We have to record with deep regret the death of
the Master of the Temple, better known as Canon Ainger. Endowed with rare personal charm and great social gifts, an eloquent preacher and a distinguished man of letters, Canon Ainger disdained the arts of self-advertisement, having those two great antidotes against the craving for popularity,—a fastidious taste and a deep fund of humour. By way of compensation for his frail physique, he had to the very end a singular vivacity and boyish freshness of mind, which, coupled with his keen sense of the ludicrous, and his poetic instinct, made him an ideal interpreter of the genius of Lamb, with whose name his own will always be associated. His death removes a most winning personality, beloved and admired by hosts of friends, and most honoured by those who knew him best.