he privilege
of knowing such a man, when I was here. I have notes of more than a
score of matters, on which I purposed to ask his good counsel, when we
should meet again. And now it will never be."

"I feel so unworthy to fill his place," he would say. "My only comfort
is in trying to carry out all his plans, and, so far as I can, tread
in his steps."

In this spirit the new Rector followed the old one, even to becoming
an expert gardener. He bought the old furniture of the Rectory.
Altogether, we were spared those rude evidences of change which are
not the least painful parts of such a loss as ours.

With the parishioners, I am convinced, that Mr. Clerke was more
popular than Mr. Andrewes had been. They liked him at first for his
reverence for the memory of a pastor they had loved well. I think he
persuaded them, too, that there never could be another Rector equal to
Mr. Andrewes. But in reality I believe he was himself more acceptable.
He was much less able, but also less eccentric and reserved. He was
nearer to the mental calibre of his flock, and not above entering into
parish gossip after a discreet fashion. He was not less zealous than
his predecessor.

When Aunt Maria came to visit us she gladly renewed acquaintance with
Mr. Clerke, who was a great favourite of hers. I think she imagined
that he was presented to Dacrefield on the strength of her approval.
She used to say to me, "You know Reginald, I always told your father
that Mr. Clerke was a most spiritual preacher." But after seeing him
as Rector of Dacrefield, she added, "He's getting much too 'high.'
Quite like that extraordinary creature you had here before. But it's
always the way with young men."

Uncle Ascott did not publicly undertake Mr. Clerke's defence, but he
told me:

"I don't pretend to understand these matters as Maria does, but I can
tell you I never liked any of our London parsons as I like Clerke.
There's something I respect beyond anything in the feeling he has for
your late Rector. And between ourselves, my dear boy, I rather like a
nicely-conducted service."

So Uncle Ascott and Mr. Clerke were the very best of friends, and my
uncle would go to the Rectory for a quiet smoke, and was always
hospitably received. (Neither my aunt nor my father liked the smell of
tobacco.) Aunt Maria's favour was a little withdrawn. She tried a
delicate remonstrance, but though he was most courteous, it was not to
be mistaken that the Rector of Dacre