THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Prom the collection of 
 Julius Doerner, Chicago 
 Purchased, 1918. 
 

 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
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 https://archive.org/details/domesticportrait00rich_0 
 
DOMESTIC PORTRAITURE 
 
 OR THE SUCCESSFUL APPLICATION OF 
 
 RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLE 
 
 IN THE EDUCATION OF A FAMILY, EXEMPLIFIED IN 
 
 THE MEMOIRS OF THREE OF THE DECEASED CHILDREN 
 
 OF 
 
 THE REV. LEGH RICHMOND, 
 
 PUBLISHED BY R. B. SEELEY AND W. BURNSIDE: 
 AND SOLD BY L. B. SEELEY AND SONS, 
 FLEET STREET, LONDON. 
 MDCCCXXXIII. 
 
PRINTKD 
 
 BY L. B. SEELEY AND SONS, WESTON GREEN, 
 THAMES DITTON. 
 

 7 . 
 
 / 833 
 
 TO MRS. RICHMOND. 
 
 
 Allow me to present to you the following little 
 work, in which I have endeavoured to draw out 
 your late husband’s plan of education, and to 
 illustrate its success in the conversion of three 
 of his children. The materials placed in my 
 hands appeared to me too valuable to be buried 
 in oblivion ; and I am persuaded I shall receive 
 the thanks of every Christian parent for having 
 brought before them such an exemplar to direct 
 and encourage them in their own labours. My 
 excellent friend has long since been known as a 
 minister of the gospel and the advocate of our 
 religious societies, and his praise is in all the 
 churches.” But in the following pages it will be 
 seen that his private character, as the father of a 
 family, shone with no less bright a lustre, and is 
 worthy to be held in still higher estimation. 
 
 700150 
 
VI 
 
 My heart’s desire and prayer to God for you 
 and for every member of your family is, that 
 you may continue to follow Christ after the 
 example of your instructor and guide, and under 
 the influence of the ' same spirit, may bear an 
 honourable testimony to the nature and worth 
 of vital religion. I am, be assured, with the 
 highest esteem and affection. 
 
 Your faithful servant, * 
 
 The Author. 
 
TO THE READER 
 
 If any apology be deemed needful in presenting 
 to the public another volume connected with Mr. 
 Richmond’s name and memory, we might refer to 
 the lively interest with which the productions of 
 his pen have ever been received, and the frequent 
 demand made for more of his correspondence. It 
 must be remembered that the letters now pub- 
 lished were not intended to be read by any one 
 beyond the circle of his own family, and they are 
 not introduced on the present occasion as speci- 
 mens of extraordinary talent and composition, but 
 with a view to exhibit the unwearied efforts of a 
 Christian father in the education of his children, 
 and to encourage those who are engaged in the 
 same pursuit to hope to the end, while they dili- 
 gently persevere in the use of means, since they 
 
Vlll 
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 may here contemplate another proof that God is 
 faithful to his promise — Train up a child in the 
 way he should go, and when he is old he will 
 not depart from it.” 
 
 It has not been the design of the Editor to 
 censure others, who may adopt a mode of 
 education somewhat different, or to claim for 
 his friend or himself an exclusive right to 
 dictate to the Church of God. Mr. R. had, 
 in some respects, his peculiarities, and men 
 must judge for themselves as to their imitation 
 of them ; but there can be no mistake in 
 earnestly recommending to their regard his zeal 
 and love — his devout and heavenly spirit — his 
 consistent and firm preference of eternal to 
 temporal advantages, and the evident blessing 
 of God, which crowned with success his method 
 of instructing his family. May the same divine 
 blessing accompany the present humble attempt 
 to promote the glory of God and the spiritual 
 good of men. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Remarks on Education — Public Morals — Public and 
 Private Education page 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Mr, Richmond's Plan of Education — Amusements 
 for leisure hours — the Kaleidescope — the Solar 
 System page 18 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Usual Amusements of young people excluded — 
 Keeping of birth days — Letters on these occasions 
 — Choice of companions — Home correspondence — 
 Discipline — Letters to his children page 40 
 
X 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Residence at the University — Letter to a young man 
 matriculating at Cambridge — Subjects omitted in 
 Mr. Richmond's plan. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Nugent Richmond — Sponsorship — Letter to 
 sponsors — Remarks on the ministry — Nugent sent 
 to sea — Occurrences in India — Letters to his 
 parents — His expected return — His death. 
 
 page 137 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Life of Wilberforce Richmond — His childhood — Letter to 
 his Father — Mr. Richmond's letters to Wilberforce 
 in his childhood . — Wilberforce^ s early character and 
 letters — Lines on Wilberforce' s birth-day — Mr. 
 Richmond's letters to him. page 183 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Latter days of Wilberforce — His illness — Visit to Scot- 
 land — Return — Conversations with his father. 
 
 page 233 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Closing hours of his life — Conversations with his family 
 — His death — Mr. Richmond's letter to his Parish- 
 ioners. page 290 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XI 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Mr. Richmond's third Daughter — his letters to her — 
 Marriage Admonitions — Conversation with the 
 Author — her Sickness and Death page 332 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Concluding Remarks page 369 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Fragments relating to Lydia G , of Newcastle on 
 
 Tyne 377 
 
FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Quoniam refert a quibus et quo quisque modo sit institutus. 
 
 Quintillian. * 
 
 The importaace of education has ever been ac- 
 knowledged by all civilized communities. To 
 the diffusion of knowledge, and its influence on 
 the economy of life, may be traced the superiority 
 of one age and country over another ; and it is 
 the neglect or the cultivation of their minds, 
 which forms the only true distinction between 
 man and his fellow. 
 
 The education of their youth was esteemed by 
 some nations as so intimately connected with the 
 
 > It is of great moment by whom and in what manner every 
 one is educated/’ 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 REMARKS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 public weal, that they placed the children of the 
 subject under the superintendence of teachers 
 chosen by the state ; a practice which, no doubt, 
 inspired a political patriotism, but at the expence 
 of many better feelings, and with the enfeebling, 
 if not dissolving, those parental ties, on which 
 the conduct and happiness of life must greatly 
 depend. 
 
 There have been many writers on this subject, 
 and widely differing from each other in their respec- 
 tive theories. The opinions of some are so ex- 
 travagant and opposed to all sound practical 
 wisdom, as scarcely to deserve an allusion. Who 
 could have supposed that a grave and intelligent 
 author would recommend a parent to leave his 
 child without instruction until nearly the age of 
 manhood, under the pretence of not embarrassing 
 freedom of thought? If such a strange conceit 
 could be acted upon, it would soon reduce an 
 enlightened people to the condition of barbarians. 
 But the experiment is impracticable, for “ the 
 process in the formation of character, though rude 
 and ruinous by neglect, will go on.” From the 
 cradle to the grave, a succession of hourly events 
 and influences of a thousand kinds will gradually 
 and ultimately establish habits, and give a capa- 
 city for happiness or misery on an entrance into 
 the eternal world according to their result. A 
 
REMARKS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 3 
 
 bias of some kind or other will be received, and 
 the only alternative for our choice is, whether that 
 predisposition which arises from the inculcation of 
 good principles, and a reliance on authority for 
 a time, is not preferable to the impulse of corrupt 
 inclination and the influence of more corrupt 
 communication. 
 
 There have been other writers who seem dis- 
 posed to consider man as the mere creature of 
 circumstances, and education as forming the 
 only ground of difference between the judge on 
 the bench and the prisoner at the bar.” These 
 attach too great an importance to human effort and 
 the force of habit, when they compare a rational 
 agent to the plant of the field, and expect that he 
 will of necessity take his form and shape from the 
 hand of the cultivator. If they do not deny in 
 plain terms the need of divine interposition, they 
 make no appeal to it, and seem to regard it as 
 superfluous to the purposes and ends of education. 
 But whatever value we set on moral culture, its 
 failure, in many instances, — a failure so great that 
 corrupt nature seems as it were exasperated to 
 evil by the very means employed for its correc- 
 tion, — affords a mournful proof, that ‘‘ it is a poor 
 centre of a man s actions, himself'' Another equally 
 affecting fact leads us to look higher than mere 
 human agency ; for have not many useful and 
 
 B 
 
4 
 
 REMARKS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 virtuous characters sometimes appeared like lights 
 in the midst of darkness, emerging from influences 
 the least calculated to warrant such an expecta- 
 tion. It never must be concealed or forgotten by 
 a teacher, that “ God worketh both to will and to 
 do of his good pleasure.” He gives to the mind its 
 first impulse, and directs every step in its progress 
 wherever the culture of man is successful. Inde- 
 pendence is no attribute of a creature ; and to 
 challenge success as the necessary result of our 
 own efforts is a presumption no less opposed to 
 reason than denounced by revelation. Not by 
 might, nor by power, but by my spirit, saith the 
 Lord.” 
 
 There is a third error which has its advocates. 
 While some attribute too much to human culture, 
 others expect too little from it. There is a pride 
 which inspires an undue confidence in the use 
 of means, and there is an indolent reliance on 
 divine aid which vainly looks for an end without 
 them, and disposes men to neglect or wholly dis- 
 regard them. This perversion of a truth generates 
 a reckless feeling, and has done great mischief in 
 religious families. It is perhaps a chief cause 
 of the melancholy spectacle not unfrequently 
 exhibited in the ruin of many children whose 
 parents have professed to respect and value Chris- 
 tian principles. They " seem to overlook both 
 
REMARKS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 5 
 
 the precept and the promise of the word of God/ — 
 
 Train up a child in the way in which he should 
 go and when he is old he will not depart 
 from it.” 
 
 But dismissing whatever is chimerical or mis- 
 taken in these theories, (for it is not to my pur- 
 pose to carry the discussion to a greater length) I 
 would observe, that to train and 'pre'pare the soul 
 for its eternal destiny is the proper business and end 
 of education. It must be admitted that there are 
 subordinate ends which may be desired, and means 
 of the same character which may be employed for 
 their attainment : that a competent provision ; 
 acquirements which will render us respectable in 
 life ; all that is connected with the security and 
 promotion of present happiness, are lawful objects 
 of pursuit, and it is folly to neglect or despise them. 
 In many cases it would be a dereliction of duty ; 
 for we must not consider ourselves as insulated 
 beings, and ‘‘go out of the world,” but continue in it 
 as “ the salt of the earth,” to dispense a purifying 
 influence. I am not the advocate of superstition 
 or eccentricity ; but I contend that the chief end 
 of education is to train for eternity. There may 
 be an awful consistency in the sentiments of those 
 whose hopes and prospects are bounded by time, 
 when they say. We and our children will eat and 
 drink, for to-morrow we die. But, independently 
 
G 
 
 PUBLIC MORALS. 
 
 of revelation, and assuming only the belief of a 
 future state, — a state to be determined by our 
 conduct in the present world, it follows as a 
 necessary consequence, that whatever we teach 
 or do, ought to have a bearing on another 
 condition of being, and be made subservient 
 to its interests. Here I stand on the vantage 
 ground, and fear not to make my appeal to every 
 thinking man ; not only whether the welfare of a 
 future life can be reasonably set aside, and children 
 taught to despise and disregard it, but whether it 
 be consistent with the expectation of another 
 world to give it less than the chief and foremost 
 place in our thoughts and actions. It cannot be 
 regarded as subordinate or secondary without 
 exciting a just suspicion that we do not admit its 
 existence. Such an appeal may be made with 
 still greater force to an avowed disciple of the 
 Christian faith. The whole bearing of revelation 
 goes to this point, Seek first the kingdom of 
 God.” Let it be observed that the question is not 
 here one of mere opinion. Few would venture 
 to deny the principle, for this would be to deny 
 the authority of the principle ; but we must look 
 to opinion as realized in practice, and insist on the 
 propriety and necessity of interweaving religious 
 principle as a golden thread in the whole texture 
 of education ; deriving from it the motives, the 
 
PUBLIC MORALS. 
 
 7 
 
 means, and the end ; and so steadily keeping in 
 view the final result, as to make a cheerful sacri- 
 fice of every thing which would be likely to 
 impair or interfere with it. 
 
 I may be censured for rashly libelling the 
 community in which we live, yet it must be 
 apparent to an unprejudiced mind, that for the 
 most part we are a jiation of Christians by pro- 
 fession, and of heathens in opinion and practice. 
 Christianity may have improved the moral sense, 
 or at least driven into the shade the grosser 
 abominations of ancient times, but it is a palpable 
 fact, that the Bible is not our standard ; nor a pro- 
 vision for the world to come, our object, and end. 
 Are not our motives derived from reputation, in- 
 terest, or gratification ; and were not these the 
 fulcrum employed by the gentile world to move 
 the youthful mind to exertion? What are the 
 virtues which are prized and commended? We 
 hear of a becoming pride — a conscious dignity — a 
 noble ambition — a deserved scorn and contempt — 
 a just revenge — dispositions and impulses of cor- 
 rupt nature which are totally condemned by the 
 word of God. In what light are many acknow- 
 ledged vices regarded by us ? The Christian and 
 the heathen moralist equally reprobate murder, 
 impurity, and fraud ; and legislators of every age 
 have enacted laws to deter from their com- 
 
8 
 
 PUBLIC MORALS. 
 
 mission ; but do we not in a multitude of in- 
 stances endeavour to hide the enormity of these 
 crimes, when we cannot alter their character, 
 and talk of a proper defence of honour, an 
 affair of gallantry, and a fortunate stroke of 
 policy ? 
 
 ‘‘ All these things the Gentiles did,” and we, 
 though professing to know God, by our imitation 
 of their actions, dishonour him. Even when a 
 stricter rule of morals is approved, the leading 
 feature of heathen ages is still retained, and a 
 boy is taught by the example of his teacher, and 
 by the conduct of all around him, to regard 
 religion as an affair of secondary importance, — at 
 best to be viewed with awe at a distance — not to 
 be brought into contact with all . his aims and 
 ends ; as a something he must submit to of ne? 
 cessity, rather than choose as a source of his 
 purest enjoyment. The peculiarities of the 
 gospel, in principle, disposition, and conduct, 
 are so far from being applauded or enforced, 
 that the very reference to them on any occa- 
 sion, would expose him to suspicion, scorn, and 
 reproach . 
 
 This is no idle declamation, but a simple state- 
 ment of facts ; and it is worth while to enquire 
 the cause of so lamentable a departure from the 
 character of true Christianity. 
 
PUBLIC MORALS. 
 
 9 
 
 We will therefore examine the course of edu- 
 cation pursued in this country, as it is con- 
 ducted in public schools or by private tuition, 
 and which if carried on, is usually completed at 
 one of the universities. 
 
 A public school presents some advantages. 
 These consist chiefly, perhaps, in the superior 
 ability and attainments of the masters, who are 
 generally selected from the ablest scholars of the 
 age. The pleas often urged, of the value of con- 
 nections, and the knowledge of the world, (which 
 to boys can neither be necessary nor useful,) 
 seems to carry little weight ; and if allowed 
 to possess any, is more than counterbalanced 
 by the evils arising out of numbers, bad com- 
 panions, and the neglect of the holy scriptures ; 
 which lay a foundation for habits and conduct 
 in life beyond measure injurious. Many private 
 schools abound with the same evils, and offer 
 fewer advantages than the larger establishments. 
 In both cases, it has been justly observed, in- 
 struction may be secured in the school-room, but 
 education is carried on in the play-ground, or in 
 the dormitory. There is seldom at such seasons 
 any superintendence. Neither the eye nor the 
 ear of the master is with his pupils, and they 
 are, for the most part, left without controul or 
 restraint, to follow the devices of their own 
 
10 
 
 PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 
 
 minds. A few elder boys prescribe the standard 
 of opinion and conduct, and whatever may be 
 erroneous or corrupt in the leaders, finds a ready 
 acquiescence from those below them. Painful 
 are the details of a Tyro, who either boasts or 
 laments the fruits of these evil communications. 
 
 The neglect of religion in public schools has 
 often been asserted, and the charge repelled with 
 indignation. Certain it is, however, that the 
 greater number of pupils leave these establish- 
 ments and enter into life, with an ignorance and 
 indifference towards religion, or with an avowed 
 contempt for it. They have no idea of viewing 
 it as the end of their being, — the rule of their 
 conduct, and to be carried by them as a govern- 
 ing principle into every event and transaction 
 of life. It has evidently not been a prominent 
 feature in their past studies. A form of prayer, 
 a chapter in the Greek testament on the 
 Sunday, or an exercise for the memory from 
 some elementary author, (and such I believe to 
 be the amount of religious instruction,) are poor 
 substitutes for a constant reference to the com- 
 mands and promises, the motives and models of 
 the Bible, — for a diligent cultivation of right habits 
 and opinions. Can it be said with any truth that 
 the word of God is read daily, or pains taken in 
 its application to the heart and conscience. Al- 
 
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 
 
 11 
 
 though a decent respect may be inculcated for re- 
 velation, is a boy instructed by his teacher to regard 
 the world as a bauble, and the service of God as 
 his glory ? Are sinful tempers watched over and 
 reproved ? Are heavenly dispositions cultivated 
 and encouraged, with a close and intimate inspec- 
 tion of morals and the employment of leisure 
 hours? They can best answer these questions 
 who have been the victims of vices contracted 
 in our public schools; or who, when awakened to 
 real principle and piety in after years, have 
 endured throughout life a kind of martyrdom 
 in conflicting with the sinful habits of their 
 youthful career. 
 
 The chief studies in our public seminaries are 
 the classics. Science, till of late years, formed 
 no part of them, nor has it even now more than a 
 small share of the seven or eight years devoted 
 to acquire an imperfect acquaintance with the 
 authors of Greece and Rome. 
 
 The objections made to the use of heathen 
 authors in Christian education are not always 
 valid. Classical knowledge forms a good founda- 
 tion for theological attainment, while it is con- 
 sidered as the handmaid of religion, and is made 
 subservient to its purposes. An illiterate ministry 
 is never a safe one, nor can a sound and accurate 
 interpretation of the word of truth be expected 
 
12 
 
 PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 
 
 without a knowledge of the original languages, 
 and without that disposition to sober and patient 
 investigation, which the habits and discipline 
 of the mind, under proper culture, seldom fail 
 to inspire. 
 
 These objections apply rather to the manner 
 of teaching the classics, — to their being viewed as 
 an end, not a means, and to the measure of time 
 and attention bestowed on them, to the exclusion 
 of more important subjects which would counter- 
 act the evils incident to them. 
 
 While discussing the merits of school educa- 
 tion, I cannot refrain from adverting to a modern 
 system, which discards the aid of religion in the 
 hours of instruction. I view this novel experi- 
 ment with extreme alarm. The reduction of 
 expence, and a plausible pretence to liberality 
 of sentiment, has prevailed on men of real piety 
 to give their sanction to it, and they have been 
 seduced, in their simplicity, to approve a plan more 
 worthy, of the enemies of religion than of its 
 friends. The classical tutor must take the Bible 
 in his hand with every book of instruction, or the 
 mind of his pupil will necessarily be exposed to 
 the daily influence of many things which are 
 false in principle and vicious in practice. He will 
 insensibly be led to prefer knowledge to its right 
 use and application, and to estimate talent above 
 
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 
 
 13 
 
 piety. He will despise as unworthy of the manly 
 age, the principles confined to the nursery and 
 the family, and which are never brought before 
 him by those whom he is taught to regard with 
 superior veneration and respect. We may boast 
 of the march of intellect, and treat with super- 
 cilious contempt the example and usages of 
 former ages, but the diffusion of unsanctified 
 knowledge will prove a great evil to the com- 
 munity. The feeblest recognition of a Deity, 
 and the admission only of the forms of religion — 
 nay, even superstition itself is preferable to the 
 entire exclusion of all reference to a divine 
 power. 
 
 No institution,” said my excellent friend, 
 
 can or ought to stand, in which Christ is not 
 the foundation ; and I wholly disapprove of all 
 schemes which deliberately shut God out of their 
 direction.” 
 
 To schools, and particularly to the manner in 
 which they are conducted, Mr. Richmond felt 
 the strongest repugnance. The sentiments which 
 I have laid before the reader are in fact the 
 substance of conversations with him on these 
 subjects. He never spoke without emotion when 
 he recollected the vices which his eldest son had 
 contracted by a public education, and the sad 
 influence of bad connections formed under those 
 
14 
 
 PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 
 
 circumstances, and which, counteracting the good 
 . effects of early instruction at home, caused the 
 ruin, as he used to say, ‘ of his poor wanderer.’ 
 He resolved in consequence to adopt the plan 
 of home education^ with the assistance of a private 
 tutor. 
 
 Private teaching has certainly some disadvan- 
 tages, but they are few in comparison of the benefits 
 secured. I grant that there is a danger of irregu- 
 larity in the hours of study, arising from visitors 
 and invitations — the severity of needful discipline 
 may be softened into a mischievous relaxation by 
 affection ill-directed and unduly interfering with 
 the teacher — and the stimulus of competition, the 
 desire of distinction and the love of praise (very 
 questionable motives, however), are lost. But 
 these and every other defect of a private education 
 may be remedied, while advantages of the utmost 
 importance in the formation of character are 
 secured. Regular habits may be established — 
 interruptions of every kind prevented by a firm 
 resistance of them — motives in unison with the 
 Scriptures will be found more than adequate to 
 every occasion — the devotional exercises of the 
 closet may be watched — hourly opportunities will 
 be afforded for breaking off the shoots of evil as 
 they spring up, an example of principle embodied 
 in action may be presented to youthful observa- 
 
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 
 
 15 
 
 tion, and affections of the best kind be cultivated 
 between the members of the family — much useful 
 general knowledge may be imparted, and a fair 
 share of the learning of public schools be acquired. 
 Numbers can only be restrained by force or fear, 
 or excited by pride and interest. Choice, affec- 
 tion, principle can seldom be employed. The 
 discipline of a great school must be that of a man 
 of war, and it is conducted in either case under 
 much the same necessity. Two or three boys 
 may be watched every hour — evil checked as it 
 arises — every occurrence improved — religion in- 
 fused into every pursuit and instruction, without 
 any necessity for recurring to stimuli which befit 
 only the lowest condition of mortal existence, and 
 are never found, in their application, to produce 
 any other effect than to depress or exasperate 
 generous natures. 
 
 There is an error which universally obtains in 
 every plan of education, public or private, and 
 which is perhaps a principal cause of the distaste 
 of our young persons for grave and solid studies. 
 They are never taught to think. Materials in 
 abundance are set before them, but they know 
 nothing of the use and end designed by working 
 them ; they are ignorant of the rationale of gram- 
 mar, or the application of science. The memory 
 is burdened as a drudge, while the understanding 
 
10 PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 
 
 remains torpid and unexercised ; and thus the 
 interest which real knowledge inspires is lost 
 in the mere acquisition of words. A boy can 
 give a rule but not a reason. Pestalozzi has 
 attempted, with some success, to improve former 
 methods of imparting knowledge, but even his 
 system falls short of rational instruction, where 
 the understanding and the heart should keep 
 pace with the progress of the memory. The 
 practice of enforcing by authority, instead of 
 leading the mind to investigate, explain, and 
 digest in the exercise of its own energies, dis- 
 poses a youth to affirm rather than prove, and 
 resting contented with a crude and superficial 
 acquaintance with all subjects, to shrink from 
 the labour of acquiring solid and accurate in- 
 formation. It would be a very salutary practice 
 to withhold from young persons the use and 
 enjoyment of every thing, however simple, whether 
 an effect of art or nature, till they had prepared 
 themselves to explain its history, origin, place, 
 and means of production. Thus no moment 
 would run to waste, and table talk, which now 
 consists of little more than barren details, would 
 become a vehicle of much interesting and useful 
 communication. 
 
 If science ought not to precede language, they 
 should walk together as friends from the com- 
 
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 
 
 17 
 
 mencement, and be associated throughout the 
 progress of education. 
 
 But leaving the reader to form his own opinion 
 on the comparative merits of public and private 
 education, I shall lay before him, in the next 
 chapter, the method resorted to by Mr. Richmond 
 in his family arrangements. 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 MR. RICHMONDS 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 And this our life, exempt from public haunt, 
 
 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, . 
 Sermons in stones, and good in everything. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 One great reason v/hy so few people in the world are truly 
 religious, and why among the truly religious so many are not 
 happy in their religion, is this, that early religious habits are too 
 commonly associated, not with cheerfulness, but with constraint 
 and gloom. — Jebh. 
 
 Mr. Richmond’s first object was to make home 
 the happiest place to his children ; to render 
 them independent of foreign alliances in their 
 pursuits and friendships ; and so to interest them 
 in domestic enjoyments, as to preclude the feel- 
 ing, too common in young people, of restlessness 
 and longing to leave their own fire-sides, and 
 wander abroad in search of* pleasure and em- 
 ployment. In this attempt to satisfy his family 
 and engage their compliance with his wishes, he 
 so completely succeeded, that every member of it 
 
PLAN OF EDUCATION. 
 
 19 
 
 left home with regret, even for an occasional visit, 
 and returned to Turvey with fond anticipation, — 
 as to the place of their treasures. 
 
 To his daughter F — he writes — 
 
 ‘‘We are going on quietly at home. 
 
 Little K — , by a sudden determination, is gone 
 into Norfolk. My love and respect for your dear, 
 most dear mother, has prevailed to gain my con- 
 sent ; otherwise I much prefer a mother’s and elder 
 sister’s roof, for female education, to any school. 
 But I leave this affair in God’s hands, and hope 
 he will overrule it for the best. I have long- 
 thought that though a good school is better than 
 a bad home, a good home is the best of schools. 
 Children are for the most part educated in tem- 
 per and habits of all kinds, not by governesses, 
 but by companions, and here all is contingency. 
 But so much of my own happiness consists in 
 making your dear mamma happy, that I wave 
 my objection to a temporary alienation from the 
 parental roof, and pray God it may not injure 
 K — ’s spiritual welfare. Some may think I am 
 too fond of seeing my children around me ; if it 
 be a weakness, I must plead guilty to it : from 
 their infancy I have looked forward, as far as 
 providential circumstances would permit, to find 
 comfort, support, and companionship in my chil- 
 dren. My middle, and if spared, my old age, 
 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 AMUSEMENTS FOR 
 
 may much require it ; and if my life be short, can 
 any wonder that I should like to see and know 
 much of them while I remain in this world. It 
 has ever been my heart’s desire and prayer to 
 give them a useful, happy, exemplary home ; 
 were I to fail here, life would indeed become a 
 blank to me. I would strive ‘‘ to roll the troublous 
 trial on God,” but I should deeply mourn in se- 
 cret. Sons must in due season go forth into, a 
 wanton and wicked world to seek their bread ; 
 but daughters, while unmarried, are better cal- 
 culated to become comforters and companions to 
 their parents, as they go down to the vale of 
 years 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 A happy home greatly depends on the recrea- 
 tions and amusements which are provided for 
 young people. It is no small difficulty to give a 
 useful direction to their play-hours : little more 
 has been contemplated in the gambols of youth 
 than the health and activity of their bodies, and 
 the refreshment of their spirits ; it is well when 
 these objects can be attained without the indul- 
 gence of sinful tempers ; but youthful sports have 
 often proved the nursery of pride, ambition, and 
 contention. In public schools these evils have 
 
LEISURE HOURS. 
 
 21 
 
 been encouraged, or at least deemed unavoidable. 
 The seed of revenge in manhood has been planted 
 in boyish violence, and the unheeded acts of op- 
 pression by the elder boys towards their juniors, 
 have trained them to tyranny in riper years. 
 Private education affords greater facilities for 
 checking these evils, but the want of the stimulus 
 supplied by numbers is apt to render the pastime 
 uninteresting and home distasteful. 
 
 Mr. R. was alive to these inconveniences, and 
 endeavoured by a succession and variety of re- 
 creations to employ the leisure hours to advan- 
 tage. He had recourse to what was beautiful in 
 nature or ingenious in art or science ; and when 
 abroad he collected materials to gratify curiosity. 
 He fitted up his museum, his auctarium, and his 
 library, with specimens of mineralogy, instruments 
 for experimental philosophy, and- interesting cu- 
 riosities from every part of the world : he had 
 his magic lantern to exhibit phantasmagoria, and 
 teach natural history ; to display picturesque 
 beauty, and scenes and objects far-famed in diffe- 
 rent countries : his various microscopes for ex- 
 amining the minutiae of plants and animals ; his 
 telescope for tracing planetary revolutions and 
 appearances ; his air-pump and other machines 
 for illustrating and explaining the principles 
 of pneumatics and electricity ; authors of every 
 
22 
 
 AMUSEMENTS FOR 
 
 country who treated on the improvements con- 
 nected with modern science ; — whatever, in short, 
 could store the mind with ideas, or interest and 
 improve the heart. When he travelled he kept 
 up a correspondence with his family, and nar- 
 rated to them the persons, places, and adventures 
 of his progress. On his return he enlivened 
 many a leisure hour by larger details of all that 
 he had observed to amuse and improve. 
 
 It was a sight truly gratifying to witness the 
 affectionate parent in the professor’s chair, with 
 a mind richly stored and a countenance beaming 
 with kindness, fixing the attention of his youthful 
 auditors on subjects abstruse in their character, 
 but rendered interesting and intelligible to the 
 happy group which surrounded him. 
 
 Music was another source of domestic amuse- 
 ment in which Mr. R. excelled, being both a 
 good composer and no mean performer. Many 
 of his children played on some instrument, and 
 occasionally joined their father in a ‘ concert of 
 sweet sounds.’ He wished to exclude what was 
 frivolous or trifling in this noble art, and delighted 
 in the grave full-toned harmony, as best calculated 
 to inspire corresponding emotions. 
 
 He encouraged the use of the pencil, and was 
 very anxious that his daughters should cultivate 
 their taste for drawing. 
 
LEISURE HOURS. 
 
 23 
 
 ‘‘ As I have journeyed along,” he writes to one 
 of his children, I have often wished I had the 
 pencil of a ready draughtsman, that I might bring 
 home a bundle of sketches of landscapes, to re- 
 vive recollections and render natural scenery per- 
 manent to the imagination. When I find that this 
 cannot be, I next wish that one or more of my 
 dear children might acquire a talent of this kind, 
 and be a sort of right hand to fulfil my wishes 
 in that way. Perhaps some day you will be that 
 right hand to me. Loving landscape scenery as 
 I do, my grand object is to see God in it ; to 
 trace him in every part of his works ; to acknow- 
 ledge his goodness in them, and to collect argu- 
 ments from them to endear the character of Christ, 
 ‘ by whom,’ the scripture says, " all things were 
 made, and without whom was not anything made 
 that was made.’ To this end I wish drawing to be 
 cultivated. I mourn over pride and vanity, and 
 if accomplishments are only acquired to gratify 
 these unholy affections, I should wish them 
 banished. Nay, mere innocent pleasure is not a 
 sufficient motive ; the glory of God must be the 
 end and aim of every attainment, or else it is a 
 waste of time, and an abuse of talent. Pencils, 
 paint, India ink, and India rubber, may be de- 
 voted to the honour of Him who bestows the 
 .power of combining their respective properties. 
 
24 
 
 AMUSEMENTS FOR 
 
 SO as to produce the similitudes of his works. I 
 am no less anxious about the cultivation of musical 
 talents ; there is, however, more danger of music 
 being abused than drawing : the inundation of fri- 
 volity, and the sometimes unsuspected associations 
 of a carnal and worldly nature, which mingle with 
 musical compositions of a modern and fashionable 
 cast, often distress and hurt me. The fascinations 
 of the ball-room, the corruptions of the theatre and 
 opera-house, too often creep into the quiet piano- 
 forte corner of young people. Even instrumental 
 music, with its appendages of waltzes, dances, 
 and love-sick airs, has often a tendency to famil - 
 iarize the young mind with subjects injurious to 
 its welfare. The sober dignity of genuine instru- 
 mental music, is nearly lost in the substitution 
 of modern trick and blandishment : but if instru- 
 mental music be thus abused, how much more so 
 vocal : here the art and science of music opens its 
 richest stores of opportunity for glorifying God 
 and edifying man ; here all the charms, and all 
 the contrivances of this sublime faculty, present 
 innumerable means of spiritualizing the heart, 
 gratifying the ear, exalting the understanding, and 
 improving the affections : but here, alas ! the 
 world, the flesh, and the devil have grasped the 
 powers of the musical art in too many instances, 
 and sacrificed them all to Dagon and Baal, to 
 
LEISURE HOURS. 
 
 25 
 
 vice and folly, to levity and wantonness, to 
 fascination and delusion. Love songs, drinking 
 songs, vice-provoking songs, and many other 
 sorts of songs, resound from house to house in 
 public and private, and prove to demonstration 
 the idols which men and even women serve, 
 and consequently whose they are.” What a 
 profanation of a holy art ! what a degradation 
 of a noble science ! I am persuaded that music 
 is designed to prepare for heaven, to educate for 
 the choral enjoyment of Paradise, to form the 
 mind to virtue and devotion, and to charm away 
 evil, and sanctify the heart to God. A Chris- 
 tian musician is one who has a harp in his affec- 
 tions, which he daily tunes to the notes of the 
 angelic host, and with which he makes melody 
 in his heart to the Lord. Does he strike the 
 chord with his hands ? it is to bid lute and 
 harp to awake to the glory of God.” The hand, 
 the tongue, and the ear form a kind of triple 
 chord not to be broken. Bring music, my beloved 
 
 F , to this test, and your vocal hours will 
 
 not be spent in vain. The instructions of your 
 childhood will supply you through life with a 
 fountain of pleasures, drawn from the true source 
 of legitimate recreation. Sing the songs of Zion, 
 and amidst the vibrations of the air may true 
 prayer and praise ascend to heaven, and enter 
 
26 
 
 AMUSEMENTS FOR 
 
 into the ears of the Lord God of your salva- 
 tion ; and then will the harmonious combina- 
 tion be complete. Pray for grace to guide you 
 in all your duties, that you may comfort, assist, 
 and strengthen your invaluable mother in all her 
 cares and labours, by your dutiful, diligent, and 
 affectionate regard to her precepts, example, and 
 wishes. May your brothers in particular learn from 
 you, and you from Christ, what Christian meek- 
 ness, activity, and sobriety mean. Watch over 
 them with a sister’s heart and a sister’s prayers, 
 and they will be heard and answered. Go to 
 school again and again. Whither ? To what 
 school, papa? To the school of Christ, where 
 the Great Instructor waits to teach and bless you. 
 Go thither, my child, and carry your sins and your 
 cares, and your weaknesses and your errors, and 
 your affections and your hopes, and your fears 
 and your resolutions, and your friends, and your 
 brothers, and your sisters, and your mother, and 
 Your own true loving father, 
 
 Legh Pichmond.” 
 
 It was a maxim with Mr. Richmond, that 
 the mind needed not idleness or frivolity to re- 
 store its activities, or fit it for graver studies ; but 
 might always find a sufficient relaxation in variety : 
 and his success in associating some useful pur- 
 
LEISURE HOURS. 
 
 27 
 
 suit with the recreations of his young people, 
 proves the correctness of his judgment in this 
 respect. 
 
 The principal characteristic, however, of his 
 mode of education, was the piety infused into 
 every employment or pleasure. Whether in the 
 field or in the museum, — whether he examined 
 what was beautiful to the eye, or indulged in 
 what was harmonious to the ear, — whether he 
 made an experiment or related an event, — every 
 thing was connected in his own mind and in that 
 of his children, with Him who giveth all things 
 richly to enjoy ; — every thing afforded him an 
 illustration of some religious truth, or was em- 
 ployed to inspire some devout affection. The con- 
 nexion of religion with science was a favourite 
 topic, on which he used to enlarge with great 
 satisfaction. His happy manner, in combining 
 instruction with amusement, appears from the 
 two following specimens. The first of these is a 
 meditation on the wonders of the kaleidescope, 
 and which he presented to his daughter F — , 
 with a view to engage her attention to this simple 
 and elegant instrument. See, my dear F — , 
 what this new discovery, which has afforded us 
 so much amusement, may do to improve our 
 heads and hearts. 
 
 I took up my kaleidescope, and as I viewed 
 
28 
 
 THE KALEIDESCOPE. 
 
 with delight the extraordinary succession of beau- 
 tiful images which it presented to my sight, I 
 was struck, 
 
 1. With the singular phenomenon of perfect 
 order being invariably, and constantly produced 
 out of perfect disorder, — so that, as by magical 
 influence, confusion and irregularity seemed to be- 
 come the prolific parents of symmetry and beauty. 
 
 2. It occurred to me, that the universality of 
 its adoption would imperceptibly lead to the 
 cultivation of the principles of taste, elegance, 
 and beauty through the whole of the present and 
 following generations ; and that from the philoso- 
 pher and artist down to the poorest child in the 
 community. 
 
 3. I admired the effects produced by new and 
 varied combinations of colours as well as forms. 
 The analysis of this kind of arrangement is here 
 attended with unprecedented facility and advan- 
 tage. The artist, the philosopher, the admirer 
 both of the works of nature and of art may find a 
 source of amusement almost peculiar to the use 
 of this instrument. 
 
 4. I saw a vast accession to the sources of 
 invention in its application to the elegant arts and 
 manufactures, and the consequent growth of a 
 more polished and highly cultivated state of 
 habits, manners, and refinement in both. 
 
THE KALEIDESCOPE. 
 
 29 
 
 5. I mused with delight on the powers and 
 effects of geometrical arrangement and combina- 
 tion, so easily exhibited to the eye, and so cha- 
 racteristic of the optical principle on which the 
 instrument is constructed. 
 
 6. I was struck with the idea of infinite variety, 
 — more strikingly demonstrated to the eye than 
 by any former experiment. Here the sublime 
 mingles with the beautiful. 
 
 7. I perceived a kind of visible music. The 
 combination of form and colour produced harmony, 
 their succession melody; thus what an organ or 
 piano-forte is to the ear, the kaleidescope is to the 
 eye. I was delighted with this analogy between 
 the senses, as exercised in this interesting 
 experiment. 
 
 9. I thought that God was very good to afford 
 and permit so innocent and gratifying a source of 
 recreation to all ranks of my fellow-countrymen, 
 arising partly from the exhibition of so much 
 loveliness to that sense of sight which he has 
 formed, and partly from the exercise of the 
 mental faculties of reason and taste in meditating 
 upon the beautiful vision. 
 
 I laid my kaleidescope down, and thought of 
 the adorable attributes of Him from whom all 
 blessings, earthly and heavenly, flow. 
 
 I took up my kaleidescope again, and was led 
 
30 
 
 THE KALEIDESCOPE. 
 
 in the contemplation of its use and beauties, to 
 think, 
 
 1. Here I seem to see, on the one hand, the 
 ruin and disorder of human nature, and on the 
 other, the marvellous influence of grace in pro- 
 ducing out of these materials, order, beauty, and 
 restoration. 
 
 2. My instrument I compared to a telescope 
 glass, which faith and hope put into my hand ; — 
 I saw through one end of the tube, the world 
 and our life in it, a scene of confusion and tribula- 
 tion, strange revolutions and mysterious com- 
 plexities. Through the other, I beheld promised 
 delights, heavenly realities, beauty for ashes, and 
 the wilderness blooming like a rose. I took the 
 hint, and saw reasons for resignation, content- 
 ment, and patient waiting for the glory that shall 
 be revealed. 
 
 3. I observed, as I gently turned my instru- 
 ment round, how quickly the pleasures of sense 
 vanished. The phantom which delighted me but 
 a moment before was gone — for ever gone — 
 irrecoverably lost! Let me not then, said I, 
 set my heart on that which so quickly taketh 
 wing and fleeth away. Such is the world and its 
 delights. 
 
 4. But again as I looked, new beauties con- 
 stantly succeeded those which had passed away. 
 
THE KALEIDESCOPE. 
 
 31 
 
 Now I thought, how does the Lord multiply his 
 mercies in constant variety and succession. In 
 the succession of beautiful configurations in my 
 glass, is an emblem of the endless goodness of my 
 God, whose tender mercies are over all his works. 
 
 5. In this chaos of confusion, thus made to 
 produce beauty and order, I seem to see a repre- 
 sentation of the primitive work of the Great 
 Creator, who, when the earth was without form 
 and void, sent forth his Spirit, and therewith 
 created an universe in all its original perfection. 
 
 6. When I look at my little fragments of glass 
 and stones, and observe how, from such appa- 
 rently despicable materials, such beauty and 
 symmetry arise, I learn not to despise the day 
 of small things, and to count nothing unworthy 
 of my notice. I learn how God has chosen the 
 foolish things of this world to confound the wise, 
 and base things of this world, and things which 
 are despised hath God chosen; yea, things which 
 are not, to bring to nought things that are, that 
 no flesh should glory in his presence. 
 
 I concluded by reflecting, how the works of 
 creation, the principles of natural philosophy, the 
 discoveries of science, and the ingenuities of art, 
 illustrate and demonstrate the attributes of the 
 God of redemption. My kaleidoscope shews me, 
 in the harmony of its colours, the union of his 
 
32 
 
 THE KALEIDESCOPE. 
 
 excellencies ; in the symmetry of its forms, his 
 wisdom ; in the invariable efficacy of its principles, 
 his faithfulness ; in the endless diversity of its 
 figures, his infinity ; in the simplicity of its 
 essential character, his unity ; in its faculty 
 of producing novelty, his power ; in its ability 
 to delight, his goodness ; and in its affording 
 me this opportunity of so seeing him in it, his 
 love. 
 
 I laid down my kaleidoscope, that I might 
 praise and pray to the Author of my mercies.” 
 
 The next article was composed by Mr. R. to 
 fix the solar system in the memory, for which 
 purpose he turned it into verse, and as it may. be 
 a useful technica memoria to other children, it is 
 here presented to them. 
 
 In this instance, also, it may be observed, how 
 steadily he kept in view his ulterior design, of 
 raising the mind from the visible heavens to the 
 knowledge and love of him whom the heaven 
 of heavens cannot contain, but whose eternal 
 power and godhead, whose majesty, wisdom, and 
 goodness, shine forth in the things that are made. 
 
 He used frequently to repeat, The undevout 
 astronomer is mad.” He would observe, “ Astro- 
 nomy fills the mind with the most elevated con- 
 ceptions of the magnificence of the Deity, and 
 
 y 
 
THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 
 
 33 
 
 sinks us down and humbles us to the dust, with 
 a sense of our own utter insignificance, sensations 
 mingled with others of a sweet and tender cha- 
 racter in the survey of his benevolence. 
 
 “ Creation was Adam’s library ; God bid him 
 read the interesting volumes of his works, which 
 were designed to make known the Divine cha- 
 racter. To gratify curiosity, only, in the study 
 of the creatures, is to lose sight of their end in 
 relation to man. I would have my dear children 
 see God in every thing. It is not merely 
 a transitory emotion I wish to raise in their 
 minds, but a habit of referring, in all they see 
 to their maker with delight and reverence. I 
 will never consent to shut God out of his own 
 universe, or divorce science and religion, which 
 he has joined together to dwell with each other 
 in unity and love.” ^ 
 
 ^ In these remarks I perfectly concur. What indeed is religion 
 but a knowledge of God, with an enjoyment of him in the affec- 
 tions of the heart? The Greeks use a term {ev^e^eia) to describe 
 it, which signifies a becoming reverence. The Latins employ 
 another word ( religio, a re et ligo still more descriptive of its 
 character, which means a reuniting of a part to its whole. Man 
 has been torn, as it were, from God by his apostacy, — a creature 
 separated from the Creator. The business of religion, and of all 
 religious education, is to bring man back to God, in his thoughts, 
 affections, aims, and pursuits ; so that spiritually, as well as 
 naturally, he may live and move, and have his being in God. 
 Science, when employed as the handmaid of religion, will be 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 
 
 THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 
 
 As we looked at the skies, my dear children, last night. 
 And their beauties and wonders attracted our sight ; 
 
 Of explaining their nature you set me the task, 
 
 So I'll try to afford the instruction you ask. 
 
 THE SUN. 
 
 In the midst of our system the sun takes his place. 
 
 And brilliantly shines through the regions of space; 
 
 He illumines the planets, and by his attraction 
 Preserves all their motions in regular action. 
 
 He turns round his axis in twenty-five days. 
 
 While his light ne'er decreases, his heat ne'er decays : 
 His diameter viewed with the nicest attention. 
 
 Proves near nine hundred thousand miles in dimension ; 
 Around this vast orb revolutions are seen. 
 
 Of the planets eleven, with their moons, just eighteen. 
 
 MERCURY. 
 
 First Mercury moves mid the bright solar rays. 
 Completing his orbit in eighty-eight days ; 
 
 The breadth of his disc, at three thousand is given. 
 
 The distance of millions of miles, thirty-seven. 
 
 VENUS. 
 
 Next Venus advances, with radiant smiles. 
 
 From the sun distant sixty-nine millions of miles ; 
 
 found a most useful auxiliary ; and literature of every kind, 
 especially such as is connected with the works or ways of the 
 Deity, if pursued in the spirit of piety, has a tendency to im- 
 prove and sanctify the heart. With this view, Mr. Richmond 
 encouraged his children to study diliyently, that they might love 
 and serve God fervently. 
 
THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 
 
 35 
 
 She revolves round her centre in months about eight, 
 And compared with our earth she in size is as great: 
 In beauty resplendent she shines from afar, 
 
 And gladdens the eye as a morn or eve star. 
 
 THE EARTH. 
 
 Amidst this grand range of celestial pavilions, 
 
 Next comes, at a distance of ninety-five millions, 
 
 The globe of the earth, with its faithful attendant, 
 Both alike on the sun’s gravitation dependent. 
 
 Earth revolves, as enlightened by Sol’s mighty blaze. 
 In three hundred and sixty and five of our days ; 
 Round her axis impelled by omnipotent power, 
 
 She turns and returns by the twenty-fourth hour. 
 Near eight thousand miles is the breadth of her span. 
 And thus she was form’d for the dwelling of man : 
 
 As the sun rules by day, so the moon rules by night. 
 Each affording in turn their magnificent light. 
 
 THE MOON. 
 
 The moon’s time in her path as the earth she moves round, 
 Just twenty-nine days and a half will be found; 
 
 From the earth she is distant, although she seems near. 
 Twenty-four times ten thousand of miles it is clear. 
 
 By the light of the sun her fair face is adorned. 
 
 While she sometimes is gibbous and sometimes is horn’d. 
 When at full she ’s quite round, when new she’s not seen. 
 But whenever she shines, is of night the gay queen. 
 
 Of high hills and deep vales she has plentiful store, 
 
 And her breadth of our miles is two thousand and more. 
 By his glass, the astronomer clearly discerns 
 In a month round her axis she statedly turns; 
 
 Thus the earth and her moon are impelled by a force. 
 Which preserves all their motions in annual course. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 
 
 THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 
 
 MARS. 
 
 Next, revolving amidst this bright region of stars, 
 
 We behold in his orbit the ruddy-faced Mars, 
 
 He appears to move on without lunar assistance, 
 
 At a hundred and forty-four millions of distance. 
 While twenty-four hours, like our own, make his day. 
 Near two years will accomplish his annual way: 
 
 His diameter measures four thousand and two. 
 
 And his radiance is marked by its roseate hue. 
 
 THE ASTEROIDS. 
 
 Four planets come next of diminutive size, 
 
 Too small, without aid, to be seen with our eyes : 
 
 But the telescope proves of what nature they are. 
 
 And discovers their motions as viewed from afar. 
 
 In order comes Vesta, then Juno, then Ceres, 
 
 Whose order to Pallas exceedingly near is ; 
 
 But these Asteroids no more shall absorb. 
 
 The attention now due unto Jupiter^s orb. 
 
 JUPITER. 
 
 Enlightened by Sol with refulgence he smiles. 
 
 Though distant near five hundred millions of miles : 
 His splendour the Heavens is ever adorning 
 As the jewel of eve, as the herald of morning. 
 
 His diameter ninety-one thousand is found, 
 
 He in less than ten hours his own axis turns round : 
 His magnificent globe, as it plainly appears. 
 
 Revolves round the Sun in near twelve of our years ; 
 Cloudy belts cross his surface in parallel lines. 
 
 Yet through them the planet with brilliancy shines. 
 His constant companions, to cheer the dark night. 
 Four Satellites lend him their regular light: 
 
 That they truly revolve, by our glasses is seen. 
 
 In their periods or months from two days to sixteen. 
 
THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 
 
 37 
 
 SATURN. 
 
 Now far beyond Jupiter on we advance 
 And find a whole system of worlds at a glance. 
 
 Seven Moons around Saturn transcendantly shine, 
 Preserved in their orbit by impulse divine. 
 
 Nine hundred of millions from Sol he’s removed, 
 
 So their nightly assistance is constantly proved. 
 
 When measured, the breadth of this planet is great. 
 
 In thousands of miles it is seventy-eight : 
 
 Twenty-nine and a half of our years must be run 
 Ere Saturn his journey performs round the Sun ; 
 
 In fourteen to twelve hours the Astronomers say. 
 
 This planet’s rotation completes his own day : 
 
 But that which most singular makes him appear 
 Is two luminous rings which encompass his sphere ; 
 
 It would seem that this splendour of radiance bound him. 
 As detached from his orb they revolve both around him. 
 Heaven does not present a more beautiful sight 
 Than this planet — his rings and his moon seen at night. 
 
 URANUS — HERSCHELL — GEORGIUM-SIDUS. 
 
 But, as further we penetrate heavenly regions, 
 
 When the stars are abounding in multiplied legions. 
 
 We meet with a planet of magnitude vast. 
 
 Which of those yet discovered is reckoned the last. 
 
 Call it Uranus, Herschell, or Georgium-sidus, 
 
 A sight of his disc without help is denied us. 
 
 But when brought by the aid of the telescope near 
 His surface is manifest, beauteous, and clear. 
 
 Eighteen hundred millions removed from the Sun, 
 
 It is eighty four years ere his orbit is run. 
 
 Thirty-four thousand miles in his breadth ^tis maintained. 
 Of his motions diurnal no knowledge is gained. 
 
 Six bright beaming moons shed their rays o’er his night. 
 Like himself, from the Sun, all deriving their light. 
 
38 
 
 THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 
 
 THE COMETS. 
 
 But still we pursue Astronomical song, 
 
 As not planets alone to our system belong. 
 
 Many hundreds of Comets, in orbits most strange, 
 
 By solar attraction obediently range, 
 
 With their fringes of hair, their long fiery tails. 
 
 Whenever they ^re seen admiration prevails : 
 
 But their lengthened elliptical paths in the sky 
 The powers of Astronomy seem to defy. 
 
 So short is their stay, they escape observation 
 On which we can ground a correct calculation. 
 
 They’ve so come and so gone, so appear’d and so vanished. 
 That successful prediction they’ve hitherto banished. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 To the system named Solar, I call your attention. 
 
 Of the stars which are fixed I shall now wave the mention. 
 But while their instruction I have sought to impart, 
 
 I have wished to inspire the best thoughts in your heart. 
 
 With deep veneration, O lift up your eyes 
 
 And contemplate these works of the God of the skies : 
 
 He formed them, he governs, he guides every motion, 
 
 And by them he summons each soul to devotion. 
 
 The firmament sheweth the work of his hand, 
 
 Such wisdom and power adoration command. 
 
 Each planet revolves, and each Comet appears. 
 
 To exalt the great God of our days and our years. 
 
 Not a star but its lustre shall loudly proclaim 
 The magnificent praise of his excellent name. 
 
 Join the chorus above, and let glory be given 
 To him that directs both on earth and in heaven. 
 
THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 
 
 39 
 
 Many advantages were obtained by the intro- 
 duction of popular science into my friend’s family 
 circle as an amusement ; a dislike of low and 
 vulgar pursuits was inspired, an occupation found 
 for every moment, and materials procured for 
 useful conversation in their private intercourse: 
 full employment and improving pursuits are fa- 
 vourable to morality and religion ; nor is it neces- 
 sary to allow children, erven in their pastimes, to 
 be more childish than a childish age requires. 
 The notion is injurious to them, that a waste 
 of time is felicity, and its profitable employment 
 an ungrateful necessity. Nor can eminence be 
 expected in anything in which the heart is not 
 engaged. It should therefore be the constant 
 effort of a teacher to interest while he instructs, 
 and to bring the hour of recreation into unison with 
 that of the school room, making it subservient to 
 it. It was my friend’s anxious desire and sedulous 
 endeavour to get the heart on the side of truth, 
 to infuse an innocent prepossession in its favour, 
 and make duty enjoyment. It was often said by 
 the members of his family, “ We love religion, 
 because we see papa so lovely and happy under 
 its influence ! ” 
 
40 
 
 USUAL AMUSEMENTS 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ‘ A man's nature runs either to herbs or weeds, therefore let 
 him seasonably water the one and destroy the other.' — Bacon. 
 
 With so many resources of innocent and im- 
 proving amusement, Mr. R.’s young people felt no 
 regret at the interdict which their father placed 
 on all games of chance, on fishing, field sports, 
 dancing, the theatre, oratorios, and other sources 
 of gratification, which he thought to be inconsis- 
 tent with the spirit of religion, connected with 
 much evil, and a preparation for it. I have heard 
 him say, “ Even where there is no positive evil, 
 I think it important to draw a strong line of de- 
 marcation between the church and the world. 
 The mixed multitude set the Israelites a lusting 
 after the flesh-pots of Egypt ; and evil commu- 
 nications never fail to corrupt good manners. 
 There may be no sin in dancing, but it is a pre- 
 paration for appearing hereafter where I think 
 there is scarcely anything else. Cards are a 
 
OF YOUNG PEOPLE EXCLUDED. 
 
 41 
 
 waste of time which may be much better em- 
 ployed ; and they are too nearly allied to the 
 gaming-table, which fills me with horror. To 
 field sports I have a still more decided objection : 
 they are defended on the ground of promoting 
 health; but whatever benefit the body may re- 
 ceive, it is at the expence of the soul. I know 
 not on what principles a man can justify the 
 taking away life for his amusement : God allows 
 him to kill animals for food, or to destroy them 
 when they prove an annoyance to him ; but I 
 can find no authority in the Bible for deriving 
 enjoyment in the infliction of a cruel death ; — 
 it is right founded on might, — a mere act of ty- 
 ranny, and an abuse of power. The man who 
 should whip a beast to death, or cut him up 
 alive, like an Abyssinian savage, would be deemed 
 a monster ; yet the same man may hunt to death, 
 and halloo, and exult with satisfaction, while his 
 dogs are tearing to pieces a defenceless animal, 
 and yet be considered a gentleman and a Chris- 
 tian. Then there are the after-events of the 
 day; — and surely to spend five or six hours in the 
 evening commending the bark of a cur, or de- 
 scanting on the movements of a fox to elude his 
 pursuers, is unworthy an intelligent being, even 
 if there were no worse accompaniments.” 
 
 I asked him if he thought shooting equally 
 
42 
 
 USUAL AMUSEMENTS 
 
 objectionable. He replied : — ‘‘ Shooting may not 
 issue in all the results of hunting; but I should 
 be miserable all the while my boys were scam- 
 pering over the fields with a gun. Sad accidents 
 are continually occurring from letting young peo- 
 ple carry fire-arms : but my great objection to 
 all these sports is the same ; I cannot think it 
 right to seek gratification in inflicting suflering 
 and death. I know that God has given us the 
 creatures for our sustenance, and it is lawful to 
 use them to this end ; but with my views and 
 principles, I find it hard to conceive a right-minded 
 man feeling pleasure while he inflicts pain. He 
 would rather be disposed to say with an old 
 writer, I can never eat my dinner when I re- 
 member that I am living by the death of a crea- 
 ture which my sin has destroyed.” As for exercise, 
 we might surely find other pursuits for this pur- 
 pose. There appears to me the same delusion 
 in the argument which has sometimes been em- 
 ployed to defend shooting, as in that which is 
 urged by card-players, — we must have a stake, 
 however small, or we shall lose all interest in the 
 game. Surely we might walk as far and as long 
 as we pleased for exercise, without a gun. Pas- 
 cal explains the whole matter, when he says, 
 A man is not running after the game, but trying 
 to run away from himself.” The race-ground 
 
OF YOUNG PEOPLE EXCLUDED. 
 
 43 
 
 presents such a scene of folly and knavery that 
 it does not deserve a serious argument. The stage 
 abounds with every thing which is offensive to the 
 mind of a Christian. What think you of a cele- 
 brated tragedian, who forbade her daughter to con- 
 nect herself with the theatre, — surely this speaks 
 volumes. Did it never strike you that an actor 
 (vTTOKpiiri^') has given a name to the worst of vices. 
 
 Fishing is generally deemed a harmless amuse- 
 ment, but I cannot allow it to be a fit recreation 
 for a Christian. What are we to think of im- 
 paling a worm, and being highly delighted while 
 the poor creature suffers exquisite torture for our 
 sport. If we use an artificial bait, yet is time, 
 the precious hours of life, so valueless that we 
 can afford to throw away half or a whole day 
 in this trifling?” 
 
 ‘‘ What is your opinion of oratorios ? ” My 
 fondness,” he replied, for music may be sup- 
 posed to make me a partial judge in this 
 case. I see no objection to a concert when 
 the music is properly selected, yet I am jealous 
 of this sort of amusement, and should think it 
 necessary to be very cautious in encouraging • a 
 taste for public exhibition of any kind. We never 
 attend oratorios in a church. I consider it a 
 desecration of the house of God to use it for 
 any purpose but that of religion : it shocks me 
 
44 
 
 USUAL AMUSEMENTS 
 
 to hear clappings and noisy expressions of plea- 
 sure when a passage of scripture and the name 
 of God is made a vehicle for mere amusement. 
 It is absurd to talk of devotional feelings on such 
 occasions. As to all these things, I think that 
 God has given us immortal souls to prepare for 
 heaven. People may cry, What great harm in 
 this or in that? They may have a plausible 
 pretext for doing what I condemn ; for there is 
 nothing, however absurd or wicked, which will 
 want an advocate or an argument to support it. 
 I lay down this. general rule for all occupations. 
 Whatever has a tendency to fit my children for 
 heaven I approve, but I must keep aloof from 
 every thing which is likely to be a snare or a 
 temptation to them, and indispose their minds to 
 a serious and steady pursuit of their great object. 
 
 Did you ever hear of a bishop on the race- 
 ground or in a theatre? Would he not disgrace 
 himself even in the eyes of the world by being 
 present at such places ? Why so ? Because he 
 would be out of character. The universal suffrage 
 denounces these amusements as inconsistent with 
 a heavenly mind, and the sacred office of a spi- 
 ritual guide. Surely this is the strongest censure 
 on the amusements themselves ; it is in fact say- 
 ing, the more heavenly the man the more un- 
 suitable are such things to his character. 
 
OF YOUNG PEOPLE EXCLUDED. 
 
 45 
 
 “ I have often thought that a Christian by pro- 
 fession, who allowed himself in the indulgence 
 of such things as have furnished the subject of 
 our conversation, must be at a loss how to de- 
 scribe the pomps and vanities of this wicked 
 world, which he has renounced at his baptism.” 
 
 These remarks may excite a smile, as childish 
 scrupulosities, or a sneer, as mere fanaticism; 
 but hard, names are bad substitutes for solid 
 arguments. It will not be easy to satisfy a sober 
 reflecting mind, that- Mr. Richmond’s judgment 
 was weak. or superstitious. 
 
 Before we leave the subject of amusement, I 
 shall advert to another kind of recreation, which 
 Mr. R. provided for his young people ; — the cele- 
 bration of birth-days. On his own birth-day he 
 attended divine service, when he preached a ser- 
 mon to his ‘congregation, and endeavoured to 
 improve the lapse of time. by acts of prayer and 
 praise. The ’ summons • was cheerfully obeyed, 
 and the parish bells rung merrily. Great num- 
 bers attended church to worship God and con- 
 gratulate -their pastor on the occasion. In the 
 course of the day he always wrote to his mother, 
 while she was alive, and affectionately reminded 
 her and himself of their endeared connection. 
 ’ On- the day following, he invited a party of his 
 
4G KEEPING OF BIRTH-DAYS, WITH 
 
 parishioners to dine at the rectory. This birth- 
 day entertainment was looked forward to by 
 them with great interest, and was made an oc- 
 casion of courteous hospitality. The company 
 was of a mixed character, and was received by 
 Mr. R. with a kindness and attention to their 
 innocent recreation, which never failed to gratify 
 his guests. The evening was spent in music, 
 and his family formed a little band of performers 
 in full concert. The birth-days of his children 
 were kept with no less reverence to religion, 
 though in a more private manner. He com- 
 mended them to God for his blessing and favour. 
 He wrote each of them a letter of congratulation, 
 usually accompanied by a present of some useful 
 kind. The day was spent in innocent festivity, 
 and the evening was employed in the museum, 
 where he gave a lecture on experimental philo- 
 sophy. These seasons were anticipated by the 
 children with much delight, and their recurrence 
 contributed, in a great degree, to promote the 
 harmony of the family, by a reciprocity of affec- 
 tionate interest amongst its members. 
 
 • I shall here transcribe a letter or two, as 
 specimens of Mr. Richmond’s birth-day corres- 
 pondence. 
 
LETTERS ON THESE OCCASIONS. 
 
 47 
 
 To MY K 
 
 Let not my loved little K — suppose that her 
 father forgets her. Yaxham may seem a long 
 distance from Turvey ; Glasgow is a much greater, 
 but in neither place can my heart forget my 
 child. I remember you a little babe in arms. 
 I loved you then. I remember you lying in your 
 little cot, and I swung you there, and loved you 
 the while. 
 
 ‘‘ I recollect your first attempts to walk, and 
 your many consequent little downfalls. I raised 
 you up from your stumblings and your tum- 
 blings ; I dried your tears, and loved you still 
 more. I have not forgotten your endeavours to 
 talk, nor your droll little prattlings ; nor your 
 first calling me Papa, and dearly I loved you 
 for it : and although these things have long since 
 passed away, and time has added to your years, 
 my love for my K — is not diminished. I often see 
 you in imagination, and draw fanciful pictures of 
 your occupations in your new dwelling ; but what 
 is my love compared with that of your heavenly 
 Father. What is the strongest earthly affection, 
 when contrasted with that which said, Suffer 
 
 * The birth 'day was kept as usual though the child was absent; 
 but whether absent or present a letter of congratulation was 
 written on the occasion. 
 
48 
 
 KEEPING OF BIRTH-DAYS, WITH 
 
 little children to come unto me, and forbid them 
 not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” 
 Has my child’s heart an earnestness, a real 
 unfeigned earnestness, to share in the love of 
 such a Father, and to come when so mercifully 
 called to such a Saviour ? By nature “ foolish- 
 ness is bound up in the heart of a child ; ” never- 
 theless by grace a young child’s heart may be- 
 come the temple of the Holy Ghost, and . the 
 residence of God himself. Think of little Jane, 
 the Young Cottager. May you resemble her in 
 whatever she resembled Christ. She was a dear 
 little girl, and I wish there were thousands more 
 like her. Many have been made sensible of their 
 sinful state while reading that story, and, through 
 the blessing of God, have been brought to love 
 the same Redeemer, and lived and died rejoicing 
 in their Saviour. I hope, my child, you pray 
 not only with your lips, but with your heart. 
 While you are actively and dutifully employed 
 in acquiring useful knowledge, ‘‘ be fervent in 
 spirit, serving the Lord.” In a little time you 
 will be in your teens, and the very sound of that 
 word should awaken you not to the usual folly 
 and vanity of this period of life, but to the 
 responsibility of growing years and increasing 
 privileges ; to the cultivation of holy learning 
 and Christian habits ; to the love of Jesus and 
 
LETTERS ON THESE OCCASIONS. 
 
 49 
 
 communion with his Spirit. It is my prayer, 
 let it be yours. And now farewell, my dear K — . 
 May you realize every fond hope, temporal, 
 spiritual, and eternal, of 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 The following letter was written the year after, 
 and on a similar occasion : — 
 
 To MY K , ON HER BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 Accept a birth-day blessing from your affec- 
 tionate father, my dearest K — : — a father who 
 loves you with all his heart and soul. This day 
 thirteen years brought you into a world of sins, 
 sorrows, mercies, hopes, and fears : surely it is 
 a day much to be remembered ; not so much 
 by feastings and twelfth-cakes, as by prayers 
 and supplications to the God and’ Father of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, that he would grant you grace 
 to put away the follies of childhood, and to enter 
 upon what is commonly called your ‘ teens’ with 
 a clean heart and a right spirit. May my dear 
 child be a vessel of mercy, filled with all the 
 blessings of the spirit of God, and fitted for a 
 happy eternity. May the love of Jesus warm 
 your heart with every affection which can adorn 
 the 'Christian name and character. May your 
 
 i: 
 
50 KEEPING OF BIRTH-DAYS, WITH 
 
 early attainments at this period of a diligent 
 childhood prepare you to be the comfort and 
 prop of your parents in their advancing years, 
 if life be spared to them. Be conscientious in all 
 you do. Idleness and inattention to instruction 
 always prove that something is very wrong in 
 principle. Diligence in the improvement of your 
 mind is a tribute of obedience both to God and 
 your parents. I rejoice to hear from your kind 
 governess that you improve in this respect. I 
 trust, my dear child, we shall never receive any 
 intimation of your failure in so important a matter. 
 If you love those at home, (and I am persuaded 
 you do love them tenderly,) ever strive to make 
 them happy and easy on your account. I need 
 not tell you that every one round our fire-side 
 unites with me in the congratulations of this day. 
 
 There is but one heart amongst us. M and 
 
 H mention your birth-day in their letters. 
 
 Our Christian circle is reduced when three 
 daughters are absent, but love, memory, and 
 imagination often bring them all together, and half 
 fill the vacant chairs which they used to occupy. 
 Your brother Nugent has been mercifully preserved 
 from an awful shipwreck in India ; the vessel was 
 totally lost, but all the lives saved, and he has got 
 a station in another ship. — ‘‘ They that go down to 
 the sea in ships, — that do business in great 
 
LETTERS ON THESE OCCASIONS. 
 
 51 
 
 waters, — these see the works of the Lord, and 
 his wonders in the deep.” (Psalm cvii. 23 — 31 ;) 
 
 And now, my K , with a repetition of every 
 
 wish, prayer, and blessing, believe me 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 ‘‘To C (when a very little girl.; 
 
 “ Perhaps my dear little C , thought she 
 
 was too young to receive a letter ; but you see I 
 
 have not forgotten you, nor L either, for 
 
 whom you may tear off the other half of this 
 sheet, and if he cannot read it himself, some one 
 will read it to him. I wish very much to know 
 how you are- behaving since I saw you ; What 
 character will your pen and your needle give 
 of you when I ask them? and what will your 
 book say ? Your playthings, perhaps, will whisper 
 that you have been very fond of them : well, a 
 little fond of them you may be, but you must not 
 think only of them, my little nursery queen. 
 There are better things than playthings in the 
 world, — there are mammas, and mamma’s com- 
 mandments, and papas, and papa’s wishes, and 
 sisters, and sister’s instructions ; and there is the 
 Bible, and the God of the Bible, and Jesus Christ 
 and his salvation. My little girl must think of 
 these things, and be an example to her young 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 KEEPING OF BIRTH-DAYS, WITH 
 
 brothers, in order, obedience, and good manners, 
 &c. 
 
 You are now at that age when Jesus ‘‘ increased 
 in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and 
 man.” Meditate on this. I am glad to think you 
 are acquiring knowledge ; but ever keep in mind, 
 that all other knowledge is valuable or not, just 
 so far as it is united to spiritual knowledge. The 
 word of God and its blessings form the highest 
 study of man. May my children grow in such 
 knowledge. Farewell, my child, try in every 
 thing to please 
 
 Your dear Papa.” 
 
 P. S. I send a box of changeable ladies to 
 amuse you, but I do not wish you to become one 
 of the changeable ladies : — yet my heart prays 
 that you may prove a changed soul.” 
 
 - To C . 
 
 “ I cannot let a parcel go to Y with- 
 out telling my dear C how much her father 
 
 loves her. This is a day of grateful recollec- 
 tions, and hopeful anticipations. God bless my 
 child. May she grow in grace with increasing 
 years : may she be diligent in her studies, docile 
 in disposition, devotionally fervent in spirit, and 
 unwearied in well-doing ! 
 
 My anxieties have been great since I saw 
 
LETTERS ON THESE OCCASIONS. 
 
 53 
 
 you. My heart has so clung to my dear boy, 
 that every tender feeling and affection has been 
 exercised in the separation from my beloved 
 Wilberforce, but the loss has not diminished but 
 increased my love to the endeared children whom 
 God still spares to me. I cannot say one thou- 
 sandth part of what I would on this subject, but 
 my heart prays that you may all grow in the 
 knowledge of Him with whom his soul now lives 
 in blessedness. I hope much good has arisen to 
 your brothers and sisters at home from the sanc- 
 tified effect of this heavy trial. May my C — feel 
 it likewise, and so experience the power of real 
 religion in her heart, that it may appear in her 
 life and conversation. I am very anxious on this 
 subject. A great work of gracious awakening 
 has taken place in the village, in connection with 
 Wilberforce’s happy end. Many careless souls are 
 surprisingly changed. This is a mercy, — an un- 
 speakable mercy to me as their minister. ' Oh ! I 
 want all my children to share abundantly in these 
 dews of heavenly grace. I earnestly covet for 
 them these best gifts. Others will have told you 
 by this parcel how much they love you. This 
 letter can but very feebly say how dear you are 
 in the love of a Saviour. 
 
 From your affectionate father, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
54 
 
 KEEPING OF BIRTH-DAYS, WITH 
 
 My much loved boy, 
 
 “You expressed some disappointment at dinner, 
 because you had not received your dear mamma’s 
 promised letter on your birth-day. What has been 
 the cause of the failure I know not, but I will 
 try to compensate for the disappointment by 
 giving you a few lines. The return of a birth- 
 day, when rightly viewed, is a subject for very 
 serious meditation : I wish it may prove so to 
 you. We have seen, in the death of your dear 
 brother, how little health and strength are to be 
 trusted. Childhood, and youth, and time, are 
 swiftly passing onward, and our journey through 
 this vale of tears, whether longer or shorter, will 
 soon be over. Can you too early learn the value 
 and importance of time ? Will you not hear the 
 counsel of a father, and meditate on those things 
 which belong to your everlasting peace? You 
 have an immortal soul, to be lost or saved for ever. 
 You have an understanding, to distinguish between 
 good and evil. You are therefore a responsible being, 
 who must render an account of the deeds done in 
 the body, whether they be good or whether they be 
 evil. Childhood is the period when the character 
 and habits of the future man are formed. Trifle not 
 therefore with your childish days. Set a firm 
 and Valuable example to your younger brother : 
 
LETTERS ON THESE OCCASIONS. 
 
 55 
 
 he will more or less imitate your ways and dis- 
 positions, be they better or worse. Remember ! 
 the eye of God is upon you in every place. Be 
 where you will, do what you will, you may 
 always say with Hagar in the wilderness — ‘‘ Thou 
 God seest me.” I have of late known but little, 
 too little, of your state of mind and your views 
 of things, temporal and spiritual. I have had 
 occasional uneasiness on this subject. You ought 
 ever to be putting forth the energies of your 
 mind in every proper and possible way. It is 
 time that your attention should be drawn to your 
 future station in life, whatever providence may 
 design it to be. Every day and every hour should 
 bear witness to some progress and improvement 
 in useful learning, and above all, in that know- 
 ledge which maketh wise unto salvation. You 
 have on all subjects much to learn, and it will 
 not be acquired without much labour, and firm 
 determination of mind and talent to the acquire- 
 ment. What may be the inclination of your own 
 mind as to business, profession, or occupation, I 
 know not : but I wish you most seriously to take 
 this subject into deliberate consideration, and let me 
 in due time know the result, that I may give you 
 counsel and advice. In the mean time, a thirst for 
 useful knowledge, and a laborious attention to its 
 attainment, will best evidence your fitness for that 
 
56 
 
 KEEPING OF BIRTII-DAYS, WITH 
 
 state of life into which it may please God to call 
 you. But you can do nothing well without faith 
 and prayer, — without much anxious reading of the 
 Holy Scriptures. This reminds me of your dear 
 brother, Wilberforce. He left upon record amongst 
 you all, his testimony to the value and necessity 
 of reading the word of God ; and it is my heart’s 
 prayer and desire that all my loved children may 
 follow his example and his dying exhortations. 
 The season of the year is fast advancing which 
 brings all the affections and solemnities of his 
 latter end to view. Every day of the approach- 
 ing fortnight brings to remembrance the various 
 events of his last days. They are all indelibly 
 fastened on my heart’s memory ; they live, glow, 
 and burn there with a vividness of impression, of 
 which none can be aware, and form a daily part 
 of my very self. But I refer to them now for my 
 dear Legh’s sake. 1 have lost my two eldest 
 boys, and am deeply solicitous that those who 
 remain to me should be devoted to God ; and, 
 if spared, become the props and solace of my 
 advancing years. It is indeed time, my Legh, 
 that you should feel the importance of such con- 
 siderations. You were named Serle after one 
 of the most holy and excellent men with whom 
 I was ever acquainted. Mere Christian names 
 can confer no grace ; but I may be permitted to 
 
LETTERS ON THESE OCCASIONS. 
 
 57 
 
 wish, and hope, and pray, that you may, by divine 
 grace, resemble him, and follow him as he fol- 
 lowed Christ. ‘‘ The Christian Remembrancer,” 
 “ The Horse Solitarise,” The Christian Parent,” 
 and many other admirable books bear testimony 
 to his piety and talents : He being dead yet 
 
 speaketh.” And now, my child, may every bles- 
 sing attend you, for this world and the next, for 
 time and for eternity. May the return of this birth- 
 day remind you of many an important duty and 
 principle. Look into the real state of your heart, 
 and never be afraid or ashamed to‘ make me 
 acquainted with it. ‘‘ The end of all things is at 
 hand, be ye therefore sober and watch unto 
 prayer.” The heart that now loves and watches 
 over you on earth, may ere long, and must in 
 time, become cold in the grave : but seek him 
 who* never dieth, and his love which never de- 
 cayeth, and all shall be well with you here and 
 hereafter. So counsels and prays 
 
 Your affectionate Father, 
 
 LectH Richmond.” 
 
 1 have mentioned Mr. R.’s correspondence 
 with his mother on his own birth-day. After her 
 decease he wrote on this occasion the following- 
 letter to his eldest daughter, who was united to 
 an excellent and valuable minister in the esta- 
 blished church of Scotland. 
 
58 
 
 KEEPING OF BIRTH-DAYS, WITH 
 
 My very dear daughter, 
 
 Through many a returning year I wrote to 
 my dear and venerated mother on my birthday. 
 She is gone to her rest, and I can only commu- 
 nicate with her in grateful recollection and hopeful 
 anticipation. To whom can I now address myself 
 with more propriety and love, on such an occa- 
 sion, than to my absent, distant, but much-loved 
 child. — My child, so mercifully restored to health 
 after so severe an illness and so much danger, 
 my thoughts and prayers have been unceasing re- 
 specting you. I have endeavoured patiently to 
 wait upon the Lord, and he hath heard my 
 prayer. I have viewed this trying dispensation as 
 sent of God for some great and good purpose, to your 
 own and to all our souls ; and I trust we shall find 
 it so. You will have to learn to glorify God in the 
 fires, ^ and magnify the God of your salvation ; to 
 see the precarious tenure of human life, and to 
 devote your restored powers of mind and body 
 to him from whom you have received both. O my 
 dear M — what a God he is, and what a redemp- 
 tion he has wrought for sinners ! See in your own 
 recent trial an emblem of Christ’s love ; — yourself 
 a brand plucked from the burning, — saved, yet so 
 
 ’ Mrs. M. had been suffering’ from an accident by fire. 
 
LETTERS ON THESE OCCASIONS. 
 
 59 
 
 as by fire, — raised from weakness to strength, — 
 tempest-tost and afflicted, yet preserved, — cast 
 down, but not destroyed. It is the heart’s desire 
 and prayer to God of your father, on his birth- 
 day, that all these things may work together for 
 your good, temporal and spiritual. It is a day 
 which I always contemplate with much tender 
 affection, and my thoughts are such as I cannot 
 utter. Life, death, and eternity spread a vision 
 before me, and I meditate with solemnity and 
 deep humiliation. I have lived now more than 
 half a century. On the past I look with much 
 repentance for my sins, and much gratitude for 
 my mercies. Of the future I know nothing, 
 except that my times are in God’s hands, and 
 that is enough. But my responsibilities make 
 me often tremble. They rise like mountains 
 before me ; but I lift up my eyes to the hills from 
 whence cometh my help, and the mountains 
 of difficulty become plains, and the rough places 
 smooth. Amongst my mercies I feel peculiarly 
 thankful for the union of my dear child with such 
 a man and such a minister as Mr. M — . This 
 doubly endears Scotland to my heart. I have 
 formed many valuable friendships, and received 
 many kind favours from its inhabitants. I have 
 delighted in its scenery and tasted many excel- 
 lent fruits of its piety: but to have a daughter 
 
60 
 
 CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 placed in the midst of Scotia’s hills and plains 
 renders the land peculiarly interesting to me. 
 
 “ May every day add to your strength and com- 
 fort. May you and I, not only as parent and 
 child, but as fellow-pilgrims on the road to Zion, 
 walk lovingly, congenially, and safely to the end 
 of our journey. I hope, if God spare me, to see 
 you in the spring, but whether here or there, I 
 am ever 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. R. ” 
 
 From the amusement of leisure hours, and the 
 returns of the birth-day memorials, I pass on to 
 notice my friend’s care and extreme anxiety to 
 keep his young people from dangerous associates. 
 To choose suitable companions is not less difficult 
 to a Christian parent than to provide useful recrea- 
 tions for them. The peculiar talents of Mr. Rich- 
 mond enabled him to supply abundant materials for 
 the employment of leisure hours ; and his strong 
 affection for his children rendered that a pleasure, 
 which to many would have been an irksome duty. 
 He made himself not only a profitable but a suit- 
 able and interesting companion to them. They 
 felt no discontent at the strict exclusion of other 
 intimacies, to which there was but one exception, 
 in the son of a gentleman in his parish, who 
 
CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 61 
 
 studied under the same tutor, and who was ever 
 admitted with affectionate esteem and confidence 
 into his family party. Probably Mr. R.’s marked 
 anxiety on this point may be traced in part to 
 the unhappy career of his eldest son, on whom 
 he had witnessed the effect of bad influence in 
 a corrupt associate. So inflexibly did he adhere 
 to his rule, that he allowed no intercourse what- 
 ever with other families, except under his own 
 watchful eye and diligent superintendance. He 
 even declined invitations from personal relatives 
 whom he dearly loved, and with whom he him- 
 self kept up a friendly correspondence. It was 
 his fixed resolve to sacrifice all considerations of 
 interest, and even courtesy, although he might 
 thereby expose himself to censure and misappre- 
 hension, — rather than bring his children under an 
 influence which he feared might be injurious to 
 them. When some of them were nearly grown 
 up, he exercised the same vigilance, and regarded 
 with suspicion every circumstance from which he 
 apprehended possible injury. 
 
 He used to say — “ My dear friends and relations 
 are amiable and highly respectable. I have great 
 reason to be grateful for their kind intentions and 
 good offices ; — but I cannot tell what my children 
 may meet with in a style of life so different from 
 mine. One fatal hour may undo years of instruc- 
 
02 
 
 CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 tion, and give me endless perplexity. I have 
 suffered enough from sending a child from 
 home.” 
 
 His sentiments on this subject are expressed in 
 the following letter to Mrs. R. who had asked his 
 advice before she consented to allow one of his 
 daughters to accompany a lady of great respecta- 
 bility, and undoubted piety, into Devon, to spend 
 the winter there. It was not improper that Mrs. 
 R. should wish her children to see something of 
 the world, and be gradually accustomed to act for 
 themselves. The character of the protector and 
 companion was a sufficient guarantee against evil 
 contact. Our friend was at that time in Scotland, 
 from whence he replied to the application. 
 
 My dear love, 
 
 ‘‘ In common with my own parents I have 
 ever had strong, very strong objections to allow 
 my children to visit any where without one of their 
 parents ; and through life I have seen and la- 
 mented endless evils arising from the want of 
 superintendance, and the absence of those who 
 are most concerned in guarding against the mis- 
 chief of association with other families. As a 
 general rule, therefore, I have always objected to 
 it, from conscientious motives. Yet there may be 
 exceptions, and I readily admit that the case in 
 
CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 63 
 
 question may be one of them I wish to make 
 
 home the grand centre of attraction, affection, and 
 comfort. You know from this year’s experience 
 how ready I am to give our girls the advantage of 
 seeing life ; but I cannot think that the withdraw- 
 ing the parent’s eye would increase the advantages 
 of a journey. Never is that eye and ear so 
 necessary as at such an age. I would infinitely 
 rather undertake the responsibility attached to 
 possible and contingent evils which might occur 
 under the vigilant and tender superintendance 
 of parents, than those which might arise from the 
 connections and habits formed when that restraint 
 is withdrawn. I perfectly accord with you in 
 wishing our dear children to gain advantages from 
 associating with our various Christian friends, and 
 am acting daily on your own ideas. But I see 
 more and more, daily, how exceedingly desirable 
 my own presence is, and that continually. But 
 when the will of God is expressed in regard to 
 health, &c. and the path of duty is thereby clearly 
 pointed out to me, you must not suppose me to 
 be either indifferent or positive. At the same 
 time I see mountains of difficulty in deciding, 
 out of numerous requests, — which to accept, and 
 which to refuse. 
 
 I approve your plan for Wilberforce — I do not 
 oppose your wishes for Mary — I only pause-r— but 
 
G4 
 
 CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 I much admire your sentiments, and taking both 
 body and mind into consideration, hope it may be 
 the will of God. 
 
 “ Farewell, dear love. Cherish a comfortable 
 spirit, — do not mistrust God, — let not your soul be 
 disquieted within you,— look kindly on providences 
 and hopefully on events, and ever regard me as 
 
 Your faithful 
 
 . Legh.” 
 
 Some of Mr. R.’s best friends have disapproved 
 the severity of restraint which he judged it right 
 to impose on his children. They have blamed 
 him for interdicting the usual freedom of inter- 
 course with families whose conduct and principles 
 he approved. It is possible his feelings were 
 morbidly acute on occasions, and his extreme 
 anxiety for the spiritual welfare of his family 
 often proved injurious to himself, for he sometimes 
 passed a sleepless night in expectation of an ordi- 
 nary visit on the morrow. Such was his vigilance, 
 that if a friend introduced his son under circum- 
 stances of common courtesy, he appeared restless 
 and uneasy if the young people were left together 
 without superintendance for a few moments. Other 
 persons might also have taken advantage of an 
 extensive popularity to benefit their families, but 
 he never could be prevailed on to use a fair 
 
CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 65 
 
 opportunity of bringing them forward to notice, 
 to advance their temporal welfare. 
 
 I cannot endure,” he used to say, even to 
 seem to make my religious influence a stepping- 
 stone to promotion for me or mine.” 
 
 Whatever may be thought of my friend’s judg- 
 ment, it is impossible not to respect, admire, and 
 love the holy integrity, the perfect simplicity and 
 oneness of object in the man of God, and I cannot 
 doubt that his purity of motive has been recorded 
 in heaven, and will be owned on earth after 
 many days. Whatever worldly advantages, sup- 
 posed or real, may have been lost to his family 
 from the steady application of religious principle, 
 however pushed to an extreme, an abundant 
 compensation shall be made by that Being whose 
 blessing invariably attends a faithful adherence to 
 the dictates of conscience, and who hath promised. 
 
 Him that honoureth me, I will honour.” 
 
 My dear M 
 
 ‘‘We have had a very prosperous journey thus 
 far. I am passing a few comfortable days with 
 
 at this place. But, alas I this is a town in 
 
 which, speaking of our own church, religion is 
 little known. The inhabitants of all ranks 
 think of nothing but money, folly, vanity, and 
 dissipation : their evenings are spent in the 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 unprofitable anxieties of the card-table, the 
 ensnaring amusement of dancing, or the delusions 
 and temptations of the play-house, their mornings 
 in idle gossipings and waste of time. When I see 
 these things, I feel satisfied that I have kept my 
 dear children from such scenes, and such com- 
 panions. Oh ! how lamentable to contemplate a 
 great town full of inhabitants, gentry, clergy, 
 manufacturers, tradesmen, &c. living almost with- 
 out God in the world ; error preached from the 
 pulpits ; no care for the souls of the people ; no 
 family prayer in the houses ; no zeal for religion, 
 unless, perhaps, it be now and then excited to 
 abuse and ridicule all those who have any real 
 love for God and their souls. 
 
 ‘‘ May my dear child be preserved from the 
 defilements of a vain, dangerous, and destroying 
 world. You know not, and I wish you never 
 may know, its snares and corruptions. I was 
 greatly affected in conversing with a family at 
 
 , upon the marriage of their daughter, under 
 
 the following circumstances ; the father was an 
 exemplary clergyman, the mother a most pious 
 woman : they had brought up a family with strict 
 attention to religious precepts and principles, and 
 they were not without hope that their daughter 
 had some piety. 
 
 A young man of property, but of no decided 
 
CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 G7 
 
 religious principle, became acquainted with her. 
 Inattentive to the affectionate duties which she 
 owed to her excellent parents, their feelings, and 
 their advice, she suffered her mind to be led away 
 into an attachment towards the young man. The 
 parents were aware that his general habits and 
 views would be uncongenial to their wishes for a 
 daughter’s spiritual welfare, and therefore objected. 
 However, the daughter so far obtained her wishes, 
 that a very reluctant consent was given to the 
 marriage. The daughter, gradually led away 
 into worldly company and amusements, has given 
 up even the outward profession of religion, and 
 now lives as the world lives. Yet she is not 
 happy ; and her parents are very unhappy. The 
 daughter cannot help remembering the example, 
 the exhortations, the prayers, the solicitudes, 
 and the tears of her parents ; but it is only with 
 remorse, which she strives to drown in worldly 
 company and carnal amusements. They wept 
 over the case with me, which presents a proof of 
 the sad consequences of young people giving way 
 to hasty impressions, and yielding to connections 
 not founded on a regard to the honour of God, 
 gratitude to parents, and consistency with a re- 
 ligious profession. How needful is it that Christian 
 parents, and Christian children, should be firm 
 and conscientious in the important duty of encour- 
 
68 
 
 CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 aging connections for life only on Christian prin- 
 ciples ! what distress to families, and what decays 
 of hopeful character have resulted from a defi- 
 ciency on this point ! Let me warn my dear M 
 
 against that unbecoming levity, with which many 
 young people treat these subjects. Evil com- 
 munications corrupt good manners, very especially 
 in this matter. The love of Christ is the only safe 
 ground of all motives, and of all conduct. Where 
 this is established, all is well. The life-blood 
 of Christianity then circulates through every vein 
 of the soul ; and health, strength, and purity 
 of mind is the happy result. Fall down upon 
 your knees before God, my M — — , praying that 
 he would pour that love into your heart, till it 
 become a constraining principle for the govern- 
 ment of your thoughts and actions. This is the 
 only remedy for all the diseases of the soul. 
 
 Beware of pride and self-conceit ; of fretful 
 tempers and discontent. Learn to quell impa- 
 tience and obstinacy. Let your first, your very first 
 delight be in serving God by serving your parents. 
 Reckon not on youth, or long life. Devote your- 
 self to active usefulness in the family, and in the 
 parish. Shew forth the principles in which you 
 have been educated, by a practical exhibition of 
 them in your conduct. But who is sufficient unto 
 these things ? Christ. Without Him you can do 
 
CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 
 
 69 
 
 nothing ; no, not so much as think a good thought. 
 But you can do all things through Christ strength- 
 ening you. He is the sufficiency of all his people. 
 By faith in him you obtain power to perform duty. 
 By grace are ye saved, and that not of yourselves ; 
 not of works, lest any one should boast. Could 
 works save us, we might boast, and heaven would 
 be full of boasters. But, no, no, no ; the song 
 of the saints is, Not unto us, not unto us, but 
 unto thy name be all the glory.” 
 
 Your affectionate Father, 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
 It may be thought that a transition from seclu- 
 sion to an active life, from the habits of a retired 
 village to the busy haunts of men, is more safe 
 when gradual than when sudden, and that as young 
 persons must sooner or later be connected with the 
 world that lies in \vickedness, it • were better to 
 accustom their minds by degrees to a contact 
 which will be afterwards unavoidable. A Chris- 
 tian parent will, however, feel extremely jealous 
 of the modern practice of exposing youth to a 
 prurient knowledge of evil, of removing parental 
 superintendance at too early an age, and of allow- 
 ing an unrestrained freedom of association, which 
 appears to me, as it did to Mr. R. to be attended 
 with great danger. The effects of present habits 
 
70 
 
 HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 are but too obvious ; premature and indiscrimate 
 intercourse, and the relaxation of former discipline, 
 has generated a race of Tyros whose chief dis- 
 tinction seems to be a contempt for authority, and 
 a rash and arrogant pretension to superiority very 
 unbecoming their years or station. It is far 
 better to train up a child in the ways of God than 
 in the maxims of the world, — to be more intent on 
 securing for him an entrance into life eternal, than, 
 with a hope of present advantage, to put to hazard 
 the salvation of his immortal soul. I would apo- 
 logize (if apology be necessary) for dwelling on 
 details which may appear too trifling for notice, 
 but the Christian parent, who can duly estimate 
 the ‘potency of little things,’ may collect from 
 them some useful hints for the regulation of his 
 own family, and with this view I insert them. 
 
 Mr. R. was an early riser, and he endeavoured 
 to inspire the same activity into the minds of his 
 children. He used to read with them in his study, 
 at as early an hour as six o’clock in the morning, 
 and as occasions arose, prayed with them in succes- 
 sion ; he was very attentive to their regularity, 
 neatness, and good manners, and he endeavoured 
 to make the conversation at table useful and 
 improving. Sometimes he proposed a subject for 
 discussion, and when he perceived youthful spirits 
 rising to excess, he would throw in a remark to 
 
HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 71 
 
 check the exuberance. No one aimed more con- 
 stantly to restrain the evils of the tongue in his 
 family ; if ever an observation was made to the 
 disadvantage of another, his uneasiness was appa- 
 rent ; slander in any shape was distasteful to him, 
 and he was sure to say something in the way of 
 allowance or excuse. Indeed Mr. R, particularly 
 excelled in conversational powers : with a fund of 
 good humour, he abounded in anecdote, and having 
 a large acquaintance with science of every kind, 
 he never failed to entertain ; and with a soul ever 
 intent on the glory of God, and the best interests 
 of his fellow creatures, he was under no tempta- 
 tion to sacrifice the useful to the amusing. Table 
 talk is seldom regarded with a proper sense of its 
 importance. Servants are often on the watch to get 
 something for circulation, and to retail among 
 themselves the opinions which their masters have 
 expressed in their presence : the general strain of 
 social intercourse ought therefore to be regulated 
 with a view to their improvement. Children 
 are apt to trifle, and relate all they have heard 
 without discrimination, and they need an elder to 
 guide and give a tone to their conversation ; this 
 my excellent friend accomplished in a manner the 
 most felicitous ; he allowed and even encouraged 
 perfect freedom and ease, yet every one felt that 
 there was an eye and an ear over every thing. 
 
72 
 
 HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Innumerable mischiefs arise to children from 
 too close an intimacy with domestics ; a founda- 
 tion is often laid, here, for opinions and habits 
 difficult to be afterwards eradicated : not only 
 are coarse and vulgar tastes imbibed, but vices of an 
 appalling character are learnt in the stable or the 
 kitchen, where ready instruments are frequently 
 found to concur in deceiving a parent, or gratifying 
 some bad propensity in the minds of children. It 
 was a point of importance in Mr. R.’s mind, that 
 no wicked person should dwell beneath his roof ; 
 his domestics, as far as practicable, were selected 
 from persons of good principles, and they became 
 deeply attached to the family. Yet, even under 
 these circumstances, he forbad all unnecessary 
 intercourse ; there are, doubtless, many faithful 
 servants, worthy of our esteem and confidence, but 
 as a general rule, intimacies of this kind are pro- 
 ductive of evil, and no good can arise from too 
 close a connection between our children and de- 
 pendants. Mr R. provided each child with a 
 separate sleeping-room, thus securing a comfort- 
 able place of retirement and devotion. These little 
 sanctuaries were always accessible to himself ; 
 he often visited them to leave a note on the 
 table ; for while at home, as well as when 
 abroad, he kept up a correspondence with his 
 family, which he used to call Yii^ Home Mission ; 
 
HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 73 
 
 and to these notes he requested a reply. I have 
 heard him explain his reasons for so singular 
 a method of instruction ; he used to say, I 
 feel an insurmountable backwardness to close 
 personal conversation with my children, when 
 I begin, they are silent, and it is not long be- 
 fore I also feel tongue-tied ; yet I cannot be easy 
 without ascertaining the effect of my instructions, 
 and hence I have been driven to use my pen, because 
 I could not open my lips.” Mr. R. is not the only 
 father who hast felt and yielded to this repug- 
 nance, without adopting his ingenious remedy for 
 a weakness not uncommon, yet not the less to be 
 lamented. I am, however, disposed to estimate 
 this home correspondence more highly than a 
 direct personal appeal. Conversation, (if it be not 
 a contradiction so to speak,) is apt to be all on 
 one side ; but a communication by letter admits 
 of freedom and reflection, and if a reply be ex- 
 pected, obliges an interchange of sentiments. It 
 also teaches young people to think and compose. 
 
 When circumstances required a longer epistle, 
 as when a fault needed correction, or a removal 
 from the family was about to take place, — when 
 preparation for a religious ordinance was required, 
 or the choice of a profession to be made, — on such 
 occasions Mr. R. was diffuse, earnest, and par- 
 ticular ; at other times his little notes contained 
 
74 
 
 HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 only an affectionate suggestion of a text for 
 meditation, or a hint to improve some event. He 
 seemed anxious that his children should have 
 a subject, to use his own phrase, “ on the stocks,’’ 
 and a habit of always employing their minds, and 
 making the best use of the hours which usually 
 run to waste, — the moments and interstices of 
 time. He used to say, ‘‘ an idle 'moment is 
 Satan’s opportunity,” 
 
 The reader may expect a specimen or two of 
 these short notes, which, as I have already 
 observed, were conveyed by himself, and left on 
 the table in his children’s rooms, with a request 
 for a reply within a limited time. These replies 
 formed the subjects of his prayer on their behalf. 
 
 Dear H. 
 
 “ Your text to-day shall be, ‘‘ the blood of 
 Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.” No sin is too 
 great to be pardoned ; but then the soul must 
 seek, believe, and experience this mercy. There 
 is infinite value in the blood of Christ, but the 
 believer alone enjoys the privilege. ‘‘ Believe on 
 the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” 
 This is the way, and the truth, and the life. My 
 dear child, what should, what could we lost sin- 
 ners do, if it were not for this atoning merit. 
 Seek and you shall find. Lose no time, — Christ 
 
HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 75 
 
 waits to be gracious, carry your heart and all its 
 feelings to him in prayer, and when you have told 
 him all your wants, pray for your affectionate 
 Father, 
 
 L. Richmond.’’ 
 
 My dearest F. 
 
 “ As I trust that it is your own and my wish, 
 that your mind should be seriously and affection- 
 ately directed towards the greatest of all external 
 privileges, the Lord’s Supper, I wish you to an- 
 swer me in writing, these two questions : — What 
 are your views of the nature, design, and privilege 
 of this sacrament ? and what are the real feelings 
 of your heart at this time respecting it ? This 
 communication is, and shall be, quite confidential 
 between you and your affectionate Father. 
 
 P. S. I trust the first Sunday in October may 
 unite us at the feast of love.” 
 
 My dear L. 
 
 ‘‘ I leave these few lines with you, in the hope 
 that you will reply to them while I am in Cam- 
 bridge. You must write, therefore, not later than 
 by Tuesday’s post. I do from my heart desire to 
 know whether you do, or do not, feel an anxiety 
 about your soul’s salvation. Has the affecting 
 thought, ‘ I must live for ever in heaven or hell,’ 
 
76 
 
 HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 suitably impressed your mind ? This- black border 
 may remind you of your dear departed brother, — 
 but does his memory live in your heart for good ? 
 It is time you seriously reflected on eternity, and 
 the value of your soul. You are a sinner ; and with- 
 out a gracious Saviour you must perish. Do you 
 pray in Christ’s name ? and that earnestly, for the 
 pardon of your sins ? May I hope that you are a 
 penitent ? Do you think of Willy’s last words to 
 you, and of all that he so earnestly recommended 
 to your serious attention ? Have you written down 
 his dying words, as I desired you ? Be not afraid 
 to open your mind to me. Let us have an unre- 
 served intercourse with each other. Put away 
 childish things, — imitate your brother’s love of 
 learning, but especially his love of the Bible, and 
 his constancy in the exercises of devotion. Oh ! 
 comfort your Father s heart, by truly turning to 
 God, and seeking his salvation ; and may God 
 bless you for ever and ever, which is the fervent 
 prayer of your affectionate parent, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 My dear Child, 
 
 .‘‘I am pleased, much pleased with your letter, 
 the more so as it contains some expressions, which 
 inspire a hope that you are beginning to think and 
 feel seriously about your soul’s salvation. While 
 
HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 77 
 
 I cannot but be most tenderly affected by the loss 
 of my two elder sons, endeared to me by a thou- 
 sand recollections, I become the more anxious for 
 the welfare of those children whom God spares to 
 me. For the last year I have gone through great 
 trials, and my health has suffered more than any 
 are aware of ; but in the midst of all my sorrows, 
 the inexpressible goodness of God has been most 
 manifest, and I trust my afflictions have been 
 blest to many. Many a rose has sprung up 
 around the cold grave of dear Willy, and they 
 still blossom, and I trust will continue to blossom, 
 till they be transplanted from the spiritual garden 
 of Turvey, to the paradise of God. But can I be 
 otherwise than anxious that my dear K — should 
 add a flower to my domestic and parochial shrub- 
 bery. Are you to reach your sixteenth year, and 
 not internally, as well as externally, prove your- 
 self a partaker of the grace of God. I trust not, — 
 but religion is not a matter of mere circumstantials, 
 or even of morals. It is the spiritual application of 
 divine truth to the heart, producing that devoted- 
 ness to God, which distinguishes the true from the 
 nominal Christian. But when, how, and where 
 does this begin? Not until you have deep, hum- 
 bling, sincere, and anxious thoughts about your- 
 self, and the favour of God ; not until, by a kind 
 of holy violence, you feel constrained to flee to 
 
78 
 
 HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Christ, as the only refuge from the wrath to come ; 
 not until prayer becomes importunate, and the 
 study of God’s word a delight ; not until every 
 other consideration yields to that infinitely impor- 
 tant inquiry, What must I do to be saved ? ” 
 Not until the light, trifling, and thoughtless child 
 of man be converted, through grace, to the serious, 
 conscientious, and believing state of the real child 
 of God. Is this the case with you ? I speak as a 
 Christian father, and minister. What are your 
 views of these important subjects ? I wish my 
 child to be deeply in earnest ; life flies apace, the 
 period of the tomb advances. I have four children 
 in eternity ; it is true that eight more still continue 
 with me on earth, but how long will they be here ? 
 Which of them may next be taken from me ? I 
 think on these things with deep solemnity. You 
 tremble at the thought of a school-examination, — 
 but what is this to the examination before the 
 judgment-seat of God. Go, then, as a sinner to 
 Christ. He sends none empty away. In him 
 and him alone, there is a rich provision for all 
 who come to him. But let this coming mean a 
 surrender of all you are, and all you have, to the 
 Lord of grace and glory. Be contented with 
 nothing short of reality in religion. 
 
 Whence came I? — memory cannot say 
 What am I ? — knowledge will not show ; — 
 
DISCIPLINE. 
 
 79 
 
 Bound whither? — ah! away — away — 
 
 Far as eternity can go ; 
 
 Thy love to win, thy wrath to flee, 
 
 Oh God ! thyself my helper be.’^ 
 
 Farewell, dear child, and believe me. 
 
 Your truly loving father, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 Discipline is a subject of no small moment in 
 the education of a family. Oifences must needs 
 come, and the foolishness which is bound up in 
 the heart of a child, will discover itself in acts of 
 disobedience both to God and a parent. How 
 this is to be met, controlled, and subdued, has 
 occasioned a difference of opinion between good 
 and wise men. It is agreed that authority must 
 be maintained, and that all that is sinful and 
 injurious to a child’s welfare, must be firmly 
 resisted. But it is not easy to avoid the extremes of 
 harshness, and a weak fondness ; — to he firm, yet 
 kind ; to do nothing from temper, from partiality 
 or caprice ; to preserve composure under cir- 
 cumstances of provocation. 
 
 I cannot undertake to decide whether corporal 
 chastisement is to be inflicted or dispensed with. 
 The Scripture warns us equally against severity 
 and undue tenderness, not to provoke to wrath, 
 nor honour our children above God ; ” on this 
 
80 
 
 DISCIPLINE. 
 
 point men must determine according to the dic- 
 tates of their own consciences. So far I am satis- 
 fied, that there are few occasions when the rod is 
 indispensably necessary, and none which will jus- 
 tify its use under the rufflings of temper ; nor will 
 the effect be salutary, if a child does not at the 
 time feel it to be a reluctant severity, giving 
 more pain to the offended, than to the offender. 
 Force may be the easier way of settling a 
 difference, and is probably often resorted to from 
 a wish to escape the trouble and labour of more 
 reasonable methods of eradicating evil; but it 
 seldom fails to excite sinful exasperations, and 
 induce a brutish character ; and the example on 
 the part of the parent, is often found unfavourable 
 to right dispositions in the other members of the 
 family towards each other. Yet I am bound to 
 admit, as the result of my own observation, that 
 even severity is a less evil in its consequences, 
 than a weak connivance at a child’s misconduct. 
 The parent who “ never displeases his child at 
 any time,” must expect to reap the fruits of his 
 own folly in the ruin of his offspring. Excessive 
 indulgence seldom fails to bring a rebuke along 
 with it. Mr. Richmond’s method of discipline 
 was peculiar to himself, partly the effect of his 
 own unbounded tenderness and affection, but, in a 
 great measure, of his deep and extraordinary piety. 
 
DISCIPLINE. 
 
 81 
 
 He could never be justly accused of a weak con- 
 nivance at evil, for here he was resolute, firm, and 
 inflexible ; yet he was never known to employ 
 corporal chastisement. Whatever may be thought 
 of his treatment of offences, it was felt by every 
 member of his family, that nothing could make 
 him yield, or shake his resolution, — nay, not for a 
 moment. He was alive to all that was wrong in 
 principle or conduct, and he never ceased to 
 remonstrate, or to employ means to reduce his 
 child to obedience, and awaken in him a sense 
 of error. But the chief way in which he marked 
 his displeasure, was by those signs of extreme 
 distress, which penetrated the heart of the delin- 
 quent, and softened rebellion into regret. From 
 the misconduct of his child, he seemed to reflect 
 on himself, as the author of a corrupt being. He 
 humbled himself before God, and in prayer 
 sought help from above, while he kept the offen- 
 der at a distance, or separated him from the 
 society of his family, as one unworthy to share 
 in their privileges and affections. No one of 
 his children could long endure this exclusion, 
 or bear with sullen indiflerence, a countenance 
 which silently expressed the deepest anguish. 
 Perhaps there never was a family where the 
 reign of love suffered less interruption. The 
 reader must form his own opinion of Mr. R’s mode 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 of regulating his family. He must determine for 
 himself, how far a discipline of this kind is worthy 
 of imitation, or is suitable to his own circumstances. 
 Where there exists the same consistency and unity 
 of purpose, an equal desire to glorify God in all 
 things, and a similar diligence in the education 
 of a family, I feel confident that the divine 
 blessing will crown with success . the exercise 
 of this or any other discipline of a Christian 
 parent. 
 
 Two or three other letters to his children, 
 touching both on lively and on serious topics, will 
 appropriately close this chapter. 
 
 Sea Ba7ik, Ayrshire, 
 
 My much LOVED F— , 
 
 ‘‘ As you hear all the good news from Glasgow, 
 I need not repeat it. Now take a Scotch map 
 and you shall see where I am. Look on the sea 
 coast of Ayrshire, and you see a place between 
 Ayr and Largs, called Salt Coasts. Close to this 
 is a lovely cottage called Sea Bank, the residence 
 of my friend Mr. — . In the front is a magnificent 
 view of the sea as far as Ireland — The Frith of 
 Clyde with its beauteous islands — Arran, whose 
 craggy picturesque .mountains tower to the sky in 
 the wildest, highest style of romantic grandeur 
 and beauty — Bute, smaller, but very lovely — The 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 83 
 
 Cumbraies — The long peninsula of Can tyre, and 
 over it the high pyramidical mountains of Jura — 
 The coast of Ayrshire, farther than the eye can 
 reach, and the surprising rock called the Craig 
 of Ailsa, rising up in the midst of the ocean, far 
 away from all land, and sustaining solitary majesty, 
 the almost unmolested haunt of Vv^ild birds, goats, 
 and rabbits. Yesterday there was a great storm, 
 and the sea raged horribly* I saw many a vessel 
 tossed about in all directions. I went down to the 
 shore, and stood astounded amidst roaring waves, 
 screaming‘sea fowls, and whistling winds. To-day 
 all is calm, gentle, and inviting. Yesterday I saw 
 the sublime, to-day the beautiful. I am writing 
 at a window which commands the whole view. 
 Somehow or other I am much amused with the 
 appearance and conduct of a large flock of poultry, 
 just now parading about on the lawn beneath 
 me. There are five pea-fowls, six turkies, twenty 
 cocks and hens, and a solitary goose from Botany 
 Bay. • They walk and talk with much diversified 
 gait and air. The sober gravity of their pace, 
 occasionally interrupted by a gobble, a jump, and 
 a snap ; the proud loftiness of the peacock, some- 
 times expressed in solemn silence, and sometimes 
 by a very unmusical squall. The ruffling vibra- 
 tions of the turkey cock’s feathers, with now and 
 then a brisk advance towards his rival of the 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREIV. 
 
 green ; the social grouping of the cocks and hens, 
 contrasted with the unsocial condition and march 
 of the poor unpartnered goose, who grunts dis- 
 mally, and sometimes turns up a doubtful sort of 
 a side look at me, as I sit at the window, as much 
 as to say, Who are you ? ’’ Sometimes a conti- 
 nued silence for a space, and then a sudden and 
 universal cackling, as if they were all at once 
 tickled or frightened, or in some way excited to 
 garrulity. All this amuses me not a little. There 
 are also two noble watch-dogs ; I wish they had 
 been at the house when the robbers came. I 
 feel much when at a distance from home, — even 
 minor sources of trouble harass and disturb me, 
 when I am so far from you. Let us pray for faith 
 and confidence in God alone. I think of going to 
 Iona, it is sacred and classic ground. May every 
 blessing attend my children. 
 
 So prays their affectionate father, 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
 Glasgoiv. 
 
 My own dear Child, 
 
 “ On my return home, I found your letter, and 
 hasten to give you a few lines in reply. I thought 
 you long in writing, and welcomed your hand with 
 much delight. Indeed, my F — , you and I are not 
 sufficiently intimate in religious intercourse and 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 85 
 
 correspondence ; we must become more so, and 
 may God enable us. Let us walk and talk, and 
 sit and talk more on these subjects than we have 
 done. Time flies, events are uncertain, provi- 
 dences, health, and life are transient and mutable. 
 
 I hope the ensuing winter will unite us closer than 
 ever. Winter is my domestic dependence ; your 
 heart is with me in this feeling. I much regret 
 that circumstances have prevented your travel- 
 ling with me this year, but I hope next summer 
 will be more propitious. When I return we will 
 read and talk over together such scenes as we 
 mutually love, and you shall hear of my interest- 
 ing journey to Staffa and Iona. Nature, grace, 
 history, antiquity, compassion, taste, and twenty 
 more subjects and affections all meet there. I 
 will match the festival which I gave to the poor 
 children of Icolmkill on St. Colomba’s day with 
 
 the gala of Mr. . Moreover I wrote a right 
 
 noble copy of verses for the children to sing. Mr. 
 M. is a truly valuable man. He grows daily in 
 my estimation. I feel much pleased at the pros- 
 pect of my dear ’s union ; her tender heart 
 
 is fixed, although her affections are strongly bound 
 to her family. Encourage and elevate her spirits 
 when you write, for her nerves are delicate. It 
 is a great question, and God I trust is settling it 
 for her. * * * # * Mr. M. is a man of 
 
86 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 God, and makes religion and conscience the ground 
 of all he says and does.. 
 
 Read the life of Mrs. Isabella Graham of New 
 York, Mr. M’s aunt. It will shew you the sort 
 of piety of Mr. M. and his family, all of whom 
 are valuable characters. 
 
 What a terrible storm you had ! The Lord rides 
 in the storm. ‘ He can create, and he dekroy.’ 
 I hope you do not forget him in the midst of 
 agreeable society. The care of a soul, its 
 natural departures from God, its proneness to 
 make idols of the creature, and the extreme nar- 
 rowness of the strait gate, are subjects for our deep 
 meditation. Alas ! how many among our respec- 
 table and decent friends and acquaintance are still 
 in an unconverted state, strangers to the real 
 experience of the heart, and unacquainted with the 
 love of Christ ! Carelessness and comparative in- 
 sensibility, ruin more souls than deliberate acts of 
 resolute iniquity. You have need to be jealous 
 over your own soul, and to watch and pray that you 
 enter not into temptation. Real piety is a very 
 different thing from mere decent profession, edu- 
 cational propriety, and orderly conduct ; yet with- 
 out it none can enter the kingdom of God. Where 
 a deep sense of guilt and depravity does not sub- 
 sist, all else is a mere name, and it is much easier to 
 admit this as a doctrine, than to feel and act upon 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 87 
 
 it as a truth. I want my children to be living 
 commentaries on my sermons and principles. I 
 long to see them adorning the Gospel of Christ in 
 all things, and that from the inner man of the 
 
 heart. I have no objection to Mr. ’s being 
 
 liberal and hospitable. I only lament that among 
 the lower classes, dancing and debauchery are 
 nearly synonymous, and therefore I must absent 
 myself from such fetes. So poor dear S. W. ^ is 
 dead. To what trials are the best Christians for 
 a time given up ! Frequently during delirium, the 
 most holy have appeared the most wicked in 
 thought and action. But of her Christianity I 
 
 cannot have a doubt. ^ * I saw last 
 
 week * ^ Oh ! how time flies, generation suc- 
 
 ceeds generation, like waves * on the sea ; but 
 whither shall we float at last ? Much, much, very 
 much goes to secure a safe entrance into the eter- 
 nal harbour of peace and safety. All subjects 
 sink into insignificance compared with this. How 
 foolish, how wicked are we in this matter ! Fare- 
 well, my beloved F , much of my domestic 
 
 comfort depends on you ; love your father, for 
 indeed he loves you. When and while you can, 
 be a prop to his feelings and spirits. Now the 
 period is arrived when I look for the harvest of 
 
 ‘ One of his poor parishioners. 
 
88 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 filial intercourse, of which I sowed the seeds with 
 such anxiety in your infancy and childhood. May 
 every blessing be with you, in time and eternity. 
 Seven times a day I pray, and say, “ God bless 
 my dear wife — God bless my dear children — God 
 bless my dear parishioners'— and God bless my 
 own immortal soul.” 
 
 This comes from the heart of your loving father, 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
 Extract of a letter to his daughter F 
 
 ‘‘ I saw A M last week ; she is like 
 
 no one else, it is a little Paradise to be where she 
 is : simplicity, fluency, devotedness, natural talent, 
 and gracious acquirements at eighty-four, concen- 
 trate a kind of glory playing around her head 
 
 and heart. Mr. — — has left , there are 
 
 great lamentations, but I think I see the hand 
 of God in it ; there is danger indeed when the 
 minister, rather than the master, is the object 
 of delight ; but such religion will soon decay and 
 dissipate. # * * * ^ 
 
 thing, my F , is most certain, that a great 
 
 deal more than commonly manifests itself amongst 
 the generality of rich and genteel professors, is 
 necessary to adorn, if not constitute, real, vital, 
 saving religion. The manners, the opinions, the 
 luxuries, the indolence, the trifling, the waste 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 80 
 
 of time and talents, the low standard, the fastid- 
 iousness, the pride, and many more etceteras stand 
 awfully in the way of religious attainment and 
 progress ; hence it is, that in so many instances, 
 the religion of the cottage so much outstrips that 
 of the mansion ; and that we derive so much more 
 benefit from intercourse with the really sincere 
 Christians amongst the poor, than amongst the 
 too refined, showy, luxurious, and dubious pro- 
 fessors in higher classes. Thank God, however, 
 there are some, though few, yet delightful, spe- 
 cimens amongst the rich ; the gate is not too 
 strait for some of the camels. * * # * 
 
 Allow me, with a heart full of love and esteem for 
 
 my dearly loved F j to ask whether you have 
 
 considered the subject of my last letter ; do you 
 not see, on mature examination of your own heart, 
 that religion has not done all that it ought to have 
 done in this respect for my dearest child ; has 
 not something of discontent been mingled with 
 the lawful exercise of affection ? has not Christ 
 been in some degree robbed of his love and duty 
 in your heart of late ? I entreat my dear child to 
 take this frank, but affectionate reproof in good 
 part. I love you so dearly, that I want to see you 
 holy, happy, and heavenly. True, deep, and 
 unfeigned piety will alone induce a right frame ; 
 not the fretful weariedness of this world, but the 
 
90 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 mind reconciled to all the dealings of the Lord, 
 because they are His, and that for both worlds. 
 — I gave an historical, antiquarian, ecclesiastical, 
 picturesque, mineralogical and religious lecture 
 on Iona and Staffa, to about 150 ladies and gentle- 
 men in the school-room at Olney last Wednesday. 
 T spoke for two hours and a half. I produced 
 fifty illustrative pictures, and all my pebbles and 
 other specimens. I did the same at Emberton. 
 All expressed satisfaction. 
 
 Your affectionate Father, 
 
 L. R.’’ 
 
 Turvey, Dec. 1824. 
 
 “ I think, dearest F , that the plan which I 
 
 suggested will be best for your return home ; give 
 me a letter to precede you. “..Hie sumusj ” quiet, 
 comfortable, and uniform in our daily course, 
 without many striking events to diversify it by 
 day or by night, unless it be that the younger 
 bairns are rather noisy by day, and the cats in the 
 garden outrageously so by night. Mamma is de- 
 tained at Bath, by the lingering and precarious state 
 
 of Mrs. C . Willy is not materially different. 
 
 My dear, my much-loved boy ! No one will ever 
 know what I have inwardly undergone on his 
 account since May last. I have no reason to 
 doubt that his mind is in a good state, but I think 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 91 
 
 its exercises are somewhat too dependent on the 
 fluctuations of' his body. I entreat you, when 
 restored to his companionship, to second every wish 
 of my heart in promoting serious, devotional, and 
 determinate piety and occupation of heart. I 
 sometimes fear that his mind is too playful, too 
 comparatively careless, in the midst of carefulness. 
 He is an invalid of too precarious a class to trifle, 
 or to be trifled with. Watch over his besetting 
 infirmities, and aim, without appearing to intend 
 it, to correct them. 
 
 Many persons, God be praised, appear at this 
 time to be under serious impressions, and the 
 Lord’s work in this parish is evidently progressing. 
 I earnestly wish to see it so under my own roof, 
 as well as in my neighbours’ cottages. Yes, my 
 
 F , my own loved child, I wish to witness 
 
 more positive, decided, unequivocal, demonstra- 
 tions of it in your own heart. Beware of substi- 
 tuting mere sentimentalism for vital experience ; 
 and any, however subtle, species of idolatry for 
 the simple, sincere, unsophisticated love of 
 Jesus. Jesus, the sinner’s refuge ! — ^ Jesus, the 
 sinner’s friend ! — Jesus, the sinner’s companion. 
 Beware of the fascinating but dangerous tribe of 
 poets, fictionists, story-tellers, and dramatists, 
 whose writings steal away the heart from God, 
 secretly poison the spring of devotion, create false 
 
92 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 standards of judgment, and rob God of his honour. 
 Never let the ignis fatuus of genius beguile you 
 into the swamps and puddles of immorality, much 
 less of infidelity : the heart is deceitful above all 
 things, and desperately wicked : who can know 
 it ? Ten thousand thieves and robbers within are 
 continually purloining God of our best affections ; 
 they assume imposing attitudes, array themselves 
 in false attire, speak flattering words, “ prophecy 
 smooth things,” delude the imagination, and 
 darken the soul. Watch and pray, that ye enter 
 not into temptation. Always keep a searching 
 experimental book in private reading, to accom- 
 pany the study and daily reading of the word of 
 God. Beware of trifling and mere gossiping 
 conversation, even with religious friends ; the 
 aforenamed thieves and robbers are never more 
 active than under the plausible guise of unprofita- 
 ble intercourse with those, whom on good grounds 
 we esteem. 
 
 The time is short,” should be written on every 
 one and every thing we see. Dear Charlotte 
 Buchanan is now gone to the rest that remaineth 
 for the people of God. Do you not now feel, that 
 had you anticipated so speedy a bereavement, 
 many a thought would have been cherished, 
 many a word uttered, many a conversation held, 
 more congenial with the idea of her early flight from 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 93 
 
 time to eternity, from the visible to the invisible 
 world ? But you know not who may go next. 
 If, then, where health may still bloom on the cheek, 
 so much consideration is due ? how much more 
 so, when sickness and anticipated decay warn us, 
 that those we love, may not long be with us. I 
 deeply feel that our general standard of social and 
 domestic religion is too low. It does not suffi- 
 ciently partake of the more simple and pure 
 vitality of the poor man’s piety. The cottage 
 outstrips the drawing room, in the genuine char- 
 acteristics of the gospel efficacy. The religion 
 of the one is more like wine, that of the other, wine 
 and water in various degrees of mixture. There 
 is not only to be found in the religious world, a 
 solid, substantial, consistent, and devoted char- 
 acter, but there is also what may be termed a 
 pretty genteel sort of evangelism, which too well 
 combines with the luxurious ease and partial 
 acquiescence of the world, and the flesh, not to 
 say the Devil also. But such evangelism will not 
 prepare the soul for sickness, death, and eternity, 
 or will, at best, leave it a prey to the most fearful 
 doubts, or, still more to be feared, the delusions of 
 false peace. The way that leads to eternal life is 
 much more narrow, than many of our modern pro- 
 fessors are aware of ; the gate is too straight to 
 allow all their trifling, and self-will, and fastidious- 
 
94 
 
 LETTERS TO IIIS CHILDREN. 
 
 ness, and carnal-mindedness to press through it. 
 The gospel is a system of self-denial ; its dictates 
 teach us to strip ourselves, that we may clothe 
 others ; they leave us hungry, that we may have 
 wherewith to feed others ; and send us bare-footed 
 among the thorns of the world, rather than silver- 
 shod, with mincing steps, to walk at . our ease 
 amongst its snares. When our Lord was asked, 
 ‘‘ Are there few that shall be saved? ” he an- 
 swered neither Yes nor No; but said, Strive to 
 enter in at the straight gate,” and this word 
 “ strive,” might be translated agonize.” Beware 
 of belonging to that class, which Mrs. H. 
 ingeniously calls ‘‘the borderers.” Choose whom 
 you will serve, and take care not to prefer. Baal. 
 Ask yourself every night, what portion of the past 
 day have I given to God, to Christ, to devotion, 
 to improvement, to benevolent exertion, to effec- 
 tual growth in grace. Weep for the deficiencies 
 you therein discover, and pray for pardon and 
 brighter progress. We intend next Thursday to 
 give a little feast to a great company of the poor 
 children of Turvey. Dear Willy will not be able 
 this year to explain the Magic Lantern, and talk 
 to them about “ Lions and Whittingtons,” so we 
 
 must try to be optical without. H will act 
 
 behind the scenes, but make no speeches. * * 
 
 * ^ * I hope to hear 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 05 
 
 a better account of Mrs. W , to whom present 
 
 my very affectionate regards. From my heart I 
 wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new 
 year when it comes. St. James explains Merry,” 
 (James v. 13.) so does our Lord, (Luke xv. 24.) 
 May such merry-makings be ours. Our love to 
 all. Tell Mr. M. to write to Wilberforce. I want 
 correspondents who will do him good, and not 
 trifle. I am to preach two Missionary Sermons 
 at Cambridge on the thirteenth. Farewell, my 
 
 beloved F , come quickly here, and be 
 
 assured how truly I am. 
 
 Your faithful loving Father, 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
 January 6, 1825. 
 
 My dear F 
 
 “ Your communication is just such as I wish 
 you often and again to repeat. Let your heart 
 be confidential, and you will ever find mine re- 
 sponsive to it. * * * ^ May no 
 
 trifles- ever wean your affections from the un- 
 speakably important subjects of eternity. Idols 
 are bewitching, dangerous things, and steal away 
 the heart from God. The most lawful things may 
 become idols, by fixing an unlawful degree of affec- 
 tion upon them. One reasomof the difficulties with 
 which you meet on the subject of prayer may be. 
 
96 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 the not sufficiently looking by faith unto Christ. 
 Essential as prayer is, both as a privilege, an 
 evidence, an instrument of good, and a source of 
 every blessing ; yet it is only the intercessory 
 prayer of Christ, that can render our prayers 
 acceptable and efficacious, and it is only by lively 
 faith in the Great Intercessor, that we can 
 obtain a heart to pray. Thus faith and prayer act 
 in a kind of circle in our minds, and each produces, 
 (experimentally) and is produced, by the aid of the 
 other. I am glad you like Mr. Bickersteth’s little 
 book on prayer, — all his publications are good. 
 There are many books as well as general conversa- 
 tions about religious matters which, after all, do not 
 bring home true religion to the heart. Religious 
 gossiping is a deceitful thing and deceives many. 
 How many professors of religion will utter twenty 
 flippant remarks, pro or con, upon a preacher, 
 where one will lay his remarks to heart. How 
 many look more to the vessel than the excellency 
 of the treasure contained in it. Some people 
 cannot relish their tea or coffee, unless served in a 
 delicate cup, with a pretty pattern and a gilt edge. 
 Let poor dear Charlotte Buchanan’s sudden call 
 from time to eternity, warn us how needful it is 
 to die daily not to trifle with our souls, when 
 eternity may be so near ; nor to boast of the 
 morrow, when M'e know not what a day may bring 
 
letters to nis children. 
 
 97 
 
 forth. Willy is anxious for your return, he droops 
 at present, and wishes to have his dearest friends 
 near him. * # * I rejoice to find your 
 
 recent meditations have opened to your conscience 
 besetting infirmities. Press forward, my child, 
 let them not gain an ascendancy. Beware of 
 mere sentimentalism, of satire, of fastidiousness 
 towards persons and things. Beware of bigotry 
 and prejudice, of procrastination, of the love of 
 fictions, of dangerous, though fascinating poets, 
 &c. ^ ^ ^ I wish you, my love, to attach 
 
 yourself to visiting the sick, and conversing use- 
 fully with the poor ; to the instruction of poor 
 children ; to religious correspondence and conver- 
 sation, with a few sincere friends ; and particularly 
 strive to commence and continue spiritual con- 
 versation with our dear Willy. 
 
 “ I lately watched the young moon declining in 
 the western sky— -it shone sweetly. Sometimes a 
 cloud shot across the disk — sometimes a floating 
 mist partially obscured it, alternately it was bright 
 again : it sometimes silvered the edge of the very 
 cloud that hid it from sight. At length the lower 
 horn touched the horizon, then the upper horn, and 
 then it wholly disappeared. Venus remained to 
 cheer.dhe gloom. I said to myself, ‘ There is the 
 decline of my loved boy, and ^/?c7Tisthe star of hope.’ 
 
 Your aflectionate father, 
 
 H L. Richmond.” 
 
98 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 London, June, 1825. 
 
 Dear F. and dear H.- 
 
 “ Between the morning and evening services 
 of this day, I have a leisure hour, in which I feel 
 as if I should like to sit down and talk with you 
 two. I miss our early morning exercises much, 
 and this for the present must be the substitute on 
 my part. I have nothing very particular to 
 recount, only that 1 have been to a few places, 
 where I was last summer with my beloved Wil- 
 berforce, and I have indulged the silent tear as 
 I retraced incidents never again to recur. At some 
 places, where my friends remember his visits and 
 conversations, I am asked, ‘ how he is,’ with inte- 
 rest in their manner, and I have to tell how he has 
 taken his flight to another and a better world ; and 
 it affects me greatly so to do. I know not how it 
 is with me, in regard to that dear boy’s loss, but I 
 talk less and think more than ever about him. The 
 fortnight preceding, and the one succeeding his 
 death, are indelibly graven on my heart’s recollec- 
 tions, and sometimes overpower me in a way of 
 which none of you have any real idea. Sometimes 
 my mind is strengthened, but at others weakened 
 by these reflections. I am sometimes comforted, 
 at others terrified by these exercises of mind. 
 With what liveliness do the scenes of our northern 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 99 
 
 tour press upon my mind : the lovely Isle of 
 Bute 'with all its magnificent scenery, the incom- 
 parable beauties of Loch Lomond, and Loch Long, 
 with their hospitable friendships ; the wild loveli- 
 ness of Inverary, and Loch Awe ; the fine views 
 on the Firth of Clyde, with the moral and in- 
 tellectual characteristics of many a kind friend ; 
 the steam-boats, the carts, the cars, the mountains, 
 all * associate with him, and are endeared to 
 me beyond expression. I linger over all the 
 spots we visited together, from Loch Awe to 
 Glasgow, Carlisle, Keswick, Woodhouse, Mat' 
 lock, &c. to Turvey. I love to think of our pri- 
 vate reading in my little bed-room at Rothsay ; 
 his first communion at Greenock, and then to 
 connect all with his closing days. It is my 
 weakness, my fault, my misfortune, that I cannot 
 express more of my mind and feelings to you both. 
 
 Dear, dear H ! you are now become the prop 
 
 and stay of my declining years, think much 
 of the station in which God has placed you. My 
 first-born is a distant wanderer, and God knows 
 when or whether I shall see him again on earth.* 
 My second boy is taken from me, you are my 
 third, but now my first. Be such to your two 
 
 younger brothers, particularly to L ; he needs 
 
 your constant superintending care ; watch over 
 him, do not leave him to seek unprofitable 
 
 H 2 
 
100 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 associates ; cherish the little germ of hope, which 
 God has planted in my bosom concerning him, 
 let your example influence, and your kind atten- 
 tions encourage him in every good way, and think 
 much of your own soul. Beware of declensions, — 
 remember the last words of dear Wilberforce, — 
 live up to his advice. How my heart yearns over 
 you, and all your prospects. What are you? 
 What are you to be, my loved child? Write to 
 me freely. 
 
 V And my F also ; are you as much alive 
 
 to spiritual things, as when you hastened to the 
 dying bed of dear Willy, — as when you wept over 
 his coffln ? My child, dread all decays, and may 
 the flame of spiritual piety never grow dim amidst 
 the mists of unworthier speculations. Visit the 
 cottages, — forsake not the poor, for your Father’s 
 sake. 
 
 “ I have been this morning where you might 
 least have expected to find me ; but I went not 
 from curiosity, but from a conscientious wish to 
 know and judge for myself, viz. to the Roman 
 Catholic Chapel in Moorfields, to hear high mass. 
 I was astonished at the decorations, the gorgeous 
 dresses of the bishop and priests, charmed with the 
 exquisite beauty of the music, disgusted at the 
 ceremonial mummery of the service, and uncon- 
 vinced by the bishop’s eloquent sermon in defence 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 101 
 
 of transubstantiation. It was all illusion, delusion, 
 and collusion. The service lasted near four hours. 
 I bless God more than ever for true Protestantism. 
 I shall hear the Messiah performed to-morrow. — 
 Such music I love, it lifts my soul to heaven. 
 I am sick and disgusted with common light 
 modern songs, — they are unfit for Christians. Oh ! 
 what music is my Willy enjoying in heaven. 
 Shall we all enjoy it with him ? The question 
 often sinks me in the dust. My dear, my most 
 dear children I press forward to the prize of the 
 mark of our high calling in Christ Jesus. There 
 is an immense gulph to be passed. Who is 
 sufficient for these things? 
 
 Say truly kind and pastoral things for me to 
 my dear people at Turvey. Truly I have them 
 in my heart. — My children all, I kiss you from 
 a distance ; believe how much and how tenderly I 
 love you ! * * * 
 
 “ P. S. — Monday . — I am just returned from 
 hearing the Messiah. In the two grand chorusses, 
 I thought I could hear my Willy’s voice, and it 
 quite overcame me. Past, present, and future, 
 mingled in strange and affecting combination. 
 These feelings are sometimes too much for your 
 poor father.” 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 * A man that is young in years may be old in hours, if he have 
 lost no time.’ — Bacon. 
 
 It may easily be conceived with what anxiety 
 Mr. R. would contemplate the removal of his boys 
 from the paternal roof, when their age should ren- 
 der it unavoidable. The difficulty of placing young- 
 persons in suitable situations is greatly increased 
 in the present day by the numbers who are press- 
 ing into every trade and profession, and by the 
 modern practice of excluding youth from the mas- 
 ter’s family, a practice which may conduce to the 
 comfort and convenience of the latter, but which 
 necessarily exposes the clerk and the apprentice to 
 the worst temptations. Mr. R. knew perhaps less 
 than many other parents how to place out his chil- 
 dren to advantage. He was not wise for this world, 
 and though few had fairer opportunities or friends 
 more able to advise and help him, he shrunk 
 from availing himself of these advantages, to a 
 
RESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 103 
 
 degree which we cannot approve, while we res- 
 pect his delicacy and paramount regard to the 
 honour of religion. He was not the ablest coun- 
 sellor under such circumstances, except indeed 
 on one point, that the welfare of the soul should 
 be the governing principle in the selection of a 
 profession. He gave an unbounded liberty of 
 choice to his children, with one exception, an 
 exception which it is difficult to imagine would 
 not equally be made by every Christian parent. 
 The profession of arms, if not in itself unlawful, is 
 so irreconcileable with the spirit of a peaceable 
 religion ; and a life of comparative idleness or of 
 activity amidst the horrors of destruction, is so 
 repugnant to the principles and feelings of a 
 disciple whose Master came not to destroy but to 
 save men’s lives, that a right-minded man can 
 scarcely be supposed to admit a preference for 
 it. Persons of undoubted piety have been dis- 
 covered in camps as well as in peaceful fields, but 
 it has generally been found that their knowledge 
 of God was subsequent to their choice of the pro- 
 fession. The Christian under an actual engage- 
 ment in a service may decide “ to abide in the 
 calling wherein he is called,” and honour God in 
 his vocation ; but this is a widely different deter- 
 mination from a choice made with the knowledge 
 of peace and love in Christ Jesus. 
 
104 RESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 One of those events which often inspire a prefer- 
 ence for a soldier’s life, I mean the show of military 
 parade, excited this inclination in Mr. Richmond’s 
 younger son. To this choice Mr. R. expressed his 
 dissent in the strongest terms. “ Any thing but 
 this,” said he, “any thing but this — the very menr 
 tion of a military life fills me with horror ; I cannot 
 bear to think of a child of mine engaging in scenes 
 of bloodshed and destruction. No consideration 
 on earth could extort my consent. It would make 
 me really miserable.” 
 
 The following letter to his daughter F is the 
 
 best transcript of his thoughts and feelings on this 
 subject. 
 
 “ I grant, dearest F , you may charge me with 
 
 the fault of which you have often been culpable ; 
 I have no very good reason to assign for delay, and 
 therefore will rather take my share of blame, than 
 furnish you with a bad argument, or a bad exam- 
 ple, in the duty of letter-writing I rejoice 
 
 in your account of Turvey, a spot that is always 
 in my mind’s eye, when not in my sight. Dear 
 loved parochial and domestic village ! Thou art 
 endeared to me by a thousand considerations, both 
 as it respects the living and the dead. “ When I 
 forget thee, let my right hand forget her cunning.” 
 No succession of time or circumstance has weaned 
 or ever can wean my heart from the chancel 
 
RESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 105 
 
 vault. There is a young* triumvirate increasingly 
 endeared to me, one in heaven and two on earth, 
 and their names shall be recorded together, — 
 
 Wilberforce, Henry, and C . Dear boys ! born 
 
 in the same village, companions in the same school, 
 partners in the same recreations, partakers of the 
 same eucharistic table, friends in every social 
 pursuit, and dare I say, heirs of the same glory ? 
 United by the ties of the same grace on earth, 
 may they share the same felicity in heaven. I am 
 glad that your meditations have been, of late, deep 
 and important. Pray that they may continue so. 
 Life is short, eternity is at hand, banish all need- 
 less reserve, banish levity, banish dulness, be 
 much with Christ in prayer, and, I had well nigh 
 added, much with your father in his study. Cul- 
 tivate an interior acquaintance with H , and 
 
 do all you can with L and T . There 
 
 is something wanting amongst us, whether in 
 family duet or chorus, as to really improving and 
 spiritual conversation ; too much worldly bustle, 
 too much regard to passing events, too much con- 
 sequent alienation from the one, the only, thing 
 needful. Without inquiring who is the most in 
 fault, let each of us strive to resist the evil and 
 
 cleave to the good When I think of my 
 
 boys and C , I bless God for village seclusion, 
 
 and greatly rejoice that they have been kept at a 
 
106 
 
 RESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 comparative distance from the evil communications 
 which corrupt good manners. The world, even in 
 its apparently harmless form, is a terrible snare to 
 
 the young and uninformed mind I before 
 
 gave you my opinion on Sunday evening walks, I 
 have often earnestly denounced them to the people, 
 and need not add a word to you on this head. 
 
 There is a subject which often hangs 
 
 heavy on my spirits, I mean my poor dear T ’s 
 
 inclination for a military life. Hating war as I 
 do from my very heart; convinced as I am of 
 the inconsistency of it with real Christianity, and 
 looking on the profession of arms as irreconcileable 
 with the principles of the gospel, I should mourn 
 greatly if one of my boys chose so cruel, and, 
 generally speaking, so profligate a line of life. I 
 could never consent to it on conscientious grounds, 
 and therefore wish this bias for the profession of 
 arms to be discouraged. I dislike and oppose it 
 with my whole heart. May God, the God of peace 
 
 bless you, my much loved F ; give a Christian 
 
 message of pastoral love to my dear flock ; I often 
 think and pray for them. Love to the boys. You 
 know well how truly and sincerely I am. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
KESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 107 
 
 The strongest desire Mr. R. ever expressed with 
 respect to his children, was, that they might devote 
 themselves to the service of the sanctuary. I 
 have no concern,” he. used to say, ‘‘ about their 
 temporal provision, God will take care of that ; 
 but I should rejoice to see every one of my boys, 
 actively and usefully engaged in the church of 
 
 God.” His son H chose the sacred profession, 
 
 to which his father consented, but the necessity 
 of his removal to the university, haunted him like 
 a spectre. He passed many anxious days and 
 sleepless nights in anticipation of the event ; and 
 at times he seemed to be in the deepest trouble ; he 
 talked and wrote continually about the possible 
 consequences of it. The subject seemed to 
 absorb his thoughts, and depress his spirits : 
 “ What if my boy should fall a victim to associa- 
 tions which have blasted the fairest hopes of many 
 a Christian parent. He may do without learning, 
 but he is ruined body and soul if he be not wise 
 unto salvation.” Such acute distress may appear 
 to some a sort of extravagance, and to others a 
 pitiable dotage. It is true, feelings of this order 
 require controul, but allowance should be made for 
 the overflowings of parental anxiety, and the dread 
 of a transition and revolution of habits not without 
 danger, and aflbrding just grounds of apprehension. 
 There are occasions in which it is difticult to 
 
108 
 
 RESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 preserve the mind in due balance, when not to 
 feel deeply implies a culpable indifference to the 
 interests of eternity, or at least a very low estimate 
 of their paramount importance. 
 
 Mr. Richmond, as will appear from subsequent 
 events, was standing on the verge of eternity ; his 
 health and spirits had been greatly shattered by 
 the severe family trials through which he had 
 lately been made to pass ; and his feelings on all 
 subjects connected with religion, were wrought 
 up to a pitch of acuteness, which rendered unne- 
 cessary contact with the world almost insupport- 
 able. There need seldom, however, be any dread 
 of a glow of feeling that “ would consume us ; ” 
 it is much more to be deplored, that men can 
 sustain the exceeding weight of things which 
 are eternal,” with so little emotion, and waste their 
 chief energies on those which endure only for a 
 season and then flee away for ever. 
 
 With respect to our Universities, I am not dis- 
 posed to join in the unmeasured and ignorant 
 objurgation, with which they have been assailed 
 by their enemies, and even by those who owe 
 much of their eminence in society to the advan- 
 tages derived from them. It is easy to blame 
 and difficult to improve ; plausible theories may be 
 suggested, and the rude hand of revolution, under 
 the specious name of reform, may proceed to 
 
RESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 ]09 
 
 experiments, which are often mischievous, and 
 always uncertain in their issue. The question is 
 not what is desirable, but what is practicable : how 
 little is to be expected from attempting too much, 
 is observable in the strictness of statutes, even to 
 absurd minutiae, compared with the feeble dis- 
 cipline, which corrupt beings will allow to be 
 enforced. It is indeed devoutly to be wished, 
 that a more vigilant superintendence were exer- 
 cised over the private habits of the young men, as to 
 the facilities of contracting debts, and of admission 
 into college after the closing of the gates, — that 
 something more of the spirit of religion were 
 infused into its forms ; that less were left to the 
 discretion of ‘‘ the mad age that the authority 
 and duty of the tutor should not be confined to 
 the hours of lecture. Desirable as are such 
 improvements in college discipline, I am not pre- 
 pared to show how they can be made, unless the 
 minds of men were more deeply impressed with 
 the true end of education, the training a soul for 
 eternity : and I shall not indulge in idle declamation 
 against evils which I may lament, but cannot cure. 
 The dangers incident to inexperienced youth at the 
 University, are confessedly great, but they attach 
 to all situations of their early career, and are not 
 peculiar to their residence at these noble monu- 
 ments of ancient piety and munificence. Yet, a 
 
110 
 
 RESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 Christian parent, in matriculating his son at 
 College, will feel increasing responsibility to 
 commend him to the Spirit of God for protec- 
 tion and guidance, and to use every precaution 
 against the evil influence to which he may be 
 exposed from the corrupt example of contempo- 
 raries, or the too great liberty allowed to himself. 
 I would suggest the inestimable advantages to be 
 obtained from the help and superintendance of a 
 private tutor, of an age to be a companion, and 
 of talents and piety sufficient to make him a useful 
 guide. Such a one intrusted with authority to 
 direct his pupil’s conduct and studies, would secure 
 every thing within human means, which an anxious 
 parent could desire. 
 
 The last production of Mr. R.’s pen was a paper 
 of warnings and instructions for his son. This 
 paper was found on his table after his death, and 
 was evidently the result of his dying meditations. I 
 deeply regret that it has been lost, and that I cannot 
 gratify the reader by the valuable hints which it 
 might have suggested. The subject, however, is 
 too important to be passed over in silence, and 
 I will venture to supply the defect by a letter 
 of my own, written under circumstances not much 
 dissimilar. 
 
LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN. 
 
 Ill 
 
 To a young friend on going to College. 
 
 My dear young friend, 
 
 ‘"You request my advice on a subject which 
 will probably give a direction to your whole life. 
 I give it you with the more satisfaction, because I 
 believe you are not one of those who ask counsel 
 with a previous determination to follow their own 
 judgment, and who set no value on experience for 
 which they have not paid the price in their own 
 mistakes ; but are anxiously looking out for a 
 guide, and ready to follow him. After twelve 
 years’ residence in one of our Universities, I may 
 fairly be supposed to know something both of their 
 dangers and advantages. I am aware of the 
 temptations to which you will be exposed in your 
 new situation ; yet with respect to myself, I may 
 assert, that they were by no means so great as 
 others have represented them, — fewer, and less 
 dangerous than the after trials of manhood, or 
 even those of my boyish days at school. 
 
 “ The opportunity you now have of acquiring 
 solid learning, and of laying the foundation of all 
 that will be useful to you in life, is incalcu- 
 lably valuable, and it should be your chief concern 
 to embrace the golden moment with firm and 
 steady grasp. Accept then, with my best wishes 
 
112 
 
 LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 and prayers for your welfare, the result of past 
 observation at Alma Mater. 
 
 “ 1. Wherever you are, in or out of the Univer- 
 sity, much will depend on the regulation of yourself , 
 We are apt to lay the blame of our indiscretions 
 and failures on our circumstances, and to suppose 
 that we should act differently under other influ- 
 ences ; but this is a great mistake ; for circum- 
 stances, though I. admit they have a powerful 
 influence on our conduct, do not so much form, as 
 discover our character. Be Lord of your own 
 mind,” and you will rise above outward trials. Try, 
 then, to understand yourself — your strong, and 
 your weak points. 
 
 “ Begin and end the day with prayer ; but con- 
 tent not yourself with an indolent or hurried 
 exercise of devotion without heart or meaning, 
 and a cursory or irregular glancing at a passage 
 of Scripture, under an idea of satisfying conscience, 
 or doing your duty. Consider seriously the chief 
 end of the appointment, as the prescribed chan- 
 nel of intercourse with God. Your strength, 
 success, and preservation from evil, all depend 
 on communion with him. Every thing will go 
 well or ill with you, in proportion as you are 
 brought into contact with the divine Spirit. In 
 reading the Bible (I am now speaking of religion 
 and its practical application to your heart and 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 113 
 
 conscience, and not of theology as a science and 
 profession,) take a few verses, and meditate and 
 pray over them till you get the spirit and meaning 
 of them wrought into your own soul. If you do 
 not understand a passage, you may apply to a 
 commentator for explanation ; otherwise be your 
 own expositor, — preach to your own heart, and feed 
 on the word of God amidst the aspirations of prayer 
 and praise, and heavenly thoughts and affections. 
 Examine yourself by it, to obtain conviction 
 of sin, and to discover your defects and besetments, 
 — to judge of your progress, and pray for upright- 
 ness and deep seriousness. Look forward to the 
 probable events of the day, and seek grace and 
 help to meet trial, and improve opportunity. 
 Consider that you are entering society with a body 
 of sin and death, ever liable to impart or receive 
 injury, and while you carefully guard against the 
 approaches of evil, you should aim, like your 
 master, to “'go about doing .good.” I think an 
 hour may be well employed in this holy exercise. 
 At night, a shorter time may suffice ; for the 
 spirits will flag, and the body be wearied. The 
 efficacy of prayer does not depend on the length 
 of time employed in acts of devotion : God 
 thinks of mercy, and not sacrifice, and so must 
 you. Such remarks are applicable to all persons 
 and situations, but are more especially important to 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 one in your circumstances. You are now deprived 
 of your father’s conversation, and the devotional 
 exercises of the family, and you have need to redou- 
 ble your diligence in private devotion. Remember, 
 then, that your first and greatest trial will be in your 
 closet; and if you fail here, all will go wrong with 
 you throughout the day. If you rob God, to turn 
 to Euclid or Euripides, or hurry away to chapel 
 without private prayer, because you have given 
 way to sloth, — other motives may stimulate you to 
 be diligent in business, but you will not long con- 
 tinue “ fervent in spirit, serving the Lord;” and 
 if his Holy Spirit forsake you, — and he will forsake 
 you if you grieve him by neglect of the means 
 of grace, — you will fall into many inconsistencies, 
 and in the end lose all love for religion, and 
 concern for your soul, and perhaps by your 
 conduct discredit yourself even in the eyes of 
 the world. 
 
 It is a good habit to keep some subject in mind 
 for occasional employment, — a promise — a precept 
 — an attribute of God, on which to meditate in 
 every vacant moment. There are intervals in the 
 course of your College duties, when you cannot 
 sit down to serious studies. An idle moment fur- 
 nishes at all times a nidus for a temptation. 
 
 “2. Be very cautious in the formation of friend- 
 ships. Your religious and general improvement 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 115 
 
 will be closely connected with the character of 
 your associates. 
 
 You will find me correct in dividing the young 
 men into two classes ; of which one affects to des- 
 pise, and the other professes to honour religion. 
 The former class comprises three sets or parties, all 
 agreeing to live without God in the world, but dif- 
 fering in their manners and pursuits. The first of 
 the three are the men of family and fortune, who 
 spend their time in amusement, attending as little 
 as possible to the studies of the place. For the most 
 part they are men of profligate habits, though not 
 all equally vicious. These call themselves the 
 gentlemen. There is another set of young men who 
 pass by the name of the scamps ; who are not better 
 disposed than the former, but they have not the 
 same means of doing mischief to themselves 
 or others ; they are, however, quite as ignorant, 
 idle, and thoughtless, with the addition of coarse- 
 ness and vulgarity of manners. To neither of these 
 classes must you approximate, but (to speak acade- 
 mically) you must cut them all. I am under no 
 apprehension of your familiarizing yourself with 
 low company ; but a silk gown, or a gold tuft, — a 
 wish to form a high connexion, may tempt you to 
 tolerate what ought to be intolerable to you . At 
 first you may feel disgust at profane and vicious 
 language and manners. Insensibly they will 
 
M6 LETTER- TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 excite less horror. After a time you will think it 
 enough to be personally exempt from these offences 
 — then you may begin to excuse and palliate ; till at 
 length you break bounds, and assume a conduct, 
 and avow a creed, repugnant to your judgment, 
 and which your heart secretly condemns. You 
 will have no difficulty in avoiding such associates ; 
 for, unless you seek an introduction, they will 
 not notice you. The third party which pre- 
 tends to no religion are those who are called 
 the reading men at Cambridge, and the quizzes at 
 Oxford. Their diligent application to study, and 
 desire of distinction in the university, are worthy 
 of your imitation ; for you are sent to College, not 
 merely to get a degree, and barely escape rejec- 
 tion at last, but to obtain a creditable testimony 
 that you have profited by the studies of the place : 
 yet, while I commend the industry of the characters 
 alluded to, and their generally correct conduct, I 
 do not hesitate to say, that their motives and 
 objects are not such as I could enforce upon 
 you. 
 
 ‘‘ It is possible that niy advice to you may be dif- 
 ferent from that of some who nevertheless agree 
 with me in principle. I remember it was said to 
 
 you by Don’t look at every man not strictly 
 
 religious as a wild bear, and a dangerous compan- 
 ion.” Certainly it is not a duty to cherish morose 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 117 
 
 feelings, but rather to cultivate a sweetness of tem- 
 per, and a courteous behaviour towards all : and an 
 occasional interchange of visits, with those who 
 will converse profitably on literary pursuits, can- 
 not be objected to. Yet I wish to be more explicit 
 as to the proper degree of intercourse with those 
 who do not fear God, however creditable and 
 desirable the acquaintance may be in other 
 respects. If you were of long standing in religion, 
 you might venture on many things which you 
 cannot now attempt with safety. They might even 
 become a duty. The firemen must scale the burn- 
 ing roof, while the spectator of the flames had 
 better keep at a distance. You must not try how 
 much poison your constitution will bear, or risk 
 your soul’s health for the sake of any temporal 
 advantage. The world — by which I mean those 
 who are ignorant of religion, or whose hearts 
 are not in it, — must ever be to the true Chris- 
 tian, a cross, or a snare ; and when it ceases to 
 be the one, it will invariably become the other, I 
 cannot approve of whole evenings passed in com- 
 pany, where it is understood that God is never to be 
 referred to, and where the least observation con- 
 nected with eternity, creates a silence, if it does 
 not provoke a sneer, an opposition of sentiment, 
 or a feeling of distaste. To be much in society 
 of this kind beyond the demands of duty or neces- 
 
118 
 
 LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 sity, which you can seldom plead, is surely no 
 better than constructive treason against our Lord 
 and Saviour. If you make the experiment, mark the 
 effect on your own mind. If the tone of religious 
 feeling be impaired, if you grow dull and heartless 
 in devotion, be assured that something is wrong in 
 your motives, pursuits, and associations. So long as 
 you agree to live and converse as if the world 
 were every thing, and God nothing, you may be 
 tolerated, though your professed attachment to reli- 
 gion be known ; or you may even be respected for 
 qualities that are amiable and estimable, and your 
 society may afford satisfaction to literary young 
 men, who would keep you at a distance if you acted 
 consistently with your profession of a purer faith, 
 and stricter conversation. The old rule, “ noscitur 
 a sociis,” is a very wise and safe one. Compare 
 the conversation of your new associates, if you 
 form such, with the discussions you have heard 
 under the paternal roof ; where, though the sub- 
 jects were not always strictly religious, yet the 
 spirit in which they were treated had a tendency 
 not only to improve the mind, but in some way 
 or other to sanctify the heart. Perhaps I feel 
 the more strongly on this subject, partly from hav- 
 ing seen many a hopeful young person entirely 
 ruined by a friendship formed on merely literary 
 grounds, and partly because I perceive a gradual 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 119 
 
 breaking down of old-fashioned distinctions, to the 
 serious injury of true religion. 
 
 ‘‘ Your father has, I find, earnestly intreated you to 
 cast in your lot with those who, by way of reproach, 
 are termed the saints. I know more of this class 
 than he does, who must be in a degree unacquainted 
 with university habits and students ; and I would 
 recommend you not to identify yourself with a 
 sect or party of any kind, without careful discri- 
 mination. The religion of the Bible is often a 
 different thing from that of its professed advocates ; 
 and if our hearts be right with God, there will be 
 occasions when we must stand alone. I do not 
 mean to reflect on the religious body ; for whatever 
 holiness or truth there is in the world, will be 
 found chiefly among them ; but false brethren have 
 ever crept unawares into the Church of God, 
 and have done great injury to sincere and honest 
 members of it ; and there is always reason to fear 
 that when credit and interest are promoted by a 
 profession of religion, some will consent to wear 
 our badge, who are strangers to our principles. 
 In this class you will also find the sons of truly 
 good men, introduced and noticed on the score of 
 their parent’s piety. These are acquainted with the 
 theory of religion, but their hearts are far from being 
 influenced by it ; and former restraints being re- 
 moved, they are apt to yield to corrupt inclination ; 
 
120 
 
 LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 and if they even keep within the bounds of decency ^ 
 (which is not always the case) they gradually 
 adopt the manners and habits of the world. Some 
 of higher pretensions to piety, affect to despise 
 both the studies and honours of the university, and 
 become mere idlers and gossips. They are ready 
 for disputation, and arrogant in maintaining some 
 peculiar view of their own, to the neglect of the 
 plain, simple, practical truths of religion. You 
 need not incur a quarrel in shunning their society. 
 Hold up the torch of real, spiritual, heart religion, 
 and these birds of the night will flee away and 
 leave you.- You will also meet with a few reli- 
 gionists of a squeamish fastidious spirit, who 
 cannot tolerate the defects of less polished, but 
 truly honest and sincere young men. Their idol is 
 talent, which seems to men of this order to com- 
 pensate for the want of piety, if it does not 
 excuse much that is wrong in principle and 
 practice. They seldom discover any vigour, or 
 meaning, or spirituality in their religious profes- 
 sion ; but dwell much on gentlemanly behaviour, 
 and a proper compliance with the world. You 
 must seek your companions amongst those who 
 have evidently thrown heart and soul into the 
 service of their master, and prefer an honest 
 man with his blunders and disadvantages, to 
 those who sparkle with the splendour of superior 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 121 
 
 talent, but whose morbid sensibilities chill the 
 glow of piety. 
 
 3. I particularly recommend you to decline 
 breakfast parties ; for even when the conversation 
 may be interesting and generally improving, there 
 is a temptation to prolong it unreasonably, and 
 thus to infringe upon the regular hours and 
 habits of study. 
 
 ‘‘4. When at college I had a great dread of 
 loungers. My rooms being near the tutor’s, I was 
 liable to be pestered with triflers who came to 
 pass away half an hour in just doing nothing. 
 To bid them leave me would have been an act 
 of incivility; to have looked sour- or appeared 
 fidgetty, would have seemed not less so ; yet re- 
 peated interruptions became at last insupportable, 
 and I had recourse to a stratagem which I thought 
 innocent, and which was certainly very successful. 
 I entertained the man of taste with the discord 
 of my violincello, and the man of no taste with a 
 passage from a classic. After yawning a response 
 or two he soon left me, voted me a bore, and 
 sought more congenial society. If you are hard 
 pushed you may make the experiment, and I can 
 promise a similar result. Security from morning 
 interruptions must be obtained at any expence. 
 Idleness is very contagious, and gossiping of all 
 kinds is a sad waste of tipie. 
 
122 
 
 LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 “5. Remember (for it is an invaluable maxim) that 
 method is the soul of business, and that steady perse- 
 verance is necessary to your successful cultivation 
 of knowledge. Let your time be duly portioned 
 out, and every thing done in its season. — Let each 
 hour have its allotted employment. — Rise early. 
 Keep good hours — your health and success both 
 depend on it. Sitting up late is a very bad habit. 
 Guard against inequality and irregularity : if you 
 read hard for a week, and then idle away whole 
 days in boating and riding, you will make 
 less progress than persons inferior to yourself in 
 ability, but who are steady and regular in their ap- 
 plication. Nothing is to be done by fits and starts. 
 
 ‘‘6. You ought not to think of degrading into the 
 class called the non-reading men, and content your- 
 self with a Fol degree, under an idle pretence 
 of gaining more general knowledge : aim at some 
 academical distinction. T dare not hold out to 
 you as a motive, the love of reputation or the 
 gratification of pride ; but study night and day to 
 honour God and religion. It is worth-while to 
 labour hard to have something valuable in the eyes 
 of the world to lay at the foot of the cross. I have 
 always admired Selden’s reply, when asked how 
 a man of his attainments could lower himself by 
 superstition, (for such his piety was miscalled) — 
 “You may despise religion, but whatever be my 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 123 
 
 attainments in human learning, I do count them 
 all but dung and dross in comparison of the excel- 
 lency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ my Lord.” 
 Men will value the truth as they respect those who 
 profess it. You may find persons 'who cloak their 
 indolence or their dulness under a misapplication of 
 some text of Scripture; but be assured the most spiri- 
 tual and really useful men, if not always possessed 
 of the greatest talent, are those who have made the 
 most of their opportunities. No one’s name slumbers 
 in the Tripos ; it follows him through life, and what 
 he has been at Cbllege, will help or injure his influ- 
 ence in many a country village. When a young 
 clergyman excites attention by a serious application 
 to his duties, it is a common inquiry amongst per- 
 sons who might be supposed not to trouble them- 
 selves about such matters. What degree did he take? 
 Was he distinguished at College ? and he will rise 
 or sink in their estimation accordingly. There 
 may be prejudice and mistake in this, but it 
 carries no small weight to be able to say. Are they 
 philosophers, mathematicians, or linguists ? so 
 am I. Besides, the habit of application to subjects 
 not immediately connected with religion, is a good 
 discipline of the mind, and will accustom it to 
 correct and deep thinking on religion itself. The 
 studies of the university are not, as some suppose, 
 a mere literary trial of skill, and of no further use 
 
124 
 
 LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 than to fill up a space in human life, or fit a man for 
 scientific pursuits alone. If you find the lectures 
 dry, or your Latin irksome, think of working for 
 God’s glory, and Christ’s honour, and it will infuse 
 a vigour and a sweetness into them. I have heard 
 some good young men complain of the loss of 
 spirituality and taste for the Bible, and ascribe this 
 mischief to the absorbing influence of their studies ; 
 but their studies are not to blame, — it is the spirit, 
 design, and end with which they are undertaken. A 
 man may hold communion with God through 
 any medium, or in any occupation, if his heart 
 and aim be right : he may become carnal in the 
 midst of theological pursuits, and may preserve 
 the utmost spirituality while wading through the 
 rubbish of the schools. Remember that it is 
 not your work, but your motive, which will injure 
 or keep alive your piety. 
 
 “You will be required to go to the college chapel 
 morning and evening, with the exception of seven 
 or eight times a week when you may exercise your 
 own discretion as to attendance. I would advise you 
 to be always present. The example even of the reli- 
 gious young men may fail you ; many of whom regard 
 this regular attendance as a waste of time. They 
 complain of the rapid and slovenly way in which 
 the service is performed, and that there is no devo- 
 tion in chants and anthems. But you have nothing 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 125 
 
 to do with the offences of others, or with modes of 
 worship. It is God’s house, God’s service. Honour 
 both, and you shall not have to bewail the unpro- 
 fitableness of prayer under any circumstances or 
 defects. I enjoy cathedral service, — it is to me 
 truly devotional. Men who dislike music may 
 find it less in unison with their feelings, but before 
 it is denounced as a relic of popery it should be 
 remembered that the temple service was still more 
 musical, and our Lord was there. He would not 
 have sanctioned by his presence a mode of wor- 
 ship which contained in it any thing injurious to 
 devotion, or inconsistent with a right frame of spirit 
 in a true worshipper. Go, also, to chapel in proper 
 time ; I know the colleges allow their young men 
 to come in when a third of the service is over, 
 without a mark of absence : a practice which (with 
 all due submission to masters and deans) gives me 
 a painful feeling, for it looks as if chapel attend- 
 ance was considered as a mere roll-call, and it is not 
 surprising that the juniors should hurry to chapel 
 from their beds in a disgraceful dishabille under 
 cover of the gown or the surplice. At first your 
 motives may be suspected, but consistency in this 
 and all other things will ultimately procure respect. 
 
 “7. Never think any time mis-syent which is em- 
 ployed in the service and presence of God. Your 
 attendance at St. Mary’s, though expected, is not 
 
126 
 
 LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 exacted. I have been sorry to hear some young 
 men of high pretensions to religion speak very 
 contemptuously of University sermons, and excuse 
 their neglect of attending them on the ground of 
 unprofitableness. Many admirable discourses for 
 head and heart are delivered at that church, and 
 it is a want of sense to compare a University pulpit 
 with that of a parish. Sermons are much improved 
 in doctrine and application since my day, yet even 
 then I seldom heard a discourse from which I 
 could not gain something useful, either in the 
 elucidation of the text, or by inference, and use 
 of the preacher’s material. But whatever be the 
 defect of a sermon, recollect who has set you the 
 example of honouring the appointment of lawful 
 authority in church and state, and “ fulfilling all 
 righteousness.” I would have you affiliate your- 
 self to the habits, usages, studies, and worship of 
 a university man, and to cultivate a spirit of mo- 
 desty, regularity, order, humility, and submission ; 
 as the prime duty and greatest ornament of a young 
 man in statu pupillari, whose province it is to learn 
 and not to teach. 
 
 “ 8. You wish me to sketch out a plan of study, 
 and an orderly arrangement of your time. Much 
 depends on college appointments ; but leaving you 
 to improve or alter in reference to them, I will 
 comply with your request, observing that it is 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 127 
 
 more easy for me to dictate, than for you to exe- 
 cute. You have need to pray for firmness and 
 resolution ; since any relaxation or breach on your 
 part, except in cases of imperious necessity, will 
 leave you resolving and re-resolving, but never 
 attaining to any eminence. - I suppose the chapel 
 service at eight in the morning and six in the 
 evening, hall at four, lecture at ten, with some 
 other college exercise which you must arrange as 
 you can, the amount of time will be the same. 
 Be always at your private devotions at six in the 
 morning. I need not repeat what I have already 
 said on this subject, except it be again to urge 
 you, on no account to proceed to business, till you 
 have sought help from God. If you be not inflex- 
 ibly steady and regular on this point, you will 
 lose the spirit of religion, and retain only the 
 dregs of form, amidst gods and goddesses, cubes 
 and squares, and triangles, and all the multitudi- 
 nous ideas which are poured into your mind. 
 Devote the next hour to Theology ; I will give you 
 the first year to get an acquaintance with the 
 Hebrew Bible and Greek Testament, till you can 
 read both with as much ease as the English ver- 
 sion. You will need no other helps than Bux- 
 torff’s small lexicon, and Schleusner’s two volumes 
 for the Testament. You are tolerably ready with 
 the grammar of each language, or I should have 
 
128 
 
 LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 added Simons’s grammar for the Hebrew. The 
 very few chapters in Chaldee will be easily mas- 
 tered with Buxtorff’s larger grammar and lexicon. 
 Use and observation will supply a more critical 
 knowledge of these languages without any other 
 assistance. Employ the second year with Scott, 
 for a further acquaintance with the Scriptures. 
 I might point out more able expositors on 
 detached portions, but you will find in him 
 a good compilation from more extensive works. 
 You need not perplex yourself with too many 
 expositors. It would be a very heavy imposition 
 to wade through all the trash and prosings which 
 have been appended to divinity. Difiiculties may 
 sometimes be cleared up by Chronology, Geogra- 
 phy, and Parallelisms, but in most cases the Bible 
 is its own and best interpreter. For the same hour 
 in the third year, read Hartwell Horne. This is 
 an invaluable book for a young man, and you 
 must not lay him aside till you have fully digested 
 his admirable compilations, to guide you in more 
 discursive reading hereafter. College preparations 
 will sufficiently embrace the subject of evidences. 
 Let me seriously caution you against a spirit of 
 curious metaphysical inquiry on those parts of 
 theology, which are more fit for age and experience, 
 if indeed they are ever safe, or profitable, or intel- 
 ligible. The arrogant dogmatism of some reli- 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 129 
 
 gionists is intolerable, their presumption full of 
 danger, and their spirit and temper most unchris- 
 tian. On many points it is best to say with 
 Leighton, “ Here I choose rather to stand on the 
 shore, and in the survey of God’s judgments ex- 
 claim, ‘ Oh the depths,’ than venture out upon the 
 fathomless abyss, from which I may never return.” 
 The present is a childish dispensation, in which 
 we must be content to know little, and strive to do 
 much. During the remaining half year of your 
 academical residence, spend an hour each day in 
 pulpit composition. I hope you do not intend to be 
 a copyist, or one of Dr. Trusler’s disciples. Enrich 
 your sermons to the utmost with the ideas of others, 
 wrought into your own mind, but never transcribe. 
 I am not instructing you how to preach, but how 
 to prepare materials, or I should say many things 
 in relation to the ministry. Get a Bible inter- 
 leaved, and note down all you hear or read relating 
 to the more important texts. I began to do this 
 at an early age, and my preaching bible now 
 contains a mass of references to authors, treatises, 
 commentators, and single sermons, on most impor- 
 tant questions ; so that half my work is done before 
 I begin to compose. My tools are at hand, and I 
 have no need to hunt for them. You will find 
 some useful hints in Claude’s Essay on the frame- 
 work of a sermon, and in the Horae Homileticee,” 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 LETTERS TO A YOUNG JMAN 
 
 the production of the best skeleton- maker in the 
 world. Yet remember an old piece of advice, — 
 “ Nullius addictus in verba magistri.” Imitate no 
 one, but be yourself. Your own clothes will fit 
 you best. Imitators are apt to copy defects as 
 well as beauties, and thus make themselves ridi- 
 culous ; use your own manner and style, that 
 you may be sincere and natural. If you are 
 industrious you will not hereafter have to learn 
 when you are required to teach. Out of the 
 remainder of the - day, take six hours for your 
 college exercises ; and try to be steady, neat, 
 accurate, and eminent in every thing. You will 
 now have spent eight hours in close application ; 
 never exceed them. You may turn to music, which 
 is a great refreshment of the spirits, — to conversa- 
 tion or letter-writing, or whatever requires no 
 effort of mind. Never be out of your room after 
 ten at night, and spend half an hour in devotional 
 exercises before you retire to bed. I shall not 
 repeat what I have said on the subject of prayer, 
 but let me add one caution. You will sometimes 
 have to lament great failures ; do not on such 
 occasions take refuge in loose antinomian notions, 
 nor yet give way to recklessness and despondency ; 
 if God knows you are honest, and striving in all 
 things to glorify him, though you fall seven times 
 a day he will raise you up again. Never resolve 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 131 
 
 to do nothing because you have not done every 
 thing ; nor indeed resolve at all, but cast your 
 troubles on Christ, and set to work again with 
 more diligence, caution, and dependence. 
 
 ‘‘I have said nothing of modern literature : you 
 are already pretty well acquainted with it, and if 
 you can find an hour for lighter reading, which does 
 not fatigue you, it may be well to enlarge your pre- 
 sent stock ; but not to the neglect of other things ; 
 because in vacations you may profitably spend 
 some time upon the historians and English poets. 
 I would have you attend, in turn, the public 
 lectures on anatomy, chemistry, &c. ; — you will not 
 be able to read in private on these subjects, but 
 you may get a general knowledge of them, which 
 will both improve and amuse you. The divinity 
 lecture I advise you to postpone, till you have 
 finished the course of reading on that subject 
 which I have marked out for you. There is one 
 part of my sketch on which I have not been suffi- 
 ciently explicit ; I mean the exercise which is 
 indispensably necessary to health. I have scarcely 
 ever had a pupil- to whom in this respect I did not 
 seem to be another Cassandra, whose predictions 
 no one would believe. I hope you will be an 
 exception. To read yourself blind, deaf, stupid, 
 and nervous, is really a great folly, and a kind of 
 suicide. There have been many sad examples 
 
 K 9 , 
 
132 
 
 LETTERS TO A YOUNG MAN 
 
 of complete failure amongst students, through 
 neglect of exercise, rather than from over-mental 
 exertion. Always take exercise in the best part 
 of the day, and at three periods, — two half-hours 
 by yourself, and two hours with some agreeable 
 companion, with whom the conversation may be 
 interesting ; kindred pursuits will furnish you with 
 abundant materials. 
 
 ‘‘9. Avoid all wine parties, or if circumstances 
 seem to make an occasional visit in this way 
 necessary, firmly adhere to some rule as to quan- 
 tity. I never took more than two glasses, and 
 this determination saved me much trouble and 
 temptation. Acquaintances formed at these parties 
 are transitory, and companions will soon be dis- 
 persed to be heard of no more. A few endeared 
 intimacies are likely to be more durable and 
 valuable. 
 
 ‘"10. The university, which brings together so 
 great a variety of persons, is a good sehool 
 for the study of character ; avail yourself of it ; by 
 the defects of others learn to correct your own, 
 and by their virtues improve yourself. You will 
 seldom find a person who does not excel you in 
 something: lead him to talk on his favourite subject, 
 that you may profit by his superiority. 
 
 “11. With respect to your vacations, I shall only 
 now throw out one hint ; which is, that these must 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 133 
 
 be equally busy periods, if you aspire to academical 
 honours. You will, indeed, be expected to relax 
 occasionally in family parties ; still you must 
 unceasingly pursue your object, and attend to 
 little else. Get up your college subjects for the 
 next term ; you cannot otherwise keep pace with 
 the lectures. 
 
 ‘‘12. Whatever you read, always keep in mind 
 the great truths of the Bible ; fact and observation 
 will strengthen and confirm them. 
 
 “13. Never converse about religion, but in 
 the spirit of religion ; — be earnest, spiritual, and 
 serious ; jokes, and tales, and absurd associations, 
 produce levity of mind, and even hypocrisy ; be 
 cheerful, but not light. 
 
 “ 14. You may start at the amount of what 
 I have stated, but I know from experience that 
 I have proposed nothing which may not be achieved 
 by steady perseverance. Throw your whole soul, 
 
 my dear , into a preparation for a useful, 
 
 honourable, and serviceable life, in the most 
 glorious of all employments, the office and work 
 of the ministry. That God may give you grace, 
 and health, and strength, to become a workman 
 that needeth not to be ashamed, is the earnest 
 prayer of 
 
 your affectionate and faithful friend.” 
 
134 
 
 SUBJECTS OMITTED IN 
 
 I must apologise to the reader for detaining 
 him so long from the more immediate subject of 
 the Family Portraiture. My excuse rnust be the 
 hope that this letter of my own may fall into the 
 hands of some student of the University, and 
 furnish him with useful hints to regulate his 
 conduct and studies. I am satisfied that my 
 sentiments would be found in unison with my 
 friend’s, had he lived to complete his own valuable 
 directions to his son Henry. 
 
 In surveying the variety of circumstances and 
 details connected with Mr. R.’splan of education, 
 it seems to me that two points may be added 
 with advantage. 
 
 It has often been lamented that children and 
 young people receive so little benefit from public 
 instruction. Mr. Richmond did indeed teach his 
 children to pray and read the scldptures ; he wrote 
 a form of prayer for the use of each of them, until 
 they were able to approach a mercy-seat with the 
 expression of their own thoughts and desires. 
 They had the benefit of his family exercises and 
 conversations, and he kept his eye on their 
 behaviour at church : but this is not all that is 
 needful ; they should be frequently examined as 
 to what they hear, and be required to give an 
 account of every sermon ; receiving reproof or 
 
MR. RICHMOND’-S plan OF EDUCATION. 135 
 
 commendation as they appear to have been 
 negligent or attentive. 
 
 It is important also to accustom children to 
 separate a part of their pocket-money for 
 charitable purposes, and to act, in their sympa- 
 thy with the necessitous, on plan and system. 
 Mr. R. was himself hospitable and benevolent ; 
 he contributed largely from his slender means, 
 to the wants of his poor parishioners, and he 
 inculcated on his family the duty of unremitting 
 attention to distress of every kind. But children 
 should be trained to seek out proper objects, and 
 learn to relieve them from their own means, and 
 by the sacrifice of their own gratifications. What 
 portion of our goods ought to be separated for the 
 poor is not determined in the scriptures ; the only 
 definite rule there laid down, is, “ According as 
 God has prospered him, so let every man give as 
 he is disposed in his heart.” Children, as well as 
 grown people, should be allowed opportunity to 
 exercise discretion, and evidence the sincerity 
 of principle : we cannot prescribe any fixed amount, 
 which must vary according to the circumstances 
 of different persons ; still, however, this labour of 
 love ought to be regulated by some definite 
 principle. 
 
 From the foregoing detail of Mr. R.’s laborious 
 and conscientious care of his family, it is natural 
 
136 
 
 THE RESULT. 
 
 to ask what was the result. Delicacy and pro- 
 priety forbid me to speak of the living, though 
 I might there appeal to facts which confirm the 
 truth of that gracious promise, ‘‘ Train up a child 
 in the way in which he should go, and when he is 
 old he shall not depart from it.” 
 
 I shall, however, now endeavour to fulfil 
 Mr. R.’s own intentions, by recording the deaths 
 of his children who died in the faith, and are 
 gone to their rest and peace in Christ Jesus. 
 
LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 137 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The storm that wrecks the wintry sky 
 No more disturbs their deep repose. 
 
 Than summer's evening latest sigh 
 That shuts the rose. 
 
 Montgomery. 
 
 Samuel Nugent Legh, the eldest son of Mr. 
 Richmond, was born at Brading in the Isle of 
 Wight, June 18, 1798. 
 
 From his birth to the hour of his death he was 
 the child of many prayers to God, for life and 
 salvation through a crucified Redeemer. 
 
 ‘‘ My responsibilities,” said Mr. R. ‘‘ are greatly 
 increased by the birth of a son, and I have need 
 of wisdom to preserve this loan of the Lord, and 
 train up an immortal soul for heaven.” 
 
 The views of a Christian parent concerning his 
 offspring are not bounded by time, nor his hopes 
 and wishes limited to a present provision. Our 
 heavenly Father knoweth our wants. We must 
 seek first the kingdom of God and his righteous- 
 
138 
 
 LIFE OF NUGENT RICHMOND. 
 
 ness, and all other things will be supplied as far 
 as is needful to our welfare. 
 
 The first paper found amongst Mr. R.’s memo- 
 randa relating to his son Nugent, is a letter 
 addressed to the sponsors on the occasion of his 
 infant’s reception into the company of believers by 
 the sacrament of baptism. The selection of these 
 parties is often a delicate and a difficult duty to 
 religious parents. The usages of society direct our 
 view towards kinsfolk and intimate friends, and the 
 practice is natural and proper when such can be 
 found possessing a deep sense of the responsibilities 
 of their engagement. But to be swayed princi- 
 pally by relationship or interest in this appoint- 
 ment, is inconsistent with Christian integrity, and 
 is in fact “ honouring man more than God.’’ The 
 church supposes sponsors to be persons of real 
 piety, a company of the faithful who agree “ as 
 touching what they shall ask of God in Christ’s 
 name” on behalf of the infant. They are provided 
 as spiritual trustees to take care that the child be 
 virtuously brought up, and they engage for 
 the fulfilment of conditions, without which, 
 baptism, like the Lord’s Supper, is not available 
 for any benefit. The grace of baptism is not 
 promised to unbelievers, and there are many who 
 are such as to this act, though the term may not in 
 general be applicable to them. The rite is 
 
. SPONSORSHIP. 
 
 139 
 
 regarded by some merely as a compliance with 
 the forms of religion, and by others as conferring 
 a title to covenant privileges, rather than as com- 
 municating any actual benefit. But the church 
 of England, and I may add, all the reformed 
 churches, define this sacrament to be an outward 
 and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace ; 
 ordained by Christ himself, as a means whereby 
 we receive the same, and a pledge to assure us 
 thereof.” 
 
 To maintain that the right administration, 
 independant of the right reception, of an ordinance, 
 is effectual, would be to sanction the errors of 
 Popery ; and it would be extravagant to assert 
 that all baptized persons are regenerate, since 
 the fact is palpably against such an assumption. 
 Whether we say with Arminius, that the grace 
 of baptism has been lost, or with John Calvin, 
 7iuirified, by the non-fulfilment of engagements ; — 
 whether by the terms regeneration, renovation, or 
 conversion be meant, the return, the confirmation, 
 or the original impartation of a divine influence, 
 (the phrase matters not), it is most evident that those 
 who do not bring forth the fruits of the Spirit are 
 not “ partakers of an inward and spiritual grace 
 and it becomes the ministers of religion to exhort 
 such persons to pray, and seek for that change 
 of nature without which no man can enter into 
 
140 
 
 SPONSORSHIP. 
 
 the kingdom of heaven. This view of the subject 
 secures every practical and useful purpose, and it 
 would be more advantageous to men’s souls to 
 contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to 
 the saints, than to strive about words to no profit. 
 
 Christian parents and sponsors would do well 
 to consider whether their own ignorance and 
 unbelief, as it respects this solemn ordinance, may 
 not have provoked God to withhold the blessing 
 promised to us and to our children.” We know 
 that under the law, the child was cut off who 
 
 had broken the covenant,” only by the contempt 
 or neglect of circumcision on the part of his sinful 
 parents; and why may not the hypocrisy of sponsors 
 in the performance of a Christian rite be the 
 cause of its almost general inefficacy ? 
 
 It is an argument of no little weight in favour 
 of sponsorship, that this appendage to Christian 
 baptism has been sanctioned by high antiquity. 
 It is not a novelty of modern times. It universally 
 obtained in the Jewish church, and was continued 
 in the church of Christ to the sixteenth century ; 
 its rejection, together with that of the baptism of 
 infants, originated with the enthusiasts of Munster. 
 I repeat the remark, sponsorship was associated 
 with baptism in the Jewish church, and unless in 
 the application of a rite long practised to a new 
 dispensation, the concomitants of that rite, ‘"the 
 
SPONSORSHIP. 
 
 141 
 
 answer of a good conscience,” by and for others 
 were repealed, — (and we have no proof nor reason 
 to suppose they were repealed) the disciples, as 
 Jews, could not interpret their commission, but 
 in connexion with their early associations and the 
 constant practice of their nation. 
 
 If this argument does not so firmly establish the 
 use of sponsorship as to invalidate baptism without 
 it, (which neither we nor the foreign churches 
 maintain) it is surely sufficient to rescue the cus- 
 tom from the ignorant contempt with which it is 
 too often treated. 
 
 It will be seen by the following letter, that Mr. 
 R.’s sentiments were in unison with what has 
 just been stated, on this interesting appendage to 
 Christian baptism. 
 
 ""To the worthy God-father and God-mother 
 of Samuel Nugent Legh Richmond. 
 
 "" Suffer the anxious feelings of a father to plead 
 an apology for addressing, petitioning, and admo- 
 nishing you on a subject so near, so dear to his 
 heart, as the future welfare of an infant child : I 
 need not to remind you, that the institution of 
 sponsors at the baptism of every young child, is a 
 pious precaution of the church, intended to pro- 
 vide for, and ensure the religious education of its 
 
142 
 
 LETTER TO SPONSORS. 
 
 members. With regard to the natural parents' 
 of the child, they are considered as already en- 
 gaged under such strict bonds, both by nature and 
 religion, to take care of his spiritual welfare, that 
 the church does not suppose that she can lay them 
 under any greater; but still makes a provision, 
 that if notwithstanding these obligations, the 
 parents should be negligent, or if it should please 
 God to take them to himself during the infancy 
 of their children, there may yet be others who 
 stand solemnly pledged before God and his church, 
 to see that such infants are not without instruction 
 in consequence of such carelessness or untimely 
 death of their parents. Hence it follows, that a 
 charge of the most serious and important nature is 
 undertaken by the spiritual parents or sponsors, 
 who are therefore called. Fathers and Mothers 
 in God ; and in all matters which concern the 
 godly instruction, Christian principles, and pro- 
 gress in piety of their God-children, they do most 
 assuredly and unequivocally become answerable 
 for their faith and practice, so far as human 
 vigilance and endeavours are concerned. True it 
 is, if they have the satisfaction of observing 
 that the natural parents zealously, piously, and 
 unremittingly superintend the Christian edu- 
 cation of their infant charge, much of their 
 own attentions are rendered unnecessary ; — still. 
 
LETTER TO SPONSORS. 
 
 143 
 
 however, their own responsibility remains unal- 
 tered by any circumstance, from the hour of 
 baptism to the years of discretion and understand- 
 ing, and it is incumbent on them to see and know 
 that all things are provided, and nothing omitted 
 which is conducive to the soul’s health of their 
 children in God. 
 
 Having thus stated my ideas of the indispen- 
 sable duties of God-fathers and God-mothers in 
 general, I am naturally led to make the immediate 
 application to the present case. I hope and trust 
 that myself and my dear Mary are too deeply 
 impressed with a sense of our duty, (exclusive 
 of parental affection) to omit anything which may 
 tend to the Christian instruction of our young ones. 
 If, therefore, it should please the Almighty to spare 
 us life and health, I shall look forward with 
 increasing pleasure to the prospect of our child’s 
 being so educated, that even those who stand 
 solemnly pledged on the subject, shall have little 
 else to do than to observe, examine, and approve. 
 At least, I pray, that under God’s blessing on our 
 endeavours, it may be so ; — but, should our infant 
 be deprived of parental solicitude and attention 
 through death, or debility of mind or body, on you, 
 my dear and much respected friends, it will rest to 
 provide all that in your name has been vowed, 
 promised, and professed for him. In such an 
 
144 
 
 LETTER TO SPONSORS. 
 
 event, I intreat that no pains may be spared to 
 train up my little infant in the love and fear 
 of God, in the faith of the Redeemer, and grate- 
 ful love to him, and with a firm reliance on the 
 assistance of the Holy Spirit. Let the Scriptures, 
 and not the common-place morality of the times, 
 be made the ground-work of his conduct, his prin- 
 ciples, and his future hopes ; teach him that true 
 charity is the offspring of Christian faith, and that 
 heavenly hope can alone spring from their united 
 dominion over his heart. With such a foundation 
 he will learn to be thankful and contented in 
 every condition of life, and under every dispensa- 
 tion of providence. Let him be so fortified with 
 the true armour of the Christian, that the shafts 
 of that horrid and specious monster infidelity may 
 ever be repelled with humble confidence and just 
 indignation. 
 
 Teach him to know that although the gospel 
 gives no encouragement, no, even the least hope, 
 to morality without faith, yet that faith without 
 works is dead. 
 
 ‘‘ That, notwithstanding our most punctual obe- 
 dience to the commandments of the law, we are still 
 unprofitable servants ; (the merits of the Saviour, 
 not our own merits, rendering us acceptable to 
 God,) yet that the fruits of the Spirit are to be 
 seen in practical activity in promoting the good 
 
LETTER TO SPONSORS. 
 
 145 
 
 of others, as well as in the purification of our- 
 selves. Let this, and every other Christian 
 principle be engrafted on his heart, gradually, 
 and in due progress, with the advancement of his 
 understanding ; so shall your weighty duties be 
 fulfilled, and my heart be at ease. 
 
 Should the boy’s life and my own be spared, 
 it will be my delight to endeavour to make him 
 what I consider the first of characters, — a real 
 Christian. 
 
 ‘‘ With respect to all other parts of education, it 
 is foreign to the purpose of this address ; which is 
 solely made on the subject of the baptismal vow, 
 accompanied by a fond father’s comments, expla- 
 nations, and wishes. My present fears are not 
 lest he should be poor or unlearned in what the 
 world calls wisdom and accomplishment ; all must 
 prosper in the end, if he be but rich in good 
 works, and wise unto salvation. I conclude, 
 therefore, with a blessing upon you all ; and if this 
 epistle be of a more serious (and to you I will not 
 add tedious) description than you are accustomed 
 to peruse, the best apology to be made for it is,* 
 that it comes from a parish priest, an affectionate 
 father, and 
 
 Your faithful brother-in-law and nephew, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 REMARKS ON THE MINISTRY. 
 
 It was Mr. R’s earnest desire, that his first- 
 born child should be a minister of the Lord, 
 and a servant of the sanctuary ; his son’s course 
 of education was conducted with this view, both 
 while he continued at Brading, and on his subse- 
 quent removal to Turvey. 
 
 There was nothing censurable in Mr. R’s wishes 
 for his son’s introduction to the ministry ; but con- 
 sidering the peculiar character and requirements 
 of a minister of the gospel, it may be doubted 
 whether it would not be more consistent that the 
 designation of a young person to that sacred pro- 
 fession, should follow, rather than precede, a dis- 
 covery of fitness for it. I am not here speaking 
 of the awful profanation of making a boy a cler- 
 gyman because he shews an incapacity for other 
 situations, or with a view to some worldly ad- 
 vancement, or for the sake of literary respectability 
 and enjoyment ; such motives and ‘practices cannot 
 be too strongly deprecated : is it not to bring the 
 lame, and the blind into the temple, and to offer 
 money for the gift of God ? in such, God can have 
 no pleasure, neither will He accept an offering at 
 their hand. Mai. i. 2, 12. But I am adverting to 
 an error, not uncommon even among religious 
 parents, of selecting the future occupation of the 
 ministry for their children on the general grounds 
 of correct conduct and amiable dispositions. God 
 
REMARKS ON. THE MINISTRY. 
 
 147 
 
 has taken into his own hands the work of the 
 sanctuary ; when He calls and separates by his 
 Spirit, we may co-operate with His purposes, and 
 supply materials and tools for His workmen ; but 
 it is seldom desirable to anticipate the divine will 
 on this head, or forget that there must be, not only 
 a real conversion of heart to God, but a peculiar 
 aptness for the work, to justify an entrance into 
 the sacred calling. 
 
 Such was Mr. R’s judgment in after-life ; and 
 his tender mind sometimes reverted to his disap- 
 pointment in poor Nugent’s delinquencies, as a 
 rebuke for his presumption. 
 
 It appears that Mr. R. early adopted the 
 practice of corresponding with his family ; and . I 
 present to the reader a letter to Nugent, as a 
 pleasing specimen of his happy manner of addres- 
 sing his children. 
 
 My dear little boy, 
 
 ‘‘ You cannot think how glad I was to see your 
 letter ; so glad that it made me weep : if you knew 
 how dearly I love you, I am sure you would 
 dearly love .me ; and if you knew how dearly God 
 loves you, you would love Him also. Never 
 forget God, for He is always thinking about you ; 
 do you not see how good He is to you, in giving 
 you a papa and mamma, and sisters, and friends, 
 
148 
 
 REMARKS ON THE MINISTRY. 
 
 and a house to live in, and food, and so many 
 other good things. 
 
 “ I preached a sermon last Sunday to some hun- 
 dreds of little children, and you can hardly think 
 how well they behaved, and how silently and 
 closely they attended to what they heard. Many 
 of them when they returned home, wrote down 
 what they heard from me at church : when will 
 you do so, my dear Nugent ? I hope you get your 
 
 lesson well for Mr. D ; how kind he is to teach 
 
 you ! I hope you pray for me every day ; I often 
 pray for you, and God will hear both you and me, 
 if we pray with our whole hearts. When you 
 have read this letter, yon must go and kiss M. and 
 F. and H. and tell them I bid you do so for me, 
 because I am far away, and cannot give them 
 myself a proof of my affection for them. 
 
 My Nugent, you are the eldest ; if you are a 
 good child, they may follow your example, and 
 if you are a bad boy, it will teach them to be 
 sinful ; and that will make God very angry, and 
 me very unhappy. You are now every day grow- 
 ing older, and you ought to grow wiser and better, 
 and then you will be a comfort to us all, and I 
 shall rejoice and praise. I wish you to-morrow 
 morning to read the xth. chapter of St. Mark, and 
 you will see how Jesus Christ loved little children, 
 and how he took them up in his arms and blessed 
 
Nugent’s removal to school. 
 
 149 
 
 them. 1 hope he will bless you, and then you 
 will go to Heaven when you die ; but without a 
 blessing from Christ you never can go there. I 
 trust I shall see you again soon. You must pray 
 to God to bring me back in health and safety. I 
 have written to you as long a letter as perhaps 
 you will like to read : one thing only I will add, 
 that 
 
 I am your true loving Papa, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 For some years Nugent was educated at home ; 
 being seldom absent from his Father’s eye : 
 companions he had none, for Mr. R. was 
 afraid of bringing his son in contact with any 
 associations out of his own family. It may be 
 doubted how far it was wise to confine a boy to 
 his own resources for amusement ; for at this time 
 Mr. R. had not provided the philosophical appa- 
 ratus, by which he afterwards supplied his chil- 
 dren with full employment in their leisure hours : 
 certainly the future transition from these restraints 
 to the almost unbounded freedom of association 
 at school, proved injurious to Nugent. 
 
 As Mr. R’s public engagements increased, he 
 found it necessary to remove his son to other 
 superintendance ; and he placed him under the care 
 of ; in this situation Nugent attached him- 
 
150 
 
 NUGENT SENT TO SEA. 
 
 self to a companion of bad principles and incorrect 
 conduct, who in the end succeeded in perverting 
 the victim of his confidence. It became necessary 
 to remove the bad example from the family, and at 
 last, though with great reluctance and bitter dis- 
 appointment, Mr. R. consented to the advice of 
 his friends, and placed his son in a merchant 
 vessel. All hopes of the ministry were abandoned ;• 
 and Nugent, now a wanderer in the wide world, 
 had to make his own way in life. Many affecting 
 circumstances relating to this exile from his 
 father’s house, have been already detailed in Mr. 
 R’s own memoirs, and I am obliged to forego their 
 introduction in the present narrative. 
 
 The repetition of such details, are not, however, 
 essential to my purpose ; which is not so much to 
 gratify curiosity, as to shew the great advantage 
 of a religious education, amidst the most discou- 
 raging and distressing disappointments ; and that 
 the promises of eventual success, under all the 
 oppositions of a fallen nature, and the worst 
 temptations to evil, will ultimately reward the 
 faithful and conscientious discharge of our duty 
 towards our children. 
 
 Mr. R. gave his son, on his departure from 
 this country, a Bible, and a paper of admonitions 
 and instructions for his conduct. Amidst all his 
 irregularities, Nugent discovered a grateful and 
 
NUGENT SENT TO SEA. 
 
 151 
 
 affectionate temper. His errors were evidently 
 those of a thoughtless and yielding disposition, 
 rather than of a deep-rooted and vicious propen- 
 sity : he sincerely loved his father, and he pre- 
 served, with a kind of religious veneration, these 
 testimonies of regard ; never losing them, though 
 twice shipwrecked, and though all the other 
 little property that he had realized was then 
 swept away. 
 
 He was evidently deeply impressed by his 
 parents’ bright example, and he kept up a regular 
 correspondence with them. Mr. R’s letters 
 are lost ; but some extracts from those of his son 
 will serve strongly to illustrate the good effects 
 of past instructions. It never should be forgotten 
 that there is a moral influence in Christian princi- 
 ples, which keeps evil within certain bounds, 
 even when those principles have not penetrated 
 the heart ; and bad as unconverted persons often 
 appear, amidst all the pains taken with them, 
 they would probably be much worse without the 
 unseen restraint which thus operates within them. 
 
 A lodgment of truth once made in the mind, 
 cannot afterwards be wholly eradicated. Convic- 
 tion often returns, and at last, as in the present 
 instance, produces a saving change of heart 
 and life. Nugent was not long on the mighty 
 deep before he acknowledged the propriety of 
 
152 
 
 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 his removal from home, and he began deeply 
 to repent of the follies which rendered it neces- 
 sary. 
 
 My dear Father and Mother, 
 
 ‘‘ I am now, as it may be said, at the other end 
 of the world, but still I often think of you and 
 Turvey ; I often reflect on my past conduct, and 
 bitterly bewail my folly : if I had not done what 
 I ought not to have done, I might now be resting 
 comfortably under your roof, instead of having to 
 bear very great hardships by night and by day : 
 but I will not complain of my chastisement, and 
 have indeed far greater comforts than I deserve. 
 
 “ Papa, I am far away, but I often think of you, 
 and of my dear mother, to whom I have occasioned 
 bitter sorrows. Alas! I fear my offences can 
 never be forgiven. 
 
 “ I am satisfied you acted wisely in sending me 
 from home, sweet home ! The maxims and rules 
 you gave me, I cherish and keep by me. 
 
 ‘‘ Oh ! how I look back on the hopes and fears, 
 alarms and anxieties of my dear parents ; if God 
 permits me ever to see them again, I hope it will 
 be under different circumstances and feelings. 
 May He preserve me amidst the winds and waves. 
 
 I am still your affectionate son, 
 
 N. R.” 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 153 
 
 There was something so ingenuous and relent- 
 ing in this his first letter, that Mr. R. anticipated 
 the return of his son from the voyage with all that 
 strength of affection which issued from his loving 
 tender heart on all occasions. He longed to 
 embrace the poor wanderer, and mingle his tears 
 with those of his child saying ; This my son was 
 dead and is alive again, was lost and is found:” but 
 these fond hopes were disappointed. Nugent left 
 the vessel in which he sailed, in opposition to the 
 remonstrances of the Captain, to whom he was 
 entrusted with directions to bring him back to 
 England. Mr. R. had only intended to try the 
 effect of absence and employment, in reclaiming 
 his son, and not to fix him for ever in the perilous 
 occupation of a sea-faring life. The Arniston 
 proceeded on her voyage without him, and he had 
 soon reason to regret his own indiscretion (for such 
 it was, though God meant it for good), when he 
 found himself cast on the world without means 
 of livelihood, without friends, or even an acquaint- 
 ance who could advise and serve him : a youth 
 of only seventeen years of age, and separated from 
 all who felt any interest in his welfare. In this 
 desolate and almost hopeless state, he addressed 
 the following letter to the senior chaplain of 
 Ceylon. 
 
154 
 
 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 Reverend Sir, 
 
 ‘‘ There are many occasions in life when it is 
 easier to write than to speak, particularly when 
 we are obliged to speak of ourselves. Your known 
 condescension and kindness encourages me to hope 
 you will pardon my present intrusion. 
 
 ‘‘ It is proper I should acknowledge that my 
 own thoughtlessness and inconsiderate conduct, 
 and a neglect of the instructions of an excellent 
 father, have been the cause of my present mis- 
 fortunes. I ran away from school, and spent my 
 time in dissipation with the young farmers of my 
 neighbourhood ; which gave my poor father great 
 uneasiness and many a miserable hour ; and finding 
 me unwilling to settle to any useful employment, 
 he sent me to sea as a last resource, in hopes 
 that time and reflection, and experience of the 
 world, might change my habits, and lead me to a 
 proper sense of my errors. With the reluctant 
 consent of both my parents, I came out in the 
 Arniston, 'under the charge of Captain Simpson, 
 whose uniform kindness to me I gratefully remem- 
 ber. He refused to give me permission to stay in 
 India, and I withdrew from his ship with a view 
 to profit by the opportunity, and to see Calcutta 
 and other parts and places before I returned to 
 England. In this expectation I have been dis- 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 155 
 
 appointed, and knowing the dislike of my parents 
 to my present occupation, I have abandoned 
 further thoughts of continuing in it, at least till I 
 can learn..their» pleasure as to my future destiny. 
 I humbly- throw myself on your kindness, and 
 intreat you to take me under your protection and 
 guidance ; for which I hope to testify the gratitude 
 of my heart by conducting myself with diligence 
 and propriety. I have the honour to remain, with 
 the greatest respect. 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 N. R.” 
 
 Self-will is a principal source of mischief to 
 young people ; submission and deference to age 
 and experience, a prime virtue to be cultivated 
 by them. To follow his own inclination and leave 
 the Arniston, was a culpable thoughtlessness ; nor 
 can it be justified or excused, though the con- 
 sequences were advantageous. There is, however, 
 much to approve in Nugent’s frank and open 
 avowal of his errors ; he might have concealed 
 them ; a more subtle mind would have been 
 tempted to do so ; but simplicity is always the 
 best policy ; it disarms hostility, and disposes 
 men to overlook the past, by the security which 
 seems to be given of future good conduct ; it 
 relieves the parties from a train of evils and 
 
156 
 
 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 embarrassments, and tem.ptations to new offences, 
 which will meet them at every step. To an 
 honourable mind it is ever painful to appear in 
 false colours : the fear of disclosure and conse- 
 quent loss, perhaps, of our friends, will always fill 
 us with restlessness and apprehension. An offen- 
 der had better trust God with his case, than turn 
 for deliverance to the wretched expedients which 
 his own pride and folly might suggest. This 
 appeal to a stranger, I have been an offending 
 wanderer, and therefore take me under your pro- 
 tection,” may seem to some to be little consistent 
 with prudence ; but Nugent could not have acted 
 more wisely, if his letter had been written under the 
 influence of selfish calculation, instead of having 
 been, as it appears to me, the result of integrity. 
 
 It is also evident, from the two last letters, that 
 Mr. Richmond’s care and instructions were not 
 even now without their use : there was clearly an 
 influence in operation, and a turning to right 
 principles and feelings on the part of Nugent, 
 which, if too weak to stem the torrent of natural 
 corruption, was doing much to controul evil, and 
 prepare his mind for its subjugation. Indeed, the 
 full effect of religious education is seldom seen, 
 until a young person has had an opportunity of 
 making an experiment on the principles which he 
 has been taught : however pleasing the piety of 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 157 
 
 children, it can never be relied on : it must first 
 stand the test of solitary exposure to adverse 
 circumstances. The family is the nursery of ten- 
 der plants, of whose growth and fruit we can 
 determine nothing till they are transplanted into 
 other soils ; but in all cases a conscientious and 
 diligent cultivation of a child’s mind, accompanied 
 by a consistent example, — without which instruc- 
 tion too often injures rather than improves, — will 
 be like the seed sown, which may not appear for 
 a season, but will in the end spring up and reward 
 our labour. 
 
 I have already noticed that Mr. R. constantly 
 corresponded with his son : he did more, — Nugent 
 was in his daily thoughts, and he earnestly and 
 continually carried him to a throne of grace ; and I 
 cannot but ascribe to the faith and prayer of the 
 affectionate parent, the remarkable escape of the 
 child. The Arniston, having sailed without him, 
 was wrecked near Cape Lagullus, with the loss 
 of the whole crew. Three hundred and fifty 
 persons perished, and thus Nugent’s error was 
 overruled by a gracious God to the preservation 
 of his life. Such interpositions of providence may 
 be treated with indifference and contempt by men 
 of the world. Mr. R. bowed the knee, and thank- 
 fully praised God, I have prayed to Thee, O Fa- 
 ther, in secret, and Thou hast rewarded me openly.” 
 
158 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 Soon after Nugent left the Arniston, he 
 obtained the situation of third officer in the brig 
 Kandian. Of this appointment he informed his 
 father, adding, 
 
 “ And now, my dear parents, while you are 
 living quietly at home, I am tossed about the 
 stormy ocean in all weathers, and never knowing 
 that I am safe a moment. I hope Wilberforce 
 will take warning from my sad wanderings, or he 
 will never be happy ; receive my kind love, dear 
 father and mother; the same to my brothers and 
 sisters. I hope God will take care of me, for- 
 give and convert me ; He is the best friend ; do 
 not cease to pray for me, and remember m^e still, 
 for I am 
 
 Your affectionate Son, 
 
 N-. R.” 
 
 From some unknown cause, the letters from 
 England, though sent at regular periods, did not 
 reach their destination ; and Nugent suffered much 
 anxiety at not hearing from his family : he writes. 
 
 Ever dear and affectionate parents. 
 
 “ * * * It is now two years since I left 
 
 England, and I have neither heard from nor of 
 you, except once from a missionary, who told me 
 
LETTERS TO HTS PARENTS. 
 
 159 
 
 he had seen you in Y orkshire a few months after I 
 sailed, and that you were quite well. He is a very 
 good man, and I have been to hear him several 
 
 times. I have also attended Mr. , another 
 
 missionary, and a valuable servant of God ; indeed 
 they all appear to be of one heart and one spirit. 
 
 Would -to God I .were like them ! Mr. has 
 
 been very kind to me ; but he is a bad man, and 
 altogether unfit to be a clergyman. I shall not 
 mention his faults, for it seems ungrateful to dwell 
 on a benefactor’s misconduct, or indeed on the 
 misconduct of any one. I have been greatly 
 distressed at hearing nothing of my poor mother, 
 who has shed so many tears on my account, nor 
 of my dear brothers and sisters, though I have 
 written so many letters to them. 
 
 ‘‘ So the Arniston was lost ! Oh! merciful escape 1 
 
 ‘‘ I am sorry to say, my new captain is a wild, 
 extravagant, and dissipated man, always giving 
 balls and routs on board or on shore. ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Dancing and singing to a late hour is a sad way 
 of spending Saturday night. It shocks me to say, 
 my dear father, I have only been to church about 
 twelve times since I left England ; indeed, sailors 
 scarcely know what church is, except on board 
 men of war, where there is a chaplain ; neverthe- 
 less, if we cannot go to church, we seldom work 
 on a Sunday as on a week-day ; so that I have time 
 
160 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 to read the Bible and pray. You gave me a Bible 
 when I left you, and I have it still, and hope 
 always to have it. O that I knew how to make a 
 right use of it. Be assured, my dear father, I 
 neither dance nor gamble ; although there is much 
 of both here, and I should please more if I did as 
 others ; I thank God I know not how to do either, 
 and I am sure I have no wish to be wise in such 
 things. I have encountered many unpleasant re- 
 marks on this account. Pray for me, pray for your 
 poor Nugent ; think when you are in bed and by 
 your fire-side, I am toiling by day and watching 
 by night, tossed about in gales of wind, scared by 
 storms of thunder, lightning, and rain, ignorant 
 of my fate for a single hour. Oh I a sailor’s life is 
 wicked, miserable, and deplorable ; but this is all 
 the fruit of my sin, and I justly deserve my chas- 
 tisement. Farewell — that you may long live, and 
 my mother, and my sisters, and my brothers, to 
 enjoy every blessing, temporal and eternal, is the 
 ardent wish 
 
 Of your affectionate son. 
 
 N. R.” 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 161 
 
 A few months after, he wrote again to his 
 mother: — 
 
 My dearest and most affectionate Mother. 
 
 I have just heard that the ship Alexander is 
 arrived at Columbo, by which I hope to receive 
 letters from home. I am on the other side of 
 Ceylon, and I fear it may be a fortnight or three 
 weeks before I can get them here, and we expect 
 to sail before that time. I am all uneasiness ; and 
 still more anxious when I think what will be said 
 in them. Sometimes I am pleased, then I am 
 grieved and fear ; uncertain of their contents, still 
 I long to read them. Thanks to an all-merciful 
 God, I have succeeded well in India, especially 
 when I consider I had no friend to guide me ; but 
 my success gives me little satisfaction, while I 
 reflect on the wounded feelings of an affectionate 
 mother. I now, indeed, see and feel my folly ; if I 
 had taken your advice, I should never have suffered 
 so many hardships, but this is not my greatest 
 trial, my sins will all rise up against me in the 
 hour of death and at the day of judgment. Oh ! 
 that. I could feel this consideration as I ought ; 
 my insensibility distresses me. May the Lord 
 help me. • 
 
 ‘‘ Nov. 2. No letter. I am full of uneasiness 
 and anxiety. This is Sunday and the vessel is 
 
 M 
 
162 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 under my command. My superior officers are 
 gone on shore, I- fear for no good, they think very 
 little of worship, .officers or men. 'The -men! are 
 great gamblers. I went among them this evening, 
 and found them at hazard : I threw the dice over- 
 board, though probably my life is in danger for 
 what I have done, for the dice .belonged to a 
 Spaniard, who thinks nothing of using his stiletto : 
 but I- have done what I considered my duty, and 
 I must trust God with the consequences. The 
 Portuguese sailors when provoked are as revenge- 
 ful as the Spaniards the other night I nearly lost 
 my life from a party of them ; there had .been a 
 quarrel between some Portuguese and English 
 sailors ; I was walking alone on shore, when fifteen 
 of the former .came up and asked me to what 
 nation I belonged, and on my replying, To the 
 English,”' they lifted up their cudgels to level me 
 with the ground. I raised my arms to defend- my 
 head, when they discovered my uniform and but- 
 tons, and cried out Don’t strike him,” for they 
 perceived I was not a common sailor, or I cer- 
 tainly should have been killed on the spot. This 
 was another wonderful escape. God is very good 
 to me, and I. long to make a suitable return., to 
 him. 
 
 “Nov. 4. This day my letters are arrived, but 
 they are a series of sorrows to me. When I read 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 163 
 
 the first, how I felt ! I could scarcely hold it in 
 my hand : I sobbed and wept. Oh ! my poor 
 mother, I have occasioned your illness and endan- 
 gered your life.* I do not know how to go on 
 writing ; I cannot put two words comfortably 
 together. I know, my dear mother^ you prayed 
 for me in that trying hour. ....... 
 
 ‘‘Mr. B , who' is returning to Europe, has 
 
 behaved very kindly to me ever since I first knew 
 him, which is now more than a year ; he will tell 
 you all about me. • I am conscious of not being 
 what you would wish me to be, but I hope by 
 God’s grace to be made altogether such as you 
 desire. I know you pray for- me continually, .and 
 I trust that God will change my heart before I 
 die. Farewell, my dear .mother, I shall write 
 whenever opportunity* serves ; do you write con- 
 stantly to me. Remember me most kindly to my 
 father, brothers, and sisters. . That they may 
 long live in the enjoyment of every blessing, is 
 the earnest prayer for them all of 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 • ■ . ’ N.” 
 
 I have ever remarked that ilo. case is hopeless 
 where there is strong affection. • An unimpassioned 
 soul is seldom- touched by any thing beyond 
 the range of its own selfish gratifications, and 
 
 M 2 
 
]G4 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 usually presents a stubborn resistance to conside- 
 rations which affect only or chiefly the welfare of 
 others ; but an* affectionate temper, amidst many 
 sinful wanderings, is still capable of impression. 
 
 The letters of Nugent discover a very feeling and 
 grateful spirit, a sense of obligation, and a self-con- 
 demnation for past misconduct. They display a 
 conflict between duty and ' irregular inclination, 
 and, in some instances, a firmness of principle far 
 above mere nature'. They could not fail to inspire a 
 pleasing hope, that though an enemy had sown tares 
 in the field; the wheat would ultimately overtop 
 them and grow to maturity. Mr. Richmond’s heart 
 was.full of joy, and his faith leaned on the promises 
 of God with firmer dependence; he was encouraged 
 to niore vigorous perseverance in interceding for 
 his much-loved child ; he had carried his sorrows 
 to God, and he now praised him for his faithful- 
 ness in alleviating them.- About this time the fol- 
 lowing letter was received from a missionary at 
 Columbo, which bears an honourable testimony 
 to Nugent’s improved conduct. It will be read 
 with interest by those who can sympathise with a 
 father’s sufferings, or understand the joy which 
 welcomes, a returning penitent. 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 165 
 
 ‘‘ Dear and Reverend Sir, 
 
 ‘‘ I have no doubt you will excuse the liberty 
 a stranger takes, who knows you only by name, 
 in writing to you a few lines, which cannot fail to 
 interest both you and your family. I have a 
 father’s heart, and know well the feelings with 
 which you will receive the information I send you 
 respecting Mr. Nugent Richmond, your once 
 disobedient son. It would be most pleasing to 
 me to say that he is a humble penitent, seeking 
 life and salvation through the boundless merits of a 
 crucified Redeemer ; but though I fear to go thus 
 far, I am warranted to bear testimony to a real 
 change in him in many respects. He is become 
 quite steady in his conduct, and is very attentive 
 to the duties of his profession, and you have not 
 the least cause for anxiety with regard to his 
 temporal welfare ; nor is he by any means careless 
 and unconcerned about the things which make 
 for his eternal peace. He is much more anxious 
 than he used to be for religious society, and often 
 attends our evening meetings. This morning he 
 breakfasted with us, and I endeavoured to supply 
 your place in my poor way, by interrogating him 
 in the most serious manner, respecting the state 
 of his soul ; and when I found him unprepared to 
 answer me in the way I wished, 1 urged his still' 
 
166 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 closer attention to religion, by motives addressed 
 to his hopes and fears. I read to him the fifty- 
 first Psalm, and he listened with deep interest, 
 and seemed to feel every word. I prayed for him 
 in my family worship, and enjoyed a more than 
 usual freedom in spreading his case before the 
 Lord. When we rose from our knees, I believe 
 there were few . dry eyes. On the whole, I 
 think we have reason to hope the best respecting 
 your son ; I advised him to read some passage in 
 the Bible every day, with special application to 
 his own case, and to turn it into prayer for him- 
 self. I have heard many acknowledge, that they 
 have received great benefit from praying in God’s 
 own words. May poor Nugent be another 
 instance. I cannot close this hasty letter, with- 
 out informing you of the good effect of the 
 Dairyman’s Daughter in Ceylon. A person, of 
 whose conversion I do not doubt, and who has 
 joined our little church, ascribes his change of 
 heart to God and you. 
 
 Begging you will read with candour what I 
 have written with difficulty, 
 
 ‘‘ I am, with respectful and affectionate regard, 
 
 Your’s, 
 
 J. C. ” 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 167 
 
 The caution with which this correspondent 
 speaks of conversion, renders his testimony the more 
 valuable ; yet it appears to me very evident, that 
 Nugent was making progress towards a complete 
 surrender of his heart to God, and that his mind 
 was at this time under the influence of real prin- 
 ciple. He might be less acquainted than others 
 with experimental religion, and have much to 
 learn as to the cause of all his wanderings, and 
 the entire corruption of his heart ; defects of this 
 kind he laments himself, and in all his letters 
 describes his case rather as that of one who seeks 
 and longs to be a true convert, than of one who 
 has attained a saving change ; still, in a long 
 series of correspondence before me, I remark in 
 him a gradual, and very real approximation to all 
 that is correct in opinion and conduct ; he never 
 reflects on any one but himself ; he labours to 
 guard his brothers against sin, by the knowledge 
 of its effects and consequences in his own history ; 
 he bears an affectionate testimony to the conscien- 
 tious consistency of his parents ; he wishes for an 
 opportunity to make some suitable returns for 
 their kindness ; he connects every event with the 
 disposition of divine providence ; he secures the 
 respect and countenance of every one by his 
 steady and correct conduct ; he courts the society 
 of good people ; he firmly resists evil, though 
 
168 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 attended with danger to himself, and on all occa- 
 sions expresses himself with so much affection 
 and veneration for true religion, as on the whole 
 satisfies my own mind, that even if he had now 
 been removed from the world, his family would 
 have had no reason to have sorrowed as those 
 without hope. There -is not, however, in these 
 letters such a degree of interest to persons unac- 
 quainted with him, as to warrant their introduction. 
 A sufficient number relating to this period are 
 already before the reader, to shew the value of 
 early instruction under every circumstance. 
 
 The young sailor quitted the Kenyon, which 
 was sold by the government, and went on board 
 the Oracabessa, from which vessel he wrote to 
 his father the following affecting account of the 
 state of slavery at the Mauritius ; — a letter full 
 of correct feeling, and still more satisfactory 
 evidence of right conduct. 
 
 . ‘‘ My dear Father, 
 
 ‘‘We are on the point of sailing for the Mau- 
 ritius. * * I know that you will be pleased 
 
 to hear that I am taking out some Bibles, Tes- 
 taments, and Tracts in different languages, which 
 
 were sent to me by my friend Lieutenant B , 
 
 to distribute and try what good I could do there. 
 How is it there are no missionaries at the Mau- 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 169 
 
 ritius ? an island containing thirty thousand souls ; 
 ten .thousand whites, and twenty thousand men 
 of colour. I can safely assure you there is mo 
 part of the world where the British flag is flying, 
 which is half so ignorant, or in such a dreadful state 
 of darkness : there is, indeed, scarcely any religion 
 at all there ; what there is, is Roman Catholic ; 
 it is true there is an English church, and perhaps 
 from twenty to thirty persons in it once a day, 
 and the clergyman • ^ * but 
 
 the island from one end to the other, exhibits every 
 species of vice, without control or check of any 
 kind. Slavery, as you know, is the cause of every 
 thing that is bad : never were its frightful effects 
 more clearly shown than in this place ; they are 
 far worse than even in our West India plantations. 
 I have been an eye-witness to scenes alto- 
 gether shocking to humanity : the heaviest pun- 
 ishments are inflicted for faults, which in England 
 would receive a trifling fine, or a short imprison- 
 ment. Masters have chopped off the ears of their 
 slaves, and in some instances, have literally 
 starved them to death. Neither is the slave-trade 
 extinct in this part of the world, but is still 
 carried on to a great extent. There may be a 
 stricter watch against the slave vessels, but 
 nevertheless they are loaded every month, and I 
 have known the slaves to have been taken into 
 
170 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 harbour in empty water casks to elude detec- 
 tion. 
 
 Now, my father, take your Atlas and look at 
 the position of Mauritius, Bambour, and Mada- 
 gascar, with the African main. Slaves are to be 
 procured at either of the last places for about 
 thirty dollars a-head. If taken to Bourbon, or 
 the Mauritius, they fetch from three to four 
 hundred dollars. Is not this an irresistible temp- 
 tation to a slave-trader, when he is sure of his 
 price if he can escape the vigilance of the naval 
 officers. If you look at the position of these 
 places, you may judge of the ease of carrying on 
 this traffic, when I tell you that there is only one 
 man of war in the harbour of Port Louis to search 
 vessels which come in ; and not one cruising about 
 this coast, though it is well known that there are 
 five Spanish ships, two Portuguese, and one 
 English, employed in the trade. One of these 
 vessels was lately wrecked there : of the crew, one 
 sailor only was saved, who is now on board our 
 ship ; he has frequently conversed with me; and 
 I am persuaded his information is correct. 
 
 Now can nothing be done to restrain the cruel 
 treatment of these poor creatures? On landing 
 at Port Louis, you would see one of them in irons, 
 and as you advanced, another flogged most 
 unmercifully, without distinction of sex, and in 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 171 
 
 general no clothing allowed ; some kind-hearted 
 masters give a dollar a-year for clothes. There 
 is, I believe, a code of laws, but they are never 
 enforced. I have myself seen slaves unable to 
 stand, from the severity of their punishment ; 
 thirty in a row, on whose backs gashes, not 
 lashes, might be observed ; pieces fairly cut out, 
 and in some instances an eye forced out, and 
 there is no redress : nor are they fed properly. 
 I had forty-five of them working under me, for 
 whom their owner received a dollar a day per 
 head ; they worked from sun-rise to sun-set, and 
 what was their food ? For breakfast a cake, 
 made of a kind of potato, weighing three ounces : 
 for dinner half a pound of boiled rice, with one 
 spoonful of assinge, or an equal quantity of horse- 
 beans ; for supper, the same as at breakfast, with 
 a little water to drink. 
 
 I will tell you an instance which I know to be 
 true, amidst many others which I have heard 
 from men of veracity. A woman flogged her own 
 sister, who was unfortunately her slave also, till 
 she fainted. She then twisted her arms till the 
 poor creature nearly expired. She then let her 
 recover, and singed her flesh with a hot iron ; 
 * * * • * * sufferer never 
 
 complained ; . indeed if she had, it would have 
 been worse for her in the end ; the truth is, there 
 
172 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 is a combination among the people of the whole 
 island to resist the law, and support each other 
 in their acts of oppression. My object in men- 
 tioning these things to you, is that you should 
 first make inquiry to satisfy yourself of the truth 
 of the facts, and then try to get something done 
 for these wretched beings. If such cruelties be 
 passed by with indifference in the harbour, what 
 unobserved abominations may be expected in the 
 interior of the island. 
 
 “ It is said that the climate requires no clothing, 
 but this is false : the nights are very cold, and 
 the season sometimes severe. I have even slept 
 under several blankets, and been cold. How many 
 poor souls have not one ! * * * 
 
 Kindest love to all, and 
 
 Believe me, my dear Father, 
 
 Your affectionate Son, 
 
 N. R.” 
 
 From the Bay of All- Saints, he touches again 
 on this horrid traffic : — “ I have made many 
 observations on the country and people here, and 
 particularly on the Slave-trade ; all of which will 
 confirm what I have already told you respecting 
 it. This port is full of slave ships, and I am 
 lying close to one which has Just landed seven 
 hundred, men, women, and children. What a 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 173 
 
 pity this nation should persist in this infamous 
 traffic ; I admit the slaves are better used than 
 in some other places, but still they are exposed 
 to the caprices and unrestrained passions of 
 corrupt nature. 
 
 I have been distributing tracts and Bibles, 
 which some have rejected with scorn, and others 
 received with thanks. I assure you I have spent 
 more time in this way, than in attending to my 
 worldly interest, and so I ought : for I am in- 
 debted to Him for all my mercies, in whose cause 
 I am so labouring ; and if only one Bible finds 
 its way to the heart, what shall I think of my 
 task in eternity. Wherever I go I will labour 
 faithfully in this good work, to the utmost of my 
 power, and particularly in the Isle of France, 
 for that island is grievously neglected as to all 
 spiritual instruction. 
 
 I have conversed with two Catholic priests, 
 they appear to’ me pious men, though they refuse 
 to sanction the distribution of the scriptures 
 among the laity. I confess I am not able to 
 argue with them.” 
 
 Upon the chief subjects of these letters, we may 
 again remark the happy recollections of his early 
 years. From his excellent father he had imbibed 
 an aversion to an iniquitous traffic, and a sense of 
 its wretched effects on the well-being, both of the 
 
174 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 oppressor, and the oppressed ; from him he had 
 learnt also to value the Holy Scriptures as God’s • 
 best gift to a ruined world, and had received asso- 
 ciations of sentiment and affection which no sub- 
 sequent wanderings of sinful inclination, no expo- 
 sure to the temptations of scenes full of danger, 
 and abounding with iniquity, could ever obliterate. 
 The principles of his education restrained him in 
 his worst moments,- and they obtained a permanent 
 ascendancy with the return of better feelings 
 produced by the salutary correction of his mis- 
 fortunes. In his case, the experiment of a voyage 
 was successful, though it may be doubted whether 
 in general any other result can reasonably be ex- 
 pected from it than a ' confirmation of ‘ a young 
 man’s evil propensities. It seemed good to a wise 
 and gracious God to exercise this misguided, but 
 affectionate* youth, with a succession of disap- 
 pointments, mingled with merciful preservations, 
 and to-train him in the school of adversity- to shew 
 the good effect of a pious father’s instructions, 
 and the rich boon of a father’s blessing and 
 prayers. • * . • . 
 
 His shipwrecks — his losses — and* his severe 
 trial in* the death of an amiable young woman 
 to whom he was engaged in marriage, have been 
 detailed, by another hand ; and I have only to 
 add a few extracts from numerous letters in my 
 
LETTERS. TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 175 
 
 possession, illustrative of his .progress in un- 
 feigned piety. 
 
 “ The happiest day I could see in this world, 
 would be that on which I might mingle. myself 
 once more with you all. Oh ! with what joy 
 should I return to you,- my dear "father,, and my 
 dear ’ mother, to receive your , forgiveness and 
 welcome home again. God only knows whether 
 we shall ever meet on this side eternity ; there 
 seem to be more difficulties and obstacles in my 
 way every year. ’ • 
 
 “ The next happy day would be when the 
 Lord, who has been ever kind and merciful to me, 
 should entirely wean me from this wicked world 
 and its temptations ; then should I be as happy 
 as I wish to be.” . 
 
 “ My Bible, which is every thing, is the- only • 
 means of grace I have ; by reading it, with some 
 other good books, tracts, and sermons, I hope to 
 keep ■ close to the fear of God. 
 
 There- are two clergymen here, .but, alas! 
 
 — I must say no evil, when I can say no good 
 
 of them. • I wish some missio.naries, truly pious 
 
 men, were .sent out to us ; I assure you we have 
 
 great need of spiritual instructors. A good man 
 
 preached in a brig close to us yesterday ; and I 
 *0 
 
 hope next Sunday to hoist the flag of Zion, at 
 our main-mast hekl.” 
 
176 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 “ My dear father, you have now four sons, will 
 you spare me one of them ? it will be a great 
 charge, but not the first of the kind. I have had 
 a youngster three years under my care, and it will 
 be some security to you for my proper conduct, 
 
 when I tell you that Lieuteuant B — = is going 
 
 to put his younger son under my management. 
 He is a pious man, and his confidence in me 
 may serve to shew that I am not altogether 
 undeserving of your’s.” 
 
 ‘‘ I have never kept my birthday but once since 
 I left England. I sat and felt so melancholy 
 instead of being joyful ; and with good reason, when 
 I look back on years that are past.’' 
 
 ‘".We sail for the Mauritius to-morrow, and I 
 have humbly besought the Lord, who has ever been 
 merciful to me, to protect and preserve us all. 
 
 “ Oh, my good father ! no one can conceive the 
 horror of a shipwreck but those who have expe- 
 rienced it. Many, many, heartfelt thanks to that 
 Providence which has again rescued me from a 
 watery grave. I had made a little fortune, and 
 was returning home with presents for my family, 
 and with three beautiful shawls for my dear 
 mother, but all is lost, except one trunk, in which 
 was my Bible and the Dairyman’s Daughter. 
 Thus all my hopes and expectations have been 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 177 
 
 frustrated. Yet I believe these things are for my 
 good. I must begin the world afresh, and I hope 
 to do so in more senses than one. Tell my dear 
 mother not to grieve for my misfortunes, God 
 knows what is best for us.” 
 
 “ While the ship was driving, and it blew a 
 perfect hurricane, I went down to my cabin to 
 pray to the Lord for his assistance and protection in 
 this trying hour. In the midst of prayer, and while 
 the tears were in my eyes, the ship struck on a sand, 
 with a shock which brought many to the ground ; 
 I staggered a little, though on my knees, and my 
 
 little L. B was thrown otf a chest on which he 
 
 lay close to me. Every thing was now confusion. 
 In the mean time I again went below and prayed 
 with heart and soul to Almighty God to save us; — 
 and my prayers were answered, * * for a certain 
 something — a kind of comfortable thought seemed 
 to rest with me and say, ‘ Thy life shall be spared.’ 
 Not all the shocks, seas, or winds could afterwards 
 make me fear or think the contrary. Surely there 
 never was a greater proof than this, that the Lord 
 is always with us. It animated and comforted 
 me, and made me work and exert myself with 
 redoubled vigour, though a great part of the night 
 it rained hard, accompanied with thunder and 
 lightning. 
 
 ‘‘ Oh ! how thankful I ought to be to Almighty 
 
 N 
 
178 OCCURRENCES IN INDIA, WITH 
 
 God for his many mercies repeatedly shewn to me ; 
 — indeed I trust I know that suitable returns are 
 expected from me. * * * When I look back 
 on the last twenty-five years, I am lost in wonder 
 and astonishment. My' dear father, do not forget 
 the eighteenth of July.” 
 
 One thing grieved me in the shipwreck more 
 than all — the loss of some valuable presents for my 
 family ; but this is God’s will ; it is the Lord’s 
 doing, aud all is for the best.” 
 
 ‘‘I am returning home for the re-establishment 
 of my health, which has suffered severely from 
 exposure to hardships by night and day : but the 
 happiness of seeing you all once more will not a 
 little contribute to my restoration. My heart beats, 
 and my head turns giddy at the thought of this 
 meeting ; it will be both a pleasing and a painful 
 one to me.” 
 
 “ Do not expect me before the end of July or 
 the beginning of August. I shall, of course, write 
 to my father on my arrival, that I may not take 
 you by surprise. And oh ! my dear mother, pray 
 for a safe voyage for me, and a happy meeting to 
 us all. • I have had many trials, afflictions, and 
 crosses for the last ten months, but I feel the loss 
 of her to whom I was engaged most of all, perhaps 
 too much. Still in all these things there is one 
 great consolation ; they are sent by him who careth 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 179 
 
 for me. I believe they are all ordered in wisdom’ 
 and mercy, though you and I may not be able to 
 interpret their meaning. If we could see the end, 
 as we shall do by and by, I am quite satisfied we 
 should gratefully acknowledge that they were 
 intended for good, and this comfortable assurance, 
 through him who loved us better than we love 
 ourselves, will, I trust, be my support, and inspire 
 me with cheerful resignation and renewed confi- 
 dence in God. I have many thoughts about 
 eternity ; though, alas ! the wicked one strives to 
 banish them from my mind. 
 
 “ Your truly valuable letters, my dear mother, 
 discover so much affection and kindness towards 
 me, that I know not how to express my joy and 
 thankfulness ; they often draw tears from my eyes, 
 and are the dearer to me the more I read them. 
 I have a great deal to say, to propose, and to 
 request, and hardly know whether to begin now, 
 or wait till I have the joy of seeing my dearest 
 parents. What a meeting will this be !• I seem to 
 dread it, though it would be a grief inexpressible 
 were it not to take place. ^ ^ ^ ^ Pray 
 
 for an unfortunate wanderer, and may God answer 
 your prayers to my present and eternal good.” 
 
 The expected return of Nugent was an event 
 which warmed every heart in Turvey Rectory 
 
 N 2 
 
180 
 
 HIS DEATH. 
 
 with the most anxious and affectionate sympathy. 
 The whole family was eager, either to welcome a 
 relative whom they scarcely knew but by report, 
 or to renew an affection which time and distance 
 had not effaced, but rather. strengthened. 
 
 Mrs. Richmond fitted up, partly with her own 
 hand, a room for her son’s reception, and arranged 
 every thing to testify her regard for her returning 
 child, and banish every painful recollection from 
 his mind; but -after the lapse of a few months, 
 his death, instead of his arrival, was announced. 
 
 His constitution had been greatly impaired by 
 unhealthy climates, and the successions of hard- 
 ships to which he had been exposed, until both 
 his health and spirits finally sunk under the last 
 
 and greatest trial, the death of Miss . After 
 
 this event he resolved on returning immediately 
 to England. 
 
 Previous to the voyage he had an attack of fever,' 
 and embarked in very weak health. The ship met 
 with a heavy gale, which induced him to exert 
 himself beyond his strength ; he had a relapse 
 of fever, became very ill, and was occasionally 
 delirious. Immediate danger was not apprehended, 
 but one night he went to bed about twelve o’clock, 
 and was found dead in his cabin the next morning, 
 to the surprise and grief of all on board, by whom 
 he was universally beloved and respected. 
 
HIS DEATH. 
 
 181 
 
 Alone in the hour of his departure from sin and 
 sorrow ; yet not alone, for his God, and the God 
 of his fathei' was with him, and gave him rest 
 from the days of adversity.^ 
 
 An ivory box containing a few jewels and gold 
 chains, which he had intended as presents for his 
 brothers and sisters, was discovered in his pocket 
 after his decease. On the inside of the cover, the 
 following lines were written in his own hand in 
 pencil, apparently a short time before his death.’ 
 
 Where vice has held his empire long, 
 
 'Twill not endure the least control : 
 
 None but a power divinely strong, 
 
 Can turn the current of the soul. 
 
 Great God, I own thy power divine. 
 
 That works to change this heart of mine ; 
 
 1 1 would be formed anew, and bless 
 The wonders of redeeming grace. 
 
 While little was known of his dying moments, 
 the most satisfactory accounts of his living hours 
 were received by Mr. Richmond from many 
 
 > The chief part of his property was lost with the Oracabessa, 
 but he left out of the scanty store reserved from three shipwrecks, 
 a hundred rupees to general charitable purposes ; £50. to the 
 Bible Society, £50. to the Church Missionary Society, £50. to the 
 Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, and £50. to the 
 Religious Tract Society. The selection of these charitable insti- 
 tutions was probably designed to express afi’ection and respect 
 for his father's preferences, as well as regard on his own part for 
 the truths of religion. 
 
182 
 
 HIS DEATH. 
 
 persons who for some years had observed Nugent’s 
 exemplary conduct. 
 
 A melancholy feeling steals over the spirits, as 
 we follow this first-born son of an excellent man 
 through each succeeding calamity of his life, to a 
 solitary death. 
 
 We must adore in silence, confidently resting on 
 the wisdom and goodness of Him whom clouds 
 and darkness surround, while righteousness and 
 truth are the habitations of his seat.” 
 
 The history before us exhibits in the clearest 
 light, (and this is my chief purpose in writing it) 
 the inestimable blessing of a pious parent, and the 
 value of a religious education under all possible 
 contingencies. ‘‘In the morning sow thy seed, 
 and in the evening withhold not thine hand, for 
 thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either 
 this or that, or whether they both shall be alike 
 good.” (Eccles. xi. 6.) 
 
CHILDHOOD OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 183 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 “ And therefore wert thou bred to virtuous knowledge, 
 And wisdom early planted in thy soul.’^ 
 
 Rowe. 
 
 WiLBERFORCE WRS the second son of his father, 
 and was born in Turvey Rectory, Aug. 20, 1807. 
 
 Mr. R. intended to have added another tract 
 to the annals of pious young people. He had 
 prepared materials for this purpose, and even 
 chosen that title for his narrative, which I hav^ 
 adopted for the present tribute of affection to his 
 memory. ' It is deeply to be regretted, that he 
 did not live to execute his design. His talent for 
 religious biography was peculiar, perhaps un- 
 equalled. He drew his sketches from real life, 
 with a scrupulous attention to truth, and never 
 failed to touch the heart. But such was the 
 poignancy of his feelings in the recollection of past 
 scenes, that he was often compelled to lay aside 
 the attempt, and wait for a season of greater com- 
 posure. Meanwhile his own increasing infirmities. 
 
184 
 
 WILBERFORCe’s' CHILDHOOD. 
 
 and his final removal from earthly scenes and 
 earthly sorrows, deprived the Christian world of a 
 most instructive memoir, which, though complete 
 in the outline, and comprising all he meant to 
 say of his son from the cradle to the grave, is 
 so imperfect in its detail, that no further use can 
 be made of his materials, than to guide me in 
 my feeble delineation of the character of this 
 interesting boy. 
 
 Soon after his birth he was received into the 
 Christian church by the rite of baptism, when his 
 father called him Wilberforce, connecting with 
 that name the most important event in his own 
 life, his conversion to God by the perusal of the 
 ‘‘ Practical View of Christianity.” ^ 
 
 While an infant, he was taken by his parents on 
 
 a visit to . Certain associations impart an 
 
 interest to circumstances apparently trivial, while 
 they are fondly regarded as presages of future 
 eminence, and often stimulate to the diligent 
 employment of means for its attainment. Of this 
 character is the following anecdote. 
 
 “ I cannot forget a circumstance which occurred 
 in his infancy ; his mother and myself were on a 
 visit at a friend’s house. A large family were 
 assembled at morning prayers, and amongst them 
 
 * See Memoir of Mr. Richmond, p. 26 . 
 
wilberforce’s childhood. 185 
 
 was our little boy in his nurse’s arms. An aged 
 and venerable minister was conducting the family 
 worship. In the midst of his prayer, the child 
 began to cry. The good man paused, and beck- 
 oned the servant to give him the infant. He took 
 him in his arms, and held him for several minutes, 
 during which he offered up most affecting peti- 
 tions on his behalf, praying earnestly, and in a 
 manner that touched all our hearts, that it might 
 please God to bless him for time and eternity ; 
 that if his life were spared, he might be a blessing 
 to his parents and the church of God, and finally 
 have an inheritance with the saints in light. He 
 then returned the child, now pacified, to the nurse’s 
 arms, and resumed the general subject of his 
 prayer, which had been thus interrupted. There 
 was an affecting singularity in the transaction, 
 which much interested us at the time, and now 
 that I am engaged in the retrospective view of 
 what passed from the cradle to the grave of my 
 beloved son, it recurs to my recollection with 
 peculiar emotions of heart. The venerable man 
 of God is long since gone to his rest, but his 
 prayer was recorded in heaven, and the Lord in 
 mercy has given it a gracious answer.” 
 
 When little more than two years old he fell 
 from a window, on the pavement, and though he 
 recovered from the accident, he was lame ever 
 
186 
 
 wilberforce’s pursuits. 
 
 afterwards, and the natural delicacy of his con- 
 stitution was probably increased by the injury he 
 received at that time. This circumstance would 
 scarcely have deserved a serious mention, if it did 
 not seem to be a link in the chain of events 
 which contributed towards the formation of his 
 character, by rendering him unfit for boyish sports, 
 and compelling him to seek amusement in higher 
 occupations.^ 
 
 His resource was the Museum, and the experi- 
 ments made by his father’s philosophical apparatus. 
 In these he took a principal share, and resorted to 
 them when his other studies did not require his 
 attention. Electricity, pneumatics, mineralogy, 
 chemistry, and music, in which he was no mean 
 proficient, occupied his leisure hours. He delighted 
 in science of every kind, but especially in the 
 mathematics. The indubitable verity of a demon- 
 stration suited his turn of mind, and had God 
 spared his life, he would probably have distin- 
 guished himself at the university. Such was the 
 opinion of his tutor, who, in a letter of condolence 
 to his father after his death, speaks of him as a 
 boy of no common intelligence and attainment. 
 
 • To treat little things with contempt is no mark of superior 
 intelligence. Their potency is acknowledged by all thoughtful 
 observers of the course of events, whether in the sparrow that falls, 
 or the single hair which is numbered. 
 
WILBERFORCES PURSUITS. 
 
 187 
 
 “ I marked the superior endowments of his 
 mind in the first hours of our intercourse, and was 
 confirmed in my opinion by each succeeding year. 
 He caught an idea quickly, never seemed to forget 
 it, for his memory was remarkably strong and 
 retentive, and he made more rapid and solid 
 attainments than any other boy placed under my 
 care. At a very early period he read Euclid, and 
 surprised me with his acute and sensible obser- 
 vations on the character of pure mathematics. 
 He appeared delighted to master a difficult pro- 
 blem, and before he was twelve years of age, had 
 exceeded the advance of many men of two years’ 
 standing at the University. 
 
 I observed an equal neatness and success in 
 his classical exercises and translations. But I 
 was still more astonished at his discrimination 
 and knowledge of character. This must have 
 arisen from his seeking the conversation of his 
 superiors. He had a thinking mind, and a habit 
 of going to the bottom of a subject. He was not 
 without his prejudices, and sometimes expressed 
 a contempt for authority, and assumed an air of 
 confidence in his opinion, which needed checking, 
 though I never found him obstinate or averse to 
 re-consider his own decisions, and but seldom in 
 any material error. 
 
 “ He had a playful temper, and with great good 
 
188 
 
 LETTER TO 
 
 humour would join his brothers in a gambol ; but 
 when alone, he was more like a little man than a 
 child, — he was, in short, an amusing and rational 
 companion.” 
 
 The writer of the above extract left Turvey 
 when his pupil was about twelve years of age. 
 Wilberforce expressed great regret at his removal, 
 and addressed his tutor in a letter equally credit- 
 able to both parties. I lay it before the reader, 
 to shew the affectionate and grateful temper of the 
 one, and to bear an honourable testimony to 
 the conscientious and valuable services of the 
 other. 
 
 ‘‘ My dear Sir, 
 
 “ I hope you will not suppose that I am insen- 
 sible to the value of your kind and affectionate 
 care of me. I know nothing wounds more deeply 
 than neglect and ingratitude, and I hope I have 
 never, amidst many other errors, fallen into this 
 offence. If I have appeared ungrateful, I sincerely 
 ask pardon. I fear I have often behaved disre- 
 spectfully, and “ done many things which I ought 
 not to have done.” But I assure you, I never 
 gave offence without pain to myself, and the 
 reproof of my own conscience, and a resolution to 
 amend. I am certain all these things will be 
 
HIS FATHER. 
 
 189 
 
 forgotten, but I thought I might not have a better 
 opportunity of telling you how deeply I regret 
 them. I shall ever entertain the liveliest emotions 
 of gratitude for the care and pains you have taken 
 in the superintending and directing my studies, 
 and though distance may separate us, I trust love 
 will unite us. I am persuaded you will never 
 forget me, and I beg you will receive this book as 
 a tribute of alfection, and a memorial of lasting 
 friendship. My obligations to you are many, and 
 I wish you to possess something as a token of my 
 sense of them. Perchance, when you take up 
 the volume, you will recur to former scenes and 
 associations, and think of Purvey — “ sed tempora 
 mutantur.” I hope my letter will not displease 
 you : if I have not the pen of a ready writer, I can 
 safely say, I am sincere in all I have said. Be 
 assured of this, that however far distant you may 
 be, or whatever clime you may dwell in — long 
 indeed must the time be before I can forget so 
 good a master as you have been to me. I cannot 
 bid you farewell, until I have wished you health 
 and happiness wherever you may be. I shall 
 highly value and prize your correspondence. 
 
 Ever your’s, gratefully and affectionately, 
 
 WiLBERFORCE.” 
 
190 
 
 VISIT TO LONDON. 
 
 ' I perceive by Mr. R’s memoranda, that he 
 took his little boy on a visit to London, with a 
 view to amuse and instruct him by the curiosities 
 of that magnificent metropolis. 
 
 I have no doubt the conversation with his 
 child on this occasion was intended for insertion, 
 and would probably have afforded an illustration 
 of his own constant aim at improvement, no less 
 than the character and progress of his companion. 
 A letter to Wilberforce on a subsequent visit to 
 town by himself, may in a small degree supply 
 the defect. 
 
 ‘"My dear Master Wilberforce. 
 
 “ As you asked me to describe to you some 
 of the sights which have met my eye in this 
 sightly and sightful city, I will obey you. 
 
 “ I. The Hobby, or Accelerator, or Adjutor. 
 The neatness of its motions, the swiftness of its 
 speed, the elegance of its management, and the 
 simplicity of its construction, are very remarkable. 
 I have not had a quiet opportunity of trying it, 
 nor do I think the lame can manage it so well as 
 others. On Tuesday next, a new one for ladies 
 only is to be exhibited. All the town is wild this 
 year after hobbies,^ as they were last year for 
 kaleidoscopes. Old men and children, young men 
 and maidens will soon be whirling and twirling 
 
EXHIBITIONS. 
 
 191 
 
 like Tetotums. Twelve places of exhibition already 
 exist. I have been much amused with the sight. 
 
 ‘‘II. The Automaton Chess Player. Nothing 
 ever surprised or perplexed me so much as this. 
 It is a masterpiece of mechanical invention, and 
 how it acts, is as yet past discovery. It has 
 been shown throughout Europe, but no one has 
 approached to detection. It had so singular an 
 effect on my nerves, that I wished for permission 
 to give one immense laugh, and another immense 
 cry, in order to give vent to my exuberant spirits. 
 The whole company sat in motionless wonder 
 for an hour, during which, one of them played 
 against the Automaton Turk, and was beaten, 
 though a first-rate player, which vexed him not 
 a little, and he pinched his nose, and bit his 
 fingers with vexation. Our silence was then 
 broken by a man of wood, dressed as a trumpeter, 
 and who • played like a trumpeter, and full well 
 he trumpeted, for he accompanied with’ great 
 precision his master and maker, who played a 
 piece on the Piano Forte . 
 
 “ III. The Gothic Hall of ancient armoury. 
 This is very magnificent — cost three thousand 
 pounds, and alas ! is going to be sold by auction 
 like Bullock’s museum, part of the dissolution 
 of which I have witnessed in the auction room. 
 I saw an antique piece of sculpture put up : one 
 
192 
 
 MR. Richmond’s letters to 
 
 pound, said a gentleman ; two, said another ; 
 three — four — five — one hundred, said the next; 
 two hundred and fifty, said an old lady ; five 
 hundred, said another — and down it went. 
 
 ‘‘IV. The Sostenente Piano Forte. Lovely, 
 sweet, chaste, bewitching tones. Very handsome 
 in appearance — ^price from one hundred and ten, 
 to three hundred guineas. 
 
 “ V. Doctor Thornton’s lecture on the human 
 frame. A fresh subject discussed every time. 
 About thirty ladies and forty gentlemen present ; 
 very useful and instructive. Fine transparent 
 paintings of the different parts of the system 
 illustrated ; a grand collection of human bones, 
 and of all kinds of animals ; he exhibited the 
 laughing gas, and it made us all laugh wonder- 
 fully; none could conceive the effect without 
 seeing it ; several of the company tried and ex- 
 hibited the experiment. He produced, by another 
 gas, a globe of fire, quite, indeed, quite as bright 
 
 as the sun at noon-day. He also made, as H 
 
 would say, ‘ an enormous bang,’ with soap-suds 
 and hydrogen-gas. The ladies screamed with 
 fright, but no harm was done, and the laughing 
 gas banished all alarms. 
 
 “VI. The Panorama of Spitzbergen, novel and 
 satisfactory. Icebergs, ice-mountains, snow, seas, 
 ships, seals, sea-horses, laruses, white-bears. 
 
WILBERFORCE IN HIS CHILDHOOD. 
 
 193 
 
 arctic-dogs, &c. in abundance ; skies -terrific — 
 the whole admirably executed, and affording a 
 complete lecture on . the natural history of the 
 Polar districts. 
 
 • VIL T.he Dandies. -Very numerous’ aiid 
 vastly abominable. I’ will . not describe them, 
 for verily my soul loatheth them. The dan- 
 dizettes, the more sightly objects of the two ; but 
 alas ! vanity of vanities, all is vanity ! ’ • 
 
 “ VI I L The Southwark bridge, which you and 
 I saw casting at Rotherham. It ’ strides most 
 nobly across the Thames, and is a grand ornament 
 to the river. 
 
 IX. The Persian Ambassador. A fine figure 
 in full costume, and quite answers one’s^ idea 
 of an oriental Mahometan Grandee. 
 
 X. The fair Circassian. As nobody sees her, 
 of course I do not, so I cannot describe her. • 
 
 '“I have gone through my arduous day, and 
 have been gratified by a long, and interesting 
 
 conversation with W . I have received 
 
 no letters from home, and have therefore nC 
 answer to send. 
 
 With great love to you all, . 
 
 Your affectionate Father, ’ 
 
 ‘ L. R. ’. 
 
 This playful and amusing journal of London 
 
 o 
 
194 
 
 MR. RICHMONDS LETTERS TO 
 
 curiosities; contains’ no allusipn to the subject' 
 which lay. nearest to’ his hearti .-But. Mr. Rich- 
 innnd seldom , wrote on . any ./occasion to' his 
 children without reminding them of some religious 
 truth, or:connecting whatever was curious, in art, 
 or beautiful and grand. in* nature, with a remark 
 calculated to- inspire in their ihinds sentiments 
 of solid and scriptural pie.ty. The' following let- 
 ters to- Wilberforce are fair specimens of his usual 
 manner. The first of these was written when he 
 was yet a little boy. * 
 
 . - ‘‘Dearest little boy, 
 
 “ As I was journeying near York last Saturday,' 
 where should I suddenly find myself but in a 
 little village called Wilberforce, as my driver, and 
 the way-post informed me. ‘ Dear me,’ said I to 
 my fellow-traveller, ’ ‘ how a certain little ' lad of 
 my acquaintance, would be surprised and pleased, 
 had he been in the chaise this moment.’ So I 
 got out and walked up* and down in Wilberforce, 
 thinking and talking about that said little lad. 
 It is a pretty little place. As I loved the name, 
 both for ybuf sake, and for the sake of Henrietta’s 
 godfather ; I amused’ myself with asking different 
 people the name of the ’ place, and every body’s 
 answer was the same. I asked an old man, 
 
 ‘ What is this village called?’ Wilberforce, an’ 
 
WILBERFORCE IN HIS CHILDHOOD. 195 
 
 please your reverence,’ said he, and so said all 
 the rest ; and thus I pleased myself with making 
 • a great many people speak your name, till one 
 of them said, ‘ I canna think wots the matter wi’ 
 the .mon ; he made . us aw say • the •’ same .thing. 
 Mayhop the. men’s a foo.’ Now all that was .the 
 matter with me, was that I loved you, and it q.uite 
 pleased me to hear your name when I so little 
 expected it. . * 
 
 ‘‘ On Thursday last 1 saw a gentleman and a 
 lady mount up in ,a balloon, a mile high into the 
 air, and after sailing there near an hour, they came 
 down again quite, safe. On Saturday I went to 
 see the finest church in all England. It is more 
 beautiful than all the churches I ever saw put 
 together. To-day I have visited the wonderful 
 dropping well of Knaresborough, which ‘petrifies, 
 after a time*, whatever it touches. To-morrow . I 
 am going to see one of the fines_t riiins in the king- 
 dom, Fountain’s Abbey. Look at your map, it is 
 near Ripon in Yorkshire. This day I received a 
 most beautiful *' letter from the Russian Princess 
 Sophia Meteskersky of St. Petersburgh. I think 
 I never had' so- pretty a- letter. ' What makes it so 
 pretty ? It is because it is about Jesus Christ. 
 Nothing is good or right or pretty without him. 
 He only is altogether lovely, 
 
 “ I hope both* your leg and your lessons go on 
 
196 
 
 MR. Richmond’s letters to 
 
 well. . If they do, you must thank Mr. C for 
 
 the one and Mr. G. (to whom give my love) for 
 the other, and God for both. # * * 
 
 Last night, at ten o’clock, I saw the Aurora Bore- 
 alis, like a white rainbow stretching all over the 
 sky. On Monday I went to see the iron founders 
 make cannon.' They melted •' the iron in a- huge 
 hot furnace, it ran out along the ground like a 
 little river of liquid fire — very terrific ! 
 
 “ I have picked up many curious stones for the 
 museum. God bless you, my little boy, and God 
 bless Henry. Tell him I love him, and I hope he 
 loves me." Kiss all your brothers and sisters for me, 
 and tell them all to be very good. Behave well 
 
 to dear mamma, and Mr. G , and so good bye 
 
 From your loving papa, 
 
 L. Richmond.” 
 
 The following letter is of later date. 
 
 London, 
 
 “ * * * Your dear mamma 
 
 has evidently improved in health by her visit to 
 town, which I therefore feel it right to lengthen, 
 that by freedom for a time from domestic labours 
 and hourly anxieties, she may, if God pleases, be 
 the better enabled to continue her numerous 
 attentions to you and her other children at home. 
 You know her great value to us ‘all, and the day 
 
. WILBERFORCE IN HIS CHILDHOOD. 197 
 
 to which you allude will stand as a lasting memo- 
 rial to us of the loving-kindness of God. 
 
 “ On Tuesday last I went to Carlton Palace, with 
 four hundred graduates of the University of Cam- 
 bridge, to present an address of congratulation to 
 the Prince Regent on the marriage of his daughter. 
 It was a fine sight, and the splendour of the rooms 
 surprized me. We walked through St. James’s 
 street and Pall Mall, two and two, in very long 
 procession, all dressed in the various university 
 robes. The Duke of Gloucester, one Archbishop 
 and nine Bishops went first, all the rest in scarlet, 
 blue and gold, blue and . silver, black and gold, 
 black gowns, &c. An immense collection of car- 
 riages and people on foot filled the streets to see 
 the procession, which occupied three quarters of 
 the length of Pall Mall. We passed through seven 
 grand and princely chambers, till at length we 
 reached the last, in which the Regent, seated on 
 his throne, received us. The Duke of Gloucester 
 delivered the address, to which the Prince made 
 a handsome reply. We all successively made our 
 obeisances, and after remaining a short time to 
 inspect the beauty and grandeur of the different 
 state apartments, we returned, as we came, to a 
 cold collation provided for the members of the 
 university. The Prince was surrounded by all the 
 great officers of state, and the whole effect was 
 
198 
 
 MR. RICHMOND S LETTERS TO 
 
 imposing and superb. But fine and entertaining as 
 was this scene of earthly grandeur, what is a pa- 
 lace compared to a cottage, if the grace of God is 
 in one and not in the other ? Earthly greatness is 
 but dust, and will return to dust. Grace alone will 
 outlive it and then what a palace will heaven be 
 to those who are made kings’ and priests for ever! 
 
 I have been to see the great panorama of 
 Waterloo. It is finely painted, but a very ter- 
 rible exhibition. I think nothing on earth so 
 dreadful as the murder, fury, confusion, pain, and 
 suffering of a battle. Even the picture fills me 
 \yith sadness and horror. 
 
 . I have also seen a panorama of Jerusalem, very 
 inferior as a painting, but very interesting to my 
 mind, as pourtraying the place where Jesus 
 Christ taught, and sometimes lived in the days of 
 his flesh. I stood upon the Mount of Olives, and 
 looked around me on Mount Zion, Gethsemane, 
 Calvary, Bethany, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the 
 brook Kedron, the pool of Bethesda, the Wilder- 
 ness, &c. &c. The ideas which arose in my mind 
 affected me deeply. I was moved to tenderness and 
 tears, as I looked back in thought upon years that 
 are past, and events with which is associated all 
 that is most dear to the Christian. • And would they 
 not, my dear boy, have touched your heart ? 
 
 I am requested to preach an electrical sermon ; 
 
WILBERFORCE IN HIS CHILDHOOD. 199 
 
 that is, . a sermon in behalf of a charitable institu- 
 tion, called the electrical dispensary, for adminis- 
 tering medical electricity to the poor.-. Some of 
 the patients appear to be in a very wretched 
 condition. Out of 7800 persons, 3000 have been 
 cured, 4000 greatly benefitted, and 800 dis- 
 charged without receiving any advantage from 
 this kind- of treatment. I have been thinking 
 that this will be a very suitable text, ‘‘ GOD is 
 Light.,” Our greatest gratification has been 
 derived from attending the public meetings of the 
 religious and benevolent institutions. One, and 
 sometimes two are held in a day. It is an 
 unspeakable delight to see with our eyes, and 
 hear with our ears, what God is so manifestly and 
 so mercifully bringing to pass, by the exertions 
 of so many valuable societies. 
 
 Tell G to take care that all the usual and 
 
 necessary preparations be made for the club 
 anniversary on Whit Friday. We hope to be in 
 our places that day. ‘ Et jam • vale, charissime 
 puer ; memor esto Dei omnipresentis, et patris 
 nunc absentis et matris tuse tenerrimse pretiosis- 
 simee, delectissimae* Te ipsum . cum fratribus 
 sororibusque in votis habemus. Ora pro nobis, 
 ora. Iterum iterumque vale. 
 
 Your affectionate Father, 
 
 L. Richmond.” 
 
200 
 
 EARLY CHARACTER 
 
 ' Wilberforce inherited his father s taste for the 
 beauties of nature. In Mr. R’s memoranda I find 
 a list of more than thirty places of natural magni- 
 ficence which he visited with his son, and refe- 
 rence made to conversations and mutual delight, 
 in a survey of the works of God. I regret that 
 my guide has only left me these traces of his foot- 
 steps in the following notes. 
 
 His first visit to Matlock at four years old, 
 his ecstacy, and remarks, even then, on natural 
 scenery. 
 
 ‘‘ Visited See. &c. &c. ; his admiration and 
 delight while he stood lost in thought, and mused 
 over this exquisite scenery. 
 
 “ Minerals of the Bible — his acquaintance 
 with their character — his affectionate disposition — 
 his conduct and feelings on the report of Nugent’s 
 death.” 
 
 In the same paper he notes. 
 
 His strict and honourable conduct — exempt 
 from many of the vices common to his age — his 
 confidential faithfulness — disposition to fastidious- 
 ness — mourned over in his last illness,” &c. 
 
 The following letter to a companion is the only 
 one of this character I shall offer the reader. It 
 will appear how completely Mr. R. had succeeded 
 in transfusing his own spirit and principle into the 
 mind of his beloved Wilberforce. 
 
AND LETTERS. 
 
 201 
 
 ‘‘ Dear , 
 
 I know nothing which I remember with more 
 pleasure than the hours we have spent together in 
 domestic music.' I shall never regret the time I 
 have given to music, when I consider its tendency 
 to attach us to our delightful homes. We have 
 indeed passed many happy hours together, none 
 happier than those under your own roof. * * * 
 
 I have been delighted with the scenery of Scot- 
 land. I have never seen any thing which has given 
 me. such an idea of the wisdom and power of the 
 Creator. I do indeed admire the rugged grandeur 
 of the mountains, and the wild beauty of the 
 heath, but I still admire our own fertile plains ; * 
 
 * * # country can 
 
 be so pleasant to us as that to which we have been 
 endeared from our earliest infancy. Most anxiously, 
 then, do I wish once more to enjoy with you the 
 sight of our native village, with the river wander- 
 ing peacefully through the green meadows, and to 
 revisit the scenes of our boyish recollections. * 
 
 * ^ I was greatly pleased with my 
 
 visit to London. The greatest treat was the 
 British Museum. The minerals are so exquisite, 
 so beyond conception beautiful and interesting. 
 There is a very fine Museum in Glasgow, and 
 some beautiful specimens of minerals in it. It 
 has just received the addition of a live rattle-snake. 
 
202 
 
 EARLY CHARACTER 
 
 which uses its tail in tremendous style, and when 
 disturbed is ready to revenge an affront. * * * 
 
 I shall probably astonish the Scotchmen soon with 
 the peculiarity and beauty of my visage, for the 
 hairdresser (" who cuts and curls my hair in the 
 last Parisian fashion’) assures me that in a very 
 short time, I must have my head shaved, and ex- 
 change a few straggling locks for a wig. My pate • 
 wiiriook like a lump of coxcomb iron pyrites.” 
 
 I would not weary my reader by dwelling, on 
 the early character of Wilberforce, or detain him 
 from details of higher interest ; the particulars I 
 have mentioned serve to show, that true’ piety is 
 perfectly compatible with all that is innocent and 
 rational in our pursuits and recreations : that it 
 cannot fairly be ascribed to mere dulness or morbid 
 sensibility, and that it is not necessary to denounce, 
 a devout and heavenly spirit, in order to establish 
 a claim to superiority of sense or refinement. 
 
 I will now pursue the memoir into narrations 
 more immediately connected with my 'purpose ; 
 the illustration of Mr. R’s peculiar method in the 
 religious education of his children, and the success 
 which attended his unremitted and conscientious 
 discharge of the duties of a Christian parent. 
 
 When Wilberforce was a little child, his father, 
 aware of the vast importance of early associa- 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 203 
 
 tions, accustomed him to habits of religion, even 
 before he had a capacity to understand or value 
 them. He consecrated to’ God his whole family 
 in daily prayers ; the infant in arms was present 
 as a worshipper, it might at first disturb the order 
 of the family devotion, but it soon learned silence, 
 and seemed pleased with the group before it. So 
 long as it could ' not speak he spoke for it ; he 
 would hold it in his arms, saying, “ God be gra- 
 cious to thee, my son.’’ When Wilberforce could 
 scarcely lisp in accents of prayer or praise, Mr. 
 R. composed the following little piece to be com- 
 mitted to memory, and repeated to his mamma 
 every evening. In these simple lines nothing 
 more was aimed at than a suitable vehicle of in- 
 struction to an infant mind. It breathes the same 
 devout, tender, and affectionate spirit which per- 
 vades Mr. R’s other productions. 
 
 WILBERFORCE’S EVENING-ADDRESS TO MAMMA. 
 
 Mamma, 'tis Jesus loves my soul, 
 
 And makes the wounded sinner whole ; 
 
 My nature is by sin defiled, 
 
 Yet Jesus loves a little child. 
 
 I know my temper is not right, 
 
 I’m often fretful, scold, and fight, 
 
 I would like him be meek and mild. 
 
 For Jesus loves a little child. 
 
204 
 
 LINES ON 
 
 How kind is Jesus, oh ! how good ! 
 
 For my poor soul, he shed his blood ; 
 
 For children's sake, he was reviled, 
 
 Yet Jesus loves a little child. 
 
 When I offend you by my tongue, 
 
 And say and do whaFs very wrong, 
 
 Oh ! pray mamma, be reconciled, 
 
 For Jesus loves your little child. 
 
 He teaches me to shed a tear. 
 
 Whene’er I grieve a friend so dear ; 
 
 But though T am so thoughtless, wild. 
 
 Yet Jesus loves the little child. 
 
 To me may Jesus now impart 
 Although so young, a gracious heart ; 
 
 Alas ! Fm oft by sin defiled. 
 
 Yet Jesus loves the little child. 
 
 And I love Him, for he loves me. 
 
 And hope his faithful child to be ; 
 
 The Sinner’s Friend he’s justly styled, 
 
 And Jesus loves your little child.” 
 
 The following letter to his little boy on 
 birth-day, is of the same character. 
 
 “ It was early this morn, as I waked from my rest. 
 
 An unusual emotion sprung up in my breast. 
 
 The occasion of this, do you wish to be told? 
 
 ’Tis my little boy’s birth-day ^ — he’s just four years old. 
 
 Foolish father ! cries one, is this all you can say. 
 
 Is this to disturb all your feelings to-day ? 
 
 Yes — and were you a father, you would not feel cold, 
 On your little boy’s birth-day, when just four years old 
 
WILBERFORCE S BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 205 
 
 Old maidens and bacli’Iors who no children have, 
 Your patience I ask, for your pardon I crave. 
 
 While this child to my heart I so warmly enfold. 
 
 On the little boy^s birth-day, who’s just four years old. 
 
 •Ye mothers, who clasp your dear babes in your arms. 
 And watch o’er their youth with a thousand alarms, 
 Set yours down for one instant, my child to behold, 
 ’Tis the little boy’s birth-day, he’s just four years old. 
 
 Ye that doat on your own lads can feel for another’s. 
 And bear with the fondness of fathers and mothers, 
 
 I invite your attendance, so deem it not bold, — 
 
 ’Tis the little boy’s birth-day, he’s just four years old. 
 
 He can prattle and talk, with a sweet little smile. 
 Which my heaviest moments will often beguile ; 
 
 So I value him more than ten millions twice told : 
 
 ’Tis my little boy’s birth-day, he’s just four years old. 
 
 Dear wife, on whose breast the dear babe hung so long. 
 Shall my muse on this day, forget thee in her song ; 
 
 Come and kiss the poor lad, and rejoice to be told 
 ’Tis your little boy’s birth-day-^he’s just four years old. 
 
 My sweet boy ! I’ve been writing these verses for you. 
 They shew more of the father than poet, ’tis true ! 
 
 Yet in spite of the critics^ papa will be bold : 
 
 Little boy, ’tis your birth-day — your.’e just four years old. 
 
 May the blessing of God in abundance poured down. 
 
 Give thee grace while on earth, and in glory a crown ; 
 
 As thou growest in years, may thy virtues unfold, 
 
 ’Tis my prayer on thy birth-day, when just four years old.” 
 
206 
 
 wilberforce’s early 
 
 The incidents of childhood are seldom • inter- 
 esting beyond the family circle, neither can 
 much reliance be placed on early appearances 
 of piety, untried by temptation. It may be well 
 to cherish every holy emotion in bur ’children ; to 
 water and cultivate the tender plant committed to 
 our care ; but until influence and impression is suc- 
 ceeded by principle and the choice of the mind, we 
 may rejoice in the buddings of divine life, but 
 we' must not indulge in too sanguine expectations. 
 The sceptical tendencies of Wrlberforceb mind in 
 childhood; are by no means, of rare • occurrence 
 at that age ; for infidelity, notwithstanding its 
 arrogant pretensions to superiority, • is the vulgar 
 weed which grows in every soil, and’ \vithers 
 before the sunshine of clearer inforrhation ; a 
 little knowledge may help’ to an ' .objection, 
 when diligent and serious inquiry will discover its 
 futility. • ■ . • ’ 
 
 There is one -note in Mr. Richmond’s papers, 
 which refers to Wilberforce’s conduct- and feelings 
 on receiving the report of his brother’s death. •• It 
 is probable he shared his father^s anguish ' in 
 that mournful event — uncertain as they both were 
 of Nugent’s spiritual welfare, and fearing the 
 worst from all that was then known of 'his past 
 conduct. They had heard nothing of those 
 satisfactory testimonies to his conversion, which 
 
CHARACTER AND VIEWS. 
 
 207 
 
 afterwards cheered and relieved, their minds. 
 A concern for the everlasting, welfare of another, 
 is no small . evidence of our own sincerity, in 
 the pursuit of* eternal life: and, I have no 
 doubt that- Wilb'erforce had,. at that tirne, made a 
 progress in true religion, greater than his extreme . 
 reserve warranted his friends to conclude. His . 
 respect for piety, ‘ the deep attention with- which 
 •he, listened to instruction, the satisfaction which 
 he displayed in communicating to .others what he 
 seemed to understand himself, ' and his uniform 
 good conduct and general conformity to- the habits 
 of a religious family, induced his father to hope. 
 
 all was well with him,” though he was too deeply 
 impressed ’ with the infinite value and necessity 
 of a sound conversion to God, to rest satisfied -with 
 any thing short of a full and explicit declaration 
 on the* part of his child. ... 
 
 Wilberforce had ever expressed a decided 
 preference for the ministry, which rendered it, 
 in Mr. R.’s judgment, the more necessary that he 
 should possess a piety the most decided and 
 unequivocal. To become- by .profession ' an am- 
 bassador for God to a guilty world, without 
 credentials, was; justly regarded by him as a* 
 profane, intrusion into an office of immense 
 responsibility ^5 and he has been heard to say that 
 ‘ he would rather follow his son. to the grave. 
 
208 
 
 LETTER TO 
 
 than see him in the church without being fitted 
 for such a sacred office.’ ^ 
 
 The sentiments of both will, be best expressed 
 in the following correspondence. The first letter 
 was written from Stockport, in Lancashire, when 
 Wilberforce was eleven years old. 
 
 ‘‘Dear Willy, 
 
 “ Are you indeed a good boy during my ab- 
 sence? Shall I haye no cause for heart-ache on 
 my return, when I ask how my child has behaved ? 
 How .he has obeyed his mamma? How he has 
 .attended to his lessons ? How he has submitted 
 to his sister’s instructions ? How he has con- 
 ducted . himself towards Mr. G ? How he 
 
 has adhered to truth in his words ? How he has 
 
 set H a good example ? Shall I be comforted 
 
 with the glad tidings, that your heart and your 
 conscience, and your ways, all seem to partake 
 of a happy influence? that you throw away all 
 indolence of mind and body? that you’ actively 
 
 ‘ The expression of Mr. Richmond is a strong one, though in 
 perfect unison with the sentiments and feelings of the Editor. 
 Mr. R. must not, however, he mistaken, as if he connected his 
 child’s death with eternal consequences. There can be no doubt 
 that*he intended to say, he should feel the death of his child a less 
 'afflicting dispensation than his profaning a holy ordinance, and, 
 by ignorance or neglect, involving immortal souls hi everlasting 
 destruction. 
 
HIS SON. 
 
 209 
 
 pursue learning and gain it? that your brother 
 improves every day through the effect of your 
 good behaviour ? that you seldom or ever quarrel, 
 snap, or snarl at him? that you pray to God 
 to forgive your sins and hourly offences ? Shall 
 I be told that you have prepared a happy return 
 home for papa, by his hearing all this good of you, 
 when he comes back ? Do the four walls of your 
 little chamber bear witness to your prayers and 
 supplications for yourself and me ? Do the sun’s 
 rays as they early penetrate your window in the 
 morning, find you active to rise, to read, to labour, 
 and to grow in grace ? * ^ * 
 
 * I have seen some beautiful counties since 
 I left you. Staffordshire is full of beauty. Lich- 
 field cathedral too, which though much smaller 
 than York Minster, is a very fine building : I 
 attended divine service there, the organ notes rolled 
 sublimely along the vaulted arches, pillars, and 
 roof. The exquisitely painted windows assimilated 
 to the sounds, and rendered the effect most en-; 
 chanting. The spires are beautiful, and large sums 
 have been laid out in repairing and restoring them. 
 
 One evening I travelled with a friend in a gig 
 for three hours, amidst the never-ceasing distant 
 lightning. The whole western hemisphere was 
 in a constant blaze. The flashes alternated from 
 one point of the horizon to another, distant about 
 
 p 
 
210 
 
 MR. Richmond’s letters 
 
 forty-five degrees from each other ; sometimes the 
 flashes were silvery, sometimes yellow, 'then orange 
 colour ; one while sheet-like, and again so vivid, 
 that we seemed to haye a peep into more distant 
 regions of space ; then more faint, now and- then 
 we heard slight rumblings ; then all was silent 
 again. At one point the flashes gleamed on the 
 ruins pf .a distant castle which appeared all on fire ; 
 a dark forest lay behind, and it formed a fine con- 
 trast.' Sometimes -the forked flashes pursued one 
 another in a kind of playful progress ; at others they 
 dashed at each other as if in terrible combat ; all 
 •this passed between 'seven and ten in the evening. 
 
 But what are these lightnings, compared with 
 those which made. Moses quake and tremble at 
 Mount Sinai, or what were even these contrasted 
 with the lightnings of God’s wrath against sinners? 
 These appearances of nature are striking emblems 
 of Divine justice. You have need to flee from the 
 wrath to . come. Repent, for the kingdom of 
 heaven is at hand. The wicked • and all the 
 people that forget God, shall be turned into hell*. 
 Dear Willy, if you forget him, what will be your 
 portion? If you say that you do not forget him, 
 how do you -prove it ? 
 
 Video meliora'proboque 
 
 Deteriora sequor, 
 
 is the. 'ch-aracter of too many nominal Christians. 
 
TO HIS SON. 
 
 211 
 
 I would not have it to be yours ; an enlightened, 
 unconverted mind with eyes and tongue to 
 approve what is right, but the feet walking in 
 the paths of evil. A converted heart alone will 
 enable you to follow his steps, who is the 
 way, the truth, and the life.” 
 
 I sincerely hope that you are beginning to be 
 truly sensible of the evil and danger of sin, .and 
 the necessity of seeking God betimes. Occasional 
 indispositions should remind you, that you may 
 never arrive at man’s estate. If you are to die a 
 boy, we must look for a boy’s religion, a boy’s 
 knowledge, a boy’s faith, .a boy’s Saviour, a boy’s 
 salvation ; or else a boy’s ignorance, a boy’s obsti- 
 nacy, a boy’s unbelief, a boy’s idolatry, ’ a boy’s 
 destruction. . • Remember all this, and beware of 
 sin ; above all dread the sinfulness of an estranged 
 heart. Pray for a new one ; pray for grace and 
 pardon, and a soul conformed to the image of 
 Christ ; pray for wisdom, for the destruction 
 of'pride, vain conceit, and self-sufficiency.- Be not 
 slothful in business, but fervent’ in spirit, serving 
 the Lord. Friends here inquire after you, in the 
 full hope that you are going on well, creditably, 
 obediently, industriously, humbly and Christianly. 
 Love to all, from 
 
 * Your affectionate Father, 
 
 L, R. ’’ 
 
212 
 
 wilberforce’s letters. 
 
 What reply was made by Wilberforce to this 
 letter, does not appear ; his repugnance to a free 
 and unreserved communication on the subject 
 of personal religion, seems not to have been 
 overcome till nearly four years after, though his 
 anxious father longed to elicit something on this 
 point more satisfactory than could be collected 
 from a general acquiescence in the opinions and 
 habits of the family. A letter written by Wil- 
 berforce to his father in 1821, discloses a mind 
 under the influence of more distinct views, and 
 stronger feelings breaking through the fetters 
 of natural reserve. 
 
 My dear Father, 
 
 You will believe me, when I .say, that I 
 entirely and most thoroughly agree with you, ‘ that 
 it is time we should communicate frequently, 
 intimately, and confidentially.’ I feel very thank- 
 ful that you have so plainly declared your thoughts 
 and determination concerning me ; I know rhy 
 inability to answer you in the way you wish, but 
 I rejoice in an opportunity of telling you what my 
 thoughts have been and still are in respect of the 
 most important subject of your inquiry. I deeply 
 regret that a false shame has hitherto deterred me 
 from an open avowal of my sentiments and feelings. 
 I will honestly confess to you, that I have never 
 
wilberforce’s letters. 
 
 213 
 
 seriously considered the subject of the ministry 
 till within the last few months. Brought up from 
 my infancy with the expectation of becoming a 
 clergyman, and accustomed as I have been to 
 think and speak of it as my future profession, I 
 have been little aware of the difficulty, and have 
 not sufficiently considered the responsibility, of the 
 office which I hoped would one day be mine. 
 You know how much this prospect has pleased 
 me all through my childhood. I have had many 
 fears and alarms about my sinful state, but they 
 soon faded away. The impression has never been 
 permanent till dear little Atherton died. At that 
 time it pleased God to awaken in me a deeper 
 sense of my dangerous condition, and I prayed 
 very earnestly that God would pardon my sins 
 for Christ Jesus’ sake, and that the Holy Spirit 
 would renew my heart. Then I fell into another 
 error, for I began to trust myself instead of the 
 Saviour. I thought I was now proof against 
 temptation, and had the presumption to suppose 
 myself fit for the ministry. But I was awfully 
 deceived. There arose soon after in my mind 
 many doubts of the authenticity of the scriptures. 
 Wherever I went, or whatever I was doing, these 
 doubts haunted me. I found that 1 could not, I 
 dared not pray. At first I repulsed these sug- 
 gestions with horror, but they gradually laid so 
 
214 
 
 wilberforce’s letters. 
 
 fast hold of me, that they destroyed all my peace. 
 When engaged in my studies, that which was 
 often ascribed to idleness, was really occasioned by 
 the state of my mind, which was so’ perplexed 
 that I could not attend to other things ; even my 
 pleasures were damped by uneasiness. I have no 
 doubt that if I had been in some . situations, I 
 should have become a determined infidel. I trem- 
 ble, dear papa, while I write thus ; and when I 
 look back and think of my situation at that time, 
 I cannot feel sufficiently thankful that my life 
 was spared, and that I was not cut off from God 
 for ever. I found that I had trusted in my own 
 strength, that I had neglected prayer, and while 
 I continued in that neglect, I could not reasonably 
 expect the removal of these distressing searchings 
 of heart. It was with some difficulty I could bring 
 myself on my knees again. I was fearful that 
 God would not hear me. But I read the Bible for 
 encouragement, and I found it there. By con- 
 tinual prayer I was directed to the means of relief, 
 and I have not been troubled with one more 
 doubt since that time. Indeed, I cannot but believe 
 that the death of our poor little Atherton was blest 
 to me. It affected me more than any conversation 
 or other event, and more than any one knew ; I 
 have never lost the impression. 
 
 '‘Yet I cannot feel comfortable in becoming a 
 
WILBERFORCE S LETTERS. 
 
 215 
 
 minister of Christ in my present state of mind. 
 My conscience would be uneasy, if I presumed to 
 fill an office, whose functions are so far above my 
 ability or piety; but I earnestly pray that God 
 may give me such a measure of his grace, as may 
 in some degree fit me to become an unworthy, but 
 true servant of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 Having now freely and confidently told you 
 what has been passing in . my mind, I lie in your 
 hands, and trust you will pardon any error of 
 expression or sentiment which may appear in my 
 letter, and that you will correct whatever you 
 see wrong in me. Receive, my dear papa, my 
 confidence, as the strongest mark of affection 
 and gratitude which can be given by your 
 affectionate, but unworthy son, 
 
 WiLBERFORCE.’’ 
 
 I have no documents to trace the progress of 
 this interesting boy during an interval of nearly 
 two years. Able and. pious tutors attended to his 
 improvement in literature, and by their conversa- 
 tion and example, aided his progress in religion ; 
 which, though still of a reserved character, was 
 doubtless sincere and increasing. 
 
 In 1823 Mr. Richmond was in Glasgow, from 
 whence he wrote to his son as follows : 
 
216 
 
 LETTERS TO WILBERFORCE, 
 
 “ My very DEAR WiLBERFORCE. 
 
 I am very glad that Hartwell Horne proves 
 so acceptable to you. * * ^ ^ ^ 
 
 I cannot express my anxieties on your account, 
 both as they respect your Christian principles, 
 and your future prospects as connected with the 
 ministry. We must indeed become still more 
 communicative and confidential, or the burden on 
 my heart will become heavier than I can bear. 
 It has long been the first wish of my mind, that 
 you should be a minister of the gospel, but only, 
 and entirely, and unequivocally, without partial- 
 ity, and without hypocrisy, as your personal 
 character, experience, and determination might 
 be formed on a serious, affectionate, conscientious, 
 and prayerful foundation. I want to see my loved 
 boy first a true Christian, and then a true minis- 
 ter. Oh ! may God hear my prayers on this 
 subject. For this I cry day and night, — and 
 unworthy as I am of such a blessing, yet I will 
 trust him for it, and I would wrestle like Jacob 
 until I attain it. But you must wrestle too, yea, 
 and with all your heart, all your mind, all your 
 soul, and all your strength. You must study 
 your own heart ; you should not only study the 
 scriptures, but keep in reading some searching 
 experimental book as a bosom companion. A 
 
LETTERS TO WILBERFORCE. 
 
 217 
 
 love of such reading, at least no alienation from 
 it, proves a useful test of character. ^ ^ 
 
 * * * I am glad to hear you give 
 
 yourself more regularly and resolutely to study. 
 I have often had fears of indolence and inactivity, 
 those banes of all progress, proficiency, and hope. 
 I shall indeed rejoice to find that the bonds are 
 broken. * # # ^ ^ 
 
 Theology itself, important as are its themes and 
 communications, sinks into mere science or lite- 
 rary attainment, unless founded upon, and 
 accompanied by, a devotional and affectionate 
 application of its principles to the soul. 
 
 It is much easier to be a divine, than a Chris- 
 tian — an ecclesiastic, than a pastor. You may 
 be little aware how much more truth and wisdom 
 dwell in some cottages and hearts at Turvey, than 
 in many a house, and in many a mind, in which 
 superior advantages seem to prevail, and even 
 where real religion is known and respected. I 
 long for the day when you* and I may not only 
 comfortably and confidently converse on these 
 subjects, on things which belong to our everlast- 
 ing ppace, our prospects in time and eternity ; 
 but when you may take such a share in my pri- 
 vate parochial intercourse with the parishioners, 
 as may leave no doubt of your being one with us. 
 But then it must be previously manifest that you 
 
218 
 
 LETTERS TO WILBERFORCE. 
 
 are consistent and in earnest, that you have not 
 only put away childish follies and faults, but are 
 living, and not ashamed to live, under the influence 
 of higher principles. I want you to aid me eflec- 
 tually in the instruction of poor children, in visit- 
 ing the sick, in conversing with the poor. If you 
 are to be a . minister, you- should now commence 
 your seven years’ apprenticeship to the holy office. 
 But then your conduct must be uniform, simple, 
 consistent. The reproach of the cross must in some 
 measure be encountered, and the love of Christ in 
 the heart put to some satisfactory test. Think of 
 these things, and write to me about them. Let 
 me have the comfort of knowing more of your 
 mind. Our present interval of separation may.be 
 a time of much salutary communication. I would 
 say in the language of Solomon, “ My son, give me 
 thy heart ; ” but first give it to God. You are 
 arrived at an age when many dangerous tempta- 
 tions will assail you, and you will be put to the 
 proof whether your heart is right with God, and 
 if you are thrown upon the world and its seduc- 
 tions, more than, happily, has hitherto been 
 needed or sought, you will find indeed that it 
 lieth in wickedness, multiplied, subtle, and appall- 
 ing. May you, my dear son, be- preserved in your 
 youth, and when old, never depart from the way 
 in which you have been trained. 
 
LETTERS TO WILBERFORCE. 219 
 
 ‘‘You must in a very especial manner consider 
 the daily influence of your temper, conduct, and 
 conversation upon your brothers and sisters. An 
 elder brother is usually the blessing or a curse 
 of a household. You never knew, or will know, 
 what I suffered on poor Nugent’s account ; but 
 God has, I trust, in mercy over-ruled for eventual 
 good, what seemed to threaten nought but 
 evil. May the course of' your youth be very 
 different, and may you contribute to heal the 
 remains of former wounds inflicted on my parental 
 feelings. 
 
 “ Write soon, for letters are long in coming to 
 me. Give a very affectionate message to my 
 much-loved parishioners, and do assure them, how 
 closely I bear them on my heart’s remembrance. 
 Love to all. God bless you, my dear children; 
 yes, God bless you all. There is a certain store 
 of love in this house, from which is drawn a 
 respectable portion to be conveyed to Turvey. 
 Take it, and use it well. Assemble the brother- 
 hood and sisterhood, and kiss them in their 
 succession, telling them it is a proxy from one 
 who loves them well, and that one is their affec- 
 tionate Father, 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
220 
 
 WILBERFORCE S LETTERS. 
 
 The following extract, which connects this 
 correspondence, was written by Wilberforce to his 
 father in the same year, and during the same 
 journey to Scotland. 
 
 ^ * # I thought and con- 
 
 sidered a great deal on the contents of your last 
 letter ; I read it, I assure you, with many tears, 
 but they were tears of love to you, and of sorrow 
 that I fell so far short of your wishes and reason- 
 able expectations. You say you wish me first to 
 be a true Christian, and then a true minister ; 
 believe me, when I say, that though it is the first, 
 the nearest, and the dearest wish of my heart, I 
 would not have a desire, not the slightest desire 
 of entering the church in an unfit state of mind. 
 I would rather engage in the meanest occupation 
 of life, than be a disgrace to the religion of Christ, 
 by entering into the holy profession while I am 
 unfit for it. When I look at the apostles of old, 
 and mark how full they were of love to Christ 
 and their fellow-creatures ; or when I look to good 
 men of our own day who tread in their steps, I 
 shrink from assuming a profession for which I 
 cannot but know myself most unworthy. I am 
 conscious of being a great sinner, and I seem to 
 myself utterly incompetent to be more than a 
 humble disciple in the church of God. But I 
 
WILBERFORCE S LETTERS. 
 
 221 
 
 know that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth 
 from all sin, and his Spirit can enable me, sinful 
 as I am, to love and serve him. I have much to 
 be thankful for. I ought to be thankful that I am 
 permitted to think about these things. At times 
 I have felt very happy in prayer and reading the 
 Scriptures. My joy has been such, that I seemed 
 ready not only to love God, but give up all the 
 world for his sake ; then again the cares and 
 pleasures of life have laid hold of me, and sunk 
 me into sorrow. 
 
 Pray for me, my dear father, that my waver- 
 ing mind may be fixed in the paths of truth, and 
 may choose that better part, which when once 
 obtained, shall never be taken away from me ; and 
 may God direct me to that profession of life, in 
 which I may most promote his glory, and my own 
 good, and that of my fellow-creatures.” 
 
 The following year Wilberforce was attacked 
 with a dangerous illness, which terminated in his 
 death. 
 
 A journey to Scotland was recommended, with 
 
 a view to cons.ult Dr. , whose method of 
 
 treating pulmonary disease was supposed to have 
 succeeded in many instances. 
 
 Mr. R. engaged a small cottage at Rothsay, 
 in the Isle of Bute, at a convenient distance 
 
222 
 
 LETTER FROM SCOTLAND. 
 
 from this physician’s residence. From hence he 
 made frequent excursions by sea and land, in the 
 hope, by a change of scene and air, to check the 
 progress of the disorder. It appears by the follow- 
 ing ’letter to his' curate, that he had not yet 
 despaired of his son’s' recovery, but being -at once 
 the nurse, the father, and the spiritual -guide, of 
 his dear boy, he was making every effort on his 
 behalf, and diligently employing the means pre- 
 scribed by the jphysician. • * 
 
 My dear Friend and Brother. 
 
 If the date of this letter inay seem to betoken 
 inattention to my. promise, or a wrong estimate of 
 your valuable services during my' absence from 
 home, I rely on- your friendship and. candour to 
 ascribe ihy silence to other causes. I have been 
 almost daily, from morning to night, sailing about 
 with niy dear boy upon sea and river, and neither 
 the motion of the steam-boats, nor the lassitude felt 
 at night after such voyages, are favourable to episto- 
 lary duties. But I can truly say, that my heart’s 
 best prayers and recollections have been with you, 
 and this poor scrawl is meant to tell you so. You 
 well know likewise that anxiety within, added to 
 external causes, will easily unhinge the energy 
 of the mind, and produce a kind of constitutional 
 incapacity and indisposition* to duty itself. But 
 
LETTER FROM SCOTLAND. 
 
 223 
 
 neither let my friend nor my flock for a moment 
 conceive that they are forgotten. During many an- 
 hour, as I have been floating on the waves, pacing 
 the mountains and glens, admiring the islands and 
 the rocks; tracing the progress of sun or moon 
 upon the’ ocean or landscape, and amidst all, fixing; 
 an anxious and affectionate look upon our dear 
 invalid as he sat by my side ; ^ during many such 
 an hour have I dwelt with solicitude and regard on 
 the domestic and parochial scenery’ of Tufvey, — • 
 dear Turvey, where so many sweet ' pledges, 
 both of natural and spiritual love reside, — where 
 my poor boy was born ’ and trained up with 
 broihers and sisters no less loved than him- 
 self. Our' intercourse and conversations under 
 existing’ circumstances, are deeply interesting to 
 me. He is upon the ’whole in cheerful spirits, and 
 the air of this delightful island particularly suits 
 him. I am just returned ’ from a hill-walk with 
 him, of a mile and a half, and have been sur- 
 prized at the degree of strength which he evinced. 
 The general symptoms are just now, I think, more 
 favourable. Still’ there are evident marks of deep- 
 rooted disease, and I am often much perplexed 
 by the fluctuations in his case. It is one in which 
 I feel it wrong either to encourage over-sanguine 
 expectations of permanent amendment, or to give 
 way to any over-desponding sensations as to the 
 
224 
 
 LETTER FROM SCOTLAND. 
 
 result. Happily he is without pain, and in many 
 respects he enjoys himself. ' He delights in the 
 scenery around us, • which is in the highest degree 
 magnificent and beautiful. He enters with his 
 wonted taste into mineral and geological examin- 
 ations, and wanders gently by the sea-side, hunt- 
 ing for pebbles, animals, shells, sea-weed, &c. 
 and I wander with him. Sometimes a little 
 exertion fatigues him, at other times he bears 
 considerably more without complaining. He has 
 been a thousand miles on the water since we left 
 London, and sailing always agrees with him. I 
 have every reason to be satisfied with the plan we 
 are pursuing. It much contributes to his strength 
 and comfort, and peace of mind ; and, to say the 
 least, has checked the weakening effects of the 
 disorder, and mingled encouragement with appre- 
 hensions which might otherwise have gained 
 daily ground. He is evidently thinking very 
 seriously and rightly, about his state, and our 
 Christian conversation forms no small part of my 
 comfort, and I trust I may add, of his comfort 
 also. Whatever may be God’s will, I feel satis- 
 fied that the present dispensation is profitable to 
 us both. May he confirm and increase our hope. 
 I am much gratified by the accounts which I 
 receive of your very auspicious commencement 
 of ministerial labours at Turvey, and beg you to 
 
wilberforce’s letters. 
 
 225 
 
 feel assured of the value I put on them. Go on, 
 my dear friend, in the strength of the Lord, and 
 may you pursue the arduous career of holy exer- 
 tion, in public and in private, to your own comfort, 
 the glory of God, and the good of my dear flock. 
 Make known how affectionately I feel towards 
 them, — how earnestly I desire their prayers, and 
 how sincerely I remember them in mine. My 
 not writing to them at an earlier period has arisen 
 entirely from the constant occupation and anxiety 
 which have monopolized my time and my feelings. 
 Wilberforce thanks you for your kind letter. I 
 hope he will soon feel able to answer it. Dear 
 boy ! — he talks with hope of returning to Turvey 
 with amended health, and telling you in person 
 how much he enjoyed the scenery of the North. 
 Pray for him and me, that we may lay in our 
 heavenly Father’s bosom like children, and wait 
 his pleasure like believers. You will not forget 
 the other dear boys, — they are in your hands for 
 good, and may God bless you to them all. Give 
 them my blessing, and let them convey it to all at 
 the Rectory. Believe me, 
 
 Your’s affectionately, 
 
 L. R. ” 
 
 Much of what I should have detailed has been 
 introduced into the memoir of Mr. Richmond. 
 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 wilberforce’s letters. 
 
 Two only of Wilberforce’s letters remain; the 
 first of these was written to his brother H. 
 
 My dear H. 
 
 I. did not think when I parted from you, that 
 I should be as well as I am, for I feel very much 
 better. Sickness and separation have attached 
 me more to you, and to my home, and to all that 
 are in it. Sickness, as is usual, has brought 
 sorrow for its companion, but I trust I do not 
 sorrow as one without hope. My illness has 
 proved a warning to me, and it may also be a 
 warning to you. You saw me brought down, in a 
 very short time, from a state of health and strength, 
 to one of weakness and debility ; and ail our 
 natures are alike, equally fragile, equally tran- 
 sient. Uncertain is every tie which binds us to 
 life, and therefore it is my prayer, that you, no 
 less than myself, may look forward to our latter 
 end, and not neglect opportunities of attending 
 more closely to the things which belong to our 
 everlasting peace, and guarding against the in- 
 creasing fascinations of a world that lieth in 
 wickedness. # * # ” 
 
 The second letter was a reply to his Father’s 
 instructions and preparations for the Lord’s 
 Supper. 
 
WILBERFORCE S LETTERS. 
 
 227 
 
 My dear Father, 
 
 ‘‘ I thank you for the kind letter you wrote to 
 me on the subject of the Sacrament. I could 
 not have received one which would have more 
 truly convinced me of your affection and desire 
 for my spiritual welfare. Oh ! may God give an 
 answer to your prayers and desires on my behalf, 
 and may you see me walking humbly and sin- 
 cerely in that narrow path which leads to life 
 eternal. I have thought much on the contents 
 of your letter, and have been deeply affected. 
 At first I was discouraged by a sense of unwor- 
 thiness, and shrunk from the thought of approach- 
 ing the Lord’s table. It then struck me, that even 
 if I had not attained all I desired, I might still 
 venture with a humble and prayerful spirit, and an 
 entire dependence on Christ. I thought, also, that 
 if I neglected attendance, I should be dishonouring 
 the Saviour by a refusal of an appointed means 
 of grace ; and I do hope that by presenting myself 
 to Christ in his own ordinance, I may be con- 
 firmed and strengthened in my faith, and helped 
 on to fulfil the vows made at my baptism, and 
 fight manfully under Christ’s banner against the 
 world, the flesh, and the devil. I would, then, 
 my dear Father, put on the garb of humility, and 
 go and kneel, as the very lowest of his disciples. 
 
228 
 
 WILBERFORCE S LETTERS. 
 
 at the foot of the cross of Jesus, and commemo- 
 rate with gratitude his cross and passion, his 
 glorious resurrection and ascension, — on the merit 
 of which alone are fixed all my hopes in this 
 world and the next. How thankful do I feel 
 that I may kneel at the foot of the cross. Oh ! 
 where besides could I wish to stretch out my 
 aching limbs and die. 
 
 ‘‘ I suppose my journey will make some delay 
 in your intentions, but if I return with renewed 
 health and strength, I would consider that in 
 receiving the sacrament, I give a pledge to God 
 and you, to devote myself, soul and body, to the 
 promotion of the divine glory. But if I should 
 not return in health, and if it should seem fit to 
 the Almighty to shorten my life, yet if he will 
 renew my soul by his Holy Spirit, Oh ! how 
 unspeakable a blessing to wing my flight from 
 sin and sorrow. 
 
 ‘‘ If I were certain of his favour, and my own 
 change of heart, I should only wish to see my 
 Saviour face to face, and praise and love him for 
 ever. I have written hastily, but as long as I 
 could without fatigue, a short, but I assure you a 
 sincere letter. 
 
 Your affectionate Wilberforce.” 
 
WILBERFORCE S LETTERS. 
 
 229 
 
 The closing scene of Wilberforce will be 
 detailed by one who loved him dearly, and was 
 a witness of his latter moments. Mr. Richmond 
 had desired his daughter to note down the events 
 and conversations of the sick chamber, and he 
 refers to them in the following letter. 
 
 My dearly loved F. 
 
 ‘‘ I have been very unwell with a swelled 
 face, accompanied by high fever ; and though 
 better, am still an invalid ; but this illness is 
 sent for some good end to my soul. I desire to 
 investigate that end in a right spirit. The fire 
 at Turvey has done much mischief, and is indeed 
 a general calamity. I wish you to relieve the 
 sufferers. You may distribute for me both money 
 and clothing. I shall be able to decide better 
 on my return, what sum to subscribe. May we 
 know how to glorify God in the fires. 
 
 “ Poor ! although her evidences were faint, 
 
 I thought them genuine. I have seen many 
 such cases, and despair not. God often permits 
 the signs of true faith to appear very feeble, 
 when, nevertheless, the soul still cleaves to the 
 Saviour, in the midst of many causes of suspicion 
 and perplexity. Some are saved, yet so as by 
 fire.” Happy they who are saved at all. 
 
 I hope you have a long manuscript of recol- 
 
230 
 
 WILBERFORCE S LETTERS. 
 
 lections concerning onr beloved Wilberforce. I 
 depend upon it. Employ speedily some • hours in 
 preparing for me all you know relative to that 
 eventful period. I still shed many tears in the 
 remembrance of that dearly- loved boy. I have 
 feelings which never leave me for two hours 
 together. They mingle with all my cheerful, 
 and all my pensive moments. I have particular 
 reasons for delaying to write the memoir, but 
 fully intend to do it. 
 
 I have been at Cambridge. The recognition 
 of many old friends from all parts of England, has 
 much interested me. Indeed, associations con- 
 nected with former days, have quite overpowered 
 me. The older I grow, the more acutely I feel 
 every thing. 
 
 Take care of too frequent intercourse with 
 the world. I write with a heart full of love, but 
 I must caution you. There is nothing more dan- 
 gerous to young Christians, than indiscriminate 
 intercourse with persons of no religion. It is far 
 more likely that we should receive evil, than -im- 
 part good, in such society. I have experienced 
 this too much myself oh many occasions, not to feel 
 it keenly. ’ Prudence and prayer are then espe- 
 cially needful ; for we may more easily conform 
 to the world, than bring the world to conform to 
 us. Happy they who have the least to do with 
 
WILBERFORCE S LETTERS. 
 
 231 
 
 it, except in the way of absolute duty and 
 necessity. I often reflect with gratitude on the 
 blessing which God has given to the retired 
 habits and education of my two boys, W — and 
 H— , one in heaven and one still on earth. To 
 their seclusion I ascribe their simplicity and happy 
 ignorance of many evils. Premature acquaint- 
 ance with the wickedness of the world, — (and there 
 is no knowing the world without coming in con- 
 tact with its wickedness) — has ruined thousands 
 of hopeful young men, and has multiplied the 
 miseries of the hopeless. 
 
 I long for our early morning readings. Latin, 
 Greek, and Mathematics, are a very small and 
 inferior part of learning, particularly for the 
 Christian ministry. While heads are filling, 
 hearts are withering. Give my affectionate love 
 to dear — — ; next to my own boys I do indeed 
 love him. I long to see more of an unreserved 
 and experimental communication between him. 
 
 and H . I have numberless feelings about 
 
 their intercourse which I do not utter, and yet I 
 know not why ; but this I know, that I have you 
 all in my heart ; but that heart will soon turn to 
 dust. There is a better heart in heaven. I would 
 have all my dear children enclosed in it.’ 
 
 ‘‘ Give the children of the Sunday school a new 
 subject, that they may search for texts to prove it. 
 
232 
 
 WILBERFORCE S LETTERS. 
 
 Farewell, dearest F . I lament many 
 
 things, but most of all that I am not worthy to be 
 called 
 
 Your affectionate Father, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 Mr. R. was evidently ripening for heaven. The 
 tenderness, the deep piety of his loving spirit, 
 the weanedness of his heart from the world, and 
 his earnest desire to transfuse his devout feelings 
 unto the minds of all who were connected with 
 him, discover an assimilation to a purer region, 
 and might have prepared us to expect that his 
 departure was not far distant. The documents 
 to which he alludes, are contained in the fol- 
 lowing communication, which I commend to the 
 serious and attentive perusal, both of young 
 persons and their parents. 
 
wilberforce’s life. 
 
 233 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Here were two souls knit together as the soul of one man ; 
 what there is of present separation shall be but for a little while. 
 
 Howe. 
 
 “ My very dear Mr. F- . 
 
 “In compliance with your request, I send 
 you the chief incidents of our brother’s closing 
 scene ; his conversations with my dear father, and 
 other members of his family, and a few of the. 
 letters which were written during that mournful 
 period. You may rely on the accuracy of the 
 whole. My father had intended to have pub- 
 lished a memoir of Wilberforce, and with that 
 view he desired me to make memoranda of what 
 passed at the time. He told me more than once, 
 that the blessing which seemed to attend the 
 perusal of his little tracts, encouraged him to put 
 on record the piety of his son ; which he consi- 
 dered to be no less honourable to God, and con- 
 soling and strengthening to young Christians, 
 than* that of the Dairyman’s Daughter, or the 
 
234 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 Young Cottager. He thought that Willy’s train- 
 ing for eternity might be read with equal advan- 
 tage, and might assist both in imparting clear 
 views of religion, and in relieving the mind from 
 the fears and anxieties which often distress 
 and harass young Christians in the prospect 
 of death. " To know that others have been 
 perplexed with the same doubts, alarmed by the 
 same fears, animated by the same hopes, com- 
 forted by the same promises, and directed by the 
 same precepts,’ he used to say, ‘ demonstrate a 
 holy identity in the influence of the gospel and 
 the effects produced by it, and may comfort the 
 trembling sinner, and confirm the most advanced 
 believer.’ 
 
 There are a number of papers in my father’s 
 hand-writing, relating to my brother’s character 
 and dying hours, which are indeed so unconnected 
 and unfinished, that scarcely any use can now be 
 made of them ; but they show how interes.ting a 
 detail the memoir would have been in his hands. 
 He would sit for hours in his study, perusing and 
 adding to these fragments ; but the excess of 
 feeling and mental agitation, which the contem- 
 plation and reminiscence of the past never failed 
 to renew, greatly impaired his health, and forced 
 him to lay aside his purpose. 
 
 “ In one of the papers alluded to, we found 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 235 
 
 the following remarks in his own hand. " I have 
 never given up the design of writing his memoir, 
 and every day’s meditation has prepared me for 
 it. But whenever I begin, my spirits sink, my 
 eyes are full of tears, and I lay aside my papers 
 to a more convenient season, when I may be able 
 to write with more calmness. Alas ! this is my 
 weakness.’ 
 
 ‘‘ Wilberforce had always been my dear father’s 
 companion in his literary and philosophical pur- 
 suits. From his childhood his chief pleasures and 
 recreations were in the study ; and he used to 
 retire to the museum to make experiments with 
 the air-pump, or electrical machine, or read some 
 book of science, while the other boys- were 
 engaged in their sports. As he advanced in years, 
 he employed his leisure hours more especially in 
 the study of mineralogy and geology. This con- 
 geniality of mind and pursuit contributed to form 
 the strong attachment which subsisted between 
 my father and Wilberforce, and indeed rendered 
 the one almost an integral part of the other. My 
 dear father had a peculiar talent for connecting 
 science with religion, and Wilberforce seemed 
 more than his other children to afford him mate- 
 rials for a successful cultivation. 
 
 “ In my father’s miscellaneous papers we find 
 the following short notes, evidently written in 
 
236 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 reference to the projected memoir. ' Early in- 
 tellectual conversation, great general reading, 
 strong turn for reasoning and argument, deep and 
 close investigation of philosophical questions, 
 acquaintance with subjects of political economy, 
 love of natural history, insects, mineralogy, 
 geology, classics, mathematics. My wish and 
 endeavour has been to cultivate philosophical 
 pursuits in connection with religion, with my 
 children as recreations, instead of allowing and 
 encouraging the trifling and often pernicious 
 amusements of the world. I have found my plan 
 answer in his case.’ 
 
 Our dear father had succeeded in making his 
 home dear to all his children. Home was never 
 talked of without emotion by any of them. They 
 left it with regret. They returned to it with the 
 fondest affection, and connected with it every 
 endearing association. No patriot Israelite ever 
 sang of the place of his nativity with more en- 
 thusiasm, Let my tongue cleave to the roof 
 of my mouth, if I prefer not Jerusalem above my 
 chief joy.” Our beloved parents’ integrity and 
 uniform consistency engaged our esteem, and the 
 multiplied resources of innocent gratification which 
 surrounded us, won our regard. 
 
 As Wilberforce grew up, he was considered by 
 the whole family as the one marked out to fill his 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 237 
 
 father’s place in the church, and to his relatives. 
 He became an object of interest to all ; and to 
 none was he more endeared than to his loving 
 parent, who clung to him with deeper affection 
 each succeeding year. 
 
 In the spring of 1 824, when he had reached 
 his seventeenth year, we were first alarmed for 
 his health. He took cold from a wet ride, and a 
 slight cough succeeded. One morning in the 
 month of May my father discovered symptoms 
 of his having ruptured a blood-vessel. His fears 
 were greatly awakened, as appears from a note 
 in his papers. ‘ As I looked on him that morn- 
 ing I felt a shock which seemed to shatter me to 
 the very soul, and I have never recovered it.’ In 
 a short time Wilberforce’s appearance was con- 
 siderably altered, and his spirits were depressed. 
 
 When a journey to Scotland was proposed, my 
 father was greatly agitated, the more so because 
 it was impossible that at that time he should 
 accompany him, and he dreaded even a short 
 separation from his beloved child. His feelings 
 will be best shown by the following letter : 
 
 St. Neats, Monday night. 
 
 ‘‘ My ever dear love, 
 
 ^ ^ No one knows, or ever can 
 
 know, the anxiety which I have felt on our dear 
 
238 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 child’s account. Little as it may have been per- 
 ceived, I have been inwardly agitated beyond 
 expression, and this must apologize for any weak- 
 ness or inconsistency.of which I have been guilty. 
 God only knows what I have suffered. I have 
 been taken by surprise. The alarming symptoms 
 in the disease of our beloved child have awakened 
 a thousand feelings and fears. I have reflected 
 on his bodily, but much more acutely on his 
 spiritual estate. I have been unwilling to separate 
 from him under all the probable, or at least 
 possible contingencies of the disorder. I have 
 wept and trembled. I have mourned over my 
 past deficiencies towards him. I have had my 
 hopes, not being ignorant of the exercises of his 
 mind for years past. Yet I have had my fears, 
 lest he should have fallen from his first love, and 
 lest his literary pursuits should have weaned his 
 heart from God. For more than a year past, I 
 have hourly meditated on the course of his edu- 
 cation and preparation for the sacred ministry. 
 He has been the star of my hopes, the source of 
 my anxieties. I have anticipated with exquisite, 
 though unuttered joy and hope, his entrance on 
 the glorious work of preaching the unsearchable 
 riches of Christ, and I have also been full of 
 anxiety in a view of the falls and disappointments 
 which yearly occur amidst the contaminations and 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 239 
 
 injurious companionship of a college career. Yet 
 I have never ceased to hope that God will work 
 with him and by him. My declining years have 
 been cheered by associations connected with my 
 interesting boy ; but the Lord now sees good, — 
 and blessed be his name, — to hang a dark curtain 
 between me and all these thoughts and visions. 
 Hence I am sometimes fearful, sad, and heavy. 
 
 I see fully the necessity and propriety of 
 the proposed journey, but I doubt his strength 
 and ability to 'encounter the fatigue and trial 
 inseparable from it. Chiefly I dread being 
 absent from him when heart and strength 
 may fail, and I may only see him again 
 sinking into the grave, unaided, unstrength- 
 ened, unblessed by his affectionate father. Did I 
 but know more of his mind, I might possibly be 
 more at ease ; but his reserve withholds from me 
 this consolation. I have made a gentle, and I 
 hope a considerate attempt to draw him out by a 
 little opening discussion of the sacrament. I start 
 for Cambridge at half-past four to-morrow. The 
 sight of that place will most acutely remind me 
 of the past as it relates to myself, connected with 
 the contingencies of the future as it may concern 
 him. I have many fears mingled with the hope 
 of his recovery. I feel very anxious from day to 
 day. May God overrule all these things for the 
 
240 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 good of each of us. Give my love to all, and an 
 especial blessing to Willy. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 L. R. ’ 
 
 ‘‘ After it was decided that my brother should 
 go to Scotland, we were advised to send him there 
 
 by a sea-voyage, in company with Mr. . His 
 
 father was to follow him in a few days. He was 
 much depressed at this time. It was his first 
 separation from the paternal roof, and his mind 
 became deeply affected when the parting hour 
 arrived, and when he was to bid farewell to his 
 beloved mother, to brothers and sisters, to domes- 
 tics and neighbours, endeared to him by every 
 sweet and tender tie of youthful affection ; to the 
 home of his infancy ; to almost every person, 
 place, and thing, with which he had been 
 accustomed to associate happiness ; the agitations 
 of his feelings increased the weakness of his 
 frame ; the conflict of his mind was visible in his 
 countenance, he looked pale and languid ; a 
 painful contrast to the usual smile which played 
 on his countenance. On the morning of his de- 
 parture he was very silent. He looked on us all 
 as we stood around him, and with tears in his 
 eyes he stepped into the carriage. During the 
 interval of separation, my father corresponded 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 241 
 
 with him/ and was very earnest to draw from 
 him a more unreserved communication, and to 
 satisfy himself more thoroughly of the reality 
 of Wilberforce’s piety, of which he entertained 
 some doubts, amidst many hopes : but my brother 
 avoided the inquiry of his anxious and distressed 
 parent. The voyage agreed well with him. In 
 the course of a fortnight my father and I fol- 
 lowed him into Scotland. We met Willy as we 
 entered the Firth of Clyde in a steam-boat. He 
 looked much better ; his spirits were good, and 
 the meeting between us inspired reciprocal feel- 
 ings of hope and joy. 
 
 For a while Willy’s health seemed to be im- 
 proved, but we soon discovered that there was no 
 material amendment. For a few weeks he was 
 buoyant in spirit, and apparently restored ; then 
 the hectic fever flushed his cheek, he grew weaker, 
 and again sunk into depression. Our dear parent, 
 who at that time did not understand the hopeless 
 nature of the complaint, watched over his wasting 
 child amidst intense anxieties, increased probably 
 by the uncertainty of the issue in his own mind. 
 It was not a temporary separation which alone 
 affected him, though even this is a grief heavy to 
 bear ; but the least apprehension of losing for evei^ 
 
 ' See letter in the Memoirs, pp. 521 — 528. 
 
 R 
 
242 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 one we love, fills the soul with the bitterest anguish. 
 It is impossible to be sincere yet calm under 
 such circumstances, while any hope remains, or 
 any help can be administered. A holy violence 
 of feeling and effort, best discovers the integrity 
 of our principles. There was much in Wilberforce 
 to love and admire. His disposition was very 
 amiable. The usual results of a religious edu- 
 cation were visible in him ; he shewed every 
 outward respect for religion ; strictly observed 
 its forms and duties, and admitted the theory 
 of doctrinal truth ; but this did not satisfy our 
 dear father. He knew full well that it was very 
 possible to do what was right in the sight of God 
 without a perfect heart, — to cleanse the outside of 
 the platter or beautify the sepulchre, while all 
 within might be impure ; inasmuch as the specula- 
 tive approval of truth is distinct from its sanctifying 
 influence. Accustomed as our parent had been to 
 contemplate the infinite worth of an immortal soul, 
 — a soul in this instance given to him by God to 
 train for eternity, — it was impossible that he 
 should feel otherwise than intensely anxious while 
 he entertained any doubt of its salvation. It 
 was this uncertainty which so greatly disturbed 
 his peace and injured his health. Wilberforce 
 seemed shut up in impenetrable reserve ; he 
 shrank from personal conversation on religious 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 243 
 
 subjects, though his thoughtful and often depressed 
 countenance exhibited traces of inward conflict, 
 and need of help and comfort. He afterwards 
 deeply regretted his silence, and said, ‘‘ It was a 
 device of Satan to retard my progress in vital 
 experimental piety.” Our dear parent carried 
 this trouble to God, and ^ rolled his sorrows on 
 him’ who alone could help him. For many 
 months he was sorely tried on this point. But God, 
 always faithful and true, heard and answered 
 his prayers more abundantly than he could ask 
 or think. "‘A vehement suitor cannot but be 
 heard of God, whatsoever he asks ; if our prayers 
 want success, they want heart ; their blessing is 
 according to their vigour.” ^ The following letters 
 were written to Mrs. R. about this period. 
 
 dear love, 
 
 “ Here we are in something like an earthly para- 
 dise, if beauty, sublimity, and diversity of scenery 
 may constitute one. The air is most salubrious, 
 the rides delightful. I am glad to say the country 
 agrees well with Wilberforce, who is stronger 
 and in better spirits than I could have expected. 
 He varies occasionally, but suffers little at any time. 
 There is certainly an improvement. The northern 
 
 Bishop Hall. 
 
244 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 experiment has so far answered that it has cheered 
 his spirits, and afforded him recreation and change 
 of air. I have frequent hopes of his amendment. 
 We have therefore reason for gratitude, whatever 
 may be the inscrutable designs of providence. My 
 mind reposes with thankfulness on the goodness 
 of God, amidst a thousand anxieties respecting my 
 dear boy. We are constant companions, and have 
 much Christian intercourse together. Not only 
 do prospect-scenery, geology, botany, ships, 
 rocks, mountains, braes, and ordinary occur- 
 rences, engage our notice : I have much satis- 
 faction in seeing how he enjoys these ; but 
 higher things are not forgotten. We pass daily 
 the hour after breakfast in religious exercises. 
 We are taking Mason’s admirable treatise on the 
 Lord’s Supper as a kind of text-book. It affords 
 me an opportunity of saying what I wish to him, 
 relative to his own personal interest in spiritual 
 matters. I trust we are going on usefully and 
 prosperously. I think I am in my right place and 
 employment, watching, instructing, nursing, and 
 giving myself wholly to the comfort of my boy 
 under his infirmities and vicissitudes. His cough 
 is troublesome twice or thrice in the day. He 
 pursues a bracing system, and a generous diet. 
 To what extent the disease may be preying on the 
 vitals, I dare not conjecture. His present state 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 245 
 
 and appearance are certainly satisfactory, but the 
 complaint is variable and flattering, and I must 
 rejoice with trembling. Oh ! for a quiet, reconciled, 
 patient, waiting mind ! 
 
 ‘‘Our present beautiful retreat is doing me good 
 also, and I need it. My mind and nerves have 
 suffered a severe shock. I am conscious of the 
 benefit I derive. How long I may be permitted 
 to enjoy it God only knows. I would be thankful, 
 and receive grace and strength for the future. 
 
 “ The weather is become very showery, but is 
 pleasant at intervals. These are days which aflbrd 
 the finest mountain effects, and in this part of the 
 Western Highlands they are truly grand. We had 
 a rolling tumbling voyage to Ardentenny. Dr. S. 
 seemed on the whole pleased with the appearance 
 of his patient. Dear love to my children. Tell 
 
 H we are surrounded by immense Trap 
 
 Schistus, and red sand-stone rocks, with great 
 variety of form, substance, and arrangement. ^ 
 * * * much love from all ; from none 
 
 more than your 
 
 Legh.” 
 
 “ My dear love, 
 
 “For a few days after our arrival here, Willy 
 was not so well. The last three days we spent 
 much on the water, and he is stronger and better 
 
246 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 for it. Dr. S. thinks it a casein which a vigorous 
 pursuit of his bracing system may prove success- 
 ful, though he speaks with caution. The worst 
 symptoms are, the shortness of breath and debility 
 in ascending stairs and short hills. But if the 
 tone of the system can be raised, these symptoms 
 will diminish. His spirits rise and fall as he feels 
 better or worse. I asked Dr. S. what proportion 
 of cases had recovered under his treatment ; — he 
 replied, where it is regularly followed, half. Willy 
 rests much on the hope of amendment, and gene- 
 rally replies to any inquiry after his health, I am 
 better. I never leave him from morning to night. 
 Dr. S. is about five hours’ sail from us. We spent 
 a pleasant day last Thursday with him in Lord 
 B ’s family. 
 
 “ I am inwardly struggling and striving to be 
 calm and reconciled to God’s will. I am going 
 through depths in the inward meditation of my 
 soul. When you write to Wilberforce keep in 
 full view the uncertainty of human life, even with- 
 out, much more with, the certainty of disease. Pa- 
 tients like dear W. are full of stronger emotions 
 and disposed to deeper meditations, as disease 
 threatens a nearer approach to eternity. General 
 sentiments and feelings are more easily preserved 
 than the special application of them to a particular 
 case. He is still very reserved to me, yet I perceive 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 247 
 
 he reads, and I think meditates on important sub- 
 jects. I find it a delicate and a difficult matter to 
 preserve the right balance between the state of 
 his spirits, vacillating, rising and falling with 
 the state of his disease, and a reasonable hope 
 which is not influenced by an earthly association. 
 Endeavour to draw out his sentiments and feelings, 
 and desire him to keep a letter always on the 
 stocks for you, — to write a little, day by day, till 
 the sheet be full. 
 
 ‘‘So you saw Lord B ’s funeral pass through 
 
 Bedford. I could wish for Christianity’s sake that 
 its open and acknowledged adversary had remained 
 
 in , where alone his life and conduct seemed 
 
 to have been doing good. To this country his 
 writings will be a lasting bane, and must con- 
 tinue to injure religion so long as infidelity, blas- 
 phemy, and vice can obtain circulation and popu- 
 larity, when clothed and armed with the splendour 
 of great genius and talent. These constitute the 
 real objects of worship with many who profess 
 to be Christians. I entertain no doubt that the 
 adoration of an intellectual and poetical idol may 
 be as great a sin as falling down to the golden 
 image in the plains of Dura. Alas ! we have sel- 
 dom seen true piety and true poetry united ; but 
 genius and vice have been too often associated in 
 the annals of mankind. We have need of due 
 
THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 2 48 
 
 discrimination in our estimate of characters, to be 
 aware of the dazzling influence of able corrupters 
 and destroyers of virtue. 
 
 “You must only expect in general a few lines 
 from me, but I hope enough to convince you how 
 much I love and esteem you. Convey to the 
 people an affectionate pastoral message. The 
 
 same to Mr. ; cheer and encourage him 
 
 in my name. To my dear boys and girls give 
 sweet messages of love ; and for yourself accept 
 a fragrant nosegay of pretty things from your own 
 affectionate, 
 
 Legh.” 
 
 “ I do not think Willy was fully aware of his 
 danger at this time, though from his reseiTe it 
 was difficult to ascertain his opinion of himself ; 
 and his physician was afraid of discouraging him 
 by a disclosure of his real situation, as he consi- 
 dered it of importance that he should expect 
 recovery, and cultivate cheerfulness of temper. ' 
 
 ^ Disease and the methods of cure lie within the province of a 
 medical attendant, and under certain circumstances it may not 
 he proper to interfere with him. Yet when there is little or no 
 reasonable expectation of recovery, there is a degree of cruelty in 
 keeping up a delusion, and inducing a patient to delay turning to 
 God till he cannot turn in his bed. It is unjustifiable on any 
 principle of reason or revelation. This practice may be traced to 
 an indifierence to religion, or an ignorance of its real character. 
 — Editor. 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 249 
 
 ‘‘Willy wrote a few letters during his residence 
 at Rothsay, of which the following are speci- 
 mens : — 
 
 “ Dear , 
 
 “ I am not inattentive or indifferent to the kind 
 solicitude you have expressed for me. I now 
 experience what I have only heard before, that 
 nothing is more consolatory in sickness than to be 
 remembered by those we loved in health. I have 
 been very unwell since I saw you, and I once 
 thought I must have given up my former enjoy- 
 ments, my future hopes and prospects, even the 
 
 pleasure of seeing dear friends such as you, , 
 
 and all I held most dear on earth. I shall never 
 forget the pang which almost broke my heart at 
 leaving home, when I saw the tops of the houses, 
 and the church, and the fields, and the trees of 
 my native village disappear from my sight. I 
 thought, perhaps I am looking for the last time on 
 the scene of my earliest recollections — my fondest 
 and dearest enjoyments, — but it was a moment of 
 weakness, and I fear it was mingled with a feeling 
 of repining. I had always been happy — too happy, 
 my heart was satisfied with this world, but God 
 was leading me by a path I knew not, in which I 
 should find more certain and durable enjoyment. I 
 needed something to convince me of the emptiness 
 
250 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 of the world, and to lead me to fix my affections 
 higher. I am now much better in health. I do not 
 look like the same person, and I hope I am not pre- 
 sumptuous in anticipating another day with you as 
 
 happy as that spent at W a few months ago. 
 
 Perhaps you will think it a common-place remark, 
 if I express a wish for your company at Rothsay. 
 The situation is beautiful, but beautiful as is the 
 sea stretched now before us, and the mountains 
 and little romantic islands which surround us on 
 all sides, need I say how much more I should 
 enjoy their beauty, were you here to enjoy it 
 
 with us ? I am glad to have dear with me. 
 
 We share our joys together, and think so much 
 alike about every thing. To have been translated 
 so suddenly as I have been, from our flat country 
 to this mountainous region, seems like being taken 
 to fairyland. Neither description nor imagination 
 can do justice to Scottish scenery ; but do not 
 suppose that amidst all its charms I have forgot- 
 ten England. Oh no ! I more than ever love the 
 little blue hills of my native country ; the fertile 
 plains, grassy meadows, waving valleys, and ele- 
 gant rusticity of the cottages, in which we so much 
 excel the hovels of Caledonia. We have here fine 
 exhilarating mountain air, but the nights are cold 
 and bleak. • I long to enjoy again an English 
 summer evening, — to recline as I have often done 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 251 
 
 on a bank warmed by the setting sun, to feel the 
 balmy breeze which wafts the fragrance of the 
 flowers — to listen to the warbling strain of the 
 nightingale, and give way to the wanderings of my 
 imagination, which gave perhaps a delusive yet 
 fascinating sensation of pleasure to the fleeting 
 moment. 
 
 I have sailed above a thousand miles on the 
 sea. I am beginning to like boisterous weather, 
 though I seldom escape the consequences. Adieu. 
 
 Yours, sincerely, 
 
 W.’’ 
 
 About this time my father began to prepare 
 Wilberforce to receive the holy sacrament for the 
 first time, and they used to retire together every 
 day after breakfast during our stay at Rothsay. 
 Willy listened to instruction with respectful silence, 
 and seeming acquiescence in the sentiments laid 
 before him : he appeared interested and anxious 
 to be received into full communion with the 
 church of God, and was often observed to be in 
 deep thought, and sometimes greatly depressed. 
 His unwillingness, however, to free communica- 
 tion rather increased, and as his health was not 
 materially improved, his father’s anxiety often 
 amounted to agony, and he could not conceal the 
 mental agitation which afflicted him. He con- 
 
252 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 tinued to weep and pray in secret for his child’s 
 confidence. From Wilberforce’s conversations at 
 a later period, and from letters written about this 
 time, unknown to his father till after his decease, 
 we learnt what had been the deep exercises 
 of his mind — that he was then earnestly seeking 
 the knowledge and enjoyment of God — that 
 eternal things were daily subjects of his contem- 
 plation and inquiry, and that he also suffered 
 much from an insurmountable repugnance to make 
 known his feelings, his wishes, and wants. He 
 told us afterwards, that though he suffered more 
 from suffering alone, he seemed like one bound 
 with a chain, and could not venture to lean or 
 place his confidence on any human help. At 
 this time he wrote as follows. 
 
 Rothsay* 
 
 “ My dear Mamma. 
 
 “ I was beginning to write to you when your 
 letter arrived. Very many thanks to you for it. 
 It is impossible for me to say how much a letter 
 from home rejoices and relieves me, under the 
 peculiar circumstances by which I am separated 
 from it. The simplest thing which happens in 
 Turvey, becomes to me an object of interest. 
 
 ‘‘ I am very sorry I should be the cause of 
 anxiety to you or to any one I love. I feel this 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 253 
 
 thought more than any pain I suffer in my body. 
 Indeed I lament our separation as much as you 
 can do. This period is one in which I could have 
 wished we might all have been together, but 
 things do not fall out as we would have them, and 
 it is best for us that they do not. I wish to feel 
 resignation in every thing. As for my illness, I 
 trust I receive it at the hands of God, and most 
 firmly believe it to be the greatest mercy he ever 
 vouchsafed me. My heart was engrossed by this 
 world. My affections were not set on things above. 
 I did not sufficiently feel my need of a Saviour. 
 Christ was not my beacon-star to direct the future 
 wanderings of my life, but I looked to the false 
 glare of human ambition, which would have led me 
 to serve myself rather than God ; now I have dis- 
 covered the worthlessness of all my hopes and 
 aims. I find that all I have hitherto done is of 
 no avail in sickness. I have seen what earthly 
 dependance is, — when the world and all that is in 
 it seems about to be hidden from our view for ever. 
 I trust also I have known something of the joy 
 arising out of dependance on Christ in the moment 
 of extremity. I would ask God’s forgiveness for 
 making less improvement of his “loving reproof” 
 than 1 ought to have done. Remember me to 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. G . I hope the school is going 
 
 on prosperously. I wish my class to be told, that 
 
254 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 though far from them, I have not forgotten them. 
 I hope they are regular in their attendance, and 
 that if I return, I shall find them all much im- 
 proved. Oh ! if you knew how very often I think 
 of home. I did not know till now how much I 
 was attached to Turvey. I shall never forget my 
 feelings when I lost sight of our little village. I 
 was obliged to summon up every weak and weary 
 faculty to prevent my quite sinking under the 
 removal from it. ***** * 
 
 Your most afiectionate and dutiful Son, 
 
 W.” 
 
 Rothsay, Septeinher, 
 
 “ My dear Mamma. 
 
 ‘‘ Many thanks for your affectionate birth-day 
 letter. I shall always recollect my last birth- 
 day, for it was the first in which I felt melancholy. 
 In the full enjoyment of health and spirits, sur- 
 rounded by all I most loved, and by the com- 
 panions of my boyhood, those days were wont 
 to pass away more quickly and happily than any 
 other. But as I sailed pensively down the waters 
 of Loch-lomond on the 20th of last month, a day 
 dark and gloomy, and in unison with my feelings ; 
 I felt that I was no longer in the spot where I had 
 spent the former anniversaries with those who 
 shared and welcomed my happiness. Yet I 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 255 
 
 solaced the desolation of feeling with the recol- 
 lection, that though absent, there were those who 
 were thinking of me, and of this your letter con- 
 vinced me. * * * We spent last 
 
 Sunday at Greenock ; a day, I trust, ever to be 
 remembered by me, for on that day I was admitted 
 to the highest Christian privilege, the sacrament 
 of the body and blood of our Saviour Jesus Christ, 
 ordained by him as a perpetual remembrance of 
 his precious death and passion. Oh ! that it may 
 be to me a sign and pledge of my admission to the 
 marriage supper of the Lamb in glory. I was 
 very much affected, and should have been quite 
 overcome by the emotions of my own mind, if I 
 had not felt stronger and better than usual on that 
 day. Now that I am an outward member of the 
 visible church of Christ, may I daily prove myself 
 to be one inwardly, in spirit and in truth ; and what- 
 ever portion of life God is pleased to allow me, I 
 would devote it to his service, and love him with 
 my whole heart, who first loved me. I wish 
 another summer was at hand, instead of another 
 winter. I feel a dread of the winter. There is 
 already an autumnal feeling here. The leaves 
 are beginning to change their lively green to more 
 varied hues. Did the fading leaf ever remind 
 you of the decay of a Christian in this world ? 
 Like the early tints displayed by the unfolding 
 
256 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 bud, are the opening dispositions of a young 
 Christian. His active walk and conversation 
 resemble the healthy vigor of the full matured 
 foliage and fruit. In the signs of withering decay 
 we see an emblem of his closing scene, when he 
 has arrived at the end of his mortal existence, 
 and sinks into a temporary suspension, to 
 shoot forth in a never-fading spring of immortal 
 
 joys.” 
 
 ‘‘We spent the months of July, August, and 
 September in the Isle of Bute, but as the season 
 advanced, we were advised to return home. 
 Apparently, there was little improvement in 
 Wilberforce’s health. Probably from being con- 
 stantly with him, we had not noticed the gradual, 
 yet real increase of the disorder. He certainly 
 considered himself much better, and entertained 
 hopes of recovery, and expressed great pleasure 
 in returning to Turvey. We passed a few days on 
 our way home, with some dear friends in York- 
 shire, with whom our father left us while he went 
 to preach at Bradford. His great anxiety for 
 Willy’s eternal destiny, appears by an interesting 
 letter written to him at this time.^ 
 
 “ My brother arrived at Turvey Rectory the 
 
 See Memoir, pag^e 528. 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 257 
 
 beginning of November, and was restored to the 
 quiet and peace of his own family. Six weeks 
 elapsed with little or no alteration in his appear- 
 ance. In a letter which my father wrote to me 
 at this time, he says. 
 
 Dear Willy is much the same. I wish he was 
 more confidential and communicative as to the 
 real state of his soul. Oh! what would I give 
 for one voluntary conversation or letter, detailing 
 the former and present history of what is passing 
 in his mind. I think well of it, and I hope it is 
 comfortable ; but I want to know this from 
 himself. Many a secret tear does his silence 
 cost me. 
 
 ‘‘ It was during the six months following his 
 return from Scotland, that poor Willy’s soul was 
 so severely tried. He never spoke of death, but 
 he must have been sensible of increasing inward 
 decay. He could not hide from himself or his 
 family, the depression and anxiety of his spirit. 
 He was much alone, and when he returned from 
 his closet to his family, the signs of sorrow and 
 the traces of some deep mental conflict were 
 frequently visible in his countenance. The Bible 
 was scarcely ever out of his hand, and after 
 his return from the north, he seldom took up 
 any other book, religious or literary; which was 
 the more remarkable, as his chief occupation and 
 
258 
 
 THE LATTER PAYS 
 
 delight had ever been in reading authors on 
 almost all subjects. He would now sit for hours, 
 and nearly whole days over the Bible, in deep 
 abstraction ; he was still silent to all about him, 
 and it was sometimes more than my dear father 
 could bear, to witness the increasing uneasiness 
 of his mind, and the sufferings of his body. 
 After so many ineffectual efforts to penetrate 
 the real state of his heart, our afflicted parent 
 had but one resource — to commit his child to 
 God, in faith, and under the pressure of his 
 agonized feelings to cry, Thou hast wounded 
 and wilt heal ; hast broken and wilt bind up 
 again.” The following letters were, I believe, 
 the last my brother wrote. 
 
 Dear — , 
 
 ‘‘ I am afraid that you will conclude that our 
 trip to the north has cooled our affections, and 
 frozen them into indifference to former friend- 
 ships. You must think so no longer * * 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 ‘‘ I am now in that dear home which has some- 
 times been rendered still dearer by your presence. 
 I reflect on those hours with much pleasure, 
 but the remembrance is mingled with a feeling 
 of melancholy. It is possible they may return ; 
 I mean hours of the same delight : yet I must 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 259 
 
 not forget my gradual decline for the last six 
 months. I am now in a state in which a slight 
 increase of disease might prove fatal ; but I am 
 hoping, always hoping ; for hope is a symptom of 
 my disorder, so I must hope. I am no longer 
 what you once knew me. The glow of health 
 and spirits does not now enliven my countenance, 
 which looks, I believe, rather sad ; yet I know 
 not why it should do so, for I have lost only 
 that which endureth for a moment, and if I obtain 
 that which endureth for ever, the love and mercy 
 of Christ, surely I have reason to rejoice in the 
 exchange. In Christ, and Christ alone I find 
 peace. — He will not cast me away. I have 
 thrown myself, as an unworthy sinner, at the foot 
 of the cross, and there in peace will I lay my 
 head, and I trust, cheerfully resign my breath to 
 him who gave it. I used once to love the rose 
 of all the flowers the best ; but now it has left 
 me, and I turn to the lily, for it seems to betoken 
 my approach to a world of purity — nor have I 
 any wish for life, if Christ will receive one so 
 unworthy. From how much sin and tempta- 
 tion shall I make my escape by an early death, 
 and quitting these, enter into a heaven of joy, 
 where there is no more curse. I know that in 
 very faithfulness God has afflicted me ; — my chief 
 sins were pride and ambition, and these have 
 
260 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 been the very means, at least the chief causes 
 of my disease. Proud of my talents, and seeking 
 the admiration of men, I neglected my health* till 
 it was too late to correct the error, and now my 
 dreams of future happiness in this world, and all 
 my ambitious hopes, are fled. But I would not 
 exchange the humility of a Christian for the 
 phantom at which I formerly grasped. People 
 tell me I shall recover. There may be hope, 
 but my own impression is to the contrary. 
 
 Pray for me, dear , and let a tear fall for 
 
 the sins of 
 
 Your affectionate, 
 
 W.” 
 
 Jan. 4, 1825. 
 
 ‘‘ Many many thanks, dear Mamma, for your 
 long and kind letter. I know you love me, and 
 think of me while you are absent ; and it is some 
 little consolation for your absence, and yet but 
 little, for I long for your return very, very much. 
 The house is dull without you, and I am dull ; 
 for I am deprived of the society of one I hold 
 most dear. Do come as soon as circumstances 
 will permit. I would not press it, mamma, but I 
 am not nearly so well as when you left me. My 
 spirits are weak, and my appetite almost gone. 
 * * * * I am glad that you 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 261 
 
 wrote to me so openly and candidly on the 
 subject of death. I feel my earthly tabernacle 
 fast wearing away, and every day brings more 
 occasion for solemn thought and serious reflection ; 
 and now, dear mamma, having said this, I know 
 you will be very anxious to hear something about 
 the state of my mind. Just now it is most un- 
 happy. The thought has forced itself upon me, 
 that I am not a child of God, but have been 
 deceiving myself with false hopes. My breast 
 heaving with anguish, and my eyes swollen with 
 tears too big to find a passage, would bear 
 witness to the agony of spirit I have endured 
 this day. But I have cast myself at the feet 
 of my heavenly Father, and have implored him 
 by his mercy, by the love which led him to send 
 a Saviour into the world, by the death and inter- 
 cession of that Saviour, by the encouragements 
 he has held out to sinners to come unto him, 
 and by the help which he has promised to all 
 those who do so come, — I have implored him not 
 to send me empty away. I have not yet found 
 comfort, but I am looking and trusting. He has 
 said. Whom I love I chasten. I do hope this 
 may be his dealing with me, and if so, 1 shall 
 be thankful for it. Amidst these conflicts, I 
 see, as it were, a light glimmering through the 
 darkness, which leads me on in hope. Oh ! 
 
262 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 mamma, if you love your son, join your prayers to 
 his, that this life, this ray of hope may increase, 
 and that he may have a sure and certain hope 
 of a joyful resurrection to eternal life. I thank 
 you for Miss Jerram’s Memoir. I never read any 
 book with more interest. She had exactly the 
 same feelings I have, but God removed them 
 in his own good time ; and I derive a hope from 
 her deliverance, that I shall not be cast away. I 
 will not think it. I should deny his word — his 
 promises. Sorrow not. Mamma, that I must leave 
 you, — we shall not be long separated. Two little 
 ones are gone before me, and will you not 
 rejoice that God has been so gracious to them ? 
 They knew not the sin and sorrow of the world. 
 I have known both, and I wish to encounter no 
 more. Not one prayer have I offered up for life ; 
 but I have said. Lord, give me a converted heart, 
 and do with my life as seemeth thee best. I 
 feel no desire for life. Do not think I want 
 affection. The thought of parting with you all, 
 is more than I can well bear, but God will give 
 me strength. 
 
 ‘‘You blame yourself for not having talked with 
 me on religious subjects. I am sorry to say you 
 would have found in me a backwardness which I 
 was never able to overcome, but now if you were 
 here I could talk most confidentially with you : 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 2G3 
 
 * * May the Spirit of God rest upon you. 
 
 May he comfort you under present anxiety — 
 May he speak to your heart in future sorrows — 
 May you find joy in all your tribulations, and an 
 earnest of that rest which is prepared for the 
 people of God. I am. 
 
 Your affectionate, 
 
 W.” 
 
 The last letter my brother attempted was to 
 
 Mr. , in Scotland. It was written under 
 
 great debility, and was left very unfinished. 
 
 “ My dear Brother, 
 
 “ Forgive me if I write this letter in a very dis- 
 jointed style. I cannot write long together, and it 
 is difficult to resume thoughts once broken in their 
 connection. Many thanks for your kind letter. 
 You need not have begun with excuses. You 
 make me anxious to have you with me — I want 
 to unburden my heart to you. I wish to hear a 
 voice of comfort from you. I never could speak 
 freely on these subjects — I am sorry you found 
 me so backward to religious conversation, but I 
 could not surmount my repugnance — I found it 
 impossible — I was not near enough to death — I 
 had not known trials and conflicts enough to over- 
 come my reserve, and induce me to unbosom my 
 
264 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 thoughts and feelings. But now that I am strug- 
 gling for life, now that I have experienced hours 
 of mental agony, which might often have been 
 alleviated could I have opened my heart, how 
 much do I long to have you near me. How 
 confidently, how freely would I now converse 
 with you.'’ 
 
 ‘‘ Hitherto Willy’s decline had been so gradual, 
 as scarcely to be observed by those who were 
 constantly about him. He rode on horseback 
 daily, sat much with my father in the study, and 
 appeared to his family nearly as usual, except that 
 an increased anxiety was visible in his counte- 
 nance. But early in January 1825, a considerable 
 alteration was apparent. He wasted rapidly — 
 death was evidently approaching. We were taken 
 by surprise, for our fears had been lulled asleep. 
 My dear father wrote as follows, 
 
 ‘‘ My dearest F. 
 
 “ As I think more uncertainty hangs over the 
 day of your arrival than I wish, I write to hasten 
 your return. Dear Willy droops, he declines fast. 
 He misses you much, and often says he wants you. 
 Many symptoms increase my anxiety about him. 
 He is much weaker within the last few days. 
 Come tons immediately. We want another nurse. 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 265 
 
 His breathing is with difficulty and pain. His sleep 
 and appetite fail — his looks are pale and wan — 
 his whole frame is sinking — his mind seems very 
 calm and composed, but he still says nothing. 
 I am persuaded that a great deal more has passed 
 within than we know of, and that of an excellent 
 kind. Peace and grace be with him and you, and 
 with 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. R. 
 
 ‘‘P. S. Since I wrote the above, I have had a 
 very long, free, unreserved conversation with our 
 dear boy, most affectionate, and affecting, and close 
 to the great point. It is an immense relief to my 
 mind. He is to me an interesting mixture of an- 
 xiety and hope. His language sometimes resem- 
 bles that of your own letter ; at other times he 
 can trust more. Oh ! that I might see both my 
 beloved children, yea, all of them, living by faith 
 on the Son of God. By grace are ye saved, 
 through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the 
 gift of God. 
 
 “ Willy’s most distressing symptom is a kind 
 of suffocating feeling. We know not what this 
 may produce. You will not be surprised at my 
 distress. Do not wait for an escort, but trust 
 providence for a safe journey home. 
 
266 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 (Tuesday) 
 
 ‘‘You will be anxious to hear how the dear boy 
 is to-day. He is extremely ill in body, and ex- 
 ceedingly well in mind — in a peculiarly holy frame. 
 He slept a little in the arm-chair last night, but 
 his decay is rapid. He wishes to talk with you 
 on many subjects. I hope he may have strength 
 at intervals to do so. His conversations with me 
 have been most valuable and interesting : praised 
 be God ! I am so comforted by my dear boy’s 
 unreserved communications, that I frequently for- 
 get the pain of parting. Who could be so selfish 
 as to wish to stop his journey to heaven. Yet how 
 trying to nature is the idea of parting with him. 
 Well, under every bereavement and separation 
 
 from others, forget not, my dear F the use you 
 
 may always make of your father who loves you. 
 You also have been too reserved towards him, 
 for he is indeed and indeed, 
 
 Your own affectionate parent, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 “ My mother was still at B , to which place 
 
 she had been summoned to attend the dying bed 
 of her own parent, and my father wrote to beg 
 her return. 
 
 “ My dear love, 
 
 “ Our dear Willy’s weakness has increased with 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 267 
 
 such unexpected rapidity within the last three 
 days, that I wish you to return home immediately. 
 He is exceedingly anxious that you should not 
 delay an hour in coming to him. Amidst my great 
 anxieties, I have the pleasure of telling you that 
 the spell of silence is happily broken between us, 
 and he has opened his whole heart to me. He 
 is in a very anxious but hopeful frame of mind. 
 By our mutual conversation of yesterday and 
 to-day I am relieved from a heavy burden. All 
 the nameless pangs of my mind, during the last 
 eight months, have been almost blotted out of 
 my remembrance by my present consolations. 
 My prayers are answered at last, the door 
 of utterance is opened, and I am truly thankful. 
 Your mind as well as mine has long anticipated 
 the probable result of this sickness. We must 
 go to the strong-hold for help, and we shall not 
 fail to find it. I am staying from church to 
 enjoy a sabbath with our dear boy ; he has had 
 a very bad night, chiefly in the arm-chair, the 
 fever has been excessively high, and the pulse 
 at the utmost. But take comfort from the state of 
 his mind. It is truly interesting. All its natural 
 superiority mingles with its spiritual characteris- 
 tics. He that once comforted you in your own 
 dangerous sickness will comfort you in the dis- 
 tress of your soul. Let us trust God in overruling 
 
268 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 all for the best. When not oppressed by debility 
 and pain, Willy’s countenance beams with sweet 
 smiles of composure and love. He often inquires 
 when you may be expected : * * Of my 
 
 other feelings I can say but little. No one but 
 God knows all that has passed in my heart for 
 more than eight months, I may say years, con- 
 cerning Wilberforce, but God is good and gracious. 
 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 “ All reserve was now banished from my brother’s 
 mind. He opened his whole heart to his father, 
 told him minutely of all his past conflicts, spoke 
 of his present comforts, and begged that he might 
 be closely examined. He wished to satisfy his 
 parent and pastor that his faith was scriptural and 
 sincere. He seemed to go beyond his strength in 
 conversing — even to extreme exhaustion, and 
 appeared very anxious to tell how God had en- 
 lightened, converted, strengthened, and comforted 
 him. He would sit for hours with his dear 
 father in the study, supported in an easy chair, 
 telling him of all he had gone through — entreating 
 his pardon for the uneasiness he had occasioned 
 him by his past silence, and expressing his great 
 joy at now being able to converse with freedom, 
 and mingle their souls together in the delightful 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 269 
 
 interchange of confidence. It was now that our 
 beloved father was indeed comforted, and that he 
 received a full answer to patient prayer. Edified, 
 refreshed, and soothed by the holy language 
 of his child, his mind was supported under the 
 expected and long-dreaded pang of parting. These 
 conversations, which were continued until increas- 
 ing weakness rendered them impossible, induced 
 my father to form the resolution of writing a 
 memoir of Wilberforce, the imperfect outline 
 of which is all that is left to us. I have often 
 heard my father and brother give the same opinion 
 of the reserve which occasioned so much pain on 
 both sides, and to which frequent allusion has 
 been made. They considered it as God’s way of 
 dealing with a peculiar state of mind — intended to 
 humble the pride of the understanding, and silence 
 a love of argument. It was the Holy Spirit, as 
 a sovereign, converting without human agency. 
 Wilberforce said, that for more than three months, 
 he had never looked into any book but the Bible ; 
 that God’s word had been his only study, and 
 that amidst all his anxiety, often amounting to 
 agony of mind, he could find no relief, either from 
 religious books or religious conversation ; but was 
 obliged to go to the Bible for every thing he 
 wanted to know : — that whenever he opened the 
 Bible, he turned verse after verse into prayer as 
 
270 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 he read, and that in so doing he felt a force, a 
 sweetness and consolation passing all understand- 
 ing, — that though he knew he had a father who 
 loved him tenderly, and was so able and willing 
 to instruct him and remove his perplexities, he 
 felt himself as one who was spell-bound, and 
 could not break silence — and so he retired to his 
 solitary chamber to weep and struggle on in dark- 
 ness — until the Holy Spirit became his teacher, 
 shewing him the piercing spirituality of a perfect 
 law ; amidst conviction and terror of conscience, 
 leading him to the cross to seek for mercy through 
 him that was crucified upon it ; and enabling him 
 to receive the promise of free salvation in Christ 
 by his blood and righteousness unto justification. 
 I have built, he would say, all my hopes for 
 eternity on God’s word, which is unerring truth. 
 I have found peace there, and have been sealed 
 by the Spirit which indited that word, an earnest 
 of the heavenly inheritance. It was without 
 human aid, that I might give God the glory. 
 
 I have mentioned to you some interesting con- 
 versations which passed at this time between 
 Wilberforce and my dear father. The following 
 paper in my father’s hand-writing, is the only one 
 sufficiently connected for insertion. 
 
 Subjects of conversation with me on Friday. — 
 
 ‘‘ Warburton — examination of evidences — ac- 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 271 
 
 knowledgement of errors — God’s reasons for taking 
 him away from the ministry — prayer — Christ’s 
 love — God’s way of humbling pride — infidel 
 temptations — on mere educational religion — his 
 secret conflict for four years past between love 
 of science and love of religion.” 
 
 On Saturday he expressed a wish to see our 
 family surgeon ; ‘‘ not,” said he, ‘‘ that I want 
 medicine, which will do me no good, but I wish for 
 his opinion of the progress of the disorder ; it will 
 be a great satisfaction to me to know precisely, 
 how long he thinks I may live. My strength 
 fails, yet the symptoms vary very much.” The 
 surgeon arrived in the evening. Willy conversed 
 freely with him, and begged him to be open and 
 
 explicit. Mr. saw clearly that he was now 
 
 in the last stage of consumption, and he was sur- 
 prised at the cheerful and unembarrassed manner 
 with which he discoursed on his present situation. 
 I left them together for a few minutes. On my 
 re-entering the room, I was struck with his 
 countenance, which presented a mixture of calm 
 and lively satisfaction, as he was conversing with 
 his medical attendant, who on his return to the 
 family spoke with great feeling of his patient. 
 He said, ‘ the danger is imminent, though it is 
 impossible to say how long he may remain,’ and 
 added, ' I have scarcely ever witnessed so much 
 
272 
 
 THE LATTER DAYS 
 
 cheerfulness and composure in any one in the 
 prospect of death ; certainly never in so young a 
 person.’ # * * * x returned to 
 
 my son, who said that Mr. ’s visit had afforded 
 
 much relief to his feelings. I see what he thinks 
 of my case, and it was right I should know it.” 
 There was a union of thoughtfulness and serenity 
 in his manner which affected me exceedingly, 
 but it filled me with gratitude and thankfulness 
 to witness in this well-ordered and calm state 
 of mind, an evidence of God’s work, and of a divine 
 change. He observed, I have no expectation 
 of any advantage from medicine, but it may 
 palliate distressing symptoms. The great Physi- 
 cian alone will regulate all for the best, both for 
 body and soul. Oh ! I want to trust him more 
 and more !” 
 
 ‘‘ In the evening, as we were sitting alone in 
 the study, I asked him whether he had read the 
 book I had put into his hands, and whether he 
 had found its contents satisfactory. Instead of 
 giving any direct reply to this question, he looked 
 at me with an earnest expression of countenance, 
 and said, ‘ Papa, do not be afraid ; I wish you to 
 examine me. I am anxious neither to deceive, nor 
 be deceived in respect of my spiritual estate. You 
 cannot be too plain with me.’ I had been for a 
 long time past earnestly longing for a full dis- 
 
OF WILBERFORCE. 
 
 273 
 
 closure of his thoughts, but his reserve had 
 hitherto kept me from all knowledge of his real 
 state. In answer to questions of a personal 
 nature, he would only reply, ‘ I hardly know 
 what to say ; another time I may tell better.’ On 
 religious subjects in general he never refused to 
 converse freely, but he shrank from every attempt 
 at personal application. I was therefore delighted 
 when he thus voluntarily afforded me an oppor- 
 tunity of knowing the secret state of his mind, 
 for which I had long and most anxiously 
 prayed. I told him how much I had wished to 
 gain his confidence, and feared I had not urged 
 him to freedom of intercourse with sufficient 
 earnestness. Indeed, papa,” he said, ‘‘ the fault 
 was not yours. I have felt a backwardness, par- 
 ticularly of late, to disclose what was passing in 
 my mind, and had you pressed me more than you 
 have done, to speak of myself, I believe you would 
 have failed to have obtained your object. But now 
 I feel quite at liberty to talk of myself ; and I first 
 tell you that I think I see God’s design in keeping 
 me thus shut up from you. It was his gracious 
 purpose to teach me, in the privacy and solitude 
 of inward meditation, my state as a sinner, and 
 the nature of salvation by a Saviour ; here I learnt 
 the deep things of God, and now I would come 
 forth and tell you what Christ has done for my 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 soul.” His countenance brightened as he uttered 
 these words ; a tear dropped from his cheek, and 
 his eye glistened with animation, as he said, I 
 have had great exercises of mind of late, but God 
 has been very merciful to me in the midst of them.” 
 
 And what, said I, are your present feelings, 
 my dear boy ?” ‘‘I feel, papa, he replied, more 
 
 hope than joy. I have read of ecstacies in the 
 view of dying, which others have experienced, and 
 to which I am still a stranger ; but I have a hope 
 founded on the word of God, which cheers and 
 supports me. I know in whom I have trusted, 
 and I believe he will neither leave nor forsake me. 
 I am not afraid of death ; but as I think my time 
 will not be long, I wish to put myself first into 
 the Lord’s hand, and then into yours, that you 
 may search and try me, whether I am in any 
 error.” Such an important moment was not to 
 be neglected. I received my child’s confidence 
 as an answer to many an anxious and earnest 
 prayer which I had offered up to God, and I 
 resolved to use it, as affording an opportunity 
 of peculiar interest to us both. Satisfied as I had 
 long been with the general view of his religious 
 and moral character, strengthened by a discovery 
 of many evidences of inward principle, still, when 
 I considered the near approach of death and 
 eternity — the value of an immortal soul — the 
 
HIS FATHER. 
 
 275 
 
 danger of spiritual delusion, and my own immea- 
 surable responsibility as a parent, I resolved to 
 leave nothing unsaid or untried, which would 
 bring our hearts into mutual repose on the great 
 subject of salvation, and my dear child’s personal 
 interest therein. 
 
 I found his mind perfectly clear as to the 
 great principle of his acceptance with God, solely 
 and unequivocally through the death and right- 
 eousness of Christ. In the most simple and 
 satisfactory manner he renounced all dependance 
 upon every word and deed of his own. It is, 
 said he, as a guilty sinner before God, that I 
 throw myself on his mercy. I have no excuse 
 to offer for myself, no plea to put in why God 
 should not utterly destroy me, but that Jesus died 
 to save, to pardon, and to bless me. It is his 
 free gift, and not my deserving. Oh ! papa, what 
 would become of me if salvation was by works ? 
 What have I ever done, and above all, what in 
 my present state could I now do, to merit any 
 thing at his hands ? God forbid that I should 
 rest on such a flimsy, fallacious system of divinity,’ 
 as that which ascribes merit to man. I have no 
 merit. I can have none. I thank God I have 
 long known this. I fear many trust in themselves, 
 and thus rob Christ of his glory. Is not this 
 true, papa ? ” 
 
276 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 “ Yes, my dear Wilberforce, many do deceive 
 themselves, and build for eternity on a wrong 
 foundation. But I have endeavoured to impress 
 on your mind from your childhood, that salvation 
 by grace, and not of works, is the peculiar feature 
 of the gospel of Christ ; and do you not now see 
 that this is the doctrine of the Bible ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, papa, and it is because, after long and 
 repeated study of the Bible, I have found the 
 doctrine there, that I believe, and am now com- 
 forted by it. You will pardon my saying that the 
 opinions which I have formed, and the doctrines 
 on which I rest, have not been imbibed from 
 the sermons I have heard, or the books which 
 I have read, but from a close study of the 
 scriptures themselves. I have been accustomed 
 to bring sermons and books to the test of the 
 Bible, and not the Bible to them. You cannot 
 think what light and comfort I have found in 
 reading God’s own word. I never found any 
 thing like it from any other book.” 
 
 “I particularly inquired into the history of his 
 mind for more than three years past, in reference 
 to those sceptical temptations which he had for- 
 merly described to me ; and whether he had been 
 lately tried by the same doubts and difficulties in 
 respect of the truth of the scriptures.” Never,” 
 replied he ; no, never. From the time to which 
 
HIS FATHER. 
 
 277 
 
 you allude, I have felt the most perfect reliance 
 on the word of God ; and by much reading of it, 
 and praying over it, I have been so confirmed in 
 my persuasion of its divine origin, as not to have 
 had my confidence once shaken since that period. 
 I have been tried deeply in other respects, but I 
 have never again varied on that important ques- 
 tion. The book of God, by God’s blessing on its 
 contents, has proved its own heavenly character 
 to my understanding. How thankful I feel for 
 this ! ” 
 
 A flush of hectic fever occasioned at this 
 moment a short period of debility, and he paused 
 for a few minutes. He soon resumed his affect- 
 ing conversation, and said, ‘‘ I am not ignorant 
 of my besetting sin. It was the pride of the 
 understanding. I always loved to examine tho- 
 roughly into the grounds of an opinion before I 
 received it, and generally, though not always, to 
 be deliberate in coming to a conclusion. This 
 habit has often made me appear over-confident 
 in what I said, and I know you have felt and 
 lamented it. I do entreat your forgiveness of 
 any instance of my folly which has hurt and 
 grieved you.” Then he added, ‘‘ The recollection 
 of it has greatly humbled me ; I trust I have seen 
 my fault, and have not applied in vain to the 
 blood which cleanseth from all sin.” 
 
278 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 I asked him what had been his views of the 
 ministry in case God had spared his life. He 
 replied, ‘‘ You know, papa, it has always been my 
 wish and expectation to be a clergyman, and 
 with this view I have sought to attain various 
 kinds of literary knowledge. I have very often 
 prayed to God to fit me for this office, and I have 
 thought much of the doctrines I should have to 
 preach to others. But I can see a reason why 
 God has put an end to these intentions and pros- 
 pects. He is removing me out of this life, and 
 does not permit me to enter into’ the ministry, 
 lest I should be tempted, from the peculiar turn 
 of my mind, to seek the honour and praise of 
 men in my ministrations, more than God’s glory, 
 and the salvation of sinners. 1 think I can see 
 both wisdom and goodness in this dispensation.” 
 
 ■ I remarked that the same God who had con- 
 vinced him of his danger, could have humbled his 
 heart in a variety of ways, and prepared him for 
 the service of the sanctuary, without endangering 
 his safety ; and doubtless would have done it 
 if he had seen good to have prolonged his life. 
 “ Such discoveries of your own heart, my dear 
 boy, are evidences not only of what God can do, 
 but a pledge of what he would have done for 
 you.” ‘‘ True, papa, but if he is pleased to 
 humble me in the valley of death, may it not be 
 
Ills FATHER. 
 
 279 
 
 safer and happier for me ? The Lord’s way must 
 be the best way.” 
 
 ‘‘He then adverted to another subject. “ I have 
 been much occupied of late,” said he, “ in think- 
 ing of man’s natural depravity, and the deceit- 
 fulness of the human heart. I have discovered 
 it in many things in which we are apt to over- 
 look or make excuses for it. I am sure I have 
 ^ no ground of hope except I stand with St. Paul, 
 and cry out, I am the chief of sinners.” I 
 referred to a conversation which J once had with 
 an individual, who objected to an application 
 of that expression to himself, and said, it was 
 intended only to describe the peculiar circum- 
 stances of St. Paul. “ Then I am sure,” replied 
 Wilberforce, “ that person could not have been 
 rightly convicted of guilt in his own conscience. 
 I do not know what the critics may say on such a 
 passage, but I am quite satisfied that when the 
 heart is opened to itself, the expression, chief of 
 sinners, will not appear too strong to describe its 
 character. I have often heard you say, papa, that 
 the view of religion which most honours God, is 
 that which most debases the sinner, and most 
 exalts the Saviour. I never felt this to be so 
 true as at the present moment.” 
 
 “ His pallid but intelligent countenance as he 
 said this, seemed to express more than he could 
 
280 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 find words to utter. He paused a while and 
 continued, ‘‘ What a comfort I find in this conver- 
 sation with you ! It is such a relief to my mind ! 
 and I am very thankful for it.” My own heart 
 was too responsive to that of my beloved child, 
 not to re-echo his own sentiments. I knelt down 
 and returned thanks to God for the consolation 
 afforded to us both, and prayed earnestly that he 
 would continue to us the same holy interchange 
 of kindred spirit and feelings. 
 
 ‘‘ In another conversation my dear boy ex- 
 pressed great satisfaction at the remembrance 
 of the preparation for the Lord’s Supper, while 
 we resided in the Isle of Bute the preceding 
 summer ; a preparation carried on for several 
 weeks before he first received that sacrament in 
 the Episcopal Chapel of Greenock. He observed 
 that in his daily opportunities of reading and 
 conversing with me, he could seldom express his 
 thoughts with freedom, though he deeply felt 
 the importance of the subject before us, but “ I 
 shall always feel thankful to you, papa, for the 
 diligent and affectionate manner in which you 
 instructed me. I love that book of Mason’s. I 
 shall never forget that day at Greenock Chapel. 
 I was greatly comforted. You preached from 
 Isa. Iv. 1 . “ Ho! every one that thirsteth, come ye 
 to the waters ; and he that hath no money, come 
 
HIS FATHER. 
 
 281 
 
 ye, buy, and eat ; yea, come, buy wine and milk, 
 without money and without price.” — I did indeed 
 thirst for the waters of salvation. Poor Charlotte 
 
 B was there also. Her unexpected death 
 
 affected me much.” 
 
 ‘^What were your thoughts,” I said, “when 
 you wrote those lines in her album the night 
 before you parted from her.” ^ 
 
 “ I thought them,” he replied, “ very suitable 
 to my own feelings, but I little thought she was 
 to realize the sentiment before I did.” “ She has 
 joined her father in a better world,” I said. “Yes, 
 and may I soon be with them ; but God knows 
 best, and I wish to commit myself into his hands, 
 for life or death.” He then sunk for a while into 
 his chair, and dozed. When he awoke he began 
 again to converse. “But, papa, papa, do you indeed 
 think I am on the right foundation ? I cannot bear 
 the thought of being deceived ; but I do think 
 Christ loves me too well to cast me away, and 
 that I may say. Faithful is he that has promised, 
 who also will do it, I love God. I love his word, 
 I love his ways. I love his people, though I feel so 
 
 1 It matters little at what hour of the day 
 The righteous falls asleep. Death eannot eome 
 To him untimely who is lit to die ; 
 
 The less of this eold world, the more of heaven ; 
 
 The briefer life, the earlier immortality. 
 
 Millman. 
 
282 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 unworthy to be counted one of them. Surely such 
 feelings as these do not fit me for hell.'’ An indis- 
 cribable look of animation pervaded his counte- 
 nance as he uttered these words, and bespoke the 
 love, faith, hope, and sincerity of his heart, too 
 plainly to be mistaken. 
 
 “ If,” he continued, “ God meant to destroy me, 
 would he have shewn me these things ? ” 
 
 I am persuaded not,” I answered. “ Manoah’s 
 wife has proved a comforter to many, and I rejoice 
 that her argument for the merciful designs of God 
 prevails with you.” 
 
 ‘‘I am now fatigued, and must go to bed,” said 
 he. ‘‘ Pray with me, and then, good night ! ” 
 
 “ Having the assistance of a much-valued friend 
 to undertake the public services of my church, 
 and feeling great anxiety to avail myself of this 
 opportunity to. devote myself to my son in his 
 critical and alarming state of health, I remained 
 at home with him the whole day. Although much 
 oppressed by the rapidly-increasing progress of 
 disease and consequent debility, yet he was able 
 to engage in some interesting and very important 
 conversations at intervals during the day. He 
 was carried into the study about eleven o’clock. 
 At his breakfast he expressed a hope that there 
 were many now engaged in prayer for him in the 
 congregation assembled for divine service. “ I 
 
HIS FATHER. 
 
 283 
 
 should love to be in the midst of them, but it 
 cannot be now. It never will be in this world. 
 What a comforting consideration, papa, that 
 wherever two or three are gathered together in his 
 name, Christ has promised to be present with 
 them. Do you not think he is here.” I replied, “ I 
 cannot doubt it, my dear boy. It is one of the 
 most consolatory views of the word of God, not 
 only that he is constantly present with every indi- 
 vidual believer, in every place, and under every 
 circumstance, but he is also especially present 
 with all such, however great or small their number, 
 who unite together in acts of worship and religious 
 intercourse. He is alike present at this time with 
 our friends in the church, and with you and me 
 in this room. May God give us grace to realize 
 this and be thankful. 
 
 ‘‘ Soon afterwards, while the servant was remov- 
 ing the breakfast things, I was stirring the fire, as 
 he complained of the cold ; and a short silence 
 ensued. He said presently, with a playful smile, 
 “ I was thinking while you stirred the fire, how 
 much easier it is to rake the ashes from the grate 
 than to get rid of sin from the heart;” and then 
 relapsing into a grave look, he added, “ how often 
 the ashes of sin deaden the flame of religion in the 
 heart.” This remark — originating in an apparently 
 casual incident — led to a close conversation on the 
 
284 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 nature of sin, and the difficulties with which a 
 Christian has to contend in his conflicts with 
 indwelling and inbred corruption. I was much 
 struck with his deep acquaintance with the exer- 
 cises of his own heart, and with the gospel plafi’ 
 of salvation, which he evinced as he continued to 
 dwell on this subject. I rejoiced to observe in 
 him a personal and practical application of the 
 grand truths of revelation to his own heart ; the 
 result of much prayer and meditation, and read- 
 ing of the sacred volume : his inmost thoughts 
 were thrown into our discourses, which manifested 
 a power and demonstration of the Spirit of God 
 far beyond what I ever anticipated. The reserve 
 which had caused me so much solicitude was 
 entirely removed. With a sweet and endearing 
 freedom of heart and tongue he expressed himself 
 so openly, and with such sincerity, as filled me 
 with gratitude, and rendered me for a moment 
 insensible — comparatively insensible — to the pang 
 of bereavement which was soon to be undergone. 
 To possess such satisfactory evidences of my child 
 being an heir of glory, that my temporary loss 
 would prove his eternal gain, and the hope that 
 we should one day meet in the presence of God 
 to part no more, cheered my spirit and tran- 
 quillized my mind, under an affliction otherwise 
 insupportable. 
 
HIS FATHER. 
 
 285 
 
 ‘ " I was making a reference to some expressions 
 in the seventh chapter of the epistle to the Romans, 
 on the nature and character of St. Paul’s own 
 experimental acquaintance with the truths which 
 he enforced on others, when I was summoned to 
 join my other children at the dinner- table. I 
 told him my absence would allow him a respite 
 from the fatigue of conversation, but that I would 
 soon return to him and resume the subject, and 
 begged him to seek repose for a little while in his 
 own arm-chair. This appeared to me the more 
 necessary, as I had observed an evident and painful 
 struggle between the debility of his frame and the 
 animation of his thoughts. The hour of the after- 
 noon service arriving, I returned to my son, whom 
 I found with the Bible opened before him. He 
 looked at me with a smile, and said, ‘‘Well, papa, 
 I have not been asleep. I have been otherwise 
 employed. I revived almost as soon as you left 
 me, and as I wanted to converse with you on the 
 epistle to the Romans, I have been reading through 
 the first eight chapters, whilst you were below, 
 in order that I might have this subject more clear 
 in my recollection.” I was surprised and pleased 
 to find that he had strength sufficient for such an 
 exertion, and I reflect on the circumstance with 
 greater interest, as this was, I believe, the last 
 time he was able to read at all. 
 
286 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 He observed that he had purposely stopped 
 at the eighth chapter, because the apostle had 
 there seemed to make a division in his subject and 
 argument. ‘‘ What a beautiful summary of doctrine 
 these chapters contain, papa ! I have thought on 
 them again and again. St. Paul lays his found- 
 ation deep in the corruption of human nature, and 
 shows so plainly that neither Jew nor Gentile has 
 any hope from works, but only from faith in Christ 
 Jesus. I have found great comfort from that view 
 of the righteousness of Christ, which the apostle 
 declares to be the only way of salvation. There 
 is, there can be, no other. We have no righteous- 
 ness of our own — all are under sin — every mouth 
 must be stopped, and all the world become guilty 
 before God. I have been at times perplexed 
 about the principle of acceptance with God, but 
 now I see it quite clear. With what earnestness 
 does the apostle labour to prove the vanity of all 
 human dependance. I have been thinking as I 
 read these chapters, how entirely the walk of a 
 believer depends on his faith in Christ, and how 
 closely connected the holiness, and the comfort, 
 and the reliance of the soul are with each other. 
 He proceeded to comment on the fifth and sixth 
 chapters, as a train of experimental and practical 
 reasoning deduced from those which preceded 
 them, adding, “but the seventh and eighth chap- 
 
HIS FATHER. 
 
 287 
 
 ters have been my delight. I have found my o^vn 
 case so exactly, and so clearly described in the 
 seventh, and have been so much comforted by St. 
 Paul’s description of his own feelings about sin 
 and Christ, as I can never express. And then the 
 eighth crowns the whole. Oh, what a chapter 
 is that ! Every word has given me instruction, 
 strength, and comfort.” I here said, And can 
 you make an inward application of the latter part 
 of that chapter to yourself? ” ‘‘ Indeed, papa, I 
 
 hope I am not deceiving myself, but I do think 
 I can. It lifts me up with such hope and confi- 
 dence, the language is so sublime, and the doctrine 
 so convincing. It sometimes seems too much for 
 a sinner like me to say ; — but all things are pos- 
 sible with God, and he whom God saves, has a 
 propriety in all things.” He then went through 
 the whole subject of the chapter, making a variety 
 of sensible and solid remarks upon it, and entreat- 
 ing me to examine him as to his personal appli- 
 cation of these glorious and gracious truths to his 
 own heart. After he had made some animated 
 observations on the concluding part of this chap- 
 ter, he said, ‘‘But now I want to add one sentence 
 from another part of the epistle to wind up the 
 whole, and that is, “ Oh ! the depth of the riches 
 both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! how 
 unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways 
 
288 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 past finding out ! For who has known the mind 
 of the Lord ? or who hath been his counsellor ? or 
 who hath first given to him, and it shall be recom- 
 pensed to him again. For of him, and through 
 him, and to him are all things, to whom be glory 
 for ever. Amen.” I shall ever retain a vivid 
 recollection of the tone of his voice, and the spark- 
 ling look of his eye, which accompanied the 
 utterance of these words. He became immedi- 
 ately much exhausted — the difficulty of breathing 
 increased — the fever ran very high — he bent over 
 the table and fell into a doze, which lasted half 
 an hour. He gradually awoke, and I observed 
 him to fix his eyes on a globe of water which 
 stood near the window, and contained a gold fish. 
 I inquired what he was looking at so earnestly. 
 He replied, I have often watched the me- 
 chanical motion of our gold and silver fish in that 
 globe. There is now only one left, and that 
 seems to be weak and sickly. I wonder which 
 of us will live the longest — the fish or I?” He 
 paused, and then added, “ That fish, my dear 
 papa, is supported by the water in the vessel, but 
 I hope I am supported by the waters of salvation. 
 The fish will soon die and live no more ; but if I 
 am upheld by the water of salvation, I shall live 
 for ever.” 
 
 “ His remark led me to make some observations 
 
HIS FATHER. 
 
 289 
 
 on the practical use which may be made of natu- 
 ral objects, and the advantages of cultivating a 
 habit of seeing something of God and the soul 
 every where, and of accustoming the mind to seek 
 such comparisons and allusions as tend to improve 
 and delight it. Wilberforce observed, ‘‘This is 
 the very principle exemplified in our Lord’s 
 parables, and in all the figurative language of 
 scripture.” At this moment a gleam of light from 
 the setting sun shone upon the gold fish, and pro- 
 duced a brilliant reflection from its scales, as it 
 swam in the glass vessel. “ Look,” said he, “ at 
 its beauty now.” “So, my dear boy, may a 
 bright and more glorious sun shine upon you, and 
 gild the evening of your days.” “ I hope,” he 
 replied, “ although I sometimes feel a cloud and a 
 doubt pass across my mind, that in the evening- 
 time there shall be light, and then in his light I 
 shall see light.” 
 
 “ Thus the gold fish furnished us with a kind 
 of parable. It so happened that the fish survived 
 my son two or three weeks, but I never after- 
 wards saw it without a lively recollection of the 
 conversation to which it gave rise ; and the ideas 
 associated with it still mingle with the cherished 
 moments of his latter end.” 
 
 u 
 
290 wilberforce’s life concluded. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 “ How calm their rest, 
 
 Night dews fall not more gently on the ground, 
 
 Nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft/^ 
 
 Blair. 
 
 ‘‘ From this time my brother kept his room, being 
 too weak to be removed to the study. He sat up 
 during a part of the day in his arm-chair, and 
 conversed with his father in the same strain 
 of elevated piety. His mind was at times strong 
 and vigorous, full of faith, rejoicing in the pros- 
 pect of death, his heart trusting in God, — then 
 trembling and leaning on his spiritual guide, who 
 watched over him with the overflowings of ten- 
 derness, gratitude, and love, while his dying son 
 besought him to probe his inmost soul. My 
 father, when with us, usually preserved a dignified 
 composure ; speaking little, and with tears ; 
 pouring forth his soul in the family devotions ; 
 and seeming to say, He will soon leave me, 
 but blessed be the name of the Lord.” 
 
wilberforce’s life concluded. 29 L 
 
 I returned to Turvey on the lOtli of January. 
 My father met me in the hall. He wept much 
 as he told me there was no hope of Willy’s life ; 
 but he soon recovered himself and said that the 
 agony of bereavement was forgotten in the blessed 
 thought, that he had trained up a child for glory. 
 He then took me up-stairs, where I found the dear 
 invalid in a chair before the fire, looking very pale 
 and emaciated, but with a countenance full of 
 peace and love. His eye glistened as I entered. 
 He leaned his head on my shoulder, but was too 
 deeply moved to utter- a word. He continued 
 silent a long time, and scarcely spoke or answered 
 the usual inquiries of affection. In the evening 
 he revived, and seemed disposed to converge. I 
 asked if he could view the approach of death 
 without fear. 
 
 Yes, dear F , I have no wish to stay one 
 
 day longer on earth, but I must not be impa- 
 tient. Lord Jesus I come quickly ! If it be thy 
 will, I would not linger here, but I pray for 
 
 patience. Ah ! F how I long to be free from 
 
 this poor body, and see my Saviour’s face. You 
 can never know how I long for this, till you also 
 have heaven in view. I know in whom I have 
 trusted. He will save me, for he has promised 
 and he never changes.” He then fell into a kind 
 of stupor, murmuring distinctly, Christ the sin- 
 
 U 2 
 
292 wilberforce’s life concluded. 
 
 ner’s hope.” When he awoke, the fever was very 
 high, and his mind seemed to wander. My father 
 entered. He looked up and said, He fights 
 hard, and I fight hard, but Christ fights harder.” 
 He began to pray aloud, struggling for strength 
 and thought, and intreating God that he might not 
 be given up to delirium, of which he had a great 
 dread, and then he praised and blessed God for 
 giving him strength to offer another prayer. 
 
 I sat up with him the greater part of the night. 
 He once startled me with the energy with which 
 after a long silence he cried out, I know in whom 
 I am trusting. I know he never yet left one soul 
 that trusted in him. I will not doubt.” He 
 passed a painful night, with alternate fits of fever 
 and shivering. He continually expressed a fear 
 that the fever would occasion delirium. He 
 felt his time so precious, that he could not bear 
 to lose a moment by insensibility ; he exclaimed 
 with the utmost vehemence, “ O God ! most mer- 
 ciful; — O God! do not afflict me with the greatest 
 of all evils, — insanity. I long to glorify thee in 
 my death. Can I glorify thee in delirium, when 
 I know thee not ? Yet not my will but thine 
 be done.” 
 
 “ About five o’clock on Wednesday morning he 
 said, “ Now call up papa, and ask him to come 
 and talk with me. I feel as if I should have much 
 
wilberforce’s life concluded. 293 
 
 to suffer to-day, and I want him here that I may 
 call up some comfort and strength.” He came 
 immediately. I retired and did not hear their 
 conversation. My father has more than once 
 told me of the interesting subjects of their dis- 
 course, but I am afraid to trust to recollection at 
 this distance of time. 1 again regret that my 
 beloved father did not live to fulfil his own 
 intentions. I extract from his very imperfect 
 notes, what may possibly apply to their present 
 interview. 
 
 I read Hooker’s death to him — substantial 
 calm on his mind, only interrupted for the 
 moment by disease — he told me of his grapplings 
 with infidel objections — of his weeping when a 
 little child, at a sermon I preached from Jere- 
 miah.” 1 
 
 ‘‘ After breakfast I returned to relieve my 
 father, who, amidst his daily sufferings, was 
 not unmindful of his family or his parish. I 
 must work while it is called to-day '' seemed to be 
 the prevailing sentiment of his mind, and his 
 beloved child’s death gave additional weight to 
 the admonition, ‘‘ what thou doest, do it with all 
 thy might.” 
 
 ^ Jer. iii.22. Return! thou backsliding Israel, saith the Lord, 
 and I will not cause mine anger to fall upon you ; for I am mer- 
 ciful, vsaith the Lord, and I will not keep mine anger for ever. 
 
21)4 wilberforce’s life concluded. 
 
 ‘‘ Wilberforce sat silent for some time, then 
 looked up and said, Come, and sit close to me. 
 Let me lean on you.” Then putting his arms round 
 me, he exclaimed, “ God bless you, my dear” — He 
 was agitated and ceased speaking. Presently he 
 said — I must leave you — we shall walk no further 
 through this world together — but I hope we shall 
 meet in heaven. Let us now talk of heaven. Do 
 not weep for me, dear F — , do not weep, for I am 
 very happy ; but think of me, and let the thought 
 make you press forward. I never knew happi- 
 ness till I knew Christ as a Saviour.” He then 
 exhorted and encouraged me to study the Bible 
 with perseverance. “ Read the Bible — read the 
 Bible. Let no religious book take its place;- — 
 through all my perplexities and distresses, I 
 never read any other book, and I never felt the 
 want of any other. It has been my hourly study, 
 and all my knowledge of the doctrines, and all 
 my acquaintance with the experience and realities 
 of religion have been derived from the Bible 
 only. I think religious people do not read the 
 Bible enough. Books about religion may be 
 useful, but they will not do instead of the 
 simple truth of the Bible.” He then spoke of 
 his regret at parting with us. Nothing convinces 
 me more of the reality of the change within me, 
 than the feelings with which I can contemplate a 
 
wilberforce’s life concluded. 295 
 
 separation from my family. I now feel so weaned 
 from the earth, my affections so much in heaven, 
 that I can leave you all without a regret. Yet I 
 do not love you less, but God more.’’ I asked 
 him whether his mind had been distressed for the 
 last few months at the thought of parting from 
 us, — for knowing the strength of his affections, I 
 fancied he must have suffered much in subduing 
 
 and controlling them. Oh ! my dear F , 
 
 the pain, the agony I have felt, when I said to 
 myself ‘ I must leave them all.’ — You will never 
 know what bitter hours I have passed ; — none but 
 God knows what it cost me to break those ties 
 which bound me so strongly to earth. Never, 
 never will you know what I suffered, as I looked 
 at you all, and felt my strength declining, and 
 remembered it must soon be a last look. I thought 
 this must be the bitterness of death ; and even after 
 I had found acceptance and peace with God, I 
 still suffered deeply in the prospect of separation, 
 and never supposed I could willingly part from 
 my family. I knew that God would support me, 
 and carry me through this trial ; but a trial I felt 
 it must be to the last ; — and yet, see me now in 
 the immediate prospect of parting — I am quite 
 happy, and can leave you all without a tear — I 
 know God can unite us all again — and I can 
 trust him here as I can in every thing else. Now 
 
296 wilberforce’s life concluded* 
 
 this change must have been effected by God. It 
 is so evident, I cannot mistake it. I could not 
 have acquired this composure myself, God has 
 done it, but I have suffered much in the process.” 
 He always appeared comforted when he heard 
 that any one had prayed for him, and frequently 
 intreated those about him to pray, but he used to 
 add, ‘‘ Do not pray for my life, but that I may 
 
 have comfort in death.” I was writing to W 
 
 and asked him if he had any message to send. 
 He said, ‘‘ They have been very kind to me, but I 
 am too ill to think of them.” Afterwards seeming 
 to recollect himself, he said, “ Come and hold my 
 head while I try to remember them. I would 
 
 send some message. Tell dear M that I am 
 
 suffering very much, but I can and do rejoice in 
 my sufferings, for every pain is bringing me nearer 
 to heaven. I shall not see her again in this 
 world ; ” here he seemed quite exhausted. After 
 a while he revived a little. “ I want to say 
 
 something to dear Mr. W , you told me he had 
 
 been praying for me. I wish him to know how 
 much I have been comforted by this. How 
 grateful I feel to him, tell him how much I value 
 his prayers, and that they have been answered ; 
 for Christ is now precious to me. Through him 
 the fear of death is taken away. I want to tell 
 him more. If I can I will to-morrow, but say 
 
wilberforce’s life concluded. 
 
 297 
 
 this.” He now became exceedingly ill ; he 
 breathed with great difficulty ; he panted for 
 breath, and his struggles were distressing. The 
 sufferings of his body affected his mind, and he 
 seemed to lose his comfort and confidence in 
 Christ. He cried out many times, ‘‘ Oh ! pray 
 for me, pray for me, pray for me. This is hard 
 to bear, how different the pains of death are 
 from any other. It is such a struggle to get free.” 
 He appeared to suffer much in his mind. My 
 father said, My dear boy, Christ is still with 
 you. Where he once fixes his love, he never 
 takes it away. You may not see him just now, 
 but he is not the less near to you. Nothing can, 
 nothing shall separate you from Christ.” Willy 
 cried out, “ And did not he say, ‘‘ My God, my 
 God, why hast thou forsaken me ? ” Then he 
 twice repeated ‘‘ For a small moment have I 
 forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I 
 gather thee.” ‘‘Oh! papal — what shall I do — I 
 am suffering so very much 1 ” “ Not one pang too 
 many, my child,” said his weeping father, while 
 the big tears rolled down his cheek. “ 1 know it, 
 papa,” he answered, “ I believe it, I feel it.” 
 He continued in a state of suffering nearly the 
 whole day. Towards evening he sank into a sort 
 of lethargy. He seemed scarcely to know any 
 thing that was passing. About eleven o’clock at 
 
.298 wilberforce’s life concluded. 
 
 night my father read the 23rd Psalm, and 
 prayed with him. He was able to attend, and 
 it seemed to cheer him. He was better in the 
 morning, and had much comfortable conversa- 
 tion with his father throughout the day. Mr. 
 
 G came to see him. Willy wished to converse 
 
 with him. He was fearful at- first, and expressed 
 
 some doubt of his salvation ; but Mr. G 
 
 encouraged him by his remarks. He assured 
 him that Christ would never give up a soul who 
 had fled to him for refuge. Here Willy inter- 
 rupted him, I believe it, yes, I believe it. Christ 
 has brought me thus far, and he will not leave 
 me. He has said, whosoever cometh unto me, 
 I will in no wise cast out.” I feel now quite cer- 
 tain that Christ will save me.” He then adverted 
 to his love for us, and the parting with us. ‘‘We 
 have been a happy family ; — so closely united ! 
 Every two of us can say, how dearly we love 
 each other — Our love has been more than com- 
 mon — I think we shall be a family of love in 
 heaven — Two of us are in heaven already, and 
 there will soon be a third — Oh, I feel persuaded 
 
 we shall meet again.” Mr. G proposed to read 
 
 a chapter in the Bible. Willy said he could 
 
 listen, and Mr. G chose parts of the two last 
 
 chapters of the book of Revelations. He ap- 
 peared greatly refreshed. His face beamed with 
 
wilberforce’s life concluded. 299 
 
 joy while he listened to the sublime and glorious 
 description of the new Jerusalem, and anticipated 
 the moment of his own entrance into' the holy 
 city, to go out no more for ever ; when he should 
 join the melody of the heavenly choir, and make 
 one of the countless throng before the throne of 
 God. ‘‘ Glorious things are spoken of thee, O 
 city of God.” After a short pause, he said to Mr. 
 
 G , Tell me about the song of Moses and the 
 
 Lamb, my memory is failing. Repeat it to me.” 
 
 Mr. G repeated from Rev. xv. ‘‘ Great and 
 
 marvellous are thy works. Lord God Almighty ; 
 just and true are thy ways, O King of Saints ; 
 who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy 
 name, for thou only art holy ; for all nations shall 
 come and worship before thee, for thy judgments 
 are made manifest.” 
 
 Mr.. G took leave of him, and some time 
 
 after his departure, Willy said, Mr. G— seemed 
 sent to bring the close of the Bible to be the con- 
 solation of the close of my life. It is singular that 
 he should have fixed on those chapters, for I have 
 read them so often ; again and again in my hours 
 of sorrow, longing, praying, but not daring to 
 believe I should ever be admitted to that glorious 
 company ; how have I wept over them ! ” 
 
 Mr. F. paid him a visit, and Wilberforce was 
 very earnest in pressing him to examine the state 
 
300 IMPORTANT CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 of his mind, saying I would neither deceive nor 
 be deceived.” Mr. F — replied, You are now 
 too much exhausted for conversation ; I have 
 heard from your papa the state of your mind, and 
 I am quite satisfied with his opinion of you, for 
 our ideas of true conversion are the same.” 
 ‘‘Yes,” said he, “but I would rather you should 
 examine me for yourself, — I want you also to 
 search me.” 
 
 “ He asked Mr. F — whether the feeling of 
 assurance was necessary to salvation. “I do 
 not,” he said, “ always feel alike ; sometimes when 
 illness overpowers me, my comfort is gone, and I 
 am afraid that after all I shall perish ; but I know 
 that in my darkest season I still love my Saviour 
 above every thing.” 
 
 “ My dear Wilberforce,” said Mr. F , “ you 
 
 cannot have a more able counsellor in your perplex- 
 ities, than your affectionate father, and your very 
 weak state inclines me to be brief. Our religion * 
 may be explained in few words, at least as far as 
 it is necessary to your peace and safety. You must 
 have a title to heaven, and a meetness for its 
 enjoyment ; you need not now trouble yourself 
 on other points. The title is Christ’s merits. Do 
 you rest on them alone for acceptance with God ? ” 
 
 “ Oh yes ; I have no other hope or trust. If I 
 have confidence or comfort, I get it only there.” 
 
THE MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY. 
 
 301 
 
 Well, then, the next thing is a meetness for 
 heaven. If any man belong to Christ he has the 
 mind of Christ ; he is a new creature ; religion is 
 his life as well as his peace.” Indeed, indeed,” 
 he replied, I do love Christ ; I long to be where 
 he is, to dwell with him for ever.” Then all is 
 safe, Wilberforce ; I am quite satisfied that he who 
 has worked the one in you, has procured the other 
 for you.” But your eye, Mr. F — , your eye 
 looks as if it doubted of me.” ‘‘ No, my dear 
 Wilberforce, I am not doubting, I am looking on 
 you with a deep interest.” 
 
 Mr. F — went away with a promise to see 
 him again in a few days, but my brother died 
 before the time fixed for another visit. 
 
 “He slept for some time, and then suddenly 
 sat up in his chair with apparent ease ; he 
 breathed freely, spoke distinctly,- seemed free from 
 pain, and his countenance looked satisfied and 
 happy. I was quite surprised at the change, and 
 said, “ My dear Willy, you seem much better.” 
 “ Yes,” he answered, “ I am much better. This 
 is a precious moment, and now I hope I shall be 
 able to talk to you a little. This is an answer to 
 
 prayer, dear F . I have much longed to glorify 
 
 God in my death, and ever since last Sunday I 
 have been praying for one hour of ease and 
 strength to speak to you all for the last time, and 
 
302 
 
 IMPORTANT CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 tell you what I now think of the importance 
 of religion. Hitherto you have seen me so over- 
 powered by disease, that, you could not judge 
 of my comfort and confidence in my principles. 
 But God has granted my request, and I will 
 glorify him.” He then began an interesting con- 
 versation, and spoke with astonishing ease. 
 He was very plain and sincere. He told me 
 kindly of faults and errors which he had observed 
 in me ; and he endeavoured to correct them, and 
 encouraged me from his own experience to per- 
 severe in striving against them. ‘‘ My dear, my 
 very dear F — ” he said, I hope we shall meet in 
 heaven. I could not talk to you in this calm 
 manner, if I did not believe we should meet 
 again. But you have much to learn — much to 
 do before you can get there. There is but one 
 road, and without an entire dedication of the 
 heart to God, you cannot walk in it.” He spoke 
 of the dangers of a religious education ; of having 
 the form of religion, while the heart was still 
 unchanged, and the will unsubdued. He spoke 
 also of what he called sentimental religion, telling 
 me how easy it was to write in beautiful poetic 
 language without any real feeling of heart ; and 
 he mentioned some instances where religion was 
 but a bright fiction of the imagination ; and others 
 where it proved itself a transforming principle in 
 
THE MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY. 
 
 303 
 
 the life and conduct. “ My dear sister, be a real 
 disciple — Be in earnest — You will want heart 
 religion when- you come to die — The ‘‘poetry 
 of religion will not do then — reminding me 
 of some letters I had written to him. He again 
 recommended to me most earnestly the constant 
 study of the Bible. “ Here,” he said, “ I speak in 
 a peculiar manner from recent experience — For 
 the last three months the Bible has been my sole 
 instructor — It has gradually led me on to clear 
 light and real experience, till every promise is my 
 own — have read the greater part of it through 
 several times during my illness — and often on a 
 Sunday, when I have spent the day alone, I have 
 read the whole of the New Testament, unable to 
 leave off till I had grasped all the mind of the 
 Spirit at once. Perhaps papa has thought I read 
 too few religious books — He has looked anxious 
 at my neglect of many he put in my way — I do' 
 not give myself in this respect for an example — 
 but I have found little benefit from books, ser- 
 mons, or conversations — The Bible, the Bible 
 alone has taught me every thing. If I read books 
 on religion, however excellent, the thought always 
 haunted me — this is human — it may be wrong. 
 I could not rest till I went to the Bible. Here 
 I felt all was divine and infallible ; and I found 
 such coinfort in the simple truth of God’s word. 
 
304 
 
 IMPORTANT CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 that I set aside every other book, dissatisfied. I 
 may be earnest then, in pressing you to go 
 to the Bible.” 
 
 He then said, ‘‘ But you must pray over the 
 Bible — without the teaching of the Spirit it will 
 do you no good, you must apply it as you go on 
 to yourself, and feel it personally, or you will get 
 no benefit, though you stand the whole day over 
 it. — I have been in the habit of reading the Bible 
 on my knees, and I recommend you to do the 
 same. — It encourages prayer. — I have found it 
 very useful to turn Scripturp into prayer, using the 
 very words. There is not a psalm I have not 
 turned into a prayer. — I have felt so safe in mak- 
 ing prayers from the Bible because then I knew I 
 could not err ; and let prayer always be preceded 
 by self-examination ; lay your heart bare before 
 God ; indulge not even a doubtful feeling ; one 
 secret sin will cloud all.” 
 
 I had marked the depression of his spirit when 
 the symptoms of his disease appeared more unfa- 
 vourable, and I asked him if he had any fear of 
 death now. He answered me with great firmness, 
 — "‘No, not any — I have unshaken confidence in 
 Jesus as a Saviour — He has taken away the sting 
 of death, and for his sake the Father will receive 
 me as his child.” I replied, “ You had, dear Willy, 
 great doubts of your salvation, and many fears of 
 
THE MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY. 305 
 
 death during some periods of your illness.” Oh ! 
 yes, indeed I had ! I have been on the verge of 
 despair, and have known its agonies. — My pain of 
 body was at times very great, but nothing in com- 
 parison with the agony of my spirit. — I struggled 
 on in darkness and in silence. — It was known only 
 to myself and God, but I was supported and carried 
 through all, and now I would’ encourage you, my 
 dearest sister, by telling you what succeeded in 
 my case. I will tell you just what I did. — After 
 a season of much doubt and terror, during which 
 I felt as if all was delusion, and I should be cast 
 into hell, I determined to go at once boldly to 
 God, in the name of Christ, and plead the pro- 
 mises which were then before me in the Bible. — I 
 fell down upon my knees — I groaned — I wept — I 
 prayed most fervently — I said. Here I am, Lord, a 
 poor perishing sinner — My sins are heavy and 
 alarming — I cannot bear them myself— I feel my 
 body decaying — I must soon die, and I dare not 
 appear before Thee, the pure and holy God, as I 
 now am — I read of a Saviour thou hast provided for 
 sinners, and I come to him to be saved from eter- 
 nal death — I come to the cross of Christ — I cling 
 to it as my only hope — If thou, O Christ, wilt not 
 save me, no one else can, and I must perish— Lord, 
 save me — Jesus ! have mercy on me ! I persevered 
 thus again and again — I kept on praying in this 
 
 X 
 
306 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 way — I took nothing with me but a broken heart ! 
 and a contrite spirit, and I said, " Lord ! I will not 
 go except thou bless me !’ I know I prayed sin- 
 cerely, and I was heard and answered. I found 
 that promise true, ‘‘ Whosoever cometh unto me, I 
 will in no wise cast out.” God was good to me. 
 My soul required severe discipline, but he com- 
 forted me in his own time — I found Christ able 
 and willing to do all I required — I was enabled 
 to receive him as my complete salvation, and I 
 sometimes had such peace in believing on him, 
 — such hours of unspeakable happiness, that the 
 remembrance of it makes up for all this suffering. 
 I never again lost my hope in Christ, though for 
 the moment my disease overpowered me and 
 clouded the past. Now I tell you all this for 
 your encouragement and direction. Seek as I did, 
 and you shall find the same pardon for sin, the 
 same peace in death.” We next talked about 
 prayer. I told him of the difficulties I felt. I 
 remember well his eager look as he said, ‘'Not 
 find comfort in prayer, dear F — ? It sounds like a 
 strange contradiction to me— It is "my only com- 
 fort. When I am able to pray, I am sure to be 
 happy, and my prayer is that I may have strength 
 and sense to pray. But I must remember how 
 differently we are circumstanced — I am just en- 
 tering eternity — I see every thing in a new 
 
THE MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY. 
 
 307 
 
 light, as I never did before — as none but a dying 
 person can see — All my thoughts and feelings 
 are changed — I have not memory now to recol- 
 lect how I used to feel, when I first began to 
 pray — Perhaps I had the same doubts — my 
 memory is gone — Oh! how the Lord has humbled 
 me — I used to be so proud of my understanding — 
 I can now scarcely answer the simplest question.” 
 Presently he seemed to gather strength, and said. 
 We were talking about prayer ; yes, all my 
 comfort is in prayer. There must be comfort in 
 prayer — The chief thing is to examine your 
 heart — Ask God to search it for you — Take care 
 you are cherishing no secret sin or hidden idol. 
 God is a merciful God, but he is a jealous God, 
 and he will have the whole heart — Only per- 
 severe in praying, and indeed you will find com- 
 fort in prayer.” He then told me how seriously it 
 had been impressed upon his mind, that his death 
 was to be the life of others. “ I think, my dearly 
 loved sister, it is for your good ; and will not this 
 thought make you more in earnest? Oh! I would 
 die ten painful deaths to save one soul! We shall 
 meet again in heaven. Now come and kiss me, 
 and let me lean upon you.” He rested a short time 
 
 and said, ‘‘ Now send for H , I want to speak 
 
 to her while my strength lasts.” His conversa- 
 tion with her was very searching, but- very 
 
308 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 affectionate. He loved this sister very dearly. 
 She was naturally volatile and buoyant in her 
 spirits, and this disposition sometimes betrayed 
 her into levity. The liveliness of her conversa- 
 tion had often pleased him, but he now thought 
 he had encouraged her in some things incon- 
 sistent with real piety. He was earnest beyond 
 his strength in conversing with her. He put very 
 plain and close questions ; — saying, I must be 
 answered ; — I must speak plainly ; — I am afraid, 
 my beloved sister, you do not think enough about 
 religion. I do not see decided proofs of real 
 conversion in you. I have not a sure hope, that 
 if you die as you now are, I shall meet you in 
 
 heaven. Oh ! H , it is my last request — with 
 
 my dying breath I am intreating you to seek the 
 salvation of your soul. Suppose you were in my 
 place — in this chair instead of me — waiting for 
 death day by day — could you meet it as I do. 
 Oh ! do, my dear sister ! do think of death while 
 you are in health. If I had not sought Christ 
 before I was brought so low, I should have no 
 strength or sense to seek him now. I went to 
 Jesus as a poor weak sinner, and found sweet rest, 
 and I am happy now amidst all this suffering.” 
 He spoke in a very affectionate manner of the 
 subject nearest her heart. Your merry peal 
 will soon succeed my death -knell. Take care that 
 
THE MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY. 
 
 309 
 
 the good seed is not choked by the pleasures of 
 life! — Seek first the kingdom of God. Remember! 
 
 H , you have to die. Oh ! I cannot leave you in 
 
 peace, unless I have a good hope that I shall meet 
 you in heaven. If I thought there w^as one 
 amongst you — oh ! I cannot bear that thought! — 
 
 He continued, H , there is nothing so 
 
 opposed to religion, — to the mind of Christ, — as 
 levity and trifling. It will keep you back more 
 than anything. Take my solemn warning — I 
 speak from my own experience, — you will never 
 be a consistent Christian, and you will never 
 grow in grace, if you indulge in habitual trifling- 
 conversation. It is not like the mind of Christ ; 
 your temper is very playful and volatile, and 
 Satan may use it as a snare to injure your 
 soul. Piety and levity cannot long dwell in the 
 same heart. One will destroy the other. * * 
 
 * * ^ You see, dear H— — , I am very 
 
 plain and sincere. I used to be so shy. But 
 I do not feel afraid of speaking my mind now. 
 How little does one care about the >vorld and 
 its opinions when death is near ; — death takes 
 away all reserve. I care not if the whole world 
 were assembled around me — I would tell them 
 what I now think of religion — I should like to 
 see many here, that I might tell them what 
 the Lord hath done for my soul.” He then sent 
 
310 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 for H , his favourite brother and companion. 
 
 Willy was much affected. He seemed to say 
 farewell to H with deep emotion. He en- 
 
 treated him to supply his place in every thing — 
 particularly in being a comfort to his father, and 
 filling his place in the ministry. On this latter 
 subject he spoke much. He said, From a child 
 it has been my delight to think of being a clergy- 
 man of the Church of England ; but it is God’s 
 
 will to pass me by, and take you, dear H , and 
 
 honour you thus. I resign my place to you — Fill 
 it faithfully.” — Then turning to his father, he 
 
 said, ‘‘ Give H a double portion of your love. 
 
 He is to fill my place, as well as his own, to you. — 
 I make a transfer to him of all the affection you 
 have borne to me.” He paused for breath and 
 then continued, ‘‘We have loved each other very 
 dearly, we always loved as brothers amidst our 
 little quarrels, — did we not? I love you now 
 more than ever, and I must talk to you about 
 your soul.” He addressed him in very plain 
 
 language, asking him questions. H seemed 
 
 confused and distressed, for there were others 
 
 present. Willy said, “ Poor H , you feel shy 
 
 on this subject — I used to feel the same once — I 
 could not speak once, but that reserve is all gone. 
 — I am not ashamed to say what I feel now. You 
 will feel as I do, some day.” He then begged 
 
THE MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY. 
 
 31i 
 
 that all would retire and leave H alone with 
 
 him. No one heard the conversation which 
 passed between them. He next sent for his youn- 
 ger brothers : — they wept much as he addressed 
 them. He spoke very touchingly to his youngest 
 sister, who was then a little child. Would you 
 
 like to meet poor Willy in heaven, dear C . 
 
 then you must love God. Pray to God to make 
 you love him, and to make you a good child — -a 
 holy child. Will you promise me one thing, my 
 
 dear C , that you will never go out of your 
 
 room in the morning till you have read a few 
 verses in the Bible, and prayed to God. If you 
 do not pray to God, you will not meet poor Willy 
 in heaven. I will give you a verse to think of 
 when I am dead. “ Suffer little children to come 
 unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the 
 kingdom of heaven.” Say that verse to yourself 
 every night when you lie down.” 
 
 He sent for several people in the village 
 to come and bid him farewell. There was 
 one old person for whom he had a special 
 regard. She had been much with him in his 
 childhood, and he used to tell her, ‘‘if he lived 
 to be a man, and had a house of his own, 
 she should come and keep it.” He held out 
 his hand to her affectionately, and, alluding to 
 his promise, said, “ I shall have no house in this 
 
312 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 world, Nanny, for you to come and keep — but* I 
 shall still have a house — a house not made with 
 hands, eternal in the heavens.” His countenance 
 as he spoke assumed a singularly sweet and 
 happy expression — such a beaming look of love 
 and joy, that every one noticed it. The hectic 
 flush glowed on his cheek — his eyes sparkled with 
 a peculiar lustre — and the marble forehead was 
 smooth and placid. It was the parting loveliness 
 of a body irradiated by a soul full of meekness, 
 calmness, joy, and confidence. Instead of being 
 exhausted by such lengthened conversations, as 
 we expected, he seemed full of vigour, and rather 
 refreshed. He conversed a good deal with both 
 his parents. ‘‘ What a striking answer,” he said, 
 I have had to prayer ; God has allowed me time 
 and strength to speak to you all, and has so filled 
 me with sweet peace and joy, that I never could 
 have conceived there was such happiness to be 
 known here.” He then said, “ I should like the 
 whole family to assemble round me, that I may 
 look at you all together, while I am so happy.” 
 He then offered up a fervent and touching prayer 
 to God, blessing him for his great goodness, and 
 commending us to him for salvation. He paused 
 a moment and concluded, ‘‘ Lord ! now lettest 
 thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes 
 have seen thy salvation.” 
 
THE MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY. 
 
 313 
 
 “ He remained in this happy frame of mind a 
 short time, when all seemed to pass away as a 
 dream : the fever returned — great suffering suc- 
 ceeded — and his whole frame was agitated. At 
 intervals he referred to the past season of happi- 
 ness, and the recollection of it comforted him. 
 He repeated what he had before said, several 
 times, I would go through all again for one 
 such sweet hour.” 
 
 In the evening he was dejected by a dread 
 of delirium, and prayed earnestly that he might 
 retain his senses to the last, often exclaiming, 
 ‘‘ I cannot glorify thee in delirium.” He called 
 this a happy day, because he thought he had 
 done good by his faithful addresses. 
 
 My father came to read and pray with him, 
 before he retired to rest. Willy said, “ I am too 
 tired to listen. I should like to dream of the past ; 
 papa, there will be no distraction in heaven.” 
 
 ‘‘ Friday was a mournful day. My bro- 
 ther’s sufferings were greatly increased. He 
 could find no position in which to rest. He 
 breathed with difficulty, and at times seemed 
 almost suffocated ; and the soul, as if in sympathy 
 with the body, became full of doubt and terror. 
 He called out in great agitation — ‘‘ Oh ! pray for 
 me — pray for me — say something to comfort me.” 
 I read to him some verses from the xliiid of Isaiah, 
 
314 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 He continued to exclaim — Oh ! pray for me, 
 pray for me ! I am in great suffering.” I. opened 
 the Annals of the Poor, and read to him the 
 account of the Dairyman’s Daughter’s last hours. 
 He listened attentively, and then repeated the 
 words, The Lord deals very gently with me, 
 and gives me peace. It is not dark, my Lord is 
 there, and he is my light and salvation.” He 
 appeared a little more composed, and I turned to 
 the tract of Little Jane. I read to him -some 
 passages. ‘‘ Ah !” said he, they, got safe 
 
 through, and why not I ? I am glad, dear F , 
 
 that you thought of the Dairyman's Daughter and 
 Little Jane. They are just the examples I want. 
 They suffered much, but it was not dark to them. 
 — Oh, death ! death ! what is it ? I have still to go 
 through death — the dark valley.” He sat for 
 some time in silence, with his head resting on the 
 table. Though he did not speak, I could perceive 
 that there was something passing in his mind which 
 shook his whole frame. Suddenly, with a wild 
 expression of countenance, and in a bitter tone, 
 he exclaimed — “ Oh ! agony ! agony ! agony ! 
 agony ! I shall perish after all.” I was much 
 frightened, and went to call my father. I told 
 him Willy must be delirious. When my father 
 saw him he said, ‘‘ Oh no ! this is not delirium. 
 I know exactly what he is passing through.” He 
 
THE MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY. 
 
 315 
 
 sat down beside Wilberforce, and began to talk 
 soothingly to him, but he refused to be comforted. 
 He still cried out with his whole remaining 
 strength — “ Oh agony ! agony ! agony ! Satan 
 will have me after all — Papa, pray for me, he 
 tells me I shall be lost — He tells me my sins will 
 damn me — Oh, papa, this is agony ! — all is dark, 
 dark — all gone — all lost— and has Christ brought 
 me thus far to leave me at last.” My dear father 
 was much overcome at this scene, and struggled 
 hard for composure. He repeated text after text ; 
 and with apparent calmness, and in his own ten- 
 der and peculiar manner, enlarged on the faithful 
 love of the. Saviour. He assured Willy of his full 
 persuasion that Christ’s honour was pledged in 
 presenting his soul safe to the Father : that this 
 was the last attack of Satan : that he took advan- 
 tage of his bodily weakness, to distress, when he 
 could not harm him. But poor Willy seemed 
 still more agitated. The cold drops stood on his 
 forehead — his look betrayed the deepest anguish, 
 and he shook with terror. “ Oh! papa! what will 
 become of me,” he cried ; ‘‘ I am going into the 
 dark valley alone. Jesus has left me. It is all 
 dark, dark, dark — The rod and the staff do not 
 support me — Satan fights hard for me, and he 
 will carry me away at last.” His bodily suffer- 
 ings seemed quite forgotten, and were lost in the 
 
316 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 bitter anguish of his mind, and he still continued 
 to repeat, agony — agony.’' My dear father tried 
 again by a variety of arguments, and by a frequent 
 appeal to scripture, to support his despairing child, 
 but in vain. He seemed given up for a time to 
 such sharp and sore besetments as baffled all 
 attempts to administer comfort. , After a silence 
 of some minutes, and when he seemed nearly 
 fainting, my dear father solemnly repeated, 
 “ Simon, Simon, Satan hath desired to have thee, 
 that he may sift thee as wheat ; but I have prayed 
 for thee, that thy faith fail not.” These were the 
 first words which made any impression on Wilber- 
 force. He said, “ Ah ! papa, I used to love those 
 words, but they are gone — I will try to under- 
 stand them — Say them again.” My father 
 repeated the affecting words of the Saviour to his 
 tempted disciple. Willy listened to them with 
 intense interest. When he heard the words, 
 ‘‘ but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail 
 not,” he exclaimed, ‘‘ Oh, my dear papa, do you 
 think that Christ is praying for me? Does he 
 pray for me in this hour of darkness, when I have 
 no faith ? ” ‘‘ Certainly, my dear boy, I cannot 
 
 doubt it. I am quite sure he is praying for you 
 at this instant. Take courage then. Do you 
 think God will not hear Christ’s prayer? ‘‘ Him 
 the Father heareth always.” His mind became a 
 
THE MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY. 
 
 317 
 
 little calmer, but he still looked uneasy, and 
 replied slowly, “ Can I have been brought to 
 love him so, only to perish ? Can such feelings 
 as I have — such a hatred of sin, be fitting me 
 for hell? No, it cannot be — Such feelings could 
 not exist in hell — He will save me as the chief 
 of sinners.” Presently he exclaimed, Jesus has 
 not left me. I see him again — more precious than 
 ever — my Saviour — my hope. How could I 
 distrust him — I am mprfe than conqueror. 
 Papa, I feel safe — I am Christ’s — Why did I 
 doubt ? I am so strengthened. Dear papa, I can 
 give you no idea of the anguish of my heart. It 
 exceeded all I supposed endurable ; — I thought 
 myself in Satan’s hands — It must have been 
 such anguish as this which made the Saviour cry 
 out, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
 me.” I never knew what suffering was before — 
 I thought I was lost.” And what do you now 
 think ?” ‘‘I have great peace, firm confidence, — 
 I am so strengthened, papa, in my faith — so 
 strengthened — hell shall not prevail; Christ has 
 saved me — none shall pluck me out of his hand. 
 I should not be afraid to grapple with this dreadful 
 foe again — I should not be afraid, if Jesus were 
 standing by ” — and then shuddering at his own 
 recollections, he added, ‘‘ But papa, I hope God 
 will not see it necessary to try me in this 
 
318 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 way again ; I hope not — It was indeed a dreadful 
 struggle.” Why say so ? ” said his father, it 
 is possible God may see fit thus to try your faith 
 again. You see how he has supported you — you 
 have been the conqueror — why then shrink ? ” 
 
 Oh no! 1 will not shrink, I could go through 
 it again if it were God’s will — I could not see my 
 Saviour in that dark hour, but now I know he was 
 near me.” And then shuddering at his own 
 words, he added, but I hope it will not be 
 necessary again to try me thus.” 
 
 This last sorrow attached him more than ever 
 to his father. He could not bear that he should be 
 out of his sight, and listened to every word which 
 fell from him, with the most grateful love and 
 confiding simplicity. He truly hung upon his lips. 
 Never was there a more afiecting sight, than to 
 behold this loving father and no less loving 
 son, now blending every feeling and thought of 
 their hearts together, and so closely united in 
 religious intercourse, that they seemed as it were 
 a twin soul. 
 
 My father, was obliged to leave Wilberforce for 
 a little while ; on his return, the latter looking up 
 with a smile said, Papa, I cannot pray now — I 
 am so very ill; — but I have been praisi? 2 g.'' “For 
 what, my dear boy ? ” “.I have been blessing God 
 for giving me such a father : — when I can say no- 
 
THE MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY. 
 
 319 
 
 thing else, I can praise God for such a dear father, 
 to whom I can tell all, and who helps me on to 
 heaven.” This was almost too much for my father ; 
 he could neither speak nor weep, he seemed 
 absorbed in unutterable feeling — the fountain of 
 tears was dried up. 
 
 ‘‘ Willy did not wait for a reply. “ I am sorry, 
 papa, I did not open my mind to you before, how 
 much happier I should have been, if I had done 
 so. I have now no reserve — I can tell you every 
 thing — You are my friend and my guide — my 
 dear, dear papa, I do love you. You have so helped 
 me in my great trial.” 
 
 ‘"In the evening he conversed with my father on 
 the bitter agony through which he had passed in 
 the morning, with calmness and faith. Some one 
 present asked him what he thought to be the best 
 evidence of conversion — “ A broken heart and a 
 contrite spirit,” he replied. “This is what I 
 brought to God, and it was the only evidence I 
 could rely on.” 
 
 “.The next day he expressed some impatience at 
 lingering so long, earnestly desiring that this might 
 be his last day, but he soon checked himself, and 
 prayed against a restless spirit. He sometimes 
 cried out, “ How* long, how long ! when shall I be 
 free ! How my spirit struggles to get away from 
 this poor weary body ! Papa, do you think I shall 
 
320 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH 
 
 linger here another day ? ” and without waiting for 
 a reply he said, but my times are in thy hands, 
 
 0 God — I must die daily — I will patiently wait 
 
 thy will.” He called me to him, and gave me 
 a copy of Miss Jerram’s Memoir. He said it had 
 been of great use to him, and that God’s dealings 
 with her had sometimes comforted him. ‘‘We both 
 passed through great sorrows, but God comforted 
 us both in his own time. Read it, dear F ; 
 
 1 give you my copy — I have no further need of it, 
 and may God bless it to you.” He asked to have 
 the 17th chapter of St. John read to him, and 
 remarked “ how very plain is the doctrine of that 
 chapter. I wonder there should be so much 
 controversy about it.” 
 
 “ What is to-morrow ? ” he asked “ It is the Sab- 
 bath.” He seemed pleased, and earnestly begged 
 that the congregation might be requested to pray 
 for him in the church. On Sunday morning he 
 was much weaker, and his end was evidently fast 
 approaching. To a kind friend who had nursed 
 him, he said, “ How do I look now?” She saw 
 the approach of death in his languid eye and 
 pallid countenance. “ You look worse, master 
 Wilberforce, I do not think that you can live much 
 longer.” The effect produced by her opinion was 
 truly astonishing. His dim eye lighted up, all his 
 features assumed a new life, and turning to her. 
 
THE MEMBERS OF IlIS FAMILY. 
 
 321 
 
 he said, “Oh, thank you, dear Mrs. G , 
 
 good news ! you tell me good news. Shall 
 I indeed be in heaven to day !” My father came 
 into the room. “ Papa,’' said he, “ how do I look — 
 am I altered?” “ No, my dear boy. I see little 
 difference in you.” He was evidently disap- 
 pointed. “ Do you see no difference,” said he, 
 “ Mrs. G— — does. She has made me so happy. — 
 She thinks I may die to-day.” My father sat with 
 him the whole of the day while we were at church, 
 and Willy asked him to read the service for the 
 visitation of the sick. He listened with devout 
 attention, and when it was ended, he said, “ Oh ! 
 my dear papa, what beautiful prayers ! what an 
 affecting service 1 it expresses my whole heart.” 
 
 , “ He then said to his mother, “ I love to look at 
 you, mamma. I love to smile at you, but I want 
 to smile at Jesus.” He asked her to draw near, 
 and let him lean on her bosom. “ It is sweet to 
 lean on you, dear mamma, — but I long to lean on 
 the bosom of Jesus.” He conversed with his father 
 in the afternoon for the last time. Reference is 
 made to this conversation in his papers as follows. 
 
 “ Agony,*— conflict, — triumph, — glorying in this 
 second struggle with Satan — expecting another 
 struggle — ^not fearing it. — The enemy subdued, 
 bruised under his feet. — Longing to be in heaven 
 — not able to form any idea of another world, yet 
 
 Y 
 
322 
 
 WILBERFORCES DEATH. 
 
 full confidence of being there. — I know in whom 
 I am trusting — dreading to linger, yet bowing to 
 the will of God. — His joy in the prayers of the 
 church for him — Christ will save me.” 
 
 He had been accustomed to teach a class in 
 the Sunday school, and begged that his dying- 
 message might be written down and sent to the 
 children that evening. He had not been able to 
 lie in bed for a week, owing to the pain in his 
 side, but on Sunday evening he expressed a wish 
 to be undressed and put into bed, being inclined 
 to sleep. He was accordingly put into bed, and 
 lay very tranquil and comfortable. My father 
 stood watching beside him till he thought him 
 asleep. He then went to his study, as he after- 
 wards told us, to pray that, if it were God’s will, 
 his child might have quiet and ease in his last 
 moments ; for he much dreaded the severity of a 
 dying agony, which from the past he thought pro- 
 bable. As he was going away he blessed him, and 
 looking at him as he lay, serene and beautiful in his 
 repose, he said, ‘‘ So he giveth his beloved sleep.” 
 Willy opened his eyes on hearing these words, and 
 replied, ‘"Yes, dear papa, and the rest which 
 Christ gives is sweet.” These were his last words. 
 He immediately sunk into a long and peaceful 
 
 slumber. We were sitting near him. Mrs. , 
 
 his faithful nurse, stood and watched beside him. 
 
wilberforce’s death. 
 
 323 
 
 We could hear distinctly every breath he drew, 
 and the least change in the sound was percep- 
 tible. One or two breathings were slower and 
 longer, which made us get up and look at him. 
 He appeared as if slumbering very sweetly. — 
 There was no alteration in his countenance, and we 
 
 were going to sit down again, when Mrs. , said, 
 
 Call your papa immediately.” We did so, and he 
 came just in time to hear his last sigh. I think 
 he awoke from sleep but felt no pain, nor was 
 sensible of death. My father raised Willy’s head 
 upon his arm, and contemplated it for a minute. 
 The countenance looked placid, as if it had beheld 
 the Saviour’s face in righteousness, and was satis- 
 fied. My father pressed the lifeless body to his 
 bosom, and burst into a flood of tears, struggling 
 with nature’s anguish. At length, subduing his 
 feelings, he said, “ My child is a saint in glory.” He 
 bid us all follow him to the study, that we might 
 praise God for his mercy and loving-kindness. He 
 opened the Bible and read the two last chapters 
 of the Book of Revelations, and then knelt down 
 and prayed with us. It was a moment not to be 
 forgotten. Our dear father appeared so absorbed 
 in the contemplation of his child’s entrance 
 into heaven, and his union with the spirits of 
 the just made perfect, as to be scarcely con- 
 scious of the presence of his family around him. 
 
324 
 
 WILBERFORCES DEATH.' 
 
 “ Between the death and the funeral of my bro- 
 ther, my dear father’s mind was often severely exer- 
 cised. Sometimes he would weep, and say, ‘‘ All 
 thy waves and storms are gone over me,” and then, 
 ‘‘ Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of 
 his saints.” V He giveth and he taketh away, and 
 blessed be his holy name.” He would rise early 
 in the morning to gaze on the peaceful counte- 
 nance of his departed child. We overheard him 
 giving vent to the mingled emotion of his heart 
 in the chamber of death. But he was comforted 
 in tribulation, and he returned to his family, to 
 sooth their sorrows with the comfort wherewith 
 he was comforted of God. He said little, but 
 his calm and subdued spirit bespoke Christian 
 resignation. He used to teach us that disquiet 
 was the result of distrust, and we saw in his 
 silent submission an example of his own prin- 
 ciple, that his heart trusted in God. “ Though 
 his hand be lifted up to destroy, yet from that 
 very hand do I expect salvation.” ^ 
 
 “ A vault was opened for Wilberforce under 
 the chancel. An incident occurred which much 
 affected us, and which shewed the pious and affec- 
 tionate sympathy of the people in the sorrows of 
 their pastor. The workmen had not completed the 
 vault till past eleven o’clock at night, when they 
 
 Leighton. 
 
wilberforce’s death. 
 
 325 
 
 agreed to descend into it, and consecrate the place 
 which was shortly to receive our brother’s remains, 
 by prayer. The sepulchre of the dead became holy 
 ground. They joined in praises to him who is 
 the resurrection and the life, and who has enlight- 
 ened the gloomy grave by his own presence. 
 They continued in prayer till midnight, commend- 
 ing their beloved minister to the grace of God — 
 invoking blessings on his family, and intreating 
 that this mournful event might be over-ruled to 
 the increase of religion in the parish ; — and may 
 we not hope that prayer was heard ? The subse- 
 quent state of the village may be described as 
 life from the dead. In the morning of my brother’s 
 interment, my father prayed with his family. 
 I trust that the Spirit of God poured out his 
 special influence on the minds of those present. 
 A friend afterwards observed, This is the 
 fervent prayer of a righteous man, which availeth 
 much. Can we doubt that it is recorded in 
 heaven, and will long be remembered on earth. 
 
 From this time, our dear father gave himself 
 up to the work of the ministry with redoubled 
 diligence. The congregations were large and 
 attentive. He went daily from cottage to cottage 
 amongst the poor, warning, exhorting, comforting, 
 and confirming the souls of the disciples in the 
 grace of God. He used to meet persons nearly 
 
326 
 
 wilberforce’s death. 
 
 every evening in the week, for prayer and exposi- 
 tion of the Scriptures. Many a heart in Turvey 
 still glows at the recollection of these seasons. 
 There was a general revival of religion both 
 amongst old and young, and scarcely a day 
 passed in which some one did not anxiously 
 inquire, “ What must I do to be saved ? ” There 
 might be in this excitement something that 
 was of a doubtful character, but there were 
 certainly many real conversions, and a general 
 and increased attention towards religion, un- 
 known at any former period. My father seldom 
 left • his parish, or saw any one out of his own 
 family ; to whom he became 'still more endeared, 
 and for whose progress and improvement in reli- 
 gion, he manifested an anxiety even to depression, 
 and an earnestness which impaired his own 
 health. He had naturally very high spirits, 
 and was at times playful in his conversation ; 
 but now, though he sometimes smiled, he was 
 ever thoughtful, pensive, and silent. He appeared 
 to be wounded by the least approximation to 
 levity, and was continually pressing on us a more 
 serious apprehension of eternity. On one occa- 
 sion, when he thought we had indulged in a con- 
 versation too little in unison with the late event — 
 he made no remark at the time, but the next 
 morning 1 found on my table the following note. 
 
wilberforce’s death. 
 
 327 
 
 My dearest Child, 
 
 There is a degree of relief to a tender spirit 
 in the communication of its thoughts and feelings. 
 The affecting scenes of this time twelve-month 
 have scarcely ever been absent from my recollec- 
 tion even for a moment. In the midst of our, 
 (perhaps, too great) hilarities, I have pictured to 
 my imagination Willy dying last week, and 
 this week dead in the house. Have we all felt 
 and done as much as we ought on this most 
 affecting occasion ? Is the sacredness . and 
 solemnity of that interesting period preserved 
 in our hearts? Has the erection of another 
 tablet in the church sufficiently moved our affec- 
 tions? Monday evening was a trying hour to 
 my heart. My poor Willy died on that day, 
 and as on next Sunday we buried him. Oh !• let 
 
 you and I, my much loved F , ponder these 
 
 things in our souls for good. Amidst the living, 
 let us not forget the dead. * ^ ^ * 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 “ My dear father for many years had been 
 accustomed to write pastoral letters to his parish- 
 ioners, which were read in the school-room to 
 those who chose to attend. The following address 
 to them was written soon after my brother’s death. 
 
328 
 
 wilberforce’s death. 
 
 ‘‘ My dear Friends, Neighbours, and 
 Parishioners. 
 
 “In the midst of my sorrows at the removal 
 of my dearly-loved child, I wish you to know that 
 the Lord supports me wonderfully. I cannot yet 
 come out amongst you, but 1 cannot be quite 
 silent. I have therefore desired my dear friend 
 and fellow-labourer to read this letter to you. I 
 have preached the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ 
 to you more than nineteen years, and through his 
 mercy I have seen some precious fruits of these 
 labours amongst you, but never have I witnessed 
 a more beautiful or triumphant evidence, that I 
 have not taught, preached, or lived in vain, than in 
 the case of my dear son, now a sharer of the 
 Redeemer’s glory in heaven. Oh, what a call for 
 praise, that he was not only my natural, but also 
 my spiritual child. Such was his love to Christ, 
 and Christ’s love to him, that I am lost in wonder, 
 love, and praise. I am persuaded there are many 
 of you, who feel deeply for me. You can weep 
 with me when I weep, and rejoice with me when 
 I rejoice. You have prayed for my child. It 
 was the delight of his heart to hear of your love 
 and sympathy, and he dwelt on the. interest you 
 took in his welfare, to the very day of his death. 
 He was indeed a boy of no common mind, and the 
 
wilberforce’s death. 329 
 
 Lord sanctified his great natural endowments to 
 his own glory. I feel more and more every hour, 
 what a treasure I have lost ; but at the same time 
 I see more and more what a blessedness he has 
 attained. I have been watching him at home 
 and abroad, with a parent’s eye and a Christian’s 
 heart, both for his body and soul, ever since dis- 
 ease fastened on his frame last summer, and no 
 one will ever know what my anxieties have been 
 during that period. . But I trust God meant all 
 for my good. The trial, severely as I have felt it, 
 has shewn me more of myself, and more of my 
 God. My prayers for my dear child have been 
 abundantly answered. Blessed be God ! he was 
 enabled to disclose his whole heart to me, and to 
 others, before he was taken away. He conversed 
 with many in a most useful and edifying manner, 
 exhorting them to prayer, faith, and holiness. He 
 could tell them all, that he knew in whom he 
 trusted, and could look at death with perfect 
 peace. Believe me, then, when I tell you, that 
 though I am greatly affected, and humbled in the 
 dust with a sense of sin and sorrow, yet that my 
 mercies are so abounding in abounding chastise- 
 ment, that I can, and do rejoice in tribulation. 
 Oh ! may it work patience, and patience experi- 
 ence, and experience hope, and may hope make 
 me more faithful and diligent, that I be not 
 
330 
 
 WILBERFORCE S DEATH. 
 
 ashamed of the gospel in principle or practice, for 
 your sakes, as well as my own. It is a great 
 comfort to me now, as I am kept from minister- 
 ing to you for a season, that you have one amongst 
 you who preaches the same truth, and in the same 
 spirit. May our common Lord and Saviour bless 
 him, and you, and me together. I beg your 
 prayers, at this season in particular, for me and 
 mine. They are no longer needful for my beloved 
 son. Let them be transferred to the surviving 
 members of my family. Pray especially for those 
 who watch for your souls — that we may experience 
 help and comfort in ourselves, and dispense the 
 word of life with more zeal and love. Pray that 
 there may be no divisions or wanderings of heart 
 amongst us — that we may be all of one mind and 
 judgment in the things which make for our ever- 
 lasting peace. • Pray that the young children may 
 be brought up in the nurture and admonition of 
 the Lord. My dear boy sent them a message on 
 his dying bed, which was read to them a short 
 time before his believing happy soul entered into 
 rest. May the whole school remember it for his 
 sake, and their soul’s sake. God bless you all, 
 my dear friends. I cannot doubt, but that you 
 will bear me on your hearts to a throne of grace. 
 
 Your affectionate Minister, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
wilberforce’s death. 
 
 331 
 
 When my father resumed his labours amongst 
 the people, he seemed to be aware of his declining 
 health, though he said nothing to the family. 
 His usual and only reply, when we expressed 
 our fears, was, “ I must work while it is called 
 to-day. The night cometh when no man can 
 work.” He appeared moulded into the spirit of 
 the Apostle, ‘‘ affectionately desirous to spend 
 and be spent in the service of his flock, and to 
 impart to them not only the gospel of Christ, 
 but, if it were possible, his own soul also ; and the 
 people caught the holy contagion of his fervent 
 zeal and love. There was between them an 
 almost unexampled reciprocity of regard and 
 desire to glorify God, and walk humbly, justly, 
 and unblameably before him.” ^ 
 
 ‘"You will receive with indulgence the overflow- 
 ings of my heart towards a father whose memory 
 is still cherished by his family and by his par- 
 ishioners, with the deepest gratitude, and I- hope 
 we may add, with an unfeigned anxiety to walk 
 in the steps of his bright example, and meet 
 him again in everlasting glory. 
 
 Believe me, my very dear Sir, 
 
 Your affectionate and faithful 
 
 1 Thess. iv. 8. 
 
332 
 
 MEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Sure ^tis a solemn thing to die, my soul. — B lair. . 
 
 This only can reconcile us to the grave, that our greatest 
 hopes lie beyond it. — H owe. 
 
 We proceed, with the same view of illustration, 
 to notice some particulars relating to the third 
 daughter of Mr. Richmond, who survived her 
 father only a year and a half. She also was 
 the child of faith and prayer, and equally the 
 object of his tender solicitude with the rest 
 of his family. 
 
 I am not warranted to present her character 
 as an instance of high attainment in piety, but 
 the exercises of her mind during her last illness, 
 sufficiently disclose the salutary effect of a reli- 
 gious education, and while we indulge the plea- 
 sing hope that she has joined her beloved father 
 in the mansions of the blessed, her case will 
 afford additional encouragement to the Christian 
 parent, to sow in his children’s hearts the seeds 
 of eternal life, which, watered ‘‘ by the early and 
 
MR. Richmond’s third daughter. 333 
 
 latter rain,” seldom fail to spring up and ripen 
 to reward his labours, as occasions arise in the 
 varying circumstances and events of life. 
 
 . This amiable young woman possessed an 
 exuberance of animal spirits, and a turn for the 
 ludicrous, which was very difficult to be re- 
 strained within the bounds of discretion, and gave 
 her dear father much anxiety.” ^ 
 
 A volatile temper is in all cases a grievous 
 hindrance to intellectual and spiritual improve- 
 ment. Good conversation cannot consist with 
 the indulgence of ‘‘ foolish talking and Jesting,” 
 and the mind is diverted by it from solid and 
 useful pursuits. We may attempt to excuse this 
 cast of character, and speak of it as a playfulness 
 of temper ; but after all, it cannot be approved. 
 The disposition to amuse ourselves with the 
 defects or peculiarities of others, may generally 
 be traced to vanity in ourselves, and is a habit 
 of mind wholly inconsistent with the spirit of 
 humility and love, as well as a sad forgetfulness 
 of that solemn caution, Every idle word that 
 a man shall speak, he shall give an account 
 thereof at the day of judgment.” ^ 
 
 There was not, however, any thing cynical or 
 severe in the strain of this young person’s con- 
 
 ^ Extracted from Mrs. R’s letter to the Author. 
 
 2 Matt. xii. 36. 
 
334 MR. Richmond’s letters 
 
 versation. She was naturally frank, open, and 
 kind-hearted, and to oblige another was a real 
 satisfaction to herself. It was rather a thought- 
 less propensity, common to many young people, 
 
 to giggle and make giggle,” ^ that I am 
 lamenting. 
 
 It is difficult to speak of the dead so as not to 
 wound the tender feelings of the living, but 
 when it is required to pourtray character, the 
 simple declaration of the truth is best, and is 
 indeed the only course consistent with Christian 
 integrity. She who forms the subject of my 
 present remarks, affixed a solemn seal to their 
 truth in the affecting review which she took 
 of the past, in her dying hours. It is a source 
 of much congratulation that she is now beyond 
 the opinion of man, whose imperfect knowledge 
 renders him at all times incompetent to pronounce 
 on his fellow creatures, and should remind him 
 of the danger of assuming a prerogative he cannot 
 claim. “ Judge nothing before the time.” 
 
 Mr. Richmond placed his daughter at school 
 
 at , where he expected the strictest attention 
 
 would be paid to her principles and conduct. I 
 have no reason to suppose that he was dissatisfied 
 with the care and vigilance of those to whom he 
 
 Cowper’s Letters. 
 
TO HIS DAUGHTER. 
 
 335 
 
 had entrusted his child ; but whatever she had 
 acquired in other respects, it does not appear 
 that at the close of her education she had made 
 any advancement in religion. 
 
 About this time Mr. R, addressed the following 
 letter to her : 
 
 Dear H— — , 
 
 And now comes your turn. Receive, read, 
 mark, and inwardly digest. I do not know how 
 much you are grown in stature, but I do hope 
 you are growing in wisdom. Then, whether you 
 are to be a woman tall, or a woman short, will 
 signify very little. You will, if your wisdom be 
 of the right kind, be of a tall mind and of tall 
 attainments, and we will call you the little 
 woman with the great soul. I have heard of a 
 person’s soul being so mean and small, that if you 
 were to put it into a hollow mustard seed and 
 shake it well, it would rattle. Now that is not 
 the sort of soul I wish to discover in you. I want 
 to see a soul in you which can embrace all useful 
 and requisite knowledge — a soul which can 
 extend its energies beyond ordinary limits — which 
 can feel for all around you, and carry its benevo- 
 lent activity throughout the universe — which can 
 contemplate the globe, such a one as you study 
 at B , and find new problems upon it — as 
 
336 
 
 MR. RICHMOND S LETTERS 
 
 how to carry the gospel into all latitudes and all 
 longitudes — how to excite pity for the poor 
 heathen in every zone and climate of the world — 
 how to equalize all nations in the sympathy 
 of Christian love, and thus make a spiritual 
 equator — how to estimate the coldness of irre- 
 ligion in the burning regions of tne tropics, and 
 how to carry the lively heat of evangelical 
 charity into the districts of the poles. I would 
 have you capable of grasping all these questions 
 in your heart, with as much ease as your hands 
 would clasp a doll, or as mine would clasp your 
 own dear self to my bosom. But why do I wish 
 that your soul may become thus capacious? 
 Simply to this end — that you may thereby 
 resemble him who so loved the world, that he 
 
 came into it to save sinners ; yes, sinners, H , 
 
 like unto you. Have you ever thought of this 
 great truth as you ought? Is foolishness still 
 bound up in the heart of my child ? Is human 
 existence only to be estimated by play-things, 
 and holidays, and all the &c’s. of a light-minded 
 state? What, a young damsel almost fourteen 
 years old, and no more progress in divine 
 things ! Study your Bible, and remember your 
 privileges. Study your Bible, and dig deep for a 
 foundation whereon to build our house. Study 
 your Bible, and say what must become of all the 
 
TO HIS DAUGHTER. 
 
 337 
 
 thoughtless little girls in the world, if they do 
 not repent and believe. Once more, study your 
 Bible, and learn what you first owe to God, and 
 then to your parents, and then to brothers and 
 sisters, then to teachers, and then to school- 
 fellows, and then to all mankind. Such a medi- 
 tation will, with God’s blessing, prove a merciful 
 hour to your own soul, and for the sake of your’s, 
 to my soul also. I hope you will now pursue 
 your education with earnestness. Now is the 
 time to lay in a stock of useful knowledge. You 
 cannot set too high a value on the advantages 
 which you possess. Whether you eat or drink, 
 or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. 
 Childhood and its vanities must speedily pass away, 
 and you must have done with childish things. 
 Learn to pray, and commit your whole soul and 
 body to Christ. He is able to keep what you give 
 into his hand, unto the great day when the secrets 
 of all hearts shall be disclosed. You are now 
 of the age at which little Jane did this. Are 
 you like her ? are you as ready to meet your 
 God as she was ? Ask the question of your heart, 
 and carry it to the throne of mercy, where all 
 praying souls are made welcome. I hope you 
 liked the Bible-meeting at Northampton. I wish 
 you early to cultivate a cordial interest in that 
 great work — the greatest work of the age. In 
 
 z 
 
338 
 
 MR. RICHMOND S LETTERS 
 
 the day when Dame Eleanor’s cross ^ was built, 
 the Bible was unknown to the greatest part 
 of the country. What a contrast now ! The 
 angel flies through heaven and earth, presenting 
 it to all. The stone cross was once almost an 
 idol ; but the true cross proclaimed in the Bible, 
 is the real Christian’s ensign, prop, and delight. 
 Farewell, dear love. I am 
 
 Your own dear father, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 The next letter was written to the same 
 daughter on her birth-day. 
 
 Dear H , 
 
 The return of a birth-day is the signal for 
 gratitude. Fourteen years ago, as I sat in my 
 little study at Brading, in the Isle of Wight, 
 about six in the morning in came a woman bear- 
 ing in her arms a little baby, and wished me joy 
 of the same — now this little baby was a little 
 
 girl, and that little girl was my H , and now is 
 
 the 15th time that joy has been uttered from year 
 to year whenever that day was named. But what 
 is joy? Is it only a holiday? But what is joy? 
 Is it only a game of play, — is it merely a jumping, 
 
 * This cross is erected about a mile from Northampton, and 
 was once held in great veneration by Catholie devotees. 
 
TO HIS DAUGHTER. 
 
 339 
 
 and frisking, and running, and chattering, and 
 doll-dressing, and merry-making, and feast-keep- 
 ing. Is this all the joy of a birth-day ? Away, 
 far away be all such feeble interpretations of the 
 word. Then what is a birth -day joy ? Is it not 
 the joy of parents, when they see their children 
 growing up in the fear of the Lord, and in the 
 practice of holiness ? Is it not the joy of the 
 husbandman, when he sees his crop ripe and 
 plentiful, and offering the promise of harvest? 
 Is it not the joy of the gardener, when he perceives 
 his young trees thrive, and blossom, and bear 
 fruit ? Is it not the joy of the mother-bird, when 
 after all her watchings, and tremblings, and 
 flutterings over the nest, she sees her little ones 
 begin to fly, and become capable of answering 
 the end of divine providence in their creation ? 
 Is it not the joy of the Christian instructor, when 
 after hours, and days, and months, and years 
 spent in warning, teaching, guiding, praying for, 
 and affectionately superintending the young 
 pupils’ best interests — that pupil proves a living 
 commentary on the precepts received, grows in 
 grace, and love, and humility, and activity, and 
 obedience, and as a bud of promise cheers the 
 hearts of surrounding friends with prospects 
 of usefulness through life in all its relative 
 circumstances. If such be the ingredients of 
 
340 
 
 MR. RICHMOND S LETTERS 
 
 birth-day joy when duly estimated, may I be 
 gratified in expressing my joy to-day, and can 
 you also participate in joy thus appreciated ? 
 
 God bless you, my dear H , on this day, and 
 
 on every day. Time flies, opportunity flies, the 
 school-hour flies, childhood flies, all things are 
 hastening to a grand consummation, — what a 
 solemn thought ! May my child conceive and 
 cherish it to the glory of God, and her own ever- 
 lasting consolation. May Christ become to her 
 a gracious Saviour, received, loved, and honoured 
 by her. Such is the prayer of her affectionate 
 father, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 On an occasion of indisposition, Mr. R. writes 
 again. 
 
 ‘‘ Dear H. 
 
 ‘‘ My anxious wish for your spiritual and tem- 
 poral welfare induces me to express my thoughts 
 to you in these little notes. I cannot tell you 
 how much I desire that this season of sickness 
 may be blessed of God to your present and ever- 
 lasting good. This thought is continually before 
 me, and I pray constantly to him that you may 
 be inwardly strengthened by the power of his 
 might. Examine yourself. Prove yourself. Bring 
 
TO HIS DAUGHTER. 
 
 34 J 
 
 your heart and all your thoughts before God, and 
 make a solemn surrender of yourself to him. 
 Employ with gratitude and patience the means 
 which are prescribed for your recovery, but trust 
 in him alone. Physicians can do nothing with- 
 out his blessing on the medicines. I thank God 
 for your last note, and shall be much pleased 
 when you can and will write me another. Above 
 all things be much in prayer, in the watches 
 of the night speak to God ; in the events of the 
 day, tell him how much you need and depend on 
 him. In mom.ents of weakness, ask him for 
 strength ; in seasons of pain, petition for con- 
 tentment. He will of his riches abundantly 
 supply your need. But you must deal faithfully 
 with yourself, and humbly and perseveringly 
 with him. Be not content with merely saying, 
 Christ died for sinners. Try to get an evidence 
 that you have a personal interest in him. This 
 may be known by the state of your heart towards 
 him. ‘‘ We love him because he first loved us.” 
 His love produces love, and our love to him 
 proves that he has loved, and does love us. Are 
 you ignorant? he is wisdom. Are you guilty? 
 he is righteousness. Are you unholy? he is 
 sanctification. Are you a captive ? he is redemp- 
 tion. What is he not to the sinner ? his streno^th 
 is perfect in the believer’s weakness. He was 
 
342 MR. Richmond’s letters 
 
 tempted in all points like as we are, and there- 
 fore knows how to succour them that are tempted. 
 O my child ! if you can only cleave to him, and 
 all that he is, and all he has promised to be, no- 
 thing can harm you. Meditate on these things, 
 and may God make them quite and entirely your 
 own. Now for a text for reflection. ‘‘In all 
 our afflictions he was afflicted.” 
 
 “Not a pang ever distressed our bodies, nor 
 a trial our hearts, but Jesus has felt it, ' and he 
 not only felt it in himself, but he feels it for and 
 in us. What a consolation is here ! This thought 
 has supported thousands in their trouble. May 
 it support you. Behold Christ in every thing, 
 see him every where, acknowledge him in every 
 trial ; for he sympathises in all the trials of them 
 that are his. They have not one pain too many. 
 Even sufferings will all work together for good to 
 
 them that love him. I wish my loved H 
 
 may see, feel, believe, and enjoy this encou- 
 raging thought, and make it her own. God love 
 and bless you. So prays. 
 
 Your affectionate Father, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 On another occasion he writes : — 
 
TO HIS DAUGHTER. 
 
 343 
 
 ‘‘ Dear Love. 
 
 The heart of man is deceitful above all 
 things, and desperately wicked, who can know 
 it ? So said the prophet of old, and so will every 
 one .say that knows the plague of his own heart. 
 I want you to employ your whole time now in 
 studying your heart, that you may increasingly 
 feel the need of a Saviour. Who else can cleanse 
 your heart, but he who died for its salvation. 
 Do not be contented with a little religion, 
 a little knowledge, a little hope. Press for- 
 ward to the enjoyment of a great and gracious 
 religion, much knowledge of Christ, and a glo- 
 rious hope full of immortality. I am indeed 
 most anxious that you may now in right earnest 
 seek and find the Lord. “ What must I do to be 
 saved? ” is a great question. How shall my deceit- 
 ful heart be renewed. Whenever I die, whither 
 shall I go ? are all questions connected with it. 
 Ask God with all your heart for a right answer. 
 
 Your affectionate Father, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 This letter was followed by another under the 
 same circumstances. 
 
 ‘‘ Dear Child, 
 
 ‘‘ Your reminding me not to forget to write 
 
344 
 
 MR. Richmond’s letters 
 
 to you, leads me to hope that you read my little 
 notes with a desire to profit by them. You do not 
 know how anxious I am for your soul’s good. 
 What God designs for you in the present illness, 
 I know not ; but this I know, that you cannot be 
 too earnest about your eternal state. You cannot 
 mourn for sin too deeply. You cannot love 
 Christ too affectionately. You cannot trust in 
 his blood and righteousness too firmly. I want 
 you to be a monument of mercy ; a believing, 
 loving, praying child. If God is pleased to 
 restore you to health, may you adorn the 
 doctrine which you have been taught, and if 
 he should see good to remove you to another 
 world, O may you sleep sweetly in Jesus. Be 
 much in prayer : “ Seek and ye shall find.” No 
 favour is too great for God to grant. You are 
 past the age of childish ignorance, and are now 
 an accountable being. 
 
 “ My H , nothing will satisfy me short 
 
 of your being a true child of God. What effect 
 have recent events produced on your mind ? 
 What desires, what fears, what hopes, what views 
 of sin and Christ ? * * * * May 
 
 God make you a joy to your affectionate Father, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 In the year 1825, an offer of marriage was 
 
TO ms DAUGHTER. 
 
 345 
 
 made to this daughter, of which Mr. R. ex- 
 pressed his cordial approbation in the follow- 
 ing short note. 
 
 ‘‘ My dear friend, 
 
 “ On consulting Mrs. R. and our dear 
 
 H . they both agree, that the beginning of July 
 
 is the earliest period at which the object in view 
 can be accomplished. So leaving it in their hands 
 I simply put my seal of approbation and consent 
 to their decision ; and I do so with a heart full of 
 love and esteem for you both. May God bless your 
 prospects, and your souls in them. I love all 
 my children too well not to say, that in com- 
 mitting H . into your hands, I give you one 
 
 of my cherished treasures, and sources of domestic 
 endearment. I feel parting with my daughter 
 the more, from the removal of my loved, my 
 much-loved Wilberforce. His death, with all its 
 affecting associations, has had a peculiar, I trust 
 a very useful effect upon all my feelings, senti- 
 ments, ministrations, prospects, and thoughts for 
 time and eternity. The subject is wound up 
 with my heart’s experience, in a way I can never 
 describe. I pray God to over-rule it for the 
 present and eternal good of myself and my dear 
 family. Your’s very truly and affectionately, 
 
 L. R. ” 
 
346 
 
 MARRIAGE ADMONITIONS. 
 
 Previous to the marriage of his daughter, Mr. 
 R. put into her hands a paper of directions 
 for her future conduct, which for simplicity, 
 affection, and sound practical wisdom, may be 
 considered one of the best dowries that a Christian 
 parent could bestow on his child. 
 
 The paper is entitled, “ Marriage admonitions 
 to H . from her affectionate father, L. R.” 
 
 ‘‘ My much loved Daughter, 
 
 “ When your sister Mary left her paternal roof, 
 I gave her a paper of admonitions, which I 
 requested her sometimes to read for her own and 
 for her father’s sake. I do the same for you, in 
 the form of a friendly string of maxims, to regulate 
 your conduct in your new and very responsible 
 situation. 
 
 1st. Aim at keeping a devoted heart for 
 God in the least and most common transactions 
 of every hour, as well as in those events which 
 may seem to call the loudest for manifestations 
 of religious conscience and principle. 
 
 ‘‘ 2nd. Pray regularly and frequently, not sel- 
 dom and occasionally, for grace to live and die by. 
 
 ‘‘ 3rd. Remember the principles and pro- 
 fessions of your father’s house, and every where 
 endeavour to preserve its character, by consistency 
 in conduct, conversation, and temper. 
 
MARRIAGE ADMONITIONS. 
 
 347 
 
 ‘‘ 4th. Form no hasty intimacies, and none 
 whatever but such as may promote seriousness 
 of heart, tongue, and demeanour. 
 
 ‘‘ 5th. Beware of cheerfulness degenerating 
 into levity, and ignorance of the world into 
 prejudice. 
 
 6th. Guard against hasty judgments of cha- 
 racter, and above all against hastily uttering 
 sentiments, and making remarks to the disparage- 
 ment of others. 
 
 ‘‘ 7th. Wherever you are, not only remember 
 that God’s eye is upon you, but imagine to your- 
 self that your husband and father are also pre- 
 sent. It may be a fanciful, but it is a profitable 
 supposition. 
 
 8th. Keep in constant recollection the wise, 
 prudent, and conscientious example of your dear 
 mother. Be cautious when in religious com- 
 pany, and endeavour to sustain a deportment 
 which may induce the excellent of the earth to 
 desire your society for their own sake as well as 
 your’s. 
 
 ‘‘ 9th. Particularly avoid making the errors, 
 failings, faults or follies of good people, either in 
 private or public matters, the subject of rash and 
 unguarded remarks. Be known for charity, 
 forbearance, and kindness. 
 
 “ 10th. Keep Christ’s golden rule, Luke vi. 31. 
 
348 
 
 MARRIAGE ADMONITIONS. 
 
 in perpetual remembrance, it is the panacea for 
 most of the evils of life, so far as they are con- 
 nected with social intercourse. 
 
 11th. Entertain no prejudices against nations, 
 churches, sects, or parties; they are the bane 
 of truth, charity, and comfort, and are directly 
 opposed to the letter and spirit of Christianity. 
 You may and ought to have a conscientious, well- 
 founded preference, but not one half-formed, ill- 
 formed prejudice against any one. 
 
 ; 12th. Be conscientious towards all, friendly 
 
 with few, intimate with fewer still, strictly confi- 
 dential with fewest of all. 
 
 “ 13th. From the hour you marry, you assume 
 the character of a matron ; be not a child- 
 ish, girlish wife ; the vows of God are upon 
 you, sustain their gravity and prudence in all 
 things. 
 
 “ 14th. If circumstances and friendly con- 
 nections lead you into the superintendance of 
 charitable institutions, enter upon your office 
 with prayer and consideration, and persevere in the 
 discharge of its duties with patience and well- 
 guided zeal. 
 
 ‘‘ 15th. Let no natural vivacity of temper, no 
 occasionally indulged sallies of humour and 
 jocularity throw a shade over the exercise of 
 solid principle. Little foolish things give a 
 
MARRIAGE ADMONITIONS. 
 
 349 
 
 colour to character, and are more easily caught 
 at than grave and good sentiments. 
 
 16th. All eyes are sure to be fixed on a 
 young wife ; beware of, while you conform to, 
 that sort of bridal publicity, which is necessarily 
 connected with every circle of residents and 
 acquaintance. 
 
 17th. Choose female intimates with circum- 
 spection ; many civil, hospitable, agreeable per- 
 sons, are far from being improving companions ; 
 we may owe and pay them the debt of civility, 
 kindness, and gratitude, and yet not be obliged 
 to give them too much of our time and affection. 
 Two or three truly Christian women form a 
 circle sufficiently large for profitable friendship. 
 
 “ 18th. In every, however small a circle of 
 acquaintance, you will find more or less of party 
 spirit, prejudice, and too great freedom of 
 remark on persons and circumstances connected 
 with them : beware of making one of these. 
 Be slow to judge, rather than swift to speak ; 
 the best Christians often fail here. 
 
 ‘‘ 19th. You are much given to laughter, my 
 dear child, and many a hearty laugh I have 
 enjoyed with you, and I would not turn your 
 laughter into sorrow, but this propensity may 
 prove a snare to you. Watch and be jealous of 
 it, banish what looks like giggling, lightness, and 
 
350 
 
 MARRIAGE ADMONITIONS. 
 
 folly, and cultivate a chastened cheerfulness and 
 simplicity of manner in all companies. 
 
 20th. Never forget that you are entering an 
 entire circle of strangers, and that a very few 
 weeks or months will establish your character 
 amongst them. 
 
 Once more, I say, think of your father’s house 
 and reputation. When I look upon myself and 
 all that belongs to me, I feel ashamed of my own 
 feeble, faint, attempts to serve God, and adorn 
 his gospel ; yet the Christian world has attached 
 to them, however undeservedly, a value, and by 
 the name and character of their father, will my 
 children be tried and appreciated. 
 
 ‘"21. Keep indelibly engraven on your heart 
 the affecting scenes of last January. A dying 
 brother’s faithful admonitions — his last words, 
 his last looks of mortal affection. Our household 
 never witnessed the like, was never so tried. 
 The memorials dwell on my heart with increasing 
 poignancy. I say less but I feel more ; there is a 
 solemn silent softening and subduing influence 
 which often overwhelms me. May you retain a 
 vivid recollection, with a perpetuated blessing, 
 of that day when our Wilberforce fled from earth 
 to heaven. 
 
 “22. Be especially attentive to the opinion 
 which your demeanor may inspire amongst your 
 
MARRIAGE ADMONITIONS. 
 
 351 
 
 husband’s relations. No doubt he has praised 
 you before them, endeavour to prove in all points 
 that he has done you no more than justice; much 
 family peace and love depends upon this. 
 
 ‘‘23. There are many excellent hints in the 
 book entitled “ A Whisper to a new married pair.” 
 I recommend them to your perusal ; and there 
 are many more excellent hints to wives and 
 women in the Bible, from Solomon, Paul, and 
 Peter ; study them well. 
 
 “24. When you think of your father, bear 
 with his infirmities, pardon his faults, but 
 remember his principles and instructions, so far as 
 they have been agreeable to the will of God. 
 
 •‘25. Be not contented with any thing short 
 of deep, devoted, diligent, decided seriousness. 
 Make not the too numerous half-hearted and 
 decent, but dubious Christians, your patterns for 
 imitation. Set your mark and standard very 
 high, and aim deliberately to regulate your 
 conduct by it. 
 
 “ 26. If you and your husband happen to differ 
 in opinion or feeling on any point, remember 
 whom you have promised to love, honour, and 
 obey, and this will settle all things. 
 
 “27. Of your husband’s warm affections towards 
 you, I entertain no doubt ; strive to preserve 
 them by daily elevation of character, not so much 
 
352 
 
 MARRIAGE ADMONITIONS. 
 
 by fondness as by prudence and dignity. Study 
 his character, he will study your’s. May you 
 both learn to raise a fabric of connubial happiness 
 by mutual wisdom and love. 
 
 “28. I trust you are taught in the school 
 of Christ ; rely not, however, on the past privi- 
 leges of education, but seek present evidences, 
 such as will comfort you under sudden alarms 
 and distresses, should they occur. Try to get 
 acquainted with yourself by a review of your 
 whole life, and often carry to the Lord in prayer 
 and confidence, the results of examination into 
 your heart and conduct. 
 
 “ 29. Observe great simplicity and plainness 
 in dress. A clergyman’s wife should be a 
 pattern to others in these respects ; there is a 
 just complaint made of many females who profess 
 to be religious, that they are far too shewy and 
 gay in their outward apparel ; — remember the 
 apostle’s injunction — 1 Peter iii. 1 — 6. 
 
 “30. Never think yourself too old to learn ; 
 the most valuable period of education is perhaps 
 from twenty to forty years of age. The matured 
 mind isjittest to become the little child, _ 
 
 “31. You are bidding farewell to your father’s 
 house, the home of your infancy, childhood, and 
 youth ; yet the remembrance of the principles 
 in which you have been educated should follow 
 
CONVERSATION WITH THE AUTHOR, 353 
 
 you through life, wherever divine Providence 
 may see fit to call you. May they be a guide to 
 you at all times, and a consolation to you in your 
 final removal from a sinful and changing world. 
 
 Christ has been made known to you fully 
 and freely : let Christ be your all in all, both 
 now and for ever. Receive my parting advice 
 in love, and be assured, my beloved child, it 
 comes from the affectionate heart 
 
 of your dear father, 
 
 L. R.” 
 
 A short time before her marriage, Miss H. R. 
 paid a visit to . I was gratified in discover- 
 
 ing in a young woman, not yet twenty years 
 of age, so much thought and good sense on the 
 subjects of our conversation. In common with the 
 rest of her family, she entertained a deep sense 
 of her father’s affection, consistency, and uniform 
 anxiety for the spiritual welfare of his children. 
 
 When I adverted to her responsibility on the 
 ground of past privileges, and to the necessity 
 of a personal applicationff of the principles in 
 which she had been educated, she observed, 
 “ I know that religion requires something more 
 of me than respect for my father,” and she then 
 proceeded to state to me some of the perplexities 
 of her mind on certain doctrines, which led me to 
 
354 CONVERSATION WITH THE AUTHOR. 
 
 remark that young people were apt to begin 
 where they should end, and as an old author 
 has quaintly said, wish to matriculate at the 
 university of election, before they have passed 
 through the grammar-school of repentance and 
 faith.” I advised her to lay aside the considera- 
 tion of the deep things of God. These, said I, 
 are far beyond the range of a young disciple. 
 The time may arrive when such subjects may be 
 studied with advantage, for it is a great mistake 
 to suppose that God has revealed any thing which 
 is unserviceable to his church, or needless to be 
 understood ; but infancy, youth, and manhood, are 
 not to be fed with the same aliment. I have no 
 wish to conceal from you that my mind is made 
 up on these subjects, though I am far from being 
 confident in the certainty of my own conclusions 
 on points which are debateable and still debated 
 amongst good and wise men ; but I feel no 
 hesitation in dissuading you from employing your 
 thoughts on speculations, which at present will 
 retard rather than aid your progress. To ascertain 
 your conversion, and the reality of your piety, by 
 the plain practical tests of the Bible, ought to be 
 your chief and indeed only concern. Admit that 
 God calls, keeps, and alone can bring you to 
 heaven, and you know all that is essential to 
 your salvation. 
 
CONVERSATION WITH THE AUTHOR, 
 
 355 
 
 “ Yes, but if God does not call” — 
 
 Then call on him, “ Turn thou me, O good 
 Lord, and so shall I be turned.” 
 
 We made a transition to her approaching 
 marriage. I alluded to the pleasing prospect of 
 being united to a man of principle and piety, 
 and to the satisfaction her father had expressed 
 in the anticipation of that event. 
 
 She requested me to converse with her on the 
 duties of her new relation. 
 
 You entertain, my dear young friend, no doubt, 
 the usual expectations of happiness in married 
 life, and I do not wish to damp them ; but I am 
 cohipelled to acknowledge that I have not wit- 
 nessed much conjugal felicity. People jog on in 
 life, because they cannot do otherwise ; if they are 
 not indifferent to each other, nor annoy each 
 other by contention and ill humour, they still 
 appear to me to derive but little satisfaction from 
 their connection ; little in comparison of what the 
 relation is intended and calculated to inspire. 
 
 ‘‘ What are the causes of the disappointment 
 in such cases ? ” 
 
 Shall we say that there is want of affinity of 
 character in the parties — that the connection has 
 been formed on some selfish calculation — that a 
 mutual though not designed deception has been 
 practised — that greater demands are made than 
 
 2 A 2 
 
356 CONVERSATION WITH THE AUTHOR. 
 
 a fallen nature can answer — that people are more 
 tenacious of their claims than of their duties, and 
 forget that affection needs cultivation as much or 
 more, after, than before marriage ? 
 
 All these causes are fatal to happiness, yet 
 where they may not exist, much uneasiness often 
 arises in married life, from a disregard to the 
 ordinance of God in that relation. Reference 
 should be made to his rule and appointment. It 
 is true he has made the man a sort of autocrat, 
 (o Se<r7ro7vj?) — tlic head of a house to superintend 
 and direct every important movement in it, but 
 though entrusted with the chief power, he is 
 responsible to God for the use he makes of it. 
 Authority is granted to no one for the purpose 
 of mere self-gratification. The trust is abused 
 when it is perverted to this end. Man is con- 
 stituted the head, for the good of the members; 
 and he must rule with tenderness, forbearance, 
 and affection. Matthew Henry has prettily 
 . expressed the idea, God made woman out of 
 man’s side. Not out of his head to rule, nor 
 out of his feet to be trampled on, but out of his 
 rib which lies near his heart, to be loved and 
 cherished.” And when man forgets that his reign 
 is the dominion of affection, he provokes God, by 
 an abuse and misuse of power, to resign his house 
 to disorder and rebellion. 
 
CONVERSATION WITH THE AUTHOR. 
 
 357 
 
 The wife has also her place. She is equal 
 in nature but not in relation. She must shine 
 by reflection, and will suffer an eclipse in her 
 dignity, and bankruptcy in her happiness, when- 
 ever she sets up for herself, and affects equality 
 and independence. Her earthly hopes and sat- 
 isfactions should emanate from her husband, and 
 centre in him. The rule of duty for a Christian 
 wife is, ‘‘ in and for the Lord.” Her obedience 
 must not vary with the capricious influences 
 of feeling, but rest on the firmer basis of con- 
 formity to the ordinance of God. Affection may 
 make duty delightful, but it is not the foundation 
 of it. When a wife has just reason to disapprove 
 of her husband’s conduct, she may reason and 
 remonstrate ; occasions may unhappily arise in 
 which conscience requires dissent, and even diso- 
 bedience ; but in general it is a woman’s privilege, 
 as well as duty, to call her husband ‘‘ Lord,” and 
 to keep within the limits which God has wisely 
 and graciously appointed. 
 
 My young friend thanked me for my instruc- 
 tions, which she assured me were in unison with 
 her own views, and that she meant to enter on 
 her new relation with these principles. 
 
 The interval between her marriage and early 
 death, might have been more fully described by 
 one who is best able to appreciate her conduct. 
 
358 
 
 HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 But motives of delicacy and regard to his feel- 
 ings, have restrained me from making an appli- 
 cation to him, and led me to prefer the insertion 
 of an extract from her mother’s letter. Mrs. R. 
 vs^rites : 
 
 Her time w^as chiefly spent in the retired 
 duties of domestic life. She seldom engaged in 
 any thing of a public nature. She became a 
 most exemplary and conscientious wife — a fond 
 and tender mother to her little boy, whom she 
 regarded with anxiety, and was preparing to 
 train in the principles and piety of her dear 
 father. Increasingly beloved by her husband, 
 whose comfort and happiness on his return from 
 his daily and laborious occupations, she assidu- 
 ously studied to promote — her short day of life 
 sweetly glided on, and, like the flower of the 
 desert, she attracted little notice beyond the 
 immediate circle of the few friends to whom she 
 attached herself.” 
 
 In September 1828, Mrs. was confined 
 
 with her second child. An account of the event 
 and its afflictive results, was communicated at 
 the time in the letter which follows. 
 
 ******=»►# 
 
 I saw our poor H in the afternoon after 
 
 her accouchement. She then appeared extremely 
 
HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 359 
 
 well, and nursing a sweet infant with a mother’s 
 joy. On Wednesday she complained of pain, 
 and passed a very restless night. The next 
 
 day Mr. A called in a physician, who 
 
 seemed uneasy at her symptoms, and enjoined 
 the utmost quiet, particularly requesting that 
 no one should speak of her danger, or say any 
 thing to excite or agitate her mind. On Friday 
 she grew worse, and inquired if there was 
 danger, expressing her own conviction that she 
 should not recover. Her friends, in compliance 
 with the strict injunctions of the medical man, 
 discouraged her inquiries, and endeavoured to 
 draw her mind to other subjects. But in reply, 
 she said, “ Is this kind, to keep my thoughts 
 from eternity ? I cannot realize death, and you 
 will not help me. Can I think too much of 
 death ? ” She then inquired for me, and de- 
 sired that I might be sent for. Aware of the 
 great change in her countenance as I entered 
 the room, she kept her eyes shut, remarking to 
 the nurse, ‘‘ I will keep my eyes shut, I shall 
 be so agitated at seeing my dear sister’s distress, 
 she will see me so changed.” She was indeed 
 changed ; her countenance, which only a week 
 before had the bright hue of health, was now 
 
 pale and wan. Oh ! my dear Mrs. F , how 
 
 awful is the execution of the sentence, ‘‘ The 
 
360 
 
 HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 soul that sinneth it shall die.’’ Even where 
 Christ has taken away the sting, the expiring 
 agony of death is terrible. Is it not a strange 
 infatuation that our latter moments should ever 
 be absent from our thoughts — that we can trifle 
 where we ought to tremble, and be comparatively 
 indifferent to the only event which is of real 
 importance to us? 
 
 “ I was earnestly requested, before I went into 
 the sick room, to show no alarm at her danger, 
 and avoid conversing upon death. But I gazed at 
 her marble countenance for a few moments, and 
 all hope of her life fled. The particular ap- 
 pearance of death cannot be mistaken, and I 
 resolved to speak plainly to her of her situation. 
 
 But H began of her own accord. She put 
 
 her hand into mine as I sat down beside 
 
 her. ‘‘ F , love, we meet as dying sisters 
 
 this time.” Dear H , I replied, tell me how 
 
 you feel. ‘‘ F , 1 feel that in a few hours, I 
 
 must stand before the judgment-seat of Christ, 
 and there render an account of all the deeds done 
 in the body, and my sins press heavy upon me. 
 F , talk to me about death. I shall not reco- 
 ver. I have felt assured of this from the first, 
 but no one will talk to me, even my dear husband 
 shrinks from it, but I 77iust speak of death now. 
 I hope you will converse with me.” I assured her 
 
HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 361 
 
 of my intention and willingness to do so, and I 
 began to inquire into the state of her mind. She 
 lamented her sad neglect of religion in days past, 
 that she had greatly failed to improve opportuni- 
 ties, and had grievously put off preparation for a 
 
 dying hour. “ Now, dear F , I feel the value 
 
 of time — now I see why I was sent into this 
 world ; my whole life ought to have been a 
 
 preparation for this hour. Oh ! dear, dear F , 
 
 how time has been trifled away.” 
 
 “ She seemed exceedingly distressed at these 
 recollections, and particularly referred to the 
 instructions and example of her dear father — and 
 expressed in the strongest terms her gratitude to 
 him for teaching her to honour religion from her 
 
 infancy. Now, F , I feel his worth. Oh, 
 
 what a father we had — how his prayers, and 
 entreaties, and holy example rise before me. I 
 never, never can express my love for my father. 
 On a death-bed I have learnt his value” — then 
 adding, “ But on a death-bed I have learnt my 
 responsibilities for such a parent. I shall soon 
 have to answer for many things, but I have most 
 to answer for in having had such a parent. I 
 have enjoyed unparalleled mercies through child- 
 hood and youth. Oh ! I have much — very much 
 to answer for. If / am saved, it will indeed be a 
 miracle of miracles — but, F , I have a hope. 
 
362 
 
 HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 and I cannot give up hope — Christ is my hope ; 
 his blood can cleanse me from my sins, and for 
 his sake even I may find pardon.” 
 
 ‘‘She then named several of her friends and 
 relations who she thought would be shocked at 
 the intelligence of her early and unexpected 
 death. She sent kind messages to them. The 
 poor people of Turvey, and recollections of the 
 home of her youth seemed much in her thoughts, 
 and deeply affected her. “ F , give my affec- 
 
 tionate love to them all. Turvey is very dear 
 to me.” 
 
 “ The state of one of her intimate friends dis- 
 tressed her. “ How I regret (alluding to this lady) 
 that our conversation and intercourse has been so 
 little profitable to either of us. I wish I could see 
 — — before I die. I have much I want to say to 
 her. I want to press religion on her mind. O that 
 I could see her areal Christian before I die.” She 
 spoke much of her dear aunt, who had kindly 
 nursed her all the week with the patient tender- 
 ness and affection of a mother. “ I hope my 
 beloved aunt knows Christ and his doctrines. I 
 think I shall meet her in heaven.” She entreated 
 me to explain the nature of religion to the nurse, 
 “ I am too weak to talk to her now, but I hope 
 
 you will, dear F . 1 am afraid she has not a 
 
 right knowledge of religion. She has been telling 
 
HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 363 
 
 me, there can be no doubt of my going to heaven, 
 because I am so good and amiable. Oh ! this is 
 false, this is error, this is no foundation to build 
 on for eternity. Explain to her the nature of sin 
 and salvation by Christ. I cannot bear the 
 thought of leaving that kind and faithful creature 
 in ignorance. I have been talking to ” allud- 
 
 ing to one of the servants, and have tried to shew 
 her the importance of preparing for early death. I 
 wish I had strength to speak to nurse also.” 
 
 H then returned to the subject of her own 
 
 departure, Oh ! I am frightened when I think of 
 dying. I have not accustomed myself to think 
 of dying as I ought to have done.” I suggested 
 to her mind what appeared to me best suited to 
 her case — that Christ was our lamp in that dreary 
 valley — our strong consolation in the bitter pains 
 of death. She replied, “ I can trust Christ with my 
 soul. I can hope he will pardon and save it ; 
 but I feel alarmed about the bodily pains of death 
 — they are fearful in prospect ; but I will not 
 dwell on the future, it disturbs me. I will trust 
 God.” I said, “ When thou hadst overcome the 
 sharpness of death,” interrupting me she ex- 
 claimed with great emotion, thou didst open the 
 kingdom of heaven to all believers.” 
 
 ‘‘ She now referred to Wilberforce, and said, 
 “ Poor Willy went through this awful time before 
 
364 
 
 HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 me, but all was safe and happy with him. I trust 
 it will be so with me. My dear dear father, he 
 also has gone through death. None of us know 
 what sorrow he endured in that awful hour. He 
 was indeed a loss to us all, but I am now glad he 
 is gone before me.” 
 
 ‘‘The prospect of leaving her infants agitated her 
 mind throughout the day. ‘-To be left without a 
 mother ! oh this is hard ! Oh God, take care of my 
 poor babes.” Her chief conversation about the 
 children was with her husband, and I believe she 
 gave him many directions about their education. 
 
 “ On Saturday, my mother arrived. H was 
 
 too ill to converse with her, but she assured her 
 that her own mind was in peace. 
 
 “ My sister appeared to be dying the whole of 
 Saturday night, but very gradually. She begged 
 we would all leave the room, as the evening came 
 on, and that she might be left alone with her 
 husband, who sat the whole of the night beside 
 her, to converse as her strength would permit. 
 
 “ At six o’clock on Sunday morning, she desired 
 that we might be called into the room. We found 
 
 Mr. supporting her in his arms ; death was on 
 
 her countenance, she breathed with difficulty and 
 was quite cold. She said, “ I wish to see Mr. — ,” 
 (the medical man who attended her in her confine- 
 ment.) When he came, she inquired of him, how 
 
HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 365 
 
 long she might live ; he said, Perhaps three hours. 
 
 She requested her husband to send for Mr. W . 
 
 On his arrival she exerted her last strength to 
 converse with him, but their conversation was 
 carried on in so low a tone that I could not catch 
 
 the whole. I heard my sister question Mr. W 
 
 most earnestly about a true and false faith, and 
 whether he thought her faith sincere and genuine. 
 He spoke very decidedly of the safety of her state, 
 and she appeared to receive comfort from his 
 opinion. At her request he administered the 
 Lord’s Supper. We knelt round her bed in silence 
 and deep anguish. She clasped her hands, and 
 seemed to be in earnest prayer the whole time. 
 
 At the conclusion she thanked Mr. W and 
 
 said, ‘‘You have refreshed me in body and mind. 
 This is the hour of extremity, but Christ is all.” 
 She then became much oppressed, and struggled 
 hard for breath, and in a little time asked for her 
 children. When the eldest was brought, she 
 clasped him for a moment to her breast, and said, 
 “ This boy has been my idol.” She next begged 
 the infant might be brought to her. “ I want to 
 see if I can bring my will to God’s will.” The 
 babe was placed in her arms, she looked at it, was 
 much agitated, and exclaimed, “ Oh ! take it away, 
 take it away, I cannot bear this 1 O God ! take 
 care of my darling babe !” She followed it with 
 
36G 
 
 HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 her eyes as the nurse carried it away, and seemed 
 to be in prayer for it. She then took leave of each 
 of us separately. To her mother she said, ‘‘ I 
 shall soon be with my dear papa.” The interview 
 with her husband was very affecting. She was 
 
 most ardently attached to Mr. . She desired 
 
 him to kneel down and commit her soul to God in 
 the agony of departure. Presently she whispered, 
 ‘‘ I cannot hear now.” Then — “ My sight is fail- 
 ing — Oh ! this is death.” She begged we would 
 keep perfect silence, and lay her straight down on 
 the bed. We stood motionless and gazing on her. 
 She made several attempts to speak, but in vain, 
 but I heard her breathe out very faintly, Now it 
 begins to look lovely ! ” A moment after, fixing 
 her eyes upward, and smiling with a placid coun- 
 tenance, she drew a last deep breath, and all was 
 hushed in silence. 
 
 ‘'Are we not allowed, my dear Mrs. F , to 
 
 believe, that my sister has joined angels and arch- 
 angels, and all the company of heaven. Her short 
 and painful illness afforded less scope for the 
 exercises and evidences of a renewed heart than we 
 witnessed in the last hours of our beloved Wilber- 
 force. Yet here we have not been left to sorrow 
 as without hope. " Beloved for the father’s sake” 
 seemed inscribed in characters of mercy on her 
 death-bed. The effect of her education and early 
 
HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 367 
 
 acquaintance with the principles of religion could 
 not be mistaken. Her father’s prayers and un- 
 wearied and affectionate solicitude for his child’s 
 spiritual welfare — the ‘‘ line upon line and precept 
 upon precept” which he pressed on her mind — 
 together with poor Willy’s earnest addresses and 
 intreaties in his dying hour, seemed to recur to 
 her with new force, and poured a flood of light, 
 conviction, and consolation on her soul, leading 
 her in penitence and faith to rest all her hopes on 
 that one oblation, propitiation, and satisfaction, 
 which was once made for sin by the Lamb of 
 God, in whose precious blood all transgression, 
 known and unknown, is washed away for ever. 
 
 Believe me, my dear Mrs. F 
 
 I am your most affectionate, &c.” 
 
 I would not be thought to cast a shade on the 
 hopes so affectionately expressed in the above 
 letter, the subject of which is, I trust, a happy 
 spirit in heaven. Yet I feel it necessary, as a 
 Christian minister, to subjoin a few salutary 
 cautions, especially to young people, against too 
 exclusive a reliance on what may take place in 
 our latter moments. The Scripture makes an 
 appeal to living hours and holy fruits, and these 
 are the tests on which we can more safely depend. 
 The gold passes through the fire, and the result 
 
368 
 
 HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 of the purifying process alone determines its cha- 
 racter. It is the language of inspiration, ‘‘Asa 
 man sows, so shall he reap.” 
 
 Let me remind those young persons whose 
 opinions are correct, but who are conscious that 
 their hearts are yet far from God, not to run the 
 hazard, the tremendous hazard of their souls, by 
 delay, nor expect peace and safety at last, unless 
 they are now seeking to lay up the support of a 
 faith which worketh by love and obedience. “ It 
 is the tenor of the life, not that of the few morbid 
 and suffermg scenes which precede dissolution, 
 that fixes the character. We are not authorized 
 by Scripture to place any dependance on the last 
 periods of sinking nature, through which the 
 Christian may be called to pass to his eternal 
 reward.” ^ 
 
 * Life of the Rev, T. Scott, p, 515. 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 369 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 If I have done well and as is fitting the story, it is that which 
 I desired ; but if slenderly and meanly, it is that which I could 
 , attain unto. — 2 Maccabees. 
 
 In reviewing what has now been submitted 
 to the public, there seems little need of further 
 comment, since it is probable that the intelligent 
 reader has anticipated every suggestion which I 
 might be disposed to offer. 
 
 Of Mr. Richmond’s plans for his children I 
 must leave the Christian parent to form his 
 own opinion ; observing, that whether he adopts 
 them in whole or in part, he should never 
 forget that instruction, however large or correct, 
 is not education — that true piety consists not in a 
 form, in its most scrupulous use, nor in a specula- 
 tion claiming the bare assent and approval of the 
 mind, nor in an influence occasionally to be felt. 
 It is a principle pervading every faculty of a 
 man’s moral nature. Religion is estimated far 
 below its real character, when it is regarded as an 
 
 2 B 
 
370 
 
 CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 affair of dutiful necessity, or as a medicine taken 
 for ulterior relief, rather than as a well-spring 
 of life and health, to which the soul turns for 
 satisfaction and delight, and without which it can 
 neither be peaceful nor happy. The truths of the 
 Bible may be taught in their utmost purity, and 
 yet, unless their spirit be transfused into the affec- 
 tions of the heart and the habits of the life, they 
 will fall short of the effect and design of real 
 Christianity. Mere knowledge of religion, without 
 a corresponding feeling and practice, often issues 
 in a fatal apathy, and forms a character which 
 becomes at last impervious to every sacred im- 
 pression. It has been well said by a profound 
 moralist, ‘‘To handle holy things without feeling, 
 is to be cauterized in the end.” It has been 
 clearly shewn on what principle Mr. Richmond 
 conducted his plan of education; — that his grand 
 aim . was to touch the heart, and to make duty 
 and delight synonymous. Yet some caution is 
 necessary in the exclusive application of strictly 
 religious principles. There are a variety of motives 
 which act most salutarily on present advantage, 
 and which impose powerful restraints on the 
 impulses of a corrupt nature ; and if we strip a 
 youth of all regard for his interest or reputation, 
 we expose him, in the absence of higher motives, 
 to be driven along by the current of his own 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 37 1 
 
 passions, till he makes shipwreck of all that is 
 valuable for this world and the next. To this 
 neglect of inferior motives I am disposed to 
 ascribe the misconduct of many children of reli- 
 gious parents ; and it therefore becomes an inquiry 
 of no small importance (though of difficult and 
 delicate character,) whether the entire disuse 
 of subordinate influences is wise, or even safe in 
 a course of education. May we not be guided 
 in this inquiry by the sanction of the Supreme 
 Ruler himself,^ who, while he taught the more 
 excellent way, formed laws for human conduct, 
 and held out motives for obedience, not always 
 the best in themselves, but the best in refer- 
 ence to the circumstances and capacities of his 
 creatures. Nor am I inclined to reject any influ- 
 ence for present advantage, where there is nothing- 
 opposed to the spirit or command of religion. 
 
 Another circumstance which is often under- 
 valued in education, is the establishment of good 
 habits, and that too, prior to the full admission 
 of good principles. Habits, it is true, are formed 
 by a series of actions, and actions must spring 
 from principles of some kind ; but the principle 
 at first may be little more than custom or associa- 
 tion ; yet are the habits valuable, as preparing a 
 
 ® Ezekiel xx. 2.5. 
 g B 2 
 
372 
 
 CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 future powerful co-operation with right principle ; 
 for nothing proves a greater obstacle to truth in 
 opinion, than error in conduct. There is a deep 
 and intimate knowledge of the influence of habit 
 in that declaration of our blessed Lord, If any 
 man will do the will of my heavenly Father, he 
 shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God.” 
 (John vii. 17.) 
 
 Corrupt practice is a fruit of darkness, and 
 increaseth darkness ; and though correct habits 
 are not the cause of divine light, they prepare 
 the soil for the heavenly seed, and clear away 
 the weeds and thorns which would check its 
 vegetation, and retard its growth. The language 
 which reflects on human agency as useless, and 
 even presumptuous, until a divine power has 
 commenced its mighty operation, is not in accord- 
 ance with reason or Scripture, and a propensity 
 to form systems, and distort the doctrines of reli- 
 gion, is often connected with indolence and 
 selfishness, which shrink from the labour of 
 instruction. 
 
 Mr. R.’s great care to regulate the private 
 intercourse of his children, is another feature 
 in his system of education which deserves parti- 
 cular attention. It is evident from one remark in 
 his own memoranda, that he intended to have 
 urged this topic in the projected memoir of his 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 373 
 
 son, “ The great value of scientific and rational 
 amusement to supply materials for good and 
 useful conversation.” 
 
 The unprofitable manner in w^hich hours of 
 social intercourse are too often spent, has been 
 lamented by many. It may not be desirable, nor 
 is it always profitable, to introduce strictly reli- 
 gious subjects on every occasion. Sacred things 
 should be handled with reverence and feeling, or 
 we shall be in danger of making an unholy use of 
 that which is holy. But it is very possible to con- 
 verse on ordinary things in the spirit of religion ; 
 we may aim to improve ourselves or others, and 
 not merely pass away the time in tales of wonder. 
 We cannot be walking with God in a heavenly 
 tender frame of mind, or with any just sense of 
 our position as standing on the brink of eternity, 
 while we propose to ourselves no higher object 
 than amusement — no accession of ideas — nor ele- 
 vation of devout affections. Can our communi- 
 cations ‘‘ administer grace to the hearer” ivheii the 
 amount, if written down, ivould shame a wise man, 
 and distress the mind of a sincere Christian ? 
 
 There is also with young and old a prevalent 
 and bad habit, of talking of persons, rather than 
 of things. This is seldom innocent, and often 
 pregnant with many evils. Such conversation 
 insensibly slides into detraction ; and by dwelling 
 
374 
 
 CONCLUDING REMARKS, 
 
 on offences, we expose our own souls to conta- 
 gion, and are betrayed into feelings of pride, envy, 
 and jealousy ; and even when we speak of others 
 in terms of commendation, “ we are sure to come 
 in with a but at the last, and drive a nail into our 
 neighbour’s reputation.” — Bacon. 
 
 The disuse of good conversation proceeds from 
 poverty of ideas, no less than from want of heart- 
 religion. Persons select light and trivial sub- 
 jects, because they have no materials for a higher 
 interchange of sentiment. If more pains were 
 taken to cultivate the mind, there would be less 
 difficulty in speaking to edification, and less need 
 of having recourse to amusements, which differ 
 little in their effect and influence from others, 
 which, by common consent, have been denounced 
 as inconsistent with vital religion. 
 
 If the Domestic Portraiture” should fall into 
 the hands of any one who has been accustomed 
 to associate the idea of folly and delusion with a 
 serious profession of religion, he may observe in 
 what is there detailed, that a sincere Christian 
 may be a man of taste and intelligence, and that 
 it is not necessary to be illiterate or enthusiastic 
 to believe the Bible, and regulate a family in 
 accordance with its principles ; — that elegant 
 accomplishments and a becoming attention to the 
 usages of society, as far as they are innocent or 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 375 
 
 useful, may be found in alliance with the warm- 
 est devotion and most conscientious regard to 
 the laws of God. 
 
 In taking farewell of this little work which I 
 have now brought to a conclusion, one thought 
 enters my mind, and produces deep emotion. I 
 have increased the responsibilities of Mr. Rich- 
 mond’s family, by holding them up to public 
 observation. Wherever the present volume may 
 obtain circulation, their father’s honour, and — a 
 still more important consideration — their father’s 
 principles, will be intimately connected with their 
 conduct, and the value of them be appreciated 
 by their effects. His eye is no longer upon them, 
 nor his bright example before them, neither has 
 every member of his family enjoyed the full 
 benefit of his affectionate and careful superin- 
 tendance. But I am persuaded that the traces he 
 has left are too deeply engraven ever to be erased 
 from their remembrance, and that a father’s 
 blessing will follow them to the latest hour of 
 their earthly pilgrimage. It is my heart's desire 
 and prayer to God, that they may retain a lively 
 recollection of his instructions, and continue to 
 walk worthy of their vocation, irreproveable and 
 without rebuke, until they rejoin their departed 
 relatives, and with them ‘‘ praise God for such a 
 father.” 
 
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APPENDIX. 
 
 FRAGMENTS RELATING TO LYDIA G- , 
 
 OF NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE. 
 
 The present volume, as it has been already 
 stated, bears the title, and is formed upon the 
 plan, which had been adopted by Mr. Rich- 
 mond himself, for a work which he had projected, 
 and had, in fact, commenced. But there was 
 also found among his papers, the outline and 
 materials of another narrative, intended as 
 a companion to his ‘‘ Young Cottager,” and 
 
 Dairyman’s Daughter,” and which would pro- 
 bably, if it had been filled up by him, have been 
 found little inferior, either in interest or in 
 usefulness, to those highly-honoured memorials 
 of the triumphs of divine grace. 
 
 But it must not be concealed, that the more 
 interesting parts of this story are, as far as this 
 world is concerned, for ever lost. The great 
 charm of Mr. Richmond’s former sketches, lay in 
 that part of the story which was personal, and 
 
378 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 which was peculiarly his own. His conversa- 
 tions, and his meditations, formed always the 
 most attractive and heart-affecting portions of the 
 tale, and those, in the present case, are unre- 
 corded. That part of the sketch which consisted 
 of the contributions of others, remains, being 
 found carefully preserved among his papers, and 
 bearing the title already affixed to it, which 
 he had adopted for the narrative itself, which 
 it was his intention shortly to write. That 
 purpose, like the plan of the Domestic Por- 
 traiture,” was arrested by the approach of his 
 last illness ; and all that can now be done, is, to 
 ‘‘ gather up the fragments that remain, that 
 nothing be lost.” 
 
 The title of the projected tract, as left in his 
 own hand, is as follows : — 
 
 MEMORIALS OF LYDIA G , 
 
 Of Newcastle-on-Tyne ; who died Feb. 14, 1825, 
 aged 17 years; a spiritual child of ‘ Little Jane, 
 the Young Cottager.’ ” 
 
 The few circumstances which are recorded, of 
 one whose life was passed without incident and 
 in obscurity, will naturally range themselves in 
 order of time as follows : — 
 
 The usually trifling and immaterial circum- 
 stance of her being named, did not pass without 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 379 
 
 Christian feelings being called into exercise. Her 
 mother said, “ I wish to call the child Lydia.” 
 The father answered, ‘‘ Call her what thou 
 pleasest, my dear.” But the eldest sister asked. 
 
 Why would you call her Lydia, mother, we 
 have no relation of that name.” The mother 
 answered, I will name her after Lydia, ‘the 
 seller of purple,’ my dear ; — and may the Lord 
 bless her, and “ open her heart,” as He did that 
 of Lydia in the days of the apostles.” 
 
 It is easy to trace in this apparently minute 
 circumstance, the character of the parent’s mind. 
 Little Lydia was offered to the Lord, in the 
 sacrament of Baptism, in faith. The promise, 
 “ I will pour my Spirit upon thy seed, and my 
 blessing upon thy offspring,” had been often 
 pleaded in her behalf before a throne of grace : 
 and here, in the ordinary course of God’s 
 dealings with mankind, we may trace the first 
 flowings forth of that purpose of mercy which 
 became afterwards so clearly manifest in the 
 happy end of this child. 
 
 Lydia manifested from her infancy, what is 
 called “ a good disposition.” She was never 
 known to utter a falsehood, or even to stoop to 
 an equivocation. Simplicity and uprightness 
 marked every stage of her short existence. 
 Towards her latter days, a striking instance of 
 
380 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 this occurred. Her elder sister, under whose 
 care she then was placed, was naturally very 
 anxious as to her health ; she being then in a 
 very precarious, and almost dangerous state. 
 Lydia, who was then about seventeen years of 
 age, was usually very obedient to her sister, 
 but she felt much pain at being prohibited, in 
 bad weather, from attending the public ministry 
 of the Word. On one occasion, when thus left at 
 home, she stole out to the evening service. Her 
 disobedience was undetected, and would have 
 remained unknown. But such was the tender- 
 ness of her conscience, that she could neither 
 receive any enjoyment from joining in the wor- 
 ship or hearing the word, — nor could she rest, 
 till she had confessed her fault, and obtained 
 forgiveness ; although no detection or even sus- 
 picion would have followed, had she maintained 
 her usual silence. 
 
 Her mother died in the faith of Christ when 
 Lydia was only seven years of age. The child’s 
 health had long appeared to be delicate and 
 unsatisfactory ; and shortly after her mother’s 
 death, her case was submitted to a physician and 
 a surgeon of eminence. They agreed that her 
 disease was aneurism of the heart, for which there 
 was no cure ; but which bleeding might relieve or 
 retard. This mode of alleviation was resorted to. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 381 
 
 but her strength was thereby reduced to the lowest 
 point consistent with the continuance of life. 
 
 It was about this time that ‘‘ The Young Cotta- 
 was placed in her hands. She made no 
 remark upon it ; nor was any one aware that its 
 perusal had produced any unusual effect upon 
 her mind. But her father, writing after her death, 
 says, ‘‘ Although she sat under an evangelical 
 ministry, yet, until she read that inestimable little 
 book, I believe she never felt the depravity of her 
 own heart, nor sought its renewal by the Holy 
 Spirit.’’ 
 
 In the course, however, of a few months after, 
 Mr. Richmond himself, in one of his journeys for 
 the Jews’ Society, visited Newcastle. Lydia’s 
 health, at this time, was in the most delicate and 
 precarious state. Her disease rendered quietness 
 and seclusion almost necessary to the hourly 
 continuance of her life. 
 
 Her sisters were led to hear Mr. Richmond 
 preach, and they mentioned his name in her hear- 
 ing. Her attention was instantly aroused, and 
 she eagerly exclaimed, Oh ! I must go and hear 
 him ! He taught little Jane the way to heaven, 
 and he will teach me.” Her sister told her that 
 she could not permit her to think of it that even- 
 ing, (Sunday,) ill as she was ; but that Mr. Rich- 
 mond was to preach again on the Thursday, when 
 
382 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 she might perhaps be better. But,” she added, 
 
 how will you be able to get there — you cannot 
 walk?” ‘‘Odear!” she answered, ‘‘but I will 
 try, and we will go by the bye ways, and you 
 will carry me when I cannot get on.” In the 
 interval between Sunday and Thursday, her sister 
 remarks, she was more careful of her health, and 
 anxious to gain strength, than young people 
 usually are when expecting to join a pleasure 
 party. The sisters set out, and an idea may be 
 inferred of the state of Lydia’s health, from the 
 fact, that they congratulated themselves on being 
 so happy as to reach the church after a painful 
 struggle of an hour and a half, • “Now,” says 
 Lydia, “ I must be where I can see Mr. Rich- 
 mond.” In this, too, they succeeded, and the 
 sister expected that when the service was con- 
 cluded, she would contentedly return home ; but 
 to her great surprize, the poor girl’s agitation 
 increased, and she exclaimed, “ I must speak to 
 him ! ” 
 
 Her sister’s astonishment at this desire was 
 naturally very great. Lydia, who was then under 
 ten years of age, was naturally timid and bashful, 
 She was now in a weak and feeble state of body, 
 inducing great nervousness; and it may be judged 
 from these circumstances, what must have been 
 the ardent feelings of her soul, which could break 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 383 
 
 through all these obstructions, and force her 
 to seek a conversation w^ith one so far removed 
 from her, in age, circumstances, and education, as 
 Mr. Richmond. ‘‘ My dear Lydia,” said the 
 sister, ‘‘ I cannot go to speak to him ; and wlmt 
 would you say, if you could get to see him.” 
 
 Oh ! I want so to talk to him ; and you must 
 go and speak to him, and tell him so ; I am sure 
 he would not be displeased ; I know he would 
 not ! ” 
 
 Her earnest beseeching quite distressed her 
 sister ; who not daring to go into the vestry to 
 Mr. R. — followed him, with Lydia, along the 
 street, watching for an opportunity of addressing 
 him. When his pace quickened, Lydia had to 
 be carried, lest he should get out of sight. He 
 stopped to speak with some one, and on his parting 
 from the person, Lydia begged her sister to go 
 and speak to him. ‘‘ My dear,” she replied, “ what 
 can I say to him, you must speak to him your- 
 self.” Oh ! tell him,” said Lydia, ‘‘ I want to 
 talk to him about what he said to little Jane ! ” 
 Mr. R. reached his friend’s door, and entered the 
 house. Her grief increased, and she exclaimed, 
 
 Oh ! I shall never see him again, — oh ! what 
 shall I do ! ” She stood opposite the house, weep- 
 ing, and lamenting the loss of the opportunity, 
 and was with difficulty persuaded to leave the spot. 
 
384 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Her sister, on returning home, acquainted her 
 father with her earnest desire, and her grief. He 
 hesitated what to do, but at last, through the 
 
 intervention of a kind friend, Mr. W , Mr. 
 
 Richmond was made acquainted with the circum- 
 stance, and called upon the little girl. 
 
 Here we have to regret a deficiency in the 
 history, which no pen but that of Mr. Richmond 
 himself could have supplied. The conversation 
 must have been deeply interesting ; but the parties 
 engaged in it have now both left this lower 
 world, and we may suppose, have enjoyed many 
 happy and holy hours of converse in the abodes 
 of bliss. A letter, however, remains to us, which 
 was addressed to Lydia, as its own language 
 shews, on the following day. It is as follows : 
 
 Durham, Nov. 1, 1817. 
 
 “ My very dear child. 
 
 As God in his tender mercy permitted me to 
 witness for a little while, yesterday morning, how 
 much your heart has been interested in the story 
 of ray ever dear child in the faith. Little Jane, 
 the Young Cottager, I wish to tell you once more 
 how sincerely I desire that it may please our 
 gracious Saviour to make you like unto her. 
 If my little book has in any way been the means 
 of stirring up in your young mind a real desire 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 385 
 
 to be found in the way everlasting, surely I may 
 be permitted to call you, in that respect, one 
 of my little ones, and to feel for you something 
 of a father’s love and affection. Had I known 
 your wish to have seen me sooner, I would have 
 gladly come, and talked to you more about 
 Little Jane, and about the things that belong to 
 your everlasting peace ; — as it is, I feel my heart 
 strongly inclined to give you these few lines, as 
 a proof of my good-will and true regard for your 
 soul’s welfare. 
 
 “ Our acquaintance, my dear little girl, has 
 been short, but perhaps both you and I feel, as 
 if we were indeed friends in the Lord already. 
 May my prayers for your salvation, your support 
 in trials, and your patience in suffering, be 
 answered for the sake of Him who died upon the 
 cross to save sinners. — What a Saviour is He ! 
 Oh ! my child, seek him, love him, bless his holy 
 name ! Think of Him when you are in bodily 
 pain, and remember how much greater were his 
 pains. Think of him when you want instruction, 
 and may he be your wisdom. Think of him 
 when you reflect on your sins, and may he prove 
 your righteousness. Are you afraid to come to 
 Him? What? afraid of Him, who said, ‘"Suffer 
 the little children to come unto me.” No, my 
 dear girl, fear not, he is willing that you should 
 
38G 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 come, for he is the way, the truth, and the life. 
 He is the way to heaven — there is none other ; 
 Oh ! may you walk in that way, and find rest to 
 your soul therein. Little Jane and 1 used to talk 
 about heaven and hell, and Christ, and sin, and 
 mercy, and pardoning love, till our hearts burned 
 within us ; — you have read a little of our conversa- 
 tions, in the Annals of. the Poor ; but that is only 
 a small part of what we said to one another. I 
 often think of those days with great thankfulness, 
 and it makes me very glad to see that she, though 
 dead, yet speaketh to the living by her simple 
 story. Behold, how good God is ! she died 
 before you were born, yet you are become ac- 
 quainted with her, and can see how the Lord 
 blessed her in life and in death. Her faith, and 
 love, and humility, are a pattern for you, and 
 through God’s loving kindness, I hope you will 
 be like her in these things. 
 
 ‘'You probably may be too young or too 
 unwell to write, or I would ask you to write to 
 me, and tell me something about your thoughts 
 and feelings, and what first made you feel a 
 desire to be saved, and what you have felt when 
 you read the story of the Young Cottager. I 
 could wish to know more of your heart, and what 
 you think about sin, and pardon, and Jesus 
 Christ. But this perhaps cannot be, unless some 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 387 
 
 one should write for you ; but then every word 
 and thought must be your own. The Lord save 
 you, my child, and give you the gospel blessing, 
 and may you trust in Christ with all your heart. 
 Remember Little Jane, and in your prayers 
 remember likewise. 
 
 Your affectionate friend in the Lord, 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
 “ Give my Christian regards to your sisters, 
 pray with them, and may you all meet in heaven 
 at the last, as sinners freely saved by the blood 
 of Jesus Christ. — Farewell, my dear child.” 
 
 The conversation and correspondence of Mr. 
 Richmond was made the effectual means of con- 
 veying true peace to her soul. She was shortly 
 after enabled to speak of her heart, as being 
 ‘‘filled with the love of God;” and to contem- 
 plate her probable dissolution with joy and hope. 
 The following letters were addressed by Mr. R. 
 to Lydia and her sister in the course of the en- 
 suing year. It will appear from these letters, 
 that both the sisters were indebted, under God, 
 to Mr. R. for their first impressions of religion, 
 and for their subsequent confirmation in the ways 
 of holiness and peace. 
 
 “ And now once more, my dear little Lydia, 
 2 c 2 
 
388 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 (for such I apprehend is your name,) let me again 
 press you to my bosom and talk of Jesus. What 
 a sweet name to the believer’s ear ! It contains 
 all that a poor weak young sinner, like you, can 
 want. “ His name shall be called Jesus, for he 
 shall save his people from their sins.” Comforting 
 thought ! may it comfort you, my child, and 
 render pain, sickness, trial, welcome. Lay your 
 heart and all its troubles upon that blessed rock ; 
 cast your burden upon him, and he will (indeed 
 he will !) sustain you. Disease may weaken and 
 destroy your suffering body, but it cannot injure 
 your soul. Love Him, who loves you ; never be 
 afraid to ask him for patience and resignation, and 
 he will show his tender mercy to you. Pray, 
 as well as you can, and always remember that he 
 is praying to His Father for you ; it is this which 
 encourages us to go to him. Your life may pro- 
 bably be a short one, but then the sooner shall 
 you be with Christ. Think of Little Jane, and 
 how God supported her ; and do not doubt but he 
 will freely grant you the same help. His ear is 
 not heavy, that he cannot hear, nor his arm short- 
 ened, that he cannot save. Let me hear from 
 you, if you can so far oblige me, and trust in 
 me as a true friend. Farewell, dear little child, 
 and pray for me, as I do and will for you. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 389 
 
 Faithfully and affectionately yours in Christ 
 Jesus. 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
 Jan. 25 — I received yours last night. 
 
 Newcastle, Tuesday, \2 at night, 
 ‘‘My dear children, 
 
 “ I cannot do more than write two or three lines 
 now. But I wish to give you my blessing before 
 I leave the town, and to ask you to write to me. 
 A letter will find me during the next ten days at 
 the Rev. Dr. Buchanan’s, Canongate, Edinburgh. 
 I wished to have spoken to you again after the 
 service of the chapel, but could not see you. 
 Grace, peace, mercy, and love, be with you, from 
 God our Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ. So 
 prays 
 
 Your truly affectionate friend, 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
 “ I hope the Lord was with us to-night at 
 public worship. I felt it was good to be there.” 
 
 Glasgow, June 25, 1818. 
 “My very dear young Friend, 
 
 “ Nothing can be more fallacious than the mere 
 testimony of language, most especially in so in- 
 fantine a case, to ascertain the genuineness 
 of conversion to God. I am frequently grieved in 
 
390 
 
 APPFilNDIX. 
 
 observing the undue importance which many good 
 but mistaken people attach to this evidence. I 
 am sorry that any such source of uneasiness has 
 arisen in regard to my dear child Lydia. But it 
 may eventually be well ; it may teach you to look 
 more for solid and operative testimonies of true 
 faith than mere readiness of conversation. I fully 
 concur with you, that the marks of a divine change 
 are far more satisfactorily proved by such obser- 
 vations as you are able to make, than can possibly 
 arise from the mere expressions of the lips. God 
 in his great mercy carry on in her dear soul a 
 'Work so evidently begun, and complete it to his 
 own glory in Christ Jesus. I have met with many 
 instances of the conversion of souls in Scotland, 
 owing to the blessing of God on my feeble per- 
 formances. Elizabeth, William, and Jane, have 
 produced several fruits to God here. To him be 
 all the glory. I am constrained to conclude from 
 the hurry of travelling. Perhaps I may see you 
 next month ; it is uncertain. But nothing is more 
 certain than that prayers for you, your sisters, and 
 family, are ardently offered up to heaven by 
 Your true friend in Christ, 
 
 Legh Richmond. 
 
 “ To Miss E 
 
 G 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 391 
 
 Queens Head Hotel, Pilgrim Stixet, 
 Tuesday Morning, 9 d clock, 
 ‘‘My respected young Friend, 
 
 “ I am just arrived here from Morpeth, and as 
 my time will soon be much hurried and broken in 
 upon, I write to ask you in the first place whether 
 it would be quite convenient to you to come to me 
 here, while I am breakfasting, to save time, that I 
 may have the pleasure of some Christian conver- 
 sation with you on the subject of your last letter 
 to me. I shall also visit* my little girl while I am at 
 Newcastle, but I thought the present opportunity 
 might be previously desirable. Believe me. 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 Legh Richmond. 
 
 - Miss E G .” 
 
 Turvey, Jan, 24, 1818. 
 
 “My respected young Friend, 
 
 “You have taken no liberty beyond that which 
 every principle of religious confidence and esteem 
 must fully justify. I have been long hoping to 
 receive a few lines ’ written by or in the name of 
 your dear little sister ; and now, through the good- 
 ness of God, another of the family claims me as a 
 spiritual friend, and even father. May grace, 
 peace, and mercy rest on each and all of you. I 
 
392 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 will say something first as it concerns yourself. 
 At your period of life the grace of God is indeed 
 most valuable. Youth is a season of peculiar 
 temptation, and needs the strong fortifications of 
 divine principle in the soul to protect it from 
 falling a prey to a thousand snares and devices 
 from without, and from as many foul corruptions 
 striving for mastery from within. “May you be 
 preserved, through faith, by the power of God, 
 unto salvation.” Be much in prayer, and like a 
 wrestling Jacob, you shall prevail. By faith in that 
 Saviour who is the wisdoni, righteousness, sancti- 
 fication, and redemption of his people you shall 
 triumph over sin, death, and hell. “ Faithful is he 
 that hath promised, who also will do it. ” Oh I 
 “ cast your care on him, for he careth for you.” If 
 the Lord was pleased to make my visit to Newcastle 
 in any degree a comfort or source of instruction to 
 your soul, I ought to thank him for so great a mercy 
 to us both. What am I but your fellow-sinner ? and 
 if God make use of one poor sinner to minister 
 help to another poor sinner, to whom, but to him- 
 self, great, wise, and merciful, can the praise be 
 due ? I shall ever remember my visit to New- 
 castle with much pleasure, and in particular I 
 shall never forget the short interview which I was 
 permitted to enjoy in your house. Your little 
 sister, my little Jane, and the dear Redeemer of 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 393 
 
 them both, seemed on that morning to be all 
 brought to my affections with singular emotions, 
 and now I feel that there was another link in the 
 chain of Christian affection which mercy bound 
 around my heart. 1 thank for enabling me to 
 say so. I heard of your sister some time since 
 
 from my dear and respected friend, Mr. W , 
 
 and I shall be truly glad if she is still able and 
 willing to write to me herself. Pray do not let 
 her imagine that she need be afraid of writing 
 to me. I love my little lamb too dearly in the 
 Lord not to prize whatever she can and will say 
 to me. It would give me much satisfaction if I 
 were permitted to receive some regular account 
 of the dealings of God both with her, and with 
 you, from the first beginning of serious affections 
 in both your souls. Perhaps you will favour me 
 with them at your leisure. This will confirm our 
 Christian friendship, and whensoever it shall 
 please the Lord to take the dear child to himself, 
 will be a memorial which I shall greatly prize. 
 You may probably be spared to serve God in your 
 generation, when she shall have joined Cherubim 
 and Seraphim amongst choirs of angels and ran- 
 somed spirits, in heaven. Be it so — and may you 
 so taste that the Lord has been gracious to you, 
 that your temper, example, conversation, and 
 whole life may testify that you love him for all his 
 
394 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 goodness to your soul. If, my young friend, you 
 have really felt the burden of sin, and have seen 
 the awful consequences of remaining in a grace- 
 less state, what views will you have of the 
 Saviour’s character and office ! what exalted ideas 
 of his love to sinners. In Him a perfect righ- 
 teousness is wrought out for and applied to the 
 believer ; his riches will supply your poverty : his 
 wisdom, your ignorance ; his strength, your weak- 
 ness. Live upon his fulness by faith, and see in 
 him a provision abundantly made for every diffi- 
 culty and every danger. Commit yourself, soul, 
 body, and spirit to him. He is mighty to save, 
 and will save to the uttermost. 
 
 “ And now I return to you, my friend and cor- 
 respondent : you will pardon my digression to 
 your little sister ; God bless her. I commend 
 you to the Lord and his grace. Go forward 
 in that path that leads to glory. Fear not 
 the lions in the way ; stronger is he that is with 
 us, than they that are against us. Present my 
 Christian regards to your father and sisters ; re- 
 member how much I need your prayers, and 
 believe me, &c. &c. 
 
 Turvey, Aug. 6, 1818. 
 
 “ My dear little child, 
 
 “ 1 thank God for kindly permitting me to 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 395 
 
 visit you and your family, when I lately travelled 
 in the North. I love you for Jesus Christ’s sake, 
 and wish to do you good. But this must entirely 
 depend on God’s blessing. It is not my word 
 but His that must change your heart. My 
 visits are only the visits of a poor fellow creature, 
 who needs the grace of the Redeemer as much as 
 yourself ; but when Christ visits you, then there 
 is true light and peace. Then you may cry out 
 with young David, ‘‘ Lord, what is man, that 
 thou art mindful of him, and the son of man, that 
 thou visitest him?” My child, pray to him — 
 read his word daily, and never be contented 
 without seeking to understand every word and 
 every sentence. Read it for faith, that you may 
 trust your soul and body entirely upon him. 
 Read it for the government of your temper,* that 
 you may shew forth the inward light which God 
 gives you, by patience, kindness, gentleness, 
 obedience to your father and sisters, and every 
 becoming disposition of mind. You ought to 
 consider that your life has been spared beyond 
 our expectation, and that every hour of it is a 
 fresh call for love, honour, wonder, and praise, 
 to God. Read the word of God, that you may 
 learn the value of time. Every hour should have 
 its due occupation. Read the word, that you 
 may know how to feel towards your dear friends. 
 
396 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 For those who love and fear God, how thankful 
 ought you to be ! They watch over your soul, 
 and are daily praying for you. For those who do 
 not love and fear God, how ought you to pray ! 
 Who can tell but that your prayers may be the 
 means of bringing down blessings upon them. 
 Most especially let your temper and behaviour 
 towards them show that you yourself fear God, 
 and love Jesus Christ. Example and prayer may 
 go together in all God’s children. I hope he 
 will not leave one of your brothers and sisters, 
 without manifesting a blessing to their soul. 
 
 ‘‘ Will you write to me again, Lydia ? or, if your 
 dear sister is kind enough to write for you, let 
 every thought and every word be all your own. 
 I shall now call upon your young friend Ann 
 
 W ,’ whom I also love tenderly in the Lord, to 
 
 fulfil her promise to me, and I will say a few words 
 to her on the other side. Give my Christian love 
 to your Father, brothers, and sisters ; and may 
 they, you, and 1 meet at last in that happy place 
 where Christ is in glory. Pray for yourself, and for 
 Your true friend in the love of God, 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
 “ My own little children send their kind 
 regards to you, and I beg you will remember them 
 also when you pray.” 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 397 
 
 Monday Evejiing, November 1818 . 
 
 Dear young Friend. 
 
 I have been thinking how, amongst my nume- 
 rous engagements, I can best see you and your 
 sister, and as I wish also to call on Mary 
 
 H , I wish you would both come to her 
 
 house on Tuesday morning, at a quarter before 
 ten o’clock, and I will meet you there on my 
 way to the chapel. To-morrow I shall be en- 
 gaged at North Shields, till it will be too late to 
 see you before the Bible Meeting. On Tuesday 
 I have a service at the chapel at eleven, then a 
 meeting of some young people about Church 
 Missionary business, and a public meeting in 
 the evening. On Wednesday morning at five 
 o’clock, I go to Lancaster : you will see by this 
 how much my time is occupied. I hope Lydia 
 is well enough to came out. I wish you and 
 your family every blessing in Christ. 
 
 “ Please to give me a line. I was very much 
 obliged by your last communication. May God 
 bless you and your’s. 
 
 I am, 
 
 Your’s very faithfully, 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
 Miss E. G 
 
398 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Lydia, to use the words of her sister, con- 
 tinued for about three years after this, to walk 
 in the light of her Redeemers countenance, 
 blessing and praising God continually.” After 
 this period, however, the enemy was permitted, 
 for a time, to gain a partial advantage over her. 
 The sister already spoken of, who could have aided 
 and protected her steps in the narrow road, was 
 removed from her by marriage. She went to 
 reside with another near relative, who educated 
 young ladies in her own house. This new 
 association with a variety of gay and worldly 
 people, soon produced its natural effect upon 
 Lydia’s youthful and ductile mind. Her outward 
 attention to religious duties continued unrelaxed, 
 and her chief enjoyment was still in the worship 
 and service of God, but she lost that simple and 
 child-like confidence which she had heretofore 
 enjoyed ; she was secretly unhappy because in 
 heart she had backslidden. 
 
 But soon the Lord sent her a warning, by an 
 increase of her disorder, which brought her a peni- 
 tent to the feet of Jesus, where she afterwards 
 recovered her peace of mind. At this period, Mr. 
 Richmond, who had heard something of her state, 
 addressed to her the following letter. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 399 . 
 
 Glasgow, June 28 , 1822 . 
 
 My dear young friend, 
 
 '' A report has reached me that you are in a 
 very declining state of health, and that it may 
 soon be the will of the Lord to take you hence. 
 I am desirous of knowing what the state of your 
 mind is, and how far the young beginnings of 
 religion which I witnessed in your early infancy, 
 liave at length ripened into a due preparation 
 of heart to meet your God in eternity. Has 
 the blessing of the Saviour accompanied the means 
 of grace to your soul ? Can you rest your all 
 upon him who died to save sinners? Can you, 
 with Little Jane, the Young Cottager, commit 
 yourself to God as a faithful Creator, and sure 
 Redeemer ? Have the pains of your body been 
 sanctified to the instruction and consolation of 
 your soul ? Do you feel yourself to be a lost, 
 undone, and helpless sinner? Can you flee to 
 the strong One for help, and see wisdom, 
 righteousness, sanctification, and redemption in 
 Christ ? Have you really sought the pardon 
 of your manifold offences against God ? If you 
 cannot write me these things yourself, ask your 
 sister Elizabeth to do it for you. I have often 
 thought of you with mingled hopes and fears. 
 May God answer my prayers for your sake. 
 
400 
 
 appendix. 
 
 Give my Christian regards to your father and 
 sisters, and believe me, 
 
 Your sincere friend in the Lord, 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
 Of her own letters to Mr. Richmond, no traces 
 remain. A short note to a young friend, written 
 about this period, is the only specimen we have 
 of her train of thought and experience, but it will 
 be seen from it that she recognizes the afflicting 
 hand of God, as having a second time brought 
 her back to his fold. 
 
 My dear Alice, 
 
 “ I received yours, for which I return my most 
 grateful thanks. My dear friend, I sympathize 
 with you in the death of poor little Rebecca. 
 I heard of it soon after ; I think your brother told 
 me. You truly say there is no passing through 
 this world without trouble ; when we look around 
 we see nothing but confusion, but in the breast 
 of the Christian there is solid happiness. You 
 know this very well ; but I hope, my love, 
 you feel it too. Oh that we could cast our care 
 upon Him that careth for us. See how He invites 
 us to draw near and taste that He is gracious. 
 
 I have much cause to be thankful for my afflic- 
 tions, for He has brought me a second time into 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 401 
 
 His fold. O let Us not waste our youth in doing 
 nothing for our Saviour. Dear friend, if you have 
 felt any of these things, as I trust you have’ 
 do write and tell me of the Lord’s dealings with 
 your soul ; it would so delight my heart to have 
 a friend like you to go hand in hand to that 
 heavenly country. Remember, my friend, this is 
 not our home ; we have a house not made with 
 hands, eternal in the heavens, and we have a 
 crown of glory that fadeth not away. What 
 encouragement for young people ! He has said, 
 ‘‘ They that seek me early shall find me;” then 
 let us take up our cross daily and follow Him 
 who hath bought us with His own blood ; but 
 I need not say more at present, as I know you 
 are well acquainted with the subject. So adieu, 
 my dear, and believe me, 
 
 your’s affectionately, 
 
 Lydia G — — .” 
 
 Her disorder began soon after this to make 
 such progress as gave warning of her approaching 
 dissolution. In the near view of eternity, she 
 once expressed to a friend her apprehension, that 
 the work in her soul had not been genuine, — that 
 her religion had been too much that of a Pharisee. 
 Her friend then put into her hand, the Life of 
 Miss S — , whose experience greatly resembled 
 
 2 D 
 
402 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 her own, and appeared so exactly suited to the 
 exigency of her own case, that she derived much 
 comfort from it, and shortly attained such a degree 
 of composure in the near prospect of death, as 
 to be able to say, “ I am now perfectly 
 happy, and would not exchange situations with 
 any one.” To another friend she said, ‘‘ I have 
 had a sore conflict, but all is peace now!” 
 
 She became so ill as usually to be unable to 
 enter into conversation. At intervals, however-, 
 she obtained a little relief. About three days 
 before her death, a friend called, whom she re- 
 quested to pray with her, and then to repeat one 
 of her- favourite hymns, 
 
 “ How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,’^ &c. 
 
 She appeared to dwell with delight upon every 
 word, and repeated with great animation the 
 last couplet, 
 
 “ That soul, though all hell should endeavour to shake. 
 
 I’ll never, no never, no never forsake ! ” 
 
 On parting from this friend, whom she was to 
 see no more in this life, she sent her remem- 
 brances to a little Christian society to which they 
 both belonged, saying, ‘‘ Sarah, give my love to 
 my young Christian friends, and say to them that 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 403 
 
 I hope to be the first to hail them when they 
 land on that happy shore, to which I am now 
 hastening.” 
 
 She grew rapidly weaker, but still retained 
 her* senses, and her peaceful serenity of mind. 
 On Sunday evening, as one of her brothers was 
 weeping over her, and not expecting her to sur- 
 vive the night, she said, ‘‘ I shall see you again 
 in the body.” Soon after, holding the hand of each 
 brother in her own, she said, Oh ! that 1 could 
 tell my mother, when we meet, that you are all 
 coming quickly after me.” She was asked if she 
 had any message for another brother, then in 
 London. She answered, Tell him, that though 
 he may be in perfect health at present, yet 
 
 Short is our longest day of life, 
 
 And soon the prospect ends ; 
 
 Yet, on that day’s uncertain strife, 
 
 Eternity depends ! ” 
 
 About an hour before her death, a pious lady 
 called to see her, and prayed with her. She 
 was unable to converse, but her friend said, ‘‘ My 
 love, I do not wish you to speak ; but if you are 
 able, tell me, by holding up your hand, whether 
 you are quite happy.” Immediately, as with a 
 last effort, she raised her half-dead arm as high 
 as she could. Shortly after, the flickering flame 
 
 2 D 2 
 
404 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 of life rose again, and having tasted nothing 
 for four and twenty hours, she asked for some- 
 thing to drink. ' Her sister brought it to her, 
 when she put her arms round her neck, and said. 
 
 Now raise me up.” The last struggle of nature 
 prompted this desire, but on . being moved, her 
 agony was extreme, and she cried out, “ Oh ! 
 pray that I may be suffered to go now.” Folding 
 her hands in the attitude of prayer, she con- 
 tinued for about three minutes, and then said, 
 “ I want breath ! — Hold me still ! — I am going — 
 now ! ” and sunk into her sister’s arms, a corpse. 
 
 She had desired a little silver purse, being the 
 most valuable thing of the kind she possessed, to 
 be sent after her death to Mr. Richmond. She 
 said, “he has been my best friend on earth, — 
 I wish him to keep it in remembrance of me.” 
 
 The following letters appear to have been 
 written by Mr. Richmond to the married sister 
 of Lydia, on his receiving the intelligence of her 
 death. 
 
 Turvey, Feb. 26, 1825. 
 
 “ Dear Christian Friend, 
 
 ‘‘ I am much obliged by your affecting intelli- 
 gence. I am weeping and rejoicing over the grave 
 of a dear and glorified son. My heart is sensibly 
 affected by every similar case, and be assured, I 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 405 
 
 have not forgotten Lydia. I received the dear 
 child’s letter long since, and thought I had answered 
 it. Oblige me with a full and detailed account of 
 all you remember respecting her, from the earliest 
 impression, previous to my first sight of her. 
 Describe her feelings, progress, backslidings, reco- 
 very, and whatever you think most interesting 
 and valuable relating to her. Accompany it with 
 any remarks of your own, and be assured that I 
 shall receive them with friendly gratitude. What 
 a change ! from earth to heaven ; from sorrow to 
 joy : from mortality to immortality I May you 
 and I experience it in God’s own time. Give 
 my Christian regards to your father, sisters, and 
 family, and to your husband. Do not fear to 
 write at full length about your sister Lydia, and 
 believe me. 
 
 Faithfully your’s, 
 
 Legh Richmond.” 
 
 September 28, 1825. 
 
 Dear Christian Friend, 
 
 “ I have received your parcel just as I am 
 setting out cn a journey, and can only at present 
 give a hasty reply to your kind communication, 
 which gives me much satisfaction. I receive these 
 tokens of esteem, both from yourself and your 
 departed sister, with much gratitude. I have 
 
40G 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 never ceased to think of her with Christian 
 regard, for although during a season she seemed 
 to fall back from the earlier marks of converting 
 grace, yet the Lord again so abundantly owned 
 his work, that we can now only say, “ How 
 excellent is his name in all the earth.” She died 
 but a short time after my own dear son, whose 
 memory is most dear to me, — dear beyond my 
 powers of expression. I shall preserve her 
 bequest as a tender memorial of her spiritual 
 regard. I thank you for your explanation rela- 
 tive to the letter written some years since. It is 
 quite satisfactory : you did perfectly right in not 
 allowing it to be inserted in any printed publica- 
 tion. I should by no means consent to that. 
 The cause of Christ prospers much in this place, 
 and I have reason to be very thankful. I am 
 under apprehension relative to the reported 
 dangerous illness of my eldest son in India. 
 The rest of my family are pretty well. I hope 
 
 Mr. W , whom I ever loved affectionately 
 
 in the Lord, is better than he was some time ago. 
 
 Your friend in the Lord, 
 
 L. Richmond.” 
 
 Mrs. B . 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 407 
 
 This sister, Mrs. B , who was also a spiritual 
 
 child of Mr. Richmond, died in the faith, on the 
 21st of April, 1826, and, as her father remarks, 
 would be among the foremost to hail his arrival 
 on the happy shore.” Conjecture would be use- 
 less and vain, as to the numbers who, similarly 
 blessed through the means of his writings, will 
 throng to form his ‘‘ crown of rejoicing ” in the 
 great day; but nothing can be more certain 
 than this, that he will be found among those 
 who have ‘‘turned many to righteousness,” and 
 who will “shine as the stars for ever and ever;” 
 
 THE END. 
 
PRINTED BY L. B. SEELEY AND SONS, 
 THAMES DITTON, SURREY. 
 
UNIVERSfTY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112112353849