shall never forget his influence when he first joined us as a pupil.  There was at that time a good deal of quarrelling amongst us.  There was one young fellow who was rich, but very foolish, who became the butt of his companions.  I remember well one day, when Goulburn had just come amongst us, and we were all like a pack of hounds upon that young fellow, Goulburn got up from the table, walked round to him, and put his hand upon him, saying, “I will be your friend.”  That act of his had such a power over the whole party that similar unkindness entirely ceased.  I never saw a repetition of it.

But, besides the pupils within the house, we had the immense advantage of the friendship of Mr. Elliott’s mother and sisters, who lived close by.  That mother was one of the most charming old ladies I ever remember.  She was the daughter of Henry Venn, Rector of Yelling, the grandfather of the late Henry Venn, Secretary of the Church Missionary Society.  She grew up amongst her father’s friends, Berridge, Fletcher, and Simeon in his early days, and nothing could be more charming, more delightful, than her reminiscence of the early struggle of those devoted men.  It wanted a good deal to draw me from the cricket field, but she had the power of doing it.  I could not have had a greater treat than to listen for half-an-hour to her anecdotes.

Then again it was one of the privileges that we enjoyed at Brighton that we attended St. Mary’s Church.  Mr. Elliott’s preaching was valuable, full of truth, and most beautiful in composition.  I used to listen to it with great interest, and from it I first learnt the great and blessed doctrine of justification by faith, which I have had the privilege of preaching throughout my ministry.  I never can forget one sermon of his in which he pointed out that there were three great trials of Abraham’s faith: (1) His Call (Gen. xii.); (2) The Promise given him (Gen. xv.); and (3) The Sacrifice of Isaac (Gen. xxii.).  He then pointed out that the first and last of these three trials involved immediate action, but that the middle one demanded no action at the time, but required simply a believing reception of the promise of God, and it was of it that the statement was made (Gen. xv. 6): “Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him for righteousness.”

There was a fresh blessing given me in St. Mary’s.  It was there one sacred day when Robert Daly, afterwards Bishop of Cashel, was preaching, that I was led by the Spirit of God to give myself up to the ministry.  I do not remember exactly what he said; but I am sure that a permanent impression may be often made without any distinct recollection always of what has been uttered.  So it was in my case, while that noble man was preaching; and I there and then gave myself up to the ministry of God, as I told him many years afterwards.  I said nothing about it to anybody for a year, because I wished my determination to be thoroughly tested.  At the end of the year I told my father.  He informed me that there was a place open for me in his Bank, but at the same time he gave his cordial approbation; and so with his full consent and that of my dearest mother, I regarded myself from that day as one set apart to the sacred ministry.  That must have been nearly sixty years ago, and never for one moment have I had reason to regret the decision.

From Mrs. Hoare to her son at Brighton:—

“August 22nd, 1829.

“How continually have I thought of you, dearest Edward, since you left us, with the truest pleasure and I hope thankfulness for the happy time we have passed together, with the greatest interest in your present settlement and earnest desire and prayer for your well-doing in future!  You have, my love, gained the confidence and excited the sanguine hopes of your parents, and if you do not turn out the decided, noble, upright, and effective Christian character, we shall be disappointed.  I consider the present juncture in your life very important.  The more I consider the case, the more I am sure of Mr. Elliott’s intrinsic value to you, and the more I am convinced of the wisdom of giving up yourself in the present to his wishes; if you secure his friendship, you secure a treasure for life.  In this as in every situation, you will have something to bear.

“1.  Don’t stand on your own rights too much or be tenacious in little things.

“2.  Be very slow in taking offence or fancying any disrespect or want of favour is shown to you.

“3.  Never complain of anything to your companions.

“4.  Encourage a spirit of content, and be determined (there is much in this determination of mind) to be comfortable.

“5.  Promote, as far as possible, the pleasure of your companions by yielding in little things.  I believe, dearest Edward, you are sensible that, to act with true wisdom, we must seek this precious gift from above, and day by day ask for help and strength and grace for the day.

“6.  Write to me intimately, and the letters may be entirely private whenever you wish it.

“The books could not be despatched at once.  Sam says the Shakespeare is a bad bargain, but we will talk it over again—oh how I should enjoy a half-hour with thee over this nice library fire!”

Early Letters.

There are some interesting letters of this period, which have been carefully preserved.  The earliest of these, written when he was eleven years old, is characteristic.  It is addressed to his mother, who was away from home, and begins with an apology for not having sent her a letter before: this is based upon an accident at cricket, which he describes graphically, the ball “ascending to a great height” having fallen upon his thumb and so disabled him, etc., etc.; but the pathetic narrative is followed by a burst of honesty—“however, as that happened only yesterday it is not much of an excuse”!  Another, a year later, written from Ryde, after describing a boating and fishing expedition, relates further a conversation with the boatman, whom they saw doing something to the dogfish that they had caught.  “He replied” (and here the young scribe phonetically renders the local pronunciation), “‘O Lar, I’m only tormenting ’em.’  We asked, ‘Why?’  ‘Because ’em has a pisonous prick on ’em’s back.’   We asked him how they could help that.  ‘Oh, I knows ’em needn’t have it if ’em didna like!’”

The letters that follow were written from Brighton, and describe his arrival at Mr. Elliott’s house, and sundry events that took place from time to time; they are full of affection to his mother, and abound likewise in touches of humour, but they show also a diligence and steadiness of purpose, and a liking for good things, remarkable in a boy of that age.  Subjoined are a few extracts as specimens:—

“I suppose Jack told you of the famous hunt we had the other day when we were going out riding and met the hounds, half by accident?  We had a run of above an hour, and the hounds were in full cry all the time; but, alas! the other day a bill came in from the horse-keeper, which informed us that we were to pay a pound for each of the horses because we had been with the hounds. . . .  I like Abercorn [15] very much, but he is