rofited
by the one, and abused the other. Loss succeeded loss; misfortune
crowded on misfortune; each successive day brought him nearer the verge
of hopeless penury, and the quondam friends who had been warmest in their
professions, grew strangely cold and indifferent. He had children whom
he loved, and a wife on whom he doted. The former turned their backs on
him; the latter died broken-hearted. He went with the stream--it had
ever been his failing, and he had not courage sufficient to bear up
against so many shocks--he had never cared for himself, and the only
being who had cared for him, in his poverty and distress, was spared to
him no longer. It was at this period that he applied for parochial
relief. Some kind-hearted man who had known him in happier times,
chanced to be churchwarden that year, and through his interest he was
appointed to his present situation.

He is an old man now. Of the many who once crowded round him in all the
hollow friendship of boon-companionship, some have died, some have fallen
like himself, some have prospered--all have forgotten him. Time and
misfortune have mercifully been permitted to impair his memory, and use
has habituated him to his present condition. Meek, uncomplaining, and
zealous in the discharge of his duties, he has been allowed to hold his
situation long beyond the usual period; and he will no doubt continue to
hold it, until infirmity renders him incapable, or death releases him.
As the grey-headed old man feebly paces up and down the sunny side of the
little court-yard between school hours, it would be difficult, indeed,
for the most intimate of his former friends to recognise their once gay
and happy associate, in the person of the Pauper Schoolmaster.

CHAPTER II--THE CURATE. THE OLD LADY. THE HALF-PAY CAPTAIN

We commenced our last chapter with the beadle of our parish, because we
are deeply sensible of the importance and dignity of his office. We will
begin the present, with the clergyman. Our curate is a young gentleman
of such prepossessing appearance, and fascinating manners, that within
one month after his first appearance in the parish, half the young-lady
inhabitants were melancholy with religion, and the other half, desponding
with love. Never were so many young ladies seen in our parish church on
Sunday before; and never had the little round angels' faces on Mr.
Tomkins's monument in the side aisle, beheld such devotion on earth as
they