^ ^ ^ \^-^. .o^.. \^^^ % IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) y ^ ^ /. ^ '^ c. ;<'>:^^ ^ /W/ ^ /.^ < % WJa A .^ C?^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 S: #> <,i>^ V iV :\ \ A '*"'" W^ <> ■^c*' ^1? "4> '^^^ 6^ .V y". CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques ^^ \\ <. iL^^ ":*% %"■ Technical and Bibliographic Notas/Notas tachniquas at bibiiographiquas The Institute has attempted to obtain the best criginal copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibiiographicaily unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. D Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur I I Covers damaged/ Couverture endommag^e Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurde et/ou pelliculie Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps/ Cartes g^ographiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Reiii avec d'autres documents J n Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ Lareliure serr^e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distorsion le long de la marge intdrieure Blank leaves added during restorat'on may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout^es lors dune restauration apparaissent dans la texte, mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas dt6 filmies. L'Instltut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a At* possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger una modification dans la mithode normale de filmage sont indiquAs ci-dessous. I I Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur Pages damaged/ Pages endommagias Pages restored and/oi Pages restaur^es et/ou pelliculAes I I Pages damaged/ I I Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages ddcolor^es, tachetdes ou piqudes I I Pages detached/ Pages d^tachdes Showthrough/ Transparence Quality of prir Quality inigale de I'impression Includes supplementary materia Corr.prend du materiel suppiementaire Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible I I Showthrough/ rn Quality of print varies/ I I Includes supplementary material/ I I Only edition available/ n Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partiullement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc.. ont itit filmdes d nouveau de facon d obtenir la meilleure image possible. Additional comments:/ Commentaires suppldmentaires; Various pagings. There are some creases in the middle of the pages. Wrinkled pages may film slightly out of focus. This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est fiim6 au taux de reduction indiqud ci-dessous. 10X 14X 18X 22X \ \ \ I \ \ I i TTT I \ f 26X SOX 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X The copy filmed here hes been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: Library, Department of National Defence L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grAce A la ginArositA rHa: Bibliothdque, Miniitdre de la D6fense Nationals The images appearing hare are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol ^^> (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les images suivantes ont iti reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition at de la nettet* de l'exemplaire film*, at en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture on papier est imprimis sont fiimis en con^men^ant par le premier plat at en terminant soit par la derniAre page qui comporte une ampreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, selon te cas. Tous les autras exemplaires originaux sont filmAs en commenpant par la premiere page qui comports une einpreinte d'impression ou d'illustration at en terminant par la darniire page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles sulvants apparaltra sur la dernidra image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole -♦' signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". Les cartas, planches, tableaux, etc.. peuvent dtre fiimis d des taux de reduction diffirents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Stre reproduit en un seul clichd, il est filmd d partir de I'angle supirieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nicessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent ia mithode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 £#*' ] \ I h Yi \ ■ jj f / i I VUtilr if ' ' ycJ/y//// f,v^' f'- Zondun.Pui. fn- Wuii-AAftrrX-Son .Stron,f, 7 ,fij>tr /HAI. J-^. MEMOIRS •f THE LATE maiot=(Rmtv^l anftrrtt) geurn, or THE ROYAL MARINES; COLLECTED FROM HIS JOURNALS. SECOND EDITION. Eottlron : PRINTED AND SOLD BY MESSRS W. WINCHESTER AND SON, 6l, STRAND, 1816. 4 Prbi Part CONTENTS. PiiBFACB to the Pint Edition ^r Part I. The Author's Narrative to hi. abode in in France, 1764 ...,,,, ' II. Conclusion of the Author's Narrative, to his Conversion, 1772, , «. III. Continuation of Lieutenant Bum's His- tory, comprising Extracts from his Jour- nals, to his Return from America, 1778.. 106 • IV. The same to Captaift Burn's return from India, 1781 ^^^ — ^ V. Conclusion , ^ ^iQ I' ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SECOND EDITION. TViis second Edition of Gnterat nitrn's Memoirs^ published under the inspection oj' his surviving Jami/i/f although eonsidfrahly reduced in size, contains the sub' stanct f(he Mim^lttn. In some instances additions have been made ; tmd the whole has been care- fully corrected. With graltful acknowledgments for the kind manner in which the former edition was re- ceived and circulated by their fVicnds, the family of General Bum hope limit the work in its present form will obtain a still wider circulation, and become the means of more extensive usefulness. m-efm to tOe d?u-0t mitlon. It will natumlly b« expected thot wo. who hn»« re, commended the publictim, of th,. followinf; .hechi. iho„ld pr*^Td« them by «onu. Htrbunt of the motire. by which wo have hvvn ttctuut«l. o« koII a« by u sketch of our own view, of th. character of the revered friend whose Memoirs are now laid before the worhl. Pur- suant to this probable expectation, a fcw prefatory ob, tcrvntions are here given. We hud long known that our excellent friend was in the habit of keeping a diary, i„ which he recorded the principal occurrences of his life, and sedulously traced his religious progress. But we had no idea, till after his death, to what extent his written meditations bad been carried ; nor did we know explicitly, that more was intended by keeping such a journal, than to furnish assistance to himself in his habitual practice of •elf-examination, or perhaps to promote the religion, progre^ of his children, by enabling them to trace the loiig and diversified course of their venerable parent. On being requested by his amiabJP for«:i., ♦ •_. ai VUl PREFACE. the manuscripts which he had left, we found that they ivere very methodical, and extended to at least two thousand [lages ; that they comprehended ample mate- rials for sketching Memoin of his Life both as an Of- ficer and as a Christian ; that it had long been his in- tention that such Memoirs should be published for the benefit of his family afl«r his decease ; and that he had actually, subsequent to his retirement from the duties of Commandant at Woolwich, thrown a considerable portion of the earlier events of his Ufe into the narrative form. What was thus prepared for the press by hiuiself, will be found (with a few verbal alterations) in the first one hundred and sixty pages of the first volume. It is written with so much of the author's characteristic sim- plicity, and is so replete with interesting incident and instructive observation, that we cannot but deeply regret that his life was terminated before he had completed the task he had assigned himself. The mass of materials, however, out of which the remainder of the work was to be drawn, was at hand. We found it copious and va- luable, and saw that there only was required, to pre- pare it for the public eye, a man of enlarged under- standing, occasionally exercised in literary pursuits, of delicate feelings, and of decided piety, ready to devote his time and his judgment to the selection and com- pression of the most striking particulars contained ia I. t>REPACB. IX )d that they at least two ample mate- h as an Of- been his in- shed for the that he had Q the duties considerable :he narrative by hiuiselfy ) in the first lume. It is :teristic sim- ncident and leeply regret •mpleted the if materials, work was to ous and va« red, to pre- rged under- pursuits, of dy to devote n and com- '.ontained ia the manuscripts. To such a person we have been hap. pily directed ; a gentleman well known among literary men, as well as in what is denominated «« the religiout world," a man of talents, discretion, and piety; fitted in every respect for the performance he has undertaken, except, perhaps, some disadvantages may have arisen from his not being personally acquainted with the ex- cellent rndjvidual whose papers have been subjected tt* his inspection and revision. To compensate for these disadvantages (whether real or ideal), he liberally con- sented to subject his uianusciipts and selections to the examination of General Burn's family and friends, •imply requiring that on that account his name should be withheld from the public. The volumes which have thus been prepared for the press, are now presented to the world, accompanied with the grateful acknowledgments of the General's family, for the generous and delicate manner in which the numerous subscribers to the publication have ma- nifested their exalted estimate of his exemplary cha- racter, and with their fervent prayers that the work may be productive of much religious benefit. By whatever mixed motives we may have been actuated in promoting this publication, we can without hesitation aver that their principal object has been to furnish the public with a true picture of the life and character of their venerable relative, that many might be stimulated to imitate his i* •: J X PREFACE. bright exDmple, to run an equally steady course, and to obtain an equally unfading crown. As they who have been hitherto unacquainted with the character of our departed friend, will find no diffi- culty ^in forming a correct judgment after they hav« finished the perusal of these volumes, it is by no means necessary that we should attempt u complete outline in this place : nor, indeed, do any of us feel qualified for the undertaking, if it were necessary. To depict the undeviating rectitude of his conduct, the unshaken con- stancy of his friendship, the unwearied activity of his benevolence, the invariable warmth of his affections, the untarnished purity of his habits, the unabating fervour of his piety, would require no common pencil. We shall here do nothing more than refer, and that, we are conscious, very inadequately, to a few particular excel- lences, which they who intimately knew the General could not fail to notice. Andfiret, he was sincere, and free from all disguise. He was not a man of promise, but of performance. There needed not a window through which to look into his heart, for all his best sentiments and feelings were written on his countenance. Allowing for the effects of a little constitutional reserve, heightened somewhat in the later portions of life by deafness, a stranger would know the General as well after he had been an hour in his society, as he would after he had enjoyed • PR£PAC£. ' course, and uainted with find no dtffi- :er they have by no means te outline in qualified for depict the nshaken con- tivity of hi$ ffectionsy the iting fervour pencil. We that, we are icular excel- the General all disguise, )erformance. to look into eelings were :he effects of 1 somewhat a stranger lad been an lad enjoyed ' bis acquaintance for a year. He had no objects but to glorify God, and promote the happiuoHS of his fellow- creatures : and these, as he felt neither ashamed nor proud of them, he attempted neither pusillanimouslj to conceal, nor ostentatiously to display. Where h« saw, or thought he saw, a friend in serious error, either in point of sentiment, or of action, he would frankly suggest his appreliensions, but never rudely obtrude them ; being too well acquainted with the economy of human life, and the established usages of society, to fancy that to wound a man's feelings was the way to do him good. In consequence of this integrity of disposition, and singleness of intention, none ever saw him assuming different manners or principles before different persons, «r detected him pursuing circuitous courses in order to accomplish his purpose. If the end he had in view was worth attaining (and we know not who ever found hira aiming earnestly at an object which was not likely to promote the best interests either of himself or of others), his approaches towards it would be direct and above ground ; though they would be more or less slow ac- cording as judgment or discretion regulated the rate of advance. " He walked be/ore Godi" and the world, *« in *' truth and in righteousness, in uprightness and inieg- " rity of heart.'' His benevolence was a prominent feature. Here we i, h^l I; 1 ir iH ntSPACB. do not ip<»k of the frequent meltings of his mild anil gentle nature after his heurt was suMued by divine grace, and the way in which they prompted him to alle- viate the lufTerings of others ; but chiefly of that exei^ cise of Christiou principle by which he incessantly sought to promote the temporal welfare and the eternal interests of all who fell within the sphere of his influence. They who distribute their abundance, either in almsgiving, or in more deliberate aud continuous exertions, are en- titled to commendation, and will, if they act from suitable motives, «* receive a rewaixl" of a higher kind: but how much more cogent and operative must be the •pringof action, when the habit of benevolence cam»ot possibly be evinced, but by a rigid adherence to habiti of economy/ In the instance we are now contemplating, a large family was to be reared upon very slender means; such a if we were to specify them, would by many be pronounced totally inadequate to the purpose: and yet, such was the attention to frugality, such the deter- mination to abstain from what are called luxuries, for the sake of enjoying the true luxury of doing good, that few men of opulence have been more instrumental in diffusing benefits and blessings than General Burn, who could Karcely be said, till near the close of life, to enjoy a competence. Seif-denial was uniformly an ingredient in the bene- volence of this excellent man. It was manifested, in i 1 ■!! PREFACE. XUl l)is mild and i by divint him to alle- >f that exer- antly sought mal interest! lence. They msgiviug, or tns, are en- sy act from ligher kind: must be the ence cannot ce to httbiti itemplating, >der means; )y many be rpose: and h the deter- ixuries, for : good, that amental in lAL Burn, of life, to 1 the bene- lifested, in I J I his voluntarily deprivinghimeelf of much which scarcely any but him would regard us supfvfluities, ttiat lie might relieve the temporal wants of others ; and in sur* rendering (what was to him of more value than pro- perty) leisure and retirement, that he might remove their intellectual and spiritual necessities. Deeply convinced of the efficacy of early education in forming correct habits, and in disciplining the heart, and thus promoting both individual comfort and the general welfare, he wa» a warm friend to schools for the indigent. To Sunday Schools, especially, he gave both his influence and his time. Even at an advanced age, he engaged very ac- tively in teaching and catechising the children of a large Sunday School, formed entirely by the exertions of himself and family, and for no inconsiderable period instructed by them almost solely. By giving his per- sonal exertions, as well as his money and his prayers, to such an institution, he shewed how ready, even when, by reason of growing infirmities, ease and quiet became more than usually important, he was to sacrifice them, provided he had but the prospect of shewing to the young and inexperienced «« the way in which they should go,'' of rescuing them from ignorance and vice, and stimulating them to true kiiowledge and holiness. If it be, as a wise heathen affirmed, «* the most culpable death to have life and not to use it," General Burn subjected himself to no such reprehension : on XIV PREFACE, 1 I t( (I the contrary, numbers felt, both cori)oreally and Bpi. ritnally, that/ji? had life,— numbers who cheerfully tes- tify their obligations to him, and '« call him blessed^ Our valued friend also furnished a fine example of ge- nuine cant/our. Likeoihermanof reflection and in- quiry, he had on most important points made u deliberate decision, and, in reference to those of less importance, had his preferences. But he never expressed himself eitlier censoriously or contemptuously of those who by conscientious investigation had been led to different conclusions; nor did he ever withhold the right «* hand of fellowship," except from such as had « wandei-ed from the faith" in reference to fundamentals. Having re- ceived his early religious instruction fromhin grandfather, a pious clergyman of the church of Scotland, he was led to prefer the manner of conducting worship among the English orthodox dissenters, to that in the episcopalian church. But this did not prompt him to take a lively interest in any questions relative to church government, or to lay much stress upon any varieties in discipline, except they obviously tended to laxness of sentiment or to unholy practice. He rejoiced cordially in the growth of true religion in every church, whether established or tolerated, foreign or domestic; but seemed to rejoice most when the doctrines of the Bible (and, happily, of the thirty-nine articles) were faithfully and ably dis- pensed from the pulpit of a parish church ; because in FREPACU, Xf illy and api. leeifully te». I blessed,** ample of ge- tion and in- ^u deli berate importance, ^ssed himself ;ho8e who by to different ht«'handof ndered from Having re- jrandfather, I) he was led » among the 'Piacopalian ike a lively :ovemment, discipline, entiment or the growth ^blighed or I to rejoice lappily, of ably dis- becausc in that case he apprehended the minister of the gospel woald have fewer prejudices to overcome, than he who with like zeal and talent might be called to preach the same doctrines among dissenters. Hence, when one of his sons resolved to devote himself to the clerical profession in the established church, he expatiated on the circum- stance with great delight; though, during the period that his son hesitated, this exemplary parent attempted neither to suggest difficulties nor to remove them ; neither directly nor indirectly did he influence his judg- ment or bias his decision. Hence, also, it was his fre- quent and fervent prayer for years, that pious clergy- men might be placed by Divine Providence in our large garrison towns ; and when his prayer was answered with respect to Chatham (a town with the religious state of which he was well acquainted), he was, on seeing the clergyman come from the parish church, so overwhelmed with grateful feeling, that tears and sobs for some mi- nutes prevented his utterance. If, however, on the topic of church government he might slide habitually into what some, even in the pre- sent day of liberal sentiment, will denominate indif- ference ; this could not with any shadow of propriety be imputed to him in reference to " modes of faith." He was, webelieve, nearly through the whole of his religious life, a decided Calvinist. Yet he never approximated towards that modification of sentiment, inwhichanexclu- tTl PREFACB. Bive attachment to doctrinal spcculution leave* no room U trace practical tendencies ; nor that, in which the doctrine of divine decree* is so grossly stated as m»arly toextinguish the idea of human accountability. His notions weie rather those maintainfd by Calvin in his •• Commentaries" (when age and reflection hud tempered his judgment), than some which are advanccil m his " Institutes :" nor did they ever tempt him, Brmly as he held them and much as he valued them, to exclude from the pale of salvation, any who relied aione on the atonement and righteousness •f Christ, however they might differ from him in non- essentials^ In nearly the last letter he ever wrote (being dated the 9th of August, 1814), addressed to Mr. Percy, the pastor of the church with which he united himself at Woolwich, after speaking of his inability to go from Gillingham to public worship at Chatham so frequently as he could wish, he adds—" But there is a sprinkling ** of choice Christians at Gillingham, among the " Methodists, lively, zealous men, ornaments to the " gospel, and of real, vital, godliness. With these we " frequently assemble in a small neat chapel, close to ** us, that will hold about two hundred persons. «« they have various preachers, some of them very ac- « ceptable, and as far as 1 have heard yet, very orthodox. <* Their weekly prayer-meeting is well conducted, and « well attended; and here I hope the Lord will bles8 fftEfACE. XVtl etno roomt* I the doctrine toextinguUh IS wet e rather ;arie«" (when $inent), than et :" nor did n and much of aalvatioD, ighteouanest hiu in non- [beiug dated . Percy, the d himself at to go from o frequently a sprinkling among the aents to the ith these we pel, close to ed persons. ;m very ae- ry orthodox, ducted, and n\ will KloQii "* US. We have taken a pew ; but have not imbibed «* any of their sentimentH contrary t<» what we have " all alouK profenHcd ; though, us far uh I tan r>erceive, " the difference between us ties more in words than •• ani/ thing else.'* A man who could thus express himself on the points at isMte betwe*»n the Arminions and the Calvinists, was not likely to indulge in disputation. And here, wc conceive, lay one of his peculiar excellences. He loved the society of men of intellect, and still moi« that of men of piety. He loved to listen, and he loved to join, in free conversation; he would not shrink from animated discussion ; but the moment there was evinced a desire to triumph, or an intemperate tenacious ness. about mere matters of opinion respecting which Chris. tians are divided, he would usually sit back in his chair and remain silent. He was far too wise to expect to make converts to his own opinions by cursorj-, still less by angry disputation ; and far too humble to conclude that they who did not in all respects think as he did, were, there- fore, wrong. He taught his sentiments, not by dis- puting about them, but by exhibiting, their influence on his manners and conduct ; and many were the proselytes who were thus won over to true religion. But as it would be endless to attempt the develope- ment of his individual txcellences, we shall say a few ^•ords on that which lay the foundation of the whole — . ff ifui rRKPACE. hii devotional spirit. He cheerfully discharged hit profetwional dutiet ; he enjoyed free intercourBe with hii friends ; he delighted to b« surrounded by hii family ; but neither profeasiunal dutieH, friendii, nor family, were permitted ho to en^ronH hid attention as to prevent hit frequent comuiuniun with God. He itufl'ered neither the ardent passiotiii of the meridian of life, nor the allurements of a profession in which there were very few pious men when he commenced his religious course, to tempt him from that ♦* close walk with God" in which for more than forty years he waii enabled to per- severe. Convinced as Itc had been by painful ex- perience, during his residence in France where he in- dulged lin in6del speculations and practices, of the weakness and depravity of the human heart, he no sooner tasted the benefits of genuine conversion, titan he resolved to correct vicious habits and extirpate evil propensities, not by his own strength, but by daily and hourly application to the divine source of grace and mercy. Several of the passages selected from his journals in the following sheets bear evidence of the plans by which he so " redeemed the time," when at sea and otherwise engaged in his profession, as to assign fit portions of every day to reading the Scriptures, to meditation, and prayer. Living thus constantly on the verge of heaven, although reflection on the irreligion of early life occasioned many a pang, and the heert-probing m PREFACE. kiX sclmrgt^l hit urne witli hit hii family ; fumily, irera prevent hi* ered neither life, nur the e were very ipous course, th God" in bled to per- pninful ex- vbere he in- ices, of the leart, he no version, titan ctirpate evil jy daily and f grace and i from his lence of the e," when at as to assign criptures, to mtly on the irreligion of !firt-nrr«Kinfltabl(> proof of the power of divine grace in the conversion of a sinner, from the pollutions of corrupt nature to a holy newness of life in Christ Jesus ; or which -beautifully and comfortably il- lustrate the more than fatherly care and infinite pi(y of the Almighty, in his various and wonderful pro- vidential dealings with some of his favoured people. If, from what I have experienced myself, I may be allowed to answer for others, I frankly confess I hav<> reaped iaore real benefit, and enjoyed more soul-purifying pleasure, in reading the Life of Co- lonel Gardiner, Hervey, or Newton, than from thf! studious perusal of a whole body of doctrinal di- vinity; and have received more solid comfort from one hour's spiritual conversation with some expc- M rienced and hiimhie child of God. than ev{>r T did I'l'i iiiiil frcm long and learned disputes on contested points of theology. This prevailing consideration, as already men- tioned, inseparably connected, I trust, with a single eye to the glory of God, first led me to form the resolution of throwing in my mite towards increas- ing the Christian's biographical hbrary. I am well aware, that some who may peruse this Narrative will be disappointed at not finding so much of the marvellous in it, as perhaps they ex- pected on reading the title-page; but sure I am, the well-experienced Christian, whose eyes are opened by divine grace, will perceive the finger of God as distinctly in the common incidents it contains, as in the more remarkable events dispersed through it ; though they most probably will produce little more than momentary astonishment in the carnal mind. Believers in general lose much comfort by not carefully watching the footsteps of Providence ia common incidents ; which are sometimes big with future designs of the highest importance, and are always fraught with rich displays of their dear Re- deemer's love. While in a state of nature, care- lessly glidmg down the stream of dissipation, I never once regarded those things wliich befel me, in any other light than as matters of course, or of accident, trivial in their nature and consequences, which • n no respect demanded my attention : but, through grace, having since been better taught, I now stand amazed at my former blind stupidity; and from a Hplih^srofo ^^■.,1^,^, ^C 4.U_ : '* .-'-^.-i.v, »i^T»vTv VI mc various QCCUfr # lilii fences in my past existence, can as plainly discover the supporting and protecting arm of my heavenly Fatlier, as I at this moment do the most conspi- cuous objects by the light of the noon-day sun. Circumstances which formerly appeared as blanks in my life, now stand forth and vindicate tlie con- duct of U.e wise and sovereign Disposer of all thmgs ; clearly proving, from subsequent events that they really were of the utmost importance, and that on them depended the m hole of my present and future happiness. I therefore humbly hope, the aisciple of Jesus Chriit w1k> delights to walk closely with his Master, and whose happy privi- lege It is, by the light of the Spirit, carefully to jnark, and sweeUy to meditate upon, the gracious leadmgs of Divine Providence, with respect to his own soul, will not disdain to learn how the same almighty arm, in infinite mercy, hath led a poor fellow-traveller through many a nnigh a*id thorny It can be of little use to mention here, the par- ticular time and place of my birth*. « God is no respecter of persons." But surely there is a debt of gratitude d«e from me, and many thousands more, to the great Source of Being, for giving us an existence in this highly favoured isle, under the bright shining of the everlasting Gospel ! Who dare presume to say, that, as a sovereign, He might not as justly have ranked us among the ignorant Hottentots, or brought us intQ being among the sa< vage inhabitants of New Holland ? I am afraid, very few even of religious people put a sufficient esti- mate upon this blessing. Because it is common to this generation, in this part of the world, it is either Blighted, or forgotten ; but it ought to be remem- bered, that it is not common to all the human race. To have a just idea of its value, we need but cast the eye of reflection a few centuries back, and be- hold what gross ignorance, superstition, and more than midnight darkness, covered the poor untu- tored inhabitants of this land. Multitudes did not know there was such a book as the Bible in the world ; numbers more could not obtain a sight of it in a language they understood ; and the very few that did, after spending many painful years in the study of the respective languages, were frequently obliged to travel many hundred miles, to some uni- versity, or monks* cloister, for a Greek or Hebrew copy of it. Blessed be God, it is not so in our day ; although to our shame we sadly undervalue the great privileges we enjoy. Beside this common mercy, of being born in a Christiaji l^d, God was pleased to bestow upon me another, which is not common to all his child- ren ; that of being bom of godly parents, and sur- rounded on all sides by truly pious relations. In- fant reason no sooner dawned, than they began to use every possible means to give that reason a right AJ4^„ ,^,,„i„ ii^ j.it^jy\^i wojc\.i, J auu uicy uaiiy apt- the ignorant nong the sa- il afraid, very jfficient esti- coinmon to i, it is either • be reniem- human race, eed but cast ick, and be- n, and more poor untu- udes did not Bible in the lin a sight of the very few years in the re frequently to some uni- k or Hebrew in our day ; due the great ig born in a bestow upon all his child- nts, and sur- lations. In- hey began to eason a right ey daily ap- proached a throne of grace with fervent prayer for their helpless child, before he knew how to pray for himself. When a rude unthinking boy at school, I have sometimes stood at my pious grandmother's closet door; and how many heart-affecting groans and ardent supplications have I heard, poured forth for me, for which I then never imagined there was the smallest occasion! Yet if the prayers of the righteous avail much (James v. I6) (and surely I can confirm the truth of tl.is scripture), how greatly am I indebted to God, who blessed me with such pa- rents! There are many in the world, who take as much pains to inculcate into the minds of their ten- der oflfspring the love of sinful pleasures and pe- rishing vanities, as mine did to persuade me to the love of God and the pursuit of eternal things. A religious education, it is true, will not always re- strain the vicious inclinations of youth; as mlny a pious father and mother know to their sorrow : but it is nevertheless a means of grace, of God's ap- pointment, and from which many have reaped the most salutary effects. Though the fruits of such an education may not appear for many ytars, yet, sooner, or later, the assiduous labours of the godly parent will certainly, in one respect or other, be amply rewarded. I, among a multitude of others, am a living witness to this truth. The vir- tuous and evangelical principles I imbibed in my youth, and the pious examples constantly set before me, though frequently slighted, and sometimes in ihe course of a wicked life entirely forgotten, yet I fli • I ! Illlii I ^ seldom or never failed to witness against me in the wilful commission of sin; and frequently were the means of preventing its perpetration: and what pre- vents Kin, must surely be a great blessing. I can give but a very imperfect account of what passed in the early part of my life. Here memory fails me; but 1 have frequently heard my grand- mother and aunt say, 1 was of a very delicate con- stitution, and many times, contrary to all expecta- tion, was delivered from the very brink of the grave. The unseen arm of the Lord was graciously extended to protect me in an infant state, and led me safe through all the dangers to which rash un- thinking youth is hourly exposed. When nearly three years old, I was sent to live with my grand- father, a faithful minister of the gospel in the church of Scotland; who laboured zealously in his master's vineyard for upwards of sixty years, and died, univfcrsally regretted, at a very advanced age. Here my elder brother and myself became the pecu- liar charge of this venerable guide, and under his immediate inspection were carefully and religiously educated. At the age of fourteen, when I had made as great a progress in my studies as I could well attain at the best grammar-school in the place, my father judged it full time for me to think of en- tering into some line of life in which I might be enabled, under God, to provide for myself; his own situation in the mercantile world being such as left him little hope of ever being able to make any ,-\K he wrote to me about this time, he proposed to my consideration, the three following professions; either to continue my studies at the university, with a view to the church; to study physic; or to follow the law. Tlie last of these he rather recom- mended, on account of his having a valuable friend in that profession, with whom he could then advantageously place me, so as to be more immediately under his own eye. Having no fixed choice of my own, I readily fell in with that of a kind parent, whom I had every reason to love and respect ; and soon after, I left my grand- father's house, went home, and in a few days was placed in the office of my father's friend, followed by many a fervent prayer, and by many a godly ad- monition to beware of the alluring temptations to which I should be exposed, and many an exhortation to be very assiduous in endeavouring to gain a thorough knowledge of the profession I had chosen. The latter part of this advice I strictly observed ; and, having paid a close attention to business for about a year, flattered myself, from the progress I thought I was making, that in a very little time I should be able to procure a comfortable livelihood, and perhaps in the course of a few years accumulate that wealth in which I vainly imagined true happiness to consist. The enemy of souls has lulled me into many of these golden dreams, from which I never should have awaked, had not God, who is rich in mercy, graciously interposed to break the snare. "' 13 he now did, by one of those sudden turns of m I inn! ^ mm ' iij jijiillli'i Providence, of which, in the course of this narrative, it will be found I was frequently the subject. I have often thought of the pleasure the redeemed soul must feel in the world of spirits, when per- mitted to see the intricate thread of Providence fully unravelled: and as I humbly hope, through grace, to be thus highly favoured, methinks I shall Htand »mazed, and with glowing gratitude admire the divine goodness and wisdom, in not permitting me to prosecute a business, in which many dangers and snares frequently, I fear, occur to perplex the mind of the conscientious Christian, and into which I might have fallen, and been ruined for ever ! How this sudden change of situation was effected, with the circumstances that intrndiired me into an en- tirely new scene, will appear in the subsequent narrative. From my infancy to the age of sixteen, having none but virtuous examples before me, and being surrounded with pious relatives, ready to warn and correct me on the least failure, I should have been ID a manner constrained to walk circumspectly, even if I had been most viciously inclined : that, however, was not the case ; for my compassionate Creator, among all his other favours, gave me a tender conscience, which in those early days was more hearkened to than it has frequently been since ; and, if I mistake not, the principal part, if not the whole, of my religion then consisted in attempts to pacify this clamorous monitor. My parents care- fully taught me to pray with the lip ; hut it was I 9 beyond their power to make me pray with the heart, and that I seldom or never did. I was obliged to' repeat the Assembly's Catechism, at least, once a week, for eight or ten years together; but I may safely venture to affirm, I did not know the spiritual meaning of one sentence in it. The Bible I also read over several times, but with no more profit at that period than I received from repeating the Ca- techism. The name of Jesus Christ, with salvation through him alone, was continually sounding in my ears; but, alas! I neither saw my need of sirch a Saviour, nor at all understood the extreme import- ance of this declaration. Indeed I thought it was my indispensable duty to be religious like those about me, that I might escape the pains of hell, and lay m a claim to the joys of heaven. A Pharisee in miniature, I delighted to think of heaven, and often longed to be one of its inhabitants ; tliou-h I never rightly relished the nature of their divine "em- ployment. The idea of happiness flowing from the uninterrupted worship of God and the Lamb, was then too spiritual and sublime for me to compre- hend. Consequently, my religious duties were for the most part very burdensome. 1 particularly remember, the Sabbath day generally appeared as long -isany two other days in the week ; and a sacramental occasion I dreaded as the greatest evil, because the Thursday and Saturday before, and the Monday after, were days more immediately devoted to God by fasting, preaching, and prayer. In short I had no other re- B 3 f 10 ligion to boast of at that period, than that which thousunds arc conteatcd with in the present day : I mean that of education and example. Hud I been bom and educated at Constantinople, I certainly had been as good a mussulman, as L was then a Chiiatian. A " form of godliness," without any thing of its power, was all of which I could boust : I neither wished for, nor felt the necessity of, u better. Something which 1 then fancied of far greater moment, wholly engrossed my attention ; and that was, how I should most speedily acquire, honour, wealth, and power, in the world ; — totally ignorant of what I have since found by experience to be true, that " the blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with it." Prov. X. 22. But to return to my narrative. My father about this time, having met with many heavy losse8 and disappointments in trade, particularly by the founder- ing of a ship that was not insured, found it imprac- ticable any longer to maintain his family in that line of business in which he had been engaged; and having no promising prospect of soon entering into any other, he obtained, though with some difficulty, through the instrumentality of Sir H. Erskine, a purser's warrant to a sloop of war. To a man of my father's domestic character, the thought of separation from his beloved family, his friends and connexions, was one of the heaviest trials he had ever met with j but necessity, sad necessity, left no 11 room to heuitate. He therefore set oflf immediately to join \m sliip, tiie M— , uiid embarked in Yarmoulh- roadd. From this period I felt insensibly Bteuling upon me :i strong desire to follow my father's steps, and share his fortune at sea. This wish increased upon me every day ; so that J soon began todisrelish the slow and painful way of scraping riches together with my pen, and thought and talked of nothmg but a man- of-war. My youthful mhid, fdled with strange notions of noble warlike achievements, and pufted up with false hopes of accumulating immense riches from the spoils of the enemy, soon arrived at the height of its phrensy; and brought me, at last, fully and foolishly to determine, at all events, to leave the profession of which I had already acquired some little knowledge, in order to strike out a new, and, as I then imagined, a far more honourable, way of rising in the world, and, upon the very face of it, a much easier method of attaining to a state of opu- lence, which in my eyes, was the " one thing needful." When my father was informed of my determination, he rather encouraged than opposed it; and only insisted upon my first employing a few months more iu the study of navigation, and other necessary branches of mathematics ; a request with which I cheerfully complied. 1 was just preparing to set off to join the M— , then at the Nor^, when providentially she was ordered to convoy a fleet of merchantmen from a sea-port within twenty miles n IP of my abode. After waiting impatiently several days for her arrival, I at last act off from my native place, accompanied part of the way by an elder brother; and embarked on board this vessel on my birth-duy in the year 1 758, being then sixteen years of age. Before I proceed, 1 must for a moment indulge u pleasing reflection on the goodness of our Heavenly Father to me his unworthy creature, in the trans- actions of this day ; that my heart, so very prone to forget the Lord's mticies, may once more enjoy the pleasure of feeling a glow of gratitude and love. What a peculiar blessing was it, for instance, that now, when in the bloom of youth, strong and healthy, every passion ready to bur«t into a flame of sinful gratification, I embarked on board a man-of- war (a place so unfavourable to the growth of re- ligion), I there found a pious father, like another guardian angel, warning me of the approach of dinger, pointing out the path of safety, and serv- ing aa a powerful restraint against the commission of those gross iniiiuities, in the midst of which we were both obliged to dwell ! What would have be- come of me in this dangerous situation, if God had not there placed such an instrument to protect me ! Instead of being frequently shut up in a cabin with an affectionate parent, there spending many an hour in prayer, reading the Scriptures, and listen- ing to his pious intructions, while he pointed out Jesus, and the way of salvation through him ,• I most probably should have been carousing with my abandoned messmates below, wallowing in all manner 19 of sin and uncleanneNs, blasplieming my Saviour perhaps, wilh every breutli I drew. Utile did I then think of the advantages I reaped fron» a fathcr'i care ; much less did I ever imagine that God had any inlluence in it : but now that, through grace, my eyes are open, and I call to remembrance the ynany promising youths I Imve seen entirely ruined ui a few mo,.il,« after they entered the navy, and how few there are, who enjoy such a powerful protection from Its contaminating pollutions as I did; I stand amazed at the love of God, and, while J gaze at the danger escaped, wonder that I do not love Him more. I was just entering into my seventeenth year, when I embarked with my beloved parent, though not m that line of service in which 1 had lormed all my foolish plans of glory and riches ; for my father well knew the great difficulty there was of procuring a commission in the naval department, and how many years of service it was necessary I should go through, before I could be duly qualified. He therefore judged it would be most for my advantage, to get a competent knowledge of his own business; hoping that with the interest he had, he might soon be enabled to procure me a purser's warrant. With this view I was employed, during my continuance on board the M-, i„ the captain's cabin, to assist his clerk m keeping the ship's books, and my father's accounts. Those who were my companions when walking the quarterdeck, and who are now all dead were of the most abandoned description ; my mesa- f 14 mute, the captiin'f clerk, being one of the worst of lliem. Thou^li too often enticed into the paths of (tin by their buil example, yet, thuuks be to God! through rneann of the powerful reMliuiiit just men- tioned, I wa« not thill Hurtirid to be entirely curried away into the current of their iiiiipiilniis practices. A few daya after i embarked, we sailed from Leith, and soon arrived in the North Sea, where we were stationetl during the winter, to protect the cod-fi»hery, on the Dogger-bank. JJut surely never poor mortal went through u more nevere ordeal tlian I did here ; being couHtaiitly sea-sick, and almost in hourly dread of perishing on u lee shore, or foundering in the ocean ! Such was my truly uncomfortable situation, that I often wished myself any where, or any thing, rather than where uiul w hut I was ; but now it was too lute to repent. I could only exclaim bitterly, in secret, at my own con- summate folly, in leaving a promising profession at home, for one ^o very disagreeable and precarious abroad; especially since I saw no probability of ever amassing the immense fortune my covetous heart so eagerly desired*. Thus fallacious are the dreams of those, who expect to find happiness in any thing short of true relipon. Happy was it for me that our station on the Dogger-bank did not last so long as we expected. • The sum total of the prize monoy I made during tliis war, amounted to three shillings and lixpencc I li Oil the 7tli of January following (I75f)), we w«ft relieved by tho (Jrain|Hii «l„<.p, .„*! ordereich he was rser of the discharge ; It with the w, that, if Y to supply were soon '■ ship, my particular ;lie voyage 10 from England, he used frequently to say amongst Ills inconsiderate companions, that as he had formerly been well seasoned in the West Indies, he should now live to see them all in their graves ; and being appointed to read the burial service when any one died at sea, he often swore he would perform that ceremony for none of them, unless they would pay him before-hand. Poor unhappy man ! He was death's first victim ! My father would gladly have taken me to England with him, had he entertained the smallest hope of providing for me there; but as I enjoyed a good state of health, and seemed rather inclined to remain in Jamaica, he thought it might tend much more to my temporal advantage to leave me behind. He there- fore agreed with a gentleman of his acquaintance at Kingston, the deputy secretary of the island, to take me as a clerk in his office. Having earnestly recommended me to the divine favour, and offered up many ardent prayers for my preservation, he took an affectionate leave of me on the 3l8t of July, 1759, and sailed from Port Royal the same day, in the Ludlow Castle. What an unspeakable mercy it is, to be blessed with truly religious parents ! If ever the prayers of the righteous were prevalent in behalf of a fellow- mortal, surely those which a pious father now put up for an unworthy son were amongst the number. To their efficacy in calling down the goodness of God upon me, I attribute the many hair-breadth eQcanpc anA wnnHf^rfiil dplivftranccs I afterwards experienced. . " iililllli!! :t!'^'. m: lliilli yiii 'i|H li'ii' ! Ill: I -'iir liili 90 In a biographical narrative, such as I am now writing, it must be evident to every candid reader, that the principal thing requisite is a strict adherence to truth. However deficient the present per- formance may be in many other qualities necessary to make it acceptable, I am very confident it will not be defective in this. Had I no other resource from which to collect materials than a fallacious memory, I should hardly Venture tp make this assertion; but ever since I left my native place I have almost constantly kept a diary, i„ which I have faithfully recorded every material circumstance that has befallen me : so that I have now many volumes of manuscripts of this nature before me from which to draw the substance of these memoirs' So scrupulously particular have I been when insert- ing recents facts in my journal, that I have frequently omitted very striking incidents, where there appeared the smallest doubt of their authenticity. This short digression is made with a view to con- vmce those who may peruse this narrative, that they are not reading a romance. To return :-.When I lost my father, I lost the best part, if not the whole, of my religion. Left for the first time, in the midst of strangers, to act entirely for myself, the Lord knows I acted very sinfully. Had not his all-wise providence graciously mterfered to over-rule my wicked conduct, I had certainly fallen a victim to my own folly. The serious impressions which a religicus edu- cation had madi^ iir»rt« «».» ~.:„j __ ,. "I' '" "V """" were not imme- diately, nor ever entirely, obliterated; but the re- *"? S n as I am novr candid reader, rict adherence present per- ities necessary •nftdent it will >ther resource 1 a fallacious 9 make this itive place, I , in which I circumstance e now many e before me, lese memoirs. when insert- ve frequently ere appeared view to con- ve, that they ", I lost the gion. Left, igers, to act [ acted very e graciously luct, I had • igirus edu- not imme- but the re> ■traint of an earthly parent being removed, the fear I then had of God was not suHiciently strong, to keep me from the commission of those particular sins to which my constitution and a depraved incli- nation naturally led me : though in the first open deviations from the path of rectitude, I enjoyed very little satisfartion. Conscience was yet tender, and her authority was not altogether denied. In the cup of sinful gratification, the bitter, at times, far exceeded the sweet. Such, more or less, is the nat^ Tc of those pleasures which the carnal mind so eageriy pursues. A few months after I was thus left to act for myself, an epidemical fever broke out, and raged very violently in Kingston, which proved fatal to numbers. This alarmed me, and the fear of death was so strongly impressed upon my mind, that 1 had no rest night or day, till i determined to retire into the country. To this re- solution I sacrificed a more lucrative situation than I could possibly expect to obtain there. But con- sequences of this nature I seldom attended to in those early days. I saw a very serious danger ap- proaching, and I verily believe that I was influenced from M)ove to Hee from it. When I communi- cated my intention to the gentleman with whom I lived, be consented to my leaving his office, and through his interest procured me a book-keeper's place upon a very healthy plantation only a fe^y miles from town. Here, for the fourth time, I en- tered upon an entirely new employment ; which ^ M not altogether suit my inclination ; yet my x&. r i ':;• •ill, moval to it afforded another striking instance of the Lord's watchful providence. About three months afterwards, having occasion to be in town upon some business, I called to see several of my old acquaintances; but heard that one had died of a yellow fever, about two months before ; another of a putrid fever, and a third of a purple fever, within a few days. In short, 1 found upon further in- quiry, that nearly all the young men with whom I had formerly associated, had in the short space of three months been launched into eternity ! I left them immersed in sin, and for aught 1 know they died in that state. Had I remained at Kingston, I certainly should have visited my friends m their ill- ness, and in this case it is morally certain I should have caught some of their many-coloured fevers, tnd shared the same fate. But divine mercy inter- posed, urged me to flee, and thus gave me further . space for repentance. I continued on this plantation about nine or ten months; frequently experiencing this same protect- ing mercy in various instances of imminent danger; yet still plunging deeper into the mire of sinful in- dulgence, totally regardless of that kind arm which kept me from sinking into perdition. In the latter end of the year 1759, when the ge- neral insurrection of the negroes took place, which proved so fatal to numbers of Europeans (some being cruelly murdered in their beds, and others in- humanly tortured), it pleased God to restrain those amongst whom I lived, so that not one of them of- f nstance of the three months in town upon ral of my old tiad died of a re ; another of e fever, within m further in- with whom I hort space of ernity ! I left t 1 know they it Kingston, I ds m their ill- tain I should oured fevers, B mercy inter- ve me further It nine or ten same protect- inent danger j of sinful in- nd arm which when the ge- place, which peans (some md others in- estrain those of them of- fered the least act of hostility, though there were j upwards of two hundred sufficiently armed td do mischief, and there were but two white men (the overseer and myself) on tlie plantation to oppose them. This signal deliverance was the prelude to many others. For several montJis after, guards . were constantly placed on all the high-ways to pre- : vent the rebellious negroes from assembling in num- bers, and during that time it came to my turn al- most every other night to stand sentry for several hours, in the open air, exposed to all tlie rains and dews of the season, which brought on many di». orders, and carried multitudes to their graves. Through mercy, I was still continued among the living and the healthy. In short, scarcely a day or an honr passed, whilst I remained on this island, that did not evidently display, in one respect or other, the watchful care of divine Providence in my preservation. Yet, wilfully ignorant, or crimi- nally forgetful, of the gracious power that thus sua- tained me, I slighted 1ii« goodness, overlooked his mercies, and deplorably departed from him both in heart and practice. I have already hinted that the serious impressions imbibed from a pious education were not entirely obliterated; but by this time they had lost great part of their influence, and as that diminished, the darling inclinations of a corrupt heart gradually prevailed, and so far gained the as- cendancy, that some of the most glaring sins, which at first appearance struck me with horror, imper- centlhlv Inst: tlif>ir At^fnrmifv in m^r ^vp" -»r«J T^-- --»■ .; — '~j '" "'J •vjrCai aiiv irtO- t'/ J I ! 11 24 teus-like, transformed themselves into innocent en- joyments. Thus advancing, Mtep by step, in die dangerous road of sin, I soon arrived at dreadful lengths ; drank in the deadJy poison with aH much eagerness as the thirsty ox drinks in water, and rushed on rapidly with the wicked multitude iu ttie broad way to eternal ruin. O ! what infinite obligations am I under to the Best of beings, who would not suti'er me to conthmc on this unhallowed spot! Had I died there, which to all human appearance was very probable, my soul must have been irretrievably lost. It is a com- mon expression amongst the wicked inhabitants of this island, and used to palliate their impious deeds ; ** Well ; there's no God in Jamaica." Happily for me, I found one there, of boundless compassion; or rather such an one found me there, and. forced me to flee from it, as he did Lot out of Sodom, with the utmost precipitation. In the present dissipated age, I am well aware that the doctrine of a supernatural impulse on the human mind, is, by many who call themselves ■Chris>- tians, entirely exploded as enthusiastic ; but without a full assent to this revealed truth, I really cannot rationally account for many circumstances in my past life, particularly for my conduct in the present instance; when a strange, and otherwise uaaccount- able, impulse induced .me to leave this polluted country. I had for some time past fondly indulged the hope of making a fortune in Jamaica; but, all on a sudr 25 den, I conceived such an inveterate dialike to the place, nnd to every thing connected with it, the heat of the chnmte, the i.npicty of its inhabitants, and danger of my situation, both with respect to body and soul; that I lesolved to leave it the first opportunity that offered. I sat down to dehbtrate on the step I was about to take, and could not for- bear lamenting how nuich I slu.uld disoblige the best of panuUs by thus throwing myself out of employment. Neither was I unmindful of the po- verty and distress which would probably await me in England. Without money, and without friends, I had no other prospect before me than that of becoming a common sailor or soldier. On the other hand, the gentleman on whose estate I lived, kindly promised, if I would stay with him, to niako' me overseer of another plantation, a place worth upwards of ^Coq a year. But all would not avail. Heaven had prompted me to flee trom this island, and no arguments, prospects of gain, or dread of consequences, could induce me to stay. Amongst the multitude of mercies with which the Lord has favoured me, my escape from this abandoned island must ever stand prominent. On the 22d of July, 176O, I left the plantation where I had been situated for nine or ten months, and went into town ; ar.d being by a friend intro- duced to the admiral, I solicited him (as having formerly belonged to the navy) to grant me a passage to England, in the Edinbuigli, about to sail with the first fleet. With this he readily com- c 26 plied, and gave an order for my being borne as a supernumerary. While the fleet was getting ready» I spent a few weeks very agreeably with a friend in the country ; and, with no small dt gree of plea- sure, embarked at Port Royal, on the 24th of Au- gust following : thus once more setting out anew in the world, altogether unprovided for, not knowing what future plan i was to pursue. But the same faithful God, who preserved me in Jamaica, was with me also in the midst of many perils on the great deep ; and, having landed me safe in England, graciously provided for me a few mouths after my arrival. On the day I embarked, coming from Kingston in an open boat, I was overtaken in a thunder- storm and thoroughly drenched with rain ; and, wt my clothes were not then on board, I was obliged to continue in that uncomfortable situation the re- mainder of the day, which brought on the first fit of sickness I ever had since my infancy. Two days before the ship sailed, I was confined to my 4iammock, and when out at sea was brought so low by a violent fever, that I expected every hour to be thrown overboard with several others around me who died of the same complaint. Yet, dreadful to think of ! though perfectly sensible of my danger, I had not the least painful conviction of my accu- mulated guilt, nor the smallest notion of Jesu« Christ as a Saviour. The prospect of a future state, just at hand, made no impression upon me ; neither did I feel the least terror at the approaching 27 om Kingston n a thunder- rain ; and, aii [ was obliged aatiou the re- 11 the first fit fancy. Two mfiiicd to my ought so low ry hour to be ( around me, , dreadful to f my danger, of my accu- 3n of Jesus of a future n upon me ; approaching pains of death. In short, I was dyinj?, and in every respect like the brute that por isheth ; though endued with all the faculties of a rational being •nd these in full exercise, unimpaired by bodily pain. O what a mercy, that I did not then die ! Where would my soul now have been ! Surely, not contemplating, as I trust it does with some degree of thankfulness, the imminent danger it has escaped. When 1 was, to all human appearance breathing my last, the surgeon of the ship admi- nistered a medicine, which God so singularly blessed, that it gave a sudden and favourabre turn to my disorder, and in a few days I was pronounced out of danger. The first time I got out of my hammock to make my bed, I found a large scorpion in it ; which had probably lain there a considerable time, and yet had never stung me. Such incidents as these may be thought by some too trivial to be mentioned ; but 1 trust I shall ever be enabled to look upon my deliverances from danger of this and every other kind, as the secret but certain effects of tlmt over-ruling Providence, to whose care I thankfully acknowledge myself in- debted for my present safety. Many striking cir- cumstances occurred during our voyage to confirm this truth ; as will appear in the sequel. The Edinburgh having been many years in the West Indies, and frequently hove down, was quite worm-eaten, rotten, and leaky, when we sailed from Port RoyaL Befoi '0 \mf£x V*t\A c 9 had got through the gulf of Florula, tlie hnks iiiCfMMd to such « ilvgree, lliut when we rcudicMl the Atluiitic, the hope of safety liud nearly expired, uiid dom falijjjue, and the dread of niuking, u noUhui NeriouaneHi pervaded the whole crew. So twfully alurniinj; was our situation, that I well reniendicr the euptaiu'ii re- proving an otlicer for laughing. On a very nu^- derute calculation, w« pumped out at least two thousand Urns n day ! however incredible this may appear, it rertainly was the case for Ncveral weekd; and tjome daNsi, it amounted to double that quan- tity. Be.side the chain-pumps, that are supposed to thiow out two or three tons in a minute, vvc had also four hand-pumps in use, and were frcqm ntly obliged to bail with buckets from the fore-hold In this deplorable condition, on the 1 2th of Octo- ber, 1760, we sustained the shock of one of the most violent tempests that perhaps had ever been known. Those who had been at sea for many years, and we had several such on board, particu- krly the captain, who had been round the world with Lord Anson, all agreed they had never seen a hurricane continue so long with such unabated fury. Three days and three nights we were exposed to it? uncontrolable power. To those who have never experienced a tempest at sea, it may be difficult to give a just idea of it; yet something of our dis- tressed situation may be conceivetl from its dread- ful and destructive effects. When it first came on, we were under a double-reefed main-sail and lore- sail, both of which it tore to pieces, and blew .:i » MMer}Mim\ iik«> a »hoot of thin pnpir ; and wlion ■ «iew intiin.»«uil wu!i with tliftirulty bt nt anci «ct, k ihurrd the nam<> t*Hti«. Nothing hut thr numt and yard now n main.d, and thiMr wrre ix|ntt.d vvery uiotntnt to follow. At first tli.> foro' of tht- wind wat no gri at that tlu- waves could not ri«s but were connKlh'd to du8h an(i br.-ak into a white foam, lo tiiat tiie win.le (u:ean, a^ far n.^ the eye could reach, appeared in the day-time like an extended plain of driven snow, and at night like an inuncnse forest on (ire. This terrific scene was soon suc- ceeded by another : the sea began to rise " moun- tains-high," and beat with such violence against our rotten ship, which we could scarcely keep above >vatcr in a culm, that it seemed next to impossible to keep her from foundering. Unable to keep her to the wind, we were obliged to scud before it, without any sail, at an amazing rate, rolling the' quarter-deck guns under water, her siiiirsH. At tliisi atvful moment he exclainud most biltcrly against the treatment of Heaven, that had niacU^ liim spend so many toilsome years in a se«)r(iiing and unhealthy climate to proeure a liule utallli ; and when with pain and trouble he had heaped it together, had tantalized him with a sight of the happy shore where he expected peaceably to enjoy it; but now with one cruel, sudden stroke had defeated all his hopes. The cutting reflections and bitter coinplaints which came from this man's mouth expressed such black despair, that he appeared more like a fiend of the bottomless pit, than a sinner yet in the land of hope. O ! how unlike in every respect to the con- duct of that exemplary Christian, the captain of the ship ! |\Vhen she first struck, it is rather re- markable that he was kept from falling as the rest of us did; and being providentially next the cabin- door, he ran immediately upon deck, and gave hii orders with so much composure and wisdom, that he appeared to be raised above the fear of death, having a smile on his countenance, though speedy dissolution seemed inevitable. From his exterior behaviour at this alarming moment, we may fairly conclude that he enjoyeu the greatest peace and serenity within, as a foretaste of that heaven of glory, into which, to all appearance, hf was just entering. When we reached the deck, saw our danger, and witnessed his unshaken conduct, we were ready to fall down and worship him, and ever /■ftcr held him hi the highest esteem. Were thcriT no other advantage to be derived from true reli- gion, than the composure of mind it gives in the time of danger, and the blessed hope it hclds out in the prospect of death; surely it ought to be"' anxiously cultivated by rational beings', who are sur- rounded every moment with dangers and deaths of various descriptions.^y the captain's distinct orders the vessel was presently put before the wind, and thus it pleased the Lord to prevent her striking a third time, which in all probability would have stove her to pieces. In this case all hope of preservation must have vanished ; for the ship's boat, if it could have contained us all, could not have swum live minutes in such a tempestuous sea; and our dis- tance from the shore excluded all hope of being saved in any other way. Indeed, it was next to a miracle that the ship did not founder at the first or second shock. It can only be accounted for, from the goodness of a compassionate God, who in the midst of wrath remembered mercy, and spared the whole for the sake of one real Christian. Through Divine goodness we were soon delivered from our fears. Upon sounding the ship's well, we found that she did not admit more water than usual. Still an awful dread hung over us of what might befal us, during the long, dark night just approaching ; close on a lee shore, blowing a hurricane, and afraid to carry sail to work oflf, lest the vessel, from the severe shocks she had suffered, should be over- strained. u 40 The cnptnin dfitormined not to keep the Hca that night, but to run at all events for the l-ght on M'hitehav.'U pier-head. Tlu^ danger was great if he should overshoot the mark but a few feet on either side. He took the hebn hiinsilf, and trusting to that ouuiiseient God to whom the darkness and the light are both aUke (Psahn cxxxix. 12), he pi- loted us safe into our h)ng desired bHven; aiul be- fore teu o'clock that night, we were all safely landed. Who wouUI not suppose, after such wonderful deliverances, that we should all have been anxious to express our gratitude to God, who had so gra- ciously preserved our lives? For my own j)art it was quite the reverse. The shameful truth nuist not be concealed. Tliis unmerited kindness had not the least ertect on my future conduct. Perhaps on step- ping out of the ship, I might carelessly thank God that I was once more on shore ; but even this feel- ing soon passed away. The ingratitude of man in his unregenerate state is beyond all conception astonishing ! Repeated ter- fors, and doubly repeated mercies, penis, and de- liverances from death itself, in all its hideous forms, will prove ineflfectual to rouse the sinner to a sense of gratitude. Only ihe Spuit of God, by his quickening influence, can ttfect the gracious work. This solemn truth, alas! was too fully confirmed in me. Notwithstanding all that had passeil, I con- tinued to drink into ±e spirit of the world with as «r..i/.k £>arr^^rii^ca !l<3 PV<^r: WaS HOt ODIv lOUUd 06* 41 irate state eattil ter- I, and de- s hideous inner to a n\f by his Dus work, itiriiied in d, I con- Id with as lound de- lighting in all itM fooliali pUasuroM and vanities, tia far usi n»y pecuniary circunwtances would allow ; but was too frequently drawn into the conuniaMion of grosser sins, with little or no remorse. A few days after our signal deliverance, I well remember spending the evening in a gentleman's house at cards, and, though never habitually given to drink- ing, I afterwards became so completely intoxicated, that I was removed in a senseless state to another part of the room; and, when the company broke up, was carried through the streets to my lodgings, more like a brute than a human being. Thus did 1 requite the Almighty for his preserving mercy! What will not the human mind be guilty of, when left to its own propensities ! In reviewing the past, I have enough to humble me, to mourn over, and be ashamed of, all my days. Undetermined what course to take, and having little or no money to discharge my lodgings, I waited three weeks at Whitehaven, until I should hear from my parents, or some of my relations, in Scotland. I dreaded the receipt of a letter from my father, knowing how much he would be displeased with the hasty step I had taken in leaving Jamaica. I was not disappointed in what I feared ; for he sent a long epistle, sharply reproving me for my very inconsiderate conduct; at the same time laying open the distressing s ate of his own affairs in such a feeling manner, that I regretted as much as he did the rashness of my late decision. But it was 4a d now too late tor cpent, aiui I had the satiifaction t« find, that notwithstanding my faJlitVii ditpleanura, his purontul afToction was not abated. He pitied my situation, and sent u sufliciency to supply my present wants. Among other domestic intelligence, he informed me of the death of ray pious grand- father, with whom I was brought up in my youth, ■nd who was dear to me on many accounts. The venerable saint had reached his nmetieth year, ■nd in his dying moments prayed for me, and ex- pressed a very anxious concern for my welfare. The manner in which my father communicated this circumstance, afTectcd me very much ; and for time it threw a veil of seriousness over my outward deportment : but the impression soon wore off, and I returned to my old sinful course, having all my thoughts, words, and actions, almost wholly di- rected to temporal enjoyments. On the 13th of December, 176O, I began my journey to London ; and having no inducement to be expeditious, I thought it my duty to be careful of the little pittance ^ had, and therefore chose the cheapest rather than tho quickest mode of travelling : sometimes walking, sometimes riding on horseback, but mostly in the stage waggon. At the end of three weeks, I arrived in Cheapside. If the Lord had not been with me now, what would have be- come of me? I shudder at the thought ! In the centre of a profligate city, exposed to all its al- luring vices, with a constitution ready to comply with the first temptation, and not a friend to com. 43 imssionato or direct me ; wai it not mure than pro- biiblu that I ahuiihl taku a wrong rather than a right •tep ? ICspecially a« my pecuniary reiourcei wer« •o nearly exhauvted, thut I hud nut mure than auf- licient to defray my rxpense* thruugh half of another week. Glory to God ! He did not suffer uie to full in this duugerouM iiituation; but brought me ut lust through every difticulty, and placed rat in thai line of life in which I continue to the pre- lent duy: yet, not before ho had entirely over- turned all my own plans, at well at those of my friends. The first step I took, after my arrival in London, was to wait on one of my fellow-passengers, a man of property iu Jamaica; who, intending to return thither, had, in the course of our short acquaint- •nee, promised to take me with him as a clerk, ia case I was not better provided for at home. Thus, however courageous I was in my determination to leave that wicked and unhealthy island, thinking I could go through any hardship rather than remain there ; yet, when it came to the push, p©verty and wretchedness fast approaching, my heart failed, and I determined one way or other to effect my return. My pretended friend received me coolly, stating that he had made up his mind to remain in Eng- land, and was sorry that he could do nothing for me ; I therefore immediately resolved, as a last re- source, to ship myself off in the first vessel I should meet with bound to Jamaica, well knowing I could there find immediate employment. What 44 hi> i ■ a mercy that 1 was not suffered to put this design into execution ! The \ -iry thought of it, at this dis- tance of time, makes nie shudder! Had not the Lord interposed, I should in all probability have returned, and died there, a perfect stranger to every thing good. Fully bent on this plan, I thought it "was my duty, first to deliver some messages my fa- ther had given me to piarticular friends in London; and accordingly went early, in the morning of the third day after my arrival, to my father's agent, on Tower- hill ; but how great was my surprise, after having made myself known, to be informed that I was ap- pointed purser of the Sea-horse man»^of-war. With a mixture of joy and fear, I eagerly inquired further. He told me the warrant had been gi\>i to my father some weeks before, but he, declining to accept of it, had prevailed with his patron, Sir Harry Erskine, to have it filled up in my name. Overjoyed at this very unexpected good news, I set off with all pos- sible speed, to pay my respects to my generous benefactor. But, alas! this promised joy, like all others in the present world, was very transient. Sir Harry told me I had, through his influence, been appointed purser of the Sea-horse ; but as he had not been able to get any intelligence of me among my father's friends in London, and as the ship was ready to sail, the Admiralty had given the warrant to another person only eight days before. How 'clearly do these incidents mark the inten- tions of an all-wise Providence towards me. Had I r0"lP linr.lf> in tVlf Ti'.rlinhiirnrli T <^<3r<-aipKr uK.-\ii1r) > 45 have been purser of the Sea-horse ; or if I had re- mained three hours longer in \*'hitehaven, I should^ as I afterwards ascertained, have received another letter from my father, informing me of this appoint- ment; and of course 1 should have posted to Lon- don to take up my warrant. But no! This was not tiie will of my heavenly Father. However I might then grieve and murmur, at what 1 called an adverse Providence, 1 now clearly see his wisdom and goodness in ordering it as he did. All hope of procuring a situation in London being at an end, I opened my case to Sir Harry, and begged tha fa- vour of his interest to do something for me. He very obligingly said he would try to get me a com- mission in the marines, but observed he had very little hope of succeeding. No sooner had I made my bow, than I again de- termined to pursue my former resolution of return- ing to the West Indies. O what shall I render to the Lord, who would not suffer me thus to run headlong to destruction! While depriving me of every prospect of being comfortably settled in the world, he was secretly leading me through the intri- cate mazes of his providence, in a way thai [ knew not, that at the end I might be constrained to ex- claim, with the Israelites on Mount Carmel, " The Lord, he is God." i Kings xviii. 39. From Sir Harry Erskiue's, I went directly to Chelsea, to call on a Mrs. Hay, one of my fa- ther's friends ; and although I had never seen this iady before, the Lord inclined her heart to become 46 ti true and valuable friend to me also. And Burclj never poor mortal had more need of one than I, being at that time reduced to my last shilling. How seasonably the Lord's mercies are distributed! It has been well observed by Dr. Watts : *< Just in the last distressing bour, The Lord displays delivering power." 1 have often proved it so in my weary pilgrimage through life, and particularly at this juncture, though I did not then see as I do now. When Mrs. Hay knew who I was, and was made acquainted witl: my situation, she first very kindly invited me to re- main in her house, and afterwards treated me more like a son than a stranger. She supplied my pecu. niary wants, and purchased several articles of ap- parel in which I was deficient. After some days, she advised me to go to her husband on board the Hoyal George, who was then secretary to Sir Edward Hawke, who might have it in his power to provide for me in the line of a purser ; and in the meantime I was sure to be employed as a clerk in his office, and should be upon the spot if any thing desirable occurred. This I much approved of, and by her advice, waited on Sir H. Erskine to inform him where he would find me, in case he should have it in his power to make good his promise. On the 14th of January, 1761, I set off in the stage-coach for Portsmouth, having at last re- linquished my visionary plan of returning to Jamaica. | Though I am anxious to shorten my narrative as 47 much as possible, yet I cannot forbear taking notice of some of the providential mercies I experienced at this period. Before we roji'hed Portsmouth, the coach being full of passLiigei s, was overturned, and the coach- man thrown tioni his box; yet not one person was in the least hurt, not even an infant who fell from its mother's arms, in the inside, and was found be- neath us. Had tlie horses taken fright, the conse- quences might have been fatal. On my arrival at Portsmouth, I fully expected to find the Royal George at Spithead, or to procure a speedy passage to her in the bay, where she was cruising ; but in this I was disappointed, and must have gone on board the guard-ship, had not the Lord, who never forsook me in an extremity, in- clined the heart of one of my coach companions to invite me to stay with him on board the Blen- heim hospital-ship, till a convenient opportunity should offer of going out to the Royal George. Here I remained upwards of three weeks, when finding that the only certain conveyance to the men- of-war off Brest, was from Plymouth, I deter- mined to go thither, and accordingly embarked oii board the Cormorant fire-ship, under orders for that port. Here again, I found myself in a great strait: my finances being exhausted, I had not wherewith to pay my quota, if I messed with the petty officers ; but the surgeon of the Blenheim had recommended me to the captain, who very obligingly invited me to his table. I: 48 These are trivial incidents; but they were very i„,portant ones to me at that time, and I wish ever to remember them as marks of Divine care for me; and as such, I shall here mention another of a si- „,ilar kind. Being detained on board the Cormo- rant, at Cowes, in the Isle of Wight, for nearly a mouth, by strong westerly winds,! grew weary ; and being anxious to know something about the Royal George, I set oif early one fine morning in the pas- sage-boat for Portsmouth, purposely to inquire at the admiral's office, if she were soon expected in port. I fully intended to return to Cowes by the first boat, as I had but just money enough left for this purpose ; but, to my great sorrow, about noon it began to blow a most violent gale, so that none of the boats would venture out for several days. Never was I placed in a more distressing situation. A perfect stranger in Portsmouth, with only a few pence in my pocket, 1 continued walking round and round the ramparts nearly the whole day, till I was so completely worn out with fatigue and hunger, that the violence of the wind almost drove me off my legs. Night was approaching. Finding it im- possible to continue in this state much longer, and being well nigh distracted, I began to de- vise schemes where I should rest, and how I could satisfy a craving appetite. At last 1 fixed on the following expedient : having a pair of silver buckles on my shoes, the gift of an affectionate sister, I determined, though grieved at the deed, to take them to some Jew in the toyvn, and exchang them fo would p Just as plan int( manner the banc answerer along V friend I the wea morant s God wh cxlvii. 9 the want seek hin seasonal But ha I have V in the r< under a Two for Plyn inquire f she had . lobta Southair Channel long and Royal G with grei and plac 49 them for metal ones ; in hope that the oterplui would procure me a lodging and purchase some food. Just as I was stepping off the rampart to put my plan into execution, I was accosted in a very friendly manner by an old acquaintance, who shook me by. the hand, and asked me if I had dined. When I answered in the negative, he replied, " Then come along with me, we are just in time." By this friend I was plentifully supplied for a few days, till the weather permitted me to return to the Cor- morant at Cowes. Thus the same compassionate God who feeds the ravens when they cry (Psalm cxlvii. 9), was at no loss to find means to supply the wants of an ungrateful mortal, who did not then seek him by prayer, nor acknowledge the benefit so seasonably bestowed. But having since been several times at Portsmouth, I have walked round the ramparts with a glad heart, in the recollection of his mercy, praising the Lord under a feeling sense of his goodness. Two days after my return, the Cormorant sailed for Plymouth ; but no sooner had I landed there to inquire for the Royal George, than I was informed she had just arrived at Spithead ! I obtained a passage back to Portsmouth in the Southampton fiigate, after a short cruise in the Channel. At length on the l6th of March, after long and anxious expectation, I got on board the Royal George. My friend Mr. Hay received me with great cordiality, entered me on the ship's books, and placed me in the admiral's office till somethin&r 50 more advantageous should offer. Here I enjoyed a quiet and easy life for about two months, having little more to do, than to write out and copy orders ; but I still remained perfectly insensible of the good- ness of God, and even without a thought that I was in any way indebted to hiin for my present situation. On the 22d of May I was sent for by the com- manding officer, who informed me that my friend Sir Harry Erskine had procured me a commission in the marines, and that he had received orders to discharge me from the Royal George, that I might proceed to Chatham, the division to which I was ap- pointed. This was rejoicing news, as it placed me at once beyond the dread of future poverty, and fixed me in a line of life which my proud heart ap- proved, and in whicii, through rich mercy, I have now been preserved upwards of fifty-three years. Having obtained from my friend a sufficiency to pay my expenses, I proceeded to London, and calling on my kind benefactress at Chelsea, remained there several days until I was completely equipped as an officer. On the 4th of June I went to court in my uniform, and on the 6th I joined head-quarters at Chatham* To enumerate the various and multiplied mercies, both of a temporal and of a spiritual nature, which I have received at the hands of God in this well- known spot, would be an undertaking far beyond my power to accomplish. Though Infinite Wisdom found it necessary frequently to correct me, to pre- ..^^4^ .^ir follitifr f\r tn rfstnm mv Roul ^Psalm xxui.). nil ' ' ! M liat I was situation, the com- ny friend m mission orders to 1 1 might I was ap- >laced me erty, and heart ap- yr, 1 have ee years, icy to pay id calling ned there ped as an urt in my uarters at 1 mercies, ire, which this well- ir beyond ; Wisdom le, to pre- lim xxiii.). yet, blessed be his name, he has favoured me with many visits of his reconciled countenance, the re- membrance of which is sweet to me at this moment, when viewed as pledges of my ere long enjoying the full blaze of his glory in Heaven. In this town, ten years after the events I am now narrating, the Lord was graciously pleased to reveal to my rejoicing heart the best of all his blessings — the Lord Jesus Christ ; witnessing by his Spirit that he was bestowed freely, " without money and without price" (Isaiah Iv. 1), that the whole praise might redound to his infinite mercy. Of what avail would all his other blessings have been without this ^ This alone constitutes them real blessings. Without Christ Jesus, I had turned them all into a curse. The possession of this " unspeakable gift" (2 Cor. ix 15) turns every thing to gold : losses, crosses, disap- pointments, and threats of every description, are made to answer the most salutary purposes ; while riches, honours, and worldly prosperity, without it, have the seal of condemnation visibly impressed upon them. For the three years previous to this period, having been tossed about from place to place, in a very un- settled state, I had little opportunity and much less inclination, to attend the means of grace, or to read good books. But now having more spare time than I well knew how to employ, my early habits involun- tarily returned to my recollection. I began to consider how I could most advantageously employ mv Ipisnrp and nrrordinwlv laid down a regular D 3 plan for the performance of religious duties, t« which I strictly adhered. Most of my ancestors having been members of tlie Church of Scotland, and having myself been educated under my pious grand- father, a minister of that church in West Anstruther, I thought it was not my duty to leave it, and therefore joined a Presbyterian congregation at Rochester. I constantly attended divine service, received the sacrament once a month, made a conscience of strictly performing my private devotions, and I be- lieve was considered by most who knew me, to be a very good Christian. Nay, Pharisee like, 1 was very much inclined to think so myself. But whatever I might be in my own eyes, or in the eyes of otliers, 1 certainly was far from being right in the sight of a pure and holy God. As yet I was ignorant of the depth of iniquity in my depraved heart ; I had but very indis- tinct views of the extent and spirituality of God's holy law, and no just conceptions of the heinous nature and dreadful effects of sin ; consequently could not fully appreciate the value of the precious blood she ^ to take it away, or heartily love or be- lieve in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was manifested to rescue his people from the bondage of sin (Matt. i. 21). So far from partaking of this happy freedom, I still remained the willing slave to various sinful lusts and passions, and felt no remorse in daily doing many things I should shudder to think of now. Naturally led to keep company with my brother officers, though npt habitually addicted to tiieir common vices (except that of gaming) ; yet ; I \» I having id, and ) grand- truther, icrefore Chester, ved the ence of id I be- e, to be , I was vhatever atlicrs, I )f a pure depth of jry indis- of God's heinous lequently precious ve or be- lanifested e of sin lis happy ;o various morse in r to think with my dieted to ling); yet 63 too fond of associating with them, I was impercepti- bly induced to imitate their bad customs, and too fre- quently their grosser sins. Thus I continued for se- veral months ; and, however strange it may appear, even then, from the severe checks of an awakened and tender conscience, I made some progress in a religious life. Indeed my experience at this period appears a perfect paradox, and obliges me to relate things apparently irreconcilable, because they were true. Though I was frequently with little remorse falling into sin, yet by the power of restraining grace, I was enabled to cut off many sins as dear to me, as a right hand, or a right eye. Having had great ex- perience then, and since, in these painful operations, I would recommend it to those who are determined to be " on the Lord's side'* (Exod. xxxii. 26), to be resolutely expeditious. If a limb of our body is to be amputated, and an unskilful surgeon, instead of doing it in a few minutes, should keep sawing and cutting it for a whole day, how dreadfully excru- ciating would such an operation be ! Just so it is in a spiritual sense ; the more you prune and spare a beloved lust, the more violent it grows, and the more difficult afterwards to subdue; but if you have courage effectually to destroy it at one stroke, the soul is immediately set at a happy liberty. When the Lord was pleased to convince me of the sin of spending so much valuable time at cards (my whole attention and thoughts being carried after them), I found it necessary, for the peace of my conscience, to set about a reforaiatiou. First I vowed, and that i n w V'M' rii tery solemnly, that I would only devote a certain time to them, and no more ; but lljis reiolutiou con- tinually failing, I next cieternuued only to play for a certain sum, and never to exceed it. When that would not do, I vowed smU niore resolutely to play only for recreation, d*»t»umiuing to Oe careful in the choice of the personi \s i Ui whom I played. But all proved ineffectual. The more I resolved, the stronger grew the sin . A multitude of broken vows heaped guilt upon guilt, and brought n« accuumlated load of sorrow upon my mind. So much so, that on one Lord's day, when I was to receive the sa- crament, before I approached that sacred ordinance, my conscience so keenly accused me on account of this beloved idol, that I hardly knew what to do with myself. I tried to pacify it by a renewal of all my resolutions, with many additions and amendments. I parleyed and reasoned the matter over for hours, trying, if possible, to come to some terms of accom- modatioi?, but still the obstinate monitor within cried out — " There's an Achan in the camp : ap- proach the table of the Lord if you dare.'* Scared at the threat, and yet unwilling to part with my darling lust, I became like one possessed. Restless and uneasy, I flew out of the house to vent my misery \vith more freedom in the fields, under the wide canopy of heaven. Here 1 was led to medi- tate on the happines? of tlie righteous, and the misery of the wicked in a future state. The im- portance of eternity falling with a ponderous weight upon my aoul, iaised such a, vcucmcat mdigaation my nan I another : S6 ' I B certain tiuu c ou- tlay for a hell that ^ to play ful in th« But all vcdy the ken vows so, that c the sa« rdinance, ccouut of lat to do wal of all indnients. or hours, if accoiu- r within imp : ap- Scared with my Restless vent my iinder the to medi- and the The im- us weight j: *; — 1 against " the accursed thing" within, that, crying tu God for help, I ktM^eled down under aheuge, aim tukiiiK Heaven and Earlh to witness, wrote on a piece of paper wiih my pencil n solemn vow that I never would play at urds, on am/ pretence what- soever, so long as I lived. No sooner had I pMt my name to this solemn vow, tlian I felt myself another creature. Borrow took wing and flew away, and a delightful peace succeeded. The intolerahle burden being removed from my mind, I approached c sacred table of the Lord with an unusual degre« of pleasure and delight. This was not my only idol. I bad many others to contend witli. But while I was endeavouring to heal my wounded soul in owe place, ere 1 was aware sin broke out in another. Yet still I kept striving, and at that time was far from thinking myself unsuccessful : conceiving my slate a very safe one, 1 was comfortable and chc3crhil. Indeed I have often wondered since at the happiness I then enjoyed. The thought has sometimes almost stumbled me. I loved the society of Christians, and sometimes had sweet commmiion with Qod in prayer and other ordinances. Nay, I have at times enjoyed such happy moments, such delightful inter« course with Heaven, particularly on an evening, that after having recommended my soul to God in fervent supplication, I haye lain down nith the greatest serenity of mind, and been ind^iterent whether I should ever open my eyes again in this world or not. > i 66 woik», but on tli« merry of Ootl as fretly mani. feiU'd ill Clirist JtBuu. Yet 1 remained a slranner to the tjuic kcning power of divmc grace wliMi){«> in diviiio thingNi but wan kept from briii}; t'titirely cnrried away by th« wicked cxampb*! with which I was daily sur- rounded. HeaiduH, the Lord wan pleased iiiuiij yearn ufte rwiirt In t . still stroiifflv hnmhited on niv tiie- Do b^ * % 58 mory. May I be enabled to do it with a thank- ful heart ! Foreseeing that on my discharge from the ship at Plymouth, I should be reduced to half- payj and consequently almost as much at a loss for a proper settlement in life as ever, I adopted an old plan of returning to the West Indies, and with that view entered into an agreement to change du- ties with an officer going to the coast of Guinea. We made a joint application for leave, but with- out much success; for though such a request is very readily granted in general, it was absolutely refused to us. Thus, greatly against my inclina- tion, was I obliged, in much mercy, to return to Chatham, where I sat under the glad sound of the glorious gospel of peace, instead of going to an unhealthy climate, where I never should have heard it, and whence, in all probability, I never should have returned. The other providential mercy with which I was at this time favoured, was a very nar^ row escape from sudden death. The evening I em arked on board the P — F — , to come round to Chatham, there was a hammock put up for me in the gun-room, into which I got very carelessly, never examining how it was hung. About day-break the quarter-master being obliged to shift the helm, on account of the tide's turning, the ship then at an an- chor in the Sound, the tiller came foul of my ham- mock, that was hung close up to the deck, and sqeeezed my head against one of the beams. I awoke rather surprised with an unusual pain in my head, but soon found it was jammed so 5d 4 fast between the tiller and the beam, that I could not get it disengaged. I then cried out for help, and idshipi there. )nian that happened to ing my distress, ran upon deck, shifted the helm, and released me. Upon my knees, I thanked God for this wonderful deliverance. With David I could say, " There is but a step between me and death" (1 Sam. xx. 3); for had the quarter-master continued to turn the wheel, which he would have done if the midshipman had not seen my situation, and prevented him, he must have fractured my skull, and put a period to my existence. Alas! I was then very ill prepared for dying. Sobn after my arrival at Chatham, being with many others reduced to half pay, I set oflf lor Lon- don; and being very desirous of visiting my pa- rents, whom I had not seen for several years, I en- gaged in the i^irst ship sailing for Scotland, and ar- rived at my father's house in June, 1763. The state of my mind at this time, as near as I can recollect, was that of a proud Pharisee. I had too high an opinion of my own holiness; and though my out- ward carriage and conversation migfit indicate a species of humility, the language of my heart was to those around me : " Stand off : for I am holier than you." I foolishly imagined that I had now attained to such a happy proficiency in the religion of Jesus, that it was impossible for me ever to fall into gross sins again. 1 do not recollect that I had "n the least idea of my own weakness, or once saw the absolute need of constantly deriving I 60 I ill strength from Christ to withstand the slightest temptation to evil. My heart also began to be again canned away by an anxious solicitude about tvhat measures I should take to provide for myself in the world. To give triyself up entirely into the hands of Providence in this matter, was a lesson I liad not yet learned, neither did I see it requisite that my religion should be constantly interwoven with all I did, that whether I ate or drank, it should all be done to the glory of God (1 Cor. :i. 31). My idea of religion at this time seemed to be very different from that of the Apostle in the place above alluded to. I thought it should never interfere with our worldly business ; and as is too frequently the case with others, when engaged in secular affairs, I frequently left it behind and forgot I had any. A restles'^. worldly spirit, kept me from settling with niy parents in Scotland: I remained with them onlv a fev' months, and then set out for Lon- don, w il>« a view to push all my interest to get into full pny, and if that should fail, to try to get into some public office, or merchant's counting-house r but God in his providence, having designed a very different plan for me, overturned all my schemes. 13 PART II. Conclusion of the Author's Narrative, Iremained nearly a year in the house of my kind friend, Mr. Hay, and when I was quite worn out with disappointments, being as far from any ap- pearance of a settlement as ever, a proposal was made to me by Mr. and Mrs. Hay, to accompany their son to France. I readily accepted the offer, but fery undutifully neither consulted nor acquainted my parents about it, till it was too late : for I had left England almost as soon as they knew my inten- tion. But never did a poor deluded creature re- pent any thing, so much as I did this rash step. I then saw no danger ; but when I now take a se- rious review of the six long years of bondage I en- dured in that strange land of leviti/ and guilt, how melancholy does the retrospect appear ! O, what a valuable portion of the prime of my life did I there impiously squander. How far, very far, did I de- part from God, and by my repeated and aggra- ysrted crimes provoke him to his face! And, yet— fmm \g\\Tf\ irio'vrkV'oooir^izi l/^*-irv 0iiTHkr\»*vv%/** *~,.nr^4- nil _^_ J^mm^^^-JX r ^ ■ ^^^^H ' ^■^1 ^^^^^^^^H ^^^^^^^H i B^ ^^^^^^^^^H ^^^^^^^^^^^H -9 ^I^^^H ^ 'jB H^if- r.4to- IhI Hm^^^H ^B^^^^S H ' HI . ..life ^^^^^^^^^^^^1 62 prehension !) I was not consumed. Though I was frequently brought, by severe fits of sickness, to the verge of the grave, his supporting arms were underneath, snatching me in the critical hour from the jaws of destruction — " that in me He might shew forth all long suffering, for a pattern to them which should hereafter believe on him to life ever- lasting" (1 Tim. i. 16). So dreadfully puffed up was my pharisaical heart, that if an angel from Heaven had told me when I embarked for France, that 1 should there depart from God in the manner I really did, both in heart and practice, I verily be- lieve I should have flatly contradicted him. I am now firmly persuaded that such an awful lapse as I then experienced, was absolutely necessary to make me humble and circumspect. I bless God, whose prerogative alone it is to bring good out of evil, that with infinite wisdom and love, he so ordered this circumstance as m a great degree to produce the desired effect. If I can trust my own heart in any thing, I now dread the thought of being left to myself as the worst of evils. But God forbid that I, or any professor of Christianity, should ever take encouragement fiom this " to do evil that good may come" (Rom. iii. 8). I here solemnly declare, I would not be again in such a dangerous state as X then was for several years in France for millions of worlds. If God had not mercifully pre- served my life, and given me timely repentance, how awful would have been the consequences ! T\. *1 — A. U.'^.Ac :^ p^^„^. T ../»— *u« 4i^r.^ ^.. ^f . — , «i !« ■;« w I - m 1 gh I was (ness, to ms were )ur from ie might » to them life ever- uifed up gel from r France, e manner ;rerily be- n. I am apse as I \l to make [1, whose t of evil, ) ordered produce 1 heart in ng left to rbid that uld ever evil that solemnly langerous ranee for fully pre- jeatance, ijueiices ! _ T .-.__ c^ .a. waa 63 so constantly employed in the study of the language, the mathematics, &c. that I was not so much ex- posed to those temptations which afterwards proved so fatal to me. But being deprived of the conver- sation of pious people, and of all the public means of grace, such a coldness anddeadness of soul en- sued, to every thing of a spiritual nature, that the fear of God and the power of religion gradually wore off my mind, until a broad and easy way w us made for all the mischief that succeeded. Had I Teturned to my native country with the person who took me out, it would have been a happy circum- stance ; but, to my great regret, Mrs. Hay, w^o had hitherto beeu my best friend, now became iry greatest enemy, and was so inveterately prepossessed with a false notion that I had ill-used her son, that all the arguments I could possibly use never altered her opinion. But God, who sees the hearts and actions of men, knows 1 was unjustly accused. The breach was several times made up, through the medium of her son, and an intimate French acquaintance; but the enmity in her heart against me still remained, and we finally parted. She lived several months afterwards in the same place ; and, though I shewed her all possible respect during that interval (and every body that knew her blamed her conduct with respect to me), yet so strongly was the prejudice rooted, that she went to Englaiu; with her son, and left me behind to shift for myself in the centre of a strange country, at least eight hnndrp.d miles from lioine- with nothing more tt in n^ es %«Bji^*e ■,-%« «»«»** 64 my half pay to subsist on. I then thought this would have been sufficient, but a few years trial convinced me to the contrary. Mr. Hay. the fa- ther, notwithstanding what had happened, still con- tinued my friend, and some time after sent me suffi- cient money to carry me home. Unhappily for me, ere this help came, I had been unwarily led into a fatal connexion, which 1 had no iuclhiation to break oft'; and Satan had so effectually blinded my eyes that I wrapped myself up in a golden dream of ease and pleasure, and determined to spend the remainder of my days in France. But when I awoke from this slumber, a few years after, and saw my error, I had not the means of returning to England. When Mrs. Hay left me to myself, I had not altogether forgotten the religion I imbibed at Chatham; which prevented me from plunging di- rectly into an open course of sin. But Satan, who knew a much more effectual way to draw me over to his side than by a direct attack, made use of fraud, and fatally succeeded in his cruel purpose. Had he tempted me at first to the commission of some flagrant sin, I probably should have spurned the tempter with horror. But he being too crafty for me gilded his bait so well, that I could not forbear swallowing it; and when the hook was well fastened, he led me wherever he pleased. O how fatal is the first deviation from the path of recti- tude ! Though it may perhaps appear so trifling as to be deemed innocent, yet, alarming thought! it is wrapped up with death and destruction^ and f IP 65 may terminate in both. To set the subtlety of the enemy of souls in a clearer point of view, I will here select one instance out of many, to delineate the multitude of insnaring traps he laid for me, and the artful insinuations he used, to oblige me to break tiie vow I had made respecting card-playing, A thousand times was it suggested to me, that I had made a rash vow. I had not been long in the country, before my French acquaintance, who saw I had an eager desire to learn the language, used. every argument to persuade me to play at cards, as the most effectual way of learning the com- mon conversation : but I was not altogether so much off my guard as to be foiled by the first at- tack. I saw the force of their repeated arguments, but durst not yet comply with their requests. When I visited any neighbouring family, where my countrymen joined in the dance and at the card- table, while I obstinately declined these amuse- ments (at least the cards), they were caressed and esteemed, whilst I was looked upon att a poor crea- ture who had no education, who did not know the knave of clubs from the king of diamonds. This my proud heart could hardly bear, especially when looking over their shoulders, I have perceived that I knew the game much better than those who held the cards. I wonder I held out so long ; for I was then altogether ignorant of Satan's devices in this matter. His plan of operation was so deeply laid, that I did not perceive it till God by his Spirit opened my eyes some years afterwards. And then i (I : M looking back, as near an I can recollect, these and the following were the methocU the (ievil made U8e of to insnare nte. My greatest coutlicts with this teiuptution were when i happened to be the fourth person in a company of select friends, and a party of cards was proposed, when there was no possi- bility of playing without me. Immediately foU lowed the most earnest solicitations, not to deprive them of the pleasure of an innocent amusement. Perhaps two of the three would be female ac> quaintaoce, for whom I had a very sincere and ten- der regard. These latter, with a thousand in- sinuating and persuasive arts, would exert their ut- most skill to engage me to a compliance; but still I was enabled leaoluteiy to resist }*ud avoid the snare. After this defeat, one might naturally think the enemy would desist from any further attack ; but Satan is not so soon discouraged as many Christians are. He began a fresh onset from another quarter, in which, to my shame, he at last too well succeeded. It was hardly possible for me, had I been disposed, to avoid company; conse- quently I was every day an eye-witness to card- playing. It sometimes happened that one of the party being called out of the room upon urgent bu- siness, would leave his cards and money upon the table, and earnestly beg of me to take his hand till he returned. The other players would back his so- licitations, and use all the force oi argument to in- duce a compliance. When I alleged my vow (for by this time I had been obliged in my own defence w to ackuowledge that 1 had made a very solenin ooe% they very artfully told ine that they did not look upon the present circumstance as a breach of it ; that the money and cards were not mine, but be- longed to the person who bad only begged of m« to take them in his absence. Woo, alas ! by thil argument, I at last consented. Conscience took the alarm, and grew clamorous : I endeavoujred to silence it as well as I could, by replying that I was not playing for myself, but merely for tfie person who had left the room. This I did several times, till at last it happened that X lost all the person'* money for whom 1 was playing. He not returning during this run of bad luck, some of the company would lend him money, and sometimes I resorted to my own purse ; till at length the cards grew so familiar to me by frequent repetitions of this kind, and the itch for gaming became so predominant ; tliat, proceeding from one step to another, I at last persuaded myself that the vow I had formerly made was a very rash one, and not now to be regarded. This reasoning suiting my inclination, I broke through it with little or no remorse. Heaven left me to myself, till, in a very short time, 1 ran to such a length that not only every week-day, but almost every sabbath-day, for two or three years to- gether, I spent my time at cards, the billiard-table, or the theatre. Without the least regard to that sacred day, I constantly polluted it by indulgence in every carnal pleasure; and 'hough my conscience did not fail to tell me it ought to be kept hqly, and II i i i , i was even so far convinced of it as to admonish others i yet so prevalent was the force of example, that I swam dowii the torrent of iniquity without interruption. It would be too tedious to enter into a minute detail of my wicked practices at this time , neither would such a particular account be either ^useful or agreeable to some of my pious friends, who may perhaps hereafter peruse this narrative. Let it suffice that my time was almost wholly employed in gaming, dancing, and reading. The first of these was my bosom sin, in which I delighted, and to which I sacrificed many valuable hours. The se- cond, with all that train of soul-deceiving amuse- ments and carnal pleasures beyond which French- men in general have hardly any idea of happiness, I should have been constrained to pursue, even though my natural disposition had been averse to them. I was always fond of reading, and when once fairly set down to it, I read a great deal. But what may perhaps appear very strange to some, though certainly true, 1 received more real injury from this, than from the other two amusements. I kept a catalogue of the books 1 read during my stay in France, which amounted to about four hundred volumes, chiefly French and Italian au- thors; such as Voltaire, Rousseau, D'Alembert, Tasso, Ariosto, &c. &.c. In English, I read Hume, and some others. In the perusal of these authors I bewildered my mind with a confused train of _u:i u: 1 __».: i T i..-,n.. i^-* „:^u* ^e 60 true religion, and al^ revealed trulh; so that the groHnest Mins, which formerly seemed heinous, now aiisunicd u very different aspect, and appeared to be nothing more than lawful gratifications. In short, I was prepared by these emiasarieH of Satan for tho commission of almost any sin to which occasion or inclination might lead mc. No^ that I became altogether a convert to their atheistical principles ; for, as I never could find any two of them exactly agree in any one thing, J. naturally concluded they were all wrong. Still their poisonous notions so infected my mind, that from them I drew conse- quences of my own; plunged into an abstruse laby- rinth of diabolical reasoning, and gradually began to doubt the authenticity of the Scriptures, the im- mortality of the soul, and even the existence of a God. Not that I ever acted from the full persua- sion that there was no God, no future state, nor any truth in the Scriptures; but these things fre- quently appearing very dubious, I was kept in a kind of perplexing uncertainty, and acted from no principle at all, living just as a wicked heart and the " God of this world" chose to lead mc. I well remember suffering a great deal about this time, from the tormenting fears that my soul would perish with my body. I saw no evil in what Christians called sin, and consequently had no dread on tliat account; besides, I had made a God of my own (when I could persuade myself there really was one), so merciful and so very kind, that I thought if I could but be assured my soul was im- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I ;f 1^ m ■^ 1^ 12.2 |u ,^ III I, 40 12.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" ► VI ^s 'e^. a V 0%t ^ ^ A *> s>^ >(;^ Photographic Sdences Corporation 4^ i\ s \ Q^^ \ % V o "^^^^.^ c^ %^ ^9>'- 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 fP ^ riKT 70 I 4, mortal, I was pretty certain it would be happy. Nay, I so much dreaded the horrors of non-ex- istence, that at times I was ready to wish there might be a hell of endless torment in which the soul should live, rather than that it should die with the body, and be buried in eternal night. I used frequently to say to a friend, who lived in the same house with me, that I would give anything to know if my soul were immortal. The following free translation* from my journal contains the genuine ♦ At this time the author wrote his journal in French. The original of the passage, part of which is here translated, ia given, that it may be seeh with what elegance and freedom he could ex- press himself in that language. Avant que Vastre brillantde jour ait dor6 Ic sommet des mon- tagnes derriere lesquells il vient de se coucher, cette ann^e (courte portion de la vie humaine!)ne sera plus au nonibre de celles qnc I'Etre Supreme A deslih^ k reparoitre sur la scene, ponf mesurcr le duiree de notre sejouf ici has. Je ne puis done mieuk employer le peu qu'il en reste qua reflechir sur la fin de mon existence qui s'approche avec tant de rapidity. Mille dontes s'^l^veiit tour a tour dans mon &me et nie font trembler ! J'ignore ce que je suis ; encore plus ce que je dois 6tte. Si la mort doit detruire cette partie en moi qui peuse, qui raisonne, et qui desire, avec tant d'ardeur, d'etre assur^ de son existence dans on 6tat fulur, je suis un etre bicn m^prisable a mes propresyeux,au delade toute expression palheureux ! Si mon kme n'est qu'une organe dn corps plus delicatemeut arrangdej dont les ressorts nous sont meconnus, mais qui doit tomber en poussiere avec les antres, et rentrer dans le n^ant, que je dois maudire Je jour qui m'a vA naltre, et que je dois entretenir une id^e bien effrayaiite de celui . qui ne m'a dou6 de la faculty de penser que pour me faire mieux con* cevoir sa toute puissance exerc^e pour causer mon malheur. O 4. ~i A^M •«jkrf...»SM «.9M4-Atra«1 .■«c#ii.'o «.A i^ntni- .'\'lo i'ai KlOfl llPn niUrt, SI iVtt JIVUTV2I B dCU« Jita^^U « ^/'^ i^vmt, ^^-.'.^ J •». r/—:-— 5 t < 71 breathings of my soul, and gives a true picture of the unhappy state of my nriind at this period. « The last day of December, 1768. The sun is just set, and ere it again tinges the top of yonder mountains with its clieermg rays, the past year (short portion of human life!) will no more be reckoned among the number of those which the Supreme Being has destined to measure the dura- de te redouttr ! perdre tont d'un coup mea esperances flatteuse» d'une immortality ! Tomber dans nn moment de cet 6tat de per- fection ou je me pla^ois apre$ cette vie, dam tonte« Ics horrenn dii nt'ant ! Quel horriblecliangementl Se peut-il, Grand DIeu ! que tM nous as forin6 de la sorte ?— Nou. Regarder rhomme dans ce point de vue c'est foutrager ; un pariel ouvrage n'est jamais sorti de tes mains. Ta bont^ se manlfeste dans toute ce que lu as fail ; riiomrae sera-t-il le seul objet da ta liaine ? N'es tu pas I'auteur de sou existence ? Lui refuser I'anioUr patemel n'est pas compatible* avec ton essence. C'est ton image ; et tu I'aimes : voila la source inepiiisable de ma consolation. C'est la ce que me soutient dans tous les revers de la vie. Viehs maintenant, o mort, quand tu voudras ; toutes le» horreurs ne iti'effrayent plus ! Mon Createur Hi'aime. 11 a plac6 en moi lui m^me un desir ardent aprea I'immor. talite. II doit le satisfaire un jouryoo tromper un niaUieureux qui ne se fie qu'cn lui : mais comma il est incapable de tromper, je n'ai que des snjets de rejouissance tout autour de moi. La brievet6 de la vie, dont je me plaignois si ameremenf, memt>neraplutot dans le sein de la beatitude apres (pour) laquelle j'ai taut soupir6. La mort que j'ai tant redout^e n'est que la barriere qui m'en separe : une fois rompue, toutes mes craintes seront dissip^es, et tous mes nialheurs finis ! Insens^s que nous sommes ! nous voyons la plupart des choses a rebours. Ce que nous desirons le plus, est soHvent ce qui nous est le plus pernicieux ; et ce que nous fuyons avec tant de soin, nuit rarement a nos veritables interets. Helas! dans ce monde nous marchons dans les t^uebres^ au dela du tombeau ioui est clarte. I 72 tion of our abode in this world! 1 cannot then better employ the little that remains of it than in seriously reflecting upon the end of my existence, which approaches with such constant rapidity. A thousand doubts arise, one after another, in my soul, and make me tremble ; ignorant of what 1 now am, and still more so as to what I shall be! If death is to destroy in me this part which thinks, which reasons, and with so much ardour breathes after an assurance of its existence in a future state, what a despicable being do I appear in my own eyes! Beyond all expression miserable! If my soul is nothing more than an organ of my body more delicately wound up, whose secret and wonderful movements lie beyond the reach of human concep- tion, but which notwithstanding will one day moulder into dust with the rest, and return to its primitive nothing — how much reason have I to curse the day in which I was born ! And what a horrid idea must I entertain of Him who has only endued me with the faculty of thinking, that I may better conceive his Almighty power thus exerted to make me wretched? O Death, if thy dominion extends to this dreadful length, I have too much reason to tremble at thy approach! What ! lose all at once my flattering hopes of immortality, fall in one moment from that state of perfection where I fondly placed myself after this life, into all the horrors of non-existence ? Dreadful thought !" I generally concluded such reflections as these with arffuments to orove the immortality of th« 73 «oul, and drew a species of real comfort from them; but my doubts and fears were far from being re- moved: they frequently returned to grieve me, and perhaps would have been more intolerable had I not drowned them in pleasure and dissipation. This was a sad remedy ; but 1 thought it the best that could be applied in such a case, when I had no one near to give me better advice. I believe very few of God's people have been permitted to plunge so deeply into sinful levity and pleasure as myself; but, by the grace of God, being now drawn out of it, I feel impelled to stand up as an experienced witness, loudly to proclaim its total in- ability to administer one single grain of substantial happiness. It may, and too often does, silence for a while the unwelcome checks of conscience, and please the fancy with a .multitude of empty dreams and promises which are never realized. In its amusements time may imperceptibly steal away in mirth a ,.d laughter ; but I never could iind it stand the test of one hour's serious reflection. In health, "without the restraints of religion, it is next to impossible to withstand its allurements. In sickness, its aspect is deformed and disgjjsting, and the thought of it gives pain instead af pleasure. In death, no sight is so horrid and tormenting as a life spent in such vanity; it is the earnest of future and eternal misery. O how different, and how much more to be prized, is that pure unsullied pleasure which flows from a life of faith in the Soa oi God! In the hour of trial it will «tand the W ' ll • I \ 1 •J f m :t 74 strictest scrutiny. It acquires fresh lustre at the approach of sickness, sweetens the bitter cup of death, and transforms all its terrors into joys. Jesus will at last crown this grace with glory, and eternity will never witness its termination. Whatever por- tion of such heavenly pleasure I might have formerly enjoyed, I certainly was an entire stranger to it now. The various foolish pastimes, carnal pleasures, and sinful gratifications, in which the children of this world continually indulge, engrossed all my attention. I was firmly persuaded that if happiness was to be found in this world, it must be in such a life. Satan had so effectually blinded my eyes in this and many other respects, that I saw nothing of the gulf of sin into which I was now plunged, and consequently I had no dread of danger. Nay, so far was I from this, that I thought myself as safe as ever I had been ; and what may perhaps appear very strange, notwithstanding I was thus far gone into sin, 1 continued to pray twice a day, and every morning read a chapter in the Bible, supinely thinking while I did so all was well: when, God knows, such prayers as mine, so far from being acceptable, are an abomination in his sight. So little was my heart engaged in them, that I have not only found it for the most part thinking on something else, but frequently detected it so deeply engaged in a party at whist, or in a game of billiards, that I have left off pronouncing words, and never tecoUected what I was about till some sudden turn in the same, or unusual change of thought, would — — w »■ — - ■ m h n rouse me to reflect that I had kneeled down to pray. Being, by the grace of God, now brought to my right mind, and enabled to take a clear view of my daring provocations against him, and of his un- bounded mercy in not cutting me off, when wilfully transgresshig his holy law; or even in the midst of such sinful prayers as these, I am filled with won- der and astonishment that I should love him no more. It is the grief of my soul that I cannot ren- der unto him that thankful heart, which I know is more than due for his great forbearing love towards me. How often, while in this state of real rebel- lion against him, was I brought by severe fits of sickness to the very brink of the grave! And yet a secret something, which I could not then rightly comprehend, sweetly whispered that I should not die. Out of how many perils did he deliver me ! And from what dangers was I wonderfully rescued! I will mention one out of many, as an instance of his protecting goodness. I was riding one evening along a very rugged road, with a son of the Duke of N s, and two or three more of my giddy companions. My horse, when at full gallop, stumbled, and threw me over his head, to a distance of several paces, among the stones, without my receiving the least hurt ; though any one, who wit- nessed the circumstance, must have concluded my death to be inevitable : and no doubt this would have been my fate, if the hand of God had not in- eare was evidently i\ terioseds ^~'**S vj • £2 96 I „: 4 p' ■ ■J 1 jllj Wm J •hewn towards me in repeated instance, of this kind; but in nothing so much as in brmging me out of that dreadful state of security and sin into which I was voluntarily plunged. The gracious work, from first to last, was entirely his own. He re- jected my plan, and used another of his own ap- poihtment. Therefore I shall endeavour to be particular in this part of my narrative ; Ad may the •whole glory redound to Him to whom alone it ii du6* About two years before I was delivered from this worse than Egyptian bondage, the Lord im- planted in my heart such a strong desire to return to my native country, that nothing could divert my thoughts from the subject; that I had little or no relish for most of those worldly pleasures, in which I formerly took so much delight. I retired from company, and grew reserved and melancholy. But when, like the prodigal, I came seriously to con- sider about ways and means to return to my earthly father's house (for as yet 1 had no desire to return to my heavenly Father), I became completely mi- serable, from the seeming impossibUity of ever ac complishing my desires. I grieved and pined so much from this melancholy reflection, that niy health began to be greatly impaired : I did nol, however, remain inactive, but used every method that I could possibly think of, though in vain, to extricate myself from a thraldom that was now be- come intolerable. The principal obstacle that lay in thp wav. was mv pecumary embarrassment. Ho\^ :1 ?7 id from .Old im- return ivert my e or no in which ■ed from )ly. But f to con- y earthly to return etely mi- ever ac- pined so that my did nol, f method 1 vain, to ; now be- 3 that lay eut. How to discharge my debts, employed my daily thoughts* My father, with all the bowels of paternal love, offered to do his utmost for me ; but without essea* tially hurting himself and family, it was not in his power fully to extricate me. I was foolish enough to attempt to save a sufficiency for this purpose out of my half ; ay ; but a very short time con- vinced me, that that, with the greatest possible economy, was hardly sufficient to keep me from running further into debt. I then turned my thoughts another way, and endeavoured by a close application to gaming, to amass as much money as would just discharge what I owed, and carry me home to England. I sometimes had very sanguine hopes of succeeding, till at length the fancied Babel came tumbling down about my ears, and almost buried me in the ruins. By constantly dab- bling in the French lotteries, I lost my ready cash, and at the conclusion, found myself twenty pounds worse than when I began. The last resource to which I flew, proved by far the most tedious and laborious ; but it gave me much more flattering hopes than either of the others. It not only promised to procure me the necessary assistance, but puffed me up with ima- ginary notions of honour, and of gaining a shining name in the literary world. Spurred on by these prevailing motives, it is surprising what I went through in a close application to study for the space of a year and a half, in order to accomplish my design. Perhaps few Englishmen ever gave them- n I f selves half ihe troublo 1 did, to acquire a thorough knowledge of the French language. Many a morn- ing hail the riiing sun found me worn out with poring over my grammar and other rudiments of this tongue:— Till by perusmg «uch numbers, and making my own comments upon them, for three or four fears, 1 imbibed the true spirit of them all ; and having, from a constant and extensive eor- respondcnce, acquired some accuracy of style and facility of expression, I began to write short Essays on various subjects, both in prose and verse, particu- larly the latter, of which I was very fond. Some of these being handed about among my acquaintance were generally applauded; more I believe from French politeness, than because they really merited it. This however had such an effect on my vain mind, as urged me not only to continue composing, but now and then to publish some pieces in the pe- riodical pamphlets that were constantly teemmg from the press. These being generally well re- ceived, 1 was induced to look a little further still, and from an anecdote in the history of Scotland, laid the plan of a tragedy. I contrived the plot, fixed upon the characters, measured the acts, sketched out some of the scenes, &c. without any intention at first of making it a finished piece ; but M-hen I shewed it to some very intimate friends, they advised me to execute the plan I had so ac- . curately laid down ; and they painted, in such a pleasing manner, not only the profit, but the great honour lliat would accrue to me from sucw a per- ofough \ mom- It Mrith lents of rs, and liree or em all ; ve «or- l)'le and Essays particu* i^ome of uintance ve from merited my vain nposing, I the pe- teemmg well re- her still, tcotland, :he plot, he acts, lOut any ;ce ; but 5 friends, id so ac- 1 such a the great 2 a per- tormance, that I wat induced to commence the ivoik immediiitciy, big with tlio niont languiue liupei that in a very short time I should be able, by tlie strength of my own genius, tu woi k out • glorious deliverance from thut state of bondage into which my own folly had brought nie. I'oor, proud, insignitii'unt worm! This empty bubble supported me for eighteen months, and kept ine all iliat time so constantly writing, thut a severe paia in my breast was the consequence, which I feol to this very hour, and probably shall through life. When I had tinished thi_ _i_~.>:.»^ ^fiF^^tttal moona fnr mv H(^livf>rancft : Si uiid juttt at the wry criaii when m> aoul wai linking uiuii-r iti grief, aiitl tliv buliii of coinfurt wa>i moat wuiited, hu wua ut liuiul tu uchiiiiiiiter it. For iieurly tli<> Npace of two yean before this, by th« clo8»3 application I guvc to writing, and an irrciiit- ibic biai to a niclunchoiy dinpoiition, [ had will- ingly dropped the greatest part of my Wi)rldly ac- quaintance, especially those of my own nation, and hud formed u resolution to contract no new con- nexion with any of Uieni that might afterwards come to the place. Unt God hud determined otherwise, and my weak resolves wen; soon thrown down to make way for him to work. A gentleman that had lived in the snnic house, importuned me from day to day to visit an English lady, who had been some time hi the town, whose. company he as- sured me I should certainly like, from the amiable qualities she possessed. Prevailed on by his re- peated solicitations, I at lust complied, and found her to bp reully what he had described. Her sweet- ness of temper, affability, and generous and hu- mane disposition, were so attractive, that I coold not forbear often repeating my visits, till by degrees I became her most confidential friend. My pride would never suffer me to mention to her the un- happy situation I was in ; but her penetration pierced through a forced composure of counte- nance to the latent grief that was preying on my heart, and from some unguarded words dropped in conversation, she guessed at the real cause of my dejectioD; and immediately determined (as she hat 82 •ince told me) to embrace the first favourable op- portunity of remo\ Ing H. Some months afterwards •he left the place to go to Italy, and desired 1 would take care of a few trifling things that were making for her in town, for which she could not wait; promising to tend me money from Lyons to pay for them. In a few weeks she sent me a con- siderable sum to pay for her things, and in the most engaging generous manner, insisted on my making use of the overplus to carry me to Eng- land. This, with the gift sent me by an indulgent father, was not only amply sufficient to pay my debts, but enough to defray the expense of tra- velling home. O my soul, stop here and admire the goodness, the exuberant goodness, of that gra- cious Bemg, who, in infinite love, sent this unex- pected and seasonable supply to the most unde- serving of all his creatures! and that (as I have al- ready mentioned) at the distressing juncture when all my hopes of deliverance from every other quarter had entirely vanished! Who would not love such a God ! How comes it to pass, O my unfeeling heart that thou dost not love him more? Has he done so much for me, and shall I not love him ? Yes, O blessed Jesus, under the influence of thy rich grace, my soul, ray body, my time, my talents, and every thing I have, shall be wholly devoted to thee. Having thus obtained the means of re- tmning home, I longed to set oflF without a mo- ment's delay; but was persuaded to stay a few vreeks longcf sof soiuc oi uu,y couutryinsQ VtuO psO= 83 posed going with me, that travelling might be made cheaper and more agreeable. In the month of May, 1770, about three o'clock in the morning, I was released from my six years heavy bondage ; and with a heart filled with joy, though not truly sensible of its mercy, I kneeled down on the stones, and in a very irreverent man- ner, with my laughing companions around me, thanked God for my deliverance. Happy would it be for me, could I now feel imprinted on my soul a more grateful sense of this unmerited favour. Before I land myself on English ground, let me take another cursory review of my mind at this re- joicing period. I know very well how it was, but find it altogether beyond my power to describe in any degree to my satisfaction. My confused brain was teeming with a multitude of philosophical no- tions, which I could not rightly digest ; and from this rank soil that poisonous weed, pride, seemed to shoot up to an unusual height. I now looked upon myself as one who, by dint of study and re- flection, had entirely shaken off the prejudices of education, and got above the religion of the country in which I was bom. I seemed free from the spirit of persecution, and did not hate those who firmly adhered to the Christian faidi ; but I looked down upon them with an eye of pity, as well-meauing people who knew no better. My religion I thought was now of the most refined description, tho- roughly purged from every bigotted principle, and wuut uh Uicii of scusf; WOuid rcauliy »ppruvc^ tuOegu . i! ( I ft-f 84 it would puzzle an abler judgment than mine rightly to define ^hat it was. 1 did not rely on my own work8 for salvation ; neither did I trust to the me- rits of Jesus Christ. I believe my chief prop for heaven was a wavering, unstable hope, that the Supreme Being (if there were any) would rather choose to make me happy, than eternally miserable. Amidst this confused crowd of hellish ideas, I fre- quently heard the murmuring of two distinct voices, which sometimes forced me alternately to listen to them, and even obliged me to acknow- ledge the truth of what they said. One, an im- portunate visitor, very roughly told me, I was wrong ; and when I endeavoured to convince him to the contrary, would grow so bold and cla- morous, that, for the sake of a little peace, I was obliged as it were to stifle him for a time in the pursuit of some worldly pleasure; but I never could silence him altogether. The other I listened to with delight, while he sweetly whispered to me in the language of hope, that a day would come when I should alter my present way of thinking, and adopt one far better. This secret internal something, in a manner which I cannot describe, gave me friendly hints that my state was far from being safe, and that God would not suflfer me to perish in it. In this frame of mind, as nearly as I can recol- lect, I arrived in England, after having spent six weeks at Paris, at the time of Louis the XV.th's marriage^ roULng in evervf orbidden pleasure, and 85 delighting without remorse in all the si(iful gratifi- cations which that polluted city could present to its votaries. On my coming to London, I was so sur- feited with those pleasures in which the world places its chief happiness, that for a time, I had no relish to partake any more of them; but God knows, that, notwithstanding this, I had not the least de- sire after any thing that was good. My whole con- duct and way of thinking were so visibly different from what they were when I left England, that all my former acquaintance, especially those at Chat- ham, could not forbear taking particular notice of the change. They that feared God saw it with sorrow, and I believe prayed for me — (the Lord reward them for their prayers, for they were surely heard). To others it was a matter of satisfaction, and a good subject for mirth, to perceive that their former bigotted companion had effectually wiped off what they and I were now pleased to call the prejudices of religion. Upon my arrival in Scot- land, it was still worse. A pious father and mo- ther, with sorrow of heart, soon remarked the me- lancholy change, which I had not hypocrisy enough to conceal. They so often repeated this ex- pression, " France has been your ruin," that I began seriously, to reflect, whether it really was so or not. Upon u strict examination of what I had experienced seven or eight years before, I could hardly persuade myself it was all a delusion; but was rather inclined to think there might be some reality in it : and if so, I naturally concluded I < u 86 could not be right now, because nothing could be more clear than the difference there was between the state of my mind at that period and at the pre- sent. Notwithstanding these secret misgivings, I was both ashamed and loth to give up a system of religion, or I should rather say of irreligion, so well suited to my natural inclination, and probably should have carried it with me to the grave, if grace had not prevented. The chief cause why 1 afterwards discarded it, was, that God in mercy to me would not let me keep it. The repeated admo- nitions of my pious relatives, to which I was forced to listen, helped greatly to confirm the suspicions about the safety of my state; and from one step to another, my doubts imperceptibly increased, till at last I began to grow restless and uneasy. I some- times wished I had never imbibed these pernicious principles, which still retained their chief seat in my heart. What seemed most to shake my sus- picions at this time, was the remembrance of that Pharisaical disposition and spiritual pride with which 1 was puffed up when I left Chatham ; and a secret and strong persuasion that God had thus left me on purpose, to root it out effectually, by shewing me how unable I was to stand when left to myself, and to what dreadful lengths I was liable to run. These reflections were accompanied by a pleasing hope that God would one day restore me to his favour ; but how, or when, or where, this mighty change should be effected, I had no con- tention. So far from this, 1 was led to believe it a - -« — \i i 'ii ■ ^pBiiShSIP \ : ""fi I ; 1 87 thing almost impossible: the whole bent of my mind was so diametrically opposite to a practical reception of the truths revealed in the Gospel, that had it not been for this secret hope that encouraged me, I never should have attempted to search after them. I attended on the means of grace. 1 read; I prayed; but my heart remained just as hard and insensible, and if possible more prone than ever to every thing that was bad. But God, who is " rich in mercy, worketh and none can let." He, therefore, made use of such instruments as proved effectual, to raze the foundation of all those false hopes and erroneous notions by which the Devil held me fast. The first things that made any evident impres- sion upon me, were the pious letters of my Chris- tian correspondents : though I could not then em- brace what they advanced, yet 1 clearly saw its truth, and longed to be in their safe and happy state. I disputed with them, but it was with a kind of reluc- tance, and one thing has frequently struck me, that though I was well persuaded of my ability to stagger them by raising arguments, which I had picked up in disputing with the Roman-catholics, yet I never was permitted to make use of them. When I at- tempted it, a secret impulse from within seemed to whisper thus ; — " What ! turn advocate for Satan ! Not content with being blinded by him yourself, must you endeavour to delude others ?" This, toge- ther with a kind of secret pride, lest my friends should think I was ten times worse than they atfirst imagined, , .t ■ii. i ss prevented my throwing stumbling-blocks in their way. Though 1 was unwilling to yield to the force of my correspondents' arguments ; yet I could not help being convinced that they were agreeable to the wordof God, and I found they gained more and more npon me every day, till by the grace of Jesus they had imperceptibly created a secret and growing desire to be reconciled to the infinitely gracious Being, whom I was now made sensible I had most griev- ously offended. Blessed be the name of the Lord ! he did not stop here. If he had, these slight im- pressions would soon have worn off, and I had now been either enduring torment, or, what is next to it, wallowing in sin. But his rich mercy followed me from one means to another, till my impenitent heart felt the power of his grace, was made willing to submit to his sovereign will, and to accept of free and full salvation by a crucified Redeemer. I had been but a few months with my friends in Scotland, when I was unexpectedly ordered upon actual service, and obliged to repair to London with all speed. I arrived there in December, 1770, after a tedious and perilous passage by sea, having more than once or twice experienced the goodness of God in delivering me from the most imminent danger. He had gracious purposes of love towards me, which were ripening apace, and just ready to be manifested. Some military business detained me in London nearly two months ; in which interval God was pleased to employ two very powerful means to breiik asunder the chains of darkness, by which Satan had long led me captive at his wilt. The first was the unexpected and melancholy account of the death of a dearly beloved brother. He was my only brother, and I loved him as my own soul ! The painful, though friendly stroke, fell with uncommon weight upon my mind, and a circum- stance, somewhat remarkable, served to render it still more affecting. I received the gloomy com- munication upon nearly the same spot where, seven or eight years before, we had taken our last affec- tionate farewell of each other. O how pungent and solemn was the thought ! It preyed upon my soul, making me seriously reflect upon my latter end, and compelling me (though with dread) to look be- yond the grave, towards that awful and eternal state into which my dear brother had just entered. I now began, in good earnest, to see the vanity and dangerous tendency of those abominable and erro- neous notions to which I had tenaciously adhered for several years. They now stood dressed in their proper colours, and loudly proclaimed their diabolical origin. A strong and restless desire to be savingly united to God and his people, drove them from the place they held in my heart, and evidently prevailed in their room. I saw the absolute necessity there was of such a Saviour as Jesus Christ, and was con- vinced there was no possibility of being saved any other way than by him. But not feeling as yet any love in my heart towards him, nor perceiving in his glorious person any thing that I thought would ever ■li r m wept ; being well pen uadcd, that wnless I loved Jesus Christ, there could be no hope of my salvation. Besides, I was as yet under tlie domineering power of sin, neither had the Lord shown me its heinous nature, nor that most dreadful of all sights, ray abominably wicked heart. That he reserved for another period. He seemed now to be drawing me to himself with " the cords of love." About a fortnight or more after my brother's death, while I continued in a mournfully discon- solate state of mind, because I could not love Christ, I dreamed a very distinct and remarkable dream, which had such a happy effect upon my heart, that I have ever since looked upon it as the principal means the Ahnighty was pleased to employ in bring- ing about my thorough conversion. I thought I was sitting a little before day-light in the morning, with my deceased brother, on the wall of the parish church-yard, where we had Uved many years to- gether. We remained silent for some time, and then he asked me if I would not go with him into the church. I readily consented, and immediately rising up, walked with him towards the porch, or outer gate, which I thought was very large and spacious ; but when we had passed through it, and came to the inner door that led directly into the body of the church, some way or other, but how I could not well conceive, my brother slipt in before me ; and when I attempted to follow (which I was all eagerness to do), the door, which slid from the ton to the bottom, like those in some fortified towns my on the continent, was instantly let down more than half way, so that I now found it requisite to bend myself almost double before i could possibly enter. But as I stooped to try, the door continued falling lower and lower, liid consequently the passage became so narrow that I found it altogether impracticable in that posture. Grieved to be left behind, and deter- mined to get in, if possible, 1 fell down on my hands, and tried to squeeae my head and shoulders through ; but finding myself still too high, I then kneeled down, crept, wrestled, and pushed more eagerly, but all to no purpose. Vexed to the last degree, yet un- willing to be left outside, 1 came to the resolution of thiowing off all my clothes, and crawling like a worm ; but being very desirous to preserve a fine silk embroidered waistcoat which I had brought from France, I kept that on in hopes of being able to carry it with me. Then laying myself flat on my face, I toiled and pushed and strove, soiled my em- broidered waistcoat, but could not get in, after all. At last, driven almost to despair, I stripped myself entirely, and forced my body between the door and the ground, till the rough stones and gravel tore all the skin and flesh upon my breast, and (as I thought) covered me with blood. Indifferent, however, about this, and perceiving I advanced a little, I con- tinued to strive and squeeze with more violence than ever, till at last I got safely through. As soon as I stood upon my feet on the inside, an invisible hand clothed me in a long white robe ; and as I turned .«>iin«mg sent to the We«t Indi«, (M «n officer who cxchinged duties with me wi»), yet the Lord, whote walcliful eye was over me, to overruled events, that I wa» lecurely and speedily fixed among my former pious friends ami ac- quaintance at Chatham, and to my great joy, at last happily united to the person I had loved for many years : in short, I was now more comfortahly settled in lite than I had ever yet been ; freed from the pressure of poverty, and a number of othoi worldly cares and embarrnssments, to which I had long been exposed, but here a vigilant enemy contrived his well-timed scheme, and brought it to a dreadful length ere 1 perceived the danger. Wrapping me round in the comforts of this world, he fouiul an easy passage into my corrupt heart, and insensibly drew away my aft'ections in an eager, restless desire for the enjoyment of those poor, pe- rishing vanities. So deeply was my attention at last engaged in this pursuit, and so effectually had the God of this world blinded the eyes of my un- derstanding, that I not only began to lose a relish for spiritual things, and the believing view of heavenly objects, but a thick vei' was likewise draw- ing over all th-. the Lord had ju^t * 1 1 n itoing for 'ne : and had not his grace spec u^ prevented, I had undoubtedly fallen a prey to the snare of the enemy, onri lilfA rtptnnn Hhniild entirelv have forsaken the ****** '"~" ■ " — " — - - ^, - 05 Hi' ciuie of ■ cruci6(«d Stviour. nut I wai luddenly irouied from my apintual lethargy with a friendly, but Mvern ctroko of hiit rod; so severe that to thi^ (lay I feel the smart of it in my body, niul pro- hnhly shall carry tiie marks of it to my grave. It wu!( nothing more at hrait than a little swelling on my neck about the sixe of a nut, of which for some time I took little or no notice, imugining it would go away, as it came, without giving me any pain or tniuble. Hut God seeing it wa^ high time to af- liict me, used this swelling us a rod, cauMing it to increase to such a degree that I was glad to have recourse to medical advice; but without eflfecl. It enlarged inwardly, and gradually spread till it got below the clavicle, or collar-bone, and gave me so much pain that I was at last obliged to undergo the excruciating operation of having it cut ; and after all, the infected part was found to be so deep, there was no getting at the bottom to heal it by any out- ward application. It grew worse and worse, threw me every now and then into a fever, and by a con- stant and copious discharge emaciated my body, and reduced me to so low a state, that all who saw me naturally concluded it would soon put a period to my life. In this crisis, the happy effects which a God of leve intended should How from this af- fliction began to appear; the thoughts of death in my present state, lay with uncommon weight upon my mind, and caused such deep searchings of heart, that I was made willing to forsake all for some com- fortable hooe of mv eternal bliss bv Christ Jesus. . .f 4 11**11, I'H '■X I ■. ! 06 The world, that gilded vanity, which I have been sin- fully hugging in my bosom till it had well nigh de- stroyed me, now shrunk from my fond embrace, an ugly, deformed thing. I blushed to think I had been so mean as to place my affections one mo- ment upon it, and resolutely determined for the future to give my heart entirely to God, who had an indisputable right to it. The finger oi the Lord was so evidently manifest to me in this affliction, that I can truly say, if ever I was in any degree thankful for any of his mercies, it was for this. At first indeed it was grievous, very grievous to bear, but as soon as I perceived its happy effects, and saw the absolute necessity there was for it (I desire to speak to the glorj- of his grace), I really in some measure delighted in my pain ; seemed to enjoy it as a valuable thing, and blessed his holy name, for this soul-satisfying token of his fatherly love and care. Yet, strange to think, so strong is my natural propensity to doubt, that I frequently question whether God ever loved me or not. Cursed sin ! May that all-sufficient grace which has upheld me hitherto, now give me an entire domi- nion over it. Surely I, of all men, have no reason to doubt of the love of God, were I only to air lege this affliction as a proof of it. When my wandering heart is too much drawn out after the objects of time and sense, a gentle stroke of this rod (which is still suspended over me) gives the friendly warning, puts me in mind of my latter end, and points towards heaven. O what a trea- \ >een sin- Qigh de- race, an k I had )ne mo- for the Mrho had he Lord liQlction, y degree for this, evous to ' effects, for it (I I really 3emed to his holy 1 fatherly strong is eijuently or not. vhich has ire domi- 10 reason (ily to al- Vhen my after the e of this gives the my latter lat a trea* 97 sure is imctified affliction. No sooner did I feci the happy effects of it upon my soul at this time, than 1 began •with more earnestness than ever to seek after God. I longed for close communiou with him; I delighted in his courts, and hi the solemn assemblies of the more select company of his spiritual -worshippers. In short, I could not rest till I had become, in a more intimate and public manner, one of those despised people whom a few months before, I had looked upon with pity and contempt as ignorant fanatics, deceiving themselves and willing to deceive others. The people of God, of every denomination, poor or rich, now became to me " the excellent of the earth," in whom was all my delight. I loved them from my heart because they belonged to Christ and bore his image, and through his grace, I can do so still. I have not perceived my affection for them abated, and humbly trust I never shall. Surely nothing less than divine power could in the space of a few months have thus efTectually over- thrown the mrfssy bulwarks of infidelity, which Satan had been continually strengthening for the space of six years in my corrupt heart, or have bent my \'icious and stubborn will to embrace the self-abasing doctrines of the gospel. That such a change has been wrought, I am as certain as of my own existence : so Hkewise am I confident that it was not in the smallest degree attributable to any inherent strength of my own. God alone must have been the author of it. To him therefore be al W''' i-i li 98 the glory. Nothing but shame and confusion be- longs to me, for having so ill requited a God of .uch boundless compassion. He has done great things for me, I have done but little for him in re- turn, yet still the same grace that began the work, has i trust hitherto carried it on ; so that I can say with the apostle, " By the help of God, 1 continue unto this day." Before I conclude this feeble attempt to illua- trate the freeness of Jesus's love to the most un- deserving of all his creatures, I will just mention some marks of his tenderness and care which in great condescension he deigned to confer upon me, after he had mercifully called me from the tyranny of Satan into the happy freedom of the gospel. Some time before, and even after, I had joined a society of Christians, I frequently doubted th« soundness of my conversion, and consequently the safety of my state, from not having keenly felt what I so often heard them talking about— terrors of conscience, deep convictions for sin, horrors of mind on account of the impending wrath of God, and the impossibility of entering the kingdom of heaven without feeling something of such emo- tions. It was not long before these doubts and fears were graciously removed ; but, as I have al- ready hinted, in proportion as the love of Christ m- creased in my soul, a daily hatred to sin was ex- cited. I gradually saw the dreadful consequences that attended it, and how odious it was in the sight of a pure ana noiy viou. j\ " ■ uicSc -■' •Fi'J :i Anorxf^a rhna 99 when the Lord was pleased to give me any singular manifestations of his love, a holy tremor seemed to aeize me, lest I should do any thing that might offend him. Whenever I was made sensible of sin- ning, either by omission or commission, in thought, word, or deed, the bitter tears, heavy groans, and excruciating pangs of soul I went through, till they were removed by a believing view of the atoning sacrifice of our Lord, no mortal can conceive but those who have experienced something of the same kind. And to this day, as I am never without sin, I can truly say it is a continual source of sorrow to mp. It is a heavy burden under which I should soon sink, if I did not experimentally know that Jesus died to save me from its reigning power, as well as from the punishment it deserves. As I have every reason to praise God for these favours, so ought I also to bless and magnify his holy name as the hearer and answerer of prayer ge- nerally. I can boldly say from my heart, I have truly found him such, and never more so than when he has refused a direct and immediate grant of my petitions. For then I have frequently seen in the issue, that I had ten times more reason to thank him for the refusal than if he had at once granted me what I asked. I wi'l just mention one instance of this kind as a specimen of many, previously ob- serving that when clear views of divine truth were first imparted to me, I frequently prayed that when- ever he called me to embark in a man-of-war F 2 '^- I ^00 long inhabUe*, I might even there' find 8.me se- rious person to corivefse with, xvho,'by good ad- vice and a pious example, might be the means of preventing me froYn falling. But this priyer I had for some time neglected to offer up, atid indeed had entirely forgotten; though God had not, as will be seen by the sequel. About forty yea^s ago, when I was a subaltern in the royal manne corps, two other officers and myself were ordered io em- bark, one in each of the three guard-ships then stationed in the Medway. Two of them layclosc to the Dock-yard, affording at all times easy access to the shore ; but the other, the ResoluUon of 74 gHns, was moored half way dovm the river, to- ^Vards Sheerttess, from whence in winter and bad weather it was troublesome to land, and sometimes impracticable. For this reason it was natural for each of us to wish for one of the Chatham ships, and strong interest was accordingly made by us re- spectively with the commanding officer, for this purpose. But he, finding he must necessarily disbblige one of the three, ordered us to attend the pafade^next morning, and draw lots for our ships. This of course drove me to my strong hold, and if ever I prayed with fervency in my life, it was now. I pleaded hard with the Searcher of hearts, that he knew my chief motive for desiring one of the Chatham ships was, that I might constantly attend • the means of grace and the ordinances of his house ; ' and I felt confidence that if I really was a child of ^ Gfod, he would graht my request—since the " ioi 101 thus cast into the lap" was wholly at his disposal! The important morning came, and I drew the dreaded ship, down the river. Had I drawn my death warrant, I hardly think it would have af- fected me more. My prayer was now apparently rejected, and the enemy of souls taking advantage of the agitated state of my depraved heart, easily made me draw the conclusion, either that 1 was no Christian, or that God paid no attention to those who professed to be such. In this gloomy de- sponding state, like a criminal going to execution, I embarked the same forenoon in His Majesty's ■hip Resolution, lying in a dreary part of the Med- "way, about two or three miles from Sheerness. I had just time to be introduced to the officers in the ward-room, when dinner came in. The third Lieu- tenant, happening to be caterer that week, of course stood up at the head of the table and askeqa Diessmgi uu. .,..». _ . .i, „or;^„«neg9 as quite astonished, mc ; for being well acquainted with the customs of the ward-room in a king's ship^ I had never heard any thing of the kind so solemnly pronounced there before, and I determined to mark every word that proceeded from that gentle- man's lips, in the hope of hearing something that might enable me to ascertain his character. No- thing decisive occurred during dinner; but no sooner was the wine placed upon the table, than he was attacked by several of his messmates on his religious sentiments, and I soon discovered that he bore the genuine marks of a true Christian, bv his ■I * '; t 102 judicious reproofs, and the very able manner in -which he confuted all their infidel arguments. Wishing, I suppose, to know what spirit I was of, they frequently appealed to me for the truth of vhat they advanced ; but having always decided against them, I was imperceptibly drawn into th« disputation on the side of the caterer. When the allowance of wine was drunk (for it was a sober well regulated mess) the purser rose and broke up the company, exclaiming with an oath, " Our new messmate is as great a Methodist as Tomlin- son*." I smiled, well pleased to be associated with such a man. As two needles touched with the loadstone, when they fall near to each other among chaiF, will soon come together, so this Methodist Lieutenant and myself speedily came into contact. After having exchanged a few questions, we went down to his cabin in the pr„n-rn«»" *"",*', ,' .*, ^.ouiiunaDie conversation, and concluded with prayer, although a few hours before we had never aeen one another's faces. This singular circum- stance could not fail to bring to my recollection, the prayer I had so culpably forgotten, now com- pletely granted, and I began to be reconciled to i'W;! • Lieutenant Tomlinson was a pious, sensible, and wcUin- formed man, then well known in the Christian world. He was long a commander in the navy, and would have been high among the admirals, had he not disobliged the Admiralty of that time, by publishing a plan for manning the navy without pressing, Mhich that Board would not couate»anc«. I enjoyed hi» friend- ship for many years. 103 th« ship Providence had assigned me; but that God, who abounds in goodness, and delights in mercy, never confers his favours by halves. A few days had hardly elapsed, when an order came from the Admiralty, to send the Resolution up to Chatham, and one of the ships there fb take her place. This was such welcome news to all on board, that lest the order should be countermanded, we obeyed it the same day ; for the wind and tide favouring, we weighed, and came to an anchor off the Dock-yard before two o'clock. Thus my prayer, at first apparently rejected, was now com- pletely answered j but it was in the Lord's way. Had mine been attended to, and 1 had drawn the ship that afterwards went down the river, I should have been miserable. So true it is, we " know not what we should pray for as we oug.it." Rom. viii. 26. As God had thus been very merciful in not granting my requests in my own way ; so likewise has he been remarkably gracious at other times in hearing and answering my petitions. An instance or two will be sufficient to establish this soul-com- forting truth. Some time ago, finding my heart and affections (as, alas ! I too frequently have done since) very much carried away after the perishing things of the world, my zeal abating, and my love for spiritual things growing cold and languid, and, of course, my joy and peace in believing al- most entirely vanished, I tried every means to re- move the TOwing evil i went from dutv to dutv- 104 A it mode reiolution upon resolution, wrentled and prayed, but all to no purpove. The love of the world seenaed to prevail over tlie love of Christ. At last, weighed down under the heavy burden, aud almost ready to give over, I prayed fervently to Qod,' that as he had formerly blessed afHictions to roe in this respect, I should now be willing, were it consistent with his will, that he should use that moans to disentangle my heart from the world, and direct i^ to the proper olyect of its love. The very next ddy, I was laid up with a fever, and be- fore I recovered, the world in a great measure lost for a time its alluring charms. I am far from juitifyiog this method of preseribing to the Lord', but in- thi» instance it is evident he heard' iny prayer. At another time I prevailed upon one of my brother officers, a most notorious swearer, to go to wOrahip with me, and we had just sat down in the pew; when 1 put up a mental prayer that the preacher might be led to say something against swearing, that he might be useful to my compa- nion; an<* while I endeavoured to recollect some text of Scripture that was against this vice, the third commandment immediately preg€fnted itself with foil force to my mind. I thought, if this were but pronounced with solemn, eirergy and power from! the pulpit, what good might it not do? Ac- cofidiitgly, towawls the close of the sermon, which, by the bye, seemed quite foreign from what I had b66A' Biedi^^Hg upoii, uic prcacuer uegan to re- 106 prove the odious vice of swearing, and was a full quarter of an hour df mouatrfiting with uncommon eloquence, and convincing arguments, its sinfuU nein, meanness, unprofitableness, and dangerous consequences, and at last concluded by repeating the third commandment with such solemnity, that it forced the whole auditory into the most se- rious attention ; while I rejoiced to think the Lord had graciously condescended to hear my prayer^ in a manner so admirably calculated to impress th« comcifnce of my profane companion. ' t V 5 ^^^m r ^|B^w^ 1 f: H* 5 1 i 1 > ^H , ■ ; 1 i_i j ^1 i 1 H 'l^^^^H ■ l> 1 ^^^^^^1 ^H 1 '^^^^^■i ^^^^H ^^^^^^H > ^^^Hb ^ 1 PART III. CONTINUATION or Tii« GENERAL'S HISTORY, COMPnUINO EXTRACTS FROM HIS JOURNALS, TO Mil RETURN FROM AMERICA, 1778. The preceding Narrative brings down the Au- thor's history to the middle of his thirtieth year, the 19th of April, 1772. We must now proceed through the remainder, chiefly by the aid of his jounials ; in which, as he had been accustomed to do from an early age, he conthiued to notice all th« material occurrences of his life. Nothing which he deemed deserving of being recorded, seems to hav« happened for a considerable time after the period at which the narrative closes. In the following year, he determined to include in his future journals, not only a register of exteraal transactions and circumstances, but accounts of his progress or decline in the Christian life, and of the pains and pleasures arising from the conflicts expeiieuceU m fljs mind betwecH 107 error and truth, sin niui j»racc. The extracts w6 ■hall introduce from thcue paperS; und the use we ahull niake of them in thoHe parts, which admit or require ahridgment, will render him Mtill, in a great nitaiure, his own biographer. We cannot better commence our continuation of Lieutenant Burn's history, than with the introduction to this new se- ries of journals : and as this part of his life appears to have been diversified only by internal anxieties and eiyoyments, we shall proceed to transcribe Monie other passages, written at various times during his residence at Chatham; which contain particular descriptions of his religious views and feelings, and exhibit him as a vigilant self-observer, mindful of that injunction of heavenly wisdom;-— " Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life.** " August 15, 1773. In the year 1771, the Lord, ill a gracious and more effectual manner than I had ever before exp» rienced, having been pleased to en- lighten my mind, by the blessed ilhunination of his Holy Spirit, to see the reality and import- ance of the glorious and mysterious truths re- vealed in the Bible; and to direct my soul to the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of die world; I have frequently thought it might be useful, to commit my experience ^o paper : but through one impediment or other, I have alvvavs put it off till this day. And now, by the grace of God, the heaven of heavens, where God my M- ■I imn«ri arc olrewly nrrivcil and entered into blUii, being the happy port towards >*hich I am steering, 1 am determined to keep an exact journal of my Yoyagc through the tempestuous ocean of this life, where nothing but rocks and sands and shoals pre- sent themselves on every side ; in order that one day's experience may, under God, be a kind of guide to llie next, and that after I shall have finished my courfce, and safely arrived at home, others who come after me may see the ruin into which I had well-nigh fallen, and take timely warning. But be- fore I begin, let me earnestly beg of God, that his Holy Spirit may be my constant instructor and pilot ; that always diffident of my own skill, I may never venture to proceed on my voyage without his special direction, and the sweet influence of his auspicious gales, lest 1 should suffer lost, and be driven back- ward instead of forward. Oh that the blessed Jesus would grant that every day I might sail with as prosperous a gale as I have this day I How good, how kind, how astonishingly gracious, has he been to my unworthy soul on this day of rest ! Delightful prelude to that eternal sabbath of bliss, which I humbly trust, through his blood and righteousness alone, I shall ere long enjoy in a world above! When I went out in the morning to the house of God, my mind seemed composed, and enjoyed, as it were, beforehand, the glad sound of the everlast- ing gospel. But when in the sanctuary, O ! what pleasure in praying, and praising, and listening to ^e overtures of a merciful God and Father, io and fS 100 tlirougb tho Lord Jciui Christ ! Aad when tho tctr vice was over, as i retura«d liooio through the fields, the Lord blessed mt iu such a matuMr, that " my cup ran over." I could hardly support myself under the transporting pressure of such ecsUtic joy, auch unutterable rapture. A carnal world may laugh at these eipressious, and call tlieiu enthusiastic : but all the men upon earth will never convince me, but that I then really experienced a joy to which all that the world calls joy can bear no comparison ; nor caa they persuade mc but that the source from which this joy sprang, was truly scriptural and evangelical. My eyes directed toward heaven, and my heart breathing out fervent desires after a spiritual sight of an all-sufficient Saviour; 1 was imperceptibly led to reflect, that far beyond tlic blue canopy so magnificently extended over my head, that Mumt Saviour was undoubtedly seated at the right hand of Jehovah, and pleading for poor, guilty, helpless me. This thouglit struck me with such compunction of soul, and infused into my breast such a sweet and fall assurance of eternal blias, that, as I have already mentiooed, feeble flesh and blood could hardly stand under it. I walked along, praising Qod witli such ecttacyof soul, that it brought to my remembrance a carnal notion I have frequently had, of the cnv ployment of the saints in heaven. Before I knew what the sweets of religion were, I never could rightly conceive how ti\e blessed hosts above could find so much pleasure in continually worsliipping vomd the thron* : aiu^iy, I thought, they mu$t I ' 110 seme time or other be tired, or at least, by way o( relaxation, seek to vary their employment. But how ditfereullydid 1 think now ! What worlds would I have given, to remain always in such a frame as this ! The idea that there was such a praising state of bliss that would never have an end, ravished my soul. I could not help crying out aloud to the inani- mate things around me, — Now 1 know what the joy of saints and angels means, and no longer wonder thai they continually cry, " Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, which wa», and is, and is to come ;" and unweaiiedly repeat, " Worthy is the l^mb that was slain, to receive power, and richeo, and wisdom^, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. * that I were among them ! "August 22. Any one who should take a view of the state of my mmd, as described in the forego- ing passage, v\ ould naturally think 1 was a very happy Christian indeed, and knew not what it was, to pass through the difficult and gloomy part of the road that leads to heaven. But he would be very much mistaken : for God and my own soul know, that for one comfortable step I take, 1 go ten mourning and sorrowing. The bright and ravishing gleams of God's love to my soul are so soon clouded by the workings of a deceitful heart, and that sinful nature which 1 carry about me, that 1 am presently left, without the light of his countenance, to grapple my way in the dark through a sea of doubt and dejection. 1 hate sin ; blessed be the name of the Lord: but i am every day siuuiiig, m thought, word, or dseu, Ill by omission and commission ; and then a murmuiv^ ing conscience, and a tempting and accusing Devil,' ■ 80 beset me, that the burden of sin becomes in- tolerably heavy. And when at this season my faith should be particularly in exercise, it is so very weak, so little, and mixed with so many doubts and fears, that it can hardly be called faith. 1 believe that the blood of Jesus is sufficient to take away all sin; but when I would go to him for pardon, the Devil throws a stumbling-block in my way, thatthis is mak- ing Christ the minister of sin. Though my soul abhors the very idea, yet I too often hearken to the deceiver, and for fear of abusing God's mercy neglect going hourly to Jesus for remission. O Christian, whoever you are that may read this, beware of mistake here, and pray fervently to God for his Holy Spirit to direct you how to shape your course between these two shoals. Never sin, because grace abounds : never be deterred by Satan, as I have been, from going continually to Jesus Christ for remission. " September 12. Among the many enemies that I have to grapple with in my spiritual warfare, I find few so constant in the field and so difficult to subdue, as spiritual pride. For some days past, it has haunted me more than usual. I can scarcely apply to any duty, but it is sure to be there ; and when one would imagine that such a poor, frail, simple being as I could never have any thing to do with pride. Yet, alas ! too true it is, that cursed sin frequently discovers itself in my heart. But blessed be the p.nahif^f^ m^ to buttle IlB.rd E^'EIQSt ua it. And a very wbtle £99 it i« tQ «ncomit#r ; for where I Uaat expect it, there it ii iure to be. Whe« roy heart ia big with grief, and groai^i^g «ndw tU« weisht of iin ; even there it mixei with almost every sigh. If God lifts upon me the light of hi» counts* nance, this gigantic form at the same time is sure to erect its stately head. Nay, at the very moment I am writing, it keeps whispering its infernal language with every letter my pen forms ; and, if grace did not prevent, would force me to give a listening ear to its smooth, insinuating voice. <* September tO. My spiritual foes are so nUr merous, their attacks so frequent and unexpected, and the whole of my Christian race attended with so mary various circumstances; that it is impossible for me exactly to relate the experience of the whole week or even of one day. For in that short space of time, I am frequently exercised with all the trials and temptations I have already mentioned, and many more that I have not had time to commit to writing. Among the vast army of corruptions that lurk in my heart, I have this week found at their head, an impatient, murmuring spirit, making every little triile rufile my temper before I am aware ; and if I were not enabled by grace to set a constant watch ovef the motions of this spirit, it would hurry me Vito such sin as would bring dishonour on the cause of God, grieve his Holy Spirit, and burden my already too much burdened mind. I desire to bf holy, and to live without sinmng -, but when I fall i nto am. I becoaae fretful, rross. and iU4lumourfid. 113 instead of going with a humble and contrite heart to the Lord Jeius Christ for pardon and remission. This is my capital fault: for I never come from thence without being good humoured : and, what is most surprising, it is frequently with the greatest- difficulty I can drag myself thither. O patience ! I never, till very lately, understood the full mean* ing of Paul's expression, " Ye have need of pa- tience." But, what must the patience of God he, that bears with such a creature as I am ! This is past comprehension. " November 1. Till I can get entirely above the wosld, its cares, customs, and snares, I never shall be comfortable: till sin is entirel^r overcome in my soul by the love of Christ reigning therp. without a rival, 1 uc»»- aK^ti »nioy that swee.t peace of God, which passeth all.understandmg. u now have I beea harnssed by this dreadful enemy, sin, during the fortnight past! Who can. describe the excruciating anguish of soul that I have suffered. May the Lord in mercy keep me from o0endipg him as I have too frequently done. For several days 1 enjoyed a steady calm m my mind, beyond what I had felt for sdme time; till one evening, re^- proving a fellow-sinner for a fault, I forgot the spirit of love and meekness, with which, I began to do it ; and, from, some circumstances that occurred, ere I was aware, I fell into the sin of unlawful anger. Wham I cgroe to n^ sj^iritual senses, and began to reflect on what I had done, no tongue can Av»r«aia mv hQrrnv. for haviog COnmUttfidi SUfih 114 - ta," , .1* egregiouB folly; to think that instead of defending my Saviour's cause, I had injured it. And yet that compasiiioiiate Redeemer was pleased to restore me to his favour again. But what shall I say ? Shame and confusion cover my face, while I am constrained to acknowledge, I a second time grieved his Holy Spirit, and forced him to depart from me ! Wo unto me ! I was ashamed to aict the Christian part in a company of worldly people ; and left undone, or did but faintly, what it was my indispensable duty to have done openly and boldly before the world. The righteous are bold as a lion. But, alas for me! I am yet a slave to shame 1 this fatal rock! How often have I split o^-i it! What numberless tears it has made me shed! H««. ^f*^^, „.i->-». I nave been going oii prosper- ously, steering a straight course towards heaven, have I s^en this rock at a distance, been warned to avoid it, trembled at the danger, prayed earnestly for help, and yet run right against it ! I intended, by the blessing of God, to approach his holy table next S{ibbath ; but, O ! into what a cold, stupid frame have my sins thrown me ! I know not what to do. May the Lord in infinite mercy direct me! " November 24. Last Sunday, blessed be the name of Jesus ! I was not disappointed in my hopes. I enjoyed a goodly portion of his love. 1 could " call him Lord by the Holy Ghost," ap- propriate him to myself, and securely venture my etci'iiul ^11 _. u:. ,1. _*.:_. an VII ins cvciius iiiig iUVC. v/ Wiiui a 115 blessed Sabbath did I experience! What s>ve«t composure of mind! What solid joy at heart! What peace of conscience I— I was not carried out in seraphic flights, or rapturous ecstacies. I felt something, if possible, more sublime and elevating within me. I cannot describe it in a more dis- tinct and comprehensive manner, than by say- it was faith in exercise, the clearest " evidence of things not seen, and the" very " substance of" what I " hoped for." Christ was all to me. I held him fast, and feared nothing, no, not death itself. Jesus enabled me, by putting his love in my soul, to bid defiance to all his terrors. O that he would in like manner stand by me, when this terrible, though conquered king, makes his appearance ! Then shall I not fear, though — V •i«ai I. I see his well-ain^*»'^ ar»«,.. — '"" ' , xnj soul has been greatly encoqraged and esta- blished, within these few days past, by the preach- ing of the word, and from the pious conversation of some eminent and humble Christians, particu- larly the Rev. John Newton. O that the Lord would always grant me such company. It would be a little heaven on earth. But then perhaps I should be apt to forget the great Heaven above. The Lord keep me from resting here ! ■" December 7- Well might the royal prophet break out into the pathetic and affecting exclama- tion, " Lord, what is man!" Weakness in the very abstract ; unable for a moment to preserve himself vvliprp orrnrp han hrniiorht: him. unless rontinmncf Q jj , jj r ■ 116 grace uphold him there. Bat a few dayi ago, hon happy was my silMmiMii! Witl» Jesus Christ in the arms of my faith, 1 could exult in the strongest hopes of eternal bhss, and bid a bold defiance to all the powers of hell. Alas! how changed! Weak and feaiful, full of doubts and murmuring iurmisings j without n»y all-sufficient prop, I reel and stagger, re^dy every moment to be overcome by the powerful enemies that beset me on every side, O that I have been so foolish ! for I. api sensible whence all this comes. I have neglected to obey that salutary, command of my cprnpassignate Re- deemer; " Watqh and, pray, lest ye enter into tempta^jpn!" la the midst of danger I hare dreamed that all was s^qure;, and ere I waai aware have let the world and the devil creep into my heart, «9tiiraIIv Drone to receive them: and who, knows what I shall sutler eic iwvj « , ^ ^ the grace of God, they shall not lodge there. May tha^ allrsufficient grace which hath opened my eyes to ^e^ my fo^Sf a blessing, sot bestowed on all men, give me strength also tp fight manfujly against them; a»d, in its, own good time and wjyr, drive then^ali, puthi^foi^ me. " Ii)e<;ember 15. For some da^s past I have been, as to spirit^isil! things, like a person without sense OJe fi^eling* And, yeti a, secret something witbil^ kept longing after closer communion with Jesns Christ, whom, it deaured to love above ^ thingS) th^gb it coul4 not s^suice itself whethei? it did oc not. But whv do I attempt to sive an ac- 117 conAt of the state of niy mhid ? For let me uHe what \V6rds Twill, I cantiot itAihfy irtysfelf ; there is always something wanting, or there are so mafty secinihg contradictions to reconcile, that '\i is scarcely possible. He** who may read aft6r me should he able to form a just idea of What passes in the breast of a poor sintier that Is seeking salva- (idn in the blood of Jesus. If "he is earnestly em- ployed in the Aanie search, he may perhaps find something in iny experience that may tally with his oWn. — For two days' past, what 'unutterable pangs have 1 suffered on account of sin ! None can con- ceive the nature of this anguish, that have not felt it theihselves. Yesterday, while my mind was in this excruciating agony, I laid hold of Dr. Owen's Treatise on Communion with Father, Son, and Spirit, prayed for a blessing, and then opening it, read as follows : — '* Believers hold communion with Christ in hearkening to his voice, calling them to him with their burden. * Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' Come thou poor soul with the guilt of sin," &c. I instantly saw by faith Jesus Christ making this overture to me, and, as quick as thought, threw my burden oflf, relying upon him, and directly my conscience was eased ; love, peace, and joy, took possession of my soul ; and I think I never loved Jesus Christ till then, but then I am sure I did. O the preciousness of that blood that cleanses ' ihe from all sm! Satan has tried a thousand devices to keep me trom it j but this strikmg mstance of its 118 efficacy will, I trust, by the grace of God, be a powerful weapon in my hands to foil this subtle foe." Beside the constant attention to the operations of his mind, and the feelings of his heart, which produced the foregoing passages, with numerous others of a similar kind ; Lieutenant Burn was ac- customed, sometimes, to enter into a more minute and particular investigation of his general character, in order to ascertain to his own satisfaction, whether he was a real possessor of vital Christianity, or not. One of the days devoted by him to this so- lemn exercise was the first of the next year. The spirit in which he performed this necessary duty, and the result of his examination, will no doubt both please and edify the pious reader : and should these pages be perused by any one who has never yet made religion the subject of reflection or in- quiry, we will venture to recommend to him a most serious consideration of the principles and senti- ments of the following soliloquy. " January 1, 1774. Lord God Almighty! be pleased this day, for Jesus Christ's sake, so to il- luminate my mind, by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, that whilst I attempt to penetrate into the deepest recesses of my heart, and make the strictest inquiries about my spiritual state, I may make no material mistake therein. When the question is, whether I am bom again of the Spirit of God; or whether I am ingrafted into Christ Jesus, as the 119 in him ;•— O let me nut deceive myself in giving aa answer. Remove liie obstaclcn that lie in the waj coming to the trntli, in this examination. Take away pride, the fear of man, the love of praise, carnal reasoning, and a long train of hellish cavil- lers, that will be ready at every opportunity to cast in a word to bewilder me in this important search. But above all, silence the accusations and wicked suggestions of the devil, that he may be con- founded, thine unworthy worm humbled in the dust, and all the praise and glory redound unto thee alone, now and for evermore, Amen. — What am I? A reasonable being, born to die, perhapa to-morrow, next week, next month, next year ; I cannot tell when ; all that I am sure of is, I must die ; yet endued with a living principle, a spark of the Deity, an immoital soul that must exist after death, awful thought! either happy or miserable to all eternity. All this I am convinced of in my mind. I know also that I am the son of an apostate parent, a sinner by nature and practice, and conse- quently an enemy to my Maker, a child of wrath, and an heir of hell. I know likewise, and am tho- roughly convinced (blessed be God!), that God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son ; and that there is no way of being reconciled to God but by the all precious and atoning blood of Jesus Christ; who freely gave himself as a ran- som, and wrought out an everlasting righteousnesi for his chosen people, and will at last most cer- tainly bring to eternal glory all who through rich E. •■ e ido gricc are brought to believe in hif name. The grand and important questions then arc;— Am I ■ one of this happy number?— Did Jesus die for tne ?— Have I felt the divine efficacy of his blood? ^Is hij righteousness my only plea for justifica- tion before God ?— And shall I shortly enter into the blissful realms above as a shining trophy of his sovereign and everlasting love? — These are the blessings I want of all things to call my own. Ten thousand worlds to be able to do it with con- fidence. Tlie Lord direct me here ; for a mistake in this matter must be dreadfully fatal. But how am I to know these things ? The Saviour himself hath given me a very plain and easy rule to go by Let me follow it, and pray for grace to use it faith fully. He hath said in his word, The tree is Known by its fruit. What fruit have I produced ? Do I know of any change having passed upon me? Surely I do, and can appeal to a thousand facts for the truths of this. Do I live as I did ten or twenty years ago ? — No, nothing like : it in the clear sense of the expression, " Old things are passed away, and all things are become new." Has the Spirit of God ever convinced me of sin ? Let my conscience, which has felt its intolerable load, answer this question. *Tis true, the Lord at first sweetly drew nie to himself with the cords of love, and it was some time before he shewed me the dreadful nature of sin, and the plague of my own heart ; but when he did, no language can express the excruciating pangs i felt, and the agonies of 121 loul I went through on account of it, till by faith ill the Ke when fv.'ry thing el«o haii failed: by the grace of God, Satan conhi nrv.r wrest thi» proof ont of my handn. Notwithstanding, I freqntntly donbl whether I love the Lord Jeius Christ ; thou*;li sometimes also, thank Gofi> »iif >t fli^!'^ l)!>ncf>lf aiirl will 132 !■. he not satisfy it? Come, O blessed Jesus! and warm with thy love my cold, dull, stupid heart. Thy presence, as I have experienced before, will chase from thence all that is contrary to thee." Among the favours of Providence which de- manded the most grateful acknowledgments, Lieu- tenant B. considered it far from the least, that he was kept so long on shore, while all his brother officers, not one excepted, had been sent to sea. He had been stationed at Chatham for five years ; but the time was now approaching for his removal. Hostilities having broken out in America, and the British government being determined to attempt the subjugation of the colonies by force, it was natural to expect he would soon be ordered on active ser- vice. The prospect of separation from a beloved wife and smiling babes, could not fail of exciting many painful emotions in an affectionate heart ; but the principal concern which occupied his mind ap- pears to have been for the consistency and purity of his Christian character. " September 23, 1775. The events which have lately taken place in the nation have not a little dis- concerted me. Engaged in a military capacity, I have now the prospect of soon being hurried from the means of grace, my family, and friends, and plunged into all the horrors of a civil war ; or, at least, of being cooped up in a small ship with a crew whose irreligious example perhaps may have too much influence on a heart so prone to evil as mine. This last consideraliou, especialiy, lies very 133 heavy upon my n\\m\. I dread ihe thought of being ashanicd of Jesus Christ. 1 tremble at what may befal me, tihould God leave me a single day (u my- self. And yet, when I call to mind the many lin- gular instances of his providential care towards me, 1 dare not entertain the least doubt of u con- tinuation of his gouthiesH, but, in spite of all op- position, am constrained to put my trust and con- fidence in Him for the time to come. O that his grace would enable me to testify to all among whom I may come, that I have not only taken up the pro- fession of Christianity, but have indeed been with Jesus, and learned of Him a " pure and undefiled religion" that " keeps me unspotted from the world." After several weeks of expectation Lieutenant B. received his orders ; and on the 8th of December, with a detachment of marines, he embarked on board the Milford, a frigate of 28 guns, commanded by Captain J. Burr. Captain Burr allowed him to return and remain on shore as long as the Milford lay at Chatham, and till she was about to sail from Sheerness. On the 18th, he took an affec- tionate leave of his family, and went on board. The commencement of the voyage was distin- guished by a seasonable discovery and prevention of danger, calculated to make a serious impression on every thoughtful mind. " December 19- We sailed from Sheernessr and came to an anchor at the Warp, the day being hazy and the wind ruther too short to carry through '■i^W' 184 tlie Narrow ». Here the providence of God began to be evidently manifested in our fuvour. A sailor in the foretop perceived «on»etliing the mutter with the topmust, that it me. While they were at Spilheud they received ordert from the Adtnirulty to proceed to Plymouth to take on board artiticeri* for Ualitax. lluviuK now the proNpect of a long voyage, Lieutenant B. thought it right to fix on nomo regular method of distribuU ing and employing his time; and accordingly pre- scribed to himnelf the following rules for that pur- pose. '< January 12. Having perceived, within these few days past, indolence and inactivity gradually creeping upon me, and being very sensible from former experience, that, if not speedily checked, it may prove in the end very prejudicial both to soul and body ; l am therefore determined, by the bless- ing of CJod, in order to stop its further progress, to adopt the following plan of living while I re- main on board the Milford ; which I purpose closely and perseveringly to adhere to, unless pre- vented by sickness, urgent business, or any other unforeseen hindrance which 1 cannot possibly avoid :— " In the months of November, December, Ja- nuary, and February, to rise at seven o'clock ; in October and March at six i and the rest of the year at five. " The fjist thiog io be douc lu. t«e inorniDg, tiie 137 iiiRtaiit I yvnkv, hi, to lift up my heart in prayer to God, to tlitiiik liiin fur hiM iiicrcicN during the night, und to iinplort? iiiii protection through the I'lifluing day: then to risu, and drrna tnyiclf, ua I piirpoN<' going the wholt* day : after which, to retirtt to my cabin, and Hpmd somt; time in prayer, reaii- iiig the Scripturf, ami chuuiiting u hymn; and if breakfast ih not ready, take a walk upon dock till it la. " After break Taut, I will »pend some time in reading or writing, according tun the pain in my breast will |)erinit me, if not otherwise employed in my duty as an officer; after which I will spend some time in walking upon deck till dinner. " Dinner over, i will again retire to my cabin, offer up my soul to God in prayer, and read a passage in the Spiritual Treasury, and then take a walk upon deck till dark; spending the evening in reading or writing, if I fmd the company of my messmates otherwise than useful or enter- taining. "At nine or ten, but never later than eleven, to retire to my cabin, pray to God, and go to rest. " JV. B. At twelve at noon, never to forget to retire, to pray for my wife, my children, my pa- rents, and all my Christian brethren : if 1 have not an opportunity of doing this at noon, to do it as soon after as possible. — O Lord Jesus, thou knowest how imperfect I am, and how unable to act any way suitable to the profession 1 have made; • il.~~..i'^^.^ ..a€,'mL,t wna. fr\ Ir ant\ tlii« reeolllhOU in UlUIUJ IWClCIUtU as-ist. l«iv ::■ •-•i'lf '••■>■■ -' 138 V as far as it is consistent with thy will, and enable me to live to thy glory." On the l6th of January, when they were near the Edystone, the master was at the helm and un- dertook to carry the ship into Plymouth Sound that night. About ten or eleven o'clock, it was discovered that, instead of being in Plymouth Sound, they were " hampered in Bigbury-bay," a few miles to the eastward of Plymouth ; a bay which appears to oiTer the finest anchorage, but the bottom is full of sharp rocks, which presently cut the cables of any anchors that can be thrown out; so that few vessels that have run into that bay have ever be( . known to get out again. In the present case, uie discovery was made at the critical juncture : if it had been a little later, or if the wind had blown strongly towards the shore, they must inevitably have been wrecked, and it is not likely that any would have escaped : but the mistake was happily discovered in time to admit of their stand- ing out to sea, and the next morning they reached their desired port. The several hair-breadth escapes they had experienced, between their departure from Sheerness and their arrival at Plymouth, were justly regarded by Lieutenant B. as so many instances of the divine goodness towards them. " January 17. The Lord hath been remarkably, gracious to us. O that we could but be truly thankful. The care of the Almighty has l)ten so evidently manifested in our favour, that even those oji, poard the ship who have ^ot iiie feaif of Go(V 139 before their eyes, could not help observing it. I need only repeat the speech of one of my mess- mates to-day at dinner. * When I consider/ said he, * how badly this ship was fitted out, the raw- ness and inexperience of our hands, the season of the year, the stormy weather we have had, and our last night's affair in Bigbury-bay, I cannot account for our being here, unless it was downright Provi' deuce that brought us.' Surely, and that same Providence must attend us all our journey through, or we shall never prosper." On the "20th they sailed from Plymouth, and on the 22d lost sight of England. During the first week Lieutenant B. suffered much from sea-sick- ness, and his situation was rendered still more dis- tressing by a violent storm. " January 29- The Lord has been pleased to lay his afflicting hand upon me, and made me to see his wonders in the great deep. During the whole of last night we were exposed to all the ter- rors of a storm, so dreadful that I believe I shall never forget it. Our ship, lying-to under a ba- lanced mizen, was entirely left to the mercy of the waves. I was so extremely sea-sick I durst not raise my head from the pillow, yet unable to keep it there through anxiety and fear and the unusual agitation of the ship; my cabin flowing with water, and my servant just recovered from a dangerous fever; sitting bare-legged from six in the evening till eight this morning, bailing it out to keep me from being swamped in my bed; now and then 140 whispering, as the sea broke over the ship, * Surely such another will knock her sides together 1' Life was burdensome, yet I shuddered at the thought of present dissolution; I had no appro- priating faith. But glory to the Master of the storm : though hidden, he was not absent, or un- concerned about it. He gave me grace to cry mightily unto him in this time of trouble, and he heard me. He knows our infirmity, and will not suffer us to be tempted above what we are able to bear. Blessed be his name ! He hatli restored me to a great degree of bodily health; at his command, the winds and waves have ceased raging so fu- riously: and I trust this affliction hath been so sanctified to my soul, that I am now made to cleave unto him more than ever. O that the remembrance cf it might never wear off from my mind. Feb- ruary 1. " February 11. To-day about noon the mizen yard fell down, and was within a few inches of kill- ing the first lieutenant and a midshipman; but for- tunately did no other damage than making a few dents in the quarter deck. I cannot forbear men- tioning a particular circumstance with regard to myself. It has been a constant custom with me ever since we sailed, to walk the quarter deck about noon ; but to-day (having had little rest in the night) I lay down upon my bed where I was dozing in safety, when the yard fell. It came down between the lieutenant and the binnacle, the side I generally walk on when we are upon deck together. Who 141 '! i can tell what the event would have been, had I been there. Surely the Lord kept me out of the way of harm." The delays they had experienced from storms and contrary winds, excited an apprehension that their stock of water might not be sufficient for the remainder; and it was therefore determined to stop at Fayal, one of the Azores or Western Islands, to take in a fresh supply. On the 21st they passed the island Pico, so denominated from its peak, a mountain of considerable height, by some re- ported to equal that of TeneriiFe. With the view of it Lieutenant B. appears to have been highly gratified. " February 21. This morning, when I went upon deck, one of the most grand and majestic objects that nature perhaps can exhibit, presented itself to my view. I was struck with wonder and amazement, hardly satisfied that my eyes were well open J the awful sight so much surprised me. It was the lofty Pico, rearing its enormous head far above the clouds, extending itself into the blue firmament, as if it would pierce the very battle- ments of heaven. I have been the greatest part of the day, which has been delightfully serene, con- templating the various aspects it puts on, from the different colours and changing forms of the passing clouds that almost continually hover round it. Sometimes they encircle its middle like a girdle leaving the base clear, but seldom reach so high' as to cover its top, which with an air of dignity }■! r . 142 proudly overlooks them as if it bad defiance td them all. Can this mountain be removed? Shall it ever be shaken and fall ? To look at it, one would imagine it impossible; but the day is coming when it shall flee away and totally disappear: but, happy thouoht! the loving kindness of the Lord to his people shall never be removed." Soon after, they reached Fayal ; where Lieutenant B. went on shore and " saw every thing worth taking notice of. The town," he says," is agreeably situated on a rising ground, facing the south, sur- rounded by very steep hills, with an extensive view of the sea on one hand, and the gigantic Pico right before it, across the roadstead, at a few miles dis- tance. Tbe streets are narrow, dirty, and badly paved; the houses low, irregular, and ill-built ; and, what I saw of their insides, abominably dirty and badly furnished ; except the room in which the go- vernor received us the day we landed. The country is delightfully pleasant, very healthy, and with a little industry might be made extremely fertile; but its unthankful inhabitants, eaten up with pride, su- perstition, and idleness, know^liot how to enjoy it. I could hardly keep my temper when I looked into their gardens end fields, and saw them all overrun with weeds, hardly producing any thing but what nature of her own accord, with little or none of their assist- ance, brought to maturity. Not a single espalier could I perceive upon any of their garden walls, thoughexposed to the best advantage, and the cfimate one of ilic finest in the world for producing peaches 143 nectarines, apricots, and all other kinds of wall- fruits : they contented themselves with having these tilings sent them in their season from a neighbouring island. The beans in the open fields, though hardly perceivable for weeds, were now in full bloom, and some of them well podded, yet we could not get a cabbage, or lettuce, or any kind of garden stuff, in the whole island. Surely such indolent, ungrateful beings do not deserve to inhabit so beautiful a country. Their oranges and lemons are extremely fine, the only fruit we had to feast upon, and we laid in a copious stock. They grew common in the fields ; and happily for the Portuguese, require very little of their trouble or attendance. — In this small town, there are three or four convents of friars, and two of nuns ; and such a number of ecclesiastics of diflForent kinds, that they make up full a fourth, if not a third, of all the inhabitants in the island. Whether it be the custom of Portugal, or the jea- lousy of the men, that keeps the ladies within doors, I cannot say ; but you will seldom see a well-dressed woman in the streets, except upon some public oc- casion, or on a holiday, going to or coming from mass. Here they all dress in black, and mostly in one way. The churches in Fayal are quite the re* verse of their dwelling-houses, extremely clean, elegantly and richly ornamented ; particularly that lately occupied by the Jesuits, now ni the possession of the crown. The grandeur of the adjoming con- vent, the number and spaciousness of its apartments, "i^f. 144 1 i. ■ f if ■i' 'i i-^ f longing to it, sufficiently demonstrate that they were no fools who built such a commodious place to live in. With all their wisdom and learnmg, however, they are now scattered over the earth, like vagabonds, hardly daring any whore publicly to shew their heads. God has not suffered them to go un- punished, even in this life. " I have seen a procession of all the different orders of monks, priests, gentry, and laity, in the town. It was headed by six penitents, bare-footed, veiled, and dressed in white, chained two and two by the leg ; one couple, with pain dragging a long heavy chain all through the diflferent streets of the town ; the other two couple, with still more pain, fastened to- gether with a straight massy bar of iron. This was imposed upon them by their confessors, by way of making atonement for their sins. It is probable they were poor people, and had it not in their power to do it in a way more acceptable to the priests. After the penitents, followed an image of our Saviour, bound to the pillar and covered with wounds, as large as life, and cajried upon monks' shoulders. After this, came the different orders of friars, carry- ing large images of their respective saints, ornamented with artificial flowers; images of the crucifixion; the patronesses of the nuns, all in different attitudes, and as large as life. Then followed the host, under a canopy, carried by a priest of the first rank, in a golden cup ; with a number of other priests singing, with music-books in their hands ; and others, tossing incense in the air; v*itU all the gentry, 146 male and female, walking behind them, and the rau ble bringing up the rear.— I could not forbear of- faring up a hearty prayer, that the Lord would open the eyes of thene deluded mortals, to sec the truth as it is revealed in the Scriptures. O my soul ! what reason hast thou to be thankful, if he hath shewn thee how to worship him in spirit ! * Be not high minded, but fear.* " On the 26lh of February, they sailed from Fayal. Dreading the equinoctial gales which were to be expected in the ensuing month, the captain en- deavoured to get into the trade winds ; but the wind being very unfavourable to this design, obliged him to give it up, and stand more to the northward. Hitherto he appears to have profited httle or nothing, from the preservation of himself and his companions amidst the various danger? which had threatened them. That he would, at some stated seasons, as- semble the crew under his command, for the purpose of offering up united praises, thanksgivings, and sup- plications, to Him from whom all good descends and who alone can deliver from every peril; it is the least we should have expected, from one who is forcibly reminded of an over-ruling Providence, by the instances of his merciful interposition which oc* curred even before the voyage could be said to be begun. But with a thoughtlessness, ahs ! too com- mon, this duty had been altogether neglected for many weeks. Whether any particular circumstance occasioned its commencement Lieut. B. has notsaid : he records thfl^rt tvithhianau^tl r>ia<-. ^r^i ^1. _, j-»v«.j VI vwaujvuuon* H '\ 146 «' March 11. Yesterday, for the first time since the ship has be':!n commissioned, we had divine ser- vice read in the great cabin, when the ship's com- pany attended with a great deal of seeming devotion, several of them furnished with prayer-books, which probably had not been much perused before. O how grievous it is that so many precious souls should go without a faithful pastor to direct them in the way to life ! Lord, bring about the happy time, when the British army and navy shall be amply sup- plied with such as faithfully preach thy gospel ; and, whenever it is faithfully preached, do thou give it success." Nothing that requires our recital occurred durnig the remainder of their voyage across the Atlantic. On the 26th of March, 1776, after a passage of four weeks from Fayal, and above nine weeks from England, they reached the port of Boston. Before their arrival, the British troops had been constrained to evacuate the town and retiie on board the fleet; which retained possession of Nantasket-bay. Their safe arrival, and the state in whiclr they found public affairs at Boston, were too important for a Christian and a lover of his country to pass without particular notice. " March 26. Glory be to God who hath brought us to our destined port in safety. Surely the Lord himself was our pilot. O that he would deign to be our gi»ide and protector, while he is pleased to con- tinue our stay in this hostile country. God only 147 know« what will be the lUd of thU unnatural war. Hitherto he has ^fJteatcd ail our attempts baffled our counsel,, and given rep^mted, unusual! and unexpected, succcm to our enemies. We have not a foot of ground here that we can call our own but a few small islands of „o use, except one on winch we get a little fresh water. They become stronger and stronger every day, and we weaker and weaker. What military stores they wante.l, we have supplied thcni with, not being able to hinder their taknig them from us : provisions a,,d other things with rpontheb...Kofde«uuct,on. that nothing but te Jodness of God could h .ve saved us Irom t. O how lanu«ntHhie...s.to he brought toac now edge this truth with the hps, and yet daily and hourly, by cursing, and swearing, and all manner of blasphemy, to be ungratefully anming against that God who ,. .0 very kind. Glory to his name for hi. long for- bearing inercy V* It Nvould be tedious to the reader to go through the details which Lieutenant. B.'s journal contams of this and the subsequent cruises of the Milford during her contuiuance on the American station; but as these cruises occupied nearly two years ot his life, we must not pass them without noticmg a few of the most interesting particulars. They sailed six times from Nantasket-bay ; and after the evacuation of that harbour, eight times from Halifax, in Nova Scotia. The objects of these cruises were, the piotection of British vessels, and the annoyance and capture of those of the enemy. They seldom returned to either of these ports without having done some execution; though luty u«u ayt "»^ oomj^o^^^^" ^ — " — ^ 119 much tuwaula the promoting the object of the wir, an•, " we uiiaiiiinously coniented to give ihem up llaii vtuml, on < oiiiiitioii that they wouiU givf Imlf llicir cargo" to three olhtr quakers, tb« |>ro)>rict(vi of a iloop that huil h<'Cii tukeii a little before. Thf other caae was of a nloop which hail «aiU'*l from Nuiitucket with ** two quakeri on board . whoiie desperate situation in the present dispute," Lieut B. says, " we have hitherto pitied, aiul on that account returned the poor creatures their sloop, though contrary to the act of parliament, and oidy took out of her a few bushels of com." In these various cruisew, they took more than tJ ^i Tty prizes, beside recaptures. Most of their pri^Qa, however, were of little value : several of them they scuttled and sunk immediately ; and several others which they sent off to Halifax, were either lost or retaken before they could reach that port. The claun of salvage on some of the recaptures was disputed, and if ultimately recovered, was much di- minished by the e.ipenses of litigMion. The prize- money gained by Lieutenant B. m this long voyage, therefore, must have been inconsiderable ; we find no statement of the whole amount ; he only mentions the receipt of two sums ; fourteen pounds for an American privateer, and about twenty-two pounds for several prizes taken in their first cruise from Hali%x. Though most of the vessels were taken without •ny fighting, yet some of them made sufficient re- listance to impress the mind of Lieutenant B. with a deep sense of the goodness of God in preserv- ii' 1 1 I,' 151 ing him from nil injury. Thin impresison, on on« (iccuflioii in purticulur, recuivcd utUiitiunul rurc« (roni the Hct'iie which he bt'hcld uii boarding the conquered iihi|), and whi<:h he thus describes: " The nianglvientenant R. makes the following ob- servations : " Great things are expected from him, but unless God be with him we shall see him guided by tl*e same spirit of error and inconsistency which seems to have planned and executed all the- operations of his predecessors in command herej since the unhappy dispute began. Tliere is really something remarkable in this. There is hardly an officer with any command on the station, however brave and sagacious before, that has acted in this affair with any degree of resolution, or even with common sense. A general murmur aguuist them is heard wherever you go. I sometimes think that God has determined to establish the Americans in; 513. r ¥ '■■* 154 their new government; and at other times, that the^ are only favoured for a while, that the vengeance of the Almighty may fall the more heavily upon them. However, I can only judge in the dark. Whatever be the Lord's will, it will surely come to pass.'* In the conduct of Captain Burr, there appears to have been little that was entitled to commenda- tion, but much that was deserving of censure. Whatever other quali ies he may have possessed, he discovered no pre-eminence of courage. " Thw morning," says Lieutenant B. « was ushered m with frowns and looks of contempt from every of- ficer m the ship for the dastardly behaviour by which we lost one prize and were very near losing a second.— The first lieutenant plainly told him he might as well be in Halifax harbour as where he was.— 'Tis my daily task, and a very difficult one, to keep my murmuring spirit within any tolerable bounds.— To see my country, as it were, left to the mercy of such men, I can hardly contain from freely speaking out the sentiments of my mind. What an eye-sore might this fine sailing ship be to the rebels, were she commanded by a spirited ac- tive man; and what advantage, in such a case, might accrue to us all, as well as to the cause in which we are engaged! On the contrary, as it is, ^hat little good we do, is what we cannot possibly avoid doing.— Thus 1 reason : but do I reason justly ? That I doubt. Had the Lord seen it best to put a brave sensible man iu the Milford instead # 155 :. f of the one he did, it certainly would have beeu done. Why, then, should I be repining at the all- wise dispensations of Providence f" Whatever the judgment disapproves, it is natu- ral to regard with feelings of displeasure ; which are too often indulged to a degree that admits of no justification or apology. Though among the occurrences of this voyage Lieutenant B. found many circumstances which could not fail of exciting such feelings ; yet he appears to have been pre- served from any excess of irritation or fretfulness, by a habit of contemplating every event as in- cluded in the genera! scheme of divine administra- tion; and, whether originating in the wisdom or folly, in the integrity or wickedness, of human agents, as divinely designed or over-ruled for ulti- mate good. The preceding passages can have left no doubt of the correctness of this observation, which we shall content ourselves w ith confirming by one extract more. It would be easy to increase theii* number, but this would carry us too far into the details of the voyage. " Being now all ready for sea at a moment's warning, nothing but a constant murmur is to be heard, both ashore and on board, at our being de- tained in harbour, when we might, at this fine sea- son of the year, be of so much service elsewhere . but our murmuring will avail but little; we must wait perhaps a fortnight or three weeks longer: and who can tell but, before another month is elapsed, some striking providence may clearly «fc-» 156 monstrate, that it was much better for us to remain here than to go to sea, however we may think otherwise at present ? The eye of the Almighty is surely over us, as well as to prevent us falling into danger as to deliver us when actually struggling with the greatest perils." Within a month after this was written, they found, by intelligence received at sea, that, if they had sailed from Halifax at the time they wished, they would, in all probability, have fallen in with an American fleet, of seven frigates, and several smaller vessels, which sailed about that time from Boston: so great a disproportion of numerical strength would have left no room for exertions of courage or skill; resistance would have been rash- ness; and nothing could have awaited them but an immediate surrender and an inglorious captivity. Lieutenant B. mentions this escape, with the fol- lowing recollections : " About three weeks ago we were murmuring against the commodore, at Hali- fax, for detaining us so long in harbour. It cer- tainly was wrong. But I said then, if we would Imt wait patiently, we might see the hand of Pro- vidence stretched out on our behalf even in this respect." On another occasion, when contrary winds de- layed them on their passage to a port where a force was collecthig to attack the enemy by land, Lieutenant B. remarks in the same pious strain : « All hands mui muring, to see the present expe- d\tWn so much retarded by means which we cannot 157 possibly prevent. Heaven frequently, by such per- plexing providences as these, endeavours to con- vince sinful mortals where they ought to apply for every necessary assistance in carrying on iheir un- dertakings. But, alas! how few among them at- tend to these friendly admonitions!" Some days after he says, " No appearance of a fair wind yet. Our stock, of patience quite worn out. The Lord has surely some hidden purpose concerning us, that we are so long detained from proceeding on our intended expedition. A very little time, perhaps, will manifest his gracious designs in our favour, though we deserve n(»thing but wrath at his hands. O that we could be brought to give up ourselves and our concerns wholly to his management I con- trary winds would not then disturb as they hav« for some days past." The event proved that the tedious passage of the Milford to the place of rendezvous was the means of preventing an expedition in w hich Lieutenant B; and his party of marines were to have been parti- cularly engaged : an expedition, which must have caused a wanton waste of military strength, in which British valour would probably have achieved heroic exploits, but in which no real service to the cause could possibly have been performed. — . " Surely," says Lieu* .ant B. " the hand of Pro- vidence is here, marked in the most legibk cha-* racters. O my soul ! never dare to murmur at de- lays for the future, or presume to dictate to the Al- mighty. 168 - 7« 4' During his stay at this place of rendezvous. Lieutenant B. was Ratified with opportunities of seeing many of the North American Indians. Some of the ungrateful sons of Britain have be- trayed so grovelling a taste, as to prefer the barba- rism of savag*^ life and the gloom of superstition, to the refinements and comforts of civilization and the broad day-light of Christianity. Lieutenant B. viewed these Indians with very different sentiments: « From the frequent visits of the Indian chiefs, to the camp ashore and on board the men-of-war in the harbour, 1 have had the pleasure of seeing something of the manners, customs, and way of living, of that savage race. But, O ray God! what reason have I to bless thee for giving me a teing in a Christian country. These poor wretches are enveloped in ignorance and thick darkness, out of which they neither expect nor wish to be extri- cated. Some years ago, when the French pos- sessed this country, they took great pains to in- struct the Indians in the Roman-catholic religion; to which they still seem to adhere, but how far they have been bettered by it, is hard to say. However, their attachment to it at this day, plainly shews what great success might be hoped for, if the gos- pel were faithfully preached among them. But, alas ! the Protestant inhabitants, in general, of this province, leas deserve the name of Christians than the Indians themselves. Faithful, laborious mi- nisters are wanted by Uiousands in the northern parts of America. In some places there are none 159 of any kind for a thousand miles round, or ulicre there are, ihey lead the people astray. O happy, thrice happy old England, did you hut know it!" On returning to Halifax the laat time hut one, Lieutenant B. makes the following remarks on the healthy state of the crew : " We, the individuals in this ship, have every reason to bless God for his peculiar regard to us. Go where we will, fresh marks of his goodness are daily displayed in our favour ; some so singular and conspicuous, that the most profane among us cannot forbear taking no- tice of them. Here the ships are all sickly ; a pestilential disorder reigns among them, that carries off great numbers : but the Milford's are all in per- fect health, though it is natural to suppose we should be the most sickly, from our having so many troops and prisoners on board : but here the favour of Heaven becomes obvious beyond all doubt. Other ships bury their dead : we have had none to bury. Their sick lists are crowded; some contain- ing a hundred, unfit for duty, and dying : we have but four men who ail any thing, and they walk the deck ; though Me have now in this small frigate three hundred and fifty souis. O that we had but grace to be thankful !" In the course of the last cruise, which lasted about seven weeks, thty met with several very re- markable deliverances from the jaws of death. At such seasons of trouble, in a peculi^ir manner, Lieutenant B. felt it to be both his duty and his privilege to call uqou Godj and he has recorded r , t60 many instances of preservation, which he considerccf as answers to his prayers. " O what a treasure," says he, *' is a throne of grace ; and how blest the man who has learnt to approach it! Not all the riches of the Indies ran be compared with this. Here I can get freely, for Christ's sake, what gold cannot purchase, — the protection of the Al- mighty." The best of men have shewn the most rigid se- verity in the judgments which they have passed upon their own conduct. Comparing themselves with the standard of Christian perfection, and the claims of infinite goodness, th y have often con-, fesscd and lamented great defects and small attain- ments, even in those parts of their characters in which they have excelled the generality of their fellow-Christians. Few men have been more sub- missive to divine allotments, or more grateful for divine interpositions, than Lieutenant B. ; yet, on this very cruise, he seems to include himself with his companions in the following confession: — " Though we are always ready to murmur against a God of providence, when his ways seem to thwart our selfish inclinations, we are not so apt to acknowledge his goodness, when things are brought about to our utmost wishes in an unexpected man- ner. »> On returning once more to Halifax, he says: '* This last cruise will prove one of the least ad-' vontageous of any we have had on the coast ; but- I hope I shall ever remember it as one of the mo^t* 161 forttmatfi : it enhihitfi no many in^fanre* of a divine providence displayed in our behalf. — lii this frud, imparled, sinful state, we may now and lh» n get a glimpHe of some of the outlines of that aniuzing plan by which the God of providence directs and rules over all his creatures. But to trace all the mysterious, intricate windings and turnings by which events are brought to pass, is reserved for those only who, through the blessed Jesus, shall be found worthy to reign with him m another world. Yet even here, the displays of his good- ness are so manifest and numerous, that, to the attentive observer, they cannot but afford a conti- nual feast of solid pleasure. What we once thought our greatest misfortune, we now see proves to be our greatest mercy.— In judging of events, we are all too apt to * call good evil and evil good:* and this should teach us to leave the issue of every event to the Ruler of the universe, without the least repining ; because he certainly cannot err, as we do daily, but must act for his own glory and our good !" In the course of the next week, they were in the greatest danger of being shipwrecked in Halifax- harbour, by a violent storm, of which Lieutenant B. gives the following account: " Dec. 14, 1777. Bless the Lord, O my soul; £ id all that is within me praise his holy name, for the speedy and unexpected deliverance he wrought this day, when death, in all its horrors, seemed ready to swallow me up. — When we moored the m ihip yesterday aftornoou, having every thiug iniif ; nu foreniu.Ht, no lua-sts or yuriiii uloft, wu iaiagmud ourselves perfectly vecuro. But Uow iuNufticient are all huiuaii precautious^, when they oppose the miuisterii of the xVluiighty's vengeuoce ! We ure too apt to dreud the approach of danger when it i« furthest oii\ and to think it at a distance when it is very near. We went to bed in the greatest se- curity ; but between three aud four thi^ morniug there came on such a violent hurricane, that, be- fore we could well get our clothes on, the ship snapped both her cables in two, like a rotten thread, and drove with amazing velocity, we knew not whither, so that every body was looking out for instant destruction. We struck two men-of-war in our way, carried away the larboard-quarter gallery quite smooth as if it had been cut with a knife, lifted one ship's anchor from the bows to the quar- ter-deck, shaved oft' the head of another, aud a few minutes after ran ashore on a heavy surf. We began tiring guns of distress, and the mizen-mast was ordered to be cutaway; but before it received a single stroke of an axe, tl)e violence of the wind snapped it oft* a foot above the deck ; and just as we were expecting every moment that the ship would bilge or go to pieces, it pleased the Al- mighty to abate the wind ; the sea instantly went down; and shores being fixed to keep the ship up* right, we lay quiet till day-break. Then we found we had been driven a mile from our moorings, and had Ijeen providentially directed to a spot of sand, close Kid (o a ledge of rock/i, where, had we touched, tht conscquciicf niu;d. From this part of the journal, we cannot forbear transcribing an incidental attestation to the practical efficacy of a doctrine, which its rejectors have stig- matised as " relaxing the obligations of virtue;" we mean the doctrine of atonement for sin by the death of Christ. " Yesterday morning I had some glances of the wcciousness of Jesus and his great salvation, and a 169 in the cveninjT, Mr. preached an excellent sermon, which filled me with holy ardour to know and enjoy more and more of that glorious subject. how the truths of the gospel, when preached in their purity, lead the soul to pant after holiness ! 1 will leave this testimony behind me ; that I never wished nor wrestled half so much to be holy, as when 1 saw my sins wholly done away in Christ." On being called in from recruiting, he says: " I am not a little pleased this disagreeable service is over for the present ; though it is not at all im- probable tliat I may very soon be engaged in it again. In that case J shail not be so much at a loss how to act, as I have been lately : but, upon the whole, I have reason to be thankful, I have lost nothing by it; and, I trust, during my stay at Bris- tol, I have gained no small share of comfortable Christian experience." The last month of this year Lieutenant B. re- mained at Chatham. He entered on the year 1779 with the prospect of being soon ordered on more active service, and with sentiments suitable to such an expectation. " Jan. 1. 1779- I can truly say with the royal psalmist. The Lord crowneth the year with his goodness ; or I had never lived to see the beginning of this day. What trials, dangers, and tempta- tions, await this year, the great Ruler of all only knows. Were I to judge according to outward appearances, I might tremble at the prospect of I 170 xvhat I am likely to go through. But the Lord reigneth, and hath tlie inanageiiient ot all luy con- cerns in his own handii so that I have only to v^a.t, in the means of faith and prayer, to receive the bless- ing At present 1 bless his name that, contrary to all I could have expected, but in answer to fervent prayer, I enjoy the happiness of bcmg w.th my family ; but I urn every day looking out for a re- „,ove somewhere else. In the present critical and alarming state of the nation, I would not be an idle spectator; and though I have all the horrors of ^ar before me, vet, I am confident, the same God who preserved me during the last two or three years in Ameri. a, can preserve me any where else, and in him alone I put my trust. I hope I can say, I this evening tasted a little of his love, as a happy earnest that he wdl never leave me nor iorsake •I" Some time in this month Mr. B. was appointed Captain-Lieutenant; and, soon after, he was again ordered on sea-duty. « Feb. 2. This forenoon I received an order to repair to Portsm mthon board the Eagle. This dispensation of P.ovidence did not affect me much at first, being fully convmced I could not be much longer ashore ; and I thought it rather favomable to be sent no further than Portsmouth; but towards evening, having received certam ac counts that the ship was going immediately to In- dia, I could hardly bear the melancholy idea of ao 171 long tt separation from all that \n dear to me in tlie world. liutluokinnl«t Uie ilamroun voice of woe Imriulc «ipon my cwr ? Though he inourn» that " tlio fit sli lusteth against tlie spirit," he rcjoiceth thut " the spirit lusteth against ihu flesh." While it is admittca that hit " heart kuoweih its own bitterness," it nuiy also be affirmed that " a stranger ittteruieddleth not wit^i his joy." A keen and growing sensibility to every appear- ance of evil, a conviction of his weakness and ina- bility to withstand the temptations which assail him, the humility of mind produced by this consciousness of insufficiency, the circumspection promoted by an abiding sense of moral danger, the constant appli- cation he is impelled to make to the Father of spirits for the grace that he needs, an application which he never makes in vain ; all contribute to the formation and progress of the Christian character, which, with all the imperfections adhering to it in the present life, entitles its possessor to be denominated righ- teous, and justifies the assertion of Solomon, that the u _:~u*^«..o ta «inr*» Picrelleut than his neiRhbour.* 176 Among the readem of thenc votumei there may probably be lomc, by whom our romnrku, a« \v«'ll ai many pasHOgei of Captain H.'n journal!*, will brc wo havt* hnd le- vcral Vfry severe gales o( wind; {mrtirulurly last iii(i;ht, wlini some sliipi drove, niid others let go their sheut aiirhors, even in this conini«>UioiiN har- bour. What u loud < ull for thankfulness to God, who has brou^ht u8 through such a vast tract of sea, and not suffered any storm like tliis to come near uf till we were moored in safety ! " 24. We are soon to go from hence to Table- bay. I believe none of us will much regret leaving thii place. It is nothing but a mass of sand, sur- rounded with very high mountains ; with about half a dozi II houses a little way from the beach, and a long row of buildings containing all kinds of ■tores ; which the Dutch have erected for the use of the shipping which resort hero in the winter months, Simon's bay being a much better harbour than that on the other side of the Capo. The rea- son the Dutch do not settle here in preference, seems very obvious ; the soil is not worth culti- vating, when compared with tlie vast tracts of rich ground on this delightful continent; and the bay, though the best of harbours, has this inconvenience —that in summer you cannot easily get a wind to put to sea with. — During our stay here, my excur- sions ashore have been generally aiun-' fhu beach: where I amuse myself in pickirji, up tX variouo kinds of shells thrown there by the tide, and in- dulge the pleasing idea of one day presenting these trifles to my Uttle ones. Sometimes i ascend the to collect Sui ifiy €^W%^ ^^»m#J«>tfkaa ^uuvavwUi im vv hnd •(•• ulnrly luat u*rH let go lUioiiM har- !MII to C«(mI, nut of Hv.a, lilt* iicitr ut D to I'ublw- ;rt>t leaving itaiiil, 8ur- I about half beucli, and I kinds of for tbe u«e the winter lit harbour The rea- preference, orth culti- tct8 of rich d the bay, onvenience t a wind to my excur- ^1 ; beach : lie variouu le, and in- nting these ascend the ~_4. _n cv;i sui mj thoughtu in rontempfathig tin* Dring who fornird tluin. Hut ih«« objects aroiuid ni*' arc no striking, the nhruhlMry to cnplivntuig.iui.j my n„nd so prone to wander, that, ere 1 am aware, I lout- aiglit of ihe glorioua Author, und grovel in ronti inpluting (he creature!, without < onsichring from whose hand they came. O what it rich treasure ia a heavcnl/ mi ltd ! •• T«blc-bay, Srptcinber 15. It has blown hard lor Home days in thin open roadsttad, and we have p«rte; and I must own I never tasied any thing so delicious. In all tlas tract ot country there is only the town at the Cape of any note, and that is allowed to be a very handsome one; the streets are large and straight, but not pavev»r iinfQir<^w.vni.i^ «i K 2 Pi 4 '3 I % 196 might be. In consequence of this pracUcc and the effect of earthly adhesions, the moral picture is ex- tremely diversified, and sometimes deeply shaded: yet it is not therefore the less instructive, ^one ,^ho has contemplated the scenes of nature, ex. pects to find the surface of the earth uniformly smooth, or the sun constantly shining: none xvho explores the fields of intellect expects to find the man of wit always vivacious and sparklmg, or the man of genius always soaring above the reach of or- dinary mortals : nor must a thoughtful observer ex- pectto find the man of piety always serene and cheerful, or always free from the influence of se- cular concerns. This is to all a state of mutability, and is thence the better fitted for a state of dis- cipline. Our situations vary ', our characters vary : but it is the privilege of the diligent Christian, that all the mutations in his character and his circum- stances tend to the perfection and « freedom of the sons of God." " As all natural bodies are mixed (says good Bishop Hall), so must all our moral dis- positions. No simple pas^on doth we 1. If our ioY be not alloyed with sorrow it is madness : and if our sorrow be not tempered with some mixture of joy it is hellish and desperate. If, m earthly thim^s, we hope without all doubt, or fear without all hope, we offend on both sides : if we labour without all recreation, we grow dull and heartless; if we sport ourselves without all labour, we grow WM and unprofitable. I care not how simple my ^ - ,..k;oV. tliA mnre free they heavenli/ altecuous uic, T»I«^-» — -- 197 are from composition are the nearer to God ; nor how compounded my earthlt/, which are subject to extremities. If joy come alone I will ask him for his fellow; and evermore, in spite of him, couple him with his contrary : that so, while each are enemies to other, both may be friends to me." " February 1. 1 have been ashore at Madras for some days ; but never was in any part of the world where I enjoyed less satisfaction than here. — The danger of being upset in the surf when you land, is the first disagreeable circumstance you meet with ; and then follow many others which a European cannot at first easily put up with. The ex- cessive heat of the sun which obliges you to keep the house during the greatest part of the day, or else to be broiled alive; the dust and sand you walk through, with which your shoes and stockings are continually full, make it very disagreeable at first : as do the strange customs of the inhabitants, so foreign to what we have been used to ; such as, sleeping all the afternoon, shifting and dressing several times in the day, never using their legs but continually lolling about in a palanquin, lying upon a hard couch all fcight, and, what is worst of all, held in a state of perpetual torment by that noxious animal the mosquito. However, after a little time, a stranger becomes familiarized to all these things, and then the town is passable, and the country de^ lightful. As to Madras itself, or rather Fort St. George, it is one of the most formidable fortifica- tions I ever saw; and I don't think that any power 198 ^11 'mm ^^^H f,: m ^^M ^■^- .jidil ^^^^1 1 Ift fm in this part of the world will ever be able to Uke it. It contains a number of houses well inhabited, and barracks for many thousand men, with one of the best supplied arsenals in India. About a niiU out of the garrison is the Black-Town ; where many Europeans have houses, and where reside at least a hundred thousand Blacks, Mulattos, Moors, Ame- ricans, and Indians, of all castes. Yesterday, by order of the admiral, the four captains of marines in the fleet, with two lieutenants of the navy out of each ship, were ordered ashore, to attend the cere- mony of presenting the king's letter to the nabob of the Carnatic. About eight o'clock in the morning, the procession set off from the admiral's house in the fort to the nabob's palace, three miles from Madras. Lord M'Leod's regiment, in their High- land dress, marched in front : the admiral's secre- tary, in a rich palanquin, carrying the king's letter, went next: then followed the admiral, the general, the captains of the navy, the captams of marines, lieutenants of the navy, officers of the garrison i and a great mixed multitude bringing up the rear. The nabob received us under a rich canopy in his hall of audience. The king's letter was read with a great deal of ceremony : and, after the usual com- pliments had passed, Sir Edward Hughes intro- duced the officers of his squadron that went in the procession ; and each of us presented the nabob with five pagodas, value about two pounds sterling; a common custom by which to acknowledge sub- jection to his government. He did not accept the 190 uioiiey, which we were not sorry for ; though when he accepts it, it is reckoned a mark of the highest favour. From the Hall of Audience, we were ushered into three spacious rooms, where a most sumptuous and elegant breakfast was provided for us, of all kindH of fruit and sweetmeats, with tea, coffee, chocolate, &.c. of which we partook verj plentifully, having been till ten o clock in the fore- noon without tasting any thing. After breakfast, the nabob and his sons reviewed the Highland regimenfy and then we all returned to the fort. The navy party dined with the admiral ; and in the evening the governor gave a grand supper and ball. I par- took of the former; had a look at the company in the ball-room ; and, when they went to dancing, I went to bed, heartily tired with all the Eastern pomp and grandeur in which I had bceo an actor through- out the day. " 20. For some days past, I have found my- self not at all well, and have every reason to fear this hot climate will never agree with my con- stitution. " March 11. I am far from being well, and am at a great loss what to do. Sometimes I think it will be counteracting the designs of Providence, to attempt to get home : on the other hand, when I find my health declining, I think it is tempting God, not to use the means to get away from this unhealthy climate. The Lord direct me, and not leave me to my own choice, but settle the whole according to his will and my good ! 200 *j 13 f- <* 24. Finding myself willi every Hvmptoni of a declining state of litulth in this scorching climate, I this morning wrote to the admiral for leave to go home in any of the ships of war bonnd to the Cape; and, at the same time, acquainted my friend, Captaia Simonton, with my reasons for so doing. ** 25. Captain Simonton inf«>rm9 me that the admiral not only consents to my going home, but intends to remove me as captahi of marines to one of the ships. This will be of great advantage to me ; as I shall not only have a share of any prizes that may be taken, but be entitled to good accommo- dation, and probably be able to complete a tour of sea-duty as full captain : advantages none of which I could have enjoyed, had I been sent home sick as a passenger only. The Lord has been pleased to grant more than I asked. O that my heart would dissolve in gratitude for so many mercies so freely conferred ! " April 4. This morning I left the Eagle and embarked oil board the Rippon. I would now humbly approach a throne of grace, and solicit the same favours which were graciously granted to me on my arriv i\ from America. May the Lord take me soon, in health, peace, and safety, to my native country!— may 1 fmd my wife in health, earnestly seeking after God ; and our dear little ones alive and well, to prove future blessings !— may I find my parents still alive, to give me their blessing ere they go home:— may 1 find the gospel of Christ 201 nercies mo (loiinBhing in Engluiul, ■iid those I am more inti- mately ac(|iiainti-cl Hud connected with, at Chat- iiani, incrcusL'd in number, faith, hope, aiul love 1 Lord ! hear these prayers, and the glory shall all be thine. " 7. At the time I nm now writing we are out of night of Madras; the signal being made to get under way, before four o'clock in the morning. Hic Hclle-Isle, Asia, and Kippon, with four India- men, compose our fleet. Hardly one of my brother- officers but wished to leave this country, and on me alone is the bieHsiug conferred ! Lord! give me a heart to praise thee fur it. " June 4. When I was first informed of my appointment to the Rippon, she was far from being the ship I liked best. My 'attention was fixed on the Asia, and there my choice had been placed. But now I rejoice to find myself in the Rippon, as being by far the most agreeable ship of the three. The epidemical distemper in the Asia, with which upwards of a hundred of her people are now in- fected, is aloud cull for thankfulness, that I am not sent among them. Besides, rhe Rippon sails bet- ter, and is better manned and officered. It is often a great mercy, when God will not permit us to have our own choice ! ''' June 9. The commodore made the signal for the other two captains, and, after consulting with them a very short time, it was determined to make the best of our way to St. Augustine's bay, in Madairascar. The Asia has a hundred and forty, K 3 . 202 tbe B«Me-W€, a hundred .nd twenty, and ih* Rippon fifty nun ..ck, .no«Uy of the .curvy .«d dying daily. Nothing hut the -horc, with the ble..^ iug of GckI, coil do ui good. " 15. Here we arc at Inst, iiafe at an anchor, m St. Augustine » bay, Madagaicar. ** 18 Hu^y erecting tcntn a»hore for the sick, and fo. a guard to protect them, the command of vvhich 1 am intrusted with ; though I believe there will be but little occanion for it. " July 8. O" the fi2d ultimo came in four In- diamcnfromChma, which, after beating nomc time oflf the Cape, and uttempting in vain to get m, ^cre obliged to bear up for Madagascar. Ihis v^eek the Moss, Iiidiaman, arrived in great distress. She had parted from the other four at sea, had been in sight of False-Uy, and afterwards, by violent storms, was obliged to bear up for this place. It is a fuvourable circumstance for them that they found us here, as they will now enjoy the benefit of our protection. A very remarkable pro- vidence that so many ships, so necessary to each other for their mutual protection, should all meet •t one time, from ditVerent parts of the globe, at a place so entirely out of the route they separately proposed to pursue on their respective voyages !— Furious winds drove the China ships to St. Au- gustine's bay : long calms, producing an inveterate scurvy, caused our coming hither. The Almighty can employ a storm or a calm, or both, to bring aK«..t thP same effect. We may see the Lord's aa» giHxinrra to uion txiani the king'it ahips, in not luf- frring us tc> proc«>r<( ot oiicf) to the Cape, ■■ w« intriidud : for, hud w« done it, it in every bodjr'i opinion wo nhould have loat tho greatest part of our baiidi, and the roaiaiuder would have been in tlit greateat distreaa. •* 9> 'Hiii !• Sunday : but, O ! how different iu appearance from aome of the sacred daysi I have Bt)cu in that highly favoured isle where the truths of the gospel are preached in their purity ! Happy, tiuicohuppy Britain ! I am now sitting, like Abia- hitui, at my tent-door in the heat of the day ; not viaittd by angels, but surrounded by naked, ig- norant beings of u very different complexion, whose language is as strange to me as mine is to them. — Say, O my soul ! wouldst thou change conditions with any of those now before thee ? Thy Maker alone hath made the difference. Never forget what he hath done for thee ; and on this sacred day, though deprived of the means of grace, let the scene before thee awoken all thy powers to thank- fulnciis and praise ! "11. This afternoon Captain Blacket, some other gentlemen, and myself, with an English lady from one of the ships, paid a visit to the king, or babaw, at his own tent. They received us with great pomp, in their way ; seated in an awkward posture upon the sand, at the outside of the door; the king riding astride upon the shoulders of one of his guards. They were all struck with the ap- pearance of the lady ; most likely the first white 204 'ii woman ihey had ever seen : she was, indeed, ex- tremely handsome, and richly dressed ; and old and young came ont of their huts, expressing the greatest surprise at the sight. The king made her a present of a sheep, and one of his first officers, of a mat. As we could not converse much with them, our stay at court was very short, and our cu- riosity soon satisfied; especially as we have the pleasure of his majesty's company almost every day at our tents. He is a fine looking lad of seventeen years of age, of an open, generous disposition, but entirely ruined by drinkhig. He loves strong h- quor, and is never easy till he has drunk more than he can bear. The knowing ones in power ta! e the advantage of his youth and of this failing, and do just as they please. From the unlimited power and jarring interests of his favourites, his subjects are not so happy as ihey ought to be. Tyranny and oppression, we have daily seen, are no strange things in Madagascar. " 29. This morning the commodore made the signal for moving, and got under way before sun-rise, the whole fleet following, consistnig of three men- of-war and nine Indiamen. The Lord conduct us to our destined port '.—Madagascar is certainly one of the lirst islands in the world, from its size, situation, and fertility. The inhabitants are numerous; but their Creator has so amply provided for their sustenance, that, without taking any trouble but thct of collecting their food, they may live even luxuriously aii the year round. It is truly a land of 205 milk and honey. No spot, perhaps^ in the world abounds more in cattle. Strange as it may sound to an Englishman's ear, a rich Madagascar farmer does not know the number of his oxen by two or three thousand. In some parts, half the cows are not milked, because they have no use for the milk. Bees breed so fast in hollow trees, that they have a sufficiency of honey for the gathering of it : of which they make a kind of mead, called in their lan- guage Toak. In short, were this island in the hands of a civilized people, it might supply the eastern world with every commodity that- either the torrid or a temperate zone can produce ; for it lies in both. But one grand obstacle, while it subsists, will hinder this island from becoming formidable. It is divided into seven or eight districts, governed by so many kiugs, who are continually at war with one another : and the principal trade they carry on with Europeans is for powder and arms to facilitate their mutual destruction. I sold my fusil, a very old one, for eight fat sheep ; and with a little powder, worth ten shillings, we purchased an ox, of five hundred weight. Our fresh meat, with which the whole tieet was sup- plied every day for six weeks, did not coi.t us above a farthing a pound; and finer beef even old Eng- land itself cannot produce. But the destructive wars, in which the nations engage, frequently oblig- ing them to change their place of abode, greatly pre- vent the cultivation of laud. I'hty were ail unanit mous in informing us, that the instant ihe tleet sailed they were going to attack a neighbouring prince, I I' n I!; Vi- 206 ^ho had frequently stolen their cattle, and carried off whole families captive. Their custom is, to sell ttll the mule prisoners, taken in war, to the French or Dutch, who trade here for slaves. The women the captors reserve for themselves, either as wives or servants ; so that a Madagascar soldier, after a few years' successful war, generally becomes master of a very numerous family. It is the custom here, to have several wives ; though the first is generally the most respected, and has a kind of rule over the rest: but all of them are in the greatest subjection to their husband, who has power to divorce, and take others at pleasure ; and when he returns home after any unusual excursion, they kneel down and lick his feet : a mark of respect which is commonly shewn by the lower class of people to their superiors, particularly to the king every evening when he re- , tires to his tent. « Various are the opinions respecting the origin of the inhabitants of this great and populous island ; and after all that has been said and written upon the subject, it still remains, and in all probability will ever remain, undecided, how and when it was first peopled . Some think they are of Jewish extraction, from their constant practice of circumcising all their male children ; and others, that they sprang from Mahometans, alleging the same reason. But there are no other marks in favour of these con- jectures. It appears to me that they are of a much older date, and probably the immediate descendants ^c Ham thf> son of Noah. Their idea of cucum- 207 cision they may have had from Abraham ; who re- ceived this seal of the covenant from God, while the sons of Noah were alive, and probably before their descendants had spread far abroad. And Abraham being a great man in those days, much respected, with a numerous family of male servants and slaves, all circumcised ; it is no unlikely thing that those around him who had less power would copy after a man whom they knew to be so highly favoured of his Maker. If it be asked how Ham's race got to Madagascar; — it is expressly said in Genesis x. 18, " And afterward were the families of the Canaanites spread abroad :" and as they lived on the sea-coatit, and had seen the children of Japheth people the Mediterranean isles, we may conclude that they likewise knew how to build ships. The ark was no small one ; and Shem, who had no doubt helped his father to build it, we are sure from Scripture was then alive, and probably his two brothers. They could teach their art to their children ; who must have been very stupid indeed, if in the space of five or six hundred years they did not improve upon their father's plans. That they did, I think is pretty clear, from the twenty-seventh chapter of Ezekiel, and many other parts of Scripture. And if these ships did not carry them round the Cape of Good Hope, they no doubt transported them to the coast of Africa, whence they might pass to Madagascar in a few days. " These people acknowledge one only true God, the Creator^ and supreme Ruler of all things ; but 208 I' K fi f ij; being deprived of tliat glorious revelation which we enjoy, they have fallen into a thousand errors with respect to their manner of worshipping him. They conceived him to be too great and powerful to con- descend to hear their prayers, or reveal himself to any of his creatures ; and therefore they suppose he has ordained four inferior spirits to transact his affairs in the four quarters of the world, whom they call Lords of the North, South, East, and West, each, according to the quarter they govern. Besides these, they have greut faith in a world of spirits ; every family having its guardian angel, or particular spirit, generally the soul of a departed ancestor, to whom they address their prayers, and whom, by means of an oztlei/, a kind of ephod, they consult in any critical situation : and they suppose that these spirits reveal to them in dreams what they ought to do. They have a kind of prophets who pretend to great familiarity with the guardian spirits : and wherever they establish this notion, they can do any thing with the credulous.— It is lamentable that some attempts are not made to convert the Mada- gasses to Christianity. If a thorough knowledgt^ of the language were attained, I thmU it mij>ht be done through the blessing of God, with great success. They entertain a hi^h idea of the superior under- standing and judgment of white people; and I am sure would be glad to learn from them. One of the king or babaw's chitfs, a vtr> sensible man, and able to hold a conversation ni English, used ♦!., *.^ j;«o «ntl' us We sometnnes inter- iiCUUCUllJ 209 rogated him about his religion, which he seemed to be rather ashamed of than attached to, often re- fusing to satisfy us, saying white man know better ; he laugh at Madagascar man pray God. But the specimen of Christianity in the lives of our reprobate seamen, the only white men they see, can be no in- ducement for them to change their religion: and they are no fools, though we call them savages. As far as we experienced, they are a sociable, humane kind of people. I have frequently travelled for a whole day, over the hills, unarmed, and met them in the woods with their formidable spears, fully per- suaded I had no ill treatment to fear. They would shake me by the hand in a very familiar manner, jabber a few sentences in their language, and then, when they found we could not understand one another, walk on with a smile. " Aug. 1 1, 12, 13, at sea. Three as dreadful days and nights as ever I experienced at sea ! Glory to the God of all mercy, who did not leave us wholly to the fury of the tempest ; or it must have swallowed us up! The hurricane blew mostly from the w.n.w., and raised such a sea, that it twice set us aBoat in the wardroom, broke in astern before we got dead- lights up, stove m both quarter galleries, washed over the quarter-deck, and made the ship every where so leaky with the violent motion, that the greatest part of our bread is wet and spoiled ; many of our sails are torn to pieces, and the whole convoy separated from us. A retrospect of the danger is even now tremendous ; it baulc-s all description. 'pBI 1 i f u- 210 ** «4. We passed the famowi Cape of Good Hope, and the whole fleet that sailed from Mada^ gascar being assembled together, we sailed along shore in hopes of getting ihto Table-Bay befort dark. " 9,5. This morning the fleet worked up the bay, and moored before the town. — The moment we arrived, the Dutch informed us, that, had we come in ten or twelve days sooner, exactly the time we expected when we left Madagascar, we must ail in- evitably have perished, from one of the hardest gales of wind that they have experienced fur a long while, setting right into the bay. By the description they give of the sea that was then running, it was not possi- ble tbat anchors and cables could hold a ship ; and going ashore here is almost certain death to the crew. The gracious interpositions of our omni- potent Protector ought to fill every heart with love. " October 12. Farewell to Africa. This morn- ing the signal was made to weigh, and in a few hours the whole fleet was once more safely out at sea. " 25. According to our late lunar observations, we were this morning pretty near the meridian of London : consequently our time here is the same with that of our frJends at home, though removed many thousands of miles from them ; and it is not improbable but we may be thinking or conversing about one another at the same instant. This cir- cumstance has aflbrded me many a pleasing reflec- tion.'— In India, where our time differed about five hours and a half, I made it a constant practice to 211 remember my dear family, wife and children, parents and friciuls, at a throne of grace, about ten o'clock, my usual time of going to bed. And then I some- times said to myself: It is now only half after four in the afternoon with them. — ^They have other things to mind at present than think of me. But by and by when I am locked in the arms of sleep, and cannot pruy for myself, then I doubt not many an ardent petition will be put up for my safety : and in the morning when I wake, I will in my turn re- new my addresses in their behalf while sleep has sealed their eyelids. " 29. Early this morning we made sail towards the island of St. Helena, and came to an anchor before twelve o'clock. A few days will complete our watering, and then we know of nothing else to interrupt our passage home. ** November 3. The Commodore has given no- tice that he intends leaving this place the day after to-morrow. — St. Helena, to outward appearance, is a barren rock, without a single shrub upon it ; a mere cinder thrown up, by some violent eruption, from the bottom of the sea. It is high, and inac- cessible, except on the north-west side, where it is pretty well fortified. The town is situated in what the inhabitants call a valley, or, more properly speaking, a narrow gully between two very sttep mountains; opposite to which, and close to the shore, ships anchor, there being no other soundings round the island. With great labour they have made two very commodious roads, winding up the r m:.\ 010 f steep precipices that overhang the town : and when the passenger reaches the top, the scene is totally changed : the most fertile, beautiful, romantic, spots that can be imagined attract his attention in the centre of the island ; though, from the indolent dis- position of the inhabitants, and the particular laws of the India Company, to '^rhom it belongs, U is not half so well cultivated as it ought to be. Those who have only seen the town, forts, and outside of St. Helena, must pronounce it a barren rock; while those who have climbed to its summit and seen the country, must say the very reverse : and from this circumstance the different accounts of tra- vellers may be easily accounted for. But it is cer- tainly one of the most temperate, pleasant, healthy islands in the world. The extremes of heat and cold are equally unknown here ; spring and summer reign throughout the year; winter has no existence at St. Helena. It is about forty miles in circum- ference, and contains about three thousand inha- bitants, including the garrison. There are two churches, one in the town, the other in the country; but if 1 may judge from what I saw and heard, their religion is nothing more than a mere outside form. Lord ! send me safe to Great Britain wher« it is to be found in purity. " 12. This morning we came to an anchor on the north-west side of the island of Ascension. We sent the boat ashore immediately, in hopes of getting some turtle; but to our great disappoint- ment we found that though there had been many ou 213 tu !uaiiy uu the beach that night, they had all taken to the water before the boat arrived. It is customary for ships that touch here, to leave a note in a quart bottle on a well known spot, called The Post-office. We saw rothing but broken bottles. This island has a much more pleasant appearance from the sea than St. Helena; the land in general being more level, and the hills less rugged : but not being cultivated, there is no vegetation to be seen near the landing- place ; and nobody, as far as I can find, having ever attempted to settle on it, there is no saying what it can or cannot produce. The great obstacle that prevents settlement upon it, is there being no water within some miles of the landing-place; so that ships cannot be supplied with that useful article here without the greatest trouble and expense. All that render this island famous, are the great quan- tities of the finest turtle in the world which are caught here. The homeward-bound Indiamen ge- nerally stop one or two nights; and while the turtle are ashore, to lay their eggs or to rest themselves which they always do in the night, a number of seamen, who had been concealed behind the rocks, rush out suddenly and turn them on their backs ; and by that means will carry off forty or fifty, about three or four hundred weight each. Unfortunately for us, we arrived too late, and durst not stay another night. *' November 14 — December 2. I have suffered much in my health. The heat has been excessive; the thermometer up to 97. At present I hardly ■. ' i i 214 •eein to exki ; so indolent, Unguid, and helple«. The wheolB of Ufe are clogged, and every epring of Wtion want, wiiidiug up. Nothing waa so bcneti- cial to me an a temperate cUmate, when 1 laboured under this weak state in India. The Lord in mercy, if coniiatent with his blessed will, keep me from ever viMiting a hot climate again ! t* December 26. On the «l8t instant, I sat down on a chair to windward of the mess-table that was lashed in the middle of the ward-room; where I bad not been two minutes, when the ship taking a very deep roll brought a chest of two or Uirce hundred weight down upon me, with such violence, that after striking me in the loins and small of the back, it carried the table, lashings, chairs, me, and all to' leeward. 1 scrambled from the wreck, but could neither stand nor walk, and was obliged to be carried to bed ; and 1 am afraid it will be a great while before I get my wonted strength again. But the will of tlie Lord be done ! "31. This is Sunday, and the last day of Wiother year. My soul, meditate on the many fa- vours and mercies thou hast received whilst it has been rolling on ! They are too many to be num- bered, and too distinguished to be forgotten. The 'Lord is good beyond all conception. From this moment, through his assisting grace, I would de- vote myself afresh, wholly and unreservedly, to hie aervice." On the 9th of January, 1781, the fleet put mto C-"-t»^3«*^n in Ireland, and remained there above I 215 three weeki. On the nintli of February they an- chored in the Downs. There Captain B. received intelligence from home, both pleasing; und painful. Hia wife and children were in good health : but his father had died early in the preceding year; an event which Captain B. describes as an everlasting advantage to him, but a great and irreparable losa to his surviving friends. In the beginning of March, having solicited and obtained from the Admiralty, leave for a month's relaxation from ofiicial duty, Captain B. had the happiness of once more rejoining his beloved h- miJy ; deeply impressed with the divine goodness to- wards himself and them, during their absence from each other, and especially with the gracious inter- position of Providence in his behalf, which had rendered a state of extreme debility, induced by the climate of India, the occasion of his return to them several years «ooner than could otherwise have bees Expected. m PART V. CONCLUSION. f I H k t J rlHii J ■ Tub joy of Captmin Bum's reunion with his fa- mily was soon succeeded by an occasion of sor- row. " I had not been home," says he, " above a fortnight, before the Lord was pleased to make a breach in the family. My youngest child, a sweet, healthy boy, about two >ears and a quarter old, was playiiig with me in the garden, on the twenty-first of March; and the next day, after a few hours ill- ness, his little soul took its flight to heaven, and left his disconsolate parenU to mourn their loss." Shortly after Captain B.'s return to his ship, she was condemned as unfit for service, and or- dered to Chatham: which gave him another op- portunity of being with his family for several weeks. About the end of July, he was appointed to the command of a party of ninety men, including of- ficers, on board the Sampson; which joined Ad- ffiif al Parker's fleet a few days after the engagement 217 near tlii* Dogger lUnk, mui um thrn left Willi nf vi'rul otiit'r vcHscU cruiHiiig t)ti' tliu Text! to wutcli tlit> iiKilioiia o( tlur Diitdt. 'I'lu* tiiiplcaattiitiu'Ni of ihi.i Mtutioii wa» not coiii|K'ti>iut«--P;;7;4p„,en, help in ever, r::?::a O^'^'^^V-eofarea.^^^^^ r . H o lycan rejoice in tribulation: he only " •; Uh the heart in a sea of troubles: he only ^""T;^::Jtrue melody, ' O death, whereisthy :u:;rCve.-'>ere is thy victor, r O my Sa- 221 viour, give me grace to live constantly to thee ; that thus I may be happy in life, happy in death, and happy with thee for ever ! " August 16. I was yesterday, and I have been frequently in the course of this year, admitted a guest at the Lord's table. These feats liave all, I trust, been profitable, and some of them comfort- able. Yet I have to lament, that they have not been attended to with such contrition and earnest- ness of soul, neither has the sweet and useful im- pression of these banquets lasted so long, as in former years. 1 bhish to say, they have become a common thing. O my precious Christ ! forgive me, and give me grace to pjize these rich repasts more than ever ! " November 12. I bless God I still find an eager desire to press forward in the Christian course, though beset with a thousand obstacles in the way. I see safety, rest, and happiness, no where but in this way, and by the grace of God I am determined to persevere in it. Lord Jesus ! lead me on by thy power till thou hast brought me where thou art." Captain B. was now about to be visited with a severer affliction than he had ever before expe- rienced. The following passage describes his feel- ings under the painful apprehension. " January 6, 1785. This year began with a me- lancholy aspect. The Lord only knows how it will end ! My dear wife, w ho has long laboured under 2 complication of disorderg, seems to grow worse i^ 222 Mid worse; so that I now live in an agonizing state, between hope and fear. The Lord help ns both, and prepare her for his will, and help me to acquiesce in it !'* , ,. , At another time during this season of distress, he says : " In the midst of severe and overwhelm- ing trials, I find a sweet composure of soul m leaving all to the sovereignty of God. He can do nothing wrong;, and that is my consolation. Then why should 1 repine, though he afflicts me m the tenderest part, the wife of my bosom ? Even tins shall work for his glory; and, 1 trust, for the be- nefit of both her and me. This trial bears heavy upon me. O for more patience, and all shall be well !" , , . .. f^f Three days after Mrs. B.'s death he writes : Of all the trials I ever had to sustain, none is to be compared to what I have gone through for these three or four days past. My wife, in whom al my earthly happiness centered, suddenly taken from me ' O how hard, to say with the heart, Ihe wi of the Lord be done ! 1 am like one in despair; all nature seems clothed in sackcloth. Lord, help me in this hour of darkness !" It is one of those things which indicate the con- trol of infinite wisdom and goodness over human affairs, that violent emotions are seldom of ong continuance. In general the floods of grief which rise to the most alarming height soon subside withm xnoderate limits, and time gradually dnes up their sources. la the sorrow of Christian hearts for the 223 death of piouti relatives, this process is accelerated by reflections on the huppincss of the deceased, and anticipations of reunion in a better world. A little while after, Captain B. writes: " God be prr.ised ! the melancholy, despairing frame of mind which my In te loss had thrown nu; into, seeniii to be wearing oft". And happy for me that it is so; for, had it lasted in its first force much longer, I roust have sunk under it. — I still find God the h.earer and answerer of prayer, and this encourages me to persevere. Like a kind parent he ha^ always been near to succour me in my greatest conflicts. What a blessing to have such a God ! I should be the most miserable of all wretches if I had no access to the throne of grace. But my troubles and dis- tresses, however great, Heen, and heavy they may be, when brought there, lose all their force and bitterness." By reason of a variety of circumstances which need not be detailed. Captain B. discontinued his journal for more than five years ; but his pen was never more actively or usefully employed. De- sirous, after his own conversion, to strengthen his brethren, he diligently read several eniinent writers on the evidences of the Christian religion, and abstracted their most striking and popular argu- ments, to which he gave the form of dialogues be- tween two military ofticers. . Few persons, if any, were ever better qualified for so useful an undertaking. Experience and ob- servation had rendered the subject familiar and im- m 224 3 I' portant to him; and ihe ease, vivacity, and good humour, with which he habitually wrote, wer^ adapted to render such a work in his hands equally interesting and agreeable. When, however, >- had brought it nearly to a close, he laid it by fo. some years, from uncertainty how best to finish it. Be- coming acquainted at this juncture with two young military men, one of whom had been brought to re- ligious concern by means of conversation with the other, he introduced their history as a closmg dia- logue, and published the whole in 1789, under the appropriate title of « The Chu.stian Officer's Panoply: containing arguments in favour of Di- vine Revelation; by a Marine Officer." To a se- cond edition, published in 1806, he affixed his name ; substituting the words " Complete Armour" for " Panoply," as more intelligible. This performance, like many others of substan- tial merit, brought its author more credit than pe- cuniary profit, which would have oeen then pecu- liarly seasonable; but he enjoyed a higher reward, in knowing that his book answered its leading pur- pose. This was well described by the late Sir Richard Hill, in a recommendation which he pre- fixed to the work. " What appears to me to be the grand excellence in this little volume, and what therefore principally induces me to recommend it to others, is, that its grand aim and designs are not merely to furnish the head with irrefragable proof of the external evidence of our most holy religion, but to mstruct ana eaiiy luu uciwi, wj u.xx.g,.»£, 225 and good 3te, were ids equally er, *'»^ '»sid y foi some h it. Be- Iwo young ught to re- n with the ilosing dia- , under the Officer's our of Di- To a se- affixed his e Armour" of substau- dit than pe- then pecu- ler reward, eading pur- he late Sir ich he pro- ne to be the !, and what commend it igns are not gable proof 3ly religion. ttrinrvinCV tint truths of the gospel home to the conscience with life, power, and efficacy ; without which, all know- ledge would only tend to puff up ; light would be without heat; and the professor himself, instead of growing in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, would be barren and un- fruitful; destitute of that principle which alone can bring peace and comfort to his own sohI, or make him useful in promoting the salvation of others." That the immediate reception of Captain B.'s principal work was encouraging, might be inferred from his publication, during the same year, of a pamphlet somewhat similar both in its form and purport. This was entitled " Who Fares Best; the Christian or the Man of the World ? Or, The Advantages of a Life of real Piety above a Life of fashionable Dissipation. By a Marine Officer." The attractions of this lively dialogue being equal to those of Captain B.'s larger volume, and the perusal easier, it outstripped the former in popu- larity, and probably in extensive usefulness. It suc- ceeded in the immediate purpose which induced the author so soon to return to the press, which was to raise for a religious object some charitable as- sistance, which he could not otherwise have af- forded to impart. In 1792, it was reprinted, and again in 1810. It was not till 1791 that the author's diary was resumed. It commences, however, with a retro- spect, which, though very brief and wholly silent mrf i h ii v> m 226 h Ml hiB literary employments, lerves in olhtr re- ipects, to connect the chain of his history. « March 25, 1791.— Since 1786, I have the * greatest reason to bless God for giving me a partner for life, who has proved a source of real comfort and happiness to me under all the troubles of this uncertain state. IJe has also blessed us with four iine children, one of whom he has taken to him- •elf ; and though we are sometimes straitly put to it, yet we have never been without the necessaries and comforts of life. On the 1st of September, 1788, 1 was called in upon full pay to this divi- sion, where I continued ever since, daily expe- riencing fresh instances of God's kindness towards me. »> li. " When a dispute with Spain was likely to take place, last year, I was ordered on the recruiting service ; but so near quarters, Croydon in Surrey, that 1 easily managed thnt business without moving from home. But several captains, who were for sea duty before me, having then embarked, brought me to be one of the first to go in this fresh arma- ment against Russia. Accordingly I this morning embarked on board his majesty's ship Arrogant, Captain Harvey, who commanded the Sampson hst war when 1 left her in the year 1782." In this duty Captain B. spent nearly six months, but without going to sea, except from Chatham or Sheerness to Portsmouth, and back to Chatham ; where he disembarked with his party, and went into barracks on the «hip being paid oflF. 2^7 III May, 1792, Captain B. received aconimuni- catioii from the directors of the Sierra Leone com- pany, who offered to appoint him second in com- mand at ihuir new settlement on the coast of Africa. But the interests of his family forbad a relinquish- ment of the present advantages and future prospects of the marine service for any emolument which the directors could with propriety grant. He also dreaded the effects of the climate on his constitution, but he decUned, with great reluctance, a charge so congenial with his desire to promote religion and humanity. He published the same year, some tracts in favour of the abolition ef the Slave Trade, which has since been happily accomplished. About the same time he was appomted to the Assistance, in which he made a voyage to New- foundland. Just after his arrival at St. Jqhn's harbour, he completed the fiftieth year of his age. " September 8, 1792. I h^ve now lived half a century ; but how very little of that time has been truly devoted to God's glory ! I am constrained to acknowledge that I am a most unprofitable servant indeed ! Were it not for the atoning blood and per- fect righteousness of Christ, I should despau- of ever reaching heaven. But this is a strong tower, into which 1 trust I have been enabled to flee, and where I find myself perfectly secure : and the more I see and feel this security, the more I am enabled to live to the praise of God." Towards the end of the year, the Assistance re- turned from Newfoundiand, and in the following ri r I tJ -' r ra 228 spring went to Corunnn and Gibraltar. On hoth these voyages, ami especially the lust, Captain B. found a sea-faring life increasingly unfavonrahle to hifi htallh. Ife was afflicted with lowness of spirits, uneasy sleep, frightful dreams, iKJCturnal pcrsi>ira- tions, constant pain in his right sidr, and otlnr dis- tressing symptoms. Severe indisposition induced him, immediately on his return from Gihraltar, to apply to the Admiralty for leave of nbstnce for two months ; which he had no sooner obtaine*! than an order was given for the removal of all the marines from the Assistance to the Montague then on the point of sailing for the West Indies. This com- bination of events Captain B. considered as a re- markable interposition of Providence in his favour; , at once terminating his career of duty on board the Assistance, and saving him from the disagreeables and dangers of a West-Indian voyage, from which under existing circumstances, it was not probable he could live to return. In consequence of the precarious and languish- ing state of his health, his term of relaxation from duty was extended to four moirths, at the end of which he was again employed in the recruiting service. He was first stationed at Colchester ; but having spent a month there with scarcely any suc- cess, he was ordered to remove his station to Rochford. This removal was highly gratifying, as the situation of Rochford admitted of his passing most of his time at home, without neglecting the business confided J^Hiii'5' 229 to him ; in which he had the tiatiifartion of h<»inj( very siicceitsful, " Hendintr in more iiun to servo their country as marines, than any two officers iti the corps on the same st-rvice." Captain B. hud for some years felt " a strongf " desire to spend the remainder of his days in the " country, sechided from the bustle of the world." A principal reason for this wish was the hope of diminishing the expenses of his growing family, which he found great difficulty in supporting. About Michaelmas, 1794, he entered upon a smaH estate, situated two miles from Strood, consist- ing of a cottage and thirteen acres of meadow-land, of which he had taken a lease for fourteen years at twenly-fivc pounds a year. This measure, however, was far from accomplish- ing the expected improvement in his circumstances. The repairs required to render the house tit for the reception of his family, involved him in considerable expense, and he was too little acquainted with rural affairs and the arts of the world, to manage his little farm with any advantage. The distress of his inind under the increase of pecuniary difficulties, can only be conceived by those, who, with equal delicacy of feeling and integrity of principle, have laboured under similar embarrassments. There appeared no prospect of deliverance from these difficulties, unless the means should be afforded by the liberality of some opulent friend. No one occurred to his mind so likely to assist as the Earl of B — y, with whom he had formerly been intimate io 6 1 1 b r r 230 Fr»ncr, bul \vln>m he had not seen for the last twenty yoar« : und the long suspeiiHion of their ui- Urcour«e l«ft but little hopen of succcaa. To thii nobleman, however, with un aching heart and trem- bling hand, he ventured to write, Htating his necessi- tief and soliciting aid. The fifth day brought » letter from the earl, containing an order on Inn lord- ship's banker for one hundred pounds. The h»- tisfttction prcKluced by this donation b(.re a propor- tion to the anxiety which had preceded it. With the liveliest gratitude for the generonity of his noble friend. Captain H. did not forget his obligaiions to his Supremo Benefactor, but received this season- able supply as the answer of his heavenly Father to the many prayers for relief which had ascended from his troubled heart. About a week after, he says : " The great deliverance the Lord has just wrought for me by means of Lord B— 's generous present, has enabled me to close this year with joy.— I have now nearly paid it all away, that 1 might eiyoy th« satisfaction of saying, at the close of the year 1794, that I am out of debt.-^Methinks I shall never forget it, or doubt of the Lord's goodness any more : it was so seasonable, just ailequate to my wants, that the more I think of it, the more 1 see the love of God, and consequently enjoy a continual feast in praising hira." In the autumn of 1795, Captain B. was called in from the recruitnig service, in which he had spent about two yeprs ; and was ordered to hold himself ss readiness for sea-duty. After waiting some time, 2.31 he WM appointed to the Golmth, and embarked at Portamouth on the fi4th of March, I7y(j. At Portamouth Captain B. had the picaaure of an interview with Captain Jauiea Wilson, and of hearing from himaelf un account of his con- veraion by nieana of The Chn$tian Ojficer's Panoplif, Captain B.'a gratitude to God for this event wof combined witii humihty, which led him to regard it as an example of the declaration of the Scripture, that " God hath choaen the weak things of tht " world to confound the mighty *." • The account of Captain WlUoa't conveniioa jivea in tha flrst Edition of these memoirs, vol. ad, p. 94, was founded on the following extracts ; the first taken from Captain B.'s Journal, the other from the ap|>endi» to l>r. Haweit' Church History, vol. 3d. Since, however, that part of the memoirs was printed, the Rev. Mr. Griflin of Portsea has published an account of Captain Wilson's life, containing a more complete narrative of the circomstances which led to the Captain's conversion. By which it appears that the Christian Officer's Pnnoply, was by no means the exclusive instrument in effecting that important change. " April 1796. Last Monday I breakfasted with Captain Wilson, who u destined to rommand the vessel that is to carry out the Missionaries to Otaheite' and had an hours' romfortabla conversation with hiin ; while he related the very pleasing ac- count of his conversion eftecfed in a very striking nmuucr by sovereign grace through means of the Christian Ufflcer'n Panoply, which upsct his infidel principles, i)rought him to the Bihic and to Jesus Christ the Friond of sinners, where after a dark and painful night of true contrition, he found, and ivjoic u iu, a complete salvation ; O that the Lord would rlaily make roe thankful for his wondi-rful condescension in emplciyiiiEf such a worm as I to call in any of his chosen vessels. But such is bis h' 232 The Go.-ath sailca A^ith a convoy, first to Gib- raltar, then ta Corsica, and tl.ence to Leghorn. The following extract from a letter, written by Captain B. during the voyage to a military friend will convey an idea of the unfavourable situation ot a true Christian on board a man-of-war, and the great difficulties, in his religious course, he has to contend pleasure, to employ base aud weak things to confound the great aud wise." , ,,. From Dr. Haweis' Church History. u About two vears after Captain Wilson's settlement at Horndean. a book of Major Bum's, containing dialogues on the Christian's Warfare, :\ into his hands. A religious book written by a military mr excited his curiosity aud fixed h.s at- tention. Ashe read, the scales seemed to fall from h>s eye. and a new system of divine truth unfolded itself to h.s v,ew of which before he had not the least idea. He had heard noth.ng like it in India and his parish church which he attended at home, had furnished him with no such doctrines as Major Burn sug- gested ; at least his iuattention had never perceived any thing resembling what he r.ow read, as constituting the essence of a Christian's faith and practice. Religion had been a subject agreed to be waved with his n.ece (who kept his house) ; but he could not now help inquiring, if she knew any person in this country who held the same senti- ments as the Major inculcated. She soon resolved him, that he would find at Portsea many zealous advocates for them, and pressed him to go with her and hear the Rev. Mr. Griffin the „ext sabbath dav. He accordingly drove her down to Portsea from whence he was only nine miles distant, and was Relighted to find in Mr Griffin's preaching the perfect corre- spondence with those evangelical sentiments which he had read with so much pleasure, aud which the discourse of this exceUenl mas. fixed with deeper impressions ou his miad^ 233 with. — At the same time it displays Captain B.'s earnest desire to difi'usc the blessings of genuine Christianity. " Goliath, off Algiers,20 May, 1796. We expected before this time to have been at Corsica ; but calms, contrary winds, and slow sailing vessels, have almost exhausted our patience, and brought us no further than the North end of Sardinia. I am doubly anxi- ous to get into port, from the hope that some na- tional occurrences may turn the conversation of my messmates into a purer channel. Hitherto it has consisted of gross indecency and horrid blasphemy, and all my poor efforts to stop the noxious stream have been of no avail, yea rather at times have made my companions worse. And yet I know from ex- cessive timidity I have not been sufficiently faithful to them ; although now and then I have gone so far as to find it difficult to retreat without a quarrel. In short I find my situation among them in a religious view very uncomfortable ; in other respects they are very kind and obliging. We have two passengers who mess with the captain, a knight of Malta and one of the Corsican deputies, who presented the crown to our king. They are sensible, moral men, and much disgusted at the profligacy of our officers, frequently retiring from the deck when they hear them swear. They understand our language per- fectly, and have read my Christian Officer's Panoply, which I lent to them, and with which they seem highly pleased, particularly the Corsican, who is very uiixiQUs to know wnetiier he can get a copy o* 934 it in Italy ; as 1 have two with me, I intend to give him one. Who knows but some precious, immortal soul in Corsica may profit by it! I regret much our not staying a little longer in England, that 1 might have made arrangements about books; I could now dispose of them, where to all human ap- pearance they would be very serviceable. The troops, and many English families at Bastia and Ajaccio, would I think be glad of them." We will now give one passage from Captain B.'s journal written at Leghorn. "Junes, 1796. Yesterday a party having been formed to go to Pisa, I could not resist the temp- tation of being one of the company. The day was delightfully fine, the distance about twelve miles, through a most beautiful country, and the road as good as any about London. Arrived at Pisa, we en- gaged a domestique de place to shew us every thiug worth seeing. We were first introduced into the chapel of St. Stephen, just at the time they were performing mass at one of the side altars : but our guide, with all the unconcern imaginable, led us through the holy group, as they were kneeling, and crossing, and bowing to a bit of wafer ; pointing, as he led us up the steps of a silver altar, to the most striking paintings on the walls, which were indeed well worthy of notice. From this chapel, we went to the cathedral, a noble and ancient building, beautiful in the interior beyond any thing I ever paw ; particularly from the great number of the finest p9^um^ by the best Italian artists, the gild- 235 I li iiigs of the roof, and the painted windows. It is also famous for its brazen gates, cast utome hundred years ago at Jerusalem, and still in the highest perfection. They are indeed magnificent, ornamented from top to bottom by a number of square compartments, each containing a variety of figures, representing some Scripture history. From the cathedral we viewed the baptiser or dome, in which is a whisper- ing gallery nearly equal to thiit of St. Paul's. The font of marble, finely gilt and ornamented, is big enough for two or three people to swim in. The pulpit, of the purest alabaster carved in a masterly style, is an exquisitely fine piece of workmanship. From hence we went to the famous burial-place, surrounded by h large square building supported by pillars in the inside. The centre of the square is filled with sacred earth brought from Jerusalem, which we presumed to tread on, that we might have it to say we had been on the ground on which Jerusalem stood. The dead are interred in stone coffins, and under the marble pavement, between the pillars and the wall. The walls all around are ornamented by fresco paintings, now much tarnished and defaced by time ; those representing the re- surrection, and heaven, and hell, are the most strik- ing. A Protestant can hardly forbear smiling at seeing scarcely any one on the Saviour's right hand but the different orders of monks, popish saints, and a few crowned heads. God be praised! the church of Rome is not infallible. — But the most re- mnrkahle thinor to he seen %t Pisa is a tOWer 900 ^' 236 feet in height : the foundation having gTven way on one side*, probably soon afier it was built, makes it stand so much awry, that one would ihink the first puflf of wind would blow it down ; though it has now stood in that state some hundreds of years. We went U{) 293 steps lo the top, and from the gal'ery all round had one of the most beautiful views I ever beheld." From Leghorn they proccded to join the fleet, under the command of Sir John Jervis, then block- admg the port of Toulon. Though far from the sanctuary of God, and in a place where the sabbath received not even the external homage of a few hours intermission of accustomed iniquities, Captain B. knew what it was to enjoy a sabbath of the mind. " June 26, Sunday. I bless God, I can this day say from happy experience, It is good for me to wait upon the Lord 1 In the exercise of secret prayer, reading, and meditation, I have found that solid peace and heartfelt pleasure, to which I am sure my blaspheming companions around me have been utter strangers. But, O my soul ! remember that grace alone hath made the difference. Give God all the glory. • Mr. Tappen, iu his Professional Observations on the Architecture oi France and Italy, is, like Captain Burn, of opinion, that the deviation of 15 degrees from the vertical line, is occasioned by want of care in laying the foundatioB. Pa. 62—65. • 237 " Soptembor 11. Surely this lias been a com- fot table sabbutli-da)' to me. W iiliout the use of lliose ineuiiii that Christ's tnui followeis on shore enjoy, I have found he tan bless the soul that sin- cerely seeks his face. O the pleasure of having a covenant God to go to, under whose wings I may find shelter from all the impiety and blasphemy of wicked men who surround me! When I can escape from their profane society, retire to my cabin, shut the door, and address my heavenly Talher with a humble and holy boldness; the pleasure of such a scene is, beyond all expression, svvett and de^ ligh^ful. Lord, give me many such foretastes of glory." The approach of winter rendered it necessaiy for the fleet to leave Toulon. They sailed to Corsica, then to Gibraltar, then to Lisbon, and thence pro- ceeded on a cruise in hopes of falling in with the Spaniards. At lengtli, on the 14lh of February, 1797, tiie two flee s met olF Cape St. Vincent, and a victory over the Spaniards added fresh laurels to the navy of Britain. It would be foreign to our purpose to enter into the details or results of this engagement, any further than Captain B. was par- ticularly concerned. He ex|.ressed the gratitude of his heart to the Lord of hosts ; as a patriot and a soldier, for the triumph gained over the enemies of his country ,* and as a man, for his own preserva- tion amidst all the dangers of the fight. " God be praised! the battle is fought, the victory gained, and my wortldess life preserved * a 2S8 k 11 I In The Goliath had two three-deckers upon her at one time, and suffered much in masts, sails, and rigging ; but thank God ! had only eight men wounded. What shall I render to the God of all my mercies for hearing my prayer, giving me courage, and pro- tecting me in the day of battle !" For his active exertions in the momentous busmess of this day he was soon afterwards promoted. There are extant some patriotic poetical effusions he com- posed on occasion of this victory. After the engagement the British fleet went mto Lagos-bay to refit; and, as soon as they were m a condition to put to sea, proceeded with their prizes to T isbon. Here Captain Dunsmuire of the marmes was about to return home ; but preferred remaming in the fleet if he could prevail on some other captam to relinquish his command, and could obtain the admiraVs consent to the exchange. He accordingly „«de the proposal to Captain B. whose ill state of health was well known, and to whom such an ex- change mightthereforebesupposed to be acceptable. Capt^n B. objected that he wanted several months to complete his tour of sea duty, and, if he should go home as a passenger, would be liable to be sent to sea again before the expiration of the year. To remove this difliculty Captain D. proposed an apph- cation to the admiral, to endeavour to get Captam B. intoone of the Spanish prizes; by which he would ac- complish his wish to complete his tour of duty, and «ould be likely to arrive at home in the course of .TTii 4_:— .1 ^ntxi. tAf^A to thft man, the-jummer. ine adi»u«. -.-" r > 239 discharged Captain B. from Uie Goliath, and ai,- pointed him to the command of the marines on board the San Josef. After this removal Captain B. remained at Lisbon nearly six months, during which his health was much improved by " frequent excursions into the delight- ful country along the banks of the Tagus." His journal contains the following account of a Catholic procession. " June 15. Went ashore this morning to see the grand annual procession that is constantly exhibited at this season, called Corpus Christi, and attended by the royal family, the courts of justice, nobility, &c. &c. A monk, belonging to the monastery from which the procession was to set off, knew my companion, asked us in, gave us an elegant break- fast, and placed us at a front window, facing the large square of the Inquisition ; where we had a com- plete view of the whole ridiculous scene. There was first an image of St. George, the patron of the church, on horseback, attended by a young girl and his champion in armour, both on horseback, with six or eight led horses, superbly caparisoned, following them. Then came a string of thousan^a of priests, monks, and friars, in the dresses of their different orders, chaunting, and carrying each a large wax candle, above a yard long, and as thick as they could well grasp, lighted in the face of a bright mid- day sun. After them, lawyers, counsellors, judges bishops, and all the nobility of the court ; all with --0 '-'I'^t a, A liCM ajppiuu(;ucu u wnue wcirer. car- V t 240 rJcl in a gold c..p, by U.e pat.iar.l,, or f..« bi,l>op; ov.r«l.lch«u».ricl>.-mU...d..e.l.auopy,8u,.p«rua l,y ,lu. n,i„ce of Brazil, a.ul .I..' «r,t nol.ilily o I ■« cL.. A.U,capproa.l,ortl.H,avvl«l.WU.».o«!.>e «l,olo nu.ltitu.lc bowe.1 the k...H., and w.,r»l..ppea it „, the real body and blood of lUe prc.ion» Udcemer ,l,„t .licl for dinners. O my soul, sl..,.ld..r, and b.. ,l,a„kf,d that Go,l has not left thee to be gu.lty o such i,lolatrv.-At the co.ning out an.l returnms o Ihi, »ater-«.ade«od, the garrisons and «.. .tary bred a,.,,alsal...c;and,la,nsorry.osay,theLngl.sh „,en.of-v.ar in the Tagus, at the request o the queen of l>..r.ugal, did the sa,ne.-The only thn.g worth attention «as the rich..ess of the d.flercnt drtsses. The bat al..ne. which the image of bt. George w,.re. i, cstin.a,ed ^tjifl;/ tho,m,,d pom-h sterh.g. U.A any of .,ur London sharpers been there, they won d surely have had it w,th all U.e jewels it eo.rta...ed , for his squ,re was obliged to take >t oft Ins head ,vhen the Aorf passed.-Were it poss.ble to descr.be the antic motions of the priests this day, before the altar, and the gra...l patviareb, a Pro.esta..t would not (.elieve it. So deb.de.l .s fallen man. Lor.l, .need,ly deliver him from this delus.o.r^ The day that completed Capta.n B.'s fifty-hfth year witnessed bis departure from Lisbon. September 8. The Lord has preserved me o .ee a,.od.er birth-day. Blessed be h.s na.„e! He U my God S..11; a..d, as be has graciously pro- mise, to co,.t.n„e to be so to the e..d of t..„e and ■ ., u.. -„ n-ore. what have I to fesr ( when U.ne snail uv no i>.i-.-. 241 At present tlie prospect is bright and pleasant be- fore me. Karly in the morning we got under way for old England; where all that i. dear to mo on earth, I hope soon, with Im blessing, to see." In the passage home they encountered sorje of those dangers from which a seafaring Jife is seldom exempted; but through the goodness of a merciful Providence, they escaped them all, and at the end of four weeks were safely anchored at Plymouth, As soon as the San Josef was paid off. Captain B. proceeded to London, and on the 17th of No- vember bad the happiness of returning to his be- loved and affectionate family. Having been senior marine captain in the action with the Spaniards off Cape St. Vincent, soon after his return, he was, as we just suggested, ap- pointed to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel in the army, and was called upon to command the detach- ment of marines that attended his majesty in the procession to St. Paul's, on the day of public thanksgiving for that and other victories. These honours brought no pecuniary advantage, but were attended with an expense, which, tiiough not large, was more than his finances were in a situation to bear. The present state has no pleasures unaccom- panied with pain. The satisfaction of being at home was greatly diminished when he came to in- quire into the progress of his affairs during his absence. The expenses occasioned by a long ill- — "" '"^^ «ixiii,vcu xTjiis. i». una me losses M }li|Uiiii 242 S I which the person who h..l U.e.aro of W„ lit.le f»r,n h..i met with in farming ™d lra-li«R. '•'"' '■""•8»" „p„„ him « heavy load of debt, «hul. throw . gloomo.c. U.- .l««eofll.e year 17U7. Irom tliW period Captain B. no longer conlnn.ed his journal with hi« former reRularity. li.nii? for the mo»t pan .taiionary, ho had fewer incident, to record; and he con-milted hi, reflection, to wr.tmg ,„,eldom, thai between the date, of two ,ucce,„ve p,rauuph, we freqnently f.ml an interval oi ,everal month,. (Hn material, for the ren>an,.h.r of h.. history, therefore, lie ^idnn a ..nail ™mpa„. In April, 1798, a n,,jor in the Plymon.h div,- ,ion of marh,e, being reduced to half pay, Co- lonel B. »a, fixed npon a, successor. Welcoine a, this promotion was. t. incur the expense of re- moving his large fan.ily, and to be placed at,uch a distance from all bis old friends and connexions, court not but be contemplated as forming a considerable deduction from the pleasure and advantage. lo remain in die Chatham division was the object ol his desires and prayers, though at that time he could see no prospect of it, attainment. Wtthni ten day,, however, a vacancy happened m the Chatham division, and he was appomted to fill . . Thu, his wishes were accomplished beyond his ut- most expectations Hi, promotiou added £100 a year to hi, income, and exempted him from all sea- duty in future. . „ j- j „f in the ensuing autumn, Colonel B. disposed ol die lease of his cottage and farm, anU leiuoveanto 243 residence to Strood. In this place Colonel B. used his influence in promoting trin' irligion »niong»t his nnghbour. and townsmen, and his exertionn were uctompanifd will) .:on«idnal)lo succesH. Long will his memory be . heri.si.ed with reverence and affection amongnt a liftlr hand of Christians, with whom he ofUMi associated for the purpones of read- mg the Scriptures, prayer, and conversation on re- ligious topics; and many will have reason to bless God through eternity for his excellent advice and the holy example he set before them. In his private concerns nolhinjj: remarkable occurred for a consi- derable time after this. The following extracts ex- hibit the state of his udnd and his experience as a Christian on several occasions in the next and some followhig years. " January 1, 1799. After being tossed about the globe, from one side of it to the other, for these last forty years, I am now brought, by the kind hand of my heavenly Father, to a quiet and peaceable retreat in my old age ; delivered, I trust through his great goodness, from all future wander- ings on this earth. But surely my deceitful heart can never be so foolish as to entertain the thought for a moment that this is to be my rest. Blessed be the name of my God, and all thanks to his rich grace ! I liuve not so learned Christ and the pre- cious truths contained iu his word. In this world I never expect permanent rest; it is the abode of sin and misery: and therefore T dp«irp ;« *u^ - - — '—J IIS IIJC m2 *;* s ^ '■^ B 244 TxirdU .length, .«ill to *.it P«ti«nily for the .c- r .U 1..V.- tribuUuon; But I h«p« .nd .«- :: Ll.t«,uciou.p,o.....««aUU...u^.o|d «Uh..i.o««.H-ch«crmgp..c«:thenl.l..Hb.,ro. B„|y prepared for ih. wor.t th.t ...», come -Ut rim of the Lord be ..one! "'». «- j;-= -l^- .to«ed.it».Uhe.«fficicn,for...e,...dl.l.aUthe« "r;:!:::'::;! m.a.t>e.r«..cro»..ed „U.lJdb.e».«.g..und ended ^itho^.^^^^^^^^^^^^ -re:t::rrr:Ma.«ft,^^^^^^^ . ™i,ln.,r hiuhlv favoured »imier still, old. a poor tremblmg, i»i,'"y . „ ifst »av, vv'tl' " '""""'eriug voice, Lo.d, ^ho can i«^\''^ „„i,„,,,f . The near ap- ''"T:ih alf-d important pe.,od,. hen I ""r;-,: aJe to ti„.e, and launch into an eternal ",?.'« me .ometime, startle ».th n.ex- world, nukes m .^^^ ^^_^^^^„_ ,,essihle dismay, or .^^^^^^^^^ ""Tri- y '.•''es m, »i....e fra- .Not p„vea ""*; j^;j„„ „f , aonbt respecting the that 1 '-« '■" ,^ ,r"„,„„,,, nor altogether that I ,l„,i„us truths of the gosp ^ ^^^^ ^^^^^ doubt of my mleres ma .a ^^_^^^ >"-"-r':rZr i: tt hare shade, of a 245 possibility of my not being happy in it, makes m« dread to launch into it. Lord, increaie my faith ! The folloiiving letter, written at thin period, will beautifully didpluy Colonel B.'s desire to promote the iipiritual welfare o( his children; it is addressed to his eldest daughter, and was accompanied with a Bible. St rood, Dec. 14, 1801. My dear Rachel, In sending you so valuablo a gift as a Bible, you will naturally expect my parental advice to ac- company it. If the prayers of an affectionate fa- ther can prevail, you will find it one of the richest presents you ever received. Above forty years ago niy grandfather gave me a Bible, which 1 still pre> serve, out of which, through rich grace, [ have en- joyed more exalted and refined pleasure than all the pomp and grandeur of a vain world could ever boast of : I have found present and effectual relief in the hour of deepest distress, and consola- tions of a heavenly nature far beyond the power of human language to express. I only wish my dear Rachel may enjoy as much real benefit from the one I now send her. Read it with reverence and at- tention, as the word and will of the most high God ;— pray over it, and wrestle hard till you ob- tain a blessing from it: — 'tis a mine full of the richest jewels, and God's people sometimes dig deep before they get at them, but never pray in Vaiii. 246 li It gave your mother and me great pleasure to see gome dawnings of a serious concern upon your mind before you left Strood; but still greater when we heard that concern was increased at Plymouth, and likely to issue in a true conversion and thorough devotedness to God.— O that we may not be dis- appointed in the pleasing prospect we have con- cerning you! for nothing in this world can give equal pleasure to that which a godly parent feels when he sees his children called by divine grace to the kuowlenge of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of sin- ners. O take care, my dear Rachel, that you do not quench the Spirit of grace, by imbibing too much of the spirit of the world : they never did, never can, nor ever will, agree together. Form no close connexion with any female friend that is not more spiritual than yourself. Seek to be much with those who talk about divine thmgs ;— cherish the means of grace, and pray daily for a lowly, humble, gentle, and affable spirit, that the dear re- latively with whom yon now are, may rejoice to see that grace has made a happy change in the whole of your deportment. A form of godliness will not effect this, but the power of it felt in the heart will —and do you nevei rest contented till you feel and enjoy this power :-'tis an awful and dangerous thing to rest short of it. # # * * « April 1 1, 1802. This morning I found much freedom at the throne of grace, in earnest supplica- tion for a blessing on the minister, the congregu- '-^m^' 247 tion, and my own soul; and, all glory to a prayer Indeed hear- ited. I fully ing God! I was not disappouit expected it ; for whenever I find my mind unusually drawn out in fervent wrestlings with God for any filing, 1 always set that request down uS a lltiiig al- ready granted. I have not enjoyed such a sabbath for many months. Surely the tears that flowed with so much pleasure were but the sweet effusions of a happy heart, confident of its interest in the finished work of the Lord Jesus Christ. O that I could enjoy more of his love, and live wholly to his glory, till he shall be pleased to call me home to himself ! " September 8. ro-day I finish my threescore years. Will my foolish heart still say they may be threescore and ten ? Perhaps I may never see another birth-day. The one is as likely to happen as the other. But God has fixed the day of my de- parture hence ; and my wiSdom is, to be constantly living in the daily expectation of its approach. Lord, help me to do so!" Notwithstanding the rigid economy with which Colonel B.'s domestic concerns had been uniformly conducted, yet the expenses of his numerous fa- mily, whose wants were continually increasing, ex- ceeded his income, and unavoidably involved him in debts, which he had no present means of dis- charging. The amount of these debts at the be- ginnincr of the year 1803, was about sixty pounds. Tli^s chcumstance, which he felt and deplored as a neavy amicnon, renaered nun very desirous ot tu- li 1: mmia 1}' 248 r. It i '1 ture promotion; and about this time he had some hopes of attaining it. But the retirement solicited by an officer above him not being granted, all pro- spect of immediate promotion was at an end. The disappointment seemed to increase the pressure under which he laboured : liis only hoj>e was in the mercy of his heavenly Father. To him he com- mitted all his cares, praying that he would grant re- lief in his own way. The same week his prayers were answered. « February 14, 1803. Last week, just as my heart was poring over the disappointment I met with in my expected promotion, and anticipatmg all the miseries of accumulating debt, a dear friend of mine, in the military profession, called upon me; and taking me aside into a private room, made me promise I would ask him no ques- tions : which when I had done, with some he- sitation—he put a bank note into my hand, saying, he was desired to give it me, but with the strongest injunctions never to divulge whence it came. I put it in my pocket without looking at it, repeatedly thankmg him and my generous benefactor for the very acceptable present. Dinner being upon the table, we went in, sat down and dined : my mind all the while occupied about which of my creditors I should pay off first, imagining I had perhaps a ten or tzventi/ pound note, which I longed to look at, but was ashamed to do it before my friend. Soon after dinner I took an opportunity to step out of the iooir * ' satisfy my anxious curiosity. But 249 oh ! how was my h^art filled with grateful emotions when I found two notes, one oi Jive and the other of a hundred pounds ; a present of one hundred guineas! To attempt a description of my feelini^js at this time, would be in vain : those who have ex- perienced the overflowings of a grateful h<;art can only guess at them. I was so overcome wiih a view of the Lord's goodness, that 1 knew not how to express myself, and was afraid my friend would think me insensible of the favour bestowed. When he was gone, and I had communicated the purport of his visit to Mrs. B. we both wept, and in broken accents, with eyes and hearts directed to Heaven, expressed our obligation to the God of all our mercies, for this seasonable and ample supply, in answer to our united and repeated prayers. — I have now enjoyed the pleasure of paying all my debts, of contributing to the relief of others, and of pur- chasing many articles absolutely necessary in the family. O how good the Lord has been to us, un- worthy as we are of the least of all his mercies!" Interesting and edifying as we are persuaded this relation will be, to all readers of sensibility and piety; we shall not be surprised, if some, who acknowledge the truth of Christianity in general, charge Colonel B. with presumption in concluding, and us with credulity in admitting the conclusion, that this and many other occurrences in his life were answers of Providence to his prayers. They will inquire, perhaps, how the prayers of an indi- ,!.;« kio />li^et.t ran influence the operation of -:j m3 !! r 250 *i I - natural causes, or the volitions and actions of oth«r moral agents ; or how his prayers can be answered consistently with the general laws by which divine Providence governs the world. — To such persons we reply, that we neither pretend, nor expect, to find solutions for all the questions which curiosity may suggest, on this or any other subject. We would remind them, that the system of nature pre- sents mysteries as impenetrable to human sagacity as those of providence and grace. And to deny the efficacy of prayer because we cannot explain the precise nature of its influence in the divine ad- ministration, is as absurd, as it would be, to make our inability to discover the causes of certain phe- nomena, a plea for withholding our assent to some of the most useful truths of natural science. The conclusion here supposed to be disputed, appears to us to be supported by sufficient strength of moral evidence for the satisfaction of any inquiring mind. To adopt the language of a writer never, we be- lieve, charged with enthusiasm ; — " If we admit " the truth of revelation, the evidence which it de- « livers of the special interposition of God, in the ** physical and moral government of the world, " must be deemed decisive. Instead, therefore, of " involving ourselves in the mazes of metaphysical *^ subtlety, let us direct our attention to the founda- « tion of that intercourse with the Deity, which is *' at once the most interesting duty, and the noblest " privilege of our nature. We are taught that " he who CQmeih to God, must believe thai He -is, 251 u u " and that He is a rewarder of them who diligently ** seek Him ; that //* Him we live, and move, and " have our being : that as a father pitieth his child- *' Ten, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him: ** that // we, being evil, know fmv to give good gifts " to our children, hozv much more shall our Father, " which is in heaven, give good things to them that " ask Him'? For this thing, says St. Paul, I be- sought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me : and our Saviour is recorded to have prayed " the third time, sayin^^, the same words, O! my " Father, if it be possil c, let this cup pass frjm " me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt. " Indeed the form of devotion, which Christ re- " commended to his disciples, affords the clearest " proof that he regarded prayer as acceptable, <« and efficacious. — A pious Christian will look up, with humble confidence, for ease under suffering, for protection in danger, and consolation in sorrow. " And he -Tiay reasonably presume, that such filial dependence will be indulgently accepted by his heavenly Father, who is characterized as being ever ready to bind up the broken in heart ; to heal « the wounded in spirit; and to give good gifts to « them that worthily ask // z." The principle of true jvicty which divine grace had implanted in the heart .f Colonel B. would not allow him to be an unconcerned spectator of any thing pussiii^ around him, that would affect the moral and religious interests of his fellow-men. The societies formed by good men Oi various com- n it (t tt tt 252 1 1 fh 1 I .i munions for the evan'^elization of tho world, inte- rested all his Christian feelings, and called forth his most fervent wishes and constant prayers. Nor was he content with approving of their objects and praying for the ^.access of their efforts : he felt an ambition to be hhnself a labourer in the same noble cause, and to contribute by all the means in his power towards the promotion of the plans of Chris- tian benevolence. Among other institutions the Religious Tract Society appears to have attracted his particular attention. He added one to the num- ber of their tracts : it is written in a very plain and familiar style, well adapted to the class of readers for whose use it was designed : the title is—" Two « Dialogues between a Coupokal and a « Private Soldier. Written by a Lieu- « tenant-Colonel of the Army." Humble as this little production may be deemed, according to the gradations of literary merit, it has received an honour to which many elaborate theological works may in vain aspire. At a subsquent annual meeting of that society, its friends were gratihed with the information that this tract had been emi- nently useful to a poor soldier ; who by the divme blessing on its perusal had been reclaimed from his sinful courses, made acquainted with the way of salvation, and brought to walk in the paths of righteousness. If this should be the only mstauce of spiritual benefit ever derived from a perusal of these dialogues, it was a rich reward for the author. 1 -^ . i-_ u»»»J fUo rolntinn nf the CU'- So he esteemea ii; wc Kcoi« -,1^ -- — - 253 cuinstaiice with emotions which were expressed in tears of joy more forcihie than any words. To be the writer of a tract wliich converts one sinner from the error ofhisTiaj/, and thus saves a soul from the second death, confers a name as far above every name of literary distinction, as heaven is superior to earth, or eternity to time. But we return to the journal : — " September 1. Within the last three months greater and more unexpected changes have taken place in my situation, than at any former period ; and, what loudly calls for the warmest gratitude, they are all favourable, undeserving as I am of so much kind attention from the hands of a gracious God, who constrains me by his goodness to call him mi/ God and Father. — A great promotion of field-officers being expected in June, which would of course make me a lieutenant-colonel in the corps; I applied to all my friends at the Admiralty to get me appointed to Chatham ; and they assured me it should be done. But, to my great surprise, when the promotion came out, I was appointed to Plymouth. This seemed to plunge me into many difficulties and great expense ; but I was not left to murmur long : for next day an order came for six field-officers, from Plymouth division only, to su- peniUcnd the recruiting districts ; and I, being a senior officer at that division, of course was one of the number. Now 1 saw clearly the goodness of God in sending me to I 'lymouth contrary to my m 254 pmyers; for, if he had not, 1 >houU not have got thi, appointment, which M» a gnineu a day to my pay with travellit.g expenses; and il he should .pare me to enjoy it any time, it «lll be tl,e mean, of extricating me from all pecuniary en.barrass- „e„ts.-On the Ist of June, an order came tor me to repair to Cambiidge, as inspectmg field- officer in that district ; taking under my command th. recrnifug officers in Suffolk, Norfolk, North- amptonshire, Uedfordshire, Huntingdonshire, Cam- bridgeshnc, and Rutland. On the 4lh, 1 Mi home and went to London: where having soon settled money matters with the paymaster, 1 arrived next day at this place (Cambridge), a perfect stronger to every creature in It. About the m.d.He of August, I removed my famdy from Strood , Living with great difficulty procured a house m Cambridge, where we now comfortably reside.- The loss sustahied in parting with our furniture at Strood, the expense of travelling, and the greater expense of furnishing an empty house, have thrown us considerably behind-hand; but if the Lord ,s pleased to spare us and keep u, any time here, „ith his blessing we shall get above all incuni- brances. But, O my soul! rest not content with these temporal blessings. Look higher, and give all diligence to obtain a full assurance of interest in the great and tiuished work of the Lord Jesus Christ This, and this only, can make happy m time, in death, -and to all eternity.-I can have but 2&5 very few more days to live on earth. O my God and Saviour! may they be blessed with a full as- surance of faith unto the end, that 1 shall spend an eternity with thee in heaven. •' December 3 1 . This year has to me been full of wonders and striking displays of divine provi- dence, ft began with one of a most acceptable nature, and is now closing with another. — The first lord of the admiralty, in a very unexpected man- ner, has put the five senior officers, at the head of the corps, on the retired list, and promoted five others in their room ; which just brings me in to be second colonel-commandant, and, to my great joy, once more placed at Chatham, before I knew any thing of the promotion. — In all probability I shall in a few days lose my lucrative employ at Cam- bridge, and remove to one much less so ; but as it is a permanent situation, and far preferable to what I enjoyed when last at Chatham, I ought to be truly thankful for it; especially as, in case of my dying first, my widow will now be entitled to eighty pounds annually. We had just formed an agree- able acquaintance at Cambridge; and, without rightly considering the uncertainty of all earthly en- joyments, were promising ourselves a gr t deal of satisfaction among them. But these and other de- lightful things, however rational to expect, are en- tirely fled with the fleeting year. Lord, give me more permanent enjoyments in a better world, for Christ's sake!" ilariy m the next year vyOioncI 13, removed to his IW '1 • , i ■ 1 i t 266 new oppointmcnt at Chatham. The expcn«€» of two ri..u)v»ls, lo»i.r« by lv.o -ale* of turuiture, and fu.i.i<>hing two houMtH, withni s.x .nonth-, m- volved I in. in new .Ubls; wh.th, though ih.y did not nuuh fxo'fdn hiiiuind pounds, yet fornud a constant diuxM.J'ck on all hiM roniiortH. He endea- voured to console himself with a reflection worthy of a Christian; resolving all mto the divine allot- ments, and confiding for the future in the divine jroodness. " God will not sufter us to be rich in this world's good; but surely, from the last years experience, we ought never to doubt of his readi- ness to supply our every want."-When we state, that up to this period, the sixty-second year of his age, his income had nut amounted to tuo hundred and sixty pounds a year, it cannot fail of exciting the surprise of every reader, how, with a family ot ten children, the strictest economy could have avoided much greater incumbrances.— A few pas- sages from his journal will complete the account of the year 1804. « About the latter end of June I was taken very ill with It slow fever, total loss of appetite, violent perspirations, and cough : in a few days I was re- duced so low as to have a horse to carry me to the barracks. But the Lord heard prayer, and has once more restored me to my wonted health ; and, 1 trust has enabled me to say. It was good for me to be afflicted. A throne of grace has been more prized, and the world greatly diminished in value. May my heart be made truly thankful ! I .it. 257 ■■5i!l " October 11. On peruning my journals about thirty years ago, I <'ni(l grrat cause, to lament the losM of that active zeal and w irmth of aflfection which I then seemed to possess. The breathings of my soul aftir the divine presence were surely more ardent than they have been of late years ; and the eiyoyments of a Redeemer's love were more frequent, and surpassed any thing that I now ex- perience. How is this?. Is it not owing to indif- ference, a slothful walk, and a worldly spirit? Alas! why should the world thus engross the atten- tion and affections when we are just leaving it ? O Lord! restore to me the joys of thy salvation; and make me truly thankful that I have not wholly de- parted from thee, as many others have done. Thy grace alone has kept me from falling. O let my declining days be favoured with the tokens of thy love, that I may finish my course with joy ! " December 31. The greatest part of this year I have enjoyed ease, tolerable health, my family, friends, the means of grace, and a thousand other blessings.— Blessed be the Lord! he still .spares me, and enables me to trust in his goodness, which I know I shall experience, as I have in times past.— O that I could live more devoted to his glory ! In the summer of 1805, Colonel B. was called to part with one of his infant children, " a sweet little girl," he says, " of two years and three months old. She had so entwined herself about my heart, ir*r1 that separation pruvcu bitter lavt _0 thfi nrc— h!i V. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 1^ 1.4 2.2 1.6 V] <^ /] ^. /^ *> .>' /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 ■,v :^ w^ i/l 258 ^Pw"*!: cious word of God ! I love it more than ever. Life and immortality are brought to light by the gospel. There is the immateriality and immorta- Jity of the soul fully demonstrated. If it were not so, where is the use of moral rectitude ? What need was there for a Saviour f He does not deliver his followers from the evils of this life : and if there be' no hereafter, why did he bleed and die? All the perfections of the unchangeable I AM are engaged to secure the immortality of his redeemed." Colonel B.'s affection for his children was that of a Christian parent ; not limited to their condition in the present life, but regarding their highest in- terests as heirs of an iiumortal existence. The evi- dences of piety which some of them exhibited could not but afford him the most exquisite pleasure. " December, 1805. Last Friday my two eldest daughters were received into the church of Christ under the pastoral care of the Rev. Mr. Slatterie, and yesterday were admitted, for the first time, to the Lord's table; where 1 have every reason to be- lieve they were welcome guests, as being savingly united by faith to Christ their living head. — O the consolation flowing from such a scene as this! What a mercy, to behold two, so dear to me, snatched from destruction, and preparing for eternal bliss ! O that 1 could be sufficiently thankful ! Lord, accept my feeble praise ; and uphold them and me from falling; and let my other children also and favour in thy sight ! 259 The same lively gratitude to his God, and pious aflfection for his children, appears in the following extracts of letters written to one of his sons. " Of all the pleasures, joys, and gratifications that ever I eiyojed, none ever gave me so much delight as when I had good reason to conclude that your two sisters and yourself were savingly united to Jesus Christ. The more 1 think of it, the more 1 stand astonished at the Lord's goodness, and re- joice in his amazing love. When I am overwhelmed and perplexed with domestic cares, goaded with foreboding, unbelieving fears, and pecuniary em- barrassments, I look, with gratitude to Heaven, on my converted children, and instantly the whole of my troubles vanish, and my happy heart cheerfully sings, AlVs well, Chatham, Oct. 22, 1806. My dear Andrew, Your two last letters were received by us all with that inexpressible joy and delight, which hearts renewed by grace alone can conceive. Tears of grateful thanksgiving to the God of all our mercies, ceased not to flow when we read them ; and daily and fervent supplication continues to ascend from the family altar, that you may stand firm unto the end of your days, in that blessed profession you have made of being on the Lord's «^ide. We trust we are not deceived in the pleasing hope we entertain, that the Saviour hath now called you with a holy and an eflfectual calling, to shew 260 I; I 11* 3 i forth the glory of his grace, while he is pleased to continue you in this world. But do not imagine, my dear Andrew, you are to pass through it, without many things to make you halt and to discourage you. Difficulties, trials> and temptations, from various quarters you must expect; 'tis the road marked out by the Saviour for all his followers. — Bear it constantly in mind, that however inconsistently some professors of religion may walk, and whatever number it may be your lot to see fall back, still the word of God stands sure, divine truth is unchangeably the same, — the Lord knoweth them that are His, and they shall endure unto the end. — 2 Tim. 2, 19. I hope I need not now admonish you to pay A constant attention to every branch of learning, hu- man and divine ; for the grace of God, I am con- fident, will always lead its happy possessors to di- ligence and activity. — 'Tis not an indolent but an operative principle. — That it may shine bright in you, and your dear brothers and sisters, shall be my daily prayer. # # * * For several years after his appointment to the second command at Chatham, Colonel B.'s life was very little diversified by any external occur- rences. As his days increased, he found his health and strength gradually decline; and some serious attacks of illness, especially in the winter seasons, from which however it pleased God to restore him. 261 On the 20tli of April, 1808, he writes: " From the easy, uniform, uninteresting life, which I am now ct^llerl in Pmvidence to lead, seldom any thing oc- curs sufficiently important to be recorded : and the feelings of my mind, in a religious point of view, being much the same from one end of the month to the other, I feel but little desire to commit my Christian experience to writing. Added to this, a painful habit of indolence creeping upon me with old age, will probably make the future relation of my experience very short indeed." This period of his life was not, however, spent in vain; his diligence in promoting Sunday Schools and every other good work was not abated by the infirmities of age ; whilst the consistent example i f Christian piety which he exhibited, his affectionate concern for the spiritual welfare of others, and his edifying conversation, were very uf jful in confirm- ing the minds of several young Christians, with whom he became acquainted, in the faith and hope of the gospel. The following letters written to youthful friends will not be uninteresting: Chatham, June 19, 1808. My dear Mary, If I have not fulfilled my promise so soon as perhaps you may have expected, or rather as my regard for you ought to have prompted mj to ; you must not for that imagine 1 have been all v\ I' .t' '■I 262 this time unmindful of you. Quite the reverse :'you and your dear family have not a day been forgotten by me at a throne of mercy ; and if my poor ad- dresses there are of any avail, you will largely enjoy every necessary help and assistance to carry you safe through all the intricate and dangerous scenes of a sinful and ensnaring world, till sovereign grace has landed you safe in glory. Christian affection is a very different thing from that which goes by the name of love, esteem, or friendship, in a carnal world: it is of divine extraction, cannot be eradicated from its happy possessor ; is of eternal duration, and the infallible criterion by which the followers of the Lamb are distinguished from others: for the Saviour himself says, 'tis by this they shall be known to belong to Him; and it is this heavenly bond, my dear Mary, that unites you and me and all the elect of God to their dear Head, the Lord Jesus Christ. A 11 other ties are of an earthly and transitory nature, frequently broken in time, by a mere trifle, and sure to be entirely dissolved at death; but this outlives death: and when this dreaded and last enemy shall be destroyed, the Christian's love to his God and Saviour, and to all that bear his image, will rise to rapturous heights, beyond all human comprehension, and constitute his happiness to all eternity. May it be your daily prayer and mine, that the love of a dear Redeemer (the sole cause of ours) may be abundantly shed abroad in both our hearts, that from this divine and I 203 powerful principle we niu) be enabled to live wholly to His glory ! I have now been an unworthy, stumblin},^, weather- beaten pilgrim in the Lord's ways for upwards of forty years, and from long experience shall take the liberty to give you a littl<> advice. In all your journey through life make the Lord and IJis Word your daily counsellor. A thousand little perplexing things will occur, which you may be ashamed to mention to your dearest friend, which you may with all freedom unbosom to your heavenly Father at a throne of grac<>, and be sure of obtaining redress in one way or other. It is this divine intercourse con- stantly kept up, that conslitutes the Chrisliun's " heu- ven upon earth." A number of incidents will arise to interrupt this divine comn. union, but that must not discourage you ; every eflort i.>ust be used to overcome them, k numbering that having enrolled yourself as a soldier of Jesus Christ, you must, in His strength, vigorously fight your way through, and never rest salisfied till a sweet and soul-gratify- ing familiarity is again renewed between you and the dear Redeemer; for his favour is better than life. My daily prayer shall be that you may in- crease in faith, and in the saving knowledge of Christ, that you may have joy and peace in be- lieving. I am still in hope it may be the Lord's will to remove us a little nearer G ; but should it not, we have a sure word of promise that where r 'I i '? Ii 264 1 our dear Head is, there we ere long shall be also ; let this suffice. Accept of kind love from all here, and believe me, m ith genuine affection, Yours sincerely in our beloved Saviour, Andrew Burn. Gibraltar-place f Ot^24, 1808. My very dear Friend, I ought to be ashamed of my negli- gent and indolent conduct in not writing to you be- fore now : but if I thought you could for a moment indulge thfi idea that I had either slighted or for- gotten you, I should be very unhappy. No, my dear S , I was prejudiced in your favour before I saw you, and the first interview confirmed that prejudice, and every succeeding visit has increased my esteem and affection for you. I no longer con- sider you as an acquaintance, but as one of my own family; a son in whom I can confide, and to whom 1 can unbosom my whole soul. If I have not written as I ought to have done, you must attribute it to age and infirmity, the na- tural parents of indolence and ease ; besides I have of late been very much engaged, and my mind al- most wholly occupied with things of a very import- ant nature both in spirituals and temporals. My constitution I feel declines rapidly, the two last winters had nearly upset it, and 1 have reason to expect the conflict will be doubtful in this ; you 265 may of course easily imagine that while I am look- ing over the brink of time into an awful eternity, I may not be so very punctual in writing even to my dearest friend; besides when future prospects have not so entirely engrossed my attention, I have of late been continually harassed with dom stic em- barrassments, and disappointments, in what F ex- pected would remove them. It may be the l]ord's Hill to spare me a few years longer, and he may increase my income sooner than 1 expect : but still, as neither of these is certain, and as the former may be denied me, it is very natural to conclude, that the •olemn thought of dissolution, will swallow up the consideration of every lesser object. Had I the triun.phant faith of a Paul, I should not be so often reproached as 1 am, of carrying about me a silent thoughtful counttneiicc; but here I faultcr and though 1 have committed my soul, and its tternal welfare, into the sunte Almighty hands that he did, and nm sure the J.ord Jesus will keep it safe to the day of His second glorious appearing ; yet the thoughts, and piospcct, and awful import- ance, of eternity, come with such weight to my mind, that I stand between hope and fear, trembling nnd shivering on the brink, afraid to launch away. All this is the effect of little faith, or rather unbe- lief. The apostles' pra^^er to their divine JSJaster, is niine from morning to night—" Uul, iucrea.c inu faith:' ^ * * * # #• # ♦ ^ ? N 260 'i Hi i About Midnummer, 1808, there was iome rei- son to expect a promotion among the senior officert of the corps ; which would include Colonel B. and make a considerabU- addition to his income. This prospect inspired him with the hope of speedy re- lief from the pecuniary difficulties under which he still laboured; and he felt not a little anxiety for its accomplishment. " It i« not," said he, " an am- bition to rise, I hope, that makes me wish for pro- motion, but aq anxious desire to be in a way to pay my just debts." But the expected promo- tion did not take place. He refers to the dis- appointment in his reflections on his next birth- day. ** September 8, 1808. To-day I complete my sixty-sixth year. Let me forget my late disappoint- ment, and turn to the bright side of my lot, and contemplate what the Lord has done for me above thousands around mc— I am the only one left of a numerous family, and have attained to a greater age, I believe, than either of my pa.ents. Is not this a mercy? Why should 1 be thus distinguished, per- Diittcd to live so long on the earth ; enjoying, as I now do, a tolerable state of health?— The Lord has blessed me with an affectionate wife, with whom 1 walk comfortably in the narrow path to glory. He hath given us a numerous family of children ; somq are in heaven, and ten are still living: the four eldest I have every reason to conclude, are child- ren of God by adoption and grace. Where is the 207 \ iome ret- ior oflicert in«l B. ainl me. This Hpeeiiy re- r which he xiety for its J, " an am- ish for pro- \ a way to ted proino- to tljc dis- next birth- oinplete my I disappoint- my lot, and or me above )ne left of a I greater age, is not this a ruished, per- "joying, as I .'he Lord has with whom 1 o glory. He lildren; somq ing: the four de, are child- Where is the family in these towna, lo highly favoured an mine f — Do I enjoy a good hope through grace, full of a glorious iunnortality, and can I be over-sol icitous about the trash of this world f Lord ! wean me from earth which I must shortly leave ; and draw my attention and aft'ections towards heavenly ob- jects, that I may live more to thy glory, and be ready, at thy call, to enter into that rest which I humbly trust thou hast prepared even for worthiest me. O for more of that faith which worketh by love and overcome th the world ! Then would my heart be filled with joy and peace in believing, and the God of all my mercies be glorified." The disappointment which Co! inel B. cxpc- rienced in not obtaining promotion when he had rea- son to expect it, served to heighten tlie pleasure of the acquisition when it was unexpectedly conferred upon him. Before the end of the year the co- lonel-commandant at Woolwich was dismbsed upon half-pay, and Colonel B. was appointed to succeed him. " November 10, 1808. This day I am ordered by the Admiralty to take the command of the Wool- wich division. Thus hath the Lord, in his own good time and way, provided the means of my get- ting clear of all pecuniary embarrassments, should it be his blessed will to spare me a little longer : for, though I must be at great expense in removing, and much greater in my present situation as com- manding-officer ; yet my pay being much greater tiio» v^xvfVy 3, uio&c u\f uuuui um r»iUi V7UUS OleSi- inpf, I ihall be able to pay nil my debU in tlie coufW of twelve or fourteen inoiiths. Colonel IJ entered v^ithout del«y on his n«w conininnd, and us ttoon ns lie could procure a auit- Rble house, removed all hii family to \VooK\ir.h. There, in the regular dincUarge of hin ofliciul tliitici, he panHcd day after day and monUi after month, with no greater variety of incidtjnt than he had expe- rienced at Chatham; but by a deportment equally becoming a soldit r and a Christian, ensuring tlic re- spect and winning the alTettion of all around him. «* June (], IHOD. Nothing of any consociuence in my situation has occurred lately, but ample cau-e for gratitude and piaise to the God of all my mercies, for the blessings I enjoy as head of u fa- mily, and as having under mc a number of officers and men, who, I have reason to believe, are per- fectly satisfied with my conduct towards them. I had an instance of this yesterday, in celebrating the king's birth-day, when some tokens of respect and honour were shewn me, which I had no reason to expect. 1 have always endeavoured to make them happy, by granting every indulgence the service would admit of: and they seem to be sensible of it. «' December 3 1 . One year after another glides on, and every day brings nearer that awful period when time with me will be no more. 1 think of it day and night; and it has in some measure the happy effect to deaden my attachment to the pre- sent world and all its perishing enjoyments : but still I cannot get my soul to look forward w ith holy a6» i*HI>cctu(iuii, ID UN to wUh for tkatli, rather than ilruad it. Hut tliiM is tlie gift of iiot\, aiui wliiits 1 cotitiiiiit!! pruying tor it, I will wait {lutifiiMy on his sovfrciKii pltsusuri;; well assured liu will do that which will ti'iid iriost to Wt» own glory uiid my good. Even so. AiiH'ii. ♦* Ffhruury '28, 1810. The lust and present months huve been, as usual, months of sicknessi puin, and debility : yet I have reason to bh'ss God, that though my poor, crazy frame is much shat- tered by thusti ainiual shocks, it still holds to- gether, and I am able to execute the duties of tho station where God in his mercy hath placed nie. iiut 1 cannot expect to do this long: every winter brings me nearer the closing scene. May the Lord in in»»rcy prfpfir#» nu» for it' " May. Like the flowers, that now gather vigour from the beams of the sun, my broken con- stitution gathers daily strength as the summer ud- vanceii. O that I could improve the life thus spared !" The following letters, written during this year, the first to his daughter Christianai and the next to his son-in-law, are introduced in order to unfold more fully to the reader the state of General B.'s mind. IVooizvkhfTth June, 1810. Mv dear Christiana, I am now an old man at the close nf inv race, standing on the brink of the sruve, look- it con IHH grace j ^^^^^^^^^^^HHl^^HiL^'' 270 ing with solemn awe into tlie boundless prospects of an eternal world ; and you are just entering upon one, fallacious, delusive, and transitory. I have hitherto passed through it safe (thank God !), and of couri^e am qualified, from long experience, and as a parent and friend, to give you some salutary advice, faithful warning, and seasonable instruction, to guide you safe (through divine assistance) to the end of your joarney. I would not have you, for a moment, in- dulge the thought that you will live to my age ; there's a thousand to one against you for this. But let the journey through life be curtailed or prolonged, an end must come at last; and what will then be most desirable when death is just ready to strike the irrever- sible blow ? Surely, whatever that is, it ought to be sought after and secured ahov© all other things. And nothing but a well-grounded hope of an interest in Jesus Christ, can then be of any use to support the sinking soul : all other props will surely fail.— Let me then, my dear Christiana, earnestly beseech you, with that anxious solicitude which an affec- tionate father alone can feel, to seek first of all the kingdom of heaven and its righteousness, and the lip of eternal truth hath promised that every thing else needful for your journey through life will be granted : not perhaps what you may wish or expect, but what infinite wisdom shall deem best for your real welfare. Were I to preach to you for years, I could give you no better advice than the above, for it contains every thing. If once, through sovereign you become united to Jesus Christ as the 271 prospects ering upon '. I have d !), and of Q, and as a ary advice, n, to guide end of your loment, in* ige ; there's But let the >longed, an en be most the irrever- )ught to be ner things. ' an interest to support irely fail. — tly beseech li an affec- first of all ess, and the every thing life will be ih or expect f st for your for years, I e above, for ph sovereign hrist as the alone Saviour of perishing sinners, your salvation it secure. Trials, difficulties, temptations, fears, and doubts, you will encounter ; but his grace is pro- mised to be sufficient for you, and to make you fiiore than conqueror over them all. I would fain hope, from what I have seen and heard, that the Spirit of the Lord has been at work ion your mind. O beware of resisting his gracious intlueni^es, and cherish every desire that tends heaven- T^ard. — Be much in secret prayer for direction from above, and embrace every opportunity of instructing yourself in the knowledge of divine things; and never forget that you are but a pilgrim and stranger in this world, travelling post-haste to an eternal state.— My prayers for your present and eternal welfare shall never be wanting. »* * * * ^ # * That the Lord may bless my dear Christiana with His saving grace, is the fervent prayer of Your affectionate father, Andrew Burn. Woolwich, \^th Dec. 1810. My dear Son, I have talked of you, thought of you, and daily prayed for you, since you left us ; but after many fruitless attempts, have never been able till now, to take up the pen to write. There was a* time when this was not the case ; when youth was in its full vigour (as it is with you) writing was a pleasure ; but now it is a task, which old age trembles 272 to undertake. My dear son, accept the advice which this idea now suggests, and while the powers of body and mind are vigorous, let them all be zealously em- ployed to glorify your heavenly Father, as the time maj/ come, when like me, you will have no power to do, what you anxiously wish to perform. As your, and our beloved Sarah, loses no oppor^ tunity of writing to you, of course she gives you all the family news ; therefore a repetition from me would be rather stale, and you must be satisfied with what comes uppermost in my shallow brain. I have been very ill since you went away, so much so, as to be obliged to give up the command of the division for nearly three weeks; but, thank God! I now enjoy a good state of health. During my illness ] heard, and thought, and lead, a great deal about preparation for death, but after questioning my soul very closely on this subject, the only answer I could get was, that, if not prepared to die nearly forty years ago, I was not prepared now. The next question of course was, what was that preparation ? The answer, a full dependence on the precious atoning blood, and perfect righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ. This was my preparation then, is now, and I trust will be when I die ; for I know of none like to it. But still 1 think there is another pre- paration necessary, to make death welcome, and to be desired. A complete deadness to the world, with all its most attracting enjoyments, and a clear view of our personal interest in a Kedeemer's love, entitling us to all the glories of a future world. 273 Without thi.s, death may sometimes put on a very ugly face, even to a true believer. You and I, I trust through rich sovereign mercy, are possessed of the first preparation, which is by far the best ; but let us not be satisfied till we attain the other also, and be enabled to say with Paul, " I long to be dis- " solved to be with Christ, which is far better than ** lemainiug in this sinful polluted world." I frequently accompany you in thought to your cabin, and on the quarter-deck of the Ville de Paris, and could almost imagine I see and hear all that passes there : judging from what formerly passed in my own experience, when in similar situations, you will find them not to be so barren of real spiritual comfort, as some people imagine, and at times I hope real Bethels to your soul. It will require great wisdom, and much grace (which God I trust will give you), so to act among your superiors, as not to give oftbnce, by an austere over-scrupulous conduct ; at the same time taking care not to grieve the Spirit of God, or wound your own conscience, by an unwarrantable compliance with any of their foolish and vain customs. # * # # # # * On the 25th of July, 1810, Colonel B. obtained the rank of major-general in the army ; a promo- tion not attended with any additional emolument. But whatever gratification he may have derived from this honour, was far exceeded by the satisfaction he enjoyed in the discharge of all his pecuniary obli- gations, which had long been au object of hii n3 ,:|! P' m '> I y 274 II- t*' Im 1^ strenuous exertions and fervent prayers, and which he was enabled to accomplish in the course of this year. In the autumn he had a severe fit of ilhiess, his recoveiy from v.hich he regarded as a merciful dis- pensation of Providence towards his numerous and young family, which on their account demanded his peculiar gratitude. In reference to his feelings and views under ihis visitation of the Almighty, he says ; *' In these trying moments tlie soul is called upon to prepare for death ; but, if it has not been prepared before, it has chosen the very worst period to think of such a vast concern. Who can reflect with com- posure, when pain torments the body and fever de- presses the spirits ? If I was not prepared to die nearly forty years ago, I never shall be. Then my only hope and sole dependence was on Jesus Christ and his finished salvation, his atoning blood and perfect righteousness: and so it is at this mo- ment; and so I hope it will be when God shall be pleased to call me hence. — If he is pleased to smile upon me, a poor sinner, in my dying moments, I will bless his name : if not, I will cling to the rock of ages, the Lord Jesus Christ.'* General B.'s reflections on the commencement of the next year cannot be perused without touching the finer sympathies of every feeling heart. ** January 1, 1811. Heart and flesh begin to fail, and I can no longer enter into active life as I used to do. The grasshopper is a burden, and an nidotont, drow«y habit, daily increases upon me. If 276 the spirit at any time is willing the flesh is always weak and backward. I try to think on heaven and eternal things, praying daily that I may long to be with Jesus ; but after all, I cannot wholly overcome the dread of dissolution. Lord Jesus ! increase my faith, and give me grace to trust in thee when I come to grapple with death." In the spring of 1812, General Bum wrote and published a small pamphlet, entitled the " Resur- rection OF THE Two Witnesses, exhidited IN THE Formation and Great Success of THE British and Foreign Bible Society i BEING A Paraphrase of the Eleventh Chapter of the Revelation. In a Letter to a Friend." The following quotation from the Pamphlet will explain the circumstances which led to its composition, and the hypothesis it was in- tended to establish. The theory he has advanced is not new, having been originally advanced by Baron Napier, the inventor of Logarithms, in 1588. It had, however, for many years been disregarded ; and the General, to whom it was, in fact, a novel interpretation, thought the circumstances of the present times tended much to confirm it. " My dear friend, — On the 22d of February last, I attended a meeting at the Green Man, on Black- heath, for the purpose of forming an auxiliary Bible Society, in aid of the British and Foreign Bible So- ciety in London. The business lasted about three or four hours, and, during the whole of that time, I never in my life enjoyed such a rich feast of men- i> I' 3 276 w. 14 tal delight. The unanimity, and cordial liarmony of sentiment of the whole assembly ; the zeal, glow of affection, and strength of argument, in the various speeches delivered ; the genuine piety, and bene- volence of heart, expressed by all ; with the clear statements, great success, and comprehensive views, of the Parent Society, so overwhelmed me, that I never can forget the ravishing impression it made on my feelings. Ruminating afterwards on the exten- sive plans this society has formed, and in a great measure already accomplished, of sending the Word of divine Truth to all the nations upon earth, 1 could not refrain from saying to myself, ' Is not this an era in the Christian dispensation, that has never been equalled since the apostles' days ? And is there nothing in the word of God, that seems to point to tlii_s very remarkable period r' This brought to my recollection what passed in con- versation with a friend of mine (now a general officer in the service) at the commencement of the French Revolution; a similar thought struck us both, and we began to search Ihe book of Revelation, where we conceived something like it foretold, in the nth chapter and 13th verse, alluding to the falling of the tenth part of the antichristian city, but were sreatly perplexed to discover what could be meant by the Two Witnesses, said to prophesy foi so many years in sackcloth, to be slain, and after- wards raised to great repute, and more extensive usefulness. Having consulted all the com- mentators and expositors within our reach, who 277 have written on llic subject, without any sutisructory t'viilence uf a genuine explunution, it was suggested by one of us, that pcrliaps they might mean the Old and New Testament. This led us again to search the Scriptures, und comparing our hypulhcsis with what is related in this chapter, we found it to agree so much more exactly with the sucred text than any other we had heard of, that we immediately adopted it ; and I have never yet had occasion to alter my opinion ; but rather, since the formation of the British and Foreign Bible Society, have been more confirmed in it. This, my dear friend, is the mysterious subject I wish to lay before you." t The profits of this pamphlet were devoted to the funds of the Blackheath Auxiliary Bible Society. After its publication, two years passed without any incident thought worthy of being recorded. Amidst all his infirmities of body and anxieties of mhid, however. General B. appears, with growing years, to have been growing in grace, and quietly waiting for his dismission from the present state and introduction to the blissful presence of his God and Saviour. On the 8th of September, 1813, he says : — " AVho could have thought some years ago, that I should live to the age of seventy-one, at which I arrive this day. It is true I am not well ; nor have I been so for some time : but I bless God, his chastising rod has been sanctified to me ; I have seen the necessity of it, and felt the salutary effects •.I 1 -t Tj^u- \ i'_ :..j 4.- J !_• II nas prouuceut xiw juuius juugiucuis uuu ms 278 xi. mercies have been truly and equally bleiiicd to mc. O that 1 had a heart truly sensible of so much un- merited goodness ! Lord ! grant it." The last event mentioned in General B.'s journal is his retirement from all military duty. " May 10, 1814. The Board of Admiralty, on the prospect of a long continued peace, being de- termined to reduce a great part of the Uoyal Marine corps, have begun with the head ; and ordered ;:he four senior officers to retire on their full pay ; de- priving them of all their emoluments ; which to me, commanding this division, is a loss of full three hundred pounds a year." In consequence of this diminution of income, the General found it expedient to quit Woolwich, where he had resided nearly five years. In the course of a fortnight he met with a suitable house at Gillingham (a pleasing village, near Chatham), which he took, and to which he removed with his family early in the month of July following. This was a situation where he could eiyoy com- plete retirement, and was, therefore, well suited to preparation for the solemn period when he was to remove from the seen into the unseen world. To this period he had been looking forward for several years, with all the anxiety and deep seriousness which its importance demands from every rational being. Owing to a considerable degree of deafness in his later years, which prevented his distinctly koormn t\\^ aiikif>rta nf ronvprsfltinn. hp hfcavntt 579 liabitiiaHy lilcnt :— came daily more evident from hin abounding in Chri»tian love and charity : his heart waa purged from every party feeling which could alienate hit affectioni from ('hristianv who ditfcred from hiiu iii matters of leuer moment. The language of St« Paul wta vas the subject of those fervent supplications. 291 grew worse, and on Friday the fever increased, and the cough became so violent, that all hopes of his recovery were abandoned, and he himself felt that his end was drawing nigh.— The severity of the dis- ease entirely prevented any continued atleation to heavenly objects, and all the dear sufferer could do was to pray aloud for patience, and a spet dy re- moval to his eternal rest. He at one time ex- pressed a desire that, if it were God's will, he might die on the sabbath morning, and spend that holy day in the worship of heaven. The disorder continued unabated throughout Saturday, and, after a night of extreme suffering, he ceased coughing about nine o'clock on the morning of Sunday, the 18th September. His friends saw that the sym- ptoms of death were upon him, and he was asked if he wished to see any one in particular; he replied, with much emphasis, « Nobodj/, nobodj/, but Jesus Christ : Christ crucified is the stay of my poor soul." — These were the last words he uttered • and at half past nine he gently breathed his last; according to his desire and prayer, worshipping that sabbath in heaven !— Thither may all his children and surviving friends follow him ! Thither may every reader of this narrative be induced to bend his steps, with unwearied zeal and perseverance I On the succeeding Thursday morning the corpse was interred in the church-yard of St. Margaret's, Rochester : and a tablet, with the following inscrip- tion, is placed over his eravfi -. — .4, $' Sbntxtti to ibt iVtemocs Of MAJOR-GENERAL ANDREW BURN. Bom September 8th, 1742, at Dundee, iu Fifeahire : Died September I9th, 1814, at Cillingham, in this Countj/. Fifty-three Years he served hiH King and Country AS A BRAVE AND IIONOURADLE OFFICER in the Cmps of Royal Marines ; Forty-three Years he served his God, as a faithful Soldier o/JEsts Christ. — Consistent and conscientious In the Discharge of every personal and relative Duty : HE WAS UNIFORMLY Affectionate as a Husband and a Parent^ Kind as a Master., Exemplary as an Officer y Constant and sympathizing as a Friend, Humble and devout as a Christian : EVER ASCRIBING All he was in this Life, AND All he hoped to be in the next, TO THE GRACE OF GOD IN CHRIST. Printed by W. WincheBlcr and Son, 61, Strand. BURN. ^ iff shire : m, in this Country ICER )d, ive Duty 'cnt, Officery nd, T.