Square, as an instance-one out of many which now-a-days happily occur-of the recognition, on the part of the rich, of worshipping GOD with their substance.

Our readers will many of them have heard, ere this, of the novel subjects which are (perchance) henceforth to occupy the attention of the House of Commons. Mr. Horsman thinks that that august body has not enough to do to manage the affairs of the country, and therefore has demanded its interference in matters ecclesiastical. Mr. Bennett is therefore dragged before the House-the House of Commons-whose members are, for the most part, not members of our Church. He has no possibility of defending himself at its bar, and if he had, he would not appeal to Cæsar on the things of GOD. An usher at Kissingen listens-no, he does not listen, but he overhears conversations-the walls are so thin, and the voice of Sir J. Harrington so loud, he could not help it; he overhears conversations in which the word Rome occurs, and forthwith a hundred fearful visions haunt his brain. It is thus that the cause of party is furthered; truth demands no such means. We are perhaps writing strongly, for we think strongly, as never shall we forget the day when we took part in the glorious services at S. Barnabas'; or that last sad day, when rich and poor knelt around the altar, to take at his hands the Holy Eucharist, that last sad day, when tears, and not words, were our farewell to one who had done valiant service for the Church of GOD. Then we saw how he lived in the hearts of the people, and now we have proof again that such is the case in his present sphere. Attacks of this kind further the cause they are intended to damage. It is so in the present case. A brief but touching memorial of sympathy, signed by more than one thousand of Mr. Bennett's hearers, has been presented to him, and may serve as an answer to the miserable slanders heaped upon his devoted head. Pray we GOD to give him grace to stand fast, and having done all, to stand firm and unwavering in that faith, of which Ken's tomb will ever remind him, and long preserve him to the Church of England. The government has promised an inquiry; we look anxiously for the results, as we think that it may be dashed upon a rock, far more dangerous than any breakers it sees a-head, if it meddles with things it does not understand. By the way, we thank Mr. Horsman for one admission. It is, he allows, required of a Bishop, by the Canons of the Church, to examine a Priest presented for institution. This being the case, we hope we shall hear no more of the Bishop of Exeter having exceeded his duty in a certain memorable and lamentable

case.

"A parcel of books, Mr. Editor," exclaims our youthful

clerical friend, interrupting the course of our meditations, "I am so glad to see the superscription, as I wish you would give us a little more gossip about books than you have lately done."

66

Not the slightest objection," is of course the rejoinder; only one can't notice them by intuition; so open the parcel and let us see."

Our Doctor. By the author of Tales of Kirkbeck.-This is a favourite, as it could not but be from the authoress of Kirkbeck. The brief preface by the editor, in our mind, sufficiently meets an objection which has been raised against the character of the Tales in these volumes, viz., their somewhat melancholy character. The reason alleged by Mr. Bennett will be felt to be the true one, by every parish Priest of any experience. The following is, to our mind, one of the most admirable in the book.

"JOE STAVELEY.

"Every country village has, or ought to have its Jack of all trades,' one of those useful people, who having no special vocation` of their own, seem to have adopted that of every one else, and to do everything that does not come handy' to other people. Such a person has long been known and prized in Kirkbeck under the name of Joe Staveley.

"Joe is, (as such individuals by established rule should be,) a bachelor-a slight and rather small-made man, with dextrous quick-moving hands and feet; a slender rather long neck, which seems to have some peculiar power of turning every way at once small shrewd light-coloured eyes, which apparently see all around him-a rather delicate and well-shaped nose and mouth-the latter somewhat overstocked with white teeth, which give a general character of good humour to the whole face, which is completed by a high forehead quite bald at the top and fringed at the sides, with thick stiff grizzled hair. Add a light brown velveteen frock coat and loose trowsers, a red waistcoat, a black silk handkerchief, very loosely knotted round his neck, and a low grey cap, (Sunday is the only day graced with a hat,) and you have a tolerably literal portrait of Joe Staveley's exterior man. It could not be quite so easy to describe the interior. Perhaps the prominent and most noticeable feature in that is a more than ordinary share of benevolence and kindness of heart, which makes him universally interested in every one's affairs; a quality which in spite of some tendency to degenerate into busy-body-ness and gossipry, is so genuine in sincerity and practical results in Joe, that no one can find fault with it. Joe is always cheerful-be has had his cares, and felt them too, for his heart is warm and sensitive, but a naturally buoyant and contented spirit, has by God's grace enabled him lightly to leap over sorrow, and habits of ceaseless occupation, together with a most firm and unvarying conviction that all GOD does is right, have always prevented care from weighing him down long. I am not sure that a better summary of Joe's character

could be found than S. Paul's description of charity-he certainly is one of those very few who think no evil'-for whatever his neighbours may be doing, have done, or be about to do, Joe is sure to put the most favourable construction on their actions that ingenuity can devise; and it is quite established in the village that his must be a poor case indeed, for whom Joe has nothing but a shake of the head, and an Ah, poor fellow! may be if ane knew a' he's not so much to blame as it looks!'

"Probably no one has ever heard Joe speak ill of any one; indeed I believe he speaks regretfully even of Napoleon Bonaparte, who is his beau ideal of wickedness; and as to bearing all things, few could more literally have fulfilled the precept of giving good things in return for evil things, than he did in his early life. Joe never was a man to talk much about religion-his was a religion rather of thoughts and deeds than of words, but it bore those fruits by which the tree is to be known.

"Such was the man, who, after a fashion of his own, pretty well ruled our village. It would be hard to define the multifarious offices which he undertook, in addition to being the universal confidant, counsellor, and sympathiser. He physicked everybody's dogs, cats, birds, poultry, and cattle, and even occasionally trespassed on Dr. Martin's province with certain nostrums-herb teas, wonderful ointments, and plaisters of his own manufacture and administration. If Joe could have offended any one, he would have mortally offended Sir John Elter's first-rate London cook by fulfilling the request of that experienced artist's master, who wished Joe to initiate her into his arts of baking the lightest bread, boiling the mealiest potatoes, and frying the most matchless bacon! He could mend a boot or a shoe as well as the village cobbler ;-put a patch or a button on a coat as well as the tailor; handle a plane or a hammer as well as the carpenter, and shoe a horse a great deal better than the blacksmith. Joe's garden was one of his great hobbies, but he had also a large field of scientific occupation, probably the result of a few years spent in his early life with a certain professor-nominally a geologist, but in fact a very mine of every conceivable intellectual and scientific attainment. I think Joe must have been something like his master from the descriptions I have heard of the superior man of science: with one exception, that Joe was rather proud of his attainments, and apt to make a little display thereof; whereas the professor's selfconceit was decidedly in the inverse ratio to his knowledge. A barometer, thermometer, and rain gauge ;-a few fossils and minerals, some books on geology, meteorology, and similar subjects; and a considerable stock of rather bold theories with regard to each, formed Joe's stock in hand of science, and many a time he made Mr. Browne the worthy fat miller, the old clerk, and even the schoolmaster himself, gape with admiration at his profound knowledge on some such topic. But great as was the favour with which all ages looked upon Joe, he was above all the intimate friend and ally of every child in the parish, from Molly Grimes' shy crying baby, who could be stilled by Joe's dandling better than anybody else's, to the boys and girls who ran to tell him before anybody of their first

engagement to service, with a large intermediate number of small people who really loved him as much for himself as for his toffy and gingerbread and gooseberries, which were liberally bestowed upon all whom he considered deserving.

6

"A general impression prevailed among Joe's neighbours that he was (comparatively speaking) a rich man. This arose from his great liberality, and the readiness of his gifts to all around him; but it was not really the case. Joe was one of those poor men who yet have great riches;' because he had a contented and a liberal spirit, but in reality he had no more than just enough to supply his needs, which were not many. A very small pension from his old master was all his regular provision, and although after a fashion of his own Joe exercised so many trades, they were all for love and none for gain. But his wants were few, and he never counted himself poor.

"The time came however when even Joe could not help wishing for a little greater wealth, but that was not for himself.

"One December day the post brought Joe a letter from a brother several years younger than himself, who had always been wild and caused trouble and anxiety in his family. Henry Staveley had gone to America while quite a young man, and after his return had settled in Manchester, where getting involved with a set of political agitators, his conduct had been so unsatisfactory that gradually all intercourse with his brother, (the only remaining member of the family, ceased; for though Joe was not a man to give up a brother because he went astray, Henry Staveley had little pleasure in communication with Joe, whom he considered as a terribly prosy, old-fashioned sort of person. But when poverty and sickness came upon him, he saw things in a different light, and began rather to look back with tenderness and longing upon early days, and his father's home. For some time he hesitated and paused; pride making him reluctant to apply to Joe in spite of his undoubted kindness and gentleness of disposition. But he had one strong impulse, and that was a little daughter, orphaned practically, though not literally, for the mother, one of the utterly irreligious set with which Henry Staveley had joined himself, had forsaken both husband and child. For this little one's sake the poor father conquered his pride, and wrote to his brother in short, but earnest words that told how great his distress was better than the most graphic description would have done.

"Joe was very busy trying to mend his favourite Dutch clock, which had got out of order, when the postmaster's son appeared with the letter. He was not accustomed to any very extensive correspondence, and this arrival was sufficient to make him look up from his otherwise absorbing occupation with considerable interest.

"Eh what? a letter for me, lad. Gie 't us here. Stop a bitNip, hold o' yon wheel a minute, will ye? Bide still wi' it, lad, if ye can, it's neat holdin' is yon. Now let's look to t' letter.Eh what! if 'tisn't Harry's scriftin! What's he after now? No comin' here to give ony o' his what d'ye call 'em Socialist lectures, I hope! It's like plenty for me to hear Muster Mordaunt preach-I don't want to hear no Manchester men! Eh what! it's no that

either! 'Very bad'' doctor says not likely to mend !'

dear brother,'' little daughter Lucy'-Eh what! but this is a baddish set to! Poor Harry, I maun gang to him, and see arter him

I say, laddie, ye needna' mind hauding yon wheel nae langer. I cannat mind t' clock now. There's wheels that matters more nor yon amiss, and I maun see what I can do wi' em. Easier to patch up t' owld clock than a man that's goin' doon. Eh, to be sure to be sure.'

"And in such soliloquizing talk, Joe spent a short hour which sufficed to set his small house in order, and to put a few things in a bundle, with which, and the little money he had, Joe prepared to start for Manchester. A visit to the Vicarage, in order to inform Mr. Mordaunt of his journey, completed Joe's preparations, and he was soon in the coach which would convey him to the nearest point at which he could join a railway. No time was lost certainly, but Joe only arrived in time to see his brother die, his bodily sufferings exceeded by mental pangs, as when all too late he found that the one thing which would have smoothed his dying bed, had been neglected, and knew not how or where to seek for rest.

"When Joe returned to Kirkbeck, which he did as speedily as was possible, he was accompanied by his little niece Lucy, a remarkably small delicate looking child, who at six years had limbs proportionate to one half the age, and with her large blue eyes, and silky flaxen hair, neatly knotted behind, looked a curious mixture of baby and premature old woman. Joe was obliged to give some consideration as to how he should maintain even this little girl, and came to the conclusion that he must endeavour to find some occupation that would help out his 'small funds; but his habits were so desultory, that every attempt at any regular employment failed, and at last he only did odd jobs,' receiving such payment as might be convenient to the employer. One great delight and occupation was in teaching little Lucy, whose mind was by no means on so small a scale as her body, and who proved a very apt scholar to all the somewhat promiscuous instruction bestowed upon her. Before her father's death, no thought of religion had ever been instilled into the child's mind, and to implant and foster the knowledge of GOD and love for Him was Joe's earliest and most eager object. In this all his own love of nature assisted greatly, and by the time Lucy was ten, the good old man had the happiness of seeing his new vocation of rearing the little girl as successful as his former attempts at rearing rare plants, birds, and animals.

"Lucy was quite unlike a child however, she never played or ran about, but sat like an old woman in the corner of Joe's small kitchen at her sewing, or taking a share in some of his many so-called scientific pursuits. They were as happy as two people could be, and Joe never had any reason to repent his kindness to his little orphan niece.

"One of the employments by which Joe occasionally increased his weekly fund, was that of guide to a chance stranger, who might wish to cross the hills, which are often difficult to one unaccustomed to them, and beset with perplexities in the form of bogs, mists, and so