The first curate of Alfington was Judge Coleridge’s son Henry, the well-known author of the beautiful Life of St. Francis Xavier.  On his leaving our communion, it was his father’s wish that Coleridge Patteson should take the cure; and, until his ordination, it was committed temporarily to other hands, in especial to the Rev. Henry Gardiner, who was much beloved there.  In the spring of 1853, he had a long and dangerous illness, when Coley came to nurse him, and became so much attached to him, that his influence and unconscious training became of great importance.  The church was served by such clerical friends as could give their assistance on Sunday, and the pastoral care, attention to the school, cottage visiting, &c., became the employment of the candidate for Holy Orders, who thus began his work under the direction of his disabled friend.

A letter to his sister shows how he plunged into the drudgery of the parish, doing that which always cost him most, namely, administering rebukes; so that it was no wonder that he wrote with a sort of elation at having lashed himself up to the point of giving a thorough warning:—­

’Feniton:  July 19, 1853.

’My dearest Fan,—­I am going to Thorverton to-day to stay till Thursday.  Gardiner came downstairs on Sunday, and again yesterday, and is making very rapid strides towards perfect recovery.  He even went out yesterday for a few minutes.  So I don’t mind leaving him in the least; and indeed he is going to Sidmouth himself, probably at the end of the week.  I have seen him every day without one exception, and have learnt a very great deal from him.  He has studied very closely school work, condition of the labourer, boys’ homes, best method of dispensing charity, &c., and on all these points his advice has been really invaluable.  I feel now that I am quite to all intents working the district.  People ask me about their children coming to school.  I know almost all the people in the village, and a good many out of it, and begin to understand, in a very small way, what a clergyman’s life is.  A mixture of sorrow and pleasure indeed!  There are many very sad cases of hypocrisy, filthiness, and wickedness (as I suppose there are in every district); and yesterday I had a very hard-working and in one case most painful day.

’Some people had asked me to take their boy, three years and a half old, to school—­a wretched pair, with a little savage for a son.  I said I would speak to Miss Wilkins, and put plainly before her the character of parents and child.  However, she wished to have him, and I knew it was so far well to get the boy away from home.  But such a scene ensued!  The boy was really like a little savage; kicked, dashed his head against the wall, and at length, with his nose bleeding violently, exhausted with his violence, fell asleep.  Next day, he is so bad, he is sent home; when the mother drives him back to school, cursing and swearing, telling Miss Wilkins she may kill him if she pleases!  Unluckily, I was not in school.