, I had a strong interest in the new rector. His
Christian name was the same as my own, which I felt to constitute a
sort of connection; and the tales I had heard in the village of his
peculiarities had woven a sort of ecclesiastical romance about him in
my mind. He had come from some out-of-the-way parish in the west of
England, where his people, being thoroughly used to his ways, took
them as a matter of course. It was his scrupulous custom to conform as
minutely as possible to the canons of the Church, as well as to the
rubrics of the Prayer Book, and this to the point of wearing shoes
instead of boots. He was a learned man, a naturalist, and an
antiquarian. His appearance was remarkable, his hair being prematurely
white, and yet thick, his eyes grey and expressive, with thick dark
eyebrows, which actually met above them. For the rest, he was tall,
thin, and dressed in obedience to the canons. I had been much
interested in all that I had heard of him, and since my illness I had
often thought of the unqualified note of praise I had heard sounded in
his favour by more than one village matron, "He's beautiful in a
sick-room." It was on one occasion when I heard this that I also heard
that he was accustomed on entering the house to pronounce the
appointed salutation, in the words of the Prayer Book, "Peace be to
this house, and to all that dwell in it." And so it came about that,
when my importunity and anxiety on the subject had overcome the
scruples of my father and nurse, and they had decided to let me have
my way rather than increase my malady by fretting, the new rector came
into my room, and my first eager question was, "Did you say
that--about Peace, you know--when you came in?"

"I did," said the rector; and as he spoke one of his merits became
obvious. He had a most pleasing voice.

"Say it again!" I cried, petulantly.

"Peace be to this house, and to all that dwell in it," he repeated
slowly, and with slightly upraised hand.

"That's Rubens and all," was my comment.

As I wished, the rector prayed by my bedside; and I think he must have
been rather astonished by the fact that at points which struck me I
rather groaned than said, "Amen." The truth is, I had once happened to
go into a cottage where our old rector was praying by the bed of a
sick old man--a Methodist--who groaned "Amen" at certain points in a
manner which greatly impressed me, and I now did likewise, in that
imitativeness of childhood which