Again, Father Spencer never heeded what we call the public, as he said himself he wished to ignore its existence; and strange enough by that very means he gained its esteem. This is best illustrated by what happened on his return from France, in '38. He saw the clergy there of course go about in their soutanes and full ecclesiastical costume; and he did not see why he might not do the same. He ignored the public, put on his cassock, and went in full priestly costume everywhere. He went to towns, into trains and omnibuses, walks the streets, and he gives the result in a letter to a friend thus: "This has not procured me one {263} disrespectful word, which is worthy of remark here, for I do not think I ever passed two or three weeks in this place without being hooted after by boys or men somewhere." Thus we have the servant following his Master, drinking in insults as sweet draughts in silence and humility; and when he was supposed to be ground to the very earth by ignominy, gaining a respect, a love, and a reputation that is as fresh to-day in his old parish among not only those who knew him but their children who heard of him. Yes, this day, more than 25 years in distance of time, he is, if possible, more venerated and more regretted than the day he resigned the pastoral charge of West Bromwich. {264} CHAPTER X. Father Spencer Comes To Oscott. The Bishop, Dr. Walsh, calls Mr. Spencer to Oscott College towards the end of April or perhaps in the beginning of May, 1839. The object of this change was, to give him the spiritual care of the students, in order that he might shape their characters, and infuse into them that apostolic spirit of which he had already given such proofs. Here is one other instance of the true way to real distinction in greatness in the Catholic Church, lying through the road humility and its concomitant virtues points out. Father Spencer sought to be unknown; he petitioned for the poorest and the most unprovided mission. In his little parish he found his earthly paradise, and the toils and troubles he went through, to make his practice keep pace with his fervour, formed the links of his happiness. He prayed, he lectured, he heard confessions; he sought the stragglers in their haunts of idleness; he had no idea of extending his sphere of action beyond the limits of his mission, and, he even made the half of that over to another, that his working could be the more effectual as its space was narrowed. Every plan he devised for doing good on a large scale was fated to become abortive. His natural means of influence he had cast aside; he gave up writing in newspapers, and let dogs bark at him without stooping to notice them; his high connections were virtually sundered when he gave up paying visits to his family; his property he divested himself of altogether, and grieved that the steward who was appointed to look after him took too much care of him, and did not let him feel what it was to be poor indeed.