[4] The manuscript was kindly lent to the author for this purpose by the family of the late Mr. Toller. I have been this last week to assist in depositing in the dust one of the most amiable and excellent of men. There was not one friend present, I believe, but felt the weight of his worth, when his remains were let down into the silent grave, not excepting the clergyman who buried him--who, in a room full of Dissenting ministers, bore the most explicit and honourable testimony to his name. But there was a sense in which the person who now addresses you might, perhaps, with more propriety than any individual there, adopt and apply the peculiar language of the distressed prophet, "My father, my father!" I felt, when I stood by his grave, that I had lost a father--that I was interring a father; for I always looked up to him, and venerated and loved him, as a parent; for truly he had been a father to me. I was his senior student: the last and most important year of my academical course I spent under his roof and tuition: he taught and treated me as a son. It was owing to his advice, under God, that I am this day standing in this pulpit; his decided opinion had more weight with me than that of everybody else. I did always implicitly confide in his judgment. I was sure of his prudence; could entirely trust his fidelity. On a hundred occasions have I experienced his tenderness and his kindness, and, blessed be God! never did I receive in all my intercourse a frown from him; while a hint, by way of reproof, from him, would have had more weight and gone further into my heart than a hundred stripes from another hand. And during all the thirty-four years which have elapsed since I left his roof, I have always secretly considered him as my principal, standing, stable friend, to whose judgment and kindness I could with most confidence look under any particular difficulty, exigency, or perplexity; so that you may suppose, under these circumstances, in connexion with the thought of having buried the greater part of the friends of my youth--you must suppose that, in attending such a funeral, I must have felt very peculiar sensations; that I was burying a friend indeed: I will not say the nearest and dearest by the ties of nature, for that is not true; but my most valuable, confidential, intellectual, religious, particular friend. But not only were these sentiments excited by my own personal feeling; they were strengthened by the unanimous testimony of all who had any thorough intimacy with him--any comprehensive knowledge of his qualifications and character. I believe, never did any man go down to the grave followed by more genuine sentiments of respect from those that knew him, and were capable of appreciating his real worth.