Thus, nearly all traces of the teaching of that good man disappeared almost as soon as his warning voice had ceased to sound in the ears of his at the time willing hearers. {xii} But how different has been the result in the case of the liturgical teaching and Prayer-Book discipline of the humble Robert Walker! Even in his native valleys, not only a pious remembrance of his character, but a willing obedience to his precepts, still lingers. But especially in his descendants, numerous, and scattered, and often in humble circumstances as they are found to be, it is there that we find,—as we might most expect to find,—the impress of his character, deeply, the author hopes, indelibly impressed; and showing itself in a manner most edifying to the observer, and most confirmatory of the far-seeing wisdom with which our own Church’s system of discipline has been constructed. It has been the author’s good fortune, at different periods of his life, to see, or to hear of-various members of this favoured family, in almost every variety of station to which one single race can well be supposed liable; but the result of his observation has been always the same. Walker’s great-grandson, the Rev. Robert Bamford, Vicar of Bishopton, who first brought this venerable patriarch into notice beyond the boundaries of his native hills, by a sketch of his character in the columns of the _Christian Remembrancer_, (though partial attention had many years previously been drawn to him by some letters in the _Annual Register_) was himself a clergyman of the highest character and promise. One of Walker’s daughters, Mrs. Borrowdale, who became a resident of Liverpool, retained to the last the habits of obedience to the Prayer Book which she had been taught in youth, and attended the daily service of St. Thomas’s in that town, till it finally expired for want of the rubrical number of worshippers. But, by a singular coincidence, the author was brought into contact with this family in a way still more interesting to himself; and gladly would he wish to convey to his readers’ mind that sympathy with his feelings, which is necessary to enter fully into the moral of this little narrative. The author, some years ago, was presented by a friend to a living, and found there as curate one who had married the great-grand-daughter of Robert Walker. Here generations had passed away between the early stock and the last shoot of the tree; yet the connexion between the two was by no means dissevered. The tree might still be known by its fruit! She was one—(we may speak freely of the dead, as they then become the common property of the Church)—she was one whom it was not possible to know and not to love. With the liberal education which a town residence affords, she yet retained much of the freshness of manner and unaffected simplicity of address which belong to the better-educated class of females in a country place, and which win the