"A stranger, where do you come from ?" "Cumberworth, sir," was the reply.

"Cumberworth! why I know everybody at Cumberworth; and I never saw you before."

"I have only been a resident there for four and twenty hours."

"What's your name

"Smith, sir.'

"Smith! Everybody who gets into trouble, and who is found where he has no business to be, calls himself Smith. If I've committed one, I suppose I've committed a score or two of Smiths to Kettleby Gaol in the course of the last year or two. All the vagrants in the country appear to me to belong to the family of Smith."

A flush passed over Mr. Smith's face as this insulting address was made to him, but he remained perfectly silent.

And the baronet was silent, either because he was out of breath, or had nothing more to say, or because his conscience was beginning to give him little tweaks. If he had had a little fuel for his rage, he would have got on to his own satisfaction: but there was nothing left to be in a passion about; and the longer he was silent, the more awkward did the silence seem to grow.

Mr. Smith was a gentleman,-a thorough gentleman both by birth and by education. And far more than that, he was a Christian gentleman,-a gentleman upon Christian principle; one, that is, who is ready to bear and forbear; who avoids offence; is slow to take it; and, if he causes it, is ready at once to make atonement for it. Like everybody else, he had his little foibles and infirmities; he was young, and very inexperienced, but whatever might be the difficulties to which he was exposed, or which he created for himself, he was never wanting in "conduct;" his habits, his feelings,

his instincts would, at all times insure his acting and speaking, "like a gentleman," as he was.

The baronet looked at the Curate, as if resolved to read him through and through. The Curate met the gaze unflinchingly, and returned it so steadily that the baronet quailed beneath it, and at last said, "You inform me that you are a stranger; but you have not told me what you are.

"You did not inquire, but I meant to inform you, sir, as soon as you gave me the opportunity, that I am a Clergyman,-Curate to Mr. Gibson of Cumberworth. If a card be any evidence to the fact, here is mine."

"Reverend John Smith, Cumberworth.' Whew!" exclaimed Sir Tukesbury, "why the . . . . I mean, my good sir, wherefore did you not say so at once ?" "There was nothing to make it needful, sir, that I should give the explanation, unless you required it.

That I was a stranger who had been careless enough to lose my way, was a sufficient reason for seeking to be put right, but none for introducing myself to you. The intrusion upon your grounds was involuntary; but having intruded, the least I could do would be to withdraw as speedily and inoffensively as possible. I trust you will allow me to replace any mischief I have done, and that you will accept on your own part, and convey to any members of the family whom I understood you to say that I have alarmed, the expression of my apologies and regrets. May I beg of you now, to put me on the shortest road homewards."

"Well, sir, you speak very much like a gentleman," said Sir Tukesbury," and I am glad to make your acquaintance, and shall be happy to present you to my wife, Lady Twigge. Kitty, my dear, this gentleman is the Curate of Cumberworth, who having lost his way, has been chased by some of our cows."

Lady Twigge advanced graciously. Mrs. Podlington hung back daintily and superciliously, as though there was some danger that having escaped goring by a mad bull, she might still be tossed by a wild curate. "Won't you come into the house, sir ?" asked Lady Twigge. "Sir Tukesbury, Mr. Smith appears to have lost his hat; you had better send one of the men after it. Perhaps also, you would like us to send up to your residence for another coat; the one you have on is sadly torn." "It is the only coat I have got at Cumberworth," answered the Curate simply.

Mrs. Podlington shrugged her shoulders, and cast an expressive look at Sir Tukesbury, who winced. His new acquaintance was a man with but one coat. The invitation to dinner, which hung on his tongue, was swallowed.

But Lady Twigge had no false shame of that kind.

"My dear," she said, addressing her husband, "is not that the stable clock striking three? Mr. Smith, Sir Tukesbury and I are going to dine at a very unfashionable hour to-day, for we are going to Kettleby, to see the preparations for to-morrow, which will hardly be completed before dusk. And as we may be detained there some time, we have ordered dinner at four. If that is not too early an hour for you, and you don't mind joining a téte-àtéte, will you give us the pleasure of your company ?"

Mr. Smith answered,-truly enough, that he was not fit to be seen, and that he should be much happier if allowed to go home.

66

Well, I suppose we shall meet at Kettleby tomorrow. Have you a ticket ?" inquired Sir Tukesbury.

"No, sir, I have not," replied Mr. Smith.

"If there is one to be had, I dare say they will

let me have it, and I will send it up to you this evening, if I can obtain one."

"I am exceedingly obliged to you, Sir Tukesbury; but I fear I cannot afford the time, I have so much to do just at present."

"O for that matter, Mr. Smith," said Lady Twigge, "all your parishioners will be at Kettleby. Not a soul that can get to the sight will be left at Cumberworth."

Mr. Smith shook his head. "What time," he inquired, "does the business of the day begin ?"

Why these great folks are early, The procession is to leave the Kettleby Station at noon, and they expect to reach the new building half an hour after. I suppose it will be a very punctual affair, so that if you go you must be there to your time. No carriage is to be allowed to enter the High Street after eleven o'clock, and there will be no admission into the building after half-past eleven."

"I am sure that I must stay at home," said Mr. Smith, "but if punctuality is so necessary, will you allow me to ask whether they go by London time at Kettleby, Sir Tukesbury."

"Undoubtedly they do; but why ?"

Only, under those circumstances, I would take the liberty of mentioning that I set my watch, which is as good as a chronometer, at Euston Square yesterday, and that there is half an hour's difference at least, between Cumberworth time and London time."

66 Ah," said the baronet, our stable clock is by no means perfect, and my groom told me this morning, that if the Church clock was right, we were half an hour wrong. I desired him to make the alteration, and I suppose he has, for the two clocks struck three within a minute or two of each other."

"I am afraid then that both the clocks have

gained a great deal since this morning," remarked Mr. Smith.

May not your own watch have lost ?" inquired Sir Tukesbury.

Oh, no," was the reply, "I can answer for that. My watch is a perfect goer. I am one of those people who 'go by clock-work,' as the saying is. I am very particular about my watch."

Well, sir," said Sir Tukesbury, seeing the Curate impatient to be gone, "since I must not press you to stay dinner to-day, and since you won't join in the grand doings to-morrow, will you come and dine with us afterwards, and we will tell you all about them ?"

It was said resolutely, in spite of Mrs. Podlington; and so good humouredly, that Mr. Smith felt that he ought to accept the invitation cordially. And he did so.

CHAPTER VIII.

LISTENERS HEAR NO GOOD OF THEMSELVES.

"Let him be flayed alive: then 'nointed over with honey; set on the head of a wasp's nest; then stand, till he be three quarters and a dram dead; then recovered again with aqua vitæ, or some other hot infusion; then, raw as he is, and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims, shall he be set against a brick wall, the sun looking with a southward eye upon him, where he is to behold him with flies blown to death." Winter's Tale.

It was not a small amount of work which would weary the Reverend John Smith, and of parochial work, properly so called, the worthy Curate had had little enough on the first day of his residence