than theirselves but the parson. And besides, sir, I'm an old
salt,--an old man-o'-war's man,--and I've been all round the world,
sir; and I ha' been in all sorts o' company, pirates and all, sir;
and I aint a bit frightened of a parson. No; I love a parson, sir.
And I'll tell you for why, sir. He's got a good telescope, and he
gits to the masthead, and he looks out. And he sings out, 'Land
ahead!' or 'Breakers ahead!' and gives directions accordin'. Only I
can't always make out what he says. But when he shuts up his
spyglass, and comes down the riggin', and talks to us like one man
to another, then I don't know what I should do without the parson.
Good evenin' to you, sir, and welcome to Marshmallows."

The pollards did not look half so dreary. The river began to glimmer
a little; and the old bridge had become an interesting old bridge.
The country altogether was rather nice than otherwise. I had found a
friend already!--that is, a man to whom I might possibly be of some
use; and that was the most precious friend I could think of in my
present situation and mood. I had learned something from him too;
and I resolved to try all I could to be the same man in the pulpit
that I was out of it. Some may be inclined to say that I had better
have formed the resolution to be the same man out of the pulpit that
I was in it. But the one will go quite right with the other. Out of
the pulpit I would be the same man I was in it--seeing and feeling
the realities of the unseen; and in the pulpit I would be the same
man I was out of it--taking facts as they are, and dealing with
things as they show themselves in the world.

One other occurrence before I went home that evening, and I shall
close the chapter. I hope I shall not write another so dull as this.
I dare not promise, though; for this is a new kind of work to me.