l)[ I 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 ^ 
 
 University of California. 
 
 Mrs. SARAH P. WALS WORTH. 
 
 Received October, 1894. 
 t/lccessions No.Syi^CQ. '-■^'^^ ^^• 
 
 'd^^iit^t/x^^j^, ^/H&^rrif^i^ 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
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 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
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DOMESTIC PORTRAITURE 
 
 AND 
 
 1 TRACTS. 
 
 « 
 
 ^ Kbv. LEGH RICHMOND. 
 
Thott shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them 
 when thou sittest in thy house, and -when thou walkest by the way, and when 
 thou liest down, and when thou risest up.— Deut. vi. 8. 
 
 He blessed tne habitation of the just.— Prov. iii. 33. 
 
 This we ought to be constantly intent upon, as the business of our lives — 
 our daily work — to get our spirits so attempered and fitted to heaven, that if 
 we be asked what design we drive at, what we are doing, we may be able to 
 make a true answer. We are dressing ourselves far eternity.^ Howe. 
 
[T7FI7B11SIT7] 
 

 <:'^A^(/'/ty?/?/my/ 
 
DOMESTIC PORTRAITURE; 
 
 OR, THE SUCCESSFUL APPLICATION OF 
 RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLE IN THE EDUCATION OF A FAMILY: 
 
 EXEMPLIFIED IN THE MEMOIRS 
 OF THREE OF THE DECEASED CHILDRElf OF 
 
 THE KEY. LEGH RICHMOND. 
 
 p77i-/f:^7J 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTORY REMARKS, 
 
 BY THE REV. E. BICKERSTETH, 
 
 RECTOR OF WATTON, HERTS. 
 
 iFrom the Seljentft aontron SStrftion. 
 " oar XHi^* 
 
 '\IIIT»B.STT7! 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL SOCIETY FOR THE PROMOTION OP 
 
 EVANGELICAL KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 No. 11 Bible House, Astor Place. 
 
 1859. 
 

 S'yV-06 
 
INTRODUCTION, 
 
 The republication of the "Domestic Porteaiture" 
 has been considered a favourable opportunity for prefix- 
 ing a few remarks on Christian education, a most impor 
 tant part of every parent's duty, and the root of innumur- 
 able future blessings. In doing this, the writer hopes, in 
 some measure, to concentrate within a short compass, the 
 many truly valuable exhortations and pressing entreaties 
 to his children, by Ms revered and beloved friend, Mr. 
 Richmond, which this volume contains. 
 
 It is common to hear complaints, that the children of 
 pious parents disappoint the expectations which are 
 usually, and not unnaturally formed ; and it is true that 
 this is too often the case ; and that in some instances 
 children piously educated, will, when they break through 
 the restraints of education and habit, become excessively 
 wicked : and they may, even like Eli's and David's 
 children, perish in their wickedness. In these extreme 
 cases, there has probably been either some serious neg- 
 lect of parental duty, or the formation of unhappy con- 
 nexions with others : at least, every Christian parent 
 is dumb before God under such awful dispensations, and 
 is feelingly alive to the conviction of his own sinfulness. 
 
 But, after all, the mass of Christian piety in a country 
 
 will be found to be in the generation of the pious ; and 
 
 though God shows his own sovereignty in sometimes 
 
 raising up an eminent instrument of good from among 
 
 1* 
 
VI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the most wicked, lie also shows the riches and the faith 
 fulness of his own promises : The generation of the wp 
 right is blessed: Train up a child in the way he should go, 
 and when he is old he will not depart from it. 
 
 It may be used briefly to notice some causes of want 
 of success, and also to touch upon the means of a suc- 
 cessful Christian education. 
 
 In considering the causes of want of success, we must 
 first notice the disregard of one of the most important 
 religious principles, a due knowledge of which lies at 
 the root of all success in this work — that all children 
 are by nature born in sin, and the children of wrath ; 
 that .they inherit from their parents a carnal mind, 
 which is enmity against God. However pious the parent, 
 his nature is corrupt, and descends to his children. 
 From us they derive that nature, and all success in 
 education must be owing to God's blessing our efforts, 
 and giving them his grace, that they may gain dominion 
 over their natural and inbred corruption. The Christian 
 parent will ever be watchful to detect the workings of 
 this corruption, even in those things which may appear 
 to the eye of the world pleasing and delightful. That 
 alone which, is the fruit of the Spirit — that alone which 
 is superior to nature, will satisfy him. "Whilst he will 
 forward and cultivate whatever is lovely and of good 
 report, he will be, above all, anxious, that everything of 
 this kind should proceed from Christian principle, and 
 not from the mere love of human praise. 
 
 The indulgence of parents, proceeding from an idolatry 
 of their children, is one of the most common sources of 
 ill-success. This was the ruin of Eli's and of David's 
 children, and it is a cause which is constantly operating 
 in a vast variety of forms ; such as indulgence in appe- 
 tite, in dress, in pleasures, in yielding to any obviously 
 improper requests, and in seeking rather to gratify their 
 
I NT RODUCTION. VU 
 
 present wislies, ttian to secure their future, their spirit- 
 ual, and their highest good. 
 
 The inconsistencies of Christian parents in their con- 
 duct and conversation, have a most pernicious influence 
 over their children. The spirit of the world, the lust of 
 the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride ^jf life, manifested 
 by a parent, are eagerly and most naturally imbibed 
 by children. They are creatures of imitation in all 
 things; but they have a natural aptitude in imitating 
 whatever is wrong. The bad tempers, the haughtiness, 
 the self-will of the parents are very soon indeed copied 
 by the child. Their admiration of riches, or rank, or 
 talent, naturally engenders similar inordinate views and 
 feeling in their children. Thus our sins punish us in 
 our offspring. 
 
 Improper connexions which children are allowed to 
 form with others, whether of a similar, or of a superior 
 age, but especially of the latter, — often ruin the best 
 laid plans for education. Children are so soon capti- 
 vated by delusive and specious appearances of superior 
 wisdom, leading them to despise others, and by the vain 
 promises of liberty and pleasure ; that one evening spent 
 amidst the fascinations of worldly society, may unsettle 
 and permanently injure their young and inexperienced 
 minds. 
 
 Amid the common complaints of want of success in 
 the bringing up of children, complaints which are often 
 heard from Christian parents, — it is pleasant to contem- 
 plate those instances which sometimes occur, as in the 
 families of Mr. Kichmond, Mr. Scott, and others which 
 might be named, where results more gratifying have 
 been realized. 
 
 The inquiry is most interesting, and most important. 
 Thence arises this difference ? 
 
 A customary resource for consolation, and almost for 
 
VIU INTEODUCTIOK. 
 
 justification, in cases of an unhappy description^ is the 
 doctrine of the sovereignty of God. 
 
 Often, however, this great and awful doctrine is 
 brought in as a cover to parental neglect, when it would 
 be just as reasonable to assign it as an excuse for expo- 
 sing your child to a pestilence, or for leaving him, in 
 sickness, without medical aid. 
 
 The cases above alluded to, and others quite nume- 
 rous enough to form a rule, and not an exception, show 
 that when certain means are used, the answering results 
 may be expected to follow ; and that the failure of the 
 parent's hopes, may generally be traced to their own 
 deficiency in conduct. 
 
 In speaking however of means, — a word perhaps in- 
 adequate, — it is desirable to use that word in its utmost 
 extent : to look upon it not merely as comprehending a 
 certain routine of duties, but as embracing the whole 
 obligation of the parent to the child. 
 
 And the first and main obligation is Love, It is to 
 be feared that the real root of the mischief of which we 
 are speaking, little as it may be suspected, lies in a 
 deficiency here. 
 
 Parents ascribe the loss of their children to God's not 
 having willed otherwise ; when, perhaps, it would be 
 much nearer the truth to say, that they themselves have 
 not willed otherwise. 
 
 They are wanting in a deep sense of the real worth 
 and danger of their children's souls. They wish and 
 hope that they may be serious, good and religious ; but 
 it is a sort of faint, ineffectual wish ; not that ardent de- 
 sire, that unceasing anxiety which filled Mr. Eichmond's 
 mind ; not that love which made St. Paul exclaim, "My 
 little children, of whom I travail in birth again, till 
 Christ be formed in you." 
 
 Prom these feeble hopes and languid wishes, flow 
 cold and formal prayers, offered as a duty, — not as the 
 
I N T K O D U C T I O N. Hi 
 
 inmost desire of tlae soul. There is no wrestling for the 
 -children, with the " I will not let thee go except thou 
 bless me," of Augustine's mother. Kor are these the 
 prayers of faith ; nor can they be expected to bring 
 down blessings : since the promise is, " Whatsoever ye 
 shall ask, believing, ye shall receive." They are often 
 offered up from a mere sense of duty, without any ex- 
 pectation, and almost without any sincere desire, that 
 they should be answered. With such weak and faint 
 impressions of heavenly concerns, we may expect to find 
 a fast hold kept upon the world. Just in proportion as 
 the one is undervalued, the other is sure to be over- 
 estimated. The interests of the present life are eagerly 
 sought after, the affairs of eternity postponed : hence all 
 manner of temptations creep in. 
 
 A Christian parent had once, led by prospects of 
 worldly advancement, placed his son beyond the reach 
 of the public means of grace, and in the midst of mani- 
 fold temptations. The son was shortly after on a visit 
 to his father; and the parent prayed, in his family 
 worship, that the boy might be preserved, amidst the 
 various perils of his situation. The youth reflected, 
 What 1 does my father put me into the devil's mouth ; 
 and then pray to God that the devil may not be allowed 
 to swallow me up ? Surely to have occasioned such a 
 reflection from a child, must have been very painful to 
 the parent ? 
 
 The result of this line of conduct, half-christian, half- 
 worldly, is to bring up a race of young persons ac- 
 quainted with the truths of religion, but without any 
 effectual feeling of its power. They are thus in a worse 
 situation than even the more ignorant : since the sound 
 of the gospel can hardly reach the latter without some 
 awakening of the conscience: whereas on the former 
 everything that can be said falls as a mere repetition of 
 
3C IISrTEODUCTION. 
 
 what had been fully known for years, but never deeply 
 or effectually felt. 
 
 The spirit of Mr. Eichmond, then, — ^Jiis fervent love 
 for his children's souls, his never-ceasing anxiety, his 
 constant watchfulness, his daily and hourly prayers, not 
 of form but of faith — furnish unitedly a model, to which 
 the attention of Christian parents may be most advan- 
 tageously directed. 
 
 Besting in the form of godliness without its life and 
 power, is one of the great dangers to which the church 
 is peculiarly exposed in this day of general profession ; 
 and parents had need be very watchful that they do not 
 unawares foster the most dangerous self-deception in 
 their children, by giving them credit for genuine regene- 
 ration and conversion, where there has been nothing 
 more than excited natural feelings without any real 
 spiritual change. When the young possess nothing more 
 that what naturally amiable dispositions under religious 
 culture may easily produce, they are soon overset in the 
 rough sea of this world's trials and temptations. Let 
 parents beware of too soon speaking peace and rest to an 
 awakened mind, or a troubled conscience. 
 
 The nature of a successful Christian education is next 
 to be noticed. And we would not here dwell on subjects 
 which are generally acknowledged, such as prompt 
 obedience and the honouring of parents, but would 
 rather point out things which are too often neglected. 
 
 1. The first thing is rightly to know the true found- 
 ation OP OUR HOPES of success. This is nothing less 
 solid than the sure promises of God's word, many of 
 which are very precious to a Christian parent's heart ; 
 such as Deut. vii. 9. Psalm xxxvii. 25, 26 ; c, 5 ; cii. 
 28 ; ciii. 17, 18 ; cxii. 2. Prov. xi. 21 ; xx. 7 ; xxii. 6. 
 Isaiah xliv. 8 — 5; li. 8; Ixv. 23. Luke i. 50. Acts ii. 
 88, 39. To know rightly this foundation, and humbly 
 and simply to build upon it in the acting out of these 
 
INTKODUCTION. XI 
 
 promises, whicli were sealed to our daildren in Christian 
 baptism, through faith, and prayer, and consistent con- 
 duct, patiently waiting on God to fulfil them in his own 
 time, — constitute an important first step to successful 
 education. 
 
 2. We must join with this a clear view of the only 
 governing cause of success ; the fkee and kich geace 
 OF God our Father. All his children are born, not of 
 hlood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, 
 hut of God. Here is the origin, here is the maintaining 
 and continuing strength, here is the final triumph of 
 all our efforts ; and to cultivate a habit of constantly 
 looking to, and habitually depending upon God, in daily 
 prayer, in every instruction, and in every plan, formed 
 for our children, is a main principle for obtaining their 
 spiritual good. The faith and prayers of a parent are 
 specially prevalent with our gracious Eedeemer — 
 Mark ix. 23, 24. 
 
 3. Another material point is, to let our eye be 
 
 SINGLE IN SEEKING PRIMARILY THEIR SPIRITUAL 
 
 WELFARE : an all-directing and controlling principle in 
 education should be, to seeh first the Idngdom of God and 
 his righteousness, for our children. This should in- 
 fluence us, as to the place in which we fix them, the 
 company to which we introduce them, the books we 
 wish them to read, the situation we desire for them, and 
 in short, as to everything we do concerning them. 
 
 4. The diligent and right use of the means 
 OF GRACE, is a most important help for children — such 
 as daily reading the scriptures, prayer, habits of self- 
 examination, regular attendance on public worship, 
 and as they grow up; Confirmation and the Lord's 
 supper. But besides all these means, the most important, 
 perhaps, is that constant inculcation of divine truth, 
 to which we are so plainly directed in the scriptures: 
 These words which I command thee this day shall he in 
 
Xll INTEOD tJCTION. 
 
 thine heart; and thou shalt teach them diligently unto 
 thy children, and shalt talk of them luhen thou sittest 
 in thine house, and when thou walkest hy th^ way, 
 and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up: and 
 thou shalt hind them for a sign upon thine hand, and 
 they shall he as frontlets hetween thine eyes. And thou 
 shalt ivrite them upon the posts of thine house and on thy 
 gates. Particular instruction of the children by them- 
 selves, and a mother's private and individual conversa- 
 tion with them, are also of great moment. 
 
 5. Discipline is a matter of constant necessity. A 
 well-disciplined Christian child is the best gift which 
 a parent can bestow on his country; whilst children 
 left to themselves, and with no settled habits of patient 
 and steady application, are likely to be sources of much 
 trouble to their fellow-creatures. Discipline will seek 
 constantly to restrain, check and subdue all that is 
 wrong, or leading to wrong, and to animate and en- 
 courage all that is right. Every day brings fresh 
 occasion for its exercise, with regard to appetite, plea- 
 sures, temper, coveting the things of others, neglecting 
 duties, disorderly practices, and indeed all the varied 
 events of life. 
 
 6. Punishment must not be withheld, but must be 
 varied according to the degree of fault. It is important 
 also that the scale by which we measure the degrees of 
 wrong should be scriptural. Sins directly against God, 
 and moral faults, such as falsehood, passion, and taking 
 anything that does not belong to them, call for the 
 severest punishment, and should never be passed by 
 without chastisement : while accidents from carelessness, 
 though they may occasion us a serious injury, yet should 
 be visited with a lighter penalty, as not being intentional 
 faults. On the mode of punishment, the reader will find 
 valuable remarks in this volume. 
 
introduction. xiu 
 
 7. Foster and encourage, by wise and Christian 
 APPROBATION, everything that is lovely and excellent. 
 Much may be done in forming the character, by due 
 attention to this: all truth, openness, generosity, self- 
 denial, and love to others ; all diligence and application 
 in good pursuits should have the parental smile of favour ; 
 as all those things which are opposite to these should be 
 discouraged by marks of disapprobation. 
 . 8. Earnestly watch against seeking great things 
 FOR YOUR children. Oh! the inexpressible folly of 
 aiming to gain for them high connexions, in classes of 
 society above them ; and for this end placing them in 
 situations of danger, that they may form associations 
 with their superiors ! "What havoc has this made among 
 the children of pious parents! Mind not high things, 
 should be our plain rule. Seekest thou great things for 
 thyself? seek them not, God give us grace to attend to 
 these clear directions of his word. If we trust him, his 
 providence will call our children to those scenes in which 
 they may safely and honourably serve others, and glorify 
 his name ; and we shall be preserved from the anguish 
 of seeing them bring reproach on the gospel of Christ. 
 
 9. The last thing that I would notice is our OWN 
 consistency of conduct, as essential to the full effect 
 of a Christian education. If Christian parents act in- 
 consistently with their blessed principles, — if they are 
 irritable, selfish, proud, disorderly, passionate, and 
 covetous, what can be expected, but similarly evil tem- 
 pers in their children. But if tljey are poor in spirit, 
 meek, mourning for sin, and hungering and thirsting 
 after righteousness, and possess and manifest the other 
 graces of a Christian, it is an immense auxiliary to all 
 their religious instruction. In fact, it is one just retribu- 
 tion of all evil ways, that our children soon manifest 
 similar evil ways : while on the other hand, an exhibition 
 
 2 
 
XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of holy conduct enforces every pions exhortation, and 
 strengthens every solid principle, which we endeavour 
 to communicate to them. 
 
 The Editor subjoins a little sketch of principles of 
 education, by which he has desired and endeavoured 
 that his own conduct should be governed. 
 
POINTS TO BE KEPT IN YIEW, IN A 
 KELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 I. Spiritual Peosperity. 
 
 1. Pray for them. 
 
 2. Ever instil Christian principles. 
 
 8. Act in the spirit of the gospel towards them„ 
 
 4. "Watch over their intercourse with others. 
 
 5. Teach them to govern their tempers. 
 
 6. See that they diligently attend the means of grace. 
 
 II. Health of Body. 
 
 1. Their minds not to be too much pressed. 
 
 2. Exercise to be regularly taken. 
 
 8. "Watch against their ignorance and carelessness. 
 
 4. Temperance in diet to be observed. 
 
 5. Things injurious to health to be avoided. 
 
 6. Early in bed and early rising. 
 
 7. Kemember the incessant activity and subtilty of 
 Satan. 
 
 III. Mental Cultivation. 
 
 1. To be well grounded in what they learn. 
 
 2. Minds to be strengthened by solid works. 
 
 8. Habits of reflection to be formed and called forth. 
 
 4. See that they understand their lessons. 
 
 5. Habits of self-denial to be formed. 
 
 6. Things useful to be especially attended to. 
 
 lY. Manners. 
 
 1. Kindness to run through everything ; their morals, 
 school; play; walks, behaviour to each other, and 
 all around, parents, and servants. 
 
 XV 
 
XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 2. To show its true foundation in Christian principle. 
 Eom. xii. 10 ; 1 Peter iii. 8. 
 
 3. It is a victory over our natural selfishness. 
 
 4. It promotes the happiness of all around us. 
 
 V. Accomplishments. 
 
 1. Are of a secondary value. 
 
 2. A means of relaxation. 
 
 3. They commend religion to others. 
 
 4. Be sure that they are innocent. 
 
 5. Guard against those which will lead them into the 
 world. 
 
 YL The Saviour all in all. 
 
 1. In every point show them Christ. 
 He, the root of spiritual prosperity. 
 He, the Physician of body and soul ; 
 
 • He, the Giver of mental power ; 
 He, altogether lovely in all his ways ; 
 He, full of gifts and full of grace. 
 
 2. Let every thing turn the mind to him. 
 
 In every walk, in every lesson, in every event, in 
 every sin, in every mercy, speak of Christ, 
 
 3. Let him be the sun and the glory of every day. 
 
 VII. Means. 
 
 1. '' My grace is sufficient for thee." 
 
 2. " He will give his Holy Spirit to them that ask." 
 
 3. " 1 am thy God, I will strengthen thee, yea, I will up- 
 
 hold thee with the right hand of my righteousness." 
 
 Edward Bickersteth. 
 Watton Rectory, February 12, 1834. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Eemakks OK Education — Public moeals — Pub- 
 lic AND Pkivate Education 25 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Mr. Richmond's plan of education — Amuse- 
 ments FOR LEISURE HOURS — THE KALEIDESCOPE 
 
 — Lines on the Solar System - - - - 37 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The usual amusements of young people exclu- 
 ded — Keeping of .birth-days — letters on 
 
 (xvu) 
 
XVlll CONTENTS. 
 
 THESE OCCASIONS— Choice op companions — 
 Home cokkespondence — Discipline — Lettees 
 TO HIS children 53 
 
 CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 Eesidence at the Univeksity — Lettees to a 
 young man matriculating at Cambridge — 
 Subjects omitted in Me. Eichmond's plan of 
 education 109 
 
 CHAPTEE Y. 
 
 Life of Nugent Eichmond — Sponsorship — Let- 
 ter TO SPONSORS — EeMARKS ON THE MINISTRY — 
 
 Nugent sent to sea — Occurrences in Ls-dia 
 — Letters to . his parents — His expected 
 return — His death - 134 
 
 CHAPTEE Yl. 
 
 Life of Wilberforce Eichmond — His child- 
 hood — Letter to his father — Mr. Eich- 
 mond's letters to Wilberforforce in his 
 childhood — Wilberforce's early character 
 
 AND LETTERS — LiNES ON WiLRERFORCE'S BIRTH- 
 DAY — Mr. Eichmond's LETTERS TO iiiM - - -168 
 
CONTENTS. XIX 
 
 CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 Latter days of "Wilberforce — His illness — 
 YisiT TO Scotland — Eeturn — Conversations 
 WITH HIS father - 215 
 
 CHAPTEE YIII. 
 Closing hours of his life — Conversations 
 
 WITH his family — HiS DEATH — Mr. EiCH- 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 Mr. Eichmond's third daughter — His letters 
 to her — Marriage admonitions — Conversa- 
 tion WITH THE author — HeR SICKNESS AND 
 DEATH 285 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 Concluding Eemarks 311 
 
TO THE READER 
 
 If any apology be deemed needful in presenting to 
 tlie public another volume connected with Mr. Eich- 
 mond's name and memory, we might refer to the lively 
 interest with which the productions of his pen have ever 
 been received, and the frequent demand made for more 
 of his correspondence. It must be remembered that the 
 letters now published were not intended to be read by 
 any one beyond the circle of his own family, and they 
 are not introduced on the present occasion as specimens 
 of extraordinary talent and composition, but with a view 
 to exhibit the unwearied efforts of a Christian father in 
 the education of his children, and to encourage those 
 who are engaged in the same pursuit" to hope to the end ; 
 while they diligently persevere in the use of means ; 
 since they may here contemplate another proof that God 
 is faithful to his promise — " Train up a child in the way 
 he should go, and when he is old he will not depart 
 from it." 
 
 It has not been the design of the Editor to censure 
 others, who may adopt a mode of education somewhat 
 different ; or to claim for his friend or himself an exclu- 
 sive right to dictate to the church of God. Mr. K. had, 
 
 (xxi) 
 
XXn TO THE RE A DEE. 
 
 in some respects, Lis peculiarities; and men must judge 
 for themselves as to their imitation of them ; but there 
 can be no mistake in earnestly recommending to their 
 regard and love — his devout and heavenly spirit — 
 his consistent and firm preference of eternal to temporal 
 advantages, and the evident blessing of God which 
 crowned with success his method of instructing his 
 famiLy. May the same Divine Blessing accompany the 
 present humble attempt to promote the glory of God, 
 and the spiritual good of men. 
 
 NOTE BY THE AMERICAN EDITOR. 
 
 This volume may fall into the hands of two classes of 
 persons, to whom a word of exhortation may not be 
 out of place. 
 
 . 1. Those who may say as they read "This example is 
 indeed admirable, my heart concurs in every line, but alas 
 it is too high for me. Such results have been rare, and will 
 continue to be rare." But have such results been less com- 
 mon than such TRAINING ? So far from it, we believe 
 that in the mercy of God they have been much more 
 common. This unbelief, therefore, must touch the prac- 
 ticability of the the training, not the probability of the 
 RESULTS. Such training has not indeed been hitherto 
 common in Christian families ; but let none give place to 
 unbelief or discouragement on this ground. The time 
 approaches when such instances shall no longer be rare, 
 but common ; and the very narrative (which has passed 
 through so many editions) has doubtless induced many 
 blessed experiments, the full results of which will not 
 be known until the judgment day. 
 
TO THE READER. xxiii 
 
 2. Those who may say to themselves " Would lo God 
 I could have seen this book at an earlier day, for never 
 have 1 seen before so clearly both the practicability and 
 the way of training a family for Christ ; but now the 
 time is past — my children are grown, or they are 
 gone from me, or they are beyond my influence." But 
 even such should not say, "my hope is lost" — for 
 prayers and means may avail while life lasts ; and this 
 volume itself be sent where the parent's voice cannot go, 
 and be his testimony. 
 
DOMESTIC POETRATTURE. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 Quoniam rofert a quibus ct quo quisque modo sit institutus. 
 
 QUINTILLIAN.* 
 
 The importance of education lias ever been acknow- 
 ledged by all civilized commnnities. To the diffusion 
 of knowledge, and its influence on the economy of life, 
 may be traced the superiority of one age and country 
 over another ; and it is the neglect or the cultivation of 
 their minds, which forms the only true distinction 
 between man and his fellow. 
 
 The education of their youth was esteemed by some 
 nations to be so intimately connected with the public 
 weal; that they placed the children of the subject under 
 the superintendence of teachers chosen by the state ; a 
 practice which, no doubt, inspired a political patriotism, 
 but at the expense of many better feelings, and with the 
 risk of enfeebling, if not dissolving, those parental ties, 
 on which the conduct and happiness of life must greatly 
 depend. 
 
 There have been many writers on this subject, and 
 widely differing from each other in their respective 
 theories. The opinions of some are so extravagant, and 
 
 * "It is of great moment by Ayhom and in -wliat manner every one is 
 educated." 
 
 ? (25) 
 
26 RE^IAKKS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 SO opposed to all soTincl practical wisdom, as scarcely to 
 deserve an allusion. Who could have supposed that a 
 grave and intelligent author would recommend a parent 
 to leave his child without instruction until nearly the 
 age of manhood, under the pretence of not embarrassing 
 freedom of thought ? If such a strange conceit could be 
 acted upon, it would soon reduce an enlightened people 
 to the condition of barbarians. But the experiment is 
 impracticable, for " the process in the formation of char- 
 acter, though rude and ruinous by neglect, will go on." 
 From the cradle to the grave, a succession of hourly 
 evfents, and influences of a thousand kinds, will gradually 
 and ultimately establish habits, and give capacity for 
 happiness or misery, on an entrance into the eternal 
 world, according to their result. A bias of some kind 
 or other will be received, and the only alternative for our 
 choice is, whether that pre-disposition which arises from 
 the inculcation of good principles, and a reliance on 
 authority for a time, is not preferable to the impulse of 
 corrupt inclination, and the influence of more corrupt 
 communication. 
 
 There have been other writers who seem disposed to 
 consider man as the mere creature of circumstances, and 
 education as forming "the only ground of difference 
 between the judge on the bench and the prisoner at the 
 bar." These att;ach too great an importance to human 
 effort and the force of habit, when they compare a ra- 
 tional agent to the plant of the field, and expect that he 
 will of necessity take his form and shape from the hand 
 of the cultivator. If they do not deny in plain terms 
 the need of divine interposition, they make no appeal to 
 it, and seem to regard it as superfluous to the purposes 
 and ends of education. But whatever value we set on 
 moral culture, its failure, in many instances, — a failure 
 so great that corrupt nature seems as it were exasperated 
 
EEMARKS ON EDtJCATION". 27 
 
 to evil by the very means employed for its correction, 
 — affords a mournful proof, that "it is a ]poor centre of a 
 mavh actions, himself.^'' Another equally affecting fact 
 leads us to look higher than mere human agency : for 
 have not many useful and virtuous characters sometimes 
 appeared like lights in the midst of darkness ; emerging 
 from influences the least calculated to warrant such an 
 expectation ? It never must be concealed or forgotten by 
 a teacher, that '' God worketh both to will and to do of 
 his own good pleasure." He gives to the mind its first 
 impalse, and directs every step in its progress, wherever 
 the culture of man is successful. Independence is no 
 attribute of a creature ; and to challenge success as the 
 necessary result of our own efforts, is a presumption no 
 less opposed to reason than denounced by revelation. 
 " JSTot by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith 
 the Lord." 
 
 There is a third error which has its advocates. "While 
 some attribute too much to human culture, others expect 
 too little from it. There is a pride which inspires an 
 undue confidence in the use of means ; and there is an 
 indolent reliance on divine aid, which vainly looks for 
 an end without them, and disposes men to neglect or 
 wholly disregard them. This perversion of a truth gene- 
 rates a reckless feeling, and has done great mischief in 
 religious families. It is perhaps a chief cause of the 
 melancholy spectacle not unfrequently exhibited, in the 
 ruin of many children, whose parents have professed to 
 respect and value Christian principles. They ' seem to 
 overlook both the precept and the promise of the word 
 of God ' — " Train up a child in the way he should go, 
 and when he is old he will not depart from it." 
 
 But dismissing whatever is chimerical or mistaken in 
 these theories, (for it is not to my purpose to carry the 
 discussion to a greater length,) I would observe, that ta 
 
28 PUBLIC MORALS. 
 
 train and prepare the soul for its eternal destiny is the proper 
 business and end of education. It must be admitted, that 
 there are subordinate ends which may be desired, and 
 means of the same character which may be employed for 
 their attainment; that a competent provision; acquire- 
 ments which will render us respectable in life; and. all 
 that is connected with the security and promotion of 
 present happiness, are lawful objects of pursuit ; and 
 that it is folly to neglect or despise them. In many cases 
 it would be a dereliction of duty ; for we must not con- 
 sider ourselves as insulated beings, and " go out of the 
 world," but continue in it, as "the salt of the earth," to 
 dispense a purifying influence. I am not the advocate 
 of superstition or eccentricity; but I contend that the 
 chief end of education is to train for eternity. There 
 may be an awful consistency in the sentiments of those 
 whose hopes and prospects are bounded by time, when 
 they say. We and our children will eat and drink, for to- 
 morrow we die. But, independently of revelation, and 
 assuming only the belief of a future state, — a state to 
 be determined by our conduct in the present world, it 
 follows as a necessary consequence, that whatever we 
 teach or do, ought to have a bearing on another condition 
 of being, and be made subservient to its interests. Here 
 I stand on the vantage-ground, and fear not to make my 
 appeal to every thinking man; not only whether the 
 welfare of a future life can be reasonably set aside, and 
 children taught to despise and disregard it ; but whether 
 it be consistent with the expectation of another world, to 
 give it less than the chief and foremost place in our 
 thoughts and actions. It cannot be regarded as subordi- 
 nate or secondary, without exciting a just suspicion that 
 we do not admit its existence. Such an appeal may be 
 made with still greater force to an avowed disciple of the 
 Christian faith. The whole bearing of revelation goes 
 
i 
 
 PUBLIC MORALS. 29 
 
 to this point, '' Seek first tlie kingdom of God." Let it 
 be observed, that the question is not here one of mere 
 opinion. Eew would venture to deny the principle, for 
 this would be to deny the authority of the principle ; 
 but we must look to opinion as realized in practice, and 
 insist on the propriety and necessity of interweaving 
 religious principle as a golden thread in the whole texture 
 of education ; deriving from it the motives, the means, 
 and the end ; and so steadily keeping in view the final 
 result, as to make a cheerful sacrifice of every thing 
 which would be likely to impair or interfere with it. 
 
 I may be censured for rashly libelling the community 
 in which we live ; yet it must be apparent to an unpre- 
 judiced mind, that for the most part we are a nation of 
 Christians hy profession, and of heathens in opinion and 
 practice. Christianity may have improved the moral 
 sense, or at least driven into the shade the grosser abom- 
 inations of ancient times ; but it is a palpable fact, that 
 the Bible is not our standard ; nor a provision for the 
 world to come, our main object and end. Are not our 
 motives derived from reputation, interest, or gratifica- 
 tion ; and were not these the fulcrum employed by the 
 Gentile world to move the youthful mind to exertion ? 
 What are the virtues which are prized and commended ? 
 We hear of a becoming pride — a conscious dignity — a 
 noble ambition — a deserved scorn and contempt — a 
 just revenge; — dispositions and impulses of corrupt 
 nature which are totally condemned by the word of God. 
 In what light are many acknowledged vices regarded by 
 us ! The Christian and the heathen moralist equally 
 reprobate murder, impurity, and fraud; and legislators 
 of everj^ age hdve enacted laws to deter from their com- 
 mission; but do we not in a multitude of instances 
 endeavour to hide the enormity of these crimes, when 
 we cannot alter their character, and talk of a propei 
 
30 PUBLIC AND 3-EIVATE EDUCATION. 
 
 defence of honour, an affair of gallantry, and a fortunate 
 stroke of jDolicy ? 
 
 "All these things the Gentiles did," and we, though 
 professing to know God, by our imitation of their 
 actions, dishonour him. Even when a stricter rule of 
 morals is approved, the leading feature of heathen ages 
 is still retained, and a boy is taught by the example of 
 his teacher, and by the conduct of all around him, to 
 regard religion as an affair of secondary importance — at 
 best to be viewed with awe at a distance — not to be 
 brought into contact with all his aims and ends ; as a 
 something he must submit to of necessity, rather than 
 choose as a source of the purest enjoyment. The pecu- 
 liarities of the gospel, in principle, disposition, and con- 
 duct, are so far from being applauded or enforced, that 
 the very reference to them on any ordinary occasion, 
 would expose him to suspicion, scorn, and reproach. 
 
 This is no idle declamation, but a simple statement of 
 facts ; and it is worth while to enquire the cause of so 
 lamentable a departure from the character of true Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 We will therefore 'examine the course of education 
 pursued in this country, as it is conducted in public 
 schools, or by private tuition, and which, if carried on, 
 is usually completed at one of the universities. 
 
 A public school presents some advantages. These 
 consist chiefly, perhaps, in the superior ability and attain- 
 ments of the masters, who are generally selected from 
 the ablest scholars of the age. The pleas often urged, of 
 the value of connexions, and the knowledge of the world, 
 (which to boys can neither be necessary nor useful,) seem 
 to carry little weight ; and if allowed to possess any, are 
 more than counterbalanced by the evils arising out of 
 numbers, bad companions, and the neglect of the Holy 
 Scriptures, which lay a foundation for habits and conduct 
 
I 
 
 PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 81 
 
 in life beyond measure injurious. Many private schools 
 abound with the same evils, and offer fewer advantages 
 than the larger establishments. In both cases, it has 
 been justly observed, instruction may be secured in the 
 school-room, but education is carried on in the play- 
 ground, or in the dormitory. There is seldom at such 
 seasons any superintendence. Neither the eye nor the 
 ear of the master is with his pupils, and they are, for the 
 most part, left without controul or restraint, to follow 
 the devices of their own minds. A few elder boys pre- 
 scribe the standard of opinion and conduct, and what- 
 ever may be erroneous or corrupt in the leaders, finds a 
 ready acquiescence from those below them. Painful are 
 the details of a Tyro,- who either boasts or laments the 
 fruits of these evil communications. 
 
 The neglect of religion in public schools has often 
 been asserted, and the charge repelled with indignation. 
 Certain it is, however, that the greater number of pupils 
 leave these establishments and enter into life, with an 
 ignorance and indifference towards religion, or with an 
 avowed contempt for it. They have no idea of viewing 
 it as the end of their being, — the rule of their conduct, 
 and to be carried by them as a governing principle into 
 every event and transaction of life. It has evidently 
 not been a prominent feature in their past studies. A 
 form of prayer, a chapter in the Greek Testament on the 
 Sunday, or an exercise for the memory from some ele- 
 mentary author, (and such I believe to be the amount of 
 religious instruction,) are poor substitutes for a constant 
 reference to the commands and promises, the motives 
 and models of the Bible, — for a diligent cultivation of 
 right habits and opinions. Can it be said, with any 
 truth, that the word of God is read daily, or pains taken 
 in its application to the heart and conscience ? Although 
 a decent respect may be incuicated for revelation, is a 
 
32 PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 
 
 boy instructed by liis teacher to regard tbe world as a 
 bauble, and tlie service of God as bis glory ? Are sinful 
 tempers watched over and reproved ? Are heavenly dis- 
 positions cultivated and encouraged with a close and 
 intimate inspection of morals and the employment of 
 leisure hours? They can best answer these questions 
 who have been the victims of vices contracted in our 
 public schools ; or who, when awakened to real prin- 
 ciples and piety in after years, have endured throughout 
 life a kind of martyrdom, in conflicting with the sinful 
 habits acquired in their youthful career. 
 
 The chief studies in our public seminaries are the 
 classics. Science, till of late years, formed no part of 
 them, nor has it even now more than a small share 
 of the seven or eight years devoted to acquire an iraper 
 feet acquaintance with the authors of Greece and Kome. 
 
 The objection made to the use of heathen authors 
 in Christian education are not always valid. Classical 
 knowledge forms a good foundation for theological 
 attainment, while it is considered as the handmaid of 
 religion, and is made subservient to its purposes. An 
 illiterate ministry is never a safe one ; nor can a sound 
 and accurate interpretation of the word of truth be 
 expected without a knowledge of the original languages, 
 and without that disposition to sober and patient investi- 
 gation, which the habits and discipline of the mind, 
 under proper culture, seldom fail to inspire. 
 
 The more valid objections apply rather to the manner 
 of teaching the classics ; to their being viewed as an end, 
 not a means ; and to the measure of time and attention 
 bestowed on them, to the exclusion of more important sub 
 jects which would counteract the evils incident to them. 
 
 While discussing the merits of school education, I 
 cannot refrain from adverting to a modern system, which 
 discards the aid of reliojioa in the hours of instructior. 
 
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 33 
 
 I view this novel experiment with extreme alarm. The 
 reduction of expense, and a plausible pretence to liber- 
 ality of sentiment, has prevailed on men of real piety to 
 give their sanction to it ; and they have been seduced, in 
 their simplicity, to approve a plan more worthy of the 
 enemies of religion than of its friends. The classical 
 tutor must take the Bible in his hand with every book 
 of instruction, or the mind of his pupil will necessarily 
 be exposed to the daily influence of many things which 
 are false in principle aud vicious in practice. He will 
 insensibly be led to prefer knowledge to its right use 
 and application, and to estimate talent above piety. He 
 will despise, as unworthy the manly age, the principles 
 confined to the nursery and the family, and which are 
 never brought before him by those whom he is taught to 
 regard with superior veneration and respect. "We may*, 
 boast of the march of intellect, and treat with supercil- 
 ious contempt the example and usages of former ages, 
 but the diffusion of unsanctified hnowledge will prove a 
 great evil to the community. The feeblest recognitiou 
 of a Deity, and the admission only of the forms of 
 religion — nay, even superstition itself, is preferable to 
 the entire exclusion of all reference to a divine power. 
 
 "Ko institution," said my excellent friend, "can or 
 ought to stand, in which Christ is not the foundation ; 
 and I wholly disapprove of all schemes which delib- 
 erately shut God out of their direction." 
 
 To schools, and particularly to the manner in which 
 they are conducted, Mr. Kichmond felt the strongest 
 repugnance. The sentiments which I have laid before 
 the reader, are, in fact, the substance of conversations 
 with him on these subjects. He never spoke without 
 emotion when he recollected the vices which his eldest 
 son had contracted by a •public education, and the sad 
 influence of bad connexions formed under those cir- 
 
34 PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 
 
 cumstances ; and which, counteracting the good effects 
 of early instruction at home, caused the ruin, as he used 
 to say, ''of his poor wanderer." He resolved, in con- 
 sequence, to adopt the plan of home education, with the 
 assistance of a private tutor. 
 
 Private teaching has certainly some disadvantages, 
 but they are few in comparison of the benefits secured. 
 I grant that there is a danger of irregularity in the 
 hours of study, arising from visitors and invitations — 
 the severity of needful discipline may be softened into 
 a mischievous relaxation by affection, ill-directed and 
 unduly interfering with the teacher — and the stimulus 
 of competition, the desire of distinction and the love of 
 praise (very questionable motives, however) are lost. 
 But these and every other defect of a private education 
 may be remedied ; Avhile advantages of the utmost im- 
 portance in ^ the formation of , character are secured. 
 Eegular habits may be established — interruptions of 
 every kind prevented by a firm resistance to them — 
 motives in unison with the scriptures will be found 
 more than adequate to every occasion — the devotional 
 exercises of the closet may be watched — hourly oppor- 
 tunities will be afibrded for breaking off the shoots of 
 evil as they spring up, an example of principle em- 
 bodied in action may be presented to youthful obser- 
 vation, and affections of the best kind be cultivated 
 between the members of the family — much useful gen- 
 eral knowledge may be imparted, and a fair share of 
 the learning of public schools be acquired. Numbers 
 can only be restrained by force or fear, or excited 
 by pride and interest. Choice, affection, principle, can 
 seldom be employed. The discijDline of a great school 
 must be that of a man-of-war, and it is conducted in 
 either case under much the snme necessity. Two or 
 three boys may be watched every hour — evil checked 
 
PUBLIC AND PEIVATE EDUCATION. 85 
 
 as it arises — every occurrence improved — religion in- 
 fused into every pursuit and instruction, without any 
 necessity for recurring to stimuli which befit only the 
 lowest condition of mortal existence; and are never 
 found, in their application, to produce any other effect 
 than to depress or exasperate generous natures. 
 
 There is an error which universally obtains in every 
 plan of education, public and private, and which is per- 
 haps a principal cause of the distaste of our young per- 
 sons for grave and solid studies. I'hey are never taught 
 to think. Materials in abundance are set before them, 
 but they know nothing of the use and end designed by 
 working them ; they are ignorant of the rationale of 
 grammar, or the application of science. The memory is 
 burdened as a drudge, while the understanding remains 
 torpid and unexercised : and thus the interest which real 
 knowledge inspires is lost in the mere acquisition of 
 words. A boy can give a rule but not a reason. Pesta- 
 lozzi has attempted, with some success, to improve 
 former methods of imparting knowledge, but even his 
 system falls short of rational instruction; in which the 
 understanding and the heart should keep pace with the 
 progress of the memory. The practice of enforcing by 
 authority, instead of leading the mind to investigate, 
 explain, and digest in the exercise of its own energies, 
 disposes a youth to affirm rather than prove ; and resting 
 contented with a crude and superficial acquaintance with 
 all subjects, to shrink from the labour of acquiring solid 
 and accurate information. It would be a very salutary 
 practice to withhold from young persons the use and 
 enjoyment of every thing, however simple, whether an 
 effort of art or nature, till they had prepared themselves 
 to explain its history, origin, place, and means of produc- 
 tion. Thus no moment would run to waste ; and table- 
 talk, which now consists of little more than barren 
 
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 
 
 details, would become a vehicle of mucli interesting and 
 useful communication. 
 
 If science ouglit not to precede language, they should 
 walk together as friends from the commencement, and 
 be associated throughout the progress of education. 
 
 But leaving the reader to form his own opinion on the 
 comparative merits of public and private education, I 
 shall lay before him, in the next chapter, the method re» 
 sorted to by Mr. Eichmond in his family arrangements. 
 
PLAN OF EDUCATIOIT. 37 
 
 CHAPTEE 11. 
 
 And this our life, exempt from public haunt, 
 
 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks. 
 
 Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. 
 
 Shakspearb. 
 
 One great reason why so few people in the world are truly religious, and 
 why among the truly religious so many are not happy in their religion, is this, 
 that early religious habits are too commonly associated, not with cheerfulness, 
 but with constraint and gloom. Jebb. 
 
 Mr. Eichmond's first object was to make home tlae 
 happiest place to his children ; to render them indepen- 
 dent of foreign alliances in their pursuits and friendships ; 
 and so to interest them in domestic enjoyments, as to 
 preclude the feeling, too common in young people, of 
 restlessness and longing to leave their own fire-sides, and 
 wander abroad in search of pleasure and employment. 
 In this attempt to satisfy his family, and engage their 
 compliance with his wishes, he so completely succeeded, 
 that every member of it left home with regret, even for 
 an occasional visit, and returned to Turvey with fond 
 anticipation, — as to the place of their treasures. 
 
 To his daughter F he writes — 
 
 "We are going on quietly at home. 
 
 Little K — ^, by a sudden determination, is gone into 
 Norfolk. My love and respect for your dear, most dear 
 mother, has prevailed to gain my consent ; otherwise I 
 much prefer a mother's and elder sister's roof, for female 
 education, to any school. But I leave this affair in God's 
 hands, and hope he will overrule it for the best. I have 
 long thought that though a good school is better than a 
 bad home, a good home is the best of schools. Children 
 
38 JiMUSEMENTS FOR 
 
 are for the most part educated in temper and habits of 
 all kinds, not by governesses, but bj companions, and 
 here all is contingency. But so mucb of my own liappi- * 
 ness consists in making your dear mamma happy, that I 
 wave my objection to a temporary alienation from the 
 parental roof, and pray God it may not injure K — 's 
 spiritual welfare. Some may think I am too fond of 
 seeing my children around me ; if it be a weakness, I 
 must plead guilty to it : from their infancy I have looked 
 forward, as far as providental circumstances would permit, 
 to find comfort, support, and companionship in my 
 children. My middle, and if spared, my old age, may 
 much require it ; and if my life be short, can any wonder 
 that I should like to s'ee and know much of them while 
 I remain in this world. It has ever been my heart's 
 desire and prayer, to give them a useful, happy, exem- 
 plary home : were I to fail here, life would indeed become 
 a blank to me. I would strive " to roll the troublous 
 trial on God," but I should deeply mourn in secret. 
 Sons must in due season go forth into a wanton and 
 wicked world to seek their bread ; but daughters, while 
 unmarried, are better calculated to become comforters 
 and companions to their parents, as they go down to the 
 
 vale of years 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 A happy home greatly depends on the recreations and 
 amusements which are provided for young people. It is 
 no small difficulty to give a useful direction to their play- 
 hours ; little more has been contemplated in the gambols 
 of youth than the health and activity of their bodies, and 
 the refreshment of their spirits : it is well when these 
 objects can be attained without the indulgence of sinful 
 tempers ; but youthful sports have often proved the nur- 
 sery of pride, ambition, and contention. In public 
 
LEISURE HOURS. 89 
 
 Bchools these evils liave been encouraged, or at least 
 deemed unavoidable. The seed of revenge in manhood 
 has been planted in hoyish violence, and the unheeded 
 acts of oppression by the elder boys towards their juniors, 
 have trained them to tyranny in riper years. Private 
 education affords greater facilities for checking these 
 evils ; but the w^nt of the stimulus supplied by numbers 
 is apt to render the pastime uninteresting, and home 
 distasteful. 
 
 Mr. E. was alive to these inconveniences and endea- 
 voured, by a succession and variety of recreations, to 
 employ the leisure hours to advantage. He had recourse 
 to what was beautiful in nature or ingenious in art or 
 science : and when abroad he collected materials to gratify 
 curiosity. He fitted up his museum, his auctarium and 
 his library, with specimens of mineralogy, instruments for 
 experimental philosophy, and interesting curiosities from 
 every part of the world ; he had his magic lantern to 
 exhibit phantasmagoria, and teach natural history: to 
 display picturesque beauty, and scenes and objects far- 
 famed in different countries ; his various microscopes for 
 examining the minutiae of plants and animals, his tele- 
 scope for tracing planetary revolutions and appearances ; 
 his air-pump and other machines for illustrating and 
 explaining the principles of pneumatics and electricity ; 
 authors of every country who treated on the improve 
 ments connected with modern science ; whatever, in short, 
 could store the mind with ideas, or interest and improve 
 the heart. When he travelled he kept up a correspond- 
 ence with his family, and narrated to them the persons, 
 places, and adventures of his progress. On his return 
 he enlivened many a leisure hour by larger details of all 
 that he had observed to amuse and improve. 
 
 It was a sight truly gratifying to witness the affec- 
 tionate parent in the professor's chair, with a mind richly 
 stored, and a countenance beaming with kindness, fixing 
 
40 AMUSEMENTS FOB 
 
 the attention of Ms youthful auditors, on subjects abstruse 
 in their character, but rendered interesting and intelligible 
 to the happy group which surrounded him. 
 
 Music was another source of domestic amusement in 
 which Mr. E. excelled, being both a good composer, and 
 no mean performer. Many of his children played on 
 some instrument, and occasionally joined their father in 
 a "concert of sweet sounds." He wished to exclude 
 what was frivolous or trifling in this noble art, and 
 delighted in the grave full-toned harmony, as best calcu- 
 lated to inspire corresponding emotions. 
 
 He encouraged the use of the pencil, and was very 
 anxious that his daughters should cultivate their taste 
 for drawing. 
 
 'As I have journeyed along,' he writes to one of his 
 children, 'I have often wished I had the pencil of a 
 ready draughtsman, that I might bring home a bundle 
 of sketches of landscapes, to revive recollections and 
 render natural scenery permanent to the imagination. 
 When I find that this cannot be, I next wish that one or 
 more of my dear children might acquire a talent of this 
 kind, and be a sort of right hand to fulfil my wishes in 
 that way. Perhaps some day you will be that right 
 hand to me. Loving landscape scenery as I do, my 
 grand object to see God in it ; to trace him in every part 
 of his works : to acknowledge his goodness in them, and 
 to collect arguments from them to endear the character 
 of Christ, 'by whom,' the Scripture says, 'all things 
 were made, and without whom was not any thing made 
 that was made.' To this end I wish drawing to be culti- 
 vated. I mourn over pride and vanity, and if accom- 
 plishments are only acquired to gratify these unholy 
 affections, I should wish them banished. Nay, mere 
 innocent pleasure is not a sufficient motive ; the glory of 
 God must be the end and aim of every arttainment, or 
 
LEISUEEHOUES. 41 
 
 else it is a waste of time^ and an abuse of talent. Pencils, 
 paint; Indian ink^ and Indian-rnbber, may be devoted to 
 the honour of him who bestows the power of combining 
 their respective properties, so as to produce the simili- 
 tudes of his works. I am no less anxious about the 
 cultivation of musical talents; there is, however, more 
 danger of music being abused than drawing : the inunda- 
 tion of frivolity, and the sometimes unsuspected associa- 
 tions of a carnal and worldly nature, which mingle with 
 musical compositions of a modern and fashionable cast, 
 often distress and hurt me. The fascinations of the ball- 
 room, the corruptions of the theatre and opera-house, too 
 often creep into the quiet pianoforte corner of young 
 people. Even instrumental music, with its appendages 
 of waltzes, dances, and love-sick airs, has often a ten- 
 dency to familiarize the young mind with subjects 
 injurious to its welfare. The sober dignity of genuine 
 instrumental music is nearly lost in the substitution of 
 modern trick and blandishment: but if instrumental 
 music be thus abused, how much more so vocal : here 
 the art and science of music opens its richest stores of 
 opportunity for gloryfying God and edifying man : here 
 all the charms, and all the contrivances of this sublime 
 faculty, present innumerable means of spiritualizing the 
 heart, gratifying the ear, exalting the understanding, and 
 improving the affections : but here, alas I the world, the 
 flesh, and the devil have grasped the powers of the 
 musical art in too many instances, and sacrificed them 
 all to Dagan and Baal, to vice and folly, to levity and 
 wantonness, to fascination and delusion. Love songs, 
 drinking songs, vice-provoking songs, and many other 
 sorts of songs, resound from house to house in public 
 and private, and prove to demonstration the idols which 
 men and even women serve, and consequently " whose 
 they are." What a profanation of a holy art ! what a 
 degradation of a noble science! I am persuaded that 
 
 4* 
 
42 AMUSEMENTS FOR LEISURE HOURS. 
 
 music is designed to prepare for heaven ; to educate for 
 the choral enjoyment of paradise ; to form the mind to 
 virtue and devotion, and to charm away evil, and 
 sanctify the heart to God. A Christian musician is one 
 who has a harp in his affections, which he daily tunes 
 to the notes of the angelic host, and with which, he makes 
 melody in his heart to the Lord. Does he strike the 
 chord- with his hands ? it is to ' bid lute and harp to 
 awake to the glory of God.' The hand, the tongue, and 
 the ear, form a kind of triple chord not to be broken. 
 
 Bring music, my beloved F , to this test, and your 
 
 vocal hours will not be spent in vain. The instructions 
 of your childhood will supply you through life with a 
 fountain of pleasures, drawn from the true source of 
 legitimate recreation. Sing the songs of Zion, and 
 amidst the vibrations of the air may true prayer and 
 praise ascend to heaven, and enter into the ears of the 
 Lord God of your salvation ; and then will the harmo- 
 nious combination be complete. Pray for grace to guide 
 you in all your duties, that you may comfort, assist, and 
 strengthen your invaluable mother in all her cares and 
 labours, by your dutiful, diligent, and affectionate regard 
 to her precepts, example, and wishes. May your brothers 
 in particular learn from you, and you from Christ, what 
 Christian meekness, activity, and sobriety mean. Watch 
 over them with a sister's heart and a sister's prayers, and 
 they will be heard and answered. Go to school again 
 and again. Whither ? To what school, papa ? To the 
 school of Christ, where the Great Instructor waits to 
 teach and bless you. Go thither, my child, and carry 
 your sins, and your cares, and your weaknesses and your 
 errors, and your affections and your hopes, and your 
 fears and your resolutions, and your friends, and your 
 brothers, and your sisters, and your mother, and 
 Your own true loving father, 
 
 Legh Kichmond." 
 
THEKALEIDESCOPE. 43 
 
 It was a maxim with Mr. Eiclimond, that the mind 
 needed not idleness or frivolity to restore its energies, or 
 fit it for graver studies ; but might always find a suf&- 
 cient relaxation in variety : and his success in associating 
 some useful pursuit with the recreations of his young 
 people, proves the correctness of his judgment in this 
 respect. 
 
 The principal characteristic, however, of his mode of 
 education, was the piety infused into every employment 
 or pleasure. Whether in the field or in the museum,— 
 whether he examined what was beautiful to the eye,- or 
 indulged in what was harmonious to the ear, — whethei 
 he made an experiment or related an event, — everything 
 was connected, in his own mind and in that of his child- 
 ren, with him who '^giveth all things richly to enjoy; " 
 — everything afforded him an illustration of some reli- 
 gious truth, or was employed to inspire some devout 
 affection. The connection of religion with science was 
 a favourite topic, on which he used to enlarge with great 
 satisfaction. His happy manner, in combining instruc- 
 tion with amusement, appears from the two following 
 specimens. The first of these is a meditation on the 
 wonders of the kaleidescope, and which he presented to 
 
 his daughter F , with a view to engage her attention 
 
 to this simple and elegant instrument. ^'See, my dear 
 
 F , what this new discovery, which has afforded us so 
 
 much amusement, may do to improve our heads and 
 heart. 
 
 "I took up my kaleidescope, and as I viewed with 
 delight the extraordinary succession of beautiful images 
 which it presented to my sight, I was struck, 
 
 " 1. AVith the singular phenomenon of perfect order 
 being invariably and constantly produced out of perfect 
 disorder, — so that as, by magical influence, confusion, 
 and irregularity seemed to become the prolific parents of 
 symmetry and beauty. 
 
44 THE KALEIDESCOPE. 
 
 "2. It occurred to me, tliat the universality of its 
 adoption would imperceptibly lead to the cultivation of 
 the principles of taste, elegance, and beauty, through the 
 whole of the present and following generations ; and that 
 from the philosopher and artist, down to the poorest 
 child in the community. 
 
 " 3. I admired the effect produced by new and varied 
 combinations of colours as well as forms. The analysis 
 of this kind of arrangement is here attended with unpre- 
 cedented facility and advantage. The artist, the philos- 
 opher, the admirer, both of the works of nature and of 
 art, may here find a source of amusement almost peculiar 
 to the use of this instrument. 
 
 " 4. I saw a vast accession to the sources of inven- 
 tion, in its application to the elegant arts and manufac- 
 tures, and the consequent growth of a more polished and 
 highly-cultivated state of habits, manners, and refinement 
 in both. 
 
 ''5. I mused with delight on the powers and effects 
 of geometrical arrangement and combination, so easily 
 exhibited to the eye, and so characteristic of the optical 
 principle on which the instrument is constructed. 
 
 '' 6. I was struck with the idea of infinite variety, — 
 more strikingly demonstrated to the eye than by any 
 former experiment; Here the sublime mingles with the 
 beautiful. 
 
 ". 7. I perceived a kind of visible music. The com- 
 bination of form and colour produced harmony, their 
 succession melody ; thus what an organ or piano-forte is 
 to the ear, the kaleidescope is to tlie eye. I was delighted 
 with this analogy between the senses, as exercised in this 
 interesting experiment. 
 
 " 8. I thought that God was very good to afford and 
 permit so innocent and gratifying a source of recreation 
 to all ranks of my fellow-countrymen ; a recreation aris- 
 ing partly from the exhibition of so much loveliness to 
 
THE KALEIDESGOPE. 45 
 
 that sense of siglit wliicli lie has formed, and partly from 
 the exercise of the mental faculties of reason and taste 
 in meditating upon the beautiful vision. 
 
 "I laid my kaleidescope down, and thought of the 
 adorable attributes of him from whom all blessings, 
 earthly and heavenly, flow. 
 
 " I took up my kaleidescope again, and was led in the 
 contemplation of its use and beauties, to think, 
 
 ^' 1. Here I am to see, on the one hand, the ruin and 
 disorder of human nature; and on the other, the mar- 
 vellous influence of grace in producing out of these 
 materials, order, beauty, and restoration. 
 
 " 2. My instrument I compared to a telescope-glass, 
 which faith and hope put into my hand; — I saw through 
 one end of the tube, the world, and our life in it, a scene 
 of confusion and tribulation; strange revolutions and 
 mysterious complexities. Through the other, I beheld 
 promised delights, heavenly realities, beauty for ashes, 
 and the wilderness blooming like a rose. I took the 
 hint, and saAV reasons for resignation, contentment, and 
 patient waiting for the glory that shall be revealed. 
 
 ''3. I observed, as I gently turned my instrument 
 round, how quickly the pleasures of sense vanished. 
 The phantom which delighted me but a moment before 
 was gone — for ever gone — irrecoverably lost ! Let me 
 not, then, said I, set my heart on that which so quickly 
 taketh wing and fleeth away. Such is the world and its 
 delights. 
 
 " 4. But again as I looked, new beauties constantly 
 succeeded those which had passed away. Now I thought, 
 how does the Lord multiply his mercies in constant 
 variety and succession. In the succession of beautiful 
 configurations in my glass, is an emblem of the endless 
 goodness of my God, whose tender mercies are over all 
 his works. 
 
 '^ 5. In this chaos of confusion, thus made to produce 
 
4o THE KALEIDESCOPE. 
 
 beauty and order, I seem to see a representation of the 
 primitive work of the Great ' Creator, who, when the 
 earth was without form, and void, sent forth his Spirit, 
 and therewith created an universe in all its original 
 perfection. 
 
 " 6. When I look at my little fragments of glass and 
 stones, and observe how, from such apparently despi- 
 cable materials, such beauty and symmetry arise, I learn 
 not to despise the day of small things, and to count 
 nothing unworthy of my notice. I learn how God has 
 chosen the foolish things of this world, to confound the 
 wise, and base things of this world, and things which 
 are despised hath God chosen ; yea, and things which are 
 not, to bring to nought things that are, that no flesh 
 should glory in his presence. 
 
 '' I concluded by reflecting, how the works of creation, 
 the principles of natural philosophy, the discoveries of 
 science, and the ingenuities of art, illustrate and demon- 
 strate the attributes of the God of redemption. My 
 kaleidescope shows me, in the harmony of its colours, 
 the union of his excellences; in the symmetry of its 
 forms, his wisdom ; in the invariable efiicacy of its 
 principles, his faithfulness; in the endless diversity of 
 its figures, his infinity ; in the simplicity of its essential 
 character, his unity ; in its faculty of producing novelty, 
 his power ; in its ability to delight, his goodness ; and in 
 its aflbrding me this opportunity of so seeing him in it, 
 his love. 
 
 *' I laid down my kaleidescope, that I might praise and 
 adore the author of all my mercies." 
 
 The next article was composed by Mr. Richmond with 
 the view of fixing the solar system in the memory ; for 
 which purpose he made use of verse : and as it may be 
 a useful technica mcmoria to other children, it is here pre- 
 sented to them. 
 
T 11 E K A L E I D E S C O P E. 4? 
 
 In tliis instance, also, it may be observed, Iioav steadily 
 he kept in view his ulterior design, of raising tlie mind 
 from the visible heavens to the knowledge and love of 
 Him whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain, but 
 whose eternal power and godhead, whose majesty, wisdom, 
 and goodness, shine forth in the things that he has made. 
 
 He used frequently to repeat, '' An undevout astro- 
 nomer is mad." He would observe, " Astronomy fills 
 the mind with the most elevated conceptions of the mag- 
 nificence of the Deity ; and sinks us down and humbles 
 us to the dust, with a sense of our own utter insignifi- 
 cance; sensations mingled with others of a sweet and 
 tender character in the survey of His benevolence. 
 
 " Creation was Adam's library ; God bid him read the 
 interesting volumes of his works, which were designed 
 to make known the divine character. To gratify curiosity 
 only, in the study of the ' creatures, is to lose sight of 
 their end in relation to man. I would have my dear 
 children see Grod in every thing. It is not merely a 
 transitory emotion I wish to raise in their minds, but a 
 habit of referring, ^in all they see, to their Maker with 
 delight and reverence. I will never consent to shut Grod 
 out of his own universe, or divorce science and religion, 
 which he has joined together ; and which ought to dwell 
 with each other in unity and love.'^ 
 
 * In these remarks I perfectly concur. What, indeed, is religion but a 
 knowledge of God, with an enjoyment of him in the affections of the heart? 
 The Greeks use a term (evSePeia) to describe it, which signifies a becoming 
 reverence. The Latins employ another word (religlo, a re et ligo) still moro 
 descriptive of its character, which means a re-uniting of a part to its whole. 
 Man has been torn as it were, from God by his apostasy,— a creature separate 
 from the Creator. The business of religion, and of all religious education, is 
 to bring man back to God, in his thoughts, affections, aims and pursuiio; so 
 that spiritually as well as naturally, he may live and move, and have his being 
 in God. Science, when employed as the handmaid of religion, will be found a 
 most useful auxiliary; and literature of every kind, especially such as is con- 
 nected with the works or ways of the Deity, if pursued in the spirit of piety, 
 
48 THE SOLAK SYSTEM. 
 
 THE SOLAE SYSTEM. 
 
 As we looked at the skies, my dear children, last nightj 
 And their beauties and wonders attracted our sight ; 
 Of explaining their nature you set me the task, 
 So I'll try to afford the instruction you ask. 
 
 T H E s u N. 
 
 In the midst of our system the Sun takes his place, 
 
 And brilliantly shines through the regions of space ; 
 
 He illumines the planets, and by his attraction 
 
 Preserves all their motions in regular action. 
 
 He turns round his axis in twenty-five days, 
 
 While his light ne'er decreases, his heat ne'er decays : 
 
 His diameter viewed with the nicest attention. 
 
 Proves near nine hundred thousand miles in dimension; 
 
 Around this vast orb revolutions are seen, 
 
 Of the planets eleven, with their moons, just eighteen. 
 
 MERCURY. 
 
 First Mercury moves mid the bright solar rays, 
 Completing his orbit in eighty-eight days ; 
 The breadth of his disk at three thousand is given, 
 The distance, of millions of miles, thirty-seven 
 
 Next Yenus advances, with radiant smiles. 
 From the sun distant sixty-nine millions of miles ; 
 She revolves round her centre in months about eight, 
 And compared with our earth she in size is as great: 
 In beauty resplendent she shines from afar, 
 And gladdens the eye as a morn or eve star. 
 
 THE EARTH. 
 
 Amidst this grand range of celestial pavilions. 
 Next comes at a distance of ninety-five millions. 
 The globe of the Earth, with* its faithful attendant, 
 
 hai a tendency to improve and sanctify the heart. With this view Mr. Rich, 
 mond encouraged his children to study diligmtly, that they might lovo and serve 
 Go^ fervpntly. 
 
THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 49 
 
 Both alike on the sun's gravitation dependent, 
 Earth revolves, as enlightened by Sol's mighty blaze, 
 In three hundred and sixty and five of our days ; 
 Round her axis impelled by omnipotent power, 
 She turns and returns by the twenty-fourth hour. 
 Near eight thousand miles is the breadth of her span. 
 And thus she was formed for the dwelling of man : 
 As the sun rules by day, so the moon rules by night. 
 Each affording in turn their magnificent light. 
 
 THE MOON. 
 
 The Moon's time in her path, as the earth she moves round, 
 
 Just twenty-nine days and a half will be found : 
 
 From the earth she is distant, although she seems near, 
 
 Twenty-four times ten thousand of miles it is clear. 
 
 By the light of the sun her fair face is adorned, 
 
 While she sometimes is gibbous and sometimes is horned. 
 
 When at full she's quite round, when new she's not seen. 
 
 But whenever she shines, is of night the gay queen : 
 
 Of high hills and deep vales she has plentiful store, 
 
 And her breadth of our miles is two thousand and more. 
 
 By his glass, the astronomer clearly discerns 
 
 In a month round her axis she statedly turns : 
 
 Thus the earth and the moon are impelled by a force. 
 
 Which preserves all their motions in annual course. 
 
 MARS. 
 
 Next revolving amidst the bright region of stars. 
 We behold in his orbit the ruddy-faced Mars. 
 He appears to move on without lunar assistance. 
 At a hundred and forty-four millions of distance. 
 While twenty-four hours, like our own, make his day, 
 Near two years will accomplish his annual way j 
 His diameter measures four thousand and two. 
 And his radiance is marked by his roseate hue. 
 
 THE ASTEROIDS. 
 
 Four Planets come next of diminutive size. 
 
 Too small, without aid, to be seen with our eyes : 
 
 But the telescope proves of what nature they are, 
 
 And discovers their motions as viewed from afar, 
 5 
 
50 T H E S O L A R S Y S T E M. 
 
 In order comes Vesta, then Juno, then Ceres, 
 Whose orbit to Pallas exceedingly near is j 
 But these Asteroids no more shall absorb 
 The attention now due unto Jupiter's orb. 
 
 JUPITER, 
 
 Enlightened by Sol with refulgence he smiles. 
 Though distant near five hundred millions of miles S 
 His splendour the heavens is ever adorning, 
 As the jewel of eve, or the herald of morning, 
 His diameter ninety-one thousand is found, 
 He in less than ten hours his own axis turns round : 
 His magnificent globe, as it plainly appears. 
 Revolves round the sun in near twelve of our years J 
 Cloudy belts cross his surface in parallel lines, 
 Yet through them the planet with brilliancy shines. 
 His constant companions, to cheer the dark night, 
 Four satellites lend him their regular light : 
 That they truly revolve, by our glasses is seen, 
 In their periods or months from two days to sixteen. 
 
 SATURN. 
 
 Now far beyond Jupiter on we advance. 
 
 And find a whole system of worlds at a glance. 
 
 Seven moons around Saturn transcendently shine. 
 
 Preserved in their orbit by impulse divine. 
 
 Nine hundred of millions from Sol he 's removed, 
 
 So their nightly assistance is constantly proved. 
 
 When measured, the breadth of the planet is great, 
 
 In thousands of miles it is seventy and eight : 
 
 Twenty-nine and a half of our years must be run 
 
 Ere Saturn his journey performs round the sun : 
 
 In fourteen to twelve hours the astronomers say, 
 
 The planet's rotation completes his own day : 
 
 But that which most singular makes it appear. 
 
 Is two luminous rings which encompass his sphere j 
 
 It would seem that his splendour of radiance bound him 
 
 As detached from his orb they receive both around him. 
 
 Heaven does not present a more beautiful sight 
 
 Than this planet, his rings, and his moons, seen at night. 
 
THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 51 
 
 URAXUS, HEUSCHEL, ORGEORGIUM SID US. 
 
 But, as farther we penetrate heavenly regions, 
 
 When the stars are abounding in multiplied legions, 
 
 We meet with a planet of magnitude vast, 
 
 Which of those yet discovered is reckoned the last. 
 
 Call it Uranus, Herschel, or Georgium Sidus, 
 
 A sight of his disc without help is denied us. 
 
 But when brought by the aid of the telescope near 
 
 His surface is manifest, beauteous and clear. 
 
 Eighteen hundred millions removed from the sun, 
 
 It is eighty-four years ere its orbit is run, 
 
 Thirty-four thousand miles in his breadth 'tis maintained, 
 
 Of his motions diurnal no knowledge is gained. 
 
 Six bright beaming moons shed their rays o'er his night. 
 
 Like himself, from the sun, all deriving their light. 
 
 THE COMETS. 
 
 But still we pursue astronomical song, 
 
 As not planets alone to our system belong. 
 
 Many hundreds of comets, in orbits most strange. 
 
 By solar attraction obediently range, 
 
 With their fringes of air, their long fiery tails. 
 
 Whenever they 're seen admiration prevails : 
 
 But their lengthened elliptical paths in the sky 
 
 The powers of astronomy seem to defy. 
 
 So short is their stay, they escape observation 
 
 On which we can ground a correct calculation. 
 
 They've so come and so gone, so appeared and so vanished, 
 
 That successful prediction they 've hitherto banished. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 To the system named Solar, I call your attention, 
 
 Of the stars that are fixed I shall now wave the mention, 
 
 But while their instruction I 've sought to impart, 
 
 I've wished to inspire the best thoughts in your heart. 
 
 With deep veneration, oh lift up your eyes. 
 
 And contemplate these works of the God of the skies : 
 
 He formed them, he governs, he guides every motion, 
 
 And by them he summons each soul to devotion. 
 
 The firmament sheweth the work of his hand, 
 
 Such wisdom and power adoration command. 
 
52 THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 
 
 Each planet revolves, and each comet appears, 
 To exalt the great God of our days and our years. 
 Not a star but its lustre shall loudly proclaim 
 The magnificent praise of his excellent name. 
 Join the chorus above, and let glory be given 
 To Him that directs both on earth and in heaven. 
 
 Many advantages were obtained bj tlie introduction 
 of popular science into my friend's family circle as an 
 amusement ; a dislike of low and vulgar pursuits was 
 inspired; an occupation found for every moment; and 
 materials procured for useful conversation in tbeir private 
 intercourse; full employment and improving pursuits 
 are favourable to morality and religion ; nor is it neces- 
 sary to allow cbildren, even in their pastimes, to be more 
 cliildisii than a childish age requires. The notion is 
 injurious to them, that a waste of time is felicity, and its 
 profitable employment an ungrateful necessity. Nor can 
 eminence be expected in any thing in which the heart is 
 not engaged. It should therefore be the constant effort 
 of a teacher to interest while he instructs, and to bring 
 the hour of recreation into unison with that of the school- 
 room, making it subservient to it. It was my friend's 
 anxious desire and- sedulous endeavour to get the heart 
 on the side of truth, to infuse an innocent prepossession 
 in its favour, and make duty enjoyment. It was often 
 said by the members of his family : '' We love religion, 
 because we see papa so lovely and happy under its 
 influence 1 " 
 
AMUSEMENTS. 53 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 * A man's nature runs either to herbs or weeds, therefore let him seasonably 
 water the one and destroy the other.'— Bacon. 
 
 With so many resources of innocent and improving 
 amusement; Mr. R's. young people felt no regret at the 
 interdict which their father placed on all games of 
 chance ; on fishing, field-sports, dancing ; the theatre, 
 oratorios, and other sources of gratification, which he 
 thought to be inconsistent with the spirit of religion ; 
 connected with much evil ; and a preparation for it. I 
 have heard him say, 'Even where there is no positive 
 evil, I think it important to draw a strong line of demar- 
 cation between the church and the world. The mixed 
 multitude set the Israelites a lusting after the flesh-pots 
 of Egypt : and evil communications never fail to corrupt 
 good manners. There may be no sin in dancing, but it 
 is a preparation for appearing hereafter where I think 
 there is scarcely anything else. Cards are a waste of 
 time which may be much better employed ; and they are 
 too nearly allied to the gaming-table, which fills me with 
 , horror. To field-sports I have a still more decided objec- 
 tion : they are defended on the ground of promoting 
 health ; but whatever benefit the body may receive, it is 
 at the expense of the soul. I know not on what prin- 
 ciples a man can justify the taking away of life for his 
 amusement. God allows him to kill animals for food, or 
 to destroy them when they prove an annoyance to him; 
 but I can find no authority in the Bible for deriving 
 enjoyment from the infliction of a cruel death ; - it is 
 right founded on might — a mere act of tyranny, and an 
 abuse of power. The man who should whip a beast to 
 
 5* 
 
54 AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 death, or cut him up alive like an Abyssinian savage, 
 would be deemed a monster; yet the same man may 
 hunt to death, and halloo, and exult with delight, while 
 his dogs are tearing to pieces a defenceless animal, and 
 yet be considered a gentleman and a Christian. Then 
 there are the after events of the day! — and surely to 
 spend five or six hours in the evening commending the 
 bark of a cur, or discanting on the endeavours of a fox 
 to elude his pursuers, is unworthy an intelligent being, 
 even if there were no worse accompaniments. 
 
 I asked him if he thought shooting equally objection- 
 able. He replied : shooting may not issue in all the 
 results of hunting; but I should be miserable all the 
 while my boys were scampering over the fields with a 
 gun. Sad accidents are continually occurring from 
 letting young people carry fire-arms; but my great 
 objection to all these sports is the same ; I cannot think 
 it right to seek gratification in inflicting suffering and 
 death. I ^now that God has given us the creatures for 
 our sustenance, and it is lawful to use them to this end ; 
 but with my views and principles, I find it hard to con- 
 ceive a right-minded man feeling pleasure while he 
 inflicts pain. He would rather be disposed to say with 
 an old writer, 'I can never eat my dinner when I 
 remember that I am living by the death of a creature 
 which my sin has destroyed.' As for exercise, we might 
 surely find other pursuits for this purpose. There 
 appears to me the same delusion in the argument which 
 has sometimes been employed to defend shooting, as in 
 that which is urged by card-players, — we must have a 
 stake, however small, or we shaft lose all interest in the 
 game. Surely we might walk as far and as long as we 
 pleased for exercise, without a gun. Pascal explains the 
 whole matter, when he says, ^A man is not running 
 after the game, but trying to run away from himself.' 
 The race-ground presents such a scene of folly and 
 
AMUSEMENTS. 55 
 
 knavery, that it does not deserve a serious argiiment. 
 The stage abounds with everything which is offensive to 
 the mind of a Christian, What think you of a cele- 
 brated tragedian, who forbade her daughter to connect 
 herself with the theatre? Surely this speaks volumes. 
 Did it never strike you that an actor (y7roiiQiri]g) has 
 given a name to the worst of vices. 
 
 " Fishing is generally deemed a harmless amusement, 
 but I cannot allow it to be a fit recreation for a Chris- 
 tian. What are we to think of impaling a worm, and 
 being highly delighted while the poor creature suffers 
 exquisite torture for our sport If we use an artificial 
 bait, yet is time, the precious hours of life, so valueless 
 that we can afford to throw away half or a whole day in 
 this trifling ? " 
 
 '^What is your opinion of oratorios?" "My fond- 
 ness," he replied, " for music may be supposed to make 
 me a partial judge in this case. I see no objection to a 
 concert, when the music is properly selected, yet I am 
 jealous of this sort of amusement, and should think it 
 necessary to be very cautious in encouraging a taste for 
 public exhibition of any kind. We never attend orato- 
 rios in a church, I consider it a desecration of the 
 house of God to use it for any other purpose but that 
 of religion; it shocks me to hear clapping and noisy 
 expression of pleasure, when a passage of Scripture and 
 the name of God is made a vehicle for mere amusement. 
 It is absurd to talk of devotional feelings on such occa- 
 sions. As to all these things, I think that God has given 
 us immortal sonls to prepare for heaven. People may 
 cry. What great harm in this or in that? They may 
 have a plausible pretext for doing what I condemn ; for 
 there is nothing, however absurd or wicked, which will 
 want an advocate or an argument to support it. I lay 
 down this general rule for all occupations. Whatever 
 has a tendency to fit my children for heaven, I approve ; 
 
56 KEEPING OF BIKTH-DAYS, WITH 
 
 but I must keep aloof from everything whicli is likely 
 to be a snare or a temptation to them, or to indispose 
 their minds to a serious and steady pursuit of this one 
 great object. 
 
 ' Did you ever hear of a Bishop on the race-ground or 
 in a theatre ? Would he not disgrace himself, even in 
 the eyes of the world, by being present at such places ? 
 "Why so? Because it would he out of character. The 
 universal suffrage denounces these amusements as incon- 
 sistent with a heavenly mind, and with the sacred ofl&ce 
 of a spiritual guide. Surely this is the strongest cen- 
 sure on the amusements themselves : it is, in fact, saying, 
 the more heavenly the man, the more unsuitable are 
 such things to his character. 
 
 ''I have often thought that a Christian by profession, 
 who allowed himself in the indulgence of such things as 
 have furnished the subject of our conversation, must be 
 at a loss how to describe the pomps and vanities of this 
 wicked world, which he has renounced at his baptism." 
 
 These remarks may excite a smile, as childish scru- 
 pulosities; or a sneer, as mere fanaticism; but hard 
 names are bad substitutes for solid arguments. Jt will 
 not be easy to satisfy a sober, reflecting mind, that Mr. 
 Eichmond's judgment was either weak or superstitious. 
 
 Before we leave the subject of amusement, I shall 
 advert to another kind of recreation, which Mr. E. 
 provided for his young people; — the celebration of 
 birth-days. On his own birth-day he attended divine 
 service, when he preached a sermon to his congregation, 
 and endeavoured to improve the lapse of time by acts of 
 prayer and praise. The summons was cheerfully obeyed, 
 and the parish bells rang merrily. Great numbers 
 attended church, to worship God, and congratulate their 
 pastor on the occasion. In the course of the day he 
 always wrote to his mother, while she was alive, and 
 
LETTEKS ON THESE OCCASIONS. 67 
 
 affectionately reminded her and himself of their endeared 
 connection. On the day following, he invited a party of 
 his parishioners to dine at the rectory. This birth-day 
 entertainment was looked forward to by them with great 
 interest, and was made an occasion of courteous hospi- 
 tality. The company was of a mixed character, and was 
 received by Mr. R. with a kindness and attention to their 
 innocent recreation, which never failed to gratify his 
 guests. The evening was spent in music, and his family 
 formed a little band of performers in full concert. The 
 birth-days of his children were kept with no less refer- 
 ence to religion, though in a more private manner. He 
 commended them to God for his blessing and favour. 
 He wrote each of them a letter of congratulation, usually 
 accompanied by a present -of some useful kind. The day 
 was spent in innocent festivity, and the evening was 
 employed in the museum, where he gave a lecture on 
 experimental philosophy. These seasons were antici- 
 pated by the children with much delight, and their 
 recurrence contributed, in a great degree, to promote the 
 harmony of the family, by a reciprocity of affectionate 
 interest among its members. 
 
 I shall here transcribe a letter or two, as specimens 
 of Mr. Richmond's birth-day correspondence. The birth- 
 day was kept as usual, even when the child was absent : 
 and whether absent or present, a letter of congratulation 
 was written on the occasion, 
 
 "Let not my little loved K suppose that her 
 
 father forgets her. Yaxham may seem a long distance 
 from Turvey; Glasgow is a much greater, but in neither 
 place can my heart forget my child. I remember you a 
 little babe in my arms. I loved you then. I remember 
 you lying in your little cot, and I swung you there, and 
 loved you all the while. 
 
58 KEEPING OF BIETH-DAYS, WITH 
 
 "I recollect your first attempts to walk, and your 
 many consequent little downfalls. I raised you up from 
 your stumblings and your tumblings; I dried your 
 tearS; and loved you still more. I have not forgotten 
 your endeavours to talk, nor your droll little prattlings ; 
 nor your first calling me papa, and dearly I loved you 
 for it : and altbougb these things have long since passed 
 away, and time has added to your years, my love for my 
 K is not diminished. I often see you in imagina- 
 tion, and draw fanciful pictures of your occupations in 
 your new dwelling ; but what is my love compared with 
 that of your heavenly Father. What is the strongest 
 earthly affection, when contrasted with that which said, 
 ' Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them 
 not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven.' Has my 
 child's heart an earnestness, a real unfeigned earnestness, 
 to share in the love of such a Father, and to come when 
 so mercifully called, to such a Saviour? By nature 
 ^'foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child:" never- 
 theless by grace a young child's heart may become the 
 temple of the Holy Ghost, and the residence of God him- 
 self. Think of little Jane, the Young Cottager. May 
 you resemble her in whatever she resembled Christ. She 
 was a dear little girl, and I wish there were thousands 
 more like her. Many have been made sensible of their 
 sinful state while reading that story, and, through the 
 blessing of God, have been brought to love the same 
 Eedeemer, and have lived and died rejoicing in their 
 Saviour. I hope, my child, you pray not only with 
 your lips, but with your heart. While you are actively 
 and dutifully employed in acquiring useful knowledge, 
 " be fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." In a little time 
 you will be in your teens, and the very sound of that 
 word should awaken you not to the usual folly and 
 vanity of this period of life, but to the responsibility of 
 growing years and increasing privileges : to the cultiva* 
 
LETTERS ON" THESE OCCASIONS. 59 
 
 tion of lioly learning and Christian habits : to the love 
 of Jesus ; and communion with his Spirit^ It is my 
 prayer, let it be your's. And now, farewell, my dear 
 
 K . May you realize every fond hope, temporal, 
 
 spiritual, and eternal, of 
 
 Your affectionate Father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 The following letter was written the year after, and 
 on a similar occasion : — 
 
 ^'Accept a birth-day blessing from your affectionate 
 
 father, my dearest K : a father who loves you with 
 
 all his heart and soul. This day thirteen years brought 
 you into a world of sins, sorrows, mercies, hopes, and 
 fears : surely it is a day much to be remembered ; not so 
 much by feastings and twelfth-cakes, as by prayers and 
 supplications to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, that he would grant you grace to put away the 
 follies of childhood, and to enter upon what is commonly 
 called your 'teens,' with a clean heart and a right spirit. 
 May my dear child be a vessel of mercy, filled with all 
 the blessings of the Spirit of God, and fitted for a happy 
 eternity. May the love of Jesus warm your heart with 
 every affection which can adorn the Christian name and 
 character. May your early attainments, at this period 
 of a diligent childhood, prepare you to be the comfort 
 and prop of your parents in their advancing years, if life 
 be spared to them. Be conscientious in all you do. 
 Idleness and inattention to instruction always prove 
 that something is very wrong in principle. Diligence in 
 the improvement of your mind is a tribute of obedience 
 both to God and your parents. I rejoice to hear from 
 your kind governess that you improve in this respect. I 
 trust, my dear child, we shall never receive any intima- 
 tion of your failure in so important a matter. If you 
 
60 KEEPING OF BIRTn-DAYS^ WITH 
 
 love those at home, (and I am persuaded you do love 
 tliem tenderly,) ever strive to make tliem happy and easy 
 on your account. I need not tell you that every one 
 round our iire-side unites with me in the congratulations 
 
 of this day. There is but one heart amongst us. M 
 
 and H mention your birth-day in their letters. Our 
 
 Christian circle is reduced when three daughters are 
 absent : but love, memory, and imagination often bring 
 them all together, and half fill the vacant chairs which 
 they used to occupy. Your brother Kugent has been 
 mercifully preserved from an awfal shipwreck in India ; 
 the vessel was totally lost, but all the lives saved, and he 
 has got a station in another ship. ' They that go down 
 to the sea in ships, — that do business in great waters, — 
 these see the works of the Lord, and his Avonders in the 
 
 deep.' (Psalm cvii. 23 — 31.) And now, my K ^ 
 
 with a repetition of every wish, prayer, and blessing, 
 believe me. 
 
 Your affectionate Father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 *' Perhaps my dear little C thought she was too 
 
 young to receive a letter ; but you see I have not for- 
 gotten you, nor L either, for whom you may tear 
 
 off the other half of this sheet, and if he cannot read it 
 himself, some one will read it to him. I wish very much 
 to know how you are behaving since I saw you : what 
 character will your pen and your needle give of you 
 when I ask them ? and what will your book say ? Your 
 playthings, perhaps, will whisper that you have been 
 very fond of them; well, a little fond of them you may 
 be, but you must not think only of them, my little nur- 
 sery queen. There are better things than playthings in 
 the world, — there are mammas and mamma's command- 
 ments; and papas, and papa's wishes; and sisters, and 
 Bister's instructions ; and there is the Bible, and the God 
 
LETTEE3 ON THESE OCCASIONS. 61 
 
 of the Bible, and Jesus Christ and his salvation. My 
 little girl must think of these things, and be an example 
 to her young brothers, in order, obedience, and good 
 manners, &c. 
 
 " You are now at that age when Jesus ' increased in 
 wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man.' 
 Meditate on this. I am glad to think you are acquiring 
 knowledge ; but ever keep in mind, that all other know- 
 ledge is valuable or not, just as far as it is united to 
 spiritual knowledge. The word of God and its blessings 
 form the highest study of man. ' May my children grow 
 in such knowledge. Farewell, my child ; try in every- 
 thing to please, your dear papa, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 '^P. S. — I send a box of changeable ladies to amuse 
 you, but I do not wish you to become one of the change- 
 able ladies ; yet my heart prays that you may prove a 
 changed soul." 
 
 "I cannot let a parcel go to Yaxham without telling 
 
 my dear C how much her father loves her. This is 
 
 a day of grateful recollections, and hopeful anticipations. 
 God bless my child. May she grow in grace with increas 
 ing years : may she be diligent in her studies, docile in 
 disposition, devotionally fervent in spirit, and unwearied 
 in well-doing ! 
 
 " My anxieties have been great since I saw you. My 
 heart has so clung to my dear boy, that every tendei 
 feeling and affection has been exercised in the separation 
 from my beloved Wilberforce ; but the loss has not 
 diminished but increased my love to the endeared children 
 whom God still spares to me. I cannot say one-thou- 
 sandth part of what I would on this subject, but my 
 heart prays that you may all grow in the knowledge of 
 Him with whom Ms soul now lives in blessedness. I 
 
62 KEEPING OF BIRTH-DAYS; "WITH 
 
 hope mTich good has arisen to your brothers and sisters 
 at home, from the sanctified effects of this heavy trial. 
 
 May my C feel it likewise, and so experience the 
 
 power of real religion in her heart, that it may appear in 
 her life and conversation. I am very anxious on this 
 subject. A great work of gracious awakening has taken 
 place in the village, in connexion with Wilberforce's 
 happy end. Many careless souls are surprisingly changed. 
 This is a mercy, — an unspeakable mercy to me as their 
 minister. Oh ! I want all my children to share abund- 
 antly in these views of heavenly grace. I earnestly 
 covet for them these best gifts. Others will have told 
 you by this parcel how much they love you. This letter 
 can but very feebly say how dear you are, in the love of 
 a Saviour 
 
 To your affectionate father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 "My mucii-loved boy, 
 
 ''You expressed some disappointment at dinner, 
 because you had not received your dear mamma's pro- 
 mised letter on your birth-day. What has been the 
 cause of the failure I know not, but I will try to com- 
 pensate for the disappointment by giving you a few lines. 
 The return of a birth-day, when rightly viewed, is a sub- 
 ject for very serious meditation : I wish it may prove so 
 to you. We have seen_, in the death of your dear brother, 
 how little health and strength are to be trusted. Child 
 hood, and youth, and time, are swiftly passing onward, 
 and our journey through this vale of tears, whether 
 longer or shorter, will soon be over. Can you too early 
 learn the value and importance of time ? Will you not 
 hear the counsel of a father, and meditate on those things 
 which belong to your everlasting peace ? You have an 
 immortal soul, to be lost or saved for ever. You have an 
 understanding, to distinguish between good and evil. 
 You are therefore a responsible being, who must render 
 
LETTERS ON THESE OCCASIONS. 63 
 
 an account of tlie deeds done in the body, whether they 
 be good or whether they be evil. Childhood is the period 
 when the character and habits of the future man are 
 formed. Trifle not, therefore, with your childish days. 
 Set a firm and valuable example to your younger brother : 
 hewill more or less imitate your ways and dispositions, 
 be they better or worse. Eemember ! the eye of God is 
 upon you in every place. Be where you will, you may 
 always say, with Hagar in the wilderness, " Thou God 
 seest me." I have of late known but little, too little, of 
 your state of mind, and your views *of things temporal 
 and spiritual. I have had occasional uneasiness on this 
 subject. You ought ever to be putting forth the energies 
 of your mind in every proper and possible way. It is 
 time that your attention should be drawn to your future 
 station in life, whatever Providence may design it to be. 
 Every day and every hour should bare witness to some 
 progress and improvement in useful learning ; and above 
 all, in that knowledge which maketh wise unto salvation. 
 You have on all subjects much to learn, and it will not 
 be acquired without much labour, and firm determination 
 of mind and talent to the acquirement. What may be 
 the inclination of your own mind as to business, profession, 
 or occupation, I know not : but I wish you most seri- 
 ously to take this subject into deliberate consideration, 
 and let me in due time know the result, that I may give 
 you counsel and advice. In the mean time, a thirst for 
 useful knowledge, and a laborious attention to its attain- 
 ment, will best evidence your fitness for that state of life 
 unto which it may please God to call you. But you can 
 do nothing well without faith and prayer, — without much 
 anxious reading of the Holy Scriptures. This reminds 
 me of your dear brother Wilberforce. He left upon 
 record amongst you all, his testimony to the value and 
 necessity of reading the word of God ; and it is my heart's 
 desire and prayer that all my loved children may follow 
 
64. KEEPING OF BIBTII-DAYS; WITH 
 
 his example and his dying exhortations. The season of 
 the year is fast advancing which brings all the affections 
 and solemnities of his latter end to view. Every day of 
 the approaching fortnight brings to remembrance the 
 various events of his last days. They are all indelibly 
 fastened on my heart's memory ; they live, glow, and 
 burn there with a vividness of impression, of which none 
 can be aware, and form a daily part of my very self. 
 But I refer to them now for my dear Legh's sake. I 
 have lost my two eldest boys, and I am deeply solicitous 
 that those who reiftain to me should be devoted to God ; 
 and, if spared, become the prop and solace of my advan- 
 cing years. It is indeed time, my Legh, that you should 
 feel the importance of such considerations. You were 
 named Serle, after one of the most holy and excellent 
 men with whom I ^ver was acquainted. Mere Christian 
 names can confer no grace ; but I may be permitted to 
 wish, and hope, and pray, that you may, by divine grace, 
 resemble him, and follow him as he followed Christ. 
 ''The Christian Eemembrancer," "The Horce Solitarise," 
 '' The Christian Parent," and many other admirable books, 
 bear testimony of his piety and talents : '' He being dead, 
 yet speaketh." And now my child, may every blessing 
 attend you, for this world and the next, for time and for 
 eternity. May the return of this birth-day remind you 
 of many an important duty and principle. Look into 
 the real state of your heart, and never be afraid or asha- 
 med to make me acquainted with it. " The end of all 
 things is at hand, be ye therefore sober, and watch unto 
 prayer." The heart that now loves and watches over 
 you on earth, may ere long, and must in time, become 
 cold in the grave : but seek him who never dieth, and 
 his love which never decay eth, and all shall be well with 
 you, here and hereafter. So counsels and prays 
 
 Your affectionate Father, 
 
 Legh Eichmond." 
 
LETTERS ON THESE OCCASIONS. 65 
 
 I have mentioned Mr. E's correspondence with liis 
 mother on his own birth-day. After her decease he wrote 
 the following letter to his eldest daughter, who was united 
 to an excellent and valuable minister of the established 
 church of Scotland : — 
 
 ''My VERY DEAR DAUGHTER, 
 
 " Through* many a returning year I wrote to my dear 
 and venerated mother on my birth-day. She is gone to 
 her rest, and I can only communicate with her in grate- 
 ful recollection and hopeful anticipation. To whom cai^ 
 I now address myself with more propriety and love on 
 such an occasion, than to my absent, distant, but much- 
 loved child. — My child, so mercifully restored to health, 
 after so severe an illness and so much danger, my thoughts 
 and prayers have been unceasing respecting you. I have 
 endeavoured patiently to wait upon the Lord, and he 
 hath heard my prayer. I have viewed this trying dispen- 
 sation as sent of God for some great and good purpose to 
 your own and to all our souls ; and I trust we shall find 
 it so. You will have to learn to glorify God in the fires, '^ 
 and magnify the God of your salvation ; to see the pre- 
 carious tenure of human life, and to devote your restored 
 powers of mind and body to him from whom you have 
 
 received both. Oh, my dear M , what a God he is, 
 
 and what a redemption he has wrought for sinners ! See, 
 in your own recent trial an emblem of Christ's love ; — 
 yourself a brand plucked from the burning, — saved, yet 
 so as by fire, — raised from weakness to strength, tempest- 
 tossed and afflicted, yet preserved, — cast down, but not 
 destroyed. It is the heart's desire and prayer to God of 
 your father, on his birth-day, that all these things may 
 work together for your good, temporal and spiritual. It 
 is a day which I always contemplate with much tender 
 
 * Mrs. M. had been suffering from an accident by fire. 
 6* 
 
66 CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 affection, and my thoughts are such as I cannot utte 
 Life, death, and eternity, spread a vision before me, anu 
 I meditate with solemnity and deep humiliation. I have 
 lived now more than half a century. On the past I look 
 with much repentance for my sins, and much gratitude 
 for my mercies. Of the future I know nothing, except 
 that my times are in God's hand, and tliat is enough. 
 But my responsibilities make me often tremble. They 
 rise like mountains before me : but I lift up my eyes to 
 the hills from whence cometh my health, and the moun- 
 tains of difficulty become plains, and the rough places 
 smooth. Amongst my mercies I feel peculiarly thankful 
 for the union of my dear child with such a man and such 
 
 a minister as Mr. M . This doubly endears Scotland 
 
 to my heart. I have formed many valuable friendships, 
 and received many kind favours from its inhabitants. I 
 have delighted in its scenery, and tasted many excellent 
 fruits of its piety : but to have a daughter placed in the 
 midst of Scotia's hills and plains renders the land pecu- 
 liarly interesting to me. 
 
 May every day add to your strength and comfort. 
 May you and I, not only as parent and child, but as 
 fellow-pilgrims on the road to Zion, walk lovingly, con- 
 genially, and safely, to the end of our journey. I hope, 
 if God spare me, to see you in the spring, but whether 
 here or there, I am ever 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 From the amusement of leisure hours, and the returns 
 of the birth-day memorials, I pass on to notice my 
 friend's care and extreme anxiety to keep his young 
 people from dangerous associates. To choose suitable 
 companions is not less difficult to a Christian parent than 
 to provide useful recreations for them. The peculiar 
 talents of Mr. Eichmond enabled him to supply abundant 
 
CHOICE OP COMPANIONS. 67 
 
 materials for the employment of leisure hours ; and his 
 strong affection for his children rendered that a pleasure, 
 which to many would have been an irksome duty. He 
 made himself not only a profitable but a suitable and 
 interesting companion to them. They felt no discontent 
 at the strict exclusion of other intimacies ; to which there 
 was but one exception, in the son of a gentleman in his 
 parish, who studied under the same tutor, and who was 
 ever admitted with affectionate esteem and confidence 
 into his family party. Probably Mr. E's. marked anxiety 
 on this point may be traced, in part, to the unhappy 
 career of his eldest son ; on whom he had witnessed the 
 effect of bad influence in a corrupt associate. So inflexi- 
 bly did he adhere to his rule, that he allowed no inter- 
 course whatever with other families, except under his 
 own watchful eye and diligent superintendence. He 
 even declined invitations from personal relatives whom 
 he dearly loved, and with whom he himself kept np a 
 friendly correspondence. It was his fixed resolve to 
 sacrifice all considerations of interest, and even courtesy, 
 although he might thereby expose himself to censure 
 and misapprehension — rather than expose his children 
 to an influence which he feared might be injurious to 
 them. And even when some of them were nearly grown 
 up, he exercised the same vigilance, and regarded with 
 suspicion every circumstance from which he apprehended 
 possible injury. 
 
 He used to say — ''My dear friends and relations are 
 amiable and highly respectable. I have great reason to 
 be grateful for their kind intentions and good ofl&ces; 
 but I cannot tell what my children may meet with in a 
 style of life so different from mine. One fatal hour may 
 undo years of instruction, and give me endless perplexity. 
 I have suffered enough from sending a child from home." 
 
 His sentiments on this subject are expressed in the 
 following letter to Mrs. E. ; who had asked his advice 
 
^8 CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 before she consented to allow one of his da"aarliters to 
 
 o 
 
 accompany a lady of great respectability and undoubted 
 piety, into Devon, to spend the winter there. It was 
 not improper that Mrs. E. should wish her children to 
 see something of the world and be gradually accustomed 
 to act for themselves ; and the character of the protector 
 and companion was a sufficient guarantee against evil 
 contact. Our friend was at that time in Scotland, from 
 whence he replied to the application : — 
 
 " My deak love, 
 ''In common with my own parents I have ever had 
 strong — very strong objections to allowing my children 
 to visit any where withoat one of their parents; and 
 through life I have seen and lamented endless evils 
 arising from the want of superintendence, and the 
 absence of those who are most concerned in guarding 
 against the mischief of association with other fiimilies. 
 As a general rule, therefore, I have always objected to 
 it, from conscientious motives. Yet there may be excep- 
 tions, and I readily admit that the case in question may 
 
 be one of them I wish to make home the grand centre 
 
 of attraction, affection, and comfort. You know from 
 this year's experience how ready I am to give our girls 
 the advantage of seeing life : but I cannot think that the 
 withdrawing the parent's eye would increase the advan- 
 tages of a journey. Never is that eye and ear so neces- 
 sary as at such an age. I would infinitely rather 
 undertake the responsibility attached to those possible 
 and contingent evils, which might occur under the 
 vigilant and tender superintendence of parents, than of 
 those which might arise from the connexions and habits 
 formed when that restraint is withdrawn. I perfectly 
 accord with you in wishing our dear children to gain 
 advantages from associating with our various Christian 
 friends, and am acting daily on your own ideas. But 
 
CHOICE OF COMPANIOKS. 69 
 
 I see more and more daily, liow exceedingly desirable 
 my own presence is, and that continually. But "when 
 the will of God is expressed in regard to health, &c. 
 and the path of duty is thereby clearly pointed out to 
 me, you must not suppose me to be either indifferent or 
 positive. At the same time I see mountains of difficulty 
 in deciding, amidst numerous requests, — which to accept, 
 and which to refuse. 
 
 "I approve your plan for Wilberforce — I do not 
 oppose your wishes for Mary — I only pause — but I 
 much admire your sentiments, and taking both body 
 and mind into consideration, hope it may be the will of 
 God. 
 
 "Farewell, dear love. Cherish a comfortable spirit, 
 — do not mistrust God, — let not your soul be disquieted 
 within you, — look kindly on providences, and hopefully 
 on events, and ever regard me as 
 
 Your faithful 
 
 Legh." 
 
 Some of Mr. E.'s best friends have disapproved the 
 degree of restraint which he judged it right to impose on 
 his children. They have blamed him for interdicting the 
 usual freedom of intercourse with families whose conduct 
 and principles he approved. It is possible that his feel- 
 ings were morbidly acute on occasions ; and his extreme 
 anxiety for the spiritual welfare of his family often 
 proved injurious to himself; for he sometimes passed a 
 sleepless night, in expectation of an ordinary visit on the 
 morrow. Such was his vigilance, that if a friend intro- 
 duced his son under circumstances of common courtesy, 
 he appeared restless and uneasy if the young people 
 were left together without superintendence, even for a 
 few moments. Other persons might also have taken 
 advantage of an extensive popularity to benefit their 
 families, but he never could be prevailed on to use a fair 
 
70 CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 opportunity of bringing them forward to notice, to 
 advance their temporal welfare. 
 
 " I cannot endure," he used to say, '' even to seem to 
 make my religious influence a stepping-stone to promo- 
 tion for me or mine." 
 
 Whatever may be thought of my friend's judgment, it 
 is impossible not to respect, admire, and love the holy 
 integrity, the perfect simplicity and oneness of object in 
 the man of God ; and I cannot doubt that his purity of 
 motive has been recorded in heaven, and will be owned 
 on earth after many days. Whatever worldly advan- 
 tages, supposed or real, may have been lost to his family 
 from the steady application of religious principle, how- 
 ever pushed to an extreme, an abundant compensation 
 will be made by that Being whose blessing invariably 
 attends a faithful adherence to the dictates of conscience, 
 and who hath promised, " Him that honoureth me I will 
 lionour." 
 
 "My dear M — 
 "We have had a very prosperous journey thus far. 
 
 I am passing a few comfortable days with at this 
 
 place. But, alas ! this is a town in which, speaking of 
 our own church, religion is little known. The inhabit- 
 ants of all ranks think of nothing but folly, vanity, and 
 dissipation : their evenings are spent in the unprofitable 
 anxieties of the card-table, the ensnaring amusement of 
 dancing, or the delusions and temptations of the play- 
 house ; their mornings in idle gossippings and waste of 
 time. When I see these things, I feel satisfied that I 
 have kept my dear children from such scenes, and such 
 companions. Oh I how lamentable to contemplate a 
 great town full of inhabitants, — gentry, clergy, manu- 
 facturers, tradesmen, &c. — living almost without God in 
 the world ; error preached from the pulpits ; no care for 
 the souls of the people ; no family prayer in the houses ; 
 
CUOICE OF COMPANIONS. 71 
 
 no zeal for religion, -anlesS; perhaps it be now and tlien 
 excited to abuse and ridicule all those who have any real 
 love for Grod and their souls. 
 
 " May my dear child be preserved from the defilements 
 of a vain, dangerous, and destroying world. You know 
 not, and I wish you never may know, its snares and cor- 
 ruptions. I was greatly affected in conversing with a 
 
 family at , upon the marriage of their daughter, 
 
 under the following circumstances : The Father was an 
 exemplary clergyman, the mother a most pious woman : 
 they had brought up a family with strict attention to 
 religious precepts and principles, and they were not 
 without hope that their daughter had some piety. 
 
 '' A young man of property, but of no decided reli- 
 gious principle, became acquainted with her. Inattentive 
 to the affectionate duties which she owed to her excellent 
 parents, their feelings, and their advice, she suffered her 
 mind to be led away into an attachment towards this 
 young man. The parents were aware that his general 
 habits and views would be uncongenial to their wishes 
 for a daughter's spiritual welfare, and therefore objected. 
 However, the daughter so far obtained her wishes, that a 
 very reluctant consent was given to the marriage. The 
 daughter, gradually led away into worldly company and 
 amusements, has given up even the outward profession 
 of religion, and now lives as the world lives. Yet she is 
 not happy; and her parents are very unhappy. The 
 daughter cannot help remembering the example, the 
 exhortations, the prayers, the solicitudes, and the tears 
 of her parents ; but it is only with remorse, which she 
 strives to drown in worldly company and carnal amuse- 
 ments. They wept over the case with me, which pre- 
 sents a proof of the sad consequences of young people 
 giving way to hasty impressions, and yielding to con- 
 nexions not founded on a regard to the honour of God, 
 gratitude to parents, and consistency with a religious 
 
72 CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 profession. How needful is it tliat Christian parents, 
 and Christian children, should be firm and conscientious 
 in the important duty of encouraging connexions for life 
 only on Christian principles! "What distress* to families, 
 and what decays of hopeful character have resulted from 
 
 a deficiency on this point ! Let me warn my dear M 
 
 against that unbecoming levity, with which many young 
 "people treat these subjects. Evil communications cor- 
 rupt good manners, very especially in this matter. The 
 love of Christ is the only safe ground of all motives, and 
 of all conduct. Where this is established, all is well. 
 The life-blood of Christianity then circulates through 
 every vein of the soul ; and health, strength, and purity 
 of mind is the happy result. Fall down upon your 
 
 knees before God, my M , praying that he would 
 
 pour that love into your heart, till it become a constrain- 
 ing principle for the government of your thoughts and 
 actions. This is the only remedy for all the diseases of 
 the soul. 
 
 "Beware of pride and self-conceit; of fretful tempers 
 and discontent. Learn to quell impatience and obstinacy. 
 Let your first, your very first delight be, in serving 
 God by serving your parents. Eeckon not on youth, or 
 long life. Devote yourself to active usefulness in the 
 family, and in the parish. Show forth the principles in 
 which you have been educated, by a practical exhibition 
 of them in your conduct. But who is sufficient unto 
 these things? Christ! Without him you can do no- 
 thing : no, not so much as think a good thought. But 
 you can do all things through Christ strengthening you. 
 He is the sufficiency of all his people. By faith in him 
 you obtain power to perform duty. " By grace are ye 
 saved, and that not of yourselves ; not of works, lest 
 any one should boast." Could works save us, we might 
 boast, and heaven would be full of boasters. But, no, 
 
PARENTAL A D M O N I T I O In S. 73 
 
 no, no; tlie song of the saints is, ''Not unto ns, not 
 unto us, but unto tliy name be all the glory." • 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 Legii EicnMo:N"D." 
 
 We subjoin some parental admonitions, and a series 
 of important remarks, for the regulation of female 
 conduct. 
 
 ''My dear M , 
 
 *' I leave you, in much love, a few fatherly hints, 
 
 1. Be constant in private prayer. 
 
 2. Be wise in the choice of books ; shun everything 
 of the romance and novel kind! and even in poetry, 
 keep to what is useful and instructive, as well as 
 pleasant. 
 
 3. In company, show that the principles of your 
 father's house and ministry are your rule of conduct, 
 and your real delight. Be consistent ; — cheerful, but 
 not light ; conversible, but not trifling. 
 
 4. Keep ever in view, that you are supporting my 
 character and credit, as Avell as your own. 
 
 6. Show a marked preference to such conversation, 
 remarks, persons, discussions, and occupations as may 
 tend to essential good. 
 
 6. Always think before you speak ; say and do nei- 
 ther hastily nor unadvisedly. 
 
 7. If any jDroposal is ever made to you, in which you 
 hesitate how to act, first say to yourself, — How would 
 God have me to act? Secondly, — What would my 
 parents have me to do, if they were here to advise 
 me? 
 
 8. Never lose sight of this : that the more public my 
 name, character, and ministry are become, the more 
 eyes and ears are turned to my children's conduct : they 
 are expected, in knowlodge and eircuinspection, in 
 
74 PARENTAL ADMONITIONS. 
 
 religion and morals, in opinions and habits, to show 
 Vhere they have been educated ; and to adorn, not only 
 tlieir own Christian profession, but their parent's prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 9. In music, prefer serious to light compositions ; and 
 in vocal, keep close to sacred words. 
 
 10. Pray much for 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 Legh EicH:NroND." 
 
 '' P. S. — I send you the following application of a 
 sermon, from Eph. v. 15, 16 : — 
 
 On circumspection of ivallc ; redemption of time: and 
 general transparency of character, 
 
 1. Adhere most scrupulously to truth ; and labour 
 to preserve the strictest integrity, simplicity, and sincerity. 
 
 2. Engage in no pursuit in which you cannot look 
 up' unto God, and say, ' Bless me in this, my Father 1 ' 
 
 8. Strive to be as kind, forbearing, and forgiving as 
 you can, both to friends and foes. 
 
 4. Never speak evil of any one, on any pretence 
 whatever. 
 
 6. Strive to recommend religion by the courtesy, 
 civility, and condescending character of your conduct. 
 
 6. Watch against irritation, positiveness, unkind 
 speaking, and anger : study and promote love. 
 
 7. Mortify lusts ; — sensuality and sloth. 
 
 8. Never allow others to speak well of you : nor espe- 
 cially yourself, to say or think anything of yourself, 
 but as poorly done. Keep down pride ; let it not be 
 indulged for a moment, but watch against it. 
 
 9. Shut out evil imaginations and angry thoughts. 
 
 10. Let it be your sole business here to prepare for 
 eternity. Cansider eyery moment of time in that vievv'. 
 
F A R E K T A L ADMONITIONS. 75 
 
 11. Eemember that you have to contend with a legion 
 of devils ; a heart full of deceit and iniquity ; and a 
 world at enmity with God. 
 
 12. Pray that you may ever rejoice in the advance- 
 ment of Christ's kingdom^ and the salvation of sinners ; 
 and labour in every Avay to promote these objects. 
 
 Prayer is the only weapon which can subdue your 
 corruptions^ and keep your evidences bright. Cultivate 
 prayer. 
 
 We add another of these edifying testimonies of pater- 
 nal solicitude and love. 
 
 '' To MY Daughters. ^ 
 
 '' With a heart full of affection, I sit down to express 
 a few sentiments and intimations of my wishes, as con- 
 nected with your conduct, in the course of any journey 
 or absence from home. I wish each of you to preserve 
 a copy of it, my dear children, and often look at it; 
 take it with you when from home, and keep it safe when 
 at home. 
 
 "Independently of my anxious wishes for your secret 
 spiritual welfare, I have much to feel on my own ac- 
 count, in point of credit and character, as connected 
 with your deportment, in every house and company into 
 which I may introduce you. I have not a doubt of your 
 general affectionate wish to speak and act rightly ; but 
 inexperience, youth, thoughtlessness, and want of more 
 acquaintance with the world carnal, and the world 
 religious, may easily occasion inconsistencies and errors, 
 which might be injurious to your own, as well as to my 
 comfort and credit. Accept, therefore, a father's bless- 
 ings and prayers, with a father's chapter of admoni- 
 tions and explanations. 
 
 "You are not unaware that my name and character 
 have acquired much publicity;— that I avowedly be- 
 
76 PAEENTAL ADMONITIOKS. 
 
 long to a class of Christian ministers who profess, for 
 Christ's and their soul's sakes, to live separate from the 
 world ; to mamiam purer and more distinct views of the 
 scripture doctrine; and to be willing to spend and be 
 spent in behalf of the truth, as it is in Jesus. I am, 
 therefore, supposed not only to maintain a consistent 
 separation from the follies and vices of the world, its 
 pomps and vanities, but also to aim at so ruling and 
 guiding my household, that my principles may shine 
 forth in their conduct. Any want of correctness, con- 
 sistency, faithfulness, and propriety in them, will 
 always excite a mixture of censure, surprise, and con- 
 cern, as it reorards me. The friends of relicrion will 
 grieve, and those who are otherwise will rejoice, if you 
 could be drawn into compliances, and expressions of 
 sentiment, at variance with your father's : always, 
 therefore, keep in remembrance, whether you are in 
 company with decidedly religious and consistent Chris- 
 tians, or with those who are only partially so, or with 
 those who are unhappily not so at all, — that you have 
 not only your own peace of conscience to maintain, but 
 the estimation and honour of your parent also.* 
 
 " Many temptations will occur, to induce you to yield 
 and conform to habits and principles, the very reverse 
 of those which you hear me supporting, both in the 
 pulpit and the parlour. Be not ashamed of firmly, 
 though modestly, in such cases, resisting them. State 
 what your principles and mine are, and heed not the 
 momentary unpleasantness of appearing singular, when 
 conscience and duty require it. You may easily say, 
 ^My father does not approve of such and such things, 
 
 • Should any ono think thoro is too prominent a regard expressed for 
 his own reputation, in the advice and admonition ho gives his children; 
 let such an objector compare Mr. Richmond's feelings with those of the 
 Apostle, in adverting to the conduct of his spiritual children ;—" Lest 
 when I come again, my God will humble me amongst you; and I should bewail 
 many who have sinned already," Ac- 2 Cor. xii. 21. 
 
PAPwENTAL ADMONITIONS. 77 
 
 neither can I.' JSTo person wliose estimation is worth 
 having, will think the worse of you, for such instances 
 of mild, but decisive firmness ; and without it, I should 
 be disgraced. 
 
 ^' All descriptions of public amusements ; novels ; pop- 
 ular, amorous poems ; plays, songs, vanities, and finery ; 
 and all the sad tribe of poisonous and dangerous pur- 
 suits should be regulated by this principle. And, oh! 
 that your own simplicity and love to Christ may never 
 give way to one sad influence of false sentiment ; even 
 amongst those whom, on other accounts, we may esteem 
 and regard. The half-religious are often more dan- 
 gerous than those who are less so ; because we are more 
 on our guard in the latter case than the former. The 
 great number of instances in which I have seen the 
 young people of religious families deeply injured in 
 their spirits and habits, by much visiting with persons 
 of different views and customs from those of their own 
 household, has made me, I confess, from pure motives 
 of conscience and prudence, very averse to much of that 
 sort of visiting in my children's case, which I know to 
 have been productive of bad consequences in others. 
 And the difficulty of drawing the line has always 
 appeared very great with my numerous friends and 
 acquaintance. Still I wish to make you happy in every 
 reasonable way; and I am glad when I can give you 
 the advantage of new scenes and company, when they 
 are of the right kind. But as, in my journeys, exten- 
 sive intercourse takes place, a great variety of characters 
 will fall in your way ; and I wish, for all your sakes, 
 that you may be provided with sober, discreet, and reli- 
 gious cautions; that the natural ardour of youth may 
 not lead you into unbecoming or sinful compliances. 
 I know many families, and you know a few, where, 
 perhaps, the parents are religious, but their young peo- 
 ple are very imperfectly, if at all so : in such cases you 
 
78 PARENTAL ADMONITION'S. 
 
 may, from equality of age, be tiirown mucli more into 
 the light, frivolous, and objectionable conversation of 
 the younger, than the more useful communication of 
 the elders of the family. Here, often, there is danger: 
 ever prefer and chose those, of whatever age, in whom 
 you think you discover holy, serious, benevolent, con- 
 sistent ways of acting and speaking. 
 
 " A young professor of religion has not in most in- 
 stances, so difficult a task to sustain, when in conversa- 
 tion with those of a decidedly religious deportment, as 
 with worldly persons, and those who can scarcely be 
 ranked as consistently serious, although often to be met 
 with in religious parties. If, however, your conscience 
 be correct, you will see more and more the duty of 
 acting and speaking aright; and you must ever pray 
 for grace to direct and govern yon. Difficulties and 
 dangers of this kind greatly multiply, when those who, 
 from ' relationship and family regard, stand very near to 
 natural love and affection, are nevertheless, in a great 
 measure, strangers to the power of true religion, and 
 therefore mingled with the world wholly, pursuing its 
 pleasures, and supporting its customs. I entreat you to 
 be much on your guard in all such cases. Decays in 
 religious feeling and conduct continually arise from this 
 source : and endanger the temporal, spiritual, and eternal 
 welfare of many a hopeful family. 
 
 " I am frequently placed in situations myself, where I 
 find it very difficult to satisfy my conscience that I am 
 doing right ; amongst people and families where real 
 religion has little or no part in their ways and conversa- 
 tion. In trying to be kind, attentive, and too compliant, 
 perhaps, to their habits, I feel that I am in great danger 
 of strengthening them in evil, and always of injuring my 
 own consistency as a Christian. 
 
 "1 will now add some remarks, placed under select 
 heads, which may make them more conspicuous, and 
 
PARENTAL ADMONITIONS. 79 
 
 better remembered; and may God render tkem useful to 
 you ! Keep them constantly with you, and let tliem be 
 read over, at least once a week. 
 
 AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 ^' Plays, balls, public concerts, cards, private dances, 
 &c. &C. 
 
 " Serious, consistent Christians, must resist these things, 
 because the dangerous spirit of the world and the ilesh 
 is in them all : they are the ' pomps and vanities of this 
 wicked world,' so solemnly renounced at baptism. To 
 be conformed to these seductive and more than frivolous 
 scenes, is to be conformed to this world, and opposed to 
 the character and precepts of Christ. They who see no 
 harm in these things are spiritually blind ; and they who 
 will not hear admonition against them, are spiritually 
 deaf. Shun, my dear girls, the pleasures of sin, and seek 
 those which are at God's right hand for evermore. You 
 cannot love both, 
 
 " Blessed be God, you have boon kept far from those 
 who make such recreations their idols, and suffer them 
 to wean their hearts from God. Never, in any conver- 
 sation, speak lightly or triflingly of these subjects, as if 
 you had not imbibed proper sentiments concerning them. 
 Ever preserve the consistency of your parental house 
 and principles. 
 
 BOOKS, 
 
 " Characters are speedily discerned by their choice of 
 books. Novels in prose I need not now forbid ; igno- 
 rant as you are of their bad tendency by experience, 
 you, I am persaadcd, trust me on that head, and Avill 
 never sacrifice time, affection, or attention to them. 
 But beware of novels in verse. Poets are more dan- 
 
80 PAEENTAL ADMONITIONS. 
 
 gerous than prose writers, when their principles are 
 bad. Were Lord Byron no better poet than he is a 
 man, he might have done little harm ; but when a bad 
 man is a good poet, and makes his good poetry the 
 vehicle of his bad sentiments, he does miscliief by 
 wholesale. Do not be ashamed of having never read 
 the fashionable poems of the day. A Christian has no 
 time, and should have no inclination for any reading 
 that has no real tendency to improve the heart. The 
 finest rule I ever met with, in regard to the choice of 
 books, is this : — ' Books are good or bad in their effects, 
 as they make us relish the word of God, the more or the 
 less, after we have read them.' There are too many 
 valuable books on a variety of subjects, which ought to 
 be read, to alloAV of time to be dedicated to unworthy 
 and useless ones. 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 ."Shun all the wretched folly and corruption of light, 
 silly, and amorous songs; on the same principle that 
 you would shun books of the same nature. Sacred 
 music is the true refuge of the Christian musician. I 
 wish your ears, your hearts, and your tongues were 
 often tuned to such melodies. The play-house, the 
 opera, and the concert-room, have deluged the world 
 with the abuses of the heavenly art of music. Music 
 was designed to lead the soul to heaven, but the corrup- 
 tion of man has greatly prevented the merciful inten- 
 tion. Do not you belong to such perverters, nor seem 
 to take pleasure in those who do. 
 
 DRESS. 
 
 "Aim in great neatness and simplicity. Shun finery 
 and show. 
 
PARENTAL A 1> M aiTITI O N S. 81 
 
 ''Be not in haste to follow new fashions. 
 
 ''Remember, that with regard to dress, Christians 
 ought to be decidedly plainer, and less showy than the 
 people of the world. I wish it to be said of the females 
 of my house. — ' "With what evident and becoming sim- 
 plicity are the daughters of Simplex ^ attired.' I refer 
 you to my last letter on that subject. 
 
 BEHAVIOUR IN COMPANY. 
 
 " Be cheerful, but not gigglers. 
 
 "Be serious, but not dull. 
 
 " Be communicative, but not forward. 
 
 "Be kind, but not servile. 
 
 "In every company support your own, and your 
 father's principles, by cautious consistency. 
 
 '' Beware of silly thoughtless speeches : although you 
 may forget them, others will not. 
 
 "Eememberl God's eye is in every place, and his 
 ear in every company. 
 
 "Beware of levity and familiarity with young men; 
 a modest reserve, without affectation, is the only safe 
 path; — grace is needfal here; ask for it; you know 
 where. 
 
 J O U R N E Y I N G S. 
 
 " Cultivate knowledge as you travel : — 
 
 "History, antiquities, — in cities, towns, churchas, 
 castles, ruins, «fec. 
 
 " Natural history, — m plants, earth, stones, minerals, 
 animals, &c. 
 
 "Picturesque taste, — ^in landscape-scenery, and all 
 its boundless combinations. 
 
 * Mr. Richmond's signature in the Christian Guardian. 
 
82 PAEENTAL ADJIONITIONS. 
 
 '• Cultivate good-humoured contentment in all tiie 
 little inconveniences incident to inns, roads, weather, &C. 
 
 "Cultivate a deep and grateful sense of the power, 
 wisdom, and goodness of Grod, in creation and provi- 
 dence, as successively, presented to your notice, from 
 place to place 
 
 "Keep diaries and memoranda of daily events, 
 places, persons, objects, conversations, sermons, public 
 meetings, beauties, wonders, and mercies, as you travel. 
 Be minute and faithful. 
 
 "Ask many questions of such as can afford useful 
 information as to what you see. 
 
 " Write your diary daily ; delays are very prejudicial. 
 You owe a diary to yourself, to your friends left at 
 home, and to your father, who gives you the pleasuro 
 and profit of the journey, 
 
 P K A Y E R. 
 
 " Strive to preserve a praying mind through the day ; 
 not only at the usual and stated periods, but every 
 where, and at all times, and in all companies. This is 
 your best preservative against error, weakness and sin. 
 
 "Always remember that you are in the midst of 
 temptations ; and never more so than when most pleased 
 with outward objects and intercourse. 
 
 " Pray and watch ; for if the spirit be willing, yet the 
 flesbiis deplorably weak. 
 
 EELIGION. 
 
 ^' Keep ever in mind, that for your own sake and for 
 my sake, you have a religious profession to sustain ; 
 and this both in serious and worldly company. Be 
 firm and consistent in them both. Many eyes and ears 
 are open to observe what my children say and do, and 
 
PARENTAL ADMONITIONS. 83 
 
 will be, wherever Ave go. Pray to be preserved from 
 errors, follies, and offences, wliicb. bring an evil name 
 upon the ways of God. You may sometimes hear 
 ridicule, prejudice, and censure assail the friends of true 
 religion ; — it ever was and will be so : but " blessed are 
 they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for 
 their's is the kingdom of heaven." Be not ashamed 
 of Christ here, and he will not be ashamed of you 
 hereafter. 
 
 ''Court and encourage serious conversation with 
 those who are truly serious and conversible; and do 
 not get into valuable company, without endeavouring to 
 improve by the intercourse permitted to you, Nothing 
 is more unbecoming than that, while one part of a 
 company is engaged in profitable and interesting con- 
 versation, another part should be trifling, giggling, 
 and talking comparative nonsense to each other. 
 
 "Ever show the interest which you take in the sub- 
 ject of schools for the poor, the distribution of tracts, the 
 Bible and Missionary Societies, and all those important 
 topics which so deeply occupy the people of God : and 
 when you can find a congenial friend, talk of heaven 
 and eternity, and your soul and your Saviour. This 
 will be as a shield to your head and your heart. 
 
 ESTIMATE OF CHARACTEES. 
 
 '' Look first for grace. Do not disesteem good peo- 
 ple on account of their foibles, or deficiencies in matters 
 of little importance. Gold, even when unpolished, is 
 far more valuable than the brightest brass. Never 
 form unfavourable opinions of religious people hastily — 
 " Charity hopeth all things." Prize those families 
 where you find constant family prayer; and suspect 
 evil and danger where it is avowedly unknown and un- 
 practised. Always remember the astonishing difference 
 
84 PARENTAL ADMONITIONS. 
 
 between the true followers of Jesus, and tlie yet uncon- 
 verted world, and prize tliem accordingly, whatever be 
 their rank in society. 
 
 " Grentility and piety form a happy union ; but 
 poverty and piety are quite as acceptable in the eyes of 
 God; and so they ought to be in ours. ISTot only are 
 the poor far more in actual number than the rich, but 
 experience proves that the proportionate number of the 
 truly serious amongst the poor is much greater than the 
 corresponding proportion of numbers amongst the rich. 
 Take 1000 poor and 100 rich ; you will probably find 
 ten of the latter serious ; but 200 of the former shall be 
 so at the same time. 
 
 " Beware of the critical hearing of sermons preached 
 by good men. It is an awful thing to be occupied in 
 balancing the merits of a preacher, instead of the de- 
 merits of yourself. Consider every opportunity of 
 hearing as a message sent you from heaven. For all the 
 sermons you have heard, you will have to render an ac 
 count at the last day. 
 
 PARENTS. 
 
 " Seek to make them happy in you. 
 
 '^ If you perceive that anything in your ways makes 
 them otherwise, you ought to have no peace until you 
 have corrected it; and if you find yourself indifferent 
 or insensible to their will and wishes, depend upon it 
 yours is a carnal, disobedient, ungrateful heart. If you 
 hve them, keep their commandments ; otherwise love 
 is a mere word in the mouth, or a notion in the fancy, 
 but not a ruling principle in the heart. They know 
 much of the world, you very little: trust them, there- 
 fore, when they differ from you and refuse compliance 
 with your desires; — they watch over you for God, and 
 are entitled to great deference and cheerful obedience. 
 
HOME. 85 
 
 You may easily sliorten tlie lives of affectionate and 
 conscientious parents, by misconduct, bad tempers, and 
 alienation from their injunctions. Let not this sin be 
 laid to your charge. 
 
 " I shall add no more at present, than that I am 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. EicnMOND." 
 
 It may be thought that a transition from seclusion to 
 an active life, and from the habits of a retired village 
 to the busy hagnts of men, is more safe when gradual 
 than when sudden; and that as young persons must 
 sooner or later be connected with the world that lies in 
 wickedness, it Avere better to accustom their minds by 
 degrees to a contact which will be afterwards unavoid- 
 able. A Christian parent will, however, feel extremely 
 jealous of the modern practice of exposing youth to a 
 prurient knowledge of evil, of removing parental super- 
 intendence at too early an age, and of allowing an unre- 
 strained freedom of association, which appears to me, 
 as it did to Mr. E. to be attended with great danger. 
 The effect of the present habits are but too obvious : 
 premature and indiscriminate intercourse, and the relax- 
 ation of former discipline, has generated a race of 
 Tyros whose chief distinction seems to be a contempt 
 for authority, and a rash and arrogant pretension to 
 superiority very unbecoming their years or station. It 
 is far better to train up a child in the ways of Grod than 
 in the maxims of the world — to be more intent on se- 
 curing for him an entrance into eternal life, than, with 
 a hope of present advantage, to put to hazard the salva- 
 tion of his immortal soul. I would apologize (if apology 
 be necessary), for dwelling on details which may appear 
 too trifling for notice, but the Christian parent, who can 
 duly estimate the 'potency of little things,' may collect 
 
86 
 
 HOME. 
 
 from them some useful hints for the regulation of his 
 own family, and with this view I insert them. 
 
 Mr. Etchmond was an early riser, and he endea- 
 voured to inspire the same activity into the minds of 
 his children. He used to read with them in his study, 
 at as early an hour as six o'clock in the morning ; and 
 as occasions arose, prayed with them in succession : he 
 was very attentive to their regularity, neatness, and 
 good manners, and he endeavoured to make the con- 
 versation at table useful and improving. Sometimes he 
 proposed a subject for discussion, and wjj^en he perceived 
 youthful spirits rising to excess, he would throw in a 
 remark to check the exuberance. No one aimed more 
 constantly to restrain the evils of the tongue in his 
 family; if ever an observation was made to the disad- 
 vantage of another, his uneasiness was apparent; slan- 
 der in any shape was distasteful to him, and he was sure 
 to say something in the way of allowance or excuse. In- 
 deed Mr. E. particularly excelled in controversial powers: 
 with a fund of good humour, he abounded in anec- 
 dote, and having a large acquaintance with science of 
 every kind, he never failed to entertain; while with a 
 soul ever intent on the glory of God, and the best inter- 
 ests of his fellow-creatures, he was under no temptation 
 to sacrifice the useful to the amusing. Table talk i? 
 seldom regarded with a proper sense of its importance 
 Servants are often on the watch to catch something foi 
 circulation, and to retail among themselves the opinions 
 which their masters have expressed in their presence . 
 the general strain of social intercourse ought therefore to 
 be regulated with a view to their improvement. Children 
 are apt to trifle, and relate all they have heard without 
 discrimination, and they need an elder to guide and give 
 a tone to their conversation; this my excellent friend 
 accomplished in a manner the most felicitous : he allowed 
 and even encouraged perfect freedom and ease ; yet every 
 
INTERCOURSE WITH SERVANTS. 67 
 
 one felt that there was an eye and an ear over every 
 thing 
 
 Innumerable mischiefs arise to children from too close 
 an intimacy with domestics ; a foundation is often laid, 
 here, for opinions and habits difficult to be afterwards 
 eradicated: not only are coarse and vulgar tastes im- 
 bibed, but vices of an appalling character are learnt, in 
 the stable or the kitchen, where ready instruments are 
 frequently found to concur in deceiving a parent, or 
 gratifying some bad propensity in the minds of children. 
 It was a point of importance in Mr. K.'s mind, that no 
 wicked person should dwell beneath his roof; his do- 
 mestics, as far as practicable, were selected from persons 
 of good principles, and they became warmly attached 
 to his family. Yet, even under these circumstances, he 
 forbade all unnecessary intercourse : there are doubt- 
 less many faithful servants, worthy of our esteem and 
 confidence, but as a general rule, intimacies of this kind 
 are productive of evil, and no good can arise from too 
 close a connection between our children and dependents. 
 Mr. E. provided each child with a separate sleeping- 
 room, thus securing a comfortable place of retirement 
 and devotion. These little sanctuaries were always 
 accessible to himself; he often visited them to leave a 
 note on the table; for while at home, as well as when 
 abroad, he kept up a correspondence with his family, 
 which he used to call his Home Mission ; and to these 
 notes he requested a reply. I have heard him explain 
 his reasons for so singular a method of instruction ; he 
 used to say, "I feel an insurmountable backwardness 
 to close personal conversation with my^ children: when 
 I begin they are silent, and it is not long before I also 
 feel tongue-tied : yet I cannot be easy without ascertain- 
 ing the effect of my instructions, and hence I have been 
 driven to use my pen, because I could not open my lips." 
 Mr. R. is not the only father who has felt and yielded to 
 
88 HOME coeeesponde:n'ce. 
 
 tills repugnance, witliout adopting liis ingenious remedy 
 for a weakness not uncommon; yet not tlie less to be 
 lamented. I am, however, disposed to estimate this 
 home-correspondence more highly than a direct personal 
 appeal. Conversation, (if it be not a contradiction so to 
 speak,) is apt to be all on one side ; but a communication 
 by letter admits of freedom and reflection, and if a reply 
 be expected, obliges an interchange of sentiments. It 
 also teaches young people to think and compose. 
 
 When circumstances required a longer epistle, as 
 when a fault needed correction, or a removal from the 
 family was about to take place, — when preparation for a 
 religious ordinance was required, or the choice of a 
 profession to be made, — on such occasions Mr. E. was 
 diffuse, earnest, particular; at other times his little 
 notes contained only an affectionate suggestion of a text 
 for meditation, or an hint to improve some event. He 
 seemed anxious that his children should have a subject, 
 to use his own phrase, " on the stocks," and a habit of 
 always employing their minds and making the best use 
 of the hours which usually run to waste, — the moments 
 and interstices of time. He used to say, " an idle mo- 
 ment is Satan's opportunity." 
 
 The reader may expect a specimen or two of those 
 short notes, which, as I have already observed, were con- 
 voyed by himself and left on the table in his children's 
 rooms, with a request for a reply within a limited time. 
 These replies formed the subjects of his prayers on their 
 behalf. 
 
 ''Deak H.. 
 ''Your text to-day shall be, "the blood of Jesus 
 Christ cleanseth from all sin." No sin is too great to be 
 pardoned; but then the soul must seek, believe, and 
 experience this mercy. There is infinite value in the 
 blood of Christ, but the believer alone enjoys the privi- 
 
HOME COERESPONDEXCE. 89 
 
 lege. " Believe on the Lord Jesus Clirist, and tliou slialt 
 be saved." This is the way, and the truth, and the life. 
 My dear child, what conld we lost sinners do, if it were 
 not for this atoning merit? Seek and you shall find. 
 Lose no time ; Christ waits to be gracious, carry your 
 heart and all its feelings to him in prayer ; and when 
 you have told him all your wants, pray for your affec- 
 tionate Father, 
 
 L. ElCHMOND." 
 
 " My dearest F. 
 
 "As I trust that it is your own and my wish, that 
 your mind should be seriously and affectionately di- 
 rected towards the greatest of all external privileges, 
 the Lord's Supper, I wish you to answer me in writing, 
 these two questions: — What are your views of the 
 nature, design, and privilege, of this sacrament? and 
 what are the real feelings of your heart at this time 
 respecting it? This communication is, and shall be, 
 quite confidential between you and your affectionate 
 Father. 
 
 ''P. S. — I trust the first Sunday in October may unite 
 as at the feast of love." 
 
 " My dear L. 
 ''I leave these few lines with you, in the hope that 
 you will reply to them while I am at Cambridge. You 
 must write, therefore, not later than by Tuesday's post. 
 I do from my heart desire to know whether you do or 
 do not, feel an anxiety about your soul's salvation. Has 
 the affecting thought, 'I must live for ever in heaven 
 or hell,' suitably impressed your mind? This black 
 border may remind you of your dear departed brother,— 
 but does his memory live in your heart for good? It is 
 time you seriously reflected on eternity, and the value 
 of your soul. You are a sinner, and without a gracious 
 
 8* 
 
90 HOME CORKESPONDENCE. 
 
 Saviour, you must perish. Do you pray, in Christ's 
 name, and that earnestly, for the pardon of your sins ? 
 May I hope that you are a penitent ? Do you think of 
 "Willy's last words to you, and of all that he so ear- 
 nestly recommended to your serious attention? Have 
 you written down his dying words, as I desired you ? 
 Be not afraid to open your mind to me. Let us have 
 an unreserved intercourse with each other. Put away 
 childish things, — imitate your brother's love of learn- 
 ing, but especially his love of the Bible, and his con- 
 stancy in the exercises of devotion. Oh ! comfort your 
 father's heart, by truly turning to God, and seeking his 
 salvation ; and may God bless you for ever and ever, 
 which is the fervent prayer of your affectionate parent, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 '' My DEAR Child, 
 "I am pleased, much pleased with your letter, the 
 more so as it contains some expressions, which inspire a 
 hope that you are beginning to think and feel seriously 
 about your soul's salvation. While I cannot but be 
 most tenderly affected by the loss of my two elder sons, 
 endeared to me by a thousand recollections, I become 
 the more anxious for the welfare of those children whom 
 God spares to me. For the last year I have gone 
 through great trials, and my health has suffered more 
 than any are aware of; but in the midst of all my sor- 
 rows, the inexpressible goodness of God has been most 
 manifest, and I trust my afflictions have been blest to 
 many. Many a rose has sprung up. around the cold 
 grave of my dear Willy, and they still blossom, and I 
 trust will continue to blossom, till they bo transplanted 
 from the spiritual garden of Turvey, into the paradise of 
 God. But can I be otherwise than anxious that my dear 
 
 K should add a flower to my domestic and parochial 
 
 shrubbery ? Are you to reach your sixteenth year, and 
 
HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 91 
 
 not internally, as well as externally, prove yourself a 
 partaker of tlie grace of God? I trust not; — but reli- 
 gion is not a matter of mere circumstantials, or even of 
 morals. It is the spiritual application of divine truth to 
 the heart, producing that devotedness to God, which dis- 
 tinguishes the true from the nominal Christian. But 
 when, how, and where does this begin ? Not until you 
 have deep, humbling, sincere, and anxious thoughts 
 about yourself, and the favour of Grod ; not until, by a 
 kind of holy violence, you feel constrained to flee to 
 Christ, as the only refuge from the wrath to come ; not 
 until prayer becomes importunate, and the study of 
 God's word a delight; not until every other consider- 
 ation yields to that infinitely important inquiry, " What 
 must I do to be saved ? " Not until the light, trifling, 
 and thoughtless child of man be converted, through 
 grace, into the serious, conscientious, and believing state 
 of the real child of God. Is this the case with you ? I 
 speak as a Christian father and minister. What are 
 your views on these important subjects? I wish my 
 child to be deeply in earnest ; life flies apace, the period 
 of the tomb advances. I have four children in eternity : 
 it is true that eight more still continue with me on earth, 
 but how long will they be here ? Which of them may 
 next be taken from me ? I think on these things with 
 deep solemnity. You tremble at the thought of a school- 
 examination, — but what is this to the examination before 
 the judgment-seat of God? Go, then, as a sinner to 
 Christ. He sends none empty away. In him and him 
 alone, there is a rich provision for all who come to him. 
 But let this coming include a surrender of all you are, 
 and all you have, to the Lord of grace and glory. Be 
 contented with nothing short of realitv in religion. 
 
 '' Whence come I ? — memory cannot say ; 
 VLh&t am I? — knowledge will not show ; — 
 Bound whither ? — ah I away — away — t 
 
92 DISCIPLINE. 
 
 Far as eternity can go ; 
 
 Thy love to win, thy wrath to flee, 
 
 Oh God I thyself my helper be." ^ 
 
 Farewell; dear cliild, and believe me; 
 
 Your truly loving Father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 Discipline is a subject of no small moment in tjae 
 education of a family. Offences must needs come, and 
 the foolishness which is bound up in the heart of a 
 child will discover itself in acts of disobedience both to 
 God and a parent. How this is to be met, controlled, 
 and subdued, has occasioned a difference of opinion be- 
 tween wise and good men. It is agreed tliat authc-nty 
 must be maintained, and that all which is sinful and 
 injurious to a child's welfare, must be firmly realited. 
 But it is not easy to avoid the two extremes of harsh- 
 ness, and a weak fondness ; — to he firm; yet kirid ; to 
 do nothing from temper, from partiality or caprice; 
 to preserve composure u.nder circumstances ol' pro- 
 vocation. 
 
 I cannot undertake to decide whether corporal chas- 
 tisement is to be inflicted or dispensed with. The 
 scripture warns us equally against severity and tindue 
 tenderness; "not to provoke to wrath, nor honoar our 
 children above God ; " on this point men must determine 
 according to the dictates of their own consciences. So 
 far I am satisfied, that there are few occasions when the 
 rod is indispensably necessary, and none which will 
 justify its use under the rufflings of temper : nor will 
 the effect be salutary, if a child does not at the time feel 
 it to be a- reluctant severity, giving more pain to the 
 offended than to the offender. Force may be the easier 
 way of settling a difference, and is probably often 
 resorted to from a wish to escape the trouble and labour 
 
DISCIPLINE. 93 
 
 of more reasonable methods of eradicating evil : bnt it 
 seldom fails to excite sinful exasperation, and induce a 
 brutish character ; and the example on the part of the 
 parent; is often found unfavourable to right dispositions 
 in the other members of the family towards each other. 
 Yet I am bound to admit, (as the result of my own ob- 
 servation,) that even severity is a less evil in its conse- 
 quences, than a weak connivance at a child's miscon- 
 duct. The parent who " never displeases his child at 
 any time," must expect to reap the fruits of his own 
 folly in the ruin of his offspring. Excessive indulgence 
 seldom fails to bring a rebuke along with it. Mr. 
 Eichmond's method of discipline was peculiar to him- 
 self; partly the effect of his own unbounded tenderness 
 and affection, but, in a great measure, of his deep and 
 extraordinary piety. He could never be justly accused 
 of a weak connivance at evil, for here he was resolute, 
 firm and inflexible ; yet he was never known to em- 
 ploy corporal chastisement. Whatever may be thought 
 of his treatment of offences, it was felt by every member 
 of his family, that nothing could make him yield, or 
 shake his resolution, — no, not for a moment. He was 
 alive to all that was wrong in principle or conduct, and 
 he never ceased to remonstrate, or to employ means to 
 reduce his child to obedience, and awaken in him a sense 
 of error. But the chief way in which he marked his 
 displeasure, was by those signs of extreme distress, 
 which penetrated the heart of the delinquent, and soft- 
 ened rebellion into regret. From the misconduct of his 
 child, he seemed to reflect on himself, as the author of 
 a corrupt being. He humbled himself before God, and 
 in prayer sought help from above : while . he kept the 
 offender at a distance, or separated him from the society 
 of his family, as one unworthy to share in their privi- 
 leges and affections. No one of his children could long 
 endure this exclusion, or bear with sullen indifference a 
 
94 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 countenance wliich silently expressed the deepest an- 
 guish. Perhaps there never was a family where the 
 reign of love suffered less interruption. The reader must 
 form his OAvn opinion of Mr. K's. mode of regulating his 
 family. He must determine for himself, how far a dis- 
 cipline of this kind is worthy of imitation, or is suitable 
 to his own circumstances. Where there exists the same 
 consistency and unity of purpose, an equal desire to 
 glorify God in all things, and a similar diligence in the 
 education of a family, I feel confident that the divine 
 blessing will crown with success the exercise of this 
 or any other discipline of a Christian parent. 
 
 Two or three other letters to his children, touching 
 both on lively and on serious topics, will appropriately 
 close this chapter. 
 
 " Sea Banlc, Ayrshire. 
 
 " My much loved F 
 
 "As you hear all the good news from Glasgow, I 
 need not repeat it. JSTow take a Scotch map, and you 
 shall see where I am. Look on the sea-coast of Ayr- 
 shire, and you see a place between Ayr and Largs, called 
 Salt Coasts. Close to this is a lovely cottage, called Sea 
 
 Bank, the residence of my friend Mr. . In the 
 
 front is a magnificent view of the sea, as far as Ireland — 
 The Firth of Clyde with its beauteous islands — Arran, 
 whose Craggy picturesque mountains tower to the sky, 
 in the wildest, highest style of romantic grandeur and 
 beauty-^- Bute, smaller, but very lovely — The Cumbraies 
 — The long peninsula of Cantyre, and over it the high 
 pvramidical mountains of Jura — The coast of Ayrshire, 
 farther than the eye can reach, and the surprising rock 
 called the Craig of Ailsa, rising up in the midst of the 
 ocean, far away from all land, and sustaining solitary 
 majesty, the almost unmolested haunt of wild birds, 
 goats, and rabbits. Yesterday there was a great storm^ 
 
LETTEKS TO HIS CIIILDIIEN. 95 
 
 and the sea raged horribly. I saw many a vessel tossed 
 about in all directions. I went down to tlie shore, and 
 stood astounded amidst roaring waves, screaming sea- 
 fowls, and whistling winds. To-day all is calm, gentle, 
 and inviting. Yesterday I saw the sublime ; to-day the 
 beautiful. I am writing at a window which commands 
 the whole view. Somehow or other I am much amused 
 with the appearance and conduct of a large flock of 
 poultry, just now parading about on the lawn beneath 
 me. There are five pea-fowls, six turkeys, twenty 
 cocks and hens* and a solitary goose from Botany Bay. 
 They walk and talk with much diversified gait and air. 
 The sober gravity of their pace, occssionally interrupted 
 by a gobble, a jump, and a snap ; the proud loftiness of 
 the peacock, sometimes expressed in solemn silence, and 
 sometimes by a very unmusical squall. The ruffling 
 vibrations of the turkey-cock's feathers, with now and 
 then a brisk advance towards his rival of the green; 
 the social grouping of the cocks and hens, contrasted 
 with the unsocial condition and march of the poor 
 unpartnered goose, who grunts dismally, and sometimes 
 turns up a doubtful sort of a side-look at me, as I sit at 
 the window, as much as to say, "Who are you?" Some- 
 times a continued silence for a space, and then a sudden 
 and universal cackling, as if they were all at once 
 tickled or frightened, or in some way excited to garru- 
 lity. All this amuses me not a little. There are also 
 two noble watch-dogs; I wish they had been at the 
 house when the robbers came. I feel much when at a 
 distance from home, — even minor sources of trouble 
 harass and disturb me, when I am so far from you. Let 
 us pray for faith and confidence in God alone. I think 
 of going to lona ; it is sacred and classic ground. May 
 every blessing attend my children ! 
 
 So prays their affectionate father. 
 
 Leg II Richmond." 
 
96 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 " Glasgow, 
 " My own dear child, 
 
 "On my return home, I found your letter, and 
 hasten to give you a few lines in reply. I tliought you 
 long in writing, and welcomed your hand with much 
 delight. Indeed, my F — — , you and I are not suffi- 
 ciently intimate in religious intercourse and correspond- 
 ence; we must become more so, and may God enable 
 us. Let us walk and talk, and sit and talk more on 
 these subjects than we have done. Time flies, events 
 are uncertain, providences, health, and life are transient 
 and mutable. I hope the ensuing winter will unite us 
 closer than ever. Winter is my domestic dependence; 
 your heart is with me in this feeling. I much regret 
 that circumstances have prevented your travelling with 
 me this year, but I hope next summer will be more 
 propitious. When I return, we will read and talk over 
 together such scenes as we mutually love, and you shall 
 hear of my interesting journey to Staffa and lona. 
 Nature, grace, history, antiquity, compassion, taste, 
 and twenty more subjects and affections all meet there. 
 I will match the festival which I gave to the poor child- 
 ren of Icolumbkill on St. Columba's day, with the 
 
 gala of Mr. . Moreover, I wrote a right noble 
 
 copy of verses for the children to sing. Mr. M. is a 
 truly valuable man. He grows daily m my estimation, 
 
 I feel much pleased at the prospect of my dear 'a 
 
 union; her tender heart is fixed, although her affec 
 tions are strongly bound to her family. Encourage and 
 elevate her spirits when you write, for her nerves are 
 delicate. It is a great question, and God, I trust, is 
 settling it for her. '^- ^- * * -- * Mr. M. is a man 
 of God, and mak^s religion and conscience the ground 
 of all he says and does. 
 
 ''Kead the life of Mrs. Isabella Graham of New 
 York Mr. M's. aunt. It will shovr you the sort of 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN". 97 
 
 piety of Mr M. and his family, all of whom are valuable 
 characters. 
 
 *' What a terrible storm you had ! The Lord rides in 
 the storm. ' He can create, and he destroy.' I hope you 
 do not forget him in the midst of agreeable society. The 
 care of a soul, its natural departures from God, its prone- 
 ness to make idols of the creature, and the extreme nar- 
 rowness of the strait gate, are subjects for our deep 
 meditation. Alas! how many among our respectable 
 and decent friends and acquaintances are still in an 
 unconverted state, strangers to the real experience of the 
 heart, and unacquainted with the love of Christ ! Care- 
 lessness and comparative insensibility ruin more souls 
 than deliberate acts of resolute iniquity. You have need 
 to be jealous over your own soul, and to watch and pray 
 that you enter not into temptation. Real piety is a very 
 different thing from mere decent profession, educational 
 propriety, and orderly conduct ; yet without it none can 
 enter the kingdom of God. Where a deep sense of guilt 
 and depravity does not exist, all else is but a mere name; 
 and it is much easier to admit this as a doctrine, than to 
 feel and act upon it as a truth. I want my children to 
 be living commentaries on my sermons and principles. 
 I long to see them adorning the gospel of Christ in all 
 things, and that from the inner man of the heart. I have 
 
 no objection to Mr.' 's being liberal and hospitable 
 
 I only lament that among the lower classes, dancing and 
 debauchery are nearly synonymous, and therefore I must 
 absent myself from such fetes. So poor dear S. W.* is 
 dead. To what trials are the best Christians for a time 
 given up. Frequently, during delirium, the most holy 
 have appeared the most wicked in thought and action. 
 But of her Christianity I cannot have a doubt, "^ "^ ^ 
 * I saw last week. * * Oh! how time flies,. 
 
 * One of his pocr parishioners. 
 
98 LETTEES TQ HIS CHILI>EEK- 
 
 generation succeeds generation, like waves on the sea ; 
 but wliither shall we float at last ? Much, much, yery 
 much goes to secure a safe entrance into the eternal har- 
 bour of peace and safety. All other s>ubjects sink into 
 insignificance when compared with this. How foolish, 
 how wicked are we in this matter I Farewell, my be- 
 loved F , much of my domestic comfort depends on 
 
 you ; love your father, for indeed he loves you. When 
 and while you can, be a prop to Ms feelings and spirits. 
 The period is now arrived when I look for the harvest 
 of filial intercourse, of which I sowed the seeds with 
 such anxiety in your infancy and childhood. May every 
 blessing be with you, in time and eternity. Seven times 
 a day I pray, and say, 'God bless my dear wife — God 
 bless my dear children — God bless my dear parishion- 
 ers — and God bless my own immortal soul' 
 
 This comes from the heart of your loving Father, 
 
 Legh Eichmond." 
 
 Extract of a letter to his daughter F. 
 
 " I saw A — — M last week • she is like no one 
 
 else ; it is a little Paradise to be where she is ; simplicity, 
 fluency, devotedness, natural talent, and gracious acquire- 
 ments at eighty-four, concentrate a kind of glory, play- 
 ing around her head and heart. Mr. has left , 
 
 there are great lamentations, but I think I see the hand 
 of God in it ; there is always danger when the minister, 
 rather than the Master, is the object of delight ; Tor such 
 religion will soon decay and dissipate. One thing, my 
 
 F , is most certain, that a great deal more than 
 
 commonly manifests itself amongst the generality of 
 rich and genteel professors, is necessary to adorn, if not 
 constitute, real, vital, saving religion^ The manners, the 
 opinions, the luxuries, the indolence, the trifling, the 
 waste of time and talents, the low standard, the fastidi- 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN" 99 
 
 ousness, the pride, and many more etceteras, stand 
 awfully in the way of religiqus attainment and progress ; 
 hence it is that in so many instances, the religion of the 
 cottage so much outstrips that of the mansion ; and that 
 we derive so much more benefit from intercourse with the 
 really sincere Christians amongst the poor, than amongst 
 the too refined, showy, luxurious, and dubious professors 
 of the higher classes. Thank God, however, there are 
 some, though few, yet delightful, specimens amongst the 
 rich ; the ' gate ' is not too strait for some of the ' camels/ 
 * * * And now allow me, with a heart full of love 
 
 and esteem for my dearly loved F , to ask whether 
 
 you have considered the subject of my last letter ; do 
 you not see, on mature examination of your own heart, 
 that religion has not done all that it ought to have done 
 in this respect for my dearest child ; has not something 
 of discontent been mingled with the lawful exercise of 
 affection ; has not Christ been in some degree robbed of 
 his love and duty in your heart of late? I entreat my 
 dear child to take tliis frank, but affectionate reproof in 
 good part." I love you so dearly, that I want to see you 
 holy, happy, and heavenly. True, deep, and unfeigned 
 piety will alone induce a right frame ; not the fretful, 
 weariedness of this world, but the mind reconciled to all 
 the dealings of the Lord, because they are Sis, and that 
 for both worlds. I gave a historical, antiquarian, eccle- 
 siastical, picturesque, mineralogical aud religious lecture 
 on lona and Staffa, to about one hundred and fifty ladies 
 and gentlemen, in the school-room at Olney last Wednes- 
 day. I spoke for two hours and a half. I produced fifty 
 illustrative pictures, and all my pebbles and other spe- 
 cimens. I did the same at Emberton. All expressed 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. R." 
 
100 LETTERS TO HIS OHILDREN. 
 
 " Turvey, Dec. 1824. 
 
 "I think, dearest F , that the plan which I 
 
 suggested will be best for your return home. Give me 
 a letter to precede you. 'Hie sumus,' quiet, comfort- 
 able, and uniform in our daily course, without many 
 striking events to diversify it by day or by night; 
 unless it be that the younger bairns are rather noisy 
 by day, and the cats in the garden outrageously so by 
 night. Mamma is detained at Bath, by the lingering 
 
 and precarious state of Mrs. C . Willy is not 
 
 materially different. My dear, my much-loved boy! 
 No one will ever know what I have inwardly under- 
 gone on his account since May last. I have no reason 
 to doubt that his mind is in a good state, but I think 
 its exercises are somewhat too dependant on the fluctu- 
 ations of his body. I entreat you, when restored to his 
 companionship, to second every wish of my heart in 
 promoting serious, devotional, and determinate piety 
 and occupation of heart. I sometimes fear that his 
 mind is too playful, too comparatively careless, in the 
 midst of carefulness. He is an invalid of too preca- 
 rious a class to trifle, or to be trifled with. Watch over 
 his besetting infirmities, and aim, without appearing to 
 intend it, to correct them. 
 
 '' Many persons, God be praised, appear at this time to 
 be under serious impressions, and the Lord's work in 
 this parish is evidently advancing. I earnestly wish to 
 see it so under my own roof, as well as in my neigh- 
 bours* cottages. Yes, my F , my own loved child, 
 
 I wish to witness more positive, decided, unequivocal 
 demonstrations of it in your own heart.* Beware of 
 substituting mere sentimentalism for vital experience ; 
 and any, however subtle, species of idolatry for the 
 simple, sincere, unsophisticated love of Jesus; — Jesus, 
 the sinner's refuge ! — Jesus the sinner's friend ! — Jesus, 
 the sinner's companion. Beware of the fascinating but 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 101 
 
 dangerous tribe of poets, fictionists, story-tellers, and 
 dramatists, whose writings steal away the heart from 
 God, secretly poison the spring of devotion, create false 
 standards of judgment and rob God of his honour. 
 Never let the ignis fatuus of genius beguile you into the 
 swamps and puddles of immorality, much less of infi- 
 delity: Hhe heart is deceitful above all things, and 
 desperately wicked : who can know it ? ' Ten thousand 
 thieves and robbers within are continually defrauding 
 God of our best affections ; they assume imposing atti- 
 tudes, array themselves in false attire, speak flattering 
 words, 'prophecy smooth things,' delude the imagina- 
 tion and darken the soul. ' Watch and pray, that ye 
 enter not into temptation.' Always keep a searching 
 experimental book in private reading, to accompany 
 the study and daily reading of the word of God. Be- 
 ware of trifling and mere gossiping conversation, even 
 with religious friends : the afore-named thieves and 
 robbers are never more active than under the plausible 
 guise of a pleasant but unprofitable intercourse with 
 those whom, on good grounds, we esteem. 
 
 " ' The time is short,' should be written on every one, 
 and everything we see. Dear Charlotte Buchanan is 
 now gone to the rest that remaineth for the people of 
 God. Do you not now feel, that had ytDu anticipated 
 so speedy a bereavement, many a thought would have 
 been cherished, many a word uttered, many a conversa- 
 tion held, more congenial with the idea of her early 
 flight from time to eternity, from the visible to the 
 invisible world ? But you know not who may go next. 
 If, then, while health may still bloom on the cheek, so 
 much consideration is due, how much more so, when 
 sickness and anticipated decay warn us, that those we 
 love may not long be with us. I deeply feel that our 
 general standard of social and domestic religion is too 
 
 low. It does not sufficiently partake of the more simple 
 
 y* 
 
102 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 and pure vitality of tlie poor man's piety. The cottage 
 outstrips the drawing-room, in the genuine characteris- 
 tics of the gospel efficacy. The religion of the one is 
 more like wine, — that of the other, wine and water in 
 various degrees of mixture. There is not only to be 
 found in the religious world, a solid, substantial, con- 
 sistent, and devoted character, but there is also what 
 may be termed a pretty genteel sort of evangelism, 
 which too well combines with the luxurious ease and 
 partial acquiescence of the world, and the flesh, not to 
 say of the devil also. But such kind of religion will not 
 prepare the soul for sickness, death, and eternity, or 
 will, at best, leave it a prey to the most fearful doubts, 
 or, still more to be feared, the delusions of false peace. 
 The way that leads to eternal life is much more narrow 
 than many of our modern professors are aware of: the 
 gate is too straight to allow all their trifling, and self- 
 will, and fastidiousness, and carnal-mindedness, to press 
 through it. The gospel is a system of self-denial; its 
 dictates teach us to strip ourselves, that we may clothe 
 others ; they leave us hungry, that we may have where- 
 with to feed others; and send us barefooted among 
 the thorns of the world,, rather than silvershod, with 
 mincing steps to walk at our ease amongst its snares. 
 When our Lord was asked, 'Are there few that 
 shall be saved?' he answered neither yes nor no; 
 but said, ^Strive to enter in at the straight gate,' and 
 this* word 'strive,' might be translated 'agonize.' Be- 
 ware of belonging to that class, which Mrs. More inge- 
 niously calls 'the borderers.' Choose whom you will 
 serve, and take care not to prefer Baal. Ask yourself 
 every night, what portion of the past day have I given 
 to God, to Christ, to devotion, to improvement, to bene- 
 volent exertion, to effectual growth in grace? Weep 
 for the deficiencies you therein discover, and pray for 
 pardon and brighter progress. We intend next Thurs- 
 
' LfiTTKRS TO HIS CHILDREN. 103 
 
 day to give a little feast to a great company of the poor 
 children of Turvey. Dear Willy will not be able this 
 year to explain the magic lantern, and talk to them 
 about * Lions and Whittingtons/ so we must try to be 
 
 optical without H will act behind the scenes, but 
 
 make no speeches. * * ^ * I bope to 
 
 hear a better account of Mrs. W , to whom present 
 
 my very affectionate regards. From my heart I wish 
 you a merry Christmas^ and a happy new year when it 
 comes, St, James explains ' merry.' (James v. 13,) so 
 does our Lord, (Luke xv. 24,) May such merry-mak- 
 ings be ours. Our love to all. Tell Mr. M to write 
 
 to Wilberforca I want correspondents who will do him 
 good, and not trifle. I am to preach two missionary 
 sermons at Cambridge on the thirteenth. Farewell, my 
 
 beloved F ; come quickly here, and be assured how 
 
 truly I am, 
 
 Your Mthful loving father, 
 
 Legh Eichmond.'* 
 
 January 6, 1825. 
 
 '*My DEAR F y 
 
 ^* Your communication is just such as I wish you 
 often and often again to repeat. Let your heart be con- 
 fidential, and you will ever find mine responsive to it. 
 ■^ * * * "^ * May no trifles ever 
 wean your affections from the unspeakably important 
 subjects of eternity. Idols are bewitching, dangerous 
 things, and steal away the heart from God. The most 
 lawful things may become idols, by fixing an unlawful 
 degree of affection upon them. One reason of the difii- 
 culties with which you meet on the subject of prayer 
 may be^ the not sufficiently looking by faith unto 
 Christ. Essential as prayer is, both as a privilege, an 
 evidence, an instrument of good, and a source of every 
 blessing; yet it is only the iu^rcessory prayer of 
 
104 LETTEES TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 Christ that can render our prayers acceptable and effi- 
 cacious, and it is only by lively faith in the great In- 
 tercessor that we can obtain a heart to pray. Thus 
 faith and pray-er act in a kind of circle in our minds, 
 and each produces, (experimentally) and is produced, 
 by the aid of the other. I am glad you like Mr. Bick- 
 ersteth's little book on prayer, — all his publications 
 are good. There are many books, as well as general 
 conversations, about religious matters, which, after all 
 do not bring home true religion to the heart. Eeligious 
 gossiping is a deceitful thing, and deceives many. How 
 many professors of religion will utter twenty flippant 
 remarks, pro or con. upon a preacher, where one will 
 lay his. remarks to heart. How many look more to the 
 vessel than to the excellency of the treasure contained 
 in it. Some people cannot relish their tea or coffee, 
 unless served in a delicate cup, with a pretty pattern 
 and a gilt edge. Let poor dear Charlotte Buchanan's 
 sudden call from time to eternity, warn us how needful 
 it is to ' die daily ; ' not to trifle with our souls, when 
 eternity may be so near ; nor to boast of the morrow, 
 when we know not what a day may bring forth. Willy 
 is anxious for your return ; he droops at present, and 
 wishes to have his dearest friends near him. * * * 
 I rejoice to find your recent meditations have opened to 
 your conscience besetting infirmities. Press forward my 
 child; let them not gain an ascendency. Beware of 
 mere sentimentalism, of satire, of fastidiousness, towards 
 persons and things. Beware of bigotry and prejudice, 
 of procrastination, of the love of fictions, of dangerous 
 though fascinating poets, &;c. * * « ^ -k: 
 I wish you, my love, to attach yourself to visiting the 
 sick, and conversing usefully with the poor; to the 
 instruction of poor children ; to religious correspondence 
 and conversation, with a few sincere friends ; and partic- 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 105 
 
 ularly strive to commence and continue spiritual conver- 
 sation with our dear "Wily- 
 
 "I lately watched the young moon declining in the 
 western sky — it shone sweetly. Sometimes a cloud shot 
 across the disk — sometimes a floating mist partially 
 obscured it, alternately it was bright again; it some- 
 times silvered the edge of the very cloud that hid it from 
 eight. At length the lower horn touched the horizon, 
 then the upper horn, and then it wholly disappeared. 
 Yenus remained to cheer the gloom. I said to myself, 
 ' There is the decline of my loved boy, and there is the 
 star of hope.' 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. KiCHMOND." 
 
 "London, June 25, 1825. 
 " Dear F. and dear H., 
 "Between the evening and morning services of this 
 day, I have a leisure hour, in which I feel as if I should 
 like to sit down and talk with you two. I miss our 
 early morning exercises much, and this for the present 
 must be the substitute on my part. I have nothing very 
 particular to recount, only that I tiave been to a few 
 places, where I was last summer with my beloved Wil- 
 berforce, and I have indulged the silent tear, as I 
 retraced incidents never again to recur. At some places, 
 where my friends remember his visits and conversations, 
 I am asked, ' How he is ? ' with interest in their man- 
 ner ; and I have to tell how he has taken his flight to 
 another and better world ; and it affects me greatly so to 
 do. I know not how it is with me, in regard to that 
 dear boy's loss, but I talk less, and think more than ever 
 about him. The fortnight preceding, and the one suc- 
 ceeding his death, are indelibly graven on my heart's 
 recollections, and sometimes overpower me, in a way of 
 which none of you have any real idea. Sometimes 
 
106 LETTEES TO HIS CHILDKEN. 
 
 my mind is strengtTiened, but at others weakened 
 by these reflections. I am s(5metimes comforted, at 
 others terrified by these exercises of mind. With 
 what liveliness do the scenes of our northern tour 
 press upon my mind: the lovely isle of Bute with 
 all its magnificent scenery, the incomparable beauties 
 of Loch Lomond and Loch Long, with their hospitable 
 friendships ; the wild loveliness of Inverary, and Loch 
 Awe : the fine views on the Firth of Clyde, with the 
 moral and intellectual characteristics of many a kind 
 friend; the steam-boats, the carts, the cars, the moun- 
 tains, all associate with him, and are endeared to me 
 beyond expression. I linger over all the spots we visited 
 together, from Loch Awe to Glasgow, Carlisle, Keswick, 
 Woodhouse, Matlock, &c. to Turvey. I love to think of 
 our private reading in my little bed-room at Rothsay; 
 his first Communion at Greenock, and then to connect all 
 with his closing days. It is my weakness, my fault, my 
 misfortune, that I cannot express more of my mind and 
 
 feelings to you both. Dear, dear H ! you are now 
 
 become the prop and stay of my declining years, think 
 much of the station in which God has placed you. My 
 first-born is a distant wanderer, and God knows when or 
 whether I shall see him again on earth. My second boy 
 is taken from me, you are my third, but now my first. 
 Be such to your two younger brothers, particularly to 
 
 L ; he needs your constant superintending care: 
 
 watch over him ; do not leave him to seek unprofitable 
 associates ; cherish the little germ of hope which God 
 has planted in my bosom concerning him; let your 
 example influence, and your kind attentions encourage 
 him in every good way ; and think much of your own 
 soul. Beware of declensions — remember the last words 
 of dear Wilberforce — live up to his advice. How my 
 heart yearns over you and all your prospects; What 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILD 11 EN. 107 
 
 are you ? What are you to be, my loved cliild ? "Write 
 to me freely, 
 
 " And my F also ; are you as much alive to spir- 
 itual things, as when you hastened to the dying bed of 
 dear Willy, — as when you wept over his coffin? My 
 child, dread all decays, and may the flame of spiritual 
 piety never grow dim amidst the mists of unworthier 
 speculations. Visit the cottages, — forsake not the poor, 
 for your Father's sake. 
 
 "I have been this morning where you might least 
 have expected to find me; but I went not from curi- 
 osity, but from a conscientious wish to know and judge 
 for myself, viz, to the Koman Catholic Chapel in Moor- 
 field, to hear high mass, I was astonished at the deco- 
 rations, and the gorgeous dresses of the bishop and 
 priests ; charmed with the exquisite beauty of the 
 music; disgusted at the ceremonial mummery of the 
 service ; and unconvinced by the bishop's eloquent 
 sermon in defence of transubstantiation. It was all 
 illusion, delusion, and collusion. The service lasted 
 near four hours. I bless God more than ever for true 
 Protestantism. I shall hear the Messiah performed to- 
 morrow. Such music I love ; it lifts my soul to heaven. 
 I am sick and disgusted with common light modern 
 songs, — they, are unfit for Christians. Oh ! what 
 music is my Willy enjoying in heaven. Shall we all 
 enjoy it with him ? The question often sinks me in the 
 dust. My dear, my most dear children ! press forward 
 to the prize of the mark of our high calling in Christ 
 Jesus. There is an immense gulf to be passed. Who 
 is sufficient for these things ? 
 
 " Say many kind and pastoral things for me to my 
 dear people at Turvey. Truly I have them in my heart. 
 — My children all, I kiss you from a distance ; believe 
 how much and how entirely I love you. 
 
 ***** 4t 
 
108 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 " P. S. — Monday.-—! am just returned from hearing 
 -• tiie Messiah. In the two grand chorusses, I thought I 
 could hear my Willy's voice, and it quite overcame me- 
 Past, present; and future, mingled in strange and affect- 
 ing combination. These feelings are sometimes too 
 much for your poor father." 
 
LIFE. 109 
 
 CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 'A man that is young in years, may be old in hours, if he have lost no 
 time.*— Bacon. 
 
 It may easily be conceived witli what anxiety Mr. E. 
 would contemplate the removal of Lis boys from the 
 paternal roof, wben their age would render it unavoida- 
 ble. The difficulty of placing young persons in suit- 
 able situations is greatly increased in the present day, 
 by the numbers who are pressing into every trade and 
 profession, and by the modern practice of excluding 
 youths from the master's family ; a practice which may 
 conduce to the comfort and convenience of the latter, 
 but which necessarily exposes the clerk and the appren- 
 tice to the worst temptations. Mr. E. knew perhaps 
 less than many other parents how to place out his 
 children to advantage. He was not wise for this, world, 
 and though few had fairer opportunities, or friends 
 more able to advise and help him, he shrunk from 
 availing himself of these advantages, to a degree which 
 we cannot approve, while we respect his delicacy and 
 paramount regard to the honour of religion. He was 
 not the ablest counsellor under such circumstances, 
 except indeed on one point, that the welfare of the soul 
 should be the governing principle in the selection of a 
 profession. He gave an unbounded liberty of choice to 
 his children, with one exception, an exception which it 
 is difficult to imagine would not equally be made by 
 every Christian parent. The profession of arms, if not 
 in itself unlawful, is so irreconcileable with the spirit 
 of a peaceable religion ; and a life of comparative idle- 
 ness, or of activity amidst the horrors of destruction, is 
 
 10 
 
110 A soldier's LIFE. 
 
 SO repugnant to tlie principles and feelings of a dis- 
 ciple, whose master came not to destroy, but to save 
 men's lives, that a right-minded man can scarcely be 
 supposed to admit a preference for it. Persons of un- 
 doubted piety have been discovered in camps, as well 
 as in the peaceful fields, but it has generally been 
 found that their knowledge of God was subsequent to 
 their choice of their profession. The Christian under an 
 actual engagement in a service, may decide ''to abide 
 in the calling wherein he is called," and honour God in 
 his vocation ; but this is a widely different determina- 
 tion from a choice made with the knowledge of peace 
 and love in Christ Jesus. 
 
 One of those events which often inspire a preference 
 for a soldier's life, I mean the show of military parade, 
 excited this inclination in Mr. Richmond's younger son. 
 To this choice Mr. R. expressed his dissent in the 
 strongest terms. " Any thing but this," said he, " any 
 thing but this — the very mention of a military life fills 
 me with horror ; I cannot bear to think of a child 
 of mine engaging in scenes of bloodshed and destruc- 
 tion. Ko consideration on earth could extort my consent. 
 It would make me really miserable." 
 
 The following letter to his daughter F is the best 
 
 transcript of his thoughts and feelings on this subject. 
 
 "I grant, dearest F , you may charge me with 
 
 the same thing in which you have often been culpable ; 
 I have no very good reason to assign for delay, and 
 therefore will rather take my share of blame, than fur- 
 nish you with a bad argument, or a bad example, as to 
 
 the duty of letter- writing I rejoice in your account 
 
 of Turvey, a spot that is always in my mind's eye, 
 when not in my sight. Dear loved parochial and 
 domestic village ! Thou art endeared to me by a thou- 
 
LETTEE TO HIS DAUGHTEE. Ill 
 
 sand considerations, both as it respects the living and 
 the dead. ' When I forget thee, let my right hand 
 forget her cunning.' No succession of time or circum- 
 stance has weaned, or ever can wean, my heart from 
 the chancel- vault. There is a young triumvirate increas- 
 ingly endeared to me, one in heaven and two on 
 earth, and their names shall be recorded together, — 
 
 "Wilberforce, Henry, and C . Dear boys! born in 
 
 the same village, companions in the same school, part- 
 ners in the same recreations, partakers of the same 
 eucharistic table, friends in every social pursuit, and 
 dare I say, heirs of the same glory ? United by the ties 
 of the same grace on earth, may they share the same 
 felicity in heaven. I am glad that your meditations 
 have been, of late, deep and important. Pray that they 
 may continue so. Life is short ; eternity is at hand ; 
 banish, therefore, all needless reserve, banish levity, 
 banish dulness, be much with Christ in prayer, and, I 
 had well nigh added, much with your father in his 
 
 study. Cultivate an interior acquaintance with H , 
 
 and do all you can with L and T . There is 
 
 something wanting amongst us, whether in family duet 
 or chorus, as to really improving and spiritual conver- 
 sation: too much worldly bustle, too much regard to 
 passing events, too much consequent alienation from 
 the one, the only thing needful. Without inquiring 
 who is the most in fault, let each of us strive to resist 
 
 the evil and cleave to the good When I think of 
 
 my boys and C , I bless God for village seclusion, 
 
 and greatly rejoice that they have been kept at a com- 
 parative distance from the evil communications which 
 corrupt good manners. The world, even in its apparently 
 harmless form, is a terrible snare to the young and unin- 
 formed mind... I before gave you my opinion on 
 
 Sunday evening walks, I have often earnestly denounced 
 them to the people, and need not add a word to you on 
 
112 RESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 tills head There ]s a subject which often hangs 
 
 heavily on my spirits, I mean my poor dear T 's 
 
 inclination for a military life. Hating war as I do from 
 my very heart ; convinced as I am of the inconsistency 
 of it with real Christianity ; and looking on the pro- 
 fession of arms as irreconcileable with the principles of 
 the gospel, I should mourn greatly if one of my boys 
 chose so cruel, and, generally speaking, so profligate a 
 line of life. I could never consent to it on conscientious 
 grounds, and therefore wish this bias for the profession 
 of arms to be discouraged. I dislike and oppose it with 
 my whole heart. May God, the God of peace, bless you, 
 my much loved F : Give a Christian message of pas- 
 toral love to ray dear flock ; I often think and pray for 
 them. Love to the boys. You know well how truly 
 and sincerely I am. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 Legh Eichmond." 
 
 The strongest desire Mr. K. ever expressed with re- 
 spect to his children was, that they might devote them- 
 selves to the service of the sanctuary. "I have no 
 concern," he used to say, "about their temporal pro- 
 vision; God will take care of that; but I should rejoice 
 to see every one of my boys actively and usefully en- 
 gaged in the church of God." His son H chose 
 
 the sacred profession, to which his father consented ; 
 but the necessity of his removal to the university 
 haunted him like a spectre. He passed many anxious 
 days and sleepless nights in anticipation of the event ; 
 and at times he seemed to be in the deepest trouble : he 
 talked and wrote continually about the possible conse- 
 quences of it. The subject seemed to absorb his 
 thoughts and depress his spirits: "What if my boy 
 should fall a victim to associations which have blasted 
 the fairest hopes of many a Christian parent. He may 
 
IlESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 113 
 
 do without learning, bat he is ruined body and soul if 
 he be not wise unto salvation." Such acute distress 
 may appear to some a sort of extravagance. It is true, 
 feelings of this order require control : but allowance 
 should be made for the overflowings of parental anxiety, 
 and the dread of a transition and revolution of habits 
 not without danger, and affording just grounds of appre- 
 hension. There are occasions in which it is difficult to 
 preserve the mind in due balance ; and when not to feel 
 deeply, implies a culpable indifference to the interests of 
 eternity, or at least a very low estimate of their para- 
 mount importance 
 
 Mr. Eichmond, as will appear from subsequent events, 
 was standing on the verge of eternity; his health and 
 spirits had been greatly shattered by the severe family 
 trials through which he had lately been made to pass ; 
 and his feelings on all subjects connected with religion 
 were wrought up to a pitch of acuteness, which ren- 
 dered unnecessary contact with the world almost insup- 
 portable. There need seldom, however, be any dread 
 of a glow of feeling that " would consume us ; " it is 
 much more to be deplored, that men can contemplate the 
 '^ exceeding weight of things which are eternal," with so 
 little emotion, and waste their chief energies on those 
 which endure only for a season, and then flee away for 
 ever. 
 
 With respect to our Universities, I am not disposed 
 to join in the unmeasured and ignorant objurgation 
 with which they have been assailed by their enemies, 
 and even by those who owe much of their eminence in 
 society to the advantages derived from them. It is 
 easy to blame, but difficult to improve: plausible 
 theories may be suggested, and the rude hand of revo- 
 lution, under the specious name of reform, may proceed 
 to experiments, which are often mischievous, and always 
 uncertain in their issue. The question is not what is 
 
 10* 
 
114 BESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 desirable, but what is practicable: how little is to be 
 expected from attempting too much, is observable in 
 the strictness of statutes, which descend even to absurd 
 minutias, compared with the feeble discipline, which 
 corrupt beings will allow to be enforced. It is indeed 
 devoutly to be wished, that a more vigilant superin- 
 tendence were exercised over the private habits of the 
 young men as to the facility of contracting debts, and 
 of admission into college after the closing of the gates ; 
 that something more of the spirit of religion were in- 
 fused into its forms; that less were left to the discre- 
 tion of " the mad age ; " and that the authority and 
 duty of the tutor should not be confined to the hours of 
 lecture. Desirable as are such improvements in college 
 discipline, I am not prepared to show how they can be 
 made, unless the minds of men were more deeply im- 
 pressed with the true end of education, the training a 
 soul for eternity ; and I shall not indulge in idle decla- 
 mation against evils which I may lament, but cannot 
 cure. The dangers incident to inexperienced youth at 
 the university, are confessedly great, but they attach to 
 all situations of their early career, and are not peculiar 
 to their residence amid these noble monuments of an- 
 cient piety and munificence. Yet a Christian parent, 
 in matriculating his son at college, will feel increasing 
 responsibility to commend him to tlie Spirit of God for 
 protection and guidance ; and to use every precaution 
 against the evil influence to which he may be exposed 
 from the corrupt examples of contemporaries, or the too 
 grealf liberty allowed to himself. I would suggest the 
 inestimable advantages to be obtained from the help 
 and superintendence of a private tutor, of an age to be 
 a companion, and of talents and piety sufiicient to make 
 him a useful guide> Such a one, intrusted with au- 
 thority to direct his pupil's conduct and studies, would 
 
ON GOING TO COLLEGE. 115 
 
 secure every thing withiil human means, which an 
 anxious parent could desire. 
 
 The last production of Mr. E's pen was a paper of 
 warnings and instructions for his son. This paper was 
 found on his table after his death, and was evidently 
 the result of his dying meditations. I deeply regret that 
 it has been lost, and that I cannot gratify the reader 
 by the valuable hints which it might have suggested. 
 The subject, however, is too important to be passed over 
 in silence, and I will venture to supply the defect by a 
 letter of my own, written under circumstances not 
 much dissimilar. 
 
 To a young friend on going to College, 
 
 "My dear young Friend, 
 
 " You request my advice on a subject which will pro- 
 bably give a direction to your whole life. I give it you 
 with the more satisfaction, because I believe you are not 
 one of those who ask counsel with a previous determi- 
 nation to follow their own judgment, and who set no 
 value on experience for which they have not paid the 
 price in their own mistai:es : but are anxiously looking 
 out for a guide, and ready to follow him. After twelve- 
 years' residence in one of our Universities, I may fairly 
 be supposed to know something both of their dangers 
 and advantages. I am aware of the temptations to 
 which you will be exposed in your new situation ; 
 yet with respect to myself, I may assert, that they 
 were by no means so great as others have represented 
 them, — fewer, and less dangerous than the after-trials 
 of manhood, or even those of my boyish days at school. 
 
 "The opportunity you now have of acquiring solid 
 learning, and of laying the foundation of all that will be 
 useful to you in life, is incalculably valuable, and it 
 shQuld be your chief concern to embrace the golden 
 
116 LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 moment with firm and steadj grasp. Accept, then, with 
 my best wishes and prayers for your welfare, the result 
 of past observation at Alma Mater. 
 
 " 1. Wherever you are, in or out of the University, 
 much will depend on the regulation of yourself. We are 
 apt to lay the blame of our indiscretions and failures on 
 our circumstances, and to suppose that we should act 
 differently under other influences ; but this is a great 
 mistake; for circumstances, though I admit they have 
 a powerful influence on our conduct, do not so much 
 form, as discover our character. Be 'lord of your own 
 mind,' and you will rise above outward trials. Try, 
 then, to understand yourself — your strong and your 
 weak points. 
 
 '^ Begin and end the day with prayer ; but content not 
 yourself with an indolent or hurried exercise of devo- 
 tion, without heart or meaning, and a cursory or irregu- 
 lar glancing at a passage of Scripture, under an idea of 
 satisfying conscience, or 'doing your duty.' Consider 
 seriously the chief end of the appointment, as the pre- 
 scribed channel of intercourse with God. Your strength, 
 success, and preservation from evil, all depend on com- 
 munion with him. Every thing will go well or ill with 
 .you, in proportion as you are brought into contact with 
 the divine Spirit. In reading the Bible (I am now speak- 
 ing of religion and its practical application to your heart 
 and conscience, and not of theology as a science and pro- 
 fession,) take a few verses, and meditate and pray over 
 them till you get the spirit and meaning of them wrought 
 into your own soul. If you do not understand a passage, 
 you may apply to a commentator for explanation ; other- 
 wise be your own expositor ; preach to your own heart, 
 and feed on the word of God amidst the aspirations of 
 prayer and praise, and heavenly thoughts, and affections. 
 Examine yourself by it, to obtain conviction of sin and 
 to discover your defects and besetments, — to judge of 
 
ON GOING TO COLLEGE. 117 
 
 your progress, and pray for uprightness and deep seri- 
 ousness. Look forward to tlie probable events of tbe 
 day, and seek grace and support, to meet trial, and 
 improve opportunity. Consider tkat you are entering 
 society with a body of sin and death, ever liable to 
 impart or receive injury, and while you carefully guard 
 against the approaches of evil, you should aim, like 
 your master, to 'go about doing good.' I think an hour 
 may be well employed in this holy exercise. At night,. 
 a shorter time may suf&ce ; for the spirits will flag, and 
 the body be wearied. The efficacy of prayer does not 
 depend on the length of time employed in acts of devo- 
 tion : God thinks of mercy, and not sacrifice, and so 
 must you. Such remarks are applicable to all persons 
 and situations ; but are more especially important to 
 one in your circumstances. You are now deprived of 
 your father's conversation, and the devotional exercises 
 of the family, and you have need to redouble your dili- 
 gence in private devotion. Kemember, then, that your 
 first and greatest trial will be in your closet ; and that if 
 you fail here, all will go wrong with you throughout the 
 day. If you rob God, to turn to Euclid or Euripides, 
 or hurry away to chapel without private prayer, be- 
 cause you have given way to sloth — other motives may 
 stimulate you to be diligent in business; but you will 
 not long continue 'fervent in spirit, serving the Lord:' 
 and if his Holy Spirit forsake you, — and he will forsake 
 you if you grieve him by neglect of the means of grace, 
 — you will fall into many inconsistencies, and in the 
 end lose all love for religion and concern for your soul, 
 and perhaps by your conduct discredit yourself even in 
 the eyes of the world. 
 
 " It is a good habit to keep some subject in mind for 
 occasional employment, — a promise, — a precept — an 
 attribute of God, on which to meditate in every vacant 
 moment. There are intervals in the course of your 
 
118 LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 college duties, when you cannot sit down to serious 
 studies. An idle moment furnishes at all times a nidus 
 for a temptation, 
 
 "2. Be very cautious in the formation of friendships. 
 Yonr religious and general improvement will be closely 
 connected w.ith the character of your associates. 
 
 "You will find me correct in dividing the young 
 men into two classes; of •which one affects to despise, 
 and the other professes to honour religion. The former 
 class comprises three sets or parties, all agreeing to live 
 without God in the world, but differing in their man- 
 ners and pursuits. The first of the three are the men 
 of family and fortune, who spend their time in amuse- 
 ment, attending as little as possible to the studies of the 
 place. For the most part they are men of profligate 
 habits, though not all equally vicious. These call them- 
 selves the gentlemen. There is another set of young 
 men who pass by the name of the scamps, who are not 
 better disposed than the former ; but who have not the 
 same means of doing mischief to themselves or others : 
 they are, however, quite as ignorant, idle, and thought- 
 less, with the addition of coarseness and vulgarity of 
 manners. To neither of these classes must you approx- 
 imate, but (to speak academically,) you must cut them 
 all. I am under no apprehension of your familiarizing 
 yourself with low company ; but a silk gown, or a gold 
 tuft, — a wish to form a high connexion, may tempt you 
 to tolerate what ought to be intolerable to you. At 
 first you may feel disgust at profane and vicious lan- 
 guage and manners. Insensibly they will excite less 
 horror. After a time you will think it enough to be 
 personally exempt from these offences — then you may 
 begin to excuse and palliate ; till at length you break 
 bounds, and assume a conduct, and avow a creed, re- 
 pugnant to your judgment, and which your heart 
 secretly condemns.- You will have no difficulty in 
 
ON GOING TO COLLEGE. 119 
 
 avoiding sucli associates ; for, unless you seek an intro- 
 duction, they will not notice you. The third party 
 which pretends to no religion, are those who are called 
 the reading men at Cambridge, and the quizzes at 
 Oxford. Their diligent application to study, and desire 
 of distinction in the university, are worthy of your 
 imitation : for you are sent to College, not merely to 
 get a degree, and barely escape rejection at last, but to 
 obtain a creditable testimony that you have profited by 
 the studies of the place : yet, while I commend the 
 industry of the characters alluded to, and their gene- 
 rally correct conduct, I do not hesitate to say, that 
 their motives and objects are not such as I could enforce 
 upon you. 
 
 ''It is possible that my advice to you may be diffe- 
 rent from that of some who nevertheless agree with me 
 
 in principle. I remember it was said to you by 
 
 'Don't look at every man not strictly religious as a 
 wild bear, and a dangerous companion.' Certainly it is, 
 not a duty to cherish morose feelings, but rather to cul- 
 tivate a sweetness of temper, and a courteous behaviour 
 towards all : and an occasional interchange of visits, 
 with those who will converse profitably on literary pur- 
 suits, cannot be objected to. Yet I wish to be more 
 explicit as to the proper degree of intercourse with those 
 who do not fear God, however creditable and desirable 
 the acquaintance may be in other respects. If you were 
 of long standing in religion, you might venture on 
 many things which you cannot now attempt with 
 safety. They might even become a duty. The firemen 
 must scale the burning roof, while the spectator of the 
 flames had better keep at. a distance. You must not 
 try how much poison your constitution will bear, or 
 risk your soul's health for the sake of any temporal 
 advantage. The world — by which I mean those who 
 are ignorant of religion, or whose hearts are not in it, — 
 
120 LETTEll TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 must ever he to the true Christian, either a cross, or a 
 snare: and when it ceases to he the one, it will invariably 
 become the other. I cannot approve of whole evenings 
 passed in company where it is -understood that God is 
 never to be referred to, and where the least observation 
 connected with eternity, creates a silence, if it does not 
 provoke a sneer, an opposition of sentiment, or a feeling 
 of distaste. To be much in society of this kind, beyond 
 the demands of duty or necessity, which you can seldom 
 plead, is surely no better than constructive treason 
 against our Lord and Saviour. If you make the expe- 
 riment, mark the effect on your own mind. If the 
 tone of religious feeling be impaired, if you grow dull 
 and heartless in devotion, be assured that something is 
 wrong in your motives, pursuits, and associations. So 
 long as you agree to live and converse as if the world 
 were every thing, and God nothing, you may be toler- 
 ated, though your professed attachment to religion be 
 'known ; or you may even be respected for qualities that 
 are amiable and estimable, and your society may afford 
 satisfaction to literary young men, who would keep 
 you at a distance if you acted consistently with your 
 profession of a purer faith, and stricter conversation 
 The old rule 'noscitur a sociis,' is a very wise and safe 
 one. Compare the conversation of your new associates, 
 if you form such, with the discussions you have heard 
 under the paternal roof; where, though the subjects 
 were not always strictly religious, yet tj|e spirit in which 
 they were treated had a tendency not only to improve 
 the mind, but in some way or other to sanctify the 
 heart. Perhaps I feel the more strongly on this subject, 
 partly from having seen many a hopeful young person 
 entirely ruined by a friendship formed on merely literary 
 grounds, and partly because I perceive a gradual break- 
 ing down of old-fashioned distinctions, to the serious 
 injury of true religion. 
 
ON GOING TO COLLEGK 121 
 
 "Your father has, I find, earnestly entreated you to 
 cast in your lot with those who, by way of reproach 
 are termed, the saints, I know more of this class than 
 he does, who must be in a degree unacquainted with 
 university habits and students ; and I would recom- 
 mend you not to identify yourself with a sect or party 
 of any kind, without careful discrimination. The 
 religion of the Bible is often a different thing from that 
 of its professed advocates; and if our hearts be right 
 with God, there will be occasions when we must stand 
 alone, I do not mean to reflect on the religious body ; 
 for whatever holiness or truth there is in the world, will 
 be found chiefly among them ; but false brethren have 
 ever crept unawares into the church of God, and have 
 done great injury to sincere and honest members of it ; 
 and there is always reason to fear that when credit and 
 interest are promoted by a profession of religion, some 
 will consent to wear our badge, who are strangers to our 
 principles. In this class you will also find the sons of 
 truly good men, introduced and noticed on the score of 
 their parents' piety. These are acquainted with the 
 theory of religion, but their hearts are far from being 
 influenced by it ; and former restraints being removed, 
 they are apt to yield to corrupt inclination ; and if they 
 even keep within the bounds of decency, (which is not 
 always the case) they gradually adopt the manners and 
 habits of the world. Some of higher pretensions to 
 piety, affect to despise both the studies and honours of 
 the university, and become mere idlers and gossips. 
 They are ready for disputation, and arrogant in main- 
 taining some peculiar view of their own, to the neglect 
 of the plain, simple, practical truths of religion. You 
 need not incur a quarrel in shunning their society. 
 Hold up the torch of real, spiritual, heart religion, and 
 these birds of the night will flee away and leave you. 
 You will also meet with a few religionists of a squeam- 
 
 11 
 
122 LET TEE TO A YOUNG. MAK 
 
 ish, fastidious spirit, wlio cannot tolerate the defects 
 of less polished, but truly honest and sincere young 
 men. Their idol is talent ; which seems to men of this 
 order to compensate for the want of piety, if it does not 
 excuse much that is wrong in principle and practice. 
 They seldom discover any vigour, or meaning, or spirit- 
 uality in their religious profession ; but dwell much on 
 gentlemanly behaviour, and a joroper compliance with the 
 world. Leaving all these, you must seek your com- 
 panions amongst those who have evidently thrown heart 
 and soul into the service of their Master; -and who pre- 
 fer a honest man with his blunders and disadvantages, 
 to those who sparkle with the splendour of superior 
 talent, but whose morbid sensibilities chill the glow of 
 real piety. 
 
 " 8. I particularly recommend you to decline break- 
 fast-parties : for even when the conversation may be 
 interesting and generally improving, there is a tempta- 
 tion to ^prolong it unreasonably, and thus to infringe 
 upon the regular hours and habits of study. 
 
 "4. "When at college, I had a great dread of loun- 
 gers. My room being near the tutor's, I was liable to 
 be pestered with triflers who came to pass away half an 
 hour in just doing nothing. To bid them leave me 
 would have been an act of incivility; to have looked 
 sour or appeared fidgetty, Avould have seemed not less 
 so ; yet repeated interruptions became at last insupport- 
 able, and I had recourse to a stratagem which I thought 
 innocent, and which was certainly very successful. I 
 entertained the man of taste with the discord of my 
 violoncello, and the man of no taste with a passage from 
 a classic. After yawning a response or two he soon left 
 me, voted me a bore, and sought more congenial society. 
 If you are hard pushed, you may make the experiment, 
 and I can promise a similar result. Security from morn- 
 ing interruptions must be obtained at any expense. 
 
ON GOING TO COLLEGE. 123 
 
 Idleness is very contagiouS; and gossipping of all kinds 
 a sad waste of time. 
 
 " 5, Eemember, (for it is an invaluable maxim) that 
 method is the soul of business, and that steady persever- 
 ance is necessary to your successful cultivation of know- 
 ledge. Let your time be duly portioned out; and every 
 thing done in its season. Let each hour have its allotted 
 employment. Kise early. Keep good hours — your 
 health and success both depend on it. Sitting up late is 
 a very bad habit. Guard against inequality and irregu- 
 larity ; if you read hard for a week, and then idle away 
 whole days in boating and riding, you will make less 
 progress than persons inferior to yourself in ability, 
 but who are steady and regular in their application. 
 Nothing is done well that is done by fits and starts. 
 
 '6. You ought not to think of degrading into the 
 class called the non-reading men, and content yourself 
 with a Pol degree, under an idle pretence of gaining 
 more general knowledge : aim at some academical dis- 
 tinction. I dare not hold out to you as a motive, the 
 love of reputation or the gratification of pride: but 
 study night and day to honour God and religion. It is 
 worth-while to labour hard to have something valuable 
 in the eyes of the world, to lay at the foot of the cross. 
 I have always admired Selden's reply, when asked how 
 a man of his attainments could lower himself by super- 
 stition, (for such his piety was miscalled) — ' You may 
 despise religion, but whatever be my attainments in 
 human learning, I do count them all but dung and 
 dross in comparison of the excellency of the knowledge 
 of Jesus Christ my Lord.' Many men will value the 
 truth, in proportion to their respect for those who pro- 
 fess it. You may find persons who cloak their indo- 
 lence or their dulness under a misapplication of some 
 text of scripture ; but be assured, the most spiritual and 
 really useful men, if not always possessed of the great- 
 
124 LETTEK TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 est talent, are those wlio have made the most of their 
 opportunities. No one's name slumbers in the Tripos ; 
 it follows him through life, and what he has been at 
 college, will help to determine his influence in many a 
 country village. When a young clergyman excites 
 attention by a serious application to his duties, it is a 
 common inquiry amongst persons who might be sup- 
 posed not to trouble themselves about such matters, 
 What degree did he take? Was he distinguished at 
 college? and he will rise or sink in their estimation 
 accordingly. There may be prejudice or mistake in 
 this, but it carries no small weight to be able to say. 
 Are they philosophers, mathematicians, or linguists ? so 
 am I. Besides, the habit of application to subjects not 
 immediately connected with religion, is a good discipline 
 of the mind, and will accustom it to correct and deep 
 thinking on religion itself. The studies of the univer- 
 sity are not, as some suppose, a mere literary trial of 
 skill, and of no further use than to fill up a space in 
 human life, or fit a man for scientific pursuits alone. 
 If you find the lectures dry, or your Latin irksome, think 
 of working for God's glory, and Christ's honour, and it 
 will infuse a vigour and a sweetness into them. I have 
 heard some good young men complain of the loss of 
 spirituality and taste for the Bible, and ascribe this 
 mischief to the absorbing^ influence of their studies ; but 
 their studies are not to blame, — it is the spirit, design 
 and end, with which they are undertaken. A man may 
 hold communion with God through any medium, or in 
 any occupation, if his heart and aim be right : he may 
 become carnal in the midst of theological pursuits, and 
 may preserve the utmost spirituality while wading 
 through the rubbish of the schools. Eemember that it 
 is not your work, but your motive, which will injure or 
 keep alive your piety 
 
 "You will be required to go to the college-chapel 
 
ON GOING TO COLLEGE. 125 
 
 morning and evening, with the exception of seven oi 
 eight times a week, when you may exercise your own 
 discretion as to attendance. I would advise you to be 
 always present. The example even of the religious young 
 men may fail you ; many of whom regard this regular 
 attendance as a waste of time. They complain of the 
 rapid and slovenly way in which the service is per- 
 formed, and that there is no devotion in chants and 
 anthems. But you have nothing to do with the offences 
 of others, or with modes of worship. It is God's house, 
 God's service. Honour both, and you shall not have to 
 bewail the unprofitableness of prayer under any circum- 
 stances or defects. I enjoy cathedral-service, — it is to 
 me truly ^votional. Men who dislike music may find 
 it less in unison with their feelings; but before it is 
 denounced as a relic of popery, it should be remembered 
 that the temple-service was still more musical, and our 
 Lord was there. He would not have sanctioned, by his 
 presence, a mode of worship which contained in it any 
 thing injurious to devotion, or inconsistent with a right 
 frame of spirit in a true worshipper. Go also to chapel 
 in proper time : I know the colleges allow their young 
 men to come in when a third of the service is over, with- 
 out a mark of absence ; a practice which (with all due 
 submission to masters and deans) gives me a painful feel- 
 ing, for it looks as if chapel attendance was considered as 
 a mere roll-call ; and it is not surprising that the juniors 
 should hurry to chapel from their beds, in a disgraceful 
 dishabille under cover of the gown or the surplice. 
 At first your motives may be suspected, but consistency 
 in this and all other things will ultimately procure 
 respect. 
 
 ^^ Never think any time mis-spent which is employed in 
 the service and presence of God. Your attendance at 
 St. Mary's, though expected, is not exacted. I have 
 
 been sorry to hear some young men of high pretensions 
 
 11* 
 
126 LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 to religion speak very contemptuously of University 
 sermons, and excuse their neglect of attending tliem on 
 tlie ground of unprofitableness. Many admirable dis- 
 courses for head and heart are delivered at that church; 
 and it is a want of sense to compare a University pulpit 
 with that of a parish. Sermons are much improved in 
 doctrine and application since my day, yet even then, I 
 seldom heard a discourse from which I could not gain 
 something useful, either in the elucidation of the t-ext, 
 or by inference and use of the preacher's material. But 
 whatever be the defect of a sermon, recollect who has 
 set you the example of honouring the appointments of 
 lawful authority in church and state, and ^' fulfilling all 
 righteousness." I would have you affiliate j|purself to 
 the habits, usages, studies, and worship of a university- 
 man, and to cultivate a spirit of modesty, regularity, 
 order, humility, and submission : as the prime duty and 
 greatest ornament of a young man in statu pu^illari, 
 whose province it is to learn, and not to teach. 
 
 " 8. You wish me to sketch out a plan of study, and 
 an orderly arrangement of your time. Much depends 
 on college-appointments; but leaving you to improve 
 or alter in reference to them, I will comply with your 
 request ; at the same time observing, that it is more easy 
 for me to dictate, than for you to execute. You have 
 need to pray for firmness and resolution; since any 
 relaxation or breach on your part, except in cases 
 of imperious necessity, will leave you resolving and 
 resolving, but never attaining to any eminence. I 
 suppose the chapel-service at eight in the morning and 
 six in the evening, hall at four, lecture at ten, with some 
 other college exercise which you must arrange as you 
 can, the amount of time will be the same. Be always at 
 your private devotions at six in the morning. I need 
 not repeat what I have already said on this subject, 
 except it be again to urge you, on no account to proceed 
 
ON" G O I ^^ G TO COLLEGE. 127 
 
 to business, till you have sought help from God, If you 
 be not inflexibly steady and regular on this point, you 
 will lose the spirit of religion, and retain only the dregs 
 of form ; amidst gods and goddesses, cubes, and squares 
 and triangles, and all the multitudinous ideas which are 
 poured into your mind. DeTOte the next hour to 
 theology ; I will give you the first year to get an 
 acquaintance with the Hebrew Bible and Greek Testa- 
 ment, till you can read both with as much ease as the 
 English version. You will need no other helps than 
 Buxtorif' s small lexicon, and Schleusner's two volumes 
 for the Testament. You are tolerably ready with the 
 grammar of each language, or I should have added 
 Simon's grammar for the Hebrew. The very few chap- 
 ters in Ghaldee will be easily mastered with Buxtorff's 
 larger grammar and lexicon. Use and observation will 
 supply a more critical knowledge of these languages 
 without any other assistance. Employ the second year 
 with Scott, for a further acquaintance with the Scrip- 
 tures. I might point out more able expositors on 
 detached portions, but you will find in him a good 
 compilation from more extensive works. You need not 
 perplex yourself with too many expositors. It would 
 be a very heavy imposition to wade through all the trash 
 and prosings which have been appended to divinity. 
 Difficulties may sometimes be cleared up by chronology, 
 geography, and parallelisms; but in most eases the 
 Bible is its own and best interpreter. For the same 
 hour in the third year, read Hartwell Home. This is 
 an invaluable book for a young man, and you must not 
 lay him aside till you have fully digested his admirable 
 compUations, to guide . you in more discursive reading 
 hereafter. College preparations will sufficiently embrace 
 the subject of evidences. Let me seriously caution 
 you against a spirit of curious metaphysical inquiry 
 into those parts of theology, which are more fit f >r age 
 
128 LETTEE TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 and experience, if indeed they are ever safe, or profit- 
 able, or intelligible. The arrogant dogmatism of some 
 religionists is intolerable, their presumption full of 
 danger, and their spirit and temper most uncliristian. 
 On many points it is best to say with Leighton, " Here 
 I choose rather to stand on the shore, and in the survey 
 of God's judgments exclaim, 'Oh the depths,' than 
 venture out . upon the fathomless abyss, from which I 
 might never return." The present is a childish dispen- 
 sation, in which* we must be content to know little, and 
 strive to do much. During the remaining half year of 
 your academical residence, spend an hour each day in 
 pulpit composition. I hope you do not intend to be a 
 copyist, or one of Dr. Trusler's disciples. Enrich your 
 sermons to the utmost with the ideas of others, wrought 
 into your own mind : but never transcribe. I am not 
 instructing you how to preach, but how to prepare 
 materials, or I should say many things in relation to the 
 ministry. Get a Bible interleaved, and note down all 
 you hear or read relating to the more important texts. 
 I began to do this at an early age, and my preaching 
 Bible now contains a mass of references to authors, trea- 
 tises, commentators, and single sermons, on most import- 
 ant questions, so that half my work is done before I 
 begin to compose. My tools are at hand, and I have no 
 need to hunt for them. You will find some useful hints 
 in Claude's Essays on the Framework of a Sermon, and 
 in the 'Horse Homileticae,' the production of the best 
 skeleton-maker in the world. Yet remember an old 
 piece of advice, — 'NuUius addictus in verba magistri.' 
 Imitate no one, but be yourself. Your own clothes will 
 fit you best. Imitators are apt to copy defects as well 
 as beauties, and thus make themselves ridiculous: use 
 your own manner and style, that you may be sincere 
 and natural. If you are industrious you will not here- 
 after have to learn when you are required to teach. Out 
 
ON GOING TO COLLEGE. 129 
 
 of the remainder of the day, take six hours for your 
 college exercises; and try to be steady, neat, accurate, 
 and eminent in everything. You will now have spent 
 eight hours in close application ; never exceed them. 
 You may turn to music, which is a great refreshment of 
 the spirits, — to conversation or letter-writing, or what- 
 ever requires no effort of mind. Never be out of your 
 room after ten at night, and spend half an hour in devo- 
 tional exerci^s before you retire to bed. I shall not 
 . repeat what I have said on the subject of prayer, but let 
 me add one caution. You will sometimes have to lament 
 great failures ; do not on such occasions take refuge in 
 loose antinoraian notions, nor yet give way to reckless 
 ness and despondency ; if God knows you are honest, 
 and striving in all things to glorify. him, though you fall' 
 seven times a day he will raise you up again. Never 
 resolve to do nothing because you have not done every- 
 thing ; nor indeed resolve at all, but cast your troubles 
 on Christ, and set to work again with more diligence, 
 caution, and dependence. 
 
 " I have said nothing of modern literature ; you are 
 already pretty well acquainted with it, and if you can 
 find an hour for lighter reading, which does not fatigue 
 you, it may be well to enlarge your present stock : but 
 not to the neglect of other things ; because in vacations 
 you may profitably spend some time upon the historians 
 and English poets. I would have you attend, in turn, 
 the public lectures on anatomy. Chemistry, &c. ; — you 
 will not be able to read in private on these subjects, but 
 you may thus acquire a general knowledge of them, 
 which will both improve and amuse you. The divinity 
 lecture I advise you to postpone, till you have finished 
 the course of reading on that subject which I have 
 marked out for you. There is one part of my sketch 
 on which I have not been sufficiently explicit ; I mean 
 the exercise which is indispensably necessary to health. 
 
130 LETTEK TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 I have scarcely ever had a pupil to whom in this respect 
 I did not seem to be another Cassandra; whose predic- 
 tions no one one would believe. I hope you will be an 
 exception. To read yourself blind, deaf, stupid, and 
 nervous, is really a great folly, and a kind of suicide. 
 There have been many sad examples of complete failure 
 amongst students, through neglect of exercise, rather 
 than from over-mental exertion. Always take exercise 
 in the best part of the day, and at three periods,^ two 
 half-hours by yourself, and two hours with some agree- 
 able 'companion, with whom the conversation may be 
 interesting; kindred pursuits will furnish you with 
 abundant materials. 
 
 ^'9. Avoid all wine-parties, or if circumstances seem 
 to make an occasional visit in this way necessary, 
 firmly adhere to some rule as to quantity. I never took 
 more than two glasses, and this determination saved me 
 much trouble and temptation."^" Acquaintances formed 
 at these parties are transitory, and companions will soon 
 be dispersed to be heard of no more. A few endeared 
 intimacies are likely to be more durable and valuable. 
 
 "10. The university which brings together so great 
 a variety of persons, is a good school for the study of 
 character ; avail yourself of it ; by the defects of others 
 learn to correct your own, and by their virtues improve 
 yourself. You will seldom find a person who does not 
 excel you in something ; lead him to talk on his favourite 
 subject, that you may profit by his superiority. 
 
 "11. With respect to your vacations, I shall only 
 now throw out one hint ; which is, that these must be 
 equally busy periods, if you aspire to academical 
 honours. You will, indeed, be expected to relax occa- 
 sionally in family parties; still you must unceasingly 
 
 * It is hardly necessary to add that a very great revolution has taken place 
 in the public mind since the above was written, touching the use at all of 
 intoxicating liquors.— Am. Ed. 
 
OK GOING TO COLLEGE. 131 
 
 pursue your object, and attend to little else. Get up 
 your college- subjects for the next term: you cannot 
 otherwise keep pace with the lectures. 
 
 "12. "Whatever you read, always keep in mind the 
 great truths of the Bible; fact and observation will 
 strengthen and confirm them. 
 
 " 13. Never converse about religion, but in the spirit 
 of religion: be earnest, spiritual, and serious; jokes 
 and tales, and absurd associations, produce levity of 
 mind, and even hypocrisy ; be cheerful, but not light. 
 
 " 14. You may start at the amount of what I have 
 stated, but I know from experience that I have pro- 
 posed nothing which may not be achieved by steady 
 
 perseverance. Throw your whole soul, my dear , 
 
 into a preparation for a usefal, honourable, and service- 
 able life, in the most glorious of all employments, the 
 office and work of the ministry. That God may give 
 you grace, and health, and strength, to become a 
 workman that needeth not be ashamed, is the earnest 
 prayer of 
 
 Your affectionate and faithful friend." 
 
 I must apologise to the reader for detaining him so 
 long from the more immediate subject of the Family 
 Portraiture. My excuse must be the hope that this 
 letter of my own may fall into the hands of some student 
 of the university, and furnish him with useful hints to 
 regulate his conduct and studies. I am satisfied that 
 my sentiments would be found in unison with my 
 friend's, had he lived to complete his own valuable 
 directions to his son Henry. 
 
 In surveying the variety of circumstances and details 
 connected with Mr. K.'s plan of education, it seems to 
 me that two points may be added with advantage. 
 
 It has often been lamented that children and young 
 people receive so little benefit from public instruction. 
 
132 SUBJECTS OMITTED IN 
 
 Mr. Hiclimond did indeed teacli his children to pray and 
 read the scriptures ; and he wrote a form of prayer for 
 the use of each of them, until they were able to approach 
 a mercy-seat with the expression of their own thoughts 
 and desires. They had the benefit of his family exercises 
 and conversations, and he kept his eye on their behaviour 
 at church : but this is not all that is need'ful ; they 
 should be frequently examined as to what they hear, 
 and be required to give an account of every sermon ; 
 receiving reproof or commendation as they appear to 
 have been negligent or attentive. 
 
 It is important also to accustom children to separate 
 a part of their pocket-money for charitable purposes, 
 and to act in their sympathy with the necessitous, on 
 plan and system. Mr. E. was himself hospitable and 
 benevolent; he contributed largely from his slender 
 means, to the wants of his poor parishioners, and he 
 inculcated on his family the duty of unremitting atten- 
 tion to distress of every kind. But children should be 
 trained to seek out proper objects, and learn to relieve 
 them from their own means, and by the sacrifice of their 
 own gratifications. What portion of our goods ought 
 to be separated for the poor is not determined in the 
 scriptures ; the only definite rule there laid down, is, 
 "According as God hath prospered him, so let every 
 man give as he is disposed in his heart." Children, as 
 well as grown people, should be allowed opportunity to 
 exercise discretion, and evidence the sincerity of prin- 
 ciple: we cannot prescribe any fixed amount, which 
 must vary according to the circumstances of different 
 persons ; still, however, this labour of love ought to be 
 regulated by some definite principle. 
 
 From the foregoing detail of Mr. R.'s laborious and 
 conscientious care of his family, it is natural to ask 
 what was the result. Delicacy and propriety forbid me 
 to speak of the living, though I might there appeal to 
 
ME. RICHMOND'S PLAN OP EDUCATION. 133 
 
 facts whicli confiim tlie truth of that gracious promise, 
 '^ Train up a child in the way in which he should go, 
 and when he is old he shall not depart from it." 
 
 I shall, however, now endeavour to fulfil Mr. E.'s own 
 intentions, by recording the deaths of his children, who 
 died in the faith, and are gone to their rest and peace in 
 Christ Jesus. 
 
 12 
 
134 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 The storm that wrecks the wintry sky 
 No more disturbs their deep repose, 
 Than summer's evening's latest sigh 
 That shuts the rose. 
 
 MONTGOMEET. 
 
 Samuel Nugent Legh, the eldest son of Mr. Kicli- 
 mond, was born at Brading, in the Isle of Wight, June 
 18, 1798. 
 
 From his birth to the hour of his death he was the 
 child of many prayers to God, for life and salvation 
 through a crucified Kedeemer. 
 
 "My responsibilities," said Mr. E. "are greatly 
 increased by the birth of a son, and I have need of 
 wisdom to preserve this loan of the Lord, and to train 
 up an immortal soul for heaven. 
 
 The views of a Christian parent concerning his 
 offspring are not bounded by time, nor his hopes and 
 wishes limited to a present provision. Our heavenly 
 Father knoweth our wants. We must seek first the 
 kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all other 
 things will be supplied as far as is needful to our 
 welfare. 
 
 The first paper found amongst Mr. E.'s memoranda 
 relating to his son Nugent, is a letter addressed to the 
 sponsors on the occasion of his infant's reception into 
 the company of believers by the sacrament of baptism. 
 The selection of these parties is often a delicate and 
 a difficult duty to religious parents. The usages of 
 society direct our view towards kinsfolk and intimate 
 friends, and the practice is natural and proper when 
 
SPONSORSHIP. 135 
 
 sucli can be found possessing a deep sense of tlie respon- 
 sibilities of their engagement. But to be swayed prin- 
 cipally by relationship or interest in this appointment, 
 is inconsistent with Christian integrity, and is, in fact, 
 ''honouring man more than God." The church supposes 
 sponsors to be persons of real piety, a company of the 
 faithful, who agree ''as touching what they shall ask 
 of God in Christ's name " on behalf of the infant. They 
 are provided as spiritual trustees, to take care that the 
 child be virtuous brought up, and they engage for the 
 fulfilment of conditions, without which, baptism, like 
 the Lord's supper is not available for any benefit. The 
 grace of baptism is not promised to unbelievers, and 
 there are many who are such as to this act, though the 
 term may not, in general, be applicable to them. The 
 right is regarded by some merely as a compliance with 
 the forms of religion, and by others as conferring a title 
 to covenant-privileges, rather than as communicating 
 any actual benefit. But the Church of England, and, I 
 may add,' all the reformed churches, define this sacra- 
 ment to be an " outward and visible sign of an inward 
 and spiritual grace; ordained by Christ himself, as a 
 means whereby we receive the same, and a pledge to 
 assure us thereof." 
 
 To maintain that the right administration, indepen- 
 dent of the right reception of an ordinance, is effectual, 
 would be to sanction the errors of Popery ; and it would 
 be extravagant to assert that all baptized persons are 
 regenerate, since the fact is palpably against such an 
 assumption. "Whether we say with Arminius, that the 
 grace of 'baptism has been lost, or with Calvin, that 
 it has been nullified, by the non-fulfilment of engage- 
 ments: — whether by the terms regeneration, renovation, 
 or conversion be meant : the return, the confirmation, 
 or the original impartation of a divine influence, (the 
 phrase matters not,) it is most evident that those who 
 
136 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 do not "bring forth the fruits of tlie Spirit are not 
 "partakers of an inward and spiritual grace;" and it 
 becomes the ministers of religion to exhort such per- 
 sons to pray, and to seek for that change of nature, 
 without which no man can enter into the kingdom of 
 heaven. This view of the subject secures every prac- 
 tical and useful purpose, and it would be more advan- 
 tageous to men's souls to contend earnestly for the 
 faith once delivered to the saints, than to strive about 
 words to no profit. 
 
 Christian parents and sponsors would do well to 
 consider whether their own ignorance and unbelief as 
 it respects this solemn ordinance, may not have pro- 
 voked God to withhold the blessing promised "to us 
 and to our children." We know that under the law 
 the child was cut off who " had broken the covenant," 
 only by the contempt or neglect of circumcision on the 
 part of his sinful parents ; and why may not the hypo- 
 crisy of sponsors in the performance of a Christian rite, 
 be the cause of its almost general inefiicacy ? 
 
 It is an argument of no little weight in favour in 
 sponsorship, that this appendage lo Christian baptism 
 has been sanctioned by high antiquity. It is not a 
 novelty of modern times. It universally obtained in the 
 Jewish church, and was continued in the church of 
 Christ to the sixteenth century: its rejection, together 
 with that of the baptism of infants, originated with the 
 enthusiasts of Munster. I repeat the remark, sponsor 
 ship was asssociated with- baptism in the Jewish church, 
 and unless in the application of a rite long practised to 
 a new dispensation, the concomitants of that rite, "the 
 answer of a good conscience," by and for others, were 
 repealed, — (and we have no proof nor reason to suppose 
 they were repealed,) the disciples, as Jews, could not 
 interpret their commission, but in connexion with their 
 
LETTEE TO SPONSORS. 137 
 
 early associations and the constant practice of their 
 nation . 
 
 If this argument does not so firmly establish the use 
 of sponsorship as to invalidate baptism without it, 
 (which neither we nor the foreign churches maintain,) 
 it is surely sufficient to rescue the custom from the 
 ignorant contempt with which it is too often treated. 
 
 It will be seen by the following letter, that Mr. K's. 
 sentiments were in unison with what has just been 
 stated, on this interesting appendage to Christian 
 baptism. 
 
 "To the worthy Godfather and Godmother of Samuel 
 Kugent Legh Eichmond. 
 
 "Suffer the anxious feelings of a father to plead an 
 apology for addressing, petitioning, and admonishing 
 you on a subject so near, so dear to his heart, as the 
 future welfare of an infant child. I need not remind 
 you, that the institution of sponsors at the baptism of 
 every young child, is a pious precaution of the church, 
 intended to provide for, and ensure the religious educa- 
 tion of its members. With regard to the natural 
 parents of the child, they are considered as already 
 engaged under such strict bonds, both by nature and 
 religion, to take care of his spiritual welfare, that the 
 church does not suppose that she can lay them under 
 any greater; but she still makes a provision, that if, 
 notwithstanding these obligations, the parents should 
 be negligent, or if it should please God to take them to 
 himself during the infancy of their children, there may 
 yet be others who stand solemnly pledged before God 
 and his church, to see that such infants are not without 
 instruction, in consequence of such carelessness or 
 untimely death of their parents. Hence it follows, that 
 a charge of the most serious and important nature is 
 
 12* 
 
138 LIFE OF NUGENT KICHMOND, 
 
 undertaken by the spiritual parents or sponsors, who 
 are therefore called, fathers and mothers in God ; and 
 fa all matters which concern the godly instruction, 
 Christian principles, and progress in piety of their god- 
 children, they do most assuredly and unequivocally 
 become answerable for their faith and practice, so far as 
 human vigilance and endeavours are concerned. True 
 it is, if they have the satisfaction of observing that the 
 natural parents zealously, piously, and unremittingly 
 superintend the Christian education of their infant 
 charge, much of their own attentions are rendered 
 unnecessary ; — still, however, their own responsibility 
 remains unaltered by any circumstance, from the hour 
 of baptism to the years of discretion and understand- 
 ing; and it is incumbent on them to see and know that 
 all things are provided, and nothing omitted, which 
 is conductive to the soul's health of their children in 
 God. 
 
 'Having thus stated my ideas of the indispensable 
 duties of god-fathers and god-mothers in general, I am 
 naturally led to make the immediate application to the 
 present case. I hope and trust that myself and my dear 
 Mary are too deeply impressed with a sense of our duty, 
 (exclusive of" parental affection) to omit anything which 
 may tend to the Christian instruction of our young 
 ones. If, therefore, it should please the Almighty to grant 
 us life and health, I shall look forward with increasing 
 pleasure to the prospect of our child's being so educated, 
 that even those who stand solemnly pledged on the sub- 
 ject, shall have little else to do than to observe, examine, 
 and approve. At least I pray, that under God's bless- 
 ing on our endeavours, it may be so ; but, should our 
 infant be deprived of parental solicitude, and attention, 
 through death or debility of mind or body, on you, my 
 dear and much-respected friends, it will rest to provide 
 all that in your name has been vowed, promised, and 
 
LETTER TO SPONSORS. 139 
 
 professed for him. In such an event, I entreat that no 
 pains may be spared to train np my little infant in the 
 love and fear of God, in the faith of the Eedeemer, and 
 grateful love to him, and with a firm reliance on the 
 assistance of the Holy Spirit. Let the Scriptures, and 
 not the common-place morality of the times, be made 
 the ground-work of his conduct, his principles, arnd his 
 future hopes; teach him that true charity is the off- 
 spring of Christian faith, and that heavenly hope can 
 alone spring from their united dominion over his heart. 
 With such a foundation he will learn to be thankful 
 and contented in every condition of life, and under every 
 dispensation of Providence. Let him be so fortified 
 with the true armour of the Christian, that the shaft 
 of that horrid and specious monster, infidelity, may 
 ever be repelled with humble confidence and just indig- 
 nation. 
 
 " Teach him to know, that although the gospel gives 
 no encouragement, no, not even the least hope, to mo- 
 rality without faith, yet that faith without works is 
 dead : 
 
 ''That, notwithstanding our most careful obedience 
 to the commandments of the law, we are still unprofit- 
 able servants ; (the merits of the Saviour, not our own 
 merits, rendering us acceptable to God,) yet that the 
 fruits of the Spirit are to be seen in practical activity 
 in promoting the good of others, as well as in the puri 
 fication of ourselves. Let this, and every other Chris- 
 tian principle, be engrafted on his heart, gradually and 
 in due progress, with the advancement of his under- 
 standing ; so shall your weighty duties be fulfilled, and 
 my heart be at ease. 
 
 " Should the boy's life and my own be spared, it will 
 be my delight to endeavour to make him what I con- 
 sider the first of characters — a real Christian. 
 
 ^'With respect to all other parts of education, it is 
 
140 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 foreign to the purpose of this address : which is solely 
 directed to the subject of the baptismal vow, accom- 
 panied by a fond father's comments, explanations, and 
 wishes. My present fears are not lest he should be 
 poor and unlearned in what the world calls wisdom and 
 accomplishment; all must prosper in the end, if he be 
 but rich in good works, and wise unto salvation. I 
 conclude, therefore, with a blessing upon you all; and 
 if this epistle be of a more serious (and to you I Avill 
 not add tedious) description than you are accustomed to 
 receive, the best apology to be made for it is that it 
 comes from a parish priest, an affectionate father, and 
 Your faithful brother-in-law and nephew, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 It was Mr. E.'s earnest desire, that his first-born 
 child should be a minister of the Lord, and a servant 
 of the sanctuary ; and his son's course of education 
 was conducted with this view, both while he con- 
 tinued at Brading, and on his subsequent removal to 
 Turvey. 
 
 There was nothing censurable in Mr. E.'s wishes for 
 his son's introduction into the ministry ; but considering 
 the peculiar character and requirements of a minister 
 of the gospel, it may be doubted whether it would not 
 be more consistent that the designation of a young per- 
 son to that sacred profession should follow, rather than 
 precede, a discovery of fitness for it. I am not hero 
 speaking of the awful profanation of making a boy a 
 clergyman because he shows an incapacity for other 
 situations, or with a view to some worldly advancement, 
 or for the sake of literary respectability and enjoyment ; 
 such motives and practices cannot be too strongly de- 
 precated : is it not to bring the lame and the blind into 
 the temple, and to offer money for the gift of God ? In 
 such, God can have no pleasure, neither will he accept 
 
EEMARKS ON THE MINISTRY. 141 
 
 an offering at their hand. (Mai. i. 2, 12.) But I am. 
 adverting to an error, not uncommon even among 
 religious parents, of selecting the future occupation of 
 the ministry for their children, on the general grounds 
 of correct conduct and amiable dispositions. God has 
 taken into his own hands the work of the sanctuary ; 
 when He calls and separates by his Spirit, we may co- 
 operate with his purposes, and supply materials and 
 tools for his workmen; but it is seldom desirable to 
 anticipate the divine will on this head, or to forget that 
 there must be, not only a real conversion of heart to 
 God, but a peculiar aptness for the work, to justify an 
 entrance into the sacred calling. 
 
 Such was Mr. E's. judgment in after-life: and his 
 tender mind sometimes reverted to his disappointment 
 in poor Nugent's delinquencies, as a rebuke for his 
 presumption. 
 
 It appears that Mr. E. early adopted the practice of 
 corresponding with his family: and I present to the 
 reader a letter to Nugent, as a pleasing specimen of his 
 happy manner of addressing his children. 
 
 ' My dear little boy, 
 
 '' You cannot think how glad I was to see your letter ; 
 so glad that it made me weep : if you knew how dearly 
 I love you, I am sure you would dearly love me ; and 
 if you knew how dearly God loves you, you would love 
 him also. Never forget God, for he is always thinking 
 about you : do you not see how good he is to you, in 
 giving you a papa and mamma, and sisters, and friends, 
 and a house to live in, and food, and so many other good 
 things. 
 
 "I preached a sermon last Sunday to some hundreds 
 of little children, and you can hardly think how well 
 they behaved, and how silently and closely they attended 
 to what they heard. Many of them when they returned 
 
142 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 home, wrote down wliat they heard from me at chnrcli : 
 when will you do so, my dear Nugent ? I hope you get 
 
 your lesson welL for Mr. D ; how kind he is to teach 
 
 you ! I hope you pray for me every day ; I often pray 
 for yoU; and God will hear both you and me, if we pray 
 with our whole hearts. "When you have read this letter, 
 you must go and kiss M. and F. and H., and tell them 
 I bid you do so for me, because I am far away, and 
 cannot give them myself a proof of my affection for 
 them. 
 
 My Nugent, you are the eldest ; if you are a good 
 child, they may follow your example ; and if you are 
 a bad boy, it will teach them to be sinful; and that 
 will make God very angry and me very unhappy. You 
 are now every day growing older, and you ought to grow 
 wiser and better, and then you will be a comfort to us 
 all, and I shall rejoice and praise. I wish you to-morrow 
 morning to read the tenth chapter of St. Mark, and you 
 will see how Jesus Christ loved little children, and how 
 he took them up in his arms, and blessed them. I hope 
 he will bless you, and then you will go to heaven when 
 you die ; but without a blessing from Christ, you never 
 can go there. I trust I shall see you again soon. You 
 must pray to God to bring me back in health and safety. 
 I have written to you as long a letter as perhaps you 
 will like to read ; one thing only I will add, that 
 I am your truly loving Papa, 
 
 L. K." 
 
 For some years Nugent was educated at home ; being 
 seldom absent from his father's eye. Companions he 
 had none, for Mr. E. was afraid of bringing his son in 
 contact with any associations out of his own family. It 
 may be doubted how far it was wise to confine a boy to 
 his own resources for amusement; for at this time 
 Mr. K. had not provided the philosophical apparatus, by 
 
nugent's removal to school. 143 
 
 whicli he afterwards supplied his children with full 
 employment in their leisure hours : certainly the subse- 
 quent transition, from these restraints to the almost 
 unbounded freedom of association at school, proved 
 injurious to Nugent. 
 
 As Mr. K.'s public engagements increased, he found 
 it necessary to place his son under other superintend- 
 
 ance; rind he committed him to the care of ; in 
 
 this situation Nugent attached himself to a companion 
 of bad principles and incorrect conduct, who in the end 
 succeeded in perverting the victim of his confidence. It 
 became necessary to remove the bad example from the 
 family, and at last, though with great reluctance, and 
 bitter disappointment, Mr. R. consented to the advice 
 of his friends, and placed his son in a merchant- vessel, 
 All hopes of the ministry were abandoned ; and Nugent, 
 now a wanderer in the wide world, had to make his 
 own way in life. Many affecting circumstances relating 
 to this exile from his father's house, have been already 
 detailed in Mr. E.'s own memoirs, and I am obliged to 
 forego their introduction in the present narrative. 
 
 The repetition of such details is not, however, essen- 
 tial to my purpose; which is not so much to gratify 
 curiosity, as to show the great advantage of a religious 
 education, amidst the most discouraging and distressing 
 disappointments ; and that the promises of eventual 
 success, under all the oppositions of a fallen nature, and 
 the worst temptations to evil, will ultimately reward the 
 faithful and conscientious discharge of our duty towards 
 our children. 
 
 Mr. R. gave his son, on his departure from this coun- 
 try, a Bible, and a paper of admonitions and instruc- 
 tions for his conduct. Amidst all his irregularities, 
 Nugent discovered a grateful and affectionate temper. 
 His errors were evidently those of a thoughtless and 
 yielding disposition, rather thiin of a deep-rooted and 
 
144 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 vicious propensity; he sincerely loved liis father, and 
 he preserved, with a kind of religious veneration, these 
 testimonies of his regard; never losing them, though 
 twice shipwrecked, and though all the other little pro- 
 perty that he had realized was then swept away. 
 
 He was evidently deeply impressed by his parents' 
 bright example, and he kept up a regular correspondence 
 with them. Mr. E.'s letters are lost ; but some extracts 
 from those of his son will serve strongly to illustrate 
 the good effects of past instructions. It never should 
 be forgotten that there is a moral influence in Christian 
 principles, which keeps evil within certain bounds, even 
 when those principles have not penetrated the heart; 
 and bad as unconverted persons often appear, amidst all 
 the pains taken with them, they would probably be 
 much worse without the unseen restraint which thus 
 operates within them. 
 
 A lodgment of truth once made in the mind, cannot 
 afterwards be wholly eradicated. Conviction often re- 
 turns, and at last, as in the present instance, produces a 
 saving change of heart and life. Nugent was not long 
 on the mighty deep before he acknowledged the pro- 
 priety of his removal from home, and began deeply to 
 repent of the follies which rendered it necessary, 
 
 "My dear Father and Mother, 
 
 " I am now, as it may be said, at the other end of the 
 world, but still I often think of you and Turvey. I 
 often reflect on my past conduct, and bitterly bewail 
 my folly ; if I had not done what I ought not to have 
 done, T might now be resting comfortably under your 
 roof, instead of having to bear very great hardships by 
 night and by day ; but I will not complain of my chas- 
 tisement, and have indeed far greater comforts than I 
 deserve. 
 
 « Papa, I am far away, but I often think of you and 
 
LETTEKS TO HIS PAEENTS. 145 
 
 of m}^ dear mother, to whom I have occasioned bitter 
 sorrows. Alas! I fear my offences can never be 
 forgiven. 
 
 " I am satisfied you acted wisely in sending me from 
 home, sweet home ! The maxims and rules you gave 
 me, I cherish and keep by me. 
 
 '' Oh ! how I look back on the hopes and fears, alarms 
 and anxieties of my dear parents. If God permits me 
 ever to see them again, I hope it will be under different 
 circumstances and feelings. May He preserve me amidst 
 the winds and waves. 
 
 I am still your affectionate son, 
 
 N. E." 
 
 There was something so ingenuous and relenting in 
 this his first letter, tjiat Mr. E. anticipated the return 
 of his son from the voyage with all that strength of 
 affection which issued from his loving tender heart on 
 all occasions. He longed to embrace the poor wanderer, 
 and mingle his tears with those of his child, saying, 
 " This my son was dead and is alive again, was lost and 
 is found : " but these fond hopes were disappointed. 
 Nugent left the vessel in which he sailed, in opposition 
 to the remonstrances of the captain ; to whom he had 
 been entrusted, with directions to bring him back to 
 England, Mr. E. had only intended to try the effect 
 of absence and employment, in reclaiming his son, and 
 not to fix him for ever in the perilous occupation of a sea- 
 faring life. The Arniston proceeded on her voyage with- 
 out him, and he had soon reason to regret his own 
 indiscretion (for such it was, though God meant it for 
 good), when he found himself cast on the world without 
 means of livelihood, without friends, or even an ac- 
 quaintance who could advise and serve him ; a youth 
 of only seventeen years of age, and separated from all 
 
 13 
 
14:6 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 who felt any interest in his welfare. In this desolate 
 and almost hopeless state; he addressed the following 
 letter to the senior chaplain of Cejlon. 
 
 "Eeverend Sir, 
 
 '^ There are many occasions in life when it is easier 
 to write than to speak, particularly when we are obliged 
 to speak of ourselves. Your know condescension and 
 kindness encourages me to hope you will pardon my 
 present intrusion. 
 
 "It is proper I should acknowledge that my own 
 thoughtlessness and inconsiderate conduct, and neglect 
 of the instructions of an excellent father, have been the 
 cause of my present misfortunes. I ran away from 
 school, and spent my time in dissipation with the young 
 farmers of my neighbourhood; ^^hich gave my poor 
 father great uneasiness and many a miserable hour ; 
 and finding me unwilling to settle to any useful em- 
 ployment, he sent me to sea, as a last resource, in hopes 
 that time and reflection, and experience of the world, 
 might change my habits, and lead me to a proper sense 
 of my errors. With the reluctant consent of both pa- 
 rents, I came out in the Arniston, under the charge of 
 Captain Simpson, whose uniform kindness to me I 
 gratefully remember. He refused to give me permission 
 to stay in India,, and I withdrew from his ship, with a 
 view to profit by the opportunity, and to see Calcutta, 
 and other parts and places, before I returned to Eng- 
 land. In this expectation I have been disappointed, 
 and knowing the dislike of my parents to my present 
 occupation, I have abandoned further thoughts of con- 
 tinuing in it ; at least till I can learn their pleasure as 
 to my future destiny. I humbly throw myself on your 
 kindness, and entreat you to take me under your 
 protection and guidance : for which I hope to testify 
 the gratitude of my heart, by conducting myself with 
 
OCCURRENCES EN INDIA. 147 
 
 diligence and propriety. I have the honour to remain 
 with the greatest respect, 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 KE." 
 
 Self-will is a principal source of mischief to young 
 people ; submission and deference to age and experience, 
 a chief virtue to be cultivated by them. To follow his 
 own inclination and leave the Arniston, was a culpable 
 thoughtlessness; nor can it be justified or excused, 
 ■ though the consequences were advantageous. There is, 
 however, much to approve in Nugent's frank and open 
 avowal of his errors ; he might have concealed them ; 
 a more subtle mind would have been tempted to do so ; 
 but simplicity is always the best policy; it disarms 
 hostility, and disposes men to overlook the past, by the 
 security which seems to be given of future good conduct 
 it relieves the parties from a train of evils and embarrass- 
 ments, and temptations to new offences, which will meet 
 them at every step. To an honourable mind it is ever 
 painful to appear in false colours ; the fear of disclosure, 
 and of the consequent loss, perhaps of our friends, will 
 always fill us with restlessness and apprehension. An 
 offender had better trust God with his case, than turn for 
 deliverance to the wretched expedients which his own 
 pride and folly might suggest. This appeal to a stranger, 
 "I have been an offending wanderer; therefore take me 
 under your protection," may seem to some to be little 
 consistent with prudence: but Nugent could not have 
 acted more wisely, if his letter had been Avritten under 
 the influence of selfish calculation, instead of having been, 
 as it appears to me, the result of integrity. 
 
 It is also evident, from the last two letters, that Mr. 
 Richmond's care and instructions were not, even now, 
 without their use; there was clearly an influence in 
 operation, and a turning to right principles and feelings 
 
148 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 on the part of Nugent ; wliicli, if too weak to stem the 
 torrent of natural corruption, was doing mucTi to con- 
 trol evil, and prepare his mind for its subjugation. 
 Indeed, the full effect of religious education is seldom 
 seen, until a young person has had an opportunity of 
 making an experiment on the principles which he has 
 been taught : however pleasing the piety of children, it 
 can never be relied on : it must first stand the test of 
 solitary exposure to adverse circumstances. The family 
 is a kind of nursery of tender plants, of whose growth 
 and fruit we can determine nothing till they are trans- 
 planted into other soils ; but in all cases a conscientious 
 and diligent cultivation of a child's mind, accompanied 
 by a consistent example, — without which, instruction 
 too often injures rather than improves, — will be like 
 the seed sown, which may not appear for a season, but 
 will in the end spring up and reward our labour. 
 
 I have already remarked, that Mr. K. constantly 
 corresponded with his son ; he did more, — ^Nugent was 
 in his daily thoughts, and he earnestly and continually 
 carried him to a throne of grace; and I cannot but 
 ascribe to the faith and prayer of the affectionate 
 parent, the remarkable escape of the child. The 
 Arniston having sailed without him, was wrecked near 
 Cape LaguUas, with the loss of the whole crew. Three 
 hundred and fifty persons perished, and thus ISTugent's 
 error was overruled by a gracious God to the preserva- 
 tion of his life. But, his return being expected by this 
 vessel, the account of its loss threw his parents and 
 family into the deepest afflicion. The whole family 
 went into mourning ; and the father sorrowed for his 
 lost child with a grief unmitigated by the communication 
 of any cheering circumstance as to the state of his mind, 
 on his fitness for so sudden a change. 
 
 In the following winter, a letter was delivered to Mr. 
 Kichmond, in the hand- writing of the very son whom he 
 
LOSS OF THE ARNISTON. 149 
 
 mourned as dead ; announcing that lie was alive, — tbat 
 circumstances had prevented his setting sail in the Arnis- 
 ton, of whose fate he seemed to be unconscious; and 
 communicating details of his present engagements and 
 future prospects. The transition of feeling to which the 
 receipt of this letter gave rise, produced an effect almost 
 as overwhelming as that which the report of his death 
 had occasioned. The family-mourning was laid aside, 
 and Mr. Eichmond trusted he might recognize in this 
 singular interposition of Divine Providence, a ground for 
 hope that his child's present deliverance was a pledge of 
 that spiritual recovery, which was now alone wanting to 
 fill up the measure of his gratitude and praise. 
 
 Such interposition of Providence may be treated with 
 indifference and contempt by men of the world ; but Mr. 
 E. bowed the knee, and thankfully praised God : " I have 
 prayed to Thee, Father, in secret, and Thou hast 
 rewarded me openly." 
 
 Soon after Nugent left the Arniston, he obtained the 
 situation of third ojB&cer in the brig Kandian. Of this 
 appointment he informed his father, adding, 
 
 ''And now my dear parents, while you are living 
 quietly at home, I am tossed about the stormy ocean in 
 all weathers, and never knowing that I am safe a 
 moment. I hope Wilberforce will take warning from 
 my sad wanderings, or he will never be happy ; receive 
 my kind love, dear father and mother ; the same to 
 my brothers and sisters ; I hope God will take care 
 of me, forgive and convert me ; he is the best friend ; 
 do not cease to pray for me, and remember me still, for 
 I am 
 
 Your affectionate Son, 
 
 K E." 
 
 From some unknown caTise, the letters from England, 
 
 13* 
 
150 LIFE OF NUGEXT RICHMOND. 
 
 tliougL. sent at regular periods, did not reach, their 
 destination; and Nugent suffered mucli anxiety at not 
 hearing from his family : he writes — 
 
 "Ever dear and affectionate parents, 
 
 "* * * It is now two years since I left 
 
 England; and I have neither heard from nor of you, 
 except once from a missionary, who told me he had 
 seen you in Yorkshire a few months after I sailed, and 
 that you were quite well. He is a very good man, and 
 I have been to hear him several times. I have ajso 
 
 attended Mr. , another missionary, and a valuable 
 
 servant of God; indeed they all appear to be of one 
 heart and one spirit. Would to God I were like them I 
 
 Mr. has been very kind to me ; but he is a bad 
 
 man, and altogether unfit to be a clergyman. I shall 
 not mention his faults, for it seems ungrateful to dwell 
 on a benefactor's misconduct, or indeed on the miscon- 
 duct of any one. I have been greatly distressed at 
 hearing nothing of my poor mother, who has shed so 
 many tears on my account; nor of my dear brothers 
 and sisters, though I have written so many letters to 
 them. 
 
 " So the Arniston was lost ! Oh I merciful escape. 
 
 "I am sorry to say, my new captain is a wild, 
 extravagant, and dissipated man, always giving balls and 
 routs on board, or on shore. * ** * * 
 
 Dancing and singing to a late hour is a sad way of 
 spending Saturday night. It shocks me to say, my dear 
 father, I have only been to church about twelve times 
 since I left England : indeed, sailors scarcely know what 
 church is, except on board men of war, where there is a 
 chaplain; nevertheless, if we cannot go to church, we 
 seldom work on a Sunday as on a week-day ; so that I 
 have time to read the Bible and pray. You gave me a 
 Bible when I left you, and I have it still, and hope 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 151 
 
 always to have it. Oli that I knew how to make a right 
 use of it. Be assured^ my dear father, I neither dance 
 nor gamble ; although there is much of both here, and I 
 should please more if I did as others ; I thank God I 
 know not how to do either, and I am sure I have no wish 
 to be wise in such things. I have encountered many 
 unpleasant remarks on this account. Pray for me, pray 
 for your poor Nugent ; think, when you are in bed, and 
 by your fire-side, I am toiling by day and watching by 
 night, tossed ,about in gales of wind, scared by storms of 
 thunder, lightning, and rain, ignorant of my fate for a 
 single hour. Oh ! a sailor's life is wicked, miserable, and 
 deplorable ; but this is all the fruit of my sin, and I 
 justly deserve my chastisement. ^ Farewell — that you 
 may long live, and my mother, and my sisters, and my 
 brothers, to enjoy every blessing, temporal and eternal, 
 is the ardent wish 
 
 Of your affectionate son, 
 
 N. E." 
 
 A few months after, he wrote again to his mother ; — 
 
 '' My dearest a^d most affectionate Mother, 
 "I have just heard that the. ship Alexander is 
 arrived at Columbo, by which I hope to receive letters 
 from home. I am on the other side of Ceylon, and I 
 fear it may be a fortnight or three weeks before I can 
 get them here, and we expect to sail before that time. I 
 am all uneasiness ; and still more anxious when I think 
 what will be said in them. Sometimes I am pleased, 
 then I am grieved and fear : uncertain of their contents, 
 still I long to read them. Thanks to an all-merciful 
 God, I have succeeded well in India, especially when I 
 consider I had no friend to guide me : but my success 
 gives me little satisfaction, while I reflect on the wounded 
 feelings of an affectionate mother. I now indeed, see 
 
152 LIFE OF NUGENT KICHMOND. 
 
 and feel my folly ; if I had taken your advice, I should 
 never have suffered so many hardships ; but this is not 
 my greatest trial, my sins will all rise up against me in 
 the hour of death, and at the day of judgment. Oh I that 
 I could feel this consideration as I ought ; my insensi- 
 bility distresses me. May the Lord help me. 
 
 " Nov. 2. No letter. I am full of uneasiness and 
 anxiety. This is Sunday, and the vessel is under my 
 command. My superior ofiicers are gone on shore, I 
 fear for no good, they think very little of worship, — 
 officers or men. The men are great gamblers. I went 
 among them this evening, and found them at hazard : I 
 threw the dice overboard, though probably my life is in 
 danger for what I have done, for the dice belonged to a 
 Spaniard, who thinks nothing of using his stiletto : but 
 I have done what I considered my duty, and I must 
 trust God with the consequences. The Portuguese 
 sailors, when provoked, are as revengeful as the 
 Spaniards: the other night I nearly lost my life from 
 a party of them; there had been a quarrel between 
 some Portuguese and English sailors; I was walking 
 alone on shore, and fifteen of the^former came up and 
 asked me to what nation I belonged; and on my reply- 
 ing, " To the English," they lifted up their cudgels to 
 level me with the ground. I raised my arms to defend 
 my head, when they discovered my uniform and buttons, 
 and cried out, ' Don 't strike him ! ' for they perceived I 
 was not a common sailor, or I certainly should have been 
 killed on the spot. This was another wonderful escape. 
 God is very good to me, and I long to make a suitable 
 return to him. 
 
 '' Nov. 4. This day my letters are arrived, but they 
 are a series of sorrows to me. When I read the first, 
 how I felt ? I could scarcely hold it in my hand : I 
 sobbed and wept. Oh! my poor mother; I have 
 occasioned your illness, and endangered your life. I do 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 153 
 
 not know how to go on writing ; I cannot put two words 
 comfortably together. I know, my dear mother, you 
 
 prayed for me in that trying hour 
 
 "Mr. B , who is returning to Europe, has 
 
 behaved very kindly to me ever since I first knew him, 
 which is now more than a year; he will tell you all 
 about me. I am conscious of not being what you 
 would vash me to be, but I hope, by God's grace, to 
 be made altogether such as you desire. I know you 
 pray for me continually, and I trust that God will 
 change my heart before I die. Farewell, my dear 
 mother; I shall write whenever opportunity serves; 
 do you write constantly to me. Remember me most 
 kindly to my father, brothers, and sisters. That they 
 may live long in the enjoyment of every blessing, is the 
 earnest prayer for them all, of 
 
 Your affectionate 
 N." 
 
 I have ever remarked that no case is hopeless where 
 there is strong affection. An unimpassioned soul is 
 seldom touched by any thing beyond the range of its 
 own selfish gratifications, and usually presents a stub- 
 born resistance to considerations which affect only, or 
 chiefly, the welfare of others ; but an affectionate temper, 
 amidst many sinful wanderings, is still capable of im- 
 pressions. 
 
 The letters of Nugent discover a very feeling and 
 grateful spirit, a sense of obligation, and a self-condem- 
 nation for past misconduct. They display a conflict 
 between duty and irregular inclination, and, in some 
 instances, a firmness of principle far above mere nature. 
 They could not fail to inspire a pleasing expectation, 
 that though an enemy had sown tares in the field, the 
 wheat would ultimately overtop them and grow to matu- 
 rity. Mr. Richmond's heart was full of hope, and his 
 
154 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 faitli leaned on tlie promises of God with firmer depend- 
 ence ; lie was encouraged to more vigorous perseverance 
 in interceding for his much-loved child ; he had carried 
 his sorrows to God, and he now praised him for his 
 faithfulness in alleviating them. About this time the 
 following letter was received from a missionary at Co- 
 lumbo, which bears an honourable testimony to JSfugent's 
 improved conduct. It will be read with interest by those 
 who can sympathize with a father's sufferings, or under- 
 stand the joy which welcomes a returning penitent. 
 
 " Dear and Eeverend Sir, 
 '^I have no doubt you will excuse the liberty a 
 stranger takes, who knows you only by name, in writing 
 to you a few lines, which cannot fail to interest both you 
 and your family. I have a father's heart, and know 
 well the feelings with which you will receive the infor- 
 mation I send you respecting Mr. N"ugent Kichmond, 
 your once disobedient son. It would be most pleasing 
 to me to say that he is a humble penitent, seeking life 
 and salvation through the boundless merits of a crucified 
 Eedeemer ; but though I fear to go thus far, I am war- 
 ranted to bear testimony to a real change in him in many 
 respects. He is become quite steady in his conduct, and 
 is very attentive to the duties of his profession, and you 
 have not the least cause for anxiety with regard to his 
 temporal welfare ; nor is he by any means careless and 
 unconcerned about the things which make for his 
 eternal peace. He is much more anxious than he used 
 to be for religious society, and often attends our evening 
 meetings. . This morning he breakfasted with us, and I 
 endeavoured to supply your place in my poor way, by 
 interrogating him in t^e most serious manner, respecting 
 the state of his soul ; a^d y^h^JX I found him unprepared 
 to answer me in the way I Fished, I urged his still closer 
 »ttenti<js2 to religion, by mptiyes addressed to his hopes 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 155 
 
 and fears. I read to him the fifty-first Psalm, and he 
 listened with deep interest, and seemed to feel every 
 word. I prayed for him in my family worship, and 
 enjoyed a more than usual freedom in spreading his case 
 before the Lord. When we rose from our knees, I 
 believe there were few dry eyes. On the whole, I think 
 we have reason to hope^he best respecting your son : I 
 advised him to read some passage in the Bible every day 
 with special application to his own case, and to turn it 
 into prayer for himself I have heard many acknowledge 
 that they have received great benefit from praying in 
 Grod's own words. May poor Kugent be another instance. 
 I cannot close this hasty letter, without informing you 
 of the good effect of the Dairyman's Daughter in Ceylon. 
 A person of whose conversion I do not doubt, and who 
 has joined our little church, ascribes his change of heart 
 to God and you. 
 
 "Begging you will read with candor what I have 
 written with difficulty ; 
 
 " I am, with respectful and affectionate regard, 
 
 Yours, 
 J. 0." 
 
 The caution with which this correspondent speaks of 
 conversion, renders his testimony the more valuable ; 
 yet it appears to me very evident, that Nugent was 
 making progress towards a complete surrender of his 
 heart to God, and that his mind was at this time under 
 the influence of real principle. lie might be less ac- 
 quainted than others with esperime^tal religion, and 
 have much to learn as to the cause of all his wanderings, 
 and the entire corruption of his heart : defects of this ' 
 kind he laments himself, and in all his letters cle2.cribe-3 
 his case rather as that of one wl^o soqks and longs 
 to be a true convert, than of one who h^3 C^ttTO^vi 
 a saving change: still, in a long ^,vm oP corresponrleuco 
 
156 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 before me, I remark in him a gradual, and very real 
 approximatioa to all that is correct in opinion and con- 
 duct; he never reflects on any one but himself; he 
 labours to guard his brothers against sin, by the know- 
 ledge of its effects and consequences in his own history ; 
 he bears an affectionate testimony to the conscientious 
 consistency of his parents ; he wishes for an opportunity 
 to make some suitable returns for their kindness; he 
 connects every event with the disposition of Divine 
 Providence ; he secures the respect and countenance of 
 every one by his steady and correct conduct ; he courts 
 the society of good people ; he firmly resists evil, though 
 attended with danger to himself; and on all occasions 
 expresses himself with so much affection and veneration 
 for true religion, as on the whole satisfies my own mind, 
 that if even he had now been removed from the world, 
 his family would have had no reason to have sorrowed 
 as those without hope. There is not, however in these 
 letters such a degree of interest to persons unacquainted 
 with him, as to warrant their introduction. A sufficient 
 number relating to this period are already before the 
 reader, to show the value of early instruction under 
 every circumstance. 
 
 The young sailor quitted the Kenyon, which was sold 
 by the government, and went on board the Oracabessa^ 
 from which vessel he wrote to his father the following 
 affecting account of the state of slavery at the Mauritius ; 
 — a letter full of correct feeling, and still more satisfact- 
 ory evidence of right conduct. 
 
 ' My dear Father, 
 •'We are on the point o£ sailing for the Mauritius 
 * * * I know that you will be pleased to hear that 
 I am taking out some Bibles, Testaments, and tracts, in 
 different languages, which were sent to me by my friend 
 Lieutenant B , to distribute and try what good I 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PAREKTS. 157 
 
 could do there. How is it there are no missionaries at 
 the Mauritius ? an island containing thirty thousand 
 souls ; ten thousand whites, and twenty thousand men 
 of colour. I can safely assure you, there is no part of 
 the world where the British flag is flying, which is half 
 so ignorant, or in such a dreadful state of darkness : 
 there is, indeed, scarcely any religion at all there ; what 
 there is, is Eoman Catholic ; it is true there is an English 
 church, and perhaps from twenty to thirty persons in 
 it once a day, and the clergyman * * * * bat 
 the island, from one end to the other, exhibits every 
 species of vice, without control or check of any kind. 
 Slavery, as you know, is the cause of everything that is 
 bad : never were its frightful effects more clearly shown 
 than in this place ; they are far worse than even in our 
 West India plantations. I have been an eye-witness to 
 scenes altogether shocking to humanity: the heaviest 
 punishments are inflicted for faults, which in England 
 would receive a trifling fine, or a short imprisonment. 
 Masters have chopped off the ears of their slaves, and 
 in some instances, have literally starved them to death. 
 Neither is the slave-trade extinct in this part of the 
 world, but is still carried on to great extent. There may 
 be a stricter watch against the slave- vessels, but never- 
 theless they are here every month, and I have known 
 the slaves to have been taken into harbour in empty 
 water-casks to elude detection. 
 
 "Now, my father, take your Atlas and look at the 
 position of Mauritius, Bambour, and Madagascar, with 
 the African main. Slaves are to be procured at either 
 of the last places for about thirty dollars a-head. If 
 taken to Bourbon, or the Mauritius, they fetch from 
 three to four hundred dollars. Is not this an irresistible 
 temptation to a slave-trader, when he is sure of his 
 price if he can escape the vigilance of the naval officers ? 
 If you look at the position of these places, you may 
 
 14 
 
158 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 judge of tlie ease of carrying on this traffic, wlien I tell 
 yon that there is only one man of war in the harbour of 
 Port Louis to search vessels which come in ; and not one 
 cruising about this coast, though it is well known that 
 there are five Spanish ships, two Portuguese, and one 
 English, employed in the trade. One of these vessels 
 was lately wrecked there ; of the crew, one sailor only 
 was saved, who is now on board our ship ; he has fre- 
 quently conversed with me, and I am persuaded his 
 information is correct. 
 
 ''Now can nothing be done to restrain the cruel 
 treatment of these poor creatures ? On landing at Port 
 Louis, you would see one of them in irons, and as you 
 advanced, another flogged most unmercifully, without 
 distinction of sex ; and in general no clothing allowed ; 
 some kind-hearted masters give a dollar a- jear for clothes. 
 There is, I believe, a code of laws, but they are never 
 enforced. I have myself seen slaves unable to stand, 
 from the severity of their, punishment ; thirty in a row, 
 on whose backs gashes, not lashes, might be observed, 
 pieces fairly cut out, and in some instances an eye forced 
 out, and there is no redress : nor are they fed properly. 
 I had forty-five of them working under me, for whom 
 their owner received a dollar a day per head ; they 
 worked from sun-rise to sun-set : and what was their 
 food ? For breakfast a cake, made of a kind of potatoe, 
 weighing three ounces ; for dinner half a pound of boiled 
 rice, with one spoonful of assinge, or an equal quantity 
 of horse-beans ; for supper, the same as at breakfast, 
 with a little water to drink. 
 
 '' I will tell you an instance which I know to be true, 
 amidst many others, which I have heard from men of 
 veracity. A woman flogged her own sister, who was 
 'unfortunately her slave also, till she fainted. She then 
 twisted her arms till the poor creature nearly expired. 
 She tlien let her recover, and singed her flesh with a hot 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 159 
 
 iron; * « -js- ^ * the sufferer never 
 complained ; indeed if she had, it would have been worse 
 for her in the end ; the truth is, there is a combination 
 among the people of the whole island to resist the law, 
 and support each other in their acts of oppression. My 
 object in mentioning these things to you, is, that you 
 should first make inquiry to satisfy yourself of the truth 
 of the facts, and fhen try to get something done for these 
 wretched beings. If such cruelties be passed by with 
 indifference in the harbour, what unobserved abomina- 
 tions may be expected in the interior of the island. 
 
 " It is said that the climate requires no clothing, but 
 this is false : the nights are very cold and the season 
 sometimes severe. I have even slept under several 
 blankets and been cold. How many poor souls have 
 not one I * * * Kindest love to all, and 
 Believe me, my dear Father, 
 
 Your affectionate Son, 
 
 K K." 
 
 From the Bay of All-saints, he touches again on this 
 horrid traffic ; — "I have made many observations on the 
 country and people here, and particularly on the slave- 
 trade; all of which will confirm what I have already 
 told you respecting it. This port is full of slave-ships, 
 and I am lying close to one which has just landed seven 
 hundred, men, women and children. What a pity this 
 nation should persist in this infamous traffic; I admit 
 the slaves are better used than in some other places, but 
 still they are exposed to the caprices and unrestrained 
 passions of corrupt nature. 
 
 ^'1 have been distributing tracts and Bibles, which 
 some have rejected with scorn, and others received with 
 thanks- I assure you I have spent more time in this 
 way, than in attending to my worldly interest, and so 
 I ought ; for I am indebted to Him for all my mercies, 
 
160 LIFE OF NUGENT EICHMOND. 
 
 in whose cause I am so labouring ? and if only one 
 Bible finds its way to the heart, what shall I think of 
 my task in eternity. Wherever I go, I will labour 
 faithfully in this good work, to the utmost of my power, 
 and particularly in the Isle of France, for that island is 
 grievously neglected as to all spiritual instruction. 
 
 " I have conversed with two catholic priests, they 
 appear to me to be pious men, though they refuse to 
 sanction the distribution of the Scriptures among the 
 laity. I confess I am not able to argue with them." 
 
 Upon the chief subjects of these letters, we may again 
 remark the happy recollections of his early years. From 
 his excellent father he had imbibed an aversion to this 
 iniquitous traffic, and a sense of its wretched effects on 
 the well-being, both of the oppressor and the oppressed ; 
 from him he had learnt also to value the Holy Scriptures 
 as God's best gift to a ruined world, and had received 
 associations of sentiment and affection which no subse- 
 quent Avanderings of sinful inclination, no exposure to 
 the temptations of scenes full of danger, and abounding 
 with iniquity, could ever obliterate. The principles of 
 his education restrained him in his worst moments, and 
 they obtained a permanent ascendancy with the return 
 of those better feelings which were produced by the 
 salutary correction of his misfortunes. In his case, the 
 experiment of a voyage was successful, though it may 
 be doubted whether, in general, any other result can 
 reasonably be expected from it than a confirmation of a 
 young man's evil propensities. It seemed good to a 
 wise and gracious God to exercise this misguided, but 
 affectionate youth, with a succession of disappointments, 
 mingled with merciful preservations, and to train him in 
 the school of adversity, to show the good effect of a pious 
 father's instructions, and the rich value of his blessings 
 and prayers. 
 
 His shipwrecks — his loses — and the severe trial in 
 
LETTEKS TO HIS PAKENTS. 161 
 
 the death of an amiable young woman to whom he was 
 engaged in marriage, have been detailed by another 
 hand ; and I have only to add a few extracts from 
 numerous letters in my possession, illustrative of his 
 progress in unfeigned piety. 
 
 " The happiest day I could see in this world, would 
 be that on which I might mingle myself once more 
 with you all. Oh ! with what joy should I return to 
 you, my dear father, and my dear mother, to receive 
 your forgiveness, and welcome home again. God only 
 knows whether we shall ever meet on this side eternity ; 
 there seems to be more difficulties and obstacles in my 
 way every year. 
 
 " The next happy day would be when the Lord, who 
 has been ever kind and merciful to me, should entirely 
 wean me from this wicked world and its temptations ; 
 then should I be as happy as I wish to be. 
 
 " My Bible, which is everything, is the only means 
 of grace I have ; by reading it, with some other good 
 books, tracts, and sermons, I hope to keep close to the 
 fear of God. 
 
 " There are two clergymen here, but, alas ! — I must 
 say no evil, when I can say no good of them. I wish 
 some missionaries, truly pious men, were sent out to us ; 
 I assure you we have great need of spiritual instructors. 
 A good man preached in a brig close to us yesterday ; 
 and I hope next Sunday to hoist the flag of Zion at our 
 main -mast head. 
 
 " My dear father, you have now four sons, will you 
 spare me one of them ? it will be a great charge, but 
 not the first of the kind. I have had a youngster three 
 years under my care, and it will be some security to you 
 for riiy proper conduct, when I tell you that Lieutenant 
 
 B is going to put his younger son under my manage- 
 
 mei\,t. He is a pious man, and his confidence in me may 
 
 14* 
 
162 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 serve to sliow that I am not altogether undeserving of 
 yours. 
 
 ^'I have never kept my birth-day but once siDce I 
 left England. I sat and felt so melancholy, instead of 
 being joyful ; and with good reason, when I look back 
 on years that are past. 
 
 *' We sail for the Mauritius to-morrow, and I have 
 humbly besought the Lord, who has ever been merciful 
 to me, to protect and preserve us all." 
 
 " Oh, my good father, no one can imagine the hor- 
 rors of a shipwreck, but those who have experienced it. 
 Many, 'many heartfelt thanks to that Providence which 
 has again rescued me from a watery grave. I had 
 made a little fortune, and was returning home with 
 presents for my family, and with three beautiful 
 sbawls for my dear mother ; but all is lost, except one 
 trunk, in which was my Bible and the Dairyman's 
 Daughter. Thus all my hopes and expectations have 
 been frustrated. Yet I believe these things are for' my 
 good. I must begin the world afresh, and I hope to do 
 so in more senses than one. Tell my dear mother not to 
 grieve for my misfortunes, God knows what is best for us. 
 
 " While the ship was driving, and it blew a perfect 
 hurricane, I went down to my cabin to pray to the 
 Lord for his assistance and protection in this trying- 
 hour. In the midst of pra}/er, and while the tears 
 were in my eyes, the ship struck on the sand, with a 
 shock that brought many to the ground ; I staggered a 
 little, tbough on my knees, and my little L. B — was 
 thrown off a chest on which he lay close to me. Every 
 thing was now confusion. In the mean time I again 
 went below and prayed with heart and soul to Almighty 
 God to save us : — and my prayers were answered, * 
 * * for a certain sometliing — a kind of comfortable 
 thought seemed to rise within me and say, ' Thy life 
 shall be spared.' Not all the shocks, seas, or winds 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PAEENTS. -163 
 
 could afterwards make me fear or think the contrary. 
 Surely there neve^^was a greater proof than this, that 
 the Lord is always with us. It animated and comforted 
 me, and made me work and exert myself with redoubled 
 vigour, though a great part of the night it rained hard 
 accompained with thunder and lightning. 
 
 "Oh I how thankful I ought to be to Almighty God 
 for his many mercies repeatedly shown to me; indeed, 
 I trust I know that suitable returns are expected from 
 me. ***** "When I look back on the last 
 twenty-five years, I am lost in wonder and astojiish- 
 ment. My dear father, do not forget the eighteenth 
 of July. 
 
 " One thing grieved me in the shipwreck more than 
 all — the loss of some valuable presents for my family; 
 but this is G od's will ; it is the Lord's doing, and all is 
 for the best. 
 
 "I am returning home for the re-establishment of 
 my health, which has suffered severely from exposure 
 to hardships by night and day : but the happiness of 
 seeing you all once more, will not a little contribute to 
 my restoration. My heart beats, and my head turns 
 giddy at the thought of this meeting ; it wijl be both a 
 pleasing and a painful one to me. 
 
 "Do not expect me before the end of July or the 
 beginning of August. I shall, of course, write to my 
 father on my arrival, that I may not take you by sur- 
 prise. And oh ! my dear mother, pray for a safe 
 voyage for me, and a happy meeting to us all. I have 
 had many trials, afflictions, and crosses for the last ten 
 months, but I feel the loss of her to whom I was 
 engaged, most of all, perhaps too much. Still in all 
 these things there is one great consolation ; they are 
 sent by him who careth for me. I believe they are all 
 ordered in wisdom and mercy, though you and I may 
 not be able to interpret their meaning. K we could see 
 
164 LIFE OF NUGENT EICHMOND. 
 
 the end, as we shall do by and by, I am quite satisfied 
 we should gratefully acknowledge that they were 
 intended for good ; and this comfortable assurance, 
 through him who loveth us better than we love our- 
 selves, will, I trust, be my supjDort, and inspire me 
 with cheerful resignation and renewed confidence in 
 God. I have many thoughts about eternity ; though 
 alas ! the Wicked One strives to banish them from my 
 mind. 
 
 "Your truly valuable letters, my dear mother, dis- 
 cover so much affection and kindness towards me, that 
 I know not how to express my joy and thankfulness; 
 they often draw tears from my eyes, and are the dearer 
 to me the more I read them. I have a great deal to say, 
 to propose, and to request, and hardly know whether to 
 begin now, or wait till 1 have the joy of seeing my dear- 
 est parents. "What a meeting will this be ! I seem to 
 dread it, though it will be a grief inexpressible were it 
 not to take place. * * -J^ * * Pray for an unfor- 
 tunate wanderer, and may God answer your prayers, to 
 my present and eternal good." 
 
 The expected return of Nugent was an event which 
 warmed every heart in Turvey Eectory with the most 
 anxious and affectionate sympathy. The whole family 
 was eager, either to welcome a relative whom they 
 scarcely knew but by report, or to renew an affection 
 which time and distance had not effaced, but rather 
 strengthened. 
 
 Mrs. Kichmond fitted up, partly with her own hand, 
 a room for her son's reception, and arranged everj^thing 
 to testify her regard for the returning child, and banish 
 every painful recollection from his mind ; but after the 
 lapse of a few months, his death, instead of his arrival, 
 was announced. 
 
 His constitution had been greatly impaired by un- 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 165 
 
 healthy climates, and the s accession of hardships to 
 which he had been exposed, and both his health and 
 spirits finally sunk under the last and greatest trial, the 
 
 death of Miss . After this event he resolved on 
 
 returning immediately to England. 
 
 Previous to the voyage he had an attack of fever, and 
 embarked in very weak health. The ship met with a 
 heavy gale, which induced him to exert himself beyond 
 his strength ; he had a relapse of fever, became very ill, 
 and was occasionally delirious. Immediate danger was 
 not apprehended : but one night he went to bed about 
 twelve o'clock, and was found dead in his cabin the next 
 morning, to the surprise and grief of all on board, by 
 whom he was universally beloved and respected. 
 
 Alone in the hour of his departure from sin and sor- 
 row, yet not alone, for his God, and the God of his 
 father was with him, and gave him rest from the days 
 of adversity. 
 
 An ivory box containing a few jewels and gold-chains, 
 which he had intended as presents for his brothers and 
 sisters, was discovered in his pocket after his decease. 
 On the inside of the cover, the following lines were 
 written in his own hand in pencil, apparently a short 
 time before his death. 
 
 Where vice has held his empire long, 
 'Twill not endure the least control : 
 None but a power divinely strong, 
 Can turn the current of the soul. 
 Great God I I own the power divine, 
 That works to change this heart of mine j 
 I would be formed anew, and bless 
 The wonders of redeeming grace. 
 
 While little was known of his dying moments, the 
 most satisfactory accounts of his living hours were 
 received by Mr. Richmond from many persons who, 
 
166 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 for some years, had observed JSTugent's exemplar) 
 conduct.*^ 
 
 In the letter to his daughter at Glasgow, Mr. R. thuo 
 adverted to them : — 
 
 " The circumstances attendant upon our dear Nugent'a 
 end are few and simple. You are aware what a long 
 series of favourable accounts of his general behaviour we 
 have had from a variety of quarters. You should know, 
 that from at least five religious friends I have received 
 highly satisfactory testimonies of his religious feelings 
 and principles, although he was modest and reserved in 
 speaking of himself. I had much information while I 
 was visiting his most intimate friend, Mr. Bailey, in the 
 Isle of Wight, (late of Gibraltar), whose little babe was 
 christened Mercy ISTugent Richmond. The time of his 
 shipwreck seemed to have been one of special prayer 
 and impression. 
 
 '^His affections for his relatives were very strong. 
 His principles of honourable conduct, integrity, pecu- 
 niary accuracy, official diligence, kind manners, and 
 moral deportment, were exemplary. He lived in much 
 esteem, and died much beloved. Dear boy! He was 
 snatched from our embraces at the hour of his returning 
 to them. He is buried in the depths of the ocean. But 
 the sea shall give np her dead, and I trust he shall then 
 appear a living soul." 
 
 A melancholy feeling steals over the spirits, as we 
 
 * The chief part of his property Tras lost with the Oracabessa; but he left, 
 out of the scanty store reserved from three shipwrecks, a hundred rupees to 
 general charitable purposes : 601. to the Bible Society, 501. to the Church 
 Missionary Society, 60Z. to the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 
 and 50l. to the Keligious Tract Society. The selection of these charitable 
 institutions was probably designed to express affection and respect for his 
 father's preferences, as well as regard on his own part for the truths of 
 religion. 
 
HIS DEATH. 167 
 
 follow tHis first-born son of an excellent man through, 
 each succeeding calamity of his life, to a solitary death. 
 
 We must adore in silence, confidently resting on the 
 wisdom and goodness of Him whom clcads and darkness 
 surround, while ' righteousness and truth are the habita- 
 tions of his seat.' 
 
 The history before us exhibits in che clearest light 
 (and this is my chief purpose in writing it) the ines 
 timable blessing of a pious parent, and the value of 
 religious education under all possible contingencies. ' In 
 the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold 
 not thine hand, for thou knowest not whether shall 
 prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be 
 alike good.' (Eccles. xi. 6.) 
 
168 LIFE OF WILBERFOECE RICHMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 ** And therefore wert thou bread to virtuous knowledge, 
 And wisdom early planted in thy soul." 
 
 ROWE. 
 
 WiLBERFORCE was the second son of his father, and 
 was born in Turvej Rectory, Aug. 20, 1807. 
 
 Mr. R. intended to have added another tract to the 
 annals of pious young people. He had prepared mate- 
 rials for this purpose, and had even chosen that title for 
 his narrative, which I have adopted for the present tri- 
 bute of affection to his memory. It is deeply to be 
 regretted that he did not live to execute his design. 
 His talent for religious biography was peculiar, perhaps 
 unequalled. He drew his sketches from real life, with 
 a scrupulous attention to truth, and never failed to 
 touch the heart. But such was the poignancy of his 
 feelings in the recollection of past scenes, that he was 
 often compelled to lay aside the attempt, and wait for a 
 season of greater composure. Meanwhile his own in- 
 creasing infirmities, and his final removal from earthly 
 scenes and earthly sorrows, deprived the Christian world 
 of a most instructive memoir, which, though complete 
 in the outline, and comprising all he meant to say of his 
 son, from the cradle to the grave, is so imperfect in its 
 detail, that no farther use can be made of his materials, 
 than to guide me in my feeble delineation of the character 
 of this interesting boy. 
 
 Soon after his birth he was received into the Christian 
 church by the rite of baptism, when his father called 
 him Wilberforce, connecting with that name the most 
 
wilberfokce's pursuits. 169 
 
 important event in his own life, his conversion to Grod 
 by the perusal of the ' Practical Yiew of Christianity.' * 
 
 While an infant he was taken by his parents on a 
 
 visit to . Certain associations impart an interest 
 
 to circumstances apparently trivial, while they are 
 fondly regarded as presages of future eminence, and 
 often stimulate to the diligent employment of means for 
 its attainment. Of this character is the following 
 anecdote : — 
 
 "I cannot forget a circumstance which occurred in 
 his infancy ; his mother and myself were on a visit at 
 a friend's house. A large family were assembled at 
 morning prayers, and amongst them was our little boy 
 in his nurse's arms. An aged and •venerable minister 
 was conducting the family-worship. In the midst of 
 his prayer the child began to cry. The good man 
 paused, and beckoned the servant to give him the infant. 
 He took him in his arms, and held him for several 
 minutes, during which he offered up most affecting 
 petitions on his behalf, praying ' earnestly, and in a 
 manner that touched all our hearts, that it might please 
 God to bless him for time and eternity ; that if his life 
 were spared, he might be a blessing to his parents and 
 the church of God, and finally have an inheritance with 
 the saints in light. He then returned the child, now 
 pacified, to the nurse's arms, and resumed the general 
 subject of his prayer, which had been thus interrupted. 
 There was an affecting singularity in the transaction, 
 which much interested us at the time, and now that I 
 am engaged in the retrospective view of what passed, 
 from the cradle to the grave of my beloved son, it recurs 
 to my recollection with peculiar emotions of heart. The 
 venerable man of God is long since gone to his rest, but 
 his prayer was recorded in heaven, and the Lord in 
 mercy has given it a gracious answer." 
 
 * See Memoir of Mr. Richmond, p. 28. 
 
170 LIFE OF WILBEEFOECE EICHMOND. 
 
 When little more than two years old, lie fell from a 
 window on the pavement ; and, though he recoverd 
 from the accident, he was lame ever afterwards, and the 
 natural delicacy of his constitution was probably 
 increased by the injury he received at that time. This 
 circumstance would scarcely have deserved a serious 
 mention, if it did not seem to be a link in the chain of 
 events which contributed towards the formation of his 
 character, by rendering him unfit for boyish sports, and 
 compelling him to seek amusements in higher occupa- 
 tions. '^ 
 
 His resource was the Museum, and the experiments 
 made by his father's philosophical apparatus. In these 
 he took a principal share, and resorted to them when 
 his other studies did not require his attention. Elec- 
 tricity, pneumatics, mineralogy, chemistry, and music, 
 in which he was no mean proficient, occupied his leisure 
 hours. He delighted in science of every kind, but 
 especially in mathematics. The indubitable verity of a 
 demonstration suited 'his turn of mind, and had God 
 spared his life, he would probably have distinguished 
 himself at the university. Such was the opinion of his 
 tutor, who in a letter of condolence to his father after his 
 death, speaks of him as a boy of no common intelligence 
 and attainment. 
 
 "I marked the superior endowments of his mind in 
 the first hours of our intercourse, and was confirmed in 
 my opinion by each succeeding year. He caught an 
 idea quickly : seemed never to forget it ; for his me- 
 mory, was remarkably strong and retentive, and he made 
 more rapid and solid attainments than any other boy 
 placed under my care. At a very early period he read 
 
 * To treat little things with contempt is no mark of superior intelligence. 
 Their potency is acknowledged by all thoughtful observers of the course of 
 events, whether in the sparrow that falls, or the single hair which is num- 
 bered. 
 
171 
 
 Euclid, and surprised me by his acute and sensil)le 
 observations on the cbaracter of pure matbematics. He 
 appeared deligbted to master a difficult problem, and 
 before be was twelve years of age, bad exceeded tbe 
 advance of many men of two years standing at tbe 
 university. 
 
 ^'I observed an equal neatness and success in bis 
 classical exercises and translations. But I was still 
 more astonisbed at bis discrimination and knowledge 
 of character. Tbis must bave arisen from bis seeking 
 tbe conversation of bis superiors. He bad a thinking 
 mind, and a habit of going to tbe bottom of a subject. 
 He was not without his prejudices, and sometimes ex- 
 pressed a contempt for authority, and assumea an air 
 of confidence in bis own opinion, which needed check- 
 ing; though I never found him obstinate, or averse to 
 re-consider bis decisions, and but seldom in any material 
 error. 
 
 "He had a playful temper, and Avitb great good 
 humor would join his brothers in a gambol ; but when 
 alone, he was more like a little man than a child, — be 
 was, in short, an amusing and rational companion." 
 
 Tbe writer of the above extract left Turvey Avben 
 his pupil was about twelve years of age. Wilberforce 
 expressed great regret at bis removal, and addressed 
 bis tutor in a letter equally creditable to both parties. 
 I lay it before tbe reader to show the affectionate and 
 grateful temper of tbe one, and to bear an honourable 
 testimony to the conscientious and valuable services of 
 tbe other 
 
 " My deae Sir, 
 
 "I hope you will not suppose that I am insensible 
 
 to the value of your kind and affectionate care of me. 
 
 I know that notbiog wounds more deeply than neglect 
 
 and ingratitude, and I hope I bave never, amidst many 
 
172 LIFE OF WILBEEFOECE EICIIMOND. 
 
 other errors, fallen into this offence. If I have appeared 
 ■ungrateful; I sincerely ask pardon. I fear I have often 
 behaved disrespectfully, and ''done many things which I 
 ought not to have done." But I assure you, I never 
 gave offence without pain to myself, and the reproof of 
 my own conscience, and a resolution to amend. I am 
 certain all these things will be forgotten, but I thought 
 I might not have a better opportunity of telling you 
 how deeply I regret them. I shall ever entertain the 
 liveliest emotions of gratitude for the care and pains 
 you have taken in superintending and directing my 
 studies; and though distance may separate us, I trust 
 love will unite us. I am persuaded you will never 
 forget me, and I beg you will receive this book as a 
 tribute of affection, and a memorial of lasting friend- 
 ship. My obligations to you are many, and I wish you 
 to possess something as a token of my sense of them. 
 Perchance, when you take up the volume, you will 
 recur to former scenes and associations, and think of 
 Turvey — " sed Tempora mutantur." I hope my letter 
 will not displease you: if I have not "the pen of a 
 ready writer," I can safely say, I am sincere in all I 
 have said. Be assured of this, that however far distant 
 you may be, or whatever clime you may dwell in — 
 long indeed must the time be before I can forget so good 
 a master as you have been to me. I cannot bid you 
 farewell, until I have wished you health and happiness 
 wherever you may be. I shall highly value and prize 
 your correspondence. 
 
 Ever yours, gratefully and affectionately 
 
 WiLBEEFOECE." 
 
 I perceive by Mr. E.'s memoranda, that he took his 
 little boy on a visit to London, with a view to amuse 
 and instruct him by the curiosities of that magnificent 
 metropolis. 
 
PURSUITS. 173 
 
 I liaye no doubt tlie conversation with liis child on 
 this occasion was intended for insertion, and would 
 probably have afforded an illustration of his own con- 
 stant aim at improvement, no less than of the character 
 and progress of his companion. A letter to "Wilberforce, 
 on a subsequent visit to town by himself, may in a small 
 degree supply the defect. 
 
 " My dear Master Wilberforce, 
 
 "As you asked me to describe to you some of the 
 sights which have met my eye in this sightly and 
 sightful city, I will obey you. 
 
 " The Hobby, or Accelerator, or Adjutor. The neat- 
 ness of its motions, the swiftness of its speed, the elegance 
 of its management and the simplicity of its construction, 
 are very remarkable. I have not had a quiet opportu- 
 nity of trying it, nor do I think the lame can manage it 
 so well as others. On Tuesday next, a new one for 
 ladies only is to be exhibited. All the town is wild this 
 year after hobbies, as they were last year for kaleido- 
 scopes. Old men and children, young men and maidens, 
 will soon be whirling and twirling like tetotums. Twelve 
 places of exhibition already exist. I have been much 
 amused with the sight. 
 
 ''II. The Automaton Chess-player. Nothing ever 
 surprised or perplexed me so much as this. It is a 
 masterpiece of mechanical invention, and how it acts, is 
 as yet past discovery. It has been shown throughout 
 Europe, but no one has approached to detection. It 
 had so singular an effect on my nerves, that I wished 
 for permission to give one immense laugh, and another 
 immense cry, in order to give vent to my exuberant 
 spirits. The whole company sat in motionless wonder 
 for an hour, during which one of them played against 
 the Automaton Turk, and was beaten, though a first- 
 rate player; which vexed him not a little, and he 
 
 15* 
 
174 LIFE OF WILBEEFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 pinched liis nose, and bit his fingers with vexation. 
 Our silence was then broken by a man of wood, dressed 
 as a trumpeter, and who played like a trumpeter, and 
 full well he trumpeted, for he accompanied, with great 
 precision, his master and maker, who played a piece on 
 the piano-forte. 
 
 "III. The Gothic Hall of ancient armoury. This 
 is very magnificent — cost three thousand pounds, and, 
 alas I is going to be sold by auction, like Bullock's 
 museum, part of the dissolution of which, I have wit- 
 nessed in the auction-room. I saw an antique piece of 
 sculpture put up ; one pound, said a gentleman ; two, 
 said another ; three — four — five — one hundred, said 
 the next ; two hundred and fifty, said an old lady ; five 
 hundred, said another — and down it went. 
 
 "ly, The Sostenente Piano-forte. Lovely, sAveet, 
 chaste, bewitching tones. Yery handsome in appear- 
 ance — price from one hundred and ten, to three hundred 
 guineas. 
 
 '' Y. Doctor Thornton's lecture on the human frame. 
 A fresh subject discussed every time. About thirty 
 ladies and forty gentlemen present ; very useful and 
 instructive. Fine transparent paintings of the different 
 parts of the system illustrated; a grand collection of 
 human bones, and of all kinds of animals; he exhi- 
 bited the laughing gas, and it made us all laugh won- 
 derfully ; none could conceive the effect without seeing 
 it ; several of the company tried and exhibited the 
 experiment. He produced, by another gas, a globe of 
 fire, quite, indeed, quite as bright as the sun at noon- 
 day. He also made, as H — would say, 'an enor- 
 mous bang,' with soap-suds and hydrogen gas. The 
 ladies screamed with fright, but no harm was done, and 
 the laughing gas banished all alarms. 
 
 "YI. The Panorama of Spitzbergen, novel and sat- 
 isfactory. Icebergs, ice-mountains, snow, seas, ships. 
 
EXHIBITIONS. ^ 175 
 
 seals, sea-liorses, laruses, white bears, Arctic dogs, &c. 
 in abimdance ; skies terrific — the whole admirably 
 executed, and affording a complete lecture on the natural 
 history of the Polar districts. 
 
 "YII. The Dandies. Yery numerous and vastly 
 abominable. I will not describe them^ for verily my soul 
 loatheth them. The dandizettes, the more sightly objects 
 of the two ; but, alas ! vanity of vanities, all is vanity I 
 
 '^ YIIT. The Southwark Bridge, which you and I saw 
 casting at Eotherham. It strides most nobly across the 
 Thames, and is a grand ornament to the river. 
 • ''IX. The Persian Ambassador. A fine figure in 
 full costume, and quite answers one's idea of an oriental 
 Mahometan grandee. 
 
 '' X. The Fair Circassian. As nobody sees her, of 
 course I do not, so I cannot describe her. 
 
 '' I have gone through my arduous day, and have been 
 gratified by a long and interesting conversation with 
 L — W. I have received no letters from home, and have, 
 therefore, no answer to send. 
 
 With great love to you all, 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 This playful and amusing journal of London curiosi- 
 ties, contains no allusion to the subject which lay nearest 
 to his heart. But Mr. Eichmond seldom wrote on any 
 occasion, to his children, without reminding them of 
 some religious truth, or connecting whatever was curious 
 in art, or beautiful and grand in nature, with some re- 
 mark calculated to inspire in their minds sentiments of 
 solid and scriptural piety. The following letters to 
 Wilberforce are fair specimens of his u.sual manner. The 
 first of these was written when he was yet a little boy. 
 
176 life of wilbekforce richmond. 
 
 '■■ * Dearest little boy, 
 
 "As I was journeying near York last Saturday, 
 where should I suddenly find myself but in a little 
 village called WiTberforce, as my driver, and tLo way- 
 post informed me. 'Dear me,' said I to my fellow- 
 traveller, 'how a certain little lad of my acquaintance 
 would be surprised and pleased, had he been in the 
 chaise this moment.' So I got out and walked up and 
 down in Wilberforce, thinking and talking about that 
 said little lad. It is a pretty little place. As I loved 
 the name, both for your sake, and for the sake of 
 Henrietta's god-father, I amused myself with asking 
 different people the name of the place, and everybody's 
 answer was the same. I asked an old man, ' What is 
 this village called ! ' ' 'Wilberforce, an' please your 
 reverence,' said he, and so. said all the rest; and thus 
 I pleased myself with making a great many people speak 
 your name, till one of them said, ' I canna think wot's 
 the matter wi ' the mon ; he made us aw say the same 
 thing. Mayhop the man's a foo.' Now all that was 
 the matter with me, was, that I loved you, and it 
 quite pleased me to hear your name when I so little 
 expected it. 
 
 ''On Thursday last I saw a gentleman and a lady 
 mount up in a balloon, a mile high into the air, and 
 after sailing there near an hour, they came down again 
 quite safe. On Saturday I went to see the finest church 
 in all England. It is more beautiful than all the 
 churches I ever saw put together. To-day I have visited 
 the wonderful dropping-well of Knaresborough, which 
 petrifies, after a time, whatever it touches. To-morrow 
 I am going to see one of the finest ruins in the kingdom. 
 Fountains Abbey. Look at your map, it is near Eipon 
 in Yorkshire. This day I received a most beautiful 
 letter from the Eussian Princess, Sophia Metcshersky, of 
 St. Petersburgh. I think I never had so pretty a letter. 
 
LETTEES FROM HIS FATHEE. 177 
 
 What makes it so pretty ? It is because it is about Jesus 
 Christ. Nothing is good, or right, or pretty without him. 
 Se only is altogether lovely. 
 
 " I hope both your leg and your lesson go on well. 
 
 If they dO; you must thank Mr. C for the one, and 
 
 Mr. Gr (to whom give my lovO;) for the other, and 
 
 God for both. 
 
 *' Last night; at ten o'clock, I saw the Aurora Bo- 
 realis, like a white rainbow stretching all over the sky. 
 On Monday I went to see the iron -founders make 
 cannon. They melted the iron in a huge hot furnace ; 
 it ran out along the ground like a little river of liquid 
 fire — very terrific ! 
 
 ^'I have picked up many curious stones for the 
 museum. God bless you, my little boy, and God bless 
 Henry. Tell him I love him, and I hope he loves me. 
 Kiss all your brothers and sisters for me, and tell them 
 all to be very good. Behave well to dear mamma and 
 
 Mr. G , and so good bye, 
 
 From your loving papa, 
 
 L. ElCHMOND." 
 
 The following letter is of later date : — 
 
 ** London. 
 
 " * * * Your dear mamma has 
 
 evidently improved in health by her visit to town, 
 which I therefore feel it right to lengthen, that by free- 
 dom for a time from domestic labours and hourly 
 anxieties, she may, if God pleases, be the better enabled 
 to continue her numerous attentions to you and her 
 other children at home. You know her great value to 
 us all, and the day to which you allude will stand as a 
 lasting memorial to us of the loving-kindness of God. 
 
 " On Tuesday last I went to Carlton Palace, with 
 four hundred graduates of the University of Cambridge, 
 
178 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 to present an address of congratulation to the Prince 
 Regent on the marriage of his daughter. It was a fine 
 sight, and the splendour of the rooms surprised me. 
 We walked through St. James's street and Pall Mall, 
 two and two, in very long procession, all dressed in the 
 various university robes. The Duke of Gloucester, one 
 archbishop, and nine bishops, went first, all the rest 
 in scarlet, blue and gold, blue and silver, black and 
 gold, black gowns, &c. An immense collection of car- 
 riages, and people on foot, filled the streets to see the 
 procession, which occupied three quarters of the length 
 of Pall Mall. We passed through seven grand and 
 princely chambers, till at length we reached the last, 
 in which the Eegent, seated on his throne, received us. 
 The Duke of Gloucester delivered the address, to which 
 the Prince made a handsome reply. We all succes- 
 sively made our obeisances, and after remaining a short 
 time to inspect the beauty and grandeur of the different 
 state apartments, we returned, as we came, to a cold 
 collation provided for the members of the university. 
 The Prince was surrounded by all the great officers of 
 state, and the whole effect was imposing and superb. 
 But fine and entertaining as was this scene of earthly 
 grandeur, what is a palace compared to a cottage, if the 
 grace of God is in one and not in the other ? Earthly 
 greatness is but dust, and will return to dust. Grace 
 alone will outlive it ; and then what a place will 
 heaven be to those who are made kings and priests for ever. 
 
 " I have been to see the great panorama of Waterloo. 
 It is finely painted, but a very terrible exhibition. I 
 think nothing on earth so dreadful as the murder, fury, 
 confusion, pain, and suffering of a battle. Even the 
 picture fills me with sadness and horror. 
 
 "I have also seen a panorama of Jerusalem, very 
 inferior as a painting, but very interesting to my mind, 
 as pourtraying the place where Jesus Christ taught and 
 
LETTERS FROM HIS FATHER. 179 
 
 sometimes lived in tlie days of his flesh. I stood upon 
 the mount of Olives, and looked around me on Mount 
 Zion, Gethsemane, Calvary, Bethany, the valley of 
 Jehoshaphat, the brook Kedron, the pool of Bethesda, 
 the wilderness, &c. &c. The ideas which arose in my 
 mind affected me deeply. I was moved to tendernesg 
 and tears, as I looked back in thought upon years that 
 are past, and events with which is associated all that is 
 most dear to the Christian. And would they not, my 
 dear boy, have touched your heart ? 
 
 'I am requested to preach an electrical sermon — 
 that is, a sermon in behalf of a charitable institution, 
 called the Electrical Dispensary, for administering me- 
 dical electricity to the poor. Some of the patients 
 appear to be in a very wretched condition. Out of 7800 
 persons, 3000 have been cured, 4000 greatly benefitted, 
 and 800 discharged without receiving any advantage 
 from this kind of treatment. I have been thinking that 
 this will be a very suitable text, "GrOD is light." 
 Our greatest gratification has been derived from attend- 
 ing the public meetings of the religious and benevolent 
 institutions. One, and sometimes two, are held in a 
 day. It is an unspeakable delight to see with our eyes, 
 and hear with our ears, what God is so manifestly and 
 so mercifully bringing to pass, by the exertions of so 
 many valuable societies 
 
 '' Tell G to take care that all the usual and 
 
 necessary preparations be made for the club anniversary 
 on Whit-Friday. We hope to be in our places that 
 day. Et jam vale, charissimie puer ; memor esto Dei 
 omnipresentis, et patris nunc absentis, et matris tuaa 
 tenerrima3 pretiosissimse, delectissim^e. Te ipsum cum 
 fratribus sororibusque in votus habemus. Ora pro nobis, 
 era. Iterum iterumque vale. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. KiCHMOND." 
 
180 LIFE OF WILBERFOECE RICHMOND. 
 
 Wilberforce inherited his father's taste for the beauties 
 of nature. In Mr. R.'s memoranda I find a list of more 
 than thirty places of natural magnificence, which he 
 visited with his son, and reference made to conversations 
 and mutual delight, in a survey of the works of God. 
 I regret that my guide has' only left me traces of his 
 footsteps in the following notes : — 
 
 ''His first visit to Matlock, at four years old, his 
 ecstacy and remarks, even then, on natural scenery. 
 
 " Yisited &c. &c. &c. ; his admiration and delight 
 while he stood lost in thought, and mused over this 
 exquisite scenery. 
 
 '' Minerals of the Bible — his acquaintance with their 
 character — his affectionate disposition — his conduct and 
 feelings on the report of Kugent's death." 
 
 In the same paper he notes : 
 
 " His strict and honourable conduct — exempt from 
 many of the vices common to his age — his confidential 
 faithfulness — disposition to fastidiousness — mourned 
 over in his last illness," &c. 
 
 The following letter to a companion is the only one 
 of this character I shall offer the reader. It will appear 
 how completely Mr. K. had succeeded in transfusing 
 his own spirit and principle into the mind of his beloved 
 "Wilberforce. 
 
 ' Dear 
 
 'I know nothing which I remember with more 
 pleasure than the hours we have spent together in do- 
 mestic music. I shall sever regret the time I have 
 given to music, when I consider its tendency to attach 
 us to our delightful homes. We have indeed passed 
 many happy hours together, none happier than those 
 under your own roof. -J?- -Js- ^ I have been delighted 
 with the scenery of Scotland. I have never seen any 
 thing which has given me such an idea of the wisdom 
 
LETTER TO A FRIEND. ' 181 
 
 and power of tlie Creator. I do indeed admire the 
 rugged grandeur of the mountains, and the wild beauty 
 of the heath, but I still admire our own fertile plains; 
 * * -^ * and after all, no country can be so 
 pleasant to us as that to which we have been endeared 
 from our earliest infancy. Most anxiously, then, do I 
 wish once more to enjoy with you the sight of our na- 
 tive village, with the river wandering peacefully through 
 the green meadows, and to revisit the scenes of our 
 boyish recollections. * -5^ * * I -v^ras greatly pleased 
 with my visit to London. The greatest treat was the 
 British Museum. The minerals are so exquisite, so 
 beyond conception beautiful and interesting. There is 
 a very fine Museum in Glasgow, and some beautiful 
 specimens of minerals in it. It has just received the 
 addition of a live rattle-snake, which nses its tail in 
 tremendous style, and when disturbed is ready to re- 
 venge an affront. * ^^ I shall probably astonish the 
 Scotchmen soon with the peculiarity and beauty of my 
 visage, for the hair-dresser, (Vho cuts and curls my 
 hair in the last Parisian fashion') assures me that in a 
 very short time, I must have my head shaved, and ex- 
 change a few straggling locks for a wig. My pate will 
 look like a lump of coxcomb iron pyrites." 
 
 I would not weary my readers by dwelling on the 
 early character of Wilberforce, or detain him from 
 details of higher interest : the particulars I have men- 
 tioned serve to show, that true piety is perfectly com- 
 patible with all that is innocent and rational in our 
 pursuits and recreations: that it cannot fairly be 
 ascribed to mere dulness or morbid sensibility, and that 
 it is not necessary to denounce a devout and heavenly 
 spirit, in order to establish a claim to a superiority of 
 sense or refinement. 
 
 I will now pursue the memoir into narrations more 
 
 16 
 
182 LIFE OF WILBEEFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 immediatelj connected with my purpose; tlie illustra- 
 tion of Mr. K.'s peculiar method in the religious educa- 
 tion of his children, and the success which attended his 
 unremitted and conscientious discharge of the duties of 
 a Christian parent. 
 
 When Wilberforce was a little child, his father, aware 
 of the vast importance of early associations, accustomed 
 him to habits of religion, even before he had a capacity 
 to understand or value them. He consecrated to God 
 his whole family in daily prayers : the infant in arms was 
 present as a worshipper : it might at first disturb the 
 order of the family devotion, but it soon learned silence, 
 and seemed pleased with the group before it. So long 
 as it could not speak, he spoke for it ; he would hold it 
 in his arms, saying, "God be gracious to thee, my son." 
 When Wilberforce could scarcely lisp in accents of 
 prayer or praise, Mr. E. composed the following little 
 piece, to be committed to memory, and repeated to his 
 mamma every evening. In these simple lines, nothing 
 more was aimed at than a suitable vehicle of instruction 
 to an infant mind. It breathes the same devout, tender, 
 and affectionate spirit which pervades Mr. E.'s other 
 productions. 
 
 WILBERFORCe's evening ADDRES3 TO MAMMA. 
 
 Mamma, 'tis Jesus loves my soul, 
 And makes the wounded sinner whole j 
 My nature is by sin defiled. 
 Yet Jesus loves a little child. 
 
 Iknowmy temper is not right, 
 I'm often fretful, scold, and fight : 
 I would like him be meek and mild, 
 For Jesus loves a little child. 
 
 How kind is Jesus ! oh, how good 1 
 For my poor soul he shed his blood} 
 For children's sake he was reviled, 
 Yet Jesus loves a little child. 
 
LIKES ON HIS BIRTH- DAY. 183 
 
 When I offend you by my tongue, 
 And say and do what 's very wrong, 
 Oh ! pray mamma, be reconciled. 
 For Jesus loves your little child. 
 
 Ho teaches me to shed a tear, 
 Whene'er I grieve a friend so dear : 
 But though I am so thoughtless, wild, 
 Yet Jesus loves the little child. 
 
 To me may Jesus now impart. 
 Although so young, a gracious heart ; 
 Alas ; I 'm oft by sin defiled. 
 Yet Jesus loves the little child. 
 
 And I love him, for he loves me. 
 And hope his faithful child to be ; 
 The Sinner's friend he's justly styled, 
 And Jesus loves your little child. 
 
 The following letter to his little boy on his birth- day 
 is of the same character. 
 
 It was early this morn, as I waked from my rest, 
 
 An unusual emotion sprung up in my breast, 
 
 The occasion of this do you wish to be told ? 
 
 'Tis my little boy's birth day — he 's just four years old. 
 
 Foolish father ! cries one, is this all you can say, 
 Is this to disturb all your feelinga to-day ? 
 Yes — and were you a father, you would not feel cold, 
 On your little boy's birth-day, when just four years old. 
 
 Old maidens and bach'Iors who no children have, 
 Your patience I ask, for your pardon I crave, 
 While this child to my heart I so warmly enfold, 
 On the little boy's birth-day, who 's just four years old. 
 
 Ye mothers, who clasp your dear babes in your arms. 
 And watch o'er their youth with a thousand alarms. 
 Set yours down for one instant, my child to behold, 
 'Tis the little boy 's birth-day, he 's just four years old. 
 
184 LIFE OF WILBEEFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 Ye that doat on your own lads can feel for another's, 
 And bear with the fondness of fathers and mothers, 
 I invite your attendance, so deem it not bold, 
 'Tis the little boy's birth-day, he 's just four years old. ■• 
 
 He can prattle and talk, with a sweet little smile, 
 Which my heaviest moments will often beguile ; 
 So I value him more than ten millions twice told : 
 'Tis my little boy's birth-day, he 's just four years old. 
 
 Dear wife, on whose breast the dear babe hung so long, 
 Shall my muse on this day forget thee in her song ? 
 Come and kiss the poor lad, and rejoice to be told, 
 'Tis your little boy's birth-day, he 's just four years old. 
 
 My sweet boy I I 've been writing these verses for you, 
 They show more of the father than poet, 'tis true I 
 Yet in spite of the critics papa will be bold. 
 Little boy 'tis your birth- day, you 're just four years old. 
 
 May the biasing of God, in abundance poured down, 
 Give thee grace while on earth, and in glory a crown ; 
 As thou growest in years, may thy virtues unfold, 
 'Tis my prayer on thy birth-day, when just four years old. 
 
 The incidents of cliildliood are seldom interesting 
 beyond the family circle, neither can mnch reliance be 
 placed on early appearances of piety, untried by temp- 
 tation. It may be well to cherish every holy emotion 
 in our children ; to water and cultivate the tender 
 plant committed to our care ; but until influence and 
 impression is succeeded by principle and the choice of 
 the mind, we may rejoice in the buddings of divine 
 life, but we must not indulge in too sanguine expecta- 
 tions. The sceptical tendencies of Wilberforce's mind 
 in childhood, are by no means of rare occurrence at 
 that age ; for infidelity, notwithstanding its arrogant 
 pretensions to superiority, is the vulgar weed that grows 
 in every soil, and withers before the sunshine of clearer 
 information ; a little knowledge may help to an objec- 
 
HIS PREFERENCE FOR THE MINISTRY. 185 
 
 tion, when diligent and serious inquiry will discover its 
 futility. 
 
 There is one note in Mr. Eichmond's papers, which 
 refers to Wilberforce's conduct and feelings on receiving 
 the report of his brother's death. It is probable that 
 he shared his father's anguish in that mournful event — 
 uncertain as they both were of Nugent's spiritual wel- 
 fare, and fearing the worst from all that was then 
 known of his past conduct. They had heard nothing 
 of those satisfactory testimonies to his conversion, which 
 afterwards cheered and relieved their minds. A concern 
 for the everlasting welfare of another, is no small 
 evidence of our own sincerity in the pursuit of eternal 
 life ; and I have no doubt that '\yilberforce had, at that 
 time, made a progress in true religion, greater than his 
 extreme reserve warranted his friends to conclude. 
 His respect for piety, the deep attention with which he 
 listened to instruction, the satisfaction* which he dis- 
 played in communicating to others what he seemed to 
 understand himself, and his uniform good conduct and 
 general conformity to the habits of a religious family, 
 induced his father to hope " all was well with him ; " 
 though he was too deeply impressed with the infinite 
 value and necessity of a deep and real conversion to 
 God, to rest satisfied with any thing short of a full and 
 explicit declaration on the part of his child. 
 
 Wilberforce had ever expressed a decided preference 
 for the ministry, which rendered it, in Mr. E.'s judg- 
 ment, the more necessary that he should possess a piety 
 the most decided and unequivocal. To become by pro- 
 fession an ambassador for God to a guilty world, without 
 credentials, was justly regarded by him as a profane 
 intrusion into an office of immense responsibility ; and 
 he has been heard to say, that ' he would rather follow 
 
 16* 
 
1 6 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 lii;^ son to the grave, than see liim in the church without 
 being fitted for such a sacred office.'^ 
 
 The sentiments of both will be best expressed in the 
 following correspondence. The first letter was written 
 from Stockport, in Lancashire, when Wilberforce was 
 eleven years old. 
 
 " Deae Willy, 
 
 " Are you indeed a good boy during my absence ? 
 Shall I have no cause for heart-ache on my return, 
 when I ask how my child has behaved? How he has 
 obeyed his mamma? How he has attended to his 
 lessons ? How he has submitted to his sister's instruc- 
 tions? How he has conducted himself towards Mr. 
 
 Gr ? How he has adhered to truth in his words ? 
 
 How he has set H — ^ a good example ? Shall I be 
 comforted with the glad tidings, that your heart, and 
 your conscience, and your ways, all seem to partake of 
 a happy influence ? that you throw away all indolence 
 of mind or body? that you actively pursue -learning 
 and gain it ? that your brother improves every day 
 through the effect of your good behaviour? that you 
 seldom or ever quarrel, snap, or snarl at him ? that you 
 pray to God to forgive your sins and hourly offences ? 
 Shall I be told that you have prepared a happy return 
 home for papa, by his hearing all this good of you, 
 when he comes back ? Do the four walls of your little 
 chamber bear witness to your prayers and supplications 
 for yourself and me ? Do the sun's rays, as they early 
 penetrate your window in the morning, find you active 
 
 * The expression of Mr. Richmond is a strong one, though in perfect unison 
 with the sentiments and feelings of the Editor. Mr. R. must not, however, be 
 mistaken, as if he connected his child's death with eternal consequences. 
 There cannot be a doubt that he intended to say, he should feel the death of 
 his child a less afflicting dispensation than his profaning a holy ordinance, and, 
 by ignorance or neglect, involving immortal souls in everlasting destruction. 
 
LETTER FROM HIS FATHER. 187 
 
 to rise, to read, to labour, and to grow in grace ? '■^' '^ 
 'X- * -:f 'jr -x- J have seen some beautiful counties 
 since I left you. Staffordshire is full of beauty. Lich- 
 field cathedral too, which, though much smaller than 
 York Minster, is a very fine building; I attended 
 divine service there, the organ notes rolled sublimely 
 along the vaulted arches, pillars, and roof. The exqui- 
 sitely-painted windows assimilated to the sounds, and 
 rendered the effect most enchanting. The spires are 
 beautiful, and large sums have been laid out in repairing 
 and restoring them. 
 
 " One evening I travelled with a friend in a gig for 
 three hours, amidst the never-ceasing distant lightning. 
 The whole western hemisphere was in a constant blaze. 
 The flashes alternated from one point of the horizon to 
 another, distant about forty -five degrees from each other ; 
 sometimes the flashes were silvery, sometimes yellow, 
 then orange colour; one while sheet-like, and again so 
 vivid, that we seemed to have a peep into more distant 
 regions of space : then more faint ; now and then we 
 heard slight rumblings ; then all was silent again. At 
 one point the flashes gleamed on the ruins of a distant 
 castle, which appeared all on fire; a dark forest lay 
 behind, and it formed a fine contrast. Sometimes the 
 forked flashes pursued one another in a kind of playful 
 progress ; at others they dashed at each other as if in 
 terrible combat ; all this past between seven and ten in 
 the evening. 
 
 ''But what are these lightnings, compared with those 
 which made Moses quake and tremble on Mount Sinai ; 
 or what were even these, contrasted with the lightnings 
 of God's wrath against sinners ? These appearances of 
 nature are striking emblems of divine justice. You 
 have need to flee from the wrath to come. Eepent ! for 
 the kingdom of heaven is at hand. The wicked and all 
 the people that forget God, shall be turned into hell. 
 
188 LIFE OF WILBEEFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 Dear Willj, if you forget him, what will be your por- 
 tion? If you say that you do not forget him, how do 
 you prove it ? 
 
 Video meliora proboque 
 Deteriora sequor, 
 
 is the character of too many nominal Christians; — I 
 would not have it to be yours ; an enlightened uncon- 
 verted mind ; with eyes and tongue to approve what is 
 right, but the feet walking in the paths of evil. A 
 converted heart will alone enable you to follow his 
 steps, who is, ' the way, the truth, and the life.' 
 
 " I sincerely hope that you are beginning to be truly 
 sensible of the evil and danger of sin, and the necessity 
 of seeking God betimes. Occasional indispositions 
 should remind you, that you may never arrive at man's 
 estate. If you are to die a boy, you must look for a 
 boy's religion, a boy's knowledge, a boy's faith, a boy's 
 Saviour, a boy's salvation ; or else a boy's ignorance, 
 a boy's obstinacy, a boy's unbelief, a boy's idolatry, a 
 boy's destruction. Kemember all this, and beware of 
 sin; above all, dread the sinfulness of an estranged 
 heart. Pray for a new one ; pray for grace and pardon, 
 and a soul conformed to the image of Christ ; pray for 
 wisdom, for the destruction of pride, vain conceit, and 
 self-sufSciency. Be not slothful in business, but fervent 
 in spirit, serving the Lord. Friends here inquire after 
 you, in the full hope that you are going on well, 
 creditably, obediently, industriously, humbly and Chris- 
 tianly. Love to all, from 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 What reply was made by Wilberforce to this letter 
 does not appear : his repugnance to a free and unre- 
 
LETTER TO HIS FATnER. l89 
 
 served communication on the subject of personal religion 
 seems not to have been overcome till nearly four years 
 after, though his anxious father longed to elicit some- 
 thing on this point more satisfactory than could be 
 collected from a general acquiescence in the opinions 
 and habits of the family. A letter written by Wilber- 
 force to his father in 1821, discloses a mind under the 
 influence of more distinct views, and stronger feelings, 
 breaking through the fetters of natural reserve. 
 
 "My dear Father, 
 "You will believe me, when I say, that I entirely 
 and most thoroughly agree with you, 'that it is time 
 we should communicate frequently, intimately, and 
 confidentially.' I feel very thankful that you have 
 so plainly declared your thoughts and determinations 
 concerning me ; I know my inability to answer you in 
 the way you wish, but I rejoice in an opportunity of 
 telling you what my thoughts have been and still are, in 
 respect of the most important subject of your inquiry. 
 I deeply regret that a false shame has hitherto deterred 
 me from an open avowal of my sentiments and feelings. 
 I will honestly confess to you, that I have never 
 seriously considered the subject of the ministry till 
 within the last few months. Brought up from my 
 infancy, with the expectation of becoming a clergyman, 
 and accustomed as I have been to think and speak of 
 it as my future profession, I have been little aware of 
 the difficulty, and have not sufficiently considered the 
 responsibility of the office, which I hoped would one day 
 be mine. You know how much this prospect has 
 pleased me all through my childhood. I have had 
 many fears and alarms about my sinful state, but they 
 soon faded away. The impression has never been per- 
 manent till dear little Atherton died. At that time it' 
 Dleased God to awaken in me a deeper sense of my 
 
190 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 dangerous condition, and I prayed very earnestly tliat 
 God would pardon my sins for Christ Jesus' sake, and 
 that the Holy Spirit would renew my heart. Then I 
 fell into another error; for I began to trust myself 
 instead of the Saviour. I thought I was now proof 
 against temptation, and had the presumption to suppose 
 myself fit for the ministry. But I was awfully deceived. 
 There arose soon after in my mind many doubts of the 
 authenticity of the Scriptures. Wherever I went, or 
 whatever I was doing, these doubts haunted me. I 
 found that I could not, I dared not pray. At first I 
 repulsed these suggestions with horror, but they 
 gradually laid so fast hold of me, that they destroyed 
 all my peace. When engaged in my studies, that which 
 was often ascribed to idleness, was really occasioned by 
 the state of my mind, which was so perplexed that I 
 could not attend. to other things ; even my pleasures were 
 damped by uneasiness. I have no doubt that if I had 
 been in some situations, I should have become a deter- 
 mined infidel. I tremble, dear papa, while I write 
 thus ; and when I look back and think of my situation 
 at that time, I cannot feel sufficiently thankful that my 
 life was spared, and that I was not cut off from God for 
 ever. I found that I had trusted in my own strength, 
 that I had neglected prayer, and while I continued in 
 that neglect, I could not reasonably expect the removal 
 of these distressing searchings of heart. It was with 
 some difficulty I could bring myself on my knees again. 
 I was fearful that" God would not hear me. But I read 
 the Bible for encouragement, and I found it there. By 
 continual prayer I was directed to the means of relief, 
 and I have not been troubled with one more doubt since 
 that time. Indeed, I cailnot but believe that the death 
 of our poor little Atherton was blest to me. It affected 
 me more than any conversation or other event, and more 
 than any one knew ; I have never lost the impression. 
 
LETTER TO HIS FATHEE. 191 
 
 " Yet I cannot feel comfortable in becoming a minister 
 of Christ in my present state of mind. My conscience 
 would be nneasy, if I presumed to fill an office, whose 
 functions are so far above my ability or piety ; but I 
 earnestly pray that Grod may give me such a measure of 
 his gracC; as may in some degree fit me to become an 
 unworthy, but true servant of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 ' Having now freely and confidentially told you what 
 has been passing in my mind, I lie in your hands, and 
 trust you will pardon any error of expression or sentiment 
 which may appear in my letter, and that you will correct 
 whatever you see wrong in me. Eeceive, my dear papa, 
 my confidence, as the strongest mark of affection and 
 gratitude which can be given by your affectionate, but 
 unworthy son, 
 
 WiLBEEFORCE." 
 
 I have no documents by which to trace the progress 
 of this interesting boy during an interval of nearly two 
 years. Able and pious tutors attended to his improve- 
 ment in literature, and by their conversation and 
 example, aided his progress in religion ; which, though 
 still of a reserved character, was doubtless sincere and 
 increasing. 
 
 In 1823, Mr. Richmond was in Glasgow, from whence 
 he wrote to his son as follows : 
 
 "My veey deae Wilbeefoece, 
 "I am very glad that Hartwell Home proves so 
 acceptable to you. •» -x- * * 
 
 I cannot express my anxieties on your account, both 
 as they respect your Christian principles, and your 
 future prospects as connected with the ministry. We 
 must indeed become still more communicative and 
 confidential, or the burden of my heart will become 
 heavier than I can bear. It has Ions: been the first 
 
192 LIFE OF WILIiEEFOECE E I C H M O N D. 
 
 wish of my mind, that you should be a minister of the 
 gospel; but only, and entirely, and unequivocally, 
 without partiality and without hypocrisy as your 
 personal character, experience, and determination, 
 might be formed on a serious, affectionate, conscientious, 
 and prayerful foundation. I want to see my beloved boy 
 first a true Christian, and then a true minister. Oh I 
 may God hear my prayers on this subject. For this 
 I cry day and night, — and unworthy as I am of such a 
 blessing, yet I will trust him for it, and I would wrestle 
 like Jacob until I attain it. But you must wrestle too, 
 yea, and with all your heart, all your mind, all your 
 soul, and all your strength. You must study your own 
 heart : you should not only study the scriptures, but 
 keep in reading some searching experimental book as a 
 bosom companion. A love' of such reading, — at least 
 no alienation from it, proves a useful test of character. 
 * '^" * * I am glad to 
 
 hear you give yourself more regularly an(^ resolutely to 
 study. I have often had fears of indolence and inac- 
 tivity, those banes of all progress, proficiency, and 
 hope. I shall indeed rejoice to find that the bonds are 
 broken. ^- ^- ^- * * 
 
 Theology itself, important as are its themes and com- 
 munications, sinks into mere science or literary 
 attainments, unless founded upon, and accompanied by 
 a devotional and affectionate application of its principles 
 to the soul. 
 
 " It is much easier to be a divine than a Christian, — 
 an ecclesiastic, than a pastor. You may be little aware 
 how much more truth and wisdom dwell in some 
 cottages and hearts at Turvey, than in many a house, 
 and in many a mind, in which superior advantages 
 seem to prevail, and even where real religion is known 
 and respected. I long for the day when you and I may 
 not only comfortably and confidently converse on these 
 
LETTERS FROM II IS FATHER. 193 
 
 subjects, on things whicli belong to our everlasting 
 peace, our prospects in time and eternity ; but when 
 you may take such a share in my private parochial 
 intercourse with the parishoners, as may leave no 
 doubt of your being one with us. But then it must be 
 previously manifest that you are coiisistent and in 
 earnest, that you have not only put away childish 
 follies and faults, but are living, and not ashamed to 
 live, under the influence of higher principles. I want 
 you to aid me effectually in the instruction of poor 
 children, in visiting the sick, in conversing with the 
 poor. If you are to be a minister, you should now 
 commence your seven years' apprenticeship to the holy 
 oflS.ce. But then, your conduct must be uniform, simple, 
 consistent. The reproach of the cross must in some 
 measure be encountered, and the love of Christ in the 
 heart put to some satisfactory test. Think of these 
 things, and write to me about them. Let me have 
 the comfort of knowing more of your mind. Our pre- 
 sent interval of separation may be a time of much 
 salutary communication. I would say, in the language 
 of Solomon, " My son, give me thy heart ; " but first 
 give it to God. You are arrived at an age when many 
 dangerous temptations will assail you, and you will be 
 put to the proof whether, your heart is right with God ;' 
 and if you are thrown upon the world and its seduc- 
 tions, more than, happily, has hitherto been needed or 
 sought, you will find indeed that it lieth in wickedness, 
 multiplied, subtle, and appalling. May you, my dear 
 son, be preserved in your youth, and when old, never 
 wander from the way in which you have been trained 1 
 "You must, in a very especial manner, consider the 
 daily influence of your temper, conduct and conversa- 
 tion upon your brothers and sisters. An elder brother 
 is usually the blessing or the curse of a household. 
 Yuu never knew, or will know, what I suffered on poor 
 
 17 
 
194 LIFE OF WILBEEFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 Nugent's account; but God has, I trust, in mercy 
 over-ruled for eventual good, what seemed to threaten 
 nought but evil. May the course of your youth be 
 very different, and may you contribute to heal the 
 remains of former wounds inflicted on my parental 
 feelings. 
 
 " "Write soon ; for letters are long in coming to me. 
 Give a very affectionate message to my much-loved 
 parishoners, and assure them how closely I bear them 
 on my heart's remembrance. Love to all. God bless 
 you, my dear children ; yes, God bless you all ! There 
 is a certain store of love in this house, from which is 
 drawn a respectable portion to be conveyed to Turvey. 
 Take it, and use it well. Assemble the brotherhood and 
 sisterhood, and kiss them in their succession, telling 
 them it is a proxy from one who loves them well, and 
 that one is their affectionate father, 
 
 Legh Kichmond." 
 
 The following extract, which connects this corre- 
 spondence, was written by Wilberforce to his father 
 in the same year, and during the same journey to 
 Scotland. 
 
 " * * * * I have thought and 
 
 considered a great deal on the contents of your last 
 letter; I read it, I assure you, with many tears, but 
 they were tears of love to you, and of sorrow that I fall 
 so far short of your wishes and reasonable expectations. 
 You say you wish me first to be a true Christian, and 
 then a true minister; believe me, when I say, that 
 though it is the first, the nearest, and the dearest wish 
 of my heart, I would not have a desire, not the slightest 
 desire, of entering the church in an unfit state of mind. 
 I would rather engage in the meanest occupation of 
 life than be a disgrace to the religion of Christ, by 
 entering into the holy profession, while I am unfit for 
 
LETTERS FROM HIS FATHER. 195 
 
 it. When I look at tlie apostles of old, and mark how 
 full they were of love to Christ and their fellow-crea- 
 tures; or when I look to good men of our own day, 
 who tread in their steps, I shrink from assuming a 
 profession for which I cannot but know myself most 
 unworthy. I am conscious of being a great sinner, and 
 I seem to myself utterly incompetent to be more than a 
 humble disciple in the church of God. But I know 
 that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin, and 
 that his Spirit can enable me, sinful as I am, to love and 
 serve him. I have much to be thankful for. I ought to 
 be thankful that I am permitted to think about these 
 things. At times I have felt very happy in prayer and 
 reading the Scriptures. My joy has been such, that I 
 seemed ready not only to love God, but even to give up 
 all the world for his sake; then again the cares and 
 pleasures of life have laid hold of me, and sunk me into 
 sorrow. 
 
 '' Pray for me, my dear father, that my wavering mind 
 may be fixed in the paths of truth, and may choose that 
 better part, which, when once obtained, shall never be 
 taken away from me; and may God direct me to that 
 profession of life, in which I may most promote his glory, 
 and my own good, and that of my fellow-creatures." 
 
 The following year Wilberforce was attacked with a 
 dangerous illness which terminated in his death. 
 
 Mr. Eichmond did not, on this occasion, imitate the 
 worldly prudence of some persons who labour to con- 
 ceal from the patient the danger of their state, and with 
 a mistaken kindness prohibit the introduction of reli- 
 gious subjects, from fear of aggravating the disorder. 
 With a heart alive to the eternal interests of his child, 
 he addressed to him the following letters. May the 
 perusal of them afford an instructive lesson to all who 
 are placed under similar circumstances, and teach them 
 
196 LIFE OF WILBKRFOKCE RICHMOND. 
 
 never to forget that " one thing is needful " for others, 
 as well as for themselves ; and that the wisdom which 
 would endeavour to save the perishing body at the risk 
 of the immortal soul, is an act of treachery the more 
 criminal, in proportion as its consequences are irre- 
 parable and eternal ! 
 
 " Turvey, June 12th, 1824. 
 ''My dear Boy, 
 ' I have, as I mentioned to you the other day, for 
 some time wished to press upon your attention the 
 important subject of the Lord's Supper ; and, as in the 
 case of each of your sisters, I found that an epistolary 
 correspondence afforded a liberty and facility of com- 
 munication in the first instance. I trust you will not 
 object to adopting a similar mode. A time of relaxation 
 from your studies, and of indisposition, may afford you 
 a good opportunity for such a purpose. It will be 
 exceedingly gratifying to me to receive some simple, 
 faithful account of your state of mind, views, feelings, 
 and desires in connection with the privilege and duty of 
 commemorating the dying love of Christ to sinners. I 
 wish to receive you at the table of our Lord, both as 
 your affectionate father in the flesh, and your still hap- 
 pier father in the Spirit, with principles enlightened, 
 and heart warmed with a Saviour's mercies. Approach 
 me thus, my beloved son, and write to me with a free, 
 confidential heart. I feel the most lively interest in 
 your spiritual welfare, far beyond what my ordinary 
 manner may betray. You are arrived at an age, when 
 I wish you to become my bosom friend and companion 
 in all things, but above all, in those things which belong 
 to your everlasting peace. I have sometimes feared 
 that other subjects have somewhat monopolized your 
 thoughts ; and yet I have the firmest hope that your 
 mind is truly sensible of the value and importance of 
 
LETTERS FROM HIS FATHER, 197 
 
 divine things. I trust you are constant in prayer, and 
 that your affections are unfeignedly directed towards 
 divine truth. I cannot express to you how much this 
 belief comforts and strengthens my mind, It is allied 
 to every feeling and wish which I have so long and so 
 anxiously cherished, in regard to your future character 
 as a minister of the gospel of Christ. None but God 
 knows how intense my solicitude has been upon that 
 point. It is high time that you should, by the open act 
 of communion, devote yourself to the Eedeemer's ser- 
 vice, and look upon it as a pledge for your inward 
 principles, and 'outward practice. You should atten- 
 tively examine the sacramental service in the Liturgy, 
 and always have a book of experimental and devotional 
 character more or less in private reading. It must ever 
 be kept in remembrance, that the mere literary dis- 
 cussional study of theology, however valuable and 
 needful, is a distinct thing from the affectionate work 
 of the heart, in the exercises of the conscience in the 
 soul. I am earnest that my dear child should enjoy all 
 the privileges of the church of Christ, and adorn them. 
 Search for the evidences of a renewed heart daily ; come 
 as a lost, undone sinner, and may you taste that the 
 Lord is gracious. Beware of the world's temptations 
 and levities. "We should all feel that time is short, and 
 eternity at hand, and be prepared accordingly. The 
 regular partaking of the Lord's Supper, when rightly 
 viewed, has a tendency to cherish the best affections of 
 the soul, and to preserve both young and old from the 
 dangerous delusions of the world, the flesh, and Satan. 
 Let the communication of these thoughts excite you to 
 self-examination, meditation and prayer. My love and 
 regard for you are great indeed ; my own heart is wrapt 
 up in the prosperity of yours. May all your studies 
 be sanctified to the glory of God. May you noiu enjoy 
 
 a portion of these pleasures, which are at God's right 
 
 17* 
 
198 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 hand for evermore. — 'The blood of Christ cleanseth 
 from all sin.' How delightful a thought for you and 
 for 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 Legh Eichmond." 
 
 ''TuTvey, June 22nd, 1824. 
 '' My very dear Child, 
 "I present you with this book, for the express pur- 
 pose of your keeping a journal and diary, not merely 
 of passing events as they may occur, but of the thoughts 
 of youB heart upon divine things. I tjarnestly entreat 
 you to do this : I recommend it from long experience 
 as a most beneficial exercise. It is perfectly secret to 
 yourself and God. No one can ever see it without your 
 own knowledge and consent. But such records have 
 been so useful, so consolatory, and so improving that I 
 may make it my paternal entreaty, that you will com- 
 ply with this request. Suspended in uncertainty with 
 regard to your health and strength, my soul is most 
 anxious for your spiritual good. Trifle not, delay not 
 in this matter. Press forward to the mark and prize erf 
 your high calling. Eeview the past thoughts of your 
 heart — examine the present — anticipate the future. 
 You are in God's hands. I trust the everlasting arms 
 are underneath you. Let me entreat you to open your 
 mind also to me, in frequent correspondence. I cannot 
 express my solicitude for your spiritual welfare. You 
 know all the principles by which a sinner may be 
 saved; you have known them from your infancy ; may 
 they be the ornament of your youth ! May you rest short 
 of nothing but a well-grounded conviction of your per- 
 sonal interest in Christ ! There is a rich provision in 
 him for every possible difficulty and deficiency which 
 can present itself to your thoughts. Oh, how does my 
 heart burn to see you, in every sense of the word, a true 
 
LETTER TO HIS FATHER. 199 
 
 Christian. In a former note I invited you to tlie 
 Lord's table. Happy, tlirice happy shall I be to see 
 yon there, added to the number of the Lord's flock. 
 
 " Since writing the above, I have received yours. I 
 thank you from my heart. G-o on, as your strength 
 and opportunities will allow, by a little at a time ; but 
 give me as much of your thoughts and feelings as you 
 can. Tell me of your past years, and early leadings 
 and convictions; tell me more of those things which 
 you have named in former letters. You cannot oblige 
 me more than by giving me the history of your heart at 
 various periods. I have known too little of you, my 
 dear child. Let that ignorance on my part cease. I 
 have loved you from your birth, and watched over you 
 till now, with the tenderest affection : but I feel my own 
 deficiency in not communing more with you on the state 
 of your mind in the sight of God. Comfort me now by 
 frequent intercourse on these matters. It is the very 
 return of all others which I desire, for all the past 
 anxieties of a father and a minister. May this journey 
 be blessed to you both in soul and body. I trust soon, 
 with God's blessing, to see you again. In the meantime, 
 I commend you to Him, who has all events in his hands, 
 whose consolations are neither few nor small, who gave 
 his Son to die for your sins, and whose compassions fail 
 not. Be much in prayer and self-examination. The 
 God of the waves shall protect and guard you : the God 
 of the land shall comfort you. But seek him aright : 
 trifle not with the great concern. How joyfully shall I 
 welcome you at the Lord's table, if God so will. Adieu 
 for the present, my child, mv friend, and, in Christ, my 
 brother. 
 
 Legii Eichmokd." 
 
 The journey to Scotland, above alluded to, was recom- 
 mended with a view of consulting? Dr. Stewart, whose 
 
200 LIFE OF WILBRRFOKCE RICHMOND. 
 
 method of treating pulmonary diseases was supposed to 
 have succeeded in many Instances. 
 
 The following letter was written immediately after 
 Wilberforce's arrival in Scotland : — 
 
 " Turvey, June 30, 1824. 
 '' My ever dear Son, 
 "I thank you for your letter, and am glad to hear 
 again from Mr. Marshall that you have borne your 
 travels so far well. You are never out of my thoughts, 
 and I follow you in imagination through every scene of 
 your occupation. But there is an eye that beholds and 
 watches over you, in a way that I cannot do. To him 
 I confide and commend you, for sickness and health, for 
 time and eternity. What a word, what a thought, is 
 eternity I What prospects does it set before us I What 
 inconceivable mysteries are involved in it ! How does 
 it make the things of time dwindle into insignificance I 
 But what questions of unspeakable import are involved 
 in it ! Sin, a corrupt nature, a broken law, an offecded 
 God, eternal punishment ; conscience, guilt, regeneration, 
 salvation by Christ, faith, hope, love, free grace, unde- 
 served mercy, justification, effectual calling, adoption 
 into God's family, pardon of sin, consolation in Christ, 
 heaven and glory. These, and a thousand accompani- 
 ments, are all connected with the idea and the reality 
 of eternity. What a sad proof of the depravity of our 
 heart is our indifference towards thinking, and our 
 backwardness towards speaking upon things which be- 
 long to our everlasting peace ; and which, nevertheless, 
 if neglected, involve our eternal ruin. We need warn- 
 ings, and the Lord sends them in many ways. Sickness, 
 pain, bereavements, losses, disappointments, all bring 
 their message with them. The great question between 
 our souls and God is not whether we admit the truths 
 of the Scripture into our understandings, but whether 
 
LETTEK TO HIS FATHEK. 201 
 
 they are so applied to our hearts as to have wrought a 
 change, and hecome vital princijjles of faith and practice. 
 Nothing short of this can afford evidence of a saved and 
 safe condition. There is an action of the sonl by which 
 it rests "upon Christ, and all that he has done, with full 
 confidence; and this produces peace in the conscience. 
 The more we see of ourselves, the more we see our sin ; 
 and the more we see our sin, the more we fly to the 
 death and righteousness of Christ, for pardon, deliver- 
 ance, and hope. "We behold not only his sufiiciency, but 
 his willingness to save the chief of sinners. For this we 
 love him ; and if we love him, we desire and endeavour 
 to keep his commandments; and this is the way of 
 salvation. 
 
 " 1^0 w, does my dear boy view this in all its integrity ? 
 Do the experiences of the past, strengthened by all the 
 variety and succession of instruction which you have 
 from your infancy received, work together to this great 
 end? Can you be satisfied with anything short of this? 
 God forbid ? Let nothing interrupt you in this continual 
 work of self-examination; and let self-examination lead 
 you to earnest and ardent prayer. Let no pursuits of 
 literature, no delights of sense, no passing occurrences, 
 no debility of body, no inferior subjects of recreation, 
 prevent you from keeping your thoughts close to God 
 and to eternity. Great have been your mercies. — may 
 your gratitude be great likewise ! 
 
 '^ Accustomed as I am to close and faithful dealings 
 with my Christian friends and flock, it would ill- become 
 me to be silent or indifierent where my dearly -beloved 
 child is concerned. Sickness gives both you and me a 
 wholesome admonition. I pray God, from the depths of 
 my heart, that we may each of us improve it to our 
 spiritual welfare. God may have great things to accom- 
 plish hereby ; let us believe and hope so. 
 
 " I had much pleasure in showing you London : and, 
 
202 LIF» xjiP WILBERFORCE EICIIMON"D. 
 
 if Providence permit, may yet have more, in viewing tlie 
 fine scenery in your present vicinity along with you: 
 but whether amongst the beauties of art or nature, never, 
 never cease to look for and contemplate the God both of 
 creation or redemption in the midst of all. Keep a con- 
 tinual watch over your disposition, temper, and thoughts. 
 There are not only sins of the temper, but of the under- 
 standing also; and pride in every form, intellectual as 
 well as sensual, must be brought low. 'Learn of me,' 
 said the Saviour, 'for I am meek and lowly of heart.' 
 I write, as I would talk with and pray for you. May 
 this dispensation of the Almighty, which has for the 
 present separated us, and given us cause for much 
 anxiety on ypur account, be a season of much profit to 
 us all! Lay these things to heart; make them the 
 subject of unceasing petition at that throne whence 
 no believing supplicants are ever sent empty away. 
 Wonder not that I cannot rest contented with a 
 superficial religion, but that I look for a dee^y experi- 
 mental life of God in your soul. I place time and eternity 
 before me in holy imagination. I strive, as it were, to 
 penetrate the veil which separates them, and to look 
 earnestly at those things which belong to your and my 
 everlasting peace. Forgive me, my dear child, and may 
 God forgive me, if I have not always and equally pressed 
 these subjects upon your personal attention. They have 
 ever lain near to my heart, and you have had multiplied 
 opportunities of meditating upon them. I trust you 
 have done so. But let me know more and more of your 
 thoughts, past and present. My Christian and parental 
 peace is dependent greatly upon it. I am glad that our 
 friend Dr. Stewart has had so good an opportunity of 
 studying your case. But you are in the Lord's hands. 
 May he overrule every thing for your good. May your 
 confidence be placed only where it is due ; and pray for 
 your father, and your father shall pray for you. Amongst 
 
LETTERS FROM HIS FATTIER. 203 
 
 the books in your travelling library, arc many most 
 valuable authors. Kead, mark^ learn, and inwardly 
 digest what they say, so far as you find time and strength 
 to peruse them. Above all, search the Scriptures, for in 
 them you have eternal life. Your mother sends her 
 entire and most affectionate love to you: your sisters 
 and brothers the same. And what shall I add for my- 
 self? All that is tender, affectionate, parental and 
 Christian. 
 
 From your father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 In the month of July, Mr. Eichmond joined his son 
 in Scotland, using every means for the restoration of 
 his health. During a short interval of separation, he 
 addressed to him another letter, expressive of the same 
 ardent desire for his spiritual welfare, and written in 
 the same delightfnl strain of warm and affectionate 
 feeling. 
 
 "Bradford, Aug. 5, 1824. 
 '' My dear Wilberforce, 
 
 " We have so long been fellow-travellers and pilgrims 
 together, and my eye and my heart have been so long 
 accustomed to watch over you, that- I cannot help 
 wishing to indulge my affectionate feelings by giving 
 a few lines during this short separation; which, short 
 as it has been, never ceases to present my dear boy to 
 imagination and recollection. I have reason to think, 
 and perhaps the fault is my own, that you are but 
 imperfectly aware of my strong and anxiou.s feelings 
 towards you, with respect both to your temporal and 
 spiritual welfare. I sometimes fancy I see this in your 
 manner, and it hurts me. I say little, or probably 
 nothing; but my heart is alive to great sensibilities. 
 Eest assured, ray much-loved child, that at all past 
 periods, but most epecially since it has pleased God 
 
204 LIFE OF WILBERFOECE RICHMOND. 
 
 to put your liealth, and of course with it your life, to so 
 marlvcd a trial, I have not ceased for a single hour (and 
 I can hardly except the dreaming hours of the night,) 
 to make your comfort and prosperity the subject of my 
 prayers and solicitude. When you may least have 
 expected it from my ordinary manner, even my silence 
 has spoken to God in your behalf. Many and deep have 
 been my meditations, as we ascended the hills, and 
 descended the vales of Scotland ; or as we ploughed 
 the waters with ou» prows and paddles. I have often 
 experienced a kind of stupid impotency of utterance, 
 when my heart has been animated and full. You like- 
 wise manifest a sort of reserve on the subject of personal 
 religion, which checks and sometimes chills my rising 
 inclination to more unreserved, free, congenial, and 
 comforting conversation. ' I wish all this to vanish ; 
 and that whatever may be the will of God concerning 
 you, the future days which his providence may permit 
 us mutually to spend together, may be more distinctly 
 marked by free and affectionate communications. But 
 far, far above all, it is my cherished and anxious hope, 
 that you may evince an increasing love to spiritual 
 things, to reading, conversing, and meditating upon the 
 things which belong to your everlasting peace. You 
 have had your warning as to the delicate and precarious 
 tenure by which life, health, and youthful vigor are 
 held. Every day and hour still reminds you of the 
 uncertainty of all things future, so far as this world 
 is concerned. And such warnings are unspeakable 
 mercies, designed by God for the most wise and benevo- 
 lent purposes. 
 
 " The season of amended health, and present suspen- 
 sion of painful and distressing symptoms, is precisely 
 that in which your heart should exercise a peculiar 
 jealousy over itself, lest the comparative trifles of this 
 world, and the ensnaring affections of the ilesh, should 
 
LETTERS FEOM HIS FATHER. 205 
 
 deaden your feelings about the grand questions, ' What 
 are the evidences of my salvation ? AYhat have I done, 
 what must I do to be saved? Other 'studies than those 
 directly religious, may doubtless have their due and 
 subordinate place. Other books than the holy scrip- 
 tures, and their expositions, may also have their 
 moderated share of our attention ; but if any human 
 study, or any human book, have more of our love and 
 attention, than those which directly lead our hearts to 
 God, something must be very wrong. Idols force them- 
 selves upon our notice everywhere, and lawful things may 
 become idols by the abuse of them, and the suffering 
 them to usurp the first place in the heart 's affections. 
 Never be contented with slight and general hopes of all 
 being right within, but seek and strive after clear and 
 particular evidences, that you ^ know whom you have 
 trusted,' for time and eternity. I earnestly entreat you 
 to examine yourself daily on scriptural principles, that 
 you may the more ardently tbrow yourself on the 
 mercy of a covenant God, for the forgiveness of your 
 sins, the renovation of your heart, and the guidance of 
 your judgment. Never be satisfied with an avowedly 
 imperfect Christianity. A half Christian is ?io Christian, 
 nor is he accepted of God. Christ is a whole, perfect, 
 and finished Saviour: and whosoever is a partaker of 
 Christ, is a partaker of all that he is, all that he has 
 done, and all that lie will do, for the complete salvation 
 of all his chosen. Decency, formality, and cold cere- 
 monial worship, are poor and inefficacious substitutes 
 for heart-service, holy affections, trust in a Saviour, and 
 love to God. Not unfrequent are the times, and your 
 dear mother often experiences them also, when the 
 immensity of that question, 'Am I his, or am I not?' 
 overwhelms me; and I should sink in despondency, if 
 the free, undeserved, and inexpressible mercy of God, 
 did not direct my soul to the Kedeemer's blood, which, 
 
 18 
 
206 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICH M ONI). 
 
 when believed in, and applied to the guilty and trembling 
 conscience, cleanseth from all sin, and opens the door 
 to hope and consolation. May my beloved child flee to 
 the same fountain with genuine humiliation, and find 
 the like deliverance ; and may his anxious parents be 
 made so far partakers of his thoughts, as to feel strong 
 in the Lord on Ms account. My mind was much 
 affected when I first received you at the table of the 
 Lord, and my heart went out in lively prayer, that you 
 might also be received of God — owned, honoured, and 
 accepted as a child of heaven. Live, speak, and act as 
 a consistent communicant of the church ; the vows of 
 the Lord are upon you : but if all be right, you will find 
 that his yoke is easy, and his burden light. I wish to 
 look upon you not only as my child by nature, but as 
 my spiritual child, and therefore, (without a paradox) 
 my spiritual brother. Sweet associations of relation- 
 ship are formed in the family of God and the household 
 of faith. Many tender and affectionate prayers have 
 been daily offered up for you amongst the poor people 
 of Turvey, as I have several testimonies to prove. We 
 shall sooa return to them again, God willing; and may 
 those prayers, united to my own, be fully answered in 
 the gracious state of your soul, as well as in the comfort 
 of your bodily health ! But we must, as to the latter, 
 await the Lord's will. He doeth, and will do, all things 
 well. Meditate on these things, and may you and I 
 mutually reap the benefit of such exercises of your 
 heart I As you read this letter, cherish a tender as well 
 as a dutiful sentiment towards him who penned it, and 
 accept it as one more token of that deep-seated love 
 which I bear towards you, and which must increasingly 
 subsist, while I remain a father, and you a son. 
 
 "I yesterday enjoyed the high mental luxury of 
 walking in the broad aisle of York Minister, quite alone^ 
 during the morning-service. As often before, such 
 
LETTER FEOM SCOTLAND. 207 
 
 sights and such sounds compelled me to weep : and as 
 I was solitary, nothing interrupted the flow of my heart. 
 I recollected being there once with you, and I have not 
 forgotten how much, if I mistake not, your infant heart 
 was also affected at that time. Whether we shall ever 
 again meet together, in that magnificent and astonishing 
 fabric, I know not; but, oh! may God grant that we 
 finally meet in the " house not made with hands, eternal 
 in the heavens." ' 
 
 In the month of July, Mr. E. engaged a small cottage 
 at Kothsay, in the isle of Bute, at a convenient distance 
 frSm the physician's residence. From hence he made 
 frequent excursions by sea and land, in the hope, by a 
 change of scene and air, to check the progress of the 
 disorder. It appears from the following letter to his 
 curate, that he had not yet despaired of his son's recov- 
 ery ; but being at once the nurse, the father, and the 
 spiritual guide of his dear boy, he was making every 
 effort on his behalf, and diligently employing the means 
 prescribed by the physician. 
 
 ''My DEATi Feiexd and Brother, 
 " If the date of this letter may seem to betoken inat- 
 tention to my promise, or a wrong estimate of your 
 valuable services during my absence from home, I rely 
 on your friendship and candour to ascribe my silence to 
 other causes. I have been almost daily, from morning 
 to night, sailing about with my dear boy upon sea and 
 river ; and neither the motion of the steam-boats, nor 
 the lassitude felt at night after such voyages, are favor- 
 able to epistolary duties. But I can truly say, that 
 my heart's best prayers and recollections have been 
 with you, and this poor scrawl is meant to tell you so. 
 You well know, likewise, that anxiety within, added to 
 external causes, will easily unhinge the energy of the 
 
208 LIFE OF WILBERFOECE EICnMOND. 
 
 mind, and produce a kind of constitutional incapacity 
 and indisposition to duty itself. But neither let mj 
 friend nor my flock for a moment conceive tliat tliey 
 are forgotten. During many an hour, as I have been 
 floating on the waves, pacing the mountains and glens, 
 admiring the islands and the rocks, tracing the progress 
 of sun or moon upon the ocean or landscape, and 
 amidst all, fixing an anxious and affectionate look upon 
 our dear invalid as he sat by my side; during many 
 such an hour have I dwelt with solicitude and regard 
 on the domestic and parochial scenery of Turvey, — dear 
 Turvey, where so many sweet pledges, both of natural 
 and spiritual love, reside, — where my poor boy was bcfrn 
 and trained up, with brothers and sisters no less loved 
 than himself. Our intercourse and conversations under 
 existing circumstances, are deeply interesting to me. 
 He is, upon the whole, in cheerful spirits, and the air of 
 this delightful island particularly suits him. I am just 
 returned from a hill-walk with him, of a mile and a half, 
 and have been surprised at the degree of strength which 
 he evinced. The general symptoms are just now, I 
 think, more favorable. Still there are evident marks 
 of deep-rooted disease, and I am often much perplexed 
 by the fluctuations in his case. It is one in which I 
 feel it wrong either to encourage over-sanguine expecta- 
 tions of permanent amendment, or to give way to any 
 over-desponding sensations .as to the result. Happily 
 he is without pain, and in many respects he enjoys 
 himself. He delights in the scenery around us, which 
 is in the highest degree magnificent and beautiful. He 
 enters with his wonted taste into mineral and geological 
 examinations, and wanders gently by the sea-side, 
 hunting for pebbles, animals, shells, sea-weed, &c. and 
 I wander with him. Sometimes a little exertion fatigues 
 him, at other times he bears considerably more without 
 complaining. He has been a thousand miles on the \vatcr 
 
LETTER FEOM SCOTLAND. 209 
 
 since we left London, and sailing always agrees Avitli 
 him. I have every reason to be satisfied with the plan 
 we are pursuing. It much contributes to his strength 
 and comfort, and peace of mind ; and, to say the least, 
 has checked the weakening effects of the disorder, and 
 mingled encouragement with apprehensions which might 
 otherwise have gained daily ground. He is evidently 
 thinking very seriously and rightly about his state, and 
 our Christian conversation forms no small part of my 
 comfort, and I trust I may add, of his comfort also. 
 Whatever may be God's will, I feel satisfied that the 
 present dispensation is profitable to us both. May he 
 confirm and increase our hope. I am much gratified by 
 the accounts which I receive of your very auspicious 
 commencement of ministerial labours at Turvey, and 
 beg you to feel assured of the value I put on them. Go 
 on, my dear friend, in the strength of the Lord, and may 
 you pursue the arduous career of holy exertion, in public 
 and in private, to your own comfort, the glory of God, 
 and the good of my dear flock. Make known how affec- 
 tionately I feel towards them, — how earnestly I desire 
 their prayers, and how sincerely I remember them in 
 mine. My not writing to them at an earlier period has 
 arisen entirely from the constant occupation and anxiety 
 which have monopolized my time and my feelings. Wil- 
 berforce thanks you for your kind letter. I hope he will 
 soon feel able to answer it. Dear boy! — he talks with 
 hope of returning to Turvey with amended health, and 
 telling you in person how much he enjoyed the scenery 
 of the north. Pray for him, and me, that we may lay in 
 our neavenly Father's bosom like children, and wait his 
 pleasure like believers. You will not forget the other 
 dear boys, — they are in your hands for good, and may 
 God bless you to them all. Give them my blessing, and 
 lot them convey it to all at the Rectory. Believe me, 
 Yours, affectionately, L. R." 
 
 18* 
 
210 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 Much of wliat I sliould have detailed has been intro- 
 duced into the Memoir of Mr. Eichmond. Two only of 
 Wiberforce 's letters remain ; the first of these was 
 written to his brother H. 
 
 " My dear H. 
 ''I did not think when I parted from you, that I 
 should be as well as I am, for I feel very much better. 
 Sickness and separation have attached me more to you, 
 and to my home, and to all that are in it. Sickness, as 
 is usual, has brought sorrow for its companion, but I 
 trust I do not sorrow as one without hope. My illness 
 has proved a warning to me, and it may also be a warn- 
 ing to you. You saw me brought down, in a very short 
 time, from a state of health and strength, to one of weak- 
 ness and debility ; and all our natures are alike, equally 
 fragile, equally transient. Uncertain is every tie which 
 binds us to life ; and therefore it is my prayer, that 
 you, no less than myself, may look forward to our latter 
 end; and not neglect opportunities of attending more 
 closely to the things which belong to our everlasting 
 peace, and guarding against the increasing fascinations 
 of a world that lieth in wickedness." 
 
 The second letter was a reply to his father's instruc- 
 tions and preparations for the Lord's Supper. 
 
 ''My dear Father, 
 " I thank you for the kind letter you wrote to me on 
 the subject of the Sacrament. I could not have received 
 one which would have more truly convinced me of your 
 affection and desire for my spiritual welfare. Oh I may 
 €rod give an answer to your prayers and desires on my 
 behalf, and may you see me walking humbly and sin- 
 cerely in that narrow path which lead^ to life eternal. 
 I have thought much on the contents of your letter, 
 and have been deeply affected. At first I was discouraged 
 by a sense of unworthiness, and shrunk from the 
 
HIS LETTEES. 211 
 
 thought of approaching the Lord 's table. It then struck 
 me, that even if I had not attained all I desired, *I might 
 still venture with a humble and prayerful spirit, and 
 an entire dependence on Christ. I thought, also, that 
 if I neglected attendance, I should be dishonouring 
 the Saviour by a refusal of an appointed means of 
 grace ; and I do hope, that by presenting myself to 
 Christ in his own ordinance, I may be confirmed and 
 strengthened in my faith, a-nd helped on to fulfil the 
 vows made at my baptism, and fight manfully under 
 Christ 's banner against the world, the flesh, and the 
 devil. I would then, my dear father, put on the garb 
 of humility, and go and kneel, as the very lowest of his 
 disciples, at the foot of the cross of Jesus, and commem- 
 orate with gratitude his cross and passion, his glorious 
 resurrection and ascension, — on the merit of which 
 alone are fixed all my hopes in this world and the next. 
 How thankful do I feel that I may kneel at the foot of 
 the cross. Oh ! where besides could I wish to stretch 
 out my aching limbs and die ? 
 
 " I suppose my journey will make some delay in your 
 intentions, but if I return with renewed health and 
 strength, I would consider that in receiving the sacra- 
 ment, I give a pledge to God and you, to devote myself 
 soul and body, to the promotion of the divine glory. But 
 if I should not return in health, and if it should seem 
 tit to the Almighty to shorten my life, yet if he will 
 renew my soul by his Holy Spirit, oh 1 how unspeakable 
 a blessing to wing my flight from sin and sorroAV. 
 
 " If I were certain of his favour, and my own change 
 of heart, I should only wish to see my Saviour face to 
 face, and praise and love him for ever. I have written 
 hastily, but as long as I could without fatigue, a short 
 but I assure you a sincere letter. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 WiLBEKFOKCE." 
 
212 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 The closing scene of Wilberforce will be detailed by 
 one who loved him dearly, and was a witness of liis 
 latter moments. Mr. Eichmond had desired his daugh- 
 ter to note down the events and conversations of the 
 sick chamber, and he refers to them in the following 
 letter : — 
 
 " My DEARLY-LOVED ¥., 
 
 " I have been very unwell with a swelled face, accom- 
 panied by high fever; and though better, am still an 
 invalid ; but this illness is sent for some good end to my 
 soul. I desire to investigate that end in a right spirit. 
 The fire at Turvey has done much mischief, and is indeed 
 a general calamity. I wish you to relieve the sufferers. 
 You may distribute for me both money and clothing. I 
 shall be able to decide better on my return, what sum to 
 subscribe. May we know how to 'glorify God in the 
 fires.' 
 
 ''Poor ! although her evidences were faint, I 
 
 thought them genuine. I have seen many such cases, 
 and despair not. God often permits the signs of true 
 faith to appear very feeble, when, nevertheless, the soul 
 still cleaves to the Saviour, in the midst of many causes 
 of suspicion and perplexity. Some are saved, "yet so 
 as by fire." Happy they who are saved at all. 
 
 " I hope you have a long manuscript of recollections 
 concerning our beloved Wilberforce. I depend upon it. 
 Employ speedily some hours in preparing for me all you 
 know relative to that eventful period. I still shed 
 many tears in the remembrance of that dearly -loved boy. 
 I have feelings which never leave me for two hours to- 
 gether. They mingle with all my cheerful, and all my 
 pensive moments. I have particular reasons for delaying 
 to write the memoir, but fu^y intend to do it. 
 
 " I have been at Cambridge. The recognition of 
 many old friends from all parts of England, has much 
 
HIS LETTEES. 213 
 
 interested me. Indeed, associations connected witli 
 former days, have quite overpowered me. The older I 
 grow, the more acutely I feel everything. 
 
 "Take care of too frequent intercourse with the 
 world. I write with a heart full of love ; but I must 
 caution you. There is nothing more dangerous to young 
 Christians than indiscriminate intercourse with persons of no 
 religion. It is far more likely that we should receive 
 evil, than impart good, in such society. I have expe- 
 rienced this too much myself on many occasions, not to 
 feel it keenly. Prudence and prayer are then especially 
 needful ; for we may more easily conform to the world, 
 than bring the world to conform to us. Happy they 
 who have the least to do with it, except in the way of 
 absolute duty and necessity. I often reflect with grati- 
 tude on the blessing which God has given to the retired 
 
 habits and education of my two boys, W and H , 
 
 one in heaven, and one still on earth. To their seclusion 
 I ascribe their simplicity and happy ignorance of many 
 evils. Premature acquaintance with the wickedness of 
 the world, — (and there is no knowing the world without 
 coming in contact with its wickedness) — has ruined 
 thousands of hopeful young men, and has multiplied the 
 miseries of the hopeless. 
 
 "I long for our early morning readings. Latin, 
 Greek, and mathematics, are a very small and inferior 
 part of learning, particularly for the Christian ministr}^-. 
 While heads are filling, hearts are withering. Give my 
 
 affectionate love to dear ; next to my own boys I 
 
 do indeed love him. I long to see more of an unreserved 
 and experimental communication between him and 
 H . I have numberless feelings about their inter- 
 course which I do not utter, and yet I know not why ; 
 but this I know, that I have you all in my heart ; but 
 that heart will soon turn to dust. There is a better 
 
21-i LIFE OF WILBEKFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 heart in heaven. I would have all my dear children 
 enclosed in it. 
 
 " Give the children of the Sunday-school a new sub- 
 ject; that they may search for texts to prove it. 
 
 ^'Farewell, dearest F . I lament many things, but 
 
 most of all that I am not worthy to be called 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. K." 
 
 Mr. E. was evidently ripening for heaven. The ten- 
 derness, the deep piety of his loving spirit, the weaned- 
 ness of his heart from the world, and his earnest desire 
 to transfuse his devout feelings into the minds of all who 
 were connected with him, discover an assimilation to a 
 purer jegion, and might have prepared us to expect that 
 his departure was not far distant. The documents to 
 which he alludes, are contained in the following com- 
 munication, which I commend to the serious and atten- 
 tive perusal, both of young persons and their parents. 
 
HIS LATTER DAYS. 215 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 'Hero were two souls knit together as the soul of one man : what there is of 
 present separation shall be but for a little while.' 
 
 Howe. 
 
 My veey dear Mr. F- 
 
 " In compliance witli your request, I send you the cliief 
 incidents of our brother's closing scene; his conversa- 
 tions with my dear father, and other members of his 
 family, and a few of the letters which were written 
 during that mournful period. You may rely on the 
 accuracy of the whole. My father had intended to have 
 published a memoir of "Wilberforce, and with that view 
 he desired me to make memoranda of what passed at 
 the time. He told me more than once, that the blessing 
 which seemed to attend the perusal of his little tracts, 
 encouraged him to put on record the piety of his son ; 
 which he considered to be no less honourable to God, 
 and consoling and strengthening to young Christians, 
 than that of the Dairyman's Daughter, or the Young 
 Cottager. He thought that Willy's training for eternity 
 might be read with equal advantage and might assist 
 both in imparting clear views of religion, and in reliev- 
 ing the mind from the fears and anxieties which often 
 distress and harass young Christians in the prospect of 
 death. ' To know that others have been perplexed with 
 the same doubts, alarmed by the same fears, animated 
 by the same hopes, comforted by the same promises, 
 and directed by the same precepts,' he used to say, ' will 
 demonstrate a holy identity in the influence of the 
 
216 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 gospel and tlie effects produced by it ; and may comfort 
 the trembling sinner, and confirm the most advanced 
 believer.' 
 
 ^' There are a number of papers in my father's hand- 
 writing, relating to my brother's character and dying 
 hours, which are indeed so unconnected and unfinished, 
 that scarcely any use can now be made of them ; but 
 they show how interesting a detail the memoir would 
 have been in his hands. He would sit for hours in his 
 study, perusing and adding to these fragments ; but the 
 excess of feeling and mental agitation, which the con- 
 templation and reminiscence of the past never failed to 
 renew, greatly impaired his health, and forced him to lay 
 aside his purpose. 
 
 " In one of the papers alluded to, we found the fol- 
 lowing remarks in his own hand. ' I have never given 
 up the design of writing his memoir, and every day's 
 meditation has prepared me for it. But whenever I 
 begin, my spirits sink, my eyes are filled with tears, 
 and I lay aside my papers to a more convenient season, 
 when I may be able to write with more calmness. Alas I 
 this is my weakness I ' 
 
 "Wilberforce had always been my dear father^s 
 companion in his literary and philosophical pursuits. 
 From his childhood, his chief pleasures and recreations 
 were in the study ; and he used to retire to the museum 
 to make experiments with the air-pump, or electrical 
 machine, or to read some book of -science, while the 
 other boys were engaged in their sports. As he advanced 
 in years, he employed his leisure hours more especially 
 in the study of mineralogy and geology. This congeni- 
 ality of mind and pursuit contributed to cement the 
 strong attachment which subsisted between my father 
 and Wilberforce, and indeed rendered the one almost an 
 integral part of the other. My dear father had a peculiar 
 talent for connecting science with religion and AVilber- 
 
ins LATTER DAYS. 217 
 
 force seemed more tlian liis other children to afford him 
 materials for a successful cultivation. 
 
 ''In my father's miscellaneous papers we find the 
 following short notes^ evidently written with reference 
 to the projected memoir. ' Early intellectual conversa- 
 tion^ great general reading, strong turn for reasoning 
 and argument; deep and close investigation of philoso- 
 phical questions, acquaintance with subjects of political 
 economy, love of natural history, insects, mineralogy, 
 geology, classics, mathematics. My wish and endeavour 
 has been to cultivate philosophical pursuits, in connec- 
 tion with religion, with my children, as recreations, in- 
 stead of allowing and encouraging the trifling and often 
 pernicious amusements of the world. I have found my 
 plan answer in his case.' 
 
 " Our dear father had succeeded in making his 
 home dear to all his children. Home was never 
 talked of without emotion by any of them. They left 
 it with regret ; they returned to it with the fondest 
 affection, and connected with it every endearing asso- 
 ciation. No patriot Israelite ever sang of the place of 
 his nativity with more enthusiasm, ''Let my tongue 
 cleave to the roof my mouth, if I prefer not Jeru- 
 salem above my chief joy." Our beloved parent's 
 integrity and uniform consistency engaged our esteem, 
 and the multiplied resources of innocent gratification 
 which surrounded us, won our regard. 
 
 " As Wilberforce grew up, he was considered by the 
 whole family as the one marked out to fill his father's 
 place in the church, and to his relatives. He became 
 an object of interest to all ; and to none was he more 
 endeared than to his loving parent, who clung to him 
 with deeper affection each succeeding year. 
 
 "In the spring of 1824, when he had reached his 
 seventeenth year, we were first alarmed for his health. 
 He took cold from a wet ride, and a slight cough 
 
 19 
 
218 LIFE OF WILBEEFOECE EICHMOND. 
 
 succeeded. One morning in tlie montli of May, my 
 father discovered symptoms of his having ruptured a 
 blood- vesseL His fears were greatly awakened, as appears 
 from a note in his papers. ' As I looked on him that 
 morning, I felt a shock which seemed to shatter me to 
 the very soul, and I have never recovered it.' In a short 
 time Wilberforce's appearance was considerably altered, 
 and his spirits were depressed. 
 
 ''When a journey to Scotland was proposed, my 
 father was greatly agitated, the more so because it was 
 impossible that at that time he should accompany liim, 
 and he dreaded even a short separation from his beloved 
 child. His feelings will be best shown by the following 
 letter. 
 
 '' St. Neot^s, Monday night. 
 " My evee dear love, 
 " * * * Ko one knows, or ever can 
 
 know, the anxiety which I have felt on our dear child's 
 account. Little as it may have been perceived, I have 
 been inwardly agitated beyond expression, and this 
 must apologize for any weakness or inconsistency of 
 which I have been guilty. God only knows what I 
 have suffered. I have been taken by surprise. The 
 alarming symptoms in the disease of our beloved child, 
 have awakened a thousand feelings and fears. I have 
 reflected on his bodily, but much more acutely on his 
 spiritual state. I liave been unwilling to separate from 
 him under all the probable, or at least possible contin- 
 gencies of the disorder. I have wept and trembled. I 
 have mourned over my past deficiencies towards him. 
 I have had my hopes, not being ignorant of the exercises 
 of his mind for past years. Yet I have had my fears, 
 lest he should have fallen from his first love, and lest his 
 literary pursuits should have weaned his heart from God. 
 For more than a year past, I have hourly meditated on 
 
HIS LATTER DA¥S. 219 
 
 the course of his education, and prejjaration for the 
 sacred ministry. He has been the star of my hopes, the 
 source of my anxieties. I have anticipated with exqui- 
 site, though unuttered joy and hope, his entrance on the 
 glorious work of preaching the unsearchable riches of 
 Christ, and I have also been full of anxiety in a view of 
 the falls and disappointments which yearly occur, amidst 
 the contaminations and injurious companionship of a 
 college career. Yet I have never ceased to hope that 
 God will work with him and by him. My declining 
 years have been cheered by associations connected with 
 my interesting boy ; but the Lord now sees good,-— and 
 blessed be his name, — to hang a dark curtain between 
 me and all these thoughts and visions. Hence I am 
 sometimes fearful, sad, and heavy. 
 
 "I see fully the necessity and the propriety of the 
 proposed journey, but I doubt his strength and ability 
 to encounter the fatigue and trial inseparable from it. 
 Chiefly I dread being absent from him when heart and 
 strength may fail, and I may only see him again when 
 sinking into the grave, unaided, unstrengthened, u.n- 
 blessed by his affectionate father. Did I but know more 
 of his mind, I might possibly be more at ease ; but his 
 reserve withholds from me this consolation. I have 
 made a gentle, and I hope a considerate attempt, to draw 
 him out by a little opening discussion on the sacrament. 
 I start for Cambridge at half-past four to-morrow. The 
 sight of that place will most acutely remind me of the 
 past as it relates to myself, connected with the contin- 
 gencies of the future as it may concern him. I have 
 many fears, mingled with the hope of his recovery. I 
 feel very anxious from day to day. May God overrule 
 all these things for the good of each of us I Give my 
 love to all, and an especial blessing to Willy. 
 
 Your affectionate, 
 
 L. B." 
 
220 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 '' After it was decided that my brother should go to 
 Scotland, we were advised to send him there by a sea- 
 voyage, in company with Mr. . His father was to 
 
 follow him in a few days; He was much depressed at 
 this time. It was his first separation from the paternal 
 roof, and his mind became deeply affected when the 
 parting hour arrived ; and when he was to bid farewell 
 to his beloved mother, to brothers and sisters, to domes- 
 tics and neighbours, endeared to him by every sweet 
 and tender tie of youthful affection I to the home of his 
 infancy ; to almost every person, place, and thing, with 
 which he had been accustomed to associate happiness; 
 the agitations of his feelings increased the weakness of 
 his frame ; the conflict of his mind was visible in his 
 countenance, he looked pale and languid; a painful 
 contrast to the usual smile which played on his coun- 
 tenance. On the morning of his departure he was very 
 silent. He looked on ns all as we stood around him,- 
 and with tears in his eyes he stepped into the carriage. 
 During the interval of separation, my father corres- 
 ponded with him, ^' and was very earnest to draw from 
 him a more unreserved communication, and to satisfy 
 himself more thoroughly of the reality of Wilberforce's 
 piety, of which he entertained some doubts, amidst 
 many hopes : but my brother avoided the inquiries of 
 his anxious and distressed parent. The voyage agreed 
 well with him. In the course of a fortnight my father 
 and I followed him into Scotland. We met A¥illy as 
 we entered the Firth of Clyde in a steam-boat. He 
 looked much better; his spirits were good, and the 
 meeting between us inspired reciprocal feelings of hope 
 and joy. 
 
 " For a while Willy's health seemed to be improved ; 
 but we soon discovered that there was no material 
 
 *See letter p. 198. 
 
Ills LATTEK DAYS. 221 
 
 amendment. For a few weeks lie was buoyant in 
 spirit, and apparently restored; then the hectic fever 
 flushed his cheek, he grew weaker, and again sank into 
 depression. Our dear parent, who at that time did not 
 understand the hopeless nature of the complaint, 
 watched over his wasting child amidst intense anxieties, 
 increased probably by the uncertainty of the issue in 
 his own mind. It was not a temporary separation 
 which alone affected him, though even this was a grief 
 heavy to bear ; but the least apprehension of losing for 
 ever one we love, fills the soul with the bitterest anguish. 
 It is impossible to be sincere, yet calm, under such cir- 
 cumstances, while any hope remains, or any help can 
 bo administered. A holy violence of feeling and effort, 
 best discovers the integrity of our principles. There 
 was much in Wilberforce to love and admire. His 
 disposition was very amiable. The usual results of a 
 religious education were visible in him; he showed 
 every outward respect for religion ; strictly observed its 
 forms and duties, and admitted the theory of doctrinal 
 truth ; but this did not satisfy our dear father. He 
 knew full well that it was very possible to do what was 
 right in the sight of man without a perfect heart, — to 
 cleanse the outside of the platter, or beautify the sepul- 
 chre, while all within might be impure ; inasmuch as 
 the speculative approval of truth is distinct from its 
 sanctifying influence. Accustomed as our parent had 
 been to contemplate the infinite Avorth of an- immortal 
 soul, — a soul in this instance given to him by God to 
 train for eternity, — it was impossible that he should feel 
 otherwise than intensely anxious while he entertained 
 any doubt of its salvation. It was this uncertainty 
 which so greatly disturbed his peace and injured his 
 health. Wilberforce seemeg. shut up in impenetrable 
 reserve; he shrank from personal conversation on re- 
 ligious subjects, though his thoughtful and often de- 
 
 19* 
 
222 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 pressed countenance exliibited traces of inward conflict, 
 and need of lielp and comfort. He afterwards deeply 
 regretted his silence, and said, ' It was a device of Satan 
 to retard my progress in vital experimental piety.' Our 
 dear parent carried this trouble to God, and ' rolled his 
 sorrows on Him' who alone can help him. For many 
 months, he was sorely tried on this point. But God, 
 always faithful and true, heard and answered his 
 prayers more abundantly than he could ask or think. 
 ' A vehement suitor cannot but be heard of God, what- 
 soever he asks : if our prayers want success, they want 
 heart ; their blessing is according to their vigour.' * 
 The following letters were written to Mrs. E. about this 
 period. 
 
 ''My dear love, 
 " Here we are in something like an earthly paradise, 
 if beauty, sublimity, and diversity of scenery can consti- 
 tute one. The air is most salubrious, the rides delightful. 
 I am glad to say the country agrees well with Wilber- 
 force, who is stronger and in better spirits than I could 
 have expected. He varies occasionally, but suffers 
 little at any time. There is certainly an improvement. 
 The northern experiment has so far answered, that it 
 has cheered his spirits, and afforded him recreation and 
 change of air. I have frequent hopes of his amendment. 
 We have therefore reason for gratitude, whatever may 
 be the inscrutable designs of Providence. My mind 
 reposes with thankfulness on the goodness of God, amidst 
 a thousand anxieties respecting my dear boy. We are 
 constant companio^is, and have much Christian inter- 
 course together. Not only do prospects, scenery, geology, 
 botany, ships, rocks, mountains, braes, and ordinary 
 occurrences, engage our notice ; I have much satisfaction 
 
 •Bishop Hall. 
 
HISLATTEK DAYS. 223 
 
 in seeing how lie enjoys these ; but higher things are not 
 forgotten. We pass daily the hour after breakfast in 
 religious exercises. We are taking Mason's admirable 
 Treatise on the Lord's Supper as a kind of text-book. It 
 affords me an opportunity of saying what I wish to him, 
 relative to his own personal interest in spiritual matters. 
 I trust we are going on usefully and prosperously. I 
 think I am in my right place and employment, watching, 
 instructing, nursing, and giving myself wholly to the 
 comfort of my boy under his infirmities and vicissitudes. 
 His cough is troublesome twice or thrice in the day. He 
 pursues a bracing system and a generous diet. To what 
 extent the disease may be preying on the vitals, I dare 
 not conjecture. His present state and appearance are 
 certainly satisfactory, but the complaint is variable and 
 flattering, and I must rejoice with trembling. Oh ! for a 
 quiet, reconciled, patient, waiting mind ! 
 
 " Our present beautiful retreat is doing me good also, 
 and I need it. My mind and nerves have suffered a 
 severe shock. I am conscious of the benefit I derived. 
 How long I may be permitted to enjoy it, God only 
 knows. I would be thankful, and hope to receive grace 
 and strength for the future. 
 
 " The weather is become very showery, but is pleasant 
 at intervals. These are days which afford the finest 
 mountain-effects, and in this part of the Western High- 
 lands they are truly grand. We had a rolling tumbling 
 voyage to Ardentenny. Dr. S. seemed on the whole 
 pleased with the appearance of his patient. Dear love 
 
 to my children. Tell H we are surrounded by 
 
 immense trap-schistus, and red sand-stone rocks, with 
 great variety of form, substance, and arrangement. 
 * * ''^ Much love from all ; from none 
 
 more than your 
 
 Legh." 
 
224 life of wilbeeforce richmond. 
 
 " My dear love, 
 
 " For a few days after our arrival liere, "Willy was 
 not so well. The last three days we spent much on the 
 water, and he is stronger and better for it. Dr. S. 
 thinks it a case in which a vigorous pursuit of his 
 bracing system may prove successful, though he speaks 
 with caution. The worst symptoms are, the shortness 
 of breath, and debility in ascending the stairs and short 
 hills. But if the tone of the system can be raised, these 
 symptoms will diminish. His spirits rise and Ml as he 
 feels better or worse. I asked Dr. S. what proportion 
 of cases had recovered under his treatment : — he replied. 
 Where it is regularly followed, half. Willy rests much 
 on the hope of amendment, and generally replies to any 
 inquiry after his health, ^I am better.' I never leave 
 him from morning to night. Dr. S. is about live hours 
 sail from us. We spent a pleasant day last Thursday 
 with him in Lord B 's family. 
 
 " I am inwardly struggling and striving to be calm 
 and reconciled to God's will. I am going througb 
 depths in the inward meditation of my soul. When 
 you write to Wilberforce, keep in full view the uncer- 
 tainty of human life, even without, much more with, 
 the uncertainty of disease. Patients like dear W. are 
 full of stronger emotions, and disposed to deeper medi- 
 tations, as disease threatens a nearer approach to 
 eternity. General sentiments and feelings are more 
 easily preserved than the special applications of them 
 to a particular case. He is still very reserved to me, 
 yet I perceive he reads, and I think meditates, on 
 important subjects. I find it a delicate and a difficult 
 matter to preserve the right balance between the state 
 of his spirits, vacillating, rising and falling with the 
 state of his disease, and a reasonable hope which is not 
 influenced by an earthly association. Endeavour to 
 draw out his sentiments and feelings, and desire him to 
 
HIS LaTtii;r days. 225 
 
 keep a letter always on the stoclvs for you^ — to Avrite a 
 little day by day, till the sheet be full. 
 
 "So you saw Lord B 's funeral pass through 
 
 Bedford. I could wish for Christianity's sake that its 
 open and acknowledged adversary had remained in 
 Greece, where alone his life and conduct seemed to have 
 been doing good. To this country his writings will be 
 a lasting bane, and must continue to injure religion so 
 long as infidelity, blasphemy, and vice, can obtain 
 circulation and popularity, when clothed and armed 
 with the splendour of great genius and talent. These 
 constitute the real objects of worship with many who 
 profess to be Christians. I entertain no doubt that the 
 adoration of an intellectual and poetical idol may be as 
 great a sin, as falling down to the golden image in the 
 plains of Dura. Alas I we have seldom seen true piety 
 and true poetry united ; but genius and vice have been 
 too often associated in the annals of mankind. We have 
 need of due discrimination in our estimate of characters, 
 to be aware of the dazzling influence of able corrupters 
 and destroyers of virtue. 
 
 "You must only expect, in general, a few lines 
 from me ; but I hope enough to convince you how much 
 I love and esteem you. Convey to the people an affec- 
 tionate pastoral message. The same to Mr. ; cheer 
 
 and encourage him in my name. To my dear boys and 
 girls give sweet messages of love : and for yourself 
 accept a fragrant nosegay of pretty things from your 
 own affectionate 
 
 Legh." 
 
 " I do not think Willy was fully aware of his danger 
 at this time, though from his reserve it was difficult to 
 ascertain his opinion of himself; and his physician was 
 afraid of discouraging him by a disclosure of his real 
 situation, as he considered it of importance that he 
 
226 LIFE OF WILBERFOECE EICHMOND. 
 
 should expect recovery, and cultivate cheerfulness of 
 temper. ■^' 
 
 ^' Willy wrote a few letters during his residence at 
 Rothsay, of which the following are specimens : — 
 
 "Dear . 
 
 "I am not inattentive or indifferent to the kind 
 solicitude you have expressed for me. I now experience 
 what I have only heard before, that nothing is more 
 consolatory in sickness than to be remembered by those 
 we loved in health. I have been very unwell since I 
 saw you, and I once thought I must have given up my 
 former enjoyments, my future hopes and prospects, even 
 
 the pleasure of seeing dear friends such as you, , 
 
 and all I held most dear, on earth. I shall never forget 
 the pang which almost broke my heart on leaving home, 
 when I saw the tops of the houses, and the church, and 
 the fields, and the trees of my native village disappear 
 from my sight. I thought, perhaps, I am looking for 
 the last time on the scene of my earliest recollections — 
 my fondest and dearest enjoyments; — but it was a 
 moment of weakness, and I fear it was mingled with a 
 feeling of repining. I had always been happy — too 
 happy ; my heart was satisfied with this world, but God 
 was leading me by a path I knew not, in which I should 
 find more certain and durable enjoyment. I needed 
 something to convince me of the emptiness of the world, 
 and to lead me to fix my affections higher. I am now 
 much better in health. I do not look like the same 
 person, and I hope I am not presumptuous in anticipa- 
 
 Diseaso and the methods of cure lie within the province of a medical 
 attendant, and under certain circumstances it may not be proper to interfere 
 with him. Yet when there is little or no reasonable expectation of recovery, 
 there is a degree of cruelty in keeping up a delusion, and thus encouraging a 
 patient to delay turning to God till he cannot turn in his bed. It is unjustifi- 
 able on any principle of reason or revelation, The practice may be traced to 
 an indifierence to religion, or an ignorance of its real character,— EoiTon. 
 
HIS LATTER DAYS. 227 
 
 ting another day with you as liappy as that spent a1 
 
 W a few months ago. Perhaps you will think i1 
 
 a common-place remark, if I express a wish for youi 
 company at Eothsay. The situation is beautiful; but 
 beautiful as is the sea stretched now before us, and the 
 mountains and little romantic islands which surround us 
 on all sides, need I say how much more I should enjoy 
 their beauty, were you here to enjoy it with us ? I am 
 
 glad to have dear with me. We share our joys 
 
 together, and think so much alike about every thing. 
 To have been translated so suddenly as I have been, 
 from our flat country to this mountainous region, seems 
 like being taken into fairy land. Neither description nor 
 imagination can do justice to Scottish scenery ; but do 
 not suppose, that amidst all its charms I have forgotten 
 England. Oh no ! I more than ever love the little blue 
 hills of my native country ; the fertile plains, grassy 
 meadows, waving valleys, and elegant rusticity of the 
 cottages, in which we so much excel the hovels of 
 Caledonia. We have here fine exhilarating air ; but the 
 nights are cold and bleak. I long to enjoy again an 
 English summer evening, — to recline, as I have often 
 done, on a bank warmed by the setting sun, to feel the 
 balmy breeze which wafts the fragrance of the flowers — 
 to listen to the warbling strain of the nightingale, and 
 give way to the wandering of my imagination, which 
 gave perhaps a delusive yet fascinating sensation of 
 pleasure to the fleeting moment. 
 
 '' I have sailed above a thousand miles on the sea. 1 
 am beginning to like boisterous weather, though I seldom 
 escape the consequences. Adieu. 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 W." 
 
 *' About this time my father began to prepare Wilber- 
 force to receive the holy sacrament for the first time, 
 
228 LIFE OF WILBEKFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 and they used to retire together every day after breaMast 
 during our stay at Eothsay. Willy listened to his in- 
 struction in respectful silence, and seeming acquiescence 
 in the sentiments laid before him : he appeared interested 
 and anxious to be received into full communion with the 
 church of God, and was often observed to be in deep 
 thought and sometimes greatly depressed. His unwilling- 
 ness, however, to free communication rather increased, 
 and as his health was not materially improved, his father's 
 anxiety often amounted to agony, and he could not con- 
 ceal the mental agitation which afflicted him. He con- 
 tinued to weep and pray in secret for his child's confidence. 
 From Wilberforce's conversations at a later period, and 
 from letters written about this time, unknown to his 
 father till after his decease, we learnt what had been the 
 deep exercises of his mind — that he was then earnestly 
 seeking the knowledge and enjoyment of God — that 
 eternal things were the daily subjects of his contempla- 
 tion and inquiry, and that he also suffered much from an 
 insurmountable repugnance to make known his feelings, 
 his wishes, his wants. He told us afterwards, that though 
 he suffered more from suffering alone, he yet seemed like 
 one bound with a chain, and could not venture to lean or 
 place his confidence on any human help. At this time 
 he wrote as follows : 
 
 '' Rothsay. 
 " My dear Mamaia, 
 
 ^'I was beginning to write to you when your letter 
 arrived. Yery many thanks to you for it. It is impos- 
 sible for me to say how much a letter from home rejoices 
 and relieves me, under the peculiar circumstances by 
 which I am separated from it. The simplest thing which 
 happens in Turvey, becomes to me an object of interest. 
 
 " I am very sorry I should be the cause of anxiety to 
 you or to any one I love. I feel this thought more than 
 
HIS LATTER DAYS. 229 
 
 any pain I suffer in my body. Indeed, I lament our 
 separation as much as you can do. This period is one 
 in which I could have wished we might all have been 
 together, but things do not fall out as we would have 
 them, and it is best for us that they do not. I wish to 
 feel resignation in everything. As for my illness, I 
 trust I receive it at the hand of God, and most firmly 
 believe it to be the greatest mercy he ever vouchsafed 
 me. My heart was engrossed by this world. My affec- 
 tions were not set on things above. I did not sufficiently 
 feel my need of a Saviour. Christ was not my beacon- 
 star to direct the future wanderings of my life ; but I 
 looked to the false glare of humaij ambition, which 
 would have led me to serve myself rather than God: 
 now I have discovered the worthlessness of all my hopes 
 and aims. I find that all I have hitherto done is of no 
 ^vail in sickness. I have seen what worldly dependance 
 is, — when the world and all that is in it seems about to 
 be hidden from our view for ever. I trust also I have 
 known something of the joy arising out of dependance 
 on Christ in the moment of extremity. I would ask 
 God's forgiveness for making less improvement of his 
 'loving reproof than I ought to have done. Eemember 
 
 me to Mr. and Mrs. G . I hope the school is going 
 
 on prosperously. I wish my class to be told, that 
 though far from them, I have not forgotten them. I 
 hope they are regular in their attendance, and that if I 
 return, I shall find them all much improved. Ohl if 
 you knew how very often I think of home. I did not 
 know till now how much I was attached to Turvey. I 
 shall never forget my feelings when I lost sight of our 
 little village. I was obliged to summon up every weak 
 and weary faculty to prevent my quite sinking under 
 the removal from it. * ^- ^ 
 
 Tour most affectionate and dutiful son, 
 
 20 W." 
 
230 LIFE OF WILBERFOECE RICHMOND. 
 
 " Botlisay, Se;ptem'ber. 
 '' My dear Mamma, 
 ''Many thanks for your affectionate birtli-day letter, 
 I shall always recollect my last birth-day ; for it was the 
 first in which I felt melancholy. In the full enjoyment 
 of health and spirits, surrounded by all I most loved, 
 and by the companions of my boyhood, those days were 
 wont to pass away more quickly and happily than any 
 other. But as I sailed pensively down the waters of 
 Loch-lomond on the 20th of last month, a day dark and 
 gloomy, and in unison with my feelings ; I felt that I 
 was no longer in the spot where I had spent my former 
 anniversaries with those who shared and welcomed my 
 happiness. Yet I solaced the desolation of feeling with 
 the recollection, that though absent, there were those 
 who were thinking of me, and of this your letter con- 
 vinced me. '^ ^ *'^* "We spent last Sunday a^ 
 Greenock ; a day, I trust, ever to be remembered by 
 me ; for on that day I was admitted to the highest 
 Christian privilege, the sacrament of the body and blood 
 of our Saviour Jesus Christ, ordained by him as a per- 
 petual remembrance of his precious death and passion. 
 Oh ! that it may be to me a sign and a pledge of my 
 admission to the marriage-supper of the Lamb in glory. 
 I was very much affected, and should have been quite 
 overcome by emotions of my own mind, if I had not 
 felt stronger and better than usual on that day. JSTow 
 that I am an outward member of the visible church of 
 Christ, may I daily prove myself to be one inwardly, in 
 spirit and in truth ; and whatever portion of life God 
 is pleased to allow me, I would devote it to his service, 
 and love him with my whole heart, Avho first loved me. 
 I wish that another summer was at hand, instead of 
 another winter. I feel a dread of the winter. There is 
 already an autumnal feeling here. The leaves are be- 
 ,<;inning to change their lively green to more varied hues. 
 
niS LATTER DAYS. 231 
 
 Did the fading leaf ever remind you of a decay of a 
 
 Christian in this world ? Like the early tints displayed 
 by the unfolding bud, are the opening dispositions of a 
 young Christian. His active walk and conversation 
 resemble the healthy vigor of the full-matured foliage 
 and fruit. In the signs of withering decay we see an 
 emblem of his closing scene, when he has arrived at the 
 end of his mortal existence, and sinks into a temporary 
 suspension, to shoot forth in a never-fading spring of 
 immortal joys." 
 
 " We spent the months of July, August, and Septem- 
 ber, in the isle of Bute ; but as the season advanced, we 
 were advised to return home. Apparently, there was 
 little improvement in Wilberforce's health. Probably, 
 from being constantly with him, we had not noticed the 
 gradual, yet real increase of the disorder. He certainly 
 considered himself much better, and entertained hopes 
 of recovery, and expressed great pleasure in returning to 
 Turvey. We passed a few days on our way home, with 
 some dear friends in Yorkshire, with whom our father 
 left us, while he went to preach at Bradford. His great 
 anxiety for Willy's eternal destiny, appears by an in- 
 teresting letter written to him at this time.* 
 
 '' My brother arrived at Turvey Eectory the beginning 
 of November, and was restored to the quiet and peace 
 of his own family. Six weeks elapsed with little or no 
 alteration in his appearance. In a letter which my father 
 wrote to me at this time, he says, 
 
 " Dear Willy is much the same. I wish he was more 
 confidential and communicative as to the real state of his 
 soul. Oh ! what would I give for one voluntary conver- 
 sation or letter, detailing the former and present history 
 
 * See page 198. 
 
232 LIFE OP WILBEKFOECE RICHMOND. 
 
 of wliat is passing in his mind. I think well of it; and I 
 hope it is comfortable ; but I want to know this from 
 himself. Many a secret tear does his silence cost me. 
 
 " It was during the six months following his return 
 from Scotland, that poor Willy's soul was most severely 
 tried. He never spoke of death, but he must have been 
 sensible of increasing inward decay. He could not hide 
 from himself or his family, the depression and anxiety 
 of his spirit. He was much alone, and when he returned 
 from his closet to his family, the signs of sorrow and the 
 traces of some deep mental conflict were frequently 
 visible in his countenance. The Bible was scarcely ever 
 out of his hand, and after his return from the north, he 
 seldom took up any other book, religious or literary ; 
 which was the more remarkable, as his chief occupation 
 and delight had ever been in reading authors on almost 
 all subjects. He would now sit for hours, and nearly 
 whole days, over the Bible, in deep abstraction : he was 
 still silent to all about him, and it was sometimes more 
 than my dear father could bear, to witness the increasing 
 uneasiness of his mind, and the sufferings of his body. 
 After so many ineffectual efforts to penetrate the real 
 state of his heart, our afflicted parent had but one re- 
 source — to commit his child to Grod, in faith, and under 
 the pressure of his agonized feelings to cry, ''Thou hast 
 wounded and wilt heal : hast broken and wilt bind up 
 again." The following letters were, I believe, the last 
 my brother wrote. 
 
 Dear , 
 
 " I am afraid that you will conclude that our trip to 
 the north has cooled our affections, and frozen them into 
 indifference to former friendships. You must think so 
 no longer. ^ ^ ^ 
 
 " I am now in that dear home which has sometimes 
 been rendered still dearer by your presence. I reflect 
 
HIS LATTER DAYS. 233 
 
 on those hours with mucTi pleasure, but the remem- 
 brance is mingled with a feeling of melancholy. It is 
 possible thej may return; I mean hours of the same 
 delight : yet I must not forget my gradual decline for 
 the last six months. I am now in a state in which a 
 slight increase of disease might prove fatal: but I am 
 hoping, always hoping; for hope is a symptom of my 
 disorder, so I must hope. I am no longer what you 
 once knew me. The glow of health and spirits does not 
 now enliven my countenance, which looks, I believe, 
 rather sad : yet I know not why it should do so, for I 
 have lost only that which endureth for a moment, 
 and if I obtain that which endureth for ever, the love 
 and mercy of Christ, surely I have reason to rejoice in 
 the exchange. In Christ, and Christ alone, I find peace. 
 He will not cast me away. I have thrown myself, as 
 an unworthy sinner, at the foot of the cross, and there 
 in peace will I lay my head, and I trust cheerfully re- 
 sign my breath to him who gave it. I used once to 
 love the rose of all the flowers the best ; but now it has 
 left me, and I turn to the lily, for it seems to betoken 
 my approach to a world of purity — nor have I any wish 
 for life, if Christ will receive one so unworthy. From 
 how much sin and temptation shall I make my escape 
 by an early death ; and quitting these, enter into a 
 heaven of joy, where there is no more curse. I know that 
 in very faithfulness Grod has afflicted me ; — my chief 
 sins were pride and ambition, and these have been the 
 very means, — at least the chief causes, of my disease. 
 Proud of my talents, and seeking the admiration of 
 men, I neglected my health till it was too late to correct 
 the error, and now my dreams of future happiness in 
 this world, and all my ambitious hopes, are fled. But 
 I would not exchange the humility of a Christian for 
 the phantom at which I formerly grasped. People tell 
 me I shall recover. There may be hope, but my own 
 
 20* 
 
234 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 impression is to the contrary. Pray for me^ dear 
 
 and let a tear fall for the sins of 
 
 Your affectionate; 
 
 W." 
 
 " Jan. 4, 1825. 
 "Many, many thanks, dear mamma, for your long 
 and kind letter. I know you love me, and think of me, 
 while you are absent ; and it is some little consolation 
 for your absence, and yet but little, ibr I long for 
 your return very, very much. The house is dull 
 without you, and I am dull; for I am deprived of the 
 society of one I hold most dear. Do come as soon as 
 circumstances will permit. I would not press it, 
 mamma, but I am not nearly so well as when your left 
 me. My spirits are weak, and my appetite almost 
 gone. ^ * * '^ I am glad 
 
 that you wrote to me so openly and candidly on the 
 subject of death. I feel my earthly tabernacle fast 
 wearing away, and every day brings more occasion for 
 solemn thought and serious reflection ; and now, dear 
 mamma, having said this, I know you will be very 
 anxious to hear something about the state of my mind. 
 Just now it is most unhappy. The thought has forced 
 itself upon me, that I am not a child of God, but have 
 been deceiving myself with false hopes. My breast 
 heaving with anguish, and my eyes swollen with tears 
 too big to find a passage, would bear witness to the 
 agony of spirit I have endured this day. But I have 
 cast myself at the feet of my heavenly Father, and have 
 implored him by his mercy, by the love which led him 
 to send a Saviour into the world, by the death and 
 intercession of that Saviour, by the encouragements lie 
 has held out to sinners to come unto him, and by the 
 help which he has promised to all those who do so 
 come, — I have implored him not to send me empty 
 
HIS LATTER DAYS. 235 
 
 awaj. I have not yet fo-und comfort, but I am looking 
 and trusting. He lias said, Whom I love I chasten. I 
 do hope this may be his dealing with me ; and if so, I 
 shall be thankful for it. Amidst these conflicts, I see 
 as it were, a light glimmering through the darkness, 
 which leads me on in hope. Oh, mamma, if you love 
 your son, join your prayers to his, that this life, this ray 
 of hope may increase, and that he may have a sure and 
 certain hope of a joyful resurrection to eternal life. I 
 thank you for Miss Jerram's Memoir. I never read any 
 book with more interest. She had exactly the same 
 feelings I have ; but God removed them in his own good 
 time ! and I derive a hope from her deliverance, that I 
 shall not be cast away. I will not think it. I should 
 deny his word — his promises. Sorrow not, mamma, 
 that I must leave you, — we shall not be long separated. 
 Two little ones are gone before me, and will you not 
 rejoice that God has been so gracious to them ? They 
 know not the sin and sorrow of the world. I have 
 known both, and I wish to encounter no more. ISTot one 
 prayer have I offered up for life ; but I have said. Lord, 
 give me a converted heart, and do with my life as seemeth 
 thee best. I feel no desire for life. Do not think I want 
 affection. The thought of parting with you all, is more 
 than I can well bear; but God will give me strength. 
 
 " You blame yourself for not having talked with me 
 on religious subjects. I am sorry to say you would 
 have found in me a backwardness which I was never 
 able to overcome; but now if you were here, I could 
 talk most confidentially with you : * * * * -h- 
 May the Spirit of God rest upon you ! May he comfort 
 you under present anxiety — may he speak to your heart 
 in future sorrows — may you find joy in all your tribu- 
 lations, and an earnest of that rest which is prepared for 
 the people of God ! I am, 
 
 Your affectionate "W." 
 
236 LIFE OF -WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 '' The last letter my brother attempted, was to Mr. 
 in Scotland. It was written under great debility, 
 
 and was left very unfinished : — 
 " My dear Brother. 
 
 "Forgive me if I write this letter in a very disjointed 
 style. I cannot Avrite long together, and it is difficult 
 to resume thou2:hts once broken in their connection. 
 Many thanks for your kind letter. You need not have 
 begun with excuses. You make me anxious to have 
 you with me — I want to unburden my heart to you. I 
 wish to hear a voice of comfort from you. I never 
 could speak freely on these subjects — I am sorry you 
 found me so backward to religious conversation, but I 
 could not surmount my repugnance — I found it impos- 
 sible — I was not near enough to death — I had not known 
 trials and conflicts enough to overcome my reserve, and 
 induce me to unbosom my thoughts and feelings. But 
 now that I am struggling for life, now that I have 
 experienced hours of mental agony, which might often 
 have been alleviated, could I have opened my heart : 
 how much do I long to have you near me. How confi- 
 dently, how freely, would I converse with you I " 
 
 '' Hitherto "Willy's decline had been so gradual, as 
 scarcely to be observed by those who were constantly 
 about him. He rode on. horseback daily, sat much 
 with my father in the study, and appeared to his family 
 nearly as usual, except that an increased anxiety was 
 visible in his countenance. But early in January, 1825, 
 a considerable alteration was apparent. He wasted 
 rapidly; death was evidently approaching. We were 
 taken by surprise ; for our fears had been lulled asleep. 
 My dear father wrote as follows : — 
 
his latter days. 237 
 
 "My dearest F. 
 " As I think more "ancertainty hangs over the day of 
 your arrival than I wish, I write to hasten your return. 
 Dear Willy droops, he declines fast. He misses you 
 much, and often says he wants you. Many symptoms 
 increase my anxiety about him. He is much weaker 
 within the last few days. Come to us immediately. 
 We want another nurse. His breathing is with diffi- 
 culty and pain. His sleep and appetite fail — his looks 
 are pale and wan — his whole frame is sinking — his mind 
 seems very calm and composed, but he still says nothing. 
 I am persuaded that a great deal more has passed within 
 than we know of, and that of an excellent kind. Peace 
 and grace be with him and you, and with 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 "P.S. Since I wrote the above I have had a very 
 long, free, unreserved conversation with our dear boy, 
 most affectionate and affecting, and close to the great 
 point. It is an immense relief to my mind. He is to 
 me an interesting mixture of anxiety and hope. His 
 language sometimes resembles that of your own letter : 
 at other times he can trust more. Oh ! that I might 
 see both my beloved children, yea, all of them, living 
 by faith on the Son of God ! " By grace are ye saved, 
 through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift 
 of God. 
 
 "Willy's most distressing symptom is a kind of 
 suffocating feeling. We know not what this may pro 
 duce. You will not be surprised at my distress. Do 
 not wait for an escort, but trust Providence for a safe 
 journey home. 
 
 (Tuesday) 
 ' You- will be anxious to hear how the dear boy is 
 
238 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 to-day. He is extremely ill in body, and exceedingly 
 well in mind — in a peculiarly lioly frame. He slept a 
 little in tlie arm-chair last night; but bis decay is rapid. 
 He wishes to talk with you on many subjects. I hope 
 he may have strength at intervals to do so. His con- 
 versations with me have been most valuable and interest- 
 ing, — praised be God ! I am so comforted by my dear 
 boy's unreserved communications, that I frequently 
 forget the pain of parting. Who could be so selfish as 
 to wish to stop his journey to heaven ! Yet how trying 
 to nature is the idea of parting with him ! "Well, under 
 every bereavement and separation from others, forget 
 
 not, my dear E , the use you may always make of 
 
 your father who loves you. You, also, have been too 
 reserved towards him ; for he is indeed and indeed. 
 
 Your affectionate parent, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 '^ My mother Avas still at Bath, to which place she had 
 been summoned to attend the dying bed of her own 
 parent; and my father wrote to beg her return. 
 
 " My dear LOVE; 
 "Our dear "Willy's weakness has increased with 
 such unexpected rapidity within the last three days, 
 that I wish you to return home immediately. He is 
 exceedingly anxious that you should not delay an hour 
 in coming to him. Amidst my great anxieties, I have 
 the pleasure of telling you that the spell of silence is 
 happily broken between us, and he has opened his whole 
 heart to me. He is in a very anxious but hopeful frame 
 of mind. By our mutual conversation of yesterday and 
 to-day, I am relieved from a heavy burden. All the 
 nameless pangs of my mind, during the last eight 
 months, have been almost blotted out of my remem- 
 brance by my present consolations. My prayers are 
 
HIS L AT TEE DAYS. 239 
 
 answered at last; the door of ■atterance is opened, and I 
 am truly thankful. Your mind, as well as mine, has 
 long anticipated the probable result of this sickness. 
 We must go to the strong-hold for help, and we shall 
 not fail to find it. I am staying from church to enjoy a 
 sabbath with our dear boy : he has had a very bad night, 
 chiefly in the arm-chair ; the fever has been excessively 
 high, and the pulse at the utmost. But take comfort 
 from the state of his mind. It is truly interesting. All " 
 its natural superiority mingles with its spiritual charac- 
 teristics. He that once comforted you in your own 
 dangerous sickness, will comfort you in the distress of 
 your soul. Let us trust God in overruling all for the 
 best. When not oppressed by debility and pain, 
 Willy's countenance beams with sweet smiles of com- 
 posure and love. He often inquires when you may 
 be expected : * * * Of my other feelings I 
 
 can say but little. Ko one but Grod knows all that has 
 passed in my heart for more than eight months, I may 
 say for years, concerning Wilberforce ; But God is good 
 and gracious. 
 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 ''AH reserve was now banished from my brother's 
 mind. He opened his whole heart to his father, told 
 him minutely of all his past conflicts, spoke of his pre- 
 sent comforts, and begged that he might be closely ex- 
 amined. He wished to satisfy his parent and pastor 
 that his faith was scriptural and sincere. He seemed 
 to go beyond his strength in conversing — even to ex- 
 treme exhaustion, and appeared very anxious to tell how 
 God had enlightened, converted strengthened, and com- 
 forted him. He would sit for hours with his dear father 
 in the study, supported in an easy chair, telling him of 
 all he had gone tlirough, — intreating his pardon for the 
 
240 filFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 uneasiness he had occasioned him bj his past silence, 
 and expressing his great joy at now being able to con- 
 verse with freedom, and mingle their souls together in 
 the delightful interchange of confidence. It was now 
 that our beloved father was indeed comforted, and that 
 he received a full answer to patient prayer. Edified, 
 refreshed, and calmed by the holy language of his 
 child, his mind was supported under the expected and 
 'long-dreaded pang of parting. These conversations, 
 which were continued until increasing weakness ren- 
 dered them impossible, induced my father to form the 
 resolution of writing a memoir of Wilberforce, the im- 
 perfect outline of which is all that is left to us. I have 
 often heard my father and brother give the same opinion 
 of the reserve which occasioned so much pain on both 
 sides, and to which frequent allusion has been made. 
 They considered it as God's way of dealing with a pecu- 
 liar state of mind — intended to humble the pride of the 
 understanding, and silence a love of argument. It was 
 the Holy Spirit, as a sovereign, converting without hu- 
 man agency. Wilberforce said, that for more than three 
 months he had never looked into any book but the 
 Bible ; that God's word had been his only study, and 
 that amidst all his anxiety, often amounting to agony 
 of mind, he could find no relief, either from religious 
 books or religious conversation ; but was obliged to go 
 to the Bible for everything he wanted to know : — that 
 whenever he opened the Bible, he turned verse after 
 verse into prayer as he read, and that in so doing he felt 
 a force, a sweetness and consolation passing all under- 
 standing: — that though lie knew he had a father who 
 loved him tenderly, and was so able and willing to in- 
 struct him, and remove his perplexities, he felt himself 
 as one ayIio was spell -bound, and could not break silence 
 — and so he retired to his solitary chamber to weep and 
 struggle on in darkness — until the Holy Spirit became 
 
niS LATTER DAYS. 241 
 
 his teaclier, showing him the piercing spirituality of a 
 perfect law ; amidst conviction and terror of conscience 
 leading him to the cross to seek for mercy through him 
 that was crucified upon it : and enabling him to receive 
 the promise of free salvation in Christ by his blood and 
 righteousness unto justification. ^I have built/ he 
 would say, 'all my hopes for eternity on God's word, 
 which is unerring truth. I have found peace there, and 
 have been sealed by the Spirit which indited that word, 
 having received an earnest of the heavenly inheritance. 
 It was without human aid, that I might give God the 
 glory.' 
 
 ' I have mentioned to you some interesting conver- 
 sations which passed at this time between Wilberforce 
 and my dear father. The following paper in my father's 
 handwriting is the only one su£fi.ciently connected for 
 insertion. 
 
 " Subjects of conversation with me on Friday : — 
 '^Warburton — examination of evidences — acknow- 
 ledgment of errors — God's reasons for taking him away 
 from the ministry — prayer — Christ's love — God's way 
 of humbling pride — infidel temptations — on mere edu- 
 cational religion — his secret conflict for four years past 
 between a love of science and a love of religion." 
 
 " On Saturday he expressed a wish to see our family 
 surgeon; "not," said he, "that I want medicine, which 
 will do me no good, but I wish for his opinion of the 
 progress of the disorder ; it will be a great satisfaction 
 to me to know precisely, how long he thinks I may live. 
 My strength fails ; yet the symptoms vary very much." 
 The surgeon arrived in the evening. Willy converged 
 freely with him, and begged him to be open and explicit. 
 Mr. — — saw clearly that he was now in the last stage 
 of consumption, and he was surprised at the cheerful 
 and unembarrassed manner with which he discoursed 
 on his present situation. I left them together for a few 
 
242 LIFE OF WILBEEFOllCE 11 1 C II M O N D. 
 
 minutes. On my re-entering the room I was struck 
 with his countenance, which presented a mixture of 
 calm and lively satisfaction, as he was conversing with 
 his medical attendant, who on his return to the family 
 spoke with great feeling of his patient. He said, " the 
 danger is imminent, though it is impossible to say how 
 long he may remain," and added, " I have scarcely ever 
 witnessed so much cheerfulness and composure in any 
 one in the prospect of death ; certainly never in so young 
 a person." 
 
 ■^ "^ * I returned to my son, who said that 
 
 Mr. 's visit had afforded much relief to his feelings. 
 
 " I see what he thinks of my case, and it is right I should 
 know it." There w^as a union of thoughtfalness and 
 serenity in his manner which affected me exceedingly ; 
 but it filled me with gratitude and thankfulness to wit- 
 ness in this well-ordered and calm state of mind an 
 evidence of God's work, and of a divine change. He 
 observed, " I have no expectation, of any advantage from 
 medicine ; but it may palliate distressing symptoms. The 
 great Physician alone will regulate all for the^best, both 
 for body and soul. Oh ! I want to trust him more and 
 more ! " 
 
 "In the evening, as we were sitting alone in the 
 study, I asked him whether he had read the book I had 
 put into his hands, and whether he had found its con- 
 tents satisfactory. Instead of giving any direct reply 
 to this question, he looked at me with an earnest ex- 
 pression of countenance, and said, " Papa, do not be 
 afraid : I wish you to examine me. I am anxious 
 neither to deceive, nor be deceived in respect of my 
 spiritual estate. You cannot be too plain with me." I 
 had been for a long time past earnestly longing for a full 
 disclosure of his thoughts, but his reserve had hitherto 
 kept me from all knowledge of his real estate. In an- 
 swer to questions of a personal nature, he would only 
 
HIS LfATTEll DAYS. 243 
 
 reply, '^ I hardly know what to say ;• another time I may 
 tell better." On religious subjects in general he never 
 refused to converse freely, but he shrank from every 
 attempt at personal application. I was therefore de- 
 lighted when he thus voluntarily afibrded me an oppor- 
 tunity of knowing the secret state of his mind, for which 
 I had long and most anxiously prayed. I told him how 
 much I had wished to gain his confidence, and 
 feared I had not urged him to freedom of intercourse 
 with sufficient earnestness. "Indeed, papa," he said 
 "the fault was not yours. I have felt a backwardness, 
 particularly of late, to disclose what was passing in my 
 mind, and had you pressed me more than you have 
 done, to speak of myself, I believe you would have failed 
 to have obtained your object. But now I feel qi^jte at 
 liberty to talk of myself, and I must first tell you that 
 I think I see God's design in keeping me thus shut up 
 from you. It was his gracious purpose to teach me, in 
 the privacy and solitude of inward meditation, my state 
 as a sinner, and the nature of salvation by a Saviour ; 
 here I learnt the deep things of God, and now I would 
 come forth and tell you what Christ has done for my 
 soul." His countenance brightened as he uttered these 
 words; a tear dropped from his cheek, and his eye 
 glistened with animation, as he said, " I have had great 
 exercises of mind of late, but God has been very merciful 
 to me in the midst of them." 
 
 " And what," said I, " are your present feelings, my 
 dear boy?" "I feel, papa," he replied, "more hope 
 than joy. I have read of ecstacies in the view of dying, 
 which others have experienced, and to which I am 
 still a stranger ; but I have a hope founded on the word 
 of God, which cheers and supports me. I know in whom 
 I have trusted, and I believe he will neither leave nor 
 forsake me. I am not afraid of death ; but as I think 
 my time will not be long, I wish to put myself first into 
 
244 LIFE OF WILBEKFOECE RICHMOND. 
 
 the Lord's hand, and then into yours, that you may 
 search and try me, whether I am in any error." Such 
 an important moment was not to be neglected. I 
 received my child's confidence as an answer to many 
 an anxious and earnest prayer which I had offered up 
 to God, and I resolved to use it, as affbrding an oppor- 
 tuity of peculiar interest to us both. Satisfied as I 
 had long been with the general view of his religious and 
 moral character, strengthened by a discovery of many 
 evidences of inward principle, still, when I considered 
 the near approach of death and eternity — the value of 
 an immortal soul — the danger of spiritual delusion, and 
 my own immeasurable responsibility as a parent, I 
 resolved to leave nothing unsaid or untried, which would 
 bring our hearts into mutual repose on the great subject 
 of salvation, and my dear child's personal interest therein. 
 " I found his mind perfectly clear as to the great prin- 
 ciple of his acceptance with God, solely and unequivo- 
 cally through the death and righteousness of Christ. In 
 the most simple and satisfactory manner he renounced 
 all dependance upon every word and deed of his own. 
 "It is," said he, "as a guilty sinner before God, that I 
 throw myself on his mercy. I have no excuse to offer 
 for myself, no plea to put in why God should not utterly 
 destroy me, but that Jesus died to save, to pardon, and 
 to bless me. It is his 'free gift, and not my deserving. 
 Oh ! papa, what would become of me if salvation was by 
 works ? What have I ever done, and above all, what in 
 my present state, could I now do, to merit any thing at 
 his hands? God forbid that I should rest on such a 
 flimsy, fallacious system of divinity, as that which ascribes 
 merit to man. I have no merit. I can have none. I 
 thank God I have long known this. I fear many trust 
 in themselves, and thus rob Christ of his glory. Is not 
 this true, papa? " 
 
 "Yes, my dear Wilberforce, many do deceive them- 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 245 
 
 selves, and build for eternity on a wrong fonndation. 
 But I have endeavoured to impress on your mind from 
 your childliood, that salvation by grace, and not of 
 works, is the peculiar feature of tbe gospel of Christ; 
 and do you not now see that this is the doctrine of the 
 Bible?" 
 
 ' Yes, papa, and it is because, after long and repeated 
 study of the Bible, I have found the doctrine there, that 
 I believe, and am now comforted by it. You will pardon 
 my saying that the opinions which I have formed, and 
 the doctrines on which I rest, have not been imbibed 
 from the sermons I have heard, or the books which I 
 have read, but from a close study of the Scriptures them- 
 selves. I have been accustomed to bring sermons and 
 books to the test of the Bible, and not the Bible to them. 
 You cannot think what light and comfort I have found 
 in reading God's own word : I never found any thing 
 like it from any other book." 
 
 "I particularly inquired into the history of his mind 
 for more than three years past, in reference to those 
 sceptical temptations which he had formerly described 
 to me; and whether he had been lately tried by the 
 same doubts and difficulties in respect of the truth of 
 the scriptures." "Kever," he replied, ^'no, never. 
 From the time to which you allude, I have felt the most 
 perfect reliance on the word of God; and by much 
 reading of it, and praying over it, I have been so con- 
 firmed in my persuasion of its divine origin, as not to 
 have had my confidence once shaken since that period. 
 I have been tried deeply in other respects, but I have 
 never again varied on that important question. The 
 book of God, by God's blessing on its contents, has 
 proved its own heavenly character to my understanding. 
 HoAV thankful I feel for this " 
 
 '' A flush of hectic fever occasioned at this moment a 
 short period of debility, and he paused for a few minutes. 
 
 21* 
 
246 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 He soon resumed his affecting conversation, and said, 
 ^^I am not ignorant of my besetting sin. It was the 
 pride of the understanding. I always loved to examine 
 thoroughly into the grounds of an opinion before I 
 received it, and generally, though not always, to be 
 deliberate in coming to a conclusion. This habit has 
 often made me appear over-confident in what I said 
 and I know you have felt and lamented it. I do 
 entreat your forgiveness of any instance of this folly 
 which has hurt and grieved you." Then he added, 
 " The recollection of it has greatly humbled ; I trust I 
 have seen my fault, and have not applied in vain to the 
 blood which cleanseth from all sin." 
 
 "I asked him what had been his views of the 
 ministry, in case God had spared his life. He replied, 
 ''You know, papa, it has always been my wish and 
 expectation to be a clergyman, and with this view I 
 have sought to attain various kinds of literary know- 
 ledge. I have very often prayed to God to fit me for 
 this office, and I have thought much of the doctrines 
 I should have to preach to others. But I can see a 
 reason why God has put an end to these intentions and 
 prospects. He is removing me out of this life, and does 
 not permit me to enter into the ministry, lest I should 
 be tempted, from the peculiar turn of my mind, to seek 
 the honour and praise of men in my ministrations, more 
 than God's glory, and the salvation of sinners. I think 
 I can see both wisdom and goodness in this dispensa- 
 tion." 
 
 " I remarked that the same God who had convinced 
 him of his danger, could have humbled his heart in a 
 variety of ways; and prepared him for the service of 
 the sanctuary, without endangering his safety; and 
 doubtless would have done it if he had seen good to have 
 prolonged his life. "Such discoveries of your own 
 heart; my dear boy, are evidences not only of what God 
 
CONVEESATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 247 
 
 can do, but a pledge of what lie would have done for 
 you." "True, papa; but if he pleased to humble me in 
 ike valley of death, may it not be safer and happier for 
 me ? The Lord's way must be the best way." 
 
 ^' He then adverted to another subject. " I have 
 been much occupied of late," said he '' in thinking of 
 man's natural depravity, and the deceitfulness of the 
 human heart. I have discovered in it many things in 
 which we are" apt to overlook or make excuses for it. 
 I lim sure I have no ground of hope*exoept I stand with 
 St. Paul, and cry out, I am the chief of sinners." I 
 referred to a conversation which I once had with an 
 individual, who objected to an application of that expres- 
 sion to himself, and said, it was intended only to describe 
 the peculiar circumstances of St. Paul. ''Then I am 
 sure," replied Wilberforce, ''that person could not have 
 been rightly convicted of guilt in his own conscience. I 
 do not know what the critic may say on such a passage, 
 but I am quite satisfied that when the heart is opened to 
 itself, the expression, chief of sinners, will not appear too 
 strong to describe its character. I have often heard you 
 say, papa, that the view 'of religion which most honors 
 God, is that which most debases the sinner, and most 
 exalts the Saviour. I never felt this to be so true as at 
 the present moment." 
 
 "His pallid but intelligent countenance, as he said 
 this seemed to express more than he could find words 
 to utter. He paused a while, and continued, " What a 
 comfort I find in this conversation with you ! It is such 
 a relief to my mind I and I am very thankful for it." My 
 own heart was too responsive to that of my beloved child, 
 not to re-echo his own sentiments. I knelt down and 
 returned thanks to God, for the consolation afforded to 
 us both, and prayed earnestly that he would continue to 
 us the same holy interchange of kindred spirit and 
 feeling. 
 
248 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 "In another conversation, my dear boy expressed 
 great satisfaction at the remembrance of the preparation 
 for the Lord's Supper, while we resided in the Isle of 
 Bute the preceding summer; a preparation carried on 
 for several weeks before he first received that sacrament 
 in the Episcopal Chapel of Greenock. He observed that 
 in his daily opportunities of reading and conversing 
 with me, he could seldom express his thoughts with 
 freedom, though he deeply felt the importance of the 
 subject before us, liut " I shall always feel thankful to 
 you, papa, for the diligent and affectionate manner in 
 which you instructed me. I love that book of Mason's, 
 I shall never forget that day at Greenock Chapel. I 
 was greatly comforted. You preached from Isaiah Iv. 1. 
 ''Ho! every one that thirst eth, come ye to the waters: 
 and he that hath no money, come ye, buy, and eat ; yea, 
 come, buy wine and milk ; without money and without 
 price." — I did indeed thirst for the waters of salvation. 
 
 Poor Charlotte B was there also. Her unexpected 
 
 death affected me- much." 
 
 "What Avere your thoughts," I said, "when you 
 wrote those lines in her album the night before you 
 parted from her." "^ 
 
 "I thought them," he replied, " very suitable to my 
 own feelings; but I little thought she was to realize 
 the sentiment before I did." "She has joined her father 
 in a better world," I said. "Yes, and may I soon be 
 with them ; but God knows best, and I wish to commit 
 myself into his hands, for life or death." He then sunk 
 for a while into his chair and dozed. When he awoke he 
 began again to converse. "But papa, papa, do you 
 
 * It matters little at what hour of day 
 The righteous falls asleep. Death cannot come 
 To him untimely who is fit to die j 
 Tho less of this cold world, the more of heaven; 
 The briefer life, tho earlier immortality. 
 
 MiLLMAW. 
 
CONVE-RSATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 249 
 
 indeed think I am on tlie right foundation ? I cannot 
 bear the thought of being deceived ; but I do think 
 (5hrist loves me too well to cast me away, and that I 
 may say, Faithful is he that has promised, ivho also will 
 do it. I love God. I love his word. I love his ways. 
 I love his people, though I feel so unworthy to be 
 counted one of them. Surely such feelings as these do 
 not fit me for hell." An indescribable look of anima- 
 tion pervaded his countenance as he uttered these words, 
 and bespoke the love, faith, hope, and sincerity of his 
 heart, too plainly to be mistaken. 
 
 "If," he continued, "God meant to destroy me, would 
 he have shown me these things? " 
 
 "I am persuaded not," I answered. "Manoah's wife 
 has proved a comforter to many, and I rejoice that her 
 argument for the merciful designs of God prevails with 
 you." 
 
 "I am now fatigued, and must go to bed," said he, 
 " Pray with me, and then good night ! " 
 
 "Having the assistance of a much-valued friend to 
 undertake the public services of my church, and feeling 
 great anxiety to avail myself of this opportunity to 
 devote myself to my son in his critical and alarming 
 state of health, I remained at home with him the whole 
 of the next day. Although much oppressed by the 
 rapidly-increasing progress of disease and consequent 
 debility, yet he was able to engage in some interesting 
 and very important conversations at intervals during the 
 day. He was carried into the study about eleven 
 o'clock. At his breakfast he expressed a hope that 
 there were many now engaged in prayer for him in the 
 congregation assembled for divine service. "I should 
 love to be in the midst of them, but it cannot be now. 
 It never will be in this world. What a comfortino: 
 consideration, papa, that wherever two or three are 
 gathered together in his name, Christ has promised to 
 
250 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 be present witli them ! Do you think he is here ? " 
 I replied, " I cannot doubt it, mj dear boy. It is one 
 of the most consolatory views of the word of God, not 
 only that he is constantly present with every individual 
 believer, in every place, and under every circumstance, 
 but he is also especially present' with all such, however, 
 great or small their number, who unite together in acts 
 of worship and religious intercourse. He is alike pre- 
 sent at this time with our friends in the church, and with 
 you and me in this room. May God give us grace to 
 realize this and be thankful." 
 
 "Soon afterwards, while the servant was removing 
 the breakfast-things, I was stirring the fire, as he com- 
 plained of the cold ; and a short silence ensued. He 
 said presently, with a playful smile, ''I was thinking 
 while you stirred the fire, how much easier it is to rake 
 the ashes from the grate, than to get rid of sin from the 
 heart;" and then relapsing into a grave look, he added 
 " how often the ashes of sin deaden the flame of religion 
 in the heart!" This remark— -originating in an appa- 
 rently casual, incident — led to a close conversation on 
 the nature of sin, and the difficulties with which a 
 Christian has to contend in his conflicts with indwelling 
 and inbred corruption. I was much struck with his 
 deep acquaintance with the exercises of his own heart, 
 and with the gospel plan of salvation, which he evinced 
 as he continued to dwell on this subject. I rejoiced to 
 observe in him a personal and a practical application 
 of the grand truths of revelation to his own heart ; the 
 result of much prayer and meditation, and reading of 
 the sacred volume: his inmost thoughts were thrown 
 into our discourses, which manifested a power and 
 demonstration of the Spirit of God far beyond what I 
 ever anticipated. The reserve which had caused me so 
 much solicitude was entirely removed. With a sweet 
 and endearing freedom of heart and tongue, he expressed 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 251 
 
 Limself so openly, and with siicli sincerity as filled me 
 with gratitude, and rendered me for a moment* insensible 
 — comparatively insensible — to the pang of bereave- 
 ment which was soon to be undergone. To possess such 
 satisfactory evidences of my child being an heir of glory, 
 and that my temporary loss would prove his eternal gain, 
 and the hope that we should one day meet in the presence 
 of God to part no more, cheered my spirit and tranquil- 
 lized my mind, under an affliction otherwise insupport- 
 able. 
 
 ''I was making a reference to some expressions in 
 the seventh chapter of the epistle to the Eomans, on the 
 nature and character of St. Paul's own experimental 
 acquaintance with the truths which he enforced on 
 others, when I was summoned to join my other children 
 at the dinner table. I told him my absence would 
 allow him a respite from the fatigue of conversation; 
 but that I would soon return to him and resume the 
 subject, and begged him to seek repose for a little while 
 in his own arm-chair. This appeared to me the- more 
 necessary, as I had observed an evident and painful 
 struggle between the debility of his frame and the 
 animation of his thoughts. The hour of the afternoon 
 service arriving, I returned to my son, whom I found 
 with the Bible opened before him. He looked at me 
 with a smile, and said, "Well, papa, I have not been 
 asleep, I have been otherwise employed. I revived 
 almost as soon as you left me, and as I wanted to 
 converse with you on the epistle to the Eomans, I have 
 been reading through the first eight chapters, whilst you 
 were below, in order that I might have this subject more 
 clear in my recollection." I was surprised and pleased 
 to find that he had strength sufficient for such an exer- 
 tion, and I reflect on the circumstance with greater 
 interest, as this was, I believe, the last time he was able 
 to read at all. 
 
252 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 "He observed that lie had purposely stopped at the 
 eighth chapter, -because the apostle had there seenied to 
 make a division in his subject and argument. "What 
 a beautiful summary of doctrine these chapters contain, 
 papa ! I have thought on them again and again. St. 
 Paul lays his foundation deep in the corruption of 
 human nature, and shows so plainly that neither Jew 
 nor Gentile has any hope from works, but only from 
 faith in Christ Jesus. I have found great comfort from 
 that view of the righteousness of Christ, which the 
 apostle declares to be the only way of salvation. There 
 is, — there can be no other. We have no righteousness of 
 our own — all are under sin — every mouth must be 
 stopped, and all the world become guilty before God. 
 I have been at times perplexed about the principle of 
 acceptance with God, but now I see it quite clearly. 
 With what earnestness does the apostle labour to prove 
 the vanity of all human dependance! I have been 
 thinking as I read these chapters, how entirely the walk 
 of a believer depends on his faith in Christ, and how 
 closely connected the holiness, and the comfort, and the 
 reliance of the soul are with each other. He proceeded 
 to comment on the fifth and sixth chapters, as a train 
 of experimental and practical reasoning deduced from 
 those which preceded them : adding, " but the seventh 
 and eighth chapters have been my delight. I have 
 found my own case so exactly and so clearly described 
 in the seventh, and have been so much comforted by 
 St. Paul's description of his own feelings about sin and 
 Christ, as I can never express. And then the eighth 
 crowns the whole. Oh, what a chapter is that ! Every 
 word has given me instruction, strength and comfort." 
 I hear said, " And can you make an inward application 
 of the latter part of that chapter to yourself? " "In- 
 deed, papa, I hope I am not deceiving myself, but I do 
 think I can. It lifts me up with such hope and con- 
 
CONVEESATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 253 
 
 fidence, tlie language is so sublime, and tlie doctrine so 
 convincing. It sometimes seems too much for a sinner 
 like me to say ; — but all tilings are possible with God, 
 and he whom God saves, has a proprieUj in all things." 
 He then went through the whole subject of the chapter, 
 making a variety of sensible and solid remarks upon it, 
 and intreating me to examine him as to his personal 
 application of these glorious and gracious truths to his 
 own heart. After he had made some animated observa- 
 tions on the concluding part of this chapter, he said, 
 ''But now I want to add one sentence from another 
 part of the epistle, to wind up the whole, and that is, 
 '' Oh ! the depths of the riches both of the wisdom and 
 knowledge of God ! how unsearchable are his judgments, 
 and his ways past finding out 1 For who has known 
 the mind of the Lord? or who hath been his counsellor? 
 or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recom- 
 pensed to him again. For of him, and through him, 
 and to him are all things, to whom be glory for ever. 
 Amen." I shall ever retain a vivid recollection of the 
 tone of his voice, and the sparkling look of his eye, 
 which accompanied the utterance of these words. He 
 became immediately much exhausted — the difficulty of 
 breathing increased — the fever ran very high — he bent 
 over the table and fell into a dose, which lasted half an 
 hour.. He gradually awoke, and I observed him to fix 
 his eyes on a globe of water which stood near the 
 window, and contained a gold fish. I enquired what ha 
 was looking at so earnestly ? He replied, " T have often 
 watched the mechanical motion of our gold and silver 
 fish in that globe. There is now only one left, and that 
 seems to be weak and sickly. I wonder which of us will 
 live the longest — the fish or I?" He paused, and then 
 added, " That fish, my dear papa, is supported by the 
 water in the vessel, but I hope I am supported by the 
 waters of salvation. The fish will soon die, and live no 
 
 22 
 
264 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICH MO XD. 
 
 more ; but if I am upheld by the v^ater of salvation, I 
 shall live for ever." 
 
 " His remark led me to make some observations on tbe 
 practical use wbicli may be made of natural objects, and 
 the advantages of cultivating a habit of seeing something 
 of God and the soul everywhere, and of accustoming the 
 mind to seek such comparisons and allusions as tend to 
 improve and delight it. Wilberforce observed, " This is 
 the very principle exemplified in our Lord's parables, 
 and in all the figurative language of scripture." At this 
 moment a gleam of light from the setting sun shone upon 
 the gold fish, and produced a brilliant reflection from its 
 scales, as it swam in the glass vessel. ''Look," said he, 
 " at its beauty now." '' So, my dear boy, may a bright 
 and more glorious sun shine upon you, and gild the 
 evening of your days!" ''I hope — " he replied, ''al- 
 though I sometimes feel a cloud and a doubt pass across 
 my mind, — that in the evening- time there shall be light; 
 and then in his light, I shall see light.'-' 
 
 "Thus the gold fish furnished us with a kind of 
 parable. It so happened that the fish survived my son 
 two or three weeks; but I never afterwards saw it 
 without a lively recollection of the conversation to which 
 it gave rise ; and the ideas associated with it still mingle 
 with the cherished moments of his latter end." 
 
CLOSING SCENES. 255 
 
 CHAPTER yill. 
 
 How calm the rest ! 
 Night dews fall not more gently to the ground, 
 Nor weary worn out winds expire so soft.' 
 
 Blaik. 
 
 " From. this time my brotlier kept liis room, being too 
 weak to be removed to the study. He sat up during a 
 part of the day in Ms arm-chair, and conversed with his 
 father in the same strain of elevated piety. His mind 
 was at times strong and vigorous, full of faith, rejoicing 
 in thQ prospect of death, his heart trusting in God, — 
 then trembling and leaning on his spiritual guide, who 
 watched over him with the overflowings of tenderness, 
 gratitude and love, while his dying son besought him to 
 probe his inmost soul. My father, when with us, usually 
 preserved a dignified composure; speaking little, and 
 with tears ; pouring forth his soul in the family devo- 
 tions ; and seeming to say, ' He will soon leave me, but 
 blessed be the name of the Lord ! ' 
 
 " I returned to Turvey on the 10th of January. My 
 father met me in the hall. He wept much as he told me 
 there was no hope of Willy's life ; but he soon recovered 
 himself, and said that the agony of bereavement" was 
 forgotten in the blessed thought, that he had trained up 
 a child for glory. He then took me up stairs, where I 
 found the dear invalid in a chair before the fire, looking 
 very pale and emaciated, but with a countenance full of 
 peace and love. His eye glistened as I entered. He 
 leaned his head on my shoulder, but was too deeply 
 moved to utter a word. He continued silent a lonsj thue, 
 
256 LIFE OF WILBERFOECE EICIIMOND. 
 
 and scarcely spoke or answered tlie usual inquiries of 
 affection, In the evening lie revived, and seemed dis- 
 posed to converse. I asked if he could view the approach 
 of death without fear ? 
 
 " Yes, dear F , I have no wish to stay one day 
 
 longer on earth, but I must not be impatient. Lord 
 Jesus come quickly! if it be thy will. I would not 
 
 ling(^ here, but I pray for patience. Ah! F , how 
 
 I long to be free from this poor body, and see my 
 Saviour's face. You can never know how I long for 
 this, till you also have heaven in view, I know in 
 whom I have trusted. He will save me; for he has 
 promised, and he never changes." He then fell into a 
 kind of stupor, murmuring distinctly, '' Christ ! the 
 sinner's hope." When he awoke, the fever was very 
 high, and his mind seemed to wander. My father 
 entered. He looked up and said, " He fights hard, and 
 I fight hard, but Christ fights harder." He began to 
 pray aloud, struggling for strength and thought, and 
 entreating Grod that he might not be given up to delirium, 
 of which, he had a great dread ; and then he praised and 
 blessed God for giving him strength to offer another 
 prayer. 
 
 " I sat up with him the greater part of the night. He 
 once startled me by the energy with which, after a long 
 silence, he cried out, " I know in whom I am trusting. 
 I know he never yet left one soul that trusted in him. I 
 will not doubt." He passed a painful night, with alter- 
 nate fits of fever and shivering. He continually expressed 
 a fear that the fever would occasion delirium. He felt 
 his time so precious, that he could not bear to lose a 
 moment by insensibility ; he exclaimed with the utmost 
 vehemence, ^'0 God! most merciful; — God! do not 
 afflict me with the greatest of all evils, — insanity. I 
 long to glorify thee in my death. Can I glorify thee in 
 
CLOSING SCENES. 257 
 
 delirinm, when I know tliee not ? Yet not my will but 
 thine be done." 
 
 " Abont five o'clock on "Wednesday morning lie said, 
 " N.ow call np papa, and ask him to come and talk with 
 me. I feel as if I should have much to suffer to-day, 
 and I want him here that I may call up some comfort 
 and strength." He came immediately. I retired and 
 did not hear their conversation. My father has more 
 than once told me of the interesting subjects of their 
 discourse, but I am afraid to trust to recollection at this 
 distance of time. I again regret that my beloved father 
 did not live to fulfil his own intentions. I extract from 
 his very imperfect notes, what may possibly apply to 
 their present interview. 
 
 "I read the account of Hooker's death to him — 
 substantial calm on his mind, only interrupted for the 
 moment by disease — he told me of his grapplings with 
 infidel objections — of his weeping when a little child, at 
 a sermon I preached from Jeremiah. " * 
 
 ''After breakfast I returned to relieve my father, who, 
 amidst his daily sufferings, was not unmindful of his 
 family or his parish. "I must work while it is called to- 
 day, ^^ seemed to be the prevailing sentiment of his mind, 
 and his beloved child's approach to death gave additional 
 weight to the admonition, "what thou.doest, do it with 
 all thy might." 
 
 '' Wilberforce sat silent for some time, then looked 
 up and said. Come, and sit close to me. Let me lean 
 on you. Then putting his arms round me, he exclaimed, 
 "God bless you, my dear!" — he was. agitated, and 
 ceased speaking. Presently, he said — "I must leave 
 you — we shall walk no further through this world 
 together — but I hope we shall meet in heaven. Let us 
 
 * Jer. iii. 22. " Return ! thou backsliding Israel, saith the Lord, and I will 
 not cause mine anger to foil upon you : for I am merciful, saith the Lord, and 
 I will not keep mine anger for ever." 
 
 22* 
 
258 LIFE OF WILBERFOKCE EICilMOND. 
 
 now talk of heaven. Do not weep for me dear F- 
 
 do not weep, for I am very happy, but think of me, 
 •and let the thought make you press forward. I never 
 knew happiness till I knew Christ as a Saviour." He 
 then exhorted and encouraged me to study the Bible 
 with perseverance. ''Eead the Bible — read the Bible. 
 Let no religious book take its place; — through all my 
 perplexities and distresses, I never read any other book, 
 and I never felt the want of any other. It has been my 
 hourly study, and all my knowledge of the doctrines, 
 and all my acquaintance with the experience and 
 realities of religion, has been derived from the Bible 
 only. I think religious people do not read the Bible 
 enough. Books about religion may be useful, but they 
 will not do instead of the simple truth of the Bible." 
 He then spoke of his regret at parting with us. '' No- 
 thing convinces me more of the reality of the change 
 within me, than the feelings with which I can con- 
 template a separation from my fjimily. I now feel so 
 weaned from the earth, my affections so much in heaven, 
 that I can leave you all without a regret. Yet I do not 
 love you less, but God more." I asked him whether 
 his mind had been distressed for the last few months at 
 the thought of parting from us ; for knowing the strength 
 of his affections,.! fancied he must have suffered much 
 in subduing and controlling them. '' Oh I my dear 
 
 r , the pain, the agony I have felt, when I said to 
 
 myself, ' I must leave them all.' You will never know 
 what bitter hours I have passed : none but God knows 
 what it cost me to break those ties which bound me so 
 strongly to earth. Never, never will you know what 
 I suffered, as I looked at you all, and felt my strength 
 declining, and remembered it must soon be a last look. 
 I thought this must be the bitterness of death; and 
 even after I had found acceptance and peace with God, 
 I still suffered deeply in the prospect of separation, and 
 
CLOSING SCENES. 259 
 
 never supposed I could willingly part from my family. 
 I knew that God would support me, and carry me 
 through this trial ; but a trial I felt it must be to the 
 last : and yet, see me now in the immediate prospect 
 of parting — I am quite happy, and can leave you all 
 without a tear — I know God can nnite ns all again — 
 and I can trust him here as I can in everything else. 
 Now this change must have been effected by God. It 
 is so evident, I can not mistake it. I could not have 
 acquired this composure myself. God has done it, but 
 I have suffered much in the process." He always ap- 
 peared comforted when he heard that any one had 
 prayed for him, and frequently entreated those about 
 him to pray; but he used to add, "Do not pray for 
 my life, but that I may have comfort in death." I was 
 
 writing to W , and asked him if he had any message 
 
 to send. He said, " They have been very kind to me, 
 but I am too ill to think of them." Afterwards, 
 seeming to recollect himself, he said, "Come and hold 
 my head while I try to remember them. I would send 
 
 some message. Tell dear M that I am sufiering 
 
 very much, but I can and do rejoice in my sufferings ; 
 for evpry pain is bringing me nearer to heaven. I shall 
 not see her again in this world ; " here he sedftied quite 
 exhausted. After a while he revived a little. "I want 
 
 to say something to dear Mr. ; you told me he 
 
 had been praying for me. I wish him to know how 
 much I have been comforted by this. How grateful 
 I feel to him ! ' tell him how much I value his prayers, 
 and that they have been answered; for Christ is now 
 precious to me. Through him the fear of death is 
 taken away. I want to tell him more. If I can I 
 will to-morrow, but say this — " He now became ex- 
 ceedingly ill; he breathed with great difl&culty; he 
 panted for breath, and his struggles were distressing. 
 The sufferings of his body affected his mind, and he 
 
260 LIFE or WILBERFOECE EICHMOND. 
 
 seemed to lose his comfort and confidence in Christ. 
 He cried out many times, "Oh! pray for me, pray 
 for me, pray for me. This is hard to bear; how dif- 
 ferent the pains of death are to any other ! It is such 
 a struggle to get free." He appeared to suffer much in 
 his mind. My father said, "My dear boy, Christ is 
 still with you. When he once fixes his love, he never 
 takes it away. You may not see him just now, 
 but he is not the less near to you. Nothing can, 
 nothing shall separate you from Christ." Willy cried 
 out, "And did he not say, ^My God, my God, why 
 hast thou forsaken me ? ' " Then he twice repeated, 
 "For a small moment I have forsaken thee, but with 
 great mercies will I gather thee." "Oh! papa! — what 
 shall I do — I am suffering so very much?" "JSTot 
 one pang too many, my child," said his weeping father, 
 while the big tears rolled down his cheek. " I know 
 it, papa," he answered: "I believe it, I feel it." He 
 continued in a state of suffering nearly the whole day. 
 Towards evening he sunk into a sort of lethargy. He 
 seemed scarcely to know any thing that was passing. 
 About eleven o'clock at night, my father read the 23rd 
 Psalm, and prayed with him. He was able to at- 
 tend, and" it seemed to cheer him. He was better in the 
 morning, and had much comfortable conversation with 
 
 his father throughout the day. Mr. G came to 
 
 see him. Willy wished to converse with him. He 
 was fearful at first, and expressed some doubt of his 
 salvation: but Mr. G encouraged him by his re- 
 marks. He assured him that Christ would never give 
 up a soul who had fled to him for refuge. Here Willy, 
 interrupted him, "I believe it, yes, I believe it. 
 Christ has brought me thus far, and he will not leave 
 me. He has said, "Whosoever cometh unto me, I 
 will in no icise cast out." I feel now quite certain that 
 Christ will save me." He then adverted to his love for 
 
CONVEKSATIONS WITH HIS FAMILY. 261 
 
 US, and the parting with us. '' We have been a happy 
 family; — so closely united! Every two of us can say, 
 how dearly we love each other — our love has been more 
 than common — I think we shall be a family of love in 
 heaven — two of us are in heaven already, and there will 
 soon be a third — Oh! I feel persuaded we shall meet 
 
 again." Mr. Gr proposed to read a chapter in the 
 
 Bible. Willy said he could listen, and Mr. Gr chose 
 
 parts of the two last chapters of the book of Eevelation. 
 He appeared greatly refreshed. His face beamed with 
 joy while he listened to the sublime and glorious descrip- 
 tion of the new Jerusalem, and anticipated the moment 
 of his own. entrance into the holy city, to go out no 
 more for ever ; when he should join the melody of the 
 heavenly choir, and make one of the countless throng 
 before the throne of God. " Glorious things are spoken 
 of thee, city of God." After a short pause, he said to 
 
 Mr. G , '' Tell me about the soug of Moses and the 
 
 Lamb, my memory is failing. Eepeat it to me." Mr. 
 
 G repeated from Eev. xv., " Great and marvellous 
 
 are thy works, Lord God Almighty ; just and true are 
 thy ways, King of saints ; who shall not fear thee, O 
 Lord, and glorify thy name, for thou only art holy ; for 
 all nations shall come and worship before thee, for thy 
 judgments are made manifest." 
 
 ^' Mr. G took leave of him, and sometime after his 
 
 departure, Willy said, " Mr. G seemed sent to bring 
 
 the close of the Bible to be the consolation of my life. 
 It is singular that he should have fixed on those chapters, 
 for I have read them so often ; again and again in my 
 hours of sorrow ; longing, praying, but not daring to 
 believe I should ever be admitted to that glorious com- 
 pany ; how have I wept over them ! " 
 
 " Mr. F paid him a visit, and Wilberforce was 
 
 very earnest in pressing him to examine the state of his 
 mind, saying, "I would neither deceive nor be deceived." 
 
262 LIFE OF WILBEEFOECE EICHMOND. 
 
 Mr. F replied, " You are now too much exhausted 
 
 for conversation ; I have heard from your papa the state 
 of your mind, and I am quite satisfied with his opinion 
 of you : for our ideas of true conversion are the same." 
 ^' Yes," said he, " but I would rather you should exam- 
 ine me for yourself, — I want you also to search me." 
 
 "He asked Mr. F whether the feeling of assurance 
 
 was necessary to salvation. "I do not," he said, ''always 
 feel alike ; sometimes when illness overpowers me, my 
 comfort is gone, and I am afraid that after all I shall 
 perish ; but I know that in my darkest season I still love 
 my Saviour above everything." 
 
 " My dear Wilberforce," said Mr. F , " you can- 
 not have a more able counsellor in your perplexities, 
 than your affectionate father, and your very weak state 
 inclines me to be brief. Our religion may be explained 
 in a few words, as least as far as it is necessary to your 
 peace and safety. You must have a title to heaven, and 
 a meetness for its enjoyment ; you need not now trouble 
 yourself on other points. The title is Christ's merits. 
 Do you rest on them alone for acceptance with God? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I have no other hope or trust. If I have 
 confidence or comfort, I get it only there!" ''AYell, 
 then, the next thing is a meetness for heaven. If any 
 man belong to Christ he has the mind of Christ ; he is 
 a new creature ; religion is his life as well as his peace." 
 "Indeed, indeed," he replied, "I do love Christ; I long 
 to be where he is, to dwell with him for ever." " Then 
 all is safe, Wilberforce ; I am quite satisfied that he who 
 has worked the one in you, has procured the other for 
 
 you." " But your eye, Mr. F , your eye looks as if 
 
 it doubted (5f me." "l^o, my dear Wilberforce, I am not 
 doubting, I am looking on you with deep interest." 
 
 " Mr. F went away with a promise to see him 
 
 again in a few days; but my brother died before the 
 time fixed for another visit. 
 
CONVEESATIONS WITH HIS FAMILY. 263 
 
 " He slept for some time, and .then suddenly sat up in 
 his cliair with apparent ease ; he breathed freely, spoke 
 distinctly, seemed free from pain, and his countenance 
 looked satisfied and happy. I was quite surprised at the 
 change, and said, "My dear Willy, you seem much 
 better." "Yes," he answered, "I am much better. 
 This is a precious moment, and now I hope I shall 
 be able to talk to you a little. This is an answer 
 
 to prayer, dear F . I have much longed to glorify 
 
 God in my death, and ever since last Sunday I have 
 been praying for one hour of ease and strength to speak 
 to you all for the last time, and tell you what I now 
 think of the importance of religion. Hitherto you have 
 seen me so overpowered by disease, that you could not 
 judge of my comfort and confidence in my principles. 
 But God has granted my request, and I will glorify 
 him." He then began an interesting conversation, and 
 spoke with astonishing ease. He was very plain and 
 sincere. He told me kindly of faults and errors which 
 he had observed in me ; and he endeavoured to correct 
 them, and encouraged me from his own experience to 
 persevere in striving against them. " My dear, my 
 
 very dear F ^," he said, " I hope we shall meet in 
 
 heaven. I could not talk to you in this calm manner, 
 if I. did not believe we should meet again. But you 
 have much to learn — much to do before you can get 
 there. There is but one road, and without an entire 
 dedication of the heart to God, you cannot walk in it.'' 
 He spoke of the dangers of a religious education ; of 
 having the form of religion, while the heart was still 
 unchanged, and the will u.nsubdued. He spoke also of 
 what he called sentimental religion, telling me how easy 
 it was to write in beautiful poetical language without 
 any real feeling of heart ; and he mentioned some in- 
 stances where religion was but a bright fiction of the 
 imagination ; and others where it proved itself a trans- 
 
264: LIFE OF WILBERFOECE RICHMOND. 
 
 forming principle in the life and conduct. "My dear 
 sister, be a real disciple — be in earnest — you will want 
 /iear^religion when you come to die — the poetry of 
 religion will not do then ; " — reminding me of some 
 letters I had written to him. He again recommended 
 to me most earnestly the constant study of the Bible. 
 "Here," he said, "I speak in a peculiar manner from 
 recent experience — for the last three months the Bible 
 has been my sole instructor — it has gradually led me on 
 to clear light and real experience, till every promise is 
 my own. I have read the greater part of it through, 
 several times during my illness ; and often on a Sunday, 
 when I have spent the day alone, I have read the whole 
 of the New Testament, unable to leave off till I had 
 grasped all the mind of the Spirit at once. Perhaps 
 papa has thought I read too few religious books — he 
 has looked anxious at my neglect of many he put in my 
 way — I do not give myself in this respect for an exam- 
 ple — but I have found little benefit from books, sermons, 
 or conversations. The Bible, the Bible alone has taught 
 me everything. If I read books on religion, however 
 excellent, the thought always haunted me — this is hu- 
 man — it may be wrong. I could not rest till I went to 
 the Bible. Here I felt sure that all was divine and 
 infallible ; and I found such comfort in the simple truth 
 of God's word, that I set aside every other book, dissatis- 
 fied. I may well be earnest, then, in pressing you to go 
 to the Bible." 
 
 "He then said, "But you must pray over the Bible; 
 — without the teaching of the Spirit it will do you no 
 good : you must apply it as_ you go on to yourself, and 
 feel it personally, or you will get no benefit, though you 
 stand the whole day over it. I have been in the habit 
 of reading the Bible on my knees, and I recommend you 
 to do the same. It encourages prayer. I have found 
 it very useful to turn Scripture into prayer, using the 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH HIS FAMILY. 265 
 
 very words. There is not a psalm I have not turned 
 into a prayer. I have felt so safe in making prayers 
 from the Bible^ because then I knew I could not err; 
 and let prayer always be preceded by self-examination ; 
 lay your heart bare before God : indulge not even a 
 doubtful feeling ; one secret sin would cloud all." 
 
 '^ I had marked the depression of his spirit when the 
 symptoms of his disease appeared more unfavourable; 
 and I asked him if he had any fear of death now. He 
 answered me with great firmness, — "No, not any — I 
 have unshaken confidence in Jesus as a Saviour — he has 
 taken away the sting of death, and for his sake the 
 Father will receive me as his child." I replied, '' You 
 had, dear Willy, great doubts of your salvation, and 
 many fears of death during some periods of your ill- 
 ness." '^Oh, yes; indeed I had! I have been on the 
 verge of despair, and have laiown its agonies. My pain 
 of body was at times very great, but nothing in com- 
 parison with the agony of my spirit. I struggled on in 
 darkness and in silence. It was known only to myself 
 and God ; but I was sup,ported and carried through all, 
 and now I would encourage you, my dearest sister, by 
 telling you what succeeded in my case. T will tell you 
 just what I did. After a season of m\ich doubt and 
 terror, during which I felt as if all was delusion, and I 
 should be cast into hell, 1 determined to go at once 
 boldly to God, in the name of Christ, and plead the pro- 
 mises which were then before me in the Bible. I fell 
 down upon my knees — I groaned — I wept — I prayed 
 most fervently — I said, 'Here I am, Lord, a poor perish- 
 ing sinner — my sins are heavy and alarming — I cannot 
 bear them myself — I feel my body decaying — I must 
 soon die, and I dare not appear before Thee, the pure 
 and holy God, as I now am — I read of a Saviour thou 
 hast provided for sinners, and I come to him to be saved 
 from eternal death — I come to the cross of Christ — I 
 
 23 
 
266 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 cling to it as my only hope — if tlaou, Christ, wilt not 
 save me, no one else can, and I must perish — Lord save 
 me — Jesus! have mercy on me ! ' I persevered thus again 
 and again — I kept on praying in this way — I took no- 
 thing with me bat a broken heart, and a contrite spirit, 
 and I said, ' Lord ! I will not go except thou bless me.' 
 I know I prayed sincerely, and I was heard and an- 
 swered. I foand that promise true. " Whosoever Com- 
 eth unto me, I will in no wise cast out." God was good 
 to me. My soul required severe discipline; but he 
 comforted me in his own time — I found Christ able and 
 willing to do all I required — I was enabled to receive 
 him as my complete salvation, and I sometimes had 
 such peace in believing on him, — such hours of unspeak- 
 able happiness, that the remembrance of it makes up 
 for all this suflPering. I never again lost my hope in 
 Christ, though for the moment my disease overpowered 
 me and clouded the past. Now I tell you all this for 
 your encouragement and direction. Seek as I did, and 
 you shall find the same pardon for sin, the same peace 
 in death." We next talked about prayer. I told him 
 of the difficulties I felt. I remember well his eager look, 
 
 as he said, '' Not find comfort in prayer, dear F ! 
 
 It sounds like a strange contradiction to me — it is my 
 only comfort. When I am able to pray, I am sure to 
 be happy, and my prayer is, that I may have strength 
 and sense to pray. But I must remember how differently 
 we are circumstanced — I am just entering eternity — I 
 see everything in a new light, as I never did before — as 
 none but a dying person can see. All my thoughts and 
 feelings are changed — I have not memory now to recol- 
 lect how I used to feel, when I first began to pray — 
 perhaps I had the same doubts — my memory is gone — 
 Oh ! how the Lord has humbled me — I used to be so 
 proud of my understanding — I can now scarcely answer 
 'ho simplest question." Presently he seemed to gather 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH HIS FAMILY. 267 
 
 strength, and said, ''We were talking about prayer; 
 yes, all my comfort is in prayer. There must be com- 
 fort in prayer — the chief thing is to examine your 
 heart — ask God to search it for you — take care you are 
 cherishing no secret sin or hidden idol. God is a mer- 
 ciful God ; but he is a jealous God, and he will have 
 the whole heart. Only persevere in praying, and in- 
 deed you will find comfort in prayer." He then told 
 me how seriously it had been impressed upon his mind, 
 that his death was to be the life of others. '' I think, 
 my dearly beloved sister, it is for your good ; and will 
 not this thought make ypu more in earnest? Oh! I 
 would die ten painful deaths to save one soul! We shall 
 meet again in heaven. JSTow come and kiss me and let 
 me lean upon you." He rested a short time, and said, 
 
 '' Now send for H , I want to speak to her while my 
 
 strength lasts." His conversation with her was very 
 searching, but very affectionate. He Joved this sister 
 very dearly. She was naturally volatile and buoyant 
 in her spirits, and this disposition sometimes betrayed 
 her into levity. The liveliness of her conversation had 
 often pleased him, but he now thought he had encou- 
 raged her in some things inconsistent with real piety. 
 He was earnest beyond his strength in conversing with 
 her. He put very plain and close questions: — 
 saying, " I must be answered ; I must speak plainly ; 
 I am afraid, my beloved sister, you do not think enough 
 about religion. I do not see decided proofs of real con- 
 version in you. I have not a sure hope, that if you die 
 
 as you now are, I shall meet you in heaven. Oh ! H 
 
 it is my last request, — with my dying breath I am 
 entreating you to seek the salvation of your soul. Sup- 
 pose you were in my place — in this chair instead of me 
 — waiting for death day by day — could you meet it as 
 I do ? Oh 1 do, my dear sister ! do think of death while 
 you are in health. If I had not sought Christ before I was 
 
268 LIFE OF WILBEEFOKCE KICHMOND. 
 
 brought so low, I should have had no strength or sense 
 to seek him now. I went to Jesus as a poor weak sin- 
 ner, and found sweet rest, and I am happy now amidst 
 all this suffering." He spoke in a very affectionate 
 manner of the subject nearest her heart. "Your merry 
 peal will soon succeed my death-knell. Take care that 
 the good seed is not choaked by the pleasures of life I 
 
 Seek first the kingdom of God. Kemember H , 
 
 you have to die. Oh ! I cannot leave you in peace, unless 
 I have good hope that I shall meet you in heaven. 
 If I thought there was one amongst you — oh! I cannot 
 
 bear that thought!" He continued, "H , there is 
 
 nothing so opposed to religion, — to the mind of Christ, 
 as levity and trifling. It will keep you back more than 
 anything. Take my solemn warning — I speak from my 
 own experience, — you will never be a consistent Chris- 
 tian, and you will never grow in grace, if you indulge 
 in habitual trifling conversation. It is not like the mind 
 of Christ; your temper is very playful and volatile, 
 and Satan may use it as a snare to injure your souL 
 Piety and levity cannot long dwell in the same heart. 
 One will destroy the other. * * * * You see, 
 
 dear H , I am very plain and sincere. I used to be 
 
 so shy. But I do not feel afraid of speaking my mind 
 now. How little does one care about the world and its 
 opinions when death is near; — death takes away all 
 reserve. I care not if the whole world were asssembled 
 around me — I would tell them what I now think of 
 religion — I should like to see many here, that I might 
 tell them what the Lord hath done for my soul." He 
 then sent for H — '—, his favourite brother and com- 
 panion. AVilly was much affected. He seemed to say 
 
 farewell to H with deep emotion. He entreated 
 
 him to supply his place in everything — particularly in 
 being a comfort to his father, and filling his place in 
 the ministry. On this latter subject he spoke much. 
 
OONVEKSATIONS WITH HIS FAMILY. 269 
 
 He said^ " From a child it has been my delight to think 
 of being a clergyman of the church of England ; but it 
 
 is God's will to pass me by, and take you, dear H , 
 
 and honour you thus. I resign my place to you ; fill 
 it faithfully." Then turning to his father, he said, 
 
 " Give H a double portion of your love. He is to 
 
 fill my place, as well as his own, to you. I make a 
 transfer to him of all the affection you have borne to 
 me." He paused for breath, and, then continued, "We 
 have loved each other very dearly, we always loved as 
 brothers amidst our little quarrels, — did we not ? I love 
 you now more than ever, and I must talk to you about 
 your souL" He addressed him in very plain language 
 asking him questions. H seemed confused and dis- 
 tressed; for there were others present. Willy said, 
 
 "Poor H , you feel shy on this subject — I used to 
 
 feel the same once — I could not speak once, but that 
 reserve is all gone ; I am not ashamed to say what I 
 feel now. You will feel as I do, some day." He 1j|en 
 
 begged that all would retire and leave H alone 
 
 with him, No one heard the conversation which passed 
 between them. He next sent for his younger brothers ; 
 they wept much as he addressed them. He spoke very 
 touchingly to his younger sister, who was then a little 
 child c " Would you like to meet poor Willy in heaven^ 
 dear C— > — , then you must love God. Pray to God to 
 make you love him, and to make you a good child, a 
 holy child. Will you promise me one thing, my dear 
 
 C , that you will never go out of your room in the 
 
 morning till you have read a few verses in the Bible, 
 and prayed to God. If you do not pray to God, you 
 will not meet poor Willy in heaven. I will give you a 
 verse to think of when I am dead : " Suffer little 
 children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of 
 such is the kingdom of heaven." Say that verse to 
 yourself every night when you lie down." 
 
 23* 
 
270 LIFE OF WILBERFOKCE RICHMOND. 
 
 *' He sent for several people in the village to come 
 and bid Mm farewell. There was one old person for 
 wliom lie had a special regard. She had been much 
 with him in his childhood, and he used to tell her, " if 
 he lived to be a man, and had a house of his own, she 
 should come and keep it." He held out his hand to her 
 affectionately, and, alluding to his promise, said "I 
 shall have no house in this world, Nanny, for you to 
 come and keep — but I shall still have a house — a house 
 not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." His 
 countenance as he spoke assumed a singularly sweet 
 and happy expression — such a beaming look of love 
 and joy, that every one noticed it. The hectic flush 
 glowed on his cheek — his eyes sparkled "^ith a peculiar 
 lustre — and the marble forehead was smooth and placid. 
 It was the parting loveliness of a body irradiated by a 
 soul full of meekness, calmness, joy and confidence. 
 Instead of being exhausted by such lengthened conver- 
 satibns, as we expected, he seemed full of vigour, and 
 rather refreshed. He conversed a good deal with both 
 his parents. ''What a striking answer," he said, "I 
 have had to prayer; God has allowed me time and 
 strength to speak to you all, and has so filled me with 
 sweet peace and joy, that I never could have conceived 
 there was such happiness to be known here." He then 
 said, "I should like the whole family to assemble round 
 me, that I may look at you altogether, while I am so 
 happy. He then offered up a fervent and touching 
 prayer to God, blessing him for his great goodness, and 
 commending us to him for salvation. He paused a 
 moment, and concluded, ''Lord, now lettest thou thy 
 servant depart in peace ; for mine eyes have seen thy 
 salvation." 
 
 " He remained in this happy frame of mind a short 
 time, when all seemed to pass away as a dream; the 
 ^ever returned — great suffering succeeded — and his 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 271 
 
 whole frame was agitated. At intervals he referred to 
 the. past season of happiness, and the recollection of it 
 comforted him. He repeated what he had before said, 
 several times, ''I would go through all again for one 
 such sweet hour." 
 
 " In the evening he was dejected by a dread of deli- 
 rium, and prayed earnestly that he might retain his 
 senses to the last, often exclaiming, " I cannot glorify 
 Thee in delirium." He called this a happy day, 
 because he thought he had done good by his faithful 
 addresses. 
 
 " My father came to read and pray with him before 
 he retired to rest. Willy said, " I am too tired to listen. 
 I should like to dream of the past ; papa, there will be 
 no distraction in heaven." 
 
 "Friday was a mournful day. My brother's suffer- 
 ings were greatly increased. He could find no position 
 in which to rest. He breathed with difiiculty, and at 
 times seemed almost suffocated ; and the soul, as if in 
 sympathy ,with the body, became full of doubt and 
 terror. He called out in great agitation — "Oh! pray 
 for me — pray for me — say something to comfort me." 
 I read to him some verses from the forty-third of Isaiah. 
 He continued to exclaim, — " Oh I pray for me, pray for 
 me I I am in great suffering." I opened the Annals 
 of the Poor, and read to him the account of the Dairy- 
 man's Daughter's last hours. He listened attentively, 
 and then repeated the words, "The Lord deals very 
 gently with me, and gives me peace. It is not dark, 
 my Lord is there, and he is my light and salvation." 
 He appeared a little more composed, and I turned to 
 the tract of Little Jane. I read to him some passages. 
 "Ah I" said he, "they got safe through, and why not 
 
 I ? I am glad, dear F , that you thought of the 
 
 Dairyman's Daughter and Little Jane. They are just 
 the examples I want. They suffered much, but it v. as 
 
272 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICnMOND. 
 
 not dark to them. Oh, death! death! what is, it? I 
 have still to go through death — the dark valley. He 
 sat for some time in silence, with his head resting on 
 the table. Though he did not speak, I could perceive 
 that there was something passing in his mind which 
 shook his whole frame. Suddenly, with a wild expres- 
 sion of countenance, and in a bitter tone, he exclaimed, 
 ''Oh! agony! agony! agony! agony! I shall perish 
 after all." I was much frightened, and went to call 
 my father. I told him Willy must be delirious. When 
 my father saw him he said, '' Oh no ! this is no de- 
 lirium. I know exactly what he is passing through." 
 He sat down beside Wilberforce, and began to talk 
 soothingly to him, but he refused to be comforted. He 
 still cried out with his whole remaining strength, "Oh, 
 agony ! agony ! agony ! Satan will have me after all. 
 Papa, pray for me ; he tells me I shall be lost — he tells 
 me my sins will damn me. Oh, papa, this is agony ! 
 all is dark, dark — all gone — all lost — and has Christ 
 brought me thus far to leave me at last ? " My dear 
 father was much overcome at this scene, and struggled 
 hard for composure. He repeated text after text ; and 
 with apparent calmness, and in his own tender and 
 peculiar manner, enlarged on the faithful love of the 
 Saviour. He assured Willy of his full persuasion that 
 Christ's honor was pledged in presenting his soul safe 
 to the Father : that this was the last attack of Satan ; 
 that he took advantage of his bodily weakness, to dis- 
 tress, when he could not harm him. But poor Willy 
 seemed still more agitated. The cold drops stood on his 
 forehead — his look betrayed the deepest anguish, and 
 he shook with terror. '' Oh ! papa ! what will become 
 of me," he cried ; " I am going into the dark valley 
 alone. Jesus has left me. It is all dark, dark, dark. 
 The rod and the staff do not support me. Satan fights 
 hard for me, and he will carry me away at last." His 
 
CONVEESATIONS. 273 
 
 bodily sufferings seemed quite forgotten, and were lost 
 in tlie bitter anguish of his mind, and he still continued 
 to repeat, '' Agony I agony." My dear father tried 
 again by a variety of argument, and by a frequent 
 appeal to Scripture, to support his despairing child, but 
 in vain. He seemed given up for a time to such sharp 
 and sore besetments as baffled all attempts to administer 
 comfort. After a silence of some minutes, and when he 
 seemed nearly fainting, my dear father solemnly re- 
 peated, ''Simon, Simon, Satan hath desired to have 
 thee, that he may sift thee as wheat ; bat I have prayed 
 for thee, that thy faith fail not." These were the first 
 words which made any impression on Wilberforce. 
 He said, " Ah ! papa, I used to love those words, but 
 they are gone ; I will try to understand them ; say 
 them again." My father repeated the affecting words 
 of the Saviour to his tempted disciple. "Willy listened 
 to them with intense* interest. When he heard the 
 words, ''but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith 
 fail not," he exclaimed, "Oh, my dear papa, do you 
 think that Christ is praying for me? Does he pray 
 for me in this hour of darkness, when I have no faith?" 
 "Certainly, my dear boy, I cannot doubt it. I am 
 quite sure he is praying for you at this instant. Take 
 courage, then. Do you think God will not hear Christ's 
 prayer? "Him the Father heareth always." His 
 mind became a little calmer, but he still looked uneasy, 
 and repeated slowly, " Can I have been brought to love 
 him so, only to perish? Can such feelings as I have, 
 such a hatred of sin, be fitting me for hell? No, it 
 cannot be — such feelings could not exist in hell — He 
 will save me, as the chief of sinners." Presently he 
 exclaimed, "Jesus has not left me. I see him again — 
 more precious than ever — my Saviour — my hope. How 
 could I distrust him — I am more than conof^eror. 
 Papa, I feel safe — I am Christ's. Why did I doubt? 
 
274 LIFE OF WILBEKFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 I am so strengtliened. Dear papa, I can give you no 
 idea of tlie augiiisli of my heart. It exceeded all 1 
 supposed endurable. I thought myself in Satan's hands. 
 It must have been such anguish as this which made the 
 Saviour cry out, "My God, my God, why hast thou 
 forsaken me?" I never knew what suffering was be- 
 fore ; I thought I was lost." *' And what do you now 
 think." "I have great peace, firtn confidence; I am 
 so strengthened, papa, in my faith — so strengthened — 
 hell shall not prevail; Christ has saved me — none shall 
 pluck me out of his hand. I should not be afraid to 
 grapple with this dreadful foe again; I should not be 
 afraid, if Jesus were standing by " — and then shuddering 
 at his own recollections, he added, ''But, papa, I hope 
 God will not see it necessary to try me in this way 
 again ; I hope not. It was indeed a dreadful struggle." 
 " Why say so ? " said his father, '' it is possible God 
 may see fit thus to try your faith again. You see how 
 he has supported you — you have been the conqueror — 
 why then shrink ? " 
 
 "Oh no! I will not shrink, I could go through it 
 again, if it were God's will; I could not see my Saviour 
 in that dark hour, but now I know he was near me." 
 And then shuddering at his own words, he added, " but 
 I hope it will not be i;.ecessary again to try me' thus." 
 
 " This last sorrow attached him more than ever to 
 his father. He could not bear that he should be out of 
 his sight, and listened to every word which fell from 
 him, with the most grateful love and confiding simplicity. 
 He truly hung upon his lips. Never was there a more 
 affecting sight, than to behold this loving father and no 
 less loving son, now blending every feeling and thought 
 of their hearts together, and so closely united in 
 religious intercourse, that they seemed as it were a twin. 
 souL *" 
 
 "My father was obliged to leave Wilberforce for a 
 
CONVEESATIONS. 275 
 
 little while ; on liis return^ tlie latter, looking up with 
 a smile; said, '^Papa, I cannot pray now — I am so very 
 ill; but I have been praising.^'' '^For what, my dear 
 boy? " "I have been blessing God for giving me such 
 a father; when I can say nothing else, I can praise 
 God for such a dear father ; to whom I can tell all, and who 
 helps me on to heaven." This was almost too much for 
 my father ; he could neither speak nor weep, he seemed 
 absorbed in unutterable feelings ; the fountain of tears 
 was dried up. 
 
 " Willy did not wait for a reply. '^ I am sorry, papa 
 I did not open my mind to you before; how much 
 happier I should have been, if I had done so. I have 
 now no reserve — T can tell you every thing. You are 
 my friend and my guide ; my dear, dear papa, I do love 
 you ; you have so helped me in my great trial." 
 
 " In the evening he conversed with his father on the 
 bitter agony through which he had passed in the morn- 
 ing, with calmness and faith. Some one present asked 
 him what he thought to be the best evidences of conver- 
 sion — ''A broken heart and a contrite spirit," he re- 
 plied, '' This is what I brought to God, and it was the 
 only evidence I could rely on." 
 
 " The next day he expressed some impatience at 
 lingering so long, earnestly desiring that this might be 
 his last day ; but he soon checked himself, and prayed 
 against a restless spirit. He sometimes cried out, " How 
 long, how long ! when shall I be free ! How my spirit 
 struggles to get away from this poor weary body ! Papa, 
 do you think I shall linger here another day ? " And 
 v/ithout waiting for a reply, he said, ''But my times are 
 in thy hands, O God — I must die daily — I will patiently 
 wait thy will." He called me to him, and gave me a 
 copy of Miss Jerram's Memoir. He said it had been of 
 great use to him, and that God's dealings with her had 
 sometimes comforted him. " We both passed through 
 
276 LIFE OF WILBEEFOECE EICHMOND. 
 
 great sorrows, but Grod comforted us botli in his owd 
 
 time. Eead it, dear F ; I give you my copy ; I 
 
 have no further need of it, and may God bless it to you.' 
 He asked to have the 17th chapter of St. John read to 
 him, and remarked, " How very phain is the doctrine of 
 that chapter ! I wonder there should be so much contro- 
 versy about it." 
 
 " What is to-morrow ? " he asked. " It is the Sab- 
 bath." He seemed pleased, and earnestly begged that 
 the congregation might be requested to' pray for him in 
 the church. On Sunday morning he was much weaker, 
 and his end was evidently fast approaching. To a kind 
 friend who had nursed -him, he said, "How do I look 
 now ? " She saw the approach of death in his languid 
 eye and pallid countenance. " Yon look worse. Master 
 Wilberforce, I do not think that you can live much 
 longer." The effect produced by her opinion was truly 
 astonishing. His dim eye lighted up, all his fea- 
 tures assumed a new life, and turning to her he said, 
 
 " Oh, thank you, dear Mrs. G , good news ! you tell 
 
 me good news. Shall I indeed be in heaven to-day ? " 
 My father came into the room. "Papa," said he, 
 " how do I look — am I altered ? " " No, my dear boy, 
 I see little difference in you." He was evidently dis- 
 appointed. " Do you see no difference ? " said * he, 
 
 "Mrs. G^ does. She has made me happy, — she 
 
 thinks I may die to-day." My father sat with him the 
 whole of the day while we were at church, and Willy 
 asked him to* read the service for the visitation of the 
 sick. He listened with devout attention, and when it 
 was ended he said, " Oh ! my dear papa, what beautiful 
 prayers! what an affecting service! it expresses my 
 whole heart." 
 
 " He then said to his mother, " I love to look at you, 
 mamma. I love to smile at you, but I want to smile 
 at Jesus." He asked her to draw near, and let him 
 
HIS LAST MOMENTS. 277 
 
 lean on her bosom. ^'It is sweet to lean on yon, dear 
 mamma ; but I long to lean on tlie bosom of Jesus." 
 He conversed with his father in the afternoon for the 
 last time. Eeference is made to the conversation in his 
 papers as follows : " 
 
 *' Agony — conflict — triumph — glorying in this second 
 struggle with Satan — expecting another struggle — not 
 fearing it. The enemy subdued, bruised under his feet. 
 Longing to be in heaven — not able to form any idea of 
 another world, yet full of confidence of being there — 
 'I know in whom I am trusting' — dreading to linger, 
 yet bowing to the will of God. His joy in the prayers 
 of the church for him — Christ will save me." 
 
 "He had been accustomed to teach a class in the 
 Sunday school, and bSgged that his dying message 
 might be written down and sent to the children that 
 evening. He had not been able to lie in bed for a week, 
 owing to the pain in his side ; but on Sunday evening 
 he expressed a wish to be undressed and put into bed, 
 being inclined to sleep. He was accordingly put to bed, 
 and lay very tranquil and comfortable. My father 
 stood watching beside him till he thought him asleep. 
 He then went to his study, as he afterwards told us, to 
 pray, that if it were God's will, his child might have 
 quiet and ease in his last moments; for he much 
 dreaded the severity of a dying agony, wliich from the 
 past he thought probable. As he was going away he 
 blessed him, and looking at him as he lay, serene and 
 beautiful in his repose, he said, " So He giveth His be- 
 loved sleep." Willy opened his eyes on hearing these 
 words, and replied, ''Yes, dear papa, and the rest 
 which Christ gives is sweet." These were his last words. 
 He immediately sunk into a long and peaceful slumber. 
 
 We were sitting near him. Mrs. , his faithful 
 
 nu.rse, stood and watched beside him. We could hear 
 distinctly every breath he drew, and the least change 
 
 24 
 
278 LIFE OP WILBERFOKCE HICnMOND. 
 
 in tlie sound was perceptible. One or two breathings 
 were slower and longer, wbich made ns get up and look 
 at him. He appeared as if slumbering very sweetly. 
 There was no alteration in his countenance, and we 
 
 were going to sit down again, when Mrs. said, 
 
 '^ Call your papa, ^immediately." We did so, and he 
 came just in time to hear his last sigh. I think he 
 awoke from sleep but felt no pain, nor was sensible of 
 death. My father raised Willy's head upon his arm, 
 and contemplated it for a minute. The countenance 
 looked placid, as if it had beheld the Saviour's face 
 in righteousness and was satisfied. My father pressed 
 the lifeless body to his bosom, and burst into a flood of 
 tears; struggling with nature's anguish. At length, 
 subduing his feelings, he said, '"My child is a saint in 
 glory." He bid us all follow him to the study, that we 
 might praise God for his mercy and loving-kindness. 
 He opened the Bible and read the two last chapters of 
 the Book of Revelations, and then knelt down and 
 prayed with us. It was a moment not to be forgotten. 
 Our dear father appeared so absorbed in the contempla- 
 tion of his child's entrance into heaven, and his union 
 with the spirits of the just made perfect, as to be 
 scarcely conscious of the presence of his family around 
 him. 
 
 ''Between the death and the faneral of my brother, 
 my dear father's mind was often severely exercised. 
 Sometimes he would weep, and say, ' All thy waves and 
 storms are gone over me I ' and then, ' Precious in the 
 sight of the Lord is the death of his saints ! ' 'He giveth 
 and he taketh away, and blessed be his holy name ! ' He 
 would rise early in the morning to gaze on the peaceful 
 countenance of his departed child. We overheard him 
 giving vent to the mingled emotions of his heart in 
 the chamber of death. But he was comforted in tribu- 
 lation, and he returned to his family, to soothe their 
 
niS LAST MOMENTS. 279 
 
 sorrows with the comfort wherewith he was comforted 
 of God. lie said little, but his calm and subdued 
 ipirit bespoke Christian resignation. He used to teach 
 us that disquiet was the result of distrust, and Ave saw 
 in his silent submission an example of his own principle, 
 that his heart trusted in God. 'Though his hand be 
 lifted up to destroy, yet from that very hand do I expect 
 salvation.' "* 
 
 '^A vault was opened for Wilberforce under the 
 chancel. An incident occurred which much affected 
 us, and which showed the pious and affectionate sym- 
 pathy of the people in the sorrows of their pastor. 
 The workmen had not completed the vault till past 
 eleven o'clock at night, when they agreed to descend 
 into it, and consecrate the place which was shortly to 
 receive our brother's remains, by prayer. The sepul- 
 chre of the dead became holy ground. They joined in 
 praises to him who is the resurrection and the life, and 
 who has enlightened the gloomy grave by his own 
 presence. They continued in prayer till midnight, 
 commending their beloved minister to the grace of 
 God — invoking blessings on his family, and entreating 
 that- this mournful event might be overruled to the 
 increase of religion in the parish ; and may we not 
 hope, that their prayer was heard ? The subsequent 
 state of the village may be described as life from the 
 dead. In the morning of my brother's interment, my 
 father prayed with his family, I trust that the Spirit 
 of God poured out his special influence on the minds 
 of those present. A friend afterwards observed, " This 
 is the fervent prayer of a righteous man, which availeth 
 much. Can we doubt that it is recorded in heaven, and 
 will long be remembered on earth ! " 
 
 "From this time, our dear father gave himself up 
 to the work of tha ministry with redoubled diligence. 
 
 * Lei^bton. 
 
280 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 The congregations were large and attentive. He went 
 daily from, cottage to cottage amongst the poor, warn- 
 ing, exhorting, comforting, and confirming the soullf 
 of the disciples in the grace of God. He used to meet 
 persons nearly every evening in the week, for prayer 
 and exposition of the Scriptures. Many a heart in 
 Turvey still glows at the recollection of these seasons. 
 There was a general revival of religion, both amongst 
 old and young, and scarcely a day passed in which 
 some one did not anxiously inquire, " What must I do 
 to be saved?" There might be in this excitement 
 something that was- of a doubtful character, but there 
 were certainly many real conversions, and a general and 
 increased attention towards religion, unknown at any 
 former period. My father seldom left his parish, or saw 
 any one out of his own family ; to whom he became 
 still more endeared, and for whose progress and improve- 
 ment in religion, he manifested an anxiety even to de- 
 pression, and an earnestness which impaired his own 
 health. He had naturally very high spirits and was at 
 times playful in his conversation ; but now, though he 
 sometimes smiled, he was ever thoughtful, pensive and 
 silent. He appeared to be wounded by the least approxi- 
 mation to levity, and was continually pressing on us a 
 more serious apprehension of eternity. On one occasion, 
 when he thought we had indulged in a conversation too 
 little in unison with the late event — he made no remark 
 at the time, but the next morning I found on my table 
 the following note. 
 
 ''My dearest Child, 
 " There is a degree of relief to a tender spirit in the 
 communication of its thoughts and feelings. The affecting 
 scenes of this time twelvemonth have scarcely ever been 
 absent from my recollection even for a moment. In the 
 midst of our (perhaps too great) hilarities, I have pic- 
 
n I S D E A T II. 281 ^ 
 
 tared to my imagination Willy dying last week, and 
 this week daad in tlie house. Have we all felt and done 
 as mucli as we ouglit on tMs affecting occasion ? Is the 
 sacredness and solemnity of that interesting period pre- 
 served in our hearts ? Has the erection of another tablet 
 in the church sufficiently moved our afiections ? Mon- 
 day evening was a trying hour to my heart. My poor 
 Willy died on that day, and as on next Sunday we 
 
 buried him. Oh ! let you and I my dear F , ponder 
 
 these things in our souls for good, * * * ^ 
 Amidst the living, let us not forget the dead. 
 
 L. E." 
 
 '^ My dear father for many years had been accustomed 
 to write pastoral letters to his parishoners, which were 
 read in the school-room to those' who chose to attend. 
 The following address to them was written gt)on after my 
 brother's death. 
 
 ''My dear Friends, Neighbours, and 
 Parishioners, 
 
 ''In the midst of my sorrows at the removal of my 
 dearly-loved child, I wish you to know that the Lord 
 supports me wonderfully. I cannot yet come out 
 amongst you, but I cannot be quite silent. I have 
 therefore desired my dear friend and fellow-labourer 
 to read this letter to you. I have preached the gospel 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ to you more than nineteen 
 years, and through his mercy I have seen some precious 
 fruits of these labours amongst you, but never have I 
 witnessed a more beautiful or triumphant evidence that 
 I have not taught, preached, or lived in vain, ^han in 
 the case of my dear son, now a sharer of the Eedeemer's 
 glory in heaven. Oh I what a call for praise, that he 
 was not only my natural, but also my spiritual child. 
 Such was his love to Christ, and Christ's love to him 
 
 24* 
 
282 LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 that ± am lost in wonder, love, and praise. I am per- 
 suaded there are many of you Avho feel deeply for me. 
 You can weep with me wlien I weep, and rejoice with 
 me when I rejoice. You have prayed for my child. 
 It was the delight of his heart to hear of your love and 
 sympathy, and he dwelt on the interest you took in his 
 welfare to the very day of his death. He was indeed 
 a boy of no common mind, and the Lord sanctified his 
 great natural endowments to his own glory. I feel more 
 and more every hour, what a treasure I have lost ; but 
 at the same time I see more and more what a blessed- 
 ness he has attained. I have been watching him at 
 home and abroad, with a parent's eye and a Christian's 
 "heart, both for his body and soul, ever since disease 
 fastened on his frame. last summer, and no one will ever 
 know what my anxieties have been during that period. 
 But I trust God meant all for my good. The trial, 
 severely as I have felt it, has shown me more of myself, 
 and more of my God. My prayers for my dear child 
 have been abundantly answered. Blessed be God I he 
 was enabled to disclose his whole heart to me, and to 
 others, before he was taken away. He conversed with 
 many in a most useful and edifying manner, exhorting 
 them to prayer, faith, and holiness. He could tell them 
 all, that he knew in whom he trusted, and could look 
 at death with perfect peace. Believe me, then, when I 
 tell you that though I am greatly affected, and humbled 
 in the dust with a sense of sin and sorrow, yet that my 
 mercies are so abounding in abounding chastisement, 
 that I can, and do rejoice in tribulation. Oh! may it 
 work' patience, and patience experience, and experience 
 hope, and may hope make me more faithful and diligent, 
 that I be not ashamed of the gospel in principle or 
 practice, for your sakes, as well as my own. It is a 
 great comfort to me now, as I am kept from ministering 
 to you for a season, that you have one amongst you 
 
HIS DEATH. 283 
 
 who preaclies the same truth, and in the same spirit- 
 May our common Lord and Saviour bless him, and you, 
 and me together. I beg your prayers, at this season in 
 particular, for me and mine. They are no longer need- 
 ful for my beloved son. Let them be transferred to the 
 surviving members of my family. Pray especially for 
 those who watch for your souls ; that we may expe- 
 rience help and comfort in ourselves, and dispense 
 the word of life with more zeal and love. Pray that 
 there may be no divisions or wanderings of heart 
 amongst us — that we may be all of one mind and 
 judgment, in those things which make for our ever 
 lasting peace. Pray that the young children may be 
 brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. 
 My dear boy sent them a message on his dying bed, 
 which was read to them a short time before his happy 
 soul entered into rest. May the whole school remember 
 it for his sake, and their soul's sake. God bless you all, 
 my dear friends : I cannot doubt but that you will bear 
 me on your hearts to a throne of grace. 
 
 '' Your affectionate Minister, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 " When my father resumed his labours amongst the 
 people, he seemed to be aware of his declining health, 
 though he said nothing to the family. His nsual and 
 only reply, when we expressed our fears, was, "I must 
 work while it is called to-day: — the night cometh when 
 no man can work." He appeared moulded into the 
 spirit of the apostle; ''affectionately desirous to spend 
 and be spent in the service of his flock, and to impart 
 to them not only the gospel of Christ, but_ if it were 
 possible, his own soul also;" and the people caught 
 the holy contagion of his fervent zeal and love. There 
 was between them an almost unexampled reciprocity of 
 
2S4: LIFE OF WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 regard and desire ''to glorify God, and walk liumblj, 
 justly, and unblameably before him." ^ 
 
 "You will receive with indulgence the overflowings 
 of my heart towards a father whose memory is still 
 cherished by his family and by his parishoners, with 
 the deepest gratitude, and I hope we may add, with an 
 unfeigned anxiety to walk in the steps of his bright 
 example, and meet him again in everlasting glory. 
 Believe me, my very dear Sir, 
 Your affectionate and faithful 
 
 F " 
 
 * 1 Tess. ii. 8, 10. 
 
MB. RICHMOND'S THIRD DAUGHTER. 285 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ' Sure 'tis a solemn thing to die, my soul.' 
 
 Blair. 
 * This only can reconcile us to the grave, that our greatest hopes lie beyond 
 it.' IIOWK. 
 
 "We proceed with the same view of illustration, to 
 notice ^ome particulars relating to the third daughter of 
 Mr. Eichmond, who survived her father only a year 
 and a half. She was also the child of faith and prayer, 
 and equally the object of his tender solicitude with the 
 rest of his family. 
 
 I am not warranted to present her character as an 
 instance of high attainment in piety ; l)ut the exercises 
 of her mind during her last illness, sufficiently disclose 
 the salutary effect of a religious education ; and while 
 we indulge the pleasing hope that she has joined her 
 beloved father in the mansions of the blessed, her case 
 will afford additional encouragement to the Christian 
 parent, to sow in his children's hearts the seeds of 
 eternal life, which, watered "by the early and latter 
 rain," seldom fail to spring up and ripen to reward his 
 labours, as occasions arise in the varying circumstances 
 and events of life. 
 
 This amiable young woman ''possessed an exube- 
 rance of animal spirits, and a turn for the ludicrous, 
 which was very difficult to be restrained within the 
 bounds of discretion, and gave her dear father much 
 anxiety." * 
 
 * Extracted from Mrs. R.'s letter to the Author. 
 
286 ME. EICHMOND's Till ED DAUGHTER. 
 
 A volatile temper is in all cases a grevious liindrance 
 to intellectual and spiritual improvement. Good conver- 
 sation cannot consist with the indulgence of ''foolish 
 talking and jesting," and the mind is diverted by it 
 from solid and useful pursuits. "We may attempt to 
 excuse this cast of character, and speak of it as a play- 
 fulness of temper : but after all, it cannot be approved. 
 The disposition to amuse ourselves with the defects or 
 peculiarities of others, may generally be traced to vanity 
 in ourselves ; and is a habit of mind wholly inconsistent 
 with the spirit of humility and love, as well as a sad 
 forgetfulness of that solemn caution, " Every idle word 
 that a man shall speak, he shall give an account thereof 
 at the day of judgment."* * 
 
 There was not, however any thing cynical or severe 
 in the strain of this young person's conversation. She 
 was naturally frank, open, and kind hearted, and to 
 oblige another was a real satisfaction to herself. It was 
 rather a thoughtless propensity, common to many young 
 people, ''to giggle and make giggle,"! that I am lament- 
 ing. 
 
 It is difficult to speak of the dead so as not to wound 
 the tender feelings of the living, but when it is required 
 to pourtray character, the simple declaration of the truth 
 is best, and is indeed the only course consistent with 
 Christian integrity. She who forms the subject of my 
 present remarks, affixed a solemn seal to their truth in 
 the affecting review which she took of the past in her 
 dying hours. It is a source of much congratulation that 
 she is now beyond the opinion of man, whose imperfect 
 knowledge renders him at all times incompetent to pro- 
 nounce on his fellow-creatures, and should remind him 
 of the danger of assuming a prerogative he cannot claim. 
 "Judge nothing before the time." 
 
 Mr. Richmond placed his daughter at school at , 
 
 * MiitL xli. 36. f Cowpor's Ijotters. 
 
LETTERS FROM II E R F A T H E R. 287 
 
 wliere lie expected that the strictest attention would be 
 paid to her principles and conduct. I have no reason 
 to suppose that he was dissatisfied with the care and 
 vigilance of those to wliom he had entrusted his child ; 
 but whatever she had acquired in other respects, it does 
 not appear that at the close of her education she had 
 made any advancement in religion. 
 
 About this time Mr. E. addressed the following letter 
 to her : — 
 
 "DearH . 
 
 "And now comes your turn. Eeceive, read, mark, 
 and inwardly digest. I do not know how much you are 
 grown in stature, but I do hope you are growing in 
 wisdom. Then, whether you are to be a woman tall, or 
 a woman short, will signify very little. You will, if 
 your wisdom be of the right kind, be of a tall mind and 
 of tall attainments, and we will call you the little woman 
 with the great soul. I have heard of a person's soul 
 being so mean and small, that if you were to put it into 
 a hollow mustard-seed and shake it well, it would rattle. 
 Now that is not the sort of soul I wish to discover in 
 you. I want to see a soul in you which can embrace 
 all useful and requisite knowledge — a soul which can 
 extend its energies beyond ordinary limits; which can 
 feel for all around you, and carry its benevolent activity 
 throughout the universe ; which can contemplate the 
 
 globe, such a one as you study at B , and find new 
 
 problems upon it : as, how to carry the gospel into all 
 latitudes and all longitudes ; how to excite pity for the 
 poor heathen in every zone and climate of the world ; 
 how to equalize all nations in the sympathy of Christian 
 love, and thus make a spiritual equator; how to esti- 
 mate the coldness of religion in the burning regions of 
 the tropics, and how to carry the lively heat of evan- 
 gelical charity into the districts of the poles. I would 
 
288 MR. RICHMOND'S THIRD DAUGHTER. 
 
 have you capable of grasping all these questions in your 
 heart, with as much ease as your hands would clasp a 
 doll; or as mine would clasp your own dear self to my 
 bosom. But why do I wish tha! your soul may become 
 thus capacious? Simply to this end, that you may 
 thereby resemble him who so loved the world, that he 
 
 came into it to save sinners; yes, H , sinners like 
 
 unto you. Have you ever thought of this great truth as 
 you ought ? Is foolishness still bound up in the heart of 
 my child ? Is human existence only to be estimated by 
 playthings, and holidays, and all the etceteras of a light- 
 minded state ? What, a young damsel, almost fourteen 
 years old, and no more progress in divine things! 
 Study your Bible, and remember your privileges. Study 
 your Bible, and dig deep for a foundation whereon to 
 build your house. Study your Bible, and say what 
 must become of all the thoughtless little girls in the 
 world, if they do not repent and believe. Once more, 
 study your Bible, and learn what you first owe to God, 
 and then to your parents, and then to brothers and sis- 
 ters, then to teachers, and then to schoolfellows, and 
 then to all mankind. Such a meditation will, with 
 God's blessing, prove a merciful hour to your own soul^ 
 and for the sake of your's, to my soul also. I hope you 
 will now pursue your education with earnestness. Now 
 is the time to lay in a stock of useful knowledge. You 
 cannot set too high a value on the advantages which you 
 possess. Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you 
 do, do all to the glory of God. Childhood and its vani- 
 ties must speedily pass away, and you must have done 
 with childish things. Learn to pray, and commit your 
 whole soul and body to Christ. He is able to keep what 
 you give into his hand, unto the great day when the 
 secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed. You are now of 
 the age at which little Jane did this. Are you like her? 
 Are you as ready to meet 3"our God as she was? Ask 
 
LETTEES FEOM II EE FATHER. 289 
 
 the question of your heart, and carry it to tlie tlirone of 
 mercy, wliere all praying souls are made welcome. I 
 hoped you liked the Bible-meeting at Northampton. I 
 wish you early to cultivate a cordial interest in that 
 great work — the greatest work of the age. In the day 
 when Dame Eleanor's cross* was built, the Bible was 
 unknown to the greatest part of the country. "What a 
 contrast now? The angel flies through, heaven and 
 earth, presenting it to all. The stone cross was once 
 almost an idol; but the true cross proclaimed in the 
 Bible, is the real Christian's ensign, prop, and delight. 
 Farewell, dear love. I am 
 
 Your own dear father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 The next letter was written to the same daughter on 
 her birth-day. 
 
 ''Dear H , 
 
 " The return of a birth-day is the signal for gratitude. 
 Fourteen years ago, as I sat in my little study at Bra- 
 ding, in the Isle of Wight, about six in the morning, in 
 came a woman bearing in her arms a little baby, and 
 wished me joy of tlie same — now this little baby was a 
 
 little girl, and that little girl was my H , and now 
 
 is the fifteenth time that joy has been uttered from year 
 to year whenever that day was named. But what is 
 joy ? Is it only a holiday ? But what is joy ? Is it 
 only a game of play — is it merely a jumping, and frisk- 
 ing, and running, and chattering, and doll-dressing, and 
 merry-making, and feast-keeping? Is this all the joy 
 of a birth-day ? Away, far away be all such feeble in- 
 terpretations of the word. Then what is a birth-day joy ? 
 Is it not the joy of parents, when they see their children 
 
 * This cross is erected about a mile from Northarapton, and was once held 
 in great veneration by Romish devotees, 
 
 25 
 
290 MK. eichmond's third daughter. 
 
 growing up in the fear of tlie Lord, and in the practice 
 of holiness? Is it not the joy of the husbandman, when 
 he sees his crops ripe and plentiful, and offering the pro- 
 mise of harvest ? Is it not the joy of the gardener, when 
 he perceives his young trees thrive, and blossom, and 
 bear fruit ? Is it not the joy of the mother bird, when 
 after all her watchings, and tremblings, and flutterings 
 over the nest, she sees her little ones begin to fly, 
 and become capable of answering the end of Divine 
 Providence in their creation ? Is it not the joy of the 
 Christian instructor, when, after hours, and days, and 
 months, and years spent in warning, teaching, guiding, 
 praying for, and affectionately superintending the young 
 pupil's best interests — that pupil proves a living com» 
 mentary on the precepts received, grows in grace, and 
 love, and humility, and activity, and obedience, and as 
 a bud of promise cheers the hearts of surrounding friends 
 with prospects of usefulness through life in all its relative 
 circumstances ? If such be the ingredients of birth-day 
 joy, when duly estimated, may I be gratified in express- 
 ing my joy to-day ; and can you also participate in joy 
 
 thus appreciated? God bless you, my dear H , on 
 
 this day, and on every day. Time flies, opportunity 
 flies, the school-hour flies, childhood flies, all things are 
 hastening to a grand consummation, — what a solemn 
 thought! May my child conceive and cherish it to the 
 glory of God, and her own everlasting consolation. May 
 Christ become to her a gracious Saviour, received, loved 
 and honored by her. Such is the prayer of her affec- 
 tionate father. 
 
 L. E." 
 
 On an occasion of indisposition, Mr. E. writes again. 
 
 "Deae H- 
 
 " My anxious wish for your spiritual and temporal 
 
LETTERS FROM HER FATHER. 
 
 291 
 
 welfare induces me to express my tlioughts to you in 
 these little notes. I cannot tell you how much I desire 
 that this season of sickness may be blessed of Grod to 
 your present and everlasting good. This thought is 
 continually before me, and I pray constantly to him that 
 you may be inwardly strengthened by the power of his 
 might. Examine yourself. Prove yourself. Bring 
 your heart and all your thoughts before God, and make 
 a solemn surrender of yourself to him. Employ with 
 gratitude and patience the means which are prescribed 
 for your recovery, but trust in him alone. Physicians 
 can do nothing without his blessing on their medicines. 
 I thank God for your last note, and shall, be much 
 pleased when you can and will write me another. 
 Above all things be much in prayer : in the watches 
 of the night speak to God : in the events of the day, 
 tell him how much you need and depend on him. In 
 moments of weakness, ask him for strength ; in seasons 
 of pain, petition for contentment. He will of his riches 
 abundantly supply your need. But you must deal 
 faithfully with yourself, and humbly and perseveringly 
 with him. Be not content with merely saying, '' Christ 
 died for sinners." Try to get an evidence that you have 
 a personal interest in him. This may be known by the 
 state of your heart towards him. ''We love him 
 because he first loved us." His love produces love, and 
 our love to him proves that he has loved, and does love 
 us. Are you ignorant ? he is wisdom. Are you guilty ? 
 he is righteousness. Are you unholy ? he is sanctifica- 
 tion. Are you a captive ? he is redemption. "What is 
 he not to the sinner? his strength is perfect in the 
 believer's weakness, He was tempted in all points 
 like as we are, and therefore knows how to succour them 
 that are tempted. Oh my child 1 if you can only cleave 
 to him, and all that he is, and all he has promised to be. 
 
292 ME. eichmond's thied daughter. 
 
 nothing can harm yon. Meditate on these things, and 
 may God make them qnite and entirely your own. 
 
 " JSTow for a text for reflection. " In all our afflictions 
 he was afflicted. ISTot a pang ever distressed our bodies, 
 nor a trial our hearts, but Jesus has felt it, and he 
 not only felt it in himself, but he feels it for and in us. 
 What a consolation is here? This thought has sup- 
 ported thousands in their trouble. May it support you. 
 Behold Christ in every thing, see him everywhere, 
 acknowledge him in every trial ; for he sympathizes 
 in all the trials of them that are his. They have not one 
 pain too many. Even sufferings will all work together 
 
 for good to them'that love him. I wished my loved H 
 
 may see, feel, believe, and enjoy this encouraging 
 thought, and make it her own. Grod love and bless you. 
 So prays 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 L. K." 
 
 On another occasion he writes : — 
 
 "Dear love, 
 
 "The heart of man is deceitful above all things, 
 and desperately wicked, who can know it? So said 
 the prophet of old, and so will every one say that 
 knows the plague of his own heart. I want you to 
 employ your whole time now in studying your' heart, 
 that you may increasingly feel your need of a Saviour. 
 Who else can cleanse your heart, but he who died for 
 its salvation. Do not be contented with a little religion, 
 a little knowledge, a little hope. Press forward to the 
 enjoyment of a great and gracious religion, much 
 knowledge of Christ,- and a glorious hope full of immor- 
 tality. I am indeed most anxious that you may now in 
 right earnest seek and find the Lord. " What must I do 
 to be saved ? " is a great question. How shall my deceit- 
 
LETTEES FROM HER FATIIEE. 293 
 
 ful heart be renewed ? "Whenever I die, whither shall I 
 go? are all questions connected with it. Ask God with 
 all your heart for a right answer. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 This letter was followed by another under the same 
 circumstances. 
 
 "Dear Child, 
 
 "Your reminding me not to forget to write to you, 
 leads me to hope that you read my little notes with a 
 desire to profit by them. You do not know how Anxious 
 I am for your soul's good. What God designs for you 
 in this present illness, I know not: but this I know, 
 that you cannot be too earnest about your eternal state. 
 You cannot mourn for sin too deeply. You cannot love 
 Christ too affectionately. You cannot trust in his 
 blood and righteousness too firmly. I want you to be 
 a monument of mercy; a believing, loving, praying 
 child. If God is pleased to restore you to health, may 
 you adorn the doctrine which you have been taught, and 
 if he should see good to remove you to another world, 
 O may you sleep sweetly in Jesus. Be much in prayer : 
 " Seek and ye shall find." Ko favor is too great for God 
 to grant. You are past the age of childish ignorance, 
 and are now an accountable being. 
 
 "My H , nothing will satisfy me, short of your 
 
 being a true child of God. What effect have recent 
 events produced on your mind? What desires, what 
 fears, what hopes, what views of sin and Christ ? * * 
 * * May God make you a joy to 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. R." 
 
 In the year 1825 an offer of marriage was made to 
 
294 MR. RICHMOND'S THIRD DAUGHTER. 
 
 this daughter, of wliicli Mr. E. expressed his cordial 
 approbation in the following short note. 
 
 " My dear FrienD; 
 
 *' On consulting Mrs. E. and our dear H , they 
 
 both agreC; that the beginning of July is the earliest 
 period at which the object in view can be accomplished. 
 So leaving it in their hands, I simply put my seal of 
 approbation and consent to their decision ; and I do so 
 with a heart full of love and esteem for you both. 
 May God bless your prospects, and your souls in them. 
 I love all my children too well not to say, that in com- 
 mitting H into your hands, I give you one of my 
 
 cherished treasures, and sources of domestic endearment. I 
 feel parting with my daughter the more, from the removal 
 of my loved, my much-loved Wilberforce. His death, 
 with all its affecting associations, has had a peculiar, I trust 
 a very useful effect, upon all my feelings, sentiments, 
 ministrations, prospects, and thoughts for time and eter- 
 nity. The subject is wound up with my heart's experience, 
 in a way I can never describe. I pray Grod to overrule it for 
 the present and eternal good of myself and dear family. 
 Your's very truly and affectionately, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 Previous to the marriage of his daughter, Mr. E. put 
 into her hands a paper of directions for her future con- 
 duct, which, for simplicity, affection, and sound practical 
 wisdom, may be considered one of the best dowries that 
 a Christian parent could bestow on his child. 
 
 The paper is entitled, "Marriage Admonitions to 
 H , from her affectionate father, L. E.-' 
 
 "My much-loved Daughter. 
 'When your sister Mary left her paternal roof, I 
 
MAERIAGE ADMONITIONS. 295 
 
 gave her a paper of admonitions, which I requested her 
 sometimes to read for her own and for her father's sake. 
 I do the same for 3^on, in the form of a friendly string 
 of maxims, to regulate your conduct in your new and 
 very responsible situation. 
 
 "1st. Aim at keeping a devoted heart for God in 
 the least and most common transactions of evfery hour ; 
 as well as in those events which may seem to call the 
 loadest for manifestations of religious conscience and 
 principle. 
 
 "2d. Pray regularly and frequently, not seldom and 
 occasionally, for grace to live and die by. 
 
 " 3d. Eemember the principles and professions of your 
 father's house, and everywhere endeavour to preserve 
 its character, by consistency in conduct, conversation, 
 and temper. 
 
 "4th. Form no hasty intimacies ; and none whatever 
 but such as may promote seriousness of heart, tongue^ 
 and demeanour. 
 
 " 5th. Beware of cheerfulness degenerating into levity, 
 and ignorance of the world into prejudice 
 
 " 6th. Guard against hasty judgments of character, and 
 above all against hastily uttering sentiments, and making 
 remarks to the disparagement of others. 
 
 " 7th. Wherever you are, in the first place, remember 
 that God's eye is upon you ; and then imagine also that 
 your husband and father are present. It may be a fanci- 
 ful, but it is a profitable supposition. 
 
 "8th. Keep in constant recollection the wise, pru- 
 dent, and conscientious example of your dear mother. 
 Be cautious when in religious company, and endeavour 
 to sustain a deportment which may induce the excellent 
 of the earth to desire your society for their own sake as 
 well as yours. 
 
 " 9th. Particularly- avoid making the errors, failings, 
 faults, or follies of good people, either in private or 
 
296 MR. RIOH.MON-D S THIRD DAUGHTER. 
 
 public matters, the subject of rash and unguarded 
 remarks. Be known for charity, forbearance, and 
 kindness 
 
 '^lOth. Keep Christ's golden rule, (Luke vi. 31.) in 
 perpetual remembrance: it is the panacea for most of 
 the evils of life, so far as they are connected with social 
 intercourse. 
 
 ^'llth. Entertain no prejudices against nations, 
 churches, sects, or parties ; they are the bane of truth, 
 charity, and comfort, and are directly opposed to the 
 letter and spirit of Christianity. You may and ought 
 to have a conscientious, well-founded preference, but 
 not one half-formed or ill-formed prejudice against any 
 one. 
 
 " 12th. Be conscientious towards all ; friendly with 
 few ; intimate with fewer still ; strictly confidential 
 with fewest of all. 
 
 "13th. From the hour you marry, you assume the 
 character of a matron ; be not a childish, girlish, wife ; 
 the vows of God are upon you, sustain their gravity 
 and prudence in all things. 
 
 "14th. If circumstances and friendly connections 
 lead you into the superintendence of charitable institu- 
 tions, enter upon your of&ce with prayer and considera- 
 tion, and persevere in the discharge of its duties with 
 patience and well-guided zeal. 
 
 "15th. Let no natural vivacity of temper, no occa- 
 sionally-indulged sallies of humour and jocularity 
 throw a shade over the exercise of solid principle. Little 
 foolish things give a colour to character, and are more 
 easily caught at than grave and good sentiments. 
 
 "16th. All eyes are sure to be fixed on a young wife: 
 beware of, while you conforr^ to, that sort of bridal 
 publicity, which is necessarily connected with evey 
 circle of residents and acquaintance. 
 
 "17th. Choose female intiraates with circumspection: 
 
MARRIAGE A D MO:sri.TI ON S. 297 
 
 many civil, hospitable, agreeable persons, are far from 
 being improving companions ; we may owe and pay 
 them tlie debt of civility, kindness, and gratitude, and 
 yet not be obliged to give tbem too much of our time 
 and affection. Two or three truly Christian women 
 form a circle suflS.ciently large for profitable friendship. 
 
 " 18th. In every circle of acquaintance, however 
 small, you will find more or less of party spirit preju- 
 dice, and too great freedom of remark on persons and 
 circumstances connected with them; beware of joining 
 in these. Be slow to judge, rather than swift to speak ; 
 the best Christians often fail here. 
 
 "19th. You are much given to laughter, my dear 
 child : and many a hearty laugh I have enjoyed with 
 you ; and I would not turn your laughter into sorrow ; 
 but this propensity may prove a snare to you. Watch 
 and be jealous of it ; banish what looks like giggling, 
 lightness, and folly ; and cultivate a chastened cheerful- 
 ness and simplicity of manner in all companies. 
 
 "20th. Never forget that you are entering an entire 
 circle of strangers, and that a very few weeks or months 
 will establish your character amongst them. 
 
 " Once more, I say, think of your father's house and 
 reputation. When I look upon myself and all that 
 belongs to me, I feel ashamed of my own feeble, faint 
 attempts to serve God, and adorn his gospel; yet the 
 Christian world has attached to them, however unde- 
 servedly, a value ; and by the name and character of 
 their father, will my children be tried and appreciated. 
 
 "21st. Keep indelibly engraven on your heart the 
 affecting scenes of last January. A dying brother's 
 faithful admonitions — his last words, his last looks of 
 mortal affection. Our household never witnessed the 
 like ; was never so tried. The memorials dwell on my 
 heart with increasing poignancy. I say less, but I feel 
 more ; there is a solemn, silent, softening, and subduing 
 
influence; which often overwhehns me. May you retain 
 a vivid recollection, with a perpetual blessing, of that 
 day when our Wilberforce fled from earth to heaven. 
 
 "22nd. Be especially attentive to the opinion which 
 your demeanour may inspire amongst your husband's 
 relations. No doubt he has praised you before them: 
 endeavour to prove in all points that he has done you 
 no more than justice; much family peace and love 
 depends upon this. 
 
 "23rd. There are many excellent hints in the book 
 entitled, "A Whisper to a New Married Pair." I 
 recommend them to your perusal ; and there are many 
 more excellent hints to wives and women in the Bible, 
 from Solomon, Paul, and Peter ; study them Avell. 
 
 " 24th. When you think of your father, bear with his 
 infirmities and pardon his faults, but remember his prin- 
 ciples and instructions, so far as they have been agreeable 
 to the will of God. 
 
 " 25th. Be not contented with any thing short of deep, 
 devoted, diligent, decided seriousness. Make not the too 
 numerous half-hearted and decent, but dubious Christians, 
 your patterns for imitation. Set your mark and standard 
 very high, and aim deliberately to regulate your conduct 
 by it. 
 
 "26th. If you and your husband happen to differ in 
 opinion or feeling on any point, remember whom you 
 have promised to love, honour, and obey, and this will 
 settle all things. 
 
 "27th. Of your husband's warm affections towards 
 you, I entertain no doubt; strive to preserve them by 
 daily elevation of character : not so much by fondness 
 as by prudence and dignity. Study his character, he 
 will study yours. May you both learn to raise a fabric 
 of connubial happiness by mutal wisdom and love. 
 
 " 28th. I trust you are taught in the school of Christ ; 
 rely not, however, on the pasl; privileges of education. 
 
MARKIAGE ADMONITIONS. 299 
 
 but seek present evidences, sucli as will comfort you 
 under sadden alarms and distresses, should they occur. 
 Try to get acquainted with yourself by a review of your 
 whole life, and often carry to the Lord, in prayer and 
 confidence, the results of an examination into your heart 
 and conduct. 
 
 '^29th. Observe great simplicity and plainness in 
 dress. A clergyman's wife should be a pattern to others 
 in these respects; there is a just complaint made of 
 many females who profess to be religious, that they are 
 far too showy and gay in their outward apparel; remem- 
 ber the apostle's injunction, 1 Peter iii. 1 — 6. 
 
 " 30th. I^ever think yourself too old to learn; the most 
 valuable period of education is perhaps from twenty to 
 forty years of age. The matured mind is fittest to hecome 
 the little child. 
 
 "31st. You are bidding farewell to your father's 
 house, the home of your infancy, childhood, and youth ; 
 yet the remembrance of the principles in which you 
 have been educated should follow you through life, 
 wherever Divine Providence may see fit to call you. 
 May they be a guide to you at all times, and a consolation 
 to you in your final removal from a sinful and changing 
 world. 
 
 " Christ has been made known to you fully and 
 freely ; let Christ be your all in all, both now and for 
 ever. Eeceive my parting advice in love, and be as- 
 sured, my beloved child, it comes from the afiectionate 
 heart of 
 
 Your dear father, 
 
 L. E." 
 
 A short time before her marriage. Miss H. E. paid (v 
 
 visit to . 1 was gratified in discovering in a young 
 
 woman, not yet twenty years of age, so much thought 
 and good sense on the subjects of our conversation. In 
 
300 ME. RICHMOND'S THIED DAUGHTEE. 
 
 common "with the rest of her family, she entertained a 
 deep sense of her father's affection, consistency, and uni- 
 form anxiety for the spiritual welfare of his children. 
 
 "When I adverted to her responsibility on the ground 
 of past privileges, and to the necessity of a personal ap- 
 plication of the principles in which she had been edu- 
 cated, she observed, ^'I know that religion requires 
 something more of me than respect for my father," and 
 she then proceeded to state to me some of the perplex- 
 ities of her mind on certain doctrines, which led me to 
 remark that young people were apt to begin where they 
 should end, and as an old author has quaintly said, wish 
 " to matriculate at the university of election, before they 
 have passed through the grammar-school of repentance 
 and faith." I advised her to lay aside the consideration 
 of the deep things of Grod. These, said I, are far beyond 
 the range of a young disciple. The time may arrive 
 when such subjects may be studied with advantage, for 
 it is a great mistake to suppose that God has revealed 
 anything which is unserviceable to his church, or need- 
 less to be understood : but infancy, youth, and manhood 
 are not to be fed with the same aliment. I have no wish 
 to conceal from you that my mind is made up on these 
 subjects, though I am far from being confident in the 
 certainty of my own conclusions on points which are 
 debateable and still debated amongst good and wise men ; 
 but r feel no hesitation in dissuading you from employ- 
 ing your thoughts on speculations, which at present will 
 retard rather than aid your progress. To ascertain your 
 conversion, and the reality of your piety, by the plain 
 practical tests of the Bible, ought to be your chief and 
 indeed only concern. Admit that God calls, and keeps, 
 and alone can bring you to heaven, and you know all 
 that is essential to your salvation." 
 
 " Yes : but if God does not call" — 
 
CONVEESATIONS WITH THE AUTHOR. 301 
 
 ^' Then call on him ; ' Turn thou me, good Lord, 
 and so shall I be turned.' " 
 
 We made a transition to her approaching 'marriage. 
 I alluded to her pleasing prospect of being united to 
 a man of principle and piety, and to the satisfaction 
 her father had expressed in the anticipation of that 
 event. 
 
 She requested me to converse with her on the duties 
 of her new relation. 
 
 " You entertain, my dear young friend, no doubt, the 
 usual expectations of happiness in married life, and I do 
 not wish to damp them ; but I am compelled to acknow- 
 ledge that I have not witnessed much conjugal felicity. 
 People jog on in life, because they cannot do otherwise ; 
 if they are not indifferent to each other, nor annoy each 
 other by contention and ill-humour, they still appear to 
 me to derive but little satisfaction from their connexion ; 
 little in comparison with what the relation is intended 
 and calculated to inspire." 
 
 " What are the usual causes of the disappointment in 
 such cases ? " 
 
 ^' Shall we say that there is want of af&nity of charac- 
 ter in the parties — that the connexion has been formed 
 on some selfish calculation — that a mutual though not 
 designed deception has been practised — that greater 
 demands are made than a fallen nature can answer — 
 that people are more tenacious of their claims than of 
 their duties, and forget that affection needs cultivation 
 as much or more, after than hefore marriage ? 
 
 ^'AU these causes are fatal to happiness; yet where 
 they may not exist, much uneasiness often arises in 
 married life, from a disregard to the ordinance of God 
 in that relation. Reference should be made to his rule 
 and appointment. It is true he has made the man a 
 sort of autocrat, (6 deanorrig)] the head of a house, to 
 superintend and direct every important movement in it ; 
 
 26 
 
/ MK. EICHMONd's TIIIKD DAUGHTER. 
 
 it thougli entrusted with the chief power, he is 
 Responsible to G od for the use he makes of it. Authority 
 IS granted to no one for the purpose of mere self-gratifi- 
 cation. The trust is abused when it is perverted to this 
 end. Man is constituted the head, for the good of the 
 members; and he must rule with tenderness, forbear- 
 ance, and affection. Matthew Henry has prettily ex- 
 pressed the idea, — '[ God made woman out of man's side. 
 Not out of his head, to rule ; nor out of his feet, to be 
 trampled on; but out of his rib, which lies near his 
 heart, to be loved and cherished." And when man for- 
 gets that his reign is the dominion of affection, he pro- 
 vokes God, by an abuse, and misuse of power, to resign 
 his house 'to disorder and rebellion. 
 
 " The wife has also her place. She is equal in nature, 
 but not in relation. She must shine by reflection ; and 
 will suffer an eclipse in her dignity, and bankruptcy in 
 her happiness, whenever she sets up for herself, and 
 affects equality and independence. Her earthly hopes 
 and satisfactions should emanate from her husbandj and 
 centre in him. The rule of duty for a Christian wife 
 is, "in and for the Lord." Her obedience must not 
 vary with the capricious influences of feeling, but rest 
 on the firmer basis of conformity to the ordinance of 
 God. Affection may make duty delightful, but it is 
 not the foundation of it. When a wife has just reason 
 to disapprove of her husband's conduct, she may reason 
 and remonstrate; occasions may unhappily arise in 
 which conscience requires dissent, and even disobedience ; 
 but in general it is a woman's privilege, as well as duty, 
 to call her husband '' lord," and to keep within the limits 
 which God has wisely and graciously appointed." 
 
 My young friend thanked me for my instructions, 
 which she assured me were in unison with her own 
 views, and that she meant to enter on her new relation 
 with these principles. 
 
IIEPw SICKNESS AND DEATH. 303 
 
 The interval between her marriage and early death 
 might have been more fully described by one who is best 
 able to appreciate her conduct. But motives of delicacy 
 and regard to his feelings have restrained me from 
 making an application to him, and led me to prefer the 
 insertion of an extract from her mother's letter. Mrs. E. 
 writes : — 
 
 " Her time was chiefly spent in the retired duties of 
 domestic life. She seldom engaged in anything of a 
 public nature. She became a most exemplary and con- 
 scientious wife — a fond and tender mother to her little 
 boy, whom she regarded with anxiety, and was prepar- 
 ing to train in the principles and piety of her dear 
 father. Increasingly beloved by her husband, whose 
 comfort and happiness on his return from his daily 
 and laborious occupations, she assiduously studied to 
 promote — her short day of life sweetly glided on, and, 
 like the flower of the desert, she attracted little notice 
 beyond the immediate circle of the few friends to whom 
 she attached herself." 
 
 In September, 1828, Mrs. A gave birth to her 
 
 second child. An account of the event and its afflictive 
 results, was communicated at the time in the letter which 
 follows : — 
 
 ^' I saw our poor H on the afternoon after the birth 
 
 of her child. She then appeared extremely well, and 
 nursing a sweet infant with a mother's joy. On Wed- 
 nesday she complained of pain, and passed a very 
 
 restless night. The next day Mr. A called in a 
 
 physician, who seemed uneasy at her symptoms, and 
 enjoined the utmost quiet, particularly requesting that 
 no one should speak of her danger, or say anything to 
 
804 MR. RICHMOND'S THIRD DAUGHTER. 
 
 excite or agitate lier mind. On Friday she grew worse 
 and inquired if there were danger, expressing her own 
 conviction that she would not recover. Her friends, in 
 compliance with the strict injunctions of the medical 
 man, discouraged her inquiries, and endeavoured to 
 draw her mind to other subjects. But in reply, she 
 said, '' Is this kind, to keep my thoughts from eternity ? 
 I cannot realize death, and you will not help me. Can 
 I think too much of death? " She then inquired for me, 
 and desired that I might be sent for. Aware of the great 
 change in her countenance, as I entered the room, she 
 kept her eyes shut, remarking to the nurse, " I will keep 
 my eyes shut, I shall be so agitated at seeing my dear 
 sister's distress, she will see me so changed." She was 
 indeed changed; her countenance which only a week 
 before had the bright hue of health, was now pale and 
 wan. Oh ! my dear Mrs. F , how awfal is the exe- 
 cution of the sentence, ' The soul that sinneth it shall 
 die.' Even where Christ has taken away the sting, the 
 expiring agony of death is terrible. Is it not a strange 
 infatuation that our latter moments should ever be 
 absent from our thoughts — that we can trifle where 
 we ought to tremble, and be comparatively indifferent 
 to the only event which is of real im'portance to us ? " 
 
 ^'I was earnestly requested, before I went into the 
 sick room, to show no alarm at her danger, and to avoid 
 conversing \ipon death. But I gazed at her marble 
 countenance for a few moments, and all hope of her life 
 fled. The particular appearance of death cannot be 
 mistaken, and I resolved to speak plainly to her of her 
 
 situation. But H began of her own accord. She 
 
 put her hand into mine as I sat down beside her. 
 
 " F , love, we meet as dying sisters this time." 
 
 "Dear H- ," I replied, '' I'ell me how you feel." 
 
 " F , I feel that in a few hours I must stand before 
 
 the judgment-seat of Christ and there render an account 
 
nER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 305 
 
 of all the deeds done in the body, and my sins press 
 
 heavy upon me. F , talk to me about death. I 
 
 shall not recover. I have felt assured of this from the 
 first, but no one will talk to me ; even my dear husband 
 shrinks from it ; but I must speak of death now. I 
 hope you will converse with me." I assured her of my 
 intention and willingness to do so, and I began to 
 inquire into the state of her mind. She lamented her 
 sad neglect of religion in days past, that she had greatly 
 failed to improve opportunities, and had grievously put 
 
 off preparation for a dying hour. " Now, dear F , 
 
 I feel the value of time — now I see why I was sent into 
 this world ; my whole life ought to have been a pre- 
 paration for this hour. Oh ! dear, dear F , how 
 
 time has been trifled away." 
 
 '^ She seemed exceedingly distressed at these recollec- 
 tions, and particularly referred to the instructions and 
 example of her dear father — and expressed in the 
 strongest terms her gratitude to him for teaching her to 
 
 honour religion from her infancy. ''Kow, F , I 
 
 feel his worth. Oh, what a father we had — how his 
 prayers and entreaties, and holy example rise before 
 me. I never, never can express my love for my father. 
 On a death-bed I have learnt his value" — then adding, 
 " But on a death- bed I have learnt my responsibilities 
 for such a parent. I shall soon have to answer for 
 many things, but I have most to answer for in having 
 had such a parent. I have enjoyed unparalleled mer- 
 cies through childhood and youths Oh ! I have much 
 — very much to answer for. If I am saved, it will 
 
 indeed he a miracle of miracles ; but F -, I have a 
 
 hope, and I cannot give up hope — Christ is my hope ; 
 his blood can cleanse me from my sins, and for his sake 
 even / may find pardon." 
 
 " She then named several of her friends and relations 
 whom she thought would be shocked at the intelligence 
 , 26* 
 
306 MR. Richmond's third daughter. 
 
 of her early and unexpected death. She sent kind 
 messages to them. The poor people of Turvey, and 
 recollections of the home of her youth, seemed much in 
 
 her thoughts, and deeply affected her. '^F , give 
 
 my affectionate love to them all. Turvey is very dear 
 to me. " 
 
 " The state of one of her intimate friends distressed 
 her. ''How I regret (alluding to this lady) that our 
 conversation and intercourse has been so little profitable 
 
 to either of us. I wish I could see before I die. 
 
 I have much I want to say to her. I want to press 
 religion on her mind. Oh that I could see her a real 
 Christian before I die." She spoke much of her dear 
 aunt, who had kindly nursed her all the week with the 
 patient tenderness and affection of a mother. "I hope 
 my beloved aunt knows Christ and his doctrines. I 
 think I shall meet her in heaven." She entreated me to 
 explain the nature of religion to the nurse, " I am too 
 weak to talk to her now, but I hope you will, dear 
 
 F : I am afraid she has not a right knowledge of 
 
 religion. She has been telling me, there can be no 
 doubt of my going to heaven, because I am so good and 
 amiable. Oh! this is false; this is error; this is no 
 foundation to build on for eternity. Explain to her the 
 nature of sin, and salvation by Christ. I cannot bear 
 the thought of leaving that kind and faithful creature 
 
 in ignorance. I have been talking to ■ ^," alluding 
 
 to one of the servants, '' and have tried to show her the 
 importance of preparing for early death. I wish I had 
 
 strength to speak to nurse also." H then returned 
 
 to the subject of her own departure : " Oh ! I am 
 frightened when I think of dying. I have not accus- 
 tomed myself to think of dying as I ought to have 
 done." I suggested to her mind what appeared to me 
 best suited to her case ; that Christ was our lamp in 
 that dreary valley, our strong consolation in the bitter 
 
HEE SICKNESS AND DEATH. 807 
 
 pains of death. She replied, ^'1 can trust Christ with 
 my soul. I can hope he will pardon and save it ; but I 
 feel alarmed about the bodily pains of death : they are 
 fearful in prospect ; but I will not dwell on the future, 
 it disturbs me. I will trust God." I said, "When 
 thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death," — interrupt- 
 ing me she exclaimed with great emotion, '' Thou didst 
 open the kingdom of heaven to all believers." 
 
 ''She now referred to Wilberforce, and said, ''Poor 
 Willy Avent through this awful time before me, but all 
 was safe and happy with him. I trust it will be so 
 with me. My dear, dear father, he has also gone 
 through death. None of us know what sorrow he 
 endured in that awful hour. He was indeed a loss to 
 us all, but I am now glad h% is gone before me." 
 
 " The prospect of leaving her infants agitated her 
 mind throughout the day. "To be left without a 
 mother ! Oh this is hard ! Oh ! Grod take care of my 
 poor babes." Her chief conversation about the children 
 was with her husband, and I believe she gave him many 
 directions about their education. 
 
 "On Saturday my mother arrived; H was too 
 
 ill to converse with her, but she assured her that her 
 own mind was in peace. 
 
 " My sister appeared to be dying the whole of Satur- 
 day night, but very gradually. She begged we would 
 all leave the room, as the evening came on, and that she 
 might be left alone with her husband, who sat the whole 
 of the night beside her, to converse as her strength 
 would permit. 
 
 " At six o'clock on Sunday morning, she desired that 
 
 we might be called into the room. We found Mr. 
 
 supporting her in his arms; death was on her coun- 
 tenance, she breathed with difiiculty and was quite cold. 
 
 She said, " I wish to see Mr. " (the medical man 
 
 who attended her in her confinement.) When he came, 
 
808 ME. rickmo^d's third daughter. 
 
 slie inquired of him, how long she might live ; he said, 
 '' Perhaps three hours." She requested her husband to 
 
 send for Mr. W . On his arrival she exerted her 
 
 last strength to converse with him, but their conversa- 
 tion was carried on in so low a tone that I could not 
 
 catch the whole. I heard my sister question Mr. W — 
 
 most earnestly about a true and a false faith, and 
 whether he thought her faith sincere and genuine. He 
 spoke very decidedly of the safety of her state, and she 
 appeared to receive comfort from his opinion. At her 
 request he administered the Lord's Supper. We knelt 
 round her bed in silence and deep anguish. She clasped 
 her hands, and seemed to be in earnest prayer the whole 
 
 time. At the conclusion she thanked Mr. , and 
 
 said, '' You have refreshed i^e in body and mind. This 
 is the hour of extremity, but Christ is all." She then 
 became much oppressed, and struggled hard for breath, 
 and in a little time asked for her children. AVhen the 
 eldest was brought, she clasped him for a moment to 
 her breast, and said, "This boy has been my idol." 
 She next begged that the infant might be brought to 
 her. "I want to see if I can bring my will to God's 
 will." The babe was placed in her arms, she looked at 
 it, was much agitated, and exclaimed, "Oh! take it 
 away, take it away, I cannot bear this ! O God ! take 
 care of my darling babe ! " She followed it with her 
 eyes as the nurse carried it away, and seemed to be in 
 prayer for it. She then took leave of each of us 
 separately. To her mother she said, " I shall soon be 
 with my dear papa." The interview with her husband 
 was very affecting. She was most ardently attached to 
 
 Mr. ; she desired him to kneel down and commit 
 
 her soul to God in the agony of departure. Presently 
 ehe whispered, "I cannot hear now." Then — "My 
 eight is failing — Oh! this is death!" She begged we 
 would keep perfect silence, and lay her straight down 
 
HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 809 
 
 on the bed. "We stood motionless and gazing on her. 
 She made several attempts to speak, but in vain, but I 
 heard her breathe out very faintly, '^ Now it begins to 
 look lovely ! " A moment after, fixing her eyes upward, 
 and smiling with a placid countenance, she drew a last 
 deep breath, and all was hushed in silence. 
 
 'Are we not allowed, my dear Mrs. F , to believe 
 
 that my sister has joined angels and archangels, and all 
 the company of heaven ? Her short and painful illness 
 afforded less scope for the exercises and evidences of- a 
 renewed heart than we witnessed in the last hours of our 
 beloved Wilberforce. Yet here we have not been left to 
 sorrow as without hope. '' Beloved for the father's sake," 
 seemed inscribed in characters of mercy on her death- 
 bed. The effect of her education and early acquaintance 
 with the principles of religion could not be mistaken. 
 Her father's prayers and unwearied and affectionate 
 solicitude for his child's spiritual welfare — the ''line 
 upon line and precept upon precept," which he pressed 
 on her mind; together with poor Willy's earnest ad- 
 dresses and entreaties in his dying hour, seemed to recur 
 to her with new force, and poured a flood of light, con- 
 viction and consolation ^n her soul, leading her in peni- 
 tence and faith to rest all her hopes on that one oblation, 
 propitiation, and satisfaction, which was once made for 
 sin by the Lamb of God, in whose precious blood all 
 transgression, known and unknown, is washed away for 
 ever. 
 
 Believe me, my dear Mrs. F , 
 
 I am your most affectionate, &c." 
 
 I would not be thought to cast a shade on the hopes 
 so affectionately expressed in the above letter, the sub- 
 ject of which is, I trust, a happy spirit in heaven. 
 Yet I feel it necessary, as a Christian minister, to sub- 
 join a few salutary cautions, especially to young people 
 
810 ME. KICHMOND'S third DAU gilt Ell. 
 
 against too exclusive a reliance on what may take 
 place in our latter moments. The scripture makes an 
 appeal to living hours and holy fruits, and these are 
 the tests on which we can most safely depend. The 
 gold passes through the fire, and the result of the 
 purifying process alone determines its character. It is 
 the language of inspiration, "As a man sows so shall he 
 reap." 
 
 Let me remind those young persons whose opinions 
 are correct, but who are conscious that their hearts 
 are yet far from God, not to run the hazard, the tre- 
 mendous hazard, of losing their souls, by delay; nor 
 expect peace and safety at last, unless they are now 
 seeking to lay up the support of a faith which worketh 
 by love and obedience. "It is the tenor of the life, 
 not that of the few morbid and suffering scenes which, 
 precede dissolution, that fixes the character. We are 
 not authorized by Scripture to place any dependence on 
 the last periods of sinking nature, through which the 
 Christian may be called to pass to his eternal reward." * 
 
 •Life of the Rev. T. Scott, p. 515. 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 311 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " If I have done well, and as is fitting the story, it is that which I de* 
 fiired ; but if slenderly and meanly, it is that which I could attain unto." 
 —Maccabees. 
 
 In reviewing what has now been submitted to the 
 public, there seems little need of further comment, since 
 it is probable that the intelligent reader has anticipated 
 every suggestion which I might be disposed to offer. 
 
 Of Mr. Eichmond's plans for his children, 1 must 
 leave the Christian parent to form his own opinion ; 
 observing that whether he adopts them in whole or in 
 part, he should never forget that instruction, however 
 large or correct, is not education ; that true piety con- 
 sists not in form, in its most- scrupulous use ; nor in a 
 speculation claiming the bare assent and approval of 
 the mind ; nor in any influence occasionally to be felt. 
 It is a principle pervading every family of a man's 
 moral nature. Religion is estimated far below its real 
 character, when it is regarded as an affair of dutiful 
 necessity : or as a medicine taken for ulterior relief : 
 rather than as a well-spring of life and health, to which 
 the soul turns for satisfaction and delight, and without 
 which it can neither be peaceful nor happy. The truths 
 of the Bible may be taught in their utmost purity, and 
 yet, unless their spirit be transfused into the affections 
 of the heart, and the habits of the life, they will fall 
 short of the effect and design of real Christianity. 
 Mere knowledge of religion, without a corresponding 
 feeling and practice, often issues in a fatal apathy, 
 
312 CONCLUDING EEMAKKS. 
 
 and forms a character wliicli becomes at last imper- 
 vious to every sacred impression. It lias been well said 
 by a profound moralist, that ''to handle holy things 
 without feeling, is to be cauterized in the end." • It has 
 been clearly shawn on what principle Mr. Eichmond 
 conducted his plan of education; — that his grand aim 
 was to touch the heart, and to make duty and delight 
 synonymous. Yet some caution is necessary in the ex- 
 clusive application of strictly religious principles. There 
 a variety of motives which act most salutarily to present 
 advantage, and which impose powerful restraints on the 
 impulses of a corrupt nature ; and if we strip a youth of 
 all regard for his interest or reputation, we expose him, 
 in the absence of higher motives, to be driven along by 
 the current of his own passions, till he makes shipwreck 
 of all that is valuable for this world and the next. To 
 this neglect of inferior motives I am disposed to ascribe 
 the misconduct of many children of religious parents ; 
 and it therefore becomes an inquiry of no small import- 
 ance (though of difficult and delicate character,) whether 
 the entire disuse of subordinate influences is wise, or 
 even safe in a course of education. May we not be 
 guided in this inquiry by the sanction of the supreme 
 Ruler himself; ''^ who, while he taught the more excel- 
 lent way, yet formed laws for human conduct, and held 
 out motives for obedience, not always the best in them- 
 selves, but the best in reference to the circumstances and 
 capacities of his creatures. Nor am I inclined to reject 
 any influence for the present advantage, in which there 
 is nothing opposed to the spirit or the dictates of religion. 
 Another circumstance which is often undervalued in 
 education, is the establishment of good habits ; and that, 
 too, prior to the full admission of good principles. Habits, 
 it is true, are formed by a series of actions, and actions 
 must spring from principles of some kind ; but the prin- 
 
 * Ezekiel xx. 25. 
 
CONCLUDING KEMiLRKS. 813 
 
 ciple at first may be little more than custom or associa- 
 tion : yet are tlie habits valuable, as preparing a future 
 powerful co-operation with right principle ; for nothing 
 proves a greater obstacle to truth in opinion, than error 
 in conduct. There is a deep and intimate knowledge of 
 the influence of habit in that declaration of our blessed 
 Lord, "If any man will do the will of my heavenly 
 Father, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of 
 God." John vii. 17. 
 
 Corrupt practice is a fruit of darkness, and increaseth 
 darkness ; and though correct habits are not the cause 
 of divine light, they prepare the soil for the heavenly 
 seed, and clear away the weeds and thorns which 
 would check its vegetation, and retard its growth. 
 The language which reflects on human agency as use- 
 less, and even presumptuous, until a divine power has 
 commenced its mighty operation, is not in accordance 
 with reason or Scripture ; and a propensity to form 
 systems, and distort the doctrines of religion, is often 
 connected with indolence and selfishness, which shrink 
 from the labour of instruction. 
 
 Mr. Eichmond's great care to regulate the private 
 intercourse of his children, is another feature in his 
 system of education which deserves particular atten- 
 tion. It is evident, from one remark in his own 
 memoranda, that he intended to have urged this topic 
 in the projected memoir of his son : '' The great value 
 of scientific and rational amusement in supplying 
 materials for good and useful conversation." 
 
 The unprofitable manner in which the hours of social 
 intercourse are too often spent, has been lamented by 
 many. It may not be desirable, nor is it always pro- 
 fitable, to introduce strictly religious subjects on every 
 occasion. Sacred things should be handled with rever- 
 ence and feeling, or we shall be in danger of making 
 an unholy use of that which is holy. But it is very 
 
 27 
 
314 CONCLUDING KEMARKS 
 
 possible to converse on ordinary things in the spirit of 
 religion ; we may aim to improve ourselves or others, 
 and not merely pass away the time in tales of wonder. 
 We cannot be walking with God, in a heavenly tender 
 frame of mind, or with any just sense of our position, 
 as standing on the brink of eternity, while we propose 
 to ourselves no higher object than amusement — no 
 accession of ideas, nor elevation of devout affections. 
 Can our communications "administer grace to the 
 hearer," when the amount, if written down would 
 shame a wise man, and distress the mind of a sincere 
 Christian ? 
 
 There is also, with young and old, a prevalent and 
 bad habit, of talking of persons, rather than of things. 
 This is seldom innocent, and often pregnant with many 
 evils. Such conversation insensibly slides' into detrac- 
 tion ; and by dwelling on offences, we expose our own 
 souls to contagion, and are betrayed into feelings of 
 pride, envy, and jealousy ; and even when we speak 
 of others in terms of commendation, " we are sure to 
 come in with a hut at the last, and drive a nail into 
 our neighbour's reputation." 
 
 The disuse of good conversation proceeds from poverty 
 of ideas, no less than from want of heart-religon. Per- 
 sons select light and trivial subjects, because they have 
 no materials for a higher intercharge of sentiment. If 
 more pains were taken to cultivate the mind, there 
 would be less difficulty in speaking to edification ; and 
 less need of having recourse to amusements, which 
 differ little in their effect and influence from others, 
 which, by common consent, have been denounced as 
 inconsistent with vital religion. 
 
 If the "Domestic Portraiture" should fall into the 
 hands of any one who has been accustomed to associate 
 the idea of folly and delusion with a serious profession 
 of religion, — he may observe in what is here detailed, 
 
CONCLUDING KEMARKS. 315 
 
 that a sincere Christian may be a man of taste and 
 intelligence ; and that it is not necessary to be illiterate 
 or enthusiastic to believe the Bible, and regulate a family 
 in accordance with its principles; but that elegant 
 accomplishments and a becoming attention to the usages 
 of society, as far as they are innocent or useful, may be 
 found in alliance with the warmest devotion and most 
 conscientious regard to the laws of God. 
 
 In bidding farewell to this little work, which I have 
 now brought to a conclusion, one thought enters my 
 mind and produces deep emotion. I have increased 
 the responsibilities of Mr. Bichmond's family, by hold- 
 ing them up to public observation. "Wherever the 
 present volume may obtain circulation, their father's 
 honour, and — a still more important consideration — their 
 father's principles, will be ultimately connected with their 
 conduct, and the value of them be appreciated by their 
 effects. His eye is no longer upon them, nor his bright 
 example before them ; neither has every member of hia 
 family enjoyed the full benefit of his affectionate and 
 careful superintendence. But I am persuaded that the 
 traces he has left, are too deeply engraven ever to be 
 erased from their remembrance ; and that a father's 
 blessing will follow them to the latest hour of their 
 earthly pilgrimrge. It is my heart's desire and prayer 
 to God, that they may retain a lively recollection of 
 his instructions, and continue to walk worthy of their 
 vocation, irreprovable and without rebuke, until they 
 rejoin their departed relatives, and with them ''praise 
 God for such a father." 
 
 THE END. 
 
RICHMOND'S TRACTS; 
 
 DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER, 
 YOUNG COTTAGER OR LITTLE JANE 
 NEGRO SERVANT, &c. 
 
 Y TH 
 
 Rev. LEGH RICHMOND, A.M. 
 
 LilB RECTOR or TURVEV, BEDFORDSHIRE 
 
 IDITED 
 
 BY THE EEV. JOHN AYEE, A.M. 
 
 OTTTlf§lT7l 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL SOCIETY FOR THE PROMOTION OP 
 
 EVANGELICAL KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 NO. 11 BIBLE HOUSE, AS TOR PLACE. 
 
 1859. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Introduction, vii 
 
 The Dairyman's Daughter, - - - - 19 
 The Negro Servant, - - - - ' - 115 
 
 The Young Cottager, 147 
 
 The Cottage Conversation - - - 209 
 
 A Yisit to the Infirmary, - - - - - 215 
 
 B. Douglaa Wyeth, Agt., Stereotyper, 
 No. 7 Pear St., Philadelphia. 
 
WILLIAM WILBEEFOECE, ESQ., 
 THIS LITTLE WORK, 
 
 DESIGNED TO BEAB A TESTIMOXT, DRAWN FBOM REAL FACTS AND 
 OCCURRENCES, 
 
 TO THE 
 
 INFINITE VALUE OF CHRISTIAN TRUTH, 
 When received ia the Heart and exemplified in the Conduct, 
 IS DEDICATED, 
 
 AS A TOKEN OF GRATEFUL AND AFFECTIONATE REGARD, WHICH THB 
 
 AUTHOR ENTERTAINS TOWARDS A CHARACTER 
 
 SO LONG AND JUSLY APPROVED, 
 
 AS 
 
 THE FAITHFUL MONITOR OF THE RICH, THE TRIED 
 
 FRIEND OF THE POOR, THE UNWEARIED 
 
 SUPPORTER OF RELIGION, AND THE 
 
 ACKNOWLEDGED BENEFACTOR 
 
 OF MANKIND. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It has been thouglit that an enlarged edition of the 
 '' Anjs'ALS of the Poor," might not be unacceptable to 
 the public ; and that a brief sketch of the Author's life 
 might with advantage be appended. It has fallen to my 
 lot to superintend such a publication. 
 
 The " Dairyman's "Daughter" is enlarged with a num 
 ber of letters, &c., written by herself to her relatives 
 The originals of these have been preserved in the Au 
 thor's possession. There are also added two letters ad 
 dressed to her by the Author. I have judged it expedi 
 ent not to interrupt the course of the narrative, and 
 have therefore thrown together the additional matter in 
 the form of an appendix. 
 
 The "Young Cottager," and the "Kegro Servant," are 
 reprinted without alteration, from the last edition. 
 
 Two little pieces from Mr. Kichmond's pen, inserted 
 in the first volume of the Christian Guardian, now for 
 the first time accompany his larger tracts. They are 
 entitled "The Cottage Conversation," and "A visit to 
 the Infirmary." 
 
 I HAVE a melancholy satisfaction in sketching the life 
 of my lamented father-in-law, and I willingly embrace 
 the opportunity of affectionately paying a public tribute 
 to the memory of one so valued and beloved. I pur- 
 posely refrain from intruding into the province of the 
 biographer: a complete memoir of Mr. E. having been 
 
 vii 
 
Vlll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 already given to the public. My aim is only to catch 
 two or three prominent features of his character, intro- 
 ducing just so much of narration as may serve to render 
 my observations intelligible. 
 
 Legh Eichmond was born at Liverpool, Jan. 29, 1772. 
 He was the eldest child of Dr. Henry Eichmond, the 
 descendant of an ancient and honourable family. A 
 remarkable casualty befell him in his childhood, the 
 effects of which he never recovered. At a very early 
 age, in leaping from a wall, he contracted an injury in his 
 left leg, which issued in incurable lameness. It is some- 
 what singular that an accident nearly similar occurred 
 to a younger brother, and also to his second son. Each 
 of them, in infancy, fell from an open window. The 
 former was killed, and the latter was ever after afflicted 
 in the same limb with the same kind of lameness as his 
 father. 
 
 After a private preparatory education, Legh Eichmond 
 was admitted a member of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 While an under-graduate, he pursued his studies with a 
 talent and a zeal which gave fair promise that the highest 
 honours of his year were not beyond his reach. These 
 hopes were however blighted by a severe illness, which 
 was partly owing to his anxious and unremitted applica- 
 tion. Precluded by this cause, from engaging in the 
 honourable contention of the senate-house, he received 
 what is academically termed an aegrotat degree; com- 
 mencing B.A. in 1794 ; and with some intermissions he 
 resided in the university three years longer. 
 
 We are now to view Mr. Eichmond in a totally differ- 
 ent character. In the summer of 1797, he became, within 
 the space of a very few weeks, (to borrow his own 
 words,) "academically a master of arts, domestically a 
 husband, parochially a deacon." He had been originally 
 destined to the law ; but having imbibed a distaste for 
 that profession, his attention was subsequently directed 
 
INTKODUCTION. IX 
 
 to the churcli, and lie was now admitted to the sacred 
 office. Brading, a secluded village in the Isle of Wight, 
 was the scene of his earliest pastoral labours. He was 
 ordained to the curacy of this place and the little adjoin- 
 ing village of Yaverland ; and in Yaverland church he 
 delivered his first sermon. 
 
 These scenes will long be dear to Christian remem- 
 brance. Lovely in themselves, and consecrated, by the 
 pen of Legh Eichmond, they will be viewed with no 
 ordinary feelings : and he who disdains not the '* simple 
 annals of the poor," while he treads the sod which covers 
 "little Jane," or visits the lowly cottage of the ''Dairy- 
 man," will not fail to glorify God for those who here 
 have slept in Jesus, and " though dead, yet speak." 
 
 At the time of his ordination, Mr. Eichmond saw little 
 of the magnitude of that work in which he was engaging. 
 As yet, he was himself but little acquainted with the 
 things of God, and was therefore little qualified to be- 
 come the spiritual instructor of others. His habits of 
 life were decorous and exemplary, his pulpit composi- 
 tions interesting and moral, but as yet he was little 
 imbued with the spirit of vital godliness. This man, how- 
 ever, (may it not be said ?) was " a chosen vessel to the 
 Lord." Ere many months elapsed, a complete revolution 
 was effected in his religious sentiments. This is, under 
 God, mainly to be ascribed to the perusal of Mr. Wilber- 
 force's " Practical Yiew of Christianity," He now with 
 enlightened understanding and decisive zeal, set himself 
 to " do the work of an evangelist." Not only was he in 
 the pulpit, instant in " preaching the word," but he was 
 also to be found with his pastoral admonitions in the 
 dwellings of his flock, and could desend, with sweet and 
 winning gentleness, to " feed his lambs." The fruit of 
 his labours was speedily apparent. " Little Jane " was 
 the first flower which bloomed from the good seed he 
 
X INTKODUCTION". 
 
 The circumstances attendant -upon his intercourse with 
 the subjects of the Annals will be found narrated in the 
 several tracts. I only observe in this place, that "■ little 
 Jane " died January 80th. 1799, in her fifteenth year : 
 that the conversations with the "Negro Servant" were 
 held during the summer of 1803, and that the death of 
 the " Dairyman's Daughter " took place May 30th, 1801 : 
 her age was thirty-one. 
 
 After a residence of about seven years in the Isle of 
 Wight, where his labours had been evidently and largely 
 blessed, Mr. Richmond removed to London. He was 
 here to take a share in the duties of the Lock Chapel. 
 The very first sermon he delivered from the pulpit of 
 this place was, there is every reason to belive, under 
 God's blessing, the instrumental means of effecting a 
 saving change in the heart of, at least, one individual. 
 
 Scarcely, however, was he well settled in this new 
 scene, when the good providence of God removed him to 
 the rectory of Turvey, Bedfordshire, He was presented 
 to this living by Miss Fuller, in 1805. 
 
 Long will the name of Richmond be venerated at 
 Turvey ; long will the savour of his affectionate ministra- 
 tions abide in the hearts of his mourning flock. A singular 
 blessing still attended him. From the earliest to lite- 
 rally the latest, his preaching was visibly " in demonstra- 
 tion of the Spirit and of power." 
 
 It was during his residence at Turvey, that most of 
 Mr. Richmond's publications were undertaken. He had 
 previously printed two or three single semons ; * but it 
 was at Turvey that his great work, " The Fathers of the 
 English church," was carried on. For the superinten- 
 dance of this important undertaking he was eminently 
 qualified. Accident, or I would rather say, a remark- 
 
 * These were, a Fast-day Sermon, and one On the CIobo of the Year, 
 preached at Brading ; and a sermon on Cru.iUy to iho Brute Creation, 
 delivered at Bath. 
 
INTRODUCTION. XI 
 
 able providence^ had, in tlie first instance, introduced 
 him, while in the Isle of Wight, to the writings of our ear- 
 lier and greatest theologians ; and the study of them he 
 had ever since zealously prosecuted. To a familiar ac- 
 quaintance with the works of these divines, Mr. Kich- 
 mond united the greatest impartiality and judgment in 
 forming his selections. His work therefore presents, in a 
 comparatively small compass, a large proportion of the 
 most valuable of the remains of our martyrs an 1 confes- 
 3ors. It is not perhaps too much to say that it has been 
 mainly instrumental in awakening to the reformers that 
 attention and interest with which they are now increas- 
 ingly regarded. 
 
 It was during his residence at Turvey also that Mr. 
 Hichmond drew up the narratives which are contained in 
 the present volume. They were originally (in substance) 
 inserted in the earlier numbers of the Christian Guardian. 
 Having here attracted considerable attention, they were 
 then published in the form of separate tracts, and after- 
 wards, with considerable augmentations in the first edition 
 of this volume. 
 
 It may appear perhaps unnecessary to pronounce an 
 opinion^ on productions, which have been circulated by 
 millions, and translated into twenty languages; and 
 which, in a multitude of well-authenticated instances, 
 have been, by the blessing of God, signally effective of 
 good. I cannot however forbear to say, that in Legh Rich- 
 mond's writings, more than in those of perhaps any other 
 author, you behold the character of the man. His beau- 
 tiful simplicity, his lively imagination, his tenderness of 
 feeling, his devoted piety, were the characteristics of the 
 man which enshrined him in the affections of all who 
 knew him. And who can read a page of his Annals, 
 and not recognise in those interesting narratives the 
 same simple plainness, the same glowing fancy, the same 
 touching pathos, the same ardent piety ? In sketching 
 
XU INTRODUCTION. 
 
 his villagers, lie has unconsciously delineated himself. 
 He admits us to his retirement and meditations, shows 
 us his hopes and fears, and presents us with all the 
 secret workings of his soul. We admire the gifted 
 minister of God, who in the deep humility of his spirit 
 disdained not to listen to the voice of admonition, though 
 it reached him from the lowly cottage ; we cannot with- 
 hold our affection from the man. 
 
 If I were called on to say which of the narratives I 
 prefer, I should most probably be inclined to fix on that 
 of the '' Young Cottager." There is something, in my 
 judgment, irresistibly engaging in the character and 
 history of that simple girl. I can venerate the high and 
 exalted piety of the "Dairyman's Daughter," who, with 
 a masculine strength of understanding, had ever her 
 word of counsel even for the minister; but I love the 
 little, backward, neglected, retiring child, who starts forth 
 at once in all the moral beauty of Christian attainment. 
 There is something too in the condition of Jane which 
 seems especially to call for our sympathy. The Dairy- 
 man's Daughter was constantly surrounded by a circle 
 of affectionate relatives, who regarded her with reverence 
 and love ; while Jane's religion was, at best, little appre- 
 ciated, often despised and ridiculed by her family, and 
 her last hours were disturbed by sounds of blasphemy, 
 proceeding from a parent. Many of the incidents also 
 of this tale might be appealed to as conferring upon it a 
 peculiar interest. The scene, for example, where Mr. 
 Eichmond, on his first visit to her, while speaking of the 
 good news of the gospel, enquires, "who brings this 
 good news?" and is answered, "Sir, you brought it to 
 me;" I knoAV not who can read unmoved. Her parting 
 benediction too — " God bless and reward you"— when 
 with an unexpected exertion she threw her arms around 
 him and expired — is inexpressibly affecting. 
 
 I close what I have to say on the subject of these 
 
INTRODUCTION Xlll 
 
 tractS; by adding, that a few years ago, two gravestones 
 were erected in the churchyards of Arreton and Brading 
 respectively, to the memory of the " Dairyman's Daugh- 
 ter," and the "Young Cottager." 
 
 On the former are inscribed the following lines : the 
 composition of a lady. 
 
 " Stranger, if e'er by chance or feeling led, 
 Upon this hallowed earth thy footsteps tread, 
 Turn from the contemplation of the sod, 
 And think on her whose spirit rests with God. 
 Lowly her lot on earth — but he who bore 
 Tidings of grace and blessings to the poor 
 Gave her, his truth and faithfulness to prove, 
 The choicest treasures of his boundless love : — • 
 Faith, that dispelled affliction's darkest gloom, 
 Hope, that could cheer the passage to the tomb, 
 Peace, that not hell's dark legions could destroy, 
 And love, that filled the soul with heavenly joy. 
 Death of its sting disarmed, she knew no fear. 
 But tasted heaven, e'en while she lingered here : 
 Oh ; happy saint! may we like thee be blest. 
 In life be faithful, and in death find rest." 
 
 The following epitaph is from Mr. Eichmond's pen. 
 
 " Ye who delight the power of God to trace. 
 And mark with joy each monument of grace, 
 Tread lightly o'er this grave, as you explore 
 'The short and simple annals of the poor.' 
 
 " A child reposes underneath this sod, 
 A child to memory dear, and dear to God : 
 Rejoice, yet shed the sympathetic tear, 
 Jane, ' the Young Cottager,' lies buried here." 
 
 During his residence at Turvey, Mr. Eichmond became 
 extendedly known to the public as the cordial friend, 
 and ready advocate of the different religious societies, 
 which have within the last thirty years grown up 
 amongst us. His persuasive and pathetic eloquence in 
 
 2 
 
XIV INTEODUCTION. 
 
 the pulpit or on the platform, wlien awaking Christian 
 sympathy in behalf of the idolatrous Gentile, or the 
 unbelieving Jew, will not be readily forgotten by the 
 multitudes who have, so often, delighted and instructed, 
 hung upon his lips. I believe his earliest appearance in 
 this character, was on the ninth anniversary of the 
 Church Missionary Society, before whom he was ap- 
 pointed, in 1809, to preach their annual sermon. This 
 sermon may be appealed to as a fair and characteristic 
 specimen of his powers in the pulpit ; though I must be 
 allowed to say, that to his flowing and harmonious lan- 
 guage, his graceful delivery, and sweet expression of 
 features, beaming with love to God, and good- will to 
 men, imparted a charm which the mere reader of a 
 printed sermon can by no means duly appreciate. 
 
 His preaching, for a long series of years, was alto- 
 gether extemporaneous. His ready utterance, his exu- 
 berant fancy, his aptness of illustration, his deep know- 
 ledge of divine things, rendered his sermons always 
 interesting and useful. Perhaps he did not, upon common 
 occasions, allow himself sufficient previous study ; but if 
 this were his fault, he acted upon principle, " Why," he 
 would often say, " why need I labour, when our simple 
 villagers are far more usefully instructed in my plain, 
 easy, familiar manner ? The only result would be, that 
 I should address them in a style beyond their compre- 
 hension." 
 
 His appearance on the platform of a public meeting, 
 was universally hailed with pleasure. His ready adapta- 
 tion of passing incidents, the suavity of his addresses, 
 sometimes solemn, sometimes even jocose, interspersed 
 with interesting narratives, which he could so well 
 relate, deservedly placed him high m public esteem. 
 
 I ought, perhaps to state, that in 1814, Mr. Eichmond 
 was appointed chaplain to the late Duke of Kent, by 
 whom he was honoured with a share of his Koyal High 
 
INTRODUCTION. XV 
 
 ness's friendship. In 1817 Mr. R. was presented by tlie 
 late Emperor Alexander of Russia, with a splendid ring, 
 as a testimony of the approbation with which his Impe- 
 rial Majesty viewed the narratives in this volume. 
 
 Many peaceful years were passed at Turvey. Happy 
 in the bosom of his family, no man more excelled as a 
 pattern of domestic virtues than Legh Richmond. 
 
 At length, in 1825, Mr. R.'s domestic happiness sus- 
 tained a severe blo^ by 'the death of his second son, a 
 youth in his nineteenth year. For this beloved child, he 
 had fostered many a fond hope and anxious expectation, 
 and beheld with all a father's joy, "non flosculos — sed 
 jam certos atque deformatos fructus." This fair flower 
 was withered by consumption, and the bereaved parent, 
 though he submitted as a Christian, yet sorrowed as a 
 man. In a few short months the stroke was repeated. 
 Intelligence arrived that his eldest son, who had been 
 absent many years, had died on his voyage from India 
 to England. 
 
 These afflictive dispensations had a marked and pecu- 
 liar effect upon Legh Richmond. He who used to be 
 the life of the domestic and social circle, would now be 
 silent and abstracted: yet it was not the morbid gloom 
 of a repining heart, it was rather the solemnity of con- 
 viction that he should ere long rejoin his lamented 
 children. His bodily health too seemed in some measure 
 decaying. His multitude of pastoral duties were too 
 heavy for his strength. For the last twelve months of 
 his life he was troubled with an irritating cough, which 
 seemed to indicate an affection of the lungs. At length, 
 (March 1827,) he contracted a violent cold, which issued 
 in pleurisy ; from which however he shortly appeared to 
 be recovering. During all this time, when certainly no 
 immediate danger was apprehended, he was peacefully 
 and quietly setting his house in order. To his family 
 
XVI INTEODUCTION. 
 
 lie knew the idea of separation would be agony: he 
 therefore scarcely hinted to them what he felt was nigh 
 at hand: but to a clerical friend, he, in striking words, 
 professed that simple reliance on the atonement of Christ, 
 which alone can cheer and support the soul in the hour 
 of dissolution. It soon became evident to those around 
 him, that the flood of life was ebbing calmly yet fast : 
 and at last, (May 8,) without pain or struggle, the ready 
 spirit sweetly and softly passed from her mortal tene- 
 ment : and Legh Kichmond slept in Jesus. 
 
 Farewell, dear friend and father ! Yery pleasant were 
 the hours and years of our communion: but they are 
 passed away, and the savour only, sad yet sweet, re- 
 mains. ''Farewell, dear friend, till the morning of an 
 eternal day renew our personal intercourse!" May / 
 meet thee in a better world. 
 
 I cannot but connect the closing hours of my beloved 
 friend, with that affecting prayer which he has breathed 
 in the Young Cottager, (Part lY.) He had been describ- 
 ing the useful course and peaceful termination of a little 
 rivulet, which glides through a very lovely glen, by 
 which he was meditating. " May my course be like unto 
 thine, thou little rivulet ! Though short be my span of 
 life, yet may I be useful to my fellow-sinners, as I travel 
 onwards! Let me be a dispenser of spiritual support 
 and health to many ! Like this stream may I prove the 
 poor man's friend by the way, and water the souls that 
 thirst for the river of life, wherever I meet them ! And 
 if it pleases thee, my God, let me in my latter end be 
 like this brook! It calmly, though not quite silently 
 flows through this scene of peace and loveliness, just 
 before it enters the sea. Let me thus gently close my 
 days likewise ; and may I not un usefully tell to others 
 of the goodness and mercy of my Saviour, till I arrive at 
 the vast ocean of eternity." 
 
INTRODUCTION. XVll 
 
 That prayer was surely answered. He did tell to men, 
 with abundant blessing, of the goodness and mercy of 
 his Saviour : he did thus gently close his days. 
 
 Soldier of Christ, well done ! 
 
 Praise be thy new employ ; 
 And while eternal ages run, 
 
 Rest in thy Saviour's joy. 
 
 Islington, Feb. 2lst, 1828. 
 
 J. A. 
 
 2* 
 
THE 
 
 DAIRYMAN^S DAUGHTER, 
 
 PAET I. 
 
 It is a delightful employment to discover and trace the 
 operations of divine grace, as they are manifested in the 
 dispositions and lives of God's real children. It is 
 peculiarly gratifying to observe how frequently, among 
 the poorer classes of mankind, the sunshine of mercy 
 beams upon the heart, and bears witness to the image 
 of Christ which the Spirit of God has impressed there- 
 upon. Among such the sincerity and simplicity of the 
 Christian character appear encumbered by those obsta- 
 cles to spirituality of mind and conversation, which too 
 often prove a great hinderance to those who live in the 
 higher ranks. Many are the difficulties which riches, 
 worldly consequence, high connections, and the luxu- 
 rious refinements of polished society, throw in the way 
 of religious profession. Happy indeed it is (and some 
 such happy instances I know) where grace has so strik- 
 ingly supported its conflict with natural pride, self impor- 
 tance, the allurements of luxury, ease, and worldly opin- 
 ion, that the noble and mighty appear adorned with 
 genuine poverty of spirit, self-denial, humble-mindeness 
 and deep spirituality of heart. 
 
 But, in general, if we want to see religion in its most 
 simple and pure character, we must look for it among the 
 poor of this world, who are rich in faith. How often 
 
20 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 is the poor man's cottage the palace of God ! Many can 
 truly declare, that they have there learned the most valu- 
 able lessons of faith and hope, and there witnessed the 
 most striking demonstrations of the wisdom, power, and 
 goodness of God, 
 
 The character which the present narrative is designed 
 to introduce to the notice of my readers, is given /rom 
 real life and circumstance : I first became acquainted with 
 her by receiving the following letter, which I transcribe 
 from the original now before me. 
 
 "Kev. Sir, 
 
 " I take the liberty to write to you. Pray 
 excuse me, for I have never spoken to you. But I once 
 
 heard you, when you preached at church. I believe 
 
 you are a faithful preacher to warn sinners to flee from 
 the wrath that will be revealed against all those that live 
 in sin, and die impenitent. Pray go on in the strength 
 of the Lord. And may he bless you, and crown your 
 labour of love with success, and give you souls for your 
 hire! 
 
 "The Lord has promised to be with those whom he 
 calls and sends forth to preach his word to the end of 
 time : for without him we can do nothing. I was much 
 rejoiced to hear of those marks of love and affection to 
 that poor soldier of the S. D. militia. Surely the love 
 of Christ sent you to that poor man : may that love ever 
 dwell richly in you by faith ! may it constrain you to 
 seek the wandering souls of men with the fervent desire 
 to spend and be spent for his glory ! May the unction 
 of the Holy Spirit attend the word spoken by you with 
 power, and convey deep conviction to the hearts of your 
 hearers! May many of them experience the divine 
 change of being made new creatures in Christ ! 
 
 " Sir, be fervent in prayer with God for the conviction 
 and conversion of sinners. His power is great, and who 
 
THE daieyman's daugiitee. 21 
 
 can withstand it ? He has promised to answer the prayer 
 of faith, that is put up in his Son's name. ' Ask what 
 ye will, it shall be granted you.' How this should 
 strengthen our faith when we are taught by the word 
 and the Spirit how to pray ! O that sweet inspiring 
 hope ! how it lifts up the fainting spirits, when we look 
 over the precious promises of God ! What a mercy if 
 we know Christ and the power of his resurrection in our 
 own hearts ! Through faith in Christ we rejoice in hope, 
 and look up in expectation of that time drawing near, 
 when all shall know and fear the Lord, and when a 
 nation shall be born in a day. 
 
 ^'What a happy time, when Christ's kingdom shall 
 come ! then shall ' his will be done on earth as it is 
 in heaven.' Men shall be daily fed with the manna of 
 his love, and delight themselves in the Lord all the day 
 long. Then what a paradise below will they enjoy! 
 How it animates and enlivens my soul with vigour to 
 pursue the ways of God, that I may even now bear some 
 humble part in giving glory to God and the Lamb ! 
 
 '' Sir, I begin to write this on Sunday, being detained 
 from attending on public worship. My dear and only 
 
 sister, living^ as a servant with Mrs. , was so ill, that 
 
 I came here to attend in her place and on her. But now 
 she is no more. 
 
 " I was going to entreat you to write to her in answer 
 to this ; she being convinced of the evil of her past life, 
 and that she had not walked in the ways of God, nor 
 sought to please him. But she earnestlydesiredtodoso. 
 This makes me have a comfortable hope that she is gone 
 to glory, and that she is now joining in sweet concert 
 with the angelic host in heaven, to sing the wonders of 
 redeeming love. I hope I may now "write, ' Blessed are 
 the dead that die in the Lord.' 
 
 " She expressed a desire to receive the Lord's Supper 
 and commemorate his precious death and sufferings. I 
 
22 THE DAIKYMAISr's'DAUGHTEB. 
 
 told lier as well as I was able, what it was to receive 
 Christ into her heart; but as her weakness of body 
 increased, she did not mention it again. She seemed 
 quite resigned before she died. I do hope she is gone 
 from a world of death and sin to be with God for ever. 
 
 " Sir, I hope you will not be offended with me, a poor 
 ignorant person, to take such a liberty as to write to you. 
 But I trust, as you are called to instruct sinners in the 
 ways of God, you will bear with me, and be so kind to 
 answer this ill- wrote letter, and give me some instruc- 
 tions. It is my heart's desire to have the mind that was 
 in Christ, that when I awake up in his likeness, then I 
 may be satisfied. 
 
 " My sister expressed a wish that you might bury her. 
 The minister of our parish, whither she will be carried, 
 
 cannot come. She will lie at . She died on Tuesday 
 
 morning, and will be buried on Friday or Saturday 
 (whichever is most convenient to you) at three o'clock in 
 the afternoon. Please to send an answer by the bearer, 
 to let me know whether you can comply with this 
 request, 
 
 ^' From your unworthy servant, 
 
 '' Elizabeth W" e." 
 
 I was much struck with the simple and earnest strain 
 of devotion which this letter breathed. It was but indif- 
 ferently written and spelt. But this the rather tended to 
 endear the hitherto unknown writer, as it seemed charac- 
 teristic of the union of humbleness of station with 
 eminence of piety. I felt quite thankful that I was 
 favoured with a correspondent of this description ; the 
 more so, as such characters were at that time very rare 
 in the neighbourhood. I have often wished that episto 
 lary intercourse of this kind was more encouraged and 
 practised among us. I have the greatest reason to speak 
 well of its effects both on myself and others. Communi- 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 23 
 
 cation by letter as well as by conversation with the pious 
 poor, has often been the instrument of animating and 
 reviving my own heart in the midst of duty, and of 
 giving me the most profitable information for the general 
 conduct of the ministerial office. 
 
 As soon as the letter was read, I enquired who was 
 the bearer of it. 
 
 ''He is waiting at the outside of the gate, Sir;" was 
 the reply. 
 
 I went out to speak to him, and saw a venerable old 
 man, whose long hoary hair arid deeply wrinkled coun- 
 tenance commanded more than common respect. He 
 was resting his arm upon the gate, and tears were 
 streaming down his cheeks. On my approach he made 
 a low bow and said, 
 
 " Sir, I have brought you a letter from my daughter ; 
 but I fear you will think us very bold in asking you to 
 take so much trouble." 
 
 ''By no means," I replied; "I shall be truly glad to 
 oblige you and any of your family in this matter, 
 provided it be quite agreeable to the minister of your 
 parish." 
 
 " Sir, he told me yesterday, that he should be very 
 glad if I could procure some gentleman to come and 
 bury my poor child for him, as he lives five miles off, 
 and has particular business on that day : so when I told 
 my daughter, she asked me to come to you. Sir, and 
 bring that letter, which would explain the matter. 
 
 I desired him to come into the house, and then said, 
 
 " What is your occupation ? " 
 
 " Sir, I have lived most of my days in a little cottage 
 
 at , six miles from here. I have rented a few acres 
 
 of ground, and kept some cows, which, in addition to 
 my day labour, has been the means of supporting and 
 bringing up my family." 
 
 '' What family have you ? " 
 
24 THE daieyman's daughter. 
 
 ^'A wife; now getting very aged and helpless, two 
 sons, and one daughter ; for my other poor dear child is 
 just departed out of this wicked world." 
 
 " I hope for a better." 
 
 ' I hope so too : poor thing, she did not use to take to 
 such good ways as her sister ; but I do believe that her 
 sister's manner of talking with her before she died was 
 the means of saving her soul. What a mercy it is to 
 have such a child as mine is ! I never thought about 
 my own soul seriously till she, poor girl, begged and 
 prayed me to flee from the wrath to come." 
 
 " How old are you ? " 
 
 '' Near seventy, and my wife is older ; we are getting 
 told and almost past our labour, but our daughter has 
 left a good place, where she lived in service, on purpose 
 to come home and take care of us and our little dairy. 
 And a dear, dutiful, affectionate girl she is." 
 
 " Was she always so ? " 
 
 " IsTo, Sir ; when she was very young, she was all for 
 the world, and pleasure, and dress, and company. Indeed 
 we were all very ignorant, and thought if we took care 
 for this life, and wronged nobody, we should be sure to 
 go to heaven at last. My daughters were both wilful, 
 and like ourselves, strangers to the ways of Grod and the 
 word of his grace. But the eldest of them went out to 
 service, and some years ago she heard a sermon preached 
 
 at church, by a gentleman that was going to , 
 
 as chaplain to the colony, and from that time she seemed 
 quite another creature. She began to read the Bible, 
 and became sober and steady. The first time she returned 
 home afterwards to see us, she brought us a guinea which 
 she had saved from her wages, and said, as we wero 
 getting old, she was sure we should want help ; adding, 
 that she did not wish to spend it in fine clothes, as she 
 used to do, only to feed pride and vanity. She said, 
 she would rather show gratitude to her dear father 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 25 
 
 and motlier, because Christ had shown such mercy to 
 her. 
 
 " We wondered to hear her talk, and took great delight 
 in her company ; for her temper and behaviour were so 
 humble and kind, she seemed so desirous to do us good 
 both in soul and body, and was so different from what 
 we had ever seen her before, that, careless and ignorant 
 as we had been, we began to think there must be some- 
 thing real in religion, or it never could alter a person so 
 much in a little time. 
 
 " Her youngest sister, poor soul ! used to laugh and 
 ridicule her at that time, and said her head was turned 
 with her new ways. 'No, sister,' she would say, 'not 
 my head, but I hope my heart is turned from the love of 
 Bin to the love of God. I wish you may one day see, as 
 I do, the danger and vanity of your present condition.' 
 
 "Her poor sister would reply, 'I do not want to hear 
 any of your preaching ;• I* am no worse than other people, 
 and that is enough for me.' — ' Well, sister,' Elizabeth 
 would say, ' if you will not hear me, you cannot hinder 
 me from praying for you, which I do with all my heart.' 
 
 " And now. Sir, I believe those prayers are answered. 
 For when her sister was taken ill, Elizabeth went to 
 
 Mrs. 's to wait in her place, and take care of her. 
 
 She said a great deal to her about her soul, and the poor 
 girl began to be so deeply affected, and sensible of her 
 past sin, and so thanlcful for her sister's kind behaviour, 
 that it gave her great hopes indeed for her sake. When 
 my wife and I wen,t to see her as she lay sick, she told 
 us how grieved and ashamed she was of her past life ; 
 but said, she had a hope through grace that her dear 
 sister's Saviour would be her Saviour too ; for she saw 
 her own sinfulness, felt her own helplessness, and only 
 wished to cast herself upon -Christ as her hope and 
 salvation. 
 
 ''And now. Sir, she is gone; and I hope and thuih 
 
26 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 Iter sister's prayers for her conversion to God "have been 
 answered. The Lord grant the same for her poor father 
 and mother's sake likewise ! " 
 
 This conversation was a very pleasing commentary 
 upon the letter which I had received, and made me 
 anxious both to comply with the request, and to become 
 acquainted with the writer. I promised the good Dairy- 
 man to attend on the Friday at the appointed hour; and 
 after some more conversation respecting his own state 
 of mind under the present trial, he went away. 
 
 He was a reverend old man; his furrowed cheeks, 
 white locks, weeping eyes, bent shoulders, and feeble 
 gait, were characteristic of the aged pilgrim. As he 
 slowly walked onwards, supported by a stick, which 
 seemed to have been the companion of many a long year, 
 a train of reflections occurred, which I retrace with plea- 
 sure and emotion. 
 
 At the appointed hour I ari*ved at the church ; and 
 after a little while, was summoned to the churchyard 
 gate to meet the faneral procession. The aged parents, 
 the elder brother, and the sister, with other relatives, 
 formed an affecting group. I was struck with the humble, 
 pious, and pleasing countenance of the young woman 
 from whom I had received the letter. It bore the marks 
 of great seriousness without affectation, and of much 
 serenity mingled with a glow of devotion. 
 
 A circumstance occurred during the reading of the 
 Burial Service, which I think it right to mention, as one 
 among many testimonies of the solemn and impressive 
 tendency of our truly evangelical Liturgy. 
 
 A man of the village, who had hitherto been of a very 
 careless and even profligate character, went into the 
 church through mere curiosity, and with no better pur- 
 pose than that of vacantly gazing at the ceremony. He 
 came likewise to the grave, and during the reading of 
 those prayers which are appointed for that part of the 
 
THE dairyman's daugijtek. 27 
 
 service, Lis mind received a deep, serious conviction of 
 his sin and spiritual danger. It was an impression that 
 never wore off, but gradually ripened into the most 
 satisfactory evidence of an entire change, of which I had 
 man and long-continued proofs. He always referred to 
 the Burial Service, and to some particular sentences of 
 it, as the clearly ascertained instrument of bringing him 
 through grace, to the knowledge of the truth. 
 
 The day was therefore one to be remembered. Ee- 
 membered let it be by those who love to hear " the short 
 and simple annals of the poor." 
 
 Was there not a manifest and happy connexion 
 between the circumstances that providently brought the 
 serious and the careless to the same grave on that day 
 together ? How much do they lose who neglect to trace 
 the leadings of God in providence, as links in the chain 
 of his eternal purpose of redemption and grace I 
 
 '' While Infidels may scoff, let us adore 1 " 
 
 After the service was concluded, I had a short conversa- 
 tion with the good old couple and their daughter. She 
 told me that she intended to remain a week or two at the 
 gentleman's house where her sister died, till another 
 servant should arrive and take her sister's place. 
 
 "I shall be truly obliged," said she "by an oppor- 
 tunity of conversing with you, either there or at my 
 father's, when I return home, which will be in tl^e course 
 of a fortnight at the furthest. I shall be glad to talk to 
 you about my sister, whom you have just buried." 
 
 Her aspect and address were highly interesting. I 
 promised to see her very soon; and then returned home, 
 quietly reflecting on the circumstances of the funeral at 
 which I had been ena^aofed. I blessed the God of the 
 poor, and prayed that the poor might become rich in 
 faith, and the rich be made poor in spirit. 
 
28 THE dairyman's DAUaHTER. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 A SWEET solemnity often possesses the mind, whilst 
 retracing past intercourse with departed friends. How 
 much is this increased^ when they were such as lived 
 and died in the Lord! The remembrance of former 
 scenes and conversations with those, who, we believe, are 
 now enjoying the uninterrupted happiness of a better 
 world, fills the heart with pleasing sadness, and animates 
 the soul with the hopeful anticipation of a day when the 
 glory of the Lord shall be revealed in the assembling of 
 all his children together, never more to be separated. 
 Whether they were rich or poor, while on earth, is a 
 matter of trifling consequence : the valuable part of their 
 character is, that they are kings and priests unto God, 
 and this is their true nobility. In the number of now 
 departed believers, with whom I once loved to converse 
 on the grace and glory of the kingdom of God, was the 
 Dairyman's daughter. 
 
 About a week after the funeral, I went to visit the 
 
 family at , in whose service the youngest sister had 
 
 lived and died, and where Elizabeth was requested to 
 remain for a short time in her stead. 
 
 The house was a large and venerable mansion. It 
 stood in a beautiful valley at the foot of a high hill. It 
 was embowered in fine woods, which were interspersed in 
 every direction with rising, falling, and swelling grounds. 
 The manor-house had evidently descended through a 
 long line of ancestry, from a distant period of time. 
 The Gothic character of its original architecture was still 
 preserved in the latticed windows, adorned with carved 
 divisions and pillars of stonework. Several pointed 
 terminations also, in the construction of the roof, accord- 
 ing to the custom of our fore-fathers, fully corresponded 
 with the general features of the building. 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 29 
 
 One end of the house was entirely clotlied with the 
 thick foliage of an immense ivy, which climbed beyond 
 customary limits, and embraced a lofty chimney up to 
 its very summit. Such a tree seemed congenial to the 
 walls that supported it, and conspired with the antique 
 fashion of the place to carry imagination back to the 
 days of our ancestors. 
 
 As I approached, I was led to reflect on the lapse of 
 ages, and the successive generations of men, each in 
 their turn occupying lands, houses, and domains ; each 
 in their turn also disappearing, and leaving their 
 inheritance to be enjoyed by others. David once ob- 
 served the same, and cried out, " Behold thou hast made 
 my days as a handbreadth, and mine age is as nothing 
 before thee : verily every man at his best estate is alto- 
 gether vanity. Surely every man walketh in a vain 
 show ; surely they are disquieted in vain : he heapeth 
 up riches, and cannot tell who shall gather them." 
 
 Happy would it be for the rich, if they more frequently 
 meditated on the uncertainty of all their possessions, and 
 the frail nature of every earthly tenure. " Their inward 
 thought is, that their houses shall continue for ever, and 
 their dwelling-places to all generations ; they call their 
 lands after their own names. ISTevertheless, man being 
 in honour, abideth not : he is like the beasts that perish. 
 This their way is their folly ; yet their posterity approve 
 their sayings. Like sheep, they are laid in the grave : 
 death shall feed on them : and their beauty shall con- 
 sume in the grave, from their dwelling." 
 
 As I advanced to the mansion, a pleasing kind of 
 gloom overspread the front: it was occasioned by the 
 shade of trees, and gave a characteristic effect to the 
 ancient fabric. I instantly recollected that death had 
 very lately visited the house, and that one of its present 
 inhabitants was an affectionate mourner for a departed 
 sister. 3* 
 
80 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 There is a solemnity in tlie thouglit of a recent death, 
 which will associate itself with the very walls from 
 whence we are conscious that a soul has just taken its 
 flight to eternity. 
 
 After passing some time in conversation with the 
 superiors of the family, in the course of which I was 
 much gratified by hearing of the unremitted attention 
 which the elder sister had paid to the younger, during 
 the illness of the latter ; I received likewise other testi- 
 monies of the excellency of her general character and 
 conduct in the house : I then took leave, requesting per- 
 mission to see her, agreeably to the promise I had made 
 at the funeral, not many days before. 
 
 I was shown into a parlour, Avhere I found her alone. 
 She was in deep mourning. She had a calmness and 
 serenity in her countenance, which exceedingly struck 
 me, and impressed some idea of those attainments which 
 a further acquaintance with her afterwards so much 
 increased. 
 
 She spoke of her sister. I had the satisfaction of 
 finding that she had given very hopeful proofs of a 
 change of heart, before she died. The prayers and 
 earnest exhortations of Elizabeth had been blessed to a 
 happy effect. She described what had passed Avith such 
 a mixture of sisterly affection, and pious dependence 
 on the mercy of God to sinners, as convinced me that 
 her own heart was under the influence of "pure and 
 undefiled religion." 
 
 She requested leave occasionally to correspond with 
 me on serious subjects, stating that she needed much 
 instruction. She hoped I would pardon the liberty 
 which she had taken by introducing herself to my 
 notice. She expressed a trust that the Lord would 
 overrule both the death of her sister, and the personal 
 acquaintance with me that resulted from it, to a present 
 and future good, as it respected herself and also her 
 
THE DAIKYMAN's DAUGHTER. 31 
 
 parents, with whom sho statedly lived, and to whom she 
 expected to return in a few days. 
 
 Finding that she was wanted in some household duty, 
 I did not remain long with her ; but left her with an 
 assurance that I proposed to visit her parents shortly. 
 
 " Sir," said she, " I take it very kind that you have 
 condescended to leave the company of the rich and con- 
 verse with the poor. I,wish I could have said more to 
 you respecting my own state of mind. Perhaps I shall 
 be better able another time. When you next visit me, 
 instead of finding me in these noble walls, you will see 
 me in a poor cottage. But I am happiest when there. 
 Once more. Sir, I thank you for your past kindness to 
 me and mine, and may God in many ways bless you 
 for it I" 
 
 I quitted the house with no small degree of satisfac- 
 tion, in consequence of the new acquaintance which I 
 had formed. I discovered traces of a cultivated, as well 
 as a spiritual mind. I felt that religious intercourse 
 with those of low estate may be rendered eminently 
 useful to others, whose outward station and advantages 
 are far above their own. 
 
 How often does it appear, that " God hath chosen the 
 weak things of the world to confound the things which 
 are mighty ; and base things of the world, and things 
 which are despised, hath God chosen, and things which 
 are not, to' bring to nought things that are ; that no flesh 
 should glory in his presence." 
 
 It was not unfrequently my custom, when my mind 
 was filled with any interesting subject for meditation, to 
 seek some spot where the beauties of natural prospect 
 might help to form pleasing and useful associations. I 
 therefore ascended gradually to the very summit of the 
 hill adjoining the mansion where my visit had just been 
 made. Here was placed an elevated sea-mark : it was in 
 the form of a triangular pyramid, and built of stone. I 
 
82 THE DAIKY man's DAUGHTEE. 
 
 sat down on tlie ground near it, and looked at the sur- 
 rounding prospect, wliicli was distinguished for beauty 
 and magnificence. It was a lofty station, which com- 
 manded a complete circle of interesting objects to engage 
 the spectator's attention. 
 
 Southward the view was terminated by a long range 
 of hills, at about six miles distance. They met, to the 
 westward, another chain of hills, of which the one 
 whereon I sat formed a link, and the whole together 
 nearly encompassed a rich and beautiful valley, filled 
 with corn-fields and pastures. Through this vale winded 
 a small river for many miles : much cattle were feeding 
 on its banks. Here and there lesser eminences arose in 
 the valley ; some covered with wood, others with corn 
 or grass, and a few with heath or fern. One of these 
 little hills was distinguished by a parish church at the 
 top, presenting a striking feature in the landscape. 
 Another of these elevations, situated in the centre of the 
 valley, was adorned with a venerable holly-tree, which 
 has grown there for ages. Its singular height and wide- 
 spreading dimensions not only render it an object of 
 curiosity to the traveller, but of daily usefulness to the 
 pilot, as a mark visible from the sea, whereby to direct 
 his vessel safe into harbour. Villages, churches, country- 
 seats, farm-houses, and cottages, were scattered over 
 every part of the southern valley. In this direction also, 
 at the foot of the hill where I was stationed, appeared 
 the ancient mansion, which I had quitted, embellished 
 with its woods, groves, and gardens. 
 
 South-eastward, I saw the open ocean, bounded only 
 by the horizon. The sun shone, and gilded the waves 
 with a glittering light that sparkled in the most brilliant 
 manner. More to the east, in continuation of that line 
 of hills where I was placed, rose two downs, one beyond 
 the other ; both covered with sheep, and the sea just 
 visible over the farthest of them, as a terminating 
 
THE DAIEYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 33 
 
 boundary. In. this point ships were seen, some sailing, 
 others at anchor. Here the little river, which watered 
 the southern valley, finished its course, and ran through 
 meadows into the sea, in an eastward direction. 
 
 On the north the sea appeared like a noble river, 
 varying from three to seven miles in breadth, between 
 the banks of the opposite coast and those of the island 
 which I inhabited. Immediately underneath me was a 
 fine woody district of country, diversified by many 
 pleasing objects. Distant towns were visible on the 
 opposite shore. Numbers of ships occupied the sheltered 
 station which this northern channel afforded them. The 
 eye roamed with delight over an expanse of near and 
 remote beauties, which alternately caught the observa- 
 tion, and which harmonized together, and produced a 
 scene of peculiar interest. 
 
 Westward the hills followed each other, forming 
 several intermediate and partial valleys, in a kind of 
 undulations, like the waves of the sea ; and bending to 
 the south, completed the boundary of the larger valley 
 before described, to the southward of the hill on which I 
 sat. In many instances the hills were cultivated with 
 corn to their very summits, and seemed to defy the 
 inclemency of weather, which, at these heights, usually 
 renders the ground incapable of bringing forth and 
 ripening the crops of grain. One hill alone, the highest 
 in elevation, and about ten miles to the south-westward, 
 was enveloped in a cloud, which just permitted a dim 
 and hazy sight of a signal-post, a light-house, and an 
 ancient chantry, built on its summit. 
 
 Amidst these numerous specimens of delightful scenery 
 I found a mount for contemplation, and here I indulged it. 
 
 " How much of the natural beauties of Paradise stiD 
 remain in the world, although its spiritual character has 
 been so awfully defaced by sin ! But when divine grace 
 renews the heart of the fallen sinner, Paradise is regained. 
 
84 THE DAIEY man's DAUGHTER. 
 
 and mucli of its beauty restored to tlie soul. As this 
 prospect is compounded of hill and dale, land and sea, 
 woods and plains, all sweetly blended together and 
 relieving each other in the landscape : so do the gracious 
 dispositions wrought in the soul, produce a beauty and 
 harmony of scene to which it was before a stranger. 
 
 I looked towards the village in the plain below, where 
 the Dairyman's younger daughter was buried. I retraced 
 the simple solemnities of the funeral. I connected the 
 principles and conduct of her sister with the present 
 probably happy state of her soul in the world of spirits, 
 and was greatly impressed with a sense of the importance 
 of family influence as a mean of grace. " That young 
 woman," I thought, "has been the conductor of not only 
 ' a sister, but perhaps a father and mother also, to the true 
 knowledge of God, and may, by divine blessing, become 
 so to others. It is a glorious occupation to win souls to 
 Christ, and guide them out of Egyptian bondage through 
 the wilderness into the promised Canaan. Happy are 
 the families who are walking hand in hand together, as 
 pilgrims, towards the heavenly country. May the num- 
 ber of such be daily increased I " 
 
 Casting my eye over the numerous dwellings in the 
 vales on my right and left, I could not help thinking, 
 "how many of their inhabitants are ignorant of the ways 
 of God, and strangers to his grace ! May this thought 
 stimulate to activity and diligence in the cause of immor- 
 tal souls! They are precious in God's sight— they 
 ought to be so in ours." 
 
 Some pointed and affecting observations to that effect 
 recurred to my mind as having been made by the young 
 person with whom I had been just conversing. Her 
 mind appeared to be much impressed with the duty of 
 speaking and acting for God "while it is day;" con- 
 scious that " the night cometh, when no man can work." 
 Her laudable anxiety on this head was often testified to 
 
THE DAIKYMAN'S D A U G H T E E. 85 
 
 me afterwards, both, by letter and conversation. What 
 she felt herself in respect to endeavours to do good, she 
 happily communicated to others with whom she corres- 
 ponded or conversed. 
 
 Time would not permit my continuing so long in the 
 enjoyment of these meditations on this lovely mount of 
 observation, as my heart desired. On my return home 
 1 wrote a few lines to the Dairyman's daughter, chiefly 
 dictated by the train of thought which had occupied my 
 mind while I sat on the hill. 
 
 On the next Sund^ evening I received her reply, of 
 which the following is a transcript. 
 
 "Sunday. 
 
 "Key. Sir, 
 
 '' I am this day deprived of an opportunity 
 of attending the house of God, to worship him. But, 
 glory be to his name ! he is not confined to time nor 
 place. I feel him present with me where I am, and his 
 presence makes my Paradise, for where he is, is heaven. 
 I pray God that a double portion of his grace and Holy 
 Spirit may rest upon you this day; that his blessing 
 may attend all your faithful labours ; and that you may 
 find the truth of his Word, assuring us, that wherever 
 we assemble together in his name, there he is in the 
 midst to bless every waiting soul. 
 
 " How precious are all his promises I We ought never 
 to doubt the truth of his word. For he will never 
 deceive us if we go on in faith, always expecting to 
 receive what his goodness waits to give. Dear Sir, I 
 have felt it very consoling to read your kind letter to- 
 day. I feel thankful to God for ministers in our church 
 who love and fear his name : there it is where the people 
 in general look for salvation ; and there may they ever 
 find it, for Jesu's sake ! May his Word, spoken by you 
 his chosen vessel of grace, be made spirit and life to their 
 
6b THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 dead souls ! May it come from you as an instrument in 
 the hands of God, as sharp arrows from a strong archer, 
 and strike a death-blow to all their sins ! How I lonsc 
 to see the arrows of conviction fasten on the minds of 
 those that are hearers of the Word and not doers ! O 
 Sir ! be ambitious for the glory of God and the salvation 
 of souls. It will add to the lustre of your crown in 
 glory, as well as to your present joy and peace. We 
 should be willing to spend and be spent in his service, 
 saying, ' Lord, may thy will be done by me in earth, 
 even as it is , by thy angels in Ireaven.' So you may 
 expect to see his face with joy, and say, 'Here am I, 
 Lord, and all the souls thou hast given me.' 
 
 ''It seems wonderful that we should neglect any 
 opportunity of doing good, when there is, if it be done 
 from love to God and his creatures, a present reward of 
 grace, in reflecting that we are using the talents com- 
 mitted to our care according to the power and ability 
 which we receive from him. God requires not what he 
 has not promised to give. But when we look back, and 
 reflect that there have been opportunities in which we 
 have neglected to take up our cross and speak and act 
 for God; what a dejection of mind we feel! We are 
 then justly filled with shame. Conscious of being 
 ashamed of Christ, we cannot come with that holy bold- 
 ness to a throne of grace, nor feel that free access when 
 we make our supplications. 
 
 "We are commanded to provoke one another to love 
 and good works ; and where two are agreed together in 
 the things of God, tl;iey may say, 
 
 ' And if our fellowship below, 
 
 In Jesus be so sweet, 
 What heights of rapture shall we know, 
 
 When round the throne we meet! ' 
 
 " Sir, I hope Mrs. and you are both of one heart 
 
 and one mind. Then you will sweetly agree in all things 
 
THE DAIEY man's DAUGHTEK. 37 
 
 that make for your present and eternal happiness. Christ 
 sent his disciples out, not singly, but two and two ; that 
 they might comfort and help each other in those ways 
 and works which their Lord commanded them to pursue. 
 
 '' It has been my lot to have been alone the greatest 
 part of the time that I have known the ways of God. I 
 therefore find it such a treat to my soul when I can meet 
 with any who love to talk of the goodness and love of 
 God, and all his gracious dealings. What a comfortable 
 reflection, to think of spending a whole eternity in that 
 delightful employment! to tell to listening angels his 
 love, ' immense, unsearchable ! ' 
 
 ^' Dear Sir, I thank you for your kindness and conde- 
 scension in leaving those that are of high rank and birth 
 in the world, to converse with me who am but a servant 
 here below. But when I consider what a high calling, 
 what honour and dignity God has conferred upon me, to 
 be called his child, to be born of his Spirit, made an heir 
 of glory, and joint heir with Christ; how humble and 
 circumspect should I be in all my ways, as a dutiful and 
 loving child to an affectionate and loving Father ! When 
 I seriously consider these things, it fills me with love 
 and gratitude to God, and I do not wish for any higher 
 station, nor envy the rich. I rather pity them if they 
 are not good as well as great. My blessed Lord was 
 pleased to appeJtr in the form of a servant ; and I long 
 to be like him. 
 
 " I did not feel in so happy a frame for conversation 
 that day, nor yet that liberty to explain my thoughts, 
 which I sometimes do. The fault must have been all in 
 myself; for there was nothing in you but what seemed 
 to evidence a Christian spirit, temper, and disposition. I 
 very much wished for an opportunity to converse with 
 you. I feel very thankful to God that you do take up 
 the cross, and despise the shame : if you are found faith- 
 ful, you will soon sit down with him in glory 
 
38 
 
 " I have written to the Eev. Mr. , to thank him 
 
 for permitting you to perform the Burial Service at , 
 
 over my dear departed sister, and to tell him of the kind 
 way in which you consented to do it. I should mention 
 that your manner of reading the service on that day had 
 a considerable effect on the hearers. 
 
 "Pray excuse all faults, and correct my errors. I 
 expect in a few days to return home to my parents' 
 house. We shall rejoice to see you there. 
 
 " From your humble servant in Christ, 
 
 u E W ." 
 
 It was impossible to view such a correspondent with 
 indifference. I had just returned from a little cottage 
 assembly, where, on Sunday evenings, I sometimes went 
 to instruct a few poor families in one of the hamlets 
 belonging to my parish. I read the letter, and closed 
 the day with thanksgiving to God for thus enabling 
 those who fear his name to build up each other in faith 
 and love. 
 
 Of old time, " they that feared the Lord spake often 
 one to another ; and the Lord hearkened and heard it, 
 'and a book of remembrance was written before him, for 
 them that feared the Lord and that thought upon his 
 name." 
 
 That book of remembrance is not yet closed. 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 89 
 
 PAET III. 
 
 The mind of man is like a moving picture, supplied 
 with objects, not only from contemplation on things 
 present, but from the fruitful sources of recollection and 
 anticipation. 
 
 Memory retraces past events, and restores an ideal 
 reality to scenes which are gone by for ever. They live 
 again in revived imagery, and we seem to hear and see 
 with renewed emotions what we heard and saw at a 
 former period. Successions of such recollected circum- 
 stances often form a series of welcome memorials. In 
 religious meditation the memory becomes a sanctified 
 instrument of spiritual improvement. 
 
 Another part of this animated picture is furnished by 
 the pencil of Hope. She draws encouraging prospects 
 for the soul by connecting the past and present with the 
 future. Seeing the promises afar off, she is persuaded 
 of their truth, and embraces them as her own. 
 
 The Spirit of God gives a blessing to both these acts 
 of the mind, and employs them in the service of religion. 
 Every faculty of body and soul, when considered as a 
 part of "the purchased possession" of the Saviour, 
 assumes a new character. How powerfully does the 
 Apostle, on this ground, urge a plea for holy activity 
 and watchfulness : " What ! know ye not that your body 
 is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which 
 ye have of God ; and ye are not your own ? For ye are 
 bought with a price : therefore glorify God in your body 
 and in your spirit, which are God's." 
 
 The Christian may derive much profit and enjoyment 
 from the use of the memory as it concerns those transac- 
 tions in which he once bore a part. In his endeavours 
 to recall past conversations and intercourse with deceased 
 
40 THE daikyman's daughtee. 
 
 friends in particular, the powers of remembrance greatly 
 improve by exercise. One revived idea produces another 
 till the mind is most agreeably and usefully occupied 
 with lively and holy imaginations. 
 
 " Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain, 
 Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain j 
 Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise I 
 Each stamps its image as the other flies ; 
 Each, as the varied avenues of sense 
 Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense, 
 Brightens or fades : yet all, with sacred art, 
 Control the latent fibres of the heart." 
 
 May it please God to bldss, both to the reader and the 
 writer, this feeble attempt to recollect some of the com- 
 munications which I once enjoyed in my visits to the 
 Dairyman's dwelling ! 
 
 Yery soon after the receipt of the last letter, I rode for 
 the first time to see the family at their own home. The 
 principal part of the road lay through retired, narrow 
 lanes, beautifully over-arched with groves of nut and 
 other trees, which screened the traveller from the rays 
 of the sun, and afforded many interesting objects for 
 admiration in the flowers, shrubs and young trees, which 
 grew upon the high banks on each side of the road. 
 Many grotesque rocks, with little trickling streams of 
 water occasionally breaking out of them, varied the 
 recluse scenery, and produced a romantic and pleasing 
 effect. 
 
 Here and there the more distant prospect beyond was 
 observable through gaps and hollow places on the road- 
 side. Lofty hills, with navy signal-posts, obelisks, and 
 light-houses on their summits, appeared at these inter- 
 vals : rich corn-fields were also visible through some of 
 the open places; and now and then, when the road 
 ascended a hill, the sea, with ships at various distances, 
 was seen. But for the most part shady seclusion, and 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 41 
 
 objects of a more minute and confined nature, gave a 
 character to tlie journey, and invited contemplation. 
 
 How much do they lose who are strangers to seriT)us 
 meditation on the wonders and beauties of nature ! How 
 gloriously the God of creation shines in his works ! Kot 
 a tree, or leaf, or flower ; not a bird or insect, but it pro- 
 claims in glowing language, " God made me." 
 
 As I approached the village where the good old 
 Dairyman dwelt, I observed him in a little field, driving 
 his cows before him towards a yard and hovel which 
 adjoined his cottage. I advanced very near him without 
 his observing me, for his sight was dim. On my calling 
 out to him, he started at the sound of my voice, but with 
 much gladness of heart welcomed me, saying — ^' Bless 
 your heart. Sir, I am very glad you are come : we have 
 looked for you every day this week." 
 
 The cottage-door opened, and the daughter came out, 
 followed by her aged and infirm mother. The sight of 
 me naturally brought to recollection the grave at which 
 we had before met. Tears of affection mingled with the 
 smile of satisfaction with which I was received by these 
 worthy cottagers. I dismounted, and waa; conducted 
 through a neat little garden, part of which was shaded 
 by two large overspreading elm-trees, to the house. 
 Decency and order were manifest within and without. 
 No excuse was made here, on the score of poverty, for 
 confusion and uncleanliness in the disposal of their little 
 household. Every thing wore the aspect of neatness and 
 propriety. On each side of the fire-place stood an old 
 oaken arm-chair, where the venerable parents rested 
 their weary limbs after the day's labour was over. On a 
 shelf in one corner lay two Bibles, with a few religious 
 books and tracts. The little room had two windows; a 
 lovely prospect of hills, woods, and fields, appeared 
 through one ; the other was more than half obscured by 
 the branches of a vine which was trained across it; 
 
42 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 between its leaves the sun shone; and cast a cheerful 
 light over the whole place. 
 
 ^'This/' thought I, '^is a fit residence for piety, peace, 
 and contentment. May I learn a fresh lesson for 
 advancement in each through the blessing of God on this 
 visit!" 
 
 "Sir," said the daughter, ''we are not worthy that 
 you should come under our roof. "We take it very kind 
 that you should travel so far to see us." 
 
 ''My Master," I replied, "came a great deal further to 
 visit us poor sinners. He left the bosom of his Father, 
 laid aside his glory, and came down to this lower world 
 on a visit of mercy and love ; and ought not we, if we 
 profess to follow him, to bear each other's infirmities, 
 and go about doing good as he did?" 
 
 The old man now entered, and joined his wife and 
 daughter in giving me a cordial welcome. Our conver- 
 sation soon turned to the loss they had so lately sustained. 
 The pious and sensible disposition of the daughter was 
 peculiarly manifested, as well in what she said to her 
 parents, as in what she more immediately" addressed to 
 myself. I had now a further opportunity of remarking 
 the good sense and agreeable manner which accompanied 
 her expressions of devotedness to God, and love to Christ 
 for the great mercies which he had bestowed upon her. 
 During her residence -in different gentlemen's families 
 where she had been in service, she had acquired a 
 superior behaviour and address ; but sincere piety ren- 
 dered her very humble and unassuming in manner and 
 conversation. She seemed anxious to improve the oppor- 
 tunity of my visit to the best purpose for her own and 
 her parents' sake; yet there was nothing of unbecoming 
 forwardness, no self-consequence or conceitedness in her 
 conduct. She united the firmness and solicitude of the 
 Christian Avith the modesty of the female and the dutiful- 
 •less of the daughter. It was impossible to be in her 
 
THE DAIEY man's DAUGHTEE. 43 
 
 company and not observe how truly her temper and 
 conversation adorned the principles which she professed. 
 
 I soon discovered how eager and how successful also 
 she had been in her endeavours to bring her father and 
 mother to the knowledge and experience of the truth. 
 This is a lovely feature in the character of a young 
 Christian. If it have pleased God in the free dispensa- 
 tions of his mercy to call the child by his grace, while 
 the -parent remains still in ignorance and sin, how great 
 is the duty incumbent on that child to do what is possible 
 to promote the conversion of those to whom so much is 
 owing! Happy is it when the ties of grace sanctify 
 those of nature I 
 
 The aged conple evidently regarded and spoke of this 
 daughter as their teacher and admonisher in divine 
 things, while at the same time they received from her 
 every token of filial submission and obedience, testified 
 by continual endeavours to serve and assist them to the 
 utmost of her power in the daily concerns of the house- 
 hold. 
 
 The religion of this young woman was of a highly 
 spiritual character, and of no ordinary attainment. Her 
 views of the divine plan in saving the sinner, were clear 
 and scriptural. She spoke much of the joys and sorrows 
 which, in the course of her religious progress, she had 
 experienced : but she was fully sensible that there is far 
 more in real religion than mere occasional transition 
 from one frame of mind and spirits to another. She 
 believed that the experimental acquaintance of the heart 
 with God principally consisted in so living upon Christ 
 by faith, as to aim at living like him by love. She knew 
 that the love of God toward the sinner, and the path of 
 duty prescribed to the sinner, are both of an unchange- 
 able nature. In a believing dependence on the one, and 
 an affectionate walk in the other, she sought and found 
 
44 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 "the peace of Grod wliicli passeth all -understanding;" 
 "for so lie giveth his beloved rest." 
 
 She had read but few books besides her Bible ; but 
 these few were excellent in their kind, and she spoke of 
 their contents as one who knew their value. In addition 
 to a Bible and Prayer-book, "Doddridge's Eise and 
 Progress," "Eomaine's Life, Walk, and Triumph of 
 F^th," "Bunyan's Pilgrim," "Alleine's Alarm," "Bax- 
 ter's Saint's Everlasting Best," a hymn-book, and a few 
 tracts, composed her library. 
 
 I observed in her countenance a pale and delicate hue, 
 which I afterwards found to be a presage of consump- 
 tion ; and the idea then occurred to me that she would 
 not live very long. 
 
 Time passed on swiftly with this interesting family ; 
 and after having partaken of some plain and wholesome 
 refreshment, and enjoyed a few hours' conversation with 
 them, I found it was necessary for me to return home- 
 wards. The disposition and character of the parties may 
 be in some sort ascertained by the expressions used at 
 parting. 
 
 "God send you safe home again," said the aged 
 mother, " and bless the day that brought you to see two 
 poor old creatures, such as we are, in our trouble and 
 affliction. Come again, Sir, come again, when you can ; 
 and though I am a poor ignorant soul, and not fit to talk 
 to such a gentleman as you, yet my dear child shall 
 speak for me; she is the greatest comfort I have left, 
 and I hope the good Lord will spare her to support my 
 trembling limbs and feeble spirits, till I lie down with 
 my other dear departed children in the grave." 
 
 " Trust to the Lord," I answered, " and remember his 
 gracious promise ; ' Even to your old age I am he ; and 
 even to hoary hairs I will carry you.' " 
 
 "I thank you. Sir," said the daughter, ^for your 
 Christian kindness to me and my friends. I believe the 
 
THE daieyman's daughtek. 45 
 
 blessing of the Lord has attended your visit, and I hope 
 that I have experienced it *o be so. My dear father and 
 mother will, I am sure, remember it ; and I rejoice in the 
 opportunity of seeing so kind a friend under this roof. 
 My Saviour has been abundantly good to me in plucking 
 me ' as a brand from the burning/ and showing me the 
 way of life and peace : and I hope it is my heart's desire 
 to live to his glory. But I long to see these dear friends 
 enjoy the power and comfort of religion likewise." 
 
 "I think it evident;" I replied, "that the promise is 
 fulfilled in their case; 'It shall come to pass, that at 
 evening time it shall be light.' " 
 
 "I believe it," she said, "and praise God for the 
 blessed hope." 
 
 "Thank him too, that you have been the happy 
 instrument of bringing them to the -light." 
 
 "I do, Sir ; yet, when I think of my own un worthi- 
 ness and insufficiency, I rejoice with trembling." 
 
 "Sir," said the good old man, ''I am sure the Lord 
 will reward you for this kindness. Pray for us, old as 
 we are, sinners as we have been, that yet he would have 
 mercy upon us at the eleventh hour. Poor Betsy strives 
 much for our sakes, both in body and soul ; she works 
 hard all day to save us trouble, and I fear has not strength 
 to support all she does ; and then she talks to us, and 
 reads to us, and prays for us, that we may be saved from 
 the wrath to come. Indeed, Sir, she's a rare child to us." 
 
 " Peace be to you and to all that belong to you !" 
 
 "Amen, and thank you, dear Sir," was echoed from 
 each tongue. 
 
 Thus we parted for that time. My returning medita- 
 tions were sweet, and, I hope, profitable. 
 
 Many other visits were afterwards made by me to this 
 peaceful cottage, and I always found increasing reason 
 to thank God for the intercourse I there enjoyed. 
 
 An interval of some length o'ccurred once during that 
 
46 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 year, in whicli I had not seen the Dairyman's family. I 
 was reminded of the circumstance by the receipt of the 
 following letter. 
 
 ^'Eev. Sir, 
 
 '' I have been expecting to see or hear from 
 you for a considerable time. Excuse the liberty I take 
 in sending you another letter. I have been confined to 
 
 the house the greater part of the time since I left . 
 
 I took cold that day, and have been worse ever since. I 
 walk out a little on these fine days, but seem to myself 
 to walk very near on the borders of eternity. Griory be 
 to God, it is a very pleasing prospect before me. Though. 
 I feel the workings of sin, and am abased, yet Jesus 
 shows his mercy to be mine, and I trust that I am his. 
 At such times, 
 
 ' My soul would leave this heavy clay 
 
 At his transporting word, 
 Run up with joy the shining way 
 To meet and prove the Lord. 
 
 Fearless of hell and ghastly death, 
 
 I'd break through every foe ; 
 The wings of love and arms of faith 
 
 Would bear me conqu'ror through.' 
 
 My desire is to live every moment to God, that I may, 
 through his grace, be kept in that heavenly, happy frame 
 of mind, that I shall wish for at the hour of death. We 
 cannot live nor die happy without this ; and to keep it, 
 we must be continually watching and praying. For we 
 have many enemies to disturb our peace. I am so very 
 weak, that now I can go no where to any outward means 
 for that help which is so refreshing to my spirit. 
 
 " I should have been very happy to have heard you last 
 
 Sunday, when you preached at : I could not walk 
 
 so far. I hope the word spoken by you was made a 
 
THE DAIKY man's DAUGHTEK. 47 
 
 blessing to many that , heard it. It was my earnest 
 prayer to God that it might be so. But, alas! once 
 calling does not awaken many that are in a sound sleep. 
 Yet the voice of God is sometimes very powerful, when 
 his ministers speak; when they are influenced by his 
 Holy Spirit, and are simple and sincere in holding forth 
 the Word of Life. Then it will teach us all things, and 
 enlighten our mind, and reveal unto us the hidden things 
 of darkness, and give us out of that divine treasure 
 'things new and old.' Eesting on God to work in us 
 both to will and to do of his own good pleasure, we 
 ought always to work as diligent servants, that know 
 they have a good Master, that will surely not forget 
 their labour of love. 
 
 " If we could but fix our eyes always on that crown 
 of glory that awaits us in the skies, we should never 
 grow weary in well-doing ; but should run with patience 
 and delight in the work and ways of God, where he 
 appoints us. We should not then, as we too frequently 
 do, suffer these trifling objects here on earth to draw 
 away our minds from God, to rob him of his glory, and 
 our souls of that happiness and comfort which the 
 believer may enjoy amidst outward afilictions. If we 
 thus lived more by faith in the Son of God, we should 
 endeavour to stir up all whom we could, to seek after 
 God. We should tell them what he has done for us, and 
 what he would do for them, if they truly sought him. 
 We should show them what a glorious expectation there 
 is for all true believers and sincere seekers. 
 
 " When our minds are so fixed on God, we are more 
 desirous of glorifying him, in making known his good- 
 ness to us, than the proud rich man is of getting honour 
 to himself. I mourn over my own backwardness to this 
 exercise of duty, when I think of God's willingness to 
 save the vilest of the vile, according to the dispensations 
 of his eternal grace and mercy.* O ! how amiable, how 
 
48 THE DAIKYMAN'S DAUGHTER.- 
 
 lovely does this make that God of love appear to poor 
 sinners, that can view him as such. How is the sonl 
 delighted with such a contemplation ! They that have 
 much forgiven, how much they love ! 
 
 " These thoughts have been much on my mind since 
 
 the death of . I trust the Lord will pardon me for 
 
 my neglect. I thought it was my duty to speak or write 
 to him : you remember what I said to you respecting it. 
 But I still delayed till a more convenient season. 1 
 how I was struck when I heard the Lord had taken him 
 so suddenly. I was filled with sorrow and shame for 
 having neglected what I had so often resolved to do. 
 But now the time of speaking for God to him was over. 
 Hence we see that the Lord's time is the best time. Now 
 the night of death was come upon him ; no more work 
 was to be done. If I had done all that lay in my power 
 to proclaim reconciliation by Christ to his soul, whether 
 he had heard or no, I should have been clear of his blood. 
 But I cannot recall the time that is past, nor him from 
 the grave. Had I known the Lord would have called 
 him so suddenly, how diligent I should have been to 
 warn him of his danger I But it is enough that God 
 shows us what we are to do, and not what he is about to 
 do with u^ or any of his creatures. Pray, Sir, do all you 
 can for the glory of God. The time will soon pass by, 
 and then we shall enter that glorious rest that he hath 
 prepared for them that love him. I pray God to fill you 
 with that zeal and love, which he only can inspire, that 
 you may daily win souls to Christ. May he deliver you 
 from all slavish fear of man, and give you boldness, as 
 he did of old those that were filled with the Holy Ghost 
 and with power ! 
 
 '' Eemember, Christ hath promised to be with all his 
 faithful ministers to the end of time. The greater dangers 
 and difficulties they are exposed to, the more powerful 
 his assistance. Then, Sir, let us fear none but him. I 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 49 
 
 hope you will pray mucli for me a poor sinner, that God 
 will perfect his strength in my weakness of body and 
 mind. For without him I can do nothing. But when I 
 can experience the teaching of that Holy One, I need no 
 other teacher. May the Lord anoint you with the same, 
 and give you every grace of his Holy Spirit, that you 
 may be filled with all the fulness of God ; that you may 
 know what is the height and depth, the length and 
 breadth of the love of God in Christ Jesus : that you may 
 be in the hand of the Lord, as a keen archer to draw the 
 bow, while the Lord directs and fastens the arrows of 
 conviction in the hearts of such as are under your 
 ministry ! 
 
 " I sincerely pray that you may be made a blessing to 
 him that has taken the place of the deceased. I have 
 heard that you are fellow-countrymen : I hope you are, 
 however, both as strangers in this world, that have no 
 abiding place, but seek a country out of sight. 
 "Pray excuse all faults, from 
 
 your humble servant in the 
 
 bonds of the Gospel of Christ, 
 
 'E W ." 
 
 When I perused this and other letters, which were at 
 different times written to me by the Dairyman's daughter, 
 I felt that, in the person of this interesting correspondent, 
 were singularly tmited the characters of an humble dis- 
 ciple and a faithful monitor. I wished to acknowledge 
 the goodness of God in each of these her capacities. 
 
 I sometimes entertain a hope that the last day will 
 unfold the value of these epistolary communications, 
 beyond even any present estimate of their spiritual 
 importance. 
 
50 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 PART lY. 
 
 The translation of sinners, "from the power of dark- 
 ness into the kingdom of God's dear Son," is the joy of 
 Christianstand the admiration of angels. Every penitent 
 and pardoned soul is a new witness to the triumphs of 
 the Redeemer over sin, death, and the grave. How great 
 the change that is wrought ! The child of wrath becomes 
 a monument of grace — a brand plucked from the burn- 
 ing ! " If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature : 
 old things are passed away ; behold, all things are become 
 new." How marvellous, how interesting, is the spiritual 
 history of each individual believer I He is, like David, 
 " a wonder unto many ; " but the greatest wonder of all 
 to himself. Others may doubt whether it be so, or not ; 
 but to him it is unequivocally proved, that, from first to 
 last, grace alone reigns in the work of his salvation. 
 
 The character and privileges of real Christians are 
 beautifully described in the language of our church ; who, 
 when speaking of the objects of divine favour and com- 
 passion, says : " They that be endued with so excellent a 
 benefit of God, be called according to God's purpose in 
 due season : they through grace obey the calling : they 
 be justified freely: they be made sons of G-od by adop- 
 tion : they be made like the image of his only begotten 
 Son, Jesus Christ : they walk religiously in good works ; 
 and at length by God's mercy they attain to everlasting 
 felicity." 
 
 Such a conception and display of the Almighty wis- 
 dom, power, and love, is indeed ''full of sweet, pleasant, 
 and unspeakable comfort to godly persons, and such as 
 feel in themselves the working of the Spirit of Christ 
 mortifying the works of the flesh, and their earthly 
 members ; and drawing up their minds to high and 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTEE. 61 
 
 heavenly things : it doth greatly establish and conhrm 
 their faith of eternal salvation, to be enjoyed through 
 Christ, and doth fervently kindle their love towards 
 God." 
 
 Nearly allied to the consolations of a good hope 
 through grace, as it respects our own personal state 
 before God, is that of seeing its evidences shed lustre over 
 the disposition and conduct of others. Bright was the 
 exhibition of the union between true Christian enjoyment 
 and Christian exertion, in the character whose moral and 
 spiritual features I am attempting to delineate. 
 
 It seemed to be the first wish of her heart to prove to 
 others, what God had already proved to her, that Jesus 
 is '' the way, and the truth, and the life." She desired 
 to evince the reality of her calling, justification, and 
 adoption into the family of God, by showing a conformity 
 to the image of Christ, and by walking ''religiously in 
 good works : " she trusted, that, in this path of faith and 
 obedience, she should ''at length, by God's mercy, attain 
 to everlasting felicity." 
 
 I had the spiritual charge of another parish, adjoining 
 to that in which I resided. It was a small district, and 
 had but few inhabitants. The church was pleasantly 
 situated on a rising bank, at the foot of a considerable 
 hill. It was surrounded by trees, and had a rural, 
 retired appearance. Close to the church -yard stood a 
 large old mansion, which had formerly been the residence 
 of an opulent and titled family ; but it had long since 
 been appropriated to the use of the estate as a farm- 
 house. Its outward aspect bore considerable remains of 
 ancient grandeur, and gave a pleasing character to the 
 spot of ground on which the church stood. 
 
 In every direction the roads that led to this house of 
 God possessed distinct but interesting features. One of 
 them ascended between several rural cottages, from the 
 sea-shore, which adjoined the lower part of the village 
 
52 THE dairyman's D AUG II tee. 
 
 street. Another winded round the curved sides of the 
 adjacent hill, and was adorned both above and below 
 with numerous sheep, feeding on the herbage of the 
 down. A third road led to the church by a gently rising 
 approach, between high banks, covered with young trees, 
 bushes, ivy, hedge-plants, and wild flowers. 
 
 From a point of land which commanded a view of all 
 these several avenues, I used sometimes for a while to 
 watch my congregation gradually assembling together at 
 the hour of Sabbath worship. They were in some direc- 
 tions visible for a considerable distance. Gratifying 
 associations of thought would form in my mind, as I 
 contemplated their approach, and successive arrival 
 within the precincts of the house of prayer. 
 
 Gne day, as I was thus occupied, during a short inter- 
 val previous to the joys of divine service, I reflected on 
 the hour which David experienced, at the time he ex- 
 claimed: *'I was glad, when they said unto me. Let us 
 go into the house of the Lord. Our feet shall stand 
 within thy gates, Jerusalem. Jerusalem is builded as 
 a city that is compact together ; whither the tribes go 
 up, the tribes of the Lord, unto the testimony of Israel, 
 to give thanks unto the name of the Lord." 
 
 I was led to reflect upon the various blessings con- 
 nected with the establishment of public worship. '' How 
 many immortal souls are now gathering together to 
 perform the all-important work of prayer and praise — 
 to hear the word of God — to feed upon the bread of life I 
 They are leaving their respective dwellings, and will 
 soon be united together in the house of prayer. How 
 beautifully does this represent the effect produced by the 
 voice of 'the Good Shepherd,' calling the sheep from 
 every part of the wilderness into his fold! As these 
 fields, hills, and lanes, are now covered with men, 
 women, and children, in various directions, drawing 
 nearer to each other, and to the object of their journey's 
 
THE dairyman's daugiitee. 53 
 
 end : even so, many ' shall come from the east, and from 
 the west, and from the north, and from the south, and 
 shall sit down in the kingdom of God.' " 
 
 Who can rightly appreciate the value of such hours 
 as these? — hours spent in learning the ways of holy 
 pleasantness and the paths of heavenly peace — hours 
 devoted to the service of God and of souls ; in warning 
 the sinner to flee from the wrath to come ; in teaching 
 the ignorant how to live and die ; in preaching the gospel 
 to the poor ; in healing the broken-hearted ; in declaring 
 " deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to 
 the blind." — " Blessed is the people that know the joyful 
 sound: they shall walk, O Lord, in the light of thy 
 countenance. In thy name shall they rejoice all the day, 
 and in thy righteousness shall they be exalted." 
 
 My thoughts then pursued a train of reflection on the 
 importance of the ministerial office, as connected in the 
 purposes of God with the salvation of sinners. I inwardly 
 prayed that those many individuals whom he had given 
 me to instruct, might not, through my neglect or error, 
 be as sheep having no shepherd, nor as the blind led by 
 the blind : but rather that I might, in season, and out of 
 season, faithfully proclaim the simple and undisguised 
 truths of the gospel, to the glory of God and the pros- 
 perity of his church. 
 
 At that instant, near the bottom of the enclosed lane 
 which led to the churchyard, I observed a friend, whom, 
 at such a distance from his own home, I little expected 
 to meet. It was the venerable dairyman. He came up 
 the ascent, leaning with one hand on his trusty staff, and ' 
 with the other on the arm of a younger man, well known 
 to me, who appeared to be much gratified in meeting 
 with such a companion by the way. 
 
 My station was on the top of one of the banks which 
 formed the hollow road beneath. They passed a few 
 yards below me. I was concealed from their sight by a 
 
54: THE 
 
 projecting tree. They were talking of the mercies of 
 God, and the unsearchable riches of his grace. The 
 dairyman was telling his companion what a blessing the 
 Lord had given him in his daughter. His countenance 
 brightened as he named her and called her his precious 
 Betsy. 
 
 I met them at a stile not many yards beyond, and 
 accompanied them to the church, which was hard by. 
 
 "Sir," said the old man, '^ I have brought a letter from 
 my daughter — I hope I am in time for divine service. 
 Seven miles is now become a long walk for me : I grow 
 old and weak — I am very glad to see you. Sir." 
 
 "How is your daughter?" 
 
 " Yery poorly indeed. Sir : very poorly. — The doctors 
 say it is a decline. I sometimes hope she will get the 
 better of it; but then again I have many fears. You 
 know. Sir, that I have cause to love and prize her. O I 
 it would be such a trial ; but the Lord knows what is 
 best. Excuse my weakness. Sir." 
 
 He put a letter into my hand, the perusal of which I 
 reserved till afterwards, as the time was nigh for going 
 into church. 
 
 The presence of this aged pilgrim, the peculiar reve- 
 rence and affection with which he joined in the different 
 parts of the service, excited many gratifying thoughts in 
 my mind; such as rather furthered than interrupted 
 devotion. 
 
 The train of reflection in which I had been engaged, 
 when I first discovered him in the road, at intervals 
 recurred powerfully to my feelings, as I viewed that 
 very congregation assembled together in the house of 
 God, whose steps, in their approaches towards it I had 
 watched with prayerful emotions. 
 
 "Here the rich and poor meet together in mutual 
 acknowledgment, that the Lord is the Maker of them all ; 
 and that all are alike dependent creatures, looking up to 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 55 
 
 one common Father to supply their wants, both temporal 
 and spiritual. 
 
 '' Again, likewise will they meet together m the grave, 
 that undistinguishing receptacle of the opulent and the 
 needy. 
 
 " And once more, at the judgment:seat of Christ shall 
 the rich and the poor meet together, that ^ every one 
 may receive the things done in his body, according to 
 that he hath done, whether it be good or bad.' 
 
 ''How closely connected in the history of man are 
 these three periods of a general meeting together ! 
 
 "The house of prayer — the house appointed for all 
 living — and the house not made with hands eternal in 
 the heavens. May we never separate these ideas from 
 each other, but retain them in a sacred and profitable 
 union ! So shall our worshipping assemblies on earth 
 be representative of the general assembly and church of 
 the first-born, which are written in heaven." 
 
 When the congregation dispersed, I entered into dis- 
 course with the Dairy mar and a few ot the poor of my 
 flock, whose minds were of like disposition fo his own. 
 He seldom could speak long together without some 
 reference to his dear child. He loved to tell how merci- 
 ful his God had been to him, in the dutiful and affec- 
 tionate attentions, of his daughter. All real Christians 
 feel a tender spiritual attachment toward those who have 
 been the instrument of bringing them to an aflfectual 
 knowledge of the way of salvation: but when that 
 instrument is one so nearly allied, how dear does the 
 relationship become ! 
 
 If my friend the dairyman was in any danger of falling 
 into idolatry, his child would have been the idol of his 
 affections. She was the prop and stay of her parents' 
 declining years ; and they scarcely knew how sufficiently 
 to testify the gratitude of their hearts, for the comfort 
 and blessing which she was the means of affording them. 
 
56 THE dairyman's daughtee. 
 
 While lie was relating several particulars of his family 
 history to the others, I opened and read the following letter. 
 
 '• Sir, 
 
 ''Once more I take the liberty to trouble you 
 with a few lines. I received your letter with great 
 pleasure, and thank you for it. I am now so weak, that 
 I am unable to walk to any public place of divine wor- 
 ship, a privilege which has heretofore always so much 
 strengthened and refreshed me. I used to go in anxious 
 expectation to meet my God, and hold sweet communion, 
 with him, and I was seldom disappointed. In the means 
 of grace, all the channels of divine mercy are open to 
 every heart that is lifted up to receive out of that divine 
 fulness grace for grace. These are the times of refreshing 
 from the presence of the Lord. How have I rejoiced to 
 hear a faithful and lively messenger, just come, as it 
 were from communion with God at the throne of grace, 
 with his heart warmed and filled with divine love, to 
 speak to fallen sinners ! Such an one has seemed to me 
 as if his fa^e shone as that of Moses did with the glory 
 of God, when he came down from the mount ; where he 
 had been within the vail. May you. Sir, imitate him, 
 as he did Christ, that all may see and know that the 
 Lord dwelleth with you, and that you dwell in him 
 through the unity of the blessed Spirit. I trust you are 
 no stranger to his divine teaching, aid, and assistance, in 
 all you set your hand to do for the glory of God. 
 
 "I hope, Sir, the sincerity of my wishes for your 
 spiritual welfare will plead an excuse for the freedom of 
 my address to you. I pray the giver of every perfect 
 gift, that you may experience the mighty workings of 
 his gracious Spirit in your heart and your ministry, and 
 rest your all on the justifying and purifying blood of an 
 expiring Eedeemer. Then will you triumph in his 
 strength, and be enabled to say with the poet : — 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 57 
 
 ' Shall I through fear of feeble men 
 The Spirit's course strive to restrain ? 
 Or, undismay'd in deed and word, 
 Be a true witness for my Lord ? 
 
 *Aw'd by a mortal's frown, shall I 
 ConceaUhe Word of God most high ? 
 How then before thee shall I dare 
 To stand, or how thine anger bear ? 
 
 ' Shall I, to soothe th' unholy throng, 
 Soften thy truths, and smooth my tongue, 
 To gain earth's gilded toys, or flee 
 The cross endur'd, my God, by thee ? 
 
 * What then is he, whose scorn I dread, 
 Whose wrath or hate makes me afraid ? 
 A man! an 'heir of death! a slave 
 
 To sin, a bubble on the wave ? 
 
 * Yea, let men rage, since thou wilt spread 
 Thy shadowing wings around my head : 
 Since in all pain thy tender love 
 
 Will still my sure refreshment prove. 
 
 * Still shall the love of Christ constrain 
 To seek the wand'ring souls of men, 
 With cries, entreaties, tears to save, 
 
 And snatch them from the yawning grave. 
 
 ' For this let men revile my name, 
 No cross I shun, I fear no shame : 
 All hail reproach, and welcome pain. 
 Only thy terrors, Lord, restrain.' 
 
 " I trust, Sir, that you see wliat a glorious higli calling 
 yours is, and that you are one of those who walk humbly 
 with God, that you may be taught of him in all things. 
 Persons in your place are messengers of the most high 
 God. It is too much to say, they should live like the 
 angels in all holiness, and be filled with love and zeal 
 for men's souls? They are ambassadors, in Christ's 
 stead, to persuade sinners to be reconciled to God. So 
 
58 THE DAIKY man's DAUGHTEB. 
 
 that your calling is above that of angels : for tliey are 
 afterward to minister to the heirs of salvation ; but the 
 sinner must be first reconciled to God. And you are 
 called upon from day to day to intercede with man, as 
 his friend, that you may win souls to Christ. Christ is 
 ascended up on high, to intercede with his Father for 
 guilty sinners, and to plead for them the merits of his 
 death. So that Christ and his faithful ministers, through 
 the operation of the blessed Spirit, are co-workers 
 together. Yet without him we can do nothing; our 
 strength is his strength, and his is all the glory from 
 first to last. 
 
 "It is my heart's prayer and desire. Sir, that you 
 may, by a living faith, cleave close to that blessed, 
 exalted Lamb of God, who died to redeem us from sin — 
 that you may have a sweet communion with Father, 
 Son, and Spirit — that you may sink deep in humble 
 love, and rise high in the life of God. Thus will you 
 have such discoveries of the beauties of Christ and his 
 eternal glory, as will fill your heart with true delight. 
 
 "If I am not deceived, I wish myself to enjoy his 
 gracious favour, more than all the treasures which earth 
 can afford. I would in comparison look upon them with 
 holy disdain, and as not worth an anxious thought, that 
 they may not have power on my heart, to draw or attract 
 it from God, who is worthy of my highest esteem, and 
 of all my affections. It should be our endeavour to set 
 him alway before us, that in all things we may act as in 
 his immediate presence : that we may be filled with that 
 holy fear, so that we -may not dare wilfully to sin against 
 him. "We should earnestly entreat the Lord to mortify 
 the power and workings of sin and unbelief within us, 
 by making Christ appear more and more precious in our 
 eyes, and more dear to our hearts. 
 
 " It fills my heart with thankful recollections, while I 
 attempt in this weak manner to speak of God's love to 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 59 
 
 man. When I reflect on my past sins and Ms past 
 mercies, I am assured, that if I had all the gifts of wise 
 men and angels, I could never sufficiently describe my 
 own inward sense of his undeserved love towards me. 
 We can better enjoy these glorious apprehensions in our 
 hearts, than explain them to others. But, 1 how 
 ■unworthy of them all are we ! Consciousness of my own 
 corruptions keeps me ofteu low ; yet faith and desire will 
 eagerly mount on high, beseeching God that he would, 
 according to the Apostle's prayer, fill me with all his 
 communicable fulness, in the gifts and graces of his 
 Spirit ; that I may walk well-pleasing before him, in all 
 holy conversation, perfecting holiness in his fear. 
 
 " If I err in boldness. Sir, pray pardon me, and in 
 your next letter confirm my hope, that you will be my 
 counsellor and guide. 
 
 "I can only recompense your kindness to me by my 
 prayers, that your own intercourse with God may be 
 abundantly blessed to you and yours. I consider the 
 Saviour saying to you, as he did to Peter, ' Lovest thou 
 me ? ' And may you by heartfelt experience be com- 
 pelled to reply, 'Thou knowest all things, and thou 
 knowest that I love thee ' supremely. May he have 
 evident marks of it in all your outward actions of love 
 and humanity, in feeding his flock, and in the inward 
 fervour and affection of all your consecrated powers: 
 that you may be zealously engaged in pulling down the 
 strong holds of sin and Satan, and building up his church ; 
 sowing the seeds of righteousness, and praying God to 
 give the increase — that you may not labour for him in 
 vain ; but may see the trees bud and blossom, and bring 
 forth fruit abundantly, to the praise and glory of your 
 heavenly Master. In order to give you encouragement 
 he says, whosoever ' converteth a sinner from the error 
 of his way, shall save a soul from death : ' and that will 
 
60 THE DAIEYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 increase the brightness of your crown in glory. This 
 hath Christ merited for his faithful ministers. 
 
 '' I hope, Sir, you will receive grace to be sincere in 
 reproving sin, wherever you see it. You will find divine 
 assistance, and all fear and shame taken from you. Great 
 peace will be given to you, and wisdom, strength, and 
 courage, according to your work. You will be as Paul ; 
 having much learning, you can speak to men in all 
 stations in life, by God's assistance. The fear of offend- 
 ing them will never prevent you, when you consider the 
 glory of God ; and man's immortal soul is of more value, 
 than his present favour and esteem. In particular, you 
 are in an office wherein you can visit all the sick. Man's 
 extremity is often God's opportunity. In this way you 
 may prove an instrument in his hand to do his work. 
 Although he can work without means, yet his usual way 
 is by means : and I trust you are a chosen vessel unto 
 him, to prove his name and declare his truth to all men. 
 
 '' Visiting the sick is a strict command, and a duty for 
 every Christian. None can tell what good may be done. 
 I wish it was never neglected, as it too often is. Many 
 think, that if they attend in the church, the minister to 
 preach, and the people to hear, their duty is done. But 
 more is required than this. May the Lord stir up the 
 gift that is in his people and ministers, that they may 
 have compassion on their fellow-sinners, that they may 
 never think it too late, but remember, that, while there 
 is life, there is hope ! 
 
 ''Once more, I pray. Sir, pardon and excuse all my 
 errors in judgment, and the ignorance that this is penned 
 in ; and may God bless you in all things, and particularly 
 your friendship to me and my parents ! What a comfort 
 is family religion! I do not doubt, but this is your 
 desire, as it is mine to say, 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTEE. 61 
 
 ' I and my house will serve the Lord, 
 But first obedient to his word 
 
 I must myself appear : 
 By actions, words, and tempers show, 
 That I my heavenly Master know. 
 
 And serve with heart sincere. 
 
 * I must the fair example set. 
 
 From those that on my pleasure wait 
 
 The stumbling block remove ; 
 Their duty by my life explain, 
 And still in all my works maintain 
 
 The dignity of love. 
 
 * Easy to be entreated, mild, 
 Quickly appeased and reconciled, 
 
 A follower of my God : 
 A saint indeed I long to be, 
 And lead my faithful family 
 
 In the celestial road. 
 
 * Lord, if thou dost the wish infuse, 
 A vessel fitted for thy use 
 
 Into thy hands receive : 
 Work in me both to will and do, 
 And show them how believers true 
 
 And real Christians live. 
 
 * With all-sufficient grace supply. 
 And then I'll come to testify 
 
 The wonders of thy name. 
 Which saves from sin, the world, and hell ; 
 Its power may every sinner feel, 
 
 And every tongue proclaim I 
 
 ' Cleans'd by the blood of Christ from sin, 
 I seek my relatives to win. 
 
 And preach their sins forgiven ; 
 Children, and wife, and servants seize. 
 And through the paths of pleasantness. 
 
 Conduct them all to heaven.' 
 
62 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 ''Living so mucli in a solitary way, books are my 
 companions; and poetry whicli speaks of the love of 
 God and the mercies of Christ, is very sweet to my mind. 
 This must be my excuse for troubling you to read verses 
 which others have written. I have intended, if my 
 
 declining state of health permit, to go to for a few 
 
 days. I say this, lest you should call in expectation of 
 seeing me, during any part of next week. But my dear 
 father and mother, for whose precious souls I am very 
 anxious, will reap the benefit of your visit at all events. 
 From 
 
 " Your humble and unworthy servant, 
 
 ''E W ." 
 
 Having read it, I said to the father of my highly 
 valued correspondent, 
 
 ''I thank you for being the .bearer of this letter: your 
 daughter is a kind friend and faithful counsellor to me, 
 as well as to you. Tell her how highly I esteem her 
 friendship, and that I feel truly obliged for the many 
 excellent sentiments which she has here expressed. Give 
 her my blessing, and assure her that the oftener she 
 writes, the more thankful I shall be." 
 
 The Dairyman's enlivened eye gleamed with pleasure 
 as I spoke. The praise of his Elizabeth was a string 
 which could not be touched without causing every nerve 
 of his whole frame to vibrate. 
 
 His voice half faltered, as he spoke in reply ; the tear 
 started in his eyes ; his hand trembled as I pressed it ; 
 his heart was full ; he could only say, 
 
 " Sir, a poor old man thanks you for your kindness to 
 him and his family ; God bless you, Sir ; I hope we shall 
 soon see you again." 
 
 Thus we parted for that day. 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER 63 
 
 PAET Y. 
 
 It has not nnfrequently been observed, tbat when it 
 is the Lord's pleasure to remove any of his faithful 
 followers out of this life at an early period of their 
 course, they make rapid progress in the experience of 
 divine truth. The fruits of the Spirit ripen fast, as they 
 advance to the close of mortal existence. In particular, 
 they grow in humility, through a deeper sense of inward 
 corruption, and a clearer view of the perfect character 
 of the Saviour. Disease and bodily weakness make the 
 thoughts of eternity recur with frequency and power. 
 The great question of their own personal salvation, the 
 quality of their faith, the sincerity of their love, and the 
 purity of their hope, is in Continual exercise. 
 
 Unseen realities, at such a time, occupy a larger por- 
 tion of thought than before. The state of existence 
 beyond the grave, the invisible world, the unalterable 
 character of the dead, the future judgment, the total 
 separation from every thing earthly, the dissolution of 
 body and spirit, and their reunion at the solemn hour 
 of resurrection — these are subjects for their meditation, 
 which call for serious earnestness of soul. Whatever 
 consolations from the Spirit of God they may have 
 enjoyed heretofore, they become now doubly anxious to 
 examine and prove themselves, '* whether they be indeed 
 in the faith." In doing this they sometimes pass through 
 hidden conflicts of a dark and distressing nature: from 
 which, however, they come forth, like gold tried in the 
 furnace. Awhile they may sow in tears, but soon they 
 reap in joy. 
 
 Their religious feelings have then, perhaps, less of 
 ecstacy, but more of serenity. 
 
 As the ears of corn ripen for the harvest, they bow 
 
64 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 their heads nearer to the ground. So it is with believers ; 
 they then see more than ever of their own imperfections, 
 and often express their sense of it in strong language : 
 yet they repose with a growing confidence on the love 
 of God through Christ Jesus. The nearer they advance 
 to their eternal rest, the more humble they become, but 
 not the less useful in their sphere. They feel anxiously 
 desirous of improving every talent they possess, to the 
 glory of God, knowing that the time is short. 
 
 I thought I observed the truth of these remarks ful- 
 filled in the progressive state of mind of the Dairyman's 
 daughter. 
 
 Declining health seemed to indicate the will of God 
 concerning her. But her character, conduct, and expe- 
 rience of the divine favour, increased in brightness as 
 the setting sun of her mortal life approached its horizon. 
 The last letter which, with th* exception of a very short 
 note, 1 ever received from her, I shall now transcribe. 
 It appeared to me to bear the marks of a still deeper 
 acquaintance with the workings of her own heart, and a 
 more entire reliance upon the free mercy of God. 
 
 The original, while I copy it, strongly revives the 
 image of the deceased, and the many profitable conversa- 
 tions which I once enjoyed in her company, and that of 
 her parents. It again endears to me the recollections 
 of cottage piety, and helps me to anticipate the joys of 
 that day, when the spirits of the glorified saints shall be 
 reunited to their bodies, and be for ever with the Lord. 
 
 The writer of this and the preceding letters herself 
 little imagined, when they were penned, that they would 
 ever be submitted to the public eye : that they now are 
 so, results from a conviction that the friends of the pious 
 poor will estimate them according to their value ; and a 
 hope that it may please God to honour these memorials 
 of the dead, to the effectual edification of the living. 
 
THE DAIKY man's DAUGHTER. 65 
 
 ''Key. SiE, 
 
 '' In consequence of your kind permission, I 
 take tke liberty to trouble you with another of my ill- 
 written letters ; and I trust you have too much of your 
 blessed Master's lowly, meek, and humble mind, to be 
 offended with a poor, simple, ignorant creature, whose 
 intentions are pure and sincere in writing. My desire 
 is, that I, a weak vessel of his grace, may glorify his 
 name for his goodness towards me. May the Lord direct 
 me by his counsel and wisdom. May he overshadow me 
 with his presence ; that I may sit beneath the banner of 
 his love, and find the consolations of his blessed Spirit 
 sweet and refreshing to my soul ! 
 
 ^'When I feel that I am nothing, and God is all in all, 
 then I can willingly fly to him, saying, ' Lord, help me ; 
 be unto me my Prophet, Priest, and King. Let me 
 know the teaching of thy grace, and the disclosing of thy 
 love.' What nearness of access might we have if we 
 lived more near to God! What sweet communion might 
 we have with a God of love ! He is the great I AM. 
 How glorious a name I Angels with trembling awe 
 prostrate themselves before him, and in humble love 
 adore and worship him. One says, 
 
 ^ While the first archangel sings, 
 He hides his face behind his wings.' • 
 
 Unworthy as I am, I have found it by expenence, that 
 the more I see of the greatness and goodness of God, and 
 the nearer union I hope I have had with him through 
 the Spirit of his love, the more humble and self- abased I 
 have been. 
 
 "But every day I may say, 'Lord, how little I love 
 thee, how far I live from thee, how little I am like thee 
 in humility I ' It is nevertheless my heart's desire to 
 love and serve him better. I find the way in which 
 God does more particularly bless me, is when I attend 
 
 6* 
 
66 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 on the public ordinances of religion.. These are the 
 channels through which he conveys* the riches of his 
 grace and precious love to my soul. These I have often 
 found to be indeed the time of refreshing and strength- 
 ening from the presence of the Lord. Then I can see 
 my hope of an interest in the covenant of his love, and 
 praise him for his mercy to the greatest of sinners. 
 
 ''I earnestly wish to be more established in his ways, 
 and to honour him in the path of duty, whilst I enjoy 
 the smiles of his favour. In the midst of all outward 
 afflictions I pray that I may know Christ and the power 
 of his resurrection within my soul. If I were always 
 thus, my summer would last all the year; my will would 
 then be sweetly lost in God's will, and I should feel a 
 resignation to every dispensation of his providence and 
 his grace, saying, ' Good is the will of the Lord : Infinite 
 Wisdom cannot err.' Then would patience have its 
 perfect work. 
 
 '' But, alas ! sin and unbelief often, too often, interrupt 
 these frames, and lay me low before God in tears of 
 sorrow. I often think what a happiness it would be, if 
 his love were so fixed in my heart, that I might willingly 
 obey him with alacrity and delight, and gradually mortify 
 the power of self-will, passion, and pride. This can only 
 arise from a good hope through grace, that we are washed 
 in that precious blood which cleanses .us from every 
 sinful staift, and makes us new creatures in Christ. O 
 that we may be the happy witnesses of the saving power 
 and virtue of that healing stream which flows from the 
 fountain of everlasting love ! 
 
 " Sir, my faith is often exceedingly weak : can you be 
 so kind as to tell me, what you have found to be the 
 most effectual means of strengthening it ? I often think 
 how plainly the Lord declares. Believe only, and thou 
 shalt be saved. Only have faith ; all things are possible 
 to him that has it. How I wish that we could remove 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 67 
 
 all those mountains tliat hinder and obstruct the light 
 of his grace; so that, having full access unto God 
 through that ever-blessed SjDirit, we might lovingly com- 
 mune with him as with the dearest of friends. "What 
 favour doth God bestow on worms ! And yet we love 
 to murmur and complain. Pie may well say, What 
 should I have done more, that I have not done ? or 
 wherein have I proved unfaithful or unkind to my faith- 
 less backsliding children ? 
 
 " Sir, I pray that I may not grieve him, as I have 
 done, any more. I want your counsel and your prayers 
 for me in this matter. How refreshing is the sight of 
 one that truly loves God, that bears his image and 
 likeness 1 
 
 " But delightful as is conversation with true believers 
 on earth, whose hearts are lifted up to things above, yet 
 what is this to that happy day which will admit us into 
 more bright realms ; where we shall for ever behold a 
 God of love in the smiling face of his Son who is the 
 express image of his Father and the brightness of his 
 glory ? Then, if found in him, we shall be received by 
 the innumerable hosts of angels who wait around his 
 throne. 
 
 " In the mean time. Sir, may I take up my cross, and 
 manfully fight under Him, who for the glory that was 
 set before him, endured the cross, despised the shame, 
 and is now set down at his Father's right hand in majesty ! 
 I thank you for the kind liberty you have given me of 
 writing to you. I feel my health declining, and I find a 
 relief during an hour of pain and weakness in communi- 
 eating these thoughts to you. 
 
 " I hope. Sir, you go on your way rejoicing ; that you 
 are enabled to thank Him who is the Giver of every 
 good gift, spiritual, temporal, and providential, for bless- 
 ings to yourself and your ministry. I do not doubt but 
 you often meet with circumstances which are not pleasing 
 
^S THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 to nature, yet, by the blessing of God, tbey will be all 
 prdfitable in the end. They are kindly designed by 
 grace to make and keep us humble. The difficulties which 
 you spoke of to me some time since will, I trust, disappear. 
 
 " My dear father and mother are as well as usual in 
 bodily health, and I hope grow in grace, and in the . 
 knowledge and love of Jesus Christ. My chief desire to 
 live is for their sakes. It now seems long since we have 
 seen you. I am almost ashamed to request you to come 
 to our little cottage to visit those who are so much below 
 your station in life. But if you cannot come, we shall 
 be very glad if you will write a few lines. I ought to 
 make an excuse for my letter, I spell so badly : this was 
 a great neglect when I was young. I gave myself greatly 
 to reading but not to the other, and now I am too weak 
 and feeble to learn much. 
 
 " I hear sometimes of persons growing serious in your 
 congregation. It gives me joy, and if true, I am sure it 
 does so to yourself I long for the pure gospel of Christ 
 to be preached in every church in the world, and for the 
 time when all shall know, love, and fear the Lord; and 
 the uniting Spirit of God shall make them of one heart 
 and mind in Christ our great Head. Your greatest joy 
 I know will be in labouring much for the glory of God 
 in the salvation of men's souls. You serve a good 
 Master. You have a sure reward. I pray God to give 
 you strength according to your day. 
 
 "Pray, Sir, do not be offended at the freedom and 
 manner of my writing. My parents' duty and love to 
 you are sent with these lines, from 
 
 " Your humble servant in Christ, 
 
 "E W ." 
 
 Epistolary communications, when written in sincerity 
 of heart, afford genuine portraits of the mind. May the 
 foregoing be viewed with Christian candour, and conse- 
 crated to affectionate memory ! 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 69 
 
 PAET YI 
 
 Travellers, as they pass througli the country, iisiially 
 stop to inquire whose are the splendid mansions which 
 they discover among the woods and plains around them. 
 The families, titles, fortune, or character of the respec- 
 tive owners, engage much attention. Perhaps their 
 houses are exhibited to the admiring stranger. The 
 elegant rooms, costly furniture, valuable paintings, beau- 
 tiful gardens and shrubberies, are universally approved ; 
 while the rank, fashion, taste, and riches of the possessor, 
 afford ample materials for entertaining discussion. In 
 the mean time, the lowly cottage of the poor husbandman 
 is passed by as scarcely deserving of notice. Yet per- 
 chance such a cottage may often contain a treasure of 
 infinitely more value than the sumptuous palace of the 
 rich man*, even 'Hhe pearl of great price." If this be 
 set in the heart of the poor cottager, it proves a gem of 
 unspeakable Avorth, and will shine among the brightest 
 ornaments of the Redeemer's crown, in that day when 
 he maketh up his "jewels." 
 
 Hence, the Christian traveller, while in common with 
 others he bestows his due share of applause on the deco- 
 rations of the rich, and is not insensible to the beauties 
 and magnificence which are the lawfully allowed append- 
 ages of rank and fortune, cannot overlook the humbler 
 dwelling of the poor. And if he should find that true 
 piety and grace beneath the thatched roof, which he has 
 in vain looked for amidst the worldly grandeur of the 
 rich, he remembers the declarations in the Word of God. 
 He sees with admiration, that " the high and lofty One, 
 that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy, who 
 dwelleth in the high and holy place, dwelleth with him 
 also that is of a contrite and humble spirit," (Isaiah, Ivii. 
 
70 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 15 ;) and althougli heaven is his throne, and the earth his 
 footstool; yet, when a house is to be built, and a place 
 of rest to be sought for himself, he says, " To this man 
 will I look, even to him that is poor, and of a contrite 
 spirit, and trembleth at my word." -^ Is. Ixii. 1, 2. 
 
 When a house is thus tenanted, faith beholds this 
 inscription written on the walls. The Lord lives here. 
 Faith therefore cannot pass it by unnoticed, but loves to 
 lift up the latch of the door, and to sit down and con- 
 verse with the poor although perhaps despised inhabitant. 
 Many a sweet interview does Faith obtain, when she 
 thus takes her walks abroad. Many such a sweet inter- 
 view have I myself enjoyed beneath the roof where dwelt 
 the Dairyman and his little family. 
 
 I soon perceived that his daughter's health was rapidly 
 on the decline. The pale wasting consumption, which 
 is the Lord's instrument for removing so many thousands 
 every year from the land of the living, made hasty strides 
 on her constitution. The hollow eye, the distressing 
 cough, and the often too flattering red on the cheek, fore- 
 told the approach of death. 
 
 What a field for usefulness and affectionate attention, 
 on the part of Ministers and Christian friends, is opened 
 by the frequent attacks, and lingering progress of con- 
 sumptwe illness ! How many such precious opportuni- 
 ties are daily lost, where Providence seems in so marked 
 a way to afford time and space for serious and godly 
 instruction ! Of how many may it be said, " The way 
 of peace have they not known ! " for not one friend ever 
 came nigh, to warn them to ''flee from the wrath to 
 come." 
 
 But the Dairyman's daughter was happily made 
 acquainted with the things which belonged to her ever- 
 lasting peace before the present disease had taken root 
 in her constitution.. In my visits to her, I went rather 
 to receive information than to impart it. Her mind was 
 
THE dairyman's daughtee. 71 
 
 abundantly stored witli divine truths, and her conversa- 
 tion was truly edifying. The recollection of it must ever 
 produce a thankful sensation in my heart. 
 
 I one day received a short note to the following effect: 
 
 '• Dear SiE; 
 
 ''I should be very glad, if your conve- 
 nience will allow, that you would come and see a poor 
 unworthy sinner : my hour-glass is nearly run out, but 
 I hope I can see Christ to be precious to my soul. Your 
 conversation has often been blessed to me, and I now 
 ■feel the need of it more than ever. My father and mother 
 send their duty to yon. 
 
 " From your obedient, 
 
 " And unworthy servant, 
 
 "E -W ." 
 
 I obeyed the summons that same afternoon. On my 
 arrival at the Dairyman's ^ cottage, his wife opened the 
 door. The tears streamed down her cheek, as she silently 
 shook her head. Her heart was full. She tried to speak, 
 but could not. I took her by the hand, and said, 
 
 " My good friend, all is right, and as the Lord of wis- 
 dom and mercy directs." 
 
 ''01 my Betsy, my dear girl, is so bad. Sir: what 
 shall I do without her? — I thought I should have gone 
 first to the grave, but ." 
 
 " But, the Lord sees good that before you die yourself, 
 you should behold your child safe home to glory. Is 
 there no mercy in this ? " 
 
 " O dear Sir ! I am very old and very weak ; and she 
 is a dear child, the stafi' and prop of a poor old creature, 
 as I am." 
 
 As I advanced, I saw Elizabeth sitting by the fire-side, 
 supported in an arm-chair by pillows, Avith every mark 
 of rapid decline and approaching death A sweet smile 
 
72 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 of friendly complacency enliglitened her pale countenance; 
 as she said, 
 
 " This is very kind indeed. Sir, to come so soon after 
 I sent to yon. You find me daily wasting away, and I 
 cannot have long to continue here. My flesh and my 
 heart fail; but God is the strength of my weak heart, 
 and I trust will be my portion for ever." 
 
 The conversation was occasionally interrupted by her 
 cough and want of breath. Her tone of voice was clear, 
 though feeble ; her manner solemn and collected, and her 
 eye though more dim than formerly, by no means want- 
 ing in liveliness, as she spoke. I had frequently admired 
 the superior language in which she expressed her ideas, 
 as well as the scriptural consistency with which she 
 communicated her thoughts. She had a good natural 
 understanding; and grace, as is generally the case, had 
 much improved it. On the present occasion I could not 
 help thinking she was peculiarly favoured. The whole 
 strength of gracious and natural attainments seemed to 
 be in full exercise. 
 
 After taking my seat between the daughter and the 
 mother, (the latter fixing her fond eyes upon her child 
 with great anxiety while we were conversing,) I said to 
 Elizabeth, 
 
 " I hope you enjoy a sense of the Divine presence, and 
 can rest all upon him who has 'been with thee,' and has 
 kept Hhee in all places whither thou hast gone,' and will 
 bring thee into Hhe land of pure delights, where saints 
 immortal reign.' " 
 
 " Sir, I think I can. My mind has lately been some- 
 times clouded, but I believe it has been partly owing to 
 the great weakness and suffering of my bodily frame, 
 and partly to the envy of ray spiritual enemy, who wants 
 to persuade me that Christ has no love for me, and that 
 T have been a self-deceiver." 
 
 "And do you give way to his suggestions? Can you 
 
THE daieyman's daughtek. 73 
 
 doubt amidst sucli numerous tokens of past and present 
 mercy ? " 
 
 "1^0, Sir, I mostly am enabled to preserve a clear 
 evidence of his love. I do not wish to add to my other 
 sins that of denying his manifest goodness to my soul. I 
 would acknowledge it to his praise and glory." 
 
 " What is your present view of the state in which you 
 were, before you felt seriously concerned about the salva- 
 tion of your soul ? 
 
 ^'Sir, I was a proud, thoughtless girl, fond of dress 
 and finery ; I loved the world and the things that are in 
 the world ; I lived in service among worldly people, and 
 never had the happiness of being in a family where 
 worship was regarded, and the souls of the servants 
 cared for either by master or mistress. I went once on 
 a Sunday to church, more to see and be seen, than to 
 pray or hear the Word of God. I thought I was quite 
 good enough to be saved, and disliked and often laughed 
 at religious people. I was in great darkness ; I knew 
 nothing of the way of salvation; I never prayed, nor 
 was sensible of the awful danger of a prayerless state. I 
 wished to maintain the character of a good servant, and 
 was much lifted up whenever I met with applause. I 
 was tolerably moral and decent in my conduct, from 
 motives of carnal and worldly policy; but I was a 
 stranger to God and Christ ; I neglected my soul ; and 
 had I died in such a state, hell must, and would justly, 
 have been my portion." 
 
 " How long is it since you heard the sermon which 
 you hope, through God's blessing, effected your conver- 
 sion?" 
 
 " About five years ago." 
 
 " How was it brought about ? " 
 
 '' It was reported that a Mr. , who was detained 
 
 by contrary winds from embarking on board ship as 
 
 chaplain to a distant part of the world, was to preach at 
 
 7 
 
•74 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 • clmrcli. Many advised me not to go, for fear lie 
 
 should turn my head; as tliey said lie lield strange 
 notions. But curiosity, and an opportunity of appearing 
 in a new gown, whicli I was very proud of, induced me 
 to ask leave of my mistress to go. Indeed, Sir, I had no 
 better motives than vanity and curiosity. Yet thus it 
 pleased the Lord to order it for his own glory. 
 
 " I accordingly went to church, and saw a great crowd 
 of people collected together. I often think of the con- 
 trary states of my mind during the former and latter 
 part of the service. For a while, regardless of the 
 worship of God, I looked around me, and was anxious 
 to attract notice myself. My dress, like that of too many 
 gay, vain, and silly servant girls, was much above my 
 station, and very different from that which becomes an 
 humble sinner, who has a modest sense of propriety and 
 decency. The state of my mind was visible enough 
 from the foolish finery of my apparel. 
 
 " At length, the clergyman gave out his text : ' Be ye 
 clothed with humility.' He drew a comparison between 
 the clothing of the body with that of the soul. At a 
 very early part of his discourse, I began to feel ashamed 
 of my passion for fine dressing and apparel : but when 
 he came to describe the garment of salvation with which 
 a Christian is clothed, I felt a powerful discovery of the 
 nakedness of my own soul. I saw. that I had neither 
 the humility mentioned in the text, nor any one part of 
 the true Christian character. I looked at my gay dress, 
 and blushed for shame on account of my pride. I looked 
 at the minister, and he seemed to be as a messenger sent 
 from heaven to open my eyes. I looked at the congre- 
 gation, and wondered whether any one else felt as I did. 
 I looked at my heart, and it appeared full of iniquity. I 
 trembled as I spoke, and yet I felt a great drawing of 
 heart to the words he uttered. 
 
 •■' He opened the riches of divine grace in God's method 
 
THE dairyman's daughtee. 75 
 
 of saving the sinner. I was astonished at what I had 
 been doing all the days of my life. He described the 
 meek, lowly, and humble example of Christ; I felt proud, 
 lofty, vain, and self-consequential. He represented Christ 
 as ' Wisdom ; ' I felt my ignorance. He held him forth 
 as- ' Eighteousness ; ' I was convinced of my own guilt. 
 He proved him to be ' Sanctification ; ' I saw my corrup- 
 tion. He proclaimed him as 'Redemption;' I felt my 
 slavery to sin, and my captivity to Satan. He concluded 
 with an animated address to sinners, in which he ex- 
 horted them to flee from the wrath to come, to cast off 
 the love of outward ornaments, to put on Jesus Christ, 
 and be clothed with true humility. 
 
 " From that hour I never lost sight of the value of my 
 soul and the danger of a sinful state. I inwardly blessed 
 God for the sermon, although my mind was in a state of 
 great confusion. 
 
 " The preacher had brought forward the ruling passion 
 of my heart, which was pride in outward dress ; and by 
 the grace of God it was made instrumental to the awaken- 
 ing of my soul. Happy, Sir, would it be, if many a poor 
 girl, like myself, were turned from the love of outward 
 adorning and putting on of fine apparel, to seek that 
 which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek 
 and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great 
 price. 
 
 " The greater part of the congregation, unused to such 
 faithful and scriptural sermons, disliked and complained 
 of the severity of the preacher : while a few, as I after- 
 wards found, like myself, were deeply affected, and 
 earnestly wished to hear him again. But he preached 
 there no more. 
 
 " From that time I was led, through a course of private 
 prayer, reading, and meditation, to see my lost estate as 
 a sinner, and the great mercy of God through Jesus 
 Christ in raising sinful dust and ashes to a share in the 
 
76 THE dairyman's daughtee. 
 
 glorious happiness of heaven. And, O Sir! what a 
 Saviour I have found ! He is more than I could ask or 
 desire. In his fulness I have found all that my poverty 
 could need ; in his bosom I have found a resting-place 
 from all sin and sorrow ; in his word I have found 
 strength against doubt and unbelief." 
 
 " Were you not soon convinced," I said, " that your 
 salvation must be an act of entire grace on the part of 
 God, wholly independent of your own previous works 
 or deservings ? " 
 
 " Dear Sir, what were my works before I heard that 
 sermon, but evil, carnal, selfish, and ungodly? The 
 thoughts of my heart, from my youth upward, were only 
 evil and that continually. And my deservings, what 
 were they, but the deservings of a fallen, depraved, care- 
 less soul, that regarded neither law nor gospel? Yes, 
 Sir, I immediately saw that if ever I were saved, it must 
 be by the free mercy of God, and that the whole praise 
 and honour of the work would be his from first to last." 
 ''What change did you perceive in yourself with 
 respect to the world ? " 
 
 '' It appeared all vanity and vexation of spirit. I 
 found it necessary to my peace of mind to come out from 
 among them and be separate. I gave myself to prayer ; 
 and many a happy hour of secret delight I enjoyed in 
 communion with God. Often I mourned over my sins, 
 and sometimes had a great conflict through unbelief, 
 fear, temptation to return back again to my old ways, 
 and a variety of difficulties which lay in my way. But 
 He who loved me with an everlasting love, drew me by 
 his loving kindness, showed me the way of peace, 
 gradually strengthened me in my resohitions of leading 
 a new life, and taught me, that while without him I 
 could do nothing, I yet might do all things through his 
 strength." 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 77 
 
 '' Did yon not find many difficulties in your situation, 
 owing to your claange of principle and practice ? " 
 
 ' YeS; Sir, every day of my life. I was laughed at by 
 some, scolded at by others, scorned by enemies, and 
 pitied by friends. I was called hypocrite, saint, false 
 deceiver, and many more names which were meant to 
 render me hateful in the sight of the world. But I 
 esteemed the reproach of the cross an honour. I forgave 
 and prayed for my persecutors, and remembered how 
 very lately I had acted the same part towards others 
 myself. I thought also that Christ endured the contra- 
 diction of sinners ; and, as the disciple is not above the 
 Master, I was glad to be in any way conformed to his 
 sufferings." 
 
 '' Did you not then feel for your family at home ? " 
 
 '^ Yes, that I did indeed. Sir ; they were never out of 
 my thoughts. I prayed continually for them, and had a 
 longing desire to do them good. In particular I felt for 
 my father and mother, as they were getting into years, 
 and were very ignorant and dark in matters of religion." 
 ■ ^^Aye," interrupted her mother, sobbing, "ignorant 
 and dark, sinful and miserable we were, till this dear 
 Betsy — this dear Betsy — this dear child. Sir, brought 
 Christ Jesus home to her poor . father and mother's 
 house." 
 
 " No, dearest mother, say rather, Christ Jesus brought 
 your poor daughter home, to tell you what he had done 
 for her soul, and, I hope, to do the same for yours." 
 
 At this moment the Dairyman came in with two pails 
 of milk hanging from the yoke on his shoulders. He 
 had stood behind the half-opened door for a feAV minutes, 
 and heard the last sentences spoken by his wife and 
 daughter. 
 
 " Blessing and mercy upon her ! " said he, "it is very 
 true ; she left a good place of service on purpose to live 
 with us, that she might help us both in soul and body. 
 
78 THE DAI KY man's DAUGHTEE. 
 
 Sir, don't she look very ill? I think, Sir, we shan't 
 have her here long." 
 
 '^ Leave that to the Lord," said Elizabeth. ''All our 
 times are in his hand, and happy it is that they are. I 
 am willing to go ; are you not willing, my father, to 
 part with me into his hands, who gave me to you at 
 first?" 
 
 "Ask me any question in the world but that," said 
 the weeping father. 
 
 ''I know," said she, "you wish me to be happy." 
 
 "I do, I do," answered he: "let the Lord do with you 
 and us as best pleases him." 
 
 I then asked her, on what her present consolations 
 chiefly depended, in the prospect of approaching death. 
 
 "Entirely, Sir, on my view of Christ. When I look 
 at myself, many sins, infirmities, and imperfections cloud, 
 the image of Christ which I want to see in my own 
 heart. But when I look at the Saviour himself, he is 
 altogether lovely; there is not one spot in his counte- 
 nance, nor one cloud over all his perfections. 
 
 " I think of his coming in the flesh, and it reconciles 
 me to the sufferings of the body ; for he had them as 
 well as I. I think of his temptations, and believe that 
 he is able to succour _me when I am tempted. Then I 
 think of his cross, and learn to bear my own. I reflect 
 on his death, and long to die unto sin, so that it may no 
 longer have dominion over me. I sometimes think on 
 his resurrection, and trust that he has given me a part 
 in it, for I feel that my affections are set upon things 
 above. Chiefly I take comfort in thinking of him as at 
 the right hand of the Father, pleading my cause, and 
 rendering acceptable even my feeble prayers, both for 
 myself, and, as T hope, for my dear friends. 
 
 " These are the views which, through mercy, I have 
 of my Saviour's goodness ; and they have made me wish 
 and strive in my poor way to serve him, to give myself 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 79 
 
 tip to him, and to labour to do my duty in that state of 
 life into which it has pleased him to call me. 
 
 " A thousand times I should have fallen and fainted, 
 if he had not upheld me. I feel that I am nothing with- 
 out him. He is all in aM. 
 
 ''Just so far as I can cast my oiire upon him, I find 
 strength to do his will. May he give me grace to trust 
 him till the last moment ! I do not fear death, because 
 I believe that he has taken away its sting. And ! 
 what happiness beyond! — Tell me. Sir, whether you 
 think I am right. I hope I am under no delusion. I 
 dare not look for my hope in any thing short of the 
 entire fulness of Christ. When I ask my own heart a 
 question, I am afraid to trust it, for it is treacherous, 
 and has often deceived me. But when I ask Christ, he 
 answers me with promises that strengthen and refresh 
 me, and leave me no room to doubt his power and will 
 to save. I am in his hands, and would remain there ; 
 and I do believe that he will never leave nor forsake me, 
 but will perfect the thing that concerns me. He loved 
 me and gave himself for me, and I believe that his gifts 
 and callings are without repentance. In this hope I live, 
 in this hope I wish to die." 
 
 I looked around me, as she was speaking, and thought, ' 
 '' Surely this is none other than the house of God, and 
 the gate of heaven." Every thing appeared neat, cleanly, 
 and interesting. The afternoon had been rather overcast 
 with dark clouds; but just now the setting sun shone 
 brightly and somewhat suddenly into the room. It was 
 reflected from three or four rows of bright pewter plates 
 and white earthen-ware, arranged on shelves against the 
 wall ; it also gave brilliancy to a few prints of sacred 
 subjects that hung there also, and served for monitors of 
 the birth, baptism, crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ. 
 
 A large map of Jerusalem, and an hieroglyphic of 
 ''the old and new man," completed the decorations oa 
 
80 THE dairyman's DAUGHTEE. 
 
 that side of tlie room. Clean as was tlie wMte washed 
 wall, it was not cleaner than the rest of the place and its 
 furniture. Seldom had the sun enlightened a house, 
 where order and general neatness (those sure attendants 
 of pious poverty) were more conspicuous. 
 
 The gleam of settimg sunshine was emblematical of the 
 bright and serene close of this young Christian's depart- 
 ing season. One ray happened to be reflected from a 
 little looking-glass upon her face. Amidst her pallid 
 and decaying features there appeared a calm resignation, 
 triumphant confidence, unaffected humility, and tender 
 anxiety, which fully declared the feelings of her heart. 
 
 Some further affectionate conversation, and a short 
 prayer, closed this interview. 
 
 As I rode home by dejTarting daylight, a solemn tran- 
 quillity reigned throughout the scene. The gentle lowing 
 of cattle, the bleating of sheep just penned in their folds, 
 the humming of the insects of the night, the distant 
 murmurs of the sea, the last notes of the birds of day, 
 and the first warblings of the nightingale, broke upon 
 the ear, and served rather to increase than lessen the 
 peaceful serenity of the evening and its corresponding 
 effects on my own mind. It invited and cherished just 
 such meditations as my visit had already inspired. 
 Natural scenery, when viewed in a Christian mirror, 
 frequently affords very beautiful illustrations of divine 
 truths. We are highly favoured, when we can enjoy 
 them, and at the same time draw near to God in them. 
 
THE dairyman's daughter. 81 
 
 PAET YII. 
 
 • It is a pleasing consideration, that, amidst tlie spiritual 
 darkness which unhappily prevails in many parts of the 
 land, God nevertheless has a people. It not unfreqiiently 
 happens that single individuals are to be found, who, 
 though very disadvantageously situated with regard to 
 the ordinary means of grace, have received truly saving 
 impressions, and through a blessing on secret meditation, 
 reading, and prayer, are led to the closest communion 
 with God, and become eminently devoted Christians. It 
 is the no small error of too many professors of the 
 present day, to overlook or undervalue the instances of 
 this kind which exist. The religious profession and 
 opinions of some have too much of mere machinery in 
 their composition. If every wheel, pivot, chain, spring, 
 cog, or pinion, be not exactly in its place, or move not 
 precisely according to a favourite and prescribed system, 
 the whole is rejected as unworthy of regard. But 
 happily " the Lord knoweth them that are his ; " nor is 
 the impression of his own seal wanting to characterize 
 some, who, in comparative seclusion from, the religious 
 world, '^name the name of Christ, and depart from 
 iniquity." 
 
 There are some real Christians so peculiarly circum- 
 stanced in this respect, as to illustrate the Poet's beauti- 
 ful comparison, 
 
 " Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
 
 The dark unfathora'd caves of ocean bear ; 
 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 
 And waste its sweetness in the desert air." 
 
 Yet this was not altogether the case with the Dairy- 
 man's daughter. Her religion had indeed ripened in 
 seclusion from the world, and she was intimately known 
 
82 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 but to few ; but slie lived usefully, departed most bappily, 
 and left a shining track behind ber. While I attempt a 
 faint delineation of it, may I catch its influence, and 
 become, through inexpressible mercy, a follower of 
 '^them, who through faith and patience inherit the 
 promises ! " 
 
 From the time wherein I visited her, as described in 
 my last paper, I considered her end as fast approaching. 
 One day I received a hasty summons to inform me that 
 she was dying. It was brought by a soldier, whose 
 countenance bespoke seriousness, good sense, and piety. 
 
 '' I am sent. Sir, by the father and mother of Elizabeth 
 
 W , at her own particular request, to say, how much 
 
 they all wish to see you. She is going home, Sir, very 
 fast indeed." 
 
 " Have you known her long ? " I replied. 
 
 " About a month. Sir ; I love to visit the sick ; and 
 hearing of her case from a person who lives close by our 
 camp, I went to see her. I bless God that ever I did go. 
 Her conversation has been very profitable to me." 
 
 "I rejoice," said I, "to see in you, as I trust, a brother 
 soldier. Though we differ in our outward regimentals, I 
 hope we serve under the same spiritual Captain. I will 
 go with you." 
 
 My horse was soon ready. ^J military companion 
 walked by my side, and gratified me with very sensible 
 and pious conversation. He related some remarkable 
 testimonies of the excellent disposition of the Dairyman's 
 daughter, as they appeared from recent intercourse which 
 he had had with her. 
 
 " She is a bright diamond. Sir," said the soldier, " and 
 will soon shine brighter than any diamond upon earth." 
 
 We passed through lanes and fields, over hills and 
 valleys, by open and retired paths, sometimes crossing 
 over, and sometimes following the windings of a little 
 brook, which gently murmured by the road-side. Con- 
 
THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTEE. 83 
 
 versation beguiled the distance, and shortened the appa- 
 rent time of our journey, till we were nearly arrived at 
 the Dairyman's cottage. 
 
 As we approached it, we became silent. Thoughts of 
 death, eternity, and salvation, inspired by the sight of a 
 house where a dying believer lay, filled my own mind, 
 and, I doubt not, that of my companion also. 
 
 Ko living object yet appeared, except the Dairyman's 
 dog, keeping a kind of mute watch at the door ; for he 
 did not, as formerly, bark at my approach. He seemed 
 to partake so far of the feelings appropriate to the circum- 
 stances of the family, as not to wish to give a hasty or 
 painful alarm. He came forward to the little wicket- 
 gate, then looked back at the house-door, as if conscious 
 there was sorrow within. It was as if he wanted to say, 
 ''tread softly over the threshold, as you enter the house 
 of mourning ; for my master's heart is full of grief." 
 
 The soldier took my horse and tied it up in a shed. 
 A solemn serenity appeared to surround the whole place : 
 it was only interrupted by the breezes passing through 
 the large elm-trees, which stood near the house, and 
 which my imagination indulged itself in thinking were 
 plaintive sighs of sorrow. I gently opened the door ; no 
 one appeared, and all was still silent. The soldier fol- 
 lowed ; we came to the foot of the stairs. 
 
 '' They are come," said a voice, which 1 knew to be 
 the father's ; '' they are come." 
 
 He appeared at the top ; I gave him my hand and said 
 nothing. On entering the room above, I saw the aged 
 mother and her son supporting the much-loved daughter 
 and sister : the son's wife sat weeping in a window-seat, 
 with a child on her lap ; two or three persons attended 
 in the room to discharge any office which friendship or 
 necessity might require. 
 
 I sat down by the bed-side. The mother could not 
 weep, but now and then sighed deeply, as she alternately 
 
84: THE DAIKYMANS DAUGHTEB. 
 
 looked at Elizabetli and at me. The big tear rolled 
 dowD the brother's cheek, and testified an affectionate 
 regard. The good old man stood at the foot of the bed, 
 leaning upon the post, and unable to take his eyes off the 
 child from whom he was so soon to part. 
 
 Elizabeth's eyes were closed, and as yet she perceived 
 me not. But over the face, though pale, sunk, and 
 hollow, the peace of God, which passeth all understand- 
 ing, had cast a triumphant calm. 
 
 The soldier, after a short pause, silently reached out 
 his Bible, towards me, pointing with his finger at 1 Cor. 
 XV. 55, 56, 58. I then broke silence by reading the 
 passage, '' death, where is thy sting ? gTave, where 
 is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the 
 strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which 
 giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 At the sound of these words her eyes opened, and 
 something like a ray of divine light beamed on her coun- 
 tenance, as she said, " Victory, victory ! through our Lord 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 She relapsed again, taking no further notice of any 
 one present. 
 
 " God be praised for the triumph of faith ! " said I. 
 
 "Amen," replied the soldier. 
 
 The Dairyman's uplifted eye showed that the Amen 
 was in his heart, though his tongue failed to utter it. 
 
 A short struggling for breath took place in the dying 
 young woman, which was soon over ; and then I said to 
 her, 
 
 "My dear friend, do you not feel that you are sup- 
 ported?" 
 
 " The Lord deals very gently with me," she replied. 
 
 " Are not his promises now very precious to you ? " 
 
 " They are all yea and amen in Christ Jesus." 
 
 " Are you in much bodily pain ? " 
 
 "So little, that I almost forget it." 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. ^5 
 
 '■* How good tlie Lord is I " 
 
 " And how unwortliy am I ! " 
 
 " You are going to see Hm as lie is." 
 
 ''I think 1 hope 1 believe that I am." 
 
 She again fell into a short slumber. 
 
 Looking at her mother, I said, "What a mercy to 
 have a child so near heaven as yours is 1 " 
 
 "And what a mercy/' she replied, in broken accents, 
 " if her poor old mother might but follow her there ! 
 But, Sir, it is so hard to part ! " 
 
 " I hojip through grace by faith you will soon meet, to 
 part no more : it will be but a little while." 
 
 "Sir," said the Dairyman "that thought supports me, 
 and the Lord's goodness makes me feel more reconciled 
 than I was." 
 
 "Father mother" said the reviving daughter, 
 
 "he is good to me trust him, praise him evermore." 
 
 "Sir," added she in a faint voice, "I want to thank 
 you for your kindness to me-^^ — I want to ask a 
 
 favour; you buried my sister will you do the 
 
 same for me ? " 
 
 "All shall be as you wish, if God permit," I replied. 
 
 "Thank you. Sir, thank you; 1 have another 
 
 favour to ask When I am gone, remember my father 
 
 and mother. They are old, but I hope the good work is 
 
 begun in their souls My prayers are heard Pray, 
 
 come and see them 1 cannot speak much, but I want 
 
 to speak for their sakes Sir, remember them." — 
 
 The aged parents now sighed and sobbed aloud, utter- 
 ing broken sentences, and gained some relief by such an 
 expression of their feelings. 
 
 At length I said to Elizabeth, "Do you experience 
 any doubts or temptations on the subject of your eternal 
 safety?" 
 
 "No, Sir; the Lord deals very gently with me, and 
 gives me peace." 
 
86 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 What are your views of the dark valley of death, 
 now that you are passing through it ? " 
 ''It is 710^ dark." 
 ''Why so?" 
 
 " My Lord is there, and he is my light and my salva- 
 tion." 
 
 " Have you any fears of more bodily suffering.? " 
 " The Lord deals so gently with me ; I can tKist him." 
 Something of a convulsion came on. When it was 
 past, she said again and again, 
 
 " The Lord deals very gently with me. Lord, I am 
 
 thine, save me Blessed Jesus precious Saviour 
 
 His blood cleanseth from all sin Who shall 
 
 separate? His name is Wonderful Thanks be 
 
 to God He giveth us the victory 1, even I, am 
 
 saved grace, mercy, and wonder — Lord, receive 
 
 my spirit ! Dear Sir, dear father, mother, friends, 
 
 I am going but all is well, well, well-^ ." 
 
 She relapsed again — We knelt down to prayer — The 
 Lord was in the midst of us, and blessed us. 
 
 She did not again revive while I remained, nor ever 
 speak any more words which could be understood. She 
 slumbered for about ten hours, and at last sweetly fell 
 asleep in the arms of that Lord, who had dealt so gently 
 with her. 
 
 I left the house an hour after she had ceased to speak. 
 I pressed her hand as I was taking leave, and said, 
 " Christ is the resurrection and the life." She gently 
 returned the pressure, but could neither open her eyes, 
 nor utter a reply. 
 
 I never had witnessed a scene so impressive as this 
 before. It completely filled my imagination as I returned 
 home. 
 
 "Farewell," thought I, "dear friend, till the morning 
 of an eternal day shall renew our personal intercourse. 
 Thou wast a brand plucked from the burning, that thou 
 
THE DAIEY man's DAUGHTEE. 87 
 
 mig^htest become a star shining in the firmament of glory. 
 I have seen thy light and thy good works, and will there- 
 fore glorify our Father which is in heaven. I have seen, 
 in thy example, what it is to be a sinner freely saved by 
 grace. I have learned from thee, as in a living mirror, 
 who it is that begins, continues, and ends the work of 
 faith and love. Jesus is all in all : he will and shall be 
 glorified. He won the crown, and alone deserves to wear 
 it. May no one attempt to rob him of his glory ! He 
 saves, and saves to the uttermost. Farewell, dear sister 
 in the Lord. Thy flesh and thy heart may fail ; but God 
 is the strength of thy heart, and shall be thy portion for 
 
 PAET YIII. 
 
 "Who can conceive or estimate the nature of that 
 change which the soul of a believer must experience at 
 the moment when, quitting its tabernacle of clay, it sud- 
 denly enters into the presence of God ? If, even while 
 "we see through a glass darkly," the views of divine 
 love and wisdom are so delightful to the eye of faith ; 
 what must be the glorious vision of God, when seen face 
 to face ? If it be so valued a privilege here on earth to 
 enjoy the communion of saints, and to take sweet counsel 
 together with our fellow-travellers towards the heavenly 
 kingdom ; what shall we see and know when we finally 
 " come unto Mount Zion, and unto the city of the living 
 God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable 
 company of angels, to the general assembly and church 
 of the first-born which are written in heaven, and to God 
 the Judge of all, and to the spirits of ju«t men made 
 perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant? " 
 
 If, during the sighs and tears of a mortal pilgrimage, 
 
88 THE daikyman's daughter. 
 
 the consolations of the Spirit are so preciouS; and the 
 hope full of immortality is so animating to the soul; 
 what heart can conceive, or wliat tongue utter its superior 
 joys, when arrived at that state, where sighing and 
 sorrow flee away, and the tears shall be wiped from every 
 eye? 
 
 Such, ideas were powerfully associated together in my 
 imagination, as I travelled onward to the house, where, 
 in solemn preparation for the grave, lay the remains of 
 the Dairyman's daughter. 
 
 She had breathed her last shortly after the visit related 
 in my former account. Permission was obtained, as 
 before in the case of her sister, that I should perform the 
 funeral service. Many pleasing yet melancholy thoughts 
 were connected with the fulfilment of this task. I 
 retraced the numerous and important conversations 
 which I had held with her. But these could now no 
 longer be maintained on earth. I reflected on the inte- 
 resting and improving nature of Christian friendships, 
 whether formed in palaces or in cottages ; and felt thank- 
 ful that I had so long enjoyed that privilege with the 
 subject of this memorial. I then indulged a selfish sigh 
 for a moment, on thinking that I could no longer hear . 
 the great truths of Christianity uttered by one who had 
 drunk so deep of the waters of the river of life. But the 
 rising murmur was checked by the animating thought ; 
 ''She is gone to eternal rest — could I wish her back 
 again in this vale of tears ? " 
 
 At that moment, the first sound of a tolling bell struck 
 my ear. It proceeded from a village church in the 
 valley directly beneath the ridge of a high hill, over 
 which I had taken my way. — It was Elizabeth's funeral 
 knell. 
 
 The sound was solemn; and in ascending to the 
 elevated spot over which I rode, it acquired a peculiar 
 tone and character. Tolling at slow and regulated inter- 
 
THE D A I E Y M A N ' S D A UG II T E E. 89 
 
 "v i ,♦> (as was customary for a considerable time previous 
 to tk^e ho\ir of burial,) the bell; as it were, proclaimed 
 tbo blessedness of the dead who die in the Lord, and also 
 the necessity of the living pondering these things, and 
 laying them to heart. It seemed to say, "Hear my 
 warning voice, thou son of man. There is but a step 
 between thee and death. Arise, prepare thine house, for 
 thou shalt die, and not live." 
 
 The scenery was in unison with that tranquil frame 
 of mind which is most suitable for holy meditation. A 
 rich and fruitful valley lay immediately beneath ; it was 
 adorned with corn-fields and pastures, through which a 
 small river winded in a variety of directions, and many 
 herds grazed upon its banks. A fine range of opposite 
 hills, covered with grazing flocks, terminated with a 
 bold sweep into the ocean, whose blue waves appeared 
 at a distance beyond. Several villages, hamlets, and 
 churches, were scattered in the valley. The noble man- 
 sions of the rich,' and the lowly cottages of the poor 
 added their respective features to the landscape. The 
 air was mild and the declining sun occasioned a beautiful 
 interchange of light and shade upon the sides of the 
 hills. In the midst of this scene, the chief sound that 
 arrested attention was the bell tolling for the funeral of 
 the Dairyman's daughter. 
 
 Do any of my readers inquire why I describe so 
 
 minutely the circumstances of prospect scenery which 
 
 may be connected with the incidents I relate ? My reply 
 
 is, that the God of redemption is the God of creation 
 
 likewise ; and that we are taught in every part of the 
 
 Word of God to unite the admiration of the beauties and 
 
 wonders of nature to every other motive for devotion. 
 
 When "David considered the heavens, the work of God's 
 
 fingers, the moon and the stars, which he has ordained, 
 
 he was thereby led to the deepest humiliation of heart 
 
 before his Maker. And when he viewed the sheep and 
 
 8* 
 
90 THE D A I R Y M A N S D A U G II T E E. 
 
 the oxen and the beasts of the field, the fowl of the air 
 and the fish of the sea, he was constrained to cry out, 
 "0 Lord, our Lord! how excellent is thy name in all the 
 earth!" 
 
 I am the Poor Man's Eriend, and wish more especially 
 that every poor labouring man should know how to 
 connect the goodness of God in creation and providence 
 with the unsearchable riches of his grace in the salvation 
 of a sinner. And where can he learn this lesson more 
 instructively than in looking around the fields where his 
 labour is appointed, and there tracing the handy- work 
 of God in all that he beholds ? Such meditations have 
 often afforded me both profit and pleasure, and I wish 
 my readers to share them with me. 
 
 The Dairyman's cottage was rather more than a mile 
 distant from the church. A lano, quite overshaded with 
 trees and high hedges, led from the foot of the till to his 
 dwelling. It was impossible at that .time to overlook 
 the suitable gloom of such an approach to the house of 
 mourniog. 
 
 I found, on my entrance, that several Christian friends, 
 from different parts of the neighbourhood, had assembled 
 together, to pay their last tribute of esteem and regard 
 to the memory of the Dairyman's daughter. Several of 
 them had first become acquainted with her during the 
 latter stage of her' illness; some few had maintained an 
 affectionate intercourse with her for a longer period. 
 But all seemed anxious to manifest their respect for one 
 who was endeared to them by such striking testimonies 
 of true Christianity. 
 
 I was requested to go into the chamber where the 
 relatives and a few other friends were gone to take a last 
 look at the remains of Elizabeth. 
 
 It is not easy to describe the sensation which the mind 
 experiences on the first sight of a dead countenance, 
 which, when living, Avas loved and esteemed for the sake 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTEE. 91 
 
 of that soul whicli used to give it animation. A deep 
 and awful view of the separation that has taken place 
 between the soul and body of the deceased, since we last 
 beheld them, occupies the feelings ; our friend seems to 
 be both near, and yet far off. The most interesting and 
 valuable part is fled away; what remains is but the 
 earthly perishing habitation, no longer occupied by its 
 tenant. Yet the features present the accustomed associa- 
 tion of friendly intercourse. For one moment, we could 
 think them asleep. The next reminds us that the blood 
 circulates no more ; the eye has lost its power of seeing, 
 the ear of hearing, the heart of throbbing, and the limbs 
 of moving. Quickly, a thought of glory breaks in upon 
 the mind, and we imagine the dear departed soul to be 
 arrived at its long-wished-for rest. It is surrounded by 
 cherubim and seraphim, and sings the song of Moses and 
 the Lamb on Mount Zion. Amid the solemn stillness 
 of the chamber of death, imagination hears heavenly 
 hymns chanted by the spirits of just men made perfect. 
 In another moment, the livid lips and sunken eye of the 
 clay-cold corpse recall our thoughts to earth, and to our- 
 selves again. And while we think of mortality, sin, 
 death, and the grave, we feel the prayer rise in our 
 bosom, •' O let me die the death of the righteous, and let 
 my last end be like his ! " 
 
 If there be a moment when Christ and salvation, 
 death, judgment, heaven, and hell, appear more than 
 ever to be momentous subjects of meditation, it is that 
 which brings us to the side of a coffin containing the 
 body of a departed believer. 
 
 Elizabeth's features were altered, but much of her 
 likeness remained. Her father and mother sat at the 
 head, her brother at the foot of the coffin. The father 
 silently and alternately looked upon his dead child, and 
 then lifted up his eyes to heaven. A struggle for resig- 
 nation to the will of God was manifest in his counte- 
 
92 THE dairyman's daughter 
 
 nance ; while the tears rolling down his aged cheeks, at 
 the same time declared his grief and affection. The 
 poor mother cried and sobbed aloud, and appeared to be 
 much overcame, by the shock of separation from a 
 daughter so justly dear to her. The weakness and 
 infirmity of old age added a character to her sorrow, 
 which called for much tenderness and compassion. 
 
 A remarkably decent looking woman, who had the 
 management of the few simple though solemn ceremonies 
 which the case required, advanced towards me, saying, 
 
 " Sir, this is rather a sight of joy than of sorrow. 
 Our dear friend Elizabeth finds it to be so, I have no 
 doubt. She is beyond all sorrow : do you not think she 
 is, Sir?" 
 
 " After what I have known, and seen, and heard," 1 
 replied, ^'I feel the fullest assurance, that, while her 
 body remains here, her soul is with her Saviour in 
 Paradise. She loved him here, and there she enjoys the 
 pleasures which are at his right hand for evermore." 
 
 "Mercy, mercy upon a poor old creature almost 
 
 broken down with age and grief! — What shall I do?" 
 
 —Betsy's gone. My daughter's dead. — my child I I 
 
 shall never see thee more. — God be merciful to me a 
 
 sinner ! " sobbed out the poor mother. 
 
 "That last prayer, my dear good woman," said I, 
 " will bring you and your child together again. It is a 
 cry that has brought thousands to glory. It brought 
 your daughter there, and I hope it will bring you thither 
 likewise. God will in no wise cast out any that come 
 to him. 
 
 "My dear," said the Dairyman, breaking the long 
 silence he had maintained, " let us trust God with our 
 child ; and let us trust him with our own selves. The 
 Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away ; blessed be the 
 name of the Lord ! We are old, and can have but a 
 
THE dairyman's daughtee. 93 
 
 little farther to travel in our journey, and tlien " he 
 
 could say no more. 
 
 The soldier mentioned in my last paper, reached a 
 Bible into my hand, and said, ''Perhaps, Sir, you would not 
 object to reading a chapter before we go to the church ? " 
 
 I did so ; it was the fourteenth of the book of Job; A 
 sweet tranquillity prevailed while I read it. Each minute 
 that was spent in this funeral chamber seemed to be 
 valuable. I made a few observations on the chapter, 
 and connected them with the case of our departed sister. 
 
 " I am but a poor soldier," said our military friend, 
 ''and have nothing of this world's goods beyond my 
 daily subsistence; but I would not exchange my hope 
 of salvation in the next world, for all that this world 
 could bestow without it. What is wealth without grace ? 
 Blessed be God ! as I march about from one quarters to 
 another, I still find the Lord wherever I go ; and thanks 
 be to his holy name, he is here to-day in the midst of 
 this company of the living and the dead. I feel that it 
 is good to be here." 
 
 Some other persons present began to take a part m 
 our conversation, in the course of which the life and 
 experience of the Dairyman's daughter were brought 
 forward in a very interesting manner. Each friend had 
 something to relate in testimony of her gracious disposi- 
 tion. A young woman under twenty, who had hitherto 
 been a very light and trifling character, appeared to bo 
 remarkably impressed by the conversation of that day ; 
 and I have since had ground to believe that divine grace 
 then began to influence her in the choice of that better 
 part, which shall not be taken from her. 
 
 What a contrast does such a scene as this exhibit, 
 when compared with the dull, formal, unedifying, and 
 often indecent manner, in which funeral parties assemble 
 in the house of death ! 
 
 As we conversed, the parents revived. Our subject 
 
94: THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 of discourse was delig"htful to tlieir hearts. Their child 
 seemed almost to be alive again, while we talked of her. 
 Tearful smiles often brightened their countenances, as 
 they heard the voice of friendship uttering their daugh- 
 ter's praises; or rather the praises of Him, who had 
 mado her a .vessel of mercy, and an instrument of spiritual 
 good to her family. 
 
 The time for departing to the church was now at hand. 
 
 I went to take my last look at the deceased. 
 
 There was much written on her countenance. She 
 had evidently died with a smile. It still remained, and 
 spoke the tranquillity of her departed soul. According 
 to the custom of the country, she was decorated with 
 leaves and flowers in the coffin : she seemed as a bride 
 gone forth to meet the bridegroom. These indeed were 
 fading flowers, but they reminded me of that Paradise 
 where flowers are immortal, and where her never-dying 
 soul is at rest. 
 
 I remembered the last words which I had heard her 
 speak, and was instantly struck with the happy thought, 
 that ''death was indeed swallowed up in victory." 
 
 As I slowly retired, I said inwardly, '' Peace, my 
 honoured sister, be to_ thy memory and to my soul, till 
 we meet in a better world." 
 
 In a little time the procession formed : it was rendere*d 
 the more interesting by the consideration of so many 
 that followed the coffin being persons of a devoted and 
 spiritual character. The distance was rather more than 
 a mile. I resolved to continue with and go before them, 
 as they moved slowly onwards.^ 
 
 Immediately after the body came the venerable father 
 and mother,* bending with age, and weeping through 
 
 *The mother died not long after her daughter; and I have good reason to 
 believe, that God was merciful to her, and took her to himself. 
 
 An interesting account of a visit recently mado to the Dairyman's cottage, 
 appeared in the Christian Guardian, for Ootober 1813. — A still more recent 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 95 
 
 much afFectioa of heart. Their appearance was calculated 
 to excite every emotion of pity, love, and esteem. The 
 other relatives followed them in order, and the several 
 attendant friends took their places behind. 
 
 After we had advanced about a hundred yards, my 
 meditation was unexpectedly and most agreeably inter- 
 rupted by the friends who attended beginning to sing a 
 funeral psalm. Nothing could be more sweet or solemn. 
 The well known effect of the open air in softening and 
 blending the sounds of music, was here peculiarly felt. 
 The road through which we passed was beautiful and 
 romantic. It lay at the foot of a hill, which occasionally 
 re-echoed the voices of the singers, and seemed to give 
 faint replies to the notes of the mourners. The funeral 
 knell was distinctly heard from the church tower, and 
 greatly increased the effect which this simple and becom- 
 ing service produced. 
 
 We went by several cottages: a respectful attention 
 was universally observed as we passed : and tlie counte- 
 nances of many proclaimed their regard for the departed 
 young woman. The singing was regularly continued, 
 with occasional intervals of about five minutes during 
 our whole progress. 
 
 J cannot describe the state of my own mind as pecu- 
 liarly connected with this solemn singing. I was 
 reminded of elder times and ancient piety. I wished the 
 practice more frequent. It seems well calculated to 
 excite and cherish devotion and religious affections. 
 
 Music, when judiciously brought into the service of 
 religion^ is one of the most delightful, and not least 
 efficacious means of grace. I pretend not too minutely 
 to conjecture as to the actual nature of those pleasures 
 which, after the resurrection, the reunited body and soul 
 
 visit to the good old Dairyman (who stiU lives, at the age of 82) has been made 
 by the author of this narrative. (June 1814.) 
 
 The good old Dairyman died in 1816. — Ilis end was eminently Christian. 
 
96 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 will enjoy in heaven ; but I can hardly persuade myself 
 that melody and harmony will be wanting, when evea 
 the sense of hearing shall itself be glorified. 
 
 We at length arrived at the church. Looking upivards 
 as I drew near the porch, I observed a dial on the wall. 
 The sun's declining rays directed the shadow to the 
 evening hour. As I passed underneath this simple but 
 solemn monitor, I was reminded of the lapse of time, 
 the uncertainty of life, and sure approach of eternity. I 
 thought with David, " We are strangers before thee, and 
 sojourners, as were all our fathers ; our days on the earth 
 are as a shadow, and there is none abiding." " Lord, so 
 teach us to number our days, that we may apply our 
 hearts unto wisdom." 
 
 The service was heard with deep and affectionate 
 attention. When we came to the grave, the hymn which 
 Elizabeth had selected was sung. All was devout, 
 simple, ^^imating. We committed our dear sister's 
 body to the earth, in full hope of a joyful resurrection 
 from the dead. 
 
 Thus was the vail of separation drawn for a season. 
 She is departed and no more seen. But she ivill be seen 
 on the right hand of her Eedeemer at the last day ; and 
 will again appear to his glory, a miracle of grace and 
 monument of mercy. 
 
 My reader, rich or poor, shall you and I appear there 
 likewise? Are we ^'clothed with humility," and arrayed 
 in the wedding-garment of a Eedeemer's righteousness ? 
 Are we turned from idols to serve the living God ? Are 
 we sensible of our own emptiness, and therefore flying 
 to a Saviour's fulness to obtain grace and strength ? Do 
 we indeed live in Christ, and on him, and by him, and 
 with him ? Is he our all in all ? Are we " lost and 
 found? " " dead and alive again ?" 
 
 My ]poor reader, the Dairyman's daughter was a 2^oor 
 girl, and the child of a ^oor man. Herein thou resemblest 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 97 
 
 IiQr : but dost thou resemble her, as she resembled Christ ? 
 Art thou made rich by faith ? Hast thou a crown laid 
 up for thee ? Is thine heart set upon heavenly riches ? 
 If not, read this story once more, and then pray earnestly 
 for like precious faith. 
 
 But if, through grace, thou dost love and serve the 
 Bedeemer that saved the Dairyman's daughter, grace, 
 peace, and mercy be with thee! The lines are fallen 
 unto thee in pleasant places : thou hast a goodly heritage. 
 Press forward in duty, and wait upon the Lord, possess- 
 ing thy soul in holy patience. Thou hast just been with 
 me to the grave of a departed believer. Now " go thy 
 way, till the end be ; for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy 
 lot at the end of the days." 
 
 A TRIBUTE of affection has recently been paid to the 
 memory of the Dairyman's daughter, by raising a sub- 
 scription and putting up a grave-stone, on which tho 
 following verses are inscribed: 
 
 " Stranger ! if e'er by chance or feeling led, 
 Upon this hallowed turf thy footsteps tread, 
 Turn from the contemplation of the sod, 
 And think on her whose spirit rests with God. 
 Lowly her lot on earth, — but He, who bore 
 Tidings of grace and blessings to the poor 
 Gave her, his truth and faithfulness to prove, 
 The choicest treasures of his boundless love, — 
 (Faith, that dispell'd affliction's darkest gloom ; 
 Hope, that could cheer the passage to the tomb ; 
 Peace, that not Hell's dark legions could destroy; 
 And love, that fill'd the soul with heavenly joy.) 
 Death of its sling disarm'd, she knew no fear. 
 But tasted heaven e'en while she linger'd here. 
 Oh, happy saint! — may we like thee be blest: 
 In life be faithful, and in deatli find rest! " 
 
9« THE dairyman's DAUGHTEE. 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 The first two letters were addressed by the Dairyman's 
 daughter to her father. I of course omit those passages 
 which axe strictly personal and private. 
 
 TO MR. JOSEPH WALLBRIDGE. 
 
 Southampton, Feh. 23, 1797. 
 My dear and honoured father, 
 
 -X- * -x- * 
 
 And now, my dear father, I do not know 
 what to say to change the scene. I suppose you were a 
 little alarmed the other day, when the fleet of colliers 
 came in, and they were taken for French. It was reported 
 here that they were landed at several places ; and we 
 should have soon been over in the island for shelter from 
 them : as if by that means we could ''flee from the wrath 
 to come," or stay the hand of an Almighty and justly- 
 avenging God, who for the sins of mankind has sent his 
 judgments abroad in the earth. And even now we are 
 ready to say to that God who hath so long withheld the 
 sword of vengeance from destroying us, and still extends 
 his everlasting arms of mercy to save us — " Depart from 
 us" — for we desire not the knowledge of him. But I 
 hope, my dear father, that the Lord will have mercy on 
 us and bring us out of that gross darkness into his 
 marvellous light, and set our feet on a rock that is higher 
 that we are. But we are informed by the word of God, 
 
THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTEK. \)d 
 
 that if we would have all these blessings bestowed on ns, 
 we must fix all our hopes and our faith on the blessed 
 Lamb of God that was slain to redeem the fallen children 
 of Adam. For ^' as in Adam all died, so shall all " true 
 believers " in Christ be made alive " to God : and then, 
 my dear father, we may say, 
 
 "Prisoners of hope, lift up your heads 
 
 The day of liberty draws near ; 
 Jesus, who on the serpent treads. 
 
 Shall soon in your behalf appear : 
 The Lord will to his temple come, 
 Prepare your hearts to make him room. 
 
 My dear father, I hope that God will not suffer sick- 
 ness or death ever to surprise us unawares, or find us in 
 a state unprepared. 
 
 * ^ "X * 
 
 Please to give my duty to my dear and tender mother, 
 and accept the same yourself, and love to dear brothers 
 and sisters : and may the blessed Spirit of God be very 
 powerful in all your hearts to root out every evil. 
 
 LETTEE 11. 
 
 Souihamjpton, April 11, 1797. 
 My dear Father, 
 
 I have been silent longer than I should, had 
 my dear sister written before ; but, as I know all things 
 are guided and governed by Him whom my soul loveth, 
 I wait patiently his appointed time. O, my dear father, 
 it is good to trust in him, to call upon him, to honour 
 his holy name. O, if you have not tasted how good and 
 gracious the Lord is, then turn and seek him while he 
 may be found. None ever sought his glorious face in 
 vain; and those ''that come unto me (saith the dear 
 
100 THE DAIEY man's DAUGHTEK. 
 
 • Lamb of God) I will in no wise cast out." ISTo: his 
 tender love, pity, and compassion, never fail to poor 
 sinners. No: tliougli my dear mother and father have 
 lived to near the time that my God hath said shall be the 
 age of man ; and ye have still been sinning and grieving, 
 and hiding as it were your faces from that God who is 
 still pursuing you with his love and mercy, yea, even 
 the blessed Jesus, who is still making intercession for 
 sinners at his Father's right hand. And 
 
 " When justice bared the sword 
 
 To cut the fig-tree down, 
 The pity of my Lord 
 
 Cried, let it still alone : 
 The Father mild inclined his ear, 
 And spares us yet another year." 
 
 But remember, my dear friends, his blessed words: 
 "my Spirit shall not always strive with man;" and, 
 " except you are born again, ye cannot inherit the king- 
 dom of heaven ; " and if you are not washed in the 
 precious blood of that dear Lamb of God, you can have 
 no part with him ; and if his Spirit does not " bear wit- 
 ness with your spirit" that you are born of God, you 
 are still in your sins, and strangers to the blood that 
 bought you on the tree. Oh ! my daily prayer to God 
 is, that he will " turn you, and so shall you be turned." 
 Oh ! the dear Eedeemer still waits to be gracious ; he is 
 ever ready to pardon your sins, and seal it with his 
 precious blood ; he is ever calling, " Come unto me, all 
 ye that do labour and are heavy laden" with the burden 
 of your sins, " and I will give you rest." Then I entreat 
 you, my dear friends, in the name of the most high God, 
 that ye turn and lay hold of the ever-blessed Jesus as 
 your shield of faith, and he will arm you with the whole 
 armour of God. But remember this : though God is full 
 of love and mercy, yet he will be sought unto. Then 
 draw nigh unto God in secret prayer, and God will draw 
 
THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 101 
 
 nigh unto your precious souls, and that to bless them ; 
 and will say unto you, believe on me, '' my grace is 
 sufficient for you," I will cleanse you in my precious 
 blood : and then shall your leprosy be healed, and you 
 shall return without spot. And then you must watch 
 and pray to him continually to keep you clean. Oh ! he 
 is always more ready to hear than we are to pray, and 
 more ready to give than we to ask. Eemember, my dear 
 father, that the language of every prayerless and uncon- 
 verted soul is, " depart from me, O God ; " for we desire 
 not the knowledge of the Most High. Then put off the 
 evil day no longer, lest you should hear him say, who is 
 willing and able to &ave to the utmost those that come 
 unto him, " I have stretched out my hand all the day 
 long, and no man regarded." And ^' behold I knock at 
 the door of every man's heart, and to him that openeth 
 unto me I will come in, and sup with him, and he with 
 me. My dear father, these are blessed and comfortable 
 words ; and I am his living witness, and I " set to my 
 seal" that Jesus is true. the happy state of the 
 children of God ! Now I ask and receive : I seek and I 
 find him whom my soul loveth ; yea, I always find I 
 have a very near access, through his blessed intercession, 
 to supplicate the throne of grace ; and now I can say, 
 
 " Before the throne my surety stands, 
 My name is written on his hands ; " 
 
 and now I am so filled with the peace and love of God, 
 that I can lift up my soul and say, 
 
 " My God, I know, I feel thee mine, 
 
 And will not quit my claim, 
 Till all I have is lost in thine, 
 . And all renewed I am ;" 
 
 and 
 
 " Where'er I am, where'er I move, 
 I meet the object of my love." 
 
1(12 THE dairyman's D A U G H T E B. 
 
 The Lord doth so strengthen my faith in him, that 1 
 find all his promises stand engaged to make me blessed. 
 O may God pardon what his poor unworthy dust has 
 written through ignorance, which is not agreeable to his 
 most blessed will which I will ever seek to fulfil ! 
 
 •X- * « -Jf 
 
 I have so little taste for the conversation of this worlds 
 that it is very unpleasant to think on it. My sister's 
 love and duty to all. Mr. B. will be in the island soon, 
 please God, and then you are to write to her. Desire 
 my brother to write to and direct her to the house of 
 God in Bath, for she is still walking in darkness and is 
 ignorant of it. O may the Lord be graciously pleased 
 to bring you all into his marvellous light, that you may 
 praise him in time and eternity : then strive to enter in 
 at the strait gate. ... If the Lord shall please to 
 spare me, I hope to see you ere long; if not in this 
 world, in that where we shall bask in unutterable bliss. 
 My dear friends, take not this advice amiss from your 
 unworthy child ; it is the command of my blessed Lord, 
 "when thou art converted, remember thy brethren:" 
 and I daily take up my cross and follow him whitherso- 
 ever he goeth : and I pray God enable you to do the 
 same. how should I rejoice and praise my God to see 
 you enabled, through the inspiration of the Spirit of the 
 Most High, to answer this ill- written letter! — Farewell, 
 in the Lord, dear friends. 
 
 The third letter is to her sister. 
 
 LETTBE IIL 
 
 Gowes, October 14, 1798. 
 My dear Sister, 
 
 I have not had a convenient opportunity 
 to write till now : I hope you have not been unhappy at 
 
THE DAIEYMAN's DAUGHTER. 103 
 
 my long silence. Consider that God is my keeper, there- 
 fore, " I shall lack no manner of thing that is good." I 
 entreat you to commend the keeping of your soul, spirit, 
 and body to the Lord, for he is a promise-making, and 
 a true and faithful promise-keeping God. 
 
 " Then let me commend my Saviour to you, 
 The publican's friend and advocate too." 
 
 My dear, I say that God is my keeper : you will say^ 
 he is yours — it is true, for ''in him we all live, move, 
 and have our being ; " but I can say with Job, " I know 
 that my Eedeemer liveth " and 
 
 " He is now pleading his merits and death, 
 And still Interceding for sinners beneath j"^ 
 
 and he is waiting to be gracious to you, for he is long- 
 suffering and kind, plenteous in goodness ; his love and 
 mercy know no end nor bounds, and his compassions 
 fail not : now, my dear, 
 
 " Ready for you the angels wait, 
 To triumph in your blest estate ; 
 Tuning theii^ harps, they long to praise 
 The wonders of redeeming grace." 
 
 my dear sister, search the scriptures diligently ; pray 
 to God earnestly; for in so doing, you will find that he 
 is a God "nigh at hand, and not afar off." He has 
 promised to be found of those that seek him ; for none 
 ever sought his face in vain, neither did ever any trust 
 in him, and was deceived. my dear sister, if you did 
 but believe how willing God is to reveal his Son in your 
 heart, the hope of glory ! O how would your soul be 
 ravished, if Christ would appear to you the altogether 
 lovely, and. the first among ten thousand ! Then could 
 you say those blessed words, 
 
 " My soul, through my Redeemer's love, 
 Saved from the second death I feel ; 
 My eyes from tears of dark despair, 
 My feet from falling into hell. 
 
104 THE DAIKY man's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Wherefore to him my feet shall-run, 
 My eyes on his perfections gaze, 
 My soul shall live for God alone, 
 And all within me shout his praise." 
 
 I entreat you to read the word of God carefally, 
 for in it is eternal life. All the promises there stand 
 engaged to make you blessed, if you truly repent, and 
 forsake your sins, and turn to God with full purpose of 
 heart, and fully believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, that 
 he will -save you from your sins, with a present and 
 everlasting salvation : for he says, only believe and thou 
 shall be saved. We should receive the Word of God, as 
 if it was the awful voice of God from heaven. It will 
 be awful tO' the wicked and unconverted : .... 
 may the Lord quicken your dead soul 
 
 " with life divine, 
 
 And make you in his image shine." 
 
 O may you feel the kindlings of love divine shed 
 abroad in your heart. Farewell in the Lord, my dear 
 sister. 
 
 'I'he following little narrative seems to have been 
 intended for her own private use. It is apparently left 
 unfinished. 
 
 November 30, 1800. 
 Elizabeth Wallbridge, born July 29, 1770, 
 I feel my mind more composed when writing, and 
 more free from wandering thoughts, than at any other 
 time ; for I have little retirement, and when I have, it is 
 seldom free from disturbances, so that I am almost con- 
 tinually conversant with the world. The Lord knoweth 
 what a burden it is to my mind, and how impatient I 
 have been. May the Lord pardon his unfaithful, un- 
 profitable servant, and sanctify me throughout, soul, 
 
105 
 
 spirit, and body, and plunge me in tlie Godhead's deepest 
 sea, that I may be lost in his immensity. O glorious 
 hope of perfect love ! may it ever fill and lift my ravished 
 spirit up to things above ; there I shall for ever love. 
 
 I thought I would just set down, as the Lord is pleased 
 to give me time and strength, a few of his particular 
 mercies and favours as I can recollect. He has abounded 
 in love and mercy to me : O that I had made him all the 
 returns that love could make by giving myself a sacrifice 
 daily unto him 1 But now I have to lament my short 
 comings, and to apply to the "blood of sprinkling" 
 which speaks my sins forgiven, and purifies my soul and 
 makes it meet for heaven. O what a precious Saviour 
 have I found 1 that I could make him known to all 
 mankind, that all may turn and taste the riches of his 
 grace I At present I am so very weak in body and mind 
 that I can recollect but very little : it has been decaying 
 near four years ; but in the Lord Jehovah is my ever- 
 lasting strength, and whoever relies on him shall never 
 be ashamed, and shall be freed from all slavish fears. 
 
 I seemed to have some fear of God, and love to him 
 from my childhood. His restraining grace kept me from 
 falling into great and open sin, and gave me such a love 
 to truth and uprightness, that I seemed to hate every 
 false way, word, and work, in myself and others. I 
 remember, when I went to school, one of my playmates 
 that I was very fond of, used to take every opportunity 
 to get money from her mother unknown to her, and 
 bring to school, and buy all kinds of little toys, and then 
 freely give me and another or two an equal share with 
 herself. But how did the Spirit of the Lord strive 
 with me at that time and convince me of the evil, so that 
 I had' no peace of mind whilst I partook of the sin, and 
 yet I had not strength to resist it. It was so on my mind 
 that I ought to make her fault known, not to conceal it 
 and partake of part. I could see it a great evil in the 
 
106 THE DAIRY Mi.N'S DAUGHTEK. 
 
 person that sold her the things, whose daughter took 
 part, and, I believe, knew as well as I did how she came 
 by it ; but I never revealed it, though I always bore it 
 on my mind with abhorrence. What a sad thing to 
 yield to sin against such clear convictions ! 
 
 I was early taught a form of prayer, which I continued 
 to repeat in a careless manner when I was laid down in 
 bed, but very often I fell asleep before I said them half. 
 But, blessed be God, he still spared me, and often drew 
 me to himself by the cords of love ; for at an early age 
 he drew me to secret prayer, where I often felt the kind- 
 lings of his love ; but had none to set me forward, so 
 that I often neglected this duty ; but when alone I have 
 often felt great sweetness in it. I believe if I had heard 
 the gospel preached, I should have been very early 
 devoted to that God I now love and adore. But I do 
 not yet love him as he has promised I shall, with all my 
 loving heart, when sin is all destroyed. O happy mo- 
 ment, how I long for it I 
 
 The last document is 
 
 HETl WILL. 
 
 My dear father, and mother, and brothers — If it 
 should please the Lord to spare you all, till after my 
 decease, I take this opportunity to set down what I 
 simply desire, if it be the Lord's will and agreeable to 
 you all. If I die under this roof, it will be best as soon 
 
 as I am dead, to have my cofiin made; let Mr. 
 
 make it, if it is quite agreeable ; and then I can be 
 carried down stairs, not to disturb you or break your 
 rest. And there the angels of my covenant-making and 
 promise-keeping God will watch over me and protect my 
 sleeping dust ; so that you need not fear any evil spirit. 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 107 
 
 for they will have done with me for ever, they will never 
 assault me any more ; I shall then, through Christ, who 
 hath loved me with an everlasting love, gain the glorious 
 victory over all the principalities and powers of dark- 
 ness ; for they know that I am a redeemed captive from 
 their power, though they cease not to tempt me to return 
 to my former customs, that I may be again in bondage 
 to fear : but glory be given to God, his grace is sufQcient 
 for me ; hitherto he hath brought me safe through, and 
 I know he will save to the end. May I lift up my heart 
 to him and cry — O thou 
 
 " Fairer than the sons of men, 
 Do not let me turn again." 
 
 Let my cof&n be very plain, neat, and strong, made to 
 cover very close. Let it be made white inside and out, 
 if no trouble ; and for my shroud a little wool will do, 
 if you like it : it will be less expense ; for it will all^turn 
 to dust. I care not who you ask to my funeral : I want 
 no form of young people, I had rather have those that 
 love God, that they may rejoice over me with angels 
 above, and praise a God of love. [_She then names several 
 friends whom she desired to he present, and proceeds^ Let 
 them all meet together that can or will come . . . and I 
 trust they will feel the Lord powerfully present in the 
 midst to bless every waiting soul, and reveal the secrets 
 of his love. Mr. Eichmond or the minister of N'ewchurch, 
 which you please ; I love them both, because they love 
 God: for "God is love," and his love constrains us to 
 
 love one another Do not be afraid of disturbing 
 
 the peacefuj dead in singing praises to God and the 
 Lamb who hath redeemed me from sin. It may be, my 
 happy spirit may be permitted to join with listening 
 angels who catch the approving sound, while all heaven's 
 host cry — a child is born into our world above. 
 
 Let these hymns be sung: the 37th, "Hosanna to 
 
108 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Jesus on high ; " the 85th, " 'Tis finished, 'tis done ; " the 
 33rd, " Ah lovely appearance of death ; " the 50th, in 
 the large book, '' Hark, a voice divides the sky." If the 
 preacher please, for the glory of God, and the good of 
 the living, let him preach a sermon from Psalm cxvi. 15. 
 '' Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his 
 saints ; " and may the word be attended with power ; a 
 divine energy and the quickening influence of the Spirit 
 of God rest upon the minister and the hearers, that glory 
 may be given to God, and great good done in his pre- 
 cious name; that his saints that love him may be 
 strengthened and refreshed and built up in their most 
 holy faith ; that they may go on their way rejoicing in the 
 strength of the Lord, from grace to grace, till glory end 
 what grace begun ; that they may be fully prepared to 
 meet death with Christian courage. And may all my 
 dear friends follow on to know the Lord, and experi- 
 mentally to feel the saving power of divine grace in each 
 of their hearts, that they may give glory to God, and 
 triumphantly quit the stage of mortality, shouting — 
 victory through the blood of the Lamb that was slain, 
 who now is ascended on high for ever to reign. But I 
 would have all remember, if they have never yet been 
 convinced of their lost and miserable state by nature, 
 that it is high time for them to awake out of sleep, and 
 cry mightily to God to show them their danger and save 
 them from destruction. For without faith and prayer 
 you cannot be saved. Then come like the humble 
 publican, with a feeling sense of your sins, and true faith 
 in his merits to atone for your sins and cleanse your 
 guilty souls, and you will be sure to find mercy, pardon, 
 and peace, and grace to help you in every time of need. 
 When I was brought home, I was in great hopes I 
 should see a great change; but I have been painfully 
 disappointed to the present moment, which often fills my 
 heart with grief and sorrow, to see sinners so uncon- 
 
THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 109 
 
 cerned upon the brink of death. But if I am neyer 
 permitted to see that happy change, I hope you will 
 experience it, and meet me in glory : there we shall part 
 no more. [The remainder is occupied with the distribution 
 of her little property, consisting almost entirely of wearing 
 apparel, among her relatives^ 
 
 The following letters were addressed to the Dairyman's 
 daughter by Mr. Eichmond. The first is merely a short 
 note, but it is inserted as a characteristic illustration of 
 the style in which he addressed her. 
 
 LETTEK I. 
 
 It has pleased God, my Christian sister, for 
 several weeks past to keep me in a state of sickness, 
 from which soon by his goodness I hope to be relieved. 
 I am at present unable to say half what I wish to you ; 
 but lest you should suspect me of inattention to your 
 friendly and welcome letter, I write these few lines to 
 say, that you shall either hear from me at length, or see 
 me shortly. May God support you through your trial 
 of ill-health ; and the nearer you approach the other 
 world, whenever it be God's appointed time, may you be 
 more and more heavenly-minded. Peace be multiplied 
 to you. I pray for you and beg you to know 
 
 How faithfully I am, 
 Yours in Christ, 
 
 L. ElCHMONU. 
 
 10 
 
110 THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 LETTER 11. 
 
 You maj be assured upon the faitli of one who 
 loves God and would fain serve and obey him, that you 
 are not out of my mind, though I have been prevented 
 from doing myself the pleasure of calling upon you. I 
 have also delayed writing till now from an almost daily 
 expectation of coming your way, but as it has happened 
 otherwise, I now acknowledge the receipt of your last 
 letter, and rejoice at the sight of words dictated by a 
 spirit of godliness, humility, and love. In a perverse 
 and adulterous generation, like the present one, what 
 can be so cheering to the soul as converse with those 
 who really know the Lord, and love him because he 
 hath first loved them ? I am well convinced of the 
 propriety and force of your advice with respect to my 
 conduct, and that of the ministers of the gospel in general. 
 God grant such a weak and unprofitable servant as I am, 
 may find grace and ability to conduct myself as becomes 
 a faithful labourer in the vineyard ! For who can do it 
 of his own strength ? What are the natural powers of 
 sinful man to work out the righteousness of God ? To the 
 Spirit of Christ, which changeth and strengtheneth the 
 inner man, we must attribute all : to him be honour, 
 glory, and praise in all the churches now and evermore. 
 I have read your two books, and find much profit in 
 them both. It appears that the life of Madame Guion 
 should be attended to with some caution, which Mr. 
 Wesley very frequently draws our observation to in his 
 short notes at the bottom of the pages. She was some- 
 times influenced by notions which had not a sufficiently 
 strong scriptural foundation, and therefore in these things 
 should not be set as a pattern ; but her love of God and 
 her anxiety to be for ever joined to him, are lovely and 
 
THE DAIEY man's DAUGHTER. Ill 
 
 interesting. The true rule for discerning the motions 
 and operations of the blessed Spirit within us, is to com- 
 pare our feelings with those ways of holiness, happy 
 fruits of the Spirit, which the apostle describes : let 
 every thing be referred to this as a standard and we 
 never shall be mistaken. May God so guide and direct 
 you and me to all goodness, that our works may glorify 
 — not ourselves, none but Jesus can do that, but — our 
 Father which is in heaven. May numbers have reason, 
 through the mercy of God, to bless our memory : and 
 may the seed which in my ministerial capacity I am 
 commissioned to sow, to plant, and to water, receive its 
 due increase from God. I assure you this lies much at 
 my heart, and occupies much of my thoughts , seeing 
 and " knowing the terrors of the Lord," I would " per- 
 suade men " with all truth, earnestness, and sincerity, to 
 flee from the wrath to come, and throw themselves and 
 their sins at the foot of the cross, with true repentance 
 and faith. Faith is the hand which we stretch forth to 
 receive the benefits of Christ's blood ; it is the soul of 
 the spiritual life, and the grand distinguishing charac- 
 teristic of the true Christian from the false; it is the 
 touchstone of Christianity ; the burning coal Avhich sets 
 fire to the sacrifice on the altar ; the sun which enlightens 
 the wilderness of the world; the lantern which guides 
 our feet through the valley of the shadow of death. True 
 faith never can be separated from hope and love ; they 
 are three lovely sisters who take up their dwelling in 
 the heart when it becomes the temple of the Holy Ghost ; 
 their parent is God, and their offspring, righteous works : 
 how do they shine forth in the midst of a vain and 
 wicked world, like a candle set upon a hill in a dark and 
 gloomy night ! May their operations spread wider and 
 wider over the face of the world, and may the church of 
 God increase in their fruits, till at length the happy time 
 shall arrive when the kingdoms of this world shall 
 
112 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 become the kingdom of the Lord and his Anointed. God 
 hasten so blessed a period ! 
 
 I was much shocked at the sudden death of my neigh- 
 bour . Such unprepared calls ought to operate 
 
 upon those that are left behind, as salutary warnings : 
 alive and healthy this morning, who knoweth that this 
 very night our souls shall not be required of us ? Let 
 us be on the watch and endeavour to make others so, for 
 we " know neither the day nor the hour " of our Master's 
 coming. I am told that his successor has given some 
 strong calls to duty and attentiveness in religion, which 
 I hope in God will prove efficacious. He appears in 
 conversation very much in earnest, and seems steady and 
 persevering ; but I have only seen him twice. In that 
 parish you well know how much reformation is wanted. 
 Alas ! into what place can we go where it is not wanting ? 
 Iniquity triumphs, and presumption darkens the very 
 heavens with her wide-spreading wings ; blasphemy, 
 covetousness, and uncleanness, abound and prosper ; men 
 are lovers of pleasure, rather than lovers of God. Does 
 not the world go just as Satan would have it ? Some- 
 times he will even suggest to the faithful that their 
 endeavours are in vain, and he tempts to inactivity and 
 sloth; but, blessed be God, the Bible is in our hands, 
 and there we find arguments, and strength, and consola- 
 tion, and admonition, and precept, and commandment, 
 and encouragement to proceed in the mighty task of 
 beating down the strong holds of iniquity, and destroy- 
 ing the works of the devil. Even though 'Uhe over- 
 flowings of ungodliness may make us afraid," God 
 worketh the good cause, and in the end it shall prosper. 
 The church shall never fail, nor shall the gates of hell 
 prevail against it. Your health, I hear, is weak : may 
 God strengthen the inner man as he thinks fit to weaken 
 the outer ; may his kingdom rule in your heart, though 
 Ihe outward fortifications crumble to dust. If it j^lease 
 
THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGIITEE. 113 
 
 God to shorten the span of your life^ I trust you will 
 meet your Eedeemer with peace and joy, and that you 
 will employ the rest of that time which is appointed you 
 on earth in promoting the cause of righteousness, in 
 combating the artifices of Satan, resisting the ways of 
 ungodliness, conversing with God in fervent prayer and 
 holy meditation, contemplating his redeeming love, and 
 hungering after higher and higher degrees of virtue. 
 May the prospect of an heavenly inheritance keep you 
 alive to holiness and gratitude, and in looking upon the 
 world around, remember that the true spirit of the gospel 
 teaches us to love the sinner whilst we hate the sin. — ■ 
 Grace, mercy, and peace be multiplied upon you from 
 God and the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 Believe me to be 
 
 Yours, with Christian regard. 
 
 L. ElCHMOND. 
 10* 
 
THE NEGRO SERVANT. 115 
 
 THE 
 
 NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 PAKT I. 
 
 If a map of the world, instead of being coloured as is 
 usual, witli many gay and brilliant tints, in order to 
 distinguish its various continents, kingdoms, and islands, 
 from each other, were to be painted with darker or 
 brighter hues corresponding with the spiritual character 
 of the inhabitants, what a gloomy aspect would be pre- 
 sented to the eye of the Christian geographer by the 
 greater portion of the habitable globe! — How dark 
 would be the shade thus cast over the larger districts of 
 the vast continents of Asia and America ! and what a 
 mass of gloom would characterize the African quarter 
 of the world ! 
 
 Here and there a bright spot would mark the residence 
 of a few missionary labourers devoting themselves to 
 God, and scattering the rays of Christian light among 
 the surrounding heathen: but over the greater part "the 
 blackness of darkness" would emblematically describe 
 the iron reign of Mahometan superstition and Pagan 
 idolatry. 
 
 The Christian prays that God would "have respect 
 unto the covenant ; for the dark places of the earth are 
 full of the habitations of cruelty." He hopes to see the 
 nations "open their eyes, and turn from darkness to 
 light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they 
 
116 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among 
 them which are sanctified by faith." 
 
 The curse originally pronounced on the descendants 
 of Ham, has, in a variety of respects, both temporal and 
 spiritual; been awfully fulfilled : "A servant of servants 
 shall he be." Slavery, as well of mind as body, has been 
 continued amongst the Africans through their genera- 
 tions, in a manner which at once proves the truth of the 
 divine prediction, and yet calls aloud for the ardent 
 prayers and active exertions of Christians in their behalf. 
 The time will come when the heathen shall be proved to 
 have been given to Christ " for an inheritance, and the 
 uttermost parts of the earth for his possession." The 
 degraded Hottentot and the poor benighted Negro will 
 look from the ends of the earth unto Jesus, and be saved. 
 " Many shall go to and fro, and knowledge shall thereby 
 be increased." The Eedeemer " shall see of the travail 
 of his soul and be satisfied," in beholding the gathering 
 together, not only of the outcasts of Israel, that are ready 
 to perish; but of Churches and people from all the 
 tongues, and kindreds, and nations of the earth. In the 
 day of his appearing, -the sons of Africa will vie with 
 their brethren of the Korth, and the West, and the East^ 
 in resounding the praises of God their Saviour from one 
 end of the earth to the other. 
 
 In the mean time, we rejoice in every occasional 
 instance of the love and power of God in effecting the 
 conversion of some, who appear as the first fruits of that 
 harvest which shall hereafter so fruitfully grow up, to 
 the honour of Christ and the blessedness of his redeemed 
 people. 
 
 The following narrative of real facts may, perhaps, 
 illustrate the importance of the foregoing remarks. 
 
 During a residence of some years continuance, in the 
 neighbourhood of the sea, an officer in the navy called 
 upon me, and stated, that he had just taken lodging in 
 
THE NEGEO SEEVANT. 117 
 
 the parish for his wife and children ; and had a Kegro, 
 who had been three years in his service. '' The lad is a 
 deserving fellow/' said the officer, ''and he has a great 
 desire to be baptized ; I have promised him to ask you 
 to do it, if you have not any objections." 
 
 "Does he know any thing," I replied, ''of the prin- 
 ciples of the Christian religion ? " 
 
 "Oyes, lam sure he does," answered the Captain; 
 "for he talks a deal about it in the kitchen, and often 
 gets laughed at for his pains ; but he takes it all very 
 patiently." 
 
 " Does he behave well as your servant ? " 
 
 " Yes, that he does : he is as honest and civil a feilow 
 as ever came on board a ship, or lived in a house." 
 
 " Was he always so well behaved ? " 
 
 "No," said the officer; "when I first had him, he was 
 often very unruly and deceitful; but for the last two 
 years he has been quite like another creature." 
 
 " Well, Sir, I shall be very glad to see him, and think 
 it probable I shall wish to go through a course of 
 instruction and examination ; during which I shall be 
 able to form a judgment how far it will be right to admit 
 him to the sacrament of baptism. Can he read ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied his master; "he has been taking great 
 pains to learn to read for some tim.e past, and can mr^tke 
 out a chapter in the Bible pretty well, as my m^id 
 servant informs me. He speaks English better tJian 
 many of his countrymen, but you will find it a liitle 
 broken. When will it be convenient that I should send 
 him over to you ? " 
 
 " To-morrow afternoon. Sir, if you please." 
 
 " He shall come to you about four o'clock, and you 
 shall see what you can make of him." 
 
 With this promise he took his leave. I felt glad of an 
 opportunity of instructing a native of that land whose 
 wrongs and injuries had often caused me to sigh and 
 
118 , THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 mourn : the more so, when I reflected who had been the 
 aggressors. 
 
 At the appointed hour, my negro disciple arrived. He 
 was a very young looking man, with a sensible, lively, 
 and pleasing countenance. 
 
 I desired him to sit down, and said, ''Your master 
 informs me, that you wish to have some conversation 
 with me respecting Christian baptism." 
 
 "Yes, Sir, me very much wish to be a Christian," 
 said he. 
 
 '' Why do you wish so ? " 
 
 " Because me know that Christian go to heaven when 
 he die." 
 
 " How long have you had that wish ? " I said. 
 
 "Ever since me hear one goot minister preach in 
 America, two years ago." 
 
 " Where were you born ? " 
 
 "In Africa. Me was very little boy when me was 
 made slave by de white men." 
 
 "How was that?" 
 
 ''Me left father and mother one day at home to go get 
 shells by de sea-shore, and as I was stooping down to 
 gather dem up, some white sailors came out of a boat 
 and took me away. Me never see father nor mother 
 again." 
 
 " And what became of you then ? " 
 
 " Me was put into ship, and brought to Jamaica, and 
 sold to a master, who kept me in his house to serve him 
 
 some years ; when, about three years ago. Captain W j 
 
 my master dat spoke to you, bought me to be his servant 
 on board his ship. And he be goot master ; he gave me 
 my liberty, and made me free, and me live with him ever 
 since." 
 
 " And what thoughts had you about your soul all that 
 time before you went to America ? " I asked him. 
 
THE NEGRO SERVANT. 119 
 
 " Me no care for my soul at all before den. No man 
 teach me one word about my soul." 
 
 '^ Well, now tell me further about wliat happened to 
 you in America. How came you there ? " 
 
 " My master take me dere in his ship, and he stop 
 dere one month, and den me hear the goot minister." 
 
 ''And what did that minister say?" 
 
 ''He said, me was great sinner." 
 
 " What, did he speak to you in particular ? " 
 
 ' Yes, me tink so ; for dere was great many to hear 
 him, but he tell dem all about me." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 " He say about all de tings dat were in my heart." 
 
 "What things?" 
 
 " My sin, my ignorance, my know noting, my believe 
 noting. De good minister made me see dat me tinh 
 noting goot, no do noting goot." 
 
 " And what else did he tell you ? " 
 
 " He sometime look me in de face, and say, dat Jesus 
 Christ came to die for sinners, poor black sinners, as 
 well as white sinners. Me tought dis was very goot, 
 very goot indeed, to do so for a wicked sinner." 
 
 " And what made you think this was all spoken to 
 you in particular ? " 
 
 " Because me sure no such wicked sinner as me in all 
 de place. De goot minister must know me was dere." 
 
 "And what did you think of yourself while he 
 preached about Jesus Christ ? " 
 
 "Sir, me was very much afraid, when he said de 
 wicked must be turned into hell-fire. For me felt that 
 me was very wicked sinner, and dat make me cry. And 
 he talk much about de love of Christ to sinners, and dat 
 make me cry more. And me tought me must love 
 Jesus Christ; but me not know how, and dat make me 
 cry again." 
 
120 THE NEGBO SERVANT. 
 
 ''Did you hear more sermons than one during that 
 month?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir ; master give me leave to go tree times, and 
 all de times me wanted to love Jesus more, and do what 
 Jesus said ; but my heart seem sometime hard, like a 
 stone." 
 
 " Have you ever heard any preaching since that time ? " 
 
 " Never, till me hear sermon at dis church last Sunday, 
 and den me long to be baptized in Jesus' name ; for me 
 had no Christian friends to baptize me when little child." 
 
 " And what have been your thoughts all the time since 
 you first heard these sermons in America ? did you tell 
 any body then what you felt ? " 
 
 "Ko, me spdak to nobody but to God den. De goot 
 minister say, dat God hear de cry of de poor ; so me cry 
 to God, and he hear me. And me often tink about Jesus 
 Christ, and wish to be like him." 
 
 " Can you read ? " 
 
 ''A little." 
 
 " Who taught you to read ? " 
 
 " God teach me to read." 
 
 '' What do you mean by saying so ? " 
 
 " God give me desire to read, and dat make reading 
 easy. Master give me Bible, and one sailor show me de 
 letters : and so me learned to read by myself, with God's 
 good help." 
 
 '' And what do you read in the Bible ? " 
 
 '' O ! me read all about Jesus Christ, and how he loved 
 sinners ; and wicked men killed him, and he died, and 
 came again from de grave, and all dis for poor negro. 
 And it sometime make me cry, to tink dat Christ love 
 so poor negro." 
 
 " And what do the people say about your reading and 
 praying, and attention to the things of God ? " 
 
 "Some wicked people dat do not love Jesus Christ, 
 rail me great fool, and negro dog, and black hypocrite. 
 
THE NEGEO SERVANT. 121 
 
 And dat make me sometime feel angry: but den me 
 remember Cliristian must not be angry for dat. Jesus 
 Christ was called ugly black names, and lie was quiet as 
 a lamb ; and so den me remember Jesus Christ, and me 
 say noting again to dem.^' 
 
 I was much delighted with the simplicity and apparent 
 sincerity of this poor negro ; and wished to ascertain 
 what measure of light and feeling he possessed on a few 
 leading points. St. Paul's summary of religion^' occur- 
 ring to me, I said, " Tell me what is faith ? What is 
 your own faith? What do you believe about Jesus 
 Christ, and your own soul ? " 
 
 "Me believe," said he, "dat Jesus Christ came into 
 de world to save sinners ; and dough me be chief of sin- 
 ners, yet Jesus will save me, dough me be only poor 
 black negro." 
 
 " AYhat is your hope ? What do you hope for, both 
 as to this life and that which is to come ? " 
 
 " Me hope Christ Jesus will take goot care of me, and 
 keep me from sin and harm, while me live here ; and me 
 hope, when me come to die, to go and live with him 
 always, and never die again." 
 
 ''What are your thoughts about Christian love or 
 charity ? I mean whom and what do you most love ? " 
 
 "Me love God de Father, because he was so goot to 
 send his Son. Me love Jesus Christ, because he love me. 
 Me love all men, black men and white men too ; for God 
 made dem all. Me love goot Christian people, because 
 Jesus love dem, and dey love Jesus." 
 
 Such was my first conversation with this young dis- 
 ciple; I rejoiced in the prospect of receiving him into 
 the church, agreeably to his desire. I wished, however, 
 to converse somewhat further, and enquire more minutely 
 
 * Now abideth faith, hope, charity ; these three : but the greatest of these ia 
 charity. (1 Cor. xiii. 13.) 
 
 11 
 
122 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 into his conduct ; and promised to ride over, and see 
 him in a few days at his master's lodgings. 
 
 When he was gone, I thought within myself, God had 
 indeed redeemed souls by the blood of his Son, " out of 
 every kindred and tongue, and people and nation." If 
 many of them for a season are devoted to earthly slavery,'^ 
 through the cruel avarice of man; yet, blessed be God, 
 some amongst them are, through divine grace, called to 
 the glorious liberty of the children of God ; and so are 
 redeemed from the slavery of him who takes so many 
 captive at his will. 
 
 It is a tappy thought, that "Ethiopia shall soon 
 stretch forth her hands unto God. Sing unto God, ye 
 kingdoms of the earth, O sing praises unto the Lord." 
 
 PAKT II. 
 
 When we endeavour to estimate the worth of an 
 immortal soul, we are utterly lost in the attempt. The 
 art of spiritual computation is not governed by the same 
 principles and rules which guide our speculations con- 
 cerning earthly objects. The value of gold, silver, 
 merchandise, food, raiment, lands, and houses, is easily 
 regulated by custom, convenience, or necessity. Even 
 the more capricious and imaginary worth of a picture, 
 medal, or statue, may be reduced to something of syste- 
 matic rule. Crowns and sceptres have had their adjudged 
 valuation, and kingdoms have been bought and sold for 
 sums of money. But who can affix the adequate price 
 to a human soul ? " What shall it profit a man, if ho 
 shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? or 
 what shall a man give in exchange for his soul ? " 
 
 The principles of ordinary arithmetic all fail her^^ 
 
 * This circumstance took place before the late abolition of the slave-trade 
 
THE NEGRO SERVANT. 123 
 
 and we are constrained to say, that He alone who paid 
 the ransom for sinners, and made the souls of men his 
 "purchased possession," can comprehend and solve the 
 arduous question. They are indeed "bought with a 
 price:" but are "not redeemed with corruptible things, 
 as silver and gold ; but with the precious blood of Christ, 
 as of a lamb without blemish and without spot." We 
 shall only ascertain the value of a soul, when we shall 
 be fully able to estimate the worth of a Saviour. 
 
 Too often have we been obliged to hear what is the 
 price which sordid unfeeling avarice has affixed to the 
 body of a poor negro slave ; let us now attempt, while we 
 peruse the foregoing narrative, to meditate on the value 
 which Infinite Mercy has attached to his soul. 
 
 Kot many days after the first interview with my negro 
 disciple, I went from home with the design of visiting 
 and conversing with him again at his master's house, 
 which was situated in a part of the parish near four miles 
 distant from my own. The road which I took lay over 
 a lofty down, which commands a prospect of scenery 
 seldom exceeded in beauty and magnificence. It gave 
 birth to silent but instructive contemplation. 
 
 The down itself was covered with sheep, grazing on 
 its wholesome and plentiful pasture. Here and there a 
 shepherd's boy kept his appointed station, and watched 
 over the flock committed to his care. I viewed it as an 
 emblem of my own situation and employment. Adjoin- 
 ing the hill lay an extensive parish, wherein many souls 
 were given me to watch over, and render an account of, 
 at the day of the great Shepherd's appearing. The 
 pastoral scene before me seemed to be a living parable, 
 illustrative of my own spiritual charge. I felt a prayer- 
 ful wish, that the good Shepherd who gave his life for 
 the sheep, might enable me to be faithful to my trust. 
 
 It occurred to me, about the same time, that my young 
 African friend was a sheep of another more distant fold, 
 
124 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 whicli Christ will jet bring to hear his voice. For there 
 shall be one fold and one Shepherd, and all nations shall 
 be brought to acknowledge that he alone " restoreth onr 
 Bouls, and leadeth us into the paths of righteousness for 
 his name's sake." On the left hand of the hill, as I 
 advanced eastward, and immediately under its declivity, 
 extended a beautiful tract of land intersected by a large 
 arm of the sea, which (as the tide was fast flowing in) 
 formed a broad lake or haven of three miles in length. 
 Woods,' villages, cottages, and churches, surrounded it 
 in most pleasing variety of prospect. Beyond this lay a 
 large fleet of ships of war, and not far from it another 
 of merchantmen, both safe at anchor, and covering a 
 tract of the sea of several miles in extent. Beyond this 
 again, I saw the fortifications, dock-yards, and extensive 
 public edifices of a large seaport town. The sun shone 
 upon the windows of the buildings and the flags of the 
 ships, with great brightness, and added much to the 
 splendour of the view. 
 
 I thought of the concerns of empires, the plans of states- 
 men, the fate of nations, and the horrors of war. Happy 
 will be that day, when He shall make wars to cease unto 
 the end of the earth, and peace to be established on its 
 borders I 
 
 In the mean time, let us be thankful for those vessels 
 and instruments of defence, which, in the hands of God, 
 preserve our country from the hand of the enemy and 
 the fury of the destroyer. What, thought I, do we not 
 owe to the exertions of the numerous crews on board 
 those ships, who leave their homes to fight their country's 
 battles, affd maintain its cause, whilst we sit every man 
 under his vine and fig-tree, tasting the sweets of a tran- 
 quillity unknown to most other nations in these days of 
 conflict and bloodshed ! 
 
 On my right hand, to the south and ^outh-east, the 
 unbounded ocean displayed its mighty waves. It was 
 
THE NEGKO SEKVANT. 125 
 
 covered v/itli vessels of every size, sailing in all direc- 
 tions : some outward-bound to the most distant parts of 
 the world ; others, after a long voyage, returning home, 
 laden with the produce of remote climes : some going 
 forth in search of the enemy ; others sailing back to port 
 after the hard-fought engagement, and bearing the 
 trophies of victory in the prizes which accompanied 
 them home. 
 
 At the south-west of the spot on which I was riding, 
 extended a beautiful semicircular bay, of about nine or 
 ten miles in circumference, bounded by high cliffs of 
 white, red, and brown-coloured earths. Beyond this lay 
 a range of hills, whose tops are often buried in cloudy 
 mists, but which then appeared clear and distinct. This 
 chain of hills, meeting with another from the north, 
 bounds a large fruitful vale, whose fields, now ripe for 
 harvest, proclaimed the goodness of God in the rich 
 provision which he makes for the sons of men. It is he 
 who "prepares the corn: he crowns the year with his 
 goodness, and his paths drop fatness. They drop upon 
 the pastures of the wilderness, and the little hills rejoice 
 on every side. The pastures are clothed with flocks ; the 
 vallies also are covered ^ over with corn : they shout for 
 joy, they also sing." 
 
 " The roving sight 
 
 Pursues its pleasing course o'er neighbouring hills 
 Of many a different form and different hue ; 
 Bright with the rip'ning corn, or green with grass, 
 Or dark with clover's purple bloom." 
 
 As I looked upon the numerous ships moving before 
 me, I remembered the words of the Psalmist : " They 
 that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great 
 "waters : these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders 
 in the deep. For he commandeth and raiseth the stormy 
 wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount 
 up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths; 
 
126 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to 
 and frO; and stagger like a drunken man^ and are at their 
 wit's end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, 
 and he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh 
 the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. 
 Then are they glad, because they be quiet : so he bringeth 
 them unto their desired haven. O! that men would 
 praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful 
 works to the children of men." (Psalm cvii.) 
 
 The Negro Servant then occurred to my mind. Per- 
 haps, thought I, some of these ships are bound to Africa, 
 in quest of that most infamous object of merchandise, a 
 cargo of black slaves. Inhuman traffic for a nation that 
 bears the name of Christian ! Perhaps these very waves 
 which are now dashing on the rocks at the foot of this 
 hill, have, on the shores of Africa, borne witness to the 
 horrors of forced separation between wives and husbands, 
 parents and children, torn asunder by merciless men, 
 whose hearts have been hardened against the common 
 feeling of humanity by long custom in this cruel trade. 
 " Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." 
 When shall the endeavours of that truly Christian /nenc? 
 of the oppressed negro be crowned with success, in the 
 abolition of this wicked and disgraceful traffic ? * 
 
 As I pursued the meditations which this magnificent 
 and varied scenery excited in my mind, I approached 
 the edge of a tremendous perpendicular cliff, with which 
 the down terminates ; I dismounted from my horse, and 
 tied it to a bush. The breaking of the waves against 
 the foot of the cliff at so great a distance beneath me, 
 produced an incessant and pleasing murmur. The sea- 
 gulls were flying between the top of the cliff where I 
 
 * The day has since arrived, when the persevering eflforts of Mr. Wilberforce, 
 to accomplish this happy purpose, have been fully answered. The slave-trade 
 IS ABOLISHED. Tho church of God rejoices at this triumph of the cause of 
 Christ over the powers of darkness. 
 
THE NEGEO SERVANT. 127 
 
 Stood, and tlie rocks below, attending iipon tlieir nest^ 
 built in the boles of tbe cliff. The whole scene, in every 
 direction, was grand and impressive : it was suitable to 
 devotion. The Creator appeared in the works of his 
 creation, and called upon the creature to honour and 
 adore. To the believer, this exercise is doubly delight- 
 ful. He possesses a right to the enjoyments of nature 
 and Providence, as well as to the privileges of grace. 
 His title-deed runs thus : ''All things are yours; whether 
 Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or things 
 present, or things to come; all are yours; and ye are 
 Christ's and Christ is God's." 
 
 I cast my eye downwards a little to the left towards 
 a small cove, the shore of which consists of fine hard 
 sand. It is surrounded by fragments' of rock, chalk- 
 cliffs, and steep banks of broken earth. Shut out from 
 human intercourse and dwellings, it seems formed for 
 retirement and contemplation. On one of these rocks I 
 unexpectedly observed a man sitting with a book, which 
 he was reading. The place was near two hundred yards 
 perpendicularly below me, but I soon discovered by his 
 dress, and by the black colour of his features, contrasted 
 with the white rocks beside him, that it was no other 
 than my negro disciple, with, as I doubted not, a Bible 
 in his hand. I rejoiced at this unlooked-for opportunity 
 of meeting him in so solitary and interesting a situation. 
 I descended a steep bank, Avinding by a kind of rude 
 staircase, formed by fishermen, and shepherds' boys in 
 the side of the cliff down to the shore. 
 
 He was intent on his book, and did not perceive me, 
 till I approached very near to him. 
 
 ''William, is that you?" 
 
 " Ah 1 Massa, me very glad to see you. How came 
 Massa into dis place ? Me tought nobody here, but only 
 God and me." 
 
 " I was coming to your master's house to see you, and 
 
128 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 rode round by this way for the sake of the prospect. I 
 often come here in fine weather, to look at the sea and 
 the shipping. Is that your Bible ? " 
 
 "^es, Sir ; * dis my dear goot Bible." 
 
 "I am glad;" said I, ''to see you so well employed. It 
 is a good sign, William." 
 
 " Yes, Massa, a sign dat God is goot to me ; but me 
 never goot to God." 
 
 ''How so?" 
 
 " Me never tank him enough : me never pray to him 
 enough : me never remember enough, who give me all 
 dese goot tings. Massa, me afraid, my heart is very bat. 
 Me wish me was like you." 
 
 " Like me, William ? Why, you are like me, a poor 
 helpless sinner, that must, as well as yourself, perish in 
 his sins, unless God, of his infinite mercy and grace, 
 pluck him as a brand from the burning, and make him 
 an instance of distinguishing love and favour. There is 
 no difference ; we have both come short of the glory of 
 God : all have sinned." 
 
 " No, me not like you, Massa : me tink nobody like 
 me, nobody feel such a heart as me." 
 
 " Yes, William, your feelings, I am persuaded, are like 
 those of every truly convinced soul, who sees the exceed- 
 ing sinfulness of sin, and the greatness of the price which 
 Christ Jesus paid for the sinner's ransom. You can say 
 in the words of the hymn, 
 
 'I the chief of sinners am, 
 But Jesus died for me.' " 
 
 " O yes. Sir, me believe that Jesus die for poor negro. 
 What would become of poor wicked negro, if Christ no 
 die for him? But he die for de chief of sinners, and 
 dat make my heart sometime quite glad." 
 
 * In the course of conversation, be sometimes addressed mo with the word 
 "Massa," for " Master," according to the well-known habit of the negro slaves 
 in the West Indies j and sometimes^ *' Sir," as he was taught since his arrival 
 in England ; but the former word seemed to be most familiar to him. 
 
THE NEGRO SERVANT. 129 
 
 " What part of the Bible were you reading, William? " 
 
 '' Me read how de man upon de cross spoke to Christ, 
 and Christ spoke to him. Now dat man's prayer just do 
 for me: 'Lord, remember me.' Lord, remember poor 
 negro sinner: dis is my prayer every morning, and some- 
 time at night too ; when me cannot tink of many words, 
 den me say de same again, Lord, remember poor negro 
 sinner." 
 
 " And be assured, William, the Lord hears that prayer. 
 He pardoned and accepted the thief upon the cross, and 
 he will not reject you; he will in no wise cast out any 
 that come to him." 
 
 " Ko, Sir, I believe it ; but dere is so much sin in my 
 heart, it make me afraid and sorry. Massa, do you see 
 dese limpets, * how fast dey stick to de rocks here ? Just 
 so, sin stick fast to my heart." 
 
 ''It may be so, William: but take another comparison: 
 do you cleave to Jesus Christ by faith in his death and 
 righteousness, as those limpets cleave to the rock, and 
 neither seas nor storms shall separate you from his love." 
 
 "Dat is just what me want." 
 
 "Tell, me, William, is not that very sin which you 
 speak of, a burden to you? You do not love it; you 
 would be glad to obtain strength against it, and to be 
 freed from it ; would you not ? " 
 
 " O yes ; me give all dis world, if me had it, to be 
 without sin." 
 
 " Come then, and welcome, to Jesus Christ, my brother; 
 his blood cleanseth from all sin. He gave himself as a 
 ransom for sinners. He hath borne our grief and carried 
 our sorrows. He was wounded for our transgressions ; 
 he was bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of 
 our peace was upon him, and with his stripes we are 
 
 * A kind of slicll-fish, whicli abound in the place where we were, and which 
 stick to the rocks with exceeding great force. 
 
130 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 healed. The Lord liatli laid on liim tlie iniquity of us all. 
 Come, freely come to Jesus, the Saviour of sinners." 
 
 "Yes, Massa," said the poor fellow, weeping, "me will 
 come: but me come very slow; very slow, Massa: me 
 want to run, me want to fly. Jesus is very goot to poor 
 negro, to send you to tell him all dis." 
 
 " But this is not the first time you have heard these 
 truths?" 
 
 "No, Sir, dey have been comfort to my soul many 
 times, since me hear goot minister preach in America, as 
 me tell you last week at your house." 
 
 " Well, now I hope, William, that since God has been 
 so graciously pleased to open your eyes, and affect your 
 mind with siich a great sense of his goodness, in giving 
 his Son to die for your sake ; I hope that you do your 
 endeavour to keep his commandments ; I hope you strive 
 to behave well to your master and mistress, and fellow- 
 servants. He that is a Christian inwardly, will be a 
 Christian outwardly ; he that truly and savingly believes 
 in Christ, will show his faith by his works, as the Apostle 
 says. Is it not so, William ? 
 
 " Yes, Sir, me want to do so. Me want to be faithful. 
 Me sorry to tink how bat servant me was, before de goot 
 tings of Jesus Christ come to my heart. Me wish to do 
 well to my Massa, when he see me and when he not see 
 me; for me know God always see me. Me know, dat 
 if me sin against mine own Massa, me sin against God, 
 and God be very angry with me. Beside, how can me 
 love Christ, if me do not what Christ tell me ? Me love 
 my fellow-servants, dough as I tell you before, dey do 
 not much love me, and I pray God to bless dem. And 
 when dey say bat things, and try to make me angry, den 
 me tink, if Jesus Christ were in poor negro's place, he 
 would not revile and answer again with bat words and 
 temper, but he say little, and pray much. And so den 
 me say noting at all, but pray God to forgive dem." 
 
THE NEGRO SERVANT. 131 
 
 The more I conversed with this African convert, the 
 more satisfactory were the evidences of his mind being 
 spiritually enlightened, and his heart effectually wrought 
 upon by the grace of God. 
 
 The circumstances of the place in which we met 
 together, contributed much to the interesting effect which 
 the conversation produced on my mind. The little cove 
 or bay was beautiful in the extreme. The air was calm 
 and serene. The sun shone, but we were sheltered from 
 its rays by the cliffs. One of these was stupendously 
 lofty and large. It was white as snow : its summit hung 
 directly over our heads. The sea-fowl were flying around 
 it. Its whiteness was occasionally chequered with dark 
 green masses of samphire, which grew there. On the 
 other side, and behind us, was a more gradual declivity 
 of many-coloured earths, interspersed with green patches 
 of grass and bushes, and little streams of water trickling 
 down the bank, and mingling with the sea at the bottom. 
 At our feet the waves were advancini? over shelves of 
 rocks covered with great variety of sea-weeds, which 
 swam in little fragments, and displayed much beauty and 
 elegance of form, as they were successively thrown upon 
 the sand. 
 
 Ships of war and commerce were seen at different 
 distances. Fishermen were plying their trade in boats 
 nearer to the shore. The noise of the flowing tide, com- 
 bined with the voices of the sea-gulls over our heads, 
 and now and then a distant gun fired from the ships as 
 they passed along, added much to the peculiar sensations 
 to which the scene gave birth. Occasionally the striking 
 of oars upon the waves, accompanied by the boatman's 
 song, met the ear. The sheep aloft upon the down some- 
 times mingled their bleatings with the other sounds. 
 Thus all nature seemed to unite in impressing an atten- 
 tive observer's heart with affecting thoughts. 
 
 I remained for a considerable time in conversation 
 
132 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 with the Kegro, finding that his master was gone from 
 home for the day, and had given him liberty for some 
 hours. I spoke to him on the nature, duty, and privilege 
 of Christian baptism ; pointed out to him from a prayer- 
 book which I had with me, the clear and scriptural 
 principles of our own church upon that head, and found 
 that he was very desirous of conforming to them. He 
 appeared to me to be well qualified for receiving that 
 sacramental pledge of his Eedeemer's love ; and I rejoiced 
 in the prospect of beholding him no longer a " stranger 
 and foreigner, but a fellow-citizen with the saints, and 
 of the household of God." 
 
 "•God," said I to him, "'has promised to sprinkle 
 many nations,' not only with the waters of baptism, but 
 also with the dews of his heavenly grace. He says, he 
 will not only 'pour water on him that is thirsty,' but, 'I 
 will pour my Spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon 
 thine ofispring.' " 
 
 "Yes, Massa," said he, "he can make me to be clean 
 in heart, and of a right spirit; he can purge me with 
 hyssop, and I shall be clean : he can wash me, and I shall 
 be whiter dan snow." 
 
 "May God give you these blessings, and confirm you 
 in every good gift ! " 
 
 I was much pleased with the affectionate manner in 
 which he spoke of his parents, from whom he had been 
 stolen in his childhood : and his wishes that God might 
 direct them by some means to the knowledge of a 
 Saviour. 
 
 " Who knows," I said, " but some of these ships may 
 be carrying a missionary to the country where they live, 
 to declare the good news of salvation to your country- 
 men, and to your own dear parents in particular, if they 
 are yet alive ? " 
 
 "0! my dear fader and moder: my dear gracious 
 Saviour," exclaimed he, leaping from the ground as he 
 
TR^ NEGKO SERVANT. 133 
 
 spoke, "if clou wilt hnt save deir souls, and tell dem 
 what dou hast done for sinner — but — " 
 
 He stopped and seemed mucli affected. 
 
 "My friend," said I, "I will now pray with you for 
 your own soul, and for those of your parents also." 
 
 " Do, Massa, dat is very goot and kind ; do pray for 
 poor negro souls here and every where." 
 
 This was a new and solemn " house of prayer." The 
 sea-sand was our floor, the heavens were our roof, the 
 cliffs, the rocks, the hills, and the waves, formed the 
 walls of our chamber. It was not indeed a " place where 
 prayer was wont to be made;" but for this once it 
 became a hallowed spot ; it will, by me, ever be remem- 
 bered as such. The presence of God was there. — 1 
 prayed. — The Negro wept. — His heart was full. I felt 
 with him, and could not but weep likewise. 
 
 The last day will show whether our tears were not the 
 tears of sincerity and Christian love. 
 
 It was time for my return ; I leaned upon his arm, as 
 we ascended the steep cliff in my way back to my horse, 
 which I had left at the top of the hill. Humility and 
 thankfulness were marked in his countenance. I leaned 
 upon his arm with the feelings of a brother. It was a 
 relationship I was happy to own. — I took him by the 
 hand at parting, appointed one more interview previous 
 to the day of baptizing him, and bid him farewell for the 
 present. 
 
 "God bless you, my dear Massa." 
 
 "And you, my fellow Christian, for ever and ever.'* 
 
 12 
 
134 THE NEGEO SEKVANT. 
 
 PABT III. 
 
 The interesting and affecting conversation which I 
 had with the Negro Servant, produced a sensation not 
 easy to be expressed. As I returned home, I was led 
 into meditation on the singular clearness and beauty of 
 those evidences of faith and conversion of heart to God, 
 which I had just seen and heard. How plainly, I thought, 
 it appears, that salvation is "freely by grace through 
 faith. ; and that not of ourselves ; it is the gift of God ; 
 not of works, lest any man should boast." What but 
 the Holy Spirit, who is the author and giver of the life 
 of grace, could have wrought such a change from the 
 once dark, perverse, and ignorant heathen, to this now 
 convinced, enlightened, humble, and believing Christian ? 
 How manifestly is the uncontrolled sovereignty of the 
 divine will exercised in the calling and translating of 
 sinners from darkness to light I what a lesson may the 
 nominal Christian of a civilized country sometimes learn 
 from the simple, sincere religion of a converted heathen I 
 
 I afterwards made particular inquiry into this young 
 man's domestic and general deportment. Every thing I 
 heard was satisfactory ; nor could I entertain a doubt 
 respecting the consistency of his conduct and character. 
 I had some further conversations with him, in the course 
 of which I pursued such a plan of scriptural instruction 
 and examination, as I conceived to be the most suitable 
 to his progressive state of mind. He improved much in 
 reading, carried his Bible constantly with him, and took 
 every opportunity, which his duty to his master's service 
 would allow, for perusing it. I have frequently had 
 occasion to observe, that amongst the truly religious poor, 
 who have not had the advantage of being taught to read 
 in early youth, a concern about the soul, and a desire to 
 
THE NEGEO SERVANT. 135 
 
 know the word of God, have proved effectual motives for 
 their learning to read with great ease and advantage to 
 themselves and others. It was strikingly so in the pre 
 sent case. 
 
 I had, for a considerable time, been accustomed to 
 meet some serious persons once a week, in a cottage at 
 no great distance from the house where he lived, for the 
 purpose of religious conversation, instruction, and prayer. 
 Having found these occasions remarkably useful and 
 interesting, I thought it would be very desirable to take 
 the JSTegro there, in order that there might be other wit- 
 nesses to the simplicity and sincerity of real Christianity, 
 as exhibited in the character of this promising young 
 convert. I hoped it might prove an eminent mean of 
 grace to excite and quicken the spirit of prayer and 
 praise amongst some of my parishioners, over whose 
 spiritual progress I' was anxiously watching. 
 
 I accordingly obtained his master's leave that he should 
 attend me to one of my cottage assemblies. His master, 
 who was thoroughly convinced of the extraordinary 
 change in conduct and disposition, which religion had 
 produced in his servant, was . pleased with my attention 
 to him, and always spoke well of his behaviour. 
 
 I set out on the day appointed for the interview. The 
 cottage at which we usually assembled, was near four 
 miles distance from my own residence : my road lay 
 along the foot of the hill mentioned in my last account 
 of the Negro, from the summit of which so luxuriant a 
 prospect was seen. On my right hand the steep acclivity 
 of the hill intercepted all prospect, except that of numer- 
 ous sheep feeding on its rich and plentiful produce. Here 
 and there the nearly perpendicular side of a chalk-pit 
 varied the surface of the hill, contrasting a dazzling 
 white to the sober green of the surrounding bank. 
 
 On the left hand, at the distance of near half a mile, 
 the tide flowed from the sea into a lake or haven of con- 
 
186 THE NEGEO SERVANT. 
 
 siderable length and breadth. At one end of it, fishing 
 and pilot vessels lay at anchor ; at the other appeared 
 the parish-chnrch amongst the adjoining woods and 
 fields. The bells were ringing ; a gently swelling sound 
 was brought along the surface of the water, and an echo 
 returned from a prominent part of the hill, beneath which 
 I was riding. The whole scene was delightful. 
 
 I passed some rural and beautifully situated cottages, 
 which seemed to be formed as fit residences for peace and 
 tranquillity ; each was surrounded by a garden, and each 
 had a little orchard or field adjacent, where the husband- 
 man's cow enjoyed her own pasture, and at the same 
 time prepared rich provision for her owner's family. 
 Such was the wise and considerate allotment which the 
 landlords and farmers had here made for the labouring 
 poor. The wholesome vegetable, the medicinal herb, 
 and the sweet-scented flower, intermingled as they grew 
 around those little dwellings; and reminded me, as I 
 looked upon them, how comfortable is the lot of the 
 industrious poor, whose hearts have learned the lesson 
 of gratitude, in the school of heavenly wisdom ! For 
 them, as mercifully as for their richest neighbour, the 
 sun shines, the rain descends, the earth brings forth her 
 increase, the flower blossoms, the birds sing ; their wants 
 are few, and contentment makes them less. How great 
 the blessing of being poor in this world, but rich in faith, 
 and a chosen inheritance in a better ! 
 
 I knew that this was the character of some whose 
 humble, but neat and cleanly cottages I passed. A few 
 such features in a prospect render it most lovely. Peace 
 be to their memory, both as pilgrims and strangers here ; 
 and as ransomed souls, whom I hope to meet in glory 
 hereafter I 
 
 The house to which I was travelling was situated at 
 the corner of an oak wood, which screened it both from 
 the burning heat of summer suns, and the heavy blasts 
 
THE NEGRO SERVANT. 137 
 
 of winter soutli-west storms. As I approached it, I saw 
 my friend the Negro sitting under a tree, and waiting 
 my arrival. He held in his hand a little tract which I 
 had given him ; his Bible lay on the ground. He rose 
 with much cheerfulness, saying, ''Ah! Massa, me very 
 glad to see you ; me tink you long time coming." 
 
 " "William, I hope you are well. I am going to take 
 you with me to a few of my friends, who, I trust, are 
 truly sincere in their religious pursuits. We meet every 
 Wednesday evening for conversation about the things 
 that belong to our everlasting peace, and I am sure you 
 will be a welcome visitor." 
 
 "Massa, me not goot enough to be with such goot 
 people. Me great sinner. Dey be goot Christian." 
 
 ''If you were to ask them, William, they would each 
 tell you they were worse than others. Many of them 
 were once, and that not very long ago, living in an 
 openly sinful manner, ignorant of God and the enemies 
 of Jesus Christ by thought and deed. But divine grace 
 stopped them in their wicked course, and subdued their 
 hearts to the love and obedience of him and his gospel. 
 You will only meet a company of poor fellow -sinners, 
 who love to speak and sing the praises of redeeming 
 love ; and I am sure, William, that is a song in which 
 you will be willing to join them." 
 
 "O ! yes. Sir, dat song just do for poor Negro." 
 
 By this time we had arrived at the cottage garden gute. 
 Several well-known faces appeared in and near the house^ 
 and the smile of affection welcomed us as we entered. It 
 was known that the Negro was to visit the little society 
 this evening, and satisfaction beamed in every counte- 
 nance, as I took him by the hand and introduced him 
 among them, saying, "I have brought a brother from 
 Africa to see you, my friends. Bid him welcome in the 
 name of the Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 " Sir," said an humble and pious labourer, whose heart 
 
 12 
 
138 THE KEGEO SEEVANT. 
 
 and tongue always overflowed with Christian kindness, 
 " we are at all times glad to see our dear Minister, but 
 especially so to-day in such company as you have brought 
 with you. We have heard how merciful the Lord has 
 been to him. Give me your hand, good friend (turning 
 to the Negro.) God be with you here and every where ; 
 and blessed be his holy name for calling sinners, as I 
 nope he has done you and me, to love and serve him for 
 nis mercy's sake." 
 
 Each one greeted him as he came into the house, and 
 some addressed him in very kind and impressive lan- 
 guage. 
 
 ''Ma^a," said he, "me not know what to say to all 
 dese goot friends : me tink dis look a little like heaven 
 apon earth." 
 
 He then with tears in his eyes, which almost, before 
 ne spoke, brought responsive drops into those of many 
 present, said, '' Goot friends and bredren in Christ Jesus, 
 Got bless you all, and bring you to heaven at de last." 
 
 It was my stated custom, when I met to converse with 
 those cottagers, to begin with prayer and reading a por- 
 tion of the Scriptures. 
 
 When this was ended, I told the people present, that 
 the providence of God had placed this young/ man for a 
 time under my ministry; and that, finding him seriously 
 disposed, and believing him to be very sincere in his 
 religious profession, I had resolved on baptizing him 
 agreeably to his own wishes. I added, that I had now 
 brought him with me to join in Christian conversation 
 with us ; for, as, in old times, they that feared the Lord 
 spake often one to another, in testimony that they 
 thought upon his name, (Mai. iii. 16,) so I hoped we 
 were fulfilling a Christian and brotherly duty in thus 
 assembling for mutual edification. 
 
 Addressing myself to the Negro, I said, "William, 
 tell me who made you ? " 
 
THE NEGRO SERVANT. 139 
 
 '' Got, de goot Fader." 
 
 " Who redeemed you ? " 
 
 '' JesuS; his dear Son, who died for me." 
 
 " Who sanctified yon ? " 
 
 ''The Holy Ghost, who teach me to know de goot 
 Fader, and his dear Son Jesus." 
 
 " What was your state by nature ? " 
 
 " Me wicked sinner, me know noting but sin, me do 
 noting but sin, my soul more black dan my body." 
 
 " Has any change taken place in you since then ? " 
 
 " Me hope so, Massa, but me sometime afraid no." 
 
 " If you are changed, who changed you ? " 
 ' Got de goot Fader ; Jesus his dear Son ; and Got de 
 Holy Spirit." 
 
 "How was any change brought about in you?" 
 
 ''Got make me a slave, when me was young little 
 boy." 
 
 "How, William, would you say, God made you a 
 slave?" 
 
 " No, Massa, no : me mean. Got let me be made slave 
 by white men, to do me goot." 
 
 " How to do you good ? " 
 
 " He take me from de land of darkness, and bring me 
 to de land of light." 
 
 "Which do you call the land of light ; the West India 
 Islands ? " 
 
 "JSTo, Massa, dey be de land of Providence, but America 
 be de land of light to me ; for dere me first hear goot 
 minister preach. And now dis place where I am now, 
 is de land of more light ; for here you teach, me more and 
 more and more how goot Jesus is to sinners." 
 
 " What does the blood of Christ do ? " 
 
 "Jt cleanse from all sin : and so me hope from my sin." 
 
 " Are then all men cleansed from sin by his blood ? " 
 
 " no, Massa." 
 
 " Who are cleansed and saved ? " 
 
140 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 " Dose dat have faith in him." 
 
 " Can you prove that out of the Bible ? " 
 
 '*Yes, Sir: 'He dat believeth on de Son, hath ever- 
 lasting life ; and he dat believeth not de Son, shall not 
 see life, but de wrath of Got abideth on him.' " (John 
 iii. 36.) 
 
 " What is it to have faith ? " 
 
 " Me suppose dat it is to tink much about Jesus Christ, 
 to love him much, to believe all he says to be true, to 
 pray to him very much ; and when we feel very weak 
 and very sinful, to tink dat he is very strong and very 
 goot, and all dat for my sake." 
 
 ^' And have you such a faith as you describe ? " 
 
 " Massa ! me tink sometime me have no faith at all." 
 
 ''Why so, William?" 
 
 "When me want to tink about Jesus Christ, my mind 
 run about after oder tings : when me want to love him, 
 my heart seem quite cold ; when me want to believe all 
 to be true what he says to sinners, me den tink it is not 
 true for me : when me want to pray, de devil put bat, 
 very bat toughts into me, and me never tank Christ 
 enough. I^ow all dis make me sometime afraid I have 
 no faith." 
 
 I observed a very earnest glow of attention and fellow- 
 feeling in some countenances present, as he spoke these 
 words. I then said, 
 
 " I think, William, I can prove that you have faith, 
 notwithstanding your fears to the contrary. Answer me 
 a few more questions. 
 
 "Did you begin to think yourself a great sinner, and 
 to feel the want of a Saviour, of your own self) and by 
 your own thought and doing ? " 
 
 " ! no ; it came to me, when me tink noting about 
 it, and seek noting about it." 
 
 " Who sent the good minister in America to awaken 
 vour soul by his preaching ? " 
 
THE NEGRO SERVANT. 141 
 
 'Got, very certainly." 
 
 '' Who then began the work of serious thought in your 
 mind?" 
 
 " De goot Got ; me could not do it of myself, me sure 
 of dat." 
 
 '' Do you not think that Jesus Christ and his salvation 
 is the one thing most needful and most desirable ? " 
 
 '' ! yes, me quite aure of dat." 
 
 "Do you not believe that he is able to save you?" 
 
 "Yes, he is able to save to de uttermost." 
 
 '' Do you think he is not willing to save you ? " 
 
 '' Me dare not say dat. He so goot, so merciful, so 
 kind, to say, he will in no wise cast out any dat come to 
 him." 
 
 " Do you wish, and desire, and strive to keep his com- 
 mandments ? " 
 
 '^ Yes, Massa, because me love him, and dat make me 
 want to do as he say." 
 
 " Are you willing to suffer for his sake, if God should 
 call you to do so ? " 
 
 '' Me do tink me could die for de love of him : he not 
 tink it too much to die for wicked sinner ; why should 
 wicked sinner tink it much to die for so goot and 
 righteous a Saviour ? " 
 
 "I think and hope I may say to you, William, thy 
 faith hath made thee whole." 
 
 Thus ended my 'examination for the present.' The 
 other friends who were in the house listened with the 
 most affectionate anxiety to all that passed. One of them 
 observed, not without evident emotion, 
 
 " I see. Sir, that though some men are white, and some 
 are black, true Christianity is all of one colour. My 
 own heart has gone with this good man every word he 
 has spoken." 
 
 " And so has mine," gently re-echoed from every part 
 of the room. 
 
142 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 After some time passed in more general conversation 
 on the subject of the Negro's histor}^, I said, ''Let ns 
 now praise God for the rich and unspeakable gift of his 
 gracC; and sing the h jmn of redeeming love : " — 
 
 Now begin the heavenly theme, 
 Sing aloud in Jesu's name, &c. 
 
 which was accordingly done. Whatever might be the 
 merit of the natural voices, it was evident there was 
 spiritual melody in all their hearts. 
 
 The Negro was not much used to our way of singing, 
 yet joined with great earnestness and affection, that' 
 showed how truly he felt what he uttered. When the 
 fifth verse was ended. 
 
 Nothing brought him from above, 
 Nothing but redeeming love ; 
 
 he repeated the words, almost unconscious where he was 
 "No, noting, noting but redeeming love, bring him 
 
 down to poor William ; noting but redeeming love." 
 The following verses were added, and sung by way of 
 
 conclusion : — 
 
 See, a stranger comes to view ; 
 Though he's black,* he's comely too; 
 Comes to join the choirs above, 
 Singing of redeeming love. 
 Welcome, Negro, welcome here, 
 Banish doubt and banish fear ; 
 You, who Christ's salvation prove, 
 Praise and bless redeeming love. 
 
 T concluded with some remarks on the nature of salva- 
 tion by grace, exhorting all present to press forward in 
 the heavenly journey. It was an evening, the circum- 
 stances of which, had they never been recorded on earth, 
 were yet doubtless registered in the book of remembrance 
 aboTC. 
 
 * Song of Solomon, i. 5. 
 
THE NEGEO SEEVANT. 143 
 
 I theji fixed the day for tlie baptism of the NegrO; and 
 so took leave of my little affectionate circle. 
 
 The moon shone bright as I returned home, and was 
 beautifully reflected from the waters of the lake : har- 
 mony and repose characterized the scene. I had just 
 been uniting in the praises of the God of grace and provi- 
 dence; and now the God of nature demanded a fresh 
 tribute of thanksgiving for the beauties and comforts of 
 creation : as David sang, " When I consider thy heavens 
 the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which 
 thou hast ordained : what is man that thou art mindful 
 of him, or the son of man that thou visitest him ? 
 
 In a few days the Negro was baptized ; and not long 
 after went on a voyage with his master. 
 
 Since that time I have not been able to hear any 
 tidings of him : whether he yet wander as a pilgrim in 
 this lower world, or whether he has joined the heavenly 
 choir in the song of " redeeming love " in glory, I know 
 not. This I do know, he was a monument to the Lord's 
 praise. He bore the impression of the Saviour's image 
 on his heart, and exhibited the marks of divine grace in 
 his life and conversation, with singular simplicity and 
 unfeigned sincerity. 
 
 Give to God the glory. 
 
 My interviews with the ISTegro suggested the following 
 lines, which are here subjoined, under the title of 
 
 THE NEGRO'S PRAYER 
 
 Jesus^ who mak'st the meanest soul 
 
 An object of thy care, 
 Attend to what my heart would speak — 
 
 Hear a poor Negro's prayer. 
 
Mi THE NEGEO SEE VAN T. 
 
 For thou, when bleeding on the cross, 
 My sins and griefs didst bear ; 
 
 Wherefore, my Lord, thou 'It not refuse 
 To hear the Negro's prayer. 
 
 I was a helpless Negro boy, 
 • That wander'd on the shore : 
 Thieves took me from my parents' arma- 
 They saw their child no more. 
 
 And yet the lot which seem'd so hard, 
 God's faithfulness did prove ; 
 
 For I was carried far from home, 
 To learn a Saviour's love. 
 
 Poor and despised though I was, 
 Thine arm, God I was nigh j 
 
 And when thy mercy first I knew, 
 Sure none so glad as I. 
 
 In ign'rance long my soul had dwelt, 
 
 A rebel bold I 'd been : 
 But thy great kindness, my God I 
 
 Sav'd me from all my sin. 
 
 Mine was a wretched state, expos'd 
 To men and angels' view ; 
 
 A slave to man, a slave to sin, 
 A slave to Satan too. 
 
 But if thy Son hath made me free, 
 
 Then am I free indeed ; 
 From powers of darkness, sin, and hell, 
 
 Thy love my soul has freed. 
 
 Lord, send thy word to that far land, 
 Where none but Negroes live : 
 
 Teach them the way, the truth, the life, 
 Which thou alone canst give. 
 
 1 that my father, mother dear. 
 Might there thy mercy see ; 
 
 Tell them what Christ has done for them. 
 What Christ has done for me. 
 
THE NEGRO SERVANT. 145 
 
 Whose God is like the Christian's God ? 
 
 Who can with him compare ? 
 He hath compassion on my soul, 
 
 And hears a Negro's prayer. 
 
 Lord Jesus, thou hast shed thy blood 
 
 For thousands such as me ; 
 Though some despise poor Negro slave, 
 
 I'm not despised by thee. 
 
 This is my heart's first wish below, 
 
 To prove thy constant care : 
 Keep me from sin and danger. Lord, 
 
 And hear a Negro's prayer. 
 
 In heaven the land of glory lies : 
 
 If I should enter there, 
 I '11 tell the Saints and Angels too, 
 
 Thou heard'st a Negro's prayer. 
 
 IS 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 147 
 
 THE 
 
 YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 PAKT I. 
 
 When a serious Christian turns Ms attention to the 
 barren state of the wilderness through which he is travel- 
 ling, frequently must he heave a sigh for the sins and 
 sorrows of his fellow-mortals. The renewed heart thirsts 
 with holj desire, that the Paradise which was lost through 
 Adam, may be fully regained in Christ. But the over- 
 flowings of sin within and without, the contempt of 
 sacred institutions, the carelessness of soul, the pride of 
 unbelief, the eagerness of sensual appetite, the ambition 
 for worldly greatness, and the deep-rooted enmity of the 
 carnal heart against God ; these things are as '' the fiery 
 serpents, and scorpions, and drought," which distress his 
 soul, as he journeys through ''that great and terrible 
 wilderness." 
 
 Sometimes, like a solitary pilgrim, he " weeps in secret 
 places," and "rivers of waters run down his eyes, be- 
 cause men keep not the law of God." 
 
 Occasionally he meets with a few fellow-travellers, 
 whose spirit is congenial with his own, and with whom 
 he can take "sweet counsel together." They comfort 
 and strengthen each other by the way. Each can relate 
 something of the mercies of his God, and how kindly 
 they have been dealt with, as they travelled onwards. 
 
148 THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 
 
 The dreariness of the path is thus beguiled, and now and 
 then, for a while, happy experiences of the divine conso- 
 lations cheer their souls; ''the wilderness and the solitary 
 place is glad for them ; the desert rejoices and blossoms 
 as the rose." 
 
 But even at the very time when the Christian is taught 
 to feel the peace of God which passeth all understanding, 
 to trust that he is personally interested in the blessings 
 of salvation, and to believe that God will promote his 
 own glory by glorifying the penitent sinner ; yet sorrows 
 will mingle with his comforts, and he will rejoice not 
 without trembling, when he reflects on the state of other 
 men. The anxieties connected with earthly relations 
 are all alive in his soul, and, through the operation of 
 the Spirit of God, become sanctified principles and 
 motives for action. As the husband and father of a 
 family, as the neighbour of the poor, the ignorant, the 
 wicked, and the wretched; above all, as the spiritual 
 overseer of the flock, if such be his holy calling, the 
 heart which has been taught to feel for its own case, will 
 abundantly feel for others. 
 
 But when he attempts to devise means in order to stem 
 the torrent of iniquity, to instruct the ignorant, and to 
 convert the sinner from the error of his way, he cannot 
 help crying out, " "Who is sufl&cient for these things ? " 
 Unbelief pauses over the question, and trembles. But 
 faith quickly revives the inquirer with the cheering 
 assurance, that "our sufficiency is of God," and saith, 
 "■ Commit thy way unto the Lord, and he shall bring it 
 to pass." 
 
 When he is thus affectionately engaged for the good 
 of mankind, he will become seriously impressed with the 
 necessity of early attentions to the young in particular. 
 Many around him are grown gray-headed in sin, and 
 give but little prospect of amendment. Many of the 
 parents and heads of families arc so eagerly busied in 
 
THE YOUKG COTTAGE E. 149 
 
 the profits, pleasures, and occupations of the world, that 
 they heed not the warning voice of their instructor. 
 Many of their elder children are launching out into life, 
 headstrong, unruly, ''earthly, sensual, devilish ;" they 
 likewise treat the wisdom of God, as if it were foolish- 
 ness. But, under these discouragements, we may often 
 turn with hope to the very young, to the little ones of 
 the flock, and endeavour to teach them to sing Hosannas 
 to the Son of David, before their minds are wholly 
 absorbed in the world and its allurements. "We may 
 trust that a blessing shall attend such labours, if under- 
 taken in faith and simplicity, and that some at least of 
 our youthful disciples, like Josiah, while they are yet 
 young, may begin to seek after the. God of their fathers. 
 
 Such an employment, especially when blessed by any 
 actual instances of real good produced, enlivens the 
 mind with hope, and fills it with gratitude. We are 
 thence led to trust that the next generation may become 
 more fruitful unto God than the present, and the church 
 of Christ be replenished with many such as have been 
 called into the vineyard '' early in the morning." And 
 should our endeavours for a length of time apparently 
 fail of success, yet we ought not to despair. Early 
 impressions and convictions of conscience have sometimes 
 lain dormant for years, and at last revived into gracious 
 existence and maturity. It was not said in vain, " Train 
 up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old 
 he will not depart from it." 
 
 ^Vhat a gratifying occupation is it to an affectionate 
 mind, even in a way of nature, to walk through the 
 fields, and lead a little child by the hand, enjoying his 
 infantine prattle, and striving to improve the time by 
 some kind word of instruction I I wish that every 
 Christian pilgrim in the way of grace, as he walks 
 through the Lord's pastures, would try to lead at least 
 one little child by the hand ; and perhaps while he is 
 
150 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 endeavouring to guide and preserve liis young and feeble 
 companion, the Lord will recompense liim doulile for all 
 his careS; by comforting his own heart in the attempt 
 The experiment is worth the trial. It is supported by 
 this recollection: "The Lord will come with strong 
 hand; and his arm shall rule for him. Behold his reward 
 is with him, and his work before him. He shall feed his 
 flock like a shepherd, he shall gather the lambs with his 
 arms, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead 
 those that are with young J'' 
 
 I shall plead no further apology for introducing to the 
 notice of my readers a few particulars relative to a young 
 female Cottager, whose memory is particularly endeared 
 to me, from the circumstance of her being, so far as I can 
 trace or discover, my firstborn spiritual child in the 
 ministry of the gospel. She was certainly the first, of 
 whose conversion to God under my own pastoral instruc- 
 tion, I can speak with precision and assurance. 
 
 Every parent of a family knows that there is a very 
 interesting emotion of heart connected with the birth of 
 his firstborn child. Energies and affections to which the 
 mind has hitherto been almost a stranger, begin to unfold 
 themselves and expand into active existence, when he 
 first is hailed as a father. But may not the spiritual 
 parent be allowed the possession and indulgence of a 
 similar sensation in his connexion with the children 
 whom the Lord gives him, as begotten through the 
 ministry of the word of life? If the firstborn child in 
 nature be received as a new and acceptable blessii^g; 
 how much more so the firstborn child in grace ! I claim 
 this privilege; and crave permission, in writing Avhat 
 follows, to erect a monumental record, sacred to the 
 memory of a dear little child, who, I trust, will at the 
 last day prove my crown of rejoicing. 
 
 Jane S was the daughter of poor parents, in the 
 
 village where it pleased God first to cast my lot in the 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE K. 151 
 
 ministry. My acquaintance with lier commenced, when 
 she was twelve years of age, by her weekly attendance 
 at my house amongst a number of children whom I 
 invited and regularly instructed every Saturday after- 
 noon. 
 
 They used to read, repeat catechisms, psalms, hymns, 
 and portions of scripture. I accustomed them also to 
 pass a kind of free conversational examination, accord- 
 ing to their age and ability, in those subjects by which I 
 hoped to see them made wise unto salvation. 
 
 On the summer evenings I frequently used to assemble 
 this little group out of doors in my garden, sitting under 
 the shade of some trees, which protected us from the 
 heat of the sun. From hence a scene appeared which 
 rendered my occupation the more interesting : for adjoin- 
 ing the spot where we sat, and only separated from us 
 by a fence, was the church-yard, surrounded with beau- 
 tiful prospects m every direction. 
 
 There lay the mortal remains of thousands, who from 
 age to age, in their different generations, had been suc- 
 cessively committed to the grave, " earth to earth, ashes 
 to ashes, dust to dust." Here the once-famed ancestors 
 of the rich, and the less known forefathers of the poor, 
 lay mingling their dust together, and alike waiting the 
 resurrection from the dead. 
 
 I had not far to look for subjects of warning and 
 exhortation suitable to my little flock of lambs that I 
 was feeding. I could point to the heaving sods that 
 marked the different graves, and separated them from each 
 other, and tell my pupils, that, young as they were, none 
 of them were too young to die ; and that probably more 
 than half of the bodies which were buried there, were 
 those of little children. I hence took occasion to speak 
 of the nature and value of a soul, and to ask them where 
 they expected their souls to go when they departed hence 
 and were no more seen on earth. 
 
152 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 I told them Avho was ''the resurrection and the life," 
 and who alone could take away the sting of death. I 
 used to remind them that the hour was " coming, in the 
 which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice, and 
 shall come forth; they that have done good unto the 
 resurrection of life; and they that have done evil unto 
 the resurrection of damnation." I often availed myself 
 of these opportunities to call to their recollection the 
 more recent deaths of their own relatives, that lay buried 
 so near us. Some had lost a parent, others a brother or 
 sister; some perhaps had lost all these, and were com- 
 mitted to the mercy of their neighbours, as fatherless 
 and motherless orphans. Such circumstances were occa- 
 sionally useful to excite tender emotions, favourable to 
 serious impression^ 
 
 Sometimes, I sent the children to the various stones 
 whicli stood at the. head of the graves, and bid them 
 learn the epitaphs inscribed upon them. 'I took pleasure 
 in seeing the little ones thus dispersed in the church- 
 yard, each committing to memory a few verses written 
 in commemoration of the departed. They would soon 
 accomplish the desired object, and eagerly return to me 
 ambitious to repeat their task. 
 
 Thus my churchyard became a book of instruction, 
 and every grave-stone a leaf of edification for my young 
 disciples. 
 
 The church itself stood in the midst of the ground. 
 It was a spacious antique structure. 
 
 Within those very walls I first proclaimed the message 
 of God to sinners. As these children surrounded me, I 
 sometimes pointed to the church, spoke to them of the 
 nature of public worship, the value of the Sabbath, the 
 duty of regular attendance on its services, and urged 
 their serious attention to the means of grace. I showed 
 them the sad state of many countries, where neither 
 churches nor bibles were known; and the no less melan- 
 
THE YOUKG COTTAGER. 153 
 
 clioly condition of multitudes at home, who sinfully 
 neglect worship, and slight the Word of God. I thus 
 tried to make them sensible of their own favours and 
 privileges. 
 
 Neither was I at a loss for another class of objects 
 around me, from which I could draw useful instruction : 
 for many of the beauties of created nature appeared in 
 view. 
 
 Eastward of us extended a large river or lake of sea- 
 water, chiefly formed by the tide, and nearly enclosed by 
 land. Beyond this was a fine bay and road for ships, 
 filled with vessels of every size, from the small sloop or 
 cutter to the first-rate man of war. On the right hand 
 of the haven rose a hill of peculiarly beautiful form and 
 considerable height. Its verdure was very rich, and 
 many hundred sheep grazed upon its sides and summit. 
 From the opposite shore of the same water a large 
 sloping extent of bank was diversified with fields, woods, 
 hedges, and cottages. At its extremity stand, close to 
 the edge of the sea itself, the remains of the tower of an 
 ancient church, still preserved as a sea-mark. Far 
 beyond the bay, a very distant shore was observable, 
 and land beyond it; trees, towns, and other buildings, 
 appeared, more especially when gilded by the reflected 
 rays of the sun. 
 
 To the south-westward of the garden was another 
 down covered also with flocks of sheep, and a portion of 
 it fringed with trees. 
 
 At the foot of this hill lay the village, a part of which 
 gradually ascended to the rising ground on which the 
 church stood. 
 
 From the intermixture of houses with gardens, orch- 
 ards, and trees, it presented a very pleasing aspect. 
 Several fields adjoined the garden on the east and north, 
 where a number of cattle were pasturing. My own little 
 shrubberies and flower-beds variegated the view, and 
 
154 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 recompensed my toil in rearing tliem, as well by their 
 beauty as their fragrance. 
 
 Had the sweet Psalmist of Israel sat in this spot, lie 
 would have glorified God the Creator by descanting on. 
 these his handy works. I cannot write psalms like 
 David ; but I wish in my own poor way to praise the 
 Lord for his goodness, and to show forth his wonderful 
 works to the children of men. But had David been also 
 surrounded with a troop of young scholars in such a 
 situation, he would once more have said, " Out of the 
 mouths of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained 
 strength." 
 
 I love to retrace these scenes — they are past, but the 
 recollection- is sweet. 
 
 I love to retrace them — for they bring to my mind 
 many former mercies, which ought not, for the Lord's 
 sake, to be forgotten. 
 
 I love to retrace them — for they re-assure me that, in 
 the course of that private ministerial occupation, God 
 was pleased to give me so valuable a fruit of my labours. 
 
 Little Jane used constantly to appear on these weekly 
 seasons of instruction. I made no very particular obser- 
 vations concerning her during the first twelve months 
 or more after her commencement of attendance. She 
 was not then remarkable for any peculiar attainment. 
 On the whole, I used to think her rather more slow of 
 apprehension than most of her companions. She usually 
 repeated her tasks correctly, but seldom was able to 
 make answers to questions for which she was not pre- 
 viously prepared with replies — a kind of extempore 
 examination in which some of the children excelled. Her 
 countenance was not engaging, her eye discovered no 
 remarkable liveliness. She read tolerably well, took 
 pains, and improved in it. 
 
 Mildness and quietness marked her general demeanour. 
 She was verj* constant in her attendance on public wor- 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE K. 155 
 
 ship at the cliurcli; as well as on my Saturday iDstruction 
 at home. But, generally speaking, she was little noticed, 
 except for her regular and orderly conduct. Had I then 
 been asked, of which of my young scholars I had formed 
 the most favourable opinion, poor Jane might probably 
 have been altogether omitted in the list. 
 
 How little do we oftentimes know what God is doing 
 in other people's hearts! What poor calculators and 
 judges we frequently prove, till he opens our eyes ! His 
 thoughts are not our thoughts ; neither are our ways his 
 ways. 
 
 Once indeed, during the latter part of that year, I was 
 struck with her ready attention to my wishes. I had, 
 agreeably to the plan above mentioned, sent her into the 
 churchyard to commit to memory an epitaph which I 
 admired. On her return she told me, that, in addition 
 to what I had desired, she had also learned another, 
 which was inscribed on an adjoining stone ; adding, that 
 she thought it a very pretty one. 
 
 I thought so too, and perhaps my readers will be of 
 the same opinion. Little Jane, though dead, yet shall 
 ipeak. While I transcribe the lines, I can powerfully 
 imagine that I hear her voice repeating them ; the idea 
 is exceedingly gratifying to me. 
 
 EPITAPH ON MBS. A. B. 
 
 Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear, 
 
 That mourns thy exit from a world like this ; 
 
 Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here, 
 And stay'd thy progress to the seats of bliss. 
 
 No more confined to grov'ling scenes of night, 
 
 No more a tenant pent in mortal clay, 
 Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight, 
 
 And trace thy journey to the realms of day. 
 
156 
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 " The above was her appointed task; and the other 
 which she voluntarily learned and spoke of with pleasure, 
 is this : 
 
 EPITAPH ON THE STONE ADJOINING. 
 
 It must be so — Our father Adam's fall 
 And disobedience, brought this lot on all. 
 All die in him — But hopeless should we be, 
 Blest Revelation ! were it not for thee. 
 Hail, glorious Gospel 1 heavenly light, whereby 
 We live with comfort, and-with comfort die ; 
 And view beyond this gloomy scene, the tomb 
 A life of endless happiness to come. 
 
 I afterwards discovered that the sentiment expressed 
 in the latter epitaph had much affected her. But at the 
 period of this little incident, I knew nothing of her mind. 
 I had comparatively overlooked her. I have often been 
 sorry for it since. Conscience seemed to rebuke me, 
 when I afterwards discovered what the Lord had been 
 doing for her soul, as if I had neglected her. Yet it was 
 not done designedly. She was unknown to us all ; 
 except that, as I since found out, her regularity and 
 abstinence from the sins and follies of her young equals 
 in age and station brought upon her many taunts and 
 jeers from others, which she bore very meekly. But at 
 that time I knew it not. 
 
 I was young myself in the ministry, and younger in 
 Christian experience. My parochial plans had not as 
 yet assumed such a principle of practical order and 
 inquiry, as to make me acquainted with the character 
 and conduct of each family and individual in my flock. 
 
 I was then quite a learner, and had much to learn. 
 
 And what am I now ? — A learner still : and if I have 
 learned any thing, it is this, that I. have every day more 
 and more yet to learn. Of this I am certain ; that my 
 young scholar soon became my teacher. I first saw what 
 true religion could accomplish, in witnessing her expe- 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE B. 157 
 
 rience of it. The Lord once " called a little child unto 
 him, and set him in the midst of his disciples," as an 
 emblem and an illustration of his doctrine. But the 
 Lord did more in the case of little Jane. He not only 
 called her, as a child, to show by a similitude, what 
 conversion means : but he also called her by his grace 
 to be a vessel of mercy and a living witness of that 
 almighty power and love by which her own heart was 
 turned to God. 
 
 PART IL 
 
 Theee is no illustration of the nature and character of 
 the Redeemer's kingdom on earth which is more grate- 
 ful to contemplation, than that of the shepherd and his 
 flock. Imagination has been accustomed from our 
 earliest childhood to wander amongst the fabled retreats 
 of the Arcadian shepherds. We have probably often 
 delighted ourselves in our own native country, by wit- 
 nessing the interesting occupation of the pastoral scene. 
 The shepherd, tending his flock on the side of some 
 spacious hill, or in the hollow of a sequestered valley : 
 folding them at night, and guarding them against all 
 danger ; leading them from one pasture to another, or for 
 refreshment to the cooling waters— these objects have 
 met and gratified our eyes, as we travelled through the 
 fields, and sought out creation's God amidst creation's 
 beauties. The poet and the painter have each lent their 
 aid to cherish our delight in these imaginations. Many 
 a descriptive verse has strengthened our attachment to 
 the pastoral scene, and many a well-wrought picture has 
 occasioned it to glow like a reality in our ideas. 
 
 But far more impressively than these causes can 
 possibly efiect, has the Word of God endeared the subject 
 to our hearts, and sanctified it to Christian experience. 
 
 14 
 
158 THE YOFI^G CO TT A GEE. 
 
 Who does not look back witli love and veneration to 
 those days of holy simplicity, when the patriarchs of the 
 church of God lived in tents and watched their flocks ? 
 With what a strength and beauty of allusion do the 
 Prophets refer to the intercourse between the shepherd 
 and flock for an illustration of the Saviour's kingdom on 
 earth ! The Psalmist rejoiced in the consideration that 
 the Lord was his Shepherd, and that therefore he 
 should not want. The Eedeemer himself assumed this 
 interesting title, and declared that "his sheep hear his 
 voice, he knows them and they follow him, and he gives 
 unto them eternal life." 
 
 Perhaps at no previous moment was this comparison 
 ever expressed so powerfully, as when his risen Lord 
 gave the pastoral charge to the lately offending but now 
 penitent disciple, saying, '- Feed my sheep." Every 
 principle of grace, mercy, and peace, met together on 
 that occasion. Peter had thrice denied his Master : his 
 Master now thrice asked him, " Lovest thou me ? " Peter 
 each time appealed to his own, or to his Lord's conscious- 
 ness of what he felt within his heart. As often Jesus 
 committed to his care the flock which he had purchased 
 with his blood. And that none might be forgotten, he 
 not ODly said, "Feed my sheep," but, "Feed my lambs," 
 also. 
 
 May every instructor of the young keep this injunc- 
 tion enforced on his conscience and affections I — I return 
 to little Jane . 
 
 It was about fifteen months from the first period of 
 her attendance on my Saturday school, when I missed 
 her from her customary place. Two or three weeks had 
 gone by, without my making any particular enquiry 
 respecting her. I was at length informed that she wj^s 
 not well. But, apprehending no peculiar cause for alarm, 
 nearly two months passed away without any further 
 mention of her name being made. 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 159 ' 
 
 At length a poor old woman in the village, of whose 
 religious disposition I had formed a good opinion^ came 
 
 and said to me, " Sir, have you not missed Jane S 
 
 at your house on Saturday afternoons ? " 
 
 'Yes," I replied, ''I believe she is not well." 
 
 ''I^or ever will be, I fear," said the woman. 
 
 " What ! do you apprehend any danger in the case ? " 
 
 " Sir, she is very poorly indeed, and I think is in a 
 decline. She wants to see you, Sir; but is afraid you 
 would not come to see such a poor young child as 
 she is." 
 
 "Not go, where poverty and sickness may call me! 
 how can she imagine so ? at which house does she live ? " 
 
 "Sir, it is a poor place, and she is ashamed to ask you 
 to come there. Her near neighbours are noisy, wicked 
 people, and her own father and mother are strange folks. 
 They all make game at poor Jenny, because she reads 
 her Bible so much." 
 
 " Do not tell me about poor places, and wicked people ; 
 that is the very situation where a Minister of the gospel 
 is called to do the most good. I shall go to see her ; you 
 may let her know my intention." 
 
 "I will. Sir; I go in most days to speak to her, and it 
 does one's heart good to hear her talk." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said I : " what does she talk about ? " 
 
 "Talk about, poor thing! why, nothing but good 
 things, such as the Bible, and Jesus Christ, and life, and 
 death, and her soul, and heaven, and hell, and your 
 discourses, and the books you used to teach her, Sir. 
 Her father says he'll have no such godly doings in his 
 house ; and her own mother scoffs at her, and says she 
 supposes Jenny counts herself better than other folks. 
 But she does not mind all that. She will read her books, 
 and then talk so pretty to her mother, and beg that she 
 would think about her soul." 
 
 ""The Lord forgive me," thought I, "for not being 
 
160 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 more attentive to this poor child's case." I seemed to 
 feel the importance of infantine instruction more than 
 ever I had done before, and felt a rising hope that this 
 girl might prove a kind of first fruits of my labours. 
 
 I now recollected her quiet, orderly, diligent attend- 
 ance on our little weekly meetings; and her marked 
 approbation of the epittiph, as related in my last paper, 
 rushed into my thoughts. "I hope, I really hope," said 
 I, " this dear child will prove a true child of God. And 
 if so, what a mercy to her, and what a mercy for me ! " 
 
 The next morning I went to see the child. Her 
 dwelling was of the humblest kind. It stood against a 
 high bank of earth, which formed a sort of garden behind 
 it. It was so steep that but little would grow in it ; yet 
 that little served to show not only, on the one hand, the 
 poverty of its owners, but also to illustrate the happy 
 truth, that even in the worst of circumstances the Lord 
 does make a kind provision for the support of his crea- 
 tures. The front aspect of the cottage was chiefly ren- 
 dered pleasing, by a honeysuckle, which luxuriantly 
 climbed up the wall, enclosing the door, windows, and 
 even the chimney, with its twining branches. As I 
 entered the house-door, its flowers put forth a very sweet 
 and refreshing smell. Intent on tlie object of my visit, 
 I at the same moment offered up silent prayer to God, 
 and entertained a hope, that the welcome fragrance of 
 the shrub might be illustrative of that all-prevailing 
 intercession of a Eedeemer, which I trusted was, in the 
 case of this little child, as " a sweet-smelling savour " to 
 her heavenly Father. The very flowers and leaves of 
 the garden and field are emblematical of higher things, 
 when grace teaches us to make them so. 
 
 Jane was in bed up stairs. I found no one in the 
 house with her, except the woman who had brought me 
 the message on the evening before. The instant I looked 
 on the girl I perceived a very marked change in her 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 161 
 
 countenance: it liad acquired the consumptive hue, both 
 white and red. A delicacy unknown to it before quite 
 surprised me, owing to the alteration it produced in her 
 look. She received me first with a very sweet smile, 
 and then instantly burst into a flood of tears, just sobbing 
 out, 
 
 " I am so glad to see you. Sir." 
 
 "I am very much concerned at your being so ill, my 
 child, and grieved that I was not sooner aware of your 
 state. But I hope the Lord designs it for your good." 
 Her eye, not her tongue, powerfully expressed, " I hope 
 and think he does." 
 
 " Well, my poor child, since you can no longer come 
 to see me, I will come and see you, and we will talk over 
 the subjects which I have been used to explain to you." 
 
 '' Indeed, Sir, I shall be so glad." 
 
 ' That I believe she will," said the woman; ''for she 
 loves to talk of nothing so much as what she has heard 
 you say in your sermons, and in the books you have 
 given her." 
 
 " Are you really desirous, my dear child, to be a true 
 Christian?" 
 
 "O! yes, yes, Sir; I am sure I desire that above all 
 things." 
 
 I was astonished and delighted at the earnestness and 
 simplicity with which she spoke these words. 
 
 '' Sir," added she, " I have been thinking as I lay on 
 my bed for many weeks past, how good you are to 
 instruct us poor children ; what must become of us with- 
 out it?" 
 
 "I am truly glad to perceive that my instructions 
 have not been lost upon you, and pray God that this 
 your present sickness may be an instrument of blessing 
 in his hands to prove, humble, and sanctify you. My 
 dear child, you have a soul, an immortal soul to think 
 of; you remember what I have often said to you about 
 
 14* 
 
162 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 the value of a soul : ' What would it profit a man to 
 gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ? ' " 
 
 ''Yes, Sir, I remember well you told us,^ that when 
 our bodies are put into the grave, our souls will then go 
 either to the good or the bad place." 
 
 " And to which of these places do you think that, as a 
 sinner in the sight of God, you deserve to go ? " 
 
 ''To the bad one, Sir." 
 
 " What, to everlasting destruction ? " 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Becanse I am a great sinner." 
 
 " And must all great sinners go to hell ? " 
 
 " They all deserve it ; and I am sure I do." 
 
 ' But is there no way of escape ? Is there no way for 
 a great sinner to be saved ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sir, Christ is the Saviour." 
 
 " And whom does he save ? " 
 
 "All believers." 
 
 "And do you believe in Christ yourself? " 
 
 " I do not know, Sir : I wish I did ; but I feel that I 
 love him." 
 
 " What do you love him for ? " 
 
 "Because he is good to poor children's souls like 
 mine." 
 
 " What has he done for you ? " 
 
 " He died for me. Sir ; and what could he do more ? " 
 
 " And what do you hope to gain by his death ? " 
 
 "A good place when I die, if I believe in him, and 
 love him." 
 
 "Have you felt any uneasiness on account of your 
 soul?" 
 
 '• ! yes. Sir, a great deal. When you used to talk to 
 us children on Saturdays, I often felt as if I could hardly 
 bear it, and wondered that others could seem so careless. 
 I thought I was not fit to die. I thought of all the bad 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE K. 163 
 
 things I had ever done and said, and believed God must 
 be very angry with me ; for you often told us, that God 
 would not be mocked ; and that .Christ said, if we were 
 not converted we could not go to heaven. Sometimes I 
 thought I was so young it did not signify: and then 
 again it seemed to me a great sin to think so : for I knew 
 I was old enough to see what was right and what was 
 wrong ; and so God had a just right to be angry when I 
 did wrong. Besides, I could see that my heart was not 
 right : and how could such a heart be fit for heaven ? 
 Indeed, Sir, I used to feel very uneasy." 
 
 '' My dear Jenny, I wish I had known all this before. 
 "Why did you never tell me about it ? " 
 
 " Sir, I durst not. Indeed, I could not well say what 
 was the matter with me : and I thought you would look 
 upon me as very bold if I had spoke about myself to 
 such a gentleman as you : yet I often wished that you 
 knew what I felt and feared. Sometimes, as we went 
 away from your house, I could not help crying ; and then 
 the other children laughed and jeered at me, and said I 
 was going to be very good they supposed, or at least to 
 make people think so. Sometimes, Sir, I fancied you 
 did not think so well of me as of the rest, and that hurt 
 me ; yet I knew I deserved no particular favour, because 
 I was the chief of sinners." 
 
 ^' My dear, what made St. Paul say he was the chief 
 of sinners ? In what verse of the Bible do you find this 
 expression, * the chief of sinners : ' can you repeat it ? " 
 
 '^ This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all accepta- 
 tion, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sin- 
 ners : — is not that right. Sir ? " 
 
 '' Yes, my child, it is right ; and I hope that the same 
 conviction which St. Paul had at that moment, has made 
 you sensible of the same truth. Christ came into the 
 world to save sinners; my dear child, remember now 
 
164 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 and for evermore that Christ came into the world to save 
 the chief of sinners." 
 
 " Sir, I am so glad he did. It makes me hope that he 
 will save me, though I am a poor sinful girl. Sir, I am 
 very ill, and I do not think I shall ever get well again. 
 I want to go to Christ, if I die." 
 
 " Go to Christ while you live, my dear child, and he 
 will not cast you away when you die. He that said, 
 'Suffer little children to come unto me,' Waits to be 
 gracious to them, and forbids them not. 
 
 "What made you first think so seriously about the 
 state of your soul ? " 
 
 "Your talking about the graves in the churchyard, 
 and telling us how many young children were buried 
 there. I remember you said, one day, near twelve 
 months ago, ' Children ! where will you be an hundred 
 years hence ? Children ! where do you think you shall 
 go when you die ? Children ! if you were to die to- 
 night, are you sure you should go to Christ and be 
 happy ? ' Sir, I shall never forget your saying ' Children,' 
 three times together in that solemn way." 
 
 " Did you never before that day feel any desire about 
 your soul ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sir ; I think I first had that desire almost as 
 soon as you began to teach us on Saturday afternoons ; 
 but on that day I felt as I never did before. I shall 
 never forget it. All the way as I went home, and d^\ 
 that night, those words were in my thoughts : ' Children ! 
 where do you think you shall go, when you die ? ' I 
 thought I must leave off all my bad ways, or where 
 should I go when I died? " 
 
 " And what effect did these thoughts produce in your 
 mind?" 
 
 "Sir, I tried to live better, and I did leave off many 
 '-.ad ways; but the more I strove, the more difiicult I 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 165 
 
 found it, my heart seemed so hard : and then I could not 
 tell any one my case." 
 
 "Could not you tell it to the Lord, who hears and 
 answers prayer ? " 
 
 " My prayers (here she blushed and sighed) are very 
 poor at the best, and at that time I scarcely knew how 
 to pray at all, as I ought. But I did sometimes ask the 
 Lord for a better heart." 
 
 There was a character in all this conversation which 
 marked a truly sincere and enlightened state of mind. 
 She spoke with all the simplicity of a child, and yet the 
 seriousness of a Christian. I could scarcely persuade 
 myself that she was the same girl I had been accustomed 
 to see in past time. Her countenance was filled with 
 interesting affections, and always spoke much more than 
 her tongue could utter. At the same time she now 
 possessed an ease and liberty in speaking, to which she 
 had formerly been a stranger: nevertheless she was 
 modest, humble, and unassuming. Her readiness to 
 converse was the result of spiritual anxiety, not childish 
 forwardness. The marks of a divine change were too 
 prominent to be easily mistaken ; and in this very child, 
 I, for the first time, witnessed the evident testimonies of 
 such a change. How encouraging, how profitable to my 
 own soul ! 
 
 ''Sir," continued little Jane, "I had one day been 
 thinking that I was neither fit to live nor die : for I could 
 find no comfort in this world, and I was sure I deserved 
 none in the other. On that day you sent me to learn 
 
 the verse on Mrs. B 's headstone, and then I read 
 
 that on the one next to it." 
 
 " I very well remember it, Jenny ; you came back, 
 and repeated them both to me." 
 
 "There were two lines in it which made me think 
 and meditate a great deal." 
 
 "Which were they?" 
 
166 THE YOUNG COTTAGEE. 
 
 Hail, glorious Gospel, heavenly liglit, whereby 
 We live with comfort, and with comfort die." 
 
 I wished that glorious gospel was mine; that I might 
 live and die with comfort ; and it seemed as if I thought 
 it would be so. I never felt so happy in all my life 
 before. The words were often in my thoughts, 
 
 * Live with comfort, and with comfort die.' 
 
 'Glorious gospel' indeed! I thought. 
 
 " My dear child, what is the meaning of the word 
 gospel ? " 
 
 ^'Good news." 
 
 " Good news for whom ? " 
 
 " For wicked sinners, Sir." 
 
 " Who sends this good news for wicked sinners ?" 
 
 ^' The Lord Almighty..' 
 
 '' And who brings this good news ? " 
 
 " Sir, you brought it to we." 
 
 Here my soul melted in an instant, and I could not 
 repress the tears which the emotion excited. The last 
 answer was equally unexpected and affecting. I felt a 
 father's tenderness and gratitude for a new and firstborn 
 child. 
 
 Jane wept likewise. 
 
 After a little pause she said, 
 
 ' Sir I I wish you would speak to my father, and 
 mother, and little brother ; for I am afraid they are going 
 on very badly. 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " Sir, they drink, and swear, and quarrel, and do not 
 like what is good : and it does grieve me so, I cannot 
 bear it. If I speak a word to them about it, they are 
 very angry, and laugh, and bid me be quiet, and not set 
 up for their teacher. Sir, I am ashamed to tell you this 
 of them, but I hope it is not wrong ; I mean it for their 
 good." 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 167 
 
 " I wish your prayers and endeavours for tlieir sake 
 may be blessed : I will also do what I can." 
 
 I then prayed with the child, and promised to visit her 
 constantly. 
 
 As I returned home, my heart was filled with thank- 
 fulness for what I had seen and heard. Little Jane 
 appeared to be a first fruits of my parochial and spiritual 
 harvest. This thought greatly comforted and strength- 
 ened me in my ministerial prospects. 
 
 My partiality to the memory of little Jane will pro- 
 bably induce me to lay some further particulars before 
 the reader. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Divine grace educates the reasoning faculties of the soul, 
 as well as the best affections of the heart ; and happily 
 consecrates them both to the glory of the Redeemer. 
 Neither the disadvantages of poverty nor the inexpe- 
 rience of childhood are barriers able to resist the mighty 
 influence of the Spirit of God, when "he goeth forth 
 where he listeth." — ''God hath chosen the foolish things 
 of this world to confound the wise ; and God hath chosen 
 the weak things of the world, to confound the things 
 which are mighty." The truth of this scriptural asser- 
 tion was peculiarly evident in the case of my young 
 parishioner. 
 
 Little Jane's illness was of a lingering nature. I often 
 visited her. The soul of this young Christian was 
 gradually, but effectually, preparing for heaven. I have 
 seldom witnessed in any older person, under similar 
 circumstances, stronger marks of earnest enquiry, con- 
 tinual seriousness, and holy affections. One morning, as 
 I was walking through the churchyard, in my way to 
 visit her, I stopped to look at the cpitapli which had 
 
168 THE YOUNG COTTAGEE. 
 
 made such a deep impression on her mind. I was struck 
 with the reflection of the important consequences which 
 might result from a more frequent and judicious atten- 
 tion to the inscriptions placed in our burying-grounds, 
 as memorials of the departed. The idea occurred to my 
 thoughts; that as the two stone tables given by God to 
 Moses were once a mean of communicating to the Jews 
 from age to age, the reyelation of God's will as concern- 
 ing the law ; so these funeral tables of stone may, under 
 a better dispensation, bear a never-failing proclamation 
 of God's good-will to sinners as revealed in the gospel 
 of his grace, from generation to generation. I have 
 often lamented, when indulging a contemplation among 
 the graves, that some of the inscriptions were coarse and 
 ridiculous ; others, absurdly flattering ; many, expressive 
 of sentiments at variance with the true principles of the 
 word of God; not a few, barren and unaccompanied 
 with a single word of useful instruction to the reader. 
 Thus a very important opportunity of conveying scrip- 
 tural admonition is lost. I wish that every grave-stone 
 might not only record the names of our deceased friends, 
 but also proclaim the name of Jesus, as the only name 
 given under heaven, whereby men can be saved. Per- 
 haps, if the Ministers of religion were to interest them- 
 selves in this manner, and accustom their people to 
 consult them as to the nature of the monumental inscrip- 
 tions which they wish to introduce into churches and 
 churchyards, a gradual improvement would take place 
 in this respect. What is offensive, useless, or erroneous, 
 would no longer find admittance, and a succession of 
 valuable warning and consolation to the living would 
 perpetuate the memory of the dead. 
 
 What can be more disgusting than the too common 
 spectacle of trifling, licentious travellers, wandering about 
 the churchyards of the different places through which 
 they pass, in search of rade, ungrararaatical, ill-spelt, and 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 169 
 
 absurd verses among the grave-stones : and this for the 
 gratification of their unholy scorn and ridicule ! And 
 yet how much is it to be deplored that such persons are 
 seldom disappointed in finding many instances which too 
 readily afford them the unfeeling satisfaction which they 
 seek ! I therefore offer this suggestion to my reverend 
 brethren, that as no monument or stone can be placed in 
 a church ot churchyard without their express consent or 
 approbation, whether one condition of that consent being 
 granted, should not be a previous inspection and approval 
 of every inscription which may be so placed within the 
 precincts of the sanctuary. 
 
 The reader will pardon this digression, which evidently 
 arose from the peculiar connexion established in little 
 Jane's history, between an epitaph inscribed on a grave- 
 stone, and the word of God inscribed on her heart. 
 When I arrived at Jane's cottage, I found her in bed, 
 reading Dr. Watts's Hymns for Children, in which she 
 took great pleasure. 
 
 '' What are you reading this morning, fane ? " 
 ''Sir, I have been thinking very much about some 
 verses in my little book. — Here they are : 
 
 * There is an hour when I must die, 
 
 Nor do I know how soon 'twill come : 
 A thousand children young as I, 
 
 Are called by death to hear their doom. 
 
 'Let me improve the hours I have, 
 Before the day of grace is fled ; 
 There's no repentance in the grave, 
 Nor pardon ofFer'd to the dead.' 
 
 " Sir, I feel all that to be very true, and I am afraid I 
 do not improve the hours I have as I ought to do. I 
 think I shall not live very long ; and when I remember 
 my sins, I say, 
 
 15 
 
170 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 ' Lord, at thy foot, asham'd I lie, 
 
 Upward I dare not look ; 
 Pardon my sins before I die, 
 
 And blot them from thy book.' 
 
 Do you think he loill pardon me, Sir ? " 
 
 " My dear child, I have great hopes that he HAS par- 
 doned you : that he has heard your prayers, and put you 
 into the number of his true children already. You have 
 had strong proofs of his mercy to your soul." 
 
 ' Yes, Sir, I have ; and I wish to love and bless him 
 for it. He is good, very good." 
 
 It had for some time past occurred to my mind, that a 
 course of regulated conversations on the first principles 
 of religion, would be very desirable from time to time, 
 for this interesting child's sake; and I thought the 
 Church Catechism would be the best groundwork for 
 that purpose. 
 
 " Jenny," said I, " you can repeat the Catechism ? " 
 
 "Yes, Sir; but I think that has been one of my sins 
 in the sight of God." 
 
 " What ! repeating your Catechism ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sir, in such a way as I used to do it." 
 
 "How was that?" 
 
 " Yery carelessly indeed. I never thought about tho 
 meaning of the words, and that must be very wrong. 
 Sir, the Catechism is full of good things ; I wish I under 
 stood them better." 
 
 " Well then, my child, we will talk a little about those 
 good things which, as you truly say, are contained in 
 the Catechism. Did you ever consider what it is to be 
 a member of Christ, a child of Cod, and an inheritor of 
 the kingdom of heaven ? " 
 
 "I think. Sir, I have lately considered it a good deal; 
 and I want to be such, not only in name, but in deed 
 and in truth. You once told me, Sir, that, ^as the 
 branch is to tho vine, and the stone to the building, and 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 171 
 
 the limb to the body and the head, so is a true believer, 
 to the Lord Jesus Christ.' But how am I to know that 
 I belong to Christ as a true memher, which you said one 
 day in the church, means the same as a limb of the body, 
 such as a leg or an arm ? " 
 
 ''Do you love Christ now in a way you never used to 
 do before ? " 
 
 '' Yes, I think so indeed." 
 
 " Why do you love him ? " 
 
 " Because he first loved me." 
 
 '' How do you know that he first loved you ? " 
 
 ''Because he sent me instruction, and made me feel 
 the sin of my hearty and taught me to pray for pardon, 
 and love his ways : he sent you to teach me. Sir, and to 
 show me the way to be saved ; and now I want to be 
 saved in that way that he pleases. Sometimes I feel as 
 if I loved all that he has said and done, so much, that I 
 wish never to think about any thing else. I know I did 
 not use to feel so ; and I think if he had not loved me 
 first, my wicked heart would never have cared about 
 him. I once loved any thing better than religion, but 
 now it is every thing to me." 
 
 " Do you believe in your heart that Christ is able and 
 willing to save the chief of sinners ? " 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " And what are you ? " 
 
 " A young, but a great sinner." 
 
 " Is it not of his mercv that you know and feel your- 
 self to be a sinner ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; yes, it must be so." 
 
 '' Do you earnestly desire to forsake all sin ? " 
 
 *' If I know myself, I do." 
 
 '' Do you feel a spirit within you, resisting sin, and 
 making you hate it ? " 
 
 "Yes, I hope so." 
 
 " Who gave you that spirit ? were you always so ? " 
 
172 THE YOUNG COTTAGE K. 
 
 "It must be Christ, wlio loved me, and gave himsel/ 
 for me. I was quite different once." 
 
 "Now then, my dear Jane, does not all this show a 
 connexion between the Lord Jesus Christ and your soul ? 
 Does it not seem, as if you lived, and moved, and had a 
 spiritual being from him? Just as a limb is connected 
 with your body, and so with your head, and thereby gets 
 power to live and move through the flowing of the blood 
 from one to the other : so are you spiritually a limb or 
 member of Christ, if you believe in him; and thus 
 obtain, through faith, a power to love him, and live to 
 his praise and glory. Do you understand me ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sir, I believe I do ; and it^ is very comfortable 
 to my thoughts to look up to Christ as a living head, 
 and to consider myself as the least and lowest of all his 
 members." 
 
 " Now, tell me what your thoughts are as to being a 
 child of God." 
 
 "I am sure. Sir, I do not deserve to be called his 
 child." 
 
 " Can you tell me who does deserve it ? " 
 
 ''Not one. Sir." 
 
 " How then comes any one to be a child of God, when 
 by nature we are all children of wrath ? " 
 
 "By God's grace. Sir." 
 
 " What does grace mean ? " 
 
 " Favour ; free favour to sinners." 
 
 " Eight ; and what does God bestow upon the children 
 of wrath, when he makes them children of grace ? " 
 
 " A death unto sin, and a new birth unto righteous- 
 ness ; is it not, Sir ? " 
 
 " Yes, this is the fruit of Christ's redeeming love : and 
 I hope you are a partaker of the blessing. The family 
 of God is named after him, and he is the first-born of 
 many brethren. What a mercy that Christ calls himself 
 ' a brother / ' My little girl, he is your brother ; and will 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 173 
 
 not be ashamed to own you, and present yon to his 
 Father at the last day, as one that he has purchased with 
 his blood." 
 
 "I wish I could love my Father and my Brother 
 which are in heaven, better than I do. Lord be merciful 
 to me a sinner ! I think, Sir, if I am a child of God, I 
 am often a rebellious one. He shows kindness to me 
 beyond others, and yet I make a very poor return. 
 
 " Are these thy favours, day by day, 
 To me above the rest ? 
 Then let me love thee more than they, 
 And strive to serve thee best.' " 
 
 " That will be the best way to approve yourself a real 
 child of Grod. Show your love and thankfulness to such 
 a Father, who hath prepared for you an inheritance 
 among the saints in light, and made you ' an inheritor 
 of the kingdom of heaven, as well as a member of Christ, 
 and a child of God.' Do you know what ' the kingdom 
 of heaven ' means ? '* 
 
 Just at that instant, her mother entered the house 
 below, and began to speak to a younger child in a pas- 
 sionate, scolding tone of voice, accompanied by some 
 very offensive language ; but quickly stopped on hearing 
 Us in conversation up stairs. » 
 
 " Ah, my poor mother I " said the girl, " you would 
 
 not have stopped so short, if Mr. had not been here. 
 
 Sir, you hear how my mother swears ; pray say some- 
 thing to her ; she will not hear me." 
 
 I went towards the stair-head, and called to the woman ; 
 but ashamed at the thought of my having probably over- 
 heard her expressions, she suddenly left the house, and 
 for that time escaped reproof. 
 
 "Sir," said little Jane, "I am so afraid, if I go to 
 heaven, I shall never see my poor mother there. I wish 
 I may ; but she does swear so, and keep such bad com- 
 
174 THE YOUNG COTTAGEE. 
 
 panj. As I lie here a-bed, Sir, for hours together, there 
 is often so much wickedness, and noise, and quarrelling 
 down below, that I do not know how to bear it. It 
 comes very near, Sir, when one's father and mother go 
 on so. I want them all to turn to the Lord, and go to 
 heaven. — Tell me now. Sir, something about being an 
 inheritor of the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 " You may remember, my child, what I have told you 
 when explaining the Catechism in the church, that ' the 
 kingdom of heaven' in the Scriptures means the Church 
 of Christ upon earth, as well as the -state of glory in 
 heaven. The one is a preparation for the other. All 
 true Christians are heirs of God, and joint-heirs with 
 Christ, and shall inherit the glory and happiness of his 
 kingdom, and live with Christ and be with him for ever. 
 This is the free gift of God to his adopted children; and 
 all that believe aright in Christ shall experience the truth 
 of that promise, 'It is your Father's good pleasure to 
 give you the kingdom.' You are a poor girl now, but I 
 trust, ' an entrance shall be ministered unto you abund- 
 antly, into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and 
 Saviour Jesus Christ.' You suffer now; but are you 
 not willing to suffer for his sake, and to bear patiently 
 those things to which he calls you ? " 
 
 " O yes, very "willing ; I would not complain. It is 
 all right." 
 
 ^' Then, my dear, you shall reign with him. Through 
 much tribulation you may, perhaps, enter into the king- 
 dom of God; but tribulation worketh patience; and 
 patience, experience ; and experience, hope. As a true 
 'member of Christ,' show yourself to be a dutiful 'child 
 of God,' and your portion will be that of an inheritor 
 of the kingdom of heaven. Faithful is He that hath 
 promised ; commit thy way unto the Lord ; trust also in 
 him, and he shall bring it to pass." 
 
 " Thank you, Sir ; I do so love to hear of these things. 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 175 
 
 And I think, Sir, T should not love them so much, if I 
 had no part in them. Sir, there is one thing I want to 
 ask you. It is a great thing, and I may be wrong — I 
 am so young — And yet I hope I mean right " 
 
 Here she hesitated, and paused. 
 
 " What is it ? do not be fearful of mentioning it." 
 
 A tear rolled down her cheek — a slight blush coloured 
 her countenance. She lifted up her eyes to heaven for a 
 moment, and then fixing them on me with a solemn 
 affecting look, said, 
 
 '' May so young a poor child as I am, be admitted to 
 the Lord's Supper ? I have for some time wished it, but 
 dared not to mention it, for fear you should think it 
 wrong." 
 
 " My dear Jenny, I have no doubt respecting it, and 
 shall be very glad to converse with you on the subject, 
 and hope that He who has given you the desire, will 
 bless his own ordinance to your soul. Would you wish 
 it now, or to-morrow?" 
 
 "To-morrow, if you please. Sir, — will you come to- 
 morrow, and talk to me about it ? and if you think it 
 proper, I shall be thankful. I am growing faint now-^ 
 I hope to be better when you come again." 
 
 I was much pleased with her proposal and rejoiced in 
 the prospect of seeing so young and sincere a Christian 
 thus devote herself to the Lord, and receive the sacra- 
 mental seal of a Saviour's love to her soul. 
 
 Disease was making rapid inroads upon her constitu- 
 tion, and she was aware of it. But as the outward man 
 decayed, she was strengthened with might by God's 
 Spirit in the inner man. She was evidently ripening 
 fast for a better world. 
 
 I remember these things-with affectionate pleasure — 
 they revive my earlier associations, and I hope the recol- 
 lection does me good. I wish them to do good to thee, 
 likewise, my reader ; and therefore I write them down. 
 
176 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 May the simplicity tliat is in Christ render 
 
 "The short and simple annals of the poor" 
 
 a mean of grace and blessing to thy soul ! Out of the 
 moitth of this babe and suckling may God ordain thee 
 strength I If thou art willing, thou mayest perchance 
 hear something further respecting her. 
 
 PAET lY. 
 
 I WAS so much affected with my last visit to little Jane, 
 and particularly with her tender anxiety respecting the 
 Lord's Supper, that it formed the chief subject of my 
 thoughts for the remainder of the day. 
 
 I rode in the afternoon to a favourite spot, where I 
 sometimes indulged in solitary meditation ; and where I 
 wished to reflect on the interesting case of my little 
 disciple. 
 
 It was a place well suited for such a purpose. 
 
 In the widely sweeping curve of a beautiful bay, there 
 is a kind of chasm or opening in one of the lofty cliffs 
 which bound it. This produces a very romantic and 
 striking effect. The steep -descending sides of this opening 
 in the cliff are covered with trees, bushes, wild flowers, 
 fern, wormwood, and many other herbs, here and there 
 contrasted with bold masses of rock or brown earth. 
 
 In the higher part of one of these declivities, two or 
 three picturesque cottages are fixed, and seem half sus- 
 pended in the air. 
 
 From the upper extremity of this great fissure or 
 opening in the cliff, a small stream of water enters by a 
 cascade, flows through the bbttom, winding in a varied 
 course of about a quarter of a mile in length ; and then 
 runs into the sea across a smooth expanse of firm hard 
 sand, at the lower extremity of the chasm. At this point. 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 177 
 
 the sides of the woodj banks are very lofty, and to a 
 spectator from the bottom, exhibit a mixture of the grand 
 and beautiful not often exceeded. 
 
 Near the mouth of this opening was a little hollow 
 recess, or cave, in the clifP, from whence, on one hand, I 
 could see the above-described romantic scene; on the 
 other, a long train of perpendicular cliffs, terminating in 
 a bold and wild-shaped promontory, which closed the 
 bay at one end, while a conspicuous white cliff stood 
 directly opposite, about four miles distant, at the further 
 point of the bay. 
 
 The open sea, in full magnificence, occupied the centre 
 of the prospect ; bounded, indeed, in one small part, by 
 % very distant shore, on the rising ascent from which the 
 rays of the sun rendered visible a cathedral church, with 
 its towering spire, at near thirty miles distance. Every 
 where else, the sea beyond was limited only by the sky. 
 
 A frigate was standing into the bay, not very far from 
 my recess ; other vessels of every size, sailing in many 
 directions, varied the scene, and furnished matter for a 
 thousand sources of contemplation. 
 
 At my feet the little rivulet, gently rippling over 
 pebbles, soon mingled with the sand, and was lost in the 
 waters of the mighty ocean. The murmuring of the 
 waves, as the tide ebbed or flowed, on the sand ; their 
 dashing against some more distant rocks, which were 
 covered fantastically with sea- weed and shells ; sea-birds 
 floating in the air aloft, or occasionally screaming from 
 their holes in the cliffs ; the hum of human voices in the 
 ships and boats, borne along the water : all these sounds 
 served to promote, rather than interrupt, meditation. 
 They were soothingly blended together, and entered the 
 ear in a kind of natural harmony. 
 
 In the quiet enjoyment of a scene like this, the lover 
 of nature's beauties will easily find scope for spiritual 
 illustration. 
 
178 THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 
 
 Here I sat and mused over the interesting cliaracter 
 and circumstances of little Jane. Here I prayed that 
 God would effectually teach me those truths which I 
 ought to teach her. 
 
 When I thought of her youth, I blushed to think how 
 superior she was to what I well remembered myself to 
 have been at the same age : nay, how fur my superior at 
 that very time. I earnestly desired to catch something 
 of the spirit which appeared so lovely in her : for simple, 
 teachable, meek, humble, yet earnest in her demeanour, 
 she bore living marks of heavenly teaching. 
 
 "The Lord," thought I, "has called this little child, 
 and set her in the midst of us, as a parable, a pattern, an 
 emblem. And he saith, ' Verily, except ye be converted, 
 and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven.' O that I may be humble as this 
 little child!" 
 
 I was thus led into a deep self-examination, and was 
 severely exercised with fear and apprehension, whether 
 I was myself a real partaker of those divine influences 
 which I could so evidently discover in her. Sin appeared 
 to me just then to be more than ever "exceeding sinful." 
 Inward and inbred corruptions made me tremble. The 
 danger of self-deception in so great a matter alarmed 
 me — I was a teacher of others: but was I indeed spirit- 
 ually taught myself? 
 
 A spirit of anxious enquiry ran through every thought: 
 I looked at the manifold works of creation around me ; 1 
 perceived the greatest marks of regularity and order; 
 but within I felt confusion and disorder. 
 
 "The waves of the sea," thought I, "ebb and flow in 
 exact obedience to the laws of their Creator. — Thus far 
 they come, and no farther — they retire again to their 
 accustomed bounds ; and so maintain a regulated succes- 
 sion of effects. 
 
 " But, alas 1 the waves of passion and affection in the 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 179 
 
 liuman breast, nianifest more of the wild confusion of a 
 storm, than the orderly regularity of a tide — Grace can 
 alone subdue them. 
 
 ' What peaceful harmony subsists throughout all this 
 lovely landscape ! —^hese majestic cliffs, some clothed 
 with trees and shrubs ; others bare and unadorned with 
 herbage, yet variegated with many-coloured earths ; these 
 are not only sublime and delightful to behold, but they 
 are answering the end of their creation, and serve as a 
 barrier to stop the progress of the waves. 
 
 "But how little peace and harmony can I compara- 
 tively see in my own heart ! The landscape within is 
 marred by dreary barren wilds, and wants that engaging 
 character which the various parts of this prospect before 
 me so happily preserve. — Sin, sin, is the bane of mor- 
 tality, and heaps confusion upon confusion, wherever it 
 prevails. 
 
 " Yet, saith the voice of Promise, ' Sin shall not have 
 dominion over you.' — 0! then, 'may I yield myself 
 unto God, as one that am alive from the dead, and my 
 members as instruments of righteousness unto God.' 
 And thus may I become an able and willing minister of 
 the New Testament ! 
 
 "I wish I were like this little stream of water — It 
 takes its first rise scarcely a mile off: yet it has done 
 good even in that short course. It has passed by several 
 cottages in its way, and afforded life and health to the 
 inhabitants — it has watered their little gardens as it 
 flows, and enriched the meadows near its banks. It has 
 satisfied the thirst of the flocks that are feeding aloft on 
 the hills, and perhaps refreshed the shepherd's boy who 
 sits watching his master's sheep hard by. It then quietly 
 finishes its current in this secluded dell, and, agreeably 
 to the design of its Creator, quickly vanishes in the 
 ocean. 
 
 " May my course be like unto thine, thou little rivulet I 
 
180 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 Though short be my span of life, yet may I be useful to 
 my fellow- sinners, as I travel onwards! Let me be a 
 dispenser of spiritual support and health to many ! Like 
 this stream, may I prove ' the poor man's friend ' by the 
 way, and water the souls that thirst for the river of 
 life, wherever I meet them! — And, if it please thee, O 
 my God ! let me in my latter end be like this brook. It 
 calmly, though not quite silently, flows through this 
 scene of peace and loveliness, just before it enters the 
 sea. Let me thus gently close my days likewise ; and 
 may I not unusefully tell to others of the goodness and 
 mercy of my Saviour, till I arrive at the vast ocean of 
 eternity ! 
 
 "Thither," thought I, "little Jane is fast hastening. 
 Short, but not useless, has been her course. I feel the 
 great importance of it in my own soal at this moment. 
 I view a work of mercy there, to which I do hope I am 
 not quite a stranger in the experience of my own heart. 
 The thought enlivens my spirit, and leads me to see, 
 that, great as is the power of sin, the power of Jesus is 
 greater : and, through grace, I may meet my dear young 
 disciple, my child in the gospel, my sister in the faith, in 
 a brighter, a better world hereafter." 
 
 There was something in the whole of this meditation, 
 which calmed and prepared my mind for my promised 
 visit the next day. I looked forward to it with affec- 
 tionate anxiety. 
 
 It was now time to return homewards. The sun was 
 setting. The lengthened shadows of the cliffs, and of the 
 hills towering again far above them, cast a brown but 
 not unpleasing tint over the waters of the bay. Further 
 on, the beams of the sun still maintained their splendour. 
 Some of the sails of the distant ships, enlivened by its 
 rays, appeared like white spots in the blue horizon, and 
 seemed to attract my notice, as if to claim at least the 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 181 
 
 passing prayer, '' God speed tlie mariners on their voy- 
 age I" 
 
 I quitted my retreat in the cliff with some reluctance ; 
 but with a state of mind, as I hoped, solemnized by 
 reflection, and animated to fresh exertion. 
 
 I walked up by a steep pathway, that winded through 
 the trees and shrubs on the sides of one of the precipices. 
 At every step, the extent of prospect enlarged, and 
 acquired a new and varying character, by being seen 
 through the trees on each side. Climbing up a kind of 
 rude, inartificial set of stone stairs in the bank, I passed 
 by the singularly-situated cottages, which I had viewed 
 from beneath ; received and returned the evening saluta- 
 tion of the inhabitants, sitting at their doors, and just 
 come home from labour ; till I arrived at the top of the 
 precipice, where I had left my horse tied to a gate. 
 
 Could he have enjoyed it, he had a noble prospect 
 around him in every direction from this elevated point 
 of view, where he had been stationed while I was on the 
 shore below. But wherein he most probably failed, I 
 think his rider did not. The landscape, taken in con- 
 nexion with my recent train of thought about myself 
 and little Jane, inspired devotion. 
 
 The sun was now set : the bright colours of the western 
 clouds faintly reflected from the south-eastern hills, that 
 were unseen from my retreat in the cliff, or only per- 
 ceived by their evening shadows on the sea, now added 
 to the beauty of the prospect on the south and west. 
 Every element contributed to the interesting effect of the 
 scenery. The earth was diversified in shape and orna- 
 ment. The waters of the ocean presented a noble feature 
 in the landscape. The air was serene, or only ruffled by 
 a freshing breeze from the shore. And the sun's fiery 
 beams, though departing for the night, still preserved 
 such a portion of light and warmth, as rendered all the 
 rest delightful to an evening traveller. 
 
182 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 The next morning I went to Jane's cottage. On enter- 
 ing the door, the woman who so frequently visited her, 
 met me, and said : 
 
 "Perhaps, Sir, you will not wake her just yet; for she 
 has dropped asleep, and she seldom gets much rest, poor 
 girl." 
 
 I went gently up stairs. 
 
 The child was in a half-sitting posture, leaning her 
 head upon her right hand, with her Bible open before 
 her. She had evidently fallen asleep while reading. Her 
 countenance was beautifully composed and tranquil. A 
 few tears had rolled down her cheek, and (probably 
 unknown to her) dropped upon the pages of her book. 
 
 I looked around me for a moment. The room was 
 outwardly comfortless and uninviting : the walls out of 
 repair ; the sloping roof somewhat shattered ; the floor 
 broken and uneven; no furniture, but two tottering 
 bedsteads, a three-legged stool, and an old oak, chest — 
 the window broken in many places, and mended with 
 patches of paper. A little shelf against the wall, over 
 the bedstead where Jane lay, served for her physic, her 
 food, and her books. 
 
 "Yet/iere," I said to myself, "lies an heir of glory, 
 waiting for a happy dismissal. Her earthly home is 
 poor indeed: but she has a house, not made with hands, 
 eternal in the heavens. She has little to attach her to 
 this world : but what a weight of glory in the world to 
 come ! This mean, despised chamber is a palace in the 
 eye of faith, for it contains one that is inheritor of a 
 crown." 
 
 I approached without waking her, and observed that 
 she had been reading the twenty-third chapter of St. 
 Luke. The finger of her left hand lay upon the book, 
 pointing *to the words, as if she had been using it to 
 guide her eye whilst she read. 
 
 I looked at the place, and was pleased at the apparently 
 
/ THE YOUNG COTTAGE K. 183 
 
 casual circumstance of tier finger pointing at these words: 
 — ''Lord, remember me, when thou comest into thy 
 kingdom." 
 
 "Is this casual or designed?" thought I — "Either 
 way it is remarkable." 
 
 But in another moment I discovered that her finger 
 '^2,^ indeed an index to the thoughts of her heart. 
 
 She half d^-wokQ from her dozing state, but not suffi- 
 ciently so to perceive that any person was present, and 
 said, in a kind of whisper, 
 
 "Lord, remember me — Eemember me — Eemember — 
 Eemember a poor child — Lord, remember me " 
 
 She then suddenly started, and perceived me, as she 
 became fully awake — a faint blush overspread her cheeks 
 for a moment, and then disappeared. 
 
 "Dame K , how long have I been asleep? — Sir, 
 
 I am very sorry " 
 
 " And I am very glad to find you thus," I replied : 
 " you may say with David, ' I laid me down and slept : 
 I awaked, for the Lord sustained me.' What were you 
 reading ? " 
 
 " The history of the crucifying of Jesus, Sir." 
 
 " How far had you read when you fell asleep ? " 
 
 " To the prayer of the thief that was crucified with 
 him : and when I came to that place, I stopped, and 
 thought what a mercy it would be, if the Lord Jesus 
 should remember me likewise — and so I fell asleep, and 
 I fancied in my dream, that I saw Christ upon the cross ; 
 and I thought I said, 'Lord, remember me' — and I am 
 sure he did not look angry upon me — and then I awoke." 
 
 All this seemed to be a sweet commentary on the text, 
 and a most suitable forerunner of our intended sacra- 
 mental service. 
 
 " Well, my dear child, I am come, as you v,^ished me, 
 to administer the sacrament of the body and blood of 
 
184: THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 our blessed Saviour to you ; and I dare say neighbour 
 K will be glad to join us." 
 
 *' Talk to me a little about it first, Sir, if you please." 
 
 "You remember what you have learned in your 
 Catecbism about it. — Let us consider. — A sacrament, 
 you know, is ' an outward and visible sign of an inward 
 and spiritual grace, given unto us, ordained by Christ 
 himself, as a means whereby we receive the same, and a 
 pledge to assure us thereof.' Now the Lord has ordained 
 bread and wine in the holy supper, as the outward mark, 
 which we behold with our eyes. It is a sign, a token, a 
 seal of his love, grace, and blessing, which he promises 
 to, and bestows on, all who receive it, rightly believing 
 on his name and work. He, in this manner, preserves 
 amongst us, a ' continual remembrance of his death, and 
 of the benefits which we receive thereby.' 
 
 " What do you believe respecting the death of Christ, 
 Jenny ? " 
 
 " That because he died. Sir, we live." 
 
 " What life do we live thereby ? " 
 
 *' The life of grace and mercy now, and the life of glory 
 and happiness hereafter : is it not. Sir ? " 
 
 "Yes, assuredly; this is the fruit of the death of 
 Christ : and thus he ' opened the kingdom of heaven to 
 all believers.' As bread and wine strengthen and refresh 
 your poor weak fainting body in this very sickness, so 
 does the blessing of his body and blood strengthen and 
 refresh the souls of all that repose their faith, hope, and 
 affections on Him who loved us and gave himself for us." 
 
 Tears ran down her cheeks, as she said, "01 what a 
 Saviour ! — 01 what a sinner ! — How kind — how good ! 
 — And is this for me ? " 
 
 " Fear not, dear child : He that has made you to love 
 him thus, loves you too well to deny you. He will in 
 no wise cast out any that come to him." 
 
 "Sir, said the girl, "lean never think" about Jesus, 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 185 
 
 and his love to sinners, witliout wondering how it can 
 be. I deserve nothing but his anger on account of my 
 sins. Why then does he love me ? — My heart is evil. 
 Why then does he love me? — I continually forget all 
 his goodness. Why then does he love me? — I neither 
 pray to him, nor thank him, nor do any thing as I ought 
 to do. Why then such love to me ? " 
 
 " How plain it is, that all is mercy from first to last I 
 and that sweetens the blessing, my child. Are you not 
 willing to give Christ all the honour of your salvation, 
 and to take all the blame of your sins on your own self? " 
 
 '^Yes, indeed, Sir, I am. My hymn says, 
 
 " Blest be the Lord that sent his Son, - 
 
 To take our flesh and blood: 
 He for our lives gave up his own, 
 To make our peace with God. 
 
 He honour'd all his Father's law 
 
 Which we have disobey'd ; 
 He bore our sins upon the cross, 
 
 And our full ransom paid.' " 
 
 " I am glad you remember your hymns so well, Jenny." 
 
 " Sir, you don't know what pleasure they give me. I 
 am very glad you gave me that little book of Hymns for 
 Children." 
 
 A severe fit of coughing interrupted her speech for a 
 while. The woman held her head. It was distressing 
 to observe her struggle for breath, and almost, as it were, 
 for life. 
 
 ^'Foor dear!" said the woman, ''I wish I could help 
 thee, and ease thy pains : but they will not last for ever." 
 
 "God helps me," said the girl, recovering her breath : 
 "God helps me; he will carry me through. — Sir, you 
 look frightened — /am not afraid — this is nothing — I 
 am better now. Thank you, dame, thank you. I am 
 very troublesome ; but the Lord will bless you for this 
 
186 THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 
 
 and all your kindDess to me: yes, Sir, and yours too. 
 Now talk to me again about tlie sacrament." 
 
 " What is required, Jenny, of them who come to the 
 Lord's supper? There are five things named in the 
 Catechism — do you remember what is the first?" 
 
 She paused ; and then said, with a solemn and intelli- 
 gent look, 
 
 "To examine themselves whether they repent them 
 truly of their former sins." 
 
 " I hope and think that you know what this means, 
 Jenny : the Lord has given you the spirit of repentance." 
 
 "Ko one knows. Sir, what the thoughts of past sin 
 have been to me. Yes, the Lord knows, and that is 
 enough: and I hope he forgives me for Christ's sake. 
 His blood cleanseth from all sin. Sir, I sometimes think 
 of my sins till I tremble, and it makes me cry to think 
 that I have offended such a God ; -and then he comforts 
 me again with sweet thoughts about Christ." 
 
 "It is well, my child — be it so. The next thing 
 mentioned in that answer of your Catechism, what is it ? " 
 
 " Steadfastly purposing to lead a new life." 
 
 " And what do you think of that ? " 
 
 " My life. Sir, will be a short one ; and I wish it had 
 been a better one. But from my heart I desire that it 
 may be a new one, for the time to come. I want to for- 
 sake all my evil ways and thoughts, and evil words, and 
 evil companions ; and to do what God bids me, and what 
 you tell me is right. Sir, and what I read of in my Bible. 
 But I am afraid I do not, my heart is so full of sin. 
 However, Sir, I pray to God to help me. My days will 
 be few ; but I wish they may be spent to the glory of 
 God." 
 
 " The blessing of the Lord be upon you, Jane ; so that, 
 whether you live, you may live to the Lord : or whether 
 you die, you may die unto the Lord; and that, living 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 187 
 
 or dying, you may be tte Lord's. — What is the next 
 thing mentioned ? " 
 
 " To have a lively faith in God's mercy through Christ, 
 Sir." 
 
 " Do you believe that God is merciful to you in the 
 pardon of your sins ? " 
 
 "I do, Sir," said the child, earnestly. 
 
 "And if he pardons you, is it for your own sake, 
 Jenny ? " 
 
 " No, Sir, no ; it is for Christ's sake, for my Saviour 
 Jesus Christ's sake, and that only — Christ is all." 
 
 " Can you trust him ? " 
 
 "Sir, I must not mistrust him; nor would T, if I 
 might." 
 
 " Eight, child ; he is worthy of all your trust." 
 
 " And then. Sir, I am to have a thankful remembrance 
 of his death. I can never think of his dying, but I 
 think also what a poor unworthy creature I am ; and yet 
 he is so good to me. I wish I could thank him. — Sir, I 
 have been reading about his death. How could the 
 people do as they did to him? — but it was all for our 
 salvation. And then the thief on the cross — That is 
 beautiful. I hope he will remember me too, and that 1 
 ^hall always remember him and his death most thank- 
 Fully." 
 
 " And lastly, Jenny, are you in charity wdth all men ? 
 Do you forgive all that have offended you? Do you 
 bear ill-will in your heart to any body ? " 
 
 " Dear Sir ! no ; how can I ? If God is so good to me, 
 if he forgives me, how ■ can I help forgiving others ? 
 There is not a person in all the world, I think. Sir, that 
 I do not wish well to for Christ's sake, and that from the 
 bottom of my heart." 
 
 "How do you feel towards those bold, wanton, ill- 
 tempered girls at the next door^ who jeer and mock you 
 so about your religion ? " 
 
188 THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 
 
 " Sir, the worst tiling I wish them is, that God may- 
 give them grace to repent ; that he may change their 
 hearts, and pardon all their wicked ways and words. 
 May he forgive them as I do with, all my soul ! " 
 
 She ceased — I wished to ask no more. My heart was 
 full. " Can this be the religion of a child ? " thought I ; 
 " that we were all children like her ! " 
 
 " Eeach me that prayer-book, and the cup and plate. 
 My dear friends, I will now, with God's blessing, partake 
 with you in the holy communion of our Lord's body 
 and blood." 
 
 The time was sweet and solemn. I went through the 
 sacramental service. 
 
 The countenance and manner of the child evinced 
 powerful feelings. Tears mingled with smiles ; resigna- 
 tion brightened by hope; humility animated by faith; 
 child-like modesty adorned with the understanding of a 
 riper age; gratitude, peace, devotion, patience, — all these 
 were visible. I thought I distinctly saw them all — and 
 did / alone see them ? Is it too much to say that other 
 created beings, whom I could not behold with my natural 
 eyes, were witnesses of the scene ? 
 
 If ministering angels do ascend and descend with glad 
 tidings between earth and heaven, I think they did so 
 then. 
 
 When I had concluded the service, I said, 
 
 ''Now, my dear Jane, you are indeed become a sister 
 in the church of Christ. May his Spirit and blessing 
 rest upon you, — strengthen and refresh you!" 
 
 " My mercies are great, very great. Sir ; greater than 
 I can express — I thank you for this favour — I thought 
 I was too young — it seemed too much for me to think 
 of: but I am now sure the Lord is good to me, and I 
 hope I have done right." 
 
 " Yes, Jenny ; and I trust you are both outwardly and 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE K. 189 
 
 inwardly sealed by tlie Holy Gliost to the day of redemp- 
 tion." 
 
 " Sir, I shall never forget this day." 
 
 "Neither, I think, shall I." 
 
 '^Norl," said the good old woman : "sure the Lord 
 has been in the midst of ns three to-day, while we have 
 been gathered together in his name." 
 
 " Sir," said the child, "I wish you could speak to my 
 mother, when you come again. But she keeps out of 
 your sight. I am so grieved about her soul ; and I am 
 afraid she cares nothing at all about it herself." 
 
 " I hope I shall have an opportunity the next time I 
 come. Farewell, my child." 
 
 "Good bye, Sir, and I thank you for all your kind- 
 ness to me." 
 
 " Surely," I thought within myself, as I left the cot- 
 tage, " this young bud of grace will bloom beauteously 
 in Paradise. The Lord transplant her thither in his own 
 good time ! Yet, if it be his will, may she live a little 
 longer, that I may further profit by her conversation 
 and example." 
 
 Possibly, some who peruse these simple records of 
 [>oor little Jane, may wish the same. If it be so, we will 
 visit her again before she departs hence, and is no more 
 seen. 
 
 PART V. 
 
 Jane was hastening fast to her dissolution. She still, 
 however, preserved sufficient strength to converse with 
 much satisfaction to herself and those who visited her. 
 Such as could truly estimate the value of her spiritual 
 state of mind were but few ; yet the most careless could 
 not help being struck with her affectionate seriousness, 
 
190 THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 
 
 her knowledge of the Scriptures, and her happy applica- 
 tion of them to her own case. 
 
 " The holy spark divine," 
 which regenerating grace had implanted in her heart, 
 brightened as she drew near the close of life, and kindled 
 into a flame, which warmed and animated the beholder. 
 To soine, I am persuaded, her exaniple and conversation 
 were made a blessing. Memory reflects with gratitude, 
 whilst I write, on the profit and consolation which I 
 individually derived from her society. ISTor I alone. 
 The last day will, if I err not, disclose further fruits, 
 resulting from the love of God to this little child ; and, 
 through her, to others that saw her. And may not hope 
 indulge the prospect, that this simple memorial of her 
 history shall be as one arrow drawn from the quiver of 
 the Almighty to reach, the heart of the young and the 
 thoughtless? Direct its course, my God I May the 
 eye that reads and the ear that hears, the record of little 
 Jane, through the power of the Spirit of the Most 
 Highest, each become a witness for the truth as it is in 
 Jesus I 
 
 I remembered the tender solicitude of this dear child 
 for her mother. I well knew what an awful contrast the 
 dispositions and conduct of her parents exhibited, when 
 compared with her own. 
 
 I resolved to avail myself of the first opportunity I 
 could seize to speak to tbe mother in the child's pre- 
 sence. The woman had latterly avoided me, conscious 
 of deserving, and fearful of receiving, reproof. The road 
 by which I usually approached the house, lay, for some 
 little distance, sufficiently in sight of its windows, to 
 enable the woman to retire out of the way before I 
 arrived. There was, however, another path, through 
 fields at the back of the village, which, owing to the 
 situation of the ground, allowed of an approach unper- 
 ceived, till a visitor reached the very cottage itself. 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 191 
 
 One morning, soon after the sacramental interview 
 related in my last paper, I chose this road for my visit. 
 It was preferable to me on every account. The distance 
 was not quite half a mile from my house. The path was 
 retired. I hereby avoided the noise and interruption 
 which even a village street will sometimes present to 
 disturb the calmness of interesting meditation. 
 
 As I passed through the churchyard, and cast my eye 
 on the memorable epitaph; ''Soon," I thought within 
 me, " will my poor little Jane mingle her mouldering 
 remains with this dust, and sleep with her fathers ! Soon 
 will the youthful tongue, which now lisps Hosannas to 
 the Son of David, and delights my heart with the 
 evidences of early piety and grace, be silent in the earth I 
 Soon shall I be called to commit her ^body to the 
 ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.' But 
 O I what a glorious change ! Her spirit shall have then 
 returned to God, which gave it. Her soul will be joining 
 the hallelujahs of Paradise, while we sing her requiem 
 at the grave. And her very dust shall here wait, ' in. 
 sure and certain hope of a joyful resurrection from the 
 dead.' " 
 
 I went through the fields without meeting a single 
 individual. I enjoyed the retirement of my solitary 
 walk : various surrounding objects contributed to excite 
 useful meditation, connected with the great subjects of 
 time and eternity. Here and there a drooping flower 
 reminded me of the fleeting nature of mortal life. Some- 
 times a shady spot taught me to look to Him, who is "a 
 shadow in the day-time from the heat, and for a place 
 of refuge, and for a covert from storm and from rain." 
 If a worm crept across my path, I saw an emblem of 
 myself as I am 7iow : and the winged insects, fluttering 
 in the sunbeams, led me comparatively to reflect on 
 wliat I hoped to be hereafter. 
 
 The capacious mansion of a rich neighbour appeared 
 
192 THE YOUNG COTTAGE K. 
 
 on the right hand, as I walked : on my left were the 
 cottages of the poor. The church spire pointing to 
 heaven a little beyond, seemed to say to both the rich 
 and the poor, " Set your affections on things above, not 
 on things on the earth." 
 
 All these objects afforded me useful meditation ; and 
 all obtained an increased value, as such, because they lay 
 in my road to the house of little Jane. 
 
 I was now arrived at the stile nearly adjoining her 
 dwelling. The upper window was open, and I soon 
 distinguished the sound of voices : I was glad to hear 
 that of the mother. I entered the house door unper- 
 ceived by those above stairs, and sat down below, not 
 wishing as yet to interrupt a conversation, which quickly 
 caught my ear. 
 
 " Mother ! mother ! I have not long to live. My time 
 will be very short. But I must, indeed I must, say 
 something for your sake, before -I die. O mother ! you 
 have a soul — you have a soul; and what will become 
 of it when you die ? O my mother ! I am so uneasy 
 about your soul — " 
 
 "O dear! I shall lose my child — she will die — and 
 what shall I do when you are gone, my Jenny?" — She 
 sobbed aloud. 
 
 "Mother, think about your soul. Have not you 
 neglected that?" 
 
 "Yes, I have been a wicked creature, and hated all 
 that was good. What can I do ? " 
 
 " Mother, you must pray to God to pardon you for 
 Christ's sake. You must pray." 
 
 "Jenny, my child, I cannot pray; I never did pray in 
 all my life. I am too wicked to pray." 
 
 " Mother, I have been wanting to speak to you a long 
 time. But I was afraid to do it. You did not like me 
 to say any thing about religion, and I did not know how 
 to begin. But indeed, mother, I must speak now, or it 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGER. . 193 
 
 may be too late. I wisli Mr. was here, for tie could 
 
 talk to you better than I can. But, perhaps, you will 
 think of what I say, poor as it is, when I am dead. I 
 am but a young child, and not fit to speak about such 
 things to any body. But, mother, you belong to me, 
 and I cannot bear to think of your perishing for ever. 
 My Lord and Saviour has shown me my own sin and 
 corruptions : he loved me and gave himself for me : he 
 died and he rose again : I want to praise him for it for 
 ever and ever. I hope I shall see him in heaven ; but I 
 want to see you there too, mother. Do, pray do, leave 
 off swearing and other bad ways : go to church, and hear 
 our Minister speak about Jesus Christ, and what he has 
 done for wicked sinners. He wishes well to souls. He 
 taught me the way, and he will teach you, mother. Why 
 did you always go out of the house when you knew he 
 was coming ? Do not be angry with me, mother ; I only 
 speak for your good. I was once as careless as you are 
 about the things of God. But I have seen my error. I 
 was in the broad road leading to destruction, like many 
 other children in the parish ; and the Lord saw me and 
 had mercy upon me." 
 
 "Yes, my child, you was always a good girl, and 
 minded your book." 
 
 " No, mother, no ; not always. I cared nothing about 
 goodness, nor my Bible, till the Minister came and sent 
 for us, as you know, on Saturday afternoons. Don't you 
 remember, mother, that at first you did not like me to 
 go, and said you would have no such godly pious doings 
 about your house ; and that I had better play about the 
 street and fields than be laughed at and made game of 
 for pretending to be so good ? Ah, mother ! you did not 
 know what I went for, and what God designed for me 
 and my poor sinful soul. ^But, thank God, I did go, and 
 there learned the way of salvation. Mother, I wish you 
 had learned it too." ir 
 
194 THE rOUNG COTTAGER 
 
 As I listened to this affecting conversation, it appeared 
 to me, from the tone and manner of the mother's voice, 
 that she was more under the influence of temporary 
 grief, on account of her child's extreme illness, than 
 sincere sorrow from any real sense of her sins. I how- 
 ever hoped the best, and rejoiced to hear such weighty 
 and important exhortation dropping from her daughter's 
 lips. I felt that present circumstances rendered it far 
 more valuable than my own could have been. 
 
 I have often, since that time, seen the wicked and 
 careless much affected, while sitting by the dying bed of 
 a near relative : I have witnessed their temporary ac- 
 knowledgments of sin, and heard their professions of 
 amendment. But, after a short season, all has passed 
 away like the morning dew. The friend has been buried 
 out of sight. The world and its cares, the flesh and its 
 sins, have returned with new temptations, and the elo- 
 quence of iniquity has prevailed over the voice of truth. 
 " The dog has returned to his vomit, and the sow to 
 her wallowing in the mire." 
 
 On the other hand, how frequently have the death- 
 beds of true believers been blessed to the eye-witnesses 
 of the triumphs of grace over sin, death, and hell I Often 
 has the careless bystander received the first saving 
 impression of divine truth, whilst the dying Christian 
 has experienced and testified the supports of love and 
 mercy, in the trying hour. At such seasons, faith wields 
 a bright and burning torch, which occasionally softens 
 the hardest, and warms the coldest heart. The expres- 
 sions of that heavenly consolation and devout solicitude, 
 which the Holy Spirit vouchsafes to some, thus become 
 the happy means of grace and blessing for the conver- 
 sion and edification of others. 
 
 ''He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit 
 saith unto the churches I " 
 
 At this moment the house-door opened, and a younger 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 195 
 
 cTiild, a brother of Jane's, came in. The mother asked 
 from above who it was : the boy replied, and, without 
 further enquiry, she remained in the chamber. I beck- 
 oned to the lad to sit down quietly; and thus it still 
 remained unknown that I was below. 
 
 "Mother," continued jane, '^that is my brother, and 
 will soon be your only remaining child. Do, pray, 
 encourage him to follow good ways. Send him to Mr. 
 
 , and he will be kind to him, as he has been to me. 
 
 He is a wild boy, but I hope he will be brought to think 
 about his soul in time. Those naughty wicked boys 
 teach him to swear and fight, and run after all manner 
 of evil. Lord help him to flee from the wrath to come I " 
 
 I made a sign to the boy to listen to what his sister 
 said concerning him. He seemed to hear with attention, 
 and a tear dropped down his cheek. 
 
 '' Aye, Jenny, it is to be hoped he will, and that we 
 all shall likewise." 
 
 '^Mother, then you must flee to Christ. Nothing you 
 can do will save you without that. You must repent 
 and turn from sin — without the grace of God you cannot 
 do it; but seek, and you shall find it. — Do, for your 
 own sake, and for my sake, and my little brother's sake." 
 
 The woman wept and sobbed without replying. I 
 now thought it time to appear ; went to the bottom of 
 the stairs, and said, " May a friend come up ? " 
 
 '' Mercy on me I" said the mother, " there is Mr. ." 
 
 ''Come in. Sir," said Jane; "I am very glad you are 
 come now. Mother, set a chair." 
 
 The woman looked confused. Jane smiled as I entered, 
 and welcomed me as usual. 
 
 ''I hope I shall be forgiven, both by mother and 
 daughter, for having remained so long below stairs, 
 during the conversation which has just taken place. I 
 came in the hope of finding you together, as I have had 
 a wish for some time past to speak to you, Sarah, on the 
 
196 THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 
 
 same subjects^ about wliicb I am bappj to say your 
 daughter is so anxious. You have long neglected these 
 things, and I wished to warn you of the danger of your 
 state — but Jenny has said all I could desire, and I now 
 solemnly ask you, whether you are not much affected by 
 your poor child's faithful conversation ? You ought to 
 have been her teacher and instructer in the ways of 
 righteousness; whereas now she has become yours, 
 Happy, however, will it be for you if you are wise, and 
 consider your latter end, and the things which belong to 
 your peace, before they are hidden from your eyes! 
 Look at your dying child, and think of your other and 
 only remaining one, and say whether this sight does not 
 call aloud upon you to hear and fear." 
 
 Jane's eyes were filled with tears whilst I spoke. The 
 woman hung her head down, but betrayed some emotions 
 of dislike at the plain dealing used towards her. 
 
 " My child Jenny," said I, ^'how are you to-day ? " 
 
 *' Sir, I have been talking a good deal, and feel rather 
 faint and weary, but my mind has been very easy and 
 happy since I last saw you. I am quite willing to die, 
 when the Lord sees fit. I have no wish to live, except 
 it be to see my friends in a better way before I depart. 
 Sir, I used to be afraid to speak to them ; but I feel to- 
 day as if I could hold my peace no longer, and I must 
 tell them what the Lord has done for my soul, and what 
 I feel for theirs." 
 
 There was a firmness, I may say a dignity, with which 
 this was uttered, that surprised me. The character of 
 the chiid seemed to be lost in that of the Christian : her 
 natural timidity yielded to a holy assurance of manner, 
 resulting from her own inward consolations, mingled 
 with spiritual desire for her mother's welfare. This 
 produced a flush upon her otherwise pallid countenance, 
 which in no small degree added to her interesting appear- 
 ance. The Bible lay open before her as she sat up in 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 197 
 
 the bed. With her right hand she enclosed her mother's. 
 — "Mother, this book yoio cannot read: you should 
 therefore go constantly to church, that you may hear it 
 explained. It is God's book, and tells us the way to 
 heaven ; I hope you will learn and mind it ; with God's 
 blessing it may save your soul. Do think of that, 
 mother, pray do. I am soon going to die. Give this 
 Bible to my brother : and will you be so kind, Sir, to 
 instruct him ? Mother, remember what I say, and this 
 gentleman is witness: there is no salvation for sinners 
 like you and me but in the blood of Christ ; he is able to 
 save to the uttermost ; he will save all that come to him ; 
 he waits to be gracious ; cast yourself upon his mercy. 
 I wish — I wish— I — I— I—" 
 
 She was quite overcome, and sunk away in a kind of 
 fainting fit. 
 
 Her mother observed, that she would now probably 
 remain insensible for some time, before she recovered. 
 
 I improved this interval in a serious address to the 
 woman, and then prepared to take my departure, per- 
 ceiving that Jane was too much exhausted for further 
 conversation at that time. 
 
 As I was leaving the room, the child said, faintly, 
 " Come again soon. Sir ; my time is very short." 
 
 I returned home by the same retired road which I had 
 before chosen. I silently meditated on the eminent 
 proofs of piety and faith which were just afforded me in 
 the scene I had witnessed. 
 
 Surely, I thought, this is an extraordinary child! 
 What cannot grace accomplish ? Is it possible to doubt, 
 after this, lulio is the alone Author and Finisher of salva- 
 tion ? or from wJiom cometh every good and perfect gift ? 
 How rich and free is the mercy of Jehovah ! Hath not 
 he '' chosen the weak things of the world to confound 
 the things which are mighty? Let no flesh glory in his 
 presence : but he that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord." 
 
 17* 
 
198 THE YOUNG COTTAGEE. 
 
 PAKT yi. 
 
 The trutli and excellence of the religion of Jesus Christ 
 appears to be remarkably established by the union of 
 similarity with variety, in the effect which it produces 
 on the hearts and lives of true believers. In the grand 
 and essential features of Christian experience, the whole 
 household of God possess an universal sameness of 
 character, a family likeness, which distinguishes them 
 from all the world besides : yet, in numerous particulars, 
 there also exists a beautiful variety. 
 
 On the one hand, in the aged and the young, in the 
 wise and the unlearned, in the rich and the poor; in 
 those of stronger and weaker degrees of mental capacity, 
 in more sanguine or more sedate dispositions ; and in a 
 multitude of otherwise varying circumstances, there is a 
 striking conformity of principles and feeling to Christ, 
 and to each other. Like the flowers of the field and the 
 garden, they are " all rooted and grounded " in the soil 
 of the same earth ; they are warmed by the same sun, 
 refreshed by the same air, and watered by the same 
 dews. They e^ch derive nourishment, growth, and 
 increase from the same life-giving Source. As the flower 
 puts forth its leaves and petals, adorns the place which 
 it inhabits with its beauty, and possesses an internal 
 system of qualities, whereby it is enabled to bring forth 
 its seed or fruit, in the appointed season ; so does the 
 Christian. 
 
 But, on the other hand, like the flowers also, some 
 Christians may be said to grow on the mountain tops, 
 some in valleys, some in the waters, and others in dry 
 ground. Different colours, forms, and sizes distinguish, 
 them from each other, and produce a diversity of charac- 
 ter and appearance, which affords a delightful variety. 
 
THE YOUNa COTTAGER. 199 
 
 both for tlie purposes of use and beauty. Yet is that 
 variety perfectly consistent with their essential -unity of 
 nature in the vegetable kingdom, to which they all 
 equally belong. 
 
 In another particular they likewise resemble. They 
 both die a natural death. The Lord ever preserves " a 
 seed to serve him," from generation to generation ; for, 
 as one disappears, another springs up to supply his 
 place. But '^ it is appointed unto all men once to die." 
 — '' Man Cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down ; 
 he fleeth as a shadow, and continueth not." — " All flesh 
 is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of tho 
 grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth 
 away." 
 
 In the midst of such diversity of Christian characters 
 there is much to love and admire. I have selected the 
 case of little Jane, as one not undeserving of notice. 
 
 It is true, she was only a child — a very poor child — 
 but a child saved by divine grace, enlightened with the 
 purest knowledge, and adorned with unaffected holiness ; 
 — she was a child, humble, meek, and lowly. She 
 "found grace in the eyes of the Lord," while she was on 
 earth ; and, I doubt not, will be seen on his right hand 
 at the last day. As such, there is preciousness in the 
 character, which will account for my attempting once 
 more to write concerning her, and describe her last 
 moments before she went to her final rest. 
 
 At a very early hour on the morning of the following 
 day, I was awoke by the arrival of a messenger, bringing 
 an earnest request that I would immediately go to the 
 child, as her end appeared to be just approaching. 
 
 It was not yet day, when I left my house to obey the 
 summons. The morning star shone conspicuously clear. 
 The moon cast a mild light over the prospect, but 
 gradually diminished in brightness, as the eastern sky 
 became enlightened. The birds were beginning their 
 
200 THE YOUNG COTTAGE K. 
 
 song; and seemed ready to ■welcome the sun's approacli. 
 The dew plentifidly covered the field, and hung sus- 
 pended in drops from the trees and hedges. A few 
 early labourers appeared in the lanes, travelling towards 
 the scene of their daily occupations. 
 
 All besides was still and calm. My mind, as I pro- 
 ceeded, was deeply exercised by thoughts concerning the 
 affecting events which I expected soon to witness. 
 
 The rays of the' morning star were not so beautiful in 
 my sight, as the spiritual lustre of this young Christian's 
 character. Her " night was far spent ; " the morning of 
 a " better day was at hand." The sun of eternal bless- 
 edness was ready to break upon her soul with rising 
 glory. Like the moon, which I saw above me, this 
 child's exemplary deportment had gently cast a useful 
 light over the neighbourhood where she dwelt. Like 
 this moon, she had for a season been permitted to shine 
 amidst the surrounding darkness: and her rays were 
 also reflected from a luminary, in whose native splen- 
 dour her own would quickly be blended and lost. 
 
 The air was cool, but the breezes of the morning were 
 refreshing, and seemed to foretell the approach of a 
 beautiful day. Being accustomed, in my walks, to look 
 for subjects of improving thought and association, I 
 found them in every direction around me, as I hastened 
 onwards to the house where Jane lay, waiting for a 
 dismissal from her earthly dwelling. 
 
 I felt that the twilight gravity of nature was, at that 
 hour, peculiarly appropriate to the circumstances of the 
 case : and the more so, because that twilight was signifi- 
 cantly adorned with the brilliant sparklings of the star 
 on one hand, and the clear pale lustre of the waning 
 moon on the other. 
 
 When I arrived at the house, I found no one below ; 
 I paused a few minutes, and heard the girl's voice very 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 201 
 
 faintly saying, " Do you think he will come ? I should 
 be so glad — so very glad to see him before I die." 
 
 I ascended the stairs — her father, mother, and brother, 
 together with the elderly woman before spoken of, were 
 in the chamber. Jane's countenance bore the marks of 
 speedy dissolution. Yet, although death was manifest 
 in the languid features, there was something more than 
 ever interesting in the whole of her external aspect. The 
 moment she saw me, a renewed vigour beamed in her 
 eyes — grateful affection sparkled in her dying face. 
 
 Although she had spoken just before I entered, yet 
 for some time afterwards she was silent, but never took 
 her eyes off me. There was animation in her look — 
 there was more — something like a foretaste of heaven 
 seemed to be felt, and gave an inexpressible character of 
 spiritual beauty, even in death. 
 
 At length she said, "This is very kind. Sir — I am 
 going fast — I was afraid I should never see you again in 
 this world." 
 
 I said, " My child, are you resigned to die." 
 
 " Quite." 
 
 " Where is your hope ? " 
 
 She lifted up her finger, pointing to heaven, and then 
 directed the same downward to her own heart, saying 
 successively as she did so, " Christ there, and Christ Aere." 
 
 These words, accompanied by the action, spoke her 
 meaning more solemnly than can easily be conceived. 
 
 A momentary spasm took place — Looking towards 
 her weeping mother, she said, ''I am very cold — but it 
 is no matter — it will soon be over " 
 
 She closed her eyes for about a minute, and, on open 
 ing them again, said, ''I wish Sir, when I am gone, you 
 would tell the other children of the parish, how good the 
 Lord has been to me, a poor sinner —tell them, that they 
 who seek him early will find him — tell them, that the 
 ways of sin and ignorance are the ways to ruin and hell 
 
202 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 — and pray tell them^ Sir, from me, that Christ is indeed 
 the Way, the Truth, and the Life — he will in no wise 
 cast out any that come. — Tell them that I, a poor 
 girl " 
 
 She was quite exhausted, and sunk for awhile into a 
 torpid state, from which, however, she recovered grad- 
 ually, uttering these expressions: ''Where am I? — I 
 thought I was going — Lord, save me." 
 
 " My dear child, you will soon be for ever in his arms, 
 who is now guiding you by his rod and staff through the 
 valley of the shadow of death." 
 
 ''I believe so, indeed I do," said she; ''I long to be 
 with him! — how good, how great, how merciful I — 
 Jesus, save me, help me through this last trial." 
 
 She then gave one hand to her father, the other to 
 her mother, and said, ''God bless you, God bless you — 
 seek the Lord — think of me, when I am gone — it may 
 be for your good — remember your souls — 0! for 
 Christ's sake remember your souls — then all may be 
 well — you cannot think what I have felt for both of 
 you — Lord, pardon and save my dear father and mother." 
 
 She then took hold of her brother's hand, saying, 
 "Thomas, I beg of you to leave off your bad ways — 
 read the Bible — I give you mine — I have found it a 
 precious book. Do you not remember our little brother, 
 who died some years since? — he was praying to the last 
 moment of his life. Learn to pray, while you are in 
 health, and you will find the comfort and power of it 
 when you come to die ; but, first of all, pray for a new 
 heart — without it you will never see God in heaven — 
 your present ways lead to misery and ruin — may the 
 Lord turn your heart to love and follow him I " 
 
 To the other woman she said, " I thank you. Dame 
 
 K , for all your kindness since I have been ill — you 
 
 have been a Christian friend to me, and I hope the Lord 
 will remember you for it, according to his rich mercy : — 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 203 
 
 you and I have many a time talked together about death ; 
 and though I am the youngest, he calls me first to pass 
 through it ; but, blessed be his name, I am not terrified. 
 I once thought I never could die without fear; but 
 indeed I feel quite happy, now it is come ; and so will 
 you, if you trust him — he is the God both of the old 
 and the young." 
 
 " Ah, my child ! " said the woman, " I wish I was aa 
 fit to die as you are ; but I fear that will never be — my 
 sins have been many, very many." 
 
 ^'Christ's blood cleanseth from all sin," said the child 
 
 At this moment, instead of growing weaker, through 
 the fatigue of so much speaking, she seemed to gather 
 fresh strength. She turned to me with a look of sur- 
 prising earnestness and animation, saying, 
 
 ''You, Sir, have been my best friend on earth — you 
 have taught me the way to heaven, and I love and thank 
 you for it — you have borne with my weakness and my 
 ignorance — you have spoken to me of the love of Christ, 
 and he has made me to feel it in my heart — I shall see 
 him face to face — he will never leave me nor forsake 
 me — he is the same, and changes not. Dear Sir, God 
 bless you." 
 
 The child suddenly rose up, with an unexpected exer- 
 tion, threw her livid, wasted arms around me, as I sat 
 on the bedside, laid her head on my shoulder, and said 
 distinctly. "God bless and reward you — give thanks 
 for me to Him — my soul is saved — Chiist is every thing 
 to me. Sir, we shall meet in heaven, shall we not ? — O 
 yes, yes — then all will be peace — peace — peace — " 
 
 She sunk back on the bed, and spoke no more — fetched 
 a deep sigh — smiled — and died. 
 
 At this affecting moment the first rays of the morning 
 sun darted into the room, and filled my imagination 
 with the significant emblem of "the tender mercy of 
 God, whereby the day-spring from on high hath visited 
 
204 THE, YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 US, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the 
 shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace." 
 
 It was a beam of light, that seemed at once to describe 
 the glorious change which her soul had now already 
 experienced ; and, at the same time, to shed the promised 
 consolations of hope over the minds of those who wit- 
 nessed her departure. 
 
 This was an incident obviously arising from a natural 
 cause ; but one which irresistibly connected itself with 
 the spiritual circumstances of the case. 
 
 For some time I remained silently gazing on the 
 breathless corpse, and could hardly persuade myself that 
 Jane was indeed no longer there. 
 
 As I returned homeward, I found it difficult to repress 
 the strong feelings of affection, which such a scene had 
 excited. Neither did I wish it. Eeligion, reason, and 
 experience, rather bid us indulge, in due place and season, 
 those tender emotions, which keep the heart alive to its 
 most valuable sensibilities. To check them serves but 
 to harden the mind, and close the avenues which lead to 
 the sources of our best principles of action. 
 
 Jesus himself wept over the foreseen sorrows of Jeru- 
 salem. He ivept also at the grave of his friend Lazarus. 
 Such an example consecrates the tear of affection, while 
 it teaches us, '' concerning them which are asleep, not to 
 sorrow, as those which have no hope." 
 
 I soon fell into meditation on the mysterious subject 
 of the flight of a soul from this world to that of 
 departed spirits. 
 
 " Swifter than an arrow from the bow or than the rays 
 of light from the sun, has this child's spirit hastened, in 
 obedience to its summons from God, to appear in his 
 immediate presence. How solemn a truth is this for 
 universal consideration I But, ' washed in the blood of 
 the Lamb that was slain,' and happily made partaker 
 of its purifying efficacy, she meets her welcome at the 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 205 
 
 throne of God. She has nothing to fear from the frowns 
 of divine justice. Sin, death, and hell are all vanquished 
 through the power of Him who hath made her more 
 than conqueror. He will himself present her to his 
 Father, as one of the purchased lambs of his flock — as 
 one whom the Spirit of God ' has sealed unto the day 
 of redemption.' 
 
 "What a change for her! from that poor tattered 
 chamber to the regions of Paradise I from a bed of straw 
 to the bosom of Abraham I from poverty, sickness, and 
 pain, to eternal riches, health, and joy ! from the condi- 
 tion of a decayed, weary pilgrim in this valley of tears, 
 to that of a happy traveller safely arrived at home, in 
 the rest that remaineth to the people of God ! 
 
 " I have lost a young disciple, endeared to me by a 
 truly parental tie. Yet how can I complain of that as 
 lost, which God has found ? Her willing and welcome 
 voice no longer seeks or imparts instruction here. But 
 it is far better employed. The angels, who rejoiced over 
 her when her soul first turned to God, who watched the 
 progress of her short pilgrimage, and who have now 
 carried her triumphantly to the heavenly hills, have 
 already taught her to join 
 
 ' In holy song, their own immortal strains. 
 
 Why then should I mourn ? The whole prospect, as it 
 concerns her, is filled with joy and immortality. ' Death 
 is swallowed up in victory.' " 
 
 As I looked upon the dew-drops which rested on the 
 grass and hung from the branches of the trees, I observed 
 that the sun's rays first filled them with beautiful and 
 varied colours ; then dried them up, and they were seen 
 no longer. 
 
 Thus it was with myself. The tears which I neither 
 would nor could restrain, when I first began thus to 
 reflect on the image of the dying chamber of little Jane, 
 
 18 
 
206 THE YOUNG COTTAGE E. 
 
 were speedily brightened by the vivid sunshine of hope 
 and confidence. They then gradually yielded to the 
 influence of that divine principle which shall finally 
 wipe the tear from every eye, and banish all sorrow and 
 sighing for evermore. 
 
 On the fourth day from thence, Jane was buried. I 
 had never before committed a parishioner to the ground 
 with similar affections. The attendants were not many, 
 but I was glad to perceive among them some of the 
 children who had been accustomed to receive my weekly 
 private instruction along with her. 
 
 I wished that the scene might usefully j.mpress their 
 young hearts, and that God would bless it to their edifi- 
 cation. 
 
 As I stood at the head of the grave, during the service, 
 I connected past events, which had occurred in the 
 churchyard, with the present. In this spot Jane first 
 learned the value of that gospel which saved her soul. 
 Not many yards from her own burial-place, was the 
 epitaph which has already been described as the first 
 means of affecting her mind with serious and solemn 
 conviction. It seemed to stand at this moment as a 
 peculiar witness for those truths which its lines pro- 
 claimed to every passing reader. Such an association 
 of objects produced a powerful effect on my thoughts. 
 
 The evening was serene — nothing occurred to inter- 
 rupt the quiet solemnity of the occasion. 
 
 " Peace " was the last word little Jane uttered, v/hile 
 living ; and peace seemed to be inscribed on the farewell 
 scene at the grave, where she was laid. A grateful 
 remembrance of that peace revives in my own mind, as 
 I write these memorials of it ; and, O I may that peace 
 which passeth all understanding, be in its most perfect 
 exercise, when I shall meet her again at the last day. 
 
 Attachment to the spot where this young Christian 
 lay, induced me to plant a yew-tree, close by the head 
 
THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 207 
 
 of her grave, adjoining the eastern wall of the church. 
 I designed it as an evergreen monument of one who was 
 dear to memory. The young plant appeared healthy for 
 a while, and promised by its outward vigour long to 
 retain its station. But it withered soon afterwards, and, 
 like the child whose grave it pointed out to notice, early 
 faded away and died. 
 
 The yew-tree proved a frail and short-lived monument. 
 But a more lasting one dwells in my own heart. And 
 perhaps this narrative may be permitted to transmit her 
 memory to other generations, when the hand and heart 
 of the writer shall be cold in the dust. 
 
 Perchance some, into whose hands these pages may 
 fall, will be led to cultivate their spiritual young plants 
 with increased hope of success, in so arduous an endea- 
 vour. May the tender blossoms reward their care, and 
 bring forth early and acceptable fruit ! 
 
 Some, who have perhaps been accustomed to under- 
 value the character of very youthful religion, may hereby 
 see that the Lord of grace and glory is not limited in tho 
 exercise of his power by age or circumstance. It some- 
 times appears in the displays of God's love to sinners, 
 as it does in the manifestation of his works in the hea- 
 vens, that the least of the planets moves in the nearest 
 course to the sun ; and there enjoys the most powerful 
 influence of his light, heat, and attraction. 
 
 The story of this Young Cottager involves a clear 
 evidence of the freeness of the operations of divine grace 
 on the heart of man; of the inseparable connexion 
 between true faith and holiness of disposition ; and of the 
 simplicity of character which a real love of Christ trans- 
 fuses into the soul. 
 
 How many of the household of faith, in every age, 
 
 " Alike unknown to fortune and to fame," 
 
 have journeyed and are now travelling to their '' city of 
 
208 THE YOUNG COTTAGEE. 
 
 habitation," throngli the paths of modest obscurity and 
 almost unheeded piety ! It is one of the most interesting 
 employments of the Christian Minister to search out 
 these spiritual lilies of the valley, whose beauty and 
 fragrance are nearly concealed in their shady retreats. 
 To rear the flower, to assist in unfolding its excellencies, 
 and bring forth its fruit in due season, is a work that 
 delightfully recompenses the toil of the cultivator. 
 
 While he is occupied in this grateful task of labouring 
 in his heavenly Master's garden, some blight, some 
 tempest may chance to take away a favourite young 
 blossom, in a premature stage of its growth. 
 
 If such a case should befall him, he will then, perhaps, 
 as I have often done, when standing in pensive recollec- 
 tion at little Jane's grave, make an application of these 
 lines, which are inscribed on a grave-stone erected in the 
 same churchyard, and say, 
 
 " This lovely bud, so young and fair, 
 Call'd hence by early doom, 
 Just came to show how sweet a flower 
 In Paradise would bloom." 
 
 • Of THU^ 
 
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