134 The Country Parson. 



hung heavy for a moment. Sometimes we began with a 

 wedding at eight, the Sunday school after breakfast (at 

 which I only assisted occasionally as Mr. Spectator, listening 

 to some of the primitive answers*), church at half -past ten, 

 a chat for half an hour before with the patriarchs, who 

 represented the House of Lords amongst the villagers, 

 sitting about the blacksmith's shop in the week days, and 

 occupying the posts of honour on the benches under the 

 old yew-tree in the churchyard on Sundays. One of these 

 fogies sometimes might be a Trafalgar man, or a Peninsular 

 or Waterloo veteran, and better company I never met. 

 Then came the early dinner at one, church again at half- 

 past two ; after church a walk round the parish with the 

 parson, who went to see some very old parishioners who 

 were too feeble to come out, and to read to them a little 

 out of '* Pilgrim's Progi^ess," which is to the aged poor what 

 " Pobinson Crusoe " is to a school-boy ; pending the reading 

 whereof I would drop in and pay the churchwarden a visit, 

 and sit in his chimney-corner — which held six, three each 

 side — and have a glass of his strong beer and a quiet 

 smoke with an old she^^herd, who always ''rested on his 

 way home ; " in other words, had his pint of strong home- 

 brewed regularly every Sunday — accompanied by his rough 

 sheep-dog, a stout churchman, who always slept in the pew 

 and never barked in his sleep, and who never looked in vain 

 for some scraps in the churchwarden's outhouse. Then 

 about seven came a tea and supper combined, which makes- 

 me hungry to think of now. And I think that parson, wha 

 Jbad done eleven hours' honest work, aided and abetted by 

 Ms wife and dauofhters, who tausfht in the school and 



* A country parson once told me that when his class could not 

 remember the shepherds as the first recipients of the great Christmas 

 naessage, he asked who were likely to be in the fields by night, and 

 one lively village bucolic eagerly answered " the poachers." 



