a clergyman with low rank and preferment
amounting to less than L200 a year should accept high rank, L1,200 a
year, and one of the most desirable positions which his profession had
to afford!

"What!" said the archdeacon, gasping for breath and staring at his
guest as though the violence of his emotion had almost thrown him
into a fit. "What!"

"I do not find myself fit for new duties," urged Mr. Harding.

"New duties! What duties?" said the archdeacon with unintended
sarcasm.

"Oh, Papa," said Mrs. Grantly, "nothing can be easier than what a
dean has to do. Surely you are more active than Dr. Trefoil."

"He won't have half as much to do as he has at present," said Dr.
Grantly.

"Did you see what 'The Jupiter' said the other day about young men?"

"Yes, and I saw that 'The Jupiter' said all that it could to induce
the appointment of Mr. Slope. Perhaps you would wish to see Mr. Slope
made dean."

Mr. Harding made no reply to this rebuke, though he felt it strongly.
He had not come over to Plumstead to have further contention with his
son-in-law about Mr. Slope, so he allowed it to pass by.

"I know I cannot make you understand my feeling," he said, "for we
have been cast in different moulds. I may wish that I had your spirit
and energy and power of combatting; but I have not. Every day that is
added to my life increases my wish for peace and rest."

"And where on earth can a man have peace and rest if not in a
deanery!" said the archdeacon.

"People will say that I am too old for it."

"Good heavens! People! What people? What need you care for any
people?"

"But I think myself I am too old for any new place."

"Dear Papa," said Mrs. Grantly, "men ten years older than you are
appointed to new situations day after day."

"My dear," said he, "it is impossible that I should make you
understand my feelings, nor do I pretend to any great virtue in the
matter. The truth is, I want the force of character which might
enable me to stand against the spirit of the times. The call on all
sides now is for young men, and I have not the nerve to put myself
in opposition to the demand. Were 'The Jupiter,' when it hears
of my appointment, to write article after article setting forth my
incompetency, I am sure it would cost me my reason. I ought to be
able to bear with such things, you will say. Well, my dear, I own
that I ought. But I feel my weakness, and I know that I can't. And
to tell you the truth, I know no mor