It happened, I was going to say unluckily, but, I should rather say, most luckily, for _Trim_, for he was the only Gainer by it;—that a Quarrel, about some six or eight Weeks after this, broke out between _the late_ Parson of the Parish and _John_ the Clerk. Somebody (and it was thought to be Nobody but _Trim_) had put it into the Parson’s Head, “That _John_’s Desk in the Church was, at the least, four Inches higher than it should be:—That the Thing gave Offence, and was indecorous, inasmuch as it approach’d too near upon a Level with the Parson’s Desk itself.” This Hardship the Parson complained of loudly,—and told _John_ one Day after Prayers, “He could bear it no longer:—And would have it alter’d and brought down as it should be.” _John_ made no other Reply, but, “That the Desk was not of his raising:—That ’twas not one Hair Breadth higher than he found it;—and that as he found it, so would he leave it:—In short, he would neither make an Encroachment, nor would he suffer one.” The _late_ Parson might have his Virtues, but the leading Part of his Character was not _Humility;_ so that _John_’s Stiffness in this Point was not likely to reconcile Matters.—This was _Trim_’s Harvest. After a friendly Hint to _John_ to stand his Ground,—away hies _Trim_ to make his Market at the Vicarage: What pass’d there, I will not say, intending not to be uncharitable; so shall content myself with only guessing at it, from the sudden Change that appeared in _Trim_’s Dress for the better;—for he had left his old ragged Coat, Hat and Wig, in the Stable, and was come forth strutting across the Church-yard, y’clad in a good creditable cast Coat, large Hat and Wig, which the Parson had just given him.—Ho! Ho! Hollo! _John!_ cries _Trim_, in an insolent Bravo, as loud as ever he could bawl—See here, my Lad! how fine I am.—The more Shame for you, answered _John_, seriously.—Do you think, _Trim_, says he, such Finery, gain’d by such Services, becomes you, or can wear well?—Fye upon it, _Trim;_—I could not have expected this from you, considering what Friendship you pretended, and how kind I have ever been to you:—How many Shillings and Sixpences I have generously lent you in your Distresses?—Nay, it was but t’other Day that I promised you these black Plush Breeches I have on.—Rot your Breeches, quoth _Trim;_ for _Trim_’s Brain was half turn’d with his new Finery:—Rot your Breeches, says he, —I would not take them up, were they laid at my Door;—give ’em, and be d——d to you, to whom you like; I would have you to know I can have a better Pair at the Parson’s any Day in the Week:—_John_ told him plainly, as his Word had once pass’d him, he had a Spirit above taking Advantage of his Insolence, in giving them away to another:—But, to tell him his Mind freely, he thought he had got so many Favours of that Kind, and was so likely to get many more for the same Services, of the Parson, that he had better give up the