They themselves were their own favourite native writers; but their morbid
sonnets, their love-lorn elegies, their versified mixtures of passion and a
quasi-religious mysticism, were too sacred for print, though they were
sometimes adapted to thin and fluttering airs, and sung to sympathisers in
private. Most of these gentlemen were "ploughed" in their examination, but
the hero of this sketch secured his degree without honours, and departed to
read for the Church.

Soon afterwards he was ordained, was plunged ruthlessly into an East-End
parish, and disappeared for a time from view. He emerged, after an interval
of several years. The occasion was the inaugural meeting of a Guild for the
Conversion of Music-hall _Artistes_, which is to this day spoken of amongst
the irreverent as the Song and Sermon Society. The sensation of the meeting
was caused by the fervent speech of a clergyman, who announced that he
himself had been for some months a professional Variety Singer, attached to
more than one Music-hall, and that, having studied the life _de près_, he
knew all its temptations, and was therefore qualified to speak from
experience as to the best means of elevating those who pursued it. The
details of his story, as they fell from the mouth of the reverend speaker,
were highly spiced. His hearers were amused, interested, and stirred; and,
when a daily newspaper gave a headlined account of the speech, with a
portrait of the speaker, the professional fortune of the Adulated Clergyman
(for it was he) was assured.

Shortly afterwards his biography appeared in a series published in a weekly
periodical under the title of _Unconventional Clerics_, and he himself
wrote a touching letter on "The Plague Spots of Nova Zembla," in which an
eloquent appeal was made for subscriptions on behalf of the inhabitants of
that chill and neglected region. Ladies now began to say to one another:
"Have you heard Mr. So-and-So preach? Really, not? Oh, you should. He's so