A few of the fishermen looked at one another; they shook their heads; one of them wiped his forehead. “'Twill be all the same after Monday, Parson,” said that man. “You parboiled lobster-grabber!” cried the Parson. “Do you mean to say that you have the effrontery to believe that addle-pate up there rather than a clergyman of the Church of England? Look at him. He's not a man.'Tis a poor cut torn from, a child's picture Bible that he is! Do you believe that the world would come to an end without your properly ordained clergyman giving you a hint of it? Go on with your work, if you are men. Repent? Ay, you'll all repent when 'tis too late, if you fail to haul up your boats so that their backs get not broken on that ridge. If you feel that you must repent, do it hauling. And when you've done your work, come up to the Rectory and cool your throats with a jug of cider, cool from the cellar, mind.” “There shall be no more sea,” came the voice of the man on the mound; it was growing appreciably hoarser. “No more sea?” shouted the parson. “That's an unlucky shot of yours, my addle-pated prophet; 'tis too much sea that we be suffering from just here.” Wesley had not reseated himself. He put his hand upon Mr. Hartwell's arm. The latter understood what he meant. They walked away together. “I have seen nothing sadder for years,” said Wesley. “I have been asking myself if I am to blame. Should not I have been more careful in regard to that unhappy man?” “If blame is to be attached to any it is to be attached to those who recommended the man to you, and I was among them,” said Hartwell. “I recall how you were not disposed to accept him into our fellowship by reason of his work with the divining rod; but we persuaded you against your judgment. I, for one, shall never forgive myself.” “Was ever aught so saddening as that travesty of the most solemn event?” said Wesley. “And then the spectacle of that well-meaning but ill-balanced man! A clergyman of our Church--you saw him turn to mock the wretch? He made a jest upon the line that has never failed to send a thrill through me: 'No more sea.' Shocking--shocking!... Friend, I came hither with the full intention of administering a rebuke to Pritchard--of openly letting it be understood that we discountenanced him. But I did not do so to-day, and I am glad of it. However vain the man may be--however injuriously he may affect our aims among the people--I am still glad that I was turned away from saying a word against him.” Mr. Hartwell was too practical a man to look at the matter in the same light. But he said nothing further about Pritchard. When he spoke, which he did after a time, it was about Bennet. He asked Wesley if he could guess why the man had spoken to him so bitterly. Why should the man bear him a grudge? Wesley mentioned that Bennet had come upon him when he was walking with Polwhele's daughter from the Mill.