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MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 LINDLEY MURRAY: 
 
 IN A SERIES OF LETTERS, 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 WITH A PREFACE AND A CONTINUATION OF THE MEMOIRS, 
 
 BY ELIZABETH FRANK. 
 
 Jirto Itorfe: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY SAMUEL WOOD AND SONS, RICHARD WOOD, COLLINS AND 
 
 HANNAY, COLLINS AND CO , MAHI.ON DA.V, G AND C. CARVILL, 
 
 W. B GILLEY, E. BLISS AND E. WHITK, AND A. T. GnODRICH : 
 
 Philadelphia, B. AND T. KITE, AND TOWAK AND HOGAN ; 
 
 Boston, RICHARDSOil AND LORU. 
 
 1827, 
 
ill 
 
 Samuel Wood and Sons, Printers. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IN presenting this little volume to the public, I am solicitous 
 to state the reasons which led to its publication ; and I flatter 
 myself they will prove satisfactory. 
 
 The celebrity which the subject of these Memoirs had ob- 
 tained, and the interest which he had excited, by his arduous 
 and successful endeavours to promote the literary, moral, and 
 religious improvement of youth, often induced me to think 
 that, after his decease, a short and authentic account of his 
 life and character, would be acceptable to the public. To that 
 part of the public more immediately benefited by his labours, 
 the work would, I apprehended, prove peculiarly pleasing. 
 
 Under these impressions, I made, at different periods, some 
 notes and observations, preparatory to an undertaking of this 
 nature, f was, however, sensible that, from various circum- 
 stances, particularly from my not having been acquainted with 
 Mr. Murray till he was considerably advanced in life, I was not 
 qualified to execute the task as I could wish. I was convinced 
 too, that no person, except himself, possessed that accurate 
 knowledge of the events of his life, and the formation of his 
 character, which would render the work truly interesting and 
 instructive. His friends in America had had but little inter- 
 course with him, except by letter, since the fortieth year of 
 his age : his friends in England had, of course, known him only 
 since that period, when his character and principles were 
 formed ; and from the ill state of his health, his subsequent 
 life was spent in retirement. I had heard various reports re- 
 specting him, and I had also seen a printed account, which, 
 though apparently not originating in any ill will, or in any ill 
 design, were utterly void of foundation,* I was apprehensive, 
 
 * I do not, by any means, allude to a short biographical sketch, in- 
 serted in the European Magazine, 1803 ; and thence copied into various 
 periodical publications : that account, as far as it goes, is perfectly au- 
 thentic; and, in every particular, strictly consistent with the tenoiir of 
 these Memoirs. 
 
IV 
 
 that, after his death, some of these accounts, or others of a 
 similar nature, might obtain currency, and even find their way 
 into respectable publications, if not prevented by a true and 
 well authenticated statement of facts. 
 
 These circumstances induced me earnestly to wish that he 
 might become his own biographer. But I knew that the deli- 
 cacy of his mind would, at least in the first instance, revolt at 
 the proposal. I therefore contented myself with hinting to 
 him my intention of writing, if I should survive him, a short 
 ficcount of his life ; and I requested his assistance only in sup- 
 plying me with a few materials, relative to the period preced- 
 ing my acquaintance with him It was not without many ar- 
 guments, and much solicitation, that I could induce him to ac- 
 knowledge the propriety of my proposal, and to promise com- 
 pliance. The work, however, was not begun till long after- 
 wards ; and it was frequently suspended, on account of his 
 numerous literary avocations, and the weak state of his health, 
 At length, after many interruptions, and demurs respecting its 
 propriety, it was completed in a series of letters addressed to 
 myself. I was so well'pleased with the performance ; and I 
 believed that it would be so much more agreeable and inter- 
 esting in the author's own words and manner, than in any I 
 could devise, that I relinquished my original idea. I could 
 not be satisfied to receive what he had written, as materials 
 only : but I strongly urged him to continue the work to the 
 time of his writing; and to allow me, (if circumstances should 
 seem to require the measure,) to publish it, after his decease, 
 in the form in which he had written it. To this, after much 
 consideration, he consented ; continuing to express an appre- 
 hension, that neither the subject, nor the manner in which it is 
 treated, is worthy of public notice and approbation: an opin- 
 ion in which, I believe, few readers, will concur. 
 
 As some persons may be inclined to think, that I acted im- 
 properly in inducing him to write these Memoirs, and after- 
 wards to consent to their publication, I must, in justice to my- 
 self, be allowed to make a few observations on the subject. 
 Many pious persons have written memoirs of their own lives, 
 
and some even purposely for publication ; and such works have 
 been perused with much interest and edification by the most 
 respectable part of the community. I should not have urged 
 the proposal, had I not been persuaded that Mr. Murray's ob- 
 jections to it. had no other foundation than a humble sense of 
 his own merit, and an unwillingness to intrude himself unne* 
 cessarily on the attention of the world ; and that the removing 
 of these objections, might, without doing him any injury, or 
 exciting any improper sentiments in his mind, be the means of 
 introducing to the public a pleasing and instructive little work. 
 Without his consent, I should not have deemed myself author- 
 ized to publish it ; fully concurring in sentiment with him, that 
 the publishing of any letter, without permission from the writer, 
 is, to say the least, a flagrant breach of decorum, of honour, 
 and of that confidence which is the basis of all social and 
 friendly intercourse. 
 
 If, notwithstanding this explanation, there should still, in 
 the apprehension of any person, appear the slightest cause of 
 censure, I trust that it will fall on the editor who first suggest- 
 ed the idea of the work, and strongly urged the execution 
 of it ; and not, in any degree, on the departed author. I can 
 truly say, that every sentiment which he expressed, during 
 the whole course of the discussion, was strictly consistent, on 
 the one hand, with the integrity of his principles, and the deli- 
 cacy of his feelings ; and on the other, with the wish which 
 he candidly avowed, of not unnecessarily withholding any 
 thing, that might tend to the gratification of friendship, and of 
 innocent or even laudable curiosity, if not to the promotion 
 of higher objects. The suggestion that the serious reflec- 
 tions with which this little work abounds, might be beneficial, 
 especially to young persons, seemed much to reconcile him to 
 the publication. 
 
 It may not be improper to state, that these Memoirs are 
 published exactly as I received them from the author : I have 
 neither added, nor diminished, any thing ; not having thought 
 myself at liberty, nor indeed having any wish, to make the 
 slightest variation. 
 
VI 
 
 I have annexed to the Memoirs, a short account of the 
 concluding years of the author's life, his character, and some 
 remarks on his various publications : an addition that seemed 
 necessary to complete the information, which this little vol- 
 ume is designed to convey. In what I have written, I am not 
 sensible that I have, in any respect, departed from the exact 
 truth. I can, on this occasion, fully adopt the sentiment which 
 Dr. Beattie expresses with regard to his son: "In order to 
 convey a favourable notion of the person of whom I speak, I 
 have nothing to do but to tell the simple truth." 
 
 I had abundant opportunity of being acquainted with the 
 life and character of the late much esteemed Lindley Murray. 
 During many years, from motives of friendship to himself and 
 his wife, I lived under his roof; and afterwards, having remov- 
 ed into a house, which I had purchased in the suburbs of the 
 city of York, about half a mile from his residence, I was in 
 the habit of visiting them very frequently. Some readers may, 
 indeed, think that I have given unnecessary proof of intimate 
 acquaintance, by relating many particulars, which they may 
 deem too minute. To them it may appear that I have, with 
 an unhallowed or injudicious hand, removed the veil, which 
 retirement had cast over my friend, and which shaded him 
 from the glare of public observation. But it must be allowed, 
 that in the representation which I have given of him, I have 
 only exhibited him to the many as he appeared to the com- 
 paratively few, who were intimately acquainted with him; and 
 that the more he was known, the more he was loved and es- 
 teemed. In his character there was no affected singularity ; 
 and in his habits, there were no peculiarities, except such as 
 resulted from a judicious or necessary conformity to unavoida- 
 ble circumstances. Nor was there any thing in his conduct, 
 or even in the detail of his domestic arrangements, which rer 
 quired concealment ; or which could not bear the test of near 
 approach, and close examination. I may further shield my- 
 self under the example and authority of Dr. Johnson. In his 
 Lives of the Poets, he narrates, with evident satisfaction,, 
 what I am sure most persons will peruse with interest, many 
 
vn 
 
 particulars apparently more trivial than any which I have re- 
 lated: and in his Rambler, he judiciously observes ; "The 
 business of the biographer is to lead the thoughts into domes- 
 tic privacies, and display the minute details of daily life." 
 
 I should with much pleasure, agreeably to my own wish, 
 and to the suggestion of others, have enriched this work with 
 a selection from Mr. Murray's letters, or with copious extracts 
 from them : but I am not authorized to assume this privilege. 
 On a particular occasion he received an application for leave 
 to publish some of his letters ; which, after mature delibera- 
 tion, he declined giving. The subject was thus brought under 
 his consideration ; and in consequence he expressed, very 
 strongly, both at that time and subsequently, his wish and re- 
 quest that after his decease, none of his letters should on any 
 occasion, or in any manner, be published. And that this re- 
 quest might not be forgotten, nor his meaning misunderstood, 
 he has left it in writing. He never, I am convinced, wrote a 
 line of which he had cause to be ashamed : but his letters, 
 though multifarious, were chiefly on subjects of private or 
 family business, or on his literary concerns ; or effusions writ- 
 ten on the spur of the moment, relating to incidents or occa- 
 sions of a local and temporary nature. In objecting to the 
 publication of his letters, he was influenced, not merely by 
 modesty, Jbut by various considerations. 
 
 Some years since, the proprietors of his works, with great 
 liberality, requested him to allow them to have his portrait 
 taken by an eminent artist ; which I am sorry to say, he de- 
 clined. Several little sketches were made, by various per- 
 sons who occasionally visited him : but all of these had little 
 if any resemblance of him, except a profile, which I have re- 
 ceived through the kindness of Mr. Sansom of Philadelphia. 
 It was taken by him, in 1799, when he was on a visit at Hold- 
 gate ; but it has not yet been engraven. After Mr. Murray's 
 decease, several persons went to view his remains : amongst 
 others, Mr. Westoby, a miniature painter, who, for his own 
 sntisfaction, made a sketch of the features of the deceased ; 
 
via 
 
 from which he afterwards formed the portrait which is now 
 annexed to this volume. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to observe that, if any profit should 
 arise to the editor, from the publication of Mr. Murray's Me- 
 moirs, it will, in conformity with his practice, be applied, like 
 that on all his other works, to charitable and benevolent pur- 
 poses. 
 
 I present to the public the Memoirs which my friend has 
 written of his life, with a firm, but humble confidence, that they 
 will meet a favourable reception ; and that few readers will 
 find any thing (o regret in them but their brevity. They will 
 perhaps not be unacceptable or uninteresting, as a correct and 
 pleasing specimen of the epistolary style, and as the last com- 
 position that will be produced to the world, of an esteemed 
 and highly useful writer ; for with respect to the few manu- 
 scripts which he has left, none are prepared, or designed, for^ 
 publication ; and in regard to his letters, his request will, I 
 doubt not, be held sacred. But this little volume possesses 
 stronger and more important claims to favour and approba- 
 tion than any I have yet mentioned. To the philosopher, it 
 affords a striking instance of a character formed to a high de- 
 gree of excellence, and rising into eminence, not by adventi- 
 tious advantages, but chiefly by its own native energy and 
 exertion; to the moralist, the virtuous principles which it re- 
 commends, and which, in some degree, it exemplifies from the 
 earliest dawn of reason to the latest period of life, will doubt- 
 less be highly gratifying ; to the young, it will, I trust, prove 
 a stimulus to the due improvement of their intellectual and 
 moral powers, and the dedication of them to the glory of their 
 great Creator, and the benefit of their fellow-creatures : and 
 on all, it will, I hope, forcibly inculcate the important lesson of 
 pious acquiescence in the Divine Will, and the duty and hap- 
 piness of cultivating, even under trying and discouraging cir- 
 cumstances, a contented, cheerful, and benevolent disposition. 
 
 The Mount, York, 
 August, 1826, 
 
N XV 
 
 p 1 
 
 ^ 
 
 A 
 
MEMOIRS, 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 I HAVE not forgotten the re- 
 peated and urgent requests which have been 
 made to me, to communicate some memoirs of 
 my life, especially of its earlier periods, for the 
 gratification of friendship. But a reluctance to 
 write so particularly on the subject of myself, 
 and my own concerns, has hitherto prevented me 
 from engaging in a work of this nature. I can 
 not, however, any longer refuse to comply with 
 a proposal, which is supported by the soothing 
 recommendations of esteem and regard, and by 
 a friendship which has subsisted between us for 
 
 3 
 
many years. But after all, I am doubtful 
 whether any parts of such a life as mine has 
 been, can afford much satisfaction, or answer 
 the expectations which may have been formed 
 on the subject. Perhaps, indeed, when I shall 
 have bidden adieu to this transient scene, the 
 events here recorded, may acquire an interest, 
 which, at present, they do not possess. If this 
 should be the case, and they should sometimes 
 excite the recollection of our friendship, and 
 produce reflections of a pleasing or useful nature, 
 they will not have been wholly written in vain. 
 With these views then, I enter on my little 
 history. And as it will have some advantages, I 
 shall form the narrative into a series of familiar 
 letters. 
 
 It is always a delicate point to speak, or to 
 write, properly, concerning one's self. But as I 
 have been persuaded to undertake a work in- 
 volving this difficulty, I must accommodate 
 myself to it, as well as I am able. Being at once 
 the subject and the narrator, it will not be pos- 
 sible to prevent a very frequent recurrence of 
 the obnoxious pronoun. I will, however, study so 
 to conduct this biographical sketch, as to avoid 
 every species of undue self prominence, as well 
 as to repress whatever may be considered as false 
 delicacy. If I should sometimes err, in prose- 
 cuting these intentions, I have no doubt the veil 
 
s 
 
 of indulgence and friendship will be thrown over 
 my imperfections. 
 
 I was born in the year 1745, at Swetara, near 
 Lancaster, in the state of Pennsylvania. My 
 parents were of respectable characters, and in 
 the middle station of life. My father possessed 
 a good flour mill at Swetara: but being of an 
 enterprising spirit, and anxious to provide hand- 
 somely for his family, he made several voyages 
 to the West Indies, in the way of trade, by which 
 he considerably augmented his property. Pur- 
 suing his inclinations, he, in time, acquired large 
 possessions, and became one of the most re- 
 spectable merchants in America. 
 
 In the pursuit of business, he was steady and 
 indefatigable. During the middle period of his 
 life, he had extensive concerns in ships ; and was 
 engaged in a variety of other mercantile affairs. 
 But this great and multifarious employment, 
 never appeared to agitate or oppress his mind : 
 he was distinguished for equanimity and compo- 
 sure. And I have often heard it remarked, that 
 by his conversation and deportment, no person 
 would have imagined, that he had such a weight 
 of care upon him. When in the company of his 
 friends, he was so thoroughly unbent, that per. 
 sons unacquainted with the nature and variety 
 of his business, might naturally suppose that he 
 had very little employment. This trait may be 
 
justly considered as an evidence of strong pow- 
 ers of mind. These had been cultivated by atten- 
 tion to business, and by much intercourse with 
 the world. But my father did not possess the 
 advantages of a liberal education; by which his 
 talents and virtues might have been still more 
 extensively useful. 
 
 My mother was a woman of an amiable dispo- 
 sition, and remarkable for mildness, humanity, 
 and liberality of sentiment. She was indeed, a 
 faithful and affectionate wife, a tender mother, 
 and a kind mistress. I recollect with emotions 
 of affection and gratitude, her unwearied solici- 
 tude for my health and happiness. This excel- 
 lent mother died some years after I had been 
 settled in life. And though I had cause to 
 mourn for the loss of her, yet I had reason to be 
 thankful to Divine Providence, that I had been 
 blessed with her for so long a period, and par- 
 ticularly through the dangerous seasons of child- 
 hood and youth. 
 
 Both my parents, who belonged to the society 
 of Friends, were concerned to promote the re- 
 ligious welfare of their children. They often 
 gave us salutary admonition, and trained us up 
 to attend the public worship of God. The Holy 
 Scriptures were read in the family: a duty which, 
 when regularly and devoutly performed, must 
 be fraught with the most beneficial effects. I 
 
recollect being, at one time, in a situation of the 
 room, where I observed that my father, on read- 
 ing these inspired volumes to us, was so much 
 affected as to shed tears. This, which I suppose 
 was frequently the case, made a pleasing and 
 profitable impression on my young mind, which 
 I have often remembered with peculiar satisfac- 
 tion. Our family was rather numerous. My 
 parents had twelve children, of whom I was the 
 eldest. But the course of time has reduced us 
 to a small number. At the present period, (the 
 summer of 1806,) only four of us remain. 
 
 That activity of body, for which I was re- 
 markable in youth and mature life, commenced 
 at an early age.* When I was only nine months 
 
 * The first months of the author's life afforded no promise 
 either of bodily or mental vigour. Till he was about half a year 
 old, he was almost perpetually crying. His countenance gave no 
 indication of intelligence. His mother was little aware of the 
 comfort which she should afterwards receive from him, and of 
 the honourable distinction which awaited him. She often said, 
 that if, at that time, Providence had been pleased to take away 
 her first-born, she should have thought the dispensation mer- 
 ciful, both to the poor little infant and its parents. But after 
 that period, his health gradually improved; and his strength, 
 spirit, and activity, exceeded his age. From various accounts, 
 and from many little anecdotes,, which I have heard, I can not 
 but conclude, that his childhood and youth were lovely ; and 
 formed a natural and beautiful prelude to the wisdom, piety, 
 and benevolence., which his advanced years exhibited. Though 
 
old, I frequently escaped, as I have been in- 
 formed, from the care of the family ; and, un- 
 noticed by them, made my way from the house 
 to the mill, which were more than a hundred 
 yards distant from each other. As soon as I 
 could run about, I proved to be, not only an 
 active, but a mischievous child. I played many 
 tricks, which did not denote the best disposition, 
 and which gave a wrong bias to my vivacity. 
 This perverse turn of mind might have been 
 checked in the bud, if it had received suitable, 
 early correction. 
 
 But I had a very fond grandmother, with 
 whom I was a great favourite, and who often 
 protected me from proper chastisement, when 
 I richly deserved it. This indulgence gave full 
 scope to my propensities; and prevented, for a 
 time, that happy restraint, which is of so much 
 importance to the disposition and habits of chil- 
 dren, and which has so much influence on their 
 happiness through life. The irregular vivacity 
 
 from his extraordinary vivacity, and exuberance of spirits, 
 fee was inclined to playfulness, and frolic, and, at times, to some 
 degree of mischievousness ; yet he possessed every quality 
 that can adorn that period of life : activity of body and mind ; 
 an ardent desire for knowledge ; docility in submitting to 
 superior reason ; a mild, obliging temper ; a heart, grateful, 
 aflectionate, and highly susceptible of religious feelings. 
 
 EDITOR. 
 
which I possessed, received, however, a very sal- 
 utary control, by my being afterwards placed 
 under the care of a discreet and sensible aunt, 
 who was determined to bring me into some de- 
 gree of order and submission. The great indul- 
 gence with which I had been treated, must have 
 rendered the contest rather severe : for, on a 
 particular occasion, I embraced the opportunity 
 of getting out of a window, and running about 
 on the roof of a small tenement; which was, 
 however, so high, that a fall would have endan- 
 gered my life. My aunt was in great distress ; 
 and I believe endeavoured, but in vain, to in- 
 fluence my fears, and, by this means, induce me 
 to return. I moved about for a while, in this 
 perilous situation, and probably enjoyed my tem- 
 porary independence. She, at last, with great 
 prudence, entreated me very tenderly to come to 
 her. But though this affected me, I did not 
 comply till I had obtained her promise, that I 
 should not be corrected. She kept her word; 
 but I think she did not relax, in any degree, the 
 general rigour of her discipline towards me. I 
 was at length completely subdued, arid brought 
 into regular ohedience : and this event proved 
 comfortable to myself, as well as relieving to 
 every one that had any care of me. To this 
 good aunt I am under particular obligations. 
 Her wise and salutary management, may have 
 
8 
 
 prepared me for many enjoyments, and prevent- 
 ed many miseries of life. 
 
 At an early period, about my sixth or seventh 
 year, I was sent to the city of Philadelphia, that 
 I might have the advantage of a better school 
 than the country afforded. I well remember 
 being some time at the academy of Philadel- 
 phia; the English department of which was then 
 conducted by the truly respectable Ebenezer 
 Kinnersley. He exercised great care over his 
 pupils, and from what I recollect of this in- 
 structer of youth, and what I have read of him, 
 I have reason to regret, that my continuance in 
 that seminary was of short duration. I remem- 
 ber to have read there with pleasure, even at that 
 age, some passages in " The Travels of Cyrus;" 
 and to have been agreeably exercised in the 
 business of parsing sentences. 
 
 From this academy I was taken, to accom- 
 pany my parents to North Carolina. My father 
 conceived, that some commercial advantages 
 would attend a temporary residence in that pro- 
 vince. When I first landed there, I was much 
 delighted with roving about, after a long con- 
 finement on ship board. In one of these little 
 excursions, I found a few shillings ; which were 
 readily expended in some loaves of bread, for 
 the refreshment of the sailors. These people had 
 been kind to me, during the voyage; and I 
 
could not, therefore, think of any more pleasing 
 application of my treasure, than in treating them 
 with some excellent fresh bread. Their grateful 
 acceptance, and enjoyment, of this little gift, 
 was doubtless a rich reward for my attention to 
 them. 
 
 In the year 1753, my father left Carolina-, 
 and, with his family, settled at New-York. In 
 this city, I was placed at a good school, in which 
 I made the usual progress of young learners. 
 Being extremely fond of play, I believe I rarely 
 neglected any opportunity of indulging this pro- 
 pensity. At the times of vacation, I generally 
 enjoyed myself with diversions, till the period for 
 returning to school approached. I then applied 
 myself vigorously to the task that had been pre- 
 viously assigned me ; and I do not recollect that 
 I ever failed to perform it, to the satisfaction of 
 my teacher. A heedless boy, I was far from 
 reflecting, how much more prudent it would 
 have been, if I had, in the first place, secured the 
 lesson, and afterwards indulged myself in my 
 playful pursuits. These would not then have 
 been interrupted, by uneasy reflections on the 
 subject of my task, or by a consciousness of un- 
 warrantable negligence. Sometimes I absented 
 myself from school, to enjoy a greater degree of 
 play and amusement. During these pleasures, 
 the idea of impending correction, would occa- 
 
 4 
 
10 
 
 sionally come across my mind : but I resolutely 
 repelled it, as an intruder which would unneces- 
 sarily imbitter my present enjoyment. I con- 
 cluded that if I must be corrected, I would not 
 lose the pleasure I then had : and I gave full 
 scope to my diversions. Had I allowed myself 
 proper time to consider consequences, I might 
 have prevented both the disgrace and the pain 
 of punishment, as well as that degree of insen- 
 sibility to dishonourable action, which such fear- 
 less irregularities are apt to produce. 
 
 About this period, a very happy impression 
 was made upon my mind, by a piece which was 
 given me to write, and in the performance of 
 which I had to exhibit a specimen of my best 
 hand writing. The sheet was decorated round 
 its edges with a number of pleasing figures, dis- 
 played with taste and simplicity. In the centre, 
 my performance was to be contained. This was 
 a transcript of the visit and salutation of the 
 angels to the shepherds, near Bethlehem, who 
 were tending their flocks by night. The beauty 
 of the sheet ; the property I was to have in it ; 
 and the distinction which I expected from per- 
 forming the work in a handsome manner ; pre- 
 pared my mind for relishing the solemn narra- 
 tive and the interesting language of the angels 
 to the shepherds. I was highly pleased with the 
 whole. The impression was so strong and de- 
 
il 
 
 lightful, that it has often occurred to me, through 
 life, with great satisfaction; and, at this hour, it 
 is remembered with pleasure. The passage has 
 scarcely ever been read by me, without emotions 
 of an interesting nature. Independently of the 
 attractive circumstances which I have depicted, 
 the narrative and message are, indeed, most 
 important and affecting to every serious mind. 
 If parents and others who have the care of young- 
 persons, would be studious to seize occasions of 
 presenting the Holy Scriptures to them, under 
 favourable and inviting points of view, it would 
 probably be attended with the happiest effects. A 
 veneration for these sacred volumes, and a pleas- 
 ure in perusing them, may be excited by agreea- 
 able and interesting associations ; and these im- 
 pressions, thus early made, there is reason to be- 
 lieve, would accompany the mind through the 
 whole of life: a consideration which is of the ut- 
 most importance. 
 
 But though I might sometimes be disposed, at 
 this period of life, to think and to act properly, 
 I was often impelled by inclinations of a very 
 different nature. I had a curious propensity to 
 discover and observe the natural dispositions of 
 animals. And this curiosity was, in some in- 
 stances, so strong as to make me overlook the 
 uneasiness which, by teasing them, was occa- 
 sioned to the animals themselves. I was not 
 
12 
 
 naturally of a cruel disposition ; but was rather 
 pleased to see the animal creation about me, 
 enjoy themselves. The propensity I have men- 
 tioned was, however, sometimes unwarrantably 
 indulged: so much so, as to mark a depraved 
 turn of mind, which, even now, gives me pain to 
 recollect. I ought to have reflected, that all 
 animals have assigned to them by the Author of 
 nature, a pleasurable existence ; and that it is 
 our duty to second his intention, as we have 
 opportunity; and especially to avoid all occa- 
 sions of inflicting upon them unnecessary pain. 
 An additional excitement to this duty, is, that 
 whilst we encourage a disposition to promote the 
 pleasures, or increase the pains, of the animals 
 which surround us, we are cherishing the general 
 spirit of benevolence, or its contrary ; which will 
 naturally be extended towards our fellow. crea- 
 tures. In this point of view, it is of very great 
 importance to cultivate, in young persons espe- 
 cially, proper dispositions and conduct towards 
 the creatures endued with animal life. 
 
 The unwarrantable curiosity which I have just 
 mentioned, continued to operate, in some degree, 
 for many years; and, occasionally, showed itself 
 long after I was grown up. I recollect a par- 
 ticular instance of it, which was very near 
 proving fatal to me ; and which, though a little 
 out of the course of my narrative, may not 
 
13 
 
 improperly be related in this place. As nearly 
 as 1 can recollect, the incident was as follows. 
 
 When I was in England, in the year 1771, 1 
 went to see the elephants, which were kept at 
 the Queen's stables, Buckingham-house. Whilst 
 I was gratifying myself with observing the huge 
 creatures, and their various actions and pecu- 
 liarities, I took occasion to withdraw from one of 
 them a part of the hay, which he was collecting 
 on the floor with his proboscis. I did this with my 
 cane; and watched the animal very narrowly, to 
 prevent a stroke from him, which I had reason 
 to expect. The keeper said that I had greatly 
 displeased the elephant, and that he would never 
 forget the injury. I thought but little of this 
 admonition, at the time. But about six weeks 
 afterwards, when I accompanied some other 
 persons, on a visit to the elephants, I found that, 
 though probably several hundred people had 
 been there since my preceding visit, the animal 
 soon recognised me. I did not attempt to mo- 
 lest or tease him at all ; and 1 had no concep- 
 tion of any concealed resentment. On a sudden, 
 however, when I was supposed to be within the 
 reach of his proboscis, he threw it towards me 
 with such violence, that if it had struck me, 1 
 should probably have been killed, or have re. 
 ceived some material injury. Happily for me, 1 
 perceived his intention, and being very active, I 
 
14 
 
 sprung out of his reach. To every other person 
 present, he was gentle and good-tempered ; and 
 his enmity to me arose, as the keeper declared, 
 solely from the circumstance of the little affront 
 which I had formerly put upon him. This in- 
 cident made some impression upon me ; and per- 
 haps contributed to subdue a curiosity, which 
 could not be gratified but at the expense of the 
 feelings of others. 
 
 It is now time to make a pause in the narra- 
 tive. My next letter will pursue it, from the 
 period of my leaving school, and being trained 
 to business. 
 
 I am affectionately, c. 
 
15 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 IT is doubtless of great im- 
 portance to the interest and happiness of young 
 persons, as well as of some consequence to their 
 friends and the public, that their inclinations, 
 genius, and bodily constitutions, should be con- 
 sulted, when they are to be entered on an em- 
 ployment, which will probably continue for life. 
 If the bent of their mind and other qualifica- 
 tions, are duly regarded, success may reasonably 
 be expected: if they are opposed, the progress 
 must be slow, and the ultimate attainments very 
 limited. 
 
 At an early age, I was placed in the counting 
 house of my father, who was desirous of train- 
 ing me to the mercantile profession. I did not, 
 however, relish this employ, and the confinement 
 to which it subjected me. I wished to be any 
 thing rather than a merchant. And this per- 
 haps may be accounted for, by the strictness 
 with which I was kept to business, and the 
 undue restraints as I conceived, which were put, 
 
16 
 
 at that early period, on my lively spirits and 
 allowable indulgences. My father kept steady 
 to his purpose. He probably thought that my 
 dislike to the business would, in time, abate. 
 He sent me to Philadelphia, influenced, perhaps, 
 by a hope, that a residence with a merchant at a 
 distance from home, would better reconcile me 
 to the employment. But this expedient did not 
 answer his expectations ; and, after some time, 
 he consented to my return to New-York. 
 
 About this period, I contracted a taste for read- 
 ing, and a desire for a greater degree of literary 
 improvement. The pleasures of study, and the 
 advantages and distinctions, which learning and 
 knowledge had conferred on individuals who 
 fell under my observation, augmented my wishes 
 for the acquisition of science and literature. 
 Another experiment was, however, made to re- 
 concile me to a mercantile life. My father 
 presented me with a considerable number of 
 silver watches, which he designed as a little 
 trading stock; and which he had just imported, 
 with many other articles, from England. By 
 having the property of these watches, and by the 
 prospect of increasing that property on the sale of 
 them, and thus extending my concerns, in fresh 
 purchases with the product, I began to relish the 
 occupation. The spirit of trading took hold of 
 me; and 1 contemplated with pleasure, the 
 
17 
 
 future enlargement of my funds. In short, I 
 entered into the business with ardour and satis- 
 faction. At the same time I continued in my 
 father's counting house ; and occasionally assisted 
 in the routine of his commercial affairs. I doubt 
 not, that he surveyed this success of his schemes 
 for my advantage, with peculiar complacency. 
 But riot long after the commencement of my 
 trading engagements, an incident occurred, which 
 seemed to blast all his expectations, and to 
 threaten the most serious consequences to myself. 
 
 I have sometimes hesitated, respecting the 
 propriety of cbmmunicating this little piece of 
 my history. But as it is intimately connected 
 with events of this period, and contains some 
 traits of disposition and character in early life, 
 I have at length concluded to relinquish my 
 scruples on this subject. The following is the 
 occurrence to which I allude. 
 
 Though my father, as the events already men- 
 tioned demonstrate, had an earnest desire to 
 promote my interest and happiness, yet he 
 appeared to me, in some respects, and on 
 some occasions, rather too rigorous. Among 
 other regulations, he had, with true parental 
 prudence, given me general directions not to 
 leave the house, in an evening, without previ- 
 ously obtaining his approbation. I believe that 
 his permission was generally and readily pro- 
 
 5 
 
18 
 
 cured. But a particular instance occurred, in 
 which, on account of his a.bsence, I could not 
 apply to him. I was invited by an uncle to 
 spend the evening with him; and trusting to 
 this circumstance, and to the respectability of my 
 company, I ventured to break the letter, though 
 I thought not the spirit, of the injunction 
 which had been laid upon me. The next 
 morning, I was taken by my father, into a 
 private apartment, and remonstrated with for my 
 disobedience. In vain were my apologies. No- 
 thing that I could offer, was considered as an 
 extenuation of my having broken a plain and 
 positive command. In short, 1 received a very 
 severe chastisement ; and was threatened with a 
 repetition of it, for every similar offence. Being 
 a lad of some spirit, I felt very indignant at such 
 treatment, under circumstances which, as I con- 
 ceived, admitted of so much alleviation. I could 
 not bear it ; and I resolved to leave my father's 
 house, and seek in a distant country, what I 
 conceived to be an asylum, or a better fortune. 
 Young and ardent, I did not want confidence in 
 my own powers; and I presumed that, with health 
 and strength which I possessed in a superior de- 
 gree, I could support myself, and make my way 
 happily through life. I meditated on my plan ; 
 and came to the resolution of taking my books 
 and all my property with me, to a town in the in- 
 
19 
 
 terior of the country; where 1 had understood 
 there was an excellent seminary, kept by a man 
 of distinguished talents and learning. Here I 
 purposed to remain, till I had learned the French 
 language, which I thought would be of great use 
 to me ; and till I had acquired as much other 
 improvement as my funds would admit. With 
 this stock of knowledge, I presumed that I 
 should set out in life under much greater ad- 
 vantages, than I should possess by entering 
 immediately into business, with my small por- 
 tion of property, and great inexperience. I was 
 then about fourteen years of age. My views 
 being thus arranged, I procured a new suit of 
 clothes, entirely different from those which I had 
 been accustomed to wear, packed up my little 
 all and left the city, without exciting any suspi- 
 cion of my design, till it was too late to prevent 
 its accomplishment. 
 
 In a short time I arrived at the place of desti- 
 nation. I settled myself immediately as a 
 boarder in the seminary, and commenced my 
 studies. The prospect which I entertained was 
 so luminous and cheering, that, on the whole, I 
 did not regret the part I had acted. Past recol- 
 lections and future hopes combined to animate 
 me. The chief uneasiness which I felt in my 
 present situation, must have arisen from the re- 
 flection of having lost the society and attentions 
 
20 
 
 of a most affectionate mother, and of having oc- 
 casioned sorrow to her feeling mind. But as I 
 had passed the Rubicon, and believed I could 
 not be comfortable at home, I contented myself 
 with the thought, that the pursuit of the objects 
 before me, was better calculated than any other, 
 to produce my happiness. In this quiet retreat, 
 I had as much enjoyment as my circumstances 
 were adapted to convey. The pleasure of study, 
 and the glow of a fond imagination, brightened 
 the scenes around me. And the consciousness of 
 a state of freedom and independence, undoubted- 
 ly contributed to augment my gratifications, and 
 to animate my youthful heart. But my continu- 
 ance in this delightful situation, was not of 
 long duration. Circumstances of an apparently 
 trivial nature, concurred to overturn the visiona- 
 ry fabric I had formed, and to bring rne again 
 to the paternal roof. 
 
 I had a particular friend, a youth about my 
 own age, who resided at Philadelphia. I wished 
 to pay him a short visit, and then resume my 
 studies. We met according to appointment, at 
 an inn on the road. I enjoyed his society, and 
 communicated to him my situation and views. 
 But before I returned to my retreat, an occur- 
 rence took place which occasioned me to go to 
 Philadelphia. When I was about to leave that 
 city, as I passed through one of the streets, I 
 
21 
 
 met a gentleman who had some time before 
 dined at my father's house. He expressed great 
 pleasure on seeing me ; and inquired when I 
 expected to leave the city. I told him I was 
 then on the point of setting off He thought 
 the occasion very fortunate for him. He had 
 just been with a letter to the post-office; but 
 found that he was too late. The letter, he said^ 
 was of importance ; and he begged that I woult 
 deliver it with my own hand, and as soon as v 
 arrived at New-York, to the person for whom i 
 was directed. Surprised by the request, and un- 
 willing to state to him my situation, I engaged 
 to take good care of the letter. 
 
 My new residence was at Burlington, about 
 twenty miles from Philadelphia. I travelled 
 towards it rather pensive, and uncertain what 
 plan to adopt respecting the letter. I believe 
 that I sometimes thought of putting it into the 
 post-office; sometimes, of hiring a person to 
 deliver it. But the confidence which had been 
 reposed in me; the importance of the trust; and 
 my tacit engagement to deliver it personally; 
 operated so powerfully on my mind, that after 
 I had rode a few miles, I determined, whatever 
 risk and expense I might incur, to hire a carriage 
 for the purpose, to go to New-York as speedily 
 as possible, deliver the letter, and return imme- 
 diately. My design, so far as it respected the 
 
22 
 
 charge of the letter, was completely accom- 
 plished. I delivered it, according to the direc- 
 tion, and my own engagement. I was, however, 
 obliged to remain in New-York that night, a 
 the packet boat, in which I had crossed the bay, 
 .could riot sail till the next morning. This was 
 a mortifying circumstance, as I wished to return 
 very expeditiously. The delay was, however, un- 
 avoidable. I put up at an inn, near the wharf 
 from which the packet was to sail in the morning, 
 and waited for that period with some anxiety. 
 
 I thought I had conducted my business with 
 so much caution, that no one acquainted with 
 me, had known of my being in the city. I had, 
 however, been noticed by some person who knew 
 me; and, in the evening, to my great surprise, 
 my uncle, whom I have mentioned before, paid 
 me a visit. He treated me affectionately, and 
 with much prudent attention ; and, after some 
 time, strenuously urged me to go with him to 
 my father's house : but I firmly refused to com- 
 ply with his request. At length he told me, 
 that my mother was greatly distressed on account 
 of my absence; and that I should be unkind and 
 undutiful, if I did not see her. This made a 
 strong impression upon me. I resolved, there- 
 fore, to spend a short time with her, and then 
 return to my lodgings. The meeting which I 
 had with my dear and tender parent was truly 
 
23 
 
 affecting to me. Every thing that passed, evinced 
 the great affection she had for me, and the sor- 
 row into which my departure from home had 
 plunged her. After I had been some time in 
 the house, my father unexpectedly came in : 
 and my embarrassment, under these circum- 
 stances, may easily be conceived. It was, how- 
 ever, instantly removed, by his approaching me 
 in the most affectionate manner. He saluted 
 me very tenderly ; and expressed great satisfac- 
 tion on seeing me again. Every degree of re- 
 sentment was immediately dissipated. I felt 
 myself happy, in perceiving the pleasure which 
 my society could afford to persons so intimately 
 connected with me, and to whom I was so much 
 indebted, We spent the evening together in 
 love and harmony : and I abandoned entirely, 
 without a moment's hesitation, the idea of leav- 
 ing a house arid family, which were now dearer 
 to me than ever. 
 
 The next day, a person was sent to the place 
 of my retreat, to settle all accounts, and to bring 
 back my property. I was taken into still greater 
 favour than formerly; and was never reproached 
 by my parents, for the trouble and anxiety whieh 
 I had brought upon them. My father probably 
 perceived that I felt sufficiently on the occasion; 
 and he was, perhaps, conscious, that the disci- 
 pline he had exerted, was not altogether justi- 
 
24 
 
 fiable. When I reflect on this rash and impru- 
 dent adventure; on the miseries in which it 
 might have involved me; and on the singular 
 manner in which I was restored to the bosom of 
 my family; I cannot avoid seeing the hand of 
 Divine Providence in my preservation; and 
 feeling that I ought to be humbly and deeply 
 thankful for the gracious interposition. 
 
 Before I quit this subject, I must observe, 
 that soon after I had left home, inquiries were 
 made to discover the place to which I had re- 
 treated. I knew that this was the case : but I 
 had made up my mind not to return, and subject 
 myself again to a treatment which I had felt to 
 be improper and unmerited. I therefore declined 
 all the proposals and entreaties of individuals 
 who were friends to the family, and who endea- 
 voured to shake the resolutions I had formed. 
 And I am persuaded that, at this period, nothing 
 would have induced me to relinquish them, but 
 a security against the repetition of the harsh dis- 
 cipline which I had experienced. I rejoice, 
 however, that a train of events so unexpected, 
 and so contrary to my fixed purposes, happily 
 brought me again to the paternal mansion, and 
 settled me safely under its protection. 
 
 A short time after I had returned to my 
 father's family, I solicited the privilege of having 
 a private tutor, to instruct me in classical knowl- 
 
25 
 
 edge and liberal studies. With this request, 
 my father very generously complied. A tutor 
 of talents and learning, was procured for me : 
 and I pursued this new career with great alacrity 
 of mind. I sat up late, and rose early, in the 
 prosecution of my studies. In the cold season 
 of the year, I had fuel brought at night into my 
 study, that I might have it ready for kindling 
 a fire at the time of rising, which was frequently 
 before daylight. My tutor was very attentive, 
 and gave me great encouragement to persevere. 
 He stimulated my application, by portraying 
 the advantages of science, and by the commen- 
 dations which he bestowed on my progress. 
 This close attention to study, and confinement 
 to the house, did not, however, agree with my 
 constitution. My sickly hue proclaimed the in- 
 tenseness of my application. I found it neces- 
 sary, therefore, to abate the ardency of my pur- 
 suit, and to intermix bodily exercise with my 
 studies. This procedure had a happy effect. I 
 continued regularly employed in my literary oc- 
 cupation, and could not but be pleased with the 
 advancement I had made, with the augmentation 
 of knowledge, and the improvement of my men- 
 tal powers. 
 
 It is, however, proper to observe, that my at- 
 tainments under this tutor, were very limited. 
 They served indeed to improve my taste, and 
 
 6 
 
26 
 
 increase my desire, for learning and knowledge. 
 But this taste and desire, were not, at any future 
 period of life, accompanied by that ardour and 
 steadiness of pursuit, which often ensure great 
 success : and my stock of knowledge and litera- 
 ry improvement has, consequently, been always 
 far from extensive* 
 
 Though I was a youth of great vivacity, and, 
 by my imprudence and love of pleasure, I had 
 been led into many follies and transgressions ; 
 yet I always entertained a high opinion of the 
 enjoyments which piety and virtue bestow ; and 
 I venerated the character of those whom I 
 deemed to be truly religious. Such was my 
 opinion of their attainments and happiness, that 
 I probably conceived them to be more exempt 
 from trouble, and more raised above the anxieties 
 of life, than they really were. I knew not the 
 trials of their virtue ; the continual watchfulness 
 necessary to resist temptations ; their affliction 
 on viewing the crimes and lapses of their fellow- 
 creatures; their sorrowful recollection of their 
 own past offences, joined to the sense of much 
 remaining imperfection; and their solicitude, 
 lest, amidst the changes of the human state, 
 something might, at last, take place, that would 
 prevent their entrance into the mansions of eter- 
 nal peace. If, indeed, I could have estimated 
 these deductions from the enjoyments of pious 
 
27 
 
 and virtuous minds, I believe that I should still 
 have pronounced them the happiest of their 
 species, even in this life : because their satis- 
 factions were of the purest and most elevated 
 kind ; and because their troubles arose from the 
 most generous feelings, and were often mingled 
 with the sweetest consolation, and the noblest 
 hopes. This high opinion of the happiness of 
 virtue, and the respectability of its possessors, 
 (which I have never ceased to entertain,) made 
 me listen, with reverence and affection, to their 
 admonitions. Every thing of this nature, and 
 the animated encouragements to a religious life, 
 which I heard from these exemplary persons, 
 whether in public or in private, made a good im- 
 pression on my mind ; and sometimes produced 
 regret, to perceive how distant I was from that 
 felicity, which I believed these good people pos* 
 sessed. 
 
 But whatever might be my follies and actual 
 deviations from the line of rectitude, my prin- 
 ciples were never disturbed by infidelity or scep- 
 ticism. I always had the happiness, since I was 
 capable of reflecting on the subject, of having 
 my sentiments fixed in favour of the Christian 
 religion ; and no argument that I ever met with, 
 in company or books, had any injurious effects 
 upon me. Some of my acquaintance were either 
 deists or sceptics: but I always found replies to 
 
28 
 
 their reasonings, which perfectly satisfied my 
 own mind. This happy persuasion I attribute, 
 under Divine Providence, to my having occa- 
 sionally looked into, early in life, Leland's View 
 of the Deistical Writers ; Butler's Analogy of 
 Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Consti- 
 tution and Course of Nature ; Sherlock on Prov- 
 idence ; and Sherlock's Discourses. These 
 books, with some others, were the means of com- 
 municating to my mind, such a survey of the 
 Christian religion and the Divine economy, that 
 I was never much, if at all, embarrassed, by 
 the plausible schemes and objections, which men 
 of prejudiced minds and short-sighted views of re- 
 ligion, had fabricated and produced. I am firmly 
 persuaded, that the perplexity and doubts, with 
 regard to Christianity and its evidences, which 
 many sensible and well-disposed minds have en- 
 countered, and the absolute infidelity of others, 
 may be fairly attributed to the scanty informa- 
 tion which they received, on these subjects, 
 during the period of their education, or that by 
 which it was immediately succeeded. 
 
 Not long after I had commenced my studies 
 under a private tutor, I entered into a society of 
 young persons, for the purpose of debating on 
 subjects of importance and difficulty, and of ex- 
 ercising ourselves in the art of elocution. The 
 society met weekly ; and as the members knew 
 
29 
 
 the subject that would be considered at their 
 next meeting, they had opportunity of preparing 
 themselves for the discussion. I generally em- 
 ployed a considerable portion of this prepara- 
 tory time, in reading books on the question; in 
 reflecting attentively upon it; in collecting the 
 various arguments which bore upon the subject ; 
 in considering objections, with the answers to 
 them; and in disposing the whole into some 
 method and order. This institution enlarged my 
 stock of knowledge, promoted the business of 
 arranging my ideas, and probably produced a 
 small degree of correctness and fluency of ex- 
 pression. These are some of the benefits which 
 result from societies of this nature. But they 
 frequently produce, in young persons, a spirit of 
 disputation and loquacity ; and, at least, an in- 
 clination to scepticism, even on subjects of great 
 importance. By discovering how much may be 
 plausibly advanced against established truths, 
 and by exerting its ingenuity in support of error, 
 the youthful mind, attracted by the gloss of nov- 
 elty, and unaccustomed to distinguish between 
 the solid and the superficial, may lose, or abate* 
 its veneration for truth, virtue, and religion. 
 
 I scarcely need say, that it is of great conse- 
 quence to young persons, to have a number of 
 important truths, with the arguments which 
 support them, clearly settled in their minds. 
 
30 
 
 These established principles, as far as they ex- 
 tend, not only satisfy the understanding, and 
 direct, with confidence, the practice of life ; but 
 serve as foundations to support other truths, to 
 the investigation of which the intercourse with 
 men unavoidably leads. If the juvenile mind 
 were duly impressed with truths thus evident 
 and well supported, it would probably acquire 
 such a degree of strength and perspicacity, such 
 a taste for rectitude of sentiment, as would in- 
 dispose it for the reception of erroneous and 
 sophistical positions. It would, therefore, be 
 highly desirable to cultivate, amongst young 
 persons, such little societies as I have described, 
 for the regular discussion of interesting topics, 
 provided they could be so conducted as to avoid 
 the evils, with which they are too often con- 
 nected. If these conferences could be managed 
 under the superintendence of respectable per- 
 sons, whose sound judgment, and comprehensive 
 minds replete with science and literature, would 
 enable them to sum up the arguments advanced? 
 with correctness and liberality ; to give the side 
 of truth the advantages of eloquence and dig- 
 nity ; and to detect the fallacy of error, and the 
 subtleties of false reasoning; the benefit of such 
 societies would certainly be obtained with the 
 fewest possible disadvantages. But if this privi-* 
 lege cannot be procured, perhaps the next to it 
 
31 
 
 would be, to select, from the members of the 
 society, a few persons the most distinguished for 
 talents, learning, and virtue ; who should, by 
 turns, officiate as presidents ; and whose special 
 business it should be, to support the cause of 
 truth and reason, and to lay open distinctly 
 every species of sophistry, which might occur in 
 the course of the various discussions. The first 
 of these plans would certainly, in a superior de- 
 gree, promote order, and inspire a chastened 
 emulation, amongst the members of these little 
 societies. It would, in fact, confer upon them a 
 decorum and respectability, which in many 
 points of view, would prove highly and perma- 
 nently advantageous to young persons. 
 
 As my mind improved, and my views en- 
 larged, I became still more attached to literary 
 pursuits. I wished for a profession connected 
 with these pursuits ; and the study of the law 
 particularly attracted my attention. When I 
 was about seventeen or eighteen years of age, I 
 expressed this inclination to my father: but it met 
 with his decided opposition ; and he took great 
 pains to divert my thoughts from the subject 
 He represented the temptations which I should 
 have to encounter in the practice of the law; 
 and which, he said, would probably lead me to 
 deviate from the principles and conduct of that 
 religious society of which I was a member. He 
 
32 
 
 displayed the advantages I should possess, both 
 in point of emolument and respectability, by the 
 situation in which he was able to place me, as a 
 merchant ; and earnestly entreated me to relin- 
 quish all prospects of a mode of life, to which 
 there were attached so many difficulties ; and to 
 bend my inclinations towards an employment 
 which, I must know, promised almost certain 
 success. I believe I was properly sensible of my 
 father's wishes to establish me advantageously in 
 the world; and of the concern it gave him, to 
 perceive my rooted objection to an occupation, 
 which he very justly considered as both lucrative 
 and honourable. But I found that my inclina- 
 tion was not to be controlled by motives of in- 
 terest; and though I did not then urge the 
 point, I kept my object steadily in view. After 
 some time had elapsed, I applied myself again 
 vigorously to the subject : but I adopted a new 
 mode of proceeding. I stated the case at large 
 in writing. My dissatisfaction with the mer- 
 cantile employment, however beneficial and re- 
 spectable it might be, and my earnest desire for 
 a literary profession, were fully set forth. All 
 the arguments which I could muster in support 
 of this propensity, and the benefits which it was 
 likely to produce, were enumerated ; and every 
 objection which had been advanced against my 
 views and wishes, was distinctly brought for- 
 
S3 
 
 ward; and such answers given to the whole, as 
 I thought were satisfactory. 
 
 This little performance which contained seve- 
 ral pages, was shown to my father; it was also 
 occasionally shown to some of our friends, par- 
 ticularly to a gentleman of the law, Benjamin 
 Kissam, Esq. who was my father's counsellor, 
 and a man of eminence and integrity in his pro- 
 fession. The statement had a most favourable 
 effect. The counsellor himself became my advo- 
 cate : and, in a short time, my father consented 
 to place me under his care and tuition. A con- 
 siderable sum of money was advanced to him 
 by my father as a fee for initiating me, in the 
 business of my new and favourite occupation, 
 and I entered into it with great alacrity. Time 
 now rolled on very pleasantly; and the hope of 
 being settled in a profession adapted to my 
 wishes, gilded my future prospects. After some 
 time, my father very generously presented me 
 with an excellent library, which comprehended 
 both books of law, and some parts of general lite- 
 rature ; and which were well calculated to aid and 
 invigorate my studies. I cannot, however, say 
 that I always found the study of the law to be 
 pleasant. It contains many barren and uninvi- 
 ting tracts, and extensive fields of laborious em- 
 ployment. It abounds with discordant views, 
 with intricate and perplexing discussions, and 
 
 7 
 
 >' 
 
34 
 
 requires much deep and patient investigation. 
 But I was not discouraged with my occupation. 
 It was the profession of my own choice : it was a 
 respectable business: and it promised to afford 
 me a competent support. 
 
 The celebrated John Jay, Esq. late governor 
 of the state of New York, was my fellow student, 
 in the office of our worthy patron, for about two 
 years. His talents and virtues gave, at that 
 period, pleasing indications of future eminence. 
 He was remarkable for strong reasoning powers, 
 comprehensive views, indefatigable application, 
 and uncommon firmness of mind. With these 
 qualifications, added to a just taste in literature, 
 and ample stores of learning and knowledge, he 
 was happily prepared to enter on that career of 
 public virtue, by which he was afterwards hon- 
 ourably distinguished, and made instrumental 
 in promoting the good of his country. This 
 meritorious person, after having occupied some 
 of the highest stations, which the United States 
 could confer upon him, and having lived to see 
 his country abounding in men of eminence and 
 talents, conceived it to be allowable for him, per- 
 haps his duty, to withdraw from the fatigues of 
 office, the contests and anxieties of public life. 
 As a private country gentleman, he has lived on 
 his estate, not far from the city of New York, for 
 many years. Here, in the bosom of an amiable 
 
35 
 
 family, and in useful private occupations, he has, 
 I trust, enjoyed that tranquillity which he sought. 
 I hope that whilst the past affords him many 
 pleasing recollections, and the future is contem- 
 plated with composure, the evening of his life 
 will be brightened with the most cheering and 
 animating prospects. This tribute to the merit 
 of an old friend, will not, I believe, be deemed 
 an impertinent digression from the work in which 
 I am engaged. To the regular progress of that 
 work, I now return. 
 
 After four years from the commencement of 
 my law studies, in the office of my truly re- 
 spectable instructer, I was called to the bar; and 
 received a license to practise, both as counsel and 
 attorney, according to the custom of that time, 
 in all the courts of the province of New-York. 
 I soon commenced business, and prosecuted it 
 with success. It answered the expectations I 
 had formed; and I believe my family and 
 friends were satisfied with the prospects which 
 attended me. 
 
 Before I entered into business, and about the 
 twentieth year of my age, I conceived a strong 
 attachment and affection for a young woman of 
 personal attractions, good sense, a most amiable 
 disposition, and of a worthy and respectable 
 family. It was not long, before I perceived that 
 
36 
 
 my regard met with a favourable reception. 
 Time, and opportunity of knowing each other, 
 confirmed our attachment ; and after two years' 
 acquaintance, we had the satisfaction of being 
 united in the tender bonds of marriage. 
 
 We have lived together more than forty 
 years; and through the whole course of that 
 period, she has been to me a truly affectionate 
 and excellent wife. In all our varied conditions 
 of life, I have received from her the most une- 
 quivocal proofs of attachment, and solicitude for 
 my welfare. During my long confinement, on 
 account of bodily infirmities, she has cheerfully 
 met our privations; tenderly sympathized with 
 me ; and been cordially disposed to forego her 
 own ease, to afford me assistance and comfort. 
 She has, indeed, been a great blessing to me; 
 and I have abundant cause to be deeply thankful 
 to God, for this unmerited favour, and its con- 
 tinuance to the present time. It yields me great 
 satisfaction, to perceive that our esteem and love 
 for each other, have not diminished with ad- 
 vancing years. The evening of our day has, 
 indeed, been illumined by brighter rays, than 
 those which our morning or meridian light 
 afforded. And I earnestly hope, that, whilst 
 life remains, we shall be favoured, by Divine 
 Grace, to cherish those sentiments and virtues, 
 
37 
 
 which will exalt the happiness of our union ; sup- 
 port us under every trial; and prepare our minds 
 for the enjoyment of a better world. 
 
 * * 
 
 I now finish this letter, 
 And remain, 
 
 With sincere regard, &c. 
 
LETTER III. 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 THE two most important events 
 of a man's life, are generally those of his entering 
 into business for himself, and his forming the 
 connexion of marriage. When these events are 
 auspicious, and especially when interest is not 
 too earnestly pursued, there is great reason to 
 look for success, and a good portion of enjoy- 
 ment through life, provided that correct princi- 
 ples and virtuous habits accompany them. I 
 have already observed, that my marriage was 
 happy, and my business promising : and as our 
 connexions were respectable, and disposed to pro- 
 mote our welfare, I had much to make me thank- 
 ful to Divine Providence, and to encourage me 
 to persevere in- a course of industry and useful- 
 ness. I was not influenced by the desire of ac- 
 quiring great property, and was therefore not 
 disturbed by the cares and anxieties which too 
 often accompany that disposition. 
 
39 
 
 Not long after I had commenced business, 
 some circumstances rendered it proper for me to 
 make a voyage to England ; where my father 
 had been about a year on commercial matters 
 of importance, which made his presence there, at 
 that time, very expedient. For many years pre- 
 vious to his leaving America, he had been con- 
 siderably indisposed : at the best, his constitu- 
 tion was but delicate. The climate of England, 
 however, proved very beneficial. I found him 
 so much improved in his general health, that I 
 could not but wish that he would continue in 
 this country for a few years : and he was so 
 strongly impressed with the hope of receiving 
 benefit, by such a residence, as well as by the 
 advantages which would result to his concerns 
 in trade, that he communicated his views to my 
 mother, and expressed his wish to see her and 
 his children in England. They accordingly, in 
 the course of a few months, came to him : and 
 as I did not expect to return very soon, my wife 
 was persuaded to accompany them across the 
 Atlantic. I had therefore the comfort and satis- 
 faction of meeting again my beloved wife, 
 mother, brother, and sisters. The whole family, 
 thus met together, in a country so distant from 
 their native shores, could not but feel themselves 
 highly gratified, and peculiarly attached to one 
 another. My dear mother was sensible of the 
 
40 
 
 improved state of my father's health ; and cheer- 
 fully consented to reside a few years in England, 
 for its complete establishment. 
 
 When I first came to this country, I had not 
 fixed any time for my continuance in it : but 
 soon after my arrival, it appeared probable that, 
 in the course of a year, I should return to Amer- 
 ica. There was not, therefore, much oppor- 
 tunity for my dear partner and myself to gratify 
 our curiosity, in surveying what was instructive 
 and interesting in this highly cultivated and 
 happy land. We, however, made a good use of 
 our time ; and were much pleased with the nov- 
 elty and information, which, on every side, con- 
 tinually pressed for attention. It was a peculiar 
 gratification to me that, in these excursions and 
 surveys, I had the society of one, in whose en- 
 tertainment and instruction I felt myself warmly 
 interested. Every enjoyment was, I believe, 
 heightened to both of us, by the consciousness of 
 each other's participation. 
 
 In the latter part of the year 1771, we re- 
 turned to New-York. My parents and the rest 
 of the family remained in England several years. 
 But after this period of trial, my father perceiv- 
 ed, that the benefit which he derived from the 
 change of climate, was only temporary. His for- 
 mer indisposition resumed its wonted strength. 
 Having therefore arranged his mercantile affairs 
 
41 
 
 entirely to his satisfaction, he, with his family, 
 embarked for New York; and arrived safely 
 there in the year 1775. 
 
 With regard to myself, I observe that, on my 
 return to New York, I resumed the practice of 
 the law. I had many friends and connexions ; 
 which renewed the pleasing hopes I had formerly 
 possessed, of succeeding in business. Attention 
 and industry were not wanting ; and I enjoyed 
 myself in again settling to my profession. An 
 event, however, occurred at this time, which 
 threatened a diminution of my business, par- 
 ticularly among the society of which 1 was a 
 member. This society had lately purchased in 
 the city, a valuable piece of ground, for the pur- 
 pose of erecting upon it a large meeting house, 
 for Divine worship. I was employed to prepare 
 the deed of conveyance. I found every thing 
 regular, drew up the instrument, and, when it 
 was engrossed, delivered it to the trustees, for 
 their inspection before it was executed. When 
 I expected the completion of this business, one 
 of the trustees called upon me, and delicately ob- 
 served, that in consequence of some doubt as to 
 the validity of the instrument, they had applied 
 to a lawyer of distinction and long established 
 practice, who declared that the conveyance was 
 void, being liable to the statutes of mortmain. 
 I was greatly surprised and hurt ; and clearly 
 
 8 
 
42 
 
 perceived, that if this opinion were not effect- 
 ually counteracted, it would strike deeply at 
 my reputation and practice as a lawyer. 1 there- 
 fore desired the person to leave the instrument 
 with me, for a little time, when, I doubted not, 
 1 should be able to satisfy the trustees, that it 
 was perfectly regular. I immediately laid the 
 conveyance before the first counsellor in the pro- 
 vince, and requested his opinion of it in writing. 
 He gave it, in the most explicit language, and 
 fully adapted to the case. It was, he said, in 
 every respect, a good deed ; and he observed, in 
 particular, that none of the statutes of mort- 
 main would affect it. My mind was completely 
 relieved by this decision. I produced the opinion 
 to the trustees, who were perfectly satisfied with 
 it ; and appeared to be much pleased, that I had 
 so happily extricated myself from the difficulty. 
 The result of this affair was exactly the reverse 
 of what might at first have been expected. It 
 established my reputation among the members 
 of the society. My business increased; and they 
 applied to me with confidence. 
 
 In the practice of the law, pecuniary interest 
 was not my only rule of action. When cir- 
 cumstances would properly admit of it, I gene- 
 rally endeavoured to persuade the person who 
 was threatened with a prosecution, to pay the 
 debt, or make satisfaction, without the trouble 
 
43 
 
 and expense of a suit In doubtful cases, I fre- 
 quently recommended a settlement of differences, 
 by arbitration, as the mode which I conceived 
 would ultimately prove most satisfactory to both 
 parties. I do not recollect that I ever encour- 
 aged a client to proceed at law, when I thought 
 his cause was unjust or indefensible : but, in such 
 cases, I believe it was my invariable practice to 
 discourage litigation, and to recommend a peace- 
 able settlement of differences. In the retrospect 
 of this mode of practice, I have always had great 
 satisfaction ; and I am persuaded that a differ- 
 ent procedure, would have been the source of 
 many painful recollections. 
 
 My business was very successful, and contin- 
 ued to increase till the troubles in America com- 
 menced. A general failure of proceedings in 
 the courts of law, then took place. This cir- 
 cumstance, joined to a severe illness, which had 
 left me in a feeble state of health, induced me to 
 remove into the country. We chose for our 
 retreat a situation on Long Island, in the district 
 of Islip, about forty miles from the city of New 
 York. Here we concluded to remain, till the 
 political storm should blow over, and the hori- 
 zon become again clear and settled. This we 
 did not expect would be very soon ; and there- 
 fore made our settlement accordingly. As our 
 place of residence w r as on the borders of a large 
 
44 
 
 bay near the ocean, I purchased a very conve- 
 nient, little pleasure-boat; which I thought would 
 not only amuse me, but contribute to the re- 
 establishment of my health. In this situation, I 
 became extremely attached to the pleasures of 
 shooting, and fishing, and sailing on the bay. 
 These exercises probably gained for me an ac- 
 cession of health and strength; and, on that 
 ground, partly reconciled me to an occupation of 
 my time, which was but little connected with 
 mental improvement. I have, however, often re- 
 gretted that so long a period should have elaps- 
 ed, without any vigorous application to study; 
 and without an improved preparation for the re- 
 turn of those settled times, when I should again 
 derive my support from the funds of knowledge 
 and judgment. The loss which I sustained, by 
 not sufficiently attending, at this time, to literary 
 pursuits and professional studies, can not easily 
 be calculated. Every expansion of the mind, 
 every useful habit, and portion of knowledge, 
 at that age especially, is not only so much pre- 
 sent gain, but serves as a principal to produce 
 an ever growing and accumulating interest 
 through life. If this advantage were duly ap- 
 preciated by young persons, it would prove a 
 most powerful stimulus to embrace every proper 
 opportunity, to enlarge the understanding, and 
 to store it with useful knowledge. 
 
45 
 
 On this occasion, I must add, that the recol- 
 lection of the time which I spent, in the pleas- 
 ures of shooting, and idly sailing about the bay, 
 affords me no solid satisfaction, in a moral and 
 religious point of view. That time, or the great- 
 er part of it, might have been employed, in doing 
 good to others, in the society and converse of 
 pious and virtuous persons, and in the perusal 
 of the sacred volume, and other religious books, 
 tending to establish the heart and life, in the 
 love arid practice of goodness. I might have so 
 occupied myself, as to have made my most im- 
 portant interests coincide with my health and 
 bodily enjoyments, instead of indulging myself 
 in that dissipation of mind, and those selfish, in- 
 jurious habits, which the amusements I had 
 adopted are too apt to produce. I do not, how- 
 ever, wish to censure the practice of other per- 
 sons, in the pursuits and amusements with which 
 they are well and conscientiously satisfied. My 
 object is, to state my own feelings and regrets, 
 on the retrospect of this part of my life. 
 
 But occupied as I was with amusement, my 
 mind was not so much attached to it, as to be 
 totally inattentive to every thing of a useful 
 nature. About a year after my residence at 
 Islip, the country became greatly distressed from 
 the scarcity of salt. The British cruisers effect- 
 ually prevented the introduction of that article 
 
46 
 
 among the Americans. And the Congress found 
 it necessary to recommend arid encourage the 
 making of it, in every place that was favourably 
 situated for the manufacture. I conceived that 
 salt works might be advantageously erected on 
 an island in the bay near which 1 resided ; and 1 
 communicated this idea to an ingenious and 
 spirited young man who was my neighbour. 
 He very readily came into the plan, and joined 
 me in the execution of it. We embraced the 
 scheme the more cordially, because we were at- 
 tached to our country, and felt for the distresses 
 in which it was involved. We procured materials 
 at a considerable expense, employed artificers ta 
 construct the works, and were just ready to begin 
 the manufacture, and reap the fruit of our la- 
 bours, when the British forces took possession of 
 New York, and consequently of Long Island. 
 This event entirely superseded our operations ; 
 as the article of salt was then abundantly intro- 
 duced into the country. Our loss was con- 
 siderable: but we had no remedy; and the 
 whole concern was, therefore, without hesitation 
 abandoned. 
 
 The employment which I had, in devising and 
 superintending these works, was not, however, 
 wholly destitute of advantage to me. The 
 motives which led to it would bear reflection ; 
 the occupation of mind and body to which it 
 
47 
 
 contributed, was salutary; and the knowledge 
 which I acquired of the business, made some 
 addition to my little stock. I had occasion too, 
 in this event, for the exercise of that virtue, 
 which submits cheerfully to disappointments. 
 This, indeed, was not, in the present instance, an 
 exercise of much difficulty. I was not naturally 
 disposed to brood over misfortunes: but pos- 
 sessed a facility, in turning from the view of them, 
 and presenting to myself objects of a different 
 complexion. This is a propensity which, under 
 proper limitations and government, is doubtless a 
 happy constitution. But, though generally bene- 
 ficial, I have often indulged it beyond those 
 limits which wisdom prescribes. A habit of 
 mind that is ever seeking for, and presenting, 
 pleasant objects; and which refuses to contem- 
 plate occasionally the disasters and the troubles 
 incident to humanity; nourishes a light and 
 frivolous temper, and prevents the good effects 
 of those salutary lessons, which the adverse oc- 
 currences of life, when properly considered, are 
 calculated to produce. 
 
 After we had resided at Islip about four years, 
 I became dissatisfied with a mode of life, which 
 consisted chiefly in amusement and bodily ex- 
 ercise. I perceived the necesssity of doing some- 
 thing that would provide permanent funds for 
 the expenses of my family. The British power 
 
48 
 
 was still maintained in New York, and appeared 
 likely to be established there : and the practice 
 of the law was completely superseded. I had, 
 therefore, no prospect of any considerable em- 
 ployment, but by settling at New York, and en- 
 tering into mercantile concerns. We removed 
 accordingly to the city, and took a situation 
 favourable for business. My father very gener- 
 ously gave me an unlimited credit, in the impor- 
 tation of merchandise from London: and after 
 forming the best judgment I could of the arti- 
 cles likely to be in demand, I made out a large 
 order. The goods arrived, and I found a ready 
 sale for them. Thus encouraged, I continued to 
 import more of them, and that extensively, every 
 season ; and soon perceived that I had engaged 
 in a very lucrative occupation. Every year 
 added to my capital, till, about the period of 
 the establishment of American independence, I 
 found myself able to gratify our favourite wishes, 
 and retire from business. 
 
 I purchased a country seat on the banks of the 
 river, about three miles from the city of New 
 York. Here we promised ourselves every enjoy- 
 ment that our hearts desired. Bellevue, for that 
 was the name of our retreat, was most delight- 
 fully situated. A noble river, a mile in breadth, 
 spread itself before us: a rich and pleasant 
 country was on the opposite shore: and our 
 
49 
 
 view extended several miles both up and down 
 the river. On this grand expanse of water, 
 vessels and boats of various descriptions, were 
 almost continually sailing. The house was neat 
 and commodious; and accommodated with a 
 spacious and elegant piazza, sashed with Vene- 
 tian blinds; which added to its coolness in sum- 
 mer, and produced a most soothing and grateful 
 effect. At the back of the mansion, was a large 
 garden, well supplied with fruit, flowers, and 
 useful vegetables : and in other directions from 
 the house, were rows of various kinds of fruit 
 trees, distinguished by their beauty and utility. 
 In the rear of the house and garden, was a 
 pleasant and fertile field, which afforded pastur- 
 age for the cattle. This little paradisiacal spot 
 was perfectly to our wishes. Here we fondly ho- 
 ped often to see our dearest connexions, and to en- 
 tertain our friends. Every comfort to be derived 
 from useful and interesting society, would, we 
 imagined, be heightened in this pleasing abode. I 
 thought too, that this retreat would be friendly 
 to study arid mental acquisitions ; that my health 
 would be improved, by the exercise which I 
 should have in rural occupations ; and that the 
 vicinity of the city and its various occupations, 
 would afford me opportunities of being useful 
 to my fellow-citizens. These hopes and views 
 appeared to be rational and well founded; and I 
 9 
 
50 
 
 felt no reluctance, or compunction, in indulging 
 them. But the pleasant prospects were soon 
 overcast: the cup of promised sweets was not 
 allowed to approach our lips. Divine Provi- 
 dence had allotted for us a different situation : 
 and I have no doubt that the allotment was 
 both wise and good ; and better for us than our 
 own fond appointments. 
 
 Before we removed to Bellevue, I had a severe 
 fit of illness, which left me in a very infirm and 
 debilitated state of body. The tone of my 
 muscles was so much impaired, that I could 
 walk but little; and this relaxation continued to 
 increase. I was besides, in the course of the day, 
 frequently affected with singular sensations of 
 chilness, succeeded by a degree of fever. My 
 situation, at times, became very distressing. I 
 was, however, encouraged by the hope, that a 
 short residence at our delightful retreat, would 
 restore me to my usual state of health and 
 strength. But season succeeded season, without 
 my receiving any salutary effect. I evidently 
 grew worse: and my friends became alarmed at 
 my situation. They generally recommended 
 travelling. Additional exercise, new scenes, and 
 drinking the waters of certain medicinal springs, 
 were thought likely to afford me assistance. As 
 my spirits were good, and life and health very 
 desirable, I cordially entered into the views of 
 
51 
 
 my friends, and, with my affectionate and sym- 
 pathizing partner, I set off for Bristol in Penn- 
 sylvania. We remained in this rural and pleas- 
 ant town a few weeks : during which time, I 
 bathed, and drank the water; but without any 
 good effect. The weather then growing ex- 
 tremely hot, Fahrenheit's thermometer being at 
 ninety degrees, we proceeded to some celebrated 
 springs in the mountains of New Jersey. Here, I 
 seemed to grow better for a few weeks : but the 
 water yielded no permanent benefit. From the 
 very elevated situation of those mountains, the 
 air was cool and refreshing : but as the roads 
 were stony and broken, I could not have the 
 advantage of regular exercise in a carriage. To 
 remedy this inconvenience, I made some efforts 
 on horseback, and some on foot : but these ef- 
 forts fatigued me to a great degree, and increas- 
 ed the debility under which I laboured. 
 
 Perceiving that neither the springs, nor the 
 situation produced any beneficial effects, and 
 travelling being one of the means for the re- 
 covery of health, which had been recommended 
 to me, we left the mountains, and bent our 
 course towards Bethlehem, in Pennsylvania, a 
 healthful and pleasant town about fifty miles 
 from Philadelphia. This is a settlement of the 
 Moravians. The situation of the place, its re- 
 freshing and salutary air, joined to the character 
 
52 
 
 of its inhabitants, made a cheering impression up- 
 on us; and we took up our quarters at the inn 
 with pleasure, and with the hope of advantage. 
 A few days after we had settled here, we were 
 most agreeably surprised, by the arrival of my 
 father, and my sister Beulah. This affectionate 
 parent had long been anxious about my health, 
 and solicitous to promote it. And perceiving 
 that we were not likely to return very soon, and 
 that I had not received much benefit, he was 
 desirous of spending a little time with us; which 
 he naturally thought would have a cheering 
 effect oft his children, in their present solitary 
 excursion. This visit was as grateful as it was 
 unexpected. My sister was a sensible and amia- 
 ble young woman, of a gentle nature and en- 
 gaging manners, to whom we were both very 
 nearly attached : we therefore formed a little 
 band, closely united by the ties of affection and 
 consanguinity. This pleasing association, joined 
 to the beauty and retirement of the place, gave 
 an animating impulse to my spirits ; so that I 
 was better at Bethlehem than I had been in any 
 other part of the journey. 
 
 There was here much to occupy the mind, and 
 to gratify curiosity. The different houses appro- 
 priated to the single brethren, the single sisters, 
 and the widows, with the various economy of the 
 society, were subjects of an interesting nature. 
 
53 
 
 The spirit of moderation, the government of the 
 passions.and the tranquillity and happiness,which 
 appeared to pervade every part of this retired set- 
 tlement, made on our minds a strong and pleasing 
 impression. We several times visited the different 
 departments; and^ at our inn, received occasion- 
 ally the visits of a number of their most respect- 
 able members. They were very communicative; 
 and attended, with liberality and good humour, 
 to the ideas which we suggested, for the improve- 
 ment of particular parts of their economy. Among 
 other observations, we took occasion to inquire, 
 whether the practice of the elders and elderesses 
 in selecting a partner for a young man who 
 wished to marry, was not sometimes attended 
 with serious inconveniences. But they seemed 
 to have no doubt, that this regulation produced 
 more happy marriages, than would be effected 
 by leaving the parties to chose for themselves. 
 A lively and sensible person, with whose conver- 
 sation we were particularly pleased, took occa- 
 sion to give us his own experience on the sub- 
 ject. He expressed himself to the following 
 effect. "When I wished to change my situa- 
 tion in, life, I applied to one of our elders, and 
 communicated the matter to him. He asked 
 me whether I had any particular young woman 
 in view. I replied in the negative ; and that I 
 wished my superiors to choose for me. Pleased 
 
54 
 
 with my answer, and the confidence reposed ia 
 them, he assured me that the greatest care should 
 be taken, to select for me a partner, who would 
 be, in every respect, proper for me. The elders 
 and elderesses consulted together, and, after a 
 suitable time, fixed on a young woman, whose 
 disposition and qualifications were correspondent 
 to my own, and which they thought were adapt- 
 ed to make me happy. We were introduced to 
 each other, in the presence of our superiors. The 
 interview was favourable : we became mutually 
 attached ; and, in a short time, we were married. 
 The event has perfectly answered our most san- 
 guine hopes. I probably should not have chosen 
 so happily, if I had been left to decide for 
 myself; but I am certain I could not have made a 
 bette t r choice." He concluded his observations 
 with a degree of animation and satisfaction, 
 which precluded all doubt of the truth of his 
 assertions. 
 
 The roads and scenery about Bethlehem were 
 very delightful. I frequently enjoyed the pleas- 
 ure they afforded, by riding in a small open 
 carriage, which gave me a good opportunity of 
 surveying the beauties of the country. In one 
 of these excursions, I observed a gate which 
 opened into some grounds that were very pic- 
 turesque. Without proper consideration, I de- 
 sired the servant who accompanied me, to open 
 
55 
 
 the gate. Almost immediately I observed a 
 group of cheerful, neatly dressed young females 
 approaching. They had been gathering black- 
 berries, a rich fruit in that country ; and each 
 of them had a little basket in her hand filled with 
 this sort of fruit. I soon perceived that I had 
 committed a trespass, in offering to enter the 
 grounds appropriated entirely to the walks of 
 females. When they came near me, I apolo- 
 gized for the intrusion, by alleging that I did 
 not know the peculiar use to which the enclosure 
 was applied. With great good nature, and gen- 
 uine politeness, some of them intimated that 
 I was perfectly excusable. I believe the number 
 of this cheerful group was about thirty, between 
 the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. The sight 
 of so much apparent innocence and happiness 
 was extremely pleasing. And whilst they stood 
 near the carriage, from which I could not con- 
 veniently alight, I thought it would be proper 
 to express my respect and good wishes for them. 
 I therefore took the liberty of addressing them 
 in a short speech ; which, as near as I can recol- 
 lect, was to the following purport. I observed 
 that it gave me particular pleasure, to see them 
 all so happy: that their situation was, indeed, 
 enviable, and singularly adapted to produce 
 much real enjoyment,' and to protect them from 
 the follies, the vices, and the miseries, of the 
 
56 
 
 world : that if they knew the troubles and ex- 
 posures, which are to be met with in the gen- 
 eral intercourse of life, they would doubly en- 
 joy their safe and tranquil seclusion from those 
 dangers, and be thankful for the privileges they 
 possessed. My harangue seemed to have a good 
 effect upon them. They smiled, and some of 
 them said that they were indeed happy in their 
 situation. A few of them then held up their 
 little baskets, and desired I would help myself 
 to some fruit. I thanked them ; and took more 
 than I wanted, that I might the better gratify 
 their benevolence. I then parted with this 
 pleasing company, and pursued an other road, 
 well satisfied with a mistake and adventure 
 which had yielded me so much heart-felt satis- 
 faction. 
 
 I must not omit to mention, that these good 
 young persons reported to their superiors the 
 whole of this transaction, with what had been 
 said on the occasion. But I found that, not- 
 withstanding my intrusion, I had lost no credit 
 with the elderesses. For they sent to inform 
 the sick gentleman, (this was the term by which 
 I was designated,) that he had full liberty, and 
 was welcome, whenever he chose, to ride in the 
 grounds appropriated to the walks of the fe- 
 males. I acknowledged the favour of so great 
 a privilege; but as I could not think it en- 
 
57 
 
 tirely warrantable and proper to make use of 
 it, I never repeated my visit to this interesting 
 place. 
 
 Of the various institutions at this settlement, 
 we particularly admired that for the benefit of 
 widows. This house met our entire approbation. 
 An asylum for those who had lost their most 
 valuable earthly treasures, and who could neither 
 receive from the world, nor confer upon it, 
 much, if any, important service, appeared to 
 have a just foundation in wisdom and benevo- 
 lence. But to detach from many of the advan- 
 tages and duties of society, young persons in the 
 full possession of health, strength, and spirits, 
 seemed to us to be, on the whole view of the 
 subject, a very questionable policy ; though cer- 
 tainly some very important moral uses were de- 
 rived from the institutions which respected the 
 single brethren and the single sisters. Having 
 formed some acquaintance with several worthy 
 persons in this happy town, and being much grat- 
 ified with our visit, we took our leave with regret. 
 I can not easily forget the pleasing impressions 
 which this settlement left upon my mind. The 
 grandeur of the neighbouring hills ; the winding 
 course of its adjacent beautiful river ; and the 
 serene, enlivening state of the atmosphere ; 
 joined to the modest and tranquil appearance of 
 the inhabitants j their frequent and devout per- 
 10 
 
58 
 
 formance of Divine worship; and their unaffect- 
 ed politeness and good humour ; are sufficient to 
 render Bethlehem a most interesting and delight- 
 ful retreat. To the calm and soothing virtues of 
 life, it is, certainly, a situation peculiarly favour- 
 able. But the moral excellences, connected 
 with arduous and dignified exertion, meet, per- 
 haps, with but few occasions here to call them 
 forth. 
 
 After we left Bethlehem, where we had spent 
 several weeks, it seemed expedient to bend our 
 course towards home. My father was affected 
 with fresh symptoms of a disorder to which he 
 had been long subject ; and he thought it would 
 not be prudent to continue his visit any longer. 
 Under these circumstances, we could not suffer 
 him and my sister to proceed on their journey 
 alone. Had he been as well as usual, it would 
 have been very agreeable to us to have remained 
 longer at Bethlehem ; and particularly to have 
 visited the place of my nativity, which was 
 about fifty miles further in the interior of the 
 country. This visit we had all contemplated ; 
 and purposed to set off for the place in a few 
 days. But my father's sudden indisposition 
 made it necessary to relinquish our views entire- 
 ly. Had we executed our purpose, I have no 
 doubt that the visit would have been to me 
 peculiarly interesting, and attended with emo- 
 
59 
 
 tions of a pleasing and serious nature ; and I 
 eould not, indeed, avoid anticipating them in 
 some degree. To have viewed the spot, where 
 I first felt the blessings of existence ; and where 
 my dear parents had extended their early cares 
 over me, and had commenced their settlement in 
 life; must have excited in me sensations highly 
 gratifying. To have reflected on the superin- 
 tendence of Divine Providence, from the first 
 hour of my existence, through a period of nearly 
 forty years; on the numberless preservations 
 from danger which, through that course of time, 
 had threatened my life, or my happiness ; and 
 on the many positive blessings with which I had 
 so long been favoured; could riot, I believe, 
 have failed to excite a lively and extraordinary 
 sense of the unmerited goodness of God to me ; 
 and would probably have proved a peculiarly 
 animating source of humble and grateful recol- 
 lection. But how pleasing and useful soever 
 this visit to Swetara might have been, pru- 
 dence required us to give it up ; and we pro- 
 ceeded, by easy stages, towards New York. 
 There we safely arrived, after an agreeable 
 journey ; in which my father's health had not 
 materially suffered, by the fatigue and exposure 
 which he encountered, and which to him were 
 unusual. 
 
60 
 
 This seems to be a proper stage for closing 
 the present letter. My next will enter on a 
 period, which was particularly interesting to me, 
 and which was occupied in a manner very differ- 
 ent from my expectations. 
 
 I am, with due respect, &c. 
 
61 
 
 LETTER IV, 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 IT is a common and just obser- 
 vation, that the blessings of this life, however 
 numerous and important, lose their relish, when 
 we are deprived of health. Many of them are 
 then imbittered, and others are totally disre- 
 garded. We are therefore naturally solicitous 
 to recover a possession so pleasing in itself, and 
 so necessary to the enjoyment of other pleasures. 
 I was the more sensible of the value of this 
 blessing, because I had lost it; and because I 
 possessed many others, which I found were, in a 
 great degree, dependent upon this. I thought, 
 indeed, that nothing besides this desirable object, 
 was wanting, to render me very happy. But, 
 without doubt, I deceived myself, in the indul- 
 gence of this fond sentiment. Had I possessed 
 health, joined to all the means of happiness with 
 which I was surrounded, it is probable that some 
 unforeseen event, something in myself, or in 
 others with whom I was connected, would soon 
 have overcast the pleasant scene; and convinced 
 
62 
 
 me practically, that unmixed enjoyment does not 
 belong to this state of existence. There is, how- 
 ever, enough to be enjoyed ; enough to make us 
 truly thankful to Divine Providence. I was 
 therefore anxious for my recovery, and omitted 
 no promising means to obtain it, whilst life was 
 yet in its prime, and the value of health was 
 proportionably enhanced. 
 
 When we were again settled at Bellevue, we 
 had rather mournfully to reflect on the little 
 benefit, if any, which my health had derived 
 from our summer excursion ; and we naturally 
 turned our attention to other means of relief that 
 might promise success. During the course of 
 my indisposition, I had found that I was gener- 
 ally better when the weather was cold : a tem- 
 porary bracing was commonly the effect of the 
 winter season. But we had observed that every 
 succeeding summer took from me more than the 
 winter had given. The prospect was therefore 
 discouraging. Under these circumstances, I con- 
 sulted one of the first physicians of the country, 
 who happened at that time to be at New York. 
 He paid a friendly attention to my situation : 
 and after maturely considering the case, advised 
 me to remove to a climate, where the summers 
 are more temperate and less relaxing; and where, 
 consequently, I might not lose, in warm weather, 
 the bracing effects produced by the rigours of 
 
63 
 
 winter. From what he knew of Yorkshire, in 
 England, he thought some parts of it might 
 prove a proper situation. On the whole, he re- 
 commended to me, in a sensible and affectionate 
 letter which I received from him, to make the 
 experiment ; and he expressed an earnest hope, 
 that it might be blessed with success. He thought 
 that my disorder was of such a nature, that me- 
 dicines would not be proper for me : " at any 
 rate," he said, " I would advise you not to take 
 much medicine." This advice was consonant 
 with the views and practice which I had long 
 adopted ; and confirmed me in my determina- 
 tion. For more than twenty years, I have al- 
 most entirely declined the use of medicines : and 
 to this I attribute, in a great measure, the good 
 appetite, and unbroken rest at nights, which, 
 during that period, I have generally enjoyed. 
 The natural tone of my stomach has not heen 
 injured by the operation of drugs, nor any new 
 disorder superinduced. I, however^ think that 
 medicines are sometimes of great use : the dis- 
 covery and due application of them, are a bless- 
 ing to mankind. In my particular case, they 
 would, I believe, have been injurious. 
 
 After deliberately considering the advice of 
 my physician, and the importance of the under- 
 taking, we were fully convinced that it was ex- 
 pedient to try the effect of a more favourable 
 
64 
 
 climate, and to make a short residence in Eng- 
 land. Dear as were our relatives and friends, 
 and our native land, we resolved to forego the 
 enjoyment of them. But hope cheered us with 
 the prospect, that the separation would not he 
 long; and that we should return to them, with 
 renewed health and spirits, and capacities of 
 greater happiness in their society. My dear wife 
 did not hesitate a moment, in resolving to ac- 
 company me to a distant country; and to render 
 me every aid, which her affection, and solicitude 
 for my happiness could suggest. 
 
 Soon after our determination was made, we 
 prepared for the voyage. The trying scene now 
 commenced of taking leave of our relations and 
 friends. Many of them accompanied us to the 
 ship, in the cabin of which we had a most solemn 
 parting. An eminent minister was present at 
 this time, for whom we had a particular esteem 
 and regard, and who prayed fervently on the 
 occasion. It was a deeply affecting time ; and, I 
 trust, produced salutary impressions on all our 
 minds. Our feelings, at the moment of separa- 
 tion, may be more easily conceived than de- 
 scribed. But satisfied with the propriety of our 
 undertaking, and consoled by the hope of 
 success, our minds gradually became tranquil 
 and resigned. With many, if not with all, of 
 those beloved connexions, we parted never to see 
 
65 
 
 them agnin, in this life: for many of them have 
 since been translated to the world of spirits. 
 But we humbly trust, that the separation will 
 not be perpetual; that, through redeeming mer- 
 cy and love, we shall be again united to virtuous 
 connexions, and happily join with them, and the 
 blessed of all generations, in glorifying our heav- 
 enly Father, and joyfully serving him for ever, 
 with enlarged minds and purified affections. 
 
 We embarked in a commodious ship, near the 
 close of the year 1784 ; and, after a prosperous 
 voyage of about five weeks, landed at Lyming- 
 ton. Near the conclusion of the voyage, we nar- 
 rowly escaped some very dangerous rocks, which 
 would, in all probability, have proved fatal to us, 
 if we had struck upon them. Thus preserved 
 by the care of a gracious Providence, we had 
 fresh cause to be humbly thankful to God, and 
 to be encouraged to trust in his goodness, for fu- 
 ture preservation and direction. 
 
 In contemplating the place where we were to 
 reside, during our continuance in England, it 
 was our frequent and special desire, that our lot 
 might be cast in the neighbourhood and society 
 of religious and exemplary persons ; from whom 
 we might derive encouragement to the practice 
 of virtue. We had lived long enough to per- 
 ceive, how strongly the human mind is influen- 
 ced, and how apt it is to be moulded, by the dis- 
 11 
 
6(3 
 
 positions and pursuits of those with whom it is in- 
 timately connected. We had felt the danger of 
 intercourse with persons, who seemed to make 
 the pleasures of this life the great object of their 
 attention; and we had derived comfort, and 
 some degree of religious strength, from the soci- 
 ety and example of good and pious persons. In 
 this desire of being settled favourably for the 
 cultivation of our best interests, we had the hap- 
 piness of being gratified ; and we consider this 
 privilege, which we have now enjoyed for more 
 than twenty years, as one of the greatest bles- 
 sings of our lives. 
 
 It may not be improper to mention in this 
 place, that when we left our native shores, we 
 fondly supposed, that in the course of two years, 
 my health might be so established, as to enable 
 us to return to our friends and country. This 
 term was the utmost boundary we had assigned 
 for our absence from home. How short sighted 
 is the mind of man ! How little do we know 
 of the future, and of the events which are to 
 occupy it ! Two and twenty years have passed 
 away since we left our native land, and little 
 hope remains of our ever being able to visit it 
 again. But resignation is our duty. And this 
 should be the more cheerful, as we have been so 
 long preserved together by Divine Providence, 
 in this happy country; where we have been 
 
67 
 
 abundantly blessed, and for which we can never 
 be sufficiently grateful. 
 
 Our attachment to England was founded on 
 many pleasing associations. In particular, I had 
 strong prepossessions in favour of a residence in 
 this country ; because I was ever partial to its 
 political constitution, arid the mildness and wis- 
 dom of its general system of laws. I knew that 
 under this excellent government, life, property, 
 reputation, civil and religious liberty, are happily 
 protected ; and that the general character and 
 virtue of its inhabitants, take their complexion 
 from the nature of their constitution and laws. 
 On leaving my native country, there was not, 
 therefore, any land, on which I could cast my 
 eyes with so much pleasure ; nor is there any, 
 which could have afforded me so much real sat- 
 isfaction, as I have found in Great Britain. May 
 its political fabric, which has stood the test of 
 ages, and long attracted the admiration of the 
 world, be supported and perpetuated by Divine 
 Providence ! And may the hearts of Britons be 
 grateful for this blessing, and for many others 
 by which they are eminently distinguished ! 
 
 I now return to the narrative. In a few days 
 after our landing, we reached London. Here 
 we were cheered with the society of 'a number 
 of our friends, whom we had known, in the visit 
 which we made to this country in the year 1771. 
 
68 
 
 We continued in and near London, about six 
 weeks ; and then proceeded for Yorkshire. Some 
 of our friends advised us to fix our residence at 
 Pontefract, others at Knaresborough. and others 
 at Richmond, Settle, or upon the Wolds. We, 
 however, thought it prudent to visit a number 
 of places, before we concluded to fix upon any 
 one. At length, we came to York : and whether 
 we were influenced by the association of names, 
 by the pleasantness of the surrounding country, 
 or by other motives, we felt some partiality for 
 the place. But it appeared to be difficult to 
 procure a suitable residence in the vicinity : and 
 we left York to visit Knaresborough, Harrogate, 
 and the neighbourhood of Leeds. Soon after 
 we had set off, we observed, about a mile from 
 the city, in a small village called Holdgate, a 
 house and garden very pleasantly and healthfully 
 situated. The place struck our minds so agree- 
 ably, that we stopped the carriage, for a few 
 minutes to survey it. The more we observed 
 the house and its appendages, the more we liked 
 them ; and we concluded that if they could be 
 obtained, they would suit us better than any 
 other we had seen. With this reflection, we 
 passed on, and continued our journey. At 
 Knaresborough and Harrogate, we stayed a 
 short time : but neither of these places appeared 
 to coincide with our views, and we went forward 
 
69 
 
 to Leeds. From this place I wrote to a friend 
 at York, and requested him to inquire, whether 
 the house near that city, which had so pleasantly 
 impressed us, could be either hired or purchased, 
 and on what terms. My friend informed me, 
 that the owner of this estate resided upon it, that 
 he had considerably improved it, and that it was 
 perfectly to his mind ; so that he intended to oc- 
 cupy it for the remainder of his life. All pros- 
 pect of acquiring this situation being thus cut 
 off, we employed ourselves in looking at several 
 places near Leeds. But our attachment to York 
 still continued, and after several weeks' absence 
 from it, we returned, with the hope that some 
 suitable place, in the neighbourhood of this city, 
 would yet be found. That we might have the 
 fairer opportunity for selecting such a residence, 
 I hired for six months a house ready furnished, 
 in York; and occasionally made inquiry for a 
 situation in its vicinity. About five months of 
 the time elapsed before any place occurred which 
 was adapted to our wishes. At this period, the 
 house and premises which had appeared to us so 
 desirable, were advertised for sale. The owner, 
 who was an officer in the navy, had unexpect- 
 edly an offer made to him of a ship on a remote 
 station; and being pleased with the appoint- 
 ment, he concluded to take his family with him, 
 and to dispose of his property at Holdgate. I 
 
70 
 
 did not hesitate to apply as a purchaser; and, in 
 a short time the contract was made, and the 
 estate secured to me. We soon removed into 
 our new residence; and found it to answer, in 
 every respect, the expectations we had formed. 
 It is healthy, pleasant, commodious, and unites 
 the advantages of both town and country. This 
 little pleasing settlement has lost none of its 
 comforts in our view, though we have now en- 
 joyed it two and twenty years. I hope that I 
 have not dwelt too long on the circumstance of 
 selecting a residence at Holdgate. This place 
 has been our habitation, for so great a portion of 
 our lives, and has contributed so much to our 
 comfort and enjoyment, that I could not pass 
 over the recital, without some marked attention. 
 I can not but trace, and gratefully acknowledge, 
 the goodness of Divine Providence, in the cir- 
 cumstances which led us to this auspicious 
 residence. 
 
 Though I have described the house and garden 
 at Holdgate, as a desirable possession, yet it is 
 by no means a large or a showy one. It is, how- 
 ever, one that accords with our own taste, and 
 desires. My views and wishes, with regard to 
 property, were, in every period of life, contained 
 within a very moderate compass. I was early 
 persuaded that, though " a competence is vital 
 to content," I ought not to annex to that term 
 
71 
 
 the idea of much property. And I determined 
 that when I should acquire enough to enable me 
 to maintain and provide for my family, in a re- 
 spectable and moderate manner, and this accord- 
 ing to real arid rational, not imaginary and fan- 
 tastic wants, and a little to spare for the neces- 
 sities of others; I would decline the pursuits of 
 property, and devote a great part of my time, 
 in some way or other, to the benefit of my fel- 
 low-creatures, within the sphere of my abilities 
 to serve them. I perceived that the desire of 
 great possessions, generally expands with the 
 gradual acquisition, and the full attainment of 
 them : and I imagined, that charity and a gen- 
 erous application, do not sufficiently corres- 
 pond with the increase of property. I thought 
 too, that procuring great wealth, has a tendency 
 to produce an elated independence of mind, little 
 connected with that humility which is the ground 
 of all our virtues ; that a busy and anxious pur- 
 suit of it, often excludes views and reflections 
 of infinite importance, and leaves but little time 
 to acquire that treasure, which would make us 
 rich indeed. I was inclined to think, that a wish 
 for personal distinction, a desire of providing too 
 abundantly for their children, and a powerful 
 habit of accumulation, are the motives which 
 commonly actuate men, in the acquisition of 
 great wealth. The strenuous endeavours of 
 
72 
 
 many persons to vindicate this pursuit, on the 
 ground, that the idea of a competency is inde- 
 finite, and that the more we gain, the more good 
 we may do with it, did not make much impres- 
 sion upon me. I fancied that, in general, ex. 
 perience did not correspond with this plausible 
 reasoning; and I was persuaded that a truly 
 sincere mind could be at no loss to discern the 
 just limits between a safe and competent por- 
 tion, and a dangerous profusion, of the good 
 things of life. These views of the subject, I 
 reduced to practice; and terminated my mercan- 
 tile concerns, when 1 had acquired a moderate 
 competency. 
 
 By what I have said on this occasion, I do 
 not mean to cast any reflection on the prudent 
 efforts of persons, who have large families to 
 support and provide for; or who, instead of 
 adding to the superfluous heap, apply their gains 
 to the relief of want, the instruction of ignorance, 
 or, in any other way, to the substantial benefit 
 of their fellow-creatures. I am, indeed, far from 
 being disposed to censure or disapprove the ex- 
 ertions of such persons, in the steady pursuit of 
 business, and the acquisition of property. My 
 view, in the remarks which I have made on this 
 topic, is, rather to justify my own determination 
 to withdraw seasonably from the pursuit of pro- 
 perty, than to reflect on the conduct of those 
 
73 
 
 who, with proper inducements, think it their 
 duty to endeavour to enlarge their possessions. 
 This is a subject, on which it is certainly more 
 charitable and becoming, to suggest hints, for 
 the consideration of others, when we may have 
 occasion, and think it prudent, so to do, than 
 presumptuously to make decisions, respecting 
 their motives and conduct. 
 
 When I first settled at Holdgate, my general 
 health had been, in some degree, improved; and 
 1 was able to walk in the garden, without assist- 
 ance, several times in the course of a day. This 
 increase of strength, and ability to walk out in 
 the open air, were highly pleasing; and gave a 
 fresh spring to our hopes, that the period was 
 not very far distant, when we might return to 
 our native country and our friends, with the 
 blessings of established health, and all the com- 
 forts which follow in its train. But these cheer- 
 ing prospects did not long continue. The exer- 
 cise in my garden was so delightful, arid appeared 
 to be so beneficial to me, that I often indulged 
 myself in it ; till, at length, I found my little 
 stock of newly acquired strength, began to de- 
 cline, and that the former weakness of the mus- 
 cles returned. This was not the effect of great 
 and immoderate exertion ; but proceeded from 
 my not knowing how very limited my bodily 
 powers were, and from not keeping within those 
 12 
 
74 
 
 limits. I soon perceived that it was necessary 
 to give up my little excursions in the garden ; 
 but I continued to walk occasionally about the 
 room, as much as I was well able to bear, know- 
 ing the danger of resigning myself to a state of 
 inactivity. This practice was kept up in a 
 greater or less degree, till it became inconvenient 
 and painful. A walk even from my seat to the 
 window, at last overcame me, and produced a 
 distressing weariness and fatigue, which pervad- 
 ed the whole animal system. I occasionally made 
 repeated efforts to overcome these effects : but 
 all to no purpose ; the more I persisted in my 
 exertions, the more painful was my situation. 
 I perceived that I was always better, and more 
 at my ease, when I continued sitting. This in- 
 duced me to try the experiment of relinquishing 
 all attempts at walking, and to keep to my seat 
 through the course of the day. The result was, 
 in every respect, beneficial. The soreness of the 
 muscles abated; the little tone which remained 
 in them, was not disturbed or overstretched ; 
 and I enjoyed an easy and tolerable state of 
 health. 
 
 I made it a point, however, to ride out daily 
 in my carriage : and this, doubtless, contributed 
 to counteract the injurious effects which would 
 have resulted from constant inaction. The mo- 
 tion of the carriage, the change of scene, differ- 
 
75 
 
 ence of air, and the busy or the cheerful faces 
 of my fellow-creatures, produced a pleasing ef- 
 fect on my mind, and greatly tended to reconcile 
 me to the privation of other exercises. Though 
 I had not sufficient strength to get into a car- 
 riage by the usual method, I have always been 
 able to effect it, by means of a board laid nearly 
 level from the garden gate to the step of the 
 carriage. But I have repeatedly found this ex- 
 ertion to be the full extent of my powers. I 
 can, however, generally accomplish it, with little 
 or no inconvenience. This mode of getting into 
 the carriage, has often excited the curiosity of 
 persons who were passing at the time, and given 
 rise to strange surmises, and to some ridiculous 
 stories. Inability to account for facts is an un- 
 easy state of mind ; to get rid of which many 
 people are apt to suppose or admit causes, which, 
 how imaginary soever they may be, are yet suf- 
 ficient to prevent the trouble of further investi- 
 gation. I must, however, allow, that, in my 
 own case, the appearance of general health, and 
 the ease with which I moved on the board, might 
 very naturally induce a belief, that I was capable 
 of greater exertions, and that the weakness ex- 
 isted more in the mind than in the body. If, un- 
 der a change of circumstances, I had been the 
 observer, instead of the person observed, I might 
 very probably have formed a similar judgment. 
 
76 
 
 The state of weakness and confinement to 
 which I was now reduced, would, at some periods 
 of my life, have been almost insupportable. But 
 my infirmities had increased upon me gradually, 
 and I had the happiness to perceive that they 
 might be made to conduce to my future and im- 
 mortal interests. I had many enjoyments and 
 advantages yet left to me : I was, in general, 
 free from pain ; I could take a little daily ex- 
 ercise ; my appetite was good ; and my rest at 
 nights commonly sound and uninterrupted. I 
 had the society of worthy and intelligent friends, 
 converse with books, and a regular correspond- 
 ence with my distant connexions. I was able, 
 too, to attend public religious worship, once or 
 twice in the week, which I consider as an inval- 
 uable privilege. There still remained to me the 
 great blessing of an affectionate, faithful friend, 
 my beloved wife ; whose solicitude to promote 
 my comfort, in all respects, has been lively and 
 uniform, through every period of our union. 
 Thus surrounded with benefits so important, it 
 would have been impious to complain, or to de- 
 plore my condition. It became me rather, to 
 number my blessings : and I humbly trust that, 
 through Divine grace, I have been enabled cheer- 
 fully to submit to my lot, and to be thankful 
 for the mercies, the unmerited mercies, which 
 have been bestowed upon me. 
 
77 
 
 In the summer of 1786, 1 met with a great 
 loss, in the decease of my father. He had been 
 painfully affected, with a cough and weakness 
 of the stomach, for more than thirty years; and 
 the disorder at length increased so much, that 
 nature could no longer support the conflict. In 
 a letter which I received from his brother, my 
 worthy uncle John Murray, there are some cir- 
 cumstances of his death, which are so interesting 
 to me, that they may not improperly be men- 
 tioned in this place. The circumstances alluded 
 to, are contained in the following extracts from 
 the letter. "Your much esteemed father de- 
 parted this life the 22d of July, 1786, about five 
 o'clock in the afternoon, with all his children in 
 the house, yourself excepted. About four weeks 
 ago, without any apparent cause, but the natural 
 increase of the disorder which he had long had, 
 he was confined to his room, and complained of 
 pain in his head and breast, and that his cough 
 grew more difficult and painful. Soon after, in 
 conversing with him, he told me that his dissolu- 
 tion was near at hand ; and he thanked his God, 
 that, in the whole course of his life, he had never 
 found himself so much resigned as at that time ; 
 and that it was not his wish to live longer. In 
 this sincere composure of mind he continued, 
 perfectly sensible till the moment of his death, 
 which took place at my side, and without a groan. 
 
78 
 
 About three days before his decease, your letter 
 by the packet came to hand. It was read to 
 him ; and finding you were recovered, in some 
 degree, from the relapse you had fallen into, it 
 seemed to afford him real pleasure. He thank- 
 ed God for all his mercies ; and said : 4 This is 
 the last time I shall hear from my dear son.' ' 
 
 Thus peacefully left the world my dear and 
 affectionate father, in the sixty-fifth year of his 
 age ; and, I trust, exchanged this life for one infi- 
 nitely better. 
 
 After I left America, my father, during the 
 remainder of his life, kindly transacted all my 
 business ; and obliged me with a regular corres- 
 pondence, from which I derived much comfort 
 and satisfaction. The religious state of mind 
 which his letters demonstrated, under the pres- 
 sure of years and infirmities, afforded me pecu- 
 liar pleasure at the time ; and continues to be a 
 source of grateful recollection. The loss which 
 I bad sustained, in being deprived of my fathers 
 kind offices, my truly valuable brother, John 
 Murray, was studious to repair. For more than 
 twenty years, he has attended to my concerns in 
 America; and maintained a correspondence with 
 me, in the most brotherly and affectionate man- 
 ner. Sympathizing with us, in our long and 
 distant separation from our near connexions and 
 our native country, he has been kindly solicitous 
 
79 
 
 to diminish our anxieties, by a great variety of 
 communications. We owe much of our relief 
 and consolation, to his unwearied attention, arid 
 to the proofs he has given us of his esteem and 
 love during our long residence in England. 
 We were affectionately attached to each other, 
 in early life : this attachment has not only con- 
 tinued, but it has increased with time ; and I 
 firmly trust it will remain, and brighten to the 
 latest period of our lives. From my dear sisters, 
 1 have also received, in this long absence, many 
 testimonies of their sincere regard and solicitude 
 for my welfare. These could not fail of being 
 soothing to us ; and they tended to cherish the 
 feelings of mutual affection. 
 
 The relation which subsists between children 
 of the same family, and between other persons 
 very nearly connected, is of a peculiarly tender 
 and endearing kind ; and it should be cherished, 
 not only as a duty, but as one of the most lively 
 and interesting sources of our enjoyments. It 
 produces and augments affections which may be 
 continually exercised, because their objects are 
 often before us : and, by perpetual offices of love, 
 and solicitude for one an other's welfare, it ac 
 customs the heart to these emotions, and pre- 
 pares it for extending its charities to all around. 
 In this manner, some of the finest feelings of our 
 nature, may be matured and disposed, on all 
 
80 
 
 proper occasions, to expand themselves to ob- 
 jects, far and near, in substantial acts of kindness, 
 compassion, and benevolence. This expansive 
 nature of the affections, is so aptly and beauti- 
 fully illustrated by a celebrated poet, that it may 
 not be improper to cite the illustration here. 
 
 " God loves from whole to parts : but human soul 
 Must rise from individual to the whole. 
 Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, 
 As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake : 
 The centre mov'd, a circle straight succeeds, 
 An other still, and still an other spreads. 
 Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace ; 
 His country next ; and next all human race : 
 Wide and more wide, th' o'erflowings of the mind 
 Take ev'ry creature in, of ev'ry kind. 
 Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty bless'd ; 
 And Heav'n beholds its image in his breast." 
 
 But how beneficial soever may be the tendency 
 of this domestic and social intercourse, I am in- 
 clined to believe that its happy effects are often 
 limited, and sometimes lost, for want of due re- 
 flection and encouragement. Enjoyments which 
 are very familiar, and of daily or hourly occur- 
 rence, are apt to pass by us unnoticed : and fre- 
 quently from this circumstance, they almost lose 
 their nature, and become nearly, if not altogether, 
 uninteresting. It is therefore of high importance 
 to our virtue and happiness, that we should often 
 call ourselves to account, for the estimate, and 
 
81 
 
 the use, we make of the blessings with which 
 we are surrounded. Our self examination, with 
 regard to the subject under consideration, would 
 perhaps be rendered more effectual, by an indi- 
 vidual inquiry, how far we have attended to the 
 means of augmenting our domestic and social 
 enjoyments. Inquiries similar to those which 
 follow, seriously put to ourselves, would present 
 these enjoyments in lively and impressive points 
 of view. Are we duly sensible how happy we re- 
 ally are, in the possession of affectionate relations, 
 and in the constant interchange of kind offices? 
 Do we consider properly, how much we depend 
 on their attachment and love, for the numerous 
 and the daily pleasures we enjoy? how often we 
 have experienced their sympathy and aid, when 
 we have had to encounter affliction or disappoint- 
 ments? and how ready they would be to fly to 
 our assistance again, if we should need their con- 
 solation and support? Do we sometimes picture 
 in our minds, the wants and distresses which we 
 should feel, if we were deprived of these ten- 
 der and faithful friends? and reflect, that when 
 they are lost, they are lost forever to us in this 
 world? It is scarcely possible, that repeated 
 examinations of this nature, should not be pro- 
 ductive of the happiest effects, by teaching us 
 continually to value and improve our present 
 privileges. A similar process of reflection, with 
 
 13 
 
 
respect to health of mind and body; a competence 
 of property; fair reputation; civil and religious 
 liberty; the light of Christianity; an exemption 
 from numerous evils; and every other favour 
 conferred upon us by Divine Providence ; would 
 not only refine and exalt these blessings in our 
 estimation, but affect our hearts with more fer- 
 vent gratitude to the Giver of all Good, for the 
 continuance of his bounties, both temporal and 
 spiritual. That I may be much more studious 
 than I ever have been, to number and improve 
 my blessings; and to avoid the reproaches of 
 my own heart, for suffering them to pass by me 
 unacknowledged; is my sincere and earnest 
 desire. 
 
 I am affectionately, &c. 
 
83 
 
 LETTER V, 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 I HAVE often considered it as 
 a special privilege, demanding my grateful ac- 
 knowledgments to Divine Providence, that my 
 afflictions have admitted of great alleviation; and 
 that they have been laid upon me, with a most 
 lenient hand. When I became confined, and 
 incapable of but very little bodily exercise, I was 
 not wholly deprived of every species of exertion. 
 I could still employ myself in reading, in writing, 
 and in conversation. My mind was preserved 
 free and active. I might therefore hope to be 
 exercised in doing something that would be use- 
 ful to myself and others: something that would 
 agreeably employ my mental powers ; and pre- 
 vent that tedium and irritability, which bodily 
 infirmities too often occasion. This might be 
 accomplished in various ways ; and I ventured 
 to believe it might, in part, be effected by a pub- 
 lication which I had in view, and which 1 pre- 
 sumed would be interesting to many readers. In 
 
84 
 
 the early part of my life, as well as in its suc- 
 ceeding periods,! had a lively pleasure and satis- 
 faction, in perusing the sentiments of eminent 
 and virtuous persons, on the subject of religion 
 and futurity, when they approached the close of 
 life. From men who had known the world, and 
 who were qualified, and disposed, to give a true 
 estimate of its nature and enjoyments, and whom 
 we could not suspect of dissimulation at that 
 awful period, much important instruction, 1 con- 
 ceived, might be derived ; and I trust I have 
 been, in some degree, benefitted by studies of this 
 kind. Reflecting on the pleasure, arid the good 
 effects, which this species of reading had pro- 
 duced on my own mind, I naturally supposed 
 that it would be attended with similar effects on 
 the minds of others. I thought too, that a col- 
 lection of the testimonies of great and good per- 
 sons, in favour of piety and virtue, would, if 
 they were properly arranged, be more interest- 
 ing, and more efficacious, than a perusal of them 
 detached, as many of them are, in the pages of 
 history and biography. Under these impres- 
 sions, or views of the subject, I commenced my 
 little work. As I wished to form it on liberal 
 principles, and render it acceptable to readers in 
 general, I was careful to introduce characters of 
 various religious prefessions,and of different ages 
 and countries. The concurrence of these, in the 
 
85 
 
 recommendation of religion, as the great pro- 
 moter of our happiness here and hereafter, would, 
 I conceived, form a strong persuasive evidence, 
 in the cause of piety and virtue. I flattered 
 myself, that a body of testimonies, so striking 
 and important, would exhibit religion in a most 
 attractive form : and that it would be calculated 
 to console and animate the well-disposed; to 
 rouse the careless ; and to convince, or, at least, 
 to discountenance, the unbeliever. In the course 
 of the work I annexed to many of the charac- 
 ters, such observations as appeared to me to rise 
 out of the subject, and to be calculated to arrest 
 the reader's attention, and promote the design 
 which I had in view. 
 
 The first edition of this book, which was en- 
 titled, " The Power of Religion on the Mind, 
 &c.," appeared in the year 1787. It consisted of 
 only five hundred copies ; all of which were 
 neatly bound, and distributed at my own ex- 
 pense. I sent them to the principal inhabitants 
 of York and its vicinity ; and accompanied each 
 book with an anonymous note requesting a fa- 
 vourable acceptance of it, and apologizing for the 
 liberty I had taken. It was not without some 
 hesitation, that I adopted so singular a mode of 
 distribution. But, on mature reflection, I be- 
 lieved it to be more eligible than any other, for 
 the purpose which I had in view. And as I 
 
86 
 
 was but little known in the city, and the work 
 was anonymous, I perhaps indulged a hope, that 
 the author might not be recognised, and that the 
 business would pass away, without much, if any, 
 reflection upon me. At any rate, I flattered 
 myself, that if the author should be discovered, 
 the goodness of his intentions, would protect him 
 from the severity of censure, even by those who 
 might be disposed to consider his procedure as 
 rather eccentric. 
 
 I soon found that my publication was well 
 received : and it was not long before I was en- 
 couraged to print a new edition of the work, in 
 London, which met with a good sale. Several 
 other impressions appeared in different places. 
 When, after some time, a sixth edition was called 
 for, I was induced to enlarge the book, and to 
 put my name to it. And as I afterwards found 
 that it continued to make a favourable progress, 
 I conceived that if the copyright were assigned 
 to some booksellers of extensive business and in- 
 fluence, it would be circulated more diffusively, 
 and my design in composing it be still more ef- 
 fectually answered. Under this idea, I extended 
 the work considerably ; made some improve- 
 ments in the language; and then disposed of the 
 copyright, without any pecuniary recompense. 
 With this plan, I have every reason to be per- 
 fectly satisfied. The demand for the book has 
 
87 
 
 far exceeded my utmost expectation : and the 
 testimonies of approbation, and of its usefulness, 
 which I have received, have been truly gratify- 
 ing; and have given me cause to be thankful to 
 the Author of my being, that I have been the 
 instrument, even in a small degree, of dissemin- 
 ating excitements to a pious and virtuous course 
 of life. 
 
 I am sensible it is difficult to write with prop- 
 er delicacy, concerning publications which have 
 been made by one's self; especially if they have 
 been attended with any demonstrations of public 
 favour and respect. I hope, however, that in the 
 preceding account of the "Power of Religion on 
 the Mind," I have not deviated from the dictates 
 of propriety ; and that, in the narrative and ob- 
 servations, which I may hereafter make, respect- 
 ing my other literary productions, I shall be care- 
 ful to offer nothing which may not be warranted 
 by the occasion, and the nature of the subject. 
 These productions have occupied so material a 
 part of my life, and engaged so much of my 
 study and attention, that I shall not, perhaps, be 
 censured, for dwelling upon them with some de- 
 gree of particularity. 
 
 At the close of the year 1794, 1 was seized 
 with a severe illness, which continued for many 
 weeks ; and reduced me to so feeble a state, that 
 my recovery was much doubted. During the 
 
continuance of this affliction, I was often de- 
 sirous, that, if it were the will of Divine Provi- 
 dence, I might be removed from this state of 
 trouble, and landed safely, as I hoped through 
 infinite mercy I should be, on those happy shores, 
 where there is neither sickness nor sorrow. But 
 I must acknowledge, that this desire of being 
 released from life, and its attendant trials, was 
 not consistent with that reverence and resigna- 
 tion to the will of God, which are due to him from 
 all his rational creatures. He who notices the 
 fall of every sparrow, sees us in all our afflic- 
 tions; and knows how to support us under them, 
 and the proper time to deliver us from their 
 pressure; and he will assuredly do what he 
 knows to be best for us. From the greatest dis- 
 tresses, good may proceed : our spirits may re- 
 ceive additional refinement ; and our example of 
 piofas, humble submission, may be edifying and 
 consoling to our friends and others. 
 
 I have, in the course of forty years, been vis- 
 ited with many illnesses, some of which have 
 been very painful, and brought me near the gates 
 of death. But I have always had the happiness 
 to perceive, that they were a necessary and sal- 
 utary discipline, replete with instruction of the 
 most important nature, and better for me, than 
 if I had enjoyed a uniform tenour of health and 
 strength. In reflecting upon them, I have been 
 
89 
 
 so fully convinced of their utility, that I view 
 them as concealed blessings; and have reason 
 to be very grateful to Divine Providence, for this 
 mixture of bitters with the sweets of life. 
 
 There are many powerful reasons, for our 
 bearing with patience, resignation, and even with 
 cheerfulness, the bodily afflictions with which 
 we are visited. It is the will of God that we 
 should be subject to them. Pain and death are 
 the appointment of Divine Providence, as the 
 lot of man: and therefore, to endure them, with 
 composure and reverence, is our duty. They are 
 designed to let us see our weakness ; the in- 
 sufficiency of the things of time to make us 
 happy; and the necessity of providing for a 
 better state. They tend to refine our minds, to 
 exalt our views, and prepare us for future hap- 
 piness. "These light afflictions, which are but 
 for a moment, work for us a far more exceeding 
 and eternal weight of glory." They form a part 
 of the punishment for sin in general, and often 
 for particular sins. " Why doth a living man 
 complain ; a man for the punishment of his 
 sin?" How light is this correction, when it is 
 compared with what we deserve ! If this, joined 
 to the other sorrows of life, be all the chastise- 
 ment we are to receive, for our ingratitude and 
 numerous offences, how cheerfully should it be 
 endured; especially when the great recompense, 
 14 
 
90 
 
 at last, is contemplated ! Our afflictions, or our 
 works, how grievous or how great soever they 
 may be, can not, indeed, be a satisfaction for sin, 
 and the ground of our acceptance by Heaven. 
 These transcendent blessings are derived to us 
 from an infinitely higher source, the sacrifice 
 and merits of the Redeemer of the world, 
 through the medium of our faith. But works 
 that are truly good, are not to be undervalued. 
 They are the genuine fruits and evidences of 
 true faith ; they are acceptable to the God of 
 love and mercy; and they are required by him, 
 as our indispensable duties. 
 
 These views of Divine Providence and Grace, 
 if they were thoroughly impressed on our minds, 
 would have a strong tendency to reconcile us, 
 not only to bodily afflictions, but to all the dis- 
 tresses and trials, which the wisdom and good- 
 ness of our heavenly Father may be pleased to 
 appoint for us. 
 
 I was often solicited to compose and publish a 
 Grammar of the English language, for the use of 
 some teachers, who were not perfectly satisfied 
 with any of the existing grammars. I declined, 
 for a considerable time, complying with this re- 
 quest, from a consciousness of my inability to do 
 the subject that justice, which would be expected 
 in a new publication of this nature. But being 
 much pressed to undertake the work, I, at length, 
 
91 
 
 turned my attention seriously to it. I conceived 
 that a grammar containing a careful selection of 
 the most useful matter, and an adaptation of it to 
 the understanding, and the gradual progress of 
 learners, with a special regard to the propriety 
 and purity of all the examples and illustrations ; 
 would be some improvement on the English 
 grammars which had fallen under my notice. 
 With this impression, I ventured to produce the 
 first edition of a work on this subject. It ap- 
 peared in the spring of the year 1795. I will 
 not assert, that I have accomplished all that I 
 proposed. But the approbation and the sale 
 which the book obtained, have given me some 
 reason to believe, that I have not altogether fail- 
 ed in my endeavours to elucidate the subject, 
 and to facilitate the labours of both teachers and 
 learners of English grammar. 
 
 In a short time after the appearance of the 
 work, a second edition was called for. This un- 
 expected demand, induced me to revise and 
 enlarge the book. It soon obtained an extensive 
 circulation. And the repeated editions through 
 which it passed in a few years, encouraged me, 
 at length, to improve and extend it still further ; 
 and, in particular, to support, by some critical 
 discussions, the principles upon which many of 
 its positions are founded. 
 
9:2 
 
 Soon after the Grammar had been published, I 
 was persuaded to compose a volume of Exercises, 
 calculated to correspond with, and illustrate, by 
 copious examples, all the rules of the Grammar, 
 both principal and subordinate. At the same 
 time, I formed a Key to the Exercises, designed 
 for the convenience of teachers, and for the use 
 of young persons, who had left school, and who 
 might be desirous, at their leisure, to improve 
 themselves in grammatical studies and perspicu- 
 ous composition. In forming these two latter 
 volumes, my design was, not only to exercise the 
 student's ingenuity, in correcting the sentences ; 
 and to excite him to the study of grammar, by 
 the pleasure of feeling his own powers and pro- 
 gress: but to introduce, for his imitation, a great 
 number of sentences, selected from the best 
 writers, and distinguished by their perspicuity 
 and elegance; and to imbue his mind with 
 sentiments of the highest importance, by inter- 
 weaving principles of piety and virtue with 
 the study of language. The Exercises and Key 
 were published in 1797 ; and met with a greater 
 sale than I could have supposed. The approba- 
 tion they received made ample amends to me, for 
 the time and labour I had bestowed upon them. 
 And I was encouraged, in the same year, to 
 make an Abridgment of the Grammar, for the 
 use of minor schools, and for those who were 
 
93 
 
 beginning to study the language. The four 
 volumes being intimately connected, mutually 
 supported and recommended each other. And 
 this circumstance, I believe, induced many 
 teachers to adopt them in their seminaries of 
 education. 
 
 As these books, except the Abridgment, were 
 reprinted at York, I consented to correct the 
 press ; by which, I presume, they appeared with 
 a greater degree of accuracy, (a point of consider- 
 able importance to books designed for schools,) 
 than if they had not received the author's in- 
 spection. This circumstance contributed to 
 occupy some of my leisure hours ; and, for a 
 time, afforded a little amusement. Inconvenient 
 as the employment afterwards proved, when it 
 increased much beyond my expectation, I still 
 continued it, with a hope that it would be pro- 
 ductive of good effects. My examination of the 
 new editions, gave occasion to many corrections 
 and considerable enlargements ; which I flatter 
 myself, have improved the books, and rendered 
 them less unworthy of the extensive patronage 
 which they have received. 
 
 In the course of my literary labours, I found 
 that the mental exercise which accompanied 
 them, was not a little beneficial to my health. 
 The motives which excited me to write, and the 
 objects which I hoped to accomplish, were of a 
 
94 
 
 nature calculated to cheer the mind, and to give 
 the animal spirits a salutary impulse. I am per* 
 suaded, that if I had suffered my time to pass 
 away, with little or no employment, my health 
 would have been still more impaired, my spirits 
 depressed, and perhaps my life considerably 
 shortened. I have therefore reason to deem it a 
 happiness, and a source of gratitude to Divine 
 Providence, that I was enabled, under my 
 bodily weakness and confinement, to turn my 
 attention to the subjects which have, for so many 
 years, afforded me abundant occupation. I think 
 it is incumbent upon us, whatever may be our 
 privations, to cast our eyes around, and endeav- 
 our to discover, whether there are not some 
 means yet left us, of doing good to ourselves and 
 to others ; that our lights may, in some degree, 
 shine in every situation, and, if possible, be ex- 
 tinguished only with our lives. The quantum 
 of good which, under such circumstances, we 
 do, ought not to disturb or affect us. If we 
 perform what we are able to perform, how little 
 soever it may be, it is enough ; it will be accept- 
 able in the sight of Him, who knows how to 
 estimate exactly all our actions, by comparing 
 them with our disposition and ability. 
 
 These considerations, joined to the unexpected 
 success which I had met with in my publications^ 
 encouraged me to persevere in my literary pur- 
 
95 
 
 suits. I engaged in a work, which appeared to 
 me likely to prove of peculiar advantage to the 
 rising generation. This was a compilation con- 
 taining some of the most esteemed pieces in the 
 language, both in prose and poetry : which are 
 at once calculated to promote correct reading ; 
 to give a taste for justness of thought, and ele- 
 gance of composition; and to inculcate pious and 
 virtuous sentiments. This work I entitled, 
 "The English Reader:" and I was pleased to 
 find that my hopes respecting it, were not disap- 
 pointed. The book was introduced, as I wished 
 it to be, into many schools and private families; 
 and it has been often reprinted. 
 
 The approbation given to the English Reader, 
 induced me to publish an " Introduction" and a 
 " Sequel" to that book. These three volumes 
 pursue the same subjects; they all aim at a 
 chaste and guarded education of young persons. 
 And I have great satisfaction in reflecting, that 
 whilst they contain many selections which pre- 
 sent the moral virtues, religion, and the Christian 
 religion in particular, in very amiable points of 
 view, not a sentiment has been admitted into 
 any of them, which can pain the most virtuous 
 mind, or give the least offence to the eye or ear 
 of modesty. 
 
 The recommendations which these books re- 
 ceived, for the chastity and correctness of seuti- 
 
96 
 
 merit, which distinguish the pieces they contain, 
 persuaded me to believe, that a collection, in 
 French, on similar principles, and made from 
 some of the finest writers ; would be received by 
 the public, with some degree of approbation. 
 Animated by this expectation, I produced in 
 the year 1802, a compilation entitled, "Lecteur 
 Franois;" and in 1807, another, with the title 
 of " Introduction au Lecteur Fran9ois." As the 
 contents of both these volumes are extracted 
 from authors of reputation, and are particularly 
 guarded in point of sentiment and morality, I 
 hoped that they would be acceptable to teachers 
 of schools, and private instructers, as well as to 
 the young persons who were under their care, 
 and others who wished to improve themselves in 
 the language. I have had no reason to regret the 
 time and pains, which I employed, in preparing 
 and producing these volumes. In foreign lan- 
 guages, not less than in English, it is of high 
 importance, that youth should be presented with 
 books inculcating sound morality, and purified 
 from every thing, which might stain the delicacy 
 of their minds. And I trust that, in these res- 
 pects, as well as with regard to purity of style 
 and justness of composition, these volumes will 
 bear the strictest examination. 
 
 In the year 1804, 1 published a Spelling Book. 
 When it first occurred to me to compose this 
 
97 
 
 little book, and for some time afterwards, the 
 work appeared to be of so very humble a nature, 
 that I was not in much haste to set about it. On 
 reflecting, however, that a Spelling book is com- 
 monly the threshold of learning; and that by in- 
 troducing into it a number of easy reading les- 
 sons, calculated to attract attention, the infant 
 mind might be imbued with the love of goodness, 
 and led to approve and practise many duties 
 connected with early life ; my hesitation was re- 
 moved, and, after a considerable time, the work 
 was completed. But I found it much more diffi- 
 cult than I expected. The adaptation of lessons 
 to the young capacity, and the exactness required 
 in the gradations of instruction, appeared to de- 
 mand all the judgment and attention of which I 
 was master; and probably called for much more 
 than I possessed. After many essays, I came at 
 length to the end of my labour. I made it a point, 
 in composing the Spelling book, to introduce no 
 matter that is foreign to the objects which such 
 a work ought to have in view; and I was studi- 
 ous to bring the latter reading lessons to such a 
 state of advancement, as would form an easy and 
 natural connexion between this book and the 
 " Introduction to the English Reader." 
 From the friend whom I am now addressing-, 
 
 c5' 
 
 and at whose request these Memoirs are written, 
 I certainly received much valuable, and very 
 
 15 
 
98 
 
 material, assistance, in compiling the Spelling 
 Book, The Introduction to the English Reader, 
 and the two volumes hi French ; and I can not, 
 with propriety, omit, on the present occasion, 
 the acknowledgment of this co-operation. It is 
 also proper to add, in this place, that I received 
 from the same hand, and from a number of my 
 literary correspondents, many very useful sug- 
 gestions and criticisms, with respect to my 
 English Grammar, and some of my other pub- 
 lications. Those hints and criticisms have un- 
 doubtedly contributed, in no small degree, to 
 improve the books, and to render them less 
 unworthy of the attention which they have re- 
 ceived from the public. 
 
 As I was desirous that my publications should 
 have a circulation as extensive as I could procure 
 for them, I sold the copyrights to one of the first 
 houses in London. These booksellers had it in 
 their power to spread them very diffusively; 
 and they have done it perfectly to my satisfac- 
 tion. They gave a liberal price for the books : 
 and I must say, that in all our transactions to- 
 gether, which have not been very limited, they 
 have demonstrated great honour and upright- 
 ness, and entirely justified my confidence and ex- 
 pectations. I have great pleasure in knowing that 
 the purchase of the copyrights has proved highly 
 advantageous to them: and though it has turned 
 
99 
 
 out much more lucrative, than was at first con- 
 templated, they are fully entitled to the benefit. 
 Such contracts always have in them some degree 
 of hazard; and it was possible that these might 
 have been attended with little or no profit. 
 
 But my views in writing and publishing were 
 not of a pecuniary nature. My great objects 
 were, as I before observed, to be instrumental in 
 doing a little good to others, to youth in particu- 
 lar; and to give my mind a rational and salutary 
 employment. It was, I believe, my early deter- 
 mination, that if any profits should arise from 
 my literary labours, I would apply them, not to 
 my own private use, but to charitable purposes, 
 and for the benefit of others. My income was 
 sufficient to support the expenses of my family, 
 and to allow of a little to spare ; and I had not 
 any children to provide for. There was conse- 
 quently no inducement to warrant me, in devia- 
 ting from the determination I had made : and 
 as I have hitherto adhered, I trust I shall con- 
 tinue faithfully to adhere, to my original views 
 and intentions. By these observations, I do not 
 design any censure on those writers, who apply 
 the profits of their works, to increase the amount 
 of their property. Many persons, from their 
 situation, their connexions, and other considera- 
 tions, find this application proper or necessary. 
 Every case must be decided by its own peculiar 
 
100 
 
 circumstances ; and whilst we claim indulgence 
 to our own sentiments and conduct, we should 
 be liberally disposed to make every allowance 
 for those who think and act differently. 
 
 After the Grammar and the books connected 
 with it, had passed through many editions, the 
 proprietors conceived that an edition of the 
 whole, in two volumes octavo, on fine paper, 
 and in a large letter, would be well received by 
 the public ; and I embraced the opportunity, to 
 improve the work, by many additions which I 
 conceived to be appropriate. These occupied 
 about one hundred pages of the first volume. 
 In its present form, the publication is designed 
 for the use of persons who may think it merits a 
 place in their libraries. To this privilege it may, 
 perhaps, be allowed to aspire, as a work con- 
 taining a pretty extensive exhibition of the 
 principles of English grammar, and a copious 
 illustration of those principles ; with the addition 
 of some positions and discussions, which I per- 
 suade myself are not destitute of originality. It 
 will, therefore, I venture to hope, serve as a 
 book of reference, to refresh the memory, and, 
 in some degree, to employ the curiosity of per- 
 sons who are skilled in grammar, as well as to 
 extend the knowledge of those who wish to im- 
 prove themselves in the art. This octavo edition 
 of the Grammar appeared in 1808. It was fa- 
 
101 
 
 vourably received ; and a new edition of it was 
 ordered in the course of a few months. 
 
 At this period, I had the satisfaction to per- 
 ceive, that all my literary productions were 
 approved ; and that most of them were advan- 
 cing in the public estimation. But 1 was fully 
 persuaded that an author ought to terminate his 
 labours, before the tide of favour begins to turn ; 
 and before he incurs the charge of being so in- 
 fected with the morbid humour for writing, as 
 not to have the discretion to know when to stop. 
 I was so sensible of what was due to the public, 
 for their favourable reception of my productions, 
 that I was extremely unwilling to forfeit their 
 approbation, by presuming too much on what 1 
 had experienced. It appears to be better to 
 retire from the field of public labour, with some 
 advantages, than to incur the risk of losing all, 
 or of impairing what had been acquired, by 
 feeble and unsuccessful efforts to obtain more. 
 I may add to these observations, that I had, per- 
 haps, pursued this mode of employment rather 
 too closely ; and that I wished for more leisure 
 to prosecute other studies. Influenced by these 
 various motives, I have closed my literary la- 
 bours, for the present at least ; and I shall not 
 resume them, unless some special considerations 
 should alter my views of the subject. There 
 will, I trust, still remain for me, other sources of 
 
102 
 
 employment, and some degree of usefulness, bet- 
 ter adapted to circumstances, and to my grow- 
 ing infirmities of body. 
 
 It may not be improper for me on this occa- 
 sion, to express the comfortable hope which I 
 entertain, that, notwithstanding my infirmities 
 and privations, I have been an instrument of 
 some good to others, by my studies and publica- 
 tions. This is a source of grateful acknowledg- 
 ment to the Giver of all good, and Disposer of 
 all events. But I must not be misunderstood. 
 I arrogate nothing to myself; I have nothing to 
 boast of. If I have done any thing that is ac- 
 ceptable to God, it has been but little ; and that 
 little has been produced by his gracious assist- 
 ance, and accepted for the sake of Jesus Christ. 
 In reflecting on my errors and transgressions 
 through life, my numberless omissions of what 
 I ought to have done, and commissions of what 
 I ought not to have done, I perceive abundant 
 cause for deep humiliation ; and for esteeming 
 very lightly, and exceedingly defective, my en- 
 deavours to promote the interests of virtue, and 
 to do the will of my heavenly Father. 
 
 I have occasionally, in these Memoirs, made 
 some observations on the importance of learning 
 and knowledge to the human mind : but it may 
 not be improper to express my sentiments more 
 explicitly, on this interesting subject. I con- 
 
103 
 
 sider these attainments, as of so great conse- 
 quence to us, in civil, moral, and religious points 
 of view, that it would be difficult to calculate 
 the benefits which they produce. And yet, like 
 most, if not all other, advantages, they may be 
 overvalued, misapplied, or pursued to excess. 
 This is unhappily the case, when they nourish 
 pride and vanity ; occupy too much of our time; 
 or interfere with the great duties of loving and 
 serving our Creator, and promoting the welfare, 
 spiritual or temporal, of our fellow-creatures. 
 All our duties of every kind, all the rational and 
 allowable concerns of life, are perfectly consist- 
 ent, and harmonize together, when they are pur- 
 sued according to their respective importance, 
 and in due subordination to one an other. If, 
 therefore, in the acquisition of learning and 
 knowledge, and in the enjoyments which they af- 
 ford us, we perceive that the supreme love of 
 God prevails in our hearts; that the interests and 
 happiness of others are warmly and properly felt; 
 and that our own well-being hereafter, is the 
 chief aim and concern of our lives; we may se- 
 curely trust, that our studies and literary engage- 
 ments, are not only innocent and allowable, but 
 conducive to the great ends of our existence. 
 These, indeed, appear to be the true tests, by 
 which we may ascertain the rectitude of all our 
 views and pursuits. 
 
104 
 
 In the prosecution of classical learning, not 
 only the limitations and tendencies just men- 
 tioned, are to be regarded, but peculiar caution 
 and restraint are requisite, especially in the edu- 
 cation of young persons. It will doubtless be 
 admitted, that several of the ancient celebrated 
 authors contain passages which, in point of reli- 
 gion, morality, and even decency, are very ex- 
 ceptionable ; that they have a strong tendency 
 to corrupt the tender minds of youth ; and to 
 leave impressions which, in mature years, may 
 foster their depravities, or, at least, increase the 
 conflicts of virtue. 
 
 There are, indeed, ^ome editions of the classics, 
 which have received a considerable degree of 
 purgation; for which the world is not a little 
 indebted to the worthy labourers in this depart- 
 ment of literature.* But there is, perhaps, much 
 yet remaining, in several of them, which calls 
 for the purifying operations of some judicious, 
 learned, and conscientious persons. And till this 
 complete purification takes place, I conceive it 
 is of high importance, that a scrupulously se- 
 lected number of these ancient works should be 
 adopted, not in a few only, but in all our clas- 
 sical seminaries. 
 
 * A purified edition of the British Poets, was also an object 
 which Mr. Murray had much at heart. EDITOR. 
 
105 
 
 This selection would doubtless exclude some 
 books, which are distinguished by the simplicity 
 and elegance of their style, and the correctness 
 of their composition. But this sacrifice would 
 be of little moment, compared with the great 
 benefits which it would produce. Fine language 
 and beautiful composition prove the more dan- 
 gerous, when they are the vehicles of corrupt 
 and pernicious sentiments. They certainly can 
 never compensate for the wounds to virtue, 
 which they serve so deeply, and so often per- 
 manently, to inflict. The exclusion of the ob- 
 jectionable books above alluded to, would be of 
 less consequence, and the less to be regretted, 
 because there would still remain a considerable 
 number and variety of ancient authors, in prose 
 and verse, abundantly sufficient for the classical 
 education of young persons. 
 
 After all the care that can be taken, in select- 
 ing the best and most purified of those celebrated 
 writers, there will still be found amongst them, 
 great defects in the religion and morality which 
 they inculcate. Much imperfection may remain 
 even where positive vice is excluded. It would, 
 therefore, be of singular advantage to the youth- 
 ful mind, if teachers would, on all proper occa- 
 sions, remark to their pupils these imperfections; 
 and contrast them with the pure and perfect 
 principles of the Christian religion. The ne- 
 
 16 
 
106 
 
 cessity and importance of Christianity to man- 
 kind, and many of its distinguishing doctrines 
 and precepts, would, by this means, be evinced 
 and unfolded to young persons. And it may be 
 reasonably presumed that, in numerous instan- 
 ces, this procedure would not only make the hap- 
 piest impressions on their susceptible minds, but 
 prepare them for an attachment to our holy reli- 
 gion, which no sophistry or scorn of the infidel, 
 no intercourse with the world, would ever be 
 able to destroy. I have no doubt that the prac- 
 tice I am recommending, is approved and ob- 
 served, by many instructers of youth. But it is 
 highly desirable, that a practice so eminently 
 useful, should be universally adopted by classical 
 teachers, both public and private, as an indis- 
 pensable part of education. 
 
 At the close of the year 1808, I met with a 
 most affecting event, in the death of my youngest 
 sister, the wife of Gilbert Golden Willett. She 
 had been, for nearly a year, much indisposed ; 
 and the disorder made a gradual progress, till it 
 put a period to her mortal existence, in the forty- 
 fifth year of her age. From the letters of my 
 relations, which mention her decease, and the 
 circumstances attending it, I have derived great 
 consolation. She was so patient, so fully re- 
 signed to the will of God, and so well prepared 
 to leave the world, and enter into a state of 
 
107 
 
 blessedness ; that we have no cause to mourn 
 on her account. She has, doubtless, commenced 
 that life, which is free from temptation and sor- 
 row ; and in which she will be unspeakably hap- 
 py for ever. I rejoice that 1 have had such a sis- 
 ter; and I trust that the recollection of her pious 
 and bright example, will prove, through life, a 
 source of thankfulness, and an additional incen- 
 tive to virtue. As I feel so deeply interested in 
 this event, I think that an account of some of her 
 expressions, and her deportment, at and near the 
 closing scene, will not be deemed unsuitable to v 
 a narrative which relates the chief occurrences 
 of my life. For several weeks before her death, 
 she was at times affected with exquisite bodily 
 pain, and was often nearly suffocated by the 
 disorder of her lungs. But her own distresses, 
 which were borne with great patience, did not 
 prevent her from attending to the feelings and 
 situation of her husband and children, her rela- 
 tions and friends. She was solicitous to dimin- 
 ish their care, and to relieve their anxiety about 
 her, as much as possible. 
 
 Though her hope and trust in the mercy of 
 God, through Jesus Christ, were strong and un- 
 shaken, yet she was very humble, and thought 
 but little of her own attainments. To a person 
 w r ho expressed a desire to take pattern after her, 
 she meekly replied : " I desire to take pattern 
 
108 
 
 after the Lord Jesus Christ." In one of her in- 
 tervals of relief from great pain, a person in the 
 room calling her blessed, she answered ; " Not 
 yet blessed." And to her husband who said, he 
 was sure she was going to be happy, she replied : 
 " Not sure, my love ; we can not be sure : but I 
 trust in the mercy of the Almighty." At an other 
 time, her husband speaking of her goodness, as 
 the ground of a lively hope, she put her hand on 
 his lips, as if to silence him on the subject of 
 herself. On observing the grief of her sister, at 
 a particular time, she said to her; " I hope there 
 is no cause for grief:" and, on an other occasion, 
 when her sister was much distressed with be- 
 holding her extreme agony of body, she lifted 
 up her finger, with a view to recommend to her 
 submission to the will of God. 
 
 Perceiving her husband to be in great afflic- 
 tion she said to him : " Remember who it is 
 that inflicts the blow. It is intended for your 
 good ; and, I trust, for mine." At one time, just 
 after she had recovered from great difficulty in 
 breathing, she said to her friends who were near 
 her : " Fix your heart upon God, arid he will 
 support you in an hour like this. Be good, and 
 you will be happy." To one of her domestics, 
 she addressed herself thus : " Farewell, my dear 
 Remember my advice. If I am happy, 
 
 
109 
 
 you may be so too. You have, I believe, a good 
 heart. May God Almighty bless you!" 
 
 With great composure, she gave her husband 
 particular directions respecting her funeral: and, 
 at the same time, desired him to communicate 
 her love to her absent relations, mentioning most 
 of them by their names. She expressed a tender 
 concern, that these observations might not 
 afflict him ; and said, that she should not be 
 taken away the sooner, for having made them. 
 It appeared, through the whole of her deport- 
 ment, that though her heart and views were 
 directed towards heaven, she did not forget 
 the duties that remained to be performed upon 
 earth. She thanked her husband, in the most 
 affectionate manner, for his attentions to her; 
 and expressed regret that he had suffered so 
 much confinement. With a countenance unus- 
 ually expressive, she said to him : " My beloved 
 husband, I believe I have been favoured with 
 the sweet spirit of my blessed Saviour. O, the 
 comfort and consolation afforded to my soul! 
 He will support me on this trying occasion. 
 Look to him, my dear : he will sustain you ; and 
 enable you to be an example to our dear chil- 
 dren. O, that you and they, and all my rela- 
 tions and friends, may feel that pleasing hope, 
 which will support you during life ! You must 
 patiently acquiesce in the Divine will. I have, 
 
110 
 
 for many years^een a poor, feeble woman : but 
 now my strength and hope are great in Him 
 who gave, and in Him who taketh away ; blessed 
 be his holy name !" 
 
 The day preceding her death, she put up a 
 prayer to her heavenly Father, beseeching him, 
 in a sweet and melodious voice, that he would 
 be pleased to bless her beloved husband, her 
 dear sisters, and her lovely and loving children ; 
 saying that he could take much better care of 
 them than she was able to do. 
 
 The same day, whilst she was supported to sit 
 up in bed, she expressed a desire to see her chil- 
 dren, and to speak to them. They came to her; 
 and kneeled down at her bed side, that they 
 might the more reverently attend to the expres- 
 sions of their dying mother. This was a most 
 affecting scene, which totally overcame her hus- 
 band, who was taken out of the room. Her weak- 
 ness of body was so great, that she was just able 
 to give them her last blessing, and to take leave 
 of them, individually, in these expressive words: 
 " Farewell, my beloved !" To her other rela- 
 tions and friends who were present, she gave her 
 hand with the utmost composure, as a token of 
 her love, and final separation from them in this 
 world. 
 
 The awful period was now approaching, in 
 which her spirit was to sustain its last conflict. 
 
Ill 
 
 When she was near her end, and in great distress 
 of body, she still felt for the sorrows of her hus- 
 band ; and fearing that the scene would tod 
 much affect him, she waved her hand, as a signal 
 for him to leave the room. In about half an 
 hour after this, her pains abated ; and she calm- 
 ly breathed her last, without sigh or groan, ut- 
 tering these consoling words, expressive of her 
 piety and faith : " Sweet Jesus, take me to thy- 
 self!" 
 
 Thus terminated the life of this good and 
 pious sister ; who exchanged, 1 doubt not, the 
 sorrows of time for the joys of eternity. Though 
 her trials and afflictions were great, yet com- 
 pared with the happiness she now enjoys, and 
 which she will for endless ages enjoy, they are 
 lighter than can be conceived ; and deserve no 
 consideration but that which is derived from 
 their salutary effects. I have reason to believe, 
 that she found the troubles and disappointments 
 of this life, a great incitement to piety and vir- 
 tue ; a powerful motive to look for that felici- 
 ty in a better world, which she perceived was 
 not to be met with in this. One source of per- 
 petual gratitude and praises to her gracious 
 Benefactor, will doubtless be, the afflictions 
 which his good Providence saw meet to dispense, 
 in order to wean her from too great an attach- 
 ment to the things of this life. When we view 
 
 
112 
 
 afflictions in this light, they almost lose their na- 
 ture ; and dispose us to receive them as friendly 
 visiters, as blessings in disguise. 
 
 I have, at length, after many delays and in- 
 terruptions, brought the Memoirs of my life to 
 the present period, the spring of the year 1809 ; 
 and I hope I shall be able to finish the work, in 
 my next letter. 
 
 I am, with much respect arid regard, &c. 
 
iia 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 I SHALL close the account which 
 1 had undertaken to give of the chief events of 
 my life, with a few reflections and observations, 
 which naturally arise on the review of scenes and 
 transactions that so intimately concern me* 
 
 I have often deeply regretted, and, if memory 
 lasts, I shall often regret through life, that a great 
 part of my time has been spent in too earnest a 
 pursuit of the enjoyments of this transient scene, 
 and in little attention to the interests of a life 
 that is infinitely better. I always approved of 
 that wisdom, which provides for a distant and 
 permanent happiness, especially an eternal hap- 
 piness, though to obtain it many sacrifices of 
 temporary pleasures are to be made ; and I was 
 fully persuaded, that a course of piety and virtue, 
 notwithstanding the trials which attend it, is 
 
 17 
 
114 
 
 productive of more solid satisfaction, than all the 
 enjoyments with which the most prosperous 
 worldly pursuits are accompanied. I knew that 
 the consciousness of doing well, the approbation 
 of Heaven, and the well grounded hope of future 
 felicity, are sufficient to raise the mind above all 
 the troubles of time, and to give it a dignity and 
 peace, which nothing earthly can confer. But 
 the busy scenes, and the allurements of the 
 world, were before me, and attracting my at- 
 tention. The animation produced by flattering 
 prospects ; an undue solicitude for the appro- 
 bation of others; the example of numbers around 
 me, in the earnest pursuit of honours, riches, or 
 pleasures; and the expectation that a more con- 
 venient season would arrive, for a truly self- 
 denying and serious course of life ; all concurred 
 to insnare my heart, and to induce me to post- 
 pone, or to pursue irresolutely, those objects 
 which I hoped would, some time or other, form 
 my greatest concern. I did not properly reflect, 
 as I ought to have done, that, besides losing, 
 through these unhappy delays, a great deal of 
 true and solid enjoyment, I rendered the paths 
 of religion more difficult, by strengthening the 
 habits of folly and procrastination ; and laid up 
 for myself a store of afflictive recollections dur- 
 ing life. 
 
115 
 
 Time thus misemployed, could not, however, 
 be recalled ; and it was deeply incumbent upon 
 me, to occupy that which remained, in a very 
 different manner ; in gratitude, love, and obe- 
 dience, to my gracious Preserver and Benefac- 
 tor. How happy Avould it be for us, if we were 
 accustomed, in early life especially, to reflect on 
 the nature of sinful indulgences, and their bitter 
 fruits! We should then be disposed, often and 
 earnestly, to pray to God for preservation; and we 
 should escape many gloomy and sorrowful retro- 
 spects. There are periods of our lives, when the 
 sins of youth, as well as those of more advanced 
 years, appear with all their peculiar aggravations, 
 and sometimes occasion great dejection and per- 
 plexity of mind. Though they may seem to 
 sleep for a while, they will assuredly, at some 
 time or other, rise up, and trouble our repose. 
 These are urgent motives to resist the tempta- 
 tions to evil, and to prevent the distressing re- 
 flections by which it is followed. 
 
 But though the violations of duty, and the 
 sense of our demerits, are productive of such un- 
 easy retrospects; and often induce us, emphati- 
 cally to say, as the patriarch Jacob did, in a 
 time of great perplexity and trouble; "I am 
 not worthy of the least of all thy mercies ;" yet 
 we are not to despond, under this discouraging 
 
116 
 
 view of our condition : a gracious remedy is pro- 
 vided, for all these regrets and distresses. To 
 those who truly repent, and believe in Jesus 
 Christ, the Redeemer of the world, a comfortable 
 hope is afforded, that, through his atonement 
 arid intercession, their heavenly Father will par- 
 don all their sins ; prepare them, by the opera- 
 tions of his Holy Spirit, for an admittance into 
 his blessed kingdom; and animate them with 
 gratitude, love, and praises to him, both now and 
 for ever. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to observe, that whilst 
 I condemn myself, for rating too highly, and 
 pursuing too ardently, the good things of this 
 life, I do not mean to insinuate, that they can 
 not be innocently enjoyed, or that they are to 
 be undervalued by those whose hearts are fixed 
 on a better world. We sometimes, however, meet 
 with persons of a serious and peculiar cast of 
 mind, who declaim against the enjoyments of life, 
 not only as things of short duration ; but as vani- 
 ties which are not worth our attention, and above 
 which the pious man is so far elevated, as to look 
 down upon them with contempt. This is a 
 sentiment which, 1 think, ought not, on any 
 occasion, to be indulged. The follies and vani- 
 ties of life, are, indeed, to be despised ; and they 
 are despised, by those who are truly good. But 
 
117 
 
 the provision which Divine Providence has gra- 
 ciously made, for our accommodation and com- 
 fort, as we pass through this world, demands 
 the attention of a wise and religious man; and it 
 should be received with gratitude to the Giver 
 of every good gift. How elevated soever his 
 mind may be above this transient scene, he con- 
 templates its lawful enjoyments as happily suited 
 to his present state of existence ; and he par- 
 takes of them with a cheerful and thankful heart. 
 On this subject the devout Addison has beauti- 
 fully and gratefully expressed his sentiments. 
 
 Ten thousand thousand precious gifts, 
 
 My daily thanks employ ; 
 Nor is the least a cheerful heart, 
 
 That tastes those gifts with joy. 
 
 Through ev'ry period of my life, 
 
 Thy goodness I'll pursue ; 
 And after death, in distant worlds, 
 
 The glorious theme renew. 
 
 At the same time that the pious and grateful 
 man perceives, that to him belongs "the promise 
 of the life that now is," as well as " of that which 
 is to come," he is deeply sensible of the dan- 
 ger and temptations to which he is exposed; 
 and he feels it his duty to keep a perpetual 
 watch, lest the continual and urgent solicitation 
 
118 
 
 of the pleasant things around him, should draw 
 away his heart from the love of God, and a proper 
 concern for his future happiness. He is anxious 
 to set a due and proportionate value on all the 
 Divine gifts, spiritual and temporal. I can con- 
 ceive of no higher wisdom, or greater enjoy- 
 ment on earth, than this grateful sense of Divine 
 bounty; this due subordination of earthly to 
 heavenly blessings ; joined to a steady reliance 
 on the goodness and mercy of God, for his pro- 
 tection through this life, and an inheritance in 
 his blessed kingdom for ever. Compared with 
 these pious and rational enjoyments, all the vain 
 pleasures of a worldly life, spent in forgetfulness 
 of our great Benefactor, are, indeed, light as air, 
 and empty as the bubbles of the deep. 
 
 With regard to the privations and trials, with 
 which it has pleased Divine Providence to visit 
 me, I hope I may say, without assuming too 
 much to myself, that I have long acquiesced 
 in my lot, with resignation and cheerfulness. 
 Though I have had for more than twenty years, 
 great debility of body, and almost constant con- 
 finement, proceeding from my inability to walk, 
 I do not recollect that, in the course of this 
 trying period, I ever repined at my situation, or 
 expressed a dissatisfied sentiment respecting it, 
 except on one occasion. This happened in the 
 
119 
 
 tirst year of my indisposition, and was produced 
 by the following circumstance. I had made con- 
 siderable efforts to overcome the disorder with 
 which I was affected. But perceiving no good 
 effect from any of them, I began to be tolerably 
 reconciled to my condition. At this time, an 
 o- her physician was called in, to assist the family 
 doctor ; and by his earnest recommendation, I 
 was induced to take a particular medicine, from 
 which he and myself anticipated much benefit. 
 But instead of being useful, it proved injurious 
 to me. The sanguine hope of relief which I had 
 indulged, made me feel the disappointment very 
 severely: and contemplating, at that moment, 
 my prime of life, and the prosperous circum- 
 stances with which I was surrounded, I foolishly 
 said, it was hard that I should be deprived of 
 health, at a time when it appeared to be so pe- 
 culiarly desirable. This expression was scarce- 
 ly uttered, when my heart condemned me for its 
 rashness. I felt remorse for this want of sub- 
 mission to Divine Providence ; and was much 
 humbled under the sense of my folly. The 
 painful reflections which I had, on this occasion, 
 probably contributed to make me more guarded, 
 in future, against the admission of thoughts so 
 unjust and irreverent. There has, indeed, amidst 
 all my privations, been no cause for murmuring. 
 I have possessed so many comforts, so many 
 
120 
 
 sources of real enjoyment, that I have often 
 thought my debility and confinement could 
 scarcely be called an affliction. And I sincerely 
 lament, that I have so little improved the bles- 
 sings which have been conferred upon me. 
 
 When I contemplate my own unworthiness, 
 and the goodness of God to me, through the 
 whole course of my life, I feel that I can not be 
 too humble, nor too grateful for his manifold 
 mercies. I can not, indeed, be sufficiently thank- 
 ful for them. Amidst the numerous blessings 
 which I have received, it has afforded me pecul- 
 iar satisfaction, that I have been disposed to 
 ascribe them all to Him, as the Origin and Giver 
 of every thing that is good ; as the Parent, Re- 
 deemer, and Sanctifier, of men. If I consider him 
 as my Creator and Preserver; as the Author of 
 the laws and operations of nature; as the Control- 
 ler and Director of these laws and operations ; as 
 the immediate Bestower of benefits ; or, as our 
 Deliverer from sin and misery, and our hope of 
 eternal life, through the sacrifice and merits of 
 his beloved Son, the Lord Jesus Christ: I per- 
 ceive that he is the Source whence every bles- 
 sing is derived, and the great object of gratitude 
 and love. But as this is a subject of high import- 
 ance, and on which I love to dwell, my friend 
 will not, I am sure, think it improper, if I express 
 myself upon it with more particularity. 
 
121 
 
 As my Creator and Preserver, I owe to him all 
 the faculties of my soul and hody, all the capa- 
 cities which I have for the enjoyment of corpo- 
 real, intellectual, and spiritual ohjects; and, 
 consequently, all the advantage and pleasure that 
 I have received from these sources. 
 
 As the Author of the laws of nature, of the 
 material, animal, and rational world, I am in- 
 debted to him for every benefit, which I have 
 derived from this grand system of Divine wis- 
 dom and goodness. He has not only given me 
 powers to receive happy impressions, but he has 
 arranged and disposed his works, so that their 
 regular operations supply those powers with 
 objects, which are calculated to employ and 
 gratify them. When this great machine of 
 nature, or any part of it, produces in me plea- 
 surable or beneficial effects, 1 must attribute 
 them all to its beneficent Author, who superin- 
 tends and permits these operations. If I am, 
 at any time, enabled to conduct myself so hap- 
 pily, as to receive particular benefits from this 
 arrangement and operation of second causes, I 
 still owe them all to Him, who has both pre- 
 sented the feast, and given me power to partake 
 of it, and liberty to choose what is best for me. 
 If, therefore, I am tempted to ascribe any thing 
 exclusively to myself, from the right use of my 
 
 18 
 
122 
 
 ability, as a free agent, I am instantly checked 
 by the reflection, that this ability itself is the gift 
 of God. 
 
 I can not, on this occasion, avoid making a 
 few observations, respecting this important sen- 
 timent, the free agency of man. Whatever diffi- 
 culties attend the subject, and how perplexed 
 soever it may have been rendered, by the rea- 
 sonings of subtle and ingenious disputants ; I 
 never had a doubt of its existence. The con- 
 sciousness which we have of such a power in the 
 human mind, and the necessity there is for it, in 
 order to make us accountable beings ; the cor- 
 respondent declarations of the Holy Scriptures, 
 and the dealings of God with men, which always 
 suppose them to be free and moral agents ; afford 
 such evidence of the truth of this fundamental 
 article of religion, as appears to me irresistible. 
 If we are unable rationally to explain this prin- 
 ciple of action, and to reconcile it with other 
 great truths ; we should reflect, that our intel- 
 lectual powers are of a very limited nature ; that 
 there are many things which we do not under- 
 stand, but which we firmly believe ; some points 
 of doctrine which we must admit, without being, 
 at present, able to explain them. That profound 
 philosopher, the venerable Locke, entertained 
 the most unshaken belief, both in the prescience 
 
123 
 
 of the Divine Being, and in the free agency of 
 man ; though he confessed that his finite capaci- 
 ty was not able to reconcile them. -When we 
 have sufficient evidence for truths which we can 
 not clearly comprehend, and humbly submit to 
 that evidence, faith becomes a special virtue, 
 and weakness is converted into strength. I will 
 not pursue this subject any further, but proceed 
 in my remarks on the benefits we receive, and in 
 tracing the great Object of our gratitude. 
 
 As the Controller and Director of the laws of 
 nature, I am under peculiar obligations to him, 
 for all the comforts and benefits, which, in con- 
 sequence of this direction, I have received. 
 This divine interposition to overrule, and ap- 
 point the operation of second causes, natural and 
 moral, and make them answer his sovereign 
 purposes, constitutes the special government and 
 providence of God. And all the good obtained, 
 and evil avoided, from this interposition, must be 
 attributed to Him, who not only superintends, 
 but rules and directs, all things, according to his 
 pleasure ; who can turn aside impending calam- 
 ities, and convert that into good, which, in its 
 natural progress or design, would have been pro- 
 ductive of injury to us. 
 
 If I consider the Divine Being, as immediately 
 influencing my mind, by the operation of his 
 
124 
 
 Holy Spirit; consoling me under affliction; 
 guarding me in prosperity; strengthening my 
 faith ; animating me to piety and virtue, and 
 supporting me in temptation ; I perceive that 
 he is eminently entitled to my gratitude and 
 praise, for all the blessings which I receive by 
 these gracious communications. He has access 
 to the human mind, and knows all its wants and 
 imperfections; and he has promised to give the 
 Holy Spirit, to be a light and defence, a support 
 and comfort, to those who implore his assistance, 
 and put their trust in the Divine Redeemer of 
 the world. And most assuredly he does not fail 
 to perform these sacred promises to the children 
 of men, though the mode of his communications 
 is incomprehensible. 
 
 I consider myself as under deep obligations to 
 God, for the trials and afflictions with which he 
 has been pleased to visit me, as well as for the 
 prosperous events of my life. They have been 
 the corrections and restraints of a wise and mer- 
 ciful Father; and may justly be ranked among 
 the number of my choicest blessings. I am firm- 
 ly persuaded, that cross occurrences, and ad- 
 verse situations, may be improved by us to the 
 happiest purposes. The spirit of resignation to 
 the will of Heaven, which they inculcate, and the 
 virtuous exertions to which they prompt us, in 
 
125 
 
 order to make the best of our condition, not 
 only often greatly amend it, but confer on the 
 mind a strength and elevation, which dispose 
 it to survey with less attachment the transient 
 things of time, and to desire more earnestly the 
 eternal happiness of an other world. 
 
 I must not omit to mention, on this occasion, 
 that I consider it as a distinguished felicity, de- 
 manding the most grateful acknowledgments 
 to Almighty God, that I have lived in a part of 
 the world, which has been enlightened by the 
 rays of the Gospel ; where the Holy Scriptures, 
 in their genuine purity and excellence, are read 
 and understood ; and where many bright exam- 
 ples of piety and virtue, in the various ranks and 
 walks of life, demonstrate the divine efficacy of 
 the sublime truths and precepts of Christianity. 
 This is a blessing which it is difficult fully to 
 appreciate. A survey of the condition of those 
 nations, in point of religion and morality, on 
 whom the light of the Gospel has not yet shone, 
 may afford us some conception of our inestima- 
 ble privilege, in possessing this Sacred Volume: 
 which, as an excellent writer* observes, " has 
 God for its author ; salvation for its end ; and 
 truth, without any mixture of error, for its 
 matter." 
 
 * Locke. 
 
126 
 
 From the preceding enumeration and view of 
 these most interesting subjects, even in so con- 
 cise and imperfect a manner, it must be evident, 
 that all our benefits, by whatever means they 
 are conveyed to us, are derived from God, the 
 Fountain of life and goodness. And it is scarcely 
 possible to contemplate the blessings which have 
 been so abundantly bestowed upon us ; and to 
 reflect on our own unworthiness; without being 
 deeply sensible of these mercies, and rendering 
 to our Divine Benefactor the tribute of thanks- 
 giving and praise. On this occasion, the exam- 
 ple and devotional spirit of the sweet Psalmist 
 of Israel, naturally present themselves to our 
 minds. He was often and strongly impressed 
 with sentiments of this nature: particularly when 
 he composed the one hundred and third Psalm; in 
 which he thus pours forth his grateful emotions. 
 " Bless the Lord, O my soul ! and all that is 
 within me bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O 
 my soul ! and forget not all his benefits : who for- 
 giveth all thine iniquities : who healeth all thine 
 infirmities : who redeemeth thy life from de- 
 struction ; and crowneth thee with loving kind- 
 ness and tender mercies." This devout prince 
 was ever ready to ascribe all the blessings of his 
 life to the goodness of God ; and took great de- 
 light in recounting his favours, and acknowledg- 
 
127 
 
 ing his care and protection. These duties apply 
 to us also; and they are enforced by the most 
 important and interesting considerations. 
 
 When we reflect on the universal presence of 
 the Deity, his perfect knowledge of all things, 
 and his gracious declaration, that we are so much 
 regarded by him, that the very hairs of our head 
 are numbered; can we have the least hesitation 
 in acknowledging his goodness, and his most par- 
 ticular providence ? his continual, watchful at- 
 tention over us, and all our concerns, in order to 
 promote our comfort here, and to train us up 
 for happiness hereafter? Should not the knowl- 
 edge of his sacred presence and guardianship, 
 excite us also to the utmost circumspection, in 
 our thoughts, words, and actions ? Have we not 
 abundant encouragement, in all our spiritual and 
 temporal exigencies, to apply to him, with filial 
 confidence, for the aid of his Holy Spirit, to en- 
 lighten, relieve, and support us ? Surrounded as 
 we are with danger and temptations, and ex- 
 posed to the assaults of subtle and powerful 
 enemies, how consoling and animating is the 
 thought, that the Lord of heaven and earth 
 knows perfectly our situation; perceives with 
 complacency every virtuous conflict ; and gra- 
 ciously interests himself, as a Father and Friend, 
 in our protection and deliverance ! If we were 
 
128 
 
 duly influenced by these devout sentiments, we 
 should be prepared for all the vicissitudes of this 
 mutable world : and we should steadily pursue 
 our journey through it, always thankful, and 
 often rejoicing. 
 
 In the course of this narrative, I have occa- 
 sionally made a number of observations on serious 
 and religious subjects ; and they are the delib- 
 erate convictions of my understanding, and the 
 genuine feelings of my heart. But I must not 
 be understood, as at all intimating, that I have 
 attained the virtues, the objects to which many 
 of these observations refer. I know that I am, 
 indeed, very far from such an attainment ; that 
 I have great weaknesses, and many imperfec- 
 tions ; and that they are all, in some degree, 
 under the influence of a subtle and powerful 
 adversary, ever watchful to circumvent and de- 
 stroy. I lament their operation and effects : but 
 I trust that, by Divine Grace, through Jesus 
 Christ, I am, and I shall be, enabled to maintain 
 the warfare against them : and a hope lives in 
 my heart, that, for his sake, I shall finally be 
 made victorious over all my spiritual enemies. 
 
 I can not finish these Memoirs of my life, with- 
 out expressing, still more particularly, my sense 
 of the greatest blessing which was ever conferred 
 on mankind. I mean, the redemption from sin, 
 
129 
 
 and the attainment of a happy immortality, by 
 the atonement and intercession of our Lord and 
 Saviour, Jesus Christ. I contemplate this won- 
 derful proof of the love of God to man, as an act 
 of mercy and benignity, which will stimulate the 
 gratitude and love, the obedience, praise, and 
 adoration, of the redeemed, through ages that 
 will never end. This high dispensation is, in 
 every respect, adapted to our condition, as frail 
 and sinful creatures. In surveying our offences 
 and imperfections, it prevents despondence ; di- 
 rects us where to look for relief; and freely 
 offers us, if we are truly penitent, and believe in 
 Christ, pardon and peace: in reflecting on our re- 
 ligious attainments, it checks presumption, and 
 keeps us humble : and, amidst all the trials and 
 troubles of life, it cheers us with the prospect of 
 a merciful deliverance, and of being soon receiv- 
 ed into those blissful regions, where we shall be 
 secured, eternally secured, from sin and sorrow; 
 where we shall be admitted into the Divine pre- 
 sence, and unceasingly celebrate, in joyful an- 
 thems, the praises of the Father, the Son, and 
 the Holy Spirit, one God blessed for ever. To 
 them who obtain this glorious and happy state, 
 all the afflictions of the longest and most painful 
 life, will then appear to have been, indeed, light 
 and momentary ; as a drop of the ocean, as a 
 19 
 
130 
 
 grain of sand on the sea-shore, compared with 
 the greatness of their felicity, and the endless 
 ages of its continuance. That this inestimable 
 blessing, my dear friend, may be ours, v\ hen we 
 have quitted this transient scene, is my very 
 fervent desire. 
 
 Lindley Murray. 
 
 
MEMOIRS CONTINUED. 
 
MEMOIRS CONTINUED. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CONCLUDING YEARS OF THE AUTHORS LIFE. 
 
 I HAVE now presented to the reader the short 
 but interesting recollections of the life of Mr. 
 Murray ; which he was induced to write in con- 
 sequence of my urgent request. They were 
 finished in the spring of 1809; and committed 
 to my care in the autumn of that year. On me 
 devolves the task of completing them. Not long 
 before the author's decease, as well as at other 
 times, I wished and earnestly desired him, to 
 bring them down to a much later period; which 
 I believe he would have done if his life had been 
 prolonged. TW addition would, I doubt not, 
 have been peculiarly interesting and edifying; 
 and would perhaps have afforded an almost un- 
 equalled proof of vigour of mind, and warmth 
 of benevolent and devotional feeling, in very 
 advanced age. But as he has performed more 
 
134 
 
 than I originally either proposed or expected, I 
 have no cause to complain ; and nothing to la- 
 ment, but my inability to do justice to the sub- 
 ject. A short account of the concluding years 
 of his life, his character, and some remarks on 
 his publications, will, I apprehend, comprise all 
 that is requisite for the information of the reader, 
 and will complete my tribute to the memory of 
 this excellent man. 
 
 In the course of the narrative, I shall intro- 
 duce a few circumstances, which, according to 
 the strict order of time, shquld have been in- 
 serted in Mr. Murray's own memoirs ; but which, 
 from modesty, and other obvious motives, he 
 has omitted. 
 
 Soon after the conclusion of his memoirs, he 
 experienced a considerable increase of debility 
 and indisposition ; from which he did not think 
 he should recover. In that expectation, he fre- 
 quently expressed, as on many similar occasions, 
 his assured hope of happiness in the life to come, 
 through the merits and mediation of our blessed 
 Lord Jesus Christ ; utterly disclaiming all con- 
 fidence in any good deeds that ^ fiad been en- 
 abled to do, and all idea of acceptance with God 
 through them, or for them. 
 
 Till this period he was able to go out daily 
 in his carriage; and in summer, he was fre- 
 quently drawn about his garden in a chair con- 
 
135 
 
 veniently made for that purpose. But he was 
 at length induced, though reluctantly, to relin- 
 quish all the little exercise which he had been 
 accustomed to take. He found that even a very 
 small degree of bodily exertion, increased the 
 muscular weakness of his limbs , and that ex- 
 posure to the air occasioned frequent and severe 
 colds, together with other indisposition. The 
 last time he went out in his carriage, was in 
 autumn, 1809. From that time till his decease, 
 the space of upwards of sixteen years, he was 
 wholly confined to the house; with the excep- 
 tion of one or two times, when, after an illness, 
 he went out in a sedan, but without receiving 
 any benefit. 
 
 The total want of exercise appears to have 
 brought on a painful disorder; which, in June, 
 1810, terminated in the discharge of a small 
 stone. His sufferings for some days were severe, 
 and, for a few hours, acute: but his mind was, as 
 usual, calm and resigned. In an interval of com- 
 parative ease, he said : "My trust is in the mercy 
 of God, through Christ, my Redeemer. Nothing 
 which I have done, that may seem meritorious, 
 affords me any satisfaction, on reflection, except 
 as an earnest of divine mercy and goodness." 
 Having voided the stone, and finding instant 
 relief, he exclaimed, with lively and grateful 
 feeling: "I am eased of my pain! I have great 
 
136 
 
 cause to be thankful, even if the relief should 
 prove but temporary." 
 
 Some time afterwards he had a slight return 
 of a similar disorder. And for several succeeding 
 years, he was much afflicted with oppressive lan- 
 guor ; and with very uncomfortable sensations 
 in his head, stomach, and bowels. But, upon 
 the whole, his health was not so much impaired 
 as might have been expected, from his total con- 
 finement to the house, his advanced age, and en- 
 feebled constitution. His spirits were, with 
 very slight exceptions, uniformly good ; his de- 
 meanour was, at all times, gentle ; and his dis- 
 position, mild, cheerful, and obliging. 
 
 When his health would allow, he found, till 
 the close of life, much useful occupation, and 
 even amusement, in revising and improving his 
 Works. His grammatical productions, in par- 
 ticular, engaged a considerable portion of his 
 time and attention. As the public had so liber- 
 ally approved and encouraged them, he thought 
 it was incumbent upon him to bring them as 
 near as he could to a state of completeness. He 
 was particularly solicitous to render them ex- 
 plicit, and free from difficulty; to remove ob- 
 jections which had occurred, and to prevent 
 others which might be formed, to different parts 
 of the works. These objects, though important, 
 he has in many instances accomplished, without 
 
137 
 
 much alteration. " By the change of a word," 
 he observes, " a slight variation in the form of a 
 phrase, an additional sentence, or a short note, 
 I have, as I think, frequently removed an objec- 
 tion or difficulty, and made that perspicuous, 
 which seemed to be obscure or ambiguous. And 
 I believe that all these variations have been ef- 
 fected, without any material deviations from the 
 original plan and principles of the Grammar." 
 To the octavo Grammar, he made large and im- 
 portant additions, as well as corrections. The 
 later editions of the duodecimo Grammar, Ex- 
 ercises, and Key, also underwent much amend- 
 ment. To enlarge and improve the Power of 
 Religion, was, from its first publication to the 
 latest period of the author's life, a favourite ob- 
 ject of his attention. But his parental care and 
 regard were bestowed on all his works. What- 
 ever he found erroneous or deficient in one edi- 
 tion, he corrected or supplied in an other. The 
 editions pressed close upon him: but they sel- 
 dom failed to receive from him some portion of 
 attention, and consequent benefit. No author, 
 1 believe, ever had so much opportunity to re- 
 vise, improve, and enlarge his works; arid no one 
 could have availed himself of it, with greater 
 judgment, or more unwearied vigilance. 
 
 He was induced, also, to prepare some new 
 publications, which he conceived would be use- 
 20 
 
138 
 
 ful. Having himself derived much benefit and 
 satisfaction from the frequent perusal of bishop 
 Home's Commentary on the Psalms, and being 
 desirous of extending that benefit to others, he 
 made and published " A Selection" from that 
 invaluable work. It was well received ; and has 
 been approved and recommended by several 
 very respectable public critics. 
 
 He wrote also a little piece, published in 1817, 
 " On the Duty and Benefit of a daily Perusal of 
 the Holy Scriptures." It is well composed ; and, 
 I doubt not, it has promoted, in no small degree, 
 the important object which the author had in 
 view. It expresses, in striking terms, the rev- 
 erence which he felt for the Scriptures ; and 
 the benefit which he derived from that serious 
 perusal of them, which he recommends to others. 
 To endeavour reverently to compose the mind, 
 before any portion of Scripture is read or heard; 
 and when it is finished, to allow time, by a short 
 pause, for devout meditation, or useful reflection, 
 on what has been read or heard ; is advice well 
 worthy of attention, and consonant with Mr. 
 Murray's own practice. The inefficacy which 
 usually attends the reading of the Bible, is not 
 owing to any defect in the sacred volume ; but 
 to the want of serious attention, or of previous 
 preparation in those who read or hear. 
 
139 
 
 Mr. Murray, from his retired life and unas- 
 suming character, did not receive any of those 
 academical honours, to which the publication of 
 his grammatical works, no doubt, fully entitled 
 him. A tribute of respect was, however, paid to 
 him by two literary societies at New York. In 
 1810, he was elected an honorary member of the 
 Historical Society; and in 1816, of the Literary 
 and Philosophical Society. But he was not 
 covetous of honour. The high approbation 
 which his works received, was gratifying to him; 
 chiefly because it was an earnest and a proof of 
 their usefulness. 
 
 His acquaintance and society, particularly 
 after his works had obtained celebrity, were 
 much courted by respectable and literary per- 
 sons. But there was a genuine humility, and 
 even a diffidence, in his nature, which seemed to 
 shrink from the idea of personally attracting any 
 share of public curiosity or observation. The 
 general debility under which he laboured, and 
 which was usually increased by the exertion ne- 
 cessarily attendant on the receiving of strangers, 
 and conversing with them, was, however, the 
 chief cause which induced him to decline much 
 company. Indeed, the calls, and applications 
 for introduction, which he received, were so 
 numerous, that had he encouraged them, the 
 early and regular hours which he kept, would 
 
140 
 
 have been much broken in upon, and the leisure 
 which he enjoyed for literary pursuits, greatly 
 interrupted : and it was highly desirable that 
 his valuable time should be preserved free from 
 invasion. 
 
 But he did not, on any occasion, decline com- 
 pany, because he was unsocial, or, in the slightest 
 degree, hypochondriacal. His friends frequently 
 visited him : they knew the hours most suitable 
 to him; they were careful not to encroach too 
 much on his time ; and they did not expect him 
 to converse, when higher engagements, or indis- 
 position, rendered it inconvenient. He took a 
 lively concern in the transactions of his domestic 
 circle ; and conversed, with interest, on public 
 affairs. When he was in a tolerable state of 
 health, no one more cheerfully enjoyed, or more 
 agreeably promoted, social intercourse. Far from 
 needing consolation from his visiters, he com- 
 municated it to them. Like a gentle stream by 
 the way side, he enlivened and refreshed them. 
 
 Many strangers, however, and distinguished 
 literary persons, were at different times, and on 
 various occasions, introduced to him; and ex- 
 pressed, in strong terms, the pleasure which they 
 derived from the interview : amongst these may 
 be particularly mentioned the earl of Buchan, in 
 1802, and the Edge worths, in 1803. On the 
 lively fancy of Mr. Edgeworth arid his daughter 
 
141 
 
 Maria, their visit to Holdgate formed a very 
 pleasing picture, often reverted to with much 
 satisfaction, in which even "the benevolent looks 
 of Mrs. Murray, when she offered them some 
 cake and wine, were not forgotten." Their visit 
 was in the evening, and wholly unexpected. 
 With the kind reception which they received, 
 they were much gratified. Mr. Murray himself 
 far exceeded their expectation. His personal 
 apearance, his unassuming demeanour, and his 
 conversational powers, excited in their minds a 
 most agreeable surprise. When they called at 
 Holdgate, they were on a tour, of which an ex- 
 cursion to Paris had formed part. Mr. Murray's 
 sequestered little abode, and its happy and res- 
 pectable inhabitants, formed, no doubt, a very 
 striking contrast to the gay and literary circles 
 in which they had mixed. They considered Mr. 
 and Mrs. Murray as " the most striking example 
 of domestic happiness, and of religion without 
 ostentation, or the spirit of dogmatising, which 
 they had ever beheld." 
 
 Mr. Murray bore his honours so meekly ; he 
 was so intelligent, not only on literary subjects,, 
 but also on the common affairs of life ; and he 
 adapted his conversation, so judiciously and 
 kindly, to the capacities, tastes, and characters, 
 of the persons to whom it was addressed, that no 
 one, whether learned or unlearned, young or old, 
 
142 
 
 gay or grave, could partake of it without feeling 
 highly gratified. In him no one could observe 
 any vanity, egotism, or eccentricity. Few, I 
 believe, ever visited him, who did not hear 
 something from him, to inform their judgment, 
 or to amend their heart. 
 
 Seldom did he make his sufferings and priva- 
 tions the subject of conversation. When on 
 any occasion they were mentioned, he never 
 failed to enumerate, and frequently he expatiated 
 very pathetically on, the many alleviating and 
 comfortable circumstances that attended them: 
 the pleasantness of his dwelling; the kindness of 
 his friends ; the constant company, and affection- 
 ate attention, of his wife ; the ability of pursu- 
 ing literary occupations ; and the calm state of 
 his mind. He would sometimes say: "When 
 I first lost the use of my limbs, and saw my 
 friends walking about, and pursuing their res- 
 pective business or amusement, I wished to be, 
 and to do, like them : but now, by long use, 
 confinement has become familiar to me ; and, I 
 believe, it is less irksome and afflictive, than 
 many persons who have not experienced it, 
 would imagine. My blessings far overbalance my 
 afflictions. Indeed, I have so many enjoyments 
 yet left me, and I possess so many comforts, 
 that I can scarcely term my situation an afflic- 
 tion." He often said that what had very much 
 
143 
 
 tended to reconcile him to his confinement, was 
 a belief that he had been more extensively use- 
 ful, than he could have been, if he had continued 
 in the possession of that health and strength 
 which he once enjoyed. 
 
 To pass from an author's works to his life and 
 conversation, frequently occasions disappoint- 
 ment: but with respect to Mr. Murray, the 
 transition was honourable. Personal acquaint- 
 ance increased esteem and regard. Between his 
 life and his works there was a striking coinci- 
 dence. His writings might be truly called a fair 
 transcript of his mind; and his life and conver- 
 sation a beautiful exemplification of the moral 
 and religious principles, which his writings uni- 
 formly inculcate. 
 
 For many years, his infirmities did not allow 
 him to rise from his seat, on the entrance of a 
 visiter ; and not unfrequently the weakness of 
 his voice, contracted by severe colds, or by over- 
 exertions, prevented his uttering any words ex- 
 cept in a whisper: but on such occasions, his 
 kindly extended hand, and his smile of ineffable 
 benignity, bespoke a welcome far more cordial 
 and affecting, than could have been expressed by 
 any of the usual forms of civility. When I first 
 saw him, he was forty-eight years of age : but 
 both then, and long afterwards, he looked consid- 
 erably younger than he really was. The impres- 
 
144 
 
 sion which his noble aspect, his gentle demean- 
 our, his cheerful, sensible, and, occasionally, pi- 
 ous conversation, produced on rny mind, can nev- 
 er be obliterated whilst my memory continues. 
 
 So excellent was his character, so mild and 
 engaging his deportment, that persons having 
 but a very slight acquaintance with him, or 
 seeing him only occasionally on business, seemed 
 to contract a strong personal regard for him : 
 they frequently inquired, with apparent solici- 
 tude, respecting his health ; and spoke of him 
 in terms of the highest respect and esteem. 
 Even strangers, merely from the report which 
 they heard of him, would solicitously inquire 
 after him; and, not unfrequently, send him 
 some little message, or token, of respect. To 
 know him, though but imperfectly, was to love 
 and esteem him ; and if any persons did not love 
 and esteem him, it was because they did not 
 know him, or had not heard the full and true re- 
 port of his good deeds and amiable disposition. 
 
 Mr. Murray was much respected by many of 
 his most distinguished cotemporaries in America. 
 When his works had procured for him a high 
 degree of celebrity, the testimony of their appro- 
 bation, especially of those with whom he had 
 been personally acquainted, was peculiarly ac- 
 ceptable to him. From his fellow-student, Mr. 
 Jay, and from many other highly respectable 
 
145 
 
 persons, he received, on various occasions, let- 
 ters replete with expressions of esteem, regard, 
 and warm congratulation. 
 
 Several of his countrymen, at different times, 
 visited him : two of whom having, in their trav- 
 els, given an account of their visit, I shall di- 
 versify this narrative, by giving an extract from 
 each. 
 
 The first is from " Travels in England, Hol- 
 land, and Scotland, by Benjamin Silliman, profes- 
 sor of chemistry, at Yale College, Connecticut." 
 
 " Towards evening," (Nov. 19, 1805,) "I went 
 out on horseback to Holdgate, a village in the 
 vicinity of York; for the purpose of seeing a 
 countryman of ours, who is well known to the 
 world, both by his writings and the excellence 
 of his character. I carried an introductory letter, 
 which procured me the kindest reception ; and 
 all unnecessary ceremony being waved, I was 
 seated at once between Mr. and Mrs. Murray. 
 
 Mr. Murray, I need not inform you, enjoys a 
 distinguished literary reputation ; and this, al- 
 though well deserved, is by no means his most 
 enviable distinction, for he is an eminently good 
 man. Being afflicted with a muscular weakness 
 in his limbs, he removed, about twenty years 
 ago, from New York to England, hoping for 
 relief from the temperate climate of this island. 
 The expected benefit he has not been so happy 
 
 21 
 
146 
 
 as to obtain; his debility still continues to such a 
 degree, that he can walk only a few steps at once* 
 
 I found him sitting on a sofa, to which he 
 has been generally confined for many years. 
 Although unable to benefit mankind by active 
 exertions in any of the common pursuits of busi- 
 ness, he has made full amends by the labours of 
 his mind. In the chaste, perspicuous, and pol- 
 ished style of his writings, in the pure and dig- 
 nified moral sentiments which they contain, 
 and even in the simple and yet elegant typo- 
 graphical execution, one may discern proofs of 
 the character of the man. He belongs to the 
 society of Friends; but both he and Mrs. Mur- 
 ray have so tempered the strictness of the man- 
 ners peculiar to their society, that they are pol- 
 ished people, with the advantage of the utmost 
 simplicity of deportment. 
 
 I was fortunate in finding Mr. Murray able to 
 converse with freedom; for, at times, he is un- 
 able to utter even a whisper, and is compelled 
 to decline seeing his friends. Our conversation 
 related principally to literature, morals, and re- 
 ligion; and the state of these important subjects 
 in the United States and in England. I asked 
 him if he had relinquished the idea of returning 
 to his country, and of observing the great change 
 which these things had undergone in a period of 
 twenty years. He said that he still cherished a 
 
147 
 
 faint hope of seeing his native land again ; that 
 hope was, like a star, often obscured, but twink- 
 ling now and then, to revive his spirits. 
 
 One would suppose that a situation so peculiar 
 as that Mr. Murray, would naturally induce a 
 degree of impatience of temper, or at least of 
 depression of spirits; but I know not that I 
 have ever seen more equanimity, and sweetness 
 of deportment, joined with a more serene and 
 happy cheerfulness, than in this instance. When 
 the painful circumstances of his situation were 
 alluded to, he expressed his gratitude to Heaven, 
 for the many comforts and alleviations which, 
 he said, he enjoyed under his confinement. 
 
 You would not judge from his appearance that 
 he is an infirm man, for his countenance is rather 
 ruddy; and it is animated with a strong expres- 
 sion of benevolence. His person is tall, and 
 well-formed ; and his manner of conversing is 
 modest, gentle, easy, and persuasive. 
 
 Being afraid of inducing him to converse be- 
 yond his strength, towards the close of the 
 evening I reluctantly rose to come away; and 
 was solicited, in the most gratifying manner, to 
 protract and repeat my visit. Declining the 
 former, and having no prospect of the latter, I 
 took a cordial farewell of these excellent people; 
 and rode back to York with impressions of the 
 most agreeable kind. 
 
148 
 
 Who would not rather be Mr. Murray, con- 
 fined to his sofa, than Napoleon, the guilty pos- 
 sessor of a usurped crown, and the sanguinary 
 oppressor of Europe ?" 
 
 The second extract is from a work entitled, 
 " A Year in Europe, in 1818 and 1819, by John 
 Griscom, professor of chemistry and natural 
 philosophy in the New York Institution." 
 
 " Among the social occurrences which I shall 
 remember with the most pleasure, is a visit this 
 afternoon," (27th of February, 1819,) "to our 
 very estimable countryman, Lindley Murray. 
 He still resides at the little village of Holdgate, 
 about three quarters of a mile from the city of 
 York. His increasing infirmity of body has 
 latterly been such, as to prevent him from re- 
 ceiving the visits of strangers. But coming 
 from New York, and being acquainted with his 
 nearest relations, he was induced to yield to my 
 request and grant me an interview. Though so 
 weak as to be scarcely able to bear his own 
 weight, he has been enabled, by the power of 
 a strong and well balanced mind, and by the 
 exercise of the Christian virtues, to gain a com- 
 plete ascendency over himself; and to exhibit an 
 instance of meekness, patience, and humility, 
 which affords, I may truly say, one of the most 
 edifying examples I have ever beheld. His 
 mind is still clear, sound, and discriminating; 
 
149 
 
 and he feels the interest of a true philanthropist, 
 in the progress of education, and the general 
 welfare of his fellow-creatures. I have been 
 informed, by persons who were his youthful 
 cotemporaries, that he was possessed by nature 
 of great vivacity of feeling, and passions not less 
 difficult to control, than those which fall to the 
 ordinary lot of humanity. But so effectually 
 have the graces of the Christian surmounted the 
 waywardness of nature, and diffused their benign 
 influence over the whole teriour of his mind, as 
 to produce upon his countenance, a lustre and a 
 sweetness of expression, 'with less of earth in 
 them than heaven.' 
 
 The temperature of his room is regulated by 
 the thermometer. A constant care of this kind, 
 joined to temperance in diet, has enabled him to 
 live without exercise ; to support a frame of un- 
 usual debility; and to prolong to old age, a life 
 of the greatest usefulness to his fellow-creatures. 
 Having brought with him to England a fortune 
 competent to his moderate wants, he has devoted 
 the whole profit of his literary labours to the 
 promotion of various benevolent institutions, and 
 to other deeds of charity. He has been blessed 
 with a most amiable and intelligent wife; the 
 companion of his early years, and the faithful 
 and sympathizing partner in all that concerns 
 him. A young woman, who serves them as 
 
150 
 
 housekeeper, appears also well qualified, by the 
 respectability of her character and acquirements, 
 to perform the duties of an almost filial trust. 
 
 It is thirty-four years since this worthy pair 
 left their native shores : but their feelings are 
 still American ; and to listen to a particular re- 
 lation of the enlargement of our cities, and the 
 progress of the country, afforded them evidently 
 the most lively satisfaction ; while, at the same 
 time, a consideration of the small number of the 
 numerous acquaintance they left behind, who 
 are now on the stage of life, gave to the con- 
 versation a placid melancholy, which served but 
 to increase the warmth and tenderness of the 
 interview." 
 
 Mr. Murray lived, during a long course of 
 years, a very retired life. Though an object of 
 general esteem, respect, and admiration, he was 
 known intimately, or even personally, but to 
 few. The following particulars, therefore, re- 
 specting his habits and manners of living, though 
 minute, may perhaps be acceptable to the reader, 
 and not devoid of interest; and, in time to come, 
 they may supply the place of vague, traditionary 
 report. In a physical point of view, they may 
 also be useful. It has frequently been made a 
 subject of inquiry, how a person could support 
 entire confinement to the house, and even to one 
 seat, during many years, and yet preserve to the 
 
151 
 
 last, a comfortable state of health, evenness and 
 cheerfulness of spirits, and surprising vigour of 
 mind. 
 
 Mr. Murray carefully avoided all habits of 
 indolence, both with respect to body and mind. 
 He generally rose about seven o'clock in the 
 morning; but rather later in the depth of winter. 
 When he was dressed, and seated in an arm 
 chair, which had casters, his wife rolled him, with 
 ease, to the sofa,* in his sitting room ; on which, 
 after he gave up taking any exercise, he sat 
 during the whole day. At meal times, the table 
 was brought to him. At other times, a small 
 stand, with a portable writing desk on it, was 
 generally before him. The papers and books 
 which he was using, were laid on the sofa, by his 
 side: but they were usually removed before the 
 entrance of any visiter, as he disliked the parade 
 of literature. His wife sat on a chair close by 
 his side; except when, through courtesy, she 
 relinquished her seat to some friend, or visiter, 
 with whom he wished particularly to converse. 
 The room being rather narrow, the sofa was 
 placed against the wall. Mr. Murray never sat 
 by the fire: but to avoid the draught from the 
 doors and windows, he was obliged to sit nearly 
 
 * The sofa which he had brought with him, from America; 
 and on which he sat, or lay, daring the voyage. 
 
152 
 
 opposite ; from the ill effects of which, he was 
 guarded by a small skreen, between him and the 
 fire. He attributed, in a great measure, the 
 preservation of his sight to extreme old age, to 
 his constantly avoiding the glare of fire and 
 candles. When he read or wrote by candlelight, 
 he used a shade candlestick. 
 
 His sitting room was of a good size, and 
 particularly pleasant, having a window at each 
 end: the one with a south aspect, looked to the 
 garden; the other to the turnpike-road, and to 
 some fields, across one of which, was a pathway 
 leading to the city of York. The trees and 
 flowers in his garden, the passengers on the road 
 and pathway, and the rural occupations in the 
 fields, afforded a pleasing diversity of scene, 
 cheering to his mind, and relieving to his eyes, 
 when fatigued with composing, reading, or 
 writing. An awning was placed in summer, 
 over the south window, to shade off the rays of 
 the sun. Thus secured, and having a constant 
 but almost imperceptible ventilation, occasioned 
 by two large windows opposite to each other, 
 and also by two doors and the fire, the room was 
 always sweet, fresh, and salubrious. A fire, even 
 in summer, was constantly kept up through the 
 whole day, which, as Mr. Murray justly ob- 
 served, tended to carry off the noxious particles 
 of air ; but the room, in the warmest weather, 
 
153 
 
 was considerably cooler and fresher than apart' 
 ments usually are. Mr. Murray could not bear 
 a partial exposure to the air; therefore, he never 
 sat with the doors or windows open. But in 
 the morning, before he came into the room, it 
 was completely ventilated by the opening of both 
 windows for a short time ; and thus a free cur- 
 rent of air was admitted. His bed room was 
 also ventilated once or twice during the course 
 of the day. So sensible was he of the pernicious 
 effects of breathing vitiated air, that he never 
 had the curtains of his bed drawn. As a further 
 preventive from over heating his sitting room, he 
 had two of Fahrenheit's thermometers : the one 
 was placed at the outside of the north window; 
 the other was hung in the room, at a distance 
 from the fire. The temperature of the room was 
 usually from sixty-three to sixty-five degrees. 
 
 Mr. Murray's bed room was large ; it had the 
 same aspect, and was on the same floor, as his 
 sitting room, and opened into it ; and had also 
 two windows, one at each end. But as the chim- 
 ney could not be made to carry up the smoke, he 
 was obliged in all his illnesses, when the weather 
 was cold, to have a bed brought in'o his sitting 
 room ; and in that room, very near the seat on 
 which he had done so much good, he breathed 
 his last, and passed, I trust, from the employ- 
 ments of time to the rewards of eternity. 
 
 22 
 
154 
 
 Soon after he came into his sitting room, in 
 the morning, he took his breakfast ; after which, 
 his wife, or some one of his family, read to him 
 a portion of the Scripture, or of some other re- 
 ligious book. Home's Commentary on the 
 Psalms, and Doddridge's Family Expositor, omit- 
 ting the notes and paraphrase, were the books 
 which he chiefly used for this purpose, arid also 
 for his evening meditation. After a short pause, 
 he proceeded to transact the business of the day, 
 of which the hearing or reading of a daily jour- 
 nal formed part; or he applied immediately to 
 his literary avocations. Until he became wholly 
 confined to the house, he took an airing in his 
 carriage, from twelve till half-past one. At two 
 he dined. After dinner, he sat quite still, closed 
 his eyes, and sometimes dozed, for nearly half an 
 hour; a practice which he brought with him 
 from America, and by which he found his 
 strength and spirits much recruited: then he re- 
 sumed his occupations; and continued them for 
 some hours, unless interrupted by company. 
 Religious reading in the family, and meditation, 
 closed the day. At ten, he and all his house- 
 hold retired to rest. This course of life he con- 
 tinued, with little variation, during the whole of 
 his residence in England. 
 
 There was nothing particular in his diet. It 
 was simple. He did not use tobacco in any 
 
155 
 
 shape. He never took spirits, and but seldom 
 wine ; and then only half a glass at most. At 
 dinner, he was accustomed, for many years after 
 he came into this country, to take about a gill of 
 London porter: afterwards, he gradually di- 
 minished the quantity, until he reduced it only 
 to a wine glass, diluted in warm water. His 
 breakfast and supper were, for some years, new 
 milk and baked rice, or sometimes toasted bread; 
 afterwards, chocolate boiled in milk and water, 
 and bread. At dinner, he partook of meat, 
 vegetables, pudding, and other ordinary dishes ; 
 but all cooked in a plain way. He did not, at 
 dinner, eat of more than one dish of meat. In 
 the afternoon, he sometimes took about half a 
 cup of tea, or of milk and water; but more fre- 
 quently instead of it, a small quantity of straw- 
 berries, grapes, or other sweet fruits, out of his 
 garden, or dried plums. Except in serious ill- 
 ness, he took no medicine ; and even then but 
 little : being of opinion that the too frequent use 
 of it weakens the tones of the stomach. Of the 
 beneficial effects of friction, by the hand simply, 
 he was thoroughly convinced. He made fre- 
 quent, if not daily use of it ; and never failed to 
 have recourse to it when his head, or any part 
 of his body, was affected with uncomfortable sen- 
 sations, particularly of a rheumatic nature. He 
 was of opinion that it not only produced local 
 
156 
 
 benefit ; but that, in his particular case, it tend- 
 ed, in a considerable degree, to supply the want 
 of other exercise. His appetite, till within a 
 few years previous to his decease, was good, 
 and rather uncommon, considering his sedentary 
 life. Much of that comfortable state of health 
 and vigour of mind, which he enjoyed in his old 
 age, must be ascribed, under the blessing of 
 Providence, to his temperance aud moderation, 
 to his judicious self-management, and to that 
 peacefulness and serenity, which are the usual 
 concomitants of a good and pious life. 
 
 In the year 1819, Mr. Murray lost his much 
 esteemed brother, John Murray, of New York. 
 In his character, and in some of the circumstan- 
 ces of his life, he bore a striking resemblance 
 to our author. He was of a lively and active 
 disposition ; kind and liberal, humane and pious. 
 Early in life, he engaged in mercantile pursuits ; 
 in which he was highly successful : but, in the 
 prime of life, having acquired a competency, he 
 relinquished them, and devoted the remainder of 
 his days to the service of religion and humanity. 
 He was particularly distinguished by his endeav- 
 ours to promote the abolition of slavery ; to 
 ameliorate the condition of the Indians of North 
 America ; and to establish and support various 
 institutions at New York, for the relief of 
 poverty, and the improvement of public morals. 
 
157 
 
 He was of a remarkably liberal and catholic 
 spirit. In the prosecution of his benevolent de- 
 signs, he associated much and freely with per- 
 sons of various religious denominations. He 
 often expressed an earnest desire, that Christians 
 should avoid unnecessary disputes about non- 
 essentials, and unite in promoting the common 
 cause, in which they all profess to be engaged. 
 
 Some years before his death, being at Albany, 
 on public business, when the streets were cover- 
 ed with ice, he had a fall, from the effects of which 
 he never recovered. He continued lame, and in 
 a disabled state of body ; and suffered great and 
 almost constant pain ; but he endured the afflic- 
 tion with fortitude and Christian patience ; nor 
 did it materially interrupt his career of benevo- 
 lence. He died in an act of supplication to the 
 Lord. His charities did not terminate with his 
 life. By his last will, he made many ample do- 
 nations and bequests for public and private 
 benefit. His name is remembered at New York, 
 with respect and gratitude, as a benefactor of 
 his country. 
 
 He left behind him two sons, and a widowed 
 daughter : who, in some degree, supplied to Mr. 
 Murray, the loss which he had sustained of a 
 kind and intelligent correspondent, in his native, 
 but far distant land. 
 
158 
 
 After the decease of his brother, our author 
 found himself the last surviving child of his pa- 
 rents. They had twelve children: and to him 
 appertained the peculiar circumstance of being 
 the first and the last of them all ; affording thus 
 a striking instance of the uncertain tenure of 
 life. When he left New York, he had a brother 
 living, and three sisters. They were in health 
 and vigour, and considerably younger than him- 
 self. He was feeble and languishing : but, in 
 course of years, they all died; and he lived to 
 mourn the loss of them, and to embalm their 
 memory. 
 
 When speaking of the many deprivations 
 which he had sustained, of kind friends and re- 
 latives, a circumstance which in his lengthened 
 life, was inevitable, he often said, in the words 
 of the poet : 
 
 " Our little lights go out one by one/' 
 
 But after all his bereavements, he still pos- 
 sessed, as he observed, the uncommon privilege 
 and providential favour of having his beloved 
 wife preserved to him. The continuance of this 
 blessing to the end of his days was inestimable. 
 No one, however kindly disposed, could have 
 supplied to him the place of a most affectionate 
 wife; a constant companion and faithful at- 
 tendant ; a beloved friend, with whom, from his 
 
159 
 
 youth, he took sweet counsel on all the concerns 
 of his life. He often said, he had abundant 
 cause to value her very highly, and to consider 
 her as the greatest temporal blessing of his life ; 
 and she was indeed fully entitled to his love and 
 esteem. 
 
 Mrs. Murray is not a showy woman, nor par- 
 ticularly literary : but she possesses a solid un- 
 derstanding, great firmness of mind, and a par- 
 ticularly kind disposition. To the poor and 
 afflicted, she is, in a high degree, liberal and 
 compassionate. By her skill and prudence in 
 the management of her household affairs, she 
 relieved her husband from all care or anxiety 
 on those subjects. She was most tenderly at- 
 tached, and even devoted, to him ; always pre- 
 ferring his gratification to her own. Her aged 
 and beloved father, and a large circle of rela- 
 tives and friends, she freely left to accompany 
 her husband into England. For many years 
 after she came into this country, she still called 
 New York her home ; but she never requested 
 or wished him to return. She encouraged and 
 assisted him, as far as she was able, in every 
 good word and work; and often expressed her 
 solicitous desire, that both she, and her " pre- 
 cious husband," as she frequently called him, 
 " might so pass through this life, as not to fail of 
 future and everlasting bliss ;" adding : If we 
 
160 
 
 are but prepared for that happy state, we need 
 not fear how soon we depart hence." During 
 the latter years of her husband's life, she scarce- 
 ly ever quitted the house ; and very rarely the 
 two rooms occupied by him. She said, she was 
 most comfortable with him; and that if he were 
 taken ill suddenly, as was sometimes the case, she 
 could never forgive herself, if she were absent. 
 
 As Mrs. Murray is still living, it may seem 
 indelicate to speak of her in terms thus com- 
 mendatory. But she is so intertwined with the 
 memory of her husband, that I could not write 
 any account of him without mentioning her ; and 
 I could not mention her except to praise her. 
 
 On the anniversary of their marriage, the 
 twenty-second of June, which was also the birth- 
 day of his wife, he never failed to congratulate 
 her on the return of that auspicious day. On 
 some of these occasions, occurring in a late pe- 
 riod of their union, he offered his congratulation 
 not only verbally, but also in WTiting : thus giv- 
 ing additional force, as well as permanence, to 
 the expression of his sentiments. In these written 
 testimonials, which she justly esteems amongst 
 the most valuable of her possessions, he assures 
 her that during the whole period of their union, 
 she has been, by far, his greatest earthly treasure: 
 that in health and sickness, in prosperous and 
 adverse situations, in all the varied events of 
 
161 
 
 their lives, he has ever found her the same uni- 
 form, kind, and fa'chful friend, the sweetener and 
 improver of every allotment: and he offers her 
 his most grateful acknowledgments for her cor- 
 dial attachment, and affectionate services ; for her 
 kind assiduity, and tender solicitude, to promote 
 his comfort and happiness in every respect. 
 
 From these beautiful little effusions of devo- 
 tional, as well as conjugal feeling, I have plea- 
 sure in presenting to the reader, a few extracts ; 
 which evince not only Mr. Murray's tender re- 
 gard for his wife, in the decline of life, but also 
 his increasing piety, his deep humility, and the 
 ground of his hope of finding mercy and accept- 
 ance with God. 
 
 1809. "This, my beloved Hannah, is the 
 forty-second anniversary of that happy period, 
 when we were joined together in the tender and 
 sacred bonds of wedlock. To me this event has 
 ever proved most auspicious; and I am per- 
 suaded that my choice could not have been hap- 
 pier. I have never seen a single moment, that 
 I could have wished my choice had been differ- 
 ent. But a few more, at the most, can be the 
 returns of this happy day. Perhaps not an other 
 may be given to us. If that should be the case, 
 let the surviver rather be thankful that so much 
 has been bestowed, than murmur because no 
 more was allowed. It is an inexpressible com- 
 
 23 
 
162 
 
 fort,that our latter years have been the sweetest 
 to us, though every part of our connexion has 
 been pleasant* 
 
 When the time comes, whether sooner or later, 
 that we must part, may the surviver be blessed 
 with the hope and faith, that a little time will 
 reunite us in the blessed abodes: where we 
 shall have, with purified affections and enlarged 
 minds, to sing the praises of our God and Sav- 
 iour, through the endless ages of eternity." 
 
 1812. "This day, my beloved Hannah, it is 
 forty-five years, since we were joined together 
 in the pleasant bonds of marriage. I feel grate- 
 ful to my heavenly Father, for the blessing of so 
 kind, and faithful, and so very suitable a part- 
 ner. Our connexion has continued for a much 
 longer period, than is common; and this is an 
 additional source of thankfulness to the bountiful 
 Author of all Good, But the longer we have 
 been preserved to each other, the shorter must 
 be the time that remains. May it be studiously 
 improved to the glory of God, and our own final 
 happiness ! 
 
 It is an inexpressible satisfaction to reflect, 
 that our latter days have been our best days; 
 and that a desire for each other's welfare, has in- 
 creased as we advanced in life. May our prayers 
 and labours for each other's future felicity, grow 
 more and more ardent, during the remainder of 
 
163 
 
 our short time ; and may the surviver rather be 
 thankful for the mercies that are past, than dwell 
 mournfully on those which are taken away. A 
 little time after the separation, will, I humbly 
 hope, reunite our spirit^ in a better world ; where 
 we shall glorify, praise, and serve our heavenly 
 Father, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, for endless 
 ages, with enlarged understandings and purified 
 affections, as the greatest happiness, and highest 
 perfection, of which our nature is capable." 
 
 1817. "This day, my beloved Hannah, we 
 have been united in the sacred bonds of wedlock, 
 for fifty years, half a century ! How very few 
 have lived together so many years, in this happy 
 connexion ! Many are the dangers we have 
 escaped, and the preservations we have expe- 
 rienced, during this length of time, which have 
 been seen and observed by us: but innumerable, 
 perhaps, have been the deliverances and pro- 
 tections, that were unseen and unknown, which 
 a gracious and merciful Providence has extended 
 towards us ! For these, and all his mercies and 
 blessings with which we have been favoured, we 
 are bound to praise and glorify Him, to adore, 
 love, and serve Him, most gratefully, during the 
 short remaining period of our lives here ; and in 
 his holy and happy kingdom hereafter, if we 
 should be blessed, as I humbly hope we shall, 
 to be partakers of that heavenly inheritance. 
 
164 
 
 May we, my dear Hannah, be very diligent to 
 improve the remaining portion of time, whether 
 it be longer or shorter : so that we may, at last, 
 when the hour of parting comes, have a well 
 founded hope that the season of separation will 
 be short ; and take leave of each other, as com- 
 panions who have been dearly united, and who, 
 through Infinite love and mercy, will be joined 
 again in the mansions of eternal peace ; where 
 we shall for ever rejoice together, in praising, 
 adoring, and serving our God and Redeemer, 
 with the highest gratitude and love, of which 
 our enlarged minds shall then be made capable. 
 
 In the course of the long period of our union, 
 we have had our trials and afflictions. But we 
 have been favoured too, with many great and 
 distinguished blessings. Even the afflictions, 
 and what appeared to be adverse occurrences, 
 were designed for our final wellbeing. I hope 
 the gracious intention of these dispensations will 
 be fully answered by our being safely landed, 
 through the atonement and intercession of our 
 blessed Redeemer, on those happy shores, where 
 no clouds nor storms are ever known; and where, 
 after millions of ages of happiness shall have 
 passed away, we shall only seem to have begun 
 our felicity, a felicity that will last for ever. 
 
 We know not, my dear Hannah, which of us 
 shall be first removed from this earthly scene ; 
 
165 
 
 which of us shall have to lament the loss of a 
 partner so long known and beloved. But which- 
 ever of us may be the surviver, let not that sur- 
 viver mourn as one without hope, but endeavour 
 to perform the remaining duties required ; to be 
 humbly resigned to the will of Heaven; and to 
 wait with patience and hope, for a blessed and 
 happy reunion." 
 
 1 82 1 . " This day, my beloved Hannah, is the 
 fifty-fourth anniversary of our marriage. At 
 this late period of our lives, we can not, in the 
 course of nature, look for a much longer contin- 
 uance together. Our remaining time here must 
 now be short. Perhaps we may not be permit- 
 ted to see an other anniversary of our union. If 
 this should be the case, or whenever we may be 
 removed from this transient scene, may the God 
 of love and mercy be graciously pleased, through 
 the blessed Redeemer, to give us an inheritance 
 in his holy and happy kingdom; there to be re- 
 united in our spirits, and joyfully employed in 
 thanksgivings and praises, and the most devout 
 and zealous services, to our heavenly Father and 
 Redeemer, for endless ages ! 
 
 Whichever of us may be the surviver, I hope 
 that Divine Goodness and Mercy will be near 
 to support that surviver under so deeply trying 
 an event, and to produce a humble, reverent 
 
166 
 
 submission to the will of Heaven. May we both, 
 my dear Hannah, now when the curtains of the 
 night are soon, or before long, to be drawn around 
 us, be more and more diligent to make our call- 
 ing and election sure; to be prepared for striking 
 our tents, and removing to a better world; 
 where, sinful and unworthy as I am, I hope, 
 through the infinite mercy of God in Jesus 
 Christ, to be admitted: and where, if admitted, 
 we shall be finally delivered from all sickness 
 and sorrow, from all sin, temptation, and imper- 
 fection." 
 
 As a further proof of Mr. Murray's piety and 
 humility, I present to the reader the following 
 memorandums ; all of which, except the two first, 
 were found in his desk after his decease. They 
 are mere fragments ; written on detached slips 
 of paper, some of them only with a pencil : but 
 fragments of such a mind as his, should be gath- 
 ered up, when it can be done with delicacy 
 and propriety, and without violating any known 
 or expressed wish of the writer. They, as well 
 as the preceding extracts from the little addresses 
 to his wife, are so accordant with the tenour of 
 his memoirs, that I can not doubt but that, if he 
 were living, he would give leave for their inser- 
 tion. Indeed, I think it is not improbable that 
 some of the memorandums were designed as hints 
 or materials for a continuation of the memoirs ; 
 
167 
 
 the original notices with which he furnished me, 
 being written in a similar manner. 
 
 " It may be truly asserted, that a tenth part 
 of the solicitude which we have, to secure a pre- 
 carious happiness, for a few years upon earth, 
 would secure a perfect felicity, for endless ages, 
 in heaven. How greatly will this consideration 
 increase our anguish at last, if we should neglect 
 in time, to procure, at so easy a sacrifice, the 
 blessedness of a future state ! The summer of 
 1811." 
 
 " Be watchful. Be humble. Be grateful."* 
 
 " It is a comfort to me to feel that the longer 
 I live, the greater is my regard for my friends 
 and acquaintance, and my desire that we may 
 all meet in a better world ; where we shall, if we 
 attain it, be for ever grateful, beyond expression, 
 to our Divine Benefactor." 
 
 " But a little time remains for me, (and how 
 little that may be I know not,) to prepare to 
 meet the God of my life, and to give in to Him 
 an account of my actions." 
 
 " I am this day seventy-two years of age. 
 How many preservations and mercies have I ex- 
 
 * These words were addressed to his wife : but they were 
 also the daily rule of his own life ;, and they form a striking 
 summary of Christian duty. 
 
168 
 
 perienced in this long course of time ! How 
 poorly I have improved the goodness and for- 
 bearance of God to me ! What has been the de- 
 sign of this long continuance of life, and of the 
 blessings with which my cup has run over? 
 Plainly, that I might improve these mercies, by 
 gratitude, love, and obedience, to my great Ben- 
 efactor ; and be prepared to enter into his holy 
 and happy kingdom, there to glorify and serve 
 him for ever. May this be my joyful experience, 
 through the mercy of God, in Jesus Christ, and 
 for his sake ! I know, by long and repeated 
 proofs in myself, and by the testimony of the 
 Holy Scriptures, that of myself I can do nothing 
 to effect my salvation : my powers are all inade- 
 quate to this great end. It is by the Grace of 
 God alone, that the work can be effected. May 
 I ever look to that, and pray for it, and finally 
 experience it to work in me a most comfortable 
 and steadfast hope, that I shall be made one ol 
 those holy and happy beings, who shall glorify, 
 adore, praise, and serve Him, for evermore, with 
 the highest degree of love and gratitude, that 
 their enlarged spirits shall then be made capable 
 of exerting." 
 
 "Preserve me from all vain self complacencies; 
 from seeking the applauses of men ; and from 
 all solicitude about what they may think or say 
 of me. May I be made truly humble, and of a 
 
169 
 
 meek and quiet spirit ! If I have done any good 
 to my fellow-creatures, or, in any degree, pro- 
 moted the will of my heavenly Father, may I 
 unfeignedly give him all the glory; attributing 
 nothing to myself, and taking comfort only from 
 the reflection, that an employment in his service, 
 affords an evidence that his mercy is towards me, 
 that I am not forsaken by Him, and that he is 
 training me for an inhabitant of his blessed king- 
 dom, there to glorify and serve my God and Re- 
 deemer for ever." 
 
 From the conclusion of Mr. Murray's memoirs, 
 till his decease, his life proceeded in a pretty uni- 
 form tenour; little diversified by incident, or by 
 any change of circumstance, except the vicissi- 
 tude from sickness to a state of comparative 
 health. The power of employing his time to 
 good and useful purposes, was, through a pe- 
 culiarly benign providence, continued to the 
 latest period of his life. Religious reading and 
 meditation, which, as he advanced in years, be- 
 came increasingly acceptable to him; the ar- 
 rangement of his secular affairs both with respect 
 to his continuance in, or removal from, this sphere 
 of action ; attention to his literary works ; social 
 intercourse ; acts of beneficence and charity ; 
 were employments which rendered the long 
 evening of his days useful and pleasant. 
 
 24 
 
170 
 
 In the full enjoyment of life, and in the dis- 
 charge of all its varied and important duties, he 
 attained his eighty-first year: which, considering 
 his long confinement, and his general debility, 
 was a remarkable circumstance ; a kind of jubilee 
 in his existence. On his birthday, he appeared 
 so well, and cheerful, and so bright in his mental 
 faculties, that the prospect of losing him seemed 
 as remote as on any similar occasion, during 
 many preceding years. "I am favoured," he 
 piously observed, " with a comfortable state of 
 health, for my time of life ; a state for which I 
 ought, and I desire, to be humbly and deeply 
 thankful to the gracious Giver of all good." 
 But the year which he had so auspiciously begun, 
 he was not allowed to complete. A happier 
 birthday than any which we had anticipated, I, 
 doubt riot, awaited him. 
 
 Persons who were strangers to him, might 
 suppose from his age and long confinement, that, 
 at this period, he must have been fairly worn 
 out, both in body and mind. But this was by 
 no means the case. His health, towards the close 
 of life, seemed rather to improve. In the autumn 
 and winter immediately preceding his decease, 
 he appeared unusually free from indisposition. 
 His sight and hearing were good. With spec- 
 tacles he could read the finest print. His mem- 
 ory, even for recent events, was remarkably 
 
171 
 
 retentive. He appeared as sensible, well-in- 
 formed, and cheerful, as at any former period 
 during my acquaintance with him. His vigour 
 of mind was unimpaired : he was, indeed, in- 
 capable of long-continued attention to any sub- 
 ject; but this seemed rather the effect of bodily 
 than mental decay. His hair had become entirely 
 white : his countenance bespoke age and feeble- 
 ness ; but still retained an expression of mingled 
 intelligence and sweetness. 
 
 In October, 1825, 1 went from home. Having 
 previously informed him of my intention, he ex- 
 pressed, as he had often done before, an earnest 
 desire that I might not be absent at the time of 
 his decease. As his health then seemed better 
 than usual, the expression of this sentiment ap- 
 peared to me less adapted to the occasion, than 
 his sentiments usually were; and tended, unne- 
 cessarily I thought, to cast a gloom and depres- 
 sion over my mind. But the event fully justified 
 him. I had not been returned many weeks, 
 before 1 visited him on his death-bed, and fol- 
 lowed his remains to the grave. That his desire 
 was accomplished ; and that I saw him in his 
 last hours, and received from him some token 
 of kind remembrance and parting friendship; 
 are circumstances which afford my mind inex- 
 pressible satisfaction. 
 
172 
 
 i was at his house, a very short time before his 
 last illness. When I was about taking leave of 
 him, he said to me : " REMEMBER the following 
 lines." He pronounced the word " Remember," 
 and repeated the lines, with an emphasis, which 
 now assumes something of prophetic energy. 
 
 " Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear : 
 A sigh the absent claims ; the dead a tear." 
 
 On the tenth of January, 1826, Mr. Murray 
 being at dinner, was seized with a slight para- 
 lytic affection in his left hand ; it was, however, 
 of short duration, and was attended with no 
 visible ill effect. On Monday morning, the 
 thirteenth of February, he had a return of 
 numbness, in the same hand ; but it soon yielded 
 to friction, and wholly disappeared. Soon after 
 he conversed very cheerfully, and even pleas- 
 antly. During the day, he was a good deal 
 engaged, and much interested, in having the 
 newspaper read to him, containing the debates 
 on the commercial embarrassments of the coun- 
 try. In the afternoon of that day, the last time 
 of his taking a pen in his hand, I received from 
 him a short note, as kind, as usual, and as well 
 written and composed. That the last words 
 which he ever wrote, were addressed to me, is a 
 melancholy recollection ; but it is inexpressibly 
 soothing and consolatory to my mind. 
 
173 
 
 In the evening, he was seized with acute pain 
 in his groin, accompanied with violent sickness. 
 Medical assistance was procured: but the means 
 used to afford relief proved ineffectual. During 
 the night he had an alarming fainting fit, of long 
 continuance. On recovering, he spoke most 
 tenderly to his wife, and urged her to go to bed. 
 
 I saw him on the following morning. He 
 then seemed rather better; but said the pain was 
 not removed. When I was going away, he took 
 leave of me with unusual solemnity, saying, 
 very slowly, and with a most affecting emphasis : 
 " Farewell, rny dear friend !" With some diffi- 
 culty, he extended his hand under the bed 
 clothes, and uncovered it, in order that he might, 
 at parting, shake hands with me. 
 
 In the evening, he was conveyed, in his rolling 
 chair, to a bed prepared for him in his sitting 
 room. Some time after, the aperient medicines 
 took effect ; and this circumstance, together with 
 his disposition to sleep, appeared very favourable, 
 and encouraged a hope of his speedy recovery. 
 But he spent a restless night , and in the morning 
 he was in a state of extreme exhaustion. When 
 his wife went to his bed side, he revived a little ; 
 spoke sweetly to her ; and seeing her soon after- 
 wards, at a little distance in the room, he looked 
 at her very tenderly, and said, " That dear one!" 
 He slumbered most of the morning, except when 
 
174 
 
 roused to take refreshment. I visited him about 
 noon. Seeing me at his b3d side, and probably 
 being unwilling, though in a state of great weak- 
 ness, not to notice me, he looked at me very kind- 
 ly, and repeated my name three times, in a low 
 but affectionate tone of voice; and again stretch- 
 ed forth his hand under the bed clothes, towards 
 me. That hand, which had so kindly welcomed 
 me, when first I entered the room, at the com- 
 mencement of our acquaintance, was now ex- 
 tended towards me for the last time ; not to wel- 
 come, but gently to dismiss me. I heard the 
 sound of his voice no more ; nor did I ever again 
 behold his living countenance. 
 
 In the afternoon, his wife sent me word he 
 was better; and I flattered myself with the hope 
 that he would speedily recover, as I had seen 
 him do on many previous occasions. Great were 
 my surprise and disappointment when I received, 
 on the following morning, the melancholy in- 
 telligence that he was much worse. 1 hastened 
 to his house ; but , before I arrived, " his dear 
 spirit," to use his wife's expression, " had taken 
 its flight." Thus terminated an uninterrupted 
 intercourse of many years' standing, with a most 
 excellent man, and a kind friend. The loss to 
 me is irreparable. In this world of sin and error, 
 a true friend is rarely to be met with : " an old 
 friend," as Dr. Johnson observes, " can never be 
 found." 
 
175 
 
 During his short illness, my much esteemed 
 friend expressed his gratitude for the care that 
 was taken of him, and for all the kind attention 
 which he received. He also adverted to the 
 pleasant conversation which he had, on the 
 morning of his seizure ; and remarked, " What 
 poor, frail creatures we are ; and how little we 
 know what is to happen to us !" 
 
 On Wednesday afternoon he seemed refreshed 
 by sleep; noticed what was passing in the room ; 
 and took sustenance freely. But the night was 
 again restless. His pulse was quick, and his 
 tongue parched. Though he was evidently suf- 
 fering from pain, he made very little complaint : 
 when inquired of, he said the pain was still 
 fixed in the same place. A few times he cried 
 
 out: " Oh my ;" but checked himself before 
 
 the expression was completed. 
 
 In the morning, his servant being at his bed 
 side, and tenderly sympathizing with him, told 
 him she should be very glad, if she could afford 
 him any relief from his suffering. He expressed 
 his sense of her kindness ; but meekly added : 
 " It is MY portion." 
 
 About seven in the morning, a change for the 
 worse evidently took place. Soon after that 
 time, his wife went to his bed side; he noticed 
 her; and spoke to her in the most tenderly, 
 affectionate manner. A deathlike sickness seem- 
 
176 
 
 ed to be coming over him. He cried out : " Oh 
 my groin! What a pain!" Being asked on 
 which side the pain was, he said: " On the right." 
 His wife warmed a cloth, and put it to the part. 
 He turned on his back and lay stretched at 
 his length: his arms were extended, close to 
 his body; the thumb of each hand was gently 
 pressed upon the forefinger, seeming to indicate 
 suppressed agony : and in that attitude he con- 
 tinued during the short remainder of his mor- 
 tal existence. For a few moments, anguish was 
 depicted on his countenance : but it soon gave 
 place to fixed serenity. His eyes were lifted up ; 
 no doubt, in fervent supplication to the God of 
 mercy. His lips moved, though no sound of 
 his voice could be heard. He lay without any 
 perceptible motion, until his eyes gently closed 
 of themselves. About half-past eight in the 
 morning, he expired in peace ; without a strug- 
 gle, or even a sigh or a groan. 
 
 Thus died, on Thursday morning, the six- 
 teenth of February, 1&26, the much loved and 
 much lamented Lindley Murray; in the eighty- 
 first year of his age, and in the full possession of 
 all his mental faculties. His last illness was of 
 short duration, scarcely exceeding two days: but 
 his life, during a long course of years, was a con- 
 stant preparation for the awful change which has 
 now taken place ; so that death could scarcely at 
 
177 
 
 any time have come upon him unawares, or 
 found him in a state, unsuited for removal to a 
 world of glory. 
 
 The immediate cause of his dissolution can 
 not be ascertained ; nor is it material now. His 
 allotted work was finished : his Lord called him 
 home to receive his appointed wages. Nor can 
 it be known, whether at any time of his short 
 illness, he was sensible that the close of his 
 earthly existence was at hand. The alternation 
 of pain and extreme exhaustion in which the 
 last days of his life were spent, allowed him lit- 
 tle opportunity to say any thing, but what was 
 absolutely necessary respecting the illness of his 
 body. In his final hour, if not before, it is prob- 
 able, the solemn truth was conveyed to his 
 mind; and his soul was lifted up in fervent 
 prayer, to the Father of spirits, and the God of 
 mercy and consolation. The thoughts, the feel- 
 ings, of the mind, especially of such a mind as 
 his, when earth and all connected with it, recede 
 from the view, and the eternal world appears, 
 can never be spoken, or fully made known, on 
 this side the grave. 
 
 The peculiarly benign providence which had 
 followed him through life, forsook him not in 
 the end. His removal, though a loss to the 
 world at large, and a subject of much regret 
 to his friends, was, no doubt, a dispensation of 
 25 
 
178 
 
 mercy. He was taken away from the evil to 
 come. He was translated to glory, in the 
 lengthened evening of his day ; but in the midst 
 of usefulness and honour, of comfort and happi- 
 ness. The powers of his mind were not suf- 
 fered to waste away, nor to decline into imbe- 
 cility. The loveliness of his character was not 
 sullied, nor the efficacy of his example impaired, 
 by any infirmity of rnind or of body. His old age, 
 to the very latest period of it, was an object, 
 not of commiseration, but of love, esteem, and 
 reverence. 
 
 His death was easy, both as regards the body 
 and the soul. The bodily suffering which pre- 
 ceded it, though severe, was not protracted; 
 nor did it, at any moment, obscure his under- 
 standing, or disturb the tranquillity of his mind. 
 His passage through the valley of the shadow 
 of death, was short and free from terror. He 
 seemed to have no internal conflict. All within 
 appeared calm and tranquil. Devotedness to 
 God, and love to man, were almost the latest 
 expressions of his departing spirit. 
 
 His peaceful and happy death formed a natural 
 and beautiful close of his holy and virtuous life. 
 In the extremity of nature, the spirit of the Lord 
 sustained him. The arm of the Lord, though 
 invisible, was underneath him. The Lord was 
 round about him, and made all his bed in his 
 
179 
 
 sickness. Like a confiding child, he rested on 
 the bosom of his heavenly Parent. He died in 
 the Lord; he fell asleep in the Lord Jesus. 
 And he verified the Scripture declaration : " Be- 
 hold the upright man; and mark the perfect 
 man: for the end of that man is peace." No 
 doubt, the Lord Jesus, in whom he had trusted, 
 and whom he had served, from his youth, re- 
 ceived his spirit. And he has now, I trust, be- 
 gun that celestial song, and entered upon that 
 elevated sphere of action, of which, while on 
 earth, he had joyful and devout anticipation. 
 
 " The chamber where the good man meets his fate, 
 
 Is privileg'd above the common walk 
 
 Of virtuous life, quite on the verge of heav'n. 
 
 His God supports him in his final hour : 
 
 His final hour brings glory to his God." YOUNG, 
 
 Mr. Murray, in one of his illnesses, expressed 
 an earnest hope that, at the close of life, whenever 
 it might take place, he should be mercifully sup- 
 ported : so that he might not disgrace religion by 
 any unbecoming words or behaviour; but might 
 even, if enabled by divine grace, glorify God in 
 his dying hours, and edify his fellow-creatures. 
 His wish was, in a good degree, accomplished. 
 He glorified God, I doubt not, by the secret as- 
 pirations of his heart; as I am sure he did by his 
 meek, unrepining endurance of pain, and weak- 
 
180 
 
 ness, and his kind, considerate attention to all 
 around him. Ou the minds of the survivers, his 
 affectionate regard for others in the midst of his 
 own sufferings, his quiet resignation, his patient 
 sickness, and his tranquil death, are calculated 
 to produce deep and salutary impressions. 
 
 His death, in some of its circumstances, was 
 awfully affecting : it was, in a manner, sudden ; 
 and it was, to his friends at least, wholly unex- 
 pected. In this respect, also, it is instructive; 
 and, as he wished, edifying to the survivers. It 
 warns them of the uncertainty of life ; it admon- 
 ishes them to prepare, and to live prepared, to 
 meet their Creator and their Judge ; and it urges 
 them, by this most cogent reason, not to delay 
 the preparation, seeing they know neither the 
 day, nor the hour, when they will be summoned 
 to the awful tribunal. 
 
 " Thus runs Death's dread commission; ' Strike, but so 
 
 As most alarms the living by the dead.' 
 
 Is death uncertain ? therefore be thou fix'd ; 
 
 Fix'd as a centinel, all eye, all ear, 
 
 AH expectation of the coming foe. 
 
 Rouse, stand in arms, nor lean against thy spear, 
 
 Lest slumber steal one moment o'er thy soul, 
 
 And fate surprise thee nodding. Watch, be strong : 
 
 Thus give each day the merit and renown, 
 
 Of dying well ; tho' doom'd but once to die. 
 
 Nor let life's period hidden (as from most) 
 
 Hide too from thee the precious use of life." YOUNG. 
 
181 
 
 Though the final summons to the eternal 
 world, vouchsafed to Mr. Murray, was but short, 
 he was, through infinite mercy, ready to depart. 
 All his concerns, respecting both worlds, were 
 settled and arranged. He was at peace with all 
 men. And he had, I doubt not, a comfortable 
 assurance, as in all former illnesses, that his sins 
 were pardoned, and his transgressions blotted 
 out. If this had not been the case, how dread- 
 ful would his condition have been ! From the 
 commencement of his short illness till its close, he 
 was incapable of paying attention to any worldly 
 affairs ; far less to the great work of salvation. 
 The thought of unsettled business, or of unre- 
 pented sins, would, no doubt, in his weak state, 
 have overpowered his reason, or plunged him 
 into the agonies of despair. In this point of view 
 also, his death is edifying ; not only to his sur- 
 viving friends, but to all who may read or hear 
 the account. It is calculated to awaken in their 
 minds, an earnest desire that through faith in 
 Christ, and through divine grace, they may be 
 enabled to live the life of the righteous ; and 
 that when their final summons is sent forth, they 
 may be found, like the excellent Lindley Mur- 
 ray, having finished their allotted work, being at 
 peace with all men, and having a humble trust 
 that the Shepherd of Israel, will, with his rod 
 and staff, conduct them safely through the 
 
182 
 
 valley of the shadow of death, into the land of 
 promise. 
 
 Mr. Murray's will, signed Feb. 1, 1821, was 
 written and composed by himself. It affords a 
 striking proof of the vigour of his mind in ad- 
 vanced age, his accuracy in transacting busi- 
 ness, and his solicitous desire to do as much and 
 as extensive good, both living and dying, as his 
 circumstances would allow. To make a suitable 
 provision for his wife, and to afford her every 
 comfortable accommodation, seems to be the pri- 
 mary object of his testamentary attention. He 
 mentions in his will a large number of relatives 
 and friends ; to each of whom he bequeaths 
 a legacy, either in money, or books, or both : 
 the books are partly to be taken from his own 
 library, and partly to be purchased ; and he 
 has, with particular pains, selected and appor- 
 tioned them in such a manner, as he thought 
 would be most acceptable and useful. To myself 
 he bequeaths, besides some books, his papers and 
 letters respecting his literary concerns. Several 
 poor persons whom he occasionally employed, or 
 assisted by his alms, are also mentioned in his 
 will; to each of whom he bequeaths the sum of 
 two guineas. He leaves the following charitable 
 bequests, payable after the death of his wife : 
 to the British and Foreign Bible Society, two 
 hundred pounds ; to the African Institution, the 
 
183 
 
 same sum ; and to each of the following institu- 
 tions, or societies, at York, twenty-five pounds j 
 the County Hospital, the Dispensary, the Blue 
 Coat School for Boys, the Gray Coat School for 
 Girls, the Charitable Society, the Benevolent So- 
 ciety, and the Lunatic Asylum. After the de- 
 cease of his wife, and the payment of all his 
 bequests, the residue of his property is to be 
 transferred to New York, and vested in trustees 
 there, so as to form a permanent fund ; the 
 yearly income or produce of which is to be ap- 
 propriated in the following manner : " in libera- 
 ting black people who may be held in slavery, 
 assisting them when freed, and giving their de- 
 scendants or the descendants of other black 
 persons, suitable education ; in promoting the 
 civilization and instruction of the Indians of 
 North America; in the purchase and distribu- 
 tion of books tending to promote piety and 
 virtue, and the truth of Christianity, and it is 
 his wish that ' The Power of Religion on the 
 Mind, in Retirement, Affliction, and at the Ap- 
 proach of Death,' with the author's latest correc- 
 tions and improvements, may form a considera- 
 ble part of those books ; and in assisting and 
 relieving the poor of any description, in any 
 manner that may be judged proper, especially 
 those who are sober, industrious, and of good 
 character." 
 
184 
 
 On Wednesday morning, the twenty-second 
 of February, Mr. Murray's remains were inter- 
 red in the burying ground of the Friends, or 
 Quakers, in the city of York ; amidst a large as- 
 semblage of persons, many of whom had come 
 from a considerable distance. From the still- 
 ness which prevailed, one might have thought 
 only few persons were present. All were silent 
 and serious ; many deeply affected. 
 
 No relative was present. His aged and be- 
 reaved widow, though entirely resigned to the 
 Divine will, was, from affliction, indisposition, 
 and long confinement, unable to attend. All his 
 own relations, and those of his wife, were resi- 
 dent in America. The intelligence of his death 
 could not reach them, till long after his remains 
 were consigned to the silent grave. A large 
 number of his friends, acquaintance, and other 
 persons, followed his corpse to the place of in- 
 terment ; and were truly mourners. Few have 
 departed this life more beloved and lamented : 
 the graves of few have been surrounded by so 
 many persons, who, if they had been allowed to 
 speak, could have told of some favour or benefit, 
 some good advice or kind attention, which they 
 had received from the deceased ; or could, in 
 some way or other, either directly or indirectly, 
 have acknowledged him as their friend and ben- 
 efactor. And thousands who were absent, might. 
 
185 
 
 if their voice could have been heard, have join- 
 ed in the acknowledgment. 
 
 His life and death were blessed, and his mem- 
 ory is blessed. He had great talents imparted 
 to him, and high 'success attended him in the 
 employment of them. By his virtues and his 
 kindness, he will long live in the affectionate 
 and grateful remembrance of his friends and ac- 
 quaintance. His literary works and his good 
 deeds are a lasting memorial of him. His name, 
 wherever the English language is spoken, (and 
 soon, where will it not be spoken?) will be 
 known and revered. The little tribute to his 
 memory which I now present to the world, will, 
 I hope, contribute to make him valued and re- 
 membered, not only as Lindley Murray, the 
 Grammarian, as he is usually designated ; but, 
 in a far higher character, as Lindley Murray, 
 the benevolent and pious ; the friend of man, 
 and the faithful, dedicated servant of the Lord 
 God Omnipotent. 
 
 26 
 
186 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CHARACTER OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 THE character of the author is depicted in hig 
 writings, particularly in his Memoirs. And it 
 is deeply engraven on the memories of many, 
 who were personally acquainted with him ; or 
 who have derived benefit from his literary la- 
 bours. But it was so excellent, and in many re- 
 spects, so imitable, that, as editor of his Memoirs, 
 I cannot feel excused from attempting a de- 
 lineation; which I shall intersperse with various 
 illustrative anecdotes. It will thus assume rather 
 an historical form ; but, I trust, it will not, on 
 that account, be the less interesting. 
 
 Mr. Murray seems to have been raised up by 
 Providence, for peculiar purposes to do good in 
 the world, and to exhibit a beautiful specimen 
 of a Christian character. His endowments, both 
 moral and intellectual, were of a superior order. 
 Few men have left behind them a higher char- 
 acter for wisdom, piety, and benevolence. 
 
 Good sense and sound judgment were the 
 predominating qualities of his mind. He took 
 a large, comprehensive, and accurate view of the 
 objects presented to his mental eye ; and he dis- 
 cerned, clearly and readily, which of those ob- 
 
187 
 
 jects were to be preferred and pursued. His 
 apprehension was quick, his memory retentive, 
 and his taste delicate and refined. There did 
 not appear in any of the faculties of his mind, 
 either exuberance or deficiency. Their gener- 
 al harmony, as well as strength, constituted the 
 distinguishing excellence of his intellectual char- 
 acter. 
 
 To the appellation of a man of genius, he has 
 an undoubted claim ; if true genius signifies, ac- 
 cording to the definition of a celebrated author, 
 " a mind of large, general powers, accidentally," 
 or rather providentially, " determined to some 
 particular direction." The strength of his in- 
 tellect, and the habit of close, vigorous appli- 
 cation which he acquired early in life, enabled 
 him, at will, to collect his thoughts, and to fix 
 them wholly, and for a sufficient length of time, 
 on any subject under his consideration. Hence, 
 whatever he did, was well done, and with com. 
 parative ease. And hence too, he would have 
 excelled in every pursuit in which he had en- 
 gaged, or on whatever subject to which he had 
 turned his attention. His grammatical works 
 have obtained so much celebrity, and they ex- 
 hibit so high a degree of excellence, that it might 
 not unreasonably be supposed, grammar was the 
 principal study of his life; but it did not partic- 
 ularly engage his attention, until a short time 
 
188 
 
 previous to the publication of his first work on 
 that subject 
 
 Before he began any literary work, or engaged 
 in any undertaking, he considered what was use- 
 ful, practicable, and excellent. His imagination 
 did not bewilder him with a diversity of plans 
 and views. A few obvious and judicious means 
 of accomplishing the end proposed, immediately 
 presented themselves to his mind. These he 
 considered with attention ; selected from them 
 what he thought best ; and then proceeded to 
 action, without any agitating hope of success, or 
 fear of failure. He pursued a straight forward 
 path ; not unnecessarily retracing his steps, nor 
 wasting his powers in idle wanderings, or useless 
 cogitations. He formed a grand outline of what 
 he proposed, from which he seldom deviated : 
 then he filled up all the parts successively ; over- 
 coming the difficulties as they occurred, and, on 
 no account, suffering them to accumulate. He 
 never undertook any thing to which he was not 
 more than equal ; and he seldom relinquished 
 any thing which he had undertaken. 
 
 He composed, and wrote, with quickness and 
 accuracy. His Grammar, as it appeared in the 
 first edition, was completed in rather less than a 
 year. It was begun in the spring of 1794, and 
 it was published in the spring of 1795 ; though 
 he had an intervening illness, which, for several 
 
189 
 
 weeks, stopped the progress of the work. After- 
 wards, indeed, he bestowed much attention, and 
 a considerable portion of time, in improving and 
 enlarging the work for a second, and many sub- 
 sequent editions. The Exercises and Key were 
 also composed in about a year: and none of his 
 succeeding publications engrossed, in the first 
 instance, a larger portion of time. 
 
 His handwriting was uncommonly and uni- 
 formly neat. " Indeed," as was once justly ob- 
 served of him, " he was neat and accurate in 
 every thing he did." I present my readers with 
 a fac simile of a few lines written by him on his 
 last birthday, June 7, 1825. In 1823, he revised 
 and wrote a fair copy of his Memoirs. This 
 manuscript, from which they are printed, is, as 
 well as his will, a beautiful specimen of neat and 
 correct handwriting, at a very advanced period 
 of life. It is throughout perfectly legible: it 
 has no blots, and but few erasures or interlinea- 
 tions. 
 
 Mr. Murray's sentiments were elevated and 
 refined ; his ideas and opinions just and well 
 founded ; and always expressed in delicate and 
 appropriate language. They often attracted at* 
 tention by their novelty : accompanied with a 
 conviction of their propriety, in the minds of 
 those to whom they were communicated; to- 
 gether with some degree of surprise that they 
 
190 
 
 had not previously occurred, or at least not with 
 so strong an evidence of their justness. Both in 
 writing and speaking, his manner of expression 
 was simple and pleasing, but correct and accu- 
 rate, clear and concise : no one could be at a loss 
 to understand his meaning, or to apprehend its 
 force. He had a happy choice of words, and a 
 clear arrangement of his thoughts ; avoiding all 
 useless repetition, or awkward, unnecessary ex- 
 planation, and all contradiction or inconsistency. 
 The current of his expressions and thoughts was 
 easy and natural, smooth and regular. 
 
 The powers of his mind were improved and 
 enlarged, not only by study, reading, and re- 
 flection, but also by observation, and by exten- 
 sive intercouse with mankind. His early intro- 
 duction to business, and the diversity of employ- 
 ment in which he was subsequently engaged, 
 gave him an insight into human affairs; and 
 contributed, no doubt, very essentially, to im- 
 prove and exercise his judgment, arid to store 
 his memory with various and useful information. 
 His observations on what he saw in the world, 
 and his reflections on what passed in his own 
 mind, gave him an accurate knowledge of hu- 
 man nature. 
 
 In his Memoirs, he seems to undervalue his 
 acquirements, particularly his classical and lite- 
 rary attainments. He had a considerable ac- 
 
191 
 
 quaintance with the Latin and French languages, 
 and some knowledge of Greek. He was an ex- 
 cellent arithmetician and accountant. With gen- 
 eral literature, including history and geography, 
 he was well acquainted. He used to say, though 
 not designing to disparage what is called learn- 
 ing, that if he had been intimately acquainted 
 with ancient languages, he might, perhaps, by 
 introducing much curious and recondite matter, 
 into his grammatical and other works, have ren- 
 dered them less useful and acceptable. The gen- 
 eral scholar, and the man of business, do not re- 
 quire to know the remote etymologies of words, 
 but their present meaning, and their right appli- 
 cation and arrangement. Mr. Murray seemed to 
 have acquired all the general knowledge which 
 is practically useful. But his knowledge, though 
 general, was not superficial. What he knew, he 
 knew well. One of his early instructers said of 
 him : " II veut tout approfondir." And this 
 character he retained to the end of life, with 
 respect to every object which he deemed worthy 
 of his serious attention. Whatever subject of 
 general importance or interest, that occurred? in 
 conversation, or in the business of life, he either 
 possessed all the requisite information, or he 
 could readily obtain it, by a reference to some 
 written authority, or by judicious questions and 
 observations addressed to those with whom he 
 
192 
 
 was conversing. Even in his retirement at Hold- 
 gate, he was much consulted on matters of law 
 and literature, morals and religion, the forming 
 and conducting of public and private institu- 
 tions; and, indeed, on all subjects of importance 
 in themselves, or in the view of those who con- 
 sulted him. The opinion which he gave, was, 
 on most occasions, just ; and satisfactory to those 
 by whom it was requested. 
 
 His disposition was uncommonly active. When 
 he became incapable of bodily exertion, he turn- 
 ed, with alacrity, to pursuits purely intellectual. 
 His friends sometimes expressed their apprehen- 
 sion that his close application to literary employ- 
 ments, might, in his weak state of health, prove 
 injurious to him; he would pleasantly say: "It 
 is better to wear away, than to rust away." 
 
 He had an even flow of spirits, and great cheer- 
 fulness of temper. He seems to have been nat- 
 urally mild, gentle, and compassionate, yet firm, 
 steadfast, and resolute. He possessed to the 
 latest period of his life, lively sensibility, warmth 
 of feeling, and tenderness of affection. 
 
 He exercised great and habitual self control. 
 All his feelings and emotions were, as far as 
 human imperfection will allow, subjugated by 
 reason and religion. He was quick in discerning, 
 and solicitous to check, the risings of evil pas- 
 sions, and to refrain, as far as possi ble, from acting 
 
193 
 
 under their influence. He seldom suffered any 
 circumstance, or event, to ruffle his temper, or 
 disturb his rest. And it may almost be remark- 
 ed of him, as of an eminent statesman, that " he 
 could cast off his cares with his clothes." 
 
 His joys and griefs, his hopes and fears, his 
 purposes and desires, on all occasions on which 
 I ever witnessed them, were tempered, partly by 
 native mildness, and partly by religious con- 
 siderations. The delicacy of taste and feeling, 
 which he cultivated, seemed to have a consider- 
 able effect in inducing a certain nicety and 
 caution, and the avoidance of error and excess, 
 both moral and intellectual. He was free from 
 that vain inflation of mind, and self sufficiency, 
 which too often accompany and disgrace talents; 
 and he was equally removed from despondence, 
 or a groundless distrust of the abilities which he 
 possessed. Of his own character, he formed a 
 just, though humble estimate ; preserving a due 
 medium between pride on the one hand, and 
 degradation on the other. 
 
 He entertained a high sense of moral obliga- 
 tion. His probity was unimpeachable. He 
 neither allowed nor tolerated in himself, a de- 
 parture, in any degree, or on any occasion, from 
 strict integrity. In all his transactions, particu- 
 larly of a pecuniary nature, he was scrupulously 
 
 exact: careful to take no unfair advantage, to 
 
 27 
 
194 
 
 evade no rightful claim, and to omit or delay no 
 just payment, whether with respect to govern- 
 ment or any public body, or to individuals. Both 
 in narration and assertion, he considered it an 
 indispensable duty to adhere inviolably to truth; 
 even on small matters, and on points that are 
 too generally deemed of little moment. He was 
 careful to make no promise or engagement which 
 he could not fulfil ; nor any profession, which he 
 could not justify by his actions, or by the genu- 
 ine feelings of his heart. 
 
 His tender and humble spirit was the proper 
 soil in which religion could take deep root, and 
 flourish. Often did the tear of sensibility glis- 
 ten in his eyes, when he heard, or read, affecting 
 passages from the Scriptures, and other writings; 
 particularly those which, in pointing out the 
 excellent uses of affliction, applied very forcibly 
 to his own state, and to the feelings of his own 
 mind. 
 
 From childhood to the latest period of his 
 life, he was, in a high degree, susceptible of 
 religious impressions. The sun of righteousness 
 appeared in the early morning of his days ; 
 shone, as it advanced, with increasing splendour, 
 and set in brightness : and it has now, I trust, 
 arisen in that morning without clouds, which 
 ushers in a day of never-ending, effulgent glory. 
 
195 
 
 In early life, Mr. Murray was remarkably live- 
 ly. He engaged in many pursuits and amuse- 
 ments, which his improved reason, and sense of 
 religious duty, afterwards condemned. But he 
 was never a slave to amusement ; never allowed 
 himself in any that are absolutely sinful ; and 
 never became corrupt in principle, or negligent 
 of the duties of life. His buoyant spirits, his ar- 
 dent affections, arid his superior intellect, ren- 
 dered his society much courted, and gave a high 
 zest to social enjoyment. His profession of the 
 law, and his widely extended family connexions, 
 naturally led him into company, and not unfre- 
 quently into parties of pleasure. He entered 
 into the gaieties of the passing scene, with more 
 spirit arid animation than most others did, be- 
 cause he brought to them a purer mind, and he 
 considered them only as relaxations from study 
 or business. But so correct was his conduct, that 
 his companions, who were less restrained than 
 himself, used not unfrequently to say : " Mr. 
 Murray, you are a spy upon us !" and they com- 
 mented on his moderation and self control, some- 
 times sarcastically, sometimes with merited 
 commendation. On some occasions, he may have 
 exceeded the bounds of the strictest temperance 
 and self command : yet he was never intoxicated ? 
 and but two or three times in a condition, in any 
 degree, approaching to it. Doubtless, it is to 
 
196 
 
 his circumspection under the trials of youth, that 
 he owed much of the future comfort, happiness, 
 and respectability of his life. Few, I believe, 
 have mixed so much in the gay and busy scenes 
 of the world, and retained a more pure, benevo- 
 lent, and pious spirit, and a more unblemished 
 character. The philosopher who has just notions 
 of the excellence of virtue, will applaud his 
 wisdom, his calm self possession, and his almost 
 complete triumph over the seductions of plea- 
 sure, The Christian will observe in them, as in 
 every appearance of nature, every event in hu- 
 man life, the guiding and protecting hand of a 
 most wise and merciful Providence. 
 
 Mr. Murray often acknowledged preservation 
 from the snares of youth, as one of the greatest 
 blessings of his life. " I stood," said he, " on 
 the brink of a precipice ; and, through Infinite 
 mercy, 1 was preserved from falling into it." 
 On one occasion, having taken an affecting re- 
 view of his early life, he added, with deep 
 humility: "I have abundant cause of thankful- 
 ness to God, that he has preserved me through 
 those dangerous scenes of folly; and has merci- 
 fully enabled me, in some degree, to live to his 
 praise ; and to cherish a hope, that I shall an- 
 swer the great end of my existence, by glorifying 
 and serving him for ever." 
 
 
197 
 
 Mr. Murray regularly attended public wor- 
 ship, as long as his health would permit ; and often 
 even when his weakness, and extreme suscepti- 
 bility of cold, rendered his attendance rather 
 hazardous. His behaviour, on such occasions, 
 was suited to the solemnity of them; and his 
 countenance bespoke at once the calm, collect- 
 ed, and devout frame of his mind. 
 
 He had a great and increasing regard for the 
 sabbath. He was highly sensible of the propri- 
 ety, and even necessity, of a due observance of 
 it: considering it as a day peculiarly set apart 
 for social worship, and private meditation ; a 
 day of rest from worldly business; of suspension, 
 as far as possible, from worldly care; and of 
 preparation, by religious exercises and services, 
 for that happy world, where the redeemed of 
 the Lord celebrate a perpetual sabbath. One 
 small instance of his reverence for the sabbath 
 may not improperly be adduced. He took much 
 pleasure in reading a daily newspaper: but that 
 he might not, on any occasion of peculiar inter- 
 est, be induced to look into it, on the sabbath 
 day, he did not, on that day, receive it into his 
 house ; but read, or heard read, two papers on 
 the following day. In one of his manuscripts, 
 he observes: "The public worship of the Al- 
 mighty is a special duty of all men; resulting 
 from the relation in which we all stand to God, 
 
198 
 
 as our Creator, Preserver, and Benefactor. Com- 
 mon benefits demand common and united thanks- 
 givings and praises. That this great duty ought 
 to be frequently performed, is evident, from 
 the nature of it, and the end which it has in view. 
 If a day of religious rest and social worship, did 
 not often occur, there would be danger, that the 
 sense of gratitude to God, and of entire depend- 
 ance upon him, would languish, if not expire, 
 in the minds of men. That the observance of a 
 weekly sabbath is entitled to distinguished re- 
 gard, and is supported by Divine authority, ap- 
 pears from its being a part of the ten command- 
 ments ; and written, as with the hand of God, on 
 tables of stone, among moral precepts of the 
 highest importance. If an institution of this kind 
 had not been intimately connected with the re- 
 ligious welfare of men, it would not have been 
 classed, in such a manner, with duties of the most 
 interesting nature." 
 
 Mr. Murray had a firm conviction of the Di- 
 vine truth and efficacy of Christianity. This 
 conviction commenced with the early dawn of 
 reason; and continued, through life, with un- 
 shaken and even increasing force. It was so 
 satisfactory to himself, that he was solicitous to 
 impress it on others. But he never made a 
 wordy profession; seeming to bear in mind the 
 Scriptural admonition: " God is in heaven, and 
 
199 
 
 thou upon earth ; therefore, let thy words be 
 few." He never obtruded his sentiments ; nor 
 lessened their force by pressing them on unsuit- 
 able occasions : at the same time he did not 
 shrink from any opportunity of paying homage to 
 Divine truth, or of supporting it to the utmost of 
 his power. He never spoke on religious subjects, 
 for form sake, or as a matter of course : but al- 
 ways with calmness, seriousness, and reverence. 
 Whatever he said, seemed to flow from the feel- 
 ing of his heart, and the conviction of his un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 But religion with him was not confined to a 
 barren assent of the mind, or to occasional feel- 
 ing. He experienced, and, with pious simplicity, 
 evinced, its renewing, purifying, and sanctifying 
 influence. It formed his character ; it regulated 
 his conduct; it cherished and directed his tal- 
 ents ; it enlarged his views and affections ; it ele- 
 vated his thoughts, his hopes, and desires, from 
 earth to heaven. He lived in a confirmed belief 
 of the general and immediate agency of Provi- 
 dence; in a spirit of prayer; and in constant, 
 daily trust in God, and dependance on his care 
 and goodness. 
 
 He regarded the Holy Scriptures with pro- 
 found veneration and love ; as a rule of life 
 and faith, and the record of Divine goodness to 
 fallen, sinful man. He read them ; he meditated 
 
200 
 
 on them; he recommended them to others; 
 he esteemed it a favour to be enabled, in any 
 degree, to promote the knowledge and circulation 
 of them. On sending a Bible to a young friend, 
 he observed : " How great a privilege it is, to 
 be blessed with so clear and important communi- 
 cations of the Divine will ! which at once en- 
 lighten and enlarge the understanding, warm 
 and animate the heart, and continually present 
 to the religious mind, a defence, support, and 
 comfort, under all the trials and vicissitudes of 
 life. It is the secret influence of the Divine 
 Spirit alone, which can effectually bless and 
 sanctify the perusal of these invaluable books ; 
 and make them a feast more truly rational and 
 delightful, than can be afforded by the most 
 finished human compositions, that ever were 
 exhibited." On recommending the Bible Society 
 to an affluent friend ; he said : " Should we not 
 count it a privilege that we can, in any degree^ 
 promote the dear Redeemer's kingdom ?" 
 
 Among men, Mr. Murray knew his compara- 
 tive worth ; he felt and maintained his dignity : 
 but before the Omnipotent he was prostrate in 
 spirit, and deeply humbled; all his honours were 
 laid low ; all his good deeds forgotten ; he im- 
 plored mercy, pardon, and help; he pleaded on]y 
 the merits of the Redeemer. Whilst the world 
 ndmired him, whilst his most intimate friends 
 
201 
 
 and acquaintance revered him, and could scarce- 
 ly find any fault in him ; it appears plainly, from 
 many passages in his memoirs, from the extracts 
 which I have given, in the preceding chapter, 
 from his manuscripts, and from his verbal declar- 
 ations on many occasions, that he deeply mourn- 
 ed his transgressions; he felt and lamented his 
 weakness, his infirmity, and his sinfulness ; he 
 acknowledged that he had no hope of deliver- 
 ance from sin, and of eternal happiness, but 
 through the atonement and intercession of the 
 ever blessed Redeemer. 
 
 Though highly gifted, and eminently success- 
 ful in the exercise of his talents, he never arro- 
 gated any merit to himself; but, in great humili- 
 ty, attributed all the means with which he had 
 been blessed of doing good in the world, to that 
 gracious Power from whom they had been deriv- 
 ed. The following sentiment, though expressed 
 by him on a particular occasion, was, I believe, 
 habitual, whenever he contemplated any good, 
 which he had been the instrument in the hands 
 of Providence of accomplishing : " I feel hum- 
 bled in spirit ; and I adore the condescension of 
 that Great Being, who deigns to employ so fee- 
 ble and undeserving a creature in the advance- 
 ment of his work." 
 
 The chastened feeling with which he con- 
 templated the great success of his literary pro- 
 28 
 
202 
 
 ductions,and the reputation which they procured 
 for him, is strikingly displayed in the meditation, 
 or prayer, inserted in the preceding chapter. 
 He was, certainly, much gratified at the distin- 
 guished approbation which his works received, 
 and at their uncommon sale. But the pleasure 
 which he felt, was, I believe, unconnected with 
 the gratification of pride or vanity. It seemed 
 only to animate him to fresh exertions; and to ex- 
 cite renewed gratitude to the Giver of all good, 
 and the Disposer of all events. "I hope," said he, 
 " that the praises, both public and private, which 
 I have received, have not, in any degree, puffed 
 me up with pride ; or made me contemptuous 
 in my treatment, or opinion, of others, more 
 worthy, but less distinguished, than myself." 
 
 On an other occasion, having mentioned the 
 extensive sale, and high reputation of his works, 
 he added : " 1 hope that this flattering success 
 has no improper effect upon me. I am sure that 
 my manifold imperfections are sufficient to check 
 elation of mind, and make me humble. I do, 
 indeed, feel grateful to the Author of all good, 
 that, under my long-continued bodily infirmities, 
 I am not yet a useless being in the world." 
 
 During the course of a severe though short 
 illness, which brought the prospect of death very 
 near to him, he said to me : " It is a pleasing, 
 though affecting consideration, that when 1 am 
 
203 
 
 mouldering in the dust, thousands will probably 
 be perusing my books; and, I hope, deriving 
 from them moral and religious instruction, and 
 treasuring up in their minds sentiments that will 
 influence their future conduct." On the same 
 occasion, he said : " I own I have been pleased, 
 but, I trust, not improperly, with the general 
 approbation and acceptance which my literary 
 labours have received. But if I know my own 
 heart, my satisfaction arises from the belief that 
 my works are useful; and that the wide circu- 
 lation of them will tend to the promotion of vir- 
 tue and piety. Whatever literary reputation I 
 may possess, is certainly derived from my gram- 
 matical works: but the chief, if not the only, 
 satisfaction, which I now feel, or which I ever 
 have felt in the hour of serious reflection, from 
 the publication of them, arises from the con- 
 sideration, that the elements of our language 
 may now be acquired, not only without injury 
 to morals, but they are made the means of in- 
 fusing into the young mind, sentiments of the 
 best and noblest kind. Had I only taught how 
 to put words together, I could not, at this awful 
 hour, have reflected on my literary, labours with 
 that satisfaction which I now feel. I do riot 
 mention these things, or consider them, as merits, 
 in the eyes of my great Creator and Judge. If 
 they were weighed in the balance with my mani- 
 
204 
 
 fold transgressions, they would be found light 
 indeed." 
 
 Mr. Murray's resignation, under suffering and 
 privation, and under all the trials of life, were 
 remarkable. He seemed to have no repining or 
 vexatious thoughts that he deserved better of 
 the Supreme Ruler than he received ; nor was 
 he grieved when he saw others possessed of 
 advantages, which were withheld from him. His 
 amiable disposition, as well as his sense of re- 
 ligious duty, induced him, at all times, to make 
 the best of his condition, and to look at the bright 
 side of surrounding objects. Both in his letters 
 and in his conversation, he often expressed him- 
 self to the following purport: " I am persuaded 
 that Infinite Goodness knows what is best for 
 me ; and has assigned me my proper allotment. 
 In his merciful appointment I acquiesce. To 
 his will I desire humbly and cheerfully to resign 
 myself and all my concerns. It is a blessing that 
 I am preserved from repining at my condition. 
 I have, indeed, no cause for murmuring; but 
 much for humiliation and unceasing thankful- 
 ness." All the ills that befel him, he received, 
 with gentleness and submission, as trials or chas- 
 tisements ; and often mentioned them as bless- 
 ings in disguise. 
 
 He bore all his afflictions with the most ex- 
 emplary patience ; particularly many very severe 
 
205 
 
 illnesses, and, during a long course of years, al- 
 most continued weakness and langour. But even 
 in this respect he fell short of apprehended duty; 
 and he used not unfrequently to lament that he 
 could not attain greater devotedness to the Di- 
 vine will, and bear bodily pain and suffering with 
 more composure of mind. In a very violent ill- 
 ness which he had in America, (a constipation of 
 the bowels,) feeling excruciating pain, he held 
 forth his hand, and gently snapped his fingers, 
 in a manner and with an expression of counte- 
 nance, which indicated, that his sufferings were 
 almost beyond his power of endurance; but he 
 uttered not a word. Debility and confinement 
 must have been, in the commencement at least, 
 a sore trial and grievous affliction, to a person 
 distinguished as Mr. Murray had been by health, 
 strength, and agility. Never, I believe, did a 
 murmur or complaint, on this or any other ac- 
 count, issue from his lips, or arise in his heart. 
 
 I do not think that any of his afflictions, 
 even when they pressed hard upon him, dimin- 
 ished, in the slightest degree, his love and re- 
 verence for the Supreme Being. Gratitude 
 seemed to be the predominant and warmest af- 
 fection, which he felt for the Almighty ; praise 
 and thanksgiving his favourite theme. He was 
 grateful for every thing ; for his afflictions, be- 
 cause they brought him nearer to God and heav- 
 
206 
 
 en ; and for his blessings, because they were an 
 earnest of Divine favour and goodness. He often 
 expressed a fervent desire that all his trials 
 and afflictions might be sanctified to him; and 
 all his blessings carefully numbered, and grate- 
 fully acknowledged. But though so resigned to 
 whatever befel him of an afflictive nature, and 
 so patient and contented under it, few persons 
 enjoyed the blessings of life more feelingly than 
 he did ; few were more grateful to the Supreme 
 Dispenser of good. All his enjoyments were 
 heightened by reflection, and by a tender sense 
 of obligation to his heavenly Benefactor. 
 
 Both in sickness and in health, he often spoke 
 of his own death, in terms at once calm, serious, 
 and affecting; but never, in the slightest degree, 
 indicating any unmanly or unchristian fear. His 
 affectionate disposition, his lively sensibility, and 
 the many blessings which he enjoyed, rendered 
 life very pleasant to him ; he valued it highly ; 
 he was grateful for it; and he took all judi- 
 cious means to preserve and prolong it : but dur- 
 ing all the years in which I was acquainted with 
 him, and I believe, long before, he seemed ready, 
 at any moment, to resign it into the hands of the 
 great Bestower, in hopes of a better life, and a 
 more glorious inheritance. 
 
 Once, when recovering from an alarming ill- 
 ness, he said : My life, upon the whole, has 
 
207 
 
 been a comfortable one ; and marked by many 
 blessings. I have bad my afflictions ; but these 
 have doubtless been intended for my good. I 
 have felt them to be so : and some of them, I 
 hope, I have properly improved." On the same 
 occasion, he said : " I have had an admonition ; 
 a very gentle one. I trust I shall not soon forget 
 it I wish to be prepared for death ; and to be 
 more and more weaned from life, and all its en- 
 joyments." 
 
 He had near and affecting views of a future 
 state of blessedness; and often discoursed on the 
 subject with animation. He believed that the 
 happiness of heaven consists in the enlargement 
 of the faculties of the mind, and the complete 
 purification of the heart ; in the adoration of the 
 Supreme Being, with a clear understanding of 
 his wonderful wisdom and goodness ; in com- 
 munion with the spirits of just men made per- 
 fect ; in administering, in some way or other, 
 to the happiness of God's creatures; and in ex- 
 tending the boundaries of his most righteous, 
 holy, and wise government. He believed, in 
 common with most pious persons, that in a 
 state of blessedness, the soul retains a general 
 consciousness of its previous existence on earth ; 
 and also renews virtuous affections and friend- 
 ships, but only in such a way as is freed from 
 
208 
 
 every thing painful, debasing, or inconsistent 
 with perfect bliss and purity. 
 
 Being congratulated on one of his birthdays, 
 he replied : " Many returns of this anniversary, I 
 can not have : but I have a humble trust, that, 
 through the mercy of God in Jesus Christ, I 
 shall be made one of those happy beings, who 
 are employed in his service in the realms of 
 light and joy; and who perform that service 
 with the utmost alacrity ; feeling it to be their 
 highest honour and privilege, to do the will, and 
 promote the cause, of their most gracious Lord 
 and Father." 
 
 In the last of his little anniversary addresses 
 to his wife, written in his eighty -first year, he 
 says : " For the mercies of preservation, and the 
 continuance of the many blessings we have had 
 together, we have abundant cause to be thankful 
 to our heavenly Protector and Father. May 
 He be pleased to prepare us for his holy and 
 happy kingdom ; where we shall then have to 
 rejoice for ever, in rendering continual thanks- 
 givings and praises, and the most devout and 
 zealous services, to our heavenly Father, Re- 
 deemer, and Sanctifier, one God, blessed for 
 ever !" 
 
 In one of his manuscripts, he observes : " If 
 it would be a circumstance of satisfaction, that 
 the redeemed shall be with the patriarchs whom 
 
209 
 
 they never knew ; may we not believe that it 
 will also be peculiarly rejoicing to meet those 
 whom they did know and love ? 
 
 No doubt there will be many new and great 
 sources of joy, to those who are admitted into 
 the realms of bliss : but may we not reasonably 
 believe that one of those sources will be the re- 
 union of those who loved one an other here, and 
 promoted each other's best interests on earth? 
 Could they know one an other in a happy state, 
 and remember the spiritual strength and comfort, 
 given and received in the days of trial and trou- 
 ble below, without partaking of a pure and 
 lively joy in the eternal deliverance and happi- 
 ness of one an other ?" 
 
 Mr. Murray was a member of the society of 
 Quakers, or Friends : by whom he was much re- 
 spected and esteemed, and justly considered as 
 one of their brightest ornaments. From his 
 earliest years, he was educated in the principles 
 of that society, to which he uniformly adhered. 
 In his conduct and conversation, except in some 
 instances in early life, he conformed to all the 
 peculiarities of the sect ; but always with his 
 accustomed delicacy, and regard to the feelings 
 of others. Though attached to his own sect, he 
 had a great respect for truly religious persons of 
 every denomination : he considered them, and 
 29 
 

 often spoke of them, as members of one church, 
 children of one holy and blessed family, and 
 fellow-travellers to a heavenly country. Some 
 of his nearest relations, and many of his friends, 
 were not Quakers ; this circumstance probably 
 tended in no small degree, to preserve him from 
 a spirit of bigotry. But his enlarged views both 
 of divine and human nature, were sufficient, 
 independently of any other consideration, to 
 guard him from the extravagant opinion, which 
 lurks in the minds of some, even pious persons, 
 that to their own sect or party, to those who 
 adopt the same expressions, or join in the same 
 forms of worship with themselves, belong ex- 
 clusively all virtue, piety, and acceptance with 
 God. " Various," Mr. Murray observed, " are 
 the shades and degrees of our understandings 
 and natural dispositions : but if the holy princi- 
 ple is suffered to rule, it will make them all 
 acceptable to HIM who framed them, though it 
 may not model them to any standard of uni- 
 formity. We are long in learning to judge 
 wisely of one an other ; and to make charitable 
 allowances for difference of understanding, dis- 
 position, education, &c. Mankind are all breth- 
 ren, the children of one Father : they should, 
 therefore, when we believe them sincere and 
 upright, be received as fellow-partakers of the 
 same privileges." 
 
211 
 
 On an other occasion, he observed : " I respect 
 piety and virtue wherever I meet them. It 
 would be a proof of my own superficiality or 
 depravity, if I valued a truly religious man the 
 less for the name and profession which he sus- 
 tains. I trust that I shall ever be influenced by 
 the cheering sentiment, that every man who sin- 
 cerely loves God and works righteousness, is ac- 
 cepted by him, and is entitled to universal esteem 
 and regard." 
 
 In all the varied relations of life, Mr. Murray's 
 conduct was excellent. He was attentive to 
 every dictate of affection, and every requirement 
 of duty. He understood well the nature and ex- 
 tent of all his relative duties; he had reflected 
 much upon them ; and he seemed to take pleas- 
 ure in performing them. He possessed, in an 
 uncommon degree, the respect and affection of 
 all with whom he was intimately connected. 
 Few persons ever left their native land, more 
 beloved and regretted by numerous relations 
 and friends, or took with them more blessings 
 and good wishes. During the whole time of 
 his residence in this country, though long and 
 far separated from his relatives, he preserved a 
 most affectionate remembrance of them ; he ren- 
 dered them all the varied services and assistance 
 which circumstances would allow; and he kept 
 up with them a regular and frequent correspond* 
 
212 
 
 ence. He said, no time, nor distance, weak- 
 ened his attachment for them. 
 
 To his parents, particularly to his mother, he 
 was very affectionate. And he was also highly 
 obedient and respectful; except perhaps in a fevr 
 instances, in which the vivacity of his temper, 
 and the peculiarity of his circumstances, may 
 have betrayed him into some violation of filial 
 duty. To his brother and sisters he was uni- 
 formly kind and attentive. 
 
 As a husband, he was tenderly affectionate, 
 and indulgent. He was the revered guide, and 
 beloved friend of his wife ; her constant moni- 
 tor ; her counsellor in difficulty ; her comforter 
 in affliction. She often said : " I believe it is 
 not possible for any woman to have a kinder or 
 more affectionate husband than I have. I hope 
 there are many husbands as good as he is : but 
 I can not conceive, or allow, that any can be 
 better." They lived together, upwards of fifty- 
 eight years, in uninterrupted harmony. They 
 had no children : but neither this circumstance, 
 nor any other, diminished their mutual affection, 
 or their happiness. During the first years of 
 their union, Mr. Murray rather wished for chil- 
 dren: but he was perfectly satisfied with the 
 allotment of Providence, in this, as well as in 
 every other respect. He used to say pleasantly 
 that his books were his children ; that, he hoped, 
 
213 
 
 (hey were well settled and doing good in the 
 world ; and that they had occasioned him less 
 trouble and anxiety than most children give to 
 their parents. 
 
 He was a humane and kind master. He did 
 not dispense with the performance of necessary 
 or proper duty; but he exercised authority 
 with moderation, forbearing threatening, and all 
 rude or harsh expressions. He never grudged 
 his servants the well earned reward of their 
 services, or any suitable indulgence; and was 
 always desirous that they should have full time 
 arid opportunity, not only to attend public wor- 
 ship, but to all their secular and spiritual con- 
 cerns. He never required, or looked for, more 
 diligence from them, than could reasonably be 
 expected ; and in all their faults and failures, 
 he made due allowance for them, as beings par- 
 taking of the same frail nature as himself, but 
 exposed to peculiar temptations and disadvan- 
 tages. He frequently gave them advice, and 
 moral or religious instruction, adapted to their 
 particular characters and tempers. When they 
 had left his service he did not forget or forsake 
 them; he continued to bestow upon them such 
 marks of attention, or of pecuniary assistance, 
 as their respective circumstances required. One 
 of his servants, who had lived in his family eight 
 years, being questioned as to her future pros. 
 
214 
 
 pects in life, said : " I never expect to find a bet- 
 ter place, nor a better master and mistress." 
 The servant who lived with him at the time of 
 his decease, said : " I believe no person's ser- 
 vants are more comfortably accommodated, in 
 health, or more tenderly cared for, in sickness, 
 than I am." After Mr. Murray gave up his car- 
 riage, which, from his own confinement and that 
 of his wife, had become useless, he kept only one 
 regular, stated servant. His family, for some 
 years previous to his decease, consisted, besides 
 himself and his wife, of one servant, and a fe- 
 male friend, who lived with them as a compan- 
 ion ; and who was much employed in reading to 
 them, and in assisting Mrs. Murray in her house- 
 hold concerns. Both these persons, at the time 
 of his decease, had resided in his family nearly 
 twelve years. He has left them, by his will, a 
 handsome acknowledgment of their services, 
 and of his regard. They respected him during 
 his lifetime, and lamented him, after his death, 
 as a father and a friend. 
 
 The praise of conscientious servants and in- 
 mates, may justly be considered as the highest 
 panegyric that private virtue can receive. That 
 praise Mr. Murray obtained in a high degree; 
 for, I believe, no servant ever lived with him, 
 and no person ever resided in his house, either as 
 an inmate, or an occasional guest, who did not 
 
215 
 
 highly respect him, and speak of him in terms 
 of the warmest commendation. 
 
 He was a kind and sincere friend. He highly 
 esteemed his friends ; he took pleasure in their 
 company; but so just was the estimate which 
 he formed of human life and character, that he 
 entertained no unreasonable expectations from 
 them. With great delicacy and judgment, he 
 performed towards them the best offices of 
 friendship. He admonished and advised them; 
 he assisted them in their difficulties; he con- 
 soled them in their afflictions; and, which is 
 perhaps the severest test of friendship, he bore 
 patiently with their weaknesses and foibles, 
 though perfectly sensible of them, and he usually 
 concealed from others the faults he saw. Few 
 men, none certainly in so retired a situation, 
 ever had so many friends, or was so much be- 
 loved by them. He engaged their warmest at- 
 tachment, and excited in their minds a peculiar- 
 ity and intenseness of interest. " We felt for 
 him," said one of his friends, after his decease, 
 " as we did for no one else." " In other persons, 
 however estimable," said an other of his friends, 
 " we can observe errors, defects, inconsisten- 
 cies : in him, we could discern nothing but what 
 was amiable, just, and proper." 
 
 Enemies, personal enemies, I believe he had 
 none. Competitors in his literary career, he cer- 
 
216 
 
 tainly had : but he practised great forbearance 
 towards them: and always spoke of them with 
 respect and moderation. One of the first of his 
 manuscripts which caught my attention after his 
 decease, contains the following candid abserva- 
 tions: " I not only feel myself very much obliged 
 to my friends for their kind and judicious pri- 
 vate remarks on my grammatical works ; but 1 
 owe something to the public criticisms of several 
 persons who are not very friendly to these pub- 
 lications. Their strictures have enabled me 
 sometimes to correct a real error, and often to 
 remove doubt, and prevent misapprehension." 
 
 Mr. Murray was a most pleasing, as well as 
 instructive companion. His voice, though not 
 strong, was clear; and his enunciation remarkably 
 distinct and correct. So great was the versatility 
 of his parts, that he could with ease, enter into 
 all sorts of conversation of a general and useful 
 nature. His discourse was attractive and inter- 
 esting even to children and ignorant persons. 
 With wonderful dexterity and condescension, he 
 drew forth from the rich stores of his reading 
 and experience, facts, anecdotes, and oberva- 
 tions, tending to recommend some moral precept, 
 or to impress some useful information. When he 
 had young visiters, he not unfrequently intro- 
 duced some book or paper, which he requested 
 them to read aloud: thus diversifying their en- 
 
217 
 
 tertainment, enlarging their ideas, and suggest- 
 ing to them new subjects of useful and interest- 
 ing conversation. 
 
 In general discourse he did not talk much, nor 
 long together, except on business or occasions 
 which rendered it necessary; indeed, he was 
 usually prevented by the weakness of his voice. 
 He seldom said more than the subject required ; 
 nor, apparently, more than he intended. He 
 never seemed to talk for the sake of self display, 
 or self gratification. To please or edify those 
 with whom he conversed, or to obtain from them 
 such useful information as they were capable of 
 affording, were his favourite objects. 
 
 Subjects of importance were most congenial 
 to his mind. These he frequently introduced; 
 and he seldom failed to represent them in a new 
 and striking point of view, indicating the strength 
 and originality of his mind. He was unassuming 
 in opinion; he never contended eagerly about 
 trifles : but, at the same time, he renounced no 
 important truth, or just principle. The general 
 tenour of his conversation may not unaptly be 
 described in the following lines of the poet : 
 
 " Still turn'd to moral virtue was his speech ; 
 And gladly would he learn, and meekly teach." 
 
 He seemed to hold in his hand the master 
 
 key of the heart and understanding of those 
 
 30 
 
218 
 
 with whom he conversed, or with whom he had 
 to do; and he could, at will, draw forth such 
 tones, grave or gay, soft or strong, as suited the 
 present occasion : but he used this power only 
 for good and legitimate purposes; to allay anger, 
 to sooth discontent, to inspire good resolutions, 
 to prompt judicious decisions. With peculiar 
 aptitude, he discovered, and called forth, the 
 best qualities, the best thoughts and feelings, of 
 those with whom he conversed; these he partic- 
 ularly addressed and cherished : so that in his 
 presence, I have often seen the thoughtless be- 
 come grave; the profligate, serious; the dull, 
 animate; the timid, free; and the reserved, 
 communicative. 
 
 He had a happy art of conveying instruc- 
 tion, reproof, or advice* Instruction he gave 
 with precision, unincumbered with any extra- 
 neous matter; reproof he administered with 
 tenderness; advice, with persuasive gentleness. 
 No one, on consulting him, or receiving infor- 
 mation from him, could feel humbled, or self 
 abased. He never exulted in the superiority 
 of his knowledge or wisdom. He was slow to 
 contradict, and still slower to blame. He listened 
 patiently; and he did not attempt to answer, or to 
 give an opinion, till he understood the matter. 
 He never exclaimed at the folly, ignorance, or 
 perversity, of those who consulted him, however 
 
219 
 
 inwardly convinced of it. He quietly ascer- 
 tained the extent of their capacity : he observed 
 where their difficulty, or misapprehension lay ; 
 and what obstacles pride, passion, or prejudice, 
 placed in the way of truth. By argument 
 clearly and forcibly expressed, by gentle persua- 
 sion, or by innocent pleasantry, he seldom failed 
 to win them over to a right decision, or proper 
 feeling. 
 
 His letters, like his conversation, seemed dic- 
 tated by a spirit of wisdom and of kindness. On 
 .subjects of business, they were clear, explicit, 
 and concise ; on matters in which self was con- 
 cerned, delicate and cautious : on occasions of 
 giving advice or admonition, (which sometimes 
 occurred even with regard to strangers,) full of 
 candour and tenderness, yet firm and decisive. 
 Sentiments of piety were so deeply impressed on 
 his own mind, that he could not fail to endeavour, 
 by letter as well as in words, to communicate the 
 impression to others. His letters, even on mere 
 business, frequently contained some sentiment, 
 or expression, calling to the mind of the persons 
 addressed, the concerns of an other and a better 
 world. His correspondence was voluminous; 
 and the number of persons to whom he wrote, 
 very great. His separation from his relations, 
 and his literary concerns, independently of 
 other circumstances, naturally gave occasion to 
 
220 
 
 much writing. Debarred by his ill health, and 
 frequently by the weakness of his voice, from 
 many opportunities of personal intercourse, he 
 often expressed in writing the sentiments which 
 he would otherwise have spoken; and with as 
 much freedom and ease as most people could 
 converse. His celebrity as an author, and as a 
 man of benevolence, induced many persons, 
 even strangers, to write to him, soliciting advice, 
 or pecuniary assistance : to all these letters he 
 seldom failed to return prompt and kind answers. 
 His letters of consolation and congratulation, in 
 particular, were numerous : for so lively was the 
 interest which he took in the affairs of those 
 persons, with whom he was connected or ac- 
 quainted, that occasions of sorrow or joy seldom 
 occurred to them, or in their families which did 
 not call forth from him an expression of tender 
 and pious sympathy. His letters were not de- 
 signed, nor, as he observed, calculated for the 
 public, but exclusively for the persons to whom 
 they were addressed: he has, therefore, as I have 
 mentioned in the preface, left in writing a re- 
 quest that they may not be published. To all 
 bis correspondents, whose feeling and delicacy 
 are, in any degree, congenial to his own, they 
 will, from that very circumstance, become the 
 more deeply interesting, and the more valuable, 
 not, indeed, in a pecuniary point of view, but 
 
221 
 
 intrinsically ; and they will, I doubt not, be pre- 
 served with reverential care, as precious relics 
 of a departed friend arid monitor. 
 
 As a neighbour, Mr. Murray was highly res- 
 pected, and truly exemplary. He was solicitous 
 to avoid either giving or taking offence ; loath 
 to believe, and still more loath to propagate, any 
 idle tales, or rumours, or to make any censorious 
 remarks; ready to unite, as far as his situation 
 would allow, in every useful plan for general 
 accommodation, or advantage ;* unwilling to 
 interfere in other people's affairs, or to offer his 
 advice, unless he thought it would be acceptable 
 or beneficial ; and very humane and liberal to 
 the poor, particularly in time of sickness. Dur- 
 ing the greater part of his abode in England, he 
 was not able to associate much with his neigh- 
 
 * Amongst numerous instances of this kind, the following, 
 though comparatively small, is characteristic, and therefore, 
 not unworthy of notice. Unable to walk himself, he conlrib* 
 uted largely towards forming and keeping up a walk, by the 
 side of the road, leading from Holdgate and other places, to the 
 city of York. A seat, on which to rest the weary traveller, 
 was put up, by the side of this walk, entirely at Mr. Murray's 
 own expense : which, it is to be hoped, will not be injured or 
 demolished by rude, rapacious hands ; but will henceforth be 
 called Murray's seat, and preserved as a humble memorial of 
 a great and good man, who lived near the spot where it is 
 placed, and who, by his long residence, has given celebrity to 
 the little village of Holdgate, and its environs. 
 
222 
 
 bours : but scarcely any one ever resided in his 
 immediate vicinity, who did not, in some way or 
 other, receive from him, some kind, delicate 
 attention, or some essential service. Both himself 
 and his wife seemed not only to embrace, but to 
 contrive, opportunities of serving and obliging. 
 
 Mr. Murray preserved an habitual tenderness 
 of mind. With him a spirit of kindness seemed 
 in constant operation. He loved to be at peace 
 with all persons, especially those with whom he 
 was most conversant. He seemed grieved when- 
 ever he perceived, that, through inadvertence, 
 or any unavoidable circumstance, he had given 
 pain, or the slightest cause of offence to any one; 
 and always wished for, and gladly embraced, an 
 early opportunity of endeavouring to remove 
 the impression. 
 
 On all occasions of provocation occurring to 
 himself, particularly when he received any mark 
 of inattention, unkindness, or even ingratitude, 
 from those to whom he was attached, or whom 
 he had served, he evidently felt keenly ; but he 
 never expressed any sentiment, or uttered any 
 expression, unbecoming a Christian. His emo- 
 tion soon subsided ; and his resentment passed 
 away, quick as a transient cloud on a fine sum- 
 mer's day. Not only the sun never went down 
 on his anger; but even the next hour scarcely 
 saw any traces of it. On manyoccasions, he has 
 
223 
 
 been known, to take the earliest opportunity of 
 renewing his civility, to those persons by whom 
 his feelings had been thus tried, or of conferring 
 fresh favours upon them: thus, not encouraging 
 evil, but endeavouring, according to the Scrip- 
 ture maxim, to overcome evil with good. 
 
 He was full of candour, and Christian charity. 
 Though far removed from that easy credulity 
 which is imposed on by every specious pretence, 
 or artful profession, he certainly appeared quick- 
 er in discerning good than evil, in human charac- 
 ter and conduct : or, at least, he pointed it out, 
 and commented upon it, with greater alacrity. 
 The good was pleasant to him, and congenial to 
 his feelings. The ill he passed by as lightly as 
 circumstances would allow. He condemned 
 with regret; and readily admitted every ex- 
 tenuation. 
 
 He was pleased with little services and atten- 
 tions, and grateful for them. He was ready to 
 oblige, and willing to be obliged. To confer 
 favours was pleasant to him ; and he could not 
 therefore, refuse to others, in their turn, the 
 gratification which he so often felt. A gift, or 
 mark of attention, however small, however 
 awkwardly presented, when offered by those 
 whom he had obliged, seldom failed to be receiv- 
 ed by him in the most gracioos manner. On 
 such occasions, he would sometimes say : " This 
 
224 
 
 person thinks himself indebted to me ; he wishes 
 to discharge part of the debt, or, at least to make 
 some acknowledgment of it : why should I, by 
 my refusal, or cold acceptance, deny him this 
 gratification ?'* 
 
 In the performance of relative duties, Mr. 
 Murray did not forget humanity to animals ; 
 of which the following is a striking instance, 
 amongst many others that might be given. In 
 early life, he was fond of shooting; but after 
 some years he became dissatisfied with it, from 
 a conviction, not only that it consumes too much 
 precious time, but also that it is improper to take 
 away life for the sake of amusement. He be- 
 lieved that of the birds which are shot at, many 
 more are wounded, than are actually killed and 
 obtained; and, consequently, they gradually pine 
 away, and die through pain, and want of food. 
 He had seen birds so much hurt, as to be inca- 
 pable of performing their natural functions ; and 
 he had reason to believe that instances of this 
 kind are very numerous. These reflections 
 made such an impression on his mind, that he 
 determined never again to indulge himself in a 
 sport, which produced so much distress to the 
 objects of his amusement. 
 
 He was a true patriot. America, his native 
 land, the abode of his relations, and his own, 
 during a great part of his life, was dear to him : 
 
225 
 
 England also was dear to him ; it was his 
 adopted country, and the scene of his greatest 
 usefulness. He rejoiced in the prosperity of 
 both countries ; and particularly wished that 
 peace and amity should prevail between them. 
 He was a friend of liberty, both civil and reli- 
 gious; a warm asserter of the just rights of 
 man, and averse to despotic power, whether 
 lodged in the hands of one, or of many: but, at 
 the same time, he was a friend of order, a strenu- 
 ous supporter of good government, and opposed 
 to all wild theories and useless innovation. The 
 British constitution he much admired: "a fa- 
 bric," as he observes in one of his publications, 
 " which has stood the test of ages, and attracted 
 the admiration of the world. It combines the 
 advantages of the three great forms of govern- 
 ment, without their inconveniences: it preserves 
 a happy balance amongst them : and it contains 
 within itself, the power of recurring to first 
 principles, and of rectifying all the disorders of 
 time." 
 
 Mr. Murray was a philanthropist in the justest 
 and most extensive sense of the word. His be- 
 nevolence was universal, not confined to any 
 nation, sect, or party. It took in the whole 
 human race, of every clime and colour. It knew 
 no limits but the limits of the whole creation. 
 
 It sprung from a principle of duty and of love, to 
 31 
 
226 
 
 God and all his creatures. It did not exhaust 
 itself in mere sentiment or feeling: but diffused 
 its benign influence over his character and con- 
 duct. He promoted, by all the means in his 
 power, the welfare and improvement of mankind. 
 He took a deep interest in the success of various 
 public institutions, designed to serve the cause 
 of religion and humanity, particularly the Bible 
 society and the African institution ; and he con- 
 tributed largely according to his means, though 
 sometimes anonymously, to their support. By 
 his writings, by his life and conversation, by the 
 encouragement which he gave not only to public 
 but to private endeavours, of a benevolent and 
 religious nature, he promoted, in an eminent 
 degree, the general diffusion of the spirit of Chris- 
 tianity. The good seed which was intrusted to 
 his care, he cast upon a wide extent of land : the 
 abundant harvest which it has produced, and 
 which, I trust, it will long continue to produce, 
 will, probably, be fully made known to him in 
 the world to come. 
 
 His acts of private charity were innumerable : 
 indeed, many of them were known only to him- 
 self and his wife, and tq those who were the ob- 
 jects of them. All his favours were rendered 
 doubly acceptable even to the poorest persons, 
 by the civility, kindness, or tenderness, with 
 which they were bestowed. The profit which 
 
227 
 
 he derived from his various publications, was 
 uniformly devoted to benevolent purposes, and 
 afforded him a considerable fund of charity. But 
 long before he received any assistance from this 
 source, he was distinguished by his beneficence : 
 he gave much alms ; he distributed books of pi- 
 ety; and he contributed in various ways, to render 
 more comfortable many persons in straitened cir- 
 cumstances. From the commencement of his re- 
 sidence at Holdgate, till his decease, he paid, an- 
 nually, for the schooling of several poor children 
 in his neighbourhood ; which, before the general 
 establishment of Sunday and other schools, was 
 a peculiarly acceptable and useful charity. 
 
 By his great abilities and application, and his 
 respectable family connexions, he had, through 
 the blessing of Providence, acquired, early in 
 life, a portion of this world's goods amply ade- 
 quate to his own moderate wants and wishes, and 
 those of his wife : the overplus he devoted to the 
 service of God and man. Nay, I think it may 
 be said, he dedicated all he had to the Lord; his 
 fortune, his time, his talents. His house was 
 the seat of simplicity, piety, and benevolence. 
 It was abundantly supplied with every thing 
 necessary for the comfortable accommodation of 
 its inhabitants, and of visiters; but there was 
 nothing for show, or mere ornament, From 
 
228 
 
 taste, as well as principle, Mr. Murray was averse 
 to an ostentatious or luxurious mode of living. 
 
 His income, independently of the profit of his 
 publications, scarcely at any time exceeded five 
 or six hundred pounds a year. With this income, 
 he was hospitable arid generous ; he lived in 
 a plain way indeed, but so respectably, and with 
 so high a character for benevolence, that he was 
 generally esteemed rich. He frequently ac- 
 knowledged as one of the blessings of Provi- 
 dence, that from his first establishment in life, he 
 had always had the means of living with comfort 
 and respectability. 
 
 His external manners were truly pleasing. 
 He was affable and courteous in his address ; 
 mild, yet dignified in his demeanour. His un- 
 affected civility and kindness readily won their 
 way to the heart. Though a valetudinarian 
 during the greater part of his life, his personal 
 habits were those of uncommon delicacy and 
 decorum. 
 
 His appearance was noble and prepossessing. 
 He was tall and well proportioned ; and rather 
 stout. His complexion was dark, and somewhat 
 ruddy : it did not exhibit that sickly appear- 
 ance which might have been expected from his 
 general debility, and long confinement. His 
 forehead was open, expansive, and rather ele- 
 vated. His features were regular. The profile 
 
229 
 
 of his face, if not handsome, was strikingly noble 
 and pleasing. The general impression of his 
 countenance indicated at once the elevation of 
 his mind, and the sweetness of his disposition. 
 When he received and welcomed any stranger, 
 or visiter, for whom he felt particular respect or 
 regard, his countenance beamed with increased 
 dignity and sweetness ; his eyes sparkled with 
 benevolent animation, and a smile played on his 
 lips: his whole appearance and manner, be- 
 spoke instantaneously and powerfully, superior 
 intelligence sweetly tempered by superior good- 
 ness and benignity. The effect produced on the 
 mind of the beholder, though often felt, can 
 scarcely be described : it was a mingled sensa- 
 tion of admiration, love, and reverence. Some 
 have said after their first introduction to him, 
 that his aspect and demeanour, together with the 
 purity and sanctity of his character, recalled to 
 their minds the idea of the apostles and other 
 holy men ; who, in the early ages of Christianity, 
 were, with a large measure of grace, redeemed 
 from the world, and dedicated to the service of 
 God and religion. 
 
230 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 REMARKS ON THE AUTHOR'S VARIOUS PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 BEING well acquainted with the publications 
 of Mr. Murray, and having had peculiar oppor- 
 tunities of knowing their merits, and the views 
 of the author, I presume that a few remarks on 
 them, both general and particular, will not be 
 unacceptable to the reader. They are a tribute 
 which seems due to my departed friend, for his 
 meritorious exertions to advance the interests of 
 religion and literature ; and they may be the 
 means of attracting attention to some excellences 
 of design or execution, which might otherwise 
 have been passed over unobserved, or with less 
 consideration than they deserve. 
 
 It is a striking recommendation of these works, 
 that they have had a considerable influence, in 
 promoting the correct and chaste education of 
 young persons. The strain of piety and virtue, 
 and the elegant taste, which pervade them, have 
 had happy effects, in forming the minds of young 
 persons who have studied them ; and in produ- 
 cing, or expanding, a similar spirit, in the publi- 
 cations since introduced into seminaries. The 
 author was very strongly impressed with the im~ 
 
231 
 
 portance of a guarded education of youth : and 
 he thought that if sound principles of piety and 
 virtue, were constantly presented to them, and 
 happily incorporated with the elements of lite- 
 rature, the effect would be incalculably greater 
 than most persons are apt to imagine. This sen- 
 timent induced him to believe, that he could not 
 better employ his time, or render a greater ser- 
 vice to society, than by composing works of edu- 
 cation, in which learning and knowledge should 
 go hand in hand with moral and religious in- 
 struction. This design he has most successfully 
 accomplished : and the universal approbation 
 which it has obtained, is a very pleasing proof 
 of the importance and usefulness of his writings. 
 He had great satisfaction in reflecting on the 
 moral effects which his works are calculated to 
 produce ; and that none of them contains a senti- 
 ment capable of giving him pain in the retrospect 
 of life. He has, I trust, planted, and he will con- 
 tinue to plant, in the minds of a long succession 
 of young readers and students, principles and 
 virtues, which will support and animate them in 
 every period of this life ; and which may, in- 
 deed, have a great influence on their happiness 
 in an other world. 
 
 Mr. Murray's grammatical works possess dis- 
 tinguished merit, both as to matter and arrange- 
 ment. He has introduced into this branch of 
 
232 
 
 science great simplicity and perspicuity. And 
 since these works have appeared, a subject which 
 was before generally considered as dry and unin- 
 teresting, to young persons especially, has be- 
 come very popular, and is now almost univer- 
 sally studied and relished. To render our native 
 tongue an object of peculiar attention ; to excite 
 a general desire to acquire the knowledge of it ; 
 and to facilitate that acquisition ; reflect not a 
 little credit on the productions of our author. 
 
 It is an additional recommendation of his pub- 
 lications, that they all have the same objects in 
 view, are intimately connected, and naturally in- 
 troduce one an other. The subsequent works 
 generally illustrate and enforce the principles of 
 those which precede. To instil into the youth- 
 ful mind the love of piety and virtue; to infuse 
 into it sentiments of importance on topics of an 
 interesting nature; and to excite a taste for 
 judicious composition, arid a correct and elegant 
 style ; are the objects which are constantly aim- 
 ed at, in all these literary productions. They 
 may, therefore, be properly considered as form- 
 ing a little code of important elementary instruc- 
 tion, adapted to the varied years and capacities 
 of young persons ; and may, with confidence, be 
 put into their hands. 
 
 It may not be improper to observe, that our 
 author has been of considerable use too, in pro- 
 
233 
 
 rooting the printing of works of education, with 
 accuracy and neatness ; on good paper, with a 
 clear type, and in a fair, open manner. All his 
 publications, from the first to the last of them, 
 have appeared in this very proper and attractive 
 form.* He thought it was of no small impor- 
 tance in the business of education ; and his 
 practice, in this respect, has been successfully 
 imitated. 
 
 His publications are entitled to commendatory 
 notice, on account of their negative as well as 
 their positive merit. Indeed, their freedom from 
 every thing objectionable, constitutes one of 
 their most solid recommendations. There is in 
 them no expression or sentiment of an indelicate 
 nature; nothing which tends to vitiate taste, or 
 undermine principle ; nothing that is vulgar or 
 frivolous, eccentric or dubious ; nor is there, on 
 the other hand, any thing too nice, critical, or 
 refined, for general use and acceptance. Mr. 
 
 * It must, in justice, be observed, that the typography of 
 Mr. Murray's works, reflects credit, not only on the author, 
 but on the printers, Messrs. Wilson and Co. of York; who 
 were also publishers, and, in part, proprietors of these works. 
 Their extensive printing establishment, only about a mile dis- 
 tant from the residence of Mr. Murray ; the ability, prompti- 
 tude, and obligingness, with which they promoted his views ; 
 were particularly satisfactory to him, and afforded him great 
 facility and accommodation, in the ordering and managing of 
 his various publications. 
 
 32 
 
234 
 
 Murray aims at nothing which he does not ac- 
 complish ; nor does he aim at any thing, which 
 is not worth accomplishing. His hooks are a 
 considerable and an acknowledged improvement 
 on all existing works of the same nature. He 
 does not pursue ideal or imaginary perfection ; 
 he accommodates his works to the tastes and 
 capacities of young persons, for whom they are 
 chiefly designed, and to the present state of 
 society and literature. 
 
 The Christian Observer, in noticing his octavo 
 Grammar, says : " We are happy to bear testi- 
 mony that none of the sentences and extracts 
 appear to be selected with relation to the pecu- 
 liar creed of the writer." With equal truth it 
 may be said, that our author's other publications 
 are clear of any expressions or sentiments, pecu- 
 liar to the society of which he was a member. 
 He made it a point, whilst he was writing for 
 the benefit of readers in general, to avoid intro- 
 ducing, in any shape, the tenets of a particular 
 sect; or any thing which could be supposed to 
 relate to those tenets. And for this judicious 
 care arid liberality, he has been much and de- 
 servedly commended. At the same time, it 
 must be observed that he avoided introducing 
 any thing inconsistent with, or contrary to, the 
 tenets of the sect to which he belonged; so that, 
 whilst his works have received the approbation 
 
235 
 
 of the public in general, they have been no less 
 highly appreciated by the members of his own 
 society. 
 
 The preceding observations on Mr. Murray's 
 works, are supported and confirmed by the opin- 
 ions of the public critics, and of various other 
 writers. A statement of some of these opinions, 
 may not improperly be adduced on the present 
 occasion. 
 
 The British Critic contains the following re- 
 marks : "Our pages bear ample testimony, both 
 to the ability and diligence of Mr. Murray. 
 His different publications evince much sound 
 judgment and good sense ; and his Selections are 
 very well calculated to answer the intended pur- 
 pose." 
 
 " This author," says the Christian Observer, 
 " deserves much praise and encouragement for 
 the pains he has taken in purifying books of in- 
 struction ; and his English Grammar will estab- 
 lish his character as a writer in this important 
 department of literature." 
 
 The Eclectic Review observes, that "Mr. 
 Murray's exertions are directed to one of the 
 noblest objects. They are judicious, unremitted, 
 and, we rejoice to add, particularly acceptable 
 to the public. His works are distinguished from 
 the mass of school books, by a correct style, a, 
 
236 
 
 refined taste, and especially by a vigilant sub- 
 servience to morality and religion." 
 
 Thu Anti-jacobin Review gives tbe following 
 very ample recommendation : " The principle 
 upon which all the publications of Mr. Murray, 
 for the instruction of the rising generation are 
 founded, is such as gives him an unquestionable 
 claim to public protection. The man who blends 
 religion and morals with the elements of scien- 
 tific knowledge, renders an eminent service to 
 society ; and where ability of execution is added 
 to excellence of design, as in the present case, 
 the claim becomes irresistible." 
 
 In the American Review and Literary Journal 
 is the following eulogium on Mr. Murray's works: 
 " Mr. Murray's Grammar, as well as his other 
 publications, has received the uniform approba- 
 tion of literary characters and journalists. We 
 do not hesitate warmly to recommend them to 
 the instructers of youth in every part of the 
 United States, as eminently conducive to pure 
 morality and religion, and to the acquisition of 
 a correct and elegant style. They deserve to 
 take place of all other works of the same kind." 
 
 Dr. Miller in his " Retrospect of the Eigh- 
 teenth Century," observes that " Mr. Lindley 
 Murray, by his English Grammar, and by several 
 other publications connected with it, and design- 
 ed as auxiliaries to its principal purpose, has be- 
 
237 
 
 come entitled to the gratitude of every friend to 
 English literature, and to true virtue." 
 
 Mr. Walker, author of a judicious and highly 
 approved Pronouncing Dictionary, and of various 
 other works, has, in his " Elements of Elocution," 
 and in his " Outlines of English Grammar," borne 
 a very striking testimony to the merits of our au- 
 thor. "Mr. Murray's Grammar, and Selection 
 of lessons for reading, are the best in the English 
 language."-r-" I need not acquaint the public with 
 the merits and success of Lindley Murray's 
 Grammar; which seems to have superseded ev- 
 ery other. Indeed, when we consider the plain, 
 simple mode of instruction he has adopted ; the 
 extent of observation he has displayed ; and the 
 copious variety of illustration he has added; we 
 shall not wonder that his Grammar has been so 
 universally applauded." 
 
 The letters which Mr. Murray received, at an 
 early period of the publication of his works, 
 from a celebrated writer on education, and on 
 other important subjects, contain the following 
 passages: "You appear to have simplified 
 Grammar beyond any of your precursors. I am 
 also better pleased with your English Reader, 
 than with any compilation I have ever seen. I 
 am happy to see you so carefully guarding the 
 elements of literature, and fencing off the ob- 
 trusion of any immoral author, or corrupt senti- 
 
238 
 
 merit." " We are both, I trust, co-operators in 
 the same great cause, that of impressing young 
 minds with right principles, as well as keeping 
 out of their way, what would serve only to cor- 
 rupt and deprave them. Preoccupying the 
 ground, by safe, early instruction, of various 
 kinds, and supplying, in some measure, their 
 early literary wants, you, I trust, will be enabled 
 so far to form their minds to virtue and religion, 
 that they will reject from taste, as well as avoid 
 from principle, the destructive, and also the vain 
 and idle compositions, to which so much youth- 
 ful time is unthinkingly sacrificed. I never neg- 
 lect an opportunity, when it is fairly offered, of 
 bearing my testimony to your works; and I 
 have never heard them named by any one into 
 whose hands they have fallen, but with respect 
 and approbation. They will, I doubt riot, more 
 and more make their way : and, as they are more 
 known, will be generally adopted." 
 
 An other highly respectable writer on educa- 
 tion, expresses himself in a letter to our author, 
 in the following terms : " You must allow me 
 to observe, that no man who feels as an English- 
 man or a Christian, can contemplate, without the 
 highest satisfaction, the very extensive circula- 
 tion which your works have obtained. It is 
 books of this description, which the last chapter 
 of my Essay was designed to recommend to our 
 
239 
 
 schools : and I still think, that on the use or 
 neglect of them, depend, in no small degree, the 
 principles of the rising generation, and conse- 
 quently our permanence and prosperity as a 
 nation." 
 
 A letter to Mr. Murray from the president of 
 one of the American colleges, contains the follow- 
 ing sentiments : " Your grammatical works have 
 always been esteemed by me, as the most valu- 
 able yet published ; and hence, I have never 
 ceased to recommend the careful study of them 
 to the youth of this college. The advantage 
 which both students and scholars have derived 
 from such a study, has been great. The knowl- 
 edge, and the proper use, of our own language, 
 have become an indispensable acquirement; 
 and with the lights which you have held forth, 
 that valuable acquirement is accessible to every 
 one. Too long had the study of our own lan- 
 guage yielded to that of Latin and Greek, or of 
 some modern language. You have the merit of 
 producing a reform in this respect ; for which 
 every friend of literature owes to you the great- 
 est obligation." 
 
 A distinguished and elegant author, having 
 occasion to write to Mr. Murray, on a subject 
 unconnected with his works, embraced the op- 
 portunity of expressing his opinion respecting 
 them. " I can not," says he, " deny myself the 
 
240 
 
 pleasure of offering you, upon this occasion, my 
 best thanks, as a part of the public, for the many 
 judicious and truly valuable works, with which 
 you have enriched our language. The rising 
 generation, and those who are concerned in their 
 superintendence, are greatly your debtors : and, 
 if to have been made useful, under God, in 
 promoting sound learning, pure religion, and 
 liberal sentiments, be (as it certainly is) a ground 
 of satisfactory reflection, you are entitled to that 
 enjoyment, in no ordinary degree." 
 
 I shall only add an extract from an other letter 
 to Mr. Murray, on the subject of his works. It 
 was written by a respectable and learned clergy- 
 man, with whom he had been acquainted in 
 early life. " After your performances have 
 passed the ordeal of public criticism, and receiv- 
 ed the approbation of all the British and Ameri- 
 can Reviews, it would be presumption in me to 
 give an opinion, or to add my feeble voice to the 
 common plaudit. Indeed, I do not recollect any 
 publications, that have so entirely escaped cen- 
 sure, and so universally obtained commendation. 
 I rejoice much in their extensive circulation, 
 because they will not only improve the rising 
 generation, in the knowledge of grammar, and 
 in correct reading, writing, and composition; 
 but strongly impress on their tender minds the 
 principles of morality and religion, and make 
 
241 
 
 them not only better scholars, but better men. 
 If generally introduced (as they will be) into our 
 public schools and seminaries, they will counter- 
 act the baneful effects of some late licentious 
 productions; and furnish youth with an armour, 
 which will imbolden and enable them to repel, 
 through life, the weapons of vice and infidelity." 
 
 Having made these general observations on 
 the works of Mr. Murray, I proceed to consider 
 their merits individually. 
 
 The first of his publications was, the POWER 
 of RELIGION on the MIND. 
 
 This work, as he often observed, afforded him 
 the most heartfelt satisfaction. Though it has 
 not procured him the most literary reputation, 
 it was his favourite performance. It was viewed 
 by him in this light, because he conceived that it 
 was more immediately adapted than any of his 
 other works, to lead the readers to a virtuous 
 and happy life, and to excite in them an ardent 
 desire, and earnest preparation, for that state of 
 eternal felicity which is the great end of their 
 being. On his own mind, the lives of good men, 
 and the efficacy of religion in the closing 
 scene of life, had made a happy impression. 
 The elevated hopes and lively faith of pious 
 persons, in their dying moments, who are just 
 entering into the regions of glory, where all 
 their virtuous conflicts will be infinitely over- 
 
 33 
 
242 
 
 paid, are, indeed, of the most consoling and 
 animating nature. They strengthen confidence 
 in religion; and encourage perseverance in its 
 paths. That the author of this book should be 
 desirous of exciting in the breasts of others, the 
 encouragements to piety and virtue, which he 
 had himself felt from contemplating exalted 
 goodness, was natural and laudable; and he 
 has, in consequence, produced a valuable work, 
 which has been much read, and highly com- 
 mended. Besides the proof of approbation, which 
 the sale of seventeen editions, some of them 
 consisting of three or four thousand copies, has 
 afforded, the author received very gratifying 
 information of several individuals who had been 
 excited to virtue, or strengthened in a religious 
 course of life, by the perusal of this publication. 
 From many persons of piety and learning, he 
 also received letters, which expressed, in strong 
 terms, their approbation of the performance ; 
 and their opinion that it is happily calculated 
 to counteract the growing spirit of infidelity 
 and irreligion. 
 
 The work is, in every point of view, well 
 executed. The subjects have been judiciously 
 selected from the mass of biography, consisting 
 generally of distinguished individuals of differ- 
 ent periods, countries, and professions ; whose 
 sentiments would probably be listened to with 
 
243 
 
 reverence. An historical sketch of each person 
 is given, sufficient to make the reader acquainted 
 with him, and to give an interest to his testi- 
 mony on behalf of religion. This individual 
 testimony does not embrace a great number and 
 variety of expressions, which might be tedious 
 to many readers: it is confined to a few striking 
 and important declarations. And yet the senti- 
 ments of each person, when united together, 
 form a considerable body of religious instruction, 
 copiously varied, and communicated in the most 
 weighty and impressive manner. The facts 
 stated in the work are well authenticated ; the 
 arrangement is judicious ; and the language is 
 simple and correct. 
 
 In characterizing this little volume, the 
 Monthly Reviewers, with great propriety, ob- 
 serve, that "Mr. Murray has furnished an 
 interesting collection of testimonies; and we 
 wonder not, that a work so instructive and 
 amusing, as well as impressive, should have been 
 generally patronised. It is a book which may 
 be read, with profit, by persons in all situations." 
 The Guardian of Education also speaks in 
 high terms of the publication : " This work, in 
 its present enlarged state, forms, in our opinion, 
 one of the best books that can be put into the 
 hands of young people. The subject is grave 
 and important ; but Mr. Murray has rendered it 
 
244 
 
 highly interesting and engaging, by a judicious 
 selection of anecdotes and examples ; which, by 
 the intermixture of pious reflections, he teaches 
 the reader to apply to his own benefit." 
 
 Mr. Murray considered the extensive circula- 
 tion of this work, and the very general approba- 
 tion which it has received, as a pleasing evi- 
 dence, that a regard for piety and virtue, for 
 true practical religion, is sincere and lively ; and 
 prevails in a much greater degree, than some 
 gloomy and unfavourable circumstances would 
 induce us, at the first view, to suppose. The 
 success of this performance, and the good which 
 it was the means of producing, were considera- 
 tions of the most soothing nature to the heart of 
 the author; and excited his gratitude to God, 
 that he had been made of some use in promoting 
 the best interests of mankind. 
 
 The next work which Mr. Murray presented 
 to the public, was his ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 
 
 This is a performance of distinguished merit. 
 " It shows," as one of his literary correspondents 
 justly observes, "an extensive knowledge of the 
 subject; and, what is seldom joined with it, a 
 judicious distinction between the speculative and 
 the practical, the curious and the useful parts of 
 grammar." 
 
 The author has modestly called this work a 
 compilation. But the critical and attentive 
 
245 
 
 reader of it knows, that besides its great im- 
 provement in the arrangement of the various 
 subjects, and the logical division of its parts, it 
 contains many highly ingenious positions that 
 are perfectly original. In particular, the discus- 
 sions, which are dispersed through the book, and 
 intended to illustrate and support the author's 
 grammatical system in general, as well as to 
 defend some special points, will be allowed to 
 be not only new, but to contain much acute and 
 satisfactory reasoning. His views of the cases of 
 English nouns, and the moods and tenses of our 
 verbs, are so judicious, and so consonant with the 
 nature and idiom of our language, that teachers 
 almost universally acquiesce in the propriety of 
 his arrangements. 
 
 The definitions and the rules throughout the 
 Grammar, are expressed with neatness and per- 
 spicuity. They are as short and comprehensive 
 as the nature of the subject would admit : and 
 they are well adapted both to the understanding 
 and the memory of young persons. The mode 
 of parsing which our author recommends, is 
 admirably calculated to confirm and perfect the 
 scholar in what he has previously learned ; and 
 to enable him thoroughly to understand, arid 
 readily to apply, the rules, both principal and 
 subordinate. 
 
246 
 
 It may truly be said, that the language in 
 every part of the work, is simple, correct, and 
 perspicuous; and, consequently, well calculated 
 to improve the taste and habits of the student, in 
 the cultivation of his native tongue. In an 
 elementary work, it is of consequence that no 
 awkward or vulgar expressions, no harsh or 
 irregular constructions, should occur. In the 
 Grammar, at present under review, the reverse 
 of all these imperfections, is very conspicuous. 
 
 A particular recommendation of this Gram- 
 mar, is, that it embraces all the parts of the 
 science ; and gives to each of them that atten- 
 tion which its relative importance demands. 
 The student, by this means, surveys the whole 
 of his subject ; and derives the advantage which 
 results from such a connected view, at the same 
 time that he is not detained, nor disgusted, by 
 too prolix a discussion of any particular part. 
 The author has, with great propriety, distin- 
 guished by a larger letter, all the rules and 
 observations which are of primary importance ; 
 and, by this means, a judicious outline, or general 
 view, of the more prominent parts of the subject, 
 is happily presented to the student. When this 
 comprehensive view has been taken, the subor- 
 dinate points, contained in the smaller type, will 
 be perused to the greatest advantage. Many of 
 these explain the principles, on which the rules 
 
247 
 
 and positions are founded; showing their origin 
 to be in the constitution of the human mind, or 
 in the reason and nature of things ; and, so far 
 as these explanations extend, they may properly 
 be said to exhibit the philosophy of grammar. 
 This work is also valuable, for its occasional re- 
 ferences to the various opinions of other English 
 grammarians; and for the comparisons which it 
 often institutes, on particular points, between 
 the English and other languages. And yet 
 the author has studiously avoided every thing 
 that tends to involve in obscurity, the subjects 
 on which he treats. His system is connected 
 and uniform; his plan and materials are such as 
 are adapted to the present structure of the lan- 
 guage ; and his reasonings are calculated to pre- 
 serve its regularity, and prevent useless and 
 unwarrantable innovations. In these points of 
 view, this Grammar is entitled to high estima- 
 tion. An approved and established system of 
 grammatical rules and principles, judiciously 
 expressed and arranged, according to which the 
 youth of our country are educated, and which 
 may serve as a general standard of rectitude on 
 these subjects, is certainly a great and national 
 benefit; and entitles the author to the respect 
 and gratitude of the literary world. 
 
 The Appendix to the Grammar is introduced 
 with peculiar propriety. The learner, by his 
 
248 
 
 preceding acquirements, is fully prepared to 
 enter upon this part of the work. It will not 
 only confirm the rules of construction which he 
 has already learned; but, by regular transitions, 
 it will lead him forward to the principles and 
 practice of perspicuous and elegant composition. 
 The rules for attaining purity, propriety, and pre- 
 cision of language, both with regard to single 
 words and phrases, and the construction of sen- 
 tences, are exhibited with great order and judg- 
 ment; and illustrated by a variety of examples 
 which clearly show the importance and useful- 
 ness of the rules. This Appendix is, I believe, 
 generally allowed to contain, in a small compass, 
 a greater number of excellent rules and princi- 
 ples, with happy illustrations, for teaching accu- 
 rate and elegant composition, than is to be found 
 in any other publication. 
 
 The Grammar is closed by a sensible, affec- 
 tionate, and truly Christian " Address to young 
 students," on the proper application of their 
 literary attainments* and the happiness they 
 would find hi a pious and virtuous course of 
 life. This short address, especially with the last 
 additions to it, contains many excellent senti- 
 ments and admonitions; and it is expressed in 
 a style and manner well adapted to make serious 
 and lasting impressions on the minds of youth. 
 It is fraught with just and elevated views of 
 
249 
 
 learning and religion; and the solicitude of the 
 author, that the young persons whom he ad- 
 dresses, may answer the great end of their ex- 
 istence, both here and hereafter, can not fail of 
 disposing their minds to listen with reverence to 
 his affectionate recommendations. This address 
 will, I doubt not, be read by many young stu- 
 dents with a lively interest; and confirm or awa- 
 ken in them an attachment to the cause of re- 
 ligion and virtue. 
 
 Mr. Murray's Grammar being so celebrated 
 a work, and so extensively circulated, a more 
 particular account of the occasion of his writing 
 it, than is given in his Memoirs, may not be un- 
 acceptable to the reader. Some of his friends 
 established, at York, a school for the guarded ed- 
 ucation of young females ; which was continued 
 for several years. Mr. Murray strongly recom- 
 mended that the study of the* English language, 
 should form a prominent part of instruction. 
 The young persons employed as the first teach- 
 ers, not being sufficiently qualified in this respect, 
 he kindly undertook to instruct them at his 
 own house ; and, for their use, he made some 
 extracts from Blair, Campbell, and other writers, 
 which afterwards formed the basis of the Appen- 
 dix to his English Grammar. By these young 
 teachers, he was much importuned to write an 
 English Grammar, for the benefit of their pupils, 
 
 34 
 
250 
 
 on the same plan of simplicity, clearness, and 
 regular gradation, which he had pursued in his 
 verbal instructions. Their requests were sanc- 
 tioned and enforced, by the superintendents of 
 the school, and by some of his other friends: he 
 was at length induced to comply. In preparing 
 the work, and consenting to its publication, he 
 had no expectation that it would be used, except 
 by the school for which it was designed, and two 
 or three other schools, conducted by persons 
 who were also his friends. 
 
 Such was the humble origin of his Grammar; 
 which I have often heard him mention, even 
 amongst literary persons, with great humility, 
 simplicity, and candour. The first public recom- 
 mendations of the work which he read, gave him 
 the most lively joy, accompanied by some degree 
 of surprise. The success of the Grammar natu- 
 rally led to the publication of other works, in 
 which general benefit and extensive circulation 
 Were contemplated. The occasion of his writing 
 the " Power of Religion," is mentioned in his 
 Memoirs. It was designed merely for his own 
 distribution amongst his friends and neighbours. 
 Thus his commencing author, did not arise from 
 any overweening conceit of his own abilities, 
 nor from any desire of literary fame, or even 
 any idea that he could attain it; but from a dis- 
 interested and unfeigned desire to do good, in 
 
251 
 
 a small circle ; to disseminate useful knowledge, 
 correct literary taste, and above all, moral and 
 religious principles. I have often thought that 
 no part of his life is more exemplary, or strik- 
 ing, than the great humility, and earnest de- 
 sire to do good, with which he began, and in- 
 deed continued, his literary career; and that 
 the eminent success which attended his labours, 
 may, without presumption or superstition, be 
 attributed, in great measure, to the blessing of 
 Providence on motives of action so pure, so 
 pious and benevolent. The excellence of his 
 character contributed also in no small degree 
 to the success of his works : his kindness made 
 him many friends, who were anxious, from 
 regard to him, to receive and circulate them ; 
 and a general impression very justly prevailed, 
 that whatever proceeded from him would be 
 distinguished by good sense, good taste, correct 
 language, and the soundest principles of religion 
 and morality. 
 
 The next works which were published by 
 Mr. Murray, were his ENGLISH EXERCISES and 
 KEY. 
 
 The Grammar exhibits the principles and rules 
 of the language : these works contain most 
 copious examples and illustrations of the rules, 
 and display them in almost every possible 
 variety. They give more extended views of 
 
252 
 
 each subject than are found in the Grammar, or 
 could conveniently have been there introduced. 
 The great diversity of these illustrations serves 
 also, in many instances, as substitutes for a con- 
 siderable number of minute subordinate rules, 
 which it would have been tedious to have drawn 
 out into regular form. 
 
 It is not unusual to exhibit grammatical Eng- 
 lish exercises, in the most coarse and vulgar man- 
 ner. The errors are so glaring, that learners can 
 scarcely commit them ; and they are often so ex- 
 tremely awkward, that the proper words and con- 
 struction can not easily be discovered. They are, 
 in short, more calculated to puzzle and mislead 
 the learner, than to afford him any instruction. 
 The author of these Exercises has greatly served 
 the cause of education, by the judicious manner 
 in which they are executed. Both teachers and 
 pupils are under no small obligation to him for 
 these labours. No errors are admitted into his 
 Exercises, but such as are commonly to be met 
 with in respectable writings and conversation : 
 and, for this reason, the Key which corrects the 
 erroneous constructions, will render these books 
 of great use to all persons, who wish to express 
 themselves in accurate and unexceptionable 
 terms. Some parts of the Exercises and Key 
 are indeed adapted to young learners; but many 
 other parts of them are calculated for the im- 
 
provement of persons, who have made consider- 
 able proficiency in the study of the language. 
 These books have consequently been found well 
 adapted to inculcate and exemplify the refine- 
 ments and peculiarities of the English tongue. 
 They possess great merit; and it may justly be 
 said of them, in the words of the Monthly Re- 
 view, that, " they occupy, with distinguished 
 excellence,a most important place in the science 
 of the English language ; and may be warmly 
 recommended to the teachers of schools, as well 
 as to all those who are desirous of attaining cor- 
 rectness and precision in their native tongue." 
 
 A peculiar advantage of these Exercises, is, 
 that they consist almost altogether of sentences 
 which inculcate important sentiments respecting 
 morality, religion, and civil life ; all of which as 
 exhibited in the Key, are expressed in the most 
 correct, perspicuous, and easy language. The 
 author was studious to select illustrations of this 
 nature ; and, by this means, to combine every 
 advantage of which the subject is capable. It is 
 unnecessary to enlarge on the benefits, which 
 Exercises so constructed must produce to the 
 learner, with regard to expression, taste, and 
 composition. 
 
 These exercises furnish to the student a very 
 pleasing mode of improving himself in the con- 
 struction of our language. In surveying the in- 
 
254 
 
 accurate sentence, his ingenuity is exercised in 
 correcting every part which he thinks requires 
 amendment : and on a reference to the Key, 
 either by his teacher, or himself, he has the satis- 
 faction of perceiving that he had made the cor- 
 rections properly, or of knowing the points in 
 which he had failed, and of being guarded, in 
 future, against errors of a similar nature. And 
 he is confirmed in the propriety of these cor- 
 rections, by turning to the rules in the Grammar, 
 on which they are founded. Improvement thus 
 acquired, is not only peculiarly gratifying to an 
 ingenious mind, but must be impressive and per- 
 manent. 
 
 About the time that the Exercises and Key 
 appeared, our author published an ABRIDGMENT 
 of his Grammar. 
 
 This is a very neat and judicious little work. 
 It is calculated for two purposes : first, to con- 
 vey a competent knowledge of grammar to those 
 who are not designed to make an extensive pro- 
 gress in the study ; and secondly, to serve as an 
 Introduction to the author's larger Grammar, in 
 those schools where both the books are used. 
 The utility of this work has been abundantly 
 evinced by the very extensive sale which it has 
 had. In this country, about forty-eight thousand 
 copies have been annually sold for many years 
 past; and I believe that the number of copies 
 
255 
 
 sold, from the first publication of the work to the 
 present time, amounts to one million. 
 
 Our author's three volumes of the ENGLISH 
 READER, and the INTRODUCTION and SEQUEL to 
 it, have met with high approbation from the 
 public. The design and execution of these vol- 
 umes are truly excellent ; and well adapted to 
 promote their professed objects, improvement in 
 the art of reading, and storing the youthful mind 
 with the finest moral and religious sentiments. 
 These sentiments possess the additional merit 
 of being so happily diversified, as to comprise 
 a great body of instruction most important to 
 young persons. As the pieces which form these 
 volumes, are taken from the best English writers, 
 the composition is, of course, correct, and the 
 language finished and elegant. The benefit 
 which young students will reap from the perusal 
 of such models of excellence, early and impres- 
 sively set before them, can not be duly appre- 
 ciated but by those who have had the best op- 
 portunities to reflect on the subject. The com- 
 piler has selected, with the utmost care, what he 
 conceived to be particularly adapted to engage 
 the youthful mind, and to present to it the most 
 amiable and striking views of piety and virtue. 
 He has too embraced every suitable occasion to 
 exhibit the Christian religion in the most at- 
 tractive form; and to recommend to the serious 
 
256 
 
 attention of young persons its divine and deeply 
 interesting doctrines and precepts. I shall close 
 the observations on these three volumes, by a 
 short extract from the Monthly Review. " We 
 recommend this small volume (the English 
 Reader) to those who wish to attain, without 
 the help of instructers, the important advantages 
 of thinking and speaking with propriety. We 
 have no doubt that the public will be pleased 
 with the additions (the Introduction and Sequel) 
 to both the fronts of the original building. The 
 whole is truly useful, and well arranged. Dis- 
 playing a sound judgment, and actuated by the 
 purest motives, this gentleman is indeed entitled 
 to the fullest praise." 
 
 Our author's two French publications, the IN- 
 TRODUCTION AU LECTEUR FRANCOIS and the LEC- 
 TEUR FRANCOIS, are highly worthy of commend- 
 ation. They are, in a peculiar manner, accept- 
 able to parents and teachers, who are desirous 
 that their children and pupils should acquire a 
 knowledge of the French language, without im- 
 bibing a spirit of frivolity, or lax principles of 
 morality. Chaste, correct, and elegant, these 
 works exhibit fine specimens of the language; and 
 instruct the learner, by the easiest gradations, 
 in the various styles of the best French writers. 
 The " Preliminary Rules and Observations," in 
 the " Introduction au Lecteur Francois," and the 
 
257 
 
 Appendix to that work, are well calculated to 
 facilitate the acquisition of the French lan- 
 guage; and that not in a superficial manner, 
 but radically. The selections in both volumes 
 are of the choicest nature ; and forcibly incul- 
 cate sound morality and religion, adorned with 
 all the graces of language and composition. 
 The "Lecteur Francois," in particular, is a 
 truly classical work ; and it will, doubtless, be 
 long read and admired by persons who have a 
 a taste for French literature, or who'are desir- 
 ous of improving themselves in the language. 
 Correctness and accuracy in the printing of 
 books designed to teach a foreign language, are 
 highly desirable, and indeed indispensable. This 
 advantage the works in question possess in no 
 ordinary degree ; both with respect to orthog- 
 raphy and accentuation. 
 
 The ENGLISH SPELLING-BOOK composed by 
 our author, though it is a small volume, is a 
 work which bears the marks of great judgment 
 and ingenuity ; and, perhaps, it is not inferior 
 in point of ability and literary execution, to any 
 of his publications. The gradation throughout 
 the work is easy and regular; and well adapted 
 to the progress of the infant understanding. The 
 advances from letters to syllables, from syllables 
 to words, and from words to sentences, are car- 
 ried on by almost insensible degrees. The first 
 35 
 
lessons of spelling are of the simplest nature, and 
 they imperceptibly slide into those which follow: 
 the reading lessons are so carefully adjusted as 
 to contain no words, which the scholar has not 
 previously spelled. The sections of spelling are 
 constructed and arranged in such a manner, as 
 to afford great assistance in acquiring the true 
 pronunciation both of letters and words. The 
 division of syllables which the author has adopt- 
 ed, and his rules for spelling, are consonant to 
 the best authorities, and to the analogy of the 
 language. The more advanced reading lessons 
 are admirably calculated to attract and interest 
 young readers ; as well as to impress their minds 
 with moral and religious sentiments, suited to 
 their age and capacity. Under a garb of great 
 simplicity, these lessons convey an uncommon 
 portion of instruction, adapted to children in all 
 ranks of life. 
 
 In the plan and execution of this work, the 
 reader who is skilled in the subject, will find 
 considerable originality, of a truly useful nature. 
 And I believe, that the more accurately this 
 little volume is examined, the more it will be 
 approved. One of Mr. Murray's literary corres- 
 pondents speaks of it in the following terms: " It 
 surpasses every elementary work of the kind, in 
 felicity of arrangement, and in perspicuity, com- 
 prehensiveness, and accuracy of information." 
 
259 
 
 The next publication of our author, was his 
 ENGLISH GRAMMAR, in two volumes octavo. 
 
 It comprises the Grammar, Exercises, and 
 Key, united in one connected and uniform sys- 
 tem. The first volume contains the principles 
 and rules of the language, which are amply and 
 most judiciously exemplified in the second vol- 
 ume. These exemplifications are of so great 
 importance to the clear comprehension of the 
 rules, that the work would have been very de- 
 fective without them. The two volumes, in 
 their present state, are generally acknowledged 
 to constitute the best system of English grammar, 
 which has hitherto appeared. When this new 
 form of our author's grammatical works was 
 contemplated, he thought it afforded a proper 
 occasion, for extending and improving some of 
 the principles and positions contained in the 
 duodecimo Grammar; and he has done this very 
 amply, and doubtless, much to the satisfaction 
 of those who possess a critical knowledge of the 
 subject. Of this w T ork the public critics have 
 given a highly favourable character. The 
 " Christian Observers," in particular, speak of it, 
 as " a work of great correctness and perfection :" 
 and recommend it to teachers, to foreigners, and 
 to young persons who have left school. A dis- 
 tinguished author, in a letter addressed to Mr. 
 Murray, expresses the following sentiments re* 
 
260 
 
 specting this publication : " I have great satis- 
 faction in congratulating you on the completion 
 of jour system of English Grammar. The 
 British and American nations owe you a high 
 obligation, for the service you have rendered to 
 English literature, by your learned and elaborate 
 work. You may safely anticipate the gratitude 
 of a long succession of students of English 
 Grammar, in both hemispheres; and of writers in 
 the English language, who will recur to your 
 work as a standard in settling the principles, 
 and adjusting the niceties, of composition." The 
 work has already gone through five editions in 
 this country ; and it has been frequently reprint- 
 ed in America. 
 
 In contemplating the different publications of 
 Mr. Murray, on grammar, it is peculiarly satis- 
 factory to observe, how happily he has provided 
 every class of students with the means of acquir- 
 ing a knowledge of their native language. The 
 Abridgment is calculated for the minor schools, 
 and for those who use it as introductory to the 
 larger work. The duodecimo Grammar, and the 
 Exercises and Key, are suited to academies, and 
 to private learners. The octavo edition claims 
 the attention of persons, who aim at higher 
 attainments in the language ; who wish for an 
 extensive and critical knowledge of the subject. 
 To many it will serve as a book of reference ; 
 
261 
 
 in ascertaining what is proper, and correcting 
 what is erroneous, in English composition. Both 
 as an elegant and a scientific work, it will, I 
 doubt not, find a place in the libraries of 
 all persons, who are desirous of understanding 
 the construction of their native tongue, and of 
 speaking and writing it with accuracy and per- 
 spicuity ; or who wish to encourage and patron- 
 ise the literature of their country. 
 
 The " Selection from Bishop Home's Com- 
 mentary on the Psalms," and " The Duty and 
 Benefit of a Daily Perusal of the Holy Scrip- 
 tures," having been spoken of in a preceding chap- 
 ter, no further mention of them seems requisite. 
 
 It will probably be satisfactory to the reader, 
 to be informed of the prices which Mr. Murray 
 received for the copyrights of his different 
 works ; I shall, therefore, present him with an 
 accurate statement. Though inadequate to the 
 subsequent success of the works, they were cer- 
 tainly very liberal at the time they were given ; 
 and, I believe, greater than ever had been given 
 for works of a similar nature. The sale of most 
 of the books far exceeded every expectation 
 which had been formed, when the agreements 
 respecting them were made; but Mr. Murray 
 often expressed his entire satisfaction on the 
 subject. For the Grammar, Exercises, and Key, 
 he received seven hundred pounds; for the 
 
262 
 
 Abridgment, one hundred pounds ; for the Eng- 
 lish Reader, three hundred and fifty pounds ; for 
 the Sequel to the English Reader, two hundred 
 pounds; for the Introduction to the English 
 Reader, two hundred pounds ; for the Lecteur 
 Francois, and the Introduction au Lecteur Fran- 
 cois, seven hundred pounds ; for the Spelling- 
 Book, and the First Book for Children, five hun- 
 dred pounds ; for the Selections from Home's 
 Commentary on the Psalms, one hundred pounds. 
 The copyright of the Duty and Benefit of read- 
 ing the scriptures, as well as of the Power of 
 Religion, was presented by him to the booksel- 
 lers, without any pecuniary compensation. The 
 enlargement of the Grammar in the octavo edi- 
 tion, and the numerous improvements in, and 
 addition to his other works, were always gratui- 
 tous on his part. 
 
 The demand for his grammatical works, and 
 also for his Spelling-Book, has been so great and 
 regular, that excepting the octavo edition of the 
 Grammar, the types which compose them have 
 long been kept standing. The editions which 
 have been worked of though numerous, have 
 not, however, been limited to a small number of 
 copies. For many years past, every edition of 
 the Grammar has consisted of ten thousand 
 copies ; of the Exercises, ten thousand ; of the 
 Key, six thousand ; of the Abridgment of the 
 Grammar, twelve thousand; of the Spelling. 
 
263 
 
 Book, and of the First Book for Children, ten 
 thousand. Each edition of the English Reader, 
 and of the Introduction to the English Reader, 
 consists of ten thousand copies; of the Sequel to 
 the English Reader, six thousand ; of the Lec- 
 teur Francois, and the Introduction au Lecteur 
 Francois, each three thousand. That one au- 
 thor should have supplied so many works on edu- 
 cation, each of which is so extensively circulated, 
 and so highly approved, is, I believe, unprece- 
 dented in the annals of literature. The number 
 of editions through which Mr. Murray's gram- 
 matical and other works have passed, may be 
 seen by referring to the list of them, at the 
 end of this volume. 
 
 In the United States of North America, the 
 sale of his works is rapid ; and the editions are 
 numerous. The success of his publications 
 in his native land, afforded him much satis- 
 faction ; and was, as he observed, peculiarly 
 grateful to his feelings. The high approba- 
 tion which his grammatical works have received, 
 and their extensive circulation, in the United 
 States of North America, as well as in Great 
 Britain, is a very pleasing consideration. They 
 will doubtless tend, in no small degree, to pre- 
 serve the Anglo-American language from cor- 
 ruption ; and to stop the progress of useless 
 innovation. The advantages likely to accrue to 
 
264 
 
 both countries, from a common standard of 
 grammatical purity and propriety, are incal- 
 culable. The extended use of the English lan- 
 guage is a distinguishing feature of the times 
 in which we live : it may, perhaps, be one of 
 the means in the hands of a wise and merciful 
 Providence, for conveying the benefit of civiliza- 
 tion, and the knowledge of Christianity, to the 
 whole world. 
 
 Besides the anonymous extracts given in the 
 preceding part of this chapter, a great number 
 of letters to the author, from persons of high 
 respectability in the literary world, might be 
 produced, which contain the most favourable 
 sentiments of his publications, and reflect great 
 credit both on himself and on his productions. 
 But to publish letters, however honourable to 
 the subject of this work, without the permission 
 of the writers, would be inconsistent with pro- 
 priety, and a violation of my own principles, as 
 well as of those of my deceased friend. They 
 must therefore be omitted. One letter, however, 
 from the celebrated Dr. Blair, may, very prop- 
 erly, be inserted in confirmation of the ob- 
 servations contained in this chapter, on the 
 writings of Mr. Murray. The most material 
 parts of it were, many years since, extracted and 
 sent to the doctor's nephew and executor, with a 
 request for permission to publish them. This 
 
265 
 
 permission was readily granted ; in terms so 
 obliging, as make it evident that no objection can 
 arise to the publication of the whole letter. The 
 following is an exact copy of this interesting 
 communication ; so worthy of him who paid, 
 and of him who received, the just tribute of 
 commendation. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 I have been honoured with your kind 
 letter ; and can not but be very much flattered 
 with the testimonies of esteem and regard which 
 you are pleased to bestow ; though I am hum- 
 bled, at the same time, by a sense of my charac- 
 ter's having been overrated by you, much above 
 what it deserves. 1 am happy, however, that 
 my publications have been of any service to you, 
 in the very useful works which you have given 
 to the public. 
 
 I return you my best thanks for the very valua- 
 ble present of your works, which you have made 
 me; and which have come safe to my hands. I 
 have now perused a great part of them, with 
 much pleasure and edification. Your Grammar, 
 with the Exercises and the Key in a separate 
 volume, I esteem as a most excellent perform- 
 ance. I think it superior to any work of that 
 nature we have yet had ; and am persuaded that 
 it is, by much, the best Grammar of the English 
 
 36 
 
266 
 
 language extant. On syntax, in particular, you 
 have shown a wonderful degree of acuteness and 
 precision, in ascertaining the propriety of lan- 
 guage, and in rectifying the numberless errors 
 which writers are apt to commit. Were I only 
 beginning my course, as I am now (in my eighty- 
 third year) on the point of finishing it, I should 
 have hoped to have been much benefited, in 
 point of accurate style, by your instructions 
 and examples. Most useful they must certainly 
 be to all, who are applying themselves to the 
 arts of composition. 
 
 On your two volumes of the English Reader, 
 I could bestow much praise for the judiciousness 
 and propriety of the Selection, were it not that 
 my own writings are honoured with so great a 
 place in the work. Certainly the tendency of 
 the whole is of the best kind ; and does honour 
 to the worthy designs and intentions of the 
 author. To all the friends of religion, your 
 book on the Power of Religion on the Mind, 
 with the apt and useful exemplifications it gives, 
 can not but be highly acceptable. I am happy 
 to find the praises of the authors of different 
 Reviews bestowed with so much judgment and 
 propriety as they are on your works. 
 
 As we have here not much intercourse with 
 York, and as I have no correspondent nor ac- 
 quaintance in that fcity, your name was unknown 
 
267 
 
 to me till I received the present of your books, 
 as is also your business or profession. I should 
 presume you are, under some character, con- 
 cerned in the education of youth: and happy I 
 must account all the young people placed under 
 the charge of one, who not only discovers such 
 great abilities in all that relates to English lit- 
 erature, but whose writings bespeak a mind 
 fraught with the best sentiments, and the most 
 earnest zeal for religion and virtue.* 
 
 I shall be always happy to hear of your health, 
 success, and prosperity ; and, with great regard 
 and esteem, I am, 
 
 Sir, 
 . your most obliged, 
 
 and obedient humble servant, 
 
 *Hugh Blair. 
 
 21st Oct. 1800, 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 * To prevent misapprehension, I think it is necessary to 
 observe that Mr. Murray was, at no period of his life, engaged 
 as a teacher of youth. Many persons, besides Dr. Blair, 
 supposed, from the nature of his writings, that he was en> 
 ployed in the business of education : he even had applications 
 on the subject ; particularly from a respectable person in Hol- 
 land, who, from the favourable sentiments which he had con- 
 ceived of the author, on perusing his works, was desirous of 
 placing his son under the tuition of a person so highly esteemed. 
 From a nobleman of high rank in this country, with whom 
 
268 
 
 The appropriate and unqualified approbation 
 contained in the preceding letter, is the more 
 honourable to our author, because it was be- 
 stowed by a person whose literary attainments, 
 and professional studies, qualified him, in a 
 peculiar manner, to judge of the works which 
 he designates ; and whose moral and religious 
 character, as well as his years, precludes the 
 supposition, that he did not express the genuine 
 feelings of his mind. The merits of the works 
 might be safely rested on the testimony which 
 this letter contains, if there were no other recom- 
 mendations of them : but their excellence is 
 incontestably proved by the unanimous judg- 
 ment of the public critics, the sentiments of 
 many writers on education, and the almost uni- 
 versal admission of them into the seminaries, 
 both of this country, and of the North American 
 States. I sincerely hope, that they will long 
 continue to inform and guard the minds of 
 youth ; and to serve as models of correct and 
 
 Mr. Murray was wholly unacquainted, he received an applica- 
 tion, by letter, not indeed to educate his son, but to supply him 
 with a tutor. Though Mr. Murray was not a teacher of youth, 
 he entertained a high opinion of the office, and a great respect 
 for those, who faithfully endeavour to form the young mind to 
 knowledge and virtue. He often spoke of them, as persons 
 engaged in one of the most important concerns of society ; 
 and whose services merit a very liberal remuneration. 
 
269 
 
 chaste instruction, in various departments of 
 science. 
 
 If any reader should think that the observa- 
 tions in this chapter, are too far extended, and 
 bear the marks of undue partiality ; I beg leave 
 to state that I could scarcely have made them 
 more limited, on an occasion in which the pro- 
 fessed object is, to explain the nature and design, 
 and to portray the excellences, of these publi- 
 cations. I do not, however, wish to exalt the 
 value of them above its proper level, nor to 
 appreciate the author's literary talents more 
 highly than they deserve. In the important 
 business of education, I believe no person will 
 deny that he has been eminently useful; and 
 that his works have produced much practical 
 good to society. And this character certainly 
 entitles them to a respectable rank in the repub- 
 lic of letters. It will secure to the author, the 
 title of the friend of youth ; and the reputation 
 of having successfully employed his time and 
 talents, in promoting the best interests of the 
 rising generation : a reputation which is more 
 valuable, and dearer far, to the mind of a pious 
 man, than the highest acquisition of mere lite- 
 rary fame. 
 
 The praise which Dr. Johnson bestows on 
 Watts, may, with almost equal propriety, be ap- 
 plied to our author: "Whatever he took in hand 
 
270 
 
 was, by his incessant solicitude for souls, con- 
 verted to theology. As piety predominated in 
 his mind, it is diffused over his works. Under 
 his direction it may be truly said, that philoso- 
 phy is subservient to evangelical instruction : it 
 is difficult to read a page without learning, or at 
 least, wishing to be better." 
 
 THE EN1>. 
 
271 
 
 A LIST OF THE BOOKS 
 PUBLISHED BY LINDLEY MURRAY. 
 
 1. A FIRST BOOK FOR CHILDREN. The 17th edition. 
 
 2. AN ENGLISH SPELLING-BOOK ; with Reading Lessons a- 
 dapted to the capacities of Children : in Three Parts. Cal- 
 culated to advance the Learners by natural and easy grada- 
 tions ; and to teach Orthography and Pronunciation to- 
 gether. The 34th edition. 
 
 3. AN ABRIDGMENT OF MURRAY'S ENGLISH GRAMMAR. With 
 an Appendix, containing Exercises in Orthography, in Pars- 
 ing, in Syntax, and in Punctuation. Designed for the 
 younger Classes of Learners. The 92nd edition. 
 
 4. ENGLISH GRAMMAR, adapted to the different Classes of 
 Learners, With an Appendix, containing Rules, and Ob- 
 servations for assisting the more advanced Students to write 
 with perspicuity and accuracy. The 40th edition. 
 
 5. ENGLISH EXERCISES, adapted to Murray's English Gram- 
 mar : consisting of Exercises in Parsing ; instances of False 
 Orthography ; violations of the Rules of Syntax ; defects 
 in Punctuation ; and violations of the Rules respecting per- 
 spicuous and accurate Writing. Designed for the benefit 
 of private Learners, as well as for the use of Schools. The 
 34th edition. 
 
 6. KEY TO THE EXERCISES, adapted to Murray's English 
 Grammar. Calculated to enable Private Learners to be- 
 come their own instructors, in Grammar and Composition. 
 The 17th edition. 
 
 7. AN ENGLISH GRAMMAR: comprehending the Principles 
 and Rules of the language, illustrated by appropriate Exer- 
 cises, and a Key to the Exercises. In two vols. 8vo. The 
 5th edition, improved. 
 
 8. INTRODUCTION TO THE ENGLISH READER: or, A Selection 
 of Pieces, in Prose and Poetry ; calculated to improve the 
 younger Classes of Learners in Reading; and to imbue 
 their minds with the love of virtue. To which are added, 
 Rules and Observations for assisting Children to read with 
 Propriety. The 22nd edition. 
 
272 
 
 9. THE ENGLISH READER : or, Pieces in Prose and Poetry, 
 selected from the best Writers. Designed to assist young 
 Persons to read with propriety and effect ; to improve their 
 language and sentiments; and to inculcate some of the 
 most important principles of piety and virtue. With a few 
 preliminary Observations on the principles of good Read- 
 ing. The 19th edition. 
 
 10. SEQUEL TO THE ENGLISH READER: or, Elegant Selections 
 in Prose and Poetry. Designed to improve the highest 
 class of learners, in reading; to establish a taste for just 
 arid accurate composition ; and to promote the interests of 
 piety and virtue. The 6th edilion. 
 
 11. INTRODUCTION AH LF.CTFITR FRANCOIS: on, Recueil de 
 Pieces Choisies: avec 1'explication des idiotismes, et des 
 phrases difficiles, qui s'y trouvent. The 5th edition. 
 
 12. LECTEUR FRANCOIS: ou, Recueil de Pieces, en Prose et 
 en Vers, tirees des Meilleurs Ecrivains. Pour servir a per- 
 fectionner les jeunes gens dans la lecture ; a etendre leur 
 connoissance de la Langue Franchise et a leur inculquer 
 des principes de vertu et de piete. The 5th edition. 
 
 13. THE POWER OF RELIGION ON THE MIND, in Retirement, 
 Affliction, and at the approach of Death ; exemplified in the 
 Testimonies and Experience of Persons distinguished by 
 their greatness, learning, or virtue. The 18th edition. 
 
 " Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, 
 
 " Amidst life's pains, abasements, emptiness, 
 
 " The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill." YOUNG. 
 
 14. The same Work on fine paper, with a pica letter, 8vo. 
 
 15. THE DUTY AND BENEFIT of a daily Perusal of the HOLY 
 SCRIPTURES, in Families. The 2nd edition, improved. 
 
 16. A SELECTION from Bishop Home's Commentary on the 
 Psalms. 
 
ABSTRACT 
 
 OF 
 
 A MEMORIAL 
 
 OF 
 
 YORK MONTHLY MEETING OF FRIENDS, 
 
 RESPECTING 
 
 LINDLEY MURRAY. 
 
 THE ancient practice of our Society, of preserving memo- 
 rials of some of its members, whose lives and conversation 
 have eminently illustrated our Christian principles, has, we 
 believe, been in various ways beneficial. The account of those 
 who have fought the good fight, and kept the faith, and Who, 
 through infinite mercy, we have cause to believe, have re- 
 ceived the immortal crown, is calculated to stimulate the 
 lukewarm to enter on the Christian warfare, and to confirm 
 the faith of those who are already engaged, and animate them 
 in the spiritual conflict. It is with these views, that we feel 
 disposed to record a notice of the services and character of 
 our late much beloved friend and elder, Lindley Murray. 
 
 He was a native of Pennsylvania, North America; and his 
 parents were respected members of the Society of Friends. 
 His father designed him for a merchant, and he gave him an 
 excellent education. But Lindley Murray, having entertained 
 views of mental improvement superior to what is generally 
 afforded by mercantile persuits, on leaving school sought for 
 some employment more congenial with the bent of his mind. 
 
 37 
 
274 
 
 He gave a decided preference to the law, and having pursued 
 his studies for four years with an eminent solicitor, he com- 
 menced practice in New York ; where his knowledge and tal- 
 ents soon developed themselves, and appeared likely to gain 
 for him considerable practice. But it pleased Divine Provi- 
 dence, to arrest, by sickness, the course of his ardent pursuits; 
 and by a succession of circumstances which might then ap- 
 pear opposed to his usefulness and comfort, to direct his fu- 
 ture life to those purposes which Infinite Wisdom saw best. 
 
 About the year 1 784 his constitution being very much en- 
 feebled by illness, his physicians advised the trial of a milder 
 climate, as the most likely means to re-establish his health. 
 He had some years before been in this country, which in- 
 duced him to give a decided preference to England. At this 
 time he had been married about seventeen years ; and the 
 prospect of leaving their home and near connexions, was, to 
 him and his beloved wife, a severe trial. They hoped, however, 
 that with the blessing of Providence on the means thus used, 
 they might be favoured, at no distant period, to return to their 
 native country , which they left with the unity and sympathy 
 of their friends, as expressed in the certificate from the 
 Monthly Meeting of New York, addressed to one of the 
 Meetings in London. They landed in the First month, 1785, 
 and in the course of that year fixed their residence at Hold- 
 gate, near York; at which place they continued to live until 
 the time of Lindley Murray's decease. 
 
 During youth, the natural vivacity of his mind led him into 
 some of the gaieties incident to that period of life ; but there 
 is good reason to believe, that he was easily made sensible 
 of the operation of Divine Grace, and that his morals and 
 principles were preserved from contamination. For some 
 years previous to his settling in England, he had been led to 
 form a correct estimate of the value of all earthly pursuits; to 
 turn his back on the applause of the world ; and had become 
 an humble, consistent, and exemplary member of our religious 
 
275 
 
 society ; his mind, as it matured, having made the principles 
 of his education, those of his judgment. 
 
 Such was the character of our dear friend, when, by a Prov- 
 idence which we desire to acknowledge with gratitude, his 
 lot was first cast among us. The humility of his deportment, 
 and the Christian spirit which breathed through his whole 
 conduct, greatly endeared him to the members of this meet- 
 ing, and afforded him a scope for usefulness, of which he dili- 
 gently availed himself, for the benefit of all around him. His 
 health continued so delicate, as to prevent his taking a very 
 active part in our meetings for discipline, or in the concerns 
 of society at large; yet, contemplating his time, his talents, 
 and all that he possessed, but as a trust of which he had to 
 render an account, he proved by his future life how much 
 may be done for the good of others, under circumstances ap- 
 parently unfavourable, when the love of God and of our fel- 
 low creatures is the governing principle of the heart. 
 
 In the year 1787, he published the book well known by 
 the title of " The Power of Religion on the Mind." The con- 
 solation which he had himself derived from the hopes and 
 promises of the Gospel, led him, doubtless, to the selection 
 of these striking examples of the influence of religion, "in 
 retirement, affliction, and at the approach of death;" ex- 
 hibiting its efficacy in retreat from the world, and under the 
 most trying circumstances of human existence. His desire 
 that many persons should reap the benefit of this selection, 
 induced him to have a large number of copies printed for 
 gratuitous distribution. 
 
 At the time of Lindley Murray's coming to York, a 
 school had just been established for the education of girls 
 of the Society of Friends, which soon became an object of 
 great interest to him ; and it was for the benefit of this school 
 that he first attempted to simplify, and thereby facilitate the 
 acquirement, of elementary instruction. In his publications 
 for this purpose, he not only excluded whatever was calcu- 
 lated to impress false principles and sentiments in morals and 
 
276 
 
 religion, but he also aimed to make the course of instruction 
 in the elements of useful knowledge, subservient to a still 
 higher object that of imbuing the susceptible minds of youth 
 with the purest principles and precepts of Christian morality. 
 The fruits of these unostentatious labours can not be accurately 
 estimated ; but we have reason to believe that, under the 
 Divine blessing, they have had a decided and extensive influ- 
 ence in the formation of virtuous and religious character. 
 
 In the year 1795, seven friends were committed to York 
 Castle for refusing to pay tithes; the claimant having pursued 
 the Exchequer process, instead of the more easy mode of 
 recovery provided by law. Lindley Murray assisted the pris- 
 oners in the statement of their case, which was published 
 under the title of" The Prisoner's Defence;" and also in the 
 further support of their cause, in reply to the allegations of 
 the prosecutor. In these works, the soundness of his judg- 
 ment, and his habitual self-government and Christian temper r 
 were strikingly evinced. His opponent had attacked the ob- 
 jects of his severity with harsh invective; the replies return- 
 ed not railing for railing, but displayed the force of truth, 
 clothed in the spirit of Him who prayed for his persecutors. 
 
 These publications, as well as the Christian conduct of the 
 sufferers, excited a feeling of respect and commiseration for 
 them, which, we believe, tended to strengthen, in the public 
 mind, the testimony they supported, and to call forth, even 
 from the members of his own profession, a general expression 
 of disapprobation of the measures pursued by the claimant. 
 
 In the year 1812, Lindley Murray published " A Selection 
 from Bishop Home's Commentary on the Psalms ;" a work, 
 which, for many years, formed a part of his daily reading. In 
 the latter years of his life, his bodily infirmities increased ; but 
 his mind was preserved in intellectual and spiritual brightness ; 
 and he was particularly watchful, that his weakness of body 
 should not lead to any habits of indolence or unnecessary self 
 indulgence. 
 
277 
 
 A considerable portion of his time, during the latter part 
 of his life, was employed in the correction and improvement 
 of the numerous editions of his various works. His concern 
 for the religious instruction of the youth of our society, led him, 
 when in his seventieth year, to prepare and publish " A Com- 
 pendium of Religious Faith and Practice," chiefly designed, 
 for their use : and shortly afterwards he published a little 
 work on " The Duty and Benefit of a daily Perusal of the 
 Holy Scriptures in Families," which evinced his continued 
 concern for the best interests of society at large. Thus was our 
 dear friend engaged, through the course of a long life, to ex- 
 hibit in his daily walk, and to promote in the world, whatso- 
 ever things were honest, and lovely, and of good report. It 
 remains for us to mention a few particulars more immediately 
 illustrating his religious views and private character, and his 
 general usefulness as a member of our religious society. 
 Whilst health permitted him, he was a diligent attender of 
 our meetings for worship and discipline ; and was in life and 
 conversation, an eminent preacher of righteousness illustra- 
 ting in all his deportment, our Christian testimonies, with uni- 
 form consistency ; and we believe we may truly say, adorning 
 the gospel of God, his Saviour, in all things. 
 
 His charities, both public and private, but particularly the 
 latter, were extensive. He was a firm friend to the education 
 of the poorer classes of society, which he evinced not only by 
 his liberality in assisting public institutions for this purpose, 
 but by his kind attentions to the wants of those in his own 
 neighbourhood, at a period considerably prior to the general 
 interest being excited on the subject. He was very solicitous 
 for the improvement of the condition of the Indian aborigines 
 of his native country, and of the African race. He took a 
 lively interest in the proceedings of the Bible Society, and in 
 every thing which related to the extension of the Redeemer's 
 kingdom on earth. 
 
278 
 
 His exemplary moderation and simplicity in every thing con- 
 nected with his own expenditure, in his dress, in the furniture 
 of his house and table, and the entire coincidence of his beloved 
 and faithful partner in all his views, enabled them to devote a 
 considerable part of their income, and the profits which he de- 
 rived from his numerous works, to objects of piety and benevo- 
 lence. He was, at the same time, hospitable in his house, and, 
 though liberal, discriminating and judicious in his charity. His 
 mind, indeed, was richly imbued with Christian love ; from 
 which Divine root flowed that meekness, patience, gentleness, 
 charity, and forgiving temper, which he so uniformly evinced. 
 
 Although during nearly the last twenty years of his life, he 
 was unable, from the state of his health, to unite with us in 
 public worship, yet his zeal and devotion were not, we are per- 
 suaded, in any degree diminished. His delight was still in the 
 law of the Lord, and in his law did he meditate day and night. 
 Nor, though necessarily more excluded from their society, 
 were his love and attachment to his friends abated. 
 
 He was ready and willing, when of ability, to be consulted 
 by them ; and he continued to the last to take a lively interest 
 in whatever related to their welfare. He rejoiced especially 
 in the indication of spiritual growth amongst us ; and was 
 greatly concerned for the due exercise of our Christian disci- 
 pline, in the spirit of meekness and wisdom. 
 
 He stood in the station of an elder, from the year 1802 to 
 the period of his death ; and the judgment and advice of one 
 whose experience was so extensive, and whose natural pow- 
 ers and acquirements had been so sanctified by Divine Grace, 
 was a privilege to us, for which, while we deplore the loss, 
 we desire to render our humble acknowledgments to the Giver 
 of all good. Our dear friend, notwithstanding his various pri- 
 vations from the state of his health, was remarkable for cheer- 
 fulness : and he was frequently led to number his blessings, 
 and to acknowledge that his afflictions, and what appeared to 
 
279 
 
 be the most adverse circumstances of his life, were designed 
 to promote his final well-being. He never repined at his long 
 confinement, but was wont to observe how pleasant was his 
 prison, if he might use the term. 
 
 Whilst thus cultivating the Christian enjoyment of life, as 
 an evidence of his gratitude to God, he was often led, with 
 great humility, to contemplate the close of it as the commence- 
 ment of a state of infinite enjoyment. He frequently ex- 
 pressed his sense of his own imperfections and unworthiness, 
 and uniformly evinced that his hopes of salvation rested solely 
 on the mercy of God, through the atonement and mediation of 
 Jesus Clirist. On the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of 
 his union with his beloved partner, he thus expresses himself 
 in writing : " In the course of the long period of our union, 
 we have had our trials and our afflictions, we have seen a 
 variety of trying events and situations ; but we have been 
 favoured too, with many great and distinguished blessings. 
 Even the afflictions, and what appeared to be adverse occur- 
 rences, were designed for our final well-being. I hope the 
 gracious intention of these dispensations will be fully answered, 
 by our being safely landed, through the atonement and inter- 
 cession of our blessed Redeemer, on those happy shores 
 where no clouds nor storms are ever known; and where after 
 millions of ages of happiness shall have passed away, we shall 
 only seem to have begun our felicity a felicity that will 
 never end." 
 
 The following memorandum found in his writing desk, but to 
 which there is no date, evinces that habit of watchfulness and 
 self-examination so necessary to the growth of Christian char- 
 acter : "Preserve me from all vain self-complacency; from 
 seeking the applause of men; and from all solicitude about 
 what they may say or think of me. May I be truly humble, 
 and of a meek and quiet spirit. If I have done any good to 
 my fellow creatures, or in any degree promoted the will of 
 my heavenly Father, may I unfeignedly give him all the glory ; 
 
280 
 
 attributing nothing to myself, and taking comfort only from the 
 reflection, that an employment in his service affords an evi- 
 dence that his mercy is towards me , that I am not forsaken 
 by Him, and that he is training me for an inhabitant of his 
 blessed kingdom ; there to glorify and serve my God and Re- 
 deemer forever." 
 
 A few days after entering on his 81st year, he wrote as 
 follows : " For the mercies and preservation, and the con- 
 tinuance of the many blessings we have had together, (allud- 
 ing to his wife,) we have abundant cause to be thankful to 
 our heavenly Protector and Father. May He be pleased to 
 prepare us for his holy and happy kingdom, where we shall 
 then have to rejoice forever, in rendering continual thanks- 
 givings and praises, and the most devout and zealous services, 
 to our heavenly Father, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, One God, 
 blessed forever." 
 
 These memorandums express, we believe, the daily aspira- 
 tions and acknowledgments of our dear friend's mind ; and 
 fn this state of preparation, and of humble and comfortable 
 reliance on the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, was he, we 
 doubt not, found, when the messenger of death delivered his 
 hasty summons, and called him from the labours of the 
 church militant on earth, to the joys of the church triumph* 
 ant in heaven. 
 
 On the evening of the 13th of the Second-month, 1826, 
 he was suddenly seized with a severe attack of indisposition, 
 and on the morning of the 16th he breathed his last, in great 
 peace and resignation, in the 81st year of his age. His re- 
 mains were interred in Friends' burying ground at York ; a 
 large number of Friends and other respectable inhabitants at- 
 tending his funeral and the subsequent meeting. 
 
 Signed in our Monthly Meeting held at York, the 17th of 
 Fifth-month, and 20th of Sixth-month, 1826. 
 
 By Fifty-seven Persons. 
 
REMARKS 
 
 ON THE 
 
 EEVIEW OF INCHIQUIN'S LETTERS, 
 
 PUBLISHED IN THE 
 
 QUARTERLY REVIEW; 
 
 XPDHI6SZD TO 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 GEORGE CANNING, ESQUIRE. 
 
 0x SAMUEL, 1. AKMS J ROIS t.^ 
 No. 50, ConiraiLt. 
 
 1815. 
 
DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS To viits 
 
 District Clerk's Office. 
 
 BE IT BEMEMBEIIED, that on the' eleventh day of April, A. D. 1815, and in 
 the thirty-ninth year of the independence of the United ' States of America, 
 SAMUKL T. ARMSTRONG, of the said District, has deposited in this office the 
 title of a book, the right whereof he claims as Proprietor, in the words follow- 
 fag, to ivit: 
 
 "Remarks on the Review of Inchiquin's Letters, published in the Quarterly 
 Review; addressed to the Right Honourable George Canning, Esq. 
 
 In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, intitled, "An 
 act for the encouragement of Learning, by securing the Copies of Maps, Charts, 
 and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such Copies, during the times 
 therein mentioned;" and also to an act intitled, "An act supplementary to an 
 act, intitled an act for-^he Encouragement of Learning, by securing the Cop- 
 ies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such Copies 
 during the times therein mentioned; and extending the benefits thereof to thq 
 Ai'ts uf Designing, Engraving, and Etching, Historical and other Prints." 
 
 WILLIAM S. SHAW, 
 Clerk af the District of Massachusetts. 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 WHEN the following Remarks were almost finished^ 
 I was informed, that Strictures on the Review of 
 Inchiquin's Letters had been just published in New 
 York. As I have not read the Work, I can say 
 nothing of its merit: but some of my friends, who had 
 seen it, urged me to finish what I had proposed, and 
 to send it to the press. I have also been told, that 
 some Observations have been published in one of the 
 Boston news-papers on the same Review; but have 
 not seen them. 
 
 The general subject of these Remarks has become 
 possessed of considerable importance. Great Britain 
 and the United States are naturally friends; and their 
 friendship to each other cannot fail, if it should exist, 
 of being mutually and extensively beneficial. It has 
 its foundation laid deep in the common origin, lan- 
 guage, manners, laws, and religion; and scarcely less 
 deep in the common interests. Its consequences can 
 only be good: an interruption of it can only be mis- 
 chievous: the destruction of it will be an evil, which 
 cannot be measured. Nor will the injury to the 
 United States be greater, so far as human foresight is 
 able to divine, than to Great Britain. 
 
 I have ever considered those, who on either side of 
 the Atlantic have been willing to alienate these nations 
 
iV PREFACE. 
 
 from each other, as governed by passion and prejudice, 
 or as acting from ignorance or thoughtlessness. In 
 both countries they have been sufficiently numerous. 
 Here, as writers, they have appeared chiefly in News- 
 papers. In Great Britain they have assumed graver 
 characters.- Both the Travellers and the Literary 
 Journalists of that Country have for reasons, which ifc 
 would be idle to inquire after, and useless to allege, 
 thought it proper to caricature the Americans. Their 
 pens have been dipped in gall; and their representa- 
 tions have been, almost merely, a mixture of malevo- 
 lence and falsehood. As they have been long contin- 
 ued, and very often repeated, it cannot be unkind, or 
 in any sense improper, to examine their character. 
 
 A great number of these abusive effusions have 
 been published in British Reviews. They began in 
 Sentences, and Paragraphs: they have now become 
 the materials of extended discussion, and indicate 
 with sufficient evidence, a settled hostility against this 
 country. 
 
 That Britons should feel the common resentment of 
 enemies towards us, during the existence of the present 
 war, is certainly to be expected. But men, whose 
 minds are professedly enlarged with literature and sci- 
 ence, are fairly required to know, that what they write 
 is at least probably founded in truth, and to assert 
 nothing which is not well sustained by evidence. To 
 such men prejudice and passion ought, at least during 
 (heir sober lucubrations, to be strangers. By such 
 
PREFACE. f 
 
 mefl contempt and sneers ought to be admitted into 
 their writings with reluctance. But in the Reviews, 
 which I have mentioned, the Writers, in their Obser- 
 vations concerning this Country, have uttered little be- 
 side the language of contempt and ill nature. 
 
 The existing Government of these States has labour- 
 ed for a long time to alienate its citizens from Great 
 Britain) and to attach them to France. The attempt 
 has to some extent been blasted, hitherto: but it may 
 be renewed with fresh vigour at no distant period. 
 The only means of rendering it finally successful, of 
 which I can conceive, will be the co-operation of 
 Britons with the existing American Government in 
 its favourite design. In such a co-operation these 
 Writers have embarked with an ardour, scarcely to 
 have been expected. Few measures could with equal 
 efficacy bring forward such a catastrophe. Their 
 writings are extensively read in this Country; and, 
 wherever they are read, produce a resentment and in- 
 dignation, not easily forgotten. Very naturally, they 
 are supposed to be the sentiments of the British nation; 
 and the supposition easily exhibits every prospect of 
 future conciliation as hopeless, and even the wish for it 
 as idle and childish: for who can rationally desire any 
 connexion either with an individual, or a nation, capa- 
 ble of such sentiments? 
 
 The account, given, in the course of this Work, con- 
 cerning the manner, in which the British Reviews are 
 conducted, and concerning the character of the Re- 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 viewers, will go far towards persuading the people of 
 this Country, that they are not to receive their effusions 
 as being the sentiments of the British Nation, but as 
 ebullitions from inmates of the Fleet, King's bench, and 
 Newgate, prisons; or from other base and despicable 
 hirelings, employed to aid the dirty purposes of a 
 dirty bookseller. The Nation has not lost its former 
 nobleness; and Reviewers are not the organs of its 
 will. It still contains a multitude of great, and wise, 
 and good men, who, when the present paroxism is 
 over, will, I trust, act towards us ; as such men may be 
 fairly expected to act. 
 
 The Review of Inchiquin's Letters, as I have been 
 very lately informed, has in this country been attribu- 
 ted to Mr. Southey. I can hardly admit the supposi- 
 tion, that a man, possessing the reputation of this gen- 
 tleman, can have been the author of so unworthy a 
 production. If it is his; I can only say, I regret it, for 
 the sake of human nature. 
 
 The attention paid in the course of these Remarks 
 to Mr. Jeffrey, the Conductor of the Edinburgh Re- 
 view, has been abundantly merited by the indecent 
 sneers, and slanders, issued in that Journal concerning 
 the inhabitants of the United States. Scotchmen, and 
 Scotland, have been treated here with every expression 
 of good will; and we deserve from them nothing, but 
 to be "paid in kind." But in a Work, which from the 
 beginning has either openly, or insidiously, been hos- 
 tile to good Government, and Christianity, who, not 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 destitute of Common Sense, can expect any thing, 
 which is just, or honourable. As to Mr. Jeffrey him- 
 self, the civilities, which he received here, turned his 
 head; and have been requited only with insolence. 
 Nothing better could rationally have been expected 
 from a man, who had wickedness enough to go into 
 the field, in order to gain the reputation of a duellist, 
 and baseness enough to agree beforehand with his mis- 
 erable antagonist to fight with powder only. The 
 Edinburgh Review sometimes exhibits superiour tal- 
 ents; but, as a whole, it is a nuisance to the world. 
 
 It is time that the people of this country should be- 
 gin to estimate the foreigners, who visit it, more justly. 
 Nine, out of ten, so far as their observations are pub- 
 lished, are mere common slanderers; and appear to 
 cross the ocean for little else than to bely us, as soon 
 as they leave our shores. If they dislike our country 
 and its inhabitants, let them stay at home. We shall 
 not molest them. Here they claim, and receive, an 
 attention, due only to persons of worth; and then repay 
 our civilities with contempt and abuse. It is sufficiently 
 painful to be ill-treated by men of respectability; but 
 to be subjected to the heels, and the braying of such 
 creatures, as Janson, Ashe, and Parkinson; and that, 
 in a sense voluntarily, is to be humbled indeed. It is 
 to be hoped, that Americans, before they again open 
 their houses, and their hearts, for the reception of 
 foreign stragglers, will demand some evidence, that 
 they are not scoundrels.- Every worthy man, from 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 every country, I would welcome; and wish my coun- 
 trymen to welcome, to every good office. But it is 
 time, that we should begin to select from so corrupt a 
 mass, such parts, as are at least not putrid. 
 
 If we can be connected with Great Britain on 
 terms of mutual good will, and mutual respect; I shall 
 hail the connexion with the most sincere pleasure; but, 
 if the people of that country are only to regard us with 
 malignity and contempt, and to treat us with abuse 
 and slander; the sooner, and the farther, we are sep- 
 arated, the better. 
 
 Feb. 1, 1815. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Mr. Jeffersqti and Mr. Madison, 14 
 
 T&e War, 15 
 
 Honourable character of the British Nation, - - 16 
 
 Conduct of the War, - - - . . . 17 
 
 Comparison of British and American Rulers, - 2t 
 Congress compared with the British Parliament, 
 
 American Elections^ - ... 29 
 
 English Eleetions, - - 32 
 
 New England Elections, .---- 37 
 
 English Electioneering, - - 3* 
 
 Talents in the House of Commons, - 40 
 
 Matthew Lyon, - 4,1 
 
 Duels, - - - 42 
 
 Courts of Justice, - 44 
 Toleration, - - .45 
 
 Justices of the Peace, - 47 
 
 Miranda, ....... ib. 
 
 Professional education of Lawyers, - - ib. 
 
 of Physicians, - 48 
 
 English Lawyers, - ib. 
 
 Stealing, .... . 49 
 
 Separation of the church from the State and its consequences, - 5O 
 
 Fanaticism of England, - 52 
 
 Education of young men for the ministry in America, - 54 
 
 In England, - 56 
 
 Character of the English Clergy, S4 
 
 Of the American Clergy, - 70 
 
 Of American Merchants, - ib. 
 
 Of British Merchants, 71 
 
 Morals and Manners of the Americans, - 7t 
 
 Landjohbers, ....-- ib. 
 
 American rudeness, -73 
 
 Taverns, . - 74 
 
 English Taverns, - - 77 
 
 American W T omen, - - - 79 
 
 American Slavery, - - - 80 
 
 English, 81 
 
 West India, 83 
 
 Redemptioners, ... % 86 
 
 American intemperance, ---- 87 
 
 English intemperance, ... 88 
 
Xil CONTENTS. 
 
 Gouging, 90 
 
 Amusements of the English, - 91 
 
 Morals of Manchester, - 92 
 
 of Birmingham, - .... 93 
 
 of London, 97 
 
 Mediocrity of wealth in America, - - 101 
 
 Genius and Learning of Americans, - 106 
 
 Barlow's Columbiad, 107 
 
 Mac Fingal, ib. 
 
 Dr. franklin, - - .108 
 
 Dr. Rittenhouse, - - - 109 
 
 Hadley's Quadrant, - 111 
 
 City of Washington, - . - - 112 
 
 Naval Efforts of the Americans, IIS 
 
 Debates in Congress, - 114 
 
 In the British Parliament, - ib. 
 
 Lord Lauderdale, - ib. 
 
 Lord Stanhope, - 116 
 
 Sir Gregory Page Turner, ib. 
 
 Lord Stanhope, 118 
 
 Mr. Drake, jun. - - 119 
 
 Earl of Abingdon, - - 121 
 
 Morals of Parliament, - 123 
 
 Lord Cochrane, 124 
 
 Decency, - - 126 
 
 JohnElwes, - - ib. 
 
 Lewdness in Great Britain, - 128 
 
 Edinburgh Reriew, - 129 
 
 Conductor of it, 130 
 
 Language of the United States, - 1SS 
 
 of Great Britain, - - 140 
 
 Account of British Reviews, - - - 144 
 
 Remarks on this account, - - 158 
 
 on this abuse of the 1 Americans, - - - - 165 
 
REMARKS, &c. 
 
 YOU are reported, in this country, to have in- 
 stituted, and to controul, a literary journal, published 
 in London, under the title of The Quarterly Review. 
 Whether the report is just, or not, I am unable to de- 
 termine. If it is just; the following observations are 
 intentionally directed to you. If not; the proper ap- 
 plication of them will be made to some other person, 
 probably unknown to the public as the principal 
 
 patron. 
 
 In the twentieth number of this work, Art. llth, is 
 
 a review of a production, styled "Inchiquin the Jesu- 
 it's Letters, during a late residence in the United States 
 of America" The title you consider, and I presume 
 justly, as fictitious; and attribute the work to a Phil- 
 adelphian, named Ingersoll. There is a man of this 
 name in that city, whom the inhabitants, in one of 
 those fits of delirium, which often seize upon large 
 cities, sent as their Representative to Congress. Here 
 he rendered himself in a very short time both odious 
 and contemptible; and received such a flagellation from 
 the Hon. Mr. Stockton, of New Jersey, as neither he 
 nor his countrymen will soon forget: a flagellation, 
 you will permit me to add, (since you are so ready 
 to accuse us of manual violence,) administered, not 
 with the hand, but with the tongue. That this silly 
 man may have written the book, of which you speak; 
 and that it may be a very silly book; I am not dis- 
 posed to question. As the only knowledge of it 5 
 
 which I possess, is derived from this review, I am no* 
 
 3 
 
14 Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Madison. 
 
 Warranted to contradict any assertions concerning it, 
 which are made by the reviewer. Had your strictures 
 been confined to Inchiquin's Letters; you would nev- 
 er have heard from me. 
 
 In an early part of this paper you inform us, that 
 the book has suggested to yo^ that "it might not be 
 uninstructive, or unamusing to enquire a little into the 
 character of the people, whom its Government are 
 thus endeavouring to inflame into unextinguishable 
 hatred against us, and whom we are so desirous of 
 conciliating." "In doing this," you tell us, "we do not 
 profess to take Inchiquin for our only guide; but shall 
 avail ourselves of many partial, and scattered, hints to- 
 wards a correct portrait of the people of the United 
 States, which are to be found in the works of their 
 own artists, as well as in those of foreigners, who have 
 preceded this Jesuitical author." This is a task, upon 
 which you have entered pretty extensively heretofore; 
 and which has been assumed by several other literary 
 journalists ot Great Britain. The spirit, with which 
 it has been executed, has been the same: and it may 
 be asserted without the least fear of well founded con- 
 tradiction, that it is the very spirit, which you censure 
 with so much seventy; equally causeless; equally ma- 
 lignant; equally dishonourable to him, by whom it is 
 cherished. 
 
 There are two subjects, on which you have remark- 
 ed extensively, and about which I shall give myself 
 little concern. These are the characters, and the ad- 
 ministrations, of Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Madison. I 
 am a federalist, and a New Englander; a Yankee, as 
 a multitude of your countrymen choose to style us, 
 with the same gentlemanly spirit, with which they call 
 the French frog-eaters; the Italians, fiddlers; and the 
 
The War. 15 
 
 Russians, bears; with which they see nothing in the 
 Scotch, but dirt and the itch; in the Irish, nothing but 
 bulls, and lies; and in the Dutch, nothing but smoak- 
 ing, cheating, and stupidity; with which Dr. Clarke, 
 otherwise a worthy man, and plainly possessed of re- 
 spectable talents, declares, that every Russian* whom 
 he met, was a rogue; that both sexes in that country, 
 and those even of high rank, are encrusted with filth, 
 and covered with vermin. 
 
 There is not, I presume, an Englishman, who re- 
 gards the character, and politics, of Mr. Jefferson, and 
 Mr. Madison, with less approbation than myself. The 
 former I consider as a cunning, the latter as a weak, 
 man; and both, as hollow in their professions, insin- 
 cere in their declarations, disposed without reluctance 
 to sacrifice their country to the acquisition, and reten- 
 tion, of power, and actually sacrificing it, so far as they 
 have been able, for the accomplishment of horrid, and 
 despicable purposes. In the progress of their measures 
 I know not one, which wears even the appearance of 
 patriotism, or principle. 
 
 The war, existing between Great Britain and this 
 country, of which you complain with the best reason, 
 is in my opinion unnatural, impolitic on our part, 
 causeless, and unjust. I do not mean, that you have 
 given us no grounds for complaint. Your Orders in 
 Council were, to say the least, of a very questionable 
 nature; and the treatment, which our commerce has 
 received from you, both before and since that period, 
 is incapable of any vindication. But we, also, had act- 
 ed in a manner, equally censurable towards you. It 
 is unnecessary, that I should recite the provocations, 
 which we have given you. Suffice it to say, that France? 
 to whom with a spirit of drivelling infatuation we at> 
 
16 The War. 
 
 tached ourselves, had injured us ten times, where you 
 had done it once; and in a degree, which outran cal- 
 culation. Mr. Jefferson, a Spaniel where Bonaparte 
 was concerned, and, while he thought himself safe 
 under the imperial and royal protection, growling and 
 bristling in a manner, somewhat formidable, at Great 
 Britain, thought, poor man! that Great Britain would 
 certainly cease to be an independent nation within 
 twelve months from the date of the treaty concluded 
 by Messrs. Munroe and Pinckney. This, he himself 
 declared to Dr. Logan, was the reason why he reject- 
 ed that treaty: a reason, for alleging which a child ten 
 years old, if such a child could have been found, who 
 would have alleged it, ought to have been whipped. 
 
 At this time the British nation was employed, and 
 had for many years been employed, in defending 
 what was left of the liberty, and safety, of the human 
 race; the protestant religion; and the remains of liter- 
 ature, arts, science, civilization, and happiness; from 
 the jaws of the Corsican Cyclop. The expense, which 
 she incurred, the bravery of her fleets and armies, the 
 skill and conduct of her officers, the wisdom and firm- 
 ness of her councils, and the unanimity, patriotism and 
 perseverance, of her inhabitants, outrun all praise; and 
 surpass every preceding example. Blasted be the wish- 
 es of the man, who desires to see your nation in any 
 other than prosperous circumstances; and who will 
 not rejoice to see it free, virtuous and happy. The 
 human race are your debtors: and to you, under God, 
 it is owing in a great measure, that the inhabitants of 
 this country are in possession of their own liberty and 
 independence. I say this, because it is true: and not 
 one of my own countrymen, although I am well 
 
The War. 17 
 
 aware that many of them will deny the position, will 
 be able to refute it. 
 
 In this situation, that the American Government 
 should wish success to Napoleon was equally a proof 
 of profligacy, and madness. Should he succeed; the 
 only boon, which could be expected for the inhabit- 
 ants of this country, was to be eaten up last; and the 
 period at which they were to be devoured, was at so 
 small a distance, as to render the postponement of the 
 crisis scarcely a privilege. 
 
 This single fact tinctures the war, deeply, with the 
 character of ingratitude. We were neutrals: but we 
 had the same interest in its issue, as if we had been a 
 party. You were defending our interest; while we 
 were opposing it. Heaven blessed you with success: 
 and glory be to the Author of all blessing, that he was 
 pleased to give it in so bountiful a manner. 
 
 Far, very far, however, is this from being a complete 
 account of the merits of your countrymen. They 
 have done more to define, and perpetuate, liberty; to 
 form a wise, upright, and stable government; to im- 
 prove agriculture, arts, and manufactures; to extend 
 learning, and science; and to advance the interests of 
 morality, and religion; than any other nation, ancient 
 or modern. Your judicial system is an exhibition of 
 more wisdom than can be found in the internal police 
 of any spot on the globe. The British and Foreign 
 Bible Society, if there were no other monument of 
 your nation to be left, would transmit your character 
 to future generations with a glory, which will expire 
 only with the ages of time. 
 
 With the Conduct of the war, on our part, I am but 
 little better pleased than with the original declaration. 
 The plan of conquering Canada was equally iniqui- 
 
18 The Conduct of the War. 
 
 tous, and absurd. The inhabitants of Upper Cana- 
 da were chiefly emigrants from the United States; 
 and left behind them brothers and sisters, parents and 
 children. Those of Lower Canada were perfectly 
 friendly to us. Neither of them had done us any 
 wrong. Yet these were the people, who were to un- 
 dergo the principal sufferings of the war; and no rea- 
 son could be assigned, at the suggestion of which an 
 upright man would not blush, why we should be wil- 
 ling, that they should suffer at all. The acquisition of 
 Canada would have been only injurious to us. To 
 govern it has cost you immense sums. The United 
 States it would have cost much more. To you the pos- 
 session of Canada was safe. Were that country ours; 
 we should be exposed to the discontent, turmoil, and 
 insurrections, of the inhabitants: evils, to which no 
 limits can be foreseen; and the expense of blood, and 
 treasure, which would be necessary to quell, not to say 
 exterminate / them, it would be very difficult to esti- 
 mate: to omit what is much more important; the im- 
 measurable guilt of bringing the miseries, inseparable 
 from such a process, upon a people, to whom we owe 
 nothing but good will. 
 
 Our Government was ill informed, and weak, 
 enough to believe these people their friends: and un- 
 der this persuasion resolutely attempted, at the com- 
 mencement of the war, to detach them from their all e- 
 giance, and their interests. Alternately, they were 
 threatened, and courted: and the same hand held out 
 to them the torch and the olive branch. The Cana- 
 dians wisely disregarded both; and, unterrified by 
 that preeminent specimen of barbarism, the procla- 
 mation of Gen. Hull, (dictated for that officer, as I 
 am told he declares ; at Washington,) adhered to their 
 
The Conduct of the War. 19 
 
 interest, and their Sovereign. Since that period we 
 have done what was in our power to alienate them 
 still further, and, it must be acknowledged, have been 
 eminently successful. They now hate us as cordially, 
 as we can desire; and, it is to be hoped, that even the 
 unsusceptible mind of Mr. Madison, illustrious as he 
 is for pertinacity, has already, or will soon, become a 
 convert to this opinion. If not, let him send Gen. Pe- 
 ter B. Porter on two or three more Indian excursions 
 into that country; and all the difficulties in the way 
 of his conversion will vanish. 
 
 Gen. Hull, who was sent at the commencement of 
 the war to subdue Upper Canada, and who had ac- 
 quired an honourable character as a field officer in the 
 American Revolution, particularly in the resistance 
 made to Gen. Burgoyue, was hurried off to Detroit 
 with an expedition, which indicated, that his employ- 
 ers supposed he had nothing to do, after his arrival, 
 but to say u Ven i, vidi, vici;" and the work would be 
 done. He found at Detroit half an army, half vict- 
 ualled, half clothed, miserably furnished with the means 
 of making war, and with little provision for their own 
 safety, health, or comfort. The disastrous issue of the 
 enterprise was an equal, and signal, proof of the folly 
 of those, by whom it was originated, and of the jus- 
 tice of GOD. 
 
 A similar character must be given of the succeed- 
 ing attempts of Gens. Dearborn, Hampton, and Wil- 
 kinson. An examination of them, here, would be un- 
 necessary and tedious. I shall not, therefore, weary 
 myself with writing, nor you with reading it. It will 
 be enough to say, that by our various expeditions in- 
 to Canada we have lost much, and gained nothing. 
 We have, indeed, inflicted many evils upon you. Of 
 
The Conduct oj the War. 
 
 this we ought to be ashamed; and for it we have been, 
 and hereafter probably may be still more, severely 
 punished. We have destroyed your people; and you, 
 ours. You have boasted of your victories, and so have 
 we of ours; and both, often without any reason. We 
 have burnt your villages; and you have burnt ours. 
 We blew up the parliament house at Little York; 
 and you blew up the American Capitol, and the Pres- 
 ident's house, at Washington. The destruction was 
 in both cases causeless, and wanton; and both parties 
 exhibited themselves as mere barbarians. Yet I con- 
 fess, we set you the example. Sir George Prevost, 
 however, in a solemn proclamation, published after 
 trie destruction oiBnffalot Creek, and its environs, de- 
 clared, that the work of retaliation had been carried 
 sufficiently far. From this time nothing had occurred, 
 which could justify the ravages at Washington. 
 
 In your attacks upon ttsyou have had little more 
 success than we in ours upon you. The bargain has 
 been a losing one on both sides; and the sooner it is 
 terminated, the better. A little common sense, and a 
 little good nature, would easily bring the controversy 
 to a close- But it is questionable whether your govern- 
 ment, or ours, will very soon possess enough of either 
 to effectuate so desirable a purpose. That ours will, 
 I confess, 1 have no expectation. 
 
 Your History of the progress of the American gov- 
 ernment is in some respects just, and in some errone- 
 ous. If you wish to see the subject correctly stated; 
 you wiil find it exhibited in a masterly manner by the 
 Hon. Robert Goodloe Harper, in an Address to his fel- 
 low citizens, assembled at Annapolis, to celebrate the 
 victories of the Allies over Napoleon. Permit me to 
 recommend this work to you ? although it is an Amer- 
 
The American Rulers. 21 
 
 ican production, and written in a country, which you 
 think a land of barbarism and blunders. It will 
 afford you much useful instruction, which you cannot 
 get elsewhere; and will teach you to write with a bet- 
 ter spirit, and in better language. At the same time it 
 will gratify your spleen against one class of the Amer- 
 icans by shewing you the unworthy character, and 
 disgraceful conduct, of the leaders of that class; and 
 the base manner, in which they collected, and arrang- 
 ed, their political party. The expectation of being 
 gratified in this respect, will, I hope, induce you to 
 read the bookJtti 
 
 The first theme of your censure is made up of our 
 Rulers, and their Administration. On this subject I 
 presume you will hardly demand of me more liberal 
 concessions than those, which I have already made. 
 Let us now turn our eyes to Great Britain; and see 
 whether in this respect our character will suffer by a 
 comparison with yours. Mr. Jefferson and Mr. 
 Madison are, we will suppose, weak men. To the 
 former, indeed, you allow a plausible address, and 
 considerable talents: and it must be acknowledged, that 
 he possesses, in no contemptible degree, the talent, 
 which is styled Cunning. As to talents of any other 
 nature, I will leave him to display and his friends to 
 admit them. Place both these Magistrates as low as 
 you please. Were they weaker men than your John, 
 Stephen, Henry HI, Henry VI, Edward II, James I, 
 Charles II, and James II? Could not as many, and 
 those equally ridiculous and contemptible, things be 
 written, even now, concerning each of these men, as 
 concerning the two American Chiefs? Were not both 
 their private conduct, and their public policy, at least 
 4 
 
22 Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Madison. 
 
 as despicable; Englishmen themselves being the 
 Judges. 
 
 But u the American Rulers are grossly vicious 
 men." The private deportment of Mr. Madison is, I 
 believe, altogether decent, so far as what is commonly 
 styled morality, is concerned. It is true, he makes no 
 pretensions to the character of a religious man. But, 
 I believe, he never swears, gets drunk, frequents the 
 gambling table, nor keeps a mistress. How small, Sir, 
 do you think, is the number of your princes, of whom 
 this could be said with truth? Look back, if you 
 please, upon the list which I have set before you; and 
 tell me how many it contains, who were not blots, 
 and brands, upon the character of man. 
 
 You complain, and justly, of the hypocritical pol- 
 itics, and false professions, of these Presidents. Mr. 
 Madison 9 s hypocrisy is clumsy, and awkward. Mr. 
 Jefferson's is adroit, and sits upon him like an accom- 
 plishment; and, visible as it always was to men of 
 sense and integrity, has nevertheless satisfied his party., 
 and kept them in order. That of Charles II, though 
 he was plainly inferiour to Mr. Jefferson in talents, 
 was equally efficacious in controuling the principal 
 men, and the great body, of the English nation. Not 
 only did they unite very generally in his profligate and 
 ruinous measures, but addressed him, and spoke of 
 him publicly and privately, in terms of the most exag- 
 gerated and fulsome adulation; such as on a modern 
 ear produces effects, very similar to those, which are 
 experienced by the palate, when tasting Ipecacuanha. 
 A few of the distinguished Ministers of your church, 
 and a few illustrious Laymen, opposed the abominable 
 measures of this fiend in human shape; but the rest; 
 your Clergy, Nobles, Parliament, and People; united 
 
Slave- Trade. 23- 
 
 together in a vast mob, and followed with a hue and 
 cry of applause this vile man, who was labouring to 
 destroy at once their liberty and their religion. 
 
 You complain of the injustice of our Rulers to 
 Great Britain. Admit it. Turn your eyes, if you 
 please, upon your own country. Recollect the mis- 
 eries, which you have brought upon the people of 
 Hindoostan, and upon the wretched inhabitants of 
 Africa. Follow for a moment your Slave- factors, 
 prowling through this unhappy region, like a col lee - 
 tion of wolves and tygers,and destroying by the wars, 
 which they kindled, an endless multitude of the inhab- 
 itants, for the purpose of selling another endless multi- 
 tude into hopeless, agonizing bondage; of whom one 
 half perished on the way, and the other became vic- 
 tims, at no distant period, to toil, and torture. 
 
 You will tell me, perhaps, that we are equally, and 
 even more, interested in this charge than yourselves; 
 that we have not only been active in this infamous 
 traffic, but have bought, and kept, and still keep, these 
 miserable people in bondage. Softly, Sir. Our own 
 share in this business was all begun, and carried on, 
 under your patronage, and controul. When we form- 
 ed our National Constitution, the States stipulated, in 
 effect, that after the year 1808 the importation of 
 slaves should cease. To this stipulation the slave- 
 holding States were parties: and it was the earliest 
 dereliction of this iniquitous traffic, to which they 
 would consent. Blame them for this part of their 
 conduct as much as you please. I shall feel no in- 
 ducement to refute the charge. The other States 
 either abolished slavery in their Constitutions at the 
 first moment of their political existence; or exterminat 
 
24 Oppression of the Hindoos. 
 
 ed it by the earliest emancipation, which was in their 
 power. This was particularly true of New England. 
 
 You will perhaps reply, that Great Britain has 
 performed the same act of justice in a manner still 
 more efficacious. 1 rejoice in it. The name of Wil* 
 berforce, Sharp, Clarkson, and their associates, I re- 
 gard with all the respect, which can be due to mere 
 men; and hail with inexpressible delight the triumph, 
 atchieved by them at the end of a war, of near 20 
 years, over Liverpool slave-dealers, over West Indian 
 slave-holders, and over all the phalanx of avarice, bar- 
 barity, and oppression. They have erected to them- 
 selves a monument of glory, cere perennius. 
 
 At the same time I remember with no small morti- 
 fication the hostility, the abuse, the base passions, and 
 the despicable sentiments, which through this long 
 period they were obliged to encounter; not only from 
 the West Indian slave holders, and the Liverpool 
 slave- merchants, who, together with their friends, 
 found their way into your Senate, but in many instan- 
 ces, also, from the independent Gentlemen, and even 
 from the Noblemen, of your country. We accom- 
 plished the business with much less difficulty; notwith- 
 standing a great part of our Convention, and after- 
 wards of our Congress, was composed of those, whose 
 property consisted extensively in slaves. 
 
 In Hlndoostan your public conduct was for a long 
 period, and until very lately, so oppressive to the mis- 
 erable inhabitants, that persons of the first distinction in 
 Great JBritain branded it with the deepest shame. 
 You have begun a reformation, at which every good 
 man rejoices. Our conduct toward the Aborigines of 
 our country, though scandalous, is far from being 
 equally infamous with yours towards the Hindoos? 
 
The British Royal Family. 25 
 
 and the name of Harrison will go down to posterity 
 with less infamy, than those of C/k>e,and Sykes. But, 
 in this respect, you have begun to reform: we have 
 not. 
 
 Very unpleasant tales hang upon the private charac- 
 ter of Mr. Jefferson; but he never sacrificed his own 
 daughter, as James the 1st. did the wife of the Elector 
 Palatine; nor his own friend, as the same miserable 
 prince did Sir Walter Raleigh: and his life, with the ut- 
 most enormities attributed to it.cannot be placed by the 
 side of that brute in human shape, Charles the 2d. Nor 
 did he more directly, more universally, or more wan- 
 tonly, sacrifice the interests of the country, which he 
 governed. It has not yet been proved, that he was a 
 pensioner of France; nor was his servile dependence 
 on Bonaparte so servile as that of Charles on Louis 
 \Uh. Nor is the war, in which we are now involved, 
 more despicable, or more directly injurious to our in- 
 terests, than the second Dutch war, carried on by 
 Charles in obedience to Louis, was to those of Great 
 Britain. Charles's whole private life was a mere 
 mass of putrefaction. 
 
 While we are on this subject, let me turn your atten- 
 tion for a moment to the behaviour of some of the 
 members of the present reigning Family. Recal to 
 your remembrance for a single moment the story of 
 Mrs. Fitzherbert; the present situation of the Princess 
 of Wales; the story of "The Book;" the history of 
 the Marchioness of Yarmouth; and a few other items, 
 of the same unfortunate nature; particularly the whole 
 history of the Duke of York. It is enough for me 
 to direct the eye of an Englishman to these objects?, 
 I shall not insist upon them. 
 
6 Character of British Traveller*. 
 
 To these, however, I could, as you very easily 
 know, add a terrible list, if I were to go back through 
 the history of your Government. To say nothing of 
 the infernal spirit of Mary the Is?, the capricious and 
 brutal violence of her Father, and the enormous avar- 
 ice of her Grandfather; what do you think of the ex- 
 ecution of Mary, Queen of Scots, and the barbarous 
 treatment of several of her own subjects, by your 
 <? good queen Bess" If the character of rulers is to 
 stamp that of a nation; there are, I fear, very few peri- 
 ods of your history, which will bear an examination 
 How few of your Edwards and Henrys, of whom 
 you boast so much, although several of them possess- 
 ed great talents, were men of even a decent character. 
 Antecedently to the present reigning Family, three or 
 four princes will, I suspect, be all, whom you would 
 choose to name as persons of unblemished reputation. 
 
 You cannot but observe, Sir, the tenderness, with 
 which I have treated your country, nor failed to have 
 remarked the contrast, exhibited in it to the brutal 
 Billingsgate, with which you have insulted mine. The 
 facts, which you have alleged, you have drawn almost 
 wholly from British travellers; who, with a few ex- 
 ceptions, have either from ignorance, or dishonesty, 
 or both, so extensively violated truth, as to persuade 
 the inhabitants of this country to doubt the soundness 
 of all books of travels. The proverbial language, 
 here, concerning this subject is, "What reason have 
 we to suppose, that other travellers are more honest 
 than these; or that they are better informed? Both 
 their mistakes, and their falsehoods, are innumerable. 
 Their works, instead of being portraits of this country, 
 are caricatures. If they have drawn other countries 
 in the same manner; we know them from these writ- 
 
American Legislature. 27 
 
 ings, only as we know the character of a man from 
 the calumnies of his enemies, or the ribaldry of his 
 satirists." 
 
 There is, however, another source of error, from 
 which both they and you, take occasion to indulge 
 the love, and the malignity of misrepresentation, with 
 some advantage to yourselves, and gross injustice to 
 us. Your travellers lay hold on a news-paper para- 
 graph, an abusive pamphlet, or a scandalous tale, which 
 they heard recited in conversation; and from one or 
 other of these sources derive some fact, or facts, which 
 have really existed. The facts themselves, in which 
 only one, or a few individuals were concerned, you 
 attribute to classes of men; and derive from them con- 
 clusions, which you fasten on the whole American 
 people. 
 
 With the same equity you seize upon a custom, or 
 characteristic, existing in a greater or less degree in 
 some part of this country, and without qualification 
 attribute it to the inhabitants universally. With equal 
 truth might you ascribe the manners of Kamschatka 
 to the people of St. Petersburgh, and those of the 
 Cornwall wreckers to the citizens of Westminster. In 
 this manner what is originally true in your details is 
 'changed into falsehood; and facts are perverted to the 
 purposes of slander. 
 
 Your second attack is made on our National Leg- 
 islature. You sift the character of the Electors, and 
 their Representatives; and inform us from Peter Porcu- 
 pine, (Pray, Sir, did you go to the gaol, in which he lay 
 confined by one of your courts of justice, for libelling 
 your Government, to get this tale from him?) that "in 
 America the man of the people is one, who frequentt 
 the grog-shops, smokes a cigar, and harangues the 
 
8 John Wilkes, Sykes, and Burdelt. 
 
 ulace with violent abuse of the hostile faction. " You 
 then tell us of a man, "who had married a free black- 
 woman in the West Indies, had several children by 
 her, robbed and left her, went to the U. S. married 
 another wife, and, '-with all these blushing honours 
 thick upon him," was elected a member of the Senate," 
 We have undoubtedly scandalous members in our 
 Congress. "Pray, Sir, what think you of John Wilkes, 
 elected into your Parliament by the proud city of 
 London; of which you and your countrymen boast 
 in much the same terms with those, in which Neb- 
 uchadnezzar boasted of Babylon; of John Wilkes 
 elected a member of Parliament by the city of Lon- 
 don; expelled by the House of Commons, and by 
 the same city elected a second time; of John Wilkes, 
 who wrote the Essay on Woman, a mass of corrup- 
 tion and impiety, such as probably the world never saw 
 before; of John Wilkes, elected at the very time when 
 this putrid production came to light, and thus sanc- 
 tioned and supported, in this stupendous iniquity, by 
 the public voice of that great city? What think you of 
 Sykes, who was elected member of your Parliament, 
 after having starved in India one million of people by 
 purchasing the rice, on which alone they were to live, 
 and refusing to sell it again till he could obtain the 
 price, put upon it by his own avarice? What think 
 you of Sir Francis Burdett, the representative of 
 your polite city of Westminster? For his character I 
 need not refer you to the books, whence I have learn- 
 ed it. I refer you to your own knowledge. Now, 
 Sir, permit me to ask, Do you believe, that any 
 scoundrels in the American Congress are greater 
 scoundrels than these; or that any Orator of a stump 
 in the Southern States, or any backwoodsman in 
 
American Elections. 29 
 
 Kentucky, Ohio, or Tennessee, ever deserved to be 
 hanged half as many times? 
 
 Let me remind you, also, that this custom of 
 haranguing a mob, as means of obtaining an election, 
 is derived from Great Britain; that the names of 
 Fox, and Burke, are enrolled, as well as those of 
 Wilkes and Burdett, among your field orators; and 
 that although they did not mount a hogshead, or a 
 stump, the difference of the rostrum makes no differ- 
 ence in the practice, to the eye either of morality, or 
 taste; that, although they were probably more elo- 
 quent than the Ciceros of Kentucky, or Tennessee, 
 and somewhat more learned; and thus were able, like 
 Virgil, "to toss about their dung with an air of maj- 
 esty;" yet the superiority of their character serves only 
 to display the conduct with more deformity; and that 
 the higher your claims of intelligence and refinement 
 are, the deeper is your disgrace on account of this bar- 
 barism. Permit me further to inform you, that this 
 practice has no existence north of Maryland. 
 
 You observe that "every free man in America, aye 
 and free woman too, is a voter, and every one is free, 
 who declares himself to be worth fifty pounds;" and, 
 you add, "None thinks of boggling, if required, to 
 swear to this qualification; none more expert at an 
 evasion or equivocation than a citizen of the United 
 States." 
 
 These declarations, Sir, are, it must be owned, very 
 candid, and very gentlemanly. Some of them I will 
 examine here: others I shall notice in the sequel. 
 You say that every freeman in America is a voter. 
 If you intend, that every man is a voter who is not a 
 slave, the assertion is a falsehood, supremely scanda- 
 lous to you, because it is hardly possible, that you 
 5 
 
SO American Elections* 
 
 should not have known it to be false; and because 
 such ignorance would be scarcely less disgraceful to a 
 man of your political character than the untruth. If 
 you intend, what the word is used to denote in this 
 country, that every man who possesses the right of 
 voting is a voter; the assertion is true: and I congratu- 
 late you on the profoundness of the discovery. 
 
 But you say "every free-woman in this country is 
 a voter.' 7 In the Constitution of New Jersey, phrase- 
 ology, admitted, as I understand, by mere inadverten- 
 cy, was supposed by some of its inhabitants to give 
 the right of voting to women: and in a very small 
 number of instances,* and within very limited districts, 
 women have acted as voters. This, Sir, is the only 
 foundation on which rests your broad assertion, that 
 every free- woman in America is a voter. From a 
 person who sports with truth in this manner, what 
 can be expected, but such a foul mass of falsehood 
 and abuse, as is contained in the Review of the Let- 
 ters of Inchiquin? 
 
 The terms on which men are admitted to the elective 
 franchise in this country, are far from according with 
 my own wishes. In some of the States they are bet- 
 ter, and in others worse, than in Great Britain. In- 
 one respect they are immeasurably better. We give 
 the right to men of every description, who possess the 
 personal character, and the pecuniary qualifications, 
 specified by the law. We do not confine the election 
 to particular trades, nor to particular spots of ground. 
 We have no Old Sarums, where one man sends two 
 members to Parliament; and no Birminghams, 
 where eighty thousand do not send one. Every 
 
 * I know jbut one instanee. 
 
British House of Commons. 31 
 
 thirty five thousand freeborn inhabitants are empow- 
 ered to send one member to Congress, and every man 
 in this list, who possesses the personal character, and 
 pecuniary qualifications, required by law, either has, 
 or may at his option have, a right to vote for this 
 member. Now, Sir, we Americans believe, that this is 
 a more equitable method of conferring the right of 
 election than that, which is adopted in Great Britain, 
 That, as described by a writer,* to whose authority 
 you will not object, is the following. "The House of 
 Commons consists of five hundred and forty eight 
 members; of whom two huodred are elected by seven 
 thousand constituents: so that a majority of these 
 seven thousand without any reasonable title to supe- 
 riour weight or influence in the state, may, under cer- 
 tain circumstances, decide a question against the opin- 
 ion of as many millions. Or, to place the same ob- 
 ject in another point of view: if my estate be situated 
 In one county of the kingdom, I possess the ten thous- 
 andth part of a single representative; if in another 
 the thousandth; if in a particular district; I may be 
 one in twenty, who choose two representatives; if in 
 a still more favored spot, I may enjoy the right of 
 appointing two, myself. Or thirdly, to describe the 
 state of national representation as it exists in reality, it 
 may be affirmed, I believe, with truth, that about one 
 half of the House of Commons obtain their seats in 
 that assembly by the election of the people; the other 
 half by purchase, or by the nomination of single 
 proprietors of great estates" This picture, Sir, is de- 
 formed: the original cannot be very beautiful. It 
 may be beyond your power to adopt a better mode. 
 It was within ours; and we adopted it. 
 
 * Paley's Mor. PL;! 
 
3 Coventry Election. 
 
 Yet you say, "The popular representation in the 
 United States is a great fallacy, and a complete fraud, 
 On the people: and we agree with him, (the Jesuit,) 
 that the Turkish Constitution, which calls a leader to 
 his post by acclamation, may just as well be called a 
 popular representation." And do you really believe, 
 Sir, that our representation is not as fair, as that, in 
 which the one half of the representatives obtain their 
 seats by purchase or by the nomination of single pro- 
 prietors of great estates? I should not have thought 
 that even a Reviewer, accustomed as he is to say eve- 
 ry thing, which may gratify the passions and preju- 
 dices of himself, and his party, could have said this 
 without recalling, at least for one moment, the blush, 
 so long exiled from his cheeks. 
 
 If our people are not as fairly represented as those 
 of England, the want of fairness must be derived, not 
 from the principle, but from abuses of it in the practice. 
 That we are guilty of many such abuses, I am not 
 disposed to question. 
 
 Read, if you please, Sir, the following account of an 
 election in Coventry, in the year 1805; written by a 
 gentleman of more respectability than all your travel- 
 lers in America united. "I had heard much of Eng- 
 lish elections, and thought myself very fortunate in 
 having an opportunity to see the bustle of such an 
 occasion. But I am quite satisfied with one exhibition 
 of the kind; nor do I wish ever to behold another. 
 For never before did I witness such a scene of 
 drunkenness, uproar, and riot. The genius of Mac 
 Fingal, or of Hudibras, alone could convey to you an 
 adequate idea of a state of things, in which was most 
 forcibly exhibited the majesty of the sovereign people, 
 exercising the right of unbiassed suffrage." 
 
Coventry Election. S$ 
 
 "It seems, that the voters at English elections do 
 not necessarily reside on the spot; many live in remote 
 towns; and, when the period of election arrives, arc 
 transported to the place by the candidates, whose 
 cause they espouse, and are maintained by them free 
 of expense during the contest, which frequently lasts 
 two or three weeks. It is stated in extenuation of 
 this practice, that some of the electors, and especially 
 mechanics and labourers, cannot afford to leave their 
 homes, and pursuits, to travel to a distant county, and 
 remain at their own charge during a contested eJeo 
 tion; and that, therefore, it is but reasonable, that the 
 candidates should sustain this expense. However 
 plausible this statement may appear, it is certain, that 
 it is only an apology for an indirect species of bribery, 
 not less effectual than the direct giving of money. For 
 under the pretence of maintaining their voters, the can- 
 didates buy them with wine, whiskey, and dinners- 
 for he is always the best patriot, who gives the peo- 
 ple the most good things." 
 
 "The poll was held in a building, which appeared to 
 be the market; and the respective parties were striv- 
 ing, each to prevent the other from getting up to the 
 poll, to give their votes. For this purpose they did 
 not hesitate to use every degree of violence, short of 
 blows. The contest was principally in pushing. The 
 two contending parties were arranged in opposition 
 like two armies. When they came up to the poll, the 
 two fronts met; and in every instance a violent con-, 
 test ensued: hands to hands, face to face, and shoulder 
 to shoulder: and when one party gave way, the other 
 would press tumultuausly on till all fell in a promiscu- 
 ous heap. Then the victorious party rising from off 
 .their fallen antagonists, would shout, vociferating 
 
34 Coventry Election. 
 
 huzzas, throwing their hats into the air, and making 
 it ring with Mills! Mills! or Parry! Parry! according 
 as one or the other prevailed. In these contests, which 
 appeared to be in the main rather good natured, 
 individuals occasionally kindled into a rage; and 
 bloody noses and torn coats and shirts were usually 
 the consequence. I saw one man who had lost half 
 his coat, and half his shirt; and his bleeding back and 
 face were marked with the talons of some rival voter.' 5 
 
 Such, Sir, is the description of one of your elec- 
 tions. Were such an one to exist in New England; 
 it would form an sera in our history; would cover 
 with infamy both the electors and the candidates; and 
 so long as it was remembered, would scandalize their 
 posterity. 1 have lived long in this country; and have 
 never yet known a single shilling given to purchase a 
 vote. That it may have been done in solitary instan- 
 ces, since the asra of Mr. Jefferson's inauguration 
 may be true: but the instances must have been very 
 few. Compare this with the following declaration of 
 the same gentleman. "The parties were very nearly 
 equal in numbers: the contest had already continued 
 several days: and it was thought it would cost JV/r. 
 Parry twenty thousand pounds" You will remem- 
 ber, that this is not one of those elections, "which," 
 Dr. Paley informs us, "are obtained by purchase." 
 
 But we are not at the end of our progress. The 
 writer goes on: "I know not whether this election is 
 to be regarded as a fair sample of similar things in 
 England; but I heard a gentleman say, at Liverpool, 
 that these contests sometimes end in blood; that he 
 had seen them on some occasions unpave a whole 
 street; when every window, and lamp, would fly to 
 pieces." 
 
Coventry Election. 35 
 
 And again: "The mob were all monarchs: for they 
 were all noisy, and all drunk." "The alternate vic- 
 tors, in the intervals of the contests, sung a kind of 
 chorus, with loud acclamations, frantic gestures, and 
 convulsive expressions of joy in their features. The 
 bottle went round merrily over the heads of the pop- 
 ulace; and it was amusing enough to see the address, 
 used to get it to the mouth. The crowd was so 
 great, and such the eagerness to seize the bottle, that it 
 was constantly held up at arm's length above the head: 
 and thus it was moved on in the air; one man wrest- 
 ing it from another: and sometimes half a dozen had 
 hold of it at once. At length some one, more reso- 
 lute than his neighbours, or less drunk than they, 
 would grasp the bottle; and, when with much effort it 
 had acquired a determination towards a particular 
 throat, so great was the jostling, and shoving, that the 
 wide-mouthed expectant would sometimes make sev- 
 eral unsuccessful attempts to close his lips upon the 
 nozzle; and in the mean time the liquor would be 
 running in streams into his face and bosom." 
 
 You should not complain of American rudeness: 
 you live in a glass house. 
 
 Still we are not at the end of our progress. The 
 same Writer goes on: "Even the softer sex seemed to 
 be inspired with the madness of the occasion. They 
 were to be seen standing on heads of barrels, on the 
 street railings, and wherever else they could find situ* 
 ations a little more elevated, and secure, than the 
 ground: and occasionally they mixed with the crowd,, 
 joined in the strife and acclamations, and encouraged 
 their husbands, brothers, and lovers, by reproaches 
 and praises, frowns and applauses, according as the 
 
36 Coventry Election. 
 
 parties whose cause they favoured, were victorious or 
 defeated." 
 
 It seems, Sir, that although the free women of Coventry 
 are not voters, they esteem it no impropriety to appear 
 at your elections; are seen standing on heads of bar" 
 yds like the American orators, whom you mention- 
 ed above; that they climb the street railings, and take 
 other positions of the like delicate nature; that occasion- 
 ally they mix with the crowd, join in the strife and ac- 
 clamations, and encourage their husbands, brothers, 
 and lovers, by reproaches and praises, frowns and ap- 
 plauses. Certainly, Sir, you ought to have summoned 
 a little prudence, if not a little truth to your aid before 
 you put this unfortunate declaration upon your 
 paper: '-Every free woman in America is a voter." 
 No free woman in America "stands, Sir, on the head 
 of a barrel; climbs a street railing; mixes with a 
 drunken crowd, over the heads of which a bottle 
 moves on in the air, until one less drunk than his 
 neighbours grasps it, and gives it a determined direc- 
 tion towards his own throat; or, being disappointed, 
 turns the stream into his face and bosom." Coventry^ 
 Sir, is one of your cities; not a frontier settlement in 
 the wilds of America. It is the see of a Bishop. If 
 these are the manners of it's citizens; if this is a Cov- 
 entry election; if such is the conduct of the free wo- 
 men in Coventry; what are we to suppose concerning 
 those of your villages? 
 
 The American free women do not seat themselves in 
 their coaches, (for coaches really exist in this barbarous 
 land, and free women sometimes ride in them,) and 
 ride through the streets of Philadelphia, New York, or 
 Boston, to beg votes for a candidate, as did the Duch- 
 ess of Devonshire through the streets of Westmin* 
 
 J ti 
 
New England Elections. 37 
 
 ster to solicit them for the right honourable Charles J. 
 Fox: nor, when solicitations fail, do they present their 
 lily hands, much less their ruby lips to be kissed by 
 a butcher; as did the same beautiful spouse of one of 
 your prime Nobility Really, Sir, you should not have 
 meddled with this subject. Let me advise you, the 
 next time you take up the employment of bespatter- 
 ing the people of the United States } to let their elec- 
 tions, and their free women, alone. 
 
 Permit me now to inform you in what manner elec- 
 tions are conducted in New England: the part of the 
 United States, with which I am best acquainted. On 
 the morning of an election day the electors assemble 
 either in a church, or a town house, in the centre of 
 the township, of which they are inhabitants. 
 
 The business of the day is sometimes introduced by 
 a sermon, and very often by public prayer. A Mod 
 erator is chosen: the votes are given in with strict de- 
 cency; without a single debate; without noise, or dis- 
 order, or drink; and with not a little of the sobriety, 
 seen in religious assemblies. The meeting is then dis- 
 solved; the inhabitants retire quietly to their homes, 
 and have neither battles, nor disputes. Pray, Sir, 
 have you any such elections, as these? We have very 
 many. Probably, all are not such: but we have no 
 Coventry elections. Nor do I believe, that a single 
 woman, bond or free, ever appeared at an election 
 in New England since the colonization of the country. 
 It would be as much, as her character was worth. In- 
 deed, Sir, you should not have meddled with this 
 subject. 
 
 But, lest you should think I am not warranted to 
 rely on American testimony concerning British tran- 
 sactions, I will present you with a few passages from 
 6 
 
38 British Elections. 
 
 a writer of your own. In the 44th Letter of Espriellfy 
 you will find the following observations. 
 
 "Electioneering, as they call it, is a game, at which 
 every kind of deceit seems to be lawful. On these 
 occasions men, who at other times regard it as a duty 
 to speak truth, and think their honour implicated in 
 their word, scruple not at asserting the grossest and 
 most impudent falsehoods, if thereby they can obtain 
 a momentary advantage over the hostile party. A 
 striking instance of this has occurred with respect to 
 the election for Nottingham, a considerable town in 
 the middle of England, where the contest has been 
 violent, because party spirit has always been carried 
 to a high degree there. Some years ago the mob 
 ducked those who were most obnoxious to them, and 
 killed some of them in the operation. This was not 
 forgotten. The opposite party had the ascendancy 
 now, and those who were noted as having been active 
 in this outrageous cruelty were severely handled. In 
 such cases of summary justice the innocent are liable 
 to suffer with the guilty; and the rabble, when they 
 had got the power, abused it. Whoever voted for the 
 obnoxious candidate, had the skirts of his coat cut 
 off, and it was well if he escaped without further 
 injury." 
 
 After reciting the false story, told by an advocate 
 of the unsuccessful party, Espriella styles it "a pious 
 fraud to answer a party purpose, 7 ' and observes, " On 
 such occasions no frauds pious or impious are 
 scrupled" 
 
 Again, "Any thing like election in the plain sense 
 of the word, is unknown in England. Some seats 
 are private property; that is, the right of voting belongs 
 to a few householders, sometimes not more than half 
 
British Elections. 39 
 
 & dozen; and of course these voters are commanded 
 by the owner of the estate. The fewer they are, the 
 more easily they are managed. Great part of a bor- 
 ough in the west of England was consumed some 
 years ago by fire, and the lord of the manor would 
 not suffer the houses to be rebuilt for this reason. It 
 is not uncommon to see a seat in a certain house ad 
 vertisedfor in the public newspapers. In this man- 
 ner are a majority of the members returned" 
 
 "In other places, where the number of voters is 
 something greater, so as to be too many for this kind 
 of quiet and absolute controul, the business is more 
 difficult, and sometimes more expensive. The candi* 
 date then, instead of paying a settled sum to the lord 
 of the borough, must deal individually with the con- 
 stituents, 'who sell themselves to the highest bidder. 
 Hemember that an oath against bribery is required! 
 A common mode of evading the letter of the oath, is 
 to lay a wager. a l will bet so much," says the 
 agent of the candidate, "that you do not vote for us." 
 Done," says the voter freeman, goes to the hustings, 
 gives his voice, and returns to receive the money; not 
 as the price of his suffrage, but as the bet 'which he 
 has won!! It is said, that at Aylesbury a punch bowl 
 full of guineas stood upon the table, in the committee 
 room, and th& voters were helped out of it. The price 
 of voters varies according to their numbers. In some 
 places it is as low as forty shillings, in others, at liches- 
 ier for instance, it is thirty pounds. A set of such 
 constituents once waited upon the member whom they 
 had chosen, to request that he would vote against the 
 minister. "D m you!" was his answer. "What! 
 have not I bought you? And do you think that I will 
 not sell you?' 7 
 
40 British Elections. 
 
 "A great proportion of the infer! our voters are neces- 
 sarily under the absolute controul of their employers; 
 but there are always many, who are to be influenced 
 by weighty arguments, applied to the pidm of the 
 hand; and the struggle for these, when the parties 
 happen to be well balanced, leads to a thousand 
 devices. The moment one party can lay hold on a 
 voter of this description, they endeavour to ke?p him 
 constantly drunk till the time of the election, and 
 never to lose sight of him." 
 
 "The qualification for voting differs at different 
 places. At Bristol a freeman's daughter conveys it 
 by marriage. Women enter into the heat of party 
 even more eagerly than men, and when the mob is 
 more than usually mischievous are sure to be at the 
 head of it. In one election for that city, which was 
 violently disputed, it was common for the same wo- 
 man to marry several mert. The mode of divorce 
 was, that as soon as the ceremony was over, and the 
 parties came out of church, they went into the church 
 yard, and shaking hands over a grave, cried, Now 
 "death us do part" away then went the man to 
 vote, with his new qualification, and the woman, to 
 qualify another husband at another church. 
 
 "The house of Commons has not, and cannot have, 
 its proportion of talents. Its members aie wholly 
 chosen from among persons of great fortune. It is 
 known both at schools and at universities, that the 
 students of the privileged classes are generally remiss 
 in their studies, and inferior in information, for that 
 reason, to their contemporaries; there is therefore less 
 chance for finding a due proportion of knowledge 
 *mong them." 
 
British Elections. 41 
 
 "There are two ways in which men of talents, who 
 are not men of fortune, find their way into parlia- 
 ment. The minister sometimes picks out a few prom- 
 ising plants from the university, and forces them in his 
 hotbed. They are chosen so young, that they can- 
 not by any possibility have acquired information to 
 fit them for their situations; they are so flattered by 
 the choice, that they are puffed up with conceit, and 
 so fettered by it, that they must be at the beck of their 
 patron. The other method is byway of the law. But 
 men, who make their way up by legal practice, learn 
 in the course of that practice to disregard right and 
 wrong, and to consider themselves entirely as pleaders 
 on the one side. They continue to be pleaders, and 
 partisans, in the legislature; and never become states- 
 men."* 
 
 After several very coarse, and false assertions con- 
 cerning the lawyers, "who," you say, **piinci pally 
 compose the House of Representatives/' you tell us 
 the story of a rencounter between Mr. Griswold and 
 
 * If Mr. Southey is the author of the Review of Inchiquirfs Letters, the 
 passages, here quoted from Fspriella, must cover his face with crimson. The*. 
 Review is principally a comparison of British respectability with American base- 
 ness and degradation. Yet here he informs us, that Englishmen regard all 
 kinds of deceit as lawful in electioneering; that they scruple not at asserting 
 the grossest and most impudent falsehoods; that at a Nottingham election the 
 mob ducked some, and killed others; that on such occasions no frauds, pious or 
 impious, are scrupled; that any thing like an election in the plain sense of tbe 
 word is unknown in England; that a Majority of the Members of the House of 
 Commons are returned hy the most corrupt influence; that seats in that House 
 are not uncommonly advertised in newspapers; that, although oaths are required 
 of the voters, they are evaded by the grossest means; that votes are publicly 
 bought and sold; and that the House of Commons has not, and cannot have, its 
 proportion of talents. 
 
 If these things are true; where is the country, whose elections in a comparison 
 with those of England will not become white? What sober man must not suppose 
 the author of these assertions to have been delirious, when attempting such a 
 comparison? 
 
42 Matthew Lyon. 
 
 Matthew Lyon. This rencounter was disgraceful to 
 our country, and to the Congressional House of Rep- 
 resentatives. It was supremely disgraceful to Lyon: 
 but it was not disgraceful to Mr. Griswold This I 
 could easily prove to you, with all your prejudices 
 against the United States. Mr. Griswold is since 
 dead. Few men possess superiour talents; and none 
 more noble, honourable, or delicate sentiments, prob- 
 ably in the world: and no man is more respectfully 
 remembered by all, who knew him. The story, told 
 with truth and justice, would be too long to be insert- 
 ed here: it may perhaps be told hereafter. As it is 
 exhibited in Askt's travels, it is almost merely a col- 
 lection of falsehoods. 
 
 Lyon was an Irishman. It is not strange that an 
 ill-bred man, who comes to this country, should bring 
 with him his ill breeding. That this man was found 
 in the list of National Representatives was owing to 
 the same party spirit, which put Sir Francis Burdett 
 into your House of Commons, a man in every respect 
 more unfit for the place than Matthew Lyon In- 
 deed, you do not very often send us men, so respecta- 
 ble, as Matthew Lyon; gross and brutal as was this 
 outrage upon decency. 
 
 You next attack us on the score oj Duels. One 
 would think this subject ought not to have been men- 
 tioned by a man, who himself had so lately fought a 
 duel with Lord Castlereagh, and had thus assumed, 
 to the eye of God and of his own conscience, (if his 
 conscience has an eye left,) the character, and the 
 guilt, of a wilful murderer. You ought, Sir, to have 
 remembered, that Mr. Pitt had very lately fought a 
 duel with Mr. Tierney; that Mr. Fox, the other great 
 man of your nation, fought a duel with Mr. Adam; 
 
English Duels, 43 
 
 and that the Diike of York fought another with Col. 
 Lenox When duels are fought by the most splendid 
 Orators and Statesmen, of Great Britain; nay, at the 
 side of your throne; and when those, who were par- 
 ties in them, arc elevated to the stations of Embassa- 
 dors and prime Ministers; is it strange that the exam- 
 ple should be contagious? Is it not strange, that in the 
 midst of these scenes of assassination, and infamy, a 
 man should be found looking on, and himself a pri- 
 mary Actor, who should yet turn his eye coolly off, to 
 mark the stains of others. Look, Sir, at the rencoun- 
 ter between Col. Montgomery and Capt. Mac Nama- 
 ra: each of whom hazarded, and one of whom lost, 
 his life, to finish a quarrel between two dogs. Look 
 back, Sir, to the duel, fought by Mr. Anderson and 
 Mr. Stephens, because the one insisted, that a window 
 sash should be shoved up, and the other, that it should 
 be pulled down. Look at the duel between Lord 
 Camelford and Mr. Best, which issued in the death of 
 the former, and which was produced by the intrigues 
 of a prostitute, who had lived as the mistress of them 
 both. I acknowledge all the guilt, and all the shame, 
 which can attach to my countrymen from duels. 
 Load them with as many imputations, as you please; 
 and I will subjoin, Amen. At the same time, Sir, 
 forget not those of yourself, your statesmen, and your 
 princes: and let the brand be burnt equally deep on 
 your own forehead, theirs, and ours. Until this is 
 done, I think the pot ought to treat the kettle with 
 rather more civility. 
 
 In New England, before the year 18 12, there were 
 eight duels fought: one by two servants of the Plym- 
 outh Company, within the first year after they landed; 
 one by two West Indian youths ? who were at school 
 
44 American Courts of Justice. 
 
 in Stratford, in Connecticut; one by two officers of 
 the American army in the State of Rhode Island: 
 three by young men of Boston and the vicinity; one 
 by an officer of the navy and a young man of Boston; 
 and one by two citizens of New York, who crossed 
 the line into Connecticut, in order to avoid the sen- 
 tence of law in their own State. Thus in 192 years 
 there have been but five duels fought in New England 
 by its own inhabitants. Since the year 1812, it has 
 been said, (whether truly or not I am ignorant,) that 
 one or more duels were fought in the neighbourhood of 
 New London, by some of the officers, or the Midship- 
 men, of the frigates blocked up in the Thames, These, 
 also, were strangers. Will Great Britain furnish you 
 with an opportunity of telling the same story concern- 
 ing any part of her territory? 
 
 You next attack our Courts oj Justice; and assert, 
 that our judges are not independent of the Executive 
 power. The assertion is partially just. In Connec- 
 ticut, Rhode Island, and Vermont, and, I believe, in 
 one or two of the Western States, the judges are de- 
 pendent, not on the Executive, but the Legislature. 
 So far as this defect extends, it is a very serious one; 
 and is lamented by all the wise and good men of this 
 country. In Connecticut, however, the injury, nat- 
 urally derived from this source, has not been felt. 
 
 The judges have been invariably elected until their 
 death, or resignation, except in one or two cases of 
 supposed, or real, misbehaviour; not. indeed, in their 
 official character, but in some transactions aside from 
 their professional business. 
 
 In ail the other States, the judges are independent; 
 holding their offices during good behaviour, and being 
 secured in tneir salaries while they continue m office. 
 The salaries, also, are generally ample. 
 
American Courts of Justice. 45 
 
 The judges of the United States, (those, to whom 
 you evidently refer,) are appointed by the President 
 and Senate, as you suppose; but their office is holden 
 during good behaviour; and they cannot be removed 
 from it, except by an impeachment, of which the 
 House of Representatives are the authors, and a subse- 
 quent condemnation by the Senate. Their "Salaries" 
 also, "are adequate, and permanent, as contended for 
 by Mr. Hamilton" They are, therefore, not "the 
 creatures of the President and Senate." Your infor- 
 mation concerning this subject has been erroneous, and 
 your eloquence, lost. 
 
 Generally, our Courts are both learned and upright. 
 Some of thorn, I have no doubt, are defective in both 
 particulars: and a very few of them, I believe to have 
 been scandalously so. In the great body of them the 
 Community confides without suspicion, as well as 
 without complaint. 
 
 Permit me to remind you, that your tribunals have 
 jiot always been unstained. Look if you please at the 
 trial of the seven Bishops; at the tribunal of the Star 
 chamber; at the history of Jeffries. We shall not 
 blush at the comparison. How long, Sir, did your 
 nation struggle before its Judges were made indepen- 
 dent? Porcupine had the same reason to complain of 
 our Courts, as of yours. One of our Courts fined him 
 5,000 dollars for a libel on Dr. Rush; yours, beside 
 fining, imprisoned him for libelling your Governmei w. 
 
 That our Courts have at times done injustice, and 
 that our legislatures have at times been oppressive in 
 their laws, is certain. The treatment of the Quakers 
 at Boston, and of the Witches at Danvers, cannot be 
 vindicated: but if you will look back to the reigns of 
 Charles il, and James H, you will find more acts of 
 7 
 
46 The Conventicle Ad. 
 
 injustice done within a little period, than would be 
 done by our Courts and Legislatures in a thousand 
 years, if they were to sustain the same character, 
 which they have sustained hitherto, and were to pur- 
 sue similar conduct. You ejected, imprisoned, reduced 
 to beggary, and banished, within a small part of this 
 little period, more than two thousand nonconformist 
 Ministers; many of them among the first ornaments 
 of your nation; and that, after his Majesty had thus 
 solemnly said, "We do declare a liberty to tender con- 
 sciences, and that no man shall be disquieted, or called 
 in question, for differences of opinion, which do not 
 disturb the peace of the kingdom." 
 
 What think you, Sir, of the conventicle Act? which 
 enacted that every person above sixteen years of 
 age, present at any meeting under pretence of any ex- 
 ercise of religion in other manner than is the practice 
 of the church of England, where there are five persons 
 more than the household, shall for the first offence 
 by a Justice of the peace be recorded, and sent to gaol 
 three months, till he pay five pounds; and, for the 
 second offence six months, till he pay ten pounds; and 
 the third time, being convicted by a jury, shall be ban- 
 ished to some of the American plantations, excepting 
 New England, or Virginia" The very people, Sir, 
 who were banished by this Act, and by the preceding 
 and succeeding furious measures of your Government, 
 came to New England, and planted it at an immense 
 expense of toil, treasure, and blood. At all times they 
 allowed the most absolute toleration to the Episcopa- 
 lians, the authors of all their sufferings; and, after they 
 became independent, placed the Episcopalians, and all 
 other classes of religious on the same foundation of 
 absolute ecclesiastical liberty with themselves. Were 
 
Miranda and Copenhagen. 47 
 
 such a tale, as this, to be found in your history; it 
 would be boasted of by every Briton as the glory of 
 his country; as you now boast of the toleration, actu- 
 ally exercised by your Government. To tolerate, is ? 
 perhaps, all that you can do: happily, we can do more. 
 
 "The justices of the peace/' you say, "are not, as 
 with us, respectable country gentlemen. No such 
 character, in fact, is known in America." We have 
 no entailed estates in America; and no eldest sons, re- 
 siding upon them, who inherit by law the whole land- 
 ed property of their fathers: but we have many gen- 
 tlemen residing in our country towns, who are mag- 
 istrates: men, as much superiour to your numerous 
 list of fox hunters, who in your language are country 
 gentlemen, and form a large part of your justices of 
 the peaoe, as these country gentlemen are to scaven- 
 gers; superiour in intelligence, in knowledge of law, in 
 morals, and in manners. Your country gentlemen 
 have been so often described; and so many Americans 
 have seen them in England; that we are not ignorant 
 of their character, even on this side of the Atlantic. 
 As to the scheme of obtaining this office, subjoined to 
 the above quoted declaration; it has no existence, but 
 in your own imagination. 
 
 You mention with severity Mr. Jefferson's inter- 
 ference in the business of Miranda. With my 
 consent you may say what you please concerning 
 Mr. Jefferson; and, when you have done, you may, 
 also, set down by the side of Miranda, the expedition 
 to Copenhagen; and ask a discreet Dane, which of 
 them was the most dishonourable to human nature. 
 
 You observe in the following page, that "for any of 
 these callings, (Law, Physic, Surgery, and Divinity,} 
 jio preparatory course of study, no testimonial of com- 
 
48 Medical Institutions. 
 
 petency, no kind of examination, no particular qualifi- 
 cations, no diploma of license, are required." You 
 should not have made these assertions, Sir, in this 
 round manner, without better foundation. 
 
 In most, and, I believe, in all the States, Lawyers 
 are obliged to study, in some two, and in others three 
 years, before they can be admitted to practice. They 
 then undergo an examination. This I know to be 
 strict in some States: and believe it to be so in others. 
 There are two regular law schools in this country; and 
 the instruction, given in them, is given with a degree 
 of ability, and skill, which would not discredit Eng- 
 land itself. 
 
 There are at least eight Medical Institutions, and if 
 I mistake not, nine, in the Union; in which almost all 
 the physicians are educated. The lectures, read in 
 them, are given by learned and able men. I presume 
 that they are inferiour to the similar Institutions of 
 London and Edinbur I Still they are useful, and 
 honourable, to the country; as honourable, the date 
 of our colonization being considered, as those of Great 
 Britain are to her. No physician, so far as my in- 
 formation extends, is empowered by law, except in 
 two or three of the States, to collect his debts for Med- 
 ical practice, unless he has been educated in one of 
 these Institutions. 
 
 Concerning the education of persons, destined for 
 the Ministry, I shall make some observations hereafter. 
 
 We will now, Sir, see the estimation, in which some 
 of the lawyers of your own country are held, at least 
 by one of your Nobility. In the house of Lords, 
 June 17, 1794, Lord Abingdon said, "The reform I 
 allude to is that of those locusts in the law, the petti- 
 fogging attornies of this country; who, like the locusts 
 
English Lawyers. 49 
 
 in Africa, fall like a cloud upon the earth, and eat up 
 every thing they meet with.*' Again, "I, as a member 
 of this House, am led to invoke the aid, and to excite 
 the endeavours, of your Lordships in assisting me to 
 stop the progress of this growing evil; the evil of all 
 others, perhaps the very only one in the State, most 
 assuredly the most crying evil in the State, that calls 
 for and requires reform." Again, "The greater, the 
 higher, the richer, you are, the more prone are you to 
 its consequences, and the surer of becoming sooner or 
 later the victims of its all devouring avarice." Once 
 more, ^Hic niger est, my Lords; but black as this qui 
 tarn gentleman is, and still blacker could I make him, 
 he is not half so black as those rotten limbs of the 
 law, who have aided and assisted him in this political 
 conspiracy, conducted by pettifogging artifice." 
 
 Had my Lord Abingdon lived in this country, I 
 am persuaded he would never have made, nor ever 
 have found any reason to make, such lamentations as 
 these. Lawyers in this country, whatever information 
 you may have received concerning them, are an hon- 
 ourable, and liberal-minded, class of men; and are 
 considered by their countrymen as sustaining a very 
 fair and unimpeachable character. Among them 
 there are undoubtedly rogues; resembling those com- 
 plained of by Lord Abingdon: generally they possess 
 a fair reputation. 
 
 You tell us a story concerning "a set of fellows, who 
 got into Parkinson's garden, and began to pluck the 
 fruit." This Parkinson, Sir, has told the world, pro- 
 fessedly from Mr. Jefferson, that an acre oj wheat in 
 Virginia, yields only two bushels and a half. Did 
 you believe this story? If you did; you supposed that 
 a Virginian farmer ploughed an acre of land* and 
 
50 Petty Thefts. 
 
 then sowed a bushel and a half of wheat, in order to 
 gain another bushel. How long did you imagine, 
 that this profitable agriculture could go on? You 
 knew that this story was a lie; and that the man, who 
 told a lie, in a case so palpable, would lie in every 
 other case, where he found any inducement Why 
 did you quote from such an authority? 
 
 That there are people in Baltimore, and in other 
 places, who would take fruit unlawfully, I have not a 
 doubt. In a country, where fruit abounds as it does 
 in this, and where it is often given away in large quan- 
 tities; and, when it is not, is often, in large quantities 
 also, made the food of swine; it is no unnatural thing 
 for persons in humble life, unpossessed of nice moral 
 feelings, or distinct apprehensions of what Morality 
 demands, to suppose, that they may take fruit, to some 
 extent, without any great offence. In England, where 
 fruit is comparatively scarce, and both the law and the 
 landholder hedge it about with great care, it may well 
 be supposed, that such license would be less frequently 
 permitted. At the same time, you hang a man for 
 stealing thirteen pence halfpenny. We value life at a 
 higher price; although your laws have determined, that 
 the life of an Englishman is worth only this sum. 
 
 Still, thefts are far less common here than they are 
 with you. The business of your Magistrates in pre- 
 venting and punishing, what you call poaching, is more 
 extensive than that of the whole criminal police of 
 this country; and, unhappily, is the business of a part 
 of your Clergymen, as well as of Lay magistrates. 
 
 In speaking concerning the separation of Church 
 and State, you say, "It is almost needless to add, that 
 this divorce has been productive of a pretty numerous 
 
Fanaticism in England. 51 
 
 a l op of illegitimate* sects; all equally thriving under 
 the salutary and fostering neglect of the parent State. 
 To recount them would be endless. Presbyterians 
 baptists, methodists, universalists, episcopalians* and 
 congregationalists, quakers and moravians, dunkers 
 and shakers; with a multitude of others, whose names 
 it would be as unprofitable to enumerate, as it would 
 be difficult to assign their characteristic differences of 
 doctrine or disbelief; exhibit all together as satisfac- 
 tory a view as can be desired, of the fanatical extrav- 
 agancies, to which the bulk of mankind would be 
 driven by the raptures of visionaries, or the arts of im- 
 postors, or by the mere necessity, and craving, of the 
 human mind for some intercourse with its Creator 
 in the absence of a national church and an establish- 
 ed worship." 
 
 Now, Sir, if you will please to look at the 29th of 
 Espriella's letters, you will find all these sects, declar- 
 ed by one of your own countrymen to exist at the 
 present time in England, and sixteen more; sixteen, I 
 mean, beside those, which, to make out his list of 
 forty-three specified, and the indefinite number, in- 
 cluded under his et ceteras, he has blended together 
 with intentional inaccuracy. Yet in Great Britain 
 the Church is not divorced from the State. Pray, Sir, 
 whence came this numerous train of sectarians in your 
 own country? Is it true, that the union of the Church 
 with the State, and the separation of the Church from 
 the State, produce exactly the same effects? This has 
 not usually been the operation of opposite causes. 
 
 To us, Sir, all these sects came from Great Britain, 
 They are your own offspring. From you came to 
 
 * Are Episcopalians an illegitimate Sect" 1 
 
52 Camp-meetings and Methodism. 
 
 this country Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists, Unl- 
 versalists, Episcopalians, and Congregationalists, Qua- 
 kers, and Moravians, Bunkers, and Shakers, "together 
 with a multitude of others, whose names it would be 
 unprofitable to enumerate." 
 
 The Camp-meetings, of which you make such elo- 
 quent mention, are derived from Great Britain. The 
 very Bishops of Methodism, whom you sent over to 
 this country, the travelling ministers, who came from 
 England, have given birth to these shameful extrava- 
 gancies: and these extravagancies, notwithstanding 
 their public, solemn declarations to the contrary, are, 
 with the highest probability, secretly cherished and 
 supported by the leading Methodists in Great Britain. 
 Here, by the great body of sober men, they are held 
 in contempt and abhorrence. But they have been 
 means of indulging the spirit of propagandism; and 
 have actually contributed to swell the muster-roll of 
 Methodism, by adding to it, annually, a considerable 
 number of miserable wretches, easily made victims 
 through their profound ignorance, the dictates of a 
 vivid imagination, and ardent feelings, to the vocife- 
 ration, and anathemas, of their itinerant exhorters. 1 
 doubt not, that the sober and virtuous men of this 
 class, (for such, it is fairly presumed, there are,) really 
 disapprove of these excesses; and are reluctantly in- 
 duced to wink at them, from the mere spirit of propa- 
 gandism: a spirit, which, when once imbibed, is too 
 powerful to be resisted by any ordinary human 
 virtue. 
 
 The real effect of what you are pleased to call the 
 divorce of Church and State in this country, is to 
 make all men feel, that they possess the same religiou?^ 
 : to induce them from this consideration to feel 
 
Jvanna Southcot. 
 
 the same interest in the prosperity of the government 
 which equally protects them all; and to live quietly 
 and pleasantly by the side of each other. 
 
 Please now. Sir, to turn for a moment to the letters 
 of Espriella; and cast your eye over the story of 
 John Wright and William Bryan, and their visit to 
 the prophets of Avignon. Thence proceed through 
 the story of Richard Brothers, and of Mr. Halhed, a 
 member of your Parliament, and a man of no despi- 
 cable talents, a convert to the phrenzy of Brothers. 
 Thence proceed to the next chapter; in which you 
 will .find the story of Joanna Southcot: and then say 
 whether you believe, that any country, even the 
 United States, ever produced specimens of religious 
 delirium, equal to these. Remember, that among her 
 early believers were three clergymen; one of them a 
 man of fashion, fortune, and noble family: not dis- 
 senting Ministers; not Presbyterian Clergymen: but 
 Clergymen of your own Church. Did you recollect, 
 Sir, when the Review, which is the subject of these 
 strictures, was written, and particularly the paragraphs 
 immediately under consideration, that Joanna South- 
 cot was an English w r oman, that her rude, vulgar 
 rhapsodies; "the vilest string of words, in the vilest 
 doggerel verse; which has no other connection than 
 what the vilest rhymes have suggested;" were believed 
 by several thousand persons, besides these Clergymen; 
 that She was believed to be commissioned "to destroy 
 the devil," and "was ordered to set down all his blas- 
 phemies, and show to the world what the language of 
 hell is;" that she announced herself to be the female 
 Redeemer of mankind; a bone from Christ, the 
 second Adam; the Bride of the Apocalypse; the 
 promised Seed, who is to bruise the serpent's head; 
 8 
 
54 Education for the Ministry. 
 
 that she disputed with the devil, and wrote down the 
 conversation; and that she seals those, who in the 
 Apocalypse are styled the hundred and forty four 
 thousand servants of God. If you did recollect these 
 facts, could you fail of subscribing the following de- 
 claration of Espriella? "We must acknowledge, that 
 there never was any age, or any country, so favoura- 
 ble to the success of imposture, or the growth of su- 
 perstition, as this very age, and this very England." 
 
 I promised to take some notice of the Education, 
 in this country, of persons, intended for the Ministry 
 of the Gospel. You say, that "the office of Judge in 
 the supreme and district courts, is conferred upon per- 
 sons, who have not gone through any previous dis- 
 dipline, or practice, to qualify them for discharging it; 
 and that the same holds good w r ith regard to those, 
 who are destined to be lawyers, physicians, surgeons, 
 and teachers of the divine word. For all or any of 
 these callings,"" you say, "no preparatory course of 
 study, no testimonial of competency, no kind of exam- 
 ination, no particular qualifications, no diploma, or 
 license, are required" 
 
 The justice of these declarations I will now exam- 
 ine. All the students in our colleges, unless some of 
 the new ones are excepted, and some, I know not 
 how many, in the Southern States, are taught Theol- 
 ogy in form as a science. In addition to this, every 
 individual, admitted to a license in the Congregational 
 and Presbyterian Churches, and, I presume, in the 
 Episcopalian also, studies Theology professionally; 
 either with a Professor of Divinity, or with some Cler- 
 gyman of reputation. At the termination of these 
 studies, the candidate for a license, in the two former 
 Churches, is regularly examined, before he can receive 
 
Theological Institutions. 55 
 
 it, by an Association of Ministers, or a Presbytery, 
 until the examiners are satisfied of his competency, 
 and, let me add, of his piety also. This has been the 
 state of things with respect to this subject from the 
 first colonization of New England. When he be- 
 comes a candidate for ordination, he is examined 
 again, in both respects, in the same manner; and usu- 
 ally by another Presbytery, or Association. There is, 
 however, one exception. A body of divines, how 
 numerous I am ignorant, but small in proportion to 
 that, whose conduct has been here described, does not, 
 as I am informed, usually insist on such examinations. 
 These are chiefly found on the eastern shores of New 
 England. But these, and all others, require the study, 
 and ample testimonials of the competency and gene- 
 ral character of the candidate: and a diploma is almost 
 absolutely indispensable. 
 
 Thus, Sir, this business was established from the be- 
 ginning. In modern times four Theological Semina- 
 ries have been founded in this country: one at Ando- 
 <vtr in Massachusetts, by Congregationalists; one in 
 New York, by the Associate Scotch Reformed; one 
 at New Brunswick in New Jersey, by the Dutch 
 Church; and one at Princeton, in New Jersey also, by 
 the Presbyterian Church. At Andover, students are 
 never admitted, except in extraordinary cases, unless 
 they have been liberally educated; nor without certi- 
 ficates of an irreproachable character; nor without a 
 formal examination. 
 
 After admission they are placed under the tuition 
 of three Professors; of Theology, of Sacred Litera- 
 ture, and of Sacred Rhetoric. Their term of study is 
 three years. In each of these years they are public- 
 ly, and critically examined. Then, in order to obtain 
 
56 Education for the Ministry in England. 
 
 a license, and afterwards, to be admitted to ordina- 
 tion, they must in each case pass through the Asso- 
 ciational, or Presbyterial examination, mentioned 
 above. What is true of the Seminary at Andover, is 
 believed to be true, substantially, of all the other Insti- 
 tutions of this nature. 
 
 I ought to add, that the foundation of a Theologi- 
 cal Seminary is begun in the city of New York, for 
 the professional education of young men destined to 
 the Ministry in the Episcopal Church. 
 
 Now let me request you to look back to the para- 
 graph, which has occasioned these remarks; and to 
 ask, What am I, and what is the World, to think of 
 the assertions, which you have made; assertions, with- 
 out any foundation in truth, and without any appear- 
 ance of decency. I think you yourself cannot but 
 admit, that they are rash and unhappy. Of the same 
 nature are very many of the other declarations, which 
 are contained in the review of Inchiquiri's Letters. 
 
 We will now, if you please, turn our attention to 
 the manner, in which young men are educated /or the 
 Evangelical Ministry in England, and in your own 
 Church. 
 
 In the Christian Observer for November 1811, is a 
 Review of "The state of the Established Church, in a 
 Series of Letters to the Right Hon. Spencer Perceval, 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer," &c. As I have not 
 the Letters, I shall take my quotations and references 
 out of the Review, and such parts of the Letters as are 
 transcribed. 
 
 On the state of your Universities, the author makes 
 the following statements. <>I believe, Sir, you cannot 
 be ignorant of the manner, in which those systems 
 are carried into effect, or rather are neglected; that 
 
Education for the Ministry in England. 57 
 
 iht example of too many among the preceptors, and 
 the looseness of conduct suffered among the students, 
 prove how widely our colleges have departed from 
 the intentions of the founders; so that, instead &f re 
 ligion, they too often confer habits, and opinions, de- 
 structive to the individuals, and baneful to those, 
 whose eternal happiness is hereafter to be entrusted to 
 persons, so little qualified, or accustomed, to appre- 
 ciate their own." p. 1. 
 
 Again. "There are more vice and profligacy coun- 
 tenanced at our universities, where a direct and obvi- 
 ous check exists, than would be suffered to take place 
 among its members afterwards, when they arrive al 
 situations in life, which present no positive restraints; 
 and the scenes of riot and debauchery, which pass un- 
 noticed (or at least are ineffectually noticed) by those, 
 who cannot be ignorant of them, would, in this me- 
 tropolis, subject the perpetrators to the correction of 
 the police: 7 p. 20. 
 
 The Christian Observer proceeds, "Religion the au- 
 thor conceives to be equally neglected." "Christianity 
 forms little or no part in the regular plan of instruc- 
 tion. Contrary to our experience in every other pro- 
 fession, candidates for our Ministry are taught every 
 branch of science, but that in which they are to prac- 
 tice. Chapel is not attended till it is half over. Ma- 
 ny go there intoxicated as to a kind of roll call: and 
 though the assumption of the Lord's supper is per- 
 emptory upon the students, no care is taken to teach 
 them its importance" &c. p. 22. 
 
 Letter III opens with similar statements in respect 
 to examination for orders. "Our future clergyman, 
 having taken his degree, (to which the principles of 
 religion form at Cambridge no step whatever, and at 
 
58 Candidates for Orders in the Church. 
 
 Oxford a very trifling one,) and having, often by Eu- 
 clid alone, attained that object, announces himself a 
 candidate for holy orders." Then "so very lax has 
 become the examination for orders, that there is no 
 man, who has taken a degree at the university, who 
 cannot reckon on ordination as a certainty, whatever 
 his attainments in learning, morals, or religion, 
 &c." "Speaking generally, I believe the only qualifi- 
 cations are to construe a chapter in the Greek Testa* 
 ment, and answer a few questions out of Grotius." A 
 specimen of these answers is then given in the answer 
 of a young man to the question, Who was the Medi- 
 ator between God and man? Answer. " The Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury." pp. 24 26. Speaking of the 
 difficulties, he would, on the contrary, oppose to the 
 attainment of orders, he says, "I shall, perhaps, be an- 
 swered, "How hard to throw a young man back upon 
 the world! that school learning is not of so much con- 
 sequence, as the moral character of a minister, &c." " 
 To which he replies 1st. by hoping, that, if a change 
 in the mode of examination were once known, 
 candidates would come as well prepared for the lat- 
 ter, as now unprepared for the former; and that, 
 2dly, it is actually "the want of attention to moral 
 character, which is at present most to be deplored, and 
 which he could wish to see commence even before the 
 time of ordination, &c." This cursory wish, with a 
 single page in Letter X, is the whole of the remedy, 
 our writer has to propose for the cure of such nume- 
 rous, inveterate, and complicated disorders. "The first 
 step to a reform in the church establishment," he tells 
 us, "should be an entire and total revision of the sys- 
 tem of our universities. A knowledge and rigid prac- 
 tice of the duties of religion should be rendered indis- 
 
Examination for Holy Orders* 59 
 
 pensable. Vice should be not only checked, but made, 
 after a certain limit a positive obstacle to wdination. 
 A preparation, and examination for orders should be 
 a part of the collegiate system, not left to Bishops, or 
 their chaplains; decent attendance on the church ser- 
 vice prescribed; and young men, intended for the 
 church, should declare such intention on their admis- 
 sion to the university." pp. 123 126. 
 
 You will please to remark, Sir, this account is 
 substantially admitted by the Editors of the Christian 
 Observer. For they say u We might have stirred to 
 jealousy our English universities by a close compari- 
 son of the youth, there under tuition for holy orders, 
 with those in foreign establishments. We might have 
 referred our venerable pastors to that, which is daily 
 asserted without contradiction, the incomparably great- 
 er learning, both literary, and more especially theo- 
 logical, to be found in the youth of our sister ministry 
 in Scotland to that, found amongst our own. Their 
 eyes might have been directed nearer home to instan- 
 ces of religious education, vSuccessfully conducted even 
 in this our own land amongst a class, whom it is alike 
 its own misfortune, and ours, that we must consider 
 as in rivalry with ourselves; and they might have been 
 intreated to consider what ground has been offered for 
 others to assert that even a large majority of regular- 
 ly educated dissenting ministers are better versed hi 
 the common places of theology, and that knowledge 
 of their Bible, on which as a science it rests, than even 
 a small minority of our rising ministry. Our address 
 would then have humbly, but practically, suggested it 
 to the conscience of each authorized instructor of 
 youth, or superintendant of the church, how far the 
 wished-for reform be not dependent, within its own 
 
60 Examination far Holy Orders. 
 
 sphere, wholly and solely upon himself. We should 
 have advised no waiting here for general regulations, 
 for legislative innovations, or metropolitan societies 
 for the education of the clergy on Dr. Bell's plan, to 
 be simultaneously adopted throughout the kingdom. 
 The change, we should have hinted, as in our minds 
 the only practicable one, would be the private, and 
 perhaps unperceived change, which each collegiate, or 
 episcopal dignitary should at the very next recurrence 
 of public examination think himself bound in duty to 
 adopt in regard to his own charge. We should press 
 upon them (with all due deference to an authority, 
 whose difficulties can only be understood from its ex- 
 ercise) the shameful instances of abuse in these re- 
 spects, which we are constrained to fear, are often 
 known to slip by those, who observe, and who might 
 prevent, them, but do it not. Upon the heads or tutors 
 of colleges, or professors, might be urged the immense 
 advantage, they respectively possess, for impressing on 
 the minds of their pupils the nature of that holy office, 
 into which many are to pass from their hands. And 
 even on the most venerable order itself might be urged 
 its own absolute and uncontroulable power, for repel- 
 ling any, (if they please without a reason) who shall 
 dare to approach them uninformed, unqualified for the 
 sacred office, with lips untouched by the flame of holy 
 zeal, or censers unhallowed, to bear incense in the 
 house of the LORD. Some living example, to this ef- 
 fect, and some \vho live but in grateful recollection, 
 might have been cited, whose salutary exertions still 
 rescue episcopal examination from absolute contempt. 
 And finally, we should have pointed to that great day 
 "when the Chief Shepherd shall appear," and asked, if 
 any temporal ease, or temporary applause for crimin- 
 
Examination Jar Holy Orders, 61 
 
 al levity, in the discharge of their important duties 
 would be well purchased by a burdened conscience in 
 the recollection of past negligence, or by a single frown 
 from His countenance, before whom "the heavens and 
 the earth will flee away, and there will be found no 
 place for them." 
 
 Nor, as it would seem, is this deplorable state of ed- 
 ucation for the Ministry in your Church any thing 
 new. "By reason whereof," says Hooker, that is, "the 
 rash and careless ordaining of every one, that hath but 
 a friend to bestow some two or three words of ordi- 
 nary commendation in his behalf; the church groweth 
 burdened with silly creatures more than need; whose 
 noted baseness and insufficiency bringeth their very 
 order itself into contempt." 
 
 "Oar Ember weeks," says Bishop Burnet, "are the 
 burden and grief of my life. The much greater part 
 of those, who come to be ordained, are ignorant to a 
 degree, not to be apprehended by tose, who are not 
 obliged to know it. The easiest part of knowl- 
 edge is that, to which they are the greatest strangers; 
 I mean the plainest parts of the Scriptures, which, 
 they say in excuse for their ignorance, that their tutors 
 in the universities never mentioned the reading of to 
 them; so that they can give no account, or at least a 
 very imperfect one, of the contents even of the Gos- 
 pel. Those, who have read some books, yet never 
 seem to have read the Scriptures. Many cannot give 
 a tolerable account even of the Catechism itself, how 
 short and plain soever. They cry, and think it a sad 
 disgrace to be denied orders, though the ignorance of 
 some is such, that in a well regulated state of things 
 they would appear not knowing enough to be admitted 
 
 to the holt/ sacrament" 
 Q 
 
62 Candidates for Holy Orders: 
 
 I hope, Sir, that when you and your brother jour- 
 nalists shall have read these statements, we shall hear no 
 more of the want of education, or of examinations, or 
 of diplomas, or of testimonials of competency, or of 
 any other qualifications, in the young men, destin- 
 ed to the Ministry in this country. I presume you 
 have not read them hitherto, if you have, your attack 
 upon us is as shameless, as it is unfounded. 
 
 That you may not suppose me to place an Undue 
 reliance on these testimonies, respectable as they are, I 
 will point you to one or two others. In the 46th 
 Letter of Espriella, you may find the following de- 
 clarations "There is to be found every where a great 
 number of those persons, whom we cannot prove to 
 be human beings, by any rational characteristic which 
 they possess, but who must be admitted to be so by a 
 sort of reductio ad absurditm, because they cannot 
 possibly be any thing else. They pass for men in the 
 world, because it has pleased God for wise purposes, 
 however inscrutable to us, to set them upon two legs, 
 instead of four; to give them smooth skins, and 
 no tail; and to enable them to speak without having 
 their tongues slit. They are like those weeds which will 
 spring up, and thrive in every soil, and every climate; 
 and which no favourable circumstance can improve 
 into utility. It is of little consequence whether they 
 shoot water fow\,attend horse races, frequent the broth- 
 el, and encourage the wine trade, in one place, or anoth- 
 er; but as a few years of this kind of life usually sat- 
 isfy a man for the rest of it, it is convenient that 
 there should be a place appointed, where one of this 
 description can pass through his course of studies out of 
 sight of his relations, and without injuring his character, 
 and from whence he can cqme with the advantage of 
 
Non-Residence of the English Clergy. 53 
 
 having been at the University, and a, qualification, 
 which enables him to undertake the cure of souls. 
 Th<e heretical bishops never inquire into the moral 
 conduct of those, upon whom they lay their unhallowed 
 hands: and as for the quantity af learning, which is 
 required, Mr. Maillardet,who exhibits his Androeides 
 in London, could put enough into an automaton" 
 
 As these letters are believed to have been written by 
 one of the gentlemen, who write in the Quarterly Re- 
 view; the testimony, which he gives on this subject, 
 will be readily admitted by you. But what must be 
 the men; what, particularly, the Clergymen; who mer- 
 it this character; and who, secluded from the world, 
 and "out of sight of their relations" spend their time, 
 without injuring their character, in shooting water 
 fowl, attending horse races, frequenting the broth- 
 el, and encouraging the wine trade?" And what 
 must be "the quantity of learning, which is required 
 to qualify them for ordination, when Maillardet could 
 put as much into an automaton?" And what must be 
 the Bishops, who never inquire into the moral con- 
 duct of those, upon whom they lay their hands? 
 
 On Monday, June 18, 1810, the Earl of Harrowby 
 delivered a speech in the House of Lords upon a 
 clause in the Appropriation act for granting the sum of 
 100,000 pounds for the relief of the poorer Clergy. In 
 this speech is presented to the public an extensive, mi- 
 nute, and very melancholy view of the state of your 
 parishes. Among the different painful exhibitions, 
 made by his Lordship of this subject, that of the non- 
 residence of your -Clergy is I think the most painful. 
 He informs .us, that of incumbents, in eleven thousand 
 one hundred and sixty-four benefices and dignities, 
 thei;e were only five thousand and forty legally or 
 
04 Non- Residence of the English Clergy. 
 
 virtually resident; and of course there were six thou- 
 sand one hundred and twenty -four livings, on which 
 the incumbents did not reside. In this land of barba- 
 rism, and blunders, it is difficult to avoid asking, 
 Where were these six thousand one hundred and 
 twenty -four Ministers of the Gospel? Every one of 
 them declared, antecedently to his entrance into holy 
 orders, that he verily believed himself moved by the 
 Holy Ghost to assume the sacred office. For what 
 did these men believe the Holy Ghost moved them to 
 take upon themselves the Evangelical Ministry? Was 
 it to assume the office, and forget its duties; profess- 
 edly to take the charge of the flock, and then leave 
 them to "strangers, who care not for them;" to gain a 
 right to the living, without performing the service to 
 which it is annexed; to spend their life in pleasure, 
 and leave the souls of their congregation to perish? 
 
 The true reasons for this shameless violation of all 
 their vows, this prostitution of their office, this aban- 
 donment of their duty, are, I strongly suspect, found 
 in the following passage, in the Review of the Letters 
 to Mr. Perceval. 
 
 "We presume to propose a similar style of address 
 to the Clergy at large, upon the subject of another 
 leading complaint, urged in this pamphlet against 
 their negligent discharge of the pastoral duties. But 
 let us first hear, and offer a few remarks upon the lan- 
 guage of this complaint itself. "A great proportion of 
 our Clergy," he tells us, "are a set of men, wrapt up 
 in secular pursuits, with a total indifference to tht 
 spiritual duties of their calling. Many of them seem 
 to consider, that they arc appointed to a life of sloth 
 and inactivity, or merely to feed upon the fat of the 
 land} and that in return for immense and growing 
 
Non-Residence of the English Clergy. tot> 
 
 revenues they have only to gabble through a few for- 
 mal offices" &c. Many exceptions indeed he speaks 
 of, and congratulates us on the learning and piety of 
 many in the higher offices of the church. "But for 
 all this I fear a great proportion of the Clergy are the 
 very reverse of these high examples and betray art 
 indifference of conduct, and dissoluteness of manners, 
 which, whilst it is most shameful to them, would not 
 be borne ^ith in any other state of life." He then 
 talks of "the reverend associates, and abettors, of pub- 
 lic corruption and profligacy, walking about our 
 streets, unsilenced, and unchastised. A horse race, a 
 fox chase, or a boxing match, is never without its rev- 
 erend attendants; and the man, who in the house of 
 God hurries over the offices of devotion, as beneath 
 his attention, will be seen the next day the noisy toast- 
 master, or songster, of a club." "Their professional 
 indolence, but one degree removed from positive mis- 
 conduct," he next contrasts with "their occasional ac- 
 tivity at a county election in a cathedral county town, 
 You have the honour of finding yourself in such con- 
 tests acting in concert with deans, chancellors, arch- 
 deacons, prebendaries, and minor-canons without 
 number. On such occasions grave, very grave, per- 
 sons are to be seen, shouting the chorus of some cle( 
 tion ribaldry, whose zeal, or even common industry 
 upon more important topics he had never witness- 
 ed."" pp 3740. 
 
 After attributing the success of the dissenters tq 
 the luke-warmness of the established clergy, our wri- 
 ter proceeds, in page 60, to state "/Ac great abuse of 
 single duty some-times only every other Sunday;" 
 which he declares to be the case in as great a propor- 
 tion of livings above, as below, five hundred pounds 
 
g Neglect of Duty by the English Clergy. 
 
 per annum, Advertisements to this effect he men- 
 tions, though perfectly irregular, yet as appearing in 
 the very face of the diocesan, &c." "Of the manner, 
 and the time, also, in which single duty is performed, 
 it is equally necessary to speak; often at ten, some- 
 times at nine, in the morning; leaving all the rest of 
 the day to revelling and drunkenness, or, what is more 
 common now, to the itinerant enthusiast. And as to 
 manner; A clergyman, who gallops to the church, 
 gallops through the service, and gallops away 
 again, is generally too unique in his ideas to con- 
 form to others, though sworn to obey them; and has 
 of course a liturgy and a rubric of his own. The 
 Decalogue is hurried over in the desk with as little 
 ceremony, as the detail of a fox chase. And in many 
 parishes the whole morning service does not (includ- 
 ing the sermon) occupy three quarters of an hour. 
 The infrequency of the sacrament is likewise alluded 
 to, and the excuse justly reprobated, that there are no 
 communicants, which only implies a further neglect 
 in the clergyman also the neglect of catechizing con- 
 trary to "the Methodists." There a great part of the 
 Sabbath is set apart for the instruction of children in 
 their particular tenets. And often, while the parish 
 priest is lolling on his sofa, after the imaginary fa- 
 tigues of his unusual exertions, under his very nose 
 are these intruders zealously undermining the estab- 
 lishment, which gives him bread." Original compo- 
 sition, it is next observed, is scarcely known among 
 them; and even their selections are represented as in- 
 judicious, and so often repeated, as to be quite famil- 
 iar to the audience. And finally, "pastoral visits are 
 not only greatly neglected, or wholly discontinued, 
 but even their obligation is denied; and the clergy are 
 
Neglect of Duty by the English Clergy. 07 
 
 convinced that the duties of hospitality, and of domes- 
 tic instruction and consolation to the young, the de- 
 praved, the decrepid, and the dying, form no part of the 
 demands which their parishioners have upon them. w 
 pp. 68 70. To all which the state of the London 
 clergy is represented as affording a faint, though lau- 
 dable exception." p. 74, &c. 
 
 Now, Sir, when "the principles of religion form, at 
 Cambridge no step whatever, and, at Oxford, a very 
 trifling one, to a degree;" when the student has "often 
 by Euclid alone attained that object, and become a 
 candidate for holy orders;' 7 when "so very tax has 
 become the examination for orders, that there is no 
 man, who has taken a degree at the university, who 
 cannot reckon on ordination as a certainty, whatever 
 his attainments in learning, morals, or religion;" when 
 "the only qualifications are to be able to construe a 
 chapter in the Greek Testament, and answer a few 
 questions out of Grotius;" when one of these young 
 men to the question, "Who was the Mediator be- 
 tween God and man?" answered "The Archbishop of 
 Canterbury," what must be the future character of 
 the Clergy, thus inducted into their sacred office? 
 Must not "a great proportion of them be, as asserted 
 by this Letter- writer, "a set of men, wrapt up in secu- 
 lar pursuits, with a total indifference to the spiritual 
 duties of their calling?" Is it strange, that "many of 
 them seem to consider that they are appointed to a 
 life of sloth and inactivity, or merely to feed upon the 
 fat of the land; and that in return for immense and 
 growing revenues they have only to gabble through a 
 few formal offices? Can we be surprised that the rev- 
 erend associates, and abettors, of public corruption 
 and profligacy walk about your greets, unsilenced 
 
08 Neglect of Duty by the English Clergy. 
 
 and unchastised; that a horse race, a fox chase, or a 
 boxing match," which I suppose are in the list of 
 clerical amusements in Great Britain, "is never with- 
 out its reverend attendants, and that the man, who in 
 the house of God hurries over the offices of devotion, 
 as beneath his attention, will be seen the next day, 
 the noisy toast-master, or songster of a clubV Are we 
 to be astonished, when we consider "their professional 
 indolence, but one degree removed from positive mis- 
 conduct, as a contrast to their occasional activity at a 
 county election in a cathedral county town; or that in 
 such contests you have the honour of finding yourself 
 acting in concert with deans, chancellors, archdea- 
 cons, prebendaries and minor-canons without num- 
 ber; or that on such occasions grave, very grave, 
 persons are to be seen, shouting the chorus of some 
 election ribaldry?" 
 
 Can you, Sir, can any Englishman, wonder, that, 
 when such is the manner of induction into the sacred 
 office, ^'single duty should be sometimes performed on- 
 ly every other Sunday, at ten, or even at nine, in the 
 morning, leaving all the rest of the day to revelling and 
 drunkenness; or that a Clergyman, 'who gallops to the 
 church, gallops through the service, and gallops away 
 again; that he has a liturgy and rubric of his own; 
 that the Decalogue is hurried over in the desk with 
 as little ceremony as the detail of a fox chase; that in 
 many parishes the whole morning service does not 
 (including the sermon) occupy three quarters of an 
 hour; that the sacrament should be unfrequently ad- 
 ministered, and that it should be alleged, as an excuse, 
 that there are no communicants; or that original 
 composition is scarcely known among these Minis- 
 ters: that even their selections are injudicious; and se 
 
Neglect of Duly by the English Clergy. 69 
 
 often repeated, as to be quite familiar to the audience; 
 or that pastoral visits should not only be greatly neg- 
 lected, or wholly discontinued, but even their obliga- 
 tion be denied; or that the Clergy should be convin- 
 ced, that the duties of hospitality and of domestic in- 
 struction and consolation to the young, the depraved, 
 the decrepid, and the dying, form no part of the de- 
 mand, which their parishioners have upon them?" 
 
 To these remarks, the Letter-writer mentions the 
 London Clergy as affording a faint, though laudable 
 exception. Is it, then, true, Sir, that the London 
 Clergy furnish the only exception, found in any con- 
 siderable body of your ministers, to such a story as 
 this? And is that only exception a faint one? What 
 man, Sir, besides a Reviewer, and he, sheltered under 
 his anonymous character, could ever be induced, with 
 this picture of the Clergy in his own country before 
 him, to attack, or even to censure, those of any other 
 country? Where is the country, of which this story 
 could be truly told a second time? 
 
 With these things in view, the account of Lord Har- 
 rowby, in itself apparently surpassing all belief, is easily 
 explained. It ceases to be a matter of astonishment, 
 that many of your Clergy should be non-residents. 
 We should not, indeed, suspect, nor without the most 
 authentic and decisive information believe, that the 
 number of unprincipled Clergymen, so forcibly char- 
 acterized by the Letter- writer, could, out of eleven 
 thousand one hundred and sixty-four, be six thousand 
 one hundred and twenty-four. The fact is wonderful. 
 The number of instances, to which it is extended, is 
 portentous. Most ardently must every good man wish, 
 that it may be rapidly diminished. 
 10 
 
70 Merchants of the United States. 
 
 In answer to all these observations you may possi- 
 sibly ask how great a proportion of Ministers are non- 
 residents in the United States. In New England 
 there is not one: there never was one: and, so far as 
 my knowledge extends, there is not one in any part of 
 the American Union. I speak of regular and settled 
 Ministers, and not of Methodists, and other wander- 
 ing preachers, professedly unsettled. Our Ministers, 
 also, perform all the duties, which the Letter-writer 
 complains of, as being neglected by yours. They 
 preach sermons, composed by themselves, twice every 
 Sabbath. They are not guilty of what the Christian 
 Observer calls "that very pernicious ministerial de- 
 linquency; preaching habitually other compositions 
 than their own" " This practice," says the able Re- 
 viewer of the Letters above mentioned, "fraught with 
 every deadening principle, and whose only excuse is 
 that which intimates a man to be no credit to his pro- 
 fession, is, we verily think, the only means, by which 
 the last degree oj ignorance and insensibility can be 
 made compatible with the sacred office" This prac- 
 tice, Sir, would ruin any man, who appeared in the 
 desk, and has neither credit, nor place, here. 
 
 "The Merchants of the United States, with the ex- 
 ception of New England" you say, "are a very dif- 
 ferent class of men from those, who follow that pro- 
 fession in Europe" As a Yankee, I might fairly ex- 
 cuse myself from paying any attention to this subject; 
 and leave it to the merchants in the other parts oif the 
 Union to defend themselves. I will, however, make 
 a few observations concerning this professedly superi- 
 our character of your merchants. 
 
 Liverpool, the second trading town in England, 
 has derived a great part of its wealth, and even of its 
 
English Merchants. 71 
 
 existence, from the most abominable of all traffic; that 
 which is charged upon Babylon, in the Apocalypse, as 
 one of its tremendous crimes; dealing "in slaves, and 
 the souls of men." You will perhaps say, and may 
 undoubtedly say with truth, that the Americans have 
 been guilty of the same traffic. But, Sir, this traffic 
 has here been confined to a few spots, and a very few 
 hands; and, since we have had power to punish it, to 
 such hands only as the diligence of law could not 
 seize: an evil, which will certainly create no surprise 
 in a country, where smuggling is so extensively carri- 
 ed on, as in Great Britain, Your little finger has 
 been thicker than our loins. Such has been the fact 
 from the date of our independence. 
 
 Of the trade, which about the year 1810 you carri- 
 ed on with France, your own writers declare,* that 
 "it was carried on by means avowedly fraudulent; 
 with false oaths and forged certificates; and diffus- 
 ed profligacy and corruption through the different 
 ranks of the mercantile world; that those employed 
 in it, were a various and motley race of men, possess- 
 ing, many of them, a strange ubiquity of character; 
 were Jews and Gentiles; traders who were at once 
 Englishmen and Americans; transforming themselves 
 into every imaginable shape, as the occasion might re- 
 quire." They say, "this commerce was carried on 
 through the medium of false custom-house entries, or 
 declarations, made either by the merchants, or those 
 employed by them" "Many of the captains, employ- 
 ed by your merchants," they say, "were placed in the 
 unhappy predicament of being obliged to substantiate, 
 by oat h, any false declaration, which had been p 
 
 < istian Observer. 
 
72 English Merchants. 
 
 ously made concerning the subject of commerce.^ 
 They also say, that the practice of using false papers, 
 at sea, was another subject for animadversion: and 
 one of your writers says, he had heard, that "rt manu- 
 factory of these documents was carried on to a prodi- 
 gious extent by certain individuals, who were welt 
 skilled in the art of forging them" He subjoins, 
 "there are a thousand other frauds, subterfuges, and 
 contrivances, by which commercial objects are pursu- 
 ed in these unhappy days of the mutual prohibition of 
 traffic among nations. Property, it is pleaded, must 
 be covered. He, that pushes British manufactures 
 into the Continent, is called a benefactor to his coun- 
 try; but there is a whole mystery of iniquity which 
 involves many of these transactions; and few, as I 
 fear, among our foreign merchants, are now able to 
 say, that they "have the testimony of their con- 
 sciences, that in simplicity, and godly sincerity, they 
 have their conversation in the world." 5 ' 
 
 Circumstanced as this subject is, it will be sufficient 
 to have made these observations. What would have 
 been its appearance, had you traced its serpentine 
 progress, through all the various windings, with the 
 same spirit, with which you have attacked the people 
 of the United States? 
 
 From your coflection of travellers, you then proceed 
 to give an account of the Morals, and Manners, of 
 the inhabitants of this country. Your first complaint 
 is of our Landjobbers. In behalf of these men, 1 have 
 little to say; and concerning most of them entertain 
 an opinion, as unfavourable as yours. The number 
 of them is inconsiderable. Some of them are proba- 
 bly, indeed 1 know some of them to be, men of irre- 
 proachable characters. Others are rogues: and your 
 
Manners in the United S fates. 73 
 
 countrymen, as well as mine, have suffered severely 
 from their frauds. Both have, therefore, a right to 
 complain, without any animadversion from me. At 
 the same time you have no lands for sale, by the pur- 
 chase of which men can become landjobbers; and, 
 therefore, are on this score safe from any censure. 
 But, Sir, from this inconsiderable number of men, 
 amounting probably to less than five hundred in the 
 United States, you ought not to have taken the char- 
 acter of a nation. 
 
 You then inform us, that "the moment a foreigner 
 sets his foot on the quay, he is surrounded by a set of 
 idlers, who very familiarly ask him a thousand ques- 
 tions," of which you give us a string sufficiently long. 
 Permit me to inform you, Sir, that if you believe this 
 tale of a cock and a bull, your confidence has been 
 abused; and that such a set of questions was never 
 asked of any foreigner, in these circumstances, since 
 America was discovered. Foreigners are here treated 
 with more civility than they ordinarily meet with in 
 England, and with incomparably more than most of 
 those, who visit us, deserve. 
 
 "The unfortunate man," you then inform us, "has- 
 tens to make his escape to the tavern, Here," you say, 
 "he is forthwith beset by a swarm of speculators, of a 
 superiour order. Having run the gauntlet through 
 these, he is left, but, alas! not to a quiet fireside, and a 
 solitary meal. His landlord and landlady," you say, 
 in language, sufficiently coarse, "seat themselves at 
 table with him, together with their dirty children, and 
 perhaps too with their servants; and the children seize 
 the stranger's drink, slobber in it, and often snatch a 
 dainty bit from his plate." More quotations are. I 
 presume, unnecessary. 
 
74 American Taverns. 
 
 AH this you have said with Lambert in your hands: 
 for you have quoted from him a passage, whieh you 
 thought might aid your attempts to scandalize this 
 country. Had you possessed the least candour, you 
 could not, I think, have failed, (in the midst of the 
 numerous aspersions, which you have heaped together 
 from every dirty source, within your reach,) to quote 
 the following passages from that sensible and fair- 
 minded writer. 
 
 "Much has been said by former travellers of the 
 familiarity, and rudeness, of the American people. 
 I will not attempt to contradict their assertions; but 
 for myself I must declare, in justice to the American 
 character; that I experienced the utmost civility and 
 even politeness from the inhabitants in every part of 
 the country through which I travelled. The coach- 
 men were civil, and the tavern-keepers attentive; and 
 wherever I had occasion to mix with the country peo- 
 ple, I never met with the least rudeness, or shadow oj 
 impertinence on any occasion: on the contrary, they 
 were civil and obliging." 
 
 "At the taverns and farm houses, where we rested on 
 the road, we found the people extremely civil and atten- 
 tive. We were treated with as much respect, as if we 
 had been at our own houses: and the landlord, his wife, 
 and daughters, waited on us in the most obliging 
 manner. I do not mention this as a solitary instance: 
 it was general, at every house, wJiere we stopped. 
 Neither have I drawn my conclusions merely from 
 the reception, I met with at taverns, and other places 
 of public resort, but from my observations upon the 
 people in general, with whom / had frequent opportu- 
 nities of mi{cing, whet her they belonged to the highest, 
 f)r the lowest, orders of the community. I believe it 
 
American Taverns. 75 
 
 is generally allowed, that for a traveller, who wishes 
 to make himself master of the real character and dis- 
 position of a people, it is not sufficient, that he asso- 
 ciates only with the grandees of a nation. He must 
 mix with the plebeians: otherwise he acquires but false 
 ideas of the country, and its inhabitants. u The great 
 mass of nations," says Dr. Johnson, "are neither rich 
 nor gay. They, whose aggregate constitutes the peo- 
 ple, are found in the streets and the villages, in the 
 shops and the farms: and from them, collectively con- 
 sidered, must the measure of general prosperity be 
 taken." From these I have judged of the real char- 
 acter of the Americans; and I found it as difficult to 
 discover a single particle of rudeness, in the beha- 
 viour of the men, as it was to discover an ugly face, 
 or bad teeth among the young women."* 
 
 I hope, Sir, these testimonies from the only British 
 traveller in the U. S. within my information, who has 
 united intelligence, candour, and veracity, will be ad- 
 mitted even by you, as a proof that the senseless, and 
 brutal calumnies, which you have assembled with so 
 much diligence, are not a just representation even of 
 American taverns. 
 
 Our inns, I feel assured, are inferiour to yours;f but 
 J am informed by authority, which, if I were to name 
 it, even you would respect, that they are superiour to 
 those of any country on the European Continent. At 
 
 * Lambert, vol. iii, p. 98. 
 
 f "It is not common to find poor inns in England; but in this instance w were 
 served with miserable tea, and miserable bread, and attended by a surly waiter. 
 I came to the house with extreme fatigue, and left it with extreme disgust." 
 Sill. Journ. See on this subject the travels of M. Jllorier, a Prussian Clergy- 
 man. The truth is; the inns in England are good wherever there is sufficient 
 travelling, (and that of Avealthy people,) to support the expense of costly accom- 
 modations: where there is not, they are bad; as in other countries. 
 
76 American Taverns. 
 
 the same time your inns are enormously expensive; 
 and may well afford to furnish many gratifications to 
 an epicure, which are not found, because they cannot 
 be afforded, in ours. Our inn-keepers cannot build 
 so large houses, and of course cannot furnish such a 
 multitude of rooms; nor can they keep such a train of 
 servants. Travellers, here, are not generally rich 
 enough, to be at the expense of such costly accommo- 
 dations. 
 
 Concerning the food in our inns, take, if you please, 
 the account given by Lambert.* "We put up for the 
 night at a very good tavern, where we were supplied 
 with an excellent supper, composed of as great a vari- 
 ety as we met with for breakfast at Shelburne, and 
 which is customary at all the taverns throughout the 
 northern States" 
 
 Again. "At the better sort of American taverns, or 
 hotels, very excellent dinners are provided, consisting 
 of almost every thing in season. The hour is from 
 two to three o'clock; and there are three meals in a day. 
 They breakfast at eight o'clock, on rump -steaks, fish, 
 eggs, and a variety of cakes, with tea or coffee. The 
 last meal is at seven in the evening; and consists of as 
 substantial fare as the breakfast, with the addition of 
 cold fowl, or ham, &c. The price of boarding at 
 these houses is from a dollar and a half to two dollars 
 per day. Brandy, hollands, and other spirits, are al- 
 lowed at dinner; but every other liquor is paid for 
 extra. English breakfasts, and teas, generally speak- 
 ing, are meagre repasts, compared with those of Amer- 
 ica: and, as far as I had an opportunity of observing, 
 the people live, with respect to eating, in a much more 
 
 * Vol. K, p. 122. 
 
English Taverns. 77 
 
 luxurious manner than we do; particularly in the great 
 towns and their neighbourhoods."* 
 
 The price of your accommodations would certainly 
 furnish very genteel living in this country. They are 
 stated by the American traveller, whose Journal I 
 have several times quoted, at the following rates; 
 
 I. s. d. 
 
 Bed, - - 1 6 
 
 Breakfast of tea, or coffee, with toast, and 
 
 an egg, 1 8 
 
 Tea at evening, - 018 
 
 Dinner, of two dishes, with a frugal desert, 050 
 Glass of beer, - 008 
 
 Bottle of Sherry, - - 060 
 
 Of Port, . 050 
 
 Of Madeira, - 090 
 
 Waiter, 3d a meal, - 9 
 
 Chambermaid,each night,for making your bed, 006 
 Boots, for every pair of shoes, and boots, 
 
 which he brushes, 002 
 
 Ostler, each night, 006 
 
 Porter for carrying baggage, in and out, 006 
 
 And these are the lowest rates, which a gentleman 
 
 ean possibly pay; and none of them can be refused. 
 
 I have stated these rates, also, at the lowest esti- 
 mates, mentioned by this gentleman. This, Sir, 
 makes the ordinary expense of a traveller, with one 
 horse, and without a servant, a guinea a day at a 
 moderate computation; or more than one thousand 
 seven hundred dollars a year. This sum, in America, 
 at least in New England, would purchase a very libe- 
 ral supply of Epicurean enjoyments for a large family. 
 
 * Lambert, TO!, ii, p, 132. 
 11 
 
38 English Taverns. 
 
 Less than half of it does actually purchase them foi" a 
 single traveller. 
 
 But there is another fact, which illustrates this sub- 
 ject in a different manner. "The servants at the pub- 
 lic houses in England" says the gentleman, mention- 
 ed above, "are paid by the guests, and not by their em- 
 ployers. They not only receive no wages, but many 
 of them pay a premium for their places: that is, the 
 masters of tne hotels farm out to their servants the priv- 
 ilege of levying contributions; and the consideration 
 is their service. At our hotel ( The Liverpool Arms) 
 the chief waiter assured us, that he paid one hundred 
 pounds per annum for his place, besides paying two 
 under waiters, and finding all the clothes brushes, and 
 some other et ceteras of the house. He had moreover, 
 if we might credit his story, a wife and five children 
 to support. The head waiters are commonly young 
 men of a genteel appearance, and often dress as well 
 as gentlemen."* 
 
 Were the servants in our inns to pay for their 
 places, we might undoubtedly be furnished with an 
 assortment of them for every inn upon very easy 
 terms. But the custom of taxing travellers in this 
 manner is unworthy of the character of a civilized 
 nation; a despicable mode of plundering strangers by 
 a set of harpies. 
 
 The remaining part of your Review, Sir, is chiefly 
 made up of attacks, founded on the Works of Ashe. 
 Janson, Porcupine, and Priest. I am not in posses- 
 sion of Priest's Travels; and can, therefore, say noth- 
 ing concerning them. With Porcupine you are suf- 
 ficiently acquainted. The works of the other writers 
 
 * SilL Jonrn. vol. i. 
 
American Women. 7D 
 
 are as little entitled to credit as those of Sir John 
 Mandeville, of whom I remember to have seen this 
 character given, when I was a boy, that he was the 
 greatest traveller and the greatest Iiar 9 in the world. 
 
 You accuse us of having civil and military officers 
 for our inn-keepers. I admit the charge, that such 
 persons are in some instances found in this list. Pray, 
 Sir, will you please to inform me what there is in the 
 fact, disgraceful either to them, or to the country. Inn- 
 keepers are, here, generally men of very fair reputa- 
 tion; and why they may not hold these offices, and 
 keep inns, at the same time, cannot be explained; un- 
 less you can prove that your manners, only, are right ? 
 and that we are obliged to conform to them.* 
 
 Your attack on the Women of this country is 
 equally false, and brutal. I have heard an advanta- 
 geous character of the women of Great Britain; and 
 believe it to be just: but I fear not the result of a com- 
 parison between the fair sex in this country and in 
 any other. There is no country on the globe, where 
 women are more unspotted, more delicate, or more 
 amiable. Had you resided here long enough to form 
 an opinion, you would blush, to your dying day, for 
 the foul treatment, which they have received from 
 you. A countryman of yours has characterized them 
 in the following manner. 
 
 "The females of the New England States are con- 
 spicuous for their domestic virtues. Every thing in 
 their houses has an air of cleanliness, order, and cecou- 
 
 * In a debate in the House of Commons, June 1805, Co!. CraieforJ, in a la- 
 boured attack oh the Volunteer system, sneered at the Officers of the Volunteer 
 : orps because they were frequently taken from humble life. A London Pastry 
 Cook, he declared, was, within his knowledge, a Colonel of Voluntcerx. Loiv> 
 Castlereagh, who replied to him, did not deny the fact. It would be difficult to 
 assign a reason, why an American Inn-keeper may not command a regiment <' 
 uUitia with as much propriety as an English Pastry ' 
 
80 American Women. 
 
 omy, that display the female character to the greatest 
 advantage. The young women are really handsome. 
 They have almost all fair complexions, often tinged 
 with the rosy bloom of health. They have generally 
 good, and sometimes excellent teeth. Nor did I see 
 m< re instances to the contrary among the young wo- 
 men of America than are to be met with in England. 
 Their light hair is tastefully turned up behind in the 
 modern style, and fastened with a comb. Their dress 
 is neat, simple, and genteel; usually consisting of a 
 printed cotton jacket with long sleeves, a petticoat of 
 the same, with a coloured cotton apron, or pin cloth, 
 without sleeves, tied tight, and covering the lower part 
 of the bosom. This seemed to be the prevailing dress 
 in the country places. Their manners are easy, affable, 
 and polite, and free from all uncouth rusticity. Indeed 
 they appear to be as polished and well bred, as the 
 ladies in the cities, although they may not possess 
 their highly finished education."* 
 
 These observations are unquestionably just, and fall, 
 in various respects, not a little short of the truth. Do- 
 mestic happiness, if the accounts given to mankind of 
 the state of society on the Eastern Continent, by wri- 
 ters of acknowledged respectability, are to be credited, 
 does not exist in any part of the Transatlantic world 
 so generally, or in so high a degree, as in this coun- 
 try. Whatever faults may attach to the male inhab- 
 itants of the United States, the female sex merit the 
 highest estimation for all those attributes, which ren- 
 der women deserving and lovely. 
 
 Your next remarks are on the slavery of the Blacks 
 in the Southern States: a subject, which you have 
 
 * Lambert, vol. iii. p. 105. 
 
Slavery and the Slave- Trade. 81 
 
 touched upon before, and in the mention of which 
 you must be confessed to be unhappy: I do not mean 
 in censuring the African slave trade, or the manner in 
 which the slaves are treated.* To these subjects I 
 make you cordially welcome. They are the proper 
 themes of every moralist: and no severity, with which 
 they are treated, will draw from me a single animad- 
 version. It is the attribution of these iniquities to the 
 Americans, with an intention to make them a charac- 
 teristical disgrace peculiar to them, of which I com- 
 plain. Surely when you wrote this passage you forgot 
 how lately you have begun to wash yourselves clean 
 from this smoke of the bottomless pit. Please, Sir, to 
 take a short trip to Liverpool, and survey the hulks, 
 which, probably in great numbers, are even now rott- 
 ing in the docks of that emporium of African com- 
 merce. Then look around upon the numerous splen- 
 did buildings, public and private. Next, exclaim, 
 "These ships were the prisons, in which hundreds of 
 thousands of miserable Africans, after having been 
 kidnapped by avarice and cruelty, or taken captive in 
 war, kindled by the same insatiable spirit, and torn 
 for ever from their parents, husbands, wives, and chil- 
 dren, were transported across the Atlantic, to bon- 
 dage, and misery, interminable but by death. In 
 these floating dungeons, one fourth, one third, or one 
 half, of the unhappy victims to this infernal avarice 
 perished under the pressure of chains, or retted in the 
 pestilential steams, embosoming, as a vapour bath, the 
 niches, in which they were manacled. This work of 
 
 * The Southern Planter, who receives slaves from his parent by inheritance, 
 certainly deserves no censure for holding them. He has no agency in procuring 
 them: and the law does not permit him to set them free. If he treats them vi^h 
 humanity, and faithfully endeavours to Christianize them, he fulfils his duly, so 
 long as his present situation continues. 
 
82 British Slave-Trade. 
 
 death has been carried on, also, a century and a half. 
 What must have been the waste of mankind, which 
 it has accomplished! These houses, these public edi- 
 fices, nay, these temples, devoted to the worship of 
 the eternal GOD, with all their splendour, were built 
 of human bones, and cemented with human blood. 
 Rise, Sodom and Gomorrah; and whiten by the side 
 of men, baptized "in the name of the FATHER, and of 
 the SON, and of the HOLY GHOST."" 
 
 Are you at a loss, Sir, concerning the justice of this 
 representation? The records of your own Parliament 
 will furnish you with abundant and terrible evidence. 
 Look to the Report of the Committee of the House of 
 Commons. Look to the account, written by the ex- 
 cellent Clarkson. Look to the speeches of Mr. Wil- 
 berforce, the glory of your Parliament, and of your 
 country. Read the speech, which he delivered, April 
 2d, 1792. You will there read, "Europeans came on 
 the coast of Africa, and hovered like vultures, and 
 like vultures lived on blood. They ensnared at times, 
 and at times by force took away, the natives, and 
 sold them for slaves." Read the examples of villainy, 
 recited by him on this occasion, too long to be quoted 
 by me, and too dreadful to admit of a comment. He 
 there will tell you, that of six hundred and fifty 
 slaves, on board of one ship in the year 1788, one 
 hundred and fifty-five died; of four hundred and five 
 in another, two hundred died; of four hundred and 
 fifty in another, two hundred died: of four hundred 
 and two in another, seventy three died. 
 < From all these sources learn, also, the immense ex- 
 tent of this foul business; the amazing numbers of 
 imhappy wretches, who perished in it; the amazing 
 .numbers who lived, only to be made miserable: the 
 
British Slave- Trade . 8 3 
 
 portentous iniquity, with which it was carried on; and 
 the vast diilkulty, with which it was broken up. You 
 probably were present, as a member of your Parlia- 
 ment, during most, if not the whole, of the long strug- 
 gle, made by many of your Nobles, of high rank; 
 by your enlightened Statesmen; and by a numerous 
 train of your Gentlemen; not the fox-hunters, men- 
 tioned above, but men of education, of enlightened 
 and superiour minds, and possessed of an honourable 
 character among their countrymen; against the glori- 
 ous effort, made by Mr. Wilberforce and his coadju- 
 tors to terminate this demoniacal traffic. 
 
 But, Sir, in your zeal to heap scandal upon the 
 Americans, you appear to have forgotten, that you 
 have Colonies of your own; and that in these colo- 
 nies slavery exists in forms, and degrees, incompara- 
 bly more horrid, than in the Southern American 
 States. You have forgotten, that the enormous crimes 
 perpetrated in this system, are committed by native 
 Britons under your own eye, and beneath the con- 
 troul of your own Parliament. I shall take the liberty 
 to refresh your memory concerning this subject. 
 
 "To the disgrace of Great Britain. and her colo- 
 nies," says the Christian Observer for July 1811, "the 
 British slave code is more severe in its provisions 
 than perhaps any other. Compared with it, the code? 
 promulgated by the Spanish government, is freedom 
 itself." 
 
 Will you please, Sir, to cast your eye upon the 
 fifth report of the Directors of the African Institution? 
 read to the subscribers, March 27th, 1811. You will 
 there find, substantiated by evidence, which precludes 
 all doubt concerning the facts, that a Mr. Huggins, a 
 distinguished planter in Nevis, "went January 23d 
 
34 Slaver?/ in British Islands. 
 
 1810, attended by two of his sons on horseback, with 
 upwards of twenty slaves, men and women, in the 
 custody of drivers, through the streets of Charlestown 
 to the market place, and there proceeded to indulge 
 his cruelty to the utmost, during more than two 
 hours in the face of day, and in the sight and hearing, 
 not only of free persons, but of magistrates, who of- 
 fered him no interruption." 
 
 To one negro man he gave, by the hands of expert 
 drivers, lashes no less than - . 365; 
 
 To a second, - 115; 
 
 To a third, - 165; 
 
 To a fourth, - 252; 
 
 To a fifth, 212; 
 
 To a sixth, - -181; 
 
 To a seventh, - 187; 
 
 To a woman, - 110; 
 
 To a second, 58; 
 
 To a third, - - 97; 
 
 To a fourth, 212; 
 
 To a fifth, - 291; 
 
 To a sixth, 83; 
 
 To a seventh, 89; 
 
 The number of victims, thus specified, was 14. The 
 seven men received 1477 lashes; or 211 each, at an 
 average. The seven women received 940, or 134 
 each. All these were inflicted with a cail-whip. The 
 whole number of lashes was 2417; inflicted by expert 
 drivers; within the compass of somewhat more than 
 two hours; at the command, and under the eye, of 
 this devil in human shape, and of his two sons, whom 
 he brought to be witnesses of their father's character. 
 Even this is not all: "for he administered," says the 
 
Huggins and Hodge. 85 
 
 Report, "to various other woftien and men, various 
 other cruel measures of the same punishment, at the 
 same time." One of these miserable sufferers died, 
 soon after, of this merciless treatment. 
 
 Nor is this all. There were at this time seven mag- 
 istrates in Charlestotvn. Two of them, the Reverend 
 William Green, and the Reverend Samuel Lions, 
 each holding two livings in the Island, were within 
 hearing of the lash; and must have known of the cruel 
 and illegal cause; yet did not interpose. The same 
 was true of Dr. Cassin, a surgeon in that Island, who 
 was present at a part of this scene, and after having 
 counted 236 lashes, given to one negro, coolly said he 
 thought it was enough. Another Magistrate, Mr. Ed- 
 ward Huggins jun. looked on, the greatest; part of 
 the time. 
 
 If you will read a little farther, you will find, that 
 Mr. Huggins, the master, was acquitted by a jury, al- 
 though the facts were proved beyond a doubt, so as 
 not to be disputed, and although the slaves had been 
 guilty of no offence, of any importance. In addition to 
 this, the printer of the Gazette in St. Christopher's 
 was prosecuted by him for inserting in his paper the 
 minutes concerning this subject, sent to him by order 
 of the Assembly; was found guilty of publishing a li- 
 bel, issued by the House of the Assembly of Nevis, 
 and was sentenced to a month's imprisonment, and to 
 find bail, to keep the peace for three years 
 
 In the same Report you will find an account of a 
 man, that is a human body animated by a demon; a 
 planter of Tortola, named Hodge. This infernal 
 agent whipped twelve of his slaves so, that they died. 
 Down the throats of two females he poured a quanti- 
 ty of boiling water. A child he ordered to be dipped 
 12 
 
80 Hodge and Huggins. 
 
 in a copper of boiling liquor. Frequently he caused 
 the children on his estate to be taken up by the heels, 
 and dipped into tubs of water with their heads down- 
 wards, and kept there till they were stifled; then to be 
 taken out. and suffered to recover and breathe: when 
 they were again treated in the same manner: and so 
 repeatedly, until they have been seen to stagger, and 
 fall On this he has ordered them to be taken up and 
 suspended to a tree by their hands tied together, and in 
 this situation cart-whipped. Among others, a Mulat- 
 to child, reputed his own, named Bella, was repeated- 
 ly whipped by his order: and he was also seen repeat- 
 edly to strike the child with a stick on the head, so as 
 to break her head. 
 
 I presume, Sir, you ape tired of this tale. So am I. 
 I will only add, that, to the unspeakable joy of every 
 honest man, who has heard, or who ever will hear of it ? 
 this wretch, after many obstacles had been thrown in- 
 to the way of justice, was at last convicted, and hang- 
 ed. Amen, and Amen. 
 
 I hope, Sir, we shall never more hear any compart 
 son made between your slave holders and ours. Stig- 
 matize both as severely as you please: but let your 
 journalists, and your travellers, when they are brand- 
 ing ours with infamy, remember Hodge and Hug- 
 gins. 
 
 Permit me, at the end of this recital, to return my 
 most cordial thanks to the members of the African 
 Institution for their noble effort in behalf of these 
 abused people. The hand of God be with them, and 
 make their way prosperous. 
 
 Your next topic of scandal is the state of those, 
 whom you call Redemptioners', persons, who, wishing 
 to come to America, and not having sufficient proper- 
 
Irish Redemptioners. S7 
 
 ty to pay their passage, agree with the captain of the 
 ship to become bound, as servants, for such a period 
 of time as that their service will amount to the sum, 
 which they have engaged to pay. These men are 
 usually, though not always, inhabitants of Ireland. 
 If you really think their case a hard one, why do you 
 not prohibit it by your laws? Nothing is easier. 
 Make the transaction penal on the part of the cap- 
 tains. The Americans will thank you for such a law. 
 Whatever you may think, Sir, we are not gratified by 
 the transportation of these people into our country. 
 
 But, Sir, you totally mistake the facts in your ap- 
 prehensions concerning the condition of these people 
 in America. They are neither more nor less than 
 hired men and women; no more slaves; no more op- 
 pressed; nor in any respect treated with any more un- 
 kindness. In all respects they are as well situated as 
 hired Americans; and have as little reason to com- 
 plain of their circumstances, as any hired people in 
 the world. Believe me, Sir, your lamentations over 
 them are lost. They would only laugh at you for 
 your pains. 
 
 Another thing, which you attribute to us, is ihe 
 use of strong drink. From Mr. Lambert you take 
 an account, given to him by Mr. Bradley, (of the 
 American Senate,) which he applied exclusively to the 
 Virginians; and with the customary candour of your 
 journalists, and travellers, when speaking of America, 
 you apply it t the whole people of the United States. 
 Had Mr. Lambert known Mr. Bradley, he would 
 have perceived, that the whole story was no more than 
 a piece of characteristical sport, intended merely to 
 amuse his fellow travellers, 
 
88 Consumption of Ardent Spirits. 
 
 But I readily acknowledge, that far more spirit^ 
 both ferine ted and distilled, are drunk in this coun- 
 try than any man can justify. I hesitate not to pro- 
 nounce the practice, in the degree in which it exists, 
 both shameful and sinful. Yet nothing is more un- 
 just than your assertion, that "the love of ardent spirits 
 prevails pretty generally throughout all classes,* 7 or, 
 (as you prefer the language,) "throughout the whole 
 unclassified, and indivisible community. " The inhab- 
 itants of New England, for example, are, I strongly 
 suspect, much more temperate than those of Old Eng- 
 land; at least than those who come thence to America. 
 I have seen many representations on this subject, made 
 by your own countrymen; and have heard many, 
 made by mine. These could not be made with truth 
 concerning the inhabitants of New England. But we 
 need not have recourse to these, in order to settle this 
 point to our mutual satisfaction. I will barely turn 
 your attention to the "Stranger's Guide through Lon- 
 don" Here you will find, consumed annually in that 
 Metropolis, of Spirituous Liquors, 
 
 Gallons 11,146,782; 
 Wine, - - Tons, 32,000, or 
 
 Gallons, 8,064,000; 
 Ale and Porter, Bis. 1,113,500, or 
 
 Gallons, 35,632,000 
 
 The number of inhabitants in London, may, in 
 round i umbers, be estimated at 1,000,000. Every 
 one of these, if we average the quantity consumed, 
 drinks more than eleven gallons of Spirits, more than 
 eight of Wine,and more than thirty five of Ale and 
 Porter. More than half of this number is, however, com* 
 posed of children, and of such women as drink none. 
 Accordingly, the estimate to each individual of the re- 
 
Consumption of Ardent Spirits. 89 
 
 tnaining 500000, is twenty two gallons of Spirits, 
 sixteen of Wine, and seventy of Ale and Porter; or 
 one hundred and eight gallons of strong drink to eve*- 
 ry individual. 
 
 The whole quantity of ardent Spirits, supposed by 
 the highest estimate to be imported into this country, 
 or manufactured by its inhabitants, was, in the year 
 1810, 33,000,000 of gallons. The number of inhab- 
 itants was, according to the census of the same year, 
 7,28^,903. Dropping the fraction, and stating the 
 number of inhabitants at seven millions, the number 
 of gallons, consumed by each individual, will, at an 
 average be rather more than four and a half; or, 
 (as half drink no ardent spirits,) rather more 
 than nine to each individual in the remaining 
 half. The quantity of Wine, consumed in this 
 country, is not so much as a fourth of the quanti- 
 ty of ardent Spirits; and that of Ale and Porter is tri- 
 fling in its amount. Two gallons to an individual, of 
 both, will be an ample allowance. We have, then, 
 rather more than eleven gailons of strong drink to, 
 each individual in the United States; and 108 gallons 
 to each Londoner: viz. nine gallons of ardent Spirits 
 to the American, and twenty two to the Londoner; 
 one gallon and a half of Wine to the American, and 
 sixteen to the Londoner; half of a gallon of Ale and 
 Porter to the American, and seventy to the Londoner. 
 
 At the same time it is to be remembered, that one 
 third of the inhabitants of this country have no othei' 
 drink beside ardent spirits, and water; and, therefore, 
 are justified to some extent in drinking spirits. The 
 people of the Northern States drink cider, as their 
 common beverage; but you need not be informed, 
 that cider is a weak liquor, compared with Ale 01 
 Porter. 
 
00 (Souging. 
 
 I presume, Sir, we shall hereafter hear no more eoiv 
 eerning the intemperance of the Americans from an 
 Englishman. Yet I acknowledge, that there is much 
 intemperance in this country; and that it deserves se- 
 vere reprobation, and demands the vigorous resistance, 
 as well as discountenance, of all good men. But 
 nothing is more untrue than your assertion, that "the 
 love of ardent spirits prevails pretty generally through 
 all classes." TSie farmers and mechanics of this 
 country, and the gentlemen, (for such, permit me 
 to say, there are in great numbers; as were you to re- 
 side here a little time, you would be obliged to con- 
 fess;) are as sober and temperate a body of people, as 
 can be found in the world, unless perhaps in France, 
 and possibly in some of the countries lying under a 
 hot climate. You will remember, that I am here 
 speaking of the Northern States. Of the temperance, 
 or intemperance, of the others I have very little 
 knowledge, except what is derived from the estimate 
 above. 
 
 After your eloquent account of our intemperance, 
 you summon up again the story of Gouging. Goug- 
 ing is as infamous and abominable a practice, as even 
 you can paint it; and you have my consent to attack 
 it as often, and as severely, as you please. So far as 
 J know, it has never crossed the Potowmac. As Ma- 
 ryland is a slave State I will, for the present, throw it 
 out of the computation. From Maryland northward, 
 where, it is presumed, not an instance of gouging has 
 happened since the first colonization of this country, 
 the free population amounts to 3,758,851. South of 
 this line the same population amounts to 2,258,430, 
 Let those, who are included in the latter sum, cleanse 
 their hands from the guilt and disgrace of this prac- 
 
Bull- Baiting. 91 
 
 tice, as well as they can. Among those, included in 
 the former sum, it is unknown: and therefore, the au- 
 thority of WdA and Gen. Bradley notwithstanding, 
 "gouging, kicking, and biting, are" not "allowed in 
 all our fights" 
 
 Of the number of our fights I will leave you to 
 judge, when I have informed you, that I am advanc- 
 ed far in life, and that I have travelled through a con- 
 siderable part of the Northern States, in both the old 
 and new settlements, in all directions, and that very 
 extensively; that I began this course at an early peri- 
 od of life, and that I have mixed freely, from the be- 
 ginning, with men of most descriptions; and yet never 
 saw but one quarrel between two adult individuals., 
 which came to blows, during the whole progress of 
 my life. Compare with this fact, Sir, your rencoun- 
 ters between Crib and Molyneaux, Mendoza and Hum- 
 phrey, arid a long train of other champions of the fist; 
 with your Gentlemen, Nobles, and Princes, assembled 
 to look on. Compare it with your bull-baiting; and 
 remember, if you please, the debate on this subject in 
 your Parliament; and the speech of Mr. Windham 
 on this occasion. Remember also the decision of that 
 august Body, sanctioning a practice, at which both 
 nature and decency revolt. 
 
 Let me inform you, Sir, that there never was a 
 bull-baiting in this country;* and that the inhabitants 
 regard the practice itself, the cold-blooded eloquence 
 of Mr. Windham, and the barbarous decision of your 
 Parliament with indignation and horror. 
 
 * Since these Remarks were finished, I have been informed, that a consider?. 
 We number of years since, there was a tall-baiting in AVrp York, and anetii<?* 
 Pennsylvania, 
 
92 British Manufacturers. 
 
 I could pursue this subject, Sir, and several others 
 connected with it, much farther; but it is unnecessa- 
 ry. I will, therefore, now proceed to take another 
 view of the general one of Morals and Manners; 
 and in doing this, will exhibit your Morals and Man- 
 ners, as you yourselves have presented them to the 
 world. 
 
 The gentleman, whose Journal I have several times 
 quoted, speaking of Manchester, says, "The wages of 
 the labouring manufacturers are high at present; but so 
 few of them lead sober and frugal lives, that they are 
 generally mere dependents on daily labour. Most of 
 the men are said to be drunkards, and the women dis- 
 solute"* 
 
 Espriella, speaking of Manchester, says, "These 
 children, then, said I, have no time to receive instruc- 
 tion. That, Sir, he replied, is the evil, which we have 
 found. Girls are employed here from the age you 
 see them, till they marry; and then they know noth- 
 ing about domestic work, not even how to mend a 
 stocking, or boil a potatoe. But we are remedying 
 this now; and send the children to school for an hour 
 after they are done work. I asked if so much con- 
 finement did not injure their health. "No," he repli- 
 ed; "they are as healthy, as any children in the world 
 could be." To be sure, many of them, as they grew 
 up, went off in consumptions; but consumption was 
 the disease of the English. I ventured to inquire af- 
 terwards concerning the morals of the people, who 
 were trained up in this monstrous manner; and found 
 what was to be expected, that in consequence of herd- 
 ing together such numbers of both sexes, who were 
 
 * Sitt, Journal. vl j. 
 

 British Manufacturers. 93 
 
 utterly uninstructed in the commonest principles of 
 religion and morality, they were as debauched and 
 profligate, as human beings, under the influence of 
 such circumstances, must inevitably be; the men 
 drunken, the women dissolute; that, however high 
 the wages they earned, they were too improvident 
 ever to lay by for a time of need; and that, though 
 the parish was not at the expense of maintaining them 
 when children, rt had to provide for them in diseases, 
 induced by their mode of life, and in premature de- 
 bility and old age. The poor rates were oppressively 
 high, and the hospitals and work houses always full 
 and overflowing. I inquired how many persons were 
 employed in the manufactory; and was told, children 
 and all, about two hundred. What was the firm of 
 the house? There were two partners. So, thought 
 I a hundred to one."* 
 
 The same writer, speaking of Birmingham, says, 
 "Our earth was designed to be a seminary for young 
 angels: but the devil has certainly fixed upon this spot 
 Jor his own nursery garden and hot- house." 
 
 "When we look at gold, we do not think of the 
 poor slaves, who dug it from the caverns of the earth; 
 but I shall never think of the wealth of England, 
 without remembering that I have been in the mines. 
 Not that the labourers repine at their lot; it is not the 
 least evil of the system, that they are perfectly well 
 satisfied to be poisoned, soul and body. Foresight is 
 not a human instinct: the more unwholesome the em- 
 ployment, the higher of course are the wages, paid to 
 the workmen; and, incredible as it may seem, a tri- 
 fling addition to their weekly pay makes these short- 
 
 * Esp. Letter 38. 
 
 13 
 
94 British Manufacturers. 
 
 sighted wretches contend for work, which they cer- 
 tainly know will, in a very few years, produce disease 
 and death, or cripple them for the remainder of their 
 existence," 
 
 "I cannot pretend to say, what is the consumption, 
 here, of the two legged beasts of labour; commerce 
 sends in no returns of its 'killed and wounded. Nei- 
 ther can I say, that the people look sickly, having 
 seen no other complexion in the place, than what is 
 composed of oil and dust, smoke dried. Every man, 
 whom I met, stinks of train oil and emery. Some I 
 have seen with red eyes and green hair; the eyes af- 
 fected by the fires to which they are exposed, and the 
 hair turned green by the brass-works. You would 
 not, however, discover any other resemblance to a 
 triton in them, for water is an element, with the use 
 of which, except to supply steam engines, they seem 
 to be unacquainted." 
 
 u The noise of Birmingham is beyond description. 
 The hammers vSeem never to be at rest. The filth is 
 sickening. Filthy as some of our own old towns may 
 be, their dirt is inoffensive: it lies in heaps, which an- 
 noy none, but those who walk within the little reach 
 of their effluvia. But here it is active, and moving; a 
 living principle of mischief which fills the whole at- 
 mosphere, and penetrates every where; spotting and 
 staining every thing, and getting into the pores and 
 nostrils. I feel as if my throat wanted sweeping, like 
 an English chimney." 
 
 Again. "A regular branch of trade here, is the 
 manufacture of guns for the African market. They 
 are made for about a dollar and a half: the barrel is 
 filled with water; and, if the water does not come 
 through, it is thought proof sufficient: of course they' 
 
British Manufacturers. 95 
 
 burst, when fired, and mangle the wretched negro, 
 who has purchased them upon the credit of English 
 faith, and received them, most probably, as the price 
 of human flesh! No secret is made of this abom- 
 inable trade; yet the government never interferes; and 
 the persons concerned in it are not marked, and shun- 
 ned as infamous." 
 
 "In some parts of Italy the criminal, who can prove 
 himself the best workman at any business, is favour- 
 ed, infavorem artis, unless his crime has been coiiv 
 ing: a useful sort of benefit of clergy. If ingenuity 
 were admitted as an excuse for guilt in this country, 
 the Birmingham rogues might defy the gallows. 
 Even as it is, they set justice at defiance, and carry on 
 the most illegal practices almost with impunity. Some 
 spoons, which had been stolen here, were traced im- 
 mediately to the receiver's house: "I know what you 
 are come for," said he to the persons, who entered the 
 room in search of them; "you are come for the 
 spoons:" and he tossed over the crucible into the fire, 
 because they were not entirely melted. The officers 
 of justice had received intelligence of a gang of coin- 
 ers; the building, to which they were directed, stood 
 within a court-yard; and, when they reached it. they 
 found, that the only door was on the upper story, and 
 could not be reached without a ladder. A ladder was 
 procured: it was then sometime before the door could 
 be forced; and they heard the people within mocking 
 them all this while. When at last they effected their 
 entrance, the coiners pointed to a furnace, in which 
 all the dies, and whatever else could criminate them, 
 had been consumed during this delay. The coins of 
 any country, with which England carries on any in- 
 tercourse, whether in Europe, Asia, or America,, are 
 
96 British Manufacturers. 
 
 counterfeited here, and exported. An inexhaustible 
 supply of half pence was made for home consump- 
 tion, till the new coinage put a stop to this manufac- 
 tory: it was the common practice of the dealers in 
 this article to fry a pan full every night after supper 
 for the next day's delivery, thus darkening, to make 
 them look as if they had been in circulation." 
 
 "Assignats were forged here during the late war; 
 but this is less to be imputed to the Birmingham spec- 
 ulators than to those wise politicians, who devised so 
 many wise means of ruining France. The forgery 
 of their own bank notes is carried on with systematic 
 precautions, which will surprise you. Information of 
 a set of forgers had been obtained, and the officers en- 
 tered the house: they found no person on any of the 
 lower floors; but when they reached the garret, one 
 man was at work upon the plates in the farthest 
 room, who could see them as soon as they had as- 
 cended the stairs. Immediately he opened a trap- 
 door, and descended to the floor below; before they 
 could reach the spot to follow him, he had opened the 
 second, and the descent was impracticable for them, 
 on account of its depth: there they stood, and beheld 
 him drop from floor to floor, till he reached the cel- 
 lar, and effected his escape by a subterraneous pas- 
 sage." 
 
 "You may well imagine what such people as these 
 would be in times of popular commotion. It was ex- 
 emplified in 1791. Their fury, by good luck, was in 
 favour of the Government; they set fire to all the 
 houses of all the opulent Dissenters, whom they sus- 
 pected of disaffection, and searched every where for 
 the heresiarch Priestley, carrying a spit about, on 
 which they intended to roast him alive. Happily for 
 
Colquhoun's Police of London. 97 
 
 himself, and for the national character, he had taken 
 an alarm, and withdrawn in time."* 
 
 These observations, Sir, are said to have been made 
 by a gentleman, reported, generally, to be one of the 
 writers in the Quarterly Review: their truth, therefore, 
 will hardly be disputed by you. 
 
 I might pursue the same course of illustration 
 through many other writers, and extend my quota- 
 tions to the size of a volume; but the tale would be 
 too tedious to be read, as well as too burdensome to 
 be written. I will, therefore, hasten it to a conclu- 
 sion. 
 
 In Colquhoutfs Police of London, a summary is 
 given to the world of the sorts of villainy, regularly 
 carried on in the Capital of the British Empire; the 
 boast, as well as the pride, of every Englishman. 
 This summary, as I, although an American, have 
 providentially had the means of knowing, was the re- 
 sult of the best information, which the nature of the 
 case will admit; better, probably, than ever was pos- 
 sessed by any other man; and is therefore to be re- 
 garded as authentic. Let me invite you to look at 
 the following table, copied from this very intelligent 
 Work. It contains the sorts of villains, which, like 
 spirits from the nether world, haunt that great city, 
 making it a second Pand&monium; and annexes to 
 each sort the number of wretches which it contains. 
 
 1. Professed thieves, burglars, highway rob- 
 bers, pickpockets, and river-pirates, 2,000 
 
 2. Professed receivers of stolen goods, 60 
 o. Coiners, &c. of base money, 3,000 
 
 Carried forward, 5,060 
 
 * Esp. Letter 36. 
 
98 Villains in the British Metropolis. 
 
 Brought forward, 5,060 
 
 4. Thieves, living partly by depredation, and 
 partly by their own labour, 8,000 
 
 5. River pilferers, 2,500 
 
 6. Itinerant Jews, employed in tempting oth- 
 ers to steal, 2,000 
 
 7. Receivers of stolen goods from petty pil- 
 ferers, 4,000 
 
 8. Suspicious characters, who live partly by 
 pilfering and passing base money, 1,000 
 
 9. Menials, who defraud their employers in a 
 little way, so as generally to elude detec- 
 tion, estimated at 3,500 
 
 10. Swindlers, cheats, and low gamblers, liv- 
 ing chiefly by fraudulent transactions in 
 
 the lottery, 7,440 
 
 14. Other classes of cheats, not included in 
 
 the above, 1,000 
 
 12. Dissolute publicans, who make their 
 houses rendezvous for thieves, swindlers, 
 
 and dealers in base money, 1,000 
 
 13. Inferior officers in the Customs and Ex- 
 cise, including supernumeraries and glut- 
 men, sharing the pillage, and frauds, com- 
 mitted on the revenue, estimated at 1,00.0 
 
 |4. Persons keeping chandlers' shops for the 
 sale of provisions to the poor, and cheating 
 their customers by false weights, 3 5 500 
 
 15. Suspicious servants out of place, princi- 
 pally from ill-behaviour and loss of charac- 
 ter, about 10,000 
 
 Carried forward, 50,000 
 
Villains in the British Metropolis. 99 
 
 Brought forward, 50,000 
 
 16. Black-legs, or proselytes to gaming, as a 
 
 trade, 2,000 
 
 17. Spendthrifts, and other profligate men, 
 seducing others to intemperance, lewdness, 
 debauchery, gambling, and excess, esti- 
 mated at 3,000 
 
 18. Foreigners, who live chiefly by gambling, 5,000 
 
 19. Bawds, who keep houses of ill-fame, &c. 2,000 
 
 20. Females, who support themselves chiefly, 
 
 or wholly, by prostitution,* 50,000 
 
 1. Dishonest strangers, out of employment, 1,000 
 
 22. Strolling minstrels, ballad- singers, show- 
 men, trumpeters, and gypsies, 1,500 
 
 23. Grubbers, and a long train of other low 
 pilferers, 2,000 
 
 24. Common beggars, 3,000 
 
 Total, 119,500 
 
 "This shocking catalogue," says the intelligent mag- 
 istrate, "does not include every fraud and dishonesty 
 which is practised." Yet here, Sir, is a list, which 
 holds out more than one ninth of the population of 
 your great city, as living by fraud, villainy, and pollu- 
 tion. What must be your feelings, Sir, when walk- 
 ing through the streets of London, to know that one 
 person, out of every nine whom you meet, is of this 
 character? 
 
 In the year, from September 1790, to September 
 1791, including 445 prisoners delivered over by the 
 Sheriffs of the preceding year, 1,533 were tried at the 
 
 * This is worse, Sir, than voting. 
 
100 Villains in the British Metropolis. 
 
 Old Bailey. Of these, 711 were acquitted, and 828 
 condemned. 
 
 Of these there were 
 1U for Murders, 
 4 Arson, 
 10 Forgeries, 
 9 Dealing in, and uttering, base money, 
 
 1 Sodomy, 
 
 2 Piracies, 
 4 Rapes, 
 
 642 Grand Larcenies, 
 
 32 Stealing privately from persons, 
 
 13 Shop- lifting, under five shillings, 
 
 16 Ripping and stealing Lead, 
 
 12 Stealing Pewter Pots, 
 
 22 Stealing from furnished Lodgings, 
 
 1 Stealing Letters, 
 
 1 Stealing a Child, 
 
 22 Receiving stolen goods, 
 
 7 Bigamy, 
 
 6 Perjuries, 
 
 6 Conspiracies, 
 
 3 Fraudulent Bankrupts, 
 15 Frauds, 
 
 9 Misdemeanours, 
 
 1 Assaulting, and cutting Clothes, 
 
 1 Smuggling, 
 
 7 Obstructing Revenue Officers, 
 
 1 Wounding a Horse maliciously, 
 38 Assaults. 
 
 895 Total. 
 
 Of these, thirty-two were executed: more, I sus- 
 pect, than have been executed for the same crimes in 
 
Public Crimes. 101 
 
 New England since the first Colonists landed at Ply- 
 mouth. Yet Mr. Colquhoun says, that this melan- 
 choly catalogue does not contain above one tenth part 
 of the offences, which were actually committed; so 
 that the real number of high crimes, actually perpe- 
 trated, was at least 10,880, Yet London contains but 
 a million of people; and New England, a million and 
 a half. A capital conviction is, here, a solitary thing; 
 existing but once in a considerable series of years. 
 
 You may possibly think, that the execution of our 
 laws is lax. You say this concerning the United States 
 at large: but it is not true concerning New England. 
 The disadvantage lies wholly on your side. A centu- 
 ry to come will hardly furnish such a list of criminals 
 in New England, as that which is here disclosed. A 
 single fact will show you the character of its inhab- 
 itants, as to their honesty. It is believed, that more 
 than one half of the families ordinarily go to bed with- 
 out bolting, or locking, their doors. Of what other 
 country can this be said? 
 
 I have observed, that executions are here solitary 
 events. Let me add, that a great proportion of the 
 miserable objects, who suffer capitally, are foreigners. 
 
 You ridicule Inchiquin for saying, that "there is no 
 populace in the United States, no Patrician, no Ple- 
 beian, no third or middle class." I need not inform 
 you, although you seem to be willingly ignorant of it, 
 that in every civilized country there must of necessity 
 be persons, and families, distinguished for superiority of 
 character, wealth, intelligence, refinement, station, and 
 influence. I presume, that Inchiquin intended noth- 
 ing more, than that we had no Nobles and no Peas* 
 antry. With his meaning, however, I have no con- 
 cern,; but, understood in this sense, the declaration is 
 14 
 
102 Condition of the People in New England. 
 
 substantially true. In our larger towns we have a 
 number of people, who are styled day-labourers; and 
 a very small number of these are thinly dispersed 
 throughout the country; but the whole amount is 
 inconsiderable. The public paupers in our country 
 towns do not, I am persuaded, exceed one in three 
 hundred of the inhabitants. In a number of these 
 towns there has never been an individual of this class. 
 Every man, with the exception of this inconsiderable 
 number, and a very few others, holds his lands in fee- 
 simple. Tenants are almost unknown. The people 
 are, as a body, what you call yeomanry; possessing 
 estates, on which they live in the enjoyment of com- 
 petence, and independence. These circumstances are 
 announced in the Scriptures as the safest, and happiest ? 
 for man: and with their testimony that of the ancient 
 Philosophers and poets, and that of the wise men in 
 your own Island, perfectly coincide. New England 
 furnishes no reason to distrust its truth. 
 
 Lands are here obtained with comparative ease; and 
 subsistence, both agreeable and abundant, is within 
 the reach of every person possessing health and hon- 
 esty, and even a moderate share of industry and econ- 
 omy. Very few therefore are poor; and even those, 
 ivho are styled such, are rich, in comparison with the 
 poor of Europe. Rarely are they without tea or cof- 
 fee for their breakfast, or without animal food, once ? 
 twice, or thrice every day. 
 
 At the same time, all these people can read, and 
 write, and keep accompts- There is scarcely a beg- 
 gar, or a black, who cannot. In this important par- 
 ticular, even you will acknowledge our superiority. 
 Recollect what efforts you have made to establish 
 Sunday schools in your Island; the associations, form- 
 
Education of the Poor. 
 
 tfd for their establishment; the difficulties, which they 
 had to overcome; and the exultation, which has 
 echoed throughout England upon the success, with 
 tvhich they have been attended. I give your coun- 
 trymen full credit for this Institution; and for the 
 good sense, liberality, perseverance, and patriotism, 
 with which it has been originated, and supported. 
 The authors, and friends, of it I hold in the highest 
 honour; and cordially wish them the richest blessings 
 of Heaven. But I need not inform you, that the ex- 
 istence of these schools; the discussions concerning 
 their nature, and use; the difficulties, which were to 
 te overcome; the numerous, and noble, efforts, to 
 which they have given birth; and the triumph of wis- 
 dom and benevolence, which they have furnished; 
 while they reflect immortal honour upon the name of 
 Hannah More, one of the brightest ornaments of the 
 human race, and upon all her illustrious coadjutors, 
 declare, also, in the strongest manner, the extreme ne- 
 cessity of extending this education to the English 
 poor, because they were before without education. 
 
 If you will cast your eye on Dr. Curries Life of 
 Burns, you will see, that he has mentioned New 
 England as one of the few privileged countries, in 
 which the education of parochial schools is commu- 
 nicated to the inhabitants universally. The King, and 
 the Nobles, Gentry and Clergy of Scotland, occupied a 
 century in establishing this Institution in that country. 
 The ancestors of New England commenced, and fin- 
 ished, it in a day; and their descendants have main- 
 tained, and extended, it to the present hour. 
 
 I believe the Nobility of Great Britain are indis- 
 pensable to the continuance of its government, safety, 
 and peace. But you cannot be ignorant of the 
 
104 English Nobility. 
 
 lufeness of manners, which so extensively prevails 
 among those, who form this distinguished order; and 
 is so often complained of by your writers, of high re- 
 spectability, and so often evidenced in your courts of 
 justice, in other causes, beside those of Crim. Con. 
 which are numerous, and deeply humiliating to your 
 national character. It cannot be necessary for me to 
 remind you of the private character of Mr Fox; him- 
 self, indeed, not a nobleman, yet of noble birth; or of 
 the imputations on Lord Melville. The history of 
 your Nobility, although there are many honourable 
 exceptions, is certainly not such, as to flatter the feel- 
 ings of a virtuous Englishman. Look at the Letters 
 of Juniiis. Look at the train of kept mistresses, at 
 this moment, and at every other in your history, which 
 they, and your GentVy, in great numbers, hold up to 
 the eye of the public, without a blush, or even an 
 apology: and then permit me to inform you, that I 
 do not know two persons, of this character, in New 
 England. 
 
 The Mediocrity of our circumstances has often 
 been an object of ridicule, as well as of contempt, with 
 Englishmen. Here, however, it is believed to be a 
 source of no small happiness to the inhabitants. 
 There is, it must be acknowledged, much less splen- 
 dour; much less to admire; much less to boast of. 
 There are fewer palaces; fewer stupendous public 
 buildings; fewer magnificent public works. But, Sir, 
 one rich rnan is always surrounded by many who 
 are poor; and one great man, by many who are little. 
 Wretchedness always follows in the train of pomp, 
 and rags and beggary haunt the mansions, as well as 
 the walks of pride and grandeur. If we have not 
 many opulent inhabitants; we have few, that are indi- 
 
Condition of the People in New England. 105 
 
 gent. If we have not palaces; we have few cottages. 
 One would think, that a benevolent man would feel 
 some satisfaction in looking around him, and seeing 
 competence and enjoyment diffused universally; in be- 
 lieving, that, exclusively of the unavoidable calamities 
 of this world, the multitude, and not merely a few 
 persons possessed of princely fortunes, were fed, and 
 clad, and lodged in a pleasant and desirable manner. 
 To me, no prospect, confined to this world, has been 
 so delightful, as that, which I am always sure to find, 
 when travelling in this country; the great body of the 
 inhabitants enjoying all the pleasure, furnished by 
 these very circumstances. Surely, Sir, even you must 
 be willing, that there should be one country of which 
 these things may be said with truth. 
 
 You may not unnaturally think this account an 
 exaggeration. Perhaps the following observations of 
 one of your own countrymen may convince you, that 
 it is not. 
 
 "Throughout the States of Connecticut, Massachu- 
 setts, and New York, a remarkably neat, and indeed 
 elegant style of Architecture and decoration seems to 
 pervade all the buildings in the towns and villages; 
 and, I understand, is more or less prevalent in the rest 
 of the Northern and Middle States. The houses in 
 the small towns and villages are mostly built of wood; 
 generally one or two stories above the ground floor: 
 The sides are neatly clap- boarded and painted white. 
 The sloping roofs are covered with shingles and paint- 
 ed of a state colour; and, with sash windows, green 
 Venetian shades outside, neat white railings, and steps, 
 have a pretty effect. Sometimes the entrance is orna- 
 mented with a portico. The churches, or as they are 
 oi'tener termed meetings, (meeting houses,) are con- 
 
106 Condition of the People in New England. 
 
 structed of similar materials, painted white, and fre- 
 quently decorated, like the houses, with sash windows 
 and green Venetian shades outside. The building is 
 also surmounted by a handsome spire or steeple, with 
 one or two bells. A small town composed of these 
 neat and ornamental edifices, and situated in the 
 neighbourhood of well cultivated farms, large fields, 
 orchards, and gardens, produces a most agreeable 
 effect, and gives the traveller a high opinion of the 
 prosperity of the country, and of the wealth of its in- 
 habitants. Indeed, those parts of the Northern and 
 Middle States, through which I travelled, have the 
 appearance of old, well settled countries. The towns 
 and villages are populous; provisions cheap and abun- 
 dant; the farms appear in excellent order: and the in- 
 habitants sober, industrious, religious, and happy."* 
 
 Permit me to add another shor t paragraph from the 
 same traveller. 
 
 "Through the whole of this journey of 240 miles, 
 from New York to Boston, I had passed over a most 
 beautiful tract of country, which, from the manners of 
 its inhabitants, the excellent order of its towns, villa- 
 ges, and buildings, its farms, and orchards, gardens, 
 pasture and meadow lands, together with the face of 
 the country, undulated with mountains, hills, plains, 
 and vallies, watered by a number of rivers, small lakes, 
 and streams, afforded a variety of the most beautiful 
 landscapes, and strongly reminded me of English 
 scenery ."t 
 
 Your next attack is upon a subject, which, I be- 
 lieve, no British Journalist, who has meddled at all 
 with America, and scarcely a single British traveller, 
 
 * Lambert, voL iii, p. 89, 9<X t Lambert, vol. iij, r 98 
 
Genius and Learning oj the Americans. 107 
 
 who has visited its shores, has passed by: the Genius 
 and Learning of this country. The observations, 
 made by those among your writers, who first handled 
 this part of the American character, have been regu- 
 larly thrummed over by all, who have followed them. 
 The story, Sir, has become absolutely stale: and, if 
 ^ou will permit me to advise, you will not repeat it 
 again until twelve months shall have fairly finished 
 their circle. It was a pleasant story enough at first, I 
 acknowledge; but a perpetual reiteration of the same 
 thing, however good it may be, will become rather 
 dull. Lest I should become so too, my strictures upon 
 them shall not be delayed by a long preface. 
 
 The observation, which you have quoted from the 
 Abbe Raynal, which has been written off in a succes- 
 sion, not much less repetitious, or protracted, than that, 
 in which school-beys of former times wrote "Com- 
 mand you may your mind from play " is a proof of 
 the Abbe's ignorance, or a specimen of his customary 
 indifference to truth. The two Edwardses, father and 
 son, have exhibited as high metaphysical powers, as 
 Europe can boast; and have thrown more light on 
 several abstruse subjects, of the highest importance, 
 than all the Philosophers of that continent and your 
 own Island, united. ? 
 
 With Mr. Barlow j s Columbiad you have a right to 
 take any decent liberty. He has treated your country 
 in such a manner, as to be lawful game to a Briton, 
 I shall, therefore, leave him in your hands. 
 
 After disposing of him, you say, "to Mr. Barlow's 
 Epic may be joined a Poem by a Mr. Fingal. No 
 ascendant," you say, "we believe, of the Caledonian 
 bard of that name*" You are perfectly right, Sir, in 
 your conjecture. The author is not a descendant of 
 
108 Mac Fingal. 
 
 Ossian, the Caledonian bard, to whom, I suppose you 
 refer, and who left no descendants. At least I see not 
 how he could have sprung from this bard, unless by a 
 Hybernian figure of speech. Nor was he a descend- 
 ant of the real Fingal; the father of this same bard. 
 The author, Sir, is a Mr. Trumbull, one of the judges 
 of the Supreme Court, of the State of Connecticut. It 
 was written, when he was a young man, in the year 
 1775. The name of the Poem, Sir, is Mac Fingal. 
 On this subject, as unhappily on many others, which 
 you have thought proper to handle, you have not 
 been well informed. Were you to read it, which from 
 your observations it is evident you have not done, you 
 would find, that it is a work, displaying fine talents, 
 a degree of wit, and of humour, also, rarely rivalled; 
 little inferiour in these respects to your celebrated Hu- 
 dibras; and in every other, far superiour. It is true 
 the sprightly excursions of the poet are sometimes di- 
 rected against Great Britain; as those of Butler are 
 against Presbyterians; but as I, a Presbyterian, can 
 laugh very heartily with Butler, so, undoubtedly, will 
 you be able to do with Trumbull; especially as the 
 prejudices of an American Presbyterian must be very 
 strong; and those of an English Episcopalian barely 
 exist; if, indeed, it can be tnjly said, that they exist at 
 all. At all events, Sir, read this poem, before you 
 write about it again; and, at least, learn its true name. 
 Concerning Dr. Franklin I shall make no other ob- 
 servations than that a multitude of your own writers, 
 and a multitude of others, in France and Germany, 
 have spoken of him in a very different manner 
 from that, in which you have chosen to speak, 
 and that you must permit me to believe, from the re- 
 
Dr. Rittenhouse. 109 
 
 marks which you have made, you are ignorant both 
 of the history, and of the science, of electricity. 
 
 Concerning Dr. Rittenhouse, your strictures are emi- 
 nently unfortunate. You say, that "Rittenhouse was 
 an Englishman, not an American" Dr. Rittenhouse 
 was born in Germantown, seven miles from Philadel- 
 phia; and was descended from ancestors, who came 
 into this country from Holland. He was bred to the 
 business of a plain farmer; and, while he was employ- 
 ed, when a boy, in the common pursuits of agricul- 
 ture, indicated a peculiar propensity to Mathematical 
 science by numerous Geometrical figures, which, for 
 want of better materials, he drew upon his plough, up- 
 on the fences, surrounding the field of his labour, and 
 even upon the stones, which it contained. A delicate 
 constitution compelled him to leave the farm, and to 
 betake himself to the business of making clocks, and 
 mathematical instruments. In both these arts he was 
 his own instructor. He invented the science of Flux- 
 ions; and for a considerable time did not know, that it 
 had any other author. Finding an English translation 
 of Neivton's Principia, he made himself master of this 
 abstruse work, when he could scarcely be said to have 
 reached manhood. 
 
 You say some hard, and impertinent, things of Mr. 
 Jefferson, because he asserted, that u Dr. Rittenhouse, 
 by imitation, approached nearer to the Maker of the 
 world than any other man; and that his model of the 
 planetary system has the plagiary appellation of an 
 Orrery." I suspect, that you mistake the meaning of 
 the latter assertion. Mr. Jefferson intended, not that 
 preceding imitations of the planetary system had not 
 been named Orreries, but that Dr. Rittenhouse's plan- 
 etarium was a work, so different from the Orreries of 
 15 
 
110 Dr. Rittenhouse. 
 
 Europe, so superiour to them, and so entirely an in- 
 vention of his own, that it was an errour to call it by 
 that name. Had you seen it, I am persuaded you 
 would have adopted Mr. Jefferson's opinion. 
 
 You subjoin "All that posterity knows about him 
 is, that as President of a democratic club at Philadel* 
 phia, afterwards called The Philosophical Society, he 
 signed some inflammatory resolutions, tending to abet 
 the Western insurrection; and that he was a good 
 measurer of land." 
 
 This, Sir, may be all that English posterity knows 
 about Dr. Rittenhouse: and a part ot this must be 
 known by the aid of peculiar optics, because it is not 
 true. The Philosophical Society of Philadelphia 
 was never a democratic club, nor a political club in 
 any sense. It was instituted in the year 1769, long be- 
 fore democracy was heard of in this country; and has 
 ever been engaged, and with a considerable degree of 
 success, in promoting science: and this has been its on- 
 ly employment. 
 
 But American posterity knows much more about this 
 Gentleman. He is known, here, by several curious 
 Astronomical calculations, and observations; particu- 
 larly of the transits of Venus and Mercury, in 1769; 
 and by his very useful labours in settling, to the general 
 satisfaction, territorial lines between different States, 
 For thirteen years he was treasurer of the State of 
 Pennsylvania; and was regularly chosen by an annu- 
 al and unanimous vote of the Legislature. Soon af- 
 ter he resigned this office, he was appointed the first 
 Director of the American Mint; and held that office 
 until bad health compelled him to resign it. Permit 
 me to add, Sir, that he preserved, through life, a char- 
 acter unstained and irreproachable; was holdeninhigh 
 
Hartley's Quadrant. ill 
 
 esteem by the best men in this country, and among 
 others by Washington; and died in the full belief of 
 the Christian system, and the strong hope of realizing 
 its blessings in the future world. What may, perhaps, 
 be in your view of more importance than all, he was 
 a Fellow of the Royal Society in London. In your 
 next edition of this train of observations on American 
 genius and literature, which I shall look for in some 
 one of your numbers for the year 1815, I hope for 
 your own sake, you will treat JDr. Riitenhouse with a 
 little more pivility. 
 
 In your account ofHadley^s Quadrant you are equal- 
 ly unhappy. It was invented, notwithstanding you 
 are pleased to challenge the honour of the invention, 
 as belonging to Hadtey, whom you call "your ingen- 
 ious countryman," by a Mr. Godfrey of Philadelphia, 
 Permit me to tell you the story. 
 
 A considerable premium had been offered in Lon- 
 don for the invention of a Quadrant possessing the 
 properties, which were ultimately attained in this. 
 Godfrey, a poor but ingenious man, applied himself 
 diligently to the business of forming one, which should 
 answer the description given in these proposals, and 
 succeeded. To acquire the premium, and the honour 
 of the invention, he engaged a passage to England in 
 a ship, just ready to sail from Philadelphia. John 
 Hadley, Esq. then commanded a ship, lying also in the 
 Delaware; and invited the Captain, with whom God- 
 frey was to sail, to dine with him. After dinner he 
 brought out a Quadrant, which he considered as supe- 
 riour to those in common use. His guest told him, 
 that if he would dine with him the next day, he would 
 shew him one, lately invented by a Philadelphian, 
 which was much guperiour to his own. Hartley cou~ 
 
112 City of Washington. 
 
 Dented; and came the next day, provided with the 
 means of taking an exact description of the new 
 quadrant. After they had dined, the quadrant was 
 produced; and Hadley took a description of it. His 
 ship being ready to sail, he fell dov/n the river that 
 night; and, having a very short passage to England, 
 procured a quadrant to be made of the same structure. 
 Some weeks afterwards the ship, in which Godfrey 
 sailed, arrived in England. Here he found among 
 that class of people, who were interested in such a sub- 
 ject, much conversation about Hadleifs quadrant, as 
 being a new and very happy invention, and much su- 
 periour to any, which had before been known. He 
 procured a sight of the instrument, and found it exact- 
 Jy the same with his own. You may suppose, that 
 he was astonished at this discovery. The captain, 
 scarcely less astonished at the grossness of the fraud, 
 and deeply wounded by this proof of his own indis- 
 cretion, explained the mystery to Godfrey. The un- 
 happy man became a maniac. Your countryman 
 was, indeed, ingenious, Sir. I wish he had been 
 honest. 
 
 Your observations concerning the City of Washing- 
 ion are sufficiently contemptuous; and I acknowledge, 
 that there is some foundation for a part of the ridi- 
 cule, which they throw upon it. The Comedy has, 
 however, had a tragical catastrophe. Your Officers 
 have blown up the Capitol, and burnt the President's 
 house. They cost a million and a half of dollars; 
 and both were esteemed fine pieces of Architecture by 
 respectable Europeans, as well as by the people of this 
 country. But whatever distinction they might claim; 
 or whether they could, or could not, claim any; they 
 now no more, Probably you may enjoy more 
 
American Naval Efforts. 113 
 
 pleasure in recollecting this fact, than most travellers 
 will, in surveying the ruins. 
 
 You next indulge your spleen upon our Naval ef- 
 forts. Really, Sir, if I may judge from the informa- 
 tion, which reaches this country from Great Britain, 
 the exploits of our seamen awaken no very pleasant 
 sensations in the minds of your countrymen.* From 
 the pains, which you take, on all occasions, to magni- 
 fy our force much beyond its real amount, and to di* 
 minish yours much beneath it; and that, in various 
 instances, in defiance of the vessels, and guns, and 
 men, actually in our possession; when you make such 
 laborious, and formal calculations on the subject; 
 when you so solemnly inquire why the Americans 
 Jire so much more rapidly than your own people; and 
 when you exult so much in the capture of the Ches- 
 apeake; an exploit, much less brilliant than you make 
 it; I cannot help suspecting, that you think more 
 highly of the American seamen than your are will- 
 ing to express. If you do not; you are the only na- 
 tion in the world, which does not. We, at least, are 
 satisfied with both their bravery and their conduct: 
 much more so, if I mistake not, than you are. Let 
 me add, that you have not been accustomed to make 
 
 From CobbetPs Register* "I have from the first expressed my appre- 
 hension as to the end of the war. I used my utmost endeavors to prevent, 
 it. At last the war took place, and the disgraoe, which we suffered at sea, com- 
 pleted the madness of the nation, who seemed to have no other feeling than that 
 of mortification and revenge. What! should the people be suffered to livei 
 should they be suffered to exist in the world; who had defeated, and captured, a 
 British frigate! should those, who had caused the British flag to be hauled down, 
 not be exterminated! Disappointment; fury! The nation was mad. "Rule Brit- 
 tannia," the constant call of the boasting rabble at places of public resort, was no 
 longer called for with such eagerness, and was heard with less rapture. The he- 
 roes in blue and buff carried their heads less lofty. Their voices seemed to be- 
 come more faint, and their port less majestic. They seemed to feel, as men of 
 honour would, upon such an occasion. In short, we all fclt } that a new era had 
 taken place in the naval annals of the world." 
 
114 British House of Peers. 
 
 this ado about your naval rencounters with any oth- 
 er nation. 
 
 At the close of these observations you mention a 
 silly speech made by Mr. Wright of Maryland, a 
 member of Congress. YouJ^ad before given a very 
 contemptuous account of the persons, who consti- 
 tute the House of Representatives, and of the indecent 
 manner, in which their debates are conducted. With 
 regard to the last of these articles I observe, that, 
 though I do not think very highly of the manner, in 
 which the debates of our Representatives are carried 
 on, yet the adventure of Matthew Lyon did not exist 
 during the time, when the House was in Session; and 
 therefore does not affect the manner of conducting 
 their debates. It is, I believe, bare justice to our 
 House of Representatives to say, that, while in session, 
 they are at least as decorous, as your House of Com- 
 mons; and that the Houses of Representatives in Con- 
 necticut and Massachusetts are incomparably more so. 
 
 Please, Sir, to read the following transcript from 
 your Parliamentary Chronicle, reciting some transac- 
 tions in your House of Lords. 
 
 June 17th, 1794. "The Lord Chancellor then pro- 
 ceeded to read Lord Grenville's original Motion of 
 Thanks; when he was interrupted by 
 
 Lord Lauderdale; who insisted that he had a right 
 first to propose a Motion of Thanks to Colonel Vill- 
 ette for his meritorious services at Corsica: Colonel 
 Fillette being equally entitled to them as Lord Hood, 
 
 The interposition of the Noble Earl being contrary 
 to all the established Rules of Parliament, he was call- 
 ed to Order by the whole House. 
 
 The Noble Earl, however, persisted in what he 
 his right. 
 
Lord Lander daie. 115 
 
 The Lord Chancellor stood up, and said, he spoke 
 to Order from the Woolsack. 
 
 Lord Lauderdale, notwithstanding this, attempted 
 to proceed, though the voices of "The Chair, The 
 Chair," echoed from all sides. 
 
 Lord Hawkesbury declared, he had sat thirty-five 
 years in Parliament, and never witnessed such unru- 
 ly and disorderly behaviour in any Member. He call- 
 ed upon their Lordships to support the Chair; or all 
 that was decent, and orderly, in the Senate, would be 
 annihilated. 
 
 Lord Lauderdale never sat down the whole time; 
 and, as soon as Lord Hawkesbury finished, again at- 
 tempted to interrupt the Chancellor, who was also on 
 his legs. 
 
 The House at length prevailed; and the united 
 voice of their Lordships in a peremptory manner 
 compelled the Noble Lord to desist. 
 
 Is it then true, Sir, that your Peers of the Realm, 
 assembled in the House of Lords, and proceeding in 
 the solemn business of Legislation, behave in this 
 manner? Is it true, that one of them, of high name, 
 and great consequence, trespassed so grossly on the 
 established rules of order, that another of similar dis- 
 tinction, felt himself obliged to call upon the House 
 to support the Lord Chancellor; and to declare, that, 
 if they did not, all, that was decent and orderly in 
 the Senate, would be annihilated? and was this No- 
 bleman so disorderly that he could not be reduced to 
 order, until the whole House of Peers, uniting their 
 voices in a peremptory manner, compelled him to de- 
 sist? Had you been a member of the American Sen- 
 ate from its commencement to the present hour; you 
 yourself would say. that all the indecorums, which 
 
116 Earl Stanhope. 
 
 have taken place in it, would not amount to one such 
 scene, as this. 
 
 As to silly speeches, I think you have your share of 
 them. Permit me to make a few extracts. 
 
 Earl Stanhope ;c The learned Lordlias said, that 
 the aristocrat tradesmen [In this land oi blunders we 
 should have said aristocratic tradesmen.] approved 
 their conduct: the only persons, who disapproved 
 thereof, were the Sans Culottes. I am a Sans-Culotte 
 citizen; a Sans-Culotte individual; one of that swinish 
 multitude, who think their proceedings unjust and 
 illegal." 
 
 Permit me to ask, whether the noble Earl at this 
 time appeared in the House of Peers without his small 
 clothes? 
 
 April 15, 1794. 
 
 Again. Sir Gregory Page Turner whom I take to 
 be one of the country Gentlemen, who are unlike any 
 thing, found throughout the whole range of the United 
 States. 
 
 "He said, he had not opened his mouth before this 
 session, though he had constantly supported the war 
 in the strongest manner with a silent vote. He was 
 both willing, and ready to submit to any taxation, the 
 Minister should be pleased to impose; and for that 
 purpose, would,4n concert with the other Gentlemen 
 of that House, deliver in an exact and regular detail 
 of his' property. He did not mean to compliment 
 Mr. Pitt, but he certainly had a high opinion of his 
 integrity, and accordingly pronounced a long and irreg- 
 ular eulogium thereon. What was equalization? 
 The French had talked of equalization: but in truth 
 he supposed they wanted to make an equal partition 
 of property. Every body knew he had not much 
 
Sir Gregory Page Turner. 117 
 
 janded property, but what he had he should not like 
 to share with these fellows. He was an insignificant 
 Member, as the House supposed him to be; and could 
 not say much to the purpose; but he had two or three 
 good coats which he supposed the French also would 
 like to take, and have him only one. He supposed 
 too, that men, who had no money, would scramble 
 for all they could get; and those who had but ten 
 pounds, might want a hundred, or perhaps two hun* 
 dred: he could not telL (During the whole of this 
 diverting Peroration, the House was convulsed with 
 laughter; and the Speaker was obliged to force an air 
 of gravity, to command order.) The Honourable 
 Baronet wondered why the Gentlemen enjoyed his 
 speech so much, since he did not pretend to humour, 
 These were his real sentiments, which are which 
 are which are (another fit of laughter.) The 
 War Much had been said of the War. It is the 
 War of Europe. It is a War!!! We had engaged 
 in this War, not for attack, but defence; to secure our 
 property, our lives and honours" March 6, 1794. 
 
 1 am so pleased with the speeches of this Gen- 
 tleman, that I must be permitted to copy another 
 specimen of his Oratorical powers, exhibited May 26, 
 1796. 
 
 "Sir Gregory Page Turner" says the Parliamen- 
 tary Chronicle, "craved the indulgence of the House 
 for a few observations which he had to make. When 
 he stood up in the morning, or when he lay down at 
 night, he always felt for the Constitution. (A laugh.) 
 On this question he never had but one opinion. 
 When he came first into Parliament, he remembered, 
 that the Chancellor of the Exchequer proposed a Re- 
 form; but he saw it was wrong, and he opposed it, 
 16 
 
118 Earl Stanhope, 
 
 Would it not be madness to change what had existed 
 sound from the days of his father? (Loud laughter.) 
 Were Gentlemen to make changes in their Constitu- 
 tion, as they altered the cut of a coat, for the fashion, 
 or as a lady fancied a new head dress? (Burst of 
 laughter.) When questions of such a dangerous na- 
 ture, as the present, was brought forward, he could not 
 sleep quietly on his peaceful pillow. Gentlemen spoke 
 of places and pensions. He had neither place nor 
 pension; and therefore he was at issue with them on 
 the score of independence. Did Birmingham and 
 Manchester bring forward propositions for a Reform? 
 No. They were brought forward by Gentlemen, high 
 in talents, and high in Opposition. Did Gentlemen 
 expect to stop bribery, and corruption, in our Govern- 
 ment? He never had such an idea, It was all one, 
 whether the House consisted of 5000, or 500. They 
 had not to consider who the Electors were, but who 
 the elected are." 
 
 Now for Lord Stanhope again. 
 
 "I am a friend to liberty, to French liberty, so far 
 as it respects the rights of individuals; and I will go so 
 far as to add, that, if the fortune of war so ordain it, I 
 shall glory to be hanged in such a cause: for it is the 
 cause of Mankind, and of Philosophy." 
 
 Now, Sir, if his Lordship had really a strong wish 
 to be hanged, I must be permitted to say, that any 
 attempts on the part of the House of Peers, to prevent 
 his Lordship from going to the gallows, must have 
 been an unseemly, and perhaps an untimely, interfer- 
 ence. For the cause of Mankind, peradventure some 
 one might even dare to die; but for the cause of Phi- 
 losophy scarcely woutd any man die. Since, then, a 
 martyr has been actually found, ready to venture his 
 
Mr. Drake, jun. 119 
 
 fleck in this cause, the man must be very little of a phi- 
 losopher, who would step between his Lordship and the 
 gallows; but should his Lordship actually be hanged in 
 this cause, I should humbly advise him not to appear 
 on the gallows in his favourite character of a Sans 
 Culotte. 
 
 Mr. Drake, jun. "I applaud the Honourable Gentle* 
 man, that has just sat down, who defended, with sub- 
 lime, astonishing, and angelic eloquence, the measure 
 approved by his Majesty. Immortal thanks to him 
 for the honesty, and manliness of his declarations. I 
 shall always be proud to have the honour of uniting 
 with a man, so characterized, and so immortalized! I 
 shall be proud to join him, to overturn the enemies of 
 our glorious Constitution. I shall fight for this won- 
 derful fabric to the last drop of my blood! He that 
 entertains, and propagates, contrary opinions, is the 
 greatest enemy to mortal man! For my part, I had 
 rather die a Loyalist, than live a Republican. Oh! 
 then, Sir, let us draw ourselves out in battle array for 
 the peace of the country. Oh! Sir, I will not declare 
 Yes, Sir, I will declare, what delight it gave me to 
 hear the Noble Lord over the way, (Lord Titchfield,} 
 express himself as he did. I love that Noble Marquis; 
 I love him in my heart, for the speech, he delivered 
 this night. Oh! Sir, this country loves the Bentincks 
 and the Cavendishes. Come now, ye valiant defend- 
 ers of the glorious Revolution, assist me in my hon- 
 ourable endeavours to immortalize that wonderful 
 event." 
 
 Really, Sir, this is very fine; and is no unhappy 
 specimen of that "sublime, astonishing, and Angelic 
 eloquence/' which Mr. Drake applauded so fervently 
 in Mr. Anstruther. Why,, Sir, this outdoes Mr. 
 
120 Mr. Drake, jun. 
 
 Wright himself; and approaches near to thunder* 
 and lightning- Williams. But we are not yet come 
 to the acme of Mr. Draktfs eloquence: and far be it 
 from me to do injustice, even in thought, to such a 
 rival of Cicero, by failing on this occasion to quote 
 his most pre-eminent effusions. Here they are. 
 
 "Mr. Drake then in the most emphatic terms con- 
 jured his Honourable, ever Honourable, and right 
 Honourable, friends to unite heart and hand in sup- 
 pressing, and extirpating, the very semen of a Revolu- 
 tion, 'which was but too evident in the volcanic, sub- 
 terranean, infernal, diabolical, eloquence of his inimi- 
 cal friends; who (Here an immoderate peal of 
 laughter.) The Honourable Member went on, "I 
 have been interrupted in one of the most essential 
 privileges of a British Senator: to wit, the freedom of 
 speech; which, I hope, the Speaker has not om tted to 
 demand of his Majesty in the present session of Par- 
 liament. If it has been obtained, I, in common with 
 other Members, have a right to avail myself of it. In 
 order to conciliate the attention of the House, I lament 
 that it is necessary for Members to detail their politi- 
 cal creeds. Whatever that of others may be, mine is 
 loyalty to my King, fidelity to my Country, and love 
 to the Constitution." (Great animation.) 
 
 Mr. Drake "jf by theatrical gesticulation I have 
 betrayed an excess of animation, it was but the ebul- 
 litions of my heart, which oblige me to exclaim with 
 Hamlet, that 
 
 "I have that within, whiph passeth shew; 
 These but the trappings, that the seat, of woe.** 
 
 Pray, Sir, is Mr. Drake now alive? If he is, could 
 you not persuade him to take a short trip across the 
 
The Earl of Abingdon. 121 
 
 Atlantic, and teach by his example our Senators and 
 Representatives a little eloquence? I do not mean, Sir, 
 "the volcanic, subterranean, infernal, diabolical elo- 
 quence of his inimical friends;" I mean his own elo- 
 quence, and somewhat of that "theatrical gesticula- 
 tion," and that "excess of animation," one or both of 
 which "is but the ebullitions of the heart." Who 
 knows, Sir, but such a measure, as this, would improve 
 the Honourable Mr Clopton, the Honourable Mr. 
 Widgery, and even the Honourable Willis Alston. 
 Indeed, Sir, it is difficult to conceive how much good it 
 might do. 
 
 Turn we now again to the House of Lords, Novem- 
 ber 13, 1796. 
 
 The Farl of Abingdon "The Noble Secretary of 
 State has on a former night said a good deal about 
 Lord Clarendon. Since that debate, I have met with 
 a book, which gives a full account of Lord Clarendon. 
 I will read some passages from that book, to show 
 your Lordships what kind of a man that celebrated 
 character was In the first place, I have to observe, 
 that Lord Clarendon was a very superstitious fellow, 
 and believed in ghosts. But I will read a very curious 
 dialogue out of this book about him." (Here some of 
 their Lordships asked the name of the book.) Lord 
 Abingdon. "It Is a book of good authority. It is an 
 hundred years old: and I bought it at a stall. Before 
 I proceed to read this passage, I wish to observe, that 
 I think the old doctrine of Passive Obedience and 
 Non Resistance is revived. I was in hopes it had been 
 quite buried, since James the Second's reign. I wish 
 to ask the Reverend Prelate (Bishop of Rochester*) 
 whether Vox Populi is not Vox Dei. I will prove ii 
 
 f JSjshop Horsley, 
 
The Earl of Abingdon. 
 
 is; and that God Almighty always inspires the Peo- 
 ple on such occasions, and will do so still. 1 will 
 prove this by authors as old as Methusalem\* though 
 I am not prepared now: but when I am, I mean to 
 come down with a very severe Phillippic upon the 
 subject." 
 
 Bishop of Rochester. "Never having had the good 
 fortune of meeting with any author, as old as Methu- 
 salem, I cannot meet the Noble Lord upon the sub- 
 ject." 
 
 Earl ofAbingdon. "As I am not prepared now, I 
 will prove it clearly some other time. I however in- 
 form the Bench of Bishops, and your Lordships, that 
 every one of you, who believe in the doctrine of Pas- 
 sive Obedience and Non- Resistance, will be damned 
 without redemption; because it is against the Revolu- 
 tion principles" 
 
 Again. "I have written against Mr. Burke. I 
 have published against him: and yet he never would 
 answer me. I have begged him to cut me up, to 
 flea me alive; (an American would have said flay;) 
 so as he would but answer me: but not a line could I 
 get from him." The debate at the third reading of 
 the bill for the preservation of his Majesty's Person 
 and Government. 
 
 I do not believe, Sir, that Mr. Wright himself, 
 when he was a Senator of the United States, and de- 
 livered a secret Message (made secret at his own re- 
 quest,) before a crowded gallery in the House of Rep- 
 resentatives, could have excelled this display of Lord 
 Abingdotfs oratorical powers. But his Lordship, as 
 we learn from the same source, appears as a Divine. 
 as well as an Orator. 
 
 * Our Bibles read Methuselah 
 
The Earl of Abingdon. 123 
 
 On January 6, 1796, in a debate on the Resolution 
 that Great Britain "ought not and would not, inter- 
 fere in the internal affairs of France" the Earl of Ah- 
 ingdon observed, "Does not the Noble Lord (Earl 
 Stanhope) know, that retaliation, an eye for an eye, 
 a tooth for a tooth, is the law of the Gospel? And 
 how is this to be accounted for, but that the Noble 
 Lord does not believe in the law of retaliation; al- 
 though founded upon that Christian-like principle of 
 returning good for evil? He does not therefore believe 
 in the Gospel" 
 
 Now, Sir, I verily believe, that there is not a Cler- 
 gyman in the United States, who, however studious, 
 or however advanced in years, knew, before his Lord- 
 ship discovered it, that "an eye for an eye, a tooth for 
 a tooth, was the law of the Gospel;" or "that the law 
 of retaliation is founded on that Christian-like princi- 
 ple of returning good for evil." In this land of bar- 
 barism it has been supposed, that the principle of re- 
 turning good for evil was, in reality, a Christian prin- 
 ciple; and of very serious importance in the system of 
 the Gospel; and not merely "Christian-like." But 
 what, better than this, could be expected in these 
 Transatlantic regions? 
 
 It is time that these extracts should be terminated. 
 Let me ask, Sir, what are we to think of the morals, 
 what of the honour, cherished by the Members of your 
 House of Commons, when we read, in the Parliamen- 
 tary Chronicle for 1796, the debate on the franking of 
 letters; and find it publicly averred by the Minister as 
 a reason for curtailing this privilege of the Members, 
 that they were in the habit of farming it out at the 
 highest price, and thus shamelessly defrauded the 
 Revenue; when we find a law passed, that no Member 
 
124 Lord Cochrane. 
 
 shall frank more than ten letters, or receive more than 
 fifteen, in one day, and that all above this number 
 shall be charged to him? What are we to suppose, 
 when in another section of the same law, we find 
 Members forbidden to frank letters at any Post 
 Office, which is more than twenty jive miles distant 
 from fhe places, where they severally were on the day 
 of franking; and when in another, we see them for- 
 bidden to delegate their right of franking to more 
 than one individual at a time? 
 
 Look at the case of Sir Thomas Cochrane, com- 
 monly called Lord Cochrane, a member of your 
 House of Commons. While your abuse of our Con- 
 gress was yet issuing from the press, this man was im- 
 peached for a swindling conspiracy; that is, he was 
 charged with conspiring with his cousin the Honoura- 
 ble Cochrane Johnston, and others, to fabricate and 
 circulate a false report with a view to profit by a sud- 
 den rise in the funds; and, after fabricating and circu- 
 lating such a report, with having in connexion with 
 his associates, sold out stocks, which had been purchas- 
 ed for that very purpose, to the amount of nearly a 
 million sterling; thereby putting in their own pockets 
 twenty or thirty thousand pounds, which they had 
 thus filched from the pockets of unsuspecting pur- 
 chasers, Of this crime he w r as impeached by a large 
 committee, who were appointed to examine into the 
 circumstances of the case, and who published to the 
 world their names, and the reasons on which their 
 opinion was founded. He then published, under the 
 solemnity of an oath, a full, positive, and unequivocal 
 assertion of his innocence. Still he was indicted by a 
 grand jury, brought before your Court of King's 
 Bench as a culprit, found guilty by a petit jury, and 
 
Lord Ccchrane. 125 
 
 sentenced by the Court to be fined, imprisoned, and 
 stand one hour in the pillory, in one of the most pub- 
 lic streets of London. At the opening of Parliament, 
 and before the House had time to expel him, he grossly 
 abused the persons who had impeached him, the jury 
 who had found him guilty, and the judge who had 
 sentenced him. He was, however, soon expelled; but 
 the tale does not end here: you would rejoice if it did 
 As his place was vacant, writs were issued for a new 
 election. Lord Cochrane had the hardihood to offer 
 himself as a candidate; he addressed the electors; he 
 bawled as loudly as ever, I presume, against corrup- 
 tion; he assumed that he was one of the genuine 
 friends of the People; and, can it be believed! was re- 
 turned as a Member of the House of Commons, by a 
 majority of electors in a populous part of your proud 
 metropolis. He of course takes his seat, and both 
 votes and debates, if he pleases, on all questions relat- 
 ing to the public maintenance of religion, to good 
 morals^ and good government. Either Lord Coch- 
 rane is guilty of one of the vilest frauds, of a gross 
 perjury in order to conceal it, and of gross slander of 
 those, who impeached, condemned, and expelled him, 
 or your honourable merchants, your boasted courts 
 and juries, and your national Legislature, have most 
 iniquitously proscribed and punished an innocent man, 
 of high standing in society. I mention this alternative, 
 not because I have doubts respecting his guilt; but 
 merely to show, that there is no possible way of evad- 
 ing the disgrace attached to this transaction. 
 
 Such things could not take place in this country, 
 
 while our present standard of morals remains. It has 
 
 been remarked by judicious men, here, that no person 
 
 could retain a particle of influence, even amon^ the 
 
 17 
 
1 26 Decency of the British Parliament 
 
 lowest and worst classes of the community, after ha 
 had been legally convicted of an infamous crime. 
 Our villains, particularly those in high life, are obliged 
 to abscond when detected, even before conviction. 
 Your Wilkeses and your Cochranes, though known 
 to be infamously vile by every intelligent man; though 
 tried as malefactors, condemned, punished, and ex- 
 pelled the House of Commons; are yet taken up by 
 the people, made the idols of a party, again returned 
 to Parliament, where with unparalleled effrontery they 
 not only look honourable men in the face, but take 
 an active part m legislating for a great nation. 
 
 Once more, Sir, let me ask, What are we to think of 
 the decency, with which the debates of your Parliament 
 are conducted, when in the House of Commons, we hear 
 Mr. Burke (April J 794,) comparing the River Scheldt 
 to the filthiest of all utensils, and that by name; or 
 -when, in the House of Lords, we hear the Earl of 
 Mansfield translate the words Sans Culotte, used as 
 an adjective, by the grossest phraseology, which he 
 could have derived from a dog-kennel. These mea 
 were the lights of your country; and made Europe, 
 and even these Transatlantic regions, resound with 
 their fame. If such things were done by your leaders; 
 what must we suppose to have been done by their 
 followers? 
 
 To finish my remarks concerning your Parliament, 
 I observe, that the most disgraceful Member of our 
 Congress, (and we have had several, who were suffi- 
 ciently disgraceful,) fell immeasurably behind the 
 famous John Elwcs, three times returned as a Mem- 
 ber to your Parliament. Look at this man, Sir, then 
 in the possession of near 800,00^ pounds sterling,, 
 after having expended eighteen pence for his election,. 
 
John Elwes. 127 
 
 netting out from his seat on horseback, witht\vo hard- 
 foiled eggs in his pocket; shunning carefully every 
 turnpike road lest he should be obliged to pay the fare; 
 stopping under a hedge; feeding his horse upon the grass 
 in the road, and himself upon the egg; wearing a wig, 
 cast off by a beggar, and picked up by himself out oi 
 a kennel; and following from morning to night the 
 carpenters, who were repairing his houses. View him 
 again at his own seat, mending his windows with a 
 piece pf broken glass, or a bit of brown paper; glean- 
 ing corn out of his tenants' fields; picking up stray 
 chips, and bones, to carry to the fire in his pocket; 
 -pulling down a crow's nest, to add to his slock of fuel; 
 and then complaining of the extravagance, and 
 waste, with which these creatures built their nests. 
 See him again, stealing into the stable, and taking 
 away the hay, which his servant had given to tht 
 horse of a friend who visited him; eating corrupt- 
 ed meat, and the animals which had been bred in 
 it; and devouring the small fry, taken by his net, in- 
 -stead of replacing them in the river until they should 
 be grown, because he should never see them again 
 Behold him hiding his money, wrapped up, a few 
 guineas in a paper, and deposited in corners, and other 
 secret places; and rising by night, as well as watching 
 by day, to see whether it had been stolen. Finally, 
 mark this man, then worth a million sterling, and ,ou 
 ihe verge of death, crying out in his sleep, "I will 
 keep my property: no man shall rob meofmy pi^operty." 
 When you have done this, muster, for a review, all 
 that has been contemptible in the Congress of the 
 United States; and say whether you believe, that an- 
 other such human being was ever born out of Great 
 Britain 
 
128 Conjugal Infidelity. 
 
 There is another subject intimately connected with 
 your Government, much more intimately than I 
 could wish, which demands a few additional remarks. 
 "Your Lordships will remember/ 5 said the Bishop o ( 
 Rochester, on the llth of March, 1796, "that you 
 have had cases before you, where Ladies of high 
 rank have been guilty with their menial servants: 
 if they are to be entitled to settlements upon Divorce, 
 what is it, but to hold forth rewards to Postillions, &c. 
 to debauch their Ladies? There have been, also stated, 
 cases, where the usage of the husband has been plead- 
 ed in extenuation. In such cases the proper reme- 
 dy will be, to refuse him his bill of Divorce; where, 
 for instance, an old and debilitated man courted a 
 young girl to his arms, he ought to abide the event, 
 for he takes her, 'with his eyes open to the conse- 
 quences. In the particular case before us, I see noth- 
 ing that can be urged in mitigation; an old woman, 
 forty years of age, having ten children, took to her 
 bed a Scoundrel of a French Emigrant" 
 
 This, Sir, is a most melancholy story; as the sub- 
 ject of it is a most disgraceful theme of legislative de- 
 liberation: disgraceful, I mean, not to the Legislature, 
 but to the country, which has made the debate ne- 
 cessary. Happily for New England, this story can- 
 not, so far as my knowledge extends, be told of its 
 inhabitants. No similar occurrence, within the limits 
 of my information, has been found here. In two of 
 the New England States,* there are laws permitting 
 Divorces by their Supreme Judicial Courts: laws, im- 
 measurably dishonourable to those States, and fitted 
 only to diffuse pollution. Yet such is the character 
 
 * Connecticut and Vermont, 
 
Conjugal Infidelity. 121* 
 
 of the New England people, that even these laws 
 have hitherto drawn no such cases, as those mention 
 ed by the good Bishop, in their train. Should they 
 continue in force, there can be no reasonable doubt. 
 that their consequences will be baleful to the purity oi 
 individuals, the peace of families, and the welfare oi 
 the public. Hitherto, their effects, although only per- 
 nicious, have been very limited. 
 
 With you, Sir, this most malignant species of cor- 
 ruption is of long standing; and appears to have per* 
 vaded your country throughout its early, as well as its 
 later history. A great part of your Comedies, and of 
 your Novels, a multitude of your Songs, and other 
 Poems, and many other still graver Publications, have 
 been scandalously obscene and polluted.* A God* 
 win, defending gravely his licentious concubinage with 
 a Wolstoncrajt, would, here, have been hissed in the? 
 streets by the inhabitants of every village, through 
 which he passed. 
 
 This evil spreads throughout a great part of the 
 higher classes in your country. It enters the palace: 
 often it has ascended the throne. Look over one oi 
 your Court Registers; and see whether you cannot. 
 find proofs of it in the very names of your Dukes 
 Look at your present Royal Family; at the history ol 
 Mrs. Clarke. But I will stop: for, although you have 
 driven me to these remarks, I have no pleasure in less- 
 ening the reputation of your Royal Family. 
 
 Perhaps, Sir, a plea may be made for this licen- 
 tiousness by some others of your countrymen, which 
 has already been made by the Edinburgh Re- 
 viewers. 
 
 * I have never known an obscene book publishg;! in lly- American 
 
130 The Edinburgh Review. 
 
 "The passion of Monarchs for their Mistresses/" 
 says a writer in the forty-fourth number of that re- 
 doubtable Work, ''-is not always fatal to their own 
 honour, or to the happiness of their people. La Belle 
 Gabriel le, Madame de la Valliere, and other in- 
 stances, might be quoted in favour of this opinion, 
 But the monarchs, and their mistresses, were of that 
 age, when a mutual passion gave to each a para- 
 mount interest in the glory and happiness of the oth- 
 er The moment, when a nation most dreads and 
 abhors the dominion of a mistress, is when they see 
 in it the result of luxurious habits, rather than of pas- 
 sion the feverish want of a decayed constitution; 
 rather than the honest demands of nature and imag- 
 ination." 
 
 Pray, Sir, is not the Conductor of the Edinburgh 
 Review a descendant of those cattle, who, according 
 to Lord Monboddo, were the first ancestors of the hu- 
 man race; who wore tails, and lived in the near neigh- 
 bourhood of our Cousin Ourang Outangs? I presume 
 his Lordship must have formed this part of his Philo- 
 sophical System under impressions made upon his mind 
 by the appearance, and character, of those around him, 
 He must have seen, 1 think, mental characteristics, 
 which, he supposed, ought to belong to those only, who 
 had once worn tails; and their appearance was probably 
 such, as induced him to believe, that they had not 
 long been freed from this ornamental appendage. 
 This Conductor was, I suppose, born in the vicinity of 
 his Lordship: and, if the proper investigation were to 
 be made, it would, I presume, be found, that the tail had 
 hitely fallen oft" from the man, or that the man had fall- 
 en off from his tail: for it is doubtful which was the 
 
The Edinburgh Review 131 
 
 principal part of the composition, To this conclusion 
 I am irresistibly led by the paragraph, which has just 
 been quoted. "The passion of Monarchs for their 
 mistresses is not always fatal io their own honour, or 
 to the happiness of their peoplel" Very honourable, 
 indeed, must be the character of that Monarch, who 
 is an adulterer; and great the happiness of his people., 
 especially of those, who are intelligent and virtuous^ 
 when they find this to be his character. "The moment, 
 when a nation most dreads, and abhors, the dominion 
 of a mistress, is when they see in it the result of luxu- 
 rious habits, rather than of passion; the feverish 
 want of a decayed constitution, rather than the honest 
 demands of nature and imagination" Lewdness 
 then, it seems, that putrefaction of the human mind; 
 that sin of Sodom; that sin, to pour upon which the 
 vengeance of an angry God, an angel summoned from 
 heaven a storm of fire and brimstone, and emptied its- 
 terrible magazines of destruction upon that abandon^ 
 ed city; le\vdncss, raised to the infamous excess of 
 adultery; lewdncss, changed into an incurable habit. 
 of adultery; faced with bronze; and, in an open, 
 shameless concubinage, proclaiming to the world its 
 indelible, and hopeless infamy;'' is, What? " The Iwn- 
 cst demands of nature and imagination" Such is 
 the decision of this Reviewer of Sodom. What is the 
 sentence of his Creator? Of the strange woman he 
 says, "None, that go in unto her, turn again; neither 
 take they hold of the paths of life. 55 
 
 Surely, Sir, these declarations of Mr. Jeffrey could 
 have come from the mouth of no man, except a de- 
 scendant from this ancient and honourable family. 
 The brute must have predominated, in the writer, 
 over the man; and held the pen, as well as controlled 
 
182 Jeffrey and Lord Byroii. 
 
 the heart, when this effusion of animalism was pour 
 ed out upon the world. 
 
 I have some knowledge of this man, Sir. He for- 
 nierly wrote a criticism on Lord Bijrori's "Hours of 
 Idleness," in which are found the following observa- 
 tions. 
 
 "The poesy of this young Lord belongs to the class, 
 which neither Gods nor men are said to permit. In- 
 deed, we do not recollect to have seen a quantity of 
 verse, with so few deviations from that exact stand- 
 ard. His effusions are spread over a dead flat, and 
 can no more get above or below the level, than if they 
 were so much stagnant water. 77 
 
 Again. "With this view we must beg leave seri- 
 ously to assure him, that the mere rhyming of the 
 final syllable, even when accompanied by the presence 
 of a certain number of Jeef; nay, although (which 
 does not always happen) those feet should scan regu- 
 larly, and have been all accurately counted on thefin- 
 gers is not the whole art of poetry. We should en- 
 treat him to believe, that a certain portion of liveli- 
 ness, somewhat of fancy, is necessary to constitute a 
 poem; and that a poem in the present day, to be read, 
 must contain at least one thought, either in a little de- 
 gree different from the ideas of former writers^ or 
 differently expressed" 
 
 And again. "But whatever judgment may be pass- 
 ed on the poems of this noble minor, it seems we must 
 take them as we find them: for they are the last we 
 shall ever have from him." [Poor Jeffrey! Happy, 
 thrice happy w r ouldest thou have been, had thy pre- 
 diction been fulfilled.] "Therefore we must take 
 what we get, and be thankful. What right have we, 
 poor devils, to be nice? We are well off to have got 
 
Byron and Jeffrey* 
 
 so much from a man of this Lord's station, who does 
 not lire in a garret, but 4i has the sway" of Newstead 
 Abbey. Again, we say, Let us be thankful; and 
 with honest Sancho, bid God bless the giver, nor look 
 the gift-horse in the mouth." 
 
 But alas! Lord Byron would not let the prophecy 
 be fulfilled. In an ill-omened hour, when, I presume, 
 the Raven was heard to flap his wing; and the 
 Screech-Owl, lodged in the hollow of some oracular 
 oak, uttered her shrill ^tnd melancholy cries; the No- 
 ble bard, moved by Jeffrey's evil genius, wrote the 
 following cauterizing verses. 
 
 "Health to immortal Jeffrey! once, in name, 
 England could boast a judge almost the same, 
 In soul so like, so merciful, yet just, 
 Some think that Satan had resigned his trust, 
 And given the spirit to the world again, 
 To sentence letters, as he sentenced men. 
 With hand less mighty, but with heart as black, 
 With voice, as willing to decree the rack; 
 Bred in the court betimes, though all, that law 
 As yet hath taught him, is to find a flaw. 
 Since well instructed in the patriot school 
 To rail at party, though a party tool, 
 Who knows? if chance his patrons should restore 
 Back to the sway, they forfeited before, 
 His scribbling toils some recompense may meet; 
 And raise this Daniel to the judgment seat- 
 JL,et Jeffries 9 shade indulge the pious hope, 
 And greeting thus, present him with a rope: 
 "Heir to my virtues! man of equal mind! 
 Skill'd to condemn, as to traduce Mankind, 
 This cord receive! for thee rescrv'd with care, 
 To wield in judgment, and at length to wtar." 
 
 "Health to great Jeffrey! Heaven preserve his life^ 
 To flourish on the fertile shores of Fife, 
 18 
 
134 Lord Byron and Jeffrey. 
 
 And guard it sacred in his future wars, 
 Since authors sometimes seek the field of Mara! 
 Can none remember that eventful day, 
 That ever glorious, almost fatal fray, 
 When Little's leadless pistol met his eye, 
 And Bow-street myrmidons stood laughing by? 
 Oh! day disastrous! on her firm-set rock, 
 Dunedin's castle felt a secret shock; 
 Dark rolled the sympathetic waves of Forth, 
 Low groan'd the startled whirlwinds of the North, 
 Tweed ruffled half his waves to form a tear, 
 The other half pursued its calm career; 
 Arthur's steep summit nodded to its base, 
 And surly Tolbooth scarcely kept her place^ 
 The Tolbooth felt, for marble sometimes can, 
 On such occasions feel as much as man- 
 The Tolbooth felt defrauded of her charms, 
 If Jeffrey died, except within her arms; 
 Kay, last not least, on that portentous mom 
 The sixteenth story, where himself was born, 
 His patrimonial garret fell to ground, 
 And pale Edina shuddered at the sound; 
 Strew'd were the streets around with milk-white 
 Flowed all the Canon-gate with inky streams; 
 This of his candour seemed the sable dew; 
 That of his valour show'd the bloodless hue; 
 And all with justice deem'd the two combin'd 
 The mingjed emblems of his mighty mind. 
 But Caledonia's goddess hovered o'er 
 The field, and saved him from the wrath of Moor?j 
 From either pistol snatched the vengeful lead, 
 And straight restored it to her favourite's head. 
 The head, with greater than magnetic power, 
 Caught it as Danae caught the golden shower, 
 And, though the thickening dross will scarce refine, 
 Augments it's ore, and is itself a mine. 
 "My son,*' she cried, "ne'er thirst for gore again, 
 Resign the pistol, and resume the pen; 
 O'er politics and poesy preside; 
 ppast of thy country, and Brittannia's guide! 
 
Lord Byron and Jeffrey, 135 
 
 For long as Albion's heedless sons submit, 
 Or Scottish taste decides on English wit, 
 So long shall last thine unmolested reign, 
 Nor any dare to take thy name in vain." : 
 
 What was the consequence oi this stinging applica- 
 tion to the sensibilities of the redoubtable Reviewer? 
 Learn it from his own words, in a subsequent Review 
 on ^Broughton's Letters from a Mahratta Camp:" 
 October, 1813. 
 
 "To publish verses is become a sort of evidence, 
 that a man wants sense: which is repelled not by 
 writing good verses, but by writing excellent verses; 
 by doing what Lord Byron has done; by displaying 
 talents, great enough to overcome the disgust, which 
 proceeds from satiety, and showing that all things may 
 become new under the reviving touch of genius" 
 
 Pray, Sir, what do you think, was the reason of 
 this wonderful change? Whence was it, that a Poet, 
 whose effusions were spread over a dead flat, and 
 could no more get above or below the level than if 
 they had been so much stagnant water" all at once 
 "possessed talents, great enough to overcome the dis- 
 gust, which proceeds from satiety, and showed that 
 all things may become new under the reviving touch 
 of Genius?" The answer to these queries is at hand. 
 The Noble Poet had brandished his cat-o'-nine tails 
 with such force and dexterity, that this descendant 
 of the ancient family feels the tingling to the present 
 hour. Rely upon it, Sir, there was never one of this 
 breed, who could be operated upon, to any valuable 
 purpose, in any other manner. Insolent, and abusive, 
 to all other men; barking at every stranger, whom 
 they see; they will instantly drop their ears, and 
 
136 Jeffrey a m m f Consideration. 
 
 smooth their shag, at the sight, and peculiarly under 
 the administration, of a switch. 
 
 When this man, (I would fain call him a gentle- 
 man if I could do it with a clear conscience,) was in 
 the United States, a little while since, having with Mr. 
 Madison the reputation of being a thorough-going 
 Jacobin, he was permitted to charter a ship, and re- 
 turn with it to Europe: a privilege, repeatedly refuse^ 
 by our liberal minded Government to native Ameri- 
 cans, of unimpeachable character. On board this 
 ship Col. Barclay proposed to send back to their na- 
 tive country a number of British prisoners. His 
 right to do this was not disputed by our Champion; 
 but he insisted, that he himself would select the per- 
 sons. The Consul coolly told him, that this could not 
 be permitted; but that they must be received accord- 
 ing to their equitable claims. Our Reviewer replied 
 by way of answer to Col. Barclay's declaration; "Sir, 
 I am a man of Consideration in my own country. 
 In my own couutry, Sir, I am a man of Considera- 
 tion." 
 
 I did not for some time conjecture what was the 
 meaning of this interesting declaration, I knew that 
 our Champion was a lawyer by profession, and 
 thought, that, perhaps he might be a lawyer af some 
 eminence. But Lord Byron has said, and it is pre- 
 sumed, that no man, within the reach of his cat-o' nine- 
 tails, will dare to deny it; certainly not our Reviewer--* 
 
 ."All, that law 
 
 As yet hath taught him, is to find a flaw," 
 
 In this quandary I alighted upon the story of our 
 Reviewer's duel with Anacreon Moore, alluded to in 
 
Jeffrey a man of Consideration. 1ST 
 
 the quotation above; which dispelled my perplexity at 
 once. These two Champions of the quill, it seems, 
 after a most chivalrous rencontre with their proper 
 weapons, and making most formidable discharges of 
 ink at each other, resolved to try their luck with 
 weapons, in the use of which they were not such vete- 
 rans. Accordingly, they appeared one morning at 
 Chalk Farm; each with a brace of pistols. The Bow- 
 street officers, having smelt the rat, were on the ground 
 almost as soon, as the champions; and stayed, rudely 
 I presume, all further proceedings. These interlopers 
 had the curiosity to examine the pistols, and found 
 them absolutely bulletless. "Now, Sir, it was "con- 
 sideration" only; (I protest against every suspicion, 
 that it was want of courage;) 1 say it was "considera- 
 tion" only, that induced Mr. Jeffrey and Mr. Moore 
 to fight a duel without bullets. 
 
 Thus, Sir, our Reviewer was "a man of Considera- 
 tion in his own country:" and, had he fought a duel 
 here; he would undoubtedly have been "a man of Con- 
 sideration," also, in the United States. 
 
 I will close my business with Mr. Jeffrey, for the 
 present, by subjoining one more quotation from Lord 
 Byron. It is from the Postscript to his English Bards 
 and Scotch Reviewers." As Mr. Jeffrey has long 
 since determined, that the Americans are destitute of 
 genius, he certainly cannot find fault with us for mak- 
 ing the best use we can of British genius, in our OWE. 
 defence. "My northern friends," says his Lordship, 
 "have accused me, with justice, of personality towards 
 their great literary Anthropophagus. Jeffrey, but what 
 else was to be done with him, and his dirty pack, who 
 feed by u lying and slandering," and s ; ake their thirst 
 by "evil speaking?" I have stated facts already 
 
138 Language of the United States. 
 
 known, and of Jeffrey's mind, I have stated my free 
 opinion: nor has he thence sustained any injury. 
 What scavenger was ever soiled by being pelted with 
 mudf 
 
 Your next attack, after quoting a paragragh in 
 the New England Palladium, advertising a stolen 
 book;* and making a few observations upon the im- 
 propriety of garbling editions of your books, and alter- 
 ing some of your plays, so as to suit the American 
 taste; is upon the Language of the United States. 
 By the way, do none of your countrymen ever steal 
 books? If they do not; and we are to believe "CoZ- 
 quLourfs. Police of London" and his "Police of the 
 Thames;" books are the only things, which some or 
 other of them do not steal. Here you accuse us of 
 forming projects to get rid of the English language; 
 "not," you say, "merely by barbarizing it, but by abol- 
 ishing it altogether, and substituting a new language of 
 our own." As specimens, you inform us, that "one per- 
 son had recommended the adoption of the Hebrew; and 
 another, a Scotchman, of the name of Thornton, had 
 projected to murder the English orthography by turn- 
 ing the e topsy-turvy, dotting the i underneath, and 
 adding a few pothooks and ladles, &c." Pray, Sir, 
 do you think this story was worth telling? Do you 
 believe the application of it to the people of the United 
 States just? If not; can you vindicate yourself from 
 the charge of dishonesty in insinuating, that they were 
 concerned in such a project? From you have I first 
 learned the existence of either of those projects: and I 
 presume, that ninety-nine, out of a hundred, and 
 
 * Were I to glean the English character from the London newspapers, by 
 picking out the scandalous articles, it would shame even slander herself to 
 repeat it 
 
Language of the United States. 139 
 
 more probably nine hundred and ninety-nine, Out of 
 a thousand, Americans, never heard of either. 
 
 Are there no foolish projects in Great Britain^ 
 Did not good Bishop Wilkms project a scheme to 
 fly? And are there not other Scotchmen, beside 
 Thornton, who have acted like fools? Why, because 
 this stupid Scotchman crossed the Atlantic, and had no 
 more sense than to publish these effusions of weakness 
 here, are his silly dreams to be imputed to the people of 
 the United States. We are as little disposed to change 
 our language as you can be. 
 
 But you charge us with making some words, and 
 using others in a peculiar sense; and recite a short 
 list, belonging to both these classes. Among others 
 the word, guess, which has been mentioned by almost 
 every Englishman, who has -undertaken to criticise 
 on our speech. To the first mention of it, or even the 
 second, or third, I had no objection. The hundredth 
 became wearisome. We use the word, guess, exactly 
 as you do; with this single exception; that a moderate 
 number of our vulgar people employ it as a cant word; 
 and with full as much propriety, as vulgar English- 
 men, and not a small number, who would disdain to 
 be reckoned among the vulgar, use damned and 
 devilish. 
 
 But "the President of Yale College talks of a conjla- 
 grative brand, and President Jefferson, of belittling 
 the productions of nature" Be it so. The members 
 of your Parliament, on the floor of debate, use the dig- 
 nified words, diddled and gullibility. 
 
 We retain some words y 'which you have dropped; 
 and you retain some, which we have dropped. We have 
 made a small number of new ones. .You have made 
 
 
40 
 
 Language of the City of London, 
 
 ten times more. Have not we the same rights in this 
 respect, as you? If we have not; where is the proof? 
 
 On this subject you have been the ra<w,andwe, 
 the Lion, in the fable. The painting, which is intend- 
 ed t-j prove your superiority, and our degradation, has 
 hitherto been done by you. It is time, that the pencil 
 had changed hands; and that justice should, at least in 
 a single instance, be done to us. 
 
 The natives of the city of London may be supposed 
 to use English as well, at least, as your people at 
 large. Take the following specimens of their English 
 from Pegged Anecdotes of the English Language. 
 
 They say 
 
 Wulgularity for 
 
 Necessuated 
 
 Curosity 
 
 Unpossible 
 
 Leastwise 
 
 Shay 
 
 Po-shay 
 
 Aggravate 
 
 A conquest (of people) 
 
 Commandement 
 
 Attackted 
 
 Gownd 
 
 Partender 
 
 Bachelder 
 
 Obstropolous 
 
 Argufy 
 
 Scrupulosity 
 
 Common- Garden 
 
 Pee-aches 
 
 Kjngsington 
 
 Kiver 
 
 Vulgarity, 
 
 Necessitated, 
 
 Curiosity, 
 
 Impossible, 
 
 At least, 
 
 Chaise, 
 
 Post chaise, 
 
 Irritate, 
 
 A concourse, 
 
 Commandment 
 
 Attacked, 
 
 Gown, 
 
 Partner, 
 
 Bachelor, 
 
 Obstreperous, 
 
 Signify, 
 
 Scruple, 
 
 Covent. 
 
 Piazzas, 
 
 Kensi ngtoiK 
 
 Cover, 
 
Language of the City of London. 141 
 
 Daater for 
 
 Saace 
 Saacer 
 Saacy 
 Chimly 
 Perdigious 
 Progidy 
 Contagious 
 
 For fraid of, instead of 
 Duberous 
 Musicianer 
 Squits 
 Pillord 
 Scrowdge 
 Squeedge 
 
 To Anger (a verb) 
 Whole-tote 
 Vemon 
 Vemonous 
 Sermont 
 Verment 
 Palaretic 
 
 Postes and posteses 
 Sitti-ation 
 Portingal 
 Somewheres 
 Oftens 
 Nowheres 
 Mislest 
 Scholard 
 Regiment 
 Contrary 
 Howsomdever 
 Whatsomdever 
 19 
 
 Daughter, 
 
 Sauce, 
 
 Saucer, 
 
 Saucy, 
 
 Chimney, 
 
 Prodigious, 
 
 Prodigy, 
 
 Contiguous, 
 
 For fear of, 
 
 Dubious, 
 
 Musician, 
 
 Quit, 
 
 Pilloried, 
 
 Crowd, (the verb.) 
 
 Squeeze, 
 
 To make angry, 
 
 The whole, 
 
 Venom, 
 
 Venomous, 
 
 Sermon, 
 
 Vermin, 
 
 Paralytic, 
 
 Posts, 
 
 Situation, 
 
 Portugal, 
 
 Somewhere, 
 
 Often, 
 
 Nowhere, 
 
 Molest, 
 
 Scholar, 
 
 Regimen, 
 
 Conti ary, 
 
 However, 
 
 Whatever, 
 
142 language of the City of London, 
 
 Successfully for 
 
 Mayoraltry 
 
 Admiraltry 
 
 Commonality 
 
 Properietor, owner 
 
 Non-plush'd 
 
 Unbethought 
 
 Discommode 
 
 Colloguing 
 
 Docity 
 
 Brownded 
 
 Despisable 
 
 An-otomy 
 
 Faragraft 
 
 Stagnated 
 
 Disgruntled 
 
 Ruinated 
 
 Solentary 
 
 Ingeniously 
 
 Eminent danger 
 
 Intosticated 
 
 Per went 
 
 Skri midge 
 
 Refuge 
 
 Nisi prisi 
 
 Taters 
 
 Vocation 
 
 Luxurious 
 
 Loveyer 
 
 Humourous 
 
 Pottecary 
 
 Nyst and Nysler 
 
 Clost and Closte: 
 
 Sinst 
 
 Successively^ 
 
 Mayoralty, 
 
 Admiralty, 
 
 Commonalty v 
 
 Proprietor, 
 
 Non-plus'd, 
 
 Recollected, 
 
 Incommode, 
 
 Golleaguing, 
 
 Docility, 
 
 Drowned, 
 
 Despicable, 
 
 A Skeleton, 
 
 Paragraph, 
 
 Stagger'd, 
 
 Offended, 
 
 Ruin'd, 
 
 Solitary, 
 
 Ingenuously, 
 
 Imminent dange? 
 
 Intoxicated, 
 
 Prevent, 
 
 Skirmish, 
 
 Refuse, 
 
 Nisi prius, , 
 
 Potatoes, 
 
 Vacation, 
 
 Luxuriant, 
 
 Lover, 
 
 Humoursome 2 
 
 Apothecary, 
 
 Nice, and Nicer, 
 
 Close, and Closer 
 
 Since, 
 
Language of the City of London. 143 
 
 Wonst for 
 
 Industerous 
 
 Sot 
 
 Frags, i. e. 
 
 Character 
 
 Moral 
 
 Jocotious or Jecotious 
 
 Hisn, Hern 
 
 Ourn, Yourn 
 
 The t'other 
 
 Every wheres, 
 
 Any-vvheres, 
 
 Any-hows, 
 
 Some-hows, 
 
 No-hows, 
 
 Nolus bolus for 
 
 Once, 
 
 Industrious, 
 
 Sat, 
 
 Fragments, 
 
 Character, 
 
 Model, 
 
 Jocose, 
 
 His, and Her's, 
 
 Ours,^and Youre, 
 
 The other, 
 
 Nolens volens. 
 
 Add to these weal for veal, winegar, wictuals, 8tc; 
 and vicked, vig, vind, veather, &c; neighbourwocd, 
 widowwood, knightwood; and a great multitude of 
 others. 
 
 Such, Sir, is the language, daily uttered in the Me- 
 tropolis of Great Britain. "But then," says Mr. 
 Pegge, "every body understands the meaning of the 
 Londoner^) and their language is not like the unintel- 
 ligible gabble of nine tenths of the provincial inhabit- 
 ants of the remoter parts of England, which none but 
 the natives can understand. Bring together two clowns 
 from Kent and Yorkshire, and I will wager a ducat, 
 ihat they will not be able to converse, for want of a 
 dialect, common to them both." 
 
 Such is the account, which a mail perfectly versed 
 :n this subject, gives in a letter to a brother Antiquari- 
 
144 Reviews published in Great Britain. 
 
 an. Its correctness you will not dispute. How great 
 a part of the English nation must speak miserable 
 English: For Yorkshire and Kent are not the only 
 counties, which furnish specimens of unintelligible 
 gabble. Your West- country dialect is still worse than 
 those of these two counties. 
 
 In the United States there is not, I presume, a de- 
 scendant of English ancestors, whose conversation is 
 not easily, and perfectly intelligible to every other: and 
 nothing like a dialect can be found in this country, un- 
 less you call by this name the German., Dutch, and 
 other foreign languages, still spoken by the Colonists, 
 derived from those nations. 
 
 Are you not ashamed, then, with these facts before 
 you, with this barbarous jargon sounding in your ears, 
 whenever you walk through the streets of London, 
 and with a full knowledge of the unintelligible gabble 
 of nine tenths of your provincial inhabitants, in the 
 parts of England remote from London, to talk with so 
 much parade about our blunders? Were you to spend 
 your life in this country, you would be unable to make 
 such a collection, as that which is here given by Mr. 
 Pegge: and nothing, remotely resembling the language 
 ascribed by this author to your provincial inhabitants, 
 can be found in this country. 
 
 I will now, Sir, proceed to the consideration of one 
 subject more, and will then finish my remarks; and 
 that is the Reviews published in Great Britain. 
 
 "It would, however, be an act of injustice to our 
 readers," says a judicious writer in the Picture of 
 London, published in 1807, "were we to omit to no- 
 tice in this place the gross abuse of public Confidence, 
 and the imposition on credulity, systematically prac- 
 tised by the Reviews, and other anonymous periodical 
 
Reviews published in Great Britain. 145 
 
 works, which pretend to give critical opinions on 
 the merit, or dement, of new Publications. 
 
 "While these professed Oracles of literature spoke 
 ilie language of good manners, and confined their 
 observations to honest remarks on the contents of the 
 books, which they affected to notice, they deserved a 
 qualified portion of public confidence; but the race of 
 Scurrility, in 'which they have lately begun to emu- 
 late each other, and the Insults, which they add ressfo 
 the persons, and private characters, of Authors, 
 have rendered them at once a disgrace to the moral 
 character of the country; a gross Abuse of tfie liber- 
 ties of the press; a scourge of genius; and a Nuis 
 ance to literature" 
 
 "On ordinary occasions it would be sufficient, to 
 refute calumny, to state, that the author of it lurked in 
 concealment; but the public have been so long impos- 
 ed upon by anonymous critics, and anonymous criti- 
 cism has so long been received without suspicion by 
 the unthinking, that it will be necessary to pursue 
 these Critical Assassins to their Retreats, and to ex- 
 hibit clear and correct views of the description of per- 
 sons, among whom they are to be found." 
 
 "We shall, in the first instance, mention as a point 
 of fact, which no person can honestly controvert, that 
 every one of the Reviews published, with perhaps not 
 more than a single exception, is the Property, or in 
 the pay, of some Bookseller; and is carried on for 
 the sole purpose of praising all his own Publications 
 and of damning, and vilifying all those which he con 
 siders as interfering with his interests. 
 
 "The pretended criticisms, which appear in these 
 anonymous publications, thus improperly and corrupt 
 ly influenced, are fabricated in some of the following 
 
146 Reviews published m G^eat Britain. 
 
 ways, or under the influence of some of the following 
 abuses. 
 
 "1st. By rival authors. Persons, who have them- 
 selves written on the subject, treated in a new book, 
 which is to be noticed, being supposed by the conduc- 
 tors of Reviews to understand the point better than 
 mere general scholars, are frequently employed to re- 
 view works in such circumstances. - This is the best., 
 and perhaps the most impartial, judgment which an 
 author ever obtains; and a Critique by a writer on 
 the same subject always commands in the arrangement 
 of a Review a place of distinction. It need scarcely be 
 stated, that an author seldom undertakes to write an 
 anonymous critique on a rival publication, who at the 
 same time is not unprincipled enough to vent all his 
 envy and malice against the book, and the person, of 
 his rival; mean enough, also, to quote his own work, 
 with applause; and impudently contrast it with the 
 new one. One, at least, of such articles appears in 
 every Review, that is published; but it generally car- 
 ries with it characteristic marks of jealousy and alarm, 
 which render it easj^ to be singled out by readers of 
 ordinary discernment. 
 
 "2. By literary Adventurers, lately arrived in 
 London from the Provinces; or by youths from sonte 
 Scotch University Young men, who persuade them- 
 selves, that their great talents can only have adequate 
 display in the Metropolis, often arrive in London, 
 ivith out any honest means of obtaining a livelihood; 
 ,and, as a first resource, tender 4;heir service to some 
 Bookseller, who publishes a Review. Here their 
 stock of Latin and Greek is generally placed in requi- 
 sition; and, till a more honourable mode of existe nee 
 presents itself, these striplings hire themselves, at two 
 
Reviews published in Great Britain. 147 
 
 or three guineas per printed sheet of 16 pages, to write 
 opinions on all manner of subjects; and under the 
 mask of the important, and oracular, "WE" make 
 the credulous part of the public believe them qualified 
 to insult every man of genius and learning in the 
 eoontry. 
 
 "3* By bankrupt Authors; the Inmates of New~ 
 gate., the Fleet, and the King's bench. Half of the 
 anonymous Criticisms, which appear, are written in 
 the Prisons of the Metropolis. Some Reviews have 
 been solely written, and conducted, by knots of impris- 
 oned critics. No method of supporting existence in 
 confinement is more easy, and more common, than 
 the business of reviewing. It lately happened, that, 
 during several months, the editors of two rival Re 
 views chummed together in one room in the Fleet 
 prison; and by their respective efforts produced two 
 critical journals of great authority among the opposite 
 partisans of Aristocracy and Democracy: The late 
 Dr. Bisset, who in the last years of his life had the 
 misfortune to pass several months in the King's bench 
 prison, boasted to the writer of this article, and to 
 some other friends, that he could produce two sheets, 
 or earn six guineas in a single day by reviewing; and 
 that, as he had interest to obtain the insertion of dif- 
 ferent articles, relative to the same book, in various 
 reviews, he could rely on an income from these la- 
 bours of full six guineas per week during his confine 
 ziient. One of his friends, who was not before in the 
 secret of this trade, exclaimed, "But how can you read 
 fche books, Doctor; so as to write two sheets of criti- 
 cism on them in a day?" "Read the books, man? 17 
 said the Doctor; "read them?- Why do you think tt re 
 
MS Reviews published in Great Britain. 
 
 viewer reads the books? That shews you know noth- 
 ing about the matter"* 
 
 "4. By personal Friends, or Enemies, of the differ- 
 ent Authors. The system of anonymous reviewing 
 renders every review a masked battery, which is play- 
 ed according to the party of those, who occupy it, 
 either on an Author by his enemies, or on the public 
 by his Friends. Any Author, who stoops to so 
 wretched a degradation, may influence in his own fa- 
 vour every criticism, that appears respecting his work, 
 by Concessions, by Bribery, or by employing some 
 known reviewer to tender his services for the occasion 
 among the various reviews. t 
 
 * If any corroboration of this point was requisite, in addition to the statement, 
 which will be found in the note, in page 153, au appeal, at proper opportunities, 
 might be made to those, who have, professionally, a peep in some small degree 
 behind the curtain. A Review ft a constant laughing stock in the office, where it 
 is printed. Let any journey-man printer, who has been some months employed 
 on one, tell how many of the books, noticed in it, have passed through his hands, 
 iu which, actually, none of the leaves had been cut open, except the very passa- 
 ges to be copied, the table of contents, and the index: or rather, what will be 
 infinitely less troublesome to him, and may be comprised in a very tew recollec- 
 tions, let him tell how many were not in that condition. Hence the eternal 
 complaints in Reviews, whenever a volume is published without an index, or a 
 table of contents. 
 
 The Reviewers are well acquainted with the remark made by fopf, 
 
 "That index learning turns no student pale > 
 Eut holds the eel of science by the tail." 
 
 J*A few months ago the -writer of these remarks, who has himself played a prin- 
 cipal part in this Farce of anonymous criticism, was applied to, on the following 
 occasion, by an old friend, a physician in the west of England, who had some 
 time previously published a medical work, of considerable merit and originality. 
 Dr. Jl. had for several years practised in a large market town; and had secured 
 the confidence of an extensive connexion. A young physician from Edinburgh, 
 had lately settled in the same place; who, having previously passed a winter ia 
 London, had there continued his acquaintance with some younj fellow students, 
 who from necessity had engaged themselves, at three guineas per sheet, to write 
 in certain reviews. Dr. A. at the time of finding a competitor in this stripling, 
 was engaged on the last chapter of a work, upon which he bad been occupied, at 
 intervals, for many years, and which was published iu the following winter. The 
 youth, who on account of the established reputation of Dr. Jl. had obtainel little 
 practice, rejoiced attte anncuacprneat cftliis work, as offering aa opportunity, by 
 
Reviews published in Great Britain. 149 
 
 "On the contrary, any virulent enemy of an Author 
 may wreak his malice by communicating gratuitous 
 criticisms to the Reviewers; some of whom do not 
 scruple to receive, and insert, such articles from per- 
 
 which he might avail himself of hfe reviewing connexion, so as to write down> 
 and depreciate, the skill and science of Dr. Jl. He accordingly obtained from 
 one of his friends a promise, that such articles, as he might send up, should be 
 inserted in several of the Reviews. Dr. A. who had for many years unsuspect- 
 ingly read the Reviews, as authorities not to be questioned, inspected them with 
 particular anxiety after the appearance of his book. At length a number, A*hich 
 contained one of the articles written by his rival, fell in his way: and the worthy 
 physician was overwhelmed with mortification to find himself treated as an Empiric, 
 a Blockhead, and an Hypothesis-monger; as one, whose patients, if he had any, 
 were objects of pity; and who was himself to be pitied for the injury, he had 
 done himself and his family by such an exposure of his ignorance. It will b* 
 easier to conceive than to describe the mingled emotions of this worthy man, oa 
 finding himself so basely misrepresented; but let the reader imagine the anguish, 
 of his feelings, when one of his friends brought in a hand-bill, which had the same 
 morning been circulated through the neighbourhood, containing an extract from, 
 this very criticism, and referring to the review, published in London, as the au- 
 thorit) . He found, that the Apothecary, in connexion with the new Physician, 
 had been very industrious in this business; but he was too little acquainted with 
 the arcana of anonymous criticism, to suspect who might be the author. Like an 
 ingenuous man of letters, he printed a reply: but this only made his case the 
 worse; for the dark insinuations, and the broad and coarse assertions, of his con- 
 cealed opponent were too strong, and too operative on the minds of those who 
 read them, to be repelled by cool argument, and by the ordinary language of a 
 well educated gentleman. In the mean time a literary friend of the Doctor's, 
 who knew something of the profligacy of criticism, convinced him, that the article 
 respecting his book was the production of some enemy; and that it would proba- 
 bly meet with similar treatment in some of the other Reviews, if he did not exert 
 himself to prevent it. It was therefore determined as the securest plan to avoid 
 the mischief, that the Doctor should visit the Metropolis, and through the means 
 of his friends there, obtain au introduction to the proprietors, and publishers, of 
 the Reviews. The first place, he drove to, was the house of the narrator of 
 these facts; and they spent two days in searching for, treating, and bribing, the 
 hirelings, ivho write for, or superintend, those journals. The result was, that 
 the Doctor obtained permission to send such accounts of his book, as might be 
 written by himself, or his immediate friends. The Doctor was now satisfied that 
 the former article had been the production of some enemy; and, though his soul 
 revolted at the task, he had undertaken, yet his endeavour to defeat the malice of 
 such a wretch stimulated him to proceed. In the course of the inquiry it appear- 
 ed, that one of the new Reviews was already in possession of an article, relative 
 to the Doctor's book; and that the writer had treated it with great severity. This 
 information afforded a clue for the discovery of the party; but the wary editor 1 
 could not be prevailed upon to shew the manuscript; nor to promise, that it 
 should not be printed. The Doctor invited him to dinner at his hotel; treated 
 him sumptuously; and, after the bottle had been freely circulated, the article was 
 sent for: when, after what has been stated, the reader will not be surprised at 
 
 20 
 
150 Reviews published in Great Britain. 
 
 sons wholly unknown to them; and instances have 
 occurred, in which with unblushing profligacy the re- 
 ceipt of such anonymous criticisms has been thankfully 
 acknowledged through the public Newspapers. 
 
 "5. By the Authors becoming their own Reviewers. 
 It may be affirmed without the hazard of denial, that 
 in every number of (a) Review, that is published, 
 there is at least one article, wi*itten by an Author on 
 his own work. As such criticisms never cost any 
 thing; their insertion may frequently be obtained by a 
 suitable application of the Author, or his friends. The 
 proprietor himself, will, under certain circumstances, 
 receive these full and able notices; but more commonly 
 their admission is secured by the person, to whom the 
 examination of the book has been assigned. The article 
 itself values, in account with the proprietor, at a cer- 
 tain number of pounds, shillings, and pence; and is 
 thought by a hungry reviewer to be a good hit; espec- 
 ially if accompanied by a bank note, or an invitation 
 to dinner. 
 
 "6. By traders in Criticism. In London there are 
 persons, who probably gain as much by composing 
 separate critiques for all the Reviews on the same book, 
 as the author who wrote it. A man of this descrip- 
 tion is generally a smatterer in some particular art, or 
 science; and, when a new book appears on his subject, 
 if he be not applied to by the different conductors of 
 Reviews, he generally tenders his services, which are 
 
 learning, that the hand writing was that of the young physician, who had for 
 some time been the Doctor's insidious rival in the country. The manuscript was 
 confided to the Doctor, on his promising to furnish another article of equal length 
 gratis; and undertaking to pay for fifty of the - Review, for three months ta 
 come, which he was to circulate, and recommend, in his county. On his return 
 home, the Doctor's solicitor immediately commenced a. course ot legal proceed* 
 ings against the young Scotchman, who, finding that he was in the Doctor's power, 
 agreed to leave that county, uu their being discontinued. 
 
Reviews published in Great Britain. 151 
 
 always accepted with thanks. Thus one and the same 
 person assumes a dozen Identities; and by varying 
 his language and opinions, so as to meet the character, 
 the views, and the party, of each of his employers, he 
 praises, and censures, and blows hot and cold, in the 
 same instant. Or perhaps a book of high price, or of 
 considerable bulk, and erudition, makes its appearance; 
 of which, at the common price of three or four guineas 
 per sheet, a critic, who would live by his trade, could 
 not repay himself for the cost, and for the labour of 
 perusal, by a single criticism: he therefore accommo- 
 dates various accounts of it to the passions, and parties, 
 of the several Reviews; and thus the labours of the 
 whole life of some learned and ingenious authors are 
 wholly at the mercy of this wholesale dealer in criti- 
 cism; perhaps an unprincipled and malicious charac- 
 ter; who, if known to the world, would be the last 
 man living, whose opinion would be received as an 
 authority on this, or any other subject whatever. 
 
 "7. By Contracting Critics, Master Critics, or those 
 who review by the lump. Several of the reviews, to 
 save trouble to the proprietors and publishers, are un- 
 dertaken, or contracted for, by one person, at so much 
 per sheet; and this man stands engaged either to write 
 the entire Review himself, or to get it written by 
 others. Delegations, two or three deep, are very com- 
 mon in this species of criticism. The contracting 
 critic receives, himself, perhaps after the rate of seven 
 guineas per sheet; but in paying his journeymen for 
 occasional aid he gives but three or four guineas. 
 The journeyman too employs a species of labourer, 
 whose province it is to skim the book, prepare the 
 general heads of the analysis, mark the extracts, &c. 
 &c.: a business which is paid for by the job, or ac- 
 cording to the size of the book. 
 
Reviews published in Great Britain. 
 
 "8. By the profligate Calculations of the conduct- 
 ors. It is a maxim, which is constantly acted upon 
 in the management of a Review, that it will not please 
 all palates, tinless it be well seasoned; or, in the tech- 
 nical language of the reviewing craft, "T/ie Review 
 will not sell, unless a sufficient number of authors^ 
 and their books, be regularly cut up." It becomes, 
 therefore, part of the ordinary business of every con- 
 ductor to take care, that there is no deficiency of 
 Sauce; and to engage a few Miscreants, well versed 
 in the language of Billingsgate. Accordingly, then, 
 to the degree of honour and feeling, possessed by the 
 conductor, or as the Review is falling or rising, in sale, 
 it will be arranged, whether the proportion of half] a 
 third, or a quarter, of the books, noticed in every num- 
 ber, are to be vilified. This direct ratio between the 
 fall in sale, and scurrility of language; and between 
 the rise in sale, and decency of language; furnishes 
 data, by which any person may, by counting the arti- 
 cles of each Character, calculate at any time the 
 Healthiness, or the Decrepitude of any Review. 
 
 "9. By the superficial view, which the hired, and 
 anonymous, critic takes of the books, oj which he 
 gives an opinion It is a fact, which will startle 
 some readers of these observations, but which a little 
 attention will confirm, that the persons who write the 
 Mordhly Catalogue in most of the Reviews, do not see 
 half the books, which they characterize; but write 
 their flippant notices, solely from the advertisements 
 in the newspapers. The present or former conduct- 
 ors of certain reviews, may blush to see this "secret of 
 their prison-house" go forth to the world; but the wri- 
 ter pledges himself to give names, and other particu- 
 lars, if the fact, to the extent he has stated, should be 
 contradicted, L*et any person turn over the Monthly 
 
Reviews published in Great Britain. 
 
 Catalogue of various Reviews for a few months, and 
 he will not ;ail to be -struck with the imposition, which 
 has been practised on him; by observing that much 
 above half of the silly Paragraphs, which are append- 
 ed to the titles of Pamphlets, and of the other works 
 in this part, would apply with as much propriety to 
 most other articles in the list, as to those to which they 
 are assigned. This is so palpable, that no more need 
 be urged to prove the existence of this flagrant abuse 
 of the name of Criticism, It may, however, be worth 
 while to explain, that, as reviewers are paid by the 
 sheet, at the rate of three, four, five,, or six guineas per 
 sixteen pages, according to their professional capacity, 
 and experience; and, as the articles in the Monthly 
 Catalogue seldom exceed a few lines each, these would 
 not produce, on an average, more than eighteen pence, 
 or two shillings, a piece; and sometimes not half of 
 the smallest of these sums. It is absurd, therefore, to 
 suppose, that, if Reviewers mean to gain a livelihood, 
 they take the trouble to read, or even to seek, such 
 unproductive trash.* 
 
 * A picture from the life will illustrate this abase better than a multitude of ob- 
 servations. A principal Reviewer, possessed of more learning than prudence, 
 had been surrendered by his bail to the custody of the Marshal of the Fleet. 
 From one of the Attics of that Dormitory of disappointed enterprise, he address- 
 ed himself to his old Friend, the bookseller in Paternoster-row; who, knowing his 
 talents, and fearing his resentment if neglected, sent a packet of eight or ten 
 new publications for the next month's Review. The Critic, who always compos- 
 ed through the medium of an Amanuensis, caused an inquiry for one to be made 
 in the prison; and presently a young man was enlisted in his service, who was 
 not devoid of intelligence, but hitherto a total stranger to the Mysteries, in which 
 he was speedily to be initiated. He seated himself with hie pen in his hand; when 
 the Reviewer untied the parcel of books; and, taking up a handsome Quarto, 
 vead the title page; and, giving the volume to the Amanuensis, desired him to 
 copylhe title. While this was performing, he took several turns in the room; and, 
 having two or three times asked impatiently whether the title was finished, he or- 
 dered the Amanuensis to write. He then dictated an opening paragraph of con- 
 siderable length; in which he abused without mercy the self-conceit of the Author 
 in supposing himself qualified for such an undertaking; enumerated the attempts, 
 that had been made by various other Persons in the same species of writing; as- 
 cribed this Work to overweening Vanity, Sec. &c. The Amanuensis was struck 
 
154 Reviews published in Great Britain. 
 
 "Accordingly, the fact is, that this department of the 
 review is committed to persons, kept on the establish- 
 ment, as the manufacturing expression is; who are 
 paid a small monthly allowance, (four or five guin- 
 eas,) for executing it; which is divided among them, 
 if more than one are employed; and is issued regular- 
 ly, in weekly portions, by the bookseller, every Mon- 
 day morning; being then frequently sent to some gaol, 
 
 with surprise: for he perceived that not a leaf of the book had been opened; and 
 was sensible, that the Dictator had not, till that moment, seen the work. He was 
 however staggered in this supposition, when he again heard himself commanded 
 to write as follows: "The ensuing passages alone will satisfy our readers of the 
 justice of these conclusions; but if we chose to multiply examples of presumption 
 and absurdity, we could fill our number with the dull conceits of this blockhead!" 
 The Reviewer now took up the volume, to seek for the passages^ which were to 
 answer this prejudication, turned over its preface rapidly, and muttered: f( This 
 fellow's determined to give one all the trouble, he can JVb contents I see! - 
 Index perhaps? JVor that neither/ Dies hard; but must be damned for all 
 that" He then angrily turned over the leaves from beginning to end; read the 
 beads of some of the chapters; and at length exclaimed, "Yes, 1 have it. Write, 
 Sir. Begin page 273, "At the same instant, that," to 278, at "hitherto proceed- 
 ed." " Now with the rapidity of lightning opening the volume further on, 
 "Write," he resumed, "This opinionated gentleman, not satisfied with differing 
 from every writer, who has preceded him, from Aristotle to Rousseau, has 
 chosen to refute all his own doctrine by the following whimsical positions. Peace 
 to his spirit! We hope never to wade through such another Augean stable; but 
 long-suffering is the lot of our fraternity. Begin page 417, "with this view," to 
 page 420, at "broad basis." And again, page 432, "It is well known," to page 
 435, at "indispensably necessary." We should have pitied the unfortunate pub- 
 lisher who ignorantly embarked his money in this wretched performance, if the 
 fellow had not the impudence to fix the price of three half guineas on a volume, 
 which, a,Jter a patient examination, we can pledge ourselves, is nst toorth three 
 farthings" Thus ended the Review of this wo; k, which has since passed 
 through several Editions; and the time, spent in this fatiguing and patient inves- 
 tigation, was exactly twenty-Jive minutes. 
 
 The Reviewer now took up the next book; which he praised as extravagantly, 
 as he had abused the other; and thus proceeded through the parcel, cutting open 
 not more than twenty pages of the whole, and praising, and damning, as his 
 Caprice, or some secret Feeling, suggested; or just as it seemed to suit the hu- 
 mour of the moment. The time, spent in thus characterizing, in dogmatical 
 and vehement language, tws Quartos, five Octavos, two Duodecimos, and two 
 JPamphlets, -was about two hours and half.' The Amanuensis, on turning af- 
 terwards to the highly reputed Review, in which these elaborate criticisms were 
 displayed, found, that they ocsupied one third of the Number.' He declined any 
 further participation in so disgraceful an employment, and has since communicated 
 the above Facts to various persons, and among others to the writer of these re,. 
 marks,. 
 
Reviews published in Great Britain. 155 
 
 like the creditors' sixpences, which become due on that 
 day; or given to some of the upper assistants in the 
 booksellers* shops, who are sometimes employed at 
 this business in their spare hours. Such being a cor- 
 rect dtscription of the persons, and the practices, of 
 those who write anonymous criticisms, is it to be 
 wondered at, that these people uniformly deny their 
 craft; and that a greater insult cannot be offered to 
 one of these pioneers of Grubstreet, than to insinuate, 
 that he writes for any review? Not only is the prac- 
 tice disavowed by the whole fraternity, but if you 
 knew a man to be a scribbler in reviews, and were to 
 ask if he wrote an article, in itself meritorious, he 
 would deem even this an insult, never to be forgiven! 
 It is true that some reviewers are well known: but 
 these are generally either young in the trade, and not 
 yet acquainted with the infamy, attached to it; or 
 coxcombs, whose vanity supersedes every other feel- 
 ing. Boys at school, and half informed people in the 
 country, consult these oracles with so much unsus- 
 pecting credulity, that a Stripling from a Scotch Uni- 
 versity, who is admitted to perform the lowest offices 
 in these Temples of Imposition, considers himself as 
 having become part of the Godhead, and gives him- 
 self Airs accordingly.* 
 
 "There is, however, one class of men, who give occa- 
 sional countenance to Reviewers without intending the 
 mischief, which they thus assist in perpetrating. These*; 
 are certain vain Pedants at our Universities; who, 
 knowing little of the world, consider Reviews as ex- 
 actly what they appear to be; and having no readier 
 means of displaying their knowledge of particular sub- 
 
 * A certain Northern Review is now written chiefly in London by young men., 
 who have but just finished their attendance on their University Lectures; artd 
 the oldest of them is ssuti lyrt to exceed fire and twenty years of age. 
 
156 Reviews published in Great Britain. 
 
 jects are often flattered by having some abstruse Work 
 committed to them by the conductor of the Review, 
 Tickled by this kind of compliment, they cannot con- 
 ceal it from certain intimates, who circulate the fact in 
 the university, that Dr. writes for the Re- 
 view; and thus half the world are led to suppose, that' 
 Reviews are written, con amore, by men of real honour 
 and learning. Professors in universities ought to be- 
 ware of thus becoming the dupes of their vanity, by 
 enlisting themselves among a race of impostors, as 
 base and unprincipled as ever disgraced society. 
 Their names, and their talents, ought to be reserved 
 for worthier purposes, than that of giving countenance 
 to hired, and anonymous defamation. 
 
 "Conclusion. The obvious inference from all, that 
 has been stated, is this; that the great Vice of Review- 
 ing exists in the concealment of the Writers; and thatj 
 while anonymous Criticism is tolerated, it is impossible 
 even for a conductor, who is a man of integrity, to 
 guard against its corruptions, and its abuse. 
 
 "A learned and gentlemanly Critic would be able, 
 though he signed his name to his criticism, to perform 
 ample justice to an author, and the public. He could 
 not adopt the impertinent, arrogant, and boasting style 
 of the present contemptible race of Anonymous Re- 
 viewers; but his Inferences and Opinions, would be 
 received with Respect; the Public would be enlight- 
 ened; and Error and Imposition would be corrected 
 and exposed. Authors could assure themselves, that 
 their books were seen, and read, before they were de- 
 cided upon, and the public would appreciate justly the 
 value of a decision, thus made, and thus guaranteed. 
 
 "Those, who contend that Critics, under such a sys- 
 tem, dare not do their duty, either do not understand 
 what is meant by the word Criticism; or do not con- 
 
Reviews published in Great Britain. 157 
 
 sider what was the object of Reviews. Our essayists, 
 from Addison to Cumberland and Knox, afford speci- 
 mens of criticism, such as no Man could have cause to 
 disown, and such as would always be received with 
 avidity by the public. True literary Criticism in the 
 hands of real Scholars is the opposite of every thing , 
 that characterizes our modern Reviews; it never 
 searches for personal anecdotes of Authors, or con- 
 founds in its Disquisitions his Foibles, or Weaknesses, 
 with the merits of his performance; it never magnifies 
 blemishes, shuts its eye to beauties, becomes the tool of 
 a party, either political or literary, misquotes, delights 
 in abusive and violent epithets, or arrogates its own in- 
 fallibility! It is, in a word, a liberal science, which no 
 honest Man need be ashamed to exercise and avow; 
 but in the hand of a concealed assassin it may be, (and 
 unfortunately is,) converted to the most destructive 
 and diabolical purposes. True Criticism, like Char- 
 ity, "suffereth long and is kind; envieth not; vaunt- 
 eth not itself; is not puffed up; doth not behave itself 
 unseemly; seeketh not her own; (is not selfish;) is not 
 easily provoked; thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in in- 
 iquity, but rejoiceth in the truth.' 5 
 
 "Yet as the vice exists chiefly in the anonymous 
 character of the system, the moral views of the Con- 
 ductor of every Review are not intended to be called 
 in question. One or two of those gentlemen are 
 known to be men of character; who would not wil- 
 fully participate in the grosser Abuses of the reviewing 
 trade: but those Abuses are too inherent in the system 
 to be successfully guarded against; and as these gentle- 
 men must be perfectly sensible of this Truth, it is a 
 Duty which they owe to the world, to affix the names 
 of those, who write in their critical journals, to their 
 respective articles, in order that the public may pos- 
 21 
 
158 Reviews published in Great Britain. 
 
 sess the only Guarantee, which can be given of the 
 candour and integrity of such Writers; and also that 
 their journals may secure a continuance of that Confi- 
 dence and Support, which has hitherto been unthink- 
 ingly? an d ignorantly, reposed in them."* 
 
 "The author of the preceding statement of facts 
 thinks it proper to add, that in drawing it up he has 
 been solely actuated by a love of truth, a hatred of 
 Imposture, and a sense of duty to the literary world, 
 and the public. No honourable or conscientious Re- 
 viewer (though the writer believes that few men of that 
 character can long continue the employment of writing 
 anonymous opinions on others,) will be offended at this 
 just exposition of the misconduct of those, who abuse 
 their office. He hopes to live to see a reformation in 
 the system; and that, if a respectable and independent 
 body of literary characters cannot be persuaded to 
 
 * "Next in importance to the newspapers are the works of periodical criticism, 
 which are here called Reviews. Of late years it has become impossible to place 
 any reliance upon the opinions, given by these journals; because their party spirit 
 now extends to every thing. Whatever be the object of a book, though as remote 
 as possible from all topics of political dissention, it is judged of according to the pol- 
 itics of the author: for instance, one of these journals has pronounced it to be Jaco- 
 binical to read Hebrew without points. There are other reasons, why there is s^> 
 little fair criticism. Many, perhaps the majority, of these literary censors, are 
 authors themselves; and as such in no very high estimation with the public. 
 Baboons are said to have an antipathy to men, andthese, tvho are the baboons of lit' 
 erature, have the same sort of hatred to those, -whose superiority they at once feel 
 and deny. You are not, however, to suppose, that the general character of these 
 journals is that of undeserved severity: they have as many to praise as to blame; 
 and their commendations are dealt upon the same principle, or want of principle, 
 as their censures. England is but a little country; and the communication between 
 all its parts is so rapid, tbe men of letters are so few, and the circulation of soci- 
 ety brings them all so often to London, as the heart of the system, that they are 
 all directly, or indirectly, known to each other. A writer is praised because he is 
 a friend, or a friend's friend; or he must be condemned for a similar reason. For 
 the most part the praise cf these critics is milk and iuater t and their censure sour 
 small beer. Sometimes, indeed, they deal in stronger materials; but then the oil, 
 ivhich flattery lays on, is train oil, andit stirks: and the dirt -which Malevolence 
 thro-ws, is ordure; and it sticks to her o~xn fingers" Espriella. Letter 56. 
 
 If Mr. Southey wrote the Review of Incfuquin, I request him to read this pas- 
 sage in Espriella with attention. 
 
Reviews published in Great Britain. 159 
 
 sanction a Review by their names, the public contempt 
 of anonymous and systematic scurrility will render it 
 harmless and unprofitable." 
 
 How greatly are mankind indebted to this frank, 
 honest-hearted writer for these disclosures; for open- 
 ing to the day-light this den of Cacus; and exhibiting 
 the deformed beings which it contains; the robberies, 
 which they perpetrate upon the reputation, the peace, 
 and the principles of their fellow men; the foul spirit, 
 by which they are governed; and the fire and smoke 
 poured out upon the world by these collections of 
 banditti. What a story are w told, when we are in- 
 formed by this Writer, that we are indebted to bank- 
 rupts, and inmates of Newgate, the Fleet, and King's 
 Bench prisons for halftJie anonymous criticisms, that 
 is, for half .of all, 'which is contained in the Reviews, 
 published in Great Britian; and that some whole 
 Works, under this name, have been solely written and 
 conducted by knots of imprisoned critics: a set of 
 scoundrels, whom the Justice of your country has 
 driven from among mankind, and confined by bolts 
 and grates. From such wretches what could a sober 
 man expect but just such Reviews, as those, with which 
 Great Britain (deluges the world? J do not deny, that 
 among these efforts there are now and then specimens 
 of talents, and in a few instances of superiour talents; 
 but those of candour, common honesty, and common 
 decency are lamentably rare. Amid all the base re- 
 flections, cast upon the people of the United States, for 
 their destitution of understanding, and worth, in these 
 dirty-minded effusions pf spite and ribaldry, there is 
 not one, half so humiliating, as the &ct,that the Edin- 
 burgh and Quarterly Reviews are republished in 
 country. 
 
160 Reviews published in Great Britain. 
 
 Among the remarkable things, for which the world 
 is indebted to this Writer, the information that these 
 dictators in the empire of learning and taste do not 
 even read the books which they professedly review. 
 "Mead the books, man?" said Dr Bisset to his friend; 
 "read them? Why do you think that a Reviewer reads 
 the books? That shews, that you know nothing about 
 the matter." I hope my own countrymen will re- 
 member, that the accounts, so magisterially given in 
 these receptacles of folly and falsehood concerning 
 the various works, which they hash with so little de- 
 cency, are given without reading the works them- 
 selves; sentences, pronounced before the cause is ar- 
 gued, the witnesses heard, or the prisoner even known, 
 by a Jury, packed, bought, and perjured. How dif- 
 ferent from all this are the fair, upright, and gentle- 
 manly, Reviews, published in the Christian Observer* 
 
 In the mean time, a great part of these efforts are ? 
 it seems, the panegyrics of the personal friends, or 
 the invectives of the personal enemies, of the different 
 authors reviewed. "Any author, who will stoop to so 
 wretched a degradation, may influence in his own fa- 
 vour every criticism, that appears respecting his 
 work, by concessions, and by bribery. 77 These volumes 
 of iniquity are, therefore, partly made up of the despi- 
 cable flattery of Toad-eaters, and partly of the snaky 
 virulence of anonymous hatred, pouring out its vindic- 
 tive malice from the burrow, in which it has hidden 
 itself from the public eye. 
 
 But this in not all. The author himself becomes 
 his own Reviewer. "It may be affirmed," says this 
 respectable Writer, "without the hazard of denial, that 
 in every number of a Review, that is published, there 
 is at least one article, written by an author on his 
 own Work." Proh pudor! A pretty employment, in.- 
 
He views published in Great Britain. 161 
 
 deed, for a decent man to peruse a series of panegyr- 
 ical observations upon a book, and to learn in the end, 
 that they are the miserable, dishonest self-adulation of 
 the author! 
 
 Nor is this alh These literary journals are conduct- 
 ed, to a considerable extent, by traders in Criticism; 
 who compose separate Critiques on the same bock, for 
 different Reviews; praise and blame alternately; 
 blow hot and cold with the same mouth, and at the 
 same instant; and, if known to the world, would be 
 the last men living, whose opinion would be received 
 as an authority on any subject whatever. 
 
 Even all this is not enough. At all events, "the Re- 
 view is to be well seasoned, and will not sell, unless 
 a sufficient member of authors, and their works, are 
 cut up" Every conductor, it seems, as a part of his 
 ordinary business "takes care, that there is no deficien- 
 cy of sauce; and engages a few miscreants, who are 
 well versed in the language of Billingsgate." You, 
 Sir, have the honour of being supposed to be the Pat- 
 ron of a Review. Permit me to ask how many of 
 these miscreants you have engaged; or, if you have not 
 engaged them, and this part of the business is done by 
 a conductor under your patronage (as from your 
 character, and station, I own I am induced to believe,) 
 does it not seem to you, that it is time, that these mis* 
 creants were dismissed from their employment; at 
 least that they should fight no longer behind your 
 shield? 
 
 A considerable portion of the criticism, published 
 in these Journals, is usually made up in a batch, styl- 
 ed the Monthly Catalogue. In the books named in 
 this list, we are informed, "the Reviewers do not even 
 see one half" This, indeed, is only of a piece with 
 the rest, and after what has been said demands no pe- 
 culiar censure. 
 
162 Reviews published in Great Britain. 
 
 What a picture is here given of the literary Jour- 
 nals of Great Britain? for the Edinburgh Review is 
 plainly included in the author's list, by the note, which 
 he has added concerning it; and has too many inter- 
 nal proofs of belonging to this foul mass, to suffer a 
 rational doubt of the justice of the inclusion. The 
 whole story wears every mark of truth. The particu- 
 larity, with which the iniquitous system is detailed, and 
 the accordance of the several parts with each other, 
 bear strong testimony to the truth of the representation. 
 Besides, the Writer has openly defied a contradiction 
 to his statement, and has promised, in answer to it, to 
 give names, and other particulars. But no individu- 
 al of this motley tribe has thought it proper to venture 
 upon such dangerous ground. Until this shall be 
 done, the account is to be admitted as true; and those, 
 who are stigmatized by it, whether in prison, or out 
 of it, are to be regarded as a despicable clan of ma- 
 rauders on the principles, the peace, and the happi- 
 ness, of their fellow men. 
 
 Now, Sir, permit me to ask to which of these class- 
 es the Reviewer of Inchiquin's Letters, belongs. Is he 
 "a literary Adventurer, lately arrived in London 
 from the Provinces; or a Youth from some Scotch 
 University?" Is he a "Bankrupt; an Inmate of the 
 King's Bench, of the Fleet, or of Newgate?" Is he "a 
 trader in Criticism, a Contracting critic; a Master 
 critic;" who employs journeymen and apprentices in 
 his business; one of those, ' Wzo review by the lump?" 
 Is he "a Miscreant, well versed in the language of 
 Billingsgate;" "a disgrace to the moral charade** of 
 his country, and a nuisance to literature?" Or has 
 he passed through all these gradations; rolled on 
 through the slough of scandal; and contracted con- 
 tinually more and deeper stains of baseness and prof- 
 
Reviews published in Great Britain. 16* 
 
 ligacy? I will leave it to you, Sir, to answer these 
 questions. 
 
 The remarks, which I have proposed to make on 
 this shameful production are fjnishe d. Indulge me now 
 in a few observations concerning the system of con- 
 tempt, and abuse, so generally pursued by English 
 travellers in this country, and reviewers in Great 
 Britain. 
 
 Let me ask you in the first place, "Cui bono eriW 
 This question is with particular propriety addressed to 
 you, Sir; a man of talents, a professed patriot, and a 
 statesman. This writer asserts, that the Americans 
 indulge an intense hatred towards Great Britain. 
 Whence is the assertion derived? Is the proof found 
 in the war, which our Government has declared 
 against yours? That our Government, independently 
 of this act, is hostile to yours, there can be no reasona- 
 ble doubt, if by our Government we understand Mr. 
 Madison and his minions. But even they did not 
 declare war on this ground. Mr. Madison wanted a 
 re-election. The Georgians wanted to lay hold on 
 the Floridas, that they might no longer be an asylum 
 for their runaway slaves. The people of Tennessee 
 wanted to get possession of the river Mobile. Those 
 of Kentucky wanted to possess themselves of Indian 
 lands; and those of Ohio wished to be delivered from 
 the fear of savage incursions. The people of Virgin- 
 ia wished to preserve the reigning Dynasty, and to 
 keep the throne in the regular Virginian succession. 
 By all these, or by the leaders of all these, it was an- 
 nounced to Mr. Madison, as I verily believe, that, un- 
 less he would consent to the war, they would with- 
 hold from him their suffrages. In the mean time their 
 great friend, the Emperor Napoleon, was expected to 
 drive Alexander from his throne, and to overrun Ru$- 
 
164 Reviews published in Great Britain. 
 
 sla with French Myrmidons. The Continental sys- 
 tem was to be carried into complete execution: Great 
 Britain was to supplicate, and, if possible, obtain, 
 peace from the French Emperor: and then all these 
 sorts of men were to see themselves in full possession 
 of their wishes. 
 
 But a just and merciful God has frustrated the de- 
 signs of them all. The whole project was iniquitous, 
 and has been blasted. The Emperor Alexander tri- 
 umphed over the monstrous force which invaded his 
 country. The Duke of Wellington has delivered Spain 
 and Portugal. The allies have redeemed Europe. 
 Great Britain, at the end of a twenty-two years war, 
 during a great part of which she has stood as a barrier 
 against the ruin of the world, and has acquired more 
 glory than she could ever boast before, sees herself in 
 full possession of all her power and greatness. Even 
 France, after suffering miseries which defy computa- 
 tion, and leave the mind s which attempts to compre- 
 hend them, lost in astonishment, is placed under a 
 free and equitable system of government; and hence- 
 forth may, if she pleases, be happy. In all this I, and 
 millions of my countrymen, rejoice. 
 
 But there is nothing in the American part of this 
 story, which indicates any thing like a national hatred 
 of Great Britain. Every part of it is a spot on our 
 character, so far as we have been concerned in it: but 
 the shame rests, chiefly, on a number of men, not very 
 great; who have cheated into the adoption of it 
 another number, which, I acknowledge, is much 
 greater. 
 
 Your Reviewer is perfectly aware, that the people 
 of the United States are divided into two great political 
 parties, spread almost evenly over the whole country. 
 The Federalists, who are a decided majority in sev- 
 
Effects of Contempt and Ill-nature. 165 
 
 en, if not in eight States, and are numerous in most 
 of the others, totally exceed their antagonists in wealth, 
 talents, reputation, and virtue. These men are, in this 
 country, continually reproached by the Democrats for 
 being friends to Great Britain. The charge is false in 
 the sense, in which it is alleged: in a higher and more 
 honourable sense it is true. While they are incom- 
 parably better friends to their own country than the 
 authors of the charge, they are firmer, and better 
 friends to yours, than any equal collection of men in 
 the world, not included in your own dominions. They 
 have most cordially wished you success in your con- 
 test with the enemy of mankind, and exult in your 
 final victory. Your unjust, and unwise, measures to- 
 wards this country; (for you have entered into many 
 such measures;) they censure firmly: our injustice, and 
 folly, towards you they reprobate still more severely, 
 because they are more gross. But, while they know, 
 that it is their first political duty to promote the pros- 
 perity of their own country, it will require a train of 
 injuries, on your part, to make them hostile, or even 
 indifferent, to that of Great Britain. 
 
 Yet, it is undoubtedly possible by a series of efforts, 
 suited to the purpose, to fritter away the good 
 will of any man, or any nation, towards any other. 
 In private life, contempt and ill nature will usually 
 accomplish this end within a moderate period. No 
 alienations are more absolute than such, as are pro- 
 duced by these means. The sting may be extracted; 
 but the poison will be left behind, and will there ran- 
 kle for a time, to which limits cannot be easily assign- 
 ed. This ill nature, this contempt, have been poured 
 upon the American people for several years in tor- 
 rents of abuse and falsehood. Many of the publica- 
 tions, in which they run. are issued again from our 
 
American Commerce. 
 
 presses: and many more have been imported. Botita 
 are extensively read with answering contempt, and 
 strong feelings of indignation. If you wish us to be 
 your enemies, proceed. The task to a spirit of bitter 
 ness will be easy; and the success certain. 
 
 The question is, however, worth a little candid and 
 sober consideration; what will you gain by estab- 
 lishing a firm and enduring hostilty between the peo- 
 ple of Great Britain and the people of the United 
 States? Will you promote a single interest of your 
 own country? Commerce is one of its interests; the im- 
 portance of which you announce to the world in al- 
 most all your laws, political regulations, and political 
 books. On commerce a great part of your people sub- 
 sist. For injuries done to your commerce many of 
 your wars have been declared. 
 
 Some of your people have been disposed to con- 
 sider us as commercial rivals. This opinion is built, 
 not upon truth and good sense, but upon jealousy and 
 avarice. The world is wide enough to furnish com- 
 mercial prosperity to every nation, which will seek it 
 with industry, enterprise and perseverance: and both 
 you and we may labour in this field, to the utmost, 
 with every honest exertion, without doing or suffering. 
 a single injury. A little expansion of views, united 
 with a little equity of disposition, would teach thi<; 
 truth to any man capable of comprehending the sub- 
 ject. A war, of one year, may easily injure your com- 
 merce more than twenty years of our rivalry. War 
 between you and us, on this ground, is of exactly the 
 same nature with a litigation between two brothers 
 concerning their patrimony; which, while it produces 
 alienation, hatred and wretchedness, wastes the very 
 property, about which they quarrel. 
 
American Manufactures. 167 
 
 But there is another view of this subject, not less 
 important to you, and more easily realized by eager 
 and avaricious men. We are the best customers, which 
 you have or which you can have. We have been so 
 long habituated to the use of your manufactures, that 
 we steadily prefer them to those of any other people. 
 Our commerce with your dominions has amounted, 
 regularly, to two thirds, or three fourths, and always 
 to more than half, of our whole trade. Cherish it with 
 a spirit of moderation and equity, and this proportion 
 will not be diminished. Persecute us for a seasen; and 
 it will be soon shrivelled far towards annihilation. 
 
 If proofs of this assertion are necessary; the present 
 state of our Manufactures furnishes such as are ample. 
 These, according to the returns, made to the Secreta- 
 ry of the Treasury in 1 8 iO, are estimated at more than 
 one hundred and seventy two millions of dollars. 
 From that period they have increased, not only be- 
 yond all example, but all belief. You may judge for 
 yourself. All the manufactures in the State of Rhode 
 Island amounted, according to this estimate, only to 
 1,170,074 dollars. In 1814, the Cotton manufactures 
 of this State produced cotton goods, of the value 
 of 8,500,000 dollars. An increase of manufactures, of 
 many kinds, though not equally yet very great, has 
 spread over most of this country. Many of the pro- 
 ducts of these labours are not inferiour to any, of the 
 same kinds, which are imported. This is true of our 
 best Cloths: a manufacture, which has already been 
 extended, and is now extending with a rapidity, ex- 
 ceeding even the sanguine expectation of projectors. 
 The Merino sheep, which have multiplied here with 
 very great success, and which, instead of depreciating, 
 inprove in our pastures, furnish a solid basis for the 
 jei'petuity of our manufacturing establishments, of this 
 
168 American Manufactures. 
 
 class. Others, of many kinds have been increased with 
 similar rapidity and similar success. 
 
 A moderate period of time, spent in mutual provo- 
 cations and hostilities, will detach the people of this 
 country from their habits of using British manufac- 
 tures, and rivet th r attachment to their own. When 
 it is remembered, that this country abounds, or may 
 easily abound, in materials of almost every kind for 
 the exercise of manual ingenuity; that we. have wood, 
 iron, leather, wool, cotton, flax, hemp, grain, tobacco, 
 salt-petre, sulphur, dying materials, all the kinds of 
 earths, and every useful species of stone; particularly, 
 immense quantities, and very beautiful varieties, of 
 marble; that silk is already made here in considerable 
 quantities, as easily, and of as good a quality, as in 
 Italy; that mines of various metals are discovered al- 
 most every year; that we have mill- streams, suffi- 
 ciently numerous to supply water-works of every kind 
 for several such countries; that we have invented, and 
 adopted, many modes of abridging labour, and that 
 every such mode is a benefit to the whole community, 
 without being injurious to a single individual; and that 
 we have sufficient capital, ingenuity, enterprise, and 
 perseverance, to carry into execution every thing of 
 this nature, which can be of importance to our prosper- 
 ity: when these things are remembered by a discreet 
 Englishman, he will believe without much difficulty, 
 that we shall soon find both our interests, and our 
 prejudices, advantageously consulted by preferring the 
 fruits of our own labour even to those of British in- 
 dustry. 
 
 There is another point of view, in which the im- 
 portance of these considerations is still more strongly 
 illustrated. In the year 1810, the people of the Unit- 
 ed States amounted to more than seven millions. In 
 
American Imports. 169 
 
 twenty five years they will amount to fourteen mil* 
 lious: at least they have hitherto increased in this pro- 
 portion. In twenty five years, therefore, our con- 
 sumption of your manufactures, if the natural course of 
 things should be uninterrupted, will be double. In 
 fifty years it will be quadrupled. In seventy five, we 
 shall take off all the superfluous products of your in- 
 dustry. Such a source of custom was never before 
 opened to any nation in the world. It will be unwise 
 in your Statesmen to promote, either in your people, 01 
 in ours, any dispositions, or any efforts, which may 
 prevent, or seriously disturb, a progress of things, of 
 which you may avail yourselves with so much ease, 
 and so much benefit. 
 
 The Returns, which we make for your manufac- 
 tures, are more useful to you than any other. They are 
 either money, or raw materials, on which the indus- 
 try of your people is to operate; essential to their 
 prosperity, and even to their support; furnished on 
 better terms than you could obtain them elsewhere; 
 many of them inexhaustible; and some of them not 
 otherwise attainable without a considerable sacrifice. 
 Were the decision of this question left to a sober mer- 
 chant, common sense would teach him irresistibly., 
 that a voluntary relinquishment of such advantages 
 would be little less than lunacy. 
 
 You will perhaps reply, that the causes of such an 
 event lie with us, and not with you. As proof, that 
 the assertion is just, you will probably allege the meas- 
 ures of our Government, and particularly its declara- 
 tion of war against you. I readily allow, that the al- 
 legation is plausible, and that to an Englishmen it 
 may very naturally appear decisive. Still it is un- 
 sound: and if you and your countrymen understood 
 the real state of things on this side of the Atlantic, you 
 
170 Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Madison. 
 
 would acknowledge it to be unsound. Mr, Jefferson 
 and Mr. Madison are unquestionably hostile to Great 
 Britain. Their measures have proved this so clearly, 
 that to doubt it would be an insult to one's own un- 
 derstanding, and to question it, to the understanding 
 of others. But they have been less hostile to you 
 than to us: and a conviction of this truth has spread 
 very far among their own adherents. Except the 
 Missions of Pike, Lewis* and Clark, to explore the 
 Mississippi and Missouri, there is not a single measure 
 originated by either, during the fourteen years of 
 their reign, which has reflected the least credit upon 
 their character, or produced the least benefit to the 
 United States. Mr. Jefferson, indeed, sent a fleet, 
 which he truly styled "the least competent force," to 
 humble the insolence of the Bashaw of Tripoli: but 
 had not Preble and Eaton transcended his orders, 
 and with an elevation of character, of which he never 
 formed a conception, accomplished what he never in- 
 tended, nor believed to be possible; the Bashaw would 
 have laughed at Mr. Jefferson, and continued his dep- 
 redations on our commerce, and our seamen, to the 
 present hour. The truth is; Mr. Jefferson, though 
 possessed of considerable ingenuity, and a good deal 
 of cunning, is absolutely destitute of wisdom, as well 
 as of principle; of that sound, practical good sense, 
 which alone has ever been of any use to mankind in 
 the management of either their public or their private 
 affairs. Of Mr. Madison it is enough to say, that, 
 without the cunning of his Master, he has humbly 
 trodden in his steps. If the art of governing consisted 
 in originating, or defending, abstract propositions, or 
 general principles, Mr. Madison would not have been 
 without his share of reputation among rulers. But as it 
 actually consists in the exercise of practical good sense 
 
Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Madison. 171 
 
 and skill in the business of man, directed, as well as 
 prompted, by a public, and not a party, spirit; no 
 niche will ever be furnished for his reception among 
 Respectable men of this character. 
 
 Still, they have been useful instructors to the Amer- 
 ican people. Mr. Jefferson has taught us, that Infi- 
 delity is an unprofitable spirit, and cunning an un- 
 profitable guide, in the management of national inter- 
 ests. Mr. Madison, as well as his Master, has strongly 
 exhibited the visionary nature of theoretical specula- 
 tions in the public concerns of mankind. From both, 
 also, have we learned, that far other moral dispositions, 
 than such as are possessed by these gentlemen, are 
 necessary in the Ruler, who is to do good to his coun- 
 try. Mr. Jefferson found this country, as he says,"i;j 
 the full tide of successful experiment:" under his admin- 
 istration, and that of his successor, these overflowing 
 waters have all receded, and left their channel bare. 
 
 But we shall not always be ruled by such men, as 
 these. Their measures have already wearied the con- 
 fidence, and nearly exhausted the patience, even of 
 party spirit, blind and bigoted as it is. Like other 
 nations we shall, at times, have good Rulers: and the 
 community will in the end, like other communities, 
 vibrate back to sobriety and common sense. The 
 present generation of Americans may not, indeed, 
 cease to be politically infatuated: the next will see all 
 these things in their true light; and be astonished, that 
 they were not thus seen by their fathers. They will 
 discern, from the experiment, which we have made, 
 what half of the existing generation perfectly under- 
 stood before, that the United Slates have not, and can- 
 not have, any possible interest in making an offensive 
 war; that neither their situation, nor the nature of 
 their government, permit them to engage in such a 
 
17' Character of the English Nation. 
 
 war; and that all their prosperity is involved in the 
 continuance of peace. These truths every impartial 
 American has long since understood; and they are 
 now extensively believed even by prejudice itself. 
 
 The present war, therefore, and the present Rulers, 
 furnish no solid evidence, that even our Government 
 will be permanently hostile to yours; much less that 
 the Nation will feel this hostility. 
 
 The character of your nation is well understood on 
 this side of the Atlantic. By a great part of the peo- 
 ple of the United States full justice is done to your 
 talents and your worth, your institutions and your 
 efforts. We know, that you are a great nation, and 
 have achieved distinguished glory in many ways, and 
 those of supreme importance. But we do not think, 
 that you have any knack at making friends. You form 
 too high an estimate of your own importance to suffer 
 you to be agreeable to others; loftily claim the respect, 
 which other nations solicit; and receive it as a tribute, 
 where other nations receive it as a proof of civility. In 
 their books, and in their conversation, Englishmen 
 are, more than any people, busied in comparing them- 
 selves with other nations, and whatever is contained in 
 England with the same or similar things, found in 
 other countries. The result of this comparison is 
 almost always in favour of themselves, and of what- 
 ever is theirs. Their climate, their soil, their weather, 
 their productions, their talents, their institutions, their 
 religion, their church, their manners, their morals, are 
 all better than the same things in any other country. 
 They, only, are clean, and neat, in their persons, and 
 houses. They, only, have good beef. Their peaches, 
 under a half frosty sun, are better than those of the 
 United States, with all the advantages which the finest 
 seasons can give; and a Scotchman, noting on 
 
Insolence of English Travellers. 173 
 
 rich fruits of this country, will gravely inform you, 
 that they are not so gude, as those, which grow in the 
 garden of the Duke of Argyle. American apples are 
 exported to England in great quantities; and are cried 
 in your markets at high prices; yet an Englishman, 
 sojourning in the United States, pronounces without 
 hesitation, that they are far inferiour to the apples of 
 his own country. An Englishman, not long since 
 travelling in the State of New York,, stopped at. an 
 inn in Poughkeepsie. Here he called for a beef 
 steak; and at the same time complained bitterly, that 
 he had not found a single good dish, of this kind, since 
 he had been in America. The inn-keeper told him, 
 that he would giv r e him one: and going into the 
 kitchen, ordered the cook to sprinkle the steak with 
 sulphur. The Englishman pronounced it delicious. 
 
 This comparison occupies a great part of the con- 
 versation of your countrymen; and is regularly made 
 with haughty airs, and in an imperious style; and, 
 however pleasant to him, who makes it, is not apt to 
 be very agreeable to others. Were we to receive it 
 tamely, we should deserve the contempt, which you 
 heap upon us with so much liberality. 
 
 Nor is this insolence exhibited to us only. Your 
 treatment of other nations is seasoned with the same 
 spicery. Wherever it exists, it is felt, resented, and re- 
 membered. The last Englishman, whom we have 
 seen, has treated us in this manner: we expect the 
 same treatment from the next; and are not often dis- 
 appointed. / never knew Jriends made by this con~ 
 duct. Frenchmen, known to possess scarcely a twen- 
 tieth part of your honesty, and inferiour to you in 
 every other respectable attribute, beside civility, will 
 secure many friends, where you only make enemies. 
 
174 Conclusion. 
 
 How will you justify this imperious spirit, and be- 
 haviour? Look at the picture, which I have drawn 
 of your character as a people, from your own books; 
 and those, of unquestionable authority. Can you see 
 in it any reasons even to palliate this insolence? The 
 stains are numerous, and dark: while I cheerfully ac- 
 knowledge the ground-work to be bright. The 
 SAVIOUR of mankind, when solicited by the Pharisees 
 to condemn a miserable woman, apprehended in the 
 commission of adultery, directed u him, who was with- 
 out sin" among them, to cast the first stone at this cul- 
 prit. When your nation has cleansed itself, it will be 
 soon enough for you to stone others. 
 
 In spite of all your contempt, and of all your asper- 
 sions, the inhabitants of the American States will, in 
 the ordinary course of Providence, become a numerous, 
 and, permit rne to say, a great and prosperous nation. 
 Our advantages of situation, soil, and climate, of man- 
 ners, laws, morals, and religion, are such, whatever 
 your Reviewer's, and your Travellers, may think 
 concerning us, that we shall multiply, increase in 
 strength, improve in arts and knowledge, and, I hope, 
 advance in morals, to such a degree, as to compel other 
 nations to respect us; even if we should continue to be 
 hated and despised by you. 
 
 You will say, perhaps, that our government is bad, 
 Yours, during a great part of your national exis* 
 fence, has been worse. You have made it, in your own 
 opinion, the best in the world. Time may enable us 
 to improve ours. You assert, that our Rulers are 
 weak and wicked. You have had many such. We, as 
 well as you, may at times have better. You censure 
 us for our party spirit. Look at your own people, 
 arrayed against each other under the banners of 
 York and Lancaster; and pouring out the blood of 
 
Conclusion. 175 
 
 one hundred thousand men, to determine the important 
 question, Whether the White, or the Red, Rose should 
 prevail; and then remember, that in our party jang- 
 lings not a life has hitherto been lost, except that of 
 the brave General Lingan: a martyr to the violence 
 of just such a mob, as you have often seen rolling 
 through the streets of London. Even he was butchered 
 by foreigners. There are many things, which disgrace, 
 and distress, this country: but there is nothing which 
 forbids a rational belief, that it may at no great distance 
 of time, be peaceful, virtuous, and happy. 
 
 But there is another point of view, in which these 
 attempts to establish alienation, and hostility, between 
 you and us, are still more to be regretted. A great 
 number of your people, with a spirit, in the highest 
 degree honourable to themselves, and singularly glo- 
 rious to your country, have begun, within a few years, 
 to send throughout the world the Word of God, and 
 Ministers to preach it. The progress, which they have 
 made, is scarcely less astonishing than the rise, and the 
 dow r nfal of Na/poleon; and has excited the admiration, 
 and called forth the blessings, of good, and even of 
 bad men, in every part of Christendom. Multitudes, 
 in many countries, have cordially united themselves 
 to these Benefactors of the world. In this country 
 there are many Missionary, and at least sixty-five Bi- 
 ble Societies: and both are increasing in their num- 
 bers, and their efforts. All these are equally desirous 
 to co-operate with your countrymen in this exalted 
 design. To me, Sir, it seems unhappy, that any ob- 
 struction should be thrown in their way. Were you 
 to ask Lord Teignmouth, Mr. Wilberforce, or many 
 thousands of others, who adorn your country with in- 
 telligence and virtue, I am persuaded that they would 
 answer you in similar terms. When it is remember- 
 
176 Conclusion. 
 
 cd, that the English Language is now established, to 
 a considerable extent, in the four quarters of the globe, 
 and in New Holland also, you will see that a founda- 
 tion is laid for making it the means of communicating 
 the knowledge of Christianity throughout the werld. 
 Those, who speak it, may, and, if wise, will, aid 
 each other in the great work of spreading the Religion 
 of the Gospel over the globe; and through this medi- 
 um of communication will be enabled, with a facility 
 otherwise unattainable, to spread salvation through all 
 "the habitations of cruelty." Men, willing to embark 
 in such a design^ and possessing advantageous means 
 for accomplishing it, should never be hindered in their 
 exertions: nor can any man be justified, who volun- 
 tarily throws obstructions in their way; or wantonly 
 attempts to alienate them from each other. 
 
 It is high time, Sir, that a nobler spirit should be 
 found in enlightened nations, as well as in enlightened 
 individuals. Rivalry, contempt, and bitterness, have 
 reigned long enough. These dispositions have never 
 reformed either individuals or nations. Sometimes 
 they may have checked insolence and abuse; but they 
 never made a friend, nor conciliated an enemy. Can- 
 dour and generosity achieve triumphs incomparably 
 more numerous, and more honourable; and invest the 
 temples of the victor with wreaths which cannot fade. 
 Permit me to hope that the intelligent men of your 
 nation will, in greater numbers, hereafter believe, that 
 these are triumphs more deserving of their ambition; 
 and laurels, which they may wear with superiour and 
 more enduring glory. 
 
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