Spyke, too, is in every way a well made-up man, being extremely tall and lean of figure, with nice Saxon hair and whiskers, mild but thoughtful blue eyes, an anxious expression of countenance, a thin, squeaking voice, and features sufficiently delicate and regular for his calling.  His dress, too, is always exactly clerical.  If he be cold and pedantic in his manner, the fault must be set down to the errors of the profession, rather than to any natural inclination of his own.  But what is singular of Brother Spyke is, that, notwithstanding his passion for delving the heathen world, and dragging into Christian light and love the benighted wretches there found, he has never in his life given a thought for that heathen world at his own door-a heathen world sinking in the blackest pool of misery and death, in the very heart of an opulent city, over which it hurls its seething pestilence, and scoffs at the commands of high heaven.  No, he never thought of that Babylon of vice and crime-that heathen world pleading with open jaws at his own door.  He had no thought for how much money might be saved, and how much more good done, did he but turn his eyes, go into this dark world (the Points) pleading at his feet, nerve himself to action, and lend a strong hand to help drag off the film of its degradation.  In addition to this, Brother Spyke was sharp enough to discover the fact that a country parson does not enjoy the most enviable situation.  A country parson must put up with the smallest salary; he must preach the very best of sermons; he must flatter and flirt with all the marriageable ladies of his church; he must consult the tastes, but offend none of the old ladies; he must submit to have the sermon he strained his brain to make perfect, torn to pieces by a dozen wise old women, who claim the right of carrying the church on their shoulders; he must have dictated to him what sort of dame he may take for wife;—­in a word, he must bear meekly a deal of pestering and starvation, or be in bad odor with the senior members of the sewing circle.  Duly appreciating all these difficulties, Brother Spyke chose a mission to Antioch, where the field of his labors would be wide, and the gates not open to restraints.  And though he could not define the exact character of his mission to Antioch, he so worked upon the sympathies of the credulous old lady, as to well-nigh create in her mind a resolve to give the amount she had struggled to get and set apart for the benefit of those two institutions ("the Tract Society,” and “The Home of the Foreign Missions"), all to the getting himself off to Antioch.

CHAPTER XXI.

Mr. Snivel pursues his search for the vote-cribber.