He had daily service in his church, generally by himself, when he prayed
for the people. "I did not want them there." he said. "God hears me; and
they know when I am praying for them, for I ring the bell."

He had much influence in his parish, chiefly amongst the poor, and
declared that his people did whatever he told them. They used to bring a
bunch of flowers or evergreens every Sunday morning, and set them up in
their pew ends, where a proper place was made to hold them. The whole
church was seated with carved oak benches, which he had bought from time
to time from other churches, when they were re-pewed with "deal boxes!"

On the Sunday, I was asked to help him in the service, and for this
purpose was arrayed in an alb, plain, which was just like a cassock in
white linen. As I walked about in this garb, I asked a friend, "How do
you like it?" In an instant I was pounced upon, and grasped sternly on
the arm by the Vicar. "'Like' has nothing to do with it; is it right?"
He himself wore over his alb a chasuble, which was amber on one side and
green on the other, and was turned to suit the Church seasons; also a
pair of crimson-colored gloves, which, he contended, were the proper
sacrificial colour for a priest.

I had very little to do in the service but to witness his proceedings,
which I observed with great attention, and even admiration. His
preaching struck me very much; he used to select the subject of his
sermon from the Gospel of the day all through the year. This happened to
be "Good Samaritan Sunday," so we had a discourse upon the "certain man
who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho," in which he told us that "the
poor wounded man was Adam's race; the priest who went by was the
Patriarchal dispensation; the Levite, the Mosaic; and the good Samaritan
represented Christ; the inn was the Church; and the twopence, the