Among other exhibitions, I remember seeing General Tom Thumb and Minnie Warren with their troop of midget humanity, performing at St. James's Hall. Cremorne Gardens and Highbury Barn were at this time at the height of their popularity, and although from where I lived it meant a night out to visit the former, the latter was within walking distance. I wanted to see everything possible, and I think so far I succeeded, for my wanderings were varied from the top of St. Paul's Cathedral and the Monument to the Cider Cellars in the Strand and to Nicholson's Judge and Jury and the Poesie Plastics of Leicester Square. Living as I did at this time in the north of London, I frequently walked through Highbury to what is now the beautiful Finsbury Park. The New River was then an open stream beside which it was pleasant to walk. On passing through a wicket-gate, one came to a building called the Sluice House, at which refreshments could be procured. A path through a field took us to Finsbury Park Tavern on the site of which the refreshment houses in Finsbury Park now stand. Boats were let out for hire on the lake, and pigeon shooting was one of the sports carried on in the grounds. Many times have I seen a considerable number of these injured innocents brought down. This sport, I am pleased to think, is not so popular now as it was at that period. It was, I suppose, somewhat natural to a young man who has been brought up in a very puritanical atmosphere and among the strictest sect of the Pharisees, to take every advantage of the liberty I was now enjoying. I was anxious, however, to see and hear some of the preachers of whom I had heard so much. This attraction, however, soon died away, because to an extent I found no sympathy. The first great preacher I went to hear was the Rev. C.H. Spurgeon. Unfortunately my impression of him was a bad one, for he had just given out his text when several people walked into the chapel. The preacher stopped and looked hard at the people entering. When they were seated, he said, "We are sorry we could not wait for you, but you will be in time to go away with the rest." I thought this a most unkind and uncalled-for remark, and made up my mind I would never hear him again, and I did not. Another incident, I suppose I must call it, or eccentricity, occurred at the only time I heard Dr. Parker at the City Temple. Before beginning his sermon he waited a few minutes and then said, "We are not feeling quite well this evening, so shall dispense with our usual action." To me, this was nothing but unnecessary egotism.