In completing this volume I propose to take a survey of what I have seen and noticed, amongst distinct religious denominations, during seventy years.

I. To begin with the Church of England. I remember hearing a sermon by the late Bishop of Manchester, at the reopening of Chester Cathedral, when, in no measured terms, he dwelt upon ecclesiastical abuses, as they existed during the last century, and the earliest part of the present. He exposed the nepotism of bishops, the worldliness of clergymen, and the indifference of Church-people to religion in general. About the same time another prelate privately told me that things in his diocese, when he was first consecrated, had reached such a point as made it wonderful how the Establishment had survived. He complained of the limited power diocesans had at command, to repress existing evils, and gave an instance, how in his own case he had spent a large sum without any effect for the removal of a clergyman who had dishonoured his profession. About the facts charged against the delinquent there could be no doubt, but proceedings failed through technical objections. I remember when I was a youth there were scandals in the diocese of Norwich, publicly known, yet legally unassailable. Plurality and non-residence were notorious. Preaching was neglected to a shameful degree; in one case fifteen churches were served by three incumbents. Livings had to be sequestered through clerical insolvency or scandalous misconduct. Bishop Stanley wrought a great reformation in these respects, much to the dismay of delinquents, much to the satisfaction of parishioners. I remember him perfectly well. Of slight figure, with white hair, he tripped along the streets of Norwich on a Sunday, to one church after another without giving beforehand notice of his movements, but surprising rector or curate at the close of the service by rising to pronounce the benediction. He was as unremitting and efficient in his clerical position, as he had before been in his naval duties. The magistrates’ seat prepared Ambrose for his episcopate at Milan: the deck of a ship prepared Edward Stanley to rule the diocese of Norwich.The typical High Church clergyman of my early days was a person perfunctorily discharging his duties, living on civil terms with his parishioners, known in the parish by clerical costume, reading prayers in a surplice, and preaching in a black gown, visiting the best society in the neighbourhood, kind to the poor, and looking upon Dissenters as a rather suspicious class.

But a great change took place in 1832. Earnest men, as we have seen, arose at Oxford, who devoted themselves to the study of certain Anglo-Catholic divines and Greek and Latin fathers. Some of them introduced ritualistic practices, older than the Reformation. The change under Henry VIII. and Elizabeth was approved by them no further than as it wiped away stains from the face of popery. I recollect a High Church layman telling me he liked an ornate service, but that he was left far behind by the newly advanced party. I have myself witnessed ceremonies in Anglican churches so nearly approaching the Romanistic that only a practised eye could discern the difference. There were, however, men of another order, who had a liking for Anglo-Catholic theology, but eschewed revived ceremonialism; and I have heard a High Churchman in Westminster Abbey preach such a sermon on the necessity of the Holy Spirit for the salvation of souls as, with a few expressions, a Methodist might have delivered. He pronounced a glowing eulogium on John Wesley. On one side this clergyman appeared a warm-hearted Evangelical, on the other, he was a staunch High Churchman.

When I think of Evangelicals early in this century, they present a different class from men of the type just described. As a boy in Norwich I heard Simeon of Cambridge, and Legh Richmond of Turvey; and I remember them at this moment as they appeared in the autumn of that year to advocate the British and Foreign Bible Society. The former of the two does not come to my recollection so vividly as the latter; him I can now see, with his pleasant face, and large spectacles, mounting, with a lame foot, the pulpit stairs of St. Lawrence’s Church—attired, not in a white surplice, but in a black gown: nothing priestly in his appearance and manner. His sermon was on behalf of the Society for Promoting Christianity among Jews. He took for his text, “For thy servants take pleasure in her stones and favour the dust thereof.” With a soft, winning voice, and “a sweet reasonableness” he discoursed on the interest, which all Christians should feel in building up the Church of God, especially with stones gathered from ruins of the House of Israel. In St Andrew’s Hall he spoke on behalf of the Bible Society, and related a conversation he had on the subject with the Emperor Alexander of Russia, when he visited England after the Napoleonic wars. He also told touching stories of what the Word of God could do for people amidst sins and sorrows. As to Charles Simeon, whom I heard, he did not penetrate like dew, but came down with hailstones and coals of fire.

At a later period Episcopalians bestirred themselves in many parts of the country, and from end to end, in building and other efforts for church extension, and I recollect Dean Alford told me how surprised the Church Commissioners were at the liberal response given to challenges for aiding ecclesiastical objects.

In 1865 the old Act of Uniformity was modified so as to relieve the consciences of such as scrupled to declare unfeigned consent to everything contained in the Prayer-Book. Now the requirement was an assent to the Articles, the Common Prayer, and the Ordering of Bishops, Priests, and Deacons, and a declaration that the doctrine of the Establishment was agreeable to the Word of God. In 1867 a commission was appointed to regulate public worship, the result of which was unsatisfactory.In former pages of this volume I have noticed devoted and exemplary Churchmen through whom my own soul has been nourished and stimulated. It would be ungrateful not to recognise, on these pages, spiritual benefit I have derived from sermons preached and books written by living Churchmen.

Before I close this section of reminiscences touching the Church of England it will be interesting to notice an accession to it of a remarkable person who had previously been a Dissenter. Her name, now so extensively known, was Sarah Martin. My old friend Mr. Walford often alluded to her in his conversations, and in his Autobiography, written in a series of letters published by his direction, he gives the following narrative:—

“This young woman, during my residence in Yarmouth, supported by her needle both herself and, I think, also an aged grandmother, with whom she lived at Caister, near Yarmouth. When I first knew her she was, I imagine, about twenty years of age. She introduced herself to me as one who had been as inconsiderate and negligent of religion, as she was ignorant of the nature of genuine Christianity. By some means, which I do not now remember, she was induced to come to the New Meeting, where she heard one or more discourses from me, which, she assured me, had produced very deep impressions upon her, and entirely changed the character of her mind and conduct. She subsequently became a member of the Church of which I was the pastor, and was most diligent and attentive to the public and private meetings of the Church. I found her to possess great energy of mind, by the exercise of which she very soon became well informed in the truths and duties of Christianity, and ardently disposed to do any good that was compatible with her station in life. Her affection for me was such that it is not too much to say of her, as St. Paul did of his converts among the Galatians, that, if it had been possible, they would have plucked out their own eyes and have given them to him (Gal. iv. 15). Her regard for me, and the ministry I exercised, continued unalterable through the several years in which I resided in Yarmouth, after my acquaintance with her commenced. I afterwards saw her several times during occasional visits which I made to that place, when I found that she still retained an affectionate remembrance of me.”

She was in humble circumstances, and earned a scanty income by the use of her needle; but she coupled with it extraordinary efforts for the good of others, and this disposed some ladies, members of the Established Church, to contribute to her support. This enabled her to devote more time to her charitable work, and at length she was so absorbed in it that she became a kind of missionary to the inmates of the workhouse and the prisoners in Yarmouth gaol. She read and explained the Scriptures to them, and in devotional service, she carried on for their spiritual welfare, she employed parts of the Church Prayer-Book. Gradually, I infer, she became attached to those who helped her, and this association led to her becoming a member of the Establishment. After her death a commemorative window was placed in Yarmouth parish church, and at its reopening, after a costly restoration, Bishop Wilberforce pronounced an eloquent eulogium on Sarah Martin’s character. Some intimate Nonconformist friends of mine remained attached to her, and showed me numerous MSS. in her handwriting.

I now return to the ranks of Dissent and proceed to notice—

II. English Presbyterianism. A word on its earlier history will here be appropriate. The Presbyterians of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were orthodox. After the Restoration many of them adhered to the Westminster Confession, but a departure from it, in some instances, appeared in the century after. Arian and Socinian opinions began to obtain, but those who held them claimed connection with the Presbyterians of the Commonwealth, on the ground that they followed such worthies in the exercise of religious freedom and the rights of conscience. Their forefathers had repudiated the Prayer-Book, and now they, their sons in the cause of religious freedom, renounced the Westminster Confession. For the most part they remained steadfast in believing New Testament miracles. The Rev. Mr. Madge, a noted English Presbyterian, sixty or seventy years ago, said to me once, he could not understand how a man could be called a Christian who did not believe in our Lord’s resurrection.

During the reign of William IV. the two most prominent English Presbyterians of the old school were the Rev. Mr. Aspland and Mr. Madge. The latter I knew well. Mr. Aspland was an eloquent speaker, and exerted himself conspicuously in the cause of Unitarianism, with which he identified the interests of religious freedom. His son, in writing his father’s life, pourtrays that gentleman’s religious connections, social virtues, and decision of character; but does not conceal his warmth of temper, and dislike to certain eminent Trinitarians. Mr. Madge, before he became minister of Essex Street, London, was for some years settled in my native city, and presided over a wealthy congregation, in which were several distinguished literary and artistic people. The Martineaus, the Aldersons, the Starks, and other distinguished families, were of the number. They worshipped in the Octagon Chapel, as it was called from its architecture, and for a number of years the building was the most distinguished Nonconformist place of worship in the eastern capital. It was rather sumptuously fitted up in my boyish days, and the attendants were not wont to mix much with other Dissenters. If there were any fault in this, I dare say it was shared on both sides.

Returning to the English Presbyterians at large, but especially as they existed in London, I must speak of a trust established by Dr. Williams, of the last century. He was orthodox, but the administration of funds bequeathed by him came into the hands of those Presbyterians who deviated from his doctrinal views, but still retained the Presbyterian name by which he was known. Though Unitarians in opinion, they by no means confined their charity to Unitarian ministers and chapels; and still the “Williams’ Scholarships” are enjoyed by students preparing for orthodox ministrations amongst Independents. Dr. Martineau was for some time an administrator of the trust, but strongly objected to the exclusion of orthodox ministers from its administration.

During the last century there were Presbyterians in England holding decidedly Evangelical views, and of late there have been numerous congregations gathered, which, in their unity, form what is called “The Presbyterian Church in England.” Scotch brethren of great renown—Dr. James Hamilton, Dr. Young, and Dr. Archer—I had the privilege of numbering amongst personal friends, and they were held in honour by all Evangelical Churchmen and Nonconformists.

III. Another large section of brethren were Baptists, distinguished by certain doctrinal and disciplinary views;—the former as Particular or Calvinistic, on the one hand, and General or Arminian on the other;—the latter as Open communionists and Strict communionists. Open communionists admit to the Lord’s table those who have not been baptised by immersion; Strict communionists confine the Lord’s Supper to those who have been immersed. Such distinctions are now fading away. Calvinists and Arminians are comprehended in the same union, and Strict communionists are comparatively few.

Robert Hall, the advocate of Open communion, I never saw: he died when I was young. Joseph Kinghorn, his opponent, a distinguished Hebrew scholar, I knew well, as he lived in Norwich during my boyhood. William Brock, who succeeded him, and afterwards became minister of Bloomsbury Chapel, London, entered the ministry about the same time as I did, and we regarded each other with warm affection. Dr. Cox and Dr. Steane were widely known in the religious world, and with both of them I entered into a fellowship of work and worship at the opening of chapels and on other public occasions. John Howard Hinton was another Baptist brother, of whom I saw much when he was at Reading and I was at Windsor. He was more original, more metaphysical, more scientific, and more excitable than others whom I have mentioned, perhaps of a higher intellectual order, and still greater depth of religious emotion. Mr. Spurgeon, who has so recently left the world, and whose influence and fame extended further than any other Nonconformist in modern times, I greatly respected and admired; and though I did not share his intimacy, I saw something of him in my own home, and a little more in his, where he had a magnificent library, and received his numerous friends with cordiality. His popularity amongst aristocratic people was, for a little time, much greater than is generally supposed, for I was informed by a lady of distinction that for some weeks in his early career he was a leading topic of conversation in upper circles.

IV. I now turn to the Quaker community. Well do I remember meetings at the Goldencroft, Norwich, where, at the upper end, sat men and women called Public Friends. My mother, born in 1770, told me of yearly meetings held in our old city, when sometimes Friends from America attended: and so great was the number of visitors that it raised the market price of provisions. Some ladies who came from the other side of the Atlantic wore dresses with open skirts and green aprons. No bows of ribbon were seen, while bonnets of black and of lead-coloured silk crowned the heads of young and old. What Charles Lamb says in his “Elia” corresponds with what I recollect, and what my mother used to tell me, how “troops of the shining ones” were seen walking the streets, on their way to the house of worship, where their silence was more eloquent than speech. I have read with sympathy “The Life of John Woolman,” written by himself, and so warmly recommended by the essayist. “Get,” says Charles Lamb, “the writings of John Woolman by heart, and love the early Quakers.”

A very serious diversion in theological opinion existed among American Friends early in this century, and it is because an effect of it appeared in England that it is noticed here. A French Friend—the well-known Stephen Grellet—travelling in the States, makes this entry in his journal, under date 1822:—“We proceeded to Long Island, where I attended all the meetings, but here my soul’s distress exceeded all I had known during the preceding months, though my baptism had been deep. I found that the greatest part of the members of our Society and many of the ministers and elders, are carried away by the principle which Elias Hicks has so assiduously propagated among them. He now speaks out boldly, disguising his sentiments no longer; he seeks to invalidate the Holy Scriptures, and sets up man’s reason as his only guide, openly denying the divinity of Christ. I have had many expostulations with him in which I have most tenderly pleaded with him, but all has been in vain.” [374] From what I have read in American literature touching what is known as the Hicksite controversy, it appears to me plainly indicative of a denial among many American Friends, that Jesus Christ, in the orthodox sense of the term, was Divine, and that He did not make any atonement for sin. Hicks appears to have been a thorough mystic, unintelligible to common-sense people. At all events he converted many to his views; and these views were caught up by some Friends in this country. To what extent exactly they were adopted in England I cannot say: but they created alarm amongst many Friends on this side the Atlantic. Great sorrow at the abandonment of Evangelical doctrines led to secessions from Quakerism on the part of excellent people who had been born and bred in the community. Some of them resided, at the time I speak of, on the borders of Wales, others in the county of York. They became Congregationalists, and in tours on behalf of the London Missionary Society, I was received hospitably in their homes, and had gratifying opportunities of witnessing their beautiful Christian life.

Joseph John Gurney, of Earlham, felt seriously concerned respecting the American defection, in a community to which he had been attached from childhood. He had studied in the University of Oxford, had cultivated friendships in other denominations, was a good classic and Biblical scholar, and also an author of theological works. Mr. Gurney was “concerned” about the effect of Hicksite opinion on American and English Friends, and therefore took up his pen and wrote in reply to the leader who had done so much mischief.

Mr. Gurney, like his sister Mrs. Fry, undertook journeys for preaching the Gospel, and once he visited Windsor for that purpose. I was unwell at the time, but he called and talked by my bedside, and commended me to God in prayer. Several Quaker families at that period were living at Staines and Uxbridge; with them I had much intercourse, especially when we were joined in the advocacy of Slave Emancipation. The community, in both towns now named, was considerable for numbers and for wealth.

Friends now dress, speak and act much like other people. Conforming to common custom, they still eschew all extravagances of fashion. They no longer forfeit membership by “marrying out of Society.” “The Right Honourable John Bright” (how shocked George Fox would have been at the title!) told me once, that relaxation in strictness as to unimportant points, had checked a decline in numbers going on before.V. Methodism, of course, brings to my mind a long train of early associations. Not merely names, but living forms, of noted preachers belonging to the second decade of this century come back to my recollection.

Calvert Street Chapel was opened about 1812, and Dr. Coke preached.

I cannot say that I remember his sermon; but, as noticed already, I distinctly recollect seeing the odd-looking, diminutive man, standing on a table talking in the committee room of Bethel Hospital [377] adorned by paintings of foundress and governors. Dr. Coke energetically addressed on the occasion a number of people, who had been invited by my grandfather, to hear the noted advocate of Methodist missions. Many years afterwards I mentioned the circumstance to a gentleman, who at the time took care of the patients, when he fetched an old committee book, in which this gathering was noticed, with a minute expressing the displeasure of the Governors at such a liberty being taken, and forbidding anything of the kind in future. The Wesleyan congregations in Norwich were then very large, and local preachers—uncultivated men in humble life—frequently occupied the pulpit in the afternoon service at Calvert Street, and, remember, delivered animated discourses likely to do their hearers good.

Dr. Jabez Bunting was a very influential man among the Methodists when I was young. For many years he was regarded as ruler of the Connexion,—exerting a despotic sway over the whole body. Such general conclusions oftentimes are not fairly drawn from existing facts, and how far widely extended opinion in the case now noticed, is justifiable I cannot undertake to say. To me he was very agreeable, and for him I had great respect. William Bunting, his son, was of a different stamp from his father, and though a skilful critic, he had not his father’s gift of authority and rule.

Before the middle of the century came Dr. Newton, to open a second chapel, in the upper part of Norwich; his magnificent voice and careful diction produced a powerful effect. I met him in after-life at Windsor, when he told me that he was accustomed to leave his home on Monday morning in the Manchester circuit, and travel by coach to the other end of England,—perhaps cross over to Ireland,—and then get back, at the end of the week, ready for preaching the next day. He said he weekly delivered five or six sermons, making them “on the wheels” as he went along. He seemed a stranger to physical fatigue.

During my Windsor ministry I became acquainted with a noted Wesleyan, who was not an itinerant, but a local, preacher. He went by the name of “Billy Dawson,” and was eminently gifted with humour and pathos. I heard him preach, and listened to his platform speeches. He was not only naturally eloquent, but histrionic too; in speeches and sermons he acted while he spoke. He made you realise what he described. It is said that George Whitefield, when preaching to sailors, described a storm at sea so vividly that some of them shouted, “Take to the long boat.” Dawson had a like power of realising what he described. He would, at a missionary meeting, make a telescope of his resolution, and putting it to one of his eyes, describe what he saw in imagination,—perhaps a picture of the millennium drawn from Isaiah’s prophecies. I was young, just come from college, at the time I speak of, and made a speech in which I used some words which were not so plain as they might have been. After the meeting he spoke to me kindly, suggesting equivalent terms in plain Saxon. It was a good lesson for an unfledged bird.When I was a member of the Wesleyan Society, I attended class according to rule, and I found the practice beneficial, inasmuch as it was a constant spur to self-examination. The primitive agape, revived amongst the Methodists, exists under the name of love-feast, at which, together with eating bread and drinking water as an expression of fellowship, men and women are accustomed voluntarily to rise, and give some account of their religious experience for edification to others. These addresses I found often interesting and useful. By such means, a habit of spiritual intercommunication amongst Methodists is kept alive; beneficial in some cases no doubt, but liable to abuse in others, as most good things are. I am constrained to relate how this habit on the bright side manifested itself on a private occasion during a meeting of Conference in London. Dr. Jobson, an eminent Wesleyan, invited a party of friends to his house. He kindly included me in the number, and I found at his hospitable board the President for the year, and some ex-presidents. Together with them, Drs. Binney, Raleigh, Allon, and Donald Fraser were present. Our host was a thorough Methodist, and very comprehensive in his sympathies, for he had mixed with different denominations. He had many friends in the Establishment, and in early life had studied under an eminent Roman Catholic architect, at whose house he met bishops and priests of that communion. On the occasion I refer to, he in an easy way initiated a conversation which I can never forget. He appealed to his guests, one by one, for some account of their religious life. All readily responded; and this is most remarkable,—all who spoke attributed to Methodism spiritual influence of a decisive kind. To use Wesleyan phraseology, most of them had been “brought to God” through Methodist instrumentality. Dr. Osborne was present, and made some remarks, at the close of which, with choked utterance, he repeated the verse—

“And if our fellowship below,
In Jesus be so sweet,
What heights of rapture shall we know,
When round the throne we meet?”

The Norwich Methodists were chiefly humble folks with a sprinkling of some in better circumstances; their habits were very simple and they looked upon some who made money as becoming “worldly,” or at least, as exposed to temptation. At that time, however, such as possessed social comforts could not be justly charged with conformity to the course of this world; and over their little gatherings in one another’s houses there was shed a religious atmosphere such as was breathed in class and love-feast. Early in the century on a Sunday, between afternoon and evening service, there might be a large tea-party, where the preacher, a class-leader, and other members of Society would talk and pray and sing, till it was time to go to evening service at chapel. This communion seems to me now as I think of it such as is described in Malachi: “Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another, and the Lord hearkened and heard it; and a book of remembrance was written before Him for them that feared the Lord and that thought upon His name; and they shall be Mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up My jewels, and I will spare them as a man spareth his own son that serveth him.”

Worldly prosperity has since fallen to the lot of not a few Methodists, and the usual temptations surrounding wealth have tested their character; but I am thankful to say, amongst those whom I have visited, I have found beautiful instances of adherence to religious principles. I may mention a friend already noticed, Sir William McArthur, K.C.M.G. When Lord Mayor of London he continued his previous Wesleyan duties; and whilst bountiful in his hospitality eschewed usages of a fashionable kind. In his year of office the Œcumenical Conference was held, and during its meetings repeated Mansion House invitations were given to friends in sympathy with Evangelical religion. I attended his funeral, and in his residence on Notting Hill a large number of mourners assembled, and we had a short devotional service together, very touching, tender, and beautiful.

My personal recollections of Methodism, which roll back more than seventy years ago, linger round Yarmouth and Norwich. At Yarmouth I used to worship on a Sunday in a curious old-fashioned square chapel, with galleries on the four sides. There was a deep one opposite the two entrance doors, and attached to the front of that gallery was a pulpit—by what means, as a boy, I never could make out. The preacher ascended from behind by a staircase, invisible to the congregation, and then from the top of the staircase descended by two or three steps into a curiously shaped pulpit. I distinctly recollect the venerable Joseph Benson, then a patriarch, who had been associated with Methodists in John Wesley’s time. I think I see him now, of slender frame, venerable aspect, and wearing a coat of dark purple. Of course I have no recollection of what he said, but he was regarded as a saintly man in those days. In the autumn Yarmouth was frequented by a number of mariners from the north—coblemen they were called—who had come to fish for herrings off the Yarmouth coast. They were staunch Methodists, and used to hold a prayer-meeting after the general service. How those men used to pray with stentorian voice, which called forth loud “Amens” from voices all over the chapel!

In Calvert Street, Norwich, there used to be special services on Christmas-day. After a prayer-meeting at six o’clock in the morning there was preaching at seven o’clock, when hymns appropriate to the season were sung, accompanied by violins and wind instruments of different kinds. I did not fail, between five and six o’clock, to rise and cross the city in order to be in good time for these services. They usually commenced with the hymn—

“Christians, awake, salute the happy morn
Whereon the Saviour of mankind was born;
Rise to adore the mystery of love,
Which hosts of angels chanted from above;
With them the joyful tidings first begun
Of God incarnate and the Virgin’s son.

“Then to the watchful shepherds it was told,
Who heard the angelic herald’s voice: ‘Behold,
I bring good tidings of a Saviour’s birth,
To you and all the nations upon earth:
This day hath God fulfilled His promised word,
This day is born a Saviour, Christ the Lord.’”

With the Methodist chapel in Calvert Street my earliest religious thoughts are connected. Watch-nights and love-feasts, are sacred in my recollection.

VI. Respecting the Congregationalist denomination, of which I have spoken already, let me add that in 1877 I was requested by Dr. Schaff, of New York, to give my impression of prevalent beliefs amongst us. I replied as follows: “Looking at the principles of Congregationalism, which involve the repudiation of all human authority in matters of religion, it is impossible to believe that persons holding those principles can consistently regard any ecclesiastical creed or symbol in the same way as Catholics, whether Roman or Anglican, regard the creeds of the ancient Church. There is a strong feeling against the use of such documents for the purpose of defining limits of religious communion, or for the purpose of checking the exercise of free inquiry; and there is also a widespread conviction that it is impossible to reduce the expression of Christian belief to a series of logical propositions, so as to preserve and represent the full spirit of Gospel truth.” (See Schaff’s “Creeds of Christendom,” p. 833.)

No doubt there may be heard in some circles loose conversation, seeming to indicate such a repugnance to creeds as would imply a dislike to all formal definitions of Christian doctrine; but I apprehend the prevailing sentiment relative to this subject among our ministers and churches does not go beyond the point just indicated. Many of them consider that while creeds are objectionable as tests, and imperfect as confessions, they may have a certain value as manifestoes of conviction, on the part of different communities.

Some people write and talk on the subject of present opinion, with a positiveness which only omniscience could warrant. No mortal can know what is going on in the minds of thousands, touching momentous subjects; yet such knowledge is requisite for the confident conclusions of certain critics. We may speak decidedly of what is commonly taught in a community, yet this should be done with qualifications and no farther.

Silence on momentous points may prove a loss as to the full wealth of theology; but I am thankful for gain at the present day in richer views than formerly of our Lord’s character, and the bearing of it upon life and conduct. Let me add, however, if Redemption in all its fulness be not prominent in pulpit ministrations, power will be gone. Some suppose we are making theological advance, and that discoveries are opening akin to those in physical science; but people who have more carefully surveyed the wide field, and more observantly studied the history of religious thought, discover that much as seen at first sight, is chiefly a falling back upon what was old and forgotten.

In closing what I have to say of modern Congregationalists, I venture to notice deceased ministers whom it has been a privilege to number amongst my friends.

I knew but slightly the Rev. William Jay of Bath. He has been incidentally noticed in these pages already, for he was old when I was young. He rose from a lowly rank in life to be regarded as teacher and companion by the intellectual and noble. Mrs. Hannah More valued his ministrations and cultivated his society. Wilberforce used to attend his chapel when staying at Bath; and an Indian ruler, when in England, went to hear him at Surrey Chapel, and expressed great admiration of the sermon.

The next to be mentioned is John Angell James of Birmingham. I remember perfectly well the first sermon I heard him preach when I was a student. The text was: “Our conversation (or citizenship) is in heaven.” His voice was richly toned—a genuine birth gift improved by culture. He introduced the following illustration: A pilgrim in the Middle Ages, on his way to Jerusalem, passed through Constantinople. A friend took him from street to street, pausing to point out attractions, in magnificent buildings, and the rich scenery of the Golden Horn. He wondered the traveller was not enchanted. The latter replied: “Yes, all very fine, but it is not the Holy City.” The application was obvious and well enforced.

Dr. Raffles of Liverpool—noticed already as one of my companions to Rome—and Dr. Hamilton of Leeds, well known throughout England, won the affections of their people by sympathetic intercourse, and interested them by eloquent instructions and appeals. The former enunciated his carefully prepared periods with a voice naturally musical, the latter delivered his thoughts in condensed sentences, which reminded one of a person taking very short steps. There was an intellectual power in the sermons of the last-named, not indicated in those of the former.

John Alexander of Norwich I cannot pass by without notice. Like David, he was a youth with ruddy countenance. His speech throughout a sermon fell gentle as a snowflake, without any coldness of touch. He read much, and made good use of what he read. The charm of his private life and conversation exceeded the effect of his public ministry, though that was great.

I must mention another name. John Harris was for some years a secluded pastor at Epsom, little known. He wrote “The Great Teacher,” but though far above the common level of such literature, it made little impression, compared with its merits. A prize was offered for an essay on Covetousness and Christian Liberality. Harris won the prize, and printed the essay. The effect was instantaneous.

The book sold edition after edition, and the author’s name became generally familiar. Requests for his services were universal. He was everywhere talked about, and when he preached places were crowded. His popularity lasted as long as he lived, but he died when he was fifty-four. He was unassuming, kind-hearted, generous to poor ministers, genial in conversation, and beloved by all who knew him.

Another brother must be mentioned—Baldwin Brown—of superior intellectual type, well educated, an extensive reader, and one who delighted in a large circle of sympathetic friends. He gathered round him a good congregation, composed chiefly of thoughtful people, who became assimilated to his characteristic teachings. He wore himself out by incessant study and pulpit service.

I must not pass by David Thomas of Bristol, my fellow-student and friend through life, whose elevated and genial character won from a wide circle warm attachment, and whose unique pulpit power captivated all capable of sympathising with one so thoughtful and so good.

Nor can I omit Alexander Raleigh, my successor for a short period at Kensington, who fulfilled a ministry dear to many who listened with delight to his characteristic teaching.

The last name I mention is that of Samuel Martin, minister at Westminster Chapel. He had gifts of a peculiar description, which marked him off, and made him stand by himself, both as minister and man. His appearance, voice, manner, habits, were all his own. He lived for his Church, in whose interests he was thoroughly absorbed. No one not intimately acquainted with him could have an adequate idea how he loved his flock, and lived for their welfare week by week. I had reverent affection for him as a saintly man, and I witnessed evidence amongst his large circle, in town and country, how he watched for souls as one that must give an account. His congregation during Parliament months included several M.P.’s, whom he gathered together for patriotic prayer.

His neighbour, Dr. Stanley, had a reverent regard for Mr. Martin, and I know that the Dean and Lady Augusta went to Westminster Chapel to hear his voice and worship with his people. He spoke to me of him in terms of strong affection, also telling me of a brother clergyman who, after a visit to his sick chamber, pronounced him one of the most saintly men he had ever seen.

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