XVIII.

SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS.

It was remarkable how, under these disagreeable experiences, the temper of Mr. Peppery changed towards me. At the time when I seemed to enjoy the general favor of the parish, Mr. Peppery considered me quite intolerable. When, however, some tokens of disapprobation appeared among my former friends, he began to modify the severity of his dislike. In proportion to the extent and energy of the opposition as nearly as he could determine itwas the progress of his growing regard for me.

Unpopularity appeared to him the evidence and seal of moral worth. He graduated his esteem by the adverse ratio of popular favor. The expression, "Woe be unto you when all men shall speak well of you!" seemed to have monopolized a large share of his meditations during life. The only road to his friendship led through the martyr-trodden waste of persecution.

When, at length, the active little reformer had satisfied himself that a collision was inevitable between

the parish and its pastor, he hesitated no longer in arraying his combustible personality on the side of the latter. He became a constant worshipper at church; and, though I avoided getting frantic with any of the ideas of reform, and showed no disposition to annihilate church or state, he listened to my sermons with respectful interest, and even manifested towards me an affectionate solicitude, He formed a habit of waiting for me at the close of the service, when he would grasp my hand in a spasm of sympathy -whisper in my ear, with his waspish voice, some solemn scriptural charge and finally, with a lingering look of compassion (as if he were in the momentary expectation of seeing me immolated), pass mournfully down the aisle, and hurry from the church. Every trace of his former antipathy had disappeared. He seemed to recognize me as a partaker of his own destiny. And, indeed, I used to fancy sometimes, after one of his peculiar ceremonies, that the fiery little man was managing some fearful spell, or consummating some preternatural influence, to conjure away my reason, and twist my fate into his own.

This unaccountable behavior of Mr. Peppery could not, of course, pass unobserved by so vigilant a parish; and it were quite superfluous to remark that it occasioned an immense amount of speculation, which did not tend to enhance my popularity, or restore serenity to the clouded sky of Bubbleton.

One day, Mr. Arlington took the liberty of observing to me

"I find, Brother Chester, there is considerable feeling in the parish in reference to your intimacy with Mr. Peppery."

"Ah," returned I, "the parish is imaginative. Its concern is quite premature, for I am not aware that any such intimacy subsists."

"The people judge only by what they see," continued Mr. Arlington, significantly; "and you will admit that Mr. Peppery's conduct is very singular. Why, he has the very air of a conspirator, Brother Chester."

"I confess that he appears to me as a very singular man," I answered; "but I am astonished that the parish, after having known him so long, should try to make me accountable for his eccentricities. Is not this a most preposterous piece of injustice, Brother Arlington?"

"Undoubtedly, it is unjust; but then the people feel that circumstances warrant their apprehensions. They know Mr. Peppery to be a dangerous individual - a man leagued with the enemies of our glorious constitution a reviler of our national honor,-- in short, a political incendiary. They observe that, ever since the day you preached that remarkable sermon on truth, Mr. Peppery has attended on your ministry, and manifested the most unequivocal interest in your affairs. Can you wonder that they regard you with some distrust, in view of your having secured the approval of such a man? Is it not natural that they should identify your principles with

his? Really, it is much to be regretted," concluded Mr. Arlington, with benign sorrow, "that such a mischievous person should connect himself at all with a minister of ours."

It was but a day or two subsequent to this conversation, that Mr. Peppery waited upon me at home. He certainly did exhibit the air of a conspirator, as he grasped my hand, peered into my face, and demanded, with all the energy of his terrific little voice :

"Isn't it about time you gave them another shot, Brother Chester?"

I recoiled from the waspish little reformer, with a feeling akin to terror. There was something almost supernatural in the solemn fierceness and suppressed impatience of his manner.

"Another shot! Who?" exclaimed I, half recovering.

"Why, the parish- the church, to be sure. An't you going to blow them again?"

"Blow the parish? — the church? I'm not sure I understand you."

"Not understand me? Yes you do!

Come!

or some

where's the use of playing a part? Didn't you give them the sermon I exhorted you to preach thing as good? and did n't it echo through Bubbleton, like the blast of a trumpet? Has n't the parish been in an uproar about it, ever since? and an't the hypocrites resolved to expel you from your charge? Not understand me? Nonsense! Is n't it war between you? and have n't you got to defend yourself?"

"Brother Peppery," said I, now quite recovered, "let us understand each other entirely, if we can. You mistake my disposition and intentions. The sermon to which you allude was not suggested by your visit. That it has occasioned some sensation in the parish, I was informed. What the issue is to be, I cannot tell. But I have no desire to provoke strife. While I hope for courage to speak the truth to my hearers, faithfully, I shall exert myself to promote peace. I should not deem myself justified in pursuing the course which you appear to have expected."

As I had foreseen, in thus "defining my position," I put Mr. Peppery into a passion. He snarled at me, with a most furious scowl of disappointment:

"Are you, then, the same tame-spirited, compromising slip of a recreant ministry I found you before? The Lord help such drivellers, and those who look to them to be equipped for the battle of life! How miserably have I redeemed the time, of late, listening to your timid twaddle! Well!" shrieked the little reformer, as he darted through the doorway, "I was a fool for thinking that a drop of God's grace survived in any minister, or church, in this doomed city. They are altogether become unprofitable, and the wrath of Heaven is revealed against them!"

I thought the mad little prophet had gone, but he returned upon me, with a flash of latent scorn playing over his fiery face, and exclaimed:

"Remember, you have put your hand to the plough, and now you look back. You have lost the