There is another feature of modern rural life too marked to be ignored, and that is the increased activity of the resident clergy.  This energy is exhibited by all alike, irrespective of opinion upon ecclesiastical questions, and concerns an inquiry into the position, of the labourer, because for the most part it is directed towards practical objects.  It shows itself in matters that have no direct bearing upon the Church, but are connected with the everyday life of the people.  It finds work to do outside the precincts of the Church—­beyond the walls of the building.  This work is of a nature that continually increases, and as it extends becomes more laborious.

The parsonage is often an almost ideal presentment of peace and repose.  Trees cluster about it that in summer cast a pleasant shade, and in winter the thick evergreen shrubberies shut out the noisy winds.  Upon the one side the green meadows go down to the brook, upon the other the cornfields stretch away to the hills.  Footpaths lead out into the wheat and beside the hedge, where the wild flowers bloom—­flowers to be lovingly studied, food for many a day-dream.  The village is out of sight in the hollow—­all is quiet and still, save for the song of the lark that drops from the sky.  The house is old, very old; the tiles dull coloured, the walls grey, the calm dignity of age clings to it.

A place surely this for reverie—­the abode of thought.  But the man within is busy—­full of action.  The edge of the great questions of the day has reached the village, and he must be up and doing.  He does not, indeed, lift the latch of the cottage or the farmhouse door indiscreetly—­not unless aware that his presence will not be resented.  He is anxious to avoid irritating individual susceptibilities.  But wherever people are gathered together, be it for sport or be it in earnest, wherever a man may go in open day, thither he goes, and with a set purpose beforehand makes it felt that he is there.  He does not remain a passive spectator in the background, but comes as prominently to the front as is compatible with due courtesy.

When the cloth is cleared at the ordinary in the market town, and the farmers proceed to the business of their club, or chamber, he appears in the doorway, and quietly takes a seat not far from the chair.  If the discussion be purely technical he says nothing; if it touch, as it frequently does, upon social topics, such as those that arise out of education, of the labour question, of the position of the farmer apart from the mere ploughing and sowing, then he delivers his opinion.  When the local agricultural exhibition is proceeding and the annual dinner is held he sits at the social board, and presently makes his speech.  The village benefit club holds its fete—­he is there too, perhaps presiding at the dinner, and addresses the assembled men.  He takes part in the organisation of the cottage flower show; exerts himself earnestly about the allotments and the winter coal club, and endeavours to provide the younger people with amusements that do not lead to evil—­supporting cricket and such games as may be played apart from gambling and liquor.