"Please your Reverence, 'tain't that; but as they won't take the girls into the dockyard at Devonport, 'tain't no good baptizing 'em." The boys were christened only for the sake of the register requisite to present on admission into the Government dockyard. But if the boys were given baptism only, the girls devoted their efforts to show that they fell behind in masculine gifts in no sort, and the women of the village have approved themselves remarkable Amazons; they pull a boat, carry loads, speak gruff, wear moustache, very much as does a man. Now, the unfortunate thing is, that the English clergy of the new epoch do seem to have been only ordained because they are feeble and effeminate youths. After ordination the curates are thrust into the society of pious and feeble women, and contract feeble and womanish ways. Just as in the Cornish parish only boys were baptized, so does it really seem as though only girlish youngsters pass under the bishop's hands, so that ordination becomes a pledge of effeminacy. Therefore, in my opinion, it would be a wholesome corrective if they could go after the hounds occasionally. It is one thing to make of hunting a pursuit, and another to take it as a relaxation. The apostles were sportsmen, that is to say, they fished; and if it is lawful to go after fish, I take it there can be no harm in going after a hare or a fox; but then--only occasionally, and as a moral and constitutional bracer. As said of the ordinary country parson, the good is forgotten and the evil is remembered, so is it with the hunting parson. The simple worthy rector who attended his sick, was good to the poor, preached a wholesome sermon, and was seen occasionally at the meet, is not remembered,--Jack Russell is the exception,--but the memory of the bad hunting parson never dies. There is a characteristic song about the typical indifferent hunting parson that was much sung some fifty years ago. It ran thus[7]-- [Music: PARSON HOGG. _Arranged by the_ Rev. H. Fleetwood Sheppard, M.A.] [Music] Mess Parson Hogg shall now maintain The burden of my song, sir! A single life perforce he led, Of constitution strong, sir. Sing tally ho! sing tally ho! sing tally ho! why zounds, sir! He mounts his mare to hunt the hare, Sing Tally ho! the hounds, sir. And every day he goes to mass He first pulls on his boot, sir! That, should the beagles chance to pass, He may join in the pursuit, sir! Sing, Tally ho! &c. That Parson little loveth prayer, And pater night and morn, sir! For bell and book hath little care, But dearly loves the horn, sir! Sing, Tally ho! &c. St. Stephen's day that holy man He went a pair to wed, sir! When as the service was begun, Puss by the churchyard sped, sir! Sing, Tally ho! &c.