In spite of my anxiety, therefore, I could scarcely suppress a smile, and I was glad to observe, as I glanced at my father, that he was once more in complete command both of himself and the situation. Indeed I had never heard him in such stupendous voice as during the hymn that preceded the sermon, and it was obvious that the vicar conceived this to be the prelude to the actual deliverance of the indictment. It was at any rate some moments before he was able to speak, and I have never, I think, heard a more pitiable noise than the quavering tones in which he uttered the words of Jeremiah, “Mine heritage is unto me as a speckled bird.”[9] Footnote 9: Jeremiah xii. 9. Spoken by the prophet, he said, under conditions of considerable stress—and who had known more stress than the prophet Jeremiah?—it might also be rendered, as the margin so beautifully reminded us, as a bird having talons. Mine heritage is unto me as a bird having talons—here he paused for a moment, avoiding my father’s eye—or might he not say, perhaps, using the plural, _our_ heritage is a bird having talons? For in this great gift, this unique gift, that few of us could have failed, he thought, to have noticed, we were all participators, even the most degraded of us, thanks to the generosity of Mr. Carkeek. Yes, it was indeed _our_ heritage, _ours_, a speckled bird, a bird having talons. And who could say that the care-stricken prophet had not foreseen this beautiful lectern? For it was a beautiful lectern—few, he thought, could deny this—this speckled bird, this bird having talons. And yet it might well be that, owing to its very unexpectedness, it should give rise to differing opinions. Nay, he would go further. He would hope that it might, for they were all there, he trowed, in a double capacity—as human beings, overflowing with gratitude, but also as trustees for the church’s furniture.