Shedidnotwastetimeontherestoftheaudience。Shewentdirectforthatcoalheaver，andthereuponensuedaslangingmatchthememoryofwhichsendsatrillofadmirationthroughmeeventothisday。Itwasabattleworthyofthegods。Hewasaheaverofcoals，quickandreadybeyondhiskind。DuringmanyyearssojournEastandSouth，inthecourseofmanywanderingsfromBillingsgatetoLimehouseHole，fromPetticoatLanetoWhite—chapelRoad；outofeel—pieshopandpennygaff；outoftavernandstreet，andcourtanddoss—house，hehadgatheredtogetherslangwordsandtermsandphrases，andtheycamebacktohimnow，andhestoodupagainsthermanfully。
Butaswellmightthelambstandupagainsttheeagle，whentheshadowofitswingsfallsacrossthegreenpastures，andthewindfliesbeforeitsdarkoncoming。Attheendoftwominuteshelaygasping，dazed，andspeechless。
Thenshebegan。
Sheannouncedherintentionof"wipingdownthebloomin’’all"withhim，andmakingitrespectable；and，metaphoricallyspeaking，thatiswhatshedid。Hertonguehithimbetweentheeyes，andknockedhimdownandtrampledonhim。Itcurledroundandroundhimlikeawhip，andthenituncurledandwoundtheotherway。Itseizedhimbythescruffofhisneck，andtossedhimupintotheair，andcaughthimashedescended，andflunghimtotheground，androlledhimonit。Itplayedaroundhimlikeforkedlightning，andblindedhim。Itdancedandshriekedabouthimlikeahostofwhirlingfiends，andhetriedtorememberaprayer，andcouldnot。Ittouchedhimlightlyonthesoleofhisfootandthecrownofhishead，andhishairstoodupstraight，andhislimbsgrewstiff。Thepeoplesittingnearhimdrewaway，notfeelingitsafetobenear，andlefthimalone，surroundedbyspace，andlanguage。
ItwasthemostartisticpieceofworkofitskindthatIhaveeverheard。Everyphrasesheflungathimseemedtohavebeenwovenonpurposetoentanglehimandtoembraceinitschokingfoldshispeopleandhisgods，tostranglewithitsthreadshiseveryhope，ambition，andbelief。Eachtermsheputuponhimclungtohimlikeagarment，andfittedhimwithoutacrease。Thelastnamethatshecalledhimonefelttobe，untiloneheardthenext，theonenamethatheoughttohavebeenchristenedby。
Forfiveandthree—quarterminutesbytheclockshespoke，andneverforoneinstantdidshepauseorfalter；andinthewholeofthatonslaughttherewasonlyoneweakspot。
ThatwaswhensheofferedtomakeabettermanthanhewasoutofaGuyFawkesandalumpofcoal。Youfeltthatonelumpofcoalwouldnothavebeensufficient。
Attheend，shegatheredherselftogetherforonesupremeeffort，andhurledathimaninsultsobitterwithscornsosharpwithinsightintohiscareerandcharacter，soheavywithpropheticcurse，thatstrongmendrewandheldtheirbreathwhileitpassedoverthem，andwomenhidtheirfacesandshivered。
Thenshefoldedherarms，andstoodsilent；andthehouse，fromfloortoceiling，roseandcheeredheruntiltherewasnomorebreathleftinitslungs。
Inthatonenightshesteppedfromoblivionintosuccess。Sheisnowafamous"artiste。"
ButshedoesnotcallherselfSignoraBallatino，andshedoesnotplayuponthezithern。Hernamehasahomeliersound，andherspecialityisthedelineationofcostercharacter。
SILHOUETTES。
IfearImustbeofasomewhatgruesometurnofmind。Mysympathiesarealwayswiththemelancholysideoflifeandnature。IlovethechillOctoberdays，whenthebrownleavesliethickandsoddenunderneathyourfeet，andalowsoundasofstifledsobbingisheardinthedampwoods——theeveningsinlateautumntime，whenthewhitemistcreepsacrossthefields，makingitseemasthougholdEarth，feelingthenightaircoldtoitspoorbones，weredrawingghostlybedclothesrounditswitheredlimbs。Ilikethetwilightofthelonggreystreet，sadwiththewailingcryofthedistantmuffinman。Onethinksofhim，as，strangelymitred，heglidesbythroughthegloom，janglinghisharshbell，astheHighPriestofthepalespiritofIndigestion，summoningthedevouttocomeforthandworship。IfindasweetnessintheachingdrearinessofSabbathafternoonsingenteelsuburbs——intheevil—ladendesolatenessofwasteplacesbytheriver，whentheyellowfogisstealinginlandacrosstheoozeandmud，andtheblacktidegurglessoftlyroundworm—eatenpiles。
Ilovethebleakmoor，whenthethinlonglineofthewindingroadlieswhiteonthedarkeningheath，whileoverheadsomebelatedbird，vexedwithitselfforbeingoutsolate，scurriesacrosstheduskysky，screamingangrily。Ilovethelonely，sullenlake，hiddenawayinmountainsolitudes。Isupposeitwasmychildhood’ssurroundingsthatinstilledinmethisaffectionforsombrehues。Oneofmyearliestrecollectionsisofadrearymarshlandbythesea。Byday，thewaterstoodthereinwide，shallowpools。Butwhenonelookedintheeveningtheywerepoolsofbloodthatlaythere。
Itwasawild，dismalstretchofcoast。Oneday，Ifoundmyselfthereallalone——Iforgethowitcameabout——and，oh，howsmallI
feltamidtheskyandtheseaandthesandhills!Iran，andran，andran，butIneverseemedtomove；andthenIcried，andscreamed，louderandlouder，andthecirclingseagullsscreamedbackmockinglyatme。Itwasan"unken"spot，astheysayupNorth。
Inthefarbackdaysofthebuildingoftheworld，along，highridgeofstoneshadbeenrearedupbythesea，dividingtheswampygrasslandfromthesand。Someofthesestones——"pebbles，"sotheycalledthemroundabout——wereasbigasaman，andmanyasbigasafair—sizedhouse；andwhentheseawasangry——andverypronehewastoangerbythatlonelyshore，andveryquicktowrath；oftenhaveI
knownhimsinktosleepwithapeacefulsmileonhisripplingwaves，towakeinfiercefurybeforethenightwasspent——hewouldsnatchupgianthandfulsofthesepebblesandflingandtossthemhereandthere，tillthenoiseoftheirrollingandcrashingcouldbeheardbythewatchersinthevillageafaroff。
"OldNick’splayingatmarblesto—night，"theywouldsaytooneanother，pausingtolisten。Andthenthewomenwouldclosetighttheirdoors，andtrynottohearthesound。
Farouttosea，bywherethemuddymouthoftheriveryawnedwide，thereroseeverathinwhitelineofsurf，andunderneaththosecrestedwavestheredweltaveryfearsomething，calledtheBar。I
grewtohateandbeafraidofthismysteriousBar，forIhearditspokenofalwayswithbatedbreath，andIknewthatitwasverycrueltofisherfolk，andhurtthemsosometimesthattheywouldcrywholedaysandnightstogetherwiththepain，orwouldsitwithwhitescaredfaces，rockingthemselvestoandfro。
OncewhenIwasplayingamongthesandhills，therecamebyatall，greywoman，bendingbeneathaloadofdriftwood。Shepausedwhennearlyoppositetome，and，facingseaward，fixedhereyesuponthebreakingsurfabovetheBar。"Ah，howIhatethesightofyourwhiteteeth!"shemuttered；thenturnedandpassedon。
Anothermorning，walkingthroughthevillage，Iheardalowwailingcomefromoneofthecottages，whilealittlefartheronagroupofwomenweregatheredintheroadway，talking。"Ay，"saidoneofthem，"IthoughttheBarwaslookinghungrylastnight。"
So，puttingoneandtheothertogether，Iconcludedthatthe"Bar"
mustbeanogre，suchasabodyreadsofinbooks，wholivedinacoralcastledeepbelowtheriver’smouth，andfeduponthefishermenashecaughtthemgoingdowntotheseaorcominghome。
Frommybedroomwindow，onmoonlightnights，Icouldwatchthesilveryfoam，markingthespotbeneathwherehelayhid；andIwouldstandontip—toe，peeringout，untilatlengthIwouldcometofancyIcouldseehishideousformfloatingbelowthewaters。Then，asthelittlewhite—sailedboatsstolebyhim，tremblingly，Iusedtotrembletoo，lestheshouldsuddenlyopenhisgrimjawsandgulpthemdown；andwhentheyhadallsafelyreachedthedark，softseabeyond，Iwouldstealbacktothebedside，andpraytoGodtomaketheBargood，sothathewouldgiveupeatingthepoorfishermen。
Anotherincidentconnectedwiththatcoastlivesinmymind。Itwasthemorningafteragreatstorm——greatevenforthatstormycoast——
andthepassion—wornwaterswerestillheavingwiththememoryofafurythatwasdead。OldNickhadscatteredhismarblesfarandwide，andtherewererentsandfissuresinthepebblywallsuchastheoldestfishermanhadneverknownbefore。Someofthehugeststoneslaytossedahundredyardsaway，andthewatershaddugpitshereandtherealongtheridgesodeepthatatallmanmightstandinsomeofthem，andyethisheadnotreachthelevelofthesand。
Roundoneoftheseholesasmallcrowdwaspressingeagerly，whileoneman，standinginthehollow，wasliftingthefewremainingstonesoffsomethingthatlaythereatthebottom。Ipushedmywaybetweenthestragglinglegsofabigfisherlad，andpeeredoverwiththerest。Arayofsunlightstreameddownintothepit，andthethingatthebottomgleamedwhite。Sprawlingthereamongtheblackpebblesitlookedlikeahugespider。Onebyonethelaststoneswereliftedaway，andthethingwasleftbare，andthenthecrowdlookedatoneanotherandshivered。
"Wonderhowhegotthere，"saidawomanatlength；"somebodymustha’
helpedhim。"
"Someforeignchap，nodoubt，"saidthemanwhohadliftedoffthestones；"washedashoreandburiedherebythesea。"
"What，sixfootbelowthewater—mark，wi’alltheystonesatopofhim？"saidanother。
"That’snoforeignchap，"criedagrizzledoldwoman，pressingforward。"What’sthatthat’sasidehim？"
Someonejumpeddownandtookitfromthestonewhereitlayglistening，andhandedituptoher，andsheclutcheditinherskinnyhand。Itwasagoldearring，suchasfishermensometimeswear。Butthiswasasomewhatlargeone，andofratherunusualshape。
"That’syoungAbramParsons，Itell’ee，asliesdownthere，"criedtheoldcreature，wildly。"Ioughttoknow。Igavehimthepairo’
thesefortyyearago。"
Itmaybeonlyanideaofmine，bornofafterbroodinguponthescene。Iaminclinedtothinkitmustbeso，forIwasonlyachildatthetime，andwouldhardlyhavenoticedsuchathing。Butitseemstomyremembrancethatastheoldcroneceased，anotherwomaninthecrowdraisedhereyesslowly，andfixedthemonawithered，ancientman，wholeantuponastick，andthatforamoment，unnoticedbytherest，thesetwostoodlookingstrangelyateachother。
Fromthesesea—scentedscenes，mymemorytravelstoawearylandwheredeadasheslie，andthereisblackness——blacknesseverywhere。
Blackriversflowbetweenblackbanks；black，stuntedtreesgrowinblackfields；blackwitheredflowersbyblackwayside。Blackroadsleadfromblacknesspastblacknesstoblackness；andalongthemtrudgeblack，savage—lookingmenandwomen；andbythemblack，old—
lookingchildrenplaygrim，unchildishgames。
Whenthesunshinesonthisblackland，itglittersblackandhard；
andwhentherainfallsablackmistrisestowardsheaven，likethehopelessprayerofahopelesssoul。
Bynightitislessdreary，forthentheskygleamswithaluridlight，andoutofthedarknesstheredflamesleap，andhighupintheairtheygambolandwrithe——thedemonspawnofthatevilland，theyseem。
Visitorswhocametoourhousewouldtellstrangetalesofthisblackland，andsomeofthestoriesIaminclinedtothinkweretrue。Onemansaidhesawayoungbull—dogflyataboyandpinhimbythethroat。Theladjumpedaboutwithmuchsprightliness，andtriedtoknockthedogaway。Whereupontheboy’sfatherrushedoutofthehouse，hardby，andcaughthissonandheirroughlybytheshoulder。
"Keepstill，theeyoung——，can’t’ee!"shoutedthemanangrily；"let’untasteblood。"
Anothertime，Iheardaladytellhowshehadvisitedacottageduringastrike，tofindthebaby，togetherwiththeotherchildren，almostdyingforwantoffood。"Dear，dearme!"shecried，takingtheweewizenedmitefromthemother’sarms，"butIsentyoudownaquartofmilk，yesterday。Hasn’tthechildhadit？"
"Theerweeralittlecoom，thank’eekindly，ma’am，"thefathertookuponhimselftoanswer；"buttheeseeitweeronlyjustenowforthepoops。"
Welivedinabiglonelyhouseontheedgeofawidecommon。Onenight，Iremember，justasIwasreluctantlypreparingtoclimbintobed，therecameawildringingatthegate，followedbyahoarse，shriekingcry，andthenafrenziedshakingoftheironbars。
Thenhurryingfootstepssoundedthroughthehouse，andtheswiftopeningandclosingofdoors；andIslippedbackhastilyintomyknickerbockersandranout。Thewomenfolkweregatheredonthestairs，whilemyfatherstoodinthehall，callingtothemtobequiet。Andstillthewildringingofthebellcontinued，and，aboveit，thehoarse，shriekingcry。
Myfatheropenedthedoorandwentout，andwecouldhearhimstridingdownthegravelpath，andweclungtooneanotherandwaited。
Afterwhatseemedanendlesstime，weheardtheheavygateunbarred，andquicklyclangedto，andfootstepsreturningonthegravel。Thenthedooropenedagain，andmyfatherentered，andbehindhimacrouchingfigurethatfeltitswaywithitshandsasitcreptalong，asablindmanmight。Thefigurestoodupwhenitreachedthemiddleofthehall，andmoppeditseyeswithadirtyragthatitcarriedinitshand；afterwhichitheldtheragovertheumbrella—standandwrungitout，aswasherwomenwringoutclothes，andthedarkdrippingsfellintothetraywithadull，heavysplut。
Myfatherwhisperedsomethingtomymother，andshewentouttowardstheback；and，inalittlewhile，weheardthestampingofhoofs——theangryplungeofaspur—startledhorse——therhythmicthrobofthelong，straightgallop，dyingawayintothedistance。
Mymotherreturnedandspokesomereassuringwordstotheservants。
Myfather，havingmadefastthedoorandextinguishedallbutoneortwoofthelights，hadgoneintoasmallroomontherightofthehall；thecrouchingfigure，stillmoppingthatmoisturefromitseyes，followinghim。Wecouldhearthemtalkingthereinlowtones，myfatherquestioning，theothervoicethickandinterspersedwithshortpantinggrunts。
Weonthestairshuddledclosertogether，and，inthedarkness，I
feltmymother’sarmstealroundmeandencompassme，sothatIwasnotafraid。Thenwewaited，whilethesilenceroundourfrightenedwhispersthickenedandgrewheavytilltheweightofitseemedtohurtus。
Atlength，outofitsdepths，therecrepttoourearsafaintmurmur。
Itgatheredstrengthlikethesoundoftheoncomingofawaveuponastonyshore，untilitbrokeinaBabelofvehementvoicesjustoutside。Afterafewmoments，thehubbubceased，andtherecameafuriousringing——thenangryshoutsdemandingadmittance。
Someofthewomenbegantocry。Myfathercameoutintothehall，closingtheroomdoorbehindhim，andorderedthemtobequiet，sosternlythattheywerestunnedintosilence。Thefuriousringingwasrepeated；and，thistime，threatsmingledamongthehoarseshouts。
Mymother’sarmtightenedaroundme，andIcouldhearthebeatingofherheart。
Thevoicesoutsidethegatesankintoalowconfusedmumbling。Soontheydiedawayaltogether，andthesilenceflowedback。
Myfatherturnedupthehalllamp，andstoodlistening。
Suddenly，fromthebackofthehouse，rosethenoiseofagreatcrashing，followedbyoathsandsavagelaughter。
Myfatherrushedforward，butwasborneback；and，inaninstant，thehallwasfullofgrim，ferociousfaces。Myfather，tremblingalittle（orelseitwastheshadowcastbytheflickeringlamp），andwithlipstightpressed，stoodconfrontingthem；whilewewomenandchildren，tooscaredtoevencry，shrankbackupthestairs。
Whatfollowedduringthenextfewmomentsis，inmymemory，onlyaconfusedtumult，abovewhichmyfather’shigh，cleartonesriseeverynowandagain，entreating，arguing，commanding。Iseenothingdistinctlyuntiloneofthegrimmestofthefacesthrustsitselfbeforetheothers，andavoicewhich，likeAaron’srod，swallowsupallitsfellows，saysindeep，determinedbass，"Coom，we’vehadenowchatter，master。Theemungive’unup，ortheemungetouto’th’
wayan’we’llsearchth’houseforoursel’。"
Thenalightflashedintomyfather’seyesthatkindledsomethinginsideme，sothatthefearwentoutofme，andIstruggledtofreemyselffrommymother’sarm，forthedesirestirredmetoflingmyselfdownuponthegrimyfacesbelow，andbeatandstampuponthemwithmyfists。Springingacrossthehall，hesnatchedfromthewallwhereithunganancientclub，partofatrophyofoldarmour，andplantinghisbackagainstthedoorthroughwhichtheywouldhavetopass，heshouted，"Thenbedamnedtoyouall，he’sinthisroom!
Comeandfetchhimout。"
（Irecollectthatspeechwell。Ipuzzledoverit，evenatthattime，excitedthoughIwas。Ihadalwaysbeentoldthatonlylow，wickedpeopleeverusedtheword"damn，"andItriedtoreconcilethings，andfailed。）
Themendrewbackandmutteredamongthemselves。Itwasanugly—
lookingweapon，studdedwithironspikes。Myfatherhelditsecuredtohishandbyachain，andtherewasanuglylookabouthimalso，now，thatgavehisfaceastrangelikenesstothedarkfacesroundhim。
Butmymothergrewverywhiteandcold，andunderneathherbreathshekeptcrying，"Oh，willtheynevercome——willtheynevercome？"andacricketsomewhereaboutthehousebegantochirp。
Thenallatonce，withoutaword，mymotherflewdownthestairs，andpassedlikeaflashoflightthroughthecrowdofduskyfigures。HowshediditIcouldneverunderstand，forthetwoheavyboltshadbothbeendrawn，butthenextmomentthedoorstoodwideopen；andahumofvoices，cheerywiththeanticipationofaperiodofperfectbliss，wasborneinuponthecoolnightair。
Mymotherwasalwaysveryquickofhearing。
Again，Iseeawildcrowdofgrimfaces，andmyfather’s，verypale，amongstthem。Butthistimethefacesareverymany，andtheycomeandgolikefacesinadream。Thegroundbeneathmyfeetiswetandsloppy，andablackrainisfalling。Therearewomen’sfacesinthecrowd，wildandhaggard，andlongskinnyarmsstretchoutthreateninglytowardsmyfather，andshrill，frenziedvoicescalloutcursesonhim。Boys’facesalsopassmeinthegreylight，andonsomeofthemthereisanimpishgrin。
Iseemtobeineverybody’sway；andtogetoutofit，Icrawlintoadark，draughtycornerandcrouchthereamongcinders。Aroundme，greatenginesfiercelystrainandpantlikelivingthingsfightingbeyondtheirstrength。Theirgauntarmswhirlmadlyaboveme，andthegroundrockswiththeirthrobbing。Darkfiguresflittoandfro，pausingfromtimetotimetowipetheblacksweatfromtheirfaces。
Thepalelightfades，andtheflame—litnightliesredupontheland。
Theflittingfigurestakestrangeshapes。Ihearthehissingofwheels，thefuriousclankingofironchains，thehoarseshoutingofmanyvoices，thehurryingtreadofmanyfeet；and，throughall，thewailingandweepingandcursingthatneverseemtocease。Idropintoarestlesssleep，anddreamthatIhavebrokenachapelwindow，stone—throwing，andhavediedandgonetohell。
Atlength，acoldhandislaiduponmyshoulder，andIawake。Thewildfaceshavevanishedandallissilentnow，andIwonderifthewholethinghasbeenadream。Myfatherliftsmeintothedog—cart，andwedrivehomethroughthechilldawn。
Mymotheropensthedoorsoftlyaswealight。Shedoesnotspeak，onlylooksherquestion。"It’sallover，Maggie，"answersmyfatherveryquietly，ashetakesoffhiscoatandlaysitacrossachair；
"we’vegottobegintheworldafresh。"
Mymother’sarmsstealupabouthisneck；andI，feelingheavywithatroubleIdonotunderstand，creepofftobed。
THELEASEOFTHE"CROSSKEYS。"
Thisstoryisaboutashop：manystoriesare。OneSundayeveningthisBishophadtopreachasermonatSt。Paul’sCathedral。Theoccasionwasaveryspecialandimportantone，andeveryGod—fearingnewspaperinthekingdomsentitsownspecialrepresentativetoreporttheproceedings。
Now，ofthethreereportersthuscommissioned，onewasamanofappearancesoeminentlyrespectablethatnoonewouldhavethoughtoftakinghimforajournalist。PeopleusedtoputhimdownforaCountyCouncillororanArchdeaconattheveryleast。Asamatteroffact，however，hewasasinfulman，withapassionforgin。HelivedatBow，and，ontheSabbathinquestion，helefthishomeatfiveo’clockintheafternoon，andstartedtowalktothesceneofhislabours。TheroadfromBowtotheCityonawetandchillySundayeveningisacheerlessone；whocanblamehimifonhiswayhestoppedonceortwicetocomforthimselfwith"two"ofhisfavouritebeverage？OnreachingSt。Paul’shefoundhehadtwentyminutestospare——justtimeenoughforonefinal"nip。"HalfwaydownanarrowcourtleadingoutoftheChurchyardhefoundaquietlittlehostelry，and，enteringtheprivatebar，whisperedinsinuatinglyacrossthecounter：
"Twoofginhot，ifyouplease，mydear。"
Hisvoicehadtheself—satisfiedmeeknessofthesuccessfulecclesiastic，hisbearingsuggestedrectitudetemperedbydesiretoavoidobservation。Thebarmaid，impressedbyhismannerandappearance，drewtheattentionofthelandlordtohim。Thelandlordcovertlytookstockofsomuchofhimascouldbeseenbetweenhisbuttoned—upcoatandhisdrawn—downhat，andwonderedhowsoblandandinnocent—lookingagentlemancametoknowofgin。
Alandlord’sduty，however，isnottowonder，buttoserve。Theginwasgiventotheman，andthemandrankit。Helikedit。Itwasgoodgin：hewasaconnoisseur，andheknew。Indeed，sogooddiditseemtohimthathefeltitwouldbeawasteofopportunitynottohaveanothertwopen’orth。Thereforehehadasecond"go"；maybeathird。ThenhereturnedtotheCathedral，andsathimselfdownwithhisnotebookonhiskneeandwaited。
Astheserviceproceededtherestoleoverhimthatspiritofindifferencetoallearthlysurroundingsthatreligionanddrinkarealoneabletobestow。HeheardthegoodBishop’stextandwroteitdown。ThenheheardtheBishop’s"sixthlyandlastly，"andtookthatdown，andlookedathisnotebookandwonderedinapeacefulwaywhathadbecomeofthe"firstly"to"fifthly"inclusive。Hesattherewonderinguntilthepeopleroundhimbegantogetupandmoveaway，whereuponitstruckhimswiftlyandsuddenlythatbehadbeenasleep，andhadtherebyescapedthemainbodyofthediscourse。
Whatonearthwashetodo？Hewasrepresentingoneoftheleadingreligiouspapers。Afullreportofthesermonwaswantedthatverynight。Seizingtherobeofapassingwandsman，hetremulouslyinquirediftheBishophadyetlefttheCathedral。Thewandsmanansweredthathehadnot，butthathewasjustonthepointofdoingso。
"Imustseehimbeforehegoes!"exclaimedthereporter，excitedly。
"Youcan’t，"repliedthewandsman。Thejournalistgrewfrantic。
"Tellhim，"hecried，"apenitentsinnerdesirestospeakwithhimaboutthesermonhehasjustdelivered。To—morrowitwillbetoolate。"
Thewandsmanwastouched；sowastheBishop。Hesaidhewouldseethepoorfellow。
Assoonasthedoorwasshuttheman，withtearsinhiseyes，toldtheBishopthetruth——leavingoutthegin。Hesaidthathewasapoorman，andnotingoodhealth，thathehadbeenuphalfthenightbefore，andhadwalkedallthewayfromBowthatevening。Hedweltonthedisastrousresultstohimselfandhisfamilyshouldhefailtoobtainareportofthesermon。TheBishopfeltsorryfortheman。
Also，hewasanxiousthathissermonshouldbereported。
"Well，Itrustitwillbeawarningtoyouagainstgoingtosleepinchurch，"hesaid，withanindulgentsmile。"Luckily，Ihavebroughtmynoteswithme，andifyouwillpromisetobeverycarefulofthem，andtobringthembacktomethefirstthinginthemorning，Iwilllendthemtoyou。"
Withthis，theBishopopenedandhandedtothemananeatlittleblackleatherbag，insidewhichlayaneatlittlerollofmanuscript。
"Bettertakethebagtokeepitin，"addedtheBishop。"Besureandletmehavethembothbackearlyto—morrow。"
Thereporter，whenheexaminedthecontentsofthebagunderalampintheCathedralvestibule，couldhardlybelievehisgoodfortune。
ThecarefulBishop’snotesweresofullandclearthatforallpracticalpurposestheywereequaltoareport。Hisworkwasalreadydone。Hefeltsopleasedwithhimselfthathedeterminedtotreathimselftoanother"two"ofgin，and，withthisintent，madehiswayacrosstothelittle"public"before—mentioned。
"It’sreallyexcellentginyousellhere，"hesaidtothebarmaidwhenhehadfinished；"Ithink，mydear，I’llhavejustonemore。"
Ateleventhelandlordgentlybutfirmlyinsistedonhisleaving，andhewent，assisted，asfarastheendofthecourt，bythepotboy。
Afterhewasgone，thelandlordnoticedaneatlittleblackbagontheseatwherehehadbeenlying。Examiningitclosely，hediscoveredabrassplatebetweenthehandles，anduponthebrassplatewereengravedtheowner’snameandtitle。Openingthebag，thelandlordsawaneatlittlerollofmanuscript，andacrossacornerofthemanuscriptwaswrittentheBishop’snameandaddress。
Thelandlordblewalong，lowwhistle，andstoodwithhisroundeyeswideopengazingdownattheopenbag。Thenheputonhishatandcoat，andtakingthebag，wentoutdownthecourt，chucklinghugelyashewalked。HewentstraighttothehouseoftheResidentCanonandrangthebell。
"TellMr。——，"hesaidtotheservant，"thatImustseehimto—night。
Iwouldn’tdisturbhimatthislatehourifitwasn’tsomethingveryimportant。"
Thelandlordwasusheredup。Closingthedoorsoftlybehindhim，hecougheddeferentially。
"Well，Mr。Peters"（Iwillcallhim"Peters"），saidtheCanon，"whatisit？"
"Well，sir，"saidMr。Peters，slowlyanddeliberately，"it’saboutthatthereleaseo’mine。Idohopeyougentlemenwillseeyourwaytomakin’ittwenty—oneyearinsteado’fourteen。"
"Godblesstheman!"criedtheCanon，jumpingupindignantly，"youdon’tmeantosayyou’vecometomeateleveno’clockonaSundaynighttotalkaboutyourlease？"
"Well，notentirely，sir，"answeredPeters，unabashed；"there’sanotherlittlethingIwishedtospeaktoyouabout，andthat’sthis"——sayingwhich，helaidtheBishop’sbagbeforetheCanonandtoldhisstory。
TheCanonlookedatMr。Peters，andMr。PeterslookedattheCanon。
"Theremustbesomemistake，"saidtheCanon。
"There’snomistake，"saidthelandlord。"IhadmysuspicionswhenI
firstclappedeyesonhim。Iseedhewasn’tourusualsort，andI
seedhowhetriedtohidehisface。Ifheweren’ttheBishop，thenI
don’tknowaBishopwhenIseesone，that’sall。Besides，there’shisbag，andthere’shissermon。"
Mr。Petersfoldedhisarmsandwaited。TheCanonpondered。SuchthingshadbeenknowntohappenbeforeinChurchhistory。Whynotagain？
"Doesanyoneknowofthisbesidesyourself？"askedtheCanon。
"Notalivin’soul，"repliedMr。Peters，"asyet。"
"Ithink——Ithink，Mr。Peters，"saidtheCanon，"thatwemaybeabletoextendyourleasetotwenty—oneyears。"
"Thankyoukindly，sir，"saidthelandlord，anddeparted。NextmorningtheCanonwaitedontheBishopandlaidthebagbeforehim。
"Oh，"saidtheBishopcheerfully，"he’ssentitbackbyyou，hashe？"
"Hehas，sir，"repliedtheCanon；"andthankfulIamthatitwastomehebroughtit。Itisright，"continuedtheCanon，"thatIshouldinformyourlordshipthatIamawareofthecircumstancesunderwhichitleftyourhands。"
TheCanon’seyewassevere，andtheBishoplaugheduneasily。
"Isupposeitwasn’tquitethethingformetodo，"heansweredapologetically；"butthere，all’swellthatendswell，"andtheBishoplaughed。
ThisstungtheCanon。"Oh，sir，"heexclaimed，withaburstoffervour，"inHeaven’sname——forthesakeofourChurch，letmeentreat——letmeprayyounevertoletsuchathingoccuragain。"
TheBishopturneduponhimangrily。
"Why，whatafussyoumakeaboutalittlething!"hecried；then，seeingthelookofagonyupontheother’sface，hepaused。
"Howdidyougetthatbag？"heasked。
"ThelandlordoftheCrossKeysbroughtitme，"answeredtheCanon；
"youleftittherelastnight。"
TheBishopgaveagasp，andsatdownheavily。Whenherecoveredhisbreath，hetoldtheCanontherealhistoryofthecase；andtheCanonisstilltryingtobelieveit。