of a
good pinch of snuff than of warring about creeds, much more in love
with a quiet chat than of platform violence, and would far sooner
offer you a glass of wine, and ask you to take another when you had
done it, than fight with you about piety. He is a man of peace, of
homely, disposition, of kindly thought, unobtrusive in style,
sincere in action, with nothing bombastic in his nature, and nothing
self-righteous in his speech. His sermons are neither profound nor
simple--they are made up of fair medium material; and are discharged
rapidly. There is no effort at rhetorical flourish in his style; a
simple lifting of the right hand, with an easy swaying motion, is
all the "action" you perceive. Canon Walker speaks with a rapidity
seldom noticed. Average talkers can get through about 120 words in a
minute; Canon Walker can manage 200 nicely, and show no signs of
being out of breath.

The Rev. Mr. Hawkesworth--a bright-eyed, rubicund-featured
gentleman, with a slight disposition to corporeal rotundity--is the
second priest. He is a sharp, kindly-humoured gentleman, and does
not appear to have suffered in either mind or body by a four years
residence in Rome. Mr. Hawkesworth is a practical priest, a good
singer, and a hard worker. He resides with Canon Walker in a
spacious house adjoining St. Augustine's. No unusual sounds have
ever been heard to proceed from the residence, and it may fairly be
inferred that they dwell together to harmony. The house is
substantially furnished. The library within it is not very large,
but what it lacks in bulk is made up for by variety. Its contents
range from the Clockmaker of Sam Slick to the Imitation of Thomas a
Kempis, from Little Dorrit to the Greek Lexicon. Not far from St.
Augustine's Church there is a convent. It is the old Larkhill
mansion transmuted, and is one of the most pleasantly situated
houses in this locality. In front of it you have flowers of
delicious hues, shrubs of every kind, grassy undulations, rare old
shady trees, a small artificial lake, a fountain--shall we go on
piling up the agony of beauty until we reach a Claude Melnotte
altitude? It is unnecessary; all we need add is this--that the
grounds are a lovely picture, delightfully formed, and most snugly
set. The convent is a large, clean, airy establishment. The entrance
hall is handsome; some of the apartments are choicely furnished, the
walls being decorated with pictures, &c., made by either the nuns or
t