fear of the old gods, but they had faith in the better life. They knew in Manchester, so far as we can get at it-compares very well-almost the spirit, and revered the name of Christ. too well-with the Christianity of the 19th.

During this period we may picture the existence of a church, built in Roman style, which long since disappeared. It stood near the larger Roman castrum; probably close to the flat now known as the Knott Mill Fair ground. It is even thought that the annual fair, which only disappeared a year or two since, was a degenerate survival of one of the festivals of that church. The name of that church was St. Michael's. There also arose within the little parish another church, not far from St. Mary's Gate, probably called St. Mary's. Antiquarians have tried, almost in vain, to tell us something about these two earliest Manchester churches. Beyond the fact of their existence, little more is known than their names. Probably both were either destroyed, or allowed to fall to ruin, after the Romans were withdrawn, and our fierce Anglo-Saxon ancestry came, with their wild nature, and their wild deities, to drive, for a time, Christianity away. They did not believe in the sentiments, or the arts, of peace. Their gods hated the men, and would not admit them to Paradise, who lived and died quietly at home. They gained the mastery here. Barbarism returned, and had sway for another two hundred years or more.

At the same time reverence for the old god lingered, and superstitious fears. If we cross the Irwell-a little later than Edwin's day-at one of the fords, that which lies mid-way between the safe-ford, or Sal-ford, and the Street-ford, or Stretford, we shall do so at a place called Odin's-ford. It is called Odin's-ford because his worshippers crossed over there on their way to offer gifts and sacrifices at his shrine. That shrine is in a cave, or den, at Ordsall. Ordshall is indeed the name of his den. Ords-hall-two words, originally meaning very old, and hole or den. In the very old rocky hole-Ordshall--dwelt Odin-and the priests of Odin. And there were times when Manchester Christians, of the old Saxon sort, could scarcely be restrained from crossing the Irwell at Odin's ford, with intent to offer their worship at his shrine. These times were especially those when they feared the coming on of stormy weather, or when they were about to undertake a journey, when streams were at their flood. The story is told of the old Norsemen who, good Christians ashore, always put their trust in Odin when they launched forth to ses. So was it here. Odin was still supposed to have the control of streams and storms. It was he who must be looked to for safety under peril by storm or flood, or on the journey. This belief was only broken up-and the god Odin for ever disposed of here--by Christian monks going over, and dwelling in the old den, Ords-hall, and doing themselves the work that God alone had been able to do. It was such men, believing in none of these fancies, who did for imperilled travellers the same works of guidance and mercy, that have given a name to the hospices of the Alps. It was they who, when the Irwell was high, ferried the wayfarer across the stream. It was they who guided safely across the “fields of trembling mud," as the great mones then were called. It was these men who thus

streams and storms, the perils of flood and field.

Very early in the 7th century we see Christianity coming again. "A tall thin man, with stooping shoulders, and dark piercing eyes; his long black hair falling round his thin and eager face," has come from Rome, and is going about, trying to persuade Briton and Saxon alike, to turn from the gods of strife and blood, to the Great Master of peace and goodwill. He has poor material to work upon here in Britain, and for a time, no visible success. But at length the Saxon king becomes a little interested in this earnest Paulinus, and talks over the religion he preaches with his best men in council. In one of these conversations, an old man says, "O, king, the life of man which we know on this earth, if we-Christ strengthening them--themselves became deliverers, from set it by that life which we know not of, seems ever thus: When you are sitting at meal-time in the winter time, in the midst of your lords, with a great fire in the middle of the hall, so that it is bright and warm within, but out of doors there is cold, sleet, and snow, sometimes a sparrow flies into the hall, through one door and out at the other. While it is in the hall it is at peace, and unhurt by the winter storms for a little space; but it flies out again into the cold gloom whence it came, and your eyes behold it no more. So the life of man seems to us, and we know not whence it comes, nor whither it goes. So, if this new teacher can tell us aught of this, we should, methinks, hearken to his words." Not long after this we may hear the sound of saws and hammers at York; and see the workmen engaged in putting up a wooden shed, that may serve for a church, in which King Edwin is to be baptised. This work is going forward on the very spot now occupied by the grand old minster at York; and out of the little hastily-built wooden structure, through the labour of generations, the glorious edifice has grown. And if you go into our New Town Hall, and look at the mural decorations there by Mr. Madox Brown, you will see a representation of that baptism for which the wooden shed was built. Perhaps you will smile, when you see King Edwin in his somewhat cramped and undignified place; and wonder who put him in, and who will take him out; but none the less will the painting represent to you the act through which Christianity really renewed its life, and had a parish here at Mancastra in the 7th century. Whether Paulinus ever came here himself, I am not sure. But King Edwin did. In the year 620 he came, and remained some time in one or the other of the two strongholds the Romans had built between the mouths of the Irk and the Medlock, on the then clear unsullied Irwell.

If you ask what kind of Christlanity came back to Manchester after the baptism of this Saxon King, only general tradition can tell. The earliest history of England we have finished in the year 731-states that "in Edwin's time there was such perfect peace, that a woman with her new-born babe, might walk from sea to sea, without meeting with insult or injury." We are not to suppose, however, either that the old instincts and usages, or that the old notions and forms of religious worship, instantly fled away. The people, no doubt, were influenced by the new faith of their king; and yet more deeply influenced by the large number of educated Christian men who now came over from the continent and began to dwell in Christ's spirit among them. Life grew more gentle, more humane, more civilised than before. The arts of peace were cultivated. By its fruits, the faith of Edwin was seen to be excellent. I think that the Christianity of the 7th century-even here

Between the time of King Edwin and that in which the parish church begins to be distinctly visible upon its present site, there is still much that is covered by the fury of storms, and impenetrable mists. Swarms of Danes came from oversea. All England fell into bondage to these terrible strangers. They came bere. What those, who professed and called themselves Christians, suffered at their hands, we do not know. But we do know that they had a particular batred for the Christian monks and priests. Mr. Madox Brown has put up for us in the Town Hall also, a picture not a happy one--of the expulsion of these Danes from Manchester. After they had gone, however, the place was still, in a sense, subject unto them. They had to be bribed not to return. To raise this britc-money, a tax was levied on all the dwellers here. Every year a certain sum of money--called Dane-geldt-bad to be sent forth to purchase their peace and good-will. In one of the earliest records of the parish of Manchester, I find that although all other taxes are taken off the land belonging to the church, the Dane-geldt is not remitted. Amid the mistiness of this Danish period, however, one bright figure is discerned-that of Canute, a Dane, and yet a kind, just, and apparently Christian king. Once, at least, during the nineteen years of his reign, he came to Manchester, and is believed to have been very generous towards the old Manchester church. He put the old mill, that ground the grists for the people, at work, so as, in some way, to relieve the burden of its poverty under taxation. The spot on which the old mill stood is still keeping alive his name. Canute's mill-Kuut's millabruptly dropping with us into Knott mill.

In the reign of his successor-Edward the Confessor-some good citizen here-according to Doomsday Book-endowed the old church "with one carve of land, free from military taxes, and all other customs except Dane-geldt." I may as well explain that a carve of land was as much as one plough might till in a single season; and so, of course, varied in extent, somewhat according to the nature of the soil. Probably a carve given to a church would be a generous one. One authority-I know not how reliable--says a carve of land was, sometimes, 240 acres. Later on, the old church is presented with four bocates of land. A borate is as much as one ox can plough in a year-28 acres. You will notice the manner of its endowment. Good men, lovers of their church, give it of their own estate little by little. Still later some one dies and bequeathes it all the land along what is now known as Deansgate. Thus provision is made for its maintenance, and thus its properties increase. In 1422--four hundred and sixty years ago, seventy years before the discovery of America-the Old Parish Church has had thus given to it-

not by any State legislation, but by the goodwill of individuals-about
800 acres of Lancashire land. The church building itself, at that time, was
a large wooden structure almost booth-like in appearance, and scarcely large
enough for the increased population. It was Roman Catholic; and all
the landed estates it possessed had been given to it by Catholics. The
older church edifices had been disused, and worship now centred in this
one. Had you observed, you would have noticed that there were in it
seven services daily; and well attended; so well as to make the necessity
for a larger and better building apparent. The 1st service was at cock-
crowing, or before the break of day-Matins. The 2nd was at sunrise. The
3rd at nine o'clock. The 4th at twelve. The 5th at three in the
afternoon. The 6th, or Vespers, at sunset. And the 7th at nine o'clock
in the evening, when the people gathered devoutly to say a simple prayer
for protection during sleep, or chant their thanks for the mercy of the
vanished day. Besides these seven regular services daily, there were
frequent masses for loved ones gone, fasts, festivals, funerals, confirma-
tions, &c. The men who were on duty were faithful and overworked
Christian men. They were not-as I shall have occasion to show in my
next lecture--the most cultivated and clever of the clergy; but they
were sincere, hard-working, faithful men.
They visited the sick,
relieved the poor, heard the contrition of the penitent, consoled the sad,
encouraged the wavering, consecrated the babe in its baptism, made of
marriage a solemn sacrament, and stood ever at the call and service of
the dying. They had the care of some six shousand parishioners.
But this old wooden structure was no longer to suffice. In 1422 the
present building was begun. Labour might then be had for 2d. per day.
The first cost of the church that now arose, was about £3,000 in the
money of that day; or about £50,000 in the money of our day. For a
pound was once worth more than 16 times its present value; that is, had
more than 16 times its to-day's purchasing power. 2d. a day, therefore, for
the masons, and carpenters, and stone-cutters, meant something more
than a shilling a week would now do. The stone for the building came
from Collyhurst. The building itself was, at first, in the form of a cross,
having a body aisle, and two side aisles. The people contributed freely
towards its erection. A few families gave largely-the Stanleys, the
Radcliffes, and the Byroms. When it was finished it was dedicated to
the Virgin Mary, St. Dionisius, and St. George. King Henry the Fifth,
shortly before his death, licensed, or chartered it as a place in which
divine services were "to be celebrated daily forever." These are his
words" for our good estate whilst we shall live, and for our souls when
we shall have departed from this light, and for the souls of our
progenitors, and for all the souls of the faithful deceased."

If you go into the Old Church to-day-the old church that has stood there
and seen so many changes in the aspects of this Manchester life; whose his-
tory for the last four, almost five centuries, includes the family history of so
many of the quick, and of so great a multitude of the buried dead-if
you go into it, and pass around behind the choir in which the service is
daily held, and look up at the arch over the entrance to the Lady Chapel,
you will see at each bar of that arch a scriptured shield.
On one is a
stag, pursued by a hound and a huntsman. The idea suggested is
hunting. On the other is a huge cask, or tonne, such as you may have
seen used for wine or beer. As you look at it, it suggests nothing but a
tonne. That is all it was intended to suggest. Well, these two shields
-one presenting you with a picture of hunting, and the other the
picture of a tonne-are what was called, in the days when they were put
up, the rebus of the first Warden of the Parish after this building was
erected. His name was Huntington. It was he who built the choir.
When he died he was buried under it. There used to be an effigy of this
good man in the choir itself; but the modern mind has tucked it away
somewhere out of sight, probably underground; so that the verger can
give no account of where it is. In his memorial effigy, this Huntington
was clothed in his sacerdotal vestments, and over him was written the
truthful inscription-" Domine, dilexi decorem domus tuae." O Lord, I
have loved the beauty of Thy house.

To the original cross-shaped church were added, from generation to generation, little side chapels, or chantries, until that original form was lost. A chantry is a little endowed chapel in which, either daily or at stated times, prayers are said for the repose of the souls of the donors. They were once built by persons who could afford it, very much, I suppose, as such persons now put in memorial windows, though more for service, and less for show. The first chantry added to the old church here was, I believe, that in which the statue of Sir Humphrey Cheetham now stands, although the Cheetham family did not build it; only bought and took possession of it. Four other chantries were added to the choir, and three, or more, to the nave. If you go into them you will see both the names of some of the families who originally erected them; and also how more recent wealth has been able to purchase a place for its name therein.

parts of the church were built-a building where now stands the Cheetham Ho pital for the Blue-coat Boys, was occupied by the priests and ecclesiastics of the parish. I think the Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry of Lichfield and Coventry. The Manchester parish was greatly shifted came and lodged there at times, for Manchester was then in the diocese about from diocese to diocese in early times; belonging sometimes to York, and sometimes to Lichfield, and sometimes to Chester. By Queen Elizabeth's time there were here about ten thousand parishioners; and in the years during which that not over amiable lady was determinedmuch against the will of the Lancashire people-to establish Protestant worship here, even by violence and torture, I find that, besides the warden, who was also a priest of the Church, there were two chaplains, four singing men, and four singing boys. The record also has it that every singing man received fourpence ha'penny, and every singing boy twopence three farthings a day for his services.

Now, doubtless, all this that I have been telling is new to some of you. Doubtless some of you will find it hard to realize that the ancient church of the parish was once a Roman Catholic Church, was endowed by Catholics, and built with their money. It was one thing to be aware of a historical fact, and another to realize it. It may also be a difficult thing to picture to yourselves the worship that went on there in those days. Over the high altar towers the great crucifix. On Sundays and feast days that altar is ablaze with candles and tapers. In each of the chantries also services are going on. Old men and little children, the richer people and the pooter, kneel together in the nave, and watch the solemn service of the altar. If they have sinned; if they have a burden upon their conscience; if aught is wrong with them against the great God whom they have not seen, or the brother whom they have seen, they seek to confess their fault, to receive friendly counsel and admonition. The sweet old Latin chants resound; the clouds of incense rise; and from morning to evening the service of prayer goes on, from which the commonest people go cleansed and comforted in spirit, feeling lifted up and strengthened. All this, or much of it, may seem like mummery to you; not so to them. Only that is mummery which is empty and meaningless to him who engages in it. But these people engaged in what to them was full of the bighest meaning, and highest help, they knew. That old Catholic service, in the old Catholic Church of the Manchester parish, was a very real and serviceable thing. People had then a common belief-one faith, one church, one Lord, one baptism. They had a belief that influenced life, a religion that was not a mere matter of intellectual party opinion and dispute. The whole community, whatever other matters separated, were united in it, and by it. I doubt whether the place has ever been Christian or brotherly since.

Let me quote you the words of a personal friend, every one of which I heartily endorse. They were not said of Manchester, but will apply here just as well:

"Roman Catholicism did touch, and influence, and mould the lives of its votaries. A belief-it was a thing to live by. We talk about the . life, know and preach all its rules and precautions; yet, somehow, through all the preaching there runs the sense that the something which makes itself felt as a power of restraint, or of stimulus, is not to be found in it; that speaking much, and often, about fair theories of life, we are yet far behind the old Church in the power, by word and symbol, by architecture, and music, and painting; by a rule of life commencing with the cradle and ending with the grave; by a discipline reaching to every relation; by appointed solemnities and days; by solemn vows and binding sacraments, to teach and mould and direct the whole life, not of one man, or of one class of men alone, but of men and women of every class and condition. We shall see how the Roman Catholic Church fell; but let us not forget that in those years to which our old Church bears test mony, it Christianised this district, in the centre of which it stood. To think of that work, and then to think of the ignorance and foulness, the poverty and the crime which clusters round our Protestant Parish Church now, untouched by any influence that comes from it-that is one of the sad thoughts which, as we pace the old churches and think of the old times, comes to many of us now. The untouched residuum of the people is the disgrace of Protestantism. That so many thousands feel no control or inspiration of religion is the result of a selfishness only a shade less base than the greed and love of ease by which, as we shall see, the old faith fell, and the selfish love of our own speculative opinions, and pet theories of doctrines, and the sectarian rivalries which make these, whatever they may be, and however little capable of proof, whether Unitarian or Trinitarian, take the place of religion. Lives are not for long or very deeply influenced by argument. Something more than an unverified guess is needed for faith; but we call our guesses religion, and whilst we build up and fight about dogmatic systems, paganism is coming back upon us in force. It is sad to think of this, and to see the signs of it on every hand. But from that mood of sadness there always comes to me the trust that, as more and more we base our religion on facts and experience of life, we may, in no long time, see a religion of the free mind and the instructed life which shall be at least as influential as was that faith of the olden time."

The lecture next Sunday evening will give us the transformation scene, and reveal the conspiring causes through which the old Church In the days of which I am speaking--the century in which the oldest ceased to be Catholic, aud was compelled to become Protestant.

SIR

IR Robert Walpole was, after Bolingbroke had left it, the most conspicuous figure in the House of Commons for many years, but, although he was an undoubtedly able debater, he can hardly be considered an orator. The speech he delivered in 1733 in favour of Septennial Parliaments shows that he was a powerful reasoner, but his claims to distinction rest upon his qualities as a masterly tactician, a capable statesman, and a bold and sagacious leader, rather than on his eloquence.

The true successor to Bolingbroke in the realms of oratory was a young "Cornet of Horse," who entered the House of Commons while Walpole was at the height of his power, and who, putting himself forward as the champion of a spirited foreign policy, attacked the ministry with unexampled eloquence, readiness and daring. This young Cornet-" that terrible Cornet of Dragoons," Walpole used to call him, was William Pitt, afterwards Earl of Chatham. Possessed of brilliant parts, he quickly won his way in the House. The Tory party revived its drooping spirits under his leadership, and the old Duchess of Marlborough, who died about that time, bequeathed to the young orator ten thousand pounds, upon account" she said, "of his merit in the noble defence he has made for the support of the laws of England, and to prevent the ruin of his country." Frequent disputes had arisen between England and Spain on account of the severity with which Spain enforced the monopoly of its trade with its

colonies, and the claims she made to vast tracks of land between Mexico and the British settlements. Pitt advocated war, and by playing on the patriotic feelings of his audience, succeeded in shaking the long-established ascendancy of Walpole. The latter was hurried into war with Spain, and reverses overtaking the British army, his majority dwindled away. On the 28th January, 1742, he was defeated in the House of Commons, and then resigned. Pitt was soon afterwards invested with office, and ultimately became Prime

Minister.

By nature, Pitt was haughty and imperious. The authority he held in the House of Commons was such as no other man ever possessed to the same degree. He was not merely the leader of the House of Commons, he was its Dictator, and so arrogant was his demeanour towards the members of his Cabinet, that he himself wrote the naval orders, and obliged Lord Anson, the First Lord of the Admiralty, to sign them. without knowing what they were.

An instance of his power in the house is shewn in an incident in which he and Mr. Moreton, the Chief Justice of Chester, were concerned. The latter happened to say-" King, Lords, and Commons, or (directing his eye towards Pitt) as that right honourable member would call them, Commons, Lords and King." Pitt thereupon deliberately arose, and so frightened the honourable member, that he made the most abject apology. "I meant nothing," he exclaimed, "indeed I meant nothing." "I don't want to push the matter further," said Pitt. "The moment a man acknowledges his error, he ceases to be guilty. I have a great regard for the honourable member, and, as an instance of that regard, I give him this advice; whenever that member means nothing, I recommend him to say nothing."

opposition, was Murray, the Attorney-General, afterwards One of the victim's of Pitt's onslaughts while he was in debater, and a man of high ability, but he suffered so much distinguished as Lord Mansfield. He was an accomplished from the attacks Pitt made upon him, that it has been said he gave up the prospects of reaching the Chancellorship and fled, panic stricken to the less exalted sphere of the King's violent speech of Pitt's to actually crouch down with terror. One writer speaks of his having been seen after a

Bench.

It was after one of his scathing attacks, directed principally against Hume Campbell, a Scotch lawyer of considerable powers, that Horace Walpole wrote--"Oh, you never heard such an invective as Pitt returned! Campbell was annihilated; like an angry wasp Pitt seems to have left his sting in the

wound."

Pitt was possessed of transcendent powers as an orator and some of his speeches rank among the finest specimens o British classic eloquence. His style was grand and majestic His administration of affairs was distinguished by prosperity yet it was also perfectly natural, and his great passages were at home, and the most striking success abroad. We were at as sudden and unexpected as they were powerful. He would war with France when he took the helm of affairs, and by overwhelm an antagonist by a torrent of words expressing the energy of his administration he produced such results, vehement indignation. Some one having spoken of "the that in a short time France was despoiled of several of her obstinacy of America," went on to say that " she was almost colonial possessions, Canada was conquered, the Havannah in open rebellion." Pitt exclaimed "I rejoice that America was taken from Spain, and decisive naval victories were las resisted. Three millions of people, so dead to all the obtained. While all this was going on, the nation was per- feelings of liberty as voluntarily to let themselves be made fectly contented and prosperous, and "England" says slaves, would have been fit instruments to make slaves of all Brougham, "for the first time and the last time, presented the rest!"-Then, speaking of the attempt to keep her down the astonishing picture of a nation supporting without murmur" In a just cause of quarrel you may crush America to a widely-extended and costly war, and a people, hitherto torn atoms; but in this crying injustice-I am one who will lift up with conflicting parties, united in the service of the Common- my hands against it-In such a cause even your success would wealth, that the voice of faction had ceased in the land, and be hazardous. America, if she fell, would fall like the strong any discordant whisper was heard no more." "These" wrote man; she would embrace the pillars of the State, and pull Horace Walpole, "are the doings of Mr. Pitt, and they are down the Constitution along with her. Is this your boasted wondrous in our eyes." peace to sheath the sword, not in its scabbard, but in the bowels of your countrymen?"

Pitt attained such a height of popularity that at one time he was the idol of his countrymen, and so great was his power that his name was feared throughout Europe. But while he was at the summit of his influence and popularity, he fell. In an evil hour he allowed himself to be persuaded to accept a peerage, and from that moment the affection which the people had borne him, was gone. He retired from office a short time afterwards and sank into comparative obscurity. Towards the close of his life he revived the memories of his former power by astonishing displays of eloquence, but he never again recovered the height from which he had fallen.

And, in 1777, after describing the cause of the war, and "the traffic and barter driven with every little pitiful German prince that sells his subjects to the shambles of a foreign country," he added, "The mercenary aid on which you rely irritates to an incurable resentment the minds of our enemies, whom you overrun with the sordid sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty! If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arins, never! never! never!"

Mr. Mc.KECHNIE (Leith), in defending the bill, said he thought that The FOREIGN SECRETARY-Perhaps the hon. member will give notice hon. members on the opposite benches were dull of comprehension, of that question? because be considered the bill as consistent, logical, and anything but

Mr. GAHAN-I will repeat my question, and shall expect a reply at the illusory. As for the argument of the hon. member who had preceded next meeting. him, he thought his argument was extremely absurd.