d under
the windows. Then on the bare wall at the end I painted a life-sized
figure of our Lord, as a Shepherd leading His sheep, taken from
Overbeck's picture. This, together with a few other pictures of Christ,
warmed up the building very well. Then for the chancel I had a most
elaborate design.

First, there was a beautiful gilded pattern over the very lofty chancel
arch, which I managed to reach by means of a ladder. Professional people
need scaffolding and platforms, which I dispensed with, and accomplished
the whole space in less time than it would take to put up all their
needful erections. Inside the chancel I had twelve niches, with
tabernacle work above them, for the twelve apostles; and these were all
duly represented after a true mediaeval pattern.

The local newspaper made great fun of these paintings; and the reporter
would have it, that "these lively saints looked very conscious of being
put up there, and that they were constantly 'craning' their necks to
look at one another--as if they would inquire, 'I say, how do you like
being there?'" My favourite figure, St. John, upon which I bestowed
extra pains, the provoking man would have it, was St. Mary Magdalene,
leering at the apostle next to her, or at the one opposite--it did not
seem quite clear to him which; but her head was down on one side in a
bewitching attitude.

In the middle of the great undertaking I was called away for a few
weeks. During this time the reporter came again and again, but saw no
progress; he therefore put an advertisement into his paper to this
effect:--

"Stolen or strayed, a monkish priest, who paints apostles. He is not to
be found. Any person or persons who can give information concerning this
absent personage, will greatly oblige."

My preaching was not acceptable in this church, neither was my
connection with it; and my apostles were no better appreciated, for they
were soon after whitewashed over, and disappeared like a dream.
Sometimes, in damp weather, they were still to be seen "craning" their
necks as heretofore (much to the amusement of the chorister boys) though
with a kind of veil upon them. Doubtless, in a future generation, when
the plaster begins to blister, some antiquarian will discover this
"wonderful mediaeval fresco," and call the attention of the public to
it.

My ideas and dreams about catholic advancement were thus brought to a
calamitous end. This church to which I had come was one in high credit