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A PASSAGE FROM MODERN HISTORY. As Juhn Bustle was walking , man) with an eye of admiring pa home one Sunday from the Meeting tronage. House, he was accosted by a neigh- “ But now, what shall we do? bour of the same way of thinking There can be no doubt of the truth as himself, who asked him whether of the report, for I myself listened he had heard the news.
in the Church porch this morning “No,” said John; “ good Mr. for three minutes, while he was Knocks has just been telling us that preaching, and heard him say, 'All weought not to hearken after worldly good persons require what help news on the Sabbath day."
their neighbours can give them, “But, neighbour Bustle," said to make their calling and election Mr. Whiteybrown (for that was sure.'
And one of our people, the other gentleman's name), “this walking behind him yesterday, is not worldly news, for it concerns heard him say, 'If I were one of the Church—-I mean our Church, them, I should certainly vote for very particularly.”
that preacher who is most of WilWell, teil it me,” said John, son's mind,' meaning, no doubt, the “and when I have heard it, I will | Mr. Wilson who is spoken of as tell you whether I think it right likely to come to our chapel.” for you to talk about it.”
“ To be sure, to be sure,” said Why they do say, Mr. Bustle," Bustle, in a great bustle, “and we replied Whiteybrown (who was must lose no time in teaching him evidentiy boiling over with what the rights of the matter. Here, he had to relate), " they do say that Bob Radd,” he added, calling to a the Church parson here is meddling rough looking youth who was and fidgetting about our election." sauntering past them at the time; (For it chanced just then that there and up came Bob, touching his hat, was a report of Mr. Knocks going but with a sly look, which seemed away to be minister to a congrega- to imply, “I know you well tion of rank in London, and so the enough :” and Mr. Bustle, stooping Meeting House at Bowbourne was down, spoke into his ear a good likely to want a new preacher, and many words, among which a byeseveral candidates were already stander might have caught what talked of.)
sounded ke-“to night-a tar“About our election !” said John. barrel-Guy Fawkes-close to his “Surely that is quite unconstitu- | door-promise not to meddle or tional, quite tyrannical, for one of make with the chapel-half-pence another denomination, especially a and drink - depend upon us.” parson, to interfere in our internal “Very well,” said Bob, whose proceedings :” and so saying, he demure look was now changed into stood still, iooking very bold indeed, a broad grin; and with that he with his right arm a-kimbo, and the struck off across the Common, to back of his left hand pressed against where the idlers of the parish were his body behind his coat tail, as playing: and Messrs. Bustle and one who should say, “I have not Whitey brown went their way, lookread the newspapers for nothing." ing as if butter would not melt in
" Ah, I knew that would be your their mouths. mind,” said his friend, looking down That night, Mr. Gray, the Curate, upon him (for he was a much taller | having gone to bed rather earlier
than usual (for he was quite tired to Mr. Gray with a regular speech, out with his day's work) was loud enough to be heard all over roused after half an hour's sleep by the village green; and the mob, a loud shout and a bright blaze; | like a good and dutiful mob, made and, looking out of his window, he answer and shouted just where Jobu saw by the light of a bonfire a lot intended they should, with a little of the most dissolute young fellows prompting from Mr. Temps. in the parish-among whom Bob The upshot of it all was, that Radd was very forward-preparing besides many things which Mr. a figure with a cap and gown on, to Gray, said and did in his Church be burned in due form and order. which John and the rest did not Moreover, being a quick-sighted approve of, he had been interfering, man, Mr. Gray did not fail to dis- so they said, with the forthcoming tinguish two more, staid and sober election in their Chapel, and if he figures, who rather hung back, and did not let that alone, they would tried to keep in the shade, the one treat him with the same or similar tall and the other short; but their compliments every night of his life. very endeavour to shrink out of It would be too long a story to tell, notice, made them in some sort how Mr. Gray, by his patience and more noticeable by an observant good humour, quieted them all, at eye, especially as they could not least so far that they agreed to hear keep from rubbing their hands him while he told them the truth eagerly, and showing other marks about his alleged meddling in their of approbation at so edifying a election, “For as to the other
In less than five minutes things,” said he, “this is not the Mr. Gray was dressed and among place to talk of them; and besides, the people, and taking no notice for many of you, my good neighbours, the present of any one else, he made have nothing at all to do with them, for the spot where our two friends, since you do not come to the John and Mr. Whiteybrown, had Church at all: but I own, Mr. been standing, and managed to Bustle, that it would have been a overtake and detain them, very much strange and wrong thing had I at against their will.
all interfered with the business of “Well, gentlemen," said Mr. your congregation; and, therefore, Gray, “ I'am glad you happened to I will set that matter right at once, be passing this way: no doubt you by assuring you that what I have will help me in quíeting this scan- heard now is the very first I have dalous riot, which you can the better heard of Mr. Knocks going away, do, as I see some lads here belong- and, therefore, I cannot have been ing to families which are in your scheming or meddling about his employ.”
Buccessor. I may have said someJohn was at first a little overawed thing about voting, but it related to by Mr. Gray's quiet appeal to him, an election elsewhere among some. and might have made a civil answer, of our own people; and the Wilson but just then a fresh troop of young whom I spoke of was good Bishop vagabonds came on, with one Wal- Wilson, who died near 100 years ter Temps at their head, a noted ago. I know you will believe me, lounger and declaimer at public- and I think you will be sorry for houses, and very clever in his way; this outbreak; and so neighbours, and the shouts and excitementuose I wish you a very good night.” so high, that John, feeling as if he With that he went back into his had the world in a string, replied | house, and they all slunk away
ashamed, by the light of the moon, against their Vicar, or any Curate which was now risen: only Bustle but the one whom he himself had and Whiteybrown still tried to look chosen ; “for I,” says he, like a couple of wise-acres, shaking much better judge of what is good their heads, and saying, under for the Establishment than its own breath, “I'm not sure that I'm prejudiced and illiberal members.” satisfied yet.”
And there being a dispute among However, there was nothing said the parishioners about the meaning in the village after this of the Curate of a certain Rubric, Squire Bussell interfering in the choice of a preacher | insists upon it, that the only senfor the Meeting House.
sible way of settling the dispute is, It so happened, no very long time to allow him to choose out five of afterwards, that somebody died, and the dissenting congregation to which left Mr. Bustle a fortune: upon he himself belongs, and abide by which he went to live at a distance, their decision. And what is more became a magistrate, and took a strange, it is now reported that the fancy, as was particularly observed, magistrates at Quarter Sessions have to writing his name Bussell; some been influenced by this Mr. Bustle even said, that there was a chance to pass a vote to the same effect. of his being made a Lord. But in The Vicar of Wyeside, and his his notions about the Church, and quiet old parishioners, even with generally in matters of religion, he the aid of Mr. Gray, who has not continued just as had been. failed to write them the account of
Now, in the next parish to Squire what happened at the other place, Bussell (for so we must now call seem to have no chance against him, him), there was a clergyman who he is so noisy and so fluent: and wanted a Curate, and the Squire took besides (a thing which was much it into his head to be very earnest talked of at the time), he took away in recommending a particular per
with him to his new home both son to the vacant place. The person Bob Radd and Walter Temps, and whom he recommended, the Rev. some others whose room was more Robin Denham, was no particular welcome to decent people than their friend of Bussell's,-in fact, he company. thought him rather a dull, or as he One way or another, he has con. called it, a "rum theologian,”—but trived to get up a strong faction Mr. Denhain was particularly dis- where he now lives; and by what tasteful to the Vicar and parishioners I hear, the best chance which the of Wyeside (for that was the name Vicar has of standing against him of the parish), insomuch, that four, is a reference which is proposed to teen of the principal ones addressed be made to a certain Mr. Bull, a a letter to Squire Bussell, when farmer of the old school, but posthey found what he was about, sessed of large investments in a saying that they hoped he would cotton mill also, and so highly relet the matter alone. To which he spected, that when he really speaks replied that he knew better than
out, no person thereabouts would they; that he had put the matter dare think of disputing his decision in train, and it must take its course. Mr. Bull, as is often the case with And there is not a day, hardly an persons in a great line of business, hour, that he is not busy in writing can hardly be got to turn his mind letters, printing hand-bills, or con- to this matter in earnest, but it is ferring with some of the discon-confidently hoped, that when his tented folks of Wyeside, to set them l attention is really and fairly drawn to it, he will at once say it is a clear | flowered velvets. These, her Macase; and as John Bustle and his jesty told him, “if he approved, she set thought it intolerable for Mr. would give to Canterbury cathedral, Gray to interfere with their election as she observed the furniture to be of a minister, so it would be no less dirty; but as there was not enough intolerable for Squire Bussell, even of the figured velvet, she had sent though he should be made a Lord, to Holland to match it.” The and have ever so many on his side, Queen, when all was ready, desto pretend to settle the meaning of patched to the cathedral a page of Church Rubrics, and appoint Curates her backstairs, who always arranged in spite of both Vicar and parish- matters regarding her gifts, with ioners.
the rich velvets. The altar at the
cathedral was furnished with the AN EXAMPLE.
figured velvet, and a breadth of the
gold stuff, flowered with silver, let Queen Mary II. (wife of William The archbishop's throne was III.) had visited Canterbury in 1693, covered with plain velvet; the and some little time after the visit, fringe for the whole was a rufted the Queen sent for Dean Hooper one of gold, silver, and purple; it again, and led him to her dressing- | alone cost the Queen £500.-Miss room, where she showed him some Strickland's Lives of the Queens of pieces of silver stuffs and purple- ' England.
NOTES ON CHURCH HISTORY.
No. III. The next day, a little after twelve at noon, Hyde, in passing accidentally by the School-room, saw his friend Butler in the porch, leaning his forehead very sadly against the side wall, and covering his eyes with his hands, like one in affliction. This concerned and surprised Hyde so, that he could not help stopping for a moment, and in that moment Butler roused himself, saw and beckoned him to follow him into the School-room. There he saw a very unusual sight for that place,-two or three of the elder boys kept, and standing gloomily in different parts of the room; one in tears, one flushed and angry, one with that black hard sullen look which alarms an instructor more than
All the boys knew Hyde, for he was very good-natured, and a saddler's shop abounds as much as any with objects interesting to that part of the population. His entrance, accordingly, was a kind of little event, which broke or diverted the current of their angry thoughts, and in no long time, one by one, their manner changed, they were willing to listen to Butler's mild and firm, but not unsympathizing expostulations; and in half an hur he left them, with a fair prospect of their doing their tasks in good
time and with a good grace, all but one, who seemed quite unmanageable, and whose case was deferred till next day. Butler then, looking very downcast, asked Hyde to accompany him into his lodging, and it being a half-holiday, and Hyde not particularly engaged, they spent a good part of the afternoon together.
As soon as they were fairly by themselves, Mr. Hyde said, “Do you know (I am half ashamed to own it, but it is the truth) that I was rather pleased than not to see you in that trouble just now ?” “ How could that be, such a good-natured man as you are ?” asked Butler in some surprise. “ Why, Master Butler, you will excuse my saying it to your face, but so it is, that we Meriden folks often talk to one another of your good success in managing these boys, and think with ourselves what a fine thing it is to be so clever, and have one's own way so easily, and prosper in what one undertakes; and so I had a little envious satisfaction in seeing that you have your rubs and your difficulties as well as another, and do not always gain your point.” “ Ah!” said Butler with a sort of melancholy smile,
you knew all, or but half, or even a quarter of what passes, you would, indeed, have comfort enough of that kind.” Well, my good friend, you know very well that I was not quite in earnest,” said Hyde, “and, after all, whatever you may think of it, no one can deny that a Meriden plough-boy is a different sort of creature now from what he was before you took us in hand."
“But in another way,"—and here Hyde's look and voice became more serious than they had been— your little perplexity with your boys greatly comforts me, for it helps me to see my way in the difficulty to which we had come yesterday, when we left off our talk about the Ancient Church.”
“ What was the difficulty ?” asked Butler, “you did not express any: I was sure by your look and manner that something had occurred to you, but if
would not then let me inquire.”
H. “ The time would have been too short, and I wished, for some reasons, to think of it a little by myself. However it was nothing new or rare, at least I should think that every body almost must have felt it as well as myself. It is just this; If the Church as we see it, is the very same Body with the Church in the Acts of the Apostles, how comes the one to be so very unlike the other, as even a plain man, like myself, can discern it to be?