To read of the relics shown by the monks of Canterbury Cathedral fills one with amazement, both at the impertinence of those disgusting humbugs, and at the illimitable credulity that accepted the exhibition as genuine. Besides the pre-eminently holy (and really genuine) relics of the Blessed Thomas were heaps of bones, hair, teeth, and dust of a vast concourse of miscellaneous saints, with portions of their attire and articles connected with their domestic history. How genuine they were likely to be may be judged from a short list of the most venerated among them. The bed of the Virgin, with the wool she wove, and a garment of her making, occupied the foremost place, and the rock on which the Cross of Christ stood; His sepulchre; the manger; the table used at the Last Supper; the column to which He was bound when He was flagellated by the cursed Jews; and the rock whereon He had stood on ascending into Heaven, were prime favourites. More wonderful still, the monks possessed Aaron's Rod; a portion of the oak on which Abraham mounted that he might see the Lord; and--more stupendously blasphemous than anything else--a specimen of the clay with which God moulded Adam! [Sidenote: THE NEW PILGRIMS] Colet was wearied with all this, and when an arm was brought forward to be kissed which had still the bloody flesh of the martyr clinging to it, he drew back in disgust. The priest then shut up, locked, and double-locked his treasures, and showed them the sumptuous articles, the great wealth of gold and silver ornaments, kept under the altar. Erasmus thought that in the presence of this vast assemblage of precious things even Midas and Croesus would be only beggars, and he sighed that he had nothing like them at home, devoutly praying the Saint for pardon of his impious thought before he moved a step from the Cathedral. However, they had not yet seen all. They were led into the Sacristy, and "Good God!" exclaims Erasmus, "what a display was there of silken vestments, what an array of golden candlesticks!" Saint Thomas's pastoral staff was there, a quite plain stick of pear-wood, with a crook of black horn, covered with silver plate, and no longer than a walking-stick. Here, too, was a coarse silken pall, quite unadorned, and a sudary, dirty from wear, and retaining manifest stains of blood. These things, relics of a more simple age, they willingly kissed, and were then conducted to the Corona, where they saw an effigy of Saint Thomas, "that excellent man," gilt and adorned with many jewels. But here Colet's anger broke forth, and he addressed the priest in this wise. "Good father, is it true what I hear, that Saint Thomas while alive was exceedingly kind to the poor?" "Most true," said he, and he then began to relate many of his acts of benevolence towards the destitute. "I do not imagine," said Colet, "that such disposition of his is changed, but perhaps increased." The priest assented. "Then," rejoined the Dean, "since