When undoubted monastic evils come to light through visitations, they bring to mind a graphic story that was a favourite pulpit illustration of that saintly French parish priest of last century, the Curé d’Ars, showing the fierce and persistent temptations that beset the earnest strivers. A hermit, who doubted of the reality of the powers of darkness, had a prayer granted that he might for one day be able to see these hidden forces. Taking a journey that day to a distant city, mainly heathen, he had to pass a house of religious men of great repute. To his horror he noticed devils hovering over the roofs, and perched on every point of vantage on the walls, and at first thought that it was a terrible abode of hypocrisy. But journeying on to the bad city, and finding only one sleepy imp over the gateway, he realised that Satan knows well the power of goodness, and how best to distribute his forces. We believe, with emphasis, after a close and absolutely candid study of the whole of the episcopal act-books of several of our more important English sees, and of a great variety of monastic records, as well as of all that has been printed pertaining to England’s old religious houses, that no unprejudiced person could possibly follow such a line of study without coming to the conclusion that goodness of life very largely predominated, and that the records of evil--all things considered--were singularly few and far between. It also appears to be well established that the general morality and uprightness of the regular clergy was a good deal in advance--as it ought to have been--of that of the secular clergy.