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Theory and practice do not always assimilate, or even dovetail together. The theory may be severely and logically correct, and yet be coutradicted to its august face by the actuality of which it professes to be the principle and the philosophy. An honest gentleman tourist, as the story goes, was once most illegally apprehended and put in the stocks by a village beadle, one fine Sunday morning, because he was loitering through the hamlet during service, and declined to satisfy the fussy dignitary with a full and particular account of himself. The penalty was discordant with the theory of Englishman's law, but never mind—there he was in effect, had by the leg, or legs, as unmistakeably and uncomfortably as the stout Earl of Kent himself. However, a passenger of rigid abstract ideas, curious to know what hath brought him to this pass, makes up to our captive friend, and, as a speculator in stocks, begs to be informed of the origin of this exhibition. The origin is indignantly explained. "But," with equal indignation remonstrates the critic, "but, my friend, they can't put you in the stocks for that!" "They have, though," rejoins the victim; "whether they can or no, you see the thing's done." "But, my good fellow," insists the other, "they can't do it; it's out of the question; nobody could put you in the stocks for that." "All very good," replies the half-amused captive, "but seeing's believing, you know; and here I am, whatever you may say or think of it." "Nonsense, nonsense," reiterates his excited visitor; "man alive! I tell you they can't do it—the thing's impossible—you can't be put in the stocks for that!" And so theory and practice went on jangling—the lofty logic of the idealist growing more and more peremptory in the teeth of facts.
Scores of parallel antinomies occur in every-day life. Among them is the ever-agitated question of the true dogmatic character of the Church of England. She is High Church beyond a doubt, says one goodly company; and overwhelming citations from her formularies, her confessors, her apologists, her scholars, her clara et venerabilia nomina from Ridley down to Denison, are tendered as evidence, and defy all cross-examination from the wiliest of counsel. She is Low Church without all controversy, shout crowds of the opposition benches; and they ply you with ponderous excerpts from the literature of their favourites, beginning with the Parker Society, and ending with the voluminous authorities of Bickersteth and Birks. The theory of each party is considered intangible, infallible, self-evident. Meanwhile the practical aspect of things favours neither party, and this by harbouring both. In effect, the Church is neither high nor low, but, as it has been said, broad. A. may tell B. he has no business within its pale; yet B. is all the while eating its bread, and, as he believes, preaching its doctrines, B. may assure A. that he does not belong to the Church, that he has no jot or tittle of belief in common with it, that he is not and cannot be in it; yet A. is
