The record-union., 1899-09-10
The new VICAR.

1
never produced either a poet or muir
derer. At last it has become famous
all through our new vicar.
| The old vicar was kind enough to die,
after five and twenty years of persist
ent absenteeism. He left the church in
ruins, the vicarage a desolation, and the
majority of the villagers dissenters.
The living is worth an old song. For
some time we were without a vicar, and
several Sundays saw the church actu-
ally shut up. At last a young priest
took compassion upon us. He had a
small private income-not more than
enough to keep an artisan-but he was
a bachelor, with an Englishman's $
passion for work. He is one of those
young fellows who will vault over q
gate rather than open it. If anything
| wants knocking down, he likes to have
! the knocking of it down. Here, at
CroWsnest, he saw his opportunity; no
big Squire to interfere with him, and
! SOIL to work upon as virgin as that OF
new country. So he took the living.
We soon found there was a man
among us. He put laborer and his
wife in the vicarage to look after him
and keep in order the two rooms he
reserved to himself. In a week these
simple people began to worship him.
Before long all the village children
knew him as a kind of comrade. On
the large green, where football and
cricket are played in their seasons, the
village lads and the young men fol-
lowed his lead as naturally as dogs
follow their masters. Play on the green
was fiat when he was not there.
Socially, he utterly ignored any dis
tinction between the churchmen and
dissenters, making every one feel that
he recognized them as villagers.
as men and women, and not as persons
| bearing sectarian tickets. He soon be-
came the one distinguished personality
in the parish.
But all this would not have made
Crowsnest famous, however much 1t
added to the pleasantneSs Of life there.
The parish had been the black spot,
enthusiastically. in the whole diocese.
Our new vicar set about the task Of
whitening it. He begged of the Bishop.
His bicycle was to be seen at the gates
of all the wealthy people in the parish
that lay around. He wanted money,
and he got it.
| Then he went to work For months
he was as busy as a Prime Minister.
First, he made the church safe. The
ringers had been afraid that the bells
would fall down upon their heads; now
they can ring a merry peal without
risk. Then he made the church decent,
and one by one he added modest dec
! oratlons. There was soon not a Sun
day on which the interior was not
frightened by flowers, the willing gifts
of the delighted parishioners. He
formed q. choir which he trained and
led himself. He begged a decent instru-
ment for his church. Then the
churchyard showed neat paths and
dainty flower beds. The hypnotized
villagers hardly knew where they were.
But this was not all. Like Chaucer's 5
poor parson, he wrought as we'll as
taught; he worked as we'll as. begged.
Much of the repairs and decoration was
the work Of his own hands. He would
throw off his coat and don an apron
and labor with the men, making the
master mechanic deduct the value of
his work from the bill. And many lit
tie jobs he did without hired help.
/
a man, had scarcely conceived of such
a parson.
Was it wonder that the parish be-
came famous? 1t grew to be the talk OF
| the county, and strangers came over
from the neighboring town in fine
weather.
| One day a carriage, containing two
ladies, drove up to the vicarage door.
rs the vicar at home?" asked one
of them.
He's in the village somewhere,
maam,'' answered the woman in
charge.
When will he be home again?''
| There's no telling, ma'am.'
I'VE wish to see the church"
| You'll find it open, ma am. It's al
ways open now, ma am"
So the carriage drove to the church
yard gate and the ladies alighted Not
only was the church open, but man
was busy painting the belfry. After
| inspecting the interior, the ladies-one
of whom was old and the other young
went up to the painter and entered
into conversation with him.
Your church looks neat and pretty"
SAID the younger lady.
Yes, we think so," replied the
painter as he went on with his work.
| Did you know it before it was re-
paired ?"
Yes; it was a picture theni''
1.-The rector must have worked hard
to get so much done in so poor a par
ish''
why shouldn't he work hard? The
other villagers have to work hard
We'll, yes, of course they have. But
the vicar is a gentleman, and"
And the more reason why he should
do his duty"
AS the painter said this, he stopped
painting, raised himself erect, and
looked straight into the lady's eyes,
Il quite agree with you,'' replied the
lady. You working men naturally and
rightly think that a gentleman ought to
work hard. So do I. But gentlemen do
not always work hard.''
1--WE are all apt to neglect those
duties that have nothing directly to do
With food and clothing. Men work hard
to keep the wolf from the door, but
some men neglect the work which does
not feed them"
Quite a village philosopher" said
the elder lady, in an aside to her
daughter.
/ Il wonder whether you would work
so hard if you could live without doing
it?" said the younger lady, with a
smile