And, though he holy was, and virtuous too,
Tow'rds sinful men no rancorous thoughts he knew,
Nor dangerous, nor haughty, was his speech,
And kindly and discreetly would he teach.

By patient fairness had he ever striven,
And good example, to lead men to heaven;
But if he found his hearers obstinate,
Whether they were of high or low estate,
He could reprove them well and faithfully—
I trow there was no better priest than he.
He sought not empty pomp nor reverence,
But kept a conscience void of all offence,
And walking in his Master's footsteps, sought
To shew what Christ, and his apostles taught.

xi.

xlv.

L..

A few points of resemblance between Wiclif's character and that of the poor parson here delineated, may not prove uninteresting.

Chaucer says of his parson,

"Full loth were him to cursen for his tithes."-(line 10.)

Wiclif in his tract, "How the office of curates is ordained of God," denounces the practice of "cruelly cursing for tithes, and evil customs ;" and again blames those who "practice strife and plea, and gather envy and hate from laymen for tythes." The parson is described as a man—

"That Christés gospel trewély wold preche."-(line 5)

Wiclif says, evidently making his own practice the rule, "Would that the priests taughte trewely the gospel of God's commands to the people."

Chaucer's Parson was ever ready,

"In sekeness and in mischief to visite

"The farrest in his parish, moche and lite."-lines 17, 18.

And Wiclif lays it down as a duty "to visit those who are sick, or who are in trouble, especially those whom God hath made needy by age, or by other sickness, as the feeble, the blind, and the lame, who are in poverty."

The poor parson was neither pluralist, nor non-resident, seeking for preferment in London, or elsewhere, (lines 31-35,) and Wiclif boldly denounces those who "make themselves busy night and day to get worldly advancement, and their own worship and

dignity in this world, by pleading and striving therefore"-who "haunt lords' courts, and are occupied in worldly offices, and do not take care of their parishes, although they take more worldly goods for them than Christ and his apostles."

It may be farther remarked, that during the progress of the pilgrims towards Canterbury, the good parson reproves the host for swearing, and is instantly called a Loller, or Lollard, in return, and charged with sowing dissension among the party! This incident clearly proves that if Chaucer were not actually sketching the character of Wiclif, he was at all events describing one of the same school-the Lollards, with Wiclif at their head, having been distinguished by their decided opposition to profane swearing, and the general purity of their conversation.

With the poor parson another admirable character is associated -the Plowman, or small farmer. Though of course not an ecclesiastic, he stands in so intimate a connection to the parson, not only as his brother, but as a layman, like-minded with his clerical kinsman, that I must remark for a few moments on the interesting simplicity of his character. He may be considered as the pattern-card of the good clergyman, exhibiting those virtues in private life, which his brother so indefatigably inculcates by his public preaching and example. Simple, kind-hearted, industrious, a peace-maker, and true Christian in creed and practice, he constitutes a fine illustration of the beauty of that holiness, which, whilst it confers true glory to the rich, is no less admirable in its influence on the poor. Though called a "ploughman" in the poem, he appears to have belonged to the smaller class of tenant-farmers-a primitive race, related rather to the school of Adam, than to that of Liebig; and living as we should now say, literally from hand to mouth. A curious inventory is extant of the effects of one Reginald Labbe, an agriculturist of this class, about a century earlier than Chaucer's Plowman. It describes his entire estate and effects as being worth xxxiii s. viij d. at the time of his decease, not one farthing of which was in ready money. His worldly goods consisted of a cow and calf, two sheep, three lambs, three hens, a few bushels of grain, a very scanty wardrobe and bedding; a frying-pan, a trivet, and a halfpenny worth of salt. Amongst these articles, a tabard and tunic, valued together at xii pence are particularly mentioned: a

fact which derives some interest from the circumstance of our plowman being habited in a tabard; a kind of jacket or sleeveless coat, supposed by some to have belonged to those only who bore arms, as it was usually ornamented with such insignia. As Chaucer's character of the Plowman is short, I shall give it in the original, as well as in more modern phrase.

With him there was a Plowman, was his brother

That had ylaid of dong ful many 'a fother

A trewé swinker, and a good, was he,
Living in pees and parfite charitē,

God loved he besté with all his herte
At allé timés, were it gain or smerte;
And than his neighébour, right as himselve,
He woldé thresh, and therto dike and delve
For Christés sake, for any pouré wight,
Withouten hire, if it lay in his might,
His tithes paiéd he ful fayre and wel,
Both of his propre swinke, and his cattél.
In a tabard he rode, upon a mare.

Thus modernized

With him, his brother, a small farmer, rode,
Who of manure had spread full many a load,
A thorough workman, and a good was he,
Living in peace and perfect charity.

God loved he first and best, with all his heart
At all times, whether for his gain or smart.

And then his neighbour, as himself, esteemed,
Nor labor done for him, laborious deemed;

But trenched, and banked, and threshed, if in his might,
For Jesu's sake, for any needy wight.

Nor grudged his tithes, but paid the whole when due,
Both on his farming-stock and produce too.

He, in a tabard, rode upon a mare.

In order fully to appreciate the beauty of those two characters, it should be borne in mind that Chaucer wrote in an age remarkable for its moral darkness, when the church was immersed in the grossest superstition, and the people were so utterly ignorant as to be entirely at the mercy of an intolerant and rapacious priesthood. Yet even in such times as these, God has always left a remnant; and it is delightful and heart-cheering to find

that in the very depth of the dark ages, his people possessed the same family-features as now distinguish them, holding it as the first and great commandment, to love God with all the heart, and then to cherish that charity towards all men which is the bond of perfectness.

It may be well, perhaps, to remark, in conclusion, that from these dark ages, our Puseyites, and Tractarians, and Ecclesiologists draw all that "new light" by which they are endeavoring to lead us back to the beggarly elements of symbolism; and teach us that the true preachers of the gospel, are stone walls deep chancels, carved rood-screens, crotchets, corbels, crosses, and jewelled plate! Yours, &c.,

BOOKWORM.

THE COST OF KILLING.

In this country, Bills have passed for the construction of no less than 532 railways; of which 247 are main lines, and 285, extensions and branches. Parliament has sanctioned for this, a capital of £153,457,837, and up to the latest period, the annual receipts for passengers were £3 976,341; and for goods, £2,333,373; making £6,309,714. More than six millions paid for improved locomotion-far more than the whole revenues of many second-rate states; or the revenues of England at a period not very remote! In 1845, 2118 miles of railway were opened. In 1844, the number of passengers who travelled by railways, reckoning the separate journeys of each, was 30,363,052; and in the last six months of 1945, the half of the year in which there is the least activity, the number of travellers was 16,720,550. These are the works of Peace.

Steam navigation again in its magnificent development, is another child of peace. It carries out over the ocean, the triumphs of the railway on the land. We reach the uttermost ends of the earth with celerity and certainty. We can calculate the day, almost the hour, which will bring us news from our oriental or occidental dominions; and the time is not remote, when these great discoveries will receive a yet more extensive application. These, too, are victories of Peace.

The expenses of the War which closed the last century and

opened the present, were about £1,200,000,000, or nearly eight times the cost of these railways! But the cost of war is not to be calculated by money-it is not a question of finance alone. Its expenditure is the expenditure of crime as well as gold. What statistics of police offices-of sessions-of assizes—of lock-up houses and prisons, would record a greater list of offences, than those connected with the march of armies—with the sacking of towns-with the burning of habitations—with the field of battle? What are the money-costs of war, frightful though they be, compared with the cost of misery in all its forms which war brings in its train? What severings of families-what sacrifices of the gay and young-what orphanhood and widowhood-what children mourning for fathers—what fathers lamenting their perished sons! The waste of war-the waste of gold by war-seem scarcely worth a thought when you turn to the waste of life,-to the mortal victims offered at its shrine. Of what is that multitude composed? Of men in all the buoyancy of strength and action, in the hey-day of existence, in the energy of youth and manhood, swept away-silenced-sacrificed—not in that “fitting frame serene" which smooths the departure of the good; not in preparation, or in prayer, but in passion and in hatred, in desolation and destruction; amidst the outpouring of blood, and the infinite forms of misery; dying, but not in that peace in which a Christian should die.—Dr. Bowring's Lecture on Peace.

LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP.

When I see the fisher bait his hook, I think on Satan's subtle malice, who sugars over his poisoned hooks with seeming pleasures. Thus Eve's apple was candied with Divine knowledge"Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil." When I see the fish fast hanged, I think upon the covetous worldling who leaps at the profit, without considering the danger. Thus Achan takes the gold and the garment, and never considers that his life must answer it. If Satan be such a fisher of men, it is good to look before we leap. Honey may be eaten, so that we take heed of the sting: I will honestly enjoy my delights, but not buy them with danger. WARWICK.