The mountain Democrat., 1863-11-21
THE PRESSED MAN.

clergyman, became incumbent Of par
ish on the coast. The living was but a
/ petty affair, when looked at from q pecu-
mary point Of view. and the duties were
arduous enough. There was no residence
for the wears use; the lesser tithes were
small in amount, and not very regularly
paid; and the parish consisted of large
noisy seaport, full Of dirt and vice. Un-
der such circumstances, it is not surPri-
/ sing that few could be found who were
willing to accept so uninviting post, and
that the benefice for some months went
begging.'
/ Ny friends sdooE 6feGr feaGs wheaf :,
the Rev. Joseph Hawley, was gazetted to
the vicarage Of St. Peters, Sallyport-
was made to take such preferment, they
said. Within the memory of man, the
living of st. Peters had never been held
by resident parson. Old DR.. Stall, that
comfortable prebendary and pluralst, had
pocketed the lesser tithes for forty years,
far away in his comfortable residence un-
der the shadow Of Mossminster Cathedral,
and starved curate bad done the work.
In those days, jealous cergymen were
much more rare than at present. ] was
no better than my compeers, nor do wish
to advance anyA pTetension to superior
merit; but was one of those young mem
bers Of the church militant who were
pilucd at the success Of Whitfield and
Wesley, and grieved at the practical hea-
theniSm OF masses Of our poor country
men.
/ That was why became vicar of ST. Pc
ter's. They had sore need of a spiritual
guide, those poor inhabitants of Sallyport,
and no less need of a word Of sound ad-
vice at critical moments in their reck less
li?cs.
|; was the war time, the time Of the
great old war against France and the for
midahle ruler Of France, ann Britain was
straining every nerve to cope with an an
tagoni>t who leagued against her almost
all the might Of Europe. We were fight
ing too Lard abroad to have leisure for re-
forming at home. The morality of the
scapOrts, in especial, was lamentably low;
there was frightful amount Of drunken
ness, and there was not much more rcli-
gion than among some benighted tribes Of
savagcs.
+ During the first few months OF my in
cnmbency, had an uphill fight to wage,
but pcrsevercd, and was thankful for
the results Of my persistency. The peo-
pie, who first stared at me, or jeered me,
learned to respect their vicar, and in some
cases, at least, to listen to and like him.
Sa!lyport was a town that depended part.
ly on its merchant shipping, partly on
that immoral trade Of privatcering which
the long struggle against Napoleon had
fostered into a regular profession. Ac-
corjingly, there were times when the
Who,e place rang with revelry, when the
lid'l!eS played all night at the sign Of the
Valiant Sailor or the King George, and
when the exulting privateersmen would
fling gold and silver out Of the public
house windows, 10 be scrambled for by
the mob without
There were also times when bad luck
prevailed, when all were poor and d, ,ject
cd, and when my pariShionerS were in de-
Spair. am glad to think that did some
good. The good they did me was proba
bly, in teaching me to entertain more hope
aud trust in human nature, however de-
based, than | had previously felt. They
were a kindly generous race, that am
phitious population, in spite Of all their
faults.
had been a twelvemonth among them,
and was tolerably popular, when the old
woman in whose house lodged came one
evening 10 announce that Mary Wade
wished to speak to Inc, if pleased
| Mary Wade was shown into my little
angular parlor, where, amid conch shells,
stuffed parrots, ostrich eggs, and dried
cutie fish, was busy with my immature
/ sermon.
Good evening, Mary; what can l do for
- Gracious, what's the matterg'
For Mary Wade, the instant Mrs. Sim.
mons the landlady had closed the door,
! put the corner of her shawl to her eyes,
and began to weep and sob most bitterly,
but in silent and suppressed fashion, as
! if she feared to call attention to her grief
Dear me!' said |, rising from my arm
chair, Il am sorry to see you in such aC-
Fiction, poor girl. hope your father is
not taken i'll =
For knew that the retired naval quar-
termaSter, Mary's only surviving parent,
was very frail and old, and could not
conjecture any more probable cause for
her agitation than the swapping of the
/ slight thread which bound that aged man
to life.
Mary herself was pretty, dark. eyed
girl of modest demeanor, the most regu-
lar church goer in the parish, and the
| ouick OCT and unotect pondIoUomop IL, Sol
lyport. The widest youngster in the
town would step respectfully aside, as
Mary Wade passed along the pavement
with her work basket and her calm, hon,
est eyes and fierce termagants, whose
tonEncs mauied their neighbors cruelty,
vere forced to own that old Wade had a
pattern daughter. and the best Of nurses
in his dotoge.
% no, sir; Heaven be thanked, fathers
well; but I'm in great trouble, and indeed,
sir, You alone can help me.
BE sure that if it is in Mv power to
serve you, the will shall not be lacking,
said |, Soothingly; though had not tie
slightest idea what could have happened.
But induced the girl to sit down and
CotHpOSe HetSSll llttitI DelOIc CONTINUING
her, appeal for aid. Mary Wade sat down,
wiped away the tears that stained her rosy
checks, and burst out with gasp: %,
sir, it's about Henry
knew perfectly well who Henry was,
and in what relation he stood to the pret-
ty weeping petitioner. Henry Mills was
one of the finest young seamen on all the
coast he was as brave as lion, and his
character was unblemished. had heard
with pleasure that he had been promised
place as fourth officer on board an In
diaman, and that on his return from his
first voyage was to publish the bans Of