them. My insufficient age excused me, however, from the immediate
performance of this legal ceremony; and the vice-chancellor directed
me to return, as soon as I should have accomplished my fifteenth
year; recommending me, in the mean while, to the instruction of my
college. My college forgot to instruct: I forgot to return, and was
myself forgotten by the first magistrate of the university. Without
a single lecture, either public or private, either christian or
protestant, without any academical subscription, without any
episcopal confirmation, I was left by the dim light of my catechism
to grope my way to the chapel and communion-table, where I was
admitted, without a question, how far, or by what means, I might be
qualified to receive the sacrament. Such almost incredible neglect
was productive of the worst mischiefs. From my childhood I had been
fond of religious disputation: my poor aunt has been often puzzled
by the mysteries which she strove to believe; nor had the elastic
spring been totally broken by the weight of the atmosphere of
Oxford. The blind activity of idleness urged me to advance without
armour into the dangerous mazes of controversy; and at the age of
sixteen, I bewildered myself in the errors of the church of Rome.

The progress of my conversion may tend to illustrate, at least, the
history of my own mind. It was not long since Dr. Middleton's free
inquiry had founded an alarm in the theological world: much ink and
much gall had been spilt in the defence of the primitive miracles;
and the two dullest of their champions were crowned with academic
honours by the university of Oxford. The name of Middleton was
unpopular; and his proscription very naturally led me to peruse his
writings, and those of his antagonists. His bold criticism, which
approaches the precipice of infidelity, produced on my mind a
singular effect; and had I persevered in the communion of Rome, I