ints
unique." "That would cost money now?" suggested Parson Jack, pitching
his voice to the true Langona sing-song. "Two thousand pounds would go
a long way."--The tourist scanned the waggon-roof critically, and
lowering his eyes, at length observed the Parson's smile. "Ah, I see! a
sum that would take some collecting hereabouts. Parson's none too well
off, eh?" "Fifty pounds a year or so." "Scandalous! Who's the lay
impropriator?" He was told. "Well, but wouldn't he help?" Parson Jack
shook his head; he had never asked a penny from Sir Harry Vyell, who was
a notorious Gallio in all that concerned religion. He had a further
reason, too. He suspected that Sir Harry chafed a little in a careless
way at his continuing to hold the living, and would be glad to see him
replaced by an incumbent with private means and no failings to be
apologised for with a shrug of the shoulders. Sir Harry, he knew, was
aware of these hateful lapses, though too delicate to allude to them,
and far too charitable to use them (unless under compulsion) as a lever
for getting rid of him. And this knowledge was perhaps the worst of his
shame. Yet what could he do? since to surrender Langona was to starve.
"Your Parson might at least make a beginning," pursued the tourist.
"A box, now, inviting donations--that would cost nothing, and might
relieve a visitor here and there of a spare sovereign. He could put up
a second box for himself: it's quite a usual thing in churches when the
parish priest is poor. You might make the suggestion, if he's not too
proud."

"I will," said Parson Jack, and after the tourist had gone he thought
much of these two boxes. Indeed, he made and fixed up the first that
same week, though he labelled it "For Church Repairs," fighting shy of
"Restoration" as too magniloquent. The second cost him long searchings
of heart, and he walked over and laid the case before Parson Kendall,
Rector of the near parish of St. Cadox, a good Christian and a good
fellow, with whom he sometimes smoked a pipe. "Why not?" answered
Parson Kendall; "it's the most ordinary thing in the world." "But Sir
Harry may not like it." The Rector chuckled. "If he doesn't, he'll
consult me; and I shall ask him why he hunts a pack by subscription."

So the second box was nailed beside the first, and excited little
discussion. Indeed, the pair hung in so obscure a corner--behind the
font--that at the first service only Parson Jack and the W