MISS CHAUNTRY. MISS ISABEL CHAUNTRY. MISS DE L’AISLE. MISS PYX.
REV. L. ORIEL. REV. O. SLOCUM--[_In the further room._]
_Miss Chauntry_ (_sighing_).--Is it wrong to be in the Guards, dear Mr. Oriel?
_Miss Pyx._--She will make Frank de Boots sell out when he marries.
_Mr. Oriel._--To be in the Guards, dear sister? The church has always encouraged the army. Saint Martin of Tours was in the army; Saint Louis was in the army; Saint Waltheof, our patron, Saint Witikind of Aldermanbury, Saint Wamba, and Saint Walloff were in the army. Saint Wapshot was captain of the guard of Queen Boadicea; and Saint Werewolf was a major in the Danish cavalry. The holy Saint Ignatius of Loyola carried a pike, as we know; and----
_Miss de l’Aisle._--Will you take some tea, dear Mr. Oriel?
_Oriel._--This is not one of _my_ feast days, Sister Emma. It is the feast of Saint Wagstaff of Walthamstow.
_The Young Ladies._--And we must not even take tea!
_Oriel._--Dear sisters, I said not so. _You_ may do as you list; but I am strong (_with a heart-broken sigh_); don’t ply me (_he reels_). I took a little water and a parched pea after matins. To-morrow is a flesh day, and--and I shall be better then.
_Rev. O. Slocum_ (_from within_).--Madam, I take your heart with my small trump.
_Oriel._--Yes, better! dear sister; it is only a passing--a--weakness.
_Miss I. Chauntry._--He’s dying of fever.
_Miss Chauntry._--I’m so glad De Boots need not leave the Blues.
_Miss Pyx._--He wears sackcloth and cinders inside his waistcoat.
_Miss De l’Aisle._--He’s told me to-night he is going to--to--Ro-o-ome. [_Miss De l’Aisle bursts into tears._]
_Rev. O. Slocum._--My lord, I have the highest club, which gives the trick and two by honours.
Thus, you see, we have a variety of clergymen in Our Street. Mr. Oriel is of the pointed Gothic school, while old Slocum is of the good old tawny port-wine school; and it must be confessed that Mr. Gronow, at Ebenezer, has a hearty abhorrence for both.
As for Gronow, I pity him, if his future lot should fall where Mr Oriel supposes that it will.
And as for Oriel, he has not even the benefit of purgatory, which he would accord to his neighbour Ebenezer; while old Slocum pronounces both to be a couple of humbugs; and Mr. Mole, the demure little beetle-browed chaplain of the little church of Avemary Lane, keeps his sly eyes down to the ground when he passes any one of his black-coated brethren.