institution which, if sincere, might be
dangerously powerful. The wisest and best of its bishops have
found their influence impaired, their position made equivocal,
by the element of unreality which adheres to them. A feeling
approaching to contempt has blended with the reverence attaching
to their position, and has prevented them from carrying the
weight in the councils of the nation which has been commanded by
men of no greater intrinsic eminence in other professions.'

"Yet another faulty relative!

"'Pretensions which many of them would have gladly abandoned have
connected their office with a smile. The nature of it has for
the most part filled the Sees with men of second-rate abilities.
The latest and most singular theory about them is that of the
modern English Neo-Catholic, who disregards his bishop's advice,
and despises his censures; but looks on him nevertheless as some
high-bred, worn-out animal, useless in himself, but infinitely
valuable for some mysterious purpose of spiritual propagation.'"

Brother Copas laid the open volume face-downward on his knee--a
trivial action in itself; but he had a conscience about books, and
would never have done this to a book he respected.

"Has it struck you, Mr. Simeon," he asked, "that Froude is so
diabolically effective just because in every fibre of him he is at
one with the thing he attacks?"

"He had been a convert of the Tractarians in his young days, I have
heard," said Mr. Simeon.

"Yes, it accounts for much in him. Yet I was not thinking of that--
which was an experience only, though significant. The man's whole
cast of mind is priestly despite himself. He has all the
priesthood's alleged tricks: you can never be sure that he is not
faking evidence or garbling a quotation. . . . My dear Mr. Simeon,
truly it behoves us to love our enemies, since in this world they are
often the nearest we have to us."

CHAPTER VI.

GAUDY DAY.

In the sunshine, on a lower step of the stone stairway that leads up
and through the shadow of a vaulted porch to the Hundred Men's Hall,
or refectory, Brother Biscoe stood with a hand-bell and rang to
dinner. Brother Biscoe was a charming old man to look upon; very
frail and venerable, with a somewhat weak face; and as senior
pensioner of the hospital he enjoyed the privilege of ringing to
dinner on Gaudy Days--twenty-seven strokes, distinct a