Full text of "Domestic portraiture; or, The successful application of religious principle in the education of a family, exemplified in the memoirs of three of the deceased children of the Rev. Legh Richmond"

See other formats

Google

This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project

to make the world's books discoverable online.

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject

to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books

are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover.

Marks, notations and other maiginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the

publisher to a library and finally to you.

Usage guidelines

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing tliis resource, we liave taken steps to
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.
We also ask that you:

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for
personal, non-commercial purposes.

+ Refrain fivm automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Maintain attributionTht GoogXt "watermark" you see on each file is essential for in forming people about this project and helping them find
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it.

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liabili^ can be quite severe.

About Google Book Search

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web

at |http: //books .google .com/I

^^^^l.l^.l^

Darvart) CoUcdc Xibrar^

FROM

DOMESTIC PORTRAITURR

Thou shall leach them dihgeotly unto thy cbildrcn, tnil shall
Jk of Ihein when thou aitleBt m thj houar, and nben thou
walkest by the way, and when thou liest dotvn, and when thou
jiest up.^Daot. vi. 7.

Hsblesseth Ihehabilationof the Just. — Prov. iii. S3.

This we ought lo be conalantly intent upon aa the businOBB of
our livea — our dmiy work — (o get our eprrila so attemperei] and
lilted to heaven, that if we be asked what design we drive at,
what we »re doing, wo may be able lo make a true aaswer,
We are drnsing mrailvti/or tttrmly.—BaVE.

■i

•*

DOMESTIC PORTRAITURE;

OR,
THE SUCCESSFUL APPUCATION OF

RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLE

W TBS

EDUCATION OF A FAMILY,

EXEMFUFIBD IN IBS WBUOOB OF

THBiE OF THE DECEASED CHILDREN

or TBB

{

REV. LEGH RICHMOND,

NEW- YORK:

PUBUSHED BY JONATHAN LEAVTIT, 182 BROADWAY.

BOSTON:
OaOCEER ^ BREWSTER, 47 WASHINGTON-STREET. .

1833.

:- r -

^?7''7.'+-

NEW- YORK:

PBJJrTED BY R. * a a. WOOD, 261 PEABL^niBCT.

TO MRS. RICHMOND.

AXiLow me to present to you the following little
woiky in which I have endeavoured to draw out
your late husband's plan of education, and to illus-
trate its success in the conversion of three of hia
children. The materials placed in my hands
appeared to me too valuable to fa^. buried in
oblivion; and I am persuaded I shall receive the
thanks of every Christian parent for having brought
before them such an examplar to direct and en-
courage them in their own labours. My excellent
friend has long since been known as a minister of
the gospel and the advocate of our religious socie- '
ties, and '*his praise is in all the churches." But
in the following pages it will be seen that his pri-
vate character, as the father of a family, shone
with no less bright a lustre, and is worthy to be
held in still higher estimation.

My heart's desire and prayer to God for you
and for every member of your family is, that you
may continue to follow Christ after the example

of your instructor and guide, and under the inflitr-
ence of the same spirit, may bear an honourublQ
testimony to the nature and worth of vital religion,
I am, be assured, with the highest esteem and
affection.

Your faithful servant,

Thb Avthob.

TO THE READER.

If any apology be deemed needful in presenting
•to the public another vddme connected with Mr.
Richmond's name and memory, we might refer to
the lively interest with which the productions of
his pen have ever Been received, and the frequent
demand made for more of his correspondence. It
must be remembered that the letters noW pub-
lished were not intended to be read by any one
beyond the circle of his own family, and they are
not introduced on the present occasion as speci-
mens of extraordinary talent and composition, but
with a view to exhibit the unwearied efforts of a
Christian father in the education of his Children,
and to encourage those who are engaged in the
same pursuit to hope to the end, while they dili-
gently persevere in the use of means, since they
may here contemplate another proof that God is
faithful to his promise — " Train up a child in the
way he should go, and when he is old be will
not depart from it."

• *

I k

"«%

TO THE READER.

It has not been the design df the Editor to
censure others, who may adopt a mode of edu-
cation somewhat different, or to claim for his
friend or himself an exclusive right to dictate to
the Church of God Mr. R. had, in some res-
pects, his peculiarities, and men must judge for
themselves as to their imitation of ^them ; but
there can be no mistake in earnestly recom-
mending to their« regard his leal and love — ^his
devout and heavenly spirit — his consistent and
firm preference of eternal to temporal advan-
tages, and the evident blessing of God, which
crowned wi£h success his method of instructing
his family. May the same divine blessing accom-
pany the present humble attempt to promote the
glory of Grod and the spiritual good of men.

#*^*

AT-'. ;-^

« «•

!■

CONTENTS.

CflATTSR U

IbotnaiiDi on. EducatioB— -Publto Morals and Private
Education. page 1

CHAITBR II.

Mc Richmond's Plan of Edoeation — ^Amnflements
for leisure hours — ^the Ealeidescope— -the Solar
System. page 13

cHAPTxa in*

The usual amusements of young people excluded*-
Keeping of birth days — ^Letters on. these occa-
Bions — Choice of companians — Home corres-
pondence— -Discipline — Letters to his children.

page 29

CHAPTER iv.

Residence at the University — Letter to a young man
matriculating at Cambridge—- Subjects omitted
in Mr. Richmond's plan. page 74

CHAPTER T.

Life of Nugent Richmond — Sponsorship— Letter to
i^ponsors — Remarks on the ministry— Nugent
aent to sea — Occurrences in India — Letters to
his parents — His expected return — His death.

page 99

DOMESTIC PORTRAITURK

REMARKS ON EDUCATION.

spective theories. The opinions of some are so
extravagant and opposed to all sound practical
wisdom, as scarcely to deserve an allusion. Who
could have supposed that a grave and intelligent
author would recommend a parent to leave his child
without instruction until nearly the age of man-
hood, under the pretence of not embarrassing free-
dom of thought ? If such a strange conceit could
be acted upon, it would soon reduce an enlightened
people to the condition of barbarians. But the ex-
periment is impracticable, for " the process in the
formation of character, though rude and ruinous by
neglect, will go on." From the cradle to the grave,
a succession of hourly events and influences of a
thousand kinds will gradually and ultimately esta-
blish habits, and give a capacity for happiness or
misery on an entrance into the eternal world ac-
cording to their result. A bias of some kind or
other will be received, and the only alternative for
our choice is, whether that predisposition which
arises from the inculcation of good principles, and
a reliance on authority for a time, is not preferable
to the impulse of corrupt inclination and the influ-
ence of more corrupt communication.

There have been other writers who seem disposed
to consider man as the mere creature of circum-
stances, and education as forming " the only
ground of difference between the judge on the
bench and the prisoner at the bar." These attach
too great an importance to human effort and the
force of habit, when they compare a rational agent
to the plant of the field, and expect that he will of
necessity take his form and shape from the hand of
the cultivator. If they do not deny in plain terms
the need of divine interposition, they make no
appeal to it, and seem to regard it as superfluous to
the piuposes and ends of education. But whatever
value we set on moral culture, its failure, in many

. ^■.

REMARKS ON EDUCATION. 6

instances, — a failure so great that corrupt nature
seems as it were exasperated to evil by the very
means employed for its correction^ — affords a
mournful proof, that " it is a poor centre ofaman^s
actions^ himself.^'^ Another equally affecting fact *
leads us to look higher than mere human agency ;
for have not many useful and virtuous characters
sometimes appeared like lights in the midst of dark-
ness, emerging from influences the least calculated
to warrant such an exception. It never must be
concealed or forgotten by a teacher, that "God
worketh both to will and to do of his good plea-
sure." He gives to the mind its first impulse, and
directs every step in its progress wherever the cul-
ture of man is successful. Independence is no
attribute of a creature ; and to challenge success as
the necessary result of our own efforts is a pre-
sumption no less opposed to reason than denounced
by revelation. " Not by might nor by power, but
by my spirit, saith the Lord."

There is a third error which has its advocates.
While some attribute too much to human culture,
others expect too little from it. There is a pride
which inspires an undue confidence in the use of
means, and there is an indolent reliance on divine
aid which vainly looks for an end without them, and
disposes men to neglect or wholly disregard them.
This perversion of a truth generates a reckless
feeling, and has done great mischief in religious
families. It is perhaps a chief cause of the melan-
choly spectacle not unfrequently exhibited in the
ruin of many children whose parents have professed
to respect and value christian principles. They
* seem to overlook both the precept and the promise
of the word of God' — " Train up a child in the
way in which he should go, and when he is old be
will not depart from it." ^ * *

3ut xlismissing whatever is chipieripal or tms-

4 rCBLip MOBAL8.

taken in tb^se theories, (for it is not to my purpose
to <;arry the discussion to a greater length,) 1 would
xyhaerve, XhBt to train and prepare the soul for it f
eternal destiny is the proper business and end of
* education. It must be admitted that there are sub-
ordinate ends which may be desired, and means of
the same character which may be employed for
their attainment : that a competent provision; ac-
quirements which will render us respectable in
life; all that is connected with the security and
promotion of present happiness, are lawful objects
of pursuit, and it is folly to neglect or despise them.
In many cases it would be a dereliction of duty ;
for we must not consider ourselves as insulated
beings, and " go out of the world," but continue in
it as " the salt of the earth," to dispense a purifying
influence. I am not the advocate of superstition
or eccentricity ; but I contend that the chief end
of education is to train for eternity. There may
be an awful consistency in the sentiments of those
whose hopes and prospects are bounded by time,
when they say. We and our children will eat and
drink, for to-morrow we die. But, independently
of revelation, and assuming only the belief of a
future state, — a state to be determined by our con-
duct in the present world, it follows as a necessary
consequence, that whatever we teach or do, ought
to have a bearing on another condition of being,
and be made subservient to its interests. Here I
stand on the vantage ground, and fear not to make
my appeal to every thinking man ; not only whether
the welfare of a future life can be reasonably set
aside, and children taught to despise and disregard
it, but whether it be consistent with the expectation
of another world to give it less than the chief and
foremost place in our thoughts and actions. It
cannot be regarded as subordinate or secondary
without exciting, a just suspicion that we do not

>FlHUJC.JIOEALS. 5

«dinit its existence. Such an appeal may be ^ade
with still greater force to an avowed tli«ciple of the
Christian faith. The whole, bearing of revelation
goes to this point, >/Seek first the kingdom of
God." Let it be observed that the question is not ^
here one of mere opinion. Few would venture
to deny the principle, for this would be to deny
the authority of the principle ; but we must look
to opinion as realized in practice, and insist onr the
propriety and necessity of interweaving religions
principle a,s a golden thread in the whole texture of
education ; deriving from it the motives, the means,
and the end ; and so steadily keeping in view the
final result, as to make a cheerful sacrifice of every
thing which would be likely to impair or interfere
with it.

I may be censured for rashly libelling the com-
munity in which we live, yet it must be apparent
to an unprejudiced mind, that for the most part we
are a nation of christians by profession^ and of
heathens in opinion and practice, Christianity may
have improved the moral sense, or at least driven
into the shade the grosser abominations of ancient
times, but it is a palpable fact, that the Bible is not
our standard ; nor a provision for the world to come,
our object, and end. Are not our motives derived
from reputation, interest, or gratification ; and were
not these the fulcrum employed by the gentile
world to move the youthful mind to exertion?
What are the virtues Avhich are prized and com-
mended ? We hear of a becoming pride — a con-
scious dignity — a noble ambition — a deserved scorn
and contempt — a just revenge — dispositions and
impulses of corrupt nature which are totally con-
demned by the word of God. In what light are
many acknowledged vices regarded by us ? The
Christian and the heathen moralist equally repro-
bate murder, impurity, and fraud; and legislators of

A*..'.

i-eyery age have cafltM^.TJavra to deter from thsfe

' ' tommiesion; but do We not in a multitude of id-

^ 'Stances endeavour t<k ^ida the enormity of these

crimes, when we csiinot Jilt^r Iheir character, an^

talk of a proper dcfance of honour, an affair of ga)-

Vl' laotry, and a forluDKte stroke of policy ?

**-:.- "Alt the« things the Gentiles did," and we,

' though pf'>'€ssing to know God, by ourimilation of

'' '. tbejractioiis, dishonour him. Even wijcn a stricter

'. .■ \ VfM of morals is approved, the leading feature of

hejfttfieft ages is slill retained, and a boy is taught

*" ■ . by tba example of his teacher, and by the conduct

of all around him* to regard religion as an affair of

secondary importance, — at best to be viewed with

awe at a distance — not to be brought into contact

with all its aims and ends ; as a something he must

submit to of necessity, rather than choose as a

source of his purest enjoyment. The peculiarities

of the gospel, in principle, disposition, and conduct,

are ao far from being applauded or enforced, that

the very reference to them on any occasion, would

expose him to suspicion, scorn, and reproach.

This is no idle declamation, but a simple state-
ment of facts ; and it is worth while to enquire the
. cause of so lamentable a departure from the charac-.

' ter of true Christianity.

We will therefore examine the course of educa-
tion pursued in this country, a» it is conducted in
public schools or by private tuition, and which if
carried on, is usually completed at one of the uni-
versities.

A public school presents some advantages. These
consist chiefly, perhaps, in the superior ability and
attainments of the masters, who are generally
selected from the ablest scholars of the age. The
pleas often urged, of the value of connections, and
the knowledge of the world, {which to boys can
' Bflither be necessary nor useful,) seems to carry

•*»■ 1

PUBLIC; aiQRAiife .;:* , ' 7

* . ■ '■ .*"'*' -^ ' "

^le weight ; ud ifallowed to possess mj^ 'm mwe ^
than counterbalanced by tie evjils arising .<Mit of .'
numbers, bad companions, and the neglect ^fjfte .
holy scriptures ; whioh lay a foundation for Mtfiitii
and conduct in life beyond measure' iojcirioos.
Many private schools abound with th^ saipe evils, ,
and offer fewer advantages than the larger estab«
lishments. In both cases, it has been jugtlyobterved, •
instruction may be secured in the school-room, 'but
education is carried on in the play-ground, oiin tlie
dormitory. There is seldom at such seasons iftiy
superintendence. Neither the eye nor the ear di
the master is with his pupils, and they are, for the
most part, left without control or restraint, to
follow the devices of their own minds. A few
elder boys prescribe the standard of opinion and
conduct, and whatever may be erroneous or cor-
rupt in the leaders, finds a ready acquiescence from
those below them. Painful are the details of a
Tyro, who either boasts or laments the fruits of
these evil communications.

The neglect of religion in public schools has
often been asserted, and the charge repelled with
indignation. Certain it is, however, that the greater
number of pupils leave these establishments and
enter into life, with an ignorance and indifference
towards religion, or with an avowed contempt for
it. They have no idea of viewing it as the end of
their being, — the rule of their conduct, and to be
carried by them as a governing principle into every
event and transaction of life. It has evidently not
been a prominent feature in their past studies. A
form of prayer, a chapter in the Greek testament
on the Sunday, or an exercise for the memory from •
some elementary author, (and such I believe to be
the amount of religious instruction,) are poor sub-
stitutes for a constant reference to the commands
and promises, the motives and models of the Bible,

8 PUBLIC Airo PRIVATE EDUCATION.

* — lor a diligent ^cultivation of right habits and
opinions. Can it be said with kny trifth that the
word of God is read daily, of pains taken in its
application^to the heart and conscience ? Afthough
a decent respect may be inculcated for revelation,
IB a boy instructed by his teacher to regard the
world as a bauble, and the service of God as his
glory^ Are sinful tempers watched over and
reproved? Are heavenly dispositions cultivated
and encouraged, with a close and intimate inspec-
tion of morals and the employment of leisure hours ?
They can best answer these questions who have
been the victims of vices contracted in our public
schools ; or who, when awakened to real principle
and piety in after years, have endured throughout
life a kind of martyrdom in conflicting Avith the
sinful habits of their youthful career.

The chief studies in our public seminaries are
the classics. Science, till of late years, formed no
part of them, nor has it even now more than a
small share of the seven or eight years devoted to
acquire an imperfect acquaintance with the authors
of Greece and Rome.

The objections made to the use of heathen
authors in Christian education are not always valid.
Classical knowledge forms a good foundation for
theological attainment, while it is considered as the
handmaid of religion, and is made subservient to
Its purposes. An illiterate ministry is never a safe
one, nor can a sound and accurate interpretation of
the word of truth be expected without a knowledge
of the original languages, and without that disposi-
tion to sober and patient investigation, which the
habits and discipline of the mind under proper
culture, seldom fail to inspire.

These objections apply rather to the manner of
teaching the classsics, — to their being viewed as an
end| not a means, and to the measure of time and

-•*-

• ^

PUBLIC AND PRIVATE UlOOATIOIT. 9

attention bestowed on them, to the exclusion of
more important subjects which would counteract
the evils incident to them.

While discussing the merits of school education,
1 cannot refrain from adverting to a modern system,
which discards the aid of religion in the hours of
instruction. I view this novel experiment with ex-
treme alarm. The reduction of expense, and a
plausible pretence to liberality of sentiment, has
prevailed on men of real piety to give their sanction
to it, and they have been seduced, in their simpli-
city, to approve a plan more worthy, of the enemies
of religion than of its friends. The classical tutor
must take the Bible in his hand with every book of
instruction, or the mind of his pupil will necessarily
be exposed to the daily influence of many things
which are false in principle and vicious in practice.
He will insensibly be led to prefer knowledge to its
right use and application, and to estimate talent
above piety. He will despise as unworthy of the
manly age, the principles confined to the nursery
and the family, and which are never brought befojQ
him by those whom he is taught to regard with
superior veneration and respect. We m^j[ boast
of the march of intellect, and treat with supercilious
contempt the example and usages of former ages,
but the diffusion of unsanctified knowledge will
prove a great evil to the community. The feeblest
recognition of a Deity, and the admission only of
the forms of religion — nay, even superstition itself
is preferable to the entire exclusion of all reference
to a divine power.

"No institution," said my excellent friend, "can
or ought to stand, in which Christ is not the foun-
dation ; and I: wholly disapprove of all schemes
which deliberately shut God out of their direction."

To schools;, Und particularly to the manner in
which they are conducted, Mr. Richmond felt the

10 PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCA:TION.

strongest repugnance. The sentiments which I
have laid before the reader are in fact the substance
of conversations with him on these subjects. He
never spoke without emotion when he recollected
the vices which his eldest son had contracted by a
public education, and the sad influence of bad
connections formed under those circumstances, and
which, counteracting the good effects of early in-
struction at home, caused the ruin, as he used to
say, " of his poor wanderer." He resolved in con-
sequence to adopt the plan of home education, with
the assistance of a private tutor.

Private teaching has certainly some disadvan-
tages, but they are few in comparison of the bene-
fits secured. I grant that there is a danger of irre-
gularity in the hours of study, arising from visitors
and invitations — the severity of needful discipline
may be softened into a mischievous relaxation by
affection ill-directed and unduly interfering with the
teacher — and the stimulus of competition, the desire
of distinction and the love of praise, (very ques-
ti^able motives, however,) are lost. But these and
every other defect of a private education may be
reraedig di whilie advantages of the utmost import,
ajice ,3hr the formation of character are secured
Regular habits may be established — interruptions
of every kind prevented by a firm resistance of
them — motives in unison with the Scriptures will be
found more than adequate to every occasion — the
devotional exercises of the closet may be watched
— hourly opportunities will be afforded for breaking
off the shoots of evil as they spring up, an example
of principle embodied in action may be presented
to youthful observation, and affections of the best
kind be cultivated between the members of the
family — much useful general knowledge may be
imparted, and a fair share of the learning of public
schools be acquired. Numbers can only be

PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 11

restrained by force or fear, or excited by pride and
interest. Choice, affection, principle can seldom
be employed. The discipline of a great school
must be that of a man of war, and it is conducted
in either case under much the same necessity. Two
or three boys may be watched every hour— evil
checked as it arises — every occurrence improved —
religion infused into every pursuit and instruction,
without any necessity for recurring to stimuli which
befit only the lowest condition of mortal existence,
and are never found, in their application, to pro-
duce any other effect than to depress or exasperate
generous natures.

There is an error which universally obtains in
every plan of education, public or private, *Jlnd
which is perhaps a principle cause of the distaste
of our young persons for grave and solid studies.
They are never taught to think. Materials in
abundance are set before them, but they know
nothing of the use and end designed by working
them ; they are ignorant of the rationale of gram-
mar, or the application of science. The memory
is burdened as a drudge, whilst the understanding
remains torpid and unexercised ; and tlyft the
interest which real knowledge inspires is IwTfn the
mere acquisition of words. A boy can give ar rule
but not a reason. Pestalozzi has attempted, with
some success, to improve former methods of
imparting knowledge, but even his system falls short
of rational instruction^ where the understanding
and the heart should keep pace with the progress of
the memory. The practice of enforcing by autho-
rity, instead of leading the mind to investigate,
explain, and digest in the exercise of its own ener-
gies, disposes a youth to affirm rather than prove,
and resting contented with a crude and superficial
acquaintance with all subjects, to shrink from the
labour of acquiring solid and accurate information.

12 PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION.

It would be a very salutary practice to withhold
from young persons the use and enjoyment of every
thing, however simple, whether an effect of art or
nature, till they had prepared themselves to explain
its history, origin, place, and means of production%
Thus no moment would run to waste, and table
talk, which now consists of little more than barren
details, would become a vehicle of much interest-
ins and useful communication.

If science ought not to precede language, they
should walk together as friends from the commence-
ment, and be associated throughotit the progress of
education.

But leaving the reader to form his own opinion
on the colpparative merits of public and private
education, I shall lay before him, in the next chap-
ter, the method resorted to by Mr. Richmond in
his family arrangements.

♦•

PLAN OF BDUCATIOK. 13

CHAPTER II.

• And this oar life, exempt from public hannt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

Sfiakspeart,

One great reason why so few people in the world are truly
religious, and why among the truly religious so many are not
happy in their religion, is this, that early religious habits are too
commonly associated, not with cheerfulness, but with constraint
and gloom. — Jebb»

Mr. Richmond's first object was to make home
, the happiest place to his children ; to render them
independent of foreign alliances in their pursuits
and friendships; and so to interest them in domestic
enjoyments, as to preclude the feeling too common
in young people, of restlessness and longing to leave
' their own fire-sides, and wander abroad in search
of pleasure and employment. In this attempt to
satisfy his family and engage their compliance with
his wishes, be so completely succeeded, that every
member of it left home with regret, even on an
occasional visit, and returned to Turvey with fond
anticipation,— as to the place of their treasures.

To his daughter F — he writes —

" We are going on quietiy at home.

Little K — , by a sudden determination, is gone into
Norfolk. My love and respect for your dear, most
dear mother, has prevailed to gain my consent;
otherwise I much prefer a mother^s and elder
sister^s roof, for female education, to any school.
But! leave this affair in God^s hands, and hope be
will overrule it for the best I have long thought

14 AMUSEMENTS ^OR

that though a good school is better than a bad home,
a good home is the best of schools. Children are
for the most part educated in temper and habits of
all kinds, not by governesses, but by companions,
and here all is contingency. But so much of my
own happiness consists in making your dear mamma
happy, that I waive my objection to a temporary
alienation from the parental roof, and pray Go4 it
may not injure K — 's spiritual welfare. Some may
think I am too fond of seeing my children around
me ; if it be a weakness I must plead guilty to it :
from their infancy 1 have looked forward, as far as
providential circumstances would permit, to find
comfort, support, and companionship in my children.
My middle, and if spared, my old age, may much
require it ; and if my life be short, can any wonder
that i should like to see and know much of them
while I remain in this world. It has ever been my
hearts desire and prayer to give them a useful,
happy, exemplary home ; were I to fail here, life
would indeed become a blank to me. I would
strive " to roll the troublous trial on God," but I
should deeply mourn in secret. Sons must in due
season go forth into a wanton and wicked wpijd to
seek their bread ; but daughters, while unn^Bied,
are better calculated to become comforteii^nd
companions to their parents, as they go diVt^'^^^

the vale of years "^ -.

Your affectionate father,

JL. Iv. ^

A happy home greatly depends on the recreatioi^^
and amusements which are provided for young
people. It is no small difficulty to give a useful
direction to their play-hours : little more has been
contemplated in the gambols of youth than the
health and activity of their bodies, and the refresh-
ment of their spirits ; it is well when these objects

LEISURE HOURS. 15

can be obtained without the indulgence of sinful
tempers ; but youthful sports have often proved the
nursery of pride, ambition, and contention. In
public schools these evils have been encouraged, or
at least deemed unavoidable. The seed of revenge
in manhood has been planted in boyish violence,
and the unheeded acts of oppression by the elder
boys towards their juniors, have trained them to
tyranny in riper years. Private education affords
greater facilities for checking these evils, but the
want of the stimulus supplied by numbers is apt
to render the pastime uninteresting and home dis-
tasteful.

Mr. R. was alive to these inconveniences, and
endeavoured by a succession and variety of recre-
ations to employ the leisure hours to advantage.
He had recourse to what was beautiful in nature
or ingenious in art or science ; and when abroad
he collected materials to gratify curiosity. He fitted
up his museum, his agctarium, and his library, with
specimens of mineralogy, instruments for exper-
imental philosophy, and interesting curiosities from
every part of the world : he had his magic lantern
to exhibit phantasmagoria, and teach natural his-
tory ; to display picturesque beauty, and scenes and
objects far-famed in different countries : his various
microscopes for examining the minutse of plants
and^animals ; his telescope for tracing planetary
revolutions and appearances; his air-pump and
other machines for illustrating and explaining the
principles of pneumatics and electricity; authors of
every country who treated on the improvements
connected with n^odern science ; whatever, in short,
could store the mind with ideas, or interest ^^
improve the heart. When he travelled he kej
a correspondence with his family, and narrati
them the persons, places, and adventures 6j
prggrcis. Pn bia return he enlivened many \

ahusehents fob

v^'.",' teiture hour by larger details of all that he had

!*^' * ■ jobserved to amuse and improve.

'' 'it was a sight truly gratifying to witness the

affectionate parent in the professor^s chair, with a

mind richly stored and a countenance beaming with

kindness, fixing the attention of hisyouthful auditors

t on subjects abstruse in their character, but rendered

interesting and intelligible to the happy group which

surrounded him.

Music was another source of domestic amuse-
ment in which Mr. R. excelled, being both a good
composer and no mean performer. Many of his
children played on some instrument, and occasion-
ally joined their father in a 'concert of sweet
sounds.' He wished to exclude what was frivolous
or trifling in this noble art, and delighted in the
grave full-toned harmony, as best calculated to in-
spire corresponding emotions.

He encouraged the use of tho pencil, and was
Terjr anxious that his daughters should cultivate
their taste for drawing.

" As I have journeyed along," he writes to one
of his children, " I have often, wished 1 had the
pencil of a ready draughtsman, that 1 might bring
home a bundle of sketches of landscapes, to revive
recollections and render natural scenery permanent
to the imagination. When I find that this cannot
be, I next wish that one or more of my dear chil-
dren might acquire a talent of this kind, and be a
sort of right hand to fulfil my wishos in that way.
,Perhapa some day you will be that right hand to
me. Loving landscape scenery as I do, my grand
object is to see God in it; to trace him in every
part of his works ; to acknowledge his goodness in
them, and to collect argumenis from them to endear
the character of Christ, ^by whom,' the scripture
isys, ' all things were made^ and without whom was
not any thing made th»t was made.' To this eod I

<%"

*■»•

LEISUAE HOUBS. 17

wisK drawing to be cultivated. I mourn over pride
and vanity, and if accomplishments are onlj ac-
quired to gratify these unholy afiections, I should
wish them banished. Nay, mere innocent pleasure
is not a sufficient motive; the glory of God must be
the end and aim of every attainment, or else it is a
wastt of lime, and an abuse of talent. Pencils, ;
paint, India ink, and India rubber, may be devoted
to the honour of Him who bestows the power of
combining their respective properties, so as to pro-
duce the similitudes of his works. I am nolesa
anxious about the cultivation of musical talents;
tbere Jis, however, more danger of music being
abused than drawing: the inundation of frivolity,
' apd tJie sometimes unsuspected associations of a
caififil and worldly nature, which mingle with
musical compositions of a modern and fashionable
cast, often distress and hurt me. The fascinations
of the ball room^the corruptions of the theatre
and opera-houseTtoo often creep into the quiet
piano-forte corner of young people. Even instru-
mental music, with its appendages of waltzes,
daKces, and love-sick airs, has often a tendency to
familiarize the young mind with subjects injurious
to its (welfare. The sober dignity of genuine instru-
mental music, is nearly lost in the substitution of
modern trick and blandishment: but if instrumeritat
music be thus abused, how much tbore so vocal :
here the art and science of music opens its richest
stores of opportunity for glorifying God and edify-
ing man ; here all tlic charms, and all the contriv-
ances of this sublime faculty, present innumerable
means of spiritualizing the heart, gratifying the ear,
exalting the understanding, and improving the affec-
tions ; but here, alas I the world, the flesh, and the
devil have grasped the powers of the musical art in
too many instances, and sacrificed them all to Dagon
and Baal, to vice and folly, to lerity and wanton-
s'

■ «

18 AMUSEMENTS FOR

ness, to fascination and delusion. Love songsr^
drinking songs, vice-provoking songs, and many
other sorts of songs, resound from house to house
in public and private, and prove to demonstration
the idols which men and even women serve, and
consequently " whose they are." What a profana-
tion of a holy art ! what a degradation of a noble
science ! I am persuaded that music is designed to
prepare for heaven, to educate for the choral enjoy-
ment of Paradise, to form the mind to virtue and
devotion, and to charm away evil, and sanctify the
heart to God. A Christian musician is one who
has a harp in his affections, which he daily tunes to
the notes of the angelic host, and with which be
makes melody in his heart to the Lord. Does he
strike the chord with his hands ? it is to bid lute
and harp to awake to the glory of God." The hand,
the tongue, and the ear form a kind of triple chord

not to be broken. Bring music, my beloved F ^

to this test, and your vocal hours will not be spent
in vain. The instructions of your childhood will
supply you through life with a fountain of pleasures,
drawn from the true source of legitimate recreation.
Sing the songs of Zion, and amidst the vibrations of
the air may true prayer and praise ascend to heaven,
and enter into the ears of the Lord God of your
salvation ; and then will the harmonious combina-
tion be complete. Pray for grace to guide you in
all your duties, that you may comfort, assist, and.
strengthen your invaluable mother in all her cares
and labours, by your dutiful, diligent, and affec-
tionate regard to her precepts, example, and wishes.
May your brothers in particular learn from you,
and you from Christ, what Christian meekneps
activity, and sobriety mean. Watch, over them
vitfh asister^s heart and a sister ^s prayers, and tbey
will be heard and answered. Go to school again
and again. Whjltfaer ? To what school, papa 7 To

N« *■

LEISURE HOURS. 19

the school of Christ, where the Great Instructor
waits to teach and bless you. Go thither, my child,
and carry your sins and your cares, and your weak-
nesses and your errors, and your affections and
your hopes, and your fears and your resolutions,
and your friends, and your brothers, and your sis*
ters, and your mother, and

Your own true loving father,

Legh Richmond.^

It was a maxim with Mr. Richmond, that the
mind needed not idleness or frivolity to restore its
activities, or fit it for graver studies ; but might
always find a sufficient relaxation in variety : and
his success in associating some useful pursuit with
the recreations of his young people, proves the cor-
rectness of his judgment in this respect.

The principal chaaecteristic, however, of his
mode of education, was the piety infused into every
employment or pleasure. Whether in the field or
in the museum, — whether he examined what was
beautiful to the eye, or indulged in what was har-
monious to the ear, — whether he made an experi-
ment or related an event, — every thing was con-
nected in his own mind and in that of his children,
with him who giveth all things richly to enjoy ; —
every thing afforded him an illustration of some reli-
gious truthjOr was employed to inspire some devout
affection. The connexion of religion with science
was a favourite topic, on which he used to enlarge
with great satisfaction. His happy manner, in com-
bining instruction with amusement, appears from
the two following specimens. The first of these is a
meditation on the wonders of a kaleidescope, and
which he presented to his daughter F — , with a
view to engage her attention to this simple and ele-
gant instrument. '' See, my dear F— , what this

■%¥

20 THE KALEIDESCOPE.

new discovery, which has afforded us so much
amusement, may do to improve our heads and
hearts.

^ I took up my kaleidcscope, and as I viewed with
delight the extraordinary succession of beautiful
images which it presented to my sight, I was struck,

1. With th^ singular phenomenon of perfect or-
der being invariably, and constantly produced out
of perfeet disorder, — so that, as by magical influ-
ence, confusion and irregularity seemed to become
the prolific parents of symmetry and beauty.

2. It occurred to me, that the universality of its
adoption would imperceptibly lead to the cultiva-
tion of the principles of taste, elegance and beauty
through the whole of the present and following
generations ; and that from the philosopher and
artist down to the poorest child in the community.

3. I admired the effects produced by new and
varied combinations of colours as well as forms.
The analysis of this kind of arrangement is here at-
tended with unprecedented facility and advantage.
The artist, the philosopher, the admirer both of the
works of nature and of art may find a source of
amusement almost peculiar to the use of this instru-
ment.

4. I saw a vast accession to the sources of in-
vention in its application to the elegant arts and
manufactures, and the consequent growth of a
more polished and highly cultivated state of habits,
manners, and refinement in both. ^

5. 1 mused with delight on the powers and
effects of geometrical arrangement and combina-
tion, so easily exhibited to the eye, and so charac-
teristic of the optical principle on which the instru-
ment is constructed.

6. I was struck with the idea of infinite variety,
— more strikingly demonstrated to the eye than by

THE KALEIDK8C0PE. 21

any former experiment. Here the sublime mingles
with the beautiful*

7. 1 perceived a kind of visible music. The
combination of form and colour produced harmonjr,
their succession melody ; thus what an organ ' or
piano-forte is to the ear, the kaleidescopc is to the
eye. I was delighted with this analogy between
the senses, as exercised in this interesting experi^*
ment.

8. I thought that God was venr good to afford
and permit so innocent and gratifying a source of
recreation to all ranks of my fellow-countrymen,
arising partly from the exhibition of so much love-
liness to that sense of sight which he has formed,
and partly from the exercise of the mental faculties
of reason cmd taste in meditating upon the beautiful
vision.

I laid my kaleidescope down, and thought of the
adorable attributes of Him from whom all blessings,
earthly and heavenly, flow.

I took up my keleidescope again, and was led in
the contemplation of its use and beauties to think,

1. Here 1 seem to see, on the one hand, the
ruin and disorder of human nature, and on the other,
the marvellous influence of grace in producing out
of these materials, order, beauty and restoration.

2. My instrument 1 comparefd to a telescope
glass, which faith and hope* put into my hand;-l4
saw through one end of the tube, the world and
our life in it, a scene of confusion and tribulation,
strange revolutions and mysterious complexities. —
Through the other, I beheld promised delights,
heavenly realities, beauty for ashes, and the wilder-*
ness blooming like a rose. I took the hint, and saw
reasons for resignation, contentment, and patient
waiting for the ^ory that shall be revealed.

3. I observed, as I gently turned my instrument
round, how quickly the pleasure of sense vanished*

•r.

22 THE KALEIDlSat60FX<

The phantom which delightl^d me but a noment
before was gone — for evei gone— 4rrecoverlibly lost !
Let me not then, said 1/set my heart on that which
so quickly .4aketh wing and fleethaway. Such is
the world and its delights.

4, But again as 1 looked, new beauties con-
stantly succeeded those which had^passed away. —
Now 1 thought, how does the Lord multiply his
mercies in constant variety and succession. In the
succession of beautiful configurations in my glass, is
an emblem of the endless goodness of my God,
whose tender mercies are over all his works.

5. In this chaos of confusion, thus made to pro-
duce beauty and order, I seem to see a representa-
tion of the primitive work of the Great Creator,
wbo, when the earth was without form and void,
sent forth his Spirit, and therewith created an
universe in all its original perfection.

€• Wjien I look at my little fragments of glass
and stones,' and observe how, from such apparently
despicable materials, such beauty and symmetry
arise, 1 Isarn not to despise the day of small things,
and to count nothing unworthy of my notice. 1
learn how God has chosen the foolish things of this
world to confound the wise, and base things of thigr
world, and things which are despised hath God
chosen; yea, thifigs. which are not, to bring to
nought' things that are,*that no flesh should glory in
his presence.

I concluded by reflecting, how the works of crea-
tion, the principles of natural philosophy, the dis-
f^overies of science, and the ingenuities of art,
illustrate and demonstrate the attributes of the God
"of redemption. My kaleidescope shews me, in the
harmony of its colours, the union of his excellen-
cies ; in the symmetry of its forms, his wisdom ; in
the invariable efficacy of its principles, his faithful-
ness; in the endless diversity of its figures, his

THn^LAR STSTBM. 33

infinity i in th&ff^plicitjr bf^ essential character,
bis unity V in its fkculty of producing novelty, his
power ; in its ability to delist, his goodpess ; and in
its affording me this opportunity of so sef ing hinS in
4t, his love.

I laid down npiy kaleidescope, that f might praise
and pray to the Author of my mercies."

The next article was composed by Mr, R. to fix
the solar system in the memory, for which purpose
he turned it into verse, and as it may be i^ useful
technica memoria to other children, it is Jiere pre-
sented to them.

In this instance, also, it may be observed, how>
steadily he kept in view his ulterior design, of raiso
ing the mind from the visible heavens to the know-
ledge and love of Him whom the heaven of heavens
cannot contain, but whose eternal power ^nd god*
head, whose majesty, wisdom, and -goodness, sBine
forth in the things that are made.

He used frequently to repeat, " The undevodt
astronomer is mad." He would observe, •♦Astron-
omy fills the mind with the most elevated conce*p-
tions of the magnificence of the Deity, and sinks
us down and humbles us to the dust, with a sense
of our own utter insignificancie, silnsations mingled
with others of a sweet and tender charjicter in the
survey of his benevolence.

'•Creation was Adam^s library; God bid him
read the interesting volumes of his works, which
were designed to make known the Divipe character.
To gratify curiosity, only, in the study of the
creatures, is to lose sight of their end in reLati<».to
man. I would have my dear children see God in
every thing. It is not merely a transitory embtion
I wish to raise in their minds, but a habit of referring,
in all they see to their maker with delight and rever-

S4 THE SOLAR ST^TEM.

ence. I will never consent to shut God out of his
own universe, or divorce science and* religion,
which he has joined together to dwell with each
other in unity and love."*

THE SOLAR SYSTEM.

As we looked at the skies, my dear children, last night.
And their beaaties and wonders attracted our sight ;
Of explaining their nature you set me the task.
So ni try to affqrd the instruction you ask.

THB luir.

In the midst of our system the sun takes his place.
And brilliantly shines through the regions of space.
He illumines the planets and by his attraction
Preserves all their motions in regular action.
He turns round his axis in twenty-five days.
While his light ne*er decreases, his heat ne*er decays :
■ )lis diameter viewed with the nicest a^ention.
Proves near nine hundred thousand miles in dimension ;
Around this vast orb revolutions are seen.
Of the planets eleven, with their moons just eighteen.

MSRCVRT.

First Mercury moves mid the bright solar rays,
C/ompleting his orbit in eighty-eight days ;
* The breadth of his disc, at three thousand is given.
The distance of millions of miles, thirty-seven.

*In these remarks I perfectly concun What indeed is religion
but a knowledge of Ood, with an enjoyment of him in the affec-
tions of the heart I The Greeks use a term (tvh^it*) to de-
scribe it, which signifies a becoming reverence. The Latins em-
ploy another word (religio^ a re et ligo)^ still more descriptive of
its character, which means a reuniting of a part to its whole. —
Man has been torn, as it were, from his God by his apostacy, — a
creature separated from the Creator. The business of religion,
and of all religious education, is to bring man back to God, in
his thoughts, affections, aims, and pursuits ; so that spiritually, as
well as naturally, he may live and move, and have his being in
God. Science, when employed as the handmaid of religion, will
be found a most useful auxiliary ; and literature of every kind,
especially such as is connected with the works or ways of the
Deity, if pursued in the spirit of piety, has a tendency to improve
and sanctify the heart. With this view, Mr. Richmond encour-
aged his children to study (ft%en/(y, that tbey might love and
•erve God fervently*

• V

THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 12$

YSNUS.

Next Venus advances, with radiant smiles,

From the sua distant sixty-nine millions of mfles i

She revolves round her centre in months ahoUt eight.

And compared with our earth she in size is aigreat :

In beauty resplendent she shines from afar,

And gladdens the eye as a morn or eve staf. ^

THE BARTB.

Amidst this g^and range of celestial pavilions,
Next comeS) at a distance of OSiuillions,
The globe of the earth, with its faithful attendant.
Bothalike on the sun's gravitation dependent.
Earth revolves, as enlightened by SoFs mighty blaze,
In three hundred and sixty and five of our days ;
Round her axis impelled by omnipotent power,
She turns and returns by the twenty fourth hour.
Near eight thousand miles is the breadth of her span.
And thus she was formM for the dwelling of man :
As the sun rules by day, so the moon ruled by night.
Each affording in turn their magnificent light.

THE Mooir.

The moon's time in her path as the earth she moves round.

Just twenty-nine days and a half will be found ;

From the earth she is distant, although she seems near.

Twenty-four times ten thousand of miles it is clear.

By the light of the sun her fair face is adorned.

While she sometimes is gibbous and sometimes is hom'd.

When at full she's quite' round, when new she's not seen.

But whenever she shines, is of night^the gay queen.

Of high hills and deep vales she has plentiful store.

And her breadth of our miles is two thousand and more.

By his glass, the astronomer dearly discerns

In a month round her axis she statedly turns :

Thas the earth and her moon are impelled by a force.

Which preserves all their motions in annual course.

MAB8.

Next, revolving amidst this bright region of stars.
We behold in his orbit the ruddy-faced Mars,
He appears to move on without lunar assistance,
At a hundred and forty-four millions of distance,
While twenty- four hours, like our own, make his day,
Near two years will accomplish his annual way :
His diameter measures four thousand and two,
And hisradianoe is marked by its roseate hue.

*.*

^*.

26 THK SOLAR STSTBM.

THE ASTEROIDS.

Four planets come next of diminative size,
Too small, without aid, to be seen with our eyes:
Bat the telescope proves of what nature they are,
And discorers their motions as viewed from afar.
In order comes Vesta, then Juno, then Ceres,
Whose order to Pallas exceedingly near is ;
But these Asteroids no more shall absorb,
The attention now due unto Jupiter's orb.

JU-piTEB.

Enlightened by Sol with refulgence he smiles,
Though distant near five hundred millions of miles :
His splendor the Heavens is ever adorning
As the jewel of eve, as the herald of morning.
His diameter ninety-one thousand is found.
He in less than ten hours his own axis turns round:
His magnificent globe as it plainly appears.
Revolves round the Sun in near twelve of our years ;
Cloudy belts cross his surface in parallel lines,
Tet through them the planet with brilliancy shines.
His constant companions, to cheer the dark night.
Four Satellites lend him their regular light :
That they truly revolve, by our glasses is seen.
In their periods or months from two days to sixteen.

SATURlir.

Now far beyond Jupiter on we advance
And find a whole system of worlds at a glance.
Seven Moons around Saturn transcendantly shine,
Preserved in their orbit by impulse divine.
Nine hundred of millions from Sol he's removed.
So their nightly assistance is constantly proved.
When measured, the breadth of this planet is great,
In thousands of miles it is seventy-eight :
Twenty-nine and a half of our years must be run
Ere Saturn his journey perfi>rm8 round the Sun ;
In fourteen to twelve hours the Astronomers say.
This planet's rotation completes his own day :
But that which most singular makes him appear
Is two luminous rings which encompass his sphere ;
It would seem that this splendour of radiance bound him,
As detached from his orb they revolve both around him.
Heaven does not present a more beautiful sight
Than this planet— his rings and his moon seen at night.

. .1 *■ '

•

»«

THB SOLAR STSTBM. 27

TTRANUS — ^HERSOHEXilf—OBOBOIUM-flDnS.

But, as further we penetrate heavenly regions.

When the stars are abounding in multiplied legions,

We meet with a planet of magnitude vast.

Which of those yet discovered is reckoned the last.

Call it Uranus, Herschell, or Georg^um-sidus,

A sight of his disc without help is denied lis.

But when brought by the aid of the telescope near

His surface is manifest, beauteous, and clear.

Eighteen hundred millions removed from the Sun,

It is eigfaty*four years ere his orbit is run.

Thirty* four thousand miles in his breadth 'tis maintained.

Of his motions diurnal no knowledge is gained.

Six bright beaming moons shed their rays o*er his night.

Like himself from the Sun, all deriving their light.

TKX COMETS.

But still we pursue Astronomical song,

As not planets alone to our system belong. '^

Many hundreds of Comets, in orbits most strange,

By solar attraction obediently range,

With their fringes of hair, their long fiery tails.

Whenever they're seen admiration prevails:

But their lengthened elliptical paths in the sky

The powers of Astronomy seem to defy.

So short is their stay, they escape observation

Ob which we can g^und a correct calculation.

They've so come and so gone, so appeared and so vanished,

That successful prediction they've hitherto banished.

coiroLVsiojr.

To the system named Solar, I call your attention.

Of the stars whiph are fixed I shall now waive the meHitioQ.

But while their instruction I have sought to impart,

I have wished to inspire the best thoughts in your heart.

With deep veneration, O lift up your eyes

And contemplate these works of the God of the skies:

He formed them, he governs, he guides every motion.

And by them he summons each soul to devotion.

The firmament sheweth the work of his hand.

Such wisdom and power adoration command.

Each planet revolves, and each comet appears.

To exalt the great God of our days and our years.

Not a star but its lustre shall loudly proclaim

The magnificent praise of his excellent name.

Join the chorus above, and let glory be given

To him that directs both on earth and in heaven.

98 THE SOLAR STSTEX.

Many advantages were obtained by the intro-
duction of popular science into my friend's family
circle as an amusement ; a dislike of low and vul-
gar pursuits was inspired, an occupation found for
every moment, and materials procured for useful
conversation in their private intercourse : full em-
ployment and improving pursuits are favorable to
morality and religion ; nor is it necessary to allow
children, even in their pastimes, to be more childish
than a childish age requires. The notion is injuri-
ous to them, that a waste of time is felicity, and its
profitable employment an ungrateful necessity. Nor
can eminence be expected in anything in which the
heart is not engaged. It should therefore be the
constant effort of a teacher to interest while he
instructs, and to bring the hour of recreation into
unison with that of the school room, making it sub-
servient to it. It was my friend's anxious desire and
sedulous endeavour to get the heart on the side of
truth, to infuse an innocent prepossession in its
favour, and make duty enjoyment. It was often
said by the members of his family, " We love reli-
gion, because we see papa so lovely and happy
under its influence !''

USUlk AMUSKM KNT8, &.C. S^

CHAPTER III.

* A Bian's nature rans sither to herbi or weeds, therefore let
bimieuonablj water the one and destroy the other. — Baean»

With so many resources of innocent and im-
proving amusement, Mr. R.^s young people felt no
resret at the interdict which their father placed oa
alfgames of chance, on fishing, field sports, dancing,
the theatre, oratorios, and other sources of grat-
ification, which he thought to be inconsistent with
the spirit of religiqn, connected with much evil, and
a preparation for it. I have heard him say, '^ Even
where there is no positive evil, I think it important
to draw a strong line of demarcation between the
chureh and the world. The mixed multitude set
the Israelites a lusting after the flesh-pots of E^pt ;
and evil communications never fail to corrupt good
manners. There may be no sin in dancing, but it
is a preparation for appearing hereafter where I
think there is scarcely any thing else. Cards are a
waste of time which may be much better employed,
and they are too nearly allied to the gaming-table;
which fills me with horror. To field sports I have
a still more decided objection : they are defended
on the ground of promoting health ; but whatever
benefit the body may receive, it is at the expense
of the soul. I know not on what principles a man
can justify the taking away life for his amusement :
God allows him to kill animals for food, or to de-
stroy them when they prove an annoyance to him ;
but I can find no authority in the Bible for derivii^
enjoyment in the infliction of a cruel death ;-7-il '»

... * f

:-;-^ ■ "'

USUAL' AHUSEHCyTS
» ■ t

right founded on might, — a mere act of tyrannff
and an abuse of power. The man who should whip
a beast to death or cut him up alive, like an Abys-
sinian savage, would be deemed a monster; yet
the same man may hunt to death, and halloo, and
exult with satisfaction, while his dogs are tearing
to pieces a defenceles animal, and yet be considered
a gentleman and a Christian. Then there are the
after-events of the day; — and surely to spend five or
six hours in the evening commending the bark
of a cur, or descanting on the movements of a fox
to elude his pursuers, is unworthy an intelligent
being, even if there were no worse accompani-
ments.^'

I asked him if he thought shooting equally objec-
tionable. He replied: — *' Shooting may not issue
in all the results of hunting ; but I should be mis-
erable all the while my boys were scampering over
the fields with a gun. ' Sad accidents are contin-
ually occurring from letting young people carry
fire- arms ; but my great objection to all these sports
is the same ; I cannot think it right to seek gratifi^^
cation in inflicting suffering and death. I know
that God has given us the creatures for our suste-
nance, and it is lawful to use them to this end ;
but wifh my views and principles, I find it hard to
conceive a right-minded man feeling pleasure while
he inflicts pain. He would rather be disposed to
say with an old writer, " I can never eat my dinner
when I remember that I am living by the death of
a creature which my sin has destroyed." As for
exercise, we might surely find other pursuits for this
purpose. There appears to me the same delusion
in the argument which has sometimes been em-

Eloyed to defend shooting, as in that which is urged
y card-players, — we must have a stake, however
small, or we shall lose all interest in the game. —
Surdy we might walk as far and as long as wo

mv '

OF TOVNG PEOPLE EXCLl^BEO. . . -Wv *'''^

t- » r ' A

■'■*>'• V'.

pleaied for exercise, without a gun. PunSU ei^. j!
plains the whole matter, when he says, '^ A nftiaiff '*
not running after the game^ but trying to run awik^
from himself.'^ The ^race-ground presents such m
scene of foKy and knavery that it does not deserve i*
a serious argument. The stage abounds with every
thing which is offensive to the mind of a Christian.
What think you of a celebrated tragedian, who
forbade heir daughter to connect herself with the
theatre, — surely this speaks volgmes. Did it never
Strike you that an actor {v^^»piliis) has given a name
to the worst of vices.

^^ Fishing is generally deemed a harmless amuse-*
ment, but I cannot allow it to be a fit recreation for
a Christian. What are w6 to think of impaling a
worm, and being highly delighted while the poor
creature suffers exquisite torture for our sport. If
we use an artificial bait, yet is time, the precious
hours of life, so valueless that we can afford to
throw away half or a whole day in this trilling ?^*

" What is your opinion of oratorios ?" " My
fondness,'' he replied, ^^for music may be supposed
to make me a partial judge in this case. I see no '
objection to a concert when the music is properly 4
selected, yet I am jealous of this sort of amusement,
and should think it necessary to be very cautious
in encouraging a taste for public exhibition of any
kind. We never attend oratorios in a church. I
consider it a desecration of the house of God to use
it for any purpose but that of religion ; it shocks me
to hear clappings and noisy expressions of pleasure
when a passage of scripture and the name of God
is made a vehicle for mere amusement. It is ab-
surd to talk of devotional feelings on such occasions^
As to all these things, I think that God has given
us immortal souls to prepare for heaven. People
may cry, What great harm in this or in that 7 They

V 9i| - , USUAI» AMUSEMENTS

Q»ay/Jim» a plausible pretext for ctoing what I
condciiQa ; for there is nothing, however absurd or
wicked, which will want an advocate or an argu-
ment to support it. I lay down this general rule for
all occupations, Whatever has a tendency to fit tny
children for heaven I approve, but I must keep
aloof from every thing which is likely to be a snare
or a temptation to them, and indispose their minds
to a serious and steady pursuit of their great ob-
ject

^'Did you ever bear of a bishop on the race-

f round or in a theatre ? Would he not disgrace
imself even in the eyes of the world by being
present at such places? Why so? Because he
wotdd be out of character. The universal suffrage
denounces these amusements as inconsistent with
a heavenly mind, and the sacred office of a spiritual
guide. Surely this is the strongest censure on the
amusements themselves ; it is in fact saying, the
more heavenly the man the more unsuitable are
such things to his character.

^' I have often thought that a Christian by profes-
sion, who allowed himself in the indulgence of such
things as have furnished the subject of our conver-
sation, must be at a loss how to describe the pomps
and the vanities of this wicked world, which he has
renounced at his baptism.^*

These remarks may excite a smile, as childish
scrupulosities, or a sneer, as mere fanaticism ; but
hard names are bad substitutes for solid arguments.
It will not be easy to satisfy a sober reflecting
mind, that Mr. Richmond's judgment was weak or
superstitious.

Before we leave the subject of amusement, I
jball advert to another kind of recreation, which
jlr. R. provided for his young people ; — the cel-

* ?^i/

OF TOUNO PEOPLE EXCLUDED.

3$.'

ebration of birth days. On his own birt&doy he
attended divine service, when he preached a sermon
to his congregation, and endeavoured to improve
the lapse of time by acts of prayer and praise. The .
summons was cheerfully obeyed, and the parish
bells rung merrily. Great numbers attended church
to worship God and congratulate their pastor on
the occasion. In the course of the day he always
wrote to his mother, while she was alive, and affec-
tionately reminded her and himself of their en-
deared connexion. On the day following, he in-»
vited a party of his parishioners to dine at the
rectory. This birth-day entertainment was looked
forward to by, them with great interest, and was
made an occasion of courteous hospitality. The
company was of a mixed character, and was re-
ceived by Mr. R. with a kindness and attention to
their innocent recreation, which never failed to
gratify his guests. The evening was spent in music,
and his family formed a little band of performers
in full concert. The birth-days of his children were
kept with no less reverence to religion, though in a
more private manner. He commended them to
God for his blessing and favour. He wrote each
of them a letter of congratulation, usually accom-
panied by a present of some useful kind. The day
was spent in innocent festivity, and the evening
was employed in the museum, where he gave a
lecture on experimental philosophy. These seasons
were anticipated by the children with much de-
light, and their recurrence contributed, in ai great
degree to promote the harmony of the family, by
a reciprocity of affectionate interest amongst its
members. •

I shall here transcribe a letter or two, as gpecl*
mens of Mr. Richmond's birth-day correspond
dence.

■>«

34 KBBPING OF BIRTH-DATd, WITH

TomyK .*

•* Let not my loved little K — suppose that her
father forgets her. Yaxham may seem a long dist-
ance from Turvey ; Glasgow is much greater^ but
in neither place can my heart forget my child. I
remember you a little babe in arms. I loved you
then. I remember you lying in your little cot, and
I swung you there, and loved you the while.

^' I recollect your first attempts to walk, and your
many consequent little downfalls. I raised you up
from your stumblings and your tumblings ; I dried
your tears, and loved you still more. 1 have not
forgotten your endeavours to talk, nor your droll
little prattiings ; nor your first calling me Papa, and
dearly I loved you for it : and although these things
have long since passed away, and time has added to
your years, my love for my K — is not diminished.
1 often see you in imagination, and draw fanciful

Eictures of your occupations in your new dwelling;
ut what is my love compared with that of your
heavenly Father. What is the strongest earthly
affection, when contrasted with that which said,
** Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid
them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven/^
Has my child's heart and earnestness, a real un-
feigned earnestness, to share in the love of such a
Father, and to come when so mercifully called to
such a Saviour? By nature '^ foolishness is bound
up in the heart of a child ;^' nevertheless by grace
a young child^s heart may become the temple of the
Boly Ghost, and the residence of God himself.
Think of little Jane, the Young Cottager. May you
resemble her in whatever she resembled Christ.
She was a dear little girl, and I wish there were
thousands more like her. Many have been made

** The birth-day was kept as usual though the child was absent :
Hot whether absent or present a letter of congratulation was written
on the occasion.

LETTERS ON THESE OCCASIONS. 35

sensible of their sinful state while reading that
story, and, through the blessing of God, have been
brought to love the same Redeemer, and lived and
died rejoicing in their Saviour. I hope, my child,
you pray not only with your lips, but with your
heart While you are actively and dutifully em-
ployed in acquiring useful knowledge, " be fervent
in spirit, serving the Lord/' in a little time you
will be in your teens, and the very sound of that
word should awaken you not to the usual folly and
vanity of this period of life, but to the responsibility
of growing years and increasing privileges ; to the
cultivation of holy learning and Christian habits ; to
the love oF J^sus and communion with his Spirit.
It is my prayer, let it be your^s. And now farewell,
my dear K — . May you realize every fond hope,
tempbral, spiritual, and eternal, of

Your affectionate father,

L. R."

The following letter was written the year after,
and on a similar occasion:

To MY K , ON HER BIRTH-DAY.

** Accept a birth-day blessing from your affection-
ate father, my dearest K — : — a father who loves
you with all his heart and soul. This day thirteen
years brought you into a world of sins, sorrows,
mercies, hopes, and fears : surely it is a day much
to be remembered ; not so much by feastings and
twelfth-cakes, as by prayers and supplications to the
God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that he
would grant you grace to put away the follies 'clf
childhood, and to enter upon what is commonly
called your ^ teens' with a clean heart and a right
spirit. May my dear child be a vessel of mercy,
filled with all the blessings of the spirit of God, and
fitted for a happy eternity. . May the love of Je-
sus warm your heart Wtil^ every affection which can

* •

•<•

36 KEEPING OF BIRTH-DATS, WITH

adorn the Christian name and character. May your
early attainments at this period of diligent childhood
prepare you to be the comfort and prop of your
parents in their advancing years, if life oe spared
to them, fie conscious in ail you do. Idleness and
inattention to instruction always prove that some-
thing is very wrong in the principle. Diligence in
the improvement of your mind is a tribute of obe-
dience both to God and your parents. I rejoice to
hear from your kind governess that you improve in
this respect. I trust, my dear child, we shall never
receive any intimation of your failure in so import-
ant a matter. If you love those at home, (and I
am persuaded you do love them , tenderly,) ever
strive to make them happy and easy on your ac-
count. I need not tell you that every one round
our fire-side unites with me in the congratulations
of this day. There is but one heart amongst us.

M and H mention your birth day in their

letters. Our Christian circle is reduced when three
daughters are absent, but love, memory, and
imagination often bring them all together, and half
fill the vacant chairs which they used to occupy.
Your brother Nugent has been mercifully preserved
from an awful shipwreck in India ; the vessel was
totally lost, but all the lives saved, and ^he has got
a station in another ship. — "They that go down to
the sea in ships, — that do business in great waters,
— these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders
in the deep." (Psalm ovii. 23—31.) And now
my K — , with a repetition of every wish, prayer,
and blessing, believe me

Your affectionate father,

" To C. ■" (when a very little girl.)

" Perhaps my dear little C , thought she was

too joung to receive a lett|5>;"but you see I have
not forgotten you» not Irr*^*either, for whom you

k* •

L1ETT£RS 01} THSSS OCCASIONS. 37

may tear off the other half of this sheet, and if he
cannot read it himself, some one will read it to
him. I wish very much to know how you are be-
having since 1 saw you; What character will
your pen and your needle give of you when I ask
them ? and what will your book say ? Your play*
things, perhaps, will whisper that you have been
very fond of them : well, a little fond of them you
may be, but you must not think only of thetn, Uiy
little nursery queen. There are better thingft i£han
playthings in the world, — there are mammas, and'
mammals commandments, and papas, and papa's
wishes, and sisters, and sisters' instructions ; and
there is the Bible, and the God of the fiible, and
Jesus Christ and his salvation. My little girl must
think of these things, and be an example to her
young brothers, in order, obedience, and good
manners, <&c.

" You are now at that age wh^n Jesus " increased
in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and
man.'' Meditate on tbis. I am glad to think you
are acquiring knowledge ; but ever keep in mind,
that all other icnowled^e is valuable or not, just so
far as it is united to spiritual knowledge. The word
of God and its blessings form the highest study of
man. May my children grow in such knowledge.
Farewell, my child, try in every thing to please

Your dear Papa."

" P. S. I send a box of changeable ladies to
amuse you, but I do not wish you to become one
of the changeable ladies : — ^yet my heart prays that
you may prove a changed soul."

'' To C

" I cannot let a parcel go to Y without

telling my dear C-;^ — how much her father loves
her. This is a day. ol^.^rateful recollections, and
hopeful anticipations.'^'^M|i^ b)^s my child. May

\ •

3lj9. KU^tMO Of BIRTH DAtS^ tTlTtf

fljiii^ grow in grace with increasing years : n^j she
be diligeQt in her studies, docile in disposition, de^
votionally fervent in spirit, and unwearied in well-
doing I

^' My anxieties have been great since I saw you«
My heart has so clung to my dear boy, that every
tender feeling and affection has been exercised in
the separation from my beloved Wilberforce, but
th$ loss has not diminished but increased my love
to tbo endeared children whom God still spares to
me. I cannot say one thousandth part of what I
would on this subject, but my heart prays that you
may all grow in the knowledge of Him with whom
his soul now lives in blessedness. I hope much
good has arisen to your brothers and sisters at
home from the sanctified effect of this heavy trial.
May my C — feel it likewise, and so experience
the power of real religion in her heart, that it may
appear in her life and conversation. I am very
anxious on this subject* A great work of gracious
awakening has tajien place in the village, in con-
nexion with! Wilberforce's happy end. Many
careless souls are surprisingly changed. This is
a mercy,—- an unspeakable mercy to me as their
minister. Oh I I want all my children to share
abundantly in these dews of heavenly grace. I
' earnestly covet for them these best gifts. Others
will have told you by this parcel how much they
love you. This letter can but very feebly say how
dear you are in the love of a Saviour.

From your affectionate father,

L. R."

Mv MUCH LOVED B07,

^' You expressed some disappointment at dinner,
because you had not received your dear mamma's
promised letter on your birth-day. Whatiias been
the cause of the failure ija^^w not, but 1 will try

• »

f '

LETTERS ON TH^SE OCCASIONS. 30

to compensate for the disappointment by giving
you a few lines. The return of a birth-day, when
rightly viewed, is a subject for very serious medi-
tation : I wish it may prove so to you. We have
seen, in the death of your dear brother, how little
health and strength are to be trusted. Childhood,
and youth, and time, are swiftly passing onward,
and our journey through this vale of tears, whether
longer or shorter, will soon be over. Can you too
early learn the value and importance of time? Will
you not hear the counsel of a father, and meditate
on those things which belong to your everlasting
peace t You have an immortal soul, to be lost or
saved for ever. You have an understanding, to
distinguish between good and evil. You are there-
fore a responsible being, who must render an
account of the deeds done in the body, whether
they be good or whether they be evil. Childhood
is the period when the character and habits of the
future man are formed*. Trifle not therefore with
your childish days. Set a firm and valuable ex-
ample to ^your younger bjother ; he will more or
less imitate your ways and dispositions, be they
better or worse. Remember ! the eye of God is
upon you in every place. Be where you will, do
what you will, you may always say with Hagar in
the wilderness — ^*' Thou God seest me." I have df
late known but little, too little, of your state of
mind and your views of things, temporal and spir-
itual. 1 have had occasional uneasiness on this
subject. You ought ever to be putting forth the
energies of your mind in every proper and possible
way. It is tim^ that yotir attention should be
drawn to your future station in life, whatever pro-
vidence may design it to be. Every day and every
hour should bear witness to some progress and im-
provement in useful learning, and above all, in tha!t
knowledge which makethwise unto aalvation. Ytm

40 KEEPING OF BIRTH-PAYS, WITH

have on all subjects much to learn, and it will not
be acquired without much labour, and firm deter-
mination of mind and talent to the acquirement.
What may be the inclination of your own mind as
to business, profession, or occupation, I know not :
but I wish you most seriously to take this subject
into deliberate consideration, and let me in due
time know the result, that I may give you counsel
and advice. In the mean time, a thirst for useful
knowledge, and a laborious attention to its attain-
ment, will best evidence your fitness for that state
of life into which it may please God to call you.
But you can do nothing well without faith and
prayer, — without much anxious reading of the
Holy Scriptures. This reminds me of your dear
brpther, Wilberforce. He left upon record amongst
you all, his testimony to the value and necessity of
reading the word of God ; and it is my hearths
prayer and desire that all my loved children may
follow his example and his dying exhortations. The
season of the year is fast advancing which brings
all the affections and solemnities of his latter end
to view. Every day of the approaching fortnight
brings to remembrance the various events of his
last days. They are all indelibly fastened on my .
heart's memory ; they live, glow, and burn there
with a vividness of impression, of which none can
be aware, and form a daily part of my very self.
But I refer to them now for my dear Legh's sake,
1 have lost my two eldest boys, and am deeply
solicitous that those who remain to me should be
devoted to God ; and, if spared, become the props
and solace of my advancing years. It is indeed
time, my Legh, that you should feel the importance
of such considerations. You were named Serle
after one of the most holy and excellent men with
whom 1 was ever acquainted. Mere Christian
names can confer no grace ; but I may be per*^

f LBTTIM Oir TBiBSB 0CC1.S101W. 41

mitted to wish, and hope, and pray, that you may
by divine grace, resemble him, and follow him as
he followed Christ. '^The Christian Remem-
brancer," " The Horffi Solitarise," " The Christian
Parent," and many other admirable books bear
testimony to his piety and talents: ''He being
dead yet speaketh." And now, my child, may
every blessing attend you, for this world and the
next, for time and for eternity. May the retuAi of
this birth-day remind you.qf many an important
duty and prmciple. Look into the real state of
your heart, and never be afraid 6t ashamed to
make me acquainted with it. '' The end of all
things is at hand, be ye therefore sober and watch
unto prayer." The heart that now loVes and
watches over you on earth, may ere long, and
niust in time, become cold in the grave: bjit seek
him who never dieth, and his love which never
decaycth, and all shall be well with you here ^nd
hereafter. So counsels and prays

Tour affectionate Father,
Legh Richmond."

I have mentioned Mr. R.^s correspondence with
his mother on his own birth-day. After her decease
he wrote on this occasion the following letter to his
eldest daughter, who was united to an excellent
and valuable minister in the established church of
Scotland.

Mt vert dear DAtJGHTER,

*' Through many a returning year I wrote to my
dear and venerated mother on my birth-day. She
is gone to hdr rest, and I can 6rily communicarte
with her in "grateful recollection and hopeful ariflcS-
pation. To whom can I now address myself with
more propriety and love, on such ati occasion,

42 KEEPING OF BIRTH-DATS, WlTIt

than to my absent, distant, but much-loved child. — '
My child, so mercifully restored to health after so
severe an illness and so much danger, my thoughts
and prayers have been unceasing respecting you.
1 have endeavoured patiently to w^ait upon the Lord,
and he hath heard my prayer. I have viewed this
trying dispensation as sent of God for some great
and good purpose, to your own and to all our souls ;
and 1 trust we shall find it so. You will have to
learn to glorify God in the fires,*.and magnify the
God of your salvation ; to see the precarious tenure
of human life, and to devote your restored powers
of mind and body to him from whom you have
received both. O my dear M — what a God he
is, and what a redemption he has wrought for sin-
ners ! See in your own recent trial an emblem of
Christ's love ;— yourself a brand plucked from the
burning, — saved, yet so as by fire, — raised from
weakness to strength,* — tempest-tost and afflicted,
yet preserved, — cast down, but not destroyed. It
is the heart's desire and prayer to God of your
father, on his birth-day, that all these things may
work together for your good, temporal and spiritual.
It is a day which I always contemplate with much
tender affection, and my thoughts are such as I
cannot utter. Life, death, and eternity spread a
vision before me, and I meditate with solemnity
and deep humiliation. I have lived now more than
half a century. On the past I look with much
repentance for my sins, and much gratitude for my
mercies. Of the future 1 know nothing, except that
my times are in God's hands, and that is enough.
But my responsibilities make me often tremble.
They rise like mountains before me ; but I lift up
my eyes to the hills from whence cometh my help,
and the mountains of difficulty become plains^ and

* Mrs. M. had been sobering from an accident by i^.

LBTTSRS ON THESE OCCASIONS. 43

the rough places smooth. Amongst my mercies I
feel peculiarly thankful for the union of my dear
child with such a man and such a minister as Mr.
M — . This doubly endears Scotland to my heart.
I have formed many valuable friendships, and re-
ceived many kind favours from its inhabitants. I
have delighted in its scenery and tasted many ex-
cellent fruits of its piety : but to have a daughter
placed in the midst of Scotia^s hills and plains ren-
ders the land peculiarly interesting to me.

" May every day add to your strength and com-
fort. May you and I, not only as parent and child,
but as fellow-pilgrims on the road to Zion, walk
lovingly, congenially, and safely to the end of our
journey. I hope, if God spare me, to see you in
the spring, but whether here or there, I am ever

Your affectionate father,

L. R."

From the' amusement of leisure hours, and the
returns of the birth-day memorials, 1 pass on to
notice my friend's care and extreme anxiety to
keep his young people from dangerous associates.
To choose suitable companions is not less difficult
to a Christian parent than to provide useful recre-
ations for them. The peculiar talents of Mr. Rich-
mond enabled him to supply abundant materials for
the employment of leisure hours ; and his strong
affection for his children rendered that a pleasure,
which to many Ivould have been an irksome duty.
He made himself not only a profitable but a suit-
able and interesting companion to them. They
felt no discontent at the strict exduiiioii of other
intimacies, to which there was but one exception^
in the son of a gentleman in his parish, whostudi^HL
under the same tutor, and who was ever admitted
with affectionate esteem and confidence into hjs
family party. Probably, Mr. R.'s marked anxiety

44 caofCK or coMmmoHli.

<m this point maj be traced in part to the unhappjr
career of his eldest son, on whom he had witnessed
the effect of bad influence in a corrupt associate.
So inflexibly did he adhere to his rule, that he
allowed no intercourse whatever with other fam-
ilies, except under his own watchful eye and dil-
igent superintendance. He even declined invita-
tions from personal relatives whom he dearly loved,
and with whom he himself kept up a friendly cor-
respondence. It was his fixed resolve to sacrifice
all considerations of interest, and even courtesy,
although he might thereby expose himself to cen-
sure and misapprehension,— --rather than bring his
children under an influence which he feared might
be injurious to them. When some of them were
nearly grown up, he exercised the same vigilance^
and regarded with suspicion every circumstance
from which he apprehended possible injury.

He used to say — " My dear friends and relations
are amiable and highly respectable. I have great
reason to be grateful for their kind intentions and
good offices ; but I cannot tell what my children
may meet with in a style of life so difiierent from
mine. One fatal hour may undo years of instruc-
tion, and give me endless perplexity. I have sufier-
ed enough from sending a child from home.^^

His sentiments on this subject are expressed in
the following letter to Mrs. R. who had asked his
advice before she consented to allow. one of his
daughters to accompany a lady of great respecta-
bility, and undoubted piety, into Devon, to spend
the winter there. It was not improper that Mrs.
R. should wish her children to see something of the
world, and be gradually accustomed to act for them-
^ selves. The character of the protector and com-
panion was a suflicient guarantee against evil con-
tact Our friend was at that time in Scotland, from
whence he feplied to the application.

CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 45

" My dear LOVE,

*' In common with my own parents I have ever
had strong, very strong objections tp allow my chil-
dren to visit any where withoutoneof their parents;
and through life I have seen and lamented evils aris-
ing from the want of superintendance, and the ab-
sence of those who are most concerned in guarding
against the mischief of association with other fami-
lies. As a general rule, therefore, I have always
objected to it, from conscientious motives. Yet
there may be exceptions, and I readily admit that

the case in question may be one of them I

wish to make home the grand centre of attraction, ^ ,^,
affection, and comfort. You know from this year's
experience how ready I am to give our girls the ad-
vantage of seeing life ; but 1 cannot think that the
withdrawing the parentis eye would increase the ad-
vantages of a journey. Never is that eye and ear so
necessary as at such an age. I would infinitely rather
undertake the responsibility attached to possible and
contingent evils which might occur under the vigilant
and tender superintendance of parents, than those
which might arise from the connexions and habits
formed when that restraint is withdrawn. I perfectly
accord with you in wishing our dear children to gain
advantages from associating with our various Chris- '^
tian friends, and am acting daily on your own ideas.
But I see more and more, daily, how exceedingly
desirable my own presence Li and that continually.
But when the will of God is expresssed in regard to
health, &c. and the path of duty is thereby clearly
pointed out to me, you must not suppose me to be
either indifierent or positive. At the same time I see
mountains of difficulty in deciding, out of numerous
requests, which to accept, and which to refuse.

" I approve your plan for Wilberforce — 1 do not
appose your wishes for Mary — I only pause-r^but 1

46 cHoioB or coMPANioirs.

much admire your sentiments, and taking both body
and mind into consideration, hope it may be the will
of God.

^Farewell, dear love. Cherish a comfortable
spirit, — do not mistrust God — let not your soul be
disquieted within you, — look kindly on providenceei
and hopefully on events, and ever regard me as

Your faithful

LEGH."

Some of Mr. R's best friends have disapproved
the severity of restraint which he judged it right to
impose on his children. They have blamed him for
interdicting the usual freedom of intercourse with
families whose conduct and principles he approved.
It is possible his feelings were morbidly acute on
occasions, and his extreme anxiety for the spiritual
welfare of his family often proved injurious to him-
self, for he sometimes passed a sleepless night in
expectation of an ordinary visit on the morrow. —
fiach was his vigilance, that if a friend introduced
his son under circumstances of common courtesy,
he appeared restless and uneasy if the young people
were left together without superintendance for a
few moments. Other persons might[also have taken
vantage of an extensive popularity to benefit their
fiimilies, but he never could be prevailed on to use a
fair opportunity of bringing them forward to notice,
to advance their temporal welfare.

** I cannot endure," he used to say, '* even to
seem to make my religious influence a stepping-
stone to promotion for me or mine."

Whatever may be thought of my friend^s judg-
ment, it is impossible not to respect, admire, and
love the holy integrity, the perfect simplicity and
openness of object in the man of God, and I cannot
doubt that his purity of inotive has been recorded

CHOIQIB Of OOMPANIOira. 47

in heaven, and will be owned on earth after many
days. Whatever worldly advantages, supposed or
real may have b^n lost to his family from the
steady application- of religious principle, however
pushed to an extreme, an abundant compensation
shall be made by that Being whose blessing invaria-
bly attends a faithful adherence to the dictates of
conscience, and who has promised, "Him that
honoureth me, I will honour/'

My dear M

*'^ We have had a very prosperous journey thus
far. I am passing a few comfortable days with

at this place. But, alas I this is a town in

which speaking of our own church, religion is little
known. The mhabitants of all ranks think of no-
thing but money, folly, vanity, and dissipation: their
evenings are. spent in the unprofitable anxieties
of the card table, the ensnaring amusement of
dancing, or the delusions and temptations of the
play-house, their mornings in idle gossipings and
waste .of time. When f see these things, I feel
satisfied that I have kept my dear children from
such scenes, and such companions. Oh! how
lamentable to contemplate a great town full of in-
habitants, gentry, clergy, manufacturers, tradesmen,
&c. living almost without God in the world ; error
preached from the pulpits; no cares for the souls of
the people ; no family prayer in the houses ; no zeal
for religion, unless, perhaps, it be now and thei|
excited to abuse and ridicule all those who ^ve
any real love for God and their souls. y^

^'May my dear child be preserved frolft |he
defilements of a vain, dangerous and destroying
world. You know not, and I wish you never may «,
know, its snares and corruptions. I was greatly '

afiected in conversing with a family at , upon

the marriage of their daughter, under the following

4B GB02CB or COMPANIONS.

circumstances ; the father was an exemplary clergy^
man, the mother a most pious woman ; they had
* brought up a family with strict attention to religious
precepts and principles, and they were not without
hope that their daughter had some piety.

'* A-young .man of properly, but of do decided
religious principle, became acquainted with her. —
Inattentive to the affectionate duties ^which she
owed to her excellent parents, their feelings, and
their advice, she suffered her mind to be led away
into an attachment towards the young man. The
parents were aware that his general habits and
views would be uncongenial to their wishes for a
daugter^s spiritual welfare, and therefore objected.
However, the daughter so far obtained her wishes,
that a very reluctant consent was given to the mar-
riage. The daughter, gradually led away into
worldly company and amusements, has given up
even the outward profession of religion, and now
lives as the world lives. Yet she is not happy ; and
her parents are very unhappy. The daughter can-
not help remembering the example, the exhorta-
tions, the prayers, the solicitudes, and the tears of
her parents ; but it is only with remorse, which she
strives to drown in worldly company and carnal
amusements. They wept over the case with me,
which presents a proof of the sad consequences of
young people giving way to hasty impressions, and
yielding to connexions not founded on a regard to
the honour of God, gratitude to parents, and con-
sistency with a religious profession. How needful
is it that Christian parents, and Christian children,
should be firm and conscientious in the important
^ duty of encouraging connexions for life only on
* gf Christian principles ! what distress to families, and
*' • what decays of hopeful character have resulted from
a deficiency on this point ! Let me warn my dear
M against that unbecoming levity, with which

CHQICE OP COMPANIONS. 41)

many young people treat these subjects. Evil com*
inunications corrupt ffood nranners, very especially
in this matter. The love of Christ is the only sare '
ground of all motives, and all CQnduct. Where
this is established all is well. The life-blood
of Christianity then circulates through every vein
of the soul ; and health, strength, and purity of
mind is the happy result. Fall down upon your

knees before God, my M , praying that he

would pour that love into your heart, till it become
a constraining principle for the government of your
thoughts and actions. This is the only remedy for
all the diseases of the soul.

" Beware of pride and self conceit; of fretful
tempers and discontent. Learn to quell impatience
and obstinacy. Let your first, your very first,
delight be in serving God by serving your parents.
Reckon not on youth, or long life. Devote yourself
to active usefulness in the family,.and in the parish.
Shew forth the principles in which you have been
educated, by a practical exhibition of them in your
conduct. But who is sufficient unto these things?
Christ. Without Him you can do nothing ; no, not
so much as think a good thought. But you can do
all things through Christ strengthening you. He is
the sufficiency of all his people. By faith in him
you obtain power to perform duty. By grace are
ye saved, and that not of yourselves ; not of works,
lest any one should boast. Could works save us,
we might boast, and heaven would be full of
boasters. But, no, no, no ; the song of the saints
is, " Not unto us, not unto us, but unto thy name
be all the glory."

Your affectionate Father,

Legh Richmond,"

It may be thought that a transition from seclusion
to an active life, itom the habits of a retired village
to the busy haunts of men, is more safe when grad-^

so HOME CORRESPONDENCE^

ual than when sudden, and that as young personsr
must sodnor or laten be connected with the world
that lies in wickedness, it were better to accustom
their mindu bf difgfees to a contact which will be
afterwards iinaffiidaddle. A Christian parent will,
howe^fi Bstigf ezttemefy jealous of the modern prac-
/tice oJ^e)epdtiipg jroutljiirto a prurient knowledge of
' ' evit, ofrMboviog parental superintendance at too
efiriyan agci^ana of alMwing an unrestrained free-
dom.of asiBOtiiiiliop, which appears to me, as it did
to Mr. ]^. to. 1^ attended with great danger. The
effects of present habits are but too obvious; pre-
mature and indiscriminate intercourse, and the re-
laxation of former discipline, has generated a race
of Tyros whose chief distinction seems to be a con-
tempt for authority, and a rash and arrogant pre-
tension to superiority very unbecoming their years
or station. It is far better to train up a child in the
ways of God than in the maxims of the world, — to
be more intent on securing for him an entrance into
life eternal, than, with a hope of present advantage,
to put to hazard the salvation of his immortal soul.
I would apologize (if apology be necessary) for
dwelling on details which may appear too trifling
for notice, but the Christian parent, who can duly
estimate the * potency of little things,' may collect
from them some useful hints for the regulation of
his own family, and with this view 1 insert them.

Mr. R. was an early riser, and he endeavoured
to inspire the same activity in the minds of his chil-
dren. He used to read with them in his study, at
as early an hour as six o'clock in the morning, and
as occasions arose, prayed with them in succession ;
he was very attentive to their regularity, neatness,
and good manners, and he endeavoured to make the
"conversation at table useful and improving. Some-
times he proposed a subject for discussion, and when
he perceived youthful spirits rising to excess, he
would throw in a remark to check the exuberance.

H0.1E COflREgFONDEHCE. 51

No one aimed more constantly to restrain Uie evils
of the tongue in his family ; if^ ever an Oliienration
was made to the disadvantage of aDother, his uneasi-
nesswas apparent ; slander in any shape was dis-
tasteful to him, and he was sure to say something in
aUowance or excuse. Indeed Mr. R, particularly
excelled in conversational powers: with a fund of
good humour, he abounded in anecdote, and having '
a targe acquaintance with science of every kind, he
never failed to entertain : andTvilh a soul ever intent
on the glory of God, and the best interests of his
fellow creatures,, he was under no temptation to
sacrifice the useful to the amusing. Table talk is
seldom regarded with a proper sense of its import-
ance. Servants are oAen on the wa|ch to get some-
thing for circulation, and to retail among themselves
the opinions which their masters have expressed in
their presence ; the general strain of social inter-
course ought therefore to be regulated with a view
to their improvement. Children are apt to trifle,
and relate all they have heard without discrimina-
tion, and they need an eider to guide and give 8
tone to their conversation ; this my excellent friend
accomplished in a manner the most felicitous ; he
allowed and even encouraged perfect freedom and
ease, yet every one felt that there was an eye and
an ear over every thing.

Innumerable mischiefs arise to children from too
close an intimacy with domestics ; a foundation is
often laid, here, for opinions and habits difScult to
be afterwards eradicated : not only are coarse and
vulgar tastes imbibed, but vices of an apalling char-
acter are learnt in the stable or the kitchen, where
ready instrumenla are frequently found to concur in
deceiving a parent, or gratifying some bad propen-
sity in the minds of children. It was a point of
importance in Mr. R,'s mind, that no wicked person
should dwell beneath his roof; his domestics, as fw

52 HOME CORRESPONDENCE.

lis practicable, were selected from persons of good
principles, and they became deeply attached to the
family. Yet, even under these circumstances, he
forbad all unnecessary intercourse ; there are doubt-
less, many faithful servants, worthy of our esteem
and confidence, but as a general rule, intimacies
of this kind are productive of evil, and no good can
arise from too close a connexion between our chil-
dren and dependants. Mr. R. provided each child
with a separate sleeping-room, thu§ securing a com-
fortable place of i-elirement and devotion. These
little sancttjaries were always accessible to himself;
he often visited them to leave a note on the table ;
for while at home as well as when abroad, he kept
up a correspo^jdence with his family, which he used
to call his Home Mission ^ and to these notes he
requested a reply. I have heard him explain his
reasons for so singular a method of instruction ; he
used to say, ^^ I feel an insurmountable backward-
ness to close personal conversation with my chil-
dren, when I begin they are silent, and it is not long
before I also feel tongue tied ; yet I cannot be easy
without ascertaining the effect of my instructions,
and hence I have been driven to use my pen, be-
pause I could not open my lips.'^ Mr. R. is not
the ooly lather who has felt and yielded to this
repugnance, without adopting his ingenious remedy
for a weakness not uncommon, yet not the Jess to
be lamented. I am, however, disposed to estimate
this home correspondence more highly than a direct
personal appeal. Conversation, (if it be not a con-
tradiction so to speak,) is apt to be all on one side ;
but a communication by letter admits of freedom
and reflection, and if a reply be expected, obliges
an interchange of sentiments. It also teaches young
people to think and compose.

When circumstances required a longer epistle,
as when a fault needed correction, or a removal

HOME CORRESPONBENCK. 53

from the family was about to take place,— when
preparation for a religious ordinance was required,
or the choice of a profession to be made, — on such
occasions Mr. R. was diffuse, earnest, and parties
ular ; at other times^'his little notes contained only
an affectionate suggestion of a text for meditation,
or a hint to improve ^ome event He seetned
anxious that his children should have a subject, io
use his own phrase, ^' on the stocks,^^ and a habit
of always employing their minds, and making the
best use of the hours which usually run to waste, —
the moments and interstices of time. He used to
say, " an idle moment is Satan's opportunity."

The reader may expect a specimen or two of
these short notes, which, as I hate already ob*
served, were conveyed by himself, and left on the i^..
table in his children's rooms, with a request for a
reply within a limited time. These replies formed
the subjects of his prayer on their behsilf.

Dear H.

"Your text tOHlay shall be, " the blood of Jesus
Christ cleanseth from all sin." No sin is too gre%t
to be pardoned; but then the soul must see^ bch
lieve, and experience this mercy. There is infinite
value in the blood of Christ, but the believer alone
enjoys the privilege. " Believe on the Lord Jesus
Christ, and thou shalt be saved." This is the way, ^
and the truth, and the life. My dear child, what
should, what ; could we lost sinners do, if it were
not for this atoning merit. Seek and you shall find.
Lose no time, — Christ waits to be gracious, carry
your heart and all its feelings to him in prayer, and
when you have told him all your wants, pray for
your affectionate Father,

L. Richmond."
6*

54 home correspondence.

My dearest F,

"As 1 trust that it is your own and my wish,
that your mind should be seriously and atfection-
atelj^ directed towards the greatest of all external
privileges, the Lord's Supper,! wish you to answer
me in writing, these two questions : — What are
your views of the nature, design, and privilege of
this sacrament ? and what are the real feelings of
your heart at this time respecting it ? This com-
munication is, and shall be, quite confidential be-
tween you and your affectionate Father.

P. S. I trust the first Saturday in October may
unite us at the feast of love."

My dear L.

" I leave these 'few lines with you, in the hope
that you will reply to them while I am in Cam-
bridge. You must write, therefore, not later than
by Tuesday's post. I do from my heart desire to
know whether you do, or do not, feel an anxiety
about your souJ's salvation. Has the aflecting
thought, * I must live for ever in heaven or hell,'
suitably impressed your mind ? This black border
may remind you of your dear departed brother, —
but does his memory live in your heart for good ?
It is time you seriously reflected on eternity, and
the value of your soul. You are a sinner ; and with-
out a gracious Saviour you must perish. Do you
pray in Christ's name ? and that earnestly, for the
pardon of your sins ? May I hope that you are a
penitent ? Do you think of Willy's last words to
you, and of all that he so earnestly recommended
to your serious attention ? Have you written down
his dying words, as I desired you ? Be not afraid
to open your mind to me. Let us have an unre-
served intercourse with each other. Put away
childish things, — imitate your brother's love of

HOME correspondeck; 55

learning, but especially his love of the Bible, and
his constancy in the exercises of devotion. Oh !
comfort your father's heart, by truly turning to 6cfd,»
and seeking his salvation ; and may God bless yov
for ever and ever, which is the fervent prayer of
your affectionate parent,

L. R."

Mv DEAR Child,

" I am pleased, much pleased with your letter^
the more so as it contains some expressions, which
inspire a hope that you are beginning to think and
feel seriously about your soul's salvation. While
I cannot but be most tenderly affected by the loss
of my two elder sons, endeared to me by a thou-
sand recollections, I become the more anxious for
the welfare of those children whom God spares to
me. For the last year I have gone through great
trials, and my health has suffered more than any
are aware of; but in the midst of all my sorrows,
the inexpressible goodness of God has been most
manifest, and 1 trust my afflictions have been blest
to many. Many a rose has sprung up around the
cold grave of dear Willy, and they still blossom,
and 1 trust will continue to blossom, till they be
transplanted from the spiritual garden of Turvey,
to the paradise of God. But can I be otherwise
than anxious that my dear K — should add a flower
to my domestic and parochial shrubbery. Are you
to reach your sixteenth year, and not internally, as
well as externally, -prove yourself a partaker of the
grace of God. 1 trust not, — but religion is not a
matter of mere circumstantials, or of morals. It is
the spiritual application of divine truth to the heart,
producing that devotedness to God, which distin-
guishes the true from the nominal Christian. But
when, how, and where does this begin? Not until

56 HOME CORRESPONDENCE.

you have deep, humbling, sincere, and anxious
thoughts about yourself, and the favour of God ;
IMK until, by a kind of holy violence, you feel con-
itrained to flee to Christ, as the ohiy refiige from
the wrath to come ; not until pniyer becomes im-
portunate, and the study of God^s word a delight ;
not until every other consideration yields to that
infinitely important inquiry, ^^ Wl^at must I do to
be saved V^ Not until the light, trifling, and thought-
less child of man be converted, through grace, to
the serious, conscientioU3^ and believing state of the
real child of God. Is this the case with you? I
speak as a christian father, and minister. What are
your views of these important subjects ? I wish
my child to be deeply earnest ; life flies apace, the
period of the tomb advances. I have four children
in eternity ; it is true that eight more still continue
with me on earth, but how long will they be here ?
Wluch of them may next be taken from me ? 1
think on these things with deep solemnity. You
tremble at the thought of a school-examination, —
but what is this to the examination before the judg-
ment-seat of God. Go, then, as a sinner to Christ.
He sends none empty away. In him and him
alone, there is a rich provision for all who come to
him. But let this coming mean a surrender of all
you are, and all you have, to the Lord of grace and
glory. Be contented with nothing short of reality
in religion.

** Whence came I ? — memory cannot say ; —
What am I ? — knowledge will not show ; —
Bound whither? — ah! away — away-
Far as eternity can go ;
Thy love to win, thy wrath to flee,
Oh God ! thyself my helper be."

Farewell, my dear child, and believe me.

Your truly loving father,

L.R."

DISCIPLINE. 97

Discipline is a sulqect of no small moment in the
education of a family. Offences must needs comCf
and the foolishness which is bound up in the heait
of a child, will discover itself in acts of disobedience
both to God a'nd a parent. How this is to be met,
controlled, and subduded, has occasioned a differ-
ence of Opinion between good and wise men. It is
agreed that authority must be maintained, and that
all that is sinful and injurious to a child^s welfare
must be firmly resisted. But it is not easy to avoid
the extremes of harshness, and a weak fondness ; —
to be firm^ yet kind ; to do nothing from temper,
from partiality or caprice ; to preserve composure
under circumstances of provocation,.

I cannot undertake to decide whether corporal
chastisement is to be inflicted or dispensed with.
The Scripture warns us equally against severity and
unduQ tenderness, ** not to provoke wrath, nor
honour our children above God ;" on this point men
must deternijpe . according, to the dictates of th^ir
own consciences. So far I am satisfied, that there
are few occasions when the rod is indispensably ne-
cessary, and none which will justify its use under the
rufflings of temper ; nor will the effect be salutary,
if a child does not at the time feel it to be reluctant
severity, giving more pain to the ofiended, than to
the offender, force may be the easier way of
settling a difference, and is probably often resorted
to from a wish to escape the trouble and labour of
more reasonable methods of eradicating evil ; but
it seldom fails to excite sinful exasperations, and
induce a brutish character ; and thg example on the
part of the parent, is often found unfavourable to
right dispositions in the other members of the
family towards each other, ifet I am bound to
admit, as the result of rmy own observation, that
even severity is a less evil in its consequences, than
a weak connivance at a childtf^i^nduct. Th«

58 DISCIPLINE.

parent who '' never displeases his child at any
time,^^ must expect to reap the fruits of his own
folly in the ruin of his offspring. Excessive indul-

Ence seldom fails to bring a rebuke along with it.
r. Richmond's method of discipline was peculiar
to himself, partly the effect of his own unbounded
tenderness and affection, but in a great measure, of
his deep and extraordinary piety. He could never
be justly accused of a weak connivifhce at evil, for
here he was resolute, firm and infexible ; yet he
was never known to employ corporal chastisement.
Whatever may be thought of his treatment of
offences, it was felt by every member of his family,
that nothing coirid make h^m yield, or shake his
resolution, — nay, not for a moment. He was alive
to all that was wrong in principle or conduct, and
he never ceased to remonstrate, or to employ
means to reduce his child to obedience, and awaken
in him a sense of error. But the chief way in
which he marked his displeasure, yras by those
signs of extreme distress, which penetrated the
heart of the delinquent, and softened rebellion into
regret. From the misconduct of his child, he
seemed to reflect on himself, as the author of a
corrupt being. He humbled himself before God,
and in prayer sought help from above, while he
kept the offender at a distance, or separated him
from the societj^ of his family, as one unworthy to
share in their privileges and affections. No one of
hiei^ children could long endure this exclusion, or
bear with sullen indifference, a countenance which
silently expressed the deepest anguish. Perhaps
there never was a family where the reign of love
suffered less interruption. The reader must form
his own opinion of Mr. R.^s mode of regulating his
family. He must determine for himself, how far a
discipline of this kind is worthy of imitation, or is
suitable to his own circumstances. Where there

LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 59

exists the same consistency and unity of purpose,
an equal desire to glorify God in all thinirs, and a
similar diligence in the education of a family, 1 feel
confident that the divine blessing will crown with
success the exercise of this or any other discipline
of a Christian parent.

Two or three other letters to his children, touch-
ing both on lively and on serious topics, will appro-
priately close this chapter.

Sea Bank^ Ayrshire.

My much LOVED F — ,

'^ As you hear all the good news from Glasgow,
I need not repeat it. Now take u Scotch map and
you shall see where 1 am. Look on the sea coast
of Ayrshire, and you see a place between Ayr and
Largs called Salt Coasts. Close to this a lovely
cottage called Sea Bank, the residence of my friend
Mr. — . In the front is a magnificent view of the
sea as far as Ireland — The Frith of Clyde with its
beauteous islands — ^Arran, whose craggy pictur-
esqe mountains tow6r to the sky in the wildest,
highest style of romantic grandeur and beauty —
Bute, smaller, but very lovely — The Cuimbraies —
The long peninsula of Cantyre, and over it the
high pyramydical mountains of Jura — The coast of
Ayrshire, farther than the eye can reach, and the
surprising rock called the Craig of Ailsa, risine up
in the midst of the ocean, far away from all land,
and sustaining solitary majesty, the almost unmo-
lested haunts of wild birds, goats and rabbits. Yes-
terday there was a great storm, and the sea raged
horribly. I saw many a vessel tossed about in all
directions. I went down to the shore, and stood
astounded amidst roaring waves, screaming sea-
fowls, and whistling winds. To-day all is calm,
gentle and inviting. Yesterday I saw the sublime,
to-day the beautiful. I am writing at a window

60 LETTERS TO HIS CHlLDltCir.

which commands the whole view. Somehow or
other 1 am much amused with the appearance and
conduct of a large flock of poultry, just now parad-
ing about on the lawn beneath me. There are five
pea-fowls, six turkeys, twenty cocks and hens, and
a solitary goose from Botany Bay. They walk and
talk with much diversified gait and air. The sober
gravity of their pace, occasionally interrupted by
a gobble, a jump, and a snap ; the proud loftiness of
the peacock, sometimes expressed in solemn silence,
and sometimes by a very unmusical squall. The
ruffling vibrations of the turkey cock's feathers,
with now and then a brisk advance towards his
rival of the green ; the social grouping of the cocks
and hens, contrasted with the unsocial condition
and march of the poor unpartnered goose, who
grunts dismally, and sometinfies turns up a doubtful
sort of a side look at me, as I sit at the window, as
much as to say, ''Who are you?" Sometimes a
continued silence for a space, and then a sudden
and universal cackling, as if they were all at once
tickled or frightened, or in some way excited to
garrulity. All this amuses me, not a little. There
are also two noble watch-dogs ; 1 wish they had
been at the house when the robbers came. I feel
much when at a distance from home, — even minor
sources of trouble harass and disturb me, when I
am so far from you. Let us pray for faith and con-
fidence in God alone. I think of going to lona, it
is sacred and classic ground. May every blessing
attend my children.

So prays their affectionate father,

Legh Richmond."

Glasgow.

Mt own dear Child,

" On my return home, 1 found your letter, and
hasten to give you a few lines in reply. I thought

WTTKRS TO HIS CHILDREN. .61

you long in writing, and welcomed your hand .with
much delight. Indeed, my F — , you and I are not
sufficiently intimate in religious intercourse and
correspondence ; we must become more 90y and
may Uod enable us. Let us walk and talk, and sit
and talk more on these subjects than we have
done. Time flies, events are uncertain, provi-
dences, health, and life are transient and mutable.
I hope the ensuing winter will unite us closer than
ever. Winter is my domestic dependence ; your
heart is with me in this feeling. I much regret
that circumstances have prevented your travelling
with me this year, but 1 hope next summer will be
more propitious. When I return we will read and
talk over together such scenes as we mutually love,
and you shall hear of my interesting journey to
Stafia and lona. Nature, grace, history, antiquity,
compassion, taste, and twenty more subjects and
affections all meet there. I will match the festival
which I gave to the poor children of Icolmkill on
St Colomba's day with the gala of Mr.
Moreover I wrote a right noble copy of verses for
the children to sing. Mr. M. is a truly valuable
man. He grows daily in my estimation. I feel
much pleased at tlie prospect of my dear .^s

union ; her tender heart is fixed, although her
^^affections are strongly bound to her family. En-
courage and elevate her spirits when you write, for
her nerves are delicate. It is a great question, aind
God I trust is settling it for her. * # * #
Mr. M. is a man of God, and makes religion and
conscience the ground of all he says and does.

Read the life of Mrs. Isabella Graham of New
York, Mr. M's aunt. It will shew you the sort of
piety of Mr. M. and his family, all of Whom are
valuable characters.

What a terrible storm you had I The Lord rides
in the storm. ^ He can create, and he destroy.*

•7

ii.

Mb LSTTBH8 TO HIS CHILDRXK.

I hope you do not forget him in the midst of
agreeable society. The care- of a soul, its natural
departures from God, its proneness to make idols
of the'creature, and the extreme narrowness of the
straight gate, are subjects for our deep meditation^
Alas I how many among our respectable and decent
fnends and acquaintance are still in an unconverted
state, strangers to the real experience of the heart,
ftiid unacquainted with the love of Christ I Care-
lessness and comparative insensibility, ruin more
souls than deliberate acts of resolute iniquity. You
have need to be jealous over your own soul, and to
watch and pray that you enter not into temptation.
Real piety is a very different thing from mere decent
profession, educational propriety, and orderly con-
duct ; yet without it none can enter the kingdom
of God. Where a deep sense of guilt and depravity
does not subsist, all else is a mere name, and it is
much easier to admit this as a doctrine, than to feel
and act upon it as a truth. I want my children to
be living commentaries on my sermons and princi-
ples. 1 long to see them adorning the Gospel of
Christ in all things, and that from the inner man of

the heart I have no objection to Mr. 's being

liberal and hospitable. I only lament that among
the lower classes, dancing and debauchery are
nearly synonymous, and therefore 1 must absent
myself from such fetes. So poor dear S. W.* is
dead. To what trials are the best Christians for
a time given up ! Frequently during delirium, the
most holy have appeared the most wicked in thought
and action. But of Aer Christianity I cannot have a
doubt. * ♦ * I saw-- — last week * * Oh !
'how time flies, generation succeeds generation, like
waves on the sea ; but whither shall we float at
last ? Much, much, very much goes to secure a

*Oike of his poor ptriBhionera.

f«BVrSRS TO Hia GHrLDRCir.

8«fe entrance into the eternal harbour of peace and
safety. All subjects;, sink into insignificance com*
pared with this. How foolish, how wicked are we

in this matter I Farewell, my beloved F , much

of my domestic comfort depends on you ; love your
father, for indeed he loves you. When and while
you can, be a prop to his feelings and spirits^. Now
the period is arrived when I look for tfaeliarvest of
filial intercourse, of which I sowed the seeds with
such anxiety in your infancy and childhood. May
every blessmg be with you, in time and eternity.
Seven^times a day I pray, and say, '^ God bless mf
dear wife — God bless my dear children — God bless
my dear parishioners — and God bless my own im-
mortal soul.'^
Thia comes firom the heart of your loving father,

Legh Richmond/V

Extract of a letter to his daughter F —

^^ I saw A M ^last week ; she is like no

one else, it is a little Paradise to be where she is :
simplicity, fluency, devotedness, natural talent, and
gracious acquirements at eighty-four, concentrate
a kind of glory playing around her head and heart.

Mr. ' has left , there are great lamentm*

tions, but I think I see the hand of God in it ; there
is danger indeed when the minister, rather than the
master, is. the object of delight ; but such religion
will soon decay and dissipate. ♦ * * * ♦
One thing, my F— > — , is most certain, that a great
deal more than commonly manifests itself amongst
the generaUty of rich and genteel professors, is
necessary to adorn, if not constitute, real, vital, sav-
ing religion. The manners, the opinions, the lux-
uries, the indolence, the trifling, the waste of time
and talents, the low standard, the fastidiousness,
Ihe pride^ and many more etceteras stand awfnll/

64 LKTfiftf fb Hm emcijitfeir.

in the way of religious attainment and progresi^
hence it is, that in so many instances, the religion
of the cottage so much outstrips that of the man-
sion ; and that we derive so much more benefit
from intercourse with the really sincere Christians
amongst the poor, than amongst the too refined,
showy, lui(urious, and dubious professors in higher
classes. Thank God, however, there are some,
though few, yet delightful, specimens amongst the
rich ; the gate is too straight for some of the camels.
* ♦ * * Allow me, with a heart fuU

of love and esteem for my dearly loved F y

to ask whether you have considered the subject of
iny last letter ; do you not see, on mature exam*
ination of your own heart, that religion has not
done all that it ought to have done in this respect
for my dearest child ; has not something of discon-
tent been mingled with the lawful exercise of affec-
tion ? has not Christ been in some degree robbed
of his love and duty in your heart of late ? 1 en-
treat my dear child to take this frank, but affection-
ate reproof in good part. 1 love you so dearly, that
I want to see you holy, happy, and heavenly. True,
deep, and unfeigned piety will alone induce a right
frame ; not the fretful weariedness of this world,
but the mrnd reconciled to all the dealings of the
Lord, because they are Hi»y and that for both
worlds. — I gave an historical, antiquarian, ecclesi-
astical, picturesque, mineralogical andreligious lec-
ture on lona and Staffa, to about 150 ladies and
gentlemen in the school-room at Olney last Wed-
nesday. I spoke for two hours and a half. 1 pro-
duced fifty illustrative pictures, and all my pebbles^
and other specimens. 1 did the same at Emberton.
All expressed satisfaction.

Your affectionate Father,

L. R.^

liBTTSRS TO BIS CHILDRXlf,

V * Turvey, Dec. 1924.

** I think, dearest F , that the plan which I

suggested will be best for your return home; give
me a letter to precede you. ^' Hie sumus \*^ quiet,
comfortable, and uniform in our daily course, with-
out many striking events to diversify it by day or
by night, unless it be that the younger bairns are
rather noisy by day, and the cats in the garde*
outrageously so by night Mamma is detamed at
Bath, oy the lingering and precarious state of Mrs.

C . Willy is not materially different. My

dear, much-loved boy ! No one will, ever know
what I have inwardly undergone on his account
since May last. I have no reason to doubt that bis
mind is in a good state, but 1 think its exercises are
somewhat too dependent on the fluctuations of his
body. I entreat you, when restored to his com-
panionship, to second every wish of my heart ib
promoting serious, devotional, and determinale
piety and occupation of heart I sometimes fear
that his mind is too playful, too comparatively care-
less, in the midst of carefulness. He is an invalid
of too precarious a class to trifle, or to be trifled
with. Watch over his besetting infirmities, and aim,
without appearing to intend it, to correct them.

Many persons, God be praised, appear at this
time to be under serious impressions, and theLord^s
work in this parish is evidently progressing. I
earnestly wish to see it so under my own roof, as

well as in my neighbours' cottages. Yes, my F ,

my own loved child, I wish to witness more positive,
decided, unequivocal, demonstrations of it in your
own]J heart Beware of substituting mere senti-
mentalism for vital experience ; and any, however
subtle, species of idolatry for the simple, sincere,
unsophisticated love of Jesus. Jesus, the sinner's
refuge I — Jesus, the sinner's friend ! — ^Jesus, the

66 LBTTBR8 TO HIS CUlhDKtM*

sinner^s compfttiion. Beware of the fascinating but
dangerous tribe of poets, iictionists, story-tellers,
and dramatists, whose writings steal away the heart
from God, secretly poison the spring of devotion,
create false standards of judgment and rob God of
his honour. Never let the ignis fatuus of genius
Jlie^uile you into the swamps and puddles of immo-
rality, DHich less of infidelity : the heart is deceitful
above all things, and desperately wicked : who can
know it ? Ten thousand thieves and robbers within
are continually purloining God of our best affec-
tions ; they assume imposmg attitudes, array them-
selves in false attire, speak Battering words, ^^ pro-
phecy smooth things,^' delude the imagination, and
darken the soul. Watch and pray, that ye enter
not into .temptation. Always keep a searching
experimental book in private reading, to accompany
the study and daily reading of the word of God.
Beware of trifling and mere gossiping conversation,
even with religious friends ; the aforenamed thieves
and robbers are never more active than under the
plausible guise of unprofitable intercourse with
those, whom on good grounds we esteem.

*' The time is short" should be written on every
one and every thing we see. Dear Charlotte
Buchanan is now gone to the rest that remaineth
for the people of God. Do you not now feel, that
had you anticipated so speedy a bereavement, many
a thought would have been cherished, many a word
uttered, many a conversation held, more congenial
with the idea of her early flight from time to
eternity, from the visible lo the invisible world ?
But you know not who may go next. If, then,
virhere health may still bloom on the cheek, so much
consideration is due, how much more so, when
sickness and anticipated decay warn us, that tho&e
we love, may not long be with us. I deeply feel that
our general standard of social and domestic religion

t«

htnEtLs TO HIS cHitDRKir; Gli

is too low. It does not sufficiently (Partake of Ihe
more simple and pure vitality of the poormaois
piety. The cottage outstrips the drawmg-room, in
the genuine characteristics of the gospel efficacy. —
The religion of the one is more like wine, that of the
other wine and water, in various degrees of mixture.
There is not only to be found in the religious,
world, a solid, substantial, consistant, and devoted
character, but there is also what may be termed a
pretty genteel sort of evangelism, which too weH
combines with the luxurious ease and partial acqui-
escence of the world, and the flesh, not to say the
Devil also, fiut such evangelism will not prepare
the soul for sickness, death and eternity, or will,
at best, leave it a prey to the most fearful doubtsi,
or, still more to be feared, the deluiions of fabe
peace. The way that leads to eternal life is much
more narrow, than many of our modern professors
are aware of; the gate is too straight to allow all
their trifl^ing, and self-will, and fastidiousness, and
carnal-mindedness to press through it. The gospel
is a system of self-denial : its dictates teach us to
strip ourselves, that we may clothe others ; they
leave us hungry, that we may have wherewith to
feed others ; and sent us bare-footed among ihe
thorns of the world, rather than silver-shod, with
mincing steps, to walk at our ease amongst its
snares. When our Lord was asked, " Are there
few that shall be saved ?." he answered neither Yes
nor No ; but said, '* Strive to enter in at the straight
gate," and this word " strive," might be translated
** agonize." Beware of belonging to that class,
which Mrs. H. ingeniously calls '* the borderers." •
Choose whom you witl serve, and take care not to
prefer Baal. Ask yourself every night, what por-
tion of the past day have I given to God, to Christ,
to devotion,to improvement, to benevolent exertion,
to eflfectual growth in grace. Weep for the deficiea-

68 LITTSRB TQ HIS GBIia>BS]r,

cieB you therein discover, and pray for pardon and
brighter progress. We intend next Thursday to
give a little feast to a great company of the poor
chidren of Turvey. Dear Willy will not be able
this year to explain the Magic Lantern, and talk to
them about ^^ Lions and Whittingtons," so we must

.try to be optical without H will act behind

the scenes, but make no speeches. « « «
****♦! hope to hear a better
account of Mrs. W — — , to whom present my very
affectionate regards. From my heart I wish you a
merry Christmas and a happy^ new year when it

comes. St James explains '.' Merry," v*^"^^s ^» l^*)
so does our Lord, (Luke xv. 24.) May such
merry-makings be ours. Our love to all. Tell Mr.
M. to write Ho Wilberforce. I want correspond-
ents who will do him good, and not trifle. I am to
preach two Missionary Sermons at Cambridge on

the thirteenth. Farewell, my beloved F , come

quickly here, and be assured how truly I am,

Your faithful loving Father,

Legh Richmond*"

January 6, 1825.

My dear F

^'Your communication is just such as I wish you
often and again to repeat. Let your heart be con-
fidential, and you will ever find mine responsive to
it. * * * * ]yiay no trifles ever

wean your affections from the unspeakably important
subjects of eternity. Idols are bewitching, danger-
ous^things, and steal away the heart from God. The
most lawful things may oecome idols, by fixing an
unlawful degree of affection upon them. One reason
of the diflSiculties with which you meet on the sub-
ject of prayer may be, the not suflSciently looking
by faith unto Christ Essential as prayer is, both as

LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 69

a privilege, an evidence, an instrument of good and a
source of every blessing ; yet it is only the interces-
sory prayer of Christ, that can render our prayers ac-
ceptable and efficacious, and it is only by lively faith
in the Great Intercessor, that we can obtain a heart'
to pray. Thus faith and prayer act in a kind of circle
in our minds, and each produces, (experimentally,)
and is produced, by the aid of the other. I am glad
you like Mr; Bickersteth^s little book on prayer, — all
his publications are good. There are many books as
well as general conversations about religious matters
which, after alU do li'ot bring hoi:ne true religion to
the heart. Religious gossiping is a deceitful thing
and deceives many. How many professors of re-
ligion will utter twenty flippant remarks, pro or con,
upon a preacher, where one will lay his remarks
to his heart. Uow many look more to the vessel than
the excellency of the treasure contained in it. Some
people cannot relish their tea or coffee, unless served
m a delicate cup, with a pretty pattern and a gilt
edge. Let poor dear Charlotte Buchanan^s sudden
call from time to eternity, warn us how needful it is
to "die daily ;" not to trifle with our souls, when
eternity may be so near ; nor to boast of the morrow,
when we know not what a day may bring forth. —
Willy is anxious for your return, he droops at pre-
sent, and wishes to have his dearest friends near him.
* * * I rejoice to find your recent
meditations have opened to your conscience beset-
ting infirmities. Press forward, my child, let them
not gain an ascendancy. Beware of mere senti-
mentalism, of satire, of fastidiousness towards per-
sons and things. Beware of bigotry and prejudice,
of procrastination, of the love of fictions, of dan-

ferous though fascinating poets, &c. * * *
wish you, my love, to attach yourself to visiting the
sick, and conversing usefully with the poor ; to the
instruction of pcMxr children; ioreligiowcortwfon^

70 LETTERI TO HIS CUILDRHT.

ence and conversationf with a few sincere friends ;
and particularly strive to commence and continue
spiritual conversation with our dear Willy.

*' I lately watched the young moon declining in
the western sky — it shone sweetly. Sometimes a
cloud shot across thedisk — sometimes a floating mist
partially obscured it, alternately it was bright again :
it sometimes silvered the edge of the very cloud
that hid it from sight At length the lower horn
touched the horizon, then the upper horn, and then
it wholly disappeared. Venus remained to cheer
the gloom. I said to myself, ^ There is the decline
of my loved boy, and there ijp the star of hope/

Your affeefionate father,

L.' Richmond/'

London^Junej 1825.

Dear F. and dear H.

'^ Between the morning and evening services of
thiBclay, 1 have a leisure hour, in which I feel as if
I should like to sit down and talk with you two. I
miss our early morning exercises much, and this for
the present must be the substitute on^ my part. I
have nothing very particular to recount, only that I
have been to a few places, where I was last summer
with my beloved Wilberforce, and I have indulged
the silent tear as I retraced incidents never again to
recur. At some places, where my friends remem-
ber his visits and conversations, I am asked, ' how
he is/ with interest in their manner, and have to tell
how he has taken his flight to another and a better
world ; and it afiects me greatly so to do. I know
not how it is with me« in regard to that dear boy^s
loss, but I talk less and think more tlian ever about
him. The fortnight preceding, and the one succeed*
ing his death are indelibly graven on my hearths
recollections, and sometimes overposier me in a way

LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREST. 71

of which none of you have any real idea. Some-
times my mind is strengthened, bttt at others weak-
ened by these reflections. I am sometimes com*
forted, at others terrified by these exercises of the
mind. With what liveliness do the scenes of our
northern tour press upon my mind : the lovely Isle
of Bute with all its magificent scenery, the incom-
parable beauties of Loch Lomond, and Loch Lon^
with their hospitable friendships ; the wild loveli-
ness of Inverary^and Loch Awe ; the fine views on
the Firth of Clyde, with the moral and intellectual
characteristics of many a kind friend ; the steam-
boats, the carts, the cjufs^ the mountains all associate
with Atm,and are endured tome beyond expression.
1 linger over the spots We^ visited together, from
Lock Awe to Glasgow, Carlisle, Keswick, Wood-
house, Matlock, &c. to Turvey. I love to think of
our private reading in my little bed-room at Rothsay ;
his first communion at Greenock, and then to con-
nect all with bis closing days. It is my weakness,
my fault, my misfortune, that I cannot express more
of my mind and feelings to you both. Dear, dear

H ~l you are now become the prop and stay of

my declining years, think much of the station in
which God has placed you. My first-born is a dis-
tant wanderer, and God knows when or whether I
shall see him again on earth. My second boy is
taken from me, you are my third, but now my first.

Be such to your two brothers, particularly to L ;

he needs your constant superintending care ; watch
over him, do not leave him to seek unprofitable as-
sociates ; cherish the little germ of hope, which God
has planted in my bosom concerning him^ let your
example influence, and your kind attentions encour-
age him in every good way, and think much of your
own soul. Beware of declensions. — remember the
last words of dear Wilberforce, — ^live up to his ad-

72 LETTERS TO £19 CHILDRBIT.

vice. How my heart yearns over you, and all your
prospects. What are you ? What are you to be,
my loved child 1 Write to me freely*

" And my F also ; are you as much alive to

spiritual things, as when you hastened to the dyin^
bed of dear Willy, — ^as when you wept over IttS
coffin ? My child, dread all decays, and may tke
flame of spiritual piety never grow dim amidst ^
mists of unworthier speculations. Visit the cot-
tases, — forsake not the poor, for your Father's
sake.

'^1 have been this morning where you might
least have expected to find me; but I went not
from curiosity, but from a conscientious wish to
know and judge for myself, viz. to the Roman
Catholic Chapel in Moorfields, to hear high mass.
I was astonished at the decorations, the gorgeous
dresses of the bishop and priests, charmed with the
exquisite beauty o£t he music, disgusted at the cere-
monial mummery of the service, and unconvinced by
the bishop^s eloquent sermon in defence of transub-
stantiation. It was all illusion, delusion, and col-
lusion. The service lasted near four hours. I bless
God more than ever for true Protestantism. 1 shall
hear the Messiah performed to-morrow. Such music
I love, it lifts my soul to heaven. I am sick and
disgusted with common light modern songs, — they
are unfit for Christians. Oh ! what music is my
Willy enjoying in heaven. Shall we all enjoy it
with him ? The question often sinks me in the dust.
My dear, my most dear children I press forward to
the prize of the mark of our high calling in Christ
Jesus. There is an immense gulph to be passed. —
Who is sufficient for these things ?

Say truly kind and pastoral things for me to my
dear people at Turvey. Truly 1 have them in
my heart. — My children all, I kiss you from a

LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 73

distance; believe how much and how tenderly I
love you ! * * *

" P.3. — Monday. — I am just returned from hear-
ing the Messiah, In the two grand chorusses, I
^ thought I could hear my Willy's voice, and it quite
'!: '^^ercame me. Past, present, and future, mingled
', fai^Krange and affecting combination. These feel-
4 W^s are sometinies too much for your poor father.'^

74 RE8IDSNCE AT THS 'MlIirXASITTr

CHAPTER IV.

* A inmn thit is youngs in jemn may be old in honrt, if be h^f€
lost no time.' — Bacon,

It may easily be conceived with what anxiety
Mr. R. would contemplate the removal of his boy&
from the paternal roof, when their age should ren-
der it unavoidable. The difficulty of placing young
persons in suitable situations is greatly increased in
the present day by the numbers who are pressing
into every trade and profession, and by the mod-
ern practice of excluding youth from the master's
family, a practice which may conduce to the com-
fort and convenience of the latter, but which neces-^
sarily exposes the clerk and the apprentice to the
worst temptations, Mr. R. knew perhaps less than
many other parents how to place out his children
to advantage. He was not wise for this wdrldj
and though few had fairer opportunities or friends : ..
more able to advise and help him, he shrunk from*
availing himself of these advantages, to a degree -
which we cannot approve, while we respect his
delicacy and paramount regard to the honour of
religion. He was not the ablest counsellor under
such circumstances, except indeed on one pointy
that the welfare of the soul should be the govern-
ing principle in the selection of a profession. He
gave an unbounded liberty of choice to his chil-
dren, with one exception, an exception which it is
difficult to imagine would not equally be made by -
every Christian parent. The profession of arms,
if not in itself unlawful, is so irreconcilable with

RSSIOENCE AT THE UNIVERSITT. 75

the spirit of a peaceable religion ; and a life of com-
parative idleness or of activity amidst the horrors
of destruction, is so repugnant to the principles and
feelings of a disciple whose Master came not to
destroy but to save men^s lives, that a right-minded
man can scarcely be supposed to admit a prefer-
ence for it. Persons of undoubted piety have been
discovered in camps as well as in peaceful fields,
but it has generally been found that their know-
ledge of God was subsequent to their choice of pro-
fession. The Christian under an actual engagement
in a service may decide ^' to abide in the calling
wherein he is called,^^ and honour God in his voca-
tion ; but this is a widely different determination
from a choice made with the knowledge of peace
and love in Christ Jesus.

One of those events which often inspire a prefer-
ence for a soldier^s life, I mean the show of military
parade, excited this inclination in Mr. Richmond's
younger son. To this choice Mr. R. expressed his
dissent in the strongest terms. ''Any thing but
this," said he, '' any thing but this — the very men-
tiop of a military life fills me with horror ; I cannot
bear to think of a child of mine engaging in scenes
. of bloodshed and destruction. No consideration on
etkrth could extort my consent. It would make me
really miserable."

The following letter to his daughter F is the

best transcript of his thoughts and feelings on this
subject.

"I grant dearest F , you may charge me

with the fault of which you have often been culpa-
ble ; I have no very good reason to assign for delay,
and therefore will rather take my share of blame,
than furnish you with a bad argument, or a bad ex-
ample, in the duty of letter-writing * * J

rejoice in your account of Turvey, a spot that is
j^ways in my mind^s eye, when pot in my sight

75 RESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITT.

Dear loved parochial and domestic village ! Thou
art endeared to me by a thousand considerations,
both as it respects the living and the dead. ^^ When
I foiget thee, let my right hand forget her cunning/*
No succession of time or circumstances has woaned
or ever can wean my heart from the chancel vault.
There is a young triumvirate increasingly endured
to me, one in heaven and two on earth, and their
names thall be recorded together, — Wilberforce,

Henry, and C . Dear boys ! born in the same

village, companions in the same school, partners in
the same recreations, partakers of the same euchar-
istic table, friends in every social pursuit, and dare
I say, heirs of the same glory ? United by the ties
of the same grace on earth, may they share the
same felicity in heaven. I am glad that your medita*
tions have been, of late, deep and important. Pray
that they may continue so. Life is short, eternity
is at hand, banish all needless reserve^ banish levity,
banish dulness, be much with Christ in prayer, and,
I had well nigh added, much with your father in his
study. Cultivate an interior acquaintance with

H— , and do allyou can with L and T — — .

There is something wanting amongst us, whether in
family duet or chorus, as to really improving and
spiritual conversation ;too much worldly bustle, too
much regard to passing events, too much conse-
quent alienation from the one, the onljr thing need-
ful. Without inquiring who is the most in fault, let
each of us strive to resist the evil and cleave to the
mod. .... When I think of my boys and
C— — , 1 bless Godfor village seclusion, and greatly
rejoice that they have been kept at a comparative
distance from the evil communications which cor<>
rupt good manners. The world, even ii) its^ippa-
rently harmless form, is a terrible snare to the young
and uninformed mind. ... I before gave you
my opinion on Sunday evening walksi I have oilea

•^l&StDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 77'

earnestly denounced them to the people, and need

not add a word to you on this head m

There is a subject which often hangs heavy ori^ntj)^

spirits, 1 mean my poor dear T 's inclinatidi.

for a military life. Hating war as I do from my
very heart ; convinced as I am of the inconsistency
of it with real Christianity, and looking on the pro-
fession of arms as irreconcileable with the princi-
ples of the gospel, I should mourn greatly if one
of my boys chose so cruel, and generally speaking,
so profligate a line of life. I could never consent
to it on conscientious grounds, and therefore wish
this bias for the profession of arms to be discour-
aged. I dislike and oppose it with my whole heart.
May God, the God of peace bless you, my much

loved F ;^ive a Christian message of pastoral

love to jny-dear flock; I often think and pray for
themi Love to the boys. You know well how
trulf taid sincerely I am.

Your afiectionate father,

Legh RichmoOT)."

The strongest desire Mr. R. ever expressed with
respect to his children, was, that they might devote
themselves to* the service of the sanctuary. ^^ I
have no concern," he used to say^ " about their
temporal provision, God will take care of that;
but I should itejoice to see every one of rtiy boys,
actively and usefully engaged in the churcfi of

God.'' His son H chose the sacred profession,

to which his father consented, but the necessity of
his removal to the university, haunted him like a
spectre. He passed many anxious days and sleep-
less nights in anticipation of the event ; and at
times he seemed to be in the deepest trouble ; he
talked and wrote continually about the possible
consequences of it The subject seemed to absorb
his thoughts, %tiid depress his spiritsr : *^ What if my'

•*>■

78 RESIDENCt AT THE UNIVERSITT.

boy should fall a victim to associations which hare
blasted the farresl hopes of many a Christian parent.
He may do without learning, but be is ruined body
aod soul if he be not wise unto salvation/^ Sucb
acute distress may appear to some a sort of extrav-
agance, and to others a pitiable dotage. It is true,
feelings of this order require control, but allowance
should be made for the overflowings of parental
anxiety, and the dread of a transition and revolu-
tion of habits not without danger,and aflbrding just
grounds of apprehension. There are occasions in
which it 'is difficult to preserve the mind in due
balance, when not to feel deeply implies a culpable
indifference to the interests of eternity, or at least
a very low estimate of their paramount importance*
Mr. Uichmond, as will appear from subsequent
events, was standing on the verge of eternity ; hi»
health and spirits had been greatly shattered by the
severe family trials through which he had lately
been made !• pass ; and his feelings on all subjects
connocted with religion, were wrought up to a pitch
of acuteness, which rendered unnecessary contatct
v^ith the world almost insupportable. Tiiere need
seldom, however, be any dread of a glow of feeling
that " would consume us ;" it is much more to be
deplored, that men can sustain the ^^ exceeding
weight of things which are eternal," with so little
emotion, and waste their chief energies on those
which endure only for a season and then flee away
for ever.

With respect to our Universities, I am not dis-
posed to join in the unmeasured and ignorant
objurgation, with which they have been assailed by
their enemies, and even by those who owe much
•f their eminence in society to the advantages
derived from them. It is easy to blame and difficult
to improve ; plausible theories may be suggested,
and the rude hand of revolution, under the specioua

BESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITT. 79

name of reform, may proceed to experiments, which
are often mischievous, and always uncertain in their
issue. The question is not what is desirable, but
what is practicable : how little is to be expected
from attempting too much, is observable in the
sirictness of statutes, even to absurd minutiae, com-
pared with the feeble discipline, which corrupt
beings will allow to be enforced. It is indeed
devoutly to be wished, that a more vigilant super-
intendence were exercised over the private habits
of the young n>en, as to the facilities of contracting
debts, and of admision into college after the clos-
ing of the gates, — that something more of the spirit*
of religion were infused into its forms; that (ess
were left to the discretion of" the mad age ;" that
the authority and duty of the tutor should not be
confined to the hours of lecture. Desirable as are
such improvements in college discipline, I am not
prepared to show how they can be made, unless
the minds of men were more deeply iiopressed with
the true end of education, the training a fou) for
eternity: and J shall not indulge in idJc aeclamation
against evils which I may lament, but^ candot cure.
The dangers incident to inexperienced youth at the
University, are confessedly great, but they attach
to all situations of their early career, ancl ar.Q. not
peciiliar to their residence at these noble monu-
ments of ancient piety and munificence. Yet, a
Christian parent, in matriculating his son at College,
will feel increasing responsibility to commend him
to the Spirit of God for protection and guidance,
atid to use every precaution against the evil influ-
ence to which he may be exposed from the corrupt
example of contemporaries, or the too great liberty
allowed to himself. I would suggest the inestimalija
advantages to be obtained from thp help and super-
intendance of a private tutor, of an age to b^ a
companion, and of talents and piety sufficient to

■p. '

80 WTTM TO A tOVKO MAN*

make him a useful guide. Such a one intrusted
with authority to direct his pupil's conduct and
studies, would secure every thing within human
means, which an anxious parent could desire.

The last production of Mr. R.^'s pen was a paper
of warnings and instructions for his son. This
paper was found on his table after his death, and
was OTidcntly the result of his dying meditations.
I deeply regret that it has been lost, and that I
cannot gratify the reader by the valuable hints
which it might have suggested. The subject, how-
ever, is too important to be passed over in silence,
and I will venture to supply the defect by a letter
of my own, written under circumstances not much
dissimilar.

To a young friend on going to College.

Mt dear young friend,

** You request my advice on a subject which
will probably give a direction to your whole life.
I give it you with the more satisfaction, because I
believe you are not one of those who ask counsel
with a previous determination to follow their own
judgment, and who set no value on experience for
which they have not paid the price in their own
mistakes ; but are anxiously looking out for a guide,
and ready t» follow him. After twelve years' res-
idence in one of the Universities, I may fairly be
supposed to know something both of their dangers
and advantages. I am aware of the temptations to
which you will be exposed in yoyr new situation;
yet with respect to myself, I may assert, that they
were ,by no means so great as others have repre-
sented them, — fewer, and less dangerous than the
after trials of manhood, or even those of my boyish
days at school.

** The opportunity you now have of acquurio^

* • •

MATRICULATING AT .O^lt BRIDGE. 81

solid learning, and of laying the foundation of all
that will be useful to you in life, is incalculably
valuable, and it should be your chief concern to
embrace the golden moment with firm and steady
grasp. Accept then, with my best wishes ana
prayers for your welfare, . the result of past obser-
vation at Alma Mater.

" 1. Wherever you are, in or out of the Univer^
sity, much will depend on the regulation of yourself »
We are apt to lay the blame of our indiscretions
and failures on our circumstances, and to suppose
that we should act differently under others influ-
ences ; but this is a great mistake ; for circum-
stances, though 1 admit they have a powerful in-
fluence on our conduct, do not so much form, as
discover our character. Be " Lord of your own
mind,^' and you will rise above outward trials.
Try, then, to understand yowrarc//^-— your strong, and
your weak points.

^^ Begin and end the day with prayer ; but con-
tent not yourself with an indolent or hurried exer-
cise of. devotion without heart or meaning, and a
cursoi^ or irregular glancing at a passage of Scrip-
ture, under an idea of satisfying conscience, or
doing your duty. Consider seriously the chief end
of the appointment, as the prescribed channel of
intercourse with God. Your strength, success, and
preservation from evil, all depend on communion
with him. Every thing will go ^1 or ill with you,
in proportion as you are brought into contact with
the divine Spirit. . In reading the Bible, (I am now
speaking of religion and its practical application to
your heart and conscience, and not of , theology m
a science and profession,) take a few verses, and
meditate and pray over them till you get the spirit
and meaning of them wrought into your own soul.
If you do not understand a passage, you may apply
Ip a comtnentatojr for explanatioQ ; otherwise bi»

83 LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN.

your own expositor, — preach to your own heart, and
feed on the word of God amidst the aspirations of
prayer and praise, and heavenly thoughts and affec-
tions. Examine yourself by it, to obtain conviction
of sin, and to discover your defects and besetments,
—to judge of your progress, and pray for upright-
ness and deep seriousness. Look forward to the
Erobable events of the day, and seek grace and
elp to meet trial, and improve opportunity. Con-
sider that you are entering society with a body of
sin and death, ever liable to impart or receive
injury, and while you carefully guard against the
approaches of evil, you should aim, like your
master, to ''go about doing good." I think an
hour may be well employed in this holy exercise.
At night, a shorter time may suffice; for the^irits
will flag, and the body be wearied. The efncacy
of prayer does not depend on the length of time
employed in acts of devotion : God thinks of mercy,
find not sacrifice, and so must you. Such remarks
are applicable to all persons and situations, but ar6
more especially important to one in your circum-
stances. You are now deprived of your father's
conversation, and the devotional exercises of the
family, and you have need to redouble your dil-
igence in private devotion. Remember, then, that
your first and greatest trial will be in your closet ;>
and if you fail here, all will go wrong with you
throughout the day. If you rob. God, to turn to
Euclid or Euripides, or hurry away to chapel
without private prayer, because you have given
way to sloth, — other motives may stimulate you to
be diligent in business, but you will not long con-
tinue " fervent in spirit, serving the Lord:" and if
his Holy Spirit forsake you, — and he will forsake
you if you grieve him by neglect of the means of
^race, — you will fall into many inconsistencies, and
m the end lose all love for religion, and concern

• -.*.- ' -.am.

k '

'MIATRICULATING AT CAKBRIDOE. 83

for your soul, and* perhaps by your conduct ik*
credit yourself even in the eyes of the world.

*^ It is good habit to keep some subject in mind
for occasional employment, — a promise — a precept
— an attribute of God, on which to meditate m
every vacant moment. There are intervals in the
course of your College duties, when you cannot sit
down to serious studies. An idle moment fumishes
at all times a nidus for a temptation.

^' 2. Be very cautious in the formation of friend-
ships. Your religious and genel'al improvement
will be closely connected with the character of
your associates.

*' You will find me correct in dividing the young
men into two classes ; of which one affects to des-
pise, and the other professes to honour religion.
The former class comprise three sets or parties, all
agreeing to live without God in the world, but
differing in their manners and pursuits. The first
of the three are the men of family and fortune, who
spend their time in amusement,. attending as little
as possible to the studies of the place. For the
most part they are men of profligate habits, thoush
not all equally vicious. These call themselves the
gentlemen. There is another set of young men
who pass by the name of the scamps ; who are not
t>etter disposed than the former, but they have not
the same means of doing mischief to themselves or
others ; they are, however, quite as ignorant, idle,
and thoughtless, with the addition of coarseness
and vulgarity of manners. To neither of these
classes must you approximate, but (to speak acad^
mically) you must cut them all. I am under no
apprehension of your familiarizing yourself with
low company ; but a silk gown, or a gold tuft, — a
wish to form a high connexion, may tempt you to
tolerate what ought to be intolerable to you. At
first you may feel disgust at profane and vicious

84 LETTER TO A tOVMO MAMi >?? •* V

language and manners. Insensibly they will excite
less horror. After a time you will think it enough
to be personally exempt from these ofTences-'-fthen
you may begin to excuse and palliate ; till at length
you break bounds, and assume a conduct, and avow
a creed, repugnant to your judgment, and which
your heart secretly condemns. You will have po
difficulty in avoiding such associates; for, unless

50U seek an introduction, they will not notice you.
!'he third party which pretends to no religion are
those who are called the reading men at Cambridge,
and the quizzes at Oxford. Their diligent applica*
tion to study, and desire of distinction in the uni-
versity, are worthy of your imitation ; for you are
sent to College, not rncrely to get a degree, and
barely escape rejection at last, but to obtain a cred-
itable testimony that you have profited by the
studies of the place : yet, while I commend the
industry of the charactecs alluded to, and their
generally correct conduct, 1 do not hesitate to say,
that their motives and objects are not such as I
could enforce upon you.

'*lt is possible that my advice to you may be
different from that of some who nevertheless agree
with me in principle. I remember it was said to

you by "Don't look at every man not strictly

religious as a wild bear, and a dangerous com-
panion." Certainly it is not a duty to cherish
morose feelings, but rather to cultivate a sweet«
ness of temper, and a courteous behaviour towards
all : and an occasional interchange of visits, with
those who will converse profitably on literary pur-
suits, cannot be objected to. Yet 1 wish to be more
explicit as to the proper degree of intercourse with
those who do not fear God, however creditable and
desirable the acquaintance may be in other respects.
If you were of long standing in religion, you might
venture on many things which you cannot now

'" *
^jBAtRlCULATlNG AT CAMBRIDGE. 85

uttempt with safety. They might even become a
duty. The firemen must scale the burning roof,
while the spectator of the flames had better keep at
a 'distance. You must not try how much poison
your constitution will bear, or risk your souPs health
for the sake of any temporal advantage. The
world — by which 1 mean those who are ignorant of
religion, or whose hearts are not in it, — must ever
he to the true Christian^ a cross^ or a snare ; and

. when it ceases to be the one^ it will invariably become
the other. I cannot approve of whole evenings
passed in company, where it is understood that God
is never to be referred to, and where the least
observation connected with eternity, creates a
silence, if it does not provoke a sneer, an opposition
of sentiment, or a feeling of distaste. To be much

*in society of this kind beyond the demands of duty
or necessity, which you can seldom plead, is surely
no better than constructive treason against our Lord
and Saviour. If you make the experiment, mark
the effect on your own mind. If the tone of re-
ligious feeling 1;^ impaired, if you grow dull and
heartless in devotion, be assured that something is
wrong in your motives, pursuits, and associations.
So long as you agree to live and converse as if the
world were every thing and God nothing, you may
be tolerated, though your professed attachment to
religion be known ; or you may even be respected
for qualities that ire amiable and estimable, and
your society may4iffi>rd satisfaction to literary young
men who would keep you at a distance if you
acted consistently with your profession of a purer
faith and stricter conversation. The old rule,
" noscitur a sociis,'' is a very wise and safe one. —
Compare the conversation of yur new associates,
if you form such, with the discussions you have
heard under the paternal roof; where, though the
subjects were not always strictly religious, yet the

■

80 LETTER TO A YOVWQ UAM

«•»

spirit in which they were treated had a tendency
not only to improve the mind, but in some way or
other to sanctify the heart. Perhaps 1 feel the
more strongly on this subject, partly from having
seen many a hopeful young person entirely ruined
by a friendship formed on merely literary grounds,
and partly because I perceive a gradual breaking
down of old-fashioned distinctions, to the serious
injury of true religion.

" Your father has, I find, earnestly intreated you .
to cast in your lot with those who, by way of re-
proach, are termed the saints. I know more of this
class than he does, who must be in a degree unac-
quainted with university habits and students ; and I
would recommend you not to identify yourself with
asect or party of any kind, without careful discrim-
ination. The religion of the Bible is often a difier**
ent thing from that of its professed advocates ; and
if our hearts be right with God, there will be occa-
sions when we must stand alone. I do not mean to
reflect on the religious body ; for whatever holiness
or truth there is in the world, will be found chiefly
among them; but false brethren have ever crept
unawares into the Church of God, and have done
great injury to sincere and honest members of it ;
and there is always reason to fear that when credit
and interest are promoted by a profession of religion,
some will consent to wear our badge, who are stran*
gers to our principles. Jn this class you will also
^d the sons of truly good men, introduced and no*
ticed on the score of their parent's piety. These
are acquainted with the theory of religion, but their
hearts are far from being influenced by it ; and for-
mer restraints being removed, they are apt to yield
to corrupt inclination ; and if they even keep within
the bounds of decency, (which is not always the case,)
they gradually adopt the manners and habits of the
world Some of higher pretensions to piety, afiect

XATBICULATINO AT CAMBRIDGE. 8^

to despise both the studies and honours of the uni-
versity, and become mere idlers and gossips. They
are ready for disputation, and arrogant in maintain-
ing some peculiar view of their own, to the neglect
of the plain, simple, practical truths of religion. Yoa
need not incur a quarrel in shunning their society.
Hold up the torch of real, spiritual, heart religion,
ajad these birds of the night will flee away and leave
you. You will also meet with a few religionists of
a squeamish fastidious spirit, who cannot tolerate
the defects of less polished, but truly honest and
sincere young men. Their idol is talent, which
seems to men of this order to compensate for the
want of piety, if it does not excuse much that is
wrong in principle and practice. They seldom dis-
cover any vigour, or meaning, or spirituality in their
religious profession ; but dwell much on gentlemanly
behaviour, and a proper compliance with the world.
You must seek your *companions amongst those
who have evidently thrown heart and soul into the
service of 4lieir master, and prefer an honest man
with his blunders and disadvantages, to those who
sparkle with the splendour of superior talent, but
whose morbid sensibilities chill the glow of piety.

'^ 3. I particularly recommend you to decline
breakfast parties ; for even when the conversation
may be interesting and generally improving, there
is a temptation to prolong it unreasonably, and thus
to infringe upon the regular hours and habits of
study.

" 4. When at college I had a great dread of loung-
ers. My rooms being near the tutor^s, I was liable
to be pestered with triflers who came to pass away
half an hour in just doing nothing. To bid them
leave me would have been an act of incivility; to
have looked sour or appeared fidgetty, would have
seemed not less so ; yet repeated interruptions be-
came at last insupportable, and I had recourse to a

.• •

89 LKTTXR TO A XOVSO ItAtf

stratagem which I thought innocent, and which vra9
certainly very successful. I entertained the man of
taste with the discord .of my violincello, and the
man of no taste with a passage from a classic. After
yawning a response or two he soon left me, voted
roe a bote, and sought more congenial society. If
you are hard pushed you may make the experiment^
and I can promise a similar result. Security from
morning interruptions must be obtained at any ex-
pense. Idleness is very contagious, and gossiping
of all kinds is a sad waste of time.

'^ 5. Remember (for it is an invaluable maxim)
that method is the soul of business^ and that steady
perseverance is necessary to your successful cultiva-
tion of knowledge. Let your time be duly portioned
out, and every thing done in its season. — Let each
hour have its allotted employment. — Rise early. —
Keep good hours — ^your health and success both
depend on it. Sitting up late is a very bad habit.
Guard against^nequality and irregularity: if you read
hard for a week, and then idle away whole dajs in
boating and riding,you will make less progress than
persons inferior to yourself in ability, but who are
steady and regular in their application. Nothing
is to be done by fits and starts.

^'.6. You ought not to think of degrading into the
class called the non-reading men^ and content your-^
self with a Pol degree^ under an idle pretence of
getting more general knowledge : aim at some aca-
demical distinction. I dare not hold out to you as
a motive, the love of reputation or the gratification
of pride ; but study night and day to honour God
and religion. It is worth while to labour hard to
have something valuable in the eyes of the world to
lay at the foot of the cross, I have always admired
Selden^s reply, when asked how a man of his attain*
ments could lower himself by superstition (for such
his piety was miscalled) — ^^ You may despise relU

* '^ ^^,

■ARTRICI]rLATIN6 AT CAMBRIDGl^.'.^

"^•r

pom^ but whatever be ray attainments in bumaft
learning, I do count them all but dung and dross in
comparison of the excellency of the knowledge of
Jesus Christ my Lord." Men will value the truth
as they respect those who profess it. You may find
persons who cloak their indolence or their dullness
under a misapplication of some text of Scripture ;
but be assured the most spiritual and really useful
men, if not always possessed of the greatest talent,
are those who have made the most of their oppor-
tunities. No one^s name slumbers in the Tripos ; it
follows him through life, and what he has been at
College, will help or injure his influence in many a
country village. When a young clergyman excites
itttention by a serious application to his duties, it is
a common inquiry among persons who might be
supposed not to trouble themselves about such mat-
ters, What degree did he take? Was he distinguish-
ed at College? and he will rise or sink in their
estimation accordingly. There may be prejudice
and mistake in this, but it carries no small weight to
be able to say, are they philosophers, mathemati-
cians, or linguists ? so am I. Besides, the habit of
application to subj^s not immediately connected
with religion, is a good discipline of the mind,tind
will accustom it to correct and deep thinking oi\ re-
ligion itself. The studies of the university are not,
as some suppose, a mere literay trial of skill, and of
no further use than to fill up a space in human life,
or fit a man for scientific pursuits alone. If you find
the lectures dry or your latin irksome, think of
working for God's glory, and Christ's honour, and it
will infuse a vigour and sweetness into them. I have
heard some good young men complain of the loss of
spirituality and taste for the Bible, and ascribe this
mischief to the absorbing influence of their studies;
but their studies are not to blame, — it is the spirit,
design, and end with which they are undertaken. A

t
i

99^ ' ; LKTT£R TO A roUNO MAST

man may hold, communion with God through any
medium, or in any occupation, if his heart and aim
be right: he may become carnal in the midst of
theological pursuits, and may preserve the utmost
spirituality while wading through the rubbish of the
schools. Remember that it is not your work^ but
your motive^ which will injure or keep alive your
piety

'* You will be required to go to the college chapel
morning and evening, with the exception of seven
or eight times a week when you may exercise your
own discretion as to attendance^ I would advise
you to be always present. The example even of
the religious young men may fail you ; many of
whom regard this regular attendance as a waste ^oC
time. They complain of the rapid and slovenly
way in which the service is performed, and that
there is no devotion in chants and anthems. But
you have nothing to do with the offences of others,
or with modes of worship. It is God's house, God^s
service. Honour both, and you shall not have to
bewail the unprofitableness of prayer under any
circumstances or defects. J enjoy cathedral ser-
vice, — it is {o me truly devotional. Men who dis-
like music may find it less in unison with their
feelings, but before it is denounced as a relic of
popery it should be remembered that the temple
service was still more musical, and our Lord was
there. He would not have sanctioned by his pres-
ence a mode of worship which contained in it any
thing ipjurious to devotion, or inconsistent with a
right frame of spirit in a true worshipper. Go, also,
to chapel in proper time ; I know the colleges allow
their young men to come in when a third of the
service is over, without a mark of absence: a prac-
tice which (with all due submission to masters and
deans) gives me a painful feeling, for it looks as if
chapel attendance was considered as a mere roll-

■ATRICULATINO AT CAMBRID6K. 91

call, and it is not surprising that the juniors should
hurry to chapel from their beds in a disgraceful
dishabille under cover of the gown or the surplice.
At first your motives may be suspected, but con-
sistency in this and all other things will ultimately
procure respect.

"7. Never think any time mis-spent which is
employed in the service and presence of God, Your
attendance at St. Mary^s though expected, is not
exacted. I have been sorry to hear some young
men of high pretensions to religion speak very con-
temptuously of University sermons, and excuse
their neglect of attending them on the ground of
unprofitableness. Many admirable discourses for
head and heart are delivered at the church, and it
is a want of sense to compare a University pulpit
with that of a parish. Sermons are much improved
in doctrine and application since my day, yet even
then I seldom heard a discourse from which 1 could
not gain something useful, either in the elucidation
of the text, or by inference, and use of the preacher ^s
material. But whatever be the defect of a sermon,
recollect who has set you the example of honouring
the appointment of lawful authority in church and
state, and ^'fulfilling all righteousness.^' I would
have you affiliate yourself to the habits, usases,
studies, and worship of a university man, and to
cultivate a spirit of modesty, regularity, order,
humility, and submission ; as the prime duty and
greatest ornament of a young man \n statu pupillari^
whose province it is to learn and not to teach.

'' 8. You wish me to sketch out a plan of study,
and an orderly arrangement of your time. Much
depends on college appointments ; but leaving you
to improve or alter in reference to them, I will
comply with your request, observing that it is more
easy for me to dictate, than for you to execute.
You have need to pray for firmness and resolution ;

^ LETTER TO A TOUMG MAST

since any relaxation or breach on your part, except
in cases of imperious necessity, will leave you re-
solving and re-resolving, but never attaining to any
eminence. I suppose the chapel service at eight in
the morning and six in the evening, hall at four,
lecture at ten, with some other college exercise
which you must arrange as you can, the amount of
time will be the same. Be always at your private
devotions at six in the morning. I need not repeat
what I have already said on this subject, except it
be again to urge you, on no account to proceed to
business, till you have sought help from God. If
you be not inflexibly steady and regular on this
point, you will lose the spirit of religion, and retain
only the dregs of form, amidst gods and goddesses,
cubes and squares, and triangles^ and all the multi-
tudinous ideas which are poured into your mind.
Devote the next hour to Theology ; I will give you
the first year to get an acquaintance with the
Hebrew Bible and Greek Testament, till you can
read both with as much ease as the English version.
You will need no other helps than Buxtorfl'^s small
l(^con, and SchleOener^s two volumes for the
'CMtament. You a^e tolerably ready with the
^fammar of each langaage, or I should have added
Simons^s grammar for the Hebrew. The very few
chapters in Chaldee will be easily mastered with
Buxtorff^s larger grammar and lexicon. Use and
observation will supply a more critical knowledge
of these languages without any other assistance.
Employ the second year with Scott, for a further
acquaintance with the Scriptures. I might point
out more able expositors on detached portions, but
you will find in him a good compilation from more
extensive works. You need not perplex yourself
with too many expositors. It would be a very
heavy imposition to wade through all the trash and
prosings which have been appended to divinity.

MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 93

Difficulties may sometimes be cleared up by Chro-
nology, Geography, and Parallelisms, but in most
cases the Bible is its own best interpreter. For
the same hour in the third year, read Hartwell
Home. This is an invaluable book for a young
man, and you must not lay him aside till you have
fully digested his admirable compilations, to guide
you in more discursive reading hereafter. College
preparations will sufficiently embrace the subject
of evidences. Let me seriously caution you against
a spirit of curious metaphysical inquiry on those
parts of theology, which are more fit for age and
experience, if indeed they are ever safe, or profit-
able, or intelligible. The arrogant dogmatism of
some religionists is tolerable, their presumption
full of danger, and their spirit and temper most
unchristian. On many points it is best to say with
Leighton, ^'Here I choose rather to stand on the
shore, and in the survey of God ^s judgments exclaim,
^ Oh the depthff,^ than venture out upon the fathom-
less abyss, from which I may never return." The
present is a childish dispensatiiCMi, in which we must
DO ^content to know little, jjnij strive to do mucHt
During the remaining half yeaf of your academical
residence, spencf an hour each day in pulpit coni.i
position. I hope you do not intend to be a copyist,
or one of Dr. Trusler^s disciples. Enrich your
sermons to the utmost with the ideas of others, ^i

wrobght into yourrown mind, but never transcribe^ - ^
I am not instructing you how to preach, but how
to prepare materials, or I should say many things
in relation to the ministry. Get a Bible interleaved,
and note down all you hear or read relating to the
more important texts. ' I be^an to do this at an
early ase, and my preaching bible now contains a
mass of references tq authors, treatises, commenta-
tors, and single sermons, on most important ques<»
tions f so that half my work is done before I begia

94 LETTER TO A TOUKO MAN

to compose. My tools are at hand, and I have no
need to hunt for them. You will find some useful
bints in Claude^s £ssay on the frame-work of a
sermon, and in the '^ Horae Homileticae.^^ the pro-
duction of the best skeleton-maker in the world.
Yet remember an old piece of advice, — '' Nullius
addictus in verba magistri.^' Imitate no one, but
be yourself. Your owiTclothes will fit you the best.
Imitators are apt to copy defects as well as beauties,
and thus make themselves ridiculous ; use your
own manner and style, that you may be sincere
and natural. If you are industrious you will not
hereafter have to learn when you are required to
teach. Out of the remainder of the day, take six
hours for your college exercises ; and try to be
iteady, neat, accurate, and eminent in every thing.
You will now have spent eight hours in close appli*
cation ; never exceed them. You may turn to
music, which is a great refreshment of the spirits,
—to conversation or letter-writing, or whatever
requires no effort of mind. Never be out of your
room after ten at ni£bt, and spend half an hour in
devotional exercise^TiJfcie you retire to bed. I
shall not repeat what I have said on the subftet of
prayer, but let me add one caption. You will
sometimes have to lament great failures ; do not
on such occasions take refuge in loose antinomiatt
notions, nor yet give way to recklessness and dies-
pondency ; if God knows you ai# honest, and «6iv-
ing in all things to glorify him, though you fall seven
times a day he will raise you up again. Never
resolve to do nothing because you have not done
every thing; nor indeed resolve at all, but cast
your troubles on Christ, and set to work again with
more diligence, caution, and dependence.

^1 have said nothing of modern literature ; yon
are already pretty well acquainted with it, and. if
vou can find an hour for lighter reading, which

•

MATRICULATIMQ AT CAMBRIDGE. 95

does not fatigue you, it may be well (6 enlarge
your present stock ; but not to the neglect oF other
things ; because in vacations you may profitably
spend some time upon the historians and English
poets. I would have you to attend, in turn, the public
lectures on anatomy, chemistry, &c. ; — you will not*
be able to read in private on these subjects, but
you may get a general knowledge of them, which
will both improve and amuse you. The divinity
lecture 1 advise you to postpone till you have
finished the course of reading on that subject which
I have marked out for you. There is one part of
my sketch on which I have not been sufliiciently
explicit ; 1 mean the exercise which is indispensa-
bly necessary to health. I have scarcely ever had
a pupil to whom in this respect I did not seem to
be another Cassandra, whose predictions no one
would believe. I hope you will be an oxception.
To read yourself blind, deaf, stupid, and nervous,
is really a great folly, and kind of suicide. There
have been many sad examples of complete failure
amongst students, through neglect of exercise,
rather than from over-ia||Kal exertion. Always
take exercise in the best part of the day, and at
three periods,— #wo half-hours by yourself, and two
hours with some agreeable companion, with whom
the conversation may be interesting ; kindred pur-
suits will furnish you with abundant materials.

*9. Avoid all jwine parties, or if circumstancai
seem to make an occasional visit in this way neces-
sary, firmly adhere to some rule as to quantity. I
never took more than two glasses, and this deter-
mination saved me much trouble and temptation.
Acquaintances formed at these parties are transi-
tory, and companions will soon be dispersed to be
heard of no more. A few endeared intimacies are
likely to be more durable and valuable.

d6 SUfiJECtS OiflTTEl) m

'^ 10. The university, which brings together so
great a variety of persons, is a ffood school for the
study of character ; avail yourself of it ; by the de-
fects of others learn to correct your own, and by
their virtues improve yourself. You will seldom
find a person who does not excel you in something :
leave him to talk on his favourite subject, that you
may profit by his superiority.

*' 11. With respect to your vacations, I shall only
now throw out one hint ; which is, that these must

T> be equally busy periods, if you aspire to academical

honours. You will, indeed, be expected to relax
occasionally in family parties ; still you must un-
ceasingly pursue your object, and attend to littl^
else. Get up your college subjects for the next
term ; you cannot otherwise keep pace with the
lectures.

^, *' 12. Whatever you read, always keep in mind

the great truths of the Bible ; fact and obiServation
will strengthen and confirm them.

"13. Never converse about religion, but in the
spirit of religion ; — ^be earnest,spiritual,[and serious ;
jokes and tales, and abiurd associations, produce
levity of mind, and even hypocrisy ; be cheerful,
but not light. ''

" 14. You may start at the amount of what I
have stated, but 1 know from experience that 1

> have proposed nothing which may not be achieved

by steady perseverance. Throw your whole soul,

• my dear , into a preparation for a useful,

honorable, and serviceable life, in the'most glorious
of all employments, the office and work of the
ministry. That God may give you grace, and
health, and strength, to become a workman that
needeth not to be ashamed, is the earnest prayer of

♦ Your afiectionate and faithful friend."

■ tf

MR. l&ICHMOND^S FIMIf OJ EDtJCATION. 97

I must apologize to the reader fox detaining bim
8p ^lojQg from the more immediate subject of the
Family Portraiture. My excuse must be the hope
that this letter of my own may fall into the hands.of
sooie studeat of the University, and furnish him with
useful hints to regulate his conduct and studies. I
am satisfied Ibat my sentiments would be found in
unison .with my friend^s, had be lived to complete
his own' valuable directions in his son Henry.

In surveying the variety *of circumstances and
Retails connected with Mr. R/s plan of education,
St Hi^ms to me that two points may be added with
' eudfi&Uge.

' It b)i.3 often been lamented that children and
* youn^ ftoople receive so little benefit from public
instruction. Mr. Richmond did indeed teach his
dhildren to pray and read the scriptures ; he wrote
a form of prayer for the use of each of them, until
they were able to approach a mercy-seat with the
expression of their own thoughts and desires. Thejr
had the benefit of his family exercises and conver-
sations, and he kept his eye on their behaviour at
church : but this is not all that is needful ; they
should frequently be examined as to what they
hear, and be required to give an account of every
sermon; receiving reproof or condemnation as
they appear to have been negligent or attentive.

^^ It is important also to accustom children to
• separate a part of their pocket money for charit-
able purposes, and to act, in their sympathy with
the necessitous, on plan and system. Mr. R. was
himself hospitable and benevolent ; he contributed
largely from bis slender means, to the wants of bis
poor parishioners, and he inculcated on his family
the duty of unremitting attention to distress of
every kind. But children should be trained to
seek out proper objects, and learn to relieve them
from their own means, and by the sacrifice of their

98 TBK RESULT.

own gratifications. What portion of our goods
ought to be separated for the poor is not determined
in the scriptures ; the only definite rule thete laid
down, is, *^ According as God has prospered him,
80 let every man give as he is disposed in his heart/^
Children, as well as grown people, should be
allowed opportunity to exercise dimetiop, and '
evidence the sincerity of principle : we ctigilot pre-
scribe any fixed amount, which must vary according
to the circumstances of different persons; stilJ,
however, this labour of love ought to be regulated
by some definite principle.

From the foregoing detail of Mr. R.'s laborious
and conscientious care of his family, it is natural to
ask what was the result. Delicacy and propriety
forbid me to speak of the living, though I might
there appeal to facts which confirm the truth of that
gracious promise, " Train up a child in the way in
which he should go, and when he is old he shall not
depart from it."

I shall', however, now endeavour to fulfil Mr.
R.*s own intentions, by recording the deaths of bit
children who died in the faith, and are gone to
their rest and peace in Christ Jesus.

if .

• *

UFS OF NUOENT aiOBMOIID. 99

* •• • CHAPTER V.

The tftorm that wrecks the wintry tky
No more disturbs their deep repose.
Than summer's evening latest sigh
That 4liutA the rose.

Jfifntgomery.

Samuel Nugent Leoh, the eldest son of Mr.
ftichmohd, was born at firading in the IsIq of
Wight, June 18, 1798.

From hiB birth to the hour of his death he was
the child of many prayers to God, for life and sal-
vation through a crucified Redeemer.

" My responsibilities,^^ said Mr. R. " are greatly
vncrsased by the birth of a son, and 1 have ne^ of
wisdom to preserve this loan of the Lord, and
train up an immortal soul for heaven.^'

The views of a Christian parent concerning his
offspring are not 'bounded by time, nor his hopes
and wishes limited to a present provision. Our
heavenly Father knoweth our wants. We must
seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness,
and all other things will be supplied as far as is
needful to our welfare.

The first paper found amongst Mr. R.'s memo-
randa relating «to his son Nugent, is a letter •
addressed to the sponsors on the occasion of his
inlwt^s reception into the company of believers by
the sacrament of baptism. The selection of these
parties » often a delicate and a difficult duty to re-
ligious parents. The usages of society direct ofir

100 u» dv mjannt ricsmohi).

view towards kinsfolk and intimate friends, and the
practice is natural and proper when such can be
found possessing a deep sense of the responsibilities
of their engagement. But to be swayed principally
by relationship or interest in this appointment, is
inconsistent with Christian integrity, and is, in fact
" honouring man more than God," The church
supposes sponsors to be persons of real piety, a
company of the faithful who agree '^ as touching
what they shall ask of God in Christ's name" on
behalf of the infant. They are provided as spirit-
ual trustees to take care that the child be virtuously
brought up, and they engage for the fulfilment of
conditions, without which, baptism, like the Lord's
Supper, is not available for any benefit. The grace
of baptism is not promised to unbelievers, and there
are many who are sucha^ to this ac^ though the term
may not in general be applicable to them» The
rite is regarded by some merely as a compliance
with the forms of religion, and by others as confer-
ring a title to covenant privileges, rather than as
conununicating any actual benefit. But the church
of England, and I may add, all the reformed
churches, define this sacrament to be an ^^ outward
and visible si^n of an inward and spiritual grace ;
ordained by Christ himself, as a means whereby we
receive the same, and a pledge to assure us thereofc"
To maintain that the right administration, inde-
pendent of the right reception, of an: ordinance, is
effectual, would be to sanction the errors of Popery ;
and it would be extravagant to assert that all bap*
tized persons are regenerate, since the fact is pal-
pably against such an assumptiw. Whetherwe
say with Arminius, that the grace of baptism. Ins
been lost, or with John Calvin, nullified^ byilie
non-fulfilments of engagements ;-^whether by the
terms regeneration, renovation, or conversion be
meant, the return, the confirmation, or the original

SPONSORSHtP. 101

impartation of a divine influence, (the phrase mat-
ters not,) it is most evident that those who do not
bring forth the fruits of the Spirit are not " par-
takers of an inward and spiritual grace ;" and it
becomes the ministers of religion to exhort such
persons to pray, and seek for that change of nature
without which no man can enter into the kingdom
of heaven. This view of the subject secures every
practical and useful purpose, and it would be more
advantageous to men's souls to contend earnestly
for the faith once delivered to the saints, than to
sUive about words to no profit.

Christian parents and sponsors would do well to
consider whether their own ignorance, and unbelief,
as it respects this solemn ordinance, may not have
provoked God to withhold the blessing promised
"to us and to our children." We know that under
the law, the child was cut off who " had broken the
covenant," only by the contempt or neglect of cir-
cumcision on the part of his sinful parents ; and
why may not the hypocrisy of sponsors in the per-
fornrance of a Christian rite be the cause gf its
almost general inefficacy ?

It is an argument of no little weight in fovour of
sponsorship, that this appendage to Christian bap-
tism has been sanctioned by high antiquity. It is
not a novelty of modern times. It universally ob-
tained in the Jewish church, and was continued in
the church of Christ to the sixteenth century ; its
rejection, together with that of the baptism of in-
fants, originated with the enthusiasts of Munster.
I repeat the remark, sponsorship tvas associated
with baptism in; ihe Jewish church, and unless in
the application* of ^ rite long "practised to a new
dispensation, the concomitSHits of that rite, "thd
answer of a good conscience,^ by and for others
were repealed, (and we have no proof nor reason
to suppose jther were repealed,) — ^the disciples, as

'^ 10*

lOS SPONI^BSHIP.

Jews, could not interpret their commission, but in
connexion with their early associations . and the
constant practice of their nation.

If this argument does not so firmly establish the
use or sponsorship as to invalidate baptism without
it, (which neither we nor the foreign churches main-
tain,) it is surely sufficient to rescue the custom
from the ignorant contempt with which it is too
often treated.

It will be seen by the following letter, that Mr.
R.^B sentiments were in unison with what has just
been stated, on this interesting appendage to Chris-
tian baptism.

" To the worthy God-father and God-mother of
Samuel Nugent Legh Richmond.

" Suffer the anxious feelings of a father to plead
an apology for addressing, petitioning, and admon-
ishing you on a subject so near, so dear to his
heart, as the future welfare of an infant child : I
need not to remind you, that the institution of
sponsors at the baptism of every young child, is a
pious precaution of the church, intended to provide
for, and ensure the religious education of its mem-
bers. With regard to the natural parents of the
child, they are considered as already engaged under
such strict bonds, both by nature and religion, to
take care of his spiritual welfare, that the church
does not suppose that she can lay them under any
greater ; but still makes a provision, that if not-
withstanding these obligations, the parents should
be negligent, or if it should please God to take
tbem to hinajself during the infancy of their cbil-
4roDY there may yet be others who stand solemn^
ptodlg^ before God and bis church, to see that
4Uob infants are not without instruction in conse-
fl^^ace of such carelessness or untiioely death ef

LETTER TO SPONSORS* 103

their parents. Hence it follows, that a charge of
the most serious and important nature is under-
taken by the spiritual parents or sponsors, who are
therefore called, Fathers and Mothers in God ; and
in all matters which concern the godly instruction,
Christian principles, and progress in piety of their
God-children, they do most assuredly and unequiv-
ocally become answerable for their faith and prac-
tice, so far as human vigilance and endeavours are
concerned. True it is, if they have the satisfaction
of observing that the natural parents zealously,
piously, and unremittingly superintend the Christian
education of their infant charge, much of their own
attentions^are Tendered unnecessary ; — still, howev-
er,! their own responsibility remains unaltered by
any circumstance from the hour of baptism to the
years of discretion and understanding, and it is in-
cumbent on them to see and know that all things
are provided, and nothing omitted which is condu-
cive to the soul's health of their children in God.

'' Having thus stated my ideas of the indispensa-
ble duties of God-fathers and God-mothers in gen-
eral, I am naturally led to make the immediate ap-
plication to the present case. I hope and trust that
myself and my dear Mary are too deeply impressed
with a sense of our duty, (exclusive of parental
affection,) to omit any thing which may tend to the
Christian instruction of our young ones. If, there-
fore, it should please the Almighty to spare us life
and health, I shall look forward writh increasing
pleasure to the prospect of our child^s being so
educated, that even those who stand solemnly
pledged on the subject, shall have little else to do
than to observe, examine, and approve. At least,
1 pray, that under God's blessing on our endeav*
ours, it may be so ;-^but, should our infant be
deprived of parental solicitude and attention through
death, or dej^ity of mind or body, on you, mf^

lOi LETTEE TO SPONSORS.

dear and much respected friends, it will rest to pro-
vide all that in your name has been vowed, prom-
ised, and professed for him. In such an event, I in-
treat that no pains may be spared to train up my
little infant in the love and fear of God, in the faith
of the Redeemer, and grateful love to him, and with
a firm reliance on the assistance of the Holy Spirit.
Let the Scriptures, and not the common-place
morality of the times, be made the ground-work
of his conduct, his principles, and his future hopes ;
tejach him that true charity is the offspring of Chris-
tian faith, and that heavenly hope t^an alone spring
from their united dominion over his heart. With
such a foundation he will learn to be thankful and
contented in every condition of life, and under
every dispensation of providence. Let him be so
fortified with the true armour of the Christian, that
the shafts of that horrid and specious monster infi-
delity may ever be repelled with humble confidence
and just indignation.

" Teach him to know that although the gospel
gives no encouragement, no, even the least hope, to
morality without faith, yet that faith without works
is dead.

" That notwithstanding our most punctual obe-
dience to the commandments of the law, we are
still unprofitable servants ; (the merits of the Sav-
iour, not our own merits, rendering us acceptable to
God ;) yet that the fruits of the Spirit are to be seen
in practical activity in promoting the good of others,
as well as in the purification of ourselves. Let this,
and every other Christian principle be engrafted on
his heart, gradually, and in due progress, with the
advancement of his understanding ; so shall your
weighty duties be fulfilled, and my heart be at ease.

^' Should the boy ^s life and my own be spared, it
will be my delight to endeavour to make him what
I consider the first of characters, — a real Christian.

REMARKS air TUKMINISTRT* 10$

** With respect to all other parts of educatioovit
is foreign to the purpose of this address*, which iff
solely made on the subject of the baptismal vow^
accompanied by a fond father's comment, explaiift-
tions and wishes. My present fears are not lest he
should be poor and unlearned in what the world
calls wisdom and accomplishment ; all must proq^er
in the end, if he be but rich in good works, and
wise unto salvation. I conclude, therefore, with a
blessing upon you all ; and if this epistle be of a
more serious (and to you I will not add tedious)
description than you are accustomed to peruscrthe
best apology to be made for it is that it comes froip
a parish priest, an affectionate father, and

Your faithful brother-in-law and nephew,

L. R.''

' It was Mr. R.'s earnest desire, that his first-bom
child should be a minister of the Lord, and a ser-*
vant of the sanctuary ; his son's course of education
was conducted with this view, both while he con-
tinued at Brading, and on his subsequent removaTto
Turvey.

There was nothing censurable in Mr. R.'s wishefir
for his son's introduction to the ministry ; but con-
sidering the peculiar character and requirements of
a minister of the gospel, it may be doubted whether
it would not be more consistent that the designation
of a young person to that sacred profession, should
follow, rather than precede, a discovery of fitness
for it. I am not here speaking of the awful prof-
anation of making a boy a clergyman because he
shews an incapacity for other situations, or with a
view to some worldly advancement, or for the sake
of literary respectability and- enjoyment; such
motives and practices cannot be too strongly depre-
cated : is it not to bring the lame, and the blind
into the temple, and to offer money tor the gift ot

106 REIURKS ON TPE ICINIISTItT.

pod? in such, God can have no pleasure, neither
will He accept an offering at their hand. Mai. i. 2,
l2. fiut I am adverting to an error, not) uncom-
mon even among religious parents, of selecting the
future occupation of the ministry for their children
on the general grounds of correct conduct and
amiable dispositions. God has taken into his own
hands the work of the sanctuary ; when He calls
and separates by his Spirit, we may co-operate with
Hif purposes, and supply materials and tools for
His workmen ; but it is seldom desirable to antici-
pate the divine will on this head, or forget that
there must be, not only a real conversion of heart
to God, but a peculiar aptness for the work, to jus-
tify an entrance in the sacred calling.

Such was Mr. R.'s judgment in after-life ; and
his tender mind sometimes reverted to his disap-
pointment in poor Nugent's delinquencies, as a
rebuke for his presumption.

It appears that Mr. R. early adopted the practice
of corresponding with his family ; and I present to
the reader a letter to Nugent, as a pleasing speci-
men of his happy manner of addressing his chil-
dren.

My dear little boy,

*^You cannot think how glad I was to see your
letter; so glad that it made me weep: if you knew
how dearly I'love you, I am sure you would dearly
love me; and if you knew how dearly God loves
ypu, you would love Himalso. Never forget God,
for he is always thinking about you ; do you not see
bow good He is to you, in giving yc^u a papa and
mamma, and sisters, and friends, and a house to
live in, and food, and so many other good things.

'^ I preached a sermon last Sunday to some hun-
dreds of little children, and you can hardly think
how well they behaved, and how silently and

NUGENT^S REMOVAL TO SCHOOL. 10?

closely they attended to what they heard. Mnny,,
of them when they returned home, wrote down
what they heard from me at church : when will you
do so, my dear Nugent? I hope you get your lesson

well for Mr D ; how kind he is to teach you !—

I hope you pray for me every day ; I often pray
for you, and God will hear both you and me, if we
pray with our whole hearts. When you have read
this letter, you must go and kiss M. and F^ and H. .
and tell them I bid you do so for me, because I am
ikr away, and cannot give them myself a prool..
of my affection for them.

**My Nugent, you are the eldest ; if you are a .
good child, they may follow your example, and if
you are a bad boy, it will teach them to be sinful ;
and that will make God very angry, and me very
unhappy. You are now every day growing older,
and you ought to grow wiser and better, and then
you will be a comfort to us all, and I shall rejoice
and^praise. I wish you to-morrow morning to read
the "lOth chapter of St. Mark, and you will see how
Jesus Christ loved little children, and how he took
them up in his arms and blessed them. I hope hd
will bless you, and then you will go to Heaven when
you die ; but without a blessing from Christ yo0
never can go there.* 1 trust I shall see you again
soon. You must pray to God to bring me back in
health and safety. I have written to you as long
a letter as perhaps you will like to read : one thing-
only 1 will add, that

I am your true loving papa,

« ■

For some years Nugent was educated at home ;
being seldom absent from his Father^s eye : eom-

E anions be had none, for Mr. R. was afraid of
rin^ng his son in contact with any associations
t)ut of his own family. It may be doubted bow far

^ ' IQt ' \ ,' ^Oa£NT SEUT TO SKA.

■

il was wise tp coofine a ho^ to bis own resources
for amiiseiBeat ; for at this time Mr. R. had not
provided the philosophical apparatus, by which be
afterwiiidft.st^lied bis children with full employ,
ment in their leisure hours : certainly the mture
transition 'from these restraints to the almost un-
bouaded fri^edom of association at Bcbool, proved

. i&jurious to Nugent.

.. ' As Mr. R's public engagements increased, be

. '..•'.'ilBtod it necessary to remove his son to other super-

'. .'• ^^ wjt^dance ; and he placed him under the care of

.. ; , ■ >•>!>■ ■; in this situation Nugent attached himself to

• *" ; a dwoopanion of bad principles and incorrect con-

* duct, who in the end succeeded in perverting the
victim of his confidence. It became necessary to
remove the bad example from the family, and at
last, though with great reluctance and bitter disap-
pointment, Mr. 11. consented to the advice of bis
friends, and placed his son in a merchant vessel. —
All hopes of the ministry were abandoned ; and
Nugent, now a wanderer in the wide world, had to
make his own way in life. Many affecting circum-
stances relating to this exile from his father^s house,
have been already detailed in Mr. R's own memoirs,
and I am obliged to forego their introduction in the
present narrative.
The repetition of such details, are not, however,

' essential to my purpose ; which is not so much to
gratify curiosity, as to shew the great advantage of
a religious education, amidst the most discourag-
ing and distressing disappointments ; and that the
prOBHses of eventual success, under all the opposi-
tions of a fallen nature, and the worst temptations
to evil, will ultimately reward the faithful and consci-
entious discharge of our duty towards our children.
I^r* R* gave his son, on his departure from this
country, a Bible, and a paper of admonitions and
uistxairaonB for his conduct Amidst all his irregu-

NU<»KNT SENT TO 81^ -<^^ - .IQt

laritieB, Nugent discovered a grateful and {^ectign-
ate temper. His errors were evidently • those p£« .
thoughtless and yielding disposition, ratb^x^t^an.df
a deep-roo,ted and vicious propensity : lA i^ncerely
loved bis father, and he preserved, wiih' a kind of
religious veneration, these testimomescof regard ^
never losing them, though twice shipwrecked, and *
though all the other little property that be had. \
realized was then swept away. ' -*?

extracts from those of bis son will serve strongly to
illustrate the good effects of past instructions. It
never should be forgotten that there is a moral influ-
ence in Christian principles, which keeps evil within
certain bounds, even when those principles have
not penetrated the heart ; and bad as unconverted
persons often appear, amidst all the pains taken
with them, they would probably be much worse with-
out the unseen restraint which thus operates within
them.

A lodgment of truth once made in the mind, can-
not afterwards be wholly eradicated. Conviction
often returns, and at last, as in the present instance,
produces a saving change of heart and life. Nugent
was not long on the mighty deep before he acknow-
ledged the propriety of his removal from home, and
he began deeply to repent of the follies which ren-
dered it necessary.

My dear Father and Mothiil,

" I am now, as it may be said, at the other end j^lR-
the world, but still 1 often think of you andTurvejr ;
I often reflect on my past conduct, and bittevJv'^-
wail my folly : if] had not done what I oi »t

to have done, I might now be resting coio

11 '

IKI OCCORRIVCES in INDIA, WITH

ander your roof, instead or having to bear very great
hardships by ni^ht and by day : but { will not com*
plain of my chastisement, and have indeed far greater
comforts than I deserve.

•' Papa, I am far away, but I often think of you,
and of my dear mother, to whom I have occasioned
bitter sorrows. Alas ! I fear my offences can never
be forgiven.

*^ I am satisfied you acted wisely in sending roe
from home, sweet home I The maxims and rules
you gave me, 1 cherish and keep by me.

«^ Oh ! how I look back on the hopes and fears,
alarms and anxieties of my dear parents ; if God
permits me ever to see them again, 1 hope it will be
under different circumstances and feelings. May
He preserve me amidst the winds and waves.
1 am still your affectionate son.

There was something so ingenuous and relenting
in this his first letter, that Mr. R. anticipated the re*
turn of his son from the voyage with all that strength
of affection which issued from his loving tender heart
on all occasions. Ue longed to embrace the poor
wanderer, and mingle his tears with those of his
child, saying ; ** This my son was dead and is alive
again, was lost and is found : but these fond hopes
were disappointed. Nugent left the vessel in which
he sailed, in opposition to the remonstrances of the
Captain, to whom he was entrusted with directions
to bring him back to England. Mr. R. had only
intended to fry the effect of absence and employ*
ment, in reclaiming his son, and not to fix him for
ever in the perilous occupation of a sea-faring life»
The Arniston proceeded on her voyage without him,
and he had soon reason to regret his indiscretion
(for such it was, though Uod meant it for good,)
viVktk ho found himself cast on the world without

•;*

LETTERS TO BIS PARENTS. Ill

means oriivclihood, without firiends, or even an ac»
quaintance who could advise and serve him : a youth
of only seventeen years of asre, and separated rroih
all who felt any interest in his welfare. In this des«
olate and almost hopeless state, he addressed the
following letter to the senior chaplain of Ceylon.

Reverend Sir,

«* There are many occasions in life when it is
easier to write than to speak, particularly when we
are obliged to speak of ourselves. Your known con-
descension and kindness encourages me to hope you
will psfrdon my present intrusion.

** It is proper 1 should acknowledge that my own
thoughtlessness and inconsiderate conduct, and a ne-
elect of the instructions of an excellent father, have
been the cause of my present misfortunes. 1 ran
away from school; and spent my time in dissipation
with the young fnrmers of my neighbourhood ; which
gave my poor father great uneasiness and many a
miserable hour ; and Ending me unwilling to settlo
to any useful employment, he sent me to sea as a last
resource, in hopes that lime and reflection, and ex*

1>erience of the world, might change my habits, and
ead me to a proper sense of my errors. With the
reluctant consent of both my parents, I came out in
the Arnislon, under the charge of Captain Simpson,
whose uniform kindness to me I gratefully remem*
ber. He refused to give me permission to stay in
India, and 1 withdrew from his ship with u view to
profit by the opportunity, and to sec Calcutta and
other parts and places before 1 returned to Englandl/ . \,
In this expectation 1 have been disappointed, and <• -
knowing the dislike of my parents to my preseift '0 .
occupation, 1 have abandoned further thoughts of
continuing in it, at least till I can learn their pleasure
to my future destiny. I humbly throw myself oo

♦♦

Iji2 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH

your kindness, and intreatyou to take me under your
protection and guidance : for which I hope to tes-
tify the gratitude of my heart by conducting myself
with diligence and propriety. I have the honour to
remain, with the greatest respect,

Your obedient servant,

N. R.»'

Self-will is a principal source of mischief to
^ young people; submission and deference to age
and experience, a prime virtue to be cultivated by
them. To follow his own inclination and leave
the Arniston, was a culpable thoughtlessness; nor
can it be justified or excused, though the conse-
quences were advantageous. There is, however,
much to approve in Nugent's frank and open avow-
al of his errors ; he might have concealed them ;
a more subtle mind would have been tempted to
do so ; but simplicity is always the best policy ; it
disarms hostility, and disposes men to overlook the
past, by the security which feeems to be given of
future good conduct ; it relieves the parties from a
train of evils and embarrassments, and temptations
to new offences which will meet them at every
step. To an honourable mind it is ever painful
to appear in false colours : the fear of disclosure
and consequent loss, perhaps, of our friends, will
always fill us with restlessness and apprehension.
An offender had better trust God with his case,
than turn for deliverance to the wretched expe-
dients which his own pride and folly might suggest
This appeal to a stranger, " I have been an ofiend-
ing wanderer, and therefore take me under your
protection,'' may seem to some to be little con-
'" sistent with prudence ; but Nugent could not have .
acted more wisely, if his letter had been written
under the influence of selfish calculation, instead

LETTERS TO BLS PARENTS. ItS

of having been, as it appears to me, the result of
totegrity.

It is also evident, from the last two letters, that
Mr. Richmond\s care and instructions were not
even now without their use: there was clearly an
influence in operation, and a turning to right prin-
ciples and feelings on the part of Nugent, which, if
too weak to stem the torrent of natural corruption,
was doing much to control evil, and prepare his
mind for its subjugation. Indeed, the full effect of
religious education is seldom seen, until a young
person has had an opportunity of making an exper-
iment on the principles which he has been taught;
however pleasing the piety of children, it can never
be relied on : it must first stand the lest of solitary
exposure to adverse circumstances. The family is
the nursery of tender plants, of whose growth and
fruit we can determine nothing till they are trans-
planted into other soils ; but in all cases a consci-
entious and diligent cultivation of a child^s mind,
accompanied by a consistent example, — without
which instruction too often injures rather than im-
proves, — will be like the seed sown, which may
not appear for a season, but will in the end spring
up and reward our labour.

I have alrealy noticed that Mr. R. constantly
corresponded wiih his son : he did more, — Nugent
was in his daily thoughts, and he earnestly and
continually carried him to a throne of grace ;,and I
cannot but ascribe to the faith and prayer of the
affectionnte parent, the remarkable escape of the
child. The Arniston, having sailed without him,
was wrecked near Cape Lagullus, with the loss of
the whole crew. Three hundred and fifty persons

Cerished, and thus Nugent's error was overruled
y a gracious Goil to the preservation of his life*
Bach interpositions of providence may be treated
with.indiHerencc and contempt by mea of JImi

114 OCOUEHKirCES IN INDIA, WITH

world. Mr. R. bowed the knee, and thankfully
praised God,'' " 1 have prayed to Thee, O Father,
in secret, and Thou hast rewarded me openly."

Soon after Nugent left the Arniston, he obliained
the situation of third officer in the brig Kandian.
Of this appointment he informed his father, adding,

" And now, my dear parents^ while you are living
quietly at home, I am tossed about the stormy
ocean in ail weathers, and never knowing that I am
safe a moment. I hope Wilberforce will take
warning from my sad wanderings, or he will never
be happy ; receive my kind love, dear father and
mother ; the same to my brothers and sisters. I
hope God will take care of me, forgive and convert
me ; He is the best friend ; do not cease to pray
for me, and remember me still, for I am

Your affectionate Son,

N. R."

From some unknown cause, the letters from
England, though sent at regular periods, did not
reach their destination ; and Nugent suffered much
anxiety at not hearing from his ^mily : he writes,

Ever dear and affectionate parents.

" * * * It is now two years since I lefl
England, and I have neither heard from nor of you,
except once from a missionary, who told me he
had seen you in Yorkshire a few months after 1
sailed, and that you were quite well. He is a very
^ood man, and I have been to hear him several

times. 1 have also attended Mr. , another

missionary, and a valuable servant of God ; indeed
they all appear to be of one heart and one spirit.

Would to God I were like them ! Mr. ^ has

be^n very kind to me ; but he is a bad man, and

LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. ^l5

altogether unfit to be a clergyman. J shall not
mention his faults, for it seems ungrateful to dwell
on a benefactor's misconduct, or indeed on the^
misconduct of any one. I have been greatly dis-
tressed at hearing nothing of my poor mother, who
has shed so many tears on my account, nor of mj
dear brothers and sisters, though I have written so
many lettters to them.

'* So the Arniston was lost! Oh! merciful escfipe!

" I am sorry to say, my new captain is a wild, .
extravagant, and dissipated man, always giving
balls and routs on board or on shore. * * * *
Dancing and singing to a late hour is a sad way of
spending Saturday night. It shocks me to say, my
dear father, I have only been to church about
twelve times since I left England ; indeed, sailors
scarcely know what church is, except on board men
of war, where there is a chaplain ; nevertheless,
if we cannot go to church, we seldom work on a
Sunday as on a week-day ; so that I have time to
read the Bible and pray. You gave me a Bible
when I left you, and 1 have it still, and hope al-
ways tohaveit. O'thatlknew howto make a rightuse
of it. Be assured, my dear father, I neither dance
nor gamble ; although there is much of both here,
and I should please more if I did as others ; I thank
God 1 know not how to do either, and I am sure I
have no wish to be wise in such things. 1 have
encountered many unpleasant remarks on this ac-
count Pray for me, pray for your poor Noaent ;
think when you are in bed and by your fire-sule, I
am toiling by day and watching by night, tossed
about in gales of wind, scared by storms of thunder,
lightning, and rain, ignorant of my fate for a single
hour. Oh! a sailor^s life is wicked, miserable, and
deplorable ; but this is all the fruit of my sin, and 1
justly deserve my chastisement. Farewell-jthat
you may long live, and my motherly wi^ BistMi,i^

» ■ ^

110 OCCURRENCES IK INDIA, WITB

and my brothers, to enjoy every blessing, temporal
and eternal, is the ardent wish

or your afiectionate son,

N. R.'*

A few months after, he wrote again to his
mother : —

** My dearest and most appectionate Mother.

" I have just heard ihat the ship Alexander is
arrived at Coluinbo, by which I hope to receive
letters from home. I am on the other side of Cey-
Ion, and I fear it may be a fortnight or three weeks
before I can get them here, and we expect to sail
before that time. I am all uneasiness; and still
more anxious when I think what will be said in
them. Sometimes I am pleased, then I am grieved
and fear; uncertain c)f their contents, slill I long to
read them. Thanks to an all-merciful God, I Jiave
succeeded well in India, especially when I consider
I had no friend to guide me ; but my success gives
me little satisfaction, while I reflect on the wounded
feelings of an affeciionate mother. I now, indeed,
see and feel my folly ; if I had taken your advice 1
should never have sutTercd so many hardships, but
this is not my greatest trial, my sins will all rise up
against me in the hour of death and at the day of
judgment. Oh! that I could feel this consideration *
as I ought ; nny insensibility distresses me. May
the Lord help me.

*< Nov. 2. No letter. I am full of uneasiness and
anxiety. This is Sunday and the vessel is under .
my command. My superior officers are gone on
shore, I fear for no good, they think very little of
worship, officers or men. The men are great

! ramblers. I went among them this cvcninjs^, and
bund them at hazard : I threw the dice overboard,
tbbugh probably my life is in danger for what 1 hava

LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 117

done, for the dice belonged to a Spaniard, who
thinks nothing of using his stiletto: but I have done
what I considered my duty, and I must trust God
with the consequences. The Portuguese sailors when
provoked are as revengeful as the Spaniards : the
other night I nearly lost my life from a party of .
them ; there had been a quarrel between some
Portuguese and English sailors ; I was walking alone
on shore, when fifteen of the former came up and
asked me to what nation I belonged, and on mj
replying, " To the English," they lifted up their
cudgels to level me with the ground. I raised mj
arms to defend my head, when they discovered my
uniform and buttons, and cried out " Dont strike
him," for they perceived I was not a common sailor,
or I certainly should have been killed on the spot.
This was another wonderful escape. God is very
eood to me, and I long]to make a suitable return to
.Him.

" Nov. 4. This day my letters are arrived, but
they are a series of sorrows to me. When I read
the first, how I felt! I could scarcely hold it in my
hand : I sobbed and wept. Oh! my poor mother,
I have occasioned your illness and endangered your
life. I do not know how tof^o on writing; I cannot
•put two words comfortably together. I know, fmy
dear mother, ^you prayed for me in that trying
hour. * * * * * %• -

.♦•^r. B ^, who is returning to Europe, hfts

• behaved very kindly to me ever since I first knew
biiliVirluch is now more than a year ; he will tell
7pii'''i!l.illout me. I am conscious of not being
-^rnhnt join would wish me to be, but I hope by
God's grace to be made altogether such as you
desire. I know you pray for me continually, and I
trust that God will change nay heart before I die,—
Farewell, my dear mother, I shall write whenever
opportunity serves ; do you write constantly to iSKii * ,

118 occoftftsvcss ly indu,'with

Remember me most kindly to my father, brothersi
and sister?. That they may long live in- the enjoy*
ment of every blessing, is the earnest prayer for
them all of

Your affectionate

I have ever remarked that no case is hoi)ele89
where there is strong aflTcctiun. An unimpassioned
soul is seldom touched by any Ihing beyond the
range of it^i own selfish gratifications, and usually
presents a stubborn resistance to considerations
which affect only or chiefly , the welfare of others;
but an affectionate temper, amidst many sinful
wanderings, is still capable of impression.

The letters ofNugent discover a very fcviling and
grateful spirit, a sense of obligation, and a self*
condemnation for past misconducL They display
a conflict between duty and irregular inclination, and
ita some instances a firmness of principle far above

?iere nature. They could not fail to inspire a .
leasing hope, that though an enemy had sown
tares in the field, the wheat would ultimately over*
top them and grow to maturity. Mr, ilichmond^s
heart was full of joy, and his fuith leaned on^the
promises of God with firmer dopchdence ; he was en*
couraged to more vigorous perseverance in inter*
ceding for his much loved child ; he had carried his
sorrows to God, and he now praised him for his '
faithfulness in alleviating them. About this time
the following letter was received from a missionatj
at Columbo, which boars an honourable testimony
to Nugent^s improved conduct. It will be read with
interest by those who can sympathize with a father*s
sufferings, or understand the joy wnich welcomes a
returning penitent.

UTTERS TO BIS PARKlfrs. 119

** Dear and Reverend Sir,

*'I have no doubt you will excuse the liberty a
itranger takes, who know.'t you only by name, in
writing to you a few lines, which cannot fail to in*
terest both you and your family. 1 have :i fathor^s
heart, and know well the feelings with which yoo
will receive the in(t>rmation I send you respecting
Mr. Nugent Richmond, your once disobedient son.
It would be most pleasing to tfie to say that he is a
humble penitent, seeking life and salvation through
the boundless merits of a crucified Redeemer; but
though I fear to go thus far, I am warranted to bear
testimony to a real change in him in many respects.
He is become quite steady in his conduct, and is
very attentive to the duties of his profession, and
you have not the least cause for anxiety with regard
to his temporal welfare ; nor is he by any means
careless and unconcerned about the things which
make for his eternal peace. He is much more
anxious than he used to be for religious society, and
often attends our evening meetings. This morning
he breakfasted with us, and 1 endeavoured to sup*
ply your place in my poor way, by interrogating
him in the mostserious manner, respecting the state
of his soul ; and when ] found him unprepared to
answer me in the way I wished, I urged his still
closer attention to religion, by motives addressed
to his hopes and fears. I read to him the fifty-first
Psalm, and he listened with deep interest, and
seemed to feel every word. I prayed for him in
my family worship, and enjoyed a more than usual
freedom in spreading his case before the Lord.— »
When we arose from our knees, I believe there
were few dry eyes. On the whole, I think we have
reason to hope the best respecting your son ; I ad*
vised him to read some passage in the Bible every
day, with special application to his own case, and

190 OCCURRENCKS IN INDIA, WITH

to turn it into prayer for himself. I have heard
many acknowledge, that they have received great
benefit from praying in God's own words. May
poor Nugent be another instance. I cannot close
the hasty letter, without informing you of the good
effect of the Dairyman's Daughter in Ceylon. A

Eerson of whose conversion 1 do not doubt, and who
as joined our little church, ascribes his change of
heart to God and you.

*' Begging you will read with candour what I have
written with difficulty,
" I am, with respectful and affectionate regard,

Tour's,

J. C."

The caution with which this correspondent
speaks of conversion, renders his testimony the
more valuable ; yet it appears to me very evident,
that Nugent was making progress towards a com-
plete surrender of his heart to God, and that his
mind was at this time under the influence of real
principle. He might be less acquainted than others
with experimental religion, and have much to learn
as to the cause of his wanderings, and the entire
corruption of his heart ; defects of this kind he
laments himself, and in all his letters describes his
case rather as that of one who seeks and longs to
be a true convert, than of one who has attained a
saving change ; still, in a long series of correspond-
ence before me, I remark in him a gradual, and
very real approximation to all that is correct in
opinion and conduct ; he never reflects on any one
but himself ; he labours to guard his brothers against
sin, by the knowledge of its effects and conse-
quences in his own history ; he bears an affec-
tionate testimony to the conscientious consistency
of his parents; he wishes for an opportunity to
make* some suitable returns for thehr kindness ; he

LETTERS TO HIS PAREKt$< 121

connects every event with the disposition of divine
providence ; he secures the respect and counte-
nance of every one by his steady and correct con-
duct ; he courts the society of good people ; he
firmly resists evil, though attended with danger to
himself, and on all occasions expresses himself with
so much affection and veneration for true religion,
as on the whole satisfies my own mind, that even
if he had now been removed from the world, his
family would have had no reason to have sorrowed
as those without hope. There is not, however, in
these letters such a degree of interest to persons
unacquainted with him, as to warrant their intro-
duction. A sufficient number relating to this period
are already before the reader, to shew the value oT
early instruction under every circumstance.

The young sailor quitted the Kenyon, which was
sold by the government, and went on board the
Oracabessa, from which vessel he wrote to his
father the following affecting account of the state
of slavery at the Mauritius; — a letter full of correct
feeling, and still more satisfactory evidence of right
conduct.

"My dear FATHER,

*' We arc on the point of sailing for the Mauri-
tius. * * * I know that you will be pleased
to hear that I am taking out some Bibles, Testa-
ments, and Tracts in diffent languages, which

were sent to me by nrty friend Lieutenant B ,

to distribute and try what good 1 could do there.
How is it there are no missionaries at the Mauri-
tius? an island containing thirty thousand souls;
ten thousand whites, and twenty thousand men of
colour. I can safely assure you there is no part
of the world where the British flag is flying, which
is half so ignorant, or in such a dreadful state of

^■.■-s*

132 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH

darkness : there is, indeed, scarcely any religion at
all there ; what there is, is Roman Catholic ; it is
true there is an English church, and perhaps from
twenty to thirty persons in it once a day, and the
clergyman ; * * * * but the island
from one end to the other, exhibits every species
of vice, without control or check of any kind.
Slavery, as you know, is the cause of every thing
that is bad : never were its frightful effects more
clearly shown than in this place ; they are far
worse than even in our West India plantations. I
have been an eye-witness to scenes altogether
shocking to humanity: the heaviest punishments
are inflicted for faults, which in England would
receive a trifling fine, or a short imprisonment.
Masters have chopped off the ears of their slaves,
and in some instances, have literally starved them
^ to death. Neither is the slave-trade extinct in this
part of the world, but is still carried on to a great
extent* There may be a stricter watch against
the slave vessels, but nevertheless they are loaded
every month, and I have known the slaves to have
. been taken into harbour in empty water casks to
elude detection.

" Now, my father, take your Atlas and look at
the position of Mauritius, Bambour, and Madagas-
car, with the African main. Slaves are to be pro-
curedf -ftt .either of the last places for about thirty
ck»J|iB^iB^fiead. If taken to Bourbon, or the Mau-
ilm|4hey fetch from three to four hundred dol-
lar£r.' ts not this an irresistible temptation to a
slave-trader, when he is sure of his price if he can
escape the vigilance of the naval oflicers. If you
look at the position of these places, you may judge
of the ease of carrying on this traffic, when I tell
TOU that there is only one man of war in the har-
Dour of Port Louis to search vessels which come
im ; and not one cruising about this coast, though it

y#t

LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 123

is well known that there are five Spanish shipsi
two Portuguese, and one English, employed in the
trade. One of these vessels was lately wrecked
there : of the crew, one sailor only was saved, who
is now on board our ship; he has frequently con-
versed with me, and I am persuaded bis informa-
tion is correct.

" Now can nothing be done to restrain the cruel
treatment of these pooc creatures ? On landing at
Port Louis, you would see one of them in irons,
and as you advanced, another flogged most unmer-
cifully, without distinction of sex, and in general
no clothing allowed ; some kind-hearted masters
give a dollar a year for clothes. There is, I believe,
a code of laws, but they are never enforced. 1
have myself seen slaves unable to stand, from the
severity of their punishment ; thirty in a row, on
whose bdicks gashes, not lashes, might be observed ;
pieces fairly- cut out, and in some instances an eye
forced out, and there is no redress : nor are they
fed properly. 1 had forty-five of them working
under me, for whom their owner received a dollar
a day per head : they worked from sun-rise 4^ sun-
set, and what was their food ? For breakfast a
cake, made of a kind of potato, weighing three
ounces : for dinner half a pound of boiled rice, with
one spoonful of assinge, or an equal quantity of
horse-beans ; for supper, the same as at bx^j^iitst,
with a little water to drink. '^'' :..- f

I will tell you an instance which I know folMl'ifjr^,' »
amidst many others which I have heard fbolQ^ nteh
of veracity. A woman flogged her own sister, who
was unfortunately her slave also, till she fainted.
She then twisted her arms till the poor creature
nearly expired. She then let her recover, and singed
her flesh with a hot iron ; * * * * *
• the sufferer never complained ; indeed if she had, it
wouljji have beeiji worse fojr her jin the end ; the truth

:>^ T

124 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA; WITH

is, there is a combination among the people of the
whole island to resist the law, and support each other
in their acts of oppression. My object in mentioning
these things to you, is that you should first make
inquiry to satisfy yourself of the truth of the facts,
and then try to gel something done for these
wretched beings. If such cruellies be passed by
with indifference in the harbour, what unobserved
abominations may be expected in the interior of tho
island.

" It is said that the climate requires no clothing,
but this is false : the nights are very cold, and the
season sometimes severe. 1 have even slept under
several blankets, and been cold. How many poor
souls have not one!

Kindest love to all, and

Believe me, my dear Father,
Your affectionate Son,

N. R.''

From the Bay of AH-Saints, he touches again on
this horrid traffic: — "I have made many observa-
tions ofi the country and people here, and particu-
larly on the Slave-trade ; all of which will confirm
what I have already told you respecting it. This
port is full of slave ships, and I am laying close to
one which has just landed seven hundred, men,
women, and children. What a pity this nation
shdiuld persist in this infamous traffic ; I admit the
slaves are better used than in some other places,
but still they are exposed to the caprices and unre-
strained passions of corrupt nature.

^' I have been distributing tracts and Bibles which
some have rejected with scorn, and others received
with thanks. 1 assure you I have spent more time
in this way, than in attending to my worldly interest^
and so I ought ; for 1 am indebted to Him for all
my mercies, in whose cause 1 am so labouring ; and

^ »«' 1,. -<L
* -% • * . •

Xl^TTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 125

if only one Bible finds its way to the heart, if^at
shall I think of my task in eternity. Wherever I
go I will labour faithfully in this good work, to the
utmost of my power, and particularly in the Isle of
France, for that island is grievously neglected as to
all spiritual instruction.

''I have conversed with two Catholic priests,
they appear to me pious men, though they refuse to
sanction the distributionof the scriptures among the
laity. I confess I am not able to argue with them.'*

Upon the chief subjects of these letters, we may
again remark the happy recollections of his early
years. From his excellent father he had imbibed
an aversion to iniquitous traffic, and a sense of its
wretched effects on the well-being, both of the op-
pressor and the oppressed ; from him he had learnt
also to value the Holy Scriptures as God's best gift
to a ruined world, and had received associations of
sentiment and affection which no subsequent wan-
derings of sinful inclination, no exposure to the
temptation of scenes full of danger, and abounding
with iniquity, could ever obliterate. The principles
of his education restrained him in bis worst moments^,
and they obtained a permanent ascendancy with
the return of better feelings produced by the saluta-
ry correction of his misfortunes. Ih his case, the
experiment of a voyage was successful, though it
may be doubted whether in general any other result
can reasonably be expected from it than a confirma-
tion of a young man's evil propensities. It seemed
good to a wise and gracious God to exercise this mis-
guided but afi'ectionate youth, with a succession of
disappointments, mingled with merciful preserva-
tions, and to train him in the school of adversity to
shew the good effect of a pious father's instructions,
and the rich boon of a father's blessing and prayers.

His shipwrecks — his losses— and his severe trial
in the death of an amiable young woman to whom

12*

126 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA^ WITH

he was engaged in marriage,- have been detailed By
another hand ; and 1 have only to add a few ex*
tracts from numerous letters in my possession, illus-
trative of his progress in unfeigned piety.

"The happiest day I could see in this world,
would be that on which I might mingle myself once
more with you all. Oh! with what joy should I re-
turn to you, my dear father, and my dear mother,
to receive your forgiveness and welcome home
again. God only knows whether wc shall ever
meet on this side eternity ; there seem to be
more difficulties and obstacles in my way every
year.

" The next happy day would be when the Lord,
who has ever been kind and merciful to me^
should entirely wean me from this wicked world
and its temptations ; then should I be as happy as
I wish to be."

''My Bible, which is every thing, is the only
means of grace I have ; by reading it, with some
other good books, tracts, and sermons,! hope to
keep close to the fear of God.

"There are two clergymen here, but, alas! — I
must say no evil, when 1 can say no good of them,
I viish some missionaries, truly pious men, were
sent out to us ; I assure you we have great need of
spiritual instructors. A good man preached in a
brig close to us yesterday ; and I hope next Sun-
day to hoist the flag of Zion at our main-mast
head."

" My dear father, you have now four sons, will
you spare me one of them? it will be a great charge,
but not the first of the kind. 1 have had a young-
ster three years under my care, and it will be some
security to you for my proper conduct, when 1 tell
you that Lieutenant B — - — is going to put his
younger son under my management. He is a pious

LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 12T

man, and his confidence in me may serve to shew
that I am not altogether un/ieserving of your's."

" I have never kept my birth day but once since
1 left England. I sat and felt so melancholy instead
of being joyful ; and with good reason when I look
back on years that are past."

" We sail for the Mauritius to-morrow, and I have
humbly besought the Lord, who has ever beenjDer*
ciful to me, to protect and preserve us all.

** Oh, my good father ! no one can conceive the
horror of a shipwreck but those who have experi-
enced it. Many, many, heartfelt thanks to that
Providence which has again rescued me from a
watery grave. I had made a little fortune, and was
returning home with presents for my family, and
with three beautiful shawls for mydear mother, but
all is lost,except one trunk, in which was my Bible
and the Dairyman^s Daughter. Thus all my hopes
and expectations have been frustrated. Yet 1 believe
these tilings are for my good. I must begin the
world afresh, and 1 hope to do so in more senses
than one. Tell my dear mother not to grieve for
my misfortunes, God knows what is best for us."

" While the ship was driving, and it bfew a per-
fect hurricane, I went down to my cabin to pray to
the Lord for his assistance and protection in this
trying hour. In the midst of prayer, and while the
tears were in my e} es, the ship struck on a sand,
with a shock which brought many to the ground ; I
staggered a little, though on my knees, and my

little L. B was thrown ofTa chest on which he

lay close to me. Every thing was now confusion.
In the mean timel again went belowand prayed with
heart and soul to Almighty God to save us ; — and
my prayers were answered, * * for a certain some-
thing — a kind of fomfortable thought seemed to
rest with me and say, 'Thy life shall be spared.' —
Not all the shocks, seas, or winds could afterwards

»•

128 occuRasNCES in INDIA, with •T'^*'V

make me fear or think the contrary. Surely there
never was a greater proof than this, that the Lord
18 always with us. It animated and comforted me,
and made me work and exert myself with redoubled
vigour, though a great part of the night it rained
])ard accompanied by thunder and lightning.

^Oh I how thankful I ought to be to Almighty
Grod for his many mercies repeatedly shewn to me ;
— indeed I trust I know that suitable returns are
expected from me. * » * » When I look back
on the last twenty.five years, 1 am lost in wonder
and astonishment. My dear father, do not forget
the eighteenth of July."

" One thing grieved me in the shipwreck more
than all — the loss of some valuable presents for my
family ; but this is God's will ; it is the Lord's doing,
and all is for the best.''

" I am returning home for the re-establishment of
my health, which has suffered severely from expos-
ure to hardships by night and day : but the happi-
ness of seeing you all once more will not a little
contribute to my restoration. My heart beats, and
my head turns giddy at the thought of this meeting ;
it will be both a pleasing and a painful one to me."

" Do not expect me before the end of July or the
beginning of August. I shall, of course write to
my father on my arrival, that 1 may not take you by
surprise. And oh! my dear mother, pray for a sale
voy.age for me and a meeting to us all. 1 have had
many trials, afflictions, and crosses for the last ten
months, but I feel the loss of her to whom 1 was
engaged most of all, perhaps too much. Still in
all these things there is one^reat consolation ; they
are sent by him who careth for me. I believe they
are all ordered in wisdom and mercy, th«>ugh you
and I may not be able to interpret their mean-
ing« If we could see the end, as we shall do by
and by, I am quite satisfied we should gratefully

LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 1'29

acknowledge that they were intended for good, and
this comfortable assurance, through him who loved
us better than we love ourselves, will, I trust, be
my support, and inspire me with cheerful resigna-
tion and renewed confidence in God. 1 have
many thoughts about eternity ; though, alas ! the^
wicked one strives to banish them from my mind.
"Your truly valuable letters, my dear mother, dis-
cover so much affection and kindness towards me,
that 1 know not how to express my joy and thank-
fulness ; they often draw tears from my eyes, and
are the dearer to me the more I read them. 1 have
a great deal to say, to propose and to request, and
hardly know whether to begin now, or wait till I
have the joy of seeing my dearest parents. What a
meeting this will be ! 1 seem to dread it though it
would be a grief inexpressible were it n9t to take
place. * * * * Pray for an unfortunate wan-
derer, and may God answer your prayers to my pres-
ent and eternal good."

The expected return of Nugent was an event
which warmed every heart in Turvey Rectory with
the most anxious and affectionate sympathy. The
whole family was eager, either to welcome a rela-
tive whom they scarcely knew but by report, or to
renew an affection which time and distance had
not effaced, but rather strengthened.

Mrs. Richmond fitted up, partly with her own
hand, a room for her son's reception, and arranged
every thing to testify her regard for her returning
child, and banish every painful recollection from
his mind ; but after the lapse of a few months, his
death, instead of his arrival, was announced.

His constitution had been greatly impaired by
unhealthy climates, and the successions of hardships
to which he had been exposed, until both his health
and spirits finally sunk under the last and greatest

130 giS DEATH.

trial, the death of Miss . After this eyent he

resolved on returning immediately to England.

Previous to the voyage he had an attack of fever,
and embarked in very weak health. The ship met
with a heavy gale, w*hich induced him to exert him-
self beyond his strength ; he had a relapse of fever,
became very ill, and was occasionally delirious. —
Immediate danger was not apprehended, but one
night he went to bed about twelve o^clock,and was
found dead in his cabin the next morning, to the
surprise and grief of all on board, by whom he was
universally beloved and respected.

Alone in the hour of his departure from sin and
florrow ; yet not alone, for his God, and the God
of his father was with him, and gave him rest from
the days of adversity,*

An ivory box containing a few jewels and gold
chains, which he had intended as presents for his
brothers and sisters, was discovered in his pocket
after his decease. On the inside of the cover, the
following lines were written in his own hand in pen-
cil, apparently a short time before his death.

Where vice has held his empire long,
'Twill not endure the least control :
None but a power divinely strong,
Can turn the current of the soul.
Great God, I own thy power divine,
That works to change this heart of mine ;
I would be formed anew, and bless
The wonders of redeeming grace.

*The chief part of his property was lost with the Oracabessa,
bat he left out ol the scanty store reserved from three shipwrecks,
A hundred rupees to general charitable purposes ; JC50. to the
Bible Society, £50. to the Church Missionary Society, £50. to
the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, and £50. to the
Religious Tract Society. The selection of these charitable in-
stitutions was probably designed to express affection and respect
for his father^s preferences, as well a? regard on his own part for
th« truth* «f religion.

HIS DEATd« 131

While little was known of his dying moments,
the most satisfactory accounts of his living hours
were received by Mr. Richmond from many persons
who for some years had observed Nugent's exem-^
plary conduct.

A melancholy feeling steals over the spirits, as
we follow this first-born son of an excellent man
through each succeeding calamity of his life, to a
solitary death.

We must adore in silence, confidently resting on
the wisdom and goodness pf Him whom clouds and
darkness surround, while '^ righteousness and truth
are the habitations of his seat."

The history before us exhibits in the clearest
light (and this is my chief purpose in writing it) the
inestimable blessing of a pious parent, and the value
of a religious education under all possible contin-
gencies. *' In the morning sow thy seed, and in
the eveniog' withhold not thine hand, for thou
knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or
that, or whether they both shall be alike good." —
(Eccles. xi. 6.)

132 WlLBERFORCE^b CHILDHOOD.

CHAPTER VL

** And therefore wert thou bred to virtuous knowledge,
And wisdom early planted in thy soul."

RowE.

WiLBERFORCE was the second son of his father, and
was born in Turvey Rectory, Aug. 20, 1807.

Mr. R. intended to have added another tract to
the annals of pious young people. He had pre-
pared materials for this purpose, and even chosen
that title for his narrative, which I have adopted
for the present tribute of affection to his memory.
It is deeply to be regretted, that he did not live to
execute his design. His talents for religious biog-
raphy was peculiar, perhaps unequalled. He drew
his sketches from real life, with a scrupulous atten-
tion to truth, and never failed to touch the heart. —
But such was the poignancy of his feelings in the
recollection of past scenes, that he was often com-
pelled to lay aside the attempt, and wait for a sea-
son of greater composure. Meanwhile his own in-
creasing infirmities, and his final removal from
earthly scenes and earthly sorrows, deprived the
Christian world of a most instructive memoir, which
though complete in the outline, and comprising all
he meant to say of his son from the cradle to the
grave, is so imperfect in its detail, that no further
use can be made of his materials, than to guide me
in my feeble delineation of the character of this in-
teresting little boy.

Soon after his birth he was received into the
Christian church by the rite of baptism, when his

CBILDHOOD OF WILBERFORCE. 133

father called him Wilberforce, connecting with that
name the most important event in his own life, his
conversion to God by the perusal of the " Practi-
cal View of Christianity."*

While an infant, he was taken by his parents on
a visit to -r — . Certain associations impart an
interest to circumstances apparently trivial, while
they are fondly regarded as presages of future em-
inence, and often stimulate to the diligent employ-
ment of means for its attainment. Of this chara*cter
is the following anecdote.

^' I cannot forget a circumstance which occurred
in his infancy ; his mother and myself were on a
visit at a friend's house. A large faiiiily were as-
sembled at morning prayers, and amongst them was
our little boy in his nurse's arms. An aged and
venerable minister was conducting the family wor-
ship. In the midst of his prayer, the child began
to cry. The good man paused, and beckoned the
servant to give him the infant. He took him in his
arms, and held him for several minutes^ during
which he offered up most affecting petitions on his
behalf, praying earnestly^ and in a manner that
touched all our hearts, that it might please God to
bless him for time and eternity ; that if his life were
spared, he might be a blessing to his parents and
the church of God, and finally nave an inheritance
with the saints in light. He then returned the
child, now pacified, to his nurse's arms, and resumed
the general subject of his prayer, which had been
thus interruptecf. There was an affecting singular-
ity in the transaction, which much interested us at
the time, and now that I am engaged in the retro-
spective view of what passed from the cradle to the
grave of my beloved son, it recurs to my recollec-
tion with peculiar emotions of heart. The venera-

*See Memoir of Mr. Richmond, p. 26.

134 wilberforce's childhood. . .

ble man of God is long since gone to his rest, but
his prayer was recorded in heaven, and the Lord
in mercy has given it a gracious answer/'

When little more than two years old he fell from
a window, on the pavement, and though he recover-
ed from the accident, he was lame ever afterwards,
and the natural delicacy of his constitution was pro-
bably increased by the injury he received at that
time. This circumstance would scarcely have de-
served a serious mention, if it did not seem to be a
link in the chain of events which contribute towards
the formation of his character, bv rendering him
unfit for boyish sports, and compelling him to seek
amusement in higher occupations."^

' His resource was the Museum, and the experi-
ments made by his father's philosophical apparatus.
In these he took a principal share, and resorted to
them when his other studies did not require his at-
tentiocr. Electricity, pneumatics, mineralogy, chem-
istry, and music, in which he was no mean profi-
cient, occupied his leisure hours. He delighted in
science of every kind^ but especially in the mathe-
matics. The indubitable verity of a demonstration
suited his turn of mind, and had God spared his life,
he would probably have distinguished himself at the
university. Such was the opinion of his tutor, who,
in a letter of condolence to his father after his
death, speaks of him as a boy of no common in-
telligence and attainment.

^^1 marked the superior endowments of his mind
in the first hours of our intercourse, and was con-
firmed in my opinion by each succeeding year. He
caught an idea quickly, never seemed to forget it,
for his memory was remarkably strong and retent-

* To treat little things with contempt is no mark of superior
intelligence. Their potency is acknowledged by all thoughtful
observers of the course of events, whether in the sparrow that
falls, or the single hair which is numbered.

WILBERFORCE^S PURSUITS. 135

ive, and he made more rapid and solid attainments
than any other boy placed under my care. At a
very early period he read Euclid, and surprised me
with his acute and sensible observations on the
character of pure mathematics. He appeared
delighted to master a difficult problem, and before
he was twelve years of age, had exceeded the ad-
vance of many men of two years' standing at the
University.

^^ I observed an equal neatness and success in his
classical exercises and translations. But I was still
more astonished at l\is discrimination and know-
ledge of character. This must have arisen^ from
his seeking the conversation of his superiors. He
had a thinking mind, and a habit of going to the
bottom of a subject. He was not without his pre-
judices, and sometimes expressed a contempt for
authority, and assumed an air of confidence in his
opinion, which needed checking, though I never
found him obstinate or averse to re-consider his own
decisions, and but seldom in any material error.

" He had a playful temper, and with great good
humour would join his brothers in a gambol ; but
when alone, he was more like a little man than a
child, — he wa«, in short, an amusing and rational
companion.

The writer of the above extract left Turvey
when his pupil was about twelve years of age.
Wilberforce expressed great regret at his removal, .
and addressed his tutor m a letter equally creditable
to both parties. I lay it before the reader* to shew
the affectionate and grateful temper of the one, and
to bear an honourable testimony to the conscien-
tious and valuable services of the other.

136 letter to his tutor,

''My dear sir,
'^ I hope you will not suppose that I am insensible
to the value of your kind and affectionate care of
me. I know nothing wounds more deeply than
neglect and ingratitude, and I hope I have never,
amidst many other errors, fallen into this offence.
If 1 have appeared ungrateful, I sincerely ask par-
di«fi, I fear I have often behaved disrespectfully,
and '^ done many things which I ought not to have
done.'' But I assure you, I never gave offence
without pain to myself, and the reproof of my own
conscience, and a fesolution to amend. 1 am cer-
tain ail these things will be forgotten, but I thought
1 might not have a better opportunity of telling you
how deeply I regret them. 1 shall ever entertain
the liveliest emotions of gratitude for the care and
pains you have taken in the superintending and
directing my studies, and though distance may
separate us, I trust love will unite us. I am per-
suaded you will never forget me, and I beg' you
will receive this book as a tribute of affection, and
a memorial of lasting friendship. My obligations to
you are many, and I wish you to possess something
as a token of my sense of them. Perchance, when
you take up the volume, you will recur to former
scenes aiid associations, and think of Turvey —
" sed tempora mutantur." I hope my letter will
not displease you : if I have not the pen of a ready
.writer, I can safely say, I am sincere in all I have
said. Be assured of this, that however far distant
you may be, or whatever clime you may dwell in
-^long indeed must the time be before I can for-
get so good a master as you have been to me. I
cannot bid you farewell, until I have wished you
health and happiness wherever you may be. I shall
highly value and prize vobi^ correspondence.

Ever your's, gratefully and affectionately,

Wilberforce.^^

VISIT TO LONDON. 137

1 perceive by Mr. R/s memoranda, that he took
his little boy on a visit to London, with a view to
amuse and instruct him by the curiosities of that
magnificent metropolis.

I have no doubt the conversation with his child on
this occasion was intended for insertion, and would
probably have afforded an illustration of his own
constant aim at improvement, no less than the char-
acter and progress of his companion. A letter to
Wilberforce on a subsequent visit to town by him-
self, may in a small degree supply the defect.

'( My dear Master Wilberforce,

"As you asked me to describe to you some of the
sights which have met my eye in this sightly and
sightful city, I will obey you.

" 1. The Hobby, or Accelerator, or Adjutor.
The neatness of its motions, the swiftness of its
speed, the elegance of its management, and the
simplicity of its construction, are very remarkable.
I have not had a quiet opportunity of trying it,
nor do I think the lame can manage it so well
as others. On Tuesday next, a new one for
ladies only is to be exhibited. All the town is wild
this year after hobbies, as they were last year for
kaleidescopes. Old men and children, young men
and maidens will soon be whirling and twirling like
Tetotums. Twelve places of exhibition already
exist. I have been much amused with the sight.

" The Au^maton Chess Player. Nothing ever
surprised or perplexed me so much as this. It is a
masterpiece of mechanical invention, and how it
acts, is as yet past discovery. It has been shown
throughout Europe, but no one has approached to
detection. It had so singular an effect on my nerves,
that I wished for permission to give one immense
laugh, and another immense cry, in order to give

13*

138 BXBlilTIONS. •

vent to my exuberant spirits. The whole company
sat in motionless wonder for an hour, during whichf
one of them played against the Automaton Turk,
and was beaten, though a first-rate player, which
vexed him not a little, and he pinched his nose, and
bit his fingers with vexation. Our silence was then
broken by a man of wood, dressed as a trumpeter,
and who played like a trumpeter, and full well he
trumpeted, for he accompanied with great precision
his master and maker, who played a piece on the
Piano Forte.

"III. The Gothic Hall of ancient armoury. This
is very magnificent — cost three thousand pounds,
and alas ! is going to be sold by auction like Bul-
lock's museum, part of the dissolution of which 1
have witnessed in the auction room. 1 saw an an-
tique pieqp of sculpture put up ; one pound, said a
gentleman ; two, said another ; three — four — five
— one hundred, said the next ; two hundred and
fifty, said an old lady ; five hundred, said another
— and down it went.

"IV. The Sostenente Piano Forte. Lovely,
sweet, chaste, bewitching tones. Very handsome
in appearance — price from one hundred and ten, to
three hundred guinea^.

"V. Doctor Thornton's lecture on the human
frame. A fresh subject discussed every time.
About thirty ladies and forty gentlemen present ;
very useful and instructive. Fine transparent pain-
tings of the difierent parts of the system illustrated ;
a grand collection of human bon^s, asd of all kinds
of animals ; he exhibited the laughing gas, and it
made us all laugh wonderfully ; none could conceive
the effect without seeing it ; several of the compa-
ny tried and exhibited the experiment. He produced
by another gas, a globe of fire, quite, indeed,
quite as bright as the sun at noon-day. He also
made, as H- would say, » an enormous bang,^

fiXaiBITIONS.

with so^p-suds and hydrogen-gas. The ladies
screamed with fright, but no harm was done, and
the laughing gas banished all alarms.

'' VI. The Panorama of Spitzbergen, novel and
satisfactory. Icebergs, ice-mountains, snow, seas,
ships, seals, sea horses, laruses, white-bears, arctic-
dogs, &c. in abundance ; skies terrific — the whole
admirably executed, and affording a complete
lecture on the natural history of the Polar districts.

*'VII. The Dandies. Very numerous, and vastly
abominable. I will not describe them, for verily my
«oul loatheth them. The dandizettes, the more
sightly of the two; but alas! vanity of vanities, all
is vanity!

VIII. The Southwark bridge, which you and I
saw casting at Rotherham. It strides most nobly
across the Thames, and is a grand ornament to the
river.

" IX. The Persian Ambassador. A fine figure
in full costume, and quite answers one's idea of an
oriental Mahometan Grandee.

" X. The fair Circassian. As nobody sees her,
of course I do not, so I cannot describe her.

'' I have gone through my arduous day, and have
been gratified by a long and interesting conversa-
tion with L W . I have received no letters

from home ; and have therefore no answer to send«

With great love to you all,

1 our affectionate Father,

L. R."

This playful and amusing journal of London cu-
riosities, contains ho allusion to the subject which
lay nearest to his heart. But Mr. Richmond sel-
dom wrote on any occasion to his children without
reminding them of some religious truth, or connect-
ing whatever was curious in art, or beautiful and
grand in nature, with a remark calculated to inspire

tW MK. K,«,^gfeTKaS TO '

in their minds seiitii^i^jF^'of solid and scriptural
piety. The following lifters to Wilberforce are fair
specimens of his usual-manner. The first of these
was written when he was yet a little boy.

" Dearest little boy,

^' As 1 was journeying near York last Saturday,
where should 1 suddenly find myself but in a little
village called Wilberforce^ as my driver and the
way-post informed me. 'Dear me,' said I to my
fellow-traveller, ' how a certain little lad of my ac-
quaintance, would be surprised and pleased had he
been in the chaise this moment.' So I got out and
walked up and down in Wilberforce, thinking and
talking about that said little lad. It is a pretty little
place. As I loved the name, both for your sake,
and for the sake of Henrietta's godfather ; I amused
myself with asking different people the name of
the place, and every body's answer was the same.
I asked an old man, ' What is this village called?'
' Wilberforce, an' please your reverence,' said he,
and so said all the rest ; and thus I pleased myself
with making a great many people speak your name,
till one of them said, ' 1 canna think wots the mat-
ter wi' the mon ; he made us aw say the same thing.
Mayhop the mon's a foo.' Now all that was the
matter with me, was that I loved you, and it quite
pleased me to hear your name when I so little ex-
pected it.

" On Thursday last I saw a gentleman and a
lady mount up in a balloon, a mile high into the air,
and after saihng there near an hour, they came
down again quite safe. On Saturday I went to see
the finest church in all England. It is more beau-
tiful than all the churches lever saw put together.
To-day I have visited the wonderful dropping well of
Knaresborough, which petrifies, after a time, what-
ever it touches. To-morrow I am going to see one

WILBERF0RC«^^^3aSr 4ut-''4>li2l|^OOD. . 141

- ■ ■*• ..

of the finest ruins in thekiogdom, Fountain's Ab-
bey. Look at your map, it is' near Ripon in York-
shire. This day I received a most beautiful letter
from the Russian Princess Sophia Metcsersky of St.
Petersburgh. I think I never had so pretty a letter.

What makes it so pretty? It is because it is about
Jesus Christ. Nothing i$ good, or\right^ or pretty
without him. He only is altogether lovely.

" I hope both your leg and your lessons go on

well. If they do, you must thank Mr. C for

the one and Mr. G. (to whom give my love) for the
other, and God for both. * * *

Last night, at ten o'clock, I sawthe Aurora Borealis,
like a white rainbow stretching all over the sky. —
On Monday I went to see the iron founders make
cannon. They melted the iron in a huge hot fur-
nace, it ran out along the ground like a little river
of liquid fire — very terrific!

" I have picked up many curious stones for the
museum. God bless you, my little boy, and God
bless HeniT. Tell him I love him, and I hope he
loves me. Kiss all your brothers and sisters for me,
and tell them all to be very good. Behave well to

d^ar mamma, and Mr. G , and so good bye

From your loving papa,

L. Richmond."

The following letter is of later date.

London,

" * * * Your dear mamma

has evidently improved in health by her visit to
town, which 1 therefore feel it riffht to lengthen,
that by freedom for a time from domestic labours
and hourly anxieties, she may, if God pleases, be the
better enabled to continue her numerous attentions
to you and her other children at home. You know
her great value to us all, and the day to which you

142 MR. .RICHMOND ^8 LETTERS TO

allude will stand as a lasting meniorial to us of the
loving-kindness of God.

'* On Tuesday last I went to Carlton Palace, with
four hundred graduates of the University of Cam-
bridge, to present an address of congratulation to
the Prince Recent on the marriage of his daughter.
It was a fine sight, and the splendour of the rooms
surprised me. We walked through St. James'
street and Pall Mall, two and two, in very long
procession, all dressed in the various university
robes. The Duke of Gloucester, one Archbishop
and nine bishops went first, all the rest in scarlet,
blue and gold, blue and silver, black and gold, black
gowns, &c. An imniense collection of carriages
and people on foot filled the streets to see the pro-
cession, which occupied three quarters of the length
of Pall Mall. We passed through seven grand and

f princely chambers, till at length we reached the
ast, in which the Resent, seated on his throne,
received us. The Duke of Gloucester delivered
the address, to which the Prince made a handsome
reply. We all successively made our obeisances,
and after remaining a short time to inspect the
beauty and grandeur of the different state apart-
ments, we returned, as we came to a cold collation
provided for the members of the university. The
Prince was surrounded by all the great officers of
state; and the whole effect was imposing and superb.
But fine and entertaining as was this scene of earth-
ly grandeur, what is a palace compared to a cot-
taffe, if the grace of God is in one and not in the
other? Earthly greatness is but dust, and will return
to dust. Grace alone will outlive it and then what
a palace will heaven be to those who are made kings
and priests for ever!

I have been to see the great panorama of
Waterloo. It is finely painted, but a very terrible
exhibition. I think nothing on earth so dreadful

WILBERFORCE IN HIS CHILDHOOD. 143

as the murder, fury, confusion, pain, and suffering
of a battle. £yen the picture fills me with sadness
and horror.

I have also seen a panorama of Jerusalem, very
inferior as a painting, but very interesting to my
mind, as portraying the place where Jesus Christ
taught, and sometimes lived in thedays of his flesh.
I stood upon the Mount of Olives, and looked
around me on Mount Zion, Gethsemane, Calvary,
Bethany, the valley of Jehoshaphat, the Brook
Kedron, the pool of Bethesda, the Wilderness, &c.
<&c. The ideas which arose in my mind affected
me deeply. I was moved to tenderness and tears,
as I looked back in thought upon years that are
past, and events with which is associated all that is
most dear to the Christian. And would they not,
my dear boy, have touched your heart ?

I am requested to preach an electrical sermbn :
that is, a sermon in behalfofa charitable institution,
called the electrical dispensary, for administering
medical electricity to the poor. Some'' of the
patients appear to be in a very wretched condition.
Out of 7800 persons, 3000 have been cured, 4000
greatly benfitted, and 800 discharged without
receiving any advantage from this kind of treat-
ment. I have been thinking that this will be a
very suitable text, "GOD is Light." Our greatest
gratification has been derived from attending the
public meetings of the religious and benevolent
institutions. OnCt and sometimes two are held in
a day. it is an unspeakable delight to see with
our ^es, and hear with our ears, what God is so
manifestly and so mercifully bringing to pass, by
the exertions of so many valuable societies.

Tell G to take care that all the usual and

necessary preparations be made for the club anni-
versary on Whit Friday. We hope to be in our
places on that day. Et jam vale, charissime puer ;

144 EARLY CHARACTER.

memor esto Dei omnipresentis, et patris nunc ab*
sentis,et matris tuae tenerrimsB pretiosissimae, delect-
issimsB. Te ipsum cum fratribus sororibusque in
votis habemus. Ora pro nobis, ora* Iterum iterum-
que vale.

Your affectionate father,

L. Richmond/'

Wilberforce inherited his father^s taste for the
.beauties of nature. In Mr. R.^s memoranda I find
a list of more than thirty places of natural magnifi-
cence which he visited with his son^ and reference
made to conversations and mutual delight, in a sur-
vey of the works of God. I regret that my guide
has only left me these traces of his footsteps in the
following notes.

^' His first visit to Matlock at four years old, his
ecstacy, and remarks, even then, on natural scenery.

^'Visited, &c. &c. &c. ; his admiration and de-
light while he stood lost in thought, and mused over
this exquisite scenery.

" Minerals of the Bible — his acquaintance with
their character — his affectionate disposition — his
conduct and feelings on the report of Nugent^s
death."

In the same paper he notes,

'^ His strict and honourable conduct — exempt
from many of the vices common to his age — his
confidential faithfulness — disposition to fastidious-
ness — mourned over his last illness,^' &c.

The following letter to a companion is the only
one of this character I shall offer the reader. It
will appear how completely Mr. R. had succeeded
in transfusing his own spirit and principle into the
mind of his beloved Wilberforce.

AND LETTERS. 145

"Dear-

*' 1 know nothing which I remember with more
pleasure than the hours we have spent together in
domestic music. I shall never regret the time I
have given to music, when I consider its tendency
to attach us to our delightful homes. We have in-
deed passed many happy hours together, none hap-
pier than those under your own roof. * * * I
have been delighted with the scenery of Scotland. I
have never seen any thing which has given m^ such
an idea of the wisdom and power of the Creator.
I do indeed admire the rugged grandeur of the
mountains, and the wild beauty of the heath, but I
still admire our own fertile plains ; * * *
* and after all no country can be so pleasant to
us as that to which we have been endeared from
our earliest infancy. Most anxiously, then, do I wish
once more to enjoy with you the sight of our native
village, with the river wandering peacefully through
the green meadows, and to revisit the scenes of our
boyish recollections. * * * I was

greatly pleased with my visit to London. The
greatest treat was the British Museum. The min-
erals are so exquisite, so beyond conception beauti-
ful and interesting. There is a very fine Museum
in Glasgow, and some beautiful specimens of mill*
erals in it. It has just received the addition of a live
rattle snake, which uses its tail in tremendous style,
and when disturbed is ready to revenge an aflfront.
* * * I shall probably astonish the Scotchmen
soon with the peculiarity and beauty of my visage,
for the hair dresser ^^ who cuts and curls my hair in
the last Parisian fasnion^) assures me that in a very
short time, I must have my head shaved, and ex*
change a few straggling locks for a wig. My pate
will look like a lump of coxcomb iron pyrites.^^

I would not weary my reader by dwelling on the
early character of Wilberforce, or detain him from

146 XARLT CHARACTER

details of higher interest ; the particulars I have
mentioned serve to show that true piety is perfectly
compatible with all that is innocent and rational in
our pursuits and recreations : that it cannot feirly
be ascribed to mere dulness or morbid sensibility, and
that it is not necessary to denounce a devout and
heavenly spirit, in order to establish a ckim tosu-
perioritv of sense or refinement.

I will now pursue the menioir into narrations
more immediately connected with my purpose ; the
illustration of Mr. R/s peculiar method in the re-
ligious education of his children, and the success
which attended his unremitted and conscientious
discharge of the duties of a Christian parent.

When Wilberforce was a little child, his father,
aware of the vast importance of early associations,
accustomed him to habits of religion, even before
be had a capacity to understand or value them. —
He consecrated to God his whole family in daily
prayers ; the infant in arms was present as a worship-

Ser, it might at first disturb the order of the family
evotion, but it soon learned silence, and seemed
pleased with the group before it. So long as it
could not speak he spoke for it ; he would hold it
in his arms saying, ^^ God be gracious to thee my
flon.^^ When Wilberforce could scarcely lisp in ac-
cents of prayer or praise, Mr. R. composed the follow-
ing little piece to be committed to memoiy, and re-
peated to his mamma every evening. In these sim-
ple lines nothing more was aimed at than a suita-
Dle vehicle o( instruction to an infant mind. It
breathes the same devout, tender, and affectionate
ipirit which pervades Mr. R.^s other productions.

WILBERFORCE'S EVENING ADDRESS TO MAMMA.

Mamma, 'tis Jesas loves my soal,
And makes the wounded sinoer wbiAe ;
My oature is by sin defiled,
Tet JesoB loves a Utile child.

«■■»

OF WILBBRFOECS. 147-

I kiMW my temper is not rig^ht,
I'm t>Aen fretful, scold and fig;ht,
I would like him be meek and mild.
For Jesus lovee a little child.

How kind is Jesus, oh ! bow good !
For my poor soul he shed his blood ;
For children's sake, he was reviled|
Tet Jesus lores a little child.

When I offend you by my tongue,

And say and do what's very wrong, •

O pray mamma be reconciled.

For Jesus lores your little child.

He teaches me to shed a tear.
Whene'er I grieve a friend so dear ;
But though I am so thoughtless, wild.
Yet Jesus loves the little- child...

To me may Jesus now impart ^

Although so young, a gracious heart ;
Alas! I'm oft by sin defiled.
Yet Jesus loves the little child.

And Hove Him, for he loves me,
And hope his faithful child (o be ;
The Sinner's Friend he's justly styled.
And Jesus loves your little child."

The following letter to his little boy on his birth-
day, is of the same character.

<* It was early this mom, as I waked from my rest.

An unusual emotion sprung up in my breast.

The occasion of this, do you wish to be told ?

'Tis my little boy's birth-day — ^he's just four years old*

Foolish father ! cries one, is this all you can say.
Is this to disturb all your feelings to-day?
Yes-— and were yeu a father, you would not feel eold.
On your little boy.'e birth-day, when just four years old.

Old maidens and bachlort who no children have,
Your patience 1 ask, for your pardon I crave.
While this child to my heart I so warmly enfold,
Oq tlMUtti* boy's birtli-dAy»wlu»*i just iowr yecn old.

1-*

148 wilbeeforce's • earlt

Te mothers, who clatp yoar desr babes in y«iir anoff.
And watch o^er their youtb with a thousand alarms^
Set your^s down for one instant, my child to behold,
Tis the little boy's birth-day, he's just four years old.

-^ Te that doat on your own lads can feel for another's,
And bear with the fondness of fathers and mothers,
I invite your attendance, so deem it not bold,-~
'Tis the little boy's birthday, he's just four years old.

He can prattle and talk, with a sweet little «mile,
Wftich my heaviest moments will often beguilie;
So I vnlue him more than ten millions twice told :
Tis my liltle boy's birth day, he's just four years old.

Dear wife, on whose breast the dear babe faung^ so long^^
Shall my muse on this day, forget thee in her song;
Come and kiss the poor lad, and rejoice to be told
'Tis your little boy's birth-day— he's just four years old.

My sweet boy ! Tve been writing these verses for you.
They shew more of the father than poet^ 'tis true!
Yet in spite of the critics, papa will be bold :
Little boy tis your birth- day — you'r just four years old.

May the blessing of God in abundance poured down.

Give thee grace while on earth, and in glory a crown ;

As thou growest in years, may thy virtues unfold,'

'Tis my prayer on thy birth day, when just four years old.'^

The incidents of childhood are seldom interest-
ing beyond the family circle, neither can much reli-
ance be placed on early appearances of piety un-
tried by temptation. It may be well to cherish everjr
holy emotion in our children ; to water and<^ulti-
vate the tender plant committed to our care ;
but until influence and impression is succeeded by
principle and the choice of the mind, we may re-
joice in the buddings of divine life, but we must not
indulge in too sanguine expectations. The scep-
tical tendencies of Wilfeerforce^s mind in childhood,
are by no means of rare occurrence at that age ;
for infidelity, notwithstanding its arrogant preten-
sions to superiority, is the vulgar weed which ^ows
in every soil, and withers before the sunshine of

CHARACTER ANB VIEWS. 149

clearer mfiEMination; a little knowledge may help
to an objection, when diligent and serious inquirj
will discover its futility.

There is one note in Mr. Richmond's paper8»
which refers to Wilberforce's conduct and feelinM
on receiving the report of his brother's death, u
is probable he shared his father's anguish in that
mournful event — uncertain as they both were of
Nugent's spiritual welfare, and fearing the worst*
from all that was then known of his past conduct
They had heard nothing of those satisfactory testi-
monies to his conversion, which afterwards cheered
and relieved their minds. A concern for the ever-
lasting welfare of another, is no small evidence of
our own sincerity in the pursuit of eternal life ; and,
I have no doubt that Wilberforce had, at that time,
made a progress in true religion, greater than his
extreme reserve warranted his friends to conclude.
His respect for piety, the deep attention with which
he listened to instruction, the satisfaction which he
displayed in communicating to others what he seem-
ed to understand himself, and his uniform good cod>
duct and general conformity to the habits of a re-
ligious family, induced his father to hope " all was
well with him," though he was too deeply impress*
ed with the infinite value and necessity of a sound
conversion to God, to rest satisfied with any thing
short of a full and explicit declaration on the part
of his child.

Wilberforce had ever expressed a decided f»e-
ference for the ministry, which rendered it, in Mr.
R.'s judgment, the more necessary that he should
possess a piety the most decided and unequivocal.
To become by profession an ambassadorfor God to
a guilty world, without credentials^ ifM justly re-
garded by hifln as a profane intrasiofiiDto an oflGk^
of immense responsibility; and he baa been beanl
to say that * he would rather follow his 9Q9ljf^ tba

14*

• ■^■■-- ■

c
150 i, LITTER TO 1^

trave thi^see him in the church without being
tted for such a sacred office/'*
The sentiments of both will be best expressed in
the following correspondence. The first letter was
written from Stockport, in Lancashire, when Wil-
berforce was eleven years old.

Dear Willy,
'* Are you indeed a good boy during my absence 1
Shall I have no cause for heart-ache on my return,
when i ask how my child has behaved ? How he
has obeyed his mamma ? How he has attended to
his lessons? How he has submitted to his sister^s
instructions? How he has conducted himself to-
wards Mr. G ^ ? How he has adhered to truth in

his words? How^e has set H -. a good example?

Shall I be comforted with the glad tidings, that your
heart and yourconscience,and your ways, all seem to
partake of a happy influence? that you throw away
all indolence of mind and body? that you actively pur-
sue learning and gain it? that your brother improves
every day through the effect of your good behaviour?
that you seldom or ever quarrel, snap, or snarl at
him? that you pray to God to forgive your sins and
hourly offences ? Shall I be told that you have

Erepared a happy return home for papa, by his
earing all this good of you, when he comes back ?
Do the four walls of your little chamber bear wit-
ness to your prayers and supplications for yourself
and me ? Do the sun^s rays as they early penetrate
your window in the morning, find you active to rise,

*The expression of Mr. Richmond is a strong one, though in
perfecl unison with the sentiments and feelings of the Editor.-^
Mr. R. must not, however, be mistaken, as if he connected his
child's death with eternal consequences. There can be no doubt
that he intended to lay, he should feel the death of his child a less
mfllicting dispensation than his profaning aholy ordinance, and,
by ignorance or neglect, inyolying immortal souls in everlasting
destraGtioo.

> HIS SON. .''^- 151

to read, to labour^ and to grow in grace? * *
* * * I have seen some beautiful counties
since I left you. Staffordshire is full of beauty.
Lichfield cathedral too, which though much smaller
than York Minster, is' a verjt fine building; I
attended divine service there, the organ notes rolled
sublimely along the vaulted arches, pillars, and
roof. The exquisitely painted windows assimilated
to the sounds, and rendered the efiect most enchant-
ing. The spires are beautiful, and large sums have
been laid out in repairing and restoring them.

**One evening I travelled with a friend in a gig
for three troufs, amidst the never ceasing distant ^
lightning. The whole western hemisphere was in a
constant blaze. The flashes alternated from one
point of the horizon to another, distant about forty-
five degrees from each other ; sometimes the flashes
were silvery, sometimes yellow, then orange
colour ; one white sheet-like, and again so vivid,
that we seemed to have a peep into more distant
regions of space ; then more faint, now and then
we heard slight rumblings ; then all was silent again.
At one point the flashes gleamed on the ruins of a
distant castle which appeared all on fire ; a dark
forest lay behind, and it formed a fine coatrast.
Sometimes the forked flashes pursued one another
in a kind of playful progress ; at others they dashed
at each other as if in terrible combat ; all this passed
between seven and ten in the evening.

^^ But what are these lightnings, compared with
those which made Moses quake and tremble at
Mount Sinai, or what were even these contrasted
with the lightnings of God^s wrath against sinners?
These appearances of nature are striking emblems
of Divine justice. You have need to flee from the
wrath to come. Repent, for the kingdom of heaven
is at hand. The wicked and all the people that for-
get God, shall be turned into hell. Dear Willfi if

153 MR. richxovd'8 lettjers.

you forget him, what will be ^our portion ? If you
MT that you do not forget iiiin, how do yoil prove
it?

Video meliora proboqa«
Deteriora sequor,

if the character of too many nominal ChristiancL I
would not have it to be your^s ; an enlightened coi^
verted mind ; with eyes and tongue to approve what
is right, but the feet walking in the paths of eviL
A converted heart alone will enable you to follow
his steps, who is '* the way, the truth, and the life/'
^ I sincerely hope that you are beginning to be
^WnAj sensible of the evil and danger of sin, and the
'jMcessity of seeking God betimes. Occasional ii^
dbposittons should remind you, that yoii ipay never
arrive at man's estate. If you are to die a boy, we
must look for a boy's religion, a boy's knowledge,
a boy's faith, a boy's Saviour, a boy's salvation ; or
else a boy's ignorance, a boy's obstinacy, a boy's
unbelief, a bo^^s idolatry, a boy's destruction. Re-
member all this, and beware of sin ; above all dread
the sinfulness of an estranged heart. Pray for a
new one ; pray for grace and pardon, and a soul
conformed to the image of Christ ; pray for wis-
dom, for the destruction of pride, vain conceit, and
self-sufficiency. Be not slothful in business, but
fervent in spirit, serving the Lord. * Friends here
inquire after you, in the full hope that you are going
on well, creditably, obediently, industriously, hum-
biy and Christianly. Love to all, from

Your afibctionate Father,

L.IL"

What reply was made by Wilberforce to this
letter does not appear; his repugnance to a fi^
nd unreserved communication on the subject of
penKmal religion, seems notto have been overcome
tiU\ nevly U)ut yean after, though bis anxious

■■*.

WILBERFORCE^S LETTERS. 153

father longed to elicit something on this point more
satisfactory than could be collected from a general
acquiescence in the opinions and habits of the
faniily. A letter written by Wilbcrforce to his father
in 1821, discloses a mind under the influence of
more distinct views, and stronger feelings breaking
through the fetters of natural reserve.

"My dear Father,
" You will believe me, when I say, that I entirely
and most thoroughly agree with you, ^ that it is time
we should communicate frequently, intimately, and
confidentially/ I feel very thankful that you havel
so plainly declared your thoughts and determina-
tion concerning me ; I know my inability to answer
you in the way you wish, but I rejoice in an oppor-
tunity of telling you what my thoughts have been
and still are in respect of the most important sub-
ject of your inquiry. I deeply regret that a false
shame has hitherto deterred me from an open
avowal of my sentiments and feelings. I will
honestly confess to you, that I have never seriously
considered the subject of the ministry till within the
last few months. Brought up from my infancy with
the expectation of becoming a clergyman, and
accustomed as I have been to think and speak of it
as my future profession, I have been little aware of
the difficulty, and have not suflSciently considered
the responsibility of the office which I hoped would
one day be mine. You know how much this pros-
pect has pleased me all through my childhood. I
have had many fears and alarms about my sinful
state, but they soon faded away. The impression
has never been permanent till dear little Atherton
died. At that time it pleased God to awaken in me
a deeper sense of my dangerous condition, and I
prayed very earnestly that God would pardon m^
sins for Christ Jesus^ sake, and that the Holy Spirit

154 WILBSftfOECB^S LfiTTERS.

would renew my heart Then I fell into another
error, for It began to triut myself instead of the
Saviour. I thouflbt I was now proof against temp-
tation, and had the presumption to suppose m^OBelf
fit for the ministry. But I was awfully deceived.
There arose soon after in my mind many doubts of
the authenticity of the scriptures. Wherever I
went, or whatever I was doing, these doubts
haunted me. I found that I could not, I dared not

Eray. At first I repulsed these suggestions with
orror, but tbey graaually laid so fast hold of me,
that they destroyed all my peace. When engaged
in my studies, that which was often ascribed to idl^
n€»s, was really occasioned by the state of my
mind, which was so perplexed that I could not at-
tend to other things ; even my pleasures were
damped by uneasiness. I have no doubt that if I
Had beenjn some situations, I should have become
a determined infidel. I tremble, dear papa, while
I write thus ; and when I look back and think of
my situation at that time, I cannot feel sufficiently
thankful that my life was spared, and that I was
not cut ofi* from God for ever, I found that I had
trusted in ipy own strength, that I had neglected
prayer, and while I contmued in that neglect, I
could not reasonably expect the removal of these
distressing searchin|[s of heart. It was with some
difficulty I could brmg myself on my knees again.
I was fearful that God would not hoar me. But I
read the Bible for encouragement, and 1 found it
there.. By continual prayer I was directed to the
means of relief, and I have not been troubled with
one more doubt since that time. Indeed, I cannot
but believe that the death of our poor little Atherton
was blest to me. It afiected me more than any
conversation or other event, and more than any one
knew; I have never lost the impression.

4 k

•v

«r

WILBBBFORCB^S LBTTXRS. - 155

**Yet I cannot feer comfortable in becoming a
minister of Christ in my present state of mind. My
conscience would be uneasy, if 1 presumed to ISU
an t>ffice, whose functions are so far above my
ability or piety ; but I earoestly pray that God may
give me such a measure of his grace, as may in
some degree fit me to become an unworthy, but
true servant of the Lord Jesus Christ.

'^ Having now freely and confidently told you
what has been passing in my mind, I lie in your
hands, and trust you will pardon any error of ex-
pression or sentiment which may appear in my letter,
and that you will correct whatever you see wrong
in me. Receive, my dear papa, my confidence, as
the strongest mark of afiection and gratitude whicb
can be given by your afiectionate, but unworthy
son, Wilberforcb/'

I have no documents to trace the progress of this
interesting boy, during an interval of near two
years. Able and pious tutors attended to his im-
provement in literature, and by their conversation
and example, aided his progress in religion ; which,
though still of a reserved character, was doubtless
sincere and increasing.

In 1823, Mr. Richmond was in Glasgow, from
whence he wrote to his son as follows :

^*My very dear Wilberforce.
*' I am very gl jd that Hartwell Home proves so
acceptable to you. * # * # ♦

I cannot express my anxieties on your account,
both as they respect your Christian principles, and
your future prospects as connected with the minis*
try. We must indeed become still more communi-
cative and confidential, or the burden on my heart
will become heavier than I can bear. It has lon^
been the first wbh of my mind, that you should be

156 LBTTUi 10-WItBfjrOKCK.

aminiater of (be gospel, but only, and entirety, abd-t
unequivocaUy, without partiaUty, and ivithout hy-

Socrby, as yoar porsonal charajcter, experience, and
etermination might be formed on a serious, affec-
tionate, conscientious, ^nd prayerful foundation. I
want to see my loved boy^ first a true Ciiristian, and
then B true niiDi^ter. Oh I may, God hear my
prayers on this iohject. . For this I cry day and
night, — and unworthy as I am of such a blessing,

Jet I will trust him for it, and I would wrcBtle like
Bcob until I attain it. But you must wrestle too,
yea, and with all your heart, all your mind, all your
|0i|], and all your strength. You mifst study your
-pirn heart; you should not only study the scrip-
. tores, but keep in reading some searching experi-
nie^tal book as a bosom companion. A love of
V'iBcb reading, at least no alienation from it, proves
.'fwefiil test of character. # * * *

■ 4*- .. * * I am glad to hear yoo give your-
'/ieir more regularly and resolutely to study. I have
often had fears of indolence and inactivity, those
banes of all progress, proficiency, and hope. I
Bhall indeed rejoice tpfind that the bonds are broken,
• * # • *

Theology itself, important as are its themes and
communications, sinks into mere science or literary
attainment, unless founded upon, and accompanied
by, a devotional and affectionate application of its
principles to the soul.

" It is much easier to be a divine than a Christian
— an ecclesiastic than a pastor. ¥ou may be little
aware how much more truth and wisdom dwell in
some cottages and hearts at Turvey, than in many
a house, and in many a mind, in which superior
advantages seem to prevail, and even where real
religion is known and respected. I Ion;; for the day
when you and 1 may not only comfortably and con-
fidently converse on these subjects, on things which

LETT^ T»=TriLBKJlFOtlCE. 10/

belong f* our evCiUstisg peace, our prospects in
time and etcrniij'ibat wheayot; take such ashsre
in my prik-aie parochial interiioiirse wiih the paritti-
toners, aa may IcaVe.no doubt of your being one
with us. Hut (hen it tm«t be previously manifest
that you are consistent and irr eflrnCBt, and that you
have not only pfit away chi1diih>;|p)Kes and TaultB,
but are living and not nsfiamedto live, under the
influence of higher principles. I want you to aid
me efieclually in ihe instruction of poor children,
in visiting the sick, in conversing with.the poor. If
yonareto beidmiuister, youshould now commence ''
your seven years' apprenticeship to ihe holy office.- ■-
But then your conduct must be uniform, simple, -
consistent. The reproach of the cross must in
some measure be encountered, and the Jove of
Christ in the heart put to some satisfactory lest. — ■
Think of these things, and write to me about lliem.
Let me have the comfort of knowing more of yoar
mind. Our present interval of separation may be a
time of much salutary communication. 1 would say
in the language of Solomon, " My son, give me thy
heart ;" but first give it to God. You are arrived at
an age when many dangerous temptaltons will as-
sail you, and you will be put to the proof whether
your heart is right with God, and if you are thrown
upon the world and its seductions, more than, hap-
pily, has hitlierto been needed or sought, you will
find indeed that it Iteth in wickedness, multiplied,
subtle, and appalling. May you, my dear son, be
preserved in your youth, and when old, never
depart from the way in which you have been trained.
" You must in a very especial manner consider
the daily influence of your temper, conduct, and
conversation upon your brothers and sisters. An
elder brotiier is usually the blessing or a curse of a
household. You never knew, or will know, what
1 sufiered on poor Nugent's account ; but God baf
l5

t .

• . •

158 WILBBBr$»RC&\| LKTrnCRS.

I trust in mercy over-raled for eventual good, what'
seemed to threaten nought but eviK May the course
of your youth be very different, and may yoii con-
tribute to heal the remains of former wounds inflict-
ed on my parental feelings.

" Write soon, fop letters are long in coming to
me. Give a vory affectionate message to my
much-loved parishoners, and do assure them how
closely 1 bear them on my heart's remembrance. —
Love to all. God bless you my dear children, yes,
God bless you all. There ik a certain store of
love in this house, from which is xlrawn a re-
spectable portion to be conveyed to Turvey. —
Take it, and use it well. Assemble the brotherhood
and sisterhood, and kiss them in their succes-
sion, telling them it is a proxy from one who
loves them well, and that one is their afiectionate
Father.

Legh Richmond.^'

The following extract, which connects this cor-
respondence, was written by Wilberforce to his father
in the same year and during the same journey to
Scotland.

" * * * * 1 have thought and con-
sidered a great deal on the contents of your last
letter ; I read it, I assure you, with many tears, but
they were tears of love to you, and of sorrow that
I fell so far short of your wishes and reasonable
expectations. You say you wish me first to be a
true Christian, and then a true minister ; believe
me, when I say, that though it is the first, the
nearest, and the dearest wish of my heart, I would
not have a desire, not the slightei^^dcfsire of enter-
ing the church in an unfit state of miiuL I would rath-
er engage in the meanest occupatioQ erf life, than be
a disgrace to the religion of (Thrist, by entering into

WILBERFORCB^'S UTTKRS. 159

^»

the holy profession whife^ aon unfit for it. When
I look at the apostles bf old, and mark hcviv full
they were of love to Christ and their fellow-creatures;
or when I look to good men of our own day who
tread in their steps, 1 shrink from assuming a pro-
fession for which I cannot but know myself most
unworthy. I am conscious of being a great sinner,
and I seem to myself utterly incompetent to be
more than a humble disciple in the church of God.
But I know that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth
from all sin, and his Spirit can enable me, sinful as
I am, to love and serve him. I have much to be
thankful for. I ought to be thankful that 1 am

Eermitted to think about these things. At times I
ave felt very happy in prayer and reading the
Scriptures. My joy has been such, that 1 seemed
ready not only.io love God, but give up all the
world for his saW; then again the cares and plea-
sures of life have laid hold of me, and sunk me in-
to sorrow.

" Pray for me, my dear father, that my wavering
mind may be fixed in the paths of truth, and may
choose that better part, which when once obtained,
shall never be taken away from me ; and may God
direct me to that profession of life, in which 1 may
most promote his glory, and my own good, and
that of my fellow creatures."

The following year Wilberforce was attacked
with a dangerous illness, which terminated in his
death.

A journey to Scotland was recommended, with a
view to consulLjJr. " . , whose method of treating
pulmonary diseiatse'^pvas supposed to have succeedea
in many instai^q^sL ^- '

Mr. R. erigiige<} ja small cottage at Rothsay, in
the Isle of Bujte* at a«convenient distance from this
physician ^fl iiBidtnQi. From hence he made fre

150 LETTER^ FROM SCOTLAlTiy;

quent excursions by sea and land, in the hope, by a
change of scene and air, to check the progress of
the disorder. It appears by the following letter to
his curate, that he had not yet despaired of his
son's recovery, but being at once the nurse, the
father, and the spiiitual guide of his dear boy, he
was making every effort on his be^ialf, and diligent-
ly employing the means prescribed by the physi-
cian.

Mr DEAR Friend, and brother.

" If the date of this letter may seem to betoken
inattention to my promise, or a wrong estimate of
yourvaluable services during my absence from
home, I rely on your friendship and candour to
ascribe my silence to other causes. 1 have been
almost daily, from morning to night, sailing about
with my dear boy upon sea and river, and neither
the motion of the steam-boats, nor the lassitude felt
at night after such voyages, are favourable to epis-
tolary duties. But 1 can triily say, that my heart's
best prayers and recollections have been with you,
and this poor scrawl is meant to tell you so. Yon
well know likewise that anxiety within, added to
external causes will easily unhinge the energy of
the mind, and produce a kind of constitutional
incapacity and indisposition to duty itself. But
neither let my friend nor my flock for a moment
conceive that they are forgotten. During many an
hour, as I have been floating on the waves, pacing
the mountains and glens, admiring the islands and
the rocks, tracing the progress of sun or moon upon
the ocean or landscape, and amidst alK fixing an
anxious and aflfectionate look upon our dear invalid
as he sat by my side ; during many such an hour
have I dwelt with solicitude and regard on (he
domestic and parochial scenery of Turvey, — dear
Turvey, where so many sweet pledges, both of

UTTKR FROM 8C0TLAN]>. 1B|

rrc*

natural and spiritual love reside, — where my poor
boy was born and trained up with brothers and
sisters no less loved than himself. Our intercourse
and conversations under existing circumstances, are
deeply interesting to me. He is upon the whole
in cheerful spirits, and the air of this delightful island
particularly suits him. I am just returned from a
hill-walk with him, of a mile and a half, and have
been surprised at the degree of strength which he
evinced. The general symptoms are just now, I
think, more favourable. Still there are evident
marks of deep-rooted disease, and I am often much
perplexed by the fluctuations in his case. It is one
in which I feel it wrong either to encourage over-
sanguine expectations of permanent amendment, or
to give way to any over-desponding sensations as
to the result. Happily he is without pain, and in
many respects he enjoys himself. He delights in
the scenery around us, which is in the highest de-
gree magnificent and beautiful. He enters with
his wonted taste into mineral and geological exam-
inations, and wanders gently by the sea-side, hunt-
ing for pebbles, animals, shells, sea-weed, &c. and
1 wander with him. Sometimes a little exertion
fatigues him, at other times he bears considerably
more without complaining. He has been a thou*
sand miles on the water since we left London, and
sailing always agrees with him. I have every
reason to be satisfied with the plan we are pursu-
ing. It much contributes to his strength and
comfort, and peace of mind; and to say the least,
has checked the weakening effects of the disorder,
and mingled encouragement with apprehensions
Ivhicli might otherwise have gained daily grounds
He is evidently thinking very seriously and rightlft'
about his state, and our Christian conversation forms
DO small part of my comfort, and I trust I may add,
of his comfort also. Whatever may be God's will,

15*

tOtr

WILBERFORCB^S LETTERS.

1 feel satisfied that the present dispensation is profi-
table to us both. May he confirin and increase
our hope. I am much gratified by the accounts
which I receive of your very auspicious commence-
ment of ministerial labours at Turvey, and bjeg'you
to feel assured of the value 1 put on them. Go on
my dear friend, in the strength of the Lord, and
may you pursue the arduous career of holy exerti^p,
in public and in private, to your own comfort, the

flory of God, and the good of my dear flock. Make
nown how affectionately I feel towards them, —
how earnestly I desire their prayers, and how sin-
cerely 1 remember them in mine. My not writing
to them at an earlier period has arisen entirely
from the constant occupation and anxiety which
have monopolized my lime and my feelings. —
Wilberforce thanks you for your kind letter. 1
hope he will soon feel able to answer it. Dear
boy ! — he talks with hope of returning to Turvey
with amended health, and telling you in person how
much he enjoyed the scenery of the North. Pray
for him and me, that we may lay in our heavenly
Father^s bosom like children, and wait his pleasure
like believers. You will not forget the other dear
boys, — they are in your hands for good, and may
God bless you to them all. Give them my blessing,
and let them convey it to all at the Rectory. Be-
lieve me,

Your^s affectionately,

L. R.*'

Much of what I should have detailed has been
introduced into the memoir of Mr. Richmond. Two
ooly of Wilberforce^s letters remain ; the first of
these was written to bis brother H.

•

WILBERFORCE'd LETTERS. 19

" Mr DEAR H. . .

•

" I did not think when I parted from you, that J
should be as well as I am, for I feel very much bet-
ter. Sickness and separation have attached me
more to you, and to my home, and to all that are in
it Sickness, as is usual, has brought sorrow for its
companion, but I trust I do not sorrow as one with-
out hope. My illness has proved a warning to me,
and it may also be a warning to you. You saw me
brought down in a very short time, from a state of
health and strength, to one of weakness and debility;
and all our natures are alike, equally fragile, equally
transient. Uncertain is every tie which binds us to
life, and therefore it is my prayer, that you, no less
than myself, may look forward to our latter end, and
not neglect opportunities of attending more closely
to the things which belong to our everlasting peace,
and guarding against the increasing fascinations of
a world that lieth in wickedness. * * # »j

The second letter was a reply to his Father's
instructions and preparations for the Lord's Supper.

" My DEAR Father,

" I thank you for the kind letter you wrote to me
on the subject of the Sacrament. I could not have
received one which would have more truly con-
vinced me of your affection and desire for my spir-
itual welfare. Oh ! may God give an answer to
your prayers and desires on my behalf, and may
you see me walking humbly and sincerely in that
narrow path which leads to life eternal. 1 hav9
thought much on the conteitts of your letter, and
have been deeply affected. At first I was discour-
aged by a sense of unworthiness, and shrunk from
the thought of approaching the Lord's table. It
then struck me, that even if I bad not attained all I

104 wi&BsmroEcs^s lbttbils.

desired, I might still venture with a humble and
priyerful spirit, and an entire dependence on
tibrist I tnought also, that if I neglected attend-
ance, I should be dishonouring the Saviour by a
refusal of an appointed means of grace ; and I do
hope that by presenting myself to Christ in his own
ordinance, I may be confirmed and strengthened in
my faith, and helped on to fulfil the vows made at
my baptism, and fight manfully under Christ ^s ban-
ner against the world, the flesh, and the devil. I
would, then, my dear Father, put on the garb of
humility, and go and kneel, as the very lowest of his
disciples, at'the foot of the cross of Jesus, and com-
memorate with gratitude his cross and passion, his
glorious resurrection and ascension, — on the merit
of which alone are fixed all my hopes in this world
and the next. How thankful do J feel that I may
Itneel at the foot of the cross. Oh ! where besides
Oould I wish to stretch out my aching limbs and die.

" 1 suppose my journey will make some delay in
your intentions, but if I return with renewed health
and strength, I would consider that in receiving the
sacrament, I give a pledge to God and you, to
devote myself, soul and body, to the promotion of
the divine glory. But if I should not return in
health, and if it should seem fit to the Almighty to
shorten my life, yet if he will renew my soul by hig
Holy Spirit, Oh I how unspeakable a blessing to
• wing my flight from sin and sorrow.

"If I were certain ofliis favour, and my own
change of heart, J should only wish to see my Sav-
iour face to face, and praise and love him for ever.
^^ I have written hastily, but as long as I could with-
t0Wk ^^ fatigue, a short, but I assure you a sincere letter.

Your affectionate

WlLBERFORCE.^'

MR. RICHMOND'S LETTER. 198

The closing scene ofWilberforce will be detai^pd
by one who loved him dearly, and was a witness of
his latter moments. Mr. Richmond had desired
his daughter to note down the events and conver-
sations of the sick chamber, and refers to them in
the following letter.

My dearly loved F.

''I have been very unwell with a swelled face,
accompanied by high fever ; and though better, am
still an invalid ; but this illness is sent for some
good end to my soul, I desire to investigate that
end in a right spirit. The fire at Turvey has done
much mischief, and is indeed a gefneral calamity.
I wish you to relieve the sufferers. You may dis-
tribute for me both money and clothing. I shall be
able to decide better on my return, what sum to
subscribe. May we know how to glory fy God in
the fires.

"Poor ! although her evidences were faint,

I thought them genuine. I have seen many such
cases and despair not. God often permits the
signs of true faith to appear very feeble, when,
nevertheless, the soul still cleaves to the Saviour,
in the midst of many causes of suspicion and per-
plexity. Some are saved, "yet so as by fire.''
Happy they who are saved at all.

" I hope you have a long manuscrif^t of recol-
lections concerning our beloved Wilberforce. I
depend upon it. Employ speedily some hours in
preparing for me all you know relative to that
eventful period. I still shed many tears in the re-
membrance of that dearly-loved boy. I have feel-
ings which never leave me for two hours together*
They mingle with all my cheerful, and all my pen-
give moments. I have particular reasons for delay-
ing to write the memoir, but fully intend to do iU

MB ME. RICHMOND'S LETTER.

^ I have been at Cambridge. The recognition
iDf many old friends from all parts of England, has
much interested me. Indeed, associations con*
nected with former days, have quite overpowered
Bie. The older I grow, the more acutely 1 feel
everr thing.

** Take care of too frequent intercourse with the
world. I write with a heart full of love, but I must
caution you. There is nothing more dangerous to
young Christians than indiscriminate intercourse
with persons of no religion. It is far more likely
that we should receive evil, than impart good, in
such society. I have experienced this too much
myself on many occasions, not to feel it keenly.
Prudence and prayer are then especially needful ;
for we may more easily conform to the world, than,
bring the world to conform to us. Happy they
who have the least to do with it, except in the way
of absolute duty and necessity. 1 often reflect with
gratitude on the blessing which God has given to
the retired habits and education of my two boys,
W — and H — , one in heaven and one still on earth.
To their seclusion 1 ascribe their simplicity and
happy ignoraiice of many evils. Premature ac-
quaintance with the wickedness of the world —
{and there is no knowing the world without coming
in contact with its wickedness) — has ruined thou-
sands of hopeful young men, and has multiplied the
miseries oC the hopeless.

" I long for our early morning readings. Latin,
Greek, and Mathematics, are a very small and in-
ferior part of learning, particularly for the Christian
ministry. While heads are filling, hearts are

withering. Give my afiectionate love to dear ;

next to my own boys I do indeed love him. 1 long
to see more of an unreserved and experimental

communication between him and H . 1 have

numberless feelings about their intercourse which 1.

MR. EICBKOND^S LBTTSR.

do not utter, and yet I know not why ; but this I
know, that I have you all in my heart; but that
heart will soon turn to dust. There is a better
heart in heaven. I would have all my dear children
enclosed in it.

" Give the children of the Sunday School aiiew
subject, that they may search for texts to prove it

" Farewell, dearest F . 1 lament ipany

things, but most of all that I am not worthy to be
called V

V'our affectionate Father,
V : L. R.'»

Mr. R. was evidently ripening for heaven. The
tenderness, the deep piety of his loving spirit, the
weanedness of his heart from the world, and his
earnest desire to transfuse his devout feelings unto
the minds of all who wer^ connected with him,
discover an assimilation to a purer region, and
might have prepared us to expect that his departure
was not far distant. The documents to which he
alludes, are contained in the following communica-
tion, which I commend to the serious and attentive
perusal, both of young persons and their parents.

168 WILBKRrORCE^S LIK.

CHAPTER VII.

■«

Here were two eouls knit t ba tfl yfelf 'fethg soul of one man;
What there u of present separAU&wiUlHi»-bAl for a little wlgU«.

" My very dear

*' In compliance with your timuest, I send you
the chief incidents of our brother's closing scene ;
his conversations with my dear father, and other
members of his family, and a few of the letters
which were written during that mournful period.
You may rely on the accuracy of the whole. My
father had intended to have published a memoir of
Wilberforce, and with that view he desired me to
make memoranda of whaX passed at the time. He
told me more than once, that the blessing which
seemed to attend the perusal of his little tracts,
encouraged him to put on record the piety of his
son ; which he considered to be no less honourable
to God, and consoling and strengthening to young
Christians, than that of the Dairyman's Daughter,
or the Young Cottager. He thought that Willy's
training for eterntty might be read with equal ad-
vantge, and might assist both in imparling clear
views of religion, and in relieving the mind from
the fears and anxieties which often distress and
hfl(rass young Christians in the prospect of death.
*To know that others have been perplexed with
the same doubts, alarmed by the same fears, ani-
mated by the same hopes, comforted by the same

THE LATTER DATS 169

promises, and directed by the same precepts,' he
used to say, 'demonstrate a holy identity in the
influence of the gospel and the effects produced by
it, and may comfort the trembling sinner, and
confirm the most advanced believer.'

" There are a number of papers in toy father's
hand- writing, renting to my brother's charactei^ and
dying hours, which ase. indeed so unconnected and
unfinished, ihsipcgrCGiy any use can now b^ made
of ^m ; but tteyiilKM hoxV* interesting a detail the
memoir would be1^£f^ in his hands. He would
sit for hours in hi8*M|^i perusing and adding to
these fragments; b«',|be excess of feeling and
mental agitation, which -the contemplation and
reminiscence of the past never failed to renew,
greatly impaired his health, and forced hiio to lay
aside his purpose.

" In one of the papers alluded to, we found the
following remarks in his own- hand. * I have never
given up the design of writing his memoir, and
every day's meditation has prepared me for it. But
whenever I begin, my spirits sink, my eyes are
full of tears, and I lay aside my papers to a more
convenient season, when I may be able to write
with more calmness. Alas ! this is my weakness.'

" Wilberforce had always been my dear father^s
companion in his literary and philosophical pursuits.
From his childhood his chief pleasures and recrea-
tions were in the study ; and he used to retire to
the museum to make experiments with the air-pump,
or electrical machine, or read some book of science,
while the other boys were engaged in their sports..
As he advanced in years, he employed his leisure
hours more especially in the study of mineralogy •>.
and geology. This congeniality of mind and pur-
suit contributed to form the strong attachment
which subsisted between my father and Wilber-^
force, and indeed rendered the one almost an integidl

170 TSS I^TTER DAYf

part s^ the other. My dear father had a peculiar
taknt for Aonnecting science with religion, and
Witt^erforce seemed more than his other children
tot afford him materials for successfid cultivation.

^ In my father's miscellaneous papers we find the
following short notes, evidently written in reference
Co the projected memoir. ^ Early intellectual con-
versation, great general reading, strong turn for
reasoqing and ai^^ument, deep and close investi^-
tion of philosophical questions, acquaintance with
subjects of political economy, love of natural his-
tory, insects, mineralogy, g^dogy, classics, mathe-
matics. My wish and endeavour has been to
cultivate philosophical pursuits in connection with
religion, with my children, as recreations, instead
<^ allowing and encoura^ng the trifling and often
pernicious amusements of the world. I have found
my plan answer in his case.'

'' Our dear father has succeeded in making his
home dear to all his children. Home was never
talked of without emotion by any of them. They
left it with regret They returned to it vrith the
fondest affection, and connected vdth it every en-
dearing association. No patriot Israelite ever sang
of the place of his nativity with more enthusiasm,
" Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if
I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy." Our
beloved parent's integrity and uniform consistency
engaged our esteem, and the multiplied resources of
innocent gratification which surrounded us, won
our regard.

" As Wilberforce grew up, he was considered by
the whole family as the one marked out to fill his
father's place in the church, and to his relatives.
He became an object of interest to all ; and to none
was he more endeared than to his loving parent,
who clung to him with deeper affection each suc-
ceeding year.

OF WILBBRFORCE. 171

^ In the spring of 1824, when he had retic^ his
seventeenth year, we were first alarmed fi>r huf
health. He took cold from a wet ride, ttnd' a digbt
cough succeeded. One morning in the im>ntk';pf
May, my father discovered symptoms of hisi having
ruptured a blood-vessel. His fears were gr^fltly
awakened, as appears from a note in his papers.
^ As I looked on him that morning I felt a shock
which seemed to shatter me to the very soul, and I
have never recovered it.' In a short time Wilber-
force's appearance was considerably altered, and his
spirits we^ depressed.

" When a journey to Scotland was proposed, my
fiither was greatly agitated, the more so because it
was impossible that at that time he should accompany
Uffly and he dreaded even a short separation from
his beloved child. His feelings will be best shown
by the following letter :

Si, NeotSj Monday night.

^'My ever dear love,

** * ♦ * No one knows, or ever can
know, the anxiety which I have felt on our dear
child's account. Little as it may have been per-
ceived, I have been inwardly agitated beyond ex-
pression, and this must apologize for any weakness
or inconsistency of which I have been guilty. Grod
only knows what I have suffered. I have been
taken by surprise. The alarming symptoms in the
disease of our beloved child have awakened a
thousand feelings and fears. I have reflected on
his bodily, but much more acutely on his spiritual
estate. I have been unwilling to separate from him
under all the probable, or at least possible contin-

fencies of the disorder. I have wept and trembled,
have mourned over my past deficiences towards
him* I have had my hopes, not being ignorant of

172 THE LATTER DATS

the exercises of his mind for years past. Yef. I
have had my fearsi lest he should have fallen from
his first love, and lest his literary pursuits should
have weaned his heart from God. For more than
a vear pasti I have hourly meditated on the course
of his education and preparation for the sacred
ministry. He has been the star of my hopes, the
source of my anxieties^ I have anticipated with
exquisite, though unuttered joy and hope, his en-
trance on the glorious work of preaching the
unsearchable riches of Christ, and I have also been
full of anxiety in a view of the falls and disappoint-
ments which yearly occur amidst the contaminations
and injurious companionship of a college career.
Yet I have never ceased to hope that God will work
with him and by him. My declining years have
been cheered by associations connected with my
interesting boy ; but the Lord now sees good, — and
blessed be his name, — ^to hang a dark curtain be-
tween me and all these thoughts and visions. Heaee
I am sometimes fearful, sad, and heavy.

I see fully the necessity and propriety of the pro-
posed journey, but I doubt his strength and ability to
encounter the fatigue and trial inseparable from
it. Chiefly I dread being absent from him when
heart and strength may fail, and I may only see him
again sinking into the grave, unaided, unstrength-
ened, unblessed by his affectionate father. Did I
but know more of his mind, I might possibly be
more at ease ; but his reserve withholds from me
this consolation. I have made a gentle, and I hope
a . considerate attempt to draw him out by a little
opening discussion of the sacrament. I start for
Cambridge at half-past four to-morrow. The sight
of that place will most acutely remind me of the past
as it relates to myself, connected with the contin-
gencies of the future as it may concern him. I have
many fears mingled with the hope of his recovery.

OV WILBBMFORCE. 173

I feel very anxious from day to day. May Grod
overrule all these things for the good of each of us.
Give my love to all, and an especial blessing to
Willy.

Your affectionate

" After it was decided that my brother should go
ta Scotland, we were advised to send him there by

a sea-voyage, in company with Mr. . His

father was to follow him in a few days. He was
much depressed at this time. It was his first separa-
tion from the paternal roof, and his mind became
deeply affected when the parting hour arrived, and
when he was to bid farewell to his beloved mother,
to brothers and sisters, to domestics and neighbours^
endeared to him by every sweet and tender tie of
youthful affection ; to the home of his infancy ; to
almost every person, place, and thing, with which
he had been accustomed to associate hapi;Hness ; the
agitations of his feelings increased the weakness of
his frame ; the conflict of his mind was visible in his
countenance, he looked pale and languid ; a painful
contrast to the usual smile which played on his
countenance. On the morning of his departure he
was very silent. He looked on us all as we stood
around him, and with tears in his eyes he stepped
into the carriage. During the interval of separation,
my father corresponded with him,* and was very
earnest to draw trotn him a more unreserved com-
munication, and to satisfy himself more thoroughly
of the reality of Wilberforce's piety, of which he
entertamed some doubts, amidst many hopes : but
iny brother avoided the inquiry of h\9 anxious and
distressed parent The voyage agreed well with
him. In the course of a fortnight my father and I

* Se9 letter io the Meraoire, pp. 5SI— «i&

16*

174 TH]^%43TBR BAYS

followed him into Scotland. We met Willy as we
entered the Firth of Clyde in a steam-boat. He
looked much better; his spirits were good, and the
meeting between us inspired reciQi:ocal feelings of
^<- hope and joy.

" For a while Willy's health seemed to be im-
proved, but we soon discovered that there was no
material amendnient. For a few weeks he was
buoyant in spirit, and apparently restored ; then the
hectic fever flushed his cheek, he grew weaker, and
he again sunk into depression. Our dear parent,
who at that time did not understand the hopeless
nature of the complaint, watched over his wasting
child amidst intense anxieties, increased probably by
the uncertainty of the issue in his own mind. It
was not a temporary separation which alone affected
^ him, though even this is a grief heavy to bear ; but
the least apprehension of losing for ever one we love,
fills the soul with the bitterest anguish. It is impos-
sible to be sincere yet calm under such circum-
stances, while any hope remains, or any help can be
administered. A holy violence of feeling and effort,
best discovers the integrity of our principles. There
was much in Wilberforce to love and admire* His
disposition was very amiable. The usual results of
a religious education were visible in him ; he shewed
every outward respect for religion ; strictly observed
its forms and duties, and admitted the theory of doc-
trinal truth ; but this did not satisfy our dear father.
He knew full well that it was very possible to do
what was right in the sight of Gk)d without a perfect
heart, — ^to cleanse the outside of the platter or beau-
tify the sepulchre, while all within might be impure ;
inasmuch as the speculative approval of truth is dis-
tinct from its sanctifying influence. Accustomed as
our parent had been to contemplate the infinite worth
of an immortal soul, — soul in this instance given to
him by God to train for eternity, — it was impossible

OF WILBEl^RCE. 175

that he should feel otherwise than intensely anxious
while he entertained any doubt of its salvation. It
was this uncertainty which ^ grcmtly disturbed his
peace and injured his health. Wilberforce seemed
shut up in impenetrable reserve ; he shrank from
personal conversation on religious subjects, though
his thoughtful and often depressed countenance ex-
hibited traces of inward conflict, and need of help
and comfort. He afterwards deeply regretted his
silence, and said, " It was a device of Satan to retard
my progress in vital experimental piety." Our dear
parent carried this trouble to God, and * rolled his
sorrows on him ' who alone could help him. For
many months he was sorely tried on this point. But
Gk>d, always faithful and true, heard and answered
his prayers more abundantly than he could ask or
think. " A vehement suitor cannot but be heard of
Gk)d, whatsoever he asks ; if our prayers want suc-
cess, they want heart ; theirblessing is according to
their vigour."* The following letters w^re written
to Mrs. R. About this period.

My dear love,

" Here we are in something like an earthly para-
dise, if beauty, sublimity, and diversity of scenery
may constitute ^ne. The air is most salubrious,
the rides delightful. I am glad to say the country
agrees well with Wilberforce, who is stronger and
in better spirits than I could have expected. He
varies occasionally, but differs little at any time.
There is certainly an improvement. The northern
experiment has so far answered that it has cheered
bis spirits, and afforded him recreation and change
of air. I have frequent hopes of his amendment.
We have therefore reason for gratitude, whatever
may be the«inscrutable designs of providence. My

* Ebhop HaU.

178 THX UTTER DAYS

mind reposes with thankfulness on the goodness of
God» amidst a thousand anxieties respecting my
dear boy. We are constant companions, and have
much Christian intercourse together. Not only do
prospect scenery, geology, botany, ships, rocks,
mountains, braes, and ordinary occurences, engage
our notice, (I have much satisfaction in seeing how
he enjoys these,) but higher things are not forgotten.
We pass daily the hour after breakfast in religious
exercises. We are, taking Mason's admirable trea-
tise on the Lord's supper as a kind of text-book.
It aflfords me an opportunity of saying what I wish
to him, relative to his own personal interest in
spiritual matters. I trust we are going on usefully
and prosperously. I think I am in my right place
and employment, watching, instructing, nursing,
and giving myself wholly to the comfort of my boy
under his mfirmities and vicissitudes. His cough is
troublesome twice or thrice in the day. He pur-
sues a bracing system, and a generous diet. To
what extent the disease may be preying on the
vitals, I dare not conjecture. His present state and
appearance are certainly satisfactory, but the com-
plaint is variable and flattering, and I must rejoice
with trembling. Oh I for a quiet, reconciled, patient,
waiting mind!

" Our present beautiful retreat is doing me good
filso, and I need it. My mind and nerves have
guffered a severe shock. I am conscious of the
benefit I derive. How long I may be permitted to
enjoy it God only knows. I would be thankful, and
receive grace and strength for the future.

" The weather is become very showery, but is
pleasant at intervals. These are days which afford
the finest mountain effects, and in this part of the
Western Highlands they are truly grand. We had
a rolling, tumbling voyage to Ardentenny. Dr. S.
seemed on the whole pleased with the appearance

OF WILBERFORCE. 177

of his patient. Dear love to my children. Tell

H we are surrounded by immense Trap

Schistus, and red sand-stone rocks, with great
variety of form, substance, and arrangement. •
* * * much love from all ; from none
more than your

Leoh."

"My dear love,

" For a few days after our arrival here, Willy
was not so well. The last three days we spent
much on the water, and he is stronger and better
for it. Dr. S. thinkis it a case in which a vigorous
pursuit of his bracing system may prove successful,
though he speaks with caution. The worst symp-
toms are, the shortness of breath and debility m
ascending short stairs and hills. But if the tone of
the system can be raised, these symptoms will
diminish. His spirits rise and fall as he feels better
or worse. I asked Dr. S. what proportion of cases
had recovered under his treatment; — he replied,
where it is regularly followed, half. Willy rests
much on the hope of amendment, and generally
replies to any inquiry after his health, I am better.
I never leave him from morning to night. Dr. S. is
about five hours' sail from us. We spent a pleasant

day last Thursday with him in Lord B 's

family.

" I am inwardly struggling and striving to be calm
and reconciled to God's will. I am going through
depths in the inward meditation of my soul. When
you write to Wilberforce keep in full view the
uncertainty of human life, even without, much more
with, the certainty of disease. Patients like dear
W. are full of stronger emotions and disposed to
deeper meditations, as disease threatens a nearer
approach to eternity. General sentiments and feel<*

lis THR I.ATTBII DAYS

ingB are more easily preserved than the special
a|>pIication of them to a particular case. He is
fltiu very reserved to me, yet I perceive he reads,
and I think meditates on important subjects. I
find it a delicate and a difficult matter to preserve
the right balance between the state of his spirits,
vascilTating, rising and falling with the state of his
disease, and^ reasonable hope which is not in-
fluenced by an earthly association. Endeavour to
draw out his sentiments and feelings, and desire
him to keep a letter always on the stocks for you,
— ^to write a little, day by day, till the sheet be
full. .

" So you saw Lord B 's funeral pass through

Bedford. I could wish for Christianity's sake that
ildopen and acknowledged adversary had remained
19 ■ ■ , where alone his life and conduct seemed
lo have been doing good. To this country his
writings will be a lasting bane, and must continue
to injure religion so long as infidelityt blasphemy,
and vice can obtain circulation and popularity, when
clothed and armed with the splendour of great
genius and talent. These constitute the real
objects of worship with many who profess to be
Christians. I entertain no doubt that the adoration
of an intellectual and poetical idol may be as great
a sin as falling down to the golden image in the
plains of Dura. Alas ! we have seldom seen true

Kiety and true poetry united ; but genius and vice
ave been too often associated in the annals of
mankind. We have need of due discrimination in
our estimate of characters, to be aware of the
dazzling influence of able corrupters and destroyers
of virtue.

^ You must only expect in general a few lines
from me, but I hope enough to convince you how
much I love and esteem you. Convey to the
people an affectionate pastoral message. The same

OF WILBBKFORCB.

Ifit

to Mr. ; cheer and encourage him in my naifte.

To my dear boys and girls give sweet messages of
love ; and for yourself accept a fragrant nosegay
of pretty things from your own affectionate^

Legh."

" I do not think Willy was fully aware of his
danger at this time, though from his reserve it was
difficult to ascertain his opinion of himself; and his
physician was afraid of discouraging him by a
disclosure of his real situation, as he considered it
of importance that he should expect recovery, and
cultivate cheerfulness of temper.*

" Willy wrote a few letters during his residence
at Rothsay, of which the following are specimens : —

"Dear ,

*^ I am not inattentive or indifferent to the kind
solicitude you have expressed for me. I now
experience what I have only heard before, that
nothing is more consolatory in sickness than to be
remembered by those we loved in health. I have
been very unwell since I saw you, and I once
thought I must have given up my former enjoy-
ments, my future hopes and prospects, even the

pleasure of seeing dear friends such as you, ^

and all I held most dear on earth. I shall never
forget the pang which almost broke my heart at
leaving home, when I saw the tops of the houses,
and the church, and the fields, and tho trees of my

* Diseases and the methods of cure lie within the province of a
medical attendant, and under certain circomstaDces it may not
be proper to interfere with him. Yet when there ia little or do
reasonable expectation of recovery, there is a degree of cruelty io
keeping up a clelufflon, and inducmg a patient to delay turning to
God till he cannot turn in his bed. it is unjustifiable on any
principle of reason or revelation. This practice may be traced to
an indifierence to religion, or an ignorance of its real character.
-"Editok.

180 THB LATTER DAYS

native village disappear from my sight. I thought,
perhaps I am looking for the last time on the scene
of my earliest recollections — my fondest and dear-
est enjoyments, — but it was a moment of weakness,
and I fear it was mingled with a feeling of repining.
I had always been happy — ^too happy, my heart
was satisfied with this world, but Grod was leading
me by a path I knew not, in which I should find
more certain and durable enjoyment. I needed
something to convince me of the emptiness of the
world, and to lead me to fix my affections higher.
I am now much better in health. I do not look like
the same person, and I hope I am not presumptu-
ous in anticipating another day with you as happy
as that spent at W a few months ago. Per-
haps you will think it a common-place remark, if I
express a wish for your company at Rothsay. The
situation is beautiful, but beautiful as is the sea
stretched now before us, and the mountains and
little romantic islands which surround us on all
sides, need I say how much more I should enjoy
their beauty, were you here to enjoy it with us ! I

am glad to have dear with me. We share

our joys together, and think so much alike about
every thing. To have been translated so suddenly
as I have been, from our flat country to this moun-
tainous region seems like being taken to fairy land.
Neither description nor imagination can do justice
to Scottish scenery : but do not suppose that amidst
all its charms I have forgotten England. Oh no !
I more than ever love the little blue hills of my
native country ; the fertile plains, grassy meadows,
waving valleys, and elegant rusticity of the cottages,
in which we so much excel the hovels of Caledonia.
We have here fine exhilarating mountain air, but
the nights are cold and bleak. I long to enjoy
again an English summer evening, — ^to recline as I
have often done on a bank warmed by the setting

OF W](LBE]IFORCE. 181

sun, to feel the balmy breeze which wafts the
fragrance of the flowers — ^to listed to the warbling
strain of the nightingale, and give way to the
wanderings of my imagination, which gave perhaps
a delusive yet fascinating sensation of pleasure to
the fleeting moment.

'^ I have sailed above a thousand miles on the
sea. I am beginning to like tK>isterous weather,
though I seldom escape the consequences. Adieu.

Yours, sincerely,

^ About this time my father began to prepare
Wilberfbrce to receive the holy sacrament for the
first time, and they used to retire together every
day after breakfast during our stay at Rothsay.
Willy listened to instruction with respectful silence,
and seeming acquiescence in the sentiments laid
before him : he appeared interested and anxious to
be received into full communion with the church of
€k)d, and was often observed to be in deep thought,
and sometimes greatly depressed. His unwillinjg-
ness, however, to free communication rather ip-
creased, and as his health was not materially
improved, his father's anxiety often amounted to
agony, and he could not conceal the mental agita-
tion which afflicted him. He continued to weep
and pray in secret for his child's confidence. ^ From
Wilberforce's conversations at a la!ter period, and
from letters written about this time, unknown to
his father till after his decease, we learnt what had
been the deep exercises of his mind-=-that he was
then earnestly seeking the knowledge and enjoyment
of God — that eternal things were daily subjects of
his contemplation and inquiry, and that he also
suffered much from an insurmountable repugnance
to make known his feelings, his wishes, and wants*
He told us afterwards, that though he suflered more

182 THB LATTB9 DAYS

from suffering alone, he seemed like one bound with
a chain, and could not venture to lean or place his
confidence on any hunoian help. At this time he
wrote as follows.

Roihscty.
"Mt dear Mamma,

''I was beginning to write to you when your
letter arrived. Very many thanks to you for it.
It is impossible for me to say how much a letter
w"* from home rejoices and relieves me, under the

peculiar circumstances by which I am separated
from it. The simplest thia^ which happens in
Turvey, becomes to me an object of interest.

'*I am very sorry I. should be the cause of
anxiety to you or to any one I love; I feel this
thought more than any pain I suffer in my body.
Indeed I lament our separation as much as you
can do. This period is one in which I could have
wished we might all have been together, but things
do not fall out as we would have them, and it is
best for us that they do not. I wish to feel resig-
nation in every thing. As for my illness, I trust I
receive it at the hands of God, and most firmly
believe it to be the greatest mercy he ever vouch-
safed me. My heart was engrossed by this world.
My affections were not set on things above. I did
not sufiiciently feel my need of a Saviour. Christ
was not my beacon-star to direct the future wan-
derings of my life, but I looked to the false glare of
human ambition, which would have led me to serve
myself rathcF than God; now I have discovered
the worthlessness of all my hopes and aims. I find
that all I have hitherto done is of no avail in sick-
ness. I have seen what earthly dependance is, —
when the world and all that is in it seems about to
be bidden from our view for ever. I trust also I
have known something of the joy arising out of

OF WILBBBFORCE. 183

dependance on Christ in the moment of extremity.
I would ask God^B forgiveness for making less
improvement of his ^ loving reproof than I on^ht
to have done. Remember me to Mr. and Mrs. G^^.
I hope the school is going on prosperously. I wish
my class to be told, that though far from them, I
have not forgotten them. I hope they are regular
in their attendance, and that if I return, I shall find
them all much improved. Oh ! if you knew how
very often I think of home. I did not know 'till
now how much I was attached to Turvey. I shall
never forget my feelings when I lost sight of our
little village. I was obliged to summon up every
weak and weary faculty to prevent my quite sinking
under the removal from it. * . * * *

Your most affectionate and dutiful Son,

Bothsay^ September.
Mt dear Mamma,

"Many thanks for your affectionate birth-day
letter. I shall always recollect my last birth-day,
for it was the first in which I felt melancholy. In
the full enjoyment of health and spirits, surrounded
by all I most loved, and by the companions of my
boyhood, those days were wont to pass away more
quickly and happily than any other. But as I sailed
pensively down the waters of Loch-lomond on the
20th of last month, a day dark and gloomy, and in
unison with my feelings, I felt that I was no longer
in the spot where I had spent the former anniver-
saries with those who shared and welcomed my
happiness. Yet I solaced the desolation of feeling
with the recollection, that though absent, there were
those who were thinking of me, and of this your
letter convinced me. * * * * yfy
spent last Sunday at Greenock ; a day, I trust, ever
to be remembered by me, ibr on that day I was

184 THE IiATTBH DATS

admitted to the highest Christian privilege, the
sacrament of the body and blood of our 8aviour
Jesus Christ, ordained by him as a perpetual re-
membrance of his precious death and passion. Oh !
that it may be to me a sign and pledge of my
admission to the marriage supper of the Lamb in
glory. I was very much affected, and should have
been quite overcome by the, emotions of my own
mind, if I had not felt stronger and better than
usual on that day. Now that I am an outward
member of the visible church of Christ, may I daily
prove myself to be one inwardly, in spirit and in
truth ; and whatever portion of life God is pleased
to allow me, I would devote it to his service, and
love him with my whole hearty who first loved me.
I wish another summer was at hand, instead of
another winter. I feel a dread of the winter.
There is already an autumnal feeling here. The
leaves afe beginningto change their lively green to
more varied hues. JOid the lading leaf ever remind
you of the decay of a Christian in this world? Like
the early tints displayed by the unfolding bud, are
the opening dispositions of a young Christian. - His
active walk and conversation resemble the hetithy
vigor of the full matured foliage and fruit. In the
signs of withering decay we see an emblem of his
closing scene, when he has arrived at the end of
his mortal existence, and sinks into a temporary
suspension, to shoot forth in a never-fading spring
of immortal joys.'*

"We spent the months of July, August, and
September in the Isle of Bute, but as the season
advanced, we were advised to return home. Appar-
ently, there was little improvement in Wilberforce's
health. Probably from being constantly with him,
we had not noticed the gradual, yet real increase pf
the disorder. He certainly considered himself much
better, and entertained hopes of recoveryi aud

or "V^LBERFORCE. 185

expressed great pleasure in returning to Turvey,
We passed a few days on our way home, with
some dear friends in Yorkshire, with \^hom our
father left us while he went to preach at Bradford. ^
His great anxiety for Willy's eternal destiny, ap*
pears by an interesting letter written to him at tlus
time.*

"My brother arrived at Turvey Rectory the
beginning of November, and was restored to the
quiet and peace of his own family. Six weeks
elapsed with little or no alteration in his appearance.
In a letter which my father wrote to me at this time,
he says,

" Dear Willy is much the same. I wish he was
more confidential and communicative as to the real
state •f his soul. Oh I what would I give for one
voluntary conversation or letter, detailing the former
and present history of what is passing m his mind.
I think well of it, and I hope it is comfortable ; but
I want to know this from himself. Many a secret
tear does his silence cost me.''

"It was during the six months following his
return from Scotland, that poor Willy's soul was so
severely tried. He never spoke <^ death, but he
roust have been sensible of increasing inward decay.
He <^uldnot hide from himself or nis family, the
depression and anxiety of his spirit. He was much
alone, and when he returned from his closet to his
family, the signs of sorrow and the traces of some
deep mental conflict were frequently visible in his
countenance. The Bible was scarcely ever out of
his hand, and afler his return from the north, he
seldom took up any other book, religious or literary ;
which was the more remarkable, as his chief occu-
pation and delight had ever been in reading authors
on almost all subjects. He would now sit for hours,

m
h

* Sm Mamoir, page 6S& ' - :*

17* ...

186

THB LATTER DATS

and nearly whble days over the Bible, in deep alv
straction ; he was slill silent to all about him, and it
was sometimes more than my dear father could
bear, to witness the increasing uneasiness of his
mind, and the sufferings of his body. After so
many ineffectual efforts to penetrate the real state
of his heart, our afflicted parent had but one
resource — ^to commit his child to God, in faith, and
under the pressure of his agonized feelings to cry,
^^ thou hast wounded and wilt heal ; bast broken and
wilt bind up again." The following letters were, I
believe, the last my tMX)ther wrote.

«* Dbar

I, ."' ** I am afraid tlmt vcw will conclude that our trip

A , to the north has cooled our affections, and frozen

them into indifference to former friendships. You

must think id no longer « # #

• * *

''I^n^now in that dear home which has some^
timet heem rendered still dearer by your presence.
i reflect 06 those hours with much pleasure, but the
remembrttiQe is mingled with a feeling of melan-
choly. It i» possible they may return ; I mean
hours of the same delight ; yet I must not forget
my gradual decline for the last six months. I am
' now in a state in which a slight increase of disease

might prove fatal ; but I am hoping, always hoping ;
for hope is a symptom of my disorder, so I must
bope. I am no longer what you once knew me.
The glow of health and spirits does not now en-
liven my countenance, which looks, I believe, rather
sad, jret I know not why it should do so, for I have
lost only that which endureth for a moment, and if
I obtain that which endureth for ever, the love and
* •*, mercy of Christ, sureljr I have reason to rejoice in

f; V.4 the exchange, in Christ,, and Christ alone 1 find

* \%

m.^ .m m^

••^ w

•,

OF WILBERF0RC8* . 187

peace.— He will not cast me away. I have durowii
myself, as an unworthy sinner, at the foot of the
cross, and there in peace will I lay my head, and I
trust, cheer^y resign my breath to him who gave
it. I used CMice to love the rose of all the flowers
the best ; biH now it has left me, and I turn to the
lilly, for it seems to betoken my approach to a world
of purity — ^nor have I any wish for life, if Christ
will receive one so unworthy. From how much
sin and temptation shall I make my escape by an
early death, and quitting these, enter into a heaven
of joy where there is no more curse. I know that
in very faithfulness God hat afilicted me ; — ^my
chief sins were piride and ambition, and these have //^«.-*'>
been the very means, at least the chief cause of my
diseise. Proud of my talents, and seeking the^
admiration of men, I neglected my health till it was -
too late to correct the error, and now my dreaia of/
future happiness in this world and all my ambitious
hopes are fled. But I would not exchange the
humility of a Christian for the phantoor tf.wicbl.
formerly grasped. People tell me J shf)! ^fjei^ovML
There may be hope, but my owD'HaprfsmrU-to
the contrary. Pray for me, dear ■» ■■ ' » and' let- a
tear fall for the sins of i

Your afiectionate »«*"

Jan. 4, 1825. ^'

** Many, many thanks, dear Mamma,,(br yocrt* loiig
and kind letter. I know you love me, and think oFnyi
while you are absent ; and it is some little Censdatioli
for your absence, and yet but little, forI)(mg fiA
your return very, very much. The house ii:dtfH'
without you, and I am dull ; for I am deprived '«if
the society of one T hold nlost dear. DaocuM ]•»'
BooA as circumstanees will permit. I ivwlil Aoi

•

» * •

V^ -

. «

• •"

.-•.'

• - •

188 THB LATTER DAYS

press it, mamma, but I am not nearly so well as
when you left me. My spirits are weak, and my
appetite almost gone. * * * * *
I am glad that you wrote to me so ooenly and can-
didly on the subject of death. I feel m^ earthly
tabernacle fast wearing away, and every day brings
more occasion for solemn thought and serious reflec-
tion ; and now, dear mamma, having said this, I
know you will be very anxious to hear something
about the state of my mind. Just now it is most
unhappy. The thought has forced itself upon me,
that I am not a child of Grod, but have been deceiv-
ing myself with false hopes. My breast heaving
with anguish, and my eyes swollen with tears too
big to find a passage, would bear witness to the
agony of spirit I have endured this day. But I have
cast* myself at the feet of my heavenly Father, and
have implored him by his mercy, by the love which
led him to dend a Saviour into the world, by the
death and intercession of that Saviour, by the en-
couragements he has held out to sinners to come
unto him, and by the help which he has promised
to all those who do so come, — I have implored him
not to send me empty away. I have not yet found
comfort, but I am looking and trusting. He has said,
Whom I love I chasten. I do hope this may be his
dealing with me, and if so, I shall be thankful for it.
Amidst these conflicts, I see as it were, a light glim-
mering through the darkness, which leads me on in
hope. Oh ! mamma, if you love your son, join your
prayers to his, that this life, this ray of hope may
mcrease, and that he may have a sure and certain
hope of a jojful resurrection to eternal life. I thank
you for Miss Jerram's Memoir. I never read any
book with more interest. She had exactly the same
feelings I have, but Gk)d removed them in his own
good time ; and I derive a hope from her deliver-
ance, that I shall not be cast away. I will not think

*■

OF WILBERFOROE. 189

it. I should deny his word — his promises. Sorrow
not, Mamma, that I must leave you, we shall not lie
long aepaitited. Two little ones are gone before me,
and will you not rejoice that Grod has been so
gracious to them? They knew not the sin and
sorrow of the world. I have known both, and I
wish to encounter no more. Not one prayer have
I offered up for life ; but I have said, Lord give me
a converted heart, and do with my life as seemeth
thee best. I feel no desire for life. Do not think I
want affection. The thought of parting with you
all, is more than I can well bear, but God will give
me strength.

" You blame yourself for not having talked with
me on reUgious subjects. I am sorry to say you
would haTe found in me a backwardness which I
was never able to overcome, but now if you were
here I could talk most confidentially with you:
* * May the spirit of God rest upon you.
May he comfort you under present anxiety — ^May
he speak to your heart in future sorrows — ^May you
find joy in all your tribulations, and an earnest of
that rest which is prepared for the people of God.
I am,

Your affectionate

"The last letter my brother attempted was to

Mr. , in Scotland. It was writteni under great

debility, and was left very unfinished.

^^Mt dear Brother,
" Forgive me if I write this letter in a very dis-
jointed style. I cannot write long together, and it
is difficult to resume thoughts once broken in their
connection. Maiiy thanks for your kind letter.
You need not have begun with excuses. You make
me anxious to have you with me — ^I want to un*

*♦

190 THB LATTER DAYS

burden my heart to you. I wish to hear a voice of
comfort from you. I never could sp^sk freely on
these subjects — ^I am sorry you found me so beick-
ward to religious conversation, but I could not sur-
mount my repugnance — ^I found it impossible — I
was not near enough to death — ^I had not known
trials and conflicts enough to overcome my reserve,
and induce me to unbosom my thoughts and feel-
ings. But now that I am struggling for life, now
that I have experienced hours of mental agony,
which might often have been alleviated could I have
opened my heart, how much do I long to have you
near me. How confidently, how freely would I
now converse with you."

" Hitherto Willy's decline had been |p gradual,
as scarcely to be observed by those who were con-
stantly about him. He rode on horseback daily,
sat much with my father in the study, and appeared
to his family nearly as usual, except that an increased
anxiety was visible in his countenance. But early
in January, 1825, a considerable alteration was ap-
parent. He wasted rapidly — death was evidently
approaching. We were taken by surprise, for our
fears had been lulled asleep. My dear father wrote
as follows.

"My dearest F.

" As I think more uncertainty hangs over the day
of your arrival than I wish, I write to hasten your
return. Dear Willy droops, he declines fast. He
misses you much, and often says he wants you.
Many symptoms increase my anxiety about him.
He is much weaker within the last few days. Come
to us immediately. We want another nurse. His
breathing is with difficulty and pain. His sleep and
appetite fail — his looks are pale and wan — his whole
frame is sinking — his mind seems very calm and

or WILBERFORCB. 191

composed, but he still says nothing. I am per-
suaded thii a great deal more has passed within
than we know of, and that of an excellent kind*
Peace and grace be with him and you, and with

Your affectionate Father,

L. R.

** P. S.— Since I wrote the above, I hav&had a*'-
very long, free, unreserved conversation with o|i#
dear boy, most affectionate and affectingf and cloflt^.
to the great point. It is an immense relief to mf "
mind. He is to me an interesting mixture of ant- ,
iety and hope. His language sometimes resembles
that of your own letter ; at other times he can trust
more. Oh I that I might see both my beloved
children, yea, all of them, living by faith on the
Son c^ God. By grace are ye saved, through faith,
and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God.

^^ Willy's most distressing symptom is a kind of
suffocating feeling. We know not what this may
produce. You will not be surprised at my distress.
Do not wait for an escort, but trust Providence for
a safe journey home.

(Tuesday.)

" You will be anxious to hear how the dear boy
is to-day. He is extremely ill in body, and exceed-
ingly well in mind — ^in a peculiarly holy frame. He
slept a little in the arm-chair last night, but his decay
is rapid. He wishes to talk with you on many subjects. *.
I hope he may have strength at intervals to do so.
His conversations with me have been most valuable
and interesting : praised be (xod ! I am so comforted
by my dear boy's unreserved communications, that
I frequently forget the pain of parting. Who could
be so selfish as to wish to stop his journey to
Jieaven. Yet how tiying to nature is the idea
of parting with him. Well, iftider every bereave-

•.

I9S THB'IATTES DA.ya

meat nnd aeparation from olhere, forget not, my

dear F the uee you may always make of your

father who loves you. You also have been too
' reserved towards him, for be is indeed and indeed.
Your own affectionate parent,

L. R."

" My mother was slIH at B , to which place

■he had been summoned to attend the dying Md of
ber bwn patent, and' iny ftther wrote to beg her
itsturn. .

" Mt dear love,

" Our dear Willy's weakness has increased with
such uaespected rapidity within the last three days,
that I wish you to return home immediately. He
is exceedingly anxious that you should not delay an
hour in coming to him. Amidst my great anxieties,
I have the pleasure of telling you that the spell of
silence is happily broken between us, and he has
opened his whole heart to me. He is in a very
anxious but hopeful frame of mind. By our mutual
conversation of yesterday and to-day I am relieved.
&om a heavy burden. All the nameless pangs of nrjr
mind, during the last eight months, have beenalmdst
blotted out of my remembrance by my present con- ■
eolations. My prayers are answered at last, tfae
door of utterance is opened, and 1 am truly thank--
ful. Your miud as well as mioe has long anticipated
, the probable result of this sickness. We must go
to the strong hold for help, and we shall not fail to
find it. I am staying from church to enjoy a
Sabbath with our dear boy; he has had a very bad
night, chiefly in the arm-chair, the fever has been
excessively high, and the pulse at the utmost. But
take comfort from the state of his mind. It is tnilv
interesting. All its natural superiority mingles witn,
its spiritual cbarantf^iiilics. He that once comforted

OF WILBERFORCE. 193

you in }rour own dange>2pas sickness will comfort
you in the distress of your soul. Let us trust God
in overruling all for the best. When not oppressed
by debility and pain, Willy's countenance beams
with sweet smiles of composure and lov^l' He
often inquires when you may be expected : * *
Of my other feelings I can say but little. No ona *
but God knows all that has passed in my heart {(ft '\
more than eight months, I may say years, concern*! ;*/:j-
ing Wilberforce, but (Jod is good and gracious. - v.'k\W' -,

Most affectionately yours," '•'. ', '"^,*,

^* All reserve was now banished from my brother's
mind. He opened his whole heart to his father,
told him minutely of all his past conflicts, spoke of
bis present comforts, and begged that lie might be
closely examined. He wished to satisfy his parent
and pastor that his faith was scriptural and sincere.
He seemed to go beyond his strength in conversing
— even tojextreme exhaustion, and appeared very
anxious to tell how God had enlightened, converted^
strengthened and comforted him. He would sit for
hocors with his dear fisither in the study, supported
ioL an easy chair, telling him all he had gone through
.-Entreating his pardon for the uneasiness he had
occasioned him by his past silence, and expressing
his great joy at now being able to converse with
freedom, and mingle their souls together in the
delightful interchange of confidence. It was now
that our beloved father was indeed comforted, and
that he received a full answer to patient prayer.
Edified, refreshed, and soothed by the holy lan-
guage of his child, his mind was supported under
the expected and long dreaded pang of parting.
These conversations, which were continued until
increasing weakness rendered them impossible,
induced my father to fqrm the resolution of writing

104 THB ULTttat HAIV

a memoir of Wilberforce, the imperfect oatfine
of whkb IS all that is )eft to ns. I have often
heard my father and brother give the same opin-
ion of the reserve which occasioned so much
Eain on both sides, and to which frequent allusion
as been made. They considered it a^ God's way
of dealing with a peculiar state of mind^ — intended
to humble the pride of the understanding, and
nlence a love of aigument. It was the Holy
Spirit, as a sovereign, converting without human
agency* Wilberforce said, tliat for more than
three months he had never looked into any book
but the Bible ; that God's word had been his only
study, and that amidst all his anxiety, often
amounting to agony of mindy^ he could find no relief,
either from religious books or religious conversa-
tion ; but was obliged to go to the Bible for every
thifig he wanted to know :^ — that whenever^ he
opened the Bible, be turned verse after verse into

S-ayer as he read, and that in so doing he felt a
rce, a sweetness and consolation passing all under*
standing, — ^that though he knew he had a father wha
loved him tenderly, and was so able and willing to>
instruct him and remove lua perpleicities, he 'felt
himself as one who was spell-bound, and could not
break silence — and so he retired to his solitary
chamber to weep and stru^Ie on in darkness — until
the Holy Spifit became his teacher, showing himr
the pierciog spirituality of a perfect law ; amidst
conviction and terror of conscieocBy leading him to
the cross to seek for mercy throiigh him that was
crucified upon it ; and enabling him to receive the
promiseaof free salvation ki Ghnst by his blood and
righteousness unto justification* I have built, he
would say, all my hopes for eternity on God*8 word,
which is unerring truth. I have found peace there,
and have been sealed by the Spirit which indited
that word, an earnest m th^ heavenly inheritance.

OP WIUERFORCE. 195

it was without httfuan aid, that I miglrt give God the
glory.

I have mentioned to you some interesting conver-
sations which passed at this time between Wilber-
force and my dear father. The following paper in
my father's hand- writing is the only one sufficiently
connected fiw insertion.

Subjects of conversation with me on Friday.— »-
** Warburton — examination of evidences— acknow-
ledgment of errors — ^God's reasons for taking him
away from the ministry — prayer — Christ's love-
God's way of humbling pride — infidel temptations
—on mere educational religion — his secret conflict
for four years past, between love of science ai^d
love of religion."

" On Saturday he expressed a wish to see our
family surgeon; "not," said he, **that I want
medicine, which will do me no good, but I wish for
his opinion of the progress of the disorder ; it will
be a great satisfaction to me to know precisely,
how long he thinks I may Uve. My strength fails,
yet the symptoms vary very much," The surgeon
arrived in the evening. Willy conversed freely with
him and begged him to be open and explicit.

Mr. saw clearly that he was now in the last

stage of consumption, and he was suiprised at the
ch^rful and unembarrassed manner with which he
discoursed on his present situation. I left them
together a few minutes. On my re-entering the
room, I was struck with his countenance, which
presented a mixture of calm and lively satisfaction,
as he was conversing with his medical attendant,
who on his return to the family spoke with great
feeling of his pttient. He said, 'the danger it
imminent, though it is impossible to say how long
he may remain,* and added, ^ I have scarcely ever
witnessed so much cheerfulness and composure in

196 CONVERSATIONS WITH

any one in the prospect of death ; certainty never
in so young a person.* * * * *

I returned to my son, who said that Mr. — 's

Visit had afforded much relief to his feelings.r " I
see what he thinks of my case, and it was right I
should know it." There was a union of thoughtful-
ness and serenity in his manner which affected me
exceedingly, but it filled me with gratitude and
thankfulness to witness in this well-ordered and
calm state of mind, an evidence of (xod's work, and
of a divine change. He observed, "I have no
expectation of any advantage from medicine, but it
may palliate distressing symptoms. The great
Physician alone will regulate all for the best, both
for body and soul. Oh I I want to trust him more
and more ! "

" In the evening, as we were sitting alone in the
study, I asked him whether he had read the book I
bad put into his bands, and whether he had found
its contents satisfactory. Instead of giving any
direct reply to this questioti, he looked at me with
an earnest expression of countenance, and said»
' Papa, do not be afraid ; I wish you to examine me.
I am anxious neither to deceive, nor be deceived in
respect to my spiritual estate. You cannot be too
plain with me.' I had been for a long time past
earnestly longing for a full disclosure of his thoughts,
but his reserve had hitherto kept me from all know-
ledge of his real state. In answer to questions of a
Eersonal nature, he would only reply, * I hardly
now what to say ; another time I may tell better.'
On religious subjects in general he never refused to
convene freely, but he shrunk from every attempt
at personal application. I was therefore delighted
when he thus voluntarily afforded me an oppor-
tunity of knowing the secret state of his mind, for
which I had long and most anxiously prayed. I
told him bow much I had wished to gain his confi-

H18 FATHBH. 197

dence, and feared I had not urged him to freedom
of intercourse with sufficient earnestness. " Indeed,
papa," he said, '* the fault was not yours. I have
felt a backwardness, particularly of late, to disclose
what was passing in my mind, and had you pressed
me more than you have done, to speak of myself, I
believe you would have failed to have obtained your
object. But now I feel quite at liberty to talk of
myself; and I first tell you that I think 1 see God's
design in keeping me thus shut up from you. It
was his gracious purpose to teach me, in the privacy
and solitude of inward meditation, my state as a
sinner, and the nature of salvation by a Saviour ;
here I learnt the deep things of God, and now I
would come forth and tell you what Christ has done
for my soul." His countenance brightened as he
Mttered these words ; a tear dropped from his cheek,
and his eye glistened with animation, as he said, '^ I
have had great exercises of mind of late, but God
has been very merciful to me in the midst of them.''
** And what," said I, " are your present feelings,
my dear boy ? " ** I feel, papa," he replied, " more
hope than joy. I have read of ecstacies in the view
of dying, which others have experienced, and to
which- 1 am still a stranger; but I have a hope
founded on the word of God, which cheers and
supports me« I know in whom I have trusted, and
I believe he will neither leave nor forsake me. I
am not afraid of death ; but as I think my time will
not be long, I wish to put mysetf first into the Lord's
hand, and then into yours, that you may search and
try me, whether I am in any error" 8uch in
important mooaent was not to be negleqt^. I
received my dttld's confidence as an answer to
many an annotts and earnest prayer which I had
offered op to €rod, and I resolved to use it, as
afibrding an opportunity of peculiar interest to us
both. Satisfied as I had long been with the general

18*

106 CONVBB8ATIONS WITH

view of his religious and moral character, strength-
ened by a discovery of many evidences of inward
principle, still, when I considered the near approach
of death and eternity-— the value of an immortal
soul — the danger of spiritual delusion, and my own
immeasurable responsibility as a parent, I resolved
to leave nothing unsaid or untried, which would
bring our hearts into mutual repose on the great
subject of salvation, and my dear child's personal
interest therein.

'' I found his mind perfectly clear as to the great
principle of his acceptance with God, solely and un-
equivocally through the death and righteousness of
Christ. In the most simple ^nd satisfactory man-
ner he renounced all dependance upon every w©rd
and deed of his own. '^ It is, said he, as a guilty
sinner before God, that I throw myself on his mercy.
I have no excuse to offer for myself, no plea to put
in why God should not utterly destroy me, but that
Jesus died to save, to pardon, and to bless me. It
is his free gift,- and not my deserving. Oh I papa,
what would become of me if salvation was by
works ? What have I ever done, and above au,
what in my present state could I now do, to merit
any thing at his hands ? God forbid that I should
rest on such a flimsy, fallacious system of divinity,
as that which ascribes merit to man. I have no
merit. I can have none. I have long known this.
I fear many trust in themselves, and thus rob Christ
df his glory. Is not this true papa ? '*

" Yes, my dear Wilberforce, many do deceive
themselves, and build for eternity on a wrong foun-
dation. But I have endeavoured to impress on your
mind from your childhood, that salvation by grace,
and not of works, is the peculiar feature of the gos-
pel of Christ ; and do you not now see that this is
the doctrine of the Bible ?

HIS FATHBR. 199

^^Yes> papa, and it is because, after long and
repeated study of the Bible, I have found the doc«
trine there, that I believe, and am now comforted
by it. You will pardon my saying that the opinions
which I have formed, and the doctrines on which I
rest, have not been imbibed from the sermons I have
heard, or the books which I have read, but from a
close study of the scriptures themselves. I have
been accustomed to bring sermons and boeks to the
test of the Bible, and not the Bible to them. You
cannot think what light and comfort I have found
in reading (Jod's own word. I never found any
thing like it from any other book."

'' I particularly inquired into the history of his
mind for more than three years past, in reference
to those sceptical temptations which he had formerly
described to me, and whether he had been lately
tried by the same doubts and difficulties in respect
of the truth of the scriptures." *' Never," replied
he ; no, never. From the time to which you allude,
I have felt the most perfect reliance on the word of
Crod ; and by much reading of it, and praying oyer
it, I have been so confirmed in my persuasion of its
divine origin, as not to have had my confidence
once shaken since that period. I have been tried
deeply iv^ other respects, but I have never again
varied oiTthat iniportant question. The book of
God, by Gk>d's blessings on its contents, has proved
its own heavenly character to my understandings
How thankful I feel for this I"

" A flush of hectic fever occasioned at this moment
a short period of debility, and he paused for a few
minutes. He soon resumed his affecting conversa*
tion, and said, *' I am not ignorant of my besettioff
sin. It was the pride of the understanding. I
always loved to examine thoroughly into the grounds
of an opinion before I received it, and generally,
though not always, to be deliberate in coming to %

900 CONVBttSATIOIfS WITH

coDclusion. ThiB habit has often made me appear
over-confident in what I said, and I know you have
felt and lamented it. I do entreat your forgiveness
of any instance of my folly which has hurt and
grieved you." Then he added, ** The recollection
of it has greatly humbled me ; I trust I have seen
my fault, and have not applied in vain to the blood
which cleanseth from all sin.''

''I asked him what had been his views of the
ministry in case God had spared his life. He replied,
^ You know, papa, it has always been my wish and
expectation to be a clergyman, and with this view I
have sought to attain various kinds of literary know-
ledge. I have very often prayed to God to fit me for
this office, and I have thought much of the doctrines
I should have preached to others. But I can see a
reason why God has put an end to these intentions
and prospects. He is removing me out of this life,
and does not permit me to enter into the ministry,
lest I should be tempted, from the peculiar turn q{
my mind, to seek the honour and praise of men in
mv ministrations, more than Grod's glory, and the
salvation of sinners. I think I can see both wisdom
and goodness in this dispensation."

** I remarked that the same God who had con-
vinced him of his danger, could have humbled his
heart in a variety of ways, and prepared him for the
service of the sanctuary, without endangering his
safety ; and doubtless would have done it if he had
seen good to have prolonged his life. Such dis-
coveries of your own heart, my dear boy, are evi-
dences of not only what Grod can do, bot a pledge
of what he would have done for you.'* ** True,
papa, but if he is pleased to humble me in the vMey
of death, may it not be safer and happier for me?
The Lord's way must be the best way.**

*^ He then adverted to another subject ** I have
kem much oocapied of late," said he, **in tbidkiog

ms FATHER. 201

% of man's natural depravity, and the deceitfulness of
the human heart. I have discovered it in many
things in which we are apt to overlook or make
excuses for it. I am sure / have no ground of hope
except I stand with St. Paul, and cry out, I am the
chief of sinners." I referred to a conversation
which I once had with an individual, who objected
to an application of that expresssion to himself, and
said, it was intended only to describe the peculiar
circumstances of St. Paul. "Then I am sure,**
replied Wilberforce, " that person could not have
been rightly convicted of guilt in his own conscience.
I do not know what the critics may say on such a
passage, but I am quite satisfied that when the heart
is opened to itself, the expression, chief of sinners^
will not appear too strong to describe its character,
I have often heard you say, papa, that the view of
religion which most honours God, is that which most
debases the sinner, and most exalts the Saviour.
I never felt this to be so true as at the present
moment."

'^His pallid but intelligent countenance as be
said this, seemed to express more than he could
find words to utter. He paused a while and con-
tinued, " What a comfort I find ia this conversation
with you I It is such a relief to my mind 1 and I am
very thankful for it." My own heart was too
responsive to that of my beloved child, not to
re-echo his own sentiments. I knelt down and
returned thanks to God for the consolation afibrded
to liS both, and prayed earnesfly that he would
continue to us the same holy interchange of kindred
spirit and feelings.

*' In another conversation my dear boy expressed
great satisfaction at the remembrance of the prep-
aration for the Lord's Supper, while we resided
in the Isle of Bute the preceding summer; a
preparation carried on for several weeks before he

SOB CONVBRSATIONS WITH

first received that sacrament in the Episcopal ^
Chapel of Greenock. He observed that in his daily
opportunities of reading and conversing with me,
he could seldom express his thoughts^with freedom,
though he deeply felt the importance of the subject
before us, but *' I shall always feel thankful to you,
papa, for the diligent and affectionate manner in
which you instructed me. I love that book of
Mason's. I shall never forget that day at Greenock
Chapel. I was greatly comforted. You preached
from Isa. Iv. 1. " Ho ! every one that thirsteth,
come ye to the waters ; and he that hath no money,
come ye, buy and eat ; yea, come, buy wine and
milk, without money and without price." — I did
indeed thirst for the waters of salvation. Poor

Charlotte B was there also. Her unexpected

death affected me much."

" What were your thoughts " I said, " when you
wrote those lines in her album the night before you
parted from her."*

" I thought them,** he replied, ** very suitable to
my own feelings, but I little thought she was to
realize the sentiments before I did." '* She has
joined her father in a better worW," I said. " Yes,
and may I soon be with them ; but God knows best,
and I wish to commit myself into his hands, for life
or death." He then sunk for a while into his chair,
and dozed. When he awoke he began again to
converse. '^ But, papa, papa, do you indeed think
I am on the right foundation 7 I cannot bear the
thought of being deceived ; but I do think Christ
ioves me too well to cast me away, and that I may

* It matteri little at wlitt hour of the day
The righteous falla «tleep. Death oannot come
To fciia ^ntimeljr who u ill to die {
The lesa of this cold world, the laore of heaven ;
The hri«6f life, the eanier immortality.

HIS FATHIOL 203

say, Faithful is he that has promised^ who also wUl
do it, I love God. I love his word, I love tus
ways. I love his people, though I feel so unworthy
to be counted one of them. Surely such feeluigs
as these do not fit me for hell." An indescribable
look of animation pervaded his countenance as he
uttered these words, and bespoke the love, faith,
hope, and sincerity of his heart, too plainly to be
mistaken.

" If," he continued, " (Jod meant to destroy me,
would he have shewn me these things ?"

^ I am persuaded not," I answered. '^ Manoah's
wife has proved a comforter to many, and I rejoice
that her argument for the merciful designs of God
prevails with you."

^ I am now fatigued, and must go to bed," said
he. ^ Pray with me, and then, good night I "

" Having the assistance of a much-valued friend
to undertake the public services of my church, and
feeling great anxiety to avail myself of this oppor-
tunity to devote myself to my son in his critical and
alarming -state of health, I remained at home with
him the whole day. Although much oppressed by
the raindly-increasing progress of disease and con-
sequent debility, yet he was able to engage in some
interesting and very important conversations a4
intervals during the day. He was carried into the
study about eleven o'clock. At his breakfast he
expressed a hope that there were many now
-engaged in prayer for him in the congregation
assembled for divine service. '^ I should love to be
in the midst of them, but it cannot be now. It never
will be in this world. What a comforting consideis
ation, papa, that wherever two or three are gathered
together in his mune, Christ has promised to be

f resent with them. Do you not think he is here.'^
replied, *^ I atoot doubt it, my dear boy. It is
one of the- most consolatory vievirs of the vrord of

S04 CONVERSATIONS WITH

God, not only that he is constantly present with
every individual believer, in every place, and under
every circumstance, but he is also especially present
with all such, however great or small their number,
who unite together in acts of worship and religious
intercourse. He is alike present at this time with
'our friends in the church, and with you and me in
this room. May God give us grace to realize this
and be thankful.

" Soon afterwards, while the servant was remov-
ing the breakfast things, I was stirring the fire, as he
complained of the cold ; and a short silence ensued.
He said presfcntly, with a playful smile, "I was
thinking while you stirred the iire, how much easier
it is to rake the ashes from the grate than to get rid
of sin from the heart ;" and then relapsing ii^to a
grave look, he added, " how often the ashes of sin
deaden the flame of religion in the heart." This
remark — originating in an apparently casual incident
— ^led to a close conversation on the nature of sin,
and the difficulties with which a Christian has to
contend in his conflicts with indwelling and inbred
corruption. I was much struck with his deep
acquaintance with the exercises of his own heart,
and with the gospel plan of salvation, which he
evinced as he continued to dwell on this subject.
I rejoiced to observe in him a personal and practical
application of the grand truths of revelation to his
own heart ; the result of much prayer and medita*
tion, and reading of the sacred volume ; his inmost .
thoughts* were thrown into our discourses, which
manifested a power and demonstration of the Spirit
of God far beyond what I ever anticipated. The
reserve which had caused me so much solicitude
was entirely removed.. With a sweet and endear-
ing freedom of heart and tongue he expressed him-
self so openly,~and with such sincerity, as filled me
'with gratitude, and rendered me for a. moment

HIS FATHER. "205

insensible — comparatively insensible — ^to the pang of
bereavement which was so soon to be undergone.
To possess such satisfactory evidences of my child
being an heir of glory, that my temporary loss
would prove his eternal gain, and the hope that we
should one day meet in the presence of God to part ^
no more, cheered my spirit and tranquillized my
mijfd, under an affliction otherwise insupportable.

'^ I was making a reference to some expressions
in the seventh chapter of the epistle to the Romans,
on the nature and character of St. Paul's own ex-
perimental acquaintance with the truths which he
enforced on others, when I was summoned to join
my other children at the dinner-table. I told him
my absence would allow him a respite from the
fatigue of conversation, but that I would soon
return to him and resume the subject, and begged
him to seek repose for a little while in his own arm-
chair. This appeared to me the more necessary, as
I had observed an evident and painful struggle
between the debility of his frame and the anima-
tion of his thoughts. The hour of the afternoon
service arriving, I returned to my son, whom I
found with the Bible opened before him. He looked
at me with a smile, and said, *' Well, papa, I have
not been asleep. I have been, otherwise employed.
I revived almost as soon as you left me, and as I
wanted to converse with you on the epistle to the
Romans, I have been readmg through the first eight
chapters, whilst you were Below, in order that I
migtit have this subject more clear in my recollec-
tion." I wzs surprised and pleased to find that he
had strength sufficient for such an exertion, and I
reflect on the circumstance with greater interest, as
this was, I believe, the last time he was able to read
at all.

** He observed that he had purposely stopped at
the eighth ehapter, because the apostle bad there

206 CONTBR8ATIONS WII*^

seemed to make a division in his subject and argu-
ment. ** What a beautiful summary of doctnne
these chapters contain, papa ! I have thought on
them again and again. St. Paul lays his foundation
deep in the corruption of human nature, and shows
so plainly that neither Jew nor Gentile has any
liopie from works, but only from faith in Christ
Jesus. I have found great comfort from that vilw
of the righteousness of Christ, which the Apostle
declares to be the only way of salvation. There is,
there can be no other. We have no righteousness
of our own — all are under sin — every mouth must
be stopped, and all the world become guilty before
Gk>d. I have been at times perplexed about the
principle of acceptance with God, but now I see it
quite clear. With what earnestness does the apostle
labour to prove the vanity of all human depend-
ance. I have been thinking as I read these chap-
ters, how entirely the walk of a believer depends
on his faith in Christ, and how closelv connected the
holiness, and the comfort, and the reliance of the
soul are with each other. He proceeded to com-
ment on the fifth and sixth chapters, as a train of
experimental and practical reasoning deduced from
those which preceded them, adding, "but the
seventh and eighth chapters have been my delight.
I have found my own case so exactly, and so clearly
described in the seventh, and have been so much
comforted by St. Paul's description of his own
feelings about sin and Christy as I can never express.
And then the eighth crowns the whole. Oh, what a
chapter is thai I Every word has given me instruc-
tion, strength, and comfort." I here said, "And can
you make an inward applicaition of the latter part
of that chapter to yourself?" "Indeed papa, I hope
I am not deceiving mvself, but I do think I can. It
lifts me up with such hope and confidence, the lan-
guage is so sublime, and the doctrine so coovincing^

HIS FATHER. 207

It sometimes seems too much for a sinner like me
to say ; — but all things are possible with (rod, and
he whom Gkni saves, nas o, propriety in all things."
He then went through the whole subject of the
chapter, making a variety of sensible and solid
remarks upon it, and entreating me to examine him
as to his personal application of these glorious and
gracious truths to his own heart. After he had
made some animated observation^on the conclud-
ing part of this chapter, he said, " But now I want
to add one sentence from another part of the
epistle to wind up the whole, and that is, '' Oh ! the
depth of the riches both of the wisdom and know-
ledge of God ! how unsearchable are his judgments,
and his ways past finding out ! For who has known
the mind of the Lord ? or who hath been his coun-
sellor? or who hath first given to him, and it shall
be recompensed to him again. For of him, and
through him, and to him are all things, to whom be
glory for ever. Amen." I shall ever retain a vivid
recoUection of the tone of his voice, and the
sparkling look of his eyes, which accompanied the
utterance of these words. He became immediately
much exhausted — ^the difficulty of breathing in-
creased-^the fever ran very high — ^he bent over the
table and fell into a doze, which lasted half an hour.
He gradually awoke, and I observed him to fix his
eyes on a globe of water which stood near the
window, and contained a gold fish. I enquired
what he was looking at so earnestly. He replied,
I have often watched the mechanical motion of our
gold and silver fish in that globe. There is now only
one left, and that seems to be weak and sickly. I
wonder which of us will live the longest — ^the fish
or I ? " He paused, and then added, ^ That fish,
my dear papa, is supported by the water in the
vessel, but I hope I am supported by the water of
fialvatbn. The fish will soon die and live no more ;

•«

308 CONVEBSATIONS WITH HIS FATHER.

but if I «m upheld by the water of salvation, I shall
live for ever."

" His remark led me to make some observations
'on the practical use which may be made of natural
objects, and the advantages oi cultivating a habit of
seeking something of Hjlod and the soul every where,
and of accustoming the mind to seek such compar-
isons and allusions as tend to improve and delight
it. Wilberforce observed, " This is the very prin-
ciple exemplified in our Lord's parables, and in all
the figurative language of scripture." At this mo-
ment a gleam of light from the setting sun shone
upon the gold fish, and produced a brilliant reflec-
tion from its scales, as it swam in the glass vessel.
" liOok," said he, " at its beauty now." " So, ipy
dear boy, may a bright and more glorious sun shine
upon you, and gild the evening of your days." " I
hope," he replied, ^^ although I sometimes feel a
cloud and a doubt pass across my mind, that in the
evening-time there shall be light, and then in his
light I shall see light."

" Thus, the gold fish furnished us with a kind of
parable. It so happened that the fish survived my
son two or three weeks, but I never afterwards
saw it without a lively recollection of the conversa-
tion to which it gave rise ; and the ideas associated
with it still mingle with the cherished moments of
his latter end."

wilbebtobcb's life conclitded. 209

CHAPTER Vm.

" How calm their rest,
Night dews fall not more gentler on the ground,
Nor weary worn-oat winds expire so soft."

Bldr.

*^ From this time my brother kept his room, being
too weak to be removed to the study. He sat up
during a part of the day in his arm chair, and con-
versed with his father in the same strain of elevated
piety. His mind was at times strong and vigorous,
full of faith, rejoicing in the prospect of death, his
heart trusting in (rod, — ^then trembling and leaning
on his spiritual guide, who watched over him with
the ovei^owings of tenderness, gratitude, and love,
while his dying son besought him to probe his in-
most soul. My father, when with us, usudly pre-
served a dignified composure ; speaking little, and
with tears; pouring forth his soul in the family
devotions; and seeming to say, ''He will soon
leave me, but blessed be the name of the Lord."

** I returned to Turvey on the 10th of January «
My father met me in the hall. He wept much as
he told me there was no hope of Willy's life ; but
he soon recovered himself and said that the agony
of beroavement was forgotten in the blessed thought,
that he had trained up a child for glory. He then
took me up stairs, whero I found the dear invalid in
a chair before the fire, looking very pale and
emaciated, but with a countenance full of peace

19*

210. welbbrforcb's life concluded.

and love. His eye glistened as I entered. He
leaned his head on my shoulder, but was too deeply
moved to utter a word. He continued silent a long
time, and scarcely spoke or answered the usucd
inquiries of affection. In the evening he revived,
and seemed disposed to coQverse. I asked if he
could view the approach of death without fear.

" Yes, dear F , I have no wish to stay one

day longer on earth, but I must not be impatient.
Lord Jesus I come quickly! If it.be thy will, I
would not linger here, but I pray for patience. Ah !

F how I long to be free from this poor body,

and see my Saviour's face. You can never know
how I long for this, till you also have heaven in
view. I know in whom I have trusted. He will
save me, for he has promised, and he never
ctmnges.'' He then fell into a kind of stupor, mur-
muring distinctly, '^Christ the sinner's hope."
When he awoke, the fever was very high, and his
mind seemed to wander. My father entered. He
looked up and said, *^ He fights hard and I fight
hard, but Christ fights harder." He began to pray
aloud, struggling for strength and thought, and in-
treating God that he might not be given up to
delirium, of which he had a ereat dread, and then
he praised and blessed Grod for giving him strength
to oflFer another prayer.

** I sat up with him the greater part of the night.
He once startled me with the energy with w^hich
afler a long silence he cried out, '^ I know in whom
I am trusting. I know he never yet left one soul
that trusted m him. I will not doubt." He passed
a painful night, with alternate fits of fever and shiv-
enng. He continually expressed a fear that the
fever would occasion delirium. He felt his time so

Erecious, that he could not bear to lose a moment
y insensibility; he exclaimed with the utmost
vehemence, '^ O God I most merciful ; — D God !

* .'

wilbeoforce's life concluded. ^ 211

do not afflict me with the greatest of dl evilf^
insanity. I long to glorify ttee in my death. Can
I glorify thee in delirium, when I know thee not 1
Yet not my will but thine be done."

"About five o'clock on Wednesday morning he
said, *' Now call up papa, and ask hitii to coihe and
talk with me. I feel as if I should have much to
suffer to-day, and I want him here that I may call
up some comfbrt and strength." He came imme-
diately. I retired and did not hear their conversa-
tion. My father has more than once told me of the
interesting subjects of their discourse, but I am
afraid to trust to recollection at this distance of
time. I again regret that my beloved father did not
live to fulfil his own intentions. I extract from his
very imperfect notes, what may possibly apply to
their present interview.

" I read Hooker's death to him-— substantial calm
on his mind, only interrupted for the moment by
disease — he told me of his grapplings with infidel
objections — of his weeping when a little child, at a
sermon I preached from Jeremiah."*

"After breakfast I returned to relieve my father,
who, amidst his daily sufferings, was not unmindful
of his family or his parish. "J must work while it
is called to-day ^^ seemed to be the prevailing senti-
ment of his mind, and his beloved child's death gave
additional weight to the admonition, "what thou
doest, do with all thy might"

" Wilberforce sat silent fiir some time, then
looked up and said, "Come, and sit close to me.
Let me lean on you." Then putting his arms round
me, he exclaimed, " Grod bless you my dear." — ^He

'I' Jer. in. 28. Return ! thou backsliding Israel, saith the Lord,
and I will not cause mine anger to fall upon you ; for I am merci-
ful, sajpi^he Lord, and I wu not keep mioe ang^r for ever.

... "

^-s;i*r''^.^212 ► wilberforce's life concluded.

,,V::^.. ;:V-'#Was agitated and ceased speaking. Presently he
jj*/^..' '^ said — " I must leave you — ^we shall walk no further
* :;Vr^ through this world together — but I hope we shall
' *^ * meet in heaven. Let us now talk of heaven. Do
not weep for me, dear F — , do not weep, for I am
very happy ; but think of me, and let the thought
make you press forward. I never knew happiness
till I knew Christ as a Saviour." He then exhorted
and encouraged me to study the Bible with perse-
verance. " Read the Bible — ^read the Bible. Let
no religious book take its place ; — ^through all my
perplexities and distresses, I never read any other
book, and I never felt the want of any other. It
has been my hourly study, and all my knowledge
of the doctrines, and all my acquaintance with the
experience and realities of religion have been
derived from the Bible only. I think religious
people do not read the Bible enough. Books about
religion may be useful, but they will not do instead
of the simple truth of the Bible." He then spoke
of his regret at parting with us. " Nothing con-
vinces me more of the reahty of the change within
me, than the feelings with which I can contemplate
a separation from my family. I now feel so weaned
from the earth, my affections so much in heaven,
that I can leave you all without a regret. Yet I
do not love you less, but (Jod more." I asked him
whether his mind had been distressed for the last
few nK)nths at the thought of parting from us, — ^for
knowing the strength of his affections, I fancied he
must have suffered much in subduing and con-
trolling them. " Oh ! my dear F ^ the pain,

the agony I have felt, when I said to myself, " I
must leave them all.'* — ^You will never know what
bitter hours I have passed ; — ^none but (rod knows
what it cost me to break those ties which bound me
so strongly to earth. Never, never will you know

wilbebfobcb's LIFB C0NCLUI>£S. 313'*

what I sudered as I looked at you all, and felt my
streneth decliniiig, and remembered it must soon
be a last look. I thought this must be the bitter-
ness of death ; and even after I had found accept-
ance and peace with God, I still sulfered deeply in
the prospect of separation, and never supposed I
could vk'illingly part from my family. I knew that
God would support me, and carry me through ttus
trial ; but a tna] I felt it must be to the last ; — and
yet, Bee me now in the immediate prospect of
parting — I am quite happy, and can leave you all
without a tear — I know God can unite usalfagain;
and I can trust him here as I can in every thing
else. Now this change must have been effected by
God. It is so evident, I cannot mistake it. I could
not have acquired this composure myself, God has
done it, but I have suffered much in the process."
He always appeared comforted when he heard
that any one had prayed for him, and frequendy
entreated those about nim to pray, but he used to
add, " Do not pray for my life, but that I may have

comfort in deatn," I was writing to W and

asked him if he had any message to send. He said,
" They have been very kind to me, but I am too ill
to think of them." Afterwards seeming to recollert
himself, he said, " Come and hold my nead while I
try to remember them. I would send some mes-
sage. Tell dear M that I am suffering veiy

much, but I can and do rejoice in my sufferings, for
every pain is bringing me nearer to heaven. I shall
not see her again in this world ; " here he seemed
quite exhausted. After a while he revived a little.
" I want to say something to dear Mr. W— -—,
you told me he had been praying for me. I wish
nim to know how much I have been comforted by
this. How grateful I feel to him, tell him how
much I value his prayers, and that they have been
answered ; for Chnst is now precious to me.

214 whjberforce's life concluded.

Through him the fear of death is taken away. I
want to tell him more. If I can I will to-morrow^
but say this*" He now became exceedingly ill ; he
breathed with great difficulty ; he panted for breath,
and his struggles were distressing. The sufferings
of his body affected his mind, and he seemed to lose
his comfort and confidence in Christ. He cried out
many times, " Oh ! pray for me, pray for me, pray
forme. This is hard to bear, how different the
pains of death are from any other. It is such a
(Struggle to get free." He appeared to suffer much
in his mind. My father said, " My dear boy,
Christ is still with you. Where he once fixes his
love, he never takes it away. You may not see
him just now, bdt he is not the less near to you.
Nothing cauj nothing shall separate you from
Christ." Willy cried out, " And did not he say,
" My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me 1^
Then he twice repeated, " For a small moment
have I forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I
gather thee." *« Oh ! papa ! — what shall I do — ^I
am suffering so very much ! " " Not one pang too
many, my child," said his weeping father, while the
big tears rolled down his cheek. " I know it, papa,"
he answered, **I believe it, I feel it." He con-
tinued in a state of suffering nearly the whole day.
Towards evening he sank into a sort of lethargy.
He seemed scarcely to know any thing that was
passing. About eleven o'clock at night my father
read the 23rd Psalm, and prayed with him. He
was able to attend, and it seemed to cheer him.
He was better in the morning, and had much com-
fortable convei*sation with his father throughout the

day. Mr, G came to see him. Willy wished

to converse with him. He was fearful at first, and
expressed some doubt of his salvation ; but Mr.

G^- encouraged him by his remarks. He assured

him that Christ would never give up a soul who

. *

wilberforce's life cohclvded. 215

had fled to him for refuge. Here Willy interrupted
him, ** I believe it, yes, I believe it. Christ ha«
brought me thus far, and he viill not leave me. He
has said, ^' whosoever cometh unto me, I will in
no wise cast out." I feel now quite certain that
Christ will save me." He then adverted to his
love for us, and the parting with us. " We have
been a happy family ; — so closely united ! Every
two of us can say, how dearly we love each other—
Our love has been more than common — ^I think we
shall be a family of love in heaven — Two of us are
in heaven already, and there will soon be a third—
Oh, I feel persuaded we shall meet again." Mr.

G proposed to read a chapter in the Bible.

Willy said he could listen, and Mr. G chose

|)arts of the last two chapters of the book of Reve-
ations. He appeared greatly refreshed. His face
beamed with joy while he listened to the sublime
and glorious description of the new Jerusalem, and
anticipated the moment of his own entrance into
the holy city, to go out no more for ever ; when he
should join the melody of the heavenly choir, and
make one of the countless throng before the throne
of God. " Glorious things are spoken of thee, O
city of Gk)d." After a short pause, he said to Mr.

G , " Tell me about the song of Moses and the

Lamb, my memory is failing. Repeat it to me."

Mr. G repeated from Rev. xv. "Great and

marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty;
just and true are thy ways, O Eang of Saints;
who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy
name, for thou only art holy ; for all nations shall
come and worship before thee, for thy judgments
are made manifest,''

Mr. G »»i.-., took leave of him, and some time
after his departure, Willy said, " Mr. G—-?^ seemed
sent to brin^ the close of the Bible to be the con-
solation of mp cbsis qf my life. It js sipgulor that

• ^

•

316 wi^bbrvOrce's life concluded.

he should have fixed on those chapters, for I have
read them so often ; again and again in my hours
of sorrow, longing* praying, but not daring to beUeve
I should ever be admitted to that glorious company ;
how have I wept over them ! *'

Mr. F. paid him a visit, and Wilberforce was
very earnest in pressing him to examine the state of
his mind, saying ^' I would neither deceive nor be

deceived." Mr. F replied, " You are now too

much exhausted for conversation ; I have heard
from your papa the state of your mind, and I am
quite satisfied with his opinion of you, for our ideas
of true conversion are the same." "Yes," said he,
*' but I would rather you should examine for your-
self, — ^I want you also to search me."

"He asked Mr. F whether the feeling of

assurance was necessary to salvation. '^ I do not,"
he said, '^ always feel alike ; sometimes when illness
overpowers me, my comfort is gone, and I am afraid
that after all I shall perish ; but I know that in my
darkest season I still love my Saviour above every
thing."

"My dear Wilberforce," said Mr. F -, " you

cannot have a more able counsellor in your perplex-
ities, than your affectionate father, and your very
weak state inclines me to be brief. Our religion
may be explained in a few words, at least as far as
it is necessary to your peace and safety. You must
have a title to heaven, and a meetness for its enjoy-
ment ; you need not now trouble yourself on other
points. The title is Christ's merits. Do you rest
on them alone for acceptance with (Jod ?"

" Oh yes ; I have no other hope or trust. If I
have confidence or comfort, I get it only there."
'*Well, then, the next thing is a meetness for heaven.
If any man belong to Christ he has the mind of
Christ ; he is a new creature ; religion is his life as
well as his peace." " Indeed, indeed," he replied*

» ^

THE MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY. 217

<' I do love Christ ; I long to be where he is, to
dwell with him forever." " Then all is safe, Wil-
berforce ; I am quite satisfied that he who has
worked the outf in you, ha3 procured the other for

you.'* ■ " But your eye, Mr. F , your eye looks

as if it doubted of me." " No, my dear Wilber-
force, I am not doubting, I am looking on you with
a deep interest"

•* Mr. F went away with a promise to see him

again in a few days but my brother died before the
time fixed for another visit

** He slept for some time, and then suddenly sat
vp in his chair with apparent ease ; he breathed
freely, spoke distinctly, seemed free from pain, and
his countenance looked satisfied and happy. I was
quite surprised at the change, and said, ** My dear
Willy, you seem much better." "Yes," he answered,
^I am much better. This is a precious moment,
and now I hope I shall be able to talk to you a

little. This is an answer to prayer, dear F .

I have much longed to grorify God in my death,
and ever since last Sunday I have been praying for
one hour of ease and strength to speak to you all
for the last time, to tell you what I now think of
religion. Hitherto you have seen n^e so over-
powered by disease, that you could not judge of my
comfort and confidence in my principles. But God
has granted my request and I will glorify him." He
then began an interesting conversation, and spoke
with astonishing ease. He was very plain and
sincere. He told me kindly of faults and errors
which he had observed in me ; and he endeavoured
to correct them, and encouraged me from his own
experience to persevere in striving against them.

*' My dear, my very dear F ," he said, " I hope we

fihall meet in heaven. I eould not teJk to you in
this calm manner, if I did not believe we should
meet again. But you have much to learn — ^much

218 IBIPORTAIfT CONVERSATIOIfS WITU

to do before you can get there. There is but oae
road, and without an entire dedication of the heart
to God, you cannot walk in it." He &||poke of. tbo
dangers of a religious education ; of Imviqg the form
of religion, while the heart was still unehe(nged,.and
the will unsubdued. He spoke also of wba| he
called sentimental religion^ telling me how easy it
was to write in beautiful poetic language without
any real feeling of heart ; and he mentioned some
instances where religion was but a bright fictiob of
the imagination ; anil others where it proved itself'
a transforming principle in the life and conduct.
*^ My dear sister, be a reed disciple — ^Be in earnest
—You will want heart religion when you come to
die — The " poetry of religion will not do then ;*'—
reminding me of some letters I had written to hinu
He again recommended to me most earnestly the
constant study of the Bible. " Here," he said, " I
speak in a peculiar manner from recent experience
"—For the last three months the Bible has been my
sole instructor — It has gradually led me on to clear
light and real experience, till every promise is my
own — I have read the greater part of it through
several times during my illness — and often on a
Sunday, when I have spent the day alone, I have
read the whole of the New Testament, unable to
leave off till I had grasped all the mind of the Spirit
at once. Perhaps papa has thought I read too few
religious books — He has looked anxious at my
neglect of many he put in my way — ^I do not give
myself in this respect for an example — ^but I have
found little benefit from books, sermons, or conver-
sations — ^The Bible, the Bible alone has taught me
every thing. If I read books on religion, however
excellent, the thought always haunted me — ^this is
human — ^it may be wrong. I could not rest till I
went to the Bible. Here I felt all was divine and
infallible ; and I found fiuch comfort in the simple

k » ■

THE MEMBERS OF HIS WMMILyI * 219

'^fit God's word, that I set aside every other
>)(, jliss^tujiied. I may be earnest then, in press-

" jEJo the'if baid, " But you must pray over the
Bible-rf^i^^l')^^ the teaching of the Spirit it will do
ycrii '(fa good, you must apply it as you go on to
yourseff, aind feel it personally, or you will get no
oenefit, though you stand the whole day over it. —
I have been in the habit of reading the Bible on my

' knees, and I recommend you to do the same. — tt
^encourages prayer. — ^I have found it very useful to
turn Scripture into prayer, using ihie very words.
Th^re is not a psalm 1 have not. turned into a

Srayer. I have felt so safe in making prayers from
le Bible because then I knew I could not err;
^and let prayer always be preceded by self-exami-
Hation; lay your heart bare before God; indulge
not even a doubtful feeling; one secret sin will
cloud all.

I had marked the depression of his spirit when
the symptoms of his disease appeared more unfa-
vourable, and I asked him if he had any fear of
death now. He answered me with great firmness,
—"No, not any — ^I have unshaken confidence in
Jesus as a Saviour — ^He has taken away the sting
of death, and for bis sake the Father will receive
me as his child.* I replied, ** You had, dear Willy,
great doubts of your salvation, and many fears of
' death during some periods of your illness.*' " Oh I
yes, indeed I had I I have been on the verge of
despair, and have known its agonies.---My pain of
body wag at times very great, but nothing* in com-
parison with the agony of my spirit. — I struggled
on in darkness and in silence. — ^It was known only
to myself and God, but I was supported and carried
through all, and now I would encourage you, my
dearest sister, by tellikig you what succeeded in my
.€a/se. I will tell you just what I did.—- After a

* - ••.-

220 rilmRTAifT coNVERSATioifs V¥nra

season (^ mticb doubt and terror, during vMA I'i
fett 88 if all was delusion, and I should be cast mk>
hell, 1 determined to go at once boldly to Grod, in
the ntrme of Christ, and plead the promises which
were then before me in the Bible. — ^I f<^IL doiffi
upon my knees — ^I groaned — ^I wept-^— I ^H^yed
most fervently— I said, Here I am, Lord, a poor
perishing sinner — ^My sins are heavy and alarming
— ^I cannot bear them myself — ^I feel my body
decaying — ^I must soon die, and I dare not appear '
before Thee, the pure and holy God, as I now anil
— ^I read of a Saviour thou hast provided for sin«-
ners, and I come to him to be saved from eternal
death — ^I come to the cross of Christ — ^I cling t€^ it
as my only hope — ^If thou, O Christy will not save
me, no one else can, and I must peririi — ^Lord^
save me — Jesus I have mercy on me ( I persevered
thus again and again — ^I kept on praying in this
vmy — -I took nothing with me but a broken hearty
and a contrite spirit, and I said, ' Lord 1 I will not
go except thou bless me P I know I prayed sincerely^
and I was heard and answered. I found that
promise true, " Whosoever cometh unto me, I will
in no wise cast out." (rod was good to me. My
soul required severe discipline, but he comforted
me in his own time — I found Christ able and w3l-
ing to do all I required — I was enabled to receive
him as my complete salvation, and I sometimes had
such peace in believing on him, — such hours of
mispeakable happiness^ that the remembrance et it
makes up for all this sufiering. I never again lost
my hope with Christ, though for the moment wf
disease overpowered me and clouded the past.
Now I tell you all this for your encouragement and
direction. Seek as I did, and you will find the
same pardon for sin, the same peace in death.**
We next talked about prayer. I told him of the
difficcilties I felt I remember well his eager look

• • -it ,

.- • 4

" ^ o'-^.THE MEMBERS OF HIS VAJgB^. ^ 221

as he saidy ^ Not find comfort in prayer, 4tf^ F>r— ?
It sounds like a strange contradiction 49 jDiys.-^t is
my only comfort. When I am able topt^^ I am
sure to be happy, and my prayer is that 1 may have
strength and sense to pray. But I must remember
bow differently we are circumstanced — ^I am just
entering eternity — ^I see every thing in a new light,
as I n^ver did before — as none but a dying person
can see — ^All my thoughts and feelings are changed
*— I have not memory now to recollect how I used
to feel, when I first began to pray — ^Perhaps I had
the same doubts — ^my memory is gone — ^Oh ! how
the Lord has humbled me — ^I used to be so proud ci
my understanding — ^I can now scarcely answer the
simplest question.'' Presently he seemed to gather
strength and said, "We were talking about prayer;
yes, all my comfort is in prayer. There mwt be
comfort in prayer — ^The chief thing is to examine
your heart — ^Ask Gk)d to search it for you — ^Take
care you are cherishing no secret sin or hidden idoL
God is a merciful G^, but he is a jealous Grod,
and he Ivill have the whole heart — Only persevere
in praying, and indeed you will find comfort in
prayer." He then told me how seriously^i had
peen impressed upon his mind, that his death was
to be the life of others. " I think, my dearly loved
sister, it is for your good ; and will not this thought
make you more in earnest ? (M / / vxndd die ten
painful deaths to sam one sovll We shall meet
again in heaven. Now come and kiss me, and let
me lean upon you." He rested a short time and

said, " Now send for H , I want to speak to her

. while my strength lasts.*' His conversation with

^ * ilfcher was very searching, but very affectionate. He

iMoved his sister very dearly. She was naturally

c ^ volatile and buoyant in her spirits, and this disposi*

*** tion sometimes betrayed her into levity. The live*

jiness of her conversation had often pleased hini»

20*

♦ ■*• •

222 •' y CONVBBSATIONS UTITH /^^^• ^

but he now tboaght l>e bad encouraged her in sonie
things inconsistent with real piety. He was earnest
beyond his strength in conversing with her. He
put very plain and close questions ;->-saying, *^I
must be answered ; — ^I must speak plainly ; — ^I am
afraid, my beloved sister, you do not think enough
about religion. I do not see decided proofs of real
conversion in you. I ^ave not a sure hope, that if

Jou die as you now are, I shall meet you in
eaven. Oh ! H , it is my last request — ^with

my dying breath I am entreating you to seek the
salvation of your soul. Suppose you were in my
place — ^in this chair instead of me — waitmg for
death day by day — could you meet it as I do. Oh I
do, my dear nster! do think of death while you are
in health. If I had not sought Christ before i was
brought so low, I should have no strength or sense
to seek him now. I went to Jesus as a poor weak
sinner, and found sweet rest, and I am happy now
amidst all this suffering.^' He spoke in a very
affectionate manner oC the subject nearest her heart
"Your merry peal will soon succeed my death-
knell. Take care that the good seed is not choked
by the pleasures of life \ — Seek first the kingdom of

God. Remember H , you Jiave to die. Oh ! I

cannot leave you in peace, unless I have a good
hope that I shall meet you in heaven. If I thought
there was one amongst you-— oh! I cannot bear

that thought!"" — He continued, "H ^ there is

nothing so opposed to religion, — to the mind of
Christ, — as levity and trifling. It will keep you
back more than anything. Take my solemn warn-
ing — I speak from my own experience, — ^you wiH
never be a consistent Christian, and you will nev
grow in grace, if you indulge in habitual trifli _
conversation. It is not like the mind of Christ ;f
your temper is very playful and volatile, and Sataa
may use it as a snare to injure your souk PietjfoadL

• ;*^ ^ 'itaB MEMBERS OF Hlf FAMILT. 233

hwty cannot long dwell in Hie same heart. One will
destroy the other. ******

You see, dear H ^, I am very plain and sincere.

I uaecl to be shy. But I do not feel afraid of
speaking my mind now. How little does one care
about the world and its opinions when death is near ;
death takes away all reserve. I care not if the
whole world were assembled around me — ^I .would
tell them what I now think of religion — ^I should
like to see Inany here, that I might tell them what
the Lord hath done for my souL" He then sent for

H y his favourite brother and companion.

Willy was much affected. He seemed to say fare-
well to H with deep emotion. He entreated

him to supply his place in every thing — ^particularly
in being a comfort to his father, and filling his place
in the ministry. On this latter subject he spoke
much. He said, *'From a child it has been my
delight to think of being a clergyman of the Church
of England ; but it is €k>d's will to pass me by, and

take you, dear H ^ and honour you thus. I

resign my place to you — ^Fill it faithfully." — ^Then

turning to his father, he said, " Give H a double

portioja of your love. He is to fill my place, as well
as his own^ to you. — ^I make a transfer to him of
all the affection you have borne to me.*' He

f)aused for breath and then continued, ** We have
oved each other very dearly, we always loved as
brothers amidst our little quarrels — did we not ? I
love you now more than ever, and I must talk to
you about your soul.'' He addressed him in very
plain language, asking him questions* H
. . 'seemed confused and depressed, for there were
others present. Willy said, ." Poor H — --, you feel
ihy on this subject — I used to feel the same once—-
I could not speak once, but that reserve is all gone.
--—I am not ashamed to say what I feel now. Yo«
.will feel as I do, some day/' He then begged that

#♦■ r •

224 CONYBRSATIONS WITH «•. ^ (•/ «

all would retire and leave H alone with him.

No one heard the conversation which- passed
between them. He next sent for his younger
brothers : — they wept much as he addressed them.
He spoke very touchingly to his younger sister, who
was then a little child. '' Would you like to meet

poor Willy in .heaven, dear C y then you must

loye God. Pray to God to make you love him, and
io make you a good child. Will you promise me

one thing, my dear C , that you will never go

out of your room in the morning until you have read
a few verses in the Bible, and prayed to Gk>d. If
you do not pray to God, you will not meet poor
Willy in heaven. I will give you a verse to think
of when I am dead. ''Suffer little children to
come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is
the kingdom of heaven.** Say that verse to your-
self every night when you lie down.'*
' He sent for several people in the village to come
and bid him farewell. There was one old person
for whom he had a dpecial regard. She had been
much with him in his childhood, and he used to tell
her, " if he lived to be a man, and had a house of
his own, she should come and keep it." He held
out his hand to her affectionately, and, alluding to
his promise, said, '' I shall have no house in tins
world, Nanny, for you to come and keep — but I
shall still have a house — a house not made with
hands, eternal in the heavens." His countenance
as he spoke, assumed a singularly sweet and happy
expression — such a beaming look of love and joy,
that every one noticed it. The hectic flush glowed
on his cheek — his eyes sparkled with a peculiar
lustre — and the marble forehead was smooth and
placid. It was the parting loveliness of ^ body
irradiated by a soul full of meekness, calmness, joy,
and confidence. Instead of being exhausted by
such lengthened conversations, as we expected, ha

THE MBMBERS OF HU rAMILT. :^25

seemed full of vigour, and rather refreshed. He
conversed a good deal* With both his parents.
** What a striking answer,'* he said, " I have iiad to
prayer ; God has allcrwed me time $ind strength to
speak to you all, and has so filled me with sweet
peace and joy, that I never could have conceived
there was such happiness to be known here." He
then said, *^ I should like the whole family to assem-
ble round me, that I may look at you altogether,
while I am so happy." He then offered up a fer-
vent and touching prayer to Gk)d, blessing him for
his great goodness, and commending us to hira for
salvation. He paused a moment and conchided,
^ Lord ! now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,
for mine eyes have seen thy salvation."

^* He remained in this happy frame of mkid a
short time, when all seemed to pass away as a
dream : the fever returned — great suffering succeed-
ed — his whole frame was agitated. At intervals
he referred to the past season of happiness, and the
recollection of it comforted him. He repeated
what he had before said, -several times, " I woidd
go through all again for one such sweet hour."

** In the evening he was dejected by a dread of
delirium, and prayed earnestly that he might retain
his senses to the last, often exclaimmg, ^' I cannot
fflorify thee in delirium." He called this a happ^
day, beeause he thought he had done good by his
faithful addresses.

*' My father came to read and pray with him,
before he retired to rest. Willy said, ** I am too
tired to listen. I should like to dream of the past ;
papa, there will be no distraction in heaven."

•'Friday was a mournful day. My brother^s
sufferings were greatly increased. He could find
no position in which to rest. He breathed with
diflSculty, and at times seemed almost suffocated ;
«od the soul, as if in sympathy with the body,

226 CONVERSATIONS WITH

became full of doubt and terror. He called out in
great agitation-r— ** Oh ! pray for me — pray for me
*-H3ay something to comfort me." I read him some
verses from ibe xliiiv of Isaiah. He continued to
exclaim — ** Oh I pray for me, pray for me ! I am in
great suffering." I opened the Annals of the Poor,
and read to him the account of the Dairyman's
Daughter's last hours. He listened attentively, and
then repeated the words, " The Lord deals very
gently with me, and gives me peace. It is not dark,
my Lord is there, and he is my light and salvation."
He appeared a little more composed, and I turned
to the tract of Little Jane. I read to him some
passages. *' Ah 1" said he, '' they got safe through,

and why not I ? I am glad, dear F , thgt ^oa

thought of the Dairyman's Daughter and Little
Jane. They are just the examples I want. They
suffered much, but it was not dark to th^pi. Oh,
death ! death I what is it? I have still to go through
death — the dark valley." He sat for some time in
' silence, with his head resting on the table. Though
he did not speak, I coukl perceive that there was
something passing in his mind which shook his
whole frame. Suddenly, with a wild expression of
countenance,, and in a bitter tone, he exclaimed —
^ Oh ! agony ! agony ! agony ! agony ! I shall perish
a^r all." I was much frightened, and went to call
my father. I told, him Willv must be delirious.
When my father saw him, he said, '^ Oh no ! this is
not delirium. I^ know exactly what he is passing
through." He sat down beside Wilberforce, and
began to talk soothingly to him, but he refused to be
comforted. He still cried out with his whole
remaining strength — " Oh agony ! agony ! agony !
Satan will have me after all-^apa, pray for me, he
tells me I shall be lost — ^He tells me my sins will
damn me— Oh, papa, this is aeony ! — all is dark,
dark — all gone— all lost-'— and has Christ btxHight

THB MEMBEBS OF HIS FAMILY. 227

me thus far to leave me at last ?" My dear father
was much overcome at this scene, and struggled
hard fcrr composure. He repeated text after text ;
and with apparent calmness, and in hii own tender
and peculiar manner, enlarged on the faithful love
of the Saviour. He assured Willy of his full per-
suasion that Christ's honor was pledged in present-
ing his soul safe to the Father : that this was the
last attack of Satan : that he took advantage of his
bodily weakness, to distress, when he could not
harm him. But poor Willy seemed still more
agitated. The cold drops stood on his forehead—*
his look betrayed the deepest anguish, and he shook
with terror. " Oh ! papa ! what will become of
me," he cried ; ^' I am going into the dark valley
idane. Jesus has left me. It is all dark, dark, dark
— ^The rod and the staff do not support me —
Satan fights hkrd for me, and he will carry me
away at last.'' His bodily sufferings seemed quite
forgotten, and were lost in the bitter anguisti of his
mind, and he still continued to repeat, ^ agony— <
agony." — my dear father tried again by a variety of
arguments, and by a frequent appeal to scripture, to
support his despairing child, but in vain. He
seemed given up for a time to such sharp and sore
besetments as baffled all attempts to administer
comfort. After a silence of some minutes, and
when he seemed nearly fainting, my dear father
solemnly repeated, '* Simon, Simon, Satan hath
desired to have thee, that he may sifttbee as wheat;
but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not."
These were the first words that made any impres-
sion on Wilberforce. He said, *' Ah ! papa, I used
to love those words, but they are gone — I will try to
understand them — Say them again." My father
repeated the affecting words of the Saviour to his
tempted disciple. Willy listened to them with
mtense interest. When he heard the words, *' but

^ •

««

228 CONVERSATIONS WITH

I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail pot," he
exclaimed, '* Oh, my dear papa, do you think that
Christ is praying for me ? Does he pray for me in
this hour of darkness, when I have no faith ? "
" Certainly, my dear boy, I cannot doubt it. I am
quite sure he is praying for you at this instant.
Take courage then. Do you think Gk>d will not
hear Christ's prayer? "Him the Father heareth
always." His mind became a little calmer, but he
still looked uneasy, and replied slowly, "Can I have
been brought to love him so, only to perish ? Can
such feelings as I have — such a hatred of sin, be
fitting me for hell ? No, it cannot be — Such feel-
ings could not exist in hell — He will save me as the
chief of sinners." Presently he exclaimed, "Jesus
has not left me. I see him again — ^more precious
than ever — my Saviour — my hope. How could I
distrust him — I am more than conqueror. Papa, I
feel safe — ^I am Christ's — ^Why did I doubt ? I am
so strengthened. Dear, papa, I can give you no
idea of the anguish of my heart It exceeded all
I supposed endurable ; — I thought myself in Satan's
hands^it must have been such anguish as this which
made the Saviour cry out, " My God, my God, why
hast thou forsaken me." I never knew what suffer-
ing was before — I thought I was lost." "And
what do you now think ?" " I have great peace,
firm confidence, — I am so strengthened, papa, in my
faith — so strengthened^— hell shall not prevail ;
Christ has saved me — none shall pluck me out of
his hand. I should not be afraid to grapple with
this dreadful foe again — I should not be afraid if
Jesus were standing by" — and then shuddering at
his own recollections, he added, " But papa, I hope
God will not see it necessary to try me in this way
again ; I hope not — ^It was indeed a dreadful strug-
ge," " Why say so ?" said his father, " it is possible
God may see fit thus to try your faith again. . You

THE MEMBERS OF HIS FAMtLT. 229

see how he has supported you — you have been the
conqueror — why then shrink ?"

'* Oh no ! I will not shrink, I could go through it
again if it were God's will — ^I could not see my
Saviour in that dark hour, but now I know he was
near me." And then shuddering at his own words,
he added, '* but I hope it will not be necessary again
to try me thus."

'* This last sorrow attached him n(iore than ever
to his father. He could not bear that he should be
out of his sight, and Jistened to every word which
fell from him, with the most grateful love and con*
fiding simplicity. He truly hung upon his lips.
Never was there a more affecting sight, than to be*
hold this loving father, and no less loving son, now
blending every feeling and thought of their hearts
together, and so closely united in religious inter-
course, that they seemed as it were a twin soul.

** My father was obliged to leave Wilberforce
for a little while ; on his return, the latter looking
up with a smile said, '* Papa, I cannot pray now — I
am so very ill ; — but I have been praisingj^ " For
what, my dear boy ?" " I have been blessing GJod
for giving me such a father : — when I c^n say no-
thing else, I can praise God for such a dear father,
to whom I can tell all, and who helps me on to
heaven." This was almost too much for my father;
he could neither speak nor weep, he seemed ab*
sorbed in unutterable feeling^-the fountain of tears
was dried up.

" Willy did not wait for a reply. " I am sorry,
papa, I did not open my mind to you before, how
much happier I should have been, if I had done so.
I have now no reserve — I can tell you every thing
—-You are my friend and my guide — my dear, dear
papa, I do love you. You have so helped me in my
great triaL"

330 CONTERSATIONS WITH

In the evening he conversed with my father on
the bitter agony through which he had passed in
the morning, with calmness and faith. Some one
present asked him what he thought to be the best
evidence of conversion — "A broken heart and a
contrite spirit," he replied. " This is what I brought
to God, and it was the only evidence I could rely
on."

" The next day he expressed some impatience at
lingering so long, earnestly desiring that this might
be his last day, but he soon checked himself, and
prayed agafnst a restless spirit. He sometimes cried
out, " How long, how long ! when shall I be free !
How my spirit struggles to gel away from this poor
weary body ! Papa, do you think I shall linger here
another day ?" and without waiting for a reply he
said, " but my times are in thy hands=, Grod — I
must die daily — I will patiently wait thy will." He
called me to him, and gave me a copy of Miss Jer-
ram's Memoir. He said it had been of great use to
him, and that God's dealings witbher had sometimes
comforted him. " We both passed through great
sorrows, but God comforted us both in his own time.

Read it dear F ; I give you my copy — I have

no further need of it ; and may God bless it to you."
He asked to have the 17th chapter of St. John read
to him, and remarked " how very plain is the doc-
trine of that chapter. I wonder there should be so
much controversy ab^ut it "

" What is to-morrow ?" he asked " It is the Sab-
bath." He seemed plpased, and earnestly begged
that the congregation might be requested to pray
for him in the church. On Sunday morning he was
much weaker, and his end was evidently fast
approaching. To a kind friend who had nursed hini^
he said, "How do I look now?" She saw the
approach of death in his languid eye and pallid couor*

THE IIBMBEBS OF HIS FAHILY. 231

tenance. " You look worse, Master Wilberforce, I
do Qot think that you can live much longer." The
effect produced by her opinion was truiy astonish-
ing. His dim eye lighted up, all his features
assumed a new life, and turning to her, he said,

** Oh, thank you, dear Mrs. G , good news J you

tell me good news« Shall I indeed be in. heaven to
day J " My father came into the room. " Papa,'*
said he, ** how do I look — am I altered V " No,
nay dear boy. I see little difference in you.** He
was evidently disappointed. "Do you see no differ-
ence," said he, " Mrs. G^ does. 6he made me

fio happy.7— She thinks I may die to-day." My father
sat with him the whole of the day while we were
at churchy and ^illy asked him to read the service
tor the visitation of the sick. He listened with
devout attention, and when ii was ended, he said,
*' Oh my dear papa, what beautiful prayers ! what
an affecting service I it expresses my whole heart*'*

He ^then said to his mother, " I love to look at
you, mamma. I love to smile at you« but I want to
smile at Jesus." He asked her to draw near, and
let him lean on her bosom. " It is sweet to lean on
you dear mamma — but I long to lean on the bosom
of Jesus." He conversed with his father in the
aflernoon for the last time. Reference is made to
this conversation in his papers as follows.

" Agony, — conflict, — ^triumph, — glorying in tMn
second struggle with Satan — expecting anothet^
struggle — not fearing it. — ^The enemy subdued«
bruised under his feet. — ^Longing to be in heaven—*
not able to form any idea of another world, yet full
confidence of being there. — ^I know in whom I am
trusting— dreading to linger, yet bowing to the wiU
of God. — His joy in the prayers of the church for
him — Christ toUl save me."

'* He had been accustomed to teach a class in th
Suaday 3ctioolf and be^ed that his dying messag

333 wilberfqrce's death.

might be written down and sent to the children that
evening. He had not beea able to lie in bed for a
week, owing to the pain in his side, but on Sunday-
evening he expressed a wish to be undressed and
put into bed, being inclined to sleep. He was
accordingly put into bed, and lay very tranquil and
comfortable. My father stood watching beside bim
till he thought him asleep. He then went to his
study, as he afterwards told us, to pray that, if it
were God's wiil, his child might have quiet and ease
in his last moments ; for he much dreaded the sever-
ity of a dying agony, which from the past he thought
probable. As he was going away he blessed him,
and looking at him as he lay, serene and beautiful
in his repose, he said, " So he giveth his beloved
sleep." Willy opened his eyes on hearing these
words, and replied, " Yes, dear papa, and the rest
which Christ gives is sweet." These were his last
words. He immediately sunk into a long and peace-
ful slumber* We were sitting near him. Mrs, ^

his faithful nurse, stood and watched beside him.
We could hear distinctly every breath he drew, and
the least change in the sound was perceptible. One
or two breathings were slower and longer, which
made us get up and look at him. He appeared as
if slumbering very sweetly. — There was no altera-
tion in his countenance, and we were going to sit

down again, when Mrs. , said, " Call your papa

immediately." We did so, and he came just in time
to hear his last sigh. I think he awoke from sleep
but felt no pain, nor was sensible of death. My
father raised Willy's head upon his arm, and con-
templated it for a minute. The countenance looked
placid, as if it had beheld the Saviour's face in right-
eousness, and was satisfied. My father pressed the
lifeless body to his bosom, and burst into a flood of
tears, stru^ling with nature's anguish. At length
subduing fais feelings, he said, <' My child is a saint

i^OiBerfokce's death. 333

in glory." He bid us all follow him to the study)
(hat he might praise God for his mercy and loving-
kindness. He opened the Bible and read the last
two chapters of the Book of Revelations, and then
knelt down and prayed with us. It was a moment
not to be forgotten. Our dear father appeared so
absorbed in the contemplation of his child's entrance
into heaven, and its union with the spirits of the just
made perfect, as to be scarcely conscious of the
pres^ce of his family around him.

"Between the death and the funeral of -my
brother, my dear father's mind was often severely
exercised* Sometimes he would weep, and say,
**A11 thy waves and storms are gone over me," and
then ^ Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death
of his saints." " He giveth and he taketh away,
and blessed be his holy name." He would rise
early in the morning to gaze on the peaceful coun-
tenance of bis departed child. We overheard him
giving vent to the mingled emotion of his heart in
the chamber of death. But hg was comforted in
tribulation, and he returned to his family, to sooth
their sorrows with the comfort wherewith he was
comforted of God. He said little, but his calm and
subdued spirit bespoke Christian resignation. He
used to teach us that disquiet was the result of
distrust, and we saw in his silent submission an
example of his own principle, that his heart trusted
in God. " Though his hand be lifted up to destroy,
yet from that very hand do I expect salvation."*

" A vault was opened for Wilberforce under the
chancel. An incident occurred which much affected
us, and which showed the pious and affectionate
sympathy of the people in the sorrows of their
pastor. The workmen had not completed the vault
till past eleven o'clock at night, when they agreed

* Leighton.

21*

234 WiLtiERPORGB's BBATH.

to descend into it, and consecrate the place which
was shortly to receive our brother's remains, by
prayer* The sepulchre of the dead became holy
ground. They joined in praises to him who is the
resurrection and the life, and who has enlightened
the gloomy grave by his own presence. They
continued in prayer till midnight, commending their
beloved minister to the grace of Gk)d — invoking
blessings on his family, and entreating that this
mournful event might be over-ruled to the increase
of religion in the parish ; — and may we not hope
that prayer was heard ? * The subsequent state of
the village may be described as life from the dead.
In the morning of my brother's interment, my father
prayed with his family. I trust that the Spirit of
God poured out his special influence on the mindar
of those present. A friend afterwards observed,
** This is the fervent prayer of a righteous man,
which availeth much. Can we doubt that it is
recorded in heaven, and will long be remembered
on earth." %^,

"From this tyne, ptifdear father gave himself up
to the work of th^ ministry with redoubled dili-
gence. The congregations were large and atten-
tive. He went daily from cottage to cottage
amongst the poor, warning, exhorting, comforting,
and confirming the souls of the disciples in the
grace of God. He used to meet persons nearly
every evening in the week, for prayer and exposi-
tion of the Scriptures, Many a heart in Turvey
fitill glows at the recollection of these seasons.
There was a genenB revival of religion both
amongst old and young, njid scarcely a day passed
in which some one did^ not anxiously inquire,
.jLWhat must I do to be saved ? '* There might be
ro this excitement son^ething that was of a doubtful
character, but there were certainly many real con-
versions, and a general and increased attention

.»';V^.

WILBERFORCE*S DEATH. 335

towards religion, unknown at any former period.
My father seldom left his parish, or saw any one
out of his own family ; to whom he became still
more endeared, and for whose progress and .^.
improvement in religion, he manifested an anxiety "'^
even to depression, and an earnestness which im-
paired his own health. He had naturally very high * ♦
spirits, and was at times playful in his conversation ;
but now, though he sometimes smiled, he was ever
thoughtfill, pensive, and silent. He appeared to be *
wounded by the least approximation to levity, and
was continually pressing on us a more serious
apprehension of eternity. On one occasion, when
he thought we had indulged in a conversation too
little in unison with the late event — ^he made no
remark at the time, but the next morning I found
on jny table the following note.

"My dearest Child,
" There is a degree of relief to a tender spirit in
the communication of it^ thoughts and feelings.
The affecting scenes of this time twelvemonth have
scarcely ever been absent from my recollection
even for a moment. In the^midst of our (perhaps,
too great) hilarities, I have pictured to my imagina-
^ tion Willy dying last week, and this week dead in
the house. Have we all felt and done as much as
we ought on this most affecting occasion ? Is the
sacredness and solemnity of that interesting period
preserved in our hearts? Has the erection of
another tablet in the church sufGciently moved our
affections ? Monday evening was a trjdng hour to
my heart. My poor Willy died on that day, and
as on next Sunday we buried him. • Oh I let you

and I, my much loved F ^ ponder these things

in our souls for good. Amidst the living, let us not
forget the dead- * # % •

L. R.''

• c

236 wuiBerforce's death.

**My dear father for many years had been
accustomed to write pastoral letters to his parish-
ioners, which were read in the school-room to
those who chose to attend. The following address
to them was written soon after my brother's death.

**My dear Friends, Neighbours, and

Parishioner?.

"In the midst of my sorrows at the removal
of my dearly-loved child, I wish you to know that
the Lord supports me wonderfully. I cannot yet
come out amongst you, but I cannot be quite silent.
I have therefore desired my friend and fellow-
labourer to read this letter to you. I have preached
the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ to you more
than nineteen years, and through his mercy I have
seen some precious fruits of these labours amongst
you, but never have I witnessed st more beautiful
or triumphant evidence, that I have not taught,
preached, or lived in vain, than in the case of my
dear son, now a sharer of the Redeemer's glory in
heaven. Oh, what a call for praise, that he was
not only my natural, but also my spiritual child.
Such was his love to Christ, and Christ's love to
him, that I am lost in wonder, love, and praise. I
am persuaded there are many of you, who feel
deeply for me. You can weep for me when I
weep, and rejoice with me when I rejoice. You
have prayed for my child. It was the delight of
his heart to hear of your love and sympathy, and
he dwelt on the interest you took in his welfare, to
the very day of his death. He was indeed a boy
of no common mind, and the Lord sanctified his
great natural endowments to his own glory. I feel
more and more every hour what a treasure I have
lost ; but at the same time I see more and more
what a blessedness he has attained. I have been
fvatching him at home and abroad, with a parent'i

wilberforce's death. 237

eye and a Christian's heart, both for his body and
soul, ever since disease fastened on his frame last
summer, and no one will ever know what my
anxieties have been during that period. But I trust
God meant all for my good. The trial, severely as
I have felt it, has shown me more of myself, and
more of my God. My prayers for my dear chi)d
have been abundantly answered. Blessed be God !
he was enabled to disclose his whole heart to me,
and to others, before he was taken away. He con-
versed with many in a most useful and edifying
manner, exhorting them to prayer, faith, and holi<
ness. He could tell them all, that he knew in
whom he trusted, and could look at death with
perfect peace. Believe me, then, when I tell you,
that though I am greatly affected, and humbled in
the dust with a sense of sin and sorrow, yet that
my mercies are so abounding in abounding chas-
tisement, that I can, and do rejoice in tribulation.
Oh ! may it work patience, and patience experience,
and experience hope, and may hope make me more
faithful and diligent, and I be not ashamed of the
gospel in principle or practice, for your sakes, as
well as my own. It is a great comfort to me how,
as I am kept from ministering to you for a season,
that you have one amongst you who preaches the
flame truth, and in the^ same spirit. May our
common Lord and Saviour bless him, and you, aA#
roe together. I beg your prayers, at this season i^
particular, for me and mine. They are no lon^r
needful for my beloved son. Let them be tfans-
ferred to the surviving members of my family.
Pray especially for those who watch for your souls
*— that we may experience help and comfort in
ourselves, and dispense the word of life with more
zeal and love. Pray that there may be no divisions
or wanderings of heart amongst us—- that we naay
be all of one mind and judgment in the things which

«il

3^ wilbervorce's death.

make for our everlasting peace. Pray that the
young children may be brought up in the nurture
and admonition of the Lord. My dear boy sent
them a message on his dying bed, which was read
to them a short time before his believing happy soul
centered into rest. May the whole school remem-
ber it for his sake^ and their soul's sake. God bless
you all« my dear friends^ I cannot doubt, but that
you will bear me oq your hearts to a throne of grace.

Your aflfectionate Minister,

L. R."

** When my father resumed his labours amongst
the people, he seemed to be aware of his declining
health though he said nothing to the family. His

' visual and only reply, when we expressed our fears,
iwras, " I must work while it is called to-day. The
night Cometh when no man can work." He
appeared moulded into the spirit of the Apostles,

'.'* affectionately desirous to spend and be spent in
the service of his flock, and to impart to them not
only the gospel of Christ, but, if it were possible,
his own soul also ; and the people caught the holy
contagion of his fervent zeal and love. There was
between them an almost unexampled reciprocity of
regard and desire to glorify God, and walk humbly,
justly, and unblameably before him."* •

" You will receive with indulgence the overflow-
ings of my heart towards a father whose memory
IS still cherished by his family and by his parish-
ioners, with the deepest gratitude, and I hope we
may add, with an unfeigned anxiety to walk in the
fiteps of his bright example, and meet him again in
ei^erlasting glory.

Believe me, my very dear Sir,

Your afiectionate and faithful

F ."^

♦ 1 Thegs. iv. 3.

MEMOIR OF 239

CHAPTER EC

Sure 'tis a solemn thing to die, my soul. — Blair.

This only can reconcile us to the grave, that our greatest hopes
lie beyond it — Hows.

We proceed, tvith the same view of illustration, to
notice some particulars relating to the third daughter
of Mr. Richmond, who survived her father only a
year and a half. She also was the child of faith
and prayer, and equally the object of his tender
solicitude with the rest of his family.

I am not warranted to present her character as
an instance of high attainment in piety, but the
exercises of her mind during her last illness, suffi-
ciently disclose the salutary effect of a religious
.education, and while we indulge the pleasing hope
that she has joined her beloved father in the man-
sions of the blessed, her case will afford additional
encouragement to the christian parent, to^ow in his
cljildren's hearts the seeds of eternal life, which,
watered " by the early and latter rain, seldom fail
to spring up and ripen to reward his labours, as
occasions arise in the varying circumstances and
events of life.

This amiable young woman " possessed an ex*
uberance of animal spirits and a turn for the ludi-
crous, which was very difficult to be restrained
within the bounds of discretion, and gave her dear
father much anxiety."* '

*. Extracted from Mrs. R^s letter to the Author.

240 MR bichhokd's third daughter.

VCv*'*" "^ volatile temper is in all cases a grievous
^ hindrance to intellectual and spiritual improvement.
Crood conversation cannot consist with the indul-
gence of '* foolish talking and jesting/' and the nnind
IS diverted by it from solid and useful pursuits.
We may attempt to excuse this cast of character,
and speak of it as a playfulness of temper; but
after all, it cannot be approved. The disposition to
amuse ourselves with the defects or peculiarities of
others, may generally be traced to vanity in our^
selves, and is a habit of mind wholly inconsistent
with the spirit of humility and love, as well as a sad
forgetfulness of that solemn caution, '* Every idle
word that a man shall speak, he shall give an
account thereof at the day of judgment."*

There was not, however, any thing cynical or
severe in the strain of this young person's conver-
sation. She was naturally frank, open, and kind-
hearted, and to oblige another was a real satisfaction
to herself. It was rather a thoughtless propensity,
common to many young people, "to giggle and
make giggle,''t that I am lamenting.

It is difficult to speak of the dead so as not to
wound the tender feelings of the living, but when
it is required to pourtray character, the simple
declaration of the truth is best, and is indeed the
only course consistent with Christian integrity.
She who forms the subject of my present remarb,
affixed a solemn seal to their truth in the affecting
review which she took of the past, in her dying
hours. It is a source of much congratulation that
she is now beyond the opinion of man, whose
imperfect knowledge renders him at all times
incompetent to pronounce on his fellow creatures,
and should remind him of the danger of assuming a

* Matt. xii. 36.
t Cowper*! Letterf.

TO HIS DAUOHtalU 241

prerogative he cannot claim. ''Judge nothing

before the time/' r

Mr. Richmond placed his daughter at school

at , where be expected the strictest attention

would be paid to her principles and conduct. I
have no reason to suppose that he was dissatisfied
with the care and vigilance of those to whom he
had entrusted his child; but whatever she had
acquired in other respects, it does not appear that
at the close df her education she had made any
advancement in religion.

About this time Mr. R. addressed the following
letter to her :

" Dear H ,

"And now comes your turn. Receive, read,
mark, and inwardly digest. I do not know how
much you are grown in stature, but I do hope you are
growing in wisdom. Then, whether you are to be a
woman tall, or a woman short, will signify very
little. You will, if your wisdom be of the right
kind, be of a tall mind and of tall attainments, an j
we will call you the little woman with the great
soul. I have heard of a person's soul being so mean
and small, that if you were to put it into a liollow
mustard seed and shake it well, it would rattle.
Now that is not the sort of soul I wish to discover
in you. I want to see a soul in you which can em-
brace all useful and requisite knowledge— -a soul
which can extend its energies beyond ordinary
limits — ^which can feel for all around you, and carry
its benevolent activity throughout the universe —
which can contemplate the globe, such a one as you

study at B , and find new problems upon it —

as how to carry the gospel into all latitudes and all
longitodes— bow to excite pity iMr Hie poor heathen

342 MR. SlOHMOND^S LETT£B8

in every zone and climate of the world — how to
equalize all nations in the sympathy of Christiao
love, and thus make a spiritual equator — ^how to
estimate the coldness of irreligion in the burning
regions of the tropics, and how to carry the lively
heat of evangelical charity into the districts of the
poles. I would have you capable of grasping all
these questions in your heart, with as much ease as
your hands would clasp a doll, or as mine would
clasp your own dear self to my bosom. But why
do I wish that your soul may become thus capacious?
Simply to this end — ^that you may thereby resemble
him who so loved the world, that he came into it to

save sinners ; yes, sinners, H , like unto you*

Have you ever thought of this great truth as you
ought ? Is foolishness still bound up in the heart
of my child ? Is human existence only to be esti-
mated by play-things, and holidays, and all the &c's.
of a light-minded state ? What, a young damsel
almost fourteen years old, and no more progress in
divine things ! Study your Bible, and remember
your privileges. Study your Bible, and dig deep
for a foundation whereon to build our house. Study
your Bible, and say what must become of all the
thoughtless little girls in the world, if they do not
repent and believe. Once more, study your Bible,
and learn what you first owe to (Jod, and then to
your parents, and then to brothers and sisters, then
to teachers, and then to school-fellows, and then to
all mankind. Such a meditation will, with God's
blessing, prove a merciful hour to your own soul,
and for the sake of your's, to my soul also. I hope
you will now pursue your education with earnest-
ness. Now is the time to lay in a stock of useful
knowledge. You cannot set too high a value on
the advantages which you possess. Whether you
eat or drink, or. whatever you do, do all to the glory
of God. Chtyi^wa^ ^^^ its vanities njust sp^dily

• I

".'•i-*

TO ms DAUOHTBR. 24S

pass away, and you must have done with childish
things. Learn to pray, and commit your whole
soul and body to Christ. He is able to keep what
you give into his hand, unto the great day when the
secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, You are
now at the age of which little Jane did this. Are
you like her ? are you as ready to meet your God as
she was? Ask the question of your heart, and
carry it to the throne of mercy, where all praying
souls are made welcome. I hope you like the
Bible-meeting at Northampton. I wish you early
to cultivate a cordial interest in that great work —
the greatest work of the age. In the day when
Dame Eleanor's cross* was built, the Bible was
unknown to the greatest part of the country. What
a contrast now ! The angel flies through heaven
and earth, presenting it to all. The stone cross was
once almost an idol ; but the true cross proclaimed
in the Bible, is the real Christian's ensign, prop, and
delight. Farewell, dear love. I am

Your own dear father,

L. R."

The next letter was written to the same daughter
on her birth-day.

« Dear H ,

" The. return of a birth-day is the signal for grat-
itude. Fourteen years ago, as I sat in my Tittle
study at Brading, in the Isle of Wight, about six in ^
the morning, in came a woman bearing in ber arms
a little baby, and wished me joy of the same — now
this little baby was a httle girl, and that little girl

was my H , and now is the 15th time that joy

has been uttered from year to year whenever that

* This cross is erected about a milefitHBjNprthamptoD, and
was once held ip great veneration by Catliofie ^votees.

•r • -
' . ■ ■ •

* >

344 BiR. Richmond's letters

day was named. But what is joy i Is it only a
holiday ? But what is joy ? Is it only a game of
play,— is it merely a jumping, and frisiung, and run-
ning, and chattering, and doTl-dressing, and merry-
making, and feast-keeping ? Is this all the joy of a
birth-day? Away, far away, be all such feeble
interpretations of the word. Then what is a birth-
day joy ? Is it not the joy of parents, when they
see their children growing up in the fear of the
Lord, and in the practice of holiness ? Is it not the
joy of the husbandman, when he sees his crop ripe
and plentiful, and offering the promise of harvest ?
Is it not the joy of the gardener, when he perceives
his young trees thrive, and blossom, and bear fruit ?
Is it not the joy of the mother-bird, when after all
her watchings, and tremblings, and flutterings over
the nest, she sees her little ones begin to fly, and
become capable of answering the end of divine
providence in their creation ? Is it not the joy of
the Christian instructor, when after hours, and days,
and months, and years spent in warning, teaching,
guiding, praying for, and affectionately superintend-
mg the young pupil's best interests — ^that pupil
proves a living commentary on the precepts receiv-
ed, grows in grace, and love, and humility, and
activity and obedience, and as. a bud of promise
cheers the hearts of surrounding friends with pros-
pects of usefulness through life in all its relative cir-
cumstances? If such be the ingredients of birth-
day joy when duly estimated, may I be gratified in
expressing my joy to-day, and can you also partici-
pate in'joy thus appreciated ? God bless you, my

dear H , on this day, and on every day. Time

flies, opportunity flies, the school-hour flies, child-
hood flies, all things are hastening to a grand con-
summation, — what a solemn thought ! May my
child conceive and cherish it to the glory of God,
and her own .everlasting consolation. May Christ

TO HIS DAUGHTER. 245

become to her a gracious Saviour, received, loved
and honoured by her. Such is the prayer of her
affectionate father.

On an occasion of indisposition, Mr. R. writes
again.

"Dear H.

** My anxious wish for your spiritual and temporal ^.^
welfare induces me to express my thoughts to you ^u*
in these little notes. I cannot tell you how much I •
desire that this season of sickness may be blessed of
God to your present and everlasting good. Thig
thought is continually before me, and I pray con-
stantly to him that you may be inwardly strength- / ^
ened by the power of his might. Examine your- ^ . ?r
self, rrove yourself. Bring your heart and all " 'r-}
your thoughts before Grod, and make a solemn sur-
render of yourself to him. Employ with gratitude
and patience the means which are prescribed for
your recovery, but trust in him alone. Physicians
can do nothing without his blessing on the medicines.
I thank Grod for your last note, and shall be much
pleased when you can and will write me another.
Above all things be much in prayer, in the watches
of the night speak to Grod ; in the events of the day,
tell him how much you need and depend on him.
In moments of weakness, ask him for strength ; in
seasons of pain, petition for contentment. He will
of his riches abundantly supply your need. But you
must deal faithfully with yourself, and humbly and
perseveringly with him. Be not content with
merely saying, Christ died for sinners. Try to get
an evidence that you have a personal interest in
him. This may be known by the state of your
heart towards him. ''We love him because he

22*

246 MR. Richmond's letters

first loved us." His love produces love, and our
love to him proves that he has loved, and does love
us. Are j^ou isnorant 1 he is wisdom. Are yon
guilty 1 he is righteousness. Are you unholy ? he is
sanctification. Are you a captive ? he is redemp-
tion. What is he not to the sinner? his sti^ngth is
perfect in the believer's weakness. He was tempted
in all points like as we are, and therefore knows
how to succour them that are tempted. O my
child ! if you can only cleave to him, and all that
he is, and all he has promised to be, nothing can
harm you. Meditate on these things, and may God
make them quite and entirely your own. Now for
a text for reflection. *' In all our afflictions he was
afflicted."

''Not a pang ever distressed our bodies, nor
a trial our hearts, but Jesus has felt it, and he not
only felt it in himself, but he feels it for, and in us.
What a consolation is here ! This thought bos sup-
ported thousands in their trouble. May it support
you. Behold Christ is in every thing, see him every
where, acknowledge him in every trial; for he
sympathises in all the trials of them that are his.
They have not one pain too many. Even sufferings
will all work together for good to them that love

him. I wish my loved H may see, feel,

believe, and enjoy this encouraging thought, and
make it her own. God love and bless you. So
prays,

Your affectionate Father,

L. iv.

On another occasion he writes : —

"Dear Love,

" The heart of man is deceitful above all things,

and desperately wicked, who can know it ? So

said the prophet of old, and so will every one say

that knows the plague of his own heait. I want

r •

TO HIS DAUOHTBR. 247

you to employ your whole time now in studying
your heart, that you may increasingly feel the need
of a Saviour. Who else can cleanse your heait,
but he who died for its salvation. Do not be con-
tented with a little religion, a little knowledge, a
little hope. Press forward to the enjoyment of a great
and gracious religion, much knowledge of Christ,
and a glorious hope full of immortality. I am in-
deed most anxious that you may now in right earnest
seek and find the Lord. <* What must I do to be
saved ?" is a great question. How shall my deceit-
ful heart be renewed. Whenever I die, whither
shall I go ? are all questions connected with it. Ask
God with all your heart for a right answer.

Your affectionate Father,

L. R.'

This letter was followed by another under the
same circumstances.

" Dear Child,

" Your reminding me not to foi^et to write to
you, leads me to hope that you read my little notes
with a desire to profit by them. You do not know
how anxious I am for your soul's good. What God
designs for you in the present illness, I know not ;
but this I know, that you cannot be too earnest
about your eternal state. You cannot mourn for
sin too deeply. You cannot love Christ too affec-
tionately. You cannot trust in his blood and
righteousness too firmly. I want you to be a monu-
ment of mercy ; a believing, loving, praying child.
If God is pleased to restore you to health, may you
adorn the doctrine which you have been taught,
and if he should see good to remove you to anotner
world, O if^y you sleep sweetly in Jesus. Be

348 MR. Richmond's letters

much in prayer: "Seek and ye shall find.*' No
favour is too great for God to grant. You are past
the age of childish ignorance, and are now an
accountable being.

*'My H , nothing will satisfy me short of

your being a true child of God. What effect have
recent events produced on your mind? What
desires, what fear^, what hopes, what views of sin
and Christ ? * * * * j^^y God make
you a joy to your affectionate Father,

L. iv.

In the year 1825, an offer of marriage was made
to this daughter, of which Mr. R. expressed his
cordial approbation in the following short note.

"My dear friend,

" On consulting Mrs. R. and our dear H f

they both agree, that the beginning of July is the
earliest period at which the object in view can be
accomplished. So leaving it in their hands, I simply
put my seal of approbation and consent to their
decision ; and I do so with a heart full of love and
esteem for you both. May God bless your pros-
pects, and your souls in them. I love all my
children too well not to say, that in committing

H into your hands, I give you one of my

cherished treasures, and sources of domestic en-
dearment. I feel parting with my daughter the
more, from the removal of my loved, my much-
loved Wilberforce. His death, with all. its affecting
associations, has had a peculiar, I trust a very useful
effect upon all my feelings, sentiments, ministrations,
prospects, and thoughts for time and eternity. The
subject is wound up with my heart's experience, in
a way I can never describe. I pray Grod to over-

TO HIS DAVGHTBR. 249

rule it for the present and eternal good of myself
and my dear family. Your^s very truly and affeo
tionately.

L. R.''

Previous to the marriage of his daughter, Mr. R.
put into her hands a paper of directions for her
future conduct, which for simplicity, affection, and
sound practical wisdom, may be considered one of
the best dowries that a Christian parent could
bestow pn his child.

The paper is entitled, '^ Marriage admonitions to
H , from her affectionate father, L. R."

"My much loved daughter,

" When your sister Mary left her partemal roof, I
gave her a paper of admonitions, which I requested
her sometimes to read for her own and for her
father's sake. I do the same for you, in the form
of a friendly string of maxims to regulate your
conduct in your new and very responsible situation.

" 1st. Aim at keeping a devoted heart for God
in the least and most common transactions of every
hour, as well as in those events which may seem to
call the loudest for manifestations of religious con-
science and principle.

" 2nd. Pray regularly and frequently, not seldom
and occasionally, for grace to live and die by.

'^ 3rd. Remember the principles and professions
of your father's house, and every where endeavour
to preserve its character, by consistency in conduct,
conversation, and temper.

" 4th. Form no hasty intimacies, and none what-
ever but such as may promote seriousness of heart,
tongue, and demeanour.

" 5th. Beware of cheerfulness degenerating into
levity, and ignorance of the world into prejudice.

•

S50 MARRIAGE ADMONITIOKS*

^' 6th. Guard against hasty judgments of char^
acter, and above all against hastily uttering senti-
ments, and making remarks to the disparagement
of others.

"7th. Wherever you are, not only remember
that Gkni^s eye is upon you, but imagine to yourself
that your husband and father are also present. It
may be a fanciful, but it is a profitable supposition.

*' 8th. Keep in constant recollection the wise,
prudent, and conscientious example of your dear
mother. Be cautious when in religious company,
and endeavour to sustain a deportment which may
induce the excellent of the earth to desire your
society for their own sake as well as your's.

"9th. Particularly "avoid making the errors,
failings, faults or .follies of good people, either in
private or public matters, the subject of rash and
unguarded remarks. Be known for charity, for-
bearance, and kindness.

" 10th. Keep Christ's golden rule, Luke vi. 31.
in perpetual remembrance, it is the panacea for
most of the evils of life, so far as they are connected
with social intercourse.

" 11th. Entertain no prejudices against nations,
churches, sects, or parties ; they are the bane of
.*^ truth, charity, and comfort, and are directly opposed
to the letter and spirit of Christianity. You may
and ought to have a conscientious, well-founded
preference, but not one half-formed, ill-formed
prejudice against any one.

*' 12th. Be conscientious towards all, friendly
with few, intimate with fewer still, strictly confi-
dential with fewest of all.

" 13th. From the hour you marry, you assume
the characterof a matron ; be not a childish, girlish
wife ; the vows of Gk>d are upon you, sQilain their
gravity and prudence in all things.

MABBIAOE ADMONinoyS. 351

" 14th* If circumstances and friendly connec-
tions lead you into the superintendence of charitable
institutions, enter upon your office with prayer and
consideration, and persevere in the discharge of its
duties with patience and well-guided zeal.

" 15th. Let no natural vivacity of temper, no
occasionally indulged sallies of humour and jocularity
throw a shade over the exercise of solid principle.
Little foolish things give a colour to character, and.
are more easily caught at than grave and good
sentiments.

'' 16th. All eyes are sure to be fixed on a young
wife ; beware of, while you conform to, that sort of
bridal publicity, which is necessarily connected with
every circle of residents and acquaintance.

" 17th. Choose female intimates with circum-
spection ; many civil, hospitable, agreeable persons,
are far from being improving companions ; we may
owe and pay them the debt of civility, kindness and
gratitude, and yet not be obliged to give them too
much of our time and affection. Two or three truly
Christian women form a circle sufficiently large for
profitable friendship.

" 18th. Ill every, however small a circle of ac-
quaintance, you will find more or less of party spirit,
prejudice, and too great freedom of remark on per-
sons and circumstances connected with them : be-
ware of making one of these. Be slow to judge,
rather than swift to speak ; the best Christians often
fail here.

" 19th. You are much given to laughter, my dear
child, and many a hearty laugh 1 have enjoyed with
you, and I would not turn your laughter into sorrow,
but this propensity may prove a snare to yOd.
Watch and be jealous of it, banish what looks like
giggling, l^tness, and folly, and cultivate a chast-
ened cheenulness^and simplicity of manner in all
companies.

S53 MABKAOS ADMOimtOllfl.

^ 20th. Never forget that you are entering an
entire circle of strangers, and that a very few weeks
or months will establish your character amongst
them.

** Once more, I say, think of your father^s house
and reputation. When I look upon myself and all
that belongs to me, I feel ashamed of my own feeble,
faint, attempts to serve God, and adorn his gospel ;
yet the Christian vrorid has attached to them, how-
ever undeservedly, a value, and by the name and
character of their father, will my children be tried
and appreciated.

''21st. Keep indelibly engraven on your heart the
affecting scenes of last January. A dying brother^s
faithful admonitions — his last words, his last looks of
mortal affection. Our household never witnessed
the like, was never so tried. The memorials dwell
on my heart with increasing poignancy. I say less
but I feel more ; there is a solemn, silent, softening
and subduing influence which often overwhelms me.
May you retain a vivid recollection, with a perpetu-
^ ated blessing, of that day when our Wilberforce fled
from earth to heaven.

''22d. Be especially attentive to the opinion which

yourdemeanour may inspire amongst your husband's

relations. No doubt he has praised you before them,

'^ i endeavour to prove in all points that he has done

.^ . you no more than justice ; much family peace and

love depends upon this.

• ^ "23d. There are many excellent hints in the book

entitled " A Whisper to a new married pair." I

recommend them to your perusal ; and there are

many more excellent hints to wives and women in

th^ Bible, from Solomon, Paul, and Peter ; study

them well.

"24th. When you think of your father, bear vnth
his infirmities, pardon his faults, but remember his

MARRIAGE ADMONITIONS* 253

principles and instructions, so far as they have been
agreeable to the will of God.

" 25th. Be not contented with any filing short of
deep, devoted, diligent, decided seriousness. Make
not the too numerous half-hearted and decent, but
dubious Christians, your patterns for imitation. Set
your mark and standard very high, and aim deliber-
ately to regulate your conduct by it.

''26th. If you and your husband happen to differ
in opinion or feeling in any point, remember whom
you have promised to love, honour and obey, and
this will settle all things.

" 27th. Of your husband's warm affection towards
you, I entertain no doubt ; strive to preserve them
by daily elevation of character, not so much by fond-
ness as by prudence and dignity. Study his char-
acter, he will study your's. May you both learn to
raise a fabric of connubial happiness by mutual wis-
dom and love.

"28th. I trust you are taught in the school of
Christ ; rely not, however, on the past privileges of
education, but seek present evidences, such as will
comfort you under *sudden alarms and distresses,
should they occur. Try to get acquainted with
yourself by a review of your whole life, and often
carry to the Lord in prayer and confidence, the
results of examination into your heart and conduct.

" 29th. Observe great simplicity. liMll^rplainness in
dress. A clergyman's wife should be a pattern to
others in these respects; there is a just complaint
made of many females who profess to be religious,
that they are far too showy and gay in their out-
ward apparel ; — remember the apostle's injunction
— 1 Peter iii. 1—6.

" 30th. Never think yourself too old to learn ; the
most valuable period of education is perhaps from
tV^enty to forty years of age. The matured mind
is fittest to become Uie little child,

954 CONYBRSATIOll WITH THE AUTHOR.

" 31st. You are bidding farewell to your father's
house, the Ijpme of your infancy, childhood, and
youth ; yet the remembrance of the principles in
which you have been educated should follow you
thix>ugh life, whei:eyer divine Providence may see
jfit to call you. May these be a guide to you at all
times, a consolation to you in your final removal
from a sinful and changing w<H*ld.

^'Christ has been made known to you fully and
fireely : let Christ be your all in eiU^ both now and
for ever. Receive my parting advice in love, and
be assured, my beloved child, it comes from the
itfectionate heart of

Your dear father,

A riiort time before her marriage, Miss H. R.

paid a visit to . I was gratified in discovering

m a young woman, not yet twenty years of age, so
much thought and good sense on the subjects of
our conversation. In common with ,the rest of her
family, she entertained a deep sense of her father's
afiection, consistency, and uniform anxiety for the
q)iritual welfare of his children.

When I adverted to her responsibility on the
ground of past pfivileges, and to the necessity of a
personal application of the principles in which she
nad been educated, she observed, ^ I know that
religion requires something more of me than respect
for my father," and she then proceeded to state to
me some of the perplexities of her mind on certain
doctrines, which led me to remark that young
people were apt to begin where they should end,
and as an old author has quaintly said, wish '< to
matriculate at the university of election before they
have passed through the grammar-school of repent-

CONVEIUSATION WITH THX AVTBOR. 256

anCe and faith.'* I advised her to lay aude the
consideration of the deep things of Gk)d. These,
said I, are far beyond the range of a young disciple.
The time may arrive when such subjects may be
studied with advantage, for it ia a great mistake tp
suppose that God has revealed any ttung which is
unserviceable to his church, or needless to be
understood ; but infancy, youth, and manhood, are
not to be fed with the same aliment. I have no
wish to conceal from you that my mind is made up
on these subjects, though I am far from being coa-
fident in the certainty of my own conclusions on
points which are debateable and still debated
amongst good and wise men ; but I feel no besita<»
tion in dissuading you from employing your thougbtn
on speculations, which at present will retacd rather
than aid your progress. To ascertaio your coover-
sion, and the remity of your piety, by the plain
practical tests of the Bible, ought to be your chief
and indeed only concern. Admit that God calki^
keeps, and alone can bring you to heaven, and you
know all that is essential to your salvation.

** Yes, but if God does not call **—

**Then call on him, ^Tum thou me, O good
Lord, and so shall I be turned."

«<We made a transition to her approaching
marriage* I alluded to the pleasing prospect <^
being united to a man of principle and piety, aix)
to the satisfaction ber fs^ther had expressed iii (hi
anticipation of that event.

She requested noe to converse with her on the
duties of her new irelation.

You entertain my dear young friend, no doubt,
the usual expectations of tiappiness in married life^
and I do not wish to damp tnem ; but I am coi9-
pelled to acknowledge that I have not witoesse^
much conjugal felidty. People joff on in Uf^
because tliey earaot da otherwise ; utbeyarenol

356 CONVSB8ATION VmB THE AITTHOR*

indifferent to each other, nor annoy each other by
contention and ill humour, they still appear to me
to derive but little satisfaction from their connexion;
little in comparison of what the relation is intended
and calculated to inspire.

'^ What are the causes of the disappointment in
such cases?"

Shall we say that there is want of affinity of
character in the parties — that the connexion has
been formed on some selfish calculation — ^that a
mutual though not designed deception has been
practised — that greater demands are made than
a fallen nature can answer — that people are more
tenacious of their claims than of their duties, and
forget that affection needs cultivation as much or
more, aftery than before marriage ?

All these causes are fatal to happiness, yet where
they may not exist, much uneasiness often arises in
married life, from a disregard to the ordinance of
God in that relation. Reference should be made to
his rule and appointment. It is true he has made
the man a sort of autocrat, {o^hwlf*i) — ^the head of
a house to superintend and direct every important
movement in it, but though entrusted with the chief
power, he is responsible to God for the use he makes
of it. Authority is granted to no one for the
purpose of mere self gratification. The trust is
abused when it is perverted to this end. Man is
constituted the head, for the good of the members ;
and he must rule with tenderness, forbearance,
and affection. Matthew Henry has prettily ex-
pressed the idea, '* God made woman out of man's
side. Not out of his head to rule, nor out of his
feet to be trampled on, but out of his rib which lies
near his heart, to be loved and cherished.'* And when
man forgets that his reign is the dominion of affec-
tion, he provokes God, by an abuse and misuse of
power, to resign his house to disorder and rebellioiu

CONYERSATIOn VTITH THE AUTHOR. 257

The wife has also her place^ She is equal in
nature but not in relation. She mu3t shine by
reflection, and will suffer an eclipse in her dignity,
and bankruptcy in her happiness, whenever she sets
up for herself, and affects equsJity and independ-
ence« Her earthly hopes and satisfactions should
emanate from her husband, and centre in him.
The rule of duty for a Christian wife is, '* in and for
the Lord.'' Her obedience must not irary with the
capricious influences of feeling, but rest on the
firmer basis of conformity to the ordinances of
€rod. Affection may make duty delightful, but it is
not the foundation of it. When a wife has just
reason to disapprove of her husband's copduct, she
may reason anid remonstrate ; occasions may unhap*
pily arise in which conscience squires dissent, aod
even disobedience ; but in general it is a womaQi'9
privilege, as well as duty, to call her husband
^Lord," and to keep within the limits wUch Gk)d
has wisely and graciously appointed*

My young friend thanked me for my instructions^
which she assured me were in unison with her owu
views, and that she meant to enter op her new
relation with these principles.

The interval between her marriage and early
death, might have been more fujly described by one
who is best able to appreciate her conduct. But
motives of delicacy and regard to his feelings, have
restrained me from making an application to bimt
and led me to prefer the insertion of an ei^traet
from her mother's letter. Mrs. R. writes :

''Her time was chiefly spent in the retired
duties of domestic life. She seldom engaged in
any thing of a public nature. She became a most
exemplary and conscientious wife — a fond and
tender mother to her little boy, whom she regarded
with anxiety, and was preparing to train in the priap
ciples and piety (^ her dear rather. Increasiqgjiy

33*

$SS8 ' HER 8ICKNEIS AND DEATS.

beloved by her^ husband, \rfaose comfort and
happiness on his return from hrs daily and laborious
occupations, she assiduously studied to promote —
her short day of life sweetly glided on, and, like
the flower of the desert, she attracted little notice
beyond the immediate circle of the few friends to
whom she attached herself."

In September, 1828, Mrs. was confined

with her second child. An account of the event
and its afflictive results, was communicated at the
time in the letter which follows.

** I saw our poor H in the afternoon after

her accouchement. She then appeared extremely
well, and nursing a sweet infant with a mother^s
joy. On Wednesday she complained of pain, and
passed a very restless night. The next day Mr.

A called in a physician, who seemed uneasy at

her symptoms, and enjoined the utmost quiet, par-
ticularly requesting that no one should speak of her
danger, or say any thing to excite or agitate her
mind. On Friday she grew worse, and inquired if
there was danger, expressing her own conviction
that she should not recover^ Her friends, in com-
pliance with the strict injunctions of the medical
man, discouraged her inquiries, and endeavoured ta
draw her mind to other subjects. But in reply, she
said, " Is this kind, to keep my thoughts from eter-
nity ? I cannot realize death, and you will not help
me. Can I think too much of death ?" She then
inquired for me, and desired that I might be sent
for. Aware of the great change in her countenance
as I entered the room, she kept her eyes shut,
remarking to the nurse, ^ I will keep my eyes shut,
I shall be so agitated at seeing my dear sister^s dis-
tress^ she will see me so changed." She wa»
indeed changed ; her countenance, which only a

HBR SICKNESS AND DEATH.

259

week before had the bright hue of health, was now

pale and wan. Oh ! my dear Mrs. F ^ how

awful is the execution of the sentence, ^ The soul
that sinneth it shall die.'' Even where Christ has
taken away the sting, the expiring agony of death
is terrible. Is it not a strange infatuation that our
latter moments should ever be absent from our
thoughts — ^that we can trifle where we ought to
tremble, and be comparatively indifferent to the
only event which is of real importance to us ?

" I was earnestly requested, before I went into
the sick room, to show no alarm at her danger, and
avoid conversing upon death. But I gazed at her
marble countenance for a few moments, and all
hope of her life fled. The particular appearance
of death cannot be mistaken, and I resolved to
speak plainly to her of her situation. But H
began of her own accord. She put her hand into

mine as I sat down beside her. " F , love, we

meet as dying sisters this time.*' Dear H ^ I

replied, tell me how you feel. " F , I feel that

in a few hours, I must stand before the judgment-
seat of Christ, and there render an account of all
the deeds done in the body, and my sins press

heavy upon me. F , talk to me about death. I

shall not recover. I have felt assured of this from
the first, but no one will talk to me, even my dear
husband shrinks from it, but I mt^t speak of death
now. I hope you will converse with me." I
assured her of my intention and willingness to do
so, and I began to inquire into the state of her
mind. She lamented her sad ^neglect of religion
in days past, that she had greatly railed to improve
opportunities, and had grievously put off prepara-
tion for a dying hour. " Now, dear F , I feel

the value of time — ^now I see why I was sent into
this world; my whole life ought to have been a
preparation for this hour. Oh I dear F > how
time has been trifled away."

960 HBR nCKNESS AHD DXAjm*

** She seemed exceedingly distressed at these
recollections, and particularly referred to the instruc-
tions and example of her dear father — and expressed
in the strongest terms her gratitude t^ him for
teaching^her to honour religion from her infancy*

** Now F 9 1 feel his worth. Oh, what a father

we had — ^how his prayers, and entreaties, and h<Ay
example rise before me. I never, never can express
my love for my father. On a death-bed I have learnt
bis value" — ^then adding "But on a death-bed I have
learnt my responsibilities for such a parent I shall
lOon have to answer for many things, but I hiave
most to answer for in having had such a parent. I
have enjoyed unparalleled mercies through child-
hood and youth. Oh I I have much — ^very much
to answer for. If / am saved^ it mil indeed be a

miracle of miracles — ^but, F ^ I have a hope, and

I cannot give up hope — Christ is my hope; his
Uood can cleanse me from my sins, and for his
sake even / may find pardon."

" She then named several of her friends and
relations who she thought would be shocked at the
intelligence of her early and unexpected death.
She sent kind messages to them. The poor people
of Turvey, and recollections of the home of her
youth seemed much in her thoughts, and deeply
affected her. " F ■ , give my affectionate love to
them all. Turvey is very dear to me."

" The state of one of her intimate friends dis-
tressed her. " How I regret (alluding to this lady) that
our conversation and intercourse has been so little

Erofitable to either of us. I wish I could see -
efore I die. I have much I want to say to her. I
want to press religion on her mind. O that I could
see her a real Christian before I die." She spoke
much of her dear aunt, who had kindly nursed her
all the week with the patient tenderness and aflfec-
tion of a mother. *' I hope my beloved aunt knows

HXR SICKNESS AND DEATH. 261

Christ and his doctrines. I think I shall meet her in
heaven." She entreated me to explain the nature
of religion to the nurse, '' I am too weak to talk to

her now, but I hope you will, .dear F . I am

afraid she has not a right knowledge of religion.
She has been telling me, there can be no doubt of
roy going to heaven, because I am so good and
amiable. Oh I this is false, this is error, this is no
foundation to build on for eternity. Explain to her
the nature of sin and salvation by Christ. I cannot
bear the thought of leaving that kind and faithful
creature in ignorance. I have been talking to
— ," alluding to one of the servants, " and have
tried to show her the importance of preparing for an
early death. I wish I had strength to speak to

nurse also." H then returned to the subject of

her own departure, " Oh ! I am frightened when I
think of dying. I have not accustomed myself to
think of dying as I ought to have done." I suggests
ed to her mind what appeared to me best suited to
her case— rthat Christ was our lamp in that dreary
valley — our strong consolation in the bitter pains of
death. She replied, " I can trust Christ with my
soul. I can hope he will pardon and save it ; but I
feel alarmed about the bodily pains of death — they
are fearful in prospect ; but I will not dwell on the
future, it disturbs me. I will trust God." I said,
•*When thou hadst overcome the sharpness of
death," interrupting me she exclaimed with great
emotion, ** thou didst open the kingdom of heaven
to all believers."

" She now referred to Wilberforce, and said,
" Poor Willy went through this awful time before
me, but all was safe and nappy with him. I trust it
will be so with me. My dear, dear father, he also
has gone through death. None of us know what
sorrow he endured in that awful hour. He was
indeed a loss to us all, but I am now glad he is gone
before me.'^

S62 HBR SICKNESS AND DEATH.

*^ The prospect of leaving her infants agitated her
iDind throughout the day. '* To be left without a
mother I oh this is hard ! O Gk)d9 take care of nay
poor babes." Her chief conversation about the
children was with her husband, and I believe shQ
gave him many directions about their education.

" On Saturday, my mother arrived. H waa

too ill to converse with her, but she assured her
that her own mind was in peace.

" My sister appeared to be dying the whole of
Saturday night, but very gradually. She begged
we would all leave the room, as the evening came
on, and that she might be left alone with her hus-
band, who sat the whole of the night beside her, to
converse as her strength would permit.

*^ At six o'clock on Sunday morning, she desired
that we might be called into the room. We found

Mr. supporting her in his arms ; death was on

ber countenance, she breathed with difficulty and
was quite cold. She said, ''I wish to see Mn
— — ," (the medical man who attended her in her
confinement.) When he came, she inquired of him
how long she might live ; he said, perhaps three
hours. She requested her husband to send for Mr«

W . On his arrival she exerted her last strength

to converse with him, but their conversation was
carried on in so low a tone that I could not catch
the whole. I heard my sister question Mr. W— -
most earnestly about a true and false faith, and
whether he thought her faith sincere and genuine.
He spoke very decidedly of the safety of her state,
and she appeared to receive comfort from his opi-
nion. At her request he administered the Lord's
Supper. We knelt round her bed in silence and
deep anguish. She clasped her hands, and seemed
to be in earnest prayer the whole time. At the
conclusion she tnanked Mr. W - > and said,
^ You have refreshed me in body and mind* This

HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 263

is the hour of extremity, but Christ is all." She
then became much oppressed, and struggled hard
for breath, and in a little time asked for her children*
When the eldest was brought, she clasped him for a
moment to her breast, and said, **This boy has
been my idol." She next begged the infant niight
be brought to h^r. " I want to see if I can bring
my will to God's will." The babe was placed in
her arms, she looked at it, was much agitated, and
exclaimed, ''OKI take it away, take it away, I
cannot bear this 1 O Gknl 1 take care of my dar-
ling babe ! ** She followed it with her eyes as the
nurse carried it away, and seemed to be in prayer
for it. She then took leave of each of us separately.
To her mother she said, '' I shall soon be with my
dear papa." The interview with her husband was
very affecting. She was most ardently attached to

Mr. • She desired him to kneel down and

commit her soul to God in the agony of departure.
Presently she whispered, "I cannot hear now.**
Then — ^''My sight is failing — Oh! this is death.*'
She begged we would keep perfect silence, and lay
her straight down on the bed. We stood motion-
less and gazing on her. She jxiade several attempts
to speak, but in vain, but I heard her breathe out
very faintly, " Now it begins to look lovely ! " A
moment after, fixing her eyes upward, and smiling
with a placid countenance, she drew a last deep
breath, and all was hushed in silence.

" Are we not allowed, my dear Mrs. V ^ to

believe, that my sister has joined angels and arch-
angels, and all the company of heaven. Her short
and painful illness afforded less scope for the exer-
cises anH evidences of a renewed heart than we
witnessed in the last hours of our beloved Wilber-
force. Yet here we have not been left to sorrow
as without hope. " Beloved for the father's sake."
Beemed inscnbed in characters of mercy on her

264 HER SICKNESS AND DEATH.

death-bed. The effect of her education and early
acquaintance with the principles of religion could
not be mistaken. Her father's prayers and un-
wearied and affectionate solicitude for his child's
spiritual welfare — ^the *' line upon line and precept
upon precept," which he pressed on her mind —
together with poor Willy's earnest addresses and
entreaties in his dying hour, seemed to recur to her
with new force, and poured a flood of light, convic-
tion, and consolation on her soul, leading her in
penitence and faith to rest all her hopes on that one
oblation, propitiation, and satisfaction, which was
once made for sin by the Lamb of God, in whose

Erecious blood all transgression, known and un-
nown, is washed away for ever.

Believe me, my dear Mrs. F ,

I am your most affectionate, &c.''

I would not be thought to cast a shade on the
hopes so affectionately expressed in the above
letter, the subject of which is, I trust, a happy spirit
in heaven, let I feel it necessary, as a Christian
minister, to subjoin a few salutary cautions, espe-
cially to young people, against too exclusive a reli-
ance on what may take place in our latter moments.
The Scripture makes an appeal to living hours and
holy fruits, and these are the test on which we can
more safely depend. The gold passes through the.
fire, and the result of the purifying process alone
determines its character. It is the language of
inspiration, " As a man sows, so shall he reap."

Let me remind those young persons whose
opinions are correct, but who are conscious that
their hearts are yet far from God, not to run the
hazard, the tremendous hazard of their souls, by
delay, nor expect peace and safety at last, unless
they are now seekm^ to lay up the support of a
ffiith which worketh oy love and obedience. ^' It

HER 8ICKNB8S AND DEATH. 265

is the tenor of the life, not that of the few morbid
and suffering scenes which precede dissolution,
that fixes that character. We are not authorized
by Scripture to place any dependance on the last
periods of sinking nature, through which the
Christian may be called to pass to his eternal
reward."*

* Life of the Rev. T. Scott, p. 515.

2G6 COKCLVDINO SBlf ABKS.

CHAPTER X.

If I have done well and as is fittioff the story, it is that which I
desired ; but if slenderly and meanly, it is that which I ooiild
attain unto. — ^8 Maccabees.

In reviewing what has now been submitted to the
public, there seems little need of further comment,
since it is probable that the intelligent reader has
anticipated every suggestion which I might be
disposed to offer.

Of Mr. Richmond's plans for his children I must
leave the Christian parent to form his own opinion ;
observing, that whether he adopts them in whole or
in part, he should never forget that instruction,
however large or correct, is not education — that
true piety consists not in a form, in its most scrupu-
lous use, nor in a speculation claiming the bare
assent and approval of the mind, nor in an inifluence
occasionally to be felt. It is a principle pervading
every faculty of a man's moral nature. Religion is
estimated far below its real character, when it is
regarded as an affair of dutiful necessity, or as a
medicine taken for ulterior relief, rather than as a
well-spring of life and health, to which the soul
turns for satisfaction and delight, and without which
it can neither be peaceful nor happy. The truths
of the Bible may be taught in their utmost purity,
and yet, unless their spirit be transfused into the
affections of the heart and the habits of the life,
they will fall short of the effect and design of real
Christianity. Mere knowledge of religion, without

oQHcujMaro wnfiWKw, 967

a correspoDding feefing and practieey oftoi issoeg
in a fatal apathy, and femis a chaFacter which
becomes at last impemoos to every sacred im-
pressioQ. It has been wdl said fay a prokmnd
moralist, ** To handle holy things without feeliii^
is to be cauterized in the end." It has beoi dearfy
shown on what principle Mr. Richmond conducted
his plan of education ; — that his grand aim was to
touch the heart, and to make duty and del^it
synonymous. Yet some caution is necessary m the
exclusive application of strictly religioas principles.
There are a variety of motives which act most
salutarily on present advantage, and which impose
powerfud restraints on the impulses of a corrupt
nature ; and if we strip a youth of all regard for his
interest or reputation, we expose him, in the absence
of higher motives, to be driven along by the current
of his own passions, till he makes shipwreck of all
that is valuable for this worid and the next To
this neglect of inferior motives I am dinxMed to
ascribe the misconduct of many children oi religious
parents ; and it therefore becomes an inquiry of no
small importance, (though of difficult and delicate
character,) whether the entbe disuse of subordinate
influence is wise, or even safe in a course of
education. May we not be guided in this inquiry
by the sanction of the Supreme Ruler himself,*' who,
while he taught the more excellent way, formed
laws for human conduct, and held out motives for
obedience, not always the best in themselves, but the
best in reference to the circumstances and capacities
of his creatures ? Nor am I inclined to reject any
influence for present advantage, where there is
nothing opposed to the spirit or command of religion.
Another circumstance which is often undervdued
in education, is the establishment of good habits,

* EuUM zz. S5.

268 ' covcLimiNo beharks.

and that too, prior to the full admission of good
principles. Habits, it is true, are formed by a
series of actions, and actions must spring from
principles of some kind ; but the principle at first
may be little more than custom or association ; yet
are the habits valuable, as preparing a future power-
ful co-operation with right principle ; for nothing
proves a greater obstacle to truth in opinion, than
error in conduct. There is a deep and intimate
knowledge of the influence of habit m that declara-
tion of our blessed Lord, " If any man will do the
will of my heavenly Father, he shall know of the
doctrine whether it be of God." (John vii. 17.)

Corrupt practice is a fruit of darkness, and
increaseth darkness ; and though correct habits are
not the cause of divine light, they prepare the soil
for the heavenly seed, and clear away the weeds
and thorns which would check its vegetation, and
retard its growth. The language which reflects on
human agency as useless, and even presumptuous,
until a divine power has commenced its mighty
operation, is not in accordance with reason or
Scripture, and a propensity to form systems, and
distort the doctrines of religion, is often connected
with indolence and selfishness, which shrink from
th^ labour of instruction.

Mr. R.'s great care to regulate the private
intercourse of his children, is another feature in his
system of education which deserves particular
attention. It is evident from one remark in his own
memoranda, that he intended to have urged this
topic in the projected memoir of his son, " The
great value of scientific and rational amusement to
supply materials for good and useful conversation."

The unprofitable manner in which hours of social
intercourse are too often spent, has been lamented
by manv. It may not be desirable, nor is it always
profitable, to introduce strictly religious subjects on

CONCLUDING REM ABES. 269

every occasion. Sacred things should be handled
with reverence and feeling, or we shall be in danger
of making an unholy use of that which is holy. But
it is very possible to converse on ordinary things in -
the spirit of religion ; we may aim to improve our*
selves or others, and not merely pass away the time
in tales of wonder. We cannot be walking with
(Jod in a heavenly, tender frame of mind, or with
any just sense of our position, as standing on the
brink of eternity, while we propose to ourselves
no higher object than amusement — no accession
of ideas — ^no elevation of devout affections. Can
our communications ^' administer grace to. the
hearer" when the amounty if written down, would
shame a wise man^ and distress the mind of a sin-
cere Christian ?

There is also with the young and old a prevalent
and bad habit, of talking of persons, rather than
of things. This is seldom innocent, and often
pregnant with many evils. Such conversation in-
sensibly slides into detraction ; and by dwelling on
offences, we expose our own souls to contagion, and
are betrayed into feelingsof pride, envy,and jealousy;
and even when we speak in terms of commend-
ation, "we are sure to come in with a hut at
the last, and drive a nail into our neighbor's
reputation.^ — Bacon.

The disuse of ^ood conversation proceeds from
poverty of ideas, no less than from want of heart-
religion. Persons select light and trivial subjects,
because they have no materials for a higher inter-
change of sentiment. If more pains were taken
to cultivate the mind, there would be less difficulty
in speaking to edification, and less need of having
recourse to amusements, which differ little in their
effect and influence from others, which, l^ common
consent, have been denounced as inconsistent with
vital religion.

24*

370 C0NCLI7DINO BEMARK8.

If the " Domestic Portraiture " should fall into the
hands of any one who has been accustomed to as-
sociate the idea of folly or delusion with a serious
profession of religion, he may observe in what is
there detailed, that a sincere Christian may be a man
of taste and intelligepce, nfld that it is not necessary
to be illiterate or enthusiastic to believe the Bible,
and regulate a family in accordance with its princi-
ples ; — ^that elegant accomplishments and a becom-
ing attention to the usages of society, as far as they
are innocent or useful, may be found in alliance
with the warmest devotion, and a most conscien-
tious regard to the laws of God.

*In taking farewell of this little work which I have
now brought to a conclusion, one thought enters my
mind, and produces deep emotion. I have increased
the responsibilities of Mr. Richmond's family, by
holding them up to public observation. Wherever
the present volume may obtain circulation, "their
father's honour, and — a still more important con-
sideration — ^their father's principles, will be intimate-
ly connected, with their conduct and the value of
them be appreciated by their effects. His eye is
no longer upon them, nor his bright example before
them, neither has every member of his family enjoy-
ed the full benefit of his affectionate and careful
superintendence. But I am persuaded that the
traces he has left are too deeply engraven ever to
be erased from their remembrance, and that a
father^s blessing will follow them to the latest hour
of their earthly pilgrimage. It is my heart's desire
and prayer to God, that they may retain a lively
recollection of his instructions, and continue to walk
worthy of their vocation, irreprovable and without
rebuke, until they rejoin their departed relatives,
and with them « praise God for such a father."

APPENDIX.
FRAGMENTS RELATING TO LYDIA G — ,

OP NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE.

The present volume, as it has been already stated,
bears the title, and is formed upon the plan, which
had been adopted by Mr. Richmond himself, for a
work which he had projected, and had, in fact,
commenced. But there was also found among his
papers, the outline and materials of another narra-
tive, intended as a companion to his " Young
Cottager," and " Dairyman's Daughter," and which
would probably, if it had been filled up by him,
have been found little inferior, either in interest or
in usefulness, to those highly honoured memorials
of the triumphs of divine grace.

But it must not be concealed, that the more
interesting parts of this story are, as far as this
world is concerned, for ever lost. The great charm
of Mr. Richmond's former sketches, lay in that
part of the story which was personal, and which
was peculiarly his own. His conversations, and
his meditations, formed always the most attractive
and heart-ajSecting portions of the tale, and those,
in the present case, are unrecorded. That part
of the sketch which consisted of the contributions
of others, remains, being found carefully pre-
served among his papers, and bearing the titl^
already afilixed to it, which he had adopted for the
narrative itself, which it was his intention shortly to
write. That purpose, like the plan of the '-Do-
mestic Portraiture," was arrested by the approach

372 APPENDIX.

of his last illness ; and all that can now be done, is,
to *^ gather up the fragments that remain, that
•• nothing be lost."

The title of the projected tract, as left in his own
hand, is as follows : —

" MEMORIALS OF LYDIA G ,

Of Newcastle-on-Tyne ; who died Feb. 14, 1825,

aged 17 years ; a spiritual child of ' Little Jane,

the Young Cottager.' "
The few circumstances which are recorded, of
one whose life was passed without incident and in
obscurity, will naturally range themselves in order
of time as follows : —

The usual trifling and immaterial circumstances
of her being named, did not pass without Christian
feelings being called into exercise^ Her mother
said, *'I wish to call the child Lydia." The father
answered, " Call her what thou pleasest, my dear.'*
But the eldest sister asked, " Why would you call
her Lydia, mother, we have no relation of that
name ? " The mother answered, " I will name her
after Lydia, • the seller of purple,' my dear ; — and
may the Lord bless her, and " open her heart,'* as
He did that of Lydia in the days of the apostles."

It is easy to trace in this apparently minute circum-
stance, the character of the parent's mind. Little
Lydia was olSered to the Lonl, in the sacrament of
Baptism, in faith. The promise, '* I will pour my
Spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thy off-
spring," had been often pleaded in her behalf before
a throne of grace : and here, in the ordinary course
of God*s dealings with mankind we may trace the
first Sowings forth of that purpose of mercy which
became afterwards so clearly manifest in the happy
end of this child.

Lydia manifested from her infancy, what is
called ^a good disposition." She was never known

APPENDIX. 273

to utter a falsehood, or even to stoop to an equivo*
cation. Simplicity and uprightness marked every
stage of her short existence. Towards her latter
days, a striking instance of this occurred. Her
elder sister, under whose care she then was placed,
was naturally very anxious as to her health ; she
being then in a very precarious, and almost danger-
ous state. Lydia, who was then about seventeen
years of age, was usually very obedient to her
sister, but she felt much pain at being prohibited, in
bad weather, from attending the public ministry of
the word. On one occasion, when thus left at
home, she stole out to the evening service. Her
disobedience was undetected, and would have re-
mained unknown. But such was the tenderness
of her conscience, that she could neither receive
any enjoyment from joining in the worship or hear-
ing the word, — ^nor could she rest, till she had con-
fessed her fault, and obtained forgiveness ; although
no detection or even suspicion would have followed,
had she maintained her usual silence.

Her mother died in the faith of Christ when
Lydia was only seven years of age. The child's
health had long appeared to be delicate and unsatis-
factory ; and shortly after her mother's death, her
case was submitted to a physician and a surgeon of
eminence. They agreed that her disease was
aneurism of the heart, for which there was no cure;
but which bleeding might relieve or retard. This
mode of alleviation was resorted to, but her strength
was thereby reduced to the lowest point consistent
vnth the continuance of life.

It was about this time that ^^The Young Cot--
tager^^ wad placed in her hands. She made no
remark upon it; nor was any one aware that its
perusal had produced any unusual eifect upon her
mind. But her father, writing after her death, says,
*' Although she sat under an evangelical roiniatryi

374 APPENDIX.

yet, until she read that inestimable little book, I
believe she never felt the depravity of her own
heart, nor sought its renewal by the Holy Spirit."

In the course, however, of a few months after,
Mr. Richmond himself, in one of his journeys for
the Jews' Society, visited Newcastle. Lydia's
health, at this time, was in the most delicate and
precarious state. Her disease rendered quietness
and seclusion almost necessary to the hourly con-
tinuance of her life.

Her sisters were led to hear Mr. Richmond
preach, and they mentioned his name in her hearing.
Her attention was instantly aroused, and she eagerly
exclaimed, *' Oh ! I must go and hear him I He
taught little Jane the way to heaven, and he will
teach me." Her sister told her that she could not
permit her to think of it that evening, (Sunday,) ill
as she was ; but that Mr. Richmond was to preach
again on the Thursday, when she might perhaps be
tetter. " But," she added, ^^ how will you be able
to get there — ^you cannot walk? " " O dear!'* she
answered, " but I will try, and we will go by the
bye ways, and you will carry me when I cannot
get on." In the interval between Sunday and
Thursday, her sister remarks, she was more careful
of her health, and anxious to gain strength, than
young people usually are when expecting to join a
pleasure party. The sisters set out, and an idea
may be inferred of the state of Lydia'9 health, from
the fact, that they congratulated themselves on
being so happy as to reach the church after a pain-
ful struggle of an hour and a-half. " Now," says
Lydia, " I must be where I can see Mr. Richmond."
In this, too, they succeeded, and the sister expected'
that when the service was concluded, she would
contentedly return home ; but to her great surprise,
the poor girl's agitation increased, and she ex*
claimed, ^' I must speak to him I "

APPENDIX. 275

Her sister's astonishment at this desire was
naturally very great. Lydia, who was then under
ten years of age, was naturally timid and bashful.
She was now in a weak and feeble state of body,
inducing great nervousness ; and it may be judged
from these circumstances, what must have been
the ardent feelings of her soul, which could break
through all these obstructions, and force her to seek
a conversation with one so far removed from her,
in age, circumstances, and education, as Mr. Rich*
mond. *^ My dear Lydia,'' said the sister, ** I cannot
go to speak to him ; and what would you say, if you
could get to see him." '* Oh ! I want so to talk to
him ; and you must go and speak to him, and tell
him so ; I am sure he would not be displeased ; I
know he would not I*'

Her earnest beseeching quite distressed her
sister; who not daring to go into the vestry to

Mr. R , followed him, with Lydia, along the

street, watching for an opportunity of addressing
him. When his pace quickened, Lydia had to be
carried, lest he should get out of sight. He stopped
to speak with some one, and on his parting from
the person, Lydia begged her sister to go and
speak to him. " My dear,** she replied, " what can ,.

I say to him, you must speak to him yourself."
** Oh ! tell him," said Lydia, ** I want to talk to him
about what he said to little Jane !" Mr. R. reached
his friend's door and entered the house. Her grief
increased, and she exclaimed, *' Oh ! I shall never
see him again, — oh ! what shall I do ! " She stood
opposite the house, weeping, and lamenting the loss
of the opportunity, and was vnth difficulty per-
suaded to leave the spot. Her sister, on returning
home, acquainted her father with her earnest desire,
and her grief. He hesitated what to do, but at last,
through the intervention of a kind friend, Mr. W — ^

276 APPENDIX.

Mr. Richmond was made acquainted with the
circumstance, and called upon the little girl.

Here we have to regret a deficiency in the
history^ which no pen but that of Mr. Richmond
himself could have supplied. The conversation
must have been deeply interesting ; but the parties
engaged in it have now both left this lower world,
and we may suppose, have enjoyed many happy
and holy hours of converse in the abodes of bliss.
A letter, however, remains to us which was ad-
dressed to Lydia, as itsovni language shows, on the
following day. It is as follows :

DurhoMy Nov. I, 1817.
''My very dear child,

^ As Gk>d in his tender mercy permitted me to
witness for a little while, yesterday morning, how
much your heart has been interested in the story
of my ever dear child in the faith, Little Jane, the
Young Cottager, I wish to tell you once more how
sincerely I desire that it may please our gracious
Saviour to make you like unto her. If my little
book has in any way been the means of stirring up
in your young mind a real desire to be found in the
way everlasting, surely I may be permitted to call
you, in that respect, one of mv little ones, and to
feel for you something of a father's love and affec-
tion. Had I known your wish to have seen me
sooner, I would have gladly come, and talked to
you more about little Jane, and about the things
that belong to your everlastirig peace ; — as it is, I
feel my heart strongly inclined to give you these
few lines, as a proof of my good- will and true
regard for your souPs welfare.

" Our acquaintance, my dear little girl, has been
short, but perhaps both you and 1 feel, as if we

APPENDED 277*

vrere indeed friends in the Lord already. May my
prayers for your salvation and support in trials, and
your patience in suffering, be answered for the sake
of Him who died upon the cross to save sinners.
What a Saviour is He I Oh ! my child, seek him,
love him, bless his holy name ! Think of Him when
you are in bodily pain, and remember how much
greater were his pains. Think of him when you
want instruction, and may he be your wisdom.
Think of him when you reflect on your sins, and
may he prove your righteousness. Are you afraid
to come to Him ? What 1 afraid of Him, who said,
** SujSer the little children to come unto me.'* No,
my dear girl, fear not, he is willing that y«u should
come, for he is the way, the truth, and the life.
He is the way to heaven — there is none other ; Oh !
may you walk in that way, and find rest to your
soul therein. Little Jane and I used to talk about
heaven and hell, and Christ, and sin, and mercy,
and pardoning love, till our hearts burned withm
us ; — ^you have read a little of our conversations, in
the Annals of the Poor ; but that is only a small
part of what we said to one another. I often think
of those days with great thankfulness, and it makes
me very glad to see that she, though dead, yet
speaketh to the living by her simple story. Behold,
how good God is I she died before you were born,
yet you are become acquainted with her, and can
see how the Lord blessed her in life and in death.
Her faith, and love, and humility, are b pattern for
you, and through God's loving kindness, I hope you
will be like her in these things.

" You proj^ably may be too youngfDr too unwell
to write U) me, and tell me something about your
thoughts and feelings, and what first made you feel
a desire to be saved, and what you have felt when
you read the story of the Young Cottager. I could
wish to know more of your heart, imd what you

378 APPENDIX.

think about 8tB» aod pardon, and Jesus Christ. BuC
this perhaps cannot be, unless sonoe one should
write for you ; but then every word and thought
must be your own. The Lord save you, my childy
and give you the gospel blessing, and may you trust
in Christ with all your heart. Remember Little
Jane, and in your prayers remember likewise.
Your affectionate friend in the Lord^

Leoh Richmond.'''

" Give my Christian regards to your sisters, pray
with them, and may you all meet in heaven at the
last, as sinners freely saved by the blood of Jesus
Christ.* — Farewell, my dear child."

The conversation and correspondence of Mn
Richmond was made the effectual means of convey-
k)g true peace to her soul. She was shortly after
enabled to speak of her heart, as being ^ filled with
the love of God f and to contemplate her probable
dissolution with joy and hope. The following
letters were addressed by Mr. R. to Lydia and her
sister in the course of the ensuing year. It will
appear from these letters, that both the sisters were
indebted, under God, to Mr. R. for their first
impressions of religion, and for their subsequent
confirmation in the ways of holiness and peace.

*' And now once more, ray dear little Lydia, (for
such I apprehend is your name,) let me again pressF
you to my bosom and talk of Jesus. What a sweet
Dame to the believer^s ear I It contains all that a «
poor weak young sinner, like you, can want. ^* Hi»
name shall be called Jesus, for he shall save his
people from ifeir sins." Comforting thought ! may
it comfort you, my child, and render pain, sickness,
trial, welconie. Lay your heart and all its troubles
upon that blessed rock ; cast your burden upon him,
and he will (indeed he will () sustain you. Disease
«iay weaken and destroy your suffering body, but

379

it cannot injure your 80uL Love Him, who loves
you ; never be afraid to ask him for patience and
resignation, and he will show his tender mercy to
you. Pray, as well as you can, and always remem-
ber that he* is praying to His Father for you ; it is
this which encourages us to go to him. Your life
may probably be a short one, but then the sooner
shall you be with Christ. Think of Little Jane, and
how (rod supported her ; and do not doubt but he
will freely grant you the same help. His ear is not
heavy, that he cannot hear, nor his arm shortened,
that he cannot save. Let me hear from you, if you
can so far oblige me, and trust in me as a true
friend. Farewell, dear little child, and pray for me,
as I do and will for you.

^Faithfully and affectionately yours in Christ
Jesus.

Legh Richmond.''

'^ Jan« 25 — ^I received yours last night

Newcastle^ Tuesday^ 12 at night.

*^Mv DEAR CHILDREN,

*^ I cannot do more than write two or three liocfl
now. But I wisff t^ give you my blessing before I
leave the town, and to ask you to write to me. A
letter will find me'during the next ten days at the
Rev. Dr. Buchanan's, Canongate, Edinburgh. I
wished to have spoken to you again after the service
of the chapel, but could not see you, Grace, peace,
mercy, and love, be with you, from Grod our Father,
and our Lord Jesus Christ. So prays^

Your truly affectionate friend,

LeQU RlCHMOlfD.^

^ I hope the Lord was with us to-night at public
worship. I felt it was good to be there.''

■it*

1^^

• *•• ■ ■•

' i »

' ^380 APPENDIX.

- V

Glasgow^ June 25, 1818*

"My very dear young Friend,

'^ Nothing can be more fallacious than the mere
testimony of language, most especially in so infantine
a case, to ascertain the genuineness of conversion
jto God. I am frequently grieved in observing the
undue importance which many* good but mistaken
people attach to this evidence. lam sorry that any
such source of uneasiness has arisen in regard to my
dear child Lydia. But it may eventually be well ;
it may teach you to look more for solid and opera-
tive testimonies of true faith than mere readiness of
conversation. I fully concur with you, that the
marks of a divine change are far more satisfactorily
proved by such observations as you are able to
make, than can possibly arise from the mere expres«
sions of the lips. God in his great mercy carry on
in her dear soul a work so evidently begun, and
complete it to his own glory in Christ Jesus. 1 have
met with many instances of the conversion of souls
in Scotland, owing to the blessing of God on my
feeble performances. Elizabeth, William, and Jane,
! have produced several fruits to God here. To him
be all the glory. I am constrained to conclude from
the hurry of travelling. Perhapf 1 may see you
next month ; it is uncertain. Bui nothing is more
certain than that prayers for you, your sisters, and
family, are ardently offered up to heaven by
Your true friend in Christ,

Leoh Richmond.

" To Miss E G—- ."

QueevUs Head Hotels Pilgrim Street^
Tuesday Mornings 9 o'clock.

"My respected youno Friend,

" I am just arrived here from Morpeth, and as
my time will ^soon be much hurried and broken iun

• , * * •-

. * •■■ -

ikPFElVDIX. 3&L />"■ * '

«poii, I write to ask you in the first place whether
it would be quite convenient to you to come to me
here, while I am breakfasting, to save time, .that I
may have the pleasure of some Christian conversa-
tion with you on the subject of your last letter to
me. I shall also visit my little girl while I am at
Newcastle, but I thought the present opportunity
might be previously desirable. Believe me,

Yours faithfully,

Leoh RicHMoln>.
Miss E G •»'

Turvey, Jan. 24, 1818.

^^My respected toung Friend,

*' You have taken no liberty beyond that which
every principle of rel'^ous confidence and esteem
must fully justify. I have been long hoping to
receive a few lines written by or in the name of
your dear little sister ; and now through the good-
ness of God, another of the family claims me a9 a
spiritual friend, and eVen father. May grace, peace,
and mercy rest on each and all of you. I will say
something first as it conqerns yourself. At your
period of life the grace of God is indeed most valu-
able. Youth is a season of peculiar temptation, and
needs the strong* ibrtifications of divine principle in
the soul to protect it from failing a prey to a thou-
sand snares and devices from without, and from as
many foul corruptions striving for mastery from
within. " May you be preserved, through faith, by
the power of God, unto salvation." Be much in
prayer, and like a wrestling Jacob, you shall prevaiL
By faith in that Saviour who is the wisdom, right-
eousness, sanctification, and redemption of his
people you shall triumph over sin, death, and hell.
^ Faithful is he that hath promised, who also will do
it" Oh 1 ^* cast your care on him, for he rareth for

25*

5282 APPENDIX.

you." If the Lord was pleased to make my visit to
Newcastle in any degree a comfort or source of
instruction to your soul, I ought to thank him for so
ffreat a mercy to us both. What am I but your
fellow sinner? and if Gk>d make use of one poor
sinner to minister help to another poor sinner, to
whom, but to himself, great, wise, and merciful, can
the praise be due ? I shall ever remember my visit
to Newcastle with much pleasure, and in particular
I shall never forget the short interview which I was
permitted to enjoy in your house. Your little sister^
my little Jane, and the dear Redeenjer of them both,
seemed on that morning to be all brought to my
affections with singular emotions, and now I feel that
there was another link in the chain of Christian
affection which mercy bound around my heart. I
thank you for enabling me to say so. I heard of
your sister some time since from my dear and

respected friend, Mr. W , and I shall be truly

glad if she is still able and willing to write to me
hdk*self. Pray do not let her imagine that she need
be afraid of writing to me. I love my little lamb
too dearly in the Lord not to prize whatever she
can and will say to me. It would give me mudh
satisfaction if I were permitted to receive some
regular account of the dealings of God both with
her, and with you, from the first beginning of serious
affections in both your souls. Perhaps you will
favour me with them at your leisure. This will
confirm our Christian friendship, and whensoever it
shall please the Lord to take the dear child to him-
self, will be a memorial which I shall greatly prize.
You may probably be spared to serve God in your
generation, when she shall have joined Cherubim
and Seraphim amongst choirs of"^ angels and ran*
somed spirits, in heaven. Be it so — and may you
so taste that the Lord has been gracious to you, that
your temper, example, conversation, and whole life

• ♦s

APPENDIX. 283

may testify that yott love him for all his goodness to
your soul. If, my young friend, you have really
felt the burden of sin, and have seen t^ie awful con-
sequences of remaining in a graceless state, what
views will you have of the Savjour^s character and
office ! what exalted ideas of his love to sinners. In
Him a perfect righteousness is wrought out for and
applied to the believer; his riches .will supply your
poverty ; his wisdom, your ignorance ; his strength;
your weakness. Live upon his fulness by faith, and
see in him a* provision abundantly made for every
difficulty and every danger. Commit yourself, soul,
body, and spirit to him. He is mighty to save, and
will save to the uttermost.

^ ." And now I return to you, my friend and corres-
pondent: you will pardqa my digression to your
tittle sister; God bless her.> I commend; you- to
the Lord and his grace. Go forward in that path
that leads to glory. Fear not the lions in the way ;
stronger is he that is with us, than they that
are against us. Present my Christian regards to
your father and sisters; remember how much I
need your prayers, and believe me, &c. &;c.^

Tui-vey, Aug. 6, 1818.

" My dear little *child,

'^ I thank Gk)d for kindly permitting me to^visit
you and your family, when I lately travelled in the •
North. I love you for Jesus Christ's sake, and wish
to do you good. But this must entirely depend on
God's blessing. It is not my word but His that
must change your heart. My visits are only the
visits of a poor fellow creature, who needs the grace
of the Redeemer as much as yourself; but when
Christ visits you, then there is true light and peace.
Then you may cry out with young David, " Lord,

284 APPBNDEC.

what IS man that thou art mindful of him, and the
son of man, that thou visitest him ? ^ My chiid,
pray to him — ^read his word daily, and never be con-
tented without seeking to understand every word
and every sentence. Read it for faith, that you
may trust your soul and body entirely upon him.
Read it for the government of your temper, that
you may^rfiQW. forth the inward light which God
gives you by ^tience, kindness, gentleness, obedi-
ence to your father and sisters, and every becoming
disposition of mind. You ought to consider that
your life has been spared beyond our expectation,
and that every hour of it is a fresh call for love,
'honour, wonder, and praise to Gk)d. Read the
.^ord of (Jod, that you may learn the value of time.
£very bour ahould have its due occupation. Read
tly&'woitl, that you may know how to feel towards
your Jtoir friends. For those who love and fear
€k>d, %6w thankful ought you to be I They watch
over your soul, and are daily praying for you. For
those who do not love and fear God, how ought
you to pray ? Who can tell but that your prayers
may be the special means of bringing down bless-
ings upon them. Most especially let your temper
and behaviour towards them show that you yourself
fear God, and love Jesus Christ. Example and
prayer may go together in all God's children. I
hope he will not leave one of your brothers and
sisters, without manifesting a blessing to their soul.
** Will you write to me again, Lydia ? or, if your
dear sister is kind enough to write for you, let every
thought and every word be all your own. I shall

now call upon your young friend Ann W ^

whom I also love tenderly in the Lord, to fulfill her
promise to me, and I will say a few words to her on
the other side. Give my christian love to your
fether, brothers, and sisters; and may they, you.

▲ppsNDix. 285

and I meet at last in that happy place where Christ
k in glory. Pray for yourself, and for

Your true friend in the love of Gk)d,

Leoh Richmond."

^* My own little children send their kind regards
to you, and I beg you will remember them also
when you pfay."

Monday Evening, November^ 1818.

Dear young Friend,

I have i>een thinking how, amongst my numer«
ous engagements, I can best see you and your sister,

and as I wish also to call on Mary H , I w^'*-

you would both corae to her house on ToHSsday
morning, at a quarter before ten o'clock, and I will
meet you there K)n my way to the chapd. ^ To-
morrow I shall be engaged at North Shieldi^ till it
will be too late to see you before the Bible Meeting,
On Tuesday I have a service at the chapel fit eleven,
then a meeting of some young people about Church
Missionary business, an^ a public ^neeting in the
evening. On Wednesday evening at^five o'clock, I
go to Lancaster t you will see by this how much
my time is occupied. I hope Lydia is well enough
to come out. I wish you and your family every
blessing in Christ. *

"Please to give me a line. I was very rftuch
obliged by your last communication. May God
bless you and your's.

I am,

Your's very faithfoUy.

Legh Richmond.'*

« Miss E— G .

Ijydia,4o use the words of her sister, " continued
for about three years after this, to walk in the light

286 APFA2V1IDU

of her Redeemer's counteoance, blessing and praUh
ing God continually." After thiff period, however,
the enemy was permitted, for a time, to gain a
partial advantage over her. The sister already
spoken of, who could have aided and protected her
steps in the narrow road, was removed from her by
marriage. She went to reside with another near
relative, who educated young ladies in her own
bouse. Tbii new association with a variety of gay
and worldly people, soon produced its natural effect
upon Lydia's youthful and ductile mind. Her out-
ward attention to religious duties continued unre-
laxed, and her chief enjoyment was still the wor- •
ship and service of God, but she lost that simple
end child-like confidence which she had heretofore
enjoyed ; she was secretly unhappy because in heart
she had backslidden.

But soon the Lord sent her a warning, by an in«
crease of her disorder, which brought her a peni-
tent to the feet of Jesus, where she afterwards
recovered her peace of mind. At this period, Mr.
Richmond, who had heard something of her state,
addressed to her the following letter*

Glasgow^ June 28^ 1833.

My dear touno friend,

A report has reached me that you are in a very
declining state of health, and that it may soon be
the will of the Lord to take you hence. I am
desirous of knowing what the state of your mind is,
and how far the young beginnings of religion which
I witnessed in your early infancy, have at length
ripened into a due preparation of heart to meet your
God in eternity. Hns the blessing of the Saviour
accompanied the means of grace to your soul ! Can
you rest your ail upon him who died to save sinners ?
?^** vou, with liitle June, the Young Cottager,

commit vonrself to God ss a faithful Creator, and
sure Redeemer? Have the pains of your body
been sanclified to the instruction and consolation of
your soul T Do you feel yourself to be a lost, un-
done, and helpless sinner? Can you flee to the
Btronii; One for help, and see wisdom, lighleousness,
sanclifi,cal(oa, and redemption in Christ ? Have you
really sought the pardon of your manifold offences
against Gad*T If you cannot write roe these things
yourself, ask your sister Elizabeth to do it for you.
I have often thought of you with miogled hopes
and fears. May God answer my prayers Ibr your
sake. Give my christian regards to your father
and sisters, and believe me.

Your sincere friend in the Lord,

Leo II RiLHMOHD."

Of her own letters to Mr. Richmond, no traces

imain. A short note to a young friend, written

'• about this period, is the only specimen we have of
her tmin of thought and esperience, but it will be
seen from it that she recognizes the afflicting hand
of God, as having a second time brought her back
to his fold.

" Mv DGAU Alice,
" I received yours, for which I return (ny most
grateful thanks. My dear friend I sympathize witJt
you in the death of poor litlle Rebecca. I heard of
it soon after; I think your brother told roe. You
truly say there is no passing through ihis world
without trouble} when we look around, we sea
nothing but cCHifiisioo, but in the breast of the
Christian there is solid happiness.' You know this
very well.; but I hope, my love, you feel it too.
Oh that we could cast our care upon Uini that
lloareth for us. See how he invites us to clntw near

388 APPBNDIX.

and taste that He is gracious. I have much cause to
be thankful for my afflictions, for he has brought me
a second time into His fold. O let us not waste our
youth in doing nothing for our Saviour. Dear friend^
if you have felt any of these things, as I trust you have^
do write and tell me of the Lord's dealings with your
soul ; it would so delight my heart to have a friend
like you to go hand in hand to that heavenly country.
Remember, my friend, this is not our home ; we
have a house not made with hands, eternal in the
heavens, and we have a crown of glory that fadeth
not away. — ^What encouragement for young people I
He has said, " They that seek me early shall find
me ;" then let us take up our cross daily and follow
Him who hath bought us with His own blood ; but
I need not say more at present, as I know you are
well acquainted with the subject. So adieu, my
dear, and believe me,

Your*s afTectionately,

Lydia g — :^

Her disorder began soon after this to make such

f)rogress as gave warning of her approaching disso-
ution. In the near view of eternity, she once
expressed to a friend her apprehension, that the
work in her soul had not been genuine, — that her
religion had been too much that of a Pharisee.
Her friend then put into her hand, the Life of Miss

S , whose experience greatly resembled her

own, and appeared so exactly suited to the exigency
of her own case, that she derived much comfort
from it, and shortly attained such a degree of com-
posure in the near prospect of death, as to be able
to say, " I am now perfectly happy, and would not
exchange situations with any one." To another
friend she said, " I have had a sore conflict, but all
is peace now !"

She became so ill as usually to be unable to
enter into conversation. At intervals, however, she

*■' J. -I

•'• ■■'■#■

APPBBBiEfc. " .\r^lift-

«. ••

obtained a little relief. About tti^^ daj^.b^lbre
her death, a friend called, whopi s&^ j^qoekod tof '
pray with her, and then to repaalouQ of her
favourite hymns,

" How firm ft foundatioB, y flaittti of t^ Lotiii'' ft^

She appeared to dwell vfHh delight trpon every
word, and repeated with great amniatioii the last
couplet,

" That Aoul, though allif^ should endeayour to ahake,
I'U never, no noYor, no neret forsake 1 **

■* .

On parting from this friend, t^hom she viras to see
no more in this life, she sent her remembrancenf to
a little Christian society to ^v^hich they both
belonged, saying, '^ Sarah, give my love fo my
young Christian friends, and say to them that I hope
to be the first to hail them when they land on thi^
happy shore, to which I am now hastening.'*

She grew rapidly weaker, but still retained hcur
senses, and her peaceful serenity of mind. Oh
Sunday evening, as one of her brothers was weeping
over her, and not expecting her to survive the night,
she said, *^ I shall see you again in the body."
Soon after, holding the hand of each brother in her
own, she said, *' Oh ! that I could tell my mother,
when we meet, that you are all coming quidkly
after me." She was asked if she had any message
for another brother, then in London. She answered,
*^ Tell him, that though he may be in perfect health
at present, yet

Short is our longest day of life,
And soon the prospect ends ;
Yet, on that day's uncertain strife,
Eternity depends ! "

• >

S90 APPENDIX.

About an hour before her ileath, a pious lady,
called to see her, and prayed with her. She was
unable to converse, but her friend said, *' My love,
I do not wish you to speak ; but if you are able,
tell me, by holding up your hand, whether you are

auite happy." Immediately, as with a last effort,
le raised her half-dead arm as high as she could.
Shortly after, the flickering flame of life rose again,
and having tasted nothing for four and twenty
hours, she asked for something to drink. Her sister
brought it to her, when she put her arms round her
neck, and said, ^*Now raise me up.'' The last
struggle of nature prompted this desire, but on being
moved, her asony was extreme, and she cried out,
''Oh! pray that I may be suffered to go now."
Folding her hands in the attitude of prayer, she
continued for about three minutes, and then said,
** I want breath ! — ^Hold me still ! — I am going —
now !" and sunk into her sister's arms, a corpse.

She had desired a little silver purse, being the
ibost valuable thing of the kind she possessed, to be
gent after her death to Mr. Richmond. She said,
^ he has been my best friend on earth, — ^I wish him
to keep it in remembrance of me."

The following letters appear to have been
written by Mr. Richmond to the married sister of
Lydia, on his receiving the intelligence of her death>

Turvey, Feb. 26, 1825.

"Dear Christian Friend,

"I am much obliged by your affecting intelli-
gence. I am weeping and rejoicing over the grave
of a dear and glorified son. My heart is sensibly
affected by every similar case, and be assured, I
have not forgotten Lydia. I received the dear
child's letter long since, and thought I had answered
it. Oblige me with a full and detailed account of

APPENDIX. 291

all you remember respecting her, from the earfiest
impression, previous to my first sight of her.
Describe her feelings, progress, backslidings, recov-
ery, and whatever you think most interesting and
vmuable relating to her. AccoidpaDyinff it with toy
remarks of your own, and be assvred that I shall
receive them with friendly gratitude. What a
change I from earth to heaven ; fro(n sorrow to joy:
from mortality to immortality I May yoo and I
experience it in God's own time. Give my Christian
regards to your father, sisters, and fanuly* and to
your husband. Do not fear to write at fiill length'
about }^ur sister Lydia, and believe me.

Faithfully yours,

September S8, 1825.
"Dear Christian Friend,

" I have received your parcel just as I am set-
ting out on a journey, and can only at present
give a hasty reply to your kind communication,
which gives me much satisfaction. I receive these
tokens of esteem, both from yourself and yojff
departed sister with much gratitude. I have never,
ceased to think of her with Christian regard, for
although during a season she seemed to fall back
from the earlier marks of converting grace, yet the
Lord again so abundantly owned his work, that we
can now only say, " How excellent is his name in
all the earth." She died but a short time after my
own dear son, whose memory is most dear to me,
—-dear beyond my powers of expression. I shall
preserve her bequest as a tender memorial of her
spiritual regard. I thank you for your explanation
relative to the letter written some years since. It
is quite satisfactory ; you did perfectly right in not
allowing it to be inserted in any printed publication.

•^

392 APFEinnx.

I should by no means consent to that The cause
of Christ prospers much in this placOp and I have
reason to be very thankful. I am under apprehen-
sion relative to the reported dangerous illness of my
eldest son in India. The rest of my family are
prettv well I hope Mn W — p whom I ever
lovea affectionately in the Lord, is better than he
vras some time ago.

Your friend in the Lord,

L* RicBxomo.
Mrs. B»

This sister, Mrs. B , who wag also a spiritual
child of Mr. Richmond, died in the faith on the 21st
of April, 1826, and, as her father remarks, ''would
be among the foremost to hail his arrival on the
happy tiSoreJ' Conjecture would be useless and
vam, as to the numbers who, similarly blessed
through the means of his writings, will throng to
form his ** crown of rejoicing^ in the great day ;
but nothing can be more certain than this, that he
will be found among those who have '' turned many
to righteousness," and who will " shine as the stais
for ever and ever."

THE EUP.

• I

"STsssF^msim

The borrower must rctuni this item on or before
the last date stamped below. If another user
places a recall for this item, the borrower wiH
be notified of the need for an earlier return.

Non-receipt of overdue notices does not exen^tt

the borrower fivm overdue fines.

Harvard College Widener Library
Cambridge, ^a'^138 617-495-2413

;,r:

maKo

bookImjbJ -^

CANCELLED

Please handle with care.

Thank you for helping to preserve
library coUecti<His at Harvard.

Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Books

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "Domestic portraiture; or, The successful application of religious principle in the education of a family, exemplified in the memoirs of three of the deceased children of the Rev. Legh Richmond"

See other formats