stormy gulf between us; and from Canterbury to Rome a
pilgrim could pass, and not drown beyond Dover. Of the beautiful parts
of the great Mother Church I believe among us many people have no idea;
we think of lazy friars, of pining cloistered virgins, of ignorant
peasants worshipping wood and stones, bought and sold indulgences,
absolutions, and the like commonplaces of Protestant satire. Lo! yonder
inscription, which blazes round the dome of the temple, so great and
glorious it looks like heaven almost, and as if the words were written
in stars, it proclaims to all the world, this is that Peter, and on this
rock the Church shall be built, against which Hell shall not prevail.
Under the bronze canopy his throne is lit with lights that have been
burning before it for ages. Round this stupendous chamber are ranged
the grandees of his court. Faith seems to be realised in their marble
figures. Some of them were alive but yesterday; others, to be as blessed
as they, walk the world even now doubtless; and the commissioners
of heaven, here holding their court a hundred years hence, shall
authoritatively announce their beatification. The signs of their power
shall not be wanting. They heal the sick, open the eyes of the blind,
cause the lame to walk to-day as they did eighteen centuries ago. Are
there not crowds ready to bear witness to their wonders? Isn't there
a tribunal appointed to try their claims; advocates to plead for and
against; prelates and clergy and multitudes of faithful to back and
believe them? Thus you shall kiss the hand of a priest to-day, who has
given his to a friar whose bones are already beginning to work miracles,
who has been the disciple of another whom the Church has just proclaimed
a saint,--hand in hand they hold by one another till the line is lost
up in heaven. Come, friend, let us acknowledge this, and go and kiss the
toe of St. Peter. Alas! there's the Channel always between us; and we no
more believe in the miracles of St. Thomas of Canterbury, than that the
bones of His Grace John Bird, who sits in St. Thomas's chair presently,
will work wondrous cures in the year 2000: that his statue will speak,
or his portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence will wink.

"So, you see, at those grand ceremonies which the Roman Church exhibits
at Christmas, I looked on as a Protestant. Holy Father on his throne or
in his palanquin, cardinals with their tails and their train-bearers,
mitred bishops and abbots, regiment