r it under three points of view: as
a question of climate in general, comparing England with other countries
in this respect; as a personal question, inquiring how it affected his
lady interlocutor in particular; and as a question of probabilities,
discussing whether there would be a change or a continuance of the
present atmospheric conditions. To gentlemen he talked politics, and he
read two daily papers expressly to qualify himself for this function. Mr.
Barton thought him a man of considerable political information, but not
of lively parts.

'And so you are always to hold your Clerical Meetings at Mr. Ely's?' said
the Countess, between her spoonfuls of soup. (The soup was a little
over-spiced. Mrs. Short of Camp Villa, who was in the habit of letting
her best apartments, gave only moderate wages to her cook.)

'Yes,' said Mr. Barton; 'Milby is a central place, and there are many
conveniences in having only one point of meeting.'

'Well,' continued the Countess, 'every one seems to agree in giving the
precedence to Mr. Ely. For my part, I _cannot_ admire him. His preaching
is too cold for me. It has no fervour--no heart. I often say to my
brother, it is a great comfort to me that Shepperton Church is not too
far off for us to go to; don't I, Edmund?'

'Yes,' answered Mr. Bridmain; 'they show us into such a bad pew at
Milby--just where there is a draught from that door. I caught a stiff
neck the first time I went there.'

'O, it is the cold in the pulpit that affects me, not the cold in the
pew. I was writing to my friend Lady Porter this morning, and telling her
all about my feelings. She and I think alike on such matters. She is most
anxious that when Sir William has an opportunity of giving away the
living at their place, Dippley, they should have a thoroughly zealous
clever man there. I have been describing a certain friend of mine to her,
who, I think, would be just to her mind. And there is such a pretty
rectory, Milly; shouldn't I like to see you the mistress of it?'

Milly smiled and blushed slightly. The Rev. Amos blushed very red, and
gave a little embarrassed laugh--he could rarely keep his muscles within
the limits of a smile. At this moment John, the man-servant, approached
Mrs. Barton with a gravy-tureen, and also with a slight odour of the
stable, which usually adhered to him through his in-door functions. John
was rather nervous; and the Countess happening to speak to him at this
inopportune mome