told of him. What was it to him, for
instance, if they took advantage of his hasty language to declare that
he was in the constant habit of swearing, when he knew that even from
boyhood no oath had ever crossed his lips? What was it to him that
these uneducated boors, in their feeble ignorance, tried constantly to
entrap him into something which they called unorthodox, and to twist his
words into the semblance of fancied heresy? It was more painful to him
that they opposed and vilified every one whom he helped, and whose
interests, in pity, he endeavoured to forward. But still he bore on, he
struggled on, till the _denouement_ came. It is not worth while
entering into the various schemes invented for his annoyance, but at
last an unfortunate, although purely accidental, discrepancy was
detected in the accounts of one of the parish charities which Mr
Kenrick officially managed. Mr Hugginson seized his long-looked-for
opportunity: he went round the parish, and got a large number of his
creatures among the congregation to affirm by their signatures that Mr
Kenrick had behaved dishonestly. This memorial he sent to the bishop,
and disseminated among all the clergy with malicious assiduity. At the
next clerical meeting Mr Kenrick found himself most coldly received.
Compelled in self-defence to take legal proceedings against the squire,
he found himself involved in heavy expenses. He won his cause, and his
character was cleared; but the jury, attending only to the
technicalities of the case, and conceiving that there was enough _prima
facie_ evidence to justify Mr Hugginson's proceedings, left each side
to pay their own costs. These costs swallowed up the whole of the poor
curate's private resources, and also involved him in debt. The agony,
the suspense, the shame, the cruel sense of oppression and injustice,
bore with a crushing weight on his weakened health. He could not
tolerate that the merest breath of suspicion, however false, should pass
over his fair and honourable name. He pined away over the atrocious
calumny; it poisoned for him the very life-springs of happiness, and
destroyed his peace of mind for ever. This young man, in the flower of
youth--a man who might have been a leader and teacher of men--a man of
gracious presence and high power--died of a broken heart. He died of a
broken heart, and all Fuzby built his conspicuous tomb, and shed
crocodile tears over his pious memory. Truly, as some one ha