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 
aérial 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 finda 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 mect the mailed knights? In 
