“And I, brother,” replied the other hermit, “I left my tree in God’s hands, for He knew what it wanted better than I.” Very different is Meffreth’s story of the fat priest who was carving a capon in Lent, when his servant burst out laughing behind his back. “Sirrah! what are you laughing at?” asked the globular parson. “Oh, your reverence! excuse me, but I could not help thinking what a lot of drippings there would be from you, when hereafter the devils have the roasting of you.” MATTHIAS FABER. Matthias Faber was born at Neumarkt, in Bavaria, in the year 1586. He was appointed to the cure of the parish of St. Maurice in Ingolstadt, and to the professorship of the University in that town. Whilst there, he published three volumes of sermons for every Sunday in the year, and these have gone through six editions. He was much regarded as a preacher, and deservedly so, for he was a man full of learning and genius, though not remarkable for his eloquence. In the year 1637, at the age of fifty-one, he was received into the Society of Jesus at Vienna, and continued after his reception to preach with considerable success. He then published another volume of sermons for all the Sundays and the principal festivals of the year. This book, divided into two parts, is called the Auctuarium, and was thenceforward published along with the former volumes. The Concionum opus tripartitum, together with the Auctuarium, contain one thousand and ninety-six sermons. Besides these, he preached funeral and marriage orations, published after his death, which took place on the 26th of April, 1653, at Tyrnau. It is not to be expected that in such a vast collection all should be of equal merit; and yet few of Faber’s sermons would be put down as bad. The vast majority of them are remarkably good, and full of matter. Not one, perhaps, could be found which does not contain more suggestive remarks than we are accustomed to hear from the modern pulpit in a month. Faber is brief, but what he says he has thought well over, and it is always worth the hearing. He is almost too brief sometimes, for he throws out a brilliant remark, and goes on to another without making the most—without, indeed, making any thing of the former. How great is the contrast between him and a modern preacher, who every Sunday labours through a polished and carefully worded essay, containing in many words the feeblest whiff of an idea! And Faber could vary his matter to suit his hearers. Preaching before his University, he discussed learned questions in Divinity with great lucidity; but preaching to the good citizens of Ingolstadt, he confined himself to practical instructions. His style is dignified and earnest, but it is not eloquent, though many of the passages in his sermons are very graceful. And he is perfectly free from the bombast which supplied the place of eloquence among certain preachers of his day.