my surplice fees will be diminished, and the sexton will starve.”—“You are the drollest of mortals!” cried the exulting Miss Flint, “but a truce with your wit. You well know my motives for removing Mary from Wilson’s. I had solid reasons for thinking the society she had in that house improper for her. I wish to caution Miss Cowley, without offending her. Are you not convinced that, if Sir Murdock had been a rational man, he would have judged, as Lady Maclairn and myself have done, that Mrs. Heartley and her daughter had no claims to Miss Cowley’s notice?” “Upon my word you perplex me,” replied the sapient divine, passing his clay-coloured hand over his violet face, “I know so little of these ladies! nothing indeed, but from report. My wife from the first had your scruples. I know not any _genteel_ family that visits them. They say the mother is a very _lively_ woman, and no one can dispute the charms of Miss Alice! Our young man, Banks, was one of her admirers; but his mother did not approve of the intimacy between him and Harry Heartley. This gave offence, and the ladies overlook their pastor. I should imagine Miss Cowley would act with prudence, to be on the reserve with ladies who do not visit at the hall.”—The straggling party approached us, and our conversation finished.—To my great relief, I found that Miss Flint only waited their return, to bid adieu to the captain; pleading her engagement, and the moon, for passing the evening with “poor Mrs. Snughead.”—The carriage which was in waiting immediately appeared, and, with much formality, the Reverend Mr. Snughead took his leave.