"Not a bit of it," was the indignant reply. "The rent was nothing to him. He is the youngest brother of the Duke of W----, and is very wealthy, with a large following. There is only one house to let in the parish that could accommodate him at all; and so he had to leave; yes, he had to leave, for one day he says to me, 'Did you ever hear of a minister getting the sack?' And he told me how badly his landlady had treated him and that he had to go. It was a sad day for Wymondham, sir. He had spent ten times his salary on the church and there were many other things he was about to do." "How much is the salary?" we asked. "Six hundred pounds. It is a large parish, covering thirty-five square miles." We gave the old man his expected fee and thought it strange to learn of a minister who had restored a great church from his private fortune and then had to give up his charge because there was only one available house to accommodate him and he couldn't have that. Surely the captious landlady must be execrated by the good members of the Priory Church of Wymondham. [Illustration: A STREET CORNER, EARLS COLNE, ESSEX.] It may seem a far cry from Wymondham, with its ecclesiastical traditions, to Thetford, the birthplace of that arch-heretic, Thomas Paine; yet it is only a few miles over the finest of roads. The village still preserves its old-world atmosphere and the house where Paine was born still stands, and is frequented, we learned, by many pilgrims. The old Bell Inn, the oddest of hostelries, looked cozy and restful, though we did not seek its hospitality. We hastened onward, leaving the Newmarket highway for Mildenhall, a quiet, unprogressive little village with an interesting manor house. This we did not see after all, for it chanced that it was closed during preparations for an open-air Shakespearean play in the park that afternoon. We paused in the market square and were accosted by a friendly disposed native who thought us at a loss for the road. We thanked him and asked him what there might be of interest in Mildenhall. He scratched his head reflectively and finally said: "Nothin, sir! Hi 'ave lived in Mildenhall for forty years and never saw anything of hinterest."