A Model Discourse.

Evening Post, Volume XLVIII, Issue 48, 25 August 1894, Page 5 (Supplement)

A Model Discourse.

" I shall have great difficulty in making onds meet on a hundred and fifty," said Mr Wilby, sadly. "Inover give more," said the Rector " It's ample for a young bachelor." " You couldn't make it a hundred one oighty?" • " Certainly not." Mr. Wilby looked urdecided. Thoßectoi looked expectant. " I should like to thinli it over," observed the former. "Very good," replied the Rector. "1 have to visit a poor woman, and you car give me your answer when I return — in half an hour. Make yourself comfortable in that arm-chair." The Rector withdrew, and Mr. Wilby sal down and considered whether it were oi were not worth his while to accept the curacy. A hundred and fifty was not much ; but then he had no private resources, and He shifted uneasily in the arm-chair. Something — a lump of somekind — was pressing into the small of his book. He rose and reached his hand down between the b ick of the chair and the loutber cushion. Yes, thero was something. He drew out a roll of paper ; it was a printed document. Further examination revealed the fact that it was a sermon. Mr. Wilby smiled when he saw the words " Sermon Supply Association " at the foot of the outside wrapper. Inside followed the text, "Nowßarabbas w<is a robber," and then came an excellent discourse. " Oh, ho does, does he?" exclaimed Mr. Wilby. " And he told mo that he was particular about a high level of preaching being maintained in his pulpit." Putting the document back in its hidingplace, Mr. Wilby strolled over to the Rector's writing-table and began to look iJly at the things on it— tho presentation inkstand, the testimonial can die -sticks, the church almunac, the photograph of tho Rector's wife (with tho twins on hor knee), mid so forth. A very smart sermon-case of black volvet, ornamented with a cross in gild, lay on the blotting-pad. "To-morrow's sormon, I suppose," observed Mr. Wilby, and ho took it up. '• Now Barabbos was a robber," These words figured at the head of the Rector's discourso. Mr. Wilby read them with a sad smilo, and proceeded to read on. Presently ho went and fetched the hidden document from the armchair, and read that and tho Rector's discourso (which was very neatly written, and tied together with a piece of blue ribbon) alternately. " Really, you know," suid Mr. ; Wilby, "hoB copied it out, word for word, in his own hand- writing." At this moment a step was hoard outside Mr. Wilby hastily put down the Rector's sermon and laid it where he had found it. Tho other document he slid into his coat tail pocket. The Reotor entered. " Well, Mr. Wilby, have you reached a decision P" he asked. ( " I havo decided to accept the charge, jr. Money is not the only thing to be conidered." " I'm glad to hear you say that. We'll cOnsidor it settled, then. And can you begin work at once ?" " To-morrow," said the new curate. "Excellent. I prench in the morning. Perhaps you would take tho Mission Hull service then, nnd preach in the church in the evening ?" " That arrangement will suit me excellently," answered Mr. Wilby ; and after a few more words he took his leave. The parishioners always admired the Reot'ir's sermons very much; but he had seldom givon more satisfaction thau by his Stirring discourse on the text, "Now Barabbas was a robber." It was listened to with breathleos interest ; and on his way home the Rector was forced to promise the loan of the manuscript to no fewer than four ladies, each. of whom was anxious to read and copy it. The Rector's wife, also, declared that Algernon had really surpassed himself, and only regretted that in the evening she would be compelled to suffer the orude production of a raw curate. "Well, well, my dear," said the Rector, "We must make allowances. He's young, and we mustn't expect too muoh from him." The congregation was larger than usual that evening, owing to the interest excited by the now curate's first appearance. It was agreed that Mr. Wilby read very nicely, and the congregation was prepared to treat him with every indulgence when he mounted into the pulpit. The Reotor himself leant forward with an expression of amiable, though somewhat patronising, attention. Mr. Wjlby, whose bearing showed a self-possessed modeßty, gave out bis text in a clear voice, repeating it twice lest anyone should fail to catch it, " Now Barabbas was a robber." The Reotor started ; so did his wife and, many of the congregation. The coincidence _ was remarkable. However, as Mr. Wilby ~ continued the coincidence became very much more remarkable -so remarkable, indeed, as to bo ontirely incredible. Some tittered, some stared, some whispered. The Rector's • wife fixed a stony glare on the preacher ; the Rector himself buried his face in his hands, and only a pair of very red ears testified to the depth of his feelings. For Mr. Wilby preached the very same sermon, identically the same in the slightest word, whioh his Rector had preaohed in the morning! At lust the ordeal — for the Rector it was an ordeal — ended, and he and Mr. Wilby stood together in the vestry. The churchwardens were counting the collection. Silence was unbroken, till Mr. Wilby observed in his innocent voice — " I hope you are not dissatisfied with my first attempt,' Rector? I ought to toll you — " The Rector was gone ! the churchwardens looked at the curate with a sort of horror. He bado them good-night,- and strolled off towards the Reotory. Before the service he had been invited to come to supper. On his way he puwsod several groups of members of the congregation ; .they were talking with much excitement. The curate took no notico of them. " Mastor's in the study, sir," said the maid, when she opened the door. " I will find him for myself," said Mr. Wilby. As be approached the door he heard voices. ' ' I'll thank you to toll me, Algernon, " said a voico. Mr. Wilby knocked loudly, and opened the door. The Rector's wife, still in her bonnet, stood in the middle of the room. Tho Rector was standing by the armchair, with one hand resting on top of the cushion ; he looked as if he were prepared to defend the armchair with the last drop of his blood. «« I . i_» began Mr. Wilby ; "oh, I bog pardon. I didn't see that Mrs. Morrett was here." "I — I've just heard such dreadful— l really can't speak in Mrs. Morrett' s presence." Mrs. Morrett stood her ground. The Rector's hand was sliding stealthily down the back of the armchair. Suddenly he gasped out a loud " Oh !" " Well?" cried Mrs. Morrett. "I can explain," began Mr. Wilby again. But the Reotor, signing him to stop, went up to his wife and took her by the arm. " You shall hear it all later on," he said, and he led her from the room Tho two men were left alone together. The Rector sank into tho fateful armchair, and mopped his brow. Mr. Wilby smiled kindly upon him. "An awkward coincidence, wasn't it?" he said. ' ' You— you villian ! ' ' groaned the Reotor. ' ' After your sermon was so much admired, too!" "You — you've ruined me. 1 must leave tho parish. I oan't face my people." "Oh, cheer up ; " and Mr. Wilby sat down at the writing-table and took up a pen. "Have you a Parish Magazine here?" ho asked. " What's that got to do with it ?" " But have you ?" "Yes." The curate took a sheet of paper and wrote. In five minutes he threw down the pen and read what he had written aloud to the Rector. "I feel bound to explain to the congregation the occurrence of last Sunday. Not having been long in orders, I Buffer greatly from nervousness ; and, although as a rule I trust entirely to my own resources in the pulpit, I felt convinced that if I endeavoured to deliver an original discourse on my first appearance before a congregation of strangers I shonld certainly break down. I, therefore, applied to the head of my college for assistance, and he assured me that, under tbe peculiar circumstances of the case, he considered that I should bo justified in preaching a sermon not of my own composdtion. He was. further kind enough to offer me what he described as a model discourse then in his possession, the work, as he stated, of an eminent preacher who had given him permission to make use of it. Unfortunately I omitted to inform him of the name of my new cure, bo that he was not aware of any reason why the Rector's sermon should not be used by me. Thus tho unfortunate occurrence happened ; and I hasten Urtake all the blame upon myself, pleadiDg only for that indulgence which v young man in a trying position hus a right to claim.— John Wilby." The curate stopped, and the Rector looked '^"inquiringly at him. "I think that'll do," said the curate. " Anyhow, we can try how Mre. Morrett takes it." The Rector rose and held out his handfoi the paper. " The Magazine comes out on Tuesday," he observed. Mr. Wilby put tho paper behind his baok. "I've been thinking again, Reotor,"said he, "that it will be extremely diffioult to live as a gentleman should live on a hundred and fifty." The Rector frowned. "In fact, impossible," said the curate; and he drew noar to the candles ani held the paper towards the blaze. "You'd bo in luxury on a hundred and sixty," said the Rector, reflectively.

"But I should have no margin for charity." "I — I will make it a hundred and seventy." " I think," said the curate, persuasively, " that you won't stand out on a matter of ten pounds. You might make it a hundred and eighty." The Rector sighed deeply. "I suppose Imight,"saidhe. Whereupon tho curate handed over the paper. It was generally agreed that the Curate's notion was very pardonable, and that it waa moit gratifying to find that the Rector'B facrmons enjoyed as high a repute in the outside world as among his own faithful flock. " Why, I didn't know you ever preached old ones," said Miss Titters to the Rector, with a playful smile. "It was not very old," pleaded the Rector. 1 ' You've never sent it to me yet. Ido so want to copy it, and send the copy to some friends." "I must not let you have it. I don't like seeming to make a display of my sermons." "But," said Miss Titters, in an aggrieved voice, "you let the head of Mr. "YVilby's college have it." "That is— or— different," said theßector. "But what terrible nerves poor Mr. Wilby must have !" ' ' Oh, I think he has really pretty good nerves," said the Rector, with a rather gloomy smile. — St. James' Gazette.