Eventually the
poor wretch did die in penury, but over that part of his story I need
not linger. The irony of fate ordained that when he was actually in
want he should wish to be thought in possession of a large income.
I knew a Clergyman once--at least I had every reason to believe him
to be a lawfully ordained Minister of the Church of England. He was
taken on as temporary Curate in a remote district. His life, while he
remained there, was exemplary. He was untiring in good works; the poor
adored him, the well-to-do honoured him. We all thought him a pattern
of unselfish and almost primitive saintliness, and when he departed
from us he went with a silver inkstand, a dining-room clock and a
purse of sovereigns, subscribed for by the parish. The odour of his
sanctity had scarcely evaporated before we discovered, with horror,
that the man had never been ordained at all! He was an impostor,
masquerading under an assumed name, but while he was with us he did
good and lived a flawless life. These matters puzzle me. Perhaps you,
my dear PLAU, can explain.
Yours, DIOGENES ROBINSON.
* * * * *
A RATHER LARGE ORDER.--Amongst the many suggested plans for housing
the collection of pictures once offered by Mr. TATE to the Nation, is
a scheme for turning the Banqueting-hall at Whitehall to a useful and
good account. As a thoughtful Artist has observed in this connection,
"At this moment the spacious building is tied round the necks of the
Members of the United Service Institution like a white elephant.
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