one of which entertained the least scruple about her articles,
her liturgy, her government, or her ceremonies.

Far different is the policy of Rome. The ignorant enthusiast whom
the Anglican Church makes an enemy, and whatever the polite and
learned may think, a most dangerous enemy, the Catholic Church
makes a champion. She bids him nurse his beard, covers him with a
gown and hood of coarse dark stuff, ties a rope round his waist,
and sends him forth to teach in her name. He costs her nothing.
He takes not a ducat away from the revenues of her beneficed
clergy. He lives by the alms of those who respect his spiritual
character, and are grateful for his instructions. He preaches,
not exactly in the style of Massillon, but in a way which moves
the passions of uneducated hearers; and all his influence is
employed to strengthen the Church of which he is a minister. To
that Church he becomes as strongly attached as any of the
cardinals whose scarlet carriages and liveries crowd the entrance
of the palace on the Quirinal. In this way the Church of Rome
unites in herself all the strength of establishment, and all the
strength of dissent. With the utmost pomp of a dominant hierarchy
above, she has all the energy of the voluntary system below. It
would be easy to mention very recent instances in which the
hearts of hundreds of thousands, estranged from her by the
selfishness, sloth, and cowardice of the beneficed clergy, have
been brought back by the zeal of the begging friars.

Even for female agency there is a place in her system. To devout
women she assigns spiritual functions, dignities, and
magistracies. In our country, if a noble lady is moved by more
than ordinary zeal for the propagation of religion, the chance is