once, but I was deterred from putting it into practice by accounts of the bishop's excessive sensitiveness in being interfered with in such matters. My acquaintance with his lordship is very slight, and I shrank from the probability of a polite snub. It may be I was wrong, and that my dislike to part with my friend unconsciously strengthened my reluctance to take action. After all, I have little doubt that our rector is a happier man than if he had been canon, dean, or even bishop. Won't you take any more wine? Then we will join the ladies.

G. (to himself, on his way to the drawingroom). I wonder what is the truth about that parson. The squire is scarcely an independent witness. When a man is conscious of having received great spiritual good from a particular preacher, you cannot trust him to weigh his merits with an unbiassed judgment. I had thought of returning home on Saturday, but I must stay over Sunday, that I may judge for myself.

181

COLLOQUY THE FIFTEENTH.

LADY GOSSIP'S PARTY.

SCENE: A London Drawing-room: five o'clock

tea.

Lady G. O my dear! I have long ago
You see we

left off listening to sermons.
know all that the clergy can tell us, and then
they tell it so badly! Who was that un-
fortunate man-Onesimus, wasn't it?—who
fell into a deep sleep while St. Peter was
preaching at Ephesus? Even a St. Peter
could preach too long, and our modern clergy
are not St. Peters.

Duchess of F. I am afraid I have not been to church lately. Of course it's Of course it's very wicked of me, but I'm rarely up in time on a Sunday morning. So dead tired, you know! Then

of an afternoon one must have one's drive, and in the evening there's dinner.

Countess of K. I must say I feel it my duty to go to church for the sake of example, though, as dear Lady Gossip says, we know beforehand all the facts and inferences the

clergy pretend to teach. I am sure last Sunday the preacher descanted upon the apostle St. Mark till I nearly dropt off my seat with weariness.

Mrs. General Y. I think, dear duchess, and dear Lady Gossip, that if you were to go to hear Mr. Yorrick, of St. Denys, you would be gratified. He is so delightfully comforting. I hate your narrow-minded men, who make you feel discontented with yourself, and send you home in such dreadfully low spirits. Now Mr. Yorrick is liberal in his ideas. seems to think that all will be saved at the last day, though of course some will be better off than others. You come away wonderfully soothed and satisfied. The very roll of his sentences is delicious.

He

Lady A. Now I should recommend Mr.

Starke, of St. Cecilia's.

He's the most ori

He

ginal preacher I know. He never takes the same view of a subject as other people. I heard him lately on Jacob and Esau. said that Moses, or whoever wrote the book of Genesis, evidently thought Jacob the finest character of the two, and that Paul, if indeed he was the real author of the epistles attributed to him, committed himself to a similar opinion. He boldly differed from them both, and gave his reasons, which seemed most conclusive. Jacob was timid, cowardly, underhand, manoeuvring. Esau, on the contrary, though he had his faults, was an admirable specimen of the patriarch of the period, bold, manly, straightforward, quick in temper, but ultimately forgiving. But for the unfortunate colouring given to his character by his biographer, and endorsed by Paul, Mr. Starke had little doubt that Esau would have commanded general admiration.

Hon. Mrs. S. Have you ever heard Mr.

Filchurch? I make a point of hearing him. whenever he preaches in town, though it is always difficult to get a seat. He has a most powerful delivery. His words come out whirling, tumbling, seething, hissing, till you are regularly carried away with them, and don't know in the least where you are. It is impossible to remember what he said afterwards, but that is of little consequence, because he has been so eloquent. They say that he always faints away in the vestry, and that his temples have to be covered with brown paper, dipped in brandy.

Mrs. Admiral L. I don't think I care for dramatic performances, like those of Mr. Fil

church. I heard him once, and it seemed to me as if it must have been regularly rehearsed in a greenroom, with every tone of voice studied, and every gesture practised. We get that sort of thing better done at a theatre. You should try Mr. Peewit. He preaches in that church in Chesapeak Square, though how it is he has not been interfered with by the