a preacher it was originally intended that 
 there should be some amount of ministration amongst 
 the sick and dying. A cathedral was to be also 
 a college of devoted men, more or less skilled in 
 music, with their well-stocked library of sacred litera- 
 ture, going forth not only in the cathedral itself, but 
 throughout the diocese where desired, to preach Christ 
 far and wide, returning to their cloister, and, by com- 
 munion one with another, maintaining and preaching 
 ' the faith once delivered to the saints.' The charters 
 and statutes of our ancient cathedrals are all framed on 
 this ideal. The members of it were not scattered like 
 the parochial clergy, but gathered together, living 
 within touch of each other in the ' Close,' and forming 
 a sacred brotherhood whose c/evoz'r should be to see
 
 222 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 that choristers were carefully trained, the Word of God 
 duly preached, lectures in theology delivered to the 
 younger clergy specially, though open to all. The 
 cathedral was to be a strong centre. The pastoral 
 parochial clergy did not suffice to meet all the needs of 
 the Church. There was need of ' religious houses ' in 
 the land, and though the monasteries were dissolved, 
 the cathedral would represent the dissolved religious 
 houses. To carry out the idea, the days of absence of 
 the Dean or Residentiary Canon were both provided 
 and restricted. There was to be a common religious 
 life, daily service, frequent Chapters held, and inter- 
 course of families one with another within the 
 precincts. There was to be what I might call depart- 
 mental work. Freed from parochial work, the Stalls 
 were to represent some special work, and endowed to 
 enable qualified men to devote themselves entirely to 
 that work. One should be for lecturing on theology 
 by a professor of divinity ; another for a Canon, who 
 should devote his time and energy to education ; 
 another for a * Canon Missioner,' so that a cathedral 
 should be a modern ' school of the prophets.' Stalls, 
 endowed in some cases far beyond the stipends of 
 hundreds of hard-worked parish priests, were not to be 
 sinecures ; good, hard, conscientious work was to 
 justify the appointment and larger stipends of Canons 
 Residentiary. Non-residence for nine months in the 
 year cannot but affect the integrity and oneness of 
 cathedral work and cathedral life. So strongly is this 
 being felt that a Lord Chancellor, in appointing to a 
 Canonry, makes it a sine qua non that, save under very 
 exceptional circumstances, the one appointed agrees to 
 give up all parochial work. It is not conducive to real
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 223 
 
 cathedral life that some of the Canons should be non- 
 resident, keeping their statutory three months, living 
 far from the cathedral, and not, as it were, ' within call ' 
 when something occurs, when the Dean would not act 
 on his own responsibility, and wished to take counsel 
 with his brethren. The same applies to the Precentor, 
 whose important position is not really represented by a 
 deputy. 
 
 Our cathedral of Bristol is very far from being an 
 ideal cathedral. In some respects I regard it as an 
 ideal cathedral, situate in the very heart of the city, 
 with its spacious nave, its enlarged and restored choir 
 and chancel, its two chapels for special and occasional 
 services. I do not see where in these respects, as a 
 ' workable ' cathedral, lending itself to all conceivable 
 occasions, it could be improved upon. In this respect 
 it is an ideal cathedral. At the same time, I doubt if 
 there is any other cathedral which falls in some 
 respects so short of the ideal. We have no 'Close'; 
 our members are scattered abroad, disjointed. The 
 purpose still lives in name : ' College Green,' ' College 
 Street.' These remind us of a collegiate life we were 
 meant to live, and collegiate work we were meant to 
 perform. Will that ever be here ? 
 
 Listening as I do from year to year to the morning 
 preacher, one cannot but be struck with the variety of 
 teaching. I have always maintained that neither a 
 cathedral nor a parish church should represent or be 
 the exponent of a particular ' school of thought.' Let 
 a district church be this, but not a cathedral. Its 
 foundation should be laid not on narrow, but on broad 
 lines. As the mother church she should eschew all 
 ' party,' and know no shibboleths. She should no more
 
 224 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 seek to represent one party in particular than a mother 
 would expect or even wish that all her children should 
 be exactly and in every respect alike. Dull uniformity 
 is not the prevailing, unbending law of Nature. If I 
 study Nature aright, variety is consistent with, nay, is 
 essential to, unity. I think that in the matter of ritual 
 there should be but one *use.' I have always asked a 
 newly-appointed Canon kindly to conform to our *use.' 
 In such matters as eastward Celebration or the Invoca- 
 tion before the sermon, it would never do if one Canon 
 celebrated at the north end, and another adopted the 
 eastward position. It would never do if one used a 
 Collect instead of the Invocation. This is evident. 
 In details such as these I think uniformity and not 
 variety is desirable ; but there should be variety in 
 teaching so long as 'Christ and Him crucified' is the 
 message. Hence we may have, as in the Old Founda- 
 tion, great variety at the lips of some forty different 
 preachers throughout the year, differing in manner, 
 style, and subject. On the New Foundation we may 
 have for three months in succession a literary essay 
 rather than, strictly speaking, a sermon ; sermons on 
 social questions and problems ; sermons on the more 
 definite teaching suggested by the Church's seasons, 
 or from some portion of Scripture selected from the 
 ' lessons,' Epistle and Gospel. Perhaps in no one 
 way is the unity of the Church, her oneness, more 
 expressed and illustrated than in the varied preaching 
 to be heard within cathedral walls, and in the fact that, 
 especially in the great evening nave service, all schools 
 of thought are probably to be found. In all this lies, 
 not the Church's weakness, but the Church's strength, 
 as the differing hues of the prismatic beam blend in
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 225 
 
 white. It were fatal to the influence of a cathedral, it 
 were prejudicial to her spiritual force, if she sought to 
 represent but one ' party.' But it will also be an evil 
 day for our cathedrals if evangelistic preaching come to 
 be discounted ; if the conversion of souls be little aimed 
 at ; if the ' turning men from darkness unto light and 
 from the power of Satan unto God ' be so depreciated 
 that she should lay herself open to a remark made by a 
 verger of a well-known missioner, whose ministry God 
 has greatly blessed, who came on a visit to a cathedral _.. 
 city. Someone asked the verger if the missioner was "^ 
 to preach in the cathedral : 'No,' replied the verger, / 
 ' not he. He do go in for soid saving, he do. He f'p^t 
 wouldnt do here^ he woiildut' '_ 
 
 They who frequent and by preference worship in 
 our cathedrals are as other men and women ; they 
 move in the same sphere of life as do they who 
 frequent parish churches. They have much the same 
 habits of life, do much the same things, are not an 
 eclectic set of people. There is not one kind of 
 preaching for them, another for an ordinary parishioner ; 
 there is not a 'cathedral sermon' and a 'parish church 
 sermon.' I have heard a Canon say : ' I find it rather 
 difficult to preach to the people who come to the 
 cathedral.' 
 
 If you invite a ' strange preacher,' and no longer 
 draw the line between cathedral and parochial clergy 
 by requiring of the latter that they should wear a 
 black gown, one invited somehow fancies there must 
 be some very special effort, a very special preparation, 
 for a cathedral pulpit. But why should this be so ? 
 They who come to our cathedrals have souls to be 
 saved as other men. Do they not need awakening, 
 
 15
 
 226 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 conviction of sin, repentance towards God, and faith 
 in our Lord Jesus Christ ? Some need a true con- 
 version ; some what may bring their erring feet 
 back into the fold ; some have forgotten their first 
 love ; some are ' neither hot nor cold,' but lukewarm, 
 apathetic, dilatory ; some are what Rowland Hill 
 called ' Rocking-horse Christians ' — i.e., they go back- 
 wards and forwards, but make no progress in the 
 Christian life ; some are ' sick and some are sad.' 
 There are darkened lives and careworn hearts in 
 cathedrals as elsewhere. Some are ' faint yet pur- 
 suing ' ; they need building up in ' their most holy 
 faith.' Is it because this is forgotten by preachers, or 
 thought to be outside the province of a cathedral 
 pulpit, that the smaller cathedral cities are so ' dead 
 alive,' that the service in a cathedral often lacks life, 
 that a peculiar deadening influence seems to prevail ? 
 Has the daily service, with its necessity and rigidity, 
 anything to do with the drowsiness which seems to 
 steal over a cathedral city ? Is it because everything 
 is sacrificed to the musical service, and the pulpit, with 
 its opportunities, must on no account be occupied for 
 more than a few and carefully-timed minutes .'* The 
 long-drawn-out ' service ' must not be shortened ; the 
 anthem, however long, must not be tampered with, 
 and the preacher fin^s he has, in comparison, but little 
 time for exhortation. If preaching be one of the chief 
 functions of a Canon-in-Residence,* if it was the hope 
 and prayerful purpose of the single-hearted Cranmer 
 that the cathedrals of the Reformed Church should 
 fulfil this function, it must with sorrow be admitted 
 that it is only in part realized. Diligent preaching is 
 * Professor Blunt's 'Reformation in England.'
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 227 
 
 without doubt, and notwithstanding- a growing under- 
 valuing of sermons, a very important part of cathedral 
 work : ' Ut sanctum Christi Evangelium assidue et 
 pure per doctos et graves viros praedicari possit.' If 
 a cathedral service be supposed and expected to be 
 something special, of a particular brand, or in some way 
 or other superexcellent, it is not because the congre- 
 gation is of a particular brand, order, or superexcellent, 
 but because, and not wrongly, the hearers presume 
 that the preacher has more leisure than the parochial 
 clergy for study and preparation. If the opportunity 
 be great, all the more need that our people should be 
 able to turn what they hear into some prayer, that 
 hearts should be reached through intellect, and all that 
 is best in us be brought to the surface by faithful, 
 incisive, earnest appeal to conscience. Can we truth- 
 fully say that every sermon preached in cathedrals 
 suggests some prayer before we leave ? If not ' sent 
 empty away,' yet they go, do hear, mark, learn, and 
 inwardly digest, that by patience and comfort of God's 
 Holy Word, read or preached, our people embrace 
 and ever hold the blessed hope of everlasting life 
 given us by our Saviour Jesus Christ. May I not 
 again quote George Herbert? 
 
 ' Resort to preaching, but to prayer most : 
 Prayer is the end of preaching.' 
 
 From considering the relation of a Dean to the 
 Residentiary Canons, one is naturally led to consider 
 his relations to others intimately associated with a 
 cathedral and cathedral life, all and each of whom 
 have their recognised positions, privileges, and rights 
 to be safeguarded and respected. I have in view the 
 
 15—2
 
 228 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Precentor, Minor Canons, organist, lay clerks, and 
 even choir-boys. I will take these in detail. 
 
 The principal feature of a cathedral is the main- 
 tenance of a daily service on a grand scale. That a 
 cathedral should be a school of music, theoretically 
 and practically, is part of the raison detre of its 
 existence. 'We have to thank,' writes the late 
 Harvey Goodwin, some time Dean of Ely, ' the 
 cathedral for much of the tradition concerning the 
 use of the Church of England with respect to daily 
 service. The cathedral service has shown great 
 power of vitality.' To some the daily service is thought 
 in some mysterious manner to induce what St. Paul de- 
 scribes as ' the spirit of slumber ' ; that it is soporific 
 in its tendencies ; that ' Protestant worship rattles in 
 our cathedrals like dry bones in a coffin.' I do not 
 say it may not have, and yet not necessarily, this 
 effect or tendency. The frequency of this service, 
 twice daily, does not necessarily mean devotion. 
 Many years ago, not under the present regime, I sat 
 in one of the stalls in St. Paul's Cathedral immediately 
 behind the choir-men. J distinctly heard two of 
 them setting their conversation, not the Psalms, to 
 the chant they were singing. We all know how 
 watchful we have to be ourselves against what is bred 
 of monotony. We are all painfully aware of want at 
 times of reverence and of habits which are expressive 
 of it, of * the tricks ' which seem to be a sort of tradition 
 and in the blood of song-men. The same, however, 
 may be said of worshippers as well as of those who 
 lead the worship in cathedral or parish church. We 
 can thank God that, while there is still room for what 
 has been called the ' largest room in the world,' the
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 229 
 
 room for improvement, a great change for the better 
 has come over cathedral service and worship. If 
 there remains anything faulty or defective in cathedral 
 service, it is not on that ground to be condemned, but 
 rather corrected. 
 
 It is part and parcel of the purpose of a cathedral 
 that it should set forth and maintain, at considerable 
 expenditure of musical talent and money, a high 
 standard of musical rendering of Divine service, not to 
 be feebly imitated in every parish church, and certainly 
 not, with the slender resources both of musical talent 
 and £ s. d., in village churches. But in the mother 
 church of the diocese the best, the very best, of 
 composition, and skill, and voice should find its home 
 and expression. Matins'" and Evensong should be the 
 occasion for the best services composed by musicians 
 of past and present repute. To my mind the service 
 should never be less good. It should be always good, 
 evidencing uniform painstaking. We want the very 
 best anthems, A. and M. We ought to have the very 
 best setting for a choral celebration. We should have 
 from time to time what our cathedrals specially lend 
 themselves to, oratorios and the masterpieces of our 
 great composers, one advantage being that there can 
 be no interruption of applause of particular vocalists, 
 and no clamour for encores. Our late eminent archi- 
 tect, Mr. Pearson, was considered expensive, but then, 
 as he said to me : * I am of opinion that everything 
 that is best should be consecrated to God's service.' 
 
 * I do not know whether to write 'Matins' or 'Mattins' — both are 
 used. A verger of a northern parish said one day to my wife : 
 ' You will be pleased, ma'am, to know that since you were here last 
 we have " Muttons'' every morning now.'
 
 230 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 If, therefore, a cathedral — whether many attend or few 
 — and the cathedral body represent the ' two or three 
 gathered together ' with the promise which anticipated 
 small gatherings — if a cathedral is, inter alia, to be a 
 school of music, there, if anywhere, so far as concerns 
 Divine worship, it should represent and voice a 
 standard of consecrated music and of musical rendering 
 of it. The grand historic pile is a symbol of worship 
 on a large scale. Every circumstance of devotion, 
 beauty, and artistic skill should be carried on there by 
 those who are associated with it, and give all their life, 
 <>ifts, and power to this great and holy work. 
 
 This being so, we look to the Precentor, with whom 
 rests, though I do not think it should do so absolutely, 
 the selection of the music. It is not his business to 
 direct the organist how to play, but what to play. In 
 some cathedrals the Precentor's selection of music is not 
 without some supervision. At Chichester the 'scheme' 
 is submitted to the Dean and Canon-in-Residence, 
 before finally put into the organist's hands. I know 
 we had at Chichester the power to erase, but I do not 
 think we had the power to put down something in the 
 place of what we erased. There are occasions when I 
 think the Dean — certainly if he has had experience of 
 Church choirs — should be free to suggest and even 
 request that certain suitable hymns should be selected. 
 My experience is that Precentors may have a consider- 
 able knowledge of cathedral music under the heads 
 elsewhere mentioned, but, as not having had parochial 
 charges, they know very little of hymnology. Some 
 Deans know something of hymnology. We have 
 devoted considerable attention to it. We have read 
 papers on it at Church congresses, and from experience
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 231 
 
 we know better than comparatively younger men can 
 know in what the congregation can and cannot join. 
 Let the Precentor select ' services ' and anthems, which 
 are not in the true sense congregational ; but we are 
 not always secure against a ' corkscrew ' tune, which, 
 however good it may be musically, is not within the 
 compass of an ordinary congregation. With the 
 Precentor rests undoubtedly the selection of the music 
 for ' statutory,' but not for * ?;(772-statutory,' services, 
 special services, parade services, bands of hope, or any 
 one of many extra services. Here, again, he cannot, 
 if he be of a wise and conciliatory spirit, always and 
 invariably stand upon his rights, etc. He does well if 
 he take counsel with the organist, who, as a professional 
 musician, and selected for so high a trust as that of a 
 cathedral organist, has, with very rare exceptions, a 
 much larger and more scientific acquaintance with 
 music. Precentor and organist should amicably ' put 
 their heads together,' and mutually consult and agree 
 about the ' scheme.' A Precentor should not only have 
 a good voice, but he should himself have such a know- 
 ledge of music that a lay clerk should never doubt it. 
 If he saw his way to taking a Mus. Bac, it would 
 greatly strengthen his influence and authority, in the 
 same sense in which an organist who is a Mus. Doc. 
 has greater weight and influence. In his relations to 
 the Minor Canons — of which he isprimtts inter pares, 
 while firm in the exercise of his authority, he should 
 remember an old saying : ' Manners are something 
 with everyone, and everything with some.' You can, 
 in the long-run, get what you wish and maintain what 
 you have to maintain less by assertion of authority than 
 by courtesy and a conciliatory spirit. As having also
 
 232 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 the supposed authority over the choir-boys, he would 
 do well to win their affection by associating himself with 
 them outside as well as within cathedral walls, letting 
 them feel he is less Precentor than amicus. 
 
 To my mind, a Precentor ought to be more constant 
 in his attendance at the cathedral than the rest of the 
 Minor Canons. He receives a higher stipend and has 
 larger responsibility. How very careful he should be 
 in drawing up his 'scheme,' and in revising it before it 
 is irrevocably printed ! It is ludicrous to see in print 
 the confusion caused by want of punctuation in the case 
 of secular songs — e.g., ' The cry of the feeble Bacon. 
 When your hair was Dank. Sent to Heaven by Duggan. 
 Who knows Jackson. Away, my lyre Bennett. The 
 name of my life is Abt. O'er the bounding Gibbons. 
 O ! never call thy heart Rossi. I would not be 
 Thirlwall. O ! chide me not for loving Marriott.' 
 These are do7id fide specimens of what appeared in 
 print. Bristol Cathedral is credited with the following: 
 ' Thy mercy Ouseley. If we believe Goss. Lord, for 
 Thy tender Farrant. Rejoice in the Lord Humphrey. 
 Great and marvellous Monk. Lift up your heads 
 Gibbons. Blessed be Thou 'Kent. Holy, Holy, Holy 
 Crotch. I will lift up C. Whitfield. This is the day 
 Green.' The names of the composers might with 
 advantage have been left out. Ludicrous annotations 
 may occur, from which a sense of humour might have 
 saved the annotator. On Colston Day it is de rigueur 
 that we have at the state service Handel's rather 
 long anthem, 'When the Eye saw Him,' etc. It con- 
 cludes with, ' His body is buried in peace! In arranging 
 the books for the service, one of the Minor Canons 
 discovered that a part for tenor and alto was missing.
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 233 
 
 Under the words * his body is buried in peace,' he 
 wrote, ' two parts missing! A Precentor is continually 
 receiving compositions from different musicians in the 
 hope that they may be sung in the cathedral. Our 
 Precentor received a letter from a distinguished 
 musician, who shall be nameless, to the effect that, 
 as there had recently been an eclipse, he had composed 
 a suitable anthem. It seemed to me that there was 
 practically no limit to ' suitable occasions.' We had 
 recently been visited by a comet ; why not compose an 
 anthem on a comet's tail } Not long ago a meteoric 
 stone fell in our neighbourhood. Would that suggest 
 a suitable anthem ? What might not Sir Robert Ball 
 suggest ? I received a letter from one who wrote : 
 ' My husband has composed a really beautiful anthem, 
 and I can assure you, Mr. Dean, it is not on celestial 
 phenomena.' This was in consequence of what I 
 said, as President of the Guild of Church Musicians, 
 at our Annual Dinner at the Holborn Restaurant. 
 So the reader will see that a Precentor must not only 
 have a good knowledge of music, a good voice, etc., 
 but must know what to smile upon and what to 
 ' decline, with many thanks.' 
 
 Apropos of the ' scheme,' I may mention a remark- 
 able and amusing coincidence. A recent organist at 
 our cathedral appealed to the ' Visitor ' against an 
 'order' of the Dean and Chapter. He engaged the 
 present Lord Chief Justice, Lord Alverstone, at that 
 time Sir Richard Webster, whom I am privileged to 
 count amongst my friends. Our acquaintance began 
 when he was one of the choir at Holy Trinity, 
 Paddington, where I conducted the mission. As Sir 
 Richard was ' counsel for plaintiff, ' it was not etiquette
 
 234 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 that he should robe in our vestry. He robed in the 
 lay clerk's vestry. One of our lay clerks had heard 
 that Sir Richard's fee for the first day was £2>^o, not 
 to speak of a ' refresher.' He showed the ' scheme ' to 
 Sir Richard, and said : 'Is it not curious, sir, that the 
 anthem for to-day is, " How dear are Thy co7uisels " 1 
 Not a little 'dirty linen ' was washed in public on the 
 first day, into which I need not enter. On the follow- 
 ing day Sir Richard looked at the scheme, and remarked 
 to the lay clerk : ' I notice that the anthem for to-day 
 is, " Oh ! luhere shall wisdom be found ?''' — that is what 
 you all seem to want.' 
 
 Such a coincidence could hardly happen twice. And 
 apropos of coincidences, two lately occurred which it 
 would be difficult to repeat. Our cathedral is lighted, 
 and very successfully, with the electric light. I believe 
 that Bristol Cathedral was the first to adopt this 
 system of lighting. Our organ is also blown by 
 electricity. At daily Evensong we generally, for 
 economy's sake, confine the light to the choir. Some- 
 thing went wrong with it; there was not absolute dark- 
 ness, but there was a faint glow of light. It happened 
 exactly at the moment I was reading the second 
 lesson, in which was the verse : ' The light shineth in 
 darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it not ' 
 (John i. 5). A curiqus coincidence happened at a 
 church in Bournemouth. The church was, of a sudden, 
 enveloped in total darkness. As soon as things were 
 set right and ' the darkness was past,' the hymn, as set 
 down, was given out : ' Hail ! gladdening light !' 
 (A. and M. 18). I have heard — I do not know how 
 far it is true — that W. G. Grace made an indifferent 
 score in some county match. He attended church on
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 235 
 
 the following Sunday, and in one of the hymns the 
 words occurred : ' The scanty triumphs Grace hath 
 won.' The other coincidence was very, very trying to 
 me. I was reading the first lesson. Numbers x., 
 verse 4, runs : ' And if they blow with one trumpet.' 
 At this juncture someone in the cathedral, I am 
 certain unintentionally, blew an awful blast with his 
 nose. It sounded all through the cathedral. Some 
 people cough and sneeze very loudly ; some blow 
 their noses with trumpet blast. If the gentleman in 
 question had gone on blasting with his nasal trumpet, 
 I think I should have said abruptly, ' Here endeth 
 the first lesson,' as a choir-boy did when he saw his 
 Vicar's first attempts at cycling and his coming to grief. 
 Of Minor Canons or Vicars Choral it must be 
 remembered that they also have their well-defined 
 status, duties to be safeguarded on their part, and 
 respected by the Dean and Canon-in- Residence on their 
 part. My experience, happy concerning them, is that 
 they are invariably ready to assist at ' non-statutory ' 
 services — e.g., an early Celebration and occasional 
 services, always provided that they be invited to do so. 
 Though such assistance may naturally be looked for at 
 their hands, it is not statutory, and not in any sense 
 compulsory. They are not curates. No little mur- 
 muring on their part, no little irritation, is occasioned 
 by regarding a Minor Canon as a curate. I think 
 that, if they have time to spare, that time should be 
 given to the cathedral rather than elsewhere, but it 
 cannot be enforced nor required of them. It is best to 
 leave them to themselves in arranging for weeks of 
 duty, holidays, etc., so long as such arrangements 
 insure what statutory services require of them. They
 
 2-.6 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 ■0 
 
 should be allowed to assist — not as licensed curates — 
 in parochial work, not only because of some possible 
 pecuniary augmentation of their stipend, but because a 
 Minor Canon — pm Minor Canon — is not making ' full 
 proof of his ministry.' He should be relieved of what 
 many Minor Canons feel, the monotony of daily services, 
 by the exercise of the ministry in visiting sick and 
 poor, and by occasionally preaching. In Bristol 
 Cathedral no provision is made by statute for a Minor 
 Canon preaching. A Minor Canon could even refuse 
 to do so if a Dean required it of him. On one 
 memorable occasion — not in my time — they did pro- 
 test, not because they did not value the opportunity, 
 but because, regardless of statute, a Residentiary 
 Canon required it of them. Here is yet another 
 opportunity of cultivating the most friendly and 
 courteous relations with Minor Canons, and in many 
 ways — too trifling, perhaps, to mention — helping them 
 to realize ' holy fellowship.' I have no other but grateful 
 thoughts of help rendered by Minor Canons. 
 
 I come now to consider not so much the musical 
 qualifications of the organist as certain general con- 
 siderations. The former are assumed by his selection 
 out of many candidates, by his testimonials, and 
 by the opinion of experts who * put him through 
 his paces.' Everyone who has had experience of a 
 parish church or cathedral knows how bewildering it 
 is to come to a decision where many of equal reputa- 
 tion and talent apply, and, as is the case sometimes of 
 equally good Minor Canons, you would like to secure 
 them all ! Of course, when the coveted post of a 
 cathedral organist is vacant, you are inundated with 
 applications, from one who can play on small har-
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 237 
 
 moniums up to the man who has already a fine organ 
 and good choir elsewhere. We do not want a tyro 
 to gain experience in our cathedral ; we want one 
 who comes with considerable experience. I find 
 myself becoming more and more cautious than I used 
 to be. I know how far a word of encouragement goes. 
 Often where a service has been carefully rendered, and 
 there is evidence of much painstaking in a church in 
 which I have been preaching, I have complimented 
 organist and choir after service, and have spoken the 
 word of commendation. A vacancy occurs, say, in 
 the cathedral. I at once receive letters to much the 
 same effect : * Dear sir, I am applying for your 
 vacancy. You will doubtless remember, on the occa- 
 sion of your preaching in our church, that you praised 
 our service,' etc. A word of commendation, which 
 goes a long way, and which organist and song-men 
 appreciate, does not necessarily imply that the organist 
 is qualified for the same position in a cathedral. You 
 cannot be entirely guided by testimonials. Who, in 
 writing a 'testimonial,' would 'black-ball' his friend.'^ 
 Here is an application on the part of a father for his 
 son's appointment as organist to our cathedral. I do 
 not know whether to admire most the father's 
 opinion of his son or the son's rare and special qualifi- 
 cations : 
 
 ' I know something of the kind of man you want in 
 Bristol Cathedral, so I will put the following questions 
 to you : If you want a good organist, that is a good 
 player and good accompanist, I may say my son is 
 both. If you want a man who can train cathedral boys' 
 voices, he can do that also. If you want a man, a 
 gentleman, loved by all he has anything to do with or
 
 2c;8 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 ■0 
 
 work with, my son is one of that kind. In fact, if you 
 want a good all-round (!) musician and a thorough 
 Churchman, he, I am sure, will not disappoint you. 
 But if you want a musical crank, with A, B, D, E, F, G, 
 or half the alphabet, after his name, then my son is not 
 in it. Give him three, six, or twelve months' trial, and 
 if he does not suit you send him back upon his 
 business. This is as it ought to be in all cathedrals, 
 to my way of thinking. Apologizing for trowbling you 
 so much,' etc. 
 
 My trouble is thinking what were we all about 
 that we have not given at least twelve months' trial, 
 or even more, to one in every respect so admirably 
 qualified ? 
 
 Even the ' exercises ' given by an expert to be 
 performed in an empty cathedral are not as satisfactory 
 as that the applicant should take a service throughout 
 on Sunday. I wonder if applicants consider it quite 
 fair that a ' trap ' should be set } I remember at a 
 competition for our vacancy at Halifax, when our 
 excellent organist, Dr. Roberts, was appointed to 
 Magdalen College, Oxford, that Sir Frederick Ouseley 
 set a trap. In a figured bass he put a ' sharp,' which 
 ought not to have been there, to see if the candidate, 
 playing at sight, would play the correct chord. Was 
 this fair or not ? Sir F. Ouseley defended to me what 
 he had done by way of a test. Of one thing I am 
 satisfied, that too great pains cannot be taken in the 
 selection of an organist, not only as to his musical 
 qualifications, but as to his personal character ; how far 
 he is conciliatory, and likely to ' get on with the 
 authorities' and the choir. Few consider how abso- 
 lutely you are at the mercy of an organist. With the
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 239 
 
 exception of the lessons and sermons, all the service is 
 musically rendered. Up in that loft, not always easy 
 of access unless you establish telephonic communica- 
 tion, he, as it were, presides over the service. He, as 
 well as a Precentor, should be free from fads and 
 eccentricities. He ought to be good-tempered and 
 considerate. When I am asked why musicians quarrel, 
 my reply is that, theoretically, discord is essential to 
 harmony. That is the redeeming feature. He ought 
 not to take advantage of his position, and in accompany- 
 ing show his dislike or disapprobation of what is set 
 before him, as I have known some organists do. He 
 should be careful not to ' drown ' the choir by too loud 
 accompaniment, and should eschew what are called 
 ' fireworks.' I have heard that a decision was come 
 to that ' fireworks ' should be boycotted ever since 
 an organist attempted to imitate a dog in the 
 verse, ' They grin like a dog and run about the 
 city.' He should never vent his spite against a 
 particular lay clerk, if so- be that he has quarrelled 
 with him, by so playing as to 'put him out' when he is 
 singing a solo part. Such things do happen. He 
 should not show, as I have known, his disapproval of a 
 choral celebration by such accompaniment throughout 
 that, but for discipline's sake, you would discontinue a 
 choral celebration. He should not be impatient and 
 even insolent towards those whose servant he is. He 
 should not be constantly composing, and forcing his 
 compositions on a congregation with all the eclat of a 
 good choir to render it well. He should be devout as 
 well as skilful, a communicant as well as organist, and 
 all throughout mindful how it is in his power to render 
 the service beautiful or otherwise.
 
 240 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 For a large part of my life I have had to do with 
 organists — e.g., the brothers Binfield in Paris ; Joseph 
 Goss and Mr. White at St. Philip's ; Jeremiah Rogers 
 at Doncaster ; Dr. Roberts, Mr. Liddle, and Mr. 
 Garland at Halifax ; Dr. Reed at Chichester ; Mr. 
 Riseley, Dr. Buck, and our present organist, Mr. Hunt. 
 It were invidious to do more than name these, each 
 and all skilled musicians, but I could wish nothing 
 better in any cathedral than our present organist, 
 Mr. Hunt, who seems to me to fulfil all the con- 
 ditions above-named. Oh, how restful it is to feel all 
 throughout Divine service the utmost confidence in 
 the presiding organist, and that his one desire and 
 aim is not self-glorification, but the glory of God, 
 to which all else, talent, skill, and accompaniment, 
 should be subordinate ! Organists were once very 
 angry with me because I said : ' I should like 
 to conduct a mission for organists.' Why should 
 they have been angry ? One wrote to me and 
 said : ' Reading your remark about a mission for 
 organists, nothing would induce me to be organist 
 in your church.' All I meant was I should like them 
 to be brought under the special influence of what 
 has proved of such blessing to thousands, if, per- 
 chance, inspired of the Holy Ghost, they truly 
 consecrated their talent. I have known an organist, 
 after some earnest address, the people remaining on 
 their knees in silent prayer, startle them off their 
 knees with an utterly inappropriate ' concluding 
 voluntary.' I have known, as when conducting the 
 mission in Daniel Moore's time at Holy Trinity, 
 Paddington, an organist who keyed his voluntary 
 to the subject of my address, and softly played * O
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 241 
 
 rest in the Lord,' or some familiar air in keeping with 
 the occasion. This was as helpful as the other was 
 bewildering. I sometimes wish that the following verse 
 could be placed conspicuously over the keyboard of 
 our organs, as the devout aspiration of the organist : 
 
 ' If well I know the' tuneful art 
 To captivate the human heart, 
 
 The glory. Lord, be Thine. 
 A servant of Thy blessed will, 
 I here devote my utmost skill 
 
 To sound the praise divine.' 
 
 From Organists I pass on to Lay Clerks, varying in 
 number, from St. Paul's Cathedral, where I have 
 been told ^7,000 a year is spent one way and another 
 on the music, down to the cathedrals which cannot 
 afford to have more than six or nine lay clerks. 
 There is as great a desire to be a lay clerk as there is 
 to be an organist in a cathedral. It gives a man at 
 once a local status, and brings with it possibilities of 
 engagements outside the cathedral. Lay clerks are 
 rightly looked upon as ' picked voices'; they often form 
 amongst themselves a brotherhood for singing glees 
 and madrigals at public entertainments or at ' at 
 homes.' But here, if anywhere, the utmost care 
 should be exercised in their selection and appointment, 
 not only for their musical qualifications, which are 
 tested, but for their moral character. A private 
 inquiry is worth a bushel of testimonials. On them 
 the daily services press the most heavily. The Dean 
 or Canon-in- Residence may be frequently absent, and 
 without question. Personally, I do not think it is pos- 
 sible for the Dean to be present at every service if he 
 live in a large city. I am not sure that by statute it is 
 
 16
 
 242 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 required of him. There are, I have heard, one or two 
 Deans who never miss daily Matins and Evensong, 
 but they are exceptions. The attendance of the lay 
 clerks is absolutely necessary and the most con- 
 tinuous. Their office is laborious and technical, and, 
 generally speaking, they are drawn from a class 
 whose education does not give them the advantage of 
 appreciating the value of the work in which they are 
 engaged equal to that possessed by the clergy of the 
 cathedral. The excellence of their voice is too often 
 the first requisite, yet many would sometimes prefer a 
 less good voice and a lay clerk who is more reverent and 
 devout. 
 
 The lay clerk side of our cathedral system has been 
 considered the weak side in times past ; it cannot 
 truthfully be said that it is not fraught with difficulties 
 and problems yet unsolved in our own day. You 
 take a man whose bringing up, perhaps whose daily 
 environment, is not the most favourable to personal 
 piety, and you suddenly import that life and personality 
 into the duties and atmosphere of cathedral life. Such 
 a new setting does not create a new man ; he has to 
 accommodate himself to the unaccustomed. I fully 
 allow that there are many lay clerks who appreciate 
 being ' counted worthy ' to consecrate their talent to 
 the service of God, and that there are those who take a 
 deep interest in their duty ; but while we take every 
 pains to satisfy ourselves as to the previous past of 
 every applicant, we must make large allowance for 
 them. If with even the most devout frequent ser- 
 vices may become perfunctory, if the Dean, Canons, 
 or Minor Canons may, if not watchful, become listless 
 or indevout, must we be surprised if lay clerks become
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 243 
 
 so ? I have known the case of a Minor Canon falling 
 into a serious condition of depression ; he told me it 
 was partly due to the monotony of constantly singing 
 the service. We cannot be surprised if our lay clerks 
 fall into listless ways, irreverent postures, and careless 
 rendering of the service. For the most part, they are 
 practically precluded from the distraction of some work 
 by which they might augment their stipends and occupy 
 spare hours. If a Dean or Canon finds that Matins, 
 say, as a rule, at 10 a.m., and Evensong at 4 p.m., all 
 the year round, breaks into his day, ' cuts it up,' as it 
 were, though he has something to fall back upon 
 and to fill up the intervals, what must it be for some 
 lay clerks, whom few will employ unless they command 
 their whole time ? Such are at a loss to know what 
 to do for want of occupation. Some lay clerks have 
 a business already. Some are teachers of music ; 
 some employ their time in pianoforte-tuning ; but a 
 great many come to us as strangers, sore handicapped 
 in the ' struggle for existence,' to find that they with 
 difficulty eke out a livelihood on their stipend, and 
 that nothing is open to them in the cathedral city. 
 Our lay clerks, though they come knowing to what 
 they come, leaving no stone unturned to get the 
 appointment, often make all this a ground of com- 
 plaint, and naturally they are always on the look-out 
 for * something better.' It is a great difficulty, espe- 
 cially in cases where no provision is made for them of 
 a permanent nature, and where there is no pension, 
 perhaps not even a ' bonus,' on leaving. 
 
 Not a few ' suggestions ' have been made, more or 
 less impracticable. One is that they should be 
 admitted as lay readers, and that their work outside 
 
 16 — 2
 
 244 ODDS AXD ENDS 
 
 the cathedral should be in intimate connection with 
 their work inside it. There are obvious objections to 
 this. Our prime consideration, if cathedrals are to set 
 a hio-h standard of musical services, is that our lay 
 clerks should be men of musical gifts and skill, and, 
 apart from the constant use of the voice as a lay reader, 
 a cathedral is not intended to supply an unordained 
 ministr}- for the diocese. We ought to be able to 
 secure godly men without possibly imperilling the lay 
 clerk's first and immediate duty. At the same time, I 
 ver)- strongly feel that we should do our best to assist 
 our lay clerks in finding some employment, to save them 
 from a desultor}" life, and from all that comes from 
 ' having nothing to do.' It is an old stor)- : * Satan 
 finds mischief for idle hands to do. Even.- Dean 
 knows too well, and without telling tales, to what lay 
 clerks are not only exposed, but what also makes it 
 necessar}" for the discipline and 7?wrale of a cathedral 
 that their ser\"ices should be no longer required. 
 
 The ' ideal.' of course, is that ever)" lay clerk should 
 be a communicant, not only for his own spiritual life's 
 sake, but for example's sake. But even," worshipper is 
 not a communicant. I doubt that, however desirable 
 that even," lav clerk be a communicant, it were wise to 
 make this a sine qua fW)i. I grant that it is not what 
 you would wish, that it cannot fail to attract surprised 
 attention, that on the occasion of a choj'al Co??2??iunion 
 all the lay clerks do not communicate. Personally, I 
 would rather it were so than that anyone should come 
 because he is a lav clerk, and not because he is seekingr 
 some spiritual blessing. I would rather have the 
 realit}- of a non-communicating lay clerk than the 
 approaching ' unworthily ' of one on whom Dean and
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 245 
 
 Chapter have imposed an unwelcome condition. On 
 the other hand, I admire and respect those, even be 
 they three or four. who. true to and having the courage 
 of their convictions, communicate in full view of those 
 who remain in their stalls. This ' witnessing,' as every 
 communicant does witness, may do more in the direc- 
 tion of rebuke or suggestion than any enforced require- 
 ments would do. 
 
 The question of behaviour during Divine service is 
 as difficult as it is serious. A Dean or Canon cannot 
 be a spiritual policeman. If he is to set an example of 
 devotion and reverence, he cannot be watching lay 
 clerks and choir-boys throughout Divine service. 
 Divine service must not degenerate into a system of 
 espionage : it is fatal to personal devotion ; and yet 
 who that has had experience does not deeply feel how 
 we have to encourage, and I will even say insist, on 
 reverent behaviour, posture, ways. There are certain 
 ' tricks,' as I call them, which seem to be in the blood 
 of choir-men and choristers, "not in cathedrals only, but 
 in our parish churches. If Jubal was the father of all 
 who handle the harp and the organ, I wonder if he is 
 responsible for inventing and initiating these tricks ? 
 Are there not certain tricks which seem to ' run in the 
 blood.' Servants, e.£:, do much the same sort of thing. 
 They wreak their vengeance on certain protuberances, 
 attributing the 'accident' to the 'scape-cat,' on whose 
 devoted head they lay all breakages, taking comfort in 
 the proverbial saying that ' accidents will happen in the 
 best regulated families' — e.£:, the chipping of the spout 
 of a china tea-pot, the summary disposal of a small 
 knob on a lid, the amputation of the handle from cup 
 or jug. Years ago I bought a large glass jug for use
 
 246 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 in the vestry at St. Philip's. Within a day or two the 
 handle disappeared. I called together the ' pew 
 openers,' and begged of them not to say a cat was 
 guilty — cats do not do these things. I did not ask who 
 was ' guilty '; I only said I was not going to buy 
 another. Though years have elapsed, I have every 
 reason to believe that that jug is there to this day. It 
 fulfils the end for which I purchased it — i.e.y to hold 
 water. Lay clerks have tricks, not to speak of 
 whispering and unnecessary communication with each 
 other ; there are sadly listless attitudes ; singing with 
 folded arms ; not kneeling when they ought to kneel ; 
 not bowing the head when they should bow it ; not 
 reciting the Creed ; looking over music during the 
 reading of the lessons, studying the anthem when 
 presumably joining in prayer, and divers sundry and 
 other ' tricks.' I could sometimes wish that a sine qua 
 non should be that a lay clerk should not wear a 
 moustache, or at least that he dispense with it on 
 Sundays ! All who are thus decorated do not offend in 
 this particular, but exercise self-restraint ; but oh ! 
 what an instrument of unrighteousness a moustache is 
 in some cases ! How it lends itself to ' twiddling ' and 
 perpetually feeling if it is there ! Such details as these 
 may appear insignificant, not worth being noticed, but 
 I sometimes think if a ' snapshot ' could be taken 
 of a choir during DiVine service it would show, when 
 'developed,' that they are by no means insignificant 
 details and such as might be discontinued. 
 
 In the case of any grievous scandal, happily rare, 
 there is but one thing — dismissal ; but in lesser offences, 
 such as want of reverence, it does not do to find fault 
 or expostulate with the offender before all the rest.
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 247 
 
 Far better invite him to come and see you, and 
 then, in your study, ask him kindly to do his best to 
 encourage reverence, and to discontinue on his part 
 anything that is objectionable. Before you treat a 
 lay clerk as not amenable to kindly remonstrance, as a 
 heathen man and a publican, better far go and see him, 
 or let him come and see you. Treat him, in your 
 relation with him, not as a child, but as a man. ' Tell 
 him his faults between him and thee,' and in the 
 great m^ajority of cases the result will be ' that thou 
 hast gained thy brother.' Do not be too severe or 
 requiring. Take things sometimes good-hum,ouredly, 
 or as if they had not been said. I once had occasion 
 to insist on a lay clerk taking the solo part in an 
 anthem in the absence of the one to whom it was 
 assigned. This was a matter of discipline. He sung 
 it well, did not ' sulk,' but sang it as if it was his 'turn.' 
 After service, the choir having heard me express my 
 wish, I thought I would in their presence compliment 
 him on his singing. Addressing him, I said : ' You 
 sang that solo very well; thank you.' 'And pray,' 
 said he, ' Mr. Dean, why shouldn't I ?' 
 
 I do not wish to identify the lay clerk, but on my tell- 
 ing this to one of our Canons he capped it by saying 
 that it reminded him of a man meeting his friend and 
 saying to him, ' And how is your wife ?' Pulling himself 
 together, glaring fiercely at him, and with considerable 
 vehemence, he replied : ' If it comes to that, sir, pray 
 how is yours 7 
 
 One story suggests another illustrative of quick 
 repartee. A gentleman, accosting my sister's partner 
 at a ball, said : ' I beg your pardon, are you the waiter ?' 
 to which he replied : ' I beg your pardon, are you ?'
 
 248 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 I recently heard of a lady who lost her temper with 
 a gentleman with whom she was travelling. He 
 persisted in smoking. It was a smoking-carriage. 
 At last she screamed : ' If you were my husband I 
 would poison you !' To which he replied : * Madam, 
 if you were my wife I would gladly take the poison.' 
 
 It does not do to wash dirty linen in public. There 
 is nothing gained by telling on house-tops all that 
 comes to your knowledge. Scandals are, as I have 
 already said, happily rare. I have, of course, known 
 some. As a body, I should say our lay clerks are men 
 who conscientiously do their appointed work. In the 
 majority of cases they are well known in the city, 
 respected by those who know them best, and are in 
 every way deserving of it. Black sheep are found in 
 all communities. If we are aware of jealousies, and 
 the necessity of avoiding the occasion of them, of 
 squabbles or outbursts of temper, who is altogether 
 free from the corrosive poison ? Medical men are 
 very jealous. We all know that clergy are very jealous. 
 In them jealousy is worse. Lay clerks may at times 
 be irreverent, but what are we to say of those who are 
 always watching, not only tbem, but who, from their 
 stalls or seats, survey the congregation, and come home 
 to tell what and whom they saw } The late Max O'Rell 
 told us, in a lecture, of someone who was deploring the 
 desecration of Sunday 'on the Continent. He failed to 
 notice how the churches were thronged for early Mass 
 or morning service, and enlarged on what went on on 
 Sunday evenings. ' Where were you on that Sunday 
 evening ?' was the natural question. 
 
 So it is that the very people who complain of the 
 irreverence of lay clerks or choir-boys are they who
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 249 
 
 occupy themselves with watching what they would not 
 see were they themselves more devout. ' Where were 
 you during Divine service ?' might be asked of them. 
 Order is Heaven's first law. There must be order, 
 there must be discipline ; but we must remember we 
 are not angels that sin not, and you may win by kind- 
 ness where you fail by fault-finding. We should in 
 every way cultivate friendly relations with our lay 
 clerks. ' We can visit them when they or their belong- 
 ings are in sorrow, need, sickness, or any other adver- 
 sity.' We can ask them in for a cup of tea and a 
 friendly chat. We can go so far as not to despise their 
 counsel when a candidate is being put through his 
 paces. We can join them in a pleasant outing on a 
 summer's day. We can invite them, on the footing 
 not of lay clerks, but of friends, to an annual dinner, 
 where we discover how much talent exists in our choir, 
 as vocalists or instrumentalists. We can in many ways 
 help them to realize a ' holy fellowship,' and make them 
 feel we are, from a cathedral point of view, members 
 of one body. I trust more to this than I do to lectur- 
 ing, fault-finding, hectoring, I trust more to general 
 consideration for one another's faults and kindly sym- 
 pathy than to what often estranges and embitters for 
 bringing about that ejitente cordiale, which a school- 
 boy rendered into English, with a very free translation, 
 ' an entire cordial.' 
 
 From the consideration of the lay clerks one 
 naturally thinks of our choir-boys, who in their way 
 and degree are as essential to the life of a cathedral and 
 to the efficiency of its services as Precentor, organist, 
 and lay clerks. Vested in surplice and cassock, parents 
 are proud to have a son a choir-boy, and choir-boys
 
 250 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 ought to be taught ab initio how great is their privilege 
 in being thus early enlisted into the service of the 
 sanctuary. As it is, I fear in most cases they fall far 
 short of our ideal. An old apple-woman used to sit at 
 some steps facing our cathedral. It is not at all im- 
 probable that our choir-boys more than once upset her 
 basket of apples and oranges. ' Ah !' she said, * they 
 thinks you cherubinis and seraphims over there, but I 
 knows better.' It had never occurred to any of us so to 
 regard our boys. Choir-boys are proverbially trouble- 
 some. I have never yet discovered why they should be. 
 They have tricks which seem also to have come down 
 from the first chorister, illustrations of ' heredity.' One 
 great point and difficulty is to secure entire control 
 over them. They may be spoiled by making too much 
 of them. If to lads of their age an ordinary service is 
 sometimes wearisome, let us, who know too well what 
 we had to endure as children, make all allowance that 
 we can, not for 'tricks' — e.g., talking to each other 
 during Divine service, passing notes, tearing up pieces 
 of paper, surreptitiously sucking ' lollipops,' and other 
 evil doings — but for restlessness, fidgets, and, in a boy, 
 unintentional irreverence. There ought not to be the 
 difficulty there seems to be in exercising discipline and 
 to have them under control. My ideal is that our 
 choir-boys should be the sons of our poorer clergy, 
 who would come frOm homes which have already 
 habituated their minds to the service of the sanctuary, 
 and have been brought up from their childhood in the 
 atmosphere of religion. The clergy who have sons 
 who give promise of musical gifts would be freed for 
 some years from the expense of education, and it 
 would form a bond of interest and union between the
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 251 
 
 mother church and the parochial clergy. I would have 
 them lodged and boarded in a married Minor Canon's 
 house, and would thus endeavour to solve the difficulty 
 of their having too many masters, of securing good 
 meals, necessary rest and shelter during the intervals 
 between the hours of service. 
 
 Every Dean to whom I have written — and I have 
 written, I think, to all — agrees with me in this as the 
 beau idial, but it is made impossible because of the 
 expense, which must be put down at not less than 
 ^500 a year. For my part, I am unable to see why — at 
 least, in a large city — a considerable sum should not be 
 annually set apart from and charged to the weekly 
 offertory. I introduced the offertory at every service 
 on Sundays both in Chichester and Bristol Cathedral. 
 The result is a considerable addition to our ordinary 
 resources. Why should our people be any more 
 exempted from 'giving' in our cathedrals than in our 
 parish churches ? Have we not to teach that to be 
 ' ready to give and glad to distribute ' is part of 
 worship ? I am persuaded that habitual worshippers, 
 and even others, would readily contribute to what 
 would go far to carry out this ideal. Living under 
 one and the same roof, our choir-boys insure good 
 musical, physical, intellectual, and religious training — 
 four great and important requisites. As things are, 
 these four requisites cannot be secured. 
 
 A suggestion somewhat similar to that, that lay 
 clerks should be trained for lay readers, has been made 
 respecting our choristers. It is thought to be more 
 than probable that those who were intended for holy 
 orders were trained from their childhood as choristers 
 first, with a special view to their future vocation. At
 
 252 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 any rate, it Is certain that the office of a chorister was 
 held in high estimation, and their education was of a 
 high order. A good commercial education was not 
 considered sufficient. They were trained for Holy 
 Orders, and if not always that, yet for some liberal 
 profession, and their musical training bore its part in 
 promoting this good end. It certainly is not so now, 
 though if my ideal could be carried out our choir-boys 
 might eventually take Holy Orders. As it is, we have 
 recourse to the sons of tradesmen and of people in 
 comparatively humble circumstances, who do not 
 contemplate more than that their child should have 
 for a certain number of years what a cathedral school 
 in part supplies. Our cathedral schools have, through 
 the force of circumstances, long departed from their 
 original intention. It may have its advantage, but a 
 cathedral school is not without its disadvantage. In 
 the first place, the choristers are looked upon as some- 
 thing ' apart ' from the school. They are exempt, as a 
 rule, except on ' dumb days ' and holidays, from the 
 ordinary course in a public school. The time-table is 
 altered to allow of their attendance at the cathedral. 
 The headmaster is at some disadvantage, for their 
 non-attendance reduces his averao^e. Unless some 
 special arrangement be made when school is over, the 
 boys have to find shelter somewhere, to partake of 
 a meal hurriedly or uncomfortably, the distance of 
 home from school being often considerable. They are 
 exposed to inclement weather. If parents give them 
 money for a meal, they generally expend this in some 
 savoury meal such as their soul loveth — e.g., pastry, 
 indigestible sweets which do not nourish, doubtful 
 ginger-beer, etc. There is no supervision in the
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 253 
 
 intervals of leisure ; there is no ' mothering.' This is 
 a serious difficulty in connection with a cathedral school. 
 Then they are not really kept apart, so necessary in a 
 mixed school, where there are all sorts and conditions 
 of boyhood, whose example and conversation may not 
 be of the best. This is not to say that our choir-boys 
 are angels, but, in view of their place and position in 
 our cathedrals, we want, as well as vocal talent, the 
 best lad, from a moral and religious point of view, that 
 we can get. 
 
 It seems superfluous to say that great and special 
 care should be taken of our young choristers. They 
 should have regular exercise, and be encouraged in 
 boyhood games. Special care, without making them 
 ' molly-coddles,' should be taken that their vocal 
 organs are not damaged by catching colds and coughs. 
 They should have a good, sound, classical, mathemati- 
 cal, and liberal education to equip them for their future 
 life. Their moral training must be not less careful. 
 Leave to sing at private .or public concerts, public 
 dinners, should, in my opinion, be most rarely granted. 
 It is sometimes on these occasions, on which their voice 
 alone is thought of, that temptation comes, and what 
 they are asked to sing is not always wedded to purest 
 thought and word. We must discourage in them every 
 tendency to become conceited, mercenary, spoiled, and 
 ' cocky,' We cannot exaggerate the importance of 
 their religious training, both in knowledge and practice. 
 This is in part, but in part only, in the cathedral school. 
 What may not be possible in the cathedral school 
 may be supplemented by someone making the boys 
 their special care by a class on Sunday ; by pains- 
 taking and prayerful preparation for Confirmation ; by
 
 254 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 encouraging them to join a communicants' guild or 
 union, and a club for week-evening recreation. With 
 us, the Archdeacon has from year to year prepared 
 our choristers for Confirmation, and my daughter holds 
 her Sunday class, and the boys are kept together in a 
 communicants' guild and a successful club. A chorister 
 should be formally admitted with a short, suita- 
 ble office, immediately before Divine service. This 
 may, under God, produce a deep impression on the 
 child, and help him to realize the solemnity of his work. 
 Practice should be held in a convenient room and not 
 . .1!fjh in the cathedral. To hold the practice in the cathedral 
 ' ; is a fruitful source of irreverence, and engenders a 
 
 familiarity with place and words in every way to be dis- 
 couraged. To encourage both discipline and obedience 
 we still have to deal with the multiplicity of masters. 
 If ' no man can serve two masters,' how difficult for a 
 boy to know whom he is to obey of four or five. 
 There is the Dean ; in his absence the Canon-in- 
 Residence ; there is the Precentor, who requires 
 obedience as the head of the musical department ; there 
 is the organist, who is their master ; there is the head- 
 master of the cathedral school. If all these should be 
 of one mind, it is plain sailing for the boys ; should 
 they be of different views, how bewildering for them ! 
 How shall they parcel out or distribute their obe- 
 dience ? How obey bne and disobey others ? This 
 is a problem yet awaiting solution. He will do a good 
 work who solves it. And yet here, again, more will be 
 done with choristers by kindness than by fault-finding, 
 scolding", and threats. In all our cathedrals there is 
 marked improvement in the training, care, and be- 
 haviour of our choristers, even if they do some-
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 255 
 
 times upset an old woman's apples and oranges, 
 and disabuse her mind of their being anywhere 
 ' angels.' Make concessions where you can make 
 them : give half-holidays when they can be spared, 
 happy outings in the summer, pleasant evenings in 
 autumn and winter, anything that wins their affection 
 and makes them feel you are their friends, ready to 
 speak a good word for them after cathedral days and 
 when they are seeking positions of trust. All these 
 will go a long way to promote reverent behaviour in 
 the House of God, and all that feeling of a chorister 
 towards you, which is to be neither unsought nor 
 undervalued. We who are brought into such daily and 
 necessary relations with our choristers will do well to 
 remember the Master's words : ' See that ye despise f-^L^^ 
 not one of these little ones.' 
 
 Bringing this chapter on Cathedrals and Cathedral 
 Life to a close, I must not overlook the vefger, or 
 virgers. The word is variously spelt. I suppose it 
 was because in a particular cathedral they were styled 
 virgers that this is reported to have occurred : 
 
 A visitor coming to a cathedral and accosting, 
 evidently, an official, said : ' Are you in any way 
 connected with the cathedral, as I wish to be shown 
 over it.' * Yes, sir, I am what they calls a virgin! 
 ' Bless my heart ! are you a Virgin }' ' So they calls 
 me, sir, here, but not outside the cathedral.' 'Well, 
 then, Mr. Virgin, show me over the cathedral.' 
 
 I can only imagine that he had misread er for i^i. 
 We have, besides our intelligent sub-sacrist, five 
 vergers. We do not call them virgins. We are 
 required to appoint men who have served either in 
 the navy or army. Hence the sense of discipline with
 
 256 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 them ; it is also one reason why our cathedral strikes 
 the casual visitor as so clean and tidy. Speaking from 
 my experience of vergers here and elsewhere, I have 
 found them invariably faithful, honest, and obliging. 
 It is something to say that, in the course of eleven 
 years here, I have not once had to find fault with any 
 one of them, and I look on them as ' friends,' How 
 much there is in our Lord's words, ' Henceforth I call 
 you not servants, I have called you friends.' In many 
 little ways, ' easy to do,' you may foster that feeling with 
 your employes — e.g., giving them an occasional ' off- 
 day,' tickets for a concert or lecture, etc. We have 
 our vergers in at the Deanery on Sundays for their 
 tea, so that they may not have to return home in the 
 interval between 5 p.m. and our nave service at 7 p.m. 
 These ' little things ' they appreciate, and they are 
 ' willino- servants.' Amonofst them are 'characters.' 
 We were giving them their customary Christmas-box 
 last Christmas, and one of the vergers said : ' Mr. 
 Dean, ask " How about the pudding ?" ' The story of 
 the pudding was given by the maker of it, an old ' tar.' 
 
 ' Well, Mr. Dean, some of my mates had gone 
 ashore, so I thought I would have a little treat for 
 them when they came back, and as I had nothing 
 handy at hand, I made them a plum-pudding ut a 
 pair of ducks' This is the story of the impromptu 
 pudding. 
 
 It will be seen from this that vergers are not without 
 a sense of humour. As a class, in connection with our 
 cathedrals, they are regarded by visitors as a nuisance. 
 'Why must we have a verger to show us the cathedral ?' 
 * Why can we not go where we like, and roam about 
 without let or hindrance ,^' etc. ' How very mean it is
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 257 
 
 of the Dean and Chapter ! How pitiful, with their 
 endowments, to make us pay sixpence !' When I was 
 Dean of Chichester we received an anonymous letter 
 from ' Indignant Visitor,' threatening us that, if we 
 continued in our evil and corrupt ways, a small band 
 had bound themselves together by an oath either to 
 blow up or set the cathedral on fire. Notwithstanding 
 this awful threat, the graceful spire of Chichester 
 Cathedral is still a landmark to sailors far out at sea. 
 People forget the trouble it involves to show visitors 
 over a cathedral, how inconvenient it is to call sub- 
 sacrist or verger from their proper work. Why should 
 they be required to do this without remuneration any 
 more than in some public building, where some parts 
 have more especially to be guarded ? Few would 
 believe what occasionally takes place in our parish 
 churches and cathedrals, acts and abuses which I doubt 
 ever occur in Roman Catholic churches. Englishmen 
 are for the most part the great offenders abroad. I, 
 who had charge of one of our churches in Paris, know- 
 well how indignant priest and people feel at the 
 irreverent ways of Tom, Dick, and Harry, when they 
 stare at those who are kneeling in prayer, walk about 
 with an air of contemptuous disapproval of what they 
 see, and sometimes make their unseemly comments 
 aloud. 
 
 I remember on one occasion, when visiting Notre 
 Dame Cathedral, an 'Edwin and Angelina' — and these 
 honeymoon folk are the worst offenders — walking up 
 the aisle arm in arm. Instantly a verger pounced 
 upon them. ' Laissez les bras, laissez les bras, monsieur 
 et madame !' And quite right, the verger or sacristan 
 was rebuking them as they deserved. Vergers have 
 
 17
 
 258 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 not only to take care that no one secretes himself for 
 sacrilege or some nefarious purpose, but that none 
 misbehave in other ways. Acts of positive indecency 
 have been committed ; but, apart from these, I had 
 occasion not long ago to expostulate with a gentleman 
 who was deliberately reading the newspaper, so 
 making the House of God a ' lounge.' It is not 
 infrequent to find people drying their umbrellas on wet 
 days in the hot air which comes through our gratings. 
 I found a clergyman writing his letters and postcards, 
 which were strewn about over convenient chairs. I 
 remonstrated with him. He said : ' Don't you think, 
 Mr. Dean, that writing letters here makes them 
 sacred?' I could not help asking : ' In what light do 
 you regard your letters written outside the cathedral ?' 
 It is really surprising how thoughtlessly and in- 
 decorously well-to-do people will behave in our 
 cathedrals and churches. It is this which makes it in 
 some cases impossible to keep them open all day 
 unless there be someone in charge. Not long ago a 
 van full of holiday-makers stopped at a village church, 
 and the Vicar found a mock wedding going on in his 
 church ! One of the party had put on the Vicar's 
 surplice. I remember going into Westminster Abbey 
 one day, years ago now, when I lived in the Cloisters. 
 The verofers were showing visitors over the enclosed 
 portion of it. A respectable-looking woman and her 
 daughter seated themselves in the choir stalls, pro- 
 duced their luncheon basket, and were about to draw 
 the cork of a bottle of stout, when I called the attention 
 of the verger to this irreverence in the Abbey. They 
 must have mistaken it for a restaurant. I found one, 
 for whom allowance had, of course, to be made as not
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 259 
 
 being ' all there,' arranging her bonnet in front of the 
 highly-polished lectern, which she was using as a 
 looking-glass. A lady was one day reading a book. 
 I saw at a glance that it was not Bible or Prayer- 
 Book ; it did not look like a book of devotion. I said 
 to her : ' I am sure you will not mind my asking you 
 if you are reading a devotional book.' 'Well,' she 
 replied, ' I cannot say it is a devotional book, but it is 
 Tennyson ; do you mind my reading that here ?' I 
 could not but reply that there would practically be 
 no limit to what people might wish thus leisurely to 
 read. Did she read it in the hope that she might get 
 some inspiration to understand some portion of it more 
 clearly ? 
 
 So, not to multiply illustrations, the reader will see 
 that the presence and vigilance of vergers is absolutely 
 necessary in our cathedrals to safeguard ourselves 
 against such doings, and that to call them off from 
 their proper work is not always convenient nor desir- 
 able. To pay a sixpence for taking up a considerable 
 portion of a verger's time is not a very ruinous or 
 exorbitant demand. We have adopted a plan by 
 which the system of ' tipping ' is, to a very large 
 extent, prevented. This is not to say that our vergers 
 should not receive a Christmas present, if people are 
 kindly so ' disposed,' but to tip the vergers habitually is 
 to defraud the Dean and Chapter. Visitors enter their 
 names in a book kept for the purpose. Their contri- 
 butions go to our general fund for the fabric or 
 improvement fund of the cathedral, helpful to us, as we 
 have no * Domus fund.' A former verger acknowledged 
 to me that he received about ^100 a year in tips! 
 The system prevailed largely in my church in Regent 
 
 17 — 2
 
 26o ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Street. Club-men were the chief sinners. One of my 
 vergers had two pockets on one side conveniently- 
 arranged for the reception of ' tips.' Canon Repton 
 made him disgorge its contents. I forget how much 
 on a particular Sunday was disgorged. 
 
 This story is too good not to be told. In the days 
 gone by a verger in a cathedral was always on the 
 look-out for ' tips.' Anyone who did not offer one 
 was left out in the cold, unnoticed. A gentleman 
 came, and the verger, by some instinct, felt that he 
 was not the ' right sort,' and took no notice of him. 
 On the visitor putting his finger in his waistcoat pocket, 
 the verger at once, knowing what that meant, offered 
 him a seat in one of the stalls. The visitor bestowed 
 on him, with 'thank you much,' the munificent and 
 astounding ' pourboire ' of one halfpenny ! After ser- 
 vice, the verger came up to him and said : ' I hope, 
 sir, you enjoyed the service ?' ' Oh, very much, thank 
 you ; the music is very sweet.' ' I hope, sir, you will 
 come again ?' ' Yes, I hope to do so should I find 
 myself again passing through the city.' ' I don't know, 
 sir, if you are aware that you gave me only one half- 
 penny.' 'Oh yes, I was perfectly, thank you, aware 
 of what I was doing, as I have made it a rule in life 
 never, on any consideration, to give fellows like you 
 less than one halfpenny.' 
 
 Sad things are told' of vergers, but it is sad to think 
 that vergers should have any cause to say what has* 
 been told of them ; that they should even say them 
 shows that constant attendance at daily services has 
 not the effect we could desire, but sometimes the 
 contrary. Their necessary duties do not allow, I 
 fear, of devotion — e.g. : ' How long have you been a
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 261 
 
 verger here ?' ' Nigh upon twenty years, sir, and 
 I am thankful to say I am, notwithstanding, still a 
 Christian.' 
 
 Another, well authenticated : ' How great your 
 privilege, verger, to be always here in this stately 
 building, to hear the beautiful music !' ' Yes, sir ; 
 but the worst of it is I have no place of worship 
 to go to.' 
 
 I heard lately of a man who never went to a place 
 of worship, and, being remonstrated with by the 
 curate, replied : ' I sits at home, curate, and consider 
 myself a buttress supporting the church outside.' 
 
 What stories ex abitndanti we could tell of vergers ! 
 I select one or two, not 'old chestnuts.' 
 
 A countryman, wandering about a churchyard, came 
 upon a stone having the inscription : ' Sic transit gloria 
 mundi.' ' What does it mean T he asked of the verger, 
 who, not wishing to show his ignorance, replied : 
 ' Well, it means this, that he was sick transiently, and 
 went to glory Monday morning.' 
 
 At a village church the verger acted as organ-blower. 
 The people had a particular liking for the Hallelujah 
 Chorus. The ' organette ' consisted of one manual, 
 four or six stops, and pedals corresponding. The 
 organist was taken ill. The Vicar had a friend staying 
 with him for a ' week-end,' a well-known organist in a 
 leading London church. On his arrival, the Vicar told 
 his friend that he was in great straits about Sunday, 
 that he hardly liked to ask such a 'swell,' but ' would 
 he play on the following Sunday }' to which he at once 
 consented. 
 
 ' Is there anything your people particularly like .'*' 
 * Well, as you ask me, they are very partial to the
 
 262 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Hallelujah Chorus.' ' Oh, all right, they shall have it !' 
 He had not seen the organ. 
 
 Sunday came ; the organist seated himself at this 
 mao^nificent instrument, and did his best to fill in all the 
 chords. He enjoyed some reputation for his pedal- 
 playing. In a shorter time than it takes to record this, 
 the • organette ' gasped and became short of wind. After 
 service he expostulated with the blower, and said : 
 ' Why did you not go on blowing T ' Do you think, 
 sir.' replied the blower, ' that I have been a-blowing 
 that 'ere organ all these twenty years, and don't know 
 by this time how much wind the 'Allelujah Chorus 
 wants ?' 
 
 One more. Our Guild of Church Musicians, of 
 which I am president, meets once a year at the Holborn 
 Restaurant for dinner. I have heard there some rare 
 stories at the lips of organists, some of which have 
 escaped my memory. This one I do not think I could 
 forget. At one of our cathedrals the Minor Canon 
 was ill, and could not sing. A Suffragan Bishop had a 
 good voice, and volunteered to sing the Litany. ' Go,' 
 he said to the verger, ' and tell the organist that I will 
 sing the Litany, and ask him to give me the reciting 
 note.' 'Please, sir,' said the verger, 'the Bishop of 
 
 has sent me to you to say he will sing the Litany.' 
 
 ' All right,' said the organist. Seeing the verger 
 remain, he said: 'You need not stay.' 'Please, sir, 
 the Bishop asked me to ask you if you would give him 
 a something — I didn't quite catch — note.' ' You mean 
 the reciting note.' ' That's it, sir — that's it.' Seeing the 
 verger still remaining, he said : ' You need not stay.' 
 To which the verger said : ' Please, sir, shall I take 
 it to his lordship ?'
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 26 
 
 3 
 
 Fancy G sharp or A flat wrapped up in an envelope 
 and handed in at the Litany desk ! 
 
 One more of many. It is told of a verger, when 
 a Bishop asked him when he was to make his appear- 
 ance : ' First, I take the choir-people to their places, 
 and then, after they are seated, I return for you, and 
 conduct you to the halter/ 
 
 As a body, they are for the most part faithful, 
 obedient, and willing. They have their temptations, 
 like other men. They appreciate kindness and consider- 
 ateness, like other men. If service be monotonous, it 
 is so at times to others. If worshippers are at times 
 indevout, or show no obligation of attending daily 
 service, we will not be hard on our officials, but make 
 every reasonable allowance for them, calling them to 
 remembrance if need be, and encouraging them to set, 
 so far as they may, a good example both in life and 
 conversation. 
 
 So if a cathedral be a great trust, its position as the 
 mother church commanding opportunities large and 
 varied, we who are trusted with them should show 
 that we recognise and fully appreciate the trust 
 committed to us. We may not attain to the ideal. 
 Who does in anything pertaining to this life ? There 
 may be something still wantino- to the fabric to make 
 it complete in every detail. Our preaching may be 
 more soul-stirring and more edifying ; our music more 
 carefully rendered at every service ; our lay clerks 
 regular communicants and possible lay readers ; our 
 choristers examples of reverence and possible clergy ; 
 our vergers not open to tips, better informed as to 
 reciting notes, and more disposed to feel that the 
 cathedral in which they serve may be, as it ought to be,
 
 264 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 a place in which they feel they can worship. We can 
 only ' go on to perfection.' If we think of a cathedral 
 as a legacy bequeathed to us of the piety and devotion 
 of days gone by ; a triumph of art ; beautiful to look 
 upon; interesting in its antiquarian, architectural, or his- 
 torical aspects, this must be a secondary conception of a 
 cathedral. A cathedral must not be looked upon as a 
 building for sightseers, picnic parties, a museum of 
 curiosities, the verger the showman at so much a head. 
 It should not be regarded only from an antiquarian 
 point of view, interesting and attractive as that is. 
 Beyond all question our cathedrals are amongst the 
 most interesting records of an age gone by. Everyone 
 who has to do with a cathedral is aware of the large 
 proportion of Americans who visit, admire, and envy 
 our cathedrals. All this cannot but be. Is it not 
 desirable it should be ? What we of this generation 
 should feel is that a cathedral should be handed down 
 to the generations ' yet unborn ' in many ways better 
 and not worse for our having had charge of it. The 
 fabric should not be allowed to deteriorate or to show 
 signs of carelessness or niggardly expenditure. We 
 have to think how they may more and more adapt 
 themselves to modern requirements. A cathedral 
 should be a living thing ; its power and usefulness 
 should make itself felt throughout the diocese ; its 
 daily services available where other churches keep 
 doors closed, and those services made as attractive and 
 devotional as possible. Candidates for Ordination 
 should not only desire by preference to be ordained in 
 the cathedral, but their Ordination day should be ever 
 memorable because of the special solemnity of its 
 surroundings and service. No unpleasing remembrance
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 265 
 
 of slovenliness, want of dignity, or lack of preparation 
 should be left in their minds. The same may be said 
 when the Bishop of the diocese holds his Confirmation 
 in ' his cathedral' 
 
 In every way possible, besides statutory services, 
 Ordinations, and Confirmations, our cathedrals should 
 be utilized as ours, I may with truth say, is at Bristol. 
 Since my appointment in 1891 some ^24,000 has been 
 raised by the voluntary subscriptions of the citizens for 
 the restoration of the cathedral and the preservation of 
 the fabric generally. I hold Bristol Cathedral to be for 
 all working purposes a model — indeed, almost an ideal 
 — cathedral. We have our spacious choir, in which, if 
 occasion require, we can accommodate a considerable 
 number of singers for oratorios or choral festivals. We 
 have two restored chapels, the easternmost Lady Chapel 
 and the elder Lady Chapel, the one holding 200, the 
 other 100, all fitted up for short or occasional service — 
 e.g., for use when the service is ' said ' for early Celebra- 
 tion, for special Advent or Lent lectures, for guilds. 
 We have a spacious nave, in which our worshippers 
 assemble at all statutory services, and which is filled 
 to repletion at the non-statutory evening service on 
 Sundays, a bright, popular service, where the singing is 
 thoroughly congregational, tunes well known, preach- 
 ing ad popuhim. The preacher is not limited to ten or 
 twenty minutes. The Chapter- room is available for 
 diocesan meetings, diocesan conferences, ruri-decanal 
 Chapters, and I lend it for gatherings for other 
 purposes. I doubt that any cathedral in England is 
 more used for large gatherings — e.g., parade services, 
 friendly societies, or associations which have in view 
 the spiritual or social welfare of our people. Our gates
 
 266 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 are open from ten to five daily. Our side-chapels are 
 no longer — as I found our elder Lady Chapel in par- 
 ticular — boarded off, with huge timbers inside support- 
 ing the roof, and into which anything for which there 
 was no use was thrown, desecrated, uncared for, 
 unused, but hallowed by use and by special devotional 
 exercises. Such are the demands of our age for 
 multiplied and more varied services that it has been 
 said that ' if we had not cathedrals it would be neces- 
 sary to found them.' 
 
 The reproach, probably at one time deserved, is 
 rapidly passing away from the Church of England that 
 she has inherited buildings too vast for modern use, and 
 that she has opportunities of far-spreading influence, 
 of which she does not know how to avail herself If 
 parish churches in her immediate vicinity suffer some- 
 times by people feeling at liberty to go to 'Jerusalem, 
 Mother of us all,' and some would even say, ' Down 
 with it, down with it, even to the ground,' I am quite 
 persuaded that the revived life of our cathedrals is 
 quickening the life of neighbouring parishes, and the 
 possible loss of a few of a congregation and diminished 
 offertory is fully compensated for by the increased 
 efforts of the parochial clergy to make their own 
 services more bright, more attractive, so that their 
 people have less and less excuse for wandering from 
 the fold. 
 
 To those who complain of their parishioners 
 coming occasionally to the cathedral I often say : 
 ' What can you do ? You cannot lay an embargo on 
 people that they shall go nowhere but to their own 
 parish church ; you cannot dictate in these matters. 
 You cannot put up boards outside your cathedral, as you
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 267 
 
 see in private grounds or field or wood, ' Trespassers 
 will be prosecuted.' 
 
 With reference to a ' daily Celebration ' in our cathe- 
 drals, there is much to say in favour of it ; but very 
 few outside cathedrals realize the difficulty of carrying 
 into practice what in theory is right and desirable. A 
 cathedral is not a parish church. We have, as a rule, 
 no parishioners. Where, as in our case, we are sur- 
 rounded with parish churches, the Vicar would expect 
 his people to communicate in their own parish church. 
 When we see more avail themselves of a Thursday or 
 Saint's Day Celebration, we may begin to think of a 
 daily Celebration. I will not say that it involves added 
 duty to our vergers, and places us under added obliga- 
 tion to our Minor Canons, whose statutory duties are 
 fixed, but w^hose assistance at an early Celebration is 
 entirely voluntary on their part. We must not, in 
 our cathedrals, set the example of violation or dis- 
 regard of the rubric, which provides that ' there shall 
 be no Communion except four (or three at the 
 least) communicate with the Priest. . . .' The reason 
 for this rubric is well understood. It is prac- 
 tically to safeguard against the Mass and the priest 
 communicating alone. Personally, I do not like to put 
 pressure on anyone to communicate. We have a 
 Communicants' Guild, and may take occasion to express 
 the hope that its members would attend Thursdays and 
 Saints' Days, but I do not like persons being asked 
 to communicate in order that they might ' make up ' 
 the necessary number. I am not aware of any statutory 
 provision which requires us to have a daily Celebration 
 in our cathedrals. This being so, it must be left to
 
 268 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 the decision of the Dean whether or not he will 
 have one. 
 
 In bringing this chapter to a close I cannot do 
 better than quote the words of one well known in the 
 Church, whose memory I cherish as that of a valued 
 friend, the late Canon Venables, Canon and Precentor 
 of Lincoln Cathedral : 
 
 ' Each year as it passes manifests with increasing 
 power that Deans and Chapters are fully awake to the 
 fact that cathedrals have as true and as necessary a 
 place in the Church system of the nineteenth century 
 as in that of the thirteenth, and that they are resolved 
 that the cathedral shall once more become the religious 
 centre of the diocese, the warm heart throbbing with 
 religious life, and diffusing strength, hope, and vitality 
 to every parish within it, as well as the sacred house 
 whose doors are ever left open to receive all her 
 children who may desire to come and worship within 
 her walls, and join in the services of prayer and praise 
 which have gone up thence unceasingly year after 
 year and century after century, with all the stateliness 
 and magnificence that dignified ceremonial and music 
 in the brightest form and its ,most skilful execution can 
 produce. A new and glorious future is now opening 
 before our cathedrals. May all their rulers and 
 guardians have wisdom to perceive their opportunities, 
 and avail themselves of them before it be too late ! 
 Then will our cathedrals be seen to be the source and 
 channels of advantage so great to the Church and 
 religion of England that the mouth of the enemy will 
 be stopped, the hand of the spoiler stayed, and the 
 voice will go up through the length and breadth of our 
 land, " Destroy them not, for a blessing is in them." '
 
 CATHEDRAL LIFE 269 
 
 It may be of interest to musicians to know what 
 were the exercises set by Sir T. Ouseley : 
 
 EXAMINATION 
 
 FOR THE 
 
 APPOINTMENT OF ORGANIST 
 
 TO THE 
 
 HALIFAX PARISH CHURCH, 
 
 Friday^ November 24, 1882. 
 
 Art. I. — An organ composition to be played by each candidate. 
 (The selection left to the performer.) 
 
 Art. II. — A chorus or overture by Handel. (The selection left to 
 the performer.) 
 
 Art. III. — An organ movement to be played at first sight. 
 
 Art. IV. — A chant from a figured bass and a Psalm tune in vocal 
 score to be played at sight. 
 
 Art. V. — A short extemporaneous prelude in any key appointed by 
 the judge.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS THE RELATION OF DISEASE TO 
 
 CRIME* 
 
 Invited to read a paper on the occasion of one of 
 these pleasant gatherings, and before men ' of light 
 and leading,' with whom I feel it a privilege to be thus 
 associated, I must honestly confess that I am haunted 
 with the fear that I have selected a subject not only- 
 difficult and intricate, but one with which so many 
 present are, on every ground, more qualified to deal. 
 You will, however, deal as tenderly with me as I 
 should with you were you to read a paper on a subject 
 more strictly theological. 
 
 My plea for taking such a subject must be that I 
 have for many years taken a deep interest in it, and 
 have been brought into contact with institutions and 
 persons more or less identified with it. 
 
 Our blessed Lord did not in His ministry ignore the 
 relation of sin to sickness, and of bodily ailment to 
 some form of spiritual disease. The subject, e.g., of 
 demoniacal possession is one of peculiar interest. 
 Apart from the view broached and very ably argued 
 by Mr. Woodward, that it was in every case an imita- 
 tion by Satan of the Incarnation, a last and supreme 
 
 * Paper read at a meeting of the Bristol Scientific Club. 
 [ 270 ]
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS 271 
 
 device of the Evil One, there have been men in our 
 own day who, sometimes amongst their latest utterances 
 on the scaffold, have said that the only explanation 
 they could give of their crime is that they were 
 ' possessed.' Neander, in his ' Life of Christ,' remarks 
 that the coming of our Lord into the world was charac- 
 terized, as it was accompanied, by strange forms of 
 psychical maladies, and certainly a visit to the Salpetriere 
 proves that these have not ceased to be. I doubt that 
 we are in a position to affirm that ' possession ' is im- 
 possible or unimaginable. A sin which by force of 
 habit and frequency of indulgence becomes ' besetting ' 
 — i.e., part of a man's self, woven into the very texture 
 of his being — may become, by the weakening of his 
 personal will and absence of self-control, so all-possess- 
 ing as that he can scarcely be held responsible for 
 what at last ' has dominion ' over him. The homicidal 
 mania, kleptomania, dipsomania, and other manias, 
 such as unchastity or particular forms of dishonesty, 
 jealousy, and many more, are assuredly diseases, partly 
 mental, partly physical. There are those who teach and 
 maintain that all sin is insanity. In the great majority 
 of cases of suicide a merciful and intelligent jury pro- 
 nounces the verdict, not oi felo-de-se, which forfeits 
 Christian burial, but of ' temporary insanity.' Charcot's 
 theory is that what is styled ' hypnotism ' is really 
 suggestion. ' Hypnotism,' like many other words, no 
 more explains the phenomena of hypnotism than ' elec- 
 tricity ' explains the phenomena of a force which no one 
 yet is able fully to explain. There are those who will 
 not trust themselves to a great height ; the impulse or 
 suggestion comes to throw themselves down. A train 
 rushes through a platform ; there comes the suggestion
 
 272 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 to throw yourself under the wheels. If the will be 
 weak, the suggestion is too strong for it. If the will 
 be strong, nothing more comes of the suggestion. 
 These are facts within the experience of many, and 
 much more mig-ht be said to the same effect. 
 
 A fuller knowledge of our complex nature, a more 
 intelligent study of its possible states and conditions, 
 shows that there is some mysterious, subtle, abstruse 
 relation of mind to matter, each affecting the other, as, 
 for instance, under the influence of a narcotic. The 
 result, for we are but on the threshold of the inquiry, 
 with the special opportunities which prisons, hospitals, 
 asylums, penitentiaries afford, is shown in the treat- 
 ment of criminals and of insane persons. In how many 
 cases the temporary insanity may be so diagnosed as 
 to refer its immediate cause to an overwrought mind, 
 or sudden shock, or a great sorrow ; in how many 
 cases to an unguessed physical malady ! Why subject 
 those already so sore afflicted to treatment which can 
 only enhance their misery ? Is it not time to remind 
 judges that a man may be guilty because he is partly in- 
 sane, and that it may be better to take care of a criminal 
 rather than severely punish him for what he cannot in 
 every case be considered responsible ? Have we not 
 to persuade judges and juries that there are crimes 
 which can be proved to be the outcome of some 
 affection of the brain, that perhaps there is no crime 
 or even misdemeanour that may not be a form of 
 ' dementia ' at the time of its conception ? The opinion 
 is gaining ground that disease, mental or physical, 
 must be taken into account in connection with crime. 
 Punishment must be less vindictive and more deterrent. 
 This consideration will not make crime less crime, but
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS 273 
 
 it will tend to lessen crime, because of more lenient 
 penalties and less harsh judgments. 
 
 Preaching a short time ago before the Judges of 
 Assize, and taking for my text ' Mercy rejoiceth against 
 judgment,' one of the judges, while thanking me for the 
 sermon, said : ' I suppose. Dean, we are to infer from 
 your sermon that we are to let off every prisoner 
 brought before us ?' My answer was, ' No ; ' but I 
 sent him Shakespeare's anticipation of the more 
 humane light in which to look on wrong-doing : 
 
 ' The quality of mercy is not strain'd, 
 It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
 Upon the place beneath : it is twice blest ; 
 It blesseth him that gives and him that takes : 
 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
 The throned monarch better than his crown ; 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
 The attribute to awe and majesty, 
 Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
 But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; 
 It is enthroned in the hearts of Kings, 
 It is an attribute to God Himself; 
 And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
 When mercy seasons justice.' 
 
 If there be a physical ' squint,' may there not also be 
 a mental or moral squint ? The whole penal code 
 will assuredly be modified or readjusted when heredity 
 is taken, far more than even at present it is, into 
 account. Reform rather than suffering will be the aim 
 of criminal jurisprudence. Nature is vindictive. Viola- 
 tion of her laws is never unattended with penalty. 
 The consequence of a momentary forgetfulness, the 
 disregard of the conditions of safety, are inexorable, 
 unpitying. But Nature is unintelligent. Matter does 
 
 18
 
 274 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 not think. Law does not reason. It makes no allow- 
 ance for violations. Is it possible, we might ask, that 
 the contemplation of what follows on the infringement 
 of Nature's laws has so far affected and influenced 
 the human mind that we have transferred to moral 
 delinquency the same severity by way of justification 
 of punishment, or has Christianity interposed, and, 
 while not abrogating Sinai, punishment is more in- 
 fluenced by the cross of Christ ? The age in which 
 we live could not, would not, happily, tolerate a second 
 Jeflreys. Its sympathies are more with the late 
 and beloved London magistrate, Mr. Williams. Time 
 was when society fought savagely against crime. The 
 earlier annals of Newgate abundantly prove this. 
 Reprisals were both cruel and vindictive. Riddance, 
 not reform, was the governing thought until our 
 colonies rose up against it with the protest, ' No 
 rubbish shot here !' 
 
 We stand aghast at the record of our prisons until a 
 Howard and a Fry visited them and called public 
 attention to their iniquities. We read with amazement, 
 in the light of more humane views, of barbarous 
 torture, mutilation, splitting of nostrils, heavy weights 
 on the chest, flaying alive, wholesale execution, disem- 
 bowelling, the slow and exquisite agony of impalement, 
 — brutal, fiendish methods which England at one time 
 pressed into her service to extort confession or to 
 vindicate justice! 'Nous avons change tout cela.' 
 Every civilized nation is nowadays, thanks be to God ! 
 bent on improving her penal system — thinking, dis- 
 cussing, planning how it can best protect society 
 against transgression, and at the same time reform and 
 reclaim the transgressor. Now, with this somewhat
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS 275 
 
 lengthy preface, and yet apropos, we will address our- 
 selves more directly to the subject before us. 
 
 Disease and crime,* physical disorders and mis- 
 conduct, bodily ailments and offences against society — 
 are these in any way related to each other ? Are they 
 concomitants, or is one a stimulant to the other? 
 Would the one be if the other were not ? If men and 
 women were never ill, would they never sin ? If 
 angels be incorporeal, is that one reason why they are 
 incapable of transgression ? You say at once, ' But 
 healthy men and women sin, and invalids are often 
 saints.' But can it be predicated with truth of any 
 man, who as soon as he is born begins to die, that he 
 is at all times in perfect health, or that anyone on this 
 side of the grave, however saintly, is absolutely sinless ? 
 Taking men and women as they commonly, and not 
 exceptionally, are ; having regard to their complex 
 organization and duality of being ; knowing, as we do, 
 how mind affects matter, how intimately and subtilely 
 these are by some mysterious nexus connected, is it 
 unreasonable to assume that matter equally affects 
 mind ? I use these words mind and matter because 
 no amount of scientific knowledge will ever do away 
 with these time-honoured phrases by which we dis- 
 tinguish the one from the other. The action of mind 
 and matter, of matter and mind, is mutual. Are 
 therefore, disease and crime, apparently so distinct and 
 having nothing in common, as cause and effect } Are, 
 they co-ordinate terms ? Are they modifications or 
 different phenomenal developments of one and the 
 same thing, as from a Leyden jar or Voltaic battery 
 
 * Crime has been defined as ' a failure to live up to the standard 
 recognised as binding by the community.' 
 
 18—2
 
 276 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 you can have light, heat, or motion ? I am well aware 
 that to hold such a view would lay one open to the 
 charge of being a materialist ; for if tenable and true, 
 it would reduce crime to a ' necessity ' in particular 
 vicious beings, and would favour the theory, so affected 
 by some who are studying social problems, that, given 
 a certain number of people out of health, you can 
 approximately forecast the amount of crime that will be 
 committed. A recent contributor to the International 
 Scientific Series reduces suicide, on this principle, to 
 average. Given certain outward conditions of parent- 
 age, food, climate, sex, country, and the number ot 
 suicides in a given area of population may be as nicely 
 calculated as the average offertories in our churches on 
 a given Sunday. You are all aware how you may 
 prove anything by statistics. I have to bear in mind 
 that the law of average strikes at the root of moral 
 responsibility, and of all that is understood by indi- 
 vidual liberty to say 'Yes ' or ' No.' It furnishes the 
 criminal class with an excuse or plea which to their 
 mind would fully justify wrong-doing, or would at least 
 palliate crime. Would it do to say, ' I cannot help 
 doing ill,' or ' I cannot help. doing good ' ? I can under- 
 stand a man treating my subject from a strictly scien- 
 tific point of view, without regard to any practical 
 results, for theorists do not always contemplate the 
 practical consequences of their theories. But one who 
 habitually, and with full conviction of the truth, teaches 
 that there is no sin a man jzeed commit, that sin is not 
 a necessity of our being, that freewill, involving moral 
 responsibility, is our birthright, cannot consistently 
 endorse what would seem to discount all this, and sell 
 his birthright for a mess of pottage. I have to see
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS 277 
 
 that I do not think otherwise in approaching and deal- 
 ing with this subject. One may, however, for discus- 
 sion's sake, propose such a theme to you as a problem 
 in morals, in much the same spirit as Archbishop 
 Whately wrote a brochure to show that we have no 
 reason to believe our parents were our parents except 
 on testimony, and, in no frivolous but serious spirit, he 
 applied this to the historical fact of the birth of the 
 Founder of Christianity. We have no reason to believe 
 that Napoleon lived except on concurrent testimony. 
 And thus certain subjects may, I think, be mooted and 
 discussed in a spirit which provokes discussion and 
 encourages investigation. I am struck with the fact 
 that the relation, or possible relation, of physical 
 disease to crime is rarely, if ever, treated of. I can 
 recall no one book written definitely and distinctly on 
 the subject. If you casually mention it, it is looked on 
 as a novel idea, or reference is at once made to the 
 irresponsible acts of violence or the misdoings of the 
 epileptic and insane. All are ready to recognise the 
 evils which follow on intemperance, impurity, un- 
 governed temper. But this is not to the point. It is 
 not the diseases which are in some cases the Nemesis 
 of sin, or the social offences which may be traced to 
 want of self-control, of which I am now thinking; but, 
 vice versa, the relation of disease, from a purely 
 physical point of view, to crime. 
 
 Consistently with the commonly-received doctrine of 
 the Fall, by which, so far as the human race is concerned, 
 ' death came upon all men for that all have sinned,' 
 death, as we know it, is the result of various diseases, 
 which stand, therefore, in some relation to transgression. 
 Sin and death came hand-in-hand on our fallen race.
 
 278 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 That death, and in violent form, existed before the crea- 
 tion of our first parents few, if any, would nowadays 
 seriously question. The teeth of extinct carnivorous 
 animals abundantly prove that death was no new 
 experience with the Fall, We do not, however, 
 associate sin with the mastodon, ichthyosaurus, or 
 megatherium. We do not associate transgression with 
 antediluvian carnivorous animals, or crime with the 
 slow formation of coal strata through decaying sigillaria 
 and tropical forest growths. That some exit from this 
 world was always intended the translation of Enoch 
 proves to one who believes his Bible. To one who sits 
 loosely to the Word of God not only would an immor- 
 tality of this present mode of existence be no boon, but 
 place must somehow be given for that succession of 
 beings, to secure which is one of the prime laws of our 
 being. It is in the manner of dying, not in death 
 itself, that the penalty of disobedience is paid, because 
 'sin when it is finished bringeth forth death.' How 
 much more, perhaps, than is generally understood 
 underlies the passionate exclamation, ' Oh, wretched 
 man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of 
 this death ?' 
 
 That disease and crime, if not correlative terms, 
 have some subtle relation which would not be with 
 incorporate beings — if such can be imagined — is not 
 inconsistent with, but is rather confirmed by, and tallies 
 with, the orthodox account of the Fall. The question, 
 of course, occurs, Had man retained his pristine state 
 in paradise of a physiqtie perfect in every detail of its 
 organization, would he have ever committed crime ? 
 From the merely human aspect, and not from the 
 Divine, the only one sinless Being that has trod this
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS 279 
 
 earth was surely also without physical blemish or 
 deformity, ' Perfect God and perfect Man.' 
 
 But whence are we to get our data and statistics in 
 connection with our problem ? Shall they be from 
 hospitals or from prisons, from medical men or clergy, 
 from nurses or gaolers, from chemists or evangelists 
 from those who by their professional life are brought 
 daily into close contact with disease, or from those who 
 by their judicial functions or religious ministrations are 
 brought daily into close contact with crime ? The 
 physician, whether in private practice or in the wider 
 practice of our hospitals, well knows how important it is 
 to make careful inquiry into the antecedents of a patient, 
 how far a particular disease is hereditary or contracted, 
 and such inquiry has not a little to do with both 
 diagnosis and treatment of the individual case. Like 
 inquiry is made by police and magistrate into the 
 antecedents of a prisoner, and has much to do with 
 the punishment, longer or shorter, severe or lenient, 
 meted out. The law of heredity, one of the most 
 potent factors of our common life, the predisposition 
 wrapped up in our organization and transmitted by 
 inheritance, is taken into account alike by physician 
 and judge. The process, reaching back to atavism, 
 if not further, which renders possible the persistence, 
 not only of organic structure, whether in animal or 
 vegetable life, but also of dispositions, inclinations, 
 tendencies, even of character, perplexed as the whole 
 subject may be by the multiplicity of its manifestations, 
 is still sufficiently understood as to be reckoned with. 
 Acquired character would seem to be as capable of 
 transmission as disease ; a predisposition to crime as 
 much as a deformity or mutilation. If you can
 
 28o ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 have congenital malformation, instances of which are 
 plentiful as blackberries, may you not have congenital 
 vice ? This hereditary transmission of acquired 
 character, and of all the phenomena associated with 
 it, while not necessarily endorsing the theory of the 
 materialist, may be only intelligible as certain organs 
 are consciously used or abused. There may be a care- 
 ful cultivation or culpable neglect of a talent — e.g., a 
 gift for music, painting, or mathematics ; and whatever 
 the inborn, predisposing influence of heredity, it is not 
 so omnipotent or overpowering as to leave anyone 
 without excuse who does not cultivate his native 
 endowment. Heredity and habit cannot be dissociated, 
 and may have much to do, not by necessary law, but 
 by accidental environment, with formation of character, 
 but I cannot bring myself to believe that there is any 
 such potency in either heredity or habit as to over- 
 ride or interfere with freewill and with the power of 
 inhibition. 
 
 If a physical malformation can be manipulated, why 
 may not an inherited vicious tendency be rectified. And 
 this brings me somewhat nearer to what I am submitting 
 for your consideration. I am not thinking of mental 
 disease : of the influence of the mind, in morbid 
 conditions, on the body, on which so much has been 
 ably written, which is a separate department of psychical 
 research, and which finds abundant material in our 
 asylums, and more particularly at the Salpetriere. It is 
 in asylums and in maisons de santd, as well as in private 
 practice, that mental disease is to be seen and studied, 
 from the milder form of hysteria to the more aggra- 
 vated and acute of hopeless, incurable dementia. The 
 influence of the intellect, the emotions, the will, on
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS 281 
 
 sensation, on the voluntary and involuntary muscles, 
 on organic functions ; the influence of mental states on 
 all the above named — all this is well understood. 
 Medical science has invented the word psycho-thera- 
 peutics to express the methods by which this mysterious 
 power can be controlled and subdued. Every physician 
 is aware of the beneficial results of more intelligent and 
 humane treatment of the insane: of the effect of 
 temporary removal from exciting circumstances, of 
 timely and enforced rest for overwrought brain, of 
 seclusion from corrosive anxieties, and of all the 
 remedial effects of music, dancing, and varied amuse- 
 ment. The reply to Shakespeare's well-known chal- 
 lenge which he puts into the lips of Macbeth would be 
 very different in the lips of a physician of our own 
 
 times : 
 
 ' " Not so sick, my lord,'\ says the physician, 
 "As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, 
 That keeps her from her rest." 
 
 Cure her of that. 
 Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, 
 Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, 
 Raze out the written troubles of the brain 
 And with some sweet oblivious antidote 
 Purge the stuff' d bosom of that perilous stuff 
 Which weighs upon the heart ?' 
 
 A Tuke, Charcot, Brown-Sequard, Russell Reynolds, 
 would not reply to such a challenge : 
 
 * Herein the patient must minister to himself.' 
 
 Nor, again, am I thinking of the effect, equally well 
 known, of the imagination on the body, of which we 
 have so many illustrations, some eminently ludicrous, 
 others eminently interesting. Who cannot recall 
 ludicrous instances of the effect of imacjination } I
 
 282 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 knew personally a patient in a hydropathic establish- 
 ment who was suffering from some affection of the 
 duodenmn. He would have it that the mischief was 
 with his rhododendron. To inquire after the condition 
 of his duodenum gave him no comfort, but he seemed 
 better when you made tender inquiries about his 
 rhododendron ! You may have heard the story of the 
 doctor who left his prescription on the table for a lady 
 who suffered from sciatica. ' Put this to your side ' 
 was, by the patient, interpreted literally. Instead of 
 obtaining the plaster prescribed, she applied the pre- 
 scription itself, with sensible benefit ! A parallel case 
 is mentioned by the genial author of ' Rab and his 
 Friends.' He ordered a labouring man some medicine, 
 and, giving him the prescription, said, ' Take that, and 
 come back in a fortnight and you will be well !' He 
 came back at the time specified, hearty and well, with 
 clean tongue and good appetite. Dr. John Brown was 
 proud of the wonders his prescription had so quickly 
 effected, and said : ' Let me see what I gave you.' 
 ' Oh,' said the patient, ' I took it !' ' Yes,' said 
 Dr. Brown ; ' but the prescription ?' ' I took it as you 
 bade me. You said " Take//^^/," and I swallowed the 
 paper at once.' 
 
 An action not long ago was brought against a chemist 
 for doing what he had some excuse for doing. A well- 
 known physician in ' London was attending a lady 
 suffering from some chronic and incurable disease ; as 
 he left the room, he said : ' Well, madam, there is only 
 one thing for you. Teiupus edax re^^tim.' When he 
 had left the room — history does not tell if he received 
 a fee for this safe prescription — she said to her maid : 
 ' What did he say would be the thing for me ?' * Well,
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS 283 
 
 ma'am, I did not quite catch what the gentleman said, 
 but I think he said " edax rerum " would do you good.' 
 She sent to her chemist to have a bottle of 'edax 
 rerum ' made up. He sent some harmless mix- 
 ture of bromide and orange water, and it did her so 
 much good that she persevered in this elixir vitcB. A 
 friend happening to call, she, in answer to his inquiries, 
 told him what had done her so much good. It was 
 regarded as a fraud on the part of the chemist, who 
 was prosecuted and fined. 
 
 I was myself present at a medical man's house in 
 Paris, who had discovered, or thought he had dis- 
 covered, some wonderful cure. It consisted in inhaling 
 some gas — not explosive. In order that the patient 
 might inhale this gas, it was necessary to keep the 
 mouth open with a piece of wood. The patient had 
 not yet inhaled any gas ; the medical man was about 
 to readjust the piece of wood, when I heard her say : 
 * Oh, do not remove it ; I already feel so much 
 better !' 
 
 Enough, you will say, of these ludicrous illustrations. 
 We will think of others, not ludicrous but interesting. 
 I briefly specify them. How toothache ceases as you 
 approach the dentist's door, and think twice if, after 
 all, you need his file or forceps. Think how disease 
 may almost be brought about by mental attention 
 focussed on some one particular organ. Think of the 
 influence of hope and expectation : how the sick sink 
 or rally as words of encouragement are spoken by the 
 bedside, and how ominous looks discourage. Vomiting 
 is excited by thought. An old, blind fiddler on board 
 a steamer did his best to alleviate the victims of vial 
 de 7ner. This instrument became so associated in the
 
 284 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 mind of one of the passengers that he never afterwards 
 could hear a violin without the sensation of nausea. 
 So with the sense of taste. ' Hold your tongue !' ex- 
 claimed an irascible Frenchman ; * I cannot taste my 
 dinner for your talking.' 
 
 Are there not hysterical affections of joints ? Do 
 not medical men sometimes themselves die of the very 
 disease to which they have devoted special attention ? 
 Is not syncope brought about by certain mental states ? 
 The most pure-minded have shocked the ears of friends 
 by their impure utterances when in delirium. Recall 
 the effect of imagination on the secretion from glands, 
 of which tears or perspiration are familiar instances. 
 You have heard of the loss of a sense through fright, 
 and how ' hope deferred maketh the heart sick '; the 
 rush of blood to the cheek through affront or shame ; 
 the power of fear in sustaining rigor or cold ; joy 
 exciting the whole muscular system ; fear paralyzing ; 
 grief blanching the hair in a single night ; an unlooked- 
 for reprieve turning one expecting execution into a 
 drivelling idiot ; yawning making others yawn ; hydro- 
 phobia ; waking at will ; all the phenomena described 
 in familiar parlance by such expressions as ' the mind's 
 eye,' 'heartrending,' 'burning shame,' not to speak of 
 hypochondriacs. 
 
 Now what do all these facts exhaustively prove, 
 if it be not that matter is and can be thus acted 
 on by mind, and that our bodily organism is being 
 constantly subjected to its viewless operations ? Is 
 it not at least natural to ask the question, Can the 
 body act in a similar manner on the mind ? May 
 disease be so treated as that crime shall be lessened } 
 The dyspeptic is, as a rule, irritable. One suffering
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS 285 
 
 from suppressed gout has fault to find with everything. 
 There are instances of severe bodily injury altering 
 character. I have in my mind one suffering for years 
 from some inscrutable malady who made devoted wife 
 and children miserable by his querulousness. Why 
 should a good dinner make a churl more kindly dis- 
 posed and even more charitable, while a badly-cooked 
 meal makes him petulant ? Lazarus, wanting the very 
 necessaries of life, has more temptation to steal than 
 Dives, who fared sumptuously every day. The 
 milliner stitching all day long in an ill-ventilated work- 
 room has more temptation of its kind than her sister 
 for whom she is making the costly wedding garment. 
 The bootmaker is notoriously more liable to disaffec- 
 tion than one who wears the boots in the excitements 
 of the hunt. The dipsomaniac, with heart and liver 
 disease, commits acts of violence which the temperate 
 never commit. One in whose blood is the taint of 
 impurity commits criminal assaults which the purer 
 thinks not of. I have heard that scrofula in a family 
 may manifest itself in phthisis or immorality. Are not 
 dwarfs often ' bum.ptious ' ? The special sin of the 
 mute is sensuality. As a rule, where there is some 
 serious loss of a sense or some physical defect, there is 
 some moral defect which corresponds to it. Have not 
 the labours of Humboldt, Guyot, and others given to 
 the science of geography a more philosophical 
 character than it had once received ? Is not one of 
 the most interesting fields of speculation the inquiry 
 how far external physical conditions, the configuration 
 of the earth's surface, the distribution, outline, and 
 relative position of land and water, have influenced 
 the social life and social progress of mankind ? Do
 
 286 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 unhealthy surroundings, unsavoury drains, overcrowded 
 rooms, stimulate vicious habits ? Is dirt of body 
 favourable or unfavourable to godly living ? Can a 
 good bath, flannel, and Pears' soap in any degree im- 
 prove a man's conduct ? Is illegitimacy any result of 
 the environment of the illegitimate ? Do vice and a 
 lowered condition of vitality go hand in hand ? Why 
 should some sedentary occupation and contracted 
 energies dispose a girl to prostitution, and a man to un- 
 belief? Why do professional burglars find congenial 
 companions in slums ? Why do men covered with 
 vermin consort with thieves ? Is it true or not that 
 seasons of the year have their influence on crime ; 
 that popular insurrections, riots, apparently, are more 
 apt to occur in the spring and summer months ; suicides 
 with the unfolding or fall of the leaf; the predatory 
 instinct in winter ? Can it be established that periods 
 of prolonged epidemics have been periods of increased 
 crime ? 
 
 That thoughts such as these have flitted through 
 other minds, and are not as outrd as might at first sight 
 appear, is shown in the pages of a book entitled 
 ' Erewhon ; or. Over the Range,' by Samuel Butler. 
 The subject of this interesting book finds himself trans- 
 ported to another world, the inhabitants of which 
 regard him as we regard some antediluvian curiosity. 
 He finds opinions current there the very opposite to 
 those which obtain amongst ourselves. There, if a 
 man fall into ill-health, contracts any disease, or fails 
 physically before he is seventy, he is tried before 
 a jury of his countrymen, and, if convicted, is more or 
 less severely punished. There are divisions and sub- 
 divisions of illnesses into crimes and misdemeanours
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS 287 
 
 as there are with offences amongst ourselves. If a 
 man forges, commits arson or perjury, robs with 
 violence, or does anything regarded by us as criminal, 
 he is not sent to prison, but he is at once sent to a 
 hospital to be made well ; he is carefully nursed at the 
 public expense, and his friends are allowed freely to 
 visit and coddle him. Suffering from some severe fit 
 of immorality, he is tended with the utmost solicitude 
 and generously dieted.* Greetings in the streets as 
 amongst ourselves, ' How do you do ?' ' How are you 
 to-day ?' would be considered a sign of gross ill- 
 breeding ; to make the complimentary remark, ' How 
 well you are looking !' is in Erewhon a positive insult. 
 The greeting there is, ' I hope you are good this 
 morning,' not ' Have you used Pears' soap ?' ' I hope 
 you have recovered from the snappishness and ill- 
 temper from which I was sorry to see you suffering 
 yesterday.' If the person so accosted has not been 
 good, or is still snappish, he says so at once, and is 
 condoled with accordingly. If a person ruin his health 
 by excessive indulgence of appetite, by overeating or 
 immoderate drinking, they count this a part of mental 
 disease, pre-natal or post-natal, which brought it about, 
 
 * In the Elmira Reformatory of New York State persons con- 
 victed of crime have the comforts of a first-class boarding-school, 
 ample diet, military music, the study of Plato (!), and instruction in 
 interesting handicrafts, all being utilized in the process of amend- 
 ment. The prison becomes a moral hospital, every individual a 
 ' case ' whose cure is to be attempted, and when convalescence is 
 assured, discharged. In other words, it is not the crime which is 
 attacked, but the criminal. ' According to American views, reforma- 
 tion, rightly understood, is the physical as well as moral regenera- 
 tion of the prisoner.' — Arthur Griffiths : Secrets of the Prison 
 House.
 
 288 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 and so it goes for little ; but they have no mercy on 
 such illnesses as fever, small-pox, lung disease, and 
 colds. He was present at a trial of a man who was 
 accused of pulmonary consumption, an offence punish- 
 able with death, viewed as a capital crime. The case 
 was a very aggravated one. The accused had caught 
 cold upon cold, had had more than one attack of 
 influenza ; his hacking cough was incessant throughout 
 the trial, and every cough only the more established 
 his guilt. The prisoner seemed during the trial to be 
 at the point of death, and the wonder was that he had 
 not been convicted long ago for nearly dying. The 
 summing-up of the judge was admirable. He pointed 
 out with much indignation how the prisoner's whole 
 career was one of crime ; he regretted that one so 
 young should more than once have been committed 
 for aggravated bronchitis, and had already spent the 
 larger part of his sinful life in a gaol. The sentence 
 of death was by an act of mercy commuted to one of 
 imprisonment with hard labour for the rest of his 
 miserable existence, and during his confinement he was 
 to be kept on low diet, and to receive daily two table- 
 spoonfuls of castor oil. The Erewhons have, instead of 
 our medical men, a class whom they call 'Straighteners,' 
 which means one who ' bendeth back the crooked.' 
 They practise as medical men practise here ; they have 
 no scruples about receiving fees. They are treated with 
 the same unreserve and obeyed as readily as our own 
 doctors, because people know that it is their interest 
 to get well as soon as they can, lest they should be 
 scouted by friends and sent to prison. If a man 
 unhappily fall ill, the straightener orders him flogging 
 once a week, and a diet of bread and water for two or
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS 289 
 
 six months, as the case may be. For they believe 
 illness curable as moral disease, and that the more 
 violent forms of it should be treated with the cat-o'- 
 nine-tails or death. Death by natural causes is a 
 heinous offence, but when a man dies he is felt to be 
 beyond the arm of the law. 
 
 Such views transferred to ourselves would revolu- 
 tionize our remedial system. Our hospitals would be 
 converted into prisons, with cells for solitary confine- 
 ment, and gaolers in place of nurses. Our prisons 
 would be converted into hospitals, with clean beds, 
 good diet, unremitting care, flowers in window-sills, 
 birds in cages, and everything that could soothe and 
 comfort. Suspended over the forgers bed for the 
 nurse's guidance would be what we place over the bed 
 of the sick, and suspended over the bed of the sick 
 would be directions as to poor diet, periodical castiga- 
 tion, and doses of castor oil. The profession of the 
 medical man would no more cease than would its 
 necessity. He would have inscribed on his door, ' Dr. 
 So-and-so, Straightener,' at home between such hours 
 as he may think fit for the administering of cat-o'-nine- 
 tails or birch-rod, as the case might be. Fees would 
 still be received, only for other advice and different 
 treatment. The pharmacopoeia for the sick would be 
 altered from what we see in chemists' shops : in place 
 of the jars and bottles familiar to us, containing all 
 known and approved medicines, we should see set out 
 the gaoler's paraphernalia of cat-o'-nine-tails, birch-rods, 
 and handcuffs, and in some convenient place the ghastly 
 apparatus of the common hangman. 
 
 But now, seriously, what underlies this view of the 
 relation of disease to crime in this imagined other 
 
 19
 
 290 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 world of Erewhon ? It is that to a large extent men 
 are responsible for disease, and through it commit 
 crimes, and that, instead of punishing the result, you 
 go further back and punish the cause ; that rather 
 than condemn the consequent deed you imprison the 
 dyspeptic. The theory is that there is no fear of any 
 increase of disease if you severely punish it ; that in 
 loss of liberty within prison walls, constant surveillance, 
 sparing use of stimulants, carefully regulated diet, 
 occasional doses of castor oil, you have ample safe- 
 guards to society against criminal acts. 
 
 That some close and near relation does exist between 
 disease and crime all will admit. May not some light 
 be thrown on this subject by the physiognomy ot 
 criminals ? Have they not some physical character- 
 istics on which is based the science of ' criminal 
 anthropology,' as carried out in France, where exact 
 and detailed measurements are taken of prisoners, and 
 which we have some thought, at the suggestion of Pvir. 
 Galton, of adopting in our own prisons "^ There is a 
 criminal type of man. The criminal head, as a rule, is 
 either large or small, seldom of medium size ; it is 
 wanting in cranial symmetry, and the cranial capacity 
 is smalL The jaw is generally sharp, square, and 
 prognathous, the chin receding, the forehead also. 
 Less common features are prominent cheek-bones or 
 twisted nose, the beard and whiskers are scanty, the 
 hair of the head of vigorous growth. The large ear 
 predominates. Pallor of skin has been remarked as 
 a common trait, and wrinkles, even in the youthful 
 criminal, are seen about the more material and less 
 contemplative parts of the face. It is asserted that 
 beautiful, handsome faces, those even that are pleasing
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS 291 
 
 and well formed, are seldom seen among the ' Instinc- 
 tive ' class of criminals, who have a peculiar manner, 
 cringing and timid ways, mobility and cunning in 
 their looks, a something feline, cowardly, humble, 
 suppliant, crushed, about them. There is frequent 
 evidence of physical insensibility to pain, which may 
 have its counterpart in 77ioral insensibility. This 
 latter has been shown by criminals when brought face 
 to face with their victims. ' I kill a man,' said 
 Lacenaise, ' as I would drink a glass of wine.' Mr. 
 and Mrs. Manning, after killing O'Connor, ate a hearty 
 meal of roast goose over the spot where they had 
 buried his body. Wainwright, all night before his 
 execution, kept telling the warders in charge of him of 
 the crimes he had perpetrated, and without remorse. 
 Does not Mr. Galton associate physical characteristics 
 and crime with the impressions on wax of our finger 
 ends } How far the prevention of disease may lessen 
 crime is a question worth considering. I have studi- 
 ously endeavoured to look upon this question from, as 
 far as possible, a physical point of view as regards 
 disease and its effects. Knowing well how medical 
 science traces back ultimately to the brain and its 
 functions almost everything that has to do with con- 
 duct, and would even reduce criminal acts to its 
 deterioration, culminating in senility, or to a less acute 
 stage in lack of the power of inhibition, I have not 
 attempted to touch on the effect of religious training 
 and distinct religious influences. The case of the 
 effect of paralysis altering character seems to me to 
 show, if it does not prove, how subtle and real is the 
 connection of which I have been speaking. Of course, 
 the effect of illness is not always and invariably 
 
 19 — 2
 
 292 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 wrong-doing. On how many sick-beds do we meet 
 with the triumph of mind over matter, of suffering 
 heroically borne, of crushed leaves giving us the 
 fragrance of saintliness ! Is this a result of disease, or 
 is it in spite of disease ? ' The more the outward man 
 decayeth, the inward is renewed day by day.' Is this 
 because the lets and hindrances to saintliness which 
 a diseased condition involves are one by one 
 removed, and freer scope is given for the actings of 
 our spiritual life, or is it because pain purifies ? I 
 dare not say it is not so ; but may it not be open to 
 question how far acute physical suffering ministers 
 to devout feeling ? In the refiner's fire all of dross 
 is separated from gold and silver, but the silver and 
 the gold are with the dross in the crucible. The 
 fire does not create them. Surely the effect of some 
 prolonged illness or of some agonizing malady is 
 less the creation than the purifying of what is already 
 good. 
 
 I quite allow that I am prepared for not a little 
 criticism ; I should be disappointed if that did not 
 follow which is evidently invited. I may myself in 
 your eyes stand in immediate need of a straightener. 
 One may put down thoughts more for discussion than 
 for the purpose of establishing a theory. One is not 
 necessarily committed to a belief in what might turn 
 out fallacious or untenable. It would, to my mind, put 
 an end to all the gain that comes of free discussions 
 such as these if you felt you must not apparently 
 run a-tilt of generally held opinions without being 
 necessarily committed to what may seem untenable 
 conclusions. 
 
 But if what I say have even a soupfou of truth in
 
 A PROBLEM IN MORALS 293 
 
 it, it might have some place in the thoughts of county 
 councils, parish councils, civic authorities, in all ques- 
 tions of sanitation, of well-flushed drains, improved 
 dwellings for the poor, pure air, open spaces for 
 recreation, public baths, isolation of the diseased, 
 especial fumigation of microbe - harbouring clothes, 
 mortuaries into which at once to remove the dead. 
 It might influence magistrates in their decisions, juries 
 in their verdicts, judges in their sentences, if they bore 
 in mind what predisposing physical disorder, inherited 
 or contracted, may possibly have had to do with an 
 offence, and, without really lessening human responsi- 
 bility, may allow for a loss of the power of inhibition. 
 It might make all of us less censorious in our judg- 
 ments, more charitable in our censure on those who 
 sin, if we habitually looked on suffering and sinning 
 humanity through His eyes who ' Himself took our 
 sicknesses and bare our infirmities.' And if in this 
 present state it were as Utopian as an ideal city of 
 Hygeia to expect that either disease or crime shall 
 wholly disappear, might not the one be minimized by 
 bringing all that medical science, with its available 
 resources, can bring to bear upon the healing of the 
 other ?* In this light, not Utopian or visionary, 
 perhaps not impossible, might not medical science, 
 noble as is its mission, be nobler still, and put mankind 
 under a still deeper obligation, if the relation of disease 
 to crime were intelligently and practically considered 
 both by the profession itself and by those who practise 
 the art of healing ? 
 
 * It cannot be denied that if Elmira sends out a large percentage 
 of its pupils so far cured of their evil propensities that they will no 
 more sin against society, it has accomplished a good deal.
 
 294 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 The following books are referred to above : 
 
 Weissman on Heredity. 
 
 Lectures on Mental Disease, by Sankey. 
 
 Tuke on the Influence of the Mind on the Body. 
 
 Mason on Physical Geography Modified by Human Action. 
 
 Erewhon, by Samuel Butler. 
 
 Illegitimacy, and the Influence of the Seasons upon Conduct, by 
 
 Albert Leffingwell, M.D. 
 Secrets of the Prison House, by Arthur Griffiths.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 CLUB LIFE 
 
 This sermon on Club Life is the one alluded to in 
 my ' Phases of My Life.' Having often been asked 
 to reprint it, I have obtained the permission of the 
 Committee of the S.P.C.K. to do so. It excited 
 no little interest at the time, and I hope it may still 
 be of interest, though preached some thirty years ago. 
 
 ' Now while Paul waited for them at Athens, his spirit was stirred 
 in him, when he saw the city wholly given to idolatry. Therefore 
 disputed he in the synagogue with the Jews, and with the devout 
 persons, and in the market daily with them that met with him. 
 Then certain philosophers of the Epicureans, and of the Stoicks, 
 encountered him. And some said, What will this babbler say? 
 other some, He seemeth to be a setter forth of strange gods : 
 because he preached unto them Jesus, and the resurrection.' — Acts 
 xvii. 1 6-1 8. 
 
 About the year of our Lord 54, a vessel sailing over 
 the .^gean Sea drops her anchor in the deep waters 
 of the Piraius and disembarks a solitary Jew. Un- 
 noticed and unknown, he makes his way straight from 
 its harbour to the heart and capital of classic Greece. 
 St. Paul, fresh from the baptism of the Holy Ghost, 
 scales newly fallen from his eyes, the voice divine still 
 ringing in his ears, fired with holy zeal in his Master's 
 cause, soul all on tiame with ' constraining love of 
 
 [ 295 ]
 
 296 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Christ,' enters Athens. Athens, the university of 
 Greece and Rome ! Athens, core and centre of the 
 intellectual, political, social, worldly, luxurious life of 
 the day ! Athens, in which art and science pre- 
 eminently flourished ! Athens, in which philosophy, 
 culture, civilization, and the varied products of highly- 
 trained minds found their congenial sphere and exercise. 
 In what other centre of the world of those far-off times 
 was a larger treasure of intellectual wealth to be met 
 with than in the metropolis of Greece ? Waiting for 
 Silas and Timotheus, fellow-helpers in the Lord's work, 
 St. Paul has leisure to explore the city and to make 
 his mental comments on what on all sides invited 
 attention. In no fanatic or indiscriminating spirit — 
 not, I venture to think, in that which would be called 
 Puritan, ascetic, or austere — does he condemn the 
 achievements of genius, the masterpieces of art, the 
 supreme efforts of gifts given to be cultivated ; still 
 less does he refuse to recognise certain phases of social 
 life which are perhaps inseparable from, and the out- 
 come of, man's gregarious and consorting inclinations. 
 He looks on all he sees with the sober estimate of a 
 Christian, and with the tempered judgment of a con- 
 verted man. All that is glorious in architecture, 
 beautiful in art, graceful in conception, finished in 
 design, is not for sweeping and unsparing denunciation. 
 Of cultivated mind himself, of refined taste and no 
 ordinary power of perception, we are not to say that 
 what he beheld afforded him no aesthetic enjoyment. 
 We have no reason to think that he contemplated a 
 crusade against certain conditions of social life, as if 
 these were radically and intrinsically evil, and must be 
 plucked up root and branch. He was not enchained
 
 CLUB LIFE 297 
 
 or ensnared by the sight of what artist and sculptor 
 sought to embody. The temper and tone of his dis- 
 course on Mars' Hill is a very model of judicious and 
 loving appeal to a higher and nobler life. He who, in 
 one hour cut adrift from the past, and with eyes opened 
 on a world unseen, lifted into a new sphere of con- 
 sciousness, counted ' all things but dross for the 
 excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord,' 
 looked henceforward on the world in its true light. 
 He was no iconoclast who would shatter in pieces the 
 noblest productions of the sculptor's chisel. He would 
 not teach that Christianity and art are antagonistic 
 and irreconcilable, but he makes art itself pass 
 throuofh the strait srate of a judo-ment and criticism 
 
 O O JO 
 
 based on the same fundamental principles. The Spirit 
 of Christ applied to the creations of art, with which 
 Athens abounded, neither recognises nor allows an 
 exclusively aesthetic or purely artistic impression 
 derived from them. Divorced from, as it is capable of, 
 deep religious or moral sentiment, there is no abyss of 
 degradation into which art might not fall. It may be 
 made the vehicle, in subtle and refined guise, of all 
 that stimulates passion and ministers to what is purely 
 sensual, or it may elevate and ennoble sentiment. In 
 his way of thinking — and who would say St. Paul was 
 wrong ? — he cannot dissever art from that of which it 
 may be made the expression. In the masterpieces of 
 a Phidias or Praxiteles he sees the creations of paganism, 
 embodying passion, sustaining polytheism. That city, 
 so adorned, so magnificent, so rich in all that made a 
 Lucian, on his first visit to it, exclaim, ' I gaze with 
 wonder and rapture on all the glory,' was to the 
 judgment of St. Paul and to his saddened contemplation
 
 298 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 KUTH^ioXov, 'full of idols'; and when the religion of 
 Christ, as represented in the servant of Christ, came in 
 contact with all that made Athens world-famed, it did 
 not so much condemn as apply a standard to it. When 
 the great Apostle looked upon it, in the expressive 
 language of the more literal rendering of the Greek, 
 ' it set his spirit on edge.' 
 
 What gave this servant of the Lord a moral shock 
 and ' set his spirit on edge ? What was the impression 
 made upon his mind, and deepened by residence in 
 Athens ? In the midst of apparent ' religiousness,' 
 outward veneration for what was sacred, a superstitious 
 reverence, and multiplied places, as well as objects, of 
 devotion, they knew not, and therefore did not acknow- 
 ledge, the one only and true God. There is in every 
 heart, I believe, a profound conviction of the existence 
 of God in some or other form. The human mind, in 
 its groping after the unknown, surrounds itself with 
 idols. So it ever will, each man having his own 
 God, until the soul's truest, deepest want be met and 
 satisfied. 
 
 Rising up on high, crowning Sunium's promontory 
 with its white columns, stood the temple of Minerva, 
 her spear and shield flashing forth the sunshine, dear 
 and familiar landmark to sailors nearing the shores of 
 home. Hard-by, at the very gate of Athens, stood 
 the image of Neptunfe holding his trident. You pass 
 the temple of Ceres, and quickly the eye is arrested by 
 the statues of Jupiter, Apollo, Mercury, the Muses, 
 Bacchus, god of revelry. Passing these, St. Paul finds 
 himself in the midst of an animated scene. Temples, 
 altars, statues, surround him. Streets and public 
 squares abound. Colonnades and cloisters, decorated
 
 CLUB LIFE 299 
 
 with lavish art, invite the news-loving and gossiping 
 Athenian to seek shelter amid broad-spreading plane- 
 trees and cool, delicious fountains from burning rays of 
 summer suns or icy blasts of winter. The greater 
 part of the heart and centre of Athens was covered 
 v/ith, occupied by, the Agora, corresponding in many 
 particulars and in its object to our modern clicbs. The 
 Agora, translated 'market^ was really the centre of 
 Athenian life. Mere statesmen and orators, Conserva- 
 tives and reformers, naval and military, artists and 
 poets, travelled and recluse, wits and authors, the 
 country gentleman and man of leisure, the Epicurean 
 and Stoic, the gourmand and gamester, the celibate 
 and married, literati and pleasure-seekers, met and 
 enjoyed the society they sought. No sum was thought 
 too great to make the Agora the perfection of comfort. 
 The walls were decorated with paintings of exquisite 
 finish. Every niche was filled with a statue. A Solon, 
 Conon, Demosthenes, represented lawgivers, warriors, 
 orators. The Muses personified art and science. 
 Apollo, Venus, and Bacchus were divinities, not with- 
 out ardent and devoted worshippers. Every taste was 
 gratified, every want immediately supplied, every 
 whim respectfully humoured. Every god on -Olympus 
 answering to some idol in the Athenian heart so found 
 its representative in the Agora that the satirist re- 
 marked, ' It was easier to find a god than a man in 
 Athens.' Proud of their buildings, the Athenians vied 
 one with another to compass and command within 
 them all that was luxurious, in forms gross or refined. 
 For the more learned and studious there was the 
 ' Athenseum ' of Epicurus, with its plot of quiet garden 
 and air of seclusion, where the summmn bonujn of
 
 300 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 human existence might in faint degree be realized, in 
 the consciousness of select and tranquil pleasure. In 
 painted cloisters, frescoed with stirring scenes of wars, 
 with portraits of heroes of many a glorious battle and 
 victories renowned, others found a congenial resort. 
 Delicate dishes and perfection of culinary art gave 
 other nooks of the Agora their recommendation. A 
 Pausanias, fifty years later, scrutinized all he saw in 
 the dry spirit of an antiquarian. The mind of the 
 philosophic Cicero rested on and revelled in the Agora 
 with the satisfaction of gratified taste. The spectacle 
 filled the mind of the Christian convert with pain and 
 sadness. He saw self-indulgence encouraged, tastes 
 pampered, life lived out for this world, as if there were 
 no life to come. He saw in increasing luxury — the 
 product of increased civilization — a prophecy and 
 monitor of national decay. His eye was not blinded 
 to the reality of things. Forms of earthly beauty, 
 words of human wisdom, a life intent on softness, ease, 
 and comfort ; oblivion of the outer world and the 
 claims of fellow-creatures ; a narrowing up of expansive 
 sympathies and giving congd to conscience — for him 
 this had no charm, no attraction, no reality. In all 
 this ' The Unknown God ' was not honoured. It was 
 itself the reason why that God was unknown. The 
 symbol of the cross was not there. There was both 
 the use of what God 'so freely gives to cultivate and 
 enjoy, and there was the abuse in the multiplication of 
 idols. The conviction forced upon his mind, the over- 
 powering thought which filled his soul, was one of 
 sorrow mingled with pity, of indignation tempered 
 with regret. It seemed to be a worldliness unqualified ; 
 enjoyment of life unsanctified ; taste, habit of thought
 
 CLUB LIFE 301 
 
 unleavened — the use and the abuse, and he yearned to 
 Hft the world-loving, pleasure-seeking, idol-worshipping 
 Athenian into the consciousness of a nobler life, a more 
 consecrate spirit and grander destinies. 
 
 Bear with me whilst, strictly in connection with the 
 delicate and difficult subject assigned to me, I proceed 
 to show how certain schools of thought took their rise 
 amid such a state of society, and found in Athens a 
 natural and congenial soil for growth and fruit. The 
 religious life of a people cannot but take its tone from 
 prevailing conditions of its social life, as a stream is 
 stained with the soil of the banks through which its 
 current glides. It is in the heated atmosphere of great 
 centres, in collision of mind with mind, thought with 
 thought, that you look for the origin of sects, for 
 founders of schools of philosophy. The solitary 
 thinker in some spot far removed from intercourse with 
 the world of men attracts but little attention, inspires 
 but few disciples. It is in the great world-centres of 
 mental and intellectual activity that impulse is given to 
 questions which cannot but have a commanding interest. 
 How often it is the life that suggests the creed, not the 
 creed that governs the life. How often men believe 
 what they wish to believe, not what they are bidden 
 accept. How often their belief is the product of their 
 habits and the justification of their life. How readily 
 they embrace and acquiesce in views which harmonize 
 with their natural tendencies, and seem to insure them 
 against possible retribution. It is not so remarkable as 
 it is natural that two great schools of philosophy which 
 largely influenced the religion of Greece should have 
 been cradled and fostered in Athens. Foremost of 
 these, with which St. Paul was brought immediately
 
 302 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 into contact, was that distinguished by the title of 
 Epicurean. Ordinarily, and ignorantly, the word 
 ' epicurean ' is associated with, and limited to, the 
 voluptuary — to the man of pampered appetite and 
 indulged sense, as opposed to what is frugal, temperate, 
 and sparing. But this was the exaggeration — or, rather, 
 the possible perversion — of what Epicurus himself did 
 not practise nor intentionally encourage. The per- 
 nicious teaching, as opposed to the Gospel of Christ, 
 has its roots deeper down in those views which, carried 
 out to their legitimate consequence, would encourage 
 what is commonly understood by Epicureanism. For 
 the Epicureans were virtually atheists ; they were 
 practically unbelievers of the refined, intellectual type. 
 Their philosophy was a full-blown system of ma- 
 terialism. Epicurus adopted, if he did not originate, 
 the atomic theory, which we have lived to see revived 
 and again enunciated. Matter is from all eternity. 
 This world was not created by a Creator : it was the 
 result of the fortuitous concourse of atoms, held in 
 suspense in infinite vacuum, and forming by their con- 
 cretion and colliding the different bodies of the material 
 universe. Cosmos was a ^rand accident, and suffi- 
 ciently explained itself without reference to any higher 
 or creative power. The gods of Greece were happy 
 delusions, having no objective reality. The philosophic 
 mind recoiled from the popular mythology, and formed 
 a more satisfactory creed out of its own brain. The 
 Epicurean deity, whose existence was at least doubtful, 
 dwelt serenely apart from all things sublunary. The 
 thought of a ruling and superintending Providence was 
 simply ridiculed. There being no moral governor, 
 and, possibly, no Creator, all notions of future judg-
 
 CLUB LIFE 303 
 
 ment found no place in this creed. Inasmuch as all 
 forms of existence would be ultimately resolved into 
 their original atoms, death is practically annihilation. 
 Soul and body, mere modifications of the same atoms, 
 find a common grave. Material and immaterial are 
 figments of the imagination. There is no distinction 
 in reality. ' Let us eat and drink,' says the disciple of 
 Epicurus, ' for to-morrow we die.' As death is anni- 
 hilation, it is folly to live haunted with the thought and 
 prospect of another world and of a life beyond the 
 grave. Make, therefore, the most of the present while 
 you can enjoy it. Express for yourself all its possible 
 perfume and fragrance. It is natural to seek pleasure 
 and to avoid pain. The great object of life is, as far 
 as possible, to imitate the being who, on the summit of 
 Olympus, knows no fret or care. Avoid anything that 
 can disturb your mind or forbid tranquillity of spirit. 
 Elysium is here if you know how to make your own 
 paradise. Surround yourself with all that can minister to 
 softness, ease, and comfort. ^Pleasure is that at which 
 you must aim ; to secure that everything must be 
 sacrificed. The man of refined taste will find it in the 
 productions of art, in literary pursuits, in brilliant 
 society, or, if he prefer, in the leisurely and peaceful 
 retirement from more exciting scenes. For men of 
 coarser mould and more vitiated tastes that teaching 
 stimulated and encouraged sensuality in its grosser 
 forms. The aegis of Epicurus was thrown over all who 
 found the happiness they sought in dissipation, indo- 
 lence, effeminacy, voluptuousness. The creed justified 
 the life, as the life explained the creed. How must 
 the simple message of the Gospel have grated, as a 
 keel on a sunken rock, in the ears of the Epicurean !
 
 304 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 When the providence of God, as the active, creative 
 energy, the ruling, ordaining principle, was declared ; 
 when the atomic theory and a government of blind 
 chance was disclaimed ; when the life of self-denial, 
 ' crucifixion of the flesh with its affections and lusts,' 
 was, without shadow of compromise, insisted on, and 
 instead of a hopeless annihilation and practical extinc- 
 tion of soul and body, Jesus and the Resurrection was 
 preached, can we not well understand one Epicurean 
 saying to another in the Agora, ' He seemeth to be a 
 setter forth of strange gods '? 
 
 But this was not the only school leavening society 
 with its teaching which also throve and brought forth 
 fruit at Athens. It was an age of restless inquiry. 
 Groping, unconsciously to themselves, after ' the truth 
 as it is in Jesus,' professors and idlers were not 
 unwilling listeners to anything that even a ' babbler ' 
 might let fall. It might afford seed for intellectual dis- 
 quisition, scoffing scorn, or justification for a life ill at 
 ease with itself in its best and truest moods. Stoicism 
 was not without attraction. In the high tone of the 
 school of Zeno it approached the truth in acknowledg- 
 ment of a supreme governor of the universe, and con- 
 travened it in the pantheism which it anticipated. To 
 the Stoic God was merely the spirit or reason of the 
 universe, the informing mind — what the soul is to the 
 body. He was everywhere, and yet He was nowhere. 
 The universe is God. Matter is inseparable from 
 Him. All souls are direct emanations from Him, and 
 would finally be absorbed in Him, as rivers mingle 
 their waters with the ocean, as rays are recalled at 
 eventide unto a sinking sun. God Himself was only 
 another name for Kismet, Fate, Destiny. Reason was
 
 CLUB LIFE 305 
 
 the noblest part of Nature. All must be submitted to 
 its test and crucible. To the wise all outward things 
 are alike. Pleasure is no good ; pain is no evil. He 
 who lives according to reason cannot but live well. 
 He has and is all. Stern and strict in their view of 
 morality, they needed, as they looked for, nothing 
 more. Akin to their Jewish representative, the Phari- 
 see, they were gods to themselves in their boasted 
 self-sufficiency. No high motive was set before the 
 Stoic, for life ended on this side the grave ; it had not 
 for him the promise or hope of immortality. The 
 proud ideal of humanity was a magnanimous self- 
 denial, austere apathy, sympathies ' cribbed, cabined, 
 and confined.' All revolved round self. What can 
 we imagine more contrary to the genius and spirit of 
 Christianity ? The morality of the Stoic was founded 
 on pride ; the morality of Christianity on humility. 
 The one system maintained individual independence, 
 the other absolute dependence on another. The one 
 found consolation in the thought of inevitable destiny, 
 the other in a living, loving Saviour. The one had no 
 recipe for sin save sharp austerities, the other found a 
 remedy in the cleansing blood of One who died for 
 sinners. The stern indifference of the Stoic is set in 
 contrast with the large and loving sympathy of One 
 who ' sticketh closer than a brother.' The sublime 
 egotism which looks on human weakness with con- 
 tempt is compared with the creed that bids us ' bear 
 one another's burden, and so fulfil the law of Christ.' 
 How must the simple message of the Gospel have 
 grated also on the ears of a Stoic, and directly con- 
 tradicted his boasted philosophy ! Instead of a pan- 
 theistic, vague diffusion of power and order, a loving, 
 
 20
 
 3o6 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 personal God of love was preached. Instead of iron 
 destiny, in which men might find a plea for anything 
 in faith or practice, a watchful Providence was declared. 
 Instead of that self-righteousness which looks for 
 nothing beyond, godly sorrow for sin, and lively faith 
 in Him who alone can save ; and when in the general 
 chaos of thought, product of unaided reason, and 
 medley of unenlightened cogitation on the future, and 
 crude speculation concerning the hereafter without 
 revelation's light, life was limited by periods of cosmical 
 change or ruin, as against the annihilation theory of the 
 Epicurean and the absorption theory of the Stoic, can 
 we not well understand that when St. Paul preached 
 that na.xne. Jesus, name above every name, in which, as 
 we believe in it, all our eternal welfare centres, and the 
 personal Resurrection, in which is implied personal 
 identity retained, and a personal arraignment on the 
 day appointed before the great white throne, to be 
 adjudged for all things done in the body, whether good 
 or bad, one Stoic would nudge another and say, as they 
 listened in the Agora, ' He seemeth to be a setter forth 
 of strange gods.' 
 
 I have taken this more -general view of the social 
 and quasi-religious life of Athens as introductory to 
 the special subject of which I have to treat, because it 
 seems to me impossible to view the two apart. The 
 social and religious life of a people act and react the 
 one upon the other. The estimate a man takes of life 
 and of the habits which grow out of that estimate cannot 
 but give colour and complexion to his creed in dog- 
 matic and practical aspects. It does really matter in 
 what god a man believes, for his character must bear 
 traces of, must hold, as it were, his faith in solution.
 
 CLUB LIFE 307 
 
 And history repeats itself. The habits of mankind do 
 not, in civilized countries, materially differ. Human 
 thought revolves round much the same questions, and 
 given certain conditions of outward life, we look for 
 much the same results as affects belief and practice. It 
 is not difficult to bridge over the gulf of years, and for 
 the metropolis of Greece to substitute the metropolis 
 of England. If not her equal in grace and beauty, 
 London is not behind Athens in material and intellec- 
 tual wealth and in the familiar evidences of a high 
 degree of civilization. We, too, have our temples, 
 altars, shrines — all that to outward eye bespeaks 
 veneration for religion. Here in the centre of the 
 world's life, and in this immediate neighbourhood, 
 within which this parish church is situate, have we not 
 a faithful transcript of the Agora of days gone by ? 
 This parish is the special habitat of — it may almost be 
 said to be monopolized by — clubs. Nine-tenths of 
 these institutions have gravitated here. So, great, also 
 is the increase within the last few years, even since my 
 own ministry in this parish, that a well-known weekly 
 periodical, in a valuable and thoughtful article on the 
 subject, speaks of this increase of clubs as a ' curious 
 epidemic ' whose irresistible contagion is now threaten- 
 ing the East of London. On all sides we find traces 
 of the ' mania.' Scarcely a month passes but some 
 new club is announced. Family mansions, houses of 
 artistic or historic interest, are transformed into what 
 some call ' gigantic hotels.' I use the word advisedly, 
 for there is little doubt that the quondam character and 
 old notion of a club is fast undergoing a radical change. 
 Modern clubs are described as ' a slightly modified 
 form of the public-house,' the 'miscellaneous mob of 
 
 20 — 2
 
 3o8 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 an overcrowded caravanserai.' This description may- 
 be true or false, it may even savour of vindictive 
 feeling, yet such are the epithets applied. The change 
 in character, from the exclusiveness which some of the 
 older clubs still preserve to the almost unquestioning 
 facilities afforded for membership, may have its root in 
 a growing democratic spirit and in the fact that clubs 
 are now set on foot and managed by companies. If 
 they are becoming proprietary and of profitable specula- 
 tion, then there is practically no limit which can be 
 assigned to their increase. At first sight it may seem 
 a strange and incongruous topic for a Christian pulpit ; 
 but anyone on reflection must see that club life, so 
 largely on the increase, the outcome of our social, 
 cannot well be viewed apart from its relation to the 
 religious life of a people. It is the world in one form, 
 which doubtless has its use, which doubtless may be 
 abused. Some think a club the perfection of civilized 
 life ; some think it the reverse. To consider clubs as 
 an unmixed evil, essentially mischievous, were grave 
 folly. To speak of them as unmixed good, essentially 
 beneficial, were equal folly. In treating the subject it 
 will be my endeavour to laok upon them as liable to 
 excess in things lawful. 
 
 It were difficult to assign the origin of clubs, and to 
 say when they first took their rise. If the derivation 
 of the word be correct, from the Anglo-Saxon word 
 meaning to cleave, club expresses the inborn tendency 
 of man to associate and form into communities. The 
 essayist may be slightly satirical who says ' that all 
 celebrated clubs ' — he speaks of the earlier — ' were 
 founded on eating and drinking, which are points 
 where most men agree, and in which the learned and
 
 CLUB LIFE 309 
 
 unlearned, the dull and the airy, the philosopher and 
 the buffoon, can all bear a part.' We may, I suppose, 
 affirm that clubs are, if not positively necessary, yet so 
 convenient for political and social purposes that we 
 can hardly conceive society without them. They are, 
 in their different objects, so worked up into the habits, 
 tastes, and comforts of our educated and refined classes, 
 that whoever denounced and indiscriminately abused 
 them could not but be looked upon as insane or 
 malevolent. Political clubs are a necessity of the 
 present day. Scientific clubs with kindred affiliation 
 could not be dispensed with. Travellers may naturally 
 seek a common terminus. Men of the same profession 
 will seek one another's society. The older institutions 
 will have their children, and the parent tree will send 
 out the sprouts and offshoots of junior clubs. One 
 club in particular, rightly or wrongly called the ' Char- 
 tered Libertine,' meets the wants of a large class who 
 would have no claim to, or ground of, admission else- 
 where. A club is a real comfort and advantag-e to a 
 large section of society. It presents a combination of 
 all classes, opinions, pursuits, professions, quite un- 
 precedented. It gives opportunities of intercourse with 
 men most famed in all walks of life. It is Epicurus' 
 quiet nook, a leisurely lounge, a grateful rest from the 
 strain of active life, accorded even to the more exalted 
 in station or privileged in qualification of clergy, who 
 as a rule are not warmly welcomed in clubs. And who 
 will deny the great attraction of a club ? To be 
 brought thus in contact with the best-informed or most 
 cultivated, to have access to all the refinements of life 
 and facilities of intercourse with what is of admiration 
 and interest — who by circumstances excluded from this
 
 3IO ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 does not chafe under the privation ? And though it be 
 true that we do not Hve for these things, yet they have 
 their charm ; they give, in their way, a zest to life, and 
 Hft it out of its commonplaces and even its monotony. 
 All, aofain, are agreed that clubs have their value in 
 attracting our young- men from questionable society 
 and coarser pleasures. The tone, as a rule, of a club 
 is higher than in the days gone by. There is a certain 
 recognised discipline and consensus of restraint. To 
 belong to a club is a guarantee in itself against any- 
 thing, outwardly at least, that is inconsistent with the 
 conduct of an English gentleman ; any offence against 
 good-breeding or accepted rules of society would be 
 promptly resented with expulsion. All this is un- 
 doubtedly to be said in favour of clubs and their advan- 
 tages. Some would go farther. They would say it is 
 very natural for one of comparatively limited means 
 that he should seek to command all that a club brings 
 within the compass of his income. The society is 
 certain ; the club offers every form of variety at all 
 hours, and without the vexation of restraint. All tastes 
 are gratified. The collegiate, the literary, find journals, 
 periodicals, publications without stint. The sensuous is 
 not overlooked, for the buildings are palatial, carpets 
 are soft, chairs and sofas invite repose ; liveried 
 servants are numerous, sharp, and attentive ; eatables 
 and drinkables are of the best quality and at a low 
 price ; and oh ! earthly paradise, all this may be 
 enjoyed for a small annual payment by one brought 
 up as a child amongst very different circumstances, 
 and with a certainty which men of large income could 
 not assure. Is there no advantage, says the man of 
 three or five hundred a year, in all this? Compare
 
 CLUB LIFE 311 
 
 such advantages, such luxuries, such conveniences, 
 with life passed in a dingy, dreary, scantily furnished 
 lodging, with meals indifferently prepared and slovenly 
 served, in the total absence of all pleasure, unless a 
 man have a mine of resources in himself and is, what 
 is rarely to be found, independent of others for giving 
 life interest and charm ! 
 
 For the bachelor a club is home. Even for the 
 married, if his wife should happen to turn out dull or 
 unamiable, querulous and nagging, of no real com- 
 panionship in the great interests of life, unpractical, 
 and a bad manager, the temptation is great to take 
 refuge from dulness in social intercourse, from queru- 
 lousness in cheerfulness, from the fret of home in the 
 serene atmosphere of obsequious attention, from meals 
 indifferent and uninviting in a table delicately and 
 invitingly prepared. A club is a question in which 
 women, married and unmarried, are concerned. If 
 home, which should be the one spot on earth to which 
 a man fondly turns, be that from which he fondly 
 turns, then there must be something radically wrong in 
 our social life. Who can doubt that club life largely 
 and materially affects domestic life ? It affects what 
 are called the ' preliminaries of married life.' Marriage 
 ranks only second to the ordinance of the Sabbath. 
 It is the natural state of manhood and womanhood. 
 The celibate life on either side is unnatural. It may 
 be that young men are scared from the thought of 
 marriage by the extravagances of fashion, and by a 
 wholesome dread of incurring expenses they cannot 
 meet. They know how to live with their present 
 means ; they do not know what marriage may entail. 
 If parents make up their minds that a certain income
 
 312 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 is hopelessly necessary, and that happiness is only 
 secured by a certain style of living, the blame rests 
 with themselves if men of moderate wishes shrink from 
 what would be honourably incompatible with their 
 means. If, again, mothers are of opinion that there is 
 something menial, if not degrading, in the thought that 
 their daughters should be good housewives, if they 
 will not believe that, instead of bestowing so much 
 attention on the cultivation of accomplishments and 
 devotion to follies, it were better a little more attention 
 were paid to the simple details of housekeeping, they 
 must not wonder if men stand aloof from a state of life 
 which, when its halcyon days are over, may eventuate 
 in one of trouble, anxiety, and care. And who would 
 say that this is altogether and purely a selfish view of 
 life ? At least, let us give it credit for what it is worth. 
 It may sound reasonable or plausible when it is urged 
 that club life is to be credited with preventing early 
 and improvident matrimonial engagements; still, is there 
 no danger in the fact that such a life encourages and 
 stimulates, on the part of our young men, luxurious 
 tastes and selfish habits, which, if they do not make 
 them dainty and effeminate,' tend to that fastidiousness 
 and self-indulgence which will make it hard for them 
 to reconcile or submit themselves to the privation, as 
 they may come to think it, of a future and permanent 
 home ? Luxury, spldndour, the high society of clubs 
 is a great temptation, as it is not calculated to qualify 
 a man for the plainness, simplicity, and monotony of 
 married life, and for that self-denial and contentment 
 with the state in which God has placed us, on which 
 our own and the happiness of others so largely and so 
 simply depends. Husbands, also, are exposed to the
 
 CLUB LIFE 313 
 
 same temptation of forgetting the dignities, sanctities, 
 and obligations of that married Hfe which a wife, be 
 she amiable or unamiable, cheerful or dull, has a 
 right to expect, that he should remember to whom 
 she gave her hand. Not one of the least of the 
 evils, or, if you will, what may be called the abuse 
 of club life, consists in a selfish habit of life engen- 
 dered, and a style of living contracted, in many 
 cases not in keeping with our private means, and 
 unfitting for the comparative privations of home. 
 We will not call this a minor evil, though it be the 
 first touched upon. 
 
 Is it not a fact that clubs afford great and peculiar 
 facilities for gambling and for drinking ? There are, 
 of course, exceptions. Is it not notorious that in some 
 large sums of money are staked, lost, and won? Is 
 not this a vice too serious, too fraught with all the evils 
 you can imagine, not to be discouraged ? Is it not 
 within control and of even positive prohibition ? May 
 not clubs be held responsible for the marked and 
 deplorable increase in gambling ? Are not fatal 
 facilities, together with an air of semi-respectability, 
 given to that refined habit of wine-bibbing which, un- 
 checked, prepares the way for a ruinous habit of in- 
 temperance ? Is this uncontrollable by law or rule ? 
 Is it not true that clubs profess to have no conscience ? 
 The aggregate, co-operative principle has destroyed 
 all sense of individual responsibility. It is not simply 
 shaken off : it has never been felt. There is a prac- 
 tical isolation from all charitable and religious efforts on 
 the plausible, but I venture to suggest flimsy, ground 
 that the income of a club does not admit of disposal 
 to objects extraneous to itself ; and this notwithstand-
 
 314 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 ing the fact, as I know from the eleven years' 
 experience of my own district in this immediate 
 neighbourhood, that a large and particular portion of 
 our poorer classes are attracted by the clubs to 
 St. James's parish, and thus a burden is thrown on the 
 resources of a particular parish, unrecognised and un- 
 lightened by the very agency by which the burden has 
 been largely created. Club life is an aspect of society 
 which naturally suggests itself as one topic to be dealt 
 with in connection with such a theme as ' the use and 
 abuse of the world.' I am speaking from the observation 
 of eleven years, having had not a few opportunities, 
 St. Philip's Chapel being an offshoot of this mother 
 parish church, and from an earnest conviction that the 
 position taken up by clubs in this matter is practically 
 indefensible. Why should a large society of men 
 agree to live in a particular part of London, and com- 
 placently acquiesce in ignoring the claim that the very 
 fact of their presence palpably and fairly establishes ? 
 Are the rules which forbid subscription to parochial 
 charities in the name and on behalf of a club really 
 like the laws of the Medes and Persians ? is it so 
 that no pressure can be brought to bear upon standing 
 committees of clubs by members who are of different 
 and more healthy opinion, or may it not be that secre- 
 taries and committers only want the support and 
 countenance of members to do what conscience and 
 every sense of obligation to a neighbourhood tells 
 them is right and reasonable ? And as regards the 
 great world outside club walls, of poverty, and priva- 
 tion, and distress, might we not use the argumentum ad 
 homineni ? Is it creditable, to put it on the lowest 
 grounds, is it calculated to raise the upper in the
 
 CLUB LIFE 315 
 
 estimation of the lower classes, that there should be 
 such centres of luxury, one of whose laws or bye-laws 
 is, ' We recognise as a body no parish and no charities ? 
 Could not facilities be afforded in every club for the 
 voluntary subscriptions of individual members? Is it 
 too much to ask that those opportunities should be 
 placed in the salons of the club — nay, throughout them 
 — in the form of boxes and books kept for the entry of 
 names, and care taken that these were always placed 
 where they could readily be found, and where they 
 would not fail to be seen ? 
 
 Is there not, in the majority of clubs, as a conse- 
 quence of this irresponsibility, a disregard of, and in- 
 difference to, the spiritual interests of those employed 
 in their service ? The reply to this may be, ' Not 
 more so than in many private establishments.' Is this 
 therefore a reply ? Servants of clubs have souls to be 
 saved, as they have whom they serve. Is it creditable 
 to any large body of men, holding some veneration for 
 religion, that they should be practically indifferent to 
 the spiritual well-being of their fellow-creatures ? Is 
 it wild and utterly unreasonable to expect that every 
 reasonable facility should be afforded servants in clubs 
 for attending a place of worship, that rules or bye-laws 
 should be framed which shall at least show that a com- 
 mittee is not oblivious of the spiritual interests of those 
 employed, many of whom, now isolated from home, 
 once enjoyed free access to all means of grace ? Is it 
 pre-eminently ridiculous, only what a clergyman would 
 conceive, that a secretary, at an early and convenient 
 hour, should gather together as many as possible of the 
 household for a few still moments of prayer ? Facilities 
 were accorded to me for visiting one or two of the
 
 3i6 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 clubs, and for gathering together a few servants for 
 a short Bible-class, and rare as these opportunities 
 were, they were much prized and gratefully embraced. 
 It may even excite a smile when I proceed to say 
 that habitues of clubs, lodging within easy reach of 
 them, should or might devote a portion of Sundays, 
 listlessly and wearily spent, in teaching in a Sunday- 
 school. I almost fancy 1 hear the laugh such a pro- 
 posal excites : ' Fancy a habitue of a club a Sunday- 
 school teacher !' Who but a clergyman would gravely 
 suggest it ? Yet some of our greatest and noblest, as 
 well as men of most laborious lives, are adorning their 
 walk in life, being found, Sunday after Sunday, teach- 
 ing the children of the poor. What is ridiculous in 
 suggesting work for God ? If the idea be scouted and 
 not for a moment entertained ; if instead of a holy 
 observance of God's holy day a club must be a place 
 of resort on Sunday, supremely dull, flat, and insipid 
 as compared with week-day stir and life, is it an im- 
 pertinence or liberty to suggest that, for the sake of 
 appearances, for very decorum and decency's sake, a 
 stumbling-block be not put in the way of the working 
 classes, for whose observance of the Sabbath we are 
 always legislating, and whose liberty many would 
 restrict ; that members of clubs should not be seen by 
 every passer-by leisurely reading their papers during 
 the hours, sometimes, of Divine service, and thus openly 
 desecrating God's holy day ? Surely, whatever our 
 own opinions or habits may be, we do owe something 
 to others. 
 
 When I recall to mind the wretchedness, misery, 
 want of all kinds, the degradation of thousands of our 
 fellow-men, and that within a stone's-throw even of
 
 CLUB LIFE 317 
 
 this luxurious and wealthy district ; when I think of 
 the many who have not the necessaries of life, and 
 are eking out a bare existence, pining for a word of 
 sympathy, grateful for some little act of thoughtful 
 kindness, languishing on sick-beds, with few or no 
 comforts, silently bearing the burden of decent 
 poverty, to whom a friendly word and loving deed 
 of sympathy is as cheering sunshine, I wonder 
 how men with human hearts and with leisure time 
 at command can be content to sit listlessly in easy- 
 chair or lounging window, wasting precious hours which 
 might be so much more profitably, so much more 
 happily, spent ! How can we bring ourselves, immortal 
 beings, endowed with varied gifts, capable of consecra- 
 tion to the highest ends, with wealth, position, time, 
 influence — how can we bring ourselves to call that life 
 well spent thus spent ? How can we call that life 
 which finds satisfaction in the routine of laborious 
 pleasure-seeking? How is it not frittered away in late 
 rising ; mornings occupied with little or no serious occu- 
 pation ; afternoon elaborate dressing for familiar places 
 of resort ; the intervals between this or that social 
 pleasure filled up with ennui, or meals inordinately 
 prolonged ! Alas ! what a ivasted life many men and 
 women lead ; and such as these have within themselves, 
 if they care to believe it, and if the heart were quickened 
 by the constraining love of Christ, and the prayer for 
 grace to use them aright, near and golden opportunities, 
 which will never be their own again, of making the 
 world better, hearts lighter, homes sunnier. The 
 ' Society for the Relief of Distress ' was founded on 
 the hope, if not on the assumption, that many members 
 of clubs, with time at their command, would find glad
 
 3i8 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 and grateful employment in visiting the poor, helping 
 in suppressing mendicancy, and bringing men of 
 influence, prospects, and practical knowledge into more 
 immediate contact with the real wants of the lower 
 classes. Has this hope been realized ? 
 
 To how many does this sound Utopian — shall I say 
 ideal ? How many will say, ' It is natural he should, 
 from his standpoint as a minister of Christ, say all 
 this'? How many say, ' He seemeth to be a setter 
 forth of strange gods ' ? and that with church spires 
 rising up around us on every side, and the facts of 
 Christianity advertising to the so-called heathen w^orld 
 that we are a religious people — a Christian nation. 
 Has the pulpit no message, no scope, no theme here, 
 not for violent declamation, indiscriminating abuse, 
 rabid tirade, but for calm, sober, faithful appeal ? If 
 the avowed unbeliever turns to such account the grave 
 inconsistencies of apparent veneration for religion and 
 apparent disregard of its obligations that 'he strengthens 
 himself thereby in his wickedness '; if the literary cynic 
 brands our ' modern Christianity as a civilized heathen- 
 dom,' may not a minister of our Lord and Saviour 
 Jesus Christ, who shed His- life-blood on the cross that 
 we might be saved, lift up a voice of remonstrance or 
 persuasion, as once was lifted up in ears of Pharisee 
 and Sadducee in the streets and synagogues of Jeru- 
 salem, as a voice was lifted up in the ears of Epicurean 
 and Stoic in the Agora at Athens ? May not he point 
 out and warn against the inevitable tendencies of a life 
 spent in the main as Epicureans spent it ? May he not 
 point out and warn against the practical effects of that 
 modernized Stoicism which looks for nothing beyond 
 itself ? Are there no Epicureans in our day ? In our
 
 CLUB LIFE 319 
 
 deliberations on politics, leading articles of our press, 
 legislation for the people, in our conversation in 
 political clubs and animated discussion, is there an 
 habitual recognition of an overrulmg Providence, of a 
 supei'ijitending God? Have we no materialists, with 
 their dreary creed? Have we no men of refined 
 tastes who are of the refined type of unbelievers ? 
 They are making this world, unsatisfying at best, their 
 all, trying hard to persuade themselves and others that 
 revelation is a pleasing delusion, that supernatural 
 religion is priestly invention, that nothing is real but 
 what we see, their life bounded by sense, making 
 avowedly the most of it while it lasts, spending it as 
 taste or whim inclines, to whom the grave may, for all 
 they care, be annihilation and death extinction, and 
 eternity an awful plunge in the dark, or haply no 
 reality ! And yet are not such as these haunted with 
 convictions of which they cannot altogether rid them- 
 selves ? Is there not the altar to the Unknown God in 
 the secret of their longings or suspicions ? But it stands 
 without any fire lighted on it, without any sacrifice 
 offered upon it, because pleasure, fortune, fame, 
 ambition, mere earthly pursuit, is the god they really 
 worship ; not the God, the only true God, in whose 
 image they have been created, by whose goodness they 
 are momentarily preserved, by whose love in Christ 
 they have been redeemed, and who, by creation and 
 by redemption, has the first claim on all we have and 
 on all we are — to whom the immortal spirit must one 
 day return, at whose white throne the great account 
 must one day be given, in that awful day ' in the which 
 He will judge the world in righteousness by that Man 
 whom He hath ordained.' Does not the life of
 
 320 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 Epicurean pleasure explain the creed, and can you not 
 imagine a man adopting, even against his best and 
 truest convictions, any theory, old or cast in modern 
 mould, if only it seem to excuse and justify his worldly 
 life ? 
 
 And have we no Stoics in the present day — fatalists, 
 believing in inevitable destiny, content, as they say, to 
 take their perilous chance ? Have we none who boast 
 of the powers of reason, rejecting what does not com- 
 mend itself to it, resting on a morality which makes the 
 cross of Jesus of none effect, practising a self-denial 
 which is not the surrender of the heart, conscious of 
 indwelling sin, yet not looking to the cross for pardon, 
 with enough of belief to make them miserable, and 
 yet not enough to make their faith a power? Have we 
 not men self-satisfied and looking for nothing beyond 
 themselves, with sympathies contracted and generous 
 kindliness frozen in their veins, who disclaim the 
 thought of brotherhood, and who, having never realized 
 their own need of a Saviour, and having never felt His 
 great love, have never made that one grand surrender 
 of the heart to Christ which is the secret of life spent 
 to His glory ? Will not sOch as these acquiesce in, as 
 they welcome, any theory, new or revived, which would 
 hold out the possibility of absorption into Deity, the 
 happy solution of whatever life ; which cuts from 
 under us any high motive for an earnest life ; which 
 seems, as it rids us of personal responsibility, to justify 
 our ignoring the claims of our fellow-creatures ; which 
 helps to persuade us that the aVoffra ate, the Resurrection, 
 is figurative, judgment to come an idle tale ? Oh ! if 
 the voice of one who has faced death and almost 
 looked into eternity from the brink of the grave can
 
 CLUB LIFE 321 
 
 persuade ; if the assurance of one who has stood by 
 hundreds of death-beds can prevail ; if what we profess 
 to beheve and venerate be, after all, sterling and true — 
 the orreat verities of revelation no ' babbler's ' oruess, 
 but stern, awful, all-important reality ; if it be true that 
 life is not bounded by the grave and death is not 
 extinction, and that a life is }et before us, shoreless 
 and endless, for which this is but the probation and 
 vestibule : if in His infinite mercy God has given His 
 Son to die for us, lost and perishing ; if the sense of 
 accountableness, of which no man can altogether rid 
 himself, be but a perpetual unfulfilled prophecy within 
 us of a judgment-seat, and fight or struggle as we may 
 with convictions, if they point, as needle to the pole, to 
 our truest and eternal interests, shall we not see to it 
 that we so use the world as not abusing it ? Shall we 
 not see to it that we do not seek satisfaction in what 
 can never satisfy ; that we frame not creeds for our- 
 selves, and fit our life to the frame of the creed we wish 
 to be our own ; that we do not make idols of what God 
 gives us temperately and soberly to enjoy ; that we do 
 not pay homage to any god but the one who has a right 
 to our highest homage, and that we be not content to 
 face death without Christ and eternity without hope ? 
 Oh, see to it, for your soul's sake, that you are not 
 deluding yourself with baseless theories ; with hopes 
 which have no foundation save in secret wishes ; with 
 vague notions which a death-bed and a death-hour will 
 dissipate as a dream when one awaketh ! Pray we that 
 the eyes of our understanding may be enlightened, that 
 we may look on life in its true light, on ourselves as 
 God sees us, on death as the gate opening on happiness 
 or misery, on eternity as setting the seal to perdition 
 
 21
 
 322 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 or salvation. And, O God, give us by Thy Spirit so 
 to know Him Whom truly to know is everlasting life 
 that all our hopes may be centred in Jesus ; that a love 
 of Thee may constrain to a life in every sphere more 
 dedicate, more consecrate, and give to us such an 
 indwelling of Thy Spirit that, under His guidance and 
 in His help, we may so pass through things temporal 
 that we finally lose not the things eternal !
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET, AND ODD DOINGS AND 
 SAYINGS 
 
 In this concluding chapter I am recalling odd people I 
 have from time to time met, odd doings and odd 
 sayings. This much I can say, that I can vouch for 
 the absolute truth of what I write, and of instances of 
 ' oddity ' within my own actual experience. There are 
 thousands of 'odd' people outside asylums (I do not 
 include ' Odd-Fellows'). They do no harm, but they 
 are odd, exceptional, eccentric in their ways and 
 sayings. They amuse more than they annoy. They 
 have peculiar habits, are known and tolerated as 
 ' oddities.' People say, ' Oh, don't mind them ; you 
 know, he ' (or she, as the case may be) ' is known to 
 be very odd,' as an excuse for most decided eccen- 
 tricity. 
 
 If you ever find yourself amused by them, it is not 
 laughing a^ them nor making merry, at their expense, 
 of some peculiarity or infirmity of mind, but the 
 humorous side ' tickles you.' 
 
 In the course of my ministry I have visited a great 
 many lunatic asylums. In some cases I have had 
 to do so, as in Paris ; in other cases never out of 
 curiosity or any morbid desire to see those whom it 
 
 [ 323 ] 21 — 2
 
 324 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 has pleased God to afflict with either chronic insanity 
 or temporary lunacy, but in quest of certain problems 
 which have always had a peculiar fascination for me. 
 One of these is whether or not lunatics recover their 
 reason in the supreme hour of life. Such cases are, I 
 believe, few. During my ministry in Paris part of my 
 work was to visit the principal hospitals, prisons, and 
 asylums in which our countrymen were placed. This 
 gave me early in life an insight into the French system 
 of treating sick folk, prisoners, and alid7ids. I have 
 visited asylums in Germany ; I have spent many a 
 day with Dr. Hood of Bethlehem Hospital, and have 
 more than once visited Hanwell. I spent a long day at 
 Morningside Asylum, near Edinburgh, and have been 
 over the leading asylums in New York. The principal 
 asylums in Paris are Charenton, St. Anne, The Hos- 
 pice de Bicetre and Hospice de la Veillesse, or La 
 Salpetriere. Bicetre is specially interesting as the 
 hospital where Pinet first introduced the more humane 
 treatment of the deranged, which, thank God ! now 
 prevails in asylums generally. La Salpetriere is well 
 known as associated with the late Professor Charcot, 
 the high-priest, as he might be called, of Hypnotism, 
 where this phenomenon is studied not for amusement, 
 but from a scientific point of view. I have spent more 
 than one day there with Charcot. I suppose nowhere 
 could you find a more remarkable concentration of 
 women afflicted with extraordinary psychical maladies. 
 The French humour their lunatics and insane, and to 
 a certain extent indulge them in their eccentricities and 
 delusions. They do not irritate them by contradiction. 
 If a man thinks himself to be, e.g., the Emperor of 
 China, they let him think so. It does no one any
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 325 
 
 harm ! This hospital has nearly 4,000 beds, and its 
 inmates are treated with the utmost kindness and care. 
 It was a curious experience which I had there. I was 
 alone for about ten minutes in an exercising yard, 
 surrounded by some hundred women, all insane ! But 
 presence of mind goes a long way under these trying 
 circumstances. Poor souls ! they were gibbering and 
 grimacing, and telling me who they were, and each 
 with some different delusion, so that I was greatly 
 relieved when Charcot appeared on the scene ! 
 
 Presence of mind on another occasion came to my 
 help when visiting, with my friend Sir Thomas Hare, 
 Mr. Villebois' pack of hounds near Sandringham. I 
 was left for a few minutes alone in the paddock. I 
 had a biscuit in my pocket. A splendid specimen of a 
 foxhound scented this, and in a few minutes the whole 
 pack surrounded me. I was perfectly prepared to 
 sacrifice my luncheon to them, as parents have thrown 
 their children to a pack of wolves, but I felt I dare 
 not stir or sound an alarm lest I should provide myself, 
 gratis, as a toothsome luncheon to them. I was, as 
 my dear uncle, Dr. Smith, said when he found him- 
 self about to sit down to eat his luncheon on a hornet's 
 nest — ' I was in a position of very great danger.' 
 
 I have never known any sense of fear in visiting an 
 asylum. I confess a creepy feeling came over me when 
 Dr. Hood took me through the ward at Bethlehem — 
 since done away with — of those who were homicidal 
 maniacs, and who will of a sudden make a frenzied 
 attack on their warders. He asked me to do no more 
 than pass through without noticing them. In New 
 York women who have the homicidal mania have their 
 arms put in large bolsters. It looked rather comic,
 
 326 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 but thus 'bolstered' they could do no harm. In 
 Wakefield Asylum a woman raved and screamed when 
 I came in ; she vowed she would do all sorts of awful 
 things if she could only get hold of me. She was seized 
 with an insane dislike to me. She had that peculiar 
 frizzle hair of which Darwin, in his book on the 
 ' Expression of the Emotions,' writes, and of which he 
 gives illustrations. Most of the illustrations in Darwin's 
 book are taken from typical cases in Wakefield 
 Asylum, and my sworn enemy is amongst them. A 
 man who fancied himself a naval commander paced 
 at Hanwell the corridor with a wisp of straw round 
 his waist, and knocked me aside, bidding me not walk 
 on the quarter-deck without saluting him. I at once 
 apologized ; but it is rather difficult to refrain from 
 a smile. 
 
 I was co-trustee with Admiral Boyle for a young 
 woman who was at one of the French asiles. Her 
 delusion was that she was very beautiful. How filled 
 our asylums might be with women labouring under 
 that delusion ! She lived in a world of flattery. We 
 had occasion to call, and to certify that she was alive. 
 On our way Admiral Boyle reminded me of the French 
 system of indulging delusions, and that I must express 
 my unbounded admiration of her. She was prepared 
 for our visit, and had ' put on her best.' She was tall 
 and graceful but not beautiful. She had arrayed her- 
 self in a gorgeous garment of bright blue, with very 
 long skirt, and had placed a very bright star on her 
 forehead. 
 
 ' Now, then, Pigou. begin,' said the Admiral. I 
 was only about twenty-five years of age, and at some 
 disadvantage. Blushingly and tremulously, I said:
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 327 
 
 * You are looking very well to-day.' Brushing me 
 aside, and cutting in like a man of war, he said : 
 ' Looking well ! You are out and out the most 
 lovely, exquisite, heavenly creature I have ever seen!' 
 Poor soul ! she was not at all overcome by this, but 
 evidently much pleased. ' My dear Pigou,' said her 
 admirer, * you were too ridiculous ! When you admire 
 a woman you cannot lay it on too thick.' 
 
 The French put people into maisons de sa7iU for 
 much less than we do. I know some at present who 
 in France would be temporarily placed in a maison de 
 sant^. They are, as a rule, paying patients. I was 
 sent for in Paris to see a lady who was afflicted with 
 d^sordre. How many outside maisons de sa^iU suffer 
 from the same malady — Anglice, 'disorder.' The 
 form it took with her was very harmless, so far as she 
 herself was concerned, but might be very troublesome 
 enfamille. She would dress and undress herself several 
 times in the same day ; she would do and undo her hair 
 frequently. I baptized her child, and she expressed a 
 very ardent desire to see me. The medical man told me 
 it was only a ' ruse ' to gain her liberty ; that he was sure 
 she would resent to me this unnecessary and irritating 
 restraint, but that, of course, I had nothing to do with 
 that, etc. I went to see her, some distance out of 
 Paris. I was ushered into a luxurious salon. She 
 came in, faultlessly dressed, and her hair bien coiffd. 
 She at once began by telling me that she was shame- 
 fully treated and illegally confined. I told her that she 
 would kindly understand that I was not responsible 
 for this, and that in wishing to see me I concluded 
 it was as a clergyman that she wished me to come. 
 ' Oh yes,' she said ; ' I want very much to go to church
 
 328 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 with you.' I at once saw that this was another way of 
 gaining her Hberty. I said : ' I am very sorry I cannot 
 let you accompany me, for I am an unmarried man, 
 and there would be no little gossip.' All of a sudden 
 she rushed upon me. ' You are not a married man ! 
 Go, sir, out of this room this very minute !' And, 
 putting her hands on my shoulders, she bundled me 
 out ! Our interview lasted two minutes. It took 
 three good hours out of my day to go and return. I 
 fled en ddsordre, and made a vow, N'o, never, never, 
 never again ! 
 
 I was once in what I think was a ' position of very 
 great danger.' It was with a parricide at Bethlehem. 
 I think, if my memory serve me right, his name was 
 Dat, a most powerful and formidable man. He occu- 
 pied much of his time in drawing, which was as 
 eccentric as what I have seen in Earlswood Asylum 
 for Idiots. I was quite alone with him in his small 
 room. I said I had heard he was a great artist — 
 would he show me some of his pictures ? to which 
 he at once consented. He suddenly produced one at 
 which, but for self-restraint, I should have burst out 
 laughing. It was : ' The Pig-faced Lady.'* It was a 
 woman with an enormous snout. I think Graves, of 
 Pall Mall, bought it as a curiosity. I bit my lips to 
 repress laughter. ' A very original conception,' I said. 
 ' Yes,' towering over and glaring at me, ' I should 
 think it is ; right you are.' I was glad to get out of 
 this Fine Arts Academy. I told Dr. Hood what I 
 had seen and said. He replied : ' I am very glad you 
 
 * I heard a clergyman in a London church in my day read, ' Like 
 as a jewel in a woman's snout, so is a fair woman without discretion.* 
 I wonder if Dat was present, and hence got his inspiration.
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 329 
 
 admired it. Had you laughed he would have felled 
 you to the ground.' I have sometimes thought Hood 
 ought not to have put me in such a ' position of very 
 great danger.' 
 
 A sense of humour, whilst it saves you from much, 
 is, on the other hand, occasionally trying. There was a 
 patient at Bethlehem, the editor of a well-known London 
 paper, who had become temporarily deranged from 
 over brain-work. His delusion was that his stomach 
 was full to repletion of rats ; there was no room for 
 anything else. Hood said to me : ' Go and talk to 
 him and lead up to the subject of rats.' I found him, 
 as is very common, perfectly sane on every subject but 
 this. After some conversation I said to him, feigning 
 not to know who he was : ' You seem to be a very 
 well-informed man. Have you given your attention 
 to natural history, because I notice that the question 
 is being discussed as to whether the species of the 
 genus rat called the Norwegian still exists ?' Instantly 
 he replied, ' Oh, certainly- !' and, unbuttoning his 
 dress, said : * Every known species of rat. Sir, is 
 here in my stomach '; and, localizing the rat with his 
 finger, said : ' Here, in this part of my stomach is a 
 Norwegian rat. You can assure your friends that as 
 long as I am alive no species can die.' Under the 
 kind and humane treatment of Bethlehem he was soon 
 at work again, and had, of course, no recollection of 
 his delusion. 
 
 I rather wanted to attend Divine service in a lunatic 
 asylum. I have several times been asked to preach in 
 an asylum, but have never done so, through fear of 
 what might happen to ' upset ' me. Some years ago 
 a Bishop was persuaded to do so. After the service
 
 330 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 one of the inmates said she particularly wished to see 
 the Bishop, and permission was granted. ' Thank 
 you so much, my lord, for coming, but oh, do not, do 
 not, I implore you, come again !' Supposing that he 
 had in some w-ay touched her heart or recalled tender 
 memories, the Bishop replied : ' Why, my good 
 woman, do you wish me so earnestly not to come 
 again ?' ' Because you cannot preach, and I asked that 
 I might see you to tell yon so /' 
 
 This reminds me of a clergyman preaching in a 
 church, and an idiot was in the congregation. All the 
 congregation were either drowsy or inattentive ; some 
 fell asleep. The preacher noticed this, but he also 
 noticed that one man seemed unaffected by the 
 general ' spirit of slumber.' Somewhat chagrined, he 
 said to him after service : ' I was glad to see you 
 did not go to sleep.' To which the idiot replied : 
 'Well, sir, if I were not what they call an "idiot," I 
 should have also fallen asleep.' 
 
 Sir Charles Clarke, Bart., an old Paris friend of mine, 
 was Rector of Hanwell, and he arranged that I should 
 be present, taking no part in the service, at Hanwell 
 Asylum. I was forewarned not to notice anything, if 
 I could avoid doing so, on the part of the inmates. I 
 found it e.xtremely difficult to act on my instructions. 
 During the reading of the lesson one man kept his eye 
 fixedly on me, and Whenever any passage occurred 
 that we should call ' striking ' or impressive, he winked 
 at me. It was most trying, but nothing to be com- 
 pared with what followed. I was sitting near a man 
 apparently devout and quiet. The chaplain gave out 
 a hymn : ' Let us sing to the praise.' ' All right,' said 
 my neighbour. He then produced from his pocket
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 331 
 
 one of those programmes of the Lord Mayor's Show 
 which you buy for a penny In the Strand. As the 
 verses were being sung he unfolded this, and, pointing 
 out to me 'Gog and Magog,' or the Lord Mayor's 
 carriage, he whispered : ' Now, what do you think of 
 this — beautiful, isn't it ?' As the hymn drew to a close, 
 of which he seemed quite aware, he folded it up and 
 with the concluding 'Amen I' put it back into his 
 pocket. There was a hymn after the third Collect. 
 The same thing happened again. ' All right.' The 
 programme was produced, and he pointed out to me 
 other interesting^ features in the Show. There was a 
 third hymn, and this much-dreaded programme was 
 again produced. I looked to see if escape were 
 possible. Service over, I again made the resolution I 
 made in Paris : ' No, never, never, never again !' 
 
 In one of the principal asylums in New York, as I 
 entered the spacious hall, there were two women 
 engaged in arranging the linen, who courteously curt- 
 seyed to me as I entered. There was nothing in their 
 general demeanour to lead you to believe they were 
 both insane. As I was leavinor, the Director said to 
 
 O 
 
 me : ' Allow me to introduce you to one of these 
 ladies.' I was at this time one of our late Queen's 
 Chaplains. ' Allow me to introduce this gentleman to 
 you ; he is one of the Queen of England's Chaplains.' 
 She very nearly knocked me down. ' How dare you. 
 Sir, say you are one of the Queen of England's 
 Chaplains ! I am the rightful Queen of England, and 
 I never appointed you.' I asked the Director, as a 
 personal favour, not to consider it necessary to intro- 
 duce me to any more patients. Apropos of being a 
 Queen's Chaplain, when I was Vicar of Doncaster we
 
 332 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 were in want of a housemaid. Two applied, but one, 
 for some reason or other, preferred another situation. 
 Her mother was very irate with her : ' To think,' she 
 said, ' of oit-r Betsy not going to the Vicar, who is one 
 of the Queens Chaplains /' I do not say that the 
 mother was a lunatic. No ; but it was evident she 
 thought that her daughter would be advanced to the 
 position of a 'maid of honour,' perhaps ' Mistress of the 
 Robes' or of the 'Bedchamber,' by entering our service. 
 
 It has often been noticed how many more or less 
 slightly deranged people are to be found in our 
 cathedrals both on the Continent and at home. They 
 are very quiet and inoffensive. I suppose they enjoy 
 the quiet, warmth, freedom from molestation, incense 
 and music, the latter having a peculiarly soothing 
 influence, as with Saul, who, when David took a harp 
 and played with his hand, was ' refreshed.' Occasion- 
 ally they are troublesome and have to be removed, but 
 even this is rare, and, if possible, it is safer to leave 
 them alone. I am not thinking of iconoclasts or of 
 those who, having some 'craze,' make Divine service 
 the opportunity for showing it. I am not thinking of 
 an old woman who came to-every ' visitation ' because 
 she said it did her much good, but of decidedly eccentric 
 people. 
 
 A gentleman called on me here some time ago and 
 asked me if I would take the chair at some meeting he 
 was anxious to have in Bristol. I asked him, naturally, 
 what the object of the meeting was. He replied : 
 'One in which I am personally much interested.' 
 'That,' I said, 'may be, but if I am to preside and 
 am to speak, I should wish to know what I am to 
 speak about.' 'Well,' he said, '/ want to get iLp a
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 333 
 
 meeting on behalf of distressed hinatics in Palestine! 
 'We need not,' I replied, 'go so far as Palestine for 
 lunatics : we have some much nearer home.' 
 
 The most painful and disturbing case I remember 
 was at Chichester Cathedral. For some reason a 
 young girl had conceived a violent dislike to the late 
 Bishop Durnford ; when he administered the bread to 
 her at Holy Communion she threw it back at him. 
 No one could have foreseen it. 
 
 At Halifax a man attended the parish church who 
 was deranged. He always called me ' Brother Pigou,' 
 and occasionally when I was preaching would cry out 
 ' Hallelujah !' I saw him and asked him not to do so, 
 but he added : ' If you see me about to cry out "Halle- 
 lujah !" put your finger to your lips, and that will stop 
 me.' I was disposed to demur at this request, and 
 reminded him that I could not be on the look-out for 
 'Hallelujah'; but on one Sunday morning he was 
 sitting near the pulpit, and I fancied I saw ' Hallelujah ' 
 coming. I did as he requested, with the desired effect. 
 It was this same man who put a piece of paper into 
 the offertory plate after I had been advocating some 
 particular charity. To the churchwardens it looked 
 like a five-pound note. It did not look so to me. On 
 opening it, this was written : ' Dear Brother Pigou, I 
 quite agree with all you say, but I cannot give you a 
 blessed halfpenny!' 
 
 There was a man in Halifax who was always, ' in 
 season and out of season,' bothering me to buy a bottle 
 of some concoction that he called ' his sauce.' It was 
 not ' Worcestershire,' nor ' Lazenby,' nor even ' York- 
 shire Relish.' He assured me that it was superior to 
 any other sauce. Again and again, if I met him in the
 
 334 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 street or elsewhere, he pressed this sauce upon me, 
 and always got the same discouraging answer : ' I tell 
 you I do not want your sauce.' How he managed to 
 do so unnoticed I know not, but one evening, as I was 
 going into the pulpit, my friend was at the steps. He 
 took a bottle of ' his sauce ' out of his pocket, and 
 adjured me: 'Do, Vicar, take it; you will find it 
 excellent for the voice.' You cannot safeguard yourself 
 from such people ; they do no actual harm, but it is 
 very trying ! 
 
 I have elsewhere told how I had at St. Philip's, 
 Regent Street, two or three alidnds every Sunday. I 
 do not say the following were alidnds, for they were not, 
 but I put them down amongst ' odd people ' I have met. 
 
 I invited the late Bishop Wordsworth, Bishop of 
 St. Andrew's, to preach at St. Philip's. He was in 
 the vestry robed. In came an elderly gentleman, and, 
 regardless of the Bishop's presence, who was not likely 
 to have been invited to read prayers, he came up to 
 me and said : ' Now, Pigou, I know your mother; don't 
 ofive us a lonof sermon this morninor.' I confess I 
 could not quite see what ' knowing my mother ' had 
 to do with it ! The Bishop stepped forward, and 
 courteously said : ' I am to preach this morning, and I 
 can promise you I w?ll not preach a long sermon.' 
 ' But I tell you, sir, I know his mother, and he must 
 not give us a long sehnon.' Further remonstrance or 
 assurance was in vain. 
 
 I must record, even though against myself, a delici- 
 ous, and perhaps unique, incident. I met in Pall Mall 
 
 a Colonel , who attended St. Philip's. Assuming 
 
 that he knew me, I went up to him and said : ' How 
 are you, Colonel ?' ' Oh, very well — very well, thank
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 335 
 
 you. Why, why do you ask me ?' ' Because I have 
 missed you from church lately.' ' Oh yes, St. Philip's.' 
 ' Yes,' I said, ' St. Philip's.' He then took me by the 
 hand, drew me near to him, and considerately, not 
 wishing any bystanders to hear, he said : * You know, I 
 have left that church.' ' For good ?' I said. ' Yes, 
 for good. Vou know, I do not very much like Mr. 
 Pigou. Do you knoiv him?' 'Yes,' I said, ' I have 
 a slight acquaintance with him.' ' Well, what do you 
 think of him ?' I did not think it would be fair to 
 draw him on, to tell him who I was, nor ask him why 
 he did not 'very much like Mr. Pigou,' so I said : ' If 
 you ask me how I like him, the more I know of him, 
 the less I like him.' ' Do you attend his church i^' he 
 said. ' Yes, I do.' ' Well, then, let us both leave the 
 church. Ha, ha ! capital ! We will both leave the 
 church, for we neither of us like him. I am so glad 
 to have met you. Good-bye ! — good-bye !' He went 
 up the steps of the Army and Navy, bright and happy 
 in the thought that he had persuaded one he did not 
 know to forsake St. Philip's. It is too good to be 
 unrecorded. 
 
 Few people, perhaps, have met more odd people 
 and received more odd letters than I have. I know not 
 why. I give only one or two specimens. Here is one : 
 
 * It was on St. Thomas's Day, 1859, I returned from 
 Cambridge. I speak of the Rev. Pigou. To him, 
 many months earlier than the above date, I sent 
 a statement, in which I affirmed that the amount of 
 attention, such as it was, which Mr. Pigou gave to my 
 communications, was the sojourn of Elijah with the 
 woman of Zarephath, and there it would last three and
 
 336 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 a half years. I wrote the date, I believe — June, 1861. 
 This sojourn began about the time of the marriage of 
 the Princess Royal. There was a death. Since my 
 return from Cambridge, I did not write as formerly to 
 Mr. Pigou. At last, after a silence, I think, of some 
 months, I sent a letter written by another. This Mr. 
 Pigou returned ; but while he or his servant was 
 club-lining the address to me, the Duchess of Kent 
 was struck, and died the next morning. Elijah and 
 the woman of Zarephath's son are the same person. 
 When my communication was returned, Elijah died. 
 He came to life again quickly when the Duchess of 
 Kent died, and preached the sermon, The Scriptures 
 cannot be broken ; see, thy son liveth. On Sunday 
 evening, June 23, after the service, I sent, under the 
 care of a friend, a little child into the vestry to speak 
 to Mr. Pigou. Then ended the sojourn of Elijah with 
 the woman of Zarephath. I informed the late Bishop 
 of Durham, then Bishop of Carlisle, on black-bordered 
 paper, that Mr. Pigou is Elijah. Did he not say that 
 the revelation of the mystery was made known to him 
 in a few words ? 
 
 ^August 26, 1 86 1.' 
 
 Here is another from a clergyman who was anxious 
 to be nominated to the Crown Living of Halifax, 
 addressed to the churchwardens, and handed on by 
 them to me : 
 
 ' Gentlemen, 
 
 * Having seen your advertisement for a curate 
 to take joint duties with another curate at the parish 
 church, I should be disposed, perhaps, to come forward
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 2>Z7 
 
 immediately at your desire, upon the conditions that I 
 had the entire superintendence of the parish services, 
 etc., and parochial duties (during the temporary vacancy 
 of the Vicarage), and also your supp07't in obtaining 
 from the Crown the vacant appointment itself oi Vicar 
 of HaHfax, if that appointment, with your recommen- 
 dation to the Premier as representing the Crown (upon 
 my giving you satisfaction, D.V.), is not already dis- 
 posed of, and you have a good hope that the Premier 
 (for Her Majesty) would be likely to be pleased with 
 your recommendation, for which would you address the 
 Premier ? 
 
 ' Being myself a Doctor of Divinity, I am only able 
 to address you in the manner, and upon the terms, 
 before named. I have recently, in May and July, been 
 taking sole charge of a parish near Exeter, and have 
 the honour to inform you that in performing the various 
 offices of the Church my services have given (as he 
 has been pleased to communicate to me) the highest 
 satisfaction to the incumbent, who is seriously ill, and 
 for whom I was called every Sunday to pray in the 
 " Prayer for all Sorts and Conditions of Men," 
 *' Litany," etc. 
 
 ' I am. Gentlemen, 
 
 ' Your very obedient servant. 
 
 ' P.S. I enclose my card.' 
 
 The writer seems to have had no misgivings as to 
 his ability to take practically sole charge of that great 
 parish of 12,000 souls, and his claim, on the ground 
 that he prayed for his incumbent, must be a great 
 encouragement to curates looking for preferment. 
 
 I received a letter at Doncaster asking me to give 
 
 22
 
 338 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 a detailed account of all the stained-glass windows. 
 ' An early reply will oblige.' There are twenty stainGd- 
 glass windows in the parish church. I wonder what 
 the writer thought the Vicar of Doncaster had to do. 
 
 I received another asking me to give a full and 
 detailed description of the organ. The renomm^ 
 organ has five manuals, ninety-one stops, etc., etc. 
 
 I received a letter last year as follows : 
 
 'Very Rev. Sir, 
 
 ' I should esteem it a great favour if you would 
 kindly inform me if the following Bishops of Bristol 
 were married, and if so, how many sons and daughters 
 each had: Christopher, 1783 ; Follict, 1797 ; Browne, 
 1897. 
 
 ' Trusting you will pardon the liberty I am taking in 
 thus trespassing upon your valuable time, 
 
 ' I remain, etc' 
 
 But that I have the letter before me, it would seem 
 incredible. 
 
 Here is a devout aspiration sent me anonymously 
 from one who despaired of the cathedral : ' What 
 would not a patriotic Englishwoman give to worship in 
 some Clifton or Bristol church on May 2\th, where the 
 National Anthem copld be sung kneeling !' 
 
 I give, of course, no names. A lady called on me 
 and said : * You are very fond of poetry. Dean, and 
 you often quote it.' ' Yes,' I said ; ' I think larger 
 use should be made in our services of good poetry.' 
 'I write poetry,' she said, 'and I have come to ask you 
 to quote some of mine.' ' I should like to read it 
 first.' Said she : ' I knew you would say that, but if
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 339 
 
 you like it I hope you will quote it at the nave service 
 on Sunday evenings, where there is the largest con- 
 gregation in the day, and of course you would not 
 quote it without saying who wrote it.' 
 
 I had been giving a lecture on some of the 
 phenomena connected with electricity, and in the 
 course of it said that it was not improbable that hail- 
 stones were shaped by electricity, and owed their 
 luminosity to the same source. A lady called who 
 had heard the lecture, and said : ' Dean, I have 
 brought you something which was thrown at my 
 window as I was sitting there during a thunderstorm, 
 and I want to know if you think it could have been 
 formed by electricity.' She dived into her pocket and 
 produced, wrapped up in cotton-wool, nothing more or 
 less than the unscrewed head of a silver pencil-case, 
 with some initials graven upon it. I thought to 
 myself 'is this "chaff".'*' I asked her if she was 
 really serious and not poking fun at me. She said 
 she was quite serious. My impression is that some 
 naughty boy, seeing her at the window, ' cock-shied ' 
 it at hen 
 
 Some time after, Sir Robert Ball gave us one of his 
 interesting lectures on meteoric stones and aerolites. 
 I presided. He told us, inter alia, that he had once 
 looked down the crater of Vesuvius, etc. In returning 
 thanks I said that I was deeply interested in his 
 lecture, not only because of all he had told us about 
 aerolites, but also because it threw some light on an 
 inquiry made of me. It was possible that, looking 
 down the crater of Vesuvius, Sir Robert had dropped 
 his pencil-case, and that the scattered fragments were 
 evidently belched forth, the head of it being violently 
 
 22 — 2
 
 340 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 projected through a window in Clifton. Fmtte de 
 mieux, might this be the real explanation of the 
 phenomenon ? 
 
 I often noticed in London a most miserable-looking 
 man driving through the streets listlessly in a phaeton. 
 He had the most ' hang-dog ' expression, and certainly 
 did not enjoy his drive. On inquiry I was told that 
 a relative had left him a very large fortune on the 
 condition that he drove every day (Sundays excepted), 
 wet or fine, sixty 77tiles a day. At first, and with so 
 large a fortune in prospect, he was delighted at the 
 idea, little realizing how onerous the condition was. I 
 have heard that by degrees he was on the verge of 
 insanity, for pleasure quickly passes into pain. Of 
 course, the will of the odd, eccentric testator was set 
 aside. 
 
 From time to time what amusing- things are said ! I 
 was speaking to a friend at Halifax of a young widow 
 who had been left ^500 a year on the condition that 
 she did not marry again. I said I thought it rather 
 hard, to which he replied in broad Yorkshire : ' Well, 
 Vicar, I doant see that. If I die and my wife 
 married again, / doant see why I a?n to keep t'other 
 chap f 
 
 I wish I could recall some of the extraordinary 
 requests for prayers which I have received before 
 service made by odd people. I could not have read 
 them out. But nothing in my experience comes up to 
 my dear friend, Dean Hole. As he has put one of my 
 stories about the plover's eggs into his Reminiscences, 
 I shall take French leave to put in one of his. A 
 curate was appointed to a curacy in a district, like 
 Lambourn, where race-horses were trained. The report
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 341 
 
 had preceded him that he not only knew nothing about 
 horses, but cordially disapproved of racing. On the 
 first Sunday of his officiating an old verger came into 
 the vestry and said : ' There'll be some sick folk you'll 
 have to pray for this morning, and we wants you to 
 pray for " Nellie Gray " — she's very bad.' The curate 
 had no opportunity of visiting the sick, and with the 
 other names he added that of Nellie Gray, The 
 following Sunday the verger came and said : ' Yer 
 needn't pray any more for Nellie Gray. The mare 
 got better next day, and we are all so pleased that you 
 take such an interest in race-horses. We all hope you 
 won't leave us, but you'll stay.' 
 
 A S.P.G. meeting, at which I was present, in a 
 country parish was the occasion of no little merriment 
 on the part of the audience, and of ' confusion worse 
 confounded ' on the part of the chairman. The chair- 
 man held a very prominent position in the parish, as 
 principal landowner and a baronet. He very kindly 
 accepted the invitation to preside at the S.P.G. 
 meeting in the village schoolroom. He had heard 
 that a well-known professor had come down for a short 
 stay, whom he held ' in mortal fear ' as satirist and 
 cynic. 
 
 He called on me and said: ' I hear Professor 
 
 has come down for a day or two's hunting. Of course 
 he will not come to the meeting.' ' There is no 
 knowing,' I replied, ' what he may do.' This was not 
 comforting. ' I wish, Pigou, you would help me. 
 Give me a hint or two, in case he comes.' I suggested 
 the ' Mutiny of the Bounty.' 
 
 ' Where are you going this evening ?' said the Pro- 
 fessor to me. ' I am going to the S.P.G. meeting
 
 342 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 to-night. Sir is to preside.' ' Oh ! then I shall 
 
 certainly go also.' 
 
 Never shall I forget the scared look of the chairman 
 when he saw the Professor seated in a front seat. He 
 lost all command over himself, and proceeded to say : 
 
 ' Fancy, my good friends, the distress which pre- 
 vailed on board the ship ! They were actually reduced 
 to one red cow.' (As if the fact of this doomed cow 
 being red aggravated their misery !) 'At last, after 
 frantic and, alas ! vain efforts to save the ship, she 
 broke up, and the sailors, coats without trousers, 
 trousers without coats, swam ashore! 
 
 He had a dim recollection of Acts xxvii. 44: 'And 
 the rest, some on boards, and some on broken pieces 
 of the ship.' Next day the chairman said to me with 
 fixed resolve : * No, never again ; nothing shall ever 
 induce me to take the chair at a missionary meeting.' 
 
 What stories Bishops could tell of answers given 
 by candidates for Ordination ! I have this on good 
 authority. A candidate was asked what there was in 
 the Bible to encourage celibacy. His reply was, ' "Their 
 priests were slain with the sword, and there were no 
 widows to make lamentation." But, my lord, it is 
 right to add that there is another rendering : " The 
 priests were slain with the sword, and their widows 
 made no lamentation." ' 
 
 Amongst 'oddities;' 'odd things,' which cannot but 
 have come of 'odd people,' I might mention epitaphs 
 and advertisements, of which I have a considerable 
 collection. There are people who have odd ways, 
 peculiar, eccentric habits, in some cases strikingly in- 
 herited, as I know from experience, in some cases 
 unintentionally acquired. Call them 'tricks,' ' fads,' or
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 343 
 
 what you please, they are as amusing as they are in- 
 eradicable. They do no one any harm, and to notice 
 them may not always be well-bred. There is some- 
 thing fascinating about them. You steadily resolve 
 you will not look, and yet somehow you do look. They 
 certainly should not be mimicked or ridiculed. They 
 are of the ' infirmities of this body of humiliation.' 
 But some advertisements would never have appeared 
 as they stand if the advertiser had had any sense of 
 humour. The most laconic I know out of many is : 
 ' Two sisters want washing. Apply,' etc. 
 
 Here is one out of the Sussex Daily : ' A lady 
 having charge of two little boys with ringworm offers 
 a home and other advantages to little boys !' There is 
 no limit to prospects and advantages such as these. 
 It might run : ' A lady having charge of two boys 
 with small-pox,' etc. 
 
 ' A young man advertises for board and lodging in a 
 family where his Christian example would be considered 
 sufficient remuneration.' I should very much like to 
 know this young mans appetite. 
 
 Another : ' A young man would be grateful to meet 
 with some Christian lady who would pay his debts, 
 contracted during his state of unbelief.' This appeared 
 years ago in one of our Church papers : ' Wanted a 
 tall, good-looking. Christian footman to carry a lady 
 upstairs.' What a chance for Jeames Plush ! 
 
 ' A spinster, particularly fond of children, wishes for 
 two or three, having none of her own nor any other 
 employment' 
 
 ' Three young ladies about to travel are in want of 
 a legal adviser, a chaplain, and a doctor. N.B. — JVo 
 one over thirty-five need apply. '
 
 344 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 * For sale, a piano, full description given — by a 
 widow with walmU legs.' 
 
 ' Anyone who has a cottage piano which they do 
 not use would confer a very great benefit upon the 
 Young Men's Institute by lending it for the winter 
 months. Any instrument of this kind may apply to 
 the Secretary.' 
 
 A father writes to his son : ' I cannot leave you 
 much, my boy. Your mother has always been so 
 extravagant. If I had never married her, you would 
 have inherited at least ^20,000.' Poor boy ! 
 
 ' A lady keeping a first-class school, requiring a good 
 piano, is desirous of receiving a daughter of the above 
 in exchange for the same.' 
 
 This was the verdict at a coroner's inquest in 
 India : ' Pango died of the tiger eating him. There 
 was no other cause of death ' (as if that were not 
 enough !). ' Nothing was left of Pango except some 
 fingers, which probably belonged to the right or left 
 hand.' 
 
 This forcibly reminds me of the well-known lines : 
 
 ' There was a young lady of Riga 
 Who went for a ride on a tiger ; 
 They finished the ride with the lady inside, 
 And a smile on the face of the tiger.' 
 
 ' Wanted, a respectable person, of neat habits, and 
 that has passed from 'death unto life otherwise than by 
 outward baptism, as housekeeper.' 
 
 For a curacy : ' Locum tenancy. Seaside, Cornwall, 
 June. Good Churchman ; extempore preacher. Lover 
 of souls. Three bed, two sitting, one dressing room, 
 two servants, children doubtful.' 
 
 This is from The Times : ' Gentleman wishes to join
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 345 
 
 another, knocking about town and abroad address, 
 serious ' ! 
 
 ' For sale, a fine bull-terrier dog. Well-known 
 breed, gained prizes at shows. Two years old. Will 
 eat anything ; very fond of children. Apply,' etc. 
 
 This is a choice example of the amalgam of religion 
 and business : ' Gentlemen, in the all-wise providence 
 of God have we been led to join in partnership for the 
 manufacture of every kind of green and flint glass 
 bottles, plain and stoppered. We hereby respectfully 
 beg to inform you that, having bought the above works, 
 we have every confidence that, by wise management 
 and the blessing of God, we shall be able to place 
 before you all classes of bottles, as good and as strong 
 as any other house in the trade.' 
 
 But I must not quote more than this, a letter 
 from a lady, patroness of a living, to her friend : 
 ' If you learn of anyone with energy, tearful interest 
 in the conversion of souls, attractive in preaching, 
 great-hearted, unselfish, merry — in fact, holy — let me 
 know. Paul was much of the kind of man we want in 
 this parish. We want a man who knows all about the 
 enemy ; has some capacity for working miracles ; is 
 ready to be stoned ! can teach the women, interest the 
 children, make princes v^emble, confound the Jews, 
 convert kings, pick up sticks, earn his own living, go 
 through fire and water for the good of others, with no 
 expectation that they will interest themselves in him, 
 and in general lead a forlorn life of dependent follower.' 
 
 Now, for all these I can vouch, in so far as they are 
 found in the advertising columns of different news- 
 papers. For many years I have collected these as a 
 boy collects eggs, insects, or shells. I could fill pages
 
 346 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 with them. They are authentic, not ' made up.' It is, 
 perhaps, necessary to say this, because people so often 
 say : ' Now, is that really true ? Are you not invent- 
 ing ?' and proceed to say : 'Now I will tell you some- 
 thing really true. I heard it from So-and-so, and I 
 know he could not invent,' etc. You are expected to 
 believe unhesitatingly what they tell, while they are 
 sceptical as to what you tell ! 
 
 Well, and what is to be said about ' odd people ' and 
 ' odd things ' ? As regards the inmates of asylums, I 
 never visit an asylum without lifting up my heart to 
 God in humble thankfulness that, so far. He has been 
 pleased to allow me the use of my mental faculties, 
 and not deprived me of what in so many cases admits 
 of no alternative but a maison de santd. For my 
 part, I fail to see how to be a lunatic should any more 
 be of reproach or be regarded as a blot on the family 
 escutcheon than to have small-pox or consumption. 
 Both are afflictive dispensations from God. Unless 
 brought on by intemperance, where is the occasion for 
 reproach, and, where inherited, for ridicule 1 We may 
 indeed thank God that the padded room or arms in 
 bolsters take the place of strait-waistcoat or violent 
 restraint ; that music, aviaries, dances, tableaux vivants, 
 and plays are enlisted into the ministry of healing the 
 ' sick in mind ' ! 
 
 I never visit and, leave a prison without saying, 
 * There, but for the grace of God, would Francis 
 Pigou be !' And as regards the less serious aspects of 
 oddity, which need no restraint, which are in some 
 cases the ' broken china ' of human life, harmless and 
 amusing, they are amongst the things which, not at the 
 expense of the odd person, but as incidental to life.
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 347 
 
 excite humour and, without being made matter of 
 ridicule, amuse. There are those who are so con- 
 stituted that they are absolutely wanting in the sense 
 of humour ; they are as dry as any of the dry bones 
 in the valley of Ezekiel's vision. At a dinner-table 
 where there is a fusillade of anecdote and story you 
 can see that they are prepossessed with the menu ; 
 when all the rest are laughing, a sort of sickly smile 
 lights up their unappreciative countenance. One 
 wonders what would 'fetch them.' 
 
 I was staying in a country house, and a very dry old 
 family lawyer was one of the guests. Story after story 
 was told. His head was buried in his plate. Fly 
 after fly was thrown over his head — March brown, 
 coch-y-bondy, partridge wing — he rose to none. Worm 
 or gudgeon you could not try. It did occur to me if a 
 silver spoon, with which I have caught many a pike, 
 would attract his notice. All others failing, I told the 
 story of the elderly lady and the sausage. An elderly 
 lady suffered from insomnia and sent for her medical 
 man. ' I have very little sleep,' she said, ' and when 
 I do fall asleep, even for a few minutes, I always see 
 my grandmother.' 'Well,' said the family physician, 
 ' I had the pleasure of knowing your grandmother, a 
 most charming person, and, pardon my saying, you 
 might have seen something worse.' 
 
 This, by the way, was not very complimentary to 
 the old lady. It reminds me of the lady who bought 
 a parrot. She was horrified at the bad language the 
 parrot used, and complained of this to the man of 
 whom she bought the parrot. ' Ah, viada^n^ he 
 replied, 'you ought to be very carefut what you say 
 before your parrot. '
 
 348 ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 The medical man proceeded to inquire into his 
 patient's habits of Hfe. ' I have,' she said, ' a hght 
 breakfast.' ' Yes, and how about mid-day ?' ' I have 
 a very light meal.' ' Yes. At what hour do you go 
 to rest .-*' ' Always about ten.' ' Do you have any- 
 thing before you go to bed ?' ' Oh yes — a light supper.' 
 ' Very good — very good. Now, on the night that you 
 constantly saw your grandmother, what, may I ask, did 
 you have for supper ?' ' Jane ' — calling her maid — ' do 
 you remember what I had for supper on the night I 
 told you I kept seeing my grandmother ?' ' Yes, 
 ma'am ; you had half a sausage.' ' Then, madam, if 
 you had eaten the other half you would have seen your 
 orrandfather also.' 
 
 To ^ka^ fly our friend rose. Years afterwards I met 
 him, and he said : ' I never hear of you, Sir, nor see 
 your name in print, without recalling that old lady and 
 the sausage.' 
 
 So there is still hope for the apparently pachyderma- 
 tous. Again, there are those who see a joke long 
 after it has been told, like the medical man Dickens 
 writes of, who half an hour after sees the joke. The 
 conversation is directed -to other topics. In his 
 case it was a sudden death or funeral, and he would 
 suddenly call out : ' The best thing I ever heard!' or 
 as one Canon Ainger told me of the Scotchman who 
 had heard his friend tell a story at a dinner-party. 
 Three days afterwards he was walking with him ; he 
 suddenly stopped, and in reference to this story he 
 said : ' I hae you knoo — I hae you knoo, my mon !' 
 This was after three days' and nights' ' incubation.' 
 
 We will not banish kindly jest and unsarcastic 
 humour from table or walk ; we will not frown it
 
 ODD PEOPLE I HAVE MET 349 
 
 down with Puritanical look, nor regard a sense of 
 humour as inconsistent or incompatible with all due 
 gravity in its due season ; we will not the less listen to 
 one who seeks our spiritual good because out of pulpit 
 and in social intercourse he enlivens us with some 
 amusing tale. We will remember, too, that there are 
 many sad hearts in our stricken world, sadder than God 
 would have them be. There are many suffering and 
 bedridden who find alleviation from weariness and 
 pain, not only in the highest source of comfort and 
 consolation, but in forms and ways which God would 
 not disown or disallow. I know from abundant 
 grateful testimony that my ' Phases of My Life ' has 
 found its way into many a sick-room, and has lightened 
 many and many a weary hour. If this second venture 
 does the same, free as I have tried to keep it from 
 aught that could grieve or pain ; written from wide 
 experience of life ; seeking to discern the good rather 
 than the evil in mankind ; presenting to my readers 
 'grave and gay,' inseparable from the world in which 
 our lot is cast, and with which we have for an allotted 
 time to do, I shall feel rewarded for time and toil spent 
 upon * Odds and Ends.' 
 
 THE END 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 PHASES OF MY LIFE 
 
 BY THE 
 
 VERY REV. FRANCIS PIGOU 
 
 DEAN OF BRISTOL 
 
 Sixth Impression. With Portrait. Crown 8zw. 6s. 
 
 press ©pinions. 
 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 ' To Dr. Pigou is due the credit of having given us one of the most 
 thoroughly entertaining volumes of reminiscences ever produced by a clerical 
 author. His lively pages, crowded with amusing anecdotes and droll com- 
 ments relating to all sorts and conditions of men with whom he has been 
 brought in contact in the course of a long ministerial career, present a con- 
 tinuous series of evidences of the alertness of the sense of humour which, as 
 he admits, he has now and then found to be an embarrassing possession to a 
 member of his calling, but which will certainly not be regarded as a dis- 
 advantage by the readers of this bright and diverting autobiography. His 
 book is, before everything else, a collection of quaint and droll stories, many 
 of them of excellent quality, and nearly all of them worth the telling.' 
 
 THE TIMES. 
 
 ' It is full of capital stories, and the Dean passes in review the events of a 
 distinguished and a varied clerical career with a pleasant gossiping pen. ' 
 
 THE ACADEMY. 
 
 'It is a Niagara of anecdote, a rushing and a radiant tide of Deanery 
 humour. And Dean Pigou is so whole-hearted ! He tells us how people 
 wrestle with his name: call him Pigue, Pigout, Pigoe, Puegou, Pico, the 
 Rev. Mr. Puggie, Pickles, and — after twenty years in the vineyard — the Rev. 
 Mr. Pagan. After this we know what to expect : we have caught our Dean, 
 and have only to enjoy him. We have never handled a volume of reminis- 
 cences so crammed with good stories as this. We have quoted at random, 
 and as our eye alights on the line, " What stories and anecdotes I could tell 
 about Bishops !" we close the book in laughing despair.' 
 
 DAILY TELEGRAPH. 
 
 ' Dean Pigou 's book may be fairly added to the number of those which are 
 tending to make enlightened biography one of the most popular subjects on 
 our modern bookshelves. A brighter, pleasanter book of amusing stories and 
 sound good sense applied to religious or social questions of the day there 
 could not be.' 
 
 LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD.
 
 PHA5ES OF MY LIFE 
 
 BY THE 
 
 VERY REV. FRANCIS PIGOU 
 
 DEAN OF BRISTOL 
 
 press ®\)iniOnS— continued. 
 
 DAILY CHRONICLE. 
 
 ' Dean Pigouis a fascinating personality, a scholarly divine and an eloquent 
 preacher. We can assure him that almost every reader who takes up his 
 book will share in the enjoyment which it must have afforded him to write.' 
 
 STANDARD. 
 
 ' Of the many books of reminiscences which have appeared during the past 
 few years, few contain more pleasant reading than Dean Pigou's " Phases of 
 My Life." If there is much in it that amuses, there is also not a little to en- 
 list the sympathies of laymen with the clerical members of the Church of 
 England.' 
 
 YORKSHIRE POST. 
 
 ' Dean Pigou's reminiscences are so full of good things that it would be 
 possible to fill a dozen numbers of Tit Bits from this book alone. The whole 
 effect of the book is extremely racy.' 
 
 DAILY NEWS. 
 
 ' We have to thank this genial Dean, whose memory is almost as good as 
 Macaulay's, for a book about two-thirds of which is packed with funny stories 
 about the Clergy and the Churches.' 
 
 GLASGOW HERALD. 
 
 ' It has not a dull page. Dean Pigou has almost as keen a sense of humour 
 as Dean Ramsay had ; he is also an' excellent raconteur, and his 380 chatty 
 pages contain as many "good things" as could be got by squeezing the 
 essence out of half a dozen volumes of the so-called " new" humour.' 
 
 SCOTSMAN. 
 
 ' No more delightful volume of ecclesiastical reminiscences has appeared 
 since the publication of the late Archbishop Magee's biography. A volume 
 which abounds in humour that may be appreciated by every reader and yet 
 can offend nobody.' 
 
 BIRMINGHAM POST. 
 
 * This volume will be in future times a delightful and lasting memorial to a 
 man of large heart and kindly nature.' 
 
 LONDON : EDWARD ARNOLD.
 
 Telegrams : 37 Bedford Street, 
 
 ' Scholarly, London.' Strand, London. 
 
 October, 1903. 
 
 Mr. Edward Arnold's 
 
 New and Popular Books. 
 
 MY MEMOIRS. 
 
 By HENRI STEPHAN DE BLOWITZ. 
 Edited by STEPHAN LAUZANNE DE BLOWITZ. 
 
 Second Impression. Demy Svo. With Portrait. \^s. nett. 
 
 Contrary to the general belief, the late M. de Blowitz, who was for 
 nearly thirty years the Paris Correspondent of The Times, had been 
 engaged for some time before his death in putting into shape for 
 publication some of the more remarkable incidents of his career. 
 These characteristic chapters of autobiography, which have been 
 arranged for the press by M. de Blowitz's adopted son, the Editor of 
 Le Matin, reveal some of the methodsT^y which the best-known of modern 
 Correspondents achieved his greatest journalistic triumphs. M. de 
 Blowitz describes in his own inimitable manner his early youth ; how 
 he became a journalist ; his interview with Alphonso XII., when the 
 latter was proclaimed King of Spain ; how he averted the German 
 invasion of France in 1875 ; the part he played at the Berlin Congress, 
 when he secured the publication of the Treaty in The Times on the very 
 morning that it was signed ; the subsequent attempt made, through the 
 agency of a woman, to discover how he did it ; what the Sultan told 
 him during his visit to Constantinople ; and the circumstances of Prince 
 Bismarck's retirement. On these and many other topics which have 
 been the source of world-wide curiosity, M. de Blowitz takes the reader 
 into his confidence. He was the only man who could have written 
 such memoirs — or who would have written them as he has done. 
 
 LONDON : EDWARD ARNOLD, n BEDFORD STREET. STRAND.
 
 FURTHER RECOLLECTIONS OF 
 A DIPLOMATIST. 
 
 By the Right Hon. Sir HORACE RUMBOLD, Bart.,G.C.B.,G.C.M.G. 
 
 Demy Svo. i^s. nett. 
 
 Sir Horace Rumbold begins the Second Series of his Recollections 
 in the year 1873, at the point to which he brought his readers in the 
 volumes already published. He begins by describing his stay in Chile, 
 where he filled the position of Minister, and had the handling of the 
 well-known Tacna affair ; it required all a diplomatist's skill to prevent 
 this curious episode from developing into a serious crisis between Great 
 Britain and Chile. Returning home in 1876, Sir Horace enjoyed a 
 period of leisure that enabled him to meet in society all the most 
 famous men and women of the day ; about this time he began to keep 
 a diary, ' of almost Pepysian fulness,' to the no small advantage of the 
 readers of his ' Recollections.' Later on we follow him to appointments 
 in Greece and Sweden, retaining, wherever he found himself, that 
 cosmopolitan interest in his surroundings that has made his earlier book 
 such charming reading. 
 
 Sir Horace has not had time to prepare more than one volume for 
 this autumn, but he hopes in due course to complete his 'Recollections,' 
 and bring them down to the date of his retirement from the Diplomatic 
 Service. 
 
 ODDS AND ENDS. 
 
 By FRANCIS PIGOU, 'D.D., Dean of Bristol, 
 
 Author of 'Phases of Mv Life," etc. 
 
 Demy %vo. \(iS. 
 
 This is another instalment of Dean Pigou's apparently inexhaustible 
 fund of anecdote and reminiscence. Readers of his ' Phases of my 
 Life ' will be prepared to enjoy the feast of good stories set before them 
 in this new volume. Whether the subject be Boyhood and Schoolboy 
 Life, or Sunday Schools, or Preaching, or Parochial Missions, or 
 Cathedrals, or The Relation of Disease to Crime, or Club-life, or Odd 
 People I have met, and Odd Sayings and Doings, they will rely on 
 finding abundance of good wit, good humour, and good sense ; and 
 they will not be disappointed.
 
 THE DIARY OF SIR JOHN MOORE. 
 
 Edited by Major-General Sir J. F. MAURICE, K.CB. 
 Two vols. Detny 2>vo. With Portrait and Maps. 305, 7iett. 
 
 This Diary covers the whole of Sir John Moore's military career from 
 the time when he first saw service in Corsica in 1793 to within a fort- 
 night of his death at Corunna in 1809. It seems to have been written 
 with the minute care and perspicacity that characterized all Moore's 
 work, and has been printed with scarcely the change of a word from 
 the original. It not only contains a vivid record of military events 
 during a momentous period, but gives free expression to the writer's 
 views on his contemporaries, civil and military, on the policy pursued 
 by Ministers, and the means adopted to face the gravest danger that has 
 ever threatened the existence of Great Britain as an independent Power. 
 
 But the Diary is, above all, interesting from the light it throws upon 
 the character of Sir John Moore himself; no one can read unmoved the 
 unconscious testimony to his own virtues of this great man's private 
 reflections, intended for no eye but his own. In modesty, in devotion 
 to duty, in integrity, in military skill, he stands out in striking contrast 
 to most of his contemporaries. 
 
 The Diary has been edited by General Sir Frederick Maurice, K.C.B., 
 with appropriate introductions to Moore's various campaigns in Corsica, 
 the West Indies, Flanders, Egypt, Sweden, Sicily, and the Peninsula ; 
 while the abortive French invasion of Ireland provides not the least 
 interesting chapter in a valuable book. 
 
 The portrait of Sir John Moore is reproduced from the picture by Sir 
 Thomas Lawrence in the National Portrait Gallery. 
 
 THE PROBLEM OF THE ARMY. 
 
 By L. S. AMERY, 
 
 Editor of '"The Times" History of the War in South Africa.' 
 
 Crown Zvo. ^s. 
 
 This is a reprint of the striking articles originally published in The 
 Times. It is believed that many will be glad to possess in a permanent 
 form this important contribution to the literature of the subject, con- 
 sisting as it does of a serious inquiry by one of the leading writers 
 of the day into the military needs of the Empire and the means of 
 satisfying them. The book is rendered additionally interesting by the 
 incorporation of extracts from the evidence given before the War Com- 
 mission, which justifies the author's argument in the most remarkable 
 manner.
 
 THIRTY SEASONS IN SCANDINAVIA. 
 
 By E. B. KENNEDY. 
 Demy Svo. Wtih numerous Illustrations. \os. 6d. nett. 
 
 * No one has properly seen Norway,' says Mr. Kennedy, 'until he 
 has been up and sojourned on the roof of that grand country ;' and 
 surely Mr. Kennedy has a right to speak, for he has spent thirty seasons 
 in exploring every part, not only of its ' roof,' but of its fjords, lakes, rivers, 
 and islands, and knows perhaps as much as any living man of Scandinavia 
 from the sporting point of view. In this record of his adventures he 
 writes of every kind of sport with delightful freshness and appreciation. 
 He is a true sportsman, and as one reads one realizes the secret of his 
 keen enjoyment of his life ; for he understands men and loves animals, 
 and has that observant sympathy with Nature in all its forms which 
 many men who live in the open air either lack or are unable to express 
 in v/ords. His pages teem with anecdotes of fishing, shooting, hunting, 
 and ski-ing, and contain incidentally many valuable hints on camping 
 and cooking. There is also much interesting information about the 
 people, their manners and customs ; nor are the lemmings, beavers, and 
 ponies forgotten. 
 
 The book, which is illustrated with some remarkable photographs, 
 cannot fail to delight all lovers of the rod and gun. 
 
 FRATRIBUS. 
 
 Sermons ipreacbeD mainlg in Mincbestcr CTollege Cbapel. 
 By JOHN TRANT BRAMSTON, M.A. 
 
 Crown Zvo. ^s. neit. 
 
 Mr. Bramston has found, from an experience as a Winchester College 
 house-master extending over thirty-four years, that the preacher most 
 likely to influence a school ' congregation is not the professor or the 
 lecturer, or even the schoolmiaster, but the man who will speak to the 
 boys as brothers, and endeavour to look at the problem.s of school-life 
 from their own point of view. Among the twenty-seven sermons in this 
 volume are included some specially addressed to the younger boys at 
 the outset of their career. It is believed that schoolmasters and parents 
 alike will find the collection a valuable one.
 
 ROUND KANGCHENJUNGA. 
 
 By DOUGLAS W. FRESHFIELD, F.R.G.S., 
 
 Lately President of the Alpine Clue. 
 
 Royal Zvo. With Maps and tuinieroiis Illustrations. \%s. neit. 
 
 The magnificent range of Kangchenjunga is perhaps, in one sense, 
 the best-known portion of the Himalaya Mountains, inasmuch as it 
 is visible from the popular hill-station of Darjiling ; but till quite 
 recently it was almost unexplored and very inadequately mapped. The 
 complete circuit of the great mountain had never been made, and its 
 possibility was uncertain, till it was demonstrated by Mr. Freshfield's 
 remarkable journey. 
 
 The map which was the first-fruit of that journey is in itself an 
 invaluable addition to our geographical knowledge, but the volume 
 which describes it has a far wider range of interest. Its results have 
 been dealt with by Professor Garwood, but the book will appeal first 
 and foremost to mountaineers and lovers of adventurous travel. The 
 country traversed has also its own crop of frontier questions and poli- 
 tical and racial problems, and these, too, are dealt with by Mr. Freshfield 
 with his usual clearness, while his descriptive powers have found 
 abundant scope in what is, perhaps, the most superb scenery in the 
 world. In connection with the numerous photographs which adorn his 
 narrative, it is enough to mention the name of Signor Vittorio Sella. 
 
 MEMORIES OF THE MONTHS. 
 
 Third, Series. 
 
 By the Right Hon. Sir HERBERT MAXWELL, Bart., M.P. 
 
 Large crown Svo. With Photogravure Illustrations, js. 6d. 
 
 It is now three years since the Second Series of ' Memories of the 
 Months ' appeared, and it is hoped that the public will welcome this 
 fresh instalment, which, while dealing with Sport and Natural History 
 on the same general lines as its predecessors, is, of course, entirely 
 different from anything that has hitherto been published in the 
 ' Memories.' Sir Herbert is, indeed, continually adding to his stock 
 of Memories by fresh experiences, so that his books afford a valuable 
 index to the condition of angling and deer-stalking at the time of 
 writing ; while it is rare to find a sportsman who has so keen an interest 
 in all matters of Natural History, Forestry, etc. 
 
 This volume is uniform in style and binding with the First and 
 Second Series.
 
 THREE ROLLING STONES IN JAPAN. 
 
 By GILBERT WATSON. 
 
 Demy 2>vo. With numerous Illustrations. \2s. 6d. nett. 
 
 Japan is proverbially a young man's paradise, and when three young 
 men wander through the country with the fixed intention of enjoying 
 themselves, one expects to hear a glowing account of their proceedings. 
 But it is not often that the story combines literary charm with its other 
 merits. The adventures of these ' Rolling Stones ' are not only 
 interesting — that they could hardly fail to be — but are described with 
 quite exceptional skill. 
 
 Mr. Watson gives a picture of Japan and its people which fills one 
 with a great longing. Possessing an artist's appreciation of the beautiful 
 as well as a keen sense of humour, he sketches his scenery and characters 
 with a light and sympathetic touch. The heroine Karakamoko, a rick 
 shaw-man's daughter, who accompanies the party as interpreter and 
 guide, is a most fascinating creature, with whom the reader will 
 inevitably fall in love. 
 
 The book is copiously illustrated with photographs. 
 
 AUSTRALIND. 
 
 21 flarrattvc of ManDerlngs in Western Bustialta anD tbe 
 /IRalag Bast. 
 
 By HENRY TAUNTON. 
 
 Ojie volume %vo. los. 6d. nett. 
 
 There are few of the wilder aspects of life in Australia of which 
 Mr. Taunton does not possess an intimate first-hand knowledge, and a 
 remarkable knack of vivid writing has enabled him to turn his varied 
 material to excellent account. Whether he is lying in wait for wild 
 cattle, riding after wild horses, or striving gallantly to sit a buck-jumper, 
 the reader hears and sees and struggles with him. Equally graphic are 
 his sketches of Australian types and of the aborigines, and his chapters 
 on pearl-fishing give an interesting picture of this curious industry.
 
 IMPERIAL FISCAL REFORM. 
 
 By Sir VINCENT H. P. CAILLARD. • 
 
 Crown Zvo. 3^. dd. ?iett. 
 
 Sir Vincent Caillard has long been meditating a comprehensive work 
 on Imperial Trade and Finance. But in view of the general inquiry 
 into the fiscal policy of the Empire suggested by Mr. Chamberlain last 
 May, he has postponed for a time the completion of this work, thinking 
 that he would render greater service to those who wish to take part in 
 the inquiry by showing them in less voluminous form the figures and 
 arguments which have led him to his well-known economic conclusions. 
 
 The present book is especially remarkable for the care taken to 
 eliminate the effect on trade of the South African War, and to keep in 
 view the conditions prevailing in normal circumstances. A large portion 
 of the earlier chapters have already appeared in a more condensed shape 
 in the pages of the National Revieia, but the concluding chapters are 
 entirely fresh matter, and have been written with the express purpose of 
 discussing the scheme for the preferential treatment of the colonies, as 
 understood up to the present time. Sir Vincent Caillard directs the 
 attention of all who desire earnestly to search for the truth to two 
 propositions : (i) That preferential treatment of the colonies must only 
 be looked upon as a step towards Free Trade within the Empire ; and 
 (2) that it is a very great error to draw hard-and-fast conclusions from 
 the present conditions of the world without any regard to the future. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. 
 
 a (5uiDe to ipersonal Culture. 
 
 By PHILIP GIBBS. 
 
 Croivn Zvo. 3^'. dd. 
 
 This book is a revised and much enlarged edition of the volume of 
 Essays on self-education, by Mr. Gibbs, already so favourably received 
 by the public to whom the name of ' Self-Help ' is familiar as that of 
 an attractive writer in weekly newspapers. It contains a series of 
 articles on the various elements which contribute to the true culture of 
 the mind, short sketches of Great Writers and studies on Great Sub- 
 jects, together with many valuable suggestions for serious inquiry 
 into ' the things which matter ' and upon which every thoughtful man or 
 woman should have an opinion.
 
 PAT M'CARTY, FARMER OF 
 ANTRIM: HIS RHYMES. 
 
 By J. STEVENSON. 
 
 Crown 8z'(?. ds. nett. 
 
 A good deal has been written lately about the coming poet of Ireland. 
 Without going so far as to claim that role for Pat M'Carty, we are 
 confident that he will be welcomed as «« Irish poet, whose native notes 
 are thoroughly racy of the soil. A poet must make his own way with 
 his readers ; but we can at least promise this to those who will give Pat 
 a trial — that, whether they like him or not, they will find him something 
 entirely unexpected. 
 
 LADY ANNE'S WALK. 
 
 By ELEANOR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Large crown Zvo. With Photogravure Illustrations, js. 6d. 
 
 To Miss Alexander, residing in the historic palace of Armagh, wnth 
 her father the Archbishop, and deeply sensitive to the religio loci, it was 
 a natural and pretty fancy to find its embodiment in Lady Anne, who 
 lived there in her day with a former Primate, her brother, and to weave 
 about her memory pleasant pictures of an age and a generation that 
 have passed away. But she draws her inspirations from other sources, 
 too — from legend and old-world history, and from the present as well as 
 from the past — the beauties of the venerable precincts as they are to-day, 
 and the humours of its inhabitants and visitants. The result is a 
 charming pot-pourri, which should appeal to all who are susceptible to 
 the charm and romance of Ireland. 
 
 THE SAD END OF ERICA'S 
 BLACKAMOOR 
 
 By F. CLAUDE KEMPSON. 
 Super royal d^to. 35. dd. 
 
 This is a delightful children's picture-book, full of amusing fancy and 
 clever black-and-white drawing. The ' story ' is written in capitals by 
 hand, and reproduced in facsimile.
 
 NEW NOVELS. 
 
 Crown Si'o. 6s. each. 
 
 THE BERYL STONES. 
 
 By Mrs. ALFRED SIDGWICK. 
 
 Author of 'Cynthia's Way,' 'The Thousand Eugenias,' etc. 
 
 THE RIVER OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 By PHILIP LAURENCE OLIPHANT. 
 
 Author of ' The Little Red Fish.' 
 
 GOD'S SCHOLARS. 
 
 By CHARLES FIELDING MARSH. 
 
 THE NEBULY COAT. 
 
 By J. MEADE FALKNER. 
 
 Author of ' Moonfleet.' 
 
 THE LONGSHOREMEN. 
 
 By GEORGE BARTRAM. 
 
 THE KEY OF PARADISE. 
 
 By SIDNEY PICKERING. 
 
 Author of 'Verity.' 
 
 MR. PAGE'S WILD OATS. 
 
 By CHARLES EDDY. 
 
 Author of 'Winifred and the Stockbkcker' and 'The Taint of the City.' 
 
 THE BOY, SOME HORSES, AND A GIRL. A 
 
 Tale of an Irish Trip. 
 
 By DOROTHEA CONYERS. 
 
 NEV/ EDITIONS. 
 
 THE LIFE OF FATHER DOLLING. By the Rev. 
 
 C. E. Osborne, Vicar of Seghiil, Northumberland. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 TALKS WITH MR. GLADSTONE. By the Hon. 
 
 L. A. TOLLEMACHE. Lartje crown Svo. With a Portrait of Mr. Gladstone. 6s. 
 
 A MEMOIR OF ANNE J. CLOUGH, Principal of 
 
 Newnham College, Cambridge. By her Niece, Blanche A. Clough. 
 Crown Svo. With Portrait. 6s.
 
 ESSEX HOUSE PRESS PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Mr. Edward Arnold has much pleasure in calling attention to the 
 fact that almost without exception these interesting books have all been 
 bought up and become out of print before publication, while one or two 
 that have found their way into the sale-rooms have commanded a high 
 premium. 
 
 These books are printed by the Guild of Handicraft, at Essex 
 House, on the hand presses used by the late Mr. William Morris at 
 the Kelmscott Press. Members of Mr. Morris's staff are also re- 
 tained at the Essex House Press, and it is the hope of the Guild of 
 Handicraft by this means to continue in some measure the tradition of 
 good printing and fine workmanship which William Morris revived. 
 
 Subscribers to the complete series of Essex House Publications are 
 given priority for any new book issued, and the number of subscribers 
 is constantly increasing. Intending subscribers and persons who desire 
 to receive announcements of the forthcoming publications are recom- 
 mended to enter their names as soon as possible. 
 
 ORDERS MAY NOW BE GIVEN FOR THE FOLLOWING : 
 
 Wordsworth's ' Ode on the Intimations of Immortality.' 
 
 With frontispiece drawn by Walter Crane. Vellum Series. 150 copies. 
 ■ £2 2s. nett. 
 
 Heine's * Selected Songs.' Edited by Edmond Holmes. This book 
 
 will contain a frontispiece by Reginald Savage, and will be uniform in size 
 with the ' Endeavour.' It will be printed in the original German. The edition 
 will consist of 250 paper copies bound in boards at i guinea, and 12 vellum 
 copies at 2 guineas each. 
 
 The Guild of Handicraft Song-Book. With cuts and music in 
 
 four-page sheets at is. a sheet, to be issued in sets of ten at a time, or bound 
 up subsequently by arrangement. - 
 
 Cicero's 'De Amicitia' in Latin and English (John Harrington's 
 
 translation, Elizabethan). 
 COPIES MAY YET BE OBTAINED OF THE FOLLOWING 1 
 
 The 'Parentalia' of Sir Christopher Wren. The Life and 
 
 Account of the Works of the Great Architect by his Son. Containing a series 
 of illustrations of the remaining City Churches. ;^3 13s. 6d. nett. 
 
 Benvenuto Cellini's Treatises on Metal Work and Sculpture. 
 
 By C. R. AsHBEE. 600 copies. A few still left. 35s. nett. 
 
 Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. Edited from the earlier editions 
 by Janet E. Ashbee, with a frontispiece by Reginald Savage. Vellum 
 cover. 750 copies. 30s. nett.
 
 American Sheaves and Eng-lish Seed Corn. By C. R. Ashbee. 
 
 300 copies. 30s. nett. 
 
 The Doing's of Death. Folio Volume of Large Woodcuts. By 
 
 William Strang. 140 copies. £,b 6s. 
 
 The Old Palace of Bromley-by-Bow. By Ernest Godman. 350 
 
 copies, of which 200 are for the use of the Committee for the Survey of the 
 Memorials of Greater London, leaving 150 for sale. 2is. nett. 
 
 The Masque of the Edwards of England. By C. R. Ashbee. 
 
 With a series of pictured pageants by Edith Harwood. Limited to 300 
 copies at ^3 3s. There are also 20 copies on vellum, coloured in water-colours 
 by the artist, at ^12 12s. 
 
 KING EDWARD THE SEVENTH'S 
 PRAYER-BOOK. 
 
 This will be a sumptuous edition of the Book of Common Prayer, 
 which, by gracious permission of His Majesty, will be entitled ' King 
 Edward the Seventh's Prayer-Book.' 
 
 The new Prayer-Book will be hand printed at the Essex House Press, 
 and. whilst conforming to the Authorized Version, will rank, as a piece 
 of typography, with the Great Prayer-Book of Edward VI. It is to be 
 in new type designed by Mr. C. R. Ashbee, with about one hundred 
 and fifty woodcuts, and is to be printed in red and black on Batchelor 
 hand-made paper. There will also probably be a special binding of 
 green vellum with a gold block design and clasps. 
 
 Exceptional circumstances connected with the Book of Common 
 Prayer render it essential that this work, in order to be of historic value, 
 shall be issued with the imprint of the King's printers ; the Prayer-Book 
 will therefore be published by his Majesty's printers, Messrs. Eyre and 
 Spottiswoode, acting under the Royal Letters Patent, who will superintend 
 the work of the Essex House Press. 
 
 Mr. Edward Arnold, publisher to the Essex House Press, is now 
 entering subscriptions for the work, and as the few available copies are 
 being rapidly taken up, those who desire to possess this important work 
 are recommended to apply as soon as possible. 
 
 The edition will be strictly limited to a total of four hundred copies 
 for England and America, at a price of Twelve Guineas {J[^\2 12s.) nett. 
 There will also be five copies for England on vellum at Forty Pounds 
 (^40) nett, all of which are already sold.
 
 12 
 
 THE NATIONAL REVIEW. 
 
 Edited by L. J. MAXSE. 
 Price 2S. 6d. net. 
 
 This important Review now occupies the foremost place among the 
 monthly periodicals of the United Kingdom. Its circulation has shown a 
 steady and continuous increase, and is at present more than double what 
 it was five years ago. It has, moreover, established for itself a unique 
 position from the tone of public - spirited independence in which it 
 approaches the political and social questions of the day. The influence 
 of the National Review, and the respect in which it is held, may be 
 gauged from the attention given every month by the Press, both English 
 and foreign, to the articles appearing in the current number, as well as from 
 the list of contributors, some of whose naraes are given below. 
 
 The National Review pays special attention to Foreign Politics, and 
 each number contains a series of Editorial Notes, summing up in a masterly 
 fashion the more important ' Episodes of the Month ' both at home and 
 abroad. Another special feature is the prominence given to the affairs of 
 the United States. Literature and Finance are also ably handled, and 
 articles in a lighter vein are to be found in every number. 
 
 Some of tbe Contributors to tbe ' IHattonal iRcvievv.' 
 
 The Archbishop of Armagh. 
 
 H. O. Arnold-Forster, M.P. 
 
 Lord Alverstone. 
 
 Right Hon. H. H. Asquith, K.C, 
 
 M.P. 
 Lord Aveburv. 
 
 Right Hon. A. J. Balfour, M.P, 
 Sir Rowland Blennerhassett, Bart. 
 Right Hon. St. John Brodrick, M.P. 
 Sir Vincent Caillard. 
 Right Hon. J. Chamberlain, M.P. 
 Arthur Chamberlain. 
 E. T. Cook. 
 
 Lord Curzon of Kedleston. 
 Professor A. V. Dicey, K.C. 
 Right Hon. Sir Moiintstuart 
 
 Grant-Duff. 
 
 Sir Edward Grey, Bart., M.P. 
 
 Col. Lonsdale Hale, R.E. 
 
 Right Hon, Lord George Hamilton, 
 
 M.P. 
 Benjamin Kidd. 
 RuDYARD Kipling. 
 Sidney J. Low. 
 Captain A. T. Mahan. 
 J. A, Fuller Maitland. 
 W, H, Mallock. 
 George Meredith. 
 Dr. Max Nordau. 
 H.M. King Oscar II. 
 Right Hon. Sir Horace Rumbold, 
 
 Bart., G.C.B., G.C.MG. 
 The Marquis of Salisbury, K.G. 
 Sir Leslie Stephen, K.C.B. 
 
 THE TIMES ATLA5. 
 
 This well-known and magnificent work, which is generally considered 
 the finest reference Atlas that has ever been produced, is issued in the 
 following Editions : 
 
 Handsome cloth binding . 
 Half morocco, gilt edges 
 Fully bound Edition de Luxe 
 
 27s. 6d. nett. 
 35s. nett. 
 55s. nett.
 
 13 
 
 Published in the Spring of 1903. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF A TOWN BOY AT WEST- 
 
 MINSTER, 1849-1855. By Captain F. Markham, late Rifle Brigade. 
 Demy 8vo. With Illustrations. los. 6d. nett. 
 
 NATURE'S LAWS AND THE MAKING OF 
 
 PICTURES. By W. L. Wyllie, A.R.A, With over eighty illustrations from 
 drawings by the author, and a few finely executed reproductions of famous 
 paintings in the National Gallery. Super royal 4to., 15s. nett. 
 
 WITH MACDONALD IN UGANDA. By Major 
 
 Herbert H. Austin, C.M.G., D.S.O., R.E., Fellow of the Royal Geographical 
 Society. Demy 8vo. With numerous Illustrations and a Map. 15s. nett. 
 
 THE TALE OF A TOUR IN MACEDONIA. By 
 
 G. F. Abbott. Demy 8vo. With Illustrations and a Map. Second Impression. 
 14s. nett. 
 
 JOURNALS OF FIELD-MARSHAL COUNT VON 
 
 BLUMENTHAL, for 1866 and 1870-71. Edited by Count Albrecht von 
 Blumenthal. Translated by Major A. D. Gillespie-Addison. Demy 8vo. 
 With Portraits and Maps. 12s. 6d. nett. 
 
 THE MINOR MORALIST. By Mrs. Hugh Bell. 
 
 Second Impression. Crown 8vo., 4s. 6d. nett. 
 
 THE DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S : A Play In Four Acts. 
 
 By Mrs. Hugh Bell, Crown 8vo., 23'. 6d. nett. 
 
 NOVELS. 
 
 THE ABSURD REPENTANCE. By St. John Lucas. 
 
 Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 THE LITTLE RED FISH. By Philip Laurence 
 
 Oliphant. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 THE TAINT OF THE CITY. By Charles Eddy, 
 
 Author of ' Winifred and the Stockbroker.' Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 THE TEMPLARS. By E. H. Lacon Watson. 
 
 Crown 8vo. 6s.
 
 14 
 
 STANDARD WORKS FOR THE LIBRARY. 
 
 THE ENEMIES OF ENGLAND. By the Hon. George Peel. 
 Second Impression. Demy 8vo., I2s. 6d. nett. 
 
 IMPERIUM ET LIBERTAS. By Bernard Holland. Demy 8vo., 
 I2S. 6d. nett. 
 
 ENGLAND IN EGYPT. By Viscount Milner, High Commissioner 
 for South Africa. With an additional chapter by Sir Clinton Dawkins. 
 Eleventh Impression. Revised, with Maps. 6s. 
 
 TURKEY IN EUROPE. By Odysseus. With Maps, i vol., demy 8vo., 
 1 6s. 
 
 STYLE. By Walter Raleigh, Professor of English Literature in the 
 University of Glasgow. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo., 5s. 
 
 MILTON. By Walter Raleigh. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. 
 
 WORDSWORTH. By Walter Raleigh. Crown 8vo. cloth, 6s. 
 
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. By Walter Raleigh. Second 
 Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth, 2s. 6d, 
 
 THE HOUSE OF SELEUCUS. By Edwyn Robert Bevan. 2 vols. 
 With Portraits, Plates, and Maps. Demy 8vo., 30s. nett. 
 
 CROSS-BENCH VIEWS ON CURRENT CHURCH QUESTIONS. 
 By H. Hensley Henson, Canon of Westminster and Rector of St. Margaret's. 
 Demy 8vo., 12s. 6d. 
 
 THE CHANCES OF DEATH, and other Studies in Evolution. By Karl 
 Pearson, F.R.S., Author of 'The Ethic of Free Thought,' etc. 2 vols., 
 demy 8vo., Illustrated, 25s. nett. 
 
 ANIMAL BEHAVIOUR. By C. Lloyd Morgan, LL.D., F.R.S., 
 Principal of University College, Bristol. With numerous Illustrations. Large 
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 HABIT AND INSTINCT: A STUDY IN HEREDITY. By Professor 
 Lloyd Morgan. Demy 8vo., i6s. 
 
 FOOD AND THE PRINCIPLES OF DIETETICS. By Robert 
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