unvarying respect and courtesy, that the good man was fairly won over. And when, after a while, his curate suggested that he should like to preach the morning service sometimes, in order that the evening Congregation might have the opportunity of hearing their Vicar, the conquest was quite complete.

Mr. Staunton's power was not manifest in the pulpit alone. It is true that never before had the walls of our Church resounded to an eloquence so chastened and yet so searching; never had the "beauty of holiness been made to appear so desirable and so possible of attainment; and never had our struggles with the difficulties and apparent inconsistencies of revealed religion been grappled with so earnestly and sympathisingly. It was the sort of preaching the Church stands in such sore need of, but now-a-days seems so little likely to get; in which a man of great natural parts and high culture, having felt the true "call," speaks to his fellows as though he really besought them in his Master's stead. It was freshness, individuality, and intense earnestness, come into the place where professional mannerism and milk-and-water orthodoxy had hitherto reigned supreme. But I question whether the personal and social influence of my friend had not wrought as much as his public utterances. The latter had stirred to an unwonted extent the intellectual sensibilities of his congregation, but their chief moral effect came from the man rather than the preacher. For in that short time he had won the confidence and esteem of all, and the affection of very many. People found it impossible to resist the charm of his presence. Of unassuming, frank, and easy manners, he possessed the rare gift of compelling intuitive respect; the purity, kindliness, and self-denial of his daily life seeming to have chiselled themselves on his expressive features. Of men, women, and children he was alike the favourite; but I think he himself loved children most of all. He appeared on intimate terms with every urchin in the parish, and at both Day and Sunday schools was a constant and welcome visitor. That was a notable day in the era of the school cricket club, when our new Curate assumed the captaincy; and Tom Heritage, the monitor, is never tired of describing to a ring of admiring auditors how, in 1876, the coxy "Caxton" first eleven came to repeat, as they thought, their victory of the past two years. "But didn't they just open their eyes when the parson took the ball. Why, he bowled six of 'em himself, and I don't believe they'd have scored half the runs they did, only he gave 'em a lot of chances, because he saw we could lick 'em how we liked. How did he bat? Well, you know, he went in last man but two, and carried out his bat; but, by Jove, couldn't he drive, and couldn't he just place the ball where he liked!" And the narrator, overcome by his recollections, looked through the boys into the faded past.

For some time a variance existed between Mr. Staunton and the Vicar on the subject of dress. The latter prided himself on the correctness of his own costume, and had been accustomed to see his Curates in their Church uniform on all occasions. His surprise may be easily imagined, therefore, on beholding the former at a garden-party, the week

cut.

after his first sermon, in a gentlemanly morning suit of decidedly lay As they walked home together, he seriously remonstrated with him on this departure from the etiquette of clergyhood, maintaining warmly that it tended to lower the dignity of the office, and would certainly cause unpleasant remark.

"I think otherwise," replied his subordinate, quietly, "and am not sorry you have mentioned the subject at once, because I feel strongly upon it, and should like to remove any misapprehension yon may have formed as to my motive. I believe in a Clergyman being dressed in a recognised garb, denoting his official position, whenever he administers the duties of his office either within or without the Church. There is a fitness and propriety about it which I should be the first to maintain. But I cannot see that any good purpose is served by his carrying these badges into private society. They create an artificial barrier between him and his friends, and impart an unnatural odour of professionalism to everything he says and does. If you will excuse the vulgar phrase, it seems like taking the "shop" with one after business hours; and moreover, I always feel as though my clerical outfit bears an unfair weight of social position with it, which might be denied to my merits as a plainly dressed gentleman. Why should men of our profession be on perpetual parade, any more than soldiers, sailors, or even the beadles of our Church?"

It was a sore point with the Vicar for months afterwards, but his Curate carried the point, and came in and out amongst us dressed with the simple good taste of any other refined Englishman, even to the colour of his cravat.

He maintained the same independence of personal conduct in everything, and viewed all social engagements with a healthy naturalness of vision which is sadly too rare. Believing in the possibility of making the best of both worlds, and that man need not attenuate his happiness here, in order to perfect it hereafter, he sympathised keenly with the pleasures and amusements of his friends, as well as with their troubles. Pastoral duties of the more serious kind were never neglected, but he saw no reason for denying himself an attendance at a concert, a day's fishing, a hand at whist, or a game at billiards. Preaching once on the subject of lawful amusements, he startled his hearers by the unaccustomed plainness of his exordium. "I have been frequently asked," he began, "whether it is right for Christian parents to allow their children to share in certain amusements, such as dancing, card-playing, and billiards. I will tell you plainly what I think of the matter. I practice them all myself, and believe them to be a perfectly harmless means of unbending the mind. I would recommend you not only to permit them, but to share in them with your children; for it is in the family circle alone that the true distinction between the use and abuse of these things can be properly enforced. A father, while teaching his son whist, can, at the same time, explain how the abuse begins with playing for money (however insignificant the coin), under the shallow pretext of 'giving a little interest to the game;' and how the seeds of the damn

He may

able and soul-destroying habit of gambling may be thus sown. by erecting a billiard table in his own house, give his boys those opportunities for practising a really fine and scientific game, which they would probably seek, by and bye, in questionable places elsewhere. And, above all, he may shew them that these, and all other amusements, are perniciously misused when they are indulged in to an unreasonable extent, or to the prejudice of the more serious occupations of life. Depend upon it, these mutual confidences between parents and children cannot begin too early, and are the truest safeguards against stealthy and unhallowed practices away from home."

The months rolled on, and increasingly popular did Mr. Staunton become with his congregation. It was his habit to come into my room for a smoke and a chat whenever he was disengaged. Drawn by the

magic of his companionship and example, I had long ago found myself his aide-de-camp in Church work; and from an indifferent and irregular attendant, had become transformed into a zealous and willing worker. Perhaps I, better than any one else, knew how much our Church owed to him; certainly nobody honoured and loved him more.

One evening, how well I remember it !-he showed me a letter he had received, offering him, in very flattering terms, the Incumbency of a large Church in one of the most populous districts of London. I was not surprised, for we could not expect always to retain such a man as simple Curate of St. Francis, but now the chance of his removal had come, I could not help thinking of the terrible loss it would entail on us.

"I congratulate you heartily, Staunton, but I was hoping we might keep you amongst us a little while longer. What are we to do without you?" And I suppose my countenance betrayed some of the blank dismay I felt at the prospect.

"How do you know you will have to do without me?" he asked, smiling, "I haven't said I am going to accept the appointment, and to say the truth, I hope I may not have to do so."

"But surely the decision rests with yourself alone?"

"By no means."

"With whom does it rest then?"

"With Florence Mercier; and I am going up to her father's house now to ask her if I shall go or stay."

(To be continued.)

DEWDROPS.

A FRAGMENT.

Come, let's abroad and breathe the early day
So richly redolent of new-mown hay.

Let us behold the beauties that adorn
The face of nature this sweet summer morn.
See how the dewdrops spangle leaf and flower;
One might imagine that a lustrous shower
Of youngling stars had left the lap of night,
And fell to earth in inadvertent flight;

Or that perchance, when dim-winged eve last led
The dusky hours to their celestial bed,

And while the moon on bright achievements bent A giddy glamour to her lustre lent,

Delighted fairies sought this spot to hold

Their customary revels, uncontrolled.

Here was the banquet spread, perhaps, and these Translucent vessels are the chalices

Wherein a wealth of nectarous drink was stored
To gratify the animated horde

Attendant on Titania, 'neath whose eye
Was celebrated their festivity.

It may be that some prowler of the glade,
Or ugly gnome addicted to the shade,
Or screeching owl affected them with fear
And made the merry people disappear,
Leaving their feastful food untasted here.

See how the cunning spiders have purloined
The sparkling essence-artfully consigned

I would that Oberon had seen their pranks
When last he wandered with his elfin ranks
To hunt the grasshoppers, and put to flight
Some ghostly moths that desecrated night.
Had he but caught these spider-thieves, right well
I wot he would have set himself to quell
Their roguish race, and stormed each citadel
Till every dingy dungeon was laid bare
And its entrapments flung upon the air.

But soft! see yonder where the fluttering trees
Betray the moving presence of the breeze,
That late enamoured of a cooling lake
Swooned on its bosom, and but now awake,
Escapeth hither with a boisterous bound
To shake our shining dewdrops to the ground.
Behold them fall in all their pearly pride
Like morning's glory in a tearful tide;
While thirstful earth the dainty diet drains,
And vital vigour fills her vacant veins.

But what is this?

C.