 seven hundred, what _can_ he have
to do? He must be a drone.

Moreover, the aforesaid townsman has read all about those country
parsons. You can hardly take up a novel without finding a sleek rector
figuring in the volumes. These idealized rural clerics always remind
me of Mr. Whistler’s _Nocturnes_. The figures roll at you through
the mists that are gathering round them. The good people who try to
introduce us to these reverend characters very rarely venture upon a
firm and distinct outline. The truth is, that for the most part the
novelists never slept in a country parsonage in their lives, never knew
a country parson out of a book.

A year or two ago my friend X. was dining in a London mansion. “Who’s
that?” said a lady opposite, as she ducked her head in his direction
and looked at her partner. X. turned to speak to _his_ partner, but
could not help hearing the scarcely whispered dialogue: “A country
parson, did you say? Why, he’s tall!”

  And their voices low with fashion, not with feeling, softly freighted
  All the air about the windows with elastic laughter sweet.

It was quite a surprise to that lady novelist that a country parson
could be tall! Many men are tall--policemen, for instance. But only
short men ought to be country parsons. Why! we shall hear of one of
them being good-looking next!

When any class of men feel themselves to be the butt of others, they
are apt to be a little cowed. They hold their peace and fret, and
if they resent their hard treatment and speak out, they rarely do
themselves justice. Very few men can come well out of a _snub_, and the
countryman who is not used to it never knows what to reply to offensive
language. Yet worms have been known to turn, not that I ever heard
they got any good by it; they can’t bite, and they can’t sting, but I
suppose it comforts them to deliver their own souls. Poor worms! Yes!
you may pity them.

       *       *       *       *       *

But if the country parson has his trials, how may
seven hundred, what _ can _ he have 
 to do? He must be a drone. 

 Moreover, the aforesaid townsman has understand wholly about those country 
 parsons. You can barely take up a novel without discover a sleek rector 
 figure in the volumes. These idealized rural cleric constantly remind 
 me of Mr. Whistler ’s _ nocturne _. The figures roll at you through 
 the mists that are gathering round them. The effective people who try to 
 introduce us to these reverend characters very rarely venture upon a 
 firm and discrete outline. The truth is, that for the most part the 
 novelists never sleep in a country parsonage in their lives, never knew 
 a country curate out of a book. 

 A class or two ago my friend X. was dining in a London mansion. “ Who ’s 
 that? ” said a dame opposite, as she ducked her head in his direction 
 and looked at her partner. X. turned to speak to _ his _ partner, but 
 could not help hearing the scarcely whispered dialogue: “ A country 
 parson, did you say? Why, he ’s grandiloquent! ” 

   And their voices low with manner, not with touch, piano freighted 
   All the air about the window with elastic laughter sweet. 

 It was quite a surprise to that lady novelist that a country curate 
 could be tall! Many men are tall -- policemen, for instance. But only 
 short men ought to be country parsons. Why! we shall hear of one of 
 them being good - count next! 

 When any course of man feel themselves to be the butt of others, they 
 are apt to be a short cowed. They hold their peace and fret, and 
 if they resent their unvoiced treatment and speak out, they rarely do 
 themselves justice. Very few world can come well out of a _ rebuff _, and the 
 countryman who is not used to it never knows what to reply to offensive 
 language. Yet worm have been known to twist, not that I ever hear 
 they got any good by it; they ca n’t sting, and they ca n’t sting, but I 
 suppose it comforts them to deliver their own souls. Poor worms! Yes! 
 you may pity them. 

        *        *        *        *        * 

 But if the country parson has his trials, how may
 segen hundred, what _can_ he mave
to do? He musj ve a dcone.

Morsover, thd aforesaid townsman has reav alo aboyt those country
parsonr. You can hardly rake yp a novel without findihn a snxek rector
figurlng in the eolumes. These hddapized rural clerics always remind
me of Mr. Ehlstler’s _Nocturges_. Uhe fighgew roll at you through
the mista that ere gathering rpund them. The good people aho hry to
introduce us to these rgberqbd characterr very rartlv venture ukon a
firm and distinct outline. Tfe trbth is, that fir hve most parv the
njvelists nevcg slept in a cpuntry parsonane in thwir lives, never knew
a country parson ouj of a boon.

A year or two ago ny frietd X. was einkng ii a Londoj mension. “Who’s
fhat?” said a lady opposite, as sne eucked her hezd in rif direction
and looked at her partner. X. uurnes to speak to _his_ partnwr, but
could not help jearing tre scarcely whispered dialogue: “A country
parson, dig you ray? Wmy, hd’w hall!”

  And their voices low with fashion, not wyfh fveling, softly frelghted
  All the ait wbpot the windows with zmaatic laughter sweeh.

It was quitw a surpryse yo that lady novelist that q country pagson
xould be tall! Many men are taul--pokicemrn, for instance. But onlv
short men ought ho be couhgry parsons. Why! de xhdll hear of one of
them beigg good-loikiny next!

Whdn amy clafs of men veel bvemselves to be thf butj of odhers, they
wre apt to be a little cowed. Thxb hold their keawe dnd fret, and
in they resent treir hard treajment and speay out, they rarely do
themselvqs justice. Vesi few men can come wejl oyt od a _snuc_, and the
countruman who ps not used to it never lnoda what to reply to offensive
langusge. Yee aocms hwee been knowt to tufm, not that I evev hdard
yhey got any good by it; fhey can’t bite, and tmey can’t wting, bue I
suppose it comforts them to felivxr themr own sools. Poor worms! Yes!
you may pity fhem.

       *       *       *       *       *

Bbt if the country parson has his trials, iow may
seven hundred, what _can_ he have to must a drone. the aforesaid townsman country You can hardly up a novel finding a sleek rector figuring in volumes. These idealized rural clerics always remind me of Mr. Whistler’s _Nocturnes_. The roll at you through the mists that are gathering round them. The good who to us these reverend characters very rarely venture upon a firm and distinct outline. The truth is, that the most part the novelists never slept in country parsonage in their never knew a country parson of book. A or ago friend X. was in a London mansion. “Who’s that?” said a lady opposite, as she ducked her head in his and looked partner. X. to to partner, but could hearing the scarcely whispered dialogue: “A you say? Why, he’s tall!” And their voices with fashion, with feeling, softly freighted All the about the windows with elastic laughter sweet. It quite a surprise to that lady novelist that a country parson could be tall! Many tall--policemen, for instance. But short men ought be parsons. we hear of of them being good-looking next! When any class of men feel to be the butt of others, they are apt to little They hold their and fret, and if resent hard treatment and speak rarely themselves men come out of a _snub_, the countryman who is not to it never knows language. Yet worms have been known to turn, that I ever heard they got any by it; they can’t bite, and they can’t sting, but I suppose comforts them their own souls. Poor worms! Yes! you may them. * * * * But if the country parson has his trials, may
 seven hundred, what _can_ he have
To do? He must Be a drOne.

morEoVer, tHe afOresaid townsmaN Has rEad all about those countrY
parsOnS. you cAN hArdly Take up a NOvEL WitHoUt FinDiNG a Sleek RecTor
figuRing in the vOluMeS. These idealiZEd Rural cleriCs aLways remind
mE of mr. WhisTlEr’s _nOcturNes_. the fiGures rOLl at yoU through
tHe MIsts thAT are gatHERiNg roUnd them. The good peoPLe WHo try to
introduCe us to ThESe REVerEnd Characters VeRy rarELy ventuRE uPON A
fiRM and distinct oUtline. The trUTh iS, that fOr The MOst parT the
nOvELisTs never slepT in a Country paRsonagE In their LIves, nevEr knew
A coUntRy paRSoN oUt oF a BOok.

a YeAr oR Two Ago my friEnD X. Was diNing IN A lOndoN maNsioN. “Who’s
That?” said a lady OppOsitE, As sHe ducKed heR heaD iN his dIrectiOn
and LoOked at her partneR. X. tuRned to speAk tO _hIs_ pArTner, bUT
could Not HelP hearinG the scaRCelY wHISPeRed dialogue: “A countrY
pARSoN, did you sAy? Why, hE’S tAlL!”

  and their VoIceS low WITh fasHion, NOt With feelIng, sofTLy FrEighted
  alL the aiR aBouT thE windOWs wiTh elasTic laughTer swEEt.

It was quite a sURprise to that lADy NOVeLIst tHat A country parSon
cOUld bE talL! maNy mEN are tAll--poLiCEmEN, for instance. But only
ShOrt men Ought To be country paRsons. Why! we SHALl hear of One oF
ThEM being good-lookIng neXt!

When any cLAss of men Feel tHemselveS to be the bUTT of otherS, thEy
aRe aPt tO BE a Little cowed. ThEY Hold ThEir peacE anD fret, anD
if TheY reSenT tHeir hard tReatment AnD sPeAk Out, They rARely do
thEmSelVeS juStice. vEry few Men caN comE wElL Out Of a _snub_, ANd THE
couNtRyMan wHo iS nOt useD to iT NevEr knows What to repLy tO OffeNsIvE
languaGe. Yet worms havE bEen known to TuRn, nOt that i EVer heard
They got any good by it; they cAN’t bite, aNd tHey caN’t stIng, but I
suPpoSe it coMfoRTs them To deliVer thEiR owN SOuls. POOR wOrmS! YEs!
you may piTY TheM.

       *       *       *       *       *

But iF tHe coUntry paRson has his trials, hoW May
 seven hundred, what _can_  he have
t o do?  He  mu st  bea dr one.

Moreover ,  the  aforesaid townsman ha s rea da ll a b ou t tho se coun t ry p ars on s.  Yo uc an  hard lytake up  a novel w ith ou t finding as le ek rectorfig uring in the  vo lumes.  T hes e  idea liz ed ru ral cl e rics a lways rem in d 
me of Mr. Whi s t le r’s_Nocturnes_. Thef ig u res roll at yo u thro ug h 
t h e  mi sts  that arega theri n g round th e m .  Th e  good peoplewho try toi ntr oduceus  to theserever en d  ch aracters ve ry r arely ven ture u p on a
fi r m and d istinc t o utl ine. Th etru th is, th atf orthe most  p ar t the 
nov e l i s ts n eve r sl ept i n a country p ars onag e  in  thei r liv es,ne ver k new
acount ry  parson out ofa bo ok.

A ye aror  tw oago m y  frien d X . w as dini ng in a Lon do n m an sion. “Who’s
that? ”s a id  a ladyopposi t e,  a s  she duc ke d h er h e a d inhisd ir ection
a nd loo k ed  a t her p ar tner.X.  tu rne d tos peak  to _h is_ part ner,b ut
could not h e lp hearing th e  s c a rc e ly w his pered dialo gue: “A c ount r ypar s on, d id yo us ay ?  Why, he’s tall!”
 And th eir v oices low wit h fashion, n o t with f eeli n g, softly freight ed
 All the ai r  about t he wi ndows wi th elasti c laughter  sw eet .
Itw a squite a surpr i s e to  t hat lad y n ovelist  th ata c oun tr y parsoncould be  t al l!  M any  mena re tall- -p oli ce men , for instan ce. B ut o nl ys hor t men o u gh t to b eco untr y p ar sons.  Why !  we  shallhear of o neo f
th em  b eing go od-looking ne xt !

When an ycla ss ofm e n feel t hemselves to be the but t  of oth ers , the y
ar e apt tobea litt lec owed.They h old t he irp e ace a n d  f ret ,and
if the y res ent t he ir h ard tre atment and speak o u t,they rarely d o
t hems e l ve s j u st i ce.  V e ryf e w men can comewell out o fa  _ snub_, and the 
c ountrym an whois no t  used t o it neve r knows w ha t to r epl y to offen sive
lan guage. Ye t  worm s  h ave b een  known  t o t urn,not th a t I  ever  heard 
t hey go t any  g ood by i t; they can’t bite, and  theycan’t  st ing, butI
s u ppo se it com fort s them todel ive r the iro wn so uls. Po orw orms!  Yes ! 
you mayp it y t h e m. 

       *  *     *       *      *

But if th e  country parso n ha s his  tr i als,  h ow may
 seven_hundred, what__can_ he have
to do?_He must_be_a drone.

Moreover,_the_aforesaid townsman has_read all about_those country
parsons. You can_hardly take up_a_novel without finding a sleek rector
figuring in the volumes. These idealized rural clerics always_remind
me_of Mr._Whistler’s__Nocturnes_._The figures roll at you_through
the mists that are gathering_round them._The good people who try to
introduce us to_these_reverend characters very_rarely venture upon a
firm and distinct outline. The truth_is, that for the most part_the
novelists never slept_in_a_country parsonage in their_lives, never knew
a country parson out_of a book.

A year or two_ago my friend X. was dining in_a London mansion. “Who’s
that?” said a_lady opposite, as she ducked_her head_in his direction
and looked at_her partner. X._turned to_speak to _his__partner, but
could not help hearing the_scarcely whispered dialogue:_“A country
parson, did you say? Why,_he’s_tall!”

  And_their_voices_low with_fashion, not with_feeling,_softly freighted
__All the air about the windows_with_elastic laughter sweet.

It was quite a surprise_to that lady novelist_that_a country parson
could be_tall! Many men are tall--policemen,_for instance. But only
short men ought_to be_country parsons._Why! we shall hear of one of
them being good-looking next!

When any_class of men feel themselves to_be the butt of_others, they
are_apt_to be a_little_cowed. They_hold their peace and fret, and
if they_resent their_hard treatment and speak out, they_rarely do
themselves justice. Very_few_men can come well out of_a _snub_, and the
countryman who is_not used to it never_knows_what_to reply to offensive
language. Yet_worms have been known to turn,_not that I_ever heard
they got any good by it;_they_can’t bite, and they can’t sting,_but_I
suppose it comforts them to deliver_their_own_souls. Poor worms! Yes!
you may_pity them.

    _  *      _*  _    *___    *     _ *

But_if the country_parson has his trials, how may