always be possible to diminish what little there was. Thus matters were smoothed down, and Bertie went to the University; and in due time, on his uncle’s death, became the Rector of Oakley, like all his grand-uncles before him. He was so far conscientious that he did not keep a curate, the parish being one which contained about two hundred of a population only--that is, he did not keep a permanent curate, though he indulged freely in occasional aid. But it may be supposed that in these circumstances Bertie Curtis was not, perhaps, so adapted for his work, or so devoted to it as most of the other clergymen of whom we are so proud in England. He liked his ease, which they are not supposed to do, and that liberty of going where he liked, and doing what he liked, which only the richer members of his profession can indulge in. He went to all the races all over the country, and betted a good deal in a quiet way; but, to be sure, the village people did not know where he was when he was absent from home, and he might just as well have been at a meeting of the Church Union as at the Doncaster meeting. And Sir John and the other magnates did not care. Some of them said Bertie Curtis was thrown away where he was, such a good fellow! He “got on” just as well as if he had been the most devoted parish priest under the sun. In externals he was good-looking enough, with the good features and high nose which belonged to the family; of good height, rather over than under middle size, but not tall; well-made, well-dressed, active, and not stupid--on the whole, an attractive, agreeable Squire-parson, quite benevolent enough, and not disposed to be uncivil or disagreeable to any man. Poachers he hated by nature, dissenters he disliked professionally, though he was too much of a gentleman even to notice them; but otherwise he was friendly enough to everybody who did not interfere with him.