n, are only calculated to
envenom the feelings, to extinguish charity, and to contract the
heart. Nay, more, there never was a discussion, they said--and we join
them--since the days of Ussher and the Jesuit, that did not terminate in
a tumult of angry and unchristian recrimination, in which all the common
courtesies of life, not to mention the professed duties of Christian
men, were trampled on, and violated without scruple. In the preparations
for the forthcoming discussion, therefore, neither of these worthy men
took any part whatsoever. The severe duties of so large a parish, the
calls of the sick, the poor, and the dying, together with the varied
phases of human misery that pressed upon their notice as they toiled
through the obscure and neglected paths of life, all in their opinion,
and, in ours, too, constituted a sufficiently ample code of duty,
without embroiling themselves in these loud and turbulent encounters.

Mr. Clement, who, on this same day, had received a message from Mr.
Lucre, found that gentleman in remarkably good spirits. He had just
received a present of a fine haunch of venison from a fox-hunting
nobleman in the neighborhood, and was gloating over it, ere its descent
into the larder, with the ruddy fire of epicurism blazing in his eyes.
"Clement," said he, with a grave, subdued grunt of enjoyment, "come this
way--turn up the venison, Francis--eh, what say you now, Clement? Look
at the depth of the fat!--what a prime fellow that was!--see the flank
he had!--six inches on the ribs at, least! As our countryman, Goldsmith,
says, 'the lean was so white, and the fat was so ruddy.'"

Clement had often before witnessed this hot spirit of luxury, which
becomes doubly carnal and gross in a minister of God. On this occasion
he did not even smile, but replied gravely, "I am not a judge of
venison, Mr. Lucre; but, I believe you have misquoted the poet, who, I
think, says, 'the fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy.'"

"Well, that's not much, Clement; but, if you were a judge, this would
both delight and astonish you. Now, Francis, I charge you, as you value
your place, your reputation, your future welfare, to be cautious
in dressing it. You know how I wish it done, and, besides, Lord
Mountmorgage, Sir Harry Beevor, Lord ------, and a few clerical friends,
are to dine with me. Come in Clement--Francis, you have heard what
I said! If that haunch is spoiled, I shall discharge you without a
character mos