It is almost as bad when we turn to names that are less Romishly suggestive. How can it be consistent with his more orthodox duties, for an Archdeacon to be a furniture-broker, a Dean to be a rag and bottle merchant, or a Bishop to be a tobacco and snuff manufacturer! If my stern critic doubts my word, I can only refer him to the London Directory. There, sir, I’m sticking to my text this time, surely! I know a “Priest,” too, who keeps a chandler’s shop Marylebone way, and a “Deacon” who employs his leisure hours in the delightful occupation of chimney-sweeping; he resides in the vicinity of Edgeware Road. Not that I blame them; for what better can you expect from either Priests or Deacons, so long as Bishops, Deans, and Archdeacons are guilty of such vagaries as I have stated? There was a time,—now a long while ago,—when two personages contended for the honours of the Papal chair. There are no less than thirty-six Popes in London at this present moment; one is a greengrocer, by the way. I have not heard of their quarrelling; and so far, at least, this must be considered satisfactory. A good deal of blood was shed over the rival claims of the first two. When James the First came on a visit to Sir Thomas Pope, near Oxford, the Knight’s little daughter was introduced to his Majesty with these lines,— “See! this little mistress here Did never sit in Peter’s chair, Neither a triple crown did wear, And yet she is a Pope! “No benefice she ever sold, Nor did dispense with sin for gold; She hardly is a fortnight old, And yet she is a Pope! “A female Pope, you’ll say, ‘a second Joan?’ No, sure, she is Pope _Innocent_, or none.” An epigram, or a bit of wit, always pleased James the First, who was no mean punster himself; and no doubt this little entertainment at the entrance of the knight’s mansion helped materially to make his Majesty enjoy the hospitalities lavished upon him within.