In 1860 Faraday became once more an elder in the Sandemanian Church, and retained that office for nearly four years, when he finally resigned it. The meeting of the British Association was held in this year at Oxford, and Faraday was once more present, as he liked to be, at this scientific gathering. A friend, apropos of this visit, wrote the following _jeu d'esprit_, which is worth remembering-- "'That P will change to F in the British tongue is true (Quoth Professor Phillips), though the instances are few.' An entry in my journal then I ventured thus to parody, 'I this day dined with Fillips, where I hobbed and nobbed with Pharaday.'" [Illustration: FARADAY DELIVERING HIS CHRISTMAS JUVENILE LECTURES.] This same year is also notable as being the nineteenth, and last, in which Faraday delivered the Christmas Juvenile Lectures; for ten years in succession he had given them, the four lectures of this, his final course, being those well known and generally appreciated ones upon "The Chemical History of a Candle." An earlier course having been given some years before on the same subject. His failing health and memory made it necessary for him to discontinue much of his work, and in the following year his last experimental work was done, and (on June 20) his last Friday evening lecture delivered. A touching and pathetic interest attaches to the slight notes which he made for this, his last lecture. The notes are brief--but yet how much is there not expressed in them? "Personal explanation--years of happiness here, but time of retirement; LOSS OF MEMORY and _physical endurance of the brain_. "1. Causes--_hesitation and uncertainty_ of the convictions which the speaker has to urge. "2. _Inability to draw_ upon the mind for the treasures of knowledge it has previously received. "3. _Dimness_, and forgetfulness of one's former _self-standard_ in respect of _right_, _dignity_, and _self-respect_. "4. Strong duty of _doing justice to others_, yet inability to do so. "_Retire._" Thus did the old man of seventy years touchingly bid farewell to work which he had been carrying on for the greater part of half a century--to that work which had received from him the untiring devotion of a life-time. In 1862 his memory, which had previously troubled him, became even less trustworthy; though his cheerfulness, faith, and innate optimism were never clouded for a moment, as is well-shown in a letter which he wrote to the wife of his old friend Barlow. "I called at your house," Faraday wrote, "and I rejoice to think that your absence is a sign of good health. _Our love to you both._ I am enjoying the gradual decay of strength and life, for when I revive it is no great revival or desire to me, and that cheers me in the view of death near and round us."