an evil hour
for myself he was introduced to me by a clergyman of my acquaintance, and
from that time I have been pestered, as I was this morning, at least once
a week. I seldom enter into any discussion with him, but fix my eyes on
the portrait over the mantelpiece, and endeavour to conjure up some comic
idea or situation, whilst he goes on talking tomfoolery by the hour about
Church authority, schismatics, and the unlawfulness of sacerdotal
wedlock; occasionally he brings with him a strange kind of being, whose
acquaintance he says he made in Italy; I believe he is some sharking
priest who has come over to proselytise and plunder. This being has some
powers of conversation and some learning, but carries the countenance of
an arch villain; Platitude is evidently his tool.'

'Of what religion are you?' said I to my host.

'That of the Vicar of Wakefield--good, quiet, Church of England, which
would live and let live, practises charity, and rails at no one; where
the priest is the husband of one wife, takes care of his family and his
parish--such is the religion for me, though I confess I have hitherto
thought too little of religious matters. When, however, I have completed
this plaguy work on which I am engaged, I hope to be able to devote more
attention to them.'

After some further conversation, the subjects being, if I remember right,
college education, priggism, church authority, tomfoolery, and the like,
I rose and said to my host, 'I must now leave you.'

'Whither are you going?'

'I do not know.'

'Stay here, then--you shall be welcome as many days, months, and years as
you please to stay.'

'Do you think I would hang upon another man? No, not if he were Emperor
of all the Chinas. I will now make my preparations, and then bid you
farewell.'

I retired to my apartment and collected the handful of things which I
carried with me on my travels.

'I will walk a little way with you,' said my friend on my return.

He walked with me to the park gate; neither of us said anything by the
way. When we had come upon the road, I said, 'Farewell now; I will not
permit you to give yourself any further trouble on my account. Receive
my best thanks for your kindness; before we part, however, I should wish
to ask you a question. Do you think you shall ever grow tired of
authorship?'

'I have my fears,' said my friend, advancing his hand to one of the iron
bars of the gate.

'Don't touch,' said I, 'it is a ba