e," was the reply; "but we
working-people sometimes see things in a different light from what those
above us does,--at least so far as our experience goes."

"That's just it, Thomas. It will interest Dr Prosser, I know, to hear
how a theory about religion and truth, which is becoming very
fashionable in our day, would suit yourself and the quick-witted and
warm-hearted people you have daily to deal with."

"Let me hear it, sir, and I'll answer according to the best of my
judgment."

The vicar then repeated to Bradly the substance of the conversation
between himself and the doctor on religious dogmatism and breadth of
views.

"Ah, well," cried Thomas laughing, "you're almost too deep for me. But
it comes into my mind what happened to me a good many years ago, when I
were quite a young man. There were a nobleman in our parts,--I wasn't
living at Crossbourne then,--and his son came of age, and such a feast
there was as I never saw afore or since, and I hope I never may again.
Well, my father's family had been in that country for many generations,
and so they turned us into gentlefolks, me and my father, that day, and
we sat down to dinner with the quality; and a grand dinner it was for
certain. When it was all over, as I thought, and the parson had
returned thanks, just as I were for getting up and going, they brings
round some plates with great glass bowls in 'em, nearly full of water,
something like what an old aunt of mine used to keep gold-fish in; and
there was a knife and fork on each plate. Then the servants brings all
sorts of fruits,--apples and pears, and peaches and grapes,--and sets
'em on the table. I was asked what I'd have, and I chose a great rosy-
cheeked apple. And then I were going to bite a great piece out of it,
but a gent as sat next me whispers, `Cut it, man; it's more civil to cut
it.' So I takes up the knife, which had got a mother-o'-pearl handle to
it, and tries to cut the apple, but I could only make a mark on it such
as you see on a hot-cross-bun. Then I looked at the blade of the knife,
and it were just like silver, but were as blunt as a broomstick.
However, I tried again, but it wouldn't cut; so I axes a tall chap in
livery as stood behind my chair if they'd such a thing as a butcher's
steel in the house, for I wanted to put an edge to my knife. Eh, you
should have seen that fellow grin! `No, sir,' he says, `we ain't got
nothing of the sort.' `Well, then,' says I, `take this