74 FIELD AND HEDGEROW. 



with ' many an oak that grew thereby,' have been the 

 scene of historic events down from the days of St. Dun- 

 stan. In the quiet of the Sunday afternoon, when the 

 clashing of the bells was stilled, there walked in the 

 shade of the oaks a young priest and a lady. His well- 

 shaped form seemed the better shown by his flowing 

 cassock ; his handsome face was refined by its air of 

 late devotion. The lady, dressed in the highest style of 

 aristocratic fashion, that is to say with grace, was evi- 

 dently a member of good society. A little picture cer- 

 tainly : only two figures, no pronounced action, no tra- 

 gedy, yet what a meaning in that cassock ! It spoke of 

 confession, of ritual, of transubstantiation, of all the great 

 historic romance of Rome ecclesiastical. The great 

 romance of Rome : its holy footsteps of St. Peter, its 

 aerial dome of Michael Angelo, its Vatican of ancient 

 manuscripts, of beauteous statue and chariot — the great 

 romance of Rome, its Borgia, its dungeons and flames of 

 the Inquisition. A picture of two figures only, but con- 

 sider the background. Consider the thousands of broad 

 English acres that now support great monasteries and 

 convents in quiet country places where one could scarce 

 expect to find a barn. The buildings are there ; that is 

 a solid fact, take what view you like of them, or take 

 none at all. There are men about country roads with 

 shaven crown and cassock whose dark Continental faces 

 have an unmistakable stamp of priesthood ; faces that 

 might be pictured with those of the monks of old Spain. 

 Women in long black cloaks, black hoods and white coif, 

 women with long black rosaries hanging from the girdle, 

 go to and fro among the wheat and the clover. One 

 rubs one's eyes. Are these the days of Friar Laurence 

 and Juliet ? Shall we meet the mitred abbot with his 

 sumpter mule ? Shall we meet the mailed knights ? In 



