gamesters, maids and mothers, courtiers, kings, and husbandmen. But what I have already told is the least of what I suffer. Now indeed I am much less troubled with these matters; and on that account I should render you the greatest thanks, if this convenience did not bring a greater inconvenience with it. There is now more ease, but less honour and less profit. Formerly I was addressed as the Queen of Heaven, the Lady of the World: now I scarcely hear from a few a single 'Ave Maria.' Formerly I was clothed with jewels and gold, I abounded in presents, my offerings were of gauds and gems: now I am scarcely covered with half a petticoat, and that eaten by the mice. My yearly revenue is barely sufficient to keep a wretched attendant to light me a tallow candle or taper. And even this might be borne, if worse was not threatened. You go so far, they say, as to drive out of the churches whatever belongs to the saints. Again and again take care what you do! There is not one of the other saints who cannot revenge himself. Peter, if turned out of the church,

can in turn lock the doors of heaven against you. Paul carries a sword. (12) Bartholomew is armed with a knife. William under his monk's gown is entirely armed, and not without a heavy spear. (13) And how can you encounter George the knight on horseback, formidable both with his spear and his sword? Nor is Anthony defenceless; he has his sacred fire. (14) And the rest have either their weapons, or their calamities, which they can inflict on whom they will. But me, although unarmed, you cannot cast forth, unless at the same time you cast out my Son, whom I bear in my arms. From him I will not allow myself to be torn away; either you turn him out together with me, or you must retain both, unless you would have the church without Christ.

"So much I wished you to understand: and you must consider what answer to make me; for the matter is

much at very

my

heart. From my stone

house, on the kalends of August, in the year of my

Son's passion 1524, I the Virgin have signed this with my stone hand."

Me. A very threatening and formidable epistle ! Glaucoplutus, I think, must take care.

Og. If he is wise.

Me. Why has not that excellent James written on the same subject?

Og. I know not; unless it is that he is further off, and in these times all letters are intercepted.

Me. But what fate carried you back into England?

Og. A wonderfully favourable wind invited me thither, and I was almost pledged to the sea-side Virgin, that I would revisit her after two years.

Me. What to seek of her?

Og. Nothing new: only those usual petitions, the health of my family, the increase of my estate, a long and happy life in this world, and eternal happiness in the next.

Me. Could not our own Virgin Mother bestow the same? She has at Antwerp a far more magnificent church than that at Walsingham.

Og. I do not deny she might; but in various places she grants various things, whether because

she so thinks proper, or, as she is kind, because in this she accommodates herself to our desires.

Me. I have often heard about James; but, I pr'y-thee, describe to me the domain of this sea-side saint.

Og. I will gratify you as briefly as I can. It is the most celebrated place throughout all England, nor could you easily find in that island the man who ventures to reckon on prosperity, unless he yearly salute her with some small offering according to his ability.

Me. Where dwells she?

Og. At the extreme coast of England on the north-west, (15) at about three miles' distance from the sea. It is a town maintained by scarcely anything else but the number of its visitors. (16) It is a college of canons, but of those which the Church of Rome terms regular, a middle kind between the monks and those termed secular canons.

Me. You describe amphibious animals, such as the beaver.

Og. Yes, and the crocodile. But, without fur

ther cavil, I will give you some notion of them in three words. In things disallowed they are canons, in things allowed they are monks.

Me. You still speak to me in riddles.

Og. But you shall have a mathematical demonstration. If the Roman pontiff were to launch his thunderbolts against all monks, then they would be canons, and not monks; but, if he were to allow all monks to take wives, then they would be monks.

Me. Oh what new privileges! I wish they would take mine!

Og. But to proceed. This college has scarcely any other resources than from the bounty of the Virgin. (17) For, though the larger offerings are preserved, all that is in money, or of inferior value, falls to the sustenance of the flock, and of their head, whom they call the Prior.

Me. Are they of good reputation?

Og. They are highly spoken of; richer in piety than in revenue. The church is graceful and elegant; but the Virgin does not occupy it; she cedes it, out of deference, to her Son. She has