Mr.Raymond's predecessor was a kinsman of theirs by marriage, a pluralist, who lived and died at the other end of the Duchy.

He had sent curates from time to time; the last of whom was dead, three years since, of solitude and drink.
But he never came himself, Squire Moyle having threatened to set the dogs on him if ever he set foot in Nannizabuloe; for there had been some dispute over a dowry.

The result was that nobody went to church, though a parson from the next parish held an occasional service.

The people were Wesleyan Methodists or Bryanites.
Each sect had its own chapel in the fishing village of Innis, on the western side of the parish; and the Bryanites a second one, at the cross-roads behind the downs, for the miners and warreners and scattered farmfolk.
_Ding--ding--ding--ding--ding_.
It was Sunday morning, and Taffy was sounding the bell, by a thin rope tied to its clapper.

The heavy bell-rope would be ready next week; but Humility must first contrive a woollen binding for it, to prevent its chafing the ringer's hands.
Out on the towans the rabbits heard the sound, and ran scampering.
Others, farther away, paused in their feeding, and listened with cocked ears.
_Ding--ding--ding_.
Mr.Raymond stood in the belfry at the boy's elbow.