the Mandevillia (which he had planted in a sheltered corner and matted up every winter), the Judas tree, the Pomegranate Choysia, and many more. He had a nursery for young trees, out of which he made presents to friends, together with bags of yellow chesnuts for planting in their gardens. He was skilled in the arts of budding and pruning, although for these and other operations of practical gardening he had, as Bishop, of course very little leisure; but a familiar sight on summer mornings to occupants of the Palace, up to the last year of his life, was the Bishop sallying forth before breakfast, generally bareheaded, with a basin of soapy water to bestow on some favourite rose, or a watering-pot to pour upon his favourite lilac lobelia. On warm summer evenings he would sit on the grass terrace in view of the cathedral until nine, when the great bell tolled the day of the month; and then he would pace awhile under the great sycamores at the end of the broad walk that runs westward from the house, and well pleased was he if he caught a glimpse of the white owl flitting noiselessly across the lawn, or heard the hum of the great stag beetle.

Everything on God's earth had an interest for him-birds, beasts, and insects, as well as flowers, plants, and trees. It might be truly said of him as of the learned king of old: 'He spake of trees, from the cedar tree that is in Lebanon even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall; he spake also of beasts and of fowls, and of creeping things and of fishes.' Mr. Sutton, the present Archdeacon

of Lewes, remembers taking the Bishop for a country drive soon after his appointment to the see. and being startled by his suddenly jumping out of the carriage to pursue a butterfly. And when the diocesan missioner, Mr. Wakeford, was a guest at the Palace, the Bishop was not only anxious to know everything about the moral and spiritual condition of the places that he had just visited, but also everything remarkable that he might have noticed in the gardens of the houses where he had stayed; and any stories that he had picked up illustrative of natural history were carefully noted the herons that had deserted their waters and gone into Kent because some carpenters had been working near their haunts, the owl that was stolen by a workman from Washington Tower and had been brought back from Whitechapel, the great pike that lorded it over other fish in Balcombe pond. He loved to watch the wood pigeons which built in the high trees in his garden and occasionally paced the gravel path outside his study window, and he always noticed the first appearance and chirp or 'chink,' as it has been aptly called, of the 'chiff-chaff' in spring.

The garden abounded with white-throats, water wagtails, and flycatchers, and occasionally a yaffle or green woodpecker made its appearance there. The Bishop was fond of all animals, but especially of his domestic pets, the pug dog Gyp, the fleet Welsh pony which he drove for twenty-three years and used to feed with sugar, but above all his cat, and more particularly one named Dare, a black