ndered at. A single
muddy road runs through Fuzby. Except along this road--muddy and rutty
in winter, dusty and rutty in summer--no walk is to be had. The fields
are all more or less impassable with ditches and bogs. Kenrick had
christened it "The Dreary Swamp." Nothing in the shape of a view is to
be found anywhere, and barely a single flower will deign to grow. The
air is unhealthy with moisture, and the only element to be had there in
perfection is earth.

All this, Kenrick's father--who had been curate of the village--had
fancied would be at least endurable to any man upheld by a strong sense
of duty. So when he had married, and had received the gift of a house
in the village, he took thither his young and beautiful bride, intending
there to live and work until something better could be obtained. He was
right. Over the mere disadvantages of situation he might easily have
triumphed, and he might have secured there, under different
circumstances, a fair share of happiness, which lies in ourselves and
not in the localities in which we live. But in making his calculation
he had always assumed that it would be easy to get on with the
inhabitants of Fuzby; and here lay his mistake.

The Vicar of Fuzby, a non-resident pluralist, only appeared at rare
intervals to receive the adoration which his flock never refused to any
one who was wealthy. His curate, having a very slender income, came in
for no share at all of this respect. On the contrary, the whole
population assumed a right to patronise him, to interfere with him, to
annoy and to thwart him. There was at Fuzby one squire--a rich farmer,
coarse, ignorant, and brutal. This man, being the richest person in the
parish, generally carried everything in his own way, and among other
attempts to imitate the absurdities of his superiors, had ordered the
sexton never to cease ringing the church-bell, however late, until he
and his family had taken their seats. A very few Sundays after Mr
Kenrick's arrival the bell was still ringing eight minutes after the
time for morning service, and sending to desire the sexton to leave off,
he received the message that--

"Mr Hugginson hadn't come yet."

"I will not have the congregation kept waiting for Mr Hugginson or any
one else," said the curate.

"O zurr, the zervus haint begun afore Muster Hugginson has come in this
ten year."

"Then the sooner Mr Hugginson is made to understand that the hours of
service are not