At length those people who were not afraid
of the rector, broke out into open complaints;
and angry vestry-meetings, at which the
curate never made his appearance, roused a
turmoil almost unknown within the memory
of the oldest Tittlebatingtonian. The rector
was much too indolent to interfere, and too
haughty to listen to the complaints of laymen;
but feeling that he must do his duty, he came
down from St. Alfred's, and preached a severe
sermon against schism, heresy, and private
judgment. This made matters worse.

It must not be supposed that the Reverend
Arthur de Notre Dame was not conscientious
in much that he did. Possessed of some
moderate property, he was in reality spending
more money in works of charity and church
decoration than he derived from his stipend.
But there was a cold repulsiveness in his
manner, a strong pertinacity, which, while it
disdained to give reasons, gave decided offence.
The numerous clergy who frequently visited
and officiated for him were of the same stamp;
there was little conciliation in their language
or manner; and what there was, was too
evidently artificial and constrained to be
agreeable. Without giving himself a
moment's rest, the Reverend Arthur de Notre
Dame did his duty so fully, that the
congregation began to look thinner and thinner
every day. A few vehement sermons, in
which excommunication was more than hinted
at, and a constant adaptation of Popish
language in speaking of ritual-makers in short,
an obvious determination to say and do odd
things for opposition's sake, confirmed all the
doubts, fears, and surmises of the most Low
Church party among the Tittlebatingtonians.

Chapels of a Dissenting character began to
number many new faces among their
congregations. A popular London platform speaker
came down, and lectured upon " The Pope the
true Antichrist," at the Town Hall; and an
enthusastic haberdasher, who was chief deacon
of the King Street Meeting-house, published
"Groans from the Grave of John Huss."
Finally, the drunken part of the community,
who never went near a church, and whose
only religion was a free use of oaths, wrote
"No Popery!" "No Puseyism!" "Down with
the Pope! " and other similar sentiments,
often less delicately expressed, upon every dead
wall, door, scaffolding and enclosure throughout
Tittlebatington.

Mr. Arthur de Notre Dame had learning
enough to render him tolerably self-confident,
and religion enough to make him earnest and
uncompromising; but of the solid good sense,
derived from mingling with others than the
merely scholastic, he had little; and in that
modest self-diffidence which might have
conciliated even the refractory, he was utterly
deficient. His parishioners spoke for the
Bible; he spoke only of the Church: the
Bible was only to be received in the qualified
sense assigned to it by certain saints of
antiquity, many of whom were incapable of
reading it in the original language. It seemed
to be his perpetual delight to use Popish
phraseology, to dwell upon expressions likely
to offend, rather than allay, the prejudices
of his hearers; and he, at length, openly
professed his opinion, that, in matters of
doubt, Rome was the most natural court of
appeal.

The patronage of a few persons, whose
vanity or fears had been interested, proved
insufficient to withstand the growing current
of popular disapprobation. Mr. Arthur de
Notre Dame threw up his curacy in disgust;
and, having preached a sermon highly redolent
of mock martyrdom and but doubtful
charity, joined two of his clerical companions
in a visit to Rome for the purpose of having
his doubts set at rest.

Several heroic young ladies said the Reverend
Arthur de Notre Dame had been hunted
out of the parish: a few wise old ones rejoiced
in the comfort of going to church, and hearing
and understanding, as they had done formerly.
Mr. Churchwarden Moggs felt as if he
was somebody once more; and Dr. lodyne
Wilks, M.R.C.P., invited Mr. Potash, M.R.C.S.,
to a quiet chop, to discuss parochial matters,
to condemn the rabid orthodoxy of Oxford,
and the cheap fallacies of homœopathy.

A few years went by, a few curates made
themselves unpopular by following the
example of their predecessor. Indolence and
good living took the Reverend the Professor
of Cingalese from the easy cares of this world
to a more anxious reckoning in the next.
The regrets which followed him were solely
those of his own family, who lamented their
now limited means and reduced establishment.

Joyful circumstance! Mr. Burchell came,
and came as their rector. Everybody was
delighted, for he was but little changed since
they had known him when a curate. He had
mingled more with the world; was perhaps
more active and energetic; but that was the
only change. He preached for all, and against
no one. As he had made no changes himself, so
he made no violent reforms, in order to throw
contempt upon his predecessors. The young
ladies of Crucifix House had the satisfaction
of seeing their altar cloth and carpet remain
untouched; but the candlesticks on the altar,
which answered no purpose, were summarily
removed. Mr. Moggs was sociably consulted
as to enlarging the parochial school; and
forthwith gave ten pounds to further that
object. So great was the unanimity which
ensued, that Doctor lodyne Wilks
volunteered his gratuitous services as consulting
physician to a rapidly-forming Dispensary,
provided Mr. Potash was appointed surgeon.
The organist and charity children again rejoice
in short metre; the service is no longer
"intoned"; the bell, except before the regular
services, is silenced; and Mrs. Moggs sleeps
in peace till a late breakfast hour every
morning.