... We have lost him; he is gone; We know him now; all narrow jealousies Are silent; and we see him as he moved, How modest, kindly, all-accomplished, wise, With what sublime repression of himself, And in what limits, and how tenderly!" My poor boy! my poor boy! I thought he would be over me in my last hour to hear my last confession, and place the sacred oils on my old limbs, and compose me decently for my grave; but it was not to be. _Vale, vale, longum vale!_ There was a letter from the bishop, and a large brown parcel before me when I reached my home. I opened the letter first. It ran thus:-- My dear Father Dan:--The prebendary stall, vacated by the death of the late Canon Jones, I now have much pleasure in offering for your acceptance. I suppose, if the [Greek: to prepon] always had force in this world, you would have been canon for the last twenty or thirty years; but at least it is my privilege now to make compensation; and I sincerely hope I may have the benefit of your wise counsel in the meetings of the Cathedral Chapter. It will also give you a chance of seeing sometimes your young friend, whom I have so suddenly removed; and this will weigh with you in accepting an honor which, if it has come tardily, may it be your privilege to wear for many years I am, my dear Father Dan, Yours in Christ, ---- "Kind, my Lord, always kind and thoughtful," I murmured. Then I cut the strings of the parcel. It contained the rochet, mozzetta, and biretta of a canon, and was a present from some excellent Franciscan nuns, to whom I had been formerly chaplain, and who were charitable enough not to have forgotten me. So there they were at last, the dream of half a lifetime. God help us! what children we are! Old and young, it's all the same. I suppose that is why God so loves us. I took up the dainty purpled and ermined mozzetta. It was soft, and beautiful, and fluffy. I could fold the entire rochet in the palms of my hands, the lace work was so fine and exquisite. I put them down with a sigh. My mind was fully made up. Hannah came in, and took in the situation at a glance. "Did he give 'em to ye at last?" "He did, Hannah. How do you like them?" "'Twas time for him! Lor', they're beautiful!" "Hannah," I said, "have you any camphor or lavender in the house?" She looked at me suspiciously. "I have," she said. "What for? Aren't you going to wear them?" "They are not intended to form the every-day walking-suit of a country parish priest," I replied. "They must be carefully put by for the present." I took my hat and strolled down to see Alice. After telling her all the news, and Father Letheby's triumphs, I said:-- "The bishop wants me to change my name, too!" "_You_ are not going?" she said in alarm.