Trollope could have handled him with admirable skill, though I am afraid my rustic clergyman would have shocked Mrs. Proudie. He is the vicar of this place, and is a ponderous red-faced divine, after the style of Dr. Johnson. He shakes a large head, frowns with bushy eyebrows, and rolls out "sir" in the real Boswell style. Two fox-terriers attend him constantly, like familiar spirits, and he is learned in horse-dealing, in riding, in veterinary surgery, and other things relating to the equine part of creation. Peter introduced me to this prop of the Church by fighting with the ecclesiastical terriers. When the dogs were pacified, the masters, parson and vagabond, fraternized over foaming tankards of noble ale. He is a bachelor, and mostly dwells in an untidy back-parlour, which must have been taken from Tom Jones. I'll swear that Squire Western dwelt in such a one. Mr. Jarner paid me a visit yesterday and told me all about Meg. She is a _protégée_ of his, and I fancy he rather disapproved of the deep interest I manifested in the rustic beauty. To calm his apprehensions, I told him who I was, and assured him of my honesty of purpose. I declared myself an honest man. This last he considered was better than being a lord, and, to tell you the truth, I think so myself. Since I doffed my title, Jack, and consorted with my fellow-creatures, I have learned many things of which I would otherwise have been ignorant. If I woo Meg--and I intend to do so--it will be after the fashion of the Lord of Burleigh, not as a landscape painter, but as a simple gentleman rather out at elbows. As such I shall have at least a chance of being loved for myself. I have many things to tell you, but shall reserve them till our meeting in the near future. Were I to commit them to paper this letter would never come to an end. There are certain mysteries connected with the girl I love, which I am trying to fathom. Jarner gives me his assistance, and I have a staunch friend in him. Whether we will be successful yet remains to be seen. To-morrow I go to Farbis Court! No, I am not calling on Miss Linisfarne, as the old lady lives as secluded as a nun. I am going at the invitation of Meg, who proposes to show me the portrait of a certain Sir Alurde Breel, whom she says I greatly resemble. That is not inexplicable, seeing he is an Elizabethan ancestor of mine. Meg does not know this, and is greatly puzzled over what she considers a freak of nature. I believe she is half in love with Sir Alurde, and, as I resemble him so closely, the atavism may perhaps be a help to my wooing.