Before noticing my entrance into college, I may be allowed to mention that the congregation which I joined contained some noteworthy people. Mr. William Youngman was a hard-headed, intelligent, and inquisitive man, much given to theological argument and incisive criticism of current opinions. He tried the patience of orthodox religionists, and was the terror of neophytes. Once, when I dined with him, he commenced talking about original sin as I was hanging up my hat, and went on in the same strain to the end of my visit. He found his match at book meetings in Mr. Thomas Brightwell, F.R.S., an eminent naturalist, whose name is perpetuated in a memoir of a plant called after him, to be found, if I correctly remember, in the Transactions of the Royal Society. He was a diligent student of the Bible, and published notes on the Old Testament, drawn chiefly from the Scholia of Rosenmuller and Michaelis. In 1828 I entered Highbury College, afterwards merged in New College, St. John’s Wood; the professors—or tutors as they were called in my time—being Dr. Henderson, Dr. Burder, and Dr. Halley. Dr. Henderson had been engaged in foreign missionary and Bible work, spending much time in St. Petersburg, Copenhagen, and Stockholm, where he became acquainted with the languages of Northern Europe. He drilled us in the languages of the Old Testament, initiated some small study in Syriac, and delivered elaborate lectures on the evidences and doctrines of Christianity. He suggested essays to be written during the vacation on subjects demanding research, and he regularly required the careful preparation of comments on the original Scriptures, to be delivered _viva voce_ in class. Dr. Burder was son of George Burder, once well known as the author of “Village Sermons.” He lectured on mental and moral philosophy, and employed as text-books the works of Reid, Stewart, and Brown having himself graduated in a Scotch university. Exceedingly careful, conscientious, and precise, he opposed all bold speculations, and was incapable of sympathy with mystical thinkers. He had a clear apprehension of whatever he taught, and used to lay down as a canon of composition. “Express yourselves, not so that you _may_, but so that you _must_ be understood.” Dr. Halley was a good classical scholar, impulsive, unsystematic, and by no means a severe disciplinarian. He enthusiastically admired Demosthenes and Cicero, and to hear him give extempore versions of these orators was an immense treat. We read with him some Greek tragedians and Latin poets, and he delivered lectures on history and antiquities. Mathematics came within his department; but, certainly in my time, he never turned out a wrangler. His influence, however, was very stimulative, and he inspired when he did not instruct.