ter, Mr. Tryan; I've been a Dissenter ever
sin' I was fifteen 'ear old; but show me good i' the Church, an' I'm a
Churchman too. When I was a boy I lived at Tilston; you mayn't know the
place; the best part o' the land there belonged to Squire Sandeman; he'd
a club-foot, had Squire Sandeman--lost a deal o' money by canal shares.
Well, sir, as I was sayin', I lived at Tilston, an' the rector there was
a terrible drinkin', fox-huntin' man; you niver see'd such a parish i'
your time for wickedness; Milby's nothin' to it. Well, sir, my father was
a workin' man, an' couldn't afford to gi' me ony eddication, so I went to
a night-school as was kep by a Dissenter, one Jacob Wright; an' it was
from that man, sir, as I got my little schoolin' an' my knowledge o'
religion. I went to chapel wi' Jacob--he was a good man was Jacob--an' to
chapel I've been iver since. But I'm no enemy o' the Church, sir, when
the Church brings light to the ignorant and the sinful; an' that's what
you're a-doin', Mr. Tryan. Yes, sir, I'll stan' by you. I'll go to church
wi' you o' Sunday evenin'.'

'You'd far better stay at home, Mr. Jerome, if I may give my opinion,'
interposed Mrs. Jerome. 'It's not as I hevn't ivery respect for you, Mr.
Tryan, but Mr. Jerome 'ull do you no good by his interferin'. Dissenters
are not at all looked on i' Milby, an' he's as nervous as iver he can be;
he'll come back as ill as ill, an' niver let me hev a wink o' sleep all
night.'

Mrs. Jerome had been frightened at the mention of a mob, and her
retrospective regard for the religious communion of her youth by no means
inspired her with the temper of a martyr. Her husband looked at her with
an expression of tender and grieved remonstrance, which might have been
that of the patient patriarch on the memorable occasion when he rebuked
his wife.

'Susan, Susan, let me beg on you not to oppose me, and put
stumblin'-blocks i' the way o' doing' what's right. I can't give up my
conscience, let me give up what else I may.'

'Perhaps,' said Mr. Tryan, feeling slightly uncomfortable, 'since you are
not very strong, my dear sir, it will be well, as Mrs. Jerome suggests,
that you should not run the risk of any excitement.'

'Say no more, Mr. Tryan. I'll stan' by you, sir. It's my duty. It's the
cause o' God, sir; it's the cause o' God.'

Mr. Tryan obeyed his impulse of admiration and gratitude, and put out his
hand to the white-haired old man, saying, 'Thank you, Mr. Jerome, tha