a local habitation and a name;" he is
identified with the people among whom he lives. There was much to do.
The state of the Catholic poor in his own district was heartrending. He
never could have conceived such misery, and that too under the shadow
of the Abbey. The few schools which existed were wretched, and his first
attention must be given to this capital deficiency. He trusted much to
female aid. He meant to invite the great Catholic ladies to unite with
him in a common labour of love. In this great centre of civilisation,
and wealth, and power, there was need of the spirit of a St. Ursula.

No one seemed more pleased by the return of Archbishop Penruddock than
Lord Montfort. He appeared to be so deeply interested in his Grace's
mission, sought his society so often, treated him with such profound
respect, almost ceremony, asked so many questions about what was
happening at Rome, and what was going to be done here--that Nigel might
have been pardoned if he did not despair of ultimately inducing Lord
Montfort to return to the faith of his illustrious ancestors. And yet,
all this time, Lord Montfort was only amusing himself; a new character
was to him a new toy, and when he could not find one, he would dip into
the "Memoirs of St. Simon."

Instead of avoiding society, as was his wont in the old days, the
Archbishop sought it. And there was nothing exclusive in his social
habits; all classes and all creeds, all conditions and orders of men,
were alike interesting to him; they were part of the mighty community,
with all whose pursuits, and passions, and interests, and occupations
he seemed to sympathise, but respecting which he had only one object--to
bring them back once more to that imperial fold from which, in an hour
of darkness and distraction, they had miserably wandered. The conversion
of England was deeply engraven on the heart of Penruddock; it was his
constant purpose, and his daily and nightly prayer.

So the Archbishop was seen everywhere, even at fashionable assemblies.
He was a frequent guest at banquets which he never tasted, for he was
a smiling ascetic, and though he seemed to be preaching or celebrating
high mass in every part of the metropolis, organising schools,
establishing convents, and building cathedrals, he could find time to
move philanthropic resolutions at middle-class meetings, attend learned
associations, and even occasionally send a paper to the Royal Society.

The person who fell mos