pounds apiece for houses which
did not cost above six hundred each to build," said Mr. Thorne of
Ullathorne, with that seeming dislike of modern success which is
evinced by most of the elders of the world.

"And who is to live in them?" asked Mrs. Grantly.

"Two of them have been already taken by clergymen," said the bishop,
in a tone of triumph.

"Yes," said the archdeacon, "and the houses in the Close which used
to be the residences of the prebendaries have been leased out to
tallow-chandlers and retired brewers. That comes of the working of
the Ecclesiastical Commission."

"And why not?" demanded Mrs. Proudie.

"Why not, indeed, if you like to have tallow-chandlers next door to
you?" said the archdeacon. "In the old days, we would sooner have had
our brethren near to us."

"There is nothing, Dr. Grantly, so objectionable in a cathedral town
as a lot of idle clergymen," said Mrs. Proudie.

"It is beginning to be a question to me," said the archdeacon,
"whether there is any use in clergymen at all for the present
generation."

"Dr. Grantly, those cannot be your real sentiments," said Mrs. Proudie.
Then Mrs. Grantly, working hard in her vocation as a peacemaker,
changed the conversation again and began to talk of the American war.
But even that was made a matter of discord on church matters,--the
archdeacon professing an opinion that the Southerners were Christian
gentlemen, and the Northerners infidel snobs; whereas Mrs. Proudie
had an idea that the Gospel was preached with genuine zeal in the
Northern States. And at each such outbreak the poor bishop would
laugh uneasily, and say a word or two to which no one paid much
attention. And so the dinner went on, not always in the most pleasant
manner for those who preferred continued social good-humour to the
occasional excitement of a half-suppressed battle.

Not a word was said about Mr. Crawley. When Mrs. Proudie and the ladies
left the dining-room, the bishop strove to get up a little lay
conversation. He spoke to Mr. Thorne about his game, and to Dr. Thorne
about his timber, and even to Mr. Gresham about his hounds. "It is
not so very many years, Mr. Gresham," said he, "since the Bishop of
Barchester was expected to keep hounds himself," and the bishop
laughed at his own joke.

"Your lordship shall have them back at the palace next season," said
young Frank Gresham, "if you will promise to do the county justice."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the bishop. "What