Six,—"Churchwarden's " letter in your issue of July 19th contains
what is a very common fallacy: that a parson's life in the country is less arduous than that of his brother in the town, and therefore he should receive less remuneration. I have a country living which "is worth," as the phrase, goes, somewhat over £800 p.a. I. would joyfully exchange it tomorrow for one worth £5oo in the middle of London, or Bradford, or Newcastle. (The Bishops of London and Southwark could bear me out in this.) No comparison between the two is possible. In the town parish, the parson has many thousands of pefsons to draw on. Less than a tithe of the total number of parishioners would fill his church. He can always find someone to teach in the Sunday school, or maintain his heating apparatus, or run the Scouts. In the country, more often than noi, the parson has to do everything. And, if I may mention spiritual things, the town parson can almost always celebrate a valid Eucharist. In a small country parish, the country parson cannot get even a solitary person on a weekday, and may not even manage it on a Sunday. I say nothing of the lack of intellectual companionship—and I am not being snobby ; every educated person knows what I mean—the isolation, the narrowness, the nastiness of country life.
And a parson's job is net to be measured in organisations' in meetings, in rushing about. " Be still, then, and know that I am God." The Fathers in the desert did as great a work as any. The only right end of man is to worship God and to enjoy Him for ever. It is true, of course, that there is no centralised direction in the Church of England. When I lost my job in the London diocese at the beginning of the war, I was assured by the present Archbishop of Canterbury that I should be found a job there after the war. But there is another Bishop of London now, who knows not Joseph.—I am, Sir, yours, truly, AUSTIN LEE. Claxby Rectory, Lincoln.
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