"Thinkers," he said once to a young and ardent novice, studying for
the priesthood, "are generally socialists and revolutionists. They
are an offence to the Church and a danger to the community."

"Surely," murmured the novice timidly,--"Our Lord Himself was a
thinker? And a Socialist likewise?"

But at this the Archbishop rose up in wrath and flashed forth
menace;--

"If you are a follower of Renan, sir, you had better admit it before
proceeding further in your studies," he said irately,--"The Church
is too much troubled in these days by the members of a useless and
degenerate apostasy!" Whereupon the young man had left his presence
abashed, puzzled, and humiliated; but scarcely penitent, inasmuch as
his New Testament taught him that he was right and that the
Archbishop was wrong.

Truth to tell, the Archbishop was very often wrong. Wrapped up in
himself and his own fixed notions as to how life should be lived, he
seldom looked out upon the larger world, and obstinately refused to
take any thoughtful notice of the general tendency of public opinion
in all countries concerning religion and morality. All that he was
unable to explain, he flatly denied,--and his prejudices were as
violent as his hatred of contradiction was keen. The saintly life
and noble deeds of Felix Bonpre had reached him from time to time
through various rumours repeated by different priests and
dignitaries of the Church, who had travelled as far as the distant
little Cathedral-town embowered among towering pines and elm trees,
where the Cardinal had his abiding seat of duty;--and he had been