hat he was quite indifferent to any
emanations from the profane portion of the periodical press.

Having so far succeeded, he next sounded the bishop; but here he was
astonished by most unexpected resistance. The bishop did not think
it would do. "Not do, why not?" and seeing that his father was not
shaken, he repeated the question in a severer form: "Why not do, my
lord?"

His lordship looked very unhappy, and shuffled about in his chair,
but still didn't give way; he thought Puddingdale wouldn't do for Mr
Harding; it was too far from Barchester.

"Oh! of course he'll have a curate."

The bishop also thought that Mr Quiverful wouldn't do for the
hospital; such an exchange wouldn't look well at such a time; and,
when pressed harder, he declared he didn't think Mr Harding would
accept of Puddingdale under any circumstances.

"How is he to live?" demanded the archdeacon.

The bishop, with tears in his eyes, declared that he had not the
slightest conception how life was to be sustained within him at all.

The archdeacon then left his father, and went down to the hospital;
but Mr Harding wouldn't listen at all to the Puddingdale scheme. To
his eyes it had no attraction; it savoured of simony, and was likely
to bring down upon him harder and more deserved strictures than any he
had yet received: he positively declined to become vicar of
Puddingdale under any circumstances.

The archdeacon waxed wroth, talked big, and looked bigger; he said
something about dependence and beggary, spoke of the duty every man
was under to earn his bread, made passing allusions to the follies of
youth and waywardness of age, as though Mr Harding were afflicted by
both, and ended by declaring that he had done. He felt that he had
left no stone unturned to arrange matters on the best and easiest
footing; that he had, in fact, so arranged them, that he had so
managed that there was no further need of any anxiety in the matter.
And how had he been paid? His advice had been systematically
rejected; he had been not only slighted, but distrusted and avoided;
he and his measures had been utterly thrown over, as had been Sir
Abraham, who, he had reason to know, was much pained at what had
occurred. He now found it was useless to interfere any further, and
he should retire. If any further assistance were required from him,
he would probably be called on, and should be again happy to come
forward. And so he left the hospital, and has not