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MEMOIR 



OF THE 



REV. BENJAMIN GOODIER. 



Tb^^ 



<X'\-\JU 



(7' r A VC> ^L'C^(. . 



** He beiDg made perftect io a short time, fnifilled a long time : for his 
tool pleased the Lord; therefore hasted He to take him away firom among 
the wicked." 

01tdom tf Soknmn, ir, 13, 14. 



Htbetpool: 

PRINTED BY RUSHTON AND MELLING, POOL LANE, 
FOR G. AND J. ROBINSON, CASTLE STREET, AND R. HUNTER, ST. PAUL'S 

CHURCH YARD, LONDON. 

I 

1825. 



■HiHHHiHaHiaiaHiBMpaaBssaifiHBiii 



Jll^l. f" 







(<^/^ -'--' r/zi-Zd'-.^ 







SONNET, 

TO THE MEMORY OF BENJAMIN OOODIER. 



I saw thee once — but knew not then that frame 

Enshrined a heart so pure and beautiful. 

Though every light of thought which o*er thee came, 

Spoke of that truth with which thy soul was full. 

I saw thee once — and thou wert journeying then 

In Christian calmness to thy blest abode. 

And when I asked tidings of thee again, 

O ! thou wert slumbering in the rest of God, 

Thine early virtues taken — ^here no more 

Their mortal bloom shall shed a sweetness round, 

I tread fair paths which thou hast trod before. 

And haunt the shades once echoing to the sound 

Of thy mild tones — O I hallowod every scene. 

Where goodness such as thine hath ever been ! 

J. £. R. 

iVretUnaU, 



P^IF WH^ 



' « v^ a^ita 



i 



PREFACE. 



It is.thewitt.of a Wise Frovidenoertluit firequeatly the 
brigHmt asd tbe. k>est should be the earliest rtmoTed 
frAm this world of probation and sorrow ; bnt it is im- 
ppsaible.to thi^k that they hare lived in vain> while 
.Ibeir exsMnple is still kft to u^-r-while their virtues 
yet survive to excite the love of excellence* and useful- 
oe<s in the bosoms of other^^ and seem to call to us, 
even from ,their graveis, to press onward unwearied in 
well doing, in the course they have themselves run, to 
ghrji h(moTy ^nd immortality. In this respect, they 
leuret still with us, encouraging us by their, past labours, 
laying U9. wisdom by their, former trials, and bequeath- 
iiig .f;he ri(QhjQfacy of their ^oble deaigns.and benevo- 
Jient b^pes, for their suceesaors tofbUow.up and bring 
to perj|[cti<m. Though they are gone from us, the 
kind d^^dft which they .flamied, the works which they 



iidilBitf 



u. 



accomplished^ the institutions they founded^ still exists 
and bear testimony to the memory of the departed 
good. It is in this way that a double value is con- 
ferred on their virtues, and every relic of those who 
have with hope and patience endured their trial to the 
end^ who with unshaken trust have borne the changes 
and sufferings of life, becomes of inestimable value as 
a confirmation of our own hope, and a seal of the 
efficacy of our faith. In proportion as we appreciate 
such characters we shall become anxious to improve 
and to elevate our own ^ to increase our opportunities of 
usefulness^ to enlarge our benevolence and charity, to 
enter into their labours, and finally to become also 
partakers of their joy. We shall become more sensi- 
ble of the great importance of those religious privi- 
leges, and that Christian knowledge, which produce 
such results in the heart and the life, and our admira- 
tion of the excellence we venerate and love will lead 
us to the only living fountain, which can create 
similar excellence in ourselves. It is thus we shall 
best shew a real affection for the memory of the de- 
parted- — best fulfil their own disinterested and 
Christian wishes for the progress of the great cause 
in which they were engaged-— the promotion of good- 
ness and happiness upon earth. It is with the 
conviction that such feelings are the consequence of 
beholding youthful examples of early piety and 



Ul. 



superiority^ it is with the certainty that they are 
cldcnlated to excite a warm and generous emnlation^ 
that the following pages are submitted to the eye of 
the public. 

The views with which this memoir has been written^ 
will be best described in the following passage^ from 
the preface to the Life of the Rev. Matthew Henry. 

'' I will ask no one*s pardon for transcribing so 
much of Mr. Henry's own papers. — It was my resolu- 
tion^ when at your desire I had undertaken the task, to 
make it as much his own* and as little mine, as possible. 
I have been careful^ from materials of bis own collect- 
ing and treasuring up, to give the world a plain and 
undisguised view of this worthy Man in every relation 
and passage of life ; to represent him faithfully to all, 
in his childhood and in his youth^ in his improvements 
and in his labors -, in the midst of his comforts, and of 
his trials and afflictions ; in his family, and in the church 
of God -y and I have even followed him into his secret 
retirements, and having discovered there the most vital 
and beautiful actings of the power of Godliness, I 
thought it my duty to draw aside the veil, and shew 
the world the interior part of This living Temple, that 
was truly sacred to God in Jesus Christ." 



i 



■■ 



MEMOIR 



OF 



THE REV. BENJAMIN GOODIER. 



1 HB subject of the present Memoir, Benjamiir 
Goodier, was bom April 25 tb, 1 793, at Failswortb, near 
MancbieBter. His father, John Goodier, was. brought 
up to the occupation of weaving, which he followed 
exclushrely during the early part of his life. In the 
year 1790, he married Sarah Taylor, a young woman 
whose parents were also weavers. They had four 
children, Elizabeth, Benjamin, Joseph, and Samuel: 
These children, as soon as they were able to w<Mrk, 
were instructed in their father's employment. In a 
short time after lus marriiEige he commenced a day 
sdiool, only applying to the loom in the intervals of 
leisure which it afforded him ; but he was not able to con- 
tinue this occupation long, on account of the delicate 
health of his wife, who was unable to bear the noise 
of the children. She was a severe sufferer from sick- 
ness for many years, and this circumstance appears to 
hare made a deep impression on the mind of young 
Goodier. It was often with difficulty and pain that 
she pursued her daily task, and on these occasion s> 
though he was then very young, not being more than 

A 



fCTen or dght yean of age^ be woold beg ber to kare off 
and lei bim weave for ber» Soon after tbia period be 
waa tangbt to weave^ aad for some time followed it aa 
bia regular trasineaa. One day, baring performed bis 
task very badly, bia motber waa provoked to strike 
bim, on wbicb, after sbe bad left tbe room, tbe only 
remark be made waa, tbat *' be was very glad to find 
bia poor motber bad strengtb etiongb left to tbnmp so 
bard." He waa at tbis time aboat nine years old. His 
affectionate disposition and excellent abilities very 
early devdoped tbemselTes, and wbile be was still a 
child, be gave indications of tbose tastes and pursuits 
wbicb eontribnted so mncb to tbe bappiness of bis 
lutare life. He early sbewed a great fondness for read- 
ing, and wben only fiye years old, became a mem- 
ber of a library for cbildrcn, wbicb belonged to the 
Dob-lane Chapel, where his father attended. He con- 
tinned tbe use of it for a long time ) and at the age 
of twelve was chosen the librarian. During this 
period of childhood be neglected no opportunity that 
offered for his improvement 3 when about ten years 
old, his father encouraged bim in writing letters to his 
little companions on different subjects, and he found 
food for his remarks in the books which the library 
afforded him. At this early age he shewed marks of an 
uncommon memory ) and as an instance of it, it may 
be mentioned, that he learnt the multiplication table 
in one hour, to the great surprise of his father. 

Although scarcely past the period of his infancy, 
he already shewed an evident disposition to attend 
to the welfare and happiness of those around him, and 
a desire to be useful, which strengthened with his 



jears^ and gradually ripened into tke matnre benevo- 
lence which distingoished his fature character. He 
was in the habit of asking his play-fellows for pence, 
which he gave to the poor whom he met with; and not 
satisfied with this^ would often seek then oot and 
visit them in their wretched abodes. As «oon as he 
was old enough to receive wages, he became ray ex- 
act in the account of his expenses^ and from a book he 
has left, it appears that he laid aside part of his little 
fund for charitable purposes. He took particular plea^- 
sure in making small presents, as far as Ids very scanty 
means permitted, to his poor neighbours^ and as he 
grew older cKd every thing in his power to comfort 
them, under the sufferings whidi they frequently 
endured from the immediate pressure of the times. 
His prudence and economy secured him the best en- 
joyment of his exertions, and he was remarkably con- 
scientious in the proper use of money^ and averse to 
waste. His father says, that ''when he became a weaver 
he was very industrious, and that he soon paid him 
for his board ten shiUings a week. (Wages were then 
much higher than at present.) With wluit he earned 
besides, he was allowed to purchase what he pleated, 
and accordingly took, in numbers, Barclay's Quarto 
Dictionary, the Family Physidan, Meyrick*s Family 
Herbal, &c. and in this manner he spent his time 
and money till he was about fifteen or sixteen years of 
age.** Besides the remarkable anxiety which he early 
shewed for the acquisition of knowledge, he also 
evinced a very amiable and gentle temper, and much 
religious sensibility. He accustomed himself to keep 
a journal, and from the papers he has left, it appears 



«■ 



tbat 8elffCtam]nttio&> fomfd ^ part of ;hi8 pri- 
vate, .exercises. The foUowing . extracts ftovfi his 
mempraDdmn book^.dateA August .the4th> 1810, shew 
the care .with which i he examined his disppsitioi^Sj md 
>hn contiBnai anxiety to improive > they also cdiiew how 
mvtth the comfort of others formed . a p^r.t of his owfi, 
and the pleasure ho had in .pradtisipg a rigid «elf-denn|]^ 
/to enable him ito ;add his laite to the relief -of their 
necessities. His father mentions that he was in the 
iof acrntiQisiag bis condiust .on^^ aipo^th. 
The design of the following pages is toshew^ at one 
.view, how moohl earn by labonr^ andhow much I spend 
in cbthesi Uqnc|r^ swe0tmeMs> <^. jan4 ho^ijir ;n^ch I 
gire in presents^. ebarity, &c. ; I shall thus be able to 
see whether I am iadiuitrions or i^le, cajr^fid o^ waste- 
-fvi, geaerotis oraelfi^h) and byiPopiparing one month's 
account .with anotber^.lto^ ^ee i^hethcor I imprpye or not. 
I hate often tbongbt thatif ^^e were .to wrU^' ^down 
ercry penny we spends and what we spend it in^ or 
ibr^ it might. be^a{me8(ns?yOf helping AS to be ^efal. 
Spending^penHy^ after peniiy> and>taliM»g ^o account .of 
it> is the way^to !be poor. I intend 'to wnte down 
every halfpenny I ea^n* spends or gi?ej ^nd do thou, 
O Lord, grant, that by means of this book, I inay im- 
prove tn;industty, earefnlness^ and charity. A^ien.*' 
''In this month there are some things whitih migbt 
Jiaye been better managed $ clothes, yn^ea^, sweets- 
meats, and liquor not amiss; charity, considf^iag 
the hardness of th^ times aind sickness in the n^dlgh- 
bonrhood, consideral^y too fittle. But do thou, Q 
Lord, grant, that, avarioe may ney<^ be my feeling, but 
may charity, in every sense of )bhe wond, be found and 



. remain in my heart to tlie ages ef eternity; > In t\di 
mtnth preeente look 'frig^thl indeed 3 I mOi • tell the 
reason ; times are so very bad for wearen^-tlMtt they 
really can hardly get food^ and dothes they cannot get. 
I therefore made a present«^I hope thiv will make 
amends, for charity. 

" Excepting charity^ this month's account is not 
very ftiultyj perhaps I judge partially, hot I wiH 
strive to remember, that talents are given me, for 
which I mnst one day give an accouot. May the 
thought ronse^me to action 5 may I be diligent to make 
my calling and election sure, to work out my salvation; 
while " the day of life lasteth, remembering that the 
night of death approacheth, in which I cannot work.*' 

At the conclusion of the book are these words ; 
** I could desire to be truly thankful for the mercies I 
have enjoyed during the period contained in this book. 
O ! may my mind be warmed withtgratitude to God in 
the highest, and peace, love, and good will to all man* 
kind ! Amen." 

The strong devotional feeling which Mr. Goodier 
exhibited in his childhood, probably had its origin 
in, or at least was increased by, the contemplation 
of his mother's sufferings, which were a severe 
distress to him, and turned his thoughts to religion 
for comfort. A paper which he has left, called '*A brief 
account .of the sickness and death of my mother," 
evinces how tenderly he felt for her, and how anxiously 
he endeavoured to mitigate her pain; it also shews, 
how deep an impression was made on him by her pati« 
ence, and continual attempts to exert herself, in the 
midst of her infirmities, for the immediate support of 

A3 



8 

lier chQdreD. The year iMreceding her death, he met 
with an accident which protyably laid the fonndatiftt el 
the pennanent ilbiess of his fntqre life, thongh he reeo^r 
rered from the temporary effects of it ^ he was taidiig 
a horse to water, at a mill-pondj the si^es of whpdi 
were very steep ; the horse slipped, and plunged, him 
OTcrhead in the water, and thongh he was so fortnnate 
as to escape with his life, the consequence .was a severe 
rhenmatic fever, which left him in a state of weakness 
and delicacy, from which he never afterwards entirely 
recovered. ** The disease I wns afflicted with," says 
he, '' was a rheumatic fever, which ajhnost entirely 
deprived me of the use of my linibs ^ I was for som^ 
time incapable of walking, or even of lifting np my feet 
or hands, so that I co^ld neither move from place to 
place, nor feed, myself without assistance ; thongh 
I did not remain in this state long, yet, when I did 
recover some little, I. had so much pain, and was so 
weak, that for near seven weeks I was almost as help* 
less and troublesome as a child.'* At the same time 
that he was seized with this severe fever, his sister 
vifgL& also taken ill ; and he speaks feeliogly of the in- 
creased anxiety and exertion which these trials occa* 
sioned his mother, whose health, however, fortunately 
improved in some degree, about this period. ''At the 
be^nning of this year (1811) my sister and I were 
both sick for a long time, during which, my mother 
enjoyed a state of health, which, compared with what 
she usually bad, was remarkably good ,* my sister's 
complaint was a slow fever, attended with a bad cough, 
a pain at the breast, and several other consumptive 
symptoms, which caused such a weakness of body, «nd 



■ "^ 



9 

Mich a dejected sUte of nmd, as rendered her almotf 
iMapatde of doing any.tbbg to assist herself.** Having 
then given the account ahready mentioned of his own 
safferings^ he adds^ ''as we were both sick at the same 
time, and the two eldest of the (amily» the trouble and 
distress which necessarily fell upon my mother may be 
more eanily conceived than described } it was too much 
for her feeble frame to bear» and I cannot but think 
that it brought on her sickness sooner than otherwise 
would have happened, and probably shortened her days. 
Owing» however, to her comparatively good state ol 
health, she was enabled to bear up against her troubles 
and distresses with cheerfulness, and discharge the 
numerous and increased duties which devolved upo< 
her, with a tolerable degree of ease and activity, unt 
the time of our recovery, for which she was very thank 
ful } for in her« (as in many others) was fulfilled tha« 
comfortable promise 'as thy day is, so shall thy 
strength be.* " He then gives a detailed description of 
Ills mother's sufferings, which arose from a complica- 
tion of disorders that made her days a change of pain, 
and life itself one long disease. After having enume- 
rated her complain ts» he continues ; ''It is evident from 
this faint sketch, that her sufferings were great, and 
not easy to i)ear ^ tha,t she had need of patience and 
resignation to render her life in any degree comforta- 
ble ', and that if she had not been endowed with these 
virtues, in some degree at least, her mind must inevi- 
tably have sunk under the weight of afflictions which 
were laid upon her. Without some confidence in the 
goodness of the Almighty, joined to a full assurance 
that all his dispensations are directed by infinite love 



10 



and tinerrii^ msdom, and that at last they mil n^a* 
riably end in tbe good and ad^ntage of his ereatnres^ 

■ 

tt would be almos(t impossible for tbe human mind to 
b^ar up against such a weight of affliction as my mo« 
ther bad to contend with ; glad am I to say it, aithongh 
her. body was thns racked with pidn, yet her mind 
still maintiuned its accostomed vigoor $ she was always 
wishing to do something, and at night, after passing 
a day of pain and sorrow, generally wished and hoped 
to be better on the morrow. She was continually striv* 
iug to employ herself with either the wheel or the 
needle ; but, about three weeks before her death, she 
became unable either to wind or sew for above a few 
moments together ; her breathing was so difficult, and 
her strength was so completely exhausted, that after 
turning the wheel, or moving the needle a few times, 
her arms refused their task, and she was forced (o rest 
hersdf. As her disorder, or rather her disorders, gra- 
dually went worse, and rendered her weaker and weaker, ' 
she could not but look forward to death as the most pro- 
bable termination of her sufferings, and, I thank God, she 
was not afraid of dying. When she felt herself easier, 
however, a natural desire of life made her sometimes 
think she should recover, and had it been the will of 
God, this was her desire." He then proceeds to give 
an account of the distresses of the times, which were 
severely felt by the poorer classes about this period, 
in the lowness of wages and the scarcity of provisions, 
which occasioned many riots and disturbances in the 
country. — " Whichever way we turned our eyes, 
nothing appeared but distress and anxiety; every thing 
seemed gloomy and desponding 5 the prospect before 



11 

vm aiefmei njiistel a&d .diWAybgj and t)ie pQittical 
li€iri9an:was dfttkenedby.^aQh, a niMnb^r o{ thick heavy 
douflfii^ ^hat U'lseeRded to portcmd such a violent ^torm 
as wf^d:4i9traqt.<|ttd xw the country. My mother 
felt ihe wBigbt.of t:he#e ntf iotWe oir cuHAtftiiQe^j md |tt 
tioiies lihey wAngheriheefft with angnUh. Tbongh by 
the goodness of the Almighty^ .we were in no danger of 
being <^ wuit of 'Jirovisidns^ or aay other .essential 
neceseaiy of life, yet she felt for those v^o veie. 
Distress^ wbieh Ae Md not the means of alleviating* 
was continually ptesentiog Itself before her eyes^and 
she cotdd not^Hit * weep \^h those who weep.' She 
had <inany Tefetions and Iriendb. who were in gceat dis- 
tress* bat what engaged her attention the most^ i^d 
eansed her to de^il-e life, was her ohildren. Though we 
were all in some measure grown up, and .on ^lat ac- 
count .ahe had le^: to fear thski rntost mofhers in. the 
same situation have^ yet when she considered the dis- 
tressing state of tl^e country, and the ;prospect there 
was of distm'banQes tidung place at no very distant 
period, she coitld not but be imxious )to kaonr what 
wavdd become .of tis 3 she oouW not . leate us without 
feeling the paPgB of parental elfj&etion, and .wishing, 
had it been the J^ivine wiU, to have stayed and assisted 
us a. little longer." 

Sudh is the last account which appsiirs of his molber, 
who expired in his anns on the l^.ol Angnst, 1812. 
This loss, was one of the iirst trials >he ex|>eriBnoed 
of the strength aiid support of those principles wbidh 
bore, him up with so much fprtitnde under all hb own 
futuf e afflictions | it long dwdt upon his mind, 
not as a source of vain and fruitless regret, but 



12 



as Ml exercise of that loire of God^ and confidence 
in the kindness and wisdom of all his appointments, 
which sanctified his grief to him, and always connected 
it with ideas of hope and consolation. To the long dis- 
dpline of sorrow, and the early calls npon his sympathy 
and tenderness may, perhaps, be attrimited that qnidc 
sensibility to the happiness or misery of others, which 
so particolarly marked his fiitore life. This disposition, 
which, whilst it increased his anxieties, enlarged also 
the sphere of his enjoyments, enabled him to con- 
tinue bis activity and nsefalness in the midst of his own 
pain and weakness ; and^ under apparently the most 
adverse circumstances, he found, or delighted to make, 
opportunities of doing good. 

It was not destined by Providence that a mind 
so desirous of improvement, and a heart so bene- 
volent, should continue long in obscurity. The 
period was now approaching when he was to be 
called to a wider scene of action, and to enter upon 
new claims and duties, when he was to partake of the 
pleasures of cultivated life, and drink deeper of that 
fountain of knowledge which he had already tasted so 
eagerly. In the years 1811 and 1812, he attended 
meetings for the discussion of religious subjects, which 
were held once a fortnight at different houses, (his 
fether's among the rest) where he was accustomed to 
read his compositions, and at times to deliver the sub- 
stance of them extempore. On one of these occasions 
he composed his first piece, on *' What reason have we 
to believe that there is a God >*' which was followed 
by a series of Discourses which from the excel? 
lenc^ of the rea9oning;s, and the deiir and simple 



16 



mauiier iti Which they are expressed^ might be 
found neefiil to tho8e> who are engaged in the im- 
provement of the labouring classes of society. In these 
writings^ his religions opinions toe fnlly explaioed $ aDd» 
besides the def otional spirit which breathes throngh* 
ont^ they are forcibly writteOi and shew how care- 
fally lie stadied the grounds of his belief, and 
how impartially he investigated the evidences of Chris- 
tianity. At one of these discussions, several Methodists 
attended^andthonghhe was then inaweak state of health 
he met their arguments with lively interest, and defended 
his own opinions with spirit and ability. Some gentle- 
men of .the Unitarian persnasioa who were present on 
one of these occasions, were struck with his discourse, 
and his evident superiority to the society with which 
he was surrounded 3 it ocenrred to them from all they 
heard, that he would be particularly suited to the pro- 
fesaibn of the ministry, and they accordingly entered 
into a subscription, in order to furnish him with the 
means of pursuing the preparatory studies. This pros- 
pect inspired him with new and delightful hopes, and 
he gave the whole ardour of his mind to unremitting 
study, frcm this period, to the time when he was placed 
at the Unitarian academy at Hackney, in April 1813. 
Under the instruction of Mr. Jones, the minister at 
Dob- lane, he commenced the study of the Latin tongue, 
and made considerable progress in it. Though he 
continued his customary occupation of weaving, he 
seized with avidity every moment of leisure, and neg- 
lected no opportunity of rendering himself more fit for 
the arduous duties in which he was so soon to be 
engaged. His sense of the responsibility of the office 



14 



into which he Wfts entering^ and the gratitude he felt 
for the increasing opportunities of improvement thus 
held ont - to him> may be seen by^ an extract from his 
Journal^ written immediately after his removal to 
Mri Aspland's academy, April 25, 1813. ''On this day, 
I shall complete my twentieth year. It becomes me 
to consider the many bleMings I have enjoyed in the 
course of ray life^ and also'tlie improrements I have, 
or might- have, made of th^n. In this period, 
the goodness of God towards me hasi been great 
indeed ; the mercies I hav^received have been greater 
than i can value^ and mors ihkn'I can «inmber; Who 
is it that caused me to be borti' in a'countity where the 
glad tidings of the Gospel are' heard ? Who is it that 
has given me parents who have eduefttedmie to con-^ 
sider the Gospel as the best-gHt of God to man } Who 
is it' that, amidst the. many corruption^ of Christianity^ 
has so appointed things, that I have been- brought up 
in ihe knowledge of ' the only true God and of Jesus 
Christ, whom h8' hath sefit)' knowledge which Is in va^a- 
bk; which tends to comfort the heart and disperse 
those clouds of darkness> those* mists of superstition, 
which attend the popular systems of theology ? But, 
besides my spiritual advantageSi I enjoy many tempo- 
ral fines ; the capacity of being, in some degree, usefnl 
to my friends and neighbours, has produced maiiy 
advantages of a worldly nature , which are likely to 
render my situation in life comfortable and pleasant j 
my health is good, my mind is easy, and I am placed 
in a situation where I possess many means of improve- 
ment. I have lately arrived at this place for the 
purpose of entering upon the studies preparatory to 



15 



the Christian ministry : this object is one of the most 
important which can engage the attention of any man. 
By entering here, I become placed nnckr many. obliga- 
tions and duties to which I . have hitherto been a 
«tranger« and am, indeed^ exposed . to an awful re- 
sponsibility. Whether I consider the expectations of 
my friends and relations^ the obligations I am under 
to the supporters of this Academy^ the necessity of 
doing credit to my worthy Instructor, or the impor- 
tance of the office I . am preparing to fulfil^ the great 
variety of the knowledge I ought to possess^ connected 
with the shortness of the time idlowed for the prepa- 
ration^ I feel my mind forcibly impressed with the 
absolute necessity of redeeming the time. May God 
assist me in this arduous undertaking, and whatsoever 
I do, may it prosper T^ If I seek in reajity for the 
blessing of God, I shall, without doubt, find it ; but it 
is in vain to eifpect his &vour and approbation unless 
I strive, ' by all the means of grace in my power, to 
increase in knowledge and virtue.'* These enlarged 
views of the extent of his duties, and his anxious hopes 
to gratify the expectations x>f his friends, were not 
unavailing^. He pursued his studies with the greatest 
assiduity, and the progress he made in his various 
occupations, gave the highest satisfaction to his Tutors. 
In consequence of his constant application, his 
improvement was rapid in science and languages, and 
he carefully seized every opportunity of adding to his 
general store of information. The great object of all 
his exertions was ever before him, and he continued to 
cultivate that amiable temper and those benevolent 
dispositions, which peculiarly fitted him for that sphere 

B 



16 



bi Qsdataett^to whicb^at tUs time^lie looked fonraHs 
wstk so nrack kop6. He at^nde^ at religions confe- 
rences, wlttch were carried on in the lecture room of 
the Gravd Pit meetings wkere ke distinguished himsetf 
equally fay Ids talents and his candour> his knowledge 
of the ^Scriplures^ and his pleadng manner of convey- 
ing infotmatioii. *'' His coiiTersatioia in private society 
was not lesb interesting and instructive ; he seemed to 
think every moment lost that was not employed on 
some useful subject^ yet he had none of the harshness 
dr pedantry which sometimes belongs io the haird 
atudeut i he was constantly anrusing as well as intel- 
lectual. He was equally admiraible as a leamer or a 
teacher. In company with persons whose judgment 
he revered^ he would easily and unobtrusively lead to 
topics on which he hoped to gain information $ when 
conversing with young children^ of whom he was par- 
ticularly Ikihd^ and ivho eagerly sought his society^ he 
divested instruction i^ dullness, and even when listen- 
ing to the silly arguments of a weak-minded disputant^ 
he failed not to treat him with the patience and consi- 
dei^tion due to every fellow creature; for if the ludi- 
crous absurdity of some remark forced a smile into his 
countetiance^ that smile was so full of candour and 
benignity^ that it could scarcely hurt the feelings of 
him who had caused it.*' With such qualities as these, 
it is not surprising that he won the affections of all 
who knew him> and was so universally beloved; and the 
numbers he had benefited and attached to his welfare, 
in the hutnble circle he had left, prove how sincerely 

* See a Memoir in tbe Monthly Repository, fot February, 1919, 

No.CLVlh. Vol. XIV. 



3^ 



17 

ai»4 moMMiiutty he Ml«re«ted himidf im tlie goodness 
aod luippiaess of all within his reack TkMg1» suddenly 
attd imes^eeledly raised to a higher comttion of \Me, 
lie aot o«ly retaiatsd all hki former attaehnent to his 
Mmda^ b«t also Ike same kind concern in all their 
ciMiiiiiistsMDes and changes^ and the same affectioaale 
anxiety to asMst and improve them. Htn lett^is were 
fiioqaent» and iUeil with argent etttreatik» to hear often 
&om dWBl^^wttli f^;ular acconnts of their proceedings j 
ijkt/f cootaitt the detail of every little hiddent which he 
Uioaglit woald eontribnte to their amusement^ mixed 
vntik omA 8efios» insirnction and exeellefit advice, 
particnlarly suited to their condition in Kfe% His own 
mind m vwikle in iJlv in the spirit of love and piety in 
which) they are .written^ and the vivacity with winch he 
describes the new scenes that snrroanded hinw f n his 
first letter to hie fislher, he says^ " So far as I can jndge« 
from what 1 have already seen^ I shaH spend my time 
l^etii iortractively and agreeably. If the* advantagea I 
akaH enjoys here conld be connected with the friends 
I have enj«yed alDol^lane^ I shoaM be happy itadeed ; 
bttt I shoald recotteet I am not yet in Heaven.'^ One of 
the 6rst letters wlncb Mr. Goodkr sens te his friends, 
is remarkable for its feeliyig and simplieity> and a f^w 
extracts are pi^eeented. 

** DurHam JShme, May HA, 40tS. 

*^ Something whispera in my mind that I ought 
te give some reason for not writing sooner to yon, 
with whom I have long been so intimate, and in whose 
love and friendship and estimation I shall always be 
happy to shares the chief reason I can prodnce is this. 



IS 



[After explaining at some length tbe eaviM of hitf 
silence^ he thns proceeds :] 

^4 trust this reason will completely destroy every sns^ 
picion and every donbt whieh may have arisen in yonr 
minds^ of my warmest attachment to all of my former 
friends^ and more especially to yon 5 yon wiU perhaps 
think it strange^ that I shonkL imagine that any 
of you ever entertained such suspicions 5 but I can 
assure you^ that when I sent off my letter t» 
Mr. W.^ I could not but think yon would be su^risedj^ 
and perhaps rather hbrt, that : I should write to him 
before you > I was tbe more inclined to think thus, 
and be troubled by the thought of reflecting on what 
was often said before I left Dob-lane/ viz. that by 
coming here I should be made high-minded> prond^ and 
conceited, and should think myself almost above 
speaking to my old friends 5 I believe and hope I shall 
never ^ and I wish you to banish from yonr minds 
every idea of this aort^ if you ever seriously thought 
so ; and I know, or at least I believe, that one of you 
has entertained this idea. But what most of all 
troubled me> was what was said to tne when I left, 
which seemed to doubt whether I should ever forget 
you, and has often hung heavy on my mind } I was 
indeed stung most severely by the words at the time — 
Forget you ! it is impossible > friends to whom (next 
to my own family) I am under greater obligations than 
any other of my fellow creatures — ^friends from Whom 
I have always received the greatest kindness, who 
have always treated me as one. of their own family ^ 
if I could forget such friends, as these, I should indeed 
deserve to be considered as one of the most ungrate* 



mmmmmmmm^^mmm 



19 

fal of hafflan beings. I am confident I shall never act 
fluch an unworthy part as that : but I will leave the 
unpleasant subject. From what I have said^ you may 
be sure thAt I find my situation as comfortable as I 
could expect. I have indeed a goodly heritage^ but 
not so comfortable as home; politeness and civility 
reign in this family^ but these are not so sweet to 
me as the openness and unceremonious friendship I 
have enjoyed at home. The chapel is a new and ele- 
gant building, with seats for about seven, hundred 
persons. Last Sunday I received the Lord's Supper 
there -, about a hundred persons stayed, which I am 
told is fewer than usual. I am pleased with Mr. A.*s 
preaching. I never pass a week now without seeing 
authors, some of thetn persons of the greatest abilities. 
Let me know how matters go on at Dob-lane ; how the 
school and the meetings, &c. are ; give my blessing to 
the scholars, and all the supporters of the school and 
meetings. I shall come to every meeting, though the 
distance be so great -, and though when I am there I 
shall not be seen, yet I hope I shall be thought of. 
Tell my father to write as soon as he can 3 I am very 
anxious to hear something both from him and all of you. 
How are they at Dnkenfield^ Have they a minister ? 
Tell me every thing that you think will interest me. 
I shall write once a month at least. May yon all live 
in peace, and may the God of peace be with you ! "^ 

. About this period Mr. Goodier began to exercise 
the duties of his intended profession by occasionally 
preaching for others 3 and the following letter gives a 
very natural and interesting account of his feelings 
and anxieties on first entering the pulpit. 

b3 



20 

" JXtrJUtm HotuCf Jimt 44, 4^4 s» 

''Brothebs and SistbbSj 

" Although I address yoa by this endear- 
ing title^ (for brothers and sisters yon have been to 
me) yet I feel disposed to begin my letter by finding 
fault with you^ for havings so soon> either entirely for- 
gotten me^ or else so far alienated me from your affec- 
tions^ as to consider me unworthy of troubling your- 
selves so much about me aa to write me a letter ^ bi^as 
I have« in my letter to my father^ dwelt perhaps too 
largely, on this topic« I shall not say any thing more 
upon it« but endeavour to write something that will be 
a little more interesting to you. In the last month's Re<- 
pository you will find some account of the opening of 
the new Unitarian meeting-house at Philadelphia. — 
I happened to be in the parlour when the gentleman 
who brought the information called at Durham House. 
After some couversation^ I asked him if he knew Mr. A. 
of New York? *'Yes/* said he, '^verywellj he was one 
of the last persons I spoke to before I set sail ! " After 
asking a few questions about his wife and family, all 
which he answered in a satisfactory manner, I said, ''Is 
he a zealous Unitarian?'* He hesitated a little, and then 
said, ''No; I think he is not a very zea/ous Unitarian, 
but I think he is a very good one.*' 1 hope the 
next letter you write to him you will tell him thi«, 
and say that it is good to be zealously affected always. 
in a good thing. 

. " Before I came, here, I sometimes heard the academy 
called " a hot bed." As a proof that this name is very 
applicable, I need only tell yon, that on Sunday the 
30th of May, I preached '/or t/te greai man , (as he 



21 

stiles himself) Mr. V., who was at that time making 
the greatest efforts to disseminate Unitarianism at. 
Chatham. His chapel is in Parliament Courts Bishops* 
gate Street; the same in which the annual meetings of 
the fond are held : it is a neat buildings with galleries 
on three sides, capable of holding five hundred persons ; 
€m, the opposite side to the pulpit is a small organ. 
The congregation was raised by Elhanan Winchester, 
the great unirersalist preacher. Think what were my 
sematilons when I stood up in that pulpit ! For a raw 
inexperienced country lad, who had scarcely been six 
weeks from home, to enter a London pulpit, and 
address a oongr^^ation in which some powdered heads 
were assembled, was rather a bold undertaking. To 
stand in a pulpit which is regularly /iiled by such a 
man as Mr. V., and which has been filled by such men 
as Aspland, Grundy, Wright, Winchester, &c. was an 
arduous undertaking : it made me tremble. My text 
was, *'What must I do to be saved.?** Mr. A. sent my 
fellow-students with me to criticise a little, or rather, 
I should say, to see how I acquitted myself, and report 
to him accordingly. Their report was very favourable 
to me 5 I was not, however, contented with it; I 
wished to know what faults I had committed, or what 
blunders I had made, and was urgent with Mr. C. to 
tell me. He accordingly mentioned these three things ; 
first, that I ran up the pulpit stairs ; he said I walked 
a few steps and then began to run, but I really cannot 
remember that I did ; second, that when I got into 
the pulpit, I hung down my head as if I was ashamed ; 
and I may say, no wonder that I did 3 thirdly, that I 
pronounced the h three times, where I ought not to 



i» 



hkYt done ) tbis you will not understand I dare aay^ 
bat I matt explain it. It is the eustom in Lancashire^ 
generally^ to pronounce a word which b^ns with s 
vowel as tbovgh it b^gna with a k, and a word which 
b^ns with a il as though it began with a vowel -, this 
habit has cost me more since I came here than any 
bad habit I had acquired $ but I am almost cured of 
it. I shall strive to remember these three things : 
I am glad that I committed no greater faults. You 
will perceive that I have written Mr. C. above, but if 
I had been speaking to him I should have said 
Thomas C. Soon after we came here^ we agreed to 
address one another by our christened names : I could 
not bear to hear *'3fr. Goodier" "Mr. Goodicr** con- 
tini^aliy repeated, and my fellow-students were in the 
same humour. In the house, however, I am compelled 
to endure it ; I trust I shall receive no harm by it, but 
if I should, when I come home I hope you will assist 
my brother J. in reforming me. 

*' How is it that you do not write to me ? How do 
you all do ? Does Mr. J. give you sound Unitarianism 
as often as he used to do? ^re you all comfortable and 
happy ? Be sure, if you wish him to be content 
where he is, to write often to your friend and 
brother,'* &c. 

To the modest account Mr. Goodier has himself 
given, of his first appearance in the pulpit in the pre- 
ceding letter, it is pleasing to be able to add the testi- 
mony of one of his friends to the excellence of his 
compositions, as well as the proofs he at this time 
gave of the astonishing powers of his memory. 

'*In returning from the Gravel Pit Unitarian 



is 



CliQrch> Hackneyj he went through, as appeared 
to me, the whole of a sermon which we had jast 
before heard, taken from the epistle to the Hebrewty 
* Looking onto Jesns the .author and finisher of oar 
faith,' &c. verbatim \ (deliyered by the late tmly 
venerable Rev. £. Butcher, of Sidmouth); and when in 
bis stndy at Durham House, wrote the sermon down 
tbe same afternoon ! The other was in regard to the 
J!rsi sermon which he delivered (when at the academy) 
in Parliament Court Chapel, ArtiUery Lane. Two or 
three days previous, he it^as informed by our worthy 
tutor, that it was proposed for him to preach there the 
following Sunday : Saturday, the day before> he sat 
down to prepare himself for the work. The text he 
made choice of, was from tlie book of the Acts of the 
Apostles, ''What must I do to be saved } ' and he soon 
penned what I considered a very edifying discourse ; 
and by half-past nine o'clock on the Sunday morning 
he finished suitable prayers to the sermon, for the 
whole of the service 3 which, together with the sermon^ 
he put into my hands, and repeated verbatim. In the 
sermon, he copied a large quotation on grace, from a 
work of the late Rev. Dr. Cogan, which, along with 
tbe sermon, he repeated correctly ! Finding that he 
was competent for delivering the whole without having 
it before him, he left the sermon and prayers in his 
stndy, and went and delivered the whole of what he 
had written, I confidently believe, word by word.*' 
The gentleman who wrote the above was only a few 
months a fellow-student with Mr. Goodier, it is there- 
fore particularly pleasing to record his concluding lines. 
^'I feel myself very happy in stating, that his friendship 



f4 

lewftvdf me wm most ftkkkful and %m4e&nng, ftii4 
bave no doubt that bad it pleased the IKviiie Pvovidvneo 
to have lengtbeaed bis years considerably^ be would 
banre become one of the brightest pmameQts, aod 
most active and zealons in supporting and strcngUiea* 
ing the Umtarian caase.*' 

in the midst oi Mr. Goodier*s literary efforts and 
nnoeasing application , bis thoughts and aiisetlotis 
ofleft tamed towards bome ; and while ho citracted 
from the present scenes in which be was placed^ all 
that they afbrded eitber for kuproTement or atmise-> 
meat, be never forgot the kmdneffiies of former years^ or 
ceased to look back with gratitude to the friends of bts 
youth. He determined to falfil their fondest expecta^ 
tsensy and he made proportionate exertions^ anitiDg to 
Ina natoral ardour of mind an indefatigable industry 
mA psfHttitkUkte $ be was deejay impressed with the 
neeesaity of improying the short time allotted him i^r 
bis preparatory studies^ and anfortnnately it was 
deatiaed to be yet shorter than he or any of his frienda 
anticipated. Soon after the above letter was wrkteir^ 
fae wrote again to his friends^ and these letters, thoogh 
faU of simplicity, to those who like to remark the 
development of mind and character, mfiy, perhaps, not 
be found wholly uninteresting. The first was written 
to a young friend and fellow-student of his, during bis 
own absence from the academy^ 

"ffig^k Street, Boston, Jufy f§th, liia, 

** Dear Frienp, 

** Almost the last time you and I had any 
eottversalaon together, we engaged to write once a 
iv«ek to each other; though I have neglected to do this 



t5 



•t tbe time ap^iated^ yet» trnatiiig to ydiir good iiAtsro 
for my pardon, I seize with plctture the ^^portnii^ 
of doing it now. You will naftoradly expect tbet 
I slmll ipte you some ucoount of what I haYe seem, 
what I ha?e dome, and what I intend to do. It would, 
however, be impossible for me to give you a particnlar 
aeeount of these things, and yon must therefore be 
eontent with a very brief one. You know that I left 
Dnrham Honae on Saturday week, and had a very 
pleasant ride to Newmarket, where I arrived about 
four. I looked around rather eagerly for Mr. C — ^1» 
but saw nothing of him : at length a poor man pressed 
ifbrward, and asked if there was a gentleman there 
going to Sohani : I answered that there was, and he 
and I soon aJter set off together 5 and on the way he 
told me thtft Mr. ۥ had received a letter last week, 
informing him that his mother was at the point of 
death, and that he was of course gone to see her^ and 
wflfi not expected back for some weeks. He ako told 
me, after I had asked several questions respecting the 
congregation and preaching, that Mr. W. had (pten 
notice, that a young man from London, of good abilitiea, 
would be there on the morrow, and that consequently 
he expected the chapel would be well filled. I was 
surprised to hear this, and rather hurt, because I 
thought that it would raise expectations which I shouM 
not be able to answer. We arrived at Soham about 
half*)>ast six, and soon after went to see the meeting- 
houae, and also that which they left when the division 
took place. I conld not but think it strange, when I 
looked back to the time when I read the account of 
these disputes and this division, that I should be 



m 



Bta&ding on the sj^ot wb^re they took place. The 
Meeling-honse is a very good one, holds three htm- 
dred people. In the morning on Sunday^ the congre- 
gation carried on the service among themselves^ as I 
did not like. preaching three times. In the afternoon 
I preached to a very good and attentive congregation^ 
chiefly poor people. I had the pleasure of ^ving 
satisfaction to the whole of the meeting, bnt especially 
the poor; they seemed very well pleased indeed. 
After the sermon many of them remained in the 
chapel wishing to speak, and yet afraid to. do it } 
1 however spoke to them, shook bands with them, 
gave them Mr. A*s respects, asked how they did, and 
made myself as free with them as . possible, which 
pleased them still more. At night I went to Wicken, 
and as we entered the village, the people came out to 
tee us, apparently curious to see the Young Preacher; 
for, a notice^ much of the same nature as that at 
Sohcun, had been given here. You see I am not 
entirely out of the way of temptation. I was soon 
seated in that hon^e in which Mr. A. first drew breath. 
Think what I felt ! I preached in the barn, or rather 
meeting-house, to a very crowded congregation ; 
poor, serions, and attentive. Several could not get 
in—- it was a hot evening, so that you may think what 
work it was to preach— I exerted myself as much as 
possible— text, 'By this shall all men know,*— -people 
well pleased — one old woman in particular, could 
scarcely help shedding tears of joy when she shook 
hands with me : she said to Mr. A. ' God bless the 
child.* On Monday evening I preached in a barn at 
Isleham, about six miles from Wicken. At this village 



27 

dupntes on doctrinal (mbjects run high^ so tliat I was 
forced to preacli a i>#cfrMiii/ Smbjeci'^text, 'Ye meti of 
I«raei> bear^* &c.— object to prove tbat tbeApostles wc;re 
Uoitariaa Preachers $ congregation good> poor, and 
a.ttc»Qtii^. I almost despaired, at first, of makinjg 
them either be attentite, or Understand what was said 
to them i 1, however, talked to them, and the conse- 
qnence wa8> that they were very attentive; several 
Calvinists were present. On Wednesday night I 
preached again at Soham, to a good congregation, not 
so large as that on Sunday — text, 'Acquaint thyself 
with God,* &c« We had afterwards a meeting of the 
young people in the vestry, for the purpose of esta* 
biishing, if possible, a Sunday School, for which I had 
been pleading hard in the close of my sermon. Several 
vtl itieir names down as teachers and subscribers — a 
little was subscribed to begin with-'^several scholars* 
names were taken down, and I have no doubt but a 
school will be formed, if Mr. C. comes back soon and 
pushes them on a little : they want pushing — they are 
few and dispersed. I experienced as much pleasure 
among the Soham people as I ever experienced in my 
Ufe ; they are iibdeed a free, open, honest, sensible^ 
and affectionate people, especially the poor. I did my 
best among them, and endeavoured to inspire them 
with zeal for the good cause. On Friday went or 
rather came to Wisbeach,*- -tired when I arrived, but 
was soon refreshed by the care and kindness o! 
Mrs. W., a good old lady, truly affefctionate ^ she has 
aniformly treated me as her own son> and I have 
. scarcely been able sometimes to refrain from calling 
her mother : she resembles my grandmother very much 



9» 

On Satorday saw Mr. W. and spent Ike day witk hini 
tery agreeably. Siin4ayi preached for them in the 
morning— he acted as clerk for me. I can assnreye« 
I felt very mnch agitated when I entered the pnlpitr 
chiefly on his account. To preach before such a manr 
as )4r< W. wa/B no easy task ; I however got over it 
tolerably well. On Monday came to Boston-«*a line 
country— -e^lpect to see Mr. A. to-day and Mr. H. from 
Lineoln — ^association to-morrow— we are all in great 
spirits — ^how do yon all do ?-^how is the family ? 
*->wishing yon erery blessing, I remain year sincere 
friend." 

- After his return to the Academy, he addressed the 
following letter to his friends in Lancashire. 

** Durham Hotui, Stpttmkef 4atj 4ii3. 

^' DnAn BaoTHERS and Sisters, 

" I have threatened in two of ray last 
letters, not to write to you till you had written to me; 
but as I have a few minutes to spare, and see by my 
father's letter that three of you, H., M., and S. have 
each got a part of a letter for me, in hopes of making 
them into whole ones, I now venture to write a few 
lines more, though I have not much to say, except 
what r have said. I dare say, however, [it will give 
you some pleasure to hear, that after a journey through 
one of the richest and flattest parts of England^ I am 
again at Hackney. I felt a foretaste of the pleasures 
I shall feel when I come home, when I arrived here 
and was welcomed by the family. In my journey, I 
have seen a great deal of the country, which has been 
alUalong, with the exception of the fens^ very beautiful. 
I liave also made several acquaintances at Soham, 



99 

Wis¥eatt1ii tad Bostoa. I feand a womaa at Sohaai, 
who very iaach resembles my mother; this I hate 
perhi^s told you b^we. I promised to driikk tea witk 
ber wheaever I risit jSoham. Brink iea i yes, I am 
mlmosi a tea dlriaker, I have had it twice a day for si^ 
weeks^ and mast haVe the hext foar ) bat when I settle 
agaitt, I shall soon get cored* I haye preached ia my 
joamey fifteen titteS ; nine of them at T^sbeach, I 
eadeaToar to preroh to the /»oof— k'Speak a^ ^lain as I 
caa-^I streak terribly too fast — 1 generally preach 
aboat forty iniaates^ whiich is ten too long* I cannot 
yet avoid tremblibg a ltttld-**on a Siiaday I often send 
my thoaghts home> and picture to myself the pleasure 
I have efljoyed at the chapel-^ I however feel more now 
when the day is over. I have often felt the want of 
Mr. A. the last six weeks, but shall h6 well supplied 
by Mr. W. the next* I am going to set out to- 
morrow, and anticipate a great deal of pleasure in his 
company — I often think, how we shall look, ploddii^ 
together. When we get all of us together again we 
ah^l haVe many things to talk about, respecting these 
journies. You will, I doubt not, feel the loss of 
Mr. Bi very severely. I can assure you, I felt for you 
very much, when I heard and reflected also that 
Mr* €r. was Ifttill so bad«— all of you in Laaciashire must 
be greatly the sufferers.— -You must see Mr» A. 
and g^t him to prea6h> if possible> on Monday night*^ 
make yourselves free with him— I should like you, 
when you write, to give Ine a very particular account 
of the progress John A. has made in learning—-! some* 
times look at his Mttle driiwing*— yOu must tell me how 
they all are at Dukenfield — what you thought of 



so 



Mr. W.J the youngs preacher— -yon mmt tett me ms 
much news of a domestic nature as possible. What- 
ever good advice you think I stand in need of, yon 
must give me. I suppose the young men will some of 
them tell me, what sort of a meeting ' the meeting of 
the young persons of the different congregations,' to 
be held at Cockey Moor was. I wish some of you to tell 
me what you really think of the Oldham cause. I hope 
you are still the good families you formerly were > does 
pride make no inroads amongst you ^ — Is L. as good 
tempered as usual ?— how does E. do at Dnkenfield? 
'-^do yon live with him in turns ? — I hope you will all 
keep close to Dob-lane j never think of leaving — ^how 
have you managed the farm?— it is dark-^I must go 
to tea— I have to pack up my things for to-morrow. 
Fare you well." 

Though Mr. Goodier does not complain much of hk 
health, yet a letter eoatainii^ some advice to a young 
friend who had been out of health, conveys the im- 
pression of his writing from his own experience. 
Though he does not appear to consider himself a 
decided invalid, yet from his anxiety and the earnest- 
ness of his cautions on this subject, it evidently 
appears that he spoke from his own previous know- 
ledge. The vacation of this sisimmer had been part of 
it spent in excursions, for the purpose of preaching in 
different country places > which had afforded him an 
opportunity of trying his powers for the pulpit, while 
it increased the sphere of his general usefulness. His 
own words will best describe the feelings and views 
with which he made his earliest trials in the office of a 
Christian Minister. 



31 



** Zhirhtim Hmuw, Stptetnber itt, ii43» 

" Dkar Fbibnd^ 

'* It is with sincere pleasure I now sit 
down to fulfil my promise of writing to yon. I kave 
heard by C — that yon are much better than you were 
when we parted^ at which I rejoice. I should be 
4iappy if you could perfectly recover your health and 
strength^ and be enabled to resume and pursue your 
studies without inconvenience. I have often doubted 
whether you would be able to go on without seriously 
endangering your life 5 and to have these doubts re* 
moved^ and be assured that your health was such as to 
bear you through the intricate and difficult paths of 
Hebrew^ Greeks and Latin^ with pleasure to yourself 
and friends, would give me great satisfaction. You 
know 1 have been accustomed to speak plainly on this^ 
as well as on all other subjects^ and I can give it as 
my decided opinion, that unless your health has been 
indeed greatly altered for the better, you will not be 
able to do this. If you are in the same, or nearly the 
same general state of health as when you left, studtf^ 
will be death. This expression may appear strong, 
but I am afraid it is not more strong than true, I 
would advise you to consider the subject Yf^ yourself . 
You know your constitution better than any of your 
friends can tell you. You know that though you may 
be in good spirits to-day, owiug to exercise in the 
open air, to-morrow you may be oppressed with a 
weight on your breast, accompanied with a complete 
depression of spirits, which will render you totally 
unable to profit by your studies. Weigh all these 
things well in your own mind, and may you be guided 

c3 



32 

ia your determinations by that wisdom which will 
cause all things to work together for good. 
*-'* I returned from my first 'jonmey yesterday 
mornings and am going to set ont on my second t6« 
morrow. I hare s^eh iu this journey many .beantifnl 
ptosjl^ts of the cDnntry, iif^hich at this season^ when 
aU: nature-is teeming with the bounties of the Great 
Ohrerof good, is delightful. In most of the places^, 
Iftud -sterns to be Vety productive. I have also seen 
flfany different people, and beccrme acquainted with 
severai, whose fHendship and esteem will be gratifying 
In fut^e life. Ther^ are indeed many good characters 
amongst the Unitarians at Soham^'Wisbeach, Boston, 
Knd Dutton. Their ' kindness to me has brightened 
the^ last six weeks to a great degree. I can assure 
you I have been very happy. The more I know of 
the Unitarians, 'the more i love them — the more I 
lament that they should experience* such a scarcity of 
ministers-^many congregations are without. I wish 
there was- about fifty or a hundred young men, .atl of 
promising talents, at our Adademy 3 then would it be 
an j4ima Mater to all our churches, and cause th^m 
to sing for joy. You wish to know how 1 have felt in 
preaching, I dare say. I' have upon the whole felt 
much pleasure ; but to have the whole care of a 
congregation on my mind, has often made me uneasy. 
I have trembled in the pulpit almost every time, have 
found it difficult to bring forward new matter, hav9 
composed sermons with much difficulty, and sometimes 
have been unable to please myself. Sometimes I have 
been ready to cry out, ' I am not fit to enter a pulpit 5 
I ought not to preach.* I have however been forced 



ss 



to go on, and aftef the Sundi^V work, has-been iover, 
commonly looked back upon.. it with mtich pleasure. 
I am eonscioas that I am .nnftt tOi preach muek, . bnt I 
mn&t> and am willing to do all I can to forward the 
good canse of JTnituianiam. Mr. €.• and I wiU ll>e 
glad to hear from, yon. Whether yon con^e or-not^ 
we hope yon will think on these things :-«^r8t,^0M«» 
ftfiMsf on ns ; . second^ alwmfi on t;he improvement of 
your mind $ third> on the necessity pf living, the^life, 
that yon may die the death of a righteous man >. fonrth^ 
on . preaching occasionally. May yon be restored to 
healthy if it be the will of God; . if not^ may. .yon 
bear sickness with firmness and patience $ and may 
it prove a means of- preparing yon for the enjoyment 
of an exceeding and eternal weight of glory^ is the 
prayer of yonr firiend^'* &c. 

The following is a letter of advice to his sister^ 
(who had lately married) and her husband, on the 
duties and responsibility of their new situation. 

" Durham Hotue, Dec^ber Sitiy liis, 
'^ DeAB BaOTHER AND SlSTEft^ 

^' I feel it to be my duty to address, a 
few lines to yon on the subject of your late marriage^ 
by which you have both entered into duties of the 
most important nature. I need not assure yon that 
I feel very much interested for your welfare, and shall 
always be ready ^nd happy to promote it by every 
means in my power. I cannot at present do thi^ in 
any other way, than by striving to shew each of yoi^ 
in what an important situation yon standi and point* 
ing out a £ew of the most necessary duties incumbent 



34 



upon you ; and I have no doubt yon will believe me 
when I say, that in these renuurks I have no other 
object in view than to advance the happiness of both. 
In yonr marriage you have united yourselves together 
by a solemn engagement made in the presence of the 
.Almighty Searcher of Hearts, till you are separated by 
death. You have made the most solemn promises of 
loving and assisting one another. I know this engage- 
ment and these promises are often made without re- 
flection, and forgotten almost as soon as made -, but 
surely this will not be the case with either of you. 
Think of these promises and determine to. keep them. 
Yon have married for life. Your interests are now 
become inseparably connected. On your conduct 
towards yourselves and one another depends your 
happiness for life. You may, if you will^ live happily. 
Determine to be happy and you are so ; but this 
determination will require you to keep inviolate your 
marriage promises. You have, I am persuaded, been 
brought together by love — ^you married from love, and 
you stijl love — strive to keep alive this feeling, it will 
make all your difficulties easy, lessen all your sorrows, 
and sweeten all your joys. In order to keep up your 
loVe towards one another, you must fix it on some- 
thing more substantial than beauty of countenance, 
person, &c. -, these will soon vanish, and if this be all 
the love you feel, it will be of little value and of little 
assistance in a few years. Dear friends, let your love 
be a love of mind, and affection for the qualities of 
the heart 3 this is alone the love which will survive 
the loss of beauty, of health, and strength, and will 
still continue to flourish even in old age. 



35 



** It is too common fior young people to think, that 
M soon as they are married they may leave off those 
little attentions towards one another they have been 
before aocnstomed to use. The bride thinks there is 
no necessity for the neatness of dress, or the pro* 
priety in behaviour, she has before practised. The 
bridegroom thinks he may use greater liberties in con- 
versation, more authority in manner than formerly. 
This is a most dangerous mistake ; beware of falling 
into it. Take John Wesley^s plan 5 he says, ^L^t young 
people treat one another for two or three years after 
marriage as much as possible in the same way they 
did while courting, and they will have so far got a 
habit of it, that they will never afterwards leave it 
off/ 

" I need not say a word to either of yon on the 
necessity of industry and prudence; you are well 
aware that without the one nothing can be gained ; 
without the other nothing can be kept. Industry and 
prudence will keep house at all times, and in almost 
any circumstances. 

'' Before I conclude, let me remind you that all 
your virtues will be weak and often broken, your 
love will be lan^id and cold, every thing in short 
will go wrong, unless you are religiow. It is religion 
only that can make our journey through life pleasant ; 
'Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her 
paths are peace.* It is particularly necessary for 
married persons to be religious. You are likely soon 
to become parents ^ you should consider that you will 
soon have to undertake the important duties of educa* 
tion. No child can be well educated — no child can be 



38 



to sum up mllj it. is mide lo ihe fbr evet; you may 
giVe birtb to^ bmt y<Mi can ne?er dentroy a child i and 
let it be considered^ that the present and Intnre hap- 
piness ^ all children, in all eircnmstances, nraat 
depend almost entirely npon thdr conduct ; this ton* 
dnct depends on their edncation and early halnts> and 
this edacation depends on parents. Thus yon see, the 
Great Parent of all, to whom we mast give an acconati 
by making yon parents, has called yon to the dischnii^ 
of a most serious dnty 5 ke has given you the power, 
of making your child happy in herself, and. a conifort 
to you, or the reverse. She is now innocent— her 
tender mind, like a sheet of writing paper, is piu« 
aod white — on that sheet you are appointed to write» 
—it is for you to determine whether you will write 
fair and beautiful characters, or disfigure it with foul 
blots. . Consider her situation, and discharge your 
duty. Make her good, and you make her happy: make 
her bad, and you make her miserable. And remember 
that your happiness or misery dq)end8 in a great 
measure upon her's-. The wise Father of all has so 
clearly connected parents to children, and children to 
parents, that if one suffers, they both suffer 3 — if one 
tejoices, they both rejoice. As then you value your 
child's happiness and your own, in this world and in 
the next, determine to train her up in the way she 
should go ; and may you receive from the source of 
strength and wisdom, a sufficient degree of assistance 
to carry this determination into effect. You will 
excuse my earnestness on this subject, when you^con- 
sider how nearly I am connected with you^ and how 
knxious I am to see you live comfortably. 



89 

It was in the begintiing of the year 1814, that Mr. 
Goodier felt the first serious symptoms of that com- 
plaint, the fonndation of which had probably been 
earlier laid> though he now, for the first time, became 
sendble of its progress ; he suffered from a cough and 
pain in the side, and frequent exhaustion^ but his 
eagerness in his pursuits still continued, and it was 
iwth difficulty he could be persuaded to relax at all in 
his usual occupations. In the summer of this year he 
paid a long visit to his friends in Lancashire $ a few 
weeks before he left London, he wrote to them, but 
he had then no idea of seeing them so soon, and he 
mentions his illness merely as an accidental cold. 

" Durham Houte, Ma^ 13, 1814. 

^ D£AB Brothers and Sisters, 

" Though you are now separated in 
some degree by the distance of your dwellings, yet as 
I know you are still the same, one in mind, I address 
you collectively, and shall, by writing to one family, 
coufiider myself as writing to the other. I received a 
note a iew days since from sister L., inclosed in a letter 
from my brother, for which I wish to thank her, though 
at the same time 1 cannot but complain of its brevity* 
if she had felt half as much affection towards me as £ 
feel towards all and each of you, she would have kept 
thinking what would be pleasing to me, and would 
have written on till her paper had forced her to lay 
down her pen. When have I written to you without 
giving you a full sheet, even though that sheet should 
have been a folio? I found by the note that your 
mothers had been unwell, and indeed this is not sur- 

D 



40 



prising -, so severe a winter must, to all, and especially 
ta the old» have been peculiarly trying. I coald not 
help trembling when I thought of Alice, so feeble «i 
she was, she most have been vnusnally supported, both 
by divine and human help, or she would not still con- 
tinue to weather the storm. For my own part, though 
the weather was so severe, yet i was never mor» 
healthy in my life. I last week went to hear a very 
popuUr minister preach the annual sermon, in behalf 
of the society for promoting the conversion of the 
Jews, and to see six Jews baptized; though I was^ 
there half an hour before the time, I was too late to 
get a seat, and, wedged in the midst of a crammed 
congregation, I was forced to stand three hours ; this 
gave me a severe cold, which has been accompanied 
with a pain in my breast } however, I am much better, 
and if my preaching on Sunday does not make me 
worse, I expect to be quite well in the course of the 
next week. With this exception, I have suffered 
nothing, either from coldness of weather or any thing 
else — but 1 am going on too fast and too long about 
self' — ^pardon me for this. 

" I ought to congratulate L. on having at length 
gained the possession of a farm -, but whilst I do this, 
I fear it will also be necessary to lament .this acqui&i'^ 
tion — have y6u taken the farm at the old rents } If you 
have^ your farm will be dependant on the earnings of 
the loom. Peace is now all but signed, and it will be 
impossible for provisions to maintain their present 
prices, consequently, the present rents of farms cannot 
be paid, and it must rest with the landlord, whether 
the tenant shall be ruined or the rent be reduced. I 



41 



wMi yon would write and ioform me bow the dase 
stands with yon iu this respeot. I have mentioned 
peace — ^how shonld we rejoice that this blessings so 
long and so anxiously desired, has at length visited 
our Bative country ! Though it will ruin many of the 
farmers, unless Parliament interfere to present it, yet 
it will bring such an accession of happiness to the great 
majority, that were we amongst those ruined by it, we 
ought to rejoice. In the midst of my rejoicings, I 
have still had one or two thorns, which have greatly 
lessened what I should otherwise have felt, I mean the 
war of America^ &c. Soon after the abdication of 
Buonaparte, I read in the Morning Chronicle, 
fhat 'ten thousand stand of arms were ordered for 
America,' and that 'every preparation was making 
to chastise her insolence.' There were some hot 
headed bigots who began to entertain thoughts of 
reducing her again to a province. I could not bat 
tremble for the poot Americans, and especially for 
your brother^ who I know is determined, if nece/ssary, 
to die in defence of his country* 

''Mrs. S. gave me a pretty good account of as many 
of our congregation as she knew } I still wish to know 
a few more particulars, especially respecting the meet* 
ings and the school.>^Does every thing go on plea?* 
isantly ?— are the meetings lively ?-— does J. B. support 
them as zealously as ever ? — are the scholars regular 
in their attendance ?—*are the congregations as good 
as nsual?-^how is my good friend A.r— I wish yon to 
remind him that he owes me a supper and a night's 
lodging, which I hope soon to receive from him." 



42 



A few weeks after the above was Mritten^ Mr. 
Goodier was taken extremely nnwelly and he wrote to 
his father to inform him of his illness^ and to prepare 
him for his immediate arrival at home. In this letter ^ 
it appears evident that he was now, for the first time, 
aware of the dangerous tendency of his complaint^ and 
it is remarkable^ that he seems to feel it principally as 
occasioning a suspension of hb usefalness. 

" Durham Houte, June 17, 1814. 

'^ Dbar Father^ 

*'l sit down to write to yon with 
peculiar emotions of pleasure and pain 5 emotions 
which I know you also will shortly feel — how will yon 
be surprised and pleased, to be informed that in one 
week from this time, if nothing unforeseen takes place^ 
I shall be at home ! — and how will you be alarmed and 
grieved, to be told that this early, arrival is caused by 
my precarious state of health, which renders country 
air, if not absolutely necessary, at least highly desira- 
ble. Since the meeting of the Unitarian fund, I have 
been an invalid, and have done nothing with Mr. A. 
in the way of study, nor have I preached for a month. 
I have purposely avoided writing to you, that I might 
not give you too much alarm, and that when I did 
write, I might be able to give you a favourable accouat. 
I can assure you that I am almost afraid to write now, 
for I know yon will imagine my illness to be much 
worse than it really is ; however I shall proceed to give 
you a true and full statement of its nature and progress, 
and I trust when you have read it, you will banish all 
undue anxiety, and wait patiently for our meet!ng. 



43 

" YoQ have before beard tbat I caugbt a severe cold 
at the Jews' cbapel in the beginning of May. This 
was accompanied with a cough, and a pain in my left 
side^ which affected my breathing : the latter I had 
quite got rid of, though the former was still trouble- 
some, when the meeting of the fund took place. 
About half-past six o'clock when the interest of the 
meeting was at its height, I was troubled by a fit of 
bleeding at the nose : this had happened a time or 
two before, and as the bleedings were very copious, I 
have no doubt but I was much relieved by them. At 
the close of the meeting, about ten o'clock, Mr. A. 
came to Mr. C. and I, and desired us to make haste 
home, and tell the family that he was bringing Mr. K. 
to supper. I did not pay sufficient attention to my 
state of health, but very imprudently, warm as I was, 
got my hat and came off, hoping that by walking fast 
I should avoid all dangerous consequences. In this 
however I was mistaken j before I got half the way 
home, I was seized with a violent pain in my side. 
Still I apprehended nothing serious, and expected it 
would soon be better. I put on a face of cheerfulness at 
supper, and all the time I was in the parlour, and even 
went so far as to guide Mr. K. to his lodgings after 
supper. In the morning I was, as you may suppose, 
no better, but rather worse. Mr. A. gave me an 
introduction to Dr. Pett, an excellent Physician of 
Hackney ^ he was not at home, and I was forced to 
wait till the next morning, i then found him at home, 
and he treated me with great kindness ; he inquired 
very minutely into the state of my health, and by his 

d3 



44 



qnestions I could plainly perceire he thought me con- 
sumptive. I was ordered by the doctor to live loir^ 
to keep myself quiet^ to avoid all exposure to the 
weather, to beware of exertion, and especially exer- 
tion of the lungs^ not to read nor speak aloud, and not 
to think of preaching for some time. I am still under 
this regimen. I go out in fine weather, and walk a 
good deal in the garden -, by following these directions 
I have got much better. I still feel a degree of weak- 
ness, and a good deal of languor, both in body and 
mind. I have been forced to spend some days almost 
entirely in bed, and now I lie almost twelve hours out 
of twenty-four -, this perhaps causes the languor. 
However, I doubt not that the pure air of the country, 
feeding on the unadulterated provision of nature, and 
enjoying the comforts of a paternal roof, will in a few 
weeks restore me to my former state of health and 
spirits. To enable me to do this, Mr. A., with the 
advice of Dr. P., has antedated the vacation one month, 
so that it will commence to-morrow. This measure 
also appeared eligible, as^ it will put us in possession 
of Mr. B.'s assistance a month sooner ; our next 
session commencing on the first Monday in September, 
instead of the first in October. The plan which was 
laid for my preaching six weeks on the way home, at 
Palgrave in Norfolk, and at VVisbeach, from which f 
know I should have derived so much pleasure, and which 
would have been so economical, must of course be 
laid aside. Nothing mortifies me so much as my not 
being able to preach with safety. Silence is imperiously 
imposed upon me for a considerable time. Surely 
there cannot be a heavier affliction to a Minister of the 



45 



Gospel. If, however, he be a true Minister, he will 
have learnt in whatsoever state he is, whether in a 
state of active usefulness, or of helpless inability, 
therewith to be content. The lesson is difficult, but 
by every Christian minister must be learnt. As it 
will be too much for me to undertake the journey home 
at once, I have determined to adopt the following 
plan 5 — ^The Mrs. H. are returning home on Tuesday, 
and with the advice of friends I have thought it best 
to come part of the way with them. The Way will 
be rather circuitous, but their company, conversation, 
and care, together with the opportunity of seeing two 
or three fresh counties, and an entirely new part of the 
country, will make ample compensation. We shall 
set oat on Tuesday, and proceed that day to Oxford : 
on Wednesday to Birmingham. On Thursday the 
Mrs. H. will go on to Shrewsbury, and I shall take 
coach to Manchester, where I expect to arrive about 
seven o'clock : I cannot be exact either in time or 
place, bnt intend to go to Mrs. J.*s, when I should 
rejoice to meet a friend from home ; perhaps two or 
three friends will meet me, and with their assistance, 
if I am not very much fatigued, I shall be able once 
more to arrive at home. I received last week the 
letters of J. and W. S., and one from my brother, 
which T will answer face to face. London, as you 
have heard, is in a state of fermentation, in conse- 
quence of the peace, and the Royal visitors. We had 
illuminations for three nights successively last week, 
which will be again repeated on the proclamation of 
peace : to-day there is a grand meeting of the friends 
to the abolition of the slave trade, to which Mr. A. 



46 



and my fellow stodents are gone j it is a great priva- 
tion to be deprired of all these fine scenes and glorious 
opportunities of improvement^ especially to be kept 
away from a meeting at which some of the best 
speakers in the kingdom will attend. But^ however, 
I anticipate a meeting which will give me still more 
pleasure than even this -, till then« with best respects 
and wishes to all relations and friends^ believe me to 
be yonr affectionate sou.' 



•I 



From a journal which Mr. Goodier kept at this 
periods we find him soon after at home, endeavouring 
by country air and exercise to recover from his pre- 
carious state of health. Though unable to devote 
himself as formerly to the acquisition of knowledge, 
he resumed with alacrity those benevolent pursuits so 
congenial to his natural disposition, and his hours 
were again devoted to the instruction of the ignorant, 
and the improvement of those around him. He has 
left an account in his diary of his journey from London, 
which shows the liveliness of his observation on the 
scenes he passed through, and his desire to take 
advantage of every opportunity of gaining information. 
He travelled as far as Birmingham with the Mrs. 
Hughes's } ladies, to whom he was now first introduced, 
and from whose kindness and friendship he derived 
much future benefit and pleasure. With one of them, 
who has distinguished herself by many valuable and 
useful publications, he commenced a correspondence 
which continued to the time of his death. In his 
journey he passed through Oxford, where he was ex- 
tremely interested and delighted with the examination 



47 

of the colleges and the principal pablic boildings. 
At BirmiDgham he remained a day or two with his 
friends, to rest and to examine the town. They went 
to see the pnbltc library instituted by Dr. Priestly, 
and were much gratified jto find it in a flourlsfafng con- 
dition. ''I was happy'* says he '' to hear that it is 
conducted with much more liberality than formerly, 
and that Dissenters are allowed to take their share in 
th.e management.** They then went to view the 
Unitarian meeting, which feit the effects of the riots 
in 179\, and was afterwards re-built by gorernment. 
Mr. G. says, " It is large and convenient 5 in the vestry 
there is a bust of Dr. Priestly, and in the meeting 
there is another at the foot of a marble tablet, erected 
at the expense of the congregation in memory of their 
former pastor. The inscription was drawn up by 
Dr. Parr.*' On the way they passed a house which 
had been burnt in the time of the disturbances. Mr. G. 
remarks " Part of it is still standing, a sad monument 
of religious bigotry, blended with political animosity, 
and its owner is determined it shall stand as a moni- 
tory warning to the inhabitants. On beholding such 
ruins, many ideas, both pleasant and unpleasant, 
naturally arose, and I could not but rejoice, that now 
we need not bear witness to what we believe to be 
truth, at the expense of houses and lands, home and 
country ; but that liberty, civil and religious, is almost 
proverbial.'* On the evening of this day, Mr. G. had 
the pleasure of being introduced to Dr. Toulmin, 
whose talents and character are so well known to the 
religious world : he has recorded this interview in his 
diary* — ** His age is about seventy-five, but notwith- 



48 



standing thiSj bU spirits are animatedj and his actirity 
almost andiminished : his heart beats high for the 
interests of mankind^ and his exertions are never 
wanting for the promotion of pure and nndeiiled 
Christianity : with snch a character^ old age is honor- 
able, and grey hairs are a crown of glory. May the 
sight of such men warm me with a holy zeal to 
imitate their conduct and emnlate their exertions.*'-^ 
After another walk through the tovm, in the evenings 
Mr; O. and his friends returned to the house of Mr. K. 
a gentleman from whom they received every friendly 
attention. After supper he prayed with the family^ 
fmd he 'adds, ^' After wishing a kind and affectionate 
fttrewell to my dear companions (the Mrs. H/s) 1 re« 
tired to rest, looking forward with eager anxiety to 
thie meeting with my friends the following ev^ing.'* 

Mr. Goodier*s journey to Manchester was an agrees 
able, one, and he observed the face of the country he 
pitssed through) now adorned with the rich livery of 
summer, with his usuid vivacity and int^est. After 
mentioning several towns, and the general appearance 
of the surrounding country, he adds, '' The seat of the 
Marquis of Stafford is exceedingly beautiful, sur- 
rounded by oak woods, which are planted upon rising 
ground, and being clothed with the most luxurious 
foliage, are truly delightful/' 

. After all his observations, however, and the pleasure 
he had received, he very naturally concludes, ^* But I 
was most engaged with thoughts about home, and 
meeting with friends on my arrival.** In this hope Mr; 
Goodier experienced a temporary disappointment ^ he 
had appointed a house in Maochester for his friends 



i9 

firom the country to meet Lim at^ and when he arrived 
there, with eager expectation of a cordial greetings he 
found that no one had beentQ inquire for him. Perhaps 
there are few things more painful or disheartening, 
than after a long journey to miss our friends, at the 
very moment when we anticipate with delight the 
pleasure of -meeting them. Mr. Goodier says» " My 
disappointment was great ; howeyer, after resting my- 
self, I set out with my portmanteau in my hand and 
my top*ceat on^ towards Newton Heath, I was fatigued^ 
with my ride, and much afraid of the night air^ and 
consequently was anxious to meet somebody whom l> 
knew ) but my anxiety was to no purpose, and I caine* 
the whole way from Manchester without seeing a single 
face that I was sure I had ever seen before 3 I walked 
slowly on, scarcely able to drag myself forward 5 my 
fatigue increased, my spirits fluttered, when, as the 
clock struck ten, I approached the door of B. A.— - 
I involuntarily uttered a prayer for support in the 
scene which was about to take place, and with a trem- 
bling hand I knocked 3 1 heard a person spring up and 
hastily approach, as if expecting my arrival, and im*- 
mediately the door was opened by W. S. 3 he uttered 
an expression of joyous surprise, which brought out 
the family -, the sight of them all at once brought such . 
a multiplicity of ideas into my mind, and agitated n^e^ 
so much, that I was unable to speak ; I dropped my 
umbrdla and portmanteau, held out my hand, and then, 
sunk down on the seat in the porch, and relieved my-ii 
self by bursting into tears of joy." When we reniem* 
ber that Mr. Goodier was returning home after being 
separated from his friends for the first time iu his life ^ 



50 



that his feelings, always lively and affectionate^ were 
rendered more sosceptible at present by the weak state 
of bis health, and by his previons disappointment, this 
agitation will not seem any proof of morbid sensibility. 
His friends surrounded him and led him into the house, 
and> tired as he was, he sat up conversing with them 
until three o'clock in the morning, having '' To hear 
and ask a variety of questions.** After devoting a short 
time to calling on his different relations and acquain- 
tances, Mr. Goodier determined to resume his studies, 
but he found the weakness and pain of his chest so 
much increased by sitting long together, that he was 
obliged to submit to frequent interruptions, and some- 
times to abstain from them entirely. 

A letter to one of his fellow students, written about 
this timci gives. an account of his journey home, and 
his proceedings afterwards. 

** ffoUinwood, June 30^ 4^4 J^, 

''Dear Friend, 

" It is now almost six days since I 
arrived in Lancashire, so that I have violated my en- 
gagement at least a day j believe me when I say, that 
since I came home I have had so many questions tp ask 
and to answer, that I have scarcely had time to do any 
thing. In sitting down to write to you, after an 
absence of a fortnight^ after a journey of two hundred 
miles, and a meeting with friends whom I had not 
seen for fourteen months, I scarcely know where to 
begin or what to say, and I feel in its full extent the 
disadvantage of writing compared with oral communi- 
c ation 5 however, I shall endeavour to give you a slight 



51 



sketcb of what has hitherto been most interesting to 
me, in what I have seen, heard, Qr done ; believing 
that what has been pleasing to me will not altogether 
be aninteresting to you. We took leave of each other, 
as you know, early on Saturday morning, and you 
will excuse me for saying, that when I considered in 
what health and spirits, and with what prospects of 
usefulness you were departing, and reflected on^ny 
own weakness and inability to do good, so much dif- 
ferent to what I had previously anticipated, sorrow 
entered my breast, and tears of regret flowed from my 
eyes* Such is the weakness of our faith, and such 
our distrust of the providence of God, that if clouds 
intercept our prospect^ or thorns arise in our path, 
we make ourselves unhappy, and murmur against the 
dispensations of Infinite Wisdom. On Sunday I ven- 
tured to meeting, and stayed till evening 5 I was 
anxious to do this, because it was the last opportunity 
I could have for some months.^' 

Mr. Goodier here gives a repetition of the account 
of his journey, nearly as before related, — and thus 
continues-"-'^ Saturday was spent in seeing friends and 
going home — Sunday being lecture day, I had a whole 
and busy day at the meeting — taught the Sunday 
scholars morning and afternoon, and heard Mr. Jones 
preach three times. Monday morning the conference 
for young people Was held at our house, at which I 
pi'esided : otr question Was, ' Dd the Scriptures re- 
present Jesus Christ as &n object of Divine worship?*' 
I was very much pleased, as you mifty suppose, to meet 
all the young people of our congregation once more, 
and especially by hearing how much the speakers were 

£ 



52 



improved. J. S. t was delighted with^ he spoke 
extempore twice^ with great deliberation and torce ; 
he is altogether very mnch improved ; I have been 
teaching him Latin to-day^ and he has read the Gospel 
of John^ began £atropias> gone through the iSyntax of 
Valpy*8 Grammar, and advanced as far as the twenty-* 
fifth in Phsedms's Fables 5 he seems to understand the 
grammatical construction of the language very well, 
and is indefatigable in acquiring the knowledge of 
words. We intend to return together, Deo voiente, 
at the end of the vacation, and t can assure you J. will 
be a great acquisition to our society. I find Unitarian - 
ism in a prosperous state in our neighbourhood. Our 
conference was crowded 3 and besides this, the young 
people of the several congregations around Manchester 
have a quarterly conference, for the discussion of doc- 
trinal questions, which is very well attended. The 
Oldham Unitarians continue to increase both in num- 
ber and zeal 5 their congregation on Sunday afternoon 
was overflowing* On Monday evening I ventured to 
speak about twelve or fourteen minutes, and on Tues- 
day went to Manchester : by this exertion I have 
rather injured myself; but on the whole, am 
much, better than when we parted. Still I cannot 
flatter myself with preaching for many weeks, and my 
friends will not permit me to study much, so that I 
am likely to have a great deal of leisure. Tell me 
how you spend your time. With kind wishes for your 
improvement and happiness, I remain your faithful 
friend," &c. 

That Mr. Goodier might sufler as little as possible 
from the exertion of teaching Latin to the friend whom 



5S 



he menttpusi in this letter, tbey often went through 
the lessons in the open m, occasionally walking about. 
He attended again at the religious conferences, formerly 
mentioned, where he spoke as usual, and he performed 
private prayer for the (amily, but for some time he 
did not venture to preach. As he found himself in- 
capacitated for serious application, he took advantage 
of the leisure he was compelled to give himself, to 
make some short excursions to his friends in the 
neighbourhood. He likewise took daily exercise in 
walking, and says in his dairy, that " by the enjoy- 
ment of fresh air, variety and beauty of scenery, and 
the conversation and company of friends, he was 
muqh improved in health.'* On a seqond visit which 
he made to an Unitarian meeting in the neighbourhood, 
he heard Mr. Brettall preach, which gave him great 
pleasure, and he says he scarcely ever spent a Sunday 
more agreeably. A short time after this, he went on 
August the 17th to a conversation-meeting at Bolton, 
which was very well attended, and where the question 
** Do the Scriptures represent Jesus Christ as an object 
of Divine worship?** was again discussed: the arguments 
on the Unitarian side were principally supported by 
Mr. Goodier and two of his friends ; and he adds, 
they had no opponents capable of doing justice to 
their argument, which made it less interesting than he 
expected. Some time after this meetioig, he was per- 
suaded to attend a larger one, composed chiefly of 
Methodiiits, where he was unfortunately placed in a 
very hot and crowded room ^ ^* I knew not what to do, 
lo ga in was dangerous in the lughest degree to health; 
to retreat would have been injurious to the cause of 



54 



truths which was likely to have no advocates but J. S. 
and myself. After a consultation with friends^ 1 at 
length agreed to go in^ with a determination to come 
out as soon as I became uncomfortably hot. Thus I 
was completely entrapped 3 when I got in, I was forced 
to stay, and the press was so great, that it would 
have been almost impracticable to have retreated. — 
A very spirited debate was accordingly kept up until 
late in the evening.*' Mr. Goodier adds^ " It was 
highly interesting to us ; and in it, according to the 
admission of our opponents themselves, we had much 
the advantage in temper.'* 

At this period he commenced his correspondence 
with the Mrs. H.'s, the ladies who had accompanied 
him from London, and to this intercourse he was after- 
wards indebted for a friendship which sincerely sym- 
pathized in his welfare, and endeavoured to alleviate 
his sufferings. The following letter will shew the 
nature of his occupations at home, and the deep 
interest he continued to feel in the promotion of 
religious knowledge, notwithstanding the precarious 
state of his health. 



"HoUinwood, July 25, 1814. 

'^ Dear Ladies , 

" Ever since I took leave of you at 
Birmingham, I have felt a desire to write to yon, 
which has lately been ripened into a determination by 
a letter from my respected tutor, informing me of 
your safe arrival at your rural and happy abode, your 
own present good health, and kind anxiety about 
mine. To relieve this anxiety, and also to do myself 



5S 

wft6 6d pteasiiig and ihittdcftiVe t6 iue * fkt&t lo ftMM*, 
\t the ofijjeet of iny prd^nt addreBU to jfifrii. • 

'* I itIJk hapiiy in bdng able to iiiy, that fitted I BaW 
yoii I ftfft mUdh imprbved in healthy and I bdicif6 am. 
dally improvlrig. Befofe I ckme home, I could scarcely 
imagine that my indisposition was so s^rions as the 
doctor secerned tb think, bat in the first week after my 
arrival, I was convinced that my symptoms were alarm- 
ing, and that the greatest care was absolutely nodes- ' 
sary. At Ddrham House, I had little or no occasion 
to try my Strength, having, as you know, tot some of 
the last we^ks done nothing that required much 
exertion, bttt When I arrived at home, I frequently 
took rather long walks in the fields — went to Hee 
Mends, had to ask and answer many questions, and en- 
dearonred besides to study daily ; the consequence was, 
that I soon became tired and almost exhausted, and I found 
it necessary to relax. During the last fortnight I have 
refrained from study, and almost from reading 3 I take 
three or four hours exercise daily, in the open air, and 
am often out much longer — ^now and then ride on 
borseback-^make short excursions in the country, and, 
in short, do every thing in my power to recover my 
wonted Vigour. By the blessing of a kind and indul- 
gent Providence, on the use of these means, my bodily 
strength is much increased, but although my breast 
does, I think, improve, yet it is still very far from 
being well 5 my voice is still hoarse, and- in t\Ai sultry 
weather I feel considerable oppression 5 however, I 
trust in the next siM weeks I shall be so far improved 
as to be prepared (in the words of Mr. A.) for an 

£3 



56 



wd&ft scholar's camiiaigii. I mentioned that on my 
return I expected to take with me one of my compa- 
nions, as a fellow student. The forms of admittance 
are now gone through, and he is actively engaged in 
preparing himself for his removal to Hackney. In 
addition to him, I have now the hope of taking two 
others, one on the foundation of the academy, the 
other on his own. If I succeed, and recover my health, 
we shall all go together j four students from Lanca- 
shire, together with a Lancashire tutor, (Mr. B.) will, 
I think, be pretty well. I find the interests of Unita- 
rianism here to be in a very jiourishing state. During 
my absence, the spirit of rational inquiry and of zealous 
exertion, which had been excited principally by the 
missionary labours of Mr. W. and the lectures of 
Mr. G., have been much more generally diffused than 
ever, and I think I may safely venture to say, that now, 
iu the different Unitarian congregations in and about 
Manchester, there are but few, even amongst the young, 
who are unable to give a reason for tU<» hope that is in 
them. One of the most pleasing effects of this spirit 
is, the establishment of a quarterly conversation meet- 
ing amongst the young people of several congregations 
around Manchester, to be held in rotation at their 
different chapels^ for the discussion of subjects con- 
nected with Theology. This meeting has already been 
carried on a year 5 it has excited the attention and 
provoked the opposition of the orthodox sects, and in 
consequence has drawn our young friends into discus- 
sion. If it be steadily conducted, I anticipate great 
advantages from it, not only in exciting and keeping 
up the spirit of free inquiry, but also in bringing the 



57 

nembert of the cof^pegationa connected with it into t 
more intimate acquaintance with each other } notwtth* 
standing the good already done« there is still much to 
do — the moral state of the villages around me u very 
dsplorabtey much worse^ I thinkj than before peace-^ 
dninkenness and swearing fill our streets, and I shall 
never think the triumphs of Unitarianismcomplete»tillit 
has not only corrected the 9eniimenU uf the religious 
world, but also impressed the hearts and reformed the 
pracHee of those who never felt the influence of religion. 
The harvest therefore is truly plenteous, and I may 
add, the labourers are few i indeed, when I compare 
the number of labourers with the extent of the work, 
and reflect on the satisfaction which must be felt by 
every diligent labourer, I must acknowledge, that were 
the message of Hezekiah sent to me, ' Set thine house 
in order ; for thou shalt die, and not live.* Though I 
should have no doubt but such a message would be in- 
tended by the all-wise Disposer of events, to remove 
me from the present to some other state of enjoyment 
and usefulness, yet I should feel reluctant and unhappy. 
1 ought not to conclude without making my most 
grateful acknowledgments for the kindness I experi* 
enced at your hands, during the whole of your visit, 
and especially during my journey to Birmingham. I 
hope you will oblige me with a letter as soon as you 
can conveniently. With best wishes for your health 
. and happiness, I remain your*s," &c. 

Mr. Goodier continued a few weeks longer in these 
occupations, enjoying the society of his family, assist-- 
ing in the improvement of his friends, and attending 



58 



the difihrettt religiout iiiMtitigi» Mill Ifaen r^ttnied to 
Hidmey ivith tbe yoani^ msD who fa«d b6«& hit Lttdii 
pvpil. Sdoo ftfber hU rdtnrn to the afeAdeny^ iil 
writing honte Mr» Goodier ftftyft^ ** With respect f6 
myself^ I am dhiLy improving in healthy afid Am e^^e** 
qfiieiitly In good spirits^ I take every ^sible puem" 
tion 3 read little^ speak little^ and go ont as mtich usi 
possible. I am still feeble^ and almost finable to do 
the work which unar4>idably falls upon me, in cOiise* 
quence of having our new tutor. Mf. Broadbent ii a 
most agreeable teacher^ and were I iti heallh, i sbotiid 
have almost eVery advantage fof mental iinpfovemefit. 
I cannot complain in the least; I am already touch 
better than I was^ and with the Divine blessing shall^ 
in due time« completely recover. Our Conferences 
began last nighty and I was not a little mortified to be 
foreed to absent myself.** In the same month in which 
the above lettei^ was written^ we find him continuing 
his correspondence with Mrs. H.^ and fully sensible of 
the advantage to be derived from an intercourse with 
intelligent and cultivated minds ; and^ above all^ enjoy- 
ing that friendly communion on religious subjects^ 
which formed one of the greatest pleasures of his life.* 
His piety was an affecti<«nate and social feelings not 
only exalting his own devotion to the great Giver of all 
good^ but expanding in the most benevolent interest 
foi^ the moral welfare of all his fellow creatures. To 
witness their virtues^ to admire their talents^ or vene- 
rate their worthy was to him a source of pure un mingled 
pleasure^ and this absence of selfishness contributed 
greatly to his improvement of all the circumstanees 
in whioh he was placed. He seized with gladness every 



59 

opportunity opened to him, by a kind Providence, of 
contributing to the labours of others 5 and in the fol- 
lowing letter he gives an account of the children's 
library at Dob-lane, to his friend Mrs. H., inclosing 
her the rnles of the institution at the same time. 

'' Durham House, October $6thy 4 §4 4. 

'' My Dear Mbs. H. 

*' I was exceedingly gratified with the 
receipt of yonr kind note, and have to thank you for 
pressing me to write to you as often as possible. 
To correspond with such persons as yourself I shall 
ever esteem an honour, as well as one of the greatest 
pleasures of my life. I have just been informed by 
Mr. A., that a parcel will be sent from London for yon^ 
probably in the course of the day, and I gladly 
snatch a few moments from study, that I may if 
possible inclose a letter.*' [Mr.Goodier then expresses 
his gpratitude for some directions he had received from 
her relative to his health, and declares his intention 
of conforming to them as much as his circum- 
stances would admit : he adds, that notwithsanding 
his cough and the weakness of his voice, he looks for- 
ward to being completely restored.] " By the Divine 
blessing upon my unremitting endeavours, I trust that 
this so much wished for event, will shortly take place. 
Whether the winter now fast approaching, will not 
disappoint my hopes, time alone can shew. The 
perusal of these rules will I hope give you pleasure. 
1 know not whether I am not blinded by partiality ^ 
but to myself, our library and rnles are by far the best 



60 



for cliildren I hare yet beard of ; Indeed^ I dow Vnow 
of uo similar institution. Wh^n the obvious advan- 
tages resulting from a cbiidj^en^s library^ well selected^ 
are considered, I cannot but think it surprising tbat 
they have not become general, of at least numerqus. 
Our collection is now much more extensive than it 
was when our catalc^es were printed 3 we have from 
fifty to sixty members, many of them poor children, 
who are thus, at the expense of one penny per month, 
furnished with a great variety of entertaining and 
instructive reading. I have no doubt but by thli 
means many an infant piiud has been rescued from 
bad impressions, and bad habits^ ai^d inspired with a 
love of reading gaod books. I shall never forget the 
many pleasant hours I have spent in reading these 
books, and shall always be thankful to tbat good 
Provideuce which, by so agreeable a meaus, kept me 
from the snares of evil company, and guided my infant 
steps in the paths of virtue. Could not you in somo 
future tracts (may they be numerous !) recoinmead 
something of thift nature to the attention md adop^ 
tion of your readers } I mierely give the hint. You 
are right in your conclusion, that with oar additional 
students we have an adcUtional tutor. The labours of 
Mr. A. are in some d^ree lessened, but are still too 
^eat, though he himself would be the last person to 
say or to think so. His happiaiess consists in his 
useful exertions. My paper is almost finished, and 
my studies are pressing; so that with every sentiment 
of respect towards yourself and sister, I must hasten 
to subscribe myself your's faithfully.** 



61 



At this period, and for some time preTions, Mr. 
Goodier . bad been exceedingly interested in a design 
ivhich had been 6>rmed to erect a chapel for Unitarian 
worship at Oldham, in Lancashire ; he received a letter 
from one of his friends, requesting him to insert an 
account of their intention in the Mbnthly Repository, 
and from the statement he received of the probable 
expense, be found they had estimated the sum at 
a£400, instead of 8S250, as they had at first intended, 
and thns had increased the difficulties of obtaining the 
subscription. At the present time they had only raised 
£\50, and Mr* 6., in a letter, dated April, 1815, 
requests an explanation of their intentions ; he advises 
tbera by all means to adhere to their original plan, 
and especially as they had made their first design pub- 
lic, and already requested subscriptions ; he evidently 
considered the alteration an imprudent experiment, 
and he disliked the idea of appearing to encroach on 
the favour of the public. "Does it not in some 
measnre, lead" says he ''to the idea that you rise in 
your expectations in proportion as your applications 
prove successful V Mr. G. had informed Mr. A. of 
the first design, and adds, " I must own that it rather 
mortified me to inform him of the vast advance you 
have made in your plan. He seems decidedly of 
opinion that you will never get the money raised, and 
certainly it seems very improbable you ever can/* 
He then strongly advises them to -adhere to their 
original intention, and trust to future opportunities 
and contributions for enlarging the building. With 
the consideration not to wound the feelings of others, 
which peculiarly characterized him, in concluding, he 



62 



ULjn, *' YoD will receive what I have written in the 
spirit in which it is sent. I need not inform yon, that 
I have nothing in view bnt your best interest/* From 
a letter to his friends, dated about this time, we find 
him still suffering from a very uncertain state of health, 
and though not deprived of the power of pursuing his 
studies, yet obliged to watch over himself, and fully 
aware of the tendency of his complaints* His friend 
Mrs.H. appears to have been interesting herself in his 
recovery, and his gratitude for her kindness and atten- 
tion is warmly expressed. In the commencement of 
one of his letters to his friends, is a very pleasing 
description of a venerable old age. 

" Durham Hcuse, March 1, 1815. 

"Dear Friends, 

" As I am anxious again to enjoy the 
pleasure of receiving one of your letters, 1 am under 
the necessity of giving you first a few lines in order to 
place you in my debt. I wish you may be duly sensible 
of the disgrace of living long in debt, and determine 
to pay me as soon as possible. 

'* I have to congratulate Father A . on his having 
attained the age Of man. On his head, grey hairs 
are indeed a crown of glory, and if it please God to 
carry me through all the diflficulties and dangers, that 
lie between me and seventy years, I should prefer such a 
crown to all the glittering ornaments of rank and 
splendour, which often shine only to make the darkness 
of their possessor more visible. Many serious 
thoughts must have filled his breast on this occasion. 
Considering himself as having reached the point, at 



68 



i 

whkb the jdarney of life commonly terminates^ he would 
natnndly pause and look back on the way he has 
trarelled^ and forward on what may yet be before him ; 
and I doabt not that gratitude for the past, and hope> 
strong and firm, for the fnture, would sweeten his 
reflections and cheer his heart. I trust that though 
the years of man are but threescore years and ten, 
jet by reason of strength his will be fourscore years, 
and that at length, in a good old age, like a full shock 
of corn he will be gathered to his fathers, and sink to 
rest in peace. I have also to congratulate you send 
your mother on the approach of spring, which I am 
happy to hear has already begun to restore your 
mother to comparative health : at her age^ and 
with her tender constitution, it is a serious thing to 
endure the rigours of winter. Thank God ! that her 
frame, already shattered by sickness and bowed down 
by years, is still preserved safe, and likely to be 
strengthened by the mild influence of the returning 
spring. • I was surprised to hear that the winter has 
been rather - severe with you, with us it has scarcely 
deserved the name, the ground has scarcely been 
covered with snow, and the frost has only endured for 
two or three days together. The sun now begins to 
shine with cheerful warmth 3 the peas in our garden 
are raising their tender shoots above the ground ; the 
leaves of the Gooseberry trees are almost expanded, 
and to-day I observed a bee collecting his sweet food 
from a blooming bunch of crocus flowers. 

'' Ought I to congratulate John W. and his amiable 
partner on the birth of another child ? In these hard 
times is it a subject of congratulation llmt an addition 

F 



64 



has been made to bis family^ which was before almost 
too large } Yes ! I do believe that the birth of a child 
oaght eyen in these circumstances to lie considered a 
joyous event $ it may bring an increase of cares^ but 
I do think that he who permits his childreil to come 
into being will support them, and by the various dis- 
pensations of Providence) will open his hand and fill 
them with good. Let B, and J. then take courage — 
let them consider an increase of life, as an increase of 
happiness, and, under all their labours, let them look 
forward to the time when their children will be. the 
prop of their declining years. 

''M. T. it seems has had a narrow escape from 
robbery ; the frequency of robbery and murder is now 
most alarming, and will stamp the English character 
in the eyes of foreigners with infamy. I am glad to 
inform you that Miss M. has another tract ready for 
the press, entitled 'The Widow.* She is indefatigable 
in labours of usefulness and love. In the number of 
the Christian Reformer for February (No. 2) you will 
find the first of a course of lectures on the reformation, 
which I would recommend to your attention, and that 
of all our young people. I think I have not yet told 
you that we have another divinity student from Sheffield, 
his name is H., he is an excellent young man -, we 
are now five divinity, three lay students, and are going 
on very regularly, and very happily : with regard, to 
my own health, I am yet far from well, my voice is 
very bad, and my breast now and then troublesome. 
1 take great care of' myself, seldom go out at night, 
and as much as possible during the day. I have now 
no medical adviser except Mrs. H.j by her direction 



65 



I am almost daily or rather nightly drinking the juice 
of figs, which to say the least is very pleasant. Mrs. 
H. is exceedingly kind, and takes great interest in 
my recovery. What a debt of gratitude do I owe to 
tliat ^eat and good Being, who has thus raised for me 
such kind and generous friends ; and how happy am I 
in thas being blessed with the friendship of the wise 
and good ! *^ Give my love to all the children in J.'s 
family, and also to my dear friends at Dean Lane, 
especially to your annt. Tell M. and L. that we are 
anxiously expecting their notes to grow into letters of 
considerable length, and let me remind you again that 
yon are now in my debt, and that a letter from you 
will give the greatest pleasure to your's," &c. 

In a letter to his friends, dated soon after the pre- 
ceding one in April, 1815, Mr. Ooodier expresses the 
warm anxiety with which he looked forward to enter- 
ing upon the wide field of his Christian labours, the 
eagerness which he felt to devote all the powers of his 
heart and mind to the service of religion, and the best 
welfare of his fellow creatures. His benevolence and 
tenderness extended to all of human kind, and in 
comforting the distressed, instructing the ignorant, 
or reclaiming the erring, his feeling heart and affection- 
ate temper were exercised in their native element. 
''Yon have no doubt heard," he says, ''of the pro- 
lon^^ioa of my stay at the academy. It will be a 
great increase to my happiness, both at present and 
in foture, though I am disposed to lament that cause 
which made it necessary. ^ I look forward with ardent 
feelings to the time when I shall go forth into the 



66 



world, and I long to be actively engaged in the great 
business of taming the wicked from tii<B error of thdr 
ways. It is quite a privation to me, to b« kept for so 
long a period witUn the walls of the study, and to go 
so seldom into the pulpit } half my life will be spent 
be^Dre I begin to live. My happiest moments^" he 
afterwards continues^ ''have been spent in the pulpit, 
and I wish to repeat and to multiply them ; however 
the state of my health renders a further stay necessary, 
and I ought to rejoice that I can stay« I trust that 
when I have finished my studies, I shall be able to 
preach with boldness, with acceptance, and with 
usefulness/' Mr. Goodier then mentions his health, 
which he says is tolerable, but complains that bis 
voice is almost gone : he looked forward to the vacation 
as likely to restore him, but it seen)is that he doubted 
whether he should be strong enough to resume his 
usual country engagements, and he adds, ^'If I have to 
spend another summer in inactifvity, you will have to 
exert all your powers, in order to keep me irom being 
melancholy." About this time Mr. Goodier's father 
married again^ and he expresses the pleasiue he felt 
in this event, in a letter to t^e sisters of his new 
relative. ''Your mother will perhaps think that I a» 
interested when I speiik in this manner, and I must 
acknowledge that I amj for I cannot but rejoke in 
the increase oi my father's happiness, who certakily 
wanted a partner ; in the advantage my brothers vriU 
enjoy, andparticvlarly my brother S. from M's care and 
advice ; and besides thi«, I am glad that by this mar- 
riage I am more cloady connected with a family for 
whom I always have felt and hope ever to feel a» 



67 

affeGtion almost fraternal.*' Alluding to the loss they 
would feel in their sisters leaving them^ and the pain 
experienced in the separation of families^ he says 
''I am well aware that families who have been kept 
together as long as you have^ cannot, even in jurospecty 
regard their dispersion without pain. Parents espe- 
cially, who have grown old in rearing their children, 
and who in the society of their sons and their daugh- 
ters have begon to feel every domestic comfort, and to 
find the burthen of increasing years lightened, will 
naturally be anxious to continue at rest in the bosom 
of their families 5 though they may not, like Job, be 
robbed of their children by death, yet when they are 
left alone in consequence of marriages, and removals, 
they will feel something of that regret> and even an- 
gaish, which led him, in fond recollection of former 
days, to exclaim, ** Oh ! that I were as in months 
past, wheti my children were about me.*' We have 
heard that you are about to re-establish, at least in 
part, your conversation meetings. I wish you could 
carry them on with spirit, without which they will 
be useless. Yon are about also to begin to teach 
writing, and I should suppose arithmetic. This is a 
great improvement, and I should like to know the 
authors of it. Give the children the ability and the 
love of reading, writing, and arithmetic, and you fur- 
nish t;hcir minds with employment, and prepare tbein 
for being useful members of society.'* 

lu the following month was held ' The Anniversary 
of the Unitarian Fund Society/ and Mr. Goodier was 
much gratified by his attendance at the meeting.-^ 

f3 



68 



Inunediatdy afterwards he drew up a short acconiit of 
it, which was inserted in the Christian Reforiner for 
the same month. As it is a proof of the deep interest 
he took in the progress of Unitarian truth, which 
was then roaking» and the pleasure with which he 
witnessed the efforts and success of others^ the princi- 
pal part of it is here reprinted. 

'*May 20/A, 1815. 

'^ The tenth anniversary of this fund was held pur- 
suant to notice on the 1 7th inst., a day which will be 
long remembered by all who were present. As we 
doubt not that all our readers are much interested in 
the proceedings of this meeting, we shall^ for their 
gratification, ^ve as particular an account of it as our 
limits will admit. 

''The service was introduced by the Rev. T. B. 
Broad bent, of London, who prayed and read the 
Scriptures. The Rev. W. Turner, of Newcastle, 
offered the general prayer j .and the Rev. T. Madge, of 
Norwich, preached from Luke, vii. 22, ' To the poor 
the Gospel is preached.^ The sermon was distinguished 
by strength of argument and tlegance of language, 
and was delivered in such a manner as to fix the atten- 
tion and rouse the feelings of every hearer. Almost 
every eye was upon the preacher, and every heart 
seemed to beat in unison with his own. 1'he seniKin 
furnished a practical proof of an observation con- 
tained in it, that 'The host way to the heart \s frvm 
the heart.' We rejoice to add, that it will soon be 
laid before the public, accompanied by the devotional 
compositions Used on the occasion. Afterwards the 



69 

chair was taken for businessy and the secretary read 
the report of the committee, including an account of 
the various exertions of the society, and of the pro- 
gress of Unitarianism during the past year. This 
report was highly encouraging, and shewed that ike 
truth as it is in Jesus has been advancing, if not rapidly,- 
yet regularly and surely. The audience seemed paf- 
ticnlarly interested with an account \vhich it contained 
of the introduction and establishment of Unitarianism 
at Roseiidale, an extensive district in the north of 
Lancashire. Here is a congregation formerly in con- 
nexion with the Wesleyan Methodists, who have 
become Unitarians without reading any Unitarian 
book but the Bible, and even without knowing that 
there existed any persons of their own sentiments in 
the Christian world. They are almost entirely com- 
posed of mechanics, who earn their bread by the sweat 
of their brow» and in consequence of having built a 
chapel, are forced to solicit the assistance of their 
more opulent brethren. We expect that their case 
will shortly be submitted to the Unitarian public. 
We are glad to find that these peo])le, with their ad- 
ditional iiiiormation and more enlarged views, retain 
their former zeal, and act upon their former plans. 
They have united themselves with a congregation in 
Rochdale, a neighbouring town, who have become 
Unitarians uuder circumstances ahuotit similar to their 
own ; and from this town, as a centre, they have 
established an extensive circuit for local or itinerary 
preaching, and for class and prayer meetings. From 
a proacl'crs and prayer-leader's plan for 18)4, which 
now lies before us, we (ind that their circuit includes 



70 

no fewer than twelve places of meeting, which are 
supplied by three preachers, assisted by eight prayer- 
leaders. The preachers address their hearers without 
notes, and endeavour in all things, to adopt a popular 
manner, and to pursue popular plans. Whilst facts of 
tl^s nature exist, let it not be said that Unitarianism 
cannot become the religion of the poor. Hie exertions 
of Mr. W. furnished a considerable part of the report : 
it was stated that this indefatigable servant of Christ 
has travelled above eighteen hundred miles in the cause 
of the society » since the last report of his labours. 
After the conclusion of the business, the friends ad- 
journed to the London Tavern/- where a frug^ but 
comfortable dinner had been prepared for them. — 
About two hundred and eighty partook of it. James 
Young, Esq., of Hackney, was in the chair. Several 
appropriate toasts were given, which called forth a 
number of excellent speeches, all breaching the great- 
est anxiety for the promotion of liberty, civil and 
religious, and especially for the spread of Christian 
Truth. We were particularly pleased with the great 
satisfaction expressed by the company when the chair- 
man gave ' Peace.' If all the public meetings of men, 
calling themselves disciples of the Princ^ of Peace, 
would make a similar expression of their sentiments, 
and support it by pouring petitions into the houses 
of Parliament, war, with all its horrible consequences, 
might perhaps be still prevented. The secretary 
(Mr. Aspland) communicated some information which 
gave peculiar pleasure to the company : he stated that 
he was in possession of documents which proved that 
in Poland and Transylvania, Unitarians are aumerousj 



71 

and that most of the learned on the coutinentj and 
the Protestant ministers of Paris^ are Unitarians. He 
said that he had lately received a catechism printed 
at Geneva in 1814^ and naw publicly taught in all the 
chnrches of theGeneveile^and to his great astonishment 
he had found that this Calvinistic catechism was with- 
out CalTinisffl ! That from the yery place where John 
Calvin burnt Servetus for Unitarianismj was now put 
forth^ by authority, a catechism wherein not a word of 
the Trinity is mentioned j which says nothing of elec- 
tion and reprobation, and which contains nothing, with 
the exception of a few yagiie expressions^ capable of 
any interpretation, that a Unitarian parent would not 
wish to teach bis children* If the all-powerful hand 
of truth has already wrought such a charge, even in 
the place where Calvin laboured most, have we not the 
greatest encouragement to be zealous in its support ? 
and have we not the strongest assurance that in the 
end it must prevail ? 

'' The company were much struck with the strong 
sense and unaffected simplicity which marked the 
speech of Mr. Winder, one of the missionaries, who, 
as our readers perhaps know,^ was for many years a 
common soldier. He said that the last five years in 
which he had been a Unitarian, bad been the happiest 
of his life : that during this time, he had learnt that it 
was his duty to think as freely as he breathed, and to 
speak as freely as he thought. Alluding to the objec- 
tion that Unitarianism cannot be the religion of the 
poor^ he said that it needed but little ingenuity to 
understand the doctrines of the New Testament.— 
After a few other remarks he concloded by saying that 



72 

he had rather die a Unitarian missionary than live a 
Monarch. 

" The treasurer (Mr. Christie) gave a statement of 
the finances of the society, which shewed that they 
have been improving daring the last year* He also 
read a list of donations, and of the names of new 
subscribers, which had been received since the last 
anniversary. Among these were a donation of two 
pounds from ^ a Sailor ' of Portsmouth, and of one 
pound from * an anonymous' friend,' who stated in his 
letter to the treasurer, that he lamented that, through 
hard necessity, he conld be no more than a silent sup- 
porter of Unitarianism. In the course of the day 
above s£\70 was collected in donations and new sub- 
scriptions in behalf of the fund, and of the Unitarian 
academy. 

" At an early hour the company separated, and we 
doubt not they will each return to their respective 
homes, with increased zeal in the cause of Christian 
truth, and more steadfast and abounding in the work 
of the Lord, from the conviction produced by this 
meeting, that their labour is not in vain in the Lord. 
Let those who read this account go and do likewise.'* 

Mr. Goodier continued from this time, to the vacation 
in the summer of this year, still pursuing his studies 
and cultivating his literary talents with his usual 
assiduity. He paid constant attention also to the care of 
his health, which he would have considered it criminal 
to sacrifice even to the brightest expectations 5 but not- 
withstanding all his watchfulness, his complaint gained 
ground. . He could make no particular exertion with- 



IIS 

out being painfully reminded of his weakness ; and the 
kind advice ef his friends^ and his own precautions 
seemed equally unavailing in producing any permanent 
benefit. His hopes however were still vivid> and the 
ardour of his mind continued undiminished by the 
languor of disease. He still looked forward to the 
profession of the ministry with eager expectation, and 
endeavoured by every means in his power to render 
himself worthy of the discharge of its duties. His 
zeal in the cause of Christian truth increased with 
ev^ry added year of his life, and he continued to seize 
with avidity every opportunity which offered, either in 
public or private, for promotiQg the interests of know- 
ledge and virtue. His wishes were still doomed to 
disappointment ; and a letter which he sent to his 
parents to prepare them for his return, written in the 
beginning of June, gives a melancholy account of his 
health. Speaking of his return, ''This** he says, 
'' will undoubtedly surprise you very much, but my 
health is in such a statei as to make it absolutely neces- 
sary to give up all ideas of preaching in the vacation j 
I have for six or seven weeks been gradually declining 
and am now frequently troubled with pain.*' He then 

• • • 

gives a description of his symptoms, but afterwards 
adds, '' Let not this account alarm you 5 I am far from 
being as bad as I was last vacation, and the physician 
assures me that in about two years I shall thoroughly 
recover.*' Mr. G. in addition to his own conviction 
of the great imprudence, if not impracticability, of 
preaching in his present state of health, was visited 
the evening before he wrote this letter by a sub-com- 
mittee of gentlemen, who endeavoured by every means 



74 

in their power to deter him from the idea of public 
speaking, and almost forced him to promise he would 
not attempt it. After informing his father of the 
necessity of his return, he continues^ "My plan of 
coming home is the following:— I intend* if possible, 
to set ont June 20th, and ride to Boston* and there 
spend the night, and perhaps the succeeding day ; on 
Thursday morning 1 hope to proceed to Lincoln, where 
will be held a meeting of the Lincolnshire Unitarian 
society, at wlitch I expect to be present ; perhaps 
I shall spend the following day in Lincoln, and come 
on to Manchester on Saturday ) if this plan be altered 
I will inform you.** How mnch Mr. G. enjoyed th^ 
correspondence of his family, may be seen from a 
sentence in this letter. ''I have this morning received 
yonr's, and I con Id not satisfy myself till 1 had read it 
over three times* so overjoyed was I at receiving what 
I had so long anxiously desired.*' Mr. Goodier wrote 
again to his parents, when he arrived at Lincoln* on 
the 23rd of June. ''I have had a charming journey 
from Ltindon hitherto 5 J. S. and myself set off together 
on Monday evening, and arrived in Boston about four 
the next day. The following morning I came forward 
by packet to Lincoln, and in this ancient and venerable 
city, whose Minster is one of the finest specimens of 
Saxon and Gothic architecture now remaining* was 
yesterday held the first Unitarian association. We 
had a most happy day indeed 5 Mr. W. preached on 
Wednesday evenings Mr. K. yesterday morning* and 
Mr. W. last night." After the preaching they dined 
together, and Mr. G. says ; '* Really it was gratifying 
indeed, to see a number of persons* almost all strangers 



75 

to me, inspired with one hearty and one sonl, in sup- 
port of that canse, which is so dear to us all." Mr* 
G. experienced some little change for the better by his 
journey to Lincoln, and his hopes reyived with the 
elasticity natural to his temper, and his period of life. 
'<B& under no anxiety j*' he continues to his father, 
"I am in excellent hands, and in a very improving state 
of health 5 I am like a child of a year or two old, sub- 
ject to the greatest changes. When I last wrote, I was 
so unwell that for several days I could do scarcely 
any thing : now I am so well, that if I did not feel the 
want of a voice, I should think myself quite hearty.*' 
At the close of this session, before he left Hackney, 
he thought it advisable to take the advice of some 
eminent medical men on his complaints, and they 
decidedly recommended to him not to resume his place 
in the academy after the approaching vacation. He did 
not, as may be easily imagined, readily acquiesce in 
this decision 5 it disappointed his best wishes, and 
clouded his opening prospects y he left London in a 
state of uncertainty, which was very depressing, and 
still cherishing some hope of return, as appears from 
an expression in one of his subsequent letters. Soon 
after he came home, Mr. Goodier visited Rossendale' 
and, in a letter to Mrs. H., dated Aug. 1st, we find 
some further account of the Rossendale Unitarians : 
during his stay with them he appears to have been 
much pleased with the impression he received of their 
religious progress, and their evident desire of im- 
provement. ''Last week I spent three days in a visit 
to Rochdale and Rossendale Unitarians. The sim- 
plicity, good sense, seriousness, and piety, of these 

G 



M 



p9opl8> gvaftifiad m* very mmch^ and t»ugiittn#a ItMOA 
wkich I bope mever t» fergei. I Mm^ knew two ol 
iMr miaisters^ Jamea T. and Jbhn A., with them I hcwi 
a good deal of ooaveraation y the fdroMr is the yoang 
naa who ia mentioaod in Dr. T.'t lefttev> aa having, 
fromcoMcicndona motiyea^ refused to receive any thing 
ibr his preaching : he ia in pretty good circantttance». 
Hia father keqps a fami> and. condocts a wooUen, dyq- 
howse i at one or other of these J. eonstantly wof ks. The 
irat time I went to see hini> I foand hi«i working in ih^ 
dyehonse, which is. so hot tbstt the. workmeni aire 
obtiged to throw off their shirts. J,. T. Uvea nt^af 
Rochdale -, John A. at Ko^seadafe. In yonr letter to 
Mrs. A. yon speak of Rossendale a& being situated itk 
tihitjlat ol Lancashire > I found it very iB«cb the i evjeCMy 
it is an eatensive and populoaa district snr rounded by 
large and lofty hiils^ inter^^rsed with numeroos. and; 
tolerably fruitful vallies^ and broken at times, by 
crags and rocka. The hills ihemsebrea have few in- 
habitanta but sheep y the valleys are some of thea^ 
populous. The inhabitants of Rossendale are simple^ 
and unlettered in general^ but seem, to possess consider- 
able information on religious subjects. The Unitarian 
thapel is a small but very neat bqilding^ and the con- 
gregation is in a good state. J. A. is much b^oved 
amongst them« and ministers and people live on terjua 
of cordiality and friendship which ought to put many 
of our congregations to the blush.' I slept at J.*s house 
one night -, about nine o'clock when the sun bad setj 
and the people could not see to work> six or seven of 
them came to see and converse with their preacher j 
most of them were without hats and coats^ with their 



77 

mfHTOBB «wi dogs (« «0it ^ shoes witk wooden sotes) 
9my «Bd 4Mie of them was ^wekiog his pipe.* Thtf 
w«re all serieos^ s&d engaged in religioM e(mvwm,» 
tioii wklL great readness. Religion with them is an 
9Mtr of the heart and Mfe^ not merely as with many, 
a spttcidativB inqoiry. I wish some of onr cold and 
refined P^esbyteriaws (as they are «rroneoosly calivd) 
haA heen with me that oight. { wish also to havn had 
the cmpany of lihose who have douhted, or aififected to 
dondit^ whether Unitarianisa couM be brought to d weU 
la the huaible «»ttafes «f indnstiioos poverty/* Mr. 
6. then expresses his wish that Mrs. H. had been 
with then^ and amongst tliem^ and informs her that 
he told them of her liberality towards than» for which 
they desined tiieir hearty thaahs, and were fiiliy e«isi« 
ble of her Idadness* He cootinses-- ^'The R^rmer " 
is lead and admired by them, as it is also in the <iBs- 
trifl; roaiid about o«ir own home. I encouraged J. to 
write for it, and I hope he will, thongh at present he 
ts Tery busy with his trade, his preaching, and hU 
vmtiag. He has began to prepare an account of the^ 
rise and progress of Unitarianism amongst the society- 
at Ro8«endale and Rochdale.'* Mr. Qoodier*s aocoant 
of the state of his health at this time, was by no 
mteans enconraging, thongh he did not himself appear 
to consider it as decidedly daagerons. On his retarn 
to Lanotshire he gave himself for a short time complete 
reta^tion ; and says to Mrs. H. — ''Since I arrived at 
home, I have been busily engaged in doing almost 
nothing: I preach none, I stmly and write ecareeiy 
any ; I have made the parsait of health my prindpal, 
and I may say, my only object, but I have met with 



78 

little success ; perhaps I have used wrong means. At 
present I do not feel mncb of actual pain, but I labour 
under a general weakness of body, which unfits me 
for much exertion j I am troubled with a cough some- 
times, which rather alarms me. My indisposition of 
body brings on a heayiness and dullness of mind» 
which is very irksome, and an inclination to lowness 
of spirits, which requires all my Christianity, and all the 
kindness of . my companions and friends to counteract.'* 
Mr. Ooodier however expresses his conviction that he 
was not so bad as he had been the preceding year ; his 
Physician recommended him to take a sea voyage, 
which he told Mr. 6. he thought would completely 
restore him, but he had himself no hope of a speedy re- 
storation to health. Alluding to his Physician's advice, 
he says,— * 'If my expectations were as sanguine to his^ 
I should strive to carry his recommendation into prac- 
tice ^ but if I ever recover at all, I do not think it will 
be for some years." The following passage exhibits 
the quick sensibility with which he felt the privation 
of the exerdse of his accustomed powers of usefulness, 
chastened by that spirit of resignation and piety which 
taught him to extract good, even from the darkest 
dispensations of Providence, and made affliction itself 
a source of increasing virtues and trust, ^'l had 
hoped that the country would have been highly benefi- 
cial, but I cannot say that I am much better than whea 
I left London. I feel the deprivation of health more 
keenly here, perhaps, than I did at Durham-house, 
because there is so large a field of usefulness, and such 
a prospect of success around me. If I were able I 
could be fully engaged in preaching and conversation- 



79 

meetings in the neighbonring villages. We want 
preachers for the poor^ and I flatter myself that I could 
be useful amongst them. I am aware> however^ that 
we are apt to entertain too high an idea of our own 
labours^ and to attach too much importance to them -, 
and if there was need of me in the vineyard of the 
Lord^ I shauld be fitted for the work. Some of the 
happiest moments of my life have been spent in the 
labours connected with the Christian ministry, and I 
am anxious to resume and cont^inue these labours. 
But if the all- wise Disposer of events, in whose hands 
our breath is, and 'whose are all our ways,* ordains' 
otherwise, I shall strive to resign m^elf. I am fully 
persuaded that His appointments are wisest, and justest^ 
and best -, and tliat under HU fatherly government we 
are all safe. As a Christian, and especially as an 
Unitarian Christian, I trust I shall never be long un- 
liappy. Could 1 attain to that firm conviction of the 
Divine goodness in all his dealings with men, which 
animates your breast, and breathes in all your writings 
and conversation, I should rejoice and be happy indeed.'* 
When Mr. Goodier returned home, he found the 
building of the Unitarian chapel at Oldham already 
commenced, though their funds were very inadequate j 
and in the course of the autumn be visited Liverpool, 
and endeavoured to raise a subscription for the purpose. 
This visit, and the object for which he made it, were 
the means of introducing him to the kind notice of 
Mr. and Mrs. F., a family distinguished for their 
benevolence and hospitality, as well as for their warm 
interest in the cause of Christian trntb. On a further 
acquaintance with his character, they formed for him 

o3 



ii MeiHMiip aM affeclion tt^idi clbntitfned thretrgh dl 
the «ce1i68 of bis fotarelife^'aiieL'^oDltrtbtited mat^riall^ 
^6 ^thls 'M]ptibrt tod dotefort iof its ktest bbnts. A 
■letter "Wliichlie trrote during lira stay to his fri^Cd 
Mrs.lf.^ trfn best unfold his pliatis^ and th^ gteat 
Interest he took in the object of bis risit. 

**^S«ieeacire, near Lttf€tptol, Stptembier, 4, tftl5. 

'' DuAR Mws. H. 

" Since I received your kind letter of the 
^Sth ultimo, I have been so busily employed, and so 
Uncertain when my employment would cease and give 
Ine leisure to visit yon, that I have been forced un- 
MvilKngly to defer Writing to you till the present. I adi 
dure that you will forgive this seeming inattention, wTien 
I tell you that I have been busy soliciting subscriptions 
for our new Unitarian chapel, at Oldham. The buildin|^ 
of the chapel had commenced when I Came homie, and 
had advanced as far as the subscriptions would allow 
of, when I begun the trade of begging. The urgency 
of the case, the building being almost stopped, and the 
importance of the object in view, both conspired in 
inducing me to undertake the ungracious office in which 
I have been since engaged ; notwithstanding the 
labour and fatigue which was necessarily attached to 
it, and for which my state of health rendered me 
almost unfit. Thanks to the good Providence of my 
gracious Father, I have hitherto been supported, and 
through the instrumentality of kind friends have been 
kept in tolerable health ; while at the safne time my 
heart hais been gladdened by the success with which 
my feeble exertions have been crowned. In the course 



«1 

of t'he^a^ Motith t Wve collect^ci ttp^al^ds oY ^!00, 
%ear si^O 6t ^htcb'b&s been dubs'c^ib^'d by MeddB in 
Liverpool iHfi'i the laeighbourhood. Upwards of ^106 
ifl's^ill ^autiDg, which I doufbt nbt \vill be rahed \h a 
kw i^eAs. Altekdy I begin to anticipate the pteasnre 
of aicco^pltdhin'g an objec't, 'wtiich, fot 6otoe months ban 
l^^n nearesft my hearty whel) a convenient place of 
wori^hip will be ejected at Oldham^ sacred to pnrcanii 
iTn'd^ed ficligioti ; and when a popiilatioti of near 
seventeeh tfhonsand sonls will have an opportunity olf 
ireatkig the tmcorrtrpted Wotd of Life. It is i^Careel^ 
thrle^ years sinc^e I had the honout of preaching thb 
first sertnon.to the society at Oldham^ which Wsd aUo 
the first sermon I ever preached. Knowing this^ yoti 
will be able to enter into my feelings in the prospect 
of soon finishing our chapel. The dpening of it will 
be -a 'great day, and I doubt not a very joyful otae. 1 
wish you could %e present and partake of our joy. — 
This tttonAng about eleven o*clock I hope to set sail 
for Dublin, in conformity to the advice of ofiy Physician, 
Who strongly recommends a voyage, and seems to ex 
pecft greait benefit from it. Mr. S., Minister of this 
iflace, has kindly recommended me to the care of an 
Irish gentleman who is also sailing this morning -, and 
I iiope to get a letter of introduction to the ministers, 
kt Eustace Street, Dublin. A new scene is about to 
open upon tne, and 1 shall soon see the wonders of the 
Creator upon the mighty waters. I feel no feat -, for 
by sea or by land there is the same Almighty Governor 
to direct, and the same all-gracioas Pt-ovidence to 
preserve. 

*' ^inds i wtote l&st, 1 hrave received two letters 



" » ■■' WIP^W^*i^Wi^^^iW^^^W^»Pi^l— iWP—iBP 



Si 



horn Mr. A.) one of these was on the suliject of my 
return to Hackney. I had previously informed him 
that the state of my health rendered my return at 
least very doubtful^ and that it was the advice of my 
Physician^ and most of my friends^ to stay at home. 
His kind answer to this I will shew you when I come 
to Shrewsbury ; at present it is sufficient to inform 
you, that I shall, at all events, stay in the country till 
the winter sets in. On my return from Dublin I shall stay 
a few days at Liverpool ; I shall then proceed to War- 
rington, &c., then home, and afterwards I hope to 
visit you at Hanwood. Perhaps three weeks or a 
month will intervene before I have the pleasure of see- 
ing you. 

'' Accept my thanks for your letter, and especially 
for the former part of it, which is worthy of yourself, 
and worthy of that Evangelical religion which you 
profess. I wish I could imbibe the spirit of it, and 
act accordingly ; death would then be completely 
stripped of all his terrors. Allow me to hope for a 
continuance of your kind and edifying epistles, and 
believe me to be, with the best wishes for the welfare 
of yourself and every member of your family, your's/* &c. 

On his return from Ireland, Mr. Goodier pursued 
his former plans, and soon after paid a visit to his 
friends the Mrs. H. at Hanwood. In the kindness he 
there received, the rural quiet of the scenery, and 
above all, the amiable and intelligent society of the 
ladies, he enjoyed himself very much. The warm 
gratitude he felt for the affectionate interest they took 
in his welfare^ is expressed in a letter written to them 



89 



wben he bad reached his home. Perhaps no one ever 
received with more pleasure the attentions and sym*' 
pathies of friendship, or was more formed to improve 
its benefits, and certainly no one ever opened their 
heart more nnreservedly to all its best influences. 

His correspondence with his friend Mr. C. who was 
destined for the same profession, and a fellow-labonrer 
in the same great cause as himself, is extremely in** 
teresting, and shows a disinterestedness and benevo<^ 
lence of spirit, a sympathy with the joys and happier 
prospects of otherii, which is truly amiable. 

*' Shrewthay^ Dectmher 4, 1815. 

"My Dear Friend, 

^' It is now near six months since I 
took leave of yon, and though you have witnessed a 
variety of scenes, and been engaged in a variety of 
business during this time^ that would have furnished 
matter for many interesting letters, you have not 
thought it worth while to write me a single line. 
When I reflect on the many happy hours we have spent 
together, mutually assisting each other in the acquire- 
ment of knowledge, and as I then thought uniting 
ourselves by the closest ties of friendship, 1 am a 
little surprised that the privation of so long a separa- 
tion should not have been lessened by an interchange 
of friendly epistles. Say not that this is as much my 
fault as your's. Consider that I knew not where you 
were, whilst you were well aware that I was confined 
at or near home, principally by sickness. 

" Whilst I have been thus laid aside from public 
duty, and been forced to bear, rather than to do, the 



84 



Will of my hearenly Fatber, jov, my dear friend, liaTe 
been actiyely and therefore pleasantly engaged in yonr 
master's business. I have often followed yon with my 
wishes and prayers ; and by the arrival of the last 
Repository I find that my wishes have in some measure 
been realised, and my prayers answered in and by 
your success. What an exquisUe gratification must it 
have been to yonr benevolent and ardent mind, to hare 
Accompanied the apostolic W., to have witnessed and 
shared in his labours, and especially to have heard 
him, with^primitive simplicity and ^zeal, explaining to 
the rude fishermen of Cornwall the doctrine of salva- 
tion ; vindicating that doctrine from the corruptions of 
men, and ascribing righteousness, and mercy, and lore, 
to tlM Maker and Father of all ! Will you excuse me, 
when I say that I envied you when I reikd itt tibe 
Repositofy "A journal of Messrs. C. and W's miBsion- 
ary tour in Cornwall V To have your name presented 
to the Unitarian public, coupled with that of Mr. W. 
is indeed a high honour. By this time you zre an 
experienced preacher, and no doubt find yourself at 
ease in the pulpit. Is it so } When you and I parted, 
I expected to enjoy the benefits of Hackney for at 
least two years longer. In the last letter I received 
from Mr. A. I am advised ^quietly to dismiss 
all thoughts of Hackney from my bosom.' To do this 
'quietly' is impossible, and it is hard to beiieve that 
these things are not against me ; still { have many 
blessings remaining, and trust I shall yet be useful and 
happy. My indisposition has comdnced me of one 
thing, vix. ' ihae I have many friends * Their kind 
labours of love have frequently relieved me from a 



load of low spirits and desponding Uiougbls. Wben 
I brood o^vor my losses, and contemplftle the dark sides 
of. tUiii|py» tkey are ready to divert my thoughts and 
present th« iasr prospects' of hope. The eup of afflic* 
tion, if miiigled with the sweets of friendship^ loses 
almost all that is bitter. Though 1 have generally 
been, nnable to preach, yet i have uot been deprived 
of the D»eans of usefulness ; nay, fresh means of use* 
fulness have been put into my hands. I foMid my 
Oldham friends almost despairing of being able to 
finish their arduous undertaking. I engaged to solicit 
the assistance of their Unitarian brethren in Lanca* 
shiFe and Cheshire. I visited many congregations on 
their behalf, and for nine or .ten weeks together^ col- 
lected abouit ^20 a* week. By this means the chapel 
has been finished much sooner than was expected 3 
and on the 7th of January I hope to be present at 
the solemn scene of dedicating another temple to the 
worsliip of the One God, and Father gpf all^ who is 
above all, and in all. To be made the humble instru- 
ment of so much good to my poor friends- at Oldham, 
and through them to the neighbourhood at large^ gave 
me fpreat pleasure, which was much enhanced by the 
conviction, that at the same time I was increasing 
the number of my friends and acquaintance, promoting 
the recovery of my health, and receiving satisfactory 
proof, that the charge of coldness and want of zeal 
amongst the Lancashire Unitarians was in a great 
degree groundless. It is not a want of zeal so mnch 
as a want of union, that weakens the exertions, of 
Unitarians. 

" My spirit was refreshed (to use father W.*8 ex- 



86 



pression) by preaching three times at a neighbouring 
village^ in a farm-hoase kitchen^ to congregations 
serioas and attentive, bnt very ignorant. I hope some 
good was done amongst them. The clergyman was 
almost frightened ont of his wits, and it would amnse 
yon mnch to hear the conversations we have had ; hot 
my paper is filled, I wish I had taken folio. May the 
blessing of God attend yon, and give an increase to 
yonr labours. Write to me at Han wood soon 5 if you 
cannot in a week from this date, direct to me at home, 
Hollinwood.'* 

At this time, and indeed previously, Mr. Goodier 
had given up entirely any idea of returning to the 
academy, and he was now looking forward to the com- 
pletion of the Unitarian chapel at Oldham, as the 
scene of his future ministry, and the object of his 
fondest hopes. The kindness he had met with in his 
late visit to Liverpool does not pass unrecorded. It 
was to him the commencement of a friendship, which 
added materially to the happiness of his life. 

" ffoUinwood, December 29, 1815. 

*' Dear Madam, 

'* * Home is home be it ever so homely;* 
and at this quiet obscure retreat, where comfort and 
independence are almost constant residents, I am at 
length seated in our family arm chair, disposed to 
turn back my thoughts to the scenes that are just 
flitted before my eyes ', and by the creative power of 
reflection, to give a new existence to the pleasures of 
the last nine weeks. My mind fixes itself at Hanwood, 



87 

where it is determined for some time to remain^ contcious 
of having already found there peace and happiness. The 
remembrance of your kindness^ and that of your family; 
raises in me- feelings of gratitude; bnt at the same 
time pains me with the reflection, that my obligations 
to yoa are greater than I can probably ever discharge,' 
and such as to render me unable to thank yon as I 
ought. I was never eloquent in thanks^ and probably 
never shall be ; for; although I have visited Ireland^ 
where the meanest beggar pours forth a volley of 
blessings on receiving the most trifling gift of charity, 
I still labour under as much inability in this respect 
as ever. You, however, have lived long enough to 
learn, that the number of words is no standard of the 
sincerity of the thoughts, and that those who say most 
often feel least. Believe me, your goodness has made' 
a lasting impression on my heart — I trust iny conduct 
will best declare my gratitude. The eloquence of the life 
is far preferable to that of the lips.' I am led, by look- 
ing back on the last nine weeks, to extend my view, 
and to take in. the last three years. During that 
period what a change has been made in my situation 
and prospects ! My acquaintance was then v6ry 
limited^ my friends few, my means of improvement 
very contracted, and my time chiefly* occupied in 
labouring for the necessaries of life. I^ow, it is my 
business to improve myself and others. I have become 
acquainted with hundreds who were before strangers 
to me, and not a few, who are distinguished both by 
moral worth and the gifts of fortune, have conde- 
scended to honour me with their (riendiship. Amongst 

H 



8« 

ihese^ I rejom to indade yovrtelf and fiuiiOy.. Your 
fri^dship hM gLwea me new motiyei to yirtnoiit ezer- 
tioo^ and rated within me 9k freah barrier to the en* 
eroachmenta of vice* The hope of your Approbation 
will be a strong incentive to activity in the good 
cause of religion and truth ; the fear of ypur dlaplea- 
aure will deter me from giving way to evil thoughta 
and inclinations. Happy is it for us when our fnend- 
shipa are the allies of our virtue — when the loye and 
fear of man co-operates with the love and fear of 
God, in the improvement of our dispositions, and in 
the increase of our usefulness* 

''When I 1^ your friendly roof, I proceeded to 
Mr. W.'sj where I spent a most agreeable evening : 
every thing I saw and heard> confirmed ne in the 
good opinion I had previously formed of this family. 
If you remo\'e to . Shrewsbury, you will find them a 
valnable addition to your society. I am persuaded 
that the more you know, the more you will admire 
Mrs. W. The following day I proceeded, to Chester, 
and took dp my abode with Mr. L. Mr. B. the minis- 
ter, and M. J. &. drank tea with us in the afternoon, 
and we spent the evening in useful conversation. — 
Mr. B. is an -amiable young man, who loves his people 
and is beloved by them. As a preacher, he has the 
faults of almost all the York students -, too . confined 
in his manner — ^too abstruse in his matter. I preached 
for him in the morning, met him and a party to dinner, 
heard him in the afternoon, and met him again at 
sapper, o « a I came on to Liverpool the fol- 
lowing morning, and was induced by the pressing 



89 



BoUdtatioM of Mr. and Mrs. F.» to stay and preaek 
for Mr. Lewin on the following Sunday. I was afraid 
to address such a congregation } howeverj I ventnred^ 
laid had reason to he satisfied with my condnct. The 
friendship of Mr. and Mrs. F. seemed to increase 
every time they heard me preach ; they did every thing 
possible to render me happy in their house } repeat- 
edly requested me to prolong my stay ; at parting 
made me a handsome present, and invited me to spend 
a month with them after * the great day ' is over at 
Oldham. Would that I were worthy of such friends ! 
"We are all looking forward with .considerable 
anxiety to next Thursday. Mr* Grundy has engaged 
to preach on the occasion. Dr. Thomson has promised 
to be there, and if the day be favourable we shall 
have an interesting meeting. I know you will give us 
your prayers ; I wish you could present them person- 
ally. I shall feel gratified by a letter from you as sooii 
as convenient. To hear from yon gives me comfort 
when ill and dispirited, and encourages me when I am 
well. I wish in your next letter you would tell me 
every thing any of you saw amiss in me ^ whether in 
manners, disposition, or any thing else. That would 

indeed be friendship." 

» 

Shortly after the above letter was written, on the 
4th of January, 1816, the Unitarian place of worship 
at Oldham was opened; a joyful day for Mr. Goodier* 
Many of his friends from Liverpool and other places 
attended, and sympathized in the warm interest excited 
by the event. He published an account of it* in the 
' Monthly Repository', which, as it best describes his 
own feelings on the occasion, is here inserted. 



90 

A^cmmt of the op^hg of the New UnitarUm Ckapei, 

at Oldham^ Lancashitre. 

** On Thursday^ January 4th^ the new Unitariaii 
Chapel at Oldham was opened^ and solemnly dedicated 
to the public worship of Almighty God. At an early 
hour of the day> it was filled by a serioiia and atten- 
tive audience^ many of whom^ regardless of the in- 
clemencies of the season/ had come fifteen or twenty 
miles, and some further. * Every individual seemed to 
participate in the joy of the Oldham society^ at the 
accomplishment of their arduous undertaking.* And 
at the commencement of the religious services, when 
a hymn, suitable to the occasion, was read from the 
pulpit, the whole assembly joined to sing it;with such 
earnestness and spirit^ as evidently to shew that the 
heart was engaged. The Rev. W. Johns conducted the 
devotional exercises^ and the Rev. J. Grundy preached 
from Joshua, xxiv. 15. 'Choose you this day whom 
ye will serve,' &c. The deep and fixed attention with 
which this discourse was heard, was an involuntary 
tribute to the force of its arguments, and to the manly 
eloquence which characterized almost every part of it, 
as well as to the ability with which it was delivered. 

*' After the conclusion of the service, the ministers 
present and their friends adjourned to a neighbouring 
inn, and a large party, composed of sixty-three gen~ 
tlemen and twelve ladies^ partook of a cheap and 
economical dinner. The union of ladies with gentle- 
men at our religious associations, we -have twice wit- 
nessed with great pleasure in the midland counties, 
but this was the first instance of it in the north. Here 
the cold formalities of fashion have forbidden it> and 



91 

it has hitherto been thought inconsistent with decotUm. 
Those> however, who have been in the habit of attend- 
ing thiese associations, will need few arguments to 
convince them, not merely of the strict propriety, bnt 
also of the great utility of such an union. On these 
occasions, a rich mental feast is generally furnished by 
the speeches of the ministers and gentlemen present : 
Why should females be deprived of it? These ad- 
dresses are exceedingly useful in stirring up the company 
to zealous exertions in support of religious truth : 
will the zeal of females do nothing in the good cause ? 
Let their influence upon society in general, and 
especially upon the infant and youthful mind, be con- 
sidered, and every thing will be hailed as an auxiliary 
to human improvement and happiness, which tends to 
engage them in the cause of religion. 

'* Mr. Grundy was called upon to take the chair, 
and by his able manner of discharging its duties, he 
effectually kept up the interest of ''the meeting. He 
proposed a succession of appropriate sentiments and 
toasts, which gave rise to several spirited addresses ^ 
amongst these, we recollect the following: — 'Our 
Unitarian friends at Oldham j^ may their future con duct 
be consistent with their present professions.* ' Our 
friend Dr. Thorn son « who, though he has laid aside 
the robe of a minister, still retains the spirit of the 
profession.' ' Our persecuted brethren in the south 
of France.* * York college j together with its worthy 
treasurer, G. W. Wood, and the students present, who 
have been educated within its walls.* * Mr. Aspland, 
and the other tutor of the Unitarian academy ; may 
their labours in the education of ministers be crowned 

H a 



9« 

with mccam/ Id the eonrse of tbe afteraoon tin 
fbUowing gestlemea addressed the company : Messrs. 
Alkrd, BrowM^ Donoghue, Freme, Goodier, 
£. Grtondy> Hariison^ Johns, Parker, J. SmeUmrst, 
Thomson, Wood, and Wright, (of Stannington).— 
Seyeral of the speakers insisted npon the establish- 
ment of ao Unitarian congregation at Oldham, and 
the liberality which has been shewn in enabling them 
to build their chapel, as affording a demonstration of 
the fitness of Unitarian ism for the poor, and of the 
increasing zeal of the Unitarian body. 

''Dr. Thomson, .in adverting to a plan for umtiag 
the- Unitarian congregations of the northern coimtries, 
-which is now preparing by the Rev. G. Wdlbelo^ed, 
the Rev. W. Turner, of Newcastle upon- Tyne, and 
himself, observed, that he could not expect much good 
to result from the intended measure, unless the mem- 
bers of individual congregations were more closely 
connected : each congregation must move around its 
own axis, before it can revolve around a common centre. 
He went on to remark, that the necessity of such an 
union, is every day becoming more and more apparent, 
and is clearly shewn by the increasing calls that are 
now made on the liberality of the Unitarian public, 
from Oldham, Rosseudale, Greenock, Thorne, and 
Neath. Without something like a general co-operation 
it is impossible that -these calls should be properly 
answered. Individuals may, and do subscribe liberally, 
but insulated and unsupported exertions, can never 
furnish an adequate supply to the repeated demands 
^ow made. He therefore proposed that in every con- 
gregation, there should be formed %vhat he would call 



Kfelhwsktp iociety, for the purpose of raising a fundi 
to which the poorer members should be weekly or 
iiloDthly contri(>utors« and which should be intended 
to assist infant societies (now happily becoming nume- 
rous) in erecting chapels and carrying on public worship. 
It remains to be seen, whether the company will con- 
tent themselves with merely receiving this proposal 
with marks of approbation. At half-past six o'clock, 
the chapel was again filled with a respectable audience* 
and an evening service was conducted by the Rev. W. 
HarriaoD, and the Rev. R. Parker : from the words 
'Why even of yourselves judge ye not what is right?' 
the preacher delivered a spirited defence^ of the use 
of reason in matters of religion. Thus closed the 
services of the day> which will be long remembered by 
the society at Oldham, and which were peculiarly 
gratifying to all present. In connexion with the 
speeches delivered after, dinner, these services kindled 
a zeal> an enthusiasm in some breasts^ whioh will not 
soon be extinguished. 

''Before we close this account, we are requested by 
our friends at Oldham,' to express their grateful 
acknowledgments to those ministers, who so kindly 
undertook, and so ably performed, the religious ser- 
vices of this day. They wish also publicly to thank the 
ministers, who have interested themselves in their 
welfare^ since the formation of their society, and who, 
for upwards of two years, have gratuitously supplied 
them almost regularly with preaching. Their ac- 
knowledgments are also doe to those congregations 
who, by subscriptions! have afforded them the most 
effectual assistance, in time of need. The Christian 



94 

aflection, and Christian zeal, with whidi their wanta 
hare been supplied, have made a lasting impreasion 
Qpon their minds. They are desirous also, of solemnly 
expressing their gratitude to Almighty God, the author 
of all good, who has granted his blessing to their labours, 
and has put it into the hearts of their Christian 
brethren, to assist them in the accomplishment 
of an object, which has long called forth their ardent 
wishes and fervent prayers. They rejoice in the 
thought, that in a town containing, with the neighbour- 
hood, sixteen or seventeen thousand souls, they ha?e 
been enabled to erect a temple, sacred to the worship 
of the one God and Father of all. They exult in the 
prospect thus opened of dispensing the word of life, 
nncorrupted by human additions ; and of exposing the 
weakness of those doctrines which take away almost 
all gladness from the tidings of the Gospel, and, to the 
greater part of mankind, render them tidings of mbery 
and death. They trust that by this means, many 
sinners will be converted from the evil of their waya, 
and directed Heaven-ward ; and that hundreds will be 
delivered from a system, which prevents many of the 
finest feeling' of devotion and love towards Gml, by 
robbing him of his most glorious attributes -, which 
destroys many of the kindly charities and benevolent 
sympathies of the heart, by libelling the human cha- 
racter, and which cramps the faculties of the mind, 
by setting reason and revelation at variance, as well 
as by presenting to the humble enquirer after truth* 
the most glaring contradictions, clothed in the awful 
garb of divinity. May these hopes never be disap- 
pointed ! May peace and love dwell within the walls 



mmmmmgmammmi^ammm^mm 



95 

mi the house they have bailt ! May the ministers who 
shall there officiate be clothed with salvation ! . 
''And in the great decisive day^ 
When God the nations shall survey ; 
May it before the world appear^ 
That crowds were born to glory there.'* 

In a letter to Mrs. F., dated January the 29th^ Mr. 
Goodier informs her^ that the attendance at the chapel 
exceeded his expectations, and that the society had 
greatly increased. '* I preached there for the first 
time yesterday. The congregation was nearly^ if not 
altogether as large as on the day of opening*. I ad- 
dressed them on Ihe reasons for Unitarian dissent, 
and was highly gratified by the fixed and unchanging 
attention with which I was heard. Many Methodists, 
and some Calvinists were present -, and I trust that 
they will read their bibles with different eyes. After 
service, seven or eight sittings were let, and in the 
evening seven more. Near one hundred sittings are 
taken, and they are increasing every week, so that 
our prospects of success are promising. I need not 
say that this is very gratifying to me.'* It is impossi- 
ble to contemplate the bright hopes and cheering pro- 
spect of usefalness which Mr. Goodier at this period 
enjoyed, without deep feelings of regret, which are 
increased by the consideration of the sacrifice he un- 
consciously made of the only chance of his eventual 
recovery, by resuming the public duties of the 
ministry. From all his papers it is evident that he 
seldom preached without effort and pain, and that 
public speaking was decidedly injurious to him.-^ 



96 

Subject as he was to weiJoietfl of Toice» and otiier 
consumptive symptoms, there could be no exertion 
more decidedly dangerous to his health ; and the ardonr 
of hope with which he entered on his duties, unhappily 
only added to the risk he encountered* Had be been 
himself completely aware of it, even his dearest wishes 
would have been given up to the sense of duty, and 
however severe the trial might have been, he would 
certainly have relinquished the profession. Unfor- 
tunately he was led by the flattering feeling of his 
recovering strength, and the delusive nature of his 
complaint, to consider himself competent to the ex« 
ertion ; and bis friends fondly trusted that his antid- 
pations would be realized. It is too well known how 
mournfully these expectations were disappointed ; and 
it was, alas ! but too natural that it should be so. 
The public duties of a Christian minister, are certainly 
amongst the most arduous and fatiguing of any } for 
in addition to the effort of public speaking, to any one 
who is not strong, they are equally exhausting by the 
continual excitement of mind, the enthusiasm and 
deep interest felt on the subject, and the anxiety for 
the moral and spiritual welfare of others. Mr. Goodier 
had a tenderness of heart and conscience, which pecu- 
liarly exposed him to suffering from these latter causes, 
bad it not been counteracted by the remarkable cheer- 
fulness of his temper, and the natural elasticity of his 
spirits. At this time, Mr. Goodier considered his 
health tolerably good, but in almost every account he 
sends of it to his friends, it is apparent that it was 
liable to great variations. To Mrs. F. he says, '* I 
have bad one painful week since I saw you : I -went 



&7 

to^ Hnddeufield tlie SancUiy after tbe openliig, and 
caaght cold* The Sunday following, I preached a 
charity sermon for ovr Sunday-school at Dob-Iane, 
which brought on an acute pain in my breast, and a 
great difficulty of breathing. I then began to follow 
]>r. Thomson's directions, which are nearly the same 
as. yovr*s, and I soon recovered.** In the month 
of March, in this year, Mr. Goodier wrote to his 
friend Nfrs. H., with an account of all the proceedings 
at Oldham ^ this letter contains so much information, 
and is so interesting throughout, that, with the 
exception of one or two unimportant passages, it is 
presented entire. 

<' HoUhmood, March 7, 181 6. 

" Dear Madam, 

"After resol^ug and re-resolving, 
accusing and excusing myself, I at length sit down in 
good earnest to write to yon. It is often said that a 
letter should be written with all the freedom of familiar 
conversation. If this -rule must be followed in my 
conversation with you, I must always do as I have now 
done, provide a folio sheet ; for the longer my conver- 
sation is with you, the more pleasant will it be to me. 
Often do I reflect with feelings of pleasure and regret, 
npoi^ the conversations I enjoyed with you at your 
delightful, home. The faneies of poets concerning the 
happiness of a family circle, collected around a cheer- 
ful fire, on a cold winter*8 eve, were then realized ; 
which, by the way, reminds me that I ought not to 
call them Ihncies. These pleasures are gone > and, 
like many other pleasures and advantages; their at>- 



98 

•eiice mott foreibly conrinces me of their valiie. Your 
frieadfthip however will not leave me long, without 
some proof of your kindness j and notwithstanding what 
yon say about thanks, I must present yon my grateM 
acknowledgments, for the long and delightful letter 
vou have sent me» I allow that 'the debt of friend-- 
ship is mutual,* but unless the ability to discharge 
that debt were mutual also> I cannot allow the justness 
of the conclusion, that thanks are not requirable on 
either part. I devoured, rather than perused, the 
contents of your letter. I read it repeatedly, and 
could not be satisfied, till I had read the greater part 
of it to our family. I know not whether pride at 
having such a correspondent, or real friendship towards 
you, furnished the strongest motives to this conduct. 
Be this as it may, I had been uneasy for some time 
at not hearing from you, and this uneasiness will ever 
be produced by a similar cause i for after the many 
valuable letters I have received from you, and the late 
intimate knowledge I have acquired of you, I cannot 
but consider any long interruption of our correspondence 
a serious misfortune. 1 do not think it at all strange 
that you should feel inclined to write to me on the 
4th of January* No skill in the doctrine of associ- 
ation of ideas is required, to see that a lady whose 
mind is ardently engaged in the cause of pure 
Christianity, would naturally direct her thoughts to %» 
building which exhibits one of its triumphs, at a time 
when that building was dedicated to its support. May 
I not also flatter . myself with the thought that your 
friendship for me would be some inducement to direct 
^our attention to Oldham^ in a moment to me so 



9d 

interesting and so joyoiM. Yon are right in soppos- 
iHg that at that time I was as bappy ^s ever I was in 
ttfy life : fot sevefral days preccfding Iconld think and 
tidk of nothing else, and for three nights together I 
dreamt abont it. Yon will bare seen an acconnt of 
the opening in the Repository • and from seeing Mr. F. 
mentioned as a speaker, yon wil! naturally suppose that 
oar dear friend Mrs. T,' was present ; she was labour- 
ing nnder a severe cold^ which she caught in coming ; 
but she was exceedingly pleased witlval] she heard and 
saw ; and in a letter I have since received, she ex- 
presses the highest satisfaction in the proceedings of 
the day. I am rather inclined to boast of being in 
sonie degree the cause of her', and severnl other ladies, 
receiving so great a treat. They had like to have dined 
in a separate room, where a cloth was laying for them, 
btit I prevailed upon them to alter their intention. 
One of my female friends who was present was so 
overjoyed when she looked around upon the company 
and listened to the speeches, that she could not refrain 
from tears, and she has since told me, that if ever 
sbe bad a foretaste of the happiness of Heaven, it was 
on that day. She regarded the company (she said) as 
a selection of the best Unitarians from the surround- 
ing country, possessed of one heart and one soul. 
Now I have introduced this good woman to your notice, 
i must mention a late instance of her spirit and zeal, in 
support of tJnitarianism, which leaves in the shade many 
of the exertions of our self-complacent sex. A young 
friend of her's is lately returned from the University 
of Glasgow, where he has been studying for the 
Ministry. He has found some pecuniary difficultiesj 

I 



100 



and rather than be burdensome to his firieods, he has 
roMgaed his sitaatioD* and for some months has been 
at home, preaching occasionally, and assisting a 
neighbonring minister in his school. Mrs. H. (my 
female friend) thought this a faronrable opportunity 
for establishing a Sunday CTening^ecture in the town^ 
which is very populous, and which contains no Uni* 
tarian chapel. A few young men, chiefly spinners, 
fell in with her proposal, and determined to do their 
best to support the plan. With this encouragement 
she fell to work, and in one week*s time she hired a 
room, got a bricklayer to repmr it, and to set up a 
stove, and a carpenter to make forms for it, and on the 
Sunday night following, it was filled by near three 
hundred attentiTO hearers ! The lecture is preached 
once a fortnight ; the attendance still keeps up, and 
I expect to have the pleasure of being the preacher on 
Sunday next. This 1 know will give yon the most 
heartfelt pleasure, but I must now mix it with a little 
alloy. The neighbouring Unitarian minister, of whose 
congregation Mrs. H. and the young men have always 
been active and useful members, instead of encourag- 
ing and assisting these laudable exertions, regards 
them as done in opposition to himself; and though he 
has been respectfully and earnestly solicited to preach 
in turn, he has given a peremptory refusal. This 
preacher is a young man. To return to Oldham. Our 
infant society continues to gmn strength^ and if it be 
well nursed, I have ho doubt of its future prosperity. 
Since the opening, the attendance has been very en- 
couraging, and still keeps up. * * * I am delighted 
every time I preach there, with the fixed and serious 



101 



attention of tlie congregation. Most of those who 
ji^ US are poor people^ but we have one or two 
fKDuHes of some property^ able and willing to receive 
and entertain the ministers who come to preach. A 
few weeks ago I was determined to know something 
of the people who have lately joined ns^ and I went 
to see six or seven families^ with whom I was previous- 
ly unacquainted. I found them composed chiefly of 
persons who for many years have been in the habit 
of altogether neglecting pnblic worship. They have 
been disgusted with popular Theology^ and popular 
preachers, and have therefore laid aside all religious 
profession, or rather have never gained any religious 
character* This I find to be the case with most of 
our converts } they are sensible and well disposed^ but 
no religion, except Unitarianism, would ever have done 
them good. In consequence of a total neglect of 
pnblic worship, they have not the devotional habits 
we should wish, and it will require some time to form 
them. There is a numerous body of such people in 
the neighbourhood of Oldham, some of whom have 
become Deists, by reading Paine's works ; so that on 
one hand, we have to contend with the bigotry of 
orthodoxy, and on the other, with unbelief and in- 
difference. However we gain ground } and such is my 
conviction of the efficacy of Scriptural Christianity, 
that I believe, and am confident, that we shall gain 
ground. The society are very urgent with me to 
engage myself as their minister, a request which places 
me in a difficult situation. The arduousness of the 
task would ill comport with my precarious state of 
health 3 and the smallness of the salary they would br* 



;1.<W 

able to raiacj ill soito the present .po»^ur^ of aflhira. 
On the other hand> there are several iudacements to 
my acceding to their request. By so doings I should 
be boildiog upon my own foundation. Their existence 
as a society, and mine as a Christian Minister besan 
together. They are strongly prejudiced in my favour ; 
and, however poor, will always be an affectionate, an^ 
many of them a pious people } twa of the members can 
assist in preachipg; and many of them^^ by conversing, 
are able to advance the cause. - I know their habits, 
have been accustomed to their mai^ners, and should be 
more likely perhaps, to be nspful than a stranger. 
My wants are very £ew, and will be ei^sily.. satisfied. 
I can live very cheaply at homtu and I am confident 
that by devoting myself to the service of the poor* I 
shall be laying up treasures in Heaven. Dr. Boerhaave 
used to say, that the poor were his most proiitabte 
patients, because God was their paymast^.. Tb^se 
oonsiderations incline me to accept their invitatiopi, 
reserving to myself the liberty of spending the next 
Spring and Summer in re-establishing my health.^! i 
wish you were near enough tp advise ifith on. tbi4 
subject, so important to me ^give me yoor best adijfie 
in a letter. You will infer from what I have said, t^at 
my hralth is improved j and so. it is, thanks, to a kind 
Providence whose blessing has . accompanied, and i 
trust will continue to accompany, the jneans made use 
of for my recovery. The means approved of .by Dr. 
Thompson have been of considerable service, and I 
continue to practice them . Preacliing is injnnous to me ; 
but I refrain from it as much as 1 can. . I am apt- to 
forget myself sometimes when in the pulpit, and on 



^(^^^^'■^^^"^i^^ip' 



9amMj laal rmB so pteated with my sntpect^ that I 
Bp^Jim too loud and too long, which brovght oa a pain 
in my breast. It has now left me, and my cough is 
8«M>a tronbleiOffle. I intend to visit Mr. F. towards 
Uie tttidiiMe of next moftth^ and as Stiitimet advances^ 
I mvty perhaps remove more southward. * ♦ • • 
What beaatifiil and osefhl papers Mrs. Gappe has 
lately given ns in the Repository; and ifitcfidnot 
look like flattery^ I should say the same of 'the last 
(^ad word) poor man's friend*. When I read snch 
papers, I am tempted to wish that writers like Mrs. H. 
and Mrs.' C. might live for ever ; and were it not that 
such a wish would be injurious to you, I should cer- 
tainly utter it ; but when Christians like you 'can stand 
a tip toe on the mountain top of human lifei look down 
with pleasure upon the valley they have passed, and 
sometimes stretch their wings in joyful hope of a happy 
flight into *eternity,' it were cruelty to bind them 
down ~to earth. The world's loss will be your great 
gain. I do not say this as a believer in that comfortless 
sleep of ages, of which you speak so resignedly $ but 
as convinced, that whether dead or alive, we are in the 
hands of our Father, in whose hands it shall be weil 
for the good. 

" Your reflections on the polite indifference of the 
■ congregation are forcible and just ; they are 
bat too applicable to our Unitarian brethren ; and I 
fear that even where indifference has given place t» 
zeal, it is too often a sectarian, rather than a 
Christian-— a speculative, rather than a practical, zeal. 
Axe not many of us too solicitous to dear the head to 
leave time for the improvement of the heart > I think 

l3 



1<M 

tbit it the rock 09 which we are ia deoger of ^jditiiBg. 
The high born hope«« and gloriont proapecta of the 
Chriatian are aeUom the topica of conversation amongst 
US i and we are so afraid of enthasiaaai and anperstition^ 
that we scarcely dare to be |4oas. U thece not a 
danger, of the Christian Reformer justifying these 
fears } I think it is becoming too controversial, and 
I wish you wonld give ns some of year practical^ I had 
like to hare said apoitoiic, papers. Mentioning the 
Christian Reformer reminds me of friend C* What a 
spirited and interesting conversation ! It breathes with 
real life. * * * . • * I sent the editor a 
dialogi^e upwards of a month ago^ but I am obliged to 
him for having k^t it back ; by the side of so much 
liveliness and animation, I should have been quite 
dull and uninteresting. What you say about my faults 
ouly convinces me that I am expfdtt a,t playing the 
hypocriite. l>ade is decliniug with i^s, and I hear sad 
accounts from the agricultural CQuntriea. I aui glad 
you stay at Hanwood. If you are well enough, let.iQe 
hear from you s^on, it not ouly pleases mej but does 
me g<i>od." 

la contemplating Mr. Goodier*s sftualion at 
this period, the disinterestedness of his character 
IB peculiarly apparent — cut off from the parsuit of hif 
studies^ and the completion of his education, by his 
unfortunate state of health, his thooghts might natu- 
rally have turned upon himself, and bis own future 
circumstances 5 but in the midst of languor, disi^pmat- 
ment and disease, his first cares and solicitudes, were 
still evidently for the improvement, the virtue^ and 



105 

• 

the mond interests of others. To gain a snbscrtptieii 
that Biiglit afford a place of worship for the diifosion 
<^piire and Scriptaral Christianity amongst his people, 
he had ronsed himself from the indulgence of needful 
relaxation, and submitted to toil, solicitation^ and 
trouble ; and having at length effected this object 
so near to his heart, he was now contemplating still 
finrther efforts in the same cause. With few induce- 
ments but the increased }>ower of doing good, and 
the benefits he might thus confer upon the poor, he 
was about to accept a situation which would necessa* 
rily expose him to new cares and anxieties, to many 
unavoidable exertions, and much responsibility and 
privation | he was fnUy aware of the high and arduous 
nntnre of the duties he was going to undertake, and 
particularly the toil attending the cultivation and 
improvement of many of the congregation, who, though 
aflfeelionate, were yet ignorant, and required a wntch- 
fulness unnecessary in the higher classes of society« 
All these objecti<ms Mr. G. weighed as light in the 
balance, when compared with the opportunity of sowing 
the seeds of knowledge and virtue. To reform the 
sinner, to comfort the miserable, to instruct the careless, 
and thns to be the means of turning many to righteous* 
ness, was to him the most delightlul of all tasks, and he 
welomned with gladness the prospects thus, held out to 
him of preachipg the Gospel to the poor. In becoming 
iAeir minister he endeavoured to become also their 
friend and brother > be visited them with affectionate 
interest— he participated in their pains and sorrows^^ 
he became their faithful adviser and comforter i these 
were pleasures, which alleviet^ the intermptions of 



106 

ridoi^tf J tad wfeidi krighteiMd bis lonely hdurs wkh 
the ligbt of benievoleiiee and joy. H^w mxtch be aliie 
o#ed to the conaoUitioiis of Chrietiaii fneadship is 
apparent in aH hb letters. In the condvsion of the 
month of Mardi, he wrote to fats friend Mrs. F. 

" Hommwood, March 24M, 1816. 

^'Mr Dsioi MAnAM> 

f' i am trttJy happy in saying that my 
health is gradaally and regularly improviDg, notwith- 
standuig the severe winter and unwholesome n-eather 
we have had; and -indeed if I had been iinwdi, the 
receipt' of a letter from yon, or from' any friend 
equally valned, would have been moire efficacions. than 
any medical prescription for my recovery. I do^nofe 
say this ^ith any intention of flattering yon^ bat witii 
the hope' that it may induce yon frequently to favour 
me with one of your friendly and affectionate epistles. 
Friendshrp is the balm of life^ uid absolately necessary 
for'itstrne enjoyment. What has been said /ler^^i^ . 
truly of matrimony, may be said without a perk^pa of 
true friendship, ' it donbles our joys and divides our 
sorrows.' Give me then, from time to time> a medicine 
in the forbi of a letter, and I shall soon be out of 
danger from the phyincian or apothecary. 

** I attribute my present improving state of healthy 
under the blessdng of Providence, to the constant use 
of the sponge, and to the careful and unceasing atten- 
tion of my mother-in-law. If all second mothers were 
like her^ step-mother would soon be a less odious term. 



^e .w«p4ber l^as .bojen. very ttnfavi^iinible;. atid oiy 
PF^^^ii^ ^ ^aietimeti been ii\|uri0U»s. but ft few days 
i|ii»ing^.lia^ como^ooly again set me to rights* . We 
coiU^ujie tQ; go on very well a^t Ok|luiin. It is true 
we do- iL9t;Worlq miracles.; The time is apt.yet isome* 
* when a aation shall be born in a day:' $% leasti» tliat 
natioa does not consii^t of the rud^ inhabitaats of 
pidham. Qoc.congrefatioos are ik^ quUefSft. large as 
at fisBt (this could not be expected)* \^t they .are. stiU 
very good^ both ,with regard to numbers and attention*} 
scarcely a vfe^ pas^ea without sittings being let^ and 
all who have taken .si^ingf attend very:r€^larly> and 
apparently very seriously. I have not preached, often 
at 01dhamj:bat have'exchanged with, the neighbouring 
ministers. They casL prewsh twice***-! liave ventured 
only oac^. Yesterdayj howeyer^ I preached twice. 
Weiiadtwo serfotts congregatious 5 in.the.aftenu>oii> 
chapel nearly filkd-r-in the eveniog thiaBer. I am now 
becoming better acquainted with our new members 1 
they, are mostly persotis .who have never had any 
religious connection before^ and seldom attended, 
public worship; They are men of good plain sense 1 
better read than poor people ia general^ and I think 
anxious for veligiofis riaiprovement. I talk to them 
very plainWj and they appear affetibiooate. From what 
they have seen of religion* as commonly professed and 
cominonly taught^ they had become indi£krent to it^ as 
only consisting of unreasonable opinions^ and unac- 
countable . feelings^ and they are : still jealous^ lest it 
should eacroach upon their reaaon. You need not be 
told that they have not the devotional habits and 
feelings we wish for* but I doubt not of their improve* 



108 



tMnt in tlus respect. I am now tpealdng only of the 
cimv0ris, as I call them } the original members are as 
pious and steady as any plain Christians [ ever knew. 
The Seatholders sent me an address last week soHcii- 
ing me to become their minister. The situation h 
certainly uninviting in a pecuniary view, but I think 
1 shall cast my lot with them for a year» reserving to 
myself at least three months in the Summer^ in which 
I intend to go in quest of health. « • « * 

''I wish you could get a suitable minister j pity 
that such an opportunity of adfancing religious truth 
should be neglected. I fear it will be long before you 
meet with a man in all respects suitable. You want 
an Aiplmid, a Grundy, or a Madge, I was much 
pleased with your account of J.'s sermon $ he is an 
estimable young man^ and I wish him every blessing 
with all my heart. I have heard nothing of him since, 
but I have no doubt of his doing well : pray give my 
best respects to his &mily. 

*' I have received my Greek Testament from Han* 
wood, accompanied with one of Mrs. Mary's best, 
^ause her longest, letters. It contained sii quarto 
pages closely written ^ and after being read three 
times over, was still * pleasant to the taste.* 

" I intend to visit Liyerpool towards the end of 
next month, and shall feel an attraction too strong to 
be resisted, drawing me to Great George Street.' 



i« 



In the ensuing month, April, 1816, Mr» Goodier 
recommenced his private journal, which had latterly 
experienced some interruption, and from these papers 
we find nhe nature of his engagements, and of Ms 



109 

literary porsaits during bis residence at bome. Tbe 
most interestii^ parts are extracted^ and some days 
presented entire^ as a specimen of tbe manner in 
wbich bis time was generally spent at tbis period. He 
was now engaged to tbe Oldham congregation for one 
year, 1816* Diary, t)eginning April 16. 

''Tnesday 16, — Rose at eight} after breakfast 
read tbe prefieioe to Dr. Priestley's Forms of Prayer 
for Unitarian Societies ; then read bis Forms of 
Baptism for Infants and Adnlts, and one of bis 
Forms for tbe Administration of tbe Lord's Snpper, 
Then read a prayer for tbe morning from tbe Exeter 
Collection^ and formed a resolution of reading and 
studying one, night and morning. Then read and 
studied my two first lectures on prayer. I feel tbe 
necessity of such reading as tbis» in order to form 
within me a devotional temper. Then wrote these 
remarks 5 and at a quarter before twelve, began to read 
Gerard's PMtoral Cure. Tbis is a very useful book 
for students, or young ministers. I intend to study it 
with great care. I read on tbe ' true nature of tbe 
dignity of the pastoral office,' and ' on a proper sense 
of its dig^ty.' * * - • * 

'M7tb. — ^Rose at a quarter-past eighty after breakfast 
prayed with the family, and then conversed till ten. 
Got to my sister's at eleven. * * Read Gerard till 
half-past twelve ; and again^ after weaving for half an 
hour, till two. First, on tbe difficulties of tbe pastoral 
office ; second, on tbe obligations arising from these 
difficulties. Then wrote diary— wrote for improvement 
till four 5 wove for Betty till five } went to see J. G. 
and stayed till three quarters past seven, during which 



110 



time we oonversed cm the diffcnlties of the times^ on 
ohapel afiairs, md read tke Leicester paper. Stored 
Latin till tliree-qanrter8*pa$t nine ) tben read Fanl's 
first Epistle to Timothy, and at faal^past ten went to 
bed. 

*^ Since I wrote my last diary, I have removed to 
Dnkinfield, where I have undertaken the edneatlon of 
the young A's. This has prevented my r^larity. ^ * 
On Snnday, lilst> 1 preached at Otdham ttay iirert ser- 
mon, as themmiiter, from 1st Sam. xii. 20-^24. Ifelt 
mnch in the delivery of the sermon, and 1 trust good 
impressions- were made. I entered into a -'variety of 
resoiations, which I hope to be able to p^fotm! On 
Moaday last came here, and am engaged foar hours a 
day in instruttion. Preached last Sunday on the 
establishment of a Sunday school, at Oldham, and 
was highly gratified afterwards by several persons 
voluntarily offering themselves as teachers } about 
fifteen were enrolled, and I trust the foundatibn was 
laid of a usefiil school. Oh ! that this day's work 
may hereafter bring forth a joyful harvest in the 
instruction of youth ! Yesterday was much fatigued, 
-~did little, but hope from this time to fall into a plan — 
perhaps this plan will do-— rise at six, till seven engage 
in devotional exercise and reading the Scriptures ; after, 
till breakfast, composition, and again till ten 5 school 
till twelifiej walk till half«past one, dinner; school 
till half-past four f reading practical divinity till half" 
past five ; Latin and Greek till eight 5 sundries till 
half-past ten, then go to bed. I will review this plan 
from time to time, making such alterations as may be 
necessary,** 



All 



Narrative of the expulsion of a. Mr. Cooke, mi 
RoMOBfble/\ by the IjAathodiatai^ithe JntjfMwtdf jrttieh 
to-MHit to {the fSM^iaokjRdlwmer^jiar Moy^tayd jMom 
time Aftevwank «nrole a oontinaatMii ol^it. 91e •eon 
:timmed his fifam, sRSth iOQoasioiMil 'itttetitvptaoat, 'Csr 
tfomotiiBe, jipstrootiDg Ht. A.'t^^WfOii, 4rl«dyin|^ 
SMmt^, MBidr witing aod tasiis^mg 4im' ypiMig'iinesds ; 
•wtbioso'of *9hom he^vetA Lalin in^'an e?«iiiiig. 

*" Iiay5tb<# — Half-past «ev«D, oonipoied two prayers, 
WiA -:ptepaced for pireachiiig ; moraii^ veiiy ^wet ; 
teaid Mr.^'A^ preach, and then weat totQldham on Mr. 
*WJm tiorse i oopM not thikik^niieh on the way y coa- 
^gmgation ithio :b«t ^isry attentive ; eennon oo 'the 
xFaAhciiy ^oharaeter-of OnofA \ Matt. xii. 2$ a^glonoos 
•object, which I wish to /eei as well as express--fif 
<jGod he a <Fkther, thcD are 'we safe/* 'Mr.Cr.was 
modi Mignedtwkhithis-servicei but he preaehedagain 
miihe^ evening. " The following ^norning, -May 6th;*' 
he says in his diary, '' much refreshed ; thanked God 
tfor^the blessing ^ofi sleep ^ wont to see J. Jt. who is 
^abont to publish a day's /work in the manner Of Robin- 
'«oaV<^wa8 plea8ed^witb him, and hope he. will prove 
jargreat ornament to onr caose^** Inthe aft^noon 
.Mr. 'Ooodier met ^ith a critique on Words worth^s 
t^cnrsion in the Eclectic Review, with which he^mw 
:Meeedingly -pleased, . and Ako with the '' beaati(\9l 
'^notations." ilttwas impossible that auy one so alive 
^lo^thebeaaties of nature asMr.Goodier could avoid 
•beif|g> delighted- with some of t^the origiual and finely 
ideseriptive passages of that poem. A few days after 
thishe went to -tiie village of Gladwiek to preach, to 

K 



112 



Ihe people^ and his aooowit pi diein is best described 
im bis own words. 

'' 9th.— Seven^ finished sennon abont half-past ten i 
school ; after dinner went to Gladwick^ in order to 
preach for the first time in that vnciTilized Tillage > 
about half-past sei^en begun the service 3 a large 
attentive audience^ motley in their appearance^ in 
their working dresses 3 endeavoured to convince them 
of. the danger of religious indifference, and the weak- 
,ness of the excuses tor it. I felt much in the 
delivery of the sermon^ and hope the Divine blessing 
will attend our exertions for the reformation of the 
village. May the introduction of religion in axatibnal 
Scriptural forms be abundantly successful^ and may 
I hereafter look back to the labours of this day with 
great satisfaction." 

A few days previous to this visits Mr. O. wrote to 
his friend Mrs. F.^ of Liverpool, and as his letter 
unfolds his plans for the Summer, some extracts may 
be iDteresting* 

*^ I felt gi^at pleasure at the receipt of your letter 
of the 30th March, as it was a proof of the kind 
concern you take in my Welfare. I was from home 
at the time your lietter arrived 3 and from the place 
where I was visiting I wrote to my Oldham friends, 
engaging to become their minister for one year. This 
you do not think a judicious step it seems, and perhaps 
it is not. I am ready to confess, that if Oldham 
could have been supplied, I would much rather have 
returned to my academical studies, had it been prac- 
ticable-^neitber of these things appeared practicable 
at the time. With regard to Oldham, several of the 



f 



lis 



ndghbourinf ministers were kind, and willing to presck 
occasionally $ but they could not hare done it regalar1y> 
and sddom oftener than once in tlie day. I was 
conyinfced that regular preaching was absolutely 
necessary for the prosperity of the coDgr^[ation« and 
also that if I did not become their minister, no one 
else would, on account of the smallness of the salary* 
I felt, and ever shall feel, a peculiar interest in that 
congregation, and I could not altogether refuse their 
pressing solicitations. 

<' I was further led to tlus step from the little proba* 
bility there was of my being able soon to resume my 
academical studies. When 1 left Hackney, I had it in 
my power to remain two or three years, but in the 
Autumn, when I found myself unable to return, I felt 
it my duty to resign my situation, for the benefit of 
some other yonngman whose health would enable him to 
improve it. I wrote to Mr. A. and to Mr. Belshain^ 
to that effect, and accordingly another student was 
admitted to supply the vacancy I had made. Mr. A. 
proposed to me, that in Autumn next I should go to 
Edinburgh, take charge of the Unitarian congregaCion 
there, and finish my studies. But though my health 
is much improved, and I hope regularly improving, I 
had no hope whatever of being able to discharge at 
once the duties of a pastor in a populous city, and^f 
a student in the University ; under these circumstAaoea 
it seemed impossible for me soon to possess the 
advantages of a regular education for the ministry, 
and I was induced to accept the invitation from Old- 
ham. I must struggle through life as well as I an^ 
able, half-educated. My happiness and usefulness will 



wmm 



^M 



114 

will mt «KjpMt iM i» idqRwe admnlafni^^ I mm* 
M{}l>yM« #r eiil tfe to acfiMtot ftw ttdeoke I n^pv 
{MMMtd. About tto Mwe tittle tliat I received tiw 
MfviUtiea A^oi CHAioii, Mr. A«pHind faml' •oe for m« 
AftMv ttie M« of Wiglif. «^ «- I htm rweryed tf9 m^wtf 
Cbe Hberfy of sfpewdliqf tlree moaf^ lAirro: in tHe 
Svttni^. I t%6ii^ tliift wottld! be setvictmblv fei* tlit 
#e-^tiMl«BMttt? df ttiy bcialtlr. • * The ftmft^ «l 
my tbree raontht' absence has led me to postpose my 
itttetided jontnef to literpool ; it miffft not bow take 
flBe6 beibre Wbititfotide. I hare left HoHiiHvood^ and 
liow Uto at Dvldflfteld, a fine airy ijn4 lealH^y rit«»- 
Hen. I enjoy several aceommodantoas wfaicb I eonM 
ii6e hai^ at liome, and am in duSif expectation of 
hAying tbe me of a borse^ so that i trost tbe apfMroitelw 
iftg* Sommer will restore me to heahb.*' A few days 
Afler hw vilit te Gladwick^ Mr. GoOdier preacbed at 
Roebdale^ and was pleased by tbe gtettt attention with 
whicb he was leiuhd^ and tbe kindn^ys^ of tbe peopte ; 
M tfA^ time be attlended eonrersatfon-meetiogs foi 
teligiotis diseuMio*^ 4^ on the foarte^iith of May waa 
pfesetit at one« on the subject of predestination. He 
il^as now tng^td in reading Manx's Michael is, and 
torok In^eat pleasure in tbe work ; but bts studies were 
l6rsereral d^ys interrupted by illness^ which oompdkd 
httt to allow himself sleep and rest. 

On the 13th of this months Mr, Ooodier sent a long 
letter to his friend Mr. i),, to whom he wrote with the 
alTectionate freedom he would hare used towards a 
brother^ and unfolded unreservedly his plant and his 



llff 



opisMttsj oa>tfai« a€0oiiit<lU8i]ifart ot^Ua cprret- 
poadwice may bj -soiBe ibe thovghl frntticoktiY 

<< ^W ^i^ W , Iffy. I?, ;816. 

"•Mt Dbar Frisnd AUD-BbOTBBBj 

'' Yon, will ere this haveiandedvtliRt J 
have i^aiD dettaained not to write to yoa 5 the date 
<^( yovr letter has for many weeks reproached me^ and 
I ean withstand it no longer. I. shall not fillvp a 
page with. an idle excnse for not writing; I am 
confident that your own narivalled good temper^ added 
to the conviction which I trost yon hare of my firm 
and unalterable friendship, will lead yon to believe that 
my delay has not proceeded from any indiflBerence to 
yonr welfare. No^ my friend, my nund. is often witii 
yon 5 it fondly recalls those happy days we have spent 
together, now vanished like a dream ; and I scarcely 
ever lie down on a Saturday night, without reflecting 
' C. is now meditating upon his sermon.* 

*' I have just been reading over yonr letter, and am 
gratified with the kind enquiries of my Kent and 
Sassex friends. There is no greater blessing on earth 
than virtaons iriendship ) and few pleasures so great 
as that of meeting friends whom we have not lately 
seen. I should rejoice to revisit the counties in which 
I experienced such kindness, especially if in company 
with Father W. 

'^ I am gratified with the numbers and temper of 
your congregation, and trust that a further acquaintance 
has not diminished your good opinion of them. I 
should like to hear you preach now. I doubt not bnt 

k3 



116 



yovpour tke G*sp^l into thetr ears in a maimer to 

wMch tbeir congregation hat not been accustomed. 

Tell me how you go on ; whether it is not difficult to 

find Tariety for the same people 5 whether you compose 

your sermons ; whether preaching and pfaying become 

easy ; whether yon have much time for study j whether 

your zeal and hopes for the spread of truth are still 

ardent as before ; whether you can keep up or increase 

jour classical knowledge ; whether you have lodging in 

a comfortable Ismily 5 and whether there is much chance 

of my being soon sent for to see you linked by the chains^ 

rather say the silken strings^ of matrimony. I could 

fill a sheet with questions^ which would require serend 

sheets to answer them, but to spare you and myself 

this trouble^ I say at once, that I wish you to tell me 

every thing about yourself which will be. interesting 

to me. We are all much gratified with your spirited 

dialogue; it is a r^ai dialogue, and not like the 

composition of a certain nameless friehd of your^s, 

inserted in the same work. I am very glad to find 

you so clear and scriptural in your ideas, and so forcible 

and perspicuous in your language. I am confident 

that I am neither flattering you, nor deceiving myself, 

when I indulge the hope that you will one day be a 

burning and a shining light ^ the more I am convinced 

of my own weakness, the more anxious am I that you 

and the other students of the academy may be strong 

and successful ^ it depends upon us whether the 

institution flourishes or not. Have you heard that Dr. 

M. is to take the charge of boarding and lodging the 

students, and that they are to live at Clapton ? The 

annual examination will soou be here, and I doubt no.t 



117 

that o«r friend* S. and H* are yery bnty :. may they 
aoqnit themselvet to their own and the satisfaction of 
their friends. The academy reminds me of the fond ; 
will you be at the anniversary } 

'' I am thankful to the Giver of good that I am now 
mnch better than when I wrote last -, I am able to 
study almost regnlarly> and I have scarcely been a 
week this year without preaching ) in the last five 
weeks I have preached twice a week. Yon no doubt 
read the account of our opening the new chapel at 
Oldham ; it is a day I shall never forget, I have since 
yielded to the solicitations of my Oldham friends, 
and have engaged to become their minister for one 
year. Our congregation has increased considerably 
since the opening, though it is not yet so large as 
yonr's. We do not increase rapidly, but I think 
regularly. There are great difficulties in establishing 
a new congregation, especially in such a place as 
Oldham, where there is on the one hand much igno- 
rance, infidelity, and wickedness, on the other, much 
bigotry and prejudice. Our society is almost wholly 
composed of poor, and consequently my salary is very 
small. Trade is so bad, and there is so much distress 
in the neighbourhood, that I do not expect much 
increase in salary, however we may increase in num- 
ber. We have a ground rent of s£6 per annum, and 
interest of money sS5, which is a considerable draw- 
back ; however, we are not discouraged. My wants 
are very few, and as yet easily supplied. We rely on 
the goodness of the cause and the blessing of God, 
and we confidently expect success. I have some men 
of sterling worth in the society-*-two of them will 



116 



tfames to'improre, tikis year^tvill'do tmieh tow«nh 
the ^-iinii establiilimeiit ^ of tlie 'Cong^gaHmi* L«st 
Tbnnday Dight I opened a ht^h room lor pFMCbtog 
}n ' a 'treighbonriiig' village, and Was ' mnch ^gratified 
idth t1ie*tiomberand«er{oi»iiMs^f thec6Bgieg«lloB> 
'About two^btmdred or upwards, were assembied; -aiid 
kbttvigb 'we do Hot expect a continoance of so large an 
%irdience> y^t we may reckon upon this preacbkig 
proving a pbwerful anxiliary to that on Sundays at 
the chap^i. We hope to 8op|Hy one or two other 
villages with week day evening lectores. We 
estkbtished a Sniiday school a fortnight ago, and, 
in short, we ara -- adopting every plan -which -is 
likely to ' insure our success. I am mow Mving 
with a^Mr. A., a very respectable and roost worthy 
man. V have undertaken the education of ihis two 
sons. • • • r have every accommodation I could 
wfsh ; a charming little study, a fine healthy situation, 
and I shall soon have the use of a horse. When t 
engaged to supply Oldham for a year, 1 reserved to 
myself the privilege of spending three months in the 
'Summer from home. — This I have promised to spend 
with a congregation at Newport, Isle of Wight. — I 
shall probably go about Whitsuntide, so that it is not 
unlikely I may be present at the Fund meeting. Shall 
I shake your hand there } I have great pleasure in 
finding that the Unitarian academy is becoming more 
popular in this neighbourhood. We are surrounded 
with Yorkists, a few of whom are still jealous. I have 
been twice called on at public meetings to defend my 
Alma Mater, and I .shall have the names of, I think 



im^ mumd. wttom a k m^ to- tnMmit ot- uHnfti tottk«« 
Do< Ml Mhm^ mif oVRmpht in Mfc wpftiuft 
. htt me luw frt» yeor beft«e WhiMiwIid^ 
My-bwtniMi>i Mnvb aft»»^ inqmre: nflter )Kmi». m^ ym 
•hMU iU b#^gWl toitear )Mat voioe ia>(NdkM pulpily 
Ai Bi^. i I agm b^k>b«t«pM^ t|M^B»prtiAca^il:Q{ 

jaa.um^ 9md mt.§xmptwA M»t I AoiU h4i»>iiiglMiQit 
ycMi tin lAi^r fleimmker ma^m yow pntyeoi, •$. I i)yj( 
y«iL ift miMr." Ok Mm mwMeatb of tfafa liKUMri^ 
Mr* 6e«dier «HM.uiMibl4 t^pfeaek more thes oftoftim 
the dftfi^ «t Oldbaoi, ou aeceeni of Ibe pM in likr 
Ou tiko 3601 he sayt^ "^Btgwu to^ €oeifN>to 
sermon on popdbir o^eoUon* to Uejteeimimni^ 
I Irvsfe will pfove a atdMeiie" On the 2Mh 
he UTote to Ur«. H.tHtkapartkidv 4«mpfeio»o( 
hie eeir rcaideBeQ*^1>tikiiifieM. 



" MaSf 39, 1816. 

" It seeme a long time tinoe I indniged 
myeelf in writing to yon, or wna ipratified wi|h the- 
receipt of a letter from yon. I hare )u&t been reading 
yonr last letter, and. iiud it dated March 26th. If I 
eonld send letters as quickly as I can VlMlspoit mysiell 
ia thoaght to Hanweod» iatermiaaions of our eonpes-r 
pondence like these weald never occor. I think myself 
fortunate in having sent my last letter to ep|»eirtane1y» 
and can aasnre yon that yoiir*s enme at a time which 
rendered it equally acceptable^ Ind^ yonr favo«ii 



IHO 



do not depend npon any contingendes of time or place 
for aooeptableness^ but the delight I always experienee 
in the pernsal of one of yonr letters, is sometimes 
heightened by the circumstances under which I reeeiye 
it. I had been on a Tisit for fiye or six days^ 
and on my return, my Father put into my hands a 
letter, enclosing a j£5 note for my friends at Oldham. 
When I had expressed my joy on their aoconnt, he 
proceeded to indulge me with pleasure peculiarly my 
own, by giring me a letter from our common and dear 
friend Mrs. F. $ and when 1 had feasted myself with 
this, in <Nrder to raise my delight to the highest pitch, 
he produced a letter from you. Will it not look tfelfish 
in me to say, that my gratification was greater in 
reading the two letters, interesting only to myself, 
than in receiving ^hat which would light up a smile of 
gratitude on the iace of every member of our congrega- 
tion ? Let me put the case more favorably to myself, by 
saying that the pleasure which each would have 
communicated independently of the rest, was much 
increased by their coming in connection. Mrs. F. has 
several times obliged me by writing since I visited 
Liverpool, and on Monday last I bad the pleasure of 
seeing her and Mr. F. in Man^chester ; by her I heard 
of you, and was sorry to be told that you are not 
going to. London, as I had been led to expect by a 
letter from Hackney. Mr. A. had given me reason 
to hope, that if I went to the meeting of the Unitarian 
fund, I should* see you. I hope this disappointment 
is not ominous.*' Mr. Goodier then mentions his 
settlement at Oldham *, the state of the congregation, 
and the hopes he had of diminishing the prejudices of 



W^^^Bi^HBHHB^SiHHP 



121 

the %own and QeigrfaboQrbood. He afterwards giT^ an 
account of the tcbool. '' We have lately established a 
Sunday school> which promises very well -, and had w« 
a few ladies to teach the girls^' we should soon have a 
good school. Our prop6rtion of; females is small, as 
many of our wives are also mothers of large litth 
families^ and some of them are rather more indifferent 
than their husbands. We' have several new married 
couples amongst ns, so that I have no doubt but the 
.fbuBdafdon of a good congregation is already laid; 
and shootd we not. gain a single addition, if we can 
retain what we have already^ and per8ua4e them to 
take care, of their children^ our succfB^s is certain. 
We have lately opened a room for preaching in a 
neighbouring village. I had a very good congregation 
there, and 1 hope it will prove a good auxiliary to 
Oldham. At present however I cannot say much about 
it, as it is still an experiment. 1 here is much prejudice, 
and ignorance, and bigotry^ and infidelity, and there- 
fore much wickedness in the place, so that we have 
very powerful motives for perseverance. I was a good 
deal shocked at the conduct of an aged woman on the 
evening of our opening, who stood before the room 
in which we preached, and just before my entering, 
said, or rather t^houted, ' Before I would go to hear 
Unitarians, 1 would go to the Devil.* On enquiry I 
found that she was one of the very few in the village 
who make a religious profession. In addition to 
Oldham, I ''have lately undertaken the education of two 
sons of a Mr. A., a respectable manufacturer, and a 
very worthy man in this place, which is about four 
miles frqm my Father's, and an equal distance from 



mi 

^Itbm. IMfMAeM 'is « fee aivy tHitaftloa «l ^He 
%K>t df file GlwAire Jims. I Hve la ^tlie im^ jcT 
Wr.1l.,^i%d lM«|>9^ee%fl^'tiMt>foifiiPb« pieiM^bl mpplf 
>&f lartik, Hud ^-^fw^- hw lilt<fty pwciiMed %» hon^, wiatk 
^8 tie tft itt^^M^rvice. ' rinvea ^iry coowBieiitaHi 
«ntfroMUe*«tiMy. ^A» TMn n^w skclifg, i^NitiB tifwm^ 
^(Mhr'it'tty i^t%ikiid'^i«b<glye8 Me « Mevi;^ tt&oA, 
'flMttUb ritHer-llottttdc^/k tevy beeiltlfol rini^M tea* 
ii^ottr gAi^€!ii,<iMI itotked-wicfa fmlt tnetf ••iriekiMnEd 
in '%e«ity*>*ila«iriMit ' jp^Mge'^mihryWd i»ltb Mwe— i, 
'KMIb ibebtek gfOttid a Aiie rmge «f liSls'iriMqp 
"iMlre )eidi '^bl^et^-^ good Imitriitko >4rf ^foor iWMi 

it 'DikhifieId4oage« the seat 'Of our ^^^i^^ ^iqiAre, 

"^0*^8 a gaod deal beloved by bis tenaiits^ add^^vtboite 

welllaid-dTit grounds 'furnisb many a^easant^widMbr 

me. 1*66 vtew on this side "ettends to Otdfaam^ 'the 

'int0lte ^risfngfrom which reitdiids^^ one ^qncntly nf the 

course of every week of my Sunday du4;ies. -SoiMNib 

for the ba^k of the house.— ^In ^front «we bave'ia ^nopf 

ett^nsive ])rospect of a ipopulous and dodwitrlovs 

iHistritt/lnduding several considerable towna. IfUs 

removal to Dokinfield will olyrilfte in some xtftaaove 

'the ^grand ^defect of Oldham^ ^ moist wil aad 

ieitmoiilphtt'e 5 one in<»>iivenienee sltU rendn»i^*I :jun 

^to</*fk/'f^oni my flOiSk, %x> that I eannot see4beBii ao 

otft6n as I woiild. 'On the 'Whele^'I have mnbb to'be 

thatillful for in my t^hange of situation : it is apkdge 

'lo me tb^t I 'have ^dotte right iin 'aoeeptiag <of th^ 

1i!Vitatioit'fh}m''0!dham?' "^ilr^ 6oodlerthenmentkMM 

the gre^&t ipieattrre wfibivhiicti lie was looking forwitfd 

to a Vtilt tKTbi^l^tends ^iVMkntj, and'to bei&g pro'^ 



'^ 



123 



tent at the Unitarian fund anniversary, and jokingly 
tells his friend, if she could be envious, he was sure 
she would envy him then. He afterwards gives an 
account of the very depressed state of trade, and a 
feeling description of the melancholy consequences it 
produced. ''Trade seems to be leaving us — failures 
occur every week — manufacturers have ceased to employ 
more than half their weavers in most places, and in 
all, they have reduced wages to little more than one 
half ', the consequent distress amongst the poor is 
very great, and weekly increasing. Every thing is 
dark and gloomy, and those who have not the support 
and comfort of religion must be wretched indeed ! 
One can scarcely go out without hearing complaints 
in our streets, and what will be the result, He only 
knows who sees the end from the beginning, who 
knows the best means of accomplishing every design, 
and who often brings good out of apparent evil, and 
marvellous light from gross darkness. One good effect 
^ill I trust be produced ; when the poor find their 
eartUy comforts snatched from them, they will be led 
to grasp with greater eagcFuess the unfading crown of 
righteousness. Should this be the happy result, they 
will one day bless the dispensation which they now 
deplore as too grievous to be borne.*' The above 
cited passage shews the Christian and resigned tem- 
per with which Mr. Goodier regarded all the events 
of life, and raised his mind beyond second causes to 
the Great Author of all. To him the afflictions of 
life did not spring up from the dust ; and equally, in 
his own and the misfortunes of others, it was his con- 
solation to look beyond the clouds of time, to the 

L 



124 



light and peace which they would eventually reveal. 
That all thingti were working together for good, was 
in "him a practical conviction which comforted his heart 
and inflaenced his conduct 5 and it was one, which in 
the moment of his bitterest trial did not desert him. 
It was one of the first objects of his life to gain a 
growing conformity to the will of God 5 and even the 
wish for a prolonged life of happiness and nsefalness 
on earth, was at last snbdued into perfect trust in the 
wisdom and goodness of every dispensation of his 
Father. Considering the long and variable sickness 
he endured, there is no quality more striking than hb 
constant cheerfulness, and the manner in which he 
bore np under his different changes and trials, miUdng 
the best of every situation, and receiving with grati- 
tudci every advantage. ' In teaching his pupils, pre- 
paring for his Sunday duties, enjoying the society of 
hi^ friends and attending on the poor, with his asnal 
religiou!! engagements, he past some- time longer at 
home, and in the beginning of June visited the Isle of 
Wight. He left Manchester oh the 3rd, and the 
following day arrived' in London, where he had ther 
pleasure <^ meeting hh friends at Hackney, and con- 
versing again with his former fellow -students. The 
nett morning he attended the meeting of the fund,' 
and intrbduced the service of |be day, by prayer and 
reading the Scriptures. During his stay he visited 
Kewgate> and went to see some of the convicts, and 
he afterwatds attended in court to hear some of the 
txials; as the. sessions were then open. From London 
he proceeded to Southampton, where he was hospitably 
received by a gentleman of his acquaintance, and ptat 



125 



tbe night. He set sail for Cowes in the Isle of Wight 
the next day^ the 8th of June^ where he arrived after 
a pleasant though rather boisterous voyage. He w^nt 
on to Newport^ where he met some friends and was 
Introduced to others. He mentions Newport in his 
jonrnal. as a fine, wealthy^ town^ and the ne^h- 
bonrhood as very beautiful. On the Sunday after his 
arrival, he preached twice to a respectable and; very 
attentive congregation. In the evenings he met a 
party, . consisting of a selection of yery intcUige^nt 
gentlemen and ladies. He expresses himself Jikely 
to he very happy, and he hopes very useful. His Sun- 
day past very pleasantly, and on the Monday he took 
'.'a beautiful excursion to Carisbrook castle, whicl^ is 
about a mile distance, and had a fine view from the 
rampart in front of it.** In the afternoon he visited 
the Lancfisterian school, which he found extrenp^ely 
well conducted, and removed in the evening to his own 
lodgings. Soon after his arrival, he read 'The Spiritual 
Quixote,' which he calls a '' very fascinating book.** 
Warner*s Military History of the Isle of Wight he 
also perused; and after arranging his books and plans, 
he recommenced the composition of sermons, and his 
usual theological studies 5. he began Paley's Horae 
Paulinas, and he read the Scriptures and commentaries 
on them, and prayers every morning. On the 12th of 
June he visited a seat in the neighbourhood^ called 
Mount Pleasant, which. he describes as a most delight- 
ful . mansion, commanding the roost beautiful views 
imaginable. In the afternoon, with a small party^^he 
visited the minister of the place, in a country house. 



1S6 

and expresses himself highly pleased with the fine 
prospects. He returned in the evenings and concluded 
the day^ as he always began it, with meditation and 
prayer. He often gave two hours a-day, at this time# 
to his Latin> and was reading VirgiPs Georgics. He 
composed prayers, and kept a vigilant watch over the 
employment of his time. As long as his health in 
any degree permitted active employment, he was by 
no means inclined to claim the indulgence due to 
an invalid, or at all to diminish his exertions. 
On the following Sunday he preached again twice 
in the day, and says in his diary, ''Felt consider- 
able liberty, and was heard with great attention. — 
I am sure I have done good this day. The Divine 
blessing, I trust, has attended my labours, and I will 
consider this day as an encouragement to future 
labours.'* Seon after his arrival he wrote to his 
Father, with a full account of his situation and 
proceedings. 

'*Deab Father, 

" You will have expected to hear from 
me ere now, but I was determined not to write till I 
had settled, and knew what kind of people I am 
amongst, and in what sort of place I am 3 in these 
particulars 1 am now pretty well informed, and I hasten 
to communicate this information to yon. First, as to 
the people — I am connected with a roost amiable and 
friendly congregation, with whom I am very happy j 
they are not numerous, but very respectable in every 
sense of the word. Several of them are very rich, but 



l«7 

have littk of that stiffness abaiit them which maay 
rich people have 3 they are affable and sociable, and 
seem desirous of making me quite happy. Mrs* J. C^, 
to whose house I came at firsts is quite a mother to me^ 
and Mr. C is equally kind ; a son of their's imitates 
their couducty and furnishes me with a good horse 
whenever I wish to ride> which I am incUaed to do now 
ahaost every day. Our chapel is scarcely as large as 
Doblane chapel 3 galleries at one end^ and furnished 
with a small organ. Newport is an ancient and very 
beaatifttl towB> its streets wide and clean> and its 
inhabitants orderly, and well-dressed 5 scarcely a 
ragged pexson ia to be met with, and every thing be- 
speaks comlbrt ; its neighbourhood affords the most 
enchanting prospects and delightful walks ; several of 
our congregation have houses in the country, a mile or 
a mile and a-half from town, and they are frequently 
forming parties to tea at these houses, which gives me 
an opportunity of enjoying at once the pleasures of 
rural scenery and of interesting conversation. You 
can form no idea of the richness of the foliage of the 
fine oak woods which hang by the sides of the hills, or 
ol the beautiful smoothness of the Downs, which rear 
their heads on every side. I scarcely ever walk out 
>«4thoat being enraptured with the fineness of the 
views, far exceeding almost any other I ever saw. I 
have not yet seen the southern part of the island, 
which is described as still more beautiful than this, 
but I expect we shall form a party soon for an excur- 
aion thitherward. It will give you some idea of the 
mildness of the climate, and fertility of the island, to 
teU you that the hay-harvest is just commencing, and 

l3 



128 



that I have this afternoon seen several strawberries 
almost ripe^ grown in the open air ; myrtles grow in 
abundance in the open air ; so do the Tines^ most of 
the cottages in this neighboorhood being half covered 
with them^ and privet is exceedingly common in the 
hedges, as well as two or three other shrubs, the 
names of which I do not know. I have great reason 
to regret my not having studied Botany more closely, 
I find several plants which are strangers to me, and I 
frequently wish you here for a few weeks. There is a 
fine old castle in the neighbourhood, on the walls of 
which maiden-hair, pelitory, and several lichens grow 
in abundance, and hart's-tongue is very plentiful in 
every ditch-back. The ophrys apifera (bee* orchis) 
is found in the fields round about the castle of Caris- 
brook, of which I will bring you a specimen, together 
with some other plants I am not acquainted with,* 
I intend also to collect for friend P. some geological 
specimens, many curious and beautiful ones being met 
with OH the shores. The healthiness and beauty of 
the situation attracts many people here who are in 
search of pleasure or health ^ and in the neighbourhood 
are the Abbary barracks, the officers of which live in 
the town. * ♦ * My health to-day is but indiffe- 
rent, owing to my riding too far and too fast yester- 
day. I rode about twelve miles, and feel rather unwell. 
♦ * On the whole, however, 1 am looking better, 
and as I am out two or three hours every day, 1 do not 
doubt but my visit will do me good and prepare me for 
the Winter's campaign, at Oldham. I am anxious to 
hear of. my people there, and wish you to say that I 



129 

remember tbem in my prayers daily^ and hope I am 
not forgotten by tbem. The poor people as I have 
before said, are in general much better off, I think, 
here, than in Lancashire, and many other counties. 
Some labourers are, however, without employ, and the 
times are considerably harder than usual. I feel great 
anxiety about you ; and it would add much to my 
happiness to be assured that times are mending with 
you, and that you are dwelling in peace and comfort 5 
this, however, is too much to expect. I frequently 
read in the* newspapers, dismal accounts of the suffer- 
ings of the poor in different counties, particularly 
Stafford, Salop, and Leicester^ and I am fully 
persuaded that we have much to suffer, before we 
again see 'good days.' This conviction casts a gloom 
over the charming scenery with which I am surrounded ; 
and did I not firmly believe that all things are under 
the direction of God, and therefore working together 
for goody the beauties which encompass me would be lost 
upon me. The comfort, and even plenty, which I daily 
witness would only pain me by reminding me of the 
great contrast to be found at home, and, in the midst 
of enjoyment, I should be joyless. Thank God for 
making me religious : thank God for making me an 
Unitarian!*' 

Mr. Goodier then inquires after one of his friends — 
" He has told you that we went into Newgate, and saw 
many of the poor wretches who are there confined. 
Tell him that the three men we left at the Bar of the 
Old Bailey were last Monday condemned to be hung. 
Three lives destroyed in payment of one poor pocket- 
book !*' The rest of the letter^ containing an account 



ISO 



of bit journsy from London to Sonthampton, it i« 
nnneeestnry to insert. Hit next letter to hit friend 
Mrr P. is dated the 1 0th of Angntt ;—" My long 
tilence will have led yon to tiippote I am not the beat 
keeper of a pramite in the world, bat when yon know 
the reaaea of it» yon wiil^ I thbk, allow that I have a 
tnfficieni eaeat^ i bnt the trath it, I durti not write, 
my health, kat been to contrary to what I expeeled, 
that I dared not give yon any acooant* of it. I have 
Ike vanity to think (for alter your kindnett how can 
I cbnbt it }) that yon and Mr. F. are intereated in my 
weHtre, tad tkat it woaki have been a disappointment 
to have beard that I waa worse than when in Laaea- 
tkire > tad I have to sincere a regard for yon that I 
thonld b» terry to comraanicate any tidingt which 
wonldg»veiya»paiB. Yon will infer from this that I 
am bettev, andi yon will infer rightly.*' Mr. Goodier 
then; mentatnet the improvement he had experienced 
owing to tiw advice of a skilful Phytieian, notwith- 
etanding tka wetnets of the weather, and his Sunday 
exer fottft. Hfti agaim expatiates en the del^ktfnl eo«ntry 
aromid him, wskh^ hm former auifliaiioe^. " The ftneat 
prospects meet me at every torning, and. as much of 
beiMi^ is oeUeeted as can be well crowded together. The 
scenery at the back of the island is far beyond the 
povrer of description. I might fill my letter with the 
strongest ^thets any vocabulary affords, such as 
delightful ! grand ! magnificent ! wonderful ! astonish- 
ing !; sublime ! and after all I should give yon but a&inl 
idea of the reality. You will not do justice to yourself 
or yous country, if yen do not per^nade Mr, F. to take 
a.tonr in-theSommer to this plaoe»" 



131 



•* So much for th« place, now for the people :— The 
coDgregation is small, consisting of not more than one 
hundred members, but amongst them there is scarcely 
a bad character, and many of them are exemplary 
Christians. They are mostly rich, but have nothing of 
hauteur^or stiffness abodt th£m 3 just tlie people for 
Mr. F., sociable and hospitable : I am as happy .with 
them as I can be -, several of the ladies are mother* to 
me, some of the gentlemen fathers 5 and had I a few 
more brothers and sisters, I should have almost every 
thing I wished. One of the congregation was formerly 
an Unitarian minister, and he is as kind in assisting 
me as if 1 were his own son. Our attendance at the 
chapel increases, and what pleases me most is, that 
.oar gallery fills ; the commonalty seem interested, and 
I think there is a good opening for an active minister, 
who has not laid aside the remembrance of his master, 
so much as to be ashamed of entering the cottages of 
the poor. If Oldham were not in the way, I should 
yield to the request of the people here, and settle with 
them for some time 5 as it is, 1 cannot think of it 3 and 
though 1 wish to spend the Autumn and Winter here, 
yet 1 am so uncertain about the supplies at Oldham, 
that I have told the congregation not to depend at all 
upon my stay, but to loolrout for another minister.*' 
Mr. G. then expresses his great anxiety for the settle- 
ment and prosperity of the Oldham congregation.— 
He again adverts to the distresses of the times : — 
" Trade I find is very flat, and the consequent distress 
very great throughout Lancashire ; I tremble for the 
result, but as dear Mrs. H. says, 'whether the impend- 
ing cloud bursts and discharges its contents upon our 



1S2 



lie^dt or not, they are most safe whose treasures are 
laid np in a better couutry.* *' 

On August the 12th, the day after the preceding 
letter was written, Mr. Goodier seat a letter to one 
of his friends at Oldham, to explain to them the 
present .delicate state of his health, and his fear of 
being unequal to his former situation. He also ex- 
presses his earnest desire to know how they are going 
^Uj and the state of their congregation. " 1 know 
not whether you will not think me indifferent to your 
welfsire, and that of the Oldham congregation, from 
my not having yet written to you ; bat if you do, you 
do me great wrong i I haye not ceased to think of you 
almost daily 5 and I am with you every Sunday. I am 
anxious to hear how you go on ; whether your supplies^ 
a,re regular j what sort of congregations you have ; 
.whether you are proceeding in the Unity of the spirit, 
determined to oppose the difficulties of the times, 
with all perseverance and patience 5 or whether you are 
dispirited, and whether the love of any to the cawff 
waxes cold. I wish to hear, yet I am almost afndd of 
hearing, for the prospect is so gloomy, and your pre-^ 
sent burdens so oppressive, that I tremble for the 
consjequences. I take up the newspaper every week, 
and read dreadful accounts of the state of things in 
Lancashire, Staffordshire, and other places, and what 
will be the result God only knows. Would that we 
could view all things as mercies in disguise, intended 
to wean our undue attachments to the world, and 
remind us that here we . have no continuing cityv-r 
lielieve my anxiety about yon, by taking the 4rst 
opportunity ot giving me a faithful and partknlar 



J 



133 



account of congregational affairs. I do not enqnire 
after particular individuals, for I wish to hear* of diti 
I wiiL it were 'in my power to give you a fttfourflble 
account of myself — to say tliat my health waS' miicll 
improTed> and that 1 was about to return to; yoli-Hlilitd 
strong and well, prepared for a Winter's campaign j 
but I cannot say this, I am living in h terrestrial 
paradise, where there is as much beauty as can well 
be crowded into a little spot of ground, and my ^eon- 
gregation are able and willing to make me quite happy j 
but owing to a little imprudence soon after my arriTal, 
and the general wetness of the weather, I have been ^ 
bad almost as ever I was ; nearly at times unable topreaeb. 
I an now improving, and after two sermons and the 
Lord's supper yesterday, I scarce feel fatigued thii 
moitiing. In fact, the air is so salubrious, thecouiitry 
so ^tte» the congregation so truly Chris tiau, that couM 
I Idy aside pHeachibg for a few weeks, my health wottld 
be ^materially better. I have the great pleasure of 
suiting the codgregation here, who have nrgetttly and 
repeaitedly pressed me to stay j and when Mr. A. ' Was' 
here, I had some conversations which were almost too 
much for me to resist. I however conquered, and 
told them that I could not think of it at present, ex* 
ception ' this ground : if my health was so bad as not 
to allow me to preach at Oldham, or return to tlie 
north, but sufficiently good to preach here, then wqidd 
I contrive>v.if possible, to stay during the winter.'* 
Mr. Goodier^s physician had recommended him to^ 
continue in the Isle of Wight, and given it a« ln» 
decided opimon, that a Winter in the north would be 
injurious to him, of which he informs his friend, aftd 



1S4 



says, " Theneigbbouring minister bas offered to preacb 
for m% ODM a Sunday^ if I can stay, and witb sacb 
belp« I bare no donbt tbat a wintering bere would be 
rery serriceable ; and I migbt, witb tbe Diyine blessing, 
return to you iu tbe Spring, better able to serve yon 
tban I am now. Could you possibly get supplies for 
so long a time ) Would my friend P. continue to 
assist you } Consult upon tbis matter, and let me 
know your determination. I am sure you will do 
wbat you can for me, for my interest is your own." 
Mr. Goodier then informs bis friends, tbat in tbe 
course of tbree weeks bis present engagement expires,, 
and tbat tbe congregation, as be bad desired tbem not 
to depend upon bim, bad already written to anotber 
minister. If be accepted tbeir invitation, be says, be 
sbould not stay all tbe Autumn and Winter, but tbat 
at all events be would be unable to leave before some 
weeks' time. " At tbe end of it, I trust I sball 
be mucb better, for I am now daily improving, and if 
yon cannot get supplies longer, I must venture, and 
you may. expect to sbake bands witb your affectionate 
friend." 

Mr. Goodier*s bealtb at this time, notwithstanding 
all tbe advantages tbat surrounded bim, ratber declined 
tban improved *, he continued to preacb for some weeks 
longer in tbe Isle of Wight, but witb increasing diffi- 
ctlty and fatigue, and at the end of that time be was 
completely incapable of further public exertion < It is 
a mournful task to trace the gradual progress of bis 
disease, and the continual encroachments it made on 
all bis happy prospects of usefulness and activity. 



IS5 



and there is something peculiarly distressing in record- 
ing those transient intervals of reviving health and 
hope which so soon deceived h]ni» and those sudden 
changes, which, to a heart less estahlished and fixed 
fa Christianity, would have kept their victim in a 
state of constant indecision from hope and fear— ex- 
pectation and disappointment. With all his trust and 
piety, it was a trying dispeasation, and Mr. G. felt it 
as such. There were times when the languor of 
disease, the failure of his designs, and the cloudy as- 
pect of the future, naturally affected his spirits ; but 
(hes^ times were few, and indulged as little as possible. 
No repining word fell from his lips, and the temper of 
his soul was that of resignation, and entire acquiescence 
in his heavenly Father's will : eveii in his diary, his 
feelings of despondency are represt; and under the 
pressure of immediate suffering, he endeavoured to 
dwell only on the blessings he had received, and the 
comforts that were still left to him. 

On the 27th of August, he wrote to his friend 
Mrs. H. his first letter to her from the Island, which 
he commences with informing her, that be had delayed- 
writing, in the hope of being able to give a more favour- 
able report of himself; but that in this hope he was dis- 
appointed. — '* You will be surprised to learn, that not- 
withstanding the beauty of this lovely island, which is 
almost unequalled, the salubriousness of the air^ the 
variety of scenery, and the kindness of my friends, I 
have relapsed into that state of debility, from which 
the kind attentions of yourself and family contributed' 
so much to relieve me. At times I have been almost 
unable to preach, in consequence of an incretise of 

M 



^^^^__^^^ 



136 

eoufb, and a return of the pain in my side. This 
increase of disease was owing to a little inadyfrtency, 
(if I may call it by so soft a name] of which ! was 
guilty about a fortnight after my arriraK Mr. S., with 
his amiable family, came to reside for three months^ 
within a mile of this place. I was immediately in- 
troduced to them, and have found them a great addition 
to my comfort. Mr. S. wishing his son to learn the 
art of riding, hired a pony and requested me to give 
him a few instructions. The first time we rode out 
together, I found my pupil extremely timid, scarcely 
daring to go faster than a foot pare ; however, I ec«- 
couraged and pushed him on from the trot to the 
canter, and to a full gallop, with which he was much 
delighted. He, anxious to exercise his newly acquired 
faculty, and 1 proud of the success of my first lesson, 
we put forward our horses, and I quite forgot that I 
was an invalid, till we arrived at Mr. S.*s, when I found 
myself in a profuse perspiration, and almost exhausted. 
That or the next evenings T was accidentally caught in 
a shower of rain, and though I was little wet, yet the 
dampness of the atmosphere but ill accorded with the 
increased irritability of my lungs, caused by my late 
violent exertion : a cold was the natural consequence, 
the effects of which I still feel; however, I have 
received every assistance that kindness could suggests 
So much about self; were I writing to almost any other 
of my correspondents, 1 should think an apology were 
necessary for having on such a' subject said so much ; 
but your past kindness has convinced nr.e that the sub- 
ject is not altogether without interest to you. . Youen^ 



137 



quire aboat the people, especially those who belong to 
U9. You will have learnt from the preceding^ part of this 
epistle, that they are a benevolent people ^ and active 
benevolence, g^rafted upon fervent piety, is a plant tvhich 
always abounds in Christian fruits. The congregation 
is small, seldom amounting to more than one hundred 
or one hundred and twenty people ; but the majority are 
exemplary Christians ; zealous Unitarians ; desirous of 
plain evangelical preaching; fully convinced of the, 
necessity of encouraging the poor to feel an interest in 
the gpreat truths of Christianity ; united, sociable, in- 
telligent, bumble. With such a congregation I feel a 
motive for exertion, knowing and seeing that my labour 
is not in vain. We have established a weekly con- 
versation* a congregational library, and we are about 
to re-establish a Sanday-schuol, which, owing to the 
want of a minister, and the removal of a few teachers, 
has been suffered to sink. The attention of the town is 
by these means excited, and in the afternoon I am 
always gratified by seeing our gallery well filled, in a 
g'reat part by strangers. I am oonviuced there is a 
good opening for an active minister, and were the 
Oldham congregation able to get a supply for th« 
winter, I certainly would accede at once to the unani-- 
mous request of the people, and spend six or seven 
months with them. But I fear this scheme is im- 
practicable, for I have this morning received a letter 
from Oldham, in wbich they say that they have been 
pretty well supplied, but fear that their resources are 
exhausted, and consequently they hope I shall be able 
to return fo them at the end of the three months, viz. 
in about a fortnight. I am thus placed in an un* 



138 

pleasant situation : my friends here wish me to stay ; 
iwr physician advises it ; my health seems almost to 
require it. The mild winters and springs here, being 
much more favourable than the wet and cold of Lanca- 
shire. One of the congregation, formerly a minister, 
offers to preach for me as often as I wish, even once a 
Sunday, if I will determine to remain ; and is it to be 
wondered at, that on all these accounts, my inclination 
leans to the Isle of Wight ? Indeed, at present, my 
return is out of the question. I am fully persuaded 
that the fatigues of so long a journey would be more 
than I could bear, and would render me absolutely 
useless when at home. But on the other hand, I can- 
not bear the thoughts of Oldham being left in its 
infant state, without a supply ; and my comfort would 
be so completely destroyed by hearing that that flower 
which I have been assiduously endeavouring to tear for 
years, was nipt in the bud, that my improvement in 
health would be much retarded, if not completely sus- 
pended. I will write home and try again what can be 
done, and in the mean time I am determined to stay 
here at least another month, and I trust in the Divine 
blessing, that at the end of that time I shall be much 
better. I know you will give me the best advice in 
this difficulty, and though I anticipate what that advice 
will be, yet I shall wait for it with impatience.*' 
. In the month of September, Mr. Goodier wrote 
again to his father, in answer to some information he 
had received from Oldham, of their difficulty in 
obtaining supplies 3 he expresses his sorrow at being 
unable to comply with their wishes for his return, and 
his regret that he cannot gratify their hopes ; but says, 



13& 

that it is absolutely impossible ; that in his state of 
health, if it did not destroy him, it would render 
him completely useless for months; and that the 
simple exertion of walking to Oldham on a Sunday, 
would disable him from preaching, and eVen riding 
would be too great an effort ; that he considi^red him- 
sdf as ill, or worse, than when he wrote before ; and 
he appeals to them, whether it would not be madness 
to attempt returning home in such a state of health ? 
He gives an account of the great fatigue he had 
experienced from an excursion he had made a few days 
before^ to see a fine collection of ancient paintings, 
and statues, at a nobleman's in the neighbourhood ; 
the distance was only eight miles, he had ridden very 
gently, not faster than a person might walk ; when he 
arrived,- he had rested three or four hours on a sofa, 
and returned most of the way in a post chaise ; and 
yet, the following day, he had bven seized with a 
return of the pain in his side ; he ventured to attend 
the usual conference in the evening, and he coughed 
almost all night ; an increase of infiamtoation was the 
consequence^ and he was still suffering from it ; he 
had been blistered, and his physician had threatened 
him v'ith a perpetual blister, if he did not improve ; 
and he was able to take very little exercise without 
being overcome by the exertion ; he had preached the 
last few weeks, bufe only once in the day ; and he got 
asssistance as frequently as he could. Having given 
his father this account, and shewn the necessity of his 
remaining at least some weeks longer in his present 
situation, he adds, *' This is the place for getting well ; 

m3 



140 



the weather is improying, the air far better than that 
of Lancashire^ and the kindness of the people 
unequalled ; they are able, and willing, to supply every 
want, and to give me every possible attention that my 
health requires. Since my indisposition became serious, 
they would not suffer me to remain in lodgings, waited 
upon by a comparative stranger, but invited me to 
their own homes.^ have spent a fortnight with one 
family, and have now been five days with another, 
with whom I shall remain three or four weeks. The 
family is a rich one, therefore well-able,— a kind one, 
and therefore well-willing, to make me comfortable. 
You need not therefore be at all uneasy about me." 

Mr. G* then adds, that in a few weeks he trusted 
to send better accounts, and hoped that in the mean 
time they would be enabled to make arrangements to 
supply his absence ; in the conclusion he adverts to 
the distresses of the times, and expresses great anxiety 
about his friends and brothers :•— '< I fear they are 
heart-broken with the times ; I wish I was sure that 
you all keep up your spirits, bear with patience^ and 
suffer with fortitude ; what will be the result God only 
knows. The cloud is thick and heavy, and dark, 
whether it will pass over or burst upon us, cannot yet 
be told 5 but as good Mrs. H. says, in either case those 
will be best off, whose treasures are laid up in a better 
country, and who are united together by an affectionate 
disposition to bear each other's burthens here ; let me 
solemnly advise my brothers and all of you, not to give 
way to despondency, but to trust in Him who is the 
confidence of all the ends of the earth. We are all 



141 



at school, and we have our several tasks to learn. Our 
teacher knows better than ourselves what instructions 
we most need, and we ought cheerfully to learn what 
he wishes to teach. To-morrow's lesson will be plea- 
santer perhaps, and at all events, the better we are 
instructed here, the better shall we be fitted for 
acquiring those happy lessons which eternity will 
teach/' Mr. Goodier remained in the Isle of Wight 
during the ensuing winter; but unhappily, notwith- 
standing all the kind attentions of his friends, and the 
best advice to be procured, his heallh continued to 
decline. In his letters to his friend Mr. C, at this 
time, he gives an unfavourable report of it, and looks 
forward, anxiously and doubtfully, towards the future ; 
though his customary feelings of devotion and religious 
confidence, still shed their light through the surround- 
ing gloom. He had heard that his friend w'as entering 
into an engagement to go to the West Indies, and he 
remonstrates with him on the danger of the climate, 
and the gr^at hazard he was going to encounter, and 
earnestly hopes that he will not put his intention into 
execution ; of himself, he says, ^ I am still very weak 
and closely confined, except in very fine weather; 
indeed, this winter, though mild in the extreme, I have 
suffered more than in any preceding one. I have not 
ascended the pulpit since the middle of last October, 
and when 1 shall again be able, I cannot say. Under 
these circumstances, I sometimes feel it hard to think 
that all is well, and working for good, but at the 
same time I find the unspeakable value of Unitarian 
views of the Gospel." A short time after this, Mr. 
Goodier wrote again to his friend. 



14« 



" I^ewport, Isle ^ Wight, Feb, 15, 1617. 

<<Mt Viet Dear Friend, 

** I hare just received your*s of yester- 
day, and am grieyed to think tbat you are within so 
short a distaiiee of this place^ and yet I am prevented 
from seeing you ; a pain in my breast , and a general 
debility, force me to suppress the language of my 
airdent wishes, and to say, < I cannot, must not, come.' 
In my present unfortunate state of health, it would be 
madness to attempt it. I write this with extreme 
regrety for independent of my desire to see and converse 
with you, I . perceive from your mysterious manner 
that yon are about to take the most important step 
between the cradle and the grave. * * Happy should 
I- be, could I be present, but it is not so ordained, and 
I will endeavour to be content; the subject draws my 
pen forward, and I seem to forget my own misfortunes 
in the contemplation of your present and approaching 
happiness. 

**l hope to learn the lesson which Franklin recom- 
mends, viz. :-^tb rejoice in the good fortune of my 
frfends, when nothing in my own lot gives cause for 
joy. I need not say that my prayers for yonr welfare 
will not be wanting, and I trust they will be heard by 
Him nrho answereth prayer. 

' *^ I flatter myself that my health is improving, but I 
. am now worse than ever you saw me. I have, in 
compliance with the advice of two physicians, given 
up all thoughts of mounting the pulpit again for the 
next four or five years at least. But I will not' inter? 
rupt your cheerfulness by any detail of my sorrows ; 
think of me only as your sincere friend." 



143 

The next letter to Mr. C. is dated March 20tb, and 
in congratulating his friend on his happy prospects. 
Mr. Goodier appears forcibly to feel the contrast of 
his own present suffering and uncertain fotare situation. 

<< Newport, March 27, 1817. 

•'DearC 

*< You write like a sincere friend and a 
zealous Christian minister;, you see no difficulties 
before you in your intended expedition. Prospects of 
usefulness and happiness are rising in quick succession 
before your enchanted eyes. God grant in his merpy, 
that your expectations may be gratified to the full* 
I am content to be thought ignorant Med away by 
popular clamour/ or any thing else you please, provided 
but one half of your hoped-for happioess may be 
realized: nor will I suggest a single difficulty that 
might diminish your pleasure of anticipation. I hope 
soon to see you, and will then hear from yourself those 
powerful and convincing arguments which you seem to 
think will sweep before them all my objections. I 
sincerely congratulate you on the happy choice you 
have made of a partner, and trust that your ui^on will 
be a divison of your cares, and a multiplication of 
your joys : wretched indeed. is the state of that country 
ia which it is, at any time, imprudent to form such a 
connexion. * * You have given me a very im- 
perfect sketch of your plan, but you wish me to say 
where and when you may meet me. In reply, I had 
intended to have said at Rumsey„ on Thursday the 
27th inst.^ provided the weather be qcute fine; but 
mj friend Mrs. C — e gives a decided veto, and insists 



144 



vpoomjr saying, <at J.C— 4;*8 Esq., Newport, wlien^^er 
yoQ can make it agreeable ;* the reason she assigns for 
the alteration is this ; that though I am now improved 
and improving in health, yet, such a journey could not 
but be accompanied with risk ; * and besides/ says she, 
* you are not trust-worthy.' I must submit. I hope 
then to see you here towards the middle of next week, 
and shall expect you to preach for us next Sunday 
week ; your presence wiU be medicine to both body 
and mind, and any disappointment will be seriously 
felt by me. 

" You ask if God hath forgotten to be gracious ; 
No, my dear friend, nor ever will. In the midst of 
every judgment, I can sing of mercy ; and in my 
serious reasonable moments, have ever felt the consola- 
tions of religion : but the stroke of affliction has been 
very heavy, and at times despondency and grief have 
been uppermost. The throne of grace has been sur- 
rounded with clouds and darkness. I am now improv- 
ing in health and spirits, and had I a prospect of 
speedily resuming my pulpit labour, I should be as 
happy as a child of Adam ought to be on this side 
death ; but this is forbidden by both physicians and 
friends, and, like my first parents, I am driven from 
my earthly paradise ; my return is prevented by a 
disease which brandishes death in a shape terrible as 
the fiery sword, and my lot is as much worse than his, 
as solitude is worse than society. He had a partner, a 
wife ; I am alone, weak and helpless. Coiue and cor- 
rect this description ; remind me that Providence is my 
guide, that f have many kind friends and relations,, 
who are able and willing to assist and comfort, and 
that happiness is yet in the reach of your^s,*' &c* 



145 



Mr. Goodier from this time became weaker ; he was 
utterly incapable of performiog his public duties, and 
the anxieties of his situation increased. It was not 
merely that he was depriyed of active usefulness, and 
no longer able to raise his voice in the cause which he 
had most at heart. He was obliged to abandon entirely 
the hope of benefitting his congregation at Oldham, or 
resuming his situation with them. He had no other 
prospect before him ; his family and friends wer^ 
themselves struggling with the difficulties of the times ; 
and he could not think of allowing them the additional 
expense of his support. In a mind like his, accustomed 
habitually to look through second causes to the Great 
Giver of all, there certainly could be no disgrace lelt 
in dependence on the kindness of those who were both 
able and happy to assist him, and yet with the natural 
feeling inspired by a life of independent usefulness, he 
ardently wished to be enabled to support himself; ha 
resolved many plans for this purpose, and such was the. 
nobleness of his principle, that no occupation, however, 
humble, would have been rejected, that had enabled 
him to attain this desired object. He explains his 
uneasiness and his wishes, in a letter to his afiectionato 
friend, Mrs. F. dated April 3, 1817, in whic)i he 
solicits her advice in the uncertain aspect of his affairs. 
<* Nothing, dear madam, but continued ill-health, and its 
almost invariable attendant, depressed spirits, could have 
induced nrre to defer so long, an answer to your sympa- 
thizing letter of August last. Spring, which is 
clothing the earth in beauty and reviving all nature, is 
restoring me in some degree to health, and I cannot 
better employ my returning strength, than in dedicating 



146 



it to gr«titiide and friendship, by renewing a corres- 
pondence which 1 shall ever esteem one of the sweetest 
consolations of adversity, and the finest ornament of 
prosperity. I am sure that I need not add any thing 
by way of excuse for my apparent neglect, when 1 
have informed you, that early in October of the last 
year, increasing illness forced me to give up preaching 
altogether, that during the winter^ mild as it has been, 
I was a constant invalid, generally unable to write 
without pain, and that 1 have therefore been a bad 
correspondent with all my friends ; under these circum- 
stances I have often regretted that I was deprived of 
the correspondence of some choice friends whose letters 
were medicine to the son), far more healing in their 
nature than the prescriptions of the most skilful 
physician for the body, anA my regret has been the 
greater that this number should include Mrs. F. and 
Mrs. H. ; on these occasions, however, a variety of 
advocates have pressed forward to plead your cause ; 
something whispered that it was presumptii^us even to 
hope for more than letter for letter ; fear suggested 
that perhaps you also were unwell ; even vanity came 
forward, and put an end to the pleadings by urging, 
that if you had not written to me, I might depend upon 
it, you sometimes thought of me, and felt a lively 
interest in my welfare. These excuses have been more 
than sufficient to procure for you a full pardon ; in the 
want of fresh letters, I have read over and over again 
some of your old ones, and I can assure you, that the 
medicine they afford loses not its efficacy by repeated 
use. You have truly said, that * in every trial there is 
some palliative, and that to have sympathizing friends 



147 

who feel tenderly for us* is one of the greatest of: earthly 
blessings/ The experience of eyery week adds force 
to the conviction ; I feel that the blessing is miney 
and though my trials have been, more severe tban I 
expected, since 1 came here, yet 1 cannot but acknow- 
ledge the kindness of the congregation here, has been 
in proportion great. 1 have been a burthen to the family* 
with whom 1 now am living, the whole winter, yet they 
have ever been ready to cheer my spirits when drooping^ 
and have uniformly shewn the most unexpected kind- 
ness. I came to them last September^ on an invitation 
to spend three or four weeks; 1 have almost unavoidably 
been forced to continue, and they have readily and 
cheerfully procured for me every comfort within their 
power . I have wanted nothing that was necessary to 
my recovery, or that coii^d contribute to my comfort ; 
yet you will not think it strange, that I frequently find 
it difficult to say from th0 heart-*-*All things are 
working together for my good.' The very enjoyment 
of kindness has given birth to a most uneasy sensation, 
viz. that of Yf ehng the burthen of obligation rapidly 
increase, without a prospect of being able to diminish 
it : besides this» my plans have been altogether' 
deranged ; Oldbam has been left to struggle ak>ne ; 
many of my friends in Lancashire have suffered from 
the distress which has desolated the land ; and, if the 
news which I hear be true, many of them are suffering 
now. However, I trust I shall be enabled ever to look 
on the bright side of things, and to remember that 
though clouds and darkness are round about the 
dealings of Providence, yet righteousness is their 
object, mercy their foundation.. I am happy in being 



148 



able to inform you, that the cante of religioua troth at 
Oldhaniy has not materially suffered by my sickness 
and absence. I'hey bare been supplied with preachings, 
I hear^ very regularly and very cheaply ; and if the 
blessings of peace should, as formerly, accompany tbe 
return of peace, the congregation have no doubt of 
their . prosperity and success. I hope to be able in a 
few .weeks to return to them, when perhaps we can 
devise some plan or other for increasing their speed 
towards this wished-for goal. It grieves me to think 
that 1 can no longer assist them as a preacher. On 
this subject I have written to my good friend Dr. T«, 
who entered into my case with truly Christian sympathy, 
and, in a long letter with which be favoured me, ex«* 
pressed himself entirely of the same o^dnion, and 
hoped 1 should not think him my ebemy for speaking 
the truth.*' Mr. G. then says^ ihat all his friends were 
of the same opinion, and expresses bis conviction from 
his own painful experience, that they were right, and 
that he ought to submit. ** If I know myself, I have 
resolved never again to enter the pulpit, until my' 
health is so firmly re-established that all my friends shall 
pronounce me out of the danger of a relapse. Indeed, 
I need not say I will not, for 1 am conscious that for 
a long time to come I cannot preach. At present I am 
unable to read aloud, and too weak to bear the fatigue 
of composition. For four or five years, then, I must 
consider myself as expelled from the pulpit; I cannot 
but hope that at the end of that period I may be 
enabled to return to it, and in the mean time I shall 
endeavour to prepare myself better for discharging the 
serious duties connected with it Here a difficulty 



149 

arises which has cost me maDj an hours* sleep, and 
which I shall state to you frankly, in hopes that your 
advice and ihat of Mr. F. may in some measure lead 
to its removal. What will be the best for me to do 
during^ the next four or five years, to earn a livelihood 
without, on the one side, injuring my health, and on 
the other, being dependent upon my friends? My 
wants are few and easily satisfied, for I have ever care- 
fuUy guarded against the acquirement of expensive 
habits. My wishes also are exceedingly limited, 
extending not to the attainment of any thing more 
than a plain^ decent maintainance. But few as 
are ray wants, and contracted my wishes^ the pre- 
sent state of the cotton trade forbids my return 
to my former business, and I fear that the confinement 
of a school would, for some months at least, be more 
than my health "would bear ; indeed, for a few months 
to come, I shall be obliged to make the restoration of 
health my chief object. If in this I should happily 
aocceed^ woukl not America be the country most likely 
to enable me to acquire a situation as an agent or 
mma/tami in aome wareboiise egmkeclied with tfie cotton 
bnsiil^ess ? The present very gloomy state of affairs 
here, has revived, in some measure, a wish to emigrate 
thither. 1 cannot but think, that under present cir- 
cumstances, America furnishes better openings than 
England ; oppressed, taxed, trampled upon as she now 
is. You will have seen ere this that I am at a loss how 
to act. I can rely upon your*s and Mr. F.^s friendship 
for the best advice, and may I be allowed to hope for 
it now ? I wish to return home and do something ere 
long, for a state of dependence is exceedingly irksome." 



ISO 



A few days after the date of the preceding letter, 
Mr. G. wrote to Mrs. H., and in this letter, the qoick 
sensibility with which he felt the extent of his trial, 
and the straggle it cost him, even with all his confidence 
and piely^ to attain perfect resignation, is feelingly 
depicted. It is a proof of the value of those con- 
solations which can calm even the risings of natnral 
regret, and infuse a spirit of peace in the bosom of 
pain and disease. Mr. G. had none of that indiiSerence 
to the future which is produced by weariness and suf- 
fering ; he had a natural and ardent love of life, and 
while it was spared to him he rejoiced in his existence ; 
and the value of hia submission ought to be estimated 
by the many bright hopes, and capacities of usefulness 
and happiness, which he was now compelled to resign. 

" yewpori, j^pril II, 1817. 
** I have taken up your last letter^ my dear Mrs. H., 
again and again in the course of the last six weeks, 
with a determination to write to you, bat have as often 
deferred the task, as too laborious or inconvenient for 
tO'dayj I have repeatedly wished to renew a correspoa- 
dence which I always esteemed most useful and 
honourable to me, but (lave always found some reason 
or other to postpone the renewal till the morrow. The 
date of your letter is, however, an eye-sore to me, 
which I can no longer bear ; for months I have been 
unable to look or think upon it without regret and 
self-reproach : regret, that 1 should have been deprived 
of your correspondence, under circumstances which 
rendered its consolations and encouragements highly 
desirable ; reproach, that, perhaps, I was alone the cause 



ist 



of this priyalioB, bj tniililging a habit of procrastiaa^ 
ti0n. I bare endeavoured to softea the severity of 
self-^coDdemnation, bj nr^ng in excuse, tint continued 
•nd paiofHl sickness had rendered me unable to cer«^ 
respond, even with my best friends and nearest 
relatious, but at the expense of an effort which always 
increased my pain ; that therefore the friendship of 
Mrs. H. which laid me under a« obligation to write,: 
woald itself be the first to forget and dispense with its 
own claims ; and that in my case, even procrastination: 
itself was pardonable, to say the least, since it arose 
chiefly from a desire to be able on the morrow to give 
a more pleasing account of my health and prospects ;' 
these and similar pleas have been urged with the 
perseverenre and earnestness of a mind anxious to 
stand acquitted of all indifference to ^our friendship, 
and that would be ill at ease if suspected of ingratitude ; 
they have bren regarded, perhaps, with a little of tbc> 
partiality of self-love — butlboagh they have succeeded, 
in some measure, in quieting the murmurs of reproach, 
they are insulficient to procure for me a full pardon. 
This I must owe to your kindness, aiid my con^lete 
acquittal, written and signed with yoiir own hand, I 
shall wait for, with an anxiety bordering upon impatU 
ence. Let me not remain long in a state of uncertainty, 
if your health do not unhappily prevent it, let me hope 
that you will soon, not only set me at ease upon this 
subject, but also satisfy the demands of a friendly 
cariosity, which in answer to all its inquiries concerning 
you and the family at Hanwood, for the last six months, 
has only heard of your writing to Dr. T. as a subscriber 
to Mr. A/s pamphlet; under every head of intelligence 

n3 



152 



eoncerniDg yoa, all is therefore a complete blank; 
though did I not think it likely that the engagfementi 
of charity may ha? e wholly employed yoa^ if in com- 
parative health, I ahonld infer that you have been 
worse than usual, during the winter, because your 
name has not appeared in the Christian Reformer." «' » 
Mr. G. then gives his friend an account of his own 
health, of his having been under the necessity of 
giving up preaching from the preceding October, and 
of his present weakness. On the following day he 
resum<fd bis pen. — *' I had' written thus far yesterday, 
when Mrs. C, my hostess, returned from her morning's 
walk, and with a mild seventy of tone, exclaimed, 
' What ! Mr. G., still writing* ? And then, with a gentle 
rough tttfss of manner, insisted upon my ' putting it 
away directly.' 1 was forced to submit, and yielded 
the more rtadily, because I was fully convinced the 
command was dictated by kindness, and, though it 
might be accompanied by apparent severity, was meant 
only for my good. Is not this a good illustration of 
the Divine ' dealings with his children?. Could we 
penetrate his counsels, and see the object of his appa- 
rently severe dispensations, as clearly as f could see the 
intention of Mrs. C.'s conduct, should we not in- 
variably find that this object was to train us to 
happiness by leading to goodness ? l*he voice of 
Scripture will answer *yes ;* and the language of 
experience will confirm the answer. Thus have I often 
endeavoured to reason, and to establish the conviction 
firmly >n my mind, so as to make it a ruling principle 
of my thoughts and action — that all things are working 
together for my good. — Wheo I have been able to 



153 



abstract nyself from the influence of external circuni- 
st||ncea» and to give myself up almost entirely to the 
Suggestions of reason and religion, I have found it 
conrparatively easy to come to the cheering conclusion, 
that however mysterious the ways of Providence may 
appear, they roust proceed from goodness and mercy^ 
and I have been able to say (I hope with true resigna- 
tion) < thy will, O God ! be done !' On the other hand, 
when I have thought of the complete derangement of 
all my plans, which my sickness has occasioned^ and 
the death-blow it has given to my future prospects of 
happiness, by disabling me from preaching for years to 
come ; when 1 have connected this with the distresses 
of the times, which have involved in ruin thousands of 
respectable families, 1 have felt that that poet had 
studied human nature, who makes even the resigned 
Christian to say, after, surrendering himself entirely to 
God,— 

< But ah ! my heart within mo cries. 

Still bind -me to thy sway ; 
Else, the next cloud that veils the skies 

Drives all these thoughts away.* 
1 need not say to you, that sickness and disappoint^ 
ment teach me to feel the force of language like this; 
If it be the character of a true Christian, that he can 
behold, without regret, the loss of comforts in possession 
or in prospect; that he can stand unmoved amidst * the 
wreck of matter and the crash of worlds' ; if such 
descriptions owe their ei^istence to any thing but the 
enthu8ii»m of poetry, or the inadnessrof stoic philosophy, 
lean as yet lay small claim to that character; and 
however I may admire, it will require several years 



IM 



addilMMl imaflttnt lo emMt me to adopt tint beau- 
liM kngMfe of HaUkkuk^— « Although the fig-tree 
•hoski Bot UoMOD,' kc In the ottaiftnem of that 
baavealy tonper, wfaich» in whitofer sitoatioa we are, 
leaches va to be therewith cooteiit, I hope yea wift 
coBtinae to aaaist me by yonr ralaable letters. Oar' 
commoD friendy Mrs. P., is exccediagly kiod to me in 
this respect, and her last epistle is a Taluable morsel of 
ptoaaand lational consolation. Since I began this 
kttert i have also heard from Mr. A. whose correspon- 
dence is of itself a treasure, and if yon will enable me 
to add to these two letters another token of your kind 
remembrance of me, I shall be in possession of a 
sovereign remedy for discontent and dejection of 
spirits.' It will gratify yon to hear that the congrega- 
tion at OMham has continned to increase, notwithstand- 
ing my absence, and the great pressure of the times ; 
they have been generally well supplied with preachers, 
and seem to have no donbt of 'beivg ultimately 
successful ; their school is flouriskiBg, aud though their 
inances are low at present^ and their UMans very 
limited, (for not many nMe wo called) I trust they 
will, ere long, be provided with a constant supply of 
teachers. The cause of truth also, here in the sooth, is 
making gradual advances, and wants only a namber of 
aealoas preachers to become its advocates." In answer 
to his letter to Mrs. F. soliciting her adidce on the pre* 
sent sitoatioQ of his affaiis,Mr. G.recdrsda very Jund 
and sympathizing letter, entering fully into has feelings^ 
and endeavonrioig to alleviate his anxiety by. every 
means of consolation in her power. In the following 
letter he acknowledges the receipt of it :<7— 



155 



" Ntwf9rt, ^frU 27, U17. 

** I recognised yonr hand- writing, and perused your 
letter, nly dear Mrs. F., with feelings similar to tliose 
with which a weather-beaten traveller would greet an 
old and affectionate friend, after a long separation, in a 
distant land ; a friend, in whom neither distance of 
place nor length of absence could produce an alteration. 
The repeated assurances you give me of yonr and Mr. 
F.'s continued and increasing sytApathy — assurances 
rich with feeling, and evidently flowing from the heart, 
gave me the most exquisite delight, and dissolved mt 
in the luxury of tears. A few days before, I received 
a letter from my kind friend Mr. A— e, who, in the 
same disinterested and generous spirit which dictated 
y6ur letter^ warmly invites me to return to his house, 
and begs me to believe, that if I do nothing but take care 
of his two boys, he shall himself be the obliged party. 
In the event of my being unable to do even this, while 
he assures me that I shall never wakit dny thing 
necessary to my comfort, so long as Providence 
continues to him the means of assisting me, he hopes 
that 1 shall banish from my mind every idea of 
dependence. Of the same date as your's, 1 also received 
a full sheet from Mr. A. ; every line of which breathes 
with the consoling influence of pure Christianity ; and 
this morning 1 had the high gratification of reading 
another token of Mrs. H.'s kind remembrance, written 
in her characteristic style, and abounding in those 
placid sentiments which she so well knows how to 
express. I am sure you will believe me when 1 say, 
that 1 do not mention these things by way of boasting 
either of the number or value of my friends. I mention 



156 



them because I am convinced ibey will reflect on yon 
aome portion of tbat light and pleasure which tbey 
have produced in me ; really these things altogether 
form so powerful a remedy for despondency* and so 
ample a cause for gratitude to Him who hath fited the 
bounds of my habitation^ that I must be a monster of 
insensibitity, did I not look upward with filial confidence 
and forward with hope. The continued preTalence, and 
almost unusual severity, of north and east winds, 
prevents me from commencing my journey homewards 
so soon as I wished. My medical director advises me 
to defer my departure till the air is milder, which I 
cannot hope for till we have had rain -, with the advice 
of my friends here, I have determined to accept your 
invitation* to Shropshire. Indeed, when 1 recollect the 
Ipappiness I felt under your hospitable roof before, I 
r^uire not much advice or many arguments to induce 
Die to accept an offer, which is likely to prove at once 
beneficial and pleasant." Mr. G. concludes by saying, 
that in tbe course of a fortnight, if his health permitted, 
he hoped to be with his fnends ; i« the beginning of 
the next month, he sent an account of his plans to his 
father, and endeavoured to remove the anxiety which 
the intermissions of his correspondence might have 
given rise to. 

" Newport, May 5, IS17. 

<< Dear Fathbr and Mother, 

" Did you measure the warmth of my 
affection by the frequency of my letters, you would do 
me great injustice, and I persuade myself that the case 
is the same with you. Writing is now become an irk* 



157 

some and often a painful task. My indisposiitioti hat 
brooght on a weakness of mind that almost disables 
me from composition, together with an indolent pro- 
crastinating temper, which leads me to think anj time 
better, for carrying a design into execution^ than the 
time present : let this be a sufficient reason for any 
long silence that may occur, and never suppose that it 
arises from increased sickness. My health, I trust, is 
on the wbole improving, but by no means so rapidly 
as I hoped and expected. * • At present 1 have 
very little pain, but cannot say that I am at all stronger 
than I was a month ago. Mr. B. assures me that I 
shall recover fast when the wind settles in the south 
and brings rain, which the people here are in want of 
to the highest degree : in the mean time I endeavour to 
wait with patience ; and were I assured that your minds 
were at comparative ease, and that the great distress of 
the times comparatively affects you in a trifling degree, 
I should Ifiad it a much less laborious task to be ha* 
bitually cheerful and contented. The kindness of my 
friends here continues uninterrupted, and had I been 
one of Mr. C— *s own family I could not have been 
better supplied with every thing needful. I am sure 
you will join me in thankfulness to the merciful Dis- 
poser of events, who, in giving me such friends during 
my sickness, kindly mingles the cup of adversity with 
an ingredient that deprives it of much of its bitterness, 
and thus confirms the assurance, that all things are 
working together for good. You have in all probability 
heard of, or seen, my letter to Mr. A., from it you will 
learn that I am unwillingly compelled to give up the 
delightful office of a Christian minister, for a few years 



158 



at least: af coane I moat rcaign my aitoation at 
OUhmuL little did I once think that mj aerricea at 
that, place would have been of ao trifling a nature, and 
of so ahort a duration. Howeyer, 1 am determined to 
hope that it ia all for the beat ; and I am convinced, that 
if. the membera of that congregation be ftiithful to 
themaeWea and the great cause which is entrusted to 
their care, my loas will be na serious injury. I feel a 
lively interest in their welfare, both individually and 
collectively, and shall not cease to supplicate the 
Divine blessing on their labours. Present to them my 
kindest remembrances, and do not fail when you write 
to inform me how they are, as individuals and as a 
congregation. If I find 1 cannot come home, in the course 
of a few weeks 1 intend writing to them as a Christian 
society, Mr. A. — "s letter to me was dictated by a 
most disinterested and generous spirit, and is couched 
in terms (hat do him honour as a friend and a Chris- 
tiail**' Hr. G. here repeats the kind offer which his 
friend had made him of. a home in his family during 
hia aicknesa ; and says— -^^ Such kindness I shall never 
forget.*' He then mentions his invitation to Shrop- 
shire ; and adds, ** Mrs. H. also wishes me to visit 
them» and as my health is. such as to require all my 
attention at present, I have been induced to comply, 
with, the invitation, and hope in about ten days to set 
off for Shrewsbury. We have received John A.*8 
pamphlet, and it is . likely to do much good. I am 
suiprised that the title-page should have been, so 
general and indefinite. It seems to have been totally 
forgotten that the pamphlet might fall into the hands 
of Trinitarians who had never read Dr; T.'s account 



U9 

of the Rossendale churches in the Repmitory : the 
▼erj circamstaBce which renders the case so interesting* 
is wholly unnoticed in Ihe title page ; Tiz. that the 
people at Rossendale hecame Unitarians without read- 
ing any hook but the bib W • « 

Before he left the island, Mr. Goodier wrote again 
to his friend Mr. C— , and strongly expressed his 
regret at his departure for the West Indies, and his 
conviction of the utter incompatibility of oppression 
with instruction, of tyranny with Christianity ; a con- 
viction which has been verified in a remarkable manner 
by the circumstances which have since occurred, and 

which became the subject of a* public discussion 

That Mr. G. distinctly foresaw the result to which 
such an attempt must inevitably lead, appears from the 
following letter; which, at the same time affords a 
proof that correct principles, and proper feelings for 
the interests of human nature, will often lead to those 
truths, which the cold and intricate reasonings of those 
who conceive themselves more practically acquainted 
with the subject, may fail to discover. 

" JSTewport, May 17, 1817. 
"My Dear Friend^ 

" Never imagine that I shall attribute any 
long silence of your^s to neglect, or suppose that 
assurances are necessary to convince me that unavoid- 
able necessity only could have prevented you from 
coming to see me. I am too certain of your friendship 
to suppose that you did not intend it, and, too well 
acquainted with the disappointments to which we arc 

O 



160 



all subject^ not to k.now that our intentions and actions 
seldom correspond to each other. I am very glad to 
• hear that you are not hkely to embark till October ; 
and will yon pardon me if I say, that I earnestly hope 
something will intervene to prevent your embarking at 
all? Our African breihen have my .jbest wishes and 
prayers ; but they must become men, before they can 
be made Christiana, and it will be vain to teach them 
that Christianity is a heavenly religion, enjoining peace 
and g(»od will amongst mankind, while its professors 
drag them from their homes and families, sell them as 
cattle, and retain them in the most degrading and 
degraded state of slavery. Slavery and the Gospel can 
never flourish together. Where the spirit of the Lord 
is, there is liberty ; and while you are considered by 
vour hearers, and consider yourself as the servant of a 
slave dealer or a slave owner, you can never teach 
with success the Christian principles of freedom ; you 
cannot proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, in 
which the captive shall be delivered, and the great 
jubilee commence. Besides, you are wanted at home ; 
here the soil is in some measure prepared ; but I will 
not go on ; if your arrangements are made, and your 
resolution taken, it is time to drop all further 
persuasion. 

" i am sorry that your plans and mine have so little 
agreement, that I fear we shall scarcely be able to see 
each other. 1 am anxiously waiting for fine warm 
weather, that I may direct my face to the north. I in- 
tend to set out on Tuesday next, * Deo volente,' for 
Shrewsbury. At Shrewsbury I shall spend a few 
weeks with my dear friends Mrs. II. and Mr. F., 



161 



who are now expecting me every day. Of course I 
shall not see London, or be at the fand meeting ; in- 
deed the fatigue of the journey wiM be sufficiently 
great according to my present phm, and my health will 
by no means allow me to venture the bustle of a fund 
meeting. I am still very weak ; my medical attendant 
advises a voyage during the summer, and my friend 
Mr. F. wishes me also to undertake one. Perhaps I 
may. JVfy friends in general almost overpower me 
with kindness. ^ ^ Now, however, J can possess 
my soul in patience, believing that when health is 
restored, a sphere of usefulness will be provided by 
Him, who never gives talents without taking away all 
excuse for bnrying them in the earth. 1 cannot expect 
you to visit me before I depart, an<] for ought I know, 
mast for the present give up my hopes of seeing you : 
ftiill I trust we shall meet before the long cuiieu of 
which you speak, and of which I cannot think but 
with regret. ^ ^ When my plans are further 
arranged, you may expect to hear again from your 
affectionate friend,*' &c. 

Mr. Guodier was detained longer than he in- 
tended in the Isle of Wight, from the unfavourable 
state of his health, and he did not reach Shrewsbury 
till the middle of June. His spirits were also much 
depressed, and the separation from many affectionate 
friends, and some in particular, with whom he had 
shared the comforts and sympathies of home, could 
not take place without many melancholy and painful 
feelings. He had gone to the island almost a stranger 
among strangers^he had been received with kindness 



16S 



and welcomed with cordial hoapitaKty^-his miDisterial 
aemces had been approved and saccessful — ^he had 
been domesticated amongst them, and loved them ; and 
be had received from them the warm affection and 
generoos attentions which are in sickness so consoling^ 
and for which they considered themselves fully repaid 
by the pleasure they derived from bis society and friend- 
ship. He was now leaving them with no prospect of 
return^ in a very precarious state of health, and the 
parting was indeed destined to be a final one. Under the 
impression of these feelings, soon after his arrival, he 
wrote a few lines to his father, which breathe the regret 
and suffering he so generally endeavom^ to repress. 

" IVrentnaU, June 25, 1817. 

** Dear Father, 

** I arrived here in a very feverish and 
debilitated state on Monday last, having been forced 
to defer my departure from the Isle of Wight 
till the 17th inst. I received last night your letters, 
containing such a variety of information, a great part 
of which is discouraging, to say the least. I dare not 
defer writing, because your anxiety for my welfare will 
lead you to augur ill from my silence ; but as 1 have 
been writing in answer to various letters, 1 cannot now 
write much. 1 wish I could say that my health were 
improving ; but this I cannot. My trial is not yet 
closed ; and I hope you will assist me to bear and 
suffer the whole will of a wise and good God wjtb 
patience and resignation. I wish I could tell you all 
the kindness 1 have experienced in the island. Sick 
as I have been since last October, and unable to preach, 



163 

they have kept me for nothing ; and the person who 
supplied the pulpit actually insisted upon tny receiving 
the salary. I am recovering the fatigue of my journey, 
and am experiencing the friendship of Mr. and Mrs. F. 
and Mrs. H. * • Give ray love to all my friends. 
I shall soon write again, and in the mean time trust 
you will bear up against every difficulty, looking for- 
ward to that haven of rest which remains for the 
faithful followers of Christ. I must not go on, for my 
chest warns me that 1 must cease to write if I mean to 
prove myself indeed your affectionate son," &c. 

Soon after his arrival in Shropshire, Mr. Goodier 
visited his friends at Hanley, and before he left 
Wrentnall, he sent a few farewell lines to Mrs. H. 
Her kindness and affection were warmly exerted 
for his comfort ; and if care and tenderness could have 
checked his disease, its fatal progress would indeed 
have been averted. 

** Wirentnally July ^, 4§iy, 

"You will have anticipated, my dear Mrs. H., 
what ^mp sitting down to inform you of ; that our depar- 
ture from this place has been postponed, partly on 
account of the bad weather. I am not sorry for this 
delay, as it gives me an opportunity of seeing more of 
the country, and recovering more perfectly from the 
fatigue of my journey. The weather however is un- 
favourable, and hinders me from going out much : if 
the wet (Continues, I do not see how I can travel at all 
with safety. I think myself better than when at 
Hanwood, notwithstanding the wet; indeed, if the 

OS 



¥ 



kind attentions of my imiable friends here shoald be 
completely unavailing, my case would be hopeless : so 
far, I mean, as this world is concerned — with regard to 
the next, the Christian's case is never hopeless. If I 
see you not again, before I leave the neighbourhood, 
let this assure you of 4he grateful remembrance I shall 
ever cherish of your ki«)lness, and that of your family ; 
and let me request yoilt^t times to think of, and oc- 
casionally to favour with -your consoling letters, your 
affectionate friend," &c. 




A few days after the datXof the preceding lines, 
Mr. G. accompanied his kind friends to Liverpool, 
where he experienced every attention and indulgence 
which affection could suggest. Butvhe was now be- 
coming himself but too sensible of the* certain^ though 
slow, increase of his complaint, from the continued 
weakness and lassitude which he sufftred. The summer 
had come, and had brought with it soft air and mild 
days^ but it had not restored his exhausted frame. — 
The ' warm weather * he had wished for so long at last 
arrived, but it no longer brought renewed feelinjfs of 
strength and hope to the weary sufferer. He ooAion- 
ally indeed felt the delusive expectation incident to his 
disease, but in his hours of reflection he knew it was 
but delusion. Writing to his father in August, he says, 
<< since you left I have continued much as 1 was ; 
'always fancying myself better than when in the Isle of 
Wight, and yet conscious that 1 am thinner and weaker 
than 1 was in the spring. Last Wednesday, Mr. F. 

called upon a Dr. , a very scienti6c and skilful 

physician of this town, and desired him to come and 



•I^^^r- 



165 



see me, with a view to his advice as to the propriety 
of a Toy age, or whether wintering ahroad would be 
necessary or likely to prove useful : he came the next 
naorning and was with us upwards of two hours. « ^ 
I wished him to he explicit in his opinion, and told 
him, that after the many advantages I had enjoyed 
during the last twelve months, still finding myself 
emaciated and weak, I had little or no expectation 
of my recovery. He was very candid and open." — 
Mr. Goodier's physician advised that he should try 
what medicine might effect, before he finally decided on 
a sea voyage^ and in this opinion the patient himself 
very willingly acquiesed. Immediately after his arrival 
in Liverpool he wrote to bis father, and though ?t is 
painful to record the details of his suffering, yet they 
exhibit in so interesting a light that patience and gentle- 
ness under severe trial, which is so conspicuous in 
every period of his short life, that they cannot in jus- 
tice to himself be omitted. 

" Liverpool, July 19, 1817. 

'* Dear Father, 

'< My conscience has continually reproached 
me for some time past, for not writing to you, in order 
to relieve you in some measure from the anxiety of 
mind which my last letter would naturally occasion, and 
also to give you farther information of my state of 
health. I can defer the task no longer 3 especially as 
it is necessary that you should know of my arrival in 
this town. I call writing a task, because it requires 
such an exertion as ill agrees with my lethargy of 
mind, and weakness of body ; however, I am better 



166 



able to write now than when 1 last addressed you ; 
when for six or seven nights I had been unable to sleep 
much, and had unfortunately been exposed to the 
fatigue of travelling, and the vexatious impositions of 
strangers. 1 met with every attention from Mr. and 
Mrs. F.y who did every thing in their power to restore 
rae. Indeed, I am often astonished at the kindness of 
these excellent people, and of my friends in general. 
Not a day passes without abundant reason to be thank- 
ful to that bountiful Providence, which has raised me 
up such generous helpers in such a time of need. The 
weather during my stay in Shropshire was generally 
wet and stormy, so that I could not get out on horse- 
back more than four or five times. We left Wrentnall 
on Wednesday, and came on in a post-chaise to 
fillesmere, where we stayed all night ; the next day we 
had a delightful ride to Chester, and thence we came 
in the steam-boat to Liverpool. The journey was 
charming on account of the richness of the country 
through which we passed, the agreeable mode, and 
company in which I travelled^ and the kindness of Mrs. 
F., who treats me as a son, and in every thing shows 
that she is interested for my recovery. I have said 
this was doubtful, if not hopeless, and that I considered 
myself in a confirmed consumption ; perhaps this was 
rather the account of temporary despondency, than of 
actual truth. Mr. B« thinks a voyage and spending 
the winter in a warmer climatei would be the most 
likely means of recovery. These means (at least the 
first) my friends in the Island and here, almost insist 
upon my trying, and have already done much towards 
furnishing me with the money necessary ; I refer to 



167 

the geotrofiity of the Newport congn^gatioti^ ia insist^ 
ing on my accepting the salary for the last eight 
months, though during that time I have not preached 
a single sermon. The major part of this I shall feel 
it my duty to devote to the acquirement of ny health, 
and if, after making use of the prescrihed means, I 
still continue to grow weaker, I hope you will he pre- 
pared to assist me in resigning myself to the will of an 
all-wise Father, however mysterious his dispensations. 
The suffering 1 have already endured has not, I trust, 
been lost upon me ; and if by it, the Great Former of 
all things is intending eventually to take down this 
iaberiiacie of flesh, 1 can truly say with R. A, that He 
is doing it gently and mercifully, and I have little 
doubt but anodier wiU be prepared for bm through his 
grace« eternal in the Heavens. A prayer I have often 
uttered, has been heard and answered, that from the 
experience of the past, I might be enabled to trust 
with confidence in the goodness of God for the future. 
This I have reason to do. I am sure I shall never 
want any thing that is really necessary for me ; and 
whether I exist in this world or another, still as I shall 
be always under the government of God, all will be 
wellf all will work together for good^ if it be not my 
own fault. These sentiments support and cheer me, 
and whatever be the result of my sickness, 1 trust you 
will be content ; I am not indifferent to this result, and 
cannot but hope that it will be ii/e ;~i-life, though 
accompanied with many troubles, as you have lately 
but too well experienced, I fear, is still an invaluable 
gift, and 1 prize it ; many things 1 wish to learn*-^ 
many things to do; but if it be appointed otherwise, *l 



168 



have kope towards God/ that not even death will be 
able to separate nie for ever from his fayour. 

** Many things in your Jast letter, as well as that of 
luy friend, J. G., gave me considerable pain and 
anxiety ; I can hardly conceive how you earn a bare 
living at the present prices, and I have been loth to 
burthen you additionally with the expense of postage. 
Again, 1 request that you will not deny yourself of the 
necessary comforts of life, so long as you can command 
a tingle farthing which you may call or think mine — 
see that your health, and that of my mother does not 
suffer on that account ; poor T. C. has engaged much 
of my thoughts, compared with his, my malady is not 
worth mentioning ; how is he now ? I fear my dear 
friends at Deane Lane, and Birchfield, will have thought 
me neglectful to old friends, in my admiration of new 
ones, because I have not written to them, or said much 

of them in any of my letters. I have frequently been 
uneasy with the thought that they might imagine me 
ungrateful, and more especially as one family has been 
visited with an affliction which rendered the consola- 
tions of friendship doubly necessary, and doubly 
valuable. I trust they will be ready to make excuses 
for me^ and to set down any apparent inattention to the 
score of ill-health, and an unwillingness to trouble 
them with postage, at a time when every penny is so 
dearly earned, rather than to any want of friendship ; 
make the same excuse for me to my Dukenfield friends. 
Indeed I have all along relied upon the candour of my 
friends, and have often left their kind letters unnoticed, 
when it would have been much more agreeable to my 
feelings to have answered them. If in any case I have 



169 

expected too niucb, I hope I shall be pardoned. Is 
J. S. at homey and has he sent home my books, &c. ? 
If there is any thing you can make use of, it is at your 
service. Is it likely that any one from your neighbour- 
hood will come to Liverpool soon ? I shall stay here 
til) next week's end, at all events, trying the effect of 
sailing and riding in fine weather. I shall then proba- 
bly take a short voyage, but to where I do not yet 
know; when. I do, 1 will inform you; write soon; let 
my brothers send me some message or other, and con* 
tinue to tell me how yon, my sisters, and friends all 
are ; believe me to be ever," &c. 

Soon after- Mr. Goodier*s arrival in Liverpool, his 
father paid him a visit, and after his return home, Mr. 
G. sent him a letter, which shows how fondly his 
absent family and friends still held their accustomed 
place in his affections, and how much he regretted the 
loss of that personal intercourse, for which the kindest 
correspondence can make so inadequate a compensation. 
<< Several weeks have now finished their rapid career, 
since you left me, and it begins to seem a long time 
since I heard any thing of home and its concerns. I 
visit you, it is true, every day and every night in mind, 
but imagination's eye does not always present a true 
picture of the reality, nor in these mental visits am I 
able to tell you any news of myself or those around 
me." On the 14th of August, he wrote to Mrs. H., 
and this letter breathes a beautiful spirit of piety and 
heavenly mindedness, not unmingled with some feelings 
of painful and natural regret in the contemplation of 
the probable termination of his sufferings. 



170 

** Liverpool, Augmt 4j^, liif, 

** I have been debating^ witb myself for the 
last fif« minutes, mj dear Mrs. H., wbetber I sbould 
send yon simply an account of my bealtb and of the 
pkms I intend to adopt, or indulge myself in filling a 
sheet as usual when I correspond with yoa. I shall 
have an opportunity of sending to-morrow to Shrews- 
bnrjy and I feel as if it would be an act of injustice, 
did I not allow myself at least the chance of coTering 
a sheet. Several of my friends tell me in their letters 
that I may satisfy their anxiety in five or six lines, but 
they forget that I cannot in so short a compass satisfy 
my own desire of conversing with them, and compen- 
sating myself in some degree by their ideal presence, 
for the privation I sufi*er in their real absence. Write 
a note of five or six lines to Mrs. H. ! it would be as 
difiicnit almost as to be compelled to speak only half a 
dozen sentences to her, were I now seated in her com- 
pany at Hanwood. f might, perhaps, be led to 
acquiesce in such a restriction, if you were to engage 
to fill up the time by your own conversation, and in 
like manner if I durst hope that I should continue to 
receive from you occasionally letters so delightfully 
full as yoiir*s have in general been, I might perhaps be 
persuaded to write with laconic brevity. I do not say 
this altogether from a selfish motive, but partly from a 
conviction that my letters, however completely filled, 
can never give you half the pleasure which I receive 
from your's ; if they -could, -no circumstances, but such 
as disabled me from writing altogether would prevent 
me from addressing you at every convenient opportunity. 
As, however, you kindly condescend to be interested 



171 

m my welfare, and bave generously favoured .me with 
jour fnendahip and correspondence, though I cannot 
hope to give you any equivalent in return, and never 
write to you under the impression Ifaat I ^communicate 
b^lf the pleasure I receive, yet I ieelit to be a iHiviieg«, 
an hionour not easily to be resigned, to write as raufih 
to you .as I please. With these, sentiments, why (I 
have frequently asked myself)-— why did I not better 
improve the opportunity which my Jate vi^it into 
Shropshire afibrded me, of conversing with you ? — why 
did I not disclose to 3'ou more fully tho state of my 
mind, with respect to death and futurity ? — and why 
did I not converse more frequently on these grand and 
enlivening subjects — those bright and transporting 
prospects which pure Christianity suggests and unfolds 
to the sincere followers of Jesus ? I cannot answer 
these questions to my cono^plete satisfaction. I am 
sensible that I did not improve as much as I ought to 
Jbave done, the privilege of your company and con^ 
versatiouj and it is scarcely a sufficient excuse that 
my journey had brought on such a debility of body, 
and nervous irritability of mind,. accompanied at times 
by a lethargic stupor, as almost unfitted me from 
sharing the benefit of the best company and most in- 
structive conversation. How kind it is of you, under 
these circumstances, to make up, in some degree, a loss 
arising from weakness and perhaps inattention, by favour- 
ing me with so long .« letter as your last ! Believe me, my 
dear msdam» when I consider the exertion which such 
a letter must have cost your delicate frame, I feel 
sensibly the obligations under which I am placed by 
the receipt of it. But while you are striving to con^ 

P 



172 

vince ine that life is a scene of great and intense svf- 
fering, with the hope of thns leading me more willingly 
to resign a boon which you think I value too highly, 
are yon not at the same time binding me to earth by 
those endearing ties — ^those silken cords you mention, 
gratitode and affection ? Can it, think you, be an 
easy task to break those cords when they connect me 
to such fri«ids as you, Mrs. F/, Mr. A— d, and a host 
of others*- to say nothing of a kind father and a long 
list of relations ? 1 know that you will reply, (bat 
these same cords connect me with Heaven, the abode 
of that Great Being in whom is the fountain of life 
and goodness, and from whom I have received all those 
blessings of friendship which have made my life com- 
fortable and happy, which have almost robbed adversity 
of its sting, and taken from disappointment half its 
bitterness. I feel the force of the argument, and am 
sensible that I have much to answer for, if your friend* 
ship for me has not made me more alive to the impor- 
tance of heavenly roindedness, and more anxious to 
cultivate a spirit of entire devotedness to the will of 
God, valuing only, and only wishing for, what he 
tipproves. This spirit has breathed in every epistle 
with which you have favoured me, and in the tracts 
you have given us from the press it stands pre-eminent. 
I trust that some portion of it animates my breast, and 
though I value life highly, with all its troubles, yet I 
feel a cheerful confidence in believing that I do not 
fear death, and that when my heavenly Father calls, 
I shall not be unwilling to obey. I am fearful of saying 
too much on this subject, for I must acknowledge that 
were life and death equally within my power, life would 



f 



173 

be my choice* I cannot conceive that the love of life 
is sinful : on the contrary, the gospel revelation of a 
future and everlasting existence, in which our degree 
of enjoyment will depend upon our good or ill conduct 
here, stamps the present life with a value inexpressible. 
At the same time I agree with you that the wise 
Author uf our existence knows best when that existence 
should be suspended, or continued in some other stage 
of being ; and the reflection, that whether living or 
dying we are the objects of His care, takes away much 
from the terrors of the grave. Continue your kind 
efforts to raise my thoughts above earthly concerns, 
and I trust you will meet here with some recompense 
in my improvement ; and thus, whether or not we meet 
again in this world, our meeting will be joyful, and 
contribute to our mutual happiness, * • With my 
good wishes for yourself and for all your house, I remain, 
in health or sickness, your obliged and affectionate 
friend,*' &c. 

Soon after writing the above letter, Mr. Goodier 
heard again from his friend, who endeavoured to con- 
vey to him by her correspondence, not only every 
religious consolation, but her conviction of the happi- 
ness and independence which a Christian mind like his 
ought to feel, even in the most trying and afflictive 
circumstances. His answer evinces how much comfort 
be received from her affection, and how sincerely he 
valued her advice. 

" Liverpool, September 23, 1817. 

. ** I read your last kind letter, my dear Mrs. H., with 



174 

IfeeKngs of almost umningled defigbt; had my own 
conacience been able to sanction the faigb opinion 700 
express of me, as a happy independant on to-morrow, 
and had I not received the painfd intelligence that you 
Were so nnwell as to be onable at times to silf np» t^ren 
in the company of Mr. A,, my gratification woirfd 
have been complete. — How kind was it, under sndi eir* 
cnmstances, that you should have taken the froulife of 
completing your letter and filling your sheet ! Mr. A* 
told me how difficult it was for you to accomplish Chia; 
that you diould even be thus miwdly is a sabjeef of 
sincere regret to me, but that, whes so, jfou i^eidd 
kindly persevere in writing; renders your letters doubly 
valuable to me. I wish it were in my power in return^ 
to send you such information as would stamp this 
sheet with a value, which in your very pairlial and 
friendly estimation vrould make it * worth more thaa 
all I have received from you put together'-— btfl my 
good doctor (well he deserves the name) wa» to^ 
sanguine. I continue at present in much the same 
state as when Mr, A. was here, which iras better than 
he seemed to expect to find me; had he stayed, I 
almost believe I should have been better slill, fofSfli 
you say, his conversation is ezhilirating in a very high 
degree. I could not but regret his veiy short stay 
with U9, much too short 1 think for the importance 6f 
the place, where he is very little known, and where 
he needs only to be known, to be admired and loted. 
After his departure I was more and more disposed to 
lament the shortness of his visit, and to envy you the 
pleasure of his company ; I had hoped to have some 
religions conversation with him, and like another Bbs- 



175 

well, had formed a plan of regialering^ his almost every 
wordy thinking that it might prore the last interview I 
should .ever have with him. He talks so delightfully^ 
and at the same time so rationally^ on th^ character of 
Grod» the proofs of his essential and universal goodness,; 
and on the Christians' hope in death, that his conver- 
sation on these subjects is valuable to all, bqt especially 
▼aluable to me, struggling very likely myself with a 
disease that generally proves fatal. To be deprived of 
so good an opportunity for improvement in heavenly- 
mindedness, was indeed a serious disappointment; 
however, I hope that my loss was a gain to him, and 
that his excursion in North Wales tended to establish 
him in that health, which is so necessary for the dis- 
charge of his important duties. I sincerely rejoiced 
on his account, as well as on the account of our 
countrymen at large, that the weather turned out so 
remarkably fine. What a blessing to the country at 
targe will this fine weather prove ; filling the mouths 
of the poor with bread, and I trust their hearts with 
joy and gladness ! Trade also begins to flourish, wages 
in the manufacturing districts are beginning to advance, 
and hope begins to take the place of despair in the 
countenances of poor parents. May the Divine good- 
ness continue, and lead mankind to repentance and 
gratitude ! 

<< Our dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. F., under whose 
hospitable roof I have so long enjoyed all that kindness 
aided by wealth, could impart, intend to leave home 
for Leamington, on Monday next. I intend to spend a 
few days next week in Chester, after which I shall pro- 



p 3 



176 

bably return to Manchetter, thereto fence myself as 
well aa I cao against the inclemencies of the approach- 
ing winter ; or^ if my friend Dr. -— adTisea, there to 
prepare for a Toyage to some wanner climate* I have 
written to him, pressing him to give me his candid 
o]Mnlon as to the probability of my recovery, and the 
propriety or impropriety j>f a voyage. I have the 
greatest confidence in his judgment* and will be guided 
by his advice in my - future conduct. He behaves in 
all respects as a friend. You see how many tempta* 
tions 1 have, to think well of mankind, and to wish to 
stay amongst them-«every .act of human kindness I 
strive to view as a proof of Divine goodness, and an 
argument for confidence in Himy and resignation to his 
wise appointments. .By this means I trust I shall be 
gradually preparing either for greater usefulness on 
earth, if it please God to spare my life, or for an 
admission to his more . immediate presence in Heaven, 
if He see fit to remove me. I shall be happy to hear 
of your recovery as soon as it is convenient for you to 
write, and shall continue to hope, for the sake, not only 
of your immediate friends, but also for the public at 
large, whom you improve by your writings, that your 
health and life will long be preserved^*' 

A few weeks after the preceding letter was written^ 
Mr. Goodier paid a visit in the neighbourhood of 
Chester, and benefited much by his short absence, and 
on his return to Liverpool under the delusive feelings 
of reviving strength and hope, he sent his friend Mrs., 
F. the following account of himself. 



177 

'' lAverpoat, October 14, 1817. 

'' <' Allow me, my dear Mrs. F., to commence with what . 
stands nppermost in my mind ; my acknowledgements 
for the great gratification I felt in the receipt of yovr 
letter* hoth as it afibrded me another proof of your 
continued kind attention to me, and informed me of the 
pleasure you have in your stay at Leamington^ and yonr 
c[xcursions in the neighbourhood. I cordially rejoice 
that the place and neighbourhood so well answer your 
expeetalioBy and cannot but hope that it wiU be of 
essential service to both Mr. F. and yourself. I am 
not surprised that you find the company of lords, 
knights, and admirals, in whose estimation pedigree 
and rank form the. only standard of worth, insipid — I 
should be both surprized and sorry were it otherwise. 
The experience of the world in all ages sanctions 
the opinion of Ajar, that a middle station in life is 
most favourable to the acquirement of the virtues and 
graces of the man and the Christian ; * how hardly 
shall a rich man enter into the kingdom of God' !-^ 
Pleasant as your excursion has been, I doubt whether 
my stay at B. has not been more so ; at the time- of 
your writing I was still there, and only left on Satur- 
day last. The kindness and hospitality of Mr. and 
Mrs. S. is cxiceeded only by your own, and each suc- 
ceeding day gave me additional reason for admiring 
Mrs. S.'s character. The fortnight passed rapidly 
away, and at the close of it, I could scareely believe I 
had stayed there so long ; during my visit, I have been 
remarkably well ; drunk a quart of good buttermilk 
every day ; rode out frequently, and, would yon believe 
it, actually gained in weight a whole pound. Would 



that 1 hid y^t thrto or four months of fine weather 
helhre mt, I should not desfuiir of almost complete 
Fscoveiy. My improTement in countenance was sacb 
as to strike my lirerpool friends on my return. Mr. 
£. seemed really affected with gratitude to Heaven on 
my account, and ferrently hoped that I should soon be 
able Co help Mr. H.; this, however, is quite out of 
the question, though 1 begin to flatter myself that *- 1 
shall yet live to praise Him who is the health of my 
countenance, and the strength of toy days.' " There 
was some thought at this time of Mr, Goodier's taking 
a voyage, and the following passage alludes to this^ 
intention i-^** Yesterday I receif^ a letter from Mr. 
A., from which I' lieam littie or nothing respecting 
my intended voyage. I had requested him to write to 
Mr. F« on the subject, who is the friend of Mr. H.*' 
This answer was an undecided, and by no means an 
encouraging one, and Mr. Goodier adds, ** Thus you 
see I am left in complete uncertainty, and it is likely 
perhaps that I shall not go to the West Indies. I 
could scarcely call this a disappointment, even if 1 were 
certain that it would be the case, for I have not suffered 
myself to think it probable that 1 should go ; if I 
could flatter myself that 1 should continue as well 
through the winter, as I have been the last fort-> 
night, I would not wish to go any where from home."' 
From this time Mr. Goodier's health continued very 
precarious, notwithstanding seasons of occasional- 
improvement, and on the approach of winter his 
physician earnesUy recommended him to seek a warmer 
climate. His friend, Mr. C, was on the eve of his 
departure for Jamaica, and several reasons induced 



17» 

Mr» Goodier lo tlmk of accompiuiyiiig tttow tboffgh. 
hk Qir» ioclinatioBfr would have iadnced him to remitiu. 
1^ hom^ His frmda w«re pressing, ia their eiitoeaties 
that hft wckuU not mk ths. trial of aopt^er mitcsr in 
finglMid^ and UUaft he woold innmediairly taka a Txgfaf^ 
aa the only probi^>la ovsaiia of aastoriog hia baaltlu 
IHr. C. had loag been, his friend,, he bad known and 
lovodl him. for jeans^ and the hojj^. oC hanag H» lonua* 
liaesa of his abodi^ uk a land q£ stiangeisi soothed hj 
his aUentiona^ hecame a great indacement to the 
voyage*. He wsota to hia father ceqjseatiQg his adrica 
on this occasiqnj. and infocming him thai frem thA 
esperiaaee o£ the past year, he. had little to hope, from 
a Laacashjrei winl», h«t felt % mcsEal certainty of Us. 
makii^ him ^wwa-^hal tfa« climate in Jamaiati waa 
iftiy deliglitfal daring the winter and sprini^ and that 
hia^physician gave him arai^ reason lO' hopathatt wiA 
thaDivino Uessiag, a voyage and reaidenca tfaara» v(Ould. 
mttcb cootiibata to hia recovery. Oa tha otter han4h 
Mr. 6, diaiiked tha trouhU and ezpenaaof tUs voyage^ 
and h# regveitted the idea of leaving hia rabtions and 
fidenda so anddealy aa to be unabk afea to hid tham 
fiurewell. His kind friend* Mrs. F.* was alaa from hom^» 
and he bad very Utile time for preparation ; bo wrote 
ta ask her opinion on the snbjectft and to. inform her 
that ha had written to Mr. C and his iatber : bo adda, 
M 1 am rather agitated now that the time ia so near at 
hMd^ in Ae prospect of leaving my natif e canntry, my 
family, and friends, and am half incKned to flatter my** 
aelf that I might venture to slay at home. I know my 
father will oppose my goings at least ha will nal Hko 
it, and ifill be very reluctant in giving hia coaseat. 



180 



without whick I shall not go. The more 1 think 
of the voyage, the more my perplexity and agitation 
increases ; every comfort I enjoy pleads for my stay ; 
every friend I possess (and thank God I am rich in 
fnends) seems to bind me to old England. To go, is 
ventnring my little all apon an experiment which may, 
or may not succeed, and a foreign coontry most 
inevitably expose me to many and unforeseen difficulties. 
On the other hand, if a voyage be desirable or necessary 
for my recovery, there are many circumstances attend- 
ing this which make it as pleasant as any voyage can 
be, and I have great reason for thankfulness that I 
shall go out with so many advantages. Whatever be 
the result, I trust with the Divine aid and blessing to 
be able to conform myself to that situation in which a 
wise Providence may place me* I flatCor myself 
with the hope of seeing you. Whether I see you 
or not, my best wishes and most fervent prayers will 
ever be offered for your welfare to Him who is the 
governor alike of sea and land, whose providence pro- 
tects, and whose mercy blesses us, in whatever part of 
his dominions we are." Mr. Goodier finally did not 
aceompany Mr. C. to the West Indies, but in the 
course of a few weeks afterwards, it was decided that 
he should make a voyage to the South of France, and 
continue to reside there for some months ; and this 
plan was eventually put into execntioti. Before he' 
left England, he wrote to several of his friends to bid 
them farewell, as the season was too far advanced to 
permit him to take a personal leave of them. The 
first that remains is to his old friend Mrs. H., and was 
one of the last letters he ever wrote to her. It is par- 



181 

licttlarl j melancholy to peruse the reviving hopes which 
were doomed to he so soon destroyed. 

" Liverpool, December 19, 1817. 

<<My Dear Madam, 

** You were perfectly right in supposing 
that, however hurried, I should never leave my native 
land without first writing to you. Before Mrs. F. 
received your letter, I had appropriated a part of this 
evening to that pleasing task—^pleasing, not because 
-its object is to present my best wishes to one of the 
kindest of friends, and to recommend that friend to 
the protection of a kind Providence, but because these 
wishes will be accompanied with information which I 
know will give you satisfaction equal to the greatness 
and sincerity of your friendship. I have taken a 
passage from this port to Bordeaux in the South of 
France : not as a last eiffbrt of expiring hope, which 
has in vain made trial of all other remedies, but in 
order to accelerate a restoration to health, which is 
already decidedly commenced. I am sure you will 
sympathize in the joy and gratitude I feel, at being 
able to say that I have been gradually improving for 
the last three months, that my fever is almost sub- 
dued; that I have gained three pounds in weight, 
and that my physician and friend. Dr. •'— > this 
. morning declared that time only is necessary to restore 
me to health and strength. Thus you see, my dear 
Mrs. H., that the Divine goodness is causing the light 
to succeed the darkness; the horizon of my 
hopes is extended, and I begin to discover renewed 
prospects of activity and happiness ; already I regard 



182 

:iiqpMlf m 'om *ii4m faM stlmmid'eanpttrsllvviy inn 
and eleTated gromrii, ifttr ttn^f^9g throogli a fatli, 
dark, and difficult, and dangerous. I will not say 
that f lMii% fia aa ul IhrMigli the slough of despon- 
dency, for, at the worst, though I coakl not flatter 
<viifc ^ooovfevy, ^et 1 meYer was without 
and I «Hi pesMaAid, i«hoidd-bsve hape in :deatb. 
To inM ffsaani- to have tmstad 'hi theg^oodiiess af God, 
ivHuM hnt h^Hfm aa iwalianal as iingMleful, finding, 
m^i'bt!f9^\wmfu40D%9 ilhatwben ray proi^ota were 
vast ^loaaiy^ any dnands ^eae moat kind ; the expe- 
sieliaatdr lhalilit||rsaryHi wUch Iheanost geneniaa of 
M^ttdatepaiiaMpaaad *belwetti ^mfe and my impending 
fatfei Engirt ftrover 4o itMnrish ivaaifmaaM thoughts of 
diipiMikuii^, 'Nbvar indeed do I rac<dlaot the time, 
tbail44iafl%'lbutid myaeif in this airy slough, ami if 
tAetegabioils dremnar of Badfopd be oonreet in sfip?- 
ipoiliig'ahatrtds placed fiear Iha commencement of the 
42hrialiaaHBi course itaiMirAi the htwevk^ city, I must 
^omoMe tlmt^iMnte nevaryat entered that coarse; a 
taonalMion»twhBcb wereJMmaatJohn alive, )and knew me, 
te^^iodld And nD diffiSBolty in forming. • « 1 shall sail, 
i eiy s el» An 'two or Ihtee «days for ^^aMteiNS. I shall 
-vtintatarMn. F«,^howi]l ip/ft yaa my address, and I 
shall hope to^aar from yon during myisqjonni amoagat 
4tmngars. S ptopoge litaying dlv« montiw^ at the end 
of whidi, J^tpuat 1 «haU«find youicomparafively well. 
« HI Mrs. F. has bean hettei^ifor the, last ta^onth ithan 
«0Nir 1 4inew>heB. Ms. F. 4fl also aa wall, 4ui usctfhl, and 
•as benevaleijtras usttal, and I trust will long continns 
^flo. ^-^ -Gi^B my ^kindest wisdies to every member of 
y(>iiV'f«m%, and be aflaured> that whenever 1 liim, w^ 



188 

mittd will often be at Hanwood ; and that whether in 
France or England, a sincere jprayer for your welfare 
will frequently ascend from your affectionate^'* &c. 

On the 23rd of December, Mr. Goodier wrote again 
to his father to inform him of the new arrangements he 
had .made respecting the ensuing winter; and this 
letter, in the midst of all his anxijeties and vicissitudes, 
l^reathes a devout spirit of hope and joy. 

'' Waahington Street, December 23, 1817. 
«< D£AB FATHSm, 

'* 1 was aware that the news 1 had to 
commnnicate would not be altogether pleasant; I have 
deferred the communication of it to the last moment. 
1 hope, however, when you consider the circumstances 
of the case folly, you will not be sorry to learn that 
before you receive this letter 1 shall have bid adieu to 
tny native country, and shall be on my way to the 
South of France, in which genial and highly favoured 
climate I intend to spend about five months* • • * 
I must believtt that there can be no objection to my 
voyage, hot what arises rather from feeling than reason- 
ing : it is certainly more pleasant to remain at home^ 
amongst kind and generous friends, than to be exposed 
to the inconveniences of a foreign country, and the 
impositions of strangers. But I have little doubt of 
being comfortable, on the whole, since 1 have several 
letters of introduction and recommendation to some of 
the mercantile houses in Bordeaux. In that neigh- 
bourhood I intend to stay during the first month, and 
as the spring advances, and I can go out with . more 



i84f 

safety, I shall probably go farther towiids the Seoth 
of France, perhaps to MmitpeHer, I bftve no doabt 
that the jonrney will be of essential serrice to ne ; and 
really, after the very tedious illness 1 hare had, I woald 
do any thing in reason, to hasten my restoration to 
health and activity. I haTe taken my passage in an 
excellent yessel, and the captain seems to he a very 
obliging man. I yesterday past the cnstom-honse, and 
expect to sail tOi-morrow morning, after having been 
forced to make oath ihat I have no intention of weaning 
in France. Sinte f saw yoo 1 have received a very 
kind letter from Mr. C— e, in which Mr. R. strongly 
recommends me to ^o as soon as possible to the Sooth 
of France, which soon restored him to health when a 
yoang minister, labouring Kke myself under a con- 
sumptive attack. • • Another inducement to my 
journey is the certain ty of learning, at the fountain 
head, the French kng^iatge, which, if the two countries 
continue at peace, will be no trifling accomplishment, 
and of no inconsiderable Value in after-life* On the 
whole I am going in high spirits, and should be still' 
more cheerful if I knew that yon thoroughly approve 
of the plan. The weather is very fine, the wind 
favourable, the passage generally safe, and I have' no 
doubt of a pleasant voyage. I have gone on gradually 
improving in health since you were here, and begin to 
* feel much less like an invalid. • m \i, therefore^ I 
can avoid taking cold, I have little or no fear but I 
shall progressively improve, and 1 already begin to 
anticipate the pleasure of returning hothe tn health 
and activity. If the Divine goodness grants this 
answer to my prayers, and continues to bless the means 



186 



made use of for my recoverj* I shall think the sacrifice 
of expense and time which thi^ journey requires com- 
paratively trifling. My improvement is already beyond 
what 1 once expected, and I have mnch to be thankful 
for in what is past, much to hope for in what is to 
come* I am sure you will sympathize with me in the 
gratitude I feel, both to the Giver of all good and to 
those generous friends who have been the instruments 
of his benevolencet and who have kindly interposed to 
rescue me from my impending fate. The kindness of 
Mrs. H. is truly ihat of a mother^ and how can I ever 
forget the kindness of the C— es, and my other friends 
in. the Isle of Wight? The review of the year which 
is now drawing to a close fills rae with devout confidence 
and joy : I am sure I shall never want any thing really 
needful* and that aH my apparent calannties will even* 
tually. appear to have been for my good. My best 
wishes and prayers are daily offered for your welfare, 
and for that of my grandmother, my brothers, and 
sister. I wish 1 were able to assist you through the 
difficulties of the times. There is nothing for which 
1 more regret my sickness than the inability it places 
me under of lightening your burdens. Another year 
I trust will shew that I do not live altogether useless. 
You will hear from me as soon as 1 am fairfy settled in 
France, and in the mean time I trust that you will 
believe that all is well with me. God grant it may be 
well with you. I sometimes look on the dark side ; and 
as I shall not return till towards next June, I think of 
the probability there is that some of us may never 
meet again in this world, . My dear grandmother is 
now far beyond the age of three-score years and ten. 



186 



bcfand wUcIb* even strength is weftkness, end little 
Tcnaims but laboar and sorrow. When I took my 
leave of her» she mentioned the likelihood that there 
was, that we should never meet again but in Heaven. 
Should this be the case, 1 am sure the messenger of 
death will not smrprise her unprepared, and I rejoice 
in the thought that it will be to her a messenger of 
peace and of life. Whatever may be the event, I 
hope she will wait all the days of her appointed time 
on earth in patience and faith, remembering me in her 
prayers, and by her example, winning others to the 
practice and love of holiness. My brothers I hope 
will set a guard upon their conduct, and beware of the 
dangers that surround their path ; I have not time to 
write to them more particulariy, but they know what 1 
wish. • * With every good wish, I recommend yon 
all to the care of that jg^ood Providence, who protects 
and blesses us in all countries^ and at all times/ 



»» 



Before Mr. Goodier set sail he wrote a farewell 
letter to his friends at Dokenfield, with whom be had 
formerly resided, and from whom, while in the Isle of 
Wight, he had received the kind ofier of a home in 
his sickness, and at any future time. 

** Washington Street, Deetmher 28, 1817. 

<< My Dear Frieiids, 

** I feel that I should not be doing 
justice to the friendship which has so long subsisted 
between us, and which I trust will terminate only with 
life, if 1 did not employ a little of the leisure which a 
contrary wind has given me, in writing you a few fare- 



M^Oi ^ ^ 



187 

well liB€9. Yoot will |^bfiblj!h^ve. learnt, ^e^his, 
tbat 1 expected to sail pb Thursday :lasf^.lMi^ 4^ sbip, 
was not re^dy ^n that days and ainee tb§o Ae wea4&er; 
has not suffered vs to deparl^ Ii| rfs^^iag- yesterday's, 
paper* I found a long and melaiicliojly list of shipwrecksy 
the crews and passengensi of . w^ioh have^ with few 
escc|)t40BS) been entirely lpst-«*h^d i sailed a week ago, 
as was at first proposed, I might haye shared the fate, 
of these unhappy persons, as many of them were, 
wrecked on the line of coast which we shall pass in, 
going to Bordeaux ; so that I have much to be thankful 
for, in what has appeared for some days, rather <a tedious 
delay. So little do we know what is really good for 
u|i, and so r.eady are we to repinotat events which only 
prove to be blessings in disguise. My father and your 
broAer wowld hear of these shipwreeksi and Sfupposing 
me ^ne, may perhaps be uneasy about me. 1 hope 
yW. will have the goodness to inforaat them as soon aa 
y0« can, .that I am still on Terra Firmu ; though before 
yjou receive this, I $ball probably, have sailed; to^y. 
is fine, my clothes^ &c. have .been on board* several 
days, the wind is now moi^e favourable, so that I shall 
not be surprized if the captain sends forme before, 
night. I have great confidence in the captain and 
crew, in the.goodness. of the v/essel, and above all, in 
the powerful protection of that Providence wbo.ruleth 
both sea and land, who stilleth the noise of the tempest, 
and saith to the stormy winds * be stiil.' I shall go 
therefore lo sea without 'much fear, and I hope my 
friends will not be alarmed on my account, whilst I ant 
there ; the dangers. of the sea are in reality less than 
the dangens of travelling on the top of a stage-coach^ 

Q3 



188 



yet we TeBlare <m the latter without any alarm what- 
ever ; eren were the danger much greater, I should 
▼enture on it without any dread, became I am fully 
couTinced that it is my duty to go to the South of 
Fraoce, or to some similar place, in order to re^-establish 
my health, and restore myself to some degree of use* 
fulness ; and I think you will dl agree with me, that 
when we are in the way of duty, after hsTtng taken 
every necessary precaution to avoid or to overcome the 
dangers that may He before us» we ought to commit our- 
selves, without anxiety, to Him that appointeth our let, 
and in whose hands «re tb9 issues of lif« and death. 
The Apostle Paul, under the influence of Chris^n 
feeling, was persuaded that all things would work together 
for his good, and that neither life nor death could sepa^ 
rate him from the love of God ; and if I could realise 
the same feelittg, . the greatest misfortune that c<Mild 
happen to me in my voyage, * shipwreck itself, would 
give me no undue alarm, and, as good Mr. Howe says, * I 
should embrace the wave^ which, when i meant Bor- 
deaux, should land me in Heaven.' Happy would' it be 
for us, if retaining only sufficient love of life to make us 
enjoy its blessings, and be interested in iU duties, we 
could rise so far above its accidents and misfortunes, as to 
view them merely as so many tests of our virtue, or as 
sp many teachers of wisdom— •and learn to regard death 
itself as the messenger of everlasting life and happi- 
ness. But I am forgetting myself; I did not sit down 
to compose a sermon, but to write a letter. In renew- 
ing my correspondence with you, I feel as if I were 
already beginning to reap some of the blessings of 
health, the want of which has ;80 long suspended our 



'V .- - 



189 

direct intereovvw. To write a letter wae at one time 
a woric of labour and diffiooltyi to be performed only 
in cases of abadate necessity ; henee I wrote bat 
aeldaas, and to tfiosa on wbose Iriendsbip I could rely 
BMst confidently for an ezcose, scarcely erer. Yon 
will not accuse me of flattery, wben I say that amongst 
^is namber I reckoned yon and my kind friends year 
covsins. Wben I reflect, bowerer, tbat I have been 
absent from home a year and a balf^ and that in all 
this time,] have nefef written a single line to either 
family, 1 am sometimes afraid tbat I have perhaps 
reckoned too confidently upon your willingness to make 
excuses for this apparent neglect ; if I have erred in 
this respect, I hope you will forgive me, and beliete it 
to be an error of judgment, not of the heart. > I should 
despise myself, as heartily as you can despise me, if I 
believed myself capable* of sligbting old friends, the 
friends of my youth, when 1 acqfnired new ones» and 
especially, if in enlarging my s|^be#e of acquaintance, I 
could forget the obligations ] owe to such friends as 
you and your cousins, in whose friendship my infancy 
found guardians, in whose exaUkple, whatever was most 
virtuous in me found a patterh for imitation, and in 
whose houses, in a word, I have ever found a welcome 
and a home. Believe me, my dear friends, I have, 
during the last year, experienced too much the worth 
of sincere friendship ever to slight or neglect it; with- 
out it, where, and what should I have now been ?— -it 
has blunted the edge of disease and distress, it has 
taken away from my mind all anxiety, it has furnished 
me with a peaceful and happy asylum at a time when 
i was helpless and almost desponding, and it baa 



190 

iNMbM me sveoeatMly to c^mbiirvriika^i»li«(»$S) tM 
aC one lime tkroalelied to pat «, period ito mjf ^9t^iM:e. 
IM us iheii bercff be faitble«8 to fri^Odshipy it is oae af 
tboae tftroBg' tifls by wUchtheDurino^^iodo^as coaaei$t» 
sai witli bis fellow fnaB> aad leads Us toaiake eofnmAa 
eafse in ea# straggles against Ihe difficulties ef lifei 
its sjrmpatby divideaoair griefiiv and oftnlti^lies^oar bto*^ 
siagi. I •eejoy a' blessing, and nj friend enjogf^s it 
#ith inob I flatter mjrself that yon all anticipate 
with mo; at this titne> the pleasare I sha)i feel five 
montfas hence, at n^tmrning home from Fi:ance^ with 
mf health i^-established^ and myself restored to activity* 
In the mean tkpe, I shall no doubt sf^ tnany new and 
iiltereetialg soeoes, which I shall take care to record 
hit dur. mutual aAiuBement The eveniof ia not far 
diatant^ wben, seated by y^ut comfortable hearth^ I 
shhll «tiJ0y the pleaaatfe of your compady» in travelHtig 
6ver again ihe South of Fffailee» wbieh I shall teeeh 
you how to do> withoilt first running the iMk of ship- 
wre<}k ; with all good • wishes. . I am/- fcc. . 

This was tbeJast letter Mr.Goodtei^ wrote in his native 
eouhtry \ a day or two; after iti. was Writ^n, he sailed, 
and the Jest scenes of hi| bufferings, , and his life, 
were paftt in a land of strangeis. Certainly few persons- 
cduld beimdre iil^d than he wiqs to conciliate kindness 
and affection in such a Jsituation, and to interest even 
indiffevent persons foj^ his comfort and welfare; but it is a 
melancholy thing in sickness and in death, to be bereft 
of the friends we have most loVed^and the sympathy and 
support which are then most wanted ; it is also very 
affecting to cmitetaiplate the contrast between the bright 



191 

hopes and anticipations which at this period he indulged, 
and the great closing trial which awaited him ; he 
departed in good spirits, with the expectation of bene- 
fitting his health ; he had a safe and agreeable voyage, 
and immediately on his arrival, he wrote to his friends 
in Liverpool. 

" The Maria, Bordeaux, January 14, 1818. 

'< Dear Madam, 

<- [ hasten to inform you, and my 
other friends^ of my safe arrival in the desired haven, 
after, on the whole, a pleasant voyage. Several of the 
first days of it were stormy and unpleasant. The 
Sunday after we sailed was extremely boisterc^us ; the 
wind blew directly against us, and the sea broke over 
us every minute.* 1 was unwell and a little alarmed, but 
never lost my confidence in the skill and activity of the 
captain, and more especially in the protection of Him 
who stilleth the noise of the tempest and the storm. 
On the Monday we had fine weather, which continued 
with little intermission the whole week. On the Friday 
night we were near the entrance of Bordeaux river, 
but a thick fog induced the captain to stand out to sea 
till Sunday morning, on account of the dangerous 
navigation. When we got a pilot, I learnt that a 
large French ship had been lost on one of the sand 
banks the day before, by attempting to enter in the 
fog without a pilot, which gave me reason to bless the 
pmdence of our captain, which had prevented a^ 
perhaps, similar catastrophe. On my arrival within a 
mile of the town yesterday, the captain and I went on 
shore, and called on Mr. M., who informed us that the 
Betsey^ which left Liverpool a fortnight before us, or 



more, h«d not jet been keanl of» and it is tappABeci 
she is lost with her whole crew and cargo. What a 
danger hare I escaped 1 and what a striking proof that 
% wise and good Providence often ordains disappoint- 
ments for oar benefit. 

'* The climate is very sensibly milder, and the days 
longer than with yon. Several of the days since we 
approached France have been as warm as our fine days 
in April. • • The surrounding country seems 
pleasant, thoqgh flat, and the appearance of the town 
and harbour is beantifal from the ship. Fogs I under- 
stand are frequent, and on that account I shall not stay 
here long, but go farther sooth. I have been on shore 
twice, and have heard a good deal of the French jargo», 
for so it appears to me at present. The common 
people and the shop-keepers speak a provincial and 
impure kind of French : I can understand them when 
they speak slowly^ and fi^ no difficulty in making 
myself understood. I tax every body I come near, if 
I remain at all in their company, and have no doubt 
of making a rapid progress in the acquirement of the 
language. Evening, ^^l have now seen Mr. 4., and 
found him every thing I could wish : he very politely 
asked me to dine with him, and undertook to enquire 
about lodgings ; he recommends me to stay in town, 
and thinks it quite as healthy as the country. He 
knows a widow lady who has only one lodger, a friend 
of his» and thinks it likely she will accommodate me 
reasonably — ^her kindness be can answer for ; I sbaU 
call to->niorrow when I shall learn something more. 
I. have been highly gratified with the appearai^ee of 
the city. 1 have walked two or three mil^a, and have 



193 

foatid the streets wide and planted witfa trees, so that 
yoa walk without danger of loterraptioa by carta and 
horses : this is the case only in the principal streets. 
1 have also visited a pobfic garden, the hyde-pai^ of 
B<Nrdeattx, except that it is reserved for foot passengers 
only. The day has turned out fide and ctear, and 
vrarm^ and crowds of ladies and gentlemen, nurse- 
maids and children, beaus and beggars, were collected 
to amuse themselves in the various aveuues and wallts 
of the place, which in summer must be charming. 
A few of the ladies are handsome and elegantly dressed, 
bat the servants and hucksters^ and common peopU, 
make a grotesque appearance, and by their coarse, 
supeF-mascnUoe, yellow, countenances, made me und<ir- 
staad perfectly the reason of the appellation < Lanca- 
shire Witches,' so often given to the damsels of my* 
native country. If the women of Bordeaux be a fair 
specimen of the females of France, certainly they have 
no right to the title of * the fair sex ; * most df thiem 
have their heads bound 'up with striped handkerchiefs 
iff glaring colours, giving to the stranger an idea that 
they have got sore heads ; and their feet are buried in 
large wooden clogs, chosen without any regard to fitting,' 
crammed with old flannel, and strapped upon the foot 
with a large leather thong. Their caps are also tre- 
mendotis, (for some of ihtih wear caps) rising above 
the head from one foot to half-a-yard or near it, ap- 
parently of the consistency of thin buckram. On one 
side is exposed a large pocket, which to me seems 
ugly, but if utility be the test of beauty, they must be 
termed beautiful. The whole appearance of the women 
in general, indicates a want of ^neatness^ and a disposi^^ 



194 

tioB to sacrifice canvenience to show. So much for the 
csUrior of the people ; now for their chtractor* As 
£ur as I oiay judge from the very little I hare seen of 
manaers* it woald be foolish and presiunptaoas to form 
sweeping conclusions* All is ootwardly decent. In a 
street thronged almost with people, I obsenred aatand- 
ing of trinkets, walking^sticksy &c» without any one to 
attend it sitting near; every article was marked, and 
purchasers were directed by a label to addroM them- 
sdves to the owner of a ship, at least thirty yards 
distant • • 1 am happy to be able to say that I 
am pretty well in heslth. I hare caught a little cold, 
which makes me rather feverish and inclined to cough. 
My rheumatic thigh has a)so been very painful fn- 
some days, and makes me very lame : for the rest I am 
much. as usual.*' 

Immediately after his arrival, Mr. Goodier com* 
meaced a journal, which, with some intervals, he con** 
tinued until very near the period of his death. As it 
contains an interesting account of the first impressions 
he received of a foreign country, and a faithful record 
of his time and pursuits in his sickness and solitude, 
and more especially as it msy be considered as an 
additional evidence of the piety and trust which never 
forsook him, some extractsr are presented from it. 

*' January 17th— 'Saturday night. I am now, through 
the providence of Almighty God, safely arrived at 
Bordeaux— the desired haven. Almost every object I 
see is novel, and most of what I hear is unintelligibie, 
although I understand pretty well the theory of die 



195 

Pvench language. 1 wish to regard every thing with 
the eye of a careful and impartial observer; to catch 
the manners living as they rise ; to study mofi as he is, 
or appears to be, in the picture of real life, and to 
record each day, what may gratify the cariosity of my 
dear friends in England, or contribute to my own 
improvement. I am especially desirous of forming, as 
far as my own observation, or the information of 
respectable friends, will permit, an impartial opinion 
of the moral and religious character of the natives of 
France; a subject so interesting to the friends of 
religion, and on which it is so difficult to procure exact 
information. It is difficult for a stranger accustomed to 
the manners of one country only, and esteeming it 
a duty almost to regard those manners as superior to 
all others^ to divest himself of national prejudices in 
judging of the manners of foreigners; and he is often 
in danger of ascribing that to a want of moral and 
religious principles, which ought rather to be attributed 
to the influence of national customs. Thus, if a serious 
Englishman were to judge of the religious character 
of the French, from their manner of spending the 
I^mrd's day, he would be inclined at first to condemn 
them as devoid of religious feeling; his conclusion 
mi|cht be a just one, for any thing I know yet to the 
contrary, but derived from such premises only, it would 
be just merely by accident. True religion consists not 
•in the observance of days, but in piety, and in righteous- 
mess ; if the French are just and honest in their dealings 
with each other, benevolent and kind in their social 
intercourse, and devout in their addresses to heaven, 
they must not be condemned because one half of the 

R 



m 

Sanday is generally devoted to sport a&d gaiety, and 
its eveDing to theatrical atid other publrc isiteiisd5iLeDts. 
It may be presumed that the regtilar attendants upon 
pabliG worship do not frequent the theatre, atid It is to 
be lamented, that in all countries there is a large majb^ 
rity who neglect the public ordinances of religion, ^nd 
who, if not hindered by the magistrate, would be glad 
to visit the play-house even on S^unday night. l¥ith 
regard to sports, dancing, &c., let it be rememb^^d, 
that religion is no enemy to cheerfulness, nor even to 
innocent gaiety, and that gaiety may be inndcent even 
on the Lord^s day, else never would the pious Calvin 
have reserved a part of that day for games at cricket, 
of which he was remarkably fond. Let it not be supposed 
that I am a friend to this mode of spending the Sunday, 
I am merely pointing out the rashness and injustice of 
concluding that our Gallic neighbours 'have no religion, 
merely on this account. 

*' A surer method of forming a corntct opiiiitin on 
this subject, will be to consider all th<!«e manners and 
customs which are connected with religions pHiieiples 
as a whole. To regard attentively the behaviour' and 
conversation of the different classes of society ; to lay 
hold especially of that part of a man's character, which 
is most likely to have been formed by public opinion ; 
for as the character of a multitude of individuals forms 
that of the public, so the character of the public 
moulds in some measure that of individuals ; to examine 
the nature of public institutions ; to read the most 
popular books ; to see what description of authors fill* 
the shelves of the most respectable libraries, or forin 
the collections of booksellers, stall-keepers, ai^ itide- 



197 

rants ; to peruse the records of public justice^ and 
learn the number and nature of the crimes which 
engage its attention; aud lastly to visit the house of 
God» and mark the number and behaviour of its atten- 
dants ; for we may lay it down as an incontrovertible 
maximy that a reverence for religion will produce a cor- 
respondent regard to public worship, at least in Chris- 
tian countries. Is religion the object of open ridicule 
for one part of spciety, and supposed by the other, to 
consist chiefly in ceremonies ? Is the sacred and vene- 
rable name of the Creator generally profaned in common 
conversation ? Does the national gaiety of Frenchmen 
degenerate into frivolity and licentiousness ? Has the 
8{»rit of war* auji love of glory unhappily engendered 
t»y lh(^ tfsrrible yet wonderful ponaparte, extin- 
gaiahed the love of justice and peace ? Are the 
French bpnes^ in their dealings, and does their 
proverbial politeness arise from sincere benevolence of 
.heart ? These, and similar to these, are the inquiries 
which 1 shall endeavour to keep continually in view. 
If their behaviour be kind, I shall not quarrel with 
them about tbefar costume, or their gestures ; if gaiety 
•be i^no^Ri, I sh^U not be angry that it appears even 
on the Lord's day* in rags and wooden shoes ; if their 
pi^ty be sincere, I shall not respect it the less, because it 
adopts a form . and a language different from my own. 
1 aw incUned to think well of the French, and of all 
ooianl^ind, because I admire and love human nature, and 
If^ng; to see it universally connected with virtue and 
bpUness ; sincerely shall I regret to find that the opinion 
of French character so prevalent on our side the 
fim^uei is a correct one. I have always hoped, that 



198 

It was an opinion, dictated rather by political animosity 
than impartial justice. If I find myself mistaken, I 
shall be disposed to' recollect the influence of a twenty- 
eight years* almost uninterrupted war, and especially 
of a corrupt system of religion, which almost abolishes 
Christianity, to make room for tradition ; which robs 
the Christian of his noblest privilege — ^the right of 
private judgment ; and which metamorphoses piety 
into a blind and abject servility to human authority. 
Considering this^ 1 shall be as much inclined to pity 
as to blame. * 

** But I do not intend to confine this diary merely to 
facts and reflections connected with public character. 
1 shall also make it a personal history of my stay in 
France. I shall record in it any thing that occurs to 
me of suflicient interest, to merit insertion ; and what 
is not interesting that concerns our dear selves ? I shall 
insert my daily occupations ; descriptions of the various 
places I visit ; characters of the principal: persons I 
meet with, and any thing else which may answer my 
leading objects ; amusement for my friends, and instrue- 
tion for myself, particularly extracts from the books I 
may peruse, which will in general beFVench. 1 trust 
that by a careful attention to these things, my journey 
to France will be useful to my head and heart, aa w«ll 
as to my health ; and if through the Divine blessing 
I again recover my strength, I hope that from baving 
perused a new page in the book of human life, I shall 
be the better able to instruct my fellow»man in his 
duties and expectations ; better prepared to * point to 
heaven, and lead the way.^ 

" * To forget our dangers, is to forget our mercies/ 



f 



199 

says the eloquent Robert Hall ; to which I shall add^ 
to forget our mercies is to forget our duties. On this 
account I shall go back to the commencement of my 
voyage^ which has been mercifully brought to a safe 
termination. After having been once obliged to return 
to Liverpool by bad weather, I came on board a second 
time, about one o'clock on Thursday night, the 1st 
instant, and immediately went to bed, where I remained 
till near eleven next morning. The weather cold and 
unsettled ; the wind favourable but rather too strong. 
1 anticipated an unpleasant, voyage ; but as I was 
satisfied that I had done right in determining to come 
hither, I endeavoured to refer myself and all my con- 
cerns to the Great Disposer of events. The following 
night we doubled Holyhead, and a little before sunset 
had a fine view of the Isle of Anglesey and the Welsh 
mountains^ which were covered with snow. The 
horizon was black and cloudy, except when the sun 
shone through. The sea was running very high, anct 
there was a prospect of a stormy night, but as the 
wind was favourable we were the less alarmed. The 
weather turned out as we expected, and while rocking 
in my birth^ and hearing the roaring of the winds and 
waves, a varied mixture of reflections, on the great 
power of Him who ^ rideth on the whirlwind and direct- 
eth the storm,' on the ingenuity of man who could 
construct ships that would bear him safely even in 
weather like this, on the hardships of a sailor's life, 
who in the longest and most tempestuous night of 
winter, must brave the united fury of the elements at 
the hazard of- his existence^ on the insecurity of 
human Me in such situations, and on the safety and 

rS 






200 

happiness of my friends on sbore who were snag in 
their beds, occupied my mind the whole night, and 
entirely drove away sleep. The same weather continoed 
the following day, and on Sunday was rendered stiU 
woi^ by the wind shifting round and coming directly 
against us. The night was to me almost dreadful, and 
would have been so altogether, had it not been for my 
religion, which in the midst of confusion whispered 
peace. The poor captain and crew were hard at work 
M night, without a dry thread upon them, and with 
the additional mortification of reflecting that every 
moment carried us farther from our intended destination. 
Early, however^ on the Monday morning, the wind 
abated, and gave us time to breathe. I was very un- 
well, as 1 had eaten but little^ and slept scarcely any. 
My sleep was distinguished only from my waking hours^ 
■by my dreams, which were generally of an unpleasant 
nature. In the course of the day, the improvement in 
weather improved the state of my feelings, and as I 
was not disposed to read, and writing was impracticable 
from the rolling of the ship, I amused myself with the 
captain^s violin. This continued to be a scource of 
amusement the succeeding days, during which, the 
weather continued to improve, and as 1 could spend 
some time each day on deck, and in reading, I did not 
find the hours irksome, and began to think there might 
be pleasure at sea, though confined in a floating prisop, 
where, to (he usual horrors of confinement, is added 
the danger of being drowned, as Dr. Johnson some<- 
where defines a ship. The captain was attentive and 
kind, and the steward was obliging and obedient.-^ 
From the former I learnt a little navigation, and with 



SOI 



the latter conversed about his family, so that the time 
past swiftly on till Friday mornings, when we fell in 
with a fine Swedish bri|^, bound like ourselves to 
Bordeaiix, the master of which requested our company. 
In the evenings we discovered the celebrated light*house 
of Cordonao, which stands on a dangerous ledge of 
rocks, at the entrance of the river Garonne. The 
mouth of this river is peculiarly dangerous on account 
of rocks and banks of sand^ and as it was too late to get 
a Pilot the captain stood out again to sea, for fear of 
running ashore in the night. The next morning a 
thick fog came on, which prevented us from seeing th^ 
land, though according to reckoning, we could not be 
more than twenty miles distance. I'his again induce^ 
our captain to keep out to sea, as the best security 
till the weather should clear up, which happily it did 
on the Sunday morning. We fired a small cannon as 
a signal for a Pilot, and about nine o'clock, hsid the 
pleasure of perceiving several of iheir boats eome out 
to noeet us. About half-past nine I went on deck, 
and had a first view of the coast of that country, which 
for so long a time has engaged the attention and excited 
the astonishment of the civilized world, and been the 
theatre of events which will fill some of the most in- 
teresting and instructive pages in the history of man. 
The country on the right was low, and fiat, and sandy ; 
oa the left a littk varied by small hills^ and woods, 
and villages, which, with their white houses and church 
spires, had rather a cheerful appearance. Our Pilot 
was an elderly, rough, healthy-looking Frenchman, 
who knew a few words only of English. I accosted 
him as well as I could in French, and was pleased to 



202 

find that I had no difficoly in making him andersland 
me» though I was sorry that almost all he said to me 
was anintelligible, on account of the rapidity of his 
speaking. This I still find to be the case generally 
with those I hear. I however contrired to learu that 
he was a good Catholic, who went to church every Sun- 
day» as did also the majority of his neighbours. 1 
found, moreover* that on the most trivial occasions he 
did not scruple to swear both in English and French. 
The poor people in general, he said, could read ; he, 
however, was an exception, as 1 discovered on shewing 
him a French book. 

** Sunday evening — ^January 20th. As soon as we 
had entered the river we were boarded by the lieutenant 
of a vessel belonging to the customs, an agreeable 
looking young man, who spoke English much better 
than the Pilot, and who behaved in the politest man- 
ner. I conversed with him chic'fiy in French, and he 
was kind enough to speak very stow}y-*-*to read for me 
and hear me read, and to assist me in all his power, 
which 1 repaid by similar assistance in English. He 
had been a prisoner of war two years at Bridgnorth 
in Shropshire, and seemed very happy that he could 
now accost us as friends. He pointed out two small 
rising grounds, one on each side of the river, which 
he said in time of war had been fortified with cannon 
* for to fire at your ships,' but now, be added, we are 
at peaee--all friends ; and to shew his friendship, he 
gave us some fine apples from his own garden. ' J*espere 
que nous le soyens longtems,* said I. ' li est fort a 
esperer,' was his reply. The spirit of the warrior 
seemed to have given place to the suavity of the gentle^ 



20S 



man, and I heartily regretted bis departure, which 
took place in about an hour after his arrival. Had our 
goyernments been at war, thought \, all this politeness, 
dictated as it seems by nature^ would have been trans- 
formed, and this same man would have felt it his duty 
to sink our ship and cut our throats, if possible. * II 
est fort d esperer ;* It is much to be hoped truly that 
we shall long remain at peace. This officer informed 
us, that on the night before, a large French ship of 
three hundred tons, laden with a rich cargo of West 
Indian produce, had been wrecked at the entrance of 
the river oh a sand bank^ upon which she had run 
during the. fog. How thankful did I feel that through 
the prudence of our captain, we had probably escaped 
a similar fate. We proceeded slowly up the river till 
near nine at night, when we anchored, and soon after 
went to bed. At five on Monday morning, the ship 
was again under weigh, and at eight we anchored op- 
posite Pouillac, a small town above half way up the 
river. Pouillac seemed from the ship to be a neat, 
cheerful, well-built ' village ; houses generally white^ 
which I found was the natural colour of the material 
with which they are built ; a soft kind of chalk stone, 
which hardens by exposure to the weather. Here for 
the first time I landed on French ground, and had a 
glimpse of French dress and manners ; nei.ther were 
prepossessing ; both men and women seemed slovenly, 
Hitd a gr^at man^ of them were idling about the streets. 
The men, with coverings for the head, varying in every 
form from the grenadier^s cap to a woollen nightcap 
of every colour, were smoking and laughing and 
gaping. The women, some with frightful invetted 



!^ 



pyniinids of thin buckram on their heads, railed 
(I aappose) caps, and others with purty-rolonred hand- 
kerchiefilf tied in the form of a turban, were nursing 
their chil<)ren in the open air, or sewing at their doors; 
and with their swarthy complexion and wooden shoes » 
Btfide a grotesque appearance. I asked our Pilot if it 
wsre a holiday ; < No,' said he, * but yesterday was 
S^day.' * Ce fut le f^te de Dimanche le jour pass^.' 
The next morning we arrived within a mile of the city 
of Bordeaux, and the captain and I went ashore to 
view a little of the place. 

** Jwuary 15th. In returning, I amused . myself 
by walking in the public garden of the city, which is 
a fine promenade for the inhabitaj^ts, of which many 
of \h9V$ were enjoying the advantage. It wa/t quite as 
Wirm as was {feasant fojc walkiogt and every thing had 
an air of cheer fi^lness.. The g^r^en is separated into 
broad avenues by rows of fii^e trees, which, with their 
foliage and shade, must render it beautiful in summer, 
tfa^ough it if inferior to Kejosington. Iq the evening 
I visited the exchange, which was crowded by merchants 
of all nations and religions ; here the J^w, Mahometan, 
and Christian, were united, find the East Indian, the 
Turk, the Persian, and American, were met fyr the 
purposes of commerce ; it ipas an interesting sight, 
and I could not but regard the murmur of various lan- 
guages, confused as the jargon of Babylon, yet having 
the same object, as an expressive tribute to the Genius 
of peace apd comiperce. In returnipg I examined several 
book -stalls, and found them chiefly covered with light 
reding ; novels, plays, jest books, abridgements, and 
pa#>phlets occasioned by passing events. I asked for 



205 

a prayer-book, but coold not get one, and I have since 
learnt that it is diflStalt to meet with a bible at tite 
common stationers ! Unhappily I staid out tooltjihg, 
and was forced to wait some time before I could get a 
boat to return on board, in consequence of which,'!' 
increased a trifling cold I had before caught, and more 
than doubled my cough. 

« January 16th. I breakfasted with Mt. M;, who 
after breakfast introduced me to a commercial reading- 
room, at the Hotelle d* Angleterre, belonging to ' the 
English and American gentlemen resident in the town, 
and to which each subscriber may introduce a friend 
gratis for a month. The daily papers of France are 
here taken in, and the Courier from England. 'Die 
Mayor and Pref^t of the city, forbid the introduction 
of the MomiDg Chronicle, and of any of the American 
papers ! ^o much for the liberty of reading ! However, 
these precautions are as useless as they are foolish ; 
several of the other papers extract the most interesting 
parts of the Chronicle, and American merchants lend 
their most important papers. I was presented with an 
admission ticket, and have several times been gratified 
by reading the papers of my country, and shocked by 
hearing the blasphemous language of my countrymen, 
several of whom swear most dreadfully in their com- 
mon conversation. Certainly, whatever the French 
may think of religion^ they do not trifle with the 
sacred name of its great object, half so much as the 
English who reside amongst them. 

'< Saturday was half spent in walking, and a vain 
search after lodgings, and half in reading and Writing^. 

« Sunday was rainy and cold, which prevett)(ed me 



d06 



from going to the Protestant church as I had intended $ 
this was a great disappointment to me, as the minister 
of one of the churches is said to be a very pious man, 
and eloquent preacher ; he was educated at Geneva^ 
and when I can speak French a little better 1 hope to 
be introduced to him. There are two Protestant 
churches in town, and at Montauban is a large and 
flourishing establishment, for the education of Protes- 
tant clergy, at which are from sixty to eighty students. 
They are described as Calvinists, but I am yet very 
imperfectly acquainted with them. The English have 
no separate place of worship ; so that many English 
and Irish families of the establishment, who do not 
understand French, are entirely deprived of the advan- 
tages of public worship ; an evil which ought to be 
remedied, and which deserves the interference of our 
government. 

'' Monday — lanuary 19th, was again fine, and in the 
morning I called upon Mr. J. to inquire about lodgings; 
he told me that he had a relation in the country, to 
whom he had written, and who had promised to take 
me into their family upon his recommendation, if upon 
seeing the place, 1 should like it. He offered to take 
me out in his barouche the following day, and pledged 
himself for the kindness and general character of the 
people. 

*< Tuesday morning. I rose at nine^ after passing an 
almost sleepless night in consequence of my cough ; at 
twelve I called on Mr. J., and was introduced to his 
lady and family ; she accompanied us, and we set off 
to the westward ; we passed through a large square of 
the city, called La Place Dauphine, which was the 



207 

scene of upwards of four hnndced bloody executions 
daring tbe revolaiioo* There are many still living in 
Bordeaux who were witnesses, of ^hese outrages. The 
guillotine is still used in public executioBS. hi « Further 
on.lbe way, when we got in|o the eouatry* I was amused 
by seeing the French mode of washing their clothes ; 
eight or ten washerwomen were collected by the side 
of a stream of water, each furnished with a large tub 
and a small bench or stool ; instead of putting her 
clothes into the tub, each woman, after fixing it in the 
stream, got into it hemelf, and with her stool attached 
to the side of it by two legs, she was first sousing her 
clothes into the stream, and then beating and rubbing 
them upon the stool with an instrument in her hand 
something like a small bat. This mode I understand 
soon wears out the clothes, but makes tbe linen and 
cotton shirts very white,, as the water is continually 
renewed and is therefore continually clean. 

** The country was very flat, and therefore, as to 
scenery, tame and uninteresting^ The soil is generally 
sandy, very favourable for the vine, which is planted in 
every direction, but totally unfit for every sort of corn, 
except perhaps a little rye. To an Englishman every 
thing looks strange ; the vines^ with their supporting 
rods, may remind him of the hops of his own country, 
but the resemblance here ceases. The houses of the 
labourers are only one story, and in but few instances 
are they surrounded by a garden of flowers. The 
gentlemen's houses are heavy in appearance, and are 
generally fronted by a very lofty court gate, like some 
of our oldest farm houses. The country is pretty well 
wooded, but there are few full-grown trees, as they are 

' S 



208 



generally cut down each ten years for fuel. I afrired 
at our place of destination, and was pleased with almost 
every thing I saw. I determined therefore to come and 
take up my abode with them for a few weeks ; at all 
events 1 have a fair prospect of comfort. The family 
speak both French and English, and will be happy to 
assist me in the acquirement of the former. In returning, 
I enquired into Mr. and Mrs. J.'s opinion of the French ; 
They have lived here many years, and are likely to 
know them better than strangers, who pay only a flying 
visit. They said that the long wars and great political 
commotions of France have had a bad effect upon the 
morals of the people ; but that naturally there was 
amongst them a great deal of sobriety and temperance, 
of honesty and humanity. Drunkards and cheats are 
seldom found amongst the poor; and as for their 
humanity, nothing could have exceeded it when Lord 
Wellington took possession of the city of Bordeaux^ 
and brought in the train of his victorious army, crowds 
of wounded and half-starved Spaniards, Portugueze, 
and English soldiers. Many of their victims of war 
must have perished, had not the voluntary kindnesis of 
the common peasants rescued them from their fate. 
Poor as these peasants were, they gave up their food 
and their clothing to these their more unfortunate 
fellow-creatures. They cut up their own shirts to 
make bandages and plasters for their wounds ; they 
fed them and dressed them with their own hands ; and 
this without any command^ except that of charity, or 
any prospect of reward, except that promised to every 
Christian, by him who has said, that * Inasmuch ye 
have done it unto these my brethren, ye have done it 



209 

unto me.' There is also a class of youD^^ women at 
Bordeaux, and I believe at other towns, which, though 
it is perhaps in part to be attributed to the erroneous 
opinions of Popery, may ferve to ilhistrate the 
humanity of the French. This class, whose name I 
forget,* devote themselves for a certain number of 
years, and many of them for life, to attend the public 
hospitals, as nurses for the sick. The most malignant 
fevers do not deter them from their labours of love, 
and their benevolence is even stronger than death, for 
though some of them fail a sacrifice to it, others still 
arise to fill up their places. Their dress is peculiar, 
and- they seem in every respect like a religious order. 
I record these traits of humanity with lively pleasure, 
for while they illustrate and save the character of a 
nation, they also adorn and beautify our common nature. 
At dinn<ir and in the evening we were highly gratified 
with, the company of a young and intelligent French- 
man, a half-pay officer who had been a lieutenant in 
the army of Bonaparte, and was member of the legion 
of honour. He was an enthusiast in the cause of 
Bonaparte, though not blind to his faults. He had 
fought his way from the ranks — had been in the battle 
of Marengo, in the battles of Spain, and lastly in the 
battle of Waterloo. When Bonaparte was his theme, 
he was inexhaustible in eloquence, in animation and 
gesture ; he was all spirit, all fire ; and in the style of 
a complete Frenchman, whose whole soul was wrapt up 
in the present moment, he related. the most interesting 
anecdotes of the Commander in chief and the other 
Generals of France. His contempt for the present 

* The "SoeursGris." 



910 



officers of the army was witliottt bounds ; three-^fonibs 
of them he declared knew no more aboat commandiiig 
an army, than he knew about planting^ cabbages ; and 
were they to be called out to actire senrice, their men 
would not follow them. He allowed that Louis XVIIf. 
was a well-meaning: man, but we do not want (said he) 
merely a good man, he must be also a brate one* 
He was an admirer of the English— the only enemy of 
the French, worthy of them, and disposed to do them 
justice. He paid some high compUments to the Scotch, 
* who wear short petticoats,' and whom he described as 
the best troops in the En|;lish senice. He insisted 
that Bonaparte had been betrayed, at Waterloo, as well 
as by Marmont at Paris. The messenger (he said) 
who had been sent to Marshal Grouchy, with orders 
to join the main army in time for the battle, had gone 
directly to Blucher's head quarters, and gi^n up his 
dispatches ; by which treason, Grotichy, who was- ex** 
pected every moment by the French, never arrived ; 
and the Prussians were enabled to come upon thrai at 
the critical moment when, after having performed 
prodigies of valour, they were exhausted with fatigue 
and compelled to give way. He related an anecdote 
of the Imperial Guards, who distinguished themselves 
so much on that eventful day, which, as it is well 
authenticated, will faereafter be recorded in history as 
a striking proof of heroism. They were surrounded 
on every side by their enemies, who were ready to 
devour them like beasts of prey. Many of them were 
already weltering in their blood, and there was no hope 
of escaping death but by surrendering themselves 
prisoners. Their General, who saw their danger and 



211 



was grieved that such noble troops shoold perish, sent 
orders to their commanding officer to save the lives of 
his men by yielding themselves to (he enemy. His 
answer, which was applauded by all the guard was, 
* The Imperial Guard of France know how to die^ but 
not to yield,* and with this sentiment, they disputed 
every inch of ground against an overwhelming force, 
and were almost entirely cut off. Such indeed, said 
our officer, was the devotion of the French army to 
Bonaparte, that they would have risked their lives for 
him sooner than for father or mother ; and were he 
now to return, seven-tights of them would again enrol 
themselves under his standard, and follow him to death 
or glory. 

** Saturday evening— January 31. Wednesday was 
kept up as a day of public mourning, on account of 
the death of Louis XVI. His memory is honoured as 
that of a Martyr J and in a religious office appointed 
for the day, he is, like our Charles, distinguished by 
that title. There was public worship in all the churches, 
and in the two Protestant temples (as they are here 
called). By a prudent ordonnanccy which is creditable 
to its author, the present Monarch had forbidden all 
preaching or eulogizing on the occasion, and confined 
the ministers to a simple reading of the testament of 
the unhappy Louis. Almost all the inhabitants were 
in mourning, and white flags fringed with black were 
hung from almost every house. The theatres, open on 
Sunday evenings, were closed on this, and every ex* 
ternal mark of sorrow was manifested. I employed 
the day in removing to my lodgings in the country, 
and I have remained here ever since, secluded from the 

S3 



2H 

world, busily engaged in studying French, and in the 
acqnirement of health, ahnost withont variety, eicepc 
what ray very limited walks in a country, flat, bat welf 
wooded, will allow, yet as eomfortable as very rainy 
weather will permit. I foresee that the place will 
afford few observations or events for my diary ; in the 
coarse of the ten days I have been here, I have, hot^- 
ever, marked some traits of honesty in the sorronnding 
peasantry which I shall record. These traits do not 
consist in individual aets so mnch as in customs ; the 
former wonld only prove the honesty of individuals, 
the latter indicates that of the community at large. 
1 shall first mention a custom which prevails in towns ; 
I mean that of leaving the keys in the doors of inner 
rooms day and night. I speak of lodging houses in 
particular. Mrs. M. had several French servants, yet 
1 found that all her lodgers' left their doors unlocked 
day and night with the key oirtside. * A}\ the people 
here,* said Mrs. M., * are honest ;' meaning by here, 
Bordeaux. 

** In walking throogh the ^ll^e de Joumy, which, is 
quite a public street, I perceived a stall of walking- 
sticks, trinkets, &c. without any one to guard it^ and 
apparently exposed to the depredations of every dis- 
honest passenger ; a label afiixed directed purchasers 
to address themselves to the owner of a shop opposite. 
1 one day stopped a considerable time at this stall, 
took up a variety of canes, and particularly observed 
that there was no one in the shop to watch' my opera- 
tions, or to come out and serve me. Does not this 
indicate the honesty of (depopulation at large .f^ In 
the surrounding country I frequently see hedges of a 



ns 

quarter of a mil« in leng'th, at a eonsiderdbJe distanVre 
from any house, and where of courU^ piiif^ng: wotikt 
be easy, covered with clothes to diy* [u our d&ily 
walks we hare seterafl times called at th€l deighhduHng 
hodbes, ivfaich we hki^ found open, but deserted by 
their inhabitants #ho Were gone odt to la()6uK Ohe of 
these houses is an elegatit country i^eat, 'built d la 
Francoises beloDgitg to a rich Jew, tti 'i\i6 front 
room is an elegant collection of picture's, Und a pretty 
well-ftrfiri^hed green-house, where for the first time in 
my life, I s(iw oranges gfowitig on the trees. 1 his hbuse 
we one day e3famined carefully, passing at Oilr leisore 
through the frOnt rooms, without any df the family 
making their appearance, and without Mr. A. 's appear- 
ing to expect it. Public confidence implies general 
honesty. In hopes of hearing a Freildi sermon, I 
went to the Catholic church of the village, but was 
disappointed in finding that thesermbn was destined for 
the evening service. I found a numerous and appariently 
devout congregation assembled to hear mass ; not 
comfortably seated in family pews as with us, but 
almost all the men standing near the entrance of the 
church, and the women seated on' small moveable 
chairs, for which they pay something each Sifbday. 
Many, who w^re unable or unwilling to hir^ chairs, 
were kneeling upon the cold tiled floor. This was the 
first time 1 had ever attended the celebration of mass, 
and I was surprised and grieved to see the round of 
useless and even ridiculous ceremonies, aiid to hear the 
unintelligible chantings, of which the whok service 
was composed. Could I have abstracted myself from 
every thing whitn' bad occurred pi'evious to my entrance 



214 



into the church, I could easily have imagined myself 
in an idolator*8 temple, so numerous were the prostra- 
tions to the images of Christ, the altar, and the host. 
To compare what I saw with the instructions in the 
New Testament, shews in a striking manner the cor- 
ruption of Christian doctrine which still prevails, and 
which blinds the understanding of a vast majority of 
the Christian world. I felt myself almost over-powered 
with the reflection whilst witnessing the devotion of 
these poor people, most of whom^ like myself, did not 
understand a word of the service, which was chaunted, 
partly by the priest and partly by four or five singing 
boys and men. J could not help praying earnestly for 
the overthrow of anti-christ and the establishment of 
Divine truth. How happy should I be to become a 
humble instrument in the hands of God, of introducing 
the simplicity of Christian doctrine amongst the vast 
population of France ; but 1 fear the time is not yet 
come. Happy am I in having been born a native of 
England. 

*• ^'unday evening — February 15. Since writing the 
above, I have seen and heard little or nothing ; each 
day is the copy of the preceding, and my life is 
absolutely without varfety. The weather has been on 
the whole very bad, often not permitting me to take a 
walk ; and though I have been here twenty days, my 
health I fear is but little improved. I am assiduous 
in my study of French, and make some progress- 
Mr. A. says an astonishing progress. 1 feel much the 
want of public worship, and cannot but deplore the 
manner in which many of the peasants spend the 
Lord's day. Hard at work on all the other days of 



&15 



tfie Week, on this they are devMed to idleileis and 
aimnenient. Amusement, if innocent, 1 dionid not 
blame, but they take their gans and their dogs and 
scour the fields and woods after the harmless' birds, 
and spread misery amongst the poor animals, whilst 
they demoralize themselves. The least miscfaieyous 
part of this day is the evening, which is spenit in 
dancing. But poor things! what can they do?>— » 
Religion as it appears here can have no charms for 
them ; the beauties of literature and the pleasures of 
taste, are alike equally strangers to them ; and it is no 
wonder that the mind, active and impatient of indolence, 
leads them to the sports of the field and dance. Happy 
is it for them that they do not, like too many of my 
countrymen, degrade themselves on this day below the 
lovel of the belists, by intoxication^ 

" Through the providence of God, I have, many 
resources in myself and in my books, but still I find 
the want of public worship to give energy and liveliness 
to devotion. « * I long already for the day when 
with renewed health I can return Co my dear friends, 
and join with them in the pure worship of On^ God 

the Father. 

« 

** Monday evening— March 23. The long chasm in 
my diary is only a proof of the unvaried nature of my 
occupations and my enjoyments, with two or three 
elceptioiis, the history of a day will be the history of 
-the last month. The exceptions have been uceasioned 
by two visits 1 have paid. * I went for the purpose 
of going to the Protestant cburch*^l had heard much 
of one of U)«) ministers, M. Chesii^re, and I was 
happy to find that all my expectations were exceeded 



216 



by the pleasure I had in heariog him. He spoke in 
general very distinctly, so that 1 understood him with 
comparatiTe ease — his sermon was animated, eloquent, 
pathetic — his elocution, forcible, and manly — his action 
in general graceful, though to an English taste, rather 
too theatrical-o-he had felt the force of Horace's 
maxim, si tfis me fiere ftendum est tibit and in one of 
the most powerful and pathetic appeals to the conscienci^s 
of his hearers I ever heard, his tears bore witness to 
the sincerity of his heart, and melted the hearts of a 
large proportion of his auditors. I had the pleasure 
of being introduced to him the day after, and hope to 
enjoy his company again. The church, which was 
formerly a Catholic one, and which was granted to the 
Protestants by the government, will hold about one 
thousand people, and like most of the Catholic churches, 
is furnished with chairs for seats, it was filled by an 
attentire and respectable congregation, amongst whom, 
the rich and poor were mingled without distinction. 
The psalmody was very inferior to our own. • • « 
I was so highly gratified with the service of the 15th, 
that I was determined to go again on the 22nd, Easter 
day, which is observed here with much more solemnity 
than with us. The church was crowded almost to 
excess — the sermon on the last scenes of Christ's life, 
though unequal to that of last Sunday, was still truly 
excellent, and in its conclusion grand. The Lord's 
supper was celebrated afterwards, and I was delighted 
to see so many communicants of all ages and of both 
sexes, as well as with the solemnity which prevailed 
throughout the whole service. When the service had 
been read which is appointed for the occasion, the 



217 

minister placed himself before the table ; at his side 
was another minister or friend to assist him ; after 
remaining^ about five minutes in mental prayer, about 
three hundred communicants, beginning with the 
elders and deacons of the church, presented themselves 
in pairs before the table, and the minister^ repeating 
some text of Scripture, presented them the bread and 
wine, and after having received, it they made way fer 
others, who were served in the same manner, and 
returned to their chairs. I was happy in having an 
opportunity of thus profitably celebrating the dying 
love of the Redeemer ; and the Church, knowing that 
the table is the Lord's and not their own, presented no 
barriers, required no confession of faith, but received 
me as a brother. The service concluded with a 
suitable exhortation. It is customary on this day to 
receive the new communicants who have been previously 
instructed by the pastors, and who are particularly 
addressed by the preacher on the solemn nature of the 
engagement they are about to make, to live as Disciples 
of Jesus ; their names publicly pronounced before the 
church, of which they are afterwards regarded as 
members. Boys and girls from fifteen to twenty 
years of age generally form this interesting group. 
At the other Church, ChartreuXy there were this day 
thirty new communicants, fifteen boys and fifteen girls, 
and I was told that the address was very affecting. 
All that 1 have seen and heard has given me an idea of 
the prosperity, temporal knd spiritual, of the Protes- 
tants at Bordeaux. I am doing all in my power to 
gain information on the actual situation of the churches, 
both here, at Nismes, and throughout the Kingdom ; 



«18 

and hqpe to be the means of increasing the knowledge 
of my fellow Christians in England on this subject. 

^ For the first time in my life I have spent JLent, le 
P4s qn<f, in a Catholic country where it is strictly ob* 
served as, a fast ; on which no meat is allowed to 
gratify the ap|ieUtes of the faithful.. In Protestant 
fi|piiies».CaUko)ic senrants wonld not eat the remsiiis of 
their mastffra* feasts.i and. while they had it in their 
power to use rich sonps^ and juicy nourishing beef 
and iii9tton». thejr ha?e scrupiilously contented them- 
selves wilih i<i^^ maigre and vegetables. The Arch- 
bishop has sent to the Cutis of this diocese a state- 
ment of the kinds of grease which might be made use 
oft ami the proper way of using them, and what will 
seem mysterious to the unbelieving Protestant. He has 
permitted the use of kitchen fat to servants in making 
soup» but has forbidden them to use it to render their 
▼egeitablea more palatable. 

'* Throughout the whole of the time since the last 
date» the weather has in. general been bad, and my 
health has been but variable. At present I am suffer- 
ing severely from boils, which render me weak and 
dispirited, and for a time, no doubt, retard my recovery. 
1 begin to be weary of the sameness of my situation, 
and sigh after m^ore variety» and a dryer atmosphere. 

<* I am pleased and surprised to find that, notwith- 
standing the apparent poverty of the peasants in the 
neighboiirhQod, most of them have an acre or two of 
vines, a |^g, or a cow. At the same time it must be 
allowed that their cottages are often uncomfortable, 
with clay floors, a smoky chimney, a few old chairs 
and table, which shew no signs whatever of the 



ei9 

wedUjr industry of tbe wife or the chraghter> posaessing 
in a word nothing equal. to 4lio fumitore of an Engliah 
eottage, fzcept the heds, in which the Freneh eertainly 
excel us by far. Did not the establishdl religion so 
often g^y^ reason to fear that supierstitioH h<^ls> the 
fdaceof piety, it would be pleasing to see by the sides 
or hung at Ae head of the beds,' cruclfiies and images 
of Christy which are evidently c<^asidered by the 
poorest peasant as essential pads of liovsehold fnmi- 
tnre« In addition to the ancmnforlable cottages, it 
must be also allowed that the peopleare very coarsely 
clad and coarsely fed." 

This journal of Mr. Goodier's here breaks off, and 
it was not permitted to him to resume it. His desire 
of gaining a further knowledge of the French character 
and manners, his interest in the scenes that he was 
entering into, and his wish to lexert his powers of use- 
fulness in the situation in which he was placed, were 
early ai|d suddenly frustrated ; and instead of farther 
exertions and sufferings here, he was called to his 
great reward in a better state of being. In his con- 
duct during his residence abroad,, the patience and 
sweetness with which he bore his affliction, and the 
kindness and friendship he excited in those around him, 
we find that no difference of opinion^ or religious pro« 
fessien, can prevent genuine piety and goodness from 
their natural influence over the minds of others. It is 
delightful to behold how, from circumstances apparently 
the most unpromising, he derived real benefit and un- 
expected pleasure. Even on his first entrance into a 
land of strangers, sick, solitary, and, with the excep- 

T 



tion of a few introductiens^ unfriended, he receired 
every hospitable attention ; he sought for sjmpathj, 
and it was not refused to him ; and those who first 
knew him only in his hours of pain and sufiering*, did 
not desert him in the still darker scenes that awaited 
him. On the contrary, the pleasure they took in his 
society^ and the benefit they derived from his etample, 
amply repaid them for the melaneholy doty of sharing 
in his distress and alleviating his pain^ His thoughts 
still fondly turned to his friends at home, and in a few 
weeks, by the first opportunity that occurred, he wrote 
to his father, with an account of the family with whom 
he was settled, with his opinion of the religious state 
of the society around him, and the prospects of useful- 
ness he was himself likefy to find. 

" Bordeaux, February 4y, 4i4$i 

*• Dear Fathsr, 

** A few days hence, Captain A., with 
whom 1 came to Bordeaux, will set sail for Liverpool, 
and has promised to take me any letters I may wish. 
You will be anxious to know how I am, and what I 
think of the climate and people, and I cannot permit 
so good an opportunity of sending to you to pass by 
unimproved. You will have heard before this, of my com-^ 
paratively good voyage, and safe arrival at the desired 
haven. I had several excellent letters of introduction 
to some of the most respectable mercantile English 
houses, which I have found of great use. They re* 
ceived and treated me with the greatest politeness, and 
were willing to assist me with information and advice, 
and to look out for comfortable lodgings for me.^I 



221 



wished to lodge in the. country if possible^ and a 
Mr. J., to whom I had a g^ood introduction^ procured 
me a lodging about six miles from town^ which is 
almost every thing 1 could wish. The family with 
whom I live are relations of Mrs. J., and having been 
unfortunate in trade, have retired into the country to 
cultivate a small estate, of between thirty and forty 
acres. They keep eight or ten cows, and live in a 
neat and eccfnomical manner* The surrounding country 
is flat, but well- wooded^ ^nd will soon begin to be 
beautiful. The family are of Irish extraction, and 
speak both French and English. They are very atten- 
tive to me, and I have nothing to wish for but a horse* 
They have procured for me an ass ; and the servant 
brings me, every morning before I get up, a bowl of 
asses' milk) and at night I take another, besides a basin 
or two of cows' milk every day. The weather is much 
milder than with you, but for a week past has been 
yery wet. In one and the same day we hare had 
thunder and hail, and snow and rain : the country was 
almost inundated ; but two days of fine weather have 
caused u^uch of the water to disappear^ and has restored 
cheerfulness to the surrounding scenery. Two days 
ago it was as warm as it commonly is in May with us, 
and in general the season is at least six weeks in 
advance compared with our's. Pease and beans are 
already up; the peasants are planting potatoes, and 
dressing their vineyards, and their gardens begin to 
shew an appearance of spring. I wish I could add 
that I find myself rapidly recovering, but owing to the 
wet weather, which confined me a whole week to the 
bouse, and also to a severe cold which I caught a day 



222 



or two after nj arri? «1 at Bonleaox» 1 do not feel so 
mveh iBproftd as I had expected, I walk out a good 
deal, bttt And a eouple of miles a fatigfriog joamej. 
I^ne warm weather n» however, now coming: on, and in 
a month or six weeks jon vnj Expect to hear a good 
account from me. 1 intend to fwoceed farther to the 
south at the end of that time, and shall probably stay 
some time at Tonlonse. I shall improTe the present 
opportunity, as much as possible, of seeing men and 
manners. I am Tcry desirous of knowing the French 
character thoroughly from penonal obserTation, and 
also of learning the state of public opinion and of 
religion. At present, I am shut out from Uie world 
completely, and cannot obserre much ; but I am 
busily employed in learning to speak French, and in 
six weeks I hope to be able to couTerse in it with 
tolerable ease and correctness. Short as my stay has 
been, I have seen enough to make me rejoice that I 
am a native of fingland« We rail at the gotemment, 
and with reason, perhaps : we call ours^es slaves who 
have been robbed of liberty by an arbitrary suspen- 
sion of the habeas corpus act, but after all, we enjoy 
far more liberty than the people of Prance : wo have 
liberty of conscience, which is here unknown, liberty 
of speech, which is here forbidden, and liberty of 
reading, which is here proscribed. There are two 
Protestant churches in Bordeaux, and thbiigb the 
members think the present a peacenble and favooiMle 
time for them, yet 1 find the ministers dare not defend 
their sentiments publicly, and none of the people wbiild 
venture on any account to attempt the conversion of an 
ignorant Catholic; and as to the poor Catholics, the 



9S8 



great majority of the people, they are. the slaves of 
saperstiti^Dy and priestcmfft, and ceretn^y* It <wo«ld 
grieye you to attend. one of theit puljiBc 45C|rTioe9-*^o 
witness, their crossings ^nd'bow.ingsu^jmages of Christ, 
or. to the altar, find heari j^heip attempt to join in 
chaijiting Latin prayers, not a> word, of which they 
understimd. Ignorance and ^bigotry go hand in hand, 
and I suppoife if, after having learnt French^ I should 
attempt to preach Unitarianism, ;the, guillotine would 
be my reward. The English at Bord€faux are numerous, 
but have no church of their own, nor any service in 
English : many of them understand French very well, 
and attend at the Protestant temples, as they are called. 
In these temples^ doctrines are seldom insisted upon I 
believe, and as far as I have yet learnt, they seem in 
this respect to be roach in the same state as our con- 
gregations were twenty years ago ; a mixture of 
Trinitarians^ Arians, and a few Seciniaus, as we are 
here called. Here, however^ the grand distinction is 
between Protestants and Catholics. In this, minor 
differences are sunk, and were I strong enough for 
the undertaking, I should not despair of raising a 
church at Bordeaux amongst those English, who do not 
undersiand French snffiaiently to profit by the services 
of the Protestants. You will perceive that I am 
deprived of the advantages of public worship : I feel 
the loss to be considerable, and am afraid I shall 
suffer by it. To attend the Catholics is impossible , 
1 should be Seized with melancholy. Protestants, 
there are none near, except the family I am with and 
their fathers, who are of the Church of England. 
We have worship in the family every Sunday, and 

t3 



244 



thoa^fa there are some parts of the service to which I 
am forced to object, yet as I am not the minister, I 
content myself with objecting, and cannot persaade 
myself to be absent, so much do I think the company 
of oar fellow-beings enliTens and assists devotion. 
Give my love to my sister and to all my friends. Write 
soon, if you have not written already, and tell me how 
you all are. Remember that I am an exile, in a foreign 
land^ and that the most indifferent things which regard 
my AoMtf, my friend$y and my country^ are doubly 
dear to me." 

On the same day on which he wrote the preceding 
letter, Mr. Goodier also addressed one to his friend 
Mr. F. 

<< Mt Dear Sir, 

<* I am happy in having so soon an 
opportunity of writing to you again. Captain A. 
returns to Liverpool, and kindly offers to convey you 
as many letters as I wish ; your past unparallelled 
kindness leaves me no room to doubt that you wilt be 
glad to hear of me, and for my own part, exiled as I 
am' from my home and my country, each of my friends 
seems doubly dear to me ; and in longing again to 
enjoy their company, 1 find thinking of them, recol- 
lecting their kindness^ and in imagination enjoying it 
over again, and above all, writing to them, the best 
means of supporting my impatience. You yi\\\ not, I 
am sure, be surprised, that even in the midst of novelty 
and variety, 1 should feel at times that something is 
wanting to my accustomed happiness, when you con- 



225 



sider how completely all my wants were anticipated, 
and every necessary comfort supplied under your 
hospitable roof. Happy, indeed, was it for me to find 
such a refugee in time of need ; and happy, perhaps, is 
it for me that circumstances have arisen which have 
removed me frem it, as soon as my health was decidedly 
improved ; too much repose would have blunted my 
faculties ; too much happiness would have corrupted, 
me. You must, I fear, at times have thought me un- 
grateful, in having never .expressed my obligations to 
you, during the long time you were doing so much for 
me. The truth is, that I have always thought, as I 
still think, that any common language would do in- 
justice both to your generosity and my own feelings, 
and when I have attempted to speak, my words have 
been stifled in their birth. Your peace of mind 
depends not upon words, which of themselves would 
prove nothing. If it. please the Great Disposer of 
events^ who killeth and maketh* alive again, to continue 
and perfect that restoration to health, which He has 
begun chiefly by your means, I trust that you will 
long live to see that your kindness has not been in vain, 
or your gdodness abused, and that my conduct will 
best speak the reality of my thankfulness. In the 
mean time, I rejoice in the assurancie, that a day will 
certainly arrive, in which the benevolent Jwk*, the 
judge of quick and dead, will say to all who resemble 
him, < Inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least 
of these my brethren^ ye have done it unto me.' The 
benevolence of Jesus is an illustration of the goodness 
of God, and both are too great and extensive, to suffer 
the least good action to pass unrewarded. Eten a cup 



^96 

of cold water i^Ten to a Discif^le "of Christ/ from a 
Christian motifOy we are assnred shall by no means 
lose its reward. Here then, is a stroag^ foandatioB fear 
comfortt and for thankfulness to all the foUowein of 
Jesas, who^ like myself, are eonscioos of their inability 
ever to discharge the obligalions which the generosity 
of their fellow Christians has laid them under. Jesns, 
our master* is in this sense our surety, and will make 
full and complete atonement for all our deficiencies. 
Bxeose me for having dwelt so long on this topic, and 
assuming so sermonic a strain. The subject was fruit* 
fol« and my feelings hare insensibly led me on; 
but I must recollect I am writing a letter, not compo- 
sing a sermmi/' [Mr. Goodier here repeats the account 
of his lodging, and the comforts of his situation, and 
continnes] ** Mrs. A. is in part an inralid herself, and 
tells me to regard her as a mother, while I stay with 
them ; the daughters are obliging, and an old French 
woman •servant, who would have been burnt as a witch 
in the days of our fathers, seems to regard me as one 
of her children, and takes all the care of roe possible. 
« * My nurse, as I cidl her, brings me a warm bowl 
of asses* milk about seven o'clock each morning, whilst 
I am yet in bed, and by ber kind inquiries after my 
health, and the manner in which 1 have passed the 
night, fuNy proves that sympathy is not confined to one 
language^ or one nation. I stayed for some dajs after 
my arrival with the captain, who has uniformly behaved 
with kindness to me. I unfortunately caught a severe 
cM while remaining witb him, which, added to nine 
days of incessant rain, has retarded my recovery, and 
I am not much better than when I left you. Several 



227 

of the days have however been delightful ; as warm 
quite as the finest days of our finest ApriU Such 
weather is now setting in, I thipk, I spend a great 
deal of time' m the open air« rambling^ in the woods, 
of which there are several in the neighbourhood." 

A few weeks after the above letter, was wi^tten^ Mr. 
Goodier took the opportunity, . afibrded bj a vessel 
sailing for Liveipopl, to write again to his father; hia 
account of the state of his health is a very unsatisfac- 
tory one* 

« 3farigfum^ March 18, ISIB. 

f < I am sorry to be stiU mnable to s^nd yoit an account 
as.favouraMbTaal had wished, andiioped* however, rl 
am somewhat, ittproved^ waA if* the Reason had not been 
almost incessantly wet, shoidd have been much more 
ao. The iMitives afe tkensselves . aurpirised at. the 
weather, which they say is almost untiainpled ; at least 
three^fourths of :tbe time mnce my arcivai haa.beenso 
rainy, as to prev^t my going out^ and . w^re it net that 
Mr. J. has furnished me wiA a variety of interesting 
books, I shpnid haive past my time uneomf<HPtably, 
Whenever the weather is fine, 1 am much in the open 
air, and walked as much as forty«five miles the first 
week in this month, chkfly in a neighbouring pine 
wood, in which is a half-mile wa)k» furnished with a 
seat fpr resting. This will convince you that I must 
be improved ; .however, I have gained only about two 
ponndlB in weight, and in consequence of a little cold, 
which I (Caught in returning from the- city, where I had 
spent three days with the J. family, ^o are very kind 



228 



to me, my coagb is more troublesome^ and I am not 
qoite so well this week." Mr. Goodier then mentions 
the severe suffering he was at this time experiencing 
from several large boils } and he adds, ** I bear my 
pain patiently, considering it as an effort of my con- 
stitution to throw off the remains of disease ; judge 
what I must have suffered. I have been lame ever 
since my arrival in France, and for three weeks past 
have been forced to wear my arm in a sling. • • I have 
at times great difficulty in keeping up my spirits, and 
in the absence of all information from you, mj mind 
is sometimes apt to feed its g^m with melancholy 
views of things. To consider myself as an almost 
confirmed invalid, who has been strnggliag for years 
with a dangerous and obstinate. disease, which is ever 
ready to seize each advantage possible, and dispute 
every inch of ground ; an ozile from my home and 
my friends, from whom I am separated by a chasm of 
upwards of eight hundred miles ; amongst strangers, 
whose language, and manners, and religion are different 
from my own ; gives me but too jusi a cause for 
melancholy when I am a little worse, and the time of my 
recovery seems more distant. However, reason and 
religion both come to my aid, and assure me that all 
is ri^ht, under the administration of wisdom which 
cannot err, and of goodness which can never do wrong. 
I have much to be thankful for, and though I have 
struggled long with disease, I have not struggled in 
vain. Though I am among strangers, they are strangers 
who are kind. I am peculiarly fortunate in having 
been introduced to Mr. J., who is very rich, and very 
hospitfible ; whenever 1 go to town, I have a bed and a 



1 1^1 ^^^^^0m^^mi0m 



229 

plate at m j service there, and they do every thin^, and 
more than I could expect, to show their sympathy and 
render ray situation comfortable. At their house I 
have been introduced to one of the pastors of the 
Protestant church at Bordeaux, whom I heard preach 
on Sunday last. He is one of the finest speakers I 
have ever heard, and gave a sermon which' 1 could not 
help thinkiug wonderful^ on account of its powerful 
eloquence and touching pathosw I understood him 
perfectly, though preaching in French, which added 
greatly to my pleasure. I am still at the place where 
I was, but think it likely that I may go on to Montau- 
ban or Toulouse in the course of next week. You 
may expect a good account of me in six weeks hence, 
and in the mean time 1 shall doubtless hear from you. 
I am very anxious to hear how you all are, and how 
my friends are ; I mention no names, for I could fill a 
sheet with the names of those of whom I frequently 
think, and for whose welfare I am anxious.. My daily 
prayers are offered for your happiness, and that of the 
whole family, whom T.love the more in consequence of 
being farther distant, and if you were in possession of 
all the good I wish, both you and my mother would be 
convinced that I am indeed your affectionate son." 

In a passage in the very interesting memoir of Mr. 
Goodier, published in the Monthly Repository, is the 
following extract from a letter, written prior to his 
departure from Bordeaux, which apparently refers- to 
the minister just mentioned. 

«* On Sunday I went to the Protestant church, and 



2S0 

WM ktsMy gmtified by sceiiif a crowded md most 
retpedaMfr congreipittoBy and by bearing an admirable 
FrenebiieMdli, delif^lped ilia aiasteriy mAdner. Tbe 
miiiialerift olie?of tbebeat speakers I bive yet heatd, 
hit s^nnoir abeonded in eloqaent atad pM^tic passages, 
pronounced n^b' snch Ibree 'aiid feeling, as eridentlf 
eame fnrii Ibebeilrt, and easily- ibnnd their way to the 
hearti of Ibe andience, som^ Wniidreds of whom were 
dissoltM'tn teai«. I hkre beiin happy enongh to be 
introdaeed to this excellent preacher, and good man." 

Thus, in tbe midst of severe and protracted pain, 
did Mr. Goodi^r find consolation alid even happiness 
in witbessiag the exertions and Christian labours of 
others, and his heart was still open to every sonite of 
iporal and religions joy » with even increased sensibility 
and gratitude. The same warm interest in the welfare 
and witine of Ms fellow-creatures^ the same benevolent 
desire to cotttribnte to it» the amiable temper and 
lively observation which had distinguished and blest his 
days of youth and activity, still shed their soothing 
and consolatory iiiAuetfees over the departing scenes of 
bis life. His stflbrings produced only increased 
patience, aild a more entire resigiiation— 'he still 
cherished the hope and expectation of being useful to 
others— ^he seised with pleasure and thankfulness every 
opportumty of increnitag his information on religions 
subjects-'Hmd, with htsr usual ardoar of mind, he. 
formed a plan* of translating English Unitarian tracts 
into the French tongue^ and thus assistingv though 
incapacitated from public duty, in difiusing the interests 
of pure and Scripttiral Christianity: this hope was 



231 



not doomed to be realized. His proposal was, how- 
ever, presented to the general meeting of the Unitarian 
fund in 1818, and met with universal approbation from 
the members. It was, however, understood by the 
book society, some members of whom were present, 
that the support of snch an undertaking belonged 
rather to them, than to the Unitarian Fund, and at the 
first meeting of that society, which took place after- 
wards, it was resolved, that the sum fixed for the 
purpose, should be forwarded to Mr. Goodier, accom- 
panied with suitable tracts. This plan was unhappily 
frustrated, by the speedy and fatal termination of all 
his benevolent projects. ^'Almost with his dying breath, 
Mr.Goodier bore his testimony to the necessity and prac- 
ticability of diffusing religious knowledge in France.'* 
As soon as he arrived at Mohtauban, Mr. Goodier 
wrote to England, and this letter breathes a beautiful 
spirit of rejoicing in the opening charms of nature, 
and the rich variety of the scenery around him ; few 
have felt so vividly the admiration and joy inspired by 
the changes of the seasons, and the freshness and 
animation of spring; and connected, as all things were 
in his mind, with the benevolence and goodness of their 
Author, they became a source of peculiar and elevated 
enjoyment which only hearts like his are privileged 
to feel. 

" Montauban, May 29, 1818. 

'< My Dear Mrs. F. 

*« I am happy to be able through 
the blessing of a good Providence, to write a less 
melancholy letter than my last. I am in every respect 



2Sf 

much better than in March, and am gradually though 
slofvly improving. Yon will tee by the date of this, 
that 1 have left the neighbourhood of Bordeaux, and 
I am sorry that my lameness prevented me from leaving 
s(K>ner» The neighbourhood of Bordeaux is flat, low, 
and subject to very frequent rain^, which charge the 
atmosphere with humidity, however, on the 7th, I left 
it for this city, which is delightfully situated on the 
banks of the Tarne, in the midst of a rich and exten- 
sive plain, commanding a delightful prospect, which is 
bounded on the south west by the Pyrenees, which 
even at this distance (one hundred miles) excite a most 
vivid idea of the venerableness and grandeur of nature, 
when throned on mountains capped with clouds. I 
can give you but a faint idea of the richness, and mag« 
nificence, and loveliness of the scenery which surrounds 
me. The weather is in general delightful, though in 
the middle of the day too hot ; the harvest is rich in 
promise, and as far as regards hay and clover is already 
commenced partially. The groves are filled with 
nightingales, the fields with larks and cuckoos, the 
grass with chirping insects, all of which vie with each 
other in singing the pleasures of life and of spring ; 
a song, which however varied in form« in the ear of a 
religious man, who delights to regard in nature the 
mirror of the Creator*s goodness, is a chorus of grati- 
tude and praise. Kor is man silent in this chorus ; it 
is no rare thing to hear the labourers singing in the 
fields, and the country girls as they pass along the 
lanes with the knitting needle and the distaff, frequently 
express their gaiety by joining in the song. But the 
mildness of the climate, and beauty of the country. 



23a 



are not all the charms which my present situatioa 
possesses. Montaaban is the seat of Protestant iustruc- 
tion in France ; their only college for the education of 
young ministers is here ; it is a large convenient buihi- 
ing, formerly a convent ; there are upwards of thirty 
fttudentSy and six professors of the various branches of 
learning. I had a letter of introduction to the princi* 
pal professor, as a young minister of ihe Reformed 
church of England, He received me with an hospitality 
truly English, introduced me to the other professors, 
and I am on terms of familiarity with all the students, 
as well as with two of the pastors 'of the Protestant 
church here ; one of whom, an eloquent preacher, i 
may venture to call my friend. I have permission to 
attend the college lectures free of expense ; aad though 
the professors and students know that I am a heretic, 
for I have made no secret of my principles, yet the 
most orthodox of them treat me as a Christian brother. 
To complete my good fortune, I am lodged in a 
boarding-house ddjghtfully situated in the suburbs, 
where all besides myself are students at the college. 
I have a large w^-furnished chamber. Our hostess 
is truly a mother to me, and she seems only to fear 
that I should not express my wants freely. In a word, 
my dear Madam, I am in a situation which wants 
nothing but you and my other dear friends in England 
to make it as perfectly happy as earth will permit." 
Mr. Goodier here mentions his health, and gives a 
detail of his sufferings, which still continued uncom- 
monly severe : he continues, *< They do not hinder jme, 
however, from walking out in the country a grtat deal* 
1 risesooD after^ and sometimes with the sun, generally 



234 



about five o* clock ; the morniDg air is delicioas, and 1 
am very little within doors till about half-past eight. 
The niddle of the day is in general toe hot for walk- 
ing, but after six I keep again moring till near eight : 
thiSy however, fatigues me. I sleep well, eat well, 
cough at present very little, and I trust Dr. — 's pre- 
scription will be of service to me. ) I have every pro- 
spect of becoming a healthy man in the course of 
another year, if it were not for these boils, and I hope 
fervently that the next will be the last. T scarcely 
need add that 1 .intend prolonging my stay in this 
charming country, 1 hope for another year, and in that 
time I trust to be enabled, by the Divine blessing, to 
earn a^i much by English teaching as will pay my 
expenses. On the whole, my dear Mrs. P., I think 
you will agree with me, in saying that I have every 
reason to rejoice in my visit to Francel It has not 
only given me an opportunity of learning the language, 
which at present I speak and write daily, and of seeing 
a country which has long engaged the attention of the 
world at large, but it has enabled me to collect a variety 
of particulars respecting the state of the French Pro- 
testants, a subject equally interesting and unknown in 
England. What I have learnt respecting them, has led 
me to form a plan, which I hope will have your and 
Mr. P.'s approbation, and which, if it succeeds, will 
lead me to regard my visit, and the sickness which 
occasioned it, as truly providential. 1 am convinced 
the Protestant ministers and students are, with few 
exceptions, very far from orthodox. They do not 
hesitate to preach directly against some of the doetrines 
of Calvinism, and on almost all the others^ they guard 



235 



an absolute silence. Mr. H. is at present here 
eudeavoaring to lead the students back to Calvinism. 
He meets with little success, and I am persuaded there 
wants nothing but a fair statement and a good defence 
of Unitarianism to gain converts. I have, therefore, 
proposed to translate and circulate, ' at their expense, 
some of the best Unitarian tracts. 1 expect an answer 
daily, and as I have no doubt of an affirmative one, I 
have to request that H. T. will send nfe by the first 
ship a good selection of these tracts.*' 

1 he favourable situation of M ontauban, as the seat 
of Protestant study, for the diffusion of religious in- 
formation, having thus occured to Mr. Goodier, in 
another letter to his friends in England, he thus con- 
tinues the subject : — ** I am collecting all the infor- 
mation in my power on the state of the French Protes- 
tants, who, in general, are very far from being Calvinists. 
I have never yet heard a doctrinal sermon, and in 
general I do not even hear an orthodox expression in 
the public services, if I except some vague language 
on the merits of Cbrist. At Bordeaux there are 
several demi-Unitarians, and their most popular 
minister would be condemned at once by our English 
Calvinists as a Socinian. Like the pastors of Geneva, 
he maintaina an absolute silence : he has favoured me 
with a very friendly notice — in a letter which he did 
me the honour of writing, some weeks ago, he says,-— 
'* Pour moi, je ne jure ta par Luther^ ni par Calvin. 
Je ne suis ni d^Appollos ni de Cephas. Je suis de 
JesQS Christ. Tout ce qui est clairement rev^!^ dans- 
TEcritnre Sainte est I'objet de ma foi. J'tidmets 



U3 



236 



toul ce qm*eUe dii» laiit Toalotr sur ce qui est obscar, 
expliqner t^m^rairement le poor qaoi, et le commeot. 
Les choses cachees soni pour L*£teniel/* So far as 
I have yet leamt» this Isngaage is applicaMe to the 
majority of Protestant ministers in France. Believinlf 
that secret things belong unto God, they seldom preach 
upon the mysteries of the Gospel, ss they are termed. 
Electioui predestination, justification, and the operation 
of Divine grace, are subjects almost exploded : if 
there remain any orthodox doctrine in the pulpit, it is 
that of satisfaction. 

** This is the seat of Protestant instruction in France; 
their college contains, at present, about forty students 
and six professors, who are salaried by the government. 
1 board at the same bouse with one of the pastors and 
nine of the students. You will readily believe that 
my heresy is no secret. We have daily discussions on 
the Divinity of Christ, which most of the students 
believe. My opinions have been reported to one of the 
professors, who, thoagh orthodox, as 1 believe all of 
them are, still receives me kindly, and seems anxious 
to be acquainted with some of the Unitarian books of 
England. He understands English, and has just 
translated * Wilberforc^ View,' which he is about to 
publish. Mr. Robert H., of Scotland, is also here^ 
busily engaged, as be has been at Geneva, in translat- 
ing and publishing orthodox pamphlets : he is a strict 
Calvinist, and in his writings, as well as conversation, 
refuses us the Christian name. Notwithstanding this, 
he . is very benevolent and mild ; he heard of my 
arrival and expressed a wish to see me ; I was in- 



«87 

trodaced bj a common friend> and we had a conyersa* 
tion of five hours on the leadings doctrines of the^ 
"Gospel : he ia extremely friendly, and kindly hopes thai 
God will conTert me. I have a pressing invitation to bis 
bouse ; he gives ine his printed works and lends me 
any of his books. Under these circumstances,, is it 
not highly desirable to translate and circulate a few of 
our best tracts ? In two months to come I shall be 
able to translate them correctly, with the assistance of 
one of the students ; and though I dare not pablish, 
I can easily and cheaply print and circulate some of 
them. In the public mind there is much indifference, 
but the opinions of Geneva excite attention amongst 
tlie students and pastors, and some of the people. 
Would the Unitarian fund be willing to expend eight 
or ten pounds in this good work ? I need not say tbat 
I should proceed economically and prudently, and that 
my personal exertions would be willingly given* How 
I should rejoice and adore the wisdom of Providence, 
if my sickness should thus be rendered instrumental to 
the introduction of Divine truth into this extensive 
and enlightened empire." 

A few weeks after the above letter was written, 
BIr. Goodier*s sufferings continued to increase, and his 
strength rapidly declined, though the enduring sweet* 
ness of his temper, and his firm resignation to his 
severe trial, remained the same ; and in the midst of 
violent pain, and the near prospect of parting, and 
death, the still small voice yet whispered peace. Frfm 
a life of ripening usefulness he was called in the midst 



S88 



of his days. His plans of increased knowledge and 
benevolence were cut off prematurely ; but he trusted 
that they were interrupted, not destroyed, and that 
they would still continue to expand in another and a 
holier state of being. The enei^es of his mind con- 
tinued warm and unimpaired to the last ; and the 
letters he dictated from his dying bed, are filled with 
expressions of Christian hope and joy, and the tenderest 
affection and concern for his friends. It is truly affect- 
ing, amidst his own sufferings, to behold the gentleness 
with which he endeavoured to soothe the blow to bis 
family, and by words of comfort and trust, lo inspire 
them with the consolation which he himself possesed. 
The Christian patience, the fortitude, the heavenly- 
mindedness, which he had for years been labouring to 
attain, which, through many trials and sorrows he 
had endeavoured to cultivate, and whose lesson he had 
learnt in disappointment and sickness, now sustained 
him at the last ; and with a heart already diciplined to 
receive his heavenly Father's will, he did not shrink 
from the great closing trial. He was, indeed, fitted for 
a future state of happiness, if the most extensive 
benevolence of disposition, goodness, and singleness of 
heart, talents consecrated through life to the service 
of religion and virtue, and an exalted love of God and 
human-kind, can be supposed a fit preparation for 
Heaven. In every line of his writings the spirit of 
devotion is visible. 

Besides his English diary, he left a short diary in 
French, which was commenced a few weeks previous 
to his death, and which the circumstances under which 
it was written, render peculiarly interesting ; it is 



239 

a continuation of a former one, written during hid 
residence abroad, which is unfortunately lost. 

<* June Ist^ 1818. — Ce que j*ai ^crit journellenient, 
c'est bien pen de chose; cependant jai totljours trony^ 
qu'un bon journal est un ami fiddle, et un censeur in- 
structif. Les defautes et les omissions d*aujourd hui, 
sonty au peuvent 6tre, les conseillers de demain ; et 
l*ecriture des pens^es leg^res qui glissent dans Tame, 
conserve souvent des choses utiles d Tavenir, qui 
seroient autrement perdu^s. De plus, comme je me 
propose d'^crire toiijours en langue Francaise, ce jour- 
nal me. ser?ira d'un livre d*exercises Fran^aises^ et 
contribuera ainsi de me faire apprendre une langue que 
j*aime mieux en la connaissant mieux. • « « Au com- 
mencement de ce mois^ je me trouve dans un ^tat de 
faiblesse et de paresse— -un mal au pied droit, une 
douleur d la cuisse gauche, roild pourqnoi je suis en 
cet ^tat ; les douleurs m'emp^chent de marcher, et de 
prendre le bon air en assez grande quantity — je reste 
chez moi beancoup, et je ne piuz, par consequence 
ressentir la vivacit^^ et la vigueur — le remade dont ja*i 
fait un essai, n*d pas eu de suites^ et je crois qn*il faut 
attendre les effets du beau temps. 

'< June 2d* — 11 y a deux ans aujourd-hut depuis que 
je ne sois chez mon p^re ou chez mes parens. Quand 
je fb mes adieux je croyois partir pour un quart 
d*ann^e et pensois d rien moins qu*i venir en France^ 
mais Personne ne peut voir ravenir,ousavoir les choses 
qui vont venir. Je me flattois de Tesp^rance de r^tablir 
ma sante par un voyage d I'lsle Blanche — ^au contraire 
je Tai afiaiblie et fait nditre la necessity de voyager en 



SiO 



France. II me tarde de reTeoir d ma cb^re Patrie et k 
mes chen amis, maia la aantd ne me permet pas cettQ 
gratification et il me faot rester chez dea etrao^era aa 
moina un autre an. Eh bien ! il faat ae aoumettre d 
k Tolant^ de Dieu— ^qoe aon nom ^^acr^ soii henit qoe 
je ne suia paa aaoa agr^mens ; et ai je languid quelque 
foia» je auia d'ordinaire aasex content de mon aort et de 
ma situation* J*ai de bona amis^ qjoi me font bien da 
plaisir par lenra amiti^. Je me confie done d Dieu^ 
et je me determine i faire inceasamnient dea efforts d 
tire toojoara content, heureux et reconnaiaaant." 

These were the last linea he erer wrote in his journal, 
and the resolution was not made in vain. He was 
grateful, and be was happy, even on the bed of death; 
a happineaa not to be exchanged for the best joys. of a 
world like this. The separatiim. from his friends was 
indeed a stroke he could not but deeply feel ; but even 
this was aUeviated by that perfect confidence with which 
he committed himself and all whom he loved^ to that 
power which cannot err, and will not willingly affiief* 
In the heginning of July, he grew rapidly worse, and 
his state of weakness became alarming ; he therefore 
felt it necessary to inform his family of the painful 
change which had taken place. The following letter is 
addressed to them all. 

"Juiy 12, 1B18. 

** I find myself at length forced to the per^ 
formance of a painful duty which by deferring I had 
hoped, to escape, viz: that of making yott fMf 
acquainted with my -present painful and feeble situation. 



S4i 



I wish yoa to be prepared for all events ; and vihpn I 
tell yon that J write this letter from a sick chamber, 
to which I have been confined for almost a week» 
chiefly in bed, in a state of such helplessness^ as to be 
absolutely dependent on the kind offices of the family 
with whom I lodge, who have been forced for several 
nights past to watch with me ; that for a month past I 
have been forced to employ the skill of an eminent 
physician of the town, who visits me twice a day, you 
will agree with me, that it is very possible yon have 
seen me for the last time on this side the tomb. I 
wrote to you by a friend last week, a general account 
of the reverses which have led to this state. I wish 
not to expatiate ; my sufferings have been, and conti- 
nue to be, very great, and it is quite sufficient that I 
have to bear them myself without making yon suffer. 
'* Under these painful circumstances, the mercy of 
God has provided me every possible consolation, and 
in general my mind is tranquil and happy ; oftener, 
indeed, disturbed on your account than on my own ; 
and I earnestly pray, and confidently hope, that these 
consolations will soften your portion of this mysterious 
dispensation as they do mine. The grand truths of the 
Gospel, especially that of the universal love and fatherly 
character of Him in whose hands our breath is, con- 
firmed as this doctrine^s by reason and by past ex- 
perience, fill me with humble confidence ; and though 
death is awful, it has ceased to be terrible. When' I 
look back on the merciful dealings of His providence 
during my long sickness, and reflect on the numerous 
and unexpected softenings I have constantly received 
from his paternal goodness, how can I doubt that all is 



248 

wm^iDg together for mj good ? that in the hands of a 
Father I shall always be safe ? and that if his wisdom 
sees good to remove me from this earthly scene, it is 
only to remove to another, where my enjoyments will 
be increased, and where my perceptions of his ever- 
lasting mercy will be more lively , my views of his 
glorious designs for the children of men more extensive 
and enchanting ? If I had had a doubt on this sub- 
ject the wonderful interposition of His providence, in 
leading me^ almost in spite of myself, to this house» 
would have removed it. There is not a single person 
tn the family who does not strive to aid me^ and the 
mistress is beyond all praise ; all the day long she is 
in my chamber, with the exception of a few moments 
'devoted to family affairs ; she exhibits all the tender- 
ness of a mother, performs the most menial offices with 
pleasure, and after all, she assures me that the pleasure 
of my acquaintance and friendship is an ample reward. 
I trust, however, my friends will enable me to reward 
her more substantially in case of my death, and if I 
live, I shairnot fail to shew her my gratitude. * • « 
My doctor finds me better, and assures me there is 
hope : at all events, be tranquil : we shaii meet again, 
if not here, at least in that world where there will be 
no more sorrow, no more tears. What can I ss\y to my 
numerous friends ? Give them^ny blessing — you will 
bear again shortly — ^be comforted.*' 

A few days after writing to his family, Mr. Goodier 
dictated a letter to those friends in Liverpool, whose 
friendship and tenderness had followed him through all 
the various scenes of his illness, and to whose kindness 



^£> 



J849 



aad liberality he waa principally indebted, for the 
epportnnity of the effort he had made for the restoration 
of bis healthy and for the many attentions and comforts 
which he received. His affection for them, and his 
sense of their goodness were warmly retained to the last. 

'' Montauban, July Ibth, 1818. 

<< Dear Mr. aiii> Mrs. F. 

<< Contrary to my usual custom, I address 
you both, because I wish to include both, in a mark of 
my remembrance, and an expression of my gratitude, 
which my present circuoftstancea lead me to believe 
will probably be the last. After the encouraging 
letter of the Ist of June> I did not expect so soon to 
be nader the necessity of wounding your feelings by 
so painfiil a recital as the present : but to prevent a 
still more painful shock, I feel it my duty to give you 
a faithful account of the actual state of my health, in 
order to prepare you for an event, which though not 
' absolutely certain, I cannot but shortly expect. I dic- 
tate this letter from a bed which has been my refuge 
for upwards of a week, and in which I am in such a 
state of weakness as to be unable, almost, to move my- 
self, without the assistance of those around me. During 
this week, my pain has been so great as almost entirely 
to deprive me of sleep ; the last six nights having not 
slept as many hours." [Mr. Goodier here gives a detail 
of his sufferings, which arose from a complication of 
disorders, and towards the last were so unoommonly 
severe, as to excite the deepest commiseration and 
sympathy in all around him, as well as astonishment at 
the firmness with which he supported them. He after- 

X 



244 



wardi continves]— ** Under these mekncholy circum- 
stances* it will please yon to hear that I have ev«ry 
consolation, boUi spiritual and temporal. My hostess, 
formerly a yonng lady of some property, bat who has 
suffered much since her marriage from sickness and 
adrersity, treats me with the tenderness of the most 
afiectionate mother : tweWe hours a day, at least, she 
spends by my side ; her tears flow more frequent^ 
than my own. • • During the night she confides 
me to the teost trusty attendants, but before fire in the 
morning is frequently again in my chamber. For all 
this, she frequently assures me that my friendship is all 
that she wishes, and that she regards herself happy in my 
acquaintance. To say nothing of an affectionate 
senrant, or a most friendly physician, the minister of 
the Protestant church visits me with affectionate kind- 
ness, and wishes me to assure my friends in England, 
that in the event of my death in a strange land, the 
interest which he and his friends take in my situation, 
will lead them to discharge every Christian and friendly 
duty, so that on this head you may be perfectly 
tranquil. In addition to this, the consolations of 
religion have increased with the increase of my trials, 
enabling me to preserve an almost uniform serenity of 
spirit, and I am confident that they will never forsake 
me," * ♦ 

The above letter was dictated to a young gentleman 
who visited Mr. Goodier in his sickness, and at the 
end of it are a few lines in his own hand-writing, 
dated the. following day, and probably the last he 
ever traced. 



245 



<* 16th. 1 have dictated this letter to the friendly 
hand of a young Scotch clergyman, resident in the 
city^ who takes a hrotherly sympathy in my condition. 
This morning I am better, and the phynician^s hopes 
evidently increase. Nothing is impossible to God. 
Accept my prayers for your welfare— gire my blessing 
to my friends, and let us remember we are in the 
hands of God." 

To his old and faithful friend Mrs. H., whose cor* 

respondence had been a source of pleasure and 

religious consolation for years, Mr. Goodier also 
dictated a few lines on the day before he expired. 

" Montamban, July 22nd, 1818. 

<«MYDear Madam^ 

** After the very long interruption I have 
caused in our correspondence, it would be melancholy, 
if any thing could be melancholy to Christians like 
you, to renew our correspondence by a recital of suffer- 
ings already suffered and to suffer, yet I could not 
consider my earthly duties finished till I had given you 
what will probably be a last account of my condition. 
Yet, having written an account of this condition to 
Mrs. F., at full length, I feel it partly unnecessary to 
repeat it here, as without doubt she will communicate 
it to you. All that will be necessary to add to that 
account is that my pains are lessened, though my 
weakness I think is increased, being unable to turn 
myself in bed without assistance. The hopes of my 
physician seem to increase, but for my own part, I 
have little or no hope as to this life. I wish this in- 



246 



formation to be sent to my father as tenderly as 
possible, and 1 know no person so well adapted to do it 
as yourself— wbo can accompany it with those consola- 
tions of the Gospel with which yon are so-intimately 
acquainted, and which have so lon^ formed the support 
of your own life* I need not add that these, consola- 
tions support me in my afflictions, and enable me^e 
apply at present the comfortable words of Scripture-^ 
** My grace shall be sufficient for thee, and all things 
shall work together for good to them that love God." 
May I request you to perform the same favour in your 
next letter to Mr. A., with regard to him, as with 
regard to my father. I am tired with dictating, and I 
cannot better conclude . than by reminding the whole 
family, whom I dearly love, that our holy religion 
teaches us, that though parting in death we shall be 
united in life, where parting, sorrow and death are 
known no more. I am, my dear madam, your*s," &c. 

The following day Mr. Goodier expired ; he retained 
his composure and resignation to the last, and his own 
former conviction was realized, that ** he believed he 
should have hope even in death." His hostess^ whose 
kindness soothed his departing hours, communicated to 
his friends in England the particular circumstances of 
his death, in the following terms. 

<< You desire to be made acquainted with the minutest 
details of the life, and death of this excellent young 
man. I will endeavour to give you all possible satis- 
faction ; but you will suffer me to omit the recital of 
those agonizing pains which for the last three months I 
saw him endure. Soon after his arrival here his dis- 



247 

order took aa alarming appearance; and though he 
then became convinced that his malady was incurable, 
that conviction had no power to shake the firmness of 
his soul, his cheerfulness was unabated, and the bene- 
volent sweetness of his manners continued till he drew 
his last bteath. When on his death-bed, he used to 
request the students, on their ' visiting him, to unite 
with him in the prayers addressed ta the Almighty, by 
the minister whose pious offices he had desired, and on 
these occasions he edified all around him by his 
patience and resignation. The sufferings he endured 
in his throat, the last two days, prevented .the usual 
distinctness of his speech ; but all that I could gather 
from his lips throaghout those trying moments, were 
words of true sabmission to the decrees of Providence, 
and of consolation for us ; consolation which he 
entreated us likewise to impart to his father, and his 
other good friends in England. With undiminished 
fortitude, he expressed his last wishes respecting the 
rewards to be given in his name to his attendants ; then 
informed us in what way he desired to have his funeral 
conducted ; dictated an inscription for his tomb, and 
then expired.' 



»• 



Mr. Goodierdied on the 2drd July, 1818, and on the 
25th his funeral took place, which was attended by all the 
professors of the college, the Protestant ministers aod 
students, and the English who dweh there. M. Moline, 
the minister who had daily attended him to administer 
the consolations of the Gospel, delivered an appropriate 
address at the grave. Thus at the age of twenty- five^ 
in the spring of life and youth, was he taken away, in 

x3 



248 



the midst of increanng usefulnen and virtue, in the 
▼ery opening of all his henerolent plans and superior 
pursuits, and while existence still wore to hiin the charm 
of early freshness and hope ; it had indeed been 
embittered with disease and clouded with disappoint- 
menty but his mind had risen superior to all fats 
afflictions, his spirit had retained all its cheerfulness 
and vigour, and to the last moment his love of life, 
his love of usefulness remained undiminished. How 
much was snch a heart called upon to resign, and how 
firm must have been the principles which bore him up 
under such a trial ! To us indeed it' appears an untimely 
call, which took him from a world he was labouring to 
benefit, and from many increasing sources of improve- 
ment and happiness, but though a dark, it was, no doubt, 
a merciful dispensation. '*To him, to live was Christy and 
to die was gain." From pain and disease, from trial and 
bereavement^ he passed to the abodes of peace and joy, 
and exchanged the frail and vanishing pursuits of time, 
for the happiness and glory of immortality. Death set 
the everlasting seal on his virtues, and short as his life 
was, it was yet long enough to hold forth a bright 
example of Christian piety and excellence. The 
successful exertions he made for the moral improvement 
of others, are also a convincing proof that no situation 
of life is devoid of great and extensive opportunities 
of good, where the benevolent disposition prevails, and 
that no disinterested and Christian effort, however small 
or humble, is eventually lost. He is also a striking 
instance of the great importance of the example of 
virtuous and intelligent parents ; the habits of industry, 
self government, and desire of mental improvement. 



■1 



249 

the foundation of M^hich was laid in his infancy, no 
doubt contributed g^reatly to the formation of his future 
character. His tnother^s resignation during a long and 
severe sickness, and her continued exertions for her 
family must also have had a very beneficial effect upon 
him. He possiessed a warm and affectionate heart, a 
lively disposition, and a clear and cultivated judgniient; 
he had an excellent memory, and great mental activity 
and perseverance. Indeed the ardour of his mind 
carried him on in his pursuits with a rapidity that 
surprised those around him. He had a quick perception 
of character, and was remarkable for the exactness and 
minuteness of his observation ; moral and mental 
philosophy were his favourite studies, but he was also 
an enthusiastic admirer of the charms of nature ; beau- 
tiful scenery never failed to excite him to animated 
feelings of joy, and gratitude, and his descriptions of 
the scenes he past through are very pleasingly and 
faithfully detailed. To his powers of penetration, lie 
united a simplicity and singleness of heart which were 
truly delightful ; his temper was peculiarly amiable and 
cheerful, his spirits generally lively, and his manners 
at once gentle and dignified ; he united to sincere 
Christian humility, that '^self-respect which is the surest 
means of obtaining the respect of others^ and. which 
marks that boundary which familiarity or presumption 
may not pass ;^* but he was at the same time perfectly 
open and easy of access, and possessed that deep 
interest in even the humblest of his fellow beings, that 
expansive kindness, which Christianity alone can give. 
In a short account of his life in the Christian Reformer, 
October, 1818, it is said << He felt warmly for the 



250 

cenmos people, whom he held in a degree of respeet, 
whiefa is perhaps rare ia those that in their early days 
have seen mnch of them, and hate been afterwards 
raised somewhat higher in the scale of society." His 
attaehment to his immediate friends, many of whom 
adorned their hamble station with virtnes and piety 
which would have done honor to any rank, was constant 
and unremitting, and only increased by time and 
absence ; and his devotion to the friendships he after* 
wards formed, ended only with his life. Mr. Goodier 
was an Unitarian in principle, a firm belieyer in the 
evidences of natural and revealed religion, from matare 
investigation, and his zeal and activity in the cause of 
what he believed to be Christian truths was only 
exceeded by his charity. He endeavoured to open to 
the poor those simple and consoling troths, that pure 
and practical Christianity, which guides the Hfe and 
improves the conduct, and to teach them the fatherly 
character of God, and the wisdom and goodness of all 
his dispensations. He was an earnest advocate for free 
inquiry, and in the meetings for religious discussion, 
which took place in his early youths be distinguished 
himself by the great interest be took in them. His 
own discourses from the pulpit were clear, impressive 
and plain, and possessed that natural eloquence, which 
coming from the heart, is sure to affect the feelings of 
the hearers ; he was attentive to instruct and convince, 
as well as to interest them, and to enlighten their 
understandings while he engaged their feelings, and his 
efforts were not unsuccessful. Had he been longer 
spared, he would no doubt have realized the fondest 
expectations ; by his early removal he has left an 



■■ 



251 

example which will long be revered and cherished in 
the hearts of those who knew and loved him, and which 
18 a striking evidence of the power of Christian prin- 
ciple to increase the value and happiness of life^ and 
afford peace and consolation in death. He was^ indeed, 
tenderly beloved and deeply lamented ; bat the best 
tribute which^ his friends can pay to his memory, the 
one most acceptable to his own pure spirit, will be to 
cultivate the same dispositions which blest his life, and 
enabled him to resign himself into the hands of his 
Creator with gratitude and with joy. 



258 



LINES. 

If modest virtue, and a heart and mind. 
Which glow'd with love of God, and human kind ; 
Whose pure ambition was all fizt abova ; 
Whose deeds were those of merey and of lore ; 
Whose only aim, while he remained belov. 
Was to abate the sum of human woe. 
And scatter blessings. If the purest £uth 
That erer smil'd on suffering, and on death ; 
And the most calm submission, e'en in pain. 
Which might have thrill'd with fear the firmest yein ; 
A Heayen-enduring gentleness — a joy. 
Which sickness could not quell, or death destroy ; 
If these can wake one spark of Christian flame. 
Our souls shall kindle, Goodier ! at thy name ! 

J. £* R. 



2S3 



AN INTRODUCTORY PRAYER. 

O Thou, the ever-present and all-powerful GOD ! who 
alone hearest and anawerest the prayers of the children 
of men ! unto thee should all flesh come, and with 
humble reverence^ with sacred gratitude, with Christian 
fervency should adore thy perfections, acknowledge 
thy goodness, and supplicate thy mercy ; it is a good 
thing for us, thine imperfect creatures and unwordly 
servants, to appear in thy presence, and engage in thy 
worship ; it is comely for us to prostrate ourselves at 
the feet of our Benefactor, our Father, and our God ; 
and it is pleasant to consider the dealings of thy 
providence, and to look forward to the heavenly rest 
which thou hast provided for the faithful pilgrims of 
mortality. We therefore hail with pious joy the return 
of this holy day, which calls us from the distracting 
cares and the ensnaring pleasures of the world, which 
bids us to forget even its troubles, and opens to us the 
sanctuary of thine house. We are thankful in this 
renewed opportunity of holy communion with thee, 
the Father of our spirits, and of hearing that Word 
which is able to speak peace to the afBicted, pardon to 
the penitent, and salvation to the faithfully obedient; 
O ! Lord, we would love the beauty of thine house, 
and the place where thine honour dwelleth. We rejoice 
in the return of a day, which reminds us of the great 
victory over death and the grave> which our ascended 



€54 

SaTioar has gained, by which our immortal birth-rtgbt 
is made known and ensnred» and our heavenly citizen- 
ship confirmed. O God ! appearing as we do before 
thee, in the character of Christians, animated as we 
are by Christian hopes, may onr devotion be at once 
reverent and cheerfal. While the reflection that we 
stand in the glorious presence of the Infinite Majesty 
of Heaven and Earth, casts down within ^us every 
imagination that e!iAalfeth itself against thee, and gives 
US the spirit of humility, nay we be preserved 
from debasing fears, by considering that thoa art 
willing to be addressed as oar Father in Heaven, in 
I whose service there is no slavery. Give the blessing, 

giacioos God ! to the -means of grace attended on this 
day ; sanctify them to our good. As the rain cometfa 
down from Heaven, and retnrneth not thither, bat 
watereth the earth, and maketh it fruitful, so let the 
word which shall be delivered accomplish thy good 
pleasure, and prosper in those to whom it is sent; like 
good seed may it bring forth fruit unto holiness, that 
our end may be everlasting life in Jesus Christ— -Amen. 

I 

GENERAL PRAYER. 

O Lord our God ! thou art very great; thou art 
clothed with honour and majesty ; thou art the blessed 
and only Potentate, the King of Kings, and Liord of 
Lords; thou ooverest thyself with light as with a 
garment ; thou dwellest in light inaccessible and full 
of glory, so that no mortal eye hath seen thee, or can 



iA.^ 



BC_iaaAM^La 



heUBiblei. thy gretttnett tiN!«lieeiVttMe;^'¥^th c(MfiU«d^ 
capMlties-atid faeuHies'^xeeedittgiyiMtbdJ the g^edttet^ 
eflbrtfifof ^ar mind; and th^ YAgHe&V cbli«epti6ils' ii/t^ 
CM fbmr, <mly senre'tb^itfiiM^ittHliat^nfe tijT'si^t^U- 
ing* ctti ind* out tlree', tito Alifiightir, uttto^i^erfbjrtKnr. 
We aii« kM'in tbfdfl immeittity ! tiefi^'tAtee' wir shriidt^ 
Hrttrnolbittg, and t^tti thaiv notNht^'attd Srtihity. 0'!' 
magr tins' reflection fill ii« wftlif reftf ettc^^ amdh'ttttiiUty. 
Mliy it di«ck every light and catreltesilitougbt'; may it 
destroy erety prond-atid faatiglilty' f^eHofg ; andniay it 
ie«cli- ns^ that Uere airare'eqtfid; because all are' as' 
nothing ! O' God'! the €fre«^ of all wnrldis^ and 
Benefactor of all beings*, thiue hands hate made and 
fashioned hs r in^- tbee' ite^ live and move, afkd in thy 
keeping is» tbesoidbfevevy living' thing", and tfhte' breath 
of all mankind^ we- praise thee foir distance, ii^uhiajik' 
thee for tby prti^id^ntial' goodness and fatherly care; 
andwerej^ee id the > powers of ottf bodies, and th^ 
Realties of onr souls. Tlr6aglt the most ezdfed 
creatnre cannot faUy comprehtend' thee^ th^ infinites 
Creator, yeci by thine iaspirati«tf> thou hast given as^ 
niider8taadnig,.andiwe a«e e$ipMd o#> discovering^ frontf 
the things thatd^^ippear^ pveofs of thy being, ismk$ 
of thaieetenia)po«^e», and evidnn^es of • thy glorious 
and gracious charaeter. O. Lovdl how manifold are 
tby works I in wisdom hast thou made thett aU^! the 
earth is full of: the riches of thy gioodneas^ and on every 
side we behold innnmerable tribes of firing things for 
whose happy existence' thou hast prorided, rejoieingf 
together! These all wait upon thee, that thou maysif 
give them thehr- meat intdno season:; thoo waterest the 



256 



lulb from thy chamben ; thoa satisfiest the earth with 
frmtfnl showen ; thon cansaGit the grasB to grow for 
cattle, and herb for the service of man ; thou openest 
thine hand, and all are fiUed with good. Yet not to this, 
earth alone is thy goodness confined ; it is nniyersai as 
creation, and in the regions of space we beheld wi)rlds 
vpon worlds, and system npon system, moving on in 
grandenr and hannony ; each visited by thy glwy, and 
each showing forth the praise of thee, the Creatw and 
Loid of all. The boundless contemplation shall fill ns 
with holy rapture, and we will resolve to sing unto thee 
as long as we live, to sing praise to our God, while we 
have any being ; our meditation of thee shall be sweet, 
and we will be glad in the Lord. 

O Thou, the Author of Mercies, and the God of our 

Salvation ! As the heaven is high above the earth, so high 

is thy mercy above our deserts, and even oi^r hopes. 

To the blessings of Creation and Providence thou 

hast added the riches of thy grace, iu bestowing the 

Gospel of thy Son. Thou hast so loved the world as 

to send Jesus Christ, our elder brother, to enlighten 

our minds with heavenly truth. Thou hast revealed 

thyself to us, as our Father in Heaven ; merciful and 

gracious, indulgent and kind, and to crown all, thou 

hast dispersed the darkness that hung upon the grave, 

and hast assured us that though we shall sleep in the 

dust, and the night of death shall seal our eyes, yet we 

shall again awake and behold the dawning of an 

eternal day. If we be faithful and obedient thou 

hast opened a prospect of glory, and honour, and 

immortality ; of a state in Hifhich we shall advance, 

from high to still higher degrees of happiness, and 



-^^^ ^.*i*_ Ui?^ 



257 

enjoy clearer and still clearer diisplays of thee, the only 
great y the only good. Lord ! what shall we render 
unto thee for this thine unspeakable gift to us, the 
unworthy children of men ! Thy love is above our 
praise ; bur powers fail when we attempt to rise to those 
heights of gratitude which it justly demands. We 
will therefore revere thee in the stillness of the soul ^ 
we will adore thee in silence ; and through thy g^ace 
we will dedicate to thee our hearts and lives, living to 
thy praise^ and promoting thy will. To thee^ the only 
wise God, be glory for ever and ever. — Amen. 



*>»>»»«w>»*«i>**«i»«i>«w>i« n «>oi 



A CONCLUDING PRAYER. 

O, Thou God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ ! 
the Father of all Mercies, and the God of all Comfort 
and Consolation ! At the close of our public waitings 
upon thee, we would address ourselves unto thee in 
the language of devout thanksgiving, for all the 
spiritoal mercies we enjoy through the revelation of 
thy Son. Above all would we thank thee, that by 
him the veil has been drawn which hid from our eyes 
the world to come, and life and immortality have been 
fuUy and clearly brought to light. grant, we be- 
seech thee, that this knowledge may possess our minds 
with all its practical influence, and cause us in all things 
to think and to act as those who have here no abiding 
habitation, but are seeking a home whose foundations 
are eternal ! May we never forget that death, which 
may now be at the door, will be succeeded by judg^ 



i60 



ber tliy beDefits, and caU upon all that is within oa to 
blcaa thy holy name. O, thou universal and indolent 
Parent ! who deairest the happiness of every member of 
thy Tast family, auid to secure their well being, hast.fcnit 
them together by the bonds of relationship, and ,the 
ties of affection, we would olBTer our acknowledgments 
unto thee for all the blessings arising from, rautnai 
friendship and social intercourse, which we,, as an indi<^ 
Tidual family, have receivedfrom thee, the Father of all 
the families of the earth. How often have peace, and 
harmony, and love dwelt within our walls ? how often 
have joy and gladness .filled our hearts? We praise 
thee also for the plentiful supply thou hast bestowed 
upon us of our continually returning wants ; day by 
day thou hast given us our daily bread. We thank 
thee for the frequent opportunities we enjoy of 
improving our minds and bettering our hearts by 
meditation, conversation, and reading. And O, thou 
gracious Being ! above all do we bless thee for the 
many seasons we enjoy of assembling ourselves 
together, viewing ourselves as thy children, through 
the Gospel heirs of immortal life and happiness, 
prostrating ourselves at tby footstool, and presenting 
our united tribute of thanksgiving and praise. O, 
that a spirit of ardent gratitude and filial love may 
fill our breasts and influence all our actions, and that 
for these instances of thy great goodness, we may 
consider it as our reasonable service to present unto 
thee the offering of devoted hearts and obedient lives. 
We lament ! O thou Sovereign, Ruler, and Judge of 
all ! we lament that we should ever have proved our- 
selves unworthy the relation in which we stand (unto 



S6l 



thee) BB thy creatures, who are continually receiving 
8o many proofs of thy unfailing goodness and fatherly 
care. On a review of our past conduct many instances 
arise to convict us of ingratitude, and show that we 
have sinned in thy sight, and are unworthy to be called 
thy children. But O, thou merciful Being! feeling a 
deep sense of our guilt, and an earnest desire to reform 
every evil habit, we venture to supplicate thy forgive- 
ness. Help us itk our resolutions to live for the future 
more devoted to thy glory, and more regular in the 
discharge of every religious and social duty ; distin- 
guished as we are by the multitude of thy loving 
kindnesses and tender mercies, may we distinguish 
ourselves by the purity of our conversation, and the 
usefulness of our lives. Under the conviction that 
thou art our constant bcDefactor, our Father and 
Friend, may we daily surround the family altar, and 
in the spirit of devotion pour out before thee our 
grateful acknowledgments. And grant that by the 
regular discharge of the external duties of religion^ 
our minds may be filled with its spirit, a spirit of 
affection and love. May it be our highest ambition 
to imitate thee ; our constant aim to excel in virtue 
and holiness ; and our ardent wish to provoke each 
other to nothing but love and good works ! Thus 
breathing the same spirit, and speaking the same 
thing, may we (and our house) serve thee, the Lord. 
And showing by our example how good and how 
pleasant a thing it is for brethren to dwell together 
in unity, may we lead others to love each other, and to 
glorify thee, their Father in Heaven. 

The blessings we ask for ourselves^ we beseech thee, 



t6« 

O Ihon common Parent ! to bestow vpon all onr ftllow 
ereatvet. Calm we entreat thee aU the angry paaeions 
of "i—^V*"^) and lead them to promote on earth peace 
and good-will| that all maj at length unite b ascribing 
glory in the highest, to thee, the Father of their 
spirits, and the Gbd of their lives. To thee, O God ! 
do we address these imperfect prayers, hoping in thy 
mercy, entreating thine acceptance. To thy guidance 
would we conmitt oursdTes for what remains of life, 
and to thee would we ascribe, as the disciples of Jesus 
Christ, all honour and glory, now and for CTer.— 
Amen. 



FAMILY PRAYE^l. 

No. 2. 

O Thou supremely great and all-glorious Creator! 
thou hast made us capable of meditating on thy being, 
and of adoring thy perfect attributes, and of loving 
thy most amiable character ; and thou art daily calling 
on us, by the blessings of thy providence and the 
inritations of thy word^ with thanksgiving to pour out 
our acknowledgments, and by prayer and supplications 
to make known our requests unto thee. We desire 
to hear thy invitations with ready obedience ; we would 
call off our attention from the things of time and sense, 
and would engage all the powers of our minds and all 
the affections of our hearts in the serious exercise of 
thy worship. Graciously condescend, we beseech 



263 



thee» to our infirmities, hear our prayers, and aecept 
our thanksgiyings. We adore and worship thee as the 
only Governor and all-wise Disposer of events. Thou 
art possessed of infinite wisdom to devise, and nn- 
limited power to carry tl^y designs intQ execution. 
Thou doest whatsoever thou pleasest in the armies of 
heaven above, and amongst the inhabitants of the earth 
beneath. None can stay thy hand or say unto thee. 
What doest thou ? Thine is the kingdom, and the 
power, and the glory, and the majesty, and thou art 
worthy to be worshipped as head over all. Under a 
conviction of our own weakn^, and of our inability 
to provide for our own happiness, we rejoice, O God i 
thpt we, in common with all thy creatures, entirely 
depend on thee ; and that in thee we live, and move, 
and have our being. In the review of our past lives, 
we see many prpofa, not only that thou art perfect in 
power and. infinite in understanding, but that thou art 
good and de^gbt«it to do good, and that thy tender 
mercies are over all thy works. Our lives, which we 
at first received from thee, have been marked with 
innumerable instances of thy loving kindness : each 
succeeding day has borne witness to the richness of 
that grace which is from everlasting and to everlasting, 
and which extendeth to all thy creatures. Praised be 
thy napie that the lines have fallen unto us in such 
pleasant places, and that we have had so goodly a 
heritage. In an especial manner would we bless thee, 
O thou God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the 
Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort and 
consolation ! that in the Gospel of thy Son, ihoo art 
revealing thyself under the endearing character of our 



264 



Father in HeaTen ; that thou art inyitiDg; us to repen- 
tance and amendment of life, by the assurance that 
thou art ready to forgire, and plenteous in mercy 
towards all that call upon thee ; that thou art leading^ 
us to put our trust in thee, and to engage in thy 
service, by promising thy favour and blessing in this 
world, and in the world to come, glory, honour, and 
immortality. 

O, thou all-perfect Being ! from whom all holy desires 
do proceed, grant, we pray thee, that we may always 
be disposed to hear thy invitations, and to rejoice in 
thy promises. May the glad tidings of the Gospel 
make a proper impression upon us, and by obe3^ng 
thy most holy will, may we eagerly lay hold of eternal 
life ! O God, whose eyes behold the nations, who art 
a great king over all the earth, and by thy providence 
over-rulest the designs of men, putting down one and 
setting up another, hear, we beseech thee, the prayers 
of thy people, for th^ universal and permanent 
establishment of peace and righteousness. May the 
angry passions of the children of men be calmed — 
may the tyrannical and destructive schemes of ambition 
be confounded — ^may the wickedness of the wicked, in 
all its various forms, come to an end — and may there 
be abundance of peace so long as the sun and moon 
endure ! Visit, with thy blessing, the land of our 
nativity. May righteousness inhabit our borders, and 
prosperity visit our dwellings ! Let all ranks and 
degrees of men, from the chief magistrate to the 
lowest subject, be distinguished by the careful per- 
formance of their respective duties. Counsel and 
guide all in authority ; aU judges, all governors, all 



.^♦«< 



265 



pablic instractorSy all parents aid masters of families; 
comfort the distressed, relieve the poor, guard the 
young from evil, protect the defenceless, be the friend 
of the widow, and the father of the orphan. God ! 
unto thee we look, in thee we trust ; lead us by the 
means of thy gracious Providence to thine everlasting 
kingdom and gloiy, through Christ Jesus the beloved. 
•^Amen, 



VINIS. 



«$& 



SONNET 



ON THE 

DEATH OF THE REV. B, GOODIER. 

(From ike Momihig Repoiiiorj„U\%^ 



Km teapttl-toit upon the stormy mais. 
We view « little duff before ns ride. 
And boldly wrestling with the adrene tide ; 

Hie wished for haven all securely gium. 

How eagerly we urge our bark along. 
Nor heed the swellings of the boisterous gale, 
That scatters in tfie wind our slender sail, 

As the wild mountain-billows round us throng ; 

So when the Tirtuons yield their mortal trust. 
Though youth or beauty perish in the tomb ; 
Yet hope shines brighter 'mid the fiineral gloom. 

To- guide us to the mansions of the just ; 
And we will haste to gain that land of rest, 
Where hope is certainty, and rirtue blest. 



p * » V3 



s 



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