superscription of that pure golden humanity, to which each needless tear of a child was a blood-drop. With the ecclesiastical kingdom to which he gave his allegiance I have no concern here. Before all things he was a grandly human being. To him the cause and service of the little and weak was what to too many ecclesiastics is the cause and service of the great and the strong. Whatever was his own desire in the matter, the power of his life served, not Romanism, but religion. It was in spite of his alien Church, alien in name and in habits of thought to English life, that he won Englishman's love. They travelled after him, led by his personality, not by his creed. The English are first political, then religious; and all their political traditions, as well as all the institutions their politics have created, place a bar against Romanism, which no personality, however great, can remove. His influence was like that gracious influence of a noble woman which all men feel without becoming women, or even adopting their costume. It was created and it was limited by what in him was common to our best humanity, and which every human being by virtue of humanity must feel. The Church to which he belonged gave him titles; but these, though extending the range and opportunities of the fascination of his influence, did not constitute the source of it. Neither the mitre nor the crown, but the common heart of mankind transfigured, marks the true master of men. The pope may create twenty cardinals; he cannot create one Manning, for grand titles do not make grand men. A bishop's throne may have a bishop's empire, but only a bishop's. Manhood alone can have empire over men. Though most of what he said to me was said to make my hands stronger to do the special work I had to do, and which, had he had time, his own hands would have gladly done, now and again conversation slipped into more general topics, when, so utterly simple was he and so open, that what some would call the trifles of his personal life would come up in his conversation, which all unconsciously betrayed how full of happy and prosperous virtue he was. On one occasion he told me this story in slow periods, in which every word was a reality: "I was going down that street," pointing out of the window to a double row of mansions that were being built," and I met a little boy going along his happy way, with poor dress, but a lovely, thoughtful, pale, open face, and I stopped him for the pleasure of speaking to him. Well, my little man, how are you, and where are you going with that little bundle in your hand?' He told me there'-pointing to one of the houses being built, to his father.' 'What is your father?' I asked. 'A carpenter, sir,' he replied." Then the cardinal added slowly, "I was awed and startled! I had met a carpenter's son! My Lord was once a little servant like that boy. Oh, Mr. Waugh," he exclaimed, almost in tears, "what depths of love were in Christ!" He then in the simplest way disclosed that he had at once returned home and sent all that he had then to give to some institution for the children of the poor "I feel at times," he said, "ashamed to own anything." I saw in that moment how intense upon him was the power of the life of our Lord. Never was a man less of a bigot. He had a heart for all reality. We differed toto cœlo in our ideas of the Church. As the name is generally understood, I had no Church. The source of my religion began and ended with the Nazarene. I had no Church history, no Church creeds, save the history once enacted in Galilee and Judea and the creed of the Gospels. The four lives of the Nazarene by four of his friends were my library of faith. My pope, my cardinals were, therefore, Christ and his twelve. My apostolical succession was to such men as had by direct contact with our Lord caught some of his holy fire. On one occasion when I had respectfully put my position to him he said: "Well, you are making me your confessor, and I give you absolution, for you need it; you are not following Christ as much as you think you are. Follow him enough and you will find that out." When walking in the New Forest some years ago I came up, here and there upon the road, with little knots of country people in their Sunday best wending their way to a village church. They were going, I found, to the funeral of "the housekeeper at the Hall." I turned into the church, attended the service, and followed to the grave. I did not know the woman, but I found that she had been greatly loved and was bitterly mourned by the whole country-side, which had ceased labor and gathered to weep at her grave. Humanity mourned when she died. I found myself joining in its tears. When the lingering company had gone away, I said to the gravedigger: "She was much beloved, it seems." "Ah, sir!" he sobbed with difficulty, his aged, wrinkled face crumpling up as fresh tears started, breaking his sentence. Then taking his shovel, he continued, as he began to shovel back the earth: "This is the hardest job I've had for many a day.” Those Hebrew "women from Galilee and those English laborers from the Forest had the same kind of reason for their tears at the tomb. Humanity wept at both. And it was humanity that wept at the tomb of the cardinal. Our common race was bereaved. The mystic power of man "renewed after the image of Christ" is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. Remembering the great woe of this great city and of the whole land at his grave it is well to reflect that though place and power play their part in this complex life of ours, empire belongs only to Christ and to the Christ-like soul, be its circle great or small. It is not an Atlantic alone that possesses the properties of the sea; each wave and ripple breaking around the children's feet paddling upon its shore possesses the same. Its very spray is salt. Nor is it greatness of name and vastness of sphere that constitute the power of a Christian. His power is that his nature is impregnated with the race-loving spirit of Christ. The soul may be as unconscious of its properties as the sea is of its properties, but it has them all the same; and by whatsoever Church-name that soul is known: Greek, Roman, or Anglican, be it a diocesan dignitary, or a "housekeeper at the Hall" among farms and laborers, the Christliness of its disposition and behavior will be the measure in which men will find in it "saving health." late Dr. Hatch, I have had the pleasure of making known to him; for he seemed desirous of meeting every one worth knowing. He never tried to convert me; indeed we did not go much into ecclesiastical argument; recognizing our different points of view, we were ready to discuss the secondary questions on which differences are not vital. I remember that early in our acquaintance the cardinal, who had undertaken to write an article for this review on the question of the admission of Mr. Bradlaugh to the House of Commons, sent to ask me to go down and talk to him about it. I found him with the manuscript just finished, the sheets scarcely dry. He read over the whole to me, challenging me to concur with, or dissent from, each proposition, and breaking into a gentle smile when as was generally the case I intimated strong dissent. I thought the article very good as a statement of opinion, but untenable as an argument. I once congratulated him on his long life, as giving time for his motives and career to display themselves in their true light. He assented, referring very feelingly to the unpopularity and misconception he had had to go through; how he had been under a cloud for twenty or thirty years, but had in the end lived through it. I have never met with any one who seemed to me a more thorough bishop; not merely carrying with sedulous attention and grave responsibility, though with a masterful sense of certainty and ease, the cares of his own diocese and Church, Once I was warned by a well-known and to his own feeling at least of the statesman against putting ecclesiastics on religion of his country, but always ready my society's committee. I said: "But to undertake the guidance of any individwe have already one on it, Cardinal Manual soul in need, caring for the one, and ning." His reply was: "Oh, Manning, he is not an ecclesiastic; he belongs to us all!" That the supremest humanity is king among men, this is the lesson of the great life which the nation mourns, and which it will see no more. BENJAMIN WAUGH. I CANNOT refrain from adding to the foregoing papers a few recollections of my Own. For some years past I have, like many others, been admitted to Cardinal Manning's friendship, and found ready access to him. Many an hour's conversation I have had with him—often on a Sunday evening, when he seemed to be at leisure for general and discursive talk. Several friends, notably Dr. Paton and the lavish of thought and time in each case - a confessor as well as an overseer. He meditated deeply on the state of Christianity in England - of course with a bias; thought highly, on the whole, of the aristocracy, spoke often in words of solemn warning of the perils of our pursuit of money, but recognized the deep seated belief in God of the bulk of the people. There was much Catholic truth, he would say, among the Methodists, and he held that the Salvation Army, sadly defective as it was, was nevertheless seriously preaching the fear of God. I was abroad during the early part of the Dock strike. On returning, I went to see the cardinal, who told me what he had been doing. I suggested that the Bishop of London, having put his hand to the plough, had looked back. "Yes," he said, with a sort of wicked smile, "and I am not sure whether any other of my episcopal brethren were in England at the time." to leave. Rising from his chair, he From Macmillan's Magazine. THE VILLAGE LEGACY. "THE case of Mussumât* Nuttia being without heirs," droned the court-inspector. "Bring her in.” "She is already in the Presence. If the Protector of the Poor will rise somewhat at the other side of the table, Huzoor! beside the yellow-trousered legs of the guardian of peace that is Mussumât Nuttia." Some years ago Dr. Fairbairn, of Mansfield College, wrote some articles criticising the theological position of Cardinal Newman. Cardinal Manning, reading these, spoke to me of his great interest in them, and expressed a wish to meet Dr. Fairbairn. Accordingly, he came to my house one afternoon to meet Dr. Fairbairn and my friend Dr. Paton. Mr. Lilly was also present, and some members of my family. After tea the conversation naturally turned on the Roman Catholic question, and in the most friendly and generous spirit, as might be expected from the temper of the men, a general argument of the deepest interest was held, Dr. Fairbairn propounding questions to bring out the points, the cardinal replying, and Dr. Paton interposing remarks and questions now and then. The cardinal did not bind himself to Cardinal Newman's positions, and indeed expressly disclaimed to have so studied his books as to know his views; but he treated the belief in God as a necessity of his existence, and deduced from it the belief in Christianity — i.e., A child some three years of age, with a the Catholic Church. His argument was, string of big blue beads round her neck, to the minds of some present, somewhat a child who had evidently had a very out of date, founded rather on the lines current in the Tractarian times than on those which are adjusted to modern history and philosophy. But he more than frankly admitted to saving grace Christians outside the Roman Catholic Church, basing his view on the doctrine of extraordinary grace, the result of the grace of the Church, and shining out beyond her pale. The whole conversation was strenuous; Drs. Fairbairn and Paton, both coming, as they explained, of the blood of the Covenanters, were firm, though fraternal, themselves holding High Church doctrine, though of a different order. I remember especially one passage. The cardinal was asked to define the specific Roman Catholic theory of the Church, and, settling himself to the task, spoke for two or three minutes. At the close of his sentences we all three, with one voice, accepted his definition absolutely. This may show either the underlying similarity of Christian creeds or the difficulties of definition; but it was very striking. There was no difference as to the ideas of the Church and Catholicity only as to the realities which corresponded to them. The conversation was at last broken off by the cardinal having 4002 LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXVIII. satisfying meal, and who was even now preserving its contour by half a yard of sugarcane, stared gravely back at the assistant magistrate's grave face. She has no heirs of any kind?" he asked. "None, Huzoor! Her mother was of the Harni tribe, working harvests in Bhâmaniwallah-khurd. There the misfortune of being eaten by a snake came upon her by the grace of God. Mussumât Nuttia therefore remains "Oh, Guardian of the Poor!" said two voices in unison, as two tall, bearded figures swathed in whitish-brown draperies pressed a step forward with outstretched, petitioning hands. They had been awaiting this crisis all day long, with that mix. ture of tenacity and indifference which is seen on most faces in an Indian court. "Give her in charge of the headmen of the village; they are responsible." "Shelter of the world! 'tis falsely represented. The woman was a vagrant, a loose walker, a "Is the order written? Then bring the next case." • A title of courtesy equivalent to our mistress. As she outgrew childhood's vestment of curves and dimples, some one gave her an old rag of a petticoat. Perhaps the acquisition of clothes followed, as in ancient days, a fall from grace; certain it was that Nuttia in a garment was a far One flourish of a pen, and Mussumât she felt herself in a condition to seek Nuttia became a village legacy; the only some warm, sunny corner, and curl round immediate result being that having sucked to sleep. She lived, for the most part, one end of her sugarcane dry, she began with the yelping, slouching, village dogs, methodically on the other. Half an hour following them, as the nights grew chill, afterwards, mounted on a white pony, with to the smouldering brick-kilns, where she pink eyes and nose and a dyed pink tail to fed the little dust-colored puppies with match, she was on her way back to the anything above, or beneath, her own apcluster of reed huts dignified by the name petite. of Bhâmaniwallah-khurd, or Little Bhâmaniwallah. Big Bhâmani wallah lay a full mile to the northward, secured against midsummer floods by the high bank which stretched like a mud wall right across the Punjab plain, from the skirts of the hills to the great meeting of the five waters at Mit-less estimable member of society than tankote. But Little Bhâmaniwallah lay in the lap of the river, and so Bahâdur, and Boota, and Jodha, and all the grave, bigbearded dogas who fed their herds of cattle on the low ground and speculated in the cultivation of sand-banks, lived with their loins girded ready to shift house with the shifting of the river. That was why the huts were made of reeds; that was why the women of the village clanked about in solid silver jewellery, thus turning their persons into a secure savings bank. Mussumât Jewun, Bahâdur, the headman's wife, wore bracelets like manacles, and a perfect yoke of a necklet, as she patted out the dough cakes and expostulated shrilly at the introduction of a new mouth into the family, when Nuttia, fast asleep, was lifted from the pony and put down in the warm sand by the door. "She belongs to the village," replied the elders, wagging their beards. "God knows what my lords desire with the Harni brat, but if they ask for her, she must be forthcoming; ay! and fat. They like people to grow fat, even in their jailkhanas." So Nuttia grew fat; she would have grown fat even had the fear of my lords not been before the simple villagers' eyes, for despite her tender years she was eminently fitted to take care of herself. She had an instinct as to the houses where good things were being prepared, and her chubby little hand imperiously stretched out for a portion was seldom sent away empty. Indeed, to tell the sober truth, Nuttia was not to be gainsaid as to her own hunger. "My stomach is bigger than that, grandmother!" she would say confidently, if the alms appeared to her inadequate, and neither cuffs nor neglect altered her conviction. She never cried, and the little fat hand silently demanding more, came back again and again after every rebuff till Nuttia without one. To begin with, it afforded opportunity for the display of many mortal sins. Vainglory in her own appearance, deceit in attempting to palm the solitary prize off on the world as a various and complete wardrobe, and dishonesty flagrant and unabashed; for once provided with a convenient receptacle for acquired trifles Nuttia took to stealing as naturally as a puppy steals bones. Then, once having recognized the pleasures of possession, she fought furiously against any infringement of her rights. A boy twice her size went yelling home to his parents on her first resort to brute force consequent on the discovery of a potsherd tied to her favorite puppy's tail. This victory proved unfortunate for the peace of the village, the head men awoke to the necessity for training up their Legacy in the paths of virtue. So persistent pummelling was resorted to with the happiest effect. Nuttia stole and fought no more; she retired with dignity from a society which failed to appreciate her, and took to the wilderness instead. At earliest dawn, after her begging round was over, she would wander out from the thorn enclosures to the world; a kaleidoscope world where fields ripened golden crops one year, and the next brought the red brown river wrinkling and dimpling in swift current; where big, brand-new continents rose up before eager eyes, and clothed themselves in green herbs and creeping things innumerable, going no further, however, in the scale of creation, except when the pelicans hunched themselves together to doze away digestion, or a snub-nosed alligator took a slimy snooze on the extreme edge. If you wished to watch the birds, or the palm-squirrels, or the jerboa rats, you had to face northwards and skirt the high bank. So much of Dame Nature's ways, and a vast deal more, Mussumât Nuttia learnt ere the set ting sun and hunger drove her back to the brick-kilns, and the never-failing meal of scraps-never-failing, because the lords of the universe liked people to be fat, and the head-men were responsible for their Legacy's condition. she would be ever so much better behaved in future. Nuttia eyed them suspiciously, but ate her sweetmeats. This incident did not increase her confidence in humanity; on the other hand, the attitude of the brute She might have had a heart instinct with greed of capture and sudden death, instead of that dim desire of companionship, for all the notice taken by the birds, and the squirrels, and the rats, of her outstretched handful of crumbs. She would sit for long hours, silent as a little bronze image set in the sunshiny sand; then in a rage, she would fling the crumbs at the timid creatures, and go home to the dogs and the buffaloes. They at least were not afraid of her; but then they were afraid of nobody, and Nuttia wanted something of her very own. So when an assistant magistrate-in-creation was a sore disappointment to her. definite because of the constant changes which apparently form part of Western policy-included the Bhâmaniwallahs in his winter tour of inspection, a punchaiyut, or Council of Five, decided that it was the duty of the village to provide Nuttia with a veil, in case she should be haled to the Presence; and two yards of Manchester muslin were purchased from the reserve funds of the village, and handed over to the child with many wise saws on the general advisability of decency. Nuttia's delight for the first five minutes was exhilarating, and sent the head-men back to other duties with a glow of self-satisfaction on their solemn faces. Then she folded | the veil up quite square, sat down on it, and meditated on the various uses to which it could be put. The result may be told briefly. Two days afterwards the assistant magistrate, being a keen sportsman, was crawling on his stomach to a certain long, low pool much frequented by teal and mallard. In the rear, gleaming white through the caper bushes, showed the usual cloud of witnesses filled with patient amazement at this unnecessary display of energy; yet for all that counting shrewdly on the good temper likely to result from good sport. So much so, that the sudden uprising into bad language of the Huzoor sent them forward prodigal of apology; but the sight that met their eyes dried up the fountain of excuse. Nuttia, stark naked, stood knee-deep in the very centre of the pool, catching small fry with a bag-net ingeniously constructed out of the Manchester veil. The punchaiyut sat again to agree that a child who could not only destroy the sport of the Guardian of the Poor, but could also drag the village honor through the mud, despite munificent inducements towards decency, must be possessed of a devil. So Nuttia was solemnly censed with red pepper and tumeric, until her yells and struggles were deemed sufficient to denote a casting out of the evil spirit. It is not in the slow-brained, calm-hearted peasant of India to be unkind to children, and so, when the function was over, Mussumât Jewun and the other deep-chested, shrill-voiced women comforted the victim with sweetmeats and the assurance that One day she found it. It was only an old bed-leg, but to the eye of faith an incarnation. For the leg of an Indian bed is not unlike a huge ninepin, and even a Western imagination can detect the embryo likeness between a ninepin and the human form divine. Man has a head, so has a ninepin; and if humanity is to wear petticoats one solid leg is quite as good as two; nay, better, since it stands more firmly. Arms were of course wanting, but the holes ready cut in the oval centre for the insertion of the bed-frame formed admirable sockets for two straight pieces of bamboo. At this stage Nuttia's treasure presented the appearance of a sign-post; but the passion of creation was on the child, and a few hours afterwards something comically, yet pitifully, like the Legacy herself stared back at her from that humble studio among the dirt heaps, -a shag of goat's hair glued on with prickly pear-juice, two lovely black eyes drawn with Mussumât Jewun's khol pencil, a few blue beads, a scanty petticoat and veil filched from the child's own garments. Nuttia, inspired by the recollection of a tinsel-decorated bride in Big Bhâmaniwallah, called her creature Sirdar Begum on the spot. Then she hid her away in a tussock of tiger-grass beyond the thorn enclosures, and strove to go her evening rounds as though nothing had happened. Yet it was as if an angel from heaven had stepped down to take her by the hand. Henceforward she was never to be alone. All through the silent, sunny days, as she watched the big black buffaloes grazing on the muddy flats for Nuttia was advanced to the dignity of a herd-girl by this time -Sirdar Begum was with her as guide, |