opinion of the little ones by his absence. The love of children is a good gauge of the truth and tenderness of the heart. The squire of the parish, although inclined at first to give him a wide berth on account of supposed socialistic tendencies, soon fell before the charm of his presence. Earl Grey became his fast friend, and Howick a house in which he was always a pleasant guest. The Archbishop of York found in him not only a friend, but a powerful aid in delivering him from the sufferings inflicted upon him by the bores he was sometime compelled to welcome to his table. At the dinner table Sydney Smith often reigned supreme, and Mr. Reid helps us to understand his power. He was not only a superb talker, but also an attentive listener, and in this respect his bearing in society contrasts favourably with that of many less brilliant men. He believed that brevity was the soul of wit, and a piece of advice which he was fond of giving was, 'Take as many halfminutes as you can get, but never talk more than half a minute without pausing and giving others an opportunity to strike in.' One thing he disliked exceedingly, and that was the half-whispered tones in which so many people speak at feasts as well as at funerals, and he declared that so far as his observation went, most London dinners evaporated in whispers to one's immediate neighbours. In 1814 Sydney Smith took possession of the new rectory at Foston. He was his own architect, and he built himself a house, comfortable enough inside, but not beautiful to the eye of the passer-by. Lady Holland, writing of the removal from Foston fifteen years later, says, 'Our friend Mr. Loch, when he heard of our removal, said to my father, "Are you sure you have left Foston, Mr. Smith?" "Yes." "Never to return?" "Never." Well, then, I may venture to say that it was, without exception, the ugliest house I ever saw!"' The rector was forty-two when he entered and fifty-seven when he left the house he had built, and his life during that time was to act, in his own words, as 'village parson, village doctor, village comforter, village magistrate, and Edinburgh Reviewer.' In the exercise of these multifarious functions his life passed quietly. The building of his house seriously crippled him financially, and for some years he practised a rigid economy. Later on his life was varied by occasional visits to Edinburgh, London, or elsewhere, and by arrivals expected and unexpected of visitors at the 'Rector's Head,' as he sometimes dubbed his house. His interest in the emancipation of the Catholics was very lively, and his views opposed to those held by the vast bulk of his brethren. At Thirsk only two signed his petition on the side of religious liberty, and at Appointed Prebend of Bristol. 123 a great meeting held in York his bold speech converted only one hearer : A poor clergyman whispered to me that he was quite of my way of thinking, but had nine children. I begged he would remain a Protestant.' In connection with this meeting, we have a happy specimen of his letter-writing in a note sent to Mr. Davenport, M. P. Foston, April 20th, 1825. MY DEAR SIR,-In return for my speech at the 'Tiger,' which I sent you last week, pray frank the enclosed letter for me. I slept at the Tiger Inn the night before, and asked the servants of the inn what they thought of the Catholics and Protestants. The chambermaid was decidedly for the Church of England; Boots was for the Catholics. The waiter said he had often (God forgive him) wished them both confounded together. Canon Harcourt, the father of the present Home Secretary, was one of the two clergymen bold enough to sign Sydney Smith's petition, and was also a distinguished geologist. Upon his entering into the married state, and passing his honeymoon in the Lakes, the rector of Foston expressed his views in verse 'Mid rocks and ringlets, specimens and sighs, Of At the close of 1827, by the influence of Lord Lyndhurst, Sydney Smith was appointed a prebend of Bristol Cathedral, and a few weeks later his daughter Emily was married. the latter event he wrote, 'I feel as if I had lost a limb, and were walking about with one leg; but nobody pities this description of invalids.' His Bristol appointment gave him a wider circle of influence, and he speedily exerted it on the side of toleration. In those days it was the custom to celebrate the anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot by a special service at the cathedral, which the mayor and corporation attended in state, and the effects of which they counteracted by a banquet in the evening to which they invited the cathedral clergy. Appointed to preach at the first anniversary after he became connected with Bristol he resolved upon a bold course. 'All sorts of bad theology are preached at the cathedral on that day, and all sorts of bad toasts drunk at the Mansion House. I will do neither the one nor the other;' and so he preached 'an honest sermon,' based upon Colossians iii. 12, 13, on 'Rules of Christian Charity by which our Opinions of other Sects should be formed.' The cause of religious toleration, unpopular enough with the corporation, was helped forward. The sermon was printed, and discussed in the papers far and wide; but from that day, for many years, Bristol Cathedral saw no more of its mayor and corporation. It is curious how often in human life the triumph for which one has long hoped and laboured is darkened by sorrow. In the very midst of the rejoicings over the passing of the Catholic Emancipation Bill Sydney Smith was watching by the dying bed of his son Douglas. He was only twenty-four years of age, and his youth and early manhood had been full of bright promise. Sydney Smith felt the parting as one of the greatest blows that could have fallen upon him. He had always entered with a keen sympathy into the lives of his children, and there is a deep pathos in the inscription that may even now be read over Douglas Smith's tomb in Kensal Green'His life was blameless. His death was the first sorrow he ever occasioned his parents, but that was deep and lasting.' Foston Rectory, recalling in numberless ways the memories of the departed and the bright hopes buried in his grave, had now lost its charm for the bereaved parents, and Lord Lyndhurst arranged an exchange of livings that resulted in Sydney Smith's removal to Combe Florey in Somerset. It was painful to leave the old home, and the parting was made the more difficult by the grief of the villagers and friends of the neighbourhood, but in July, 1829, the move was made. One of the earliest letters written to the north was the following characteristic production Combe Florey, August 13th, 1829. MY DEAR SIR,-I am very sorry to lose so many good friends in Yorkshire. The only acquaintance I have made here is the clerk of the parish, a very sensible man, with great amen-ity of disposition. SYDNEY SMITH. Philip Howard, Esq. The great question of Parliamentary Reform had now reached the burning stage, and in the struggle of the next two years the vicar of Combe Florey took a very influential part. In 1830, on the overthrow of the Wellington Cabinet, Lord Grey came into power and announced as the watchword of his government, 'Peace, Retrenchment, and Reform.' The Church of England then, as now, was against the popular side. It was all the more to Sidney Smith's credit that he, to the no small surprise and indignation of many of his brethren, exerted all his influence on the Liberal side. A skit from his pen describing the reform debates in parliament appeared in the 'Taunton Courier,' May 4, 1831, and closes with these sentiments This brilliant victory over the boroughmongers is of the highest advantage to old England. Like the piratical corsairs of Algiers, they not only robbed the people of their property, but of their liberty and constitutional rights. The good ship Britannia has long been kept on the wrong tack, but, with reform for a pilot, she will put about. steer for free and fair representation, and sail with a fair breeze into the harbour of public prosperity. The House of Lords at that time had the courage of its convictions, and ignominiously kicked out the Bill. Just before this climax, a canonry of St. Paul's becoming vacant, on Lord Grey's recommendation it was given to Sydney Smith, and he thus reached the highest step he was destined to attain on the ladder of ecclesiastical promotion. He was in London on duties connected with his appointment when the Bill was rejected on October 8th, and on the 11th he was in Taunton, at a great meeting held to denounce the conduct of the Lords. He made a speech in which he used the image which has become classical, and which sets forth as well to-day as it did then the true character of the House of Peers. The oft-quoted passage will bear repetition, inasmuch as history repeats itself, and the Upper House has once more verified Sydney Smith's political sagacity. I do not mean to be disrespectful, but the attempt of the Lords to stop the progress of Reform reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In the winter of 1824 there set in a great flood upon that town -the tide rose to an incredible height-the waves rushed in upon the houses, and everything was threatened with destruction. In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door of her house with mop and pattens, trundling her mop, squeezing out the sea-water, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was roused; Mrs Partington's spirit was up; but I need not tell you that the contest was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. She was excellent at a slop or a puddle, but she should not have meddled with a tempest. Gentlemen, be at your ease, be quiet and steady-you will beat Mrs. Partington. The Atlantic has been roused recently. Mrs. Partington has tried, not to drive back the advancing waters, but to divert them into side-channels. But the Ocean of Reform is getting tired of this continual obstruction to its course, and sooner or later hereditary privilege and irresponsible legislation will be things of the past. But we must draw to a close, and we end as we began, by affirming that this book brings us very close to a man who is altogether human, and whose life affords much healthy amusement and much matter for reflection. Time has verified the soundness of many of his judgments, and has not exhausted the pleasure felt in the humour of his sayings and stories. He never used his powers for petty and ignoble ends, and under a seeming jest there often lay a deeper meaning. Calling one day to inquire after the health of Dr. Blake, of Taunton, a radical and a Unitarian, he was greeted with the statement. 'I am far from well. Though I sit by a good fire I cannot keep myself warm.' 'I can cure you, doctor,' said his visitor, as he prepared to go. 'Cover yourself with the Thirty-nine Articles, and you will soon have a delicious glow all over you.' In a presentation copy of his Edinburgh Review' articles he wrote: I printed my reviews to show, if I could, that I had not passed my life merely in making jokes; but that I had made use of what little powers of pleasantry I might be endowed with to discountenance bad, and to encourage liberal and wise principles.' 'Ah, Mr. Smith,' exclaimed a Romish dignitary, you have such a wonderful way of putting things.' On which Mr. Reid comments: Let it be remembered by all who know how to appreciate fearless and disenterested labours for the public good, that Sydney Smith, habitually and without stint, employed his wonderful "way of putting things' to put things right.' When the canon met Macaulay, the 'book in breeches,' as he sometimes described him, the hearers were apt to have a bad time from the simple excess of brilliance. ` 'Oh, yes!' said he on one occasion, we both talk a great deal; but I don't believe Macaulay ever did hear my voice. Sometimes, when I have told a good story, I have thought to myself : "Poor Macaulay! he will be very sorry some day to have missed hearing that." He is reported to have said at one of the breakfasts given by Rogers, 'I wish I could write poetry like you, Rogers, I would write an "Inferno," and I would put Macaulay amongst a number of disputants and gag him!' His last years passed quietly and happily away in congenial London society, in quiet work at Combe Florey, and to the last he maintained his interest in public affairs. He was strongly opposed to the ballot, and thereby illustrated the fallibility of his judgment; he was strongly opposed to the Puseyite movement, and thereby illustrated the soundness of |