One name I have never yet seen in the London Directory, which occurs in the old parliamentary writs—that of “Hugh Holy-water-clerk.” He dwelt at Lincoln, and was doubtless connected with the cathedral body. But the old “Paternoster” still exists hale and hearty, as anybody may see who will take the trouble to inspect the big book of reference which gives title to my pages. How many thousands there are who daily pass Paternoster Row, and never reflect that it derived its name from the fact that several tradesmen who strung beads dwelt there. They were called “Paternosters,” and found ample occupation and profit, no doubt, in selling their religious ware to the people as they entered the old cathedral to patter aves. That they bore this name Mr. Riley has shown in his “Memorials of London,” wherein not merely is “William le Paternoster” mentioned as dwelling there, but a Robert Ornel is described as following the trade of “paternoster.” What a history there is conveyed in such a registered name as “Sarah Paternoster, fishmonger, 336, Hackney Road”! For centuries, as the name has passed on from one generation to another, there has been handed down with it a memorial of a time which can never return,—at least, I believe it can never return,—a time when our more superstitious forefathers and foremothers thought they could win the favour of Heaven and the grace of God by a glib and unmeaning reiteration of a prayer carefully and solemnly framed by Christ Himself to express and comprehend all the needs of the human heart. It is neither the length of our prayers nor the number of our invocations that will save us. It is the peculiarity of the Gospel narrative, that those who received benefit at Christ’s hands were they who uttered very short prayers; but then they knew what were asking for, and from whom they were making request. Why, if grace depended on the _quantity_ of prayer, then we could reduce the holiness of believers to a mere arithmetical ratio, and by the amount of their petitions demonstrate to so many fractions how much more saintly one Christian was than another. But I had better stop, or my reader will think I am preaching a sermon. Wouldn’t my stern critic come down heavily on me then? And I should not know what to say in self-defence! CHAPTER VIII. THE EMPLOYMENTS OF OUR FOREFATHERS.