s like Southey, nor by travellers such as
we were. We had attended morning service. A stranger officiated. His
name was _Bush_, and this is important. A family "riddle" impressed the
name upon me. "Why were we all like Moses to-day?" "We had heard the
word out of a Bush," was the reply. But at the afternoon service I was
deeply impressed. The Rev. M. Bush having read the lessons, came out of
the prayer-desk, and to my amazement and great interest catechised the
children and others.

I thought to myself that the practice was excellent, and felt that if
ever I became a clergyman (of which honour there was very small
probability), I would obey the Prayer Book and catechise. Since then I
have catechised ten, twenty, fifty young people, and not infrequently
five hundred to one thousand, and rarely two to three thousand on a
Sunday afternoon, often, however, much exhausted (having to preach in
the evening) and dreadfully cast down at my own failure in not
catechising better.

Decades rolled on. A lovely effigy of Southey occupied his place in
Crosthwaite Church, and I found myself again amidst the enchanting views
of and about Derwentwater. The morning was wet, but I resolved to go as
soon as it cleared up in order to find "th' ould clerk," and inquire of
him touching the catechising of perhaps forty years ago. I was told that
he had resigned, that he lived still at no very great distance. I think
he was succeeded by his son as clerk. After some trouble I found my aged
friend, and told him that very many years ago I was at the church when
Southey, the poet, was there, and I wanted to know if the catechising
was continued. "There never has been any catechising here," said the
worthy old sacristan. "Forgive me, I heard it myself." "I tell thee
there never was no catechising here. I lived here all these years, and
was clerk for nearly all the time." "I cannot help that," I said; "I am
sure there was catechising in your church on a Sunday when I, a boy, was
here." The old Churchman became testy, and my pertinacity made him
irate, as he thundered out that "never had there been catechising in
that church in all his day." I rose to leave him, telling him that I was
very disappointed, but that I was _confident_ that I did not invent this
story, and, I added, the name of the parson was Bush. "_Bush, Bush,
Bush!_ Well, there was a clergyman of that name come here four Sundays,
many a year ago, when the vicar was from home; and now I c