I occasionally preached in the parish church, and went to the daily Communion and the daily service.  My spare time I occupied (it was like going back to brick-making in Egypt) in painting the church.  I laboured for hours and hours to try and make this great chalk-pit of a place look somewhat ecclesiastical.  All round the church I painted a diaper pattern, surmounted with a border, which went over the doors and under the windows.  Then on the bare wall at the end I painted a life-sized figure of our Lord, as a Shepherd leading His sheep, taken from Overbeck’s picture.  This, together with a few other pictures of Christ, warmed up the building very well.  Then for the chancel I had a most elaborate design.

First, there was a beautiful gilded pattern over the very lofty chancel arch, which I managed to reach by means of a ladder.  Professional people need scaffolding and platforms, which I dispensed with, and accomplished the whole space in less time than it would take to put up all their needful erections.  Inside the chancel I had twelve niches, with tabernacle work above them, for the twelve apostles; and these were all duly represented after a true mediaeval pattern.

The local newspaper made great fun of these paintings; and the reporter would have it, that “these lively saints looked very conscious of being put up there, and that they were constantly ‘craning’ their necks to look at one another—­as if they would inquire, ’I say, how do you like being there?’” My favourite figure, St. John, upon which I bestowed extra pains, the provoking man would have it, was St. Mary Magdalene, leering at the apostle next to her, or at the one opposite—­it did not seem quite clear to him which; but her head was down on one side in a bewitching attitude.

In the middle of the great undertaking I was called away for a few weeks.  During this time the reporter came again and again, but saw no progress; he therefore put an advertisement into his paper to this effect:—­

“Stolen or strayed, a monkish priest, who paints apostles.  He is not to be found.  Any person or persons who can give information concerning this absent personage, will greatly oblige.”

My preaching was not acceptable in this church, neither was my connection with it; and my apostles were no better appreciated, for they were soon after whitewashed over, and disappeared like a dream.  Sometimes, in damp weather, they were still to be seen “craning” their necks as heretofore (much to the amusement of the chorister boys) though with a kind of veil upon them.  Doubtless, in a future generation, when the plaster begins to blister, some antiquarian will discover this “wonderful mediaeval fresco,” and call the attention of the public to it.