The Rev. C. Kingsley 79 



During his time of doubt he hardly worked at all, and had 

 a hard grind to win his degree at the end, putting three years' 

 work into as many months. 



After his ordination by the Bishop of Winchester in 1842 

 he became curate of Eversley in Hampshire, where he found 

 matters in a bad state, as was not uncommon in mral parishes 

 in those days. Not one adult labourer in the parish could 

 read or write, and village sanitation was practically non- 

 existent. There was no congregation at the church, which 

 itself badly needed repair, and the whole work of the parish 

 was left to him by the vicar. 



He was a great preacher, and never stuttered in the pulpit. 

 People thronged to hear him, soldiers home from the Crimea — 

 amongst others one who had been dangerously wounded at 

 Scutari, who had read his " Yeast," and determined if he lived 

 to return home he would make a point of going to hear the man 

 preach who could give such a picture of a hunting scene as the 

 one in the opening chapter. 



In 1844 things grew brighter, as the Hving became vacant, 

 and was given to him by Sir John Cope at the wish of the 

 parishioners. This enabled him to marry, but the picture was 

 slightly clouded by the heavy dilapidations to the rectory he 

 had to pay. He was by no means rich, and was never free from 

 money worries. This was one of the reasons why he did not 

 hunt more regularly. The temptation to follow hounds was a 

 sore one, as the pack — now known as the Garth — was kennelled 

 at Bramshill, quite near, so that they were continually passing his 

 windows on the way to their meets. His friends have seen tears 

 come to his eyes as he watched them go by and could not join them. 



In the course of time he acquired a horse to facilitate his 

 journeyings about the j^arish. It was not a showy beast, being 

 strictly utilitarian, but he managed to imbue it with enough of 

 his own fire to enjoy an occasional day's hunting on it. When 

 he and his " Rosinante " did turn out, he was assured of a 

 hearty welcome by the members of the field. 



Here is an account of a hunt he snatched from the middle of 

 a day's parish work. It is to his great fishing companion and 

 bosom friend, Thomas Hughes — author of " Tom Brown's 

 School-days " — and is dashed off in the true Kingsley state of 

 glowing enthusiasm : 



