before he said anything to rub sore consciences, even when he had them
at his mercy, and silent before him, on a Sunday. He behaved like a
gentleman in this matter, where so much temptation lurks, looking always
at the man whom he did not mean to hit, so that the guilty one received
it through him, and felt himself better by comparison. In a word, this
parson did his duty well, and pleasantly for all his flock; and nothing
imbittered him, unless a man pretended to doctrine without holy orders.

For the doctor reasoned thus--and sound it sounds--if divinity is a
matter for Tom, Dick, or Harry, how can there be degrees in it? He held
a degree in it, and felt what it had cost; and not the parish only, but
even his own wife, was proud to have a doctor every Sunday. And his wife
took care that his rich red hood, kerseymere small-clothes, and black
silk stockings upon calves of dignity, were such that his congregation
scorned the surgeons all the way to Beverley.

Happy in a pleasant nature, kindly heart, and tranquil home, he was also
happy in those awards of life in which men are helpless. He was blessed
with a good wife and three good children, doing well, and vigorous and
hardy as the air and clime and cliffs. His wife was not quite of his
own age, but old enough to understand and follow him faithfully down the
slope of years. A wife with mind enough to know that a husband is not
faultless, and with heart enough to feel that if he were, she would not
love him so. And under her were comprised their children--two boys at
school, and a baby-girl at home.

So far, the rector of this parish was truly blessed and blessing. But
in every man's lot must be some crook, since this crooked world turned
round. In Parson Upround's lot the crook might seem a very small one;
but he found it almost too big for him. His dignity and peace of mind,