% # "¥-■■ f ^ •^ Zry-^by IS.?r{a t c^cyL^ Oyi a. ^ cy/t C^hy2. COU^ ^_ A MEMORIAL MRS. MARGARET BRECKINRIDGE. IN TWO PARTS. Part I. Memoir, and Funeral Sermon. Part II. Letters to her surviving Children, PHILADELPHIA: WILLIAM S. MARTIEN 1839. Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by WILLIAM S. MARTIEN, in the office of the Clerk of the District Court, for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. ♦ » #• 9 CONTENTS. PART I. Page. Introduction, . . . .13 Chapter I. Life of Mrs. Breckinridge, ^ . . 17 Chapter II. Additional Illustrations of the Life and Charac- ter of Mrs. Breckinridge, . . 35 Her Religious Character, ... 42 % Her dedication to the work of Foreign Missions, 46 Her Sacrifices for the Church of God, . 47 Her Last Sickness and Death, . . 54 Chapter III. Closing Reflections, . . . 61 SUBMISSION: A Sermon — by the Rev. A. Alexander, D. D. 69 1 1 ' * CONTENTS PART II. LETTERS OF A GRANDFATHER. Letter I. Page. Introductory, .... 5 Letter II. Human Nature, .... 10 Letter III. The Way of Salvation, ... 17 Letter IV. The Bible, .... 29 Letter V. Prayer, 37 , Letter VI. Cultivation of the Mind, ... 45 Letter VII. Cultivation of the Heart and the Moral Habits, 67 Letter VIII. Manners, . . . . .87 A MEMOIR MRS. MARGARET BRECKINRIDGE. ^ "Jesus wept." PART I. INTRODUCTION More than a year has now passed since Mrs. Margaret Breckinridge, the belov- ed subject of the following brief notices, was taken from us into the saints' everlast- ing rest. By that event, the little family of which she was the joy and crown, was dis- solved. The surviving parent felt that God had committed to him the interesting but mournful duty of preserving the memory of so inestimable a friend. But it is long after such an event, before the mind is sufficiently tranquil to utter our thoughts and feelings without excess. The peaceable fruits of so dreadful a chastisement succeed, alas! but slowly in our intractable hearts, to the dis- ^ traction of grief, and the desolation of the grave. 2 14 INTRODUCTION. It was in the midst of the deepest of his sorrow, also, that the writer was hastened (by a very kind Providence, as he now sees it to have been) into the active duties of an oiRce which left no rest for body or mind during almost an entire year. So that if his feelings had allowed the attempt at pre- paring a Memoir, his duty to the Church of God forbade it. In these trying and peculiar circumstan- ces, he was permitted to call in the aid of those honoured and venerable Friends, from whose hands, in a happier day, he had re- ceived the lovely wife of his youth. They of all others knew her best, especially from her birth to her marriage. They had done most, under God, to fit her for life's duties, and its close; and to make her "worthy to be had in everlasting remembrance.'' And none were judged to be so well qualified to do justice to her memory. To the one we are indebted for the following interesting Sketch, making the first chapter. To the INTRODUCTION. \f^ Other for the valuable Letters to her surviv- ing children, forming the second part of this memorial. While all must admire the delicacy and candour with which this sketch is drawn, it is evident to those who knew the deceased, that much remains to be said which ought not to be omitted — especially in regard to that portion of her life, embracing more than fifteen years, which passed between the time of leaving the parental roof, and her lamented death. In attempting to sup- ply this omission, the writer felt the incon- venience — even awkwardness of returning upon a narrative which seemed to have been brought to an appropriate close. But this was thought preferable to leaving the memoir incomplete; or to breaking the thread of the narrative given in the first chapter. And moreover it was felt that the design of the work which called for the additional chapters, dispensed with form in the man- \ kit. ' 25 INTRODUCTION. ner of furnishing them. It is intended to preserve the memory of the beloved dead for her bereaved children, and her nume- rous kindred and friends, rather than to unveil her retiring character to the public eye. The work being designed, not so much for general circulation as for family use, is rather printed^ than published; and all its imperfections will readily be over- looked by those who will come to these pages, as Mary went to the tomb of Laza- rus — " to weep there. ^' MEMOIR. CHAPTER I. A NARRATIVE of the life of our departed friends, bears some resemblance to the representation, on canvass, of their persons and features; it serves to restore and collect our scattered thoughts, and revive our affections; and prevents the hand of time from obliterating entirely, their peculiar men- tal and moral lineaments. It was in consequence of the necessity of this help to our natural infirmities, that our Lord gave to his people the bread and wine, as a symbol of his body and blood, and said, " Do this in remem- brance of me." He knew too well our careless, wandering hearts, to trust the recollections, even of his great and lovely character, to our unfaithful keeping, and established, as a help to his word, the ordinance which was to continue unto the end of the world, " as a memorial of him." And we trust that his people are permitted to endeavour to perpetuate the remembrance of each other by means, which, however they may come greatly 2* IS MEMOIR OF short of the significant emblem ordained by him- self, will assist in enabling them " to love one another as he also loved them." In view of this encouragement, given us in the Scriptures of inspiration, we would endeavour to bring together, and exhibit, in the history of the short life of Mrs. Margaret Breckinridge, some of those graces of a Christian character, which lead us to hope that the finger of the Lord had engraven his name on her heart, and that his grace was car- rying on the work, notwithstanding much infirmity of flesh and spirit, until the body of sin and death within her was rolled away, and a simple, undivi- ded hold taken on the Rock of ages. She was born September 29th, 1802, in New York, and educated for several years under the immediate instruction of the sanctuary, in a com- paratively pure state of the Church, when the name and influence of a few such venerable and holy men as the Rev. Dr. John Rodgers, had thrown a restraint on the vices of the world around them, as well as on the constantly recurring dis- orders of the Church, so that the very vagrants of the street felt their presence.* Every pastor of a * The appearance of these servants of God, in any part of the city, seemed to make "iniquity hide its head," and was oflen the means of dispersing an idle, youthful group, in which profanity and disorder were beginning their destructive career. Through their influ- ence, in a great measure, the Sabbath was, at least MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. JQ flock of Jesus Christ seemed to feel it his privi- lege, as well as his duty, to feed the lambs of his flock himself, and did not commit them to the ever-varying, heterogeneous instruction of others. The Scriptures, and the Catechism, it was his own business to inculcate; and the same afternoon in each week, had been for many years, in several of the churches of the city, of various denominations, the season for this instruction. By these and other means, the Bible had taken a systematic form in Margaret's mind, very early ; and whenever she met, even in childhood, with a scriptural scene or subject, she generally knew where to place it, and was particularly animated by it. And this peculiar skill, and taste, continued and increased until childhood passed away, and the pride and enjoyment of life opened a new scene before her. For a time it seemed as if every vestige of the sensibiUty arising from religious instruction would be swept away. She had friends who wished to see her enjoying the innocent pleasures of youth; especially as in person and mind there was a pro- mise of peculiar adaptation to them. And there was a will of her own very clearly developing, which wanted more restraint than parents are externally, a holy day, on which the public ways exhibit- ed no crowd or bustle, but what was of necessity occa- sioned by a church-going people. 20 MEMOIR OF generally willing to exercise. Many interpositions, however, in providence occurred, which, though sad in the view of her family, proved a real deliv- erance to her — frequently arresting her first deci- sive step in folly. At the age of eleven she was removed with her family to Princeton, in consequence of a call which her father received, to a Professorship in the Theological Seminary in that place. Being thus separated from many snares incident to a city life, she began anew, as it were, to form habits and connexions, which, although in some res- pects, more dangerous and ensnaring than those which she had left, had not " grown with her growth, and strengthened with her strength;" and were, on that account, more ready to yield, when the follies of youth passed away, and the solem- nities of this world, in view of another, opened before her. The want of a good school in Princeton, indu- ced her parents to send her, at the age of about fourteen years, to Philadelphia, for the purpose of obtaining for her some finish to the education which she had received at home. She remained there nearly a year, residing with an aunt, and attending a daily and well conducted school. In- deed it was her privilege, as well as the privilege of many others, to receive instruction from a teacher, who not only was competent to every branch of polite learnmg which adorns the mind of a female, MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 21 but desirous of having all which he taught so sanc- tified as to reach the heart, and be made the means- of communicating spiritual and saving, as well as intellectual instruction.* The immediate efli'ect of this experiment was injurious to Margaret's disposition and deport- ment. She returned to her parents with more love for the world, and a better opinion of herself; and of consequence was less docile. It was evi- dent that the atmosphere of a city was not the element in which her heart would receive the best influence. In a revival which took place in Princeton, when she was about eighteen years of age, an interest was excited in some of her pious fe- male friends for her conversion. They concluded to make her the subject of special prayer. Of this she was entirely ignorant, until the evidence appeared in herself of the verity of the promise, as to the result of "fervent, eflfectual prayer." A sermon of the celebrated President Edwards, read * Many will probably have reason for everlasting re- joicing in the kind arrangement which placed them under Mr. Jaudon's instruction. He was truly "a man of God," and the effects of his wise and holy instruction and discip^ line, we have no doubt are felt in the bosom of many fami- lies, and in the hearts of many individuals in Philadel- phia, to this day, who will, we trust, be prepared to meet him, where, having turned many to righteousness, "he shall shine as a star for ever and ever." 22 MEMOIROF in a small, social meeting, arrested her attention, and brought her to continued, deep, serious think- ing, which ended, as she thought, in a new view of everlasting things. With all the sanguine feel- ings of youth, she judged herself prepared to be united with the Church ; but owing to the unwil- lingness of her parents to risk the possibility of a premature profession of religion, this step was delayed. In connexion with this period of her life, it seems necessary to relate some circumstances which took place with regard to a much loved sis- ter of hers ; not many years younger than herself. They had been so closely educated together, as to make them one in many of their views and feel- ings. Elizabeth, in giving an account of the exercises of her own mind on the subject of religion, some time after they took place, said, that she experi- enced an irresistible feeling of contempt for the concern which Margaret manifested, and concluded that she was indulging a mere hypocritical affecta- tion ; in consequence of which she was beginning to make some observations to this effect, when, in a moment, a deep conviction fastened on her con- science, of the danger of resisting what might prove to be the influence of the Holy Spirit. This impression resulted in a real concern for herself, and in views equally solemn with those expressed by Margaret. MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 23 They both now made progress together in their inquiries and experience, and were a mutual help, rather than a hinderance to each other. Both soon thought that they had obtained an interest in " Him, whose blood cleanselh from all sin." It appeared, however, soon after this, as if our fears with regard to Margaret were but too well founded. " Because of manifold temptations," she seemed to be taking a new hold on the world ; but a state of things about the same time, began with Elizabeth, which disciplined and humbled her spirit; and she was soon enabled to realize all the insufficiency and uncertainty of this world, as a portion. Many doubts with regard to the genuineness of the change which Elizabeth trusted had taken place in her heart, increased by the weakness which rapidly declining health had induced, per- plexed and troubled her, and made her more and more unwilling to make a profession of religion. She had witnessed some of the extravagances of revivals, and felt the danger of being deceived, and of "having a name to live whilst she was dead." In January, 1823, Margaret was married to the Rev. John Breckinridge, and returned with him to Kentucky, his native State, in the spring of the same year. In consequence of a call which her husband received, to a church in Kentucky, (which he accepted,) they were soon after this settled in Lexington. Her departure from her early home 24 MEMOIR OF was her first real trial. For although, through the course of several months, she had taken a prospec- tive view of this arrangement, with much buoyancy of spirits, as the time approached, every circum- stance connected with a separation from all the associations of her childhood and youth, seemed to produce a new and deeper impression, and seven or eight hundred miles appeared at length, as almost an interminable space. The sadness which irresistibly overspread her countenance, convinced her friends that when, in view of Mr. Breckinridge's first destination, she had given her- self unreservedly to a foreign mission, she, like many others, little knew her own heart, and all the sacrifices which such a destination involved. And when it was seen expedient that this intention should be relinquished by him, for a plan more eligible in the view of his fathers in the ministry, a release from this more enduring trial, formed no small part of the considerations which assisted in making her submissively bow to one so much more lenient. And indeed, she had reason to say, that goodness and mercy had followed her at eve- ry step. For this very trial which sobered her countenance, made her heart better, and prepared the way for deeper self-examination, and probably more fervent prayer ; and the result was, that with a trembling confidence she united herself with her husband's church in Lexington, a few months after he took charge of it. From her letters, after this MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 25 event, we learned that her connexion with the church took place at the same time— it is thought on the same day — in which her sister Elizabeth, having been delivered from the many doubts which had clouded her mind, made a profession of religion in the church in Princeton. This co-incidence in providence, having occurred without any mutual intercourse or understanding on the subject, seemed so consistent with the plans of Him who " sees the end from the beginning," and who, from their first serious impressions, appeared to have united the lines of their experience until they ended in one gracious result, that it did much to confirm their friends in the hope, that a good " work was begun in them which should be carried on." They felt constrained to say. "It is the Lord's doings and wonderful in our eyes." The kind and affectionate family in Kentucky, of which she now made one, assisted much in alle- viating the pressure of sorrowful recollections, and in making the resolution which she had formed of "learning in whatsoever state she was, therewith to be content," more practical, and more enduring; and when Mr. Breckinridge was called to Balti- more in 1826, although she was pleased with the prospect of getting nearer to her early home, she felt that a new tie had been formed which could not be broken, even partially, without much pain. It was a source of much grateful recollection to her, that she was not permitted* to use any undue infiu- 3 * 26 MEMOIR OF ence to lead her husband away from his congre- gation in Lexington, to which she was indebted in so considerable a degree, for the pleasant circum- stances which surrounded her. Her health was remarkably firm, especially for one of her delicate appearance, for several years after her marriage, and during all the time that her husband had a settled charge. In Baltimore, to which he removed from Lexington, she seemed to realize with much gratitude, the particularly plea- sant circumstances in which her family was placed. Situated on the direct way between her husband's relatives, endeared to her by so many pleasant recollections, and the family of her youth, with both of which she could have frequent intercourse, and in the midst of a kind circle of friends, not limited by the bounds of Mr. Breckinridge's con- gregation, she was literally at home ; and when the summons came to call him to another sphere of labour in the Church, she was the last to be persuaded that it was his duty to obey it, and reluctantly yielded to the opinion of those whose judgment she honoured. From this time she may truly be said to have been a sacrifice to the interests of the Church. The unsettling of her domestic duties and habits, to which her temperament was particularly adapted, was, probably, directly and indirectly at the foun- dation of those causes, which gradually but too surely undermined he /■'•health, and prepared her t MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 27 for a premature grave. Her last change of resi- dence, which placed her in Princeton by the side of her paternal family, and amongst many of her youthful associates, seemed to her to fill up the measure, as it regarded this world, of that provi- dential goodness " which had followed her all the days of her lifie ;" and she said, not long after it took place, with a humility which was in itself an evidence of her gracious state, " I think, in view of all my mercies, there is a thankfulness experi- enced which is not the natural growth of my own heart." To us who remain it is given to see, that these unusual comforts were mercifully intended to soothe the infirmities of a rapidly dissolving body, and soften the approach of the last and most for- midable enemy. Several attacks of disease in the course of two years, which threatened to be immediately fatal, were, by the aid of skilful medical treatment, hap- pily arrested, but not until their baleful efiect had fastened on her feeble body, and each had left her " more a prey for death." And it was a cause of much thankfulness to her friends, that instead of one of those unexpected instant departures, which so frequently occur, and which in her case it was often feared would take place, the approach of death was gradual and mild, so as to involve no pain, and but little surprise. The simplicity of her character appeared through all her last days, especially after she ascertained 28 MEMOIR OF that her end was not far off. Her words were few, because she studied to utter none but " the words of truth and soberness ;" she seemed to feel that there might be a parade even in dying. After a short conversation in her room a day or two before she depaited, on the subject of the unprofitableness of our best works, which we found had deeply exercised her mind, she remarked with much emotion, a tear starting to her eye, "I feel the truth of these remarks;" but, after a pause, she said, " I have tried to do my duty as a wife and as a mother ; I have endeavoured to conduct the affairs of my family with discretion, and to instruct my children in the best things." She evidently clung to this as an evidence of grace, (and not at all as a cause of acceptance with God,) and as affording some hope for her children, when relied on in view of the promises of Him who says, that if this precious seed is sowed, grace shall insure the crop. Her Sabbath evenings, after the good old way of our puritan fathers, saw her with all her household, over whom she had any authority, gathered around her for the purpose of giving them that instruction which, with the promised blessing, would save them from the paths of sin and folly in this world, and prepare them for enjoying the blessedness of another. And through the distractions of an unset- tled life, and the hinderances experienced in a large boarding house, in which several winters were MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 29 spent with her family, she persevered as far as possible, in the instruction of both children and servants in the week and on the Sabbath, with a determination which both she and her friends thought had shortened her life. In view of this peculiar faithfulness to her domestic duties, we are the more willing to offer an apology for what appeared to some of her friends, an indifference to various extra means; which in these last times have been esteemed needful for the awakening of a slumbering church. When her mind began to open to this subject, the glory of our revivals was beginning to be tar- nished. " The enemy had begun to sow his tares." The extravagance which so frequently attended them, had produced in her no little disgust for what she thought the mere machinery of religion. In such circumstances, ii is difficult to "choose the good, and refuse the evil." The cast of her mind was such, that parade in any thing, and especially in the vital concerns, in which is involved our ever- lasting destiny, irresistibly revolted her mind. And the errors in principle and in practice, which had been by these means insinuated into, and corrupted the legitimate and professed doctrines and ordi- nances of the Presbyterian Church, greatly im- paired her confidence in what many good people esteemed genuine revivals of rehgion. Subsequent events have abundantly confirmed the wisdom of her early and deep distrust. 3^ 30 MEMOIR Of After her constitution had been tried with another violent and unusual attack, in March, 1838, which prostrated nearly all her remaining strength in a few hours, it was evident to many of her friends, that recovery was no longer to be expected. Every means, however, were made use of, that might in any way prove salutary; many of which, as has often occurred, were rather injurious than bene- ficial. As a last resource, a journey was com- menced, for the purpose of trying the Springs of Virginia, so highly recommended to invahds. She was not permitted, however, to go beyond Phila- delphia. Her physicians there, judging so long a journey very hazardous, gently arrested it, by pro- posing a delay of a few days ; thus endeavouring to obviate the effects of any disappointment which she might experience. Her own views seemed, spontaneously, to meet theirs, and a quiet acqui- escence was every day more manifest. After a consultation of physicians, in which they agreed that an effort might be safely made for her return to Princeton, the sweet complacency with which she said to a very kind friend, who was visiting her, " I am going home to-morrow," encouraged a hope that she had realized her danger; and that her will was gradually moulding to the Divine will, and she preparing for a far better home. It appeared as if she was permitted to get thus far on her journey, in order to gratify the feelings, and experience the renewed kindness of friends, MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 3J whom her husband had attached to his family, from his temporary labours amongst them. The attention of these, and indeed many others, whom their interesting circumstances were a means of winning to them, is deeply felt in the family circle, of which she was a beloved member ; and which will continue to be felt, as long as her memory shall be cherished amongst them. It was with difficulty that she was removed to her own residence at Princeton, a few days before she died, fully sensible that her departure was not far off. One of her anxious friends, wishing to be more satisfied of this, said: "You know, my dear Margaret, how ill you are ?" A most emphatic " O yes," silenced every remaining doubt. The day before she died, the conversation lead- ing to the subject of death, she said, "I am only afraid of the article of death : I know that when this is over, I shall be in Jesus' arms." From one, so slow to speak, these were encouraging words. A few hours after this, she awoke from a light sleep, with that sort of bewildered spirit, which is frequendy experienced under circumstances of so much weakness, especially when accompanied with, perhaps, the effects of an opiate, and repeated the name of a person, with which she had been familiar in her childhood. She observed, " what easy words !" Some one present remarked — there are words equally easy. She said, " tell me some." 32 MEMOIR OF Upon being referred to a Psalm which had been spoken of the day before, she commenced, as having found something exceedingly pleasant — " The Lord is my shepherd" — and continued to the end of this short and interesting portion of the Word of God, in a tone of sweetness and solem- nity, which impressed every one present, adding her testimony to the sweetness of the words. It appeared as if, while the world was fast receding, her character was rapidly finishing in the mould of this precious Word. Reason was continued to her until the last de- parting moment, when, after a violent but short struggle, which seemed to arrest every mental exercise, except that which led her spirit imme- diately to " Him who takes away the sting of death," the freshness of former years was restored to her complexion, which had been, for some months, suffused with feverishness, and marked with suffering, and a calm and solemn composure settled on her countenance, appearing full of mean- ing, which persuaded those who were around her, that she had some communication to make. But her mouth was sealed, and her hand could no longer eff'ect the gentlest pressure. We were left to conclude, that when in her agony she had cried — "Come, Lord Jesus — come quickly;" — "Lord Jesus receive my spirit," "she was heard, in that she asked;" and the freshness of everlasting youth. MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 33 casting one parting ray upon her mortal counte- nance, had passed upon her, and " she had gone to be forever with the Lord." " She being dead yet speaketh," and speaks, especially, to all who yet Uve of her youthful asso- ciates. Many of them are, as she was, called to sustain the character of wife and mother, and their history in its prominent features, most probably resembles hers. Her course was marked with much failure in duty, over which she mourned, and, in view of which she seemed deeply humbled. She once said — many months before she died — " O ! if the Lord were to send his bereaving com- mission into my family, I could never forgive myself for the manner in which I have failed to improve the trust committed to me, and fullilled the duties to which I have been called." Hear the voice which speaking, says, " My dear compa- nions in sin and infirmity, I leave you a poor example. But I exhort you to to become believ- ingly and affectionately acquainted with Him, who has borne me through the dark valley and shadow of death, and 'presented me faultless before his Father, clothed in his righteousness, and washed in his blood.' " " Ye cannot, though Christian wives and mo- thers, do the things ye would;" but there is a fountain opened, in which your poorest desires and efforts, though hke filthy rags, " may be washed and made white, and made instrumental for much 34 MEMOIR OF good. Point this out to your children, " talk to them in the house and by the way, in sitting down and rising up," of this only hope of perishing sin- ners. And lest, after all, they should come short, plead, unceasingly, the promises for them, and take hold by faith of the blessing. ! how will you rejoice if you can say, " Here am I Lord, and the children thou hast given me." In order to sus- tain your character as wives, aim continually, by prayer, to obtain the gift of a meek and quiet spirit, " which in the sight of God is of great price, that even the unbelieving husband may be won to the knowledge of the truth." May such exhortations from our departed friends, reach us all, and be sanctified to us — and may we " exhort one another, daily," so that our social intercourse may be made the means of grace, and assist in preparing us for our last great change ! MRS, BRECKINRIDGE. 35 CHAPTER II. ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF MRS. MARGARET BRECKINRIDGE. Whoever has been called, in the midst of life, to part with 'the wife of his youth' — if these pages should chance to meet his eye — will know what the writer has felt. Such a bereavement must he felt, in order to be understood. There is a shock in its coming for which no foresight or submission can fully prepare us. There is a chasm created by it which nothing can fill. It is a new experience, replete with dreadful desolation. It is a wonderful attribute of grace that can make these great afflictions so " work /or us an exceed- ing and eternal weight of glory," that the most weighty and enduring of them all, shall seem, in comparison, to be " light, and but for a moment." Yet " no chastisement," (especially such as this) " for the present seemeth to be joyous, but rather grievous." God intends that we shall be moved by such visitations. The call which they utter is too costly to be hghtly felt. The stroke is too deep to be hastily healed. " To faint when we are rebuked of Him," is to reproach the goodness of God, when we ought to " lay hold on his 36 MEMOIR OF Strength." But insensibility to his afflictive dis- pensations is to "despise" the methods of his grace. And who can fail to feel at such a moment ! To find one's self strangely, and after all the warnings mercifully given, suddenly left alone ; in the midst of life to be broken in twain ; to come to a time when you may no longer pray with her whose presence sweetened devotion itself; no more pray for her who many a year has been the Jear burden of ail your intercessions ; to see your orphan babes left desolate, and enhancing your woe, by being unconscious of their own; yea, " to sorrow most of all" for those dread words, " that you shall see her face no more !" This is ^ sorrow ! If it were possible, and being so, were right to ask it for others, we might pray for our readers, that they may be forever ignorant of our experience. But we know that every house is appointed to such a sorrow, sooner or later. They who are yet to pass through these deep waters, if they cannot now fully enter into our trials, may at least be expected to excuse this humble tribute to the dead, as an amiable weak- ness. But it is not bleeding affection, merely, which has prompted us to add to the foregoing brief nar- rative, these imperfect illustrations of the life and character of Mrs. Margaret Breckinridge. The bereaved children having been early called to lose a mother's care, justly claim of surviving friends MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. O"^ to preserve her image that they may gaze on it, and her example that they may imitate it, in after hfe. It is a cruel addition to an orphan's lot, to consign to the tomb even the memory of the dead. We refer not to the indecent and revolting haste with which every memorial of the deceased is swept into obhvion by those who, studious of new relations, are faithful only to forget. Such a spirit is abhorrent to every sentiment of humanity and religion. But it often happens that the disconso- late survivor, for a season careless of all things but of grief, neglects to treasure and record what God gave in peculiar trust to him — for the good of others. That godly example, which it cost the toils and the trials of a life to exhibit, ought not to be permitted to perish from the world. That " death of the saints," which " is precious in the sight of the Lord," and which so gloriously shows forth his praise, is worthy of a monument that time cannot consume. These should live ! We should embalm them in the memory of the heart. We should hand them down in the tradition of faithful love. We should record them in a house- hold book, if not publish them to the world — in honour of Jehovah; in memory of the beloved dead ; and for the good of those who, even while they were spared to them, were too young to know their value. It is the memory of the wicked alone which God has doomed to rot ; or if it live, to stand as a beacon on the brow of death. 4 38 MEMOIR OF There is another consideration of great tender- ness and force by which we have been influenced in making these sketches. Woman dwells, to speak so, in the shade of retirement ; and not like man, in the blaze of public life. In the household she sits enthroned, the weaker vessel, but the stronger power. Yet the domestic circle, in a great degree, circumscribes her influence ; shuts in her character. Her refinement — her patience — her hu- mility — her cheerfulness in trial — her fortitude — her readiness to forgive — her faithful, constant love — her self-devotion to her children — her per- sonal charms — her domestic virtues — her Chris- tian graces — which make her " The light and music of our happy homes," are little known beyond the narrow boundary of her own family, on which they continually rest, " like the dew of Hermon that descended upon the mountains of Zion." It is not less so with her do- mestic trials — with her perplexing domestic duties, as she meekly toils in "patient continuance" amidst their innumerable detail, and ever returning round. Now while the full disclosure and rewards must be reserved to the great day of final account, it is a special duty, on proper occasions, to bring such excellence to view. Without our care, this never will be done, since the graces that most adorn, are the most retiring. By an affectionate diligence in MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 39 this service, a thousand pearls might be brought from the recesses of domestic life, and added to the too scanty stock of memorable worthies. At least, we ought not to make oblivion the penalty of domestic virtue. On the other hand, the doing of proper justice to real female merit, would most effectually rebuke that assurance of coarse and fanatic women, who, in the insulted name of God, assume the prerogative, and attempt the offices of the stronger sex — forgetting that the immodesty which is offensive to all men, can never be an offering pleasing to a God of purity and order. By presenting to mankind examples of Christian women revolving in orderly beauty, and shining with mild lustre in their appointed course, we not only preserve the memory of those who rest from their labours, but we diffuse their influence abroad. If we may but do justice to the subject of these notices, she M^ould be herself the only being likely to complain, for she shrunk with instinctive sensi- bility from every such disclosure of her retiring character. Without repeating what has been said in the first chapter, we proceed to fill up the narrative given therein, by additional notices, which some one ought to furnish, and which a parent could not. It was God's peculiar mercy to Margaret (Mil- ler) Breckinridge, that she came into hfe under parental influence so admirable in all respects, that 40 MEMOIR OF she may be said to have been born and reared m a family, which, like that of Aquilla and Priscilla, " had a church in the housed She enjoyed, in its happiest form, a dome-stic Christian education, halving the Bible for the basis of knowledge ; the Parents for instructors ; the family fire-side for the school of manners ; and the royal law of love and truth, as the standard and source of all true polite- ness. Truly it is a goodly spectacle in these days of pretension, and vulgar parade ; of shallow learn- ing, and degenerate manners, to behold here and there a mother in Israel, after " the manner of the olden time," training her little flock without the aids of modern parties, fashions, vain accomphsh- ments, and earthly tinsel ; waiting with them day by day at the door-posts of that wisdom by which grace is poured into the lips, and mien, as well as heart — where " woman indeed becomes the glory of man;" (1 Cor. xi. 7,) and then to see her lead them forth into life, from these sacred shades, polished after the similitude of a palace.* Such a * The follow ingf passages are so graphic, that it would seem as if our day had set for the likeness, though they were written two thousand six hundred years ago: — "Moreover the Lord saith, because the daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched forth necks, win- cing as they go, and making a tinkling with their feet : Therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the crown of the head of the daughters of Zion : The Lord will take away in that day the bravery of their tinkling ornaments MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. ^\ school was well fitted to form the mmd, refine the manners, and under God to save the soul of our lamented friend. God had been pleased to endow her with an unusual measure of personal beauty, and great charm of character and mind. So that as soon as she entered into society, which she did with great reserve, she attracted much attention, and was universally admired. These things com- bined, might have been expected, especially in early life, to draw her into the world ; and lead her away from the humbling and self-denying reli- gion of her father's house. But even before she gave her heart to God, there was an inimitable simplicity in her character, manner, and dress, which evinced either a total unconsciousness of her attractions, or a noble superiority, to human praise. Her good taste, and the better principles of the Gospel, enabled her in all her. after life, notwith- standing the many temptations to which she was exposed, to exhibit the same transparent and lovely example. about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tire? like the moon, the chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers, the bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and the head-bands, and the ear-rings, the rings, the change- able suits of apparel, and the mantles, and the whimples, and the crisping pins, and the glasses, and the fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils." — Isaiah iii. chap. Behold the contrast! 1 Peter iii. 1-6. 1 Timothy ii. chap. 9-10. 42 MEMOIR OF HER RELIGIOUS CHARACTER. The work of the Spirit was early begun in her heart; but it was for some time resisted. Our acquaintance with her began just as she was closing her domestic education, (in her sixteenth year,) and almost before she had looked this evil world in the face. In 1820 she became decidedly serious ; and after several months of deep rehgious impression, expressed a trembling hope of an inte- rest in the Divine Redeemer. At this time she was strongly disposed to make a public profession of religion; but the salutary caution of her parents induced her to postpone it to a future occasion. Subsequently to this, the extreme fear which she ever after cherished, of self-delusion in religious exercises ; the high standard of Christian character which she had proposed to herself; and her strong conviction of the frequent and very hurtful incon- sistencies of many professors of religion; influ- enced her, in the end to defer that solemn step to a distant day. That day, as stated in the narra- tive, did not arrive until after her marriage, her removal to Kentucky, and her settlement as the wife of a pastor. In the mean time, however, it cannot be doubted, that the grace of God had taken possession of her heart. And when finally she did publicly connect herself with the people of God, her tenderness of heart, her self-distrust, her deep MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. ^3 humility, her child-Uke simphcity, and transpa- rency of Christian character, condemned her only for a delayed profession, and left few fears for her sake in any bosom but her own. She was in a remarkable measure devoted to the Word of God. Her extraordinary memory faith- fully stored with its rich treasure in early youth, vividly retained the chief part of it through life. The Psalmody of Dr. Watts, her favourite author in that department, she had almost wholly at her command. And with the Commentary of the inimitable Matthew Henry, a Latin and a French Bible, and a Harmony of the Gospels at her side, she daily and most devoutly searched the Scriptures. Clarke on the Promises, was also a favourite book, especially in her last days ; and the Pilgrim's Progress was her companion to the " water's edge," where her real visions of the ce- lestial city enabled her to lay the sweet Dreamer by, as the Parting Pilgrim did his crutches, when on the bank of the river he saw " chariots of fire" to bear him to the Pearly Gates. Her diligence in studying the Bible, without in the least degree neglecting her domestic duties, (and even in the days of her feeblest health,) was truly wonderful. When a subject specially interested her, she com- piled and collated all the leading passages of the Bible upon it; often writing them out at great length, and preserving them for reference on future occasions. Indeed, so far did she carry her inte- 44 MEMOIR OF rested inquiries into the various parts of the Old and New Testament, and especially into the life of Christ, that she drew out a harmony of the Gos- pels with her own hand ; the better to confirm her knowledge of the true order and relation of the events of his history. She was a most faithful hearer of the preaching of the Gospel. Her luminous face cheered the progress of the herald of the Lord, and marked the deep measure of her personal interest in the mes- sage from the skies. Since her decease, we have found numerous briefs of sermons which she had heard at different periods of her life, from those whom she most admired. Some of these were delivered by Dr. James P. Wilson, and some by her father, others by Dr. Green, but chiefly by the venerable and honoured friend whose tribute to her memory is affixed to this Memoir. He was un- doubtedly her most esteemed instructor from the sacred desk. His inimitable simplicity, vivacity, richness, and force of truth, always carried her un- derstanding and her affections along with him; and those appeals which were most searching and sim- ple, were most treasured and admired. To her refined and candid spirit, nothing was more detestable than religious parade. As it is in- timated in the former chapter, it sometimes served to repel her from things and people that were good, but savoured of religious cant. She was especially shocked with the numberless and painful examples MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 45 of female impropriety in this way, which our age has disclosed. But in all the appropriate walks of Christian females, and in every becoming expres- sion of their feelings and influence, though diffi- dent of herself, she promptly took her part. Per- haps her most cherished occupation in the service of others, was that of a Sunday-school teacher. Here she rejoiced in the work of her hands. Here, without indelicacy or pretension, she could use the word of God, in his house, and on his day, to teach the little children, whom like her Lord, she so much loved to take in her arms and bless. She had for this service uncommon adaptation in the vivacity of her mind, in the charm of her manner, and especially in the rich store of her Biblical know- ledge. She continued this relation after she be- came a wife, and a mother ; and the tenderness of a Christian mother's love seemed to be transferred to the little commonwealth of the Sabbath-school. We shall never forget the animation and delight with which she communicated to us, two years before her decease, the account of a visit which had been paid her very recently, by a highly respecta- ble young gentleman, then attached to a learned profession, the son of a distinguished public man, who had been a member of her Sunday-school class in Princeton, fifteen years before ! 44 MEMOIR OF rested inquiries into the various parts of the Old and New Testament, and especially into the life of Christ, that she drew out a harmony of the Gos- pels with her own hand ; the better to confirm her knowledge of the true order and relation of the events of his history. She was a most faithful hearer of the preaching of the Gospel. Her luminous face cheered the progress of the herald of the Lord, and marked the deep measure of her personal interest in the mes- sage from the skies. Since her decease, we have found numerous briefs of sermons which she had heard at different periods of her life, from those whom she most admired. Some of these were delivered by Dr. James P. Wilson, and some by her father, others by Dr. Green, but chiefly by the venerable and honoured friend whose tribute to her memory is affixed to this Memoir. He was un- doubtedly her most esteemed instructor from the sacred desk. His inimitable simplicity, vivacity, richness, and force of truth, always carried her un- derstanding and her aff'ections along with him; and those appeals which were most searching and sim- ple, were most treasured and admired. To her refined and candid spirit, nothing was more detestable than religious parade. As it is in- timated in the former chapter, it sometimes served to repel her from things and people that were good, but savoured of religious cant. She was especially shocked with the numberless and painful examples MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 45 of female impropriety in this way, which our age has disclosed. But in all the appropriate walks of Christian females, and in every becoming expres- sion of their feehngs and influence, though diffi- dent of herself, she promptly took her part. Per- haps her most cherished occupation in the service of others, was that of a Sunday-school teacher. Here she rejoiced in the work of her hands. Here, without indelicacy or pretension, she could use the word of God, in his house, and on his day, to teach the Uttle children, whom like her Lord, she so much loved to take in her arms and bless. She had for this service uncommon adaptation in the vivacity of her mind, in the charm of her manner, and especially in the rich store of her Biblical know- ledge. She continued this relation after she be- came a wife, and a mother; and the tenderness of a Christian mother's love seemed to be transferred to the little commonwealth of the Sabbath-school. We shall never forget the animation and delight with which she communicated to us, two years before her decease, the account of a visit which had been paid her very recently, by a highly respecta- ble young gentleman, then attached to a learned profession, the son of a distinguished public man, who had been a member of her Sunday-school class in Princeton, fifteen years before ! 46 MEMOIR OF HER DEDICATION TO THE WORK OF FOREIGN MISSIONS. It was not long after the first experience (as was hoped) of the grace of God in her heart, that the relation was formed between herself and the writer of these pages, which, by its consummation and close, became in succession the crowning joy and the absorbing sorrow of his life. While this interesting event, combined with other causes, was made the occasion (from an ex- cess perhaps of delicacy on her part) of retarding her public profession of religion, it led to an early and very decisive trial of her Christian principles in another form. At this time the friend whom she so much honoured by her affection, was devo- ted to the work of Foreign Missions ; and he had solicited her hand with the distinct expression, both to herself and her venerable parents, of such a purpose. This necessarily called her to con- sider the question of a personal engagement in this work. She met and decided this question with a promptitude and nobleness of Christian re- solution which surprised even those who knew her best; and though in the providence of God she was spared the expected trial of separation for life from her family and country, yet the unreserved dedication of herself to the Missionary cause which her Redeemer enabled her to make, gave elevation to her Christian character, and prepared her for MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 47 the trials scarcely less severe to which she was called in the domestic field. It was on the ground of her having thus dedicated herself, that with so much self-oblivion, and even cheerfulness, she encountered the many difficulties of which we are now to speak. HER SACRIFICES FOR THE CHURCH OF GOD. By a train of events over which we had no con- trol, and in the interpretation of which we were permitted to enjoy the direction of the Church, (it would be needless to recite them here,) we were hindered from indulging the desire to "go far hence to the Gentiles." But the principle of dedication for life was settled ; and hence it was from the first, understood and acted on at all times, that other things being equal, the field at home in which there was opportunity to do most for the conversion of the heathen, was always to be preferred, if ofl?ered by the Lord of the harvest. Her first and second set- tlements could scarcely be considered as giving oc- casion to many sacrifices. Lexington, Kentucky, was in the bosom of her husband's native state. There, in the garden of America, surrounded by a great circle of the most affectionate kindred and friends, and in a city remarkable as the Athens of the west for its refinement and general intelligence, and connected with a most kind and worthy con- gregation, Mrs. B. felt, that even separation from 50 MEMOIR OF ■f ■% ^ all, and consent to erect her domestic altar in the wilderness, and gather her little fold on the high- way, for Jesus' sake. When weary of a year of travel, undertaken to shun a year of separation, she returned to occupy and order her solitary home. There she was constrained, though both tender and inexperienced, " to guide her house" alone; and to receive her husband only as an occasional visitant. Still, she never murmured; nor would we com^' plain. But faithful history — now that she rests from her labours, requires this narrative ; and God permits the record of " those, works which foUotv^'' such "«s die in the Lord.'''' Thus, for five years, were kept up the alternations of these affecting trials. They were relieved, it must devoutly be ac- knowledged, by the unremitting attentions of those kind and lovely families in Philadelphia, whose virtues bound them to us by better ties than those of earthly kindred — as " Zion's friends, and ours;" whose reward we will not attempt to take out of a Saviour's hands by our poor praises ; and whose displeasure we shall only then be sure of incur- ring, when we attempt to unveil to the public eye, the authors of so much disinterested and untiring goodness. The same reference is due to very many families in the city of New York, in which, for several successive years, she passed the win- ters with her husband. He who thus imperfectly attempts to record his gratitude, knew her worth so well, that he cannot wonder that such friends Jfe MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 51 should love her ; and he feels it his duty here to say, that any portion of success in the work herein referred to, is under God, largely owing, not only to her influence on his labours, but to the charm which she threw upon every circle with which she mingled, and the interest she kindled in all the persons and objects which interested her. When, at the end of two years, he felt overwhelmed with the review of her domestic trials, and was strongly moved to abandon a work which made them inevi- table, she earnestly resisted the thought of change ; and \y\x\\ generous self-devotion urged her husband forward in a work which, though painful to her feelings, was in her view useful to the Church, and pleasing to its glorious Head. As her impres- sions were those of all her friends, and apparently of the Church at large, and as the Board itself kindly relaxed some of the severer features of our trials, we were confirmed in the conviction that it was our duty to persevere, lest we should incur the divine displeasure, " by being iveary in well- doing ^ AVhen, however, the indications of divine Provi- dence in the spring of 1835 seemed plainly to say, that our work for the Board of Education was done, and that we ought to enter the door opened for us at Princeton, she was the last to see the duty of a removal ; and though her parental home was there, and though her heart and her wearied nature cried aloud for rest, she would not allow any reasons for the change, to be drawn from her 52 MEMOIROr W wishes or her sacrifices, and to the last, rather submitted to, than heartily approved of, the new relation. But how deep are the ways of God ! Scarcely had she time to establish herself in her new home at Princeton,* when another and loud call to an agency, directly in behalf of Foreign Missions, was pressed upon us. Though at this period her health had become evidently far more delicate, she heard and heeded again the voice of her Saviour ; and still recalling the Missionary vow, offered her- self again a willing sacrifice on the altar of God. In deciding this momentous question (in the winter of 1838, after having spent but eighteen months in Princeton, nearly half of which was occupied by her husband in active agency in behalf of the funds, library, &c. of the Theological Seminary,) * It is at once a remarkable indication of the noble- ness of those Philadelphia friends already named, and of the extent to which her worth and her sacrifices were appreciated, that on being informed of our final purpose to remove to Princeton, they united in the purchase of a commodious dwelling, which was presented to Mrs. Breckinridge and her children. It is true, one object in view was, the accommodation of the Professor (for the time) of Pastoral Theology and Missionary instruction in the Seminary. But the terms of the gift are specific; and when we attempted to alter the direction of this mu- nificent testimonial, so as to make it the property of the Institution^ it was peremptorily declined ; and the deed was drawn in the name of Margaret Breckinridge and her children. ■f MKS. BRECKINRIDGE, 53 we found ourselves incapable of being instrumental in recalling her still again to the commotion, deser- tion at home, and incessant cares, of another agency. Three months therefore were given to the important work, and the offer of the office finally declined. Even here however, she persist- ed in referring the decision to public relations alone, leaving all personal considerations out of view. And though fast approaching her end (what at that time none of us knew) she spontaneously put herself at the disposal of the friends of the Board of Foreign Missions, for her part of any ser- vice which might be required of her husband, whether it was in extensive journeys with him, or separation from him, or a winter's sojourn with him and her children in the city of New York. For the first, hoping it might invigorate her health, she was actually furnished ; and when that was abandoned for the last, she repaired, with the spi- rit of her Master in her heart, to meet the trials it induced. It was in the fresh recollection of the parting scene, on her way thither, that the follow- ing sentences were addressed to the writer by the Rev. Dr. Alexander. " I cannot conclude, without a word to dear Mrs. Breckinridge. I admire her ready submis- sion to the calls of Providence. For although she cannot help dropping the silent tear, she makes no complaint, but shuts up her comfortable house, leaves her home and her friends, and as cheerfully as she can, goes to live in a hotel, and among 5* 54 MEMOIR OF strangers. Well, she shall not lose her reward. For these sacrifices she shall have rich compensa- tion : and our sweetest earthly pleasure is in doing the will of our Heavenly Father." (Dated Prince- ton, December 17th, 1837.) At the close of the winter we returned to Prince- ton, ho.ping that now God would grant us a little rest in that quiet village and that delightful home, where not ^^ unaware we entertained an angeiy But ah ! this blessedness was not long intended for us. Having done her work, (though still we did not fear it,) she was soon to be taken to her rest and her reward on high. HER LAST SICKNESS AND DEATH. Her last sickness was of a protracted and very interesting character. "When she returned from New York, she was delicate and her state of health was mysterious, but not yet alarming even to her physicians. Very soon after this, she had a vio- lent attack, which in a short season prostrated her frame, and, disclosing a pecuUar complication of diseases, overwhelmed every mind in the family, but her own, (she was calm,) with the most gloomy apprehensions of her danger. At the close of the winter term of the Theolo- gical Seminary, (May first,) it was our anxious desire to take her to the Red Sulphur Springs in Virginia. But it was too early in the season ; and being yet doubtful, whether this or that place would be useful or hurtful, it was agreed by her MRS. BRECKINRIDGE, 55 physicians to indulge her strongly expressed wish to try the waters of Saratoga. Thither there- tore we went, pausing only a short time in the city of New York for medical consultation. At this time, she was a most interesting object to all who saw her. Her debility was so extreme that she was borne from place to place in the arms of her husband, which, from her delicate frame, it was easy to do. The gentleness and patience with which she endured her sickness, the inimi' table moral beauty of her countenance, and the general expression of frailty mingled with grace, excited the deepest interest wherever she passed.* At Saratoga we spent a very quiet season of three weeks, (before the great hotels were opened, or the crowds had arrived) at the house of a most kind and deserving Christian woman, Mrs. Tay- lor, whose unceasing attentions greatly conduced to soothe sufferings which God had pleased should not be- arrested. During this visit she used the waters freely, as a beverage, and in the bath, with no apparent injury, except that it evidently dis- * There is poetic beauty in the Stanza of Southey's on the portrait of Bishop Hebcr, written after his decease ; and though fanciful it is striking. Blessed be God our Redeemer, we have surer marks of recognition in the heavenly world. " They too, will gaze Upon his effigy With reverential love, Till they shall grow familiar with its lines And know him when they see his face in heaven."' 56 MEMOIR OF closed the fatal symptoms of her malady. She was able almost every day, to take gentle rides in the open air, and frequently to mingle with the family. But her chamber was her sanctuary. There she reclined, feeding on the Word of God. She was especially delighted with Clarke on the Promises. During that season of seclusion, she seemed to grow in grace with a progress which surprised (while it delighted) us; for we knew not then how near she was to the perfection of the heavenly rest. But it has since been interpreted to us, by the event, as one of God's peculiar mercies. What made this the more pleasing evidence of grace was, that she did not know her own danger. It was the power of religion poured upon her spirit by Him who was " hastening to make her up among his jewels." At one time, she said — "Oh, yes, pray that the distance between God and me may be taken away." And after uniting, with the most affecting solemnity and tenderness in the prayer which was offered, she at its close expressed aloud her joy in the exercise, (a thing most unusual with her) and her delight in God her Saviour, who draweth nigh. On another occa- sion, after hearing some of the promises of healing to the body, as collected by Clarke, she seemed for a moment to be musing, she then gently said: " My dear 1 am like the poor woman who had spent all her living upon physicians, neither could be healed of any ; but rather grew worse. My hope is in the Great Physician V MRS. BRECKINRIDGE. 57 Since we have been calm enough to review the various stages of her last sickness in relation to her religious exercises, it has been a subject of deep regret, and of no little self-reproach, that we had not made the attempt at recording, as they were uttered, some of the deeply affecting ex- pressions of her Christian principles and feelings. But the tumultuous hour of hope and fear, and hurried, anxious watching at the bed of death, is not the time for cool calculation. Some of the most affecting parts of such scenes are incapable of being written down, even by one not interested in the sufferer. Nay, more— like the voices which John heard from heaven in Patmos, the Spirit seems to say of them, " write them not:' These are "joys with which the stranger intermeddleth not." (Prov. xiv. 10.) It is a sanctuary which no creature can enter. And then our beloved Friend, who was often afraid to whisper her religious joys to her Saviour, lest she should be found offering " strange fire" on his aUar, seldom talked of her hopes, (though often of her sins,) to her nearest friends ; and never, by ivritmg them down, put it in the power of posthumous pubhcations to expose them to the view of others. We can only, there- fore, illustrate her religious character, at the stage which we now approach, by broken fragments of thoughts and feehngs, caught from her lips amidst the awful mercies of a dying hour. She began at length, visibly to sink, when Dr. 58 MEMOIR OF Freeman, of Balston, whose skilful and kind atten- tions she enjoyed, (Dr. Steel, of Saratoga, having himself been recently removed by death,) strongly advised a discontinuance of the use of the waters, and an attempt to reach the Red Sulphur Springs. For now the prevaihng type of the disease had become distinctly pulmonary ; and the skill of phy- sicians, and the healing waters, and all the help of man were vain. Now, for the first time, we began to discern the dread reality of her approach- ing dissolution; and had some foretaste of the^?'sf anguish of such a loss.* With heavy hearts, but hastened steps, we re- * The following touching stanzas do more real honour to their illustrious author, (Lord Palmerston) than all the distinctions of his high rank and public life. Whoe'er, like me, with trembling anguish brings His clearest earthly treasure to these springs ; Whoe'er, like me, to soothe disti-ess and paiu, Shall court these salutary springs in vain: Condemn'd, like me, to hear the faint i*eply, To mark the fading cheek, the sinking eye— From the chill brow to wipe the damps of death. And watch in dumb despair the short'ning breath :— If chance should bring him to this humble line, Let the sad mourner know his pangs were mine. Ordain'd to l However erroneous he may be, hear him out; and however certain you may be, that, his representations are false, rectify his mistake, not bluntly, but with kindness and res- pect. Guard against talking too much in company. He who is very talkative incurs disadvantages of a very serious kind. He cheapens himself; tires his hearers ; and must, of course, diminish his useful- ness. However rich and instructive any one's talk may be, yet, if there be too much of it, both his dignity and his influence cannot fail of being impaired. " A fool's voice," says Solomon, " is known by the multitude of his words." " In the multitude of words," says the same inspired teach- er, " there wanteth not sin ; but he that refraineth his lips is wise." And again, " He that hath knowledge, spareth his words." But another extreme in social intercourse, is that of excessive reserve and taciturnity. Some from physical temperament; others from abstrac- tion or absence of mind ; and a third class, per- t X A GRANDFATHER. 95 haps, from still more exceptionable causes, wrap themselves up in a chilling reserve in company — never speaking but when addressed; and then answering as briefly as possible, and relapsing into silence again. This is surely unhappy in a social being, and ought to be carefully avoided. While you avoid garrulity, then, sink not down into obsti- nate silence. If you find yourselves, from any cause, prone to this, it is abundantly worth while to take pains to counteract it, and to labour to have something ready to say that shall be at once acceptable and instructive. In regard to uncleanly and vulgar personal habits, I will not suppose you capable of them; and, therefore, shall not dwell upon them. All spitting on floors, lounging in your seats, putting up your feet on chairs or stools, leaning with your elbows on tables — these, and all similar habits, I hope, after the training you have had, you will avoid with instinctive repugnance. But there is one habit which I would earnestly recommend, as favourable not merely to good manners, but also to health. Learn to sU erect, not only in company, but even in your most private apartment. Reading or writing in a half-sunken or reclining posture is unfriendly to a graceful carriage ; is apt to betray unwarily into similar postures in company; pre- pares the way for the sinking, half-bent postures which disfigure so many of the feeble and aged ; 96 LETTERS OF and really tends to bring on premature decrepi- tude. Do not affect loit ox punning in conversation. So many of those who try to make themselves acceptable by such attempts, not only fail, but often render themselves a laughing stock by it, that there is litde probability of your succeeding as wits or punsters. But even with respect to those whose talents in this way are ever so great, there is so much danger of their indulging those talents unsea- sonably and imprudently, so as to offend and alien- ate friends, that such powers ought to be depreca- ted rather than desired, and their exercise, if pos- sessed, subjected to the severest restriction. I never knew more than one person of wit who was strict- ly discreet and dehcate in its use. But I have known thousands who, by their miserable attempts to display what they possessed either not at all, or in a very small degree, succeeded only in exposing themselves to ridicule. And I have known many real wits, who almost every day wounded feelings, and alienated friends by their reckless effusions. Do not indulge the habit in conversation of talk- ing of yourselves. . Hardly any quality is more apt to appear in social intercourse than personal vanity. This leads to egotism, so that the idea of self appears to be ever present to the imagination. Hence we perpetually find people talking of them- selves ; what X\\Qy have done ; what they have A GRANDFATHER. Q^ said; what others have said and done to their honour ; in short, bringing into view something to their own advantage, or that of their family or relatives. Rely upon it, if you have real worth, the less you say about it the better ; and if you have it not, every claim of it, direct or indirect, can only sink you lower in the estimation of those with whom you converse. Carefully form the habit of adverting to all the properties oi time, place and circumstances in con- versation. When you are about, in company, to make a remark, or to introduce a new topic of conversation, look round on the circle, and ask yourself, whether there is any one present whose feelings would be likely to be hurt by what you are about to say, or who would be placed by it in embarrassing circumstances. Be very sure for example, when about to make, in company, an unfavourable remark on an absent person, that no relative or special friend of that person is among your hearers. For, although you ought never to make a remark on any one which the Christian spirit cannot justify; yet in certain circumstances a remark perfectly proper in itself, may be unsea sonable, and peculiarly painful to some who hear it, Guard against the possibility of such an occurrence, This is a dictate of sound worldly policy. A de parture from it is a gross violation of true polite ness. But it may be said, still more emphatically 98 LETTERS OF to be a departure from the principles of Christian benevolence. Avoid the too frequent use of superlatives in con- versation. The habit of many, when they wish to express either approbation or censure, is to employ the very strongest terms which the English language affords. If they think favourably of the talents or the performance of any one, they are apt to speak of them as " noble, admirable," as of " the first order;" or in some terms expressive of the very highest excellence. And, on the other hand, if they undertake to express disapprobation, the terms "mean," "execrable," "detestable," are the softest that they think of employing. This is a bad habit. It renders both the praise and cen- sure of those who indulge it of less value in the estimation of all sober-minded and discriminating judges. If you wish your judgment to pass for any thing in the view of the wise and reflecting, you must learn to express opinions in that guarded and moderate manner which indicates intellectual discrimination rather than undistinguishing emo- tion. You know where it is said " Fools admire, where men of sense approve." Carefully avoid giving unnecessary trouble wher- ever you are. The diflference between different persons in this respect is very conspicuous. Some, when in the houses of their friends, have so many lilde wants, so many errands to perform, and are A GRANDFATHER. QO SO absorbed in their own affairs, that, if permit- ted, they would keep several servants and others constantly employed in waiting upon them. You may rely upon it you can never be, long together, welcome visitants in families which you subject to so much trouble. Make as few demands as possi- ble on the time and attention of those whose hospi- tality you are enjoying. Never call upon their servants to wait upon you when it is practicable to avoid it. Never allow the occupations or order of any family to be set aside or disarranged on your account, where it is possible to prevent it. In short, act universally on the principle of doing every thing that you can for yourselves, and mak- ing as few demands as possible on the time and labour of those around you. In calling on friends consult their convenience, as well as your own; and in some cases in prefer- ence to your own. JVIany make their calls at such hours, and sit so inordinately long, as to throw a whole family into disorder, and inflict very serious pain. Never sit long in your social calls at any time ; but when you make them at times which may, by possibiUty interfere with domestic meals, let them be very short; be on the watch for every symptom of engagement or uneasiness on the part of those whom you visit, and on the appearance of any thing of the kind, instantly take your leave. Constantly maintain the habit of early rising. Few things are more conducive to health and ac- I 100 LETTERS OF tivity both of body and mind. A disposition to lie long in bed in the morning, is, at once, a symptom and a cause of feeble digestion, of nervous debility, and of general languor. Go early to bed. Avoid much night study. Quit your beds by dawn of day, and, in winter, before the dawn, and thus se- cure several hours of unbroken time, for devotion, for study, and for gentle exercise in the open air, before breakfast, and before the interruptions of the earliest visiters commence. Cultivate habits of moderation in dress. You are never likely to be able to indulge in very inordinate expense in bodily adorning ; and I will venture to say, this inability, wherever it exists, is a- great blessing. Few things evince more weak- ness of mind, and absence of Christian principle, than extravagance and splendor in dress. In young men it is a sad evidence of " dandyism" and folly ; and even in young females, an exces- sive indulgence in fashion, in finery, and the extreme of devotion to bodily adorning, never fails to depress their character in the estimation of the wise and good. Try to set an example of sober, dignified moderation in regard to this whole subject. Always guard against negligence of dress. Conscientiously avoid exposing yourselves to the charge of careless, slatternly habits. But never make dress an idol. Reject every thing dazzling, or what is commonly called "dashing," in out- ward ornament. Be not seen aping the extreme A grandfathe: 101 of fashion; and ever remember how unworthy it is of Christians to be worshippers of external adorning; and how pecuUarly disreputable for the children of clergymen to bear such a character. Thus, dear children, I have endeavoured, with brevity, to give you a few paternal counsels, which, I would fondly hope, may, by the grace of God, be made to promote your benefit, when the hand which penned them shall be sleeping in the dust. You will perceive from the order in which I have placed my counsels, that I con- sider real heart religion as the most indispensable and precious of all attainments ; that my first and highest wish concerning you is, that you may love your Father's and Mother's God, and make it your daily aim to follow her to that world of bliss and glory to which, as we trust, she has gone before us. Next to seeing you real Christians, my desire is to see you enlightened, pohshed, benevolent, amiable, attractive members of society, respected and beloved by all who know you. Remember, I beseech you, that the friends of your Parents will expect much from you. The advantages which you have enjoyed, and are daily enjoying, impose upon you a solemn responsibility in the sight both of God and man. Many prayers have ascended to heaven on your behalf. Pray without ceasing for yourselves, that you may be 10 Q2 LETTERS OF preserved from the paths of sin and folly, and led in the ways of heavenly wisdom. I have no doubt that the counsels I have given you will commend themselves to your judgment, and that you will promptly form the resolution to make them your constant guide. But you cannot rely upon your own wisdom or strength to do this. Such are your own infirmities, and so multiplied the temptations and allurements which surround you, that you will need at every step, guidance and help from above. Happy will it be for you if you habitually bear this in mind, and acknowledge God in all your ways, that he may direct your steps. And now, dear children, I bid you farewell. When I look forward, and imagine to myself what may be your course in life — when I think of the corruptions and perils with which you are sur- rounded, and what may be the result of them, I hardly know how to express my anxieties and fears : but when I recollect the love and faithful- ness of that God who blessed your Parents, I feel willing to commit you into his hands, and to trust his grace for your temporal and eternal welfare. May he guide you by his counsel! May he guard you amidst all the dangers of youth and of riper years ; and finally, " present you faultless be- fore the presence of his glory with exceeding great joy !" O how unutterably precious the thought , , «A GRANDFATHER. J[03 of meeting you all at last — with those ol" our beloved family who have already gone before us, and those who are yet to follow — around the throne of our covenant God, and rejoicing forever in his presence and glory ! Such will be the prayer until his last breath, of your Affectionate Grandfather, SAMUEL MILLER. Princeton, July 10, 1839. }\- -^V •V^ THE END. m 4i' m 1 * M