punctual attendance at the services or frequency of Communion, was not
sufficient. I wanted something deeper. I wanted to reach their hearts in
order to do them good.

Whether this desire sprang up in the ordinary progress by which God was
imperceptibly leading me, or from a story I heard at a clerical meeting,
I know not--perhaps from both. My mind was evidently as ground prepared
to receive the warning. The story was about a dream a clergyman had. He
thought the Judgment day was come, and that there was, as it were, a
great visitation--greater than the Bishop's. The clergy were mustering,
and appeared in their gowns, but instead of being alone, they had part
of their congregations with them. Some had a few followers, others had
more, and some a great many; and ail these received a gracious smile
from the Judge when their names were called. The clergyman who dreamed
was waiting, as he supposed, with a large number of people at his back
When his turn came he went forward; but, as he approached, he saw that
the Judge's countenance was sad and dark. In a sudden impulse of
suspicion he looked back; and lo! there was no one behind him. He
stopped, not daring to go any further, and turning to look at the Judge,
saw that His countenance was full of wrath. This dream had such an
effect upon him that he began to attend to his parish and care for the
souls of his people.

I also was beginning to see that I ought to care for the souls of my
people-at least, as much as I did for the services Of the Church. As a
priest, I had the power (so I thought) to give them absolution; and yet
none, alas! availed themselves of the opportunity. How could they have
forgiveness if they did not come to me? This absolution I believed to be
needful before coming to Holy Communion, and that it was, indeed, the
true preparation for that sacred ordinance. I used to speak privately to