"He was in the cathedral last Sunday," said the dean.
"Does he ever mean to preach again?"
"He never did preach very often," said the dean.
"A great deal too often, from all that people say," said the archdeacon. "I never heard him myself, and never shall, I dare say. You have heard him, Mr. Crawley?"
"I have never had that good fortune, Mr. Archdeacon. But living as I shall now do, so near to the city, I may perhaps be enabled to attend the cathedral service on some holyday of the Church, which may not require prayers in my own rural parish. I think that the clergy of the diocese should be acquainted with the opinions, and with the voice, and with the very manner and words of their bishop. As things are now done, this is not possible. I could wish that there were occasions on which a bishop might assemble his clergy, and preach to them sermons adapted to their use."
"What do you call a bishop's charge, then?"
"It is usually in the printed form that I have received it," said Mr. Crawley.
"I think we have quite enough of that kind of thing," said the archdeacon.
"He is a man whose conversation is not pleasing to me," Mr. Crawley said to his wife that night.
"Do not judge of him too quickly, Josiah," his wife said. "There is so much of good in him! He is kind, and generous, and I think affectionate."