Luard’s duties as Registrary, added to the continuous strain of his historical work, would have been enough for most people; but he never forgot that he was a clergyman, as well as a man of letters, and he took care always to have some active clerical work to do. He was an eloquent preacher, and his sermons in the College Chapel used to be listened to with an interest that we did not always feel in what was said to us from that pulpit. They were plain, practical, persuasive; the compositions of one who was not above his congregation; who had nothing donnish about him, but who spoke to the undergraduates as one who had passed through the same temptations as themselves, and who was, therefore, in a position to show them the right road. On the same principles, for the twenty-seven years during which he was Vicar of Great S. Mary’s, he laboured in the parish in a spirit of true sympathy. There was no fussiness about him; he did not take part in movements; he did not ‘work’ a parish as a modern clergyman does, on the principle of perpetual worry, leaving neither man, nor woman, nor child at peace for a moment; he led his people to better things by gentle measures; he sympathized with their troubles; he relieved their necessities; in a word, he exercised an unbounded influence over them, while refraining from interference in matters of moral indifference. His memory will long be venerated there for active benevolence, and punctual discharge of all that it became him to do. I have heard that the full extent of his charities will never be known. He hated display, and avoided reference to what he was about unless it was necessary to stimulate others by mentioning it; but those who know best tell me that his labours among the poor were unremitting, and that his generosity knew no limits. Nor should it be forgotten, in even the most summary record of Luard’s life at Cambridge, that it was he who got Great S. Mary’s restored in the true sense of the word, by removing the excrescences which the taste, or, rather, want of taste, of the last century had piled up in it. He pulled down the carved work thereof—the hideous ‘Golgotha’—with axes and hammers, and exhibited to an astonished and by no means complacent University the noble church in the unadorned simplicity of its architecture. The restoration of the University Church to something like its ancient arrangement will be an enduring monument of his parochial life.