He came hobbling into the study, his face the picture of suffering.

He said to me, "Brother Cuyler, if I break down, won't you take up the service and go on with it ?" I told him that he would forget his pains the moment he got under way, and so it was, for he delivered a most nutritious discourse to us.

When the service was over, he limped off to his carriage, wrapped himself in the huge cushions, and drove away seven miles to his home at Upper Norwood.

That was the last time I ever saw my beloved friend.
It seems strange that I shall never behold that homely, honest countenance again; and since that time, London has hardly seemed to be London without him.

It is a cause for congratulation that his son, the Reverend Thomas Spurgeon, is so successfully carrying forward the great work of his sainted father.