en the faintest attempt at any actual expression. They were more
like glass beads than eyes, and glittered under their scanty fringe of
pale-colored lashes with a sort of shallow cunning which might mean
malice or good-humor,--no one looking at them could precisely determine
which. His hair was of an indefinite shade, neither light nor dark,
somewhat of the tinge of a dusty potato before it is washed clean. It
was neatly brushed and parted in the middle with mathematical precision,
while from the back of his head it was brought forward in two
projections, one on each side, like budding wings behind his ears. It
was impossible for the most fastidious critic to find fault with the
Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy's hands. He had beautiful hands, white, soft,
plump and well-shaped,--his delicate filbert nails were trimmed with
punctilious care, and shone with a pink lustre that was positively
charming. He was evidently an amiable man, for he smiled to himself over
his tea,--he had a trick of smiling,--ill-natured people said he did it
on purpose, in order to widen his mouth and make it more in pro-portion
to the size of his face. Such remarks, however, emanated only from the
spiteful and envious who could not succeed in winning the social
popularity that everywhere attended Mr. Dyceworthy's movements. For he
was undoubtedly popular,--no one could deny that. In the small Yorkshire
town where he usually had his abode, he came little short of being
adored by the women of his own particular sect, who crowded to listen to
his fervent discourses, and came away from them on the verge of
hysteria, so profoundly moved were their sensitive souls by his
damnatory doctrines. The men were more reluctant in their admiration,
yet even they were always ready to admit "that he was an excellent
fellow, with his heart in the right place."

He had a convenient way of getting ill at the proper seasons, and of
requiring immediate change of air, whereupon his grateful flock were
ready and willing to subscribe the money necessary for their beloved
preacher to take repose and relaxation in any part of the world he
chose. This year, however, they had not been asked to furnish the usual
funds for travelling expenses, for the resident minister of Bosekop, a
frail, gentle old man, had been seriously prostrated during the past
winter with an affection of the lungs, which necessitated his going to a
different climate for change and rest. Knowing Dyceworthy as a z