Commandments, and whose religious observances had not hitherto
interfered with either the pleasures or the duties of his life,
repeated at every meeting which he attended, and almost to every
elector whom he canvassed, the great Shibboleth which he had now
adopted--"The prosperity of England depends on the Church of her
people." He was not an orator. Indeed, it might be hard to find a
man, who had for years been conversant with public life, less able
to string a few words together for immediate use. Nor could he learn
half-a-dozen sentences by rote. But he could stand up with unabashed
brow and repeat with enduring audacity the same words a dozen times
over--"The prosperity of England depends on the Church of her
people." Had he been asked whether the prosperity which he promised
was temporal or spiritual in its nature, not only could he not have
answered, but he would not in the least have understood the question.
But the words as they came from his mouth had a weight which seemed
to ensure their truth, and many men in Tankerville thought that Mr.
Browborough was eloquent.

Phineas, on the other hand, made two or three great speeches every
evening, and astonished even Mr. Ruddles by his oratory. He had
accepted Mr. Ruddles's proposition with but lukewarm acquiescence,
but in the handling of the matter he became zealous, fiery,
and enthusiastic. He explained to his hearers with gracious
acknowledgment that Church endowments had undoubtedly been most
beneficent in past times. He spoke in the interests of no special
creed. Whether in the so-called Popish days of Henry VIII and his
ancestors, or in the so-called Protestant days that had followed,
the state of society had required that spiritual teaching should be
supplied from funds fixed and devoted to the purpose. The increasing
intelligence and population of the country made this no longer