Mr.Kemp was enjoying the luxury, although it would have been nauseous in other circumstances; for the prison fare is so insipid that even a dose of medicine is an agreeable change.

Now Parson Plaford and Mr.Kemp are about the same height, and lest the chaplain should see or smell the tobacco, the little blasphemer was obliged to turn his head aside, hoping the conversation would soon end.

But the little parson happened to be in a loquacious mood, and the interview was painfully prolonged.

Next Sunday there was a withering sermon on "infidels," who were described as miserable persons that "dare not look you in the face." Parson Plaford seemed to be on very intimate terms with his maker.

If his little finger ached, the Lord meant something by it.