it might be; and shortly after breakfast the Squire retired
into his study, and absented himself from morning service.

In his delightful _Life of Oliver Goldsmith_, Mr. Forster takes care to
touch our hearts by introducing his hero's excuse for not entering the
priesthood. He did not feel himself good enough. Thy Vicar of Wakefield,
poor Goldsmith, was an excellent substitute for thee; and Dr. Primrose,
at least, will be good enough for the world until Miss Jemima's fears
are realized. Now, Squire Hazeldean had a tenderness of conscience much
less reasonable than Goldsmith's. There were occasionally days in which
he did not feel good enough--I don't say for a priest, but even for one
of the congregation--"days in which (said the Squire in his own blunt
way), as I have never in my life met a worse devil than a devil of a
temper, I'll not carry mine into the family pew. He shan't be growling
out hypocritical responses from my poor grandmother's prayer-book." So
the Squire and his demon staid at home. But the demon was generally cast
out before the day was over; and, on this occasion, when the bell rang
for afternoon service, it may be presumed that the Squire had reasoned
or fretted himself into a proper state of mind; for he was then seen
sallying forth from the porch of his Hall, arm-in-arm with his wife, and
at the head of his household. The second service was (as is commonly the
case, in rural districts) more numerously attended than the first one;
and it was our Parson's wont to devote to this service his most
effective discourse.

Parson Dale, though a very fair scholar, had neither the deep theology
nor the archaeological learning that distinguish the rising generation of
the clergy. I much doubt if he could have passed what would now be
called a creditable examination in the Fathers; and, as for all the nice
formalities in the rubric, he would never have been the man to divide a
congregation, or puzzle a bishop. Neither was Parson Dale very erudite
in ecclesiastical architecture. He did not much care whether all the
details in the church were purely gothic or not: crockets and finials,
round arch and pointed arch were matters, I fear, on which he had never
troubled his head. But one secret Parson Dale did possess, which is,
perhaps, of equal importance with those subtler mysteries--he knew how
to fill his church! Even at morning service no pews were empty, and at
evening service the church overflowed.

Parson D