I have learned since, that perhaps I overrated the spirituality of
those times, and underrated, not being myself spiritual enough to
see all about me, the spirituality of these times. I think I have
learned since, that the parson of a parish must be content to keep
the upper windows of his mind open to the holy winds and the pure
lights of heaven; and the side windows of tone, of speech, of
behaviour open to the earth, to let forth upon his fellow-men the
tenderness and truth which those upper influences bring forth in any
region exposed to their operation. Believing in his Master, such a
servant shall not make haste; shall feel no feverous desire to
behold the work of his hands; shall be content to be as his Master,
who waiteth long for the fruits of His earth.

But surely I am getting older than I thought; for I keep wandering
away from my subject, which is this, my first walk in my new cure.
My excuse is, that I want my reader to understand something of the
state of my mind, and the depression under which I was labouring. He
will perceive that I desired to do some work worth calling by the
name of work, and that I did not see how to get hold of a beginning.

I had not gone far from my own gate before the rain ceased, though
it was still gloomy enough for any amount to follow. I drew down my
umbrella, and began to look about me. The stream on my left was so
swollen that I could see its brown in patches through the green of
the meadows along its banks. A little in front of me, the road,
rising quickly, took a sharp turn to pass along an old stone bridge
that spanned the water with a single fine arch, somewhat pointed;
and through the arch I could see the river stretching away up
through the meadows, its banks bordered with pollards. Now, pollards
always made me miserable. In the first place, they look ill-used; in