is not so much the thing that offends the "unco guid"; it is the
name, the reflection, the idea. Unhealthy-minded himself, he dreads a
taint where there is none, and imagines in others a corruption which
exists only in himself.

Yet the One, whom he would fain call Master, but whose teachings he is
slow in following, said: "Woe be to them by whom offense cometh." But
the "unco guid" is a Christian failure, a _parvenu_.

* * * * *

The _parvenu_ is a person who makes strenuous efforts to persuade other
people that he is entitled to the position he occupies.

There are _parvenus_ in religion, as there are _parvenus_ in the
aristocracy, in society, in literature, in the fine arts, etc.

The worst type of the French _parvenu_ is the one whose father was a
worthy, hard-working man called _Dubois_ or _Dumont_, and who, at his
father's death, dubs himself _du Bois_ or _du Mont_, becomes a
clericalist and the stanchest monarchist, and runs down the great
Revolution which made one of his grand-parents a man. M. _du Bois_ or
_du Mont_ outdoes the genuine nobleman, who needs make no noise to
attract attention to a name which everybody knows, and which, in spite
of what may be said on the subject, often recalls the memory of some
glorious event in the past.

[Illustration: THE PARVENU.]

The worst type of Anglo-Saxon _parvenu_ is probably the "unco guid," or
religious _parvenu_.

The Anglo-Saxon "unco guid" is seldom to be found among Roman Catholics;
that is, among the followers of the most ancient Christian religion. He
is to be found among the followers of the newest forms of
"Christianity." This is quite natural. He has to try to eclipse his
fellow-Christians by his piety, in order to show that the new religion
to which he belongs was a necessary invention.

The Anglo-Saxon "unco guid" is easily recognized. He is dark (all bigots
and fanatics are). He is dressed in black, shiny broadcloth raiment. A
wide-brimmed felt hat covers his head. He walks with light, short,
jaunty steps, his head a little inclined on one side. He never carries a
stick, which might give a rather fast appearance to his turn-out. He
invariably carries an umbrella, even in the brightest weather, as being
more respectable--and this umbrella he never rolls, for he would avoid
looking in the distance as if he had a stick. He casts right and left
little grimaces that are so many forced smiles of self-satisfaction.
"Try