Chapter II: Part 2

A gentleman going to see a ritualistic church in London was walking into the chancel when an official stepped forward and said, "You mustn't go in there." "Why not?" said the gentleman. "I'm put here to stop you," said the man. "Oh! I see," said the gentleman, "you're what they call the _rude_ screen, aren't you?"

A clergyman in the diocese of Wakefield told me that when he first came to the parish he found things in a very neglected state, and among other changes he introduced an early celebration of the Holy Communion. An old clerk collected the offertory, and when he brought it up to the clergyman he said, "There's eight on 'em, but two 'asn't paid."

A verger was showing a lady over a church when she asked him if the vicar was a married man. "No, ma'am," he answered, "he's a chalybeate."

A verger showing a large church to a stranger, pointed out another man and said, "That is the other verger." The gentleman said, "I did not know there were two of you," and the verger replied, "Oh yes, sir, he werges up one side of the church and I werges up the other."

Two little stories connected with Bishop Walsham How's episcopal
life may well conclude the anecdotes about vergers. The Bishop's
dislike of ostentation was well known. He caused much amusement
on one occasion when living in London, by frustrating the
designs of a pompous verger. It had been this man's custom to
meet the Bishop at the door of the church, and precede him up
the centre aisle _en route_ for the vestry, thus making a little
extra procession of his own. One day the Bishop, after handing
this verger his bag, let him go on his way up the centre of the
church, and himself slipped off up a side aisle, and gained the
vestry unobserved, while the verger marched up in a solemn
procession of _one_!

The other story occurs in the note-book, and runs as follows:

On my first visit to Almondbury to preach, the verger came to me in the vestry, and said, "A've put a platform in t' pulpit for ye; you'll excuse me, but a little man looks as if he was in a toob." (N.B. To prevent undue inferences I am five feet nine inches in height.)

Bishop Walsham How's love of children was well known, and it is
not surprising to find a large number of stories about them in
his note-book. These stories are mainly of two kinds, those
relating to answers made in Sunday school, &c., and those of a
more general nature.

Some examples of the latter follow, but it must be borne in mind
that these stories have, many of them, become well known owing
to the Bishop's fondness of telling them. If he was not able to
enjoy children's society, the next best thing was to talk about
them.

A very little girl, when taken to church, always knelt down reverently to say a short prayer when she went in. Her mother, not having taught her any prayer to say at that time, asked her to tell her what she said. The child answered that she always prayed that there might be no Litany.

A little boy had a German nursery governess, and told her he thought she ought to learn Hebrew. On her saying she didn't see the use of that, he explained that it was that she might say her prayers properly, for he was sure God knew Hebrew, but he didn't think He could be expected to understand German.

A child being taken to the seaside for the first time, was asked how she liked it, and in answer said it was very beautiful, but she didn't see "all the tinnimies," an expectation due to her private version of the Fourth Commandment.

I recollect, when a child, being exceedingly interested and affected by a story which used to be read to me from a small periodical--I think it was called the _Magazine for the Young_--about two boys who went to school. Their names were Master Cruelty and Master Innocent Sweetlove, the former taking with him to school a bow and arrow, and the latter a dove in a cage and a lute. The natural result followed, Master Cruelty shooting Master Innocent Sweetlove's dove, and the latter thereupon taking his lute into the churchyard, and, seated on a tombstone, solacing his grief with mournful music. This seemed to me very beautiful!

One of the children of the Vicar of St. Peter's, Eaton Square, told his father he thought some of the things they collected for in church were very silly. He could not think why they should have a collection for the Bishop of London's fun.

Archdeacon Denison told me that his brother, when a boy, among many bits of mischief did the following: His father was very fond of pictures, and had one of the death of Isaac in which the patriarch appeared lying on a couch in a splendid crimson damask tent supported by four Corinthian pillars, with a beautiful white damask table-cloth spread on the table before him. Through the tent door you saw Esau running after a stag while Jacob was bringing in the savoury meat. The offender one day carefully painted on the corner of the table-cloth "Isaac 6."

A boy being asked whether he always said his prayers, said, "Yes, always at night." He was then asked, "And why not in the morning?" To which he answered, "Because a strong boy of nine, like me, ought to be able to take care of himself in the daytime."

Two little boys, grandchildren of a former vicar of Great Yarmouth, were looking at some pictures in a copy of "Bunyan's Holy War," and found one of the devil chained. One of them asked his mother whether the devil was chained, and, being told "no," asked whether he ever would be. To this she answered, "Yes, some day." The boy replied, "When he is, need we say our prayers?"

The Bishop had a niece who is head-mistress of the Godolphin
High School at Salisbury, and the following story was told him
by her.

A child at the school asked if there were any saints now. The mistress replied that she hoped there were many, on which the child said, "Then, I suppose they've left off wearing those hats," by which she meant the _nimbus_.

The next story is told of a little great-niece of the Bishop
called Molly.

Little Molly, aged four, after saying her prayers one evening to her aunt, remarked, "There's no one to make you say your prayers as you make me." "No," her aunt said, "we don't want any one to make us, for we like saying our prayers." "Do you?" said Molly, "Then I wish you'd ask God not to let my goloshes fall off so often."

A little girl unused to surpliced choirs, on seeing such a choir enter the church, whispered in dismay to her mother, "They're not _all_ going to preach, are they?"

The Bishop was chairman of the Committee of the Society for
providing Homes for Waifs and Strays, and in connection with
this work told the following story:

Some children kept some hens, and were allowed to sell the eggs for the "Waifs and Strays." One Sunday morning they brought nine eggs in to their father and mother, and said, "We did give it out to the hens that there would be a collection to-day."

The annual children's parties which the Bishop delighted to
give were great events, and the following incident which
occurred at one of them must find a place here:

At a children's party given by me shortly after the death of Archbishop Thompson we had a Punch and Judy to amuse the children. The man who showed it came up to my son before the performance and said that he had heard that I had been at the Archbishop's funeral, and perhaps I should prefer his leaving out the coffin scene!

Here are some odd notions about the unseen world which were
developed in the brains of some of the Bishop's little friends:

Little Rupert B----, aged just three, one day when it was raining, said to his father that he did not think heaven could be a nice place to live in. "Why not?" asked his father. "Because," he answered, "the floor is all full of holes and lets the water through." Before he was three a little baby sister was born, and he was taken into his mother's room to see her. "Where did it come from?" he asked. His mother said, "God sent it us." "Then," said Rupert, "I suppose it is a sort of an angel." His mother explained that it was only a baby. "Hasn't it got any wings?" he asked, and on being told "No," added, "Hasn't it got any feathers at all?"

A little boy, hearing the hymn read which says,

"Satan trembles when he sees
The feeblest saint upon his knees,"

asked, "Why does Satan let the saint sit on his knees if it makes him tremble?"

A little girl who had been taking raspberries in the garden was talked to by her mother, and told to resist the temptation. She afterwards appeared with evident signs of having been again among the raspberries, and, when her mother asked her how it was that she had not resisted the temptation, she said that when she was looking at the raspberries she did say "Get thee behind me, Satan," and he got behind her and pushed her in.

A very little girl was asked, "Who made you?" She answered very reverently, "God," and then, looking shocked, whispered, "Nurse says He made me naked."

On my visit to Illingworth to consecrate a new chancel in 1889, the churchwarden gave a luncheon party, and his little boy, aged nine, told my chaplain that he wanted to go to church to be confirmed. The chaplain told him it was not a confirmation but a consecration, whereupon the small boy said he didn't care which it was so long as he was done.

A little cousin of mine when very small was asked who was the first man, to which he promptly answered "Adam." He was next asked who was the first woman, when he thought a little, and then hesitatingly suggested "Madam."

Bishop Knight Bruce's little boy accounted for the number of fleas in South Africa by saying, "God made lots and lots of people, so you see He _had_ to make lots and lots of fleas."

A little girl, known to Mr. Edward Clifford, hearing much of the praise of stylishness, once prayed, "O Lord, make me stylish."

When the Bishop was rector of Whittington he was a most
diligent teacher in the village school, going there from nine to
ten almost every morning. He was also for some years a diocesan
inspector of schools. He was, therefore, keenly alive to the
numberless mistakes and misapprehensions of children, and
recorded in his note-book a large number of absurd answers which
he either heard himself or of which he was told by friends. A
selection of these is given here.

In examining the schools of the deanery of Oswestry I once visited Selattyn school, and set four questions for the senior class to answer in writing. They were, (1) "What do you know about Tarsus?" (2) "Why did St. Paul go to Damascus?" (3) "What is the meaning of Asia in the New Testament?" (4) "What happened at Lystra?" The following is a copy of one paper sent in:

John Jones, 12 last birthday, a teacher in Selattyn. Tarsus was a man which could not walked from his mother womb and he used to go to the temple every day and St. Paul heal him St. Paul said to tartus I say unto thee arise so Tarsus sat up and leap and walked.

St. Paul went to Damascus to preach to the Gentiles. Asia means the place where they ended when they started from Antiock to Asia.

It happened at Lystra that the two seas met and the soldiers cut the ropes.

The Vicar of King Cross, Halifax, asked a class of boys what was the difference between a priest and a deacon, and one boy said the deacon only wore that thing over one shoulder. The Vicar asked why he did so, and after some hesitation another boy answered, "Because he hasn't put both shoulders to the wheel."

At Almondbury in 1897 a class of boys were asked the meaning of an Archangel, and one boy suggested "One of the angels that came out of the Ark."

The Rev. T. F. Dale, when in India teaching in his school, asked the boys what is the meaning of faith. A European boy answered, "When you believe something you are quite sure isn't true."

A lady was explaining to a class the passage "Not with eye-service as men-pleasers," and asked the children if they knew what eye-service meant. One girl suggested, "service in 'igh families."

Mr. B---- of Stamford, in a Teachers' Meeting, urged his Sunday School teachers not to take it for granted that their scholars knew the meaning of words, and illustrated his caution by the word "Epiphany," telling them that they should always explain that it meant "manifestation." Shortly afterwards the diocesan inspector was examining the day school and accidentally asked what "Epiphany" meant. One little girl said, "A railway porter, sir." The inspector asking what made her think that. She said her teacher had told her it meant the "man at the station."

A lady being anxious to teach a new little kitchen-maid something of the Bible, rightly thought she must find out what she knew. So she asked her if she knew about our Lord, and she said "No." So she thought she must begin at the very beginning, and told the girl she would read to her about God making the world. The girl sat perfectly stolid and unintelligent till they came to the serpent tempting Eve, when she suddenly exclaimed, "I remember summat about that snike." This was her _summa theologiae_.

A child in a school was asked what he knew about Solomon, and said, "He was very fond of animals." Being asked what made him think so, he said, "Because he had three hundred porcupines."

Here is a very up-to-date little story: did it happen in
Leicester?

Teacher: "Why did they hide Moses in the bulrushes?"

Answer: "Because they didn't want him to be vaccinated."

My cousin, Mr. G. F. King, teaching a class of little London boys one Sunday, was questioning them about the parable of the Good Samaritan, and asked them what it was that the man "fell among." He tried to get them to remember by saying that it was a dangerous road to travel along, when one little boy held up his hand. My cousin said, "Well, what did he fall among?" and the little boy replied, "Buses."

An anachronism:

The Duke of York lately visited Leeds, and there were large crowds in the streets. Shortly afterwards one of the clergy was questioning some little children about the birth of our Lord, and asked, "How came there to be so many people at Bethlehem at that time?" One of the children replied, "Please, sir, the Duke of York was there."

At Denbigh a girl at Howell's school was reading St. Matt. v. 41 to the rector of Henllan, and gave it thus: "And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him by train."

Mr. Castley, curate of Marsden, questioning the children in the school as to the history of St. Stephen, asked what it was of which he was accused before the Council. A boy replied, "Looking after the widows."

When the diocesan inspector was examining the Cathedral Schools, Wakefield, in 1895, he asked the children what Moses said when God told him to go and speak to Pharaoh. One child answered, "Our Aaron would do it better."

The next story was an experience of the Bishop's own when he
was rector of Whittington:

I once set a class of girls in our school to write the life of Solomon. When I looked over the exercises I found one girl began, "Solomon slept with his fathers," and went on after that with his history. On questioning her I found she thought it meant that Solomon when a child slept in his father's bed.

Another girl at the same time brought me a new and wonderful judgment of Solomon in the following words: "The Queen of Sheba was as wise a woman as Solomon was a man. She brought a hundred children, fifty boys and fifty girls, to Solomon, all dressed the same, to see if he could tell which was which. So Solomon commanded water to be brought and bade them wash; whereupon the girls washed up to their elbows, but the boys only washed up to their wrists. So Solomon knew which was boys and which was girls."

The headmaster of the Wakefield Grammar School in an examination-paper on general knowledge asked, "Who was John Wesley?" One boy answered as follows: "John Wesley invented Methodist chapels, and afterwards became Duke of Wellington."

My daughter was teaching a class of boys at Upper Clapton just before the boat race, when she saw one of the boys tear a page out of his Bible, crumple it up, and throw it away. She said, "What are you doing?" to which the boy replied quite demurely, "I'm for Oxford, and this Bible was printed at Cambridge, and I'm not going to use a Bible with Cambridge in it."

The Vicar of St. Augustine's, South Hackney, turned a boy out of his class one Sunday for misbehaviour. Next Sunday the boy appeared again in his class, when the vicar said, "Wasn't it you I put out last Sunday?" The boy at once replied, "No, sir, I think it was the gas."

A boy in an examination, being asked to give an account of the Sadducees and Publicans, wrote, "The Sadducees did not believe in spirits, but the Publicans _did_."

Here follows another story which, in common with the last two or
three, was noted by the Bishop during the time of his
suffragan-episcopate for East London.

The diocesan inspector was examining a very young class in the St. Mary Axe Ward School, and asked, "What became of Adam and Eve when they were turned out of the Garden of Eden?" To which a little girl answered, "They went to the workhouse, sir."

In a school examination the question was set, "Explain the meaning of a Bishop, Priest, and Deacon." One boy answered, "I never saw a Bishop, so I don't know. A Priest is a man in the Old Testament. A Deacon is a thing you pile up on the top of a hill, and set fire to it."

A boy, being asked for the derivation of Pontifex, said, "It is derived from _pons_ a bridge, and means the Chief Priest, just as we say _Arch_bishop."

Some children in an Irish school were asked the meaning of "He that exalteth himself shall be abased," when one of them replied, "Turned into horses or cows."

A Confirmation having been held in a Yorkshire village, some children were seen very busy in the road making a church with mud. A passer-by asked them where the bishop was, and they said they hadn't got mook enough to mak' a beeshop.

A boy in Christ Church, Albany Street, School when asked, "What are the Ember weeks?" answered, "The weeks when we pray for the young gentlemen who are afraid of not passing their examination."

Prizes have for several years been offered for the best essays by children on subjects set the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. In 1893, in answer to the question, "What passages in Holy Scripture bear upon cruelty to animals?" one boy said, "Cruel people often cut dogs' tails and ears, but the Bible says, 'Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.'" Another boy, in reply to the question, "Why should you be kind to animals?" said, "If you are very kind to a dog he will follow you to the grave at your funeral."

The next two stories are not of exactly the same nature, but so
closely relate to the subject of children and schools that they
may be fittingly inserted here.

I met an officer once who was relating his experiences of Sunday School teaching. He said he met an old schoolfellow one day who was a clergyman, and who persuaded him to spend a Sunday with him. In the morning his friend told him that he must come and take a class of boys in the Sunday School. This he protested he could not, and would not, do, but was finally over-persuaded, his friend lending him a commentary, and telling him he had only to keep the class quiet, as he would his own men, hear them read a chapter, and ask them a few questions which he would find in the notes of the commentary. "All went well," he said, "till we had read the chapter through, when I tried to find the questions. I managed to ask one or two, which I found they answered in a moment, so in my despair I thought I would take them into the Old Testament, and now I was more lucky, for I asked them, 'Boys, who was Mephistopheles?' Well, would you believe it, there wasn't a boy of them that knew! And wasn't I glad! I didn't know anything about him myself, you know, except that he was one of the old patriarchs, but it got me out of this trouble, for, though the time wasn't half up, I closed the Bible with a bang and exclaimed, 'Boys! I can teach you no more. Go home and search the Scriptures!'"

A clergyman living at Rainbow Hill, Worcester, in visiting his parish, called on the mother of one of the girls in the Church School, who, being rather "superior," told him she thought a parish school was not quite suited to Florrie, and, as she was rather delicate, she had decided to take her away and send her to a young ladies' cemetery.

Besides the mistakes made by children, the Bishop not
unnaturally collected a number of curious answers made in
examination papers by older people. The candidates for
ordination in the Wakefield diocese supplied some of these, and
others he was told by his brother-bishops. Some of these stories
were told in the "Memoir of Bishop Walsham How," and others may
be well known, but they form an important part of the Bishop's
note-book, and must not be omitted here.

The following are answers made in writing by different
candidates for ordination:

A number of words were given for explanation, and among them was "cherub." One man wrote, "A cherub is an infant angel, who died before baptism, and will undoubtedly be saved."

Another question was, "How may St. Paul's Epistles be grouped?" One answer was, "St. Paul's Epistles may be divided into two groups, those he wrote before his conversion and those he wrote after."

Another candidate rather surprised the examiner by stating that "in the early Church, before a person was baptized, he was obliged to learn a catechumen."

Another, to the question "Who were the Ophites?" gave the interesting answer that "the Ophites were people who walked by sight and not by faith, the word being derived from the Greek word for to see."

In the Ripon diocese an ordination candidate, in answer to the question, "What religious sects have been founded during the last two centuries?" gave a list which included "the Ecclesiastical Commissioners."

An ordination candidate, being asked in a paper on doctrine to write out the Nicene Creed, wrote (with a magnificent grasp of faith), "I believe in all things visible and invisible."

The Vice-President of the Liverpool Philomathic Society vouches for the story that, in answer to the question "Define a parable," an examinee wrote, "A parable is a heavenly story with no earthly meaning."

A young man having attended some University Extension lectures on physiology, remarked to his clergyman how much light they threw on many things. "For instance," he said, "I never understood one of the Collects in the Prayer-book, which speaks of 'both our hearts,' before. But I see now that it refers to the right and the left ventricle."

Here is another physiological story:

The late Canon Lyttelton, of Gloucester, when rector of Hagley, was fond of scientific teaching, and formed a class in his school for physiology. After a few lectures he received a letter from the mother of one of his pupils, saying, "Reverend sir, Please not to teach our Susan anything more about her inside; it makes her so proud."

In a paper on practical subjects one of the questions asked what rules for almsgiving could be recommended. One of the candidates advised a plan he had seen of having about six boxes in the house, and sending them round at meals for various charities according to the viands on the table. Thus, when the fish was served the box for the Deep Sea Fisheries would be sent round, and when pineapples were being eaten that for the S.P.G.

In answer to the question, "What is a churchwarden?" one of the Battersea College students wrote, "A churchwarden is a godly layman, who appropriates the money of the offertory, and acts as a check upon the extravagance of the parochial clergy."

A friend of mine, when taking missions in Australia, met a clergyman in Victoria who had an old Sunday-school teacher, a man who had taught for thirty years, and who asked him one day whether infant baptism was not invented by Philo at the Council of Trent.

The Warden of University College, Durham, asks the young men of the College to breakfast occasionally. One day, when a few of them were at his table, the following conversation took place: Warden to student, "Have you ever read the Apocrypha?" Student to Warden, "Not all, sir." Warden, "How much have you read?" Student, "Oh, not much, sir." Warden, "Have you read the Maccabees?" Student, "No, sir." Warden, "Or Esdras?" Student, "No, sir." Warden, "Or Wisdom?" Student, "No, sir." Warden, "Well, have you read Bell and the Dragon?" Student, "Oh yes, sir, I've read part of that." Warden, "How much?" Student, "Three chapters, I think." Warden, "Then you've read more than any of us, for there is only one chapter." Poor student!

In one of the examination papers I set as examining chaplain to Bishop Selwyn of Lichfield, it being Michaelmas, I asked the candidates to give an outline of a sermon upon the text, "Are they not all ministering spirits?" One man wrote as follows: "I should consider this a good text for a sermon for the Additional Curates' Society or the Church Pastoral Aid. I should begin by describing in what our ministrations consist, and should speak of the privilege of being called to minister to others. I should then go on to speak of the heirs of salvation to whom we minister, and I should conclude with an earnest appeal to the congregation to provide funds for the sending forth of more such ministering spirits."

A candidate for ordination was asked what he knew of St. Bartholomew, and wrote, "He was almost, if not quite, identical with Nathanael."

Bishop Bickersteth of Ripon had occasion to reject a conceited young deacon who was a candidate for priest's orders, and when the bishop told him of his failure, he said, "I suppose, my Lord, you know that Ambrose was made a bishop, though only a deacon." "Yes," the bishop replied, "and I quite think that if ever _you_ are made a bishop it will be direct from the diaconate."

Archdeacon Bather, who was a great educationist, went into his parish school one day where there was an old and not highly educated master, who was giving an oral lesson on the English language, in which, he said to his class, there are many words pronounced the same, but spelt quite different. "Now," he said, "there's the word 'har.' There's the har you breathe, and the har of your head, and the har that runs in the fields, and the har to an estate, all spelt quite different, but all pronounced the same."

The Bishop of Brisbane, when he was in England before his consecration, was examining in one of the Oxford Local examinations. He set the candidates to write out the Fourth Commandment. One wrote, "Six days shall thy neighbour do all that thou hast to do, and the seventh day thou shalt do no manner of work."

A number of stories in the Bishop's note-book are connected with
Scotland and Ireland. Both of these countries were resorted to
from time to time by him for purposes of the annual fishing
holiday, and it is not too much to say that he made many friends
in each among the ghillies and others who accompanied him on his
various excursions on loch and riverside. Great was the
amusement of two Highland boatmen, who many years ago were
rowing him on a Sutherlandshire loch, when during an hour when
the fish were very "stiff," he sang them, "Hame cam our gude mon
at e'en," an old Scotch ballad by Wilson. The Irish boatmen, he
used to think, were more melancholy, and he expressed his
surprise at the character for rollicking fun which is often
given them in books. At the same time he now and then drew out a
real witticism, and more than once he notes with delight a real
Irish "bull." Here are some of the stories, not all gleaned from
the actual countries, but all referring to persons of these two
nationalities:

An Irish clergyman, a neighbour of mine, thought it his duty to speak to a lady who had unhappily lost her faith in Christianity, and after a few arguments he ended by saying, "Well, you will go to hell, you know, and I shall be very sorry indeed to see you there."

A well-known Irish judge in the Insolvent Court once detected a witness kissing his thumb instead of the Book in taking the oath, and in rebuking him sternly said, "You may think to deceive God, sir, but you won't deceive _me_."

The Reverend G. B----, of Bridgenorth, told me that on a recent visit to Ireland he heard a preacher conclude his sermon with these words: "My brethren, let not this world rob you of a peace which it can neither give nor take away."

At the conclusion of the Irish Church Disestablishment in the House of Commons an enthusiastic Irish member got up and thanked God that at last the bridge was broken down which had so long separated Catholics and Protestants in Ireland.

An Englishman was driving through a beautiful glen in county Wicklow, and asked the driver the name of the valley, to which he replied, "Sure, and it's the divil's glen, yer honour." A little further on the stranger again asked, and the driver said, "Sure, and it's still the divil's glen, yer honour." They afterwards drove through another valley, and the stranger said, "And pray what do you call this?" "It's the divil's kitchen, yer honour," was the reply. The stranger then remarked, "He seems to have a good deal of property in these parts." "Indade, yer honour, he has," said the driver, "but he's mostly an absentee, and lives in London."

An Irish professor created a laugh, when called upon to speak at the Birmingham Church Congress, by beginning, with a rich brogue, "Before I begin to speak, let me say----" No one heard any more of the sentence.

At Bishop Lonsdale's first Ordination at his palace at Eccleshall there were a large number of young men, and at dinner a young Irish deacon called out from the other end of the table to the Bishop, "Me Lord, do you happen to have read my sermon on Justification by Faith?" "No," said the Bishop, "I don't happen to have met with it; but surely, Mr. ----, you have chosen rather a difficult subject." "Not at all, me Lord," the young deacon called out, "and when you've read my sermon you'll find no difficulty in the subject at all!"

A former Dean (an Irishman) in one of his sermons, speaking, as he often did, disparagingly of the Fathers of the early Church, said, "As for unanimity, there was no unanimity in any one of them." In another sermon the same dignitary spoke about "Standing on the seashore and watching the ever-receding horizon." Again, in another he urged his hearers to "take their immovable stand on the onward path of progress."

An Irishman of a certain church in Shrewsbury spoke one day of "the narrow way in which there was only room for one to walk abreast."

A certain clergyman, who was preaching a sermon on behalf of a new burial ground in a large parish, spoke of the sad condition of a population of thirty thousand souls living without Christian burial.

I was driving in a car from Glengariff to Killarney with a friend, and, on starting, a ragged boy on an old white horse rode by our side joking with the driver. My friend spoke to the boy, and said, "Are you the boots at the inn at Glengariff?" To which the boy answered instantly with a grin, "Did yer honour pay the boots? For, if you didn't, I am."

This ready reply is matched by the following story which again
shows the readiness to seize an opportunity of personal
advantage.

Bishop Wigram of Rochester insisted on his clergy shaving, and when his successor, Bishop Claughton, came to confirm in Oswestry he sat at luncheon opposite to an Irish curate who had a large beard. The bishop, as a joke, looked across the table and said, "You know, Mr.----, if you came into my diocese you would have to shave off your beard." To which came the instant reply, "Me Lord, I accept the condition!"

At a Retreat which I conducted in 1894 one of the services was given out to be held a quarter of an hour earlier than on the printed time-table. An elderly clergyman had not heard this and came in at the printed hour, and found us singing a hymn. He found a seat and then whispered to his neighbour with a strong brogue, "Is this the end of the last service, or the beginning of the next?"

I once heard an Irish clergyman preaching at Barmouth, in recounting the mercies for which we ought to be thankful, speak of "deliverance from savage wild beasts and noxious insects of the night."

An instance of an Irish bull, which was of so natural a kind
that it might have been made by any one, occurred when the
Bishop and some of his sons were waiting at Athenry Station. Two
farmers were overheard talking, and one said, "Will you be going
by the first train to-morrow" To which came the reply, "There's
no first train from here at all!"

There are in the note-book a large number of entries under the
heading of "Taurology," but most of the stories are already well
known. One or two only need be quoted.

Two sisters whom I knew, Miss B----s, received a letter from a brother in Australia, and one read it aloud to the other and then began reading it to herself. The other said, "You might let me have a look at it," whereupon the first cried out, "I call that selfish: didn't I read it all aloud to you before I'd seen a word of it meself?"

I asked a Mr. B---- whom I met in July 1896 whether he was any relation to another Mr. B----, a friend of mine, to which he replied, "No: I have no relations of my own. My father was the last of his race."

An Irish footman brought for his master to put on two boots for the same foot. He was sent to rectify the mistake, but returned with the same two boots, saying, "Indeed, yer honour, it wasn't my fault, the other pair's just the same."

The difference between Scotch and Irish character comes out
clearly in these stories. Connected as they almost all are with
matters ecclesiastical, it is not strange to find the strong
Presbyterian dislike to Anglican ceremonial cropping up in the
following stories about Scotsmen. But, apart from this, the wit
is of a drier kind, and the sayings of a far more sanctimonious
character. Here is one about an old forester with whom the
Bishop made friends during several of his holidays. This man was
invited by a certain duke, whose retainer he was, to pay a visit
to his English seat. On the Sunday he was taken to church, and
he said afterwards that when the choir came in he thought it was
some daughters of the duke and other girls dressed up, and
thought it all perfectly disgraceful and making a mock of
religion. When the organ played they had to hold him to prevent
his going out. "It was," he said, "sic a terrible noise." Other
stories follow in the Bishop's own words:

The Duchess of B---- had an old Presbyterian nurse, who was once persuaded to attend the beautiful church they had built. The Duchess afterwards asked her if it was not very beautiful, and she said, "Oh yes, very." "And the singing," said the Duchess, "was not that lovely?" "Yes, your Grace," she said, "it was lovely; but it's an awfu' way of spending the Sabbath."

A Scotch lady and her gardener used to worship together, not agreeing with any form of Church doctrine. A friend remonstrated with her and asked, "Do you really think you and your gardener are the only two real members of the true Church on earth?" To which she replied, "Weel, I'm nae sae sure o' John."

A Scotch minister from a large town once visited and preached in a rural parish, and was asked to pray for rain. He did so, and the rain came in floods and destroyed some of the crops; whereupon one elder remarked to another, "This comes o' entrusting sic a request to a meenister who isna acquentit wi' agriculture."

Bishop Wilberforce used to tell a story of a Scotch minister who always regulated his grace before meat by the prospect before him. If he saw a sumptuous table he began, "Bountiful Jehovah," but if the fare was less tempting he began, "Lord, we are not worthy of the least of Thy mercies."

Archbishop Tait when in Scotland had to sign the receipt for a registered letter before the postman, who, when he heard it was the Archbishop, looked at him and remarked, "Weel, I must say you look rather consequential about the legs."

One of the Bishop's sons was fond of sketching, and on one
occasion brought back a story which the Bishop delighted in
telling. This son and an artist friend arranged to go on a
sketching expedition to the west coast of Scotland, and on
arriving there the latter went to interview the minister of the
little village which was to be their headquarters. In the course
of conversation he asked the minister whether, if they attended
his ministrations in the morning, he would be greatly
scandalised if they did a little sketching on the Sunday
afternoon, to which the good man replied, "Well, your business
is to paint pictures and mine is to preach and pray. I preach
and pray on the Sabbath, you paint pictures on other days. If
you saw me preaching and praying on other days you would raise
no objection, so I shall raise none if you paint pictures on the
Sabbath." It was a curious argument, and probably it would be
difficult to find another minister in all Scotland who would
agree with him.

A number of stories relating to sermons have already been given,
but a large part of the Bishop's notebook which relates to them
has not yet been touched. There are some sermons given almost
_in extenso_, and to these it is only possible to refer briefly.
The longest report of a sermon is of one that was printed after
it had been delivered by an old gentleman who married his cook
and thought that it was necessary to justify his action to his
parishioners. He described his bride as "one of plebeian birth
and the superintendent of my establishment." He based his
explanation on the fact that he himself was of such
extraordinarily high birth that, in order to make his hearers
comprehend how utterly incapable he was of appreciating the
little social distinctions which existed in that parish he would
tell them that he could no more appreciate such distinctions
than, standing upon a mountain, he could judge of the heights,
as compared with each other, of the mole-hills lying scattered
around its base. Where, therefore, was he to a find a woman, and
moreover a woman willing to take charge of a gouty old gentleman
like himself, whose birth in comparison with his own was not
plebeian? In the matter of his wife's little peculiarities of
pronunciation, &c., he would just remind any satirists that
their tenements were constructed of a material certainly not
iron, and that to such persons the throwing of stones was a
proverbially dangerous practice. He announced in conclusion that
all these things were of small importance, as he and his wife
had resolved to lead a life of almost absolute seclusion,
devoting themselves entirely to her improvement, to the duties
of their station, and to the preparation of their souls for
heaven.

Another long extract is given from a sermon preached at
Llanymawddy. The original is said to be in the British Museum,
and the copy made by Dr. Griffith of Merthyn. The sermon is
headed "A funeral sermon for a dead body," and is a wonderful
example of "English as she is spoke" by the Welshman. It begins
with these words: "Good people of Llanymawddy. My dearly beloved
brethren, we are met together here to-day for a great preachment
for a dead body, the body of good Squire Thomas, the squire of
our parish. We did all love him, though he has scolded us
shocking, &c."

The preacher went on to say that he knew the words of his text
in three languages, "The Latin tongue which is the language of
all learned people: I do know them in the English language--it
is the language of all genteel people. I do know them in the
Welsh language of course--it is the language of all vulgar
people."

Much of the sermon is given up to a description of Adam and Eve,
the latter being described as "the beautifullest of all women,
but she was a very peculiar woman. She wanted to know everything
she ought not to know." The Garden of Eden is thus portrayed:
"The garden of Squire Thomas was nothing to it: it would take
twenty thousand of Squire Thomas' to make such a garden."

It is altogether a most wonderful discourse, and it would be
well worth anyone's while to hunt it up in the British Museum,
if the original is really to be found there.

Then there is an extract from a sermon preached by an Irish
bishop, which, says Bishop Walsham How, "I heard described by
one of his clergy who heard it." The point of the sermon was an
illustration of the joy over the one repentant sinner by the joy
in a household over the baby which had been ill and had
recovered. The curious part of the story lies in the fact that
at every mention of the baby the preacher dandled his hands up
and down as if he were holding it. The constant repetition of
this must have been trying to the gravity.

A few more "sermon-notes" may find a place here just as they
were jotted down by the Bishop.

A certain preacher, after describing all sorts of evil, exclaimed, "And all this in the so-called nineteenth century!"

A working man refused to go to church because (he said) the parson could tell him nothing in a sermon he didn't know. However, a friend persuaded him to go, and asked him afterwards if he had learnt nothing. "Well, yes," he said, "I did learn one thing. I learnt as Sodom and Gomorrha was two places. I always thought they was man and wife."

It is said that Dean Goulbourn while preaching on the intermixture of evil with good in the Church, said, "Remember, there was a Ham in the Ark"--then, thinking it might sound odd, corrected himself and added, "I mean a human Ham."

CONCERNING BISHOPS.

As might be expected, a very large number of stories in the
Bishop's note-book concern Episcopal dignitaries either past or
present. It is unfortunate that some of the very best are told
of bishops who are still alive, and, although there is not an
ill-natured word on any single page, yet it might not be
advisable to publish these anecdotes, lest this little volume
should be open to the charge of want of respect for those in
high places.

How often a story is told of, say Bishop Wilberforce, and at its
conclusion the narrator says, "Or perhaps it was Bishop Magee,"
entirely forgetting the wide difference between these witty
prelates, and spoiling the story by his uncertainty. It will be
noticed that some of the better-known stories which are given
below have Bishop Walsham How's own evidence of their origin,
and it is possible that in some cases their publication may be
useful as clearing up all doubts as to their source. For
instance, he knew well both Bishop Wilberforce and Bishop
Magee, and for the stories about them he frequently vouches.

The Bishop of Winchester (Wilberforce) is renowned for his wit. I was one day dining in his company. He was to the right of the lady of the house, Canon G---- to her left, and I next to him. Canon G---- was talking to the bishop across the lady of the house about a very old man, and observed that he was losing his faculties very fast, his senses of taste and smell being so completely gone that some naughty boys in his house, knowing that he always had a lightly boiled egg for breakfast, blew it one morning and filled it with castor oil, and he never found out. The bishop looked up with one of his merry twinkles and simply said, "Never?"

On another occasion at a dinner party a young man was talking rather foolishly about Darwin and his books, speaking very contemptuously of them, and he said to the bishop, "My Lord, have you read Darwin's last book on the Descent of Man?" "Yes, I have," said the bishop; whereupon the young man continued, "What nonsense it is talking of our being descended from apes! Besides, I can't see the use of such stuff. I can't see what difference it would make to me if my grandfather was an ape." "No," the bishop replied, "I don't see that it would; but it must have made an amazing difference to your grandmother!" The young man had no more to say. I could quote many more witty sayings of the bishop, but they would give no idea of the real humour with which they were spoken, so much depending on the bishop's inimitable manner and tone of voice.

Bishop Wilberforce, in one of his instructions upon preaching, gave descriptions of what were _not_ sermons, before proceeding to describe what _was_ a sermon. One of his sentences was this: "A few texts floating here and there in the feeble waste of your own turbid fancies--_that's_ not a sermon."

The same bishop, after preaching a very eloquent charity sermon, was going from the pulpit to the altar when an enthusiastic lady, too much moved to wait for the offertory plate, put a half-sovereign into his hand, saying, "I _must_ give my mite," to which he replied, looking at the coin, "I thought there were two of them."

A great friend of Bishop Wilberforce told me of a little bit of cleverness of his which is worth recording. He was telling a story of an Italian Marchesa, in which she made a clever repartee in French. The bishop was known not to be very perfect in French, and my informant said he awaited his enunciation of the French remark with some anxiety. But he need not have been anxious, for the bishop discounted any shortcomings by saying, "Then the Marchesa said--(you know her French was not very perfect)----" and so made the quotation.

Of Archbishop Magee the following stories are recorded by the
Bishop:

I was with Bishop Magee in a railway carriage once, and he had the _Church Times_ and the _Rock_ on his knees. Before the train started a newspaper boy held up a copy of _Church Bells_ to him, and he looked up and said, "What's that? Oh, _Church Bells_. That's moderate, isn't it? No, thank you; I like to read the extremes and do the moderation for myself."

The same bishop at a dinner party had some soup spilt over his coat by a clumsy servant, and exclaimed, "Is there any layman who would kindly express my feelings in suitable language?"

Bishop Magee at a City dinner was sitting next to some one who had to propose the health of Alderman Pigeon, of whom he knew very little. He asked the bishop what he could say about him: "Oh," was the reply, "say you hope he will some day find himself in a mayor's nest."

Here is a story which is frequently quoted, and is inserted here
for the sake of the guarantee of authenticity:

The Bishop of Peterborough (Magee), being plagued to go and open all sorts of things--churches, schools, bazaars, &c.--exclaimed one day, "I do believe very soon there will not be a young curate in the diocese who has bought a new umbrella, who will not apply to the bishop to come and open it." (Said to the Bishop of Leicester, who told me.)

Bishop Magee, walking one day with the Bishop of Hereford by the Wye, said to him, "If you will give me your river I will give you my see."

The Bishop of Peterborough, being pressed to give a certain man a living, said, "If it rained livings I would offer Mr. ---- (after a pause) an umbrella." (This was said by the bishop in the Athenaeum to a friend of mine, who told me.)

A lady who was a great admirer of a certain preacher took Bishop Magee with her to hear him, and asked him afterwards what he thought of the sermon. "It was very long," the bishop said. "Yes," said the lady, "but there was a saint in the pulpit." "And a martyr in the pew," rejoined the bishop.

Lastly, there is a touching little story of his self-estimation:

The Bishop of Peterborough (Magee), speaking of Bishop Harold Browne, said he owed him a grudge, "for he's got all my sweetness of disposition as well as his own."

The remaining stories about bishops fall under two heads--first,
those which are told definitely of some particular bishop;
secondly, those which are told of "a bishop," and to which too
much credit need not necessarily be given.

Under the first heading come the following:

A certain bishop [the name is given] on his marriage determined to go abroad, and he and his bride spent the first night at Folkestone, meaning to cross next day to Boulogne. There was a great crowd on the platform in the morning, and the bishop asked his wife to wait in a certain spot while he went and saw to the luggage. He made some mistake and could not find her, and, supposing she had gone on board, went to look for her, when the vessel started and he was carried off to Boulogne. His wife had to return ignominiously to the hotel, where she received great commiseration from the landlady. The lady was quite sure some accident had happened to her husband, and a messenger was sent to see, and when he returned the landlady came in with a very grave face, and said, "I am sorry to say, ma'am, there's been _no_ accident. But he didn't look like a gentleman to do such a thing." Of course he returned by the next steamer.

Bishop Selwyn of Lichfield was once asked how he came to give his theological college men such an ugly hood--black and yellow like a wasp. "Oh," he said, "I wanted to distinguish them from St. Bees' men."

It was said of Bishop Christopher Wordsworth of Lincoln that one half of him was in heaven and the other half in the seventeenth century.

When Dr. Moberly, Bishop of Salisbury, was old and infirm, he went with a friend to visit Old Sarum, and, as he was toiling up with the help of his friend, the latter remarked, "It's hard work getting up Old Sarum," to which the bishop replied, "It's harder work getting old Sarum up!"