could not but acknowledge there was nothing forward in either voice or manner.

'Punch' was not a paper my mother patronized; my own sense of humour was not cultivated, and my taste slightly severe; therefore, having returned my thanks, I gazed somewhat gravely on a group of young ladies in striped petticoats, playing croquet, with more display of ankle than I thought decorous. The live young lady opposite me, taking note of the subject, began again

'Ah, the croquet picture! Isn't it an institution?'

A hospital was an institution, so was a workhouse; but a game!slang.

More ideas of the impropriety of the whole proceeding crossed my brain; as a clergyman, should I awake the sleeper by asking her if she felt a draught?

absurd,

No; I was, though twenty-three still; so I merely said I did not play croquet.

'Not play croquet!' There was a world of meaning in the way the girl raised her eyebrows. I began a series of self-questioning as she reclined on the cushion and began to cut open the leaves of a yellow railway novel with her ticket. Ought I to play croquet? Did everybody play croquet?-even clergymen? The young lady asking the question could not be ignorant of my calling, my garb being eminently clerical. In spite of my convictions, I began to wish I could play croquet consistently; began to be sorry this girl had retired into the yellow novel, which, after all, might be worse for her than talking to me.

I even was meditating a remark, when a loud unmusical voice came from the far corner of the carriage. 'Lizzie!' it said.

Lizzie started, crossed over, took the trumpet, and called back, musically, 'Yes, aunt.'

'Are we near Marsden?' Marsden! it was the name of my curacy! 'Only a few miles off;' and then Lizzie undutifully laid down the trumpet, and crossed back again. 'She's so awfully deaf,' said the young lady.

VOL X.-NO. LV.

'What afflictions some are called on to bear!' I observed.

"That's like Sunday,' said Miss Lizzie, and then began to prepare for disembarkation. Crumbs were shaken out of her jacket, packages disinterred, with my grave and silent help (after the above irreverent remark), and a porter screamed out, 'Marsden!' I saw the ladies get into a yellow fly in waiting; I saw the keen grey eyes of the older woman fall on me as I stood patiently on the platform, till the fly was settled and despatched. Then I asked my way, and walked off to my lodgings. It was a dull little village of one street; but dullness in the way of duty was what I had expected. All the women at their doors and boys at play turned to inspect me; but I did not feel sufficiently at my ease to address a word to them.

My destination was a good-sized cottage, standing in a strip of garden, and a rather nice-looking old woman stood at the gate. She looked me over, as I came up, doubtless having an inward thanksgiving over my youth and innocence.

The last's here yet, sir,' she said, as we went in, 'but he's going tonight.'

The who?' I inquired, anxiously. 'The last curate, sir; we always has them, and we've had all sorts.'

Here she was obliged to pause, with the last' so near.

She opened a door and ushered me into a room which seemed to be luxuriously furnished.

My mother, though well-off, adhered to the torturous horsehair furniture of her mother, and 'saved.' Here were dark-seated velvet easychairs, a rich carpet, and divers little pretty articles that seemed to have been put in tastefully for a village landlady; but what offended the nose of my mother's son was the smell of tobacco.

I was about hastily to remonstrate with my landlady, when I saw a man sitting half in and half out of the window-smoking; a man in a short, loose-fitting coat, who, as soon as he saw us, took the half of himself that was out of the

G

apartment, and added it to the half that was in, and said

'Mr. Williams, I believe, vice Parker, resigned. -I'm Parker. Mrs. Spinx, I will see you presently.'

That lady, in a state of unwillingness, left us, and left me in a state of mild astonishment. I had a great respect for the cloth,' and this' mixture' shocked me.

'When one puts off one's shoes, one likes to see how they will fit another man,' said Mr. Parker; 'besides which, there is a trifle I wish to settle with you. Shall we do the business first, and smoke a pipe together afterwards?'

(I told Mr. Parker, as I had told Miss Lizzie about the croquetI never smoked.)

'And yet you exist!-excuse me; well, then, I'll smoke the two pipes afterwards. Mr. Williams, you observe this apartment?'

I assented (did he think I looked blind?)

Neat but not gaudy, eh?' pursued the last.'

I assented again.

'Glad you like it. Well, this room belongs to Mrs. Spinx; but the furniture at least one or two thingsbelongs to me.'

"The rooms were said to be furnished in the letters my mother received,' I gently remarked.

Probably. Mrs. Spinx said so, now, didn't she?'

She did would he, therefore, tell me which were Mrs. Spinx's things and which were his?

Mr. Parker looked very doubtful; went to a coal-pan and a small deal table with plants on it, and said, 'Mrs. Spinx; the one or two other things,' he concluded, ' are mine.'

'But,' I exclaimed, a man could not live in a room with nothing but a deal table and a coal-pan; where could he sit?'

'Very true,' said Mr. Parker. 'I believe, by-the-way, there was an article Mrs. Spinx called a chair when I came, but-' (Mr. Parker shrugged his shoulders) in the words of the poet, "it was harder than I could bear." Accordingly I did not pack the furniture, supposing you would wish to take it.'

I looked at the easy-chairs, and

sniffed just a little: it did seem hard that I should have Mr. Parker's tobacco-infected room imputed to

me.'

'Is it the baccy you don't like?a little camphor will soon take that out. You see, my good fellow, I'm off to-night to visit my lady-love, who disports on the moors at this time of the year, and I thought these chairs would be more in your way than in mine- they would be too much in mine! I'm no Jew; So suppose we say 30l., and have done with the subject.'

Of course I bought everything. And then while Mr. Parker smoked his two pipes, waiting for his train, he was in evidently good spirits and friendly towards me.

'You'll find this place beastly slow,' he said.

It did not seem unlikely that what would be Mr. Parker's poison would be my meat. He would not have survived life at my mother's. The word 'beastly' itself was, to say the least, eminently unclerical, so the remark did not depress me. I therefore made an inquiry about my vicar.

'The old humbug!' burst out the last curate.

I felt my blood curdle-all my old early-trained reverence engendered by Dr. Watts revolted against Mr. Parker.

'Hadn't we better change the subject,' I said, 'seeing that I am his curate?'

The ex-one, with his legs hanging over one of the easy-chairs, as much at his ease as if it were still his, and the purchase-money were not in his waistcoat-pocket, glanced at me, amused.

'The old man's luckier than he deserves to be, anyhow,' he said. 'You'll just suit him.'

I inquired if there were any wellto-do parishioners.

"There's Mrs. Bingham and her five lovely daughters (three of them are away just now)-she is piscatorially inclined.'

I felt horror-stricken. Fishes!a woman with a family!'

'You see,' pursued little Mr. Parker, 'you must not be shocked; she's not rich, though she lives in a

good house-her money dies with her.'

I felt relieved. Well, it may be praiseworthy though masculine. Is there good trout in the stream here?'

'Williams!' pursued the great man-'the name strikes me. I had a dear friend once of that name-he was a man who did his duty, and never shrank from work. Do you shrink from work?'

'My dear Mr. Williams, excuse me, but you're made for this place -positively made for it. Trout! no, very little; though to see Mrs. Bingham with her tackle all about her (a different fly for every fish) stand perseveringly day after day trying to catch one miserable soleI mean trout-it gives one a feeling of positive respect.'

It must,' I said warmly. I was glad to hear the ex-curate respected anything. I was afraid he didn't.. I really began to have a better opinion of him (though of course I could not approve his sentiments) as I shook hands with him on the platform that night.

The next morning as I sat looking over a pile of sermons I had constructed at intervals, my eye was caught by an object at my garden gate-an object of bulk and dignity -a clerical object, evidently the vicar.

How truly kind! my heart kindled. How I loathed the smell of that tobacco which surrounded me; how I blushed at the remembrance of that epithet which I had heard applied to this kindhearted man only the evening before.

The Rev. Dr. Walsh knocked like a bishop, and entered like an archbishop. He had (I say it now) a swelling manner. He seemed to fill all the chairs at once, so to speak, and drive me into Mrs. Spinx's coal-pan.

'Mr. Williams!' said my vicar, extending his hand.

The manner was benevolent-affectionate; it seemed to say, 'Fill the chairs, my dear curate-I, your vicar, will retire into nothing.'

I took his hand, and felt my heart Overflowing with love and duty. That eye, bright and intellectualthat broad brow

'Your first cure, I think?' continued my vicar. I assented.

mother's own heart-a man eager in the path of duty-eager to lead others therein.

I replied modestly, 'I hoped I was wishful to do my duty.'

'Ah! yes,' said my vicar, somewhat abstractedly. My dear Mr. Williams, the fact is I am in affliction. I am not one who presses his grief on others (that I should look upon as selfishness), but in this case you can help me.'

I replied I should be too happy. My vicar cleared his throat and went on.

'Blessed as I am, and thankful as I am for my many blessings, yet in one thing I am unfortunate. I have a dear family, but that family 'suffers. My wife is delicate; our eldest girl, a sweet child aged fourteen, is fragile in the extreme. My lot is cast in the country, and my family requires a frequent supply of that ozone which is only to be found in sea air. My dear wife has with our children been at Scarborough for a fortnight. Gladly would I stay here alone unrepiningly (we should not repine, Mr. Williams!), but what can I do when I hear daily that my beloved child asks for "Papa?" "Her wishes must be gratified," says our family doctor. I have been torn with doubts: is my duty here, or does it call me to my child?'

My vicar paused-and swelled!'

From my position by the coal-pan I could see the agitation of my superior's manner while alluding to his child, and flashing through my mind came the recollection of the man who had sat in the same chair only the evening before, and called him 'humbug!' I loathed the thought.

'Oh! go to your child at once, sir,' I said (the dear little girl might be pining for him at this very moment). I will endeavour, though unworthily, to fulfil your duties and

My vicar seemed to think I had

said enough. He did not stay long after this, but he pressed my hand at parting, and said, 'God bless you, Williams!'

My feelings were mixed when the interview was over. I sat down again to my pile of sermons, but failed to derive my usual satisfaction from these interesting works. I had lost the benefit of this man's teaching at the outset. I was very young, ardent, and enthusiastic, and -I was disappointed.

Sunday was the day but one after. On Saturday I had made the round of the village, shaking hands with mothers and kissing their offspring like a model young curate on the back of a penny tract. I could well understand a Parker considering the place slow. There were boys and pigs in abundance, a church in a state of dilapidation, and a modern vicarage near it with handsome iron gates. It was a commonplace village, devoid even of a permanent doctor, and yet overrun with children; but the state of the village has little to do with my story.

Sunday came. I rose early and nervous. My hands shook a little as I arranged my bands, looked twice to see that my sermon accompanied me, and did not recover from that Johnnyish feeling I was subject to till I stood in the reading-desk.

The congregation was small,painfully small to a zealous young curate, but just under the readingdesk was a pew containing three ladies. I could not help seeing them, or I should have preferred not to do so. One of them was not a stranger to me, she was my young fellow-traveller, the two others were tall, ordinary women. I caught a pair of blue-I mean my railway companion looked up, and if it had not been in church, would, I think, have smiled. The look seemed to sayOh! it's you again, is it?' Then for the rest of the church service (and it gave me inward satisfaction) she kept her eyes to her book. Shall I say that it warmed me a little to my work to see that pew of ladies, as I ascended the pulpit steps?

My mother thought my sermons would get me a bishopric, and

though not of that opinion myself, yet I still did think they had merits. This was my first sermon. My congregation was, without the occupants of the pew, limited to ten. I was in earnest, but-I was twentythree. I felt an inward glow as I thought I might prove to the girl, who had laughed at me the other day, that I was not devoid of eloquence. Perhaps that eloquence might make an impression on this frivolous and worldly-minded young person. I had chosen one of my best themes-one to which I had affixed the J. W.' lovingly, and as I gave it out, it answered my expectations on delivery.

There was one passage, alluding to the snares and flowery seductions of this world, which made me feel all aglow against such seductions, as I denounced them. But did I raise any such kindred feelings in my congregation? I ventured to glance round. The ten hearers, from any expression in their faces, were evidently uncalculated to know the meaning of the word 'seductions.' I looked down into the pew; two tall, plainly-attired ladies sat listening intently, their eyes raised, their hands folded; but the one whom the words were intended specially to benefit, reclined in a corner of the large pew-fast asleep. Oh, ephemeral muslins and laces, and wearer as ephemeral!

I felt my indignation rise. The day, it was true, was hot, but why could she not listen as well as her companions? Were my words more suited to the comprehension of the latter? My mother would have hoped so. As for myself, I took off my gown with far fewer feelings of satisfaction than when I put it on.

Passing up the churchyard, the three ladies were in front of me, and I heard a voice from under a most delicate parasol say—

'What a long sermon! I wish there weren't sermons in summer, only ventilators.'

Hush, Lizzie,' said one of the ladies, and do recollect it's Sunday.' Again my spirit sank at what I thought the frivolity of this girl. My mother desired nothing more earnestly than to witness the be