children were receiving religious instruction.  “Yes,” I said.  “Are the children taught science?” “Yes,” again.  “Well,” said he, “how do you reconcile the fact, when religion and science are not in agreement?” Fortunately, I had been lately taking a course of Darwin, and I was able to refer him to the concluding lines of the Origin of Species.  We debated the matter with some energy, but having made his protest, the member was satisfied to let the matter drop.

All went well thereafter until we were settled in the new building, and Vicar No. 3 was in possession of the living.  He was young and inexperienced in the conduct of a parish, and was imbued with ideas of what he considered a more ornate and elaborate form of worship.  Innovations followed—­lighted candles over the altar and the appointment of a Server at the Communion Service.  Almost immediately I heard objections from the villagers; they could not understand the necessity for a couple of dim candles in a church on a summer day, when the whole world outside was ablaze with the glory of the sun.

A member arose at a Board meeting, and began:  “Mr. Chairman, I wish to draw the attention of the Board to the question of religious instruction in the school, for I reckon that our children are being taught a lot of Popery.”  I could see that he had been in consultation with other members of the Board, and that he had a majority behind him.  I tried hard to smooth matters over, but they had made up their minds, and he carried his resolution that, in future, the new Vicar should be authorized to enter the school for the purpose of religious instruction only one day a week!  I think this small indulgence was accorded only as a result of my efforts in his favour, though I was by no means pleased with the innovations myself.

I put the matter before the Vicar, asking him if he thought his novelties were worth while in the face of the opposition of the village and the loss of his religious influence with the children.  He would not go back from what, he said, he regarded as a matter of principle, and could not see that he was throwing away a unique opportunity, but he agreed to withdraw the unwelcome Server.

In spite of the fact that every detail of the new school building had been submitted to, and approved by, the Education Department, trouble began with an officious inspector, who on his first visit complained of the ventilation.  An elementary school is never exactly a bed of roses, but we had a lofty building and classrooms, with plenty of windows, which could be adjusted to admit as much or as little fresh air as was requisite.  We protested without result, and we had eventually to pull the new walls about and spend L20 on what we considered an uncalled-for alteration.