"Stay!" cried he as I turned away, and, with the word, set his hand upon the gate, and, vaulting nimbly over, came towards me, with a broad-brimmed straw hat in one hand and a long-stemmed wooden pipe in the other. "Sir," said he, "my cottage is close by; you look worn and jaded. Will you not step in and rest awhile?" "Thank you, sir; but I must be upon my way." "And whither lies your way?" "To Sissinghurst, sir." "You have a long walk before you, and, with your permission, I will accompany you a little way." "With pleasure, sir!" I answered, "though I fear you will find me a moody companion, and a somewhat silent one; but then, I shall be the better listener, so light your pipe, sir, and, while you smoke, talk." "My pipe!" said he, glancing down at it; "ah! yes—I was about to compose my Sunday evening's sermon." "You are a clergyman, sir?" "No, no—a preacher—or say rather—a teacher, and a very humble one, who, striving himself after Truth, seeks to lend such aid to others as he may." "Truth!" said I; "what is Truth?" "Truth, sir, is that which can never pass away; the Truth of Life is Good Works, which abide everlastingly." "Sir," said I, "you smoke a pipe, I perceive, and should, therefore, be a good preacher; for smoking begets thought—" "And yet, sir, is not to act greater than to think?" "Why, Thought far outstrips puny Action!" said I—"it reaches deeper, soars higher; in our actions we are pigmies, but in our thoughts we may be gods, and embrace a universe." "But," sighed the Preacher, "while we think, our fellows perish in ignorance and want!" "Hum!" said I. "Thought," pursued the Preacher, "may become a vice, as it did with the old-time monks and hermits, who, shutting themselves away from their kind, wasted their lives upon their knees, thinking noble thoughts and dreaming of holy things, but—leaving the world very carefully to the devil. And, as to smoking, I am seriously considering giving it up." Here he took the pipe from his lips and thrust it behind his back. "Why?" "It has become, unfortunately, too human! It is a strange thing, sir," he went on, smiling and shaking his head, "that this, my one indulgence, should breed me more discredit than all the cardinal sins, and become a stumbling-block to others. Only last Sunday I happened to overhear two white-headed old fellows talking. 'A fine sermon, Giles?' said the one. 'Ah! good enough,' replied the other, 'but it might ha' been better—ye see—'e smokes!' So I am seriously thinking of giving it up, for it would appear that if a preacher prove himself as human as his flock, they immediately lose faith in him, and become deaf to his teaching."