It was a delightful thing to see Mr. Hoare in the midst of his family. Some of us remember only the later years of his life, but the enjoyment which he then took in the company of his grandchildren was very charming to witness. Those, however, who recollect the time when his ten boys and girls were growing up around him, speak with much pleasure of the way in which he threw himself into all their feelings and pursuits, and the skill which he evinced in drawing out their characters. He tried hard, as he touchingly says in one of his letters, to be “father and mother in one.” In the bringing up of his children religion formed such a bright part of their life that allusions to it came in quite naturally into ordinary conversation. On one occasion, five years before Mrs. Hoare’s death, he makes the following entry in his journal:—

“September 19th, 1858.—Very much interested to-day by — [one of his younger boys]. I was talking at dinner about the great geological periods of creation. He said, ‘But it took place in one week.’ I answered, ‘Those days were probably long periods, as it says, “One day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.”’ He said, ‘I thought that meant that with the Lord we should be so happy that a thousand years would seem like one day, they would pass so quickly!’”

How God blessed his efforts is known to all who are acquainted with his family.

The following letter refers to these happy relationships:—

“T. W., March 3rd, 1864.

“My dear Daughters,—I cannot say how often we think of you, and how pleased I was to hear of your safe arrival and enjoyment at Oxford. I know few places in all England with more objects of interest than Oxford, and I have no doubt you will thoroughly enjoy your week there. We are getting on comfortably, though I have had rather too much of clerical meetings, having one on Monday and one to-day. But I hope it has been in the Lord’s service. On Monday we went through Romans xi., and I certainly thought that the Prophetics had studied the chapter better than the Clericals. But I was quite confirmed in the exposition at the Prophetical. I suppose Annie has told you of all our home doings. We really have got on very comfortably, but it seems very strange to have seven away out of the ten. I suppose, however, if God preserves me, I must look forward to more than that in future. The course of life seems to be that a person begins alone, and then, when God gives him the blessing of such a union as I have had, the house fills year after year, till at length the tide turns and the dispersion begins, till at last sometimes the question arises who shall be the companion of the aged father. But we have not come to that yet, or near it; and when it does come, if it ever does, I am sure it will be to draw us heavenward, and wean me more and more from earth to heaven. I am sure I have been far too much tied down below. Truly I may say, ‘My soul cleaveth unto the dust’; but I think I already feel something of the weaning power, and I trust I may feel it more and more. However, I scarcely ought to write so to you; but rather to thank God for the present mercies, for the past lovingkindness, and for my dear, dear daughters, who, I am sure, do all that daughters can to make my home happy. Dear love to you both, and to your uncle and aunt.

“Your most affectionate Father,
“E. H.”

In 1864 Mr. Hoare, accompanied by a brother and two of his sons, went for a tour in Switzerland. It was on their return that the first meeting took place between the writer and his future Vicar (as has been intimated in the Preface); and Mr. Hoare used to say, with reference to the mournful circumstances connected with that day, that he often asked himself, “Why should I be permitted to bring my boys back in health and strength, while this other father brings back only one of the two who went out on their holiday?”

The following letters were written at this time:—

“Lucerne, August 4th, 1864.

“My dear Girls,—We failed in catching the night train at Paris, so were obliged to come on yesterday by day to Basle, and to-day to this lovely place, which looks more beautiful than ever. I certainly think it is the most beautiful place I know in the world. To-morrow we strike into the mountains. . . . Everything thus far has prospered with us, but my heart hungers after home; and I don’t know how it is, but I always feel my loss most when I am away. I hardly knew how to bear it at Plymouth. I suppose the reason is that the thoughts are always dwelling on home and all its interests, so that all connected with it is more felt than ever. The boys are very bright and very agreeable, Edward being full of his conversation with the French, to his own great delight, and their great amusement. He travelled many hours yesterday in a carriage away from us, in order that he might ride with a large French family who had a compartment to themselves. Gurney is not so conversable, but has every appearance of being pre-eminently happy. We are now preparing to go up the Rigi for the night, and the whole party are gone to purchase alpenstocks. Would not you like to be going with us? But, oh! if it lasts so hot, I wonder how much there will be left of us when we reach the top. Dear love to all. Tell Lily I hope she will look after my garden as well as her own, and tell the bees we are getting on well, and met with excellent honey. Also you may tell — of this as the right time of year to plant some Melilotus Leucantha, and also some good strawberries. Let me know how the sunflowers are, and the rose-cuttings.

“Dearest love to all.

“Most affectionate
“E. H.”

Family-letter from abroad:—

“St. Luc, August 16th, 1864.

“My dearest Sons and Daughters,—‘Homeward Bound’ is always a pleasant sound, and so it is on this occasion, however pleasant our journey may have been, for I have been quite homesick for some days, and, like a schoolboy, have been counting the days till my return. I fully hope to be home on Saturday, but I cannot say at what time, as we have lost all reckoning as to hours. Indeed we may fail altogether, as we are acting contrary to my general rule, and propose to travel by the last train all the way from Basle, so that if anything fails at any point we shall be thrown out altogether. But I trust we shall arrive all right, and dear uncle with us. . . . I hope we may be home by the 6.20, but I cannot say positively, as I know nothing.

“I cannot say how I rejoice at the good accounts I hear from you. I have thought of you all with the utmost interest, and prayed for you with a father’s love. Tell the dear boys how pleased I have been to hear such good accounts of them. They little know how they have added to the pleasure of my journey, for if I had felt an anxiety respecting them, I could not have enjoyed even this beautiful country. Tell — and — likewise how very much I have been pleased with your report of them, and thank — and — for their letters.

“We had a splendid week last week, and many sacred remembrances of our happy journey together, and when we came to Zermatt it seemed so like old times that I could almost have looked out for you. The mountains seemed more beautiful than ever; but there they stand fixed, and know nothing of the changes that have taken place in the hearts and homes of those that look at them. But there is one thing more fixed and more permanent than they are; I mean the love of God in Christ Jesus. In it therefore we will seek to trust more and more, and I am sure He will never fail us, as He has never done yet, and we shall never be disappointed. I have accepted the Archbishop’s invitation, and I hope — will enjoy her visit. As for myself, I had sooner remain at home. But it is clearly right to go, and indeed I propose to make an effort and go out more than I have done lately. The boys send their very dear love, though they do not seem much disposed to express it on paper. That they leave to me. If any very nice person turns up who may be disposed to preach once on Sunday, it would be very acceptable; but I hope to reach home prepared.

“Dear love to all.

“Most affectionate
“E. H.”

Letter to his sons:—

“Sierre, August 16th, 1864.

“My dear Boys,—I have been so greatly pleased by the good report that I have had of you that I must write one line to tell you so. I am quite thankful for it, and I have no doubt you have had a happy holiday in consequence. I made some lines on the mountains to show that the way to be happy is to seek each other’s happiness:—

“‘When all begin to seek their own,
Then each must seek it quite alone;
But when all seek to please each other,
Then each is helped by every brother.’

“We have found this to be quite the case in travelling, for it is quite necessary when we travel to think of all the party, and strive to please every one. But I must not moralise, but tell you something of our journey. We have not had many adventures; but we have climbed up some terrible hills, and I can assure you it has been hard work. Up, up, up; puff, puff, puff; grunt, grunt, grunt; and still the farther you go, the mountains grow higher and higher. You think sometimes you are near the top, and, when you get there, you find another top higher still, and then another, till you get quite tired of tops. And coming down is hard work too. The mountains are covered with great loose stones, so that by the time you are at the bottom you are glad enough of a resting-place. We go to bed very early, the boys about eight, and I about nine. But then we make up for it at the other end, and by five o’clock, when you are all fast asleep, we are all moving, and sometimes almost off. The middle of the day is so hot, as our hands and faces will prove to you, that we can scarcely travel in the middle of the day, unless we be high up in the mountains, where the air is so beautifully fresh that we can do almost anything. We meet with a great many travellers, many of whom are wandering over the glaciers. They are a queer-looking set, with immense boots with large nails in them, with wideawakes and green veils tied over them, with a long pole in their hand with a spike at one end and an axe at the other. Then you see their guide marching behind with a similar axe, and a long rope on his back, which is used to strap the whole party together if they cross any dangerous place, so that, if one falls, the others may hold him up. And tremendous slips they sometimes have. A few days ago four men slipped and slid four hundred feet, more than twice the length of our garden, down a steep piece of ice with a huge precipice at the bottom, so that they would have been dashed to pieces if they had not stopped. But happily two of them struck their axes into the ice just in time, and so they hung on, close by the edge of the precipice, and were saved. I suppose some time or other I shall hear of you two being Alpine travellers. Gurney and Ted seem quite ready to begin;—but my time is past, and I must content myself with going only to those places where I can climb with poor wind and old legs. However, at Zermatt we met with Mr. and Mrs. —, who had been wandering over the highest glaciers, she being strapped by a rope to the guides. I suppose she liked it; but I am not sure it was quite the right place for a lady.

“Well! I hope we shall all be together, if God permit, on Saturday, and bring all our things with us, but some are already left behind, and others are waiting for us on the road, as we have taken hardly any luggage, so that a good many of our preparations were of no use at all. Since Monday morning we have had only a knapsack between us, so you may imagine we have not been very smart, and our evening dress has not been of the gayest kind. I fear also it has not always been of the cleanest, for we have not had things enough to change nearly so often as we should have liked. But we look forward to a glorious wash on Saturday. But one disadvantage of our having so little luggage is that we cannot bring home any Swiss curiosities. We have had enough to do to get our own absolute necessaries across the mountains; so we shall be obliged to come back quite empty-handed. But we shall come not empty-hearted, but full of love to all my dear ones. Good-bye. May God bless and keep you!

“Most affectionate
“E. H.”

The following letters have an individual interest of their own:—

“Tunbridge Wells, February 1st, 1866.

“I am sure it is very profitable as well as pleasant to have an occasional change in those we hear, and on the strength of this conviction I propose to take a weekday holiday for next seven weeks, as Mr. Burgess is to preach for me next Wednesday, and other brethren during Lent. So I hope to buckle to and get through Pusey on Daniel, if good friend Jacques is not reading it. I quite enjoy the thoughts of it, though really I ought to be thankful for our Wednesday evenings, though I must admit they are an effort to me.”

“Tunbridge Wells, May 20th, 1867.

“We have been getting on capitally, and had really a very pleasant Sunday. Campbell’s sermon was quite first-rate, and made a great impression on all who heard it. But I greatly fear he will not come as curate. I should esteem it a very great favour if the Lord were to send me some one who would give a little fresh fire to me as well as the people, for I sometimes find my own energies flag, and greatly desire to have some fresh zeal infused among us. Numbers of people wandered to other churches, but I believe no one regretted their worship in the Hall or Schoolroom. [151] We sang the hymn ‘Jesus, where’er Thy people meet,’ and I believe we beheld His ‘mercy-seat.’ The girls are going to Mr. — this evening with Brodie. I am going to stay at home, for I do not like the thought of sitting there for three hours. How strange it is the people think two hours too long for church, but like three hours for a lecture! I suppose they enjoy the one more than the other, and that makes all the difference. I am afraid they will find Heaven very dull.”

“Woodford Green, September 5th, 1867.

“It has been a great joy to me to hear such good reports of all the party, and I hope you will tell them all so. There is no text in the Bible which I can enter into more fully than this, ‘I have no greater joy than to know that my children walk in truth.’ To hear of and to witness your well-doing is the greatest joy I have in life, and if it please God to grant that we may all be one together for eternity, it will take eternity to express my thankfulness.”

On hearing of the sudden death of a friend:—

“York, May 24th, 1869.

“How rapidly and how unexpectedly do the greatest dangers take place! Truly we are living on the brink of eternity, and a few hours may find us in the midst of it. May the Lord keep us with our loins girt and our lamps burning, and we ourselves as those that wait for their Lord. I am thankful to say I have got on very comfortably, but I am too old to talk all day, and nothing suits me so well as home. I sometimes think I must give up travelling altogether; but then when I find how much my poor services seem to be valued I have my misgivings. We have had really noble collections, no less than £78 in one little church holding little more than two hundred persons, the richest of whom were shop-keepers and professional men; and £60 in another church where the congregation, though rather larger, was very much of the same character. We have therefore still much to learn at home, and none more than I have. It seems that we are only at the beginning, at the very threshold of heavenly knowledge, but what we can see on the threshold is enough to fill the soul with praise and gratitude.”

“Tunbridge Wells, April 26th, 1870.

“I have really been regretting your absence from the feast of fat things which we have lately been enjoying at home, for I consider we have had privileges of a very high order.

“Our Passion Week services were most profitable, and following as they did on Mr. Langston’s Lent sermons, they tended, I trust, to put a seal on impressions already formed, though I cannot say I have yet had the joy of discovering any cases of marked conversion as their consequence. I have, however, met with those who I think have been aroused to further progress, and who acknowledge the help given with real thankfulness.

“I trust also that our C.M.S. anniversary may be regarded as a token of progress. There has been an amazing amount of interest amongst our younger parishioners on the subject of the African Bishop, [153] so that yesterday the Mission-room was quite full, and again both the Trinity rooms in the evening. There were so many last night that there were several standing by the door of the girls’ room, and a collection of £14, containing an immense amount of copper. I confess I was anxious about our collection in church, especially when I found that we had not exceeded that of last year in the morning, but we picked up nobly in the afternoon and evening. In the evening alone there was £45, so that before we left church the collection reached £120, and there were £11 additional sent on Monday morning. I hope I may regard it as the fruit of all the admirable sermons that we have lately heard, and if so I shall regard it with peculiar thanksgiving, as showing that there has been not merely religious excitement but true religious principle at work amongst the people. And this is what we all want. It is to be living under the combined influence of principle and emotion, of deep feeling produced in the soul by strong conviction of Christian truth.

“I have been very much urged to go to Cheltenham, and if I go I should immediately set out for my long journey. But I do so enjoy my quiet work at home that I sometimes think I must never go out again. I ought, however, to be thankful for the privilege of being permitted to do the Lord’s work anywhere.”