"Perhaps not; but the time will come inevitably. But why, let me ask you, are you so frightfully abstemious? Do you have a platter of pig-nuts on your table, to balance the water-jug? No wine, no ale, not even small beer ?"

I am afraid that I blushed as I said, "No." "Yet remember the venerable distich,-almost the only Latin that has not escaped me:

"Alum, si sit stalum, non est malum.

Beerum, si sit cleerum, est sincerum."

Even an Ascetic, a Trappist, might drink small beer. Why not small beer ?"

"Because, sir, honestly, I cannot afford it."

"Why your Curacy is eighty pounds a year. And, by the way, that puts me in mind to say that the outgoings from it from any local claims will be a mere trifle,-four or five pounds a year, at furthest. My curates have generally given a couple of guineas yearly towards the support of the schools; and we have made up the organist's salary among us since there has been this difficulty about the Churchrates. I confess I see no good in an organist, or in organ either, for that matter; and I should have been quite content to have got rid of both: I would give the parish nothing which it was not disposed to pay for. However, the ladies were all against me, and as they usually contrive to get matters their own way, I had to fork out a pound, and I expect they will call upon you for another: and then, let me see, there's the coal fund, and the clothing club, and one or two other things of the same kind which I can't recall just at this moment; but the sum total will be inconsiderable."

I wish I had thought so; but the fact is that I was quite aghast at hearing of this unexpected call upon me. Of course, I had calculated upon some outlay in alms; but I see now that, in devoting the

chief part of my income to my mother's support, I had excused myself from almost all other claims, and that in fact I was indulging in a great deal of selfishness. I am glad now, though it gave me a wrench at the moment, to have had these trappings of self-deceit stripped off. I do not like to be charitable, unless, forsooth, I can be charitable in my own way. The moment a matter of this kind is settled for me, and I am expected to do it as a matter of course, I revolt. Come down, proud stomach, come down.' You have been the offending member, and you shall bear the punishment for your pains. These five pounds shall be deducted from the expenses of my table.

I suppose that Mr. Soaper thought I looked rather blank, and that my countenance gave the lie to my words; for though I assented readily enough, he seemed to deem it necessary to frame an apology.

"Of course, my dear sir, we shall take care not to press too hard upon you. I can quite enter into the difficulties of the 'res angusta domi.' Indeed, I continually experience it myself. I am often very much pinched. Though I may seem, in the opinion of the world, to have a fair nominal income, there are heavy claims upon me; duties of hospitality to be exercised; the removal of my family to Bath or Brighton from time to time, as the indifferent state of my health makes change of air and scene to be needful; the-the-in short, my good friend, it is with extreme difficulty that I can make both ends meet: and therefore, though you are single, and I have the burden of providing for a family on my shoulders, I can quite enter into your feelings as to the expediency of thrift. Penny and penny, laid up will be many.' Oh no! we will not be hard upon you. And meanwhile, any little comforts, now, that you may have a fancy

for, and which we can supply from the Vicarage, during our absence from home, shall be at your service. Milk, for instance, new milk from our little Alderney that has just calved, and who will be eating her head off in the paddock,-you must have your milk from the Vicarage; yes, and gardenstuff: O positively, you must and shall have the garden-stuff: it would only be thrown to the pigs else. And, by the way, Mr. Dove, can you ride ?" "O yes.

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'Well, well, my Bucephalus will have nothing to do. A canter upon the downs occasionally will do him good and yourself too. I will give all necessary orders. Nay, my good friend, no thanks, no thanks. And now come with me, and let me introduce you to my 'womankind.""

CHAPTER III.

THE WOMANKIND.

"Valentine. And is she not a heavenly saint?
"Protheus. No; but she is an earthly paragon."

Two Gentlemen of Verona.

I Do not know whether it is nervousness, or bashfulness, or both, that make me so awkward, but I believe that if I had the choice, I should always prefer a beating to being ushered into the company of strangers. But formidable as the ordeal is at all times, it becomes positively terrible, when I find myself in the company with those who devolve on me the task of making conversation. I remember that soon after I went to college our good old Provost asked me to dinner. He was such a kind man that I did not dread it as much as I expected,

and as I knew that John Sinclair, a talking, rattling fellow, full of undergraduate nonsense, was to dine there too, I felt that I might shrink, like a snail, into my shell, and that he would make himself agreeable enough for us both. Somehow it had not entered into my calculations that one so fluent as Sinclair, would be less at his ease when in the Provost's drawing-room than at a college wineparty; that, in fact, I was more at ease in company than himself. In old days at Verdon I had been used to a houseful of guests, while poor Sinclair was, I believe, the son of a man whose taste lay rather in his stables and his kennel than in good society, and so he had few advantages at home of mixing with his equals. The consequence was, that having a good deal of natural cleverness, he got on well enough in the free-and-easy society of youths of his own age, but, among his elders, and in the company of women, he was as shy and constrained as if he had been born in a different class of life, and found himself suddenly transferred to one with which he had no habits or feelings in common. But of all this I as yet knew nothing, and so, with no misgivings on my part, we wended our way together to the Provost's lodgings. I was behind Sinclair when we were shown into the drawing-room, but before the door was closed, he contrived to thrust me forward. Never shall I forget that moment. There were a couple of couches, and a couple of chairs, forming an avenue of approach on either side the fireplace. And on these couches and chairs sat the six Misses Waynflete, the Provost's daughters, and their two cousins the Misses Chicheley, all in white muslin, and all looking, as it seemed to me, as if they thought that we had been shown in by mistake, and that we had come on the wrong day. I felt as if I would have given all I had in the world (it was little enough!)

to refer to the Provost's card of invitation, or to have made a bolt, and rushed to the good man's dressing-room to inquire whether he expected me or no: but my presence of mind, if ever I had any, was gone. I only knew that I was scarlet to the very roots of my hair, that all moisture had left my throat, tongue, and palate, and had fled in a cold exudation into the palms of my hands. I made my bow, and got eight bows in return.

That fairly settled me. I retreated a step backwards, and trod heavily on Sinclair's foot. If he had but been a dog and howled (he declared afterwards that I lamed him for a week,) I believe I could have ejaculated "Poor fellow!" and the spell would have been broken: but as it was, I could only think that I had never been introduced to Waynfletes or Chicheleys, and I was seized with a conviction that it must be a breach of college discipline to speak to the daughter of the head of a house before I had been formally introduced to her. What to do, therefore, I knew not. I thought a cough would help me, and tried the experiment; but no: if I had broken a bloodvessel in the effort I could not have produced anything like an honest cough, there only came a croak which set my eyes watering, and then ended with a short squeak. I heard a gasp behind me. It was Sinclair, who, after sending the fingers of both hands through his hair, subsided into an arm-chair, which, being lower than he expected, received him with a bump, and then by means of its spring cushion projected him with a bound. However, he clutched at a table, and so found his proper level. Not knowing what else to do, I retreated some few steps without thought of where I was going, and only saw, when too late, that I had got into a cul de sac between a pianoforte and the wall, in the middle of which stood a high chair having a seat some