How his people must have loved him! Many of the stories told of him are
of rather general application, but some of them ought to be true if they
are not.
One day in the old three-cornered market-place at Ramsey a little
maiden of seven crossed his path. She was like sunshine, rosy-cheeked,
bright-eyed, bare-footed and bare-headed, and for love of her sweetness
the grey old Bishop patted her head and blest her. "God bless you, my
child; God bless you," he said. The child curtseyed and answered, "God
bless you, too, sir." "Thank you, child, thank you," the Bishop said
again; "I dare say your blessing will be as good as mine."
It was customary in those days, and indeed down to my own time, when
a suit of clothes was wanted, to have the journeyman tailor at home to
make it. One, Danny of that ilk, was once at Bishop's Court making
a long walking coat for the Bishop. In trying it on in its nebulous
condition, that leprosy of open white seams and stitches, Danny made
numerous chalk marks to indicate the places of the buttons. "No, no,
Danny," said the Bishop, "no more buttons than enough to fasten it--only
one, that will do. It would ill become a poor priest like me to go
a-glitter with things like those." Now, Danny had already bought his
buttons, and had them at that moment in his pocket. So, pulling a
woful face, he said, "Mercy me, my lord, what would happen to the poor
button-makers, if everybody was of your opinion?" "Button it all over,
Danny," said the Bishop. A coat of Bishop Wilson's still exists. Would
that we had that one of the numerous buttons, and could get a few more
made of the same pattern! It would be out of fashion--Danny's progeny
have taken care of that. There are not many of us that it would fit--we
have few men of Bishop Wilson's build nowadays. But human kindliness is
never old-fashioned, and there are none of us that the garment of sweet
grace would not suit.