at the children mark it too.

As the first subject of his theological realm, she sets an example which
other subjects are to follow. They, like her, mingle their contempt for
the parson's business abilities and voluble talk with a hushed reverence
for his esoteric knowledge of subjects inaccessible to common men. They,
like her, manage to combine a perfect readiness to snub him and his
opinions on all earthly topics, with an equal readiness to listen to
him, as to a divine oracle, on the topics of grace and free-will.
Insensibly the subtle distinction tells on the parson himself. He is
conscious, perhaps pleasantly conscious, that he is seen through the
glass of his wife, and seen therefore darkly. He retires within the
domestic veil. He learns to avoid common subjects--subjects, that is,
where the world holds itself at liberty to criticise him. He retires to
fields where he is above criticism. He believes at last in the vamped-up
sermons in which his wife persists in believing. He accepts the position
of an oracle on sacred topics which his wife has made for him. In a
word, the parson's wife has created the British parson.

It is hard to say how far the creator believes in her own creation. In
persuading others, she probably succeeds to a great extent in persuading
herself. At any rate she accepts willingly enough the consequences of a
position which leaves her the master of the parish. In the bulk of cases
the parson is simply the Mikado, the nominal ruler, lapped in soft ease,
and exempt from the worry of the world about him. Woman is the parochial
Tycoon, the constitutional premier who does not rule, but governs. She
is the hidden centre and force of the whole parochial machinery--the
organist, the chief tract distributor, the president of the Dorcas
society, the despot of the penny bank and the coal-club, the head of the
sewing-class, the supervisor of district-visitors, the universal referee
as to the character of mendicant Joneses and Browns. In other words, the
parson's wife has revived an Apostolic Order which but for her would
have died away; she has restored the primitive Diaconate.

Woman is the true parochial deacon, and not the bashful young gentleman
fresh from Oxford, who wears his stole over one shoulder rather than
over two. It is the parson's wife who "serves tables" nowadays; and the
results on parochial activity are in some ways remarkable enough. In the
first place, men are fairly driven from the