se a great deal of private correspondence arising out of this
newspaper paragraph, but only the other day I heard--I have not seen
it--that a cartoon has appeared in a London paper in which the Bishop of
Wakefield is represented with a drawn razor in his hand in full cry
after a Wakefield curate with a moustache. That is a very good example
of finding the truth about yourselves in the newspapers, for I have the
most astounding fact of all to tell you, and that is that I have never
said a single word about moustaches from first to last. I knew you would
forgive me making this little personal reference because it is not
personal to myself and to many of those in this tent."

A former Bishop of Wakefield, Dr Walsham How, related a good story. "The
vicar of an East London parish," said the bishop, "was one of the first
London clergymen to grow his beard. The then Bishop of London wished to
stop the practice, and, as he was going to confirm in that church, sent
his chaplain to the vicar to ask him to shave it off, saying he should
otherwise select another church for the Confirmation. The vicar replied
that he was quite willing to take his candidates to another church, and
would give out next Sunday the reason for the change. Of course the
bishop retracted."

We are told in the "Life of R.W. Dale" (London, 1898) that this famous
Birmingham preacher, about 1860, was clean shaven, but with "long black
hair that hung over his cheeks and ears like a mane." In a year or two
it was cut short. He then let his beard grow, and, after some
hesitation, his moustache. Many of the older people, we are told, were
scandalised, but remained silent; some wrote to the newspapers in
protest. The moustache was declared to invest ministers "with an air of
levity and worldliness." A letter of approval purported to come from
the shade of a Wesleyan minister, the Rev. H.D. Lowe, who, in 1828, had
his beard cut off by order of the Wesleyan Conference. It ran as
follows:--

"REVEREND AND BEARDED SIR,--It rejoiced my shade to see
you not only addressing Methodists, but sitting among many of the
identical men who required that cruel sacrifice of me, and that
unrebuked when you even spoke of dreaming of belonging to the
'Legal Hundred,' bearded though you are."

Professor Hodgson used to tell a good story of a shaky village knight of
the razor who gashed the minister's cheek. "John, John!" cried the
reverend sufferer, "it's a