I knew the Lord would put into my mouth the
words I wanted."

("That's it!" From Brother Gimblet.)

"And he did put into my mouth the words I
wanted."

("So he did!" From Brother Gimblet.)

"And why?"

(" Ah! Let's have that!" from Brother
Gimblet.)

"Because I have been his faithful servant for
five-and-thirty years, and because he knows it.
For five-and-thirty years! And he knows it,
mind you! I got those words that I wanted,
on account of my wages. I got 'em from the
Lord, my fellow-sinners. Down. I said ' Here's
a heap of wages due; let us have something
down on account.' And I got it down, and I
paid it over to you, and you won't wrap it up
in a napkin, nor yet in a towel, not yet in a
pockethankercher, but you'll put it out at good
interest. Very well. Now my brothers and
sisters and fellow- sinners, I am going to
conclude with a question, and I'll make it so
plain (with the help of the Lord, after five-and-
thirty years, I should rather hope!) as that the
Devil shall not be able to confuse it in your
heads. Which he would be overjoyed to do."

(" Just his way. Crafty old blackguard!"
from Brother Gimblet.)

"And the question is this. Are the Angels
learned?"

(" Not they. Not a bit on it." From Brother
Gimblet, with the greatest confidence.)

"Not they. And where's the proof? Sent
ready-made by the hand of the Lord. Why,
there's one among us here now, that has got all
the Learning that can be crammed into him. I
got him all the Learning that could be crammed
into him. His grandfather" (this I had never
heard before) " was a Brother of ours. He was
Brother Parksop. That's what he was. Parksop.
Brother Parksop. His worldly name was
Parksop, and he was a Brother of this Brotherhood.
Then wasn't he Brother Parksop?"

(" Must be. Couldn't help hisself." From
Brother Gimblet.)

"Well. He left that one now here present
among us, to the care of a Brother-Sinner of his
(and that Brother-Sinner, mind you, was a sinner
of a bigger size in his time than any of you,
Praise the Lord!), Brother Hawkyard. Me. I got
him, without fee or reward—without a morsel of
myrrh, or frankinsence, nor yet Amber, letting
alone the honeycomb—all the Learning that
could be crammed into him. Has it brought
him into our Temple, in the spirit? No. Have
we had any ignorant Brothers and Sisters that
didn't know round O from crooked S, come in
among us meanwhile? Many. Then the Angels
are not learned. Then they don't so much as
know their alphabet. And now, my friends and
fellow-sinners, having brought it to that, perhaps
some Brother present—perhaps you, Brother
Gimblet—will pray a bit for us?"

Brother Gimblet undertook the sacred function,
after having drawn his sleeve across his
mouth, and muttered: " Well! I don't know
as I see my way to hitting any of you quite in
the right place neither." He said this with a
dark smile, and then began to bellow. What
we were specially to be preserved from, according
to his solicitations, was despoilment of the
orphan, suppression of testamentary intentions
on the part of a Father or (say) Grandfather,
appropriation of the orphan's house-property,
feigning to give in charity to the wronged one
from whom we withheld his due; and that class
of sins. He ended with the petition, " Give us
peace!" Which, speaking for myself, was very
much needed after twenty minutes of his
bellowing.

Even though I had not seen him when he rose
from his knees, steaming with perspiration,
glance at Brother Hawkyard; and even though
I had not heard Brother Hawkyard's tone of
congratulating him on the vigour with which he
had roared; I should have detected a malicious
application in this prayer. Unformed suspicions
to a similar effect had sometimes passed through
my mind in my earlier school-days, and had always
caused me great distress, for they were worldly
in their nature, and wide, very wide, of the spirit
that had drawn me from Sylvia. They were
sordid suspicions, without a shadow of proof.
They were worthy to have originated in the
unwholesome cellar. They were not only without
proof, but against proof. For, was I not myself
a living proof of what Brother Hawkyard had
done? And without him, how should I ever have
seen the sky look sorrowfully down upon that
wretched boy at Hoghton Towers?

Although the dread of a relapse into a state
of savage selfishness was less strong upon me as
I approached manhood, and could act in an
increased degree for myself, yet I was always on
my guard against any tendency to such relapse.
After getting these suspicions under my feet, I
had been troubled by not being able to like
Brother Hawkyard's manner, or his professed
religion. So it came about, that as I walked
back that Sunday evening, I thought it would
be an act of reparation for any such injury my
struggling thoughts had unwillingly done him,
if I wrote, and placed in his hands before going
to College, a full acknowledgment of his
goodness to me, and an ample tribute of thanks. It
might serve as an implied vindication of him
against any dark scandal from a rival Brother,
and Expounder, or from any other quarter.

Accordingly, I wrote the document with
much care. I may add with much feeling, too,
for it affected me as I went on. Having no
set studies to pursue, in the brief interval
between leaving the Foundation and going to
Cambridge, I determined to walk out to his
place of business and give it into his own hands.

It was a winter afternoon when I tapped at
the door of his little counting-house, which was
at the further end of his long low shop. As I
did so (having entered by the back yard, where
casks and boxes were taken in, and where
there was the inscription " Private Way to the
Counting-house"), a shopman called to me from
the counter that he was engaged.