In connection with my early residence at Kensington I may mention a circumstance which interested me. I observed several times, sitting near my pulpit, an old gentleman. Upon inquiry, I found it was the Rev. Michael Maurice, father to the Rev. F. D. Maurice, then at the height of his influence as author and preacher. I never had the pleasure of conversing with my venerable hearer, but I learned from different sources much relative to his character and career. Though descended from a thoroughly orthodox family, he was educated for the ministry under Dr. Abraham Rees, Dr. Kippis and Dr. Savage—the first two being Arian divines, and the last a moderate Calvinist. He became afternoon preacher at Dr. Priestley’s Meeting House; and after officiating in other Unitarian places of worship, retired from pulpit work altogether. But he habitually associated with orthodox Nonconformists during the time he lived at Southampton. He also joined the British and Foreign Bible Society, and spoke for it on the platform. I wondered he should worship in Hornton Street, but information subsequently obtained served to explain the circumstance. He appears to have been a devout man with a large measure of Evangelical feeling. I mention him as a type of no inconsiderable class of sincerely religious people. I knew but little of his distinguished son, only having met him a few times at Dean Stanley’s, and at Baldwin Brown’s. I used sometimes, on a Sunday afternoon, to hear Mr. Maurice preach at Lincoln’s Inn, and was much struck with the earnestness with which he repeated the Lord’s Prayer. The difficulty he felt in making himself understood is amusing. Some of the principles, he said, which his friends attacked, were those he strongly objected to himself, and those which they held as against him, were just those on which he rested his own faith and hope. “I could not make them the least understand what I meant,” he went on to say; “and if I did they would only dislike me for it.” It was not obscurity of style, as many thought, which made him unintelligible; but obscurity or confusion of thought arising from complexity of perception. He saw so much that it puzzled him how to express it. I respected him greatly as an honest thinker, more anxious to commend himself to the Searcher of hearts than to his fellow-men.