ing the small living of Warton with his tutorship. On the
death of the Rev. Richard Cecil he took, by his especial wish, his
proprietary chapel in Bloomsbury, and there continued till 1824 as one of
the most marked London clergy, keeping up the earnestness that Newton and
Cecil had been noted for, with quite as much energy; and though without
the same originality, there was a _telling_ force about his sermons which
made a young man exclaim the first time he heard him, "I will never hear
Daniel Wilson again," but something led him happily to infringe the
resolution, and then it became, "I will always, if possible, hear Daniel
Wilson." Sentences of his were very memorable; for instance, "Nineteen-
twentieths of sanctification consist in holy tempers," and, besides
exhibiting a pithy force of language, his sermons were prepared with
infinite care and labour. When at St. John's, where he had no parochial
charge, he selected his text on Monday and carried it about with him, so
to speak, all the week, chewing the cud of it as it were, looking it up
in every authority, ancient or modern, within his reach, and conversing
on the subject with any one whom he thought likely to give him a hint.
The sermons were written in a large legible shorthand, only on one side
of the paper, and on the opposite page were copied out extracts of
translations from illustrative authors, often as many as eight to a
single sermon, so that he had in fact a huge secretion of stores, which
he could adapt according to the needs of his congregation, and he made
notes of what he found fall flat and incomprehensible, or what he felt
was stirring the souls of his audience; and this time was most profitably
spent, not only for his immediate congregation, but in laying up a
provision for the busier days of after-life, when the same amount of
study was out of his power. And the benefit of such painstaking may be
estimated by the words of a gentleman when introduced to a relative of
his in after-years, "I am only one of very many who do not know and never
spoke to Mr. Wilson, but to whom he has been a father in CHRIST. He
never will know, and he never ought to know, the good that he has been
the means of doing, for no man could bear it."

Proprietary chapels have now nearly become extinct. They were an effect
of the neglect of the heathenish eighteenth century, and one of the means
of providing church room by private speculation; and thus they almost
necess