his back on the congregation, and, so far as I could gather from the Colonel’s description, conducted this “second service” very much as a conjuror performs his tricks.  When I ventured to argue with the Colonel, he said to me:  “That is the worst of you High Churchmen, you make the ritual more important than the Communion itself.”  All human judgments, my dear Mark, are relative, and I have no doubt that this unpleasant young man (who, as I have already said, was no doubt justly punished by Father Rowley) may have felt the same kind of feeling in a different degree that I should feel if I assisted at the jugglery of the Reverend Archibald Tait.  At any rate you, my dear boy, are bound to credit this young man with as much sincerity as yourself, otherwise you commit a sin against charity.  You must acquire at least as much toleration for the Ritualist as I am glad to notice you are acquiring for the thief.  When you are a priest yourself, and in a comparatively short time you will be a priest, I do hope you won’t, without his experience, try to imitate Father Rowley too closely in his summary treatment of what I have already I hope made myself quite clear in believing to be in this case a most insufferable young man.  Don’t misunderstand this letter.  I have such great hopes of you in the stormy days to come, and the stormy days are coming, that I should feel I was wrong if I didn’t warn you of your attitude towards the merest trifles, for I shall always judge you and your conduct by standards that I should be very cautious of setting for most of my penitents.

     Your ever affectionate,

     Stephen Ogilvie.

     My mother and Miriam send you much love.  We miss you greatly at
     Wych.  Esther seems happy in her convent and will soon be clothed as
     a novice.

When Mark read this letter, he was prompt to admit himself in the wrong; but he could not bear the least implied criticism of Father Rowley.

     St. Agnes’ House,

     Keppel Street,

     Chatsea.

     Dec. 3.

     My dear Mr. Ogilvie,

I’m afraid I must have expressed myself very badly in my last letter if I gave you the least idea that Father Rowley was not always charity personified.  He had probably come to the conclusion that the young man was not much good and no doubt he deliberately made it impossible for him to stay on at the Mission House.  We do get an awful lot of mere loafers here; I don’t suppose that anybody who keeps open house can avoid getting them.  After all, if the young man had been worth anything he would have realized that he had made a fool of himself and by the way he took his snubbing have re-established himself.  What he actually did was to sulk and clear out with a sneer at the work done here.  I’m sorry I gave you the impression that I was triumphing so tremendously over his discomfiture.  By writing about it I probably made the incident appear