And those who preached seem rarely to have been of a very edifying order of preachers; Bishop Blomfield used to relate how, in his boyhood, when at Bury St. Edmund’s, the Marquis of Bristol had given a number of scarlet cloaks to some poor old women; they all appeared at church on the following Sunday, resplendent in their new and bright array, and the clergyman made the donation of the marquis the subject of his discourse, announcing his text with a graceful wave of his hand towards the poor old bodies who were sitting there all together: “Even Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these!” This worthy seems to have been very capable of such things: on another occasion a dole of potatoes was distributed by the local authorities in Bury, and this also was improved in a sermon. “He had himself,” the bishop says, “a very corpulent frame, and pompous manner, and a habit of rolling from side to side while he delivered himself of his breathing thoughts and burning words; on the occasion of the potato dole, he chose for his singularly appropriate text (Exodus xvi. 15): ‘And when the children of Israel saw it, they said one to another, It is manna;’ and thence he proceeded to discourse to the recipients of the potatoes on the warning furnished by the Israelites against the sin of gluttony, and the wickedness of taking more than their share.” When that admirable man, Mr. Shirley, began his evangelistic ministry as the friend and coadjutor of his cousin, the Countess of Huntingdon, a curate went to the archbishop to complain of his unclerical proceedings: “Oh, your grace, I have something of great importance to communicate; it will astonish you!” “Indeed, what can it be?” said the archbishop. “Why, my lord,” replied he, throwing into his countenance an expression of horror, and expecting the archbishop to be petrified with astonishment, “he actually wears white stockings!” “Very unclerical indeed,” said the archbishop, apparently much surprised; he drew his chair near to the curate, and with peculiar earnestness, and in a sort of confidential whisper, said, “Now tell me—I ask this with peculiar feelings of interest—does Mr. Shirley wear them over his boots?” “Why, no, your grace, I cannot say he does.” “Well, sir, the first time you ever hear of Mr. Shirley wearing them over his boots, be so good as to warn me, and I shall know how to deal with him!”