priceless value; but under some circumstances so is liturgical service. Attempts amongst Dissenters in the latter direction, I am aware, have in some instances failed, owing largely to prejudices handed down through past generations; until those prejudices melt away—some day perhaps they will—an alteration, such as to others like myself, seems quite hopeless. {233} In the years 1874 and 1875, I took part in commemoration of two world-known Nonconformist celebrations. The first was the unveiling of Bunyan’s statue at Bedford. I went down with the Dean of Westminster, Lady Augusta Stanley, and Dr. Allon, who all did wisely and well the parts allotted them. Her Ladyship gracefully unveiled the bronze figure of the wonderful dreamer; and her husband uttered immediately afterwards the following effective words:—“The Mayor has called upon me to say a few words, and I shall obey him. The Mayor has done _his_ work, the Duke of Bedford has done his,” (he gave the statue,) “and now I ask you to do yours, in commemorating John Bunyan. Every one who has not read the ‘Pilgrim’s Progress,’ if there be any such person, read it without delay; those who have read it a hundred times, read it for the hundred and first time. Follow out in your lives the lessons which the ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’ teaches; and then you will all of you be even better monuments of John Bunyan, than the magnificent statue which the Duke of Bedford has given you.” The Dean and Dr. Allon delivered elaborate addresses at the Corn Exchange, and it was allotted to me, to propose, after a public dinner, “The Memory of John Bunyan.” The thought struck me, that his genius was equally imaginative and realistic. People rise from reading his dream, with impressions of character, as lively as those derived from perusing Shakespeare or Scott. They see in his delineations just such folks as walked the streets of Bedford, and plodded through Midland country lanes, two hundred years ago. I heard gentlemen at table say they thought Bunyan took his conceptions of scenery from neighbouring places. But I said I did not think so. He had never beheld hills like “the Delectable Mountain,” nor a vale or plain like that of “Beulah.” In fact, he took his scenery from Scripture, and gave it reality by allusions such as we employ, when touching on objects of every-day life. He was “Christian,” “Evangelist,” “Greatheart,” all in one—a pilgrim to the Heavenly City and a preacher of the Gospel. I may here add that two years afterwards brazen doors were given to Bunyan meeting by the Duke, and were opened with due solemnities, the Mayor and Corporation attending on the occasion.