silence; but when I rose to take my leave, she bade me good-bye with unmistakable evidences of interest in my welfare, and said, as she held me by the hand, "I hope we shall meet you in heaven." I had one or two other interviews with Mr. Lawson at a somewhat later period, and all are to be placed among the means by which I was brought to my present happy position.

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9. A few years before this I had a public discussion with the Rev. Charles Williams, Baptist minister, of Accrington. It was a very unpleasant affair. I was much exhausted at the time with over much work, and with long-continued and painful excitement caused by a very unpleasant piece of business which I had in hand; and I did what I honourably could to avoid the discussion. My friends, however, would have no nay, and I reluctantly, and in anything but an amiable temper, made my appearance at the time appointed on the platform. How far the blame was chargeable on me, or how far it was chargeable on others, I do not know; but the first night's meeting was a very disagreeable one. thought myself in the right at the time, but I fancy my unhappy state of mind must have rendered me very provoking, and at the same time blinded me to the real character of my proceedings. On the following night the discussion went on more smoothly, and it ended better than it began. I was constrained to regard Mr. Williams as an able and good man. I met him occasionally after my separation from the Secularists, and his behaviour and spirit deepened the favourable impression of his character already made on my mind. While I was at Burnley he delivered a lecture in that town on Bishop Colenso's work on the Pentateuch. I was present. When he had done, he invited me in the kindest way imaginable to speak. I had heard next to nothing in the lecture to which I could object, but much that I could heartily approve and applaud. To all that he had said in praise of the Bible I could subscribe most heartily. Indeed, I felt that the Bible was worthy of more and higher praise than he had bestowed on it, and I expressed myself to that effect. The meeting altogether was a very pleasant one, except to a number of unbelievers, who were opposed to my remarks in commendation of the

Bible. I saw Mr. Williams repeatedly at a later period, and his kind and interesting conversation, and his very gentlemanly and Christian demeanour, had always a beneficial effect on my mind.

10. One of the first to express a conviction that I should become a Christian was an American lady whom I sometimes saw in London. She had herself been' an unbeliever, but had been cured of her scepticism by spiritualism. She was then a Catholic. She gave me a medal of the Virgin Mary, and entreated me to wear it round my neck. To please her I promised to do so. But the medal disappeared before long, and what became of it I never could tell; but my friend had the satisfaction to see her prophecy fulfilled in my happy return to Christianity.

II. An acquaintance which I formed with the Rev. W. Newton, of Newcastle-on-Tyne, must also be reckoned among the things which exerted an influence on my mind favourable to Christianity. Mr. Newton had been a Baptist in his earlier days, but getting into perplexity with regard to certain doctrines, he became an Unitarian. He came to feel, however, in course of time, that something more than Unitarianism was necessary to the satisfaction of his soul, and to the salvation of the world; and at the time that I became acquainted with him, he had made up his mind to leave the Unitarians. On my way into the far-off region of unbelief, I had passed through Unitarian territory; and I passed through the same territory, or near to its border, on my return to Christianity; and had it not been for my interviews with Mr. Newton, and a somewhat startling event or two that occurred about that period, I might have lingered for a time in that cold and hungry land. Mr. Newton helped to quicken my steps, and I moved onward, and rested not, till I found my way back to the paradise of my earlier days.

12. Mr. J. Potts, like Mr. J. Mawson, without following me into the extremes of doubt, retained his friendship for me through all my wanderings, and never neglected any opportunity he had of showing me kindness. And others, whom I cannot take the liberty to name, evinced the same unfailing constancy of esteem and love. And

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the unbroken connection that remained between my enduring friends and their families and myself added to the attractions Christward, and made it easier for my soul to return at last to its home of peace and rest.

13. Between eight and nine years ago, while living in London, I became acquainted with Mr. W. White. He had been reared a Quaker, but like most hard thinkers, had had experience of doubt, and was, in consequence, after his faith was re-established, able to strengthen his doubting brethren. He contributed to my conversion, first by his enlightened conversation, and then by a long, kind, Christian and philosophic letter on the Bible, by which he helped me over a number of difficulties which stood in the way of my faith. I am sorry I cannot publish his letter. It deserves to be generally read.

14. But perhaps none of the parties have named had so powerful and beneficial an effect on my mind as one whom I have not yet mentioned. If I had been asked seven or eight years ago, whether I supposed there was any minister in the Methodist New Connexion who regarded me with affectionate solicitude, and who was wishful for an opportunity to speak to me words of love and tenderness, I should have said, "No." If any one had told me that there really was one of my old associates, with whom I had formerly had warm controversy, not only on matters theological, but on matters personal, who had been watching my career for years with the deepest interest, and who for months or years had been earnestly praying for me every day, he would have seemed to me as one amusing himself with fables. Yet such was really the case.

With no one had I come in closer contact perhaps, or in more frequent and violent collision, than the Rev. W. Cooke, now Dr. Cooke. He had taken the lead in the proceedings against me in the Ashton Conference, on account of my article on Toleration, Human Creeds, &c., proceedings which had a very unhappy effect on my mind, and which led, at length, to my separation from the Church, and to my alienation from Christ. He had taken an active part in the controversies which followed my expulsion from the ministry. We had, at a later period, spent ten nights in public discussion on the

leading doctrines of Christianity. He had, in the performance of what he considered his duty in my case, said things which had tried me terribly; and I, with ideas of duty differing from his, had made him very liberal returns, in a way not calculated to leave the most favourable or comfortable impressions on his mind towards me. I had never seen him since our long discussion but once, and then he seemed, to my fancy, to be struggling with an inward tempest of very unhappy feeling, which he was hardly able to keep from exploding. I afterwards found that I had not interpreted his looks on this occasion correctly. At the time when I took my leave of the Secularists, my unpleasant feeling towards my old opponent had subsided; but I had no idea that his unpleasant feelings towards me had passed away. Yet such was the case. He had been reading my periodical for some time, and had been pleased to find that both on religion and politics I was returning, though slowly, to the views of my happier days. Some time in August, 1862, he called at my office in London with a parcel of books under his arm. He had been praying for me daily for twelve months, when something seemed to say to him, "You should do something more than pray ;" and now he had come to try what he could do to aid the wanderer's return to Christ. I was from home at the time, but my eldest son was in the office, and he and the doctor were at once engaged in friendly conversation. "How like you are to what your father was four-and-thirty years ago, when I first knew him," said the doctor. "Your father and I were great friends. It was your father that first directed me to the study of Latin and Greek, which have been of great service to me; and I feel indebted to him on that account. We were afterwards separated. But I have observed, as I think, symptoms that your father is returning towards his former views." And many other kind remarks he made. At length he said, "Do you think your father would accept a copy of my works ?" My son, who knew the state of his father's mind, answered: "I am sure he would, with great pleasure." The doctor left me copies of his works, kindly inscribed to me with his own hand; and with the books, he left for me a kind and Christian

letter. My son lost no time in forwarding me the letter, together with an account of the pleasant but unlookedfor interview which he had had with the writer. I received the letter, and the interesting story with which it was accompanied, with the greatest astonishment and pleasure. I wrote to the doctor reciprocating his expressions of kindness, and making the best returns I could for the valuable present of his works. The result was a correspondence, which has continued to the present time. The correspondence led to interviews, in which the doctor exhibited all the graces and virtues that adorn the Christian gentleman. We talked, we read, we sang, we prayed together, and gave God thanks, with tears of gratitude, for all the blessings of His boundless love.

The effect of this kindness on the part of Dr. Cooke was, not only to free my mind from any remains of hurtful feeling, but to dispose me, and enable me, to review the claims of Christianity and the Bible in a spirit of fairness and candour, and so to make it possible for me to become, what I had long believed I never could become, a hearty believer in the religion of Christ.

SOME OF THE STEPS BY WHICH I CAME TO FAITH

IN CHRIST.

I am not certain that I can state the exact process by which I passed from doubt and unbelief to faith in Christ, but the following I believe is very near the truth.

1. There was, first, a sense of the cheerlessness of unbelief-the sadness and the sorrow resulting from the loss of trust in God, and hope of immortality, and from the wretched prospect of a return to utter nothingness.

2. Then came the distressing feeling of inability to comfort my afflicted or dying friends-my utter helplessness in the presence of grief and agony.

3. And then I found myself unable to account for the wonderful marks of design appearing in nature, and especially in my own body, without the acknowledgment of an intelligent Deity. The wonderful perfection and beauty of a flower or a feather would confound me; while mysterious adaptations in my own frame would fill me with amazement. Darwin's theory of develop