presented himself to the soldiers, instead of his guest and master, in the habit or long coat which he wore, and was led bound to the judge.*

4 Here the modern Christian should perceive that it is not only at dinner that he ought to entertain his clergyman, but during "some days." And now let us pause for a moment to picture to ourselves Alban in the clergyman's long coat. May we not, in order to bring the scene more vividly before our minds, have licence to add his M. B. waistcoat, and his wide-awake? Gladly too would the fancy depict his neck-gear; but, unfortunately, history is silent as to whether the clergyman was high or low, broad, scholastic or sporting, so

it is impossible to make any conjecture as to whether his cravat was white, black, or spotted, buttoned. behind or tied in front.

Would that we could see more of the ancient devotion of the laity to the clergy, in our own days. Contrast Alban, standing at the lintel of his doorway, disguised in the clothes of his clergyman with the view of guarding him in his house, as his most cherished treasure, with the modern Englishman ordering his footman to say, "not at home," when he sees his rector approaching his door-step. Again, if Alban was prepared to give his life for his clergyman, how much more ready would he have been to give his money for him, or at least to lend it to him if he got into pecuniary diffi

culties. We should like to see more of this spirit now!

Our greatest pleasure in reading the oft-told tale of the martyrdom of St. Alban, is to reflect that it was Alban's head that was cut off and not the clergyman's. The mind would naturally recoil with horror at the thought of any violence done to a British rector, vicar, or curate; but it is not so difficult to regard the sacrifice of a layman with complacency. It is also a satisfaction of an exceedingly high order to know that the glorious pile of St. Alban's Abbey was erected to honour the memory of one who met death itself rather than forego the pleasure of entertaining his clergyman, and that not only at an occasional dinner, but for some days.

When peaceable times were restored, a church of wonderful workmanship, and suitable to his martyrdom, was erected; in which place, there ceases not to this day the cure of sick persons, and the frequent working of wonders."

5 This fragment of the text alone would be sufficient to prove that the ancient British Church was identical with the Church of England of to-day; for observe the words, "In which place, there ceases not to this day the cure of sick persons." What place? The church, thereby meaning not only the church itself, but the rectory adjoining it. Obviously then, the clergymen's wives, as in these days. so in those, dispensed sundry homely medicines, such as pills, powders, and

castor oil, to the deserving poor of the parish, at the back doors of the rectories or vicarages. No wonder that our historian speaks of "the cure of sick persons."

And may we not conjecture that in all probability the wife of the very clergyman whose valuable life was saved by Alban, dosed and cured "sick persons on this interesting

spot? For what more likely than that the living of the new memorial church would be given to his great friend the clergyman in question?

Notice too the words, "the frequent working of wonders." How thoroughly Anglican ! For do we not constantly hear it said of some new rector, "Mr. So-and-so has worked wonders since he came into the parish"? From Bede's text then we have every reason