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It is a common practice amongst remarkable men to leave on record some of the circumstances which have led to the formation of the leading features of their character.

But as the greater part of mankind is not remarkable, I think it just possible that some may be interested, and possibly some profited, by a few details of the life of one whose life has not been marked by incident so much as by abundant mercy, who has been led on step by step in the happy life of a parochial clergyman, and who at the close of it can say with reference to the past, "Surely goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life," and can add with reference to the future the blessed hope and determination of David, "I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."

Of all the many mercies of my life the one that must ever stand first and foremost is the gift of my beloved father and mother. No words can describe the blessing of such parents, and I never can look back on the unspeakable privilege of such a parentage without adoring the sovereign grace which placed me under their parental care. When I observe the carelessness of some parents, the inefficiency of others, and the terrible training for evil to which I see multitudes of poor children exposed, I can only adore the sovereignty of God which on June 5th, 1812, committed me as a sacred trust to the very best of parents.

My father, Samuel Hoare, was a banker in the City. Both he and my mother, Louisa Hoare, had been brought up in the Society of Friends, and had not formally left it at the time of my birth, so that I was registered by that body, and at the time of my ordination I had to apply to the Westminster Meeting for a certificate of my birth. But they were both greatly influenced by the ministry of some devoted Evangelical clergymen, such as the Rev. E. Edwardes of Lynn, and the Rev. Josiah Pratt, and I believe it was very soon after my birth that they were together baptised. We young people were therefore all brought up as members of the Church of England, though, as my father never completely lost his early Quaker prejudice against infant baptism, we were not baptised till about the age of fifteen, when we were considered able to judge for ourselves.

But though there were great disadvantages in our home education, there were also immense advantages. It was not so effective as my dear parents hoped it would be in preserving us from impure and defiling information, and to this day I rarely pass the back door of what used to be my grandmother's house without a sense of loathing at the wickedness of her corrupt old butler, who on that spot did his utmost to pollute my boyish mind with filthy communication.

Once a week, on the day of his holiday from the Bank, he used habitually to visit the schoolroom, and hear us repeat what we had learned during the week; and every Sunday afternoon he used to read with us some good religious book. I fear sometimes one at least of his pupils greatly tried his patience by supineness and inattention, but there were not then the same interesting books for young people that there are now, and such books as Wilberforce's "Practical View" or Doddridge's "Rise and Progress" were not calculated to attract the attention of a set of boys whose hearts were set on cricket.

Then my dearest mother was one of the most lovely women of the day. Beautiful in countenance, gentle in her manners, pure in her thoughts, and most loving in all her intercourse with her family, she exercised over us all a most sacred and refining influence, and one of the most abiding sorrows of my life has been that, when she was teaching me something, I was so negligent that I caused her to shed a tear.

Besides that, she had great intellectual charm. First-rate men such as Chalmers and Wilberforce delighted in her society. She was an excellent English writer. Her letters to her sons at College are perfect models of such compositions, and her admirable little book "Hints on Early Education," containing the principles on which she brought us up, continues to this day, passing through edition after edition, unsurpassed, if I may not say unequalled, by the many more modern efforts to throw light on that most important subject.

It is to her that I am indebted for my first intelligent acquaintance with the Gospel. She used to have us boys to read the Scripture with her every morning at 7.15. Nothing can ever efface the lovely impression made on those occasions. There she used to be by a bright fire in her little room, in her snow-white dressing-gown, looking as pure and lovely as was possible in woman. I fear we boys were often late and sometimes inattentive. But I never forget one morning when she asked me if I knew what faith was, and, finding that I was utterly ignorant, proceeded to teach me those sacred lessons of a Saviour's grace which have been life to my soul from that day till now. Oh, mothers! what an opportunity you have of sowing a seed which will never die!

Another great advantage in our home education was that we became interested in missionary work. Drawing-room meetings were not the fashion then as they are now, and my father and mother, without waiting for the fashion, threw open their large drawing-room to various devoted men. Thus we boys used to enjoy the no small privilege of becoming personally acquainted with many of the most devoted men of the day, as well as of being educated into an interest in missionary work.

But parental influence was not all, for one of the tutors engaged for our instruction was the Rev. R. Davis, of Queen's College, Cambridge, a devoted young man, and deeply interested in the Church Missionary Society. It was he that enlisted the interest of my father and mother, so that I find, in turning to the report for the year 1820, the following entry, which was the sum-total of the then Hampstead Association:--

Having been one of those few children, I remember well the interest that the subject excited in our minds; and as that interest never died out in those beloved ones now gone to their rest, and as I trust it will never do so in myself, I realise how much I owe to that young man, and I see how much may be done by a young man who carries with him wherever he goes the unceasing desire to be engaged in his Master's service.

The day of my baptism was a very solemn one, my cousin, the late Sir Edward Buxton, being baptised at the same time in St. Stephen's, Coleman's Street, and I think it was the next day that we left our homes together and went to Brighton, to enter upon a new mode of education. I cannot say how thankful I am that my father sent me to Mr. Elliott. He was a first-rate man in all respects, and he had been the means of kindling an intellectual fire in my eldest brother, who was passing through Cambridge at the time with high distinction. He had a faculty for inspiriting his pupils for work. I had been an idle boy until I went to him; but I had no sooner crossed his threshold than I felt an ambition for University distinction, and lost very little time when I was under his rule. As he took only six pupils there was the same difficulty that we found at home in getting good play, first-class cricket.

But there were other great advantages. There were some very choice lads amongst the pupils, one especially whom I can never forget--namely, Henry Goulburn. He was small in stature, but of marvellous ability: for quick perception, clear understanding, for never-failing memory, and a power of seeing through a subject, such as I never saw in any man. I shall never forget his influence when he first joined us as a pupil. There was at that time a good deal of quarrelling amongst us. There was one young fellow who was rich, but very foolish, who became the butt of his companions. I remember well one day, when Goulburn had just come amongst us, and we were all like a pack of hounds upon that young fellow, Goulburn got up from the table, walked round to him, and put his hand upon him, saying, "I will be your friend." That act of his had such a power over the whole party that similar unkindness entirely ceased. I never saw a repetition of it.

But, besides the pupils within the house, we had the immense advantage of the friendship of Mr. Elliott's mother and sisters, who lived close by. That mother was one of the most charming old ladies I ever remember. She was the daughter of Henry Venn, Rector of Yelling, the grandfather of the late Henry Venn, Secretary of the Church Missionary Society. She grew up amongst her father's friends, Berridge, Fletcher, and Simeon in his early days, and nothing could be more charming, more delightful, than her reminiscence of the early struggle of those devoted men. It wanted a good deal to draw me from the cricket field, but she had the power of doing it. I could not have had a greater treat than to listen for half-an-hour to her anecdotes.

Then again it was one of the privileges that we enjoyed at Brighton that we attended St. Mary's Church. Mr. Elliott's preaching was valuable, full of truth, and most beautiful in composition. I used to listen to it with great interest, and from it I first learnt the great and blessed doctrine of justification by faith, which I have had the privilege of preaching throughout my ministry. I never can forget one sermon of his in which he pointed out that there were three great trials of Abraham's faith: His Call ; The Promise given him ; and The Sacrifice of Isaac . He then pointed out that the first and last of these three trials involved immediate action, but that the middle one demanded no action at the time, but required simply a believing reception of the promise of God, and it was of it that the statement was made : "Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him for righteousness."

There was a fresh blessing given me in St. Mary's. It was there one sacred day when Robert Daly, afterwards Bishop of Cashel, was preaching, that I was led by the Spirit of God to give myself up to the ministry. I do not remember exactly what he said; but I am sure that a permanent impression may be often made without any distinct recollection always of what has been uttered. So it was in my case, while that noble man was preaching; and I there and then gave myself up to the ministry of God, as I told him many years afterwards. I said nothing about it to anybody for a year, because I wished my determination to be thoroughly tested. At the end of the year I told my father. He informed me that there was a place open for me in his Bank, but at the same time he gave his cordial approbation; and so with his full consent and that of my dearest mother, I regarded myself from that day as one set apart to the sacred ministry. That must have been nearly sixty years ago, and never for one moment have I had reason to regret the decision.

From Mrs. Hoare to her son at Brighton:--

"1. Don't stand on your own rights too much or be tenacious in little things.

"5. Promote, as far as possible, the pleasure of your companions by yielding in little things. I believe, dearest Edward, you are sensible that, to act with true wisdom, we must seek this precious gift from above, and day by day ask for help and strength and grace for the day.

"The books could not be despatched at once. Sam says the Shakespeare is a bad bargain, but we will talk it over again--oh how I should enjoy a half-hour with thee over this nice library fire!"

Early Letters.

There are some interesting letters of this period, which have been carefully preserved. The earliest of these, written when he was eleven years old, is characteristic. It is addressed to his mother, who was away from home, and begins with an apology for not having sent her a letter before: this is based upon an accident at cricket, which he describes graphically, the ball "ascending to a great height" having fallen upon his thumb and so disabled him, etc., etc.; but the pathetic narrative is followed by a burst of honesty--"however, as that happened only yesterday it is not much of an excuse"! Another, a year later, written from Ryde, after describing a boating and fishing expedition, relates further a conversation with the boatman, whom they saw doing something to the dogfish that they had caught. "He replied" , "'O Lar, I'm only tormenting 'em.' We asked, 'Why?' 'Because 'em has a pisonous prick on 'em's back.' We asked him how they could help that. 'Oh, I knows 'em needn't have it if 'em didna like!'"

The letters that follow were written from Brighton, and describe his arrival at Mr. Elliott's house, and sundry events that took place from time to time; they are full of affection to his mother, and abound likewise in touches of humour, but they show also a diligence and steadiness of purpose, and a liking for good things, remarkable in a boy of that age. Subjoined are a few extracts as specimens:--

"I suppose Jack told you of the famous hunt we had the other day when we were going out riding and met the hounds, half by accident? We had a run of above an hour, and the hounds were in full cry all the time; but, alas! the other day a bill came in from the horse-keeper, which informed us that we were to pay a pound for each of the horses because we had been with the hounds. . . . I like Abercorn very much, but he is excessively idle, as my shoulders will bear witness, as it is his great delight to get up and thump Ted Buxton and me on the shoulders; but fortunately he is tired of hitting me, as I repay the blows tenfold with a singlestick, and the consequence is that poor Ted gets double his former allowance."

"We have capital walks on the Downs almost every day, which are very pleasant, and capital exercise, as we go a considerable distance; the other day we went nearly to the Dyke. Before seven we three have delightful readings together--we have nearly done Matthew; at seven we come down and read till breakfast, and after that till two; we then go out for our walk till dinner. . . . On Thursday we are to have our debate about the battle of Navarino, in which I am going to be exceedingly eloquent--only there is one great barrier to my eloquence, which is that I can think of nothing to speak about. Robert and Jack are going to attack the battle; and Ted, Abercorn, and I are going to defend it. I think they have got much the best side."

This extract, written in a boyish hand, is dated February 19th, 1828. The next, on October 4th in the same year, is remarkable for its transition into the formed hand of the young man, and its resemblance to the writing of all his later years. He was then sixteen. The letter is full of manly thoughts, kind sympathy for some relatives in trouble, great thankfulness to God for restoring him to health after an illness, and then the schoolboy reappears towards the close as he longs for a share in the partridge-shooting which his father and elder brothers were enjoying at that time, and "the plumcake after church, and then the walk on the lighthouse hills" at Cromer, concerning which he winds up by saying: "I do not know two things that live so pleasantly in my mind. How far superior to all the strutting finery of Brighton!"

The letters written during his residence in Brighton show that Mr. Elliott, besides being a very kind tutor, had the gift of inspiring his pupils with great diligence and love for their work. The year 1830 was the last spent under his roof, and they testify to a great deal of hard reading, with the University constantly in view.

At the end of a letter dated "Brighton, September 20th, 1830," young Hoare writes:--

"I may tell you that this is the last letter you are ever likely to receive from me from Brighton. My two years and a half are now nearly come to a close; I am sure if I had time I ought and could write a long letter of gratitude to you and my father for having given me such opportunities of improvement. Oh that I had made full use of them! what a capital fellow I should be! At all events, of this I am quite certain, that if your sons turn out either rascals or blockheads , it can never be laid to your charge. And so, with regard to the course we are now likely to enter upon, I feel that every reason which ought to influence a person in the strongest degree binds me to read with thorough diligence and perseverance, and I only trust that I may be enabled to show my gratitude for your kindness by taking thorough advantage of it."

"O si sic omnes!" is the thought that rises to the mind after perusing these schoolboy letters; they contain the germs of all the characteristics that made Edward Hoare the power that he afterwards became--manliness, gentleness, remarkable diligence, reverence for religion and the Bible, a loving and thankful spirit, and, last but not least, a keen sense of the humorous side of things.

In the year 1830 I went to Trinity College, Cambridge, one of the finest places for education. My dear brother Gurney was there at the time. Goulburn followed a year afterwards. Canon Carus was in his years a Fellow of Trinity, and my beloved friend Bishop Perry was there as a tutor. I had many friends, and we were a happy party. I have outlived almost all of them. I owe more than I can express to my College life. I read hard, and I have often observed that hard-reading men look back upon their College days with the greatest pleasure. I was surrounded by a set of steady men, and, above all, I had the advantage of Mr. Simeon's ministry. There was something very wonderful about his preaching; it was not eloquence, and he had none of the brilliance of Mr. Elliott. But it was as clear as a noonday; his statements of truth were unmistakable. He was raised up to preach at Cambridge the great Evangelical doctrines of Scripture. And he taught them with a clearness, a distinctness, and a courage such as could not well be surpassed. Many and many a time did I return to my rooms after church, "sport" my door, and kneel down in earnest prayer under the solemn conviction produced by his most spiritual and awakening ministry. Thus the three years of my University life passed rapidly by. I was very eager in boat-racing, and very keen at the game of cricket, although I could not play much of it, as it took too long a time. But I am thankful to say I had the ministry always in view; and I remember well that on the morning I went into the Senate House for my degree, I knelt down to pray for success, and I thought at the time how much higher gifted I would be if the Lord would make me wise to win souls.

University Letters.

Although the autobiography contains but a brief reference to his career at Cambridge, it seems a pity to pass too hastily over this most important time of a young man's life. A great many of his letters to his mother were written at this period, and, like his boyish letters, they are all carefully stitched up into a series of sets, as if his parent foresaw that one day they would be valued by others. They form delightful reading, and it is unfortunate that want of space forbids more than a summarising of their contents and a few extracts.

The first of these, written to his mother, October 22nd, 1830, two days after he had taken up his residence at Trinity College, describes the purchase of cap and gown, the first dinner in Hall, the rooms in which he was settled, the prospects of College life, which he greatly relished, and the determination to keep clear of "harum-scarum fellows." A characteristic sentence is worth quoting: "There is only one point I really dislike, which is the profane manner in which the Lessons are gabbled over at chapel, so that you can only hear a hurried mumble, and not one word of the sense."

Various incidents enliven the letters at this time: descriptions of his friends, a very nice set; allusions to some "glorious sermons" of Mr. Simeon, who was then the great power at Cambridge; his resolution to join a boat; and the excitement caused "by an attack on the Anatomy Schools, when the Vice-Chancellor sent round to the Colleges to call the men out to fight, which summons we obeyed with great alacrity, though little necessity." Surely the last item must make Cambridge men of this generation envy their predecessors of sixty years ago! On his nineteenth birthday young Hoare thus writes to his mother:--

"I don't know whether you recollect that I shall never again see nineteen years. So I am now entering a new year--oh how earnestly I do hope that, through His grace who alone can keep me, it may be a year of profit and advancement in holiness! I have thought a good deal about it, though not so much as I could wish. How many blessings I have to be thankful for that I have received during the past year, when sorrow and affliction have been scattered all around me! How wonderfully all of us have been preserved in perfect health and enjoyment!"

A few months after this, in a letter from Hampstead, he mentions walking across the fields one Sunday morning to St. John's and hearing a sermon from Mr. Noel that greatly impressed him; the subject was "The necessity and efficacy of diligence in religion."

"He really seemed as if he had meant it for me, for I had been thinking a great deal how far more diligently I pursued my mathematics than my religion."

Yet at this time he was teaching in a Sunday School every Sunday--rather a rare thing for an undergraduate in those days.

Here occurs an allusion to one who was destined to occupy a warm share in his affection during years to come:--

"I met the other day Perry, who was Senior Wrangler and fifth on the Classical Tripos, and finding that he was going to take pupils I have engaged him for next term, provided my father intends to be so liberal as to let me have a tutor."

For over sixty years the friendship was strong and deep, and after Bishop Perry's resignation of the See of Melbourne their intercourse was frequent and loving up to the end. In the Lent Term of 1832 he writes:--

"I have been getting on this week tolerably in my reading, and intolerably in my rowing, having been bumped by the Johnians on Thursday for the first time in my life, and that too when we might have got away with the greatest ease if all our crew had exerted themselves."

Half a century afterwards his curates were often exhorted to work together with a will, and the exhortation was enforced by allusions to the disasters experienced by a crew whose members were not absolutely one in "go" and sympathy.

The following letter from his father has reference to College events at this time:--

"DEAR EDWARD,--A hasty opinion is not always worth having, but you may safely take my advice and try the new boat, bump the first Trinity, and wait for further orders. Let your mother's letter compel you to watch yourself, and if you find the effects of rowing at all prejudicial give it up, but if you find your health and strength on the wax go on, tempering your zeal with moderation, and I will do my best to make peace at home--a work which I shall accomplish with more ease and in less time than you will be at the head of the river. It came across me that, after having vanquished all Cambridge, you might wish to carry your victorious oars to Oxford!"

A fortnight after the last quoted letter from the young collegian, there was another which recounted that, although his boat, of which he was stroke, had gone down as low as fifth, yet on the last race-day it had recovered its old place of second. Then follows a groan concerning the difficulties that attended his post as captain over a discordant body of twenty men: "The crew, when successful, get all the credit, and in the time of misfortune make me their scapegoat."

Fortunately he did not adhere to his original intention of resigning the captaincy, and ultimately his boat attained the proud position of head of the river. Edward Hoare's success in rowing did not make him idle, however: nothing could do that; into whatever he undertook he threw his whole heart and soul, and the very next letter, a few weeks later, May 4th, 1832, begins thus:--

"Here I am a scholar of Trinity safe and sound, as the master calls it 'discipulus juratus et admissus,' and not a little pleased am I at the thought. But what pleases me most of all is that, so far from being last of all, as our list declares, I have come in very high on the list. I do not know exactly where I am, but, as you wish for all the reports, I tell you one which I don't quite believe, which is that I was the second in both years. I beat all the third year, and all my own except the great lion Stevenson, and I got within a respectable distance of him, and Peacock says I have gained upon him since the last examination, whereas I never expected to get within miles of him. In fact I am altogether happier than I can express, and really think that I never spent so joyful a night and day in all my life."

Referring to this success his father writes again:--

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