ed it would like--in their reticules. The
toads, I suppose, knew when it was Sunday--their feeding day; at all
events they would crawl out of their holes in the floor under the pews
to receive their rations--and caresses. The toads got on my nerves with
rather unpleasant consequences. I preached in a way which my listeners
did not appreciate or properly understand, particularly when I took for
my subject our duty towards the lower animals, including reptiles."

"Batrachians," I interposed, echoing as well as I could the tone in
which he had rebuked me before.

"Very well, batrachians--I am not a naturalist. But the impression
created on their minds appeared to be that I was rather an odd person
in the pulpit. When the time came to pull the old church down the
toad-keepers were bidden to remove their pets, which they did with
considerable reluctance. What became of them I do not know--I never
inquired. I used to have a careful inspection made of the floor to make
sure that these creatures were not put back in the new building, and I
am happy to think it is not suited to their habits. The floors are very
well cemented, and are dry and clean."

Having finished his story he invited me to go to the parsonage and get
some refreshment. "I daresay you are thirsty," he said.

But it was getting late; it was almost dark in the church by now,
although the figure of the golden-haired saint still glowed in the
window and gazed at us out of her blue eyes. "I must not waste more of
your time," I added. "There are your boys still patiently waiting to
begin their practice--such nice quiet fellows!"

"Yes, they are," he returned a little bitterly, a sudden accent of
weariness in his voice and no trace now of what I had seen in his
countenance a little while ago--the light that shone and brightened
behind the dark eye and the little play about the corners of the mouth
as of dimpling motions on the surface of a pool.

And in that new guise, or disguise, I left him, the austere priest with
nothing to suggest the whimsical or grotesque in his cold ascetic face.
Recrossing the bridge I stood a little time and looked once more at the
noble church tower standing dark against the clear amber-coloured sky,
and said to myself: "Why, this is one of the oddest incidents of my
life! Not that I have seen or heard anything very wonderful--just a
small rustic village, one of a thousand in the land; a big new church in
which some person was playing