Petersfield had always been a great stronghold of the Church, having
hardly a Nonconformist within its bounds. The reason of this was that
most of the house property was owned by zealous Churchmen, who refused
to allow any one who differed from the Established Church to settle
there. The Vicar, whose name was Pinfold, possessed in this manner
great power in the town, and as he was a man with a high inflamed
countenance and a pompous manner, he inspired no little awe among the
quiet inhabitants. I can see him now with his beaked nose, his rounded
waistcoat, and his bandy legs, which looked as if they had given way
beneath the load of learning which they were compelled to carry.
Walking slowly with right hand stiffly extended, tapping the pavement at
every step with his metal-headed stick, he would pause as each person
passed him, and wait to see that he was given the salute which he
thought due to his dignity. This courtesy he never dreamed of
returning, save in the case of some of his richer parishioners; but if
by chance it were omitted, he would hurry after the culprit, and,
shaking his stick in his face, insist upon his doffing his cap to him.
We youngsters, if we met him on our walks, would scuttle by him like a
brood of chickens passing an old turkey cock, and even our worthy master
showed a disposition to turn down a side-street when the portly figure
of the Vicar was seen rolling in our direction. This proud priest made
a point of knowing the history of every one within his parish, and
having learnt that I was the son of an Independent, he spoke severely to
Mr. Chillingfoot upon the indiscretion which he had shown in admitting
me to his school. Indeed, nothing but my mother's good name for
orthodoxy prevented him from insisting upon my dismissal.

At the other end of the village there was a large day-school.
A constant feud prevailed between the scholars who attended it and the
lads who studied under our master. No one could tell how the war broke