London, they strolled together towards the
station. The whiz and the bustle of the
stopping train, the slamming of carriage-
doors, and the hurry of guards, were just
over as the parson took his seat, when his
host, the kind old ex-physician, said, " Use that
in your good works, but never mention my
name." As he spoke he gave the parson a
paper, as he shook hands with him. The
engine was off. Let his astonishment be
imagined, when he opened the slip of paper
in his hand, and found it a cheque for one
thousand pounds!

The donor was the same old man who had
released the organ from its difficulties. He is
since dead; but his gifts towards the needs of
a poor London parish stand a lasting record of
unobtrusive charity in the list of donations
to Christ Church, St. George's-in-the-East,
where his offering figures thus:—

A Family Fund . . . £1100  0  0

Just below it on the list, is another large
donation, also made by one of the really
charitable, who ask no advertisement in return.
Two words tell the story:—

Anonymous . . . £700  0  0

Monuments enough, these, to prove the
existence, if proof were needed, of true charity
in England, and of the virtue of "/'II try''
But more remains yet to be told.

Encouraged by success, the plans of our
incumbent became bolder and bolder. Here
is the substance of one of his appeals; a list,
in fact, of what was wanted to meet the
spiritual and educational destitution of his
district.

1. A parsonage for the minister of the
present church, estimated, including the site,
at one thousand four hundred pounds.

2. Three new schools, for six hundred
children, with three residences, estimated at
about two thousand four hundred pounds.

3. A fund for the support of the schools.

4. A new church, of stone, plain but
substantial, for one thousand persons (of which,
if a sufficient endowment can be obtained, all
the seats will be free), estimated, with site, at
five thousand pounds.

5. A parsonage for the minister of the
new church, one thousand two hundred
pounds.

6. Endowment.

At first blush this might seem too much
to hope for; but, by hard work, by hopeful,
never ceasing endeavour—by again and again
recurring to the cheerful effort , that follows
the determination to try—much, nay, nearly
all, of that which was once a project are now
facts.

At the time we write, the incumbent has a
comfortable parsonage, the arches of the
Blackwall Hallway hold three of his schools;
—an infant school, a boy's school, and a girl's

school. In the same place he has a pence
bank, to which the poor of the neighbourhood
bring their savings, now amounting to nearly
a thousand pounds a year, and a library and
reading room, in which, for a penny a week,
the poor have light, and warmth, and news-
papers, and instructive and amusing books.
More than six thousand readers have attended
the place within the past year. He has likewise
a Ragged School, in which the very
poorest are taught to read and write. The fine
large schools he once hoped for to hold six
hundred children, with residences for masters and
mistresses, have been raised, and are occupied.
Altogether, he has now a thousand children
at school! He has, moreover, secured a second
church for the neighbourhood—the church of
stone he hoped for—to hold a thousand persons.
He got money to buy a site, when a peer who
heard of the efforts he was making, stepped
forward and built, and endowed the church,
at a cost of ten thousand pounds!

Thus far successful beyond what were
once his wildest hopes, he is still striving on.
He is at this moment trying for Baths and
Washhouses, and for a Sailor's Home—to
cleanse the poor, and to save the seamen from
plunder by crimps. With him, to begin is to
go on, and to go on is to succeed; but if any
like to help or imitate him, let them take, in
Fenchurch Street, one of the sixpenny railway
tickets we spoke of at the opening of this
paper, and stopping at the Shadwell Station,
ask for the incumbent of Christ Church, in
whom they will soon recognise the living hero
of this true story of I'll try.

THE MYSTERIES OF A TEA-KETTLE.

AT one of Mr. Bagges's small scientific tea-
parties, Mr. Harry Wilkinson delivered to
the worthy gentleman a lecture, based
principally on reminiscences of the Royal Institution,
and of a series of lectures delivered
there, by PROFESSOR FARADAY addressed to
children and young people. For it is not the
least of the merits of that famous chemist
and great man, PROFESSOR FARADAY, that he
delights to make the mightiest subject clear
to the simplest capacity; and that he shows
his mastery of Nature in nothing more than
in being thoroughly imbued with the spirit
of her goodness and simplicity.

This particular Lecture was on Natural
Philosophy in its bearings on a kettle. The
entertainment of a " Night with Mr. Bagges"
was usually extemporaneous. It was so on
this occasion. The footman brought in the
tea-kettle. "Does it boil?" demanded Mr.
Bagges.

"It have biled, Sir," answered the
domestic.

"Have biled, Sir!" repeated Mr. Bagges.
"Have biled! And what if it has 'biled,' or
boiled, as I desire you will say in future?
What is that to the purpose? Water may be