t let me
tell you something about him. He was a poor curate in the country where
the lord of the manor chanced to be a lady. He married the lady of the
manor. His wife died and he bought a London parish. Then, by the help of
an old actor who gave lessons in elocution, he--well, he set up his
Pentecost. Since then he has been a fashionable preacher and frequents
the houses of great people. Ten years ago he was made an honorary canon,
and, when he hears of an appointment to a bishopric, he says in a tearful
voice, 'I don't know what the dear Queen has got against me.'"

"Well, sir?"

"Well, if I had known you felt like that I should scarcely have sent you
to Canon Wealthy. And yet I hardly know where else a young man of your
opinions... I'm afraid the Church has a good many Canon Wealthys in it."

"God forbid!" said John. "No doubt there are Pharisees in these days just
as in the days of Christ, but the Church is still the pillar of the
State----"

"The caterpillar, you mean, boy--eating out its heart and its vitals."

The Prime Minister gave another bitter little laugh, then looked quickly
into John's flushed face and said:

"But it's poor work for an old man to sap away a young man's enthusiasm."

"You can't do that, uncle," said John, "because God is the absolute ruler
of all things, good and bad, and he governs both to his glory. Let him
only give us strength to endure our exile----"

"I don't like to hear you talk like that, John. I think I know what the
upshot will be. There's a gang of men about--Anglican Catholics they
call themselves; well, remember the German proverb, 'Every priestling
hides a popeling.'... And if you _are_ to be in the Church, John, is
there any reason why you shouldn't marry and be reasonable? To tell you
the truth, I'm rather a lonely old man, whatever I may seem, and if your
mother's son would give me a sort of a grandson--eh?"

The Prime Minister was pretending to laugh again.

"Come, John, come, it seems a pity--a fine young fellow like you, too.
Are there no sweet young girls about in these days? Or are they all dead
and gone since I was a young fellow? I could give you a wide choice, you
know, for when a man stands high enough... in fact, you would find me
reasonable--you might have anybody you liked, rich or poor, dark or
fair.----"

John Storm had been sitting in torment, and now he rose to go. "No,
uncle," he said, in a thicker voice, "I shall never marry. A clergyman
who