Frewen and Jenkin may almost seem to have been interchangeable at
will; and yet Fate proceeds with such particularity that it was
perhaps on the point of name that the family was ruined.

The John Jenkins had a family of one daughter and five extravagant
and unpractical sons. The eldest, Stephen, entered the Church and
held the living of Salehurst, where he offered, we may hope, an
extreme example of the clergy of the age. He was a handsome figure
of a man; jovial and jocular; fond of his garden, which produced
under his care the finest fruits of the neighbourhood; and like all
the family, very choice in horses. He drove tandem; like Jehu,
furiously. His saddle horse, Captain (for the names of horses are
piously preserved in the family chronicle which I follow), was
trained to break into a gallop as soon as the vicar's foot was
thrown across its back; nor would the rein be drawn in the nine
miles between Northiam and the Vicarage door. Debt was the man's
proper element; he used to skulk from arrest in the chancel of his
church; and the speed of Captain may have come sometimes handy. At
an early age this unconventional parson married his cook, and by
her he had two daughters and one son. One of the daughters died
unmarried; the other imitated her father, and married
'imprudently.' The son, still more gallantly continuing the
tradition, entered the army, loaded himself with debt, was forced
to sell out, took refuge in the Marines, and was lost on the Dogger
Bank in the war-ship MINOTAUR. If he did not marry below him, like
his father, his sister, and a certain great-uncle William, it was
perhaps because he never married at all.

The second brother, Thomas, who was employed in the General Post-
Office, followed in all material points the example of Stephen,