unemployed, like the labourers in the parable; likely to make a capital workman, and yet—and yet-Where shall he go to? For more than a year he had been looking out for work, yet here he stands, fully equipped, intellectually and morally strong for work, nay, the man has a keen appetite for work; he craves it as eagerly as some men crave pleasure, as the miser gold, or the starving man food. He could live on work. There is but one gift he asks of any man, 'Give me work!'-and yet-and yet-Where shall he go to? The churches are ever and anon urged to pray the Lord of the harvest to send forth more labourers into the great work-field. But what to do with them if the good Lord should hear their prayers? One sometimes thinks the churches mean 'labourers' after a particular fashion, and that, as goods are ordered to pattern,' so a pattern-type is put before the Lord of the vineyard, and that he may as good as not send any if they are not according to pattern.' Of all the teachers of religion in this age, of all the churches, I do not know more than a dozen that I should rank as Warrington's equals, and yet—and yet-Where shall he go to? I confess it looks as if nobody wanted him. And he was beginning to think so himself, and was trying to pierce with his eye the gloom in another direction.

There was much for the two friends to talk over. There was all that, during the past year or more, Warrington had observed and experienced among the Dissenters, and what he thought of them. And, on the other hand, there was what the ministers and churches he had been among had observed and thought of him, and of which Mr. Spencer had been pretty well informed, having received ample communications from the pastors and deacons, and others, to whom he had introduced him.

In the course of the evening's chat they touched upon a thousand things-books, men, affairs, the present time, the past, the future. I do not know whether they did not borrow the wings of the morning, and sweep through space, and make the compass of the universe. They had been grave and gay. They had conversed in pensive under-tones, and had laughed right merrily. Warrington had a fund of funny experiences gathered during the past year's tour among the churches; and, while Duncan thought he touched too lightly and good-humouredly the weaknesses and absurdities, or graver faults, which had come under his notice, Nora thought the half-playful treatment of the foibles of some of the less pleasing specimens of the Dissenting community a proof of his genial nature and strength. Duncan wished that "Punch" would just put on a white choker and become a Dissenting brother for one twelvemonth, and then, for another devote himself to showing up the beggarly He paused, for he caught his father's eye fixed regretfully upon him. Mr. Spencer might, perhaps, have intimated a reproof, but remembered that his children had been aware of too many things that could not but act unfavourably on their minds in reference-not indeed to the principles of Nonconformity-but to the manner in which those principles are too often worked out, and feared the effect more especially on the

boy's mind. Seeing Duncan's confusion, Mr. Warrington interposed with the suggestion, whether, on the whole, Paul redivivus would not be better than Aristophanes?' And so the subject was turned into a consideration of the moral effect of satire, and the tendency of looking at things only on their ludicrous sides.

But, when Mr. Warrington was alone with Mr. Spencer the next day, he referred to some of these things more seriously, and was half-inclined to think that a wee bit of Duncan's comic notion might be carried out with some ultimate advantage. And so the two friends plunged at once in medias res. Mr. Spencer had previously spent an hour that morning in looking over the various letters he had received touching his friend, and found that they arranged themselves under three classes. There were some quite enthusiastic in their expressions of admiration; some as decidedly unfavourable, you might almost say, hostile; while others exhibited the writers as curiously perplexed to know what to say or think about him. Sometimes letters of all these three kinds came from the same place, so that it was not without significance to find the same man, the same sermon, or line of conduct, spoken of so oppositely. Truly, the question, after all, is not so much -What is said? as, Who says it?

'I have been hesitating,' said Mr. Spencer, 'whether or not to read the greater part of these letters to you, for they all relate to you; and I do not know that the writers considered themselves as addressing me confidentially. Still, it is possible they would not have been so unreserved, if they had supposed any other eye than my own would

see them.'

'Perhaps they will assist you in getting at particulars, which might not occur to me to mention. Let me see; when I left you rather more than a year since-I was going to preach at Water-Hampton for a month.'

'Yes,' said Mr. Spencer, and smilingly selected three letters from his packet. You were not sorry, you wrote me, when that engagement terminated.'

'True. There was an all-pervading tone of discomfort ran through everything. The deacons were vulgar, well-to-do men, sharp and successful in business, and fain to judge of all things connected with even a Christian church, and the spiritualities of religion and worship, on shop principles, and even those questionable of their kind. I almost expected them to call "our people," as they used to call their fellow-worshippers, "our customers." Actually, they made a sort of capital out of your unfortunate friend's antecedents, and put an advertisement in the local papers, that "So-and-so, late of Oriel College, Oxford (in all the dignity of large caps), would occupy the pulpit at Pinchbeck Chapel for a month," but I cannot repeat the nauseous terms in which they characterised me. There, read for yourself. And he drew from his pocket-book the advertisement, which Mr. Spencer read in silence, and not without an expression of intense mortification.

'Well, one of the firm, deacons, I mean, read the hymns, and in so

loud and coarse a voice, and so irreverently, that it did much to untune one's spirit for leading the devotions. And, to intensify the evil, the singers corresponded to the clerk. Unseemly tunes, with no relation to the sentiment, and the most absurd repeats, sung most vociferously, not heartily. Then, there was an incessant bustling about during the service. One of the triumvirate was, without exception, the fussiest mortal I ever saw. Out of his pew, down this aisle, up that, in the vestry, then up in the gallery, and, at last, just before I announced the text, he skipped up the pulpit-stairs, leant over the side, and, putting his face close to mine, asked me, in a mysterious whisper, whether I would be at the prayer-meeting next evening. And as I assented, what did my gentleman do, but, as soon as the hymn-spoiler had announced several meetings in the vicinity, and that application for pews might be made to Brother Bubb, &c., &c., added, from the middle-stair of the pulpit, with a flourish of trumpets, that your humble servant "would preside at, &c., &c.;" then looked up graciously at me, as one who had done something towards helping me, and with much complacency took his seat, and, with the air of a connoisseur, prepared to listen to "Soand-so, late of Oriel College, Oxford." I think I could preach in Smithfield Market, or on a fashionable promenade at a watering-place, and not feel half so distracted as by all the accessories at that Pinchbeck Chapel of theirs. I have a creeping sensation all over my frame when I think of the place.'

'I found there were no "elective affinities," likely to make WaterHampton your sphere of labour.'

"What, I wonder, was their report?'

'In brief, that you were "a gentleman-preacher," too "dainty as to modes of proceeding," refusing to "make a splash," and "not caring about popularity," "not what we should call in business a good salesman, &c., &c.""

'Is it possible? Yet I am not surprised, either. And one prominent reason for dissenting from the National Church, is the desire "for something more spiritual!" Now, tell me, is this Pinchbeck Chapel a fair specimen of a class?'

'Of a class, it may be. But I sincerely hope not a large one, and also that you have been more fortunate elsewhere.'

'Most undoubtedly. But I assure you, Pinchbeck Chapel and its diaconate affected me very unpleasantly.'

'I am not surprised. But was it all nought, even there?'

'By no means. I met with some truly religious people among the poor; indeed, with more intelligent piety than I had ever found among the same class before. I came, in the course of the month, quite to esteem some of them. And, by the bye, I fell in with two or three of Luke's "honourable women;" but, excepting those I have

referred to among the poor, all the men were very sorry specimens of

redeemed humanity.'

You were at home with Mrs. Colonel Marriott, I suppose?'

'Mrs. Colonel Marriott! One of the happiest specimens of a

Christian lady I ever met with, and I learnt something from her too. She is tortured, I am sure, in every nerve by the manner in which things are done, and yet on principle remains connected with the people; aye, and she is doing a good work among them, too. If that church is ever regenerated, it will be by the Maries and Priscillas among them. By the way, I have-in some other places, too-found the happiest influences being exerted by intelligent and cultivated Christian ladies. And, indeed, I spent a fortnight with one church in which the primitive order of deaconesses was recognised, and, as I was told, with very great advantage.'

"Deaconesses!" Why, what in the world were their functions?' inquired Mr. Spencer.

'Oh, the deacons were too much engrossed in their own businesses, to have much time for devoting to all the detail that often requires such prompt attention, and these excellent women-who were not unlikely to have got mentioned in an apostolic epistle, if we had any St. Paul among us to write one-made themselves, as the advertisements say, "generally useful." They visited the sick, kept a sort of oversight over the younger females, and, by their knowledge of the whole female portion of the church, could keep many things from growing up to serious evils, while by their means the minister also could always know whatever was desirable touching nearly all the flock.'

'Good,' said Mr. Spencer. 'Worth trying, I should say. Only, we had need have the right sort of women. Injudicious, talking women, recognised as holding a sort of offices, would be worse than undesirable deacons. But, if you could secure the women whom Bunyan places in his house called "Beautiful," namely, "Prudence, Piety, and Charity," I can conceive they might be eminently useful.'

'The deaconesses in the two churches I refer to,' said the other, 'collected the chief part of the subscriptions, and, by their punctuality in such matters, staved off a great deal of discomfort, I was told. And as pecuniary discomfort is certain to lead on to still graver complications, they must be considered as greatly contributing to promote the peaceful state of things I found in those churches.'

'I like the idea,' said Mr. Spencer. Indeed, it has sometimes occurred to my own mind; but it is not every congregation, or church rather, I must say, that can furnish women of the right kind. And better none at all than unfit ones, I am sure.'

'Well, to return; the church at Water-Hampton is to be congratulated on having a Mrs. Colonel Marriott among them, though she holds no such office, and her influence is rather felt like the fragrance of the sweet-briar after a shower, than seen like light. Her very tones, and even presence, served, more than once, I observed, to bring those unfortunately constituted deacons into something like a pleasant mood. God send a noble woman, or two, into all such churches, I say?'

'She writes of your visit to Water-Hampton as peculiarly valuable

to her, and that you have given her strength for months to come. Indeed, I should judge the month well bestowed if no other good accrued from it than the great help and furtherance you were to this one Christian lady, who, I know, is engaged in a true lifework. After all, the highest spiritual good is the least definitely reportable, I suppose. But, what was your next engagement?'

'Oh, I have not half done with Water-Hampton yet. But my next place was as delightful as this was ungenial. Indeed, it is written down in my memory as the "Happy Valley," and one of the most favourable specimens of a Dissenting church I have met with. But, by the way, what a wretched designation for a church of Christa Dissenting church! I would counsel the utter abandonment of it at once, and for ever. To me it is exceedingly repugnant, irredeemably offensive. I would never name a part of that church which He hath purchased with his precious blood' [speaking very softly] 'from any feature of antagonism to another. I shall never frame my mouth to utter it pleasantly, I am sure. However, Darlingham was my next place. But I should like to reserve my account of this pleasing church till Duncan comes, for he seems to have a deep prejudice against your whole body. And, indeed, I did not go there immediately on leaving Water-Hampton, for, having to pass through London, and having two or three weeks at liberty, I availed myself of the opportunity to hear as many of the ministers there, and attend as many of the public meetings, as I could. But what say you to a walk?'

With all my heart; but what ministers did you hear?'

'Oh, several. There was-let me see-Mr. Binney, of course; Dr. Leifchild; Mr. Stovel; well, then-oh!-Mr. Hinton; and a gentleman at Holloway, Mr. Morris; and a minister, near Guy's Hospital, at a place called Maze Pond-I forget his name; black hair

'Aldis ?'

"That's the name. It would have gratified me to-but come, we can walk and talk.'

And I think, seeing these ministers are happily still among us, it may be better to let the two gentlemen have their chat about them to themselves. So, with the simple remark that Mr. Spencer was much gratified by his friend's discriminating admiration of them and several others not here enumerated, I invite the reader to a peep in next number of Mr. Warrington's Happy Valley; that is to say, the church at Darlingham.

'Baptist, or Independent?'

Upon my word, sir, I don't know. Is it of any consequence?'