quickly. To keep up the hierarchy, there must be little applications made to men, they must be brought on by little and little. So in the primitive times the power was gained, and so it must be continued. Scaliger said of Erasmus: Si minor esse voluit, major fuisset. So we may say of the Bishops, Si minores esse voluerint, majores fuissent." The Rev. Francis Close, Cheltenham. To my mind what goes by the name of religion at most fashionable watering-places, instead of being a mild, meek-eyed handmaid, is a pert, prankt-up, talkative miss-to be met with in promenades, in public rooms, to be encountered in morning calls, and to be seen fluttering from house to house, with tripping toe and mincing tongue. This is pretty well the way at Cheltenham. A kind of clerical atmosphere pervades the place religion there means, for the most part, some favourite parson, and the practice of piety is thought to consist in interminable gossip about doctrines. For my part I was quite sick of the "religious profanity” which I met with on all sides; perhaps the phrase may not be understood, but I mean by it that everlasting frivolous introduction into the trifling concerns and conversations of life, of the most awful of subjects, many weak people mistaking this reprehensible familiarity for true piety. Of course no one can ever think of Cheltenham without associating the Rev. Francis Close with it. He is essentially "the Man of Cheltenham"-the genius of the place; nothing is begun without him-indeed, he generally begins everything himself; nothing is concluded without him-his consent alone gives the finishing stroke. From Pitville to Montpelier he "Doth bestride the narrow world, "Like a Colossus;" Is there a public meeting, the Rev. Francis Close is in the chair, Is there a public topic, the Rev. Francis Ꮓ Close is on the platform,--Are the charity-children regaled with plum-cake and tea, you may see the firm head and broad shoulders of the Rev. Francis Close, presiding amongst the fumes of flowery Pekoe, and the flocks of petticoated philanthropy,-Is there a meeting about railroads, there you find the Rev. Francis Close mightier than the spirit of locomotion itself,-Is there an occasion of public rejoicing, he orders the illumination. Is there an opposition to anything obnoxious, he commands the van. Take up any of the local journals, and the Rev. Francis Close is sure to meet the eye in every second paragraph. I recollect once, during the former mayoralty of my friend John Kerle Haberfield, counting his name thirty-five times in each of the Saturday newspapers of Bristol: this, however, was only an occasional occurrence; the Rev. Francis Close is always before the public. Cast your eyes to the placards on the walls-the Rev. Francis Close stares you in the face, as preaching at Puseyism or thundering against Popery. Is there a Consecration, or clergy meeting, he takes precedence in the public journals of prelates and dignitaries; and the complacent reporter tells us that amongst the company present he noticed, "the Rev. Francis Close, the Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol, the Archdeacon," &c., &c. "Now in the name of all the Gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed, I cannot answer the question myself; but I have heard it said that his admirers discharge his butcher's bills quarterly, which, if not idle rumour, is much to the point and purpose. This I know, however, that his friends built him a splendid house; and, instead of making it a parsonage, conveyed it to him as private property for ever. Presents, besides, innumerable crowd to his doors; ladies become solicitors for the honor of enriching him; and a thousand little devices are formed by amiable dowagers for making his lot in life as equable as possible. Indeed, the atmosphere of Cheltenham seems to be favorable to the cultivation of this charitable virtue, not merely in Mr. Close's case alone, but in that of many of the clergy beside. There appears to be even a kind of rivalry amongst the congregations, each running a race with the other as to which shall most richly reward its favorite preacher: thus, for instance, Mr. Close got a house; but the Rev. Mr. Browne's hearers soon eclipsed the people of the Old Church, by giving their pastor similar accommodation, and furnishing the edifice also. There are numerous minor instances of liberality, that might be quoted, towards other clergymen of the place; the gift system being carried on even to such a minute degree of dress, as to remind one of the present made to Rosseau by the fair and romantic D'Epinay.* It is some eighteen months, or rather more, since I first saw the Vicar of Cheltenham; and as first impressions are always the most marked and vivid, I shall give an account of that visit, in preference to the more recent one. It was to a Sunday evening service early in Spring; and though prayers had not commenced, I could hardly crush through the porch, so crowded was it with persons anxious, like myself, to hear "The Thunderer of the Place of Waters." I worked my way, as energetically as a man of my age could, up the aisles, which were literally choked with people, and at length got hold of a little man who was busying himself to find accommodation for us all in the few remaining vacant seats, which were nothing amongst so many. I should tell you, that the utmost ingenuity has been used in the old church (which is itself a considerable size), to make it available in every point of accommodation: pews are poised on, and projected from * "Un jour, qu'il geloit très fort, en ouvrant un paquet qu'elle m'envoyoit, je trouvai un petit jupon de flanelle d'Angleterre, qu'elle me marquoit avoir porté, et dont elle vouloit que je me fisse faire un gilet. Ce soin (continues the author of the Confessions) plus qu'amical me parut si tendre, comme si elle se fût dépouillée pour me vêtir, que dans mon émotion, je baisai vingt fois en pleurant le billet et le jupon." the most outlandish places-every jutty, frieze and coigne of vantage is employed as a perch for some hearer; so that the whole presents the most extraordinary appearance of wood-work and boxes. Into one of these curious little round-the-corner nooks the sexton showed me: but I was hardly seated when I perceived that from my situation I had no chance of seeing the vicar; and as seeing had a good deal (I confess) to do with my visit, I begged to be moved to some more eligible point. The man, to his credit be it said, complied very civilly with my request; and I was far better accommodated in the second instance, next to an old gentleman, who, before taking his seat, drew an Indiarubber cushion from his pocket, and, after blowing into it, sat down on the inflated foundation. I never before saw such a congregation in my life, for the size of the building it seemed as though they were piled on each others' heads-tier upon tier, they sat with their eyes intent upon the reading-desk, until the vicar, making his appearance from the vestry, occupied his place. : Then this, thought I, is the renowned Mr. Close, of Cheltenham, as turning briskly over the Bible, he marked the lessons, hemming once or twice with the clear emphatic voice of a strong man. I will say that I was not displeased with my first glance; I rather liked his downright brusque look, for I had always associated in my mind something namby-pamby with the idea of a popular preacher. There is not a particle of the latter, however, in the Vicar of Cheltenham; he has a full open face, and a frank, fearless shaped head, firmly set, with rather a thick neck on a broad pair of shoulders he has a stout figure to correspond, and his whole look and deportment is that of a man used to have his own way, and to lord it at least over Cheltenham: his tone and manner, too, are those of one who is conscious of addressing people who would no more think of questioning what he said, than the Ancients would of giving the lie to the oracles of Delphi. In shape and appearance, and form of face, he reminded me of the |