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Updated: May 4, 2025
Had parson Wingfold, who did know the Bible as few parsons know it, heard her, he would have told her that, by search express and minute, he had satisfied himself that there was not a word in the Bible against the poor, although a multitude of words against the rich. The sins of the poor are not once mentioned in the Bible, the sins of the rich very often.
"That is what I would say, sir," answered Richard. "We must look at that!" returned Wingfold. "That would be scanned! You would conceive the world as a sort of machine that goes for certain purposes like a clock, for instance, whose duty it is to tell the time of the day? Do I represent you truly?" "So far, sir. Only one machine may have many uses!" "True!
Those who gain no experience are those who shirk the king's highway, for fear of encountering the Duty seated by the roadside." "You ought to be a clergyman yourself, sir," said Wingfold, humbly. "How is it that such as I " Here he checked himself, knowing something of how it was. "I hope I ought to be just what I am, neither more nor less," replied Polwarth.
"It would have been a song after Horace's own heart." "Don't you think," rejoined the curate, "the defiant tone of your song would have been strange to him? I confess that what I find chiefly attractive in Horace is his sad submission to the inevitable." "Sad?" echoed Bascombe. "Don't you think so?" "No. He makes the best of it, and as merrily as he can." "AS HE CAN, I grant you," said Wingfold.
Whether such suggestion was right or wrong, was to Faber not of the smallest consequence: it was in itself a sacrilege, a breaking into the house of life, a causing of that to cease whose very being was its justification. Mrs. Wingfold! she was not fit to sing in the same chorus with her! Juliet was altogether out of sight of her. He had heard Mrs.
Wingfold was seated in the shade of the trees, but Helen, happening to want something for her work, went to him and committed her brother to his care until she should return, whereupon he took her place. Almost the same moment however, he spied Polwarth coming from the little door in the fence, and went to meet him.
"You don't think very badly of my poor brother, do you, Mr. Wingfold?" said Helen, meekly. "It is a terrible fate," he returned. "I think I never saw a lovelier disposition. I do hope his mind will soon be more composed. I think he knows where alone he can find rest.
"I think you must be, George," said Helen. "I never knew you venture so near the edge of poetry before." "Ah, that is all you know of me, Miss Lingard!" returned Bascombe. " And then," he resumed, turning again to Wingfold, "what is it they complain of? That some girls preferred a better man perhaps, or that a penny paper once told the truth of their poetry."
There is no law that sermons shall be the preacher's own, but there is an eternal law against all manner of humbug. Pardon the word." "I will not attempt to thank you," said Wingfold, "but I will do as you tell me. You are the first real friend I have ever had except my brother, who is dead." "Perhaps you have had more friends than you are aware of.
"Certainly. But I can't help thinking you grant him too much, Mr. Wingfold," said the minister seriously. "I never find I lose by giving, even in argument," said the curate. "Faber rides his hobby well, but the brute is a sorry jade. He will find one day she has not a sound joint in her whole body."
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