The Warden | Page 5

had been heard;
but Mr Harding was an open-handed, just-minded man, and feeling that
there might be truth in what had been said, he had, on his instalment,
declared his intention of adding twopence a day to each man's pittance,
making a sum of sixty-two pounds eleven shillings and fourpence,
which he was to pay out of his own pocket. In doing so, however, he
distinctly and repeatedly observed to the men, that though he promised
for himself, he could not promise for his successors, and that the extra
twopence could only be looked on as a gift from himself, and not from
the trust. The bedesmen, however, were most of them older than Mr
Harding, and were quite satisfied with the security on which their extra
income was based.
This munificence on the part of Mr Harding had not been unopposed.
Mr Chadwick had mildly but seriously dissuaded him from it; and his
strong-minded son-in-law, the archdeacon, the man of whom alone Mr
Harding stood in awe, had urgently, nay, vehemently, opposed so
impolitic a concession: but the warden had made known his intention to
the hospital before the archdeacon had been able to interfere, and the
deed was done.

Hiram's Hospital, as the retreat is called, is a picturesque building
enough, and shows the correct taste with which the ecclesiastical
architects of those days were imbued. It stands on the banks of the little
river, which flows nearly round the cathedral close, being on the side
furthest from the town. The London road crosses the river by a pretty
one-arched bridge, and, looking from this bridge, the stranger will see
the windows of the old men's rooms, each pair of windows separated
by a small buttress. A broad gravel walk runs between the building and
the river, which is always trim and cared for; and at the end of the walk,
under the parapet of the approach to the bridge, is a large and
well-worn seat, on which, in mild weather, three or four of Hiram's
bedesmen are sure to be seen seated. Beyond this row of buttresses, and
further from the bridge, and also further from the water which here
suddenly bends, are the pretty oriel windows of Mr Harding's house,
and his well-mown lawn. The entrance to the hospital is from the
London road, and is made through a ponderous gateway under a heavy
stone arch, unnecessary, one would suppose, at any time, for the
protection of twelve old men, but greatly conducive to the good
appearance of Hiram's charity. On passing through this portal, never
closed to anyone from 6 A.M. till 10 P.M., and never open afterwards,
except on application to a huge, intricately hung mediaeval bell, the
handle of which no uninitiated intruder can possibly find, the six doors
of the old men's abodes are seen, and beyond them is a slight iron
screen, through which the more happy portion of the Barchester elite
pass into the Elysium of Mr Harding's dwelling.
Mr Harding is a small man, now verging on sixty years, but bearing
few of the signs of age; his hair is rather grizzled, though not gray; his
eye is very mild, but clear and bright, though the double glasses which
are held swinging from his hand, unless when fixed upon his nose,
show that time has told upon his sight; his hands are delicately white,
and both hands and feet are small; he always wears a black frock coat,
black knee-breeches, and black gaiters, and somewhat scandalises some
of his more hyperclerical brethren by a black neck-handkerchief.
Mr Harding's warmest admirers cannot say that he was ever an
industrious man; the circumstances of his life have not called on him to

be so; and yet he can hardly be called an idler. Since his appointment to
his precentorship, he has published, with all possible additions of
vellum, typography, and gilding, a collection of our ancient church
music, with some correct dissertations on Purcell, Crotch, and Nares.
He has greatly improved the choir of Barchester, which, under his
dominion, now rivals that of any cathedral in England. He has taken
something more than his fair share in the cathedral services, and has
played the violoncello daily to such audiences as he could collect, or,
faute de mieux, to no audience at all.
We must mention one other peculiarity of Mr Harding. As we have
before stated, he has an income of eight hundred a year, and has no
family but his one daughter; and yet he is never quite at ease in money
matters. The vellum and gilding of 'Harding's Church Music' cost more
than any one knows, except the author, the publisher, and the Rev.
Theophilus Grantly, who allows none of his father-in-law's
extravagances to escape him. Then he is generous to