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only chance,” he said. “The case as it stands is maddening. For a successful painter, sculptor, musician, author, who takes society by storm, it ia no drawback; it is eometimes even a romantic recommendation to hail from outcasts and profligates. But for a clergyman of the Church of England! Cornelius, it is fatal! To succeed in the Church, people must believe in you, first of all, as a gentleman, secondly as a man of means, thirdly as a acholar, fourthly as a preacher, fifthly perhaps aa s Christian—but always first as a gentleman, with all their heart and soul and strength. I would have faced the fact of being a small machinist’s son, and have taken my chance, if he’d been in any sense respectable and decent. The essence of: Chris- tianity is humility, and by the help of God I would have brazened it out, But this terrible vagabondage and disreputable connection! If he does not accept my terms and leave the country, it will extinguish us and killme. For how can we live and relinquish our high aim and bring down our dear sister Rosa to the level of a gypsy’s atep-daughter ?”

There was excitement in the parish of Narrobourne one day. The congregation had just come ont from morning service, and the whole converration was of the new curate, Mr. Halborough, who had officiated for the first time, in the absence of the rector.

Never before had the feeling of the villagera approached a level which could be ealled excitement on such a matter as this. The droning which had been the rule in that quiet old place for a century seemed ended at last. They repeated the text to each other