ate preached in Hebrew or Greek, the
reverent faces would have been respectfully turned towards him, with the
honest conviction that somehow or other the listeners were undergoing a
helpful and uplifting process through what the curate was pleased to say
to them. He was reverenced and beloved, as he well deserved to be, and
was to his people the bearer of good tidings--the messenger of peace.
_He_ was the message to them, through what he was and what he was
striving to be, and not through those painfully-produced sermons.

Now for the morning he had dropped the pastor, and was simply the family
father.

The humble home of the curate was separated from the public road by a
great grass plot, through which a wide walk went straight, without a
curve or a compromise, from the gate to the foot of the high wooden
steps that led to the ever-open door.

The Saturday evening rake-marks were on the loose sand of the path, for
the family had on Sunday, though in their holiday garments, used the
side gate that led to the entrance at the back of the house. The garden
was large and well cared for. Now the weekly weeding was going on, the
father sitting like a general at a distance from the battle, but in
constant communication with the soldiers in full fight in the cause of
order, fruitfulness, and prosperity. The four small boys who were
working so busily were not under strict military discipline, for free
conversation was allowed so long as the hands continued as busy as the
tongues.

The curate sat on a roughly-made but comfortable garden sofa, and was
knitting on a strong stocking in sweet composure. A gay-coloured
parallelogram stared out from the grass beside him; for there, covered
with a patchwork quilt, lay, in a great basket, the baby, the little
girl, the pride of the household, fast asleep. So the curate could not
be said to be exactly idle, though he was taking a delicious morning
rest. His wife meanwhile--a large-hearted, practical woman--was making
all things comfortable in the house, with the help of her efficient
_aide-de-camp_, an orphan girl snatched from the influences of the
poorhouse. Where a specially strong arm was required, the curate himself
was at all times to be relied upon. He was not only a hewer of wood, but
often a bearer of wood as well as of water. He was, too, an embodied
guild of all mechanical trades, and might have been warranted to use
skilfully at a pinch any tools whatever.

The curate ga