had shrunk from his forehead, which in its broad expanse of shining
whiteness, formed a contrast with a fiery hooked nose with aldermanic
decorations. His gait was shuffling and awkward, and all his carriage
was that of a man who was a sloven in everything; he was slovenly in
his dress, slovenly in his behaviour, slovenly in mind. He had been a
servitor at Oxford, where it can hardly be said that he had received
his education, for though an education had been offered to him both at
school and at Oxford, he had, in both instances, declined the offer,
guessing, perhaps, that with such a mind as his, the acquisition of
mental furniture would be but labour lost. By the tender mercy
however, or by the culpable negligence of college dignitaries and
examining chaplains, he had found his way into the clerical
profession, and had undergone the imposition of episcopal hands, which
was rather an imposition on the public than on him. Yet he lacked not
talent of some kind; he was a good hand at whist, excellent at cudgel
playing, dexterous on the bowling-green, capital at quoits,
unparalleled at rowing a skiff, could play well at nine-pins, could
run, hop, skip, jump or whistle with any man of his years, not
ignorant of the science of self-defence, and when rudely or ruffianly
insulted, could repay the indignity, with interest, at a moment's
notice; his lungs were vigorous, he could blow the French horn with
most poetic and potential blast, and with no mean degree of skill, and
as for preaching he made nothing of it; it used to be said that, with
the assistance of a dexterous parish clerk, he could get through the
whole morning service, sermon and all, in five and thirty minutes; he
was no spoil-pudding except where he dined. With all these talents,
however, he had no preferment in the church, nor even a curacy; but he
had plenty of duty to do of one kind or another, and as all his work
was piece-work, he got through it with as much rapidity as possible.
He was in almost constant requisition, and could be found any morning