part of the reason for the bluntness of his
moral sense.

But, for all this, when, on his last Sunday,
he had the arrogant impertinence to preach a
Farewell Sermon, after only a few months'
residence in the parish where he had made
so much noise, and done so little good, those
absurd Miss Wheatears (to all and each
of whom he had, at different times, paid
marked attention, if not proposed, as was
his wont to almost every young lady that
he met) displayed their pocket-handkerchiefs
so ostentatiously, and sobbed so loudly,
that, for the moment, I wished myself a
beadle or a churchwarden, that I might turn
them out.

In this farewell sermon Mr. Soundwell
made the most affecting allusions to the little
ones of Lightlands, the children of the Sunday
School. So much so, that even I might
have been moved to something nearer tears
than I was, if I had not well known that
the school, although he had talked a great
deal about it, he had culpably neglected.
The sermon wound up with a harrowing
description of the sinful, unawakened state in
which he had found Lightlands, and the
comparatively blessed state in which he left
it. Also of the wretchedness of his feelings
in being no longer permitted, owing to
circumstances over which he had no control,
to labour further among the inhabitants
for their improvement and conversion. But
wherever he might go, and whatever might
befall him, Lightlands would ever be present
to his tearful remembrance. He eventually
took care that Lightlands should return the
compliment, for some of his debts he has never
paid to this day.

But to turn from Curates to Cooks:

Mary Ann Mummery, Susan Sloe, Kezia
Trusty—all these young women came to
me with the highest testimonials to
character; and to all I eventually gave a
month's wages, rather than have them stay
out their month of warning. Yet I pledge
my word of honour that I am not a hard
mistress. Neither Mary Ann Mummery,
Susan Sloe, nor Kezia Trusty, however,
were represented as attaining unto the height
of culinary acquirements, and valuable moral
qualities, set forth in the super-excellent
character which I received with Matilda
Kitchener. I obtained this apparent treasure
from an application at the Registry Office of
a certain Mrs. Placeman; who, after dazzling
my mind with an account of all the virtues
to be had for fourteen pounds a-year, exclusive
of tea, sugar, and washing (Matilda's
lowest terms), and seeing me waver, said
(quoting from the character), "For fancy
bread and biscuits, and making pastry,
Matilda Kitchener is unequalled."

Now, we neither of us cared excessively for
fancy bread, biscuits, nor pastry, so I was still
undecided; principally, I own, on account of
the washing, which was an unusual item
of allowance to any but nursery maids in
our house. The fact of my being a clergyman's
wife suddenly ocurred to Mrs. Placeman:
So she said clinchingly, "And besides
ma'am, Matilda's mistress says that she is
rather pious."

I must say that I should have preferred
her piety to have been unqualified, but I
reflected that almost everything in this world
is of a mixed nature; and, tired out with
inquiries, and a six weeks' presidency in my
kitchen of an old woman who persistently
turned a deaf ear to all my directions, and
consequently spoiled my husband's dinner
every day, I came to terms; and  Matilda
Kitchener was to supersede the deaf incorrigible
in the culinary department of Lightlands
Rectory on that day fortnight. Turning
to leave the office, with a lingering
doubt in my mind, engendered by the last
point of recommendation of the admirable
Matilda, with regard to her being rather
pious, I asked Mrs. Placeman if she knew
why such a paragon had been suffered to leave
her appreciative mistress? Receiving a
reply in the negative, I took down that lady's
address, determined to investigate the matter,
and, at the same time, to inquire whether it
was a bonâ fide character which proported to
have been givem by that lady of Matilda
Kitchener. The result of all this was perfectly
satisfactory; for Mrs Chappell, the lady in
question, acknowledged the authenticity of
the character in every respect. Hence it may
be easily supposed that I looked forward to
my new cook's arrival, and my consequent
release from the overdone and underdone
varieties in cookery of the wilful substitute,
with the most pleasurable of feelings. Alas,
how unstable are all human expectations,
even when we seem to have fair ground for
trust that they may be realised!

I don't mean to say, that Matilda Kitchener
would not have answered the wildest
anticipations of the most fastidious connoisseur
in regard of fancy bread, biscuits, and pastry.
But her proficiency in the manufacture of
those delicacies was the one matter in which
she justified her excellent character. Indeed
she would hardly do anything else but
make fancy bread, biscuits, and pastry, from
Monday morning till Saturday night. In
vain I told her that we did not care for them,
and could not get through such quantities as
daily issued from the oven. She gloomily
replied, that they were eaten; which was
an undeniable fact. I believe they constituted
her own main articles of consumption, and
that they accounted for her puffy figure and
highly glazed countenance. Yet honesty and
a proper regard for economy had been named
among her most prominent characteristics.
Her temper, too, in that brilliant list had
been sweetly conspicuous. But the breezes
which frequently blew from the kitchen
quarter, straight down our little hall when
the dining-room door was open, were