things Mrs. Swiggs listens with delight.

Spyke, too, is in every way a well made-up man, being extremely tall
and lean of figure, with nice Saxon hair and whiskers, mild but
thoughtful blue eyes, an anxious expression of countenance, a thin,
squeaking voice, and features sufficiently delicate and regular for
his calling. His dress, too, is always exactly clerical. If he be
cold and pedantic in his manner, the fault must be set down to the
errors of the profession, rather than to any natural inclination of
his own. But what is singular of Brother Spyke is, that,
notwithstanding his passion for delving the heathen world, and
dragging into Christian light and love the benighted wretches there
found, he has never in his life given a thought for that heathen
world at his own door-a heathen world sinking in the blackest pool
of misery and death, in the very heart of an opulent city, over
which it hurls its seething pestilence, and scoffs at the commands
of high heaven. No, he never thought of that Babylon of vice and
crime-that heathen world pleading with open jaws at his own door. He
had no thought for how much money might be saved, and how much more
good done, did he but turn his eyes, go into this dark world (the
Points) pleading at his feet, nerve himself to action, and lend a
strong hand to help drag off the film of its degradation. In
addition to this, Brother Spyke was sharp enough to discover the
fact that a country parson does not enjoy the most enviable
situation. A country parson must put up with the smallest salary; he
must preach the very best of sermons; he must flatter and flirt with
all the marriageable ladies of his church; he must consult the
tastes, but offend none of the old ladies; he must submit to have
the sermon he strained his brain to make perfect, torn to pieces by
a dozen wise old women, who claim the right of carrying the church