Shall all the anxieties, the struggles, and the hopes of the past sixteen months end in this clearance of the Higdons and their friends, the closing of the carpenter’s shop, shall it end like this? If so, I do not envy the rector his victory. Nay, rather do I think it will not only be a barren one, but a distinct blow against the religion he is supposed to represent. What Christianity is this? A BISHOP’S ADVICE. Three people have received notice to quit the globe. The Bishop of Norwich has been appealed to. The _Eastern Daily Press_, July 28th, 1915, which lies on my knee as I write, contains his photo. He is standing outside the Hospital for the Indigent Blind, in Magdalen Street, Norwich, with the Earl and Countess of Leicester, looking as though he had his meals more regularly than many village folk. Surely he is interested in the blind of Burston, also? Shall they be ousted? Will he allow his rector to press this injustice? But he has been appealed to. Here is his reply: The Palace, Norwich. Dear Sir,—I am directed by the Bishop of Norwich to acknowledge receipt of your letter of the 15th, and to say that if the persons named feel aggrieved they should seek redress through the legal tribunals. Yours faithfully, J. A. Parsons, _Secretary_. E. B. Reeves. So His Lordship, with income of £4,500 per year, palace, etc., advises three poor folk, one of whom is blind, to “seek redress through the legal tribunals.” This be certainly His Lordship’s grim joke. How poor folk, waxing lean and keeping families on between £40 and £50 per year, sometimes feasting on bread and lard, whilst glebe owners munch biscuits and cream, can indulge in such luxury as “_The Law_” passes what Darby Doyle would call “the wit av mortial man.” The only law we can appeal to under these circumstances is the Law of Humanity. The ancient tribunal, _vox populi_, _vox Dei_: The voice of the people is the voice of God. I would that these people had better advocate than myself. Their cause is founded on justice, reason, and truth. They want public inquiry which, I believe, will end in their well-beloved teachers reinstatement. The tyranny of the countryside is still a menace to freedom of thought and action. I have done my best to explain this. To the Braves of Burston I tender my appreciation and admiration for their gallant sixteen months’ struggle. They are the pioneers. They are real live women, with red corpuscles dancing in their veins, not the phagocytes of serfdom. None but James Oppenheim, the poet, may do them justice: BREAD AND ROSES.