The following passage from Father Newman's Lectures on Catholicism in England so forcibly illustrates the argument of the former Tract (No. 73, Image-Worship not Idolatry), that it has been thought it might be useful to append it here:-

"A Protestant blames Catholics for showing honour to images; yet he does it himself. And first, he sees no difficulty in an observance, in relation to them quite as repugnant to his own ideas of what is rational as the practice he abominates; and that is, the offering insult and mockery to them. Where is the good sense of showing dishonour, if it be stupid and brutish to show honour? Approbation and criticism, praise and blame, go together. I do not mean, of course, that you dishonour what you honour; but that the two ideas of honour and dishonour so go together, that where you can apply (rightly or wrongly, but still) where it is possible to apply the one, it is possible to apply the other. Tell me, then, what is meant by burning bishops, or cardinals, or popes in effigy ? has it no meaning? is it not plainly intended for an insult? Would any one who was burned in effigy feel it no insult? Well, then, how is it not absurd to feel pain at being dishonoured in effigy, yet absurd to feel pleasure at being honoured in effigy? How is it childish to honour an image, if it is not childish to dishonour it? This only can a Protestant say in defence of the act which he allows and practises, that he is used to it, whereas to the other he is not used. Honour is a new idea,-it comes strange to him; and, wonderful to say, he does not see that he has admitted it in principle already, in admitting dishonour; and after preaching against the Catholic, who crowns an image of the Madonna, he complacently goes his way, and sets light to a straw effigy of Guy Fawkes.

'But this is not all; Protestants actually set up images to represent their heroes, and they show them honour without any misgiving. The very flower and cream of Protestantism used to glory in the statue of King William on College Green, Dublin; and, though I cannot make any reference in point, I recollect well what a shriek they raised

32 IMAGE-WORSHIP NOT OPPOSED TO PRIMITIVE PRACTICE.

Some

some years ago when the figure was unhorsed. profane person one night blew the king right out of his saddle, and he was found by those who took interest in him, like Dagon, on the ground. You might have thought the poor senseless block had life, to see the way people took on about it, and how they spoke of his face, and his arms, and his legs; yet those same Protestants, I say, would at the same time be horrified, had I used he' and 'him' of a Crucifix, and would call me one of the monsters described in the Apocalypse, did I honour my living Lord as they their dead king."-Lecture v. pp. 171-173.

John Jones and the Vicar;

OR,

WHAT DOES MASS MEAN?

[John Jones meets the Vicar of the Parish.] Vicar. Ah, John! I missed you from your place at church last Sunday; how was that?

John. Well, sir, to say the truth, I thought I would go and take a look at the Catholics. My neighbour, Taylor, said he was willing to take me; so we went together.

Vicar. I am sorry to hear that, my friend. You should not put yourself in the way of temptation; it was what Eve did when she looked at the apple, and saw it was fair and enticing. Those people have the art of dressing up their churches, and bewildering plain folks with their music and incense, till they begin to think what is so grand must needs be true. But you know all is not gold that glitters; there's many a thing beautiful without being sound.

John. Well, sir, I can't say there was much in the Catholic chapel that looked grand and beautiful in outward seeming in fact, there was a poorish look about the whole place. Your reverence's new drawing-room, as I helped to hang the damask curtains in, is grander by half. But what took me so much on Sunday, and what I haven't got over yet, was the devotion of the folks in chapel.

Vicar. Ah, there it is again. What! every one coming out at the top of his voice with chants all in Latin, that neither you nor they could understand a word of, I suppose. Is that to be called devotion? Or would St. Paul have spoken of that as a "reasonable service?"

John. No, sir; I didn't mean anything of that. There was hardly any singing at all, and what there was I didn't

much mind; but it was the still quiet prayer the people were in, that made me feel somehow it was like no other place of worship I ever found myself in before. Why, sir, they all seemed to be in earnest in what they were about: all down upon their knees the whole time, except at the sermon; even the children so hushed, and looking so stedfast, watching the altar, as if they really knew what was going on there. I made Taylor rather late, and Mass was begun when we came in; but though I took particular notice, I could not observe that a single person turned so much as an eye to see who we were, except that drunken fellow Terry O'Leary, whom your reverence threatened with the stocks last Quarter-Sessions; and yet it was not long before I saw Terry himself down on his knees beating his breast like a good one.

Vicar. Well, John, I'm the last to object to people being on their knees; and, indeed, I wish more would follow the good example you set in your parish church in that respect. But still, you see we are not to inquire so much what men's outward posture is, as what is going on in their hearts all the while. These people you saw knelt down because their priest bid them, just as an Indian might kneel down to the figure of Juggernaut, or any other idol; and while they were there they heard sounds, and that was all. The priest was muttering Latin, of which they understood not a word. They knew they were coming to Mass, and knew no more; and when Mass was finished, they got up and went away, none the wiser, none the better. Now, my good friend, compare this vain ceremony, that must just starve the souls of those poor people, with what you missed by not coming to church,-a plain, straightforward, sensible address, suited to the manliness of the English character, with every thing, from "when the wicked man down to the last sentence in the sermon, made as plain to your understanding as the light of day.

John. Well, sir, I don't know about the church-service being as plain to my understanding as the light of day; there's a deal in it that we simple folk don't altogether take in, somehow. However, that's our fault, 'cause we're ignorant; at any rate, the service is in English, and the