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
I suppose 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 favorable 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 towards me,
which he was hardly able to keep from exploding. I afterwards found
though, that I had not interpreted his looks on this occasion correctly.
At the time when I took my leave of the Secularists, my unpleasant
feelings towards my old opponent had about 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 by a personal interview 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 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 ac