Riccabocca, indeed, as a stranger, and Mrs.Hazeldean, as a wife, had the quick tact to perceive that the host was glum and the husband snappish; but the one was too discreet, and the other too sensible, to chafe the new sore, whatever it might be, and shortly after breakfast the squire retired into his study, and absented himself from morning service.

In his delightful "Life of Oliver Goldsmith," Mr.Forster takes care to touch our hearts by introducing his hero's excuse for not entering the priesthood.

"He did not feel himself good enough." Thy Vicar of Wakefield, poor Goldsmith, was an excellent substitute for thee; and Dr.Primrose, at least, will be good enough for the world until Miss Jemima's fears are realized.

Now, Squire Hazeldean had a tenderness of conscience much less reasonable than Goldsmith's.

There were occasionally days in which he did not feel good enough--I don't say for a priest, but even for one of the congregation,--"days in which," said the squire in his own blunt way, "as I have never in my life met a worse devil than a devil of a temper, I'll not carry mine into the family pew.