work like a wrestler for the ring, and brings himself to trim by
fasting and penance, is he not?"

"No, that is the marvel of it," said Simon: "Father Clement eats,
drinks, and lives much like other folks--all the rules of the
church, nevertheless, strictly observed."

"Oh, I comprehend!--a buxom priest that thinks more of good living
than of good life, tipples a can on Fastern's Eve, to enable him
to face Lent, has a pleasant in principio, and confesses all the
prettiest women about the town?"

"You are on the bow hand still, smith. I tell you, my daughter
and I could nose out either a fasting hypocrite or a full one. But
Father Clement is neither the one nor the other."

"But what is he then, in Heaven's name?"

"One who is either greatly better than half his brethren of St.
Johnston put together, or so much worse than the worst of them, that
it is sin and shame that he is suffered to abide in the country."

"Methinks it were easy to tell whether he be the one or the other,"
said the smith.

"Content you, my friend," said Simon, "with knowing that, if you
judge Father Clement by what you see him do and hear him say, you
will think of him as the best and kindest man in the world, with a
comfort for every man's grief, a counsel for every man's difficulty,
the rich man's surest guide, and the poor man's best friend. But if