He had been applied to respecting the
educational destitution which existed there; said
he was very sorry to hear it, and wished it
could be amended—and that was all.
Repentance now seemed taking hold of the
Dean's thoughts, and a strong feeling of self-
condemnation was rapidly awakening him
from his long moral slumber.

But, as ill fate would have it, or, as the
spirit of evil is always on the look-out to clap
an extinguisher upon any scintillations of good
feelings, the Dean happened suddenly to think
of his family. Sad thing that parental affection
should so often be made a cover for
forgetfulness of the common claims of
mankind, or that the pretext of benefiting "those
belonging to one" should make us forget Him
to whom all things belong! At this very
moment, when the Dean had almost made up
his mind to refund certain moneys, and do
various, much-called-for justice to the objects
of his past neglect, he recollected that his
wife had just agreed to pay the cook a higher
salary, to prevent her leaving her place for
another in a far wealthier family; and he also
remembered that the butler had thrown out
some hints as to an additional foot-boy being
required. Moreover, the last bin of Port wine
had been a strong draw on his purse, and the
aviary Mrs. Van Gudgeon was building in the
midst of the lawn would come to a handsome
sum when finished; and the Dean hated "going
on credit," as most married people do, who
can have no necessity for it. Then Caroline
was engaged to Colonel Fityswag, who had
nothing besides his pay, and something hand-
some must be done for her. Worse than all,
the Dean's banking-book was still very far
from the sum which, in the case of a church-
man of respectability, ought to pay probate
duty.

Selfishness had done its work, and
indolence, encouraged at its progress, revived, and
began again. Her arguments were somewhat
as follows.

It was of no use doing anything, because it
would be altering what had been done before.
The newspaper agitation would soon cease,
and the House would not do anything in the
matter. If he began to do anything, he would
be obliged to go on, and what might the con-
consequences be? He couldn't interfere with his
living, because he had always left it to his
curate. It wouldn't do to begin a fuss about
schools, baths, wash-houses, dispensaries, and
all that sort of thing, because, wherever it had
begun, there was no end to it. He would get
St. Ursula's nose repaired, and have the
chimney (which was, by-the-bye, of no earthly
use) substantially rebuilt; and that would be
something off his mind.

As to his past career, he totally forgot his
own early trials in his present affluence. It
was surprising how soon he discovered the
immense advantage of leaving youths to shift
for themselves! Here was another qualm of
conscience hushed most admirably.

As to retrenching his establishment,
humanity forbade it. Could he turn the
respectable, demure, gentlemanly-looking butler,
who had never done anything but keep the
keys and decant the wine, abruptly upon the
world, perhaps to humiliate himself by
advertising in the "Times?" Could he get rid
of the faithful footman, who had slept in the
great chair, or looked out of the little hall
window, for the last fifteen years? So pleased
was the Dean with his own humane feelings,
that he thought it would even be unjust to
turn disreputable parties out of the Cathedral
tenements, as long as they paid their
rent.

Sophistry had done its worst, when the
Dean awoke to the returning consciousness
of outward things. His eye rested upon
the unread proof-sheet, and his vanity
glistened in his whole features as he asked
whether the boon of such a volume (which,
by the way, was to be printed at the
expense of an University press) did not
exonerate him from the claims of common-
place, unscholastic honesty. He called for
his coffee; wrote a cheque for a terribly
inadequate amount, and enclosed it to the
Commissioners, resolving to take the chance
of being compelled to do more. He sent a
polite note to the Rev. Canon Groins, D.D.,
F.R.S., &c., who took an interest in mediæval
architecture, entreating him to see to the
proper repair of St. Ursula, at his (the
Dean's) expense, and told his footman that
he needn't bring the "Times" into his study
any more.

Our worthy Doctor felt so happy at the
off prospect of doing nothing, or of having
silenced his conscience as to the propriety of
that very safe method of proceeding, that he
returned to his proof-sheets and Port wine
with a relish keener than ever. The
newspapers, however, were provokingly tiresome,
and when the Dean's staunch friend and patron,
Sir Rowland Graehame, attempted his defence
in the House, they said he had fully proved
what he sought to contradict. The Bishop of
Eddystone likewise "defended" the worthy
Dean, and heaped abundance of well-pointed
sarcasms, dipped in oily politeness, upon the
heads of the accusers. But the obstinate,
not-to-be-convinced, believe-what-I-see
newspapers, said the Bishop had not only found
his client guilty, but had passed condemnation
upon him into the bargain.

When we last saw the Dean, we fancied
he was a trifle soured, though he looked as well
as ever. But we were told that the Lexicon
"hangs fire," and that the reverend gentleman
has of late become very intimate with lawyers,
advocates, attorneys, Serjeants, and other
people of whom he formerly entertained a
most unchurchmanlike hatred. There is even
a report afloat, that the living of Kneedy-
dough will pass to his second son, who
has suddenly manifested a desire to take
orders.