who saw his brother ignorant and did not
teach him, idle, and did not give him work:
who, when he asked for bread in the shape of
instruction, gave him a stone in the shape of
the treadmill. Then he added in a whisper,—
for the communication was too awful to be
conveyed in his ordinary tone of voice—he is
by no means sound about Satan. This was a
settler. It was seen at once that a man
might be unsound on many subjects, and
yet be orthodox enough; but unsoundness in
this was an overthrow of the Christian faith
altogether. So the belief gradually spread
that Mr. Wicket was a confirmed atheist,
and worshipped the devil. Such a hubbub
was never known. There was a complete cut
between almost every two people in the parish.
Mr. Jollico couldn't collect above eight or
nine people to his nicest dinners. Charlie
Baskins, when he came home on leave, was
not admitted at Mr. Jells', when he called.
And Mr. Jefferson Smith, who let the
ornamented cottage, intended for the rector, for
thirty pounds a-year, said it was intolerable
that a parish should suffer such an infliction,
and if the living were vacant, he should know
what to do.

Strangely enough the living became
vacant very soon. Mr. Wicket grew tired of
so much opposition as he experienced, and
resigned the rectory to go abroad. Mr.
Jefferson Smith was now in supreme delight,
—he sat for hours in front of his door, and
peeled sticks with a bowie-knife, and spat at
marks on the drive. He said he would
gratify the parish with a gentleman who would
put everything straight. He would have
none of your Ichs or objectivities. He had
taken the precaution to sell the next presentation
to a society whose whole object it was
to introduce real Christianity into a
benighted land. So there came down a very
little stout man, with a very bald head, and
very short neck. A low brow corrugated
itself in wavy folds, while his cheeks filled
themselves with a great sound, and collapsed
at each sentence like a broken bellows. Short
bandy legs scarcely sufficed to support the
weight of his rotund and shapeless body. He
was married, and had many children. His
wife, a thin, cadaverous person of fifty years
of age; his children, sleek-haired, dirty-
handed, short-jacketted little fellows, with
red hair, and flat-topped heads. And again
hope revived in the parish, for Mr. Howligin
was said to be a surprising orator, and did
not understand a word of any language but
his own—a phenomenon of self-culture.
Originally designed for a tailor, but with an
indomitable ambition to teach everybody he
came in contact with, he had offended his
master by dogmatising on the shape of
trousers, and after many years' steady
perseverance, had pushed himself up to his present
station, by loudness of voice, and a perfect
Niagara of words, over which, as in the real
waterfall, hung a perpetual mist through
which it was impossible to see. ''I have been
in Plymouth Dockyard,'' said Mr. Jollico,
"and I have noticed the skulls of the culprits
with much attention. This man looks like a
convict with a call; which many of them
have, by the bye, to the great delight of the
chaplains, and the easy obtaining of tickets
of leave. He has the criminal development
very strong, and I should fear will murder
some of us soon, or die of delirium tremens."

He die of delirium tremens! The last
man in the world to do any such thing. He
must have had a constitution of iron. In his
very first sermon he told us he had at one
time been the greatest rascal, without any
exception, who ever escaped the gallows by
the blindness of the law. For many years
he had been a confirmed drunkard. He had
broken every commandment every day of his
life. He had never seen money without
wishing to steal it; nor a woman of any
kind without wishing to insult her; nor
seen a neighbour in distress without wishing
to increase his sufferings. He had never
received a favour without wishing to injure
his benefactor. He had never answered a
question without telling a lie. He had never
had a dinner given him without eating till
he could eat no more. Murder he had not
risen to, but it was only through fear of the
law. Forgery he had not attempted, for he
was afraid of discovery; but both murder
and forgery he would have gloried in
committing for his heart was in a state of
nature. So were all our hearts. "You would
all rob, and slay, and cheat if you dared!
Don't try to deceive me; my feelings once
were what yours now are. You are all
murderers, thieves, assassins, liars, drunkards. I
know it—for wasn't I once all these things.
And don't go plastering over your iniquities
with what is called politeness. I had no politeness,
even when I was the ruffian you are.
Don't go and say to each other,—'My
respected friend do so and so,' but say—
'Unconvicted swindler, undetected murderer,
unexposed forger, do so and so.' That's
how you ought to speak to each other; that's
how the angels look upon every one of you;
that's how they would once have been justified
in looking on me! Go home then," he
said, after his "finally, and in conclusion"
had been repeated two or three times, "Go
home, and be sure there is one man in the
parish who knows your hearts better than
you do yourselves; for I have nothing to do
but study my own. Don't I see in it all the
vices it is possible to name?—and isn't it a
human heart?"

"I should say not," said Mr. Jollico, as we
walked home, "I should think it is the very
lowest stage of animal development prior
even to the silurian remains. In fact, I should
say you had no heart at all, but that you
were a sort of polyp, consisting of a stomach
and a mouth. I will show you some fossilised
specimens of the family," he added, "when