LETTERS TO THE EDITOR.
SEPTIMUS HANSARD.
[To TEN EDITOR OF THE " SPECTATOR:I Zia,—The tribute to the memory of Septimus Hansard, from the pen of Mr. Lewis Dickinson, recalls an anecdote which illustrates the quiet humour and large-hearted sympathy
which, as he says, characterised that "best sort of English- man." A few days after Hansard had so courageously undertaken the charge of St. George's-in-the-East, I had the pleasure of meeting him at luncheon at Maurice's house in Russell Square. He was naturally full of his new under- taking, and had much to tell us of the queer state in which he found parochial matters. Among other things, he told us of the neglected condition of the burial-ground. He had at once obtained the services of some old paupers from the workhouse, and sent them in to clear the ground of the weeds which had been allowed undisturbed sway. In the course of the day he and a companion strolled in to see how the work progressed. ' A good space had been made tidy, but in the middle of the cleared ground, a magnificent thistle in full flower was still rearing its head. So he called to an old labourer, and pointing to the thistle said, half-jokingly,—" Do you call that doing your work? "—" No, Sir," the poor man replied. "I know I oughtn't to have left him, but he did look so beautiful, I hadn't the heart to cut him up."—" Quite right, too, my man," was Hansard's reply. "Though it is a weed, it is one of God's handiworks, and for those who have eyes to see and hearts to appreciate them, one of his most beautiful.
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