with calm and Christian resignation better paid places when they had a fair opportunity of getting them.  We are not going to say very much about Cannon Parr, and let nobody suppose that we shall make an effort to tear a passion to tatters regarding any of his peculiarities.  Canon Parr is an easy-going, genial, educated man kindly disposed towards good living, not blessed with over much money, fond of wearing a billycock, and strongly in love with a cloak.  He has seen much of the world, is shrewd, has a long head, has both studied and travelled for his learning, and is the smartest man Preston Protestants could have to defend their cause.  But he has a certain amount of narrowness in his mental vision, and, like the bulk of parsons, can see his own way best.  He has a strong temper within him, and he can redden up beautifully all over when his equanimity is disturbed.  If you tread upon his ecclesiastical bunions he will give you either a dark mooner or an eye opener—­we use these classical terms in a figurative sense.  He will keep quiet so long as you do; but if you make an antagonistic move be will punish you if possible.  He can wield a clever pen; his style is cogent, scholarly, and, unless overburdened with temper, dignified.  He can fling the shafts of satire or distil the balm of pathos; can be bitter, saucy, and aggravating; can say a hard thing in a cutting style; and if he does not go to the bone it’s no fault of his.  He can also tone down his language to a point of elegance and tenderness; can express a good thing excellently, and utter a fine sentiment well.  His speaking is modelled after a good style; but it is inferior to his writing.  In the pulpit he expresses himself easily, often fervently, never rantingly.  The pulpit of the Parish Church will stand for ever before he upsets it, and he will never approach that altitude of polemical phrenitis which will induce him to smash any part of it.  His pulpit language is invariably well chosen; some of his subjects may be rather commonplace or inappropriate, but the words thrown into their exposition are up to the mark.  He seldom falters; he has never above one, “and now, finally, brethren,” in his concluding remarks; he invariably gives over when he has done—­a plan which John Wesley once said many parsons neglected to observe; and his congregation, whether they have been awake or fast asleep, generally go away satisfied.  Canon Parr has been at our Parish Church nine and twenty years, and although we don’t subscribe to his ecclesiastical creed, we believe he has done good in his time.  He is largely respected; he would have been more respected if he had been less exacting towards Dissenters, and less violent in his hatred of Catholics.  Neither his Church-rate nor Easter Due escapade improved his position; and some of his fierce anti-Popery denunciations did not increase his circle of friends.  But these things have gone by, and let them be forgotten.  In private life Canon Parr is essentially social: