itive in size, and form, and
service. The rector is well-meaning, but decidedly Low. The curate is
unmeaning, and abominably slow. The clerk does a great part of the
duty.

He is an old man, and regarded rather in the light of an institution in
this part of the county. Being stone deaf, he puts in the responses
anyhow, always in the wrong place, and never finds out his mistake
until he sees the clergyman's lips set firm, and on his face a look of
patient expectation, when he coughs apologetically, and says them all
over again.

There is an "Amen" in the middle of every prayer, and then one at the
end. This gives him double trouble, and makes him draw his salary with
a clear conscience. It also creates a lively time for the
school-children, who once at least on every Sunday give way to a loud
burst of merriment, and are only restored to a sense of duty by a
severe blow administered by the sandy-haired teacher.

It is a good old-fashioned church too, where the sides of the pews are
so high that one can with difficulty look over them, and where the
affluent man can have a real fire-place all to himself, with a real
poker and tongs and shovel to incite it to a blaze every now and again.

Here, too, without rebuke the neighbors can seize the opportunity of
conversing with each other across the pews, by standing on tiptoe, when
occasion offers during the service, as, for instance, when the poor-box
is going round. And it _is_ a poor-box, and no mistake,--flat,
broad, and undeniable pewter, at which the dainty bags of a city chapel
would have blushed with shame.

When the clergyman goes into the pulpit every one instantly blows his
or her nose, and coughs his or her loudest before the text is given
out, under a mistaken impression that they can get it all over at once,
and not have to do it at intervals further on. This is a compliment to
the clergyman, expressing their intention of hearing him undisturbed to
the end, and, I suppose, is received as such.

It is an attentive congregation,--dangerously so, for what man but
blunders in his sermon now and then? And who likes being twitted on
week-days for opinions expressed on Sundays, more especially if he has
not altogether acted up to them! It is a suspicious congregation too
(though perhaps not singularly so, for I have perceived others do the
same), because whenever their priest names a chapter and verse for any
text he may choose to insert in his discourse, instantly