At Liverpool, my first station, every one on whom the preachers called in their pastoral rounds, asked them to drink. Even Dr. Raffles, the popular Congregational minister, had wine and cakes brought out, when I and my superintendent called on him one morning. Wine and cakes, or cakes and spirits, were placed on the table by all who were not too poor to buy such things, and even the poorer members contrived to supply themselves with rum or whisky. And all expected the preachers to drink. And the preachers did drink. Mr. Allin, my superintendent, was not by far the greatest drinker in the Connexion, yet he seldom allowed the poison placed before him to remain untasted. I was so organized, that I never could drink a full glass of either wine or ale without feeling more or less intoxicated, and for spirits I had quite a distaste; so that I was obliged to take intoxicating drinks very sparingly. Yet I conformed, to some extent, to the prevailing custom; and it was not, I fear, through any great goodness of my own, that I did not become a drunkard. Several of my fellow-ministers became drunkards. Mr. Allin himself, after he fell under the influence of that bad rich man at Sheffield became a drunkard, and brought on shocks of paralysis by his excesses. My superintendent at Sheffield drank himself into _delirium tremens_, and I fear he never got over his bad habits. Mr. Chapman was a notorious sot. I knew him personally, and was compelled, at times, to witness his disgusting habits. Yet he was never expelled, though he was superannuated some forty years or more before his death. His superannuation reduced his income some seventy-five per cent., and made it impossible for him to drink so freely as he had been wont, and so, very probably, helped to prolong his miserable life.