But it was even more by house-to-house visitation than in the pulpit that he made his influence felt. By his absolute unselfishness, his large-hearted sympathy, his deep personal humility, and his genial humour, he found his way sooner or later to every heart, and Dissenters who would denounce him in public as part and parcel of the hated and apostate Establishment, welcomed him in private as their truest counsellor and friend. Over children he exercised almost a fascination; they would follow him along the village street like the Pied Piper, and for each child he would have his sportive nickname or little private joke. Leaving Otley for Acton was one of the greatest trials to his singularly affectionate nature, and to the end of his life Otley and its people were very dear to his heart. But, much as he loved his first parish, he felt that he could not resist the call to a wider sphere of duty. Of his work at Acton, his successful crusade against Sunday cheese-making, and his unflagging work and labour, both spiritual and sanitary, in the fatal cholera year, we have left ourselves no space to speak. We must pass to the last and longest chapter of his life at Brenchley, of which for thirty-four years he was the Vicar. Succeeding the Rev. Richard Davies, the faithful and devoted Secretary of the C.M.S., he accepted as a sacred legacy the furtherance of the claims of that Society. How successfully he pleaded its cause is shown by the fact that in 1886 Brenchley, a rural parish with no resident squire, sent up a larger contribution than the whole of Scotland. The chief proportion of this came from the coppers of missionary boxes, and the proceeds of a missionary basket to which an old servant of the family was “told off.” During his incumbency the growing district of Paddock Wood, and the off-lying hamlet of Matfield, were made into separate parishes. If all parishes had had an Incumbent like the Vicar of Brenchley, we may confidently say that the question of extraordinary tithe would never have arisen. Each defaulter was treated by him as a tenant in arrears with his rent would be treated by an indulgent landlord, and in bad years some remission of tithe was freely granted at a time when such indulgence was unknown, at least in Kent. Nor were the labourers less cared for than the farmers. No man or woman who could show a plausible case of distress was ever sent empty away from the Vicarage, and relief was always, if possible, given in kind or by providing employment. For the hop-pickers who swarmed each autumn from the slums of London one or more Scripture-readers from the London City Mission were always retained; field meetings, magic-lantern entertainments, &c., were got up; pressure was brought to bear on the farmers to supply more decent sleeping accommodation—in a word, they were treated for the time as members of the flock, and, as far as time and opportunity permitted, Christianised. Of his private life this is not