1 88 In Scarlet and Silk 



Races, but dared not for fear of his Bishop, 

 who was then staying in the town. In an 

 inspired moment he conceived the idea of 

 blacking his face and going as a nigger 

 minstrel. All went well with the scheme 

 until, just in front of the Stand, he came face 

 to face with a large benevolent-looking old 

 gentleman, the Bishop himself ! In complete 

 forgetfulness of the aid which burnt cork had 

 lent to his toilet, the absent-minded Curate 

 raised his hat, disclosing his fair and curly 

 locks to the horrified Episcopal gaze ! And 

 even this case of clerical absence of mind was 

 fairly capped by the following story, to the 

 truth of which I can absolutely pledge my- 

 self. The Curate in question had been invited 

 by some friends to dine, and meet his Bishop. 

 In due course he arrived, late in the winter 

 afternoon, and was shown up to his room to 

 dress. The dinner hour came, but the Curate 

 did not. The hour, l)ut not the man ! All the 

 guests, including the great ecclesiastic, were 

 assembled ; the minutes slowly passed, but 

 still no sign. At length the host despatched 



