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MEMOIRS 
 
 or 
 
 THE tlFE OF THE LATE '^ 
 
 OF THE 
 
 KOYAL MARINES; 
 <^OLLECTEBmQM ms JOURNALS. 
 
 '" WITH 
 
 I COPIOUS EXTRACTO 
 
 FROM HIS 
 
 Principal Works on Religious Subjects, 
 VOL. I. 
 
 EonDTon: 
 
 I'RINTED AND SOLD BY 
 MESSRS. W. WINCHESTER AND SON, 6l, 8TRANB. 
 
 1815. 
 
27771 -'^/(ja^A(^/:, 
 
 7 
 
 3-5 
 
 n 
 
 S4 
 hi 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 It will naturally be expected that we, who have 
 recommended the publication of the foUowing 
 sheets, should precede them by some account of 
 the motives by which we have been actuated, as 
 well as by a sketch of our own views of the character 
 of the revered friend whose Memoirs are now laid 
 before the world. Pursuant to this probable ex- 
 pectation, a few prefatory observations are here 
 given. 
 
 We had long known that our excellent friend 
 was in the habit of keeping a diary, in 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 
 
 ^ (h (T) 
 
.VI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 bitten meditations had been canied; nor did we 
 know explicifjy, that more was inrended by keeping 
 such a journal, than to furnish awistance to himself 
 in his habitual practice of self-examination, or per- 
 haps to promote the religious progress of his chil- 
 dren, by enabling them to trace the long and diver- 
 sified course of their venerable parent. On being 
 requested by his amiable family to examine the 
 manuscripts whicl he had left, we found that they 
 were very methodical, and extended to at least two 
 thousand pages: that they comprehended ample 
 materials for sketching Memoirs of his Life both as 
 an Officer and as a Christian : that it had long been 
 his intention that such Memoirs should be published 
 for the benefit of his family after 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 life into the narrative form. 
 
 What was thus prepared for the press by him- 
 self, will be found (with a few verbal alterations) 
 in the first one hundred and sixty pages of the first 
 
PREFAOB. 
 
 VII 
 
 volume. It is written with so much of the author's 
 characteristic simplicity, and is so replete with inte- 
 jr«8ting incident and instructive observation, that 
 we cannot but deeply regret that his present ex- 
 istence was terminated before he had completed 
 the task he had assigned hunself. 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 valuable, and saw that there 
 only was required to prepare it for the public eye, 
 a num of enlarged understanding, occasionally exer- 
 cised in literary pursuits, of delicate feelings, and 
 of decided piety, ready to devote his time and his 
 judgment to the selection and compression of the 
 most striking particulars contained in the manu- 
 scripts. To such a person \e have been happily 
 directed. A gentleman well known among literary 
 men, as weU as in what is denominated « the reli- 
 « gious world," a man of talents, discretion, and 
 piety; fitted m every respect for the performance 
 he has undertaken, except, perhaps, some disadvan- 
 tages may have arisen from his not being personally 
 acquainted with the excellent individual whose 
 
m 
 
 PRBPAClt.. 
 
 papers have been sujbjected to his iiMpection and 
 reviaion. To compensate for these disadvantegca. 
 (whether real or ideal), he liberelly consented to. 
 subject Am manuscripts and selections to the cx», 
 minationof Gbneral Bu»n's family and friends, 
 simply 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, ac- 
 companied with the grateftil acknowledgme«t» of 
 tlie General's family, for the generous and delicate 
 manner in which die numerous subscribers to the 
 publication have manifested their exalted estimate 
 of his exemplary character, and with their fervent 
 prayers that the work may be productive of much 
 religious benefit. By whatever mixed motives m 
 may have been actuated in promoting this publica- 
 tion, we can without hesitation aver that their 
 sole 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 bright example, to nm an equally 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 
 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 difficulty in forming a correct judgment 
 after they have finished the perusal of these volumes, 
 it is by no means necessary that we should attempt 
 a complete outline in this place : nor, indeed, do 
 any of us feel qualified for the undertaking, if it 
 were necessary. To depict the undeviating recti- 
 tude of his conduct, the unshaken constancy of his 
 friendship, the unwearied activity of his benevolence, 
 the invariable warmth of his affections, the untar- 
 nished purity of his habits, the unabating fervour of 
 his piety, would require no common pencil. We 
 shall here do ndthing more than refer, and that, we 
 are conscious very inadequately, to a few particular 
 excellencies, which they who intimately knew the 
 General could not fail to notice. 
 
 And first, he was sincere and free from all dis- 
 guise. He was not a man of promise, but of per- 
 
 a5 
 
* PREFACE. 
 
 formance. Tliere needed not a window through 
 which to look into his heart; for all his best senti- 
 ments and feelings were written on his countenance. 
 Allowing for the effects of a little constitutional 
 reserve, heightened somewhat in the later portions 
 of hfe by deafness, a stranger would know the 
 General as well after he had been an hour m his 
 society, as he would after he had enjoyed his ac- 
 quaintance for a year. He had no objects but to 
 glorify God, and promote the happiness of his fel- 
 low creatures : and these, as he felt neither ashamed 
 nor proud of them, he neither attempted pusil- 
 lanimously to conceal, nor ostentatiously to display. 
 Where he saw, or thought he saw, a friend in serious 
 error, either in point of sentiment, or of action, he 
 would frankly suggest his apprehensions, 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 
 
PR£FACE. 
 
 SU 
 
 assuming diflferent manners or principles before 
 different persons, or 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 him aiming earnestly at 
 an object which was ijot likely to promote the best 
 interests either of himself or of others), his ap- 
 proaches towards it would be direct and above 
 ground ; though they would be more or less slow 
 according as judgment or discretion regulated the 
 rate of advance. « He walked before God," and 
 the world, " in truth, and in righteousness, in up- 
 " rightness and integrity of heart." 
 
 His benevoleme was a prominent feature. Here 
 we do not speak of the frequent meltings of his mild 
 and gentle nature after his heart was subdued by 
 divine grace, and the way in which they prompted 
 him to alleviate the sufferings of others ; but chiefly 
 of that exercise of Christian 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 
 
^ 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 abundance, either in almsgiving, or in more deliberate 
 and continuous exertions, are entitled to commenda* 
 tion, and will, if they act from suitable motives, 
 " receive a reward" of a higher kind : but how much 
 more cogent and operative must be the spring of action, 
 when the habit of benevolence cannot possibly be 
 evinced, but by a rigid adherence to habits of eco' 
 nomy ! In the instance we are now contemplating, 
 a large family was to be reared upon very slender 
 means, such as if we were to specify them, would 
 by many be pronounced totally inadequate to the 
 purpose; and yet, such was the attention to fru- 
 gality, such the determination io 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 histrumental in diffusing benefits 
 and blessings than General Burn, who could 
 scarcely be said, till near the close of life, to enjoy 
 a competence. 
 
 SeJf'denial was uniformly an ingredient in the 
 benevolence of this excellent man. It was mani- 
 fested in iiis voluntarily depriving himself of much 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XUl 
 
 which scarcely any but him would regard as super- 
 fluities, that he might relieve the temporal wants 
 of others : and in surrendering (what was to him of 
 more value than property) 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 was 
 a warm friend to schools for the indigent. To 
 Sunday Schools, especially, he gave both his in- 
 fluence and his time. Even at an advanced age, he 
 engaged very actively in teaching and catechising 
 the children of a large Sunday School, formed en- 
 tirely by the exertions of himself and fomily, and 
 for no inconsiderable period instructed by them 
 almost solely. By giving his personal 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 be- 
 came more than usually important, he was to sa- 
 crifice them, provided he had but the prospect of 
 shewmg to the young and inexperienced « t/te waif 
 
XIV 
 
 I^REFACE. 
 
 " in which they should go," of rescuing them from 
 ignorance and vice, and stimulating them to true 
 knowledge 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 him- 
 self to no such reprehension: on the contrary, 
 numbers Jelt both corporeally and spiritually that 
 fie had life, numbers who cheerfully testify their 
 obligations to him, and " call him blessed." 
 
 ^1 
 
 Our valued friend also furnished a fine example 
 of genuine candour. Like other men of reflection 
 and inquiry, he had on most important points made a 
 deliberate decision, and, in reference to those of 
 less importance, had his preferences. But he never 
 expressed himself either censoriously or con- 
 temptuously, of those who by conscientious investi- 
 gation had been led to diflferent conclusions; nor 
 did he ever withhold the right " hand of fe'lowship," 
 except from such as had " wandered from the 
 " faitn ' in reference to fundamentals. Having re- 
 ceived his early religious instruction from his grand- 
 father, a pious clergyman of the church of Scotland, 
 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 »f 
 
 he was led to prefer the manner of conducting wor- 
 ship 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 that case he apprehended the minister of the gospel 
 would 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 circumstance with great delight • 
 though, durhig the period that his sou hesitated, 
 this exemplary parent attempted neither to suggest 
 difficulties nor to remove them; neither directly 
 
3EV1 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 nor indirectly did he influence his judgment or bias 
 his decision. Hence, also, it was his frequent and 
 fervent prayer for years, that pious clergymen might 
 be placed by divine Providence in our large gar- 
 rison 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 minutes choked his utterance. 
 
 I 
 
 If, however, on the topic of church government 
 he might slide habitually into what some, even in 
 the present day of liberal sentiment, will denominate 
 indifference ; this could not with any shadow of pro- 
 priety be imputed to him in reference to " modes 
 " of feith." He was, we believe, nearly through 
 the whole of his religious life, a decided Calvinist. 
 Yet he never approximated towards that modifica- 
 tion of sentiment, in which an exclusive attachment 
 to doctrinal speculation leaves no room to trace 
 practical tendencies ; nor that, in which the doctrine 
 of divine decrees is so grossly stated as nearly to 
 
PUBVACB. 
 
 XVll 
 
 extinguuih the idea of human accouiitability. His 
 notions were rather those maintained by Calvin in 
 his " Commentaries" (when age and reflection had 
 tempered his judgment), than some which are ad- 
 vanced in his " Institutes:** nor did they ever 
 tempt him, firmly as he held them, and much as he 
 valued them, to exclude from the pale of salvation, 
 any who relied ahm on the atonement and righteous- 
 ness of 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 tw<^ 
 
xv'tii 
 
 PftEFACfi. 
 
 u 
 
 tt 
 
 it 
 
 tt 
 
 it 
 
 tt 
 
 tt 
 
 tt 
 
 tt 
 
 tt 
 
 hundred persons. They have various preachers, 
 some of them very acceptable, and as far as I 
 have heard yet, very orthodox. Their weekly 
 prayer-meeting is well conducted, and well at- 
 tended; and here I hope the Lord will bless us. 
 We have taken a pew; but have not imbibed 
 any of their sentiments contrary to what we have 
 all along professed ; though, as far as I can per- 
 ceive, the difference between us lies more in words 
 than any thing else." 
 
 A man who could thus express himself on th< 
 points at issue between the Arminians and the Cal- 
 vinists, was not likely to indulge in disputation. And 
 here we conceive lay one of his peculiar excellencies. 
 He loved the society of men of intellect, and still 
 more, 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 mo- 
 ment there was evinced a desire to triumph, or an 
 intemperate tenaciousness about mere matters of 
 opinion respecting which Christians are divided, he 
 would usually sit back in his chair and remain silent. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 xix 
 
 He was far too wise to expect to make converts to 
 his own opinions by cursory, still less, by angry, 
 disputation ; and far too humble to conclude that 
 they who did not in all respects think as he did, 
 were, therefore, wrong. He taught his sentiments 
 not by disputing about them, but by exhibiting 
 their influence on his manners and his conduct; 
 and many were the proselytes who were thus won 
 over to true religion. 
 
 But as it would be endless to attempt the deve- 
 lopement of his individual excellencies, we shall say 
 a few words on that which lay at the foundation of 
 the whole,— his devotional spirit. He cheerfully dis- 
 charged his professional duties, he enjoyed free in- 
 tercourse with his friends, he delighted to be sur- 
 rounded by his family; but neither professional 
 duties, friends, nor family, were permitted so to 
 engross his attention, as to prevent his frequent 
 communion with God. No sooner had he yielded 
 to the solicitations of the Spirit, than he devoted 
 himself in earnest to the public and private duties 
 of religion. And neither did he suffer the ardent 
 
XX 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 passions 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 
 ^hich for more than forty years he was enabled to 
 persevere. Convinced as he had been by painful 
 experience, during his residence in France, where 
 he indulged in infidel speculations and practices, of 
 the weakness and depravity of the human heart, he 
 no sooner tasted the benefits of genuine conversion 
 than he resolved to correct vicious habits and extir- 
 pate 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 se- 
 lected fi-om 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, al- 
 though reflection on the irreligion ofea,!y life oc- 
 casioned many a pang, and the heart-probing ex- 
 ercises of self-examination might cause him to mourn 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XXI 
 
 in secret, his Christian graces brightened, and his 
 " path was as the shining light which shineth more 
 " and more unto the perfect day." They who had 
 tiie happiness of enjoying his acquaintance, in the 
 evening of life especially, could not but see how, 
 through the influences of the Spirit which he con- 
 stantly sought, and the cleansing efficacy of the 
 blood of Christ, on which he firmly relied, he was 
 daily increasing in meetness for the celestial king- 
 dom. They could not but notice the admirable 
 and invariable consistency of his conduct with bis 
 principles, the uniform cheerfulness which he 
 evinced (except during his periodical attacks of 
 nervous fever), the constancy of his resignation to 
 the Divine will in seasons of trial, the depth of his 
 humility, and the tender susceptibility with which 
 he made the concerns of others his own, " rejoicing 
 « mth them that rejoiced, and weeping with them 
 " that wept ;" nor could they avoid imputing these 
 to their sole cause, the blessing of God upon that 
 « fervent prayer" which, emanating from true 
 faith, through the intercession of Christ, « availeth 
 much." 
 
XXtl 
 
 FREFACE. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the gravity, solemnity, and 
 fervency, with which the General engaged m do- 
 mestic and social worship. Every tone and every 
 look indicated how deeply the heart was engaged in 
 the exercise; and so often did spiritual mercies 
 upon his fomily and friends seem vouchsafed in 
 answer to his petitions, that scarcely any but the most 
 thoughtless or the most obdurate could join in the 
 devotions of this excellent man without being im- 
 pelled to exclaim « Surely 'tis good to be here ;" 
 " this is none other but the house of God, and the 
 " gate of heaven r* 
 
 On these and kindred topics it would be easy to 
 expatiate : but looking to the space already occu- 
 pied we refrain. 
 
 Persuaded as we are that the contemplation of 
 so bright an example of Christian purity, humility, 
 and piety, is calculated to be eminently useful; that 
 while the history of a part of his early life may serve 
 as a beacon to youth, that of the remaining portion 
 may furnish an interesting pattern of heavenly- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XXIU 
 
 mindedness and sincere dedication to God, to men 
 in the meridian and decline of life; we rejoice that 
 we have been in any shape instrumental in bringing 
 these Memoirs of General Burn, before the 
 Public ; and fervently pray that they may be proijuc- 
 tive of much and lasting good. 
 
 ■ ■ ^ ■ -nil 
 
 Olinthus Gregory. 
 J. Handfield. 
 John Dyer. 
 
 October, 1815. 
 
ERRATA IN VOL. t 
 
 Page 4, note, for Astruther read Dundee. 
 40,lme SI, for /Rcei read jnec««. 
 63. % for immediat read immediate. 
 
 99, 85, for d'ardmr read tPardeur. 
 132, 14, for T7te read T^fje. 
 
 31 , for mind so read mtTuf was so. 
 183, 13, for I securely read /was securely. 
 134, SO, for Mis read A». 
 
 155, 7, for antf read and J, 
 
 156, 5, omit /. 
 
 166, 19, for these read there. 
 
 167, 15, for knew read Anow. 
 
 176, 33, for possible. He who read possible he whf. 
 
 348, last line, omit liver. 
 
 355, 36, for contributes read confn&H^«. 
 
 S79, 5, for sma^/ read sm«//. 
 
MEMOIRS, 
 
 ^c. Sfc, 
 
 riT has long been a common observation 
 with Christians, that» among the .great 
 number of pious books which daily teem 
 from ^hepress,few ornoneareperused with 
 more pleasure and profit, by the religious 
 world, than those which give agenuine and 
 incQQtestable proof of the power of divine 
 grace in the conversion of ^ sinner;, ,from 
 the (>oJlution8 of corrupt nature to a holy 
 ncMne^s of life in Christ Jesus ; or which 
 beautifully and comfortably illustrate the 
 more than fatherly care and infinite pity 
 of the Almighty, in his various and won- 
 derful providential dealings with some of 
 Ims fa^VQured people. If, from what I 
 have ejxperienced myself, I may be al- 
 lowed to answer for others, I frankly con- 
 
2 The Author's Reasons for 
 
 fess I have reaped more real benefit, and 
 enjoyed more soul-purifying pleasure, in 
 reading the Life of Colonel Gardiner, 
 Hervey, or Newton, than from the stu- 
 dious perusal of • a whole body of doc- 
 trinal divinity ; and have received more 
 solid comfort from one hour's spiritual 
 conversation with some experienced and 
 humble child of God, than ever 1 did from 
 long and learned disputes on contested 
 points of theology. 
 
 This prevailing consideration, as already 
 mentioned, 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 increasing the Chris- 
 tian's biographical library. 
 
 I am well aware, that some who may 
 peruse this Narrative will be disappointed 
 fit not finding so much of the marvellous 
 in it, as perhaps they expected 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 re- 
 
wfiHng \hese Memoirs. 
 
 B 
 
 tnarkable 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 watch- 
 ing the footsteps of Providence in commoii 
 incidents; which are sometimes big Mith 
 future designs of the highest importance, 
 and are always fraught with rich displays 
 of their dear Redeemer's love. While u\ 
 a state of nature, carelessly gliding down 
 the stream of dissipation, I never once 
 regarded those things which befel me, in 
 ^ny other light than as matters of course, 
 or of accident, trivial in their nature and 
 consequences, which in no respect de- 
 rnanded my attention : but, through grace, 
 having since been better taught, I now 
 stand amazed at my former blind stupidity; 
 and from a deliberate review of the various 
 occurrences in my past existence,- can as 
 plainly discover the supporting and pro- 
 tecting arm of my heavenly Father, as I 
 at this moment do the most conspicuous 
 objects by the light of the noon-day sun. 
 rUicumstauces which formerlv annnnr«l 
 
 b2 
 
4 ' ^riml$ge9 ^f teinig 
 
 as bUnks m my life, now stand fortiji a^i|4 
 ^indi<Me the conduct )of the wise aii4 
 sovereign Disposer of $^11 things ; cleav^ 
 proving from su^ sequent events that thc^ 
 really were of the utmost importance, and 
 that ^n them depended the whok of 4^y 
 present and future h^pine^s. I therefore 
 )iumhly hppe, the disciple of Jesus Christ 
 who delights to w«dk closely with hi| 
 Master, and whose happy privilege it is, 
 l^y the light of the Spirit, carefully to mark, 
 and sweetly to meditate upon, the gracious 
 leadings of Divine Frovideuce, with 
 respect to his own soul, will not disdain to 
 learn liow the same i^lmighty arm, in in* 
 finite merely, hath led a poor fellow-trar 
 veller through many a rough and thorny 
 path. 
 
 It can be of little use to mention fhere, 
 the partioukw time and^pliice of his birth*. 
 " God is no rei^ecter of persona." Uut 
 surely there is a debt of gratitude due 
 from me, and many thousauds more, to 
 
 I i H '11 I* » 
 
 * He WM bom Sth BBfttdHibm, 1748, at A(*ruthcr, 
 in Fif«sUir«. 
 
hom' in Mfiiain. 
 
 i 
 
 the great St»uitJ€ <rf B€ingi to g^iving u« 
 
 att e«J«(tettce m thi« WgWy fkvottred isle, 
 
 niidter the bright^hiiikig of the everlasting 
 
 Qo«f)Cl*? Who dkPe pPesVLiae to say, that 
 
 as ft dov^i^i^, H*^ttiight not ae justTy have 
 
 ranlbedttst aEikieftgf tiNi ignorant Hottentots^ 
 
 #^ ftiH)i*ghtt «« int<> Iteiftg among the sa^ 
 
 vage i»ftftbi*^tfc of NteMp Honand ? 1 am 
 
 ftft^i^, teiy fe^ 0Ven of God'U ehi-l^hreii put 
 
 $1 ftttikiient e^timale upon this btesiing; 
 
 Beciitt«« Tt tft-commoA tx>thii» gen^ra^Mi, in 
 
 thi# |>art €tf th«#opkl^ it id «ithei» sHghted^ 
 
 or Ibrg^teft; hut it ok^I to b» rfifkneai" 
 
 hei%^, ^at it is not eommoo to alt the 
 
 humttfi rate* T0 have a^ just idea of id 
 
 vahitf, tve need but oai* the ej'o of reflect 
 
 ti0n a fb\<« cenidMtk^ haek, and behold 
 
 trhat gross igfioranoe^ s<»p«rsti#i<m^ and 
 
 more than midnight darkness, covered the 
 
 poor untutored inhabitants of this laii<t. 
 
 Multitudes did not knou^ there was sttch 
 
 a book as the Bifble in the world ; iifimbers 
 
 more toutd not obtain a sight of it in a 
 
 language they understood ; and the very 
 
 few that didi after spending many painfid 
 
 years in the study of the rflspeotive Ian 
 
 B 3 
 
e 
 
 ^enejilsofa 
 
 guages, were frequently obliged to travel 
 many hundred miles, to some university, 
 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 privilege* we enjoy. 
 
 Besides this common mercy, of being 
 born in a Christian land, God was pleased 
 to bestow upon me another, which is not 
 common to all his children ; that of being 
 born iii godly parents, and surrounded on 
 all sides by truly pious relations. Infant 
 reason no sooner dawned, than they began 
 to use every possible means to give that 
 reason a right bias towards its proper ob- 
 ject ; and they daily approached a throne 
 of giace with fervent prayer for their help- 
 less 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 
 
Heligidm Education. 
 
 t 
 
 much (James v. 16) (and surely I can 
 confirm the truth of this scripture), how. 
 greatly am I indebted to God, who blessed 
 me with such parents ! There are many 
 in the world, who take as much pains to 
 inculcate into the minds of their tender 
 offspring the love of sinful pleasures and 
 perishing vanities, as mine did to persuade 
 me to the love of God, and to the pursuit 
 of eternal things. A religious education, 
 it is true, will not always restrain the 
 vicious inclinations of youth ; as many a 
 pious father and mother know to their sor- 
 row: but it is nevertheless a means of 
 grace, of God*s appointment^ and from 
 which many have reaped the most salutary 
 eft'ects. Though the fruits of such an edu- 
 cation may not appear for many years, yet, 
 sooner or later, the assiduous labours of 
 the godly parent will certainly, in one 
 respect or other, be amply regarded. I, 
 among a multitude of others, am a living 
 witness to this truth. The virtuous and 
 evangelical principles 1 imbibed in my 
 youth, and the pious examples constantly 
 kfet before me, though frequently slighted, 
 
S His Gtandfittker*s CkaYoeUr. 
 
 and sdmetii^es in the course of ji wiek«* 
 life entirely forgotten, yet BeWom or Metier 
 ^ted to witness against me in the wilftir. 
 commission of sin ; m^ fVeqwently werr 
 Ae means: of preventing its perpetration; 
 and what prevents sin^ m^nst surely be a? 
 great btessing. -i^, ':■> ■n.n c^^\\ - :n-tr 
 •i I caiv giise but a very imperfect account 
 of what passed in the earfy par« ^ mf 
 life- Here Hiemory foils me ; bui I hav** 
 fr«qu€ntljr heard my graMdmoHler ands 
 aunt say, I was of a very deKcate conetitu-* 
 tion^ and many times^, contrary ft> all expec- 
 tation, was delivered from- the very brmte 
 0* the grave. The ttnseen a«tn of the Lw* 
 was graciously extended to protect me \n 
 an infant state, and led me safe through all 
 the dangers to which rash unthinking 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 zea- 
 lously in his master's vineyard for upwards 
 
 ofsixtyyears,anddied,timversdJ]y regretted, 
 at a very advanced age. Here my elder 
 brother and myself became the peculiar 
 
 I 
 
Choice of a Pfefession, 
 
 § 
 
 change of this veitefable gwidfe, afttf ioMtt 
 fiifl immediate ini^ctioif were carefully and 
 religiously educated. At tfte age of four^ 
 teen, when 1 had made as great a jrtrogTesg 
 in my studies aa I could well attain at th6 
 best gi'ammar-sehool in the place, my fether 
 judged it full time for me to think of evt- 
 tering' into some Hrie of life in which I 
 might be enabled; under God* to provide 
 for myself; his own sitnation in the mei*. 
 eantile woa*kl being such as 1^ Mm 
 little hope of ever being able to^ mfake any 
 settlement for his children. Accordingly, 
 in a letter he wrote to Hie about this lime*, 
 he proposed to my consideration, the thre« 
 followrng professions; either t^ continue 
 my studies at the university, with a view 
 to the church; to study physic; or to 
 follow the law. The last of these he rather 
 recommended, on account of hte having a 
 vahiable friend in that profession, with 
 whom he could then advantageously plac« 
 me, so as to be more immediately under 
 his own eye. Having no fixed* choice of 
 my own, I readily feH in wi<h that of a 
 kind parent, whoni I had every reason td 
 
 
10 
 
 Placed in an 
 
 love and respect ; and soon after I left my 
 grandfather's houae, went home, and in a 
 few days was placed in the office of my fa- 
 ther's iriend, followed by many a fervent 
 prayer, and by many a godly admonition to 
 Jbeware of the alluring* temptations to which 
 I should be exposed, and many an exhorta- 
 tion to be very assiduous in endeavouring to 
 gtiin 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, flat- 
 tered 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. This he now did, by one 
 of those sudden turns of providence, of 
 which, in the course of this narrative, it 
 will be found 1 was frequently the subject. 
 
Attorney's Office. 
 
 Xi 
 
 I have often thought of the pleasure the 
 redeemed soul must feel in the world of 
 spirits, when permitted to see the intricate 
 thread of Providence fully unravelled. 
 And as I humbly hope, through grace, to 
 be thus highly favoured, methinks I shall 
 stand amazed, and with glowing gratitude 
 admire the divine goodness and wisdom, 
 in not permitting me to prosecute a busi- 
 ness, in which many dangers and snares 
 frequently, 1 .fear, occur to perplex the 
 mind of the conscientious Christian, and 
 into which I might have fallen, and been 
 i-uined for ever ! Hpw this sudden change 
 of situation was effected, with the circum- 
 stances that introduced me into an entirely 
 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 re- 
 latives, ready to warn and correct me on 
 the least failure, I should have been in a 
 planner constrained to walk circumspectly, 
 even if I had been most viciously inclined: 
 that, however, wag not the case; for iriy 
 
II! -' 
 
 
 1^ J^eligiam Duties performed, 
 
 compasMcmate Creator, among' a» his (rthef 
 fevotirg, gave me a tender conscience, 
 which in those early days^ was mow 
 hearkened to than it has frequently been 
 since ; and, if I mistake nd, the principal 
 part, if not the whole, of my religion then 
 consisted in attempts to pacify this ela- 
 morms monitor. My parents careftilly 
 taught me to pray with the lip ; but it was 
 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, iw eight 
 or ten years together ; but I may safely yen- 
 ture to affirm, \ did not know the i^itual 
 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 Catechism . Tlie name 
 of Jesus Christ, with salvation through 
 him alone, was ccmtinually sounding in 
 my ears ; but, alas ! I neither saw my need 
 of such a Saviour, nor at all understood the 
 extreme importance of this declaration. 
 Indeed I thought it was my indispensable 
 duty to be religious like those about me, 
 
but mi Relished* 
 
 II 
 
 that I ffiighft e»eape the pains of hell, and 
 lay in a claim to the joys of hearen. A 
 Pharisee in miniattire, I delighted to think 
 of heaven, and often longed to be one of 
 its inhabitants ; though I never rightly re- 
 lished the nature of their divine employ- 
 ment. The idea of hairiness flowing from 
 the nnintemipted worship of God and the 
 Lamb, was then too spiritual and sitblinie 
 for me to comprehend. Consequently, my 
 religious duties were for the most part 
 very burdensome. I particularly remem- 
 ber, the Sabbath day jgenerally appeared 
 as long as any 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 religion to boast of 
 at that period, than that which tliousands 
 are contented with in the present day : I 
 mean that of education and example. Had 
 I been born and educated at Constantino- 
 ple, 1 certainly had been as good a Mui^ 
 sulman, as I was then a Christian. A 
 
14 
 
 jffis Father becontis 
 
 "form of godliness," without any thing of 
 its power, was all of which I could boast. 
 I neither wished for, nor felt the necessity 
 of, a better. Something which I then 
 fancied of far greater moment, wholly 
 engrossed my attention; and that was, 
 Jiow 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 losses and disappointments in 
 trade, particularly by the foundering of a 
 ship that was not insured, found it imprac- 
 .tieuble any longer to maintain his family in 
 that line of business in which he had been 
 engaged ; and having no promising pro- 
 spect of soon entering into any other, he 
 obtained, though with some difficulty, 
 through the instrumentality of Sir H. 
 £rskine, a purser's warrant to a sloop of 
 war. To a man of my father's domestic 
 character, the thought of separation from 
 
u Purser of a Man-of-War. ^h 
 
 hia beloved family, his friends and connect 
 tioiis, was one of the heaviest trials he had 
 ever met with ; but necessity, sad necessity, 
 left no room to hesitate. He therefore set 
 off immediately to join his ship, the M—, 
 and embarked in Yarmouth-roads. 
 
 From this period 1 felt insensibly stealing 
 upon me a strong desire to follow my 
 father's steps, and share his fortune at sea. 
 This wish increased upon me every day; 
 so that I soon began to disrelish the slow 
 and painful way of scraping riches together 
 with my pen, and thought and talked of 
 nothing but a man-of-war. My youthful 
 mind, filled with strange notions of noble, 
 warlike achievements, and puffed 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 1 had already acquired some little 
 Icnowledge, in order to strike out a new, 
 and, as 1 then imagined, a far more honour- 
 able, way of rising in the world, and, upon 
 the very face of it, a much easier method 
 
16 
 
 Embarks witk his Faihert 
 
 of attaining to a state of opulence, whirh, 
 in my eyes, was the "one thing needful.*' 
 
 When my father wan informed of my 
 determination, he rather encouraged than 
 opposed it; and only insisted upon my 
 first employing a few months more in the 
 study of navigation, and other necessary 
 branches of mathematics; a request with 
 which I cheerfully complied. I was just 
 preparing to set off to join the M — , 
 then at the Nore, when, providentially, she 
 was oFilered to convoy a fleet of merchant- 
 men from a sea-port within twenty miles of 
 my abode. After having waited impa- 
 tiently several days for her arrival, I at 
 last set oif from my native place, accom- 
 panied part o*" the way by an elder brother ; 
 and embarked on board this vessel on my 
 birth-day in the year 1768, being then six- 
 teen years of i>ge. 
 
 Before I proceed, I must for a moment 
 indulge a pleasing reflection on the good^ 
 ness of our Heavenly Father to me his un- 
 worthy creature, in the transactions of this 
 day ; that my heart, so very prone to forget 
 tlie Lord's mercies, may once more enjoy 
 
on his Birth-days A, D. 1758. 17 
 
 the pleaunre of ftcKiig a fflow of K»*atiludi! 
 and lo\^. What a pmiliar blteftsiii^ wan 
 it, for instance, tliat ttow, wlw;n in tb^ bloom 
 0f yonth, wtronjET and^ hca4thy, every pjujftion 
 ready to Iwm ifrt#a fhwne ^wnfVd ftratift- 
 tatkrtis I embarked ©n bi^ard a man-o<^war 
 (a pltt^e so wifiwonrabl^ to tJ:€ g^wmtb of 
 r<iM^on), I tb<»re fottiid a plcnw father, like 
 another guardian angel, warning me of the 
 approttch of danger, poittHing ont the path 
 of safety, and serving as a powerful restraint 
 against the eommission oi^ *h«se gross ini- 
 qwities, in ttie midst of which we were both 
 oWiged to rfwell ! IV hat would Initc be* 
 come of me in this dangerous situation, if 
 God had tK)t there plareiJ such an instru- 
 ment} to- protect me ! Instead of being 
 frequently slmt up in a caliin wiHr an af- 
 fectionate pftrent, «bere »i>en<*rng many an 
 howr io prayer, rewliwg the 8crtt>tures* 
 and listening to his pious Instrwftions, 
 wbile he pointed o^il Jesu», and the way of 
 salvation through him; \ most profiably 
 should have l)een carousing with my 
 abandoned messmates beh/W, wallowing in 
 all manner of sin and uncleanness. bias* 
 
18 Employed under his Father, 
 
 ! 
 
 I 
 
 pheming my Saviour, perhaps, with every 
 breath I drew. Little did I then think of 
 the advantages I reaped from a father's 
 care ; much less did ; I ever imagine that 
 God had any influence in it : but now that, 
 through grace, my eyes are open, and I call 
 to remembrance the many promising youths 
 I have seen entirely ruined in a few months 
 after they entered the navy, and how few 
 there are, who enjoy such a powerful pro- 
 tection from its contaminating pollutions 
 as I did ; I stand amazed at the discrimi- 
 nating love of God, and, while I gaze at 
 the danger escaped, wonder that I do pot 
 love Him more. 
 
 I was just entering into my seven- 
 teenth year, when I embarked with my 
 beloved parent, though not in that line of 
 service in m hich I had formed all my foolish 
 plans of glory and riches ; for my father 
 Avell knew the great difficulty there was of 
 procuring a commission in the naval de- 
 partment, and how many years of service 
 it was necessary 1 should go through, before 
 I could be duly qualified. He therefore 
 judged it >\ ould be most for my advantage, 
 
Sails from Leith. 
 
 l» 
 
 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 1 
 was employed, during my continuance on 
 board the M— , in the captain's cabin, to 
 assist his clerk in keeping the ship's books, 
 and my father's accounts. Those who were 
 my companions when walking the quarter- 
 deck, and who are all now dead, were of 
 the most abandoned description ; my mess- 
 mate, the captain's clerk, being one of the 
 worst of them. .Though too often en- 
 ticed into the paths of sin by their bad 
 example, yet, thanks be to God ! through 
 means of the powerful restraint just men- 
 tioned, I was not then suffered to be en- 
 tirely carried away into the current of their 
 iniquitous pmctices. 
 
 A few days after 1 embarked, we sailed 
 from Leith, and soon arrived in the North 
 Sea, where we were stationed during the 
 winter, to protect the cod-fishery, on the 
 Dogger-bank. But surely never poor 
 mortal went through a more severe ordeal 
 than 1 did here ; being constantly sea-sick, 
 
20 Stationed en the Doggeit-Ban^, 
 
 and almost in l«>«riy d^ead af perishing on 
 
 « lee ghotfe, or feund«ring^ in the ocean ! 
 
 Such tra» my tt^ly imcomfortftble «it»iatJon, 
 
 that J oilen wished myself any whc w» or any 
 
 thing, rath«if dian wbers andwh«tl wa«^; 
 
 hut iM^wi«wfi#«*oh»l« to repent. I cimld 
 
 ottfy €«clfcim bittterly, in seci^et, at my otm 
 
 «wi«uiiiinat» fblly, in leaving a promising 
 
 profession at hoffm^ for one so very djs. 
 
 agreeable and precarious al^foad ; espe^ 
 
 cially siftce I saw no probatnUt)^ of etef 
 
 amassing the immense fortune my eo\«lotii 
 
 heart m eag«uly desived.* 
 
 Thug felteeiows awe the dream* ofi those^ 
 who expect ta fimd happiness in any tiutig 
 short oif true religion. 
 
 Happy was it for me that mv station- on 
 the l>0gger-hffnk diti not last so foog a« 
 we expected. On the 7th vf Jsmmry 1^ 
 lowing (175^), we weife relieved by the 
 GfamiMis sloop, and ordered immediately 
 to the Nore. In a few days afters we worfe 
 sent into dock at Sheerncss* FVoiw this 
 place, I went for the Arst time, with my 
 
 I 
 
 " ^ ■ « I »i. »■ ■ , 
 
 • The suju total of the i>riz« money I madQ duriajf 
 this war, amounted to three uhiliinga and sixpence ! 
 
Driven to the Coast of Holland. 2t 
 
 wicked messmate, to London; and have 
 surely great reason to bless God that 
 during the time I was there, under such a 
 truly diabolical guide, 1 could not be pr^ 
 vailed upon to partake of those impure 
 pleasures which destroy many a hopeful 
 youth in that abwidoned city, Yet, never- 
 theless, I ^m i« the very jaws of death, 
 treading the paths that lead down to hell 
 (Frov. \ii. 27) ; and had I then been per- 
 mitted to fall, who eould say that I should 
 ever have emerged from this sink ctf pol- 
 lution. Sovereign g-raee will be the 
 ransomed sinn^r'p P««g »" through the 
 wilderness: for my own part, I ca» 
 
 sii|g vo other. 
 
 About the btrginning of March, 1759, 
 we sailed frwn the Nore on a cruise toward 
 the north; but soon meeting with very 
 heavy gales of wind, were driven over to 
 the coast of Holland, and obliged to run for 
 shelter into Helvoetsluy^s. Here we re- 
 mained wind-bound near?y three weeks. 
 During this time, while my father was at 
 Rotterdam, I spent some very agreeable 
 hours .in ftrolUi^ abwit the country vil- 
 
6^ Tempted to Into.rkatlon ; 
 
 lages ; viewing these rural scenes with alf 
 khe luxury of enjojinent, so peculiar to 
 sea-faring people, just returned from a 
 boisterous element. 
 
 On the 1st April, 1759, we left Holland, 
 and arrived next day iii the Downs, where 
 we received orders to proceed to Ports- 
 mouth to h6 docked. Ill ten days' the ship 
 Was sheathed and fitted for foreign service; 
 tmd we then sailed from Spitheadrwi«i 
 *he Crescent frigate and a large fleet of 
 merchantmen, forthe West Indies. 
 
 A journal of ©ur voyage across the At- 
 lantic, is more likely to tire than t» amuse ; 
 I shall therefore only mention one incident 
 that then occurred, uhich, whil^ it ittav 
 tend to humble in the dust, may also serve 
 as a specimen of the fruit of the religion I 
 then possessed. Having on the 16th May 
 crossed the tropic, the boatswain, gunner' 
 ftnd carpenter, my messmate, and myself] 
 got together in a cabin, to spend the even- 
 ihg, and drink (as they termed it) a cheer- 
 ful glass ; but instead of " a cheerful" it 
 soon became a sinful one. Before the 
 party broke up, I was, for the first thne iii 
 
thence to Lying, 
 
 & 
 
 my life, so completely intoxicated, that I 
 lost the use of my reason, and was unable 
 to move hand or foot. In this state, I was 
 thrown by my staggering companions into 
 a hammock. The next day I began to feel 
 the usual effects of an evening's debauch. 
 My affectionate father Mas very inquisitive 
 to know what was the matter with me ; but 
 dreading to inform him of the real cause, 1 
 told him a direct falsehood, and said I was 
 only sea-sick and should soon be well. One 
 sin is seldom committed without drawing a 
 numerous train after it. When he began 
 to interrogate me a little more closely, and 
 seemed surprised at my being sea-sick when 
 the weather was so fine ; I was led, for fear 
 of discovery, to confirm the first falsehood 
 by telling a dozen more. When I had thus 
 satisfied him, I found my mind very easy ; 
 and never thought (or if I did, it was very 
 superficially) that I had offended God by 
 such wicked conduct. So little did I then 
 see or feel of the deceitful nature and tend- 
 ency of sin! 
 
 On the 6th of June we arrived at Bar- 
 badoes, and the same day in the evening: 
 
M Prevented eating Manchineel Fruit. 
 
 i ^a^perwnced ajaoth^ proof of the gr^ 
 «iou8 iBterpDsition of that divine ProT^i- 
 ;de9ce, wliich rules over alJL, and in a thou- 
 sand instaacee of imminent ^angei' hf^ 
 ^seasonably appeared fcr my pf^aervation. 
 Hav4ngf procm^ leave ,to tiie a jamWe 
 ^an rshore for ^ lew Wuis with v^ m^»- 
 >mate, we . imn^ediatety ion landing Mr^led 
 «p the o^nntrj. Being at « little di&tance 
 <lief<»'e him, luider a ;f]t>w of manchinet^l 
 ^ti^s, I liasftily topped 4own ^and jpicked 
 «p «ome of 4he iHHPte. Altij^gether igwo- 
 <ran< of theix pois^noiMiqwdify, and «np- 
 (po^ing them t» he timosf, I waa e«g)ei% 
 d[>uttingtheiB4o my«Eiowl&, to fioench^ 
 l;hir«t ; whi^n n^ anesemate. ^lou^at «Q]»e 
 (diatfme^, ^aaw the dai^gar, galled out wd 
 jM^esven^d it : otherwise, in a few jxt^iDents 
 jnore, it is mxy probaWe I ,ah9uUi have 
 dnwik the deadly, poiaon, >an^|p|B«uibed4n 
 niysins. 
 
 Whe third day after our arrival herq, 
 we aailed for Antigua, and tihence to 3t. 
 Kitts, and arrived at Jamaica on the ^5tth» 
 whtre it pleased Qod, onoe more, to ghe a 
 sudden turn to all a^ wojrW|y view» and 
 
Detained at Jamaica, 
 
 schemeS) by entirely cutting off all hope of 
 future advancement in the navy ; so order- 
 ing circumstances, that both my father and 
 I were obliged to quit it. Having spent 
 but a few days at Port Royal in watering 
 and victualling the ship, we sailed on a 
 cruise round the i^and^ full of expectation 
 that we i^uld not. return without making 
 some capture*; but the pilot had scarcely 
 brought us out of the harbour, when either 
 through ignorance, or from some unusual 
 current, or sudden shift of wind, he ran the 
 ship fest aground. The sea breeze begin- 
 ning to freshen, she struck several times 
 violently upon the shoals, carried away her 
 false keel, and great part of her sheathifig ; 
 but by the timely a^stance of the boats in 
 the fleet, she was soon got off again, towed 
 into harbour, and ordered to be hove down. 
 During this tedious operation, my father 
 was seized with a diarrhea and slow fever, 
 and declined visibly in his health every 
 day. Ifc was at last brought so low, that 
 his medical attendants advised him, speedily 
 to leave the West Indies, as the only pro- 
 bable means of saving his life. He there- 
 
 
 
26 
 
 His Father's Sickness 
 
 fore determined at all events to embrace 
 the first opportunity of returning to Eng- 
 land ; in order to which he was obliged to 
 throw up his warrant as purser of the M — . 
 At the same time he obtained my dis- 
 charge; though the captain used iall his 
 interest with the admiral to prevent it, from 
 a selfish view, that, if his own clerk should 
 die, I might be ready to supply his place. 
 Indeed, his anticipations were soon realized; 
 for shortly after we left the ship, my mess- 
 mate died. His death was taken particular 
 notice of, by all on board ; for, during the 
 voyage from England, he used frequently 
 to say amongst his inconsiderate compa- 
 nions, 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 
 
and Departure for England. 29* 
 
 the smallest hope of providing for me 
 there; but as I enjoyed a good state of 
 health, and seemed rather inclined to re- 
 main in Jamaica, he thought it might tend 
 much more to my temporal advantage to 
 leave me behind. He therefore 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 31st 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 pre- 
 valent 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 escapes and won- 
 derful deliverances I afterwards expe* 
 rienced. 
 
 c2 
 
28 Heftections on being 
 
 In a biographical narratiye, swieh a»I am 
 now writing, it must be evident toerery 
 candid reader, that the principal thing re- 
 quisite is a strict adherence to truth. How- 
 erer deficient the present performance may 
 be in many other qualities necessary to 
 make it acceptable, I am very confident it 
 Witt not be defective in this. Had I no 
 other resource from which to collect ma- 
 terials than a fallacious memory, I should 
 hardly venture to make this assertion ; but 
 ever since 1 left my native place, I have 
 ahnost constantly kept a diary, in which I 
 have faithfully recorded every material 
 circumstance that has befelten me : so that 
 I have BOW many mhmes o§ manuscripts 
 of this nature before me, from which to draw 
 the substance c^ these memoirs. So scru- 
 pulously particular have I been when in- 
 serting recent fafcts in my journal, that 1 
 have frequent omitted very striking inci- 
 dents, where there appeared the smallest 
 doubt of their authenticity . 
 
 This short digression is made with a view 
 to convince those who may peruse this nar- 
 rative, that they are not reading a romance. 
 
left at Jamaica. 
 
 29 
 
 . Jor^ura:— When I lo^t 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 my- 
 self, the Lord knows I acted very sinfully. 
 Had not his all-wise providence graciously 
 interfered to over-rule my wicked conduct, 
 I had certMnly fallen a victim to my own 
 
 folly. 
 
 The serious impressions which a reli- 
 gious education had made upon my mind 
 were not immediately, nor ever entirely, 
 obliterated ; but the restraint of an earthly 
 parent being removed, the fear I then had 
 of God was not sufficiently strong, to keep 
 me from the commission of those particular 
 sins to which my constitution and a 
 depraved inclination naturally led me: 
 though in the first open deviations from 
 the path of rectitude, 1 enjoyed very little 
 satisfaction. 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 nature of those 
 pleasures which the carnal mind so eagerly 
 
 c3 
 
Retires front Kingston 
 
 jpursues. 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 
 Vas so strongly impressed upon my mind, 
 that I had no rest night or day, till I deter- 
 Itoined to retire into the country. To this 
 resolution I sacrificed a more lucrative si- 
 tuation than I i'ould possibly expect to 
 obtain there. But consequences of this 
 nature I seldom attended to in those early 
 days. I saw a very serious danger api 
 proaching, and I verily believe that I was 
 influenced from above to flee from it. 
 When I communicated my intention to the 
 gentleman with whom I lived, he consented 
 to my leaving his oflfice, and through his 
 interest procured me a book-keeper's place 
 upon a very healthy plantation only a few 
 miles from town. Here, for the fourth 
 time, I entered upon an entirely new em- 
 ployment ; which did not altogether suit 
 my inclination : yet my removal to it aflbrded 
 another striking instance of the Lord's 
 watchful providence. About three months 
 
to avoid an Epidemic, 
 
 31 
 
 afterwards, having occasion to be in town 
 upon some business, 1 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! 1 left them im- 
 mersed in sin, and for aught I know they 
 died in that state. Had I remained at 
 Kingston, 1 certainly should have visited my 
 friends in their illness, and in this case it is 
 morally certain 1 should have caught some 
 of their many-coloured fevers, and shared 
 the same fate. But discriminating mercy 
 interposed, 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 protecting mercy in various in- 
 stances of imminent danger; yet still 
 plunging deeper into the mire of sinful 
 indulgence, totally regardless of that kind 
 
32 
 
 Remarkable Deliverunees 
 
 ann which kept me from sinking into per- 
 dition. 
 
 In the latter end of the year 1759, when 
 the general insurrection of the negroes 
 took place, which proved so fatal to num- 
 bers of Europeans (some being cruelly 
 murdered in their beds, and others inhu- 
 manly tortured), it pleased God to restrain 
 those amongst whom I lived, so that not one 
 of them offered the least act of hostility, 
 though there were upwards of 200 suffi- 
 ciently armed to do much mischief, and 
 there were but two white men (the overseer 
 and myself) on the plantation to oppose 
 them. This signal deliverance was the 
 prelude to many others. For several months 
 after, guards were constantly placed on 
 all the high-ways to prevent the rebellious 
 negroes from assembling in numbers, and 
 during that time it came to my turn almost 
 every other night to stand sentry for several 
 hours, in the open air, exposed to all the 
 rains and dews of the season, which brought 
 on many disorders, and carried multitudes 
 to their graves. Through mercy, 1 was 
 Mill continued among the living and the 
 
from imminent Danger, 33 
 
 heaUhy . In short, scarcely a day or an hour 
 passed, whilst 1 remained on this island, 
 that did not evidently display, in one respect 
 or other, the watchful care of divine Provi- 
 dence in my preservation. Yet, wilfully 
 ignorant, or criminally forgetful, of the 
 gracious power that thus sustained me, 
 I slighted his 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 di- 
 minished, the darling inclinations of a 
 corrupt heart gradually prevailed, and so 
 far gained the ascendency that some of the 
 most glaring sins, which at first appearance 
 struck me with horror, imperceptibly lost 
 their deformity in my eyes, and Proteus 
 like, transformed themselves into innocent 
 enjoyments. Thus advancing, step by 
 step, in the dangerous road of sin, I soon 
 arrived at dreadful lengths ; drank in the 
 deadly poison with as much eagerness as 
 the thirsty ox drinks in water, and rushed 
 
 c5 
 
m 
 
 Determined suddenly 
 
 oh rapidly with the wicked multitude in the 
 broad way to eternal ruin. 
 
 O ! what infinite obligations am I undef 
 to the Best of beings, who would not suffer 
 me to continue on this unhallowed spot ! 
 Had I died there, which to all human ap- 
 pearance was very probable, my soul must 
 h?ve been irretrievably lost. It is a com- 
 mon expression amongst the wicked inha- 
 bitants of this island, and used to palliate 
 then- 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. 
 
 Iri 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 Christians, entirely 
 exploded as enthusiastic; but without a 
 full assent to this revealed truth, I really 
 cannot rationally account for many cir- 
 cumstances in my past life, particularly 
 for my conduct in the present instancej 
 when a strange, and otherwise unaccount- 
 
to quit Jamaica, 
 
 3$ 
 
 Me, impulse induced me to leave thi* 
 polluted country. 
 
 ■ I had for some time past fondly indulged 
 the hope of making a fortune in Jamaica ; 
 but, all on a sudden, I conceived such an 
 inveterate dislike to the place, and to every 
 thing connected with it, the heat of the 
 climate, the impiety of its inhaMtants, and 
 danger of my situation, both with respect 
 to body and soul ; that 1 resolved to leave 
 it the first opportunity that offered. 1 sat 
 down to deliberate on the step 1 was about 
 to take, and could not forbear lamenting 
 how much 1 should disoblige the best of 
 parents by thus throwing myself out of 
 employment. Neither was 1 unmindful of 
 the poverty and distress which would pro- 
 bably await me in England. Without 
 money, and without friends, 1 had no other 
 prospect before me than that of becoming a 
 common sailor or soldier. On the other 
 hand, the gentleman on whose estate 1 
 lived, kindly promised, if 1 would stay 
 with him. to make me overseer of another 
 plantation, a place worth upwards of ii200 
 a year. But all would not avail. Heaven 
 
36 Embarked in the Edinburgh 
 
 ■' 
 
 had prompted me to flee from this island, 
 and no arguments, prospecta of gain, w 
 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, 1760, I left the 
 plantation where I had been situated for 
 nine or ten months, and went into town ; 
 and being by a friend introduced to the 
 admiral, I solicited him (as having formerly 
 belonged to the navy) to grant me a passage 
 to England, in the Edinburgh, about to 
 sail with the first fleet. With this he readily 
 complied, 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, w'*' 10 small degree of pleasure, em- 
 barked at Port Royal, on the 24th of 
 August following : thus once more setting- 
 out anew in the world, altogether unpro- 
 vided for, not knowing what future plan I 
 was to pursue. But the same faithful 
 God, who kept me in Jamaica, was with 
 
fir England. 87 
 
 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 
 months 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, as my clothes were not ^:hen 
 on board, I was obliged to continue in that 
 uncomfortable situation the remainder 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 hammock, and when out at sea was 
 brought so low by a violent fever, tha« 1 
 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 convic. 
 tion of my accumulated guilt, nor the 
 smallest notion of Jesus Christ as a Saviour. 
 The prospect of a future state, just at 
 hand, made no impression upon me ; neither 
 did I feel tlie least terror at the approaching 
 pains of death. In short, I was dying, and in 
 
^ 
 
 S8 Not injured hy a Scorpion 
 
 every respect like the brute that perisheth ; 
 though endued with '< all the faculties of a 
 rational being, and 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 I was, to all 
 human appearance, breathing my last, the 
 surgeon of the ship administered a medi. 
 cine, which God so singularly blessed, 
 that it gave a sudden and favourable turn 
 to iny 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 
 init ; which had probably lain there a con- 
 siderable time, and yet had never stung 
 me. nu^\ ^ 
 
 Such incidents as these may be thought 
 by some too trivial to be mentioned ; but I 
 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 that over-ruling Providence, to 
 
which lay in his Mammock. 39 
 
 wfaosfe care I thankfully acknowledge myt 
 self indebted for my present safety. Many 
 striking circumstances 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* 
 Before we had got through the gulf of 
 Florida, the leaks increased to such a 
 degree, that when we reached the Atlantic, 
 the hope of safety had nearly expired, and 
 from fatigue, and the dread of sinking, a 
 solemn seriousness pervaded the whole 
 crew. So awfully alarming was our situa- 
 tion, that I well remember the captain's 
 reproving an officer for laughing. On a 
 very moderate calculation, we pumped out 
 at least two thousand tons a day! howi> 
 ever incredible this may appear, it certainly 
 was the case for several weeks; and on 
 some days, it amounted to double that 
 quantity. Beside the chain-pumps, that 
 are supposed to throw out two or three 
 tons in a minute, we had also four hand- 
 
» 
 
 Desuription of a 
 
 pumps in use, and were frequently obliged 
 to bail with buckets fix>m the fore-hold. 
 Ib this deplorable condition, on the 12th 
 of October, 1760, we sustained the shock 
 of one of the most violent tempests that per- 
 haps had ever been known. Those who had 
 been at sea for many years, and we had 
 several such on board, particularly 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 
 tiiree nights we were exposed to its uncon* 
 trolable power. To those who have never 
 experienced a tempest at sea, it may be 
 difficult to give a just idea of it ; yet some- 
 thing of our distressed situation may be 
 conceived from its dreadful and destructive 
 effects. When it first came on, we were 
 under a double-reefed main-sail and fore- 
 sail, both of which it tore to pices, and 
 blew overboard like a sheet of thin paper ; 
 and when a new main-sail was with diffi- 
 culty bent and set, it shared the same fate. 
 Nothing but the mast and yard now re- 
 mained, and these were expected every 
 
violent Tempest at Sea, 
 
 4t 
 
 moment, to follow. At first the force of the 
 wind was so great that the waves could 
 not rise, but were compelled to dash and 
 break into a white foam, so that the whole 
 ocean, as far as the eye could reach, ap- 
 peared in the day-time like an extended 
 plain of driven snow, and at night like an 
 immense forest on fire. . This terrific 
 scene was soon succeeded by another : the 
 sea began to rise " mountains-high," and 
 beat with such violence against our rotten 
 f^p, which we could scarcely keep above 
 water in a calm, 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 sides separating some 
 inches from the deck, one of the quarter 
 gdleries being washed away, and the water 
 pouring in in torrents, and carrying all 
 before it. Had the storm continued but a 
 few hours longer, we must inevitably have 
 perished. The Lord beheld with pity our 
 perilous situation, and (to speak in the lan- 
 guage of Scripture) " rebuked the wind, 
 
4i After the Hurricane subsides 
 
 land said unto the sea, Peace, be still-^ 
 (Mark iv. 39). Our astonishment was 
 something like that of the disciples on the 
 occasion alluded to (ver. 41), for almost 
 instantaneously about noon on the third 
 day, the whole horizon cleared up, the wind 
 gradually subsided to a gentle breeze, and 
 the whole face of the ocean was changed. 
 But not so the hearts of those on board. If 
 I may judge by myself, very few, if any, 
 were truly sensible of this great deliver- 
 ance. I might indeed unite with some 
 others in thanking God with the tongue, 
 but that, alas! was the utmost extent of 
 ihy gratitude. 
 
 On looking round for the fleet under 
 fturcare, though there were fifty-two sail 
 in sight when the storm began, not a single 
 ship was now to be seen. Many of them 
 had made the signals of distress, and we 
 afterwards learned that seven of them mere 
 never heard of more. We had one man 
 washed overboard, and several much hurt, 
 and although we did not all perish, we still 
 continued in the most imminent danger. 
 The uncommon agitation of the ship, during 
 
« Vessel is descried. 
 
 43 
 
 the tempest, had greatly increased her 
 leaks; to stop ^hich all possible means 
 were used, but without effect. From con- 
 stant labour, and a very short allowance 
 of fresh water, with salt provisions, the 
 men began to fall sick ; and, what was very 
 alarming, the leathers of the chain-pumps 
 were nearly worn out, and every day be- 
 came less useful. To heighten the dismal 
 prospect, we were many hundreds of miles 
 further from the land than before the com- 
 mencement of the hurricane, and were 
 totally undetermined what course to steer. 
 However, on the 16th of October, 1760, the 
 day after the storm, early in the morning, 
 a vessel was descried at some distance, to 
 which, imagining her to be one of, our 
 convoy, we crowded sail, fired guns, and 
 hoisted signals of distress. When she per- 
 ceived us, she bore down within hail, and 
 proved to be a Virginia trader, laden with 
 tobacco, and bound to Whitehaven. A boat 
 was immediately sent on board, with an 
 officer, to examine whether she was large 
 enough to hold the Edinburgh's comple- 
 ment of men (which was 600), with a suffi- 
 
44t 
 
 1 1 
 
 The Passengers go 
 
 cient quantity of provisions to carry them 
 to the nearest port, in case it should be 
 found necessary to leave his Majesty's ship 
 to sink at sea: but upon examination it 
 wail found that she had not the means of 
 accommodating 300, much less our whole 
 complement, exclusive of provisions. She 
 was therefore ordered to keep company 
 with us till the next morning, to receive de- 
 spatches for the Admiralty. The capbiin 
 then called all the officers into his cabin to 
 consult with them upon the best means 
 which could be taken, for the preservation 
 of the ship and the lives of all on boaiti. 
 The wind being feir, it was soon unani- 
 mously agreed, that we should bear away 
 for the ♦* trade winds," get into smooth 
 water, and steer for Antigua, the nearest 
 port, where we could be refitted. This 
 was a very unexpected resohition to all on 
 board, and a grreat disappointment to us 
 passengers, who had no disposition to re- 
 visit the West Indies. But where life is at 
 stake, the least glimmering of hope is 
 eagerly pursued; consequently the incli- 
 nations of a few individuals were not con* 
 
aboard that Vessel, 
 
 45 
 
 suited. About noon the next day a 
 signal was made for the Virginia trader 
 to bear down for despatches and other 
 letters for England. However, whilst all 
 pens were at work, it was hinted by one 
 of the passengers, that although this 
 vessel could not contain 600 men, she 
 might very easily accommodate us, who 
 were but seven in number, and no v. ay 
 bound to risk our lives in a king's ship 
 with those who belonged to her. No 
 sooner was the thought communicated to the 
 rest than it was eagerly embraced ; and ap- 
 plication was immediately made to captain 
 Langdon, requesting permission to seize on 
 this favourable opportunity of returning to 
 England. He readily granted our request, 
 and one of us went on board the vessel by 
 the first boat, and agreed with the captain 
 for our passage to Whitehaven. A little 
 before sun-set w« all embarked, after having 
 taken a sorrowful farewell of our unhappy 
 friends, whom we never expected to see or 
 hear of more. The next morning the 
 wind being fair for them, and foul for us, 
 we soon lost sight of each other. Before I 
 
4» 
 
 Siibsequent Passage 
 
 continue my narrative of what occurred to 
 us in the Whitehaven vessel, I must glance 
 at what befel the ship we had just left, 
 and reflect for a moment on the mysterious 
 hand of Providence, which so unexpectedly 
 removed us from one to the other. We 
 had not long separated, before the wind 
 became fair for us, but against them. In this 
 very distressing situation, almost given up to 
 despair, they providentially fell in with an 
 English 74 ; which greatly assisted in stop- 
 ping their leaks, furnished them with mate- 
 rials for repairing their chain-pumps, sup- 
 plied them with fresh water, and, having 
 induced them to change their resolution of 
 returning to the West Indies, brought 
 them safe into Plymouth, a fortnight before 
 we arrived at Whitehaven ! 
 
 Thus we often behold the sovereign 
 Disposer of events, by trivial circumstances, 
 suddenly defeat and overturn the wisest 
 counsels of the most sagacious of his 
 creatures! How unexpected was our re- 
 moval from the Edinburgh ! Who would 
 not say it was a wise step ? Yet we after- 
 wards repented taking it, although w« 
 
of the Edinburgh, 
 
 47 
 
 never entertained a thought that the crazy, 
 rotten ship we left steering for the West 
 Indies, could arrive in England before us. 
 When men who live *' without God in the 
 world" (Eph. ii. 12) meet with such sud- 
 den and unexpected changes, they never 
 regard them in any other light than as the 
 effect of chance ; or as events which daily 
 happen in the common course of things. 
 But surely that God who numbers the 
 hairs of the head, and ordains the sparrow's 
 fall (Matt. X. 29, 30), will never let matters 
 of far greater consequence pass without 
 his notice, or suffer events to take place, 
 big with importance to his rational crea- 
 tures, without his special direction. I 
 have often been amused in speculating on 
 what would have been the future course of 
 my life, if such and such incidents, trivial 
 in appearance, had not come to pass. For 
 instance : had I remained in the Edinburgh, 
 in all probability, 1 should have moved in 
 a very different line of life from that in 
 which I am now engaged. I certainly 
 should not have been a marine officer, for 
 there was a purser's warrant lying for me 
 
48 
 
 Grateful Retrospect. 
 
 at the Admiralty when the Edinburgh 
 arrired in England. If a purser, I must 
 have formed very different connections 
 from those into which I was afterwards led. 
 In these visionary wanderings I have been 
 frequently constrained to admire the wis- 
 dom, power, and goodness, of a compas- 
 sionate God, in ordering and over-ruling 
 all these circumstances, to promote his own 
 glory, and my permanent happiness. As 
 a marine officer, I became acquainted with 
 religious people, who directed me to heaven : 
 had I been a purser, it is very probable I 
 might have fallen amongst deists and 
 atheists, who would have led me with 
 themselves to destruction. " Bless the 
 Lord, O my soul, and forget not aW his 
 benefits!" (Psalm ciii. 2). 
 
 Clrristians are said to be the " salt of the 
 earth" (Matt. v. 13). Happy was it for us, 
 that there was at least one such character 
 in the ship I was now on board. The 
 captain was an upright, godly man, whose 
 unaffected piety and fervent zeal in his 
 master's cause, were like "pricks in ©wr 
 eyes, and thorns in our sides ;" damping 
 
Character of the Captain, 40 
 
 damping the gratification of our favourite 
 vices, though he couJd not entirely prevent 
 them. For the sake of propriety, we were 
 obliged to joint with him every d^ in 
 public worship.; but neither his pious exr 
 ample nor his friendly admonitions could 
 prevail on.u&to leave off gaming, swearing, 
 and. drinking. On the 4th of November, 
 1760» we began to look out for land, but 
 were not favoured with a sight of it till 
 the 7th». when we entered St George's 
 Channel; but the wind? blowing strong for 
 twcdaye, right against ourueaching White- 
 haven, we were obliged! to bear up for tlie 
 Irish coast, and on the9th^ about sun-set, we 
 came totananchon in Lough^Swilly, where 
 we remained some days weather-bound. 
 
 How wonderfully mysterious are the ap- 
 paraitly dark and intricate paths trough 
 whioh the God of providence frequently 
 leads his people! And how various, yet 
 constantly unifomi, are the powerful ope- 
 mtiona of his blessed Spirit, in calling 
 them from the darkness of nature into th© 
 glorious light of the gospel ! A few yeani 
 before, one of the trophies of sovereign 
 
60 Acquaintance with Rev. J. Newton. 
 
 grace, with whom I have passed many 
 pleasant hours in spiritual converse, the 
 Rev. John Newton, was miraculously pre- 
 served, and brought to this very place. 
 How different his experience from mine ! 
 *' We have not," as he beautifully describes 
 in the 10th letter of his Narrative, " met 
 with the f^ame winds and weather, been 
 ready to perish in the same storm of 
 temptation, nor always encountered the 
 same enemies ;" — but 1 trust it is neverthe- 
 less true, that " we have had the same 
 compass to steer by, and the same Polar 
 Star and Sun of Righteousness, to guide 
 our faces Zion-ward." 
 
 If any thing at this time could render 
 my conversion more difficult than that of 
 the eminent person above alluded to, it 
 was the circumstance of my having a form 
 of godliness without the power (2 Tim. 
 iii. 5), whereas he then had none at all. 
 Conscience, however, would not suffer me 
 to neglect calling upon God in prayer, 
 sometimes twice a day ; and while I thus 
 worshipped him with the lip, I considered 
 ftll as right, though my heart was seldoiu 
 
Arrived off Whitehaven. 
 
 51 
 
 or never engaged. But conscience, which 
 thus urged me to pray, could not, with all 
 its remonstrances, prevent me from sinning, 
 when prompted thereto by custom, tempt- 
 ation, or the example of others. I was an 
 entire stranger to true contrition, but rather 
 forgot my transgressions almost as soon 
 as they were committed. Thus blindly 
 I cherished the monster sin in my bosom, 
 and for many years never perceived its 
 hideous form, or dreaded the awful con- 
 sequences. How great the compassion of 
 that God, who was daily conferring favours 
 upon me, whilst I was heaping up acts of 
 rebellion against him ! May my soul be 
 deeply impressed and truly humbled under 
 this reflection. But to return to my nar- 
 rative. On the 14th we sailed from Lough- 
 Swilly, and the next day anchored in 
 Ramsay-bay, in the Isle of Man ; where we 
 remained for some days, until the spring- 
 tides afforded a sufficient depth of water to 
 take us into Whitehaven harbour. On 
 the morning of the 21st of November, the 
 wind, which had blown exceedingly hard 
 all the week, having subsided a little ; we 
 
 d2 
 
&2 Vessel strikes on a Sand^Bank. 
 
 seized the favourable moment, and with 
 some difficulty, hove up anchors, intending, 
 if possible, to push into Whitehaven before 
 night; but we had scarcely got safe out of 
 the bay, when it grew thick aad hazy, and 
 began to blow more furiously than, ever; 
 so that we could neither regain our an- 
 chorage, nor carry sufficient sail to obtain 
 our destined port : having no alternative, 
 we kept* running towards it, over tre- 
 mendous and terrific waves. About one 
 o'clock we assembled in the cabin to take 
 some refreshment, but the motion of the 
 ship was so violent, it was inipossifble to 
 sit at tAble. While w« were thus engaged, 
 not apprehending our present danger, the 
 vesser struck with such violence against a 
 bank of sand, as threw most of us flat upon 
 the deck. We were all dreadfully alarmed ; 
 and the scene that followed made an im- 
 pression on my mind that can never be 
 obliterated. 
 
 As beings imagining they had but a few 
 moments to live, all strove with dying 
 eagerness to reach the quarter-deck ; but 
 we had scarcely raised ourselves upright, 
 
Conduct of the Crew, 
 
 53 
 
 when the ship struck a second tinie, more 
 violently than before, and ag«iin threw us 
 all prostrate. We liOw considered our 
 destruction as inevitable. The most dr^id- 
 ful bowlings and lamentations were heard 
 from some, whilst the disfigured counte- 
 nances of others manifested the deepest 
 anguish. The scene was enough to make 
 the heart of the stoutest sinner tremble. 
 Though I cannot exactly describe the state 
 of my own mind at the trying moment, 
 I very well remember the agony of one of 
 my poor messmates. This man had 
 acquired considerable property in Jamaica, 
 and during the voyage, like the rich man 
 in the parable (Liike xii. 16), was fre- 
 quently devising plans of future happiness. 
 At this awfiil moment he exclaimed most 
 bitterly against the treatment of Heaven, 
 that had made him spend so many toilsome 
 years in a scorching and unhealthy climate 
 to procure a little wealth ; 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 
 
 d3 
 
54 Tranquii Conduct of the Captain. 
 
 Btroke had clrrci*,tiHl iiii liis hopei. The 
 cutting reflertions utui bitter complaints 
 which came from thin man's month ex- 
 pressed such bhick despair/ that he ap- 
 peared more like a fiend ol the bottomkjs 
 pit, than a sinner yet in the land of hope. 
 O ! how unlike in every respect to the 
 condu^^t of that dear follower of the Lamb, 
 the captain of the ship ! When shn first 
 strnt^k) it is rather remarkable 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 
 his 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 enjoyed the 
 greatest peace and serenity within, us a 
 foretaste of that heaven of glory, into 
 which, to all appearance, he was just now 
 entering. When we reached the deck, 
 saw our danger, and witnessed his un- 
 shaken conduct, we were ready to fall 
 
 m 
 
He/lecttom, 
 
 65 
 
 down and worship him, and ever after held 
 him in the highest esteem. Were thert 
 no other advantage to he derived from 
 trne rehgion, than the Hweet <!ompoHure of 
 mind it giveH in the time of danger, and the 
 blc8sed hope it hohlu ont in the prowpect 
 of death ; Hurely it ought to he anxionsly 
 cultivated by rational beingH, who are 
 surrounded t;vory moment with dangers 
 and deathH of various descriptionH. liy 
 the captain's distinct orders the veM«td was 
 presently put before the wind, and I bus it 
 pleased the Lord to prevent her striking • 
 third time, which in all probability would 
 have stove her to jiieces. In this case all 
 hope of preservation must have vanished ; 
 for the ship's boat, if it could have con- 
 tained us all, could not have swum five 
 minutes in such a tempestuous sea ; and 
 our distance from the shore excluded all 
 hope of bein." 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 (iod, who 
 in the midst of wrath remembered mercy, 
 
s« 
 
 Lands safely at Whitehaven. 
 
 andBpared the whole for the sake of one rieal 
 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 ihan usual . Still 
 an awful dread hung overusof whatnti^ht 
 befal us, during the long, dark night juSt 
 approaching; close on a lee shore, blowing 
 a hurricane, and afraid to carry sail to work 
 6if, lest the Teasel irom the severe shocks 
 she had suffered, Should %e overstrained. 
 
 The captain therefoi* di^rmined not to 
 keep the sea thait nigtit, but to run at all 
 events for ihe light on Whitehaven pier- 
 head. The danger was gredt if he should 
 overshoot the mai»k buft a few feet on 
 either side. He took the heltti himself, 
 and trusting to that omniscient God to 
 whom light and darkness are alike fPsrilm 
 cxxxix. 12), he piloted us safe into our 
 long desired haven ; and before ten O'clodk 
 that night, we were all saifely landed. 
 
 Who would not suppose, after such 
 wonderful deliverances, thait 'we should 
 all have been anxiou« to express our 
 gratitude to God, who had so gi*aciou»ly 
 
Want of Gratitude^ 
 
 57 
 
 preserved our lives? For my own part 
 it was quite the reverse. The shameful 
 truth must not be 4X)n€ealed. This un- 
 merited kindness had not the least effect 
 on my future conduct. Perhaps on step- 
 ping out of the ship, I might carelessly 
 thank God that I w^w once morr on shore ; 
 but even this feeling soon passed away. 
 
 The ingratitude of man in his unregc- 
 nerate state is beyond all conception asto* 
 nishing! Repeated terrors, and doubly 
 repeated mercies, perils, and deliverance^ 
 from death itself, in all its hideous forma, 
 will prove ineffeciual to rouse the sinner 
 to a sense of gratitude. Only the Spirit 
 of God, by his quickening influence, can 
 effect the gracious work. This solemn 
 truth, alas! was too fully confirmed in 
 me. Notwithstanding all that had passed, 
 1 continued to drink into the spirit of the 
 world with as much eagerness as ever; 
 was not only found delighting in all its 
 foolish pleasures and vanities, as far as 
 my pecuniary circumstances would allow ; 
 but was too frequently drawn into the 
 commission of grosser sins, with little or 
 
58 
 
 Writes to his Father. 
 
 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 drinking', I afterwards became so com- 
 pletely 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 I 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, 1 waited three weeks at White- 
 haven, 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 iu leaving Jamaica. I was not dis- 
 
His Father's Reply ^ 
 
 59 
 
 appointed 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 state (A 
 his own affairs in such a feeling manner, 
 that 1 regi-etted as much as he did the 
 rashness of my late decision. But it was 
 now too late to repeat, and I had the 
 satisfaction to find, that notwithstanding 
 my father's displeasure, his parental affec- 
 tion was not abated. He pitied my situa- 
 tion, and sent a sufficiency to supply my 
 present wants. Among other domestic 
 intelligence, he informed me of the death 
 of my pious grandfather, with whom I was 
 brought up in my youth, and who was 
 dear to me on many accounts. The ve- 
 nerable saint had reached his 90th year, 
 and in his dying moments prayed for me, 
 and expressed a very anxious concern for 
 my welfare. The manner in which my 
 father communicated this circumstance, 
 affected me very much ; and for a time it 
 threw a veil of seriousness over my outward 
 deportment : hwi the impression soon wore 
 off, and 1 returned to my old sinful course. 
 
00 
 
 Truvels to L^itdon, 
 
 
 i,\ ■ 
 ,1 
 
 hm'mg all my thoughts, words, And actions, 
 almost wholly directed to temporal eiyoy- 
 menls. 
 
 On the 13th of December, 1760, 1 began 
 my journey to London ; and having no in^ 
 ducement to be expeditious, I thought it 
 my duty to be careful of the little pittance 
 I had, and therefore chose the cheapest 
 rather than the quickest mode of travelling: 
 sometimes walking, sometimes riding on 
 horseback, but mostly in the stage waggon. 
 At the end of three weeks, 1 arrived in 
 Cheapside. If the Lord had not been with 
 me now, what would have become of me ? 
 1 shudder at the thought ! In the centre 
 of a profligate city, exposed to all its aiUuring 
 vices, with a constitution ready to comply 
 with the first temptation, and not a friend 
 to compassionate or direct me; was it 
 not more than probable that I should take 
 a wrong rather than a right step ? Espe- 
 cially as my pecuniary resources were so 
 nearly exhausted, that I had not more than 
 srfncient to defray my expenses through 
 half of another week. Glory to God ! 
 He did not suffer me to fall in this dun- 
 
Neglect (yf4tn Acquaintance, 61 
 
 gerioos situation ; but brought me at last 
 through every difficulty, and placed me i«i 
 that line of life in which I continue to the 
 present day: yet, not before he had en- 
 tirely orerturned all my own plans, as well 
 as those of my friends. 
 
 The first step I took, after my arrival in 
 liondon, was to wait on one of my fellow- 
 passengers, a man of property in Jamaicaf; 
 who, intending to return thither, had, in the 
 course of our short acquaintance, promised 
 to take me with him as a clerk, in case I 
 was not better provided for at home. Thus, 
 however courageous I was in my deter- 
 mination 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, poverty and 
 wretchedness fast approaching, my heart 
 failed, and I determinined one way or other 
 to effect my return. My pretended friend 
 received me coolly, stating that he hatl 
 made up his mind to remain in England, 
 and was sorry that he could do nothing for 
 me; I therefore immediately resolved, m u 
 lost resource, to ship myself off »u tlie firwt 
 
Striking Occurrences, 
 
 I 
 
 vessel I should meet with bound to Jamaica, 
 well knowing I could there find immediat 
 employment. What a mercy that 1 was not 
 suffered to put this design into execution ! 
 The very thought of it, at this distance of 
 time, makes me 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 father had 
 given me to particular 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 
 appointed purser of the Sea-horse man-of- 
 war. With a mixture of joy and fear, 
 1 eagerly inquired further. He told me 
 the warrant had been given 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 unex- 
 pected good news, I set off with all possible 
 
Visits Sir H. Erskine. 
 
 6d 
 
 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 ge* 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 
 intentions of an all-wise Providence to- 
 wards me. Had I come home in the 
 Edinburgh, I certainly should have been 
 purser of the Sea-horse; or if I had re- 
 mained three hours longer in Whitehaven, 
 I should, as 1 afterwards ascertained, have 
 received another letter from my father, in- 
 forming me of this appointment ; and of 
 course 1 should have posted to London to 
 take up my warrant. But, no! 'J'his 
 was not the will of my h' /enly Father. 
 However I might ditn grieve xnd murmur, 
 at what I ('ailed i\n adverse Providence, 1 
 now clearly see his wisdom and goodnest 
 
64 
 
 Resolves to return 
 
 '! 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 in ordering it as he 4id. All hope of prO' 
 curing a situation in London being at an 
 end, I opened my case to Sir Harry, and 
 begged the favour of his interest to do 
 something for me. He very obligingly 
 said he would ti^ to ^Qi me a conunissicm 
 in the marines, but observed he had very 
 little hope of succeeding. 
 
 No sooner had I made my bow, than I 
 again deteimined to pursue my former 
 resolutipn of returning to the West Indies. 
 
 what shall i render to the Lord, who 
 would notfuffer 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 intricate mazes of his Provi- 
 dence, in a way that I knew not, that at 
 the end I might be constrained to exclaim, 
 with the Israelites on Mount Carmel, 
 " The Lord, he is God" (1 Kings 
 xviii. 39). 
 
 From Sir Harry Erskine's, I went di- 
 rectly to Chelsea, to call on a Mrs. Hay, 
 one of my father's friends ; and although 
 
 1 had never seen this lady before, the Lord 
 
to the West Indies. 
 
 66 
 
 inclined her heart to become a true and 
 valuable friend to me also. And surely 
 never poor mortal had more need of one 
 than I, being at that time reduced to my 
 last shilling. How seasonably the Lord's 
 mercieaare distributed ! It has been well 
 observed by Dr. Watts : 
 
 " Just in the last distressing hour. 
 The Lord displays delivering power." 
 
 I have often proved it so in my weary pil- 
 grimage through life, and particularly 
 at this juncture, though I might not then 
 see as I do now. When Mrs. Hay knew 
 who I was, and was made acquainted with 
 my situation, sshe first very kindly invited 
 me to remain in her house, and afterwards 
 treated me more like a son than a stranger. 
 She supplied my pecuniary wants, and pur- 
 chased several articles of apparel in which 
 I was deficient. After some days she ad- 
 vised me to go to her husband on board the 
 Royal George, who was secretary to the then 
 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 
 
66 
 
 Travels to Portsmouth. 
 
 to be employed as a clerk in his office, and 
 should be upon the spot if any thing de- 
 sirable 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 relinquished my visionary plan of 
 returning to Jamaica. Though I am 
 anxious to shorten my narrative as much 
 as possible, yet I cannot forbear taking 
 notice of some of the providential mercies 
 I experienced at this period. 
 
 Before we reached Portsmouth, the 
 coach, being full of passengers, was over- 
 turned, and the coachman thrown from 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 beneath us. Had the horses taken 
 fright, or even gone on their usual pace, 
 the consequences might have been fatal. 
 
 On my arrival at Portsmouth, I fully 
 expected to find the Royal George at Spit 
 
Embarks for Plymouth. 
 
 m 
 
 head, 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 extre- 
 mity, inclined the heart of one of my coach 
 companions to invite me to stay with him on 
 board the Blenheim hospital-ship, till a 
 convenient opportunity should offer of 
 going out to the Royal George. Here I 
 remained up wards of three weeks, when find- 
 ing that the only certain conveyance to the 
 men-of-war off Brest, was from Plymouth, 
 I determined to go thither, and accord- 
 ingly embarked on board the Cormo- 
 rant 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 Mith the petty officers ; but the 
 surgeon of the Blenheim had recommended 
 me to the captain, who very obligingly in- 
 vited me to his table. 
 
 These are trivial incidents ; but they 
 were very important ones to me at that 
 time, and I wish ever to lemember them 
 
68 
 
 Striking Ineideni 
 
 as marks of Divine care for me ; and as 
 such, I shall here mention another of a si* 
 milar kind. Being detained on board the 
 Cormorant, at Cowes in the I«le of Wight, 
 for nearly a month, by strong westerly 
 winds, I grew weary ; and being anxioos 
 to knowsomething about the Royal George, 
 I set off early one fine morning in the pas- 
 sage-boat for Portsmouth, purposely to 
 inquire at the admiral's office, if ishe 
 were soon expected in port. I fully in- 
 tended 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 yen- 
 ture out for several days. Never was il 
 placed in a more distressing situation. A 
 perfect sti-anger in Portsmouth, with only 
 a few pence in my pocket, I continued 
 walking round and round the ramparts 
 nearly the whole day, till I was so com- 
 pletely worn out with fatigue and hunger, 
 that the violence of the wind almost drove 
 me off my legs. Night was approaching. 
 Finding it impossible to continue in this 
 
onBoTtsmouth Ramparts, 
 
 m 
 
 state much longer, and being well nigh 
 distracted, I began to devise schemes 
 where I should rest, and how I could 
 satisfy a craving appetite. At last I fixed 
 on the following expedient : having a pair 
 of silver buckler on my shoes, the gift of 
 an affectionate sister, I determined, though 
 grieved at the deed, to take them to some 
 Jew in the town, and exchange them for 
 metal ones; in hope that the overplus 
 would procure me a lodging and pur- 
 chase some food. Just as I was stepping 
 oiF'the rampart to put my plan into execu- 
 tion, I wa* accosted in a very friendly 
 manner by an old acquaintance, who shook 
 me by the hand, and asked me if 1 had 
 dined. When I answered in the negative, 
 he replied, " Then come along with me, 
 we are just in time." By this friend 1 was 
 plentifully supphed for a few days, till the 
 weather permitted me to return to the Cor- 
 morant at Gowes. Thus the same com- 
 passionate God who feeds the ravens when 
 they cry (Psalm cxlvii. 9), was at no loss 
 to find mea iS to supply the wants of an un- 
 grateful mortal, who did not then seek him 
 

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 (71*) •73-4503 
 
70 
 
 III 
 
 In May, 1761, got a 
 
 by prayetv nur acknowledge the benefit so 
 seasonably bestowed. 
 
 But having since been several times at 
 Portsmouth, I have walked round the ram- 
 parts with a glad heart, in the recollection 
 of this mercy, praising the Lord under a 
 feeling sense of his goodness. 
 
 Two days after my return, the Cormo- 
 rant 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 frigate, after a short 
 cruise in the Channel. At length on the 
 16th of March, after long and anxious ex« 
 pectation, 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 
 something 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 
 goodness of God, and even without 
 
 u 
 
Commission tn the Marines, 7% 
 
 thought that I was in any way indebted to 
 him for my present situation. On the 22d 
 of May I was sent for by the commanding 
 officer, who informed me that my friend 
 Sir Harry Erskine had procured me a com- 
 mission in the marines, and that he had re- 
 ceived 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 
 iife which my proud heart approved, and 
 in which, through rich mercy, I have now 
 been preserved upwards of fifty-three years. 
 Having obtained from my friend a suffici- 
 ency to pay my expenses, I proceeded to 
 London, and calling on my kind bene- 
 factress 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 spi- 
 ritual nature, which 1 have received at the 
 
7St 
 
 Fixed at CImiham* 
 
 hand^ of God in thi» well known, spot, 
 would be an undertaking far beyond my 
 power to a^QcnnpHshi Though infinite 
 wisdom found it neceaaary frequently to 
 conrect me, to prevent my falling, or to 
 restore my soul (Fsalm xxiii.)» yet, blessed 
 be hi» name, he has fa¥oured me with 
 nmny vi^ita of his-.reoonciled countenanoe, 
 the remembrance of i^ch.ia sweet: to me 
 at this moment, when vie\*«d as pledges 
 of my ere long enjoying, the full blaze of 
 his glory in Heaven. In this toi^n, ten 
 years, after the events I am now narrating, 
 the Lord was. graciously pleased to reveal to 
 my rejoicing heart the bostiof all his-bletft- 
 ings — the Lord Jesua Christ;; witnessing 
 by hia Spirit that he was- bestowed- freely, 
 " without money and without price" 
 (Isiiiab Iv. 1), that the whole praise might 
 redound to his intinite mency. Qf what 
 avail would all his other bleaaings have 
 been without this? This alone. constitutes 
 them real blessings. Without Christ Jesusi, 
 I had turned them all into a curse. The 
 possession of this ** unspeakable gift" 
 (2 Cor. ix. 16) turns eveary thing to gold: 
 
 1 
 
Return of Early Habits, 73 
 
 losses, crosses, disappointments,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 im- 
 pressed 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 nrr t advanta- 
 geously employ my leisure, and accord- 
 ingly laid down a regular plan for the per- 
 formance of religious duties, to which I 
 strictly adhered. Most of my ancestors 
 haying been members of the 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 there- 
 fore joined a Presbyterian congregation at 
 Kochester. I constantly attended divine 
 
74 
 
 He/lections on his own 
 
 service, received the sacrament once a 
 month, made a conscience of strictly per. 
 foiTning* my private devotions, and I be- 
 lieve was considered by most who knew me, 
 to be a very good Christian. Nay, Pha- 
 risee like, I was very much inclined to 
 think so myself. But whatever I might be 
 in my own eyes, or in the eyes of others, I 
 certainly was far from being right in the 
 sight of a pure and holy God. As ye* . 
 I was ignorant of the depth of ini- 
 quity in my depraved heart ; I had but 
 very indistinct 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 that pre- 
 cious blood, shed to take it away, or heartily 
 love or believe 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 
 
State and Character* 75 
 
 led to keep company with my brother 
 officers, though not habitually addicted to 
 their common vices (except that of gaming); 
 yet too fond of associating with them, I 
 was imperceptibly induced to imitate their 
 
 bad customs, and too frec^uentlytheir grosser 
 sins. Thus I continued for several months ; 
 and, however strange it may appear, even 
 then, from the severe checks of an awakened 
 and tender conscience, I made some pro- 
 gress in a religious life. Indeed my ex- 
 perience 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 experience 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 re- 
 solutely expeditious. If a limb of our 
 body is to be amputated, and an unskilful 
 surgeon, instead of doing it in a few 
 
 £2 
 
76 
 
 Partial Resolutions 
 
 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, and hardly feels the pain 
 of separation. When the Lord was pleased 
 to convinceme of the sin of spendingso much 
 valuable time at cards (my whole attention 
 and thoughts being carried after them), I 
 found it necessary, for the peace of my con- 
 science, to set about a reformation. First 
 1 vowed, and that very solemnly, that I 
 would only devote a certain time to them, 
 and no more ; but this resolution continu- 
 ally failing, 1 next determined only to play 
 for a certain sum, and never to exceed it. 
 When that would not do, 1 vowed still 
 more resolutely, to play only for recreation, 
 determining to be careful in the choice of 
 the persons with whom I played. But all 
 proved ineifectual. The more I resolved, 
 
relative to Card-playihg, 7T 
 
 the stronger grew the sin. A multitude 
 of broken vows heaped guilt upon guilt, 
 and brought an accumulated load of sorrow 
 upon my mind. So much so, that on one 
 Lard'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 pos- 
 sible, to come to some terms of accommo- 
 dation, but still the obstinate monitor 
 within, cried out—" There's an Achan in 
 the camp : approach the table of the Lord 
 if you dare." Scared at the voice, 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 with more freedom in the fields, 
 under the wide canopy of heaven. Here 
 I was led to meditate on the happiness of 
 the righteous, and the misery of the wicked 
 in a future state. The importance of eternity 
 
 £ 3 
 
78 
 
 JRemorse in Consequence 
 
 falling -with a ponderous weight upon my 
 aoul, raised such a vehement indignation 
 against " the accursed thing" within, that, 
 varying to God for help, I kneeled down 
 under a hedge, and taking Heaven and 
 Earth to witness, wrote on a piece of paper 
 with my pencil a solemn vow that I never 
 wonld play at cards, on any pretence what- 
 soever so long as I lived. No sooner had 
 I put my name to this solemn vow, than I 
 felt myself another creaitui*. Sorrow took 
 wing and flew away, and a delightful peace 
 succeeded. The intolerable burden hetng 
 removed from my mind, I approached the 
 sacred table (rf the Lord with an unustial 
 degree of pleasure and delight. This was 
 not my only idol. I had many others to 
 contend with. But while I was endeavour- 
 ing to heal my wounded soul in one place, 
 ere I was aware, sin broke out in another. 
 Yet still I kept striving, and at that time 
 was far from thinking myself unsuccessful : 
 conceiving my state a very safe one, I was 
 comfortable and cheerful. Indeed I have 
 often wondered since at the happiness I 
 I then enjoyed. The thought has some- 
 
of Broken Vows. 
 
 79 
 
 tithes alitnost stumbled me. Religion was 
 really ntiy delight. I loved the society of 
 't^ristiah's, and sometimes had sweet com- 
 ihlihion With G6d in prayer and other or- 
 4!ltilatic(es. Nay, I have at times enjoyed 
 such happy moments, such delightful in- 
 tercourile With Heaven, particularly on an 
 'eVeM'hg, that after having recommended 
 my soul to God in fervent supplication, I 
 liave kin dowh with the greatest serenity of 
 ihind, and been iildltferent whether I 
 should ever open my eyes again in this 
 world or not. My reliance at thi&time 
 wais hot on my own works, but on the 
 mercy of God as freely manifested in Chridt 
 Jesus. Yet I remained a strang^er to the 
 quickening power of diVihe gTace On my 
 soul. The sound doctrines of the Gospel 
 floated in hiy head, but I bielieve they iikd 
 not fully (if at all) reached my heart. If 1 
 am not much mistaken, t was as yet in 
 ia great hieasure carhal, unaf^cted, and 
 ignorant. The World was beither crhcifled 
 to hie, nor I to it (Gal. vi. l4). I had not 
 learnt wholly to deny myself, to takfe up my 
 cross, and to follow Christ j[Mairk x. 21). 
 
80 
 
 Removes from Chatham 
 
 But whatever my state might be at that 
 time) whether I enjoyed a true or a false 
 peace, this one thing I am sure of — ^the 
 Lord in infinite mercy and goodness has 
 since, by various means, imperceptibly 
 brought me to a more feeling sense of my 
 own vileness and wretched state by nature, 
 and to a greater acquaintance with the 
 iniquity of my depraved heart, and has 
 given me clearer apprehensions of his love 
 to lost sinners as displayed in the gift of his 
 only Son Christ Jesus. Though I am yet 
 a babe in this saving knowledge, I humbly 
 trust he will perfect the work he has begun 
 to ^e praise of the glory of his grace. 
 
 During my stay at Chatham, which at 
 this time was about a year and a half, I 
 experienced, as I always have, the goodness 
 of the Lord, in bkssing me both with spi- 
 ritual and temporal mercies. Among many 
 others, I cannot forbear mentioning with 
 what fatherly care he led me into the ac> 
 quaintance of pious people, in whose so- 
 ciety I not only acquired a further know- 
 ledge in divine ^ngs, but was kept from^ 
 being entirely carried away by the wicked 
 
ta Harwich. 
 
 81 
 
 examples mih which I was daily sur- 
 rounded. Besides, the Lord was pleased 
 many years afterwards to employ these 
 same pereons as instruments to bring about 
 my thorough conversion. But the greatest 
 reason which I had at this time to praise 
 God, was for his bringing me in a very 
 singular manner to an intimate acquaint- 
 ance, with the person to whom I was after- 
 wards closely united in the nearest of all 
 earthly ties ; though that happy counectioh, 
 through a Variety of dark and intricate pro- 
 vidences, did not take place till nine or ten 
 years afterwards. 
 
 In November, 1762, I was sent with a 
 party of marines to Harwich, and sailed 
 from thence a few weeks afterwards in. the 
 
 T , and arrived at Plymouth about the 
 
 beginning of 1763. Preliminaries of peace 
 being signed, I was ordered to disembark, 
 and to wait for a convenient opportunity of 
 coming round again with the detachment 
 to Chatham. I remained a few days at 
 Plymouth, then embarked on board the 
 p — F — , and soon after joined head-quar- 
 ters. During this short cruise, I expe- 
 
 E 5 
 
Jtemarkahle Deliverance 
 
 rienced two very singular instances of 
 God's protecting mercy. Indeed my whole 
 life hitherto, has been one continued scene 
 of such interpositions ; and though I have 
 forgotten the greatest part of them, and 
 thought but little of others when they hap- 
 pened, yet I cannot forbear mentioning 
 some of those which are still strongly im- 
 printed on my memorj'. May \ be enabled 
 to do it with a thankful heart ! Foreseeing 
 that on my discharge from the ship at Ply- 
 mouth, I should be reduced to half-pay, 
 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 duties with 
 an officer going to the coast of Guinea. We 
 made a joint application for leave, but 
 without much success ; for though such a 
 request is very readily granted in general, 
 it was absolutely refused to us. Thus, 
 greatly against my inclination, was I ob- 
 liged, in much mercy, to return to Chat- 
 ham, where I sat under the glad sound of 
 the glorious gospel of peace, instead of 
 
JrWui. Sudden DiatL 
 
 83 
 
 going to an uhhfealthy cMmatev ^h^re 1 
 never should have heard it, and Whence, 
 in all ptobabihty, 1 never should have re- 
 turned. The other providential m^rcy 
 with which I was at this time favoured, was 
 a Very narrow escape from sudden death. 
 The evening I embarked on bbard the 
 p.i-: 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 
 da'y-break the quarter-master being obliged 
 to shift the helm, on account of the tide's 
 turning, the ship then at an anchor in the 
 Sound, the tiller came foul of my ham- 
 mock, that was hung close up to the deck, 
 and squeezed 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 fast between the tiller and 
 the beam, that I could not get it disen- 
 gaged. I then cried out for help, and a 
 midshipman that happened to be there, 
 seeing my distress, ran upon deck, shifted 
 the helm, and released me. Upon my 
 knees, I thanked God for this wonderful 
 
84 
 
 Visited his Parents 
 
 deliverance. With David I could say* 
 " There is but a step between me anddeath/' 
 (1 Sam. xii. 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. 
 
 Soon after my arrival at Chatham, being 
 with many others reduced tp half-pay, 1 
 set off for London ; and being very desirous 
 of visiting my parents, whom I had not 
 seen for several years, I engaged in the 
 first ship sailing for Scotland, and arrived 
 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 Pha-: 
 risee. I had too high an opinion of my 
 own holiness ; and tliough my outward 
 carriage and conversation might indicate a 
 species of humility, the language of my 
 heart was to those around me: '* Stand off: 
 for 1 am holier than you.** I foolishly 
 imagined that 1 had now attained to such 
 a happy proficiency in the religion of 
 
in Scotland. 
 
 85 
 
 Jesus, that it was impossible for me ever to 
 fall into gross sins again, I do not re- 
 coliect that I had even the least idea of my 
 own weakness, or onc6 saw the absolute 
 need of constantly deriving strength from 
 Christ to withstand the slightest tempta- 
 tion to evil. My heart also began to be 
 again carried away by an anxious solici- 
 tude about what measures I should take to 
 provide for myself in the world. To give 
 myself up entirely into the hands of Pro. 
 vidence in this matter, was a lesson I had 
 not yet learned, neither did I see it req«i: 
 site that my religion should be constantly 
 mterwoven with all I did, that whether I 
 ate or drank, it should all be done to the 
 glory of God. My idea of religion at this 
 time seemed to be very different from that 
 of Mic Apostle in the place above alluded 
 to. 1 thought it should never interfere 
 Hith our worldly business ; and as is too 
 irequently the case with others, when en- 
 gaged in secular affairs, I frequently left it 
 behind and forgot I had any. A restless 
 worldly spirit, kept me from settling witii 
 my parents in Scotland; I remained with 
 
fd Went to France 
 
 them only a few months, and then set out 
 for London, with a view to push all my in- 
 terest to get into full pay, and if that should 
 fail, to try to get into some public office, 
 or merchant's counting house : but God 
 in his providence, having designed a very 
 different plan for me, overturned all my 
 schemes. I remained nearly a year in the 
 house of my kind friend, Mr. Hay, and 
 when I was quite worn out with disappoint- 
 mints, being as far from any appearance 
 •f a settlettkent as ever, a proposal was 
 m^a to ttie, by Mr. and Mrs. Hay, to 
 accompany their son to France. I readily 
 accented the oflfer, but very undutifully 
 neither consulted nor acqtfaint<;d my pa- 
 rents about it, till it was too late : for 1 
 had left England almost as soon as they 
 knew my intention. But never did a poor 
 deluded creature repent any thing so 
 much as 1 did this rash step. 1 then saw 
 no danger ; but when I now take a serious 
 review of the six long years of bondage I 
 endured in that strange land of ievUi/ and 
 guilt, how melancholy does the retrospect 
 appear! O, what a valuable portion of 
 
 (■ I : 
 
with Mrs, ffdif*s Son. 
 
 87 
 
 the prime of my life did I there impiously 
 squander. How far, very far, did I depart 
 from God, and by my repeated and aggra- 
 vated crimes provoke him to his face ! And, 
 yet— (O love inexpressible, long suffering 
 past all comprehension !) I was not con- 
 sumed. Though I was frequently brought, 
 by severe fits of sickness, to the verge of the 
 grave, his supporting arms were under- 
 neath, snatching me in the critical hour 
 from the jaws of destruction—" that in me 
 (He) might sliew forth all long suffering, 
 <br a pattern to them which should here- 
 after believe on him to life everlasting" 
 (1 Tim. i. 16). So dreadfully puffed up 
 was my Pharisaical heart, that if an angel 
 from Heaven had told me when 1 embarked 
 for France, that 1 should there depart from 
 God in the manner I really did, both in 
 heart and practice, I verily believe I should 
 have flatly contradicted him. I am now 
 firmly persuaded that such an awful lapse 
 as I tlien experienced, was absolutely ne- 
 cessary to make me humble and circum- 
 spect. I bless God, whose prerogative 
 alone it is to bring good out of evil, that 
 
88 
 
 Studies French, 
 
 with infinite wisdom and love, he hath so 
 ordered this circumstance as in a gpreat 
 degree to produce the desired effect. If I 
 can trust my own heart in any thing, I 
 now dread the thought of heing left to 
 myself as the worst of evils. But God 
 forbid that I, or any professor of Christ- 
 ianity, should ever take encouragement 
 from 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 I then was for several years in 
 France for millions of worlds. If God had 
 not mercifully Reserved my life, and givei^ 
 me timely repentance, how awful would 
 have been the consequences ! During the 
 first year of my abode in France, I was so 
 constantly employed in the study of the 
 language, the mathematics, &c., that I was 
 not so much exposed to those temptations 
 which afterwards proved so fatal to me. 
 But being deprived of the conversation of 
 pious people, and of all the public means 
 of grace, such a coldness and deadness of 
 soul ensued, to every thing of a spiritual 
 nature, that the fear of God and the power 
 
Mathematics^ ^c, 
 
 of religion gradually wore oif my mind, 
 until a broad ai\d easy way was made for 
 all the mischief that succeeded. Had I 
 returned to my natiye country with the 
 person who took me out, it would have 
 been a happy circumstance ; but, to my 
 great regret, Mrs. Hay, who had hitherto 
 been my best friend, now became my 
 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, put God, who sees the hearts 
 and actionjs of men, knows I was , unjustly 
 accused. The breach was several times 
 made up, through the medium of her son, 
 and an intimate French acquaintance ; but 
 the enmity 4n 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 
 England with her son, and left me behind 
 
ito Loses J^rs, Bay's friendship, 
 
 «6 isfhift for ttfysdf in the centre <^ a strange 
 «C6u»ti7, aft leajft eight hundred riiiles from 
 ^hdttie, Willi uiofthfO^lnol-e than ittyh^-J)ay 
 16 Jiubsist dh. I then th()%ht tMi& wiyriM 
 hftVe IteA siffficieftft, but a fety yeaw trid 
 conyinciea me to *he contrary. Mi-. Hay, 
 Ifee ifUther, liotiiifkhstanding wh^t had ha|>- 
 ^n6^, still coiitiliued my friettd, and j^difte 
 tittle after geht me sufficient ' money to 
 ^i-iy 4»ie home. Unhappily foip i&e, ere 
 this hdp feiraife, I had beett unwarily IW 
 tkitp ji £it^l cKmnect^ii» wbidi I had tto 
 titclfiiati^m to hr^tk off, and Sfetan had Ho 
 ^fktMnlty blmded uiy ey<» that I Wrapped 
 myself up in a goldfen dreatili of ease and 
 pleasure, alMl deitermined to spend the 
 remainder of hiy days ih FViftttie. But 
 when I awoke Uroto thi* ^Itimb^ a Ifeiv 
 years aA«r, and «aw my erfOr, 1 had ftot 
 ttie means of rttumiBig' to Enghind. When 
 Mrs. Hay left me to ttityself, I had tobt alto- 
 gether' forgotten the religion I imbibed 
 at Chatham, which ^evented ttie froiti 
 plunging directly into aia open cbtirse of 
 sin. But Satan, who kinew a miich more 
 eflfectual way to draw tafe over to his Hide 
 
SaUmic Delusim^. 
 
 'm 
 
 than by a 6Anct attack, made «se of fraud, 
 and fatalfy succeeded in iris orud purpose. 
 Had he tempited -me at fircA to the oommis^ 
 sion of some flagiBntsm, I probabfy should 
 have spumed the tempter with horror. 
 But he beings <too icrafty for me ^Ided tiis 
 bait so Weill, that I «oold not forbear «wal. 
 lowing dt; and when the hook was well 
 fastened, hekdme wherever he pleased. 
 G how fatal is the first deviation fh)m the 
 path of rectitude ! Thou^ it may pertiaps 
 appear so Iriiing as to be <lectaiied innocent, 
 yet, alarming tiiongte I it n wrapped up with 
 death and destruction^ and may terminate in 
 both. To set the subdety of this eaen^ ^f 
 souls in m clearer point of view, i wiH here 
 select one inslmce 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 the vow I had made 
 respecting card-playiug. A tliousand times 
 was it suggested to me Kiftt I Imd mad^ a 
 rash vow. I had not been long in the 
 country, bdbre my French acquaintance, 
 who «<aw 1 had an ea^er desire to learn the 
 language, used every argument to persuade 
 
m 
 
 Gradually Seduced 
 
 me to play at cards, ais the most effectual way 
 of learning the common conversation : but 
 I was not altogether so much off my guard 
 as to be foiled by the first attack. 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 
 imd at the card-table, while I obstinately 
 declined these amusements (at least the 
 cards), they "were caressed and esteemed, 
 whilst I was looked upon as a poor creature 
 who had no education, who did not know 
 the knave of clubs from the king of dia- 
 monds. 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 opera- 
 tion was so deeply laid, that 1 did not per- 
 ceive it till God by his Spirit opened my 
 eyes some years afterwards. And then by 
 looking back, as near as I can recollect, these 
 and the following methods the devil made 
 
to Cards and Gaming. 
 
 9^^' 
 
 use of to insnare me. My greatest conflicts 
 with this temptation were when I happened 
 to be the fourth person in a company of 
 select AriendS) and a party of cards was 
 proposed, when there was no possibility of 
 playing without me. Immediately followed 
 the most earnest solicitations, not to deprive 
 them of the pleasure of an innocent amuse- 
 ment. Perhaps two of the three would be 
 female acquaintance, for whom I had a 
 very sincere and tender regard. These 
 latter, with a thousand insinuating and 
 persuasive arts, would exert thieir utmost 
 skill to engage me to a compliance ; but 
 still I was enabled resolutely to resist and'*' 
 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; consequently I was every day an 
 eye-witness to card-playing. It sometimes 
 happened that one of the party being called 
 
94 
 
 Visits Hi6 ThetUre 
 
 i. 
 
 out of the room upon urgient bumness, 
 would, leave hia cards and money upon the 
 table, and earnestly, beg of me to take hia 
 hand till he returned. The other players 
 would back his solicitations^ and use all 
 the force of argpument to induce a com- 
 pliance. When lalleged.my vow (for by i 
 this time I had been obliged in my own 
 defence to acknowledge that I had' made a 
 very solemn one), they yery artfully told me 
 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 had only beggedi^ 
 of me to take them in his absence. Won, ; 
 alas! by this argument, I at last consented. 
 Conscience took the alarm, and grew cla^ 
 morous: I endeavoured to sUence it asi; 
 well as I could, by replying that 1 was not 
 playing for myself, but merely for the, 
 person who had left the room; This L did. 
 several times, till at last it happened that! 
 lost all the person's money for whom I, was 
 playing. He not returning during thi*>.j 
 run of bad luck, some of the company 
 would lend him money, and sometimes I 
 
even on Sundays^ 
 
 95 
 
 resoitted^to my own purse; till at length 
 the cjard^ grew so familiar to me by frequent 
 repetitions of this kind, and the itch for 
 gaming became so predominant ; that, pro- 
 ceeding from one step to another, I at last 
 persuaded myself that the vow I had for- 
 merly made was a very rash one, and not 
 no^r to be regarded. This reasoning suit- 
 ing iny ipclination, I broke through it with 
 little or no repiorse. Heaven left me to 
 myself. Satan seized the reins, and drove 
 me down the broad way to ruin ; till, in a 
 very short tiinei I ran to such a length that 
 not only, ieyery we^^ayv but almost every 
 sabbath-dfiy, for|^ or three years together, 
 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; 
 aud though, my conscience did not fail to 
 tell me it ought to be kept holy, and I was 
 even so far convinced of it as to admonish 
 others; yet so prevalent was the force of 
 example, that I swam down the torrent of 
 iniquity without interruption. It would be 
 too tedious to enter into a minute detail of 
 
96 
 
 Reads Deutical Writings. 
 
 V { 
 
 l!> !<i 
 
 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 %sX 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 second, with all that train of 
 soul-deceiving amusements, and (Carnal 
 pleasures beyond which Frenchmen 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, I received more real 
 injury from this, than from the other two 
 amusements. I kept a catalogue of the 
 books I read during my stay in France, 
 wliich amounted to about four hundred 
 volumes, chiefly French and Italian authors; 
 such as Voltaire, Rousseau, D'Alembert, ' 
 
EffectscfDeisHcal Reading. 97 
 
 Le Tasse, L'Arioste, &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 philosophical 
 notions, and I gradually lost sight of the 
 true religion, and all revealed truth ; so 
 that the grossest sins, which formerly 
 seemed heinous, now assumed a very diffe- 
 rent aepect, and appeared to be nothing 
 more than lawful gratifications. In short, 
 I was prepared by these emissaries of 
 Satan for the commission of almost any sin 
 to which occasion or inclination might lead 
 me. Not 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, I naturally concluded 
 they were all wrong. Still their poisonous 
 notions so infected my mind, that from 
 them I drew consequences of my own ; 
 plunged into an abstruse labyrinth of dia- 
 bolical reasoning, and gradually began to 
 doubt the authenticity of the Scriptures, 
 the immortality of the soul, and even the 
 existence of a God. Not that I ever 
 acted from the full persuasion there was 
 
m 
 
 Unhappjf Siaie »J'Mind 
 
 .\ ii 
 
 no God, IK) futui'e state, nor any truth 
 ill the Scripturoi*; but these things fie- 
 iiuently ttppearinjjf very dubious, 1 wus 
 kept iu u kiiul of perplexing uncertainty, 
 and acted from no principle at all, living 
 just as a wickeil heart and the " (iod of 
 this worM" chose to lead me. 1 well re- 
 member sutteriiig »i gi'eat deal about this 
 time, from the tormenting fears that my 
 soul would perish with my body. I saw 
 no evil in what Christiiins called sin, and 
 consequently had no dread on that account ; 
 besides, I hud made a God of my own 
 (when I could persuade myself there really 
 wus one), so merciful and so very kind, 
 that 1 thought if 1 could but be assured my 
 soul was immortal, 1 was pretty certain it 
 would be happy. Nay, 1 so much dreaded 
 the horrors of non-existence, that at times 
 I was ready to wish there might be a licU 
 of endless Utrmeut in which the soul should 
 live, rather than that it should die with the 
 body, and be buried in eternal night. 
 I ustd frequently to say to a friend, who 
 lived in the same house with me, that 1 
 would give any thing to know if my soul 
 
at thh Feriod, 
 
 m 
 
 were immortiil. Hie followinff free trniiHla- 
 tion* from my journal ooiituiiwthegf»iiuine 
 breuthiiigg of my houI, and K^iv<» a true 
 picture of the unhappy niwW. of my mind 
 at thiM period. *» 'J'he hiNt day of De. 
 comber (1768). The sun i» jnst «ot, and 
 f re it Rg«in tinges the top of yonikr 
 mountainB with its cheering rayw, tlie paHt 
 
 ♦ At thin time th« nnthor wroto liiii journal in Fnmch. 
 Thf original of the poMago, part of which ix \wtv. trtnn^ 
 Ifttwl, in giren, that it may be tieen with wlmt elegance 
 and freedom lie coiild exprcM himaeif in that language. 
 
 Avant que l'n«tre brillunt du jour ait dor^ letomntet 
 d«« montagnen derriere leHquelU il vient de ite toucher, 
 cette annce (courte portion de la vie huinnin«) ne lera 
 plwuu nombre de celle« que I'Etn; 8u,)r^me a de«ti«^ 
 d ««poroltre sur la scene, jwur menurer l« diir^e do 
 notre «ejour ici bns. Je ne puis done inieux employer 
 le peu qu'il en restc qu'A wiflechir sur la Hn de moii 
 existence qui s'approclie avec tant de rapiditc. Mille 
 doutes s'ek-vent tour a tour dans mon Ame et me font 
 trembler ! J'ignore ce que je suis ; encore plus ce que 
 je dois 6tre. Si la mort doit detruirc cette partie en 
 moi qui pense, qui raisonne, et qui desire, avec tout 
 dardour, d'^tn; assurer d« son existence dans ua Ctat 
 I'utur, je suiH iin etre bieii mcprinable A ines piopns 
 yeux, au deltt <le toute cxppe«.ion niolheureux ! Si 
 mon Ame n'est qu'uiK. orgiitie du cor].* plus delicate- 
 
 f2 
 
i, i 
 
 100 Touching Sceptical Extract 
 
 year (short portion of human life !) will no 
 more be reckoned among the number 
 of those which the Supreme Being hag 
 destined to measure the duration of our 
 abode in this world 1 I cannot then better 
 employ the little that remains of it than in 
 seriously reflecting upon the end of my ex- 
 istence, which approaches with such con- 
 
 ment arrangte, dor.t les resorts nous sont meconnus. 
 mais qui doit tomber en poussiere avec les autres, et 
 rentrer duns le neant, que je dois raaudire le jour qui 
 m'a vCi n^ltre. et que je dois entretenir une idee 
 bieu pffr^ypntP *le celui qui ne ro'a done de la faculte 
 de peuser que pour me f^ire mieux cpncevoir sa toute 
 puissance exerpee ppur causer mon paalheur. O mort ! 
 8i ton pouvoir s'etend jusqu'a ce point, que j'ai bien 
 lieu de te redouterl perdre tout d'un coup me 
 esperances flatteuses d'une immortalite 1 Tomber 
 dans un moment de cet etat de perfection o^ je me 
 pla9oi» apres cette vie, d^s toutes les horreurs du 
 neant! Quel horrible changement! Se peut-il, 
 Grfind Dieu ! que tu nous aies forme de la sorte ?— 
 Npn. Hegarder I'homme duns ce point de vue c'est 
 t'ontragpr ; un pareil ouvrage n'est jamais ^orti de tes 
 mains. Ta bonte se manifeste dans tout ce que tu as 
 fait; I'homme sera-t-il le seul objet de ta hame? 
 N'esttu pas I'auteur de son existence? Lm refuser 
 ramour paternel n'est pas compatibles avec ton essence. 
 C'est ton image ; et tu I'aimes, vOila la source mepui»- 
 
 il 11 
 
ftom his Journal. 
 
 101 
 
 ? 
 
 1 
 
 slant rapidity. A thousaud doubts arise, 
 one after another, in my soul, and make me 
 tremble ! Ignorant of \\ihat I 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 
 
 able de ma consolation. C'est 1^ ce que me soutient 
 dans tous les revers de la vie. Viens maintenant, 
 o mort, quand tu voudras, toutes les horreurs ne m'ef- 
 frayent plus ! Mon Createur m'aime. II a place en 
 moi lui-m^me un desir ardttit apres Timmortalite. II 
 doit le satisfaire un jour, ou tromper un malheureux 
 qui ne se tie qu'en lui, mais conime il est incapable de 
 tromper je n'ai que des sujets de rejouissance tout 
 autour de moi. La brievete de la vie dont je me 
 plaignois si amerement me menera plut6t dans le sein 
 de la beatitude apr^s (pour) laquelle j'ai tant soupir^. 
 La mort que j'ai tant redbutee n'est que la barriere qui 
 m'en separe, une fois rompue, toutes mes craitites 
 seront dissipees, et tous mes malheurs finis ! Insenses 
 que nous sommes ! nous voyons la plupart des choses 
 'k rebours. Ce que nous desirons le plus est souvent ce 
 qui nous est le plus pernicieux ; et ce que nous fuyons 
 avec tant de soin, nuit rarement a nos veretables in- 
 terets. Helas ! dans ce monde nous marchons dang 
 le tenebres, au dela du tombeau tout est clarete. 
 
102 
 
 
 11 
 
 ji 
 
 Seeks Happiness 
 
 do I appear in my own eyes ! Beyond all 
 expression miserable ! If my soul is no- 
 thing more than an organ of my body 
 more delicately wound up, whose secret 
 and wonderful movements lie beyond the 
 reaeh of human conception, but which 
 notwithstanding will one day mouldar into 
 dust with the rest, and return to its primi- 
 tive nothing — how much reason have I to 
 curse the day in which I was born ! And 
 what a horrid idea I must 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 ex- 
 tends 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 arguments to prove the immor- 
 tality of the soul, and drew a species of real 
 
in the Paths of Dissipation. 103 
 
 comfort from them; but my doubts and 
 fears were far from being* removed : they 
 frequently returned to grieve me, and per. 
 haps would have been more intolerable 
 had I not drowned them in pleasure and 
 dissipation. This was a sad remedy ; but 
 I 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 the sea of sinful levity and 
 worldly 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 inabi- 
 lity to administer one single grain of sub- 
 stantial happiness. It may, and too often 
 does, silence for a while, the unM'elcome 
 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 and laughter, but 1 
 never could find it stand the test of one 
 hour's serious reflection. In health, without 
 the restraints of religion it is next to im- 
 

 104 
 
 Continues ignorant 
 
 possible to withstand its allurements. In 
 sickness its aspect is deformed and disgust- 
 ing, and the thought of it gives pain instead 
 of 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 un- 
 sullied pleasure which flows from a life of 
 faith in the Son of God ! In the hour of 
 trial it will stand the 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 portion 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 wortd con- 
 tinually indulge, engrossed all my attention. 
 I was firmly persuaded that if happiness 
 was to be found in this world, it nuist be in 
 such a life. Satan had so effectually 
 
of his real Condition, 
 
 105 
 
 blinded my eyes in this and many other 
 tespects, 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, notwith- 
 standing I was thus far gone into sin, I con- 
 tinued to pray twice a day, and every morn- 
 ing 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 en- 
 gaged 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 of whist, or in a game 
 of billiards, that I have left off pronouncing 
 words, and never recollected what I was 
 about till some sudden turn in the game, 
 or unusual change of thought, would 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 
 
100 Proviihntittlly preserved 
 
 clear view of my daring provocations 
 ag^nst him, and of his unbounded mercy 
 in not cutting me off, when wilfully trans- 
 gressing his holy law ; or even in the midst 
 of such sinful prayers as these, I am £lled 
 with wonder and astonishment that I should 
 Jove him no more. It is the grief of my 
 ^ul that 1 cannot render 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 
 rebellion ag-ainst him, was I brought by 
 severe fits of sickness to the veiy briok of 
 the grave ! And yet a secret something, 
 which I could not then rightly comprehend, 
 sweetly whispered that \ 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 8, 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, 
 
 iii * 
 
Jrom a shocking Accident. 107 
 
 without my receiving the least hurt; though 
 any one, who witnessed the circumstance^ 
 must have concluded my death to be in- 
 evitable: and no doubt this would have 
 been my fate, if the hand of God had not 
 interposed. Surely his fatherly care was 
 evidently shewn towards me in repeated 
 instances of this kind ; but in nothing so 
 much as in bringing me out of that dread- 
 ful state of security and sin into which I 
 was voluntarily plunged. The gracious 
 work, from first to last, was entirely his 
 own. He rejected my plan, and used 
 another of his own appointment. There- 
 fore I shall endeavour to be particuhir in 
 this part of my narrative ; and may the whole 
 glory redound to Him to whom alone it is 
 due. About two years before I was delivered 
 from this worse than Egyptian bondage, 
 the Lord implanted in my heart such a 
 strong desire to return to my native country, 
 that nothing could divert my thoughts 
 from the subject ; that 1 had little or no 
 relish for most of those carnal pleasures, in 
 which I formerly took so much delight. 
 1 retired from company, and grew mopish 
 
108 
 
 Very solicitous 
 
 and melancholy. But when, like the pro- 
 digal, I came seriously to consider about 
 ways and means to return to my earthly 
 father's house (for as yet I had no desire to 
 return to my heavenly Father), I became 
 completely miserable, from the seeming 
 impossibility of ever accomplishing my 
 desires. 1 grieved and pined so much from 
 this melancholy reflection, that my health 
 began to be greatly impaired : I did not, 
 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 become intolerable. 
 The principal obstacle that lay in the way, 
 was my pecuniary embarrassment. 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 essentially hurting him- 
 self and family, it was not in his power 
 fully to extricate me. I was fooHsh enough 
 to attempt to save a sufficiency for this 
 purpose out of my half-pay ; but a very 
 short time convinced me, that that, with 
 the greatest possible economy, was hardly 
 
to return to England. 
 
 109 
 
 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 suc- 
 ceeding, till at length the fancied Babel 
 came tumbling down about my ears, and 
 almost buried me in the ruins. By con- 
 stantly dabbling 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 flatr 
 tering hopes than either of the others. It 
 not only promised to procure me the 
 necessary assistance, but puffed me up 
 with imaginary notions of honour and of 
 gaining a shining name in the literary 
 world. Spurred on by these prevailing 
 motives, it is surprising what 1 went 
 tiirough in a close application to study for 
 the space of a year and a half, in order to 
 accomplish my design. Perhaps few En- 
 
i* M 
 
 110 In ordi^r to discharge hit Dchts^ 
 
 glinhmen t^vor gave tlieiiuelveB half the 
 troulile 1 did to iicquire a thorough kiiow- 
 ledg'f of the Frtnich iauguagc. Many u 
 moritiiig has the rising Miin found me worn 
 out with poring over my grammar and 
 othf r rudinientit of this tongue : — Till by 
 perusing mioh numhers, and making my 
 own comments upon them, ibr three or 
 fouryearei, 1 ind»ibed the true spirit of them 
 ail ; and having, from a constant and exten- 
 sive coriYspondence, acquired some accu- 
 racy of style and facility of expression, 1 
 begtui to write short Essays on vtu*ious sub- 
 jects, both in prose and verst*, particularly 
 tlie latter, of which I was very fond. Some 
 of tliese l>eiug handetl about among my 
 aci^uaintance were generally applauded ; 
 more 1 believe from French politeness, than 
 because they really merited it. This how- 
 ever had such an eflfect on my vain mind, 
 as urged me not only to continue com- 
 posing, but now and then to publish some 
 pieces in the periodical pamphlets that 
 were constantly teeming from the press. 
 These being generally well received, ! was 
 induced to look a little further still, and 
 
•» 
 
 determines to write a Tragedy . Ill 
 
 from anunecdote iu the hiutory of Scotland, 
 luid the pittii of u traj^cdy . 1 contrived the 
 plot, fixed upon the charactcrH, raenuiired 
 the acts, sketched out Mouie of the »cene», 
 &(!., without any intention at first of making 
 it a fininhcd piece ; but wlien I shewed it 
 to 8oine very intimate friends, Uiey ad- 
 vised me to execute the phiii 1 ha<l so ac- 
 tmrately laid doMU ; and painted, in such a 
 pleasing manner, not only the profit, but 
 thf great honour that would accrue to me 
 from such a performance, that 1 was in- 
 duced to commence the work immediately, 
 big witli the most sanguine hopes that in a 
 very short time 1 should be able, by the 
 strength of my own genius, to work out a 
 glorious deliverance from that state of 
 bondage into which my own folly had 
 brought me. Poor, proud, insignificant 
 worm! This empty bubble supported me 
 for eighteen months, and kept me all that 
 time so constantly writing, that a severe 
 pain in my breast was the consequence, 
 which I feel to this very hour, and pro- 
 bably shall through life. Wlien I had 
 finished tL\is mighty work, from which 
 
112 
 
 After much Suspense 
 
 such great things were expected, I gave it 
 to be corrected by a great connoisseur in 
 the French language, who found such a 
 number of faults in it, and advised me to 
 make so many alterations and amendments, 
 that the second effort proved full as labo- 
 rious as the first. But the hopes of success 
 supported a weak body, and carried me 
 quite through it. I then sent my Tragedy, 
 completely finished, as I imagined, to be 
 perused by an author at Paris, well known 
 there among men of letters, for his inge- 
 nious works. To his judgment I thought 
 I might safely submit, and it proved so 
 favourable, that I was quite elated, and 
 thought myself sure, not only of its ap- 
 pearing, but succeeding on the stage. How- 
 ever, before this, I was advised to give it 
 another revisal, which, though loath, I 
 was obliged to do. In short, after much 
 fatigue and labour, it was put into the 
 hands of Monsieur le Kain, the first actor 
 and manager of the theatre at Paris, 
 where it remained several weeks, I all that 
 time su tiering the most excruciating sus- 
 pense. At last the fatal sentence arrived, 
 
Jinds his Tragedy rejected. 113 
 
 couched in a few words :— That though 
 there were some well executed scenes in it ; 
 there was also a stiffness of style, and 
 many other blemishes, which would hinder 
 its succeeding on the stage/' This stunned 
 me like a stroke of thunder. The disap- 
 pointment was so great, I was hardly able 
 to bear up under the intolerable load of 
 grief that fell upon my mind, especially 
 when my friend wrote me word from Paris, 
 that unless I would give the manager money, 
 and bribe some of the other principal 
 actors, there would be no prevailing with 
 them to bring my piece on the stage, even 
 though it were preferable to many that 
 were brought forward. This was a finish- 
 ing blow ; cut off all hope, and rendered 
 every future attempt of amendment alto- 
 gether needless. It was money I wanted, 
 I had none to give away. I have been the 
 more particular in relating every little in- 
 cident concerning this matter, because by 
 it I was reduced to the lowest possible dis- 
 tress. My body pained and emaciated; 
 my soul bowed down under tlie weight of 
 the most pungent sorrow, with the dismal 
 
114 
 
 Prospects opened 
 
 prospect before me of perishing at last in a 
 strange land, far from every one that was 
 near or dear to me. O the boundless 
 mercy of that Being who beheld me in this 
 woeful plight, and graciously brought me 
 relief! While all my airy projects were 
 ending in disappointment, he was plan- 
 ning effectual means for my deliverance ; 
 and just at the very crisis when my soul 
 was sinking under its grief, and the balm 
 of comfort wa« most wanted, he was at 
 hand to administer it. For nearly the space 
 of two years before this, by the close 
 application I gave to writing, and an 
 irresistible bias to a melancholy disposition, 
 I had willingly dropped the greatest part 
 of my worldly acquaintance, especially 
 those of my own nation, and had formed a 
 resolution to contract no new connection 
 with any of them that might afterwards 
 come to the place. But God had deter- 
 mined otherwise, and my weak resolves 
 were soon thrown down to make way for 
 him to work. A gentleman that lived in 
 the same house, importuned me from day 
 to day to visit an English lady, who had 
 
€f ultimate Relief. 
 
 115 
 
 been some time in the town, whose com- 
 pany he assured me I should certainly like, 
 from the amiable qualities she possessed. 
 Prevailed on by his repeated solicitations, 
 I at last complied, and found her to be 
 really what he had described. Her sweet- 
 ness of temper, affability, and generous 
 and humane disposition, were so attractive, 
 that I could not forbear often repeating my 
 visits, till by degrees I became her most 
 secret bosom friend. My pride would 
 never suffer me to mention to her the un- 
 happy situation I was in, but her penetra- 
 tion piei-ced through a forced composure of 
 countenance to Uie latent grief that was 
 preying on my heart, and from some un- 
 guarded words dropped in conversation, she 
 guessed atthe real cause of my dejection, and 
 immediately determined (as she hassince told 
 me) to embrace the first favourable oppor- 
 tunity of removing it. Some months after- 
 wards she left tlie place to go to Italy, and 
 desired I would take care of a few trifling 
 things that were making for her in town, 
 for which she could not wait, promising to 
 send me money from Lyoos to pay for 
 
110 Through a Ladys Liberality 
 
 them. In a few weeks she sent me a con- 
 siderable sum to pay for her things, and in 
 the most engaging generous manner, in- 
 sisted on my making use of the overplus to 
 carry me to England. 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 travelling 
 home. O my soul, stop here and admire 
 the goodness, the exuberant goodness, of 
 that gracious Being, who, in infinite love, 
 sent this unexpected and seasonable supply 
 to the most undeserving of all his creatures ! 
 and that (as I have already 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 1 not love him ? Yes, O blessed 
 Jesus, under the influence of thy rich grace, 
 my soul, my body, my time, my talents, 
 and every thing I have, shall be wholly 
 devoted to thee. Having thus obtained the 
 means of returning home, I longed to set 
 
enabled to quit France. 
 
 117 
 
 off without a moment's delay ; but was 
 easily persuaded to stay a few weeks longer 
 for some of my countrymen, who proposed 
 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 sen- 
 sible of its mercy, I kneeled down on the 
 stones, and in a, very irreverent manner, 
 with my laughing companions around me, 
 thanked God for my deliverance. Happy 
 would it be for me, could I now feel im- 
 printed 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 
 rejoicing period. I know very well how it 
 was, but find it altogether beyond my 
 power to describe in any degree to my sa- 
 tisfaction. My confused brain was teem- 
 ing 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 
 
118 
 
 Cursortf JUvitw 
 
 height, I now looked upon m^'self as one 
 who, by dint of study and reflection, had 
 entirely shaken off the prejudices of educa- 
 tion, and got above the religion of the 
 country in which I was born. I seemed 
 free from the spirit of persecution, and did 
 not hate those wIk) firmly adhered to the 
 Christian iaith ; but I looked down upon 
 them with an eye of pity, as well-meaning 
 people who knew no better. My religion 
 I thought was now of the most refined 
 description, thoroughly purged from every 
 bigotted principle, and what all men of 
 sense would readily approve : though it 
 would puzzle an abler judgment than mijiQ 
 rightly to defiue what it was. I did not 
 rely on my own works for salvation, 
 neitlier did I trust to the merits of Jesus 
 Christ. I believe my chief prop for Hea- 
 ven 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 diSf 
 tinct voices, which sometimes forced me 
 
of his State of Mind, 
 
 119 
 
 alternately to listen to them, and even ob- 
 liged me to acknowledge the truth of what 
 tl ey said. The one an importunate 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 plea- 
 sure ; but I never could silence him alto- 
 gether. The other I listened to with de- 
 light, 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 sufl^r me to perish 
 in it. In this frame of mind, as nearly as 
 I can recollect, 1 arrived in England, after 
 having spent six weeks at Paris, at the time 
 of Louis the XVI.th's marriage, rolling in 
 every forbidden pleasure, and delighting 
 without remorse in all the sinful gratifica- 
 tions which that polluted city could present 
 
II 
 
 120 
 
 Returns to Scotland, 
 
 to its votaries. On my coining to London, 
 I was so surfeited 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 
 desire after any thing that was good. My 
 whole conduct and way of thinking were so 
 visibly different from what they were when 
 I left England, that all my former acquaint- 
 ance, especially those at Chatham, could 
 not forbear taking particular notice of the 
 change. They that feared God, saw it 
 with sorrow, and I believe prayed forme— 
 (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 Scotland, it was still worse. 
 A pious father and mother with sorrow of 
 heart,»oon remarked the melancholy change, 
 which I had not hypocrisy enough to con- 
 ceal. They so often repeated this expres- 
 
Parental Admonitions, 121 
 
 9ion ; " France has been your ruin," that 
 I beganseriously to reflect, whether it really 
 was so or not. Upon a strict examina. 
 tion 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 could not be right now, be- 
 cause nothing could be more clear than the 
 difference there was between the state of 
 my mind at that period and at the present. 
 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 car- 
 ried it with me to the grave, if grace had 
 not prevented. The chief cause why I 
 afterwards discarded it, was, that God 
 loved me, and would not let me keep it. 
 The repeated admonitions of my pious rela- 
 tives, 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 
 
122 
 
 Led to Partial 
 
 m 
 
 1 
 
 I! 
 
 increased, till at last I began to grow rest- 
 less and uneasy. I sometimes wished I 
 had never imbibed these pernicious prin- 
 ciples, which still retained their chief seat 
 in my heart. What seemed most to shake 
 my suspicions at this time, was the re- 
 membrance 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 1 was liable to run. The reflec- 
 tions 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 conception. So far from this, I 
 was led to believe it a thing almost impos- 
 sible : the whole bent of my mind ^o dia- 
 metrically opposite to a practical reception 
 of the truths revealed in the Gospel, that 
 had it not been for this secret hope that en- 
 couraged me, I never should have attempted 
 to search after them. 1 attended on the 
 
Self Inquiry. 
 
 123 
 
 means of grace. I read, I prayed, but 
 my heart remained just as hard and insen- 
 sible, 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 whichthe 
 Devil held me fast. The first things that 
 made any evident impression upon me, 
 were the pious letters of my Christian cor- 
 respondents ; though I could not then em- 
 brace what they advanced, yet I 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 reluctance, 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 per 
 mitted 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 
 
 
124 Progress of Self -conviction. 
 
 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 1 was ten times worse 
 than they at first imagined, prevented my 
 throwing stumbling-blocks in their way. 
 Though I was unwilling to yield to the 
 force of my correspondents' arguments, yet 
 I could not help being convinced that they 
 were agreeable to the word of God, and I 
 found they gained more and more upon 
 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 grievously 
 offended. Blessed be the name of the 
 Lord, he did not stop here. If he had, 
 these slight impressions would soon have 
 worn off, and I had now been either en- 
 during torment, or, what is next to it, 
 wallowing in sin. But his rich mercy fol- 
 lowed 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 
 
Ordered on Actual Service. 125 
 
 full salvatien by a crucified Redeemer. 
 I had been but a few months with my 
 friends in Scotland, when I was unexpect- 
 edly ordered upon actual service, and ob- 
 liged 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 pur- 
 poses of love towards me, which were ripen- 
 ing apace, and just ready to be manifested. 
 Some military business detained me in 
 London nearly two months, in which in- 
 terval, God was pleased to employ two very 
 powerful means to break asunder the 
 chains of darkness, by which Satan had 
 long led me " captive at his will." 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 uncom- 
 mon weight upon my mind, and a circum- 
 stance, somewhat remarkable, served to 
 render it still more affectrna. I received 
 the gloomy communication upon nearly 
 
126 Impressive Coincidence, 
 
 tlie same spcl where, seven or eight years 
 before, we had taken our last affectionate 
 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 beyond the 
 grave towards that awful and eternal state 
 into which my dear brother had just en- 
 tered. I now began in good earnest to see 
 the vanity and dangerous tendency of those 
 abominable and erroneous notions to which 
 I had tenaciously adhered for several years. 
 They now stood dressed in their proper 
 colours, and loudly proclaimed their dia- 
 bolical origin. A strong and restless de- 
 sire to be savingly united to God and his 
 people, drove them from the pi?ice they 
 held in my heart, and evidently prevailed 
 in their room. I saw the absolute neces- 
 sity there was of such a Saviour as Jesus 
 Christ, and was convinced 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 per- 
 ceiving in his glorious person any thing 
 that i thought wuuid ever attract my aifec- 
 
Remarkable Dream, 
 
 i2r 
 
 tions, I grieved and mourned and wept ; 
 being well persuaded, that unless I loved 
 Jesus Christ, there could be no hope of my 
 salvation. Besides, I was as yet under the 
 domineering power of sin, neither had the 
 Lord shewn me its heinous nature, nor 
 that most dreadful of all sights, my abomi- 
 nably 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 disconsolate 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 Almighty was 
 pleased to employ in bringing 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 lived many years 
 together. We remained silent for some 
 time, and then he asked me if 1 M'ould not 
 
128 
 
 Remarkable Dream 
 
 
 \i 
 
 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 top to the bottom, 
 like those in some fortified towns on the con- 
 tinent, was instantly let down more than 
 halfway, 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, 
 and consequently the passage became so 
 narrow that I found it altogether imprac- 
 ticable in that posture. Grieved to be left 
 behind, and determined to get in, if possi- 
 ble, I fell down on my hands, and tried 
 to squeeze my head and shoulders through ; 
 but finding myself still too high, I then 
 kneeled down, crept, wrestled, and pushed 
 
of salutary Tendency. 
 
 129 
 
 more eagerly, but all to no purpose. 
 Vexed to the last degree, yet unwilling to 
 be left outside, I came to the reso- 
 lution of throwing 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 in with 
 me. Then laying myself flat on my 
 face, I toiled and pushed and strove, 
 soiled my embroidered waistcoat, but 
 could not get in, after all. At last, driven 
 almost to despair, I stripped myself en- 
 tirely, 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 1 advanced a little, 
 1 continued 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 round to view the place, 1 saw 
 
I 
 
 130 His thorough Conversion, 
 
 a goodly company of saints (among whom 
 was my brother), all dresSed in the same 
 manner, partaking of the Lord's supper. 
 I sat down in the midst of them, and the 
 bread and wine being administered to me, 
 I felt such seraphic joy, such celestial 
 ecstacy, as no mortal can express. I heard 
 a voice call me three times by name, say- 
 ing 1 was wanted at home. My joy was so 
 great and overcoming, that it soon broke 
 asunder the silken bands of sleep, and 
 made me start up in my bed, singing the 
 high praises of God. 
 
 So much was I impressd by this remark- 
 able dream, that from this day I was en- 
 abled to begin an entirely new life, which 
 (as I advanced in the saving knowledge of 
 divine things) proved as different from the 
 life 1 had led for several years back as it is 
 possible any two opposites can be. Old 
 things were now done away, and all things 
 became new. Not that I obtained a com- 
 plete victory over my domineering sins all 
 at once, or renounced all my false opinions 
 in one day ; but a bitter and eternal war 
 was instantly declared against the one, and 
 
Attentive Perusal of the Bible. 131 
 
 as God made the discovery to me, I let go 
 the other. My mind was gradually en- 
 lightened to comprehend the glorious and 
 important truths of the everlasting gospel, 
 and the eyes of my understanding were so 
 opened to discern spiritual things, that I 
 now read my Bible with wonder and as- 
 tonishment. I paused almost at every 
 sentence, ruminating within myself; and 
 could hardly be persuaded whether or not 
 I had ever read many of the passages before, 
 so amazingly were they opened, and so 
 very different did the meaning of them ap- 
 pear to be from what I had previously 
 apprehended. The sweet and comfortable 
 impression which this dream left upon my 
 mind for many days, encouraged and in- 
 spired me with fresh vigour in the pursuit 
 of heavenly things. I now plainly saw I 
 had long strayed in the wilderness of error, 
 and was fully and delightfully convinced 
 the good Shepherd had found me out, and 
 was determined to carry me back again to 
 his fold. But what is very astonishing, I 
 did not yet perceive any sensible drawings 
 of affection after him, or feel in my heart 
 
132 
 
 Peculiar Vicissitudes 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 that love nnd delight which, blessed be his 
 name! I humbly trust, I have at times 
 since sweetly experienced. Nor, till nearly 
 a year afterwards, did I rightly conceive in 
 any adequate degree what was meant by 
 the intolerable burden of sin. But as the 
 Lord increased and strengthened my faith, 
 and shed abroad his love in my heart, sin, 
 that accursed thing, grew blacker and 
 blacker, till at last the sight became so 
 odious, that had not he first very tenderly 
 comforted me, I never could have borne 
 what I felt of it in my own breast. While 
 God continued gradually to initiate me in 
 the divine life, and graciously condescended 
 to give me brighter discoveries of his re- 
 deeming love, my spiritual enemies were 
 not inactive. Many secret and dangerous 
 snares were laid to entrap my soul, and 
 hinder my progress in the heavenly road ; 
 but the God of boundless love and pity, 
 who kindly beheld my critical situation, 
 not only kept them from hurting me, but 
 exerted in my beht>!f that power which is 
 peculiar to himself, of bringing good out 
 of evil. Many of Satan's schemes were 
 
tf the Christian Life* 
 
 133 
 
 deeply laid, but none of them beyond a 
 Saviour's penetrating eye ; or I had never 
 stood my ground. Among the repeated 
 attempts made by this subtle foe to over- 
 throw the work of grace in my soul, I will 
 mention but one as a specimen of the rest ; 
 to enumerate them all would be an endless 
 work. A few weeks after my dream, 
 though I had every reason to fear being sent 
 to the West Indies (as an officer who ex- 
 changed duties with me was), yet the Lord, 
 whose watchful eye was over me, so over- 
 ruled events, that I securely and speedily 
 fixed among my former pious friends and 
 acquaintance at Chatham, and td my 
 great joy at last, happily united to the 
 person I had loved for many years ; in 
 short, I was now more comfortably settled 
 in life than I had ever yet been ; freed 
 from the pressure of poverty, and a number 
 of other worldly cares and embarrassments, 
 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. Wrap- 
 ping me round in the comforts of this 
 
134 
 
 Kept from Swerving 
 
 
 world, he found an easy passage into my 
 corrupt heart, and insensibly drew away 
 my affections in an eager, restless desire 
 for the enjoyment of those poor, perishing 
 vanities. So deeply was my attention at 
 last engaged in this pursuit, and so effec- 
 tually had the God of this world blinded 
 the eyes of my understanding, that I not 
 only began to lose a relish for spiritual 
 things, and the believing view of heavenly 
 objects, but a thick veil was likewise 
 drawitig over all that the Lord had just 
 been doing for me ; and had not his grace 
 speedily prevented, I had undoubtedly 
 fallen a prey to the snare of the enemy, 
 and like Demas should entirely have 
 forsaken the cause of a crucified Sa- 
 viour. But I was suddenly aroused from 
 my spiritual lethargy with a friendly, but 
 severe stroke of this rod : so severe that to 
 this day I feel the smart of it in my body, and 
 probably shall carry the marks of it to my 
 grave. It was nothing more at first than a 
 little swelling on my neck about the size of 
 a nut, of which for some time I took little 
 or no notice, imagining it would go away, 
 
 ii 
 
hy^ timely Affliction. 
 
 135 
 
 as it came, without giving me any pain or 
 trouble. But God seeing it was high 
 time to afflict me, used this swelling as a 
 rod, causing it to increase to such a degree 
 that I was glad to have recourse to medical 
 advice; but without effect. 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 lio 
 getting at the bottom to heal it by any 
 outward application. It grew worse and 
 worse, threw me every now and then into 
 a fever, and by a constant 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 love intended should 
 flow from this affliction 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 
 
136 
 
 Benefits resulting 
 
 some comfortable hope of my eternal bliss 
 by Christ Jesus. The world, that gilded 
 vanity, which I had been sinfully hugging 
 in my bosom, till it had well nigh destroyed 
 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 moment upon it, and reso- 
 lutely determined for the future to give my 
 heart entirely to God, who had an indis- 
 putable right to it. The finger of 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 glory of his 
 grace), I really in some measure delighted 
 in my pain ; seemed to enjoy it as a valu- 
 able: 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 whetiier God 
 
from this Affliction, 
 
 1S7 
 
 ever loved me or not. Cursed sin I 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 allege 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 treasure is sanctified affliction. No 
 sooner did I feel the happy effects of it 
 upon my soul at this time, than I began 
 with more earnestness than ever to seek 
 after God. I longed for close communion 
 with him ; I delighted in his courts, and in 
 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 
 
138 
 
 Marks of Divine 
 
 others. The people of God, of every de- 
 nomination, poor or rich, now became to 
 me, " the excellent of the earth," in whom 
 was all my delight. I loved Jhem 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 effectuallv over- 
 thrown the massy bulwarks of infidelity, 
 which Satan had been continually strengh- 
 ening for the space of six years in my cor- 
 rupt heart, or have bent my vicious 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 likewise 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 all 
 the glory. Nothing but shame and confu- 
 won belongs to me, for having so ill re- 
 quited a God of such boundless compas- 
 
Tenderness and Care. 
 
 139 
 
 sion. He has done great things for me, 
 I have done but little for him in return, 
 yet still the same grace that began the 
 work, has I trust hitherto carried it on ; so 
 that I can say with the apostle, " 3y the 
 help of God, I continue unto this day." 
 Before I conclude this feeble attempt to 
 illustrate the freeness of Jesus*s love to the 
 most undeserving of all his creatures, I 
 will just mention a few more of those marks 
 of his tenderness and care iv' loh 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 
 Chrisitians, I frequently doubted the sound- 
 ness of my conversion, and consequently 
 the safety of my state, from not having 
 keenly felt what I so often heard them talk- 
 ing about — terrors of conscience, deep con- 
 victions 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 
 emotions. It was not long before these 
 
140 Effects resulting from 
 
 doubts and fears were graciously removed ; 
 but, as I have already hinted, in proportion 
 as the love of Christ increased in my soul, 
 a daily hatred to sin was excited. I gra- 
 dually saw the dreadful consequences that 
 attended it, and how odious it was in the 
 sight of a pure and holy God. At these 
 happy seasons when the Lord was pleased 
 to give me any singular manifestations of 
 his love, a holy tremor seemed to seize me, 
 lest I should do any thing that might 
 offend him. Whenever I was made sensible 
 of sinning, either by omission or commis- 
 sion, 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 ex- 
 perienced 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 me. It is a heavy burderi 
 under which I should soon sink if I did 
 not experimentally know that Jesus died 
 to save me from its reigning power, as well 
 
Satanic Temptations. 
 
 141 
 
 as from the punishment it deserves. There 
 was likewise another stumbling-block that 
 lay several months in my way, which God 
 in his own good time, in a very singular 
 manner, was graciously pleased to remove. 
 Undeserving as I am, he frequently blessed 
 me in the use of the means of grace — par- 
 ticularly under the ministry of his word. 
 But that pure and inexpressible joy which 
 at those happy seasons made me pour con- 
 tempt upon the world, and lifted me up 
 almost to the third heaven, was too often 
 snatched from me in an instant by the 
 artful insinuations and suggestions of that 
 grand deceiver, who never tires in per- 
 plexing God's people. He insisted that 
 my feelings proceeded from noticing more 
 than the eloquence of the preacher; the 
 well-timed introduction of some applicable 
 and affecting simile ; the solemnity of the 
 occasion ; or the simple, but nervous and 
 sublime style of the Scriptures, operating 
 separately or unitedly on the natural dis- 
 position of the animal frame, melting me 
 into teal's, or exciting pleasing sensations, 
 according to the then state of my mind. 
 
142 
 
 Temptations baffled 
 
 To strengthen and enforce this plausible 
 argument, the arch-fiend would boldly ap- 
 peal to my own experience, and in tri- 
 umphant language (as having quite non- 
 plussed his weak antagonist), he would ask 
 me the following questions : " Have you 
 not felt the very same sensations when an 
 eloquent actor in a masterly manner de- 
 livered some noble and lofty sentiment? 
 Or when an affecting scene has been well 
 executed? And when you have been 
 reading romances, have you not frequently 
 shut the book, unable to proceed, till you 
 had dried up a flood of pleasing tears ? 
 Nay, more than all this, how often have 
 the lloman-catholic preachers in France 
 ihade you weep when you could not pos- 
 sibly assent to what they delivered ? Were 
 those sensations of a divine nature ? Surely 
 not! Neither have you any right to con- 
 clude that these are which you now ex- 
 perience." To this bold assertion I could 
 give no satisfactory reply, only I could not 
 help entertaining a secret thought that 
 there was still some essential difference 
 between the fleeting emotions of soul which 
 
htf Spiritual Comforts, 
 
 143 
 
 these imaginary subjects occasioned, and 
 that pure and heartfelt joy which I some- 
 times experienced under the word of God, 
 and other means of grace ; but where that 
 difference lay, I could not then distinguish, 
 nor could I in any satisfactory manner 
 make it out clearly to myself, that these 
 inexpressible and heavenly effusions of soul, 
 which led my mind and affections to God, 
 flowed from the operation of his Holy 
 Spirit: consequently I reaped but little 
 comfort from them, and this the enemy, by 
 his artful suggestions, instantly deprived 
 me of, by calling them all in question, and 
 filling my mind with perplexing doubts. 
 But a compassionate Redeemer, privy to 
 my distress, after a few months bondage,* 
 judging it full time to break the snare, 
 brought double confusion on the devices 
 of Satan, while he graciously and most 
 effectually set my soul at liberty, by the 
 following means : — 
 
 The 24th March, 1772, the Rev. Mr. 
 P — ^y preached at the place of worship 
 where I used constantly to attend, and 
 afterwards administered the sacrament of 
 
144 
 
 Interesting Experience, 
 
 the Lord's supper. Having seldom failed 
 to receive a blessing from his ministry, 
 and having been greatly favoured during 
 the past week with the presence of God in 
 my soul, I now entered into his courts with 
 praise, enjoying that peace and serenity of 
 mind which the world, with all its plea- 
 sures, could never give me. I concluded 
 I should certainly meet with my Saviour 
 in this feast of his own appointing; ex- 
 perience inexpressible delight in nearer 
 communion with him, and come away re- 
 joicing. But, alas ! how empty and un- 
 certain are the most sanguine hopes of 
 man 1 God*s ways are not at all like our 
 ways. He lifts up and he casts down, just 
 when he pleases, though it be all in love to 
 our souls, and for the manifestation of his 
 own glory. I continued during the word 
 preached in the same comfortable frame 
 with which I entered. Christ was precious, 
 and I longed and panted, and securely 
 hoped, to have still clearer views of him in 
 the sacrament. But no sooner had Mr. 
 P — y begun to prav than such a sudden 
 gloomy horror overspread my mind as no 
 
 iPciP!i 
 
Interesting Experience » 145 
 
 language can express. I appeared to 
 myself more like a fiend of darkness than a 
 candidate for mercy. I really was quite 
 frightened and knew not what to do, 
 trembling at every joint for fear I should 
 blaspheme my Creator. So soon as I was 
 enabled inwardly to express myself, this 
 was my only cry ; " Lord, let me not curse 
 thee ! Lord, let me not curse thee !" No 
 human tongue can describe the anguish of 
 soul and despondency of mind 1 suffered. 
 In the midst of this sullen horror, I cast 
 my eyes round upon the people of God, 
 and saw them drowned in a flood of holy 
 tears; and, listening to the voice of the 
 minister, I think I never in my life heard 
 such force of expression ; such neiTous 
 and rapturous eloquence, or such fervent 
 breathing after a blessing. It seemed as if 
 by holy violence he Mould bring down 
 heaven into the place. And yet, though I 
 listened again and again, I still remained 
 obdurate and insensible. At last a secrtt 
 voice from within, in a language more 
 plain and distinct than an audible one, 
 thus accosted me : " Where is the eloquence 
 
 u 
 
146 
 
 Spiritual Trials 
 
 6f fhe preacher now ? >Vhere now Aat 
 beauty of style ; that all harmonious purity 
 of diction which you foolishly imagined 
 capable of procuring that internal ipieace 
 and heavenly joy of which you are now 
 totally bereft t Oi ivhai use is force of 
 argument, affecting simiiles, or all the 
 rhetoric of that pious prayer now sounding 
 in your eare, without the aM-quickening 
 influences of the Holy Spirit? Can yon 
 now in such a distressing moment as the 
 present, receive comfort from thiem ? 
 Listen, and try ; or rajthcr, dread to tempt 
 an offended God, and from this day for- 
 ward, learn never more to call in question 
 the benign operation of that blessed agent 
 upon your doubting soul !" Struck 
 with this seasonable admonition finom an 
 awakened conscience, my horror of aimd 
 in a great measure began to subside. Re- 
 flecting that this might have been brought 
 tupon me to remove the doubts I had so 
 long entertained of the powerful influence 
 of the Holy Spirit, I took courage, and 
 repeating several titties, " Lord, I'll doiibt 
 no more," went with trembling knees and 
 
during Sa^rmnenf. 
 
 147 
 
 Htt acl^ng heart to receive the holy e^m. 
 munioii« I remained, however, cold and 
 unaffected during the administration of the 
 ordinance ; and, though determined never 
 to doubt again in the sinful manner I had 
 done for some time past, I returned home 
 in a veiy different frame of mind ftom th^t 
 with which I entered t^ chapel, l^ut, 
 alas ! it was a very short time before this 
 diabolical spirit i^tttrned, and took as fast 
 hold of my wicked heart as ever. So fast 
 that this recent testimony of the Almighty 
 against it was not sulSicient to dispossess 
 it. Whe« I alleged it in my defence, 
 Satan immediately insinuated, " It was 
 but a neigative proof at best, and could 
 have no great weight in deciding the 
 matter." In short, like Gideon of old, I 
 would not be convinced until | hJ^d seen 
 the fleece both wet and dry (Judges xi. 
 36-40). 
 
 O ! my soul, here pause and reflect oa 
 the wonderful compassion of that God 
 who graciously condescended to pity thine 
 infirmity, and give thee a fresh and more 
 convincing proof of his sovereign goodness 
 
 h2 
 
148 
 
 Iff' 
 
 I 
 
 Another Struggle 
 
 by shewing, beyond a doubt, the certainty 
 of his Spirit's operation on the hearts of 
 his chosen people in all ages ! 
 
 Having, though brought up a presby- 
 teriE/j., H firm belief in the doctrines, and a 
 siroTTg ittachment to the liturgy, of the 
 church of England, on the 19th April fol- 
 lowing (1772), being Easter-Sunday, I went 
 to a neighbouring" parish church, where, 
 unfortunately, the doctrines of the church 
 were not taught from the pulpit, and but 
 languidly read from the desk* The sacra- 
 ment was to be administered that day, 
 which, for many reasons, I had no thought 
 of receiving. But God, who over-rules 
 all things, ordered it otherwise for my 
 special good, and for his own glory. To- 
 wards the close of the service, batan, that 
 busy insnaring foe, accosted my mind in 
 language something similar to the follow- 
 ing: " Ah, you are in the right to avoid 
 communicating here. Here is no Mr. 
 P — *s eh quence, or heavenly fervour in 
 prayer to move your passions. No tears 
 shed by the communicants within these 
 Avails to make your^ flow. No feeling 
 
with Satanic Suggestions, 149 
 
 what you are pleased to call the operations 
 of the Holy Spirit in such a formal place 
 as this. For you know, and dare not deny, 
 that you never were once blessed under 
 the ministry of the word here, as you 
 have been elsewhiere ! Were you now to 
 make the experiment, and kneel down at 
 the Lord's table, you would find yourself 
 altogether cold, lifeless, and unaffected : 
 a plain and demonstrative proof that the 
 pleasing sensations you somietimes ex- 
 perience at meeting, are merely the effect 
 of passions worked up into a more than 
 ordinary warmth, owing chiefly, perhaps, 
 to the minister's working up his oWn to 
 such a violent degree and thereby inflaming 
 a number more, as susceptible as yourself 
 — all deceived alike. There is no such 
 thing as being influenced by the Spirit of 
 God now ; that privilege Cjsased with the 
 apostles, and it is mere presumption to 
 think you can in these latter days know or 
 feel the operations of that divine Agent 
 upon your mind." 
 
 Grieved to find the enemy of my soul 
 thus tempting me, and my corrupt heart 
 
 H.3 
 
150 Conquest over Temptation 
 
 giving tdo great credit to wbat lie alleged, 
 I leaned my head down upon the pew, and 
 prayed fervently to God that he would in 
 mercy rebuke this subtle adr^rsary, and 
 dcKver me from his thraldom ; that if it 
 were agreeable to his will, he would pre- 
 pare me, an unprepared guest, and I would 
 humbly venture to approach his holy table 
 in hopes of meeting with a blessing there, 
 contrary to the lying insinuations of my 
 ■enemy. An in>vard feeling of approbation 
 urged me to go. I was not disobedient to 
 this jseeret impulse, but went with a 
 huiDble, though sanguine, hope of seising 
 by the eye of fliith, that (S^w Redeemer 
 whose death I was now about to commemo- 
 rate. I was n<yl disappointed. Happy! 
 thrice happy day ! O may it be marked 
 «B h sacred memorial of the superabundant 
 goodness of an indulgent God towards an 
 ungrateful, rebellious creature. O, the 
 heavenly joy and internal peace I this 
 day experienced ! No moital tongue can 
 fully express it. I could say, the flesh of 
 Christ (in a qiiritual sense) was " meat 
 indeed," and his blood " drink indeed." 
 
 I 
 
follawed % Enjoyment, \%>\ 
 
 Firmly pei?su*ded he had laid dpwn his 
 life for i»e, I fQund my cup ru» over. 1 
 could hardly refrain fvompvblioly bre^liing 
 mi in his pi-«ise as \ ^a|k«d along the 
 streets, and vh^n I got home eiitere<l my 
 room and shut the door, O, whp,t ^ fl^^qd 
 Qf pleasing tf ars composed my prayer ! 1 
 could haifdly for some time utt^r two di»^ 
 tinci ^ojMis together. The j&rs^ cpherenl^ 
 sentence I pro»ounce4 was *^ Indeed, Lord, 
 by thy grace, I will never doubt any 
 more," "• L^r^, help me;" . An4 hitherto 
 he haa sq an^were^ my pr^y«r» %t I have 
 no mwe dfluhts froflii this qq^rt^r. Satap, 
 thqii^h very bqsy i*:ith me in qther rer 
 spectfti seems ^ it ii»feye ^h^ined or afrai4 
 tQ assault ipe here. For m^any w^s ^fte? 
 this remarkable cpnfliet, 1 \yaHj;e4 in •• the 
 light of God's cow«tewanee," enioyi^g a 
 heaven upon earth. 
 
 As 1 have ev^ry reason to praise Go4 
 for the peculiar favours just mentioned, so 
 ought I also to bless and magnify his holy 
 name as the hearer and answerer of prayer 
 generally. I can boldly say, frpm wy 
 heart, I have truly fbund him such, and 
 
1$2 
 
 Prayer answered 
 
 1 
 
 III 
 
 1 
 
 ■ IGI 
 
 H 
 
 1 11 
 
 B 
 
 ■ ^ 
 
 II 
 
 i 
 
 never more so than when he has refused 
 a direct and immediate grant of my peti- 
 tions. 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 will 
 just mention one instance of this kind as a 
 specimen of many, previously observing 
 that when clear views of divine truth were 
 first imparted to me, I frequently prayed 
 that whenever he called me to embark in a 
 man-of-war (that dreadful abode for a 
 Christian, which I had lonff inhabited), I 
 might even there find some serious person 
 to converse with, who, by good advice, 
 and a pious example, might be the means 
 of preventing me from falling. But this 
 prayer I had for some time neglected to 
 offer up, and indeed had entirely forgotten ; 
 though God had not, a» will be seen by the 
 sequel. About forty years ago, when I 
 was a subaltern in the royal marine corps, 
 two other officers a/id myf^elf were ordered 
 to embark, one in each of the three guard- 
 ships then stationed in the Midway. Two 
 of them lay close to the Dock-yard, afford. 
 
by apparent Rejection, 153 
 
 ing* at all times easy access to the shore ; 
 but the other, the Resolution of 74 guns, 
 was moored half way down the river, to- 
 wards Sheerness, from whence in winter 
 and bad weather it was troublesome to 
 land, and sometimes impracticable. For 
 t^is reason it was natural for each of us to 
 wish for one of the Chatham ships, and 
 strong interest was accordingly made by us 
 respectively, with the commanding officer 
 for this purpose. But he finding he must 
 necessarily disoblige one of the three, or- 
 dered us to attend the parade next morning, 
 and draw lots tor 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 thai if I really was a 
 child of God, he would grant my request- 
 since the "• lot thus cast into the lap" was 
 wholly at his disposal ! The important 
 morning came, and 1 drew the dreadeii 
 
 115 
 
154 
 
 But answered in Truth 
 
 ship, down the river. Had I drawn my 
 death ti^airant, I hardly think it would 
 have affected me more. My pra^r 
 n-as now apparently rejected, and the 
 enemy of souls taking advantage of the 
 agitated state of joay depraved heart, easily 
 made me draw the conclusion, that either 
 il was no Christian, or that God paid 
 no attention to those who professed to be 
 such. In this gloomy desponding state, 
 like a criminal going to execution, I em- 
 barked the same forenoon in His Majesty *«s 
 ship Resolution, lying iu a dreary part of 
 the Medway, about two or three miles 
 from Sheerness. I had just time to be in- 
 troduced to the officers in the ward.room, 
 when dinner came in. The third Lieu- 
 tenant happening to be caterer that week, 
 ofcoui-se stood up at ;he head of the table, 
 and asked a blessing ; but with so much 
 seriousness as quite astonished me ; for 
 being well acquainted with the customs of 
 the ward-room in a king's ship, 1 had 
 never heard any thing of the kind so so- 
 lemnly pronounced there before, and I 
 determined to mark every word tlmt pro- 
 
hyi a rmi Bfessii^g, 
 
 155 
 
 ciee^e^ from tha|; gentleman's |ips, in the 
 hopie of hearing sonif^thing that niight en* 
 able mie to ascei^aiii |[iis character: nothing 
 decisive occurred during dinner, but no 
 sooner wa$ tl]^ yvine placed upon the table, 
 than he wae attacked by several of his 
 messmates oq his religious sentiments, ancf 
 80on discovere4 that he bore the genuine 
 marks of f^ true Christian, by his judicious 
 reproofs, and the very able manner in 
 which he cpnfu|ted ajl their infijicl argur 
 memts. Wiffhing, I suppose, to know what 
 spirit I was of, they frequently appealed to 
 me for the truth of what they advanced ; 
 but having always decided against them, 
 1 was imperceptibly drawn into the dispu- 
 tation on the side of iJie caterer. When 
 the allowance of wine was drunk (for ijt 
 was a sober well regulated mess) the purser 
 rose Jwid broke up the company, exclaim- 
 ing with an oath. " Our new messmate is 
 us great a Methodist as Tomlinson*. I 
 
 
 * Lieuteiuuit Toqalinson woh a pious, sensible, and 
 well informed man, tljen well known in tl^ .jCluistJan 
 world. He was long a commander in the n^vy. 
 
156 
 
 The same Prayer 
 
 smiled, well pleased to be associated with 
 such a man. As two needles touched with 
 the loadstone, when they fall near to eadh 
 other among chaff, will soon come toge- 
 ther, so this Methodist Lieutenant and I 
 myself speedily came into contact. After 
 having exchanged a few questions, we went 
 down to his cabin in the gun-room, had an 
 hour's comfortable conversation, and con- 
 cluded with prayer, although a few hours 
 before we had never seen one another's 
 faces. This singular circumstance could 
 not fail to bring to my recollection, the 
 prayer I had so culpably forgotten, now 
 completely granted, and I began to be re- 
 conciled to the 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 
 
 would have been high among the admirals, had he not 
 disobliged the Admiralty of that time, by publishing 
 • plan for manning the navy without pressing, which 
 that Boar«! would not countenance, I enjoyed his 
 friendiiup fc^ many years. 
 
completely answered. 157 
 
 from the Admiralty, to send the Resolution 
 up to Chatham, and one of the ships there 
 to 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 favour- 
 ing, M'e weighed, and came to an anchor 
 off the Dock-yard before two o'clock. Thus 
 my prayer at first, apparently rejected, was 
 now completely answered, but it was in 
 the Lord's way. Had mine been attended 
 to, and I had drawn the ship that 
 afterwards went down the river, I should 
 have been miserable. So true it is, 
 we " know not what to pray for as we 
 ought." 
 
 'As God had thus bee i very merciful in 
 not granting my requests in my own way ; 
 so likewise has he been remarkably gra- 
 cious at other times, in hearing and an- 
 swering my petitions. An instance or two 
 will be sufficient to establish this soul- 
 comforting truth. Some time ago, finding 
 my heart and affections (as alas! I too 
 frccpiently have done since) very much 
 carried away after the perishing things of 
 
 M 
 
Ifl^ Other Examples 
 
 the world, my zeal abating, and my lovfe 
 fw ^iritual thiags growing cold and I^- 
 guid, and, of course, my joy and peact in 
 believing almost entirely vanished, I tried 
 every means to remove the growing evil ; 
 went from duty to duty, wade resolution 
 upoa resolution, wrestled aad prayed, but 
 all to no purpose. The love of the world 
 seemed to prevail ov<er the love af Chrjst. 
 At last, weighed down under the heavy 
 burden, and almost ready to give over, I 
 prayed fervew^y to C?od, ik^t as hp had 
 fojrmerly blessed afilietions to me in this 
 respect, I should now be willing, were it 
 consistent with his will, that he should use 
 that means to disentangle my heart A'<W» 
 the world, arijal direct it to the proper ob- 
 ject of it^ love. The very next day, I was 
 laid up with a fever, and before I recor 
 vered, the world in a great measure lost 
 for a time its alluring charms. I am far 
 from justifying this method of prescribing 
 to the Lord ; but in this instance it is 
 evident he heard my prayer. 
 
 At another time I prevailed upon one of 
 my brother office »«», a most notorious 
 
 III 
 
 
of answered Prayer. 
 
 159 
 
 swearer, to go to worship with me, and we 
 had just sat down in the pew, when I put 
 up a mental prayer that the preacher 
 might be led to say something against 
 swearing, that might be useful to my com- 
 panion ; and while I endeavoured to re- 
 collect some text of Scripture that was 
 against this vice, the third commandment 
 immediately presented itself with full force 
 to my mind. I thought if this were but 
 pronounced with solemn energy and power 
 from the pulpit, what good might it not 
 do ? Accordingly, towards the close of the 
 sermon, which, by the bye, seemed quite 
 foreign from what I had been meditating 
 upon, the preacher began to reprove the 
 odious vice of swearing, and was a full 
 quarter of an hour demonstrating with un- 
 common eloquence, and convincing argu- 
 ments, its sinfulness, meanness, unprofi- 
 tableness, and dangerous consequences, 
 and at last concluded by repeating the 
 third commandment with such solemnity, 
 that it forced the whole auditory into 
 the most serious attention, while I re- 
 
160 Answered Prayer continued. 
 
 joiced to think the Lord had graciously 
 condescended to hear my prayer, in a 
 manner so admirably calculated to im- 
 press the conscience of my profane com- 
 panion. 
 
 »-, 
 
CONTINUATION 
 
 OT THE 
 
 GENERAL'S HISTORY, 
 
 INTERSrSRSED WITH 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM HIS JOURNALS. 
 
 The preceding Narrative brings down 
 the Author's history to the middle of his 
 thirtieth year, the 24th of March, 1772. 
 We n^ust now proceed through the 
 remainder, chiefly by the aid of his jour- 
 nals ; in which, as he had been accustomed 
 to do from an early age, he continued to 
 notice all the material occurrences of his 
 life. Nothing which he deemed deserving 
 of being recorded, seems to have happened 
 for a considerable time after the period at 
 which the narrative closes. In the follow- 
 ing year, he determined to in ude in his 
 future journals, not only a register of ex- 
 
162 
 
 Narrative continued 
 
 ternal transactions and circumstances, but 
 accounts of his progress or Recline in the 
 Christian life, and of the pains and plea- 
 sures arising from the conflicts experienced 
 in his mind between error and truth, sin 
 and grace. The extracts we shall intro- 
 duce from these papers, and the use we 
 shall make of them in those parts, which 
 admit or require abridgment, will render 
 him still, in a great measure, his own 
 biographer. We cjinnot better commence 
 our continuation of Lieutenant Burn's 
 history, than with the introduction to this 
 new series of journals : and as this part of 
 his life appears to have been diversified 
 only by internal anxieties and enjoyments, 
 we shall proceed to transcribe some 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 in^ 
 junction 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, 
 
from the Author* s Journals. 163 
 
 the Lord, in a gracious and motre effectual 
 manner than 1 had ever before experienced, 
 having been pleased to enlighten my mind, 
 by the blessed illumination of his Holy 
 Spirit, to see the reality and importance of 
 the glorious and mysterious trutlis revealed 
 in the Bible ; and to direct my soul to the 
 Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of 
 the world: I have frequently thought it 
 might be useful, to commit my experience 
 to paper : but through ene impediment or 
 other, I have always put it off till this day. 
 And now, by the grace of God, the hea- 
 ven of heav«ii8, where God my Saviour 
 reigns, and where thousands of my brother 
 sinners are already arrived and entered into 
 bhss, being the happy port towards which 
 I am steering ; I am determined to keep an 
 exact journal of my voyage through the 
 tempestuous ocean of this life, where no- 
 thing but rocks and sands and shckals pre- 
 sent themselves on every side ; in order 
 that one day's experience may, under God, 
 be a kind of guide to the next, and that 
 after I sliall have fini^ed my course, and 
 safely arrived at home, others who come 
 

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 (71«) •7a-4S03 
 
 

 
 I/. 
 
164 Entry when he resolved 
 
 afte! me may see the ruin into which I had 
 well nigh fallen, and take timely warning. 
 But before 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 ven- 
 ture to proceed on my voyage without his 
 special direction, and the sweet influence 
 of his auspicious gales, lest I should suffer 
 loss, and be driven backwards instead of 
 forwards. Oh that the blessed Jesus would 
 grant that every day I might sail with as 
 prosperous a gale as I have this day ! How 
 good, how kind, how astonishingly gra- 
 cious, has he been to my unworthy soul on 
 this day of rest I 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 sanctuai*y, 
 O! what pleasure in praying, and praising, 
 and listening to the overtures of a merciful 
 
to keep a Journal, 
 
 165 
 
 God and Father in and through tlie Lord 
 Jesus Christ ! And when the service was 
 over, as I returned home through the 
 fields, the Lord blessed me in such a 
 manner, that " my cup ran over." I could 
 hardly support myself under the trans- 
 porting pressure of such ecstatic joy, such 
 unutterable rapture. A carnal world may 
 laugh at these expressions, and call them 
 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 can they persuade me 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; I was 
 imperceptibly led to reflect, that far lie- 
 yond the blue canopy so magnificently ex- 
 tended over my head, that same Saviour 
 was undoubtedly seated at the right hand 
 of Jehovah, and pleading for poor, guilty, 
 helpless me. This thought struck me 
 with such compunction of soul, and in- 
 
166 
 
 Eriracts from 
 
 fused into my breast such a sweet and full 
 assurance of eternal bliss, that, as I have 
 already mentioned, feeble flesh and blood 
 t;ould har^y stand under it. I walked 
 along, praising God with such ecstacy of 
 soul, that it brouglit to my remembrance 
 a camid notion I bate fvequoitly had, of 
 the en^loyment of the saints in heaven. 
 Before I knew what the sweets of religtiofi 
 were, I never could rigchtly conceive how 
 the blessed hosts above could find so much 
 pleasure in continually worshipping around 
 the throne: surely, I thought, they must 
 some time or other be tired, or at least, by 
 way of relaxfition, seek to vary their em- 
 ployment. But how differently did i 
 think now ! What worids would 1 have 
 given to remain always in such a frame as 
 this! The idea that these was such a 
 praising stale of bliss, that would never 
 have an end, ravished my soul. I could 
 not help crying out aloud to the inanimate 
 things around me, — Now 1 know what the 
 joy of saints and angels means, and no 
 longer wonder that they continually cry, 
 ** Holy, Holy, Holy, Loi^ God Almighty, 
 
the Author's Journal, 
 
 167 
 
 which was, and is, and is to come ;" and 
 unti^earifidly repeat, " Worthy is the Lateb 
 that was [^in, to receive power, and 
 riches, and wisdom, and strength, and 
 honour, and gflory, and Wessing." Q! 
 that I were among them ! 
 
 August 22. Any one who should take a 
 view 4)f the state of my mind, as described 
 in the fcHregoing passage, would naturadly 
 thMik J was a very happy Christian indeed, 
 and knew not what it was, to pass through 
 the difficult and gloomy part of the totkd 
 that leads to Heaveui. But he would be 
 very .much mistaken : for God and my own 
 soul knew, that for one. comfortable step I 
 take, i go ten mourning and sorrowing. 
 The bi%ht and ravishing gleams of God's 
 lo"e to ray soul are so soon clouded by the 
 workings of a deceitful heart, and that sin- 
 ful nature which I carry about me, that I 
 am presently left, without the light of his 
 countenance, to grapple my way in the 
 4ark through a sea of doubt and dejection. 
 1 hate sin ; bleated be the name of the 
 Lord : but I am every day sinning, in 
 thought, word, or deed, by omission and 
 
168 Extracts from Journal, 
 
 commission ; and then a munnuring con* 
 science, and a tempting and accusing 
 Devil, so beset me, that the burden of sin 
 becomes intolerably heavy. And when at 
 this season my faith should be particulaity 
 in exercise, it is so very weak, so littlef, 
 and mixed with so many doubts and fears, 
 that it can hardly be called faith. I believe 
 that the blood of Jesus is sufficient to take 
 away all sin ; but when I would go to hi^ 
 for pardon, the devil throws a stumbling- 
 block in my way, that this is making Christ 
 the minister of sin. Though my soul 
 abhors the very idea, yet I to<^ often 
 hearken to the deceiver, and, for fear of 
 abusing God's mercy, neglect going hour- 
 ly to Jesus for remission. O Christian, 
 M'hoever you be that may read this, bewar^ 
 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 Jwus Christ for re- 
 mission. , { 
 
 September 12. Among the many ene- 
 
Meditations. 
 
 469 
 
 mies that I have to grapple with in my 
 spiritual warfare, I find few so constant in 
 the field and so difficult to subdue, as spi- 
 ritual 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 j and when one would imagine that 
 such a poor, frail, simple being as I, could 
 never have any thing to do with pride. Yet, 
 ^las I too true it is, that cursed sin fre- 
 quently discovers itself ia my heart. But 
 blessed be the name of Jesus, he enables 
 me to battle hard against it. And a very 
 subtle foe it is to encounter; for where I 
 least expect it, there it is sure to be. W hen 
 my heart is big with grief, and groaning 
 under the weight of sin ; even there it 
 mixes with almost every sigh. If God 
 lifts upon me the light of his countenance, 
 this gigantic form at the same time is sure 
 to erect its stately head. Nay, at the very 
 moment lam 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 
 iJs smooth, insinuating voice. 
 
170 
 
 Meditations extracted 
 
 September «0. My spiritual foci are ao 
 numerous, their attacks so frequent and 
 unexpected, and the whole of my Christian 
 race attended with so many various cir- 
 cumstances; 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 tempta- 
 tions I have already mentioned, and many 
 more that I have not had time to commit to 
 writing. Among the vast army of corrup- 
 tions that lurk in my heart, I have this 
 week found at their head, an impatient, 
 murmuring spirit, making every little trifle 
 ruffle my temper before I am aware ; and 
 if 1 were not enabled by grace to set ^ con- 
 stant watch over the motions of this spirit, 
 it would hurry me into such sin as would 
 bring dishonour on the cause of God, 
 grieve his Holy Spirit, and burden my 
 nlready too much burdened mind. 1 desire 
 to be holy, and to live without sinning : 
 but when 1 fall into sin, I become fretful, 
 cross, and ill-humoured* instead of going 
 with a humble and contrite heart to the 
 
from his Diary. 171 
 
 Lord J«8us Cfea-ist for full pardon and re- 
 mission. This is my capital fault : for I 
 never come from thence without lieinggood 
 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 
 meaning of PauFs expression. "Ye have 
 need of patience/? But what must the pa- 
 tience of God be, that bears with such a 
 creature as I am ! That is past comprehen- 
 8k)n. 
 
 November 1. Till I can get entirely 
 above the world, its cares, customs, and 
 snares, I never shall be comfortable : till 
 sin is entirely overcome in my soul by the 
 love of Christ reigning there without a 
 rival, I never shall enjoy that sweet peace 
 of God, which passeth all understanding. 
 O how have I been harassed by this dread- 
 ful enemy, sin, during the fortnight past ! 
 Who can describe the excruciating anguish 
 of soul that I have suflTered. May the Lord 
 in mercy keep me from offending him as I 
 have too frequently done. For several 
 days I enjoyed a steady calm in my mind, 
 
 i2 
 
172 
 
 More Reflections 
 
 beyond what I had felt for some time ; till 
 one evening, reproving 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, 
 Satan insinuated himself into my corrupt 
 heart, so that ere I was aware, I fell into 
 the sin of unlawful anger. When I came 
 to my spiritual senses, and began to reflect 
 on what I had done, no tongue can express 
 my horror, for having committed such 
 egregious folly ; to think that instead of 
 defending my Saviour's cause, I had in- 
 jured it. And yet that compassionate Re- 
 deemer was pleased to restore me to his 
 favour again. But what shall I say ? Shame 
 and confusion cover my face, while 1 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 act the Christian part in a com- 
 pany of worldly people ; and left undone, 
 or did but faintly, what it was my indis- 
 pensable duty to have done openly and 
 boldly before the world. The righteous 
 are bold as a lion. But, alas for me ! I 
 
of a Self-observer, 
 
 173 
 
 am yet a slave to shame. O this fatal 
 rock ! How often have I split upon it ! 
 What numberless tears it has made me 
 shed. Howoflen, when I have been going 
 6h prosperously, steering a straight course 
 towards Heavfen, have I seen 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 btessing of God, to ap- 
 proach his holy table next Sabbath ; 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 mej 
 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. I could ** call him Lord by 
 the Holy Ghost," appropriate him to my- 
 self, and securely venture my eternal all 
 on his everlasting love. O what a blessed 
 Sabbath did I experience! What sweet 
 composure of mind ! What solid joy at 
 heart ! What peace of conscience !— I was 
 not carried out in seraphic flights, or rap- 
 turous ecstacies. I felt something,if possible, 
 
174 Extracti^Jrom the Jowmai 
 
 more sublime and eleTating within me. 1 
 cannot describe it in a more distinct 
 and comprehensive manner, than by say- 
 ing, 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 deatii itself. Jesus 
 enabled me, by putting his love in my soul, 
 to bid de6ance to all his terrors. O that 
 he would in like manner stand by me, 
 when this terrible, thouglb conquered king, 
 makes his appearance. Then shall I not 
 fear, though I see his well-aimed arrow 
 pointed at my heart. My soul has been 
 greatly encouraged and established, within 
 these few days past, by the preaching of 
 the word, and from the pious conversation 
 of some eminent and humble Christians, 
 particularly 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 keeps me from resting here. 
 December 7. Well might the royal 
 
o/'a Self-observer, 
 
 176 
 
 prophet break out into the pathetic and 
 affecting exclamation, ** Lord, what is 
 man!" Weakness in the very abstract; 
 unable for a moment to preserve himself 
 where grace has brought him, unless con- 
 tinuing grace uphold him there. But a 
 few days ago, how happy was my situa- 
 tion ! With Jesus Christ in the arms of 
 my faith, I could exult in the strongest 
 hopes of eternal bliss, and bid a bold de- 
 fiance to all the powers of helU Alas! 
 how changed ! Weak and fearful, full of 
 doubts and murmuring surmisings ; with- 
 out my all sufficient prop, I reel and 
 stagger, ready every moment to be over* 
 eome by the powerful enemies that beset 
 me on every side. O that I have been so 
 foolish ! for I am sensible whence all this 
 comes. 1 have neglected to obey that salu- 
 tary command of my compassionate Re-r 
 deemer, " Watch and pray, lest ye enter 
 into temptation \" In the midst of danger 
 I have dreamed that all was secure, and 
 ere I was aware, have let the world and 
 the devil creep into my heart, naturally 
 prone to receive them : and who knows 
 
176 Extracts from the Journal 
 
 what I shall suifier ere they be driven out ; 
 but by the grace of God, they shall not 
 lodge there. May that all-sufficient grace 
 which hath opened my eyes to see my foesy 
 a blesising not bestowed on all men, give 
 me strength also to fight manfully against 
 them ; and, in its o^vn good time and way, 
 drive them all outbefot-c me. 
 
 December 15. For some days past 
 I have been, as to spiritual things, like a 
 person without sense or feeling. And yet 
 a secret something within kept longing 
 after closer communion with Jesus Christ, 
 whom it desired to love above all things, 
 though it could not assure itself whether it 
 did or not. But why do I attempt to give 
 an account of the state of my mind ? For 
 let me use what words I will, I cannot 
 satisfy myself ; there is always something 
 wanting, or there are so many seeming 
 contradictions to reconcile, that it is 
 scarcely possible. He who may read after 
 me, should be able to form a just idea of 
 what passes in the breast of a poor sinner 
 that is seeking salvation in the* blood of 
 iesus. If he is earnestly employed in the 
 
of a Self -observer. 
 
 177 
 
 same search, he may perhaps find some- 
 thing in my experience that may tally with 
 his own. — For two days past, what unutter- 
 able pangs have I suffered on account of 
 sin ! None can conceive the nature of this 
 anguish, that have not felt it themselves. 
 Yesterday, while my mind was in this ex- 
 cruciating 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 : — '* Be- 
 lievers hold communion with Christ in 
 hearkening to his voice, calling them to 
 him with their bmden, ' Come unto me, 
 all y€ that are weary and heavy laden, and 
 I will give you rest.' Come, thou poor 
 soul, with the guilt of sin," &c. I in- 
 stantly saw by faith Jesus Christ making 
 this overture to me, and, as quick as 
 thought, threw my burdeu off, 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 from all sin ! Satan 
 
 I 5 
 
17S Interesting Specimen of 
 
 has tried a thousand devices to keep me 
 from it ; but this striking instance of its 
 efficacy will, I trust, by the grace of God, 
 foe a powerful weapon in my hands to foil 
 this subtle foe. 
 
 Beside the constant attention to the ope- 
 rations of his mind, and the feelings of his 
 heart, which produced the foregoing pas- 
 sages, with numerous others of a similar 
 kind ; Lieutenant Burn was accustomed, 
 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 pos- 
 sessor of vital Christianity, or not. One of 
 the days devoted by him to this solemn ex- 
 ercise 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 inquiry, we will 
 venture to recommend his most serious 
 consideration of the principles and senti- 
 ments of the following soliloquy. 
 
Silf-examtnation. 
 
 179 
 
 January 1, 1774. Lord God Almighty ! 
 be pleased this day, for Jesus Christ's sake, 
 so to illuminate my mind, by the inspira- 
 tion of the Holy Spirit, that whilst I 
 attempt to penetrate into the deepest re- 
 cesses of my heart, and make the strictest 
 mquiries. about my spiritual state, I may 
 make no material mistakes therein. When 
 the question is, whether I am bom again 
 of the Spirit of God; or whether I am in* 
 grafted into Christ Jesus, as the branch 
 into the vine, and become a new ci^ature 
 in him ; — O let me not deceive myself in 
 giving an answer. Remove the obstacles 
 that lie in the way of coming to the truth, 
 in this examination. Take away pride, 
 the fear of man, the love of praise, carnal 
 reasoning, and a long train of hellish 
 cavillers, that will be ready at every op- 
 portunity to cast in a word to bewilder me 
 in this important search. But above all, 
 silence the accusations and wicked sugges- 
 tions of the devil, that he may be cou- 
 foun(led, thine unworthy worm humbled 
 in tlie dust, and all the praiue and glory 
 redound unto thee alone, now and for ever- 
 
180 
 
 Specimen 6f 
 
 mok«, Amen.^What am I ? A reasonable 
 being, born ^ to die, perhaps to-morr<^w^ 
 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 prin- 
 ciple, a spark of the Deity, an immortal 
 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 natul-e 
 and practice, and consequently an enemy 
 to my Maker, a child of wrath, and an 
 heir of hell. I know likewise, and am 
 thoroughly convinced (blessed be God !) 
 that God so loved the world, that he gave 
 hi« 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 
 righteousness for his chosen people, and 
 will at last most certainly bring to eternal 
 glory all who through rich grace are 
 brought to believe in his name. The 
 grand and important questions then are ; 
 
Self-examination. 
 
 181 
 
 Am I one of this happy number?— Did 
 Jesus die for me?— Have I felt the divine 
 efficacy of his blood ? — Is his righteous- 
 ness my only plea for justification before 
 God ?— And shall I shortly enter into the 
 blissful realms above as a shining trophy of 
 his sovereign and everlasting love ? — I'hese 
 are the blessings I want of all things to call 
 my own. Ten thousand worlds to be able 
 to do it with confidence. The 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 faithfully. 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 proof of this. Do I live as I 
 did ten or twenty years ago ? — No, nothing 
 like it : in the clear sense of the expres- 
 sion, " Old things are passed away, and 
 all things are become new." . Has the 
 Spirit of God ever convinced me of sin ? 
 
182 
 
 Specimen of 
 
 Let my conscience, which has felt its in- 
 tolerable load, answer this question. 'Tis 
 true, the Lord m first sweetly drew me to 
 himself with the cords of love, and it was 
 some time before he shewed me the dread- 
 ful nature of sin, and the plague of my 
 own heart: but when be did, no lan- 
 guage can express the excruciating pangs 
 I felt and the agonies of soul I went 
 through on account of it, till by faith in the 
 Redeemer's blood I experienced a blessed 
 deliverance from it. But do I really and 
 truly hate sin ? Surely I do, with a perfect 
 hatred : else whence should it be such a 
 dally grief and burden to me ? Let my 
 secret tears, my bitter groans, and heart- 
 rending sighs; let my hourly dread of falling 
 into it, witness whether I hate it. The 
 heart-searching God knows I hate it. But 
 here something within seems to whisper. 
 Are you then without sin ? Alas ! no ; I 
 am a daily, an hourly sinner, the chief of 
 sinners. ** God be merciful to me a sin- 
 ner," is my constant petition. But 1 trust 
 sin has not the dominion over me. By 
 grace, 1 flee iirom and avoid it, hate and 
 
Self-examination . 
 
 18S 
 
 resist it ; and by that grace, and that only, 
 I hope 1 can safely say, 1 have not, for 
 the last three years, knowingly or wilfully 
 committed it. It is true, and to my great 
 sorrow too true, that 1 am frequently in 
 great straits and doubts, whether this and 
 the other thing be sinful or not ; and not 
 being able to distinguish between the in- 
 jections of Satan, the workings of a weak 
 and misinformed conscience, and the 
 breathings of the Spirit of God, I am often 
 so bewildered that I know not which way 
 to act, and too, too often act wrong, wound 
 my conscience, grieve the Spirit, and bring 
 sorrow and leanness upon my soul. But 
 the Lord knows it is my daily supplication 
 to be rightly and entirely conformed to his 
 blessed will, and I hope in his own good 
 time he will answer my prayer. — But let 
 me now examine this important matter a 
 little closer. — What is it I love most ? Is 
 it God ? the triune God, Father, Son, and 
 .Spirit? Alas! ungrateful wretch that I 
 am, I have fallen so far short of the love 
 which 1 owed to this redeeming God, and 
 I see such depravity within, that I cannot 
 
iu 
 
 Specimen of 
 
 always boldly appeal to him like one of 
 old, and say, Thou who knowest all things 
 knowest that I love thee. A transient view 
 of the immensity of his love to sinners 
 makes the little ! can pretend to, totally 
 disappear; and then it may be said I do 
 not love him at all. But select the little 
 drop from the boundless ocean of his love, 
 and then I can safely affirm I love him a 
 little. O that I could love him more! 
 But let us examine a little nearer ; where 
 is the proof of this ? If an earnest un- 
 ceasing desire to be like him, to be holy 
 because he is holy, pure because he is pure, 
 be a principle of love ; then I love him. If 
 a cheerful willingness to forsake all, to 
 suffer all, for his sake, be love ; then I love 
 him. If to esteem one moment's commu- 
 nion with Jesus greater bliss than the 
 pleasures of the whole world, be love; 
 then i love him. If to delight in seeing 
 his cause prosper and his people increase, 
 and to labour as much as in me lies for this 
 end, be love; then I love him. If to de- 
 light in the practice of holiness, in his 
 courts, in his word, in his ordinances, be 
 
Self-examination. 
 
 18d 
 
 i 
 
 love to God ; I can safely say I find no. 
 delight any way comparable to what I find 
 in these. Lastly, if the love of his people^ 
 of whatever church, sect, or denomination, 
 who more or less bear his image, be an 
 evidence oflovetoGod himself; then I can. 
 ednfidently say I have this evidence. . And 
 this has many times upheld me when every 
 thing else has failed : by the grace of God, 
 Satan could never wrest this proof out of 
 my hands. Notwithstanding, I frequently 
 doubt whether I love the Lord Jesus 
 Christ; though sometimes also, thank 
 God, I can say with assurance I do love 
 him ; witness the fourteenth of last month, 
 when he sealed to me the pardon of my 
 sin : I then loved him in a manner whic^ 
 it is impossible to give any idea of in 
 words. Upon the whole, what may I safely 
 conclude ? Let me pause, and beg of God 
 that I may not draw a false conclusion. — 
 Am I a follower, not only a professing, but 
 a real follower, of the Lamb ? If the evi- 
 deuces I have mentioned, be what I un- 
 doubtedly experience, and I trust by God's 
 grace I do experience them ; then I hope I 
 
186 
 
 Bejieeiians after 
 
 may from Scripture, and upon a good 
 foundation, safely say, that Jesus is mine 
 and I am his. Certain 1 am, that a great 
 change has been ivrought in me within 
 these three or four years; and I am as 
 certain, that it was neither an inherent 
 power in me that effected it, nor any good 
 worses of mine that merited it. Therefore 
 it must be sovereign grace alone that did 
 the mighty deed. If> then, a God of love 
 has begun a good work upon my soul, dare 
 1 presume to contradict omnipotence, and 
 say be cannot or will not carry it on and 
 finish it, when he has absolutely promised 
 he will do it ? O my soul, beware of that 
 sin of unbelief. He that hath put into thy 
 heart that earnest cry after Jesus Christ 
 and his righteousness, will ere long, agree- 
 ably to his foithful word, abundantly satisfy 
 thee. Grant then, O my covenant-keeping 
 God, that my soul and body, my time and 
 talents, and all that 1 have, may be wholly 
 and truly dedicated to thee, for Jesus Christ 
 his sake. Amen. 
 
 In the month of March this year, Lieut. B. 
 was visited with a dangerous illness. The 
 
a dangerous Indisposition. 187 
 
 next entry in his journal describes the 
 state of his mind under that affliction and 
 immediately after its removal. 
 
 April 2. Blessed be the name of the 
 Lord, 1 am still in the land of the living, 
 still on praying ground, and, by his grace, 
 still hungering antl thirsting after Jesus 
 Christ: and though the devil, my own 
 wandering wicked heart, and an insnaring 
 world, have robbed me of my comfort and 
 many predous blessings, yet through mercy, 
 rich unmerited mercy, they have not be- 
 reaved me of this seeking wrestling spirit t 
 and if Jesus Christ hath promised that such 
 shall be filled, that such shall find, that 
 such shall overcome, what have I to fear } 
 Nothing but unbelief. Lord, destroy that, 
 and I am happy. I thank thee, blessed 
 Jesus, that it is not so prevalent as it was, 
 and that thou hast given me grace to rely 
 upon thee, be my frames and feelings what 
 they will, and amidst the workings of a 
 deceitful heart and the suggestions of a 
 cunning devil, still to hang upon thee. 
 Lowi, increase my faith. — Within the last 
 month, the Lord has been pleased to lay 
 
 f=f4i 
 
188 
 
 Reflections when about 
 
 his afflicting hand upon me, even to briri^ 
 me to the very brink of the grave ; and* 
 what was more grievous to bear than alj 
 my bodily pain, during the greatest part of 
 my illness the enemy was permitted to 
 buffet me, the comfortable presence of my 
 God was withdrawn from me, and darkness, 
 doubts, and fears, took possession of my 
 soul ; a state which those only, who have 
 experienced it, can conceive. It is dread- 
 ful, with one foot in the grave and the other 
 almost there, to look through eternity 
 without a strong hold of Jesus Christ. I 
 have at times looked death in the face with 
 pleasure; but it was always ivhen I had 
 Jesus near my heart. I never could bear 
 the sight of that grisly monarch, if Christ 
 was at any distance from me. Come then. 
 Lord Jesus, and dwell for ever in thift 
 heart of mine ; purge it^ make it a holy 
 receptacle for thy blessed self. — I trust this 
 sickness hath been truly sanctiiied to me ; 
 for, if I am not greatly deceived, it hath 
 filled me with fresh ardour after that Al- 
 mighty Saviour, who alone i'' able to deliver 
 from the iean fif death and \. ^ pains of hell* 
 
to visit his Father. 
 
 189 
 
 About a mouth after his recovery Lieut. 
 B. went to Scbtland. An observation 
 made just before he set out on the voyage 
 discovers a deep sense of his religious obli- 
 gations, aid great diffidence of his own 
 heart. \ 
 
 May i. For some weeks past, I have 
 purposed, in compliance with the earnest 
 req^uests of an affectionate father, to pay 
 him a visit with my wife and child ; biit 
 the dread of dishonouring the cause of 
 God, when I get among my relatives, or in 
 the midst of strangers, by being ashamed 
 boldly to act up to the profession I have 
 made for three years. past, makes me quite 
 miserable. I know by bitter experience, 
 what dreadful havock shame can make in 
 the heart of an awakened sinner ; and I 
 tremble at the thoughts of being put to the 
 trial. 
 
 Afteif an absence of nearly three months 
 h 'c returned to Chatham, inspired with fer- 
 veyit gratiti|de to the Father of mercies for 
 all the goodness which had attended him- 
 self and his family. 
 
 Apgust 1. Blessed be the name of the 
 
190 
 
 Meditations after his 
 
 Lord; for his mercy endureth for ever. 
 His word is faithful and true, and all his 
 promises yea and amen in Christ Jesus. 
 He will never leave nor forsake his people : 
 his everlasting arms shall be underneath 
 them : ' the bruised reed he will not break, 
 neither will he quench the smoking flax.* 
 Eternally blessed be his great name, that 
 he hath evidently accomplished these pre- 
 cious promises in the behalf of my poor, 
 weak, trembling soul. O how was I 
 tempted ! how did 1 doubt ! how did I fear 
 and tremble, but three months ago, before 
 I set out on my voyage, lest I should turil 
 my back upon him, be ashamed of himbefore 
 men, and bring reproach upon hi» cauie. 
 Alas ! I came far, very far short of what I 
 ought to have done. Yet to his glory, and 
 his alone, be it spoken, his strength was 
 made manifest in my weakness, and his 
 sovereign grace, in a wonderful unex- 
 pected manner, was alwa}'S at hand to sup- 
 port and encourage me in the trying hour. 
 When 1 began to sink, and despair of being 
 able to speak for him, he raised up mean^ 
 to rouse and strengthen me, that at times ! 
 
Return from Scotland. 191 
 
 was made to rejoice in his love, speak boldly 
 in his name, and be afraid of the face of no 
 man. — When we embarked, and indeed 
 for some time before, I was led to see that 
 it was my indispensable duty to endeavour 
 to establish public prayer while we were 
 on board the ship ; but to propose it to the 
 captain, was a task I dreaded. >\ hen even- 
 ing drew near, that 1 knew I must do it then 
 or not at all, I began to tremble, ruminated 
 on various ways by which I should first 
 open the proposal to him, and prayed to 
 the Lord for his grace to help me. While 
 I was thus employed, the Lord put it into 
 the hearts of my wife and another woman, 
 altogether without my knowledge, to pro- 
 pose it to the captain ; and he readily con- 
 sented to it: just in the midst of all my fears 
 they came into the cabin, and recommended 
 our going to prayer. This unexpected 
 instance of the Almighty's condescension, 
 in answering my mental petitions, so struck 
 me that I could hardly restrain myself from 
 rising up and leaping for joy : every doubt 
 and fear vanished in a moment, and the 
 captain declining to ofliciate himself, I was 
 
 'Ml 
 
 ■:m% 
 
192 Providential Interposition , 
 
 pitched upon ; and, had the whole as- 
 sembled world been there, I should not 
 then have declined calling upon the God 
 of my salvation before them all. — The 
 Lord's providential care over us during 
 the voyage was still more evident and re- 
 markable. The prayers of many saints 
 went with us ; and if ever the petitions of 
 poor sinners were heard at a throne of 
 grtice, they certainly were. No sooner 
 was the day fixed for our sailing, than the 
 weather, which but a few hours before was 
 stormy, became unexpectedly fine, and the 
 wind that was quite contrary became al- 
 together favourable ; and, what was even 
 remarked by the unthinking part of the 
 crew, when we were about to sail round a 
 head-land, and consequently to alter our 
 course, and an alteration in the wind 
 became necessary, it never failed to happen 
 at the very moment it was wanted : so that 
 long before we expected it, we were gently 
 and imperceptibly wafted to our desired 
 port ; where we had scarcely been landed 
 an hour, when the weather again changed 
 to the reverse of what it had been, apd 
 
Reflections. 193 
 
 continued so for a long time. Thus did 
 the Lord evidently protect and favour us; 
 and not only here but in many other in- 
 stances. Oh that I should have made 
 such an unworthy return! Instead of 
 growing- w^armer in my afl^ctions towards 
 lum, I think I grew colder and colder. 
 The lukewarm spirit of most of those 
 among whom I had been in Scotland, had 
 so much infected me, that when I returned 
 I found my soul almost dead to spiritual 
 things. May the Lord quicken me, and 
 kindle in my heart a flame of love to his 
 blessed self; that I may set out afresh in 
 iiis ways, and live more to his glory than 
 1 have ever yet done. 
 
 Lieut. B.'s papers contain no account of 
 any circumstance that occurred for more 
 than twelve months after his return from 
 Scotland. We proceed to transcribe a iaw 
 more of his pious reflections, among w hich 
 we cannot overlook the devout and humble 
 sentiments with which he closed the year 
 1774. 
 
 December 30. If the Lord in m«?rcy 
 spares me to the end uf another year, I 
 
 K 
 
194 
 
 Meditations 
 
 hope I shall be enabled to look \\p6ti it 
 with more pleasure than I now do upon 
 this. Alas ! how little have 1 lived to the 
 glory of God ! What a very small portion 
 of my heart has God had ! And without 
 he heart, all my bodily exercise, praying, 
 reading, hearing, singing, repiwing, ex- 
 horting, giving of alms, meditating, exa- 
 mining, groaning, sighing, weeping, &c., 
 will signify little or nothing. Without 
 faith, it is impossible to please God ; and 
 where the heart is not, there can be no faith ; 
 " for with the heart man believeth." How 
 T'ery ignorant and foolish, then, are those 
 who content themselves with being found 
 in the ordinances of God, without carefully 
 examining whether they carry their hearts 
 with them! And how often, O my soul, 
 hast thou been thus foolish ! surely with 
 such sacrifices God was not well pleased. 
 The Lord have mercy upon me a sinner. 
 1 can see nothing but what is vile in my- 
 self; but all fulness dwelletli in Jesus: 
 therefore to him I come, on him alone will 
 I rely ; for I have learned more this year 
 than 1 liave ever yet done, that without 
 
(It the end of a Year, 
 
 195 
 
 him I can do nothing, but through him I 
 am more than conqueror over all my foes. 
 I therefore desire to conclude the year, to 
 begin another, to continue through life, 
 and to finish my last moments, with crying 
 from the heart, None but Christ ! None but 
 Christ ! 
 
 In the journal of the following year; 
 Lieut. 13. discovei-s the same spirit of hea- 
 venly niindedness, and the same anxious 
 concern to " live in all good conscience 
 before (iod." We shall give two Extracts. 
 
 April 9, 1775. O how pleasant, safe, 
 and delightful, to confide in a crucified 
 Lord ! J this day found Jesus precious to 
 my soul in a manner that I had never done 
 before. I saw such beauty, fitness, and 
 excellency in him, that all the troubles, 
 afllirtions, temptations, and trials, I could, 
 possibly meet with here, seemed nothing at 
 all ^\\n\e 1 securely rested on the eternal 
 Rock of nges. What an inexhaustible, un- 
 speakable, treasure is Christ ! It is well 
 worth while to sell all and purchase this 
 precious pearl. I may safely say, I really 
 felt in my heart that I loved Christ to-day. 
 
 k2 
 
J96 
 
 Meditations. 
 
 O how seldom it is I can say so ! But I 
 trust, sinful, helpless, creature as I am, 
 Christ will soon complete the work of sanc- 
 tification in my soul, take me to himself, 
 and bless me for ever in his presence ! and 
 then I am sure I shall eternally love him. 
 
 May 23. Oh what would I give for a 
 sight of Christ by faith ! how uncomfort- 
 able and mournful, to live without him ! — 
 Surely I have suffered great spiritual loss 
 lately. There must be some fatal obstacle 
 in the way : the Lord remove it. Be faith- 
 ful, O my conscience, and plainly tell me 
 what it is. — A too great attention and at- 
 tachment to the empty perishing gratifica- 
 tions of time and sense. A corrupt heart 
 too frequently carried away by worldly and 
 spiritual pride. Too great conformity, in 
 conversation, manner, and behaviour, to 
 the people among whom it is necessary to 
 be.-— If this be true (and God and my own 
 heart know it is), is there any wonder I 
 should be continually crying out, day after 
 day, My leanness, my leanness! But is 
 there nothing more ?— Yes. An evil heart 
 of unbelief; a hasty, fiery temper ; an im- 
 
 
 I 
 
Meditations, 
 
 197 
 
 patient, fretful, murmuring spirit ; an in- 
 constant, wavering spirit ; a forgetful, un- 
 grateful spirit ; an earthly mind, a carnal 
 heart, perverse will, turbulent passions, 
 vile affections — but the blood of Jesus 
 Christ cleanseth from all sin. If this 
 blessed and efficacious remedy be not ap- 
 plied to my guilty soul, self-convicted, self- 
 condemned, 1 must bear the wrath of God 
 for ever. But, O comfortable thought! 
 Christ died, and died for sinners; and, 
 what heightens and endears the glorious 
 truth, died for me, yes, for me. Else, 
 whence comes this eager, constant hunger- 
 ing and thirsting after him ? This restless, 
 longing desire to be united to him ? This 
 ardent, ceaseless wish, to love him more 
 and more ? Surely he hath put it there 
 himself, and will 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 
 demanded the most grateful acknowledg- 
 ments, Lieut. B. considered it far from the 
 
 Kd 
 
198 
 
 Ordered from Chatham 
 
 f # 
 
 least, that he was kept so long on shore, 
 while all his brother officers, not one ex- 
 cepted, had been sent to sea. He had been 
 stationed at Chatham for five years ; but 
 the time was now approaching for his re- 
 moval. 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 ex- 
 pect be would soon be ordered on active 
 service. 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 appears 
 to have been for the consisitency and purity 
 of his Christian chamcter. 
 
 September 23, 1776. The events 
 which have lately taken place in the nation 
 have not a little disconcerted me. En- 
 gaged 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 irre- 
 
to America. 
 
 im 
 
 ligious example perhaps may have too 
 much influence on a heart so prone to evil 
 as mine. This last consideration, espe- 
 cially, lies very heavy upon my mind. \ 
 dread the thouglit of being ashamed of 
 Jesus Christ. 1 tremble at what may befal 
 me, should God leave me a single day to 
 myself. And yet, when 1 call to mind the 
 many singular instances of his providential 
 care towaitis me, 1 darc not entertain the 
 least doubt of a continuation of his good- 
 ness, but, in spite of all opposition, am 
 constrained to put my trust and confidence 
 ill Him for the time to come. O that his 
 grace would enable me to testify to all 
 among whom 1 may come, that I have not 
 only taken up the profession of Christianity, 
 but have indeed been with Jesus, and 
 learned of Him a " pure and undefiled re- 
 ligion" that " keeps me unspotted from 
 the world." 
 
 After several weeks of expectation Lieut. 
 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 capt. J. Burr. 
 
200 
 
 Opportune Discovert/ 
 
 
 |fsJ3 
 
 \A 
 
 Capt. Burr allowed him to return and re- 
 main 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 
 affectionate leave of his family, and went 
 on board that evening. The commence- 
 ment of the voyage was distinguished by a 
 seasonable discovery and prevention of 
 dconger, calculated to make a serious im- 
 pression on every thoughtful mind. 
 
 " December 19. We sailed from Sheer- 
 ness and came to an anchor at the Warp, 
 the day being hazy and the wind rather 
 too short to carry through the Narrows. 
 Here the providence of God began to be 
 evidently manifested in our favour. A 
 sailor in the foretop perceived something 
 the matter with the topmast, that it did not 
 sit as it should, but could not well tell 
 why. This brought on a more strict exa- 
 mination, and the topmast was found so 
 thoroughly rotten, that its own weight had 
 carried it several inches below the fid or 
 iron bar on which it rested. The captain 
 immediately consulted with his officers; 
 and though our orders were very pressing 
 
Ufa decayed Mast. 
 
 201 
 
 to proceed to Portsmouth, it was unani- 
 mously agreed to return to Sheemess; 
 which we accordingly did, and got another 
 topmast up in three days. What the con- 
 sequence would have been, had we gone 
 to sea with the other, God only knows. 
 We are certain it could not have stood 
 long; some devoted wretch might have 
 suffered from its fall; or, perhaps, had 
 it gone on a lee shore, it might have 
 proved the loss, not only of the ship, but of 
 every soul in her. O that men could but 
 see the goodness of God, and be thankful. 
 He foresees and prevents the evil that 
 would prove their destruction ; while they, 
 unconcerned nbout the matter, forget or 
 despise him and his mercies too." 
 
 Delayed by calms and contrary winds, 
 they did not reach Spithead till the first of 
 January. Poitsmouth was a place which 
 could not be visited by Lieut B. without 
 awakening some interesting recollections 
 of former days, and thankfulness for the 
 contrast of his present circumstances. 
 
 January 6, 1776., I went ashore early 
 this morning ; after breakfast, the weatlier 
 
 
n 
 
 202 Grateful Retrospect 
 
 l^n 
 
 being fair, I seized the opportunity, saun- 
 
 I^^P 
 
 tered about the town, and had a most 
 
 H'^H 
 
 agreeable walk upon the ramparts. O 
 
 H^H 
 
 how my heart glowed with gratitude the 
 
 I^H 
 
 instant I began to recollect that there was 
 
 H^H 
 
 a time I travelled round these walls, 
 
 ^^H^ 
 
 ^hen my situation in every respect was 
 
 I'^H 
 
 most wretched, compared to what it is at 
 
 I^B 
 
 present : blessed be the name of the Lord, 
 
 ^^^^^^B: 
 
 who brought about the happy change. 
 
 ^^^H 
 
 Then, tired out with hunger and fatigue, 
 
 ^^^H 
 
 I passed one tedious hour after another, 
 
 ^^^H 
 
 not knowing where to satisfy a craving appe- 
 
 ^^^H 
 
 tite or to lay my head at night, no money 
 
 ^^^H 
 
 to purchase either, and without any solid 
 
 ^^^H 
 
 prospect of a future maintenance in the 
 
 H^H 
 
 world ; and, what is worst of all, my eyes 
 
 ^^^Hjjj^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 sealed to the true light of the gospel, and 
 
 H^H 
 
 my mind as yet ignorant of the saving 
 
 ^^■E 
 
 knowledge of Christ. Now, glory to his 
 
 ^^■R 
 
 name ! 1 am neither tired nor hungry ; I 
 
 ^^hh 
 
 know where to go for a good dinner and 
 
 ^^^^^^1^^^ 
 
 where to lay my head peaceably at night. 
 
 ^MHi 
 
 with a sufficiency in my pocket to purchase 
 
 ^MHii 
 
 •whatever I want. My fortune in the world 
 
 ^BS^^E 
 
 is not great, but sufficient. Blessed with 
 
 H 
 
 
on Portsmouth Ramparts, 203 
 
 the woman I love and my dear little prat- 
 tling babes, I desire no more. But, what 
 is far preferable to all this, I humbly trust 
 the Lord hath opened the eyes of my un- 
 derstanding, to see my ruined state by n»> 
 ture, and to know and embrace the truth as 
 it is in Jesus. Transported with pleasing 
 reflections on what God had thus graciously 
 done for me, 1 could not forbear tuning a 
 hymn of thanksgiving to his praise, while 
 I heartily skipped along the ramparts ; my 
 outward gesture sufliciently demonstrating 
 what joy and satisfaction reigned within. 
 Surely, I thought, God must be my God, 
 or he would not thus have blessed me." 
 
 While they were at Spithead they re- 
 ceived orders from the Admiralty to pro- 
 ceed to Plymouth to take on board arti- 
 ficers for Halifax. Having now the pro 
 fipect of a long voyage. Lieutenant B. 
 thought it right to fix on some regular 
 method of distributing and employing his 
 time ; and accordingly prescribed to him- 
 self the following rules for that purpose. 
 
 " January 12. Having perceived, within 
 these few days past, a spirit of indolence 
 
204 Rules for spending Time 
 
 and inactivity gradually creeping upon me, 
 and being very sensible from former ex- 
 perience, that, if not speedily checked, it 
 may prove in the end very prejudicial both to 
 soul and body ; I am therefore determined, 
 by the blessing of God, in order to stop its 
 further progress, to adopt the following 
 plan of living while I remain on board the 
 Milford ; which I purpose closely and per- 
 severingly to adhere to, unless prevented 
 by sickness, urgent business, or any other 
 unforeseen hindrance which 1 cannot pos- 
 sibly avoid : — 
 
 " In the months of November, Decem- 
 ber, January, and February, to rise at seven 
 o'clock ; in October and March at six ; 
 and the rest of the year at five. 
 
 " The first thing to be done in the morn- 
 ing, the instant I wake, is, to lift up my 
 heart in prayer to (iod, to thank him for 
 his mercies during the night, and to im- 
 plore his protection through the ensuing- 
 day : then to rise, wash, clean, and dress 
 myself, as 1 purpose going the whole day : 
 after which, to retire to my cabin, and 
 spend some time in prayer, reading the 
 
aboard the Milford. 
 
 205 
 
 Scripture and chauntlng a hymn: and if 
 breakfast is not ready, take a walk upon 
 deck till it is. 
 
 *' After breakfast, I will spend some 
 time in reading" or writing, according as 
 the pain in my breast will permit 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 find the company of my messmates 
 otherwise than useful or entertaining. 
 
 " At nine or ten, but never later than 
 eleven, to retire to my cabin, pray to God, 
 and go to rest. 
 
 " N.B. At twelve at noon, never to for- 
 get to retire, to pray for my wife, my chil- 
 dren, my parents, and all my Christian 
 brethren : if 1 have not an opportunity of 
 <loing 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 
 

 206 Escape from foundering 
 
 any way suitable to the profession I have 
 made ; in mercy therefore assist me to keep 
 this resolution as far as it is consistent with 
 thy will, and will enable me to live to thy 
 glory." 
 
 On the 16th of January, when they were 
 near the Edystone, the master was at the 
 helm and undertook 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 
 mileH to the eastward of PI} mouth ; a bay 
 which appears to ofler the finest anchor- 
 age, 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 been known to get out 
 again. In the present case, the discovery 
 was made at the critical juncture : if it had 
 been a little lat<^r, or if the wind had blown 
 strongly towards the shore, they nniiit in. 
 €vitabl> have been ureiked, and it is not 
 likely that any would have cscapt*!.! : but 
 the mistake was happily diicovejrcd in tmie 
 
I 
 
 i 
 
 in Bighury Bay, 
 
 207 
 
 to admit of their standing out to sea, and 
 the next morning they reached their desired 
 port. The several hair-breadth escapes 
 they had experienced, between their de- 
 parture from Sheerness and their arrival at 
 Plymouth, were justly regarded by Lieute- 
 nant B. as so many instancs of the divine 
 goodness towards them. 
 
 " January J 7. The Lord hath been re- 
 markably gracious to us. O that we could 
 but be truly thankful. The care of the 
 Almighty has been so evidently manifested 
 in our favour, that even those on board the 
 ship who have not the fear of God before 
 their eyes, could not help observing it. I 
 toeed only repeat the speech of one of my 
 messmates to day at dinner. " When I 
 consider," said he, " how badly this ship 
 was fitted out, the rawness and inexperience 
 of our hands, the season of the year, the 
 stormy weather we liave had, and our last 
 night's affair in Bigbury-bay, 1 cannot ac- 
 count for our being here, uidess it was 
 downright providence that brought us." 
 Surely, and that same Providence must at- 
 
^08 
 
 Effects of a Storm, 
 
 (IS 
 
 tend 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, suf- 
 fered much from sea-sickness, and his si- 
 tuation was rendered still more distressing 
 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 Avere exposed to all the terrors of 
 a storm, so dreadful that I believe I shall 
 never forget it. Our ship, lying to under 
 a balanced 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 Irom a 
 dangerous fever, sitting bare-legged from 
 six in the evening till eight this morning, 
 bailing it out to keep me from being 
 
Seasickness. 
 
 209 
 
 swamped in my bed ; now and then whis- 
 pering, as the sea broke over the ship, 
 * Surely such another will knock her sides 
 together !* Life was burdensome, yet I 
 shuddered at the thought of present disso- 
 lution ; I had no appropriating faith. But 
 glory to the Master of the storm : though 
 hidden, he was not absent, or unconcerned 
 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 I 
 He hath restored me to a great degree of 
 bodily health ; at his command, the winds 
 and waves have ceased raging so furiously: 
 and I trust this affliction hath been so sanc- 
 tified to my soul, that I am now made to 
 cleave unto him more than ever. O that 
 the remembrance of it might never wear off 
 from my mind. February 1." 
 
 " February 11. To-day about noon 
 themizen yard fell down, and was within a 
 few inches of killing the first lieutenant 
 and a midshipman, but fortunately did no 
 other damage than making a few dents in 
 
 *- j 
 
210 
 
 Mizen-yard fell down. 
 
 the quarter deck. I cannot forbear men- 
 tioning a particular circumstance with re- 
 gaixl to myself. It has been a constant 
 custom witli 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 yai'd fell. It 
 came down between the lieutenant and 
 the binnacle, the side I generally walk on 
 when we are upon deck together. Who 
 can tell what the event would have been, 
 had I been there. Sui'ely the Lord kept 
 me out of the w ay of harm.'* 
 
 The delays they had experienced from 
 «torms and contrary winds, excited an ap- 
 prehension tliat their stock of \\ ater 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 reported to equal that of 
 Tenerifte. M ith the view of it Lieutenant 
 B. appears to have been highly gratified. 
 
Reflections on seeing the Pico. 211 
 
 *' February 21. This morning, when 1 
 went upon deck, one of the most grand and 
 majestic objects that nature perhaps can 
 produce, presented itself to my view. I 
 was struck with wonder and amaze, hardly 
 satisfied that my eyes were well open ; 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 w ould pierce 
 the very battlements of heaven. I have 
 been the greatest part of the day, which 
 has been delightfully serene, contemplating 
 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 proudly 
 overlooks them as if it bad defiance to 
 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 
 
 9 J; 
 
 \"li 
 
212 
 
 He lands at Fayal. 
 
 thought ! 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, surrounded 
 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 distance. The 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 ex- 
 tremely fertile ; but its unthankful inhabit- 
 ants, eaten up with pride, superstition, 
 and idleness, know not how to enjoy it. 
 1 could hardly keep my temper when I 
 looked into their gardens and fields, and 
 saw them all overrun M'ith weeds, hardly 
 producing any thing but what nature of 
 her own accord, with little or none of their 
 
Account of the Island, 213 
 
 assistance, brought to maturity. Not a 
 single espalier could I perceive upon any 
 of their garden walls, though exposed to 
 the best advantage, and the climate one of 
 the finest in the world for producing 
 peaches, nectarines, apricots, and all other 
 kinds of wall-fruits : they contented them- 
 selves with having these things 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 such a beautiful 
 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 different 
 kinds, that they make up full a fourth, if 
 not a third. f\£ all fKo inlioki'^nw^^r, :>. 4^u. 
 
214 
 
 jyescription ofFayal, 
 
 island. Whether it be the custom of Poi-- 
 tugal, or the jealousy of the men, that 
 keeps the ladies within doors, I cannot say ; 
 but you v,i\\ seldom see a well-dressed 
 woman in the streets, except upon some 
 public occasion, or on a holiday, goinj? to 
 or coming from mass. Here they all dress 
 in black, and mostly in one way. The 
 churches in Fayal are quite the reverse of 
 their dwelling-houses, extremely clean, 
 eleg-antly and richly ornamented ; particu- 
 larly that lately occupied by the Jesuits, 
 now in the possession of the crown. The 
 grandeur of the adjoining convent, the 
 number and spaciousness of its apartments, 
 with the gardens, offices, and every thing 
 else belonging to it, sufficiently demon- 
 strate that they were no fools who built 
 such a commodious place to live in. With 
 all their wisdom and learning, however, 
 they are now scattered over the earth, like 
 vagabonds, hardly daring any where pub- 
 licly to shew their head^. God has not 
 suffered them to go unpunished, even in 
 this life. 
 
 *' 1 have seen a procession of all tlie dif- 
 
 LTCiil OiUCia Ui JUiUUKS, j7liC3i.-, qCMHJ 
 
 sxzxu 
 
Monkish Procession. 
 
 215 
 
 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 different streets 
 of the town ; the other two couple, with 
 still more pain, fastened together with a 
 strait 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 manner 
 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 carried 
 upon monks* shoulders. After this, came 
 the diflferent orders of friars, carrying larg'e 
 images of their respective saints, orna- 
 mented 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 cap ; ^vith a number of 
 other priests, singing, with music-books in 
 
216 
 
 Sails from Fayal. 
 
 their hands ; and others, tossing incense in 
 the air ; with all the gentry, male and fe- 
 male, walking behind them, and the rabble 
 bringing up the rear. — I could not forbear 
 offering up a hearty prayer, that the Lord 
 would open the eyes of these deluded 
 mortals, to see the truth as it is revealed in 
 the Scriptures. O my soul ! what reason 
 hast thou to be thankful, if he has shewn 
 thee how to worship him in spirit ! ' Be 
 not high minded, but fear.* " 
 
 On the 26th of February, they sailed 
 from Fayal. Dreading the Equinoctial 
 gales which were to be expected in the en- 
 suing month, the captain endeavoured 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 little or nothing, from tlie 
 preservation of himself and his companions 
 amidst the various dangers which had 
 threatened them. That he would, at some 
 stated seasons, assemble the crew under 
 his command, for the purpose of offering 
 up united praises, thanksgivings, and sup- 
 
Neglect of Divine Service, 2Vt 
 
 plications, from 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 re- 
 minded of an over-ruling Providence, by 
 the instances of his merciful interposition 
 which occurred even before the voyage 
 could be said to be begun. But with a 
 thoughtlessness, alas ! too common, this 
 duty had been altogether neglected for 
 many weeks. Whether any particular cir- 
 cumstance occasioned its commencement 
 Lieut, B. has not said : he records the fact 
 with his usual piety of observation. 
 
 March 11. Yesterday, for the first time 
 since the ship has been commissioned, we 
 had divine service read in the great cabin, 
 when the ship's company attended with a 
 great deal of seeming devotion, several of 
 them furnished with prayer-books, which 
 probably had not been much perused be- 
 fore. O how grievous it is that so ipany 
 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 
 
 L 
 
im' 
 
 218 Arrival at Boston^ N. A. 
 
 supplied with such as faithfully preach thy 
 gospel; and, whenever it is faithfully 
 preached, do thou give it success." 
 
 Nothing that requires our recital occurred 
 during the remainder of their voyage across 
 the Atlantic. On the 26th of March, 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 con- 
 strained to evacuate the town and retire on 
 board the fleet ; which retained possession 
 of Naiitasket-bay. Their safe arrival, and 
 the state in which they found public affairs 
 at Boston, were too important for a Chris- 
 tian and a lover of his country to pass with- 
 out 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 guide and 
 protector, while he is pleased to continue 
 our stay in this hostile country. God only 
 knows what will be the issue of this un- 
 natural war. Hitherto he has defeated all 
 our attempts, baffled our counsels, and give« 
 
chthy 
 :hfully 
 
 curred 
 across 
 1, after 
 il, and 
 , they 
 e their 
 n con- 
 itire on 
 session 
 al, and 
 ; affairs 
 Chris- 
 sswith- 
 
 10 hath 
 I safety, 
 lot. O 
 ide and 
 continue 
 lod only 
 this un- 
 ated all 
 adgive« 
 
 Hemarks on his Arrival. 2V9 
 
 repeated, unusual, and unexpected, success 
 to our enemies. We have not a foot of 
 ground here that we can call our own, but 
 a few small islands of no use, except one 
 on which we get a little fresh water. They 
 become stronger and strongerevery day, and 
 we weaker and weaker. What military 
 stores they wanted, we have supplied them 
 with, not being able to hinder their taking 
 them from us : provisions and other things, 
 with difficulty brought from England in 
 transports, have been seized before our eyes, 
 for the use of their army instead of ours : 
 and now, after much bloodshed, fatigue, 
 and hardship, we are obliged to fly, to avoid 
 starving, or surrendering ourselves prisoners 
 of war. March 27.*' 
 
 This month terminated with two more 
 escapes from shipwreck, which impressed 
 the mind of Lieut. B. with a sense of his 
 increasing obligation to the divine goodness, 
 and compelled even the lips of the profane 
 to acknowledge the hand of God in their 
 preservation, The Milford was ordered on 
 a cruise, to clear the coast from the enemy's 
 armed vessels. On the 30th Lieut. B, says, 
 
 1^% 
 
 pSu 
 
 mi 
 
 f 
 
220 Two Escapes from Shipwreck, 
 
 " In turning- out of the road, the ship missed 
 stays, just as we were close in with the rocks 
 on the Light-house island ; and was within 
 a few yards of being on shore : had she 
 missed stays a second time, she must inevi- 
 tably have been lost. We were all thoroughly 
 frightened at the danger,butnot half thank- 
 ful enough for the deliverence."— " 31st. 
 This afternoon, being able to see but a little 
 way a-head, we were within a trifle of foun- 
 dering on a rock near Marble-Head. After 
 this second escape, the captain said, in the 
 cabin, before several of his officers, ' Gen- 
 tlemen, you have heard me often say, and 
 1 repeat it again, since we sailed from Eng- 
 land, we have been so frequently upon the 
 brink of destruction, that nothing but the 
 goodness of God could have saved us from 
 it.' O how lamentable it is, to be brought 
 to acknowledge this truth with the lips, and 
 yet daily and hourly, by cursing, swearing, 
 and all mannerof blasphemy, to be ungrate- 
 fully sinning against that God who is so 
 very kind. Glory to his name for his long 
 forbearing mercy !" 
 
 It would be tedious to the reader to go 
 
Cruises of the Milford* 
 
 221 
 
 through the details which Lieut. B.'s jour- 
 nal contains of this and the subsequent 
 cruises of the Milford during her continu- 
 ance on the American station ; but as these 
 cruises occupied nearly two years of his . 
 life, we must not pass them without no- 
 ticing a few of the most interesting par- 
 ticulars.. 
 
 They sailed six times from Nantasket- 
 bay ; and, after the evacuation of that har- 
 bour, eight times from Halifax, in Nova 
 Scotia. The objects of these cruises were, 
 the protection of British vessels, and the 
 annoyance and capture of those of thp ene- 
 my. They seldom returned to either of 
 these ports without having done some exe- 
 cution ; though they had not the satisfaction 
 of achieving much towards promoting the 
 object of the war, and the advantages ac- 
 cruing to themselves, as captors, were very 
 inconsiderable. The acquisition of many 
 of these prizes could neither benefit the 
 general cause of Britain, nor could their 
 loss materially injure that of America, 
 though it inflicted distress and ruin on in- 
 dividual proprietors. Lieut. B.'s reflectionv 
 
222 Specimen of generous Conduct 
 
 after two such captures, shew that the spirit 
 of the soldier had not blunted the sensibility 
 of the man. 
 
 " These prizes are of little or no value to 
 us, because we can get nobody to purchase 
 them : but the poor unhappy people that lose 
 them, lose their all. It would rend a heart 
 of stone, to see the sorrow that is pahited in 
 their countenances when they are brought 
 on board. Some of them retire into cor- 
 ners and weep like children. If you ask 
 what is the matter, a ilood of tears is the 
 an8>ver. Sometimes you will hear them 
 sob out — My wife, my children ! what will 
 become of them ? I have been more than 
 once obliged to avoid the aifecting sight, 
 unable to restrain my own tears, or prevent 
 theirs. We do all we can to make their 
 situation easy to them ; but we dare not re- 
 store them their liberty or property." 
 
 Amidst the devastations of ^hese petty 
 hostilities, Lieut. B. found it soothing to 
 his heart to record two cases, in which the 
 amiable charities of our nature prevailed 
 over the rules of war, and the rights of 
 capture were relinquished. On a sloop 
 
in British Mariners, 
 
 223 
 
 being taken, " bound to Nantucket, with 
 three quakers on board," he says, "we 
 unanimously consented to give them up 
 their vessel, on condition that they would 
 give half their cargo" to three other quakers, 
 the proprietors of a sloop that had been 
 taken a little before. The other case was 
 of a sloop which had sailed from Nantucket 
 with " two quakers on board : whose des- 
 perate situation in the present dispute," 
 Lieut. B. says, " we have hitherto pitied, 
 and on that account returned the poor 
 creatures their sloop, though contrary to 
 the act of parliament, and only took out 
 of her a few bushels of corn." 
 
 In these various cruises, they took more 
 than thirty prizes, besides recaptures. Most 
 of their prizes, however, w ere of little value : 
 several of them they scuttled and sunk im- 
 mediately ; and several others which they 
 sent off to Halifax, were either lost or re- 
 taken before they could reach that port. 
 The claim of salvage on some of the re- 
 captures was disputed, and if ultimately 
 ^recovered, was much diminished by the 
 expenses of litigation. The prize-money 
 gained by Lieutenant B. in this lonj^ 
 
 •1 
 
 Mi 
 
 II 
 
S'X' 
 
 Appearance of a Ship's Deck 
 
 voyage, therefore, must have been incon- 
 sidferable ; 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 Halifax. 
 
 Though most of the vessels were taken 
 without any fighting, yet some of them made 
 sufiicient resistance to impress the mind of 
 Lieiit. B. with a deep sense of the goodness 
 of God in preserving him from all injury. 
 This impression, on one occasion in par- 
 ticular, received additional force from the 
 scene which he beheld on boaiding the 
 conquered ship, and which he thus de- 
 scribes: " The mangled bodies of my fel- 
 low-creatures lying pale and breathless on 
 the deck ; somp dying, and others begging 
 me to put ..*ci.i out of their misery; while a 
 hungry dog was feeding on the blood that 
 was streaming all about the ship ; exhibited 
 a spectacle that would have extorted tears of 
 compassion from the bitterest enemy, and 
 the sigh of pity from the hardest heart. 
 The captain and first lieutenant wounded, 
 the latter dangerously ; the first pilot and 
 
after an Engagement, 2I2& 
 
 ten more men killed ; twelve men wounded, 
 some of them mortally ; but, what in^ 
 astonishing, and ought to stamp lasting gra- 
 titude on the heart of every man on board 
 the Milford, we had but one man slightly 
 wounded in the arm ; some had their 
 clothes shot through, some the skin grazed, 
 and others the hair shot off their heads ; 
 but every shot was directed by the hand of 
 God to do us no other harm. Examining 
 the different shot that took place in the Mil- 
 ford, every one is ready to exclaim, * What 
 a wonder nobody was killed.* O that w^ 
 could but be truly thankful to him to whom 
 alone we are indebted for this favour." 
 
 Lieutenant B. contemplated approach- 
 ing danger with the magnanimity of a 
 soldier and the resignation of a Chris- 
 tian. In the expectation of an engage- 
 ment, which he thought likely to be a 
 very bloodly one, he writes : " The Lord 
 only knows to which side the victory 
 will incline. That 1 desire to submit to 
 his blessed will, and only pray that, living 
 or dying, I may be eternally his. If he 
 guards my head in the day of battle, may 
 
 L 5 
 
I 
 
 226 Interposition of Divint Mercy » 
 
 my future life be wholly devoted to his 
 glory : or if he should see it more for his 
 glory and my everlasting welfare to take 
 me suddienly out of this life, may I, through 
 a Redeemer's merits, be prepared to go, 
 and instantly mingle with that happy mul- 
 titude who surround the throne, and un- 
 ceasingly sing the praises of the Lamb." 
 
 Beside the perils of battle, Lieut. B. had 
 also some other remarkable escapes from 
 dangers which seemed to threaten sudden 
 death. In Halifax harbour, when the men- 
 of-war were firing, on the queen's birth-day, 
 an accidental shot from a neighbouring ship 
 went close over the quarter-deck, where the 
 first lieutenant of the Milford and Lieut. B. 
 were walking together, and was within a 
 very little of taking off both their heads. 
 A few months after, a heavy block fell from 
 the main-top, and gave him a very severe 
 blow on the arm : had the blow been on 
 bis head, it would certainly have terminated 
 his life. He mentions both these circum- 
 stances in terms dictated by the gratitude 
 of his heart for such repeated and signal 
 interpositions of divine mercy. 
 
 Il 
 
Evacuation of Nantucket, 227' 
 
 On the want of ability which charac- 
 terized many of the operations of the British 
 commanders in America, Lieut. B. agrees 
 with all who have written on the subject. 
 But in his remarks on the grand movements 
 of the war, or on the proceedings of par- 
 ticular officers, though he sometimes criti- 
 cises the conduct of men, he never loses 
 sight of a divine providence directing and 
 controlling all. 
 
 On the evacuation of Nantucket, his 
 patriotic regret is mingled with pious re- 
 signation. ** What shall we do now? The 
 last place of shelter we had upon the coast 
 is ours no more. Poor old England loses 
 ground daily. It is very discouraging to 
 one who loves his country, to see matters 
 carried on as they are. But what shall we 
 say ? The fate of all nations is in the hand 
 of the Almighty. He casts down one and 
 raises up another. May my heart be brought 
 to say, His sovereign will be done !'* 
 
 On the arrival of Lord Howe to take the 
 chief command, Lieut. B. makes the fol- 
 lowing observations : " Great things are 
 expected from biiU} but unless God be 
 
228 ReflecHoM on the Conduct 
 
 with him we shall see him guided by the 
 same spirit of error and inconsistency 
 which deems to have planned and executed 
 all the operations of his predecessors in 
 command here, since the unhappy dispute 
 began. There is really something remark- 
 able in this. There is hardly an officer 
 with any command on the station, howe\(er 
 brave and sagacious before, that has acted 
 in this affair with any degree of resolution, 
 or even with common sense. A general 
 murmur against them is heard wherever 
 you go. I sometimes think that God has 
 determined to establish the Americans in 
 their new government ; and at other times*, 
 that they are only favoured for a while, 
 that the vengeance of the Almighty may 
 fall the more heavily upon them. However, 
 1 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 en- 
 titled to commendation, but much that 
 was desei-ving of censure. W hatever other 
 qualities he may have possessed, he dis- 
 
•f the Officers. 
 
 22d 
 
 covered no pre-eminence of courage. " Thii 
 morning," says Lieutenant B. « was ushered 
 in with frowns and loots of contempt from 
 every officer in 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 diffi- 
 cult one, to keep my murmuring spirit 
 within any tolerable bounds. — ^To see my 
 country, as it were, left to the mercy of 
 such men, 1 can hardly contain from freely 
 speaking out the sentiments of my mind. 
 What an eye-sore might this fine sailing 
 •hip be to the rebels, were she commanded 
 by a spirited active man ; and what advan- 
 tage, 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, what 
 little good we do, is what we cannot possi- 
 bly avoid doing. — J bus I reason : but do 
 I reason justly ? That I doubt. Had the 
 Lord seen it best to put a brave sensible 
 man in the Milford instead of the one he 
 did, it certainly would have been done. 
 
 r 
 
 m 
 
230 
 
 General Murmurs on 
 
 ' 
 
 'M : 
 
 Why, then, should I be repining at the all- 
 wise dispensations of Providence V* 
 
 Whatever the judgment disapproves, it 
 is natural to regard with feelings of dis- 
 pleasure ; 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 ex- 
 citing such feelings ; yet he appears to have 
 been preserved from any excess of irritation 
 or fretfulness, by a habit of contemplating 
 every event as included in the general 
 scheme of divine administration; and, whe- 
 ther originating in the wisdom or folly, 
 in the integrity or wickedness, of human 
 agents, as divinely designed or over-ruled 
 for ultimate good. The preceding pas- 
 sages can have left no doubt of the correct- 
 ness of this observation, which we shall 
 content ourselves with confirming by one 
 extract more. It would be easy to increase 
 their number, but this would carry us too 
 far into the details of the voyage. 
 
 '* Being now all ready for sea at a mo- 
 ment's warning, nothing but a constant 
 
r Account of unnecessary Detention. 231 
 
 murmur is to be heard, both ashore and on 
 board, at our being detained in harbour, 
 when we might, at this fine season 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 pro- 
 vidence may clearly demonstrate, 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 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 pro- 
 bability, 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 nu- 
 merical strength would have left no room 
 for exertions of courage or skill ; resistance 
 would have been rashness ; and nothing 
 
5 
 
 232 Tedious Passage of the Mtlford 
 
 could have awaited them but an immediate 
 surrender and an inglorious captivity. 
 Lieutenant B. mentions this escape, with 
 the following recollections : " About three 
 weeks ago we were murmuring against the 
 commodore, at Halifax, for detaining us so 
 long in a harbour. It certainly was wrong. 
 But 1 said then, if we would but wait 
 patiently, we might see the hand of Provi- 
 dence stretched out on our behalf even in 
 this respect." 
 
 On another occasion, when contrary 
 winds delayed them on their passage to a 
 port where a force was collecting to attack 
 th#» enemy by land. Lieutenant B. remarks 
 in the same piou3 strain : " All hands mur- 
 muring, to see th« present expedition so 
 much retarded by means which we cannot 
 possibly prevent. Heaven frequently, by 
 such perplexing providences as these, en- 
 deavours to convince sinful mortals where 
 they ought to apply for every necessary 
 assistance in carrying on their under- 
 takings. But, alas ! how few among them 
 attend to these friendly admonitions !" 
 Some days after he says, ** No appearanct 
 
to the Place of Rendezvous, tf^^ 
 
 of a fair wind yet. Our stock of patience 
 quite worn out. The Lord has surely some 
 hidden purpose concerning us, that we are 
 thus «o long detained from proceeding on 
 our intended expedition. A very little 
 time, perhaps, will manifest his gracious 
 designs in our favour, though we deserve 
 nothing but wrath at his hands. O that 
 we could be brought to give up ourselves 
 and our concerns wholly to his manage- 
 «ient ! contrary winds would not then dis- 
 turb as they have for some days past." 
 
 The event proved that the tedious pas- 
 sage of the Milford to the place of rendez- 
 vous was the means of preventing an ex- 
 pedition in which Lieutenant B. and his 
 party of marines were to have been par- 
 ticularly engaged : an expedition, which 
 must have caused a wanton waste of mili- 
 tary strength, in which British valour would 
 probably have achieved heroic exploits, but 
 in which no real service to the cause eould 
 possibly have been performed. *' Surely," 
 says Lieut. B. " the hand of Providence is 
 here, marked in the most legible characters, 
 O my soul ! never dare to murmur at 
 
 tm 
 
tiS4 Reflections on the State 
 
 delays for the future, or presume to dictate 
 to the Almighty." 
 
 During his stay at this place of rendez- 
 vous, Lieutenant B. was gratified with op- 
 portunities of seeing many of the North 
 American Indians. Some of the ungrate- 
 ful sons of Britain have betrayed so grovel- 
 ling a taste, as to prefer the barbarism of 
 savage life and the gloom of superstition, 
 to the refinements and comforts of civiliza- 
 tion 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, I have had 
 the pleasure of seeing something of the 
 manners, customs, and way of living, of 
 that savage race. But, O my God ! what 
 reason have I to bless thee for giving me 
 a being in a Christian country. These 
 poor wretches are enveloped in ignorance 
 and thick darkness, out of which they nei- 
 ther expect nor wish to be extricated. 
 Some years ago, when the French possessed 
 this country, they took great pains to in- 
 
^f the North American Indians. 235 
 
 «tfuct the Indians in the Roman-catholic 
 religion ; to which they still seem to ad- 
 here, but how far they have been bettered 
 by it, is hard to say. However, their at- 
 tachment to it at this day, plainly shews 
 what great success might be hoped for, if 
 the gospel were faithfully preached among 
 them. But, alas ! the Protestant inhabit- 
 ants, in general, of this province, less de- 
 serve the name of Christians than the 
 Indians themselves. Faithful, laborious 
 ministers are wanted by thousands in the 
 northern parts of America. In some places 
 there are none of any kind for a thousand 
 miles round, or where there are, they lead 
 the people astray. O happy, thrice happy 
 old England, did you but know it !" 
 
 On returning to Halifax the last time 
 but 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 favouv ; some so singular and con- 
 •picuous, that the most profane amongus 
 
296 
 
 Reflections on the 
 
 cannot forbear taking notice 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 perfect health, though it is natural 
 to suppose we should be the most sickly, 
 from our having so many troops and pri- 
 soners 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 containing a hundred, unfit for duty, 
 and dying : we have but four men who ail 
 any thing, and they walk the deck ; though 
 we have now in this «mall frigate three 
 hundred and fifty souls. O that we had 
 but grace to be thankful !" 
 
 In the course of the last cruise, which 
 lasted about seven weeks, they met with 
 several very remarkable deliverances from 
 the jaws of death. At such seasons of 
 trouble, in a peculiar manner, Lieut. B. 
 felt it to be both his duty and his privilege 
 to call upon God ; and h«» has recorded 
 many instances of preservation, which he 
 considered as answers to his prayers. " O 
 
healthy State of the Crew, ^c, 237 
 
 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 can be compared with this. 
 Here I can get freely, for Christ's sake, 
 what gold cannot purchase,— the protection 
 of the Almighty." 
 
 The best of men have shewn the most 
 rigid severity in the judgments which they 
 have passed upon their own conduct. Com- 
 paring themselves with the standard of 
 Christian perfection, and the claims of in- 
 finite goodness, they have often confessed 
 and lamented, great defects and small at- 
 tainments, even in those parts of their cha- 
 racters in which they have excelled the 
 generality of their fellow-Christians. Few 
 men have been more submissive to divine 
 allotments, or more grateful for divine in- 
 terpositions, than Lieut. B. ; yet, on this 
 very cruise, he seems to include himself 
 with his companions in the following con- 
 fession : *« Though we are always ready to 
 murmur against a God of providence, when 
 his ways seem to thwart our selfish inclina- 
 tions, we are not so apt to acknowledge his 
 
238 
 
 R0ections on 
 
 \ 
 
 goodness, when things are brought about 
 to our utmost wishes in an unexpected 
 manner." 
 
 On returning once more to Hahfax, he 
 •ays : " This last cruise will prove one of 
 the least advantageous of any we have had 
 on the coast ; but I hope I shall ever re- 
 member it as one of the most fortunate : 
 it exhibits so many instances of a divine 
 providence displayed in our behalf. — In 
 this fVail, imperfect, sinful, state, we may 
 now and then get a glimpse of some of the 
 outlines of that amazing plan by which the 
 God of providence directs and rules over 
 all his creatures. But, to trace all the 
 mysterious, intricate, windings and turn- 
 ings 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 in another world. Yet 
 even here, the displays of his goodness are 
 BO manifest and numerous, that, to the at- 
 tentive observer,* they cannot but afford a 
 continual feast of solid pleasure. What we 
 once thought our greatest misfortune, we 
 now see proves to be our greatest ipercy.— « 
 
an unproductive Cruise 239 
 
 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 en-, 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 ship- 
 wrecked in Halifax-harbour, by a violent 
 storm, of which Lieutenant B. gives the 
 following account : 
 
 " Dec. 14, 1777. Bless the Lord, O my 
 soul ; and 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 
 ship yesterday afternoon, having every 
 thing snug; no foremast, no masts or yarda 
 aloft, we imagined ourselves perfectly se- 
 cure. But how insufficient are all human 
 precautions, when they oppose the mini- 
 sters of the Almighty's vengeance ! We are 
 too apt to dread the approach of danger 
 W)i«n it is furthest off, aad to think it at 9, 
 
240 
 
 Violent Storm, 
 
 i 
 
 distance when it is very near. We went 
 to bed in the greatest security ; but between 
 three and four this morning, there came 
 on such a violent hurricane, that, before 
 we could well get our clothes on, the ehip 
 snapped both her cables in two, like a 
 rotten thread, and drove with amazing ve- 
 locity, we knew not whither, so that every 
 body was looking out for instant destruc- 
 tion. 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 quarter-deck, shaved off 
 the head of another, and a few minutes 
 after ran ashore on a heavy surf. We 
 began firing guns of distress, and the 
 mizen-mast was ordered to be cut away ; 
 but before it received a single stroke of an 
 axe, the violence of the wind snapped it 
 off 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 Almighty to abate the wind ; the sea 
 instantly went down ; and shores being 
 fixed to keep tlie ship upright, we lay 
 
The Milford trdered Home. iUl 
 quiet till day-break. Then ^e found we 
 
 had been drive„a„i,efron.„„..n,oo?n; 
 and had been providentially directed to a 
 spot of sand, close to a ledge of rocL 
 where, had we touched *!.„ ' 
 
 «usthavebeenS"'''''°""'l"^"^« 
 The damage sustained by the Milfbrd 
 
 eol rT' T''^'^ ''''^' -^k« to 
 repa r. Before those repai,^ were finished 
 
 Lieutenant B. had reason to expect that 
 
 .m.ned^te.y on their completionrth^sS 
 would be sent home ; but he was altogether 
 
 mcertam whether it would be his lotto 
 ret„..oEng,a„dinher,ortoren.aini: 
 
 " ^''■- 27. The Milford is ordered 
 
 home, and we are now fitting her out with 
 
 he greatest expedition for the purpose 
 
 but whether it wil, please God to'lend ^e 
 
 home ,„ her is yet very doubtful : as the 
 
 mannes of the ships that went home last 
 year, Mere taken out just be'fo,^ they sailed 
 
 At any rate, if the commodore dL noi 
 ohange h.s mind, this sudden measure 
 must produce a great change in my situa- 
 fon. Nothing that I can possibly conceive 
 
 in 
 
242 Refiections at the Close 
 
 in this life, could pfive me so much plea- 
 sure and satisfdctioii, as being once more 
 comfortably fixed with my wife and chil- 
 dren. But if it be the Lord's will to de- 
 termine it otherwise, my heart Ji^ceives me 
 very much, if, after a few struggles, it does 
 not cheerfully acquiesce in the decree of 
 Providence. Let me go or stay, my whole 
 heart and soul sh^l cry. The will of the 
 Lord be done." 
 
 The same pious spirit dictated the re- 
 fiections which closed the year. 
 
 " Dec. 31. This day finishes a year in 
 which the Almighty has given such nu- 
 merous displajs of his goodness, in the 
 various dispensations of his providence, as 
 call aloud for my most sincere and fervent 
 devotion, gratitude, and praise. In the 
 midst of a gain-saying world, who pride 
 themselves in ridiculing the ways of God 
 to man, let my soul daily meditate, witJi 
 inward pleasufe, on that amazing and in- 
 finite wisdom by which the Creator directs 
 and governs the inconceivably numerous 
 concerns of his creatures, for his glory and 
 their good. The wicked, blinded by sin, 
 
•/Me rear 1777. 243 
 
 cannot discern the smallest link of this 
 •■ham. It is the peculiar privilege of the 
 humble Christian alone, not onl^ to pei-! 
 ceive and mark the dealings of God with 
 men, but likewise, in what more particu- 
 larly regards himself, to rely on his wisdom 
 and goodness with solid confidence and 
 P.OUS unconcern.-O my soul, solemnly 
 inquire, .s this thy case ? to give „p Z 
 whole management of all thy concerns into 
 his hands? Then thou mayest safely pro- 
 nounce thyself a happy man : for the oracles 
 of truth declaie that " blessed are all thev 
 that put their trust in him." Afflictions 
 Diay cpme ; distresses of various kinds fol 
 lo)v one after another: but be not dis- 
 mayed ; patiently wait the issue ; and thev 
 «hal prove powerful instruments in the 
 hands of a Redeemer to promote thy real 
 happmess—Yet a little while, and the 
 whole mystery shall b. unravelled, bias- 
 phemmg men confounded, the «ays of 
 God justified, and his humble followers 
 eternally rewarded." 
 
 In the same devotional state of mind 
 Lieut. B. entered upon the next year, ' 
 
 M 2 
 
244 
 
 On quitting Halifax; 
 
 " Jan . 1, 1778. As enabled by the gi-ace 
 of God, I have this day solemnly devoted 
 myself to the service of that Redeemer who 
 gave himself for me ; desiring and fully 
 resolving to watch against all those easily 
 besetting sins, which have so often robbed 
 me of that sweet peace and fellowship which 
 the sincere followers of the Lamb enjoy 
 with their Master, even in this imperfect 
 fetate. — O my soul, consider how abund- 
 antly gracious the Lord has been to thee 
 during the past year ; and let not the low 
 enjoyments of this life have the pre-emi- 
 nence in thy affection ; but seek, cherish, 
 and improve, all those means by which thy 
 love to God and his ways may daily in- 
 crease till thou art prepared for the enjoy- 
 ment of him in Heaven. Amen. Lord, 
 help me." 
 
 While he continued in suspense respect- 
 ing his own destination he says : *' Jan. 14. 
 I have been enabled to set apart a day for 
 prayer and supplication at the throne of 
 grace for the following things i—that I 
 may be allowed to go home in the ship : — 
 that we may have a safe and prosperous 
 
assailed bi/ a Sterm. 245 
 
 passage .-that I may find my wife and 
 children m health,and growing in grace:- 
 that I may find the children of God with 
 whom I am connected, increased in num. 
 ber, loving Christ and one another, and 
 blessed with every grace of the Holy Spirit • 
 -and that when I join them I may be 
 more zealous for God, more holy, more 
 humble, and more circumspect than ever 
 These petitions and many more, I humbly 
 trust, for Christ's sake, have this day been 
 neard." 
 
 The first petition was soon granted ; and 
 on the twenty.seventh of January Lieut B 
 had the pleasure of sailing from Halifax, 
 When they were more than halfway across 
 the Atlantic, they were assailed by a storm, 
 which, for two days, seemed to menace 
 them with instant death ; the deliverance 
 from which he numbers amongst his most 
 signal mercies. - Never let my soul forget 
 how my heart failed me, my limbs shook 
 with fear, and every moment threatened 
 instant destruction; that when 1 cried to 
 the God of Heaven, though he delayed for 
 * ^ime, yet at last he graciously heard^ 
 
246 Jietums to his Family. 
 
 May my children after me, attentively mark 
 this in the day of their trouble, and say : 
 Our father cried to God in the midst of his 
 distress, and was heard : we will likewise 
 approach the mercy-seat and there make 
 all our wants known ; for God is full of 
 compassion, and will surely bless the seek- 
 ing soul.'* 
 
 After a passage of twenty days from 
 Halifax, the Milford was safely anchored 
 at Spithead. It soon became matter of 
 universal astonishment that she had es- 
 caped foundering ; for when the bottom 
 was examined, the main keeJ was found to 
 be b oken in two. 
 
 On the twenty-eighth of February, Lieut. 
 B. says: " This afternoon, by the blessing 
 of God, I arrived safe at home, to the great 
 joy of my family, all of whom I found m 
 tolerable health. I would now pour out my 
 »oul in gratitude to that indulgent Father, 
 who for above these two years past hath so 
 amazingly preserved me. When I look 
 back upon the path 1 liave travelled, there 
 is a redundancy of fove and mer j attend- 
 ing every step. O Lord ! 1 adore and 
 
Employed in the Rectuking Service, 247 
 
 bless thee ; and from the bottom of my 
 soul desire to be wholly thine." 
 
 The happiness which Lieutenant B. en- 
 joyed in the bosom of his family and the 
 society of his friends, was not to continue 
 long uninterrupted. At the end of ten 
 weeks, he was ordered on the recruiting 
 service. In this service he spent above six 
 months, principally at Bristol ; returning to 
 head-quarters with recruits, and so having 
 the opportunity of seeing his family two 
 or three times during that period. 
 
 From this part of the journal, we cannot 
 forbear transcribing an incidental attesta- 
 tion to the practical efficacy of a doctrine, 
 which its rejectors have stigmatised as 
 " relaxing the obligations of virtue ;" we 
 mean the doctrine of atonement for sin br 
 the death of Christ. 
 
 '* Yesterday morning I had some glances 
 of the preciousness of Jesus and his great 
 
 salvation, and in the evening Mr. 
 
 preached an excellent sermon, which filled 
 me with holy ardour to know and enjoy 
 more and more of that glorious subject. O 
 how the truths of the gospel, when preached 
 
 'II 
 
S48 
 
 Practical Efficae;, of the 
 
 .n their purity, lead the soul to pant after 
 
 JohnessII^WIleavetbUteiyTe 
 
 h^d me; that I never ,vi«hed nor wrestled 
 half so much to be ho/y, as when I saw my 
 sins wholly done away in Christ " 
 On being called in from recruiting, he 
 
 -ys: "lam not a little ple.^dthis'^i 
 agreeable service is over for the present • 
 though ,t is not at all improbable that I 
 may very soon be engaged in it again. In 
 
 thatcaselshallnotbesomucLalo^l 
 how to act, as I have been lately : but 
 
 upon the whole, I have reason to be thank.' 
 ful, I have lost nothing by it ; and, I trust 
 
 dunng my stay at Bristol, 1 have gained 
 
 The last month of this year Lieut B 
 rema.„e,l at Chatham. He entered on the 
 year 1779 w.th the prospect of being soon 
 ordered „„ more active service, a„d „,,h 
 sentiments suitable to such an expectation 
 Jan 1,1779. I can truly ,ay witji 
 the royal psalmist, The Lonl crowneth tl^ 
 .year w,th his goodness ; „r I ba,| „ever 
 liver hved to see the begi„..iug of .bin ,|„v. 
 
Doctrine of the Atonement 249 
 
 What trials, dangers, and temptations, 
 await me this year, the gieat Rnler of all 
 only knows. Were I to judge according 
 to outward appearances, I might tremble 
 at the prospect of what I am likely to ffo 
 through. But the Lord reigneth, a.^d 
 hath the management of all my concerns 
 in his own hands ; so that I have only to 
 wait, in tl»e means of faith and prayer to 
 i-eceive the blessing. At present I bless 
 his name that, contrary to all I could hare 
 expected, but in answer to fervent prayer, 
 I enjoy the happiness of being with my 
 family : but I am every day looking out 
 for a remove 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 war 
 before me, yet I am confident, th.e same 
 God who preserved me during the last two 
 or three years in America, can preserve 
 me any where else, and in him alone I p„t 
 my trust. I hope I can say, 1 this evening 
 tasted a little of his love, as a happy earnest 
 that he will never leave me nor forsake 
 
 Jtie. 
 
 m5 
 
 I 
 
250 Embarks on Board the Eagle, 
 
 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 immediately to Portsmouth 
 on board the Eagle. This dispensation of 
 Providence did not affect me much at first, 
 being fully convinced I could not be much 
 longer ashore ; and I thought it rather 
 favourable to be sent no further than Ports- 
 mouth ; but towards evening, having re- 
 ceived certain accounts that the ship was 
 going immediately to India, I could hardly 
 bear the melancholy idea of so long a 
 separation from all that is dear to me in 
 the world. But looking up to that com- 
 passionate God who protected me in Ame- 
 rica, I comforted myself with the hope that, 
 unworthy as I am, he would bless me m 
 the East Indies, and in his own good time 
 bring me back again, Now I experiment- 
 ally know the great and inestimable ad- 
 vantage of having been taught to confide 
 in God. May his grace be «uffi.:ient for 
 me." 
 
 After a few days spent in preparation 
 
for Service in India. 
 
 251 
 
 for the voyage, Captain B. took leave of 
 his family with feelings more easily con# 
 ceived than described. " Dreadful morn- 
 ing this !'* says he, " I cannot describe it. 
 Those who have such an affectionate wife 
 and such engaging pledges of the purest 
 love, may guess what I suiferd when obliged 
 to leave them." He lost no time in pro- 
 <;eeding to Portsmouth ; and in less than a 
 fortnight from the date of the order, he en» 
 tered upon duty on board the Eagle. 
 
 While the vessel lay at Spithead, there 
 was some probability of Captain B. being 
 relieved by another officer ; and he was 
 •encouraged to write both to the General 
 and to the Admiralty with the hope of ac- 
 complishing this object But, though his 
 application was granted by the General, 
 he failed of obtaining his wish ; for the 
 captain who was ordered to replace him, 
 took care not to arrive at Portsmouth iu 
 lime. 
 
 Captain B. viewed this disappointment 
 as the direction of him wlio gov**^*i8 ali 
 mortal things, and managrf> even , e mi- 
 l^utest atiairs with a £|jia^ial regurd to the 
 
 
252 Reasons for hot suppressing 
 
 good of those who serve him and trust in 
 his mercy. " Now," says he, the day be- 
 fore they sailed, " I have given up every 
 hope of being relieved from this India 
 voyage ; and I trust the Lord will ere long 
 make me to see it was good for me I had 
 not my own will/* 
 
 Here we have felt an inclination to in- 
 troduce, as a specimen of Captain B/s 
 journals, the whole of his journal of this 
 voyage; but, lest its length and minuteness 
 of detail should be tedious to the reader, 
 we shall content ourselves with giving a 
 copious abstract, by transcribing a series 
 of passages, which will include all the 
 principal circumstances attending him, 
 and will also exhibit a faithful picture of 
 the state of his mind during this and the 
 following year. 
 
 The fidelity to which we have pledged 
 ourselves, and which a sense of duty im- 
 periously demands, obliges us to bjing 
 forward some extracts which perhaps may 
 not be received m ith universal approbation. 
 Some readers may entertain an opinion 
 tliat we ought to have suppressed all Cap- 
 
 
sotne Parts of the Journal. 253 
 
 tain B.'s confessions, complaints, and la- 
 mentations, respeeting- his own infirmities 
 and sins, the evils of his heart, his little 
 improvement under divine discipline, thje 
 weakness of his faith in the Redeemer, and 
 the languor of his zeal in the cause of 
 God. 
 
 We would request such persons to con- 
 sider, — that our business is, to represent 
 the actions and feelings of real life, not 
 the visionary creations of romance ;— that 
 absolute perfection has never existed in 
 any human character ;— that the brief ac- 
 counts of holy men, contained in the Scrip- 
 tures, comprise both excellencies and de- 
 fects; — that the the most pious in all 
 ages have made similar confessions and 
 complaints of that internal opposition of 
 natural depravity against the principle of 
 grace, which the language of inspiration 
 designates as "the flesh lusting against 
 the spirit;"— and that one in particular, 
 whose attainments in piety there is no 
 reason to believe have ever be«n surpassed 
 by any of the servants of God or disciples 
 of Clirist, — while he was enabled to say, '* I 
 
 ^ 
 
254 
 
 Religion is not 
 
 delight in the law of God after the inward 
 man," was at the same time constrained to 
 add, " but I see another law in my members 
 warring against the law of my mind, and 
 bringing me into captivity to the law of 
 sm. 
 
 It must likewise be remembered, that 
 these confessions and complaints relate not 
 to a practical course of open transgression, 
 but chiefly to those obliquities of heart, 
 and that want of complete conformity to 
 the divine law which are unobserved and 
 unsuspected by the world at large, and of 
 which the true Christian himself is alone 
 conscious. 
 
 Nor will these statements authorize a 
 conclusion that religion is destructive of 
 happiness. The present world, even to 
 good men, affords no scenes of unmixed 
 enjoyment : thetf are reserved for a state 
 puritied from all sin. But though the 
 subject of this internal warfare finds it a 
 source of pain and sadness, it is a pain 
 attendant with pleasure ; it is ** a sadness 
 by which the heart is made better." The 
 most a^icted of Christians would disdain to 
 
destructive of true Pleasure, 255 
 
 exchange 
 Those heart-^nnoblinjf sorrows, for the lot 
 Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd 
 Of mute barbarians bending to his nod. 
 And bears aloft his gold-invested front. 
 And says within himself, — I am a king, 
 And wherefore should the clam'rous voice of woe 
 Intrude upon mine ear ? 
 
 Though he mourns that " the flesh lusteth 
 against the spirit," he rejoices that " the 
 spirit lusteth against the, flesh." While it 
 is admitted that his " heart knoweth its 
 own bitterness," it may also be affirmed 
 that " a stranger intermeddleth not with 
 his joy." 
 
 A keen and growing sensibility to every 
 appearance of evil, a conviction of his 
 weakness and inability 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 application 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 tH)ntributes to the for- 
 mation and progress of the Christian cha- 
 
S56 Scoffers are real Enthusiasts, 
 
 racter, which, with all the imperfections 
 adhering to it in the present life, entitles 
 its possessor to be denominated righteous, 
 and justifies the assertion of Solomon, that 
 *' the righteous is more excellent than his 
 " neighbour." 
 
 Among the readers of these volumes 
 there may probably be some, by whom our 
 remarks, as well as many passages of Cap- 
 tain B/s journals, will be derided as the 
 reveries of enthiisiasm. But if the term 
 enthusiasm be used to denote any thing 
 worse than an ardent devotion of soul to- 
 wards an object or pursuit worthy of the 
 energies it excites ; — if it signifies an at- 
 tention to any object beyond what its im- 
 portance demands, and a culpable neglect 
 of that which deserves supreme attention; — 
 we will venture to inquire, which is the 
 enthusiast P — the Christian, who seeks the 
 favour of God and the salvation of Christ as 
 the chief good, and treats the interests of 
 time as inferior to those of eternity ? — or 
 the man who, regardless alike of the calcu- 
 lations of reason and the warning of revela- 
 tion, wastes all his energies on a hfe that 
 
Harassed hy Sea-sickness. 257 
 
 will soon expire, and makes no preparation 
 for a state which will never end ? Leaving 
 the charge of enthusiasm to recoil upon its 
 authors, we proceed with the journal. 
 
 " March 7, 1779. This morning the 
 whole East-India fleet, under the command 
 of Sir Edward Hughes, got under sail with 
 a fair wind. — Now, my soul, look back, 
 and see how the Lord has defeated all my 
 efforts, and every hope of being delivered 
 ftom this long voyage, and say without 
 murmuring. His sovereign will be done. 
 Grant that with all humility and patience 
 I may ever submit to what thou ordainest; 
 and while through thy grace I shall be en- 
 abled to trace thy footsteps in the various 
 dispensations of thy providence, may I 
 every day have fresh cause to cry out, Good 
 is the Lord, just and righteous are all his 
 ways." 
 
 *' March 12. These four days I have 
 suffered not a little from sea-sickness. O 
 that it might be useful to me, as the happy 
 means of leading me nearer to God, and 
 reminding me that ere long 1 must put off 
 this mortal frame, and launch into eternity. 
 
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^^ 
 
 Meditations, 
 
 Blessed Jesus ! thou didst die for sinners : 
 my hope is fixed alone on thee. O prepare 
 me for the destined hour, come when it 
 will, at sea or on shore, in India or in 
 England ; that when I go hence I may re- 
 joice in the sure and certain hope of im- 
 mortality. 
 
 i29; To-day I had just time to seize a 
 favourable opportunity of writing to one 
 fiir dearer to me than life itself. May the 
 blessing of HeaveA ever remain with her 
 and the dear pledges of our mutual love. 
 The thought of a long separation from 
 them still lies heavy on my mind, though 
 1 bless God I am more reconciled to it thaa 
 I was at first: I am every day more and 
 more convinced it is the Lord's will it 
 should be so ; and my whole dependence 
 is on him. 
 
 24. Since I have been in this ship, 
 many concurring circumstances, several 
 trials, and the prospect of a long voyage, 
 have forced me as it were to let go my 
 eager grasp of every worldly enjoyment : 
 and if I am not deceived, I have been 
 hereby led to look more steadfastly to 
 
Mxtraists fr6m his Journal, 259 
 
 Heaven, and to pray earnestly that my 
 heart may be set on things above, which 
 will never cloy, and of which 1 can never 
 be deprived, if, through Christ, 1 can once 
 lay a solid claim to them. To-day 1 began 
 to exhort the party of marines under my 
 direction in this ship, by speaking to one 
 at a time in my cabin : a duty that has lain 
 much upon my mind, but which I am Sure 
 1 shall never be able rightly to perform 
 without assistance from above: for so 
 timid is my natural disposition, that I blush 
 and tremble when called to speak before a 
 fellow-mortal of that Jesus who suffered so 
 much for me. Gracious God! deliver me 
 froth this cbWardice. 
 
 26. I endeavoured to set apart this day 
 for a serious examination into the state of 
 my soul as a Christian. Bnt I know not 
 how it comes to pass, I cannot command 
 my attention to this important subject for 
 ten minutes together ; the task seems irk- 
 some, and a kind of gloom has overspread 
 me as it were during the whole day. It 
 did not use to be so. Time was, when I 
 knew what it was to enjoy much of the 
 
260 Arrives in Funchal-Road. 
 
 presence of God in these holy exercises. 
 But now, alas ! I am too much a stranger 
 to such heavenly joys, and, I fear, too 
 contented under the loss of them. Lord 
 Jesus ! make me more earnest in the pur- 
 suit of that glorious crown which thou hast 
 purchased at so dear a rate for all thy fol- 
 lowers. Preserved by thy grace in thy 
 fear and love to this moment, I believe 
 that I am thine. Blessed Saviour ! bring 
 me nearer to thyself by the operation of thy 
 Spirit, that I may not be \tii to doubt of 
 my. interest in thee. 
 
 April 6. Arrived safe iu FunchaUroad, 
 in the island of Madeira. To all appear- 
 ance, the equinoctial gales set in two or 
 three hours after. What a pity it is that 
 hardly a soul takes any notice of God's 
 providential care ! 
 
 21. The admiral having given orders 
 to the fleet to prepare for sailing, I this 
 morning took leave of the shore and the 
 town of Funchal: happy in recollecting 
 that I was born a Briton, and not a Portu- 
 guese; a Protestant, and not a Roman- 
 cij^hoiic ; a freeman, and not a slave. What 
 
Sketch of Madeira, 
 
 261 
 
 filth, ignorance, and superstition, have I 
 been witness to for some days past ! What 
 a pleasing, fertile spot might this island be 
 made, if there were not such swarms of 
 ecclesiastical locusts, priests, friars, and 
 nuns, who eat up the fat of the land, and 
 do nothing towards cultivating it.—There 
 are at least sixty thousand inhabitants in 
 Madeira ; but the greatest part live in what 
 an Englishman would call a state of poverty. 
 The clergy, noblesse, and principal mer- 
 chants, fare sumptuously; wh?!* the rest 
 starve, and are slaves. If it were possible 
 to make the stump of an old rotten tree 
 walk, you could hrrdly distinguish it from 
 a Portuguese peasant. The bloom of health 
 I have not seen on any face, male or female, 
 in all the island. The better sort who are 
 screened from the sun, look as if they were 
 just recovered from a fit of sickness ; and 
 the lower class seem burnt and shrivelled 
 to a cinder. — Surely old England is the 
 best of climates still, and its inhabitants the 
 happiest of people, if they did but know it. 
 May 1. The admiral made the signal 
 to speak with our captain. When he re- 
 
262 
 
 Going to attack Goree. 
 
 turned the budget was opened. Before wc 
 proceed to India, we are going to attack 
 Goree. The Eagle is to cover the bombs. 
 The troops are ordered to hold themselves 
 in readiness to disembark ; among whom 
 are sixty marines from this ship : and every 
 other necessary preparation is making for 
 a vigorous descent. What tlie issue will 
 be, God only knows. I desire to look only 
 to him for help and prot^tion, while law- 
 fully engiOged in that to which his provi- 
 dence bath called me. I am persuaded no 
 evil shall befal me without his permission. 
 1 desire to go to battle in his nanie r and in 
 his name I hope to conquer. 
 
 % The warlike preparations going on 
 through the fleet have led me into a serious 
 train of thinking, too complicated and con- 
 fused to commit to writing with the accu- 
 racy 1 could wish. When Deatli stands 
 before me with all his terrors, the import- 
 ance of a final change strikes me with such 
 awe, that I cannot forbear sighing this 
 mental prayer : Lord, give me the full as- 
 surance of faith, ere it takes place ! But 
 when 1 reflect how many great ijumI y^oftdexr 
 
Made Cape de Verd, 
 
 263 
 
 fill things God hath graciously done fw 
 me, and that it was by his appointment 
 I came thus far, I cry out, Lord, do as 
 seemeth good in thy sight! This happy 
 frame has lasted but a little while, when I 
 begin to think of my wife and children ; I 
 am well assured the Lord will take care of 
 them, if I should fall in battle. But they 
 are so dear to me, it is worse than ten 
 thousand deaths to be torn from them. 
 While this racks my mind, and faith is 
 struggling, I find a kind of settled peace in 
 casting myself, unreservedly, as a poor 
 sinner, into the arms of a compassionate 
 Saviour. Under his wings I desire boldly 
 to face the enemy r and if he has ordained 
 my fall, I hope, though deserving of helj, 
 yet through rich grace to be with him in 
 glory. This is all my trust ! surely I can- 
 not be disappointed. 
 
 8. This morning we made Cape de 
 Verd, and found we were only two hours' 
 sail from Goree. This threw us into a 
 little confusion, having many things to get 
 ready before we could engage. But every 
 body being active and eager to begin, the 
 
264 Preparing for the Attack, 
 
 ship was soon cleared, last wills and testa- 
 ments wei'e signed, and the instruments of 
 death all prepared for immediate use. At 
 this scene nature seemed to shudder. My 
 mind was somewhat agitated at the pro- 
 spect of what was likely to ensue ; and I 
 longed to begin the action, that it might be 
 the sooner over. I had no place to retire 
 to in the ship, for every cabin was knocked 
 down ; but my heart kept up a constant 
 intercourse with Heaven, and begged 
 earnestly for protection and victory from 
 thence. At two in the afternoon, we an- 
 chored before the batteries, and to our 
 great surprise found the island evacuated 
 by the French, who had left it in the pos- 
 session of the black inhabitants ; the prin- 
 cipal of whom came off to the admiral to 
 acknowledge their subjection to the king 
 of England. It seems the French had been 
 apprised of our design, aind knowing the 
 place not to be tenable against a large 
 force, had wisely determined to abandon 
 it. Ever since the month of February 
 they have been transporting the guns, 
 stores, and provisions, to Senegal, which 
 
Description of Goree. 265 
 
 they then took from u« ; and only two small 
 pieces were left on the citadel ; so that a 
 sloop of war might have taken the place 
 which we this morning thought so formida- 
 ble.— Glory to God, that matters have turned 
 out so very favourably for us ! Little did 
 we think that this would be the case. But 
 he in whom I ever desire to trust, has always 
 been better to me than all my fears : and 
 from this renewed instance of his goodness, 
 I would draw a fresh argument for grati- 
 tude and praise, and for banishing all fu- 
 ture doubts of bis protecting care. 
 
 11. Yesterday I went ashore, and took 
 a walk round the once formidable island 
 of Goree — a barren spot, about two miles 
 in circumference, inhabited by about a 
 thousand blacks and mulattos — yery 
 healthy, considering the latitude it lies in ; 
 and of great importance to any nation 
 trading on the coast, on account of its 
 situation and the commodious roadstead 
 near it. The negro town, with respect to 
 decency and cleanliness, is far superior to 
 Fnnchal in Madeira ; and the inhabitants, 
 though alfliost nuked, much more civilized. 
 
266 Sailed from the Cape of Good Hope. 
 
 I stopped, with another gentleman, in one 
 of their houses for near an hour : there 
 were three black women who conversed 
 with us in French all the time, and dis- 
 covered as much good sense and go(yi 
 breeding as is to be met with in the first 
 houses among the gentry in England.— 
 What a pity that this vast continent knows 
 hardly any thing at all of the gospel ! 
 
 12. Sailed with a fair wind for the 
 Cape of Qood Hope. 
 
 23. W hen 1 think on the great distance 
 I am now. removed from my native country ; 
 the long time I am likely to be separated 
 from a bploved wife and the tender pledges 
 of our affection, from the people of God 
 and the ordinances of his house ; and the 
 great uncertainty of my ever beholding 
 them more ; 1 am hardly able to bear up 
 under the melancholy reflection: though 
 I entertain a secret hope, as well as fervent 
 wish, that the Lord will restore me to the 
 company of those who are so dear to me. 
 But if he has otherwise determined, may I 
 have grace to submit to his blessed will, — I 
 remember, some months ago, when I clearly 
 
Incidents on the Voyage. 267 
 
 saw the gracious manifestations of his pro- 
 vidence in my behalf, and enjoyed some- 
 thing of his comforting presence in my 
 soul, I mentioned, in a company of Chris- 
 tians at Bristol, that I found myself resigned 
 to leave father, mother, wife, and children, 
 and ready to travel to the furthermost parts 
 .of the earth, if God should call me thither. 
 I am indeed punished for my presumption. 
 Little did I think the Lord would so soon 
 take me at my word. It is a severe trial : 
 yet, blessed be God, I receive strength suf- 
 ficient to go through it. The Lord ever 
 keep me humble. 
 
 26. This morning we caught a kind of 
 «ea-monster, called a devil-fish, of such an 
 enormous size that it required the main- 
 yard tackle to get him in. But, ugly as 
 he was, the ship^s company made a good 
 meal on him. Any thing that is fresh will 
 be welcome to a sailor on a long voyage. 
 
 29. On the 27th, in the evening, I was 
 taken very ill, and continued so all that 
 night and the next day, with every pro- 
 spect of having a severe fit of sickness : but 
 it pleased the Lord to rebuke the disorder^ 
 
 n2 
 
268 
 
 Regret on Aceouni 
 
 and this morning I enjoy my wonted state 
 of health. 1 desire to mark it down as 
 a special instance of his goodness; just 
 shewing me how liable I was to be carried 
 off by the distempers of this infected cHf 
 mate, but that they were not permitted to 
 injure me. O that my whole life were de- 
 voted to his praise. Never can 1 be suf- 
 ftciently Aankftil for what he hath done for 
 
 me. 
 
 June 2. In the course of my Christian 
 experience, I have frequently remarked, 
 that after having made sincere resolutions 
 against such and such evils with the great- 
 est care ; I have, notwithstanding, the 
 same day been insensibly drawn aside from 
 the path of duty, led on by degrees into the 
 snare of the enemy, and at last involved in 
 deeper guilt than before. I have just had 
 a striking example of this, which 1 wish to 
 retain as a profitable memento for my fu- 
 ture conduct.— Yesterday morning I was 
 resolving, through divine assistance, to 
 watch against all unruly passion, anger, 
 and hasty words, when in conversation with 
 my messmates ; and to learn to be meek, 
 
of sudden Anger, 
 
 289 
 
 lowly, and forbearing, with every body. I 
 had not to complain of any glaring violation 
 of this resolution through the day. But 
 after I went to bed, the captain, having 
 spent the evening in the wardroom with 
 two or three more, became intoxicated, 
 and about eleven o'clock fell into a dispute 
 with the lieutenant of marines. Their 
 noise kept me awake. I was grieved to 
 find my brother-officer, a harmless inoffen- 
 sive lad, very ill used. However, I still 
 lay quiet. But the captain, at last, with- 
 out the smallest provocation, giving him 
 several blows, I could bear it no longer : 
 my blood boiled, I rose hastily, and was ia 
 a violent passion indeed. The Lord for- 
 give me. What a poor frail creature I am, 
 with all my resolutions. I sometimes 
 think I ought never to make any : and yet, 
 as a means, with a firm reliance on divine 
 grace alone, they may prove beneficial in 
 promoting watchfulness. Lord! make me 
 more watchful every day, that I may not 
 thus fall into temptation. 
 
 6. This is Sunday. O how barren and 
 unprofitable are these solemn days to me 
 now ! No house of God to sro to ! No 
 
270 
 
 Flying'Jish seen in the 
 
 listening to the sweet sound of the gospel ! 
 No mingling in the hymn of praise with 
 God*s people ! Not a single person with 
 whom I can spend an hour in serious con- 
 versation ! and, what is worst of all, a 
 ban*enness of soul, that makes solitude a 
 burden: To fly from it is to go among 
 blasphemers. The Lord give me a keener 
 relish for his blessed word, and more com- 
 munion with himself. 
 
 10. To-day we had a fine fresh gale of 
 the south-east trade wind ; which seems 
 peculiarly fatal to those persecuted crea- 
 tures, the flying-fish. I have frequently 
 observed, when it rains or the sea is a little 
 ruflSed, they are pursued with uncommon 
 voracity by the bonettas, albicores, and 
 dolphins. They sometimes rise in shoals, 
 like a flock of linnets out of a bush, and 
 fly twenty or thirty yards, and sometimes 
 further, to avoid the devouring jaws of 
 their pursuers, who frequently give a spring 
 out of the water, and catch the trembling 
 victims in the air if they do not fly high 
 enough. We lately examined one that flew 
 over the hammocks on the weather gang- 
 way. It was abouteight inches long; in shape 
 
Passage to Trinidad. ^l 
 
 something like a small whiting, but rather 
 more taper, with scales like a herring, and 
 of the same colour ; having two wings 
 formed like those of a fly, very thin and 
 transparent, with which it skims swiftly 
 in the air, directing its course always be- 
 fore the wind 1 have seen this devoted 
 fish closely attacked by enemies in both 
 elements : a cruel bonetta eagerly spring- 
 ing after it in the water, and a hungry gull 
 hovering in the air, ready to seize it the 
 instant it should take to its wings : and 
 seldom or never is it so happy as to escape 
 
 both. 
 
 22. This morning we saw the islands 
 of Trinidada and Martin-vaz, and in the 
 afternoon ran through with the fleet be- 
 tween them. They are about nine leagues 
 apart. Trinidada is about five miles long, 
 very rugged and rocky, and uninhabited. 
 Martin-vaz is nothing but a rock, to all 
 appearance inaccessible, about a mile in 
 circumference, with three or four smaller 
 rocks at a little distance from it. Barren 
 as these islands are, hardly sufficient to 
 maintain wild goats and sea-gulls, they, 
 
272 
 
 Meditation*. 
 
 fievertheless, afforded a pleasing sight to 
 us who have been so long poring upon 
 fiothing but salt water, 
 
 27. Having nothing material around 
 me to notice,! could wish, on this still even- 
 ing, to take a peep within and see what 
 has been passing there. What has been 
 the daily and principal bent of my thoughts 
 lately ? I humbly trust, an earnest desire 
 to live to the glory of God. But, alas ! 
 not a day has passed over my head, but I 
 have experienced keen remorse for having 
 done what I ought not to have done, and 
 for having left undone what it was my duty 
 to perform. The more I reflect upon my 
 conduct as a Christian, the greater reason 
 I see for crying out, God be merciful to 
 me a sinner.— -I have no doubt of the au- 
 thenticity of the sacred records ; and I am 
 hourly more and more convinced of the 
 absolute necessity of such a Saviour as is 
 offered in the gospel : yet 1 camiot get my 
 heart to love the dear Redeemer as 1 ought, 
 or as I think his real followers do. This 
 brings a heavy cloud over my mind. At 
 the same time, I see such numberless in- 
 
Meditatwns, 
 
 ^3 
 
 
 stances of his distingtiishing favour, that I 
 dare not disbelieve or doubt of his love to- 
 wards tne. Yet I in no respect act up to the 
 character of which I humbly hope, through 
 grace, I am possessed ; and I am far from 
 enjoying that solid, settled peace which I 
 know is the happy privilege of every child 
 of God. Blessed Jesus ! remove every 
 stumbling-block out of the way. 
 
 July 23. I desire to bless God, that 
 during the last three weeks I have enjoyed 
 a more fixed peace of mind than t remem« 
 her to have experienced for many years 
 past. The truths of the gospel have «hone 
 with fresh lustre, and 1 have tasted some 
 sweet moments of communion with hint 
 that made me : and where this has been 
 interrupted, sin, that bitter evil, has been 
 the occasion. Blessed Jesus ! give me 
 strength to watch against it, and grace to 
 love thee more. 
 
 July 31. Yesterday we had some hope 
 that we should weather the Cape of Good 
 Hope before night : to-4lay we have none 
 at all. This morning we found the main 
 top^mast sprung. 
 
 n5 
 
SS74 Anchored in Simon's Bay. 
 
 August 1. This morning, as an ad- 
 dition to what we call misfortunes, we 
 found the fore-topmast sprung, and are now 
 by no means in a condition to carry sail. — 
 We have fine settled weather at present ; 
 but we dread being driven out to sea by 
 some severe storm at this season of the 
 year ; it being now the depth of winter in 
 this part of the globe. 
 
 3. By the blessing of God, we this even- 
 ing came to an anchor at the entrance of 
 Simon's bay ; overjoyed at having escaped 
 all the dangers we were in dread of while 
 hovering near th^ Cape. 
 
 14. To-day the Lord, in a remarkable 
 manner, heard my prayer, and gave me a 
 complete victory over one of my brother 
 officers, who has long been my enemy, and 
 who, in attempting to asperse my character, 
 exposed his own to universal censure; and 
 was this morning obliged to make a public 
 apology for his behaviour. 1 hope the 
 Lord gave me grace to forgive him from 
 the bottom of my heart, and to receive hira 
 for the future with every mark of brotherly 
 afl'ertion. () my God! make me truly 
 thankful for this favour. 
 
Account of the Place, 
 
 275 
 
 22. Since our arrival here we have had 
 several very severe gales of wind ; par- 
 ticularly last night, when some ships drove, 
 and others let go their sheet anchors, even 
 in this commodious harbour. What a 
 loud call for thankfulness to God, who has 
 brought us through such a vast tract of 
 sea, and not suffered any storm like this 
 to come near us 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 this place. It is nothing 
 but a mass of sand, surrounded with very 
 high mountains ; with about half a dozen 
 houses a little way from the beach, and a 
 long row of buildings containing all kinds 
 of stores ; which the Dutch have erected 
 for the use of the shipping which resort 
 here in the winter months, Simon's bay 
 being a much better harbour than that on 
 the other side of the cape. The reason the 
 Dutch do not settle here in preference, 
 seems very obvious ; the soil is not worth 
 cultivating, when compared with the vast 
 tracts of rich ground on this delightful 
 
276 
 
 In Table-Bay. 
 
 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 
 excursions ashore have been generally along 
 the beach ; where I amuse myself in pick- 
 ing up the various kinds of shells thrown 
 there by the tide, and indulge the pleasing 
 idea of one day presenting these trifles to 
 my little ones. Sometimes I ascend the 
 high mountains, and endeavour to collect 
 all my thoughts in contemplating the 
 Being who formed them. But the objects 
 around me are so striking, the shrubbery 
 so captivating, and my mind so prone to 
 wander, that, ere I am aware, I lose sight 
 of the glorious Author, and grovel in con- 
 templating the creatures, without consider- 
 ing from whose hand they came. O what 
 a rich treasure is a heavenly mind ! 
 
 Table-bay, September 15. It has blown 
 hard for some days in this open roadstead, 
 and we have parted a cable twice ; but, 
 contrary to what every body would imagine, 
 it was not when it blew hardest, during a 
 dark moonless night, but when it was 
 
 
Account of the Cape of Good Hope . 27t 
 
 moderate, and on two different mornings, 
 soon after sun-rise, when we had light and 
 time to grapple for the cable, and to splice 
 it, without letting go another anchor : and 
 no sooner was this disagreeable job over 
 than it began to blow again, as if the wind 
 had been withheld till the Eagle was once 
 more moored in safety. We are seldom 
 left a day without some mark of the Lord's 
 care over us; if we had but spiritual eyes to 
 discern his mercies, and gratitude to ac- 
 knowledge them. 
 
 21. Went ashore to stay a few days, 
 and to inform myself relative to this corner 
 of the world. 
 
 27. The part of Africa possessed by the 
 Dutch, commonly called the Cape of Good 
 Hope, and containing a space much larger 
 than Great Britain, is, in my opinion, one 
 of the most desirable countries in the uni- 
 verse. The climate is temperate and 
 healthy, and the soil amazingly fertile, with 
 every thing its inhabitants wish to have, 
 com, wine, and cattle, with all manner of 
 fruit, in the greatest abundance and per- 
 fection . As they cannot consume the tenth 
 
278 Description of the Country 
 
 of what they raise, they receive with a 
 hearty welcome ships of all nations to and 
 from India; taking care to make them pay 
 double for every thing they sell : and yet, 
 notwithstanding, provisions are very rea- 
 sonable, mutton at three halfpence or two 
 pence a pound ; beef and veal in proportion. 
 The sea also contributes towards the plenty. 
 At one haul of the scan we caught a hun- 
 dred and fifty-one large fish, weighing near 
 three thousand pounds, which served the 
 ship's company two days. The mullet are 
 very fine, and the craw-fish without num- 
 ber, some as big as our biggest lobsters for 
 a penny. They have a winter here which 
 some, who know no better, think a severe 
 one, but which a northern European would , 
 accept of as a very good summer. They 
 hardly know what frost is ; and snow they 
 only see at a distance on the tops of the 
 highest mountains. Cabbages, cauliflowers, 
 pease, asparagus, and other vegetables 
 which we raise with the greatest labour in 
 summer, they have in the greatest plenty 
 all the year .round. Lemons, oranges, 
 pears, nectarines, peuches, all grow in the 
 
about Cape-Town. 
 
 279 
 
 same orchard ; not against sunny walls, 
 where we nurse them, but most of them on 
 large standards, requiring no more attend- 
 ance than a common apple orchard in Eng- 
 land. The small of the orange flower, and 
 their hedges, which are mostly of myrtle, 
 perfume the air so delightfully, that a 
 morning or evening walk in them is one of 
 the finest treats in the world. The wine, 
 which they make in great quantities, is in 
 general excellent, particularly that of Con- 
 stantia, about twelve miles from Cape 
 Town, where I went purposely to see the 
 vineyards and taste the wine in its purity ; 
 and I must own I never tasted any thing so 
 delicious. In all this tract of country there 
 is only the town at the Cape of any note, 
 and that is allowed to be a very handsome 
 one ; the streets large and straight, but not 
 paved, and the houses neat and clean and 
 as elegant as Dutch taste can make them. 
 The town stands at the foot of the moun- 
 tain called Table-Land, which is the most 
 striking object about the place, being of an 
 amazing height, and, unlike other hilla, 
 perfectly flat at top, having the appearance 
 
280 
 
 Table Mountain, 
 
 of a table about two miles long and half a 
 mile broad : M'hen a cloud covers it, they 
 call it laying the cloth ; and look for no- 
 thing but dirty weather till the table is un- 
 covered again. There are two other hills, 
 one at each end of it. That called the Sugar- 
 loaf is the reverse of Table- Land, being so 
 pointed and steep at top that you must use 
 ladders to get up : a flag is hoisted there 
 when ships are seen in the ofting. Among 
 the inhabitants are a great number of slaves 
 of all complexions : the white people are, 
 as they generally are where slavery is ad- 
 mitted, of an indolent disposition, and do 
 nothing but eat, drink, and sleep. Their 
 religion is Dutch Calvinism ; but I fear 
 they are, in general, strangers to true, vital 
 Christianity. 1 may, however, be mistaken ; 
 God only knows the heart. Their be- 
 haviour at church seemed decent and se- 
 rious. The minister preached above an 
 hour, extempore, with great warmth and 
 fluency : how far his doctrine was sound, 
 i cannot tell ; the only word 1 understood 
 was the name of the blessed Saviour, Jesus 
 Christ, which he often repeated. They are 
 
Chamcter of the Inhabitants. 281 
 
 coming into church an hour before the ser- 
 vice begins ; and the women, who compose 
 more than two-thirds of the congregation, 
 are attended, each by two slayes ; one, car- 
 rying an umbrella, sees them to the door, 
 and the other enters behind them, carrying 
 a fine gilt Bible, wrapped in a napkin. In 
 charity we ought to suppose they have an- 
 other for common use at home ; for of 
 many hundi-eds I t»w at church, they all 
 looked as if they had never been used be- 
 fore. But what makes me think they have 
 little true religion, is their abuse of the 
 Sunday : the instant they leave the church 
 they play, sing, dance, and game, and have 
 no idea of keeping the Sabbath holy. Yet 
 there may be many among them who mourn 
 in secret for the sins of the multitude ; and 
 them God will bless. 
 
 October 21. This morning at dawn of 
 day, I set off with some of my messmates 
 for the top of Table-Land, where we arrived 
 in about two hours and a half, with no little 
 difficulty ; having been oblig-ed in many 
 places to make use of both hands and feet, 
 the ascent was so steep. But when we ar- 
 rived at the extended plain on the top, the 
 
282 View from Table Mountain. 
 
 view from thence fully compensated us for 
 all our trouble. I never in my life saw any 
 thing so npble and awful. We were ele- 
 vated, not only above our fellow-mortals, 
 but likewise above the clouds, which rolled 
 in massy volumes far beneath us. 
 
 29. I endeavoured to set apart this day 
 for a serious examination into my state as 
 a professing Christian, and to solicit a 
 throne of grace for protection in India. 
 And though I enjoyed not that delightful 
 intercourse with Heaven, with which I 
 have sometimes been blessed, yet I think I 
 experienced such a settled confidence in 
 devoting myself wholly to God, that I 
 now seem as intrenched in a fortress where 
 no enemy can harm me. Methinks 1 could 
 likewise say to-day with St. Peter, Lord, 
 thou knowest all things ; thou knowest 
 that 1 love thee. O make me more zealous 
 for thee, and let not my corrupt heart ever 
 think of making a truce with the wicked- 
 ness that surrounds me on every side. 
 Alas ! Lord, I have been too backward 
 in standing up for thee ; or the men of 
 the worM would hate me iv re than they do. 
 
 Novemb«i-v 1. Earlv in the momin&r. a 
 
A French Schooner chased. 
 
 283 
 
 schooner under French colours, from the 
 Mauritius, was chased and fired at by the 
 Nymph sloop ; but, before the Nymph 
 could get near her, escaped under the pro- 
 tection of the Dutch fort, to the great dis- 
 grace of Ihe English flag ; the shore being 
 lin«d with people looking at the chase ; 
 and six English men-of-war doing nothing, 
 either of which might have hindered her 
 from escaping. But bad as this was, 
 something much woi'se followed. About 
 noon, a French snow made her appearance, 
 and the Nymph chased her till she was 
 within gun-shot, coming up fast, and the 
 afternoon before her. But just as we ex- 
 pected to see the Frenchman taken, the ad- 
 miral recalled the Nymph. The Nymph 
 made signal to the Admiral, that she could 
 take the chase ; and continued to pursue 
 her. But the admiral, repeating his sig- 
 nal, obliged the Nymph to return, and let 
 tl<e Frenchman escape. — Such conduct in 
 anEnglish sea officer, I believe, was never 
 before heard of. He has now let four 
 French vessels escape, which an active of- 
 ficer would have taken, and thereby greatly 
 
284 
 
 Sails from the Cape 
 
 distressed our enemies at the Mauritius; 
 each of those vessels having large sums of 
 money on board, to purchase provisions for 
 the garrison on that island. 
 
 4. The signal was made for getting 
 under way, and the whole fleet got safe out 
 to sea before dark. May the blessing of 
 the Lord go with us. 
 
 December 16. O for a heart over- 
 whelmed in gratitude to the Lord, my 
 Maker and Redeemer, who hath once more 
 delivered me from the jaws of death. It 
 has been his gracious will to afflict me with 
 a severe fit of sickness. 1 was forced to 
 take to my bed, and trembled at the dread- 
 ful strides I thought the king of terrors was 
 making towards me. But the Lord heard 
 my cry, supported me from his blessed 
 word, which I was now and then able to 
 peep into, and 1 am now a great deal bet- 
 ter. 1 trust he hath blessed the means 
 used for my recovery, and I hope this afflic- 
 tion will be so sanctified to me as to prove 
 a rich treasure for many months to come. 
 
 January J, 1780. Off the north-west 
 end of Sumatra. About the beginning of 
 
towards India. 
 
 285 
 
 last year I could not forbear viewing it as 
 a period which I should not pass through 
 witliout an unusual share of trouble and 
 distress. Experience has shewn I was not 
 far out in ray conjectures. But it is past ; 
 and thanks be to that kind hand which, 
 surmounting every difficulty, hath safely 
 brought me thus far. What may be in 
 store for me during the year I am now en- 
 tered upon, the same gracious Protector 
 only knows. Into thy hands, O blessed 
 JesiTS ! I desire this day solemnly to resign 
 myself, without the least reserve whatever. 
 Keep me in India, bring me home ; health 
 or sickness ; life or death ; still my heart 
 would say, Thy will be done. 
 
 Thus did this excellent man, as he sailed 
 from place to place in his voyage, and, as 
 will be further seen, through the whole of 
 his life, mark the appearances around him, 
 and sketch the charactei*s and practices of 
 the iuhabitiints of the different parts of the 
 w orld he visited ; yet, evidently so as not 
 to neglect tracing with equal fklelity, and 
 generally with greater minuteness, what 
 was passing within. He was, during the 
 
286 
 
 Concluding Remarks. 
 
 whole of his existence on earth, a sedulous 
 self-ohserver : and he was too frank and 
 honest to disguise either his feeUngs or his 
 opinions of himself, however unfavourable 
 they might be. In consequence of this 
 practice and the effect of earthly adhesions, 
 the moral picture is extremely diversified, 
 and sometimes deeply shaded : yet it is not 
 therefore the less instructive. None who 
 has contemplated the scenes of nature, ex- 
 pects to find the surface of the earth uni- 
 formly smooth, or the sun constantlyshining: 
 none who explores the fields of intellect 
 expects to find the man of wit always vi- 
 vacious and sparkling, or the man of genius 
 always soaring above the reach of ordinary 
 mortals : nor must a thoughtful observer 
 expect to find the man of piety alvva}s se- 
 rene and cheerful, or always free from the 
 influence u( secular concerns. This is to 
 all a state of mutiibility, and is thence the 
 better fitted for a state of discipline. Our 
 situations vary, our characters vary ; but 
 it is the privib ge of the Christian that 
 all the mutations in his character and his 
 circumstances, tend to the perfection and 
 
Concluding Remarks, 
 
 287 
 
 " freedom of the sons of God." " As all 
 natural bodies are mixed (says good Bishop 
 Hall), so must all our moral dispositions. 
 No simple passion doth well. If our joy 
 be not alloyed with sorrow it is madness : 
 and if our sorrow be not tempered with 
 some mixture of joy, it is hellish and de- 
 sperate. If, in earthly things, we hope 
 without all doubt, or fear without all hope, 
 we offend on both sides : if we labour with- 
 out all recreation, we grow dull and heart- 
 less ; if we sport ourselves without all la- 
 bour, we grow wild and unprofitable. I 
 care not how simple my heavenly affections 
 are, which the more free they are from 
 composition are the nearer to God ; nor 
 how compounded my earthly, which are 
 subject to extremities. If joy come alone 
 I will ask him for his fellow; and ever- 
 more, in spite of him, couple him with his 
 contrary : that so, while each are enemies 
 to other, both may be friends to me." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
■»■ .*' 
 
 ', '^ 
 
 Trinted by W. Clowes, Nortliuinb«rland-court, Strand.