IhaveheardwhatIbelievewasitsremotemusicalprogenitorinthechurchofSS。GiovanniePaoloatVenicenotfiveyearssince；andagainIhavehearditfarawayinmid-Atlanticuponagreysea-
　　SabbathinJune，whenneitherwindsnorwavesarestirring，sothattheemigrantsgatherondeck，andtheirplaintivepsalmgoesforthuponthesilverhazeofthesky，andonthewildernessofaseathathassighedtillitcansighnolonger。OritmaybeheardatsomeMethodistCampMeetinguponaWelshhillside，butinthechurchesitisgoneforever。IfIwereamusicianIwouldtakeitasthesubjectfortheadagioinaWesleyansymphony。
　　Gonenowaretheclarinet，thevioloncelloandthetrombone，wildminstrelsyasofthedolefulcreaturesinEzekiel，discordant，butinfinitelypathetic。Goneisthatscarebabestentor，thatbellowingbullofBashanthevillageblacksmith，goneisthemelodiouscarpenter，gonethebrawnyshepherdwiththeredhair，whoroaredmorelustilythanall，untiltheycametothewords，“Shepherdswithyourflocksabiding。”whenmodestycoveredhimwithconfusion，andcompelledhimtobesilent，asthoughhisownhealthwerebeingdrunk。Theyweredoomedandhadapresentimentofevil，evenwhenfirstIsawthem，buttheyhadstillalittleleaseofchoirliferemaining，andtheyroaredout[wick-edhandshavepiercedandnailedhim，piercedandnailedhimtoatree。]
　　butnodescriptioncangiveaproperideaoftheeffect。WhenIwaslastinBattersbychurchtherewasaharmoniumplayedbyasweet-
　　lookinggirlwithachoirofschoolchildrenaroundher，andtheychantedthecanticlestothemostcorrectofchants，andtheysangHymnsAncientandModern；thehighpewsweregone，nay，theverygalleryinwhichtheoldchoirhadsungwasremovedasanaccursedthingwhichmightremindthepeopleofthehighplaces，andTheobaldwasold，andChristinawaslyingundertheyewtreesinthechurchyard。
　　ButintheeveninglateronIsawthreeveryoldmencomechucklingoutofadissentingchapel，andsurelyenoughtheyweremyoldfriendstheblacksmith，thecarpenterandtheshepherd。Therewasalookofcontentupontheirfaceswhichmademefeelcertaintheyhadbeensinging；notdoubtlesswiththeoldgloryofthevioloncello，theclarinetandthetrombone，butstillsongsofSionandnonewfangledpapistry。
　　Thehymnhadengagedmyattention；whenitwasoverIhadtimetotakestockofthecongregation。Theywerechieflyfarmers——fat，verywell-to-dofolk，whohadcomesomeofthemwiththeirwivesandchildrenfromoutlyingfarmstwoandthreemilesaway；hatersofpoperyandofanythingwhichanyonemightchoosetosaywaspopish；
　　good，sensiblefellowswhodetestedtheoryofanykind，whoseidealwasthemaintenanceofthestatusquowithperhapsalovingreminiscenceofoldwartimes，andasenseofwrongthattheweatherwasnotmorecompletelyundertheircontrol，whodesiredhigherpricesandcheaperwages，butotherwiseweremostcontentedwhenthingswerechangingleast；tolerators，ifnotlovers，ofallthatwasfamiliar，hatersofallthatwasunfamiliar；theywouldhavebeenequallyhorrifiedathearingtheChristianreligiondoubted，andatseeingitpractised。
　　“WhatcantherebeincommonbetweenTheobaldandhisparishioners？”
　　saidChristinatome，inthecourseoftheevening，whenherhusbandwasforafewmomentsabsent。“Ofcourseonemustnotcomplain，butIassureyouitgrievesmetoseeamanofTheobald’sabilitythrownawayuponsuchaplaceasthis。IfwehadonlybeenatGaysbury，wheretherearetheA’s，theB’s，theC’s，andLordD’splace，asyouknow，quiteclose，Ishouldnotthenhavefeltthatwewerelivinginsuchadesert；butIsupposeitisforthebest。”sheaddedmorecheerfully；“andthenofcoursetheBishopwillcometouswheneverheisintheneighbourhood，andifwewereatGaysburyhemighthavegonetoLordD’s。”
　　PerhapsIhavenowsaidenoughtoindicatethekindofplaceinwhichTheobald’slineswerecast，andthesortofwomanhehadmarried。Asforhisownhabits，Iseehimtrudgingthroughmuddylanesandoverlongsweepsofplover-hauntedpasturestovisitadyingcottager’swife。Hetakeshermeatandwinefromhisowntable，andthatnotalittleonlybutliberally。Accordingtohislightsalso，headministerswhatheispleasedtocallspiritualconsolation。
　　“IamafraidI’mgoingtoHell，Sir。”saysthesickwomanwithawhine。“Oh，Sir，saveme，saveme，don’tletmegothere。I
　　couldn’tstandit，Sir，Ishoulddiewithfear，theverythoughtofitdrivesmeintoacoldsweatallover。”
　　“MrsThompson。”saysTheobaldgravely，“youmusthavefaithinthepreciousbloodofyourRedeemer；itisHealonewhocansaveyou。”
　　“Butareyousure，Sir。”saysshe，lookingwistfullyathim，“thatHewillforgiveme——forI’venotbeenaverygoodwoman，indeedI
　　haven’t——andifGodwouldonlysay’Yes’outrightwithHismouthwhenIaskwhethermysinsareforgivenme——“
　　“ButtheyAREforgivenyou，MrsThompson。”saysTheobaldwithsomesternness，forthesamegroundhasbeengoneoveragoodmanytimesalready，andhehasbornetheunhappywoman’smisgivingsnowforafullquarterofanhour。Thenheputsastoptotheconversationbyrepeatingprayerstakenfromthe“VisitationoftheSick。”andoverawesthepoorwretchfromexpressingfurtheranxietyastohercondition。
　　“Can’tyoutellme，Sir。”sheexclaimspiteously，assheseesthatheispreparingtogoaway，“can’tyoutellmethatthereisnoDayofJudgement，andthatthereisnosuchplaceasHell？IcandowithouttheHeaven，Sir，butIcannotdowiththeHell。”Theobaldismuchshocked。
　　“MrsThompson。”herejoinsimpressively，“letmeimploreyoutosuffernodoubtconcerningthesetwocornerstonesofourreligiontocrossyourmindatamomentlikethepresent。IfthereisonethingmorecertainthananotheritisthatweshallallappearbeforetheJudgementSeatofChrist，andthatthewickedwillbeconsumedinalakeofeverlastingfire。Doubtthis，MrsThompson，andyouarelost。”
　　Thepoorwomanburiesherfeveredheadinthecoverletinaparoxysmoffearwhichatlastfindsreliefintears。
　　“MrsThompson。”saysTheobald，withhishandonthedoor，“composeyourself，becalm；youmustpleasetotakemywordforitthatattheDayofJudgementyoursinswillbeallwashedwhiteinthebloodoftheLamb，MrsThompson。Yea。”heexclaimsfrantically，“thoughtheybeasscarlet，yetshalltheybeaswhiteaswool。”andhemakesoffasfastashecanfromthefetidatmosphereofthecottagetothepureairoutside。Oh，howthankfulheiswhentheinterviewisover！
　　Hereturnshome，consciousthathehasdonehisduty，andadministeredthecomfortsofreligiontoadyingsinner。HisadmiringwifeawaitshimattheRectory，andassureshimthatneveryetwasclergymansodevotedtothewelfareofhisflock。Hebelievesher；hehasanaturaltendencytobelieveeverythingthatistoldhim，andwhoshouldknowthefactsofthecasebetterthanhiswife？Poorfellow！Hehasdonehisbest，butwhatdoesafish’sbestcometowhenthefishisoutofwater？Hehasleftmeatandwine——thathecando；hewillcallagainandwillleavemoremeatandwine；dayafterdayhetrudgesoverthesameplover-hauntedfields，andlistensattheendofhiswalktothesameagonyofforebodings，whichdayafterdayhesilences，butdoesnotremove，tillatlastamercifulweaknessrendersthesufferercarelessofherfuture，andTheobaldissatisfiedthathermindisnowpeacefullyatrestinJesus。
　　Hedoesnotlikethisbranchofhisprofession——indeedhehatesit——
　　butwillnotadmitittohimself。Thehabitofnotadmittingthingstohimselfhasbecomeaconfirmedonewithhim。Neverthelesstherehauntshimanilldefinedsensethatlifewouldbepleasanteriftherewerenosicksinners，oriftheywouldatanyratefaceaneternityoftorturewithmoreindifference。Hedoesnotfeelthatheisinhiselement。Thefarmerslookasiftheywereintheirelement。Theyarefull-bodied，healthyandcontented；butbetweenhimandthemthereisagreatgulffixed。Ahardanddrawnlookbeginstosettleaboutthecornersofhismouth，sothatevenifhewerenotinablackcoatandwhitetieachildmightknowhimforaparson。
　　Heknowsthatheisdoinghisduty。Everydayconvinceshimofthismorefirmly；butthenthereisnotmuchdutyforhimtodo。Heissadlyinwantofoccupation。Hehasnotasteforanyofthosefieldsportswhichwerenotconsideredunbecomingforaclergymanfortyyearsago。Hedoesnotride，norshoot，norfish，norcourse，norplaycricket。Study，todohimjustice，hehadneverreallyliked，andwhatinducementwasthereforhimtostudyatBattersby？Hereadsneitheroldbooksnornewones。Hedoesnotinteresthimselfinartorscienceorpolitics，buthesetshisbackupwithsomepromptnessifanyofthemshowanydevelopmentunfamiliartohimself。True，hewriteshisownsermons，butevenhiswifeconsidersthathisforteliesratherintheexampleofhislifewhichisonelongactofself-devotionthaninhisutterancesfromthepulpit。Afterbreakfastheretirestohisstudy；hecutslittlebitsoutoftheBibleandgumsthemwithexquisiteneatnessbythesideofotherlittlebits；thishecallsmakingaHarmonyoftheOldandNewTestaments。Alongsidetheextractshecopiesintheveryperfectionofhand-writingextractsfromMedetheonlyman，accordingtoTheobald，whoreallyunderstoodtheBookofRevelation，Patrick，andotherolddivines。Heworkssteadilyatthisforhalfanhoureverymorningduringmanyyears，andtheresultisdoubtlessvaluable。Aftersomeyearshavegonebyhehearshischildrentheirlessons，andthedailyoft-repeatedscreamsthatissuefromthestudyduringthelessonhourstelltheirownhorriblestoryoverthehouse。Hehasalsotakentocollectingahortussiccus，andthroughtheinterestofhisfatherwasoncementionedintheSaturdayMagazineashavingbeenthefirsttofindaplant，whosenameIhaveforgotten，intheneighbourhoodofBattersby。ThisnumberoftheSaturdayMagazinehasbeenboundinredmorocco，andiskeptuponthedrawing-roomtable。Hepottersabouthisgarden；ifhehearsahencacklingherunsandtellsChristina，andstraightwaygoeshuntingfortheegg。
　　WhenthetwoMissAllabyscame，astheysometimesdid，tostaywithChristina，theysaidthelifeledbytheirsisterandbrother-in-lawwasanidyll。HappyindeedwasChristinainherchoice，forthatshehadhadachoicewasafictionwhichsoontookrootamongthem