accomplished, and so full of reward for it all, my great satisfaction was in the congratulations which I heard on all sides, during the day, not so much to myself, but to themselves, by Churchpeople; "Our Church, our work,—what a grand day we have had." This is, indeed, "a crown of rejoicing," for it is their work, the work of many,—not a few rich donors, or of large legacies or endowments, but of people, who, in a new land, have to build up their Church, support its ministry, enable it to pay its way, and do its appointed work. "Wouldn't you like to hear that someone has left a large sum for the completion of St. Mary's?" said a man to me, "as one hears is often done in the old world." "No," I said, "I would much rather—if we do ever complete it, see it done by St. Mary's people, for if they do it, I shall be sure they love their Church."
The day following the Consecration was a specimen of the climate here, which I believe some American has described as "a climate of samples." August is equivalent to the English February, but generally milder. We woke to a white world, snow several inches deep. Going down to the 10 a.m. service, we found the choir boys building a snow man in the Church grounds, and the roofs of the building, as if for its baptism, snow clad.
Nearly three years of hard work since the consecration of the church; single-handed work, for we are not yet in a position to maintain a curate; and, with the additional places of worship, at Kingsdown, six miles distant, and near Beaconsfield in a schoolroom. Some day these may form part of a separate parish;
