gh to keep up a service, for some of them will be rich?'

'Some are very rich,' said Issachar, wrinkling his face with
satisfaction when he said the words.

'Then how is it you don't always keep up the service?'

But Issachar had no explanation to give. He polished his candlestick the
more vigorously, and related at some length what he knew of the present
reader, which was, in fact, nothing, except that he was a foreigner and
had only offered to read while he was visiting the town.

'I have come for the service,' said the curate.

'Better not,' said Issachar; 'it's short to-night, and there'll not be
many.'

The curate answered by opening the inner door and entering. There were
some high pews up and down the sides of the room. There was a curtain at
the farther end and a reading desk in the centre, both of which were
enclosed in a railing ornamented by brass knobs, and in which were set
high posts supporting gas-lamps, nine in all, which were lit, either for
heat or ceremony, and turned down to a subdued light. The evening light
entered through the domed roof. Hebrew texts which the curate could not
decipher were painted on the dark walls. He took off his hat reverently
and sat down. There was no one there. He felt very much surprised at
finding himself alone. To his impressible nervous nature it seemed that
he had suddenly entered a place far removed in time and space from the
every-day life with which he was so familiar. He sat a long time; it was
cold, and the evening light grew dim, and yet no one came. Issachar
entered now and then, and made brief remarks about sundry things as he
gave additional polish to the knobs on the railing, but he always went
out again.

At length a side door opened and the reader came in from his vestry. He
had apparently waited in hope of a congregation, but now came in to
perform his duty without their aid. Perhaps he was not so much
disappointed as the curate was. It would have been very difficult to
tell from looking at him what his emotions were. He was a stout large
man with a coarse brown beard. There was little to be seen of his face
but the hair upon it, and one gathered the suggestion, although it was
hard to know from what, that the man and his beard were not as clean as
might be. He wore a black gown and an ordinary high silk hat, although
pushed much farther back on his head than an Englishman would have worn
it. He walked heavily and clumsily inside the railing, and st