Mrs. Goodman, in her quality of member and agent of the Royal Society for the Protection of Animals, never failed to make her husband alight at the foot of the hill. "You are not going to make poor Bob drag you up?" said she: "get down and walk: you get stouter every day; a walk will do you good." The poor Vicar, heavy and asthmatical, alighted, and puffing, coughing, and breathless, he followed as best he could to the top of the hill, regretting as he went that husbands were not included among the animals protected by the Society. Arrived at the station, he took a ticket, placed his wife comfortably in the corner of a carriage, and was about to quit the station, when that lady called out to him: "Barty, be sure you don't forget to walk when you come to the hill." "Certainly, my dear," said the good parson, whom the sight of his wife, starting in a direction opposed to that of the vicarage, rendered facetious; "if you like, I'll put Bob in the carriage, and push behind ... and the Society for the Protection of Animals will award you a gold medal at least." The engine whistled. The Vicar waved his hand to his wife, and returned to his carriage, promising himself to do the return journey at a good pace. At the foot of the hill, Bob turned his head, according to his wont, to see if his load were going to obey the injunctions of his benefactrice; he even went so far as to bring up, in order to allow the Vicar to get down more comfortably; but that gentleman pretended not to understand the proceedings of the intelligent animal; he even administered to Bob two or three sharp strokes of the whip, which made him grow reflective. Mrs. Goodman's _protégé_ thought it prudent to step out a little more smartly, and in less than half an hour he had got over his four miles. The Vicar had his horse put in the stable, the carriage in the coach-house, ordered tea to be taken to him in his library, and to his great satisfaction, was able to terminate the sermon that had been ruminating in his mind so long. III. In the parish of All Angels, the children of the poor went every Sunday to a Bible-class held in the church schoolroom. The first class was under the direction of the Vicar's wife. Proceedings commenced at three with prayer; then a hymn was sung, and the classes began. In these Sunday classes, passages of the Bible are read and explained to the children by the teacher. On the Sunday in question, Mrs. Goodman had chosen as the subject of her lesson the twenty-eighth chapter of Isaiah. As soon as the hymn was over she began to read: "_Woe to the crown of pride, to the drunkards of Ephraim, whose glorious beauty is a fading flower...._ "_Behold, the Lord hath a mighty and strong one, which as a tempest of hail and a destroying storm, as a flood of mighty waters overflowing, shall cast down to the earth with the hand._ "_The crown of pride, the drunkards of Ephraim, shall be trodden under feet._"