The Rev. E. Burnaby 69 



another helped friends to the tune of £500 and £800 without 

 ever getting the money back, but still he does not complain. 

 He has written two books, one giving an account of his ride 

 from Land's End to John o' Groats, and the other about famous 

 trials which I have already alluded to. 



While holding the family living of Burrough from 1873 to 

 1883, he was compelled through ill-health to seek the assistance 

 of curates, to whom he gave a stipend of £120 a year. He had 

 a good deal of trouble with some of them ; one in particular 

 gave him a considerable amount of worry. This curate rented 

 a cottage from Colonel Fred Burnaby at two guineas a week ; 

 after a long time it transpired that no rent had been paid, so 

 Evelyn Burnaby thought it might be a convenient plan to 

 deduct the sum from the curate's stipend. He suggested this, 

 but was told, " I do not wish the two transactions mixed up." 

 The next thing that happened was that the curate moved, and 

 was installed in the beautifully furnished rectory, and chanced 

 to meet his rector one day in the parish. The curate remarked 

 pleasantly, " I have had the Sheriff's officers down this morning, 

 and they threatened a seizure." 



The furniture being parson Burnaby 's, he asked quickly if 

 they had taken anything . 



" Not very much, I think," replied the curate casually. 

 " It's all yours, you see." But here his manner changed and he 

 grew stern. " But would you believe who sent the men down ? " 



" I have no idea," admitted the rector. 



" Well, it was your own brother, sir." 



Things went on like this, with writs continually being sent 

 to the rectory for the curate. When the time arrived for the 

 harvest festival, Mr. Burnaby arranged with his old friend Dean 

 Hole to preach the sermon. He and Mr. Burnaby were marching 

 at the rear of the procession, all robed, from the rectory to the 

 choir, the curate being immediately in front of them, when a 

 suspicious-looking individual came and touched the curate on 

 the arm. 



" A writter," whispered Dean Hole. 



" How dare you touch me when I am taking part in a holy 

 procession ! " cried the curate furiously. 



What happened then I do not know, but after church Dean 

 Hole and Burnaby were preparing to eat some luncheon they 



