practical Hageth or with one or two of his successors, of whom brief mention must now be made. The fourth Abbot, for instance, Turgesius by name, was an ascetic of the true medieval type. Not only did he abjure shoes in the bitterest weather and clothe himself continually in hair-cloth, but, with that rare logic of the emotions which is so unanswerable in theory and so self-refuting in practice, he wept continually for his own and other men's sins and miseries, and refused to be comforted. 'Through levity of heart and small care for our failings," says the author of the Imitatio, "we become insensible of the real sorrows of our souls; and so oftentimes we vainly laugh when we have just cause to weep." Into this error Turgesius was not likely to fall. “In common conversation he could scarcely refrain from weeping. At the altar, he never celebrated without such a profusion of tears, that his eyes might be said rather to rain than to weep, and scarcely any other person could use the sacerdotal vestments after him." He was thus an early example of the class of Christians who will not or cannot realise that goodness is, after all, on the winning side; and who miss the strain of subdued triumph which sounds through all the Bible, till it breaks into the rapture of the Apocalypse, the dim but not uncertain herald

light of dawn, which, falling upon saintly brows, reveals them to us "as sorrowful yet alway rejoicing.' For nine years Turgesius governed Kirkstall, and then retired to weep away his remaining years at Fountains.

Two of his successors, Helias (1209) and Grimstone (1284), seem to have revived the businesslike traditions of Alexander; and there remains an excellent letter written by Grimstone from St. Sever in Gascony, whither he had gone to beg the intervention of King Edward I. between the monastery and its hungry creditors. Unfortunately the letter, which has been translated by Dr. Whitaker in his History of Craven, is too long for insertion in this place; and for the same reason we must content ourselves with a few brief extracts from that which Grimstone's successor, John de Bridsall, addressed to the convent while engaged on a similar mission. The latter savours less of the bursar and more of the priest, and in its wisdom and devout tone there is certainly nothing to remind us that we are close upon the date of Piers Plowman's Vision and The Canterbury Tales.

Beloved," he begins, "we have written this letter in haste from Canterbury, knowing that an account of the success of our journey will be pleasing to you. In the first place, our dear

brother who was present will inform you, that on the morrow of St. Lawrence we were met by letters from the King in a very threatening style, that we were apprised of robbers who laid wait for us in the woods, under a rock, and that we were bound, under penalty of forfeiting all our goods, to abide the King's pleasure. However, having been at length dismissed from his presence with honour, we proceeded on our way; and notwithstanding the delay in London, arrived at Canterbury on Monday evening, ourselves, our servants and horses, being all well. We are not without hope, therefore, that our feeble beginnings may be followed by better fortune,” etc. "For the time we commend you, dear brethren, to God, and our bodily safety to your prayers. But especially pray for the salvation of our soul, for we are not greatly solicitous if this earthly part of us be delivered into the hand of the wicked one, so that the spirit be saved in the day of the Lord, which we hope for through your intercession; yet we should wish, if it be the will of God, to be committed to the earth by your hands, wherever you shall dispose. But know assuredly that if we return, whoever appears to have been most humble in conversation and active in business during our absence, shall receive an ample measure of grace and recompense from God, and shall every hour be most affectionately regarded by us.

"Ye know, dearly beloved, that worldly occupations such as we have long been entangled in for your sakes, are not without danger to the soul. But we derive great hopes from your compassion, seeing that we aim at no earthly advantage, nor consume the revenues of the monastery without cause. We commend you again to God and the Blessed Virgin."

John Ripeley, twenty-seventh and last Abbot of Kirkstall, to whom fell, in November 1540, the detested task of surrendering his monastery to the Crown, is said to have been unable to tear himself