I managed to survive nearly eighteen volumes of The Bulwark or Reformation Journal. You know you're dealing with one seriously anti-Catholic publication when it twice accuses Charles Kingsley of being too nice to Catholics. Most of the journal's issues consist of anecdotes about the latest in Catholic malfeasance, accompanied by obsessive articles on the Maynooth Grant, Ritualism, reformatory schools, and, of course, convents. Oddly enough, there were surprisingly few essays that had anything to do with the Reformation--which was a tad annoying, since that's what I was looking for in the first place--but, as I mentioned in the previous post, there was certainly plenty of rotten poetry.
Incidentally, has anyone come up with a scientific name for the physical trauma brought on by several hours in rare book rooms? My back, ouch.
Back home tomorrow, then on a plane again next week for Dad the Historian of Graeco-Roman Egypt's retirement party. In the middle, I have to talk to a student about his MA thesis, sign off on my annual report, and finish an article.