 shameful reputation, is
avoided by giving an incumbent indefinite leave of absence; but this
is, after all, only a confession of weakness, and the fact that the
parson still takes the income of the benefice, though his work is done
by another, that itself is a scandal. Ecclesiastical reformers, lay or
clerical, who stop short of dealing with the subject of the parson’s
freehold, are merely hacking and lopping the branches in the vain hope
of saving the tree. If the thing is rotten, let it die placidly, or
let it be cut down bravely. Where you have not the pluck to do the one
thing, why fidget about the other?

Happily, however, we are not much troubled with “criminous clerks,”
we country parsons. The regular out-and-out bad ones usually retire
into holes and corners, and they are but few and far between. We hear
of them much more from our Meetingers than from any one else. The
Meetinger keeps himself posted up with the last clerical escapade, and
fires it off at us when he gets a chance, and the old argument has to
be gone over again, and the parson goes home feeling that he was born
to be badgered, and that he must expect it even to the end of the world.

It may seem strange to the inexperienced, but it is none the less true,
that we suffer a great deal more from the best of our brethren than
we do from the worst. They are the over-zealous, who are determined
to change the face of the world and revolutionize society and reform
everything, and improve everybody, and who cannot leave things alone
to develop and grow, who make their fellow-creatures’ lives a burden
to them. When we are young we have such unbounded faith in ourselves,
and such unbounded ignorance and inexperience. The world is all before
us, and all to conquer and remodel; our seniors are sad fogeys, so
slow, so stiff, so cautious. There is so much dust everywhere and upon
everything. Our brooms are so new, so swishy, and our arms so strong.
We have our wits about us, and our senses all keen and sharp. We find
it hard to believe that we hav