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Then he remembers how much she has probably had to suffer from both, and his anger dies suddenly. He draws her to him and holds her in his arms.

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to us? Do you not think I shall be able | his life. If it did, I suppose that he to protect my wife against both?” would shoot himself. You do not understand- a man does not suffer only through his love, though through that he may be wounded sorely enough, God knows, but it is his honor also. He is shamed in the sight of his fellow-men a laughing-stock! Good heavens! Daisy (breaking off and looking down at her), "what can make you hit upon such a subject as this, and to-day of all days?" She does not answer. eyes downcast, mute.

"My darling, forget the past. Never trouble your heart over it again. Remember you are mine now. Whoever assails you, assails me.'

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For a moment she lets her head rest on his shoulder, as if she were very weary, then she raises it, and drawing a little away from him, looks very earnestly into his face.

"I want you to tell me," she says nervously, catching her breath a little as if what she has to say is very hard to her. "When - when she—that other girl gave you up, were you very miserable?" "Miserable!" (his face darkening) "I was worse than miserable; I was mad with rage. I think I cursed God and man. Good heavens, child! what can possess you to remind me of it?"

She does not answer - not a word. "Is it" (his face brightening into a gleam of laughter)—"is it possible that you are jealous of her? Console yourself. I think I can honestly say I had absolutely forgotten that she ever existed until you reminded me of her. My little darling" (holding her with tender arms, looking into her eyes with eyes full of honest love), "can't you understand that every hair of your head is a thousand times more precious to me than her whole body, and that as long as I have you, I do not care one straw what becomes of all the other women in the world?"

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"And if" (hesitatingly, and yet with an unexplained earnestness) - "and if you lost me - if, for instance (trying to speak jestingly), "I turned out badly like she did, and threw you over or went away from you in some way, would you would you care very much? Would not the very knowing that I was bad and fickle, and never worthy of you, help you in a little while not just at first-but in a little while, to get over it?"

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She stands with

He supposes, naturally enough, that it was only one of the little manœuvres of which all women are capable to gain repeated assurances of a love of which they are already sure.

"Was it," he says smiling, "that my house and my belongings do not come up to your expectations? or" (laughing outright) "that you have seen some one you like better than me, and are trying to pave the way to throwing me over?"

But she does not smile. She draws a long breath that is almost a sob, and looks straight up into his face with her big blue eyes.

"I wanted to know," she answers," and now I know."

He glances at her quickly, with the dawn of a suspicion, but it is a suspicion that is too monstrous, too incredible, ever to get beyond the dawn, and he is too glad at heart, too relieved at the success of the day, too certain of the happiness that is lying before him to be captious or critical of her manner. He will not allow anything to damp his gladness; he only supposes that she has been overstrung; that some one, perhaps, has been raking up that old story and worrying her.

He draws her hand through his arm and leads her along the little path. It is such a pretty path. Even in the semidarkness which falls so quickly after the sunshine of a September afternoon, Daisy can see the drooping trees on either side of the river, the mossy banks and tangled creepers.

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"How lovely it is! she says, looking around her with eyes that are blue as the forget-me-nots in daylight, but that are both dark and wistful here in the shadow. "The river seems to be singing a little song all to itself."

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"It sings a different song sometimes (laughing). "When the floods are out the water often comes over the path where we are standing; sometimes it goes with such force that bushes and trees are torn up by the roots and carried along with

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it. It is difficult to imagine now, is it | sesses too much
not?"

Yes, it is difficult to imagine. The
water laps gently, rhythmically against
the bank below them. It is so peaceful,
so silent. Daisy stands listening, silent
too.

"Of what are you thinking?" asks Annesley, bending his head to look into her face, jealous of her silence, of her very thoughts.

"I was thinking" (looking before her with sweet, serious eyes) "of that picture of the Christian martyr the girl floating down the stream with the halo of light over her head do you not know it? I was thinking if life ever grew so hard, so impossible that one could not bear it, how tempting that peaceful river would look."

He raises his head abruptly with a sense of sudden chill.

It is certainly hardly the speech one might expect from the tender, happy lips of the woman one loves.

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Decidedly those women have been
too much for her," thinks Annesley,
Aloud he says:
"Come and dance.
We will have no more thinking to-night."
"What has he been doing to her?"
says Lady Belminster, when she sees the
girl's face in the glare of the lights. "She
ought to be triumphant. She has got all
this "
(looking around at the house to
which her own is in comparison bare as a
barrack-room), "but she looks as if she
had seen a ghost!"

From The Cornhill Magazine.
COUNTRY PARSONS.

"book-learning

" for

them, and, sooth to say, they somewhat despise the farming of his glebe, supposing him to keep it in his own hands. A country parson seldom makes a good farmer, and (if good farmers will let us say it) he is generally considered a fair object to be imposed upon by them when his produce goes to market. It is upon record that one surprised the neighborhood by the excellence of his crops and their due rotation, but he was always rather behindhand with everything. The churchwarden was deputed to ask him the reason of this, when the rest of his procedure was so creditable in the eyes of the parish. The parson laughed, and confessed he had not the remotest knowledge of farming, but possessed plenty of observation. He therefore took as his pattern one of the largest and best farmers in the parish, and did whatever he noticed this man ordered to be done on his estate. When he sowed beans, then he, the parson, did the same; when he cut hay, he did so too; consequently it was not to be wondered at that he was' always just a little behindhand. The clergyman rose highly, after this avowal, in the estimation of his flock. This haphazard mode of farming brought him nearer to them than if he had followed the precepts of Stephens and Mechi. Nothing pleases the rustic mind so much as knowing all the secrets of successful agriculture.

To realize the blank which the removal of the parson from rural England would occasion, is to foreshadow the extreme result of disestablishment and disendowment. Without entering here upon this wide question in its political and ecclesiastical bearings, it is tolerably cerTHE tendency which modern life has tain that were so sweeping a measure to uniformity and suppression of all carried out, the Church would be obliged marked characteristics has frequently in great measure to fall back upon the been noticed. Among the few elements teeming centres of population, and would of picturesqueness, however, which a flourish among them with renewed ruthless civilization still suffers to linger strength, while the sad spectacle of retroin England, certainly not the least is the gression would be exhibited in many country parson. The type is one and country parishes. In poor and sequesthe same, but its expression is manifold. tered districts it can scarcely be doubted He brings together, as it were, by his that civilization in its highest aspects own individuality, all ranks of men in his would be blighted, and in some places parish, touching the squire or lawyer by die out altogether for a time. Neither reminiscences of school and college life, clergy nor sacred buildings could be mainwhile his holy profession unites him with tained; so that the example of the one, the joys and sorrows of his poorer parish- and the many silent but eloquent influioners. Perhaps his farmers do not al-ences of the other, would be lost. Here, ways sympathize with him; but then he is in some sort worse than a landlord, as he exacts tithes. Then, again, he pos

again, it is not our purpose to speak of the divine and deeper benefits which a parish receives, or may receive, from a

resident parish priest; but the extinction crystallize and brighten; a model suffiof that idyllic English life which flour- ciently superior to excite, yet sufficiently ishes in and around country rectories, so near to encourage and facilitate imitation; picturesquely and so profitably withal, this unobtrusive, continuous agency of a cannot but be regarded as a national ca- Protestant Church establishment-this it lamity. An important factor in the efforts is which the patriot and the philanthropist, made at present to diffuse goodness, light, who would again unite the love of peace and sweetness would require to be elim- with the faith in the progressive ameliorainated from the philanthropist's calcula- tion of mankind, cannot value at too high tions, while the attractiveness of country a price." * It is, we are glad to believe, life would be greatly diminished. In all the glory of the Church of England that the thousand little kindly acts which are she possesses many such sons, nurtured it unconsciously rendered and accepted, and may be in the great schools of the counmake up so much of the pleasure of rural | try — at all events equipped for their life, in the ever-recurring routine of pa- practical work in life at the universities; rochial management, in social gatherings, mingling freely both at school and college at friendly dinner-parties, no face would with those who are hereafter to hold high be so missed as that of the parson. rank at the bar, in the senate, in civil and Without his presence the warm colors in military service abroad; able to touch the which poets and essayists have always intellects of such educated men, as well painted life at each scattered Auburn, as to evoke the softer emotions from the would fade out, and a dull uniformity | hearts of ignorance and indifference. In creep over the landscape. To take but this knowledge of men and manners alone the lowest ground, there would be a griev- the English clergy, from its antecedents, is ous diminution of cakes and ale in merrie | superior to the Scotch ministers on the one England; while amid the many depressing and earthward tendencies which always prevail in country districts, the loss of a powerful counteracting element which affects both heart and head, and strives to point the way to "a better country, which is an heavenly," if it always seemed to itself to fall short of its own ideal, could ill be spared.

hand, and the seminary-nurtured parish priests of Italy and France on the other. Indeed the distinction between the regulars and the seculars in the Middle Ages is not dissimilar to the differences now apparent between the parish priests of Rome and of England. Without wishing to cast the slightest slur on the learning and devotion of the great body of Romish clergy, we should imagine that they must frequently themselves deplore that dwarfing of the sympathetic and affectionate side of life in their own case which belongs so fully to their English brother.

This many-sidedness, so to speak, of the country parson's character has frequently been dwelt upon with approbation by poets and moralists. He must be, in the best sense of the phrase, all things to all men. Divine, scholar, farm- Those great differences in learning and er, naturalist, sportsman, with warm sym- political wisdom which, as Macaulay has pathies and an extended range of knowl- eloquently pointed out, marked the town edge, he is called upon to be the teacher, and country clergy in the seventeenth consoler, and friend of all his parishion- century, have long disappeared. Thanks ers. "The clergyman is with his parish- to railroads, telegraphs, and postal faciliioners and among them," says Coleridge; *ties, the most retired dweller in the coun"he is neither in the cloistered cell nor in the wilderness, but a neighbor and a family man, whose education and rank admit him to the mansion of the rich landholder, while his duties make him the frequent visitor of the farmhouse and the cottage." And he describes what may be termed the secular duties of the country parson in apt words: "That to every parish throughout the kingdom there is transplanted a germ of civilization; that in the remotest villages there is a nucleus round which the capabilities of the place may

try can now keep himself better informed in general knowledge and the changeful history of the nation than could a peer who lived far from the capital in Charles the Second's reign. These and the like conveniences of civilization counterbalance the preponderance of learning amongst city clergy. Many a man now will be found occupied in the care of a rural parish deeply versed, it may be, in Church history, in sacred hermeneutics, in liturgies, in Councils, in doctrines; and his knowledge is rendered useful to others *See, too, some_eloquent pages in Wordsworth's * See Coleridge's “Table Talk,” p. 216 (quoted Poems, Appendix, Prefaces, etc. (Ed. 1857, vol. vi., from Church and State). p. 415, seq.)

by the promptitude with which he can en- Owing to the isolation of the country trust his thoughts to the printing-press. clergy, their education and habits of Greater leisure compensates with such thought, the few instances of eccentricity scholars for more ready access to books. which the levelling tendencies of modern It is doubtless true that the more brilliant society yet tolerate, are mainly to be found and practical intellects among the clergy in their numbers. Gilbert White was are now, as at the Revolution, being ab- doubtless regarded as a harmless oddity sorbed in the great town populations; by his contemporaries, but he only carried but the works of laborious culture, the out resolutely that love of natural history histories and graver treatises which owe which is so common among the clergy. their being to clerical industry, are for Of the ten or twelve thousand country the most part produced in rural retire. parsons of the present day, we venture to ment, if investigated in London. It is assert that a large number informally jot the fashion to look upon the country par- down in diary or note-book the date of the son's as an indolent life; and so it doubt- coming of the cuckoo, or the departure of less is in many cases where a weak charac- the swallow. Even the late Bishop of ter cannot or does not make head against Oxford found time to make these notes the somnolent influences of the country. in his diary. To take another side of But busy town workers, who look down mental activity, all sense of natural beauty upon the country parson from the feverish or the sacredness of antiquity will fre and engrossing nature of their daily quently desert a mathematical parson who work, would be surprised at the multifari- carries his own studies with him when he ousness of the duties daily discharged by quits Cambridge common rooms for rural a conscientious clergyman in the country. shades. We remember asking such a Private study, public ministrations, it one in the north of England, in whose may be daily public prayers; teaching his parish was a venerable relic of the past own children and those at the parish known as King Arthur's Round Table, school; parish accounts; lectures on for some particulars of it. He had never scientific and useful subjects during the been near it, he confessed; but promptly winter, and perhaps a night school as asserted that with twenty men for three well; the functions, it may be, of diocesan days, and a couple of hundred loads of inspector, magistrate, or guardian these limestone, he could make a much more are what ordinarily make great inroads surprising table, much as Mr. Fergusson upon his time. Add to these avocations would construct Stonehenge with a hunthat he may be fond of his garden, or of dred Chinese coolies. The late Prebensome scientific pursuit; that he becomes, dary Hawker, of Morwenstowe, may as his character is better known, the perhaps without offence be cited as antrusted friend and adviser on a multitude other instance of eccentricity engendered of different subjects for his parishioners; by solitary habits and much pondering on that he writes their business letters for one branch of study, until the mental perthe more illiterate, and makes wills for version almost passed into lunacy. Most the moribund; that he is ever at the beck sojourners in the west have heard of his and call of want and ignorance; that he cats and staves, and his wilful closing of either engages in tuition in many cases the eyes to the facts of modern life. All to eke out a slender income, or occupies country lovers, however, will recall inhimself in writing articles, reviews, etc., stances of parsons who never wear hats, for the London press; and when at length or who breed white mice and canaries in he goes to bed tired out with walking, every room of their rectories, or only talking, writing, and thinking (for we have walk abroad after dark, and the like. Yet said nothing of the weekly discharge of these men are generally exemplary parish his sacred duties in church, which, of priests. Want of contact with the outer course, require much preparation), his world has unduly warped some trait of careless critics would not altogether like their nature, or led to a harmless custom to change work with him. Certain it is or taste being carried to an excess. Their that no public man is in most cases so parishioners respect them, their liking inadequately paid as is the country par- being blended perhaps with a slight touch son. Fortunately money is not the mo- of awe. Such men would be missed as tive which he sets before himself; integral portions of country life, were it therefore little is heard in the way of not that, as often as death claims them, a complaint from a body of men simply fresh generation of parsons is developing indispensable to the happiness and wel-kindred if newer-fashioned eccentricities. fare of the rural districts.

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They are like a patch of color gratefully

hailed in the general uniformity of rustic | Church master of the situation, when in life. the order of nature death overtakes the

with a squire who straitly refused to go to
church on Sunday; "he had not been
near the parson for twenty years." We
went and heard a Welsh sermon on Goli-
ath, full of sound and fury, but signifying
nothing to us, as we knew nothing of the
language. Still the clergyman looked
innocent and pacific; and a very little
thing, say a Christmas dinner (a capital
mode of peacemaking), would probably
have set the foes at one again. Another
case comes into the mind where an en-
raged squire cut his parson for more years
than either the one or the other could
remember, because palisades were not
allowed round a grave. The parson van-
quished his foe in an epigram,
you railed at me in life, such was your failing ;
In death be easy, you will have no railing.

But it is to other and more useful char- squire! No one is so vexatious a foc, acteristics that parsons mainly owe their too, as a parson. In a little parish he prominence in the country-side. This must meet the angry squire almost daily; one, it may be, is a great archæologist, he may covertly preach against him in a and even dares to contradict the most thousand delicate innuendoes and sly imcaptious of architectural critics when the plications. The squire's personality may latter ventures into his district for one of be embodied in a hundred of the worst the autumnal archæological excursions. characters found in Scripture, and moral Another knows more about mosses and reflections drawn from them all in terms fungi than any other man in England. the reverse of complimentary, and all inAll the mysteries of ecclesiastical vest- telligible even to Hodge's mind. The ments are at a third's fingers' ends; he squire's wife, too, will frequently prove a will discuss with abundant learning chi- traitor in the camp; she has liked the meres and morses, chasubles and amices; rector's wife before their lords quarrelled, and as ceremoniarius is in great request and now the women hang together, and when the bishop attempts some novel the squire must nourish a serpent in his function. This clergyman is celebrated bosom. We were once staying in Wales for his roses which have filled his platechest with cups; that one is an acknowledged authority upon salmon-fishing, to whom even the Field would defer. Provoke not a discussion on ancient armor with him, or you will be overwhelmed with jambs and sollerets, gussets and lamboys. As amateur ecclesiastical lawyer, that one is unrivalled. He will browbeat the archdeacon, intimidate the rural dean, and knows his way through all the ecclesiastical courts. Those who are not in the secret think that he has mistaken his vocation, and had he chosen the law might have been lord chancellor. Those who are behind the scenes, being aware that his father is a legal light, assert that the parson is only a good lawyer if he has time to consult paternal authority by the penny post. Detraction, however, always accompanies distinction. In some remote parts of the country, where squires and squireens have not moved with the times, and are still of opinion that the best way to hold their own in a village is to quarrel with the parson, a series of interminable feuds is the sad spectacle that meets the inquirer in parish after parish. If a squire only reflected a moment in these dark districts, when he lets loose his temper, and then, to punish his opponent, never again goes to church, he might remember his long laid-by Latin grammar, and bethink himself that such a contest is one ubi tu pulsas, ego vapulo tantum; that is to say, the honor and satisfaction of the struggle, such as there is, must needs rest with the parson. He is generally the younger man, and will probably outlive his antagonist, however stoutly that one inay brandish his arms, and even if he be the best of haters; then how unsatisfactory it must be to leave the

ere now

More commonly the country parson tries every mode of reconciliation, and then, if his antagonist be still obdurate, falls back upon "the more excellent way" and forgives him. With an ordinary parishioner who quarrels with him, the parson uses kind words and bides his time for doing him a favor. The most infuriated parishioner speedily perceives that there is no credit to be gained by maintaining animosity against a man who does not even bear a grudge in return; nay, who is so poor-spirited that he cannot remember there exists such a thing as a quarrel after three months have elapsed. Such an one is not worthy, he thinks, of his steel; and soon he, too, collapses, and there is an end of it. The old amusement of baiting the parson at the annual vestry meeting has well-nigh lost its zest. Since the abolition of church-rates the good man can very well disappoint his foes and remain at home.

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