I "Excellent idea: you must make haste, Dickson. suppose it will get in at the door." So the Altar was brought in: and by the time that it was thoroughly fixed in its new position, the fine old bells chimed ten, and the doors were flung open. Carriage after carriage deposited its load at the porch; there were the jangling, and quarrelling, and oaths of rival coachmen; the chaises, flies, gigs, and taxed carts of the various inns were all in requisition: now you might see the portly farmer, in his Sunday suit, following his feathered and flounced wife and daughters, to whose urgent entreaties he had been forced to yield; now it was the sober tradesman, with his family, seduced by the unusual excitement into an extraordinary holiday; now it was the newspaper reporter, smiling his way in, and then gazing with a critical eye on everything and everybody; now→→→→ shame that it should be so—the clergyman of some neighbouring village entered the desecrated building; now the country squire and his lady took their place in the reserved seats. Mr. Parker from time to time made his appearance, nodding and smiling to such as he knew, politely inquiring after the accommodations and comfort of those with whom he was not acquainted; and Mr. Wingfield remained in the vestry, not joining in the frivolous conversation of its occupants, but gazing with the utmost perseverance on the brick wall which, at a distance of some three feet, circumscribed his view. "Miss Baltimore," said Parker, re-entering the room for about the hundredth time, "I think, if you are ready—it is almost our time—Mr. Styles is already at the organ, and the audience are growing impatient. Will you do me the favour of taking my arm ?" "Mr. Parker, sir," cried the principal beadle, rushing into the vestry, "pray step this way, sir; we are all in an uproar at the door. Here are John Moore and Tom Henderson, and some five or six others, who swear they are parishioners, and have a right to their seats, and that they will take the law of us if we keep them out. What are we to do, sir?" "Do!" said Parker. "Why go and tell them that I shall send the constable to look after them, if they don't make themselves scarce. Baltimore." Now, Miss "Beg your pardon, sir," said the beadle, "but I have told them so already. I don't know how to keep my place there, sir; you really had better speak to them, sir." "Here "This is tiresome enough," said Parker. we are past our time already: I really cannot go to them: send the police at once, either to drive them off, or put them in the round-house." "Hark ye, Mr. Parker!" said Wingfield, who had been an attentive listener to this dialogue, "if you don't let those men in, I hope and trust they will bring an action against you: and if they don't, why I will. That's all." "Mr. Wingfield," cried Parker, in a voice beand surprise. tween rage “That I will, sir, as Wingfield." sure as my name's Tom "Do it and welcome, sir. You can't touch me for it." "Mr. Hutchinson said differently the other day— didn't he? Take care, Parker; take care! You're a clever fellow-but you'll find your cleverness no use in this case." "Mr. Parker," said Mr. Fortescue, entering hastily, "what is the reason of this delay ? It has gone a quarter past eleven; and it is only because they are in a church, that people have not given some audible token of their displeasure." "I don't know where to turn, sir," said Parker. "Here are some rascals at the door, who say they have a right to come in, as being parishioners; and when I desire Smith here to send the police to them, Mr. Wingfield says he'll take the law of me if I do." "Run, Dickson," said Mr. Fortescue, "and ask. Mr. Styles to give them some overture-the sooner the better. Now, Mr. Wingfield, I must say I think this very unneighbourly and unfriendly in you. Supposing that we cannot, according to the letter of the law, shut up the church from any parishioner, you surely need not set on these fellows, and encourage them in their riotous conduct." "Have they a right to a place, sir, or have they not? that's the question. If they have not, nothing that I can do can hurt you: if they have, a pretty charity it must be that leads you to make people pay for what's their own, and with their money support your institutions." "If you persist in taking this view of the case, I suppose we must give way; but allow me to observe, that you at least have no right to speak about charity—we have, at all events, given our time and labour-you have given nothing at all." "I took the liberty of sending up a twenty pound note to the treasurer last night, as a proof that no ill will to the charity makes me act as I have done to-day." "Then why, in the name of wonder, Mr. Wingfield, do you annoy your fellow parishioners, and injure the hospital to the utmost of your power?" "Because, sir," replied Wingfield, "I will not see the name of charity thus prostituted. I will not allow this building, dedicated to the service of GOD, to be desecrated by being perverted to profane uses, I will not, if I can help it, patiently submit to these wholesale alterations of galleries, and orchestras, and pit. Look at that table, sir, and tell me where it came from!" 66 "Well, sir," said Ross, "have your own way! Call in all the tag, rag, and bobtail of the place, if you please; our hands are tied. You know your advantage, and will use it. Your fellow-townsmen will know how to use you henceforward." |