Several weeks passed by, and one day the clerk received a message from his Vicar, “There will be an adult baptism in the service to-morrow.” His feelings can be imagined when he saw quietly standing by the font the gentleman whom he had seen in the cemetery! the defiant, cheery manner gone, but instead of that a peaceful, happy look upon his face. The illness soon progressed, but his friend of olden days visited him continually up to the end, and had the joy of knowing that he died resting happily upon his Saviour. In his will he bequeathed to Mr. Hoare the valuable proof copy of Landseer’s picture “Saved,” as a significant memento of what he had been permitted to do for his old friend. * * * * * The writer once heard it remarked of a certain clergyman that his many curates were like so many sentinels posted over the country to warn people of the danger of approaching him! The exact reverse was the case with Canon Hoare: if any one wished to get an enthusiastic description of the Vicar, they had only to go to one of his past or present curates. He was “a hero to his valets”: so considerate and thoughtful of their wants and circumstances, and yet so vigilant about their work, knowing exactly how it was done, and never failing to notice an omission, yet doing it all so kindly. The quarter’s cheque was always enclosed in an envelope, with a slip of paper on which were written words like these, “With many thanks for all your invaluable help.” This may be a trifling thing, but it means a great deal. Canon Hoare was like a father to his curates, and was beloved by them; he never lost an opportunity of putting them forward, and if need be of standing up in their defence. There are some who remember well an incident at a general meeting of subscribers to the hospital many years ago. Some one present had spoken very wrongly and impertinently of one of the curates, making suggestions of evil in his remarks. At the close of the speeches that followed, the chairman got up. He was watched closely as he slowly took off his overcoat, and with great deliberation folded it up and placed it on the back of his chair. The room was very still as, drawing himself to his full height and looking keenly round the room, he fixed his gaze upon the former speaker, and gave him in words the most terrible castigation that the unfortunate individual ever received in his life. It was well administered, and equally well deserved.