“Having satisfied our minds that our general theory was correct, by a long course of experiments, and by the acquiescence of those who are so much interested in a careful, and even rigorous, examination of our plans, we have latterly proceeded without the trepidation which at first attended us at every step, and rendered the task of reducing the convictions of our minds to practice, a tedious and painful operation. We now feel our system to be sufficiently matured for public inspection—not that it is incapable of infinite improvement. We are far from pretending to a state of perfection; that we should belie daily by the changes which we still find it expedient to introduce. But there is a wide difference between alterations which proceed from the adoption of new principles, and those which are in furtherance of old ones. The latter will become gradually more and more minute, until they cease altogether to effect any of the important features.” We may once more be tempted to smile, as we read of the long course of experiments carried out by a young man who was but five-and-twenty. It is not, however, by years but by labour that life is rightly measured. Rowland Hill at a very early age had come into the only inheritance which he was ever to receive—man’s inheritance of labour and sorrow. He had seen, it is true, but five-and-twenty summers. Yet far distant must have seemed to him the time of childhood’s careless years. He had begun to labour early, and into every hour, into every day, into every year, he had got the work of two. How much he had already done is shown by one of his father’s letters to his brother Matthew, dated April 24th, 1823. Well-nigh broken down by work, the young man had gone up to London to seek rest by a change of scene:— “I hope change of place and your good company will be of service to our beloved Rowland. You are aware that his indisposition originates in his intense application to the business of the school, and I think it particularly excited by anything which draws hard upon his inventions; I therefore suggest that the discussion of new plans is not a desirable subject of conversation.... I most ardently wish that the dear lad could reflect more on the much that is effected than on the little that may remain in the state of a desideratum. If we can maintain our present position—and surely it is far easier to preserve than to gain—if we can do this, we have enough to make us very proud and very happy. I do hope that improvements will for awhile be entrusted to that quiet operation of time and experience which will slightly tax the mental powers of one who has done a life’s work in less than half the years he may fairly hope to pass in usefulness, and who must not be suffered to be worn out prematurely.”