I SUPPOSE that you are aware, that, as resident curate, I am entitled to the use of the vicarage-house. During Mrs. Fletcher’s life, I waved my claim in her favour: but after her decease, I applied to the vicar, and now that it has been put into pretty extensive repair, we have taken up our abode in it, and a most holy happy spot we do indeed find it. In the room where I am now writing, some of my older parishioners state, that they have frequently taken their tea with both Mr. and Mrs. F., and well remember the happy seasons they enjoyed. In the room in which we commonly sit, they both of them departed in the Lord. In a third chamber, Mr. F was accustomed to retire for more private and wrestling prayer, and, as we read in his life, the wall of which was stained with his breath while importunately pleading. Another room has the bureau at which he was accustomed to write, and which, with many other things, he left in his will for the use of his successors, that the house might not be the worse for his having had it. In a word, almost every spot and fixture reminds us pleasingly of those exalted characters who have preceded us, and call forth many an earnest prayer, and many a private ejaculation, that those who follow them may drink deeper and deeper into their blessed spirit, and tread more and more closely in their pious and spiritual steps. Dear Mrs. Fletcher once mentioned to us, that one day, shortly after her coming to Madeley, she remarked to Mr. F., as they were entering upon their premises, that she did not know how it was, but that she always felt a measure of divine influence whenever she entered within the gate. The holy man answered that he was not surprised to hear her say so, for that there was not a single brick or a stone in the whole premises which had not been sanctified by prayer. I feel somewhat in the same way with Mrs. F—, and though I am aware that God is everywhere present, and that all spots may equally share in this his glorious presence, yet I cannot but think that some places are privileged beyond others, and though, perhaps, my Honduras friend may smile at his Madeley enthusiast, yet I must frankly confess to you, that I consider it as no small privilege that I dwell in the house, as well as labour in the parish, of one so peculiarly devoted to God. The days I have already spent here have been, without any exception, the happiest I have spent upon earth. Week after week has rolled round in the peaceful enjoyment of the presence of the blessed God. My most painful and laborious duties have been not only easy, but a source of thankfulness and joy far beyond any of my former experience. In a word, I seem to have known some _little_, at least, of what is so beautifully described in one of my favourite hymns:— “Far above all earthly things, While yet my hands are here employed; Sees my soul the King of kings And freely talks with God.”