proposal, on the grounds that there was "no
precedent." He stoutly resisted the attempt
which one or two of the Chapter had made
to enlarge the choir, and throw the whole
Cathedral open for purposes of public worship,
and defended the clumsy oak and deal
partitions which spoilt the Cathedral, simply
because they had always been there in his time.
When a new organist came down from
London, and found that the bellows didn't
supply wind enough, and that there were no
pedal-pipes, the Dean, who cared not a straw
for music, said that he was very sorry to hear
it; but that the organ did well enough. If
any money was proposed to be appropriated
to any purpose, he simply said, "there were
no funds." His own house displayed much
the same feeling; for, excepting the drawing-
room, where the taste of the female part of
the family had been at work, the old, heavy
furniture, which had belonged to the Deanery
for nearly a century, still did its duty, in
defiance of modern elegance, and the ample
resources of its occupant.

He was an immensely regular man. Whatever
might be the state of the weather, he was in
his "stall" every morning at eight o'clock, and
read the service through, always in the same
loud, commanding tone, with something of an
air of patronage, as though the circumstance
of a Dean saying his prayers gave an
additional respectability to religion. He always
breakfasted, and dined, at the same hour; ate
two eggs and some dry toast at the former
meal, and always took wine ceremoniously
with his eldest son, who was married, at the
latter. He never felt at a loss what to do with
himself, because he spent every day alike.
The only difference was, that sometimes he
read proof-sheets, and at other times prepared
"copy," His wife was very amiable, and a
woman of taste, and his family had all turned
out well; that is to say, they were perfectly
inoffensive, and by no means obtrusively
clever.

But, on the day which first introduces the
very Reverend the Dean of St. Vitus to our
readers, his feelings had received a series of
rude shocks. In the first place, before he
started to go to chapel, the verger came round
with the charming news that a stack of
chimneys, belonging to some unused offices of
the Cathedral, had fallen through one of the
windows in the left aisle, smashing the stained
glass to atoms, and chipping off the nose and
hands of St. Ursula de Vitus, the traditional
foundress of the Cathedral, whose effigy had
hitherto rested undisturbed. As the Dean
had zealously opposed the taking down of
that identical stack of chimneys, he knew that
he alone was to blame, and read the Litany
with irritated and abashed feelings.

He had scarcely finished breakfast when a
deputation from the "Pay Your Curates
Commission" waited upon him, with extreme, but
ominous, politeness. As their object was to
claim some two thousand odd pounds, which,
it appeared, ought to have been given up long
ago, it did not contribute materially to allay
the annoyance respecting St. Ursula's broken
nose. The Dean, like many other persons,
hated arithmetic, except when its product
was on his own side; and his being suddenly
called upon to give a full, true, and minute
account of his income, and the different
sources thereof, was a cruel innovation upon
domestic rights, and a wanton interruption to
his lexicographical labours. Another
difficulty was, that the Dean, so long as he
received the money, had never troubled himself
about the precise quarter from which it came;
and, truth to say, some of those quarters were
but doubtful. He, however, said he'd
consider the matter.

Not an hour later, a gentleman called to
entreat that the inhabitants might be ejected
from a house adjoining his own, and belonging
to the Dean and Chapter of St. Vitus. He
gave such desperate proofs of the utter
depravity of the present tenants, and the
nuisance they were to the neighbourhood,
that Dr. Gudgeon advised him to speak to
their "manager" about it, and said he'd
consider what could be done.

Lunch was spoilt by the appearance of the
"Times" newspaper, to which we have
already alluded. The leading article
contained a sweeping attack on the Cathedral
system in general, in connection with a speech
in the House the night before, in which the
unhappy Dean of St. Vitus was painfully
mixed up with a question of misappropriated
property. This consummated the evils of the
day, and Dr. Van Gudgeon, having made a
dinner without appetite, withdrew to his
study to think matters over, taking his Port
with him.

The Dean well remembered that, several
years back, the resignation of a certain manor,
as well as some other pecuniary concessions,
had been urged upon him by the Pay Your
Curates Commission, and agreed to by
himself. The said Commission, after mature
deliberation, had come to the conclusion that
a Deanery, with a couple of thousands a year,
together with a sinecure living of some seven
or eight hundred attached, and a couple of
stalls, averaging from nine to twelve hundred
a year each, formed an adequate provision for
any ecclesiastic, and the Doctor was persuaded
to give up the tithes of the manor in question,
and several other "pickings" of less
importance.

But somehow or other, the Dean's promise
wasn't performed to the very letter. His
Deanery one year turned up a large "fine,"
by which the Chapter got some few thousands,
but the Pay Your Curates got nothing. He
certainly paid three or four hundred a year
to the Commission, but the tithes of the
Horseferry manor were far richer. The
members of the Commission were remarkably
lenient on the subject, and gave long credit.
At length, finding the St. Vitus parties getting