then. But I won't be a priest to you, I'll be a big brother."

For the priesthood passes away, the brotherhood endures. The
priesthood passes away, swallowed up in the brotherhood. It is
because men cannot learn simple things, cannot believe in the
brotherhood, that they need a priesthood. But as Dr Arnold said of
the Sunday, "They DO need it." And I, for one, am sure that the
priesthood needs the people much more than the people needs the
priesthood.

So I stooped and lifted the child and held him in my arms. And the
little fellow looked at me one moment longer, and then put his arms
gently round my neck. And so we were friends. When I had set him
down, which I did presently, for I shuddered at the idea of the
people thinking that I was showing off the CLERGYMAN, I looked at
the boy. In his face was great sweetness mingled with great
rusticity, and I could not tell whether he was the child of
gentlefolk or of peasants. He did not say a word, but walked away to
join his aunt, who was waiting for him at the gate of the
churchyard. He kept his head turned towards me, however, as he went,
so that, not seeing where he was going, he stumbled over the grave
of a child, and fell in the hollow on the other side. I ran to pick
him up. His aunt reached him at the same moment.

"Oh, thank you, sir!" she said, as I gave him to her, with an
earnestness which seemed to me disproportionate to the deed, and
carried him away with a deep blush over all her countenance.

At the churchyard-gate, the old man-of-war's man was waiting to have
another look at me. His hat was in his hand, and he gave a pull to