Mr. Philips, having expressed satisfaction on behalf of the congregation, offered him in their name the right hand of fellowship; and then followed an excellent charge from the venerable C. Wellbeloved, in which he states it as the minister's first duty to lead the devotions of the congregation; as a preacher, he is to point out "the whole duty of man." “You know, my young friend and brother, that controversial preaching receives no commendation from me. I cannot consider it as wise, or proper, that a Christian preacher should be perpetually or frequently combating opinions which his hearers have never held, or have abjured, and labouring to defend those which they cordially receive. . . . Discourses of this nature do not appear to me very favourable to genuine humility and Christian charity." He exhorts him to study to show himself " approved unto God." "What your conscience dictates, you will speak and do, regardless both of the censure and the applause of the world."

After a hymn the hymns were beautifully sung, to simple tunes-the Rev. J. J. Tayler addressed the congregation. He warned those who valued their own freedom not to erect a standard of orthodoxy; and ended with reminding them that "the best fruits of the human heart and character will only ripen in the warm and genial atmosphere of mutual love and confidence." Their minister was young and inexperienced. "Concede to him freedom of thought and honesty of speech. Do not demand from him too soon the caution and reserve— the cold maturity of judgment-which only years and experience bestow. Wait for the natural effects of age on a young and sanguine mind. . . . Require from him devotedness to duty, seriousness of spirit, and a deep concern for the moral and spiritual interests of the human race; but do not tie him down in the pursuit of these objects." Then Mr. Robberds, after a touching address, gave his young brother the right hand of fellowship, in the name of the assembled ministers. There was hardly a dry eye in the chapel. Philip wrote: "I could not restrain my emotion at the morning service. At any rate, it is better than seeming unmoved. All these ministers were much affected: they all made such beau

tiful allusions to my father. It was deeply impressive, and all seemed to think it so; in most parts, there was quite a breathless attention. They are very anxious to print: I damp a little; but it does not answer to throw quite cold water on a red-hot plate—it only makes it spurt up." In the evening there was a crowded tea-meeting, and 280 persons, comprising members of the various Denominations in the neighbourhood, besides Unitarians from other congregations, afterwards listened to addresses in the chapel. Such a gathering warmed the hearts of the people, and they often spoke of that "happy day."

On the following Sunday, he deepened the impression by an earnest sermon on “The harvest plenteous; the labourers few." He records, "Call for Sunday-school teachers responded to by thirty-one names. Made mistakes, which shows I must be very careful; but very warm, and I hope warmed others." He wrote home: "The old folk who used to teach the school are delighted at the prospect of a revival." He soon reports that he has commenced a class at the Sunday school, to study his father's "Harmony of the Gospels." There were seventeen classes, and the congregation showed their interest in it; but the room was "shockingly wet and unhealthy," the floor being below the level of the ground. Travers Madge was very helpful. He called on the children and sat up with them at chapel. "I always consider him as 'the incarnation of the absent-friend element' (to use one of J. J. T.'s phrases) at the Lord's Supper, and he does me great good in telling me my faults. I could not have imagined that a year's acquaintance could have made us so very brotherly. I stayed in school yesterday with the children, as there is not time to get back by half-past one on Lord Supper Sundays; and I forgot almost all my dinner, in my zeal for reading them stories to keep them something like half-quiet. There are about forty who come from a distance, and bring their dinners with them, which are 'as various as the moon,' from a raw carrot to an apple-puff." In the afternoon he began to preach extempore. "The people certainly prick up their ears when they see me put my watch on the pulpit-ledge, and not light the candles."

"The previous week," he says, November 8, "was one of the longest I ever remember, and was the beginning of my strictly pastoral labours. I could not retrace it, if it were not that I keep a regular journal. The case which occupied almost all my thoughts was that of a young man of my congregation, who has ruined his health by drinking. Everybody, including the surgeon, says I shall do him no good. However, I must try, though I almost believe them. I certainly never saw anything so perfectly filthy and comfortless as his bedroom was; the kitchen was a little, but not much, better. The first visit was occupied in showing that I took an interest in him. . . . Next time we got to teetotalism, and he asked me most minute questions-how I managed when I went out and people laughed at me, showing that he was thinking of it. . . . His case has caused me a great deal of thought, partly from its importance, and partly from its being quite new to me. It has made me very unhappy; and I confess that I am always glad to have done my visit and washed my hands. I shall go on seeing him every day, and don't let myself despond; though I have not much hope." This little hope was lessened when he learnt the young man's history from his relatives at Manchester. He found that he could not permanently reform him; but "his prayer returned to his own bosom," and thenceforth he entered on a cause to which he was "faithful unto death." He had already become an abstainer, though he kept a little wine for his friends; but in his pledge-book his own name stands first, with the date-December 1, 1841. He was now bound "not to give or offer [intoxicants] to others;" and he wrote home to decline a present of wine which was intended for him. In the temperate circle in which he had lived, he had not realized the hold which drinking customs have on the professors of religion; and he was horrified to find "that the choir at Stand were in the habit of having a regular bout after service, in the school-room, at the expense of the collection on charity Sundays; and at the yearly congregational teameeting, after tea, beer, wine, and spirits were brought in. . . . I have moved as an amendment, for the charity sermon, that there

should be tea provided for the singers, and that we should not invite others, but trust to our own strength; so if they choose to come of their own accord, they cannot complain of being deprived of their rights." He found that, in a Sunday school of the district, ten teachers left in anger when their drink was withheld ! "This makes me feel more the pleasing nature of the Stand people, who seem very ready to make improvements."

Having just published the Memoir of my father, I had the happiness of spending about three months with Philip at this time; supplying pulpits in his neighbourhood, before settling with a congregation. I heard Mr. Hockings, the eloquent "Birmingham blacksmith," and had the need of teetotal societies so vividly brought before me, that I soon followed Philip's example; and our sisters and brother subsequently helped the temperance cause: but he was our leader, and his determination and zeal were the strongest. Philip's earnest and affectionate piety—he believed in prayer with all his heart—and his ardour in well-doing, were a great stimulus to one who witnessed it day by day. There was no lack of cheerfulness and fun. I noticed that he often could not quite understand the Lancashire dialect, in which many of his people addressed him (though he afterwards got very familiar with it), and he had to learn their usages and modes of expression, some of which much amused him. In one of his "Poz. papers" he describes how, when he asked some of them to tea, they replied, "Wha's coming too, then? Well, perhaps I may drop in; but I won't promise." He afterwards set this to music, as a catch :—

He wrote to me soon after-"I am disgracefully happy; contented, but not without a relish for better things."

At this time there was a great deal of distress and discontent in the manufacturing districts. A fellow-student, who was then minister at Chowbent, said that forty thousand pikes had been distributed in his neighbourhood. The Chartists sought their political remedy, while others were earnestly striving against the Corn-laws. Philip preached extempore on "The ends, causes, and duties of the present distress." He chose a striking text: Isaiah viii. 21, “It shall come to pass, that when they shall be hungry, they shall fret themselves, and curse their king and their God." The next Sunday, a petition which he had prepared, referring to the injurious effect of the Corn-laws on the moral and intellectual condition of the people, was read from the pulpit. Seeing the connexion of sin and misery, he was not so sanguine as some of his friends as to the happiness which Free Trade would produce; and he relates the pain he felt when, at a religious meeting at Cockey Moor, the reference to commercial as well as civil and religious liberty opened the way to some stormy declamation. "The ministers,

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most of whom I had never seen before, welcomed me cordially, and all seemed to have some particular remembrance of my father's kindness." He had engaged to speak on plans for the spread of Christian truth, but the chairman introduced the word Unitarian. He begged, however, to speak on topics on which all Christians could agree. "I began by thanking them for the warm manner in which they had received me as my father's son; said that wherever I went it was the same, for his sake that I was glad of an opportunity of connecting his name with this sentiment, as, though he would probably be known to most as a controversialist, it was his great delight to spread the true spirit of Christianity." Philip occasionally, but rarely, entered on doctrinal questions in the pulpit; and when he did, he had no pleasure in recording the presence of strangers: there were often many there. On his first Trinity Sunday, he referred to the rubric directing the omission of the words "Holy Father," on that day, in the Communion Service of the Church of England.