do earnestly hope that the suggestion of Doctor Chalmers will be carried into immediate practical effect, and that Missionaries, preaching true Christianity, will be sent among the rich and benighted people of this country,—­so that the poor may believe that the Scriptures are something more than mere printed paper, seeing their glorious effects in the awakened hearts of those who, in the arrogance of their old idolatry, called themselves their betters!

“A universal Christian education!” To this end, the Bench of Bishops meet at Lambeth; and discovering that locusts and wild honey—­the Baptist’s diet—­may be purchased for something less than ten thousand a year,—­and, after a minute investigation of the Testament, failing to discover the name of St. Peter’s coachmaker, or of St. Paul’s footman, his valet, or his cook,—­take counsel one with another, and resolve to forego at least nine-tenths of their yearly in-comings.  “No!” they exclaim—­and what apostolic brightness beams in the countenance of CANTERBURY—­what celestial light plays about the fleshy head of LONDON—­what more than saint-like beauty surprises the cowslip-coloured face of EXETER—­what lambent fire, what looks of Christian love play about and beam from the whole episcopal Bench!—­“No!” they cry—­“we will no longer have the spirit oppressed by these cumbrous trappings of fleshy pride!  We will promote an universal Christian education—­we will teach charity by examples, and live unto all men by a personal abstinence from the bickerings and malice of civil life.  We will not defile the sacred lawn with the mud of turnpike acts—­we will no longer sweat in the House of Lords, but labour only in the House of the Lord!”

Their Christian hearts sweetly suffused with sudden meekness, the Bishops proceed—­staff in hand, and Bible under arm—­from Lambeth Palace.  How the people make way for the holy procession!  Hackney-coachmen on their stands uncover themselves, and the drayman, surprised in his whistle, doffs his beaver to the reverend pilgrims.  With measured step and slow, they proceed to Downing-street; the self-deputed Missionaries, resolved to give her Majesty’s ministers “a Christian education.”  Sir ROBERT PEEL is immediately taken in hand by the Bishop of EXETER; who sets the Baronet to learn and exemplify the practical beauties of the Lord’s Prayer.  When Sir ROBERT comes to “give us this day our daily bread,” he insists upon adding the words “with a sliding scale.”  However, EXETER, animated by a sudden flux of Christianity, keeps the baronet to his lesson, and the Premier is regenerated; yea, is “a brand snatched from the fire.”

Lord LYNDHURST makes a great many wry mouths at some parts of the Decalogue—­we will not particularise them—­but the Bishop of London is resolute, and the new Lord Chancellor is, in all respects a bran-new Christian.

Lord STANLEY begs that when he prays for power to forgive all his enemies, he may be permitted to except from that prayer—­DANIEL O’CONNELL.  The Bishop is, however, inexorable; and O’Connell is to be prayed for, in all churches visited by Lord STANLEY.