'WELL, Miss Grey, what do you think of the new curate?' asked MissMurray, on our return from church the Sunday after therecommencement of our duties.

'I can scarcely tell,' was my reply: 'I have not even heard himpreach.'

'Well, but you saw him, didn't you?'

'Yes, but I cannot pretend to judge of a man's character by asingle cursory glance at his face.'

'But isn't he ugly?'

'He did not strike me as being particularly so; I don't dislikethat cast of countenance: but the only thing I particularlynoticed about him was his style of reading; which appeared to megood - infinitely better, at least, than Mr. Hatfield's. He readthe Lessons as if he were bent on giving full effect to everypassage; it seemed as if the most careless person could not havehelped attending, nor the most ignorant have failed to understand;and the prayers he read as if he were not reading at all, butpraying earnestly and sincerely from his own heart.'

'Oh, yes, that's all he is good for: he can plod through theservice well enough; but he has not a single idea beyond it.'

'How do you know?'

'Oh! I know perfectly well; I am an excellent judge in suchmatters. Did you see how he went out of church? stumping along -as if there were nobody there but himself - never looking to theright hand or the left, and evidently thinking of nothing but justgetting out of the church, and, perhaps, home to his dinner: hisgreat stupid head could contain no other idea.'

'I suppose you would have had him cast a glance into the squire'spew,' said I, laughing at the vehemence of her hostility.

'Indeed! I should have been highly indignant if he had dared to dosuch a thing!' replied she, haughtily tossing her head; then, aftera moment's reflection, she added - 'Well, well! I suppose he'sgood enough for his place: but I'm glad I'm not dependent on HIMfor amusement - that's all. Did you see how Mr. Hatfield hurriedout to get a bow from me, and be in time to put us into thecarriage?'

'Yes,' answered I; internally adding, 'and I thought it somewhatderogatory to his dignity as a clergyman to come flying from thepulpit in such eager haste to shake hands with the squire, and handhis wife and daughters into their carriage: and, moreover, I owehim a grudge for nearly shutting me out of it'; for, in fact,though I was standing before his face, close beside the carriagesteps, waiting to get in, he would persist in putting them up andclosing the door, till one of the family stopped him by calling outthat the governess was not in yet; then, without a word of apology,he departed, wishing them good-morning, and leaving the footman tofinish the business.

NOTA BENE. - Mr. Hatfield never spoke to me, neither did Sir Hughor Lady Meltham, nor Mr. Harry or Miss Meltham, nor Mr. Green orhis sisters, nor any other lady or gentleman who frequented thatchurch: nor, in fact, any one that visited at Horton Lodge.

Miss Murray ordered the carriage again, in the afternoon, forherself and her sister: she said it was too cold for them to enjoythemselves in the garden; and besides, she believed Harry Melthamwould be at church. 'For,' said she, smiling slyly at her own fairimage in the glass, 'he has been a most exemplary attendant atchurch these last few Sundays: you would think he was quite a goodChristian. And you may go with us, Miss Grey: I want you to seehim; he is so greatly improved since he returned from abroad - youcan't think! And besides, then you will have an opportunity ofseeing the beautiful Mr. Weston again, and of hearing him preach.'

I did hear him preach, and was decidedly pleased with theevangelical truth of his doctrine, as well as the earnestsimplicity of his manner, and the clearness and force of his style.It was truly refreshing to hear such a sermon, after being so longaccustomed to the dry, prosy discourses of the former curate, andthe still less edifying harangues of the rector. Mr. Hatfieldwould come sailing up the aisle, or rather sweeping along like awhirlwind, with his rich silk gown flying behind him and rustlingagainst the pew doors, mount the pulpit like a conqueror ascendinghis triumphal car; then, sinking on the velvet cushion in anattitude of studied grace, remain in silent prostration for acertain time; then mutter over a Collect, and gabble through theLord's Prayer, rise, draw off one bright lavender glove, to givethe congregation the benefit of his sparkling rings, lightly passhis fingers through his well-curled hair, flourish a cambrichandkerchief, recite a very short passage, or, perhaps, a merephrase of Scripture, as a head-piece to his discourse, and,finally, deliver a composition which, as a composition, might beconsidered good, though far too studied and too artificial to bepleasing to me: the propositions were well laid down, thearguments logically conducted; and yet, it was sometimes hard tolisten quietly throughout, without some slight demonstrations ofdisapproval or impatience.

His favourite subjects were church discipline, rites andceremonies, apostolical succession, the duty of reverence andobedience to the clergy, the atrocious criminality of dissent, theabsolute necessity of observing all the forms of godliness, thereprehensible presumption of individuals who attempted to think forthemselves in matters connected with religion, or to be guided bytheir own interpretations of Scripture, and, occasionally (toplease his wealthy parishioners) the necessity of deferentialobedience from the poor to the rich - supporting his maxims andexhortations throughout with quotations from the Fathers: withwhom he appeared to be far better acquainted than with the Apostlesand Evangelists, and whose importance he seemed to consider atleast equal to theirs. But now and then he gave us a sermon of adifferent order - what some would call a very good one; but sunlessand severe: representing the Deity as a terrible taskmaster ratherthan a benevolent father. Yet, as I listened, I felt inclined tothink the man was sincere in all he said: he must have changed hisviews, and become decidedly religious, gloomy and austere, yetstill devout. But such illusions were usually dissipated, oncoming out of church, by hearing his voice in jocund colloquy withsome of the Melthams or Greens, or, perhaps, the Murraysthemselves; probably laughing at his own sermon, and hoping that hehad given the rascally people something to think about; perchance,exulting in the thought that old Betty Holmes would now lay asidethe sinful indulgence of her pipe, which had been her daily solacefor upwards of thirty years: that George Higgins would befrightened out of his Sabbath evening walks, and Thomas Jacksonwould be sorely troubled in his conscience, and shaken in his sureand certain hope of a joyful resurrection at the last day.

Thus, I could not but conclude that Mr. Hatfield was one of thosewho 'bind heavy burdens, and grievous to be borne, and lay themupon men's shoulders, while they themselves will not move them withone of their fingers'; and who 'make the word of God of none effectby their traditions, teaching for doctrines the commandments ofmen.' I was well pleased to observe that the new curate resembledhim, as far as I could see, in none of these particulars.

'Well, Miss Grey, what do you think of him now?' said Miss Murray,as we took our places in the carriage after service.

'No harm still,' replied I.

'No harm!' repeated she in amazement. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean, I think no worse of him than I did before.'

'No worse! I should think not indeed - quite the contrary! Is henot greatly improved?'

'Oh, yes; very much indeed,' replied I; for I had now discoveredthat it was Harry Meltham she meant, not Mr. Weston. Thatgentleman had eagerly come forward to speak to the young ladies: athing he would hardly have ventured to do had their mother beenpresent; he had likewise politely handed them into the carriage.He had not attempted to shut me out, like Mr. Hatfield; neither, ofcourse, had he offered me his assistance (I should not haveaccepted it, if he had), but as long as the door remained open hehad stood smirking and chatting with them, and then lifted his hatand departed to his own abode: but I had scarcely noticed him allthe time. My companions, however, had been more observant; and, aswe rolled along, they discussed between them not only his looks,words, and actions, but every feature of his face, and everyarticle of his apparel.

'You shan't have him all to yourself, Rosalie,' said Miss Matildaat the close of this discussion; 'I like him: I know he'd make anice, jolly companion for me.'

'Well, you're quite welcome to him, Matilda,' replied her sister,in a tone of affected indifference.

'And I'm sure,' continued the other, 'he admires me quite as muchas he does you; doesn't he, Miss Grey?'

'I don't know; I'm not acquainted with his sentiments.'

'Well, but he DOES though.'

'My DEAR Matilda! nobody will ever admire you till you get rid ofyour rough, awkward manners.'

'Oh, stuff! Harry Meltham likes such manners; and so do papa'sfriends.'

'Well, you MAY captivate old men, and younger sons; but nobodyelse, I am sure, will ever take a fancy to you.'

'I don't care: I'm not always grabbing after money, like you andmamma. If my husband is able to keep a few good horses and dogs, Ishall be quite satisfied; and all the rest may go to the devil!'

'Well, if you use such shocking expressions, I'm sure no realgentleman will ever venture to come near you. Really, Miss Grey,you should not let her do so.'

'I can't possibly prevent it, Miss Murray.'

'And you're quite mistaken, Matilda, in supposing that HarryMeltham admires you: I assure you he does nothing of the kind.'

Matilda was beginning an angry reply; but, happily, our journey wasnow at an end; and the contention was cut short by the footmanopening the carriage-door, and letting down the steps for ourdescent.