yearning for peace and pardon, in its agony and despair will vent itself
in broken sentences, and will turn away from all ceremony--from even the
sublime liturgy of the Church of England, as poor, and cold, and vain,
inadequate to the expression of its hopes and fears. But why those who
go to church as a form find fault with the people of St. Paul's because
their form is a little more attractive than their own, I confess I cannot
understand.

But I have forgotten the Hon. and Rev. R. Liddell, M.A., a man of small
mental calibre, who has done the next best thing to achieving greatness,
and has achieved notoriety. In a letter he wrote to the late Bishop of
London (in which he wickedly told his lordship if he had 'any _distinct_
wish upon the subject, he is ready to comply with it,' as if Charles
James ever had any distinct wish with reference to Church matters), he
styles himself a loyal son of the Church. At any rate, he is a brother
of Lord Ravensworth, and perhaps that is almost as good. His public
career is now of about twenty years' standing. Originally, he was curate
of Barking, Essex; thence he removed to Hartlepool; and when it was found
desirable to send Mr. Bennett to Frome (not Rome), Mr. Liddell was
selected to fill his vacant place. It is questionable whether any
successor could have been appointed more agreeable to Mr. Bennett. Mr.
Liddell has certainly followed most religiously in the steps of his
predecessor. St. Barnabas is what it was pretty nearly in Mr. Bennett's
time. In St. Paul's a little more discretion is shown, and if you are
struck with any difference in the manner of _performing_ divine service
at St. Paul's to that used in other places, you draw a comparison in
favour of the former. The congregation is exceedingly wealthy and
aristocratic. You are struck as much with its air of high life as with
its High Church appearance, and having thus a double charm, I need not
add that St. Paul's is crowded in every part. If success be a true test,
Mr. Liddell is most indisputably in the right.

As a preacher, Mr. Liddell does not shine. Pale, with light hair and
complexion--rich, for the place is worth 1500 pounds a-year at the
least--he would all through life have remained an obscure, gentlemanly
man, had he not fortunately fallen in with the Puseyite tendencies of a
large and influential section in the English Church. His voice is clear
but not full; and, as one of his bitterest opponent