interest in all the pictures I can show them of
the Royal family."

"But, madam, I think of something higher
than any earthly dignities."

My lady coloured at the mistake she had
made; for she herself was truly pious. Yet
when she resumed the subject, it seemed to
me as if her tone was a little sharper than
before.

"Such want of reverence is, I should say,
the clergyman's fault. You must excuse me,
Mr. Gray, if I speak plainly."

"My lady, I want plain-speaking. I
myself am not accustomed to those ceremonies
and forms which are, I suppose, the etiquette
in your ladyship's rank of life, and which
seem to hedge you in from any power of
mine to touch you. Among those with whom
I have passed my life hitherto it has been
the custom to speak plainly out what we
have felt earnestly. So, instead of needing
any apology from your ladyship for straightforward
speaking, I will meet what you say
at once, and say that it is the clergyman's
fault in a great measure when the children
of his parish swear, and curse, and are brutal
and ignorant of all saving grace; nay, some
of them of the very name of God. And
because this guilt of mine, as the clergyman of
this parish, lies heavy on my soul, and every
day leads but from bad to worse, till I am
utterly bewildered how to do good to children
who escape from me as if I were a monster,
and who are growing up to be men fit for
and capable of any crime, but those requiring
wit or sense, I come to you, who seem to me
all-powerful as far as material power goes—
for your ladyship only knows the surface of
things, and barely that, that pass in your
village—to help me with advice, and such
outward help as you can give."

Mr. Gray had stood up and sate down once
or twice while he had been speaking, in an
agitated, nervous kind of way, and now he
was interrupted by a violent fit of coughing,
after which he trembled all over.

My lady rang for a glass of water, and
looked much distressed.

"Mr. Gray," said she, "I am sure you are
not well; and that makes you exaggerate
childish faults into positive evils. It is
always the case with us when we are not
strong in health. I hear of you exerting
yourself in every direction: you over-work
yourself, and the consequence is, that you
imagine us all worse people than we are."

And my lady smiled very kindly and
pleasantly at him, as he sate, a little panting, a
little flushed, trying to recover his breath.
I am sure that now they were brought face
to face, she had quite forgotten all the offence
she had taken at his doings when she heard
of them from others; and, indeed, it was
enough to soften any one's heart to see that
young, almost boyish face, looking in such
anxiety and distress.

"O, my lady, what shall I do?" he asked,
as soon as he could recover breath, and with
such an air of humility that I am sure no one
who had seen it could have ever thought him
conceited again. "The evil of this world is
too strong for me. I can do so little. It is
all in vain. It was only to-day——" And
again the cough and agitation returned.

"My dear Mr. Gray," said my lady (the
day before, I could never have believed she
could have called him My dear"), "you must
take the advice of an old woman about
yourself. You are not fit to do anything just
now but attend to your own health: rest,
and see a doctor (but, indeed, I will take
care of that), and when you are pretty strong
again, you will find that you have been
magnifying evils to yourself."

"But, my lady, I cannot rest. The evils
do exist, and the burden of their continuance
lies on my shoulders. I have no place to
gather the children together in, that I may
teach them the things necessary to salvation.
The rooms in my own house are too small;
but I have tried them. I have money of my
own; and, as your ladyship knows, I tried
to get a piece of leasehold property on which
to build a school-house at my own expense.
Your ladyship's lawyer comes forward at
your instructions to enforce some old feudal
right, by which no building is allowed on
leasehold property without the sanction of
the Lady of the Manor. It may be all very
true; but it was a cruel thing to do,—that
is, if your ladyship had known (which I am
sure you do not) the real spiritual and moral
state of my poor parishioners. And now I
come to you to know what I am to do?
Rest! I cannot rest, while children whom I
could possibly save are being left in their
ignorance, their blasphemy, their uncleanness,
their cruelty. It is known through the
village that your ladyship disapproves of my
efforts, and opposes all my plans. If you
think them wrong, foolish, ill-digested (I
have been a student, living in a college, and
eschewing all society but that of pious men,
until now: I may not judge for the best, in
my ignorance of this sinful human nature),
tell me of better plans and wiser projects for
accomplishing my end; but do not bid me
rest, with Satan compassing me round, and
stealing souls away."

"Mr. Gray," said my lady, "there may be
some truth in what you have said. I do not
deny it, though I think, in your present
state of indisposition and excitement, you
exaggerate it much. I believe—nay, the
experience of a pretty long life has convinced
me—that education is a bad thing, if given
indiscriminately. It unfits the lower orders
for their duties, the duties to which they are
called by God, of submission to those placed
in authority over them, of contentment with
that state of life to which it has pleased God
to call them, and of ordering themselves lowly
and reverently to all their betters. I have
made this conviction of mine tolerably