Sacramento daily record-union., 1888-09-01
THE BISHOPS MISTAKE.
CHAPTER I.

Blankshire, bears the unenviable reputa
tion of being the dullest of all dull Eng
lish country towns. In a place where
amusements are so scanty as in Dulbor
ough, it is not surprising that trivia
events acquire fictitious Importance; and i
may be easily understood what an excite
ment an important event such as the resig
nation of the Vicar of the parish church
would occasion in Dulborough, and how
many and varied would be the speculation.
which would arise as to his successor, anC
the probable changes that would follow the
appointment.
The old Vicar was very shy and un
sociable. He was esteemed, but little
liked, or indeed known personally, by his
congregation. His wife, who might have
been a connecting link between priest and
people, was unfortunately an invalid. and
could take very little part in the work Of
the parish. Lately she had been worse
and the doctors had recommended her to
try a warmer climate and as the Vicar
was man Of large private means, he had
resigned his living, and intended, as soon
as his successor was appointed by the
Bishop, to reside in the south of England,
Now, the Bishop Of that diocese was the
most pious and learned, and also the most
liberal-minded of all the bishops on the
bench. He, indeed, possessed all the
qualities which are necessary to one de
string the Office of bishop. All but one
He was not only unmarried, but he was
credited, whether justly or unjustly, with
holding very strong opinions in favor OF
the celebacy Of the clergy. 1t was whis-
pered, but this was principally among dis
contented curates with large families and
ridiculously disproportionate incomes, that
preferment was more commonly bestowed
upon young unmarried men than upon
those who, their quivers being full to over
flowing, stood in most need Of it.
In person, the Bishop was small and in
significant, with a plain, clever face, and
short-sighted eyes, whose naturally kind
expression was hidden behind pair OF
blue spectacles, which midnight study and
constant poring over musty tones had
rendered prematurely necessary. He was
much esteemed and loved in his diocese.
for though childIess himself, he took a
fatherly interest in all his younger clergy,
and won from them in return an almost
reverential affection and devotion.
Ithad been long whispered in Dulborough
that the Bishop was anxious tosee a younger
and more active man at Saint Peters.
Some time previously he had offered the
Vicar a country living, and had been
much disappointed when it was refused.
Consequently, no one was surprised when
it became known that the Rev. Maurice
Chetwynd, a protege and distant connection
of the Bishops, had been appointed to the
living.
All sorts of rumors were rife, and the
hveliest excitement prevailed in Dull
borough respecting the new Vicar. He
was known to be young, handsome, and
unmarried; and went the news spread
abroad that he intended to bring with HIM
as his coadutors, two curates, also young
and unmarried, then indeed did the hearts
of all the marriageable spinsters in Dul.
borough beat high with hope and expecta-
tion.
Autumn was waning when Maurice
Chetwynd first came to Dulborough. Fol
the last five years his work had lain in g
crowded parish in great manufacturing
town, and the change from the narrow
squalid streets and the pale, haggard peo-
pie who herded there, to the pretty coun.
try town, with its wide streets and well.
dressed, prosperous-lOoking inhabitants
was indeed strange and delightful to him
The vicarage was a pretty, old-fashioned
house, with tennis ground, aud large
garden, where the finest flowers and the
earliest fruit in the neighborhood grew
This garden had been the old Wears
great delight and pride. 1t was kept in
perfect order; not a weed dared to show its
face, and the tennis ground was a marvel
of beauty and verdure.
Truly the lines had fallen to him in
pleasant places, Maurice Chetwynd
thought as on that October afternoon he
drove up the garden and saw the sun shin
ing on the gray-stone house, and the shell
tered, trim garden, gay still with autumn
flowers, and on the purple blossoms of {
clematis which hung over the porch, anc
waved to and fro in the evening breeze.
Sarah, one of the late Wears servants
who had remained behind as the new
Wears housekeeper, stood waiting to re
ceive him in the hall, and took him into {
small room, which had formerly been used
as study, and where she had arranged
the furniture which Chetwynd had sent
from his old lodgings.
a put the things you sent in here, sir
they looked lost-like in the dining-room,
she explained. 81 suppose you will be
getting new furniture for it and the other
rooms %
"All in good time l am bachelor
you know, Sarah,' Maurice laughed good
humoredly. Anything is good enough
for me. As long as have chair to sit
upon and table to write at and a bed tt
sleep on, am content. And the room
looks very nice" he added complacently
1t was not long before the congregation
of the parish church, which in the ole
Wears time had sadly fallen of, improved
rapidly, and as it increased the congrega
tiOns at the other churches-of which
there were five-diminished. The church
wardens looked blue, and sighed over the
scanty offerings, and the clergymen, all o
whom were Benedicts with large families
made sarcastic comments on the advantage:
possessed by young unmarried men over
their married brethren. Only Theo Far
quhar, the doctors pretty daughter, held
herself aloof and declined to join the ad
miring throng of ladies who fiocked to tht
weekday services, and worked in the dis
trlct, and frequented the Dorcas meeting
which the Vicar, who combined the wis
dom of the serpent with the harmlessnes'
of the dove, held once fortnight at the
vicarage, and of which Sarah, the house
keeper, strongly disapproved.
Poor lad"-the Vicar was nearly
thirty-"he's young an foolish. Hell
know better by an BY Wait till he get;
a nice wife," she used to say sometime:
when her patience had been more thar
commonly exercised. She'll soon knocl
the nonsense out of him J"
But though. in Sarah's opinion, nice
wife was the one thing neglected 10 make
her Vicar perfect, she showed herself by
no means anxious to welcome in that ca
pacity any one of the ladies who ATTENDED
the Dorcas meetings She saw tina
the tea with which they were regaled wa
hot and strong, that the bread and butte
and tea-cakes were of the choicest descrip
ton; but she was very grim and taciturI
in her manner towards the fair workers
and openly expressed her opinion that il
was not so much for love of the work as
for love of the Vicar that they hocked sc
eagerly on every alternate Thursday t.
the yicarage.
"Why don't you come to the Dorca
meetings, Theo?" Amy Russell, who wa