ergyman--I wish very much to be one--there is
not such another happy life. I was just thinking, Meredith, when you
spoke to me, of a verse we read yesterday morning, which quite expresses
my feelings: 'One thing have I desired of the Lord which I will seek
after, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
to behold the fair beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in His temple.'"

Meredith looked with some surprise at Louis, and as they moved on he
said carelessly, "I suppose somebody will have the gratification of
beholding me in a long gown some day, holding forth for the edification
of my devoted flock."

"Are you going to be a clergyman?" asked Louis.

"Yes, I suppose I must. Don't you think I shall be a most
useful character?"

"Oh! surely you wish it, do you not?"

"Well, I don't much mind," replied Meredith, snatching a handful of
leaves from the hedge near him; "I shall have a nice fat living, and
it's a respectable kind of thing."

Louis was horror-struck--he had not imagined such an idea--he almost
gasped out, "Oh! Meredith, I can hardly understand you. Surely that is
not your only wish about it: that cannot be a reason--not a right one."

"Why, what's the harm?" said Meredith, laughing. "I only say outright
what hundreds think. If I could choose, perhaps I might like the army
best, but my father has a comfortable provision in the church for me,
and so I, like a dutiful son, don't demur, especially as, if I follow
the example of my predecessor, it will be vastly more easy than a
soldier's life."

"Meredith, Meredith, this is too solemn a thing to laugh about. I have
often wondered how it is there are clergymen who can take their duties
so easily as some do; but if they only undertake them for your reasons,
I cannot feel so much surprised that they should be so careless. How
can you expect any happiness from such a life! I should be afraid to
talk so."

Meredith stared contemptuously. "You are a Methodist, Louis," he said;
"I have no doubt I shall preach as good sermons as you: just put on a
grave face, and use a set of tender phrases, and wear a brilliant on
your little finger, and a curly head, and there you are a fashionable
preacher at once--and if you use your white pocket-handkerchief
occasionally, throw your arms about a little, look as if you intended
to tumble over the pulpit and embrace the congregation, and dose your
audience with a little pathos, you may draw crowds--th