with one of the most delicate functions of the Crown, and he insisted that the true path of reform lay, not in the abolition of the form of election, but in an attempt to re-invest it with some elements of reality.  This was well enough, and eminently characteristic of his reverence for ancient forms of constitutional action; but what was more surprising was that, speaking from long and intimate experience of its practical working he maintained that the Conge d’Elire, even under the nullifying conditions now attached to it, was “a moral check upon the prerogatives of the Crown,” which worked well rather than ill.  “I am,” he said, “by no means prepared to say that, from partial information or error, a Minister might not make an appointment to which this moral obstacle might be set up with very beneficial effect.  It would tend to secure care in the selections, and its importance cannot be overstated.”

I must confess, with the greatest respect for my old leader, that the “importance” of the Conge d’Elire as a restraint upon the actions of the Prime Minister can be very easily “overstated.”  Indeed, the Conge could only be important if the Capitular Body to which the “Letter Missive” is addressed have the courage of conscientious disobedience, and were prepared to face, for the sake of imperilled truth, the anger of the powers that be and the laughter of the world.  Courage of that type is a plant of slow growth in Established Churches; and as long as my friends hug the yoke of Establishment, I cannot sympathize with them when they cry out against its galling pressure.  To complainants of that class the final word was addressed by Gladstone, nearly seventy years ago:  “You have our decision:  take your own; choose between the mess of pottage and the birthright of the Bride of Christ.”

IV

POLITICS

I

MIRAGE

“Operations had to be temporarily suspended owing to the mirage.”  This sentence from one of Sir Stanley Maude’s despatches struck me as parabolic.  There are other, and vaster, issues than a strategic victory on the Diala River which have been “suspended owing to the mirage.”  Let us apply the parable.

The parched caravan sees, half a mile ahead, the gleaming lake which is to quench its thirst.  It toils along over the intervening distance, only to find that Nature has been playing a trick.  The vision has vanished, and what seemed to be water is really sand.  There can be no more expressive image of disillusionment.