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 https://archive.org/details/extractsfromprisOOjohn 
 
E X T R A C T S 
 
 FROM 
 
 PRISCILLA JOHNSTON’S JOURNAL 
 
 AND LETTERS 
 
 CARLISLE : 
 
 CHARLES THURNAM AND SONS. 
 
 1 8 6 2 . 
 
CHILDHOOD. 
 
 ACCOUNT OF 
 
 PRISCILLA BUXTON’S CHILDHOOD, 
 
 WRITTEN BY HER MOTHER. 
 
 My dearest child Priscilla was born at Earlham Hall, near 
 Norwich, February 25, 1808, in the room that was afterwards 
 my sister Catherine’s. 
 
 It was delightful having a child born at Earlham, and much 
 was made of the event and of her — the first child born there 
 since my brother Dan, in 1791. 
 
 When she was about six months old we settled in a house 
 lent us in Southampton Row, Russell Square. Here Priscilla 
 soon became the most lively, active baby I ever saw. She 
 had a most providential escape from scarlet fever. I, in my 
 inexperience, went to see a child who had it, and caught the 
 fever. I had sent Priscilla to spend the day at St. Mildred’s 
 Court with her Aunt Fry. That day I sickened, and it proved a 
 severe illness. When recovered I thought I might have her home : 
 she came. When the doctors happily called and ordered her 
 away again. That evening, when her father returned the fever 
 was upon him, and he became at once dangerously ill. After a 
 time my beloved husband was restored, and at last we were 
 allowed to rejoin our child, whose animation and merriment were 
 remarkable. 
 
IV 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 1809-15. set. 1-7. 
 
 
 In January, 1809, we settled at the Brewery, Brick Lane ; 
 Priscilla eleven months old. That same day she walked off 
 through several rooms. 
 
 One day she attempted to rebel against her father’s will, and 
 1 remember my distress on seeing him strike her rather sharply 
 when in his arms, and her screams in consequence ; but it had 
 the best effect upon her will, and I do not think she ever dis- 
 obeyed him afterwards. 
 
 We were much at Hampstead with our brother and sister, 
 Sam and Louisa Hoare, and very happy with one another and 
 our children. 
 
 At a very early age Priscilla received some religious impres- 
 sions ; and, before she could read it, liked to have a Bible and 
 take it to bed with her. One day, my sister Cunningham being 
 with us, she saw Prissy in bed, her countenance looking heavenly. 
 Her aunt said to her, “ My darling, what are you doing ? ” She 
 replied, simply and sweetly, “ I am thinking about God.” 
 
 In March, 1815, I write in my journal: — “Priscilla has been 
 an object of intense interest to me. I am thankful to find the 
 seeds of what I believe to be grace in the heart. Last Sunday 
 she told me she felt particularly comfortable, because, she said, 
 “ she trusted in herself that she had been doing the will of 
 God ; and now, mamma, the reward seems all ready, everything 
 so pleasant.” 
 
 She was eminently alive to what was wrong, and earnestly 
 desired to follow God. We learnt the Old Testament most accu- 
 
CHILDHOOD. 
 
 181 o-l 7. set. 7-9. 
 
 V 
 
 rately together — the history of the Israelites, the particulars of 
 the Tabernacle, the chronology, geography, &c. 
 
 In June, 1815, we moved to North End, Hampstead. Our 
 object was to be near our brother and sister, and to bring up our 
 children together. We then had eight between us, one sweet little 
 girl had been taken from us, and Priscilla was then the only 
 girl, with seven boy companions — four of the Hoares, and three 
 her own brothers. The one girl was very delightful amongst 
 the troop of boys. 
 
 In 1816 we were several months at Earlham, in consequence 
 of a trying complaint in Priscilla’s hip, for which she was closely 
 confined and kept from all lessons except what I could teach 
 her. She was perfectly sweet and easy, and, as usual, unfailingly 
 industrious throughout this long illness. 
 
 Oct. 27, 1816. — I write of her — (8 years old). I had some 
 very interesting conversation with Prissy this morning. She 
 told me she had passed a few minutes the night before, during 
 which she had been remarkably happy and had felt more sub- 
 dued than she ever did in her life ; that the fear of death had been 
 much removed. She had, no doubt, been anxious about her 
 health. Towards the end of that year she became much stronger. 
 
 Sept. 10, 1817. — My dearest Priscilla was in a delightfully 
 communicative mind this evening. I had been reading to her 
 and Fowell* the first verses of the 3rd chapter of St. John’s 
 Gospel. She said she could not distinguish the Spirit working 
 
 * Died 1820. 
 
vi CHILDHOOD. 1817. let. 9. 
 
 in her ; that she sometimes had an indistinct feeling that a thing 
 was right, without exactly knowing why ; but that she was 
 better satisfied if she did these things. “For instance, I had a 
 feeling this morning that I ought to take Fowell his books, and 
 so I did it ; and things occur like that a hundred times a day.” 
 She wished to know from what this ai’ose, and seemed fully to 
 enter into it when I explained the operations of conscience. 
 
 Dec. 8, 1817.- — My dearest child and I have had much in- 
 teresting conversation. She told me that she had often of late 
 been strongly inclined to pray, that she had wanted a quiet 
 place, though she did pray at lessons and at other times. Often 
 of a night she was not disposed to pray ; but that when she 
 began by reviewing the day she found she could pray (no doubt 
 under a sense of mercies received and transgressions to be for- 
 given), and iu this state she “glided off to sleep.” 
 
 Her father was a most congenial, indulgent companion to 
 this precious child ; cultivating her mind, exercising her powers, 
 and pleasing her by entering into her pursuits. They both were 
 extremely fond of poetry, and he enjoyed to exercise her, as she 
 advanced in years, in learning it rapidly. They would vie with 
 each other in learning by heart, in our various journeys especially. 
 I remember they once learned one of Swift’s long poems with 
 only reading it once. Then he would ask her difficult cyphering 
 questions, and in many ways amuse and interest her. She was 
 devotedly fond of him, and her love to, and dependence upon 
 me too, was most precious. 
 
3 820-22. set. 12-14. 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Often she suffered much from ill health, and in all my anxiety 
 about her we were most nearly united, and drawn closer and 
 closer together. One day I expressed to her how much I felt 
 the need of patience for us both — “ It is a great duty,” she said : 
 “ I should be miserable if I thought these things were left to 
 chance.” She told me how her constant indisposition led to a 
 distaste for the things of the world, at the same time to an 
 increase of faith and love of the world to come. 
 
 Priscilla twelve years old. Through all our sorrowful, over- 
 whelming trials,* she was our devoted, loving, sympathizing 
 child. My expression about her at the time is, “Prissy greatly 
 upheld.” Truly strong in faith, in knowledge, and in apprecia- 
 tion of the truth, though suffering much in health and acutely 
 afflicted by our bereavements, she strove to be our comforter, 
 and diligently searched the Scriptures to bring consoling and 
 helpful texts and thoughts to me. We went to Tunbridge Wells, 
 and there she was my invaluable companion and friend ; and I 
 remember her especially at that time as a girl full of mind and 
 feeling, sweetness, and constant love, with great simplicity. 
 
 Two years later, the journal thus continues — 
 
 Cromer Hall, March 8. — My dearest Priscilla has been seized 
 with a renewed attack of hip complaint, and we are ordered 
 to remain here for some weeks longer. She said to me when she 
 woke this morning: “Two texts are a great comfort to me in 
 pain — ‘ It is through much tribulation that we are to enter the 
 
 The death of her four sisters. 
 
CHILDHOOD. 
 
 1822. set. 1+. 
 
 kingdom of heaven’ ; and, ! To you it is given in the behalf of 
 Christ, not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for His 
 sake.’ ” She does indeed most sweetly bear the trial, though it 
 is a very great one to her, poor dear child. 
 
 March 21, Sunday. — My dearest Priscilla told me, when I 
 returned from church, that she had passed a delightful morning 
 with Miss Wilkinson. She said : “ I have had a great deal of 
 pain to day, but have felt a true willingness to bear it, or even 
 an increase of it ; I feel that £ it is the Lord,’ and, therefore, 
 that I will not only bear it because I cannot help it, but cheer- 
 fully submit. We must believe, and give ourselves wholly up to 
 God ; we must cast all our^care upon Him ; we must have faith, 
 and apply it, it must bring forth fruit — ' Herein is my Father 
 glorified that ye bear much fruit.’ ” She seemed truly comforted, 
 and said, “ Had I not been given real help this morning 1 should 
 have been most uncomfortable ; but such power has been given 
 me that I have been quite able to bear the pain. I feel that, 
 meekly and entirely submitting to God, gives me a right, if I 
 may say so, to receive his help and blessing, to lay hold of the 
 promises, to receive the benefit of trials.” She is most willing 
 to do whatever I like, and is moved into the ante-room to be 
 employed with the boys ; indeed, the Spirit appears to dwell in 
 and over her. 
 
 March 25. — She still has a good deal of pain. She said 
 to me this morning that she had found great help through the 
 night from this verse, “ Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace 
 
1822. fet. 14. childhood. ix 
 
 whose mind is stayed upon Thee.” To rely with implicit con- 
 fidence, to he stayed upon the promises, does give perfect peace. 
 
 Sunday, April 1. — My dearest Priscilla looked very poorly 
 and languid during my reading with her and the hoys. When 
 they were gone I tried to comfort her. She acknowledged with 
 thankfulness the help she had had during last week, and said 
 she thought we ought to pray that this week might be attended 
 with the same blessings. No one, she said, she wished for so 
 much as her uncle Joseph, he suits her so exactly, better than 
 any other minister, and she has often wished for him ; and, 
 “ nothing in the world,” she said with tears, “ is like papa’s love 
 to me ! ” She turned to various texts describing the trial to be 
 expected here, the comfort given, and the hope to come — “ In the 
 world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer, I have 
 overcome the world.” She then prayed, that if it were not the 
 will of her heavenly Father that this cup should be removed, His 
 will, not hers, might be done. 
 
 April 14. — My dearest child has been for some days in an 
 unusually cloudy state, and I felt unable to minister to her. 
 Yesterday she told me she was far more comfortable, she had 
 felt with such uncommon power the invitation, “ Knock, and it 
 shall be opened unto you”; it had been the greatest comfort to 
 her, and ability to pray had wonderfully removed the cloud she 
 had been under. This evening she talked with great feeling on 
 the pain it was to her to be kept from London, and from the 
 House of Commons during the Criminal Law debate ; but at the 
 
X 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 1822. ret. 14. 
 
 same time that the cross of this, and of other things was acutely 
 felt, a willingness which she could not describe was at times given 
 her, to endure whatever might be appointed for her. She some- 
 times was ready to think no one could experience as she did 
 what it was to enjoy the presence of God. She knew this was 
 not the case, but it was so wonderful to her that she could hardly 
 believe it was enjoyed by others. No one could partake of or 
 know the degree of cross she had to bear, and so was the help 
 individual to herself. 
 
 I The journal is continued after her mother received her in 
 
 London, having been for a time absent from her. 
 
 June 1. — I have felt excessively seeing my beloved Priscilla 
 suffer as she does, and in all respects finding her worse than when 
 I left her. She sa} r s she has felt her own case much more serious 
 the last few days, especially to-day ; but that this had not made 
 her uncomfortable. She says she feels so the responsibility of 
 being thus laid up for months, in the present and for the future 
 — the call to receive it aright, to bear it as she ought. In a most 
 meek and lowly spirit she expressed these thoughts. I read to 
 her by accident “ He will beautify the meek with salvation.” 
 Truly a promise for her ! She told me that for years she had 
 rather looked to not living to be a woman ; that the prospect of 
 death was sometimes most soothing and comforting to her ; that 
 it never excited dread, though the thought often made her low. 
 
 Cromer Hall, Oct. 27.— My beloved girl has been decidedly 
 better the last few weeks, and is now able to walk a little without 
 
CHILDHOOD. 
 
 1822. set. 14 
 
 xi 
 
 difficulty. Ob ! may it teach us patient waiting upon the Lord. 
 A few days ago we had some interesting conversations, in which 
 she seriously expressed her confidence that the whole dispensation 
 had been inexpressibly blessed to her, and that it had taught her 
 the truth of religion and invisible things in a way she could not 
 describe. She said no one could know the exercise of principle 
 it had been from day to day and hour to hour. Now she rejoices 
 greatly in the measure of liberty allowed her, and in being able 
 to move about alone a very little. 
 
 Dec. 22. — My dearest Priscilla is wonderfully restored ; the 
 complaint apparently gone, though it has left her delicate. To-day 
 she told me with tears what her experience of the power and 
 presence of God had been to her ; that the remembrance of it 
 filled her with gratitude. I expressed my desire that we might 
 be deeply thankful for her recovery ; she answered, with the 
 deepest feeling, “ Not more so, mamma, than for the illness.” 
 
1820-22. tet. 12-14. early life. 1 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM 
 PRISCILLA BUXTON’S JOURNALS, 
 
 BEGINNING MAY, 1820. 
 
 Tunbridge Wells, May 30. 
 
 Got up at a quarter to seven. Very interesting reading and 
 intimate conversation with my beloved mamma. What a blessing 
 
 is such a mother to me ! Felt vexed at ’s having written 
 
 in my Pascal ; but with prayer endeavoured, and at last suc- 
 ceeded in overcoming these discontented and wrong thoughts. 
 Did not like to learn the passage she. chose for me; and, for 
 why ? because she chose it for me ; for, when I calmly and reason- 
 ably looked it over, I could not have desired a more excellent 
 passage. O Lord, do thou more and more subject my proud and 
 stubborn heart ! 
 
 Hampstead, July, 1822. 
 
 My wishes for my journal are, that I should not copy from 
 anybody’s journal. Aunt Hoare has let me see great parts of 
 her old journals, when she was a child, and it is from seeing how 
 valuable these old documents are to her now, that makes me 
 wish to keep a journal myself. Perhaps it may end in my onlv 
 writing on Sundays. I do not wish to write a religious journal, 
 or to make any point of writing anything which is not exactly 
 the uppermost thing in my mind. 
 
2 EARLY LIFE. 1822. set. 14. 
 
 I am now fourteen years and five months, during which five 
 months I have not walked once, owing to a third attack of pain 
 in my hip. Before we left Cromer Hall this is the way we 
 spent our days : — Directly after breakfast we did a little botany, 
 that is to say, examined a few flowers, found out their classes 
 and orders ; then we read a few chapters in the Bible, with 
 Henry’s Commentary ; after that, we read a chapter in “ Watts 
 on the Mind ; ” by twelve or one we had done this, and then I 
 generally read Italian with Christiana*; after that, I used some- 
 times to go out, I was carried down stairs and out on a mattress. 
 Nobody knows how tried I have been during this illness ; but 
 through it all I earnestly desire to submit myself to Him who 
 doeth all things well, and to submit cheerfully, remembering 
 that God loveth a cheerful giver. 
 
 When mamma was in London she went to the doctor, who 
 seemed to think that I might be safely moved from Cromer. 
 
 Uncle Hoare and aunt Martha (Mrs. Carr) brought Chenda, 
 the boys, and me, to London in the steamer. As we began to 
 descend the cliff at Cromer I was terrified. I was hung quite 
 flat, so that I could not see except upwards : I saw numbers of 
 people staring at me. When we got to the boat they lifted my 
 mattress in : I was extremely frightened. It was now full half- 
 past nine, and very dark. Through it all there was an inde- 
 scribable peace granted to me ; I looked up to the sky ami 
 
 * Miss Glover, who lived many years in the family as valued instructess and 
 friend. 
 
1822. get. 14. JOURNEY TO LONDON. 3 
 
 thought that God was looking at and caring for me, and that 
 He would not suffer any evil to come to me. This was a 
 great mercy, and one to be remembered all my life. We had 
 to go two miles before we got to the ship. Then there was the 
 greatest difficulty to get in ; the boat rose and fell so much. I 
 felt the only thing was to be still, and let them do what they 
 would or could with me. As soon as I got on deck, the captain 
 and some other men carried me down instantly into the cabin. 
 During the night we had sad weather, and at one time we went 
 only four miles an hour ; and we were all grievously ill. When 
 I could think of anything, I thought how dreadful must be the 
 sufferings of the poor slaves, crammed and crowded, and not 
 allowed nor able to stand or lie down. How little do we know 
 the immense quantity of suffering which is going forward in 
 the world ! Perhaps it is well for us to taste a little of it now 
 and then. 
 
 We landed at Harwich, and next day reached Devonshire 
 Street, where I was carried up into the drawing room, my bed 
 room being next door ; and I never once went out of those two 
 rooms until I was carried down again to come here (to Hamp- 
 stead). Papa was most affectionate and sweet, and I most 
 thoroughly enjoyed seeing him again. Aunt Fry came, and 
 had a little meeting with us, which was very comfortable : I 
 think Aunt Fry is the person in the world the most comfort- 
 ing to those about her. Mamma said to-day, when she got me 
 my journal, “I hope thee will let me see thy journal ; I think 
 
4 RETURN TO CROMER HALL. 1822. set, 14. 
 
 it will be very interesting.” I do not think I shall, because 
 showing it to anybody would, I think, take off the pleasure 
 and value of my journal ; though, if I showed it to anybody, 
 I am sure I should to that dearest, dearest mamma, whom it 
 has been my habit through life to be so entirely intimate with. 
 What an inexpressible blessing to me to have such parents. 
 How different to mamma herself, whose mother died while she 
 was quite a little child. It is my most, most earnest desire and 
 prayer, every day and every hour, that I may die before them 
 and not have the killing affliction of losing them. I do not 
 think I ever should have another happy hour except in con- 
 tributing to the comfort of the beloved surviving parent. 
 
 Cromer Hall, Wednesday, August 28, 1822, 
 (still confined to the sofa.) 
 
 I have much enjoyed getting once more to dear old Cromer, 
 having been absent three months. Yesterday, while mamma was 
 asleep, papa and I learnt two hundred and thirty lines of poetry ; 
 we took an hour and a half ; I enjoyed it very much. 
 
 I think the three things which I most wish for now are, first, 
 to draw beautifully : — I shall not be content until I have aunt 
 Chenda’s boldness, mamma’s foliage, and dear aunt Priscilla’s 
 exquisite softness and clearness : second, to write beautifully ; 
 
 and the third is only a help to writing well, but is the greatest 
 convenience through life, and that is to mend pens charmingly. 
 I am determined to accomplish this by my fifteenth birthday ; 
 
1822. set. 14. me. wilbeeforce. 
 
 writing, I wish to be done when I shall be sixteen ; and 
 drawing when I shall he seventeen, that is to say if I live so 
 long ; and so by the time that I am eighteen, my education will 
 be finished. French I consider already very nearly, if not quite 
 conquered, except speaking, which, I believe, is not to be attained 
 elegantly but by travelling on the continent. As to Italian, I 
 never shall attempt to speak it, but only to be able to read 
 easily the principal books. Yesterday we began the last volume 
 of Dante ; when we have finished that, we shall read Ariosto’s 
 Orlando Furioso. The chief thing, I think, which I wish to 
 have accomplished when I am eighteen, is a course of history, 
 beginning with Grecian, then Roman, and then English, learning, 
 at the same time, the dates as far as I can, and the geography 
 perfectly. In this course I wish to intermingle a little general 
 European history. 
 
 September 13th. — Mr. and Mrs. Wilberforce are staying here. 
 All the morning they were out. It made me feel very low, I 
 longed so earnestly to be with them. It was such a long time 
 that I was alone. It is quite a loss to lose Mr. Wilberforce’s 
 company at meals. I woke early this morning and read a 
 chapter in bed, the 12 th Hebrews. I felt the soothing and 
 comforting effect of it all day. What a charming chapter it is ! 
 I have learnt great part of it. I really think nothing can exceed 
 Mr. Wilberforce’s kindness and tenderness, he is so extremely 
 affectionate to me— it is quite delightful. He delighted me 
 yesterday by telling me that he had still got that purple silk 
 
6 SERIOUS THOUGHTS. 1822. set. 14. 
 
 bag I made for him above two years ago. Dr. and Mrs. 
 Lushington are also here. What a most expressive countenance 
 Dr. Lushington has. I like to sit and look at him when he is 
 engaged in conversation. 
 
 Sunday, Sept. 29, 1822. — I know it is for the present unavoid- 
 able that I should be thrown on myself and my own resources ; 
 but then look what are those which I call my own resources ! 
 “ Come unto me all ye that are heavy laden and I will give you 
 rest ! ” There is a noble resource ! Those precious words come 
 like a balm to my heart. I have been thinking a great deal, 
 perhaps speculating a little too much, on various religious sub- 
 jects lately, but I cannot attempt to write all down. I have been 
 reading Bickersteth on Prayer. I am perfectly convinced that 
 a religious life can be the only happy one, not merely liking a 
 little religion when it is convenient, but having every thought, 
 every action, every word, every look subservient to it. 
 
 October 6, 1822. — I walked once across my own room, papa 
 and uncle Hoare supporting me — after not having walked a single 
 step for more than seven months. What a long confinement ! but 
 I do not repine ; I hope I feel sincerely thankful for it to Him 
 who doeth all things well. I am sure I may truly say with 
 David, “ It is good for me to be afflicted.” Oh ! it has been 
 inexpressibly so. Sometimes those words in Isaiah — “ 1 have 
 chosen thee in the furnace of affliction” — are applied to my 
 mind with such wonderful power that they seem to have been 
 written for me. I go down to dinner every day. Yesterday, the 
 
1822. set. 14. studies. 7 
 
 first thing after breakfast, I began the great business of my life 
 for many years to come, namely, the education of dearest Chenda. 
 She is too young to learn much, but she is not too young to 
 be disciplined. 
 
 Thursday, Nov. 28. — I perfectly remember on my ninth birth- 
 day dearest mamma’s telling me that the next nine years of my 
 life— from nine to eighteen — would, in all probability, be the most 
 important of my life. Five of these precious years are gone, never 
 to return, and but three remain. Let me consider a little whether 
 these years have been employed as they ought to have been. I 
 really think that on the whole, there has been an improvement that 
 I ought to be pleased with, and thankful for, in intellectual things, 
 more especially since the beginning of 1820. After my ninth 
 birthday, the two next years were spent industriously over Latin, 
 profitably as to the general cultivation of my mind and as to the 
 acquisition of a habit of fixed attention, but very unprofitably as 
 to anything else. Darling Chenda was born on the 5th of 
 January, 1820. The first six months of that melancholy year 
 were extremely unsettled ; and it is surprising to me how much 
 I got on in French and history. We read a good deal of Hume, 
 Col. Hutchinson’s Life, Clarendon’s Life, and some other books. 
 I first entered Cromer Hall on the 25th August, 1820, and on the 
 26th I began Italian. That language I feel almost accomplished, 
 as respects reading. I have read in it some of the Testament, 
 a little of Metastasio’s Operas, all Davila’s Civil Wars of France, 
 a great part of Machiavelli’s History of Florence, all Tasso, and 
 
AUNTS. 
 
 8 
 
 1822-3. 33 1. 14. 
 
 a great deal of it two or three times over, the Inferno and 
 Purgatorio of Dante, and eleven cantos of Ariosto. 
 
 Sunday, December 1, 1822. — Aunt Sarah dined here yester- 
 day, she looked but poorly. What a charming dear sweet person 
 she is to be sure. How sincerely I do love her. I always count 
 on her coming. How glad I am she always comes eveiy Sunday 
 now. She is one of those very very few persons that I like to 
 see on Sundays ; but I do love to see her. 
 
 Sunday, December 8. — Aunt Catherine spoke to me about the 
 boys, and I perfectly agree in what she said, namely, that my 
 manner towards them was not nearly gentle enough. She said that 
 she could speak from her own experience, for when left the head 
 of a large family of brothers and sisters, she had so strikingly 
 found the benefit of always treating them and governing them 
 with the greatest gentleness, and never exerting authority for 
 the love of it, and onty when it was absolutely necessary. She 
 acquired such power over them that she could do what she 
 pleased with them. I perfectly feel the justice of the remark, 
 and of her maxim — “ Let all under you have as much liberty in 
 every way as is consistent Avith their own good,” for — 
 
 ‘ ‘ ’Tis Liberty alone, that gives the flower 
 Of fleeting life its sweetness and perfume.” 
 
 It is my fullest intention to take warning from her advice and 
 to be far more gentle toAvards the children than I have been. 
 
 January 1, 1823. — Oh, Iioav deficient do I feel in the first of 
 graces — giving up my oavu will ! Active virtues are easy ; but a 
 
1823. set. 14-15. HER FATHER. 9 
 
 constant unvarying habit of not consulting one’s own will or incli- 
 nation in little things, and of self-denial, are far rarer and far more 
 valuable, because they cannot be obtained without long habit. 
 
 Tuesday, January 21. — Writing of her father, she says : — With 
 the greatest openness and nobility of mind ; generous to an ex- 
 cess and considerate to the feelings of every one, even children ; 
 vigorous and energetic in whatever he undertakes : all these in- 
 valuable qualities are crowned and cemented together by religion 
 — true, pure, and unadulterated piety. With his energy and 
 vigour everything that he gives his mind to, which is within 
 the reach of humanity, cannot fail to prosper. Then how happy 
 it is that his talents, his courage, his generosity, his energy, 
 are all directed to doing in every way all the good, and giving 
 all the happiness, that he can. 
 
 He went off this morning at three o’clock. His visit has 
 answered most completely and been most cheering to us all. How 
 I shall enjoy it if I become useful to him in his objects ! He 
 told me yesterday that Mr. Cobbett’s second daughter writes 
 almost all his papers for him, and that he should make me Miss 
 Cobbett the second. I have not heard anything that delighted 
 me so much for a long time. To be his companion in any way 
 is the highest object of my ambition. 
 
 Earlham, Monday, March 10. 
 
 Yesterday was a veiy pleasant day. I went to papa and 
 mamma till dinner, professedly reading Scott’s Life, but really 
 
10 BAPTISM. 1823. 8et. 15. 
 
 talking. I like to put down all little tilings that papa tells us. 
 Lord Amherst is appointed Governor of India. Papa went to 
 him to endeavour to interest him about suttees and met with the 
 coldest reception. He said after he had been speaking very 
 warmly and expressing himself strongly on this point, the only 
 answer he could squeeze from his Lordship was a dry bow, and 
 that it reminded him of a passage in Churchill’s Rosciad, where 
 a very stiff actor 
 
 “To soothe his weeping spouse, 
 
 To soothe his weeping mother, turns and bows. ” 
 
 The other day papa went to the Speaker’s Levee with his bag 
 wig all fastened on wrong, and all the company laughed at him. 
 
 Sunday, March 1G. — I feel now more and more the earnest 
 desire to perfect my education. I wish to be nothing less than 
 perfect in all that is to be performed with one’s ten fingers : 
 drawing beautifully, writing an excellent hand, cutting out well, 
 working extremely well, and last, though by no means least, all 
 sorts of handiworks, knitting and netting, &c. 
 
 On Sunday, April 20, 1823, Sam Hoare and I were baptized. 
 I do believe that the effect of it will not quickly pass away from 
 our minds. It is exactly as aunt Martha said to-day, “like 
 turning a corner.” It is entering the gate of the strait and narrow 
 way ; oh ! may we both walk in it to our lives’ end. Monday’s 
 text has dwelt with me all the week — “ Gird up the loins of 
 your mind.” Oh ! may this solemn ordinance brace and strengthen 
 our minds. Mr. Pratt performed the ceremony. 
 
1823. set. 15. slavery debate. 11 
 
 On May 15, we went to hear the slavery debate. It went off 
 with the greatest interest. Mr. Brougham (now Lord Brougham) 
 did make such a speech. I think altogether it was the most 
 entertaining thing I ever heard. His grave dry way of saying 
 the most ludicrous or bitter things is inexpressible and indes- 
 cribable. His squint at the person he is speaking of, is one 
 of the most comical things in the world, except his nose, 
 which exceeds everything human I ever saw. How he did cut 
 up the West Indians. It was delightful to hear him. Papa 
 spoke twice, the second time it was the most spirited reply to 
 all that had been said on the other side of the question. Thus 
 ended this most deeply interesting debate, at about half-past 
 one in the morning. I shall not attempt to say how I enjoyed 
 it, suffice it to say that it was one of the greatest, if not the 
 greatest, treat I ever had, and that I shall look back upon it 
 with feelings of the greatest pleasure, interest, and I will add, 
 pride. 
 
 Monday, Nov. 3. — Yesterday I received the sacrament for the 
 first time. I felt it a most interesting and important occasion — 
 a solemn renewal of the vows and promises made at our baptism. 
 Oh ! may they be a guide to my feet and a light to my path. 
 I think it is a very sweet beginning to our present settlement. 
 
 Sunday, Nov. 9. — I shall go over my improvements again I 
 think. I mean, take another survey of the state of my education. 
 I think I have reason to be encouraged since my last. Italian 
 and French go on gradually perfecting, though but slowly. I 
 
RESOLUTIONS. 
 
 12 
 
 1823. set. 1.5. 
 
 have improved wonderfully in my knowledge of history and 
 chronology since this time last year. Geography still requires 
 more attention. Above all, I believe I have real cause for thank- 
 fulness to God for having been decidedly led and strengthened 
 to choose the better part : absolutely to offer myself, soiil and 
 body, mind and heart, to serve Him and keep His commandments, 
 and walk in His ways all the days of my life. I am firmly 
 convinced that it is the only way for true peace and comfort in 
 this life. Oh ! may I be practically convinced ; may I be assisted 
 to act up to it, and to the suggestions of my conscience, in all 
 my actions, small or great ; may the solemn vows which I have 
 taken upon me in the course of this year, never lose any of their 
 effect on my conduct, but be remembered and renewed from day 
 to day to the latest hour of my life. 
 
 Friday, Jan. 30. — This week I have been very busy, getting- 
 up early, &c., for my father has given me a history of Sierra Leone 
 to write, which is long and difficult. 
 
 Sunday, February 1. — Here I am lying on the sofa, staying 
 from church, and, as I believe, fairly in for another imprisonment. 
 It is a most thorough exercise for me ; I have been lately so much 
 in the full enjoyment of my precious liberty, dancing, walking, Ac., 
 and now it does seem so hard to give it all up again. I endeavour 
 to feel and to say, “ Thy will be done but it is so inexpressibly 
 difficult to do so really effectually. I am perfectly assured that, 
 under these circumstances, I shall never find peace except I desire 
 to feel that it is the Lord ; let Him do what seemeth Him good. I 
 
1824. set. 15. health. 13 
 
 am sure I have experienced good things proceeding from very 
 hitter circumstances. I have had to say — “ Thou hast chosen me 
 in the furnace of affliction” from my very heart, and ■with deep 
 thankfulness. This trial may be designed as a warning to me not 
 to forget in prosperity, that God, who alone has been my comfort 
 in adversity. 0 Lord, I earnestly entreat Thee, that if Thou seest 
 it good this bitter cup may pass from me ; if not, 0 Father, Thy 
 will be done ! I cannot but cherish the delightful hope of its 
 going off in a few days. Oh ! what a blessing ; what a mercy that 
 would be ; but, I fear, I ought to make up my mind to the worst. 
 I feel far more afflicted by the renewal of uneasiness now than 
 I did two years ago, and no wonder, having experienced all 
 the pangs of it ; my beloved parents both appear to be east down 
 by it. Oh ! above everything, may mamma be supported and 
 comforted. 
 
 Sunday, February 7. — My journal of this day week is deeply 
 interesting to me, I feel as if I could not express or even be 
 sufficiently thankful to have had this painful blow averted. On 
 Sunday afternoon I became gradually easier ; and on Monday 
 morning was so well that we all thought it not imprudent for 
 me to go to Earlham. Uncle Dan and his angel wife arrived 
 almost immediately after us. Every time that I see my lovely 
 aunt Harriet, I am astonished at her exquisite beauty ; the loving- 
 sweetness that there is about her is so charming. 
 
 My father sent us to-day four doggerel lines, which are just 
 his mind, certainly : 
 
14* SERIOUS THOUGHTS. 1824. fet. 1 G. 
 
 “ For every evil under the sun 
 There is a cure, or there is none ; 
 
 If there’s a cure, seek and find it ; 
 
 If there’s none, never mind it.” 
 
 I have a great idea they are the genuine production of his own 
 pen, though he says he has met with them. I have been reading 
 my journal of about this time last year — how many things there 
 are to remark in it. In the first place, how inexpressibly thankful 
 we ought to be for having our most beloved mother so mercifully 
 raised from the alarming valley she was then in : I think it is one 
 of the great uses of a journal to bring those times of such deep 
 distress back to one’s mind. I am sure they ought indeed to 
 excite the most lovely gratitude to the Parent of good ; and I trust, 
 in our small measure, they do so. 
 
 Sunday, February 29 — Hampstead. — On Wednesday I en- 
 tered my seventeenth year. I was reflecting, with much trem- 
 bling, on the awful terrors of the approaching judgment-day, 
 when the idea of “ The blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin,” 
 was presented to my mind with uncommon force, and really 
 inexpressible sweetness and comfort. It seemed like a new idea 
 to me ; to be sure, how one may hear, and read, and talk, and 
 feel upon a subject without ever really attaining, as it were, the 
 kernel of it. I certainly do not think I ever felt real warmth of 
 gratitude to God before for the gift of our blessed Saviour, 
 although my lips have so repeatedly said — “ Above all, we bless Thee 
 for thine inestimable love in the redemption of the world by our 
 Lord Jesus Christ.” 
 
SERIOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 1824. let. 16. 
 
 1 5 
 
 Sunday, March 7. — What a splendid sight have I now before 
 my eyes. The afternoon was very rainy — the whole country 
 covered with a thick mist of drizzling rain, and now the golden 
 setting sun breaks through it over Harrow. How infinitely 
 lovely ! I felt hut poorly all yesterday ; am I resigned and ready 
 to die if such be the will of God ? Perhaps these painful threa- 
 tenings of illness which I do so very often suffer from, may be sent 
 to keep uppermost in my mind the uncertainty of the tenure by 
 which we hold our lives. Perhaps I shall soon feel better ; at all 
 events, whatever may be our future circumstances, I earnestly 
 pray that we may cast our care solely upon Him that careth for 
 us, and always remember that the Lord keepeth him in perfect 
 peace whose soul is stayed on Him. 
 
 
 
16 school life. 1824. set. 16. 
 
 SCHOOL LIFE. 
 
 The summer of 1824 saw her begin her life at school. She so earnestly longed 
 to improve her education, that she voluntarily decided to leave home for a time, 
 though her strength and spirits were neither equal to the effort. She remained at 
 school but for one much interrupted year. 
 
 Friday night, April 30. — I have thought seriously how far 
 it would be worth my while to make up my mind to the sacri- 
 fice of going to school for a year, in order to finish off my very 
 deficient education. I am sure it would not be for pleasure, 
 but I think the delight of again coming home would be nearly 
 worth the pain of going there. I do not think I should very 
 much mind the little deprivations of school, but I should like the 
 opportunity of acquiring more hardy and independent habits. 
 
 Bath, May 27. 
 
 We have fixed that I shall go to school at Mrs. Oom’s, Halkin 
 St., London. The whole affair is entirely my own doing and my 
 own decision, and I feel now as if I must sink under the effort, as 
 if I had neither strength of mind nor of body to stand alone in a 
 scene of life so totafiy new to me ; indeed, I can look for no peace 
 or comfort there, except in full and unshaken confidence in my 
 God and Father. On Friday I shall feel sufficiently miserable, I 
 think, but there are such sweet and precious promises for my help 
 
SCHOOL LIFE. 
 
 1824. set. 16. 
 
 17 
 
 and comfort : “ Thus saith the Lord, I, the Lord thy God will hold 
 thy right hand, saying unto thee, fear not, I will help thee.” 
 
 Mrs. Oom’s, Halkin Street, June 13. — Well, here I am, actu- 
 ally settled at school ; I can hardly realize it to myself, it is so 
 amazingly strange to be actually a school girl. About ten we 
 went up to bed, I may say I did with feelings of warm gratitude 
 and thankfulness to that tender and merciful Father who had so 
 far smoothed my way before me. Some part of the day they all 
 read an hour and a half with Mrs. Oom in two classes ; one is 
 reading Gibbon and the other Bigland’s View of the World, and I 
 am incorporated with the Biglandites. I thoroughly enjoy reading 
 with Mrs. Oom ; she is so intellectual and so very kind. 
 
 Halkin St., June 20. 
 
 To her Mother, after a very bad nose bleeding : — “ I will 
 try to be comforted, and indeed to look for rest and protection 
 to that F riend who is indeed never failing. I do also fully believe 
 that it would be a wonderful increase to my comfort and quietness 
 of mind if I could more entirely throw my whole care on Christ. 
 I fear that in the hurry of my letters I have expressed some of 
 these things in a very odd and abrupt way, yet do not believe 
 that I have not applied to Jesus for the comfort I have so much 
 wanted. I have gone up into my little room in the course of the 
 morning, and having locked the door, have most fervently prayed 
 for the helpful and cheering presence, of which I know the power 
 and the efficacy ; but my lowness has been very great.” 
 
SCHOOL LIFE. 
 
 
 18 
 
 1824. eet. 16. 
 
 Sunday, June 27. — I entirely feel that a time spent in un- 
 broken order, regularity, and industry, is extremely good for 
 me. At Hampstead I was so constantly overdone by one excite- 
 ment or another, that I had no spirit for settling regularly to 
 lessons, and mamma was constantly uneasy at my unsettlement 
 and want of regular employment. Here everybody is busy, and 
 therefore I cannot help it, and slip into it, and enjoy it. 
 
 Cromer Hall, Sunday, September 5. — My sweet brother Fowell 
 is now with me, talking and playing. He is the most engaging 
 child possible. I hope I do not love him too much. 0 what 
 inexpressible anguish it would be to me to lose him. He is ex- 
 tremely fond of me, and my chief pleasure and delight. I can- 
 not express how much I love him. He is now just three years 
 old. 
 
 Sunday Evening, Sept. 19, Halkin Street. — Mamma came with 
 me as far as Earlham, and we had some quiet time together. After 
 I was undressed, we had a most interesting little time with dearest 
 papa. I cannot say how very great a privilege it has been to me 
 to be allowed, frequently lately, to join their little meetings of an 
 evening ; and my dearest father’s prayers for me have been most 
 extremely delightful and comforting to me, especially on that 
 Thursday evening his supplications were earnest, and, I do believe, 
 effectual on my behalf. It was certainly deeply interesting, and 
 most highly valuable to me. Nothing could exceed the sweet and 
 affectionate way in which he took leave of me the next morning. 
 I thought of it over and over again in the course of the day with 
 
SCARLET FEVER. 
 
 1821 set. 16. 
 
 19 
 
 tears of affection and gratitude. We went to Norwich in the 
 carriage, and at the inn we found the coach nearly ready to start, 
 so I, not without many tears, took leave of my most beloved 
 and precious mother, and got into the coach. It very soon set off, 
 and I was quickly carried away from dear Norfolk. The hours 
 seemed to pass very slowly, and I must say that altogether it was 
 one of the most fatiguing, low, wearisome, melancholy, tedious, and 
 disappointing days of the sort I ever passed. 
 
 September 26. — The accounts I receive of the dear autumn 
 party are truly tantalizing to me ; however, I have throughout 
 all my clouds, the inexpressible comfort of knowing that I am 
 following the path of duty, and of entirely believing that in fol- 
 lowing it, I shall be assisted and supported by the same Almighty 
 hand which has been so mercifully stretched out for my assist- 
 ance and comfort on many former times. 
 
 Cromer, Panks Lodgings, Oct. 26. — How much I have to say 
 since I wrote my journal last. A month ago, in Halkin Street, 
 I felt a slight headache in the morning ; it grew rapidly worse and 
 worse ; it gave me a great deal of pain to swallow ; I was quite 
 unable to hold up my head. Mrs. Oom, after some little hesitation 
 and consultation with the apothecary, sent me to Hampstead. For 
 days I was very ill. My disorder was decidedly scarlet fever, 
 though of a favourable kind. When I found out that it was so, 
 I was much startled. I had an extreme fear of scarlet fever, 
 and some of the hours I passed in bed, most wakeful, were awful 
 ones to me. I was deeply struck with the nearness of death, and 
 
20 ADVENTURE. 1824. set. 16. 
 
 most powerfully awakened to the sense of my own unlitness 
 for it. 
 
 When recovered, she set off for Cromer with her mother, and 
 thus writes : “ As we were making the best of our way across 
 Newmarket Heath, all of a sudden we stopped, as one of the 
 front wheels refused to go round, being on fire. The postillion 
 ran for a pail of water, which caused an amazing hissing, but 
 did not put it out. We were obliged to get out while they en- 
 deavoured to take the wheel off. As we were pacing up and 
 down the Heath, a sort of jockey looking gentleman came up to us 
 and offered to take us to his house, which we accepted. Mamma 
 took his arm, and off' we set, marching across Newmarket Heath. 
 It was dark, though starlight, and very cold. I should think we 
 walked nearly a mile before we reached the house. I was ex- 
 tremely tired, only having walked with assistance a veiy little 
 way before. We were ushered into a comfortable parlour. They 
 were extremely hospitable to us ; gave us tea, and we sat talk- 
 ing a long time expecting the carriage. After having waited 
 about an hour and a half, word was brought us that they could 
 not get the wheel off, and that therefore the carriage was perfectly 
 immovable ; so these kind people immediately offered us their 
 cari'iage. At length we set off" again, but our misfortunes were 
 not to end here. We were happy to reach the Three Cups, at 
 Newmarket, and had got everything out of the carriage, when we 
 found that owing to the races there were no beds to be had, or at 
 least none that mamma could bear to sleep in ; so, tired as we 
 
CROMER. 
 
 1824. set. 16. 
 
 21 
 
 were, we were obliged to pack up again, and once more try our 
 fortune in a post-chaise. We reached Barton Mills in safety about 
 11 o’clock.” 
 
 Tuesday, November 2. — Before dinner mamma and I had a 
 long conversation about all my employments and plans. All the 
 spirit which I felt at Mrs. Oorn’s seems departed entirely from me ; 
 however I cannot say how much I desire to render home as happy 
 as I can this winter, and I shall put down here the resolutions 
 I have formed : if I f ulfil them, how happy I shall be ! 
 
 First, there are two things which I wish to keep always in 
 mind as the basis of my conduct, good humour and self-denial. 
 I wish, whatever is proposed, if I dislike it, to object quietly, but 
 never to be put out ; to watch over my manners towards my 
 beloved mother with the strictest care, never in the slightest degree 
 to fail in respect towards her wishes, but to labour to assist her in 
 every thing, and to smooth her path. I say nothing about my 
 tender affection for her ; I cannot reproach myself with failing in 
 that, but I wish to shew more fruits of it by denying myself to 
 assist and satisfy her. 
 
 Towards the dear boys, I most fully intend to be very affection- 
 ate ; and not to attempt to govern them, not even scolding them, 
 but giving my mind, whenever I have the opportunity, to please 
 and amuse them. 
 
 The same towards my precious Chenda ; to endeavour to attach 
 her to me by love and gentleness, without attempting to manage 
 her. As to my own employments, I will fix the hours for them, 
 
22 
 
 RETURN TO SCHOOL. 
 
 1824-5. set. 16. 
 
 and then make it an absolute duty to adhere as strictly as pos- 
 sible to them, yet without holding myself in an unreasonable 
 bondage. 
 
 Sunday, November 28. — Mrs. Oom has consented to receive 
 me on the 6th January. Now that that which I have indeed 
 earnestly desired is obtained, I cannot express how much I shrink 
 from the pain of leaving home. 
 
 Halkin Street, Sunday, January 9. — Here I am settled at 
 length in my own place, in this study. The rapid flight of the 
 hours of the last week at home was like losing drops of one’s life 
 blood ; I was foolishly “ careful about many matters.” On the 
 Sunday evening before I left home, we had a very comfortable 
 little time together, (mamma, the boys, and I,) It is delightful, 
 yet excessively tantalizing to me to think that they are probably 
 now sitting round mamma’s fire ; if they are, I am perfectly sure 
 I am not forgotten. What a pleasure it is to feel certain that you 
 are truly loved, and that sincere prayers are probably at this very 
 moment ascending to heaven for your best welfare in every way. 
 I am sure my heart is as full of earnest desires for them, whom I 
 so ardently love. 
 
 Sunday, January 16. — I do miss the retirement and com- 
 forts of family intercourse, and I feel the want of object very 
 much. They are all going on with their weekly employments. 
 How difficult it is to keep up any thing like warmth in such an 
 atmosphere ! It can only be by the guidance and protection of 
 the Lord, “ by the good hand of my God upon me,” as Nehemiah 
 
ADVENTURE. 
 
 1825. set. 17. 
 
 23 
 
 so beautifully says, that I can be preserved. Oh ! may it never 
 leave me nor forsake me. 
 
 Friday, February 11. — A day to be always remembered with 
 true gratitude. We went to the riding school, where they put me 
 upon a nasty black horse, which I had not before ridden. I went 
 on prosperously for some time, till at length in the setting off of a 
 canter, it first started, proceeded a little, tripped, kicked, and fell ; 
 and, accordingly, I found myself flying over his head and under 
 his feet. Mr. Stanley, the riding master, who was providentially 
 by my side, saved me extremely well. He was off his horse in 
 an instant, and got me from under my enraged steed, who was 
 plunging and struggling very much. I was thankful that mamma 
 was not there : what a mercy my deliverance was to me ! I 
 cannot say how strongly I do feel the deliverance from such 
 imminent danger : I was perfectly unhurt ! Poor Mr. Stanley 
 sprained his ankle. I got on again on Favourite, and had my kick- 
 ing lesson afterwards, which I thought was very good of me. 
 
 February 25. — How convinced I am that it is regular business 
 and not extraordinary pleasures which makes one happy. This 
 day I have attained the age of seventeen. How surprising it is, 
 I scarcely can believe it, and how very very rapidly the five years 
 since the birthday of 1820, which was passed at North End, have 
 gone by, though they have been so full of incidental events to me. 
 I hate keeping birthdays and making a rout, but I think they 
 should not be suffered to pass over without some pause and very 
 serious consideration. It has been a painful feeling to me to be 
 
24 DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE. 1825. set. 17. 
 
 away from all my dear family on my birthday ; the first I ever 
 passed away from home. After eighteen, if I live, I do not ex- 
 pect to have much time for education. I am then to show and 
 give to my parents the fruits of my education, and devote myself 
 to Chenda and the poor. I am full of good desires, but to realize 
 them is quite another matter ; but I will work this year, if I am 
 spared, with all my power, at history, French, Italian, drawing, 
 and dancing. 
 
 Tuesday, July 5. — As we were at luncheon, the Duke of 
 Cambridge unexpectedly arrived. Mrs. Oom went to him and 
 fixed with him to come in the evening. His Royal Highness 
 arrived. Mrs. Oom soon came and said that he had inquired for 
 me, and took me in with her. He was extremely polite and 
 gracious, and spoke about my grandmother. He talks and fidgets 
 incessantly. The conversation turning upon history, Mrs. Oom 
 told me to get my period book, which he looked over and admired 
 very much, and my books were all honoured by his royal inspec- 
 tion ! He and Mrs. Oom soon began to play, and I stole from the 
 room. 
 
 Thursday, July 7. — And now, having come to the end of 
 my time with my dearest Mrs. Oom, I must express the lively 
 thankfulness and gratitude which I feel for the tender and sup- 
 porting arm which has constantly been with me throughout the 
 whole. How I have prayed for support ; and it has been granted 
 me ; and more than that, everything lias been so overruled for 
 o-ood, that what 1 so much dreaded and disliked has turned out 
 
1825. get. 17. leaves school. 25 
 
 the most profitable, and, I think, the happiest period of my life. 
 And now, how I do desire that my beloved parents may reap the 
 effects of the sacrifices they made ; that they may he satisfied with 
 me, outwardly and inwardly ; and, in short, that I may settle into 
 the young woman, and fulfil my duties in my home, the better for 
 having been this year absent from it. 
 
 August 23. — On Wednesday night we had a sweet little 
 meeting before we went to bed. Aunt Fry prayed most sweetly 
 for her beloved son John, who was to be married next day. 
 There was a general rousing of the house at six o’clock next morn- 
 ing. We all got up, put on our wedding apparel, except the finish- 
 ing strokes. At meeting, dearest aunt Fry, who sat next to Rachel, 
 the bride, knelt down, and broke forth into one of her finest strains 
 of prayer and praise, and pouring out of her heart for them. It 
 was deeply interesting. Then Wm. Allen got up and preached a 
 sermon, not quite to the point, and rather too long for the occasion. 
 Just at the close of the meeting cousin Elizabeth Fry rose, and 
 preached a short but impressive sermon, especially to all the young 
 people assembled, on “ Choose ye this day whom ye will serve.” 
 
 Cromer, Sunday, Sept. 11. — I am considerably, though gradually, 
 raised out of my low estate since I last wrote ; partly owing, I 
 believe, to the pleasure I have enjoyed in the company of my 
 beloved friends Mary Ann and Catherine Hankinson. They came 
 the day before I last wrote my journal, and we have been con- 
 stantly together since. Their sweetness and affection, and then- 
 cheerful and pious influence has done me good, and I have been a 
 
26 EARLHAM GATHERINGS. 1825. Set. 17. 
 
 great deal with them bathing, reading, walking, and riding to- 
 gether. We are reading “Burnet’s Own Times,” and it answers 
 well. Mr. Tacy has been here one day, which was very pleasant. 
 No one has such a quickening effect upon me as he has. His 
 standard in spiritual tilings is so wonderfully high and elevated 
 above the world. 
 
 Earlham, Saturday, Sept. 24. — The Norwich Bible meeting was 
 interesting, but too long. We returned to dinner, where there 
 were seventy-six people. Uncle Joseph said a few words both 
 before and after, and aunt Chenda sung the grace after. It was a 
 truly interesting party. Mr. Rocafuerte, the Mexican Ambassador, 
 Mi'. Simeon, and a great many clergymen were there : the drawing- 
 room and ante-room both quite full. The next day the Jews meet- 
 ing was tolerably interesting. There were not above thirty people 
 at dinner ; I thought the party pleasanter. We had a most amusing- 
 evening : in the first place they began to sing hymns, which led to 
 Mr. Rocafuerte’s repeating, in a beautiful manner, some Spanish 
 poetry. Then we wanted Mr. Gamboa (his friend) to sing, which 
 he would not do, but we girls besieged him for about half an hour, 
 and at length made him sing. Then he wanted us to sing, but 
 I, fortunately recollecting Cowper’s passage on Liberty, repeated it, 
 with which they were much delighted. 
 
 Monday morning. — The next morning uncle Joseph’s reading 
 was delightful. All the gentlemen went off to the Slavery meeting : 
 it went off capitally. Papa made one of the best speeches he ever 
 made. There were fifty people at dinner. I must say that I looked 
 
1825-6. set. 17. return to London. 27 
 
 f 
 
 I I 
 
 very nicely, and papa said he was quite proud of me ! The 
 dinner and evening were interesting. Dr. Lusliington made a 
 good spirited speech after dinner. The ante-room and drawing- 
 room crowded. The next day, after another charming reading, 
 the party broke up. 
 
 Tuesday, January 31. — I have had one thing which has de- 
 lighted me, that is, papa told mamma that I was the greatest 
 pleasure to him, that I was a delightful companion to him, and 
 really added to the comfort of his life. 0 how can I be thankful 
 enough for this very seasonable help on my way. He yesterday 
 told me himself the same thing, and said that I had not done one 
 thing to vex him since I came home. 
 
 Sunday, Feb. 12th, Devonshire Street. — Here we are once 
 more. On Friday we started at five o’clock and reached Bilney 
 about eleven, and at the lodge I met my dearest friends. 0 
 the joy of that meeting, how great it was ! We walked up to the 
 house and saw Mr. and Mrs. Hankinson, and then sat down in 
 their schoolroom and had a famous gossip. Most thoroughly did 
 we enjoy being together. On Monday the two girls went with me 
 to Runcton. Aunt Harriet really is an angel ; I never saw any 
 thing so radiant in loveliness, grace, and sweetness, as she is. 
 
 In April, 1826, she went abroad with her uncle and aunt 
 Cunningham. They travelled through the south of France and 
 Switzerland, and were absent nearly seven months. The fatigue 
 and excitement of this journey were far beyond her strength ; 
 and, besides the continuous journeyings, a great number of ela- 
 
JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 28 
 
 1826. 
 
 set. 18. 
 
 borate sketches were achieved, and a minute description of the 
 places visited was written in her journal. At Geneva she was 
 attacked by nervous fever, from which she slowly recovered, but 
 she never overcame this shock to her constitution. A few hues 
 from her foreign journal are here added: — • 
 
 Avignon, Sunday, June 1. — Yesterday morning we left Nismes. 
 We breakfasted at a little inn near the Pont du Gard, in a very 
 romantic rocky situation, and with a lovely garden. I here saw 
 the “Filature a soie,” a very curious sight. Two girls were em- 
 ployed in it. They had a copper full of boiling water with a fire 
 underneath, the cocoons were put into this, and the silk wound 
 off them by turning a wheel. Two threads were made at a time, 
 six cocoons going to each thread, and these threads were almost as 
 fine as I could have imagined any thing to be. One girl turned 
 the wheel ; the other stirred them about in the water, cooling her 
 hand from time to time in a pan of cold water. They never 
 appeared to break, but when one was done, she joined another on 
 with admirable facility, and threw the dead chrysalis out, which 
 the chickens eat. Her way of finding the ends was very curious : 
 she took a little broom of twigs and whisked it about in the water 
 among the cocoons, and when pulled out, all the ends were hanging 
 to it. 
 
 Geneva, Saturday morning, August 26. — At length I sit down 
 to write my journal in a state of considerable agitation and 
 excitement, caused by our arrival at this place ; by great bodily^ 
 fatigue ; by the reception of deeply interesting letters ; by being 
 
1826. set. 18. return home. 29 
 
 suddenly brought into the middle of the circle here of persons of 
 whom I have heard much, whom I want to know, and among 
 whom I feel strange. 
 
 Lausanne, Maison Rockal, Sept. 30.— It is now a month since I 
 have been able to write my journal, and what a month it has been. 
 I trust in some respects a deeply profitable one to me. I went to 
 bed that night with much headache, and passed a night of high 
 fever and great conflict, such as I did when I sickened of the 
 scarlet fever, and had the same feelings of desolate wretchedness in 
 being absent from my beloved mother. Well, it was soon declared 
 to be a bilious nervous fever, and for a fortnight I was very ill, 
 and had deep suffering to go through, though the fever took a 
 favourable turn. 
 
 In November the party returned to England. 
 
 Cromer Hall, November 28. — No words can describe how in- 
 teresting every well-known bush and stone were to me as we ap- 
 proached Cromer, and at length when we drove up the court, I 
 was out in an instant, and made but one bound over the hall and 
 up the stairs, till I found myself in the arms of my adored mother, 
 crying for joy, and O, I trust, also for thankfulness. Oh ! how can 
 we ever be thankful enough for the tender mercy of our God which 
 has conducted us every step of our way, and has at length vouch- 
 safed to unite us in peace, health, and safety, under this dear roof. 
 All looks well and happy : everything seems flourishing. Chenda 
 lias advanced wonderfully, and chatters French with great ease. 
 Fowell is most lovely in a new dress, which, for the present, 
 
SO e. n. btjxton’s baptism. 1826-7. set. 18. 
 
 greatly engrosses his heart. He was in raptures at my pretending 
 not to know him. 
 
 On the baptism of her brother Edward, she thus writes : — 
 
 Jan. 29. — Mr. Tacy arrived, and our family reading was charm- 
 ing — on fervency of spirit. 0 how I need it. I am so dead, so 
 cold, so soon discomfited, have so little of the glow of the love 
 of God in my heart. This morning after breakfast, he took dear 
 Edward alone ; and then we had a most interesting reading 
 all together of part of the 6th of 1st Timothy, on which he com- 
 mented most beautifully, especially on that verse — “ Therefore, 0 
 man of God, flee these things, and follow after righteousness,” that 
 is, perfect integrity ; godliness, that is more particularly the 
 cultivation of the affections ; faith, love, meekness. After this, 
 we set off for church, and an interesting party assembled round 
 the font. The service was indeed beautiful and applicable, and 
 Mr. Tacy performed it with great solemnity and deep feeling. 
 Dearest Edward looked most interesting, sweet, serious, and 
 deeply impressed. He made the responses well, with much 
 solemnity of voice and manner. There was a peculiar savour 
 over the thing, and one could not but feel that the presence 
 and blessing of God were with us. O that it may indeed be 
 with him, dear fellow. How I do desire that he may be a 
 good soldier and servant of the Lord Jesus Christ till his life’s 
 end ; that he may be kept from the snares and pollutions of this 
 world ; and, finally, brought to an inheritance incorruptible and 
 undefiled that fadeth not away. 
 
1827. set. 19. 
 
 HER FATHER’S ILLNESS. 
 
 31 
 
 Cromer Hall, July 3. — She writes of her father’s alarming 
 illness at Ham House : — On Sunday morning mamma went to 
 meeting, and I stayed with him. He lay on the sofa, as I 
 thought, asleep, in a torpid state. I read a little to him, hut 
 not being able to get an answer from him, I sat perfectly quiet. 
 By the time mamma came home I was frightened indeed. They 
 sent for leeches. We got him upstairs, he every moment be- 
 coming more torpid. The awful truth by degrees opened upon 
 us that he was lying in a state of unnatural insensibility. Oh ! 
 never can I describe what it was ; the horrors of the valley 
 we appeared to be entering burst upon us, and despair was on 
 every side. But the scene cannot be described ; may it never be 
 forgotten. I can scarcely bear even now to think of my dearest 
 dearest mother’s sufferings. It was pronounced pressure on the 
 brain, and very alarming. Then dear uncle and aunt Hoare 
 arrived. Aunt Fry and uncle Sam were almost the principal 
 nurses. The night was a most awful one, every hour seemed to 
 increase the dreadful suspense. He was totally insensible. We 
 assembled round his bed, and aunt Fry, who was through all like 
 a ministering angel, burst forth into a song of praise, commending 
 him to God, and beseeching His care for us all. Dear aunt Hoare 
 also prayed. A degree of hope shone upon us, though there were 
 many bitter moments. On the following Thursday he was pro- 
 nounced out of danger ! Aunt Gurney was through it all a most 
 inimitable mistress, taking care of everybody so tenderly, never 
 in a bustle, up to everything. I cannot describe the extreme kind- 
 
I 32 HER FATHER. 1827-8. get. 19. 
 
 ness we received from everybody : the inquiries and sympathy 
 expressed by friends and strangers. In the House of Commons 
 it produced quite a sensation. 
 
 October 20. — I have begun to learn Greek with Miss Glover. 
 If I am ever able to read the Testament I shall be delighted : 
 and my ambition goes no further. Last night I wrote a long 
 letter to Catherine Hankinson. Certainly the entire, complete 
 sympathy between her and me is very remarkable. We seem 
 to understand one another as if we had but one soul. This 
 may sound romantic and girlish, but it is really true ; and, con- 
 sequently, my connection with her is altogether of a different 
 character to that with any one else in the world. 
 
 November 22. — On Sunday, my dear father, so incomparably 
 sweet ! at night told me that for the last few months I had been 
 an inconceivable pleasure to him ; in short, I may say we do 
 enjoy each other’s company thoroughly. 
 
 November 25. — We have been to church this morning, since 
 which I have had a most delightful walk with my dearest, dearest 
 father. He was in such a mind ! We talked most delightfully 
 about all manner of people, of things, slavery, Mauritius, &c. 
 His mind was beaming ; his affection for me inexpressibly de- 
 lightful ; in short, it made me feel most happy. 
 
 Just before finally leaving Cromer Hall and settling at North- 
 repps, she thus writes : — 
 
 Cromer Hall, Jan. 23. — It is a curious, and, to me, a melan- 
 choly scene. I cannot help reviewing the time we have spent 
 
1828. ?et. 19. northrepps. 83 
 
 here ; it seems but yesterday since we came here, seven years 
 and a half ago. How — 
 
 “In a few short moments I retrace 
 (As in a map the voyager his course) 
 
 The windings of my way through many years. ” 
 
 How interesting, yet how melancholy, it is to look back ! They 
 have been indeed, very important years to me. 
 
 Northrepps Hall, Feb. T — -Here we are! This day we have 
 entered our new abode ; begun this new stage and section of our 
 lives. 
 
 God only knows what is most for my good and happiness, and 
 to Him I do altogether, and very solemnly, commit the whole of 
 my future destiny. He has promised that mercy shall compass 
 me about ; and oh ! is not this sufficient ? God grant me a more 
 hopeful, quiet, believing heai’t ! Dearest mamma looked tired, 
 and, I thought, low, when we went up to bed. After some 
 conversation, we knelt down together, and I was much relieved 
 by pouring out my full heart for her. I sometimes think that 
 I have no feeling, except on this one point ; but here I have 
 the most acute feeling, the most intense love that I can conceive, 
 and that without any mixture of selfishness, although she is of 
 the most incalculable, unspeakable importance to me every day 
 and hour ; if she is away every thing loses all its charm to me ; 
 all I do is prompted and stimulated by her ; I apply to her in 
 every case ; in short, no one person can be more dependent on 
 another than I am on her. 
 
34 London. 1828. set. 20. 
 
 London, March 2. — On Thursday, 28th February, the dearest 
 Hankinsons came. I was alone at home, and delighted to greet 
 them We have settled very diligently this week, and most truly 
 have I felt the happy influence of it, though I have been at times 
 very poorly indeed. We have masters every day and plenty to do 
 besides. On Friday I felt so low about both my dearest parents. 
 That night they called me into their room ; my dearest father 
 prayed most beautifully, for direction, in his own case especially. 
 There is a richness and an originality in his mind which are 
 most charming. My heart felt so full as if it would burst, and, 
 to my own great surprise, I poured it forth with floods of tears. 
 It was a great relief. 
 
 Tuesday, April 8. — Charley was at meeting on Sunday morn- 
 ing, and did not like it at all. He was afterwards heard telling 
 the cat all about it : “Puss, do you know they’re such naughty 
 people here ; they never go to church, and they didn’t take off 
 my hat, and they sat and sat such a long time, and at last an 
 old woman stood up, with no ribbons on her bonnet, and said 
 something — I don’t know what — and afterwards we went on 
 sitting a long time, and I was so tired ; and don’t you ever go 
 to meeting, Puss ! ” 
 
 Sunday, May 25. — On Friday I went with Chenda to Mr. 
 Ross, where he took a sketch of us together. I shall enjoy being 
 in a picture with her, dear child, how I do love her. She is a 
 great pleasure and treasure to me. 
 
 Again settled at Northrepps, she thus writes : — 
 
1828. set. 20. story of a shipwreck. 35 
 
 Friday, August 22. — My father and I had a most charming- 
 ride. I do wish I could put down what he told me about the 
 shipwreck in 1823 : I must try and give his own words. “We 
 were shooting at Sheringham when the storm became so violent 
 we came home, and the ship (the Duchess of Cumberland) was 
 then driving on shore. I ran to the Preventive House ; as I was 
 going I saw the tiles blowing off the houses. We got the Cromer 
 gun, and with very great labour dragged it along the shingles, 
 endeavouring to keep up with the ship, which was striving to 
 keep off the shore. We saw it was impossible, the wind and 
 the waves were too strong ; and nearly under the lighthouse 
 she struck. The lifeboat came up, but became quite unmanagable 
 among the breakers, and, in spite of all we could say, the men, 
 except four, jumped out one after another. I said to Johnson, 
 ‘ If we got in would they follow ? ’ He said, ‘ Perhaps they 
 might,’ and he and I jumped into the boat. He got out again 
 to try and persuade them to come in, and at that moment a 
 wave took us out to sea. One of the men exclaimed, ‘we shall 
 all be drowned.’ I thought we were in the greatest danger, 
 but considered our only chance was to remain firm in the boat, 
 so I put my hands under the seat and held tight ; happily, the 
 raging breakers threw us again on the shore. We left the life- 
 boat, finding it altogether useless, and proceeded to try other 
 means. We perceived that the ship had thrown out a piece of 
 wood with a line to it ; I saw it on the top of a wave ; and at 
 that moment resolved within myself, ‘ That wood I’ll have, or be 
 
SHIPWRECK. 
 
 36 
 
 1828. set. 20. 
 
 drowned.’ I made a plunge at it, and, after a violent struggle 
 with the breakers, I obtained the piece of wood ; hut then the 
 string was gone. If they had fastened it securely we should 
 then have established a communication, and they would probably 
 have been saved. The waves increased in fuiy, and the tide con- 
 tinued rising, till we were obliged to retreat to a ledge half-way 
 down the cliff, and against this the sea beat with such violence 
 that we thought it must give way ; Davison came and said so 
 to me. I said, ‘Well, we cannot help it, we must stay to see 
 the end.’ We continued firing, but could not get the rope over 
 the ship. The men were very much afraid of shooting, but I 
 said I would take the responsibility. All was ineffectual. We 
 stood looking at the devoted vessel till, by the sudden black- 
 ness which overspread the sea, we knew that it had given way. 
 I never shall forget the tone of voice in which one of the men 
 exclaimed, ‘Poor, dear hearts! there they go! poor, dear hearts!’ 
 Some one said, ‘ Let us all make a rush and save some.’ We all 
 ran in ; I was somewhat the foremost. The waves brought a 
 quantity of planks and boards, which dashed against our legs ; 
 and, after being two or three times knocked down, we saw a 
 man coming in on the top of a wave ; I made a spring at him 
 and caught him, but the wave threw me down like a child, and 
 flung me over the man’s body ; the people behind dragged us 
 up immediately. The man was insensible, and I was more dead 
 than alive ; I could not walk a step, but was dragged up the 
 cliff half drowned. I was unable to do any more ; but another 
 
1828-9. ?et. 20. mr. wilberforce. 37 
 
 man appeared and was saved in the same manner ; the rest of 
 the crew went to the bottom ! ” 
 
 September 2d. — Overstrand church was rather pleasant ; Mr. 
 Wilberforce’s behaviour quite edifying. Nice dinner and even- 
 ing, Mr. Wilberforce most beaming in mind ; I have never seen 
 him brighter. He is altogether a glorious sight. The honour 
 that encircles his hoary head, the brilliancy of his genius, and 
 the light of mind, contrasted with decrepitude of body. We 
 read some of Forster on Decision, which induced no small con- 
 versation. I shall not easily forget the manner, the glowing, 
 lively way in which he exclaimed, just as we were breaking up, 
 “How joyful and how pleasant a thing it is, brethren, aye, and 
 sisters too, to dwell together in unity!” 
 
 Sunday, October 25. — After church I was very faint ; I know 
 not that I ever felt worse. However, I would not have had it 
 otherwise, for darling Catherine Hankinson came home with me. 
 I lay on the bed ; we read and talked and had a sweet after- 
 noon and evening together. We read Chalmers’ sermon on “ The 
 Natural Man is enmity against God.” Her company is delicious 
 to my whole soul. She and I have the most perfect union of mind. 
 We see things and persons in the same light exactly ; we under- 
 stand one another fully with a word or a look, or almost without 
 either. She never disappoints me. I feel an ever fresh delight 
 in her. What a precious friend ! what a gift from Heaven ! 
 
 In the beginning of the following year they returned to 
 London, and after an interval she thus writes — 
 
38 hospital visits. 1829. set. 21. 
 
 May 9. — Read the Review of “Peter Bassiere’s Letters.”* I 
 believe I’ve not mentioned the birth of our child, Peter Bassiere 
 by name. He saw the light, I think, about a month ago, and has 
 had a prosperous life hitherto. We printed a thousand copies, 
 which are nearly sold. It has met with great approbation, and 
 been well reviewed in the Christian Observer, &c. I am thoroughly 
 pleased with its success. This has been quite an interest. 
 
 Monday, May 18. — To the hospital. Read very seriously 
 in St. John’s Gospel to a poor young woman, who has become 
 wonderfully softened. Several gathered round and I was earned 
 on to address them strongly. I then went to 1113- poor Irish 
 woman, one of my former party following me. She said she had 
 thought continually of what I had said, and that she would have 
 to thank me for ever for it. I felt great doubts about her 
 understanding, and, feeling most deeply m3’ inability to teach 
 her, chiefly insisted on praying for the Holy Spirit and the 
 teaching of God. 
 
 On Thursday I went again to the hospital ; had a very nice 
 reading in the cancer ward, which is indeed an affecting sight, 
 and, as it were, the end of the earth. The stillness, cleanliness 
 of it, and the condemned state, as to this world, of its few 
 melancholy inhabitants, are most striking ; few, if any, of them 
 will ever leave their desolate habitation ; some have been there 
 for years and have seen many come, and some depart 011I3’ in 
 their coffins. Oh ! may they be enabled to find a strong rock, 
 
 * A book she translated from the French. 
 
REFLECTIONS. 
 
 1829. iet. 21. 
 
 39 
 
 a refuge when every human help and comfort have failed, and 
 may they indeed come to know “ that weight of glory which 
 shall prove this to have been but a light affliction, and but for 
 a moment.” It is a great effort, but one that always pays, to 
 go to them. Yesterday heard that they have published three 
 thousand of Bassiere in Dublin, flattered and yet very much 
 affronted, seeing that they ought to have asked leave ; however, 
 if it does but do good, it does not much signify. 
 
 Again at North repps her journal continues — 
 
 Monday, July 27. — I cannot say how earnestly I long to be 
 really industrious, not only to have my time filled and my mind 
 amused, but to have these done to some good purpose, some real 
 exercise of mind, something that should feed the intellectual 
 powers and strengthen them. I am quite distressed at the passive 
 manner in which I read and study. I can read an hundred pages 
 with great ease and tolerable attention ; but alas, alas, I cannot 
 conceal from myself that they pass away from my mind very 
 much indigested and not turned to profit. I have thought that 
 perhaps writing on some subject would bring my mind forwarder 
 than continuing to pour in heaps of crude information. I post 
 up into my own room, shut my door, open my desk, collect my 
 books around me ; but when all nicely settled, I sit and muse, 
 turn over the pages of my common-place book, read and re-read, 
 and rise up none the better. I think I must lower my standard, 
 give up my abstract readings of Locke and F erguson, and betake 
 myself to some more technical study, something that would be 
 
HER BROTHER HARRY. 1829. set. 21. 
 
 more within the compass of my powers. If the morning produced 
 only a grain, so long as that grain were satisfying to my mind, 
 I think I should receive it thankfully. 
 
 About this time anxiety was first excited for the health of 
 her brother John Henry, all means were used, both at home 
 and in London (where the following spring was spent as usual) ; 
 but proved of no avail. A little tour in the south was tried 
 before the family returned to Nortlirepps in Sept., 1830, but he 
 gradually sank till he died on the 18th of November, in the 
 seventeenth year of his age. 
 
 August 4. — The journal is thus continued : — 
 
 We are really anxious about Harry : he coughs, complains 
 of pains in his chest, and has rather a high pulse. The tendency 
 is very trying ; but I cannot believe the attack of much conse- 
 sequence. We have, however, been thoroughly tried by it. 
 
 Yesterday was his baptism. Soon after breakfast we went to 
 Overstrand. The ceremony was peculiarly satisfactory and de- 
 lightful. I do believe the covenant then made was owned of 
 God, and that the Spirit of Adoption was in some measure 
 amongst us. Owing to his delicate state, we dared not make 
 much of it, but I think he felt it deeply ; and I doubt not the 
 many prayers offered for him, were heard and accepted. 
 
 August 23 — Friday morning dearest Edward went away :* a 
 thorough pang it was parting with him ; yet, I think, we have 
 real cause for thankfulness in the retrospect of these holidays. 
 
 * He was at that time reading with the Rev. Henry Elliot at Brighton. 
 
1829-30. get. 21. 
 
 ILLNESS. 
 
 I am sure I have, for these dear boys’ sweetness and affection to 
 me ; and, I trust, in some small degree for the fulfilment of my 
 earnest desires of being a pleasure to them. Yet now he is gone, 
 I recall many things to reproach myself for. How much solici- 
 tude and tender love and anxiety is bestowed on this dear boy ! 
 I desire that all this may spend itself in prayer for him, and 
 then, I believe, he will be blessed and a blessing. 
 
 Feb. 24. — I have been to the brink of the grave since I last 
 wrote. In November, bad quinsy was followed by distressing and 
 almost incredible weakness. I was exhausted next to death. It was 
 a solemn season indeed. I have now been steadily regaining strength 
 for three months, and am nearly restored to my usual health. 
 
 Surely the valley of humiliation is my abode internally ; not 
 peaceful, happy humbleness of soul before God ; but painful, bitter 
 mortification, vexation, and sorrow for my sin. I have the very, 
 very lowest opinion of myself, that is, as to my inward heart, 
 for externally I have a high opinion of myself. I know that I 
 have many advantages and that I have considerable powers. I 
 know that I am thought highly of by others, and I agree with 
 them according to their means of judging ; but I, alas ! see 
 deeper ; I see motives ; I know of broken resolutions, victorious 
 temptations, and the power of sin, that are unseen by others. 
 
 In a letter to her brother Edward, she says : — 
 
 “London, June 2 . 
 
 “ Let us not despise the time because it is short. Life is so made 
 up of small periods that the only way to make real use of our time is, 
 
42 
 
 LETTER TO E. N. B. 
 
 1830. set. 22. 
 
 to feel tliat, while the present moment is ours, it is worth improving ; 
 and, if the time before us is ever so long, it is never more than the 
 present moment to us. Our life now is very unsettled. I go on day 
 after day doing nothing but writing letters and notes, and transacting 
 little bits of business, reading, working, and drawing by morsels. How- 
 ever, we must submit to our circumstances, and only endeavour to keep 
 steady in our inmost mind — fixed on a rock without wavering. Then, 
 whatever they be, we shall have the same principles to guide us through 
 them — the same consolations if they are adverse — the same ballast if they 
 are prosperous — the same hopes, above all, to fix our eye upon, and to 
 lift us a certain degree above them, be they what they may,” 
 
 Northrepps, September 1. — I could not but feel our return 
 to be deeply and truly melancholy, bringing home our beloved 
 charge, Harry, after the thorough trial and failure of all the 
 resources we had to look to when we left home. It is indeed 
 most disheartening. He remains as ever profoundly placid and 
 patient. Nothing can be sweeter than he is, and showing forth 
 every day and hour those fruits of the Spirit, wdiich are the best 
 evidences. Truly also do we see the peculiar, merciful, and tender 
 care which is unceasingly over him, preserving him, in a remark- 
 able manner, from all pain of mind and body, and, as it were, 
 smoothing everything before him. Mamma fills the first place : 
 his dependence on her is complete, and she is all to his mind 
 and body that human help can be. I earnestly desire to fill the 
 second, often just sitting with nothing to do, sometimes reading 
 and knitting ; and I do indeed feel it a comfort and blessing to 
 be permitted to watch over him. 
 
 Extract from a letter, Nov. 5 : — 
 
NORTHREPPS INTERESTS. 
 
 1 830. set. 22. 
 
 43 
 
 “ I have been very busy indeed this week with my new clothing 
 charity at Little Northrepps. We had thirty-seven women assembled on 
 Saturday in the servants’ hall. I received their money, accomplished 
 our business, and then made them a speech, a very striking one it was, 
 I must say, and brought many of my audience to tears. Our assembly 
 ended by their each having a famous plum loaf to take home. I sold them 
 six prayer-books, and got twenty subscribers for bibles. Besides this, we 
 are in the act of establishing an infant school. This has long been an 
 object of my desires, and aunt Chenda, at last, with her magical touch, 
 has accomplished it for me. We have chosen a poor woman, who can 
 read and sing, and who has a good large light kitchen, for the mistress. 
 I am sitting in the ante-room, dearest H. asleep, mamma knitting by him, 
 papa asleep in the great chair, Christiana reading to them.” 
 
 November 12. — Our clearest Harry is in a most sinking state. 
 I think the step clown for the last few days has been very 
 decided. His cough has been severe, and the consequent ex- 
 haustion truly alarming. He does not any longer come down 
 stairs, or walk at all; but, oh! truly may we say, “As the out- 
 ward man decays the inward man is renewed day bj^ clay.” His 
 state is indeed most lovely and sweet. On Wednesday we all 
 received the sacrament together. It was indeed an affecting, 
 though most beautiful sight to see him ; truly did he appear to 
 feed upon the sacrifice of his Saviour, and practically to rest 
 upon him for all his comfort. Oh ! may our beloved one and 
 all of us feel and know the everlasting arms to be underneath us. 
 Make Thyself more and more manifest to us. Oh ! strengthen 
 and clear the eye of faith, that we may look not on the things 
 that are seen, and which are so heartrending, but on the glorious, 
 
HER BROTHERS DEATH. 
 
 44 
 
 1830. get. 22. 
 
 happy, bright, cheering view of the things that are unseen and 
 are eternal. Grant that we may leave in heart all these things, 
 and only press forward to the prize of our high calling in Christ 
 Jesus. In this there is consolation. Pity us, Lord, in our deep 
 weakness and sorrow ; thou seest our hearts bleed under this 
 heavy trial and separation. 
 
 Friday, Nov. 19. — How can I but write! Our precious be- 
 loved one is gone ; his dear spirit most gently departed yester- 
 day afternoon. Oh ! how can I give an account of the days. It 
 has indeed been passing through the valley of the shadow of 
 death ; but oh ! I may also add, “ The Lord has been with us : 
 His rod and His staff they have comforted us.” I could not fix 
 the moment of his departure, but was told of it by an expression 
 of sleep falling over his countenance. We knelt down after my 
 father, who was supporting his head, had closed his eyes ; and 
 he returned thanks for having had such a child, and for having 
 seen him brought safely into the haven of everlasting rest ; the 
 work perfected and finished, he, preserved from the sorrows and 
 dangers of the world while he lived in it, and quickly and merci- 
 fully taken to his Father’s bosom. My beloved mother added 
 a few words in a strain never to be forgotten — “ May we indeed 
 be enabled from our hearts to say, Thy will be done, and not 
 only now, but through all our lives. When we want him, when 
 we miss his precious company, may we ever be enabled to say, 
 It is well ; and to look back on this day, ever acknowledging 
 that it was right.” 
 
FUNERAL. 
 
 1830-31. set. 22. 
 
 45 
 
 Thursday, Nov. 24. — The funeral was to me personally a 
 day of almost indescribable affliction. I did not the least ex- 
 pect it to he what it was. I looked to a deadness of all feeling, 
 hut mine was the acutest and bitterest grief. Never was the loss 
 before me in such colours. I cannot say what it was to leave 
 our beloved brother there ; and as I walked with Edward and 
 Chenda, the dear child with us because she had no brother to 
 walk with, I could not but as it were writhe under the idea 
 that I was the eldest and Chenda the youngest of nine, and 
 that there was but our Edward between us ! 
 
 Sunday, Jan. 31. — So here ends our Northrepps stay. What 
 shall I, what can I say? My heart would choose this motto 
 — “ Thou which hast shewed us great and sore trouble, shalt 
 bring us up again from the depths of the earth, and comfort us 
 on every side.” It has certainly been a memorable time ; it is 
 written on my heart : deep and bitter sorrow is its prominent 
 characteristic ; but there have been at times heavenly consola- 
 tions, as well as the apprehension of solemn lessons. May the 
 evil be purged away and the good ever remaining. There have 
 been moreover many great and precious alleviations : of these I 
 wish I had preserved more record, especially our invaluable tie 
 with the cottage. Few people in the world understand me 
 like aunt Sarah. Anna is as ever a most unique and noble 
 creature. I am increasingly at ease with her, and love as much 
 as I admire her, which is saying a great deal. My dearest 
 father has been a lively pleasure to me this winter. I love most 
 
46 AGAIN IN LONDON. 1831. set. 22-3. 
 
 dearly to be any help or pleasure to him ; this I have been in 
 measure allowed to be : my intellect is feasted by his conversa- 
 tions and writings, my understanding exercised, and myself 
 strongly stimulated. My sweet Chenda is a very bird : lively, 
 lovely, and most affectionate. 
 
 The beginning of February found her again in London, entering 
 into all her father’s interests, who was called to great exertions 
 in the Anti-Slavery cause. She writes : — 
 
 Devonshire St., February 17. 
 
 To C. E. Hankinson. — “ Did I tell you of our large Anti-Slavery party 
 on Wednesday ? It was a fine assemblage of excellent and interesting 
 people — twenty gentlemen, lords, M.P.’s, &c. Mamma did not appear. 
 My father chose I should ; and aunt Fry was to come to be with me. 
 Just as we were assembling we heard she could not come. My father 
 and uncles would have me, so down I went and sheltered myself in a 
 corner of the sofa, and got through with considerable eclat. My father 
 introduced everyone to me. It was most interesting. Their conversation 
 and debate were well worth hearing. Uncle Hoare sat at the top. I begged 
 Lord Nugent, with whom I went down, to let me sit near the door, that 
 I might make my escape ; but I stayed a long time after dinner, it was 
 so interesting. I am glad I was there. My father’s mind is turning more 
 and more to immediate emancipation. Slavery, slavery, is more than ever 
 our topic. We have numbers of people to breakfast on it, and our evenings 
 are prone to be very full.” 
 
 March 26. 
 
 To her brother Edward. — “The Anti-Slavery meeting went off nobly. 
 There were between three and four thousand people present. Exeter Hall 
 is a noble building. My father spoke first, and delightfully I must say. 
 He was amazingly cheered, and was in the highest popularity all the 
 meeting. He lectured the people upon the elections, and said, among 
 
REFORM BILL. 
 
 1331. let. 23. 
 
 •47 
 
 other things — ‘If a candidate tells you he is a friend to amelioration, with 
 a view to extinction, vote against him.’ We roared with pleasure at that. 
 ‘Vote against him, I say.' We cheered immensely. When some one drew 
 a parallel between the Jews in Egypt and the Negroes in Jamaica, my 
 father got up, and quietly said — ‘ I beg to correct the rev. gentleman ; he 
 has omitted one very material point, and that on a subject of which I 
 hear plenty in the House of Commons, viz., compensation. In the case 
 of the Jews there was compensation, for we hear of the slaves going out 
 with jewels of silver and jewels of gold.’ We were delighted, and made a 
 fine noise. The tone of the meeting was to install my father as leader 
 of the cause.” 
 
 April 23. — At five o’clock this morning my father returned 
 in high glee. Reform carried by one ! a most anxious, close 
 run ; a critical division ; ended by a roar of triumph. “ We 
 screeched finely,” he says, “ some waved their hats, others threw 
 them into the air ; the Speaker scolded, but they heeded not ; 
 and had at least the pleasure of making a noble noise at their 
 own suicide.” 
 
 Sunday, August 7. — London still. Our little party, now re- 
 duced to my beloved parents and myself, having separated for 
 an hour or two this morning, I am determined to seize the 
 opportunity, and, as Herbert says, “ tumble up and down ” a 
 little the contents of my mind. How precious is the Sabbath ! 
 Oh ! this invaluable pause ! it is the only thing, I sometimes feel, 
 that keeps me as it were alive, or in a degree of safety. The 
 weeks are one incessant stream of business and care. Happy, 
 happy for us that we are obliged to stop the wheel one day in 
 seven, and look a little what course we are steering. Mr. Simeon 
 
48 HOME OBJECTS. 1831. set, 23. 
 
 spent a week with us, we were almost too busy ; but I felt it 
 a great pleasure having him. He is certainly a wonderful 
 veteran soldier, richly clad in the whole armour of God. We 
 paid a very sweet visit to Ham House, They are such a 
 charming party, and everything about them is so bright and 
 beautiful, that it is to me a refreshing sight to see them, and I 
 felt all the better for it. 
 
 Northrepps, Sept. 17. 
 
 To C. E. Ho are.* — “I have indeed been very, very busy, and I must 
 add, very happy. My return to this most endeared place has been so 
 very pleasant, so sweet, so cheerful, and so complete and happy, that I 
 thoroughly enjoy it; and I rove from flower to flower and from tree to 
 tree with positive delight. My objects, too, have been far more tempting 
 than I could have hoped for. Mamma and I read the Bible and Milner 
 together in the morning. I have been after my school sundry times, and 
 find it going on essentially well, though ‘ in the rough ’ — a good attendance, 
 popularity, aud some degree of spirit. It is a fine field to work in, if I 
 can but keep up my energy and learn the trick of talking to babies. The 
 poor have received me most cordially. The women are all to come here 
 to eat a dinner and hear a speech from me next Thursday on the subjects 
 of a clothing-charity, the school, punctuality, cleanliness, bible subscrip- 
 tions, and vaccination ! To-day, though the sky was grey and the air raw, 
 I sallied forth, after luncheon, for a solitary trudge into Northrepps, and 
 took a sketch, besides paying many visits. This effort, as usual, turned 
 out wholesome and invigorating to the mind and spirits, and I hope I 
 may learn to take the dose constantly and cheerfully.” 
 
 October 23. — On Sunday we all went over the hills to Over- 
 strand : it was to me a very affecting occasion ; and I regretted 
 
 * C. E. Hankinson married, Sept., 1831, to Samuel Hoare, Esq. 
 
1831. set. 23. 
 
 REFLECTIONS. 
 
 49 
 
 having exposed myself to it. The party of the living, healthful, 
 once happy companions of him who sleeps under the sod there, was 
 too striking a contrast, and I could only wonder, as I often do, 
 how we remained alive to tell the tale of his early end. The 
 monument put up there to the memory of six brothers and 
 sisters, all younger than myself, does indeed speak to my heart 
 in most melancholy tones. 
 
 November 10. 
 
 To C. E. Hoare. — “ How wonderful are the daily workings of Providence ! 
 Well may we say, that — 
 
 ‘ God unfolds by slow degrees 
 The purport of His deep decrees ; 
 
 Sheds every hour a clearer light 
 In aid of our defective sight, 
 
 And spreads at length before the soul 
 A beautiful and perfect whole. ’ 
 
 Let us all strive to learn the lesson, that experience worketh hope. Some- 
 times the nothingness of time, the infinity of eternity, do so come over 
 me ; the measureless distance (in value) between the things that are seen 
 and those that are unseen ; the necessity of redeeming the short remainder 
 of our time ; and the strong sense of the reality and nearness of the eternal 
 world. I have had long, and for both mind and body, medicinal trudges 
 alone to the village and school. I hope I shall go on thus. I do wish 
 and pray, I may say, to be diligent and cheerful, and I am in good hopes. 
 Deeply sensible as I am of the indulgent love and tenderness of one’s 
 parents and others, yet I am well aware that the world in general will 
 like, love, and approve, according as people please it and deserve well 
 of it ; and, I believe, this holds good, in an unknown extent, even in the 
 tenderest relations of life. The most genuine love needs the unsublime 
 support of its object being of use. The great secondary thing for happi- 
 
SERIOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 50 
 
 1832. set. 23. 
 
 ness is to be loved and liked, and one great duty is to wear a cheerful 
 countenance. 
 
 ******** 
 
 I believe, in a case where a person is without the ties of husband and 
 children, there is all the more occasion to put out as many tendrils as 
 possible. Aunt Catherine Gurney is a striking instauce of this. With 
 the right mixture of independence, she draws interest and happiness from 
 each of her nephews and nieces : the heart is therefore kept in a healthy 
 state of use.” 
 
 December 3, 1831. 
 
 To the same — “ I have read my portion of Isaiah, and two chapters of 
 “ The Rise and Progress,” which I am going through again. I have had such 
 quiet, happy mornings in my sitting-room this week — almost the happiest 
 part of my days. Now and then in solitude I get a little draught of fresh, 
 sweet water, for which I do so deeply thirst ; and there is more than this, I 
 know, to be had — there is sanctification, redemption — there is peace, as 
 well as life. Oh ! that I may experience it ; oh ! that I might taste oftener 
 some drops of the River of Life — that River which maketh glad the City of 
 God — and of which, oh ! blessed, glorious hope, we shall one day drink 
 without measure. I thirst for the sweetness of grace, for joy and peace in 
 believing, and look with longing eyes for that harvest of the fruits of the 
 Spirit, which, as yet, I have but little tasted — ‘ Love, joy, peace, long-suffering, 
 gentleness, meekness, faith, goodness ! ’ I have enjoyed reading Isaiah ; the 
 promises of the future kingdom of Christ are delightful to me, and I have 
 dwelt much on that. ‘ The glorious Lord shall be to you a place of broad 
 rivers and streams.’ ” 
 
 January 7, 1832. 
 
 To the same. — “I have enjoyed my valuable hour every morning 
 with my chapter in Ezekiel, and yet I own I hardly know what to make of 
 such chapters ; I don't think we see them verified, even spiritually, in this 
 world; and yet certainly their straightforward reasoning is for this world 
 ‘ showers of blessings.’ What a promise ! Well, w r e shall have them in 
 
1832 . fet. 24 . HER FATHER. 51 
 
 heaven, if not before! and it is well we should learn to long for them. 
 Yesterday was our darling Chenda’s birthday — twelve years old ! What an 
 era in our lives was her birth ! She is most precious, and one of our greatest 
 treasures. I dread setting our hearts on anything, it is dangerous work for 
 us ; but I do think if there is anything I love it is that child. The text for 
 her birthday 1 have felt with inexpressible desires that it may be realized to 
 her — ‘ The Lord God is a sun and shield ; the Lord will give grace and 
 glory ; no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.’ ” 
 
 London, April 1 . — My thoughts have been chiefly occupied about 
 my most beloved father, whose birthday it is. My tenderest love 
 has indeed hovered round him, would it had been more embodied 
 into prayers for him ; but alas ! it is easier to muse and 
 to wish, than to brace up the mind, recall the flying- thoughts, 
 and address oneself seriously to the throne of God. Oh that we 
 may see his health confirmed, his spirits cheered, his hands 
 strengthened, his cause upheld ! Oh that Thou who hast indeed 
 showed him great and sore troubles, wouldst comfort him on 
 every side and build him up. I am entirely employed in his 
 business ; sometimes very much pressed. It is a great privilege 
 and enjoyment too, and I am so thankful to be of any use. His 
 tenderness and consideration towards me exceed telling. 
 
 Dearest Edward has been at home. Continual thirst after 
 all that I wish for, in, and from him, is in some degree satisfied. 
 He is in many respects a lovely plant, and gives strong evidence 
 of the root of good principle. I am sure his conduct in little 
 things is very striking, truly forbearing, amiable, and humble, 
 is he, dear, dear fellow. 
 
ANTI-SLAVERY MEETING. 
 
 52 
 
 1832. set. 24 . 
 
 Yesterday, the Anti-Slavery meeting most interesting and 
 memorable : my beloved father’s speech the best I ever heard. 
 May I never lose the vivid picture of him as I saw him yester- 
 day, the beauty and majesty of his appearance, the perfect grace 
 of his manner, the energy and force of every movement and 
 gestm-e. He stood like a living colossus, and I looked at him 
 till I could bear it no longer. Mr. O’Connell succeeded. I waited 
 for my dear father, and came home with him. We had a large 
 party afterwards, aunt Fry, Mr. O’Connell, and others. I sat 
 by Mr. Johnston, a young Scotch M.P. 
 
 The following August she writes from Northrepps to her 
 brother Edward : — 
 
 “ Northrepps, August 28, 1832. 
 
 “ My dearest Edward, — We have been goiug on very peaceably since I 
 wrote last. Papa, I must say, is taking his fill of idleness, sauntering about 
 with his two black dogs at his heels, reading Sir John Barrington, riding 
 and sleeping ; but it seems to take him more time to unbend this year 
 than usual. The ladies are settled at the cottage, but aunt Sarah is sadly 
 weak, can hardly stand or walk alone, but all alive and glowing in mind 
 and affections She could hardly creep up the gallery on Sunday, and 
 papa carried her down ; still like herself she was full of spirit .when once 
 settled in her corner, directing the singing, speaking to everybody, and 
 enjoying the sermon In the evening Chenda and I went down to see 
 them, and quite a delightful visit we had, they were so bright ! We read in 
 the Bible, and Anna’s comments were most first-rate, short, pithy, the result 
 of thought and research, and rather critical. She is a noble creature. * * 
 
 Here a long interlude, during one of the gleams between the showers, in 
 which we have been picking up apples among the wet grass, feeding the 
 horses in the field with them, paying a visit to the pigs, the chickens, the 
 puppies, &c., and, finally, dirtying ourselves all over with transplanting 
 
NORTHREPPS LIFE. 
 
 1832. 8et. 24. 
 
 nasturtiums from tire wet beds to the still wetter wood. We follow you with 
 lively interest, and trust you may be preserved from every evil, have much 
 enjoyment and profit, and not forget, under every circumstance, however 
 trivial, to hold fast your profession, holding up a high standard whoever you 
 are with, not forgetting that the great business of life never ceases, and the 
 completion of it may be called for at any moment ! May a blessing be about 
 you, and all of us, every moment, till we get beyond the reach of danger! 
 
 “ Ever thy most loving sister, 
 
 “Priscilla Buxton.” 
 
 53 
 
 About the anniversary of her brother Harry’s death, she 
 writes : — 
 
 Nov. 20. — These have been days of considerable feeling with 
 us, the recurrence of the time of year necessarily causes it. My 
 dearest mamma has looked atfectingly low, but what can we 
 say ? “ He sleeps well.” I have a strong sense of repose, com- 
 
 pleteness, and perfection over the whole thing, and my feeling 
 strongly is, “We bless Thy name for Thy servant departed this 
 life in Thy faith and fear ” ; and oh ! the desire that we may 
 also be admitted to the heavenly kingdom. In myself I have 
 felt happily cheered and stimulated, enjoyed reading by myself, 
 and have also a sense (a very new one to me) of real pleasure 
 in the school and village. I could not but think with surprise, 
 and I hope true thankfulness this morning, that I was glad it 
 was the day for my reading with the poor ! How sometimes 
 are the mountains and hills made plain before one’s face. Teach- 
 ing the school I have really enjoyed, no one but myself can 
 know the wonder of this ; may it be continued. 
 
54 MRS. fry. 1832. aet. 24. 
 
 December 16. — Our dearest Edward returned on Thursday 
 night most blooming and very delightful to me. His mind is 
 decidedly maturing. He now leaves college and goes to business ; 
 may the spirit of power and of a sound mind go with him. My 
 dearest father has successfully fought his battle : we heard of his 
 re-election yesterday. He was very affectionately supported by 
 the Weymouth people, and says in his letter, “ My only desire 
 is to spend my life in the service of Him who gave it, and of 
 His creatures.’' 
 
 We have had the great and rare privilege of having aunt 
 Fry quietly settled with us for nearly a fortnight. I have 
 been so impressed with her powers, as well as her extraordinary 
 graces, that I feel as if almost I had never known her before. I 
 want to gain a hint from her in the great art of being delightful 
 and pleasing to others. Why is it that every one rejoices to 
 see her ? Why is half an hour of her company a positive treat ? 
 I think it is her mercifulness, her excusing palliating principle 
 Perhaps in some cases this may be carried too far, but at the 
 same time in point of loveableness, it is the thing to be aimed 
 at. Her constant politeness and attention to all is almost un- 
 equalled. Her liberality of feeling, no narrowness, acknowledg- 
 ing and seeing the good in all dispensations. Then her prudence. 
 You may safely trust yourself in her hands, she is so prudent, 
 so cautious, she never does allow even her tacit sanction to any- 
 thing said against, or to the disadvantage of those to whom 
 she is bound. She is the centre of a large circle, and the 
 
1832. set. 24. 
 
 MRS. FRY. 
 
 5 
 
 confidante of all : but nothing ever comes from her but what 
 is soothing, softening, and sweetening. “ In her tongue is the 
 law of kindness.’' 1 You cannot get her to say a word against any 
 person ; nor does she think a thought against them. She sees the 
 bright side of people ; O that I could acquire this most lovely 
 and loveable habit ! Another remarkable point in her conduct is 
 her scrupulous veracity : in the relation of circumstances, how 
 strictly truthful she is ! It is one of her great charms and claims 
 to confidence and dependence. And how is the value of all these 
 lovely points increased, when we know the root from which 
 they spring ; not the external desire of pleasing — not the spon- 
 taneous growth of a beautiful temper and disposition (though 
 both these act in their right places) — but from the lively remem- 
 brance of the account to be rendered. She said in our committee 
 that she was morning, noon, and night under the deep impression 
 of her responsibility towards others. Here is the secret of all 
 her sweetness, all her forbearance, attention, politeness, mercy, 
 and diligence ; and a most impressive example it is. To have 
 her safe at leisure in our house is a perfect sight. Her spirit 
 and company are repandu among us and in our family. Her 
 ministry, too, most choice ; and we have delightful sittings all 
 together of a morning up in my room, reading Simeon’s Sermons 
 on the Spirit, and talking, &c. She is lovely, and as great a 
 mistress of Christian truth as Mr. Simeon is a master. My 
 dearest mother is the only greater saint in the world, I think ; 
 and dearest aunt’s company is really like breathing balm. 
 
56 KETUKN TO LONDON. — BIKTHDAY. 1833 . Set. 24 - 5 . 
 
 Again settled in London, site writes : — 
 
 54, Devonshire-St., Friday, Feb. 8, 1833. 
 
 To her aunt Sarah and cousin Anna. — “ My dearest aunt and Anna, — I 
 begin to write to you this morning as a natural part of the life. I suppose 
 Northrepps, its hall and cottage, are still standing. My feelings are as if 
 they had sunk and vanished like a dream. Your letters were a sugar-plum 
 to us at Earlham. From thence we posted to Holbrook, where we received 
 such a warm, cordial welcome, next day to Colchester, and yesterday evening 
 arrived here. Our arrival was most characteristic : papa and Edward gone 
 to the house, Miss Glover and Miss Jarvis to bed, the drawing-room table 
 spread with newspapers — English, Jamaica, and Cape parliamentary papers 
 and bills. We all laughed, but had tea and supper and went to bed — the 
 charms of the latter I need not tell you — but scarcely had I ceased to heed 
 the peculiar intonations of street cries, than mamma came in to me with the 
 news, that papa was very happy, for that the ministers had agreed to under- 
 take the abolition of slavery ! This is, to say the least, a cheering ray for 
 us — the smiles on my father's countenance are no little joy to see — and I 
 am struck with his confiding, untenacious, and humble spirit, so willing to 
 retire into the back-ground, so perfectly indifferent to the glory of the thing, 
 yet so careful in leaving nothing undone on his jDart, freely parting with his 
 best and most laboured weapons if it seems they will do more execution in 
 other hands. We are so entirely getting into our stream again. This 
 morning, at breakfast, in came a letter from Lord Suffield to be answered : 
 then no sooner had the rest dispersed, than (1 was standing by the fire) 
 another quick knock ; and, to complete the perfectly London feeling, in 
 marched George Stephen. I could hardly help bursting out laughing ; 
 however, he seated himself and began. Soon papa’s head and shirt peeped 
 in, and he had his breakfast, George S. talking to him all the while. Alto- 
 gether, the well-known effect of everything made me fancy that our six 
 months’ absence had been a dream.” 
 
 February 25. 
 
 To her aunt Sarah, — “ I feel as if I had just attained a platform in life 
 (25 years old), and am looking around me, beholding my inheritance. I have 
 
1833. set. 25. anti-slavery delegates. 
 
 climbed up to full mature life, and have now to take my stand among those 
 who are fully embarked iu the business of it. Manifold are my thoughts on 
 this ; but I have found a most beautiful verse in Ezekiel which I wish to rest 
 upon; and oh ! may I practically and daily make it my choice, as I do most 
 sincerely and deliberately now ; ‘ I am their Possession,’ saith the Lord of 
 the Levites. 4 They shall have no inheritance in Israel : I am their Inherit- 
 ance.’ May He give it— give the heart to love it — give all that is needed. 
 Your note, my dearest aunt, exactly speaks my feelings. 1 There is a lliver,’ 
 certainly ; may we but taste it — content if it be only drops, and filtered 
 through some mud — on this side the grave ! ” 
 
 The following extracts refer to the great Anti-Slavery 
 interest 
 
 April 11, 1833. 
 
 To her cousin Anna Gurney. — “ We all admire and love your zeal and 
 that of your old women. We, in our way, are as busy as you, I think. 
 Edward is hurrying from place to place, attending committee meetings, and 
 we at home are writing nearly all day and sending off books. The old 
 women are welcome to sign. The flame is spreading far and wide. Devon- 
 shire is going to send five hundred petitions, the West of Essex three 
 hundred, and fifty from the neighbourhood of Colchester. Papa does so 
 enjoy your letters ! Certainly the intelligent children may sign ; not the 
 babes. Papa is sure Anna invented that criterion.” 
 
 Hampstead, April 16. 
 
 “ Now, after a week’s absence, we return to a world of agitation. The 
 delegates meet to-morrow. More than two hundred were expected when we 
 last heard. Edward is gone to speak at a great meeting at the Tower 
 Hamlets. I am now going off by stage to be with my father." 
 
 London, April 19, 1833. 
 
 “ How beautifully you have done your part of our work! just like your- 
 selves, to be sure ! We always keep your letters for a bonne-bouche for papa. 
 Well, now for our Anti-Slavery Parliament, which is going to conclude its 
 
PUBLIC DINNER. 
 
 58 
 
 1833. set. 25. 
 
 session and its existence by a grand public dinner at four o’clock this day. 
 Their meeting yesterday was highly successful, interesting, and encouraging. 
 There were three hundred and thirty-nine delegates assembled in Exeter 
 Hall, from two hundred and twenty-seven places, to meet the Anti-Slavery 
 Committee. Uncle Gurney was put in the chair; and most admirably he 
 performed the office, with the greatest good humour, decision, and firmness. 
 They all came home very much pleased, my father’s brow much lightened, 
 and those who have a less weight, in high spirits.” 
 
 “ Evening, half-past ten o’clock. — I find myself alone, just come back from 
 the dizzy sight of four hundred gentlemen at dinner, lights, speechifying, and 
 clapping in proportion. We have indeed had the treat, the very great treat, of 
 seeing this unique and memorable assembly from a little morsel of an invisible 
 gallery near the roof of the great hall in which they were. There they were 
 assembled, from all parts of England — clergymen, merchants, magistrates, 
 squires, besides, as might have been expected, a large body of those who are 
 undervalued for being always on the right side — Friends and the Methodists. 
 The spirit in which they have all come together has been wonderful ; such 
 energy and self-sacrificing, and, at the same time, such unwonted forbearance 
 and unanimity. My father’s tact and powers of winning have never been 
 more displayed. It is his coronation day as leader of the cause ! though he, 
 if possible, deserved the crown far more when he was fighting alone than 
 now when he has that army at his back.” 
 
 “ Saturday morning. — They met. again at Exeter Hall yesterday morning, 
 then went in a body on foot to Downing-St. I was told that they formed a 
 singular and wonderful sight. There was a rush to get in, and the great 
 room was immediately full. Their mission was thought to bear its full 
 weight with government ; and my father seems, on the whole, well satisfied 
 with the minster’s reply. At four o'clock, as I said before, they met for 
 the dinner. When my father got up to speak, and the long continued cheer- 
 ing was at an end, you may fancy our interest. He spoke, indeed, most 
 beautifully : touching was the display of his mind, which he unveiled more 
 than usual — his deep sense of the Providence that had attended their course, 
 
1833. set. 25. slavery cause. 59 
 
 which he retraced in a variety of instances — his hopes for the future — the 
 motives and principles on which they should act. One of the best speeches 
 that followed was uncle Gurney’s, which astonished everybody. About nine, 
 we came away, congratulations flying on all sides — far, far too sanguine, I 
 know, these things make us.” 
 
 April 28. — Yesterday we had a charming party. It consisted 
 of ten M.P’s, all of one mind — ten thoroughly devoted Christians — 
 Lord Mandeville, Sir A. Agnew, Sir R. Simeon, Sir H. Verney, 
 Sir G. Grey, Mr. Sinclair, Mr. Plump tre, Mr. Forster, Mr. Johnston, 
 and papa, I thought it a memorable, comforting, and most in- 
 teresting sight. They, with four more who were not present, 
 compose a little club who, every night, drink tea together, at nine, 
 and have reading and prayer afterwards. It was a fine sight ! 
 My father was one of the original four who began it. To assemble 
 them in our house was no small privilege. In the evening, Mr. 
 Plumptre read and prayed delightfully. 
 
 May 5. — How my heart has been drawn out in desires for 
 our Slavery cause, which comes on nest Tuesday week, the 14th ! 
 Really the interest of it is become intense ; and if the ministers 
 fail on the 14th, what shall we do? what will the poor, unhappy 
 sufferers do ? Oh ! that fervent, effectual prayer might be abun- 
 dantly poured out at this most important crisis. To us personally 
 it is of such immense importance. May the compassionate God 
 hear the sighing of the miserable and our earnest desires ! My 
 dearest father’s health and comfort are so involved in it that I 
 feel it one of the most important turns in our lives ; but it may 
 
60 DAGENHAM. 1833. set. 25 . 
 
 slip past, as so many have, and come to nothing. May the spirit 
 of prayer he given about it — this is my principal desire. 
 
 May 7. 
 
 To her aunt Sarah — “ ‘ Come down’ to you, my dearest aunt ! No, indeed ; 
 in this the crisis of our fate we must live or die together! Uncle Gurney pro- 
 poses a grand ‘jollification ’ — may it, oh ! may it but be so in our hearts — on the 
 15th. I shall eat white bait and drink hock (which are to be the tokens of our 
 joy) with zest indeed! I shall have to embalm some of the little fish as 
 memorials. But, seriously, I am laughing on the edge of a precipice, for 
 most thoroughly burdened, cast down, and anxious have we been. You 
 must know, we have taken infinite pains about our petitions, of which 
 our house has been full — four hundred we had collected — and I have been 
 like a queen bee over them, indorsing, folding, packing them in order, 
 and making out a grand list. Mr. Macauley says there were one thousand 
 petitions presented last night.” 
 
 Dagenham,* May 11. 
 
 To the same. — “ I long, if possible, to send you a line this morning, 
 though I do not know if we can attain to the post by any means. Here we 
 are in our singular retirement-— my father, Chenda, and I — living out of 
 doors on the rich bank which is over-flowing with grass and flowers, and 
 looking at the beautiful river bank — there it lies, stretched out, its lovely 
 reaches glittering in the sun. Altogether I have tasted some real enjoyment 
 in the exuberance of spring in this place; but far more have I rejoiced to 
 see my dearest father wandering about without his hat for hours together. 
 He has, however, been reflecting too deeply during these walks to leave me 
 quite at ease. Nothing can be more interesting, as you can imagine, than 
 this seclusion with him, at perhaps one of the most important periods of 
 his life.” 
 
 London, May 16. 
 
 To the same — “ After this letter, I think I must burn my paper and pens, 
 and give my poor wrist, which is really worn out, and always aches, some rest. 
 I am tired, most utterly tired, of writing, and of everything connected with 
 * A fishing cottage near the Thames. 
 
1833 . ?et. 25 . monster petition. 61 
 
 work. As to petitions, I only wish I might never see the face of another. 
 What a had mind you will think I am in ! The fact is, I am exhausted, 
 and the almost constant uneasiness in my hip frets my temper, I am sorry 
 enough to say. Now, having vented my complaints, I think I shall be 
 able to brighten up and tell you our story. It is useless to remember the 
 worries of a few days ago, when my father was in such trial and suspense, 
 awaiting the answer of Government. The relief of Dagenham I can hardly 
 describe. It was a wonderful help for him to be out of reach of letters and 
 visitors, though we had daily expresses from London. I wrote lectures to 
 a few of his best and kindest helpers, about his health, making the worst of 
 it, to teach them to let him alone. I felt strongly that his position towards 
 the Government was a good one. It seemed to say — ‘I give you up in 
 despair, and am gone away, till you make an overture I have done with 
 you.’ Nearly all Sunday we left him alone, drifting about in the boat. 
 The next morning at seven o’clock we left our pleasant sheltering nest 
 and returned to all manner of business and discussions. I spent the whole 
 day, till nine o'clock at night, over the petitions at Devonshire House, 
 till the great mass became far too heavy for us to move or roll over. Next 
 day I rode with my father, and in the evening we went to the House. 
 A vast number of Slavery Petitions were presented. His turn came last. 
 He asked leave to take out a deputation of members to bring in our 
 monster. So he, Mr. Evans, Mr. Johnston, and some one else, disappeared, 
 and returned and heaved it on to the table, amid loud laughter and cheers. 
 It produced a great effect. We then listened, for three hours and a half, 
 to Mr. Stanley’s capital speech (announcing the Government plan for 
 emancipation), followed by Lord Howick’s. There was quite a levee in 
 the Ventilator — many ladies, and gentlemen, too. Mr. Stanley was there 
 frequently, Mr. Johnston constantly, the Duke of Richmond, Lord Morpeth, 
 &c., &c. We came away at about one. My father was delighted. ‘ My 
 work in life is done, since I have lived to hear my own doctrines from 
 the Treasury Bench.’ ‘ Emancipation is effected.' ‘ The thing is done.’ — 
 These are the phrases on his lips. 
 
 “Ever yours (half dead), P. B.” 
 
62 ILLNESS OF HER COUSIN, 1833. set. 25. 
 
 In ending a volume of her journal, she writes 
 
 July 14. — My dearest father seems well and in good heart, 
 and this is the principal thing. I cannot express one-hundredth 
 part of the feelings with which my heart overflows about them 
 all : my precious mother, dearest Edward, growing daily into an 
 established and delightful character, our blooming Chenda and 
 the two dear little boys, my precious namesake, and her yet 
 more precious mother, and all my dear beloved friends and re- 
 lations. Oh ! my good and gracious Heavenly Father, Thee I 
 acknowledge in the past, to Thee I would commit the future ! 
 I would be thine, whether in life or death ! Take me and make 
 me thine own, redeemed by thy Son, sanctified by thy Spirit, 
 thine now and for evermore — Priscilla Buxton. 
 
 Sunday, August 11. — We may indeed say : “ In all our danger 
 and necessities, stretch forth Thy right hand to help and defend 
 us.” May the fulfilment of this be indeed our experience, for 
 now is the time of our danger and necessity. Dearest Sam Hoare 
 lies very, very ill ; the fulness in his head and often returning 
 bleedings from the throat are indeed dreadful. We are struck 
 with amazement and alarm ! It seems as though the earth under 
 our feet were shaken. Oh ! may our hearts be fixed ; may we 
 learn the lesson intended by this startling visitation, and oh ! 
 still more, if it is not wrong, may the blow be averted. He is 
 described as in a most child-like state, apparently closely re- 
 sembling that of our precious Harry, not able to say much, but 
 evincing the most lovely spirit of preparation and reliance. What 
 
1833. jet. 25. sajviuel hoaee, jun. 63 
 
 he does say is sweet and instructive indeed ; and of his blessed 
 state we can never entertain one doubt. He is indeed redeemed, 
 sanctified, and already, as it w T ere, almost clothed in white. In 
 his precious and most deeply afflicted wife there appears to be a 
 gentle work of preparation carried on by a merciful hand. Oh ' 
 may she indeed be uplifted all the way through, above the sad 
 waves wdiich are now rolling over her earthly path. 
 
 Hampstead, Sept. 27. 
 
 To her aunt Sarah. — “ My dearest aunt, — The account of your Bible 
 meeting is highly interesting. I well know that things go on, whoever is 
 away; and I also know that in these real and living objects, the more the 
 sorrows and uncertainties of life are felt, the more the true remedy is prized. 
 Dearest Edward’s speech I am sorry to have missed, but I treasure all the 
 accounts of it with the most lively interest. What a blessing, my dearest 
 aunt, what an unfathomable blessing, to see the question decided as to him ; 
 to see his side in life chosen. I have thought much of this since I left 
 home, and surely it is a comfort for us which ought to overbalance many a 
 blank. Our journey from Northrepps was prosperous. I had a real pleasure 
 in reading Pascal’s ‘ Lettres Provinciales.’ My father gave them me as we 
 started, with such strong recommendations, that I thought I must try to get 
 through some, so to crabbed old French and a small print I settled myself, 
 and wonderful indeed I found it. At Upton we met the -warmest reception ; 
 they gave us tea and supper. The kittens came in ; the deer to the wundow ; 
 papa began romping with the girls : in short, you may figure the party, as 
 mamma says, they are like ‘ a nest of young doves in a large open cage.’” 
 
 Northrepps, Oct. I. — I must try and retain some memorial of 
 my visit to Hampstead. My dearest friend and I were at times 
 permitted to taste something of the fountain spring of genuine 
 consolation in the contemplation of time and eternity, and in 
 
64 SACRAMENT AND 1833. Jet. 25. 
 
 giving up to sorrow the short pilgrimage here. Sunday, the 
 29th, was a memorable day. After dinner we assembled in the 
 library to receive the sacrament with dearest Sam, Catherine 
 Gurney, Aunt Cunningham and my father with us. Robert 
 Hankinson administered it in a delightful manner, and indeed 
 our hearts were drawn out. We met on that solemn and precious 
 ground, the ground of all our hopes, and met, as it were, there 
 to part. 
 
 “ Oh soothe us, haunt us, night and day, 
 
 Ye gentle spirits, far away. 
 
 With whom we shared the cup of Grace, 
 
 Then parted — ye to Christ’s embrace. 
 
 We to the toilsome world again.” 
 
 Oh ! may the rest be true of us ! 
 
 “Yet mindful of the unearthly strain 
 Practised with you at Eden’s door 
 To be sung on — where angels soar 
 With blended voices evermore.” 
 
 Sam spoke of it afterwards with great comfort, saying at night, 
 “ What a rich day.” I went in the evening with Robert to the 
 lower chapel, which was cheering. At night, with dearest C. ; my 
 heart was wrung for her, but I could but sit by and sorrow for her. 
 The next morning I had a very valuable conversation with dear 
 aunt Hoare. May I treasure in my heart the remembrance of her 
 deportment at this season. My father’s ministrations had been 
 delightful, and she was really strengthened by them. Alien 
 dearest Sam came into the library about half-past twelve, I went 
 
1833. ast. 25. conversation with s. h. 65 
 
 in with Cath., read him some of Doctor Philips’ Letters, &c. 
 When Catherine went down to luncheon, he said almost to my 
 alarm, “ Pris. shall take care of me.” We sat some minutes in 
 silence. He then began to speak, but with his voice painfully 
 interrupted by shortness of breath. “ We did meet yesterday, 
 and on solid ground,” alluding to the sacrament, on which he 
 dwelt some time with peculiar feeling, expressing great enjoyment 
 in it. After a pause, he began about himself, “ I do not think I 
 am at all better, I think I have rather gone back the last few days,” 
 and then added, “ I am very happy, if it were not for Catherine,” 
 (with many tears at the mention of her name,) “ I should have 
 very few clogs.” I thought it was rather a relief to him to weep, 
 and could only join him, for what could I do, or say? He spoke 
 of our tie, “ that precious tie, which has indeed grown with our 
 growth, and been entwined with almost every circumstance of 
 our lives.” Is it possible that I shall live to see his course 
 closed ? Him on whom I have been in the habit of leaning, to 
 whom I have so often referred myself, whom I have so long 
 loved, and to whom I looked as one of my greatest stays for 
 life ! Soon we recurred to the glorious theme of consolation. I 
 said there is a blessed hope. “ Oh ! ” he replied, with the greatest 
 animation, “ How often do I think of those words ‘ that blessed 
 hope ’ hundreds of times, that blessed hope and the glorious 
 appearing.” Seeing him exhausted, I took up the book and 
 began to read, with how many and how deep feelings I cannot 
 say, but may I never forget this conversation with my dearly 
 
GG death of s. h. 1833. set. 25. 
 
 beloved cousin and brother ! Soon dearest C. brought in their 
 smiling unconscious child, and put her down on the carpet. 
 She laughed and crowed and never showed herself more lovely 
 and engaging. He looked at her with pleasure and tender love, 
 but I thought was too much affected by it. Yet I am glad I 
 can tell that precious child of the look of benediction her dearest 
 father gave her. 
 
 October 30. — The post last night brought us the not unlooked- 
 for, yet truly overwhelming intelligence of the actual departure 
 of my beloved cousin. I cannot realize or believe it, and it must 
 be a work of time to make me take in the extent of this vast 
 and irreparable calamity, for so I regard it to us all for life. Oh ! 
 may a measure of his spirit descend upon me — his upright, steady, 
 rooted spirit of duty and of truth. 
 
 Nov. 5. — Saturday was the funeral. We all met in our deep 
 mourning, the cottage ladies with us, and uncle Joseph, who had 
 come from Earlham. Oh ! how solemn was it thus to assemble in 
 spirit round the grave of such a beloved friend and brother. My 
 dearest father read most of the service, and after a solemn silence 
 he prayed, giving thanks fervently. 
 
 On Sunday evening we had a large assembly of our families, 
 friends, and neighbours — above seventy. After a hymn, my father 
 read, spoke, and prayed most beautifully. The testimony to my 
 dearly beloved cousin was music to me. After a pause, uncle 
 Joseph began ; his sermon was excellent, I think, for many 
 present — (how easy it is to be edified for others !) He spoke of 
 
1833-4. set. 25-6. 
 
 RETURN TO LONDON. 
 
 67 
 
 dearest Sam’s last words — “ I am thine, O Lord,” and put it to 
 all whether they could say the same — whether they had entered 
 into covenant with the Lord and were His. 
 
 December 31. — Here expires the memorable 1833. Where, 
 what, and how shall I he this day year ! Do Thou decide, 0 
 my God ; take the year for Thine own, keep and bless it, let it 
 elapse under the shadow of Thy wings and find us and ours 
 nearer Heaven. 
 
 “ Devonshire Street, April 15. 
 
 “ Here I am once more; and here at last I trust we are going to settle, 
 having known little of that for ten weeks past. Since I wrote last I have 
 been a good deal at Hampstead ; and the last fortnight taking a delightful 
 journey with aunt Fry and P. Gurney. We went to Poole, Southampton, 
 Gosport, and a charming tour in the Isle of Wight. I thoroughly enjoyed it 
 — the variety was so great, and aunt Fry’s company such a feast in itself. I 
 delighted too in P. Gurney.” 
 
 Northrepps Cottage, May 12. 
 
 From her cousin, Anna Gurney. — “ My dearest Priscilla, — It just comes 
 into my mind to give you a little sketch of our state and condition. I wish 
 you could just now see us in our very quiet life at this moment, my partner 
 playing some gay tune while I am writing — door open into the drawing- 
 room. I often long to record the happiness of these days ; hut you might 
 as well try to bottle the fragrance of the furze blossoms ; and, after all, 
 there is a shivery sense of its not lasting. So far, we are very comfortable, 
 and tolerably prudent My partner has just given up coming down to 
 reading, so I expound Jeremiah to myself and Randall, &e. We have 
 perched up a new gallery in the church (at Overstrand) ; it is over the 
 door, and the organ is to stand there. It was not, however, finished 
 yesterday ; but the church was so full we were glad to tumble up my 
 boys into it sailor fashion, a feat they much enjoyed performing for the 
 benefit of our eyes. There were fourteen of them, and a diadem they 
 
 L 
 
G8 LETTERS FROM A. G. AND S. M. B. 1834. Set. 26. 
 
 were to our congregation! not above two of them asleep, and the others 
 far too delighted with their perch to think of absconding. I really am as 
 pleased with my converts as St. Paul could have been with his * saints 
 that were at Ephesus,’ and gave them much the same advice, viz. : to let 
 all clamour be put away from them. I hope you will not think me in a 
 naughty mind, for I am in a remarkably good one. I have had two days 
 of fishing — a few soles that would have made your father sing for joy; 
 no curiosities, but one nasty creature that I felt bound to preserve for 
 Charles, and so I bundled it into my tract case, and he is such a monster 
 that I now do not like to look for him and take him out. I send an extract 
 I made the other day. Do not let your father forget that if he wants any 
 Dutch books or papers overhauled, I can do it for him, and with great glee, 
 if he will employ me.” 
 
 Bradpole, June 11. 
 
 P. B. to C. E. Hoare. — “ Being here suits me exactly — the perfect retire- 
 ment from life is balm, and the simplicity and character of it very attractive 
 to me. My dear aunt Forster’s company is a great treat; her perfect naivete 
 and nature, and, at the same time, the inherent and acquired stores of her 
 mind, and her most tender heart, and, perhaps, more than all, the flesh and 
 blood sympathy and unity I feel with her, make it no little privilege to be 
 with her.” 
 
 Bed Lion, Henley, June 23. 
 
 From her aunt Sarah. — “ My dearest Priscilla, — I wish to write to you 
 to relieve you about myself, for I am well persuaded your compassion 
 follows me under the measure of bodily suffering now appointed me ; and 
 for your sake, my love, I wish to encourage you by acknowledging how 
 much the Lord hath done for me, and my confidence in His care makes 
 me glide more smoothly over the tops of the rough billows of life When, 
 through grace, I am assisted to keep my eye single, I am often refreshed 
 by the possession of the gift of peace, and partake of the gildings of pleasure. 
 Ease of body has certainly not been my portion, and I have suffered a good 
 deal since we parted ; but I have had no misgivings as to our course, and 
 so many mercies attend us that I think we must be in our right road, and I 
 
183L aet. 26. engagement. 69 
 
 am comforted about my partner, and disposed to persevere in our course, 
 though it is actually being called upon to walk by faith, rather than by sight 
 and sense. 
 
 “ Anna is delightful, buoyant, and brilliant, and we have been like 
 lovers in this lovely spot. Dearest girl, you must come here if you will 
 have a wedding trip, you could not fail to enjoy it, and to take a most 
 favourable impression of yourselves, your circumstances, and everything ; 
 the union is excellent — of life and repose — mails flying over the bridge, 
 coaches loaded, all good charities prevailing, friends dropping in to Henley 
 meeting; and turn your head and you have the quiet stream, the verdant 
 meadows, the majestic swan, and the pretty green gondolos of pleasure 
 moored to this establishment to keep their Sabbath’s rest.” 
 
 The great interest of tier engagement almost immediately fol- 
 lowed her return to London. She thus writes of it : — 
 
 Devonshire-St., Sunday, June 25. — Since I last wrote I have 
 been in doubt and darkness, but now I am in light and clear- 
 ness, in wonderful peace and happiness, engaged to my beloved 
 friend Mr. Johnston, delighted, satisfied, and charmed with my 
 allotment. The inward repose, tranquillity, and pleasure I have 
 since felt I cannot describe. To my God I render the praise, and 
 only desire that He would take us under His most gracious and 
 tender protection, lead us gently through our pilgrimage, and 
 bring us in safety to Himself. 
 
 The King’s Arms, Oxford, June 26. 
 
 From her aunt Sarah — “ My dearest Priscilla, — So I have lived to see 
 the day when I am to congratulate you on being engaged. I do wish you 
 happy, blessed, and perfectly mated to your own heart’s content, with all 
 the powers of my soul. For myself, you must reeolleet that your marriage 
 at any time must be an irreparable loss to me, and I can only strive to 
 

 keep down selfishness that I may heartily rejoice in all that rejoiceth 
 thee. Shall I send my love to Mr. Johnston for carrying off my idol ? 
 Well, give it and beg him to be generous, for he cannot know your worth 
 as we do. Oh ! if I might have had two years more, I have thought ; 
 but it must not be, and the sooner we plunge into our new condition the 
 better. 
 
 “ The letters here are delivered at eight o’clock in the morning. You 
 may imagine me alone, reading that collect beginning thus : ‘ O Lord, 
 our Heavenly Father, Almighty and everlasting God, who hast safely brought 
 us to the beginning of this day, defend us in the same with Thy mighty 
 power,’ when my man-maid put your mother's letter into my hand. When 
 I again referred to the collect, you may be sure I included you in my 
 petitions; for if I feel that I need strength from above to enable me to 
 submit to the loss and change proposed for us, you no less need the 
 assistance of ‘Almighty power’ to help you to accomplish it, and it will 
 be a great mercy if you and I, and others also, are day by day so kept by 
 grace 1 that we fall into no sin, neither run into any kind of danger, but 
 that all our doings may be ordered ’ for us. 
 
 “ My dearest partner is gone off with Mr. Duncan’s elder brother to 
 his museum. I am delighted to have her so indulged, she is really profiting 
 by our journey, and it suits me so well that I am abundantly rewarded 
 for any effort I made in seeking to meet her wishes. 
 
 “ With dearest love to you all, I am, 
 
 “ Yours most affectionately, 
 
 “S. M. B." 
 
 From A. G. — “ My dear Pris., — It strikes me you are making a great 
 boggle about this business. If Mr. J- and you wish to have the pastime 
 of a little bit of a wedding, why not? It would take up only a bit of 
 a morning before the twelve o’clock sitting, and if he has not, poor fellow, 
 a home to take you to, why ! he could give you a tea in the Ventilator ! 
 and so do the thing quite genteely of his own rights, and then you could 
 set off in the Scotch steamer for a honeymoon cruise, be out, say from 
 
1834. aet. 26, CONGRATULATIONS. 71 
 
 one Sunday to another, see ail the outline of the coast from London to 
 Aberdeen, and back again ; and then could not you keep Devonshire 
 Street clean, as you once pictured, and have an allowance for soap ! 
 
 - “ Yours, A. G." 
 
 King's Arms, Oxford, June 27. 
 
 “ My dearest Priscilla, 
 
 “ ‘Well, it can't be helped,’ as the superannuated landlady said when 
 she heard this morning that I had passed a sleepless night ; and so I say, 
 for young ladies will be married, dear, and I must go on loving thee just 
 as usual. I am rvell satisfied with your self-satisfied letter. I am thank- 
 ful you enjoy your engagement, that was more than I dared to expect; 
 though as to your marriage I think we have all good confidence that your 
 choice has been rightly directed. I cannot write much, I am rather weak ; 
 but I have settled the colour of our wedding gowns for thee ! Blue-purple 
 I should like as the Buxton line, if that colour be not out of date. I will 
 have the nicest for thee, my bonny bride ! Thank you for writing to me ; 
 and now, dearest girl, farewell. 
 
 “ Yours till death, ever the same, 
 
 “ S. M. B.” 
 
 Sunday, July 13. — -A fortnight of this memorable season has 
 passed since I last wrote, and but a fortnight and some days 
 remain of my engagement. I am to be married on Friday the 
 1st of August, and to go off direct northwards. I have been 
 wonderfully preserved in calmness and tranquillity, and have never 
 had a fear or a doubt. What I have to feel as to the beloved 
 ones here I will not touch upon ; but even in this respect I am 
 spared bitter pain, though my heart is moved to its centre, and 
 drawn forth in inexpressible love towards them. 
 
72 
 
 BEFORE HER MARRIAGE. 
 
 1834. set. 26. 
 
 July 19. 
 
 To C. E. Hoare. — “ The first of August is more and more the burden 
 of every song. A medal is struck, which is good, though not perfect ; and 
 papers are flying about, saying, ‘rejoice! rejoice!’ and oh! say I, may 
 there be showers, nay, a flood of blessings upon it! You can just fancy 
 our state — the world collecting round us, presents, clothes, and finishings 
 of preparations, Anna Buxton and Catherine Gurney staying with us. 
 The cottage ladies arrived last night. My father is wonderfully struck 
 with his magnificent costume for the day — his splendid blue coat, bright 
 buttons, white silk waistcoat, and a new white hat ! My things are very 
 nice. The snow is not so white, and the light not so shining, as my white 
 satin.” 
 
 Saturday, July 26. — It would be perhaps as well not to write 
 at this juncture of my life ; but I yield to the inclination. I 
 am carried on wonderfully, yet there are some exquisite pangs 
 to go through. My indescribable love to my dearest mother 
 brings me into feelings which indeed I hardly conceived. Dear, 
 dear creature, my whole heart is drawn out towards her ; but I 
 say nothing ; I cannot venture hardly to touch or kiss her ; 
 dearest Edward, too, and Chenda, and my noble father ; oh ! 
 how more than dear are they all ! I have at times the fountains 
 of tears opened, and a great relief it is. I long to be away from 
 them, and yet how I do dread the aching sense of distance ! Oh ! 
 my God, thou hast led me thus far, continue to uphold me, 
 strengthen and maintain me. 
 
 Thursday, July 31. — Here is the eve of my wedding-day! 
 Everything is done. I am going to lock up my desk and close 
 my single life. We have got through most wonderfully, calmed, 
 
1834. set. 26. 
 
 BEFORE HER MARRIAGE. 
 
 73 
 
 sustained, and helped. Mr. Johnston, my most dear mother, and I, 
 have had a precious time together of reading and prayer. Oh ! 
 that my dearest mother may find the breastplate of faith, and 
 the hope of salvation an helmet, for her whole heart is drawn 
 out in unspeakable love. 
 
 ooXMo 
 
74 FIRST OF AUGUST, 1834. 1834. Set. 2G. 
 
 MARRI ED LIFE. 
 
 Her own account of her wedding-day : — 
 
 Henley-on-Thames, August 2, twelve o’clock. 
 
 To C. E. Hoare. — “My most dear Catherine, — We have determined to 
 stay at this delicious place till Monday, therefore we have a delightfully 
 leisure resting-day to-day. It is wonderful what a power of enjoyment is 
 given me; though I am rather tearful to-day, yet I am perfectly at rest. 
 I do hope that some one will write for posterity, an account of our wonderful 
 wedding-day. I think there never was anything so perfect in all its parts. 
 It was to me a sight — the extraordinary beauty of the young people, the 
 intense concentration of interest in the day, the perfection of the arrange- 
 ments, the solemnity of the service, my father’s reading and prayer, the 
 presentation of the gifts, the toasts and speeches, the dresses and the 
 flowers. I never enjoyed a wedding-day half so much. I must try and 
 tell you the details. 
 
 “ I had a troublesome drawing* to finish the night before, and our evening 
 was one of overflowing excitement, and rather too great press. At twelve, 
 the drawing was done. My mother, Edward, Anna, and Sarah Gurney, had 
 sat up with me ; and I then proposed a short reading. After a few verses 
 of the last of Thessalonians I could not refrain from a few words of prayer, 
 that we might fairly overlook all these things and fix our hearts on the 
 real prospect before us — that we may there be united to those who are in 
 the bosom of Jesus already — that to that we might look, as to our home. 
 In the midst my beloved father came in. Upstairs I finished off several 
 matters and wrote six notes, and rested well after all : breakfast was in the 
 drawing-room. My dearest father read Psalm ciii, and followed it by 
 
 * See opposite page. 
 
1834 . set. 26 . first of august, 1834 . 
 
 75 
 
 fervent prayer for the slaves, and then for me. After breakfast, I helped 
 to adorn my lovely bridesmaid and sister, and soon Kitty, Elizabeth, and 
 Pris. arrived. I was so bright ! I let them all come into my room, and, 
 in glee, I was dressed in my bridal white satin. The girls were a sight, 
 one more beautiful than another. They were in fairy white, and all wore 
 natural flowers, mostly in their hair. The scarlet geranium in Kitty’s 
 shining locks was one of the most lovely pictures I ever saw. But I am 
 forestalling. At length I was dressed ; my white shoes pinched me 
 dreadfully, but the girls only laughed at my cramp. Uncle Cunningham 
 came up to see me, and soon all drove off; then my parents and I. My 
 bridesmaids were standing about the church door, and others of the party; 
 many caught my hand as I passed and as I walked up the side aisle with 
 my father ; my mother and Edward next ; then Mr. Johnston and Chenda. 
 By the altar sat aunt Sarah and Anna Gurney. My father made a great 
 muddle, and would hardly let me get to the rails, and, after all, settled 
 himself on Mr. J.’s side ! At length, however, we were put right — nearly 
 sixty round us. Uncle Cunningham read the service to my heart’s content. 
 
 ‘ I will,’ said Mr. Johnston, in so sturdy a manner, and so broad an accent, 
 that I (inwardly) laughed. My voice and power were astonishing to myself ; 
 but I should leave others to tell of my superior behaviour. How each 
 word seemed to sink into my heart ! We proceeded to the vestry, where 
 there was plenty of kissing and signing of names : — my father, Edward, 
 and Chenda, Sir A. Agnew and Sir H. Verney, the witnesses. We drove 
 home, Bessie and Pris. ready to receive us, and I felt quite in glee ; we 
 had cake and wine, and talked and laughed. I quite enjoyed greeting 
 everybody, and felt thoroughly happy and at ease. My mother and I 
 were alone for a few minutes ; she was wonderful through the whole day, 
 up to everything, attentive to everybody, and looking beautiful. After 
 sufficient loitering, the party gathered, and my father took his place by 
 the table in the drawing-room. He read several passages; and his prayer 
 was noble — most bold and stedfast — first for the slaves, and, to my comfort, 
 he found words for me, but with a faltering voice. Are they not more to 
 me than silver and gold ? I was relieved by tears ; he came and sat by 
 
 M 
 
76 FIRST OF AUGUST, 1834. 1834 8Bt. 26. 
 
 me on the sofa while a hymn was sung. I could hardly detain him, till 
 Edmund Buxton appeared, bringing in the salver. The inscription was 
 then read— 
 
 ‘ To THOMAS FOWELL BUXTON, Esq., M.P., 
 
 Presented by his Nephews and Nieces, 
 
 August 1, 1834, 
 
 With the humble, but earnest desire that they may be enabled 
 to act through life upon those high principles which have led him, with undaunted 
 resolution, to pursue the noble object, by the blessing of God this day 
 accomplished, in the 
 ABOLITION OF SLAVERY 
 
 THROUGHOUT THE BRITISH DOMINIONS.’ 
 
 ‘Tu ne cede malis sed contra audentior ito.’ 
 
 “You may imagine how the Latin at the end spoke to my heart! My 
 father was extremely overcome ; he burst into tears and threw' himself 
 hack. It was a most affecting and interesting sight for all. Soon 
 after this the children and youth all went into the garden and diorama. 
 I finished off one or two little matters, talked to one and another, and 
 came down to luncheon, flowering myrtle and pomegranate in my hair 
 The party, consisting of fifty-two, were all fittingly seated ; our five brides- 
 maids opposite us were as beautiful a sight as could be. Everyone w r as 
 speedily helped, champagne circulated, and, in process of time, Mr 
 Cunningham, in a very kind speech, proposed the health of Priscilla 
 Johnston. They would all get up, and after my husband’s thanks and 
 my father’s health, Mr. Cunningham, with his usual fertility, began a 
 rigmarole about the descent of the ‘ northern barbarians,’ ending with 
 ‘Mr. Johnston.’ He could say nothing. I said aloud, ‘I think I ought 
 to return thanks for the northern barbarian,’ which was received with great 
 applause. Some lines were then read by Anna Gurney, which excited the 
 astonishment of all. They proved to be Miss Hoare’s, and truly valuable 
 and interesting they are ; twice they were read, and a poem my father 
 had got, and then I read to the company Cowper’s ‘ Morning Dream.’ I 
 
1834. set. 26. first of august, 1834 . 77 
 
 quite liked it. Soon after, we moved, and I very quickly changed my 
 tilings and dressed in my dove-coloured silk, blue bonnet, white scarf and 
 veil. I did feel it excessively when I took leave of my precious mother 
 upstairs, with many tears. My father almost carried me downstairs, and 
 would scarcely let me speak to anyone. All the world was gathered at the 
 drawing-room door. I kissed the front row, and dearest aunt Sarah and 
 cousin Anna in the dining-room; and we were off! By degrees I cheered, 
 and we enjoyed the latter part of our drive, the evening being lovely. We 
 reached this delicious place about nine. The accommodation is charming — 
 three rooms in a row, overlooking the river. I am now writing in 
 the evening, and we so enjoy it that we fix to stay till Monday, when 
 we hope my mother will come and see us ! I cannot express the peace 
 and repose of this day, within and without ; but I am utterly tired now. 
 It has been one of the happiest of my life, I think. And now farewell, 
 my very dearest Catherine. 
 
 “ Your tenderly attached 
 
 “ Priscilla Johnston.” 
 
 London, August 2. 
 
 From E. N. Buxton. — “ My dearest Pris., — I must send you one line 
 to-day, just to give you my dearest love. I can hardly yet believe that 
 you are Mrs. Johnston ; hut I do most truly believe that no small blessing 
 will accompany that name, and not to you only, but to us all. I fancy 
 you enjoying the country and the river not a little. Our day yesterday 
 passed off wonderfully well. May every possible blessing he yours. 
 
 “ E. N. Buxton.” 
 
 The travellers left Henley after a few days, and went on, via 
 Oxford, to Derbyshire. 
 
 “ Matlock, August 13. 
 
 “ I am seated at a window overlooking a wonderful scene of rocks and 
 wood. The rest of this place is delightful. Altogether, how wonderfully 
 have I been blessed and helped ! I seem, to myself, to have been 1 lifted 
 along' from one scene to another with perfect tranquillity. I know how 
 
WEDDING JOURNEY. 
 
 1 834. set. 26 . 
 
 fruitful my nature is in pains and thorns ; but now it is as though down 
 were spread for me everywhere. I fear my letters will be sadly flat ; you 
 must expect nothing from me but effects and symptoms of dolce far niente." 
 
 “Halifax, Sunday night, August 17. 
 
 “ My dearest Father, 
 
 “ You would be edified to see us both busy writing ; but we absolve 
 ourselves in Sir A. Agnew’s words ; for my husband's letter is a work of 
 mercy, and mine (I make out) one of necessity. We have had a very happy 
 day in this disagreeable town, and heard an admirable sermon to-night 
 from an Independent — a good anti-slavery man, I know, by the look of him 
 — one of your abusers, I dare say. I continually wish, my dearest father, 
 that you could see how well I am, and much oftener long that you could 
 both look into my heart and see the repose there.” 
 
 Northrepps Cottage, Sunday, August 24. 
 
 From her aunt Sarah. — “ My beloved dears, — The sight of your hand- 
 writing is very affecting to me ; at present I can only meet it with tears, and 
 walk about the room to bear it, the wrench is so tender and close ; I could 
 think an aunt’s wound can never be healed ! But you are so truly kind, 
 that I really think my tears must only be those of thankfulness and love ! 
 Your parents have given me to-day your letters from Windermere, and 
 how I did feel what I read of your acknowledgment of thankfulness ! I 
 unite with you in feeling, strong as your expression is, that 3'ours has 
 been ‘a splendid entrance into married life,’ and that no pair that I ever 
 heard of ever sui-passed you, and that it becomes us to bless the Lord 
 and to be grateful. 
 
 “ But when I came to the unlooked-for mention of my own name — when 
 I read your hearty desire that our dear Chenda might be a blessing to her 
 mother and to us all, I was touched indeed ! Dear Andrew, you afresh 
 make me rejoice that you have the blessing of such a wife to live for ; and 
 your sympathy makes me feel that you know what it is to lose a treasure, 
 and you can be tender to an aunt in the loss of her own Priscilla. I have 
 
1 834. set. 26. 
 
 LETTER FROM S. M. B. 
 
 79 
 
 
 S 
 
 been to Cromer Church this morning (I thought your parents would rather 
 like the addition) and it was a missionary sermon. We got through it well, 
 striking as it was, because our darling is living and with you ! Chenda 
 behaves beautifully to us all under our dilemma, and, the other day, when 
 dressed in her bridesmaid’s honours, I longed for you to look upon her ; she 
 is behaving precisely like Priscilla’s sister : that is marvellous to me ! The 
 father, I fear, misses his secretary. In power and work, the child cannot 
 supply the companion of years ; and, in honest truth, I am more anxious for 
 him than even for my sister under this privation of selfish happiness. I 
 recollect observing to myself on the bridal morning, that I did not once hear 
 my brother sigh ; but such self-control will find its own vent and its own 
 way of telling its own tale ; and I think he is passing through the baptism 
 and the cloud attending such a change ! I do not write this to make either 
 of you low, but that you may know again and again how precious you are to 
 us, and that you may rejoice to return to us to make us happy when it is 
 best fitting that you should thus indulge us. Farewell. 
 
 “Your very affectionate aunt, 
 
 “ S. M. Boxton.” 
 
 “ A word more. I suppose I am nervous about your parents, and if 
 they move a finger I think it is in feeling about Priscilla ; but, to be sure, 
 they were so fidgetty at church ! and I was so stifled with the effort of 
 sitting with them, that I was obliged to take off my hat! Your mother 
 moved her seat four times, and your father, I thought, had the cramp. 
 The sermon was good, I thought ; but at its conclusion, Mr. Buxton re- 
 lieved some of my anxiety by informing us pretty loudly that he did not 
 like it, and that he was of course tired ; and when poor Mr. Tucker walked 
 in, plate in hand, he turned his back and gave nothing ; however, the rest 
 of the party were more liberal.” 
 
 J 
 
 
 At Glasgow they met Mrs. Fry, and went on together to 
 the West Highlands. 
 
AVEDDING JOURNEY. 
 
 80 
 
 1834. set 26. 
 
 “ Loch Awe, September^. 
 
 “ My dearest Mother, 
 
 “ Lo, here I am, transported, as if by magic, into the very heart of the 
 Highlands ! I wish you could see us in this far-away little inn, sitting with 
 two ladies, with whom we are obliged to share our sitting-room ; hut I feel 
 as much at home with my husband and aunt Fry as if I were at the Black 
 Boys, at Aylsham. We have had a wonderful day’s journey, starting at 
 seven o’clock from Glasgow, steaming down the Clyde with aunt Fry, which 
 we enjoyed extremely, delighting in the scenery, we telling her the whole 
 history of our wedding-day. Then up Loch Long we turned, and arrived at 
 Loch Goil head, a lovely spot, and proceeded in a queer sort of omnibus till 
 we suddenly came upon that inland sea, Loch Fyne. We had a most stormy 
 sail upon its waters, — 
 
 ‘ The billows high lifted the boat. 
 
 And the fresh blowing breeze never failed.’ 
 
 I looked anything but very Britannia-like, squatting in the bottom of the 
 boat, for I could neither stand nor sit on the side, but I enjoyed the spirit of 
 it thoroughly. I cannot say the lively entertainment to me — of real High- 
 lands, the bare-legged imps in kilts, chattering Gaelic, the gillies of a 
 lai’ger growth, the wretched cabins with the smoke coming out at the doors, 
 the oat cake, and the fish ! ” 
 
 Oban, September 6. 
 
 To the same. — “We are nicely settled here; it is indeed an exquisite 
 place. What a labyrinth of sea, and lochs, mountains, and, above all, Ben 
 Cruachan. We fare sumptuously on black game and fish. A chicken costs 
 threepence, and fish almost nothing. I think I never was happier, or so 
 happy ; being with dearest aunt Fry is a great pleasure. We had to-day 
 a lovely excursion to Dunstaffnage ; it was an equinoctial tide, and oh ! such 
 a shore of shells ! all kept exclaiming, aunt Fry included, at the beauty and 
 curiosity of them. It is a pain to me to go such a journey, so ignorant 
 of geology, botany, and mineralogy ; what fields of them have I passed with 
 eyes shut! 
 
1834. set. 26. arrival at rennyhill. 81 
 
 “On Friday we went to Laird Mac.Alister’s, (who had made friends 
 with aunt Fry, and invited her and her party to pay him a visit at his 
 place on Loch Awe) an enchanted spot we could hardly get at. First 
 we had to skirt the lake for miles, seeking in vain for a boat. At last 
 we reached a little deserted inn (for all the people had gone to harvest.) 
 
 I blew the fire, aunt Fry found a table, and, by vigorous exertions, we 
 soon found something to sustain life. In time, we heard that the Laird 
 was coming for us ; then followed such a Highland scene — he and his 
 Gaelic rowers. At the house they gave us a truly Scotch reception, in- 
 cluding the canonical accompaniment of hodge-podge, and sheep’s head 
 singed at the blacksmith’s. We fought a battle with them about their 
 beloved whiskey. They are a droll family, the mother a descendant of 
 Flora Macdonald. The next morning they sent us in their large boat 
 across. I can only wish I may never forget the lovely scene, especially 
 after we left them and had ascended the opposite hill — the glittering 
 lake, the mouth of the Awe, the many islands, and the boat with its 
 scarlet flags ! ” 
 
 Parting with Mrs. Fry, they continued their journey towards 
 Rennjdiill. On their arrival there she thus writes : — 
 
 Rennyhill, September 24. 
 
 To her Mother— Well, here I am settled, and quite entirely happy ; 
 I only wish you could peep at me this minute ! But I had better begin 
 in order. Very tremulous was I as we drew near, and through Anstruther 
 saw 1 nods and winks, and wreathed smiles,’ and bows and curtsies. At 
 last w r e arrived. First at the gate we saw Marr’s pleasant face, and then 
 Katherine Johnston, dressed in white, flew to meet us, and took us to 
 the Laird, who gave me a feeling reception. He is very old, but rather 
 a fine man, tall and stout. The house looked most comfortable, the 
 drawing-room bright with flowers. My room (next to the drawing-room) 
 looked as tempting as a room at Earlham or Northrepps could do. We 
 had a grand dinner, and the Laird came into the drawing-room to tea, 
 
82 
 
 RENNYHILL. 
 
 1834. set. 2G. 
 
 after which we descended, in form, to prayers : there was a great Bible laid 
 out, all the seats round, and we sang a paraphrase. You may he sure 
 I went to bed full of pleasure and thankfulness. I cannot stop to des- 
 cribe the ‘ doocot,’ the garden, the stables, the ducks, and the dairy. 
 After luncheon to-day, we three, and two dogs, went for a charming walk 
 — oh ! so delightful to see the blue sea again, and to be walking in 
 stubble fields and among turnips^ — a bright autumn day. The Isle of 
 May is a lovely object ; and turning one way, you see the Bass Rock and 
 the Firth, the other way, the open German Ocean and the steamers, which 
 you see to-morrow !” 
 
 “ September 25. 
 
 “My dearest Edward, 
 
 “ May I welcome you to England ? I think so very much of your 
 return that I must send off a line. I am indeed happy in this nest of 
 repose, my mind is so at rest and satisfied: I cannot enjoy it enough. 
 There is much about this place that reminds me of Cromer, though no 
 beauty whatever on land ; but the sea is charming, and, looking up the 
 Firth, is very fine. I live (internally) in a world of the closest and most 
 tender feeling about you all, and especially about my father. I cannot write 
 to him, and I hardly can read his letters. I see and feel how the meridian 
 sun is shining, and know so well its delights, that it is not without pain I 
 can hear of them, his reading poetry, and speaking so charmingly, writing 
 his own letters, riding, shooting, &c. ; and yet I have to acknowledge it is 
 best for me to he out of the stream of excitement, I always drank from 
 him. I never strive now ; I never lie awake, and do not talk much ; but 
 I am quite happy. I am thankful you are strong and well; it is one of 
 the blessings I above all others desire ; and often, I may say, it is my 
 heartfelt desire that you may ‘prosper and be in health, even as thy soul 
 prospereth.’ We read your letter of St. Bernard to the Bail'd, who was 
 quite aw'akened by it. I cannot get enough of ‘ divine silence,’ and still 
 diviner idleness. Meditating on all of jmu, often very happily, takes up 
 much of my time, thinking about the slaves, and on the wonderful history 
 of the past.” 
 
L 
 
LETTERS. 
 
 1834. set. 26. 
 
 83 
 
 September 26. 
 
 From E. N. Buxton, on his return from abroad.* — “ So here ends our 
 delightful tour ; aud how thankful we should be that we have all been 
 brought home in health and peace. I feel, I hope, sincerely desirous that 
 by God's mercy I may now recommence business with more desire to please 
 and live to Him. If He only gives me some measure of His grace, what 
 does the rest signify ? This is what I say ; though my general feeling is, 
 if He gives me the rest, what does His grace signify? However, I rejoice 
 in the thought that the work is His work, not ours, and we may therefore 
 hope and pray that He will not leave us nor forsake us in it. I have thought 
 very much of your settling at Rennyhill. Oh ! I do most earnestly hope 
 that the very choicest blessings may there rest upon you ; that you may 
 be blessed with health and peace ; and, above all, that much of God’s 
 presence may be round about you. I have no doubt you are now reaping 
 the benefit of the many earnest supplications you have offered up that 
 you might be rightly guided as to your settlement in life. I think it is a 
 remarkable instance of answer to prayer, and should encourage us all in 
 every difficulty always to pray and not to faint. 
 
 “ Most affectionately, 
 
 “E. N. Buxton.” 
 Rennyhill, Sept. 29. 
 
 P. J. to her aunt Mrs. C. Gurney. — “Here I am for the morning in 
 this pleasant drawing-room, with my large comfortable desk and little table, 
 &c. ; I sit by the fire very snugly. I do earnestly desire not to make thorns 
 in my nest, it is so peaceful, so resting. Yesterday was most interesting 
 to me ; we went twice to church. I am looked at and discussed enough 
 as you may imagine — I think pretty well approved. One of my Scotch 
 aunts likes me because I am ‘ so humble ! ’ * * * How I can fancy 
 
 your present seat, probably at your window at Earlham, and see that 
 paradise in the bright autumn sunshine. Altogether, places and people 
 are invested with a peculiar and new charm and interest; they soften in 
 
 * E. N. Buxton had been travelling abroad with J. G. Hoare and E. Hankinson. 
 
81 e. jst. b. 1831. set, 26 
 
 the distance, and everything but their perfection is lost. This is not, 
 however, to express any hankering. I was never nearly so happy in my 
 life, the calm waters here are so welcome and like a bed of rest to me.” 
 
 “ Kennyliill, Oct. 30. 
 
 “ My dearest Mother, 
 
 “ This is my day for writing to you, as on Wednesday I always 
 write to dearest Edward, with whom my correspondence is delightful. I 
 am daily and perpetually impressed with the unspeakable blessing w r e 
 have in him. His simple and practical religion, combined with his re- 
 markable natural graces and gifts, make him to me one of the most fault- 
 less and entirely beloved persons in the world. His letters are delightful, 
 and the tie and intimacy between us are among the greatest of my im- 
 mediate blessings. As for myself, it is long indeed since I have had 
 such a sense of the enjoyment of health and strength — not tired of a 
 night, not languid of a morning. The health granted us both gives the 
 zest to all our other blessings. The Laird scarcely ever leaves his room 
 now, and takes very little. He is wonderfully amiable and submissive, 
 reads nearly all day, but must have some one sitting with him, besides 
 the Cats and dogs. 
 
 “ To-day we expect Mrs. Opie and the Browns, of Largo, to dinner. 
 I shall make my husband be mistress ; for I am sure I can’t undertake to 
 regulate this Scotch household, with all its plans of porridge, oat cake, 
 broth, &c., which the servants seem to have allowances of, and I should 
 be lost among the mountains of napery.” 
 
 Bricklane, October 30. 
 
 From E. N. B. — “ My dearest Pris., — I have only time for a line to-day. 
 I have written so often lately that I think you must be quite tired of 
 my hand-writing. Many thanks for your very nice letter; I have been 
 looking forward to it and triumphing over Gurney, who expects in vain 
 any letters from his correspondents at Cromer. I am going on comfort- 
 ably, on the watch to grasp everything that may increase my power and 
 
 
1 834. set. 26. MRS. opie. 85 
 
 influence. There never was a tyrant more ambitious than I am ; I wish 
 to make myself so useful that they shall not be able to do without me. 
 
 I fully subscribe to the truth of the text, that ‘ man is born to trouble as 
 the sparks fly upward.’ I expect it for myself and all of us. My chief 
 desire respecting it is, that let it come how it may, it may work the 
 change and purification of heart which it is sent to produce. Many thanks 
 for Andrew’s nice note ; I hope to answer it before long. 
 
 “ Most affectionately, 
 
 “ E. N. Buxton.” 
 
 Hampstead, November 17. 
 
 From the same. — “ We enjoyed our large family party at dinner with 
 pea-soup, and cold beef, and cowslip wine, as a sort of afternoon night-cap 
 to sundry sleeping beauties. You can imagine the scene. I read a good 
 deal to aunt of the memoir of dear Sam in the afternoon ; it is indeed 
 highly interesting and instructive. I have thought much of this day four 
 years, and of the treasure we had then. What would it not have been to 
 me to have bad such a friend and brother as he would have been ! It 
 reminds me of the loss of a limb, the wound is indeed healed, but no 
 length of time can ever supply the place of the. member which is gone. 
 However, there is cause for nothing but thankfulness on his account, that 
 he should have been taken in his youth and beauty and spared the trials 
 and corruption of this world, and translated to the bosom of bis ever- 
 lasting Father. * * * * 
 
 November 19. 
 
 P. J. to her Mother. — “ On Tuesday we took Mrs. Opie to St. Andrew’s, 
 and then to dine and sleep at Largo. She made verses and sang them 
 as we went along. The next morning we went to see her off by tbe 
 steam-boat to Edinbro’. After luncheon at tbe manse we set forth, and 
 my husband said we would have our reading when we reached tbe top of 
 tbe brae, where I was to look at the view ; however, tbe top of tbe brae 
 we were never destined to reach, for tbe horses resolutely refused it, and, 
 after a great deal of struggling, they ended by landing one wheel in a 
 
VISITS. 
 
 80 
 
 J 834. get. 
 
 ditch, wherein also one horse lay down, and the carriage all but upset. 
 We were both out before this, but being fairly vanquished and having 
 lost the time, we were compelled to give up two of our distant visits and 
 go to see Lady Bethune. Then to Balcarras. Our visit there was no little 
 event — they are the leading people, tory exclusives, rich, — quite of a different 
 order to any of the others. Col. Lindsay said, ‘ send up Mrs Johnston’s 
 maid.’ ‘ Oh ! Col. Lindsay, I have no maid, and if I had, I could not have 
 brought her.’ ‘ Well, that is exactly what I like.’ I could not but give a 
 smile and a sigh at the contrast between the last time my white satin 
 was put on by you and an admiring crowd of girls, and this time just 
 fastened by a stupid maid, who did not know whether it was white or 
 black! Delighted I was to get back at twelve o’clock to this bright 
 drawing-room and eat roasted potatoes ! ” 
 
 26. 
 
 “ Rennyhill, 21st Nov. 
 
 “ My dearest Mother, 
 
 “ I am oppressed to-day by my husband having received letters which 
 look very lowering on an election. 
 
 “ The Radicals are all in the greatest excitement, and even Provost 
 Dalrymple, his firmest friend and every way a perfectly honest man, urges 
 him to pause before he stands again, saying the result is most doubtful, 
 and appearances not good. Dissenters against him ; and those, who in 
 a body lifted him in as Reformers, now split, and many of them gone 
 beyond him. 
 
 “ He means to go to St. Andrews and Cupar to-morrow, and then will 
 know more. 
 
 “ It would be most poor and fainthearted to shrink as yet, and we can 
 only assure ourselves that light will be given as it is required. 
 
 “ His undaunted faith and hope are indeed most delightful. It is with 
 him a matter of the most perfect conviction that, if for his good and that of 
 others, the way will be made to bring him in. But then he has not the 
 inward heartsinking which the idea of longer separation gives to me ; yet 
 certainly his natural courage, and far more the gifts of grace, do shine forth 
 
] 834. set. 26. 
 
 PROSPECT OF AN ELECTION. 
 
 87 
 
 in him conspicuously just now. May I partake of the same spirit, and learn 
 more fully to confide and to submit. 
 
 ‘ Resign, and all the load of life 
 That moment you remove. ’ 
 
 I am as assured that our going to you will not be denied me, without 
 a good reason for it, as that I am sitting here, and, therefore, must strive to 
 leave all to His disposal who sees the end from the beginning.” 
 
 November 26. 
 
 From E. N. B. — “ My dearest Pris., — Your letter to my mother which 
 arrived this morning certainly does not give a bright account of your 
 prospects, and I most truly feel for you the pain and trial of a contested 
 election; at the same time I have no doubt that you have taken too gloomy 
 a view of things. I cannot conceive that Mr. Johnston will have a doubt 
 about standing. I would not let such an idea enter my head. I think 
 we must all subscribe to help you both into Parliament, and I will most 
 gladly give £50 for my share. The greatest evil in prospect seems to be 
 the chance of your being detained, and I should think that there is con- 
 siderable doubt whether that will be necessary. My father is still at 
 Weymouth and getting on pretty well with his canvass, though he does 
 not seem too confident of his election as he did before he went down. 
 
 “ It would be a pretty joke if both our members were to be turned out ; 
 but I for one cannot see that it would be such a misfortune as some think. 
 I wish I could come and pay you a visit. If Mr. Johnston gives up, I think 
 of trying to come in as the Radical member for St. Andrews ! 
 
 “ Yours most affectionately, 
 
 “ E. N. Buxton." 
 
 December 17. 
 
 P. J. to her Mother. * * * “ Our chance is now quite gone of 
 being home for Christmas. There is the yearly Sacrament here on the 
 11th January; but really if the election is over, I must rebel, and get my 
 husband to leave the Kirk to its fate. We now live in the drawing-room ; 
 
QUIET LIFE. 
 
 88 
 
 1834. set. 26 
 
 I wish you could see how snug we are. I continue to draw; and in the 
 evenings treat myself with making, what Andrew calls, 1 the bonny wee 
 mutches.’ ” 
 
 “ December 25. 
 
 “ My dearest Father, 
 
 “ I am particularly grateful for the packet of letters received this 
 morning, all coloured by the good accounts of my dearest mother. Could I 
 have been seen going off to Northrepps church this morning as bright and 
 blooming (I must say it) as on my way to Pittenweem chapel, the measure 
 of my triumph and happiness would have been complete. My husband 
 goes away again to-morrow for several days, and to the small burghs next 
 week. I manage to be very happy while he is away, and have my fill of 
 ‘ Divine silence,’ broken only by the purring of the pussy, who is indeed my 
 truly congenial and persevering companion — 
 
 ‘ Stillness accompanied with sounds so soft 
 Charms more than silence.’ 
 
 I mean all this in sober seriousness and truth. I have plenty to do, and 
 am quite complacent when my schooling is duly accomplished by dinner 
 time — my task of Hume, drawing, writing, poetry, &c. I only sometimes 
 think how nicely I might have written your life this season ! ” 
 
 December 26. 
 
 To her aunt Mrs. C. Gurney. — “ We go on most smoothly, and daily I 
 delight in the rest, leisure, quiet, sedentary, industrious, regular employ- 
 ments. I am interested in my humdrum occupations. My only cross is 
 my husband’s frequent absence. When he is at home we always sit together, 
 and after our readings in the bible, we take uncle Joseph’s Essays ; then a 
 walk. He sits writing, or over his business, while I quietly read, write, or 
 draw at my little table by the sofa, learning a little poetry the wdrile till 
 nearly six o’clock. I often think how changed my vocation is, but it is 
 indeed thus far a most luxurious change. I only trust I may not be unfitted 
 for activity ; but I now hate any bustle or hurry, and I think I should be 
 
1834 set. 26. 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 89 
 
 quite discomposed to sit down to dinner with so large a party as four ! I 
 have felt with new force some of the foundations of our hope and comfort ; 
 and my husband’s living and practical faith, applied to everything, is a fine 
 example for me. I trust to learn something of it, also the power of prayer. 
 When he is away especially, it seems to be my best occupation to keep in a 
 waiting humble spirit; and when he is engaged in delicate transactions 
 or any difficulty, I want to be like Moses on the mount ‘ with arms spread 
 wide.’ ” 
 
 Rennyliill, 7th January. 
 
 To T. Fowell Buxton, jun. — “ My dearest Fowell, — I always intended 
 addressing next letter to you, in answer to your very acceptable ones. 
 
 “ I was much interested in dear Charley's shooting the woodcock, and 
 in all your feats : how indulged you are to be sure ! What innumerable 
 advantages and favors you have ; you ought to be fine flourishing plants 
 considering the genial soil you are placed in. I expect to find you both 
 grown and every way advanced a stage on since I saw you, in mind, in 
 manners, in conversation ; and how I do hope, my dearest brothers, that 
 you are growing in a resolution to be Christians, choosing the good and 
 happy path of firm determination, and beginning even now to exercise these 
 principles when you are with other boys, and in the many little opportunities 
 which constantly arise as well as in the daily duties of private religion. 
 I may say I pray for you every day, nor does Andrew ever forget to mention 
 you. You can keep all this private ; and now for ourselves. 
 
 “ The day of nomination is fixed for Tuesday the 13th ; poll, Thursday 
 and Friday; and return, Monday 19th. But there may be no poll, so make 
 yourselves and the fatted calf ready on or any day after the 23rd, because I 
 think we may be very likely amongst you that day. The idea of your even 
 thinking of coming down has quite haunted me; what a joy it -would have 
 been ! It would not have put me out of my wits, except with pleasure ; 
 however, I trust the same and far greater pleasure will be tasted at 
 Northrepps, and I fear you would have found me and my old pussy very 
 dull company. There we sit, day after day, always on the same spot ; she 
 
90 
 
 JOURNAL. 
 
 1834. set. 2t. 
 
 tabes possession of the easy chair, and I of the sofa, and so we settle, the 
 door perhaps not being opened from breakfast to luncheon time. I long to 
 hear much about Lowestoft, and whether you find it answers papa’s invari- 
 able quotations about Pakefield.* 
 
 ‘ I have been, there and still would go. 
 
 For ’tis a little Heaven below. ’ ” 
 
 Devonshire Street, Sunday, May 3. — It is almost too much 
 of an effort to re-open my journal hook, and yet I cannot help 
 it ; but I must, as with too interesting a friend, keep as much 
 as I can on the surface and not attempt to unfold the volumes 
 
 that have been, and are in my mind. I wrote last on the eve 
 
 of my wedding-day. * * * Now, I feel the events of life too 
 
 big for my grasp, and being unable to cope with them, I can 
 only desire to lie still and passive in the hands of my Maker, 
 and commit myself unboundedly to Him. May I but be His, 
 
 whether for life or for death ! Grace ! grace ! that is what I 
 
 need, and faith and patience — faith more especially just now, 
 when everything to us is so singularly on the balances, that 
 it seems hardly possible there should be disentanglement: It 
 
 is well to record such a point in one’s life. Here we are, 
 just as it were where roads meet — Parliament in the greatest 
 doubt ; a business pending for my husband ; his father’s life in 
 the most critical state ; and my confinement. These four great 
 questions and events, all as it were hanging over us, we had need 
 truly of a pilot, an all-wise, all-attentive guide. Oh ! as we 
 
 Where uncle and aunt Cunningham lived before moving to Lowestoft. 
 
1835. set. 27. birth of her eldest son. 91 
 
 have such an One, may we indeed resign ourselves into His 
 hands, keep looking perpetually to Him, and holding fast by 
 His hand ! The strong faith of my precious husband is my 
 greatest comfort ; and my noble father’s exertions, talent, and 
 judgment, our greatest earthly help. 
 
 Her first child, Andrew, was bom on the morning of the 
 23rd of May. A fortnight after, she thus writes to her aunt 
 Sarah : — 
 
 “ June 7. 
 
 “ My beloved Aunt, 
 
 “ My step to-day shall be taking in hand a pen ; and to whom, of 
 course, do I turn ? I am almost afraid to trust myself. This is the most 
 delicious time of rest — mind and bod} 7 are in perfect comfort. The sense of 
 pleasure quickened almost too much, life looks so smiling, and truly “ my cup 
 overflows.” My darling is a fortnight old . I do delight in him in dearest 
 Anna’s caps ! My heart follows you ; and the bright accounts of you are like 
 a nosegay of flowers to me. * * * 
 
 “ Your most dearly affectionate, 
 
 “ P. Johnston.” 
 
 * * * “ One word about my father. The engrossing subject of his 
 
 thoughts is, Tuesday nest. Part of the great undertaking will be to move 
 for a committee to inquire into the conduct of the Planters. * * * His 
 speech is most difficult and anxious; but he seems in the happiest state, 
 bright, and smiling, and communicative. He rejoices in the hope of making 
 the West Indians quake to their inmost hearts on Tuesday.” 
 
 When able to move she went to Hampstead, and there, on 
 June 21, Andrew Johnston, junior, was baptized by Dr. Chalmers. 
 She continued however very weak, and fever coming on, her 
 
92 LETTER FROM T. F. B. 1835. set. 27. 
 
 strength was still further reduced. About the middle of July 
 she was taken to Herne Bay, but there grew worse ; and on the 
 auspicious first of August, she seemed to stand at the very gates 
 of death. Her parents, Mrs. S. Hoare, her brother Edward, and 
 several others, gathered around her, and remained with her in 
 turn. The following letter from her father to the Cottage ladies, 
 thus describes her state : — 
 
 “ Herne Bay, August 2 . 
 
 “ My dear Sisters, 
 
 “ I have been ordered to write to you to-day, and I am very glad to do 
 so, for I am afraid you may have missed some of the late letters. My wife 
 sent me word that I must come down on Friday, so I started by mail that 
 night. When I arrived, my wife soon came to me, in the very depths of 
 distress, and gave a very poor account of our dear patient. I saw her soon 
 after ; she had then a good deal revived, and was the better for seeing me. 
 Though she was yellow, I took a more favourable impression of her than I 
 expected. I found her perfectly calm and at peace ; there seemed none of 
 the nervous excitement left. She intimated, as usual, her belief that she 
 should not recover; and expressed what a struggle she had had to pass 
 through before she could consent to give up things so dear to her; but she 
 intimated that she had attained that victory, and that within peace abounded. 
 She was then in bed ; she got up soon after, and seemed nicely. I read 
 the article on cookery in the last quarterly, and she was much amused and 
 laughed often. She sent me away about nine o’clock, in order that she might 
 go to bed. I then took a walk for an hour and a half on the pier, which 
 goes out two-thirds of a mile into the sea; on my return, I found a message 
 from her that she felt ‘ much better ’ ; and even Hannah sent word that she 
 was better than she had been all day. So we all went to bed. Between 
 twelve and one o’clock I heard a ringing at our bell, bustled out of bed and 
 ran down stairs ; in came a maid from their house (for, be it known, we have 
 two houses), and a colloquy took place between her and me, I having on my 
 
1835. jet. 27. 
 
 ILLNESS AT HERNE BAY. 
 
 93 
 
 night garment. My wife had sent for Andrew, as P. could not sleep, 
 and was, or rather felt, sick, w'hich is the point we chiefly dread. So after 
 wandering into most of the rooms, I found Andrew and hurried him away. 
 Now, I must pause a moment to glorify myself. I, always accused of being 
 ‘ a dead sleeper,’ ‘a log of wood,’ I alone heard the bell ; and had I not been 
 so very vigilant and clever, we should never have heard the maid or sent 
 them any assistance. Andrew read to her till near four o’clock, ■when she 
 went to sleep, and contrived to pick up a tolerable night without actual 
 sickness. She was low this morning, but is now on the sofa and better, 
 though very yellow. I have been spending more than an hour with her — 
 her conversation quite charming — she particularly dwelt on redemption 
 through Christ. ‘ Oh ! what a comfort, what an unutterable mercy. It is 
 like a garment — this love of God in Christ — it wraps round us and fences 
 us from all the weather, — pain, sickness, spiritual stupidity, — all very bear- 
 able while we know that we are under the shelter of that cloak. It is a 
 bridge : on it we can walk by it across the gulf ; it is quite a meal ! All 
 the rest is nothing to me, as compared with redemption through Christ; 
 there is no comfort in Scripture like it.’ I read her some passages bearing 
 on the point; she said they were delightful to her. We then read the 21st 
 and 22nd Revelations. It was delightful to see the expression of pleasure 
 which passed across her countenance, though her eyes were shut, when I 
 read any verse which described heaven (4, 6, 7, 24, to end of 21st chapter) ; 
 when we came to the 4th verse, 22nd chapter — ‘ And they shall see His 
 face,’ she quite burst forth — 1 What a wonder, what a glory ! ’ ‘ Is it not 
 
 strange that we should be so loth to leave this world? we are only going, 
 as it were, at different hours and in different carriages ; but the same 
 journey. It is not separation.’ She then asked for the 7th chapter of 
 Revelations, from the 9th verse to the end, and again spoke much about 
 the 14th. We adverted to the blessings on those who have come out of 
 great tribulation. After listening for some time, she said, that is not the 
 part which touches me so much as the words — ‘ Washed their robes white 
 in the blood of the Lamb.’ She then said: ‘Now, I want the latter part 
 of the 7th Romans, from the 15th — that exactly describes me ; it is just 
 
RECOVERY. 
 
 94 
 
 1835. aet. 27. 
 
 what I am. Observe the last verse. The apostle would not take the trouble 
 of going through the argument ; he springs to the conclusion. I thank 
 God through Jesus Christ : there is now no condemnation.’ She dwelt a 
 good deal on the 18th verse of the 8th chapter. After some passages from 
 the Ephesians on the same subject — the love of God and the redemption 
 through Christ — I said I must now go and write to the cottagers : do you 
 send your love ? ‘ Yes, yes ; love, lots of love ! ’ The whole conversation was 
 cheerful, though it was manifest that her mind was dwelling on the prospect 
 of eternity. My poor wife at last stretched herself on some chairs aud went 
 fast asleep, as well she might, for she has had very little rest the two last 
 nights; she does not undress. I must now tell you that I do expect to see 
 dear Pris. recover: that is my confident expectation. I must just, while 
 dinner is coming on, advert to another part of her conversation : ‘ Oh ! the 
 love of God ; it exceeds the love of parents ! He, loving us so well, could 
 cure by a single word ; but He will not : that proves that it is best for 
 me to be sick.’ Not time for another word. 
 
 “Yours ever affectionately, 
 
 “T. F. Buxton.” 
 
 At length there was some amendment; and one by one, her 
 “beloved nurses” left her. 
 
 The next entry in her journal is as follows : — 
 
 Herne Bay, Sept. 6. — Here I am, again able to be left a 
 Sunday morning alone ! able a little to commune with myself and 
 to put down some of my thoughts. What a period have I passed 
 since I last wrote ! what a valley of trial and suffering have I gone 
 through — surely something of the valley of the very shadow of 
 death ! I will not try to retrace it. I am now brought up again, 
 and though in great weakness, am, I trust, treading the upward 
 path of recovery. We are comfortably settled at this nice place 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 1835. aet. 27. 
 
 95 
 
 with our precious little one. We are thankful to be left together, 
 and to have been able to part in peace and hope with our most 
 beloved ones, who have indeed been friends and benefactors un- 
 speakable to us in this season of deep mutual sorrow, anxiety, 
 and expense. Our schemes and wishes have certainly been crossed 
 and thwarted in no common degree ; but we have been, notwith- 
 standing, crowned with blessings, and in the school of affliction 
 taught some lessons which may we never forget ! Oh ! my God, 
 the petition of my heart is, that Thou wouldst now and for ever 
 lead us in the path wherein we ought to walk — that Thou 
 wouldst gift us with Thy grace (that which can indeed make 
 us perfect and thoroughly furnish to us all good works) — that 
 Thou wouldst supply me with patience, faith, calmness, and quiet- 
 ness of spirit, and tenderly bless our child — and oh ! that Thou 
 wouldst take upon Thyself to pay our debts. Oh ! my Lord, 
 repay to my precious parents, my dearest friend,* my beloved 
 dearest aunts, and several others, brother and sister, all their 
 unwearied labours of love towards me, by those blessings which 
 ai’e indeed better than gold or silver. A look from Thee can 
 indeed refresh, comfort, and cheer them ; oh ! Lord, give it 
 speedily and continually, for the sake of Him in whom we trust 
 — our only Saviour. 
 
 September 11, 1835. 
 
 From E. N. B. — “ My dearest Pris. * * * I went yesterday morning 
 to the Refuge for two hours and a half. I first lectured the boys who had 
 
 * Lady Parry, then Mrs. S. Hoare. 
 
96 RETURN TO LONDON. J835. set. 27. 
 
 lately been admitted, and placed the theory of picking, pockets before them 
 in such a light that their hands shot out of their own pockets with a con- 
 vulsive start. I then formed myself into a committee, and, having unani- 
 mously called myself to the chair, I saw a number of applicants; to one 
 I ordered a shilling, and gave him a strict charge that, as he had only been 
 two days without anything, he was not to squander any of this in victuals, 
 but to consider it as capital to commence business as a fruiterer, that being 
 the profession to which he declared himself most partial. I then moved and 
 seconded that the thanks of the meeting should be given to the chairman 
 for his conduct in the chair ; and, having returned thanks for the honour 
 done me, I broke up the meeting and quietly dispersed. Joking apart, 
 however, I was very much interested indeed by the affecting cases that came 
 before me.” 
 
 The latter part of the autumn, and the following winter and 
 spring was spent in and near London. The following extract 
 from her journal is dated ; — 
 
 Hampstead, Jan. 29. — “My people shall dwell in a peaceable 
 habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting places 
 “ and there the glorious Lord will be unto us a place of broad 
 rivers and streams.” How liome to my heart do these promises 
 speak, yet how little, how very very little, do I really know of 
 their power. What is it wrong and erroneous in my system that 
 I taste so little of this blessed tranquillity, so little of the joy of 
 the green pastures and the still waters ? It is the Christian’s 
 inheritance and purchased possession, why then do I taste it 
 not ? These things are promised, they are ours, sooner or later 
 we shall know them to the very very full. Oh ! what a most 
 blessed and glorious and delightful hope. In the meantime I 
 
1835. set. 27. 
 
 LETTER FROM S. M. B. 
 
 97 
 
 do so ardently desire a little foretaste, a little of the calming, quiet- 
 ing, peaceful influence shed into my soul and over my spirits. 
 
 Northrepps Cottage, February 18. 
 
 From her aunt Sarah. — “ My dearest Niece, — “ In this storm I will write 
 to you. Perhaps a gale without may sober down the hurricane of my 
 impetuous feelings within, and I may be able, under the bustle of the 
 morning, to slide in easily a letter to you. I reproach myself for my 
 silence ; but the continual loss I feel I sustain in your absence makes me 
 often pine like a dove and sit solitary ; and your marriage, though the 
 one thing most to be desired for you, has more than anything taken off 
 the gilding of my life for me ; I miss you so very much. I sometimes 
 think more than any creature can but your father. 
 
 “ The wind is blustering at our windows ; the boughs, and even the stems 
 of the trees rocking to and fro. Wamba asleep on the chair ; one puss on 
 one sofa, and Spot on the other ; a primrose in the warmer window, and 
 one little stand of glasses for hyacinths in another ; but the green buds 
 scarcely show themselves yet. I had no desire for January’s blossoms, since 
 my flower was not here to admire them. 
 
 “ My eyes are towards the cliff, and I write to you by snatches. I run 
 to the kitchen to make sure that we have hot water, soup, and fires. We 
 have had no reading as a family, and scarcely any sleep from anxiety; and 
 before six we heard that a crew of nine men had left their sinking vessel and 
 in their little boat had reached the shore, Cromer, in safety. Soon after 
 seven Anna started in her pony chair, with Hannah Roper and William ; 
 she returned alone half an hour since, a little hoy only following her ; she 
 looked distressed, but could not wait, or I face the wind at our porch. 
 Stephen jumped in to return with her and her little hand-gun, with its lines, 
 &c. I made another messenger scamper to the Hall, and very shortly the 
 “ chief of ten thousand” on John Bull, with coat flaps flying, galloped by. I 
 can only gather that there is another vessel off Cromer in peril striving to 
 come in. Oh ! may the lives be spared ; but I am rather dumb with 
 apprehensions. 
 
98 the laird’s death. 1835. set. 27-8. 
 
 “Another report — (I hope only a report) — the vessel has struck; and, 
 with glasses from our cliff some poor creatures were seen get into their 
 boat and they were lost! and our watchers say they can see some still on 
 the vessel; and at this moment I conclude your father has joined Anna, 
 and that they are labouring to save them ! 
 
 “ Anna now home — sullen with cold and pain ; she is taking off her 
 things, and I shall hear more when she can bear it : you know how her 
 heart writhes under the torture of a calamity — hope quenched and five 
 lives lost before her eyes.” 
 
 Northrepps Cottage, February 24. 
 
 From the same. — “ I wish, dear Priscilla, you could have heard your 
 name mentioned in this room yesterday morning. Your father and Anna 
 over the Caffre case, Aborigines, Australasia, &c.; and at each close of a 
 section they appeared to me simultaneously to pronounce your name, and 
 at least that was music to my ears ; and I do not fear the work for you — I 
 mean not of this portion of your office — for Anna’s portfolio cases are like 
 lessons marked out for you to learn ; and I know it will be a saving of 
 trouble to you to have your work collected for you, and you may lie on the 
 sofa and digest it.” 
 
 Devonshire Street, March 13. — By the post on Monday we 
 heard of the quiet close of our dear father’s life at Rennyhill. 
 He departed in love and peace on Friday morning, the 19tli 
 February, nearly 83 years of age, and oh ! may it have been to 
 peace and joy everlasting. There was such a spirit of patience, 
 gentleness, and thankfulness given to him, as to make us very 
 thankful. My dearest went off by the coach at once, and I went 
 to Hampstead. Andrew arrived on the Friday at Rennyhill ; 
 the funeral was the nest day. About fifty Mends and neighbours 
 were assembled, and he, as he expresses it, laid his father’s head 
 
1836. jet. 28. rennyhill. 99 
 
 in the dust with a solemn comfort. Scotch funerals are most 
 cheerless to be sure : they had a short prayer before they left the 
 house, and then in silence carried the coffin, lowered it into the 
 grave, stood by while it was filled up, the turf replaced, and 
 then in silence departed. He most expeditiously finished off his 
 necessary arrangements, left Rennyhill with his two sisters on 
 Wednesday, and reached us in safety on Friday night, a most 
 joyful arrival. In this event of his father’s death, though 
 there is little personal loss to feel, the whole thing has borne 
 an uncommon tinge of melancholy. The closing of that once 
 well-filled house ; breaking up the establishment ; the dispersion 
 of all ; the venerable head laid in the ground ; the place left 
 desolate, and all gone. Then to us there is certainly much to 
 feel in the necessity of giving up the place, of leaving the spot 
 
 where his natural influence and weight lies. What a blessing 
 
 for me that my dearest is so resolved, so stedfast in faith and 
 submission. He is sure things will all be ordered for the best, 
 anxiety is really kept away ; and then how thankful we may be 
 for the home provided for us here, which has been so prosperous 
 this year. How can I be grateful enough ? But now I must 
 turn to myself. My bairn and I went to Hampstead. The 
 next day we heard the dear Northrepps party were actually 
 coming soon. Thursday we came back to meet them, and at 
 night they arrived. We met upon the extreme interest and 
 delight of our dearest Edward’s engagement, which that very 
 
 week had brought us. We could uot have received a more 
 
100 DEVONSHIRE STREET. 1836. «;t. 28. 
 
 precious member into our family than Catherine Gurney. On 
 Saturday, 5th March, we all went to pay our first visit at 
 Upton. It was the day on which I knew my husband was 
 engaged in the solemn business of his father’s funeral, and I put 
 on my deep mourning. It was an odd contrast, and the whole 
 day was too exciting to be precisely pleasant, but Kitty was 
 lovely. * * * My husband is again settled in, as my father’s 
 
 secretary, and, in short, our abode here has thus far been un- 
 commonly prospered. There has been on both sides, I believe, a 
 genuine preference of it. Our darling baby is a delight to his 
 grand- parents, and in every way I have had the amazing comfort 
 of feeling our being here the best thing for us and for them, but 
 there is in me a sort of false humility which I cannot describe ; 
 a sense of everything being too good for me, everybody so far 
 too kind, of being always in debt and never able to pay. Trying 
 the other day to describe it to my husband, he, instead of 
 soothing it with ineffectual contradictions, took me seriously to 
 task for breaking the command, “ Be content with such things 
 as ye have.” I felt this most true. I am sure the root of the 
 thing is in vanity, not in humility ; and, as he said, a truly 
 humble and truly contented spirit would be the cure. May 
 the light of the promised land shine brighter and brighter 
 upon me as 1 draw nearer to it, and the unspeakable glorious 
 prospect of bearing the image of the heavenly, as I now bear 
 that of the earthy, be ever present with me. We spent last 
 Sunday at Hampstead ; going up to hear dear E. Hoare preach 
 
836. aet. 28. 
 
 LETTER TO E. N. B. 
 
 101 
 
 The bright beginning of his ministry has been one of our great 
 interests. 
 
 April 5 
 
 To her brother Edward, a week before his marriage. — * * * “ May 
 
 this week that remains be permitted to be truly satisfactory to you both, 
 in winding up your single life ! There is much to be done in this way 
 both inwardly and outwardly ; many things to remember, acknowledge, and 
 close. I have found the journal I wrote the last week before I was married 
 most valuable and interesting. You do so start for a new life ! You have 
 such an opportunity of taking hold of things by new handles as it were, 
 and improving your habits, standard, and standing by past experience, that 
 it is a very pleasant thing to take a full and satisfactory farewell of single 
 life. 
 
 “ The reason of the exquisite and indescribable feelings of pleasure and 
 freedom of early married life is, that you have taken flight and left the old 
 coats behind, cleared away from all that may have gathered about you, and 
 start quite fresh with the person you like and love best in the world, one in 
 interest, and perfectly united in affection, ready to stir one another up, to 
 smooth the rough and enliven the flat. I do earnestly desire, my beloved 
 E. & C., that you may taste the full exhilaration as well as all the solid 
 happiness of this unique period of one’s life." 
 
 April 6. 
 
 From E. N. B — “My dearest Pris., — Your letter yesterday was most 
 delightful ; I had been hoping that I might receive such a one from you. 
 I hope Catherine will write to-day. I rejoice in the thought of meeting you on 
 Saturday, that we may have one more pleasant Sunday together. I fear that 
 it will be hardly possible for you to see Catherine before Tuesday. I have 
 been staying at Upton since Monday, and have enjoyed it extremely. 
 
 “ I was at meeting this morning, and was very glad of the opportunity. I 
 feel as if I could not grasp all the deep interests which crowd in at this time. 
 We are indeed embarking, as it were, on a new and untried sea, and though 
 nothing can be more satisfactory or more delightful than the prospect, yet it 
 
102 E. N. B.’s ANSWER. 1836. set. 28. 
 
 is no light matter to give up one sort of life and to commence another. I do 
 most earnestly hope that a very special blessing from above may rest upon 
 us, that we may start afresh in our heavenly course with a full determination 
 that, with the assistance of our Father in heaven, we will devote ourselves, 
 altogether, soul and body, to His service. I can sometimes feel that if I 
 might only profess some abiding joy in believing I should want nothing else 
 either for this life or for the next ; this, however, is not the habitual feeling 
 of my mind. In general this state of mind is too good a one for me. I say 
 this because I know the earnestness and efficacy of your prayers for me; and 
 I wish that you should pray that the Lord will lift up the light of His counte- 
 nance upon me, more than for any other blessing. 0 that I had but faith to 
 see that our Lord’s strength is made perfect even in such weakness as mine 
 is. I had no intention of writing in this way when I began my note, but 
 these feelings are beyond any thing human. I have at the same time a great 
 view and great pleasure in the abundant mercies with which I am surrounded. 
 I know that God has given me every blessing in the world, and I only further 
 want a thankful heart. Our presents are most beautiful, and a real source 
 of pleasure to us. Rachel is steward and has Is. per week wages. Uncle 
 and Aunt Gurney are very cheery, and I believe enjoy the occupation of 
 preparing for a wedding in the family. The boys are coming up to day. 
 which is a real pleasure. 
 
 “ Yours ever most affectionately, 
 
 “ Edwakd N. Buxton.” 
 
 Sunday, the 10th, was a memorable day. After luncheon, 
 we contrived all to assemble to read the account of our parents’ 
 wedding in dear aunt Rachel’s journal.* My father then read 
 
 * An extract from the account referred to is as follows: — “May 13, 1807, was 
 the wedding-day at Earlham. The weather mild and summer-like. Hannah composed 
 and cheerful. Many collected, as usual, to read before breakfast and after it. We 
 dispersed till it was time to equip ourselves in bridal array. The house was overrun 
 with bridesmaids in white muslin cloaks and chip hats, dear Betsy (Mrs. Fry) at the 
 
] 836. yet. 28. E. N. B.’s marriage. 103 
 
 Proverbs iii and some other passages, and prayed most heartily 
 and fully for Edward and Catherine, her parents, and our dearest 
 mother, she herself expressed some of her most overflowing tender- 
 ness for Edward. There was in my heart, prayer in abundance, 
 a desire to relieve it in words, yet an extreme shunning ; but, 
 when the time came, my father was so extremely before me that 
 it could not be restrained ; I poured forth my heart for him. I 
 had dwelt very much on him of late, Good Friday being his 
 fiftieth birthday, and everything about him, his labours and toils, 
 his private nobleness, and his public importance, calling for our 
 closest interests and desires on his behalf. I was sheltered by 
 my husband following me, chiefly in thanksgiving. 
 
 Tuesday, 12th.— Edward and Catherine were married. After 
 reading and breakfast, as usual, we all adorned in our wedding 
 trim. My dearest mother and Chenda looked most lovely ; so did 
 our bridegroom. To Trinity Church we went : how odd it was to 
 me. Instead, however, of entering in due state and doing our 
 business as on the 1st of August, there was no bride ! and we 
 
 head of them. We led our sweet bride to the stairs, where our gentlemen joined 
 us ; and we had a pleasant drive to Thisborough meeting. When there, the large 
 circle of brothers and sisters was most striking. The dear couple spoke very feelingly, 
 and Fowell with his usual dignity. * * * At dinner the bride was only dis- 
 
 tinguished from her maidens by one beautiful rose ; she had a lovely colour and was 
 very cheerful. My father’s fifteen children were all there. The company cleared off 
 in good time ; but not before we had spent a delightful evening' in full assembly. It 
 was really charming to have such a party, with Fowell and Hannah at the head of 
 it ! He was most affectionate and sweet to us all ; I think there scarcely ever was 
 such a brother admitted into a family !” 
 
104 E. N. B. S MARRIAGE 1836. Sdt. 28. 
 
 shivered, and daudled, and wondered, and shivered, for three- 
 quarters of an hour ; she, in the meantime, poor dear, with Sarah, 
 Sam, and Mrs. Gurney,* was enjoying the same comfort in Maryle- 
 bone Church ! We grew very nervous. Several of the gentlemen set 
 off in search of them. About half-past eleven they appeared, our 
 blushing, blooming bride most lovely. There was a little agitation 
 and confusion, but the moment the deep sounds of E. Hoare’s voice 
 were heard, perfect order and solemnity were restored, and the 
 service was all we could wish. Nothing, I think, could exceed 
 the interest and beauty of the group of the three cousins, all 
 nearly of an age. Edward and Catherine hurried off to Upton, 
 and we followed, I with my dearest parents. At two w T e had 
 a most elegant entertainment, after which a reading and prayer 
 from E. Hoare, with a sermon and prayer from aunt Fry. Some 
 of her sentences were most striking, one I did intend not to 
 lose, it was to this effect, expressing the desire that the}" might 
 choose the service of God, — “ I can testify to it ; I have known 
 it in measure, in heights, and in depths. I can say that in 
 depths and in heights, in riches and in poverty, in health and 
 in sickness, it is a most blessed service, and that, in so far as 
 we know it, we know peace.” Our dearest Edward is enriched 
 witli a treasure indeed, and so are we all. May blessings be 
 unsparingly heaped on them. 
 
 A letter from Mrs. Opie, dated April 27, soon after E. N. 
 Buxton’s wedding, contains the following : — 
 
 * Mrs. Hudson Gurney. 
 
1836. set. 28. journal. 105 
 
 “ Many thanks, my dearest Priscilla, for letting me see thy descriptive 
 letter. The delight of all to me is what is not contained in that letter- 
 namely, an account of the success of the waistcoat of the M.P. for Weymouth ! 
 Of that waistcoat I beg leave to give you all joy ! and of his noble, grand, and 
 beautiful looks while wearing it ; he, as I suspect, secretly bending his head 
 and casting a loving glance upon its shining folds! Elizabeth Wilkinson 
 says it was of lilac satin, with purple flowers, edged with gold ! ” 
 
 Devonshire Street, Sunday, May 22. — Staying at home alone. 
 How much there is to transact, as it were, in one's mind. In 
 our very busy life, how short is the day of rest, I am ready to 
 say,- how insufficient ! but what should we be without it ? I 
 have never, I think, felt the absolute necessity and unspeakable 
 advantage of the Sabbath so much as lately. The three weeks 
 since I last wrote have been spent chiefly in the same busy round 
 of occupations ; the committees our men’s daily work ; our house 
 very full with uncle and aunt Cunningham and their followers. 
 Our greatest personal interest has been the arrangements about 
 dear Kennyhill. We are earnest in the hope of getting down 
 there this autumn, anxiously desiring to finish off there to some 
 satisfaction, both as to ourselves and others. Our plan has been 
 to indulge ourselves in a short Highland journey, as we earnestly 
 hope, with Chenda and our brothers, and then to spend three 
 months at Rennyhill ; and this we trust to execute. I wish to 
 make our temporal concerns, still so very much on the balances, 
 a subject of constant remembrance before God. We do not the 
 least foresee our future ; but my dearest husband’s trusting spirit 
 is like a pillow for my head. 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 106 
 
 1836. set. 28. 
 
 Wednesday, July 6. — Well, here I am, with my list of memo- 
 randums all scratched out but one or two, our nine months’ 
 sojourn in this dear home brought within an hour or two of its 
 close. I must part with my book, so a word of farewell. I am 
 above all impressed with the mercies which have so remarkably 
 attended us here. How have my peculiar desires been granted, 
 my fears disappointed, and all things smoothed and prospered 
 beyond my hopes ! How can I be thankful enough for the well- 
 working of my dearest husband’s secretariship, for the pleasure 
 my darling child has given to them all, and for my mother’s 
 general and tolei’able ease about my health ? Our abiding with 
 them has altogether answered most completely ; and I fully trust 
 another spring will find us in like manner favoured. Now, we 
 are off for Norfolk, the Highlands, and Rennyhill ; oh ! may the 
 same kind blessing go along with us there, enabling us for all 
 duties, supporting us in all trials. I am most thankful to be, on 
 the whole, in very good heart, leaving my dearest mother nicely, 
 and the way opening before us. 
 
 Edinburgh, Sunday, July 17. — We are brought here in safety, 
 our dear party all flourishing. To Earlham I travelled on the 
 7th, my husband joining me there two days after ; most deeply 
 interesting was our visit ; I never did see anything certainly like 
 that place and its inhabitants. Being joined by our dear brothers, 
 we went on Wednesday the 13th to Yarmouth by a steam- 
 barge, then to Lowestoft, where we had a bright but short visit ; 
 Chenda, with Sarah and Edmund Gurney, joined us, and we 
 
SCOTLAND. 
 
 1836. set. 28. 
 
 107 
 
 successfully got on board the “Monarch” about eleven on Thurs- 
 day. Till we passed Cromer, we much enjoyed ourselves, after 
 that we Buxtons were very bad till evening. Next day we 
 were quite well, and very pleasant was our sail along the coast of 
 Northumberland and the Frith. We arrived on Scottish ground 
 about six, and have enjoyed making acquaintance with this most 
 interesting and charming place. 
 
 After a delightful journey they parted with their travelling- 
 companions and reached Rennyhill on the 31st of August. 
 
 “ Rennyhill, August 31. 
 
 “ My dearest Mother and all, 
 
 “Well, well, here we are; how inexpressibly interesting our arrival 
 altogether has been, I cannot say. It was a soft morning (when we started to 
 return from Perth) so we had “ a noddy" down to the pier, a laddie yesterday, 
 whom we ashed where the steam-boats went from, having replied, ‘ an awfu’ 
 muckle lump awa !’ Our sail to Dundee was quite delightful. The shores of 
 the Frith of Tay so overflowing with richness ; the air was very mild and the 
 rain slight, just enough to cause a most lovely rainbow just spanning the 
 Frith from shore to shore, to follow us all the way down. The arch was 
 perfect, all the colours bright, and with its feet on the corn-fields, it made the 
 most lovely bridge over the Tay. Just as we arrived at Dundee quite a gale 
 came on. Our embarking for the Edinbro’ steam-hoat, which lay in the 
 middle of the Frith, was to me truly frightful, there was such a press of 
 people and such a tossing sea that when we three and baby had scrambled 
 in, off went the boat without Andrew, for I screamed to them to push off, 
 such crowds of people were pressing in. Our clamber up the steamer was 
 no less unpleasant ; the swell was so high that it soon appeared landing at 
 Anstruther was out of the case ; in short, some feared the boat could not 
 have encountered the Frith at all. Most anxious we were to get a landing at 
 Crail ; there was a great doubt about it. I must say I did pray that we 
 
108 RETURN TO FIFE. 1836. set. 28. 
 
 might, and to my joy (at least as much joy as wretches with heads on carpet 
 bags on the deck could feel at anything) we heard that a boat was coming off, 
 the getting in to it was frightful, every moment it was swung feet away from 
 the ship, and we had to leap to get into it. Our landing was very laughable, 
 the tide being low, there was no means of getting up but by a very steep, 
 rude and slippery sort of stair in the rock, and then a most absurd climb up 
 a wall, with a few wooden bars across it as a sort of perpendicular ladder. 
 Thus we clambered into the kingdom of Fife, and into the royal burgh of 
 Crail, but a most draggle-tailed appearance we presented as we walked up the 
 little street to the inn. Then, after a while, was produced a sort of rough 
 cart, into which the member, his wife, sister, and bairn bundled; the woman, 
 its mistress, sitting down in the front by the shaft, and Andrew driving : 
 getting home at last was indeed comfortable to our feelings in every way.” 
 
 Upon receiving the tidings of her aunt Mrs. Hoare’s death, 
 she thus writes : — 
 
 “ Rennyhill, September 8. 
 
 “ What can we say to the most deeply affecting and solemn intelligence ? 
 I feel so much to say to every one, and yet when we come to write, what is 
 there but one thing — the immensity of our loss — the immensity of her gain. 
 These two comprise all that can he said or felt, I think. For ourselves a 
 bright light is gone, one of our best treasures as a family, as a circle, — a friend, 
 adviser, helper. I cannot express what I think of the loss to us Buxtons. I 
 bitterly feel that I and mine have lost one of our best friends — a friend able, 
 disinterested, generous, delightful, capable of helping and of pleasing us in 
 life in no common degree ; but everything one can say, falls so utterly short, 
 and is so flat and weak in comparison of the truth. My heart pictures the 
 scene in that sweet and most melancholy spot. Let us seek to realize the 
 unspeakable change for her — ‘ The oil of joy for mourning, the garment of 
 praise for the spirit of heaviness.’ The joy, the liberty, the unbounded 
 overflow of praise which we know is her portion. I feel as if she could 
 appreciate the joys of heaven more than most, and as if her joy must be 
 greater, for the depths of her hungering and thirsting after it.” 
 
1836. set. 28. her happy life. 109 
 
 Rennyliill, October 12. 
 
 To her sister C. B. — “I have been much interested lately in ‘redding 
 up,’ as they call it, putting the linen in order, (spun by Andrew’s great 
 grandmother and her maids), making inventories, &c., and spending much 
 time in our curious old garret, where there is lumber of every kind; and 
 I am always making some entertaining discoveries, though generally at the 
 expense of being poisoned with dust. I have routed out five swords, a 
 blunderbuss, a very fine pistol, golf clubs, fishing rods, &c., without end.” 
 
 “ We are just come in from a delightful walk, this brilliant winterly 
 afternoon. I did long for you all, the exquisite beauty of the sea, the busy 
 lively scene at Cellardyke of the arrival of the boats, the piles and hundreds 
 of silvery haddocks, the picturesque groups in and round the harbour, the 
 rocks sparkling in the waves. We had also some geological sport : every 
 stone and rock on the beach containing some pieces of cactus, or the impres- 
 sion of it on bits of wood. The fossil trees standing straight up out of the 
 rock, full three feet high, are most curious I trudge along well clothed in 
 my bear skins, and with Indian rubber shoes more curious than beautiful 
 certainly. The poor, the school, and the estate, find us abundant objects.” 
 
 November 8. 
 
 To her aunt Sarah. — “ How long will it be before we shall see another 
 home half or a quarter so much to our taste as this. But I will not allow 
 myself to love it so much. I won't allow myself to plant a flower to give it 
 one hair’s more strength over me, for it will not be our lot here to abide, 
 I see. I am as happy as the day is long. I enjoy everything. I cannot tell 
 you my dearest aunt, the sort of inward tranquillity that is spread over me. 
 Well does this regular hum-drum life suit me, dull as it appears (for we have 
 certainly very little stirring amongst us) ; but the objects about us, the op- 
 portunity of a little reading, the happy feeling of health, and a serious 
 grave enjoyment of the future, make me very happy. My mother’s sweet 
 and interesting letter touches me much. I long that I were with her ; may 
 she be cheered and comforted. Surely it is a mistaken view that when we 
 cannot be active, that w r e can take no part with others. Are the walls of a 
 
UNCERTAINTIES. 
 
 110 
 
 1836. set. 28. 
 
 house useless because they are not tables and chairs ? It may not be so 
 agreeable to human nature to endure, as to do ; but, after all, which is the 
 best lesson to those around? I am quite well, and truly idle; I indeed 
 might say, I am of no earthly use.” 
 
 November 13 . — Here we are without a notion what, where, 
 or how we are to be, whether our Scotch affairs are ever to be 
 brought to a favourable settlement, whether any English home is 
 ever to open upon us. Parliament, business, everything in the 
 same state of uncertainty. The present season of repose, and the 
 opportunity it gives for deliberation in our affairs, and for us set- 
 ting them as far as they admit of to rights, is most favourable for 
 us. I have indeed been endeavouring this morning thoroughly 
 and effectually to lay one after another before the eye of our good 
 and gracious Father ; and oh ! that I may indeed find the bur- 
 den to lie no longer on me. How easily He can see through our 
 tangled web ! How easily can He open a way and make all 
 crooked things straight before us ; and we know and are sure 
 the will is not wanting when He sees it to be for our good, and 
 dare we wish it sooner or otherwise? I feel that for mj^self the 
 trial laid upon me in all this is nothing. I have all that makes 
 me happy. My time here is spent much like an old mother hen, 
 and who is to call her idle ? I do read by myself, and with my 
 husband and Katharine Johnston, keep things going amongst 
 the poor a little, work and draw, guide the house as much as our 
 regular clockwork routine needs guiding, and play with 1113- bairn. 
 I am very very happy and remarkably well. 
 
1836. set. 28. “the burn.” Ill 
 
 November 23. 
 
 To her Mother. — * * * “I must tell of our catastrophes. This morn- 
 
 ing early, I heard cries of “ The burn, the burn.”* I sprang up, and there 
 was the burn raging along like a little sea, the washhouse entirely surrounded 
 by it. All ran out, but there was nothing to be done but look on. Soon 
 word came that the pigeon house was an island too. The next intelligence 
 was, “ The dyke’s (wall) gone.” I covered myself with a cloak, and as 
 soon as we could see through the drifts of snow and sleet, what a sight 
 it was ! a vast gap, that high thick wall gone 1 The flood had already 
 abated through this vent, but a great cascade was pouring out of the doo* 
 cot door, the torrent rushing down in grand style. Poor Mrs. Mackill 
 was having a grand wash, and there came all her things — sheets, shirts, 
 and table cloths, tearing along by us — maids and men screaming after them 
 with rakes and poles. It was very odd, that the little hedge and the apple 
 trees that were nailed upon the wall, did not go too. There were the trees 
 standing alone, stretching out their arms, and looking most queer and 
 deplorable. About forty yards of the wall are gone. I must say, if it 
 were not for the ‘bawbees’ that it will cost us, I should enjoy the sport. 
 We are so snug and warm here, while such wild weather is raging without. 
 We had a sight of the aurora in the middle of the day, a few Sundays 
 since ; we thought at first the clouds were very strange, but, on looking at 
 them, we saw them flickering and shooting up; and, sure enough, they 
 were the northern lights.” 
 
 December 11. — I have felt strongly impressed among my 
 meditations with the deceitfulness of the heart, particularly in 
 respect of any of our more active services, even where they 
 originated in something like a sense of the constraint of love ; 
 how soon does corrupt human nature take them up as it were, 
 interfere and mix dross with gold ; the plans we have laid 
 
 * Brook. 
 
112 journal. 1836 . set. 28 . 
 
 down, habits, the expectation of others, above all, the standard 
 and mark we have secretly planted in our own minds, how 
 soon do these slide in and become the influencing motives to 
 our little daily efforts. I have detected this so much in myself 
 by the kind of impatience and vexation which it has caused me 
 to be hindered by my cold from going among the poor, <fce. 
 If my motives were pure — the simple longing to serve my Lord — 
 I should be exactly as willing to sit by the fire at His command 
 as to go out. The truly devoted servant is satisfied to be sitting 
 in his post with nothing to do, if so his Master wills ; but we 
 attach ourselves to our work, a secret self-complacency creeps in, 
 there is a natural pleasure in being active and busy, it raises 
 the natural spirits, we get petty tributes of applause from others, 
 and all this carries us on. I hope I have received a useful 
 lesson ; but oh ! it is hard to keep the right medium between 
 indolence on the one hand, and following our business in a self- 
 pleasing spirit on the other. May it be my endeavour 
 
 “ Thine utmost counsel to fulfil, 
 
 To suffer all Thy righteous will. 
 
 And to the end endure ! ” 
 
 They soon after left Scotland, and the next letter is dated : — 
 
 “ Upton, Saturday, December 17. 
 
 “ Well, my dearest mother and all, here we are ; you were indeed 
 mistaken in thinking we have been having ‘ perfect’ weather. Alas, alas ! we 
 had all the way a very rough passage, and landing at Cromer was utterly 
 impossible and hopeless. It howled all the night before we left Rennyhill, 
 and we had almost given up starting, when a lull succeded the blustering 
 
1836. set. 28. voyage to London. 113 
 
 wind, and we found it brightening every hour till we got to Dundee. We 
 were alone in our glory in the noble ship, but, when we reached the open sea, 
 found an awful swell, waves as high they said as the ship itself. Oh ! such 
 a roll ; long, sweeping, sickening rolls, more like being in a very high swing 
 than anything. It was not without trouble that we kept in our beds, the 
 things tumbled about in our cabin in eveiy direction. When we passed 
 Cromer, at about twelve or one (a.h.,) every wave washed over the deck ; 
 however, at last, the wind changed, and by a bright moon we arrived in the 
 river the middle of last night ; oh 1 the blessing of finding the engine at rest 
 this morning. I am wonderfully well.” 
 
 A month after, a pencil note to E. N. B., written “ secretly 
 on the corner of the sofa,” gives a most interesting account of a 
 scene at Northrepps relating to the Committee on the Abori- 
 gines, for which her cousin Anna Gurney drew up the report : — 
 
 “ January 17, 1837. 
 
 “ I only wish you could see the very interesting party assembled — 
 Dr. Philips, my father, Anna, Andrew, at the table, each with a copy of the 
 large blue book before them, and pens in hands. It is surprising how well 
 they are able to work together, entertaining, but how important ! I really 
 could but sit by and wonder at the extraordinary privilege and interest of 
 seeing such things at their moving spring. The notes Dr. P. has brought, 
 prepared by Christie, ai-e really capital as an abstract of the evidence ; bones 
 they are, and Anna has the flesh ready for them — she has bones too. Dr. P. 
 reads his, then she hers ; then they discuss, make notes, and settle it. My 
 father is uncommonly bright, and Anna sets to work with a kind of intensity 
 which is most interesting to see. We all sit round, I say, like the ostrich’s 
 eggs scattered outside the nest, to look on and give our valuable assistance 
 from time to time ; aunt Sarah and I on one sofa, my mother and the boys 
 near. They are to-day over the Kaffir case ; yesterday was devoted to the 
 suggestion of remedies.” 
 
114 FULL LIFE 1837. set. 29. 
 
 Devonshire Street, February 26. 
 
 To her cousin Anna. — “How things do crowd upon us here. We have 
 been, as it were, walking up Fitz James’s path ever since we came, the bog 
 sinking under our feet, and struggling through the stiff heather and scratch- 
 ing ferns. I am almost in a rage with you, dearest Anna, for wanting the 
 East Indian papers so violently. Can’t you be quiet an hour ? I am sure we 
 have enough to do without bringing one hundred and fifty millions of Indians 
 about our ears. As far as my small powers go, if these one hundred and fifty 
 millions are to be set to rights by you, I shall not only not help, but hinder, I 
 intend. Our room is a kind of a chaos of all things, and we are buying a 
 washing-stand, which I think must hang from the ceiling. * * * Would 
 
 you were here, w 7 e are so left-handed without you. Here we sit — Mr. 
 Bannister’s long arms stretched out across the breakfast table, my father but 
 just down, but the report supersedes his egg, and a strange mixture we 
 present of tea and ink, plates and papers. Bannister keeps spelling now to 
 find out who wrote the report, muttering — ‘ Such well arranged facts,’ ‘very 
 strong,’ ‘ such a small compass,’ 1 May I ask if Mrs. Johnston wrote it ? I 
 suppose not.’ ‘ Oh ! ’ said A, ‘ I should be very proud if she had.’ ‘ Well,’ — 
 Bannister keeps muttering to himself — 1 I tliougbjt I knew something about 
 
 the Cape, but this ,’ ‘ very powerful.’ Enter Mr. Christie. My father 
 
 holds out his hand to him without looking up from his book ; A. and Mr. B . 
 give him a nod ; I venture a whisper of gossip, and on we go again. They 
 are planning to get it (Aborigines report) received before Easter. ‘ I can't 
 have the proofs too quick,’ says my father ; ‘ to-morrow we ll meet.' My 
 mother puts in, — ‘ Now, darling, I will have thee eat breakfast ; thy tea is 
 entirely spoiled ; it is really most important.’ My father — ‘ Now, Andrew^ 
 how do you mean to vote to-night ? ’ My mother — ‘ Thy breakfast : now I 
 will have thee!’ My father — ‘Now 7 , call that unhappy Mr. Waineright. 
 So we go on, and he is now in full talk.” 
 
 Devonshire Street, Monday, April 17. — Much do I want to 
 say about the past, the present and the future are all so full ; 
 but I must now keep myself entirely to the past, for although 
 
1837. set. 29. “little Andrew’s” illness. 115 
 
 the time is now quite past, I do earnestly wish for my future 
 good to retain some little record of the illness of my precious 
 little Andrew. One morning I found him heavy, oppressed, and 
 fretful. Sunday was a day of sorrow and trial, his state of evident 
 suffering, incessant fret, and distressed countenance was indeed 
 hard to bear. I spent my time chiefly on the sofa in his room, 
 sometimes reading, sometimes working a little, but more, as it 
 were, using my whole powers to cling to the anchor which only 
 could keep me ; and, I may say, through infinite mercy, I was 
 kept surprisingly stedfast. My desire and plan was, to cast up a 
 prayer at every moan; every time he said, “hurt him, hurt him” 
 (which was his incessant cry), to call on our Lord to listen— 
 to beseech an attentive ear ; and, I may say, I was permitted 
 to see him in the arms of his Heavenly Father. I did see and 
 know the tender arm of mercy round about him ; and, even in 
 our strifts of sorrow, I felt and believed in the continual presence 
 and entire superintendence of our Heavenly Parent. Perpetually 
 was I helped, by the sense of my deep love towards him, and also 
 by that of my precious parents towards me and him, to realize 
 the far greater love of our Lord towards us all, and that, not poor, 
 powerless love like our own, but combined with all wisdom and 
 all power. We were brought to the point of giving him up, and 
 we did, I believe, most truly and fully relinquish him, in our 
 hearts acknowledging that he had always been a loan — not our 
 own — that our Heavenly Father had the right to him ; and, 
 with something like consent of heart, we did give up the entire 
 
116 note from mrs. fry. 1837. set. 29. 
 
 disposal of him to Him, not asking his life or anything about 
 him, but as seen best for him and us ; though the cry would 
 arise, for the mitigation of his pain. When the turn was taken 
 and by degrees he was given to us again, the chief joy of it, I 
 think, was the conviction that it was in the truest mercy — that 
 it was in no sort on our responsibility ; but a token for good 
 as well as present happiness. He has indeed been lovely and 
 precious in our eyes beyond what I can say, and far beyond what 
 he ever was before, since his recovery. I have often doubted 
 whether my struggle would not be greater now ; but may I 
 not take a little courage for the future, and believe that strength 
 will be given me in proportion to all my need ? I am glad to 
 have thus far recorded the past ; it may be valuable, too, to 
 the beloved child himself, if he ever comes to read his mother’s 
 lucubrations. 
 
 “ 4th mo., 25. 
 
 “ My dearest Priscilla, 
 
 “ Though a Sabbath, I must write thee a few lines of love. I am 
 just come from the meeting, where my test was — ‘ Thine eyes shall see 
 the King in his beauty and behold the land that is very far off.’ A little 
 glimpse of this now and then sheds a ray of light over the wilderness 
 travel; though I do not like us to look too much at the thorns, hut more 
 at the sweet roses that now and then bestrew our path ; and, when the ray of 
 the Sun of Righteousness shines upon them, they are very sweet. I have 
 often found it so ; and, therefore, I desire that the clouds that at times 
 overshadow us, and the thorns that beset our course, may not unduly 
 weigh us down. * * * * 
 
 “ Thy loving aunt, 
 
 “E. Fby.” 
 
1837. set. 29. her parent’s wedding day. 117 
 
 Northrepps, May 13. 
 
 From her Father. — “ My dearest Pris., — I am not going to write to you 
 now, hut to throw upon paper (which you may read if you please) some 
 record of yesterday, which was a memorable day with me. 
 
 “When I went to breakfast in Charles’s day-room I brought in the box 
 containing the watch ; and having collected the party, I asked Amelia Carr 
 what she thought ought to be done to a girl who had been good for thirty 
 years together. I then exhibited our splendid prize (which , by the bye, is 
 called ‘ the flitch’), made it sing its silver tones, shewed its inscription, which 
 I admire, and all its beauties. Hannah was really pleased — exceedingly pleased 
 — gratified and flattered ; so the whole matter went off to perfection. And I 
 have dwelt, both yesterday and still more to-day, very much on the mercy which 
 has been showered upon me by a gracious and indulgent Lord. I feel that I 
 cannot be grateful enough for the heaps and loads of mercies which have 
 been my lot. Thirty years ago I was married to one I loved with youthful 
 ardour. I love her ten times more, as might be expected ; but I admire 
 her at least twenty times as much : I am more of an admirer and lover of 
 hers than this day thirty years back. What has she not been to me ? Was 
 there ever so tender, so generous, so disinterested, so refined a creature? 
 I can truly say that in all that time I never heard from her a harsh word, 
 or saw her do anything intentionally wrong to me or others ; so that may 
 fairly stand first amongst earthly blessings. The next is a blessing of 
 a still higher order, dei’ived, indeed, from a higher source; but she was 
 the medium through which it was sent. Her spiritual instruction has been 
 invaluable to me ; constant, invariable, steady, and indefatigable, she sought 
 and found truth and taught it to me. 
 
 “ No. 3, my children. My dearest Pris., what a comforter and helper 
 have you been to me ! I have ceased to look upon you as a daughter ; you 
 have been something more than that to me — more of the order of a friend, 
 only closer and nearer and dearer. Then only think of your having brought 
 me quite another son in dutiful affection, and two new shoots ; the last I 
 know nothing about, so I can feign no raptures ; but little Andrew I love 
 almost to second childishness. Then Edward and his charming Catherine, 
 
118 LETTER FROM T. F. B. 1837. 80 1. 29. 
 
 each just the thing of things to meet my fancy and satisfy my wishes ; and 
 then the other children, who will not, I expect, be behind their seniors. So 
 there is No. 3 made out as clear as a diamond. 
 
 “ Now, the rest of my long list of blessings you must (as I shall do as 
 I wander about) expatiate upon them. I will just give you a few of the 
 heads : — 
 
 “ My success in business, and that business so good and untroublesome. 
 
 “My seat in Parliament for nineteen years, and the objects which have 
 been trusted to undeserving me. 
 
 “ The preservation of my life and health in so many extremities. 
 
 “ My brothers, sisters, and friends. 
 
 “ The success which has crowned my public labours. 
 
 “ These are a few, and but a few, of the sources of grateful satisfaction. 
 
 “Just two or three verses which will supply us with subjects of thankful 
 application, and then good bye ! — 
 
 “ ‘Thy raiment waxed not old upon thee, neither did thy foot swell 
 these forty years.’ 
 
 “ ‘ My cup runneth over : sui’ely goodness and mercy have followed me 
 all the days of my life ; and (may it be) I shall dwell in the house of the 
 Lord for ever ! ’ 
 
 “ ‘Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits and 
 every clause in that catalogue of mercies, each of which has been offered for 
 my acceptance. 
 
 “ ‘He maketli me to lie down in green pastures.’ 
 
 “ Farewell ! farewell ! I must go and hear the birds, and turn my eyes 
 to the wonderful Giver of such stores of mercies ! 
 
 “ Yours most affectionately, 
 
 “ T. F. Buxton.” 
 
 Her journal is again resumed : — 
 
 Sunday, May 28. — To-morrow morning, at two o’clock, my 
 precious little girl will be a month old. It lias been a very 
 
 favoured time. I may indeed say, “ F orget not, 0 my soul, the 
 
1837. set. 29. happiness. 119 
 
 benefits of the Lord.” It has been such a happy pause, so quiet and 
 calm, such a sense of mercy, and everything extremely smooth. In 
 a small degree I have tasted of that sweetest of all sweets, some 
 communion with my Heavenly Father, some power of prayer, and 
 a little measure of the unction of His love, so that I have often felt 
 to know the green pasture and still waters. And now in returning 
 to busy and worrying life, to this truly working-day world, which I 
 do indeed find it, on coming out of my retreat, 0 may I retain the 
 savour of all this, and be found established in quietness of soul. 
 
 Monday, Upton, (Edward’s House), June 12. — A fortnight of 
 much trial has been our allotment since I last wrote. My dearest 
 mother’s poorliness ended in a very sad attack of illness. Chenda 
 and I have been devoted to her ; my tenderest sympathy has 
 been excited ; in short, my tie to my parents is only far too 
 strong. It is most interesting to be at Edward’s house. He 
 and Catherine are travelling in the Isle of Wight. We have 
 been living here, or rather I have, very quietly. The weather 
 has been most genial, and the rest truly acceptable. Yesterday 
 my dearest mother and Chenda came to Ham House, so we are 
 all now here. The king is said to be dying, and therefore we 
 are looking to a speedy dispersion. 
 
 Again in Scotland, she thus writes : — 
 
 Rennyhill, July 26. — My dearest husband yesterday retired 
 from the contest for the burghs. I wish to note this corner in our 
 lives, although I have not yet sufficiently digested it to have an}^- 
 thing particular to say. A checquered time since I last wrote. At 
 
LOST ELECTION. 
 
 120 
 
 1837. set. 29. 
 
 Upton till Wednesday 21st June, a hurried winding-up at 
 Devonshire Street ; and on Saturday evening, June 24th, the 
 whole party escorted us to the steamer and left us, our two lambs 
 and Sabey not certainly in great luxury. The parting with poor 
 Palmer was one of the most painful ; but I was sorely mother-sick 
 too. Our voyage was prosperous, though with some extreme 
 discomfits, and the awful accident of losing a man, who fell or threw 
 himself overboard. Since this my husband has been most hard at 
 work, and not one day at home, except the Sundays, which have 
 been delightful. His canvas bad, sundry ups and downs, not so 
 his faith and content ; and yesterday he retired with very great 
 eclat. All I can say is, we have, indeed, from our hearts, com- 
 mitted this matter to the decision of our Almighty Father, that we 
 can only accept His dealings, believing that the}" are surely the 
 best for us. Flatness there is, and I weightily feel the loss it is to 
 my dearest father ; to ourselves, in the present, there is great relief 
 and liberty, but we do not yet know the changes it will make. 
 May we indeed be directed and blessed in turning into a new path 
 of life ; may we be led in the right way, and enabled to improve 
 the talents still committed to us. We are now full of the deepest 
 interest, I cannot say anxiety, about my father’s election. 
 
 To T. F. B., on his being turned out of Parliament : — 
 
 “ Kennyhill, August 1. 
 
 “ My dearest Father, 
 
 “ This day I cannot pass by without one word, though now utterly in 
 vain to attempt to put on paper the feelings with which I am filled — half 
 
1837. set. 29. letter to t. f. b. 121 
 
 the apprenticeship well over. Your twenty years’ labours in Parliament 
 happily and well ended! You, as I believe, most mercifully and lovingly 
 unharnessed, as it were, and permitted to rest, with something of the 
 sanction, ‘ Well done good and faithful servant.’ I am sure I would not use 
 these sacred words lightly, but I do solemnly believe that they may be 
 accepted by you on this occasion ; and 0 that it may be given you to rest 
 and relax fully. I find in a letter dated December, 1834, these words — 
 
 ‘ The best thing that could happen to Andrew and me would be to use our 
 utmost endeavours to get in and to be kicked out, which fate I think awaits 
 your loving father, T. F. B.’ I cannot condole. I feel nothing but thankful 
 gladness — I should say joy, at the blessing of your release. If I were but 
 with you I should be quite happy, though I do wish most emphatically to 
 say, which I know will comfort you, that this day three years was not only 
 most happy in itself, but the beginning of great and increasing happiness to 
 me, and that my hearty acknowledgment is, ‘ my cup runneth over !’ So I 
 may leave the future, though always in saying this, I feel as if there was one 
 condition I almost must make, that I may continue one in my father’s house. 
 With the most heartfelt love and gratitude and continual desires that you 
 may ever be as a green bay tree by the rivers of water, 
 
 “ I ever am, most lovingly, 
 
 “ P. Johnston.” 
 
 P.S. — “Do you remember Mr. S. Rice going to condole with Lord 
 Althorp the day after his being turned out, and finding him cleaning his 
 gun? A good example for you!” 
 
 “ August 1. 
 
 “ My dearest Brothers, 
 
 “ What a week was last to our family ! what changes in a fortnight 
 effected! From priding ourselves on having two M. P.’s, here we are with- 
 out one — all our dignities swept off at one blow. It is, to be sure, a most 
 extraordinary aberration in those wretches to dismiss our father (having 
 known him for nearly twenty years) and to prefer two puppies to him ! 
 
 “ I am now writing on this auspicious day ; and, had I time, I am 
 sure I could find subject matter for an essay on it! How crowned have 
 
LETTERS. 
 
 122 
 
 1837. set. 29. 
 
 we been with blessings ; and I feel perhaps none is so great as this present 
 rejection of our father by those blind bats at Weymouth ! 
 
 “If people could but be christened again and newly surnamed, there is 
 no possible reason why Sir R. Peel, Lord John, and some others, should 
 not make up a capital ministry, and carry through all manner of reason- 
 able, quiet reforms. I am sorry our men will not have a right to attend 
 the young queen’s coronation and get medals. Well, no bird can be happier 
 in its nest than I am here ! ” 
 
 The following letters are about her aunt Sarah’s and cousin 
 Anna’s visit to Rennyhill : — 
 
 Rennyhill, August 3. 
 
 From A. G. — “ My dearest Sister, — It is a pleasure to write to you 
 from this interesting and most attractive place. Priscilla is splendid, 
 blooming, and flourishing ! At the first glance she struck us as looking 
 pale ; but since that, we have done nothing but admire her own out- 
 ward appearance, as well as everything belonging to her. She is not 
 pale, but quite in good keeping, as to hue, with the roses, which are in 
 profusion before her, and I have seen no white ones amongst them, so 
 there is no quibble in my assertion. She is in good case, and I have 
 not observed a pretence of a cough. This first, to give you certain and 
 positive pleasure. Our kindest of hosts, too, is looking well and in good 
 spirits, not embittered by the ill-treatment he has met with, but just as 
 cheerful and rightminded as ever. I cannot say -what a reception they 
 have given us, nor how very happy we feel ourselves with them. 
 
 “ Yours, A. G.” 
 
 4th August, Rennyhill (absolutely). 
 
 From S. M. B. — “ My very dearest Sister, — If anything can make me 
 love you and Fowell more at one time than another, it is now that we 
 are enjoying one of your best gifts to us. I really experience the happy 
 feeling of being in an own child’s house, and her prosperity is manifest 
 in every thing around her. Her husband and herself are one to us. 
 

LETTERS. 
 
 1837. set. 29. 
 
 123 
 
 Anna has told you how everything strikes us here — not a luxury want- 
 ing; and the scale of things — the comfort and liberty just according with 
 our tastes. Priscilla’s appetite is excellent. I dined with them yester- 
 day, and shall, I trust, daily. She no longer sips and picks, but eats 
 and drinks. 
 
 “ I have their delightful drawing-room for my own, and oh ! the treat 
 of the good fire, besides it keeps iu without stirring ; and I had such a 
 soft sleepful night, and I feel like a bride to day, so happy in our new 
 privileges. 
 
 “ Priscilla is ready for me. We two first read the Bible together, 
 and get the children. Do accept my hearty thanks for all your remem- 
 brance of me, and loving thoughts towards us in my suffering. I am 
 now doing well, and my appetite so good here, taking wine and meat, 
 and their good soup. 
 
 “Yours most lovingly, 
 
 “ S. M. B.” 
 
 Bennyhill, August 10. 
 
 From A. G. to Mrs. C. Gurney. — “ My dearest Catherine, — I still cannot 
 give you a good account of Sarah. * * * Everything here is most attractive 
 to us, the house very much so, you would really enjoy it; and I do think if 
 you could some time or other take a journey and see Scotland, it would 
 be more gratification than effort to you. Our windows at Edinburgh gave 
 us a finer view than any panorama I ever saw ; but it is, if possible, ex- 
 ceeded by the beauty and interest of this Frith. The first taste we had 
 of the Frith, however, was not so delicious; a taste it literally was, for 
 the day we crossed (the 2nd) it was so rough that the sea water dashed 
 into the carriage, as well as the rain ; but the sight of the glowing fires in 
 these rooms (such coals they have !) soon put dreary visions out of our 
 heads. 
 
 “ As for the house, it is decidedly an attractive one, and full of accom- 
 modation. I like it excessivelj', and, as Anna told us, it is a very roomy 
 house. It is quite out of the way of the village, and yet so near the Church, 
 
 S 
 
124 THE COTTAGE LADIES 1837. let. 29. 
 
 that I was carried there in my chair ; and there is a nice garden full of 
 roses, fruit and vegetables, in front, and at the back grass fields with a 
 grove of fine old trees.” 
 
 “ Yours very affectionately, 
 
 “A. G.” 
 August 10. 
 
 From P. J. to her Mother abroad. — “ My dearest Mother, — I do feel 
 beginning a letter to you, which must follow you to a foreign land, and 
 not reach you for more than a week at soonest. However we must be 
 hardy as possible about our separation. Dearest aunt Sarah is now come 
 in, so I must go to her; she is a shade better to-day, but is altogether 
 in an illness more than I have ever known her. We got post-horses 
 and went out a drive, but it was sad to see her in much suffering and 
 with an incessant cough. I fear travelling has sadly lost its power of 
 relieving her ; they must give up the Highlands, and I think Anna has done 
 so. I am thankful to saj this place seems to have suited them as well as 
 any place could ; they are most kind in choosing to like and be pleased with 
 everything. Anna is well — I think nothing can exceed her kindness ; and she 
 is wonderfully bright and spirited, though very anxious too about aunt 
 Sarah. They talk of going away on Monday or Tuesday. We have got on 
 very nicely as to the house ; the servants have all done very well, and the 
 children most sweet. Andrew (the Laird, I mean), all I could wish with 
 Anna — a bright agi’eeable companion to her, taking her out in the farmer’s 
 gigs, reading with her and to her ; and we have found many things' to please 
 and amuse her. I have been of course devoted to aunt Sarah, reading to 
 her after breakfast, and nursing her up to the utmost of my power; what 
 I long for is, to get down nourishment, but it is most difficult. She is, I 
 think, comfortable in spirits on the whole, and in a most sweet and beautiful 
 state of mind. It has indeed been a great interest to receive them here. 
 I do feel very much about her case, and don’t know how I shall bear 
 their going off, though I fully hope to turn to all our own objects with zeal 
 and pleasure, and especially among out-door objects, that of getting up an 
 infant school. I have not yet begun my Sunday school, but fully intend it 
 
1837. set. 29. at rennyhill. 125 
 
 as soon as they are gone. I do extremely enjoy and value our present 
 life. I must say, within the walls of our owm house and garden, I seem 
 to have nothing to wish for.” 
 
 “ Eennyhill, August 15. 
 
 “ My dearest Mother, 
 
 “ I wrote to you on Friday. We went on most quietly with our dear 
 guests — I spending the mornings always with aunt Sarah. They were easily 
 filled between the Bible, letters, and talking — Anna generally reading and 
 writing in the tapestry-room ; and after luncheon she and Andrew generally 
 went out together, and twice we got horses and drove out all together in 
 their carriage. We made a point of a nice evening from eight till near ten, 
 reading ‘Old Mortality’ and playing at chess, wdiich seems to quiet dear 
 aunt Sarah’s cough more than almost anything. We then went dowm to 
 reading. I generally paid aunt Sarah a last and interesting visit at night, 
 finding her in night array on her couch, looking most sweet, hut a shadow ! 
 She is only too spiritual, both in mind and body — ‘fine drawn,' as it w T ere — 
 but yet most accessible and thirsting for religious comfort. I never saw a 
 more humble and grateful spirit, receiving, as it were, the cup of salvation 
 with eagerness. She liked Andrew’s readings, &c., exceedingly ; in short, he 
 was quite their delight. She was tenderly kind to the children, and really 
 enjoyed them more than I expected. Our Sunday was happy, though she was 
 grievously sunk. Anna was with her in the morning ; I in the afternoon.” 
 
 After leaving Kenny hill, her aunt writes : — 
 
 “ St. Andrews, August 15. 
 
 “ My dearest, dearest Priscilla, 
 
 “ Our drive is finished, and we are waiting for the appearance of 
 dinner. I am still elated, alive and afloat, not able to bend, or to feel very 
 conscious that the feast so full is over. I sat upright all the way to St. 
 Andrews like Effie at kirk. I saw the country very well, the Isle of May, 
 Oran, &e., and those fine posts of stone that are so connected with my 
 recollections of Fifeshire. 
 
LETTERS. 
 
 126 
 
 1837. set. 29. 
 
 “ Thy dearest is by our side, and thus we are to the last most tenderly 
 cared for; and peace, sweetness, and quietness prevail. 
 
 “ Dinner over, and the late M.P. gone after late constituents. He will 
 report well of us. The day so balmy, and our intercourse together stamped 
 with the blessing that is sustaining, we are the happier for this fortnight 
 with you. My partner is at the top of gaiety, loquacious, delighted and 
 delightful. Archbishop Sharpe's murder, and the grave of the martyrs our 
 pastime. How well worth seeing are this town and its environs! If you 
 are not well acquainted with its history, do on some excursion of pleasure 
 come and explore. 
 
 * * * “ I have had my one or two readings and my budget of 
 
 thoughts, and I see Rennyliill verdant in the sunshine, and its profusion 
 of roses, good emblems of its simplicity and sweetness. 
 
 “I am grave, but not unhappy; and I feel much more impressed and 
 gratified by the unlooked-for riches so graciously prepared for us in our 
 sojourn with you, than melancholy over the needs be for our separation. 
 
 “ S. M. Buxton.” 
 
 August 19. 
 
 P. J. to her aunt Sarah. — “ My mind and imagination have been quite 
 full of your excursions. How clever and enterprising (in short, blue) you 
 are ! This is my continual ejaculation. I admire your zeal, and have no 
 doubt it is the best thing for you ; but yet I hardly understand it, my 
 dearest aunt, compared with your state here. These rooms are indeed 
 enriched by your images ; I trust I shall never lose the sense of them. I 
 think I like everything about the place the better for your having been 
 here and having liked it; I cannot help longing you were here still, and I 
 look at the vacant place of your couch rather wistfully. We intend to be 
 stirred up by your visit in many things ; and I am to be very smart all 
 the winter, and clothe myself, if not my maidens, in scarlet ! I must go in 
 hopes of getting a breath of air between the showers. With dearest love 
 to you both, 
 
 “ Ever most affectionately, 
 
 “ P. Johnston.” 
 
] 837. set. 29. 
 
 T. F. B.’S VISIT. 
 
 127 
 
 Edinburgh, September 8. 
 
 From S. M. B. — * * * “ For you I have earnestly desired this 
 
 morning that the voice of joy and gladness may long be beard in your 
 dwelling, and the songs be continued of thanksgiving and praise ! 0 may 
 
 no evil, no devices of our great enemy, and no acute sorrows of sickness 
 and pain find entrance, or even approach your dwelling. Your telling me 
 that you have been comfortable, and that you have been busy, happy, and 
 well, pleases me more than anything ; it was just what ought to be, and 
 what I earnestly desired — that the interest of our being together, and all 
 your thoughts and labours of love for us might prove an encouragement 
 and satisfaction to yourselves.” 
 
 Her father paid a visit to Rennyhill, and, after he was gone, 
 she writes to her mother : — 
 
 “ September 28. 
 
 “ This will reach you all assembled at Northrepps. I shall picture 
 everything — the garden, court, horses, rooms, and, above all, the dear cottage 
 carriage driving up. Often, indeed, is the image of my dear window and its 
 red fringe of leaves before me. How thankful I am to have you so nicely, 
 and sitting to Delacourt ! The remembrance of my father’s visit is a feast 
 to me. He was beyond himself — fastening and fascinating to me. I never 
 saw him so delightful — so good, tender, and accessible. He came amongst 
 us as a minister ; and I saw but gifts and graces abounding in him.” 
 
 “ October 28. 
 
 “ My dearest Charles, 
 
 * * * “ Now, I must turn to the subject on which I intended my 
 
 letter should have chiefly been — your Sunday classes. I only wish I could 
 express myself as clearly as I feel. My difficulty is not to fill tbe hour, but 
 to crowd in it all I have to do. I first begin by hearing them the task I 
 have set them, which is a hymn and two or three verses of the Bible. I am 
 very particular that they should say it loudly, distinctly, and slowly ; and 
 this often requires many repetitions to attain. I say a line myself, and make 
 
128 
 
 SUNDAY CLASSES. 
 
 1837. set. 29. 
 
 them follow me, sounding every syllable. That done, I fix their lesson for 
 next week, and read it over with them, make them read it, and see that they 
 thoroughly understand it, asking the meaning of every word the least 
 difficult, and talking to them about it. We then turn to the Bible ; and the 
 only difficulty is, to get through eight or ten verses — so many questions arise, 
 and so much conversation. I have been weeks this autumn travelling 
 through the first chapter of Genesis — ‘ God made the herb.’ ‘ What is an 
 herb ? ’ — ‘ In this instance it means all vegetables.’ ‘ Tell me a vegetable.’ — 
 ‘ A cabbage.’ ‘ Everyone tell me a vegetable.' This rouses them up. ‘ What 
 are the uses of vegetables ? ’ — ‘ We eat them.’ ‘ What vegetables do we 
 chiefly eat ? ’ — ‘ Cora, potatoes.’ ‘ What other use ? ’ — ‘ To clothe us.’ ‘ What 
 other ? ’ — ‘ To build houses, to make fires, to build ships, &e ’ ‘ How good 
 was God in thus supplying our needs ! ’ The same about animals, fish, &c. 
 Questions may be multiplied indefinitely if you get the trick of it. This, 
 however, is just to rouse and amuse them; it may easily be made more 
 serious — the fall of man — disobedience to God. ‘ If I were to swear or 
 break the Sabbath, what should I do?’ — ‘ Disobey God.’ ‘How so?’ ‘Point 
 out the commandments,’ &c. Then offer a reward for another text to be 
 found against next Sunday to the same effect — the Sabbath, for instance — 
 
 ‘ I will give a halfpenny to anyone who will find the first mention of the 
 seventh day and the blessing of it.’ — (Genesis ii, 1, 2, 3.) Then the next 
 Sunday about the manna, giving them a hint and perhaps the book, and may 
 be the chapter, where it is to be found. Then, whenever it is possible, a 
 word of feeling exhortation thrown in — how blessed is obedience, &c., &c. 
 Well, all this done, I hurry away the Bibles and make a great treat by a bit 
 of a story, asking thousands of questions too foolish to repeat. If aunt 
 Cunningham goes to Nortlirepps, get her to give all your classes (and you) a 
 general lesson — she opened my eyes to the knack ! ” 
 
 Eennyhill, November 14. 
 
 To her Mother. — “ Yesterday, we had for us a mite of gaiety — nine young 
 ladies to tea ! I thought I would try and wake up these half-alive damsels, 
 so have got them to form a little Dorcas Society, which is to meet once 
 
RENNYHILL LIFE. 
 
 1837. set. 29. 
 
 129 
 
 a-month, to work for the poor. They came at six. Tea in the dining- 
 room, of course shy enough, but melted under the influence of the children, 
 and the Laird’s sociability — with tea and cake. At seven we adjourned to 
 the drawing-room, all settled round the table — work was prepared — I talked 
 to them, and we formed our Society ; then the master came and read the 
 negro report, and we expounded and explained, and astonished their weak 
 minds ; altogether, our evening was very successful.” 
 
 November 15. 
 
 To S. M. B. — “How wonderfully welcome your delightful parcel — how 
 each thing and everything is appreciated ! You will laugh ; but nothing 
 interested me more in it than the little bit of oilcloth, bringing the dear 
 cottage passage so powerfully to my mind, with its very sights, sounds, and 
 feelings ; I kept it all the evening on the rug before me, and am going to 
 make it into a cover for the tiny table which stands by my bedside, the same 
 which held our great grandmother’s Bible during the five years she lay in 
 bed, mourning for her husband and scolding her maids. I now always wear 
 the green silk pelisse you gave me, indoors ; and every day go out in my 
 tartan pelisse, which, with its large tippet and boa, makes a capital winter 
 dress ; Shetland gloves and shoes, bonnet wadded and lined throughout. 
 (Please to observe how prudent I am !) We have had a charming walk this 
 ‘caller’ day, visiting the poor and enjoying the sight of the boats arriving 
 with their loads of beautiful small haddocks. There is a supply of pleasant 
 objects out of doors, and a natural simplicity and zest in the ways of things 
 here, v'hich is delightful to me. * * * 
 
 “ In all important concerns, the chief thing is not to act unripely in 
 any measure ; not the main, for surely the first, second, and third advice 
 is to spend all strength in craving, and seeking light, and direction out 
 of oneself. We have been going on quietly enough, not a breeze in our 
 world, except the Dorcas meeting on Monday, and the Bible meeting to- 
 morrow ; plenty to do, extreme regularity, lovely bracing w T eatlier, much of 
 each other, and our bairns, have kept us very happy. I often am impressed 
 with our blessings, especially at the w'onderful improvement in my own inward 
 happiness. Would you had seen, or I could describe a visit we paid to-day 
 
130 T. F. B. AT WEYMOUTH. 1837. set. 29. 
 
 to an old fish wife, whose daughters we thought had, as Walter Scott says, 
 ‘ slightly confused the ideas of mine and thine,’ the exclamations, the kisses, 
 the tears, the scripture, the ejaculations, the broadest Scotch of the Laird’s 
 preachment about the dochter, and the partan toes ,* were a comedy. My 
 basket was seized by main force out of my hand, and two shells thrust in 
 it by way of propitiation." 
 
 Northrepps Cottage, December 7. 
 
 From S. M. B. — “ My dearest Priscilla, — I have just been making some 
 notes for our book, of your father’s story to us yesterday. We dined at 
 the Hall, to hear the history of his visit to Weymouth, and I must report 
 them to you. I think he is looking well, and has the effect of being 
 relieved by having accomplished a good deal. On Thursday the 24th, he 
 reached Bellfield, found my uncle a little shaken by his attack. On Satur- 
 day morning, T. F. B. dressed himself in his best, with Andrew’s smart 
 blue pins, &c., ‘ quite killing,’ and with my aunt B., went to the Royal 
 Assembly Room, which was filled with grown persons, as well as with boys 
 and girls, and there he received the address from the young people, with 
 a most splendid silver box ; he was gratified and found no lack of words, 
 exhorted them, “not, as they proposed, to follow his example, but to mark 
 his advice, and he would tell them how to get on in the world, and never 
 to fail, to get good principles, and to let all their influence and energy and 
 usefulness be directed to good purposes, &c., &c.” 
 
 “ In the evening, Edward arrived. Sunday — Wyke Church, and 1 poetical 
 morals ’ from Mr. Payne. Monday, dressed again to go to the Assembly 
 Room, to receive the piece of plate ; and a most handsome candelabrum 
 it is, extremely well executed, and the three figures, Religion, Liberty, and 
 the Negro, elegant and beautiful. He was received well, and whilst he 
 addressed them, many shed tears. Two widows of his former friends, Loader 
 and Beddome, entered at the time, and he seeing them, promptly referred 
 to their husbands’ labours, and to those of his late good friend Mr. Penny. 
 I asked my brother if my aunt was pleased? ‘Yes, all said they were 
 delighted, and my aunt cried all the time ! ’ 
 
 * Small crabs. 
 
1837. set. 29. t. f. b. at weymouth, 131 
 
 “ At the dinner his party gave him, which was a pleasant one, he told 
 them he should withdraw all his annual subscriptions, amounting to T300, 
 and that Lord Villiers might pay them now; and this, like his other declara- 
 tions, was applauded ! 
 
 “ Edward afterwards made them a speech, a very good one, on the 
 pleasui'e their present would give to his mother and all the family, and 
 particularly on the satisfaction he should have in eventually possessing the 
 treasure ! 
 
 “ Many asserted that nothing would induce them to take any part in 
 another election, excepting my brother came forward, and then they pledged 
 themselves to support him. 
 
 “ The following lines appeared in the next Sherborne paper : — 
 
 ‘ Y ou did right when to Buxton you offered this treasure, 
 
 And gave to your bounty its well deserved scope ; 
 
 If by merit to others your favour you measure, 
 
 A tea-spoon will do for both Villiers and Hope. 
 
 As for Horsford and Howard, and Bower and such, 
 
 Throw a sixpence among them, ’twill pay them too much.’ 
 
 The sting of this was, that the haughty Col. H. is broughtin between the two 
 townsfolk. 
 
 “ On Tuesday, 28th, T. F. B. and E. N. B. reached Upton. Wednesday 
 met the Anti-Slavery Committee, proposed an address to Lord Glenelg on 
 the revision of the West Indian Laws, and on seven other points. On Friday 
 went to Lord Glenelg with William Allen, Josiah Forster, &c. Saturday, 
 beside other calls, 1 called on Zac.,* found him very gleesome ; he exactly 
 meets my mind,’ says your father. 
 
 “ Sunday staid at Upton ; Betsy’s sermon excellent, grounded on that 
 prayer for the Ephesians, ‘ That Christ may dwell in their hearts her 
 language admirable, ‘ smooth as skating.’ 
 
 “ S. M. Buxton.” 
 
 * Zachary Macauley, Esq. 
 
132 journal. 1837-8. set. 2D. 
 
 December 20. 
 
 P. J. to her sister C. B. — “ We were indeed delighted with dearest E.’s 
 speech at the meeting ; it was the bonne-bouche for our Dorcas ladies. I read 
 them a long rigmarole about the Kat River out of sundry magazines, registers, 
 &c., after which, Edward's delightful speech whereat they grinned for joy, 
 and clearly to me were immensely elevated at the thought of any one of the 
 party belonging to such a genius ; like a man here who said when George 
 the II. was in Edinburgh, ‘ I see’d the man who see’d the king.’ Our work 
 was next day partly distributed to the extreme satisfaction of the rheumatic 
 old wives. ‘ Eh ! but ye’re useful folk,’ was the exclamation, ‘ I fin the bield 
 (warmth) o’t already.’ ” 
 
 Northrepps, December 21. 
 
 From S. M. B. — “Your dear aunt Catherine’s visit to us (from last 
 Thursday to yesterday) answered capitally; her Christian graces are both 
 abounding and mature ; not the green ear, but the corn rich and ripe for 
 the granary. Her spiritual wisdom, experience, and faith, are good evidences 
 of her internal state ; and her increasing humility and patience, as well as 
 her confiding and affectionate dependence both on God and man, must 
 endear her with redoubled fervour to all our hearts. Our family readings 
 have been delightful in her hands. Her company also was most valuable 
 to us — I felt her influence so good, healing, and cheering — and I believe 
 the reaction of her being so much to us, was good for her own dear self. 
 
 “S. M. B.” 
 
 Rennyhill, Sunday, January 7. — We have had full three months 
 of most regular quiet settlement since our dear English visitors 
 left us. Now I wonder that more has not been done, yet in 
 some respects it is a fair meadow that has been watered by our 
 still stream. My life has been chiefly busied in making the daily 
 wheel go round, a humble but profitable calling, and a happy one, 
 though at times my nature frets for something to show for the 
 
1838 . set. 29 . journal. 133 
 
 weeks. It is wonderful how little I have read or done of any kind, 
 except the daily guiding to the house ; amusing and teaching my 
 little Andrew, and writing home. Then, on the other hand, our 
 out-of-door avocations and objects have been regularly and very 
 happily pursued. They have comprised great numbers of visits 
 in Anstrutber and Cellardyke, mostly, I trust, tending to some 
 good. Sundry excursions about the country, and about forty 
 sketches from nature. I have also pursued my drawing pretty 
 diligently every evening ; and we have read several books on 
 education, and some of amusement, Sir W. Scott’s life, &c. Our 
 morning Bible readings have been regular and truly valuable. 
 My attempts at acquisitions have been Greek and spinning, in 
 neither of which my proficiency has been extravagant. My own 
 secret religious state has been much upon my mind, and I do trust 
 not without some effect. I have read very carefully “ The Anxious 
 Inquirer,” and am now going through “Owen on Spiritual Minded- 
 ness” — a searching and trying book ; may it indeed be to the 
 stirring up of my soul ! Our Sunday Schools have prospered ; 
 and to-day we parted with twenty-seven children who have been 
 regularly taught, and I do believe to some good purpose. I may 
 say, great has been our measure of domestic peace, increasing 
 unity, and sense of blessing in our happy marriage : our darlings 
 all we can desire : I, wonderful in my own health, able to walk 
 some miles, and stronger than I have ever been. One of the 
 leading interests and objects of the year has been the very tiny 
 commencement of my boy’s education. 0 what a delicate and 
 
VOYAGE. 
 
 J 34 
 
 1838. set. 30. 
 
 what a most important work to begin, that which we trust is 
 never to end, but to grow into the influence of the whole man. 
 My dearest husband has been happy, and hard at work ; his anchor 
 quite steady, whether in storm or in calm. The people are so 
 fond of him ; and his opportunities of usefulness are great, the 
 very language he talks to them giving him such influence. Now 
 my heart is quite overflowing with the most joyful prospect of 
 soon being again with my beloved mother, I feel as if it would 
 be a sort of Heaven to be once more with her. Oh ! may it 
 be so. 
 
 Northrepps, March 11. — We left our home in bright, calm 
 frost, on Wednesday, January 17, reached Dundee, and sailed in 
 all pro, spoil ty and hope ; however, misery soon came — and with- 
 out dwelling on the particulars, very, very great was our misery 
 till Sunday morning, when we landed at Blackwall — a breakage 
 in the boiler which made us go back one hundred miles, and 
 intense cold, &c. ; so that I hope we never again shall try a winter 
 passage. We were received with overflowing kindness at Upton, 
 and here a most joyful meeting ! Edward came in a day or two, 
 and one glorious week the whole of us had together. 
 
 We reached this place on the 26th January. 
 
 On A. G.’s helping T. F. B. in some of his work : — 
 
 The Cottage, March, 1S3S. 
 
 S. M. B. to P. J — “ My dearest, dearest Priscilla, — With the grand 
 productions of my partner’s genius I must send a little note; and now that 
 the work for this immediate occasion, seems pretty well accomplished by 
 
1838. ast. 30. “cousin anna.” 135 
 
 her and her amanuensis, I may write without constraint. I am so glad 
 I have not teased you with an anxious line ; hut I have not been insensible 
 to the risk for my partner’s health ; and I have my fears that her nerves 
 might give way before it quite suited our tender Master's convenience to 
 allow a pause — his love and sweetness and willing approbation of her talents 
 and of the little degree of service she renders him are as perfect as can be, 
 only that he can be too stimulating to her. She would — she does — heartily 
 unite with you and me in wishing ardently to meet his mind, to please him, 
 to save him trouble, and so to prolong his life. How glad I shall be if this 
 parcel does gratify him ! and if so, you and I may take the credit of it. 
 She would never have come forward if I had not smoothed the way and 
 made her feel that you would like her as a fellow-labourer. My partner 
 h3s not even some days gone to the garden door to feed the shell ducks, 
 and neither rest nor food could she bend to ; even 1 think for a dozen hours 
 almost without a break. * * * For courage and solace under every care, 
 
 I can only seek so to steady my faith on Christ, and pray that we may so 
 love Him — so feel that we live, move, and have our being in Him — that 
 we may be satisfied at the disposal of all our members. He is the Head : 
 and we may hope we are portions of His body ; and He cares for all ! 
 Farewell ! 
 
 Upton Cottage, May 9. — We have trodden a varied path 
 since I wrote. Two more valuable months have been lent us, 
 and have slipped from us. On Monday, 30th, we came to this 
 sweet cottage — a most opportune nest provided for us — our dearest 
 parents with Edward, and we all almost living together. 
 
 “ Upton, May 17. 
 
 “ My dearest Anna, 
 
 “ Though sorely tired, I must tell you that yesterday the Aborigines 
 meeting went off in fine style. It was a very small meeting, but what it 
 wanted in body it made up in soul. It was all spirit, facts, zeal, fervour, and 
 
136 RENNYHILL. 1838. set. 30. 
 
 excellent speeches. My father spoke for an hour ‘ out of Miss Gurney’ he 
 says. Uncle Gurney uttered the musical voice of the Earlham race beauti- 
 fully, and the Society has got a nice launch. It is odd, and we are very proud 
 to think of the moving spring down at the cottage built to shoot pheasants, 
 now employed to stir continents! That meeting, and all its soul, would not 
 have been but for Miss G. I think aunt Sarah may be pi-oud ; her partner 
 only looks sulky, I dare say, and teases Wamba. Andrew is working like a 
 slave, and it is well, but what labour there will be in cutting down the much 
 too much they are piling together ! I only hope — 
 
 ‘ That the children at Northrepps will take pleasure in breaking 
 What the children at Upton take pleasure in making.’ 
 
 “ Most lovingly, 
 
 “P. J.” 
 
 Sunday Evening, June 10. — I do not like to conclude our six 
 weeks in this sweet little home, without a word of grateful 
 acknowledgment. We have been greatly favoured, and I have 
 enjoyed some truly happy hours. We as yet see not our future 
 clearly ; but we are sure the bounds of our habitation are fixed, 
 and will be given us in mercy and wisdom, and blessed for me. 
 
 Rennyhill, July 30.- — We have had a delightful journey home ; 
 I can hardly say how much so ; there was a glow granted to 
 me, especially, for which I did and do feel most thankful ; such 
 a lively pleasure in seeing all the well known places, and in 
 returning to our sweet home. It was one of the days of a 
 merry heart. This place looking most inviting, gay and ver- 
 dant, and greatly improved by our clearings away of last year : 
 the house in complete order, clean and comfortable. Wednesday 
 is the 1st of August, and a glorious day always ; but, above all, 
 
HAPPY LIFE. 
 
 ] 838. set. 30. 
 
 13/ 
 
 this year, when all, we believe, of the West Indian slaves will 
 be finally and fully set free. Our hearts rejoice, though we are 
 curiously cut off from the triumph ; but if good is done, may 
 we be heartily willing, like our noble father, to be forgotten. It 
 is indeed a wonderful work effected ; may it continue to be 
 blessed and prospered. 
 
 July 31. 
 
 P. J. to H. B. — “ I have heartily enjoyed our return ; and we have felt 
 most thankful to be not only supplied, as we are, so faithfully with our daily 
 bread, but to have the sweetmeats of life, as it were, thus added to our share ! 
 We never were so happy, I think, as we are now — our course never so clear, 
 our affairs never in such good order ; and oh ! no election or Parliament in 
 view. This is our life : — We get up at seven ; and therefore I am quite 
 ready for my porridge just before reading at half-past eight. At ten we read 
 together delightfully, and at eleven I have the children, the interim filled 
 with my own serious book, often in the garden. After the little lessons, I 
 read to Sophy, and give the hour from twelve to one to letters, accounts, etc., 
 walking, resting, my own entertaining book, and the children, fill up my 
 easy, indulgent life till dinner, the children and music till tea, then reading, 
 drawing, and work.” 
 
 Rennyhill, August 1. 
 
 P. J. to her Mother. — “ I surely must write on this date, whatever 
 happens ; and what a bright, delightful day it is ! Everything seems to 
 smile ; may everything be smiling in the West Indies, and on you, and 
 on all our dear interests ! We are loaded with roses, and everything most 
 verdant. We had a valuable Sunday at Largo ; the drive delicious, and 
 the country so very attractive. The service (communion) lasts from ten to 
 six — you may suppose I should not call it nice if I had that to sit through 
 — but we went out after our table, had a good luncheon and rest, and 
 returned for the end ; afterwards home. I felt it extremely serious and 
 interesting ; the exhortations were most striking and instructive ; and the 
 
138 MRS. FRY. 1838 . set. 30 . 
 
 general demeanor of the people and feeling of the thing even more so. 
 There were above six hundred communicants. I need not say how we 
 have felt the return of this happy day ; I have heartily longed to be with 
 my dearest father on it. Pray send us the Patriot , or anything, to tell 
 what anybody has done or said about it.” 
 
 Aunt Fry’s visit : — 
 
 “ Rennyhill, August 27. 
 
 “ Where shall I begin ? First in raptures at my delicious pen ; my 
 father is a present-giver indeed — three cards full ! My life will be the 
 happier for them — a thousand thanks — and then the book, the book (‘ Slave- 
 Trade and its Remedy,’ T. F. B.) ; its exterior is beautiful indeed, and most 
 stylish, not, I think, quite so ‘fat’ as I expected — altogether, it looks most 
 attractive ; but we have not yet had time even to read the preface, our guests 
 have occupied us so entirely. Well, now, to turn to them, great were our 
 preparations; everything we could devise was sent for, orders reiterated, 
 beds, rooms, desks, examined over and over again, dinners, breakfasts, 
 suppers, all arranged ; in short, I may say we did our utmost best, and 
 never yet had our house in such order for any of our visitors ; often did I 
 think of myself — 
 
 ‘A frugal mouse upon tlie whole, 
 
 Yet loved his friend and had a soul; 
 
 Knew what was handsome, and would do’t, 
 
 On just occasion cotite que co&te.' 
 
 “ On Friday we journeyed down to the pier at Anstruther, where, after 
 watching two steamers pass, the third stopped, and John Sanderson's white 
 broad brim soon comforted our eyes. We got them all up safely on the 
 pier, and we ladies came here in an omnibus. Fires were in their rooms 
 and in the drawing-room, fresh flowers, and all bright, and the place, I 
 must say, looked sweet ; the garden so cheerful and gay, all had been 
 brushed up — gates, roads, and all. They were very tired, and all went to 
 bed soon after nine. This we just enjoyed, it was really making us useful. 
 Next day I was a great deal with aunt Fry in her room ; and we had our 
 
1838. set. 30. 
 
 MRS. FRY. 
 
 139 
 
 first Fife dinner party of fourteen — three lairds and their wives, aunt Fry 
 and her two squires, and others. It all went off beautifully ; aunt Fry 
 was as charming as herself. When we went upstairs, our tea company 
 (ten more) flocked in. Aunt Fry talked to the ladies before the gentlemen 
 came up, and the fascination began to spread. We led her into a speech, 
 after tea and coffee, which soon riveted everybody ; and, by a few timely 
 questions and feigned ignorance on our part, we got her to tell all about 
 Edinburgh and Aberdeen, then Newgate, then Paris, till all were quite 
 bewitched — their faces were quite droll to look at ; and pressing invitations, 
 love, gratitude, and admiration poured in. 
 
 “Next day (Sunday), in the evening, we went to the public meeting, 
 which we found moved from the appointed place to a larger dissenting 
 meeting-house, which held about six hundred. Aunt Fry and her com- 
 panions sat in the reading desk ; we on the steps, as close as possible. It 
 was crammed — the heat and suffocation extreme ; but nothing could exceed 
 the beauty of both manner and matter. 
 
 “ I have been thankful to have a good deal of her company. We took 
 one long walk on the shore yesterday morning. I was with her almost 
 entirely before they went off : she certainly was most delightful all through — 
 whether her abilities or her sweetness are more remarkable, I hardly know. 
 I am proud, as you may suppose, of showing off such an aunt ; and every- 
 body’s admiration of her was extravagant enough to satisfy even me. I can- 
 not say how wonderful she is — more wonderful than ever — a perfect genius. 
 
 From her cousin Anna, who was abroad at this time with 
 S. M. B.:— 
 
 “ Dijon, September 3. 
 
 “ We passed a curious week in the Highlands, (the Oberland), it rained 
 two days out of the seven, yet we visited both the glaciers of Grindelwald, 
 and were carried upon the farthest and largest, and I into the cave whence 
 the torrent issues into the very blue ice chamber alongside the gulf, a 
 position in which no chair had ever been placed before ; but I had, among 
 my seven supporters, three of the five Chamois hunters who had scaled 
 
 U 
 
140 LETTER FROM A. G. 1838 . set. 30 . 
 
 the Jungfrau, another man roughing the ice for their feet. Your aunt, 
 however, saw they, even they, had had enough of it, so did not ask them 
 to repeat the feat with her, but they carried us both some way up the 
 glacier where it was plain sailing, and where they only wanted a few 
 notches chopped for their feet ! Her quotation afterwards (I will do her 
 taste the justice to say, not at the time) was, 
 
 ‘ Two children sliding on the ice, 
 
 All on a summer’s day ! ’ 
 
 “ The day was wretched, it rained so pouringlyas we were going, that the 
 very goats shook their beards at us from the doors into which they had run 
 for shelter; however, just as we got to the spot, it held up, another proof of 
 the advantage of obstinacy. That was one feat, Priscilla ! but it was not the 
 best; we have been carried in two open chairs all over the Wengern Alps, 
 under the Eiger and the Jungfrau, a splendid day all across from Grindelwald 
 to Lauterbrunen. The feat there, was in performing the passage after eleven, 
 which is generally begun at six in the morning, I have been in one of my 
 tantrums at the rumour of war between France and Switzerland, (no very 
 pleasant prospect), and gave way to Gurney vacillation till I lost five good 
 hours, and then cried at having disappointed myself ; but after all we started 
 with a prime guide — ‘ a broth of a boy.’ At the Scheideck we saw an 
 avalanche, coming as if it had been ordered on purpose, but even the 
 avalanche was nothing to the abiding glories of that scene. * * * 
 
 “ Ever yours, 
 
 “ A. G.” 
 
 September 14. 
 
 To A. G. and S. M. B., on their arrival from abroad. — “ The history of 
 your adventures, and of your being carried on to the glacier, and aunt Sarah's 
 quotation so exactly like herself, how I have enjoyed ! I am sure it was a 
 wonder that the second couplet was not as true as the first. ‘ It so fell out they 
 all fell in,’ but it makes me shudder to think of it. This has been certainly 
 the most successful of all your journeys, and what a double mercy is this, 
 after the frights and anxieties of last year. I trust we shall be stirred up by 
 
1838. set. 30. 
 
 JOURNAL. 
 
 141 
 
 these great mercies, to fresh zeal of heart in the great things ; I do so desire 
 that we may not stop short of this in our enjoyments and thankfulness. 
 Rennyhill has been to me next to faultless this year ; the country is now 
 lovely with harvest, just beginning with great spirit ; our garden bright and 
 cheerful, few appearances of autumn yet, though I do see the Virginian creeper 
 just beginning to blush, and as the old gardener said tome, ‘ the robin is 
 singing of autumn.' ” 
 
 September 23. — How has it been my desire that we may indeed 
 practically know Jesus as the Shepherd of our souls, leading us 
 into green pastures and beside still waters, feeding us, guiding 
 us, protecting us; and oh! how tenderly have I felt that point 
 in the description — “ He shall carry the lambs in his bosom ” ; may 
 they indeed, body and soul, circumstances and dispositions, be 
 carried in His bosom ! how safely may we leave them there — how 
 fully yield them up to those tender arms ! I desire, while striving 
 to the utmost for their good, to keep off excessive anxiety by this 
 thought : His they are, and carried in His bosom ; may we all 
 be as little children too. 
 
 About twenty minutes for prayer I find fully short for all 
 my many wants — for husband, children, servants, parents, sisters, 
 aunts, uncles, &c., <fcc., self, the slaves, slave-trade, our schools, and 
 all efforts : may my prayers be made spiritual enough ! How 
 wonderful are the Scripture encouragements ! I have much felt 
 that word “importunity”; may I be indeed importunate for the 
 blessings I most need for myself and others. I have much felt 
 that verse — “We which have believed do enter unto rest.” 0 
 may I know this rest of soul and spirit, now, and for ever. 
 
1 12 
 
 INFANT SCHOOL. 
 
 1838. set. 30. 
 
 Rennyhill, September 27. 
 
 To C. E. H. — * * * “ I think it is right to take pains to cultivate the 
 eyes and ears of children for nature — the flowers, clouds, sea, birds, all help. 
 I do not so much point out to my children as express my own pleasure and 
 admiration, and it is caught in a moment ; also, I think if young children 
 are afraid of the dark, the weakness ought to be most tenderly dealt with, 
 by perhaps walking about the house together without a candle, talking and 
 telling stories, and enjoying the quiet dark. Our lessons are very pleasant ; 
 we have to-day finished the second page of three-letter words, and I think 
 shall begin them again. We spell, look at pictures in infantine knowledge, 
 read over the alphabet, and, for a treat, find and mark all the o's or any 
 other letter in a page. Then Scripture illustrations ; we look at a picture 
 and talk about it — one picture lasts us several days. Sunday is made very 
 much of a treat : the cake, clean clothes, a large picture Bible, walks with 
 papa and mamma in the garden — we quite count the days till it will be 
 Sunday.” 
 
 “ Rennyhill, October 16. 
 
 “ Yesterday, to our great pleasure, our Infant School began with twenty- 
 four, who came with their parents, and many lookers-on. We had taken 
 many journeys and bestowed much pains in preparing and fitting up the 
 room, and it was very pretty. Armed with a parcel of raisins, I went about. 
 We had some speechifying, singing, &c. Andrew made an excellent address 
 to the parents, wrote down the names, and took the first pence. Then, 
 with care, we slipped the parents away; but oh! when the truth broke upon 
 the brats’ minds that they were alone with the mistress and me, oh ! the 
 unparalleled roaring : I am sure English children could not have yelled 
 with the same perseverence and in the same sort of business-like way. 
 Raisins being done, in despair I called out of the window to some one to get 
 some sweeties; and at length, by coaxing, singing, ringing of bells, &c., &c.> 
 they were tolerably quieted, except about five little toads who collected 
 round the door, kicked, and stamped, and bellowed, scratching then- heads 
 all the time most vehemently, so that I now well know what ‘tearing of 
 hair’ means. One little fair boy, with white hair and rosy cheeks, threw 
 
] 838. set. 30. 
 
 LEAVING RENNYHILL. 
 
 143 
 
 back bis bead, settled bis moutb wide open, and began one continuous and 
 deafening yell. At length, being quite bewildered, and every moment afraid 
 of all tbe rest joining in chorus, we yielded, and let the rebels out — whether 
 they will ever be brought back, I doubt. My children came in in the 
 middle; their dear clean faces and wondering stare entertained me not a 
 little. To-day I have not heard whether the storm has subsided.” 
 
 “ October 19. 
 
 “ We have been down — rather in fear and trembling, to see, as it were, 
 ‘ Daniel in the Lion’s Den,’ and to know how poor Mrs. Taylor was faring. 
 ‘ Weel, bairns, how's a’ wi ye the day?’ ‘We’re a’ greetin thegither,’ was the 
 reply, in a most blubbering tone.” 
 
 “ October 25. 
 
 “ Well, here we are, within two days of our departure from this dear 
 place. We have had a busy week — on Monday our principal packing of all 
 heavy things — and of course heaps of business collecting at last, in spite 
 of every attempt to get them out of the way beforehand : many, many 
 take-leave calls to pay — eighteen yesterday ! The great warmth of feeling 
 shown was delightful ; and the clear evidence of some little measure of 
 harvest among them, more this year than before, I think. We were delighted 
 to hear of some of our infant rebels now crying to go to the school, and the 
 dread of being kept away held out as the worst punishment by their parents 
 The Sunday School, too, greatly cheered up.” 
 
 Northrepps, December 2. — We sailed from Dundee and 
 had a noble passage of thirty hours till we stopped off Cromer 
 light about six on Thursday evening. Well, after many miseries 
 and fears, the Cromer boat was alongside ; more than joyful was 
 our jump on to Cromer sands about half-past nine. Mr. H. 
 Johnson was there ; we hurried up to Tucker’s, and crowded 
 round the blazing wood fire till a carriage was ready, in which 
 we had a truly joyful drive up here ; stopped at the pond for 
 
NORTHREPPS. 
 
 
 144 
 
 1838-9. set. 30. 
 
 fear of a start, Mr. J. ran in the back way, found them all in 
 at reading, but in a very few minutes my father and Chenda 
 came tearing out ; and, amidst acclamations of all kinds, we got 
 into the drawing-room. It was one of the memorably happy 
 hours of life, and oh ! what cause of thankfulness. I know life is 
 and must be a pilgrimage, may I therefore fix my eyes and 
 thoughts cheerfully on the rest which remaineth where perfect 
 peace shall flow as a river, and we shall bear the image of the 
 heavenly as we now bear that of the earthly. To leave myself, 
 my precious mother has been in delicate health, and I have 
 suffered accordingly ; but she is better and has got out again. 
 
 I I am drawn towards her by ties too tender for expression ; how 
 far am I from equalling her ! Last week my dearest father and 
 husband spent in London, engaged about the slave trade, a crisis 
 of immense importance, so immense that our minds can hardly 
 grasp it. May the Almighty arm indeed be stretched forth for its 
 aid, to guide, prosper, and control the efforts of man ; and may our 
 dearest ones be permitted to see in some degree the labour of their 
 hands and the travail of their souls. 
 
 Fowell Buxton Johnston was born at Northrepps, Jan. 5, 1839. 
 The following extracts refer to the prospect of settling at 
 Halesworth : — 
 
 “ February, 12. 
 
 “ My father is going off by mail to Mr. Gurney — what air important crisis 
 to us ! I feel the magnitude of it to be almost too great to cope with. Oh ! 
 may it be undertaken by stronger hands than ours, and wiser counsels 
 followed than we can furnish ! This interview will settle our course : 
 
] 839. ait. 30-31. 
 
 HALESWORTH. 
 
 145 
 
 probably be will not return till to-morrow evening after shooting at 
 Feltkorpe ; his. prayer this morning for guidance and blessing was most 
 striking.” 
 
 “February 14. 
 
 “ Well, my father is returned, and his news fills my whole heart and 
 thoughts. We are to go to Hnlesworth. Andrew has fixed to begin there on 
 the 5th of April. As for poor me and my brood, I know not what we shall do ; 
 but most resolved am I to bear discomforts with cheerfulness and quietness 
 of spirit; and may my earnest desires for help in this, and for a blessing 
 on our great change of life, be granted. The pain and drawback lie almost 
 entirely in breaking away from this most dear home, and in Andrew’s giving 
 up his privileged post with my father. Alas ! alas ! there will be the need 
 of an aide-de-camp ! I can truly say that great as are the advantages of the 
 change, I can only meet it on the serious belief that our way has been 
 ordered for us, our path appointed, and we cannot safely follow any other.” 
 
 To a looker on there seems nothing but prosperity in the 
 thing, hut I can truly say it is fraught with exercise of faith, 
 patience, and submission, and the secret tearings of it are not 
 few. We have had lamentable letters from Scotland ; there in- 
 deed is a thorough pang, yet it is one I am most thankful to 
 feel prepared for ; but at Northrepps never again can we hope 
 to be living. 
 
 Sunday, May 5. — This most lovely spring day, watching my 
 little ones at play under the trees, can my mind be otherwise 
 than peaceful, thankful, and joyful. Life is too interesting, 
 too full for this. I cannot stop for the quantities I might 
 say, but just to record our wonderfully interesting morning. 
 After reading in Peter, &c., my father’s prayer such an extraordi- 
 nary epitome of all our state and interests, family, personal, and 
 
— 
 
 146 
 
 SEPARATIONS. 
 
 1839. set. 31. 
 
 public ; his thanksgivings for our and our children’s long stay 
 with them ; his prayer for each of his children, for his grand- 
 children, for our settlement at Halesworth. 
 
 Nortlirepps Cottage, Sunday, May 12. 
 
 From her aunt Sarah Maria Buxton. — “ My dear Priscilla, — A word, and 
 supper, and bed. My partner, with an uneasy ankle, in spirits with herself 
 and the morals of Africa. 
 
 “ My Sabbath began joyously, but, since my return from our pleasant 
 church, has clouded over, though your father’s visit was truly an indulgent 
 pleasure. The most cheering sense or thought to-day to myself has been 
 the consideration of the omnipresence of Christ. To the angels, to the 
 spirits of the happy, as I have read somewhere lately, you cannot pray, for 
 you know not where to find them, and they are not everywhere; but in 
 our Lord’s omniscience we can never be confounded.” 
 
 On the 20th of May her father and mother left Nortlirepps 
 for London, and she went with her children to pay a visit at 
 the Cottage, before starting for Halesworth. 
 
 “Nortlirepps, May 20. 
 
 “ My dearest Husband, 
 
 “ I must send thee a line this morning from this truly desolate house. 
 Our precious parents started before five this truly lovely and favourable day, 
 and we trust are now far on their way. My mother was but middling 
 yesterday, but thought herself nicely this morning. Things wound up 
 satisfactorily. Nothing, I think, could well exceed my father’s whole mind 
 and company — so extremely rich and interesting— and really in good heart 
 and courage, thinking himself very forward with his second volume, and 
 feeling his course very clear before him ; 0 may it prove so ! His reading 
 and prayer last night, and also his prayer with us in the morning, were 
 memorable ; truly wonderful is the spirit he carries to his work — a mixture 
 
1839. set. 31. halesworth. 147 
 
 of intense zeal with the closest dependence. I have borne it pretty well, 
 though I must feel it through and through me, as it were.” 
 
 At the Cottage, she spent a happy, quiet fortnight — cared for, 
 and indeed “spoilt” (as she herself expressed it). After she left, 
 S. M. B. ■writes : — 
 
 “ Do, my choicest, dearest niece, make allowance for our entire failure in 
 telling you of our love and delight in you and yours. We are almost too 
 intimately bound up into one, as to our families, for it to be easy to say 
 afresh how we love each other; and, as you say, life is too short for it. 
 
 “ Yours, 
 
 “ S. M. B.” 
 
 Just after her arrival at Halesworth : — 
 
 June 21. 
 
 To her Mother. — “I must say that, in spite of outward confusion and 
 bustle without end, there is a bottom of calmness and peace in my heart — 
 of satisfaction and comfort — a sense of rightness and favour in our allot- 
 ment ; may I be thankful for it ! The house is very much what I expected, 
 but in some respects decidedly superior. This drawing-room is very pleasant, 
 and will become a delightful room. 
 
 “ I am quite well, and really bright. In yielding to everything, I find 
 wonderful rest and ease. I cannot express how my father and his work 
 (‘Slave-Trade and its Remedy’) are in my heart. The book is certainly 
 wonderful — most heart-touching ; it is indeed a torch worthy to kindle one 
 of the greatest flames that ever burnt. * * * Please, dearest C., a letter 
 of gossip, for I have some soul left, though my brain is overrun with stair- 
 rods, drugget, &c., &c. I must tell you of our visitors on Tuesday. Uncle 
 Cunningham set off at seven to come here, go to a sale in the neighbourhood, 
 then on to a Bible meeting. Aunt C. saw him off, then ran to the shore 
 to bathe ; going back, she met an old gentleman’s carriage, and ran up to 
 ask the coachman how his master was ? — ‘ My master is very well, and going 
 to spend the day at Halesworth.’ With Gurney genius, she saw and con- 
 
148 MRS. CUNNINGHAM. 1839. ffit. 31. 
 
 trived it all in a moment, flew home, dressed, breakfasted, and was here 
 by eleven ! Uncle C. leisurely stalked in about twelve, and was afresh 
 convinced of bis wife being a very uncommon one ! In the evening she 
 popped off again with her old beau of ninety-five ! who, she says, is a 
 wonderful man, and explained to her ‘ about the Reformation' (meaning the 
 Reform Bill). 
 
 “As to us, we are really beginning to feel a little bomeisb, and I can 
 quite conceive that some day I shall love Halesworth." 
 
 July 20. 
 
 From her Aunt Catherine Gurney. — * * * “ My thoughts and 
 
 feelings are much occupied with your concerns, and my sympathies all 
 alive to your crosses ; but our Heavenly Father can alone determine 
 and appoint for us the needful discipline. His ways are certainly ‘ not as 
 our ways ’ in these matters ; but we are assured that ‘ He performetli all 
 things for us,’ and that ‘ He will perfect all that concerns us ’ — how great 
 is the consolation of this! ‘He appoints the bounds of our habitation’ — 
 what a relief from care and sorrow is it to resign ourselves wholly to His 
 disposal — to give ourselves up implicitly to His guidance. This is what 
 I know you are doing ; and I trust a choice blessing, in some way or other, 
 will be upon you in all your goings. We little know the bearings and 
 connections of events, and are in fact in no degree judges why such and 
 such things are appointed for us, rather than what we should have chosen 
 for ourselves. ‘ Duties are ours : events are God’s,’ as Cecil says ; and we 
 may sum up the whole by Job xxiii, 8 — 14. This passage is quite radiant, 
 to my apprehension. With abundance of love. 
 
 “ Thy most affectionate, 
 
 “C. G.” 
 
 The last note from her aunt Sarah : — 
 
 “July 31. 
 
 “ My dearest Priscilla, 
 
 “ The best return I can make for the gift of your letter yesterday is, 
 to manage that you shall have a cheering epistle to hail you on your wedding 
 anniversary ! Surely the first thing is, to acknowledge all the many favours 
 
J 839. set. 31. death of s. m. b. 149 
 
 bestowed upon us, especially your father's amendment. Last night at 
 Edward’s he was many degrees better, and we parted at ten o’clock in good 
 spirits ; and your faithful father’s last inquiry was, who would engage to 
 write to you to-day? We enjoyed our evening, sitting round the fire, and 
 he telling us all his history We shall indeed think of you to-morrow. 
 
 “Most lovingly, 
 
 “ S. M. B.” 
 
 Under no apprehension of increasing illness, her aunt, with her 
 faithful “ partner,” went to Clifton, where she sank suddenly and 
 rapidly, and died on the 18 th of August. The following extracts 
 are here inserted as a slight record of her end: — 
 
 Tuesday, August 20. 
 
 From A. G. — “ My dearest Priscilla, — I am wishing to write you and 
 Andrew a word or two, though I now have lost hold of a few things I had 
 marked down to write to you. I find even my memory a good deal shaken. 
 I have sense enough to feel the greatness of your sorrow an aggravation 
 of misery. The thing on which I rest, in feeling as well as in sight, is her 
 heavenly expression of countenance, the most sainted look, all her very best 
 remaining, and free from pain — perfect repose and much beyond it. It 
 would seem as if the glorified body were already given me in possession for 
 a little moment, as a foretaste of what I shall meet her. 1 She hath kept the 
 faith,’ beaming from every line of her exceedingly beautiful and serene 
 countenance. From the calming influence of it, I dare not separate myself. 
 The doctor who saw her on Sunday expressed to me how exceedingly he had 
 been struck by her then ; he saw at once she was a person of superior mind ; 
 her manner was so gracious during that night of dimness and distress, he 
 says she must have been a person of most energetic mind to keep up such 
 a tone on Sunday with no pulse. May you be safe and resting : we are — one 
 of us is, we know. I am doing well, not the least let down, however, from 
 the pitch to which I was screwed. It is rather painful to feel so sternly 
 proof against emotion of any kind. I feel dead to the world in the common 
 
1 50 DEATH OF S. M. B. 1839. set. 31. 
 
 sense of things, but not dead to your mother; there to me is the least 
 dreamy feeling, for I could tremble when I think of her.” 
 
 P. J. reached Clifton on the 21st of August, and the following 
 extract is from a letter to her mother: — 
 
 “ Clifton, August 22. 
 
 “ A most wonderful scene indeed are we in ; but O may we be 
 thankful the case is what it is ! that for her our hope is certaint}', and 
 that her end was peace. How can I possibly describe Anna? she is herself. 
 The most extraordinary power shown, both in grief and action. The contrast 
 between the deep stillness, the solemn calm, and almost ethereal look of 
 the one, and the power, the vigour of mind and body and feeling in the 
 other is wonderful. She will follow the hearse. She settles everything — 
 hymns, tunes, everything. She is most tender about you ; and is indeed 
 an exaggeration of herself, yet does behave so well ! The precious remains 
 were truly lovely — refined, intellectual, almost spiritual ; and oh ! the picture 
 of the two. Anna clung to the coffin ; and Edward said it was like that 
 expression — ‘ Free among the dead.’ She was like a mother over her child 
 with it. Our dearest aunt’s whole dress and appearance were truly saintly ; 
 and the delicate white and deep stillness, the speaking calm of the one, 
 against the large person, deep mourning, and rather impetuous grief of the 
 other, was a sight never to forget.” 
 
 In her journal she thus writes : — 
 
 We went to Northrepps on the 19th of August; they so 
 delighted to see us ; and the meeting altogether especially bright. 
 Our evening ended over Anna’s education paper, and we went to 
 bed little expecting the events of the night. At two o’clock in the 
 morning my father came into our room, bringing the letter-sum- 
 mons from Dr. Ash, sent off from Bristol at six o’clock on Sunday 
 
1839. set. 31. AT clifton. 151 
 
 morning. Soon we fixed that my father and I should go off 
 directly. We prepared quickly, and were off in the carriage before 
 four. On our way we heard in the road from a passenger in the 
 down “ Telegraph,” the tidings that all was over, that my precious 
 aunt was indeed gone. The pain of it cannot be expressed ; our 
 journey was most melancholy. We arrived at Upton, and the 
 next morning W. E. Forster and I went off and reached the 
 Royal Hotel, Clifton. In two days I returned to London, 
 and found my dearest father in the very press of his work, 
 looking most sadly worn with toil and sorrow. He had had the 
 fullest of days ; it was curious that they seemed a turning point 
 in his cause. He and the Committee had made up their minds 
 what to ask of the Government, and this he had to write down 
 and present the next day. At half-past three in the morning, 
 being unable to sleep, he called me, and I wrote for him till near 
 seven. We accomplished a very good letter, which was well 
 worth while, and I was already so tired that nothing could 
 tire me more. 
 
 September 2. 
 
 Letter to C. E. IT., from her Sister-in-Law, A. Hoare. — “ My dearest 
 Catherine, — I will send you the account of the funeral. The day was so 
 lovely, the sea, the woods, everything looking to perfection ; a 'contrast, 
 indeed, to the mournful hearts and countenances of all. Most painful to 
 us all was it going into the cottage. Cousin Anna was in the room they 
 used to sleep in ; the bed is taken down. She was sitting in her wheel 
 chair, with dear aunt Sarah’s couch in the room ; she was wonderfully 
 calm when we went in, and looking just like herself, but she immediately 
 burst into tears, and a most affecting interview we had. At about twelve 
 
152 
 
 THE FUNERAL. 
 
 1839. set. 31. 
 
 we all assembled in the drawing-room (at the cottage), in the midst of which 
 was the coffin. When we were all seated, Cousin Anna wheeled in, her 
 countenance bespeaking immense effort. She was perfectly calm, however, 
 she went up to the coffin and kept her arm steadily on it the whole time. 
 Can you not fancy the room, the sun shining brightly in ? Just as silence 
 and perfect stillness had commenced, poor Spot crept into the room; you 
 cannot think the painful feeling even that little incident gave. Hannah, 
 by cousin Anna’s orders, put the poor creature out, and all was still again. 
 Uncle Forster spoke very sweetly; afterwards cousin Anna, in the most 
 impressive, solemn, and affecting manner, bearing on the coffin : I think 
 she began something in these words — ‘ O Lord, now that my partner’s 
 lips are closed, enable me to implore Thy blessing on all those she so dearly 
 loved.’ She then prayed that her influence might remain amongst us ; 
 and it was a most solemn time, and deeply impressive. Cousin Anna 
 went in her own carriage with uncle Buxton. The loveliness of the day, 
 the procession of fifteen carriages moving slowly down the road among 
 the crowds of people, the soft voices of the children at every pause, and 
 the deep melancholy over all, made it a most striking, touching time- 
 After the service in the Church we all walked round into those dear 
 ruins; the sight itself was most interesting — cousin Anna herself at the 
 head of the grave, in her chair, perfectly calm, the coffin placed at the 
 foot, we all collected round. Mr. Carr read the service beautifully; and 
 uncle Cunningham addressed the people before we left the grave, and 
 then we moved away.” 
 
 To P. J. from A. Gf. — Alone at the cottage — “ We had a gale on Thurs- 
 day night, which increased my sense of desolation. The storm without 
 was a different pastime when there w r as sunshine within to return to. I 
 am a little weaker, I think, than I used to be, for the gusts, though not 
 very severe, took my breath away just like waves when bathing. Was I 
 a little pleased that my timbers are not quite teak ? I have not confessed 
 it before, Priscilla, if I was. 
 
 Yours, A. Gr.” 
 
1839-40. set. 31 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 153 
 
 Halesworth, September 9. 
 
 From P. J. to Anna Gurney (Earlham). — “ It seems almost wonderful 
 to me that the common course of life should go on after such a breach in 
 our circle as it is. To some of us the practical daily loss is great indeed — I 
 feel so truly the poorer for it; she had such a ready spirit to devise 
 kindnesses; and her sympathy with me in every circumstance of life was 
 closer than I can describe. Our dearest cousin Anna’s loss is beyond our 
 fathoming — beyond, I believe, most cases of widowhood; her sorrow par- 
 takes of the strength, and most truly of the nobleness of her character ; 
 but it is not a case for common powers to cope with. To me, individually, 
 the loss is great indeed — the most loving, faithful, generous, sympathizing 
 friend — the most perfectly dependable in one way, almost in the world. I 
 do long that I may now use the sympathy between us, by following her 
 and dwelling with her where she is.” 
 
 Later in the autumn, her parents, sister, and two youngest 
 brothers, with their cousin Sarah Gurney, left England to spend 
 the winter in Rome. Cousin Anna joined them there. 
 
 Halesworth, January 2 . 
 
 To A. G. at Rome. — “ My dearest cousin Anna, — My thoughts and 
 interests are so entirely and intensely bound to your dearest party, that 
 it is a deliverance you do not hear from me every post day. Your private 
 letter has been indeed most interesting. I cannot say how I have felt for 
 you, my dearest Anna, in all the little corners in your path — all are inevitable 
 points of summarizing, as it were, one's condition ; and oh ! how deeply 
 have I felt them this time. The loss is indeed most vividly present with 
 me ; yet I am very thankful that, on the whole, my impressions are rather 
 of a stimulating, than of a damping kind ; my remembrance of her is so 
 lively — my sense of her existence and nearness also — that the influence of 
 her example and mind is perpetually upon me. How it is the case in this 
 little Bible Committee I am trying to revive ! Everything I do is what she 
 taught me, and what I think she would like. The pang does indeed return 
 
154 happy life. 1810. set. 31-2. 
 
 upon me, that I have not her to write to about it ; but how secondary is this ! 
 * * * The weather to-day is delicious — mild, fresh, and sunny — birds 
 
 singing, and everything sprouting, honeysuckle in leaf, lilac buds green and 
 large, hepatica in flower, and crocuses getting quite tall. I sit, chief of the 
 morning, with window wide open and scarcely any fire ; but then such days 
 are rare with us ; and you have them, we trust, steadily.” 
 
 Sunday, April 4. — I have sent my maids into the garden instead 
 of reading with them in the kitchen, giving place to the superior 
 teaching of the crocuses and butterflies ; and this gives me a 
 minute to record the felicities of this day. Before church I sat on 
 the green-house step reading a story to my two darlings, shewing 
 them the flowers, the blue sky, and seeking gently to draw then- 
 young minds upward. * * * They so joyously happy, point- 
 
 ing to the flowers with little shrill screams of joy. I thought what 
 a happy hour is this ! 
 
 August 2. — A delicious summer morning. I am at home from 
 church with a slight head-ache and cold, by which I gain a 
 delightfully long pause. I have been feasting on the sight of m 3 7 
 precious little group on the lawn, oh ! what gifts, what unspeak- 
 able treasures ; and this I feel they are, whether permitted to 
 remain with us here, or removed to a better garden above. The 
 sweet garden, cheerful, rural-looking house, lovely flowers, Ac., 
 have also afresh excited my admiration and gratitude. I may say 
 I lack nothing outwardly, and am so free from cares and crosses. I 
 have been dwelling on the 33rd Isaiah, 16th, 17th, 21 st, and 24th 
 verses. Oh ! what offers of peace, of grace, and glory of this world 
 and the next. The coming round of our dear 1 st of August we 
 

1840. fet. 32. at halesworth. 155 
 
 have of course felt, and acknowledged with great comfort how 
 happy we are, how abundantly favoured, more settled and sup- 
 plied than on any previous one ; what may be our experience 
 before the next? These are indeed days of prosperity when our 
 children are about us. When the candle of the Lord shine th 
 upon our heads, may we not forget the days of darkness, for 
 they are many. 
 
 On returning from abroad, A. G. thus writes : — 
 
 “ Sunday, August 16. 
 
 “ My dearest Priscilla, — You know I never could fashion my hand to 
 writing much of a journal, yet I feel inclined to write something of my 
 thoughts on these daj^s — more solemn than all the days of the year to me. 
 The very steadiness and constancy of my view of her, saves me from those 
 horrible paroxysms ; and then the conviction I have, that however my mor- 
 tal life may be prolonged, ‘the time is short'; and sometimes I could almost 
 fancy I could discern her own touch in the combination of reliefs which 
 have been granted me, in the little as well as the larger arrangements which 
 have fallen out to my satisfaction, such as that ‘ shipwreck to order’ last 
 November (do you remember your terming it so?) as well as the winter at 
 Rome, and the voyage to Greece. I know, however, that all gratitude is due 
 to our supreme Master. He can supply all our need without the intervention 
 of His creatures ; and it is a constant joy to me to remember that my beloved 
 is in His keeping ; but it is hard to persuade myself that she is taken to a 
 sphere so far above me, that in all probability I have not the faculties to 
 comprehend the service to which her spirit is appointed. Do not think I 
 am taking harm by solitude ; as far as it has any effect, I suspect I rather 
 recover strength when quite alone, though I do prize, I am sure, the society 
 of those we have most loved, when it is fairly to be had. I have had all 
 the help mortal can have from most uncommon friends. Now, I must face 
 solitude, and through great mercy, I feel enabled to do so. Her entire 
 
NORTHREPPS 
 
 156 
 
 1840. set 32. 
 
 happiness must come before my desolation. I feel very thankfully my re- 
 maining blessings. 
 
 “ Yours, with all love, A. G.” 
 
 P.S. — “ I am truly glad to think of your having the splendid Chenda ! I 
 could wish she were my own to live for, for I never saw a creature more to 
 my fancy, much as I generally hate pretty things ; but do not tell her so.” 
 
 Northrepps Cottage, August 26. 
 
 P. J. to A. J. — “ Uncle Joseph and Anna came yesterday. This morning 
 a most perfect reading, prayers, &c.; then A. G. had him alone over the 
 tablet, and to the ruins, &c. I walked to the Hall, and she took him there 
 and brought me back. There is a party ! — the choicest of the earth, I think 
 — I hope to drive out with them to see my father's new estate (Runton), 
 and then to dine at the Hall.” 
 
 “ The Cottage, August 27 . 
 
 “ The family and neighbourhood are in commotion this morning about 
 the public meeting which they had fixed to have in the drawing-room and 
 hall ; but we hear hundreds are coming, and expect to have to adjourn under 
 the silver fir. All the wisdom is gone up to settle it. I stay here with A. G. 
 till nearer the time. Aunt Fry and aunt Cunningham came to breakfast; so 
 we were a goodly party at reading, whereat aunt Fry was reader and minister. 
 We went out a most delicious expedition to Runton yesterday, which dressed 
 itself up to be seen in the most lovely colours — the blue sea, white ships, 
 grey churches, green hills, and glowing heather ; it did look most beautiful, 
 and we thoroughly enjoyed it. Returned to dinner at the Hall, a busy 
 evening, like thousands before, over uncle Joseph’s West India Books." 
 
 “ Northrepps Hall, Autumn. 
 
 “ Oh ! my dearest, why were you not here last night ? We had such a 
 bright evening over the essays 1 they were most capital ; one or two I shall 
 be able to bring home for you, I hope. Oh ! I did so wish for you ; it 
 was really remarkably bright — a great party, nearly forty in the evening, and 
 all the servants, in the Hall.” 
 
1 840-1. set. 32-3. 
 
 ESSAY MEETING. 
 
 157 
 
 Aunt Fry’s Essay written in the night : — 
 
 “ Autumn, 1840. 
 
 “ If you wisli to be treated with good cheer, unbounded hospitality, true 
 liberality, constant kindness, sympathy in your afflictions, good nursing in 
 your illnesses, and to see in your landlord, the strong man, the Christian, the 
 philanthropist, combined with the simplicity of the child, and in your 
 landlady the adorning of the beautiful ornaments that decorate the female 
 character, grace being so poured forth, that in meekness of wisdom she 
 fills the place of wife, mother, sister, friend, and hostess, go to the house 
 of Sir T. F. and Lady Buxton, at Northrepps Hall, and do not leave it 
 without your prayers being raised that, through the fulness and freeness 
 of a Saviour’s love, they may long live to be blessed, and prove a blessing 
 to their children and children’s children, to all around them, and to the 
 world at large.” 
 
 February 25. 
 
 From T. F. B — “ My dearest Pris., — You will like to have a line from 
 me, and you will, I know, be glad to hear that I am more comfortable in my 
 mind about the mines. The sense that everything is divinely directed, that 
 none of these things spring out of the dust, the way in which we are 
 perpetually reminded in Scripture of the benefits of affliction, and, indeed, 
 almost of the necessity of that painful discipline, and everything combines to 
 render me in good heart and resolved that, though the earth be removed and 
 the mountains carried into the midst of the sea, yet I will not fear, and, 
 with God's help, I will not repine, but that I will strive hard and pray hard, 
 that the affliction may produce the intended and the peaceable fruits of 
 righteousness. 
 
 “ I send you a letter of Washingtons, in which he asks me to write an 
 address to the inhabitants of Africa. I send you the copy of my answer ; 
 but you know very well that such flights never proceeded from my pen, 
 though they went by my name. Could you give me a few ideas ? 
 
 “ Your affectionate father, 
 
 “ T. F. B.” 
 
158 LETTER FROM HER FATHER. 184-1. 8et. 33. 
 
 Matlock, May 4. 
 
 From T. F. B. — “My dearest Pris., — 1 suppose you know of our ex- 
 tempore flight from Leamington on Saturday morning. Yesterday we 
 employed well ; first, in mounting high up on this side and seeing the views ; 
 secondly, while age and wisdom took a nap in the dining room, youth and 
 energy crossed the river, ascended to the top of the opposite hill ; among 
 these frolicksome youths were Hannah and Martha. Afterwards, we filled 
 two flies with our party of nine, and had a charming excursion to Haddon 
 Hall. The thing that has most interested me, and awakened many old 
 slumbering feelings, is the circumstance that thirty-nine years ago Hannah 
 and I spent a Sunday here ; and she says that our first flirtation, so far as 
 she was a consenting party, took place in our walk up the hills behind 
 this house, then bleak and barren, now covered with trees. Could we have 
 then drawn aside the curtain and have seen what we should be on our next 
 visit to Matlock — our youngest child with us, just having entered Cambridge : 
 letters in our pockets from two of our married children, speaking in most 
 pleasant terms of their sons and daughters. Could we have heard the 
 continual address ‘yes, your ladyship !’ — ‘I’ll obey your orders, Sir Fowell !’ — 
 and seen Hannah traversing the hills with her splendid shawl, more radiant 
 than Queen Elizabeth. Had we also been aware that I should have spent 
 twenty years in Parliament, and the gracious Lord had blessed my efforts — 
 I say, could we in the former period have realized what we should be 
 nearly forty years hence, how strange, yet how cheering and interesting, 
 would have been the peep into futurity! and looking back to that long tissue 
 of years, I am constrained most feelingly to confess that goodness and mercy 
 have followed me all the days of my life. 
 
 “ Your affectionate father, 
 
 “ T. F. Buxton.” 
 
 November 24. 
 
 P. J. to C. B. — “ I have a book for marks for the children, which I care- 
 fully go over with mistress and pupil every week, and after lessons they 
 bring me 1 a character’ and the number of marks. The plan answers well: 
 
1841. set. 33. educational letters. 159 
 
 I give a farthing for twenty-five. The hammering part of lessons, I am 
 convinced, is best and happiest accomplished not by the mother ; but I 
 think most differently of the really mental, intellectual, or heart work of 
 teaching; of course I keep the serious part and Scripture history. To-day 
 we have begun ‘ Mary’s Grammar,’ it is a capital book ; also ‘ Reading Dis- 
 entangled,’ by Miss Bevan, author of ‘Peep of Day’ and 1 The Child’s Arith- 
 metic,’ is very good. I have the pennies they earn for their marks regularly 
 spent in a pencil or a little packet of seeds, &c. ; if it is saved it comes to 
 nothing and is wholly swallowed up : the labour of weeks proves not to be 
 worth so much as a casual shilling or half-crown from grandpapa ; but if it 
 is spent in an immediate pleasure (of a wholesome sort) it gives a zest to 
 the system of marks. It is their delight when the gardener prepares little 
 penny packets of mustard and cress, radish, &e.; and they go in form to 
 buy them.” 
 
 Northrepps Hall, October 6. 
 
 “A nursery reading is a duty which, though somewhat of an effort, 
 does, I do believe, bring a present payment more than most, exciting the 
 respect and appreciation of servants for their mistress, and giving an open- 
 ing for the best influence. I do not think I have anything particularly to 
 recommend in what I have read to the maids ; the chief point is, to find 
 something which affords a text. I read aunt Sarah’s little book on the 
 Sabbath through to them ; also the history of Elijah, reading it in the 
 Bible ; and then to them passages of Krummacher, previously marked. 
 Now, I have a little hook which interests us much (‘Village Conversations 
 on the Liturgy’). They have their prayer-books, and so we together look 
 at the scope and plan of different parts of the service. We always learn 
 something every week. It used to be two or three chosen verses out of 
 the chapter we had been reading ; after that, we took hymns for a time ; 
 and now we are learning the collects — of course the Scripture is con- 
 stantly used, and often nothing else. Last week when A. was out three 
 evenings, I read through, in the nursery, ‘ The Last Day of the Week,’ to 
 the servants’ great interest and pleasure — ‘The Smile on Duty’s Face’ for 
 my stimulus!” 
 
160 
 
 LETTEKS. 
 
 1842. set. 34. 
 
 Northrepps, April 5. 
 
 To Miss Clowes. — “My father now hardly likes to talk of Africa. We 
 can indeed only desire that He, who never grows weary or weak, may 
 remember it for good, and raise up labourers in His own time. How little 
 do we know — how short a way can we see — of the journey on which we are 
 embarked ! this first stage is so wonderfully small a part, that our condition 
 during it ought to be almost indifferent in our minds, if the main point is 
 but secured. Oh ! what would the principle of faith be, if we had it in lively, 
 vigorous, constant operation ; how it would set all things right ! how it would 
 give the full measure of acquiescence in present circumstances, of activity in 
 duty — of living hope for the great future ! I have thought so much of that 
 beautiful text — ‘ I am the door : by me if any man enter in, he shall go in 
 and out and find pasture.' What liberty, yet what shelter ! oh ! to taste 
 more of this blessedness. I am staying at the Cottage for two days; and 
 oh! what a spot of interest it is. Cousin Anna is, as always, a true sufferer. 
 Truly is her company rich ; the breadth and simplicity of her mind, and her 
 great powers, joined with her unfeigned humility, are a spectacle to con- 
 template.” 
 
 May 10. 
 
 From A. Cf. — “ My dearest Priscilla, — I have been too busy to write 
 quite lately, for which I am sorry. How odd it is that life w T ill thus roll 
 on and keep up its engagements. I yield to the stream with a better grace 
 than once I thought possible. There is much to enjoy here on earth; 
 and ‘ then cometh the end,’ which (may it not be presumption) I can- 
 not but look to as the crown of all enjoyment! I constantly do keep 
 in mind, though it be in the dim distance, a glimmer of the bright 
 view- of our meeting ; and I have such happy anticipation of the happy 
 end ! Yet I hope and desire to perform the work appointed ; and espe- 
 cially to be a faithful fellow-pilgrim to the few to whom I am especially 
 bound, and to bring my own business on earth to a tolerably comfortable 
 wind-up. 
 
 “ Your most affectionate, 
 
 “A. G. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
NORTHREPPS PARTY. 
 
 1842-3. set. 34-5. 
 
 161 
 
 November 19. — We went to Nortbrepps on Saturday, October 1. 
 There we stayed, I think, till Wednesday the 24th — three full 
 weeks, four Sundays — a time of uncommon enjoyment, privilege, 
 and prosperity. The autumn party in its fullest run, enriched by 
 dearest aunt Fry, who was at Rust’s lodgings ; my dearest father 
 and mother in health the whole time, and their seven children 
 and eight grand-children also. We had pretty regularly settled 
 mornings over Chalmers’ Lectures on the Epistle to the Romans, 
 drove out almost daily, making the shore a constant object, and 
 interchanged dinner visits almost without a day’s exception. It 
 was dissipated, certainly, but a true and lively enjoyment. We 
 were at one time sixteen nephews and nieces assembled ; and we 
 managed a present to aunt Fry of a silver inkstand, which we 
 gave the last evening. She was, as usual, unparalleled, (and though 
 weak in body,) she could not keep her fingers off the Cromer 
 fishermen. 
 
 The next letter refers to anxiety about children in illness : — 
 
 “ Halesworth, February 28. 
 
 * * * “ For the infirmity of over anxiety there is but one Physician ; 
 
 and though I have said so much, I do most deeply acknowledge that no pallia- 
 tives can be accepted where anxiety is once keenly awakened. I know what a 
 discipline it is. My earnest desire for each of us is, to be enabled to be 
 exercised thereby in constant acts of faith and submission, rolling over as it 
 were the care, day by day yielding our wills about it ; putting the responsi- 
 bility, so to speak, on Him whose child it is ; continually, and, as it were, 
 formally laying the charge on another, with a deliberate yielding up of the 
 lamb, to a care so far wiser, so far more powerful and more loving than ours. 
 Every yearning of love ought in such a case to help us, as bringing home a 
 
162 HER FATHER. 1843 . set. 35 . 
 
 faint image of that far greater love of Him who never slumbers nor fails us 
 for an instant. I need not say that I preach and do not practise ; yet this 
 must not hinder us from trying to stir up each other, and ourselves, by 
 communicating.” 
 
 About her Father she writes at this time : — 
 
 “ Northrepps, April 9. 
 
 “ The pouring out of his mind in prayer this morning (I stayed at home 
 from Church with him and my mother) was, even for him, most unusually 
 interesting, only the emphasis and fervour of it almost gave me a nervous 
 turn. He first spoke (after my mother, &c.) of his children and grand- 
 children generally, but individually too, ‘ as we pass them each over in our 
 minds ; ’ but afterwards, as if he could not be satisfied, returned upon each. 
 I only wish I could remember the emphatic, beautiful expressions he used 
 respecting me, they were most touching — ‘ our most dearly and preciously 
 beloved daughter, friend, and sister ; that I might taste of the richest 
 harvest in my children and their well-doing ; that my heart might be filled 
 with a song of melody ; then for thee, for every prosperity ; that our domestic 
 joys might long, long remain for those beloved, promising, and endearing 
 children.’ I only wish I could remember the words of his petitions for them ; 
 the substance was that they might cleave to the right, and abhor the wrong.” 
 
 A month later she adds in her journal : — 
 
 The other day I met my father in London, going for a long 
 round, so knocked up and unequal to it, that I dared not let him 
 go alone, so I went with him in a cab : a most characteristic 
 round — about his will, to his doctor, then to Dr. Lushington, his 
 hatter, two or three gun-makers, a horse-dealer, Ac. I went, 
 impelled by strong love ; hut largely did I profit ! his company 
 so delightful, and he was restless to give me a present. He at last 
 
SOUTHWOLD. 
 
 1843. set. 35. 
 
 163 
 
 relieved himself by buying me a ten-guinea boa, a charming print, 
 and caps for the boys ! 
 
 From London she went by sea to South wold, on the Suffolk 
 coast, (about eight miles from Halesworth,) from this time the 
 happy resort for many summers. 
 
 “ Southwold, July 4. 
 
 “ I am most comfortably settled in a pleasant drawing-room looking over 
 the sea, though not so near as I should like, the children playing on the 
 green. We have an excellent account to give of ourselves ; our voyage 
 proved faultless, and a charming day. We settled ourselves in a nice corner, 
 with broad seats and cushions ; they spread an awning, and it hung down to 
 the deck on one side so as to shelter us from wind. We read, and some- 
 times walked about, though I chiefly lay still and read Rienzi. About seven, 
 the ‘Water-witch’ bent her course into Sole Bay, and a boat was descried 
 by that instinct sailors have. We were soon conveyed in a fishing boat to 
 shore, and found all right and ready for us. We have just now had a 
 delicious morning on the shore in the shade of a boat, reading the Bible, 
 and wandering about. We are thoroughly enjoying our holiday here ; the 
 day is delicious, and the sea most sparkling.” 
 
 “ Southwold, July 11 
 
 “I have just been driving some of my party in our new basket pony- 
 chair all over the grassy sea flats which lie on one side of this place, and 
 which are covered now with the horned poppy, the sea pea, yellow stone 
 crop, &e., then our pleasant early dinner. I more and more enjoy our 
 settlement here ; the repose is so delightful, the absence of acquaintance and 
 visitors, and my long days. At present I have been chiefly engaged with 
 accounts and arrears of letters ; but I mean to get into reading, for I have 
 delightfully quiet morning hours. I am now in Ecclesiastes for my old 
 Text Book, and have not yet begun Chalmers. I always have that main 
 secret of comfort, a pause for serious reading, between ten and eleven, and a 
 pause for entertaining reading before six.” 
 
NORTHREPPS. 
 
 164 
 
 1843. set. 35. 
 
 Son th wold, July. — To me this season here has been a Sabbath ; 
 and thankful I am to trust that we have five or six weeks more 
 of it to look forward to. The complete quiet and retirement, my 
 long sits on the shore, early dinners with the children, long, quiet 
 afternoons, the cheerful tea and evening walk with husband and 
 bairns, are delightful to me. 
 
 Northrepps, the bow-room, September 13. — Before breakfast, 
 the lawn and flowers glittering in the dew, the early sunshine 
 in its first freshness between the trees. I have been lono- sitt ing 
 
 O o 
 
 by my open window, drinking in the beauty of Nature, and 
 dwelling on the still greater loveliness of the world of grace, the 
 promises, the blessings, the hopes of it, reading in Micah, and 
 endeavouring to bring ail my concerns in some order before God. 
 I wished to write in my journal before leaving South wold, but was 
 prevented. We wound up our near ten weeks’ sojourn there last 
 Thursday with much satisfaction and thankfulness, had a bustling 
 short time at home, came to Earlham on Friday, there paid a 
 prosperous and interesting visit, and arrived here to dinner on 
 Saturday, meeting a delicious welcome, and finding everything 
 in a good measure of prosperity. The next day was Sunday ; the 
 morning I spent at home with my dearest parents. We read in 
 Philippians. My father said he had been thinking in the night 
 of that verse — “ The Lord is at hand,” “ Be careful for nothing,” 
 &c. He joined the two in a way I felt striking. I am struck 
 by finding how much his mind is alive to the doctrine of our 
 Lord’s coming ; how he continually observes it in Scripture and 
 
1843. set. 35. northrepps. 165 
 
 dwells upon it. His prayer, as usual, was memorable ; it was an 
 out-pouring ; nothing could be more touching than his petitions 
 for me and my children, especially for the two elder ones left at 
 home. O may they be recorded in heaven, though the details have 
 slipped from my poor, weak memory ! Then, that my fervent de- 
 sires might be granted in their (his and my mother’s) health, pros- 
 perity, and life — how did this meet my very inmost soul ! — also for 
 their spiritual light and life. We then walked in their lovely new 
 garden ; how delightful are the pleasures and ornaments now per- 
 mitted them after their life of labour, and often of sorrow ! North- 
 repps, as usual, is outwardly and inwardly fascinating to me. Love 
 and unity, liberty and independence, seem here to reign with native 
 charm, ease, and abundance. In the afternoon we all assembled at 
 Northrepps Chinch, where Edward Hoare preached such a sermon 
 on Romans ii, 18 and four following verses ! His reading of his 
 text was a sermon in itself, and his application of it most truly 
 feeling and strengthening. His view of this undoubting faith as 
 applied to the work of Christ for our salvation, and then his 
 mention of faith for our children, entered my very heart. 
 
 Halesworth, November 26, Sunday Evening. — This day is 
 marked to me by the tidings of the death of my precious nephew, 
 John Henry Buxton,* who, after a long course of trial, has merci- 
 fully been taken to rest. I feel it all mercy and relief, yet deeply 
 touching. I have so desired to be elevated by it, to follow him 
 in his wonderful transition ! 
 
 * Third son of E. 1ST. and C. Buxton, aged eighteen months. 
 
166 children. 1844 set. 35-6. 
 
 “ January 1. 
 
 “ My dearest Father, 
 
 * * * “I think we ought to remember the very great and 
 
 peculiar mercies of the past year with encouragement ; above all, your 
 improvement in health, my dearest father. I hope it will strengthen our 
 faith and hope for the next, and that we shall go on with good courage. I 
 wish to take for my text this new year, 1 the breastplate of faith and love ; and. 
 for an helmet, the hope of salvation ; and, with earnest good wishes I recom- 
 mend the same to you.’ ” 
 
 Sunday, March 3. — I have been nearly three weeks almost ill 
 with influenza, more than a week confined upstairs, and a good 
 deal to bed. I am now getting over it, I hope, without much 
 cough. It has been a time of much peace and quiet enjoyment, 
 every outward luxury so abundantly supplied. Almost above all, 
 has been a sense that my indisposition had, rather than not, a 
 softening, good effect on my dear lambs. How little does this 
 book convey any idea of the almost ceaseless engrossment of my 
 heart, mind, and time about them ! every day seems marked by 
 care about the body, conduct, or circumstances of one or other of 
 these precious, anxious treasures ! I sometimes think if I were 
 taken away, it would be almost a pity they should have no more 
 record of my travail of spirit for and about them. 
 
 “ Southwold, April 25. 
 
 “ How I do wish you could now see and partake of my settlement by 
 this delightful window — the exceeding beauty of the sparkling sea and boats 
 is quite interrupting! I feel already refreshed by the change and the 
 brightness of this house, everything so clean and complete, beds and curtains 
 
1844. set. 36. Lowestoft. 167 
 
 snowy white — everything trimmed up for the summer season. We went 
 immediately on to the shore with all the children; it was delightfully warm 
 then, and my first proceeding was to buy a cotton parasol.” 
 
 “ Southwold, April 26. 
 
 “We are tempted to stay on here for another week, there is such a 
 Sabbath in it — ‘ divine silence’ — and the rustling waves seem to feed me ! 
 The wind is very cold, hut it does not signify to me, for I enjoy the climate, 
 as Horace Walpole says, ‘ framed and glazed.’ I have quite enjoyed his 
 letters here — surely he is underrated — his opinions on slavery and on war do 
 seem to me so good and so novel in his age. Would you send this scrap to 
 aunt Forster, she takes far less notice of me than of a donkey on the road !” 
 
 After C. I. J/s birth : — 
 
 August. — I almost fear opening this book, the rush of sub- 
 jects is so great. We came to Lowestoft on Thursday the 18 th 
 of July with our dearest parents, and settled in a small lodging, 
 I given up to gaining bodily strength, and to enjoying, in a 
 passive way, our rich little community — the vicarage and the 
 Parrys, with many attendant friends. It was a most valuable 
 time to me in seeing Sir Edward and Catherine in real life. 
 
 Lowestoft, August 26. 
 
 To her Mother. — “ I am getting on quite fast, and am, I may say, quite 
 well, though not quite strong. Our party here is very agreeable and enjoyable. 
 Yesterday, we had a most entertaining scene at the Vicarage, where we went 
 to partake of Edward’s salmon and your goose. Aunt C. had only taken in 
 that the elders were coming ; so when we appeared with eight children, in 
 addition to ourselves, the consternation and bustle were droll, and to add to 
 them, she had invited a formal shy young man, who did look most absurdly 
 divided between amusement and alarm at us all. Sir Edward is very 
 
168 DEATH OF W. FRY. 1844. set. 36. 
 
 charming ; I am quite struck with his power of adapting himself, to both help 
 and please everyone, young and old, and his efficiency is delightful ; what he 
 undertakes is carried through, and done with power and completeness. I 
 have no doubt we shall see him in his glory to-morrow, when five hundred 
 children, with a due proportion of teachers and spectators, are to be fed and 
 gratified, and done good to, in all ways. The meeting of the Benefit Society, 
 on Friday, was a fine sight and occasion. O that such were universal ! they 
 would be a remedy for the misery of the poor. Dearest love to my father ; I 
 hope he will have a horse for me in September. 
 
 “ Most nearly, 
 
 “P. J." 
 
 Wednesday, August 28. — Broken off on Sunday, I little 
 thought of the next entry, (though then anxious,) the death from 
 malignant scarlet fever of William Fry ! — a most startling and 
 overwhelming event ! This day fortnight they were in complete 
 prosperity ; that afternoon their little girl Juliana sickened, and 
 died the next night. He was taken ill in a day or two, and after 
 a fearful struggle of ten days, is taken from his large family and 
 most important central post ! The judgments of the Lord are 
 in the earth ! I feel it most awful to see His hand thus lifted 
 up ! One child is very ill, and others threatening ; several 
 servants ill. Here is one of ourselves, a contemporary, in the 
 very prime of the career of life, struck down ! Oh ! are we 
 ready ? 
 
 Sunday, September 8. — By the open drawing-room window — 
 the garden lovely — waiting for my boy, who is now my only 
 child at home. O what a new world is unlocked, as it were, by 
 having a child ten years old ! It seems gradually to engross and 
 
CHILDREN. 
 
 1841. set. 36. 
 
 169 
 
 occupy so large a portion of one’s mind : I camiot say how many 
 more thoughts they take as they grow older. I often think that 
 as children in the charms and fascinations of their first years are 
 like the blossoms, so they go through the state of unripe fruit, 
 their infantine charms are gone, and the full fruit is far from being 
 come : yet this is not true fully ; for though unripeness and hope 
 for the future may predominate, yet how large a measure of enjoy- 
 ment is there from them in all their stages ! I am much impressed 
 with the duty of enjoying them, as well as labouring for them ; 
 and I believe this spirit (of dwelling with thankful hope on them, 
 and cultivating them in love and encouragement) would often 
 produce greater fruit than the more careful one which is my 
 nature. In the absence of all my precious party except Andrew 
 (sent off on Tuesday to Northrepps), I have had time to con- 
 template them ; and I have perceived that I have allowed myself 
 to be too much encumbered with cares and labours about them, 
 so that the flowers of daily delight, love, and companionship, have 
 been in a measure choked. 
 
 Evening. — How different is the leisure, almost amounting to 
 vacancy, of this evening, compared to my usual allotment ! It 
 is rather resting and good for me for once, yet I feel in poverty, 
 and my heart visits Northrepps and the most beloved lovely party 
 there assembled. I turn, too, to the poor widowed Julia in one 
 house, and her four sick and suffering children in another ; and 
 the tomb built but three weeks ago, and now containing my dear 
 cousin and his two sweet girls ! There is no rest but in committing 
 
AUTUMN GATHERING. 
 
 170 
 
 1844. set. 36. 
 
 them implicitly to the holy hands of the Shepherd of Israel. We 
 are winding up for our Northrepps visit, on which my heart craves 
 a blessing, especially on our intercourse with dearest Edward and 
 Catherine. His delicacy has been a weight on my heart. Thank 
 God ! he is better ; may it be continued and increased ! 
 
 Saturday, November 2. — Having no letters to write (an ad- 
 vantage which I am more and more bent on securing for the 
 Saturdays), I will endeavour to write down a few of the many 
 thoughts and feelings which crowd my mind. The outline of our 
 history since I wrote is, that we and our dear boy went to Earlham 
 on Wednesday September 11, and to Northrepps on Thursday 12, 
 and stayed there till October 8. A highly privileged time it 
 was — Edward and Catherine, and their four children, and our six ; 
 Fowell and Charles also joined us ; so that we were all assembled. 
 We enjoyed the country and drove much about, and the family 
 community was delightful ; but perhaps the greatest, or at least 
 most peculiar privilege, was in our readings with Edward Hoare 
 on the Apocalypse. We read with much care and discussion the 
 first eleven chapters. His preaching was also a marked feature 
 of the time — five admirably-told, feeding discourses. He gave 
 us one on the work of faith with power, at Overstrand. His 
 father, and mine, sat in the front of the gallery. How do I recall 
 the countenances of the veterans listening to then' powerful child ! 
 his father shedding many tears, and mine in the most riveted, 
 fixed, eager attention ; and he told me afterwards he thought it 
 was the best sermon he had ever heard. 
 
] 844. set. 36. 
 
 LETTER TO HER MOTHER. 
 
 171 
 
 To her Mother, after a poor account of her father : — 
 
 “November 10. 
 
 “ I need not say liow entirely your letter touches my inmost heart, how I 
 partake of it all, and how hearing of infirmity in him so inexpressibly 
 precious, honoured, and beloved, touches the very springs of action and 
 feeling in me. But I think there is a remedy completely able to meet the 
 case — we must deliberately bring the whole thing to the balance of the 
 sanctuary, there weigh time against eternity — there see that though the 
 blossom which has been so noble, drops off— it is to make way for the 
 perfected fruit. I feel a real help in this analogy. May you be encouraged 
 in patient cheerful waiting for Christ; His day will renew and perfect all 
 that has been ever blessed to us; and the end of the warfare will make us 
 wonder we were ever weary in the course of it. I am not the most light- 
 hearted myself, though essentially comfortable, and fed with food convenient 
 for me, I believe. I am very fully occupied with Bible lessons, geography, 
 &c., in the mornings ; and I have known what it is to taste of some true, 
 precious comfort, in reposing my whole care upon One mighty to save, and 
 mighty to sanctify ; and through all discouragements and ever-recurring self- 
 reproach and humiliation, I am blessed with a faith that some day the 
 end will be crowned with rejoicing, through the long-suffering, mercy, and 
 parental compassion of the Lord. I have felt in a most dependent state as if 
 every move in the day needed new and especial help, and only marvellous it 
 is, that it does not produce greater watchfulness I have enjoyed T. E. 
 Hankinson's sermons, they exactly suit me. Luxury is it to make the room 
 neat ; close the door upon the first business of the day ; see things set 
 a-going, and draw in over the fire, with my book and pencil for rest and food. 
 The tenth, twelfth, and thirteenth sermons are delightful.” 
 
 A month later, she thus writes about her father, after a visit to 
 Northrepps ; — 
 
 He took very little part in religious service, the prayer in the 
 family only once, and that by my request ; but his saying of grace 
 
 AA 
 
HER FATHER’S ILLNESS 
 
 172 
 
 ] 811-5. set. 36. 
 
 at dinner was truly a service in itself, the irresistible venting of 
 the heart, and in a manner, and with an emphasis, and feeling, not 
 to he conveyed. Some of them that I preserved on scraps of paper 
 are as follows : — “ Lord make us truly thankful for Thy innumer- 
 able mercies to us, and with the blessing to the body, give us 
 those far greater blessings to the soul which are by Jesus.” “ The 
 Lord bless us with a sense of His mercy, of His love, and His 
 indulgent kindness to us, and give us an anxious desire to serve 
 Him and to please Him for Christ’s sake.” “ The Lord make us 
 very thankful, and recall to our recollection all the instances of 
 His mercy, and fill us with thankfulness.” 
 
 One morning after Andrew’s reading the latter part of the 11th 
 Matthew, and commenting on some verses, my father began from 
 his easy chair in the corner, in a very feeling way, saying he wished 
 to add something “ to the invaluable reading we have had.” 
 “ There is one passage which has not been touched upon by our 
 friend and minister, which I can never read without the most 
 anxious inquiry into the state of my own soul.” He then read, 
 with the greatest emphasis, the passage beginning — “Woe unto 
 thee, Chorazin,” He said this was peculiarly applicable to us 
 as a family, and dwelt on our many and great privileges, solemnly 
 concluding, “ how great will he our condemnation if these are not 
 improved.” Nothing can exceed his humility, and not willingness, 
 but determination to yield his own will, and to submit. 
 
 Jan. 21. — Too, too long since I have written, and so much has 
 passed ! My father’s poor state and my going over, Dec. 1 9 ; 
 
1845. set. 86. and death 
 
 our close anxiety and watching. His awful deathlike sink, his 
 wonderful degree of restoration, our return home, Jan. 1 ; our 
 second summons, Jan. 11 • going off at three in the morning, again 
 his blessed restoration and our return home, Tuesday Id. And is 
 it possible that I have not recorded dearest Fowell’s and Rachel’s 
 engagement ? May the blessing of the Lord ever be with them and 
 theirs. 
 
 Again summoned to Northrepps, she stayed there through the 
 remainder of her father’s illness. 
 
 4 ' Northrepps, February 17. 
 
 “ My dearest Aunt Cunningham — 
 
 “ Your letters are so precious and comforting, nothing could help me 
 more than your oversight of our boy just, now’ (at school near Lowestoft). 
 • Oh, what a loss, indescribable, he is sustaining ; my heart at times writhes 
 under the sense of the immense loss to my children, and to me. Oh, to 
 see him, so noble, yet so deeply stamped by illness, pale, sunk, faint ! My 
 mother is marvellously sustained, and up to everything. On Saturday night, 
 Fowell, Rachel, and Charles, arrived ; she gave them a delightful welcome ; 
 but what it was to glance in thought to the room and bed upstairs ; the 
 picture there, and the unspeakable miss of him, his welcome, his charm, 
 his leadership of everything. I have not mentioned one of our very greatest 
 helps, Chenda’s remarkable power ; she is quite lovely, and takes a foremost 
 place. There is no hard nursing, we are so strong in numbers ; but she 
 is a principal stay.” 
 
 Her father died on the 19th February. 
 
 Two days later, she writes : — 
 
 “ His countenance is a perfect volume and history. The film of illness 
 and labour, “ the garment of heaviness ” is gone, and the mind, the in- 
 tellectual, purposing, the exalted, spiritual mind, seems left nearly un- 
 
\ 174 
 
 NORTHREPPS. 
 
 1845. set, 37. 
 
 covered ; it is as though we could see it, so powerfully is its stamp left 
 on its tabernacle. It would feel almost impossible to part with anything 
 so noble, ‘ so magnificent,’ as uncle Joseph called it, did we not verily 
 believe we shall see it again, and even in far greater perfection. 
 
 I feel indescribable love and solicitude about Edward, and long to share 
 the weights which look heavy on his dear, interesting, thin face. It is 
 impossible, I think, to see a more graceful, unworldly, holy young man.” 
 
 The following extract is from a letter written from North repps, 
 by Mrs. Cunningham, March 3 : — 
 
 “Yesterday evening we all gathered round dearest Hannah, reading 
 various accounts of him, in letters, papers, &c. We were all just now 
 called together, and she has been reading and praying with us in the 
 most touching manner ; she may well be called “ the devout elect lady,” 
 and surrounded by a most interesting party ministering to her. I feel it 
 a great privilege being with them, and am much struck by the beauty, the 
 perfect keeping, the exquisite heading of the whole thing at Northrepps, 
 with the great sorrow of widowhood, yet this we may almost call a perfect 
 widowhood, and when we consider the languishing, and sickness, and 
 sorrows of long illness, how should we lift up our heads that in infinite 
 mercy it is cut short in righteousness, that he is where there is neither 
 death, nor sorrow, nor crying, neither any more pain.” 
 
 Heath End, Oct. 12. — Staying with Sir E. and Lady Parry. 
 The rest and leisure of this Sabbath has been most acceptable to 
 me ; a full morning church and excellent sermon from Robert 
 Hankinson, on being “ renewed in the spirit of our minds.” — 
 Eph. iv. Agreeable walks with Sir Edward, the heath lovely 
 in the soft sunshine, with rich autumnal tints. What a great 
 privilege and honour to be thus thrown as a sister, on the most 
 
1845—6. set. 37-8. airs, fry’s death. 175 
 
 intimate terms with such a man as Sir Edward ! He is truly 
 noble and heart-taking, more like my father in some points than 
 any body I think, yet very different ; but in largeness of mind 
 and views, mingled strength and tenderness of character, there 
 is decided resemblance. 
 
 Monday, Oct. 13. — This evening is strongly mai’ked by hearing 
 the over-coming tidings of dearest aunt Fry's seizure, truly shaking 
 and awful, yet not a calamity. Perhaps now she is in heaven t 
 (Oh ! the deadness of me, that even this thought cannot lift me 
 there!) and meeting my Father! and we so busy on earth we 
 hardly know how to wish to be there. 
 
 Tuesday, 14. — A day solemnized by expectation, and then by 
 receiving the news of our precious aunt’s death. Oh ! blessed 
 truth, that she is perfectly relieved from the weight and burden of 
 the flesh, and in perfect bliss for ever. 
 
 Oct. 17. — Much to note, but little time or strength. I try to 
 turn to the good we may draw from this dispensation. A glimpse of 
 the heavenly glory through the eyes of a person with whom we 
 had so true a sympathy, her meeting with others, then her example 
 on earth, though so unattainable, yet might not some touches of 
 it be caught ? Her caring for every body who came in contact 
 with her, her immediate thought of benefiting their bodies or their 
 souls, her giving time and trouble to this, and her eye in all things 
 to her Master. 
 
 Leytonstone, April 28. — I have wished to fix some of the 
 impressions of my present circumstances, but busy idleness has 
 
176 
 
 BISHOP OF CALCUTTA. 
 
 1846. set. 38. 
 
 prevented. In the fleeting away of life, the company and in- 
 fluences of such precious relatives are worth recording. The 
 morning after our arrival, as we sat at breakfast, up drove the 
 Bishop of Calcutta.* This was his mode of coming to dinner, and 
 very wise it proved. He wanted a completely quiet day, and had 
 it, never re-appearing till six. He came in with delightful warmth, 
 kissing us all ; me he greeted with eagerness, and often turned to 
 me, “ Why here’s Mrs. Priscilla the same as ever.” A most 
 agreeable breakfast we had, he talked and laughed incessantly, 
 told us much, and was thoroughly alive and bright about every 
 thing. He retreated, as I have said, after a sudden and beautiful 
 prayer for the house and its inhabitants. “I shall appear at six” 
 — so he did exactly. The Chevalier and Madame Bunsen came to 
 dinner, with the Upton party. The evening too broken to get at 
 much ; but a highly interesting sight and occasion to us. Edward 
 obtained silence to read a letter about the Punjaub war, and the 
 moment he had finished, without a syllable of comment, the 
 Bishop exclaimed in his sonorous tone, “ We shall now 7 read 
 prayers : the ninety-first Psalm.” Two verses he got through, 
 then began to discourse first upon the letter we had heard, his 
 knowledge of the people mentioned in it, and anecdotes of them ; 
 then India generally, mixing it up with verses of the Psalm, and 
 rambling on in a most entertaining as well as excellent style. 
 Then his prayer, beautifully but oddly mingled were its subjects. 
 On rising, he, without a moment’s pause, turned and made a low 
 
 * Daniel Wilson. 
 
1846-7. set. 38. 
 
 BISHOP OF CALCUTTA. 
 
 177 
 
 bow to Madame Bunsen and my mother, then to the Chevalier, 
 then one to all the company, and straight he marched away. 
 The decision, the promptitude, the clearness of all his plans, 
 display a great power. The next morning he appeared punctually, 
 read the 110th Psalm, with a line commentaiy on the promise 
 that “ the dew of our youth should be upon the land.” I cannot 
 exactly express it, but it was cheering and charming. “ I shall 
 see you for a quarter of an hour at tiffin, and I shall go away 
 at a quarter before live o’clock.” At one we found him in the 
 dining-room, and very agreeable he was, and went away, as he 
 had said, kissing us all again. 
 
 The Brewery, May 7. — This day has been a rich ending to a 
 rich week. Dearest Rachel and I had a precious reading to- 
 gether in the 1st Col. in the morning ; oh, how boundless is the 
 wealth of the word of God ! Though I have so dwelt on this 
 chapter, I never saw till now the great doctrines of cheerfulness 
 contained in the 11th, 12th, and 13th verses, that under all cir- 
 cumstances we are to thank God with all “joyfulness,” because 
 of our being “ partakers of the inheritance.” At twelve we 
 went off to Upton, and then to Forest Edge, where we dined; 
 the forest was in fairy beauty. Now for the sabbath, and 
 oh ! for a sabbath spirit, and a sabbath blessing ; and oh ! for 
 mercy on this great city ; we have seen some of its teeming 
 thousands to-night, how do they fare? body and soul. Thou 
 who knowest the hairs on every head, be merciful to their un- 
 reachable necessities. 
 
178 DEATH OF J. J. GURNEY. — FUNERAL. 1847- Set. 38. 
 
 Death of her uncle Joseph John Gurney. 
 
 Jan. 16th. — It seems in vain to attempt to grasp or put into 
 words either the circumstances or the impressions of our dearest 
 uncle’s death. I long to retain my last lovely image of him at his 
 hall door, his loving smile and his soft beautiful grey hair, with 
 his black velvet cap, which made him look, as I told him, like a 
 fine old Roman Catholic Archbishop. Our glimpse of Earlham 
 on the Saturday — meeting dearest Anna and all the party, and 
 visiting our dear Aunt Eliza in the dressing-room — made our 
 going again the easier. We saw them on Monday evening, and 
 on Tuesday morning entered that truly memorable scene and party. 
 The effect of our hour in the ante-room is surely never to be 
 forgotten. Its deep stillness, or rather the petrefaction of it ; it 
 seemed impossible to move a hand ; the very sight and reality 
 of the event lay before us in that coffin ; we sat around it, and 
 not a sound was heard till the men entered, and most quietly 
 and seriously carried it away. We sat on in increased desolation 
 and were gradually summoned, every one sitting motionless till 
 they were called. When our turn came, the scene at the dear 
 hall door was aftectingly beautiful ; the bright sunshine making 
 the trees and grass one glitter of hoar frost : the fines of carriages 
 extending all round, under the great trees, and then along the 
 chesnut avenue. Our drive with Chenda Gurney and William 
 Gurney, though so entirely mournful, was highly interesting and 
 elevating. The marvellous crowds of people, together with ab- 
 solute order and perfect arrangement; the total closing of all 
 
1847. set. 38. gathering at ear t h a a t. 179 
 
 Norwich ; the bells of every church tolling as our long cortege 
 wound through the Market Place, past St. Andrew’s Hall, gave 
 a majesty to the scene. Edward compared it to the coronation : 
 it was thought fifty thousand persons at least were present. At 
 the grave the same perfect order was preserved — Sunday school 
 teachers, with their arms linked in each other, formed a wall on 
 either side of the path, and we walked along to the upper end, 
 where a large space was boarded. A most solemn time, and one 
 I wish to remember ; for then death felt to me little, the bander 
 slight, the event undreadful. I think I hardly ever saw the stream 
 so passable, the victory was so visible. We slowly went back 
 into the meeting, leaving the precious remains. There was a vast 
 number, but good order; much sweet ministry, and amongst the 
 rest a prayer from Aunt Eliza, a very surprising acknowledgment 
 of love, and thanks, and allegiance. Many were there full of 
 feeling — men of business, clergymen, and 0, such numbers who 
 evidently felt a right to mourn personally. We all assembled 
 at dinner. Oh, the dreams of that dinner ! I was one of those 
 who could most vividly recall the past glories, the excessive 
 interest and pleasure of great dinners at Earlham. My cheerful 
 noble father, even his blue coat and bright buttons were before 
 me ; IJncle Joseph’s balmy genial influence, his unforgetting cour- 
 tesy, his graceful pleasantry, his ever ready hallowing of all things ; 
 then Uncle Hoare’s steady support of all good; Aunt Fry’s unction; 
 and the gifts and graces of how many others — the Bishop of 
 Calcutta, Mr. Simeon, Mr. Tacy, Mr. Cunningham, Mr. Hankinson. 
 
180 
 
 READING IN THE EVENING. 
 
 1847. set. 38-9. 
 
 The strongest thought was, the blessing that such things have 
 been ; that we have seen and known and belonged to such 
 persons, so gifted, so graced ; that the earth has had such, aDd 
 that they are safe ! I greatly valued dear Joseph Hoare’s in- 
 teresting company, fresh from another scene of death,* his narration 
 of the closing of that admirable and invaluable dispensation, made 
 even the hours that dinner lasted, short to me. In the evening 
 the dining-room was filled with chairs ■ all being settled, uncle 
 Gurney brought in poor dear aunt Eliza, and then he said in the 
 most feeling way, “ Among our other unspeakable losses, we miss 
 the ready and the anointed tongue but that his “ beloved sister ” 
 had prepared a few memoranda of the latter weeks of his life, 
 which (though often with a doubtful voice) he read ; so heard, 
 they were of fastening interest ; they described a peaceful cheerful 
 period ; work curiously wound up ; ministry kindling into the 
 most fervent appeals and then suddenly arrested. His illness 
 was almost painless, and his death unconscious. Much I have 
 left unmentioned. Anna’s dignified, settled, yet bowed appear- 
 ance ; dearest aunt Cunningham’s lovely beaming spirit and 
 countenance, able to receive at once the very freshness of the 
 grief, and of the consolation ; uncle C., uncle and aunt Gurney, 
 our beloved friends Mr. and Mrs. Brightwen, and others ; truly 
 I looked on them all with renewed love ; we do know tire value 
 of these precious treasures ; may we not be called to part with 
 more yet. 
 
 His father’s. 
 
1847-8. jet. 39. 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 18 
 
 September 11. 
 
 To ber brother Edward on his position in Parliament. — “ I cannot help 
 longing for you, to ease your own course by taking a pretty decided line as 
 to religious profession ; I think it is such a happy shelter, as well as every 
 thing else, to be at once classed as ‘ a saint,’ that people may see at once that 
 it is no good asking you to join in anything that is on the borders of 
 questionable. Ido believe character gains weight by this, with nine hundred 
 and ninety-nine people out of every thousand ; and it does powerfully strike 
 me here is a crisis of great importance, and that if you yield now you will 
 involve yourself in a vast amount of perplexing requests and doubtful points, 
 the one a little within the boundary, the next a little over it; and so your 
 course will appear in a degree an uncertain, and, in measure, an undecided 
 one. I am only touching on the policy and safety of being something of a 
 party man in respect of what is called worldliness, and to reject it in the 
 lump. Things in this day cannot be judged by their inherent evil, their 
 prestige, their name, their influence, direct and indirect, must be weighed ; 
 and when we see the immense contest going on in the world between the 
 armies of good and evil, we cannot afford to he on any sort of neutral 
 ground.” 
 
 Halesworth, February 17. 
 
 To the same. — “ My dearest Edward, — I need not say how full my heart 
 is of those painful debates, and you as connected with them. I almost 
 shrink from writing or speaking of them, the over-riding of evil is so tremend- 
 ous, and the almost hopelessness of preserving any good in such a storm, the 
 stream running so strong against the principles we hold so sacred. What 
 would my father have felt to read in The Times a deliberate proposal to renew 
 avowed slave trade, ‘ to purchase fifty thousand blacks per annum in Africa, 
 and convey them to the West Indies’!! We can only feel that Satan is 
 indeed suffered to reign, having seduced England from her fidelity to these 
 principles ; but I strongly feel we must not lose faith — ‘ Greater’ through all ‘ is 
 He that is for us, than they that are against us — and it may be, that in this 
 very excess of evil will appear His opportunity to stretch forth His mighty 
 power. We certainly are taught to have no other dependence ; I expect 
 
182 LETTER TO E. N. B. 1848. Sdt. 39-40. 
 
 anti-slavery feeling will rally, and will gather a little around you. I conclude 
 you will be placed upon that anxious committee, and there is indeed a task 
 for the season. I think, as far as we can see, there is nothing to be done, no 
 proposal to be made or scheme of action undertaken, hut to protest whenever 
 the opportunity is given, appears the duty committed to you. That, 1st, the 
 slave trade and slavery were abolished on account of their sinfulness, and that 
 this ground is strong enough for all ages ; but that, 2ndly, slavery especially 
 was found to be utterly inexpedient, that the population was steadily dying 
 off, and that the planters were then ruined. It is impossible to be in a worse 
 state than they then described themselves to be in. Further, 3rdly, that the 
 experiment of free labour was beginning to succeed, that the quantity of 
 sugar grown was increasing, modes of cultivation improving, and that, con- 
 sidering the great transition, they were showing up well ; and 4thly, that their 
 present disastrous state is owing to the wicked act of 1846, but for which 
 they would this year certainly have had a good return, and the prospect of 
 increasingly good ones as the population increased, and the land was better 
 cultivated. Remedies are far more difficult ; I have no faith in any but the 
 repeal of the act, and this is awfully hopeless. I think you can only protest 
 against all others. I suppose it would be impossible to collect a small, very 
 select party of real heads of sections to consult whether any thing can be 
 done to rouse the country for the repeal of the act. I know this is perhaps 
 an impossible suggestion, but I like best to throw it before you and to say 
 how deeply my very heart is concerned in this awful matter. Oh i that 
 wisdom and power may be supplied from above. The comfort is, our Lord 
 knows our frame, and every peculiarity of our circumstances — He knows 
 where we can act or speak, and where we cannot; and, if kept in close 
 dependence on Him, He will surely give the needful strength, discern- 
 ment, wisdom, and power. How will you ever get through this weary 
 letter? It has been written with difficulty, and to the neglect of the 
 perhaps greater duties of dressing the children’s dolls and making sails 
 for their boats. 
 
 il With dearest love, ever yours, 
 
 “ P. J.” 
 
- 
 
 ■ 
 
1848. set. 40. 
 
 LOWESTOFT. 
 
 183 
 
 February 25. — My birthday, forty, pregnant enough with 
 thoughts ! Also, I have contemplated my past mercies, countless, 
 priceless above all in my mother, what a blessing to have 
 possessed for forty years ; how beyond all words to tell. Lord 
 pity those who are deprived of this gift. My dearest husband 
 and children came into my room this morning, (I kept in bed 
 with side ache), the darlings carrying vases of sweet spring 
 flowers, and he with a beautiful present of volume two of Lady 
 Willoughby. He knelt down with the four, and in tender precious 
 prayer commended the unworthy mother to mercy. My sense of 
 falling short as a mother, oh ! it is intense. This afternoon a 
 delightful little ministerial visit from our dear pastor. He read 
 Hebrews xii, and prayed. I only desire I may, fully drink the 
 good, unspoilt by any human mixtures. 
 
 The next extract is from a letter written at Lowestoft, where 
 she passed some weeks of the following summer : — 
 
 * * * “ Aunt Catherine is very, very infirm. Aunt Cunningham more 
 
 surprising and more delicious than ever, her drawing-room like a fairy land, 
 of pictures, flowers, and pretty things ; her garden delightful, she skimming 
 down the ninety steps many times a day ; she herself a sunbeam, brightly 
 dressed, brightly looking, brightly speaking, singing, and drawing.” 
 
 Writing from the same place, in a letter to Lady Parry, she 
 says : — 
 
 * * * “ And now be persuaded to spend the precious hour from four 
 till five wisely; that is, on your own entire rest and refreshment. I cannot 
 say how clearly I see this to be your duty. Lie on the sofa with a delightful 
 
184 HEALTH. 1848. set. 40. 
 
 book, never mind bow light, poetry or whatever may chance. Your children 
 are grown up, keep ahead of them in polite literature, and, at all events, rest 
 your dear body and mind. I think we ought to keep our best dress, that is, 
 our best mind, for best occasions, and contrive to satisfy the lesser claims 
 with odds and ends ; and that with the expending lives we lead, and the 
 necessity for liveliness and freshness, it is a most important principle to 
 secure for self one hour in the morning, and one in the afternoon, the former 
 for the soul, the latter for the mind.” 
 
 “ Southwold, July 10. 
 
 “ I must say the value of my life looks rather appalling to me ; and 
 indeed I feel it my duty to cherish and preserve it. The doctor has 
 frightened me rather about my health. Oh ! how such warnings ought to 
 bring me ever and ever again to the point of definite, distinct preparation 
 of the most renewed and reiterated grasping the Anchor, and this, I 
 may humbly say, they do in a feeble measure. Yet, oh how necessary the 
 daily fountain for sins of heart and of tongue, self-satisfied thoughts, and 
 hasty words, and omissions of duty ; how fearfully they do abound ; yet 
 how deeply, how thoroughly do I feel and see the bed to be large enough 
 to spread oneself upon, with all one's sins, the garment broad enough to 
 wrap all over. * * * The second edition is very engrossing. I feel a 
 
 sort of throb about Sir R. Inglis, or anybody who speaks up for the right. 
 May the Lord's power be put forth to vindicate the cause of truth; and 
 for its advocates, Milton’s lines come involuntarily into my mind — 
 
 “And chiefly Thou, oh Spirit ! that dost prefer 
 Before all temples the upright heart and pure, 
 
 Instruct me, for Thou knowest ; * * * * 
 
 * * * * w h a t in m e is dark 
 
 Illumine ; what is low raise and support.” 
 
 “ September 28. 
 
 “ How truly touching it is to find in children conduct influenced by 
 health. It shows us how much, and how tender allowance should be made 
 for an irritable or restless state. I truly sometimes pity and compassionate 
 
1848-9. set. 40-1. 
 
 STATUE OF HER FATHER. 
 
 185 
 
 myself for nervous infirmities, which excite strong inward, if not outward 
 irritability, while at the same time, I live under a sense of their sin, that 
 it is hard to get from under it, and to feel any sunshine at all within. 
 But oh ! what a mercy it is to know that compassion is the verj r characteristic 
 of our blessed Master, and that He pitieth us with a proportionate depth 
 of knowledge and of mercy, and that a hungering and thirsting after righteous- 
 ness shall eventually be satisfied. We shall some day “ drink of the river 
 of His pleasures.” What a marvellous truth.” 
 
 After seeing the statue of her father in Westminster Abbey : — 
 
 “ November 16. 
 
 “ My dearest Mother — 
 
 “ My first topic is the dear precious statue, which we saw yesterday 
 in the Abbey. We heard the evening before of its being ready. As we 
 got there, the congregation was just coming out: the verger forbad us 
 to go in, but on my supplicating to see one statue, he asked if we belonged 
 to the family, and then kindly let us pass. We swiftly reached the place, 
 and there it was, looking most delightful, so benignant, intellectual, and 
 like ; far far improved since I saw it last, the size is moderated by the 
 scene around, and the colour of it most refined. It was growing, in a 
 degree, dusk, and really it looked most spiritual. I could hut be very 
 thankful to see such a work so accomplished. When we got home, there 
 was the second edition, I sat up at night to cut it through and glance at 
 it ; it looked most attractive. Indeed the day was to me a sacred one, 
 and most touching in its extreme interest and true gratification.” 
 
 Objects of intercession this day, Jan. 17 : — Ellen Buxton, my 
 god-child, her first birthday ; Fowell, junior, gone off to school 
 this morning ; his precious parents ; the dear Leathams, who have 
 just lost their child Frank ; the John Frys, in bitter anxiety about 
 Rachel ; J ohn C. Backhouse and his precious boy, the anniversary 
 
FAILING HEALTH. 
 
 186 
 
 1849. set. 41. 
 
 of Anna’s death ; my own most dear mother ; besides my own 
 regular list, my dearest husband, each child, and governess, ser- 
 vants, my dearest friend, and her brothers and sisters, and many 
 more. 
 
 The following letter to Lady Parry, on the advantages of 
 school for girls, is dated April 21 : — 
 
 “ I have been reflecting on my own experience, and it is this — that I 
 gained greatly. I gained most important advantages in tone of education 
 as well as in actual acquirement ; I gained some ease of manner, and that 
 sort of undefined enlargement which there is in familiar intercourse with 
 persons of a new sort ; but, above all, I think I gained religious decision. 
 Having been so carefully trained, and never, as it were, exposed to any doubt 
 what was right, and what was to be done, the fact of being left to keep my 
 own ground, to fight for myself as to religious retirement, etc., and the con- 
 tinual consideration of which course did I choose (something like a youth at 
 college), I believe was made, through grace and mercy, one of the most 
 important processes I ever went through. Everything in nature wants a 
 fillip, a little extra stimulus and help — the egg must break, the bud must 
 burst. And then returning home is the exact stimulus the bud wants to 
 open widely into the fragrant rose. There is nothing like, in my judgment, 
 the regularity, discipline, self denial, and entirely new and educational 
 atmosphere of a school. May you, darling, be rightly guided, and see rich 
 fruit either way, and this you will. I do enjoy your account of Grosvenor 
 Street, and long to write, 0 so much, but am sadly tired and must rest. 
 
 “ Most warmly, P. J.” 
 
 May 27. — In some way I have caught a violent cold, which has 
 laid me low. Great weakness I am brought to, this is clear : death 
 often vividly before me. (The papers I have written of my wishes 
 are in my writing table drawer) ; and yet awfully does the question 
 
1849-50. set. 41-2. 
 
 SOUTHWOLD. 
 
 return, Am I truly ready ? Does my faitli not stand in the teach- 
 ing of men, in habit and training ? Is my sold truly, vitally united 
 to Christ ? If I draw sap from Him, should I be so often sapless ? 
 
 0 God, cheer, warm, enlighten, refresh, my weak and weary 
 mind ; 
 
 “ Anoint and cheer my soiled face 
 With the abundance of Thy grace.” 
 
 1 long and crave for vigour and life ; my work seems so great, 
 so interesting ; and most painfully do I observe the cases of mother- 
 less families. This is my grievous want of faith, however ; and I 
 often feel may bring the very punishment I dread ; yet the Lord 
 is pitiful, He knows my weakness, He sees my heart, He knows I 
 would work for Him in these precious ones ; to them, I may say, 
 
 “ My cares, my joys, my griefs are given.” 
 
 This summer she suffered greatly from ill health, and remained 
 for a long time at Southwold. 
 
 Southwold, July 9. 
 
 To Lady Parry. — “ My most dear friend, — I want to write, but time 
 is short, there are such dear ones to be with. To-day aunt Cunningham 
 has flown over from Lowestoft, twelve miles before breakfast, and is now 
 putting out her heaps of roses by me, dressed in a pretty muslin gown, 
 with elegant cap, and lace pelerine, looking the very picture of health, 
 purity, and grace over the flowers. She was in her garden by five, where 
 she says there were ‘ thousands of roses,’ and here by half-past seven. 
 * * * I have finished Job with exceeding interest. There is a strong 
 lesson in it not to interfere with, or mar God’s own work in sending 
 affliction, by crude or rough treatment. Job was doing far better before 
 his friends came, than after. But all the speeches, in spite of a touch of 
 temper, are full of gems of truth and beauty.” 
 
188 
 
 DEATH OF HER AUNT CATHERINE. 
 
 1850. set. 42. 
 
 March. 1. — A word of note on this day, the birthday of two so 
 inexpressibly dear to me, my dearest fiiend and my beloved little 
 Sarah Maria. The former is too wide a subject to touch upon. 
 I have said to her that she has already lived a long life of service 
 and experience, though yet it is but full day with her, scarcely past 
 the noon, and that I can but pray, that God, who has showed 
 her such great and sore troubles, and has also turned again and 
 comforted her on every side, will continue His own blessed work of 
 enriching and favouring her, even to the end ; and this I feel a 
 confidence He will do for Christ her Saviour’s sake. Now I want 
 to record my sense of the exceeding gift I enjoy in my precious 
 little girl, Sarah Maria. I do trust a kind Providence may give 
 her a smoother, less exciting and less fatiguing childhood and youth 
 than I had. I would indeed desire her heart may be spared the 
 deep knowledge of sorrow, — I will not say the hard work with 
 my father from twenty to twenty-six, for surely that is now my 
 best treasure, my patrimony, my honour ; yet all tells upon me 
 now, and makes me the worn, the used-up person I am. I see 
 that sorrow or eventfulness in mature life, brings more experience 
 and less injury than it does earlier ; and my strong judgment 
 and earnest desire, is to shield my girls, if it may be so, from 
 undue exertions and excitements. 
 
 June 30. — Our dearest aunt Catherine has been declining 
 obviously : many have been the thoughts of death ; and on 
 Wednesday last (the 26th) it came, not without severe conflict to 
 the body, but glorious manifestations to the soul. At one time she 
 
1850-1. set. 42. visit to Scotland. 189 
 
 seemed to see heaven opened, such was her expression of joy. 
 What a mercy it was that our precious mother was there, and 
 had been for ten days ! AY hat a contemplation are the two 
 sisters, the only left of that most gifted seven who once adorned 
 the earth ! How intimate and personal has been my tie with 
 each of the five who are gone ! How were they endowed with 
 natural and spiritual gifts ! Oh ! may these most precious two 
 be yet long spared to us, and we be enabled to comfort them, 
 for Christ’s sake. 
 
 July 11. 
 
 To her Mother. — * * * “ My precious Mother, — May I venture to 
 
 say this : — Can you not, can not we all sit a little looser to each other’s 1 
 lives, than we do ? Can we not trust our precious ones to their Lord ? 
 Can we not be willing He should, if He pleases, take them into His 
 immediate care, provide for them for ever in perfect happiness ? How 
 joyfully would you give up a child to a perfect provision in this world ! 
 Let us try to extend our faith fully to the unseen world, and look upon 
 that, as a true and chief part of our lives; and if but the grace of 
 God he given, he willing the Lord should fix our children in this lower, 
 or that higher garden, as He will. I do desire that you should seek to 
 regard my life in this way, and that I should so regard my children’s.” 
 
 November 24. — In August we went forth with clearest Edward 
 and his boy Gurney, and our Andrew, to the lakes. I was much 
 better, but my cough never quite left me. A\ 7 e had much enjoy- 
 ment, both in the scenery, and in meeting the dear Robert Hankin- 
 sons at Grasmere. AYe parted at Penrith : Edward and Gurney 
 went home, and we proceeded to Scotland to our dear sister’s 
 pleasant home at Scotston Park. Our dear rector and his family 
 
190 
 
 LETTER FROM HASTINGS. 
 
 1851. set. 42. 
 
 came to us the next day after our return home, and are still our 
 most valued guests. 
 
 Early in the following winter she passed some weeks at 
 Hastings, where she was very ill. The following letter to her 
 sister, Lady Buxton, is dated 
 
 “ Hastings, January 12. 
 
 “ My powers and thoughts are weak and wandering enough now ; hut 
 yet I feel a little of the sweetness of dwelling on each of you, as it were, 
 in God’s presence, last night especially, on your precious habe, as if 
 speaking with Him about her. I cannot be thankful enough for the peace 
 granted me. What am I, thus to feel rest and confidence ? I do so see 
 my present allotment to be the very best for me. I do not like the ex- 
 pression, but I at times truly feel — ‘ Thy will I thankfully approve ’ ; even 
 the bodily uneasiness does not seem to touch the tranquillity within ; we 
 are not yet ‘ out of the wood.” Sometimes the body is worn and distressed, 
 but there seems little to do but to wait passively. I have pangs of yearning 
 after my absent ones to go through ; but my desire is to offer up my will, 
 my longings, as a living sacrifice, and in this there is often rest. What 
 has been chiefly on my mind lately has been how little and how poorly 
 we ask and seek after the help and blessing we need, for, and in, everything. 
 I have been much helped by this suggestion — to give in our relation to 
 others, children, servants, poor, neighbours, what we receive, and only what 
 we receive ; not to act from the surface of our minds, but from its deep 
 places ; not from impulse, but from a supply to be sought and obtained 
 of true sap from the true Vine. The same words, the same discipline, are 
 different in their effects, as they are the fruit of the natural heart, or that 
 of the heart united to Christ. We must pause, not only to ask a blessing 
 on what we do, but to come empty and receive from Him, to ‘ get orders,’ 
 and this especially, in the beginning of the day, to take our vessels to be 
 filled with what God is ready to give, even love, patience, gentleness, 
 courage, and firmness.” 
 

 1851. set. 43. 
 
 HALESWORTH. 
 
 191 
 
 Soon after her return to Hales worth, the following was written 
 in her journal-hook by her husband : — 
 
 “ Halesworth, February 5. 
 
 “ My own dearest, — 
 
 » “ Suffer not doubts of being reconciled to trouble you : this is a device 
 
 of the adversary. We cannot reconcile ourselves to God : it is His mighty 
 power that effects the reeoncilation with us through the precious blood of 
 Christ. That you are reconciled, I hold to be a great fact. May God give 
 you a clear sense of it in his own time. Oh ! the value of faith, so that 
 we can believe, though sense, and frames, and feelings, may be wanting. 
 ‘ For one look inwards, let us give twenty looks outwards and upwards to 
 Him,’ said Chalmers. I rejoice over thy thanksgivings. What a blessing 
 it is to have a thankful spirit; I often rejoice in the exercise of it, while 
 I endeavour to bear the daily cross without any repining ; but whose 
 strength is made perfect in thy weakness ? and if He maketli thy soul to 
 prosper, is not that far beyond outward prosperity? Cheer up, then, beloved, 
 thou wilt yet say, ‘ It is good for me that I have been afflicted.’ 
 
 “ Then as to our young ones, 0 may the Lord breathe on their 
 souls and renew them in spirit ! I desire to be instant with you in prayer 
 for them, dear, dear ones ! May the Lord grant his blessing on the sowing, 
 in which you have been indefatigable. The Lord bless thee, and keep thee, 
 and cause the light of His countenance to shine upon thee. Amen.” 
 
 April 13. 
 
 , To her Mother. — “ I am taking great care of my cough, and am resisting 
 
 every temptation to any good work. I am thoroughly comfortable, and I must 
 say, feel at rest, and in great peace. Some sense of the most blessed gift 
 of Divine favour, of being accepted, though so utterly unworthy, in the 
 entire worthiness of our Friend and Saviour, and oh ! what is this to say ! 
 I start at my own words, and yet it is so. How could I be in peace, if it 
 were not for a belief in His reconciled love May I never be deceived, or 
 rest in anything short of this. How deeply do I desire to receive the 
 dispensation in all its length, in an acquiescent, even an embracing spirit, 
 so that I may get good from it.” 
 
192 ISLE OF WIGHT. 1852. 8St. 44. 
 
 November 9. — At home alone, truly to my cross and dis- 
 cipline. My chest and cough have been so troublesome, that all 
 seem to agree I must either leave home or shut up in it. The 
 latter is clearly the easiest alternative; and, except for Sunday 
 and church, I do not feel it very difficult to submit ; hut the 
 long day on Sunday, and the miss of the help of public service, 
 is apt to bring on a dull dead state of feeling which is very 
 depressing, and I have to submit not only to outward hut to 
 inward barrenness. 
 
 Christmas Day. — They all at church, I rise from my knees 
 where the collect has spoken my heart of hearts for myself and 
 mine — “ That we may he renewed day by day by God’s Holy 
 Spirit.” I feel I want to be stirred up in fervent and simple 
 petitions for my children. Here are the merry troop, and now 
 for Christmas dinners ! 
 
 After spending the whole winter a close prisoner to the house, 
 without any improvement in her health, she left home on the 17th 
 March with her husband, three younger children, and Miss Sendall, 
 for the Isle of Wight, and remained there for about two months. 
 It was a time of much bodily suffering, from gradual, though daily 
 increasing weakness. Her mind was as active as ever; and though 
 she entered with spirit and pleasure into her children’s occupations, 
 and objects, when with them, at other times, the thought of giving 
 up life, of parting with them, cost her bitter mental conflicts, 
 subdued only by the grace and patience given her of God. 
 
 Her mother and sister Chenda joined her at Yentnor, and from 
 
LETTERS. 
 
 1852. set. 44. 
 
 193 
 
 that time were constantly with her. The following are short 
 extracts from her last letters : — 
 
 Boncliurch, Sunday, March 21. 
 
 To Lady Parry. — “ My dearest, — I think I may indulge in a few minutes 
 with you in the course of this long, though happy and peaceful morning. 
 My dear little S. M. and I are spending it together, the others are gone to 
 church at Yentnor. I feel my reposing morning most precious, and indeed 
 our whole life here is full of indulgence and luxury. Oh ! that all our blessings 
 may he more sanctified, and enriched and filled with blessings. I feel this 
 is the case in measure : some sense of filial love and confidence seems 
 graciously given. I think of you in your full and serving Sunday so contrasted 
 with mine : may it be full of the Master’s company and smile. I am convinced 
 that I am getting on decidedly.” 
 
 Bonchurch, March 23. 
 
 To her Sister Lady Buxton. — “ We are really very prospering, though I 
 do not find any difference yet in my cough, and at times am nervous enough, 
 but my appetite is better, and I am able to bear going out. To-day the 
 weather is most delicious, and we are going to drive to Shanklin — some to 
 walk home. I often sketch — yes, 4 still in our ashes live their wonted fires,’ — 
 and some of these scenes are irresistible, and then when I have the pencil 
 scrawl, the principle of finishing, so strong within me, forces me to touch it 
 up in ink.” 
 
 Yentnor, April 14. 
 
 To the same. — “ I wish I might be at your darling’s baptism ; hut I must 
 say the future does seem unusually obscure just now to me. I am certainly 
 discouraged about myself ; but we must wait on, and trust that light will 
 come ; and O that I may not only submit, but acquiesce and embrace all 
 parts and branches of our present dispensation, assured of its abounding love 
 and wisdom ! and if restoration be the result, all is little. I truly feel the 
 many enjoyments of our position.” 
 
 April 21. 
 
 To the same. — “ I sometimes feel as if your large London rooms would 
 be an inexpressible relief to my tight breath; but I am better to-day. I 
 
RETURN HOME. 
 
 1852. set. 44. 
 
 have dwelt much ou the text of the day — ‘ The hand of the Lord is over them 
 for good that seek Him.’” 
 
 April 30. 
 
 To Lady Parry. — * * * “I am grieved to hear of toothache, and really 
 
 covet it for myself, who am given up to the petting of the poor body, and to 
 whom pain without anxiety seems comparatively light, though I should 
 grumble enough I daresay if I had it. I have felt remarkably weak and low 
 the last day or two, almost as if every twelve hours took away some strength. 
 Now about our visit to you. Shall we not be too many ? But I shrink from 
 parting from the children under our uncertainties. For myself I feel 
 strongly, though I continually desire to be guarded from leaning too much on 
 an arm of flesh, that the means God may be pleased to bless, to give me a 
 lift, would be, to be placed for a time under your government, and in the 
 cheering supporting influence of Haslar.” 
 
 A week was spent with Sir Edward and Lady Parry at Haslar, 
 and then she moved to her brother Edward’s house in Lon Ion, 
 spending the night before her journey home, with her brother 
 Fowell at Leytonstone. During these visits, the tender care and 
 nursing she received, soothed days of rapidly increasing illness. 
 
 10, Upper Grosvenor Street, May 18. 
 
 To Lady Parry. — “ My own darling, — The chase after a word with you 
 is quite worrying to-day ; I am well able, but there are so many about to see 
 and enjoy. Oh! your notes are so precious and helpful, you will still feed 
 me I know, yet you must not burden yourself, for I feel you must be very 
 fully occupied. Do I not fancy you now more than ever, and all your dear 
 party! I have never offered to thank Sir Edward for all he did for us, and 
 bore from us : I am afraid to begin with thanks. 
 
 “ Last night, dearest, the enemy — nervousness — had an hour of victory, 
 such as almost drives one to despair; but I have just had such a comforting 
 and truly pithy little visit from Mr. Reeve — 1 He whom thou lovest is 
 
1852. get. Tl. RETURN HOME 
 
 sick' — not He who loves thee. Our love to Him will not do to lean upon, it 
 baffles and fails us ; but His to us is settled and immoveable. I bad been 
 too much seeking for my love to Him ; now quite tired. 
 
 “ Most tenderly, P. J.” 
 
 She was much comforted by seeing all her brothers and sisters, 
 and many of their children, and then her ardent wish was satisfied, 
 by her reaching home in safety on the 2-lth of May. 
 
 Halesworth, May 26. 
 
 To Lady Parry — “My own dearest, — The wave of arrival has been a 
 very great one, I almost thought we were gone, but we are breathing again on 
 the other side. Chenda is devotedly kind and careful ; but, darling, the idea 
 intensely near me is of fatal illness, how speedy I know not; my mind and 
 heart are teeming with the feeling — above all, my own soul ! Oh ! for the 
 spiritual mind — the mind of Christ. I do trust the close work of yielding to 
 part is going on in me ; my dearest one is my greatest earthly stay — the 
 children well and bright — but, oh! dear things!” 
 
 “ May 31. 
 
 “ If possible, one line, my dearly beloved. We have just had the 
 Sacrament with dear R. E. H., M. Badeley, and Miss Sendall ; it has lifted 
 me in body and soul ; but, darling, nothing so much as your dearest letter of 
 Friday. Bless you for all you are, and have been to me, for twenty-eight 
 years ! I was inexpressibly helped last night by that text — ‘ The Holy Ghost 
 x maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.’ Now 
 He is groaning for me!” 
 
 June 3, 1852. 
 
 To the same. — * * * “ How much I want to say. A great peace 
 is spread over my mind, I have so committed and yielded my soul and body 
 to my God. I feel so sleepy in His arms, I rest there. I do wish that He 
 only should do, and He has tenderly helped me.” 
 
 195 
 
 DD 
 
INCREASED ILLNESS. 
 
 196 
 
 1852. set. 44. 
 
 June 10. 
 
 To the same. — “ My own dearest friend, — Wonderful is the difficulty of 
 writing, my heart has been full for days, especially since the Admiral died, 
 and I could not write. How I feel all your interests and efforts, words can- 
 not say, hut oh the comfort that your day's work, as friends say, ‘ has kept 
 pace with your day,’ so that there are no real arrears, only to sign and seal, 
 and wind up. The girls’ letters have been delightful to me ; Priscilla’s a real 
 cordial ; thank my dearest Lousia too. I am better this afternoon ; but I 
 now almost always feel ill, except just now, it is strange, I feel better than I 
 have done for days." 
 
 * * * “ I have indeed strongly felt last night and to-day, that to 
 
 wait till July 14 to see you appeared out of the case. I cannot feel that there 
 is reasonable safety in waiting till then ; I suspect the sink is rapid. Now 
 evening — a day of deep illness. Your note is some pain. I do not know how 
 to give up seeing you again ; but the Lord is with us I may say, and 
 He will be. 
 
 “Most tenderly, P. J.” 
 
 “ My precious mother is a wonderful saint, and Ghenda such a strength, 
 all tenderness and power. My cutting feelings are about the three elder 
 ones; but I leave all.” 
 
 The following note is from A. J. to his brother-in-law, T. F. 
 Buxton : — 
 
 “ Halesworth, June 13. 
 
 “ My dear Fowell, many thanks for your note and great kindness. I 
 grieve to say that Priscilla is very poorly to-day ; there is an uncomfortable 
 drowsiness clinging to her, which, if it continues, I fear is the forerunner of a 
 change. 
 
 “ We have come down rapidly within the last week, and there is no sign 
 of rally. I would fain hope that Effie may be in time to be recognized 
 by her mother, the mind is still bright ; but this drowsiness comes over 
 it like a curtain. I have written for the boys, and hope to have them home 
 on Tuesday. I grieve, dear brother, that we are so far apart at this season 
 
1852. set. 44-. her mother’s journal. 197 
 
 of affliction ; but it is the will of the Lord. I know that you and Rachel 
 heartily sympathize with us, and pray for us. 
 
 “ Ever with dear love, 
 
 “ Your afflicted and affectionate brother, 
 
 “ Andrew Johnston.” 
 
 “ What a blessing it is, that the spiritual mind of my beloved one is 
 without a cloud.” 
 
 Her mother thus writes in her journal of the same day : — 
 
 “ Unshaken in her confidence that eternal love is in this fiery 
 trial, on this she dwelt fully and powerfully, that not one degree 
 of heat is permitted that is not for a purpose — for her further 
 refinement and the glory of God. 
 
 “ She said yesterday that she could not choose one thing con- 
 trary to what was laid upon her, — she did hut desire the will 
 of the Lord to be done, — she knew it was all right, and in love, 
 whatever He inflicted. 
 
 “ She is continually thinking of herself as the child in its 
 mother’s arms. ‘ The mother holds it fast, the child can only 
 cling, but the mother’s arms secure it. This is my experience : I 
 must be held in the arms of Christ.’ 
 
 “Monday, June 14. — She was very low and distressed after a 
 trying night, but said — ‘It has been one of much prayer for the 
 children, which was a comfort to me.’ 
 
 “ She was impatient to see her absent children — ‘ Oh ! if I 
 might be spared to see them again.’ But when the meeting was 
 over, she spoke of the suffering and conflict she had gone through — 
 
198 
 
 THE LAST DAYS. 
 
 1852. set, 44. 
 
 : I never could bear such tidal again ; but the Lord was my 
 Refuge and Strength.’ 
 
 “ In the course of the day she herself chose a story which 
 she thought would be interesting to her boys for their evening 
 reading, and we all read it together in her room. 
 
 “Thursday, June 17. — In this, our last morning reading, we 
 took the 2nd chapter of Ephesians, dwelling on the five last verses, 
 which she wished to have read twice over, saying, ‘ What it is 
 to be brought nigh to Christ !’ — 1 How glorious to be brought near 
 to God, to our merciful Father!’ In the afternoon, on my 
 asking her if she were comfortable, ‘ Perfectly,’ she said, ‘ I don’t 
 understand it.’ ‘ Marvellous to come to this, and find it so easy!’ 
 To her doctor, she said — ‘ I suppose the watch is nearly down ; 
 but can it be a delusion ? all is so easy.’ 
 
 “ In the evening she received the sacrament with the elder 
 children. Mr. Hankinson administered it. The service came with 
 a heavenly unction, and I think I never experienced such power 
 to lift up the heart, and to worship with the family above. We 
 were partakers of Christ, of His fulness, and our hearts and minds 
 did ascend to Him in His kingdom of glory. Her whole soul 
 seemed engaged in prayer during the administration to othei's ; 
 and we could hear her voice in supplication, though not the 
 words. It was precious thus to be brought to taste together of 
 the living bread, of that glorious eternal life into which our be- 
 loved one entered about seven hours after.” 
 
 She became visibly weaker and more faint as each hour of 
 
1852. set. 44. 
 
 HER DEATH. 
 
 199 
 
 the weary night passed away, and when the morning dawned 
 (June 18 ), all knew the end was near. Her mother said to her — 
 “ An entrance shall be administered unto you abundantly into the 
 everlasting kingdom ! ” Her face lighted up, and she repeated 
 again and again — “Abundantly !” — “Abundantly!” and as the 
 first flood of sunlight poured in through the open window, she 
 turned her face to it, exclaiming, “ How glorious ! how beautiful !” 
 Her husband said to her — “ My precious one, we shall not be 
 separated long !” She answered eagerly, “Oh, no!” and in a few 
 moments her head gently fell upon his shoulder, and she died. 
 
200 
 
 LINES ON THE FUNERAL 
 
 TO DOWAGER LADY BUXTON, 
 
 June 25 , 1852 . 
 
 The hills are heavy with their glory’s weight, 
 
 Their depth of verdure and their gush of bloom ; 
 
 The coppice bends beneath its roseate freight, 
 
 While she, unheeding, passes to her tomb. 
 
 Unheeding passes she the expectant door, 
 
 Ungreeted now the cottage porch must stand — 
 
 The gate, the porch, she never passed before 
 Without some kindly sign of eye or hand. 
 
 Nor pass'd she often ; oftener wont to turn 
 The gate within, and cheat the purpos’d walk, 
 
 Making our gladdened hearts within us burn, 
 
 Enriched, enlivened, by her various talk. 
 
 Then one * who gave the gloss and gilding here, 
 
 In her bright presence smil’d a brighter smile, 
 
 And when that light was quenched, and all was drear, 
 Our lov’d one still could my dark hours beguile. 
 
 But they in higher, holier converse meet, 
 
 Then’ powers unfetter’d, perfected their love ; 
 
 In rest, safe harbour’d at the Saviour’s feet, 
 
 Serving together in the courts above. 
 
 S. M. Buxton. 
 
AT OVERSTRAND. 
 
 201 
 
 And she a weight of greater glory bears 
 
 Than all the gems of earth, that brightest glow, 
 
 And robes of lustre more serene she wears 
 Than all the hues that earth-born blossoms show. 
 
 More pure then- lustre than her bridal vest, 
 
 Though that was burnish’d by each gladsome ray 
 
 That sparkled from the eyes of thousands blest 
 Who rose to thank her on them freedom day. 
 
 On winds the solemn train, the black’ning line 
 Slowly disparts the green and springing corn, 
 
 Tended by man’s fond love and love Divine, 
 
 She to her Father’s rest is gently borne. 
 
 Gently we laid her by the ivied wall, 
 
 Beside her lov’d ones in their deep repose ; 
 
 O’er her, in one dear bond combining all, 
 
 The song of the redeem’d of Jesus rose. 
 
 And they, who precious seed together sow’d, 
 
 And labour’d patient through the toilsome years, 
 
 Shall come again bearing their sheaves bestow’d, 
 
 In guerdon rich, when Christ the Lord appears. 
 
 And thou, who weeping sore, must now repair 
 To that lone spot, where hid thy treasures lie, 
 
 Thou too, that blessed harvest day shall share, 
 
 And meet thine own, rejoicing, eye to eye. 
 
 Anna Gurney. 
 
202 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Ten years ago, soon after Priscilla Johnston’s death, her 
 husband put together some extracts from her journals. Gradually 
 letters have been collected, and the extracts from the journal 
 revised ; and the wish has strengthened that her children, and 
 those who knew and loved her, should possess them in a readable 
 form. He was unable to give much time himself, but his ever- 
 ready sympathy and interest never failed, and until three months 
 before his death he continued a sharer in the correction of the 
 proofs. This is a precious remembrance now, when his pleasure in 
 the completion of the work is keenly missed. But he no longer 
 needs the comfort which these records gave him. He has joined 
 the blessed company who are at rest and satisfied for ever. 
 
 Illness came upon him by imperceptible degrees. Early in 
 the present year (1862) he failed in vigour and spirits, and often 
 remarked upon this himself, saying he could not understand it. 
 In April, when a cloud of sorrow rested upon many hearts, his 
 seemed the most bowed down with grief for his bereaved son 
 and daughter in the loss of their only child, and his already 
 failing strength gave way more rapidly after this heavy trial. In 
 the middle of July he left for the last time his loved home at 
 Holton, and went to London for advice. Then only was alaim 
 first aroused. He became visibly more feeble, and his memory 
 entirely failed. He was moved to Norwood, and on the 9th of 
 August to Sydenham. The disease made rapid progress, but the re- 
 membrance of those weeks will be ever stamped with thankfulness; 
 his children were all with him, and saw the grace of God shining 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 203 
 
 out in him through all, even in unconsciousness ; and patience, 
 trust, and peace, were written upon his countenance as he lay with 
 his hands folded upon his breast. He was spared all pain of part- 
 ing, all care and anxiety for those he left, and gently and gradually 
 his Saviour led him through the valley of the shadow of death. 
 
 He died early in the morning of Sunday, August 24 th, and 
 on the 29th was laid in the same grave with his wife, in the 
 ruins at Overstrand. 
 
 TILL THE HAT BREAK, A2TB THE SHADOWS FLEE A WAT.” 
 
CARLISLE : 
 
 C. THITRNAM AND SONS, PRINTERS.