An inquiry was set on foot, and after diligent investigation they came upon his traces. In one part of the road leading to the church was found the saddle trampled in the dirt; the tracks of horses hoofs deeply dented in the road, and evidently at furious speed, were traced to the bridge, beyond which, on the bank of a broad part of the brook, where the water ran deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside it a shattered pumpkin. The brook was searched, but the body of the schoolmaster was not to be discovered. Hans Van Ripper as executor of his estate, examined the bundle which contained all his worldly effects. They consisted of two shirts and a half; two stocks for the neck; a pair or two of worsted stockings; an old pair of corduroy smallclothes; a rusty razor; a book of psalm tunes full of dogsears; and a broken pitchpipe. As to the books and furniture of the schoolhouse, they belonged to the community, excepting Cotton Mathers History of Witchcraft, a New England Almanac, and a book of dreams and fortunetelling; in which last was a sheet of foolscap much scribbled and blotted in several fruitless attempts to make a copy of verses in honor of the heiress of Van Tassel. These magic books and the poetic scrawl were forthwith consigned to the flames by Hans Van Ripper; who, from that time forward, determined to send his children no more to school, observing that he never knew any good come of this same reading and writing. Whatever money the schoolmaster possessed, and he had received his quarters pay but a day or two before, he must have had about his person at the time of his disappearance. The mysterious event caused much speculation at the church on the following Sunday. Knots of gazers and gossips were collected in the churchyard, at the bridge, and at the spot where the hat and pumpkin had been found. The stories of Brouwer, of Bones, and a whole budget of others were called to mind; and when they had diligently considered them all, and compared them with the symptoms of the present case, they shook their heads, and came to the conclusion that Ichabod had been carried off by the Galloping Hessian. As he was a bachelor, and in nobodys debt, nobody troubled his head any more about him; the school was removed to a different quarter of the hollow, and another pedagogue reigned in his stead. It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to New York on a visit several years after, and from whom this account of the ghostly adventure was received, brought home the intelligence that Ichabod Crane was still alive; that he had left the neighborhood partly through fear of the goblin and Hans Van Ripper, and partly in mortification at having been suddenly dismissed by the heiress; that he had changed his quarters to a distant part of the country; had kept school and studied law at the same time; had been admitted to the bar; turned politician; electioneered; written for the newspapers; and finally had been made a justice of the Ten Pound Court. Brom Bones, too, who, shortly after his rivals disappearance conducted the blooming Katrina in triumph to the altar, was observed to look exceedingly knowing whenever the story of Ichabod was related, and always burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the pumpkin; which led some to suspect that he knew more about the matter than he chose to tell. The old country wives, however, who are the best judges of these matters, maintain to this day that Ichabod was spirited away by supernatural means; and it is a favorite story often told about the neighborhood round the winter evening fire. The bridge became more than ever an object of superstitious awe; and that may be the reason why the road has been altered of late years, so as to approach the church by the border of the millpond. The schoolhouse being deserted soon fell to decay, and was reported to be haunted by the ghost of the unfortunate pedagogue and the plowboy, loitering homeward of a still summer evening, has often fancied his voice at a distance, chanting a melancholy psalm tune among the tranquil solitudes of Sleepy Hollow. POSTSCRIPT. FOUND IN THE HANDWRITING OF MR. KNICKERBOCKER. The preceding tale is given almost in the precise words in which I heard it related at a Corporation meeting at the ancient city of Manhattoes, at which were present many of its sagest and most illustrious burghers. The narrator was a pleasant, shabby, gentlemanly old fellow, in pepperandsalt clothes, with a sadly humourous face, and one whom I strongly suspected of being poorhe made such efforts to be entertaining. When his story was concluded, there was much laughter and approbation, particularly from two or three deputy aldermen, who had been asleep the greater part of the time. There was, however, one tall, drylooking old gentleman, with beetling eyebrows, who maintained a grave and rather severe face throughout, now and then folding his arms, inclining his head, and looking down upon the floor, as if turning a doubt over in his mind. He was one of your wary men, who never laugh but upon good groundswhen they have reason and law on their side. When the mirth of the rest of the company had subsided, and silence was restored, he leaned one arm on the elbow of his chair, and sticking the other akimbo, demanded, with a slight, but exceedingly sage motion of the head, and contraction of the brow, what was the moral of the story, and what it went to prove? The storyteller, who was just putting a glass of wine to his lips, as a refreshment after his toils, paused for a moment, looked at his inquirer with an air of infinite deference, and, lowering the glass slowly to the table, observed that the story was intended most logically to prove That there is no situation in life but has its advantages and pleasuresprovided we will but take a joke as we find it That, therefore, he that runs races with goblin troopers is likely to have rough riding of it. Ergo, for a country schoolmaster to be refused the hand of a Dutch heiress is a certain step to high preferment in the state. The cautious old gentleman knit his brows tenfold closer after this explanation, being sorely puzzled by the ratiocination of the syllogism, while, methought, the one in pepperandsalt eyed him with something of a triumphant leer. At length he observed that all this was very well, but still he thought the story a little on the extravagantthere were one or two points on which he had his doubts. Faith, sir, replied the storyteller, as to that matter, I dont believe onehalf of it myself. D. K. THE END.  END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW  Updated editions will replace the previous onethe old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG concept and trademark. 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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Salem Chapel, v. 12 This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or reuse it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title Salem Chapel, v. 12 Author Mrs. Oliphant Release date February 4, 2013 [eBook 42013] Most recently updated October 23, 2024 Language English Credits Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at httpwww.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images available at The Internet Archive)  START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SALEM CHAPEL, V. 12  COLLECTION OF BRITISH AUTHORS TAUCHNITZ EDITION. VOL. 1091. SALEM CHAPEL BY MRS. OLIPHANT. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. TAUCHNITZ EDITION. By the same Author, THE LAST OF THE MORTIMERS2 vols. MARGARET MAITLAND1 vol. AGNES2 vols. MADONNA MARY2 vols. THE MINISTERS WIFE2 vols. THE RECTOR AND THE DOCTORS FAMILY1 vol. Chronicles of Carlingford  SALEM CHAPEL BY MRS. OLIPHANT. COPYRIGHT EDITION. I N T W O V O L U M E S. VOL. I. LEIPZIG BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ 1870. The Right of Translation is reserved. SALEM CHAPEL. CHAPTER I., II., III., IV., V., VI., VII., VIII., IX., X., XI., XII., XIII., XIV., XV., XVI., XVII., XVIII., XIX., XX. CHAPTER I. TOWARDS the west end of Grove Street, in Carlingford, on the shabby side of the street, stood a red brick building, presenting a pinched gable terminated by a curious little belfry, not intended for any bell, and looking not unlike a handle to lift up the edifice by to the public observation. This was Salem Chapel, the only Dissenting place of worship in Carlingford. It stood in a narrow strip of ground, just as the little houses which flanked it on either side stood in their gardens, except that the enclosure of the chapel was flowerless and sombre, and showed at the farther end a few sparselyscattered tombstonesunmeaning slabs, such as the English mourner loves to inscribe his sorrow on. On either side of this little tabernacle were the humble houseslittle detached boxes, each two storeys high, each fronted by a little flowerplotclean, respectable, meagre, little habitations, which contributed most largely to the ranks of the congregation in the Chapel. The big houses opposite, which turned their backs and staircase windows to the street, took little notice of the humble Dissenting community. Twice in the winter, perhaps, the Miss Hemmings, mild evangelical women, on whom the late rectorthe LowChurch rector, who reigned before the brief and exceptional incumbency of the Rev. Mr. Proctorhad bestowed much of his confidence, would cross the street, when other profitable occupations failed them, to hear a special sermon on a Sunday evening. But the Miss Hemmings were the only representatives of anything which could, by the utmost stretch, be called Society, who ever patronised the Dissenting interest in the town of Carlingford. Nobody from Grange Lane had ever been seen so much as in Grove Street on a Sunday, far less in the chapel. Greengrocers, dealers in cheese and bacon, milkmen, with some dressmakers of inferior pretensions, and teachers of dayschools of similar humble character, formed the lite of the congregation. It is not to be supposed, however, on this account, that a prevailing aspect of shabbiness was upon this little community; on the contrary, the grim pews of Salem Chapel blushed with bright colours, and contained both dresses and faces on the summer Sundays which the Church itself could scarcely have surpassed. Nor did those unadorned walls form a centre of asceticism and gloomy religiousness in the cheerful little town. Teameetings were not uncommon occurrences in Salemteameetings which made the little tabernacle festive, in which cakes and oranges were diffused among the pews, and funny speeches made from the little platform underneath the pulpit, which woke the unconsecrated echoes with hearty outbreaks of laughter. Then the young people had their singingclass, at which they practised hymns, and did not despise a little flirtation; and charitable societies and missionary auxiliaries diversified the congregational routine, and kept up a brisk succession of Chapel business, mightily like the Church business which occupied Mr. Wentworth and his Sisters of Mercy at St. Roques. To name the two communities, however, in the same breath, would have been accounted little short of sacrilege in Carlingford. The names which figured highest in the benevolent lists of Salem Chapel, were known to society only as appearing, in gold letters, upon the backs of those mystic tradesmens books, which were deposited every Monday in little heaps at every house in Grange Lane. The Dissenters, on their part, aspired to no conquests in the unattainable territory of high life, as it existed in Carlingford. They were content to keep their privileges among themselves, and to enjoy their superior preaching and purity with a compassionate complacence. While Mr. Proctor was rector, indeed, Mr. Tozer, the butterman, who was senior deacon, found it difficult to refrain from an audible expression of pity for the Church folks who knew no better; but, as a general rule, the congregation of Salem kept by itself, gleaning new adherents by times at an anniversary or the coming of a new minister, but knowing and keeping its own place in a manner edifying to behold. Such was the state of affairs when old Mr. Tufton declined in popularity, and impressed upon the minds of his hearers those nowestablished principles about the unfitness of old men for any important post, and the urgent necessity and duty incumbent upon old clergymen, old generals, old admirals, c.every aged functionary, indeed, except old statesmento resign in favour of younger men, which have been, within recent years, so much enforced upon the world. To communicate this opinion to the old minister was perhaps less difficult to Mr. Tozer and his brethren than it might have been to men more refined and less practical; but it was an undeniable relief to the managers of the chapel when grim Paralysis came mildly in and gave the intimation in the manner least calculated to wound the sufferers feelings. Mild but distinct was that undeniable warning. The poor old minister retired, accordingly, with a purse and a presentation, and young Arthur Vincent, fresh from Homerton, in the bloom of hope and intellectualism, a young man of the newest school, was recognised as pastor in his stead. A greater change could not possibly have happened. When the interesting figure of the young minister went up the homely pulpitstairs, and appeared, whitebrowed, whitehanded, in snowy linen and glossy clerical apparel, where old Mr. Tufton, spiritual but homely, had been wont to impend over the desk and exhort his beloved brethren, it was natural that a slight rustle of expectation should run audibly through the audience. Mr. Tozer looked round him proudly to note the sensation, and see if the Miss Hemmings, sole representatives of a cold and unfeeling aristocracy, were there. The fact was, that few of the auditors were more impressed than the Miss Hemmings, who were there, and who talked all the evening after about the young minister. What a sermon it was! not much in it about the beloved brethren; nothing very stimulating, indeed, to the sentiments and affections, except in the youth and good looks of the preacher, which naturally made a more distinct impression upon the female portion of his hearers than on the stronger sex. But then what eloquence! what an amount of thought! what an honest entrance into all the difficulties of the subject! Mr. Tozer remarked afterwards that such preaching was food for men. It was too closely reasoned out, said the excellent butterman, to please women or weakminded persons but he did not doubt, for his part, that soon the young men of Carlingford, the hope of the country, would find their way to Salem. Under such prognostications, it was fortunate that the young minister possessed something else besides close reasoning and Homerton eloquence to propitiate the women too. Mr. Vincent arrived at Carlingford in the beginning of winter, when society in that town was reassembling, or at least reappearing, after the temporary summer seclusion. The young man knew very little of the community which he had assumed the spiritual charge of. He was almost as particular as the Rev. Mr. Wentworth of St. Roques about the cut of his coat and the precision of his costume, and decidedly preferred the word clergyman to the word minister, which latter was universally used by his flock; but notwithstanding these trifling predilections, Mr. Vincent, who had been brought up upon the Nonconformist and the Eclectic Review, was strongly impressed with the idea that the Church Establishment, though outwardly prosperous, was in reality a profoundly rotten institution; that the Nonconforming portion of the English public was the party of progress; that the eyes of the world were turned upon the Dissenting interest; and that his own youthful eloquence and the Voluntary principle were quite enough to counterbalance all the ecclesiastical advantages on the other side, and make for himself a position of the highest influence in his new sphere. As he walked about Carlingford making acquaintance with the place, it occurred to the young man, with a thrill of not ungenerous ambition, that the time might shortly come when Salem Chapel would be all too insignificant for the Nonconformists of this hitherto torpid place. He pictured to himself how, byandby, those jealous doors in Grange Lane would fly open at his touch, and how the dormant minds within would awake under his influence. It was a blissful dream to the young pastor. Even the fact that Mr. Tozer was a butterman, and the other managers of the chapel equally humble in their pretensions, did not disconcert him in that flush of early confidence. All he wantedall any man worthy of his post wantedwas a spot of standingground, and an opportunity of making the Truthand himselfknown. Such, at least, was the teaching of Homerton and the Dissenting organs. Young Vincent, well educated and enlightened according to his fashion, was yet so entirely unacquainted with any world but that contracted one in which he had been brought up, that he believed all this as devoutly as Mr. Wentworth believed in Anglicanism, and would have smiled with calm scorn at any sceptic who ventured to doubt. Thus it will be seen he came to Carlingford with elevated expectationsby no means prepared to circulate among his flock, and say grace at Mrs. Tozers teas, and get up soirees to amuse the congregation, as Mr. Tufton had been accustomed to do. These secondary circumstances of his charge had little share in the new ministers thoughts. Somehow the tone of public writing has changed of late days. Scarcely a newspaper writer condescends now to address men who are not free of society, and learned in all its ways. The Times and the Magazines take it for granted that all their readers dine out at splendid tables, and are used to a solemn attendant behind their chair. Young Vincent was one of those who accept the flattering implication. It is true, he saw few enough of such celestial scenes in his collegedays. But now that life was opening upon him, he doubted nothing of the society that must follow; and with a swell of gratification listened when the advantages of Carlingford were discussed by some chance fellowtravellers on the railway; its pleasant partiesits nice peopleMr. Wodehouses capital dinners, and the charming breakfastssuch a delightful novelty!so easy and agreeable!of the pretty Lady Western, the young dowager. In imagination Mr. Vincent saw himself admitted to all these social pleasures; not that he cared for capital dinners more than became a young man, or had any special tendencies towards tufthunting, but because fancy and hope, and ignorance of the real world, made him naturally project himself into the highest sphere within his reach, in the simple conviction that such was his natural place. With these thoughts, to be asked to Mrs. Tozers to tea at six oclock, was the most wonderful cold plunge for the young man. He shrugged his shoulders, smiled to himself over the note of invitation, which, however, was very prettily written by Phbe, Mrs. Tozers blooming daughter, on paper as pink as Lady Westerns, and consented, as he could not help himself. He went out from his nice lodgings a little after six, still smiling, and persuading himself that this would be quite a pleasant study of manners, and that of course he could not do less than patronise the good homely people in their own way, whatever that might be. Mr. Vincents rooms were in George Street, at what the Grange Lane people called the other end, in an imposing house with a large door, and iron extinguishers fixed in the railing, which had in their day quenched the links of the last century. To cross the street in his evening coat, and walk into the buttershop, where the two whiteaproned lads behind the counter stared, and a humble member of the congregation turned sharply round, and held out the hand, which had just clutched a piece of bacon, for her minister to shake, was a sufficiently trying introduction to the evenings pleasure; but when the young pastor had been ushered upstairs, the first aspect of the company there rather took away his breath, as he emerged from the dark staircase. Tozer himself, who awaited the minister at the door, was fully habited in the overwhelming black suit and white tie, which produced so solemnising an effect every Sunday at chapel; and the other men of the party were, with a few varieties, similarly attired. But the brilliancy of the female portion of the company overpowered Mr. Vincent. Mrs. Tozer herself sat at the end of her hospitable table, with all her best china teaservice set out before her, in a gown and cap which Grange Lane could not have furnished any rivals to. The brilliant hue of the one, and the flowers and feathers of the other, would require a more elaborate description than this chronicle has space for. Nor indeed in the particular of dress did Mrs. Tozer do more than hold her own among the guests who surrounded her. It was scarcely dark, and the twilight softened down the splendours of the company, and saved the dazzled eyes of the young pastor. He felt the grandeur vaguely as he came in with a sense of reproof, seeing that he had evidently been waited for. He said grace devoutly when the tea arrived and the gas was lighted, and with dumb amaze gazed round him. Could these be the veritable womankind of Salem Chapel? Mr. Vincent saw bare shoulders and flowerwreathed heads bending over the laden teatable. He saw pretty faces and figures not inelegant, remarkable among which was Miss Phbes, who had written him that pink note, and who herself was pink all overdress, shoulders, elbows, cheeks, and all. Pinknot reda softened youthful flush, which was by no means unbecoming to the plump full figure which had not an angle anywhere. As for the men, the lawful owners of all this feminine display, they huddled all together, indisputable cheesemongers as they were, quite transcended and extinguished by their wives and daughters. The pastor was young and totally inexperienced. In his heart he asserted his own claim to an entirely different sphere; but, suddenly cast into this little crowd, Mr. Vincents inclination was to join the dark group of husbands and fathers whom he knew, and who made no false pretences. He was shy of venturing upon those fine women, who surely never could be Mrs. Brown of the Devonshire Dairy, and Mrs. Pigeon, the poulterers wife; whereas Pigeon and Brown themselves were exactly like what they always were on Sundays, if not perhaps a trifle graver and more depressed in their minds. Heres a nice place for you, Mr. Vincentquite the place for you, where you can hear all the music, and see all the young ladies. For I do suppose ministers, bein young, are like other young men, said Mrs. Tozer, drawing aside her brilliant skirts to make room for him on the sofa. I have a son myself as is at college, and feel motherlike to those as go in the same line. Sit you down comfortable, Mr. Vincent. There aint one here, sir, Im proud to say, as grudges you the best seat. Oh, mamma, how could you think of saying such a thing! said Phbe, under her breath; to be sure, Mr. Vincent never could think there was anybody anywhere that would be so wickedand he the minister. Indeed, my dear, said Mrs. Pigeon, who was close by, not to affront Mr. Vincent, as is deserving of our best respects, Ive seen many and manys the minister I wouldnt have given up my seat to; and I dont misdoubt, sir, youve heard of such as well as we. There was Mr. Bailey at Parsons Green, now. He went and married a poor bit of a governess, as common a looking creature as you could see, that set herself up above the people, Mr. Vincent, and was too grand, sir, if youll believe me, to visit the deacons wives. Nobody cares less than me about them vain shows. Whats visiting, if you know the vally of your time? Nothing but a laying up of judgment. But I wouldnt be put upon neither by a chit that got her bread out of me and my husbands hard earnins; and so I told my sister, Mrs. Tozer, as lives at Parsons Green. Poor thing! said the gentler Mrs. Tozer, its hard lines on a ministers wife to please the congregation. Mr. Vincent here, hell have to take a lesson. That Mrs. Bailey was prettylooking, I must allow Sweetly pretty! whispered Phbe, clasping her plump pink hands. Prettylooking! I dont say anything against it, continued her mother; but its hard upon a minister when his wife wont take no pains to please his flock. To have people turn up their noses at you aint pleasant And them getting their livin off you all the time, cried Mrs. Pigeon, clinching the milder speech. But it seems to me, said poor Vincent, that a minister can no more be said to get his living off you than any other man. He works hard enough generally for what little he has. And really, Mrs. Tozer, Id rather not hear all these unfortunate particulars about one of my brethren He aint one of the brethren now, broke in the poulterers wife. Hes been gone out o Parsons Green this twelvemonths. Them stuckup ways may do with the Church folks as cant help themselves, but theyll never do with us Dissenters. Not that we aint as glad as can be to see you, Mr. Vincent, and I hope youll favour my poor house another night like youre favouring Mrs. Tozers. Mr. Tufton always said that was the beauty of Carlingford in our connection. Cheerful folks and no display. No display, you knownothing but a hearty meetin, sorry to part, and happy to meet again. Thems our ways. And the better you know us, the better youll like us, Ill be bound to say. We dont put it all on the surface, Mr. Vincent, continued Mrs. Pigeon, shaking out her skirts and expanding herself on her chair, but its all real and solid; what we say we meanand we dont say no more than we meanand thems the kind of folks to trust to wherever you go. Poor Vincent made answer by an inarticulate murmur, whether of assent or dissent it was impossible to say; and, inwardly appalled, turned his eyes towards his deacons, who, more fortunate than himself, were standing all in a group together discussing chapel matters, and wisely leaving general conversation to the fairer portion of the company. The unlucky ministers secret looks of distress awoke the interest and sympathy of Phbe, who sat in an interesting manner on a stool at her mothers side. Oh, mamma, said that young lady, too bashful to address himself directly, I wonder if Mr. Vincent plays or sings? There are some such nice singers here. Perhaps we might have some music, if Mr. Vincent I dont perform at all, said that victim,not in any way; but I am an exemplary listener. Let me take you to the piano. The plump Phbe rose after many hesitations, and, with a simper and a blush and pretty air of fright, took the ministers arm. After all, even when the whole company is beneath a mans level, it is easier to play the victim under the supplice inflicted by a pretty girl than by two mature matrons. Phbe understood pretty well about her hs, and did not use the double negative; and when she rose up rustling from her low seat, the round, pink creature, with dimples all about her, was not an unpleasant object of contemplation. Mr. Vincent listened to her song with decorous interest. Perhaps it was just as well sung as Lucy Wodehouse, in Grange Lane, would have sung it. When Phbe had concluded, the minister was called to the side of Mrs. Brown of the Devonshire Dairy, who had been fidgeting to secure him from the moment he approached the piano. She was fat and roundabout, good woman, and had the aspect of sitting upon the very edge of her chair. She held out to the distressed pastor a hand covered with a rumpled white glove, which did not fit, and had never been intended to fit, and beckoned to him anxiously. With the calmness of despair Mr. Vincent obeyed the call. I have been looking so anxious to catch your eye, Mr. Vincent, said Mrs. Brown; do sit you down, now theres a chance, and let me talk to you a minnit. Bless the girl! theres Miss Polly Pigeon going to play, and everybody can use their freedom in talking. For my part, said Mrs. Brown, securing the vacant chair of the performer for her captive, thats why I like instrumental music best. When a girl sings, why, to be sure, its only civil to listenaint it now, Mr. Vincent? but nobody expects it of you, dont you see, when she only plays. Now do you sit down. What I wanted to speak to you was about that poor creetur in Back Grove Streetthats the lane right behind the chapel. She do maunder on so to see the minister. Mr. Tozer hes been to see her, and I sent Brown, but it wasnt a bit of use. Its you, Mr. Vincent, shes awanting of. If youll call in tomorrow, Ill show you the place myself, as youre a stranger; for if youll excuse me saying it, I am as curious as can be to hear what shes got to say. If she has got anything to say, she might prefer that it was not heard, said Vincent, with an attempt at a smile. Is she illand who is she? I have never heard of her before. Well, you see, sir, she doesnt belong rightly to Salem. Shes a stranger here, and not a joined member; and she aint ill either, as I can seeonly something on her mind. You ministers, said Mrs. Brown, with a look of awe, must have a deal of secrets confided to you. Folks may stand out against religion as long as things go on straight with them, but theyre sure to want the minister as soon as theyve got something on their mind; and a deal better to have it out, and get a little comfort, than to bottle it all up till their latter end, like old Mrs. Thompson, and let it out in their will, to drive them as was expecting different distracted. Its a year or two since that happened. I dont suppose youve heerd tell of it yet. But thats what makes old Mrs. ChristianI dare to say youve seen her at chapelso uncomfortable in her feelins. Shes never got over it, sir, and never will to her dying day. Some disappointment about money? said Mr. Vincent. Poor old folks! their daughter did very well for herselfand very well for them too, said Mrs. Brown; but it dont make no difference in Mrs. Christians feelins theyre living, like, on Mr. Brown the solicitors charity, you see, sir, instead of their own fortin, which makes a deal o difference. It would have been a fine thing for Salem too, added Mrs. Brown, reflectively, if they had had the old ladys money; for Mrs. Christian was always one that liked to be first, and stanch to her chapel, and would never have been wanting when the collectingbooks went round. But it wasnt to be, Mr. Vincentthats the short and the long of it; and we never have had nobody in our connection worth speaking of in Carlingford buts been in trade. And a very good thing too, as I tell Brown. For if theres one thing I cant abear in a chapel, its one set setting up above the rest. But bein all in the way of business, except just the poor folks, as is all very well in their place, and never interferes with nothing, and dont count, theres nothing but brotherly love here, which is a deal more than most ministers can say for their flocks. Ive asked a few friends to tea, Mr. Vincent, on next Thursday, at six. As I havent got no daughters just out of a boardingschool to write notes for me, will you take us in a friendly way, and just come without another invitation? All our own folks, sir, and a comfortable evening; and prayers, if youll be so good, at the end. I dont like the new fashion, said Mrs. Brown, with a significant glance towards Mrs. Tozer, of separatin like heathens, when alls of one connection. We might never meet again, Mr. Vincent. In the midst of life, you know, sir. Youll not forget Thursday, at six. But, my dear Mrs. Brown, I am very sorry Thursday is one of the days I have specially devoted to study, stammered forth the unhappy pastor. What with the Wednesday meeting and the Friday committee Mrs. Brown drew herself up as well as the peculiarities of her form permitted, and her roseate countenance assumed a deeper glow. Weve been in the chapel longer than Tozer, said the offended deaconess. Weve never been backward, in takin trouble, nor spendin our substance, nor puttin our hands to every good work; and as for makin a difference between one member and another, its what we aint been accustomed to, Mr. Vincent. Im a plain woman, and speak my mind. Old Mr. Tufton was very particular to show no preference. He always said, it never answered in a flock to show more friendship to one nor another; and if it had been put to me, I wouldnt have said, I assure you, sir, that it was us as was to be made the first example of. If I havent a daughter fresh out of a boardingschool, Ive been a member of Salem fiveandtwenty year, and had ministers in my house manys the day, and as friendly as if I were a duchess; and for charities and such things, weve never been known to fail, though I say it; and as for trouble But I spoke of my study, said the poor minister, as she paused, her indignation growing too eloquent for words you want me to preach on Sunday, dont you? and I must have some time, you know, to do my work. Sir, said Mrs. Brown, severely, I know it for a fact that Mr. Wentworth of St. Roques dines out five days in the week, and it dont do his sermons no injury; and when you go out to dinner, it stands to reason its a different thing from a friendly tea. Ah, yes, most likely! said Mr. Vincent, with a heavy sigh. Ill come, since you wish it so much; but, added the unlucky young man, with a melancholy attempt at a smile, you must not be too kind to me. Too much of this kind of thing, you know, might have an effect Here he paused, inclined to laugh at his own powers of sarcasm. As chance would have it, as he pointed generally to the scene before them, the little wave of his hand seemed to Mrs. Brown to indicate the group round the piano, foremost in which was Phbe, plump and pink, and full of dimples. The good mistress of the Devonshire Dairy gave her head a little toss. Ah! said Mrs. Brown, with a sigh, you dont know, you young men, the half of the tricks of them girls that look so innocent. But I dont deny its a pleasant party, added the deaconess, looking round on the company in general with some complacency. But just you come along our way on Thursday, at six, and judge for yourself if mine aint quite as good; though I have not got no daughters, Mr. Vincent, she concluded, with severe irony, elevating her double chin and nodding her flowery head. The subdued minister made no reply; only deeper and deeper humiliation seemed in store for him. Was it he, the first prizeman of Homerton, who was supposed to be already smitten by the pink charms of Phbe Tozer? The unfortunate young man groaned in spirit, and, seizing a sudden opportunity, plunged into the black group of deacons, and tried to immerse himself in chapel business. But vain was the attempt. He was recaptured and led back in triumph to Mrs. Tozers sofa. He had to listen to more singing, and accept another invitation to tea. When he got off at last, it was with a sensation of dreadful dwindlement that poor Vincent crossed the street again to his lonely abode. He knocked quite humbly at the big door, and, with a sensation of unclerical rage, wondered to himself whether the policeman who met him knew he had been out to tea. Ah, blessed Mr. Wentworth of St. Roques! The young Nonconformist sighed as he put on his slippers, and kicked his boots into a corner of his sittingroom. Somehow he had come down in the world all at once, and without expecting it. Such was Salem Chapel and its requirements and such was Mr. Vincents first experience of social life in Carlingford. CHAPTER II. IT was with a somewhat clouded aspect that the young pastor rose from his solitary breakfasttable next morning to devote himself to the needful work of visiting his flock. The ministers breakfast, though lonely, had not been without alleviations. He had the Carlingford Gazette at his elbow, if that was any comfort, and he had two letters which were more interesting; one was from his mother, a ministers widow, humbly enough off, but who had brought up her son in painful gentility, and had done much to give him that taste for good society which was to come to so little fruition in Carlingford. Mr. Vincent smiled sardonically as he read his good mothers questions about his dear people, and her anxious inquiry whether he had found a pleasant circle in Salem. Remembering the dainty little household which it took her so much pains and pinching to maintain, the contrast made present affairs still more and more distasteful to her son. He could fancy her trim little figure in that traditionary black silk gown which never wore out, and the whitest of caps, gazing aghast at Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Tozer. But, nevertheless, Mrs. Vincent understood all about Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Tozer, and had been very civil to such, and found them very serviceable in her day, though her son, who knew her only in that widowed cottage where she had her own way, could not have realised it. The other letter was from a Homerton chum, a young intellectual and ambitious Nonconformist like himself, whose epistle was full of confidence and hope, triumph in the cause, and its perpetual advance. We are the priests of the poor, said the Homerton enthusiast, encouraging his friend to the sacrifices and struggles which he presumed to be already surrounding him. Mr. Vincent bundled up this letter with a sigh. Alas! there were no grand struggles or sacrifices in Carlingford. The poor were mostly churchgoers, as he had already discovered. It was a tolerably comfortable class of the community, that dreadful connection of Browns, Pigeons, and Tozers. Amid their rude luxuries and commonplace plenty, life could have no heroic circumstances. The young man sighed, and did not feel so sure as he once did of the grand generalities in which his friend was still confident. If Dissenters led the van of progress generally, there was certainly an exception to be made in respect to Carlingford. And the previous evenings entertainment had depressed the young ministers expectations even of what he himself could doa sad blow to a young man. He was less convinced that opportunity of utterance was all that was necessary to give him influence in the general community. He was not half so sure of success in opening the closed doors and sealed hearts of Grange Lane.


On the whole, matters looked somewhat discouraging that particular morning, which was a morning in October, not otherwise depressing or disagreeable. He took his hat and went downstairs with a kind of despairing determination to do his duty. There an encounter occurred which did not raise his spirits. The door was open, and his landlady, who was a member of Salem Chapel, stood there in full relief against the daylight outside, taking from the hands of Miss Phbe Tozer a little basket, the destination of which she was volubly indicating. Mr. Vincent appearing before Phbe had half concluded her speech, that young lady grew blushingly embarrassed, and made haste to relinquish her hold of the basket. Her conscious looks filled the unwitting minister with ignorant amaze. Oh, to think Mr. Vincent should catch me here! What ever will he think? and what ever will Ma say? cried Miss Phbe. Oh, Mr. Vincent, Ma thought, please, you might perhaps like some jelly, and I said I would run over with it myself, as its so near, and the servant might have made a mistake, and Ma hopes youll enjoy it, and that you liked the party last night! Mrs. Tozer is very kind, said the minister, with cloudy looks. Some what, did you say, Miss Phbe? La! only some jellynothing worth mentioningonly a shape that was over supper last night, and Ma thought you wouldnt mind, cried the messenger, half alarmed by the unusual reception of her offering. Mr. Vincent turned very red, and looked at the basket as if he would like nothing better than to pitch it into the street; but prudence for once restrained the young man. He bit his lips, and bowed, and went upon his way, without waiting, as she intended he should, to escort Miss Phbe back again to her paternal shop. Carrying his head higher than usual, and thrilling with offence and indignation, the young pastor made his way along George Street. It was a very trifling circumstance, certainly; but just when an enthusiastic companion writes to you about the advance of the glorious cause, and your own high vocation as a soldier of the Cross, and the undoubted fact that the hope of England is in you, to have a shape of jelly, left over from last nights teaparty, sent across the street with complacent kindness, for your refreshment! It was trying. To old Mrs. Tufton, indeed, who had an invalid daughter, it might have seemed a Christian bounty; but to Arthur Vincent, fiveandtwenty, a scholar and a gentlemanah me! If he had been a Christchurch man, or even a Fellow of Trinity, the chances are he would have taken it much more graciously; for then he would have had the internal consciousness of his own dignity to support him; whereas the sting of it all was, that poor young Vincent had no special right to his own pretensions, but had come to them he could not tell how; and, in reality, had his mind been on a level with his fortunes, ought to have found the Tozers and Pigeons sufficiently congenial company. He went along George Street with troubled haste, pondering his sorrowsthose sorrows which he could confide to nobody. Was he actually to live among these people for yearsto have no other societyto circulate among their teaparties, and grow accustomed to their finery, and perhaps pay attention to Phbe Tozer; or, at least, suffer that young ladys attentions to him? And what would become of him at the end? To drop into a shuffling old gossip, like good old Mr. Tufton, seemed the best thing he could hope for; and who could wonder at the mild stupor of paralysisdisease not tragical, only drivellingwhich was the last chapter of all? The poor young man accordingly marched along George Street deeply disconsolate. When he met the perpetual curate of St. Roques at the door of Masterss bookshopwhere, to be sure, at that hour in the morning, it was natural to encounter Mr. Wentworththe young Nonconformist gazed at him with a certain wistfulness. They looked at each other, in fact, being much of an age, and not unsimilar in worldly means just at the present moment. There were various points of resemblance between them. Mr. Vincent, too, wore an Anglican coat, and assumed a high clerical aspectsumptuary laws forbidding such presumption being clearly impracticable in England; and the Dissenter was as fully endowed with natural good looks as the young priest. How was it, then, that so vast a world of difference and separation lay between them? For one compensating moment Mr. Vincent decided that it was because of his more enlightened faith, and felt himself persecuted. But even that pretence did not serve the purpose. He began to divine faintly, and with a certain soreness, that external circumstances do stand for something, if not in the great realities of a mans career, at least in the comforts of his life. A poor widows son, educated at Homerton, and an English squires son, public school and university bred, cannot begin on the same level. To compensate that disadvantage requires something more than a talent for preaching. Perhaps genius would scarcely do it without the aid of time and labour. The conviction fell sadly upon poor Arthur Vincent as he went down the principal street of Carlingford in the October sunshine. He was rapidly becoming disenchanted, and neither the Nonconformist nor the Patriot, nor Exeter Hall itself, could set him up again. With these feelings the young pastor pursued his way to see the poor woman who, according to Mrs. Browns account, was so anxious to see the minister. He found this person, whose desire was at present shared by most of the female members of Salem without the intervention of the Devonshire Dairy, in a mean little house in the close lane dignified by the name of Back Grove Street. She was a thin, dark, vivaciouslooking woman, with a face from which some forty years of energetic living had withdrawn all the colour and fulness which might once have rendered it agreeable, but which was, nevertheless, a remarkable face, not to be lightly passed over. Extreme thinness of outline and sharpness of line made the contrast between this educated countenance and the faces which had lately surrounded the young minister still more remarkable. It was not a profound or elevated kind of education, perhaps, but it was very different from the thin superficial lacker with which Miss Phbe was coated. Eager dark eyes, with dark lines under themthin eloquent lips, the upper jaw projecting slightly, the mouth closing fast and firma wellshaped small head, with a light black lace handkerchief fastened under the chinno complexion or softening of tinta dark, sallow, colourless face, thrilling with expression, energy, and thought, was that on which the young man suddenly lighted as he went in, somewhat indifferent, it must be confessed, and expecting to find nothing that could interest him. She was seated in a shabby room, only halfcarpeted, up two pair of stairs, which looked out upon no more lively view than the back of Salem Chapel itself, with its few dismal scattered gravesand was working busily at mens clothing of the coarsest kind, blue stuff which had transferred its colour to her thin fingers. Meagre as were her surroundings, however, Mr. Vincent, stumbling listlessly up the narrow bare stair of the poor lodginghouse, suddenly came to himself as he stood within this humble apartment. If this was to be his penitent, the story she had to tell might be not unworthy of serious listening. He stammered forth a half apology and explanation of his errand, as he gazed surprised at so unexpected a figure, wondering within himself what intense strain and wear of life could have worn to so thin a tissue the outer garment of this keen and sharpedged soul. Come in, said the stranger, I am glad to see you. I know you, Mr. Vincent, though I cant suppose youve observed me. Take a seat. I have heard you preach ever since you cameso, knowing in a manner how your thoughts run, Ive a kind of acquaintance with you which, to be sure, isnt the same on your side. I daresay the woman at the Dairy sent you to me? I understoodfrom Mrs. Brown certainlythat you wanted to see me, said the puzzled pastor. Yes, it was quite true. I have resources in myself, to be sure, as much as most people, said his new acquaintance, whom he had been directed to ask for as Mrs. Hilyard, but still human relations are necessary; and as I dont know anybody here, I thought Id join the Chapel. Queer set of people, rather, dont you think? she continued, glancing up from her rapid stitching to catch Vincents conscious eye; they thought I was in spiritual distress, I suppose, and sent me the butterman. Lord bless us! if I had been, what could he have done for me, does anybody imagine? and when he didnt succeed, there came the Dairy person, who, I daresay, would have understood what I wanted had I been a cow. Now I can make out what Im doing when I have you, Mr. Vincent. I know your line a little from your sermons. That was wonderfully clever on Sunday morning about confirmation. I belong to the Church myself by rights, and was confirmed, of course, at the proper time, like other people, but I am a person of impartial mind. That was a famous downright blow. I liked you there. I am glad to have your approbation, said the young minister, rather stiffly; but excuse meI was quite in earnest in my argument. Yes, yes; that was the beauty of it, said his eager interlocutor, who went on without ever raising her eyes, intent upon the rough work which he could not help observing sometimes made her scarred fingers bleed as it passed rapidly through them. No argument is ever worth listening to if it isnt used in earnest. Ive led a wandering life, and heard an infinity of sermons of late years. When there are any brains in them at all, you know, they are about the only kind of mental stimulant a poor woman in my position can come by, for Ive no time for reading lately. Down here, in these regions, where the butterman comes to inquire after your spiritual interests, and is a superior being, added this singular new adherent of Salem, looking full for a single moment in her visitors eyes, with a slight movement of the muscles of her thin face, and making a significant pause, the airs a trifle heavy. It isnt pure oxygen we breathe in Back Grove Street, by any means. I assure you it surprises me more than I can explain, to find, said Vincent, hesitating for a proper expression, to find Such a person as I am in Back Grove Street, interrupted his companion, quickly; yesand thereby hangs a tale. But I did not send for you to tell it. I sent for you for no particular reason, but a kind of yearning to talk to somebody. I beg your pardon sincerelybut you know, she said, once more with a direct sudden glance and that halfvisible movement in her face which meant mischief, you are a minister, and are bound to have no inclinations of your own, but to give yourself up to the comfort of the poor. Without any irony, that is the aim I propose to myself, said Vincent; but I fear you are disposed to take rather a satirical view of such matters. It is fashionable to talk lightly on those subjects; but I find life and its affairs sufficiently serious, I assure you Here she stopped her work suddenly, and looked up at him, her dark sharp eyes lighting up her thin sallow face with an expression which it was beyond his power to fathom. The black eyelashes widened, the dark eyebrows rose, with a full gaze of the profoundest tragic sadness, on the surface of which a certain gleam of amusement seemed to hover. The worn woman looked over the dark world of her own experience, of which she was conscious in every nerve, but of which he knew nothing, and smiled at his youth out of the abysses of her own life, where volcanoes had been, and earthquakes. He perceived it dimly, without understanding how, and faltered and blushed, yet grew angry with all the selfassertion of youth. I dont doubt you know that as well as I doperhaps better; but notwithstanding, I find my life leaves little room for laughter, said the young pastor, not without a slight touch of heroics. Mr. Vincent, said Mrs. Hilyard, with a gleam of mirth in her eye, in inferring that I perhaps know better, you infer also that I am older than you, which is uncivil to a lady. But for my part, I dont object to laughter. Generally its better than crying, which in a great many cases I find the only alternative. I doubt, however, much whether life, from the buttermans point of view, wears the same aspect. I should be inclined to say not; and I daresay your views will brighten with your company, added the aggravating woman, again resuming, with eyes fixed upon it, her laborious work. I perceive you see already what is likely to be my great trial in Carlingford, said young Vincent. I confess that the society of my officebearers, which I suppose I must always consider myself bound to That was a very sad sigh, said the rapid observer beside him; but dont confide in me, lest I should be tempted to tell somebody. I can speak my mind without prejudice to anybody; and if you agree with me, it may be a partial relief to your feelings. I shall be glad to see you when you can spare me half an hour. I cant look at you while I talk, for that would lose me so much time, but at my age it doesnt matter. Come and see me. Its your business to do me goodand its possible I might even do some good to you. Thank you. I shall certainly come, said the minister, rising with the feeling that he had received his dismissal for today. She rose, too, quickly, and but for a moment, and held out her hand to him. Be sure you dont betray to the dairywoman what I had on my mind, and wanted to tell you, though she is dying to know, said his singular new acquaintance, without a smile, but with again a momentary movement in her thin cheeks. When she had shaken hands with him, she seated herself again immediately, and without a moments pause proceeded with her work, apparently concentrating all her faculties upon it, and neither hearing nor seeing more of her visitor, though he still stood within two steps of her, overshadowing the table. The young man turned and left the room with involuntary quietness, as if he had been dismissed from the presence of a princess. He went straight downstairs without ever pausing, and hastened through the narrow backstreet with still the impulse communicated by that dismissal upon him. When he drew breath, it was with a curious mixture of feelings. Who she was or what she washow she came there, working at those slops till the colour came off upon her hands, and her poor thin fingers bledshe so strangely superior to her surroundings, yet not despising or quarrelling with them, or even complaining of them, so far as he could make outinfinitely perplexed the inexperienced minister. He came away excited and bewildered from the interview, which had turned out so different from his expectations. Whether she had done him good, was extremely doubtful; but she had changed the current of his thoughts, which was in its way an immediate benefit. Marvelling over such a mysterious apparition, and not so sure as in the morning that nothing out of the most vulgar routine ever could occur in Carlingford, Mr. Vincent turned with meditative steps towards the little house at the extreme end of Grove Street, where his predecessor still lingered. A visit to old Mr. Tufton was a periodical once aweek duty, to be performed with the utmost regularity. Tozer and Pigeon had agreed that it would be the making of the young minister to draw thus from the experience of the old one. Whether Mr. Vincent agreed with them, may be apprehended from the scene which follows. CHAPTER III. MR. TUFTONS house was at the extremity of Grove Streetat the extremity, consequently, in that direction, of Carlingford, lying parallel with the end of Grange Lane, and within distant view of St. Roques. It was a little oldfashioned house, with a small garden in front and a large garden behind, in which the family cabbages, much less prosperous since the old minister became unable to tend them, flourished. The room into which Mr. Vincent, as an intimate of the house, was shown, was a low parlour with two small windows, overshadowed outside by ivy, and inside by two large geraniums, expanded upon a Jacobs ladder of props, which were the pride of Mrs. Tuftons heart, and made it almost impossible to see anything clearly within, even at the height of day. Some prints, of which one represented Mr. Tufton himself, and the rest other ministers of the connection, in mahogany frames, hung upon the green walls. The furniture, though it was not unduly abundant, filled up the tiny apartment, so that quite a dislocation and rearrangement of everything was necessary before a chair could be got for the visitor, and he got into it. Though it was rather warm for October out of doors, a fire, large for the size of the room, was burning in the fireplace, on either side of which was an easychair and an invalid. The one fronting the light, and consequently fronting the visitor, was Adelaide Tufton, the old ministers daughter, who had been confined to that chair longer than Phbe Tozer could remember; and who, during that long seclusion, had knitted, as all Salem Chapel believed, without intermission, nobody having ever yet succeeded in discovering where the mysterious results of her labour went to. She was knitting now, reclining back in the cushioned chair which had been made for her, and was her shell and habitation. A very pale, emaciated, eagerlooking woman, not much above thirty, but looking, after half a lifetime spent in that chair, any age that imagination might suggest; a creature altogether separated from the worldseparated from life, it would be more proper to sayfor nobody more interested in the world and other peoples share of it than Adelaide Tufton existed in Carlingford. She had lightblue eyes, rather prominent, which lightened without giving much expression to her perfectly colourless face. Her very hair was pale, and lay in braids of a clayey yellow, too listless and dull to be called brown, upon the thin temples, over which the thin white skin seemed to be strained like an overtight bandage. Somehow, however, people who were used to seeing her, were not so sorry as they might have been for Adelaide Tufton. No one could exactly say why; but she somehow appeared, in the opinion of Salem Chapel, to indemnify herself for her privations, and was treated, if without much sympathy, at least without that ostentatious pity which is so galling to the helpless. Few people could afford to be sorry for so quicksighted and allremembering an observer; and the consequence was, that Adelaide, almost without knowing it, had managed to neutralise her own disabilities, and to be acknowledged as an equal in the general conflict, which she could enter only with her sharp tongue and her quick eye. It was Mr. Tufton himself who sat oppositehis large expanse of face, with the white hair which had been apostrophised as venerable at so many Salem teaparties, and which Vincent himself had offered homage to, looming dimly through the green shade of the geraniums, as he sat with his back to the window. He had a green shade over his eyes besides, and his head moved with a slight palsied tremor, which was now the only remnant of that visitation which had saved his feelings, and dismissed more benignly than Tozer and his brother deacons the old pastor from his old pulpit. He sat very contentedly doing nothing, with his large feet in large loose slippers, and his elbows supported on the arms of his chair. By the evidence of Mrs. Tuftons spectacles, and the newspaper lying on the table, it was apparent that she had been reading the Carlingford Gazette to her helpless companions; and that humble journal, which young Vincent had kicked to the other end of his room before coming out, had made the morning pass very pleasantly to the three secluded inmates of Siloam Cottage, which was the name of the old ministers humble home. Mr. Tufton said umble ome, and so did his wife. They came from storied Islington, both of them, and were of highly respectable connections, not to say that Mrs. Tufton had a little property as well; and, acting in laudable opposition to the general practice of poor ministers wives, had brought many dividends and few children to the limited but comfortable fireside. Mr. Vincent could not deny that it was comfortable in its way, and quite satisfied its owners, as he sat down in the shade of the geraniums in front of the fire, between Adelaide Tufton and her father; but, oh heavens! to think of such a home as all that, after Homerton and high Nonconformist hopes, could come to himself! The idea, however, was one which did not occur to the young minister. He sat down compassionately, seeing no analogy whatever between his own position and theirs; scarcely even seeing the superficial contrast, which might have struck anybody, between his active youth and their helplessness and suffering. He was neither hardhearted nor unsympathetic, but somehow the easy moral of that contrast never occurred to him. Adelaide Tuftons bloodless countenance conveyed an idea of age to Arthur Vincent; her father was really old. The young man saw no grounds on which to form any comparison. It was natural enough for the old man and ailing woman to be as they were, just as it was natural for him, in the height of his early manhood, to rejoice in his strength and youth. So there was a party at Mr. Tozers last nightand you were there, Mr. Vincent, said old Mrs. Tufton, a cheerful active old lady, with pink ribbons in her cap, which asserted their superiority over the doubtful light and the green shade of the geraniums. Who did you have? The Browns and the Pigeons, andeverybody else, of course. Now tell me, did Mrs. Tozer make tea herself, or did she leave it to Phbe? As well as I can remember, she did it herself, said the young pastor. Exactly what I told you, mamma, said Adelaide, from her chair. Mrs. Tozer doesnt mean Phbe to make tea this many a year. I daresay she wants her to marry somebody, the little flirting thing. I suppose she wore her pink, Mr. Vincentand Mrs. Brown that dreadful redandgreen silk of hers; and didnt they send you over a shape of jelly this morning? Ha, ha! I told you so, mamma; that was why it never came to me. Pray let me send it to you, cried Vincent, eagerly. The offer was not rejected, though coquetted with for a few minutes. Then Mr. Tufton broke in, in solemn bass. Adelaide, we shouldnt talk, my dear, of pinks and green silks. Providence has laid you aside, my love, from temptations; and you remember how often I used to say in early days, No doubt it was a blessing, Jemima, coming when it did, to wean our girl from the world; she might have been as fond of dress as other girls, and brought us to ruin, but for her misfortune. Everything is for the best. Oh, bother! said Adelaide, sharplyI dont complain, and never did; but everybody else finds my misfortune, as they call it, very easy to be borne, Mr. Vincenteven papa, you see. There is a reason for everything, to be sure; but how things that are hard and disagreeable are always to be called for the best, I cant conceive. However, let us return to Phbe Tozers pink dress. Werent you rather stunned with all their grandeur? You did not think we could do as much in Salem, did you? Now tell me, who has Mrs. Brown taken in hand to do good to now? I am sure she sent you to somebody; and youve been to see somebody this morning, added the quickwitted invalid, who has turned out different from your expectations. Tell me all about it, please. Dear Adelaide does love to hear whats going on. It is almost the only pleasure she hasand we oughtnt to grudge it, ought we? said Adelaides mother. Stuff! muttered Adelaide, in a perfectly audible aside. Now I think of it, Ill tell you who youve been to see. That woman in Back Grove Streetthere! What do you think of that for a production of Salem, Mr. Vincent? But she does not really belong to Carlingford. She married somebody who turned out badly, and now shes in hiding that he maynt find her; though most likely, if all be true, he does not want to find her. Thats her history. I never pretend to tell more than I know. Who she was to begin with, or who he is, or whether Hilyard may be her real name, or why she lives there and comes to Salem Chapel, I cant tell; but thats the bones of her story, you know. If I were a clever romancer like some people, I could have made it all perfect for you, but I prefer the truth. Clever and queer, isnt she? So I have guessed by what people say. Indeed, you seem to know a great deal more about her than I do, said the astonished pastor. I daresay, assented Adelaide, calmly. I have never seen her, however, though I can form an idea of what she must be like, all the same. I put things together, you see; and it is astonishing the number of scraps of news I get. I shake them well down, and then the broken pieces come together; and I never forget anything, Mr. Vincent, she continued, pausing for a moment to give him a distinct look out of the paleblue eyes, which for the moment seemed to take a vindictive feline gleam. Shes rather above the Browns and the Tozers, you understand. Somehow or other, shes mixed up with Lady Western, whom they call the Young Dowager, you know. I have not made that out yet, though I partly guess. My lady goes to see her up two pairs of stairs in Back Grove Street. I hope it does her ladyship good to see how the rest of the world manage to live and get on. I am afraid, Adelaide, my dear, said Mr. Tufton, in his bass tones, that my young brother will not think this very improving conversation. Dear Tozer was speaking to me yesterday about the sermon to the children. I always preached them a sermon to themselves about this time of the year. My plan has been to take the congregation in classes; the young menah, and theyre specially important, are the young men! Dear Tozer suggested that some popular lectures now would not come amiss. After a long pastorate like mine, said the good man, blandly, unconscious that dear Tozer had already begun to suggest a severance of that tie before gentle sickness did it for him, a congregation may be supposed to be a little unsettled,without any offence to you, my dear brother. If I could appear myself and show my respect to your ministry, it would have a good effect, no doubt; but I am laid aside, laid aside, brother Vincent! I can only help you with my prayers. But dear, dear Mr. Tufton! cried his wife, bless you, the chapel is twice as full as it was six months agoand natural too, with a nice young man. My dear! said the old minister in reproof. Yes, quite naturalcuriosity about a stranger; but my young brother must not be elated; nor discouraged when they drop off. A young pastors start in life is attended by many trials. There is always a little excitement at first, and an appearance of seats letting and the ladies very polite to you. Take it easily, my dear brother! Dont expect too much. In a year or twobyandby, when things settle downthen you can see how its going to be. But dont you think it possible that things may never settle down, but continue rising up instead? said Mr. Vincent, making a little venture in the inspiration of the moment. Mr. Tufton shook his head and raised his large hands slowly, with a deprecating regretful motion, to hold them over the fire. Alas! hes got the fever already, said the old minister. My dear young brother, you shall have my experience to refer to always. Youre always welcome to my advice. Dear Tozer said to me just yesterday, You point out the pitfalls to him, Mr. Tufton, and give him your advice, and Ill take care that he shant go wrong outside, says dear Tozer. Ah, an invaluable man! But a little disposed to interfere, I think, said Vincent, with an irrestrainable inclination to show his profound disrelish of all the advice which was about to be given him. Mr. Tufton raised his heavy forefinger and shook it slowly. Nono. Be careful, my dear brother. You must keep well with your deacons. You must not take up prejudices against them. Dear Tozer is a man of a thousanda man of a thousand! Dear Tozer, if you listen to him, will keep you out of trouble. The trouble he takes and the money he spends for Salem Chapel is, mark my words, unknownand, added the old pastor, awfully syllabling the long word in his solemn bass, inconceivable. He is a bore and an ass for all that, said the daring invalid opposite, with perfect equanimity, as if uttering the most patent and apparent of truths. Dont you give in to him, Mr. Vincent. A pretty business you will have with them all, she continued, dropping her knittingneedles and lifting her paleblue eyes, with their sudden green gleam, to the face of the newcomer with a rapid perception of his character, which, having no sympathy in it, but rather a certain mischievous and pleased satisfaction in his probable discomfiture, gave anything but comfort to the object of her observation. You are something new for them to pet and badger. I wonder how long theyll be of killing Mr. Vincent. Papas tough; but you remember, mamma, they finished off the other man before us in two years. Oh, hush, Adelaide, hush! youll frighten Mr. Vincent, cried the kind little mother, with uneasy looks when he comes to see us and cheer us upas I am sure is very kind of himit is a shame to put all sorts of things in his head, as papa and you do. Never mind Adelaide, Mr. Vincent, dear. Do your duty, and never fear anybody; thats always been my maxim, and Ive always found it answer. Not going away, are you? Dear, dear! and weve had no wise talk at all, and never once asked for your poor dear motherquite well, I hope?and Miss Susan? You should have them come and see you, and cheer you up. Well, good morning, if you must go; dont be long before you come again. And, my dear young brother, dont take up any prejudices, interposed Mr. Tufton, in tremulous bass, as he pressed Vincents halfreluctant fingers in that large soft flabby ministerial hand. Adelaide added nothing to these valedictions; but when she too had received his leavetaking, and he had emerged from the shadow of the geraniums, the observer paused once more in her knitting. This one will not hold out two years, said Adelaide, calmly, to herself, no one else paying any attention; and she returned to her work with the zest of a spectator at the commencement of an exciting drama. She did double work all the afternoon under the influence of this refreshing stimulant. It was quite a new interest in her life. Meanwhile young Vincent left the green gates of Siloam Cottage with no very comfortable feelingswith feelings, indeed, the reverse of comfortable, yet conscious of a certain swell and elevation in his mind at the same moment. It was for him to show the entire community of Carlingford the difference between his reign and the old regime. It was for him to change the face of affairsto reduce Tozer into his due place of subordination, and to bring in an influx of new life, intelligence, and enlightenment over the prostrate butterman. The very sordidness and contraction of the little world into which he had just received so distinct a view, promoted the revulsion of feeling which now cheered him. The aspiring young man could as soon have consented to lose his individuality altogether as to acknowledge the most distant possibility of accepting Tozer as his guide, philosopher, and friend. He went back again through Grove Street, heated and hastened on his way by those impatient thoughts. When he came as far as Salem, he could not but pause to look at it with its pinched gable and mean little belfry, innocent of a bell.