early; and behold, he had failed utterly; and seemed farther than
ever from success. He had opened, too hastily, a crusade against the
Dissenters, and denounced where he should have conciliated. He had
overlooked--indeed he hardly knew--the sad truth, that the mere fact
of his being a clergyman was no passport to the hearts of his people.
For the curate who preceded him had been an old man, mean, ignorant,
incapable, remaining there simply because nobody else would have him,
and given to brandy-and-water as much as his flock.

The rector for the last fifteen years, Lord Scoutbush's uncle, was a
cypher. The rector before him had notoriously earned the living by a
marriage with a lady who stood in some questionable relation to Lord
Scoutbush's father, and who had never had a thought above his dinner
and his tithes; and all that the Aberalva fishermen knew of God or
righteousness, they had learnt from the _soi-disant_ disciples of John
Wesley. So Frank Headley had to make up, at starting, the arrears
of half-a-century of base neglect; but instead of doing so, he had
contrived to awaken against himself that dogged hatred of popery which
lies inarticulate and confused, but deep and firm, in the heart of the
English people. Poor fellow! if he made a mistake, he suffered for it.
There was hardly a sadder soul than poor Frank, as he went listlessly
up the village street that afternoon, to his lodging at Captain
Willis's, which he had taken because he preferred living in the
village itself to occupying the comfortable rectory a mile out of
town.

However we cannot set him straight;--after all, every man must perform
that office for himself. So the best thing we can do, as we landed,
naturally, at the pier-head, is to walk up-street after him, and see
what sort of a place Aberalva is.