Some saints are a long time in coming to their own. The powers that decide such matters are very deliberate; they are "left at the post" even by such august institutions as Royal Commissions, Parish Councils and Leagues of Nations. We all know how long it took before Joan of Arc was duly canonized, yet her case was perfectly clear; she had her visions, she acted upon them, she also gave advice freely, and was eventually burnt at the stake; in fact, there can have been no doubt, from the very beginning of her career, but that she was the stuff that saints are made of. Another saint whose recognition was very tardy is St. John Nepomuk. He is probably quite unknown to England even to this day, notwithstanding the fact that he stood in close if somewhat uncomfortable relations to one who figures in an English carol, namely, this Good King Wenceslaus. Now there is relativity in goodness, and this feature was strongly marked in the King of Bohemia of whom we sing at Christmas time. One absolute departure from goodness is reported of him, namely, that he caused his wife's father-confessor to be thrown into the river at Prague; and this man was John Nepomuk. The trouble arose out of curiosity, and perhaps jealousy. Wine had also a good deal to do with the business; the wine of Mělnik, both white and red, was probably as pleasant to the taste then as it is to-day, and Wenceslaus thought so too. His Queen Sophie was a very good wife indeed, so Wenceslaus, wondering what such a very dear and gentle lady could have to confess, inquired of John Nepomuk about this. I fear John was one of those exasperating persons who give the soft answer that makes one very wild. It had that effect on Wenceslaus; he went off into an ungovernable rage and had John dragged down to the river and thrown in. I believe John's tongue was torn out first. Anyway, this is the sort of picturesque addition that you expect. There is a statue to John Nepomuk on the Charles Bridge, there is a tablet to mark the spot where he was thrown in, and there is his shrine in the cathedral which Lützow, by the way, describes as of "barbaric splendour."