he had lost his lady, he told them he feared they did not find things in so good order as they used to be in the time of poor Mary; and looking extremely sorrowful, added, with a deep sigh, "She was, indeed, mare pacificum." A curate, who pretty well knew what she had been, called out: " Aye, my Lord, but she was mare mortuum first." Sir William gave him a living of £500 per annum within two months afterwards.

The following clever reminder deserved to be rewarded. A curate named Joseph was by permission of Swift allowed to preach before Butler, Duke of Ormond, who it seems had promised him preferment, but had failed to fulfil his promise. He chose for his text the significant passage, "Yet did not the chief Butler remember Joseph, but forgot him."

While on the subject of the choice of texts we are reminded of the following story. When Mr. Whitbread and Howard the philanthropist were candidates for the representation of that town, in opposition to a Mr. Wm. Wake and a Mr. Sparrow, a clergyman of the Established Church at Bradford preached from the text, Are not two sparrows sold for one farthing;" and looking at the other candidates added, "fear ye not, therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows."

Southey, in his "Common-place Book," mentions a case where the adroit choice of a text was eminently successful. It was the custom at Cambridge for the students to express their dislike to a preacher by scraping their feet. On the occasion referred to, Dr. James Scott, being one day saluted thus, signified his intention

of preaching against the practice of scraping; and very. shortly afterwards took for his text, "Keep thy foot when thou goest to the house of God, and be more ready to hear than to give the sacrifice of fools, for they consider not that they do evil." On its announcement the galleries became one scene of confusion and uproar; but Dr. Scott called to the proctors to preserve silence. This being effected, he delivered a discourse so eloquent as to extort universal approbation.

Some years ago a Baptist minister in the South of England was exceedingly annoyed by the unfavourable criticism passed upon his pulpit deliverances by two or three members of his congregation, as they chatted together at the village ale-house. One Sabbath, seeing them in their accustomed places, he announced for his text, "I was the song of the drunkard," and proceeded to "offer" such uncomplimentary remarks that they left the chapel before the conclusion of the sermon. A few weeks passed away before they were all present again, but at length they were once more assembled, when to their consternation the minister announced, by way of text, the passage, " And being convicted by their own consciences they went out one by one." Of course they were obliged to sit out the sermon, however unpleasant it might be to do so.

But perhaps the most telling selection of a text was that of a Transatlantic divine, who was dreadfully annoyed by the persistency with which a young man insisted upon offering his unwelcome and oft-rebuked attentions to his daughter. Seeing him one Sabbath sit

down in the very pew she occupied, with a look of bold defiance upon his face, the injured parent announced with a look at the intruder which it is impossible to describe, the following text: "My daughter is grievously vexed with a devil."

The stories told of the humorous rebukes administered to the niggardly and parsimonious are innumerable. We content ourselves, however, with quoting the following, which we fancy is not very generally known : A clergyman in Essex, who had long farmed his tithes alternately among his parishioners, suspecting they robbed him, determined to receive his dues in kind. These gentlemen sent to the parson to take away his hay the moment it was cut down, alleging that as soon as it was cut into swathes it was no longer grass, and that he might turn it and cock it himself. Rather than "go to law" the parson submitted, and took his next Sunday's text on brotherly kindness, beginning thus : "Brotherly love may be divided into three partsdomestic affection, social love, and charity; from all which proper inferences may be drawn for instruction. Thus, brethren, I give you a sermon in swathes—ye may turn it and cock it yourselves!" The plan succeeded; his parishioners doubled his income, acknowledging it was then less than it should be; and thus what justice and law might have kept from him for years was given up for a clerical joke.

We have said enough we hope to make it evident that there is a species of humour, the use of which, both in the pulpit and out of it, is justified by the faculty to

employ it, and by the fact that it has been employed by many ministers with considerable effect. Of course we are aware that this faculty, like every other, may be perverted or misemployed, but what Thackeray says of the humorous writer may be applied to the humorous. preacher or public speaker: "The humorous or witty writer proposes to awaken and direct your love of truth, your pity, your kindness; your scorn for untruth, pretence, imposture; your tenderness for the weak, the oppressed, and the unhappy. He comments on almost all the ordinary actions and passions of life."

"Wit," says Barrow, "is properly employed when it enlightens the intellect by good sense conveyed in jocular expression; when it infringes neither on religion, charity, justice nor peace; when it maintains good humour, sweetens conversations, and makes the endearments of society more captivating; when it exposes what is vile and base to contempt; when it reclaims the vicious and laughs them into virtue; when it answers what is below refutation; when it replies to obloquy; when it counterbalances the fashion of error and vice, playing off their own weapons of ridicule upon them; when it adorns truth; when it follows great examples; when it is not used upon subjects improper to it, or in a manner unbecoming, at an undue season, or to a dangerous end."

In the following chapters we propose to furnish evidence and illustrations of its having been thus employed.

CHAPTER II.

EARLY ENGLISH HUMORISTS.

HOUGH we possess abundant evidence that our Saxon ancestors abounded in humour, and indulged in boisterous merriment, we

have but scanty memorials of the existence of religious humorists among them. The most ancient writings of the monks and other ecclesiastics which have come down to us abound in legends of saints, allegories, and fables. A few rude songs, containing satires upon the priesthood, have been preserved. These satires were directed principally against the luxury of the monks, and were mostly written during the thirteenth century in a mixture of Saxon and Norman.

One of the earliest specimens of the "humorous parson we have met with is in the person of NIGELLUS WIREKER, a monk of Canterbury, who lived, it is supposed, in the time of Richard I. He wrote a very amusing poem entitled "The Brunellus," the name of an ass, in which he ridicules the avarice of the monks. Brunellus is dissatisfied because having long ears he

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