pened, and emitted a visible
steam, preventing positive explosion and probable apoplexy. "Good
heavens!"--and the archdeacon looked up to the gray pinnacles of the
cathedral tower, making a mute appeal to that still living witness
which had looked down on the doings of so many bishops of Barchester.

"I don't think I shall ever like that Mr. Slope," said Mr. Harding.

"Like him!" roared the archdeacon, standing still for a moment to
give more force to his voice; "like him!" All the ravens of the
close cawed their assent. The old bells of the tower, in chiming the
hour, echoed the words, and the swallows flying out from their nests
mutely expressed a similar opinion. Like Mr. Slope! Why no, it was
not very probable that any Barchester-bred living thing should like
Mr. Slope!

"Nor Mrs. Proudie either," said Mr. Harding.

The archdeacon hereupon forgot himself. I will not follow his
example, nor shock my readers by transcribing the term in which he
expressed his feeling as to the lady who had been named. The ravens
and the last lingering notes of the clock bells were less scrupulous
and repeated in correspondent echoes the very improper exclamation.
The archdeacon again raised his hat, and another salutary escape of
steam was effected.

There was a pause, during which the precentor tried to realize
the fact that the wife of a Bishop of Barchester had been thus
designated, in the close of the cathedral, by the lips of its own
archdeacon; but he could not do it.

"The bishop seems to be a quiet man enough," suggested Mr. Harding,
having acknowledged to himself his own failure.

"Idiot!" exclaimed the doctor, who for the nonce was not capable of
more than such spasmodic attempts at utterance.

"Well, he did not seem very bright," said Mr. Harding, "and yet
he has always had the reputation of a clever man. I suppose he's
cautious and not inclined to express himself very freely."

The new Bishop of Barchester was already so contemptible a creature
in Dr. Grantly's eyes that he could not condescend to discuss his
character. He was a puppet to be played by others; a mere wax doll,
done up in an apron and a shovel hat, to be stuck on a throne or
elsewhere, and pulled about by wires as others chose. Dr. Grantly did
not choose to let himself down low enough to talk about Dr. Proudie,
but he saw that he would have to talk about the other members of his
household, the coadjutor bishops, who had brought his lordship down,