I ALUMNI LIBRARY, t THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, f I ¥ f" PRINCETON, N. J. * * f- BX 8495 .C57 A3 1833b Clarke, Adam, 17607-1832. An account of the infancy, religious and literary lif<5 ft * ■ AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ADAM CLARKE, LL.D., ETC., ETC., ETC. ( tl3- See the Preface.) AN ACCOUNT INFANCY, RELIGIOUS AND LITERARY LIFE, ADAM CLARKE, LL.D., F.A.S., ETC., ETC., ETC. WRITTEN BY ONE WHO WAS INTIMATELY ACQUAINTED WITH HIM FROM HIS BOYHOOD TO THE SIXTIETH YEAR OF HIS AGE. EDITED ' V THE Rev. J. B. B. CLARKE, M. A., THIN. COM,. CAMBRIDGE. Habuit a nalura, genus quoddam acuminis, quod etiam arte limaverit, (/hoc? crat in rcprchendis verbis versutum el solera ; sed sccpe stomacho- sum, vonmtnquam friuidum, inlerdtim eliamfaretum. Xap,n St Ocov, tip 6 (Mil. D. APPLETON & CO. CLINTON HALL. »•'■» * HmrjULJ ; ColliiiK* Co.; N. & J. Whil»; J. Witt : M-Elrath.Banp, 4 ih-Tbetl -PhilaMphia '">?* * VMM . Cir.«r. Imhh, A I V. : i'l. n, I, * I'-.kin. -/!„.',„.„„•. llMtr H M'l'oiwll *<•„ Aniinlrun? Si I'i.i-k. I. -IS,,.fu, (•„,>«, il. n.l- .-. 4 C, I * ! Mm uuU ; IVrkm. * Mmiu * Dr>».:« -lhrlf,,r Sir, I,. ; \V C. I . ,1 1 1, ■._/,;„„ „ M a . k A t,«|t„«._ |.V« "'■"i'F-4'l'nr,, VV W,Hl,U, i, _«„,•■'„■„■(, r; | | „„ I VlcT. A I u - /{„ '|,„„;,,( ; K. 1 S„llljj.- A , „! I.,, >»le by BooMltrs generally. PREFACE. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2014 https://archive.org/details/accountofinfancy00clar_2 PREFACE. There are some circumstances respecting the succeed- ing Memoirs which require explanation, and others which need statement. " If these Memoirs were written by the late Dr. Clarke, how happens it that they speak in the third person, and appear as though composed by an intimate friend?" — The third person was assumed in order to obviate an un- pleasant appearance of egotism which Autobiography must always assume, more or less offensive, according to the skill of the Narrator. In this, Dr. Clarke did but follow the example of other great names, and availed himself of a disguise, previously made known to the Readers, that the mere Individual might not be per- petually obtruding himself upon their notice : the atten- tion being fixed upon the passing events and described feelings, the Author temporarily forgotten, the judgment may be thus formed, not from the bias of Dr. Clarke's felt 5 PREFACE. presence, but from the facts as recorded in the Narrative - a mask which gives courage but conceals no feature. Various members of his family, as well as some of his most intimate friends, frequently and urgently pressed Dr. Clarke to publish, or prepare for publication, a Memoir of himself ; stating that this would be the only effectual mode of preventing false or weak productions being palmed upon the world as faithful Memoirs. To all representations, however, he remained deaf, till one day a friend came and told him, " he had received sure infor- mation of a Life of him being even then in preparation ; that all his Conversations had been taken down, all his Letters treasured up, all his Observations noted, with the view of being embodied when the anticipated event should take place to call them into public being ; that little dis- cretion would be used in selecting; since, the object being gain, all would be published which would sell ; and that even were some conscience shown, still there was no judgment to direct; but indiscreet zeal, or the hope of ' ungodly gains,' would slay his fame in the house of his friend."* Dr. Clarke felt the force of such observations, * It is not one of the least remarkable facts connected with the life of Dr. Clarke, that the individual here alluded to died before the Doctor; and was visited by him and his youngest son during a long and tedious illness. There is a farther notice of this affair in the following Letter to his eldest son. Liverpool, June 15, 1819. My Dear John, Some time ago, you wrote requesting me to set about writing the history of my Life ; this is a task which, while I have contemplated, PREFACE. 9 and the next morning when he came down to breakfast, he said to his friend, " I have been up long before day, I have feared to attempt ; but I have thought more of the subject, since you wrote; and have lately been obliged to think deeply on it too, in consequence of receiving credible information, that my Life is ready for the greedy eye of the public, so soon as my heart shall be cold ! I came here yesterday evening, and in a private conversation with my friend Mr. , he most solemnly begged, and charged me to begin the work, because he knew some hackneyed, and hunger-bitten scri- veners were ready to praise me to death, and to murder me in verse so soon as I ceased to exist among men ; and I was led to believe that all the conversations, and anecdotes relative to myself and family for several years past, have been carefully taken down, and as carefully preserved. Mr. Comer took up the same subject, and most earnestly begged me instantly to begin, and defer it no longer. Well, what can I do 1 the Commentary is still hanging on my hands. True, I am free from the Records, which gives me a measure of leisure, and saves me from much anxiety; laying all these considerations together, with the semel calcanda via, and Mr. Comer being in good earnest, and having provided and laid on his study table ruled paper for the pur- pose, I sat down yesterday and made a trial ! * * * * And thus have I brought myself on in my journey through life, to the ninth year of my age : and unless death stop me, I shall not stop in it till this be finished. I have written it in the third person as to the subject, and in the first person as to the narrator. This form may be altered if neces- sary. I recollect, when Mr. Thorsby wrote his own life, the pronoun /occurred so often in it, that the printer was obliged to borrow i's from his brother printers, as his l's had run out. Your father has never been in the habit of speaking much of himself ; he has never boasted, nor pretended great things ; and it would ill become him, when about to pass the great deep, to occupy his time, or that of his Readers, with unreal history, or unceremonious, and, generally speaking, unwelcome pronouns. Now, suggest to me, my dear John, any thing that strikes you— any thing I should not forget, or any thing on which I should lay particular stress, &c. &c. July 3. I go on but slowly with the Life; and yet I get on. A few pages more might terminate what may be called my initial and religious history, and here I might leave it, for all the purposes of illustrating either God's providence or His grace. My literary life, as it may be called, is another thing ; and belongs more to the world, than to the Church of God ; and I question if ever I shall attempt it. 10 PREFACE. and have written several quarto sheets of my very close and small writing as a commencement of the history of my early life." This he continued, at various short intervals, till be brought it down to a period beyond which no inducement or solicitation could persuade him to pro- reed; " My early life" [much in this manner he would speak,] " no one can know ; nor can any one describe my feelings and God's dealings with my soul, some of which are the most important circumstances in my life, and are of most consequence to the religious world : — these I have now secured, and placed in their proper light : — what therefore others could neither have known nor described so truly as I, are here prevented from being lost : — my public life many have known, and it is before the world ; if it be of importance, there will be found some who will transmit its events to posterity; and being passed before the eyes of all men, should there be misrepresentations, there will necessarily be plenty who can correct them : — at any rate, I have done what I feel to be the most import- ant part ; for the rest, there are ample materials ; and, as the living will, in all probability, write of the dead, let my survivors do their part. — Nothing shall ever induce me to torite the history of that portion of my life when I bega?i to acquire fame, and great and learned men saw fit to dignify with their acquaintance, and to bestow honours and distinctions on, a Methodist Preacher." In this reso- lution he never for a moment wavered, and hence there was no more of his Life written by himself than what is contained in the present volume. PREFACE. 1 1 When Dr. Clarke was told of the above intention to publish after his death all that he had either written or spoken in the confidence of private friendship, or in the familiar intercourse of occasional conversations, he was very indignant, expressing his abhorrence of such " pre- meditated treachery," as a man's coming into a family to act the part of a spy, — to record mutilated opinions, hand down disjointed conversations, and to proclaim as the re- sult of deliberate judgment what might have been either a hasty expression of feeling, or a merely casual or unim- portant remark : — " In conversation or correspondence I never either spoke or wrote for the public ; friendly inter- course was my sole object in the one case, and in the other relaxation from severe thought ; after I have been writing and studying from five in the morning till half- past seven at night, it is hardly likely that I should come into the parlour with a disposition or preparation to shine. — I write because it is necessary, and I talk because I am cheerful and happy." The strong feeling of Dr. Clarke on this point is thus recorded, that the Public may not hereafter be deluded upon the subject, as if he had au- thorized any to take down any of his conversation on any occasion: — he had too much respect for the good sense and regard of mankind ever to come before them with inconsideration ; and was the last man in the world ever to be himself a party consenting to the wounding of his hard-earned fame by the publication of unprepared docu- ments. Such conduct he always considered as treacherous in a friend, disgraceful to a man, and shameful to a Chris- ra PREFACE. tian. His opinion of the publishing Letters, because they were written by a certain individual, he has himself ex- pressed in the following pages. (See page 200.) The Editor of this volume has had very little trouble in the performance of his office ; for the Manuscript was left in so complete a state by Dr. Clarke, that few things needed any alteration. No addition of any kind has been made, not even the insertion of any thing which the Au- thor himself had formerly written, but had not himself introduced: this was judged necessary, that Dr. Clarke might not be rendered accountable for what another had chosen to insert : for this reason some Letters are referred to the end which might otherwise have been included and wrought into the body of the Work. It may be expedient to add a few words concerning the remaining portion of this Work, which has been written by "A Member of the Family." For this part Dr. Clarke supplied all the materials ; he gave up his Journals, his Common-place Book, his private papers, and wrote many of the accounts contained in it with his own hand ; and after the whole was digested into a Narrative, up to the year 1830, he looked over it and placed his signature to each sheet as a testimony that the alleged facts were true, leaving the Author of course accountable for the manner of their expression, as well as for the mode of their com- bination. Any farther particulars which may be necessary will be mentioned in the Preface to the succeeding volume. PREFACE. 13 It is highly probable that many, on the perusal of this Work, may be inclined to exclaim, " We have heard strange things to-day;" and others may be excited to purer faith and greater diligence in the ways of godliness. To the latter, may the Author of all good grant an assurance to their faith, and strength and continuance to their work- ing ; while to the former, may their hesitancy be overcome, that they may walk in a like path, and the "strange things" be converted into the experienced feelings of their own hearts, and the enjoyed blessings in their own souls. J. B. B. CLARKE. Frome, November, 1832 2 INTRODUCTION. INTRODUCTION. It is to be regretted that few persons who have arrived at any degree of eminence or fame, have written Memorials of themselves, at least such as have embraced their private as well as their public life. By themselves or contempora- ries their public transactions have been in general amply recorded, with the apparent motives which led them to their particular lines of action, and the objects they aimed at by thus acting : but how they became capable of acting such parts ; how theft minds acquired that impulse which gave them this direction ; what part an especial Providence, pa- rental influence, accident, or singular occurrence, and edu- cation, had, in forming the man, producing those habits which constitute his manners, and prepared him for his future lot in life, we are rarely told. And without this, we neither can trace the dispensations of Providence, nor the operations of those mental energies by which such effects have been produced. Hence the main benefit of biography is lost, — emulation leading to imitation has no scope. We cannot follow the man because we do not see his previous footsteps : he bursts generally on our sight, like a meteor, and we are dazzled with the view : to us he is inimitable 2* 18 INTRODUCTION. because he is enrobed with all his distinguishing perfec- tions and eminence before we are introduced to his acquain- tance. Were it otherwise, we should probably see that those who have reached the highest degrees of elevation beyond those who were born in the same circumstances and line of life, were not indebted so much to anything extraordinary in themselves, as to a well-timed and sedu- lous use of their own powers, and such advantages as their circumstances afforded ; and that what occurs to others, as mere accidents, were by them seized and pressed into their own service, and shewed them the necessity of attentive observation, that neither occurrence nor moment, should pass by unnoticed or unimproved. We may rest satisfied that effects, which evidently have nothing in them supernatural, spring from natural causes : that the whole is an orderly procession, and appears asto- nishing to us, only because we do not see that concatena- tion of circumstances which, by a steady operation, produ- ced the result. Few men can be said to have inimitable excellencies : let us watch them in their progress from infancy to man- hood, and we shall soon be convinced that what they attain- ed was the necessary consequence of the line they pursued, and the means they used. But these things are not known, because we have not the history of their lives in any conse- cutive order : that of their infancy, when life ordinarily gets its direction and colouring, is generally suppressed by them- INTRODUCTION 10 selves or narrators ; possibly, because it is deemed insig- nificant ; or because men who have risen out of the lower or middle classes of life, to literary or civil distinction, are unwilling to tell their small beginnings; and thus, through false shame, what would really redound to their honour, explain apparent mysteries in the Providence which conducted the affairs of their lives, and would render those lives truly and endlessly useful, by shewing that they were perfectly imitable, is lost to mankind. I say nothing of those things which may not be improperly termed bio- graphical romances, — lives which were never lived, and virtues which were never practised. To exhibit a man through every period of his life, who has obtained some distinction as well in the republic of letters as in religious society ; and how he acquired this distinction, is the principal design of the following sheets: and the reason for doing this, is threefold: — 1. To mani- fest the goodness of God to those who trust in Him ; and how He causes all things to work together for the good of such persons ; that He may have the praise of His own grace : and, 2dly, To prevent the publication of improper accounts, the only object of which is to raise unholy gains, by impositions on the public. 3dly. To shew to young men, who have not had those advantages which arise from elevated birth and a liberal education, how such defects may be supplied by persevering industry, and the redemp- tion of time. Young Ministers, especially, may learn from these Memoirs a useful lesson. They see what has 20 INTRODUCTION. been done towards mental improvement, in circumstances generally worse than their own, and that a defect in ta- lents frequently arises from a defect in self cultivation : and that there is much less room for excuse than is ge- nerally supposed: in short, that no quarter should be shewn to those who while away time, and permit a sort of religious gossipping to engender in them the disgraceful habits of indolence or sloth. It is hoped, and not unreason- ably, that they will see from a perusal of this work, that the divine Providence is never parsimonious in affording all necessary advantages, and if duly improved, neither they, nor the people to whom they minister, will have much cause to complain of a deficiency of gifts through inadequate supplies of Providence, or inefficient influence from grace. Those who consider such cases as that here exhibited without profit, must have an incurable hebitude of disposition, with which it would be in vain to contend, as they have reconciled themselves to its indulgence, and thus have become "such as cannot teach, and will not learn." CONTENTS. CONTENTS. BOOK L The great human family speedily divided into branches . . 3*7 The surname of Clarke originated from the office of clerk . 38 The knowledge of letters not common in ancient times in Eng- land 38 Withred, king of Kent, A. D. 700, signed a charter of Liberties with the sign of the Cross, because he could not write 39 Henry the First, the only one of his family that could write . 39 Boldon Book contains a Survey of the Bishoprick of Durham, in 1183 39 Adam, the Clerk, mentioned as tenant in it ... 39 Various instances of surnames in that and Domesday, de- rived from offices and employments, .... 39 Different kinds of names among the Romans .... 40 Difference between the pranomen, nomcn, and cognomen . 40 lngenui among the Romans, the same as gentleman ainong the English 41 Family of Clarke originally English 41 Went over to Ireland in the seventeenth century, and settled in the county of Antrim 41 Matrimonial connexions 41 Hugh Stuart Boyd, allied to the family of Clarke by mar- riage, and still holds some of the estates ... 42 Short pedigree of the Clarke family .... (note) 42 Anecdote of William Clarke, great-great-grandfather of Adam Clarke (note) 42 John Clarke, the great-grandfather, has 19 children, — 18 sons and 1 daughter ('note) 42 Horseman Clarke died of hydrophobia in consequence of being spattered with the foam of a mad dog . . (note) 43 The Clarke family lost their estates, in consequence of the ab- sence of a material witness in a trial at law (note) 43 John Clarke, father of Adam, takes his degree of M. A. at Edinburgh and Glasgow 44 Enters as Sizer in Trinity College, Dublin, being intended for the church 44 His prospects in the church blighted by a premature mar- riage 45 Licensed as a public parish schoolmaster .... 45 Marries Miss Hannah Mac Lean, descended from the Mac Leans of Mull 45 Feud between the Mac Leans and Mac Donalds . . 45 Mr. John Clarke embarks for America, with the promise of a professorship in one of the new Universities there . 46 24 CONTENTS. Is prevented from sailing by his father .... ^6 Gets into difficulties in consequence of breaking up his es- tablishment 47 Settles in an obscure village in the county of Derry, called Moybeg 47 Adam, his second son, born 47 No register of the time of his birth preserved ... 47 Tracy Clarke, the eldest son, licensed by the Consistorial Court of Derry, as a parish schoolmaster .... 48 Bound apprentice to a surgeon • . 48 Goes to Dublin, and studies anatomy under Dr. Cleghorne, of Trinity College 48 Sails in a slave ship to Guinea and the West Indies . . 48 His journal destroyed by the captain of the ship . . 48 Various instances of cruelty witnessed by him during his voyage 49 Is disgusted with the horrid nature of the traffic ; abandons it, and establishes himself as a surgeon, near Liverpool, 50 Adam Clarke very hardy in his infancy 51 His uncle, the Rev. J. Mac Lean, remarkable for his strength 52 One of his aunts very diminutive 52 The district remarkable for having produced tall strong men 52 Adam gets well through the small pox by naturally adopting the cool regimen 53 His early religious impressions and conversations with a school-fellow 54 Anecdote of Dr. Barnard 55 Adam has a horror of becoming fat 55 Has his fortune told by a spae-man 55 Is a very inapt scholar 56 Prediction of a neighbouring schoolmaster concerning him 56 Unfitness of many public teachers for their employment . . 57 Adam abandons his Latin grammar in despair .... 58 Is severely reproved by the master, and taunted by his school-fellows 58 His intellect becomes suddenly enlightened, and he advances in his learning rapidly 58 Reflections upon this sudden revolution ... 59 Advice to schoolmasters ........ 59 Adam never makes any great progress in arithmetic . . 60 Depressed state of the family 60 The prices of various branches of education in Ireland at the latter end of the 18th century 60 Mr. John Clarke cultivates his farm according to the rules laid down by Virgil in his Georgics 61 Adam and his brother alternately work in the farm, and instruct each other 61 Read the Eclogues and Georgics of Virgil in the midst of scenes similar to those described in that work . . 62 Fragments of a Satire written by Adam on one of his school- fellows 62 Scholia on ditto 64 The love of reading in Adam and his brother becomes intense 64 They lay by their half-pence and pence to buy books . 64 CONTENTS. 25 A catalogue of their books """tfs Works of imagination useful to young minds .... 66 Adam reads the Pilgrim's Progress 66 His reflections as a child upon the conduct of Christian in the dungeon 66 More mature reflections G7 Becomes an enthusiastic admirer of the Trojan hero, Hec- tor, from hearing his father recite portions of the Iliad 67 Is induced to attempt to obtain a knowledge of occult philo- sophy 68 Forms an acquaintance with a company of travelling tinkers, who profess to be adepts in magic .... 68 Is deterred from pursuing his magical studies, by reading an answer to a question on that subject in the 11 Athe- nian Oracle" 69 From the reports spread in the neighbourhood of his super- natural powers, marauders are deterred from robbing his father's premises 69 Receives the first taste for Oriental literature by reading the Arabian Nights' Entertainments 70 Derives great benefit from reading the adventures of Robin- son Crusoe and iEsop's Fables 71 Manner in which the peasants of the North of Ireland spend their winters' evenings 71 Strong impression made upon the memory of the hearer by the relation of the Gaelic stories 71 Baptism of Fion ma cool, or Finga), by St. Patrick ... 72 Manners of the Irish peasantry 72 Adam's Mother, a Presbyterian of the old puritanic school . 73 Her method of reproving her children .... 73 An instance of the effect of her reproofs upon her son Adam 73 Her creed leads her to represent the Almighty rather as a God of justice than a God of mercy .... 74 She impresses on her family a great reverence for the Bible 74 Evening prayer taught by her to her children ... 75 Morning prayer and Doxology 75 Her manner of spending the Sabboth with her family . 75 Religious education of the family 76 Mode of practising sacred music in the North of Ireland . . 76 Various instances from sacred and profane history of the antiquity of this mode of singing .... 76 Not in use among the Irish Roman Catholics ... 78 An account of the Caoinian or Irish howl .... 78 A. C. learns dancing 79 Its evil effects upon him 79 His protest against this branch of education ... 80 Various projects for A. C.'s settlement in life . . . .80 Has a very narrow escape for his life in consequence of a fall from his horse 81 A. C. has another narrow escape from death by drowning . 81 Conversation with Dr. Letsom on the subject ... 82 Sensations while under water, and on coming to life . 82 A remarkable anecdote of an attempted robbery and murder . 83 Unfortunate accident hv an incautious use of fire-arms . . 86 3 Remarkable events attending the deaths of two brothers . 86 General belief in fairies in that part of Ireland ... 87 BOOK II. Summary of religion aH A. C.'s first religious instructors 88 He hears for the first time of the Methodists, through the medium of a newspaper 89 Is induced to go to hear them by the prospect of deri- ving amusement 89 Is struck by an observation of the preacher . . 90 Is induced to go to hear him again .... 90 Adam's parents approve of the Methodist doctrines . . 91 The preachers are invited to, and entertained in, their house 91 A. C. begins to feel an increasing attachment to religion . 91 True religion makes no man slothful 92 A. C. is stirred up to greater diligence in prayer, by a conversa- tion with Mr. Barber ...... 92 He is dispirited by opinions of religious friends . . 92 Determines to search the Scriptures for himself . . 93 He forms the Articles of his Creed from his own study of the Sacred Writings, without referring to any human creed or confession of faith A. C. is taken by his mother to a class-meeting Is taken notice of and encouraged by the leader His mind becomes filled with doubts An anecdote of the Caliph Aalee 95 A. C. is filled with doubts concerning the Atonement . . 95 This proceeds so far that he conceives himself guilty of idolatry by praying in the name of Christ . . 96 Is delivered from this state of mind by earnest prayer . 96 From his own feelings on this subject, he always thought it his duty to caution others against the Arian and Soci- nian errors 96 A. C, from his own experience on this occasion, forms his opinion of the spurious doctrine of the Eternal Son- ship of Christ 96 Arguments against this doctrine ... 97 Danger of young converts mingling with persons who are fond of doubtful disputations 97 A. C.'s mental sufferings from the temporary perversion of bis creed 97 He has a strong desire to receive the Sacrament for the first time 98 His preparations for that solemn ordinance . . 99 The clergyman much affected while giving him the bread 99 A. C.'s feelings during the ordinance, and his opinion of the nature of this Sacrament 100 Advice to communicants 100 A. C. undergoes great spiritual anguish 101 Reflections on this 101 Finds peace with God 102 Converses with Mr. Barber on the subject .... 102 C0NTENT9. ZJ rap Receives the witness of the Spirit, and a clear evidence of his acceptance with God 103 Extract of a Sermon preached by him, on this subject, seven years after, at Plymouth .... 104 Reflections on the nature and uses of religion .... 106 A. C. finds his mind enlightened and more adapted to receive instruction through his increase in spiritual knowledge 106 Acquires a taste for Natural Philosophy, by theperusal of " Derham's Astro-theology," and " Ray's Wisdom of God in the Creation" 107 The Dictionaries of John Kefsey and Benjamin Martin of great use to him 108 Two of his sisters join the Methodists .... 109 He is the means of the conversion of one of his school- fellows 109 Account of Andrew Coleman 109 His wonderful progress in learning 110 Straitened circumstances 110 An intimate friendship formed between him and A. C. . 110 He is employed as a class-leader Ill Sent out as a travelling preacher Ill Dies at the age of eighteen of a consumption . . . Ill A. C.'s reflections on his death Ill Instances of Andrew Coleman's extraordinary memory . .112 Adam Clarke begins to exhort in the neighbouring villages . 112 His method of procedure in such cases .... 113 Sometimes preaches in nine or ten villages in one day . 113 Turns his attention to mathematics . . . .113 His profits in Gnomonics 113 Makes considerable exertions to obtain a knowledge of the French language 114 Occasionally amuses himself with attempts at poetry . 114 A. C. is placed on trial, prior to being apprenticed with Mr. Francis Bennet, a linen merchant . . . .114 All his religious friends averse to this arrangement . .114 Mr. John Bredin writes to Mr. Wesley concerning him . 115 Mr. Wesley offers to take him into Kmgswood School . 115 His parents receive the proposal with indignation . . 115 Mr. Bennet offers to set him up in business as an Irish pro- vision merchant 115 He meets with many judicious and religious friends at Coleraine 116 He derives much spiritual benefit from the perusal of " Bax- ter's Saints' Everlasting Rest," and the " Journal of David Brainard" 116 He attracts the notice of Mr. Rutherford and other preachers 116 He is unpleasantly situated in Mr. Bennet's family, owing to a termagant of a servant 117 And a sick relative 118 His method of reproving sin 118 An extract from his Journal 119 Much temptation, as well as prayer and reading, necessary to form a Christian minister 119 A. C. becomes so exceedingly cautious in his conversation, that 28 CONTENTS. at last he doubts the most evident facts, and hesitates at trusting the evidence of his senses .... 120 He brings himself down to the edge of the grave by fast- ing and self-denial 120 His memory becomes affected 120 He is filled with distressing doubts 121 His opinion that he was permitted to undergo all these trials in order to qualify trim for the ministerial office 121 In after-life no case of conscience could come before him in which he was%iot qualified to judge from his own experience of the state .... 121 His deliverance from this state of misery . . . 122 The means he used to strengthen his memory . . . 122 His imperfect memory of use to him as a preacher . . 123 He is obliged in the pulpit to trust to judgment rather than recollection 123 This renders his mode of preaching new and effective 124 BOOK III. Advice to young ministers 125 Different ranks in the primitive church 125 A. C.'s great reluctance to commence regular preacher . . 125 His first sermon . . 126 He is encouraged by the approbation of his congregations 126 Prepares to leave Ireland 127 Gets a certificate from the Rector of the parish . . 127 Is ordered over to Kingswood School .... 127 Strong objections of his parents to this measure . 127 His Mother becomes persuaded that God has called her son to the Ministry, and brings over his Father to consent to the voyage to England 128 A. C. embarks at Londonderry and sails for Liverpool . . 128 Occurrences during the voyage 129 The ship is visited by a press-gang .... 130 A. C.'s reflections upon this unconstitutional method of manning the Royal Navy 130 A. C. is taken by the captain of the packet to his house 130 His conversation there with a Scotch lady . . 131 And a Roman Catholic 131 He takes his place by the Fly for Birmingham 132 Company on the road 133 Danger of quoting Heathen authors as evidences in favour of Christianity 134 Equal danger in quoting the Fathers in proof of the doctrines of the Gospel 134 Is kindly received at Birmingham 134 Has his expectations of Kingswood School considerably lessened 135 His arrival at Bristol 136 Occurrences at the inn in Bristol 136 Sets off for Kingswood with three half-pence in his pocket 136 His Unfeeling reception there 136 CONTENTS. 29 His usage there K?» Instances of the tyranny of the mistress . . . 139 A. C.'s first introduction to Mr. Rankin 139 Character of Mr. Rankin 140 A. C.'s intercourse with him in after life .... 140 A description of Kingswood School in the year 1782 . . 140 Domestic establishment there 141 Characters of the teachers ...... 141 Mr. Wesley's declared opinion of this School in the year 1783 141 Reasons of the disorganization of the School . . 142 The School much improved of late years . . . 142 A. C. finds a half-guinea while digging in the garden . . 143 He is thus enabled to purchase a Hebrew grammar . . 144 This apparently trifling occurrence lays the foundation'of all his knowledge of the Sacred Writings in the Old Testament 144 His first introduction to Mr. Wesley .... 144 A. C. is ordained by Mr. Wesley, and sent to Bradford, in Wiltshire 144 Hears Mr. Wesley preach 144 Meets with Mr. Charles Wesley 145 The reason why A. C.'s name does not appear in the Minutes of the Methodist Conference the first year of his be- coming a travelling preacher 145 A. C.'s situation becomes much improved by the arrival of Mr. Wesley 145 Farther instances of tyranny in the mistress of Kingswood School ... 146 A. C. is confirmed by the bishop of Bristol . . . 146 His feelings on leaving Kingswood School . . 147 He is very young when sent out to preach, and from his youthful appearance is generally called the little boy . 147 His qualifications as a preacher ..... 147 His Creed 148 Reflections on the Articles of his Creed . . . 152 Reflections on the tenth Article, relative to the Eternal Sonship 152 BOOK IV. Extent of the Bradford (Wilts) Circuit in 1782 . . .153 Great extent of circuit favourable to a young preacher . . 153 A. C. is fearful that his youth may hinder his usefulness as a preacher 153 Is pleasingly disappointed in this respect .... 153 An anecdote of his preaching at Road .... 154 God blesses his ministry in all parts of the circuit . . 155 A. C. commences the study of the Hebrew language . . 156 A critique upon Bayley's Hebrew grammar .... 156 A. C.'s method of studying 156 Reads through four volumes of Mr. Wesley's History of the Church, while riding on horseback to attend his various appointments 156 3* 90 CONTENTS. Has his studies put a stop to for a time by the injudicious interference of a brother preacher .... 157 Makes a vow to jive up all learning . . . . 157 Is encourage/I in this resolution by the preacher before alluded to 158 The sinful nature of such a vow 15S The manner in which Mr. C. was led to view it in its pro- per light 158 A quotation from a Sermon of Bridaine 158 Mr. Wesley encourages Mr. C. to resume his studies . . 159 A. C. finds that, after four years' loss of time, it is no easy thing to resume his studies with profit to himself . . 160 The assertion, that the Methodists as a body undervalue learn- ing, not a correct one 160 Mr. C. gives up the use of tea and coffee in consequence of read- ing a pamphlet written on the subject by Mr. "Wesley 161 Saves several years of time, during his life, by thus giving up tea-parties ; 161 He is summoned to the Bristol Conference in 1783 . . 161 Extracts from his Journal 161 He is admitted into Full Connexion, after travelling only eleven months 16" His reflections on this occasion 16* His whimsical dilemma upon his examination . . 163 He is appointed to the Norwich Circuit, August, 1783 163 His ministerial exertions during the preceding ten months 163 Mr. C.'s personal experience during the same period . j 163 His reasons for not wishing to preserve his Journal . . 164 Extent of the Norwich Circuit in the year 1783 . . .164 The names and characters of the preachers in that Circuit 165 The Circuit very low as regarded numbers and religion . 165 The manner of providing for the preachers in Norwich . . 166 Ludicrous anecdote 166 Anecdote of a clergyman 16' Mr. C.'s mechanical contrivances 167 He literally obeys the advice given to preachers when ad- mitted into the Methodist Connexion . . . .16 He undergoes great hardships in his Circuit during the winter of 1783 — 4 168 His expedients to preserve himself from the cold . . 168 Luxuries of primitive Methodism 168 Extracts from Mr. C.'s Journal 170 Mr. C. hears Mr. Wesley preach eight sermons, of which he preserves the texts 171 The people of Norfolk much addicted to Sabbath-breaking . 171 An anecdote of a Norfolk miller . ... 172 Ditto of Mr. John Hampson and Mr. Wesley . . 17° Ditto of Mr. George Holder 173 An extract from Mr. C.'s Journal concerning the Swedenborgian doctrine of " no persons" in the Trinity . . .17' A sabbath-breaker shot 175 More extracts from the Journal 175 Mr. C.'s prejudice against female preachers .... 176 He hears Miss Sewell preach . ... 176 CONTENTS. H His sentiments in some measure altered .... 1^6 Reflections in his Journal on female preaching . . . 176 He is appointed to the St. Austell Circuit .... 177 Has a guinea, sent him to defray his travelling expenses during a journey of 400 miles 178 His journey from Norfolk to Cornwall .... 178 Extent of the St. Austell circuit in the year 1784 . . . 179 Great revival of religion there 179 Several persons, distinguished for their abilities, join the Society 179 Character of Mr. Samuel Drew 179 Mr. C. goes to preach at a place called Trego . 179 Is not permitted to preach, and is turned out at night . . 180 His behaviour on this occasion 181 He nearly loses his life by the falling of his horse . . 182 Does not recover from the ill effects of his fall for more than three years 182 Extracts from Mr. C.'s Journal 182 Description of a remarkable meteor 183 State of religion in the St. Austell circuit .... 183 Mr. C. injures his health by his exertions .... 183 He preaches 5G8 sermons, besides giving numerous exhor- tations, and travelling some nundreds of miles, in eleven months . 184 He turns his attention to chemistry 184 He works at the. furnace himself in order to understand the various .Scriptural allusions to the refining of silver . 184 Reads the alcheniistic writers, and goes through several of the initiatory operations 184 Forms an intimate friendship with Mr. Richard Mabyn, of Camelford" ... 184 He is appointed to the Plymouth Dock circuit . . . 185 Extent of the circuit in 1785 ... . 185 The Society is doubled during the year of Mr. C.'s mi- nistry 186 He obtains the loan of Chambers's Encyclopaedia . . 186 His high opinion of that work 186 Suggestions for the improvement of it . . . . 187 Purchases Leigh's Critica Sacra 187 Has a copy of Dr. Kennicott's Hebrew Bible lent him by Miss Kennicott ; this work first directs his attention to Biblical Criticism . . . - . . . . 187 His unpleasant situation with a choir of singers . . 188 His opinion of choirs of singers as forming part of reli- gious worship 188 An account of Mr. Mason 189 A remarkable anecdote, illustrating the effect of quack medi- cines 191 Dangerous nature of these nostrums 192 Mr. C.'s appointment to the Normnn Isles .... 192 He prepares to go to Jersey 192 His first acquaintance with the family of Cooke . . 193 Becomes attached to Miss Mary Coolce, afterwards Mrs. Clarke . . 193 32 CONTENTS. Page Reflections, extracted from his Journal, chiefly written during visits to Winchester Cathedral 193 On Earthly Glory 194 Remarkable Epitaph on two brothers of the name of Clerk 194 Reasons for the slow progress of Revelation . . . 195 On Conscience 196 Are Natural Evils the effect of Inevitable Necessity . . 199 Mr. C.'s opinion of the common practice of publishing after their death, Letters written by eminent men . . 200 Injury done to the memory of Pope and Swift by this practice 200 Injury done to the character of the late Mr. Fletcher, of Madeley, by ill judging friends 200 A description of the Norman Isles 201 Mr. C. commences preaching there 201 He begins de novo with Greek and Latin . . . 201 Takes up the Septuagint 201 His opinion of this Version .... 202 Notes the most important differences between this Version and the Hebrew Text . . . 202 Derives much assistance from the Public Library at St. Hellier's 202 Here he first meets with a copy of the Polyglott 203 Dean Prideaux's Connexions gives him an accurate , view of the Targums of Onkelos and Jona- than Ben Uzziel 203 Reads Walton's Intro Audio ad Linguas Orientales, and the Schola Syriaca of Professor Leusden 203 Devotes all his leisure time to the reading and collating the original Texts in the Polyglott, particu- larly the Hebrew, Samaritan, Chaldee, Sy- riac, Vulgate, and Septuagint . . . 203 Obtains a Polyglott of his own 204 His reflections on this occasion .... 204 Mr. Wesley, accompanied by Dr. Coke and Mr. Bradford, visits the Norman Isles 204 They leave the Islands for Penzance .... 205 Occurrences on the voyage ..... 205 Mr. C.'s opinion of Mr. Wesley 206 Character of Miss Cooke, afterwards Mrs. Clarke . . . 206 The connexion between her and Mr. C. opposed by her friends 207 Mr. Wesley is induced, by false representations, to oppose their marriage . 207 Afterwards, on finding out his error, becomes a me- diator 207 Mr. C. and Miss Cooke are married, April 17, 1788 . . 207 The union a happy one 207 Other marriages in that family 207 Mr. C. is attacked by a mob, while preaching at La Valle in Guernsey . . .208 He has another narrow escape for his life from a mob at St. Aubin's, in the Island of Jersey . . .208 The mob nearly destroy the preaching-house . . 209 CONTENTS. 33 Dr. C.'s account of this transaction, in his Comment on Luke iv. 20 (note) 209 Mr. C. goes, the following Sabbath, to the same place to preach '210 la again attacked by the mob 210 His address to them . . . . . . . . 210 Is taken under their protection, and never again molested by them 211 The mob being ashamed of their conduct, and having given up persecution, a magistrate opposes him . . .211 He nearly loses his life from the effects of intense cold . 212 Is preserved by the presence of mind of his companion 212 A similar instance occurred to Dr. Solander and Sir Joseph Banks 212 Mr. C. has, in after years, the opportunity of serving his preserver 213 M\: C.'s first visit to the Isle of Alderney .... 213 Threatened opposition of the Governor .... 214 Lands in the Island, and preaches at a poor cottage . . 215 Is, after a short interval, called upon to preach again before one of the justices 215 Preaches on the following Sabbath at the English church . 216 Meets with no opposition from the authorities, and is well received of all 210 Is obliged to be his own cook during his stay in the island 217 Proofs of the fertility of the Norman Isles . . . .218 Mr. C.'s removal to the Bristol circuit, in 1789 .... 218 His health much injured by his continual exertions . 218 Mr. Wesley's last Conference, at Bristol, in 1790 . . . 219 Rule made there that no preacher should preach three times during the same day 219 Difference between preaching a sermon and uttering one 219 Mr. C. appointed to the Dublin circuit, 1790 . . . .220 Is laid up with a rheumatic affection, in consequence of re- siding in a newly finished damp house' . . . 220 Disputes in the Dublin Circuit concerning the introduction of the Liturgy into the Methodists' Chapel .... 221 Mr. C. gives his voice against the use of the Liturgy in the Me- thodists' Chapel 221 His reasons for opposing the introduction of the Liturgy . 221 Sees his mistake in after life 222 Death of Mr. Wesley 222 A letter from Dr. Barnard, Bishop of Killaloe, to Mr. Clarke (note) .222 Mr. C. appointed one of his six trustees by Mr. Wesley's will 222 Enters himself at Trinity College, Dublin . . .223 Studies under Drs. Dickinson, Cleghorn, and R. Pereival 223 Establishes the Strangers' Friend Society, in Dublin, Man- chester, and London ....... 223 He removes to Manchester, 1791 223 Obliged to have recourse to the Buxton waters for the re- covery of his health 224 Commencement of the French Revolution . . 224 Mr. C.'s colleagues take opposite sides on this question . 224 34 CONTENTS. Ministers of the Gospel have nothing to do with politics . . 22*5 Conclusion of Dr. Clarke's own Narrative . 225 APPENDIX. Mr. Clarke becomes acquainted with a Turkish officer of Ja- nissaries 229 Ibrahim Ben Ali is baptized . .... 230 His birth and first impressions relative to Christianity 230 Marries his first wife at the age of thirteen . 230 Marries his second and third wives .... 231 He is taken up, on suspicion, for the murder of two of his comrades 231 The real murderers discovered . . . 232 He is taken prisoner in Wallachia, by the Russians . 233 Accused at Constantinople of being a Christian . . 233 His parents, wives, and children, butchered at Ismail, by the Russians 233 .His death 234 LETTERS, from Mr. Clarke to Miss Mary Cooke, afterwards Mrs. Clarke 235 THE LIFE OF ADAM CLARKE, LL.D., ETC., ETC., ETC. THE LIFE OP ADAM CLARKE, LL,D,, ETC., ETC., ETC, BOOK I f Man may be considered as having a twofold origin— natural, which is common and the same to all — patronymic, which belongs to the various families of which the whole human race is composed. This is no arbitrary distinction; it has existed from the commencement of the world; for although God has made of one blood all the nations of men to dicell on the face of the whole earth, so that all the inhabitants of the world have sprung horn one original pair; yet, this family became speedily divided into branches, less or more famous or infamous, as the progenitor was good or bad : or, in other words, pious, wise, and useful ; or, profligate, oppressive, and cruel. This distinction existed even in the family of Adam, as we may see in the lives of Cain, and Seth : the posterity of the former being uniformly marked as wicked and cruel, and even apostates from the true God ; while the posterity of the latter were equally remarkable for all the social and moral virtues, and were the preservers, as well as the patterns, of pure and undefiled religion. This patronymic distinction is not less evident in the great Abrahamic family, — in the descendants of Ishmael and Isaac ; from the former of whom sprang the various tribes of Idumeans and Arabs, whose history occupies so large a part of the annals of the human race; and from the latter, all the Jewish tribes, and that singular family continued, by a chain of the most re- markable and miraculous providences, from which came Jesus ;he Messiah, the Almighty Saviour of the human race. To trace this any farther would be foreign to my design ; as 38 THE LIFE OF ADAM CLARKE. it has only been introduced as an apology for the slight notice that shall be taken of the family from which the subject of the present Memoir has derived his origin. Whether the family of the Clarkes were of Norman extrac- tion cannot be easily ascertained. If it even were so, it is pretty evident that it did not come in with William the Con- queror ; as no such name exists in any copy of the Boll of Battle Abbey, (several of which have been searched for this purpose,) on which roll was entered all the names of the nobi- lity and distinguished families that accompanied William in his first expedition ; or who afterwards came over and settled in England. It is well known that clericus was originally the name of an office, and signified the clerk or learned man, who in primitive times, was the only person in his district who could write and redd, or had taken pains to cultivate his mind in such literature as the times afforded, and ; from his knowledge and skill, could be useful to his fellow citizens ; and who, in con- sequence, did not fail to accumulate respectable property, which was maintained and increased in the family ; one of the descendants, generally the eldest son, being brought up to literature, and thus succeeding to the office of his father, and the emolument of that office. This title, in process of time, became the surname of the person who bore the office ; and clericus, le clerc, the clerk, and afterwards Clarke, became the cognomen, or surname, by which all the descendants of the family were distinguished. As those persons who were designed for ecclesiastical functions generally got an educa- tion superior to the rest of the community, hence they were termed clerici, clerks ; and this is the legal title by which every clergyman is distinguished to the present day. It has been intimated that the term clericus, the clerk, was originally given to the person who was the only one in his insinuation in the nineteenth century, when every child among the millions in England can read ; and almost eveTy grown up person can write. But it was not so in ancient times : can the reader believe that that there was a period when some of our own British kings could not write their own name ! It is nevertheless a fact. About A. D. 700, Withred was king of Kent. He issued an ordinance, or Charter of Liberties, freeing all the churches under his dominion from tribute and taxation. This charter is found in the Archives of the Cathedral of Canterbury, and is published by Wilkins in his Concilia, vol. i. p. 63, and concludes in this remarkable manner: — This may seem a strange THE LIFE OF ADAM CLARKE. 39 " Actum die sexto April is, anno regni nostri octavo: In- dictione duodecimo, in loco qui appellator Cilling. " Ego Wythredus, rex Cantia>, ha-c omnia supra scripta et confirmavi, atque a me diclata ; propria maim signum sanc- tce crucis, pro ignorantia literarum express! " Done the sixth day of April, [A. D. 700,] in the eighth year of our reign : Induction xii., in the place called Killing. "I Withred, king of Kent, have confirmed the above liber- ties, dictated by myself; and because I am unlearned, [i. e. cannot write,] I have, with my own hand, signed this with the sign of the holy cross "f"." This was not only a common case in those times, but in times later by some centuries. Many of the ancient charters are signed with crosses, and this was often because those who subscribed could not write. It is doubtful whether William the Conqueror, or any of his sons, except Henry, could write. The foundation charter of Battle Abbey has thirteen signa- tures to it : they are all crosses, each different, and all the names are written by the same scribe, but each cross is made by the person to whose name it is affixed : through a kind of complaisance, those who cculd write signed with a cross, to keep the king and nobles in countenance. Of this ignorance it would be easy to multiply instances. In an ancient record, called the Boldon Boole, which con- tains a census and survey of the whole bishoprick and pala- tinate of Durham, after the manner of Domesday Book, made by Bishop Hugh de Puteaco, or Piulsey, A. D. 1183, we find many proofs of men being distinguished by their offices, trades, &c, and the following instance is remarkable : among many other persons who held lands in the township of Wol- syngam in that county, and who performed certain services to the lord for the lands they held, according to the ancient feudal system ; we find the following entry : — Adamus Clericus, tenet triginta acras, et reddit unam marcam. " Adam the Clerk, (or Adam Clarke,) holds thirty acres of land, for which he pays annually one mark." Others plough and harrow, that is, employ so many days in ploughing and harrowing the bishop's lands, in the way of boon or annual rent. That the term is used as the name of an office here, is suffi- ciently evident from the names of office frequently occurring joined to the Christian names, to distinguish the persons who held those offices : e. g. : — Alanus Fcllo, tenet unum toftum et croftum pro duobus solidis, et facit quatuor porcationes autumpno. " Allen the Fuller, holds one toft and one croft, for two shillings, and makes four porcations in autumn." . Aldredus Fader, xii. acr. et red. Hi. sol. "Aldred the Smith, holds twelve acres, for which he pays three shillings." THE LIFE Or ADAM CLARKL. Arnaldus Pistor, habet Cornesheved in excamb. de Fril- lesden, et red. xxiiii. sol. " Arnold the Baker, has Corn- sheved in exchange for Frillesden, and renders twenty-four shillings." fralterus Molendinarius, tenet it. bov. et red. x. sol. d-e jirrrt. et ii. sol. pro operal. suis. " Walter the Miller, hold? two bovates of land, for which he pays ten shillings, and gives two shillings as a compensation for services." Hugo Punder, reddit pro unam acram xii. d. et unam toft.devasto. "Hugh the Pinder, (the man who keeps the pound or pinfold,) holds one acre, for which he gives one shil- ling: he has also one toft of common." Ferrarius the Smith ; Carpcntarius the Carpenter ; Pis^ carius the Fisher ; Firmarius the Farmer ; Gardinarius the Gardener, &c. &c. ; which were all names of office, became at last the surnames of whole fam ilies, throughout all their generations. See Domesday and Boldon Books, passim, The name of the father's office might easily be transferred to all his children, though not employed in the same business $ as Johannes Jilius Adami Clerici, " John the son of Adam the Clerk," would in a very few generations be, " John Clarke the son of Adam Clarke," &c. Thus it may be conceived all swr- names originally rose which express office, trade, &c. as But- ler, Baker, Chamberlain, Carpenter, Carter, Cook, Smith, Merchant, Draper, Roper, Soaper, Fisher, Fowler, Foster i Slater, Farmer, Miller, Fuller, Taylor, Poynder, &c. i While others derived theirs from the places where they were born, or the estate which they held ; as, Applelon, Abingdon^ Aubigny, Castleton, Cheshire, Cornish, &c. Family distinctions were probably, at first, fortuitously ac- quired: so, the first Clarke might have been a self-taught genius ; his love of literature and the profit he had acquired by it, would naturally excite him to bring up a child in the same way ; and emulation would induce others of the same name to continue a distinction, by which the family had acquired both honour and profit. Hence we find that this ancient family has been distinguished for many learned men ; and by several who have acquired no ordinary fame in all the walks of the republic of literature. While on this subject the reader's in- dulgence is requested a little longer. The ancient history of the Romans, will cast some light oil this subject of stirnam.es. The Roman names are divided into four kinds. 1. Those of the Ingenui, or free-born. 2. Those of the Liberti, or freed-men ; and those of the Servi, or slaves. 3. The names of women. And, 4. the names of adopted persons. The Ingenui had three names. 1. The pr^nomen, which they assumed when they put on the toga viritis, or manly gown: this answers to our Christian name. These pramo* THE LIFE OF ADAM CLARKE. 41 mina were usually signified by initial letters, as is frequently the case among us: thus A. signified Aulus : C. Cants; D. Decius: K. Ca?so: L. Lucius: M. Marcius, and Marcus: N. Numerius: P. Publius: Q. Quintus: T. 7'i7«s: &c. Sometimes this was signified by double and treble letters, thus: AP. Appius: CN. Cneius : SP. Spurius: TI. Tiberius: MAM. Ma m crcus : SER. Sarcitis: SEX. Sextus: &c. 2. The nomen, which immediately followed the prtenomen, answering to the Grecian patronymic, or family name, ending mostly in ius: as Julius, Tullius, i. e. of Julius, of Tullius. Such a person of the Julian Jamil;/, of the Tullian family, &c. 3. The cognomen, which was added for the distinction of families ; and was usually derived from some country, acci- dent, or particular occurrence, and this divided the family into branches: as Agrippa, Ccesar, Cicero, &c. A fourth name was sometimes added, called agnomen, which was given as a title of honor: as Cato was termed Sapiens, the wise; Crassus, Dives, the rich; and hence came the Africani, Asi- atici, Macedonici, &c. But these by some of the best writers are termed cognomina, and therefore the distinction is not necessary ; agnomen and cognomen may be considered as implying the same, for they are indifferently used. The ingenui were the same among the Romans as gentle- men among us ; and they define them thus : — Qui inter se eo- dem sunt nomine, ab ingenuis oriundi, quorum majorum nemo scrvitutem servivit, et qui Capite diminuti non sunt. " Those who have a certain family name, were born of free- men, whose ancestors were never in servitude, and who have never been degraded from their kindred or ancient stock." Though it has not been found that any branch of the family of the Clarkes claimed nobility, yet it has always appeared that the character of gentility, — generosi, or ingenui, — has been conceded to them, and to them 'he Roman definition of ingenui, is in every respect applicable. They came from a pure and ancient stock, they had never been in bondage to any man, had never been legally disgraced, and never forfeited their character. In this family I have often heard the inno- cent boast, None of our family has ever served the stranger. The family was originally English, but from what branch of the family, or from what county in England the subject of this Memoir descended, has not been satisfactorily deduced. The family tradition is, that they went over to Ireland in the 17th century, and had part of what were called the Debenture Lands, and settled in the county of Antrim, about Larne. Glenarm, and Grange, where they had considerable estates. They became matrimonially connected with the Higgisons, Strawbridges, Courtenays, and Bnyds ; the latter of whom deduce their origin in uninterrupted descent from the cele- Family or the clarkls. brated Boyds of Kilmarnock in Scotland : some of the BoycU, in virtue of the above alliance, still possess a considerable landed property in the above country. Some of the Mac Al- leys married into this family, but changed their names to Boyd, in order to inherit the paternal estates. One of these, the late Hugh Mac Auley Boyd, Esq., sent in 1784, ambassa- dor to the Court of Candy, by Lord Macartney, Governor General of India, (reputed by some as the author of that still celebrated political work, called the Letters of Junius,) has left a son, Hugh Stuart Boyd, who is equal in elegant ac- complishments to his father, and his superior in classic at- tainments ; and especially in his profound knowledge of the Greek language, and the most illustrious writers of antiquity. He possesses a part of these estates, extending to, and com- prehending Red Bay near Glenann.* * The following two letters from Dr. Clarke, dated Dublin, June 15, and 26, 1823, will throw some more light upon the subject of the Clarke family. I came in here last night, after a hard journey of several days : from Glasgow to Belfast we were twenty-three hours and a half, in which we encountered a violent storm, and had the wind right a-head the whole passage. I went to see my aunt M' Ready, which took me one hundred miles out of my way, and at very considerable expense. However, I knew it must be the last opportunity I could ever have of seeing her, and making the inquiries you wished. I found her in com- paratively good healthj and all her faculties as sound as a bclL I set about the inquiries ; and the following is the result. My father John Clarke, was son to William Clarke, who was feon to John Clarke, who was son to William Clarke. She can go ho higher ; and this is to my grcai-greci-grandfather. Now for par- ticulars. 1. My great-great-grandfather William Clarke, was an estated gentleman of Grange, in the county of Antrim, and was appointed in 1690 to receive the Prince of Orange, when he came to Carrickfergus. He had received the principles of George Fox, and, as he could not Uncover his head to any man, before he came near to the prince, he took off his hat and laid it on a stone by the wayside, and walked for- ward. When he met the prince, he accosted him thus: "William, thou art welcome to this kingdom." — " I thank you, sir," replied the prince; and the interview was so satisfactory to the prince, that he said, " You are, sir, the best bred gentleman I have ever met." 2. John, my greatgrandfather, the son of William the Quaker, married Miss Amic Horseman, daughter to Horseman, mayor of Carrickfergus, whose, son succeeded to the mayoralty thirty years afterwards. Of the year in which Mr. Horseman, the father, who married Miss Anne Clarke, was mayor, she cannot tell ; but this may be easily ascertained by searching the records of that city and fortress. To John, my great-grandfather, and Miss Horseman, were born eighteen sons and one daughter. The daughter, Sarah, was mar- ried to a Mr. Williamson, of the county Antrim ; — I suppose an es- tated gentleman, but she does not recollect to have heard any particu- lars of him or his family. FAMILY OF THE CLARKES. 43 William, the grandfather of Adam Clarke, married into the Boyd family ; he was an intelligent religious man, a builder by trade, and the eldest of six brothers, who chiefly settled in the vicinity of Maghera, Magherafelt, and near the borders of the beautitul lake of Lough Neagh. The youngest of these Of the eighteen sons of John, and Anne Horseman, she remembers only nine. They are the following: 1. Samuel Clarke, of Gulladuff, (his own estate.) who married Miss M'Peakc, who had issue John and Thomas, of the same place, and several daugliters. 2. Anthony Clarke, of Ballyruff, (his own estate,) who had issue Anthony, who had issue. 3. Joseph Clarke, who chose a military life, and was killed with General Wolfe, at the battle of Quebec ; he had issue John ; farther unknown. 4. Robert Clarke, of Ballyruff, (his own estate,) who had married Miss Burnet, and had issue Alexander, &c. &c. 5. Walter Clarke, of Ballyruff, who had several daughters, of whom I have no particulars. 6. John Clarke, a farmer, of whom I find nothing. 7. Richard Clarke, captain of a ship, and died in the Bloody Islands. Query — which were they 1 8. Horseman Clarke. He and several others having pursued a mad dog, and killed him, one of the company, in sport, took the dog by the legs and hit some of the others with him, among the rest Horseman, against whose neck some of the foam was spattered, and he died of hydrophobia in three days ; as he was a young lad, he was not usually counted in the number of the sons, who were called the " seventeen sons," because so many grew up to man's estate. 9. William Clarke, my grandfather, who married Miss Boyd, and who had issue John, my father, Archibald, William, and Adam, after whom I was named, and who, as I found now on his stone in Kilchro- naghan church, " died in August, 1756." There were two daughters, Anne, who married Mr. Wollock M'Kracken; and Mary, who mar- ried Mr. Alexander M' Ready. Archibald Boyd, my great great maternal grandfather,was a Presby- terian clergyman, and the first who preached as Protestant, in Maghera, after the Revolution in 1688. He married Miss Catharine Straw- bridge, a Scotch lady. Mr. Boyd's sister, married the Rev. Mr. Hig- gison, rector of I^arne, in whose family that rectory still continues. Of the rest of this family I think you have Adam Boyd's own account. The above are all the particulars I could gain from this interview, and I think all the leading ones that can be obtained ; and we were all surprised at the amazing accuracy and precision of my aunt's me- mory, she did not falter in the least ; and still gave the same account in the same words. Dublin, June 26, 1823. Since I wrote the enclosed letter, which was early this morning, I have received yours of the 19th. From the state of the country you will see that I can make no more excursions ; and therefore, I suppose all farther communications from my aunt must be given up. It is well that we have saved so much ; I can tell you that " Gabriel, or, as 14 FAMILY OF THE CLARKES. brothers chose a military life, and was slain with his general, the celebrated Wolfe, at the battle of Quebec, Oct. 18, A. D. 1759. John, the eldest son of William, and father of Adam, was intended by his father for the Church, and in consequence got a good classical education, which having finished, he studied successively at Edinburgh and Glasgow, where he proceeded M. A., and afterwards entered as a Sizer in Trinity College, Dublin j at a time when classical merit alone could gain such an admission. His stay here was but short ; a severe fever, he is called in the family, Geby Clarke, was one of our ancestors, and lost the Grange Estates, by the absence of one witness, who was the only one who could attest a certain marriage." This information I had accidentally from a woman in Belfast, who saw me standing at the coach-office door, waiting for the clerk, in order to take my place for Dublin. She came up to me and told mc she was one of my rela- tives, mentioned Samson Clarke of Belfast, who I believe was her father or uncle; and mentioned Geby, as being famous in the family. I might have had much from this woman, but- not knowing her, and it being in the street, I did not encourage her to talk ; I know not who she is : but I knew Samson Clarke of Belfast, he has been dead only about 10 years. I send you the minutes which Mary took while Aunt and I were conversing : there I find Samuel marked as the eldest of my granduncles, but whether older than William his brother, and my grandfather, I do not know — I always thought my grandfather Clarke the oldest. I believe all the others come in, in the order mentioned by Mary and myself; but I know my aunt expressed herself uncertain concerning the priority of some of them. So far as I can find, the estates at Grange, were lost to our family, in consequence of the failure of a proof of marriage, in Gebv's case ; from which I am led to think, that those estates came by marriage, and that they were not inheritances of the Clarke family : but there were several other estates, besides those, and there are some now, in the hands of some of my granduncles' sons. If one had about a fortnight or a month to ride about the countries I have been in, he might make more out; but every branch of the family, knowing that they are wrongfully kept out of their estates, are full of jealousy, when you make any of those inquiries, thinking that you are about to possess yourself of their property ! On this very ground, I have been very cautious in all my inquiries. I think I have heard of a Christopher, I am sure of a Bartlerny in the family, and Gabriel. I do not recollect to have heard of a Francis or Silvester, but doubtless my aunt could tell. I will send the questions to cousin Attic, and let him get me what information he can, but little can be had but on the spot, and I scarcely know how to get a letter direct to him, it is such an out of the way place. I asked my aunt particularly, if she knew any one before William the Quaker ; she said she did not, so he is the utmost a priori, and she herself is the hindmost a poste- riori, except our own family. About coming origindStfy frthn Eng- land, and receiving some of the. Debenture Lands, I have heard my father often speak, but I know no circumstances. Tomorrow I begin the Conference, and shall have no moment till it be concluded ; and then I must march back. FAMILY OF THE CLARKE3. 4a and afterwards a premature marriage, terminated his studies, and blasted his prospects in the Church : and, although the latter step put him in possession of a woman, who made him one of the best and most affectionate of wives, yet an increase of family, and the uncertainty of any adequate ecclesiastical provision, caused him to adopt the creditable though gainless profession of a public parish schoolmaster ; to which he was regularly licensed, according to the custom that then prevai - ed, in order to ensure a Protestant education to the youth cx' the country, and prevent the spread of Popish principles. By virtue of such license, all teachers in the parish had their nomination from the master; and without such could not legally perform the function of public teachers. Before I proceed in this narrative, it may be necessary to state that Mrs. Clarke, was a descendant of the Mac Leans, of Mull s one of the Hebrides, or western isles of Scotland : and her great grandfather Laughlin More Mac Lean, called by others Neil, who was chief of his Clan and Laird of Dowart, lost his life, as did twenty of his nearest relatives and his own Son, in a battle with the clan Mac Donald, in September, 1598. But their deaths were shortly after revenged by Eachin, or Hector Oig, his son and successor; who in a pitched battle defeated the Mac Donalds, and thus terminated all feuds be- tween these two clans.* Shortly after Mr. John Clarke's marriage, a circumstance oc- curred which had an embarrassing effect upon himself and family during his life. About the year 1758 or 1759, the rage of emigration to America was very prevalent in Ireland. Heavy taxation, oppressive landlords, and the small encourage- ment held out either to genius or industry, rendered Ireland, though perhaps on the whole, one of the finest islands in the Universe, no eligible place for men of talents of any kind, howsoever directed and applied, to hope for an adequate pro- vision or decent independence for a rising family. America, thin in her population and extensive in her terri- tory, held out promises of easily acquired property, immense gains by commerce, and lures of every description, to induce the ill provided for, and dissatisfied inhabitants of the mother country to carry their persons and property thither, that by their activity and industry they might enrich this rising and even then ambitious state. Mr. Clarke was persuaded among many others to indulge these golden hopes, with the expecta- * In the Diary of Robert Birrel, this feud is thus mentioned: " About vis tyme," (between Aug. 3, and Oct. 23, 1598,) " Neil M'Lane slaine, and twentie of lies narrest freindis, and hes awen sone be M'Connel, yai being; at ane tryst under trust." That is, they had engaged under a particular penalty to fight this battle. See Frag- ments of Scottish History, Edinb. 1798, 4to. p. 47, of the above men- tioned Diary. 4b' FAMILY OF THE CLARKE3. tion, if not the promise, of a Professorship in one of the nascent, or about to be erected universities in the new world. In an evil hour he broke up his establishment, sold his property, and with his wife and an infant son, went to the port and city of Londonderry, and took their passage in one of those mer- chant transport vessels then so numerous, bound for the United States. At that time, and for many years after, this rage for emigra- tion, was so great, that many young men, women, and whole families, artificers and husbandmen, who were not able to de- fray the expenses of their own passage, were encouraged by the ship-owners to embark, the owners providing them with the most miserable necessaries of life for their passage, and throwing them together like slaves in a Guinea ship, on the middle passage; they went bound, as it was called, — the cap- tain having the privilege of selling them for five or seven years, to the trans-atlantic planters, to repay the expenses of their passage and maintenance ! A supine and culpable go- vernment, which never sufficiently interested itself for the wel- fare of this excellent Island, and its hardy and vigorous inha- bitants, suffered this counterpart to the execrable West India Slave Trade, to exert its most baneful and degrading influence, among its own children, without reprehension or control ; and thus, many of its best and most useful subjects were carried away to people states, which, in consequence, became their rivals, and since that time, their most formidable enemies. Among these, as we have already seen, Mr. J. Clarke, his wife, and infant son, had embarked, and were on the eve of sailing, when Mr. Clarke's father arrived from the country, went on board, expostulated with his son, and by the influence of tears and entreaties, enforced by no small degree of paren- tal tenderness, and duly tempered with authority, prevailed on him to change his purpose, to forfeit his passage, and to return with him to the country. Whether this, on the whole, was the best thing that could be done in such circumstances, is hard to say. What would have been the result had he gone to America, we cannot tell : what was the result of his return, the following pages will in some measure show. The immediate effects were however, nearly ruinous to the family and its prospects. There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune : Omitted ; all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries." The " Shallows and Miseries" in which Mr. Clarke was bound, almost through life, proved that he omitted to take the tide at flood. We have already observed that, in order to go to the conti- adam clarke's birth, etc. 47 nent of America, he had broken up his establishment, and con- verted his property into cash. Much time, and not a little of this property, had been spent in preparations for their voyage, and expected settlement in a strange country : but he found, to his cost, on his return, that it was much easier to unsettle than to establish. He was undetermined for a considerable time what mode of life was most eligible, for many projects ap- peared fair at a distance, which, on a nearer approach, eluded the grasp of his expectation ; and others, if well-digested and cautiously and perseveringly pursued, promising honor and wealth, resembled the horizon which ever appears at the same distance to the traveller, though he have already passed over some thousands of miles in order to reach it. Thus, " Disappointment laughed at hope's career," till his remaining property was expended, and alternately elated and depressed with promises and disappointments, he was obliged to begin the world anew, equally destitute of ad- vantages and means. In this state of things, nothing presented itself to him but a choice of difficulties : friends and internal re- sources, had equally failed ; and he went and settled in an obscure village called Moybeg, township of Cootinaglugg, in the parish of Kilchronaghan, in the barony of Loughinshallin, in the county of Londonderry. In this obscure district, the names of which almost bid defiance to enunciation, his second son Adam, the subject of this Memoir, was born, either in the year 1760 or 1762, most probably the former, but neither the year nor the month can be ascertained. He was baptized in the parish church by his uncle, the Rev. John Tracy, the Rec- tor, who had married his mother's sister. On application to the late worthy incumbent, the Rev. Mr. Bryan, to obtain a copy of the baptismal register, the following answer has been obtained : — " The archives of the church have been carefully searched, but no register during Mr. Tracy's incumbency has been found j none having been kept during that period ; or if kept, since irrecoverably lost." As Mr. Tracy died sometime between 1760 and 1762, and Adam Clarke was baptized by him, he must have been bom within that period. The day and month are as uncertain as the year, only I have understood it was sometime in the spring. At the request of his grandfather and grandmother Clarke, he was named Adam, in memory of a beloved son, who had died of the small pox, when only six years of age ; and thev engaged that, as soon as he could walk alone, they would take him as their own, and be at the whole charge of his education. It may not be improper to say a few words here of his bro- ther, who was born about three years before him. He was called Tracy, at the instance of h'is uncle the Rev. J. Tracy, already mentioned ; who, having no child, promised to beat the ADAM CLARKE'S ONLY BROTHER. expense of his education, &c. Such promises are rarely ful- filled ; but this pledge would probably have been redeemed, had Mr. Tracy lived, for he had already taken the child to his own house, but dying shortly after, the young lad, already spoiled by indulgence, was restored to his parents. His father gave him a classical education, and when but a young man, he was appointed and licensed by the Consistorial Court of Deny, a schoolmaster, in a parish contiguous to that in which his father had a similar appointment, (see p. 45.) Getting weary of this mode of life, which held out but faint promises of comfort or emolument, he expressed a strong de- sire to study medicine, to which he had in some measure al- ready directed his attention. His parents consented, and he was bound apprentice to Mr. Pollock, a surgeon and apothe- cary in the town of Magherafelt, — a gentleman equalled by few in his profession, for various and sound learning, much, skill and deserved eminence in the practice of medicine ; and a mind highly cultivated by his classical attainments, and by every solid principle of politeness or good breeding. Having terminated his apprenticeship with credit to himself and his master, he went to Dublin, and studied anatomy under the celebrated Dr. Cleghorne, who was professor of that science in Trinity College, Having received letters of recommendation to some mer- chants in Liverpool, whose interest he hoped would obtain him an appointment in the Navy, he sailed for England. This expectation however failed, and he went out surgeon in a Guinea ship, made their voyage, laid in 813 negroes, who were exchanged to them for guns, gunpowder, knives, and trinkets of different kinds, and sold in Tortola to the highest bidder, as sheep or oxen in the open market. He went a second voyage, kept a journal of the way, in which he made entries of all particulars relative to the mode of pro- curing, treating, and disposing of the slaves ; with several other matters of high importance, relative to this inhuman and infernal traffic. The captain noticing this, pretended one day to have lost some plate, all the vessel must be searched, the seamen first, then all the officers were requested to give up their keys, with an apology that no suspicion attached to them,, but merely for form's sake, lest there might be any ground left for the charge of partiality, &c. Surgeon Clarke immediately yielded his key, which was restored after some time ; but when he next visited his chest he found that his Journal had been rifled, and every leaf and page that con- tained anything relative to the traffic, torn out, or mutilated, so that from this documeu:, not one entry was left, nor could be produced in evidence against this infamous traffic, and the diabolical manner in which it was carried on. This mutilated Journal I have seen and examined; and was informed of se- adam clarke's only brother. 49 veral curious particulars by the Writer, some of which I shall take the liberty to relate. When at Bonny in Africa, Surgeon Clarke had gone a good deal on shore, and travelled some way into the country, and as he was a man of pleasing manners, and amiable carriage, he gained the confidence of the natives, accommodated himself to their mode of living, and thus had the opportunity of making several valuable remarks on their civil and religious customs. From observing the males to be universally circumcised, he was led to think that this people might be descendants of the ten lost Jewish Tribes. He observed farther, that each of their huts was divided into three apartments ; one served to dress their food in, one as a place of repose, and the third was for the Juju, the serpent god, which was the object of their worship. Thus every hut had its Temple, and every Tem- ple had its Altar and worshippers. He has informed me that, from the bodies of many of the slaves that were brought from the interior to the coast, he was obliged to extract balls, as they had been wounded in the attempts to deprive them of their liberty ; their kidnap- pers hunting them down like wild beasts, firing upon all they could not suddenly seize, no doubt killing many, and bringing those down to the coast, whose wounds were of such a nature as to promise an easy cure. In his excursions into the coun- try, he has seen the wives of the chiefs, king Peppel, and king Norfolk, as they were called, going out to the plantations to labour, their young children, (princes and princesses,) on their naked backs, holding themselves on by their hands, grasping the shoulders of their mothers, and when arrived in the field, laid down on the bare ground naked, and when weary of lying on one side, turn on the other, without ever uttering a cry ; their mothers giving them the breast at such intervals as they deemed proper. The following instances of inhumanity, from among many others, I shall select for the Reader's reflections. A stout young negress, with an infant at her breast, was brought on board, and presented to the cap- tain by one of the black dealers, who by long trafficking in flesh and blood with the inhuman European slave-dealers, had acquired all their unfeeling brutality. The captain refused to purchase her, saying " He could not be troubled with chil- dren aboard." The dealer answered, " Why massa is she no good slave ? is she no able work ?" " Yes," answered the captain, " she would do well enough, but I cannot receive children." " Well massa, would massa buy slave if she no had child ?" l: Yes," said the captain, " I should have no ob- jection to her." On this the black dealer stepped up to the woman, snatched the child out of her arms, and threw it overboard; on which the captain without expressing the least concern, purchased the mother. I should add, what will per- go adam clarke's only brother. haps relieve the Reader's feelings, though it will not remove his honest indignation, that a negro seeing the child thrown overboard, paddled to the place with his canoe, jumped in after it, and brought it up apparently alive, and immediately- made towards the shore. This captain carried brutality and ferocity as far as they could go ; even his own interest yielded to his cruelty. Du- ring this passage several of the negroes got into what is tech- nically called the sulks; i. e. they refused to eat; and fore- seeing their misery, chose to starve themselves to death, ra- ther than encounter it : one in particular, could not be induced by any threats or inflicted punishments, to take his food. The captain beat him in the most inhuman manner with a small cutting whip ; but without a sigh or a groan he obsti- nately persisted. Boiled beans were one day brought and they endeavoured to induce him to cat : he closed his teeth in determinate opposition. The captain got a piece of iron, prized open his jaws, and broke several of his teeth in the operation, he then stuffed his mouth full of the aliment, and with the butt end of his whip endeavoured to thrust it down his throat, he was instantly suffocated : and the fiend his murderer, said on perceiving it, " See, d them, they can die whenever they please." He drove the second mate overboard, broke the arm of the cabin boy, with the stroke of an iron ladle, and committed all kinds of barbarous excesses. One day when companies of the slaves were brought upon deck for the sake of fresh air, and an iron chain was passed through their fetters, and then bolted to the deck ; it happened that a negro got his feet out of his fetters, and stealing softly till he got to the bowsprit, then, in order to attract the attention of his tormentors, he set up a wild loud laugh ; as soon as he found he was observed, he leaped into the deep, and sunk to rise no more. The captain instantly seized his musket loaded with ball, and fired down in the place in which he sunk, that he might have the pleasure of killing him before he could be drowned. These were but parts of his ways, but I shall for- bear to harrow up the blood of the Reader any longer : such cruelties are almost necessarily connected with a traffic cursed of God, and abhorred by man ; and although the trade is abo- lished by our legislature, yet let them not suppose that the blood of it is purged away. As a nation, our reckoning is not yet settled for the wrongs of Africa. It will not surprise the reader to hear that this captain lost his vessel in returning from the West Indies, and afterwards died in the worlthouse in Liverpool. Filled with horror at this inhuman traffic, Surgeon Clarke abandoned it after this second voyage : he married and esta- blished himself at a place called Maghull, about eight miles adam Clarke's childhood. 51 from Liverpool, where for many years he had an extensive practice, and was remarkably successful. He died there in 1802, universally respected and regretted, leaving four sons and one daughter behind him. These young men were brought up principally under the direction of their uncle Adam ; two embraced the medical profession, one of whom has been sur- geon in his Majesty's navy for about twelve years, and has seen the most dangerous service. The oldest, a young man of singular habits, much learning and a comprehensive mind, is author of a work of deep research, entitled An Ex-position of the False Prophet, and the Number of the Apocalyptic Beast. They are all worthy of their amiable father, and re- pay the pains taken in their education by their uncle. But it is now time to return to the principal subject of these Memoirs, whom we have yet seen only on the threshold of life. In the life of an infant there can be little of an interesting nature ; yet there were a few things so singular as to be wor- thy of remark. His brother we have seen, by the manner of his education, was through the indulgence of a fond uncle nearly spoiled : and indeed he was so softened by this inju- dicious treatment, that it produced an unfavourable effect throughout life ; being the first-born and a fine child he was the favourite, especially of his mother. Adam, on the other hand, met with little indulgence, was comparatively neglected, nursed with little care, and often left to make the best of his own course. He was no spoiled child, was always corrected when he deserved it ; and sometimes when but a small degree of blame attached to his undirected conduct. Through this mode of bringing up, he became uncommonly hardy, was un- usually patient of cold, took to his feet at eight months ; and before he was nine months old, was accustomed to walk with- out guide or attendant in a field before his father's door ! He was remarkably fond of snow; when he could little more than lisp he called it his brother, saw it fall with rapturous delight; and when he knew that much of it lay upon the ground, would steal out of his bed early in the morning, with nothing on but his shirt, get a little board, go out, and with it dig holes in the snow, call them rooms, and when he had fin- ished his frozen apartments, sit down naked as he was, and thus most contentedly enjoy the fruit of his own labour! Though by no means a lusty child, he had uncommon strength for his age, and his father often took pleasure in set- ting him to roll large stones, when neighbours or visitants came to the house. Many of the relatives of A. C. on both sides the house, were remarkable for vast muscular powers. One of his ma- ternal uncles, the Rev. 1. M'Lean, a Clergyman, possessed in- credible strength, which he often used, not in the best of causes. 52 FAMILY PECULIARITIES. He could bend iron bars with a stroke of his arm ; roll up large pewter dishes like a scroll with his fingers ; and when travel- ling through Bovagh wood, a place through which his walks frequently lay, he has been known to pull down the top of an oak-sapling, twist it into a withe by the mere strength of his arms and fingers, and thus working it down in a spiral form to the earth, leave it with its root in the ground, for the astonish- ment of all that might pass by. One day dining at an inn with two officers, who, perhaps, unluckily for themselves, wished to be witty at the parson's expense ; he said something which had a tendency to lessen their self-confidence. One of them considering his honour touched, said, " Sir, were it not for your cloth, I would oblige you to eat the words you have spoken." Mr. M'Lean rose up in a moment, took off his coat, rolled it up in a bundle and threw it under the table, with these fearful words ; " Divinity lie thou there, and M'Lean do for thyself!" So saying, he seiz- ed the foremost of the heroes by the cuff of the neck and by the waistband of the breeches, and dashed him through the strong sash-window of the apartment, a considerable way on the opposite pavement of the street ! Such was the projectile violence, that the poor officer passed through the sash as if it had been a cobweb. Both extremes met in this family ; a sister of this same gen- tleman, one of A. C.'s maternal aunts, was only three feet high, and died about her thirtieth year. Thus Nature was as parsimonious in the one case as she was profuse in the other : yet there was another aunt in the family, who had more mus- cular power than most common men. That district might be said to be the land of strong and gi- gantic men. There was born and bred Bob Dunbar, famous for his lawless and brutal strength. In the same barony, if not in the same township, were born of ordinary parents, of the name of Knight, two brothers, each of whom stood seven and a half feet high. It was a curious sight to see these two young men (who generally went in plain scarlet coats) walking through a fair, in Magherafelt, as they generally stood head and shoulders above the thousands there assembled. In the "same township, Moneymore, was the celebrated Charles Burns born. He was a young man, and so were the Knights, when A. C. was a lad at school. Charles Burns was well proportioned, and measured eight feet six inches! In short, all the people in that country are among either the tallest, the hardiest, or the strongest in Europe. Adam Clarke has been frequently known to thank God for the hardy manner in which he was brought up; and to say, " My heavenly Father saw that I was likely to meet with many rude blasts in journeying through life, and he prepared me in infancy for the lot his providence destined for me ; so that adam clarke's childhood. 53 through his mercy I have been enabled to carry a profitable childhood up to hoary hairs." He would add, " He knew that I must walk alone through life, and therefore set me on my feet right early, that I might be prepared by long practice for the work I was appointed to perform." It has already been observed that his grand parents promised to take him to themselves when he could be safely taken from under a mother's care. This they accordingly did ; but little Adam could ill brook confinement in the house by the side of his grandmother. He was accustomed to roam about the walls and hedges ; and there being a draw-well into which he was particularly fond of looking, when it was left uncovered ; his grandmother, fearing that he might some day fall in and be drowned, sent him home to his parents. He took the small-pox, when he was about five years old, in the natural way ; inoculation was then scarcely known, and the usual treatment was as follows : — the patient was covered up with a load of clothes in a warm bed, the curtains drawn close to keep off every breath of air, and some spiritu- ous liquors carefully given, in order to strike the pock out, as it was termed ! It is no wonder that such treatment of an inflammatory disorder carried thousands to an untimely grave. Adam was covered from head to foot with this disease, but no authority or power of parents, or attendants, could confine him to his bed. Whenever he found an opportunity he left his bed, and ran out naked into the open air. This he did frequently, in defiance of all custom and authority ; he was led to adopt the cool regimen, had a merciful termination of the disorder, and escaped without a single mark ! He has often been heard to say, " He perfectly remembered this time, and still retained a lively impression of the relief he found in this burning disease, by exposure to the open air, though he suffered much in walking, for even the soles of his feet were covered with pustules." This early recollection need not be wondered at ; his mem- ory seems to have been in exercise from his tenderest infancy ; for he has been known to relate circumstances to his mother, which he had in recollection, though she knew that they had taken place when probably he was only three years of age ! When he was about six years old, an occurrence took place which deserves to be circumstantially related. At this lime his father lived at Maghera, where he kept a public school, both English and classical, and where he was tutor to the son of the Rev. Dr. Barnard, then Dean of Deny, and rector of Maghera, and afterwards successively Bishop of Kilaloe and Limerick. Near to where Mr. Clarke lived was a very de- cent orderly family, of the name of Brooks, who lived on a small farm. They had eleven children, some of whom went regularly to Mr. Clarke's school : one, called James, was the 54 EARLY IMPRESSIONS. tenth child, a lovely lad, between whom and little Adam there subsisted a most intimate friendship, and strong attachment. One day when walking hand in hand in a field near the house, they sat down on a bank and began to enter into very serious conversation:- — they both became much affected, and this was deepened to exquisite distress by the following observations made by little Brooks, " O, Addy, Addy," said he, " what a dreadful thing is eternity, and, O, how dreadful to be put into hell fire and to be burnt there for ever and ever !" They both wept bitterly, and, as they could, begged God to forgive their sins ; and they made to each other strong promises of amend- ment. They wept till they were really sick, and departed from each other with full and pensive hearts ! In reviewing this circumstance, Adam has been heard to say : — " I was then truly and deeply convinced that I was a sinner, and that I was liable to eternal punishment; and that nothing but the mercy of God could save me from it : though I was not so conscious of any other sin as that of disobedience to my parents, which at that time affected me most forcibly. When I left my little companion, I went home, told the whole to my mother with a full heart, expressing the hope that I should never more say any bad words, or refuse to do what she or my father might command. She was both surprised and affected, and gave me much encouragement, and prayed heartily forme. With a glad heart she communicated the information to my father, on whom I could see it did not make the same impres- sion ; for he had little opinion of pious resolutions in childish minds, though he feared God, and was a serious conscientious churchman. I must own that the way in which he treated it was very discouraging to my mind, and served to mingle im- pressions with my serious feelings, that were not friendly to their permanence: yet the impression, though it grew faint, did not wear away. It was laid deep in the consideration of eternity ; and my accountableness to God for my conduct ; and the absolute necessity of enjoy ing his favour, that I might never taste the bitter pains of eternal death. Had I had any person to point out the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the world, I believe I should then have been found as capable of repentance and faith, (my youth and circumstances consi- dered,) as I ever was afterwards. But I had no helper, 'no messenger, one among a thousand, who could shew man his righteousness.'' " Though the place was divided between the Church and the Presbyterians, yet there was little even of the formof godliness, and still less of the power. Nor indeed, were the people excited to examine the principles of their own creed, till many years after, when the Methodists came into that country, "preaching repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ." As to his little companion, James Brooks, there was some- EARLY ANTIPATHIES. thing singular in his history. It has already been noted that he was the tenth child of his parents, and that the Rector of the parish was the famous Dr. Barnard, deservedly celebrated among the literary friends of Dr. Samuel Johnson. Mrs. Brooks having gone to the dean's one morning, to pay her tithe, took little James in her hand: when she had laid down her money, she observed: — "Sir, you have annually the tenth of all I possess, except my children; it is but justice you should have the tenth of them also. I have eleven, and this is my tenth son, whom I have brought to you as the tithe of my children, as I have brought the tithe of my grain. I hope, Sir, you will take and provide for him." To this singular ad- dress, the dean found it difficult to reply. He could not, at first, suppose the woman to be in earnest: but on her urging her application, and almost insisting on his receiving this tenth of her intellectual live stock, both his benevolence and humanity were affected; — he immediately accepted the child, had him clothed, &c, let him lodge with the parents for a time, and sent him to school to Mr. John Clarke. In a short time Mr. C. removed from that part of the country; and what became of the interesting young man is not known. He was always called Tithe by the school-boys. In some children, as well as grown-up persons, certain un- accountable sympathies and atipathies have been observed. Adam had a singular antipathy to large fat men, or men with big bellies, as he phrased it. A gentleman of the name of Pearce Quinlin, was his fa- ther's nearest neighbour: this man was remarkably corpulent; his eyes stood out with fatness, and his belly was enormously protuberant. With this gentleman Adam was a favorite, yet he ever beheld him with abhorrence; and could hardly be per- suaded to receive the little gifts which Mr. Q.. brought to obtain his friendship. The following circumstance rendered the dis- like more intense. — A dumb man, who pretended to tell for- tunes, called there a spac-man, came one day to his father's house. Mrs. Clarke, looked upon such persons with a favour- able eye, as it was her opinion, that if God in the course of his providence, deprived a man of one of his senses, he com- pensated this by either rendering the others more intense and accurate, or by some particular gift : and she thought, to most that were born dumb, a certain degree of foreknowledge was imparted. She was therefore, ready to entertain persons of this caste : and the man in question was much noted in that country, as having been remarkably fortunate in some of his guesses. Adam, who was conning the wizard's face with an eye of remarkable curiosity, was presented to him, to learn what was to be his lot in life. The artist, after beholding him for some time, gave signs that he would be very fond of the bot- tle, grow fat and have an enormous belly! These were pre- 56 adam Clarke's education cisely two of the things that he held in most ahhorrence. He had often seen persons drunk, and he considered them as dangerous madmen, or the most brutish of beasts : and his dislike to the big belly has already been stated. He had even then a high opinion of the power and influence of prayer. He thought, that the spae man might possibly be correct : but he believed there was no evil awaiting him in futurity which God could not avert. He therefore went immediately out into a field, got into a thicket of furze-bushes, and kneeling down he most fervently uttered the following petition: — "O, Lord God, have mercy upon me, and never suffer me to be like Pearce Q,uinlin !" This he urged, with little variety of lan- guage, till he seemed to have a persuasion that the evil would be averted ! Strange as it may appear, this prediction left a deep impression upon his mind : and he has hitherto passed through life's pilgrimage, equally dreading the character of the brutal drunkard, and the appearance of the human por- poise. Had it not been for this foolish prediction, he had pos- sibly been less careful ; and what the effects might have been we cannot calculate, for no man is impeccable. There was little remarkable in other parts of his childhood, but that he was a very inapt scholar, and found it very difficult to acquire the knowledge of the Alphabet. For this dulness he was unmercifully censured and unseasonably chastised: and this, so far from eliciting genius, rather produced an in- crease of hebilude, so that himself began to despair of ever being able to acquire any knowledge by means of letters. When he was about eight years of age, he was led to enter- tain hopes of future improvement from the following circum- stance. A neighbouring schoolmaster calling at the school where he was then endeavouring to put vowels and consonants together ; was desired by the teacher to assist in hearing a few of the lads their lessons : Adam was the last that went up, not a little ashamed of his own deficiency : he however hobbled through his lesson, though in a very indifferent man- ner : and the teacher apologised to the stranger, and remarked that, that lad was a grie vous dunce. The assistant, clapping young Clarke on the head, said, Never fear, Sir, this lad will make a good scholar yet. This was the first thing that check- ed his own despair of learning; and gave him hope. How injudicious is the general mode of dealing with those who are called dull boys. To every child learning must be a task; and as no young person is able to comprehend the maxim that the acquisition of learning will compensate the toil, encou- ragement and kind words from the teacher, are indispensably necessary to induce the learner to undergo the toil of these gymnastic exercises. Wilful idleness and neglect should be reprehended and punished ; but where genius has not yet been developed, nor reason acquired its proper seat, the mildest AT SCHOOL. 57 methods are the most likely to be efficient : and the smallest progress should be watched, and commended, that it may ex- cite to farther attention and diligence. With those who are called dull boys, this method rarely fails. But there are very few teachers who possess the happy art of developing genius. They have not a sufficiency of pene- tration to find out the bent or characteristic propensity of the minds of their pupils, in order to give them the requisite ex- citement and direction. In consequence, there have been innumerable native diamonds which have never shone, be- cause they have fallen into such hands as could not distinguish them from common pebbles ; and to them neither the hand nor the art of the lapidary, has ever been applied. Many children, not naturally dull, have become so under the influence of the schoolmaster. As soon as Adam got through the Reading made easy, had Jearnt to spell pretty correctly, and could read with tolerable ease in the New Testament; his father, who wished if possi- ble to make him a scholar, put him into Lilh/s Latin Gram- mar. This was new and painful work to little Clarke, and he was stumbled by almost the first sentence which he was ordered to get by heart ; not because he could not commit it to memory, but because he could not comprehend — " In speech be these eight parts following ; Noun, Pronoun, Verb, Participle, declined ; Adverb, Conjunction, Preposi- tion, Interjection, undeclined." He, however, committed this to memory, and repeated it and many of its fellows, without understanding one tittle of the matter ; for no pains were taken to enable him to see the reason of those things which he was commanded to get by rote ; and as the understanding was not instructed, the me- mory was uselessly burthened. The declensions of nouns were painful, but he overcame them : the conjugations of the verbs he got more easily through, because there he perceived a species of harmony or mtisic, and they were no burthen to his memory ; though each verb was required to be conjugated after the manner of Hoole, yet he could pretty readily run through them all, and took delight to puzzle his school-fellows with difficult verbs, especially those which admitted great variety of inflection: e. g. Lavo, lavas, lavi, atque lavavi ; lavare, lavandi, lavan- do, lavandum ; lautum, lautu, lotitm, lotu, atque lavatum, lavatu ; lurans, lauturus, loturus, atque lavaturus. Propria quce maribus, he got through with difficulty, at two lines each lesson ; which he was to repeat, afterwards con- strue, and lastly parse. With the As in prcesenli, of the same ponderous grammar, he was puzzled beyond measure: he could not well understand the 60 fit hi, do fit di, mo fit ui, no fit vi, quo fit gut, to fit ti, &c. &c, and could by no means pro- 58 adam clarke's education ceed : of the reason or probable utility of such things, he could form no adequate judgment : and at last this became so intolerable, that he employed two whole days and a part of the third, in fruitless endeavours to commit to memory two lines, with their construction, of what appeared to him, use- less and incomprehensible jargon. His distress was inde- scribable, and he watered his book with his tears: at last he laid it by, with a broken heart, and in utter despair of ever being able to make any progress. He took up an English Testament, sneaked into an English class ? and rose with them to say a lesson. The master perceiving it, said in a terrific tone, " Sir, what brought you here ? where is your Latin grammar?" He burst into tears, and said, with a piteous tone, I cannot learn it. He had now reason to expect all the severity of the rod : but the master, getting a little moderate, perhaps moved by his tears, contented himself with saying "Go, Sirrah, and take up your grammar: if you do not speedily get. that lesson, I shall pull your ears as long as Jowler's, (a great dog belonging to the premises,) and you shall be a beggar to the day of your death." These were terrible words, and seemed to express the sentence of a ruth- less and unavoidable destiny. He retired and sat down by the side of a young gentleman with whom he had been in class, but who, unable to lag behind Avith his dulness, re- quested to be separated, that he might advance by himself. Here he was received with the most bitter taunts, and poig- nant insults. " What ! have you not learned that lesson yet? O what a stupid ass! You and I began together: you are now only in As in prcesenli, and I am in Syntax !" and then with cruel mockings, began to repeat the last lesson he had learned. The effect of this was astonishing — young Clarke was roused as from a lethargy ; he felt, as he expressed him- self, as if something had broken within him : his mind in a moment was all light. Though he felt indescribably morti- fied, he did not feel indignant : what, said he to himself, shall lever be a dunce, and the butt of those fellows' insults ! He snatched up his book, in a few moments committed the iesson to memory, got the construction speedily ; went up and said it, without missing a word ! — took up another lesson, acquired it almost immediately, said this also without a blemish, and in the course of that day wearied the master with his so often repeated returns to say lessons ; and committed to memory all the Latin verses with their English construction, in which heavy and tedious Lilly has described the four con- jugations, with their rules, exceptions, &c. &c. Nothing like this had ever appeared in the school before — the boys were astonished — admiration took the place of mockings and insult, and from that hour, it may be said from that moment, he found his memory at least capable of embracing every subject AT SCHOOL. that was brought before it, and his own long sorrow was turned into instant joy ! For such a revolution in the mind of a child, it will not be easy to account. He was not idle, and though playful never wished to indulge this disposition at the expense of instruc- tion — his own felt incapacity was a most oppressive burthen ; and the anguish of his heart was evidenced by the tears which often flowed from his eyes. Reproof and punishment pro- duced neither change nor good, for there was nothing to be corrected to which they could apply. Threatenings were equally unavailing, because there was no wilful indisposition to study and application ; and the fruitless desire to learn, shewed at least the regret of the want of that ability for the acquisition of which, he would have been willing to have made any kind of sacrifices. At last this ability was strangely acquired, but not by slow degrees j there was no conquest over inaptitude and dulness by persevering and gradual conflict ; the power seemed ge- nerated in a moment, and in a moment there was a transition from darkness to light, from mental imbecility to intellectual vigour, and no means nor excitements were brought into ope- ration but those mentioned above. The reproaches of his school-fellow were the spark which fell on the gunpowder and inflamed it instantly. The inflammable matter was there before, but the spark was wanting. This would be a proper subject for the discussion of those who write on the philosophy of the human mind. This detail has been made the more particular, because he ever considered it as one of the most important circumstances in his life ; and he has often mentioned it as a singular Provi- dence which gave a strong characteristic colouring to his sub- sequent life. This account may not be unuseful to those who have the care of youth ; and it may teach the masters of the rod and fenda, that these are not the instruments of instruc- tion, though extremely proper for the correction of the obsti- nate and indolent ; — that motives exciting to emulation and to the prevention of disgrace may be, at least in some cases, more powerful and efficient than any punishment that can be inflicted on the flesh. A thorough study of the philosophy of the human mind and what constitutes individual character, seem essentially necessary qualifications for all those to whom the instruction of the rising generation is confided ; and if this be so, there are few persons properly qualified to be competent Schoolmasters. Let not the reader imagine from this detail, that from the time mentioned above, A. C. found no difficulty to cultivate his mind in the acquisition of knowledge; it was not so: he ever found an initial difficulty to comprehend any thing; and till he could comprehend in some measure the reason of the 60 adam clarke's education thing, he could not acquire the principle itself. In this respect there was a great difference between him and his brother ; the latter apprehended a subject at first sight, and knew as much ot it in a short time as ever he knew after : the former was slow in apprehension and proceeded with great caution till he understood and was sure of his principles ; he then pro- ceeded with vigour, endeavouring to push those principles to the utmost of their legitimate consequences. There was one branch of knowledge in which Adam could never make any progress ; viz. Arithmetic. He was put to this when he was very young, before he was capable of com- prehending its leading principles ; and the elementary books then in common use were not happily conceived for the ad- vantage of learners. Fisher's Arithmetic, was that out of which he learned the Jive common rules, and in it the exam- ples in many cases are far from being distinct, and are often not well constructed to shew the principles of the rule which they are intended to illustrate. What can a child make of the following question in Multiplication : — " In ninety-eight casks of capers, each 3cwt. 3qrs. 14lbs., how many hundreds'?" This was a question with which he was grievously puzzled, and which when he had mastered, he thought he had perform- ed a work of no small magnitude. The depressed state of this Family has already been referred to, and in such a way as not to leave the Reader any great hope of its emerging and rising to affluence : this was never the case. Still, however, the best provision was made for the education of the two only sons, which the disadvantageous circumstances of the family could afford. But how true is the saying of an eminent poet : — Haud facile emergunt quorum virtutibus obstat Res angusta domi. — Slowly they rise whose virtues are oppressed By hard distress at home. Mr. Clarke had always a small farm, this was necessary for the support of a large family ; his professional labours being inadequately remunerated at best, and often ill repaid by the parents of his pupils. It has no doubt been already perceived that Mr. C.'s school was of a mixed nature. He taught by himself alone, Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic, comprising Bookkeeping, Trigonometry, and Navigation ; together with the Greek and Latin classics. The price at Avhich each was taught may be reputed a curiosity : — Reading, l$d. per week; Writing, 2d.; Writing and Ac- compts, 4d.; and Greek and Latin 7s. per quarter. These were the highest terms in that country in the latter end of the eighteenth century. AT SCHOOL. 61 Should it be supposed that the work was proportioned to the wages, it may safely be asserted, it was not. Mr. C. was a good penman, few, if any classical scholars superior: he was thoroughly acquainted with arithmetic, and taught it well; and of his classical knowledge, his son Adam, no mean judge in a matter of this nature, has been heard to say, "I have known many of more splendid literary talents than my father, many who could shine more pro re nata, in Greek and Latin learn- ing; but a more correct scholar I never knew." Many persons of considerable eminence in all departments of science and li- terature were educated by Mr. Clarke, — Clergymen, Presbyte- rian Ministers and Popish Priests; Lawyers, Surgeons, Physi- cians, and Schoolmasters. From this statement it will appear, that he required some- thing to help out the deficiencies of his school, for the support of a numerous family : Agriculture, as has already been ob- served, of which he was particularly fond, was that to which he had recourse. On a peculiarly ungrateful soil, which he held for many years, he bestowed much of his own labour both early and late, this was the only time he had ; for both in summer and winter he entered his school precisely at eight in the morning, which he continued till eight in the evening in summer, and till near four in the depth of winter. From May till September, he allowed one hour for dinner: during the rest of the year the school was continued without any in- termission. He had only two vacations in the year, amount- ing to three weeks in the whole; eight days at Easter and a fortnight at Christmas. Before and after school hours was the onlv time in which he could do any thing in his little farm;, the rest of the labor, except in those times when several hands must be employed to plant and sow, or gather in the kindly fruits of the earth, was performed, with very little fo- reign assistance, by his two sons. This cramped their educa- tion; but, Omnia vincitimprobus labor ; the two brothers went day about to school, and he who had the advantage of the day's instruction gained and remembered all he could, and imparted on his return to him who continued in the farm, all the know- ledge that he had acquired in the day. Thus they were alter- nately instructers and scholars, and each taught and learned fortheother. Thiswas makingthe bestof theircircumstances, and such a plan is much more judicious and humane than that which studies to make one son a scholar, while the others, equally worthy of attention, are made the drudges of the fa- mily, whereby jealousies and family feuds are often generated. Their Father, who was a great admirer of the Georgics of Virgil, — the finest production of the finest Poet that ever lived, — without particularly calculating that the agricultural rules in that elegant work, were in many respects applicable only to the soil and climate of Italy, Lat. 45. applied them in a widely 62 SCHOOL ANECDOTES. different climate, to a soil extremely dissimilar, in Lat. 55, N This, in course, was not likely to bring about the most benefi- cial results. However this was the general plan on which Mr. Clarke carried on his agricultural operations; and it must be confessed, howsoever injudicious this must have been in several respects, his crops were, at least, as good as those of his neigh- bours. The School in which A. Clarke had his Classical Education, was situated in the skirt of a wood, on a gently rising emi- nence, behind which a hill thickly covered with bushes of different kinds and growth, rose to a considerable height. In front of this little building there was a great variety of pros- pect, both of hill and dale, where, in their seasons, all the operations of husbandry might be distinctly seen. The boys who could be trusted, were permitted in the fine weather, to go into the wood, to study their lessons. In this most advan- tageous situation, Adam read the Eclogues and Georgics of Virgil, where he had almost every scene described in these poems, exhibited in real life, before his eyes. He has often said, if ever he enjoyed real intellectual happiness, it was in that place, and in that line of study. These living scenes were often finer and more impressive comments on the Roman poet, than all the laboured notes and illustrations of the Del- phin Editors, and the Variorum Critics. It was in this place, but at an earlier period than that noted above, that he composed a Satire on one of his school fellows, with whom he had fallen out, on no very sufficient grounds. The poem consisted of 175 verses ; and was all composed one Saturday afternoon, after the breaking up of school, at a time in which he had not learned to write small hand, so as to be sufficiently intelligible ; his brother therefore wrote them down from his mouth; some Fragments only remain, and they may be introduced here as a proof of what Dr. Johnson calls a precocity of genius in this way : and although they should not be deemed promissory of any poetic abilities, yet they are at least for a lad of eight or nine years of age, as good as the verses on Master Duck, attributed to the almost infancy of the above celebrated writer. THE PARALLEL:- A POEM. Or Verses on William W—k — n, of Portglenone, in the County of Antrim, describing the base extraction, high insignificance, and family connexions, of the said William W — lc-~ -n, alias Pigmy Will. The Isle Egina as it's said, "Was onr.e depeopled by a plague : Nor male nor female then was spared Save Racus, who was its laird. Great Jove to Eacus gave birth, As good a wight as hv'd on earth ; SCHOOL ANECDOTES. And skill'd in magic as it's said, He found out means to stop the plague. The ants they saw to their surprise, The nation fall before their eyes j And earnestly desired then, That he would change them into men. This was no sooner said than done, For straight to conjuring he begun ; Then feet and legs might there be seen, And bodies moving on the green ; With thighs, arms, shoulders, neck, and head, Like ghosts arising from the dead. Malta dcsunt. When all this tiny race was fram'd, There was one of them that was nam'd Ninncus, he of stature small, The merest dwarf among them all ; The little Nsethius, Pluto's client, Compared to him was like a giant ; — Nor all the race of Fairies dire, Nor Salamanders bred in fire, Nor Oberon the fairy king, Nor all the race of dwarfs living, Nor one on earth compared him 'till, Except the moth called Pigmy Will. (1) But certes here, you'll think anon, This is a rare comparison ; That such a lad as Ninneus was, Should likened be to Witt the dwarf. But now, my muse, for to be brief On Willy's acts turn o'er a leaf. The Pigmy people did declare, With race of Cranes a dreadful war ; And urg'd them with their winged might To meet them on the field to fight. The Cranes, not daunted at this news, Ne'er doubting that they'd soon confuse This reptile race, void dread or fear, Unto the battle they drew near. Our Pigmy with his little page, (2) A fearful crane did soon engage: She tore their face with beak and nail, And dealt her blows as thick as hail. In minutes three the page was kill'd ; And Will being well in running skill'd, Took to his heels t' avoid disgrace, And shun the rage of cranish race. But fortune's smiles, that wait on th' brave, Beam'd not, our hero fleet to save ; For soon, alas ! he fell flat down. The crane observing him in swoon, Clutch'd and lift high up in the air, Having fast hold of poor Will's hair. 64 adam clarke's At this unhappy change of place, Will made a haggard rueful face ; And earnestly desired to be Rid of his potent enemy. The crane fast sped, now high, now low. ht:*u i „ ~„:*:fr . r_ _ . With her poor caitiff screaming foe ; Till coming o'er Portnegro town, (3) She loos'd her fangs, and let him down: And he, poor wight, like old king Log, Came plumb directly to a bog. Like all ancient compositions of famous and learned men, the above wonderful Poem stands in need of Notes and Illus- trations. (A) The transformation of the ants into men by Eacus, in the Island of Egina, is taken from Ovid's Mctam. Lib. VII., Fab. xxvi. and xxvii. And the story of the pigmies and the cranes, may be seen in Homer, Pliny, and Juvenal. (1) Pigmy Will, — the school nick-name of the young man, William (2) Little page, — a poor little serving lad, a sort of playmate of William's when he was at his father's house. (3) Portnegro, — the town of Portglenone, on the River Ban, near to which this family dwelt. (4) Til thrash your back, — a very common expression of William's father. But, it may be asked, how could young Clarke, at this age, get the information which enabled him to make the above classical allusions, for he had not yet read the authors to whom the verses refer ? It may be answered, that he was now learn- ing, and was particularly fond of classical history ; and, hav- ing procured an old copy of Littleton's Dictionary, he made himself, at a very early age, entire master of all the proper names ; so that there was neither person nor place in the classic world, of which he could not give a ready account. This made him of great consideration among his school-fel- lows ; and most of them in all the forms, generally applied to him for information on the historical parts of their lessons. His love of reading was intense and unconquerable. To gratify this passion, and a passion it was in him, he would un- dergo any privations, and submit to any kind of hardship. The pence that he and his brother got for being good boys, and doing extra work, &c, they carefully preserved, never laying them out on toys, sweetmeats, &c, as other children did ; but Quacunque desunt. When from Portnegro he came home, His friends embrac'd him one by one ; But father said, " I'll thrash your back, sir, (4) " Gin ye dinna mend your manners straight, sir !' Catera desunt. FIRST LIBRARY. 05 when their savings amounted to a sum for which they could purchase some interesting book, they laid it out in this way. At first they got penny and twopenny histories, afterwards sixpenny books, and so on, as their minds were improved and their pence increased. Their's was a little library — but to them exceedingly pre- cious ; for their books were their companions, and in their company every vacant hour was employed. Before and after the necessary hours of repose were abridged. Childish his- tory, tales, and romances, were the first subjects of their study. The following short list of their books I give as a curiosity ; the names of several are, I suppose, no longer known : — The Reading made easy, and Dilworth's Spelling- Book. "The famous and delightful History of Tom Thumb. Ditto of Jack the Giant Killer. Ditto of Jack Horner. Ditto of Roseicall and Lilly Ann. Ditto of Guy Earl of Warwick. Ditto of the Seven Wise Masters and Mistresses. Ditto of the Nine Worthies of the World. Ditto of Thomas Hickathrift. Ditto of Captain James Hind. Ditto of the Bahcs in the Wood. Ditto of the Seven Champioiis of Christendom. Ditto of Sir Francis Drake. Ditto of the New World, i. e. America. Ditto of Captain Falkner. Ditto of Monlelion, or the Knight of the Oracle. Ditto of Robinson Crusoe. Ditto of Valentine and Orson. Ditto of Parismus and Parismenos. The Tale of the Three Bonnets. The Fairy Tales. Peruvian Tales. Tartarian Tales. Arabian Nights' Entertainments. The Destruction of Troy. Robin Hood's Garland. The History of Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and William of Cloudesly. The Life of Sir William Wallace. A GroaCs worth of Wit for a Penny. Chevy Chase. The Cherry and the Sloe. The Gentle Shepherd. The Pilgrim^ Progress. Msop's Fables, by L'Estrange. The Holy War. — Cum multis aliis, qua nunc prescribere longum est. Such were the humble materials which served as semina for a very large stock of bibliographical knowledge, and, as a reading ; and to gain time, G6 EFFECTS OP foundation, certainly very unpromising, of one of the most select and valuable private libraries in the kingdom. I: From small beginnings mighty fabrics rise." According to the present mode of education, most of these articles would be proscribed, as calculated to vitiate the taste and give false impressions ; especially books of enchantment, chivalry, &c. But is it not better to have a deeply rooted be- lief of the existence of an eternal world, — of God, angels and spirits, though mingled with such superstition as naturally cleaves to infant and inexperienced minds, and which maturer judgment, reflection, and experience, will easily correct, — than to be brought up in a general ignorance of God and heaven, of angels, spirits, and spiritual influence ; or in scepticism concerning the whole ? There is a sort of Sadducean edu- cation now highly in vogue, that is laying the foundation of general irreligion and Deism. Although it may not quadrate with certain received maxims, it may be here safely asserted, that it was such reading as the above, that gave A. Clarke his literary taste, and bent his mind to literary, philosophical, and metaphysical pursuits. He himself has been known to ob- serve, " Had I never read those books, it is probable I should never have been a reader, or a scholar, of any kind : yea, I doubt much, whether I should ever have been a religious man. Books of enchantments, &c, led me to believe in a spiritual world, and that if there were a devil to hurt, there was a God to help, who never deserted the upright : and, when I came to read the Sacred Writings, I was confirmed by their authority in the belief I had received, and have reason to thank God, that I was not educated under the modern Sadducean system." At this early age he read the Pilgrim's Progress, as he would read a book of Chivalry. Christian was the great Hero, by whom the most appalling difficulties were surmount- ed, the most incredible labors performed, powerful enchant- ments dissolved, giants conquered, and devils quelled. It was not likely that he would see it as a spiritual allegory : and therefore it was no wonder that he could not comprehend how Christian and Hopeful could submit to live several days and nights in the dungeon of Doubting Castle, under the torture of Giant Despair, while the former "had a key in his bosom which could open every lock in that castle." When he read that part, and found that Christian actually had such a key, and did use it, and thus released both himself and his com- panion, he called him fifty fools for his pains ; and has often since been led to express his surprise that both John Bunyan the author, and those who hold his creed, should not have been more aware of these great truths, — that no grace of God can EFFECTS OF SUCH READING. 67 be at all effectual to the salvation of the soul, unless it be faith- fully used ; — that we may have the power to believe to the saving of the soul, and yet not use that power, and so conti- nue in darkness and condemnation : for, although faith be the gift of God, it is only so as to the grace of faith, or power to believe; but the act of faith, or believing, is the act of the soul, under the aid of that power or grace; for. although, to believe without the power, is as ' ; impossible as to make a world," yet, when we have that power, we may believe and be saved. God no more believes for us, than he repents for us. We may have the grace of repentance, — a deep convic- tion from his spirit, that we have sinned ; but we may harden our hearts against that grace, and so quench the spirit. In like manner, we may have the grace or power to believe, and yet hesitate, and not cast ourselves on Divine Mercy. Chris- tian had the key of faith in his bosom, long before he pulled it out to open the doors of his prison house. In hearing the history of the Trojan War; for his father used to recite it to his children as a Winter Evening'' s Tale; Adam was so much struck with the character of Hector, — his courage, his calmness, dignified carriage, filial piety, and inflex- ible love of his country and his family, that he was quite enamoured with it ; and when he read Burtons Nine Wor- thies of the World, he longed to see Hector, whom he consi- dered the chief of the whole ; and as he had heard that in many cases the departed have revisited their friends and others ; he has gone out into the fields by himself, when a child of seven or eight years old, and with the most ardent desire, invoked the soul of the departed Chief to appear to him ; and, think- ing that it could hear, has even set it a time and place in the fields to meet him. Can it be supposed that the Romances which he read could be of any real service ? The names of the chief of these, the Reader has already seen. With respect to these he has said, when conversing with his friends on the subject, — "I believe I should have been an arrant coward had I never read Ro- mances ; such was the natural timidity, or if you please, im- becility of my mind." Of his courage none could doubt, who have seen him, while offering the salvation of God to a rebel world, surrounded and assailed by a desperate mob, standing alone, when his friends had forsaken him and fled, every man providing for his own safety. Instances of this kind will oc- cur in the course of this Narrative. As he had heard and read much of enchantmentsnnd enchan- ters, so he had heard much of magic and magicians. Whether there were any thing real in their pretended science he could not tell : but his curiosity prompted him strongly to inquire. He had heard of the Occult Philosophy of Cornelius Agrippa, and wonderful tales his school-fellows had told relative to this 68 CORNELIUS AGRIl'PA's book ; — " that it Avas obliged to be chained to a large block, else it would fly, or be carried away," &c. Hearing that a school-master at some miles' distance, had a copy, he begged his father to write a letter to the gentleman, requesting the loan of the book for a few days. Though he knew not the road, and was only about eight years of age, yet he equipped himself for the journey ; and when his mother said, " Adam, you must not attempt to go ; you will be lost, for you know not the road," he replied, Never fear, mother, I shall find it well enough. " But you will be so weary by the time you get there, that you will not have strength to return ;" to which he answered, Never fear, mother, if I can get there and get the booh; I hope to get as much out of it, as will bring me home without touching the ground. The little fellow had actually made up his mind to return to his home on the back of an angel ; he was however disappointed; the man refused to lend the book. This disappointment only served to whet and increase his curiosity : and an occurrence shortly after took place, which in some measure crowned his wishes as to a sight of this book. A family of travelling tinkers or iron founders, — makers of small iron pots, — came to the country. It was currently reported of them, that they were all conjurors and possessed some wonderful magical books. Adam got leave from his parents to visit them. He found a man, his wife, and a tall well-made son of about twenty years of age, and several other children, two of whom were dumb, encamped in a forsaken house, where, for the time being, they had erected a. furnace and were hard at work. Adam's errand was soon known, and the father, a very intelligent man, began to entertain him with strange relations of what might be done by spells, figures, diagrams, letters, fumigations, &c. &c. All this he heard with raptures, and inquired into the particulars : — these were sparingly related, and he was told to come the next day. He went accordingly, and was well received, and to his inexpres- sible joy, a copy of the three books of Cornelius Agrippa's Occult Philosophy was produced. He touched it with fear, and read it with trembling, and asked liberty to take some notes, which was conceded. In this way, studying, talking, looking for simples, and preparing for operations, he spent several days; this eccentric community cheerfully dividing, with this indefatigable student, their morsel of homely fare. Every night, however, he returned home ; and early in the morning revisited these occult philosophers. At length, when they had supplied all the adjacent place with their manufac- ture, they removed to another part of the country, entirely out of his reach ; and he returned laden with spoils, for such he esteemed them ; and having, as he supposed, the bounds of his knowledge considerably enlarged. His instructer, how- OCCULT PHILOSOPHY. CO ever, had told him that there was a fourth book of the incom- parable Cornelius Agrippa, without which, as it contained the practice of the art, it would be useless to attempt any opera- tions. This was discouraging; but it could not be remedied, and so he nearly remitted all study of the science, as he was unacquainted with the practical part, till he should be able to meet with this fourth book. The notes which he took at this time were very imperfect, as he had not learned to write, so as to make them very intel- ligible : but his brother copied all fair ; and by the help of Adam's descriptions, made those little entries pretty correct. He was persuaded the whole was innocent, for every thing seemed to be done with a reference to and dependance upon, God. By His terrible name all spirits were to be raised, em- Doth worlds, and bring about a friendly intercourse between disembodied and embodied spirits : and by it those which were fallen and wicked were to be made the servants and vassals of the good and holy. This view of the subject, tended greatly to impose on his mind ; but happening about this time to read an answer in a book entitled The Atlienian Oracle, to the question, — "Is that magic lawful whose operations are performed in the name of God, and by solemn invocations of his power," &c. &c? The answer was, No: — for, concerning such things, our Lord has said: Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? And in thy name have cast out devils? And in thy name done many wonderful works ? And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you; depart from me ye that work iniquity, Mat. vii. This had a proper effect, and made him proceed afterwards with caution in all these occult matters: nor did he ever at- tempt to use any kind of magical incantations. This subject has been treated more particularly because many young minds have been led astray by the promises and apparent piety of this science ; and have been thereby plunged into sorrows and disappointments. So much of the fear of God had young Clarke all this time, that had he not been convinced that it was consistent with religion, he never would have bent his mind to its study. Many years after this, he investigated this subject still more minutely ; and saw all that could be termed the use and abuse of it. There was, however, one good effect produced, by the re- port spread in the neighbourhood, — that the young Clarkes had such sovereign magical powers, and had such spells set in their house, garden, and fields, that, " if any person came to plunder or steal, he would be arrested by the power of those spells, and not be able to move from the spot in which he be- The science appeared to connect 22, 23. 70 OPINIONS ON HIS EARLY READING. gan his depredations, till sun-rise the next morning :" this secured their property. Previously to this, many things were stolen, particularly poultry; hut after this, nothing was ever taken ; and the family became so secure, that for months together, they neither bolted nor locked their doors ; nor indeed was it necessary. There are three or four articles in the little library mentioned above, on which it may be necessary to say a few words, be- cause of the effects produced by them on A. C's. mind ; and because of the influence they had on his future life and studies: — viz. The Arabian Nights' Entertainments, Robinson Cru- soe, and JJ Estranged Fables of JEsop. The reading of the first of these gave him that decided taste for Oriental History which has been so very useful to him in all his biblical studies. He wished to acquaint himself more particularly with a people whose customs and manners, both religious and civil, were so strange and curious; he never lost sight of this till divine providence opened his way, and placed the means in his power, to gain some acquaintance with the principal languages of the East. This also will be noticed in its due place. The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, he read as a real history: no true tale was ever better or more naturally told : and none, merely fictitious, was ever told more impo- singly. No history, true or feigned, had ever a more direct moral tendency. From it, he has often said, he learned more expressly his duty to God, to his parents, and a firmer belief in Divine Providence, than from all he read or heard from books or men during his early years: and as soon as they could read, he took care to put this work into the hands of his own children, from the conviction, that in it were combined the finest lessons, and maxims of religion and morality, with every thing interesting and fascinating in historic detail. He has always stated that the good impressions made on his mind by reading this work were never effaced. With the Fables of JEsop, and his Life by Planudes, he was always much delighted. It was almost one of the first books that he could read, and it was one of the last of his boy- ish companions that he relinquished. The little pictures with which it was adorned, were the means of attaching his mind, in the first instance. From the Countryman, whose Wagon had. stuck fast in the mud, he learned the necessity of stre- nuous exertion, while expecting the Divine succour. He often applied the words, TIlou fool! whip thy horses and set thy shoulders to the wheels, and call upon Hercides, and he wilt help thee, to those who expected God by a miracle to bring them out of their difficulties, while sitting down in indolence, and supine self-despair. The fable of the Lark and Young Ones, taught him the IRISH MANNERS. 71 folly of expecting that help from neighbours and friends which a man owed to himself, and which by the exertions of himself and family, he could furnish. From t he fable of the Farmer who wished Bain and Fair Weather in (hose times which he should judge most proper, and at harvest time had no crop, he learned the folly of human anxiety concerning the weather, and the necessity of depending on divine providence. The Braggart who pretended to have cleared so many yards at one leap in the Island of Bhodes, shewed him the vanity of empty boasting; and of pretending to have done some mighty feat in some distant country, which his friends were at liberty not to credit till they had seen him perform the same at home. The Dog in the Manger, The Trumpeter taken prisoner, The sick Kite, The Daw in borrowed Feathers, &c. &c. were all to him lessons of instruction; and from them he borrowed some of the chief maxims which governed his life. It may be proper to give here some account how the pea- santry spend their long winter's evenings, in that part of Ire- land in which young Clarke was born and educated. The young people of the different families go night about, to each other's houses, and while the female part are employed in carding and spinning, the master and elder males, in weaving linen cloth, and some of the smaller children in fillingthe bobbins, called there quills, and one holding the lighted wooden candle, a thin lath, split from a block of bog fir, called there a split ; — a grandfather, grandmother, or some other aged person, tells Tales of other limes ; chiefly respecting the ex- ploits of their ancestors, especially of Fion ma cool (Fingal) and his family ; and their wars with the Danes. Some of these tales employ two or three hours in the telling. And al- though this custom prevailed long before any thing was heard of Macpherson, and his Fingal and Ossian, and their heroes ; yet similar accounts to his relations, were produced in the Nodes Hibernicce of these people. It is true that in these, there were many wild stories which are not found in Mac- pherson, but the substance was often the same. Perhaps this may plead something in favour of Macphersoii's general ac- curacy: he did not. make all his stories: but he may have greatly embellished them. As for the existence of epic poems, in those times, either in Ireland, or in the Scotch Highlands, it is a fiction too gross to be credited : nothing like these ap- pear in the best told tales of the most intelligent Shenachics ; which they tell as having received them from their fathers, and they from their fathers, and so up to an impenetrable an- tiquity. A. C. has been heard to say : — " The Gaelic tales are of such a nature, and take possession of the heart and memory so forcibly, that they may be related by different persons again and again, without omitting any one material circumstance. I have heard some of these tales, the telling of which took up 72 IRISH TALES. three full hours, that I could repeat, and have repeated after- sentence. I have, in telling such, done little else than give a verbal relation, only mending the language, where it appeared particularly faulty." But were those tales, to which you refer, told in verse? "No; they were all in prose: but they might have been originally in verse; for the persons who related them, translated them out of their maternal tongue, which was Irish, alias Gaelic. I asked no questions relative to the form in which they existed in the original ; because I did not know that any thing depended on it ; lor of Macpherson and his Ossian, and the controversy on that subject, no man had then heard." In one of those tales which relates to Fion ma cool, (Fin- gal,) there is a statement of his conversion by the preaching of St. Patrick. When the chief of Erin presented himself be- fore the Saint, he found him very decrepit, and obliged to sup- port himself on two crutches, while he performed the ceremony of baptism. When about to sprinkle the water upon Fingal's head, the Saint was obliged to shift his ground, in order to stand more commodiously by the chief. In doing this he un- wittingly placed the pike of his crutch upon Fionas foot : the ceremony being ended, when St. Patrick was about to move away, he found the end of his crutch entangled in the foot of the chief, the pike having run through it and pinned it to the ground ! Expressing both his surprise and regret, he asked Fingal, " Why he had not informed him of the mistake at first V the noble chief answered, " I thought, holy jather, that this had been apart of the ceremony." He who could have acted so must have been truly magnanimous, and sincerely desirous of becoming a Christian ! When work and tales were ended the supper was intro- duced, which was invariably in the winter evenings, a basket of potatoes, boiled, without being peeled ; and either a salt herring, or a little milk, mostly butter-milk. Immediately after this simple repast all went to bed, and generally arose to work a considerable time before day. In few parts of the world do the peasantry live a more in- dustrious and harmless life. It should also be stated, that sometimes, instead of tales, they employ themselves with rid- dles, puzzles, and various trials of wit. Sometimes in narra- tive and national songs, among which are accounts of foreign travels, shipwrecks, the Battle of the Boyne, and the Siege of Londonderry. They are fond also of blazoning the piety, fortitude, noble descent, and valorous achievements of their forefathers. Feats, requiring either much strength or agility were frequent exercises for their young men in these social meetings ; such as lifting weights ; and, in moonlight nights, out of doors, putting the stone, and pitching the bar or iron wards, in different without the loss of a single adam clarke's religious education. 73 crow. Balancing was a favorite amusement, but in this very few make much proficiency, because it requires great agility and a very steady eye. Perhaps, few ever carried this to greater perfection than young Clarke ; whatever he was able to lift on his chin, that he could balance : iron crows, sledge hammers, ladders, chairs, &c. &c, he could in a great vari- ety of combinations balance to great perfection on chin, nose and forehead. In short, whatever he saw done in this way he could do ; so that many of the common people thought he performed these feats by a supernatural agency. How much more rational and manly are such amusements than cards, dice, or degrading games of hazard of any kind ! By these, the mind is debased, and the meanest and vilest passions ex- cited, nourished and gratified. By those, emulation, corporeal strength, agility, &c. are produced and maintained. The for- mer may make poltroons and assassins, but can never make a man, a friend, or a hero. Of his Religious Education, scarcely any thing has been vet spoken ; as it was not judged proper to mix his boyish operations and pursuits with matters of a more severe and spiritual cast. We have already seen that, at a very early age his mind was deeply impressed with subjects of the greatest impor- tance. This was not a transitory impression : — his mother was a woman decidedly religious : she was a Presbyterian of the old Puritanic school. She had been well catechised in her youth, and had read the Scriptures with great care and to much profit. She ever placed the fear of God before the eyes of her children, caused them to read and reverence the Scriptures, and endeavoured to impress the most interesting parts on their minds. If they did wrong at any time, she had recourse uniformly to the Bible, to strengthen her reproofs and to deepen conviction. In these she was so conversant and ready, that there was scarcely a delinquency, for the con- demnation of which she could not easily find a portion. She seemed to find them on the first opening, and would gene- rally say, " See what God has guided my eye to in a moment." Her own reproofs her children could in some measure bear ; but when she had recourse to the Bible, they wee terrified out of measure ; such an awful sense had they of the truth of God's Word and the Majesty of the Author. One anecdote will serve to shew her manner of reproving, and the impres- sion made by such reproofs. Adam one day disobeyed his mother, and the disobedience was accompanied with some look or gesture that indicated an undervaluing of her authority. This was a high affront ; she adam clarke's religious education. immediately flew to the Bible, and opened on these word* Prov. xxx. 17, which she read and commented on in a most awful manner : — " The eye that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall cat it." The poor cul- prit was cut to the heart, believing the words had been sent immediately from heaven : he went out into the field with a troubled spirit, and was musing on this horrible denunciation of Divine displeasure, when the hoarse croak of a raven sounded to his conscience an alarm more terrible than the cry of fire at midnight ! He looked up and soon perceived this most ominous bird, and actually supposing it to be the raven of which the text spoke, coming to pick out his eyes, he clap- ped his hands on them with the utmost speed and trepidation, and ran towards the house as fast as the state of his alarm and perturbation would admit, that he might escape the impending vengeance ! The severe creed of his mother led her more frequently to represent the Supreme Being as a God of justice, than as the (iod of mercy: the consequence was, the children dreaded God, and obeyed only through fear: — perhaps, this was the only impression that could be made, to awaken conscience and keep it awake. To the religious instructions of his mother, her son ever at- tributed, under God, that fear of the Divine Majesty, which ever prevented him from taking pleasure in sin. " My mo- ther's reproofs and terrors never left me," said lie, "till I sought and found the salvation of God. And sin was generally so burthensome to me, that I was glad to hear of deliverance from it. She taught me such reverence for the Bible, that if I had it in my hand even for the purpose of studying a chapter in order to say it as a lesson, and had been disposed with my class-fellows to sing, whistle a tune, or be facetious, I dared not do either while the book was open in my hands. In such cases I always shut it and laid it down beside me. Who will dare to lay this to the charge of superstition ."' We need not say that such a mother taught her children to pray. Each night, before they went to bed, they regularly kneeled successively at her knee and said the Lord's Prayer; and implored a blessing on father, mother, relatives, and friends : those who were six years old and upwards, said also the Apostles'' Creed. She had also a Morning Prayer and an livening Prayer, which she taught them : these prayers were in verse ; who was the author we know not. As they are simple and expressive, and well suited to infant minds, I shall insert them for their piety, whatever may be thought of their poetry. ADAM CLARKE' si KF.L1GI0U9 EDUCATION. 75 AN EVENING PRAYER, FOR A YOUNG CHILD. " I (o my bed as to my grave, And pray to God my life to save. But if I die, before I wake, I pray to God my soul to take. Sweet Jesus now, to thee I cry, To grant me mercy before I die ! To grant me mercy, and send me grace, That heaven may be my dwelling place !" A MORNING PRAYER, FOR A YOUNG CHILD " Preserve me, Lord, amidst the crowd, From every thought that's vain and proud ; And raise my wandering mind to see, How good it is to trust in thee ! From all the enemies of thy truth, Do thou, O Lord, preserve my youth : And raise my mind from worldly cares, From youthful sins and youthful snares ! Lord, tho' my heart's as hard as stone, Let seeds of early grace be sown ; Still watered by thy heavenly love, Till they spring up to joys above !" These she caused them to conclude with the following short doxology. " Give to the Father praise, And glory to the Son; And to the Spirit of his grace Be equal honour done !" The xxiiird Psalm in the old Version she also taught them to repeat, and her two sons she caused to learn and repeat Psalm exxviii. For the little Prayers above mentioned, Adam ever felt a fond attachment. "They contain," said he, "the first breath- ings of my mind towards God; and even many years after I had known the power of God to my Salvation, I continued to repeat them, as long as I could with propriety use the term youth." Every Lord's Day was strictly sanctified; no manner of work was done in the family: and the children were taught from their earliest youth to sanctify the Sabbath. On that day she took the opportunity to catechise and instruct her children, would read a chapter, sing a portion of a Psalm, and then go to prayer. While reading, she always accustomed the children who had discernment, to note some particular verse in the reading, and repeat it to her when prayer was over. This en- gaged all their attention, and was the means of impressing the word on their hearts as well as on their memories. She obliged 78 methods of sraenw. them also to get by heart the Church Catechism, and the Shorter Catechism of the Assembly of Divines. Thus, the children had the creed of their father, who was a Churchman, and the creed of their mother, who was a Pres- byterian; though she was far from being a Calvinist. But, although they went occasionally to the Presbyterian meeting, they all felt a decided preference for the Church. Though the parents of A. C. belonged to different Christian communities, they never had any animosities on religious sub- jects. The parish clergyman and the Presbyterian parson, were equally welcome to the house ; and the husband and wife most cheerfully permitted each other to go on their own way: nor were any means used by either to determine their children to prefer one community to the other. They were taught to fear God and expect Redemption through the Blood of the Cross, and all other matters were considered by their parents, of comparatively little moment. As it was fashionable as well as decent for all those who at tended divine worship on the Lord's Day to take a part in the public singing, (for choirs of singers, the bane of this part of religious worship, were not known in those times, )so the youth spent a part of the long winter's evenings in learning what was called sacred music. A person less or more skilled in this art, set up a night sclwol in some of the most populous villages; and the young people attended him for two or three hours, so many nights in the week. All had books in which the same tunes were pricked; and each tune was at first solfa'A, till it was tolerably well learned, and then sung to some correspond- ing words. Afterwards, each was obliged to give out some verse of his own; and lastly, as trials of skill, one made a line; by the time that was sung, another was obliged to find a line that would match in measure and meaning, a third did the same, and a fourth in the same way concluded the stanza ; neither of these knowing any thingpreviously of the subjecton whicli he should be obliged to compose his verse : these trials of skill often produced much doggerel, but there were, not un- frequently, some happy lines and flashes of real wit. Some- times this contest lay between two persons, the second of whom had no more than the time in which the previous line was sung, to make that which was to be its correspondent, both in sense and measure. This method of singing and making alternate verses, is cer- tainly very ancient; we may find tracesof it among the ancient Greeks and Romans: and in Homer, Theocritus, and Virgil, it is expressly mentioned. The song of Moses, of Deborah and Barak, and the fifth chapter of Isaiah, and other portions in the Old Testament, seem to have been composed in the same way. Homer, Tkeocritus, and Virgil, are direct proofs. A quotation from each will shew that this humble singing of MKTHOUS OF SINGING. 77 the aboriginal Irish peasantry, is not without the sanction of an illustrious antiquity. '12s tote pff rrpo-nav t'lfiap a ijeX(ov KaTa6vvra Aaivvvr'' ou I'rcXa/i/Jaj'C Amfus aotSav BwKoAiitai/' bvToi tc MfKaXicaj ao(aTO irpaTos. Idyll. VIII. verse 28. The goatherd not unwilling to decide, As in alternate songs the rivals vied ; They hastened with contending pipes to play; And first Menalcas breathed the rural lay. Polwheele. Virgil mentions the alternate singing, and gives a reason for it, which he appears to have borrowed from Homer: — Incipe, Dammta : tu dcinde scquere, Menalca. Altcrnis dicetis: amant alterna Camena. Eclog. III. verse 58. The challenge to Damcetas shall belong; Menalcas shall sustain his under song ; Each in his turn, your tuneful numbers bring ; By turns, the tuneful Muses love to sing. Dryden. It may be added, that their sacred tunes were few, very fiat, and mostly of common and long measure; and probably of Scottish extraction. Tunes entitled French, London, York; Abbey, Elgin, Dumfries, Newton, Dublin, &c, &c, and the Old Hundredth Psalm, were some of the chief : and one or other of these tunes might be heard in every church and meet- ing-house through a whole district or county on the Lord's Day. 7* IB IHISH SINGING. The Irish Papists used no singing in that part of the coun try, in their mass-houses. Their singing was chiefly confined to funeral occasions ; and seems to be the simple remains of an exceedingly remote antiquity ; and to have been of Asiatic extraction ; as the manner in which it was performed by the ancient Jews, appears to be precisely the same with that in which it is performed by the present Irish Papists, the des- cendants of the aboriginal inhabitants of this country. The Caoinian, Irish howl, or Irish cry, as some term it, has been much spoken of, but is little understood. It is a species of the alternate music already referred to; and was generally practised among the Papists in Dr. Clarke's youth ; and he himself has been often present at it : it was then in a state of less perfection than it had been, and now is falling into entire disuse. The priests having displaced it, by their strong recommendation of the Gregorian Chant. Mr. Beauford, in the Transactions of the Royal Irish Aca- demy, gives a good account of it : — " The body of the deceased, dressed in grave-clothes, and ornamented with flowers, and odoriferous herbs, was usually placed on a table or elevated place. The relations and the Caioniers, i. e. the persons who sung the funeral songs and lamentations, ranged themselves in two divisions, one at the head, and the other at the feet of the corpse. " The Bards and Croteries, i. e. those who composed the songs, and related the genealogy, &c, of the deceased, hav- ing before prepared the funeral Caionian, the chief bard of the head, chorus began, by singing the first stanza, in a low doleful tune, which was softly accompanied by the harp ; at ihe conclusion, the last semi-chorus began the lamentation, or idlaloo, from the final note of the preceding stanza, in which they were answered by the head semi-chorus, and then both united in one general chorus. " The chorus of the first stanza being ended, the chief bard of the first semi-chorus sang the second stanza, the strain of which was taken from the concluding note of the preceding chorus ; which being ended, the liead semi-chorus began the gol, or lamentations, in which they were answered by that of the foot ; and then as before, both united in the general full chorus. And thus alternately, were the song and choruses performed during the night. " The genealogy, rank, possessions, virtues, and vices, of the deceased, were rehearsed ; and a number of interrogations were addressed to the dead person ; as ' Why did he die ?' If married, ' Whether his wife was faithful to him : his sons dutiful, and good warriors V If a matron, ' Whether her daughter were fair or chaste V If a young man, ' Whether he had been crossed in love V or ' If the blue eyed maids of Erin treated him with scorn ?' &c, &c. THOUGHTS ON DANCING. 58 '' Each versicle of the Caoinian consisted only of four feet, and each foot was commonly of two syllables : the three first required no correspondence, but the fourth was to correspond with the terminations of the other versicles." The music-master whose lessons A. C. attended, willing to stand on at least equal ground with all his competitors, and to secure a competent number of scholars, proposed that he would divide the usual hours into two parts, teach singing in the former part, and dancing in the other. This brought him several additional scholars, and his school went on much to bis own advantage. At first Adam despised this silly adjunct to what he. had always deemed of great importance; and for a considerable time took no part in it ; as it appeared little else than a mad freak, as long as it lasted. At length, through considerable persuasion, his steadfastness was overcome; by long looking, it began to appear harmless ;— by and bye graceful, and lastly an elegant accomplishment ! It was now, cast in your lot with us : he did so ; and as it was always a maxim with him to do whatever he did with his might ; he bent much of his attention to this, and soon became superior to most of his school-fellows. Formerly he went to the school for the sake of the singing, — now he went most for the sake of the dancing: leaving his understanding uninfluenced, it took fast hold of his passions. If prevented at any time from going, he felt uneasy, sometimes vexed, and often what is called cross: his temper in such cases, being rarely under his own control. His own opinion of the whole of this business may be best told in his own words. " Mala. Ave, when about 12 or 13 years of age, I learned to dance. I long resisted all solicita- tions to this employment, bat at last I suffered myself to be overcome ; and learnt, and profited beyond most of my fellows. I grew passionately fond of it, would scarcely walk but in measured, time, and was constantly tripping, moving, and shuffling, in all times and places. I began now to value my- self, which, as far as I can recollect, I had never thought of before ; I grew impatient of control, was fond of company, wished to mingle more than I had ever done, with young people ; I got also a passion for better clothing, than that which fell to my lot in life, was discontented when I found a neighbour's son dressed, better than myself. I lost the spirit of subordination, did not love work, imbibed a spirit of idle- ness, and in short, drunk in all the brain-sickening effluvia of pleasure ; dancing and company took the place of reading and study ; and the authority of my parents was feared in- deed, but not respected ; and few serious impressions could prevail in a mind imbued now with frivolity, and the love of pleasure; yet I entered into no disreputable assembly, and in no one case, ever kept any improper company ; I formed no 80 THOUGHTS ON DANCING. illegal connection, nor associated with any whose characters were either tarnished or suspicious. Nevertheless, dancing was to nie a perverting influence, an unmixed moral evil : for although hy the mercy of" God, it led me not to depravity of manners, it greatly weakened me moral principle, drowned the voice of a well instructed conscience, and was the first cause of impelling me to seek my happiness in this life. Every thing yielded to the disposition it had produced, and every thing was absorbed by it. I have it justly in abhorrence for the moral injury it did me ; and I can testify, (as far as my own observations have extended, and they have had a pretty wide range,) I have known it to produce the same evil in others that it produced in me. I consider it therefore, as a branch of that worldly education, which leads from heaven to earth, from things spiritual to things sensual, and from God to Satan. Let them plead for it who will ; I know it to be evil, and that only. They who bring up their children in this way, or send them to those schools where dancing is taught, are consecrating them to the service of Moloch, and cultivating the passions, so as to cause them to bring forth the weeds of a fallen nature, with an additional rankness, deep rooted inveteracy, and inexhaustible fertility. Nemo sobrius saltat, 'no man in his senses will dance,' said Cicero, a heathen : shame on those Christians who advocate a cause by which many sons have hecome profligate, and many daughters have been ruined." Such was the experience of A. Clarke in dancing, and such was his opinion of the practice. Against this branch of fashionable education he, on all proper occasions, lifted up his voice. Many years after this he wrote a paper on the subject, which was inserted in vol. xv. of the Arminian Magazine ; this was in conse- quence of an attempt made to bring it into the boarding schools of the Methodists. Under the influence of this de- praving practice, A. C. did not long continue : in less than two years it began and terminated with him. It was now high time to think of casting his lot for life. At first he Avas designed for the Ministry ; and lie himself wished it, without knowing what he desired. But the circumstances of the family, there being now seven children, two sons and five daughters, rendered it impracticable to maintain him at one of the Universities. That scheme therefore was dropped ; and his parents next proposed to place him with a Surgeon and Apothecary of their acquaintance : this purpose also mis- carried, when just on the eve of completion ; and, as his bro- ther had about this time finished his apprenticeship, and gone to sea, the family began to think that it would be best for them to retain at home, this, their only remaining son, that he might assist his father in the school, and succeed him when it should please God to render him unfit for the employment. This ACCIDENTS. 61 was no lure to Ailam's mind ; lie saw plainly that his father had much trouble, with great labour and anxiety, for very small gains. And besides, it was not a line of life for which he had ever felt any predilection. How his lot was afterwards de- termined will shortly appear. It may be necessary in this place to mention two accidents, both of which had very nearly proved fatal to young Clarke. Having occasion to bring home a sack of grain from a neigh- bouring village ; it was laid over the bare back of his horse, and to keep it steady, he rode on the top ; one end being much heavier than the other, he found it difficult to keep it on: at last it preponderated so much, that it fell, and he under it ; his back happened to come in contact with a pointed stone : he was taken up apparently dead ; a person attempted to draw some blood from his arm, but in vain, none would flow, and his face, neck, &c. turned quite black. He lay insensible for more than two hours, during the greater part of which time, he was not known even to breathe, so that all said he is dead. He was brought near the fire and rubbed with warm cloths ; at length a plenteous flow of blood from the orifice in his arm, was the means of promoting that respiration which had been so long obstructed. All had given him over for dead, and even now that he began to breathe, but with an oppressive sense of the acutest pain, few entertained hopes that he could long survive this accident. In about 24 hours it was thought that he might in an easy chair be carried home, which was about a mile distant. He however utterly refused to get into the chair, but while the men carried it, held it with his right hand, and walked by its side, and thus reached his father's house ; and in a short time, to the great surprise of all who had wit- nessed the accident, was completely restored. Had he not been designed for matters of great and high importance, it is not likely in the ordinary course of nature he could have sur- vived this accident. The second accident had like to have proved completely fa- tal, because it happened where he could have no succour. At this time his father had removed to the vicinity of Coleraine, in the parish of Agherton, very near that beautiful strand, where the river Ban empties itself into the Deucaledonian Sea. One morning, as was sometimes his custom, he rode a mare of his father's into the sea to bathe her ; the sea was comparatively calm, the morning very fine, and he thought he might ride beyond the breakers, as the shore in that place was remarkably smooth and flat. The mare went with great re- luctance, and plunged several times ; he urged her forwards, and at last he srot beyond the breakers into the swells. A ter- rible swell coming, from which it was too late to retreat, overwhelmed both the horse and its rider. There was no person in sight, and no help at hand : the description which 82 DEATH BV DROWNING. he afterwards gave will be best knoAvn from his own words. "Tn company one day with the late Dr. Letsom, of Lon- don, the conversation turning on the resuscitation of persons apparently dead from drowning; Dr. L. said, 'Of all that 1 have seen restored, or questioned afterwards ; I never found one who had the smallest recollection of any thing that passed from the moment they went under water, till the time in which they were restored to life and thought.' Dr. Clarke answered, ' Dr. L., I knew a case to the contrary.' ' Did you indeed V ' Yes, Dr. L., and the case was my own: I Avas once drown- ed,' — and then I related the circumstances ; and added, ' 1 saw my danger, but thought the mare would swim, and J knew I could ride ; when we were both overwhelmed, it ap- peared to me that I had gone to the bottom with my eyes open. At first I thought I saAV the bottom clearly, and then felt neither apprehension nor pain ; — on the contrary, I felt as if I had been in the most delightful situation : my mind was tranquil, and uncommonly happy ; I felt as if in Para- dise, and yet I do not recollect that I saw any person ; the impressions of happiness seemed not to be derived from any thing around me, but from the state of my mind ; and yet 1 had a general apprehension of pleasing objects ; and I cannot recollect that any thing appeared defined, nor did my eye take in any object, only I had a general impression of a green co- lour, such as of fields or gardens ; but my happiness did not arise from these, but appeared to consist merely in the tran- quil, indescribably tranquil, state of my mind. By and bye I seemed to awake as out of a slumber, and felt unutterable pain, and difficulty of breathing ; and now I found I had been carried by a strong wave, and left in very shallow water upon the shore ; and the pain I felt was occasioned by the air once more inflating my lungs, and producing respiration. How long I had been under water I cannot tell : it may however be guessed at. by this circumstance : — when restored to the power of reflection, I looked for the mare, and saw her walk- ing leisurely down shore towards home ; then about half a mile distant from the place where ice were sidmerged. Now I aver, 1. That in being drowned, / felt no pain. 2. That I did not for a single moment lose my consciousness. 3. I felt indescribably happy, and though dead, as to the total suspen- sion of all the functions of life, yet I felt no pain in dyincr : and I take for granted from this circumstance, that those who die by drowning, feel no pain; and that probably, it is the easiest of all deaths. 4. That I felt no pain till once more exposed to the action of the atmospheric air ; and then I felt ^rcat pain and anguish in returning to life j which anguish, had I continued under water, I should have never felt. 5. That animation must have been totally suspended from the ATTEMPTED ROBBERY'. 83 time I must have been under water : which time might be in some measure ascertained by the distance the mare was from the place of my submersion, which was at least half a mile, and she was not, when I fust observed her, making any speed. 6. Whether there were any thing preternatural in my escape, I cannot tell : or whether a ground swell had not in a merely natural way borne me to the shore, and the retrocession of the tide, (for it was then ebbing.) left me exposed to the open air, I cannot tell. My preservation might have been the ef- fect of natural causes ; and yet it appears to be more rational to attribute it to a superior agency. Here then, Dr. L., is a case widely different, it appears,' from those you have wit- nessed : and which argues very little for the modish doctrine of the materiality oftlie soul.'' Dr. Letsom appeared puzzled with this relation, but did not attempt to make any remarks on it. Perhaps the subject itself may not be unworthy of the consideration of some of our minute philosophers." I shall relate two other remarkable accidents which occurred in his neighbourhood about this time. A neighbouring farmer, Mr. David Reed, had the reputation in the country of being extremely rich. Several attempts had been made to rob his house, but they had all failed. At last a servant, who had lately lived with him, and knew the way of the house, plotted with one Cain, a cooper, and one Digny, a schoolmaster, and a fellow of the name of M'Henry, to rob the house on a Sabbath evening. Neither of them lived in that neighbourhood : they rendezvoused in a town called Garvagh. about a mile and a half from the place, where they purchased a couple of candles. They left that about eleven o'clock at night, and concealed themselves somewhere in the fields, till about two in the morning. They then came to the house and had a consultation, which was the best method of entering. — At first they got a long ladder and reared it against the house, intending to strip off some of the thatch above the kitchen, and enter that way, as there was no flooring above it. This they afterwards gave up as too tedious, and likely to lead to a dis- covery. They were now about to abandon their design, when Digny, a man of desperate courage, upbraided them with cow- ardice; and said, " Will you resign an enterprise in which you are likely to acquire so large a booty, because there appear to be some difficulties in the way?" After a little parley, they came to the resolution to take the house by storm, and Digny agreed to enter first, by suddenly dashing the kitchen window to pieces. He stripped off his coat and waistcoat, tied a garter round each arm to confine his shirt, one about each knee to render him more firm, and one round his waist, in which he stuck his pistols, and tied a handkerchief over his face, with three holes cut in it, one for his mouth and two for his eyes. He then, in a moment, dashed the window to pieces, passed 84 ATTEMPTED KOBBEKY. through it, and leaped down from the sill, and though he alight ed on a spinning-wheel, and broke it in pieces, yet he did not stumble ! He flew in a moment to the door, unlocked it, and let two of the gang in, the fourth, M l Henry, standing without as sentry. The lock being a very good one, the bolt went back with so loud a noise as to awaken Mr. Reed, who lay in a room off the kitchen, on the same floor. A young man of the name of Kennedy, a servant in the family, lay in a room next to that of his master, only separated from it by a narrow pass- age, which divided two sets of rooms on the right and left. — Cooper Cain, and the other accomplice, went immediately to the fire, which being in that country formed of turf was raked up in its own ashes, and began t^ pull out the coals in order to light their candle. Mr. Reed having been awakened as before related, jumped out of bed, ran up the passage towards the kitchen, and cried out "Who is there?" Digny, who was standing ready with his hanger drawn, waiting for the light, which the others were endeavoring to procure, hearing the voice, made a blow at the place whence it came, but did not see that the old man had not yet passed through the door into the kitchen ; the hanger caught the bricks above the door head, broke out more than a pound weight off one of them, above the lintel, slided down, and laid Mr. Reed's right cheek open from the eye to the lower jaw. Had he been six inches more ad- vanced the blow would have cleft his head in two. The old man feeling himself wounded, sprang desperately forward and seized the assassin, who immediately dropped his hanger, which he. could no longer use, (for Mr. Reed, who was a pow- erful man, had seized him by both his arms,) closed in and grappled with Mr. R. Kennedy, who had been awake even before the window was broken, arose, and while his master and Digny were struggling in the passage, got past them, went into the kitchen where a charged gun was hanging on hooks high up on the wall, ascended a large chest, seized th< gun, which he not being able to get readily out of the hooks, with a desperate pull brought the hook out of the wall, descend- ed from the chest, squeezed by his master and the assassin, still struggling in the passage, cocked it, and was going tome, but could not discern his master from the robber. With great presence of mind he delayed till Cam and his confederate having succeeded in lighting their candle, (which they found very difficult, not having a match,) he was able to discern be- tween his master and Digny. In that moment he fired, and shot the latter through the heart, who instantly fell, and Mr. Reed on the top of him. Kennedy having discharged his piece, immediately cried out, " I have shot one of them, hand me the other gun." Cain and his accomplice hearing the report, and seeing what was done, immediately extinguished their candle, issued out at the door, and they and M'Henry fled for their lives. ATTEMPTED ROIiBEKY. 85 Though il has taken some time to describe the circumstances of this transaction, yet the Reader must not imagine that much time had elapsed from the forcible entry till the death of Digny. All these circumstances were crowded into two or three minutes. Kennedy then flew to the door, relocked it, threw chairs, tables, &c. against it and the window, reloaded his gun, into which in his hurry, he put nearly eleven inches of powder and shot, and stood ready to meet another attack. But who can describe the horrors of this family, expecting every moment a more powerful assault, none daring to go out, or open the door to seek for help, the house being at some dis- tance from the rest of the village ! There were in the house, only Mr. Reed, an aged, infirm sister, a little boy, and Kennedy the servant man. Mr. Reed, partly with the alarm, partly with the wound and consequent loss of blood, was reduced to great weakness, and his mind became so disturbed that he could scarcely believe the slain assassin who lay on the floor, was not his own servant Kennedy who had been shot by the robber. At length after several hours of the deepest anxiety, daylight returned, and brought assurance and confidence to this distress- ed family. The issue of this business was, M' Henry turned king's evidence, and the old servant was taken and handed ; but Cooper Cain fled, and was never heard of more. Digny was buried like a dog without coffin, &c. in the church-yard, but afterwards had an untimely resurrecction. One of A. C.'s school-fellows, who was then apprentice to a surgeon, came with a fellow-apprentice to the grave-yard after night, dug him up, put him in a sack, laid him across a horse, one of them riding behind to hold him on, and thus carried him to Cole- raine, a distance of twelve miles, which they reached before daylight ; and taking him to the market-house, one of the sur- geons, Mr. Ellison, opened him and gave the young men a lecture on the subject in general; after which he was buried at the foot of the rampart. Kennedy got forty pounds at the county assizes : his master put him to school for a time, and it was naturally supposed, that as he had no child he would pro- vide for him during life, but Mr. R. died soon after and left his preserver nothing! There was a circumstance in the case worthy of remark: Mr. R. had lent his gun to a man who lived several miles off: on Saturday evening, Kennedy asked liberty from his master to go and bring home the gun, which was with difficulty granted. Had not the gun been brought home that night, there is no doubt the house would not only have been robbed, but every soul murdered ; as it was evident they had intended to leave no person alive to tell tales. The second instance I have to relate, was still more melan- choly. An equestrian came to that country, and performed 86 FATALITIES, OMENS, several remarkable feats of horsemanship. He could manage the wildest horses ; and permitted people to fire off guns and pistols while practising the most dangerous positions. He had appointed a day to perform in a large open field ; multitudes went to see him, and many fired off guns during the ex- hibition. A nephew of the same Mr. Reed was on the ground, and had the same gun with him with which Digny was shot. He, supposing that it had been discharged and charged again with powder only, (whereas it had a heavy charge of duck-shot,) fired low near the horse's side, as the equestrian rode by in that part of the ring. Lieutenant Ste- phen Church, A. C.'s brother, and Mr. William Clark, one of his school-fellows, standing together in the opposite side of the ring, the principal part, of the charge entered the Lieutenant's right leg, and tore it almost to pieces. Several shot entered one of the legs of Mr. W. Clark, and A. C.'s brother had his shoe ploughed in several places, by the shot, but he was not wounded. A mortification taking place, the leg was amputated in a very unskilful manner, and the Lieutenant shortly after died. What was very remarkable in this case was ; Lieut. C. had lived what was called a gay, that is, a worldly, cure- less, life ; without, apparently, any sense of religion: from the moment he was wounded, he laid his eternal interests most deeply to heart ; and spent the interval between the ac- cident and his death, which was some weeks, in deeply mourn- ing for past errors, and in incessant prayer for redemption through the Friend of sinners. It is worthy of remark that, that gun, which was esteemed the lest in the neighbourhood, had killed Digny, killed Lieut. Church, and killed a nephew of Mr. Reed's ; — he was found in a field, where he had gone out on a fowling excursion, lying against a bank, his brains blown out, and the gun lying by his side ! This circumstance would have served for a place in the Mistdlaides of Sir John Aubrey, who might suppose that fa- talities were attached to particular instruments, as well as to particular places and limes. Shortly after Lieutenant Church received his wound, his brother, George Church, Esq., a gentleman of very large estates, was killed by a fall from his horse. Previously to these two disasters, strange noises were heard in the mansion- housf; called the Grove. The doors were said to have opened and shut of themselves ; sometimes all the pewter dishes, &<■. on the dresser in the kitchen, were so violently agitated as lo appear to have been thrown down on the floor, though no- thing was moved from its place. Sometimes heavy treading was "heard where no human being was ; and often, as if a person had fallen at whole length on the floor, above the kitchen ! A. C. sat up one whole night in that kitchen, dur- ing Lieut. Church's indisposition, and most distinctly heard FAIRIES ETC. H7 the above noises, shortly before Mr. G. Church was killed by the fall from his horse. After the death of the two brothers, these noises were heard no more ! What was the cause of the noises was never discovered. While on the subject of omens, it may not be improper to notice the opinion concerning Fairies, then so prevalent in that country. It is really astonishing how many grave, sober, sensible, and even religious people, have united in asserting the fact of their existence ! and even from their own personal knowledge, as having seen, or heard, or conversed with them ! At a near neighbour's, according to the report of the family, was their principal rendezvous in that country. The good woman of the house declared in the most solemn manner to Mrs. Clarke, that a number of those gentle people, as she termed them, occasionally frequented her house ; that they often conversed with her, one of them putting its hands on her eyes, during the time, which hands she represented, from the sensation she had, to be about the size of those of a child of four or five years of age ! This good woman with her whole family, were worn down with the visits, conversations, &c. &c. of these generally invisible gentry. Their lives were almost a burthen to them ; and they had little prosperity in their secular affairs. But these accounts were not confined to them : the whole neighbourhood was full of them, and the belief was general if not universal. From the natural curi- osity of A. C. it needs not to be wondered that he wished to see matters of this sort. He and his brother frequently sup- posed that they heard noises and music altogether unearthly. Often they have remarked that small fires had been kindled over night in places where they knew there were none the preceding day ; and at such sights, it was usual for them to say to each other, The fairies have been here last night. Whatsoever may be said of such imaginings and sights, though not one in a million may have even the shadow of truth, yet sober proofs of the existence of a spiritual world, should not be lightly regarded. We may ridicule such ac- counts, till the Holy Scriptures themselves may come in for their share of infidel abuse. S8 SUMMAKY Or KIU.KUON. BOOK II. I come now to the most important part of A. C.'s life, — that in which he began to perceive the importance of pure and undefiled Religion : and in which he began to discern and relish the power of divine truth. It is not to be supposed that there can be any great variety in the experience of religious people. Repentance, faith, and holiness, are unchangeable in their nature, and uniform in their effects. Religion has to do with one. God, one Mediator, one sacrifice; it recommends one faith, enjoins one baptism, proclaims one heaven, and one hell. All these are unchangeable botii in their nature and their effects. One Gospel is the fountain whence all these things are derived ; and that Gospel being the everlasting Gospel. was, is, and will be, the same, from its first publication, till time shall be no more. Novelty, therefore, on such subjects, cannot be expected : he who has read the conversion and re- ligious experience of one sensible man, has, in substance, read that of ten thousand. Yet still it is a subject of laudable curiosity to know, how a mind such as that of Adam Clarke's became first enlightened ; on what grounds he first received that religious creed of which he was afterwards so powerful an advocate ; and why he be- came so decisively attached to that body of religious people in whose communion he still remains. We have already noticed the bringing up of A. C. and the rare that a religious mother took of the spiritual concerns of her children ; and the good effects of that education, in opening their minds to religious truth, and keeping their hearts susceptible of divine impressions. We have also seen, what effects this produced on the mind of Adam in particular, filling his heart with the fear of God, a deep reverence for the Bible, and the most cordial approbation of the principles of Christianity in general. We are now to witness the vegeta- tion of that seed which was cast into a soil which God had fitted for its reception; where it took deep root, and brought forth such fruits as gave no equivocal evidence of a thorough scriptural conversion. lie had hitherto sat principally under the ministry of the Rev. W. Smith, of Miliburn, near Cole- raine, Rector of the parish of Agherton. He was a good man, full of humanity and benevolence, and preached, as far as he knew it, most conscientiously, the Gospel of Christ ; but on FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE METHODISTS. 89 the doctrine of justification Inj faith, or the way in which a sinner is to be reconciled to God, he was either not very clear, or was never explicit. He was fond of Adam because he was almost the only person who assisted the clerk in the Church service, and especially the singi?ig. Besides his general attendance at church with his father, Adam occasionally went to the Presbyterian meeting-house, where the trumpet gave a very uncertain sound, as both pastor and people were verging closely on Socinianism. A general forgetfulness of God prevailed in the parish ; which, as to re- ligious matters, was divided between the Church and the Pres- byterians : and there was scarcely a person in it, decidedly pious, though there were several that feared God, and but few that were grossly profane or profligate. In that parish there was not one Roman Catholic family. The state of experi- mental religion was very low, though there were still some old people who talked about the godliness of their ancestors; and seemed to feel no small satisfaction, and even spiritual safety, in being able to say We have Abraham for aw father. Even Mrs. Clarke, for the want of the means of grace, and the doctrine that is according to godliness, had lost ground, and began to be remiss in her domestic practice of piety. The place needed reformation, but faithful reprovers were wanting; — like the foolish virgins, they were all either slumbering or sleeping, and it required a voice like the midnight cry, to awake them. This voice, God, in his endless mercy, shortly sent. About the year 1777, the Methodist preachers, who had been for some time established in Coleraine, visited the parish of Agherton. Of this people A. C. had never before heard, except once from a paragraph in a newspaper, where it was re- marked as a singular thing, and well worthy of notice, that — " A Methodist preacher, ministering in the open air, to a large congregation, a heavy shower of rain falling, the people began to disperse to seek shelter in their houses, which the preacher observing, told them that 'rain was one of the chief blessings of God's providence, that without it there could be neither seed time, nor harvest, nor indeed any green thing on the face of the earth : and will you,' said he, 'fly from the gift of God?' The people felt the reproof, gathered more closely together, and though the rain continued to descend, heard patiently and pi- ously to the end of the discourse." One evening, after school hours, a young gentleman, one of A. C.'s school-fellows, came to him, and surprised him by say- ing " Come, Adam, let us go to Ihirnside, there is a Methodist preacher to be there this evening, and wc shall have nice fun." Now, although Adam was sufficiently playful, and was always ready to embrace any opportunity for diversion and amuse- ment, yet he was puzzled to understand how preaching and !HJ FIBfiT ACO.UAI.NTANCE WITH THE METHODISTS. •playing could be associated ; or how a time set apart for dr. votion, could be proper for amusement; for he had been always taught to bold preaching in reverence, whether he heard it in the church, or in the Presbyterian meeting. He engaged however to go, yet without the slightest expectation of the promised diversion. He went accordingly, and found many people assembled in a barn : in a short time the preacher en- tered, a plain, serious looking man, but widely different in his dress, from any clerical gentleman he had ever before seen. His name was John Brettel; he was many years a very re- spectable itinerant preacher among the Methodists, as was also his brother Jeremiah, and sprung from a very respectable family in Birmingham. A. C. fixed his eyes upon him, and was not at all surprised with his first sentence, which was this, " I see several lads there, I hope they will be quiet and behave well ; if not, they shall be put out of the house." As Adam expect- ed no diversion, he was not disappointed by this declaration. He did not recollect the text, and the discourse did not make any particular impression on his mind : but he was rather sur- prised by the following assertion, " The Westminster divines," said the preacher, " have asserted in their Catechism, that no mere man, since the fail, can keep God's commandments : but doth daily break them, in thought, word, and deed: but the Scriptures promise us salvation from all our sin : and I must credit them in preference to the Westminster divines." Adam had learned his Catechism, as before stated, and had given implicit credence to this assertion : but he reasoned thus with himself, " If the Scriptures say the contrary, certainly 1 should believe the Scriptures in preference to the catechism." After preaching was ended, Mr. Brettel went into the man's house, whose barn he had occupied, and several people fol- lowed him, and among the rest, young Clarke. He talked much on the necessity of Repentance, Faith, Holiness, &c. ; and exhorted the people to turn to God with all their hearts, and not to defer it. This second meeting broke up in about half an hour, and the preacher and his friends returned to Coleraine. There was with him, among others, Mr. Stephen Douthitt, well known in Coleraine, as an irreproachable pat- tern of practical Christianity ; and an ornament to the Metho- dist's society in that place, for nearly half a century. On his return to his father's house, Adam reflected a good deal on the man, his manner, and his conversation. And thought, if these people talk so continually about religion, both in public and private, they must have a painful time of it. The next week Mr. B. came to another part of the neigh- bourhood, and Adam went to hear him : his text was, Behold, J stand at the door and, knock ; if any man hear my voice and open the door, Iwill com,eintohim,andv?illsupwithhim, and he with me. — Rev. iii. 20. He pointed out the vnrioug INCREASING KNOWLEDGE OF RELIGION. 91 methods which God used in order to awaken and alarm im- penitent sinners ; and the dreadful consequences of slighting, resisting, or neglecting these calls, — ruin final and eternal must be the inevitable consequence ; " but God," said he, " always fires the warning cannon before he discharges the murdering piece?" This was the last time he heard Mr. Brettel : other preachers succeeded him in Coleraine, and oc- casionally visited Agherton, and most of the neighbouring towns and villages; and when they were within his reach, A. C. attended their ministry. At length that truly apostolic man, Mr. Thomas Barber, came to the place ; and with in- defatigable diligence and zeal went through all the country, preaching Christ Crucified, and Redemption through his Blood ; in dwelling-houses, barns, school-houses, the open air, &c. &c; and many were awakened under his ministry. Mrs. Clarke, Adam's mother, went to hear, and immediately pronounced, vas taught to watch its openings, and make the best of his circumstances. " Happy was he, That could translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a still." The knowledge of hard words in those sciences, he obtained from a very useful, but now almost unknown work, entitled, Dictionarum Anglo Britannicuvt, or, A General English Dictionary : by John Kersey, 8vo. Lond. 1715. A Dictionary yhich contains more valuable matter for students, than any vther of its size yet offered to the public. The Dictionary of J'enj. Martin, which he afterwards got, was also very useful. This latter work he always considered, for correctness of ety- mology, and accuracy of definition, by far the best on its plan, before or since published. But we must leave him as to his literary pursuits, for a while, that we may see him labouring to promote the best interests of his own family, his neighbours, and his school-fellows. Except on the Lord's Day, family prayer was not observed in his lather's house. This was, to him, a cause of great ilfliction. He laboured to get it established ; but all in vain, • nless himself would officiate ! This he found a cross which :ie feared he should never be able to take up, or, if taken up, be able to bear. His youth was his principal hinderance. This burthen, however, it appeared God had laid upon his con- science. He struggled against it for a while, till he felt con- demned in his own mind. At last be took up this, to him, tremendous cross, and prayed with his father, mother, and family: they were highly pleased; and as long as he was ruler their roof, he was, in this respect, their chaplain: yet, he ever felt it a cross, though God gave him power to bear it. A prayerless family has God's curse. If the parents will not perform family prayer, if there be a converted child in the THE FAMILY BECOME METHODISTS. 109 family, it devolves on him : and should he refuse, he will soon lose the comforts of religion. The conversation of Adam, made a serious impression on all the family. The fear of God spread more generally through the whole than ever : the Scriptures were more care- fully read ; and private prayer was. not neglected. At the same time the practice of piety became the proof of the preva- lence of religious principles in each. His fourth sister, Han- nah, entered the Methodist's society with him, and was a long time his only companion in the family. Adam and this sister were often accustomed to walk in the fields and talk about God and their souls ; and then retire for prayer to God. This young woman was afterwards married to Mr. Thomas Exley, M. A., of Bristol, and bore him several children ; and died happy in God. Her children all became pious. The next fruit of his labour, was his eldest sister. She was a cautious sensible woman ; and did not join the society, till she was thoroughly convinced of the truth of their doctrines, and the excellency of their discipline. She afterwards mar- ried the Rev. W. M. Johnson, LL. D., Rector of St. Perrans- Uthno, in Cornwall. She is still living, and has a numerous family. All the rest of the family became constant hearers of the Methodists ; and most of them members of the society : but as he, soon after the period of which we are now speaking, removed from that country, he did not witness all the results of his own labours. His parents continued to entertain the Methodist Preachers, while they lived: and most of their children who were settled in life/have had the same honour. With his school-fellows, A. C. was not inactive. When he had opportunity, he spoke to them concerning their salva- tion, and incited them to hear the Methodist Preachers. One, Andrew Coleman, who was much attached to him, heard and became deeply in earnest for his salvation. He was a young man of fine natural parts, and a good scholar. He afterwards became an itinerant preacher among the Methodists : but his race, though it promised to be luminous, was very short : for in consequence of lying in a damp bed, he had a premature and deeply regretted death. His school-fellow, Adam, wrote a short account of him, which was published in the Methodist Memorial; and as it is strictly connected with the present nar- rative, and contains some curious information, I shall here in- sert it. u Andrew Coleman was born in Coleraine, in the north of Ireland, of very respectable parents. As he appeared to have a more than ordinary taste for learning, he was put to school at an earlv age, and soon made great progress in reading and ' 10 110 ACCOUNT OF ANDREW COLEMAN. merchants' accompts. He was afterwards removed to a gram- mar-school, where he profited beyond all his fellows. None of his own standing, could keep pace with him ; and he out- stripped many who had begun their classical course long be- fore him. He soon became master of the Latin and Greek languages, and made considerable progress in Hebrew. To these studies he joined geometry, astronomy, chronology, his- tory, and most branches of the mathematics. As he was re- markably blest with an amazingly comprehensive mind, and vigorous retentive memory, he fathomed the depth of every study, and could not be contented with a superficial know- ledge of any subject. The acquisition of useful learning was more to him than his necessary food ; and he neglected no opportunity of cultivating his mind. Whatever he read he made his own ; and whatever he learned, he retained ; so that his stock of knowledge was continually increasing. " Owing to the straitened circumstances of his parents, (who had been reduced to great want, from a state of con- siderable affluence,) he was, in general, unable to procure those books which were necessary in his particular studies ; so that in many cases he was obliged to explore his way in the regions of science without any other light or guide than that which the Father of Lights had kindled in his own mind. But notwithstanding this disadvantage, to which might be added, his very delicate constitution, and his being often obliged to work hard to purchase time to attend his school, he attained to such a pitch of mental cultivation before his 17th year, as few have been able to acquire in the course of a long life. " Having finished his classical studies, he was obliged to take up a little school in order to procure himself the neces- saries of life, as the impaired state of his parents' circumstances did not permit him to hope for any assistance from that quarter. What he acquired by his -labours in this way, he gave for the support of his family, and often went whole days without food that he might help to support those from whom he received his being. This he considered as one of his first duties; and he discharged it to the uttermost of his power. " About the year 1778, it pleased God to awaken and bring to the knowledge of the truth, one of his school-fellows, Mr. A. C., now one of our travelling preachers. Asa very tender friendship subsisted between those two, they often spoke to- gether of the things of God, and attended the ministry of Mr. Thomas Barber, who was acting as a Missionary at his own cost, and emphatically performing the work of an Evan- gelist through an extensive tract of country near the sea- coasts of the county of Antrim. His mind was soon found to be very susceptible of divine impressions — it became gradually enlightened : and having earnestly sought redemption in the ACCOUNT OF ANDREW COLEMAN. Ill blood of the cross, he received it, to the unspeakable joy of his soul. " After some time he was employed as a class-leader, and at the entreaties of several, began to exhort in different country places in the vicinity of Coleraine. Being naturally very timid, it was some time before he could be prevailed on to take a text ; and when he at last submitted his own judgment to that of his friends, and began to preach, his word met with universal acceptance. " In July 1785, he was well recommended to the Dublin Conference as a fit person to travel. He was accordingly received on trial, and sent to the Sligo Circuit. He was in the 18th year of his age, and nearly six feet high, the rapid growth of his body appearing to keep pace with that of his mind. But it was soon found, he had passed the meridian of his life. The circuit to which he was sent, was a severe one — he la- boured to the uttermost of his power, and in about nine months he fulfilled his course, having fallen into a rapid consumption. He returned to his mother's house a short time before the en- suing Conference ; and though every assistance was afforded him by the amiable Society of Coleraine, and the affectionate family in which he received his education, he sunk apace, and having suffered awhile with the utmost patience and resigna- tion, he fell asleep in Jesus, June 18th, 1786, aged 18 years and two months, and soon gained the blessed region where the inhabitant shall no more say, I am sick. He had the happi- ness of seeing his mother and grandmother brought to an ac- quaintance with the truth, before his departure ; and his last words to them, as his holy soul prepared to take its flight into the eternal world, were, Follow me ! Mr. Wm. West preach- ed his funeral sermon out of doors, to an audience that no house could contain: and the high estimation in which he was held, was evinced by the many thousands who attended his remains to the grave. The funeral procession extended more than half a mile ! The evening before he died, he de- sired to be carried out in his chair to see the setting sun : his desire was complied with ; and, having beheld it awhile with pleasing emotion, till it sunk under the horizon, he observed, ' This sun has hitherto been partially obscured to me, but it shall be no more so for ever !' And about the time it began to re-enlighten that part of the earth, his happy soul soared away to the regions of glory. " To many it might appear that this amiable young man was taken away in the midst of his usefulness. But a little reflection will shew us that God's ways are all equal. He never removes any of his servants till they ha,ve accomplished the work he has given them to do. Extraordinary talents are not given merely in reference to this world. — They refer also to eternity ; and shall there have their consummation, and 119 ACCOUNT OF ANDREW COLEMAN. plentitude of employ. Far be it from God to light up such tapers to burn only for a moment in the dark night of life, and then to extinguish them for ever in the damps of death. Heaven is the region where the spirits of just men made per- fect live, thrive, and eternally expand their powers in the ser- vice, and to the glory of Him from whom they have derived their being. " The extensive learning of Mr. Coleman, was his least excellence. This indeed, he accounted but dross and dung in comparison of the excellence of the knowledge of Jesus Christ crucified. Through this, the world and all its enjoyments were crucified to him. It was this, that opened the kingdom of heaven to his soul, supported him in his sufferings, and caused him to triumph over death. " His very retentive memory has already been noted : when he was about fourteen years of age, he had the whole of the Common-Prayer by heart. He had made himself such a master of the JEneid of Virgil, and the Paradise Lost of Milton, at the same age, that on the mention of any line in either of those poems, he could immediately tell the book in which it occurred, and the number of the line! His natural disposition was uncommonly amiable. — His own excellences were so deeply hidden from himself, that the foot of pride never appeared to come against him. He was a steady friend, and a most affectionate and dutiful child. His manner, both in preaching and conversation, was plain and artless. He humbled himself at the feet of all : and the invariable lan- guage of his heart, both to God and man, was What, J know not, that teach thou, me."* For the salvation of his neighbours Adam Clarke felt an ardent concern : he spoke to each of them concerning spiritual things as often as he had opportunity — went to the houses of several, and wherever it was acceptable, prayed with them, and read a portion of the Holy Scriptures, and endeavoured to expound those portions which best suited the state of their minds. He did not confine his labour to his immediate neighbourhood, but went several miles into the country, in all directions, ex- horting and beseeching the people to turn to God. In such work he spent the whole of the Sabbath. Often he had to travel four, six, and more miles on the Sabbath morning to meet a class. As those classes generally met about eight o'clock in the morning, he.was obliged in the winter season, to set out * The above account of his early friend was written by Dr. Clarke for the " Methodist Memorial." FIRST PREACHING. 113 two hours before daylight ; and frequently in snow, rain, frost, &c. ; nor did any kind of weather ever prevent him from taking these long journeys. Having the love of God shed abroad in his heart, he loved the souls of men, and found no difficulty in obedience : — " Love feels no load." Obedience is painful only to him who has not the love of God in his soul. In the summer time, after having met one of those distant classes, it was his custom to go to the top of some mountain or high hill ; and, having taken a view of the different villages which lay scattered over the lower country, arrange them in his mind, proceed to that which was nearest, walk into it, and enter the first open door ; and, after accosting the inhabitants with Peace be to this house, ask them if they were willing he should pray with them ? When they consented, he then in- quired whether they had any objection to call in a few of their neighbours ? When this was done, he generally gave out a verse of a hymn, sung it, and then gave them an exhortation, prayed with them, and departed to another village, pursuing the same method. It is remarkable that, in no case was he ever refused the permission he sought. He was very young, and this, with his very serious deportment, and the singularity of his conduct, made in all cases a powerful impression in his favour, which his prayers and exhortations never failed to in- crease. On this plan he has in the course of one day, visited nine or ten villages at considerable distances from each other, and from his own home ; and spoke publicly as many times ! In these excursions he never went to those villages where the Methodists had established preaching; but to those principally which had no helper; lying at a considerable distance as they generally did from places of public worship. This was sore travail, as, besides speaking so many times, he has walked above twenty miles, and often had little if any thing to eat. But he went on his way rejoicing, and could always sing — " When I do my Master's will, I carry my heaven about me still." Though, as we have seen, he was never expert at figures, yet ne wished to learn some of the more ornamental branches of the mathematics ; and for this end his father placed him under the care of a very eminent mathematician in Coleraine. He continued with this gentleman only long enough to learn Dial- ling in a general way : I mention this circumstance, because the last secular act of his life, by which he endeavored to gain his bread, was performed in this science. An acquaintance, Mr. S. H. desired A. C. to make him a horizontal brass dial for his garden. Adam provided the brass, laid on the lines, engraved it himself, and charged for the instrument Jive shil- lings! He called, for this moderate compensation for his skill and labour two or three times ; and the last, just before he left 10* Ill CONTINUED STUDIED. the kingdom: but he never received the cash. He had made several before, for small profits : this last terminated all his opera! ions in gnomonics. About the winter of 1778 he attempted to learn French. There was no person in the neighbourhood that could help him in the language. Mr. Edward Murphy, of great emi- nence as a classical teacher, and who (hen kept his school in the church of Desart Martin, not far from Magherafelt, was the only person who could teach the language in that country. He went thither, lodged with a friend, several miles from the place, attended Mr. Murphy's school, walking out every morn- ing and back every night, in the depth of winter, and sat in the cold church without fire, during the day. This was severe work ; but in no case did ever A. C. find a royal road to any point of knowledge, or branch of learning. Adam had often amused himself with making short hymns, and turning several of the Psalms of David into metre. He once even undertook Solomon's Song; and turned the four first chapters into stanzas of four lines, eights and sixes ! but no fragments of these early productions remain, or can be recovered. When his judgment became a little more ma- tured, he devoted his rhyming hours to much better purposes, and paid no attention to the truit of his juvenile attempts in this line, for which he entertained no kind of respect, but merely as they were proofs of a pious and sincere mind. He was put apprentice to Mr. Francis Bennet, a linen mer- chant of Coleraine ; and a distant relative of his own, with every prospect of secular advantage. This was in opposition to the opinion of all his religious friends; who were fully per- suaded that God had called him to a diiferent employment. His parents, however, not being able, as has already been shewn, to put him in the regular ministry, thought an ap- prenticeship with Mr. Bennet, on the advantageous ground which his kindness caused him to propose, was a direct open- ing of Providence, which would eventually lead to a respecta- ble competency. As to himself, he was entirely passive : as yet he knew not the design of the Lord, and his grand point was, — not to get money, but to save his soul. He went at first a month on trial ; that being ended, as much to Mr. B.'s satisfaction, as he could reasonably wish ; his pa- rents were expected to take the first opportunity to have him for- mally bound. This was strangely neglected from time to time, till at last he had been with Mr. Bennet eleven months. Dur- ing this time, his religious friends strongly and incessantly exhorted him not to enter an apprenticeship, as God had most assuredly called him to the work of the ministry. He laid these things before his parents, who gave them their most de- cided negative, and insisted on his continuance with Mr. B. This brought him into great perplexity : he had begun to DISSUADED FROM ENGAGEMENT IN TRADE. 116 doubt whether the business was such a one as would well comport with his spiritual profit. He thought he saw several things in it that he could hardly do with a clear conscience ; and particularly he saw that he must necessarily be much ex- posed to public company, in attending fairs and markets, in order to purchase the linen from the weavers. A clear con- science he thought would be better than the best inheritance ; and he was perfectly willing to earn his bread with the sweat of his brow at the most laborious and servile employment, rather than gain thousands with the prospect of suffering spi- ritual loss. Mr. John Bredin, an eminent minister of God, was then on the Coleraine and Londonderry circuit. He paid much at- tention to Adam, lent him books, and took considerable pains to instruct him in the most important matters, and to cultivate his mind. He, supposing that God had called him to the work of the ministry, wrote concerning him to the late Rev. J. "Wesley ; who kindly offered to take him for a time to his great school, at Kingswood, near Bristol ; where he might in- crease his classical knowledge, have the opportunity of exer- cising his ministerial talents in the various societies in that neighbourhood, and thus be better qualified for the general work of the ministry. This he laid before his parents, who received the proposal rather with indignation than with mere dissatisfaction ; and entered a strong protest against it. At the same time Mr. Bennet made him a very advantageous offer : told him if he did not like his business he would ad- vance him money, either to be employed in some business at home, or to trade in Irish produce, (butter, hides, and tallow,) to England. This proposal he diligently concealed from his parents, as his mind now strongly led him to embrace the proposal of Mr. Wesley, and to go to England. He accord- ingly thanked Mr. Bennet for his kind offer, but told him that he had made up his mind to quit the business : and in a short time they parted in a state of friendship and affectionate at- tachment, which has continued to the present day. Before I conclude this part of my narrative, I must mention some circumstances which took place while he was with Mr. Bennet. On many accounts his residence in Coleraine was highly useful to his religious growth, and his increase in useful knowledge; though he had some trials of the most distressing kind. He had now the opportunity of sitting under a very instructive and powerful ministry, several times in the week ; and conversing with a deeply religious and sensible people. He had, and enjoyed, all the means of grace. The preaching at Jive o'clock in the morning, he found peculiarly useful, because it was always on subjects immediately connected with Christian experience, and with the life of God in the lie STUDIES AND COMPANIONS. soul oi" man. He met also with some valuable and sensible friends in that most excellent society, among whom were Mr. Bobert Douthitt, from whose conversation and almost parental tenderness, he reaped the highest profit. The two Hunters, Andrew and William, cared much for his soul, and watched over him for good. He had a useful companion in Mr. John M l Kenny, whose son is now one of the Missionaries in the Island of Ceylon. Indeed the whole of that most excellent and intelligent society, laboured to promote his welfare, all believing that God had called him to fill some important office in his church. Dr. Clarke used to say, " Two books lent me by Miss Younge, of Coleraine, afterwards Mrs. Rutherford, were rendered useful to me beyond all others I had ever read, the Bible excepted. One was Mr. Wesley's Abridgment of Mr. Baxter 's Saints' Everlasting- Best, and the other the Journal of Mr. David Braiuard, Missionary among the American Indians. From the first I got a deeper acquaint- ance with experimental Christianity : and from the second I imbibed the spirit of a Missionary. The former contributed to make me a belter Christian; and the latter formed my mind to the model of the Christian Ministry. If I continue to be a Christian, I owe it, under God, to the former ; if I ever was a preacher, I owe it, under the same grace, to the latter?" On this account he always expressed the highest respect for Mrs. Rutherford : — he considered her as a mother in Israel, and as one who had been instrumental to him of great good. Mr. Rutherford's preaching was also a great blessing to him. He was a good and useful preacher, and an unblemished Christian. He was accustomed to come to the parish of Agherton, where A. C.'s father resided, and to preach in different places. Adam heard him every where; and in returning from the places of preaching, was in the habit of walking behind him, and took delight in literally treading in his steps : this was before he had any personal acquaintance with him. One evening Mr. R. noticing a little lad trotting after him, whom he had often observed at the preaching, turned about and said, " Well, child, God hath said, Hove them, that love me, and they that seek me early shall find me." He said no more, and Adam pondered these word's in his heart ; and thus reasoned on them : " What does he mean by they that seek me early ? I rise early, and my first work is prayer — is that what is meant ? No, it is they who seek God early in life — when they are young: then, thus I seek, and thus I will seek the Lord. He said also, they shall find me: others, perhaps, may seek and not find ; but God says to the young, they shall find? This gave him great en- couragement. Other preachers took no uotice of him ; pro- bably supposing that one so young, could not be expected to have much concern for his soul. Experience, however, has in- A HARDENED SINNER TURNED TO GOD. 117 disputably shewn, that the true light that lighteneth every man that cometh into the world, shines often very powerfully on infant minds : and that we cannot be too attentive to their cul- tivation, and that the best fruits may be expected from a careful management of such soils. But to return. — For several months after Adam came to Mr. Bennet's, he had a grievous crosSj not to say plague, in one of the servants. — She was excessively boisterous and profane : rejected, in the most awful manner, every good advice which was given to her ; she seemed to have an implacable enmity against Adam, because he was religious: and strange to tell, on no other ground. — Persecution about religion is rarely, if ever, the work of the human heart merely, for persecution on such an account, is as unnatural, as it is absurd. It is the two spirits that are in opposition to each other. Every genuine Christian has the spirit of God in him ; every sinner that of the devil. The latter works on all the fallen nature, on that carnal mind especially which is enmity against God ; and thus the poor miserable sin- ner is diabolically impelled to act against his own interests, often against the clear convictions of his own conscience ; and thus to war against his Maker. Sucli was certainly the case with that servant. Adam bore all her insolence and in- sults without even a complaint. " O Molly, Molly," he would say, "you will surely repent for this: why will you sin against God, and your own soul ? have I ever done you any harm ? have I even spoken one cross or unkind word to you ?" Her principal answer was, "Ah, d your Methodism ; and d the Methodists." He continued to pray strongly for her, that God might convert her soul. His prayers were at last heard: she was struck with the deepest convictions a human heart could feel, or a human mind bear. She literally roared for the disquiet of her soul. He was now obliged to use every kind of persuasive, — ransack the Bible for promises to sinners peni- tent, — to prevent her from falling into absolute despair. She was sometimes so terrified at the apprehension of God's judgments, the sinfulness of her heart, and the wickedness of her life, that she appeared to choose strangling rather than life ; and was often on the verge of laying violent hands upon herself. Her con- tinual application to him for direction and advice, was at last excessively burdensome : because her mind was so distracted, that she could scarcely profit by any. She had been a strong sinner ; and now she was arrested by a strong hand. At last, afterpassing through indescribable mental agony, she was en- abled to behold the Lamb of God which takes away the sin of the world, and found redemption in his blood, the remission of her sins. Now, indeed, the lion became a lamb. All her fierce and violent tempers were removed ; she became meek and gentle, diligent in business, and fervent in spirit serving the Lord. He saw her thirty years after this, and found her walk- 1!S METHOD OF REPROVING. ing steadily in the way that leads to the kingdom of God. Let no one despair of the salvation of even the most hardened. — This woman has since acknowledged that she has often felt the keenest twinges of conscience when she has been most violent in her contradicting and blaspheming. He had another severe cross while in this family. There was an old relative of the family, who was what is commonly called bed-ridden, and being left to the care of the servants, she was totally neglected. She had all the infirmities of old age, was very disagreeable in her manners, and crooked in her tem- pers. On these accounts, the servants, who had no religion, and little humanity, left her entirely to herself, except when they carried her a morsel of food. Adam was accustomed to go into her room every night to speak to her about her soul, and pray with her. Seeing her most deplorable and desolate state, he took upon him, after remonstrating with the maid- servants in vain, to perform for her the most humiliating ser- vices; which, with the circumstances that required them, are such as cannot be described. These he continued for several months. Death at last relieved her from life, and a load of uncommom wretchedness, and him from an oppressive load, under which nothing but the grace of God, working on a nature full of benevolence and charity, could have supported him. Known to God alone, are the services he performed for this woman, and the distress he suffered in performing them. AVith another circumstance, which took place during his residence with Mr. Bennet, this part of the narrative shall be closed. He had long held it his duty to reprove sin wherever he met with it, and indeed he could scarcely go anywhere without meeting it. His manner of reproof was the most mild and humble. If they were his inferiors, he spoke to them at once : if they were his equals or a little above, he sought to find them alone, and then affectionately mentioned the impropriety of their conduct, both as it respected God and themselves. If they were removed above him several degrees, he generally wrote to them ; always signing his name : for he could not endure the pusillanimity of shrinking under the covert of dark- ness, in order to hide himself from the cross of Christ, while endeavouring to perform what he believed to be his duty : — most took it well, and from others he never heard. This however became a heavy burden to him ; and he longed to get out of that public life where he witnessed little else than vanity, profaneness, and wickedness. His spirits were greatly worn down, and his bodily strength prostrated. The earliest entry found in his Journals relates to this; from whicli I shall make the following Extracts, as they shew the tenderness of his conscience, and the uprightness of his heart. I shall give them in his own artless phrase. EXTRACTS FROM DIARY. 119 "Sept. 17, 1781. Rose before five, went to the Barracks [a place so called, where the Methodists preached.] Came back full of heaviness, owing, I believe, to my not reproving sin; for I heard swear 1 faith'' on Sunday night. Resolv- ed to speak concerning this the first opportunity. Spoke this morning ; I believe has taken it ill. Seeing it is my duty, Lord, give me strength to persevere in it ! Though all the world should be my enemy, if God be on my side, they can- not be successful against me. Reproved two others for swear- ing, before 12 o'clock. Lord Jesus, put a stop to the tide of iniquity by which the sons of corruption are carried down the stream of sin ; and turn a pure language upon the hearts of the people ! Amen ! " Sept. 18. Rose this morning with a serene mind. Spent a considerable time in prayer. O may I be preserved this day from all the snares of the world, the flesh, and the devil, through the power of that grace which is ever ready to help me ! Amen. Read the xvth chap, of John : O may I be a lively experiencer of the blessed promises contained in it. — Christ tells us, if we abide in him. he will abide in us : and that severed from him, we can do nothing. Forbid it, gracious Lord ! that I should ever leave thee ! Then shall I not fear the power of any adversary. Reproved two or three others to day, for swearing: I dare not suffer sin upon my brother.-j— Read the xvith chap, of John : eternal praise be to the Lamb of the Most High God, for the promise — In the world ye shall have tribulation, but in me ye shall have peace. What solid comfort to the believer is contained in the 24th verse, — Hith- erto ye have asked nothing in my name: ask and ye shall re- ceive, that your joy may be full." It was the opinion of an eminent divine, that much tempta- tion, as well as prayer and reading, are necessary to make a Christian and a minister. It is requisite that he who is to be a judge of so many cases of conscience, should clearly un- derstand them. But is this possible, unless he have passed through those states and circumstances, on which these cases are founded 1 I trow not. He who has not been deeply ex- ercised in the furnace of affliction and trial, is never likely to be a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth. How can a man, unexperienced in spiritual trials, build up the Church of Christ ! That he might not trust in himself or any thing he had ac- quired, there was given him a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to buffet him. As his grand enemy could not suc- ceed in tempting him to commit outward sin, he strove with all his skill and cunning, to harass his mind ; and cause him to push the principles which regulate moral conduct beyond their natural boundaries. Fasting, abstinence, and the most solemn regard for truth, he carried to the utmost pitch of scru- 120 DISTRESSING DOUBTS. pulous observance. He became so scrupulous about his food, and practised such an excessive degree of self-denial, that he was worn down to little else than skin and bone. As he saw the world full of hollow friendships, shallow pretensions to religion, outsides of all kinds, and real substan- tial wickedness, he was led to contemplate the Almighty as the God of truth, and the God of justice. His views of him under these characters, often nearly swallowed up his soul : and the terror of the God of truth and justice made him afraid. He became doubly watchful in all his conduct: guarded the avenues of his heart, took care to do nothing for which he had not the authority of God's "Word, and the testi- mony of his conscience ; and spoke little and with extreme caution. From this he was led to analyze bis words in such a way, in order that he might speak nothing but what was in- dubitable truth ; that at last every thing appeared to him to be hypothetical, and a general system of doubtfulness in every thing relative to himself took place. This had a very awful, and indeed almost fatal, effect upon his memory, so much afraid was he lest he should say any thing that was not strictly true, and on many subjects he would not get full information, that he might no longer affirm, or deny any thing. He dis- trusted his memory and the evidence of his senses so much, that the former seemed to record transactions no longer, and the latter only served for personal preservation. When he has gone an errand, and returned, he has given in the most embarrassing account. "Adam, have you been at ?" " I think I have, Sir." "Did you see Mr. ?" " I believe I did." " Did you deliver the message ?" " I think so." " What did he say?" "I cannot say: I am not sure that he said so and so, if I have ever been there and seen him ; — and I am not sure that he did not say what I think I have just now told you." " Why, Adam, I cannot tell what you mean ! Pray be more attentive in future." After some time, the empire of doubt became so established, that he appeared to himself as a visionary being : and the whole world as little else than a congeries of ill-connected ideas. He thought at last, that the whole of life, and indeed universal nature, was a dream : he could reflect that he had what were termed dreams, and in them all appeared to be realities, but when he awoke, he found all unreal mockeries: and why might not his present state be the same ? At length he doubted whether he ever had such dreams ; whether he ever made such reflections, or whether he ever now thought or reflected ! However ideal all this may appear to the Reader, his sufferings in consequence were most distressingly real. He spoke to a particular friend on the sub- ject: he stared, was confounded, knew nothing of the matter, and could give him no advice. After suffering exquisitely, he went to one of the preachers, and began as well fie could, to DISTRESSING DOUBTS. tii lay his case before him : the Preacher said abruptly — " What, are you going mad ? — It is a shame for you to be occupied with such nonsense." He hastened away from him, and never after opened his mind to any person on the subject. In this state of distress and misery he continued for three weeks, and they appeared like centuries. He prayed much, immediately forgot that he had prayed, and went to prayer again ! He either for- got to do what he was ordered ; or forgot when he had done it that he had been thus employed, and wondered to find the work done which he had been sent to execute, though himself a little before had been the agent ! It is worthy of remark that, all this time, the being of God, and the truth of the Sacred Writings, had never become a subject of doubt. These were the foundations; had these been ideally destroyed, what could his righteous soul have done? He was sifted as wheat ; all the trials he ever came through, were nothing compared with this. Why was it suffered? Partly for his own sake, and partly for the sake of others. He ever felt from this, how so- vereignly necessary was the curb and superintendence of rea- son, to bind, control, connect and arrange the figments of imagination, and the excursions of fancy : and he found that reason itself was nothing, or nothing to be depended on, longer than it acted under the incumbent energy of the living God. This taught him the precarious nature of imagination and fancy, the excellence of reason, and the necessity of a con- tinual indwelling influence of the Divine Spirit. But, as many of the states through which he passed were, in the order of the all-wise providence of God, in reference to his ministerial character; so was this. He has often said, "I believe there is not a state, or stage of feeling or trial that any person can be in, that God has not either led me through, or permitted me to be dragged through ; insomuch, that in all my minis- terial life, and the vast multitude of cases of conscience which came before me, I never met with one that I did not under- stand ; so that I can say with the apostle, Blessed be God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort ; who comforteth us in all our tribula- tion, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. 2 Cor. i. 3, 4." But the Reader is no doubt anxious to know how this charm was dissolved ; and how the soul of this distressed young man was delivered ? It was simply as follows: — It has already been seen that he was both harassed in his mind, and per- plexed and injured in his memory : he needed a twofold help, and, when they became indispensably necessary, God sent them. While in this distracted state, he went one evening to the prayer-meeting ; for he was most punctual and consci- entious in all the means of grace. One of those who engaged 11 122 RLCOVEKV OF MEMORY. in prayer, who knew nothing of his state, was led to pray thus : — " Lord, if there be any here, against whom the ac- cuser of the brethren hath stood up, succour that soul, and cast the accuser down." Immediately he thought, " I am the person: the accuser of the brethren hath stood up, and is standing up against me : Lord, cast him down, and deliver me !" It was immediately done : he was enabled to penetrate the wiles of the seducer ; and the divine light and consolation instantly returned. How he was succoured in the ravages made on his memory will next appear. One day Mr. Bennet having desired him to do something, which he had done, but had forgotten ; and, being questioned on it, answered in his usual way of doubt- fulness, but rather from a conviction that it was undone ; Mr. B., knowing that it was done, said to him in a solemn man- ner, " Adam, you have totally lost your memory : — you are in a very deplorable state, — you have not a particle of memory remaining." With these words Adam seemed to awaken as from a deep trance. He turned his eye inwardly, saw his mind in total confusion : nothing had rule : confusion seemed con- founded by confusion — every where appeared the " Noil bene jundarum discordia semina renm." He flew to prayer, which was ever his strong hold : God shone upon his mind and gave him a renewed consciousness of his favour. He thought he would try and see whether his me- mory were impaired: he took up Mr. Blair 's Poem on the Grave, and attempted to commit to memory the first para- graph : with great labour he succeeded : but found it very difficult to recollect the lines consecutively. When he could repeat the paragraph off book, in its natural order, he thought he would not burden his mind any farther for the present, and laid down the book and went to his work. After a short time he endeavoured to repeat those lines ; but what his surprise to find them entirely fled ! Speaking on the subject, he said, "I do not recollect that I remained master of a single line ! It seemed that either every thing was effaced from my memory, or that memory itself was extinct. I took up the book again, and, after a few efforts, recovered the paragraph, with the addition of a few more lines. Went again to work, and after some time, tried my memory again, and found all gone but two or three of the first lives! I took up the book again, recovered what I had learnt, and, as before, added a few more ; and was satisfied that I could say the whole consecutively without missing a line, or indeed a word. Went to my work ; after some hours tried my memory again, and found all gone but about double the quantity of the beginning to what I had left of the last recollection. Thus I continued for some time, getting and RECOVERY OF MEMORY. 123 losing, but recollecting additionally more of the commence- ment, till at last, I could repeat in all circumstances, and after any pause, about two hundred lines. I then gave it up, and by various exertions, left my memory to acquire its wonted tone and energy by degrees : but this it never did completely. "From that day to this, my memory has been comparatively imperfect — much inferior to what it was before It could readily take in great things; not so readily small: it could perfectly recollect ideas, and general description, but not the particular words: could give the substance of a conversation at any time, and almost at any distance of time, but not the particular terms used in that conversation : — and so of read- ing. To bring it to what it is, required strong and frequent exercise : but there is a certain point beyond which it has refused to go, or I have not had skill or patience enough to carry it. But this imperfection in relation to verbal minutice. I consider a wise dispensation of a kind Providence. Had my memory been as circumstantially perfect, as it once was, I should no doubt have depended much on it, less on God, and perhaps neglected the cultivation of my understand- ing and judgment. In a word, I should have done probably what many eminent memorists have done, especially some preachers, 1 meanly stole the words from my neighbours ;' being able to repeat verbatim, the sermon I had read, or that which I had heard ; and delivered it in the pulpit as if it were my own ; and this might have at least led me to ' Deal in the wretched traffic of a truth unfelt.' I have been therefore obliged to depend much on the continual assistance of God in my ministerial labours, and cultivate my judgment and understanding to the uttermost of my power : for I never dared to expect the divine assistance and unction so essentially necessary to me, unless I had previously exercised my judgment and understanding as far as possible. Now, strange as it may appear, from this very circumstance — the verbal imperfection of my memory — I have preached perhaps 5000 sermons, on all kinds of subjects, and on a great variety of occasions, and did not know beforehand, one single sen- tence that I should utter. And were I to preach before the king, or the two universities, I must preach in this way or not at all. " But let no man misunderstand me : I did not enter the pulpit, or take my text till I was satisfied I understood the subject, and could properly explain and reason upon it. Ac- cording to the fable in my favourite ^Esop, I whipped the horses, and set my shoulders to the wheel, and then called upon Hercules, and was sure to obtain his help." This is Dr. Clarke's own account of this solemn business; 126 HE PREACHES HIS FIRST SERMON. thirty miles, which he must walk, for there were no public conveyances of any kind in those parts. Just before he set out, early on the Monday morning, he took up his Bible and said, Lord, direct me to some portion of thy Word, that may be a subject to me of useful meditation on the way ! He then opened the book, and the first words that met his eyes were these, " Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain : that whatsoever you shall ask of the Father, in my name, he may give it you." — John xv. 16. This word gave him great encouragement, and he went on his way rejoicing. When he came to the city, Mr. Bredin desired him to go the next night, and supply his place, at a village called New Buildings, about five miles beyond Derry : — to this he agreed. " But," says Mr. B., " you must preach to the people." " I will do the best I can," says Adam, "with God's help." " But," said Mr. B., " you must take a text, and preach from it." " That I cannot undertake," said Adam. " You must and shall," said Mr. B. " I will exhort as usual, but I cannot venture to take a text." " Well, a text you must take, for the people will not be satisfied without it : a good exhortation is a Sermon, and you may as well have a text as not." To this authority he was obliged for the present to bow : — he went with rather a perplexed than a heavy heart ; but he was relieved by meeting in the course of his reading with the following words : " We know that we are of God, and the whole world lieth in wickedness." 1 John v. 19. This text he thought he well understood, went to the place, June 19th, 1782 ; took it, and after an introduction, in which he gave a general account of the Apostle John, divided it in the following way : — 1. The Apostle states that the whole world lieth in wick- edness : this 1 shall endeavour to prove from the natural and practical state of man. 2. That it is only by the power of God that men are saved from this state of corruption ; those who are converted being influenced and employed by Him : — We are of God. 3. Those who are thus converted, know it, not only from its outward effects in their lives ; but from the change made in their hearts : — We know that we are of God. The people seemed highly gratified, and gathered round him when he had finished, and entreated him to preach to them at a place a mile or two off, at five the next morning, before they went to their work : he consented, and many were gathered together to whom he explained and applied, 1 John iv. 19, We love Him because He first loved us. During this visit at Derry, he preached five times at New Buildings; and gave several exhortations in the city. After PREPARES FOR LEAVING IRELAND. 127 about a fortnight's stay he returned, and now had a strong persuasion in his own mind, that God had called him to preach His Word ; and that the verse to which he was directed, when he set out on his journey to Derry, — Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, tyc* was the evidence of the call which God had graciously given him. He felt these words, as no man could feel them, who was not in his circumstances. That he was not mistaken, the issue has most amply proved. He was now sent by God ; human authority had not yet in- terfered in his appointment. It is the prerogative of God to call and ordain his own ministers : it may be the prerogative of the church to appoint them where to labour ; though, fre- quently, this also comes by an especial divine appointment. As there was some prospect that he might soon go to Eng- land ; previously to his departure, A. C. thought it his duty to wait on the Rev. Mr. Smith, the Rector of the parish, to in- form him of his design to visit England, and request a certi- ficate. He did so ; and was as usual received with great kind- ness. On his requesting a certificate, Mr. S. said, " Write any thing you please, Adam, and I will sign it." This he de- clined, and said, " Any thing from you, Sir, will be suffi- cient:" on which Mr. S. sat down and wrote the following lines, which the Rev. Mr. Hezlet, Rector of a neighbouring parish, seeing, subscribed. Millburn, July 29, 1782. " The Bearer's father, John Clarke, M. A., has for several years kept school in the parish of Agherton, of which I am Rector ; and during that time, both he and the Bearer, Adam Clarke, have maintained a fair and exceeding good character : and I do believe the Bearer worthy of the confidence of any person who has occasion to employ, or have any intercourse or connection with him. Wm. Smith, Minister of Agherton. Robt. Hezlet, Rector of Killowen." He had not been long returned from Derry, before a letter came from Mr. Wesley to Mr. Bredin, appointing him for Eng- land, and desiring him to bring A. Clarke with him, that he might be sent direct to Kingswood school. This brought mat- ters to a crisis with his family : — they were all highly dis- pleased. His father would neither see nor speak to him ; his mother threatened him with God's displeasure, and said as be- fore, " We have brought you up with much care and trouble ; your brother is gone, your father cannot last always, you should stay with the family, and labour for the support of those who have so long supported you, and not go to be a fugitive and vagabond over the face of the earth. I believe you to be up- 128 MIS PARENTS RECONCILED right, I know you to be godly ; but remember, God has said, Honour thy father and thy mother ; that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. This is the first commandment with promise : and remember what the Apostle hath said ; Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, is guilty bf all. Now I allow that you are unblameable in your life, but you are now going to break that solemn law, Honour thy father and thy mother ; and if you do, what will avail all your other righteousness?" It would not do to reply to an aggrieved parent. All he could say was, / wish to do nothing contrary to the will of God : and in this respect I labour to keep a conscience void of offence before God and man. His poor mother was so far transported and oft her guard, that she said, " If you go, you shall have a parent's curse and not her blessing." He was thus brought into a dilemma, and had no choice but of difficulties. — He had advanced too far, to retreat safely ; and to turn back he could not with a clear conscience. He had the most decided disapprobation of his parents, and with such, expressed as mentioned above, he could not think of leaving home. Prayer was his strong hold, and to this he had recourse on the present occasion. God knew the way that he took, and appeared for him. Having gone into Cole- raine a few days on some business, he was greatly surprised on his return to find his mother's sentiments entirely changed. She had got the persuasion that God had required her to give up her son to his work: she instantly submitted, and had be- gun to use all her influence with his father, to bring him to the same mind ; nor had she exerted herself in vain. Both his parents received him on his return, with a pleasing counte- nance : and though neither said go: yet both said, we submit. In a few days he set off to the city of Londonderry, whence he was shortly to embark for Liverpool, London, or Bristol. On his departure, he was recommended by the pious society of Coleraine, to God. He had little money, and but a scanty wardrobe ; but he was carried far above the fear of want ; he would not ask his parents for any help ; nor would he intimate to them that he needed any. A few of his own select friends put some money in his purse, and having taken a dutiful and affectionate leave of his parents and friends, he walked to Derry, a journey of upwards of 30 miles, in a part of a day, found Mr. Bred in waiting, who had agreed for their passage in a Liverpool trader, which was expected to sail the first fair wind. As he was young and inexperienced, for he had not seen the world, Adam was glad that he was likely to have the com- pany and advice of his friend Mr. Bredin ; but in this he was disappointed : just as they were about to sail, a letter came from Mr. Weslev, remanding Mr. Bredin's appointment. TO HIS LEAVING IRELAND. 129 There was no time to deliberate ; the wind was fair, the ves- sel cleared out, and about to fall down the Lough ; Adam got a loaf of bread and about a pound of cheese, went instantly aboard quite alone, and the vessel set sail, Saturday, August 17, 1782. By this solemn step he had now separated himself from all earthly connections and prospects in his own country ; and went on the authority of what he believed to be a divine command, not knowing whither he was going, nor what God intended for him. They got safely down Lough Foyle into the Deucaledonian Sea, having run aground through the carelessness of the pilot, but got off in about an hour, without sustaining any damage. They passed between the Skerries, Raghery, and the main land ; doubled Fair Head, and the next morning were off the Midi of Galloway. The tide being against them, and the wind falling, they were obliged to work into Ramsey Bay, in the Isle of Man, where they staid about six hours. When the tide made, they weighed anchor, and the next afternoon got safely into Liverpool, August 19, 1782. On this passage, and some circumstances connected with it, it may be necessary to make a few remarks. The captain of the sloop was named Cunningham, a Scotch- man ; decent, orderly, and respectable in his life. With him young Clarke had frequent and serious conversation on the passage; with which Capt. C. seemed not a little pleased. The 18th was Sunday, during the whole of which they were at sea, but Adam was sick, and was obliged to keep to his bed. The captain had got FlaveVs works, and spent all his spare time on the Lord's day in reading them. — The sailors were, on the whole, orderly ; and though he had reproved them for swearing, they did not take it ill, and refrained from the prac- tice during the passage: and as they saw that the captain treated his young passenger with respect, they also treated him with the same. When they took their pilot on board, off Hoylake, they were informed that there was a hot press in the river. There were two young men, one a sailor, the other a hatter, steerage passengers, who began to fear for their per- sonal safety. The sloop entered the river, and the first object that engaged their attention was a tender, which fired a couple of guns to make the captain bring to. The sails were hauled down in a moment, and the tender lowered her boat over her side; an officer and six men entered it, andhegan to make for the sloop. The transaction now about to be recorded Dr. C. has often related. His own account is the following : — " As soon as Captain Cunningham perceived the tender, and was obliged to bring to, on her fire : he addressed himself to the passengers, and said, ' You had better go and hide your- selves in the most secret parts of the vessel, or wherever you can ; we shall have a press-gang immediately on board ; and lag IN DANGER OF BEING PRESSED. I cannot protect you.' The two young men already mention- ed, hid themselves accordingly : I said to myself, Shall such a man as I flee? I will not. 1 am in the hands of the Lord ; if He permit me to be sent on board a man-of-war. doubtless He has something for me to do there.' I therefore quietly sat down on a locker in the cabin; but my heart prayed to the God of heaven. By and bye the noise on deck, told me that the gang were come on board. Immediately I heard a hoarse voice of unholy authority, calling out, — -All you who are be- low, come up on deck !' I immediately walked up the hatch- way, stepped across the quarter-deck, and leaned myself against the gunwale. The officer went down himself and searched, and found the hatter ; but did not find the sailor. While this officer and the captain were in conversation about the hatter, who maintained that he was apprentice to Mr. , of Liverpool, one of the gang came up to me, and said to one of our sailors, 'Who have you got here? O, he's a priest, I'll warrant,' said the fellow ; adding, ' we pressed a priest yesterday, but I think we'll not take this one.' By this time the lieutenant, having ordered the poor hatter aboard of the tender's boat, came up to me, stood for some seconds eye- ing me from head to foot; he then stepped forward, took me by the right hand, fingered and thumbed it to find whether I had been brought up to the sea or hard labour, then, with au- thoritative insolence, shook it from him with a muffled exe- cration, 'D you, you'll not do.' They then returned to their boat and went off with the poor hatter. " What Briton's bosom does not burn against this infringe- ment of British liberty ? This unconstitutional attack on the liberty of a free-born subject of the Sovereign of the British Isles? While the impress service is tolerated, in vain do we boast of our Constitution. It is an attack upon its vitality, ten thousand times worse than any suspension of the Habeas Cor- pus act. Let Britons know that it is neither any part of our Constitution, nor any law of the land, whatever some venal lawyers have said, in order to make it constructively such. Nothing can be a reason for it, but that which justifies a levee cn masse of the inhabitants of the nation. It is intolerable to hear those plead for it, who are not exposed to so great a ca- lamity." Having now escaped and got safely to shore, A. C. asked the captain if he could direct him to some quiet lodging, where he might be comfortable for the night, as he intended to set off next morning for Bristol. The captain said, "You shall stay at my house; sometimes my wife takes in respectable lodgers." He went with him, and was presented with several encomiums to Mrs. C, who received him affably ; she was a decent, well-bred woman. In the afternoon, the captain ask- ed him to take a walk, and see the docks and shipping. He ARRIVES AT LIVERPOOL. ■went, but having lately escaped from a press-gang, he was afraid of getting in their way again; and to tell the truth, imagined that every ill-looking fellow he met, was one of the party. On his return to Captain Cunningham's, he was introduced to a Scotch lady who was there, a private boarder ; there was also a naval captain present. At tea, the conversation turned on religion. The strange captain professed to be a papist ; the Scotch lady took some part in the conversation, and gene- rally pledged her conscience to the truth of what she asserted. Adam was pained at this ; for, in all other respects, she ap- peared to be a well-bred and very respectable gentlewoman. He watched for an opportunity after tea, when he saw her alone, said very humbly, " Madam,, it is a pity that so decent and respectable a lady as you are, should ever use an improper word." "Pray," said the lady, surprised, "what, what do you mean 1" " Why, madam, I have noticed you several times in conversation, use the term ' upon my conscience.'' Now, madam, to you, and to every intelligent serious person, conscience must be a very sacred principle ; and should never be treated lightly ; and certainly should never be used in the way of an ordinary oath." "Why, sir," said she. "I cannot think there is any harm in it. I know very well-bred reli- gious people make no scruple of using it as I do; and I am sure I cannot be persuaded that I have been doing any thing wrong." " Well, madam, I do think it sinful ; and I rather think when you come to reflect on it, you will think so too." Thus ended the conversation. At supper the lady said, "Mrs. Cunningham, this young man has been reproving me for saying, 'upon my conscience.'' Now, I never thought that to be a sin : and sure Mrs. C. you know, as well as I, many good people who make no scruple of saying it." There was some silence, and then A. C. gave his reasons why he thought it, and all such words, thus used, to be sinful. Captain C. and Mrs. C. seemed to nod consent. The strange Captain said, " Sir, as I am a Catholic, I believe that when the priest has consecrated the bread and wine in the Lord's Supper, nothing of those elements remains, they are totally and sub- stantially changed into the bodv, blood, life, and divinity of Jesus Christ. Have you any thing to say against that ?" " O yes, sir," said Adam, " I have much to say against it ;" and then began and argued largely to shew the doctrine un- scriptural, and to prove it absurd. The captain then asked him what he had to say against the invocation of saints, and the worshipping of images? He gave his reasons at large against these also. Purgatory, was next produced ; Auricular Confession ; and the priests' power to forgive sins. All these were considered : and, if one might dare to say so, of so young a person, they were all confuted from Scripture and 132 JOURNEY TO BIRMINGHAM. reason. But the last tenet gave him an opportunity to turn to the subject generally, to speak concerning the nature of sin, and the fallen condemned state of man ; and that, since no human nor angelic being could forgive offences not committed against themselves, but against another, it followed that He only against whom they were committed could forgive them ; and, as all had sinned and come short of the glory of God, il He did not forgive them, doubtless they must sink those who had committed them into the gulf of endless perdition. He shewed also, that reconciliation with God was impossible from any thing that the sinner could either do or suffer ; and that there was no hope of salvation to any man, but through the great sacrificial offering made by Christ Jesus. " But this," said he, "becomes effectual to no man who is not a true and deep penitent, and does not implicitly believe in that Atoning Sacrifice, as offered to Divine Justice for him, as a sufficient sacrifice, offering, atonement, and satisfaction for his trans- gressions." While discoursing on these subjects, God gave him uncommon power and freedom of speech : his little audi- ence had their eyes intently fixed upon him ; tears began to drop on their cheeks, and the half-smothered sob, gave strong indications of the state of their minds : perceiving this, he said, let us pray ! and, suddenly dropping on his knees, in which he was immediately followed by all present, he prayed with such fervour and energy that all were in tears ; and God seemed to work mightily in every mind. What were the effects of this night's conversation and prayer, will be found perhaps only in the great day. The next morning he called on a Mr. Ray, of Cleaveland square, to whom he was introduced by a person from London- derry, whom he had accidentally met in the street. Mr. Ray invited him to stay to breakfast, and dissuaded him from what he had fully intended to do — viz. to go on foot from Liverpool to Bristol, a journey of nearly 200 miles. Mr. Ray sent his young man with him to the coach-office, where he took an out- side place to Birmingham, in what was then called the Fly, one of the first of the stage coaches, carried six wsides, as many outsides as they could stick on ; and these, together with enor- mous boot and basket, filled with luggage, made it little infe- rior to a wagon in size, and not a great deal superior to one in speed. It might safely be ranked among the tarda volrentia plaustra; for, though they left. Liverpool at seven p. m. (Aug. 21,) they did not arrive in Birmingham before the following evening. Before he left Captain Cunningham's he inquired forhis bill ; and was answered by Mrs. C, " No, sir, you owe nothing here ; Capt. C, myself, and all the family, are deeply in your debt. — You have been a blessing to our house ; and, were you to stay longer, you would have no charges. We shall be concerned to JOURNEY TO BIRMINGHAM. 133 hear how you get to the end of your journey ; therefore, pray write to us when you get to Kingswood." This free lodging, though it suited his pocket, did not. suit his disposition : for all through life he admired and enforced those words of our Lord, It is more blessed to give than to re- ceive. He departed, earnestly praying that God would re- member that family for good, for the kindness they had shewn to a poor stranger in a strange land. His company on this day's journey was various, particularly on the outside, for they were frequently changed ; most of them going only a short distance. Those within were of another description, and A. C. became acquainted with them in the following manner : — a young gentleman belonging to the party, chose to take a stage on the outside, in order to see the country. He was gay and giddy and soon proved that he feared not an oath. A. C. asked him if he did not think it very improper to make use of such words ? " What," said he, " are you a Presbyterian 1" — " No. sir," said Adam, " I am a Methodist." This provoked his risibility in an uncommon degree ; and he made it the foundation of a great deal of harmless, but rather foolish wit. When he went inside, he told his tale in his own way, and this excited the curiosity of his companions to see this strange creature. A well-behaved gentleman put his head out of the coach window, and said, " Pray tell the young lad in the blue coat, to come into the inside for a stage, one of us will change places with him." Adam replied, " I thank you, sir, I prefer the seat where I now am." He repeated his request, and had the same answer. When the coach stopped, a lady urged him to comply ; but the risibility of the young gentleman not having as yet received its sedative, A. C. still refused. — The lady pressed him, and said, " Why, sir, should you refuse our company?" — "Why, madam," said he, "I think mine cannot be very agreeable to you." She answered, " Sir, you must come in ; this young gentleman ii ill take your place, and you will do us good." He at last consented. They questioned him about his religion ; where he was going, &c. &c, and they were so well pleased, that they requested him to go with them round by London, and they would cheerfully pay his fare, and maintain him on his way. This did not seem to him to lie in the line of Providence, and therefore, with due expressions of obligation, he refused the proffered kindness. The coach stopped for dinner at Litchfield, and they obliged him to sit at table with them, and would not permit him to be at any expense. The gentleman was learned ; and was pleased to find that his young acquaintance could converse with him out of Virgil and Horace, and was also well acquainted with all the doc- trines of the gospel of Christ. In discoursing on that confi- dence which every true follower of God has in the Divine favour and protection. A. C. alleged that the principle was 134 JOURNEY TO BIRMINGHAM. not unknown among even the heathens; though many called Christians deny that we can have any direct evidence of God's love to our minds ; and he quoted the following verse from Horace : — Integer vita scelerisque purus, Non egci Mauris jaculis. ncque arm, Nec vencnatis gravida sagittis. Fusee, p/iaretra." Odar. lib. i. od. 22. " The man that knows not guilty fear, Nor wants the bow, nor pointed spear; Nor needs, while innocent of heart, The quiver teeming with the poisoned dart." Francis. " True," said the gentleman, "but if we take Horace as au- thority for one point, we may as well do it in another, and in some of your received principles, you will find him against you ; witness another Ode," — " Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero Pulsanda tellus." Odar. lib. i. od. 37. " Now let the bowl with wine be crown'd ; Now lighter dance the mazy round." Francis. A. C. acknowledged the propriety of this critique; and has heen heard to say, " We should be cautious how we appeal to heathens, however eminent, in behalf of morality; because much may be collected from them on the other side. In like manner, we should take heed how we quote the Fathers in proof of the doctrines of the Gospel ; because he who knows them best, knows, that on many of those subjects, they blow hot and cold." He parted from this intelligent company at Lichfield : to whom he had a very favourable opportunity of explaining some of the chief doctrines of the Christian system. — Every well disposed mind has something to do for God or man, in every place and circumstance ; and he who is watchful and conscientious, will find opportunities. He reached Birmingham in the evening, and soon found out Mr. Joseph Brettell, the brother of John, already men- tioned, to whom he had a letter of recommendation from Mr. Bay. Mr. and Mrs. B. received him most affectionately, and offered him a bed at their house till he could take his depar- ture for Bristol, which could not be till early on the morning of the 24th, as there was no conveyance before that time. On the evening of the 23d Mr. B. took him with him to a public prayer- meeting, where he constrained him to give an exhortation ; which the piety and good sense of the people to whom it was given, led them to receive kindly. The chapel in Cherry JOURNEY TO BRISTOL. 135 Street was then nearly finished, and that night before the prayer-meeting, he heard old Parson Greenwood preach in it on these words, " I am in a strait between two." On which he observed that. " It had been generally the case in all ages, that the people of God had been frequently in straits and diffi- culties; and gave several instances, as Lot in Sodom ; Jacob in the house of Laban, and when he met with Esau his bro- ther; Moses in Egypt," &c. &c. and, had he then known the circumstances and spirit of his young strange hearer, he might have safely added him to the number. Before he left Birmingham, Mr. Brettell took occasion to ask him, " What he proposed by going to Kingswood school V Adam, who had been led to consider it in the light of an uni- versity, but much better conducted, immediately answered, " I hope to get in it an increase of learning, of knowledge, and of piety." Mr. B. said, " I hope you may not be disap- pointed : I question whether you will meet there with any- thing you expert." At this Adam was surprised, and referred him to some of the late magazines, where such an account was given of this seminary, as quite justified all his expecta- tions. Mr. B. said, u I only wish to put you on your guard against suffering pain and discouragement, should you be dis- appointed. Some of us know the place well; and' know that you will not meet in it what you have been led to expect." This seemed strange to him, and he pondered all these say- ings in his heart. This kind family behaved to him as if he had been their own child, and a strict friendship was estab- lished between him and them which was never dissolved ; and Mr. Brettell's house was his home whenever he visited Birmingham, till, in the course of Divine Providence, he left his residence and manufactory at the Moat, and became man- ager of a public charge in the town. Of this kind family Dr. C. was accustomed to say, "Never were those words of our Lord more literally attended to, than in the case of this family in reference to me : — I was a stran- ger and ye took me in. Of myself or family they had never before heard. Of me they could hardly expect ever to hear again ; and for their kindness they could expect no reward on this side the resurrection of the just ; and yet they behaved to me, as did the family of the Walkers, into which Mr. B. had married, as if they had been under the highest obligations to me and mine. May God remember them for good : and may neither their children, nor children's children, ever be strangers in a strange land, without meeting with such friends as they have been to me !" As the coach for Bristol was to go off at three o'clock in the morning, it was thought best that A. C. should sleep at the inn. When he had paid his coach outside fare to Bristol, and sixpence for his bed, he found he had remaining one shil- 130 ARRIVAL AT KINGSWOOD. ling and niuepence only. On this he could not draw exten- sively for support on the way ; nor was he anxious, as he was well inured to sell-denial and fasting. He left Birmingham at three o'clock, a. m. Aug. 24, and reached the Lamb Inn in Broad Mead, Bristol, at eight o'clock that night. During the whole of this time, his entire subsistence had been a penny loaf and a halfpenny worth of apples! The day had been stormy, and he had been often wet to the skin: and not being used to such travelling, he was sufficiently fatigued and ex- hausted when he reached Bristol. He was shewn to the kitchen, where there happening to be a good fire, he got him- self warmed : and he asked for a piece of bread and cheese, and a drink of water. "Water, water!" said one of the ser- vants, " had you not better have a pint of beer ?" — " No, I pre- fer a drink of water," said he : it was brought, and for this homely supper he paid sixpence, and sixpence for his bed be- fore he lay down; he had now sevenppnce halfpenny remain- ing, sixpence of which the chambermaid charged for taking care of his box : he had three halfpence left, his whole sub- stance, to begin the world at Kingswood ! The next morn- ing early, Aug. 25th, he left the inn, and walked to Kings- wood, and got thither about seven o'clock, when the preaching in the chapel was about to commence. He entered with the crowd, and heard Mr. Thomas Payne preach on " Woman, why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?'''' This text was a word in season to Adam, who began now to be very heavy, and considerably tried in his mind, with a foreboding of some, approaching distresses. It may be necessary to state here, that the Thomas Payne mentioned above, was not the famous revolutionist and Infidel, so well known since over Europe and America; but a zealous, sensible Methodist preacher, the reverse of the other, both in his religious and political creed. His own life, written by himself, may be found in the Armi- nian Magazine. He died at Brislington, near Bristol, the fol- lowing year. The preaching being ended, A. C. inquired of a young lad, whom he supposed to be one of the scholars, if Mr. Simpson (the head Master) was at home ? Being informed that he was, he begged leave to see him ; — he was introduced, and de- livered Mr. Wesley's letter. Mr. S. appeared surprised : said, " He had heard nothing of it, and that they had no room in the school for any one ; that Mr. Wesley was now in Corn- wall, but was expected in a fortnight :" and added, " You must go back to Bristol, and lodge there till he comes." These were all appalling tidings ! Adam had travelled several hun- dred miles both by sea and land in quest of a chimerical Utopia and Garden of Paradise, and now all his hopes were in a moment crushed to death. With a heart full of distress. Adam ventured to say, " Sir HIS RECEPTION AT KINGSWOOD SCHOOL. 137 I cannot go back to Bristol, I have expended all my money, and have nothing to subsist on." Mr. S. said, " Why should you come to Kingswood, it is only for preachers' children, or for such preachers as cannot read their Bible ; and it appears from this information, that you have already been at a clas- sical school, and that you have read both Greek and Latin au- thors." Adam said, " I am come to improve myself in vari- ous ways by the advantages which I understood Kingswood could afford. " Mr. S. replied that, "It was not necessary ; if you are already a preacher, you had better go out into the work at large, for there is no room for you in the school, and not one spare bed in the house." It was now with his poor heart : — Hei mihi! quanta de spe decidi! The rest I shall give in A. C.'s own words. " At last it was agreed, that there was a spare room on the end of the chapel, where I might lodge till Mr. Wesley should come from Cornwall : and that I must stay in that room and not come into the house. I was accordingly shewn to the place, and was told, one of the maids should bring me my daily food at the due times. As soon as I was left alone, I kneeled down and poured out my soul to God with strong cry- ing and tears. I was a stranger in a strange land, and alas ! among strange people: utterly friendless and pennyless. I felt also that I was not at liberty, but only to run away: — this I believe would have been grateful to the unfeeling people into whose hands I had fallen. But I soon found why I was thus cooped up in my prison-house. Mr. S. that day took an op- portunity to tell me that Mrs. S. suspected that I might have the itch, as many persons-coming from my country had ; [this was excellent from Scotch people, for such they both were ;] and that they could not let me mingle with the family. I im- mediately tore open my waistcoat and shirt, and shewed him a skin as white and as clean as ever had come across the Tweed ; but all to no purpose, — ' It might be cleaving some- where to me, and they could not be satisfied till I had rubbed myself, from head to foot, with a box of Jackson's itch oint- ment, which should be procured for me next day!'' "It was only my strong hold of God, that kept me from distraction. But to whom could I make my complaint ? Earthly refuge I had none. It is utterly impossible for me to describe the feelings, I may justly say the agony, of my mind. I sun-eyed my apartment ; there was a wretched old bureau wainscot bedstead, not worth ten shillings, and a flock bed, and suitable bed-clothes, worth not much more : but the worst was, they were very scanty, and the weather was cold and wet. There was one rush bottomed chair in the place, and besides these, neither carpet on the floor, nor at the bedside, nor any other kind of furniture. There was no book, not even a Bible, 12 + 138 TREATMENT AT KINGSWOOD SCHOOL. in the place ; and my own box, with my clothes and a few books, was behind at the Lamb Inn, in Bristol ; and I had not even a change of linen. Of this I informed them, and begged them to let the man, (as I found he went in with a horse and small cart three times a week,) bring out my box to me. To this request, often and earnestly repeated, I got no definite an- swer, but no box was brought. "Jackson's Ointment was brought, it is true ; and with this infernal unguent, I was obliged to anoint myself before a large fire, (the first and last I saw while I remained there,) which they had ordered to be lighted for the purpose. In this state, smelling worse than a polecat, I tumbled with a heavy heart and streaming eyes, into my worthless bed. The next morn- ing the sheets had taken from my body, as far as they came in contact with it, the unabsorbed parts of this tartareous com- pound : and the smell of them and myself was almost insup- portable. The woman that brought my bread and milk for breakfast — for dinner — and for supper, — for generally I had nothing else, and not enough of that, — I begged to let me have a pair of clean sheets. It was in vain : no clean clothes of any kind were afforded me ; I was left to make my own bed, sweep my own room, and empty my own basin, &c. &c. as I pleased ! For more than three Aveeks no soul performed any kind act for me. And as they did not give orders to the man to bring out my box, I was left without a change of any kind, till the Thursday of the second week; when I asked permission to go out of my prison-house to Bristol for my box ; which being granted, I walked to Bristol and carried my box on my head, more than four miles, without any kind of assist- ance ! It was then no loss, that my wardrobe was not exten- sive. As for books, I brought none with me but a small 18rno. Bible, a 12mo. edition of Young's Night Thoughts, Prideaux's Connected History of the Jews, &c, and Buck's 8vo. Greek Testament. " As both the days and nights were very cold, the season then being unnaturally so, I begged to have a little fire. This was denied me, though coals were raised within a few roods of the house, and were very cheap ; and had it been otherwise, they were not at their expense; they were paid for out of the public collections, made for that school ; to which many of my friends made an annual liberal offering. "One day, having seen Mr. S. walking in the garden, I went to him and told him I was starving with cold ; and shewed him my fingers then bloodless through cold ! He took me to the hall, shewed me a cord which hung from the roof, to the end of which was affixed a cross stick; and told me to jump up and catch a hold of the stick, and swing by my hands, and that would help to restore the circulation. I did so: and had been at the exercise only a few minutes, when Mrs. S. TREATMENT AT KING*\VOOD SCHOOL. 139 came anil drove both him and myself away, under pretence that we should dirty the floor ! From this woman I received no kindness. A more unfeeling woman I had never met. She was probably very clever — all stood in awe of her — for my own part, I feared her more than I feared Satan himself. When nearly crippled with cold, and I had stolen into the kitchen to warm myself for a few moments, if I had heard her voice in the hall, I have run as a man would who is pursued in the jungles of Bengal by a royal tiger. " This woman was equally saving of the candles, as of the coals: if. my candle were not extinguished by nine o'clock, I was called to account for it. My bed not being comfortable, I did not like to lie much in it ; and therefore kept out of it as late, and rose from it as early as possible. To prevent Mrs. S. from seeing the reflection of the light through my window, (for my prison-house was opposite the school, over the way,) I was accustomed to set my candle on the floor behind my bureau bed, take off my coat and hang it on my chair's back, bring that close on the other angle, and then sit down squat on the floor and read ! To these miserable expedients was I driven in order to avoid my bed, and spend my time in the best manner I could for the cultivation of my mind, and to escape the prying eye of this woman, who seemed never to be in her element but when she was driving every thing be- fore her. " I asked and got permission to work in the garden. There, fine quickset hedges were all overgrown ; these I reduced to order by the dubbing shears : and I had done this so well, that my taste and industry were both applauded. I occasion- ally dug and dressed plots in the ground. This was of great service to me, as it gave me a sufficiency of exercise, and I had on the whole better health ; and there was a sort of pond of rain water in the garden, where I occasionally bathed, scanty indeed of water, for there is none in the place but what falls from heaven ; and for a temporary occupation of their premises, I was obliged to contend witli frogs, askes, or evets, and vermin of different kinds. " The preaching, and public band-meeting at the chapel, were often sources of spiritual refreshment to me ; and gave me songs in the house of my pilgrimage. "One Thursday evening, when Mr. Thos. Rankin, who was superintendent (then called assistant) of the circuit, had preached, the bands met: and as I made it a point never to attend band-meeting or love-feast, without delivering my tes- timony for God, I spoke: and without entering into trials, temptations, or difficulties of any kind, I simply stated my confidence in God, the clear sense I had of my acceptance with Him, and my earnest desire for complete purity of heart. When the meeting was ended, Mr. R. came to me, and asked 140 TREATMENT AT KINGSWOOD SCHOOL. if I had ever led a class ? I said, I had often, in my own country, but not since I came to England. ' Have you ever preached V I answered, I had often exhorted in public, but had taken a text only a few times. He then told me I must go and meet a class at Mangotsfield, the next day ; and preach at Downend the next Wednesday. I met the class, and preached as appointed, and had great favour in the sight of the people. " From that time Mr. Rankin was my steady friend. I had an intimate acquaintance with him for upwards of thirty years ; and we never had the slightest misunderstanding. He was an authoritative man ; and many complained of him on this account ; he had not many friends, his manner being often apparently austere. But he was a man of unblemished character, truly devoted to God, and zealous in his work. I attended him on his death-bed in London : he died as a Chris- tian and minister of Christ should die, — full of confidence in God, and peace and joy in the Holy Ghost. " The last time I saw him he desired his step-daughter, Mrs. Hovatt, to open a certain drawer, and bring to him a little shagreen box. She did so — he took it, and said, 'My dear brother Clarke, this is a silver medal of the late Rev. George Whitfield : Mr. Wesley gave it to me, and in my will 1 have left it to you: but I now choose to give it to you with my own hands ; and I shall use the same words in giving it which Mr. Wesley used when he gave it to me : ' Thus we scatter our playthings : and soon we'll scatter our dust.' " It is a satisfaction to me that, having been superintendent of the London circuit three years before he died, I had it in my power to make his latter labours comparatively comfortable and easy ; by appointing him to places to which he had little fa- tigue in going, and where he was affectionately entertained. — In this I only did my duty ; but he received it as a very high obligation. Preachers who have borne the burden and heat of the day, should be favoured in their latter end, when their strength and spirits fail. "Before I go farther in this relation, it will be necessary to describe, as briefly as possible, the family at Kingswood. " The school at that time consisted of the sons of itinerant preachers, and parlour boarders. The latter were taken in, be- cause the public collections were not sufficient to support the institution. " As a religious seminary, and under the direction of one of the greatest men in the world, Mr. J. Wesley, (though his mul- titudinous avocations prevented him from paying much atten- tion to it,) the school had a great character, both over Europe and America, among religious people. Independently of several young gentlemen, the sons of opulent Methodists, there were t TREATMENT AT KlNOStt 00D SCHOOL. 141 at that time in it several from the West Indies, Norway, Swe- den, and Denmark. " The following was the domestic establishment: — "Mr. Thomas Simpson, M. A. was head master. Mrs. Simpson, housekeeper. Miss Simpson, assistant. The Rev. Cornelius Bayley, afterwards Dr. Bayley of Manchester, was English teacher ; who had I believe at that time, only 12/. per annum, and his board, &c. for his labor ; Mr. Vincent de Boudry was occasional French teacher ; and Mr. C. R. Bond was a sort of half boarder, and assistant English teacher. •'Mr. S. was a man of learning and piety ; much of a gen- tleman, but too easy for his situation. Mr. Bayley was a man of the strictest morals and exemplary piety. Mr. De Boudry was a man of plain sense and true godliness. Mr. Bond was a young man of little experience, and shallow in talents, but affectionate : whose highest ambition seemed to be, to reach the exalted place and character of a clergyman. " Mr. Simpson, on leaving Kingswood, which he did the year after I was there, set up a classical school at Keynsham ; which he managed for many years with considerable credit ; and died, leaving a son to fill his place, who afterwards became vicar of that place. "Mr. Cornelius Bayley published a very good Hebrew grammar while he was at the school. He afterwards went to Manchester, where a church was built for him, called St. James'. There he earnestly laboured and did much good, though he knew not the people among whom he received his religion, and who were the principal instruments in build- ing his church. He also is dead ; highly respected for his piety, usefulness, and high Church principles. " Mr. De Boudry married a pious sensible woman ; and set up a Boarding School on Kingsdown, Bristol. He is dead; having long borne the character of a nious, steady, honest man. " No man can do justice to the lite of Mr. Bond, but him- self. It has been indeed various and chccqucred : he is pro- bably still living; but I know not what is become of him. " The scholars were none of them remarkable for piety or learning. The young gentlemen that were introduced had spoiled the discipline of the school; very few of its Rules and Regulations were observed ; and it in no respect answered the end of its institution. This is evident from the judgment passed upon it in the following year by Mr. Wesley and the Bristol Conference. This document I transcribe. ' Q. 15. Can any improvement be made in the manage- ' A. My design in building the house at Kingswood was to have therein a Christian family ; every member whereof, : Bristol, Aug. 1783. 142 TREATMENT AT KIN'GSWOOO SCHOOL. (children excepted,) should be alive to God, and a pattern of all holiness. Here it was that I proposed to educate a few children according to the accuracy of the Christian model. And almost as soon as we began, C4od gave us a token for good, four of the children receiving a clear sense of pardon. But at present the school does not in any wise answer the design of its institution, either with regard to religion or learn- ing. The children are not religious ; they have not the pow- er, and hardly the form, of religion. Neither do they improve in learning better than at other schools: no, nor yet so well. Insomuch that some of our friends have been obliged to re- move their children to other schools. And no wonder they improve so little either in religion or learning; for the rules of the school are not observed at all. All in the house ought to rise, take their three meals, and go to bed at a fixed hour. But they do not. The children ought never to be alone ; but always in the presence of a master. This is totally neglect- ed ; in consequence of which they run up and dowu the road, and mix, yea fight, with the colliers' children. ' How may these evils be remedied, and the school reduced to its original plan ? It must be mended or ended, for no school, is better than the present school.' " This censure is perfectly correct, it was the worst school I had ever seen, and though the teachers were men of ade- quate learning ; yet as the school was perfectly disorganized, and in several respects each did what was right in his own eyes, and there was no efficient plan pursued, they mocked at religion, and trampled under foot all the laws. The little children of the preachers suffered great indignities ; and, it is to be feared, their treatment there gave many of them a rooted enmity against piety and religion for life. The parlour board- ers had every kind of respect paid to them, and the others were shamefully neglected. Had this most gross mismanage- ment been known to the Methodist preachers, they would have suffered their sons to die in ignorance, rather than have sent them to a place where there was scarcely any care taken either of their bodies or souls. " I found to my great discomfort, all the hints thrown out by Mr. B. and my Birmingham friends more than realized. The school has certainly been ' mended 1 since ; and is now stated to be in a progressive state of greater improvement than ever. May it ever answer, in every respect the great end which its most excellent founder proposed when he laid its first stone, and drew up its rules. " But to return to the remainder of my short stay in Kings- wood. " I have already noticed that, for the sake of exercise, I often worked in the garden. Observing one day a small plot 4 TREATMENT AT KING3W00D SCHOOL. 143 •which had been awkwardly turned over by one of the boys, I took the spade and began to dress it : in breaking one of the clods, I knocked a half-guinea out of it. I took it up and im- mediately said to myself, this is not mine ; it belongs not to any of my family, for they have never been here ; I will take the first opportunity to give it to Mr. Simpson. Shortly after, I perceived him walking in the garden, I went to him, told him the circumstance, and presented the half-guinea to him; he took it, looked at it, and said, ' It may be mine, as several hundred pounds pass through my hands in the course of the year, for the expenses of this school ; but I do not recollect that I ever lost any money since I came here. Probably one of the gentlemen has; keep it, and in the mean time I will in- quire.' I said, ' sir, it is not mine, take you the money, if you meet the right owner, well ; if not, throw it in the funds of the school.' He answered, ' You must keep it till I make the en- quiry.' I took it again with reluctance. The next day he told me that Mr. Bayley had lost a half-guinea, and I might give it to him the first time I saw him ; I did so :— three days afterwards Mr. Bayley came to me and said, ' Mr. C. it is true, that I lost a half-guinea, but I am not sure that this is the half guinea I lost ; unless I were so, I could not conscientiously keep it; therefore you must take it again.' I said, ' It is not mine, probably it is yours; therefore I cannot take it.' He answered, 'I will not keep it: I have been uneasy in my mind ever since it came into my possession;^ and, in saying this, he forced the gold into my hand. Mr. Simpson was present : I then presented it to him, saying, * Here; Mr. S., take you it, and apply it to the use of the school.' He turned away nastily as from something ominous, and said. ' I declare I will have nothing to do with it.' So it was obliged to remain with its finder, and formed a grand addition to a purse that already possessed only three half-pence. "Was this providential? 1. I was poor, not worth two- pence in the world, and needed some important articles. 2. I was out of the reach of all supplies, and could be helped only from heaven. 3. How is it that the lad who had dug the ground did not find the money : it was in a clod less than a man's fist. 4. How came it that Mr. B., who knew he had lost a half-guinea, somewhere about the premises, could not appropriate this, but was miserable in his mind for two or three days and nights, and could have no rest till he returned it to me? 5. How came it that Mr. S. was so horrified with the poor half-guinea that he dared not even throw it into the cha- ritable fund ? 6. Did the Providence of God send this to me, knowing that I stood in need of such a supply ? " The story is before the Reader, he may draw wha t infer- ence he pleases. One thing, however, I may add. — Besides two or three necessary articles which I purchased, I gave Mr. J 44 TREATMENT AT KINGSWOOD SCHOOL. Bay ley 6s. as my subscription for his Hebrew Grammar : by which work I acquired a satisfactory knowledge of that lan- guage, which ultimately led me to read over the Hebrew Bible, and make those short notes which formed the basis of the Commentary since published ! Had I not got that Gram- mar I probably should never have turned my mind to Hebrew learning ; and most certainly had never written a Commentary on Divine Revelation ! Behold how great matter a little fire kindleth ! My pocket was not entirely empty of the remains of this half-guinea, till other supplies, in the ordinary course of God's Providence came in ! O God ! the silver and the gold are thine : so are the cattle upon a thousand hills. " At length Mr. Wesley returned to Bristol. The day he came, Mr. Simpson went in and had an interview with him ; and I suppose told his own tale, — that they had not room, that it was a pity I should not be out in the general work ; and I was told that Mr. W. wished to see me. I had this privilege for the first time, on September 6th. I went into Bristol, saw Mr. Rankin, who carried me to Mr. Wesley's study, off the great lobby of the rooms over the Chapel in Broadmead. He tapped at the door, which was opened by this truly apostolic man : Mr. R. retired : Mr. W. took me kindly by the hand, and asked me, ' How long since I had left Ireland V Our conver- sation was short. He said, ' Well, brother Clarke, do you wish to devote yourself entirely to the work of God ?' I answered, ' Sir, I wish to do and be what God pleases !' He then said, ' We want a preacher for Bradford (Wilts ;) hold yourself in readiness to go thither ; I am going into the country, and will let you know when you shall go.' He then turned to me, laid his hands upon my head, and spent a few moments in praying to God to bless and preserve me, and to give me success in the work to which I was called. " I departed, having now received, in addition to my ap- pointment from God to preach His gospel, the only authority I could have from man, in that line in which I was to exer- cise the Ministry of the Divine Word. " That evening Mr. Wesley preached in the chapel from Zech. iv. 6., Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, sa ilh the Lord of Hosts. In this Sermon, which was little else than a simple narrative of facts, he gave a succinct ac- count of the rise and progress of what is called Methodism : its commencement in Oxford, occasioned by himself and his brother Charles, and a few other young men, setting apart a certain portion of time to read the Greek Testament, and care- fully to note the doctrines and precepts of the gospel; and to pray for inward and outward holiness, &c. With and by these God had condescended to work a work, the greatest that had been wrought in any nation since the days of the Apostles. That the instruments which he employed were, humanly ■ TREATMENT AT KING6WO0D SCHOOL. 145 speaking, not at all calculated to produce such a glorious ef- fect; — they had no might as to extraordinary learning, philo- sophy, or rhetorical abilities : — they had no power, either eccle- siastical or civil ; could neither command attention, nor punish the breach of order ; and yet by these means was this extra- ordinary work wrought ; and in such a manner too as to de- monstrate, thai as it was neither by might nor power, it was by the Spirit of the Lord of Hosts. " Had this relation been entirely new to me, I should have fell more interest in the Sermon. But I had already acquainted myself with the history of Methodism, of which the present Sermon was an abridgment. The Sermon had nothing great in it, but was well suited to the purpose for which it was preach- ed ; viz. to lead the people ever to consider the glorious revival of religion which they witnessed, as the work of God alone ; and to give him the glory ; as to Him alone this glory was due. " Two days after this, (September 8,) 1 first saw Mr. Charles Wesley, and' was not a little gratified to think that I had, by a strange series of providences, been brought to see the two men whom I had long considered as the very highest characters upon the face of the globe ; and as the most favoured instru- ments which God had employed since the days of the twelve Apostles to revive and spread genuine Christianity in the earth. " It was not till the 26th of this month that I had my final instructions to set off to my circuit. " A young man, named Edward Itippon, had been, on too slight an authority, recommended to Mr. Wesley at the Con- ference, which had been held at Bristol in the last month, as a proper person to travel, and he was accordingly appointed for Bradford, (Wilts.) When the time came, he was found to be unqualified for the work, and he declined coming out. To supply his place, I was appointed for that circuit : and this is the reason why my name was not printed in the Minutes that year; as the Conference was over before Mr. Rippon's determination was known, or my appointment had taken place. And by a blunder of all editors since that time, Bip- pon's name stands in that year as a travelling preacher in the Bradford circuit, though he never travelled an hour as a Methodist preacher in his life. " I have only one thing more to add about Kingswood, be- fore I take my final leave of it. " When Mr. Wesley had returned and told me to hold my- self in readiness to go into a circuit, I was brought out of my prison house, had a bed assigned me in the large room with the rest of the boys, (for about forty lay in the same chamber, each in a separate cot, with a flock bed,) and had permission to dine with the family. There was no question then about itch, or any thing else; whether lever had it, or whether 7 was cured of it ! But Mrs. S.'s authority was not vet at an end. n 146 HE IS CONFIRMED. It was soon observed at table that 1 drank no person's health. The truth is, I had ever considered it an absurd and senseless custom, and could not bring my mind to it. At this table, every person when he drank was obliged to run the following gauntlet. He must drink the health of Mr. Simpson — Mrs. Simpson — Miss Simpson — Mr. Bayley — Mr'. De Boudry — all the foreign gentlemen — then all the parlour boarders, down one side of the long table, and up the other, one by one, and all the visitors who might happen to be there : — after which it was lawful for him to drink his glass of beer. "On Mrs. Simpson's insisting upon my going through this routine, and drinking all healths, I told her I had a scruple of conscience, and could not submit to it till better informed ; and hoped she would not insist on it. She answered, ' You certainly shall : you shall not drink at table unless you drink the healths of the company as the others do. Mr. Wesley drinks healths ; Mr. Fletcher does the same ; but you will not. do it, because of course you have more wisdom and piety than they have.' To this I could not reply. I was in Rome, and it would have been absurd in me to have attempted to contend with the pope. The consequence was, I never had a drop ot fluid with my meat during the rest of my stay at this place. This was a sore trial to me, for I never had an easy degluti- tion, and was always obliged to sip with my food, in order to get it easily swallowed. I had now no help, but to take very small bits, and eat little ; and then go out to the vile straining stone behind the kitchen, for some of the half-putrid pit water ; and thus terminate my unsatisfactory meal. " The tyranny of Mrs. S. in this was truly execrable. I omitted from conviction a practice which I judged to be at least foolish and absurd : and none of them could furnish the shadow of an argument in vindication of their own con- duct, or in confutation of mine. I have however lived long enough to see almost the whole nation come over to my side. " It was at this time that the Bishop of Bristol held a confir- mation in the collegiate church. I had never been confirmed , and as I had a high respect for all the rites and ceremonies ol the Church, I wished to embrace this opportunity to get the blessing of that amiable and apostolic looking prelate, Dr. Lewis Bagot. I asked permission ; several of the preachers' sons went with me ; and I felt much satisfaction in this ordinance; to me it was very solemn, and the whole was well conducted. Mrs. S., who was a Presbyterian, pitied my being so long ' held in the oldness of the letter.' I have lived nearly forty years since ; and upon this point my sentiments are not changed. " My stay was now terminated at Kingswood school. On the morning of Sept. 26th, I left it, walked to Hanham: from thence to Bath, where I heard Mr. Wesley preach : and from Bath I walked to Bradford, where I again heard him preach in LEAVES KINGSWOOD. 117 the evening. That night I lodged at the house of Mr. Pearce; a man who was a pattern of every excellence that constitutes the Christian character : and the next day I set out into my circuit, of which Trowbridge was the first place. " Though burdened with a sense of my great unfitness for the work into which I was going, yet I left Kingswood without a sigh or a groan. It had been to me a place of unworthy treat- ment, not to say torment : but this had lasted only one month and two days ; thirty-one days too much, if God had not been pleased to order it otherwise. But the impressions made upon my mind by the bad usage I received there, have never been erased : a sight of the place has ever filled me with distressing sensations ; and the bare recollection of the name never fails to bring with it associations both unpleasant and painful. Those who were instruments of my tribulation are gone to another tribunal ; and against them I never made any complaint." A younger person than Adam Clarke, had probably never gone out into the work of the ministry among the Methodists, or perhaps among any other people : and had not his been a case peculiar and singular, and which should never pass into a precedent, it would have been imprudent to have appointed so young a man to such a work, both for his own sake, and for the sake of those who were to sit under his ministry. Mr. C. was judged to be at. this time about eighteen; and even small and youthful taken for that age : he was a mere boy, and was generally denominated the little boy. But he was in a very particular manner fitted for the work, by strong exercises of spirit, and by much experience and knowledge of his own heart, of the temptations of Satan, and of the goodness of God. His acquaintance with the Scriptures could not be extensive; but it was very correct as far as it went. Of the plan of salvation he had the most accurate know- ledge ; and in this respect, his trump'. t could not give an un- certain sound. He had received the word from God's mouth, and he gave the people warning from Him. He well knew those portions which applied to the stout-hearted and far from righteousness — to the penitent — the strongly tempted — the lukewarm — the believer — the backslider— and the self-right- eous. AH these states he could readily discern ; and knew well how to address them. Besides, his zeal knew no other bounds than those that limit the human race ; and its exertions under that influence, were confined only within the limits of his cor- poreal and mental strength. The Biblew&s his one book; and Prayer his continual exercise. He frequently read it upon his knees ; and often watered it with his tears. He never entered the pulpit but with the conviction that if God did not help him by the influence of his Spirit, his heart must be hard, and his mind dark, and consequently his word be without unction, and 146 HE IS CONFIRMED. It was soon observed at table that 1 drank no person's health. The truth is, I had ever considered it an absurd and senseless Custom, and could not bring my mind to it. At this table, every person when he drank was obliged to run the following gauntlet. He must drink the health of Mr. Simpson — Mrs. Simpson— Miss Simpson — Mr. Bayley — Mr'. De Boudry — all the foreign gentlemen — then all the parlour boarders, down one side of the long table, and up the other, one by one, and all the visitors who might happen to be there : — after which it was lawful for him to drink his glass of beer. "On Mrs. Simpson's insisting upon my going through this routine, and drinking all healths, I told her I had a scrapie of conscience, and could not submit to it till better informed ; and hoped she would not insist on it. She answered, ' You certainly shall : you shall not drink at table unless you drink the healths of the company as the others do. Mr. Wesley drinks healths ; Mr. Fletcher does the same ; but you will not do it, because of course you have more wisdom and piety than they have.' To this I could not reply. I was in Rome, and it would have been absurd in me to have attempted to contend with the pope. The consequence was, I never had a drop ol fluid with my meat during the rest of my stay at this place. This was a sore trial to me, for I never had an easy degluti- tion, and was always obliged to sip with my food, in order to get it easily swallowed. I had now no help, but to take very small bits, and eat little ; and then go out to the vile straining stone behind the kitchen, for some of the half-putrid pit water ; and thus terminate my unsatisfactory meal. " The tyranny of Mrs. S. in this was truly execrable. I omitted from conviction a practice which I judged to be at least foolish and absurd : and none of them could furnish the shadow of an argument in vindication of their own con- duct, or in confutation of mine. 1 have however lived long enough to see almost the whole nation come over to my side. " It was at this time that the Bishop of Bristol held a confir- mation in the collegiate church. I had never been confirmed , and as I had a high respect for all the rites and ceremonies ot the Church, I wished to embrace this opportunity to get the blessing of that amiable and apostolic looking prelate, Dr. Lewis Bagot. I asked permission ; several of the preachers' sons went with me ; and I felt much satisfaction in this ordinance; to me it was very solemn, and the whole was well conducted. Mrs. S., who was a Presbyterian, pitied my being so long ' held in the oldness of the letter.' I have lived nearly forty years since ; and upon this point my sentiments are not changed. " My stay was now terminated at Kingswood school. On the morning of Sept. 26th, I left it, walked to Hanham: from thence to Bath, where I heard Mr. Wesley preach : and from Bath I walked to Bradford, where I again heard him preach in 4 LEAVES KINGSWOOD. 147 the evening. That night I lodged at the house of Mr. Pearce; a man who was a pattern of every excellence that constitutes the Christian character: and the next day I set out into my circuit, of which Trowbridge was the first place. " Though burdened with a sense of my great unfitness for the work into which I was going, yet I left Kingswood without a sigh or a groan. It had been to me a place of unworthy treat- ment, not to say torment : but this had lasted only one month and two days ; thirty-one days too much, if God had not been pleased to order it otherwise. But the impressions made upon my mind by the bad usage I received there, have never been erased : a sight of the place has ever filled me with distressing sensations ; and the bare recollection of the name never fails to bring with it associations both unpleasant and painful. Those who were instruments of my tribulation are gone to another tribunal ; and against them I never made any complaint." A younger person than Adam Clarke, had probably never gone out into the work of the ministry among the Methodists, or perhaps among any other people : and had not his been a case peculiar and singular, and which should never pass into a precedent, it would have been imprudent to have appointed so young a man to such a work, both for his own sake, and for the sake of those who were to sit under his ministry. Mr. C. was judged to be at this time about eighteen; and even small and youthful taken for that age : he was a mere boy, and was generally denominated the little boy. But he was in a very particular manner fitted fdr the work, by strong exercises of spirit, and by much experience and knowledge of his own heart, of the temptations of Satan, and of the goodness of God. His acquaintance with the Scriptures could not be extensive; but it was very correct as far as it went. Of the plan of salvation he had the most accurate know- ledge ; and in this respect, his trumpu could not give an un- certain sound. He had received the word from God's mouth, and he gave the people warning from Him. He well knew those portions which applied to the stout-hearted and far from righteousness — to the penitent — the strongly tempted — the lukewarm — the believer — the backslider— and the self-right- eous. All these states he could readily discern ; and knew well how to address them. Besides, his zeal knew no other bounds than those that limit the human race ; and its exertions under that influence, were confined only within the limits of his cor- poreal and mental strength. The Biblewas his one book; and Prayer his continual exercise. He frequently read it upon his knees ; and often watered it with his tears. He never entered the pulpit but with the conviction that if God did not help him by the influence of his Spirit, his heart must be hard, and his mind dark, and consequently his word be without unction, and 148 HIS CREED. without effect. For this influence he besought God with strong crying and tears ; and he was seldom, if ever, left to himself. With respect, to preaching itself, his diffidence was ex- treme ; and he felt it as a heavy burden which God had laid upon his shoulders ; and under which God alone could sup- port him : and, as he found in this case most emphatically, without God he could do nothing; he was therefore led to watch and pray most earnestly and diligently, that he might be enabled to hold fast faith and a good conscience, that con- tinuing in God's favour, he might have reason to expect his support. Of the Methodists' economy, as it respected secular things, he knew little : it never entered into his mind that he was to have anything but his food: as to clothing, he did not antici- pate the thought of needing any. Purer motives, greater dis- interestedness, never dwelt in the breast of human being: he sought nothing but the favour of his Maker, and the salvation of souls, and to spend and be spent in thfs work. Of learning, he did not boast ; because he believed that he could not. He knew that he had the rudiments of literature, a moderate classical taste, and an insatiable thirst for know- ledge ; especially the knowledge of God and His works : his mind was not highly cultivated, but the soil was broken up, and was, in every respect, improvable. Such were the qualifications of Adam Clarke, when, on Sept. 27, 1782, he went out as an itinerant preacher among the people called Methodists. It has already been stated, that a thorough reading of the New Testament settled his Creed; no article of which he ever afterwards saw occasion to change. The principal Articles were the following : and for these he believed he had the unequivocal testimony of Scripture, the steady voice of reason, and thcevidence of facts, as far as these could apply to the articles in question. "I. That there is but one uncreated, unoriginated, infinite, and eternal Being ; — the Creator, Preserver, and Governor of all things. " II. There is in this Infinite Essence a Plurality of what we commonly call Persons; not separately subsisting, but essentially belonging to the Deity or Godhead; which Per- sons are generally termed Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ; or, God, the Logos, and the Holy Spirit, which are usually desig- nated the Trinity; which term, though not found iu the Scriptures, seems properly enough applied ; as we repeat- edly read of these Three, and never of more persons in the Godhead. "III. The Sacred Scriptures or Holy Books, which con- HIS CRF.ED. 149 stitute the Old and New Testaments, contain a full revelation of the will of God, in reference to man ; and are alone suffi- cient for every thing relative to the faith and practice of a Christian, and were given by the inspiration of God. " IV. Man was created in righteousness and true holiness, without any moral imperfection, or any kind of propensity to sin ; but free to stand or fall, according to the use of the powers and faculties he received from his Creator. " V. He fell from this state, became morally corrupt in his na- ture, and transmitted his moral defilement to all his posterity. " VI. To counteract the evil principle in the heart of man, and bring him into a salvable state, God, from his infinite love, formed the purpose of redeeming him from his lost estate, by the incarnation, in the fulness of time, of Jesus Christ; and, in the interim, sent his Holy Spirit to enlighten, strive with, and convince, men of sin., righteousness, and judgment. " VII. In due time this Divine Person, called the Logos, Word, Saviour, &c, &c, did become incarnate ; sojourned among men, teaching the purest truth, and working the most stupendous and beneficent miracles. " VIII. The above Person is really and properly God : was foretold as such, by the Prophets : described as such, by the Evangelists and Apostles ; and proved to be such, by His mi- racles ; and has assigned to Him by the inspired writers in general, every attribute essential to the Deity ; being One with Him who is called God, Jehovah, Lord, &c. " IX. He is also a perfect Man, in consequence of His In- carnation ; and in that Man, or Manhood, dwelt all the ful- ness of the Godhead bodily : so that His nature is twofold — Divine and Human, or God manifested in the flesh. " X. His Human Nature was begotten of the blessed Vir- gin Mary, through the creative energy of the Holy Ghost : but His Divine Nature, because God, infinite and eternal, is un- created, underived, and unbegotten ; and which, were it other- wise, He could not be God in any proper sense of the word : but He is most explicitly declared to be God in the Holy Scrip- tures ; and therefore the doctrine of the Eternal Sonship, must necessarily be false. — (See the Arg. p. 96.) " XI. As He took upon Him the nature of man, and died in that nature; therefore, He died for the whole human race, without respect of persons : equally for all and every man. " XII. On the third day after His crucifixion, and burial, He rose from the dead; and after shewing himself many days to His disciples and others, He ascended into Heaven, where, as God manifested in the Flesh, He is, and shall continue to be, the Mediator of the human race, till the consummation ot all things. "XIII. There is no salvation, but through him; and throughout the Scriptures His Passion and Death, are con- 150 His G&B88, sidercd as Sacrificial : pardon of sin and final salvation being obtained by the alone shedding of His blood. "XIV. No human being, since the fait, either has, or can have, merit or worthiness of, or by, himself ; and therefore, has nothing to claim from God, but in the way of His mercy through Christ : therefore, pardon and every other blessing, promised in the Gospel, have been purchased by His Sacrifi- cial Death ; and are given to men, not on the account of any thing they have done or suffered ; or can do or suffer ; but for His sake, or through his meritorious passion and death, alone. "XV. These blessings are received by faith ; because they are not of works nor of suffering. " XVI. The power to believe, or grace of faith, is the free gift of God, without which no man can be'lieve: but the act of faith, or actually believing, is the act of the soul under that power : this power is withheld from no man ; but, like all other gifts of God, it may be slighted, not used, or misused, in con- sequence of which is that declaration, He that believeth shall be saved ; but he that believeth not shall be damned. " XVII. Jiist if cation, or the pardon of sin, is an instanta- neous act of God's mercy in behalf of a penitent sinner, trust- ing only in the merits of "Jesus Christ : and this act is absolute in reference to all past sin, all being forgiven where any is forgiven : gradual pardon, or progressive justification, being unscriptural and absurd. "XVIII. The souls of all believers may be purified from nil sin in this life ; and a man may live under the continual influence of the grace of Christ, so as not to sin against God. All sinful tempers and evil propensities being destroyed, and his heart constantly filled with pure love both to God and man ; and, as love is the principle of obedience, he who loves God with all his heart, soul, mind, and strength, and his neighbour as himself, is incapable of doing wrong to either. "XIX. Unless a believer live and walk in the spirit of obe- dience, he will fall from the grace of God, and forfeit all his Christian privileges and rights ; and, although he may be restored to the favour and image of his Maker from which he has fallen, yet it is possible that he may continue under the influence or this fall, and perish everlastingly. " XX. The whole period of human life is a state of pro- bation, in every point of which a sinner may repent, and turn to God: and in every point of it, a believer may give way to sin, and fall from grace: and this possibility of rising or fall- ing is essential to a state of trial or probation. "XXI. All the promises and threatenings of the Sacred Writings, as they regard man in reference to his being here and hereafter, are conditional ; and it is on this ground alone that the Holy Scriptures can be consistently interpreted or rightly understood. HIS CREED. 151 "XXII. Man is a free agent, never being impelled by any necessitating influence, either to do good, or evil : but has the continual power to choose the life or the death that are set be- fore him ; on which ground he is an accountable being, and answerable for his own actions : and on this ground also he is alone capable of being rewarded or punished. <: XXIII. The free will of man is a necessary constituent of his rational soul ; without which he must be a mere machine, — either the sport of blind chance, or the mere patient of an irresistible necessity ; and consequently, not accountable for any acts which were predetermined, and to which he was ir- resistibly compelled. " XXIV. Every human being has this freedom of will, with a sufficiency of light and power to direct its operations : but this powerful light is not inherent in any man's nature, but is graciously bestowed by Him who is The true Light which Tightenelh. every man that cometh into the world. "XXV. Jesus Christ has made by His one offering upon the Cross, a sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and atonement for the sins of the whole world ; and His gracious Spirit strives with, and enlightens, all men ; thus putting them into a sal- vable state : therefore, every human soul may be saved if it be not his own fault. "XXVI. Jesus Christ has instituted, and commanded to be perpetuated, in His Church, two sacraments only: — 1. Baptism, sprinkling, washing with, or immersion in, water, in the name of the Holy and Ever-blessed Trinity, as a sign of the cleansing or regenerating influence of the Holy Spirit, by which influence a death unto sin and a new birth unto right- eousness, are produced : and 2. The Eucharist, or Lord's Supper, as commemorating the sacrificial death of Christ. And he instituted the first to be once only administered to the same person, for the above purpose, and as a rite of initiation into the visible church : and the second, that by its frequent administration all believers may be kept in mind of the foun- dation on which their salvation is built, and receive grace to enable them to adorn the doctrine of God their Saviour in all things. "XXVII. The soul is immaterial and immortal, and can subsist independently of the body. " XXVIII. There will be a general Resurrection of the dead ; both of the just and the unjust ; when the souls of both shall be re-united to their respective bodies ; both of which will be immortal and live eternally. " XXIX. There will be a general Judgment ; after which all shall be punished or rewarded, according to the deeds done in the body ; and the wicked shall be sent to hell, and the righteous taken to heaven. "XXX. These states of rewards and punishments shall 152 HIS CREED. have no end, for as much as the time oi' trial or probation shall then be for ever terminated ; and the succeeding state must necessarily be fixed and unalterable. " XXXI. The origin of human salvation is found in the infinite philanthropy of God ; and, on this principle, the un- conditional reprobation of any soul is absolutely impossible. " XXXII. God has no secret will, in reference to man, which is contrary to his revealed will, — as this would shew Him to be an insincere Being, — professing benevolence to all, while he secretly purposed that that benevolence should be ex- tended only to a few ; a doctrine which appears blasphemous as it respects God, — and subversive of all moral good as it re- gards man, and totally at variance with the infinite rectitude of the Divine Nature." It is thought necessary to give these Articles of his Creed in his own words ; for, although they contain nothing but what the Church of God has received from its very founda- tion ; yet, the manner of proposing them is both original and precise, and well calculated to convey the sense of each. If ever language should be clear; — if ever terms should be strictly and accurately defined, and used in the most fixed and absolute sense ; — it is when they are used to express the ar- ticles of a. religious creed: a subject in which the understand- ing and judgment are most intimately concerned, and in which man has his all at stake. On the Tenth Article, relative to the Eternal Sonship of Christ, there has been some difference between him and some persons, who, in all other respects, held precisely the same doctrines. On this point, he has often been heard to say : — " Let my Argument on Luke i. 35, be proved false, which, if it could be, might be done in as small a compass as that of the Argument itself, then I am prepared to demonstrate, from the principles of the Refutation, that Arianism. is the genuine doctrine of the Gospel relative to the Person of Jesus Christ. But as that Argument cannot be confuted, and my Argument in favour of the proper Divinity of Jesus Christ, in my Sermon on Salvation by Faith, cannot be overthrown ; consequently, the doctrine of the proper and essential and underived Deity of Jesus Christ must stand, and that of the Eternal Sonship must be overwhelmed in its own error, darkness, and confusion." With the above Qualifications, and these Doctrines, Adam Clarke went out into the vineyard of his Lord, not to inspect the work of others, but to labour himself; and that the Great Head of the Church did, in the most signal manner bless and prosper this labour, has been witnessed by many thousands among whom he has gone preaching the kingdom of God ; witnessing powerfully to all, — Repentance towards God, and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ. HE BECOMES AN ITINERANT PREACHER. [53 BOOK IV. BRADFORD (WILTS) CIRCUIT, 1782—3. This circuit extended into three counties, Wilts, Somerset, and Dorset, and contained at that time the following places : Bradford, Trowbridge, Shaftsbury, Motcomb, Fontmill, Pol- lard, Winsley. Shepton Mallet, Kingston Deverell, Longbridge Deverell, Bradley, Frome, Corsley, Buckland, Coalford, Hol- comb, Oak-hill. Bruton, West Pennard, Alhampton, Ditcheat, Freshford, Seend, Melksham, Devizes, Pottern, Sandy Lane, Broomham, Wells, Walton, and Road ; — more than one place for every day in the month ; and the Preachers rarely stopped two days in the same place, and were almost constantly on horseback. This circumstance was advantageous to a young preacher, who could not be supposed to have any great variety of texts or of matter, and consequently not able as yet to mi- nister constantly to the same congregation. But, as Adam Clarke diligently read the scriptures, prayed much, and endea- voured to improve his mind, he added by slow degrees to his stock, and was better qualified to minister each time of his coming round his circuit. His youth was often a grievous trial to him ; and was the subject of many perplexing reasonings; he thought, "How can I expect that men and -women, persons of forty, threescore, or more years, will come out to hear a boy preach the gospel ! And is it likely, if through curiosity they do come, that they will believe what / say! As to the young, they are too gay and giddy, to attend to divine things ; and if so, among whom lies the probability of my usefulness?" — In every place, how- ever, the attendance wasgood, at least equal to that with which his fellow labourers were favoured ; and the people in every place treated him with the greatest kindness. He was enabled to act so that no man despised his youth ; and the very cir- cumstance which he thought most against him, was that pre- cisely from which he gained his greatest advantages. When the little boy, as he was called, came to any place to preach, the congregations were always respectable, and in many places unusually large : and it soon appeared, that the Divine Spirit made the solemn truths he spoke, effectual to the salva- tion of many souls. One circtimstance relative to this, should not be omitted. ir.4 SUCCESS IN HIS FIRST CIRCDIT. Road, a country village between Trowbridge and Frome, was one of the places which belonged to his circuit : but it was so circumstanced that only two out of the four preachers, could serve it during the quarter: and when the next quarter came, the other two took their places. As Mr. C. came late into the circuit, as has been already noticed, it did not come to his turn to visit that place before the spring of 1783. The congrega- tions here were very small, and there were only two or three who had the name of Methodists in the place. Previously to his coming, the report was very general that, " a little boy was to preach in the Methodists' chapel at such a time :" and all the young men and women in the place were determined to hear him. He came, and the place long before the time, was crowded with young persons of both sexes, from fourteen to twenty-five ; very few elderly persons could get in, the house being filled before they came. He preached, the attention was deep and solemn, and though crowded, the place was as still as death. After he preached he gave out that very affecting hymn, now strangely left out of the general Hymn book, — Vain, delusive world, adieu, With all thy creature good ! Only Jesus I pursue, Who bought me with his blood. All thy pleasures I forego, And trample on thy wealth and pride ; Only Jesus will I know, And Jesus crucified. The fine voices of this young company produced great effec? in the singing. — As each verse ended with the two last lines above, when he sung the last, he stopped, and spoke to this effect ; — " My dear young friends, you have joined with me heartily, and 1 dare say, sincerely, in singing this fine hymn. You know in whose presence we have been conducting this solemn service ;— the eyes of God, of angels, and perhaps of devils, have been upon us. And what have we been doing? We have been promising in the sight of all these, and of each other, that we will renounce a vain delusive world — its plea- sures, pomp, and pride, and seek our happiness in God alone, and expect it through Him who shed his blood for us. And is not this the same to which we have been long previously bound by our baptismal vow. Have we not, when we were baptized, promised, either by ourselves, or sureties, (which promise if made in the latter way, we acknowledge we are bound to perform when we come of age,) To renounce the devil and all hisworks, the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, and all. the sinful lusts of the flesh: — that we will keep God's holy will and commandments, and. walk in the same all the days of our life! This baptismal promise which you .SUCCESS OH HIS riHST CIRCUIT. 155 have so often repeated from your catechism, is precisely the same with that contained in the fine and affecting hymn which you have been now singing. Now, shall we promise and not perform 1 Shall we vow, and not keep our vow? God has heard what we have sung and said, and it is registered in heaven. What then do you purpose to do ? Will you con- tinue to live to the world, and forget that you owe your being to God, and have immortal souls which must spend an eternity in heaven or hell, according to the state they are found in when they leave this world ? We have no time to spare, scarcely any to deliberate in : the judge is at the door, and death is not far behind. I have tried both lives : and find that a religious life has an infinite preference beyond the other. Let us therefore heartily forsake sin, vanity, and folly, and seek God by earnest prayer, nor rest till we find He has blotted out all our sins, purified our hearts, and filled us with peace and happiness. If we seek earnestly and seek through Christ Jesus, we cannot be unsuccessful." He then prayed, and many were deeply affected. That night and the next morning, thirteen persons, young men and women, came to him earnestly enquiring what they should do to be saved.* A religious concern became general throughout the village and neighbourhood ; many young persons sought and found redemption in the blood of the Lamb. The old people seeing the earnestness, and consistent walk of the young, began to reflect upon their ways : many were deeply awakened, and those who had got into a cold or lukewarm state, began to arise and shake themselves from 'he dust, and the revival of pure and undefiled religion became general. Thus God shewed him that the very circumstance (his youth) which he thought most against him and his usefulness, became a prin- cipal means in his Divine hand of his greatest ministerial success. Methodism in Road continued to prosper during the whole time he was in that circuit ; and when he visited them several years after, he found it still in a flourishing state. In several other parts of this circuit, God blessed his work, and he and his brethren lived in peace and unity, and drew cordially in the same yoke; and the people were everywhere satisfied with their teachers. Many who had long rested on their lees, were stirred up afresh ; and not a few were encou- raged to seek and find full redemption in the blood of the cross. It was on the whole, a year of prosperity, and Mr. C.'s heart grew in grace, and in the knowledge of Jesus Christ. He endeavoured to cultivate his mind also in useful know- * Fifty years after this event, one of these (then) young persons came and called upon Dr. Clarke, when lie preached at Frome for the last time. See. Appendix at the end of the Work. By the Rev. J. B. B. Clarke. 156 PROGRESS IN, AND CHECK TO, Hid STLDUOcS. ledge ; but a circumstance took place which, through his in- experience, had nearly proved ruinous to the little knowledge which he had already acquired, and would utterly have pre- vented all future accessions to his little stock. This circum- stance requires distinct relation. He had not been long in this circuit before lie received the Hebrew Grammar, which, as we have already seen, he subscribed for at Kingswood. He entered heartily on the study of this sacred language, from this work; which, though it promised much, yet really did perform a good deal. The copious lessons precluded- for a time, the necessity of purchasing a Hebrew Bible : and the analysis accompanying each lesson, soon led him into the nature of the Hebrew language ; these are carefully compiled, and are, by far, the best part of that grammar. The other parts being confused, meagre, and difficult, though its pious author had thought, (for he inserted it in his title page.) that the whole was digested in so easy a way, that a child, of seven years of age might arrive, without any other kind of help, at a competent knowledge of the sacred language ; a saying, which is in every part incorrect and exceptionable. The lessons and analytical, parts are good, the rest of the work is nearly good for nothing. In his Latin, Greek, and French he could make little im- provement, having to travel several miles every day ; and preach, on an average, thirty days in every month, and to at- tend to many things that belonged to the work of a Methodist preacher. That he might not lose the whole time which he was obliged to employ in riding, he accustomed himself to read on horseback ; and this he followed through the summer, and in the clear weather in general. In this way he read through the four volumes of Mr. Wesley's History of the Church, carefully abridged trom Mosheim , s larger work. In abridging from voluminous writers, Mr. Wesley was emi- nently skilful ; and this is one of the best things he has done of this kind : but the original work by Mosheim, is the best Church History published before or since. The practice of reading on horseback is both dangerous, because of the acci- dents to which one is exposed on the road ; and injurious to the sight, as the muscles of the eye are brought into an un- natural state of contraction, in order to counteract the too great brilliancy of the light. Yet what could he do, who had so much to learn, so often to preach, and was every day on horseback ? When he came in the evening to his place of residence for the night, he found no means of improvement, and seldom any place in which he could either conveniently study or pray. But the circumstance that had nearly put an end to his studies, is yet untold. In the preachers' room at Motcomb, near Shaftsbury, observing a Latin sentence writ- ten on the wall in pencil, relative to the vicissitudes of life, PROGKtdo IN. AND CHECK 10, Hid STUDIES. 157 he wrote under it the following lines from Virgil, corrobora- tive of the sentiment ; — Quo fata trahunt retrakuntque, scipiamur. — Per varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum, Tendimus in Coelum. Eneid. lib. v. 709. Ib. lib. 1. 204, 5. The next preacher that followed him in this place, seeing the above lines, which he could not understand, nor see the relation they bore to those previously written, wrote under them the following words : — ■' Did you write the above to show us you could write Latin "! For shame ! Do send pride to hell, from whence it came. Oh, young man, improve your time, eternity's at hand." They who knew the writer, would at once recollect, on read- ing these words, the story of Diogenes and Plato. The latter giving an entertainment to some friends of Dionysius, Di- ogenes being present, trampled with disdain on some rich carpeting, saying, Tlaru tjiv Tharuvos Ktvo which was very severe ; and though there was but little prosperity in the Circuit, yet he left it both in its spiritual and temporal concerns, in a much better state than he found it. What con- tributed much to his ill health in Bristol was, all the lodging rooms were over the chapel, and the noxious effluvia from the_ breath of so many hundreds of people who assembled there throughout the week, made the place extremely unhealthy. The plan, of building all the lodging rooms over the chapel, and on which several of the original Methodist preaching houses were built, was greatly prejudicial to the health of the preach- ers and their families. In 1790 the Conference was held in Bristol, the last in which that most eminent man of God, John Wesley, presided : who seemed to have his mind particularly impressed with the necessity of making some permanent rule that might tend to lessen the excessive labour of the preachers, which he saw was shortening the lives of many useful men. In a private meeting with some of the principal and senior preachers, which was held in Mr. W.'s study, to prepare mat- ters for the Conference, he proposed that a rule should be made that no preacher should preach thrice on the same day : Messrs. Mather, Pawson, Thompson, and others, said this would be impracticable ; as it was absolutely necessary, in most cases, ( ha t the preachers should preach thrice every Lord's day, without which the places could not be supplied. Mr. W. replied, " It must be given up ; we shall lose our preachers by such exces- sive labour." They answered, "We have all done so: and you even at a very advanced age have continued to do so." "What I have clone," said he, " is out of the question, my life and strength have been under an especial Providence ; besides, I know better than they how to preach without injuring myself ; and no man can preach thrice a day with- out killing himself sooner or later; and the custom shall not be .continued." They pressed the point no farther, finding that he was determined ; but they deceived him after all, by altering the minute thus, when it went to the press : — "No preacher shall any more preach three times in the same day (to the same congregation.)" By which clause the minute was entirely neutralized. He who preaches the Gospel as he ought, must do it with his whole strength of body and soul, and he who undertakes a labour of this kind thrice every Lord's day, will infallibly shorten his life by it. He, who, instead of preaching, talks to the people, merely speaks about good things, or tells a religious story, will never injure himself by •iuch an employment ; such a person does not labour in the 620 MR. CLARKE IN DUBLIN. word and doctrine, he tells his tale, and as he preaches so his congregation believes, and sinners are left as he found them. At this Conference it was found very difficult to get a preacher for Dublin ; for during Mr. Wesley's life, an Eng- lish preacher was generally appointed to that station, and he was considered the general assistant, that is, Mr. W.'s repre- sentative, over all the Irish Circuits and preachers. Mr. C. was proposed by several of the preachers, but Mr. W. refused because of the indifferent state of his health: however, they at last persuaded Mr. W. to consent, provided, when the pro- posal should be made to Mr. C, he should not object. It wasac- cordingly laid before him ; and, as it was his maxim never to choose a Circuit, nor object to his appointment, he agreed, and was sent over to Dublin, Aug. 1790. DUBLIN. At the time of Mr. Clarke's arrival in Dublin, he found himself exposed to many inconveniences. They had been building a new house for the preacher, with which they con- nected a large room for a charity-school. The preacher and his family were to occupy the lower part and first floor, and the charity-school was to extend over the whole of the build- ing, on the second floor. Owing to the unprincipled builder, the house was not made either according to the time or plan specified. The builder was a knave, to whom the stewards of the society had trusted the agreement signed by each, which agreement he absolutely refused ever to produce. Bad brick, bad mortar, inferior timber, and execrable workmanship, were every where apparent ; and the knave was safe, as he professed to have lost the agreement, but maintained that all was done according to the specification. The house not being ready, Mr. C. and his family were obliged to go into lodgings, which were far from being either comfortable or convenient, but it was near the chapel, and the new house was expected to be soon ready. The inconvenience of the lodging induced Mr. Clarke to enter the new house long before it was dry, which nearly cost him and his family their lives. He was shortly seized with a dreadful rheumatic affection in his head, which was supposed to be occasioned by a congestion of the blood-vessels of the brain ; and in consequence of this supposition, his physicians were led to adopt a wrong treatment, which assisted the dis- ease, and by both he was brought nearly to the gates of death. His recovery was slow and imperfect, and he was obliged, at the ensuing Conference, to return to England. Dublin was not at that time a comfortable situation for a DIFFICULTIES IN DUBLIN. 221 preacher. There had been disputes in the Society which had greatly injured it. Dr. Coke, with the approbation of Mr. Wesley, had introduced the use of the Liturgy into the chapel at White- friar Street, — this measure was opposed by some of the leading members of the Society, as tending to what they called a sepa- ration from the church ; when, in truth, it was the most effec- tual way to keep the Society attached to the spirit and doctrines of the church ; who, because they were without Divine service in church hours, were scattered throughout the city, some at church, and many more at different places of Dissenting wor- ship, where they heard doctrines that tended greatly to unsettle their religious opinions ; and in the end, many were lost to the Society. In consequence of the introduction of the Liturgy a very good congregation assembled at Whitefriar Street ; and much good might have been done, if the rich members of the Society had not continued hostile to the measure, by with- drawing their countenance and support, which they generally did. At last, both sides agreed to desire the British Confer- ence, for the saka of peace, to restore matters to their original state, and abolish the forenoon's service ; Mr. C, who at that time laboured under the same kind of prejudice, gave his voice against the continuance of the Prayers, and. at his recommen- dation, the Conference annulled the service. This was the greatest ecclesiastical error he ever committed ; and one which he deeply deplored for many years ; and was thankful to God when in the course of Divine Providence, he was enabled many years after to restore that service in the newly erected chapel in Abbey Street, which he had formerly been the instru- ment of putting down in Whitefriar Street; — that very same party, to please whom it was done, having separated from the Methodists' body, and set up a spurious and factious connexion of their own, under the name of Primitive Methodism; aprin- cipal object of which was to deprive the original connexion of its chapels, divide its societies, and in every way injure its Cnances, and traduce both its spiritual and loyal character. It may be asked, Why did Mr. C. in the year 1790, espouse the side of this party ?"— It is but justice to say that, to that class of men he was under no kind of obligation : he had never asked nor received favours from any of them. They had ne- glected him, though he was on their side of the question, as much as they did those who were opposed to them : he and his family had nothing but affliction and distress while they re- mained in Dublin, and that party neither ministered to his necessities, nor sympathised with him in his afflictions. W'hat he did was from an ill-grounded fear that the introduction of the church service might lead to a separation from the Church, (which the prejudice of education could alone suggest,) and he thought the different societies might be induced to attend at their parish churches, and so all kinds of dissent he prevented. DISTRESSES IN DUBLIN. But multitudes of those, whatever name they had been callecl by, never belonged to any church, and felt no religious attach- ment to any but those who were the means of their salvation. When, therefore, they did not find among the Methodists, re- ligious service on the proper times of the Lord's-day, they often wandered heedlessly about, and became unhinged and distracted with the strange doctrines they heard: of this Mr. Clarke was afterwards fully convinced; and saw the folly of endeavouring to force the people to attend a ministry from which they had never received any kind of spiritual advantage, and the danger of not endeavouring carefully to cultivate the soil which they had with great pain and difficulty enclosed, broken up, and sown with the good seed, — the word of the kingdom. And to prove that no favour to that party, nor expectation from them, led him to advocate their cause, he did it when he had left their city and never intended more to return. While in Dublin, the most solemn event that ever occurred in the Methodists' Connexion, took place : — the death of the Rev. John Wesley. When Mr. C. heard of it he was over- whelmed with grief; all he could do, such were his feelings, was to read the little printed Account of his last moments.* Of the agitations occasioned by his death in the Methodists' Connexion, it is unnecessary to encumber this narrative, as they have already been sufficiently detailed. Mr. Wesley's respect for Mr. C. was evidenced by the codicil to his last will, in which he made him with six others, trustees for all his literary property : and this codicil was at last found to supercede the will, and these seven administered to Mr. Wes- ley's effects, and afterwards conveyed all their rights and authority to the Conference. Shortly after Mr. Clarke came to Dublin, he entered himself 206 * On this occasion Funeral Sermons were preached for him in almost every place, and among the rest at City Road, London, by Dr. Whitehead, which being highly esteemed, it was shortly after- wards published : a copy of this Sermon Mr. Clarke sent to the learn- ed Dr. Barnard, then Bishop of Killaloe, accompanied by a letter from himself, to which his Lordship replied in the following letter. " April 21th, 1791. " Sir, " I received the favour of your letter, and the excellent Sermon that accompanied it, on the Death of Mr. Wesley, which I have perused with serious attention and uncommon satisfaction. " It contains a true and not exaggerated encomium on that faithful and indefatigable servant of God who is now at rest from his labours, and (what is of more consequence to those who read it,) an intelligi- ble and judicious anoXoyia for the doctrine that he taught, which he has set forth in the clearest terms, and with a simplicity of style, even beyond that of Mr. Wesley himself; without the smallest tincture of MR. CLARKE PROSECUTES HIS STUDIES. 2$ a medical student in Trinity College, and attended several courses of Lectures ; one on the Institutes of Medicine, by Dr. Dickison, Regius Physician; one on Anatomy, by Dr. Cleghorn ; and one on Chemistry, by Dr. R. Perceval. From these studies, aided by his own sedulous application, he ob- tained a sufficiency of medical knowledge to serve nis own large family in all common cases, and to keep what he ever considered the bane of families, all apothecaries from his door. When he thought that skill superior to his own was wanted, he employed some respectable physician : and always kept and prepared the medicines necessary for domestic use. His attendance on Dr. Perceval's Lectures brought on an intimacy between him and that excellent man and eminent Physician, whicli has been unbroken for many years, and still flourishes with high respect on both sides. While in this city he formed a charitable institution, called "The Strangers' Friend Society; and on the same principles, he founded one the following year, at Manchester; and one afterwards in London : the Rules and Plan of which were adopted and societies of a similar kind formed in almost all the chief towns in England, which still subsist in all their vigour, and have done more public good than any charitable institu- tions ever formed in the kingdom. He buried one child, his eldest daughter, in Dublin ; and re- turned to England, in the August of 1791. f MANCHESTER, 1791—2. This year the Methodist conference was held in Manches- ter, and Mr. C. being at this time in a bad state of health, was appointed to this circuit; being advised to use the Buxton (reprehensible') enthusiasm, erroneous judgment, or heterodox opinion. He has plainly expounded the truth as it is in Christ Jesus ; and 1 hope and believe that the dispersion of this little tract may do much good: as the sublimest truths of Christianity, are there reduced ad captum vulgi, and at the same time proved to the learned to be none other than such as have been always held and professed in the Chris- tian Church from the time of the Apostles till now, however indivi- duals may have lost sight of them. " I am particularly obliged to you for communicating to me this little tract, and wish that I had the pleasure of knowing the author. " I return you my thanks for the personal respect you are so good as to express for me, and should be happy to deserve it. I am, Sir, ^Your very obedient humble servant, > Thos. Killaloe. " If I have omitted to direct this properly I hope you will excuse me, as you do not mention whether you are in orders or not." 221 THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. Waters, as the likeliest means of his recovery. He tried the waters both by drinking and bathing, and was greatly bene- fitted. The following year he visited Buxton again, and had his health completely restored. Of the great utility of these waters in rheumatic affections, he has everspoken in the strong- est terms ; believing that this efficacy could not be too highly appreciated. About this time the French revolution seemed to interest the whole of Europe. On the question of its expediency and le- gality, men were strangely divided. The high Tories con- sidered it as a most atrocious rebellion; the Whigs, and those who leaned to a republican creed, considered it a most justi- fiable exertion of an enslaved nation to break its chains. ;nid free itself from the most unprincipled despotism, and abject slavery. The history of this mighty contest is well known. The nation succeeded, though opposed by all the powers of Europe; and many of its officers acquired such eminent de- grees of military glory, as surpassed every thing of the kind since the days of the Grecian Republics, and the times of the ancient Romans. Rut having defeated all its enemies, it be- came ambitious, and went through several forms of govern- ment : the mass of the people produced a National Assembly, — this a Directory, — this a consular Triumvirate, — this a Dic- tator, — this a King of the French, — this an Emperor, who ruled for a considerable time with unlimited power, and unex- ampled success; — confounding the politics of the European states, and annihilating their armies. At last Napoleon, the most accomplished general and po- tentate which modern times have produced, by an ill-judged winter campaign against Russia, had an immense army des- troyed by the frost, himself barely escaping from the enemy ; after which his good fortune seemed generally to forsake him j till at last, when on the eve of victory, at the famous battle of Waterloo, by one of those chances of war, to which many lit- tle men owe their consequent greatness, and great men theii downfall, he was defeated, and having thrown runaself on the generosity of the British, he was sent a prisoner to the Rock of St. Helena, where, by confinement and ungenerous treat- ment, he became a prey to disease and death. On the merits of this Revolution, in all the states through which it passed, the British Nation was itself greatly divided. Even religious people caught the general mania, greatly ac- celerated by the publications of Thomas Paine, particular!} his Rights of Man, insomuch that (Ik 1 pulpits of all parlies, resounded with the pro and con politics of the day, to the otter neglect of the pastoral duty ; so that " the hungry sheep Looked up and were not fed." It was the lot of Mr. Clarke to be associated at this time with two eminent men, who unfortunately took opposite sides strangers' friend society. 225 of this great political question; one pleading for the lowest republicanism, while the other exhausted himself in main- taining the divine right of kings and regular governments to do what might seem right in their own eyes, the people at large having nothing to do with the laws but to obey them. His soul was grieved at this state of things; but he went calmly on his way, preaching Christ crucified for the redemption of a lost world; and though his abilities were greatly inferior to those of his colleagues, his congregations were equal to theirs, and his word more abundantly useful. Political preachers neither convert souls, nor build up believers on their most holy faith: one may pique himself on his loyalty, the other on his liberality and popular notions of government ; but in the sight of the Great Head of the Church, the first is a sound- ing binss, the second a tinkling cymbal. — Arcades ambo El cantare pares, et responderc parati. Both stubborn statesmen, both with skill inspired, To scold or bluster as their cause required. When preachers of the gospel become parties in party poli- tics, religion mourns, the church is unedified, and political dis- putes agitate even the faithful of the land. Such preachers, no matter which side they take, are no longer the messengers of glad tidings, but the seedsmen of confusion, and wasters of the heritage of Christ. Though Mr. Clarke had fully made up his mind on the politics of the day, and never swerved from his Whig principles, yet in the pulpit, there was nothing heard from him but Christ crucified, and the salvation pro- cured by His blood. While in this town, he formed that now well known in- stitution called the Strangers' 1 Friend Society, which has spread over most of the populous towns and cities of England ; and has been the means of turning many to righteousness, as well as of saving many thousands from an untimely death. In the town and vicinity of Manchester, he laboured for two years. Here he found many valuable friends, and had the satisfaction to know that he had neither run in vain, nor spent his strength for nought. APPENDIX. • APPENDIX. The following Letters were written to Miss Mary- Cooke, by Mr. Clarke, before they were married. I did not think myself authorized to introduce them into the body of Dr. Clarke's own narrative, which would so far have been interpolated ; judging it to be much better that the account of his Life, which he had written for publica- tion, should appear without any additions from either his own pen or those of others. Yet as they are illustrative of the preceding part of these Memoirs, and bring him for- ward speaking his own feelings in his own person, they are here inserted. They declare and describe various si- tuations of his mind and circumstances ; entering into that sort of conversational detail which causes events to rise up living before us, and we thus become companions in his thoughts and spectators of his actions. Before, however, the Reader proceeds to the perusal of these Letters, he may be pleased with knowing the circum- stances of an acquaintance which Mr. Clarke formed in the year 1791, in Dublin, with a Turkish Janissary. The account I have drawn up from memoranda in the hand- writing of Dr. Clarke. During Mr. Clarke's residence in Dublin, in 1791, he was called upon by a Turk, who had just arrived from Liverpool, and, being but little acquainted with the Eng- lish language, he had inquired for some one who under- stood either Arabic or Spanish ; he was directed to Mr. Clarke, to whom he soon made known his situation ; but, 20 230 APPENDIX. who received him at Hist with considerable caution : ac- quaintance, however, convinced him of Ibrahim ben. Ali's integrity, and daily intercourse ripened into a friend this casual visiter. The principles of Christianity, in which Ibrahim had formerly been partially instructed, Mr. Clarke explained to him more fully, and in the course of a few months he was admitted at his earnest request to the rite of Baptism, which was performed by Mr. Rutherford in Whitefriar-street Chapel, Mr. Clarke interpreting into Spa- nish the words of the Baptismal service. He received the name of Adam. The account which he gave of himself to Mr. Clarke, was in substance the following : — He was born at Con- stantinople in the year 1756 ; his father, Ali ben Mustapha, possessed an estate about six miles from Constantinople worth 30,000 machbou, about 10.000Z. sterling. From his youth he had much of the fear of God, which his father, who was a zealous and conscientious Mussulman, endeavoured to improve. Among the many slaves which his father possessed, there chanced to be several Spaniards, who frequently spoke to Ibrahim of the God of the Chris- tians, and of Jesus Christ the Saviour of the world ; add- ing, even at the hazard of their lives, that Mohammed was not a true Prophet, and that his doctrines were false. These things were not without their effect upon Ibrahim's mind. At eleven years of age he was circumcised, and married at thirteen to his first wife Halima, who was then twelve. Shortly after his marriage he performed the pilgrimage to Mecca. His mother, Halima, was a Christian, native of the Island of Zante, and having been stolen by some Ve- netians, was bought in Aleppo by Ali ben Mustapha, who loved her too well to take another wife. She preserved her love to the Christian religion, and though she never dared to speak openly in its favour to her children, yet she APPENDIX. 231 frequently gave them intimations that there was a purer way of worshipping the true God than that in which they were instructed. When they were old or sickly, she often obtained the liberty of many of her husband's Christian slaves. The next year Ibrahim married his second wife Fatima, and his third Ayesha, by all of whom he had six children, three by the first wife, two by the second, and one by the last. His comforts at home were not so great as to pre- vent him from thinking of travelling, and in order to gra- tify his desire of seeing more of mankind, his friends ad- vised him to procure a post in the army ; this he proposed to his father, who obtained him a Captain's commission among the Janissaries. After he had been about five years in the army, a most singular and awful occurrence took place. Two young officers, with whom he had contracted a very intimate ac- quaintance, and who lodged close to himself in the same barracks, were found one morning murdered in their beds. He and they used to go together to the Mosque very early in the morning, according to the custom of the Mohamme- dans : the above-mentioned morning he sent his servant to call them as usual, but receiving no answer, Ibrahim went to prayers by himself. On returning to his rooms he called again, and again received no answer. About eight the Basha came and inquired for them ; he found their door locked and no answer was returned to his summons ; he then ordered the door to be forced open, and on his en- tering they were both found with their throats cut, and their bodies stabbed in several places. Ibrahim, who was known to be intimate with the murdered men and who slept in the next room, was accused of the murder and commit- ted to prison. His declarations of innocence were in vain, and his friends, by the exercise of both influence and en- treaty, could only obtain five days to be granted, in which 232 APPENDIX. to seek and discover the murderer. On the fifth day, a plate of black olives was sent to him as a token that to- morrow he must die. His father, mother, and friends came to have their last interview; and his mother's courage appears to have been aroused by the imminence of the dan- ger, for she openly begged him as a dying man, to trust in the Supreme God alone, and to pay no attention to any part of the Mohammedan doctrine. An old Spaniard, who was a slave in the prison, brought him a cup of coffee, and sitting down by his side, said, " Turn Christian and recommend your soul to God through Christ Jesus, and he will save you unto life eternal." At small intervals Ibrahim repeated this three or four times, and was per- suaded that his mother had spoken to the slave on this subject before her departure from the prison. The night he passed without sleep, and at six the next morning the attendants of the prison came to his cell. On hearing the doors open his strength forsook him and he fainted away; — but, when recovered from his swoon, what was his joy to be presented with his pardon ! ! In the course of that night two private soldiers confessed that they had murdered the officers in requital of some harsh treatment which they had received at their hands : — they were instantly executed. To recompense the old sla-"e, Ibrahim bought him his liberty, gave him some money, and sent him to Spain ; and the slave in return counselled him to continue his trust in the Lord Jesus, who had so wonderfully delivered him, and to do all the good that lay in his power to all men, not minding to what sect or party or nation they belonged. From this time an insatiable desire after a farther acquaint- ance with the Christian religion took possession of his soul, and never left him till he was fully converted to God. About this time the Russians and Turks waged war with each other concerning the navigation of the Black Sea, and it fell to Ibrahim's lot to be engaged in the cam- APPENDIX. 333 paign : he was in four battles, received many severe wounds, and at last was taken prisoner in the Province of Walla- chia, on the banks of the Danube, and carried to Arzeni- cour, about fifty miles from St. Petersburgh : here he re- mained about two years, and obtained his liberty as the grateful acknowledgment of a lady in that neighbourhood, whose eyes he had restored to health and strength. The good treatment he experienced, his freely conversing with the Christians of that place, and rejoicing to hear of the Christian religion, excited the envy and malevolence of two fellow captives, who wrote to Constantinople, that Ibrahim had turned Christian, and that there was every reason to believe that he had proved a traitor to his country, by de- livering his troops into the hands of the Russians. These slanders had such an influence at Constantinople, that his brother warned him not to return till all had been investi- gated and cleared up. Finding that there was no hope of his being able speedily to revisit his native country, he embarked on board of a ship bound to Copenhagen, and thence he sailed for Liverpool. While Ibraham was a prisoner in Russia, his parents, wives, and children, had removed to Ismail as a place of greater security, while their relative was under suspicion; when this place was stormed and sacked by the Russians, under Suvarroff", all the inhabitants were put to the sword, and the whole of his family perished in the hideous slaughter-house, excepting one brother and sister, who had been left behind to take care of their father's estate, near Constantinople. From Liverpool, as has been stated, Ibrahim came to Dublin, where he obtained the acquaintance of Mr. Clarke, by whom he was more fully taught the way of salvation, and inducted into the Christian Church : he continued to maintain an upright character, seldom passed a day with- out spending part of it with Mr. Clarke's family, and 20* 234 APPENDIX. when they left Dublin for Liverpool, he accompanied them, remaining during Mr. Clarke's two years' abode in that town. Manchester was the next place to which the family removed, whither also Ibrahim accompanied them, and after residing some considerable time there in con- stant intercourse with Mr. Clarke, he departed for Ame- rica, where he married a lady of the Baptist persuasion, continuing faithful to his religious profession, and ulti- mately dying the death of the righteous. The following are some of the Letters which were writ- ten by Mr. Clarke to Miss Mary Cooke, afterwards Mrs Clarke. LETTERS. 233 LETTERS. I. Les Terres, Dec. 24, 1786. May every grace that constitutes the whole mind that was in Jesus be multiplied unto my dear Mary, that she may stand perfect and entire in the will of God, lacking nothing ! Amen. You once asked my opinion concerning the meaning of the phrase " the Eternal Son of God." I gave it you, and howsoever singular, and unauthorized by Doctors, it may appear, yet I never had any rea- son to alter it, nor do I believe I ever shall. After having been sorely tost in beating about the common bay for anchorage, without success, I have at last, through the tender mercy of God, found it where 1 almost ride alone. As long as I believe Jesus Christ to be the Infinite Eternal I AM, so long I suppose I shall reject the common notion of his " Eternal Sonship ;" not only because it is an absurdity and palpable contradic- tion, but because I cannot find it in the Bible. On His Godhead, the foundation of the salvation of my soul is laid : every thing therefore that derogates from that, I most cordially reject. In the following extract you may see the method made use of to account for the com- mon opinion, and make it appear without contradiction. The book from which I have made this extract, is entitled, L'Evangile Medite, par L'Abbe Giraudeau. Tom. i. Meditat. 25*. Sur Jean i. 1. " The Mysteries of the Logos (or Word) considered with respect to Himself. " 1. The Evangelist St. John represents the Word IN God : and first his Eternity. ' In the beginning was the Word.' When the world was created, the Word then existed. If it then existed in the beginning, it was before the beginning : and if it u>as before the beginning, it had no beginning : therefore it is eternal. " 2. The Evangelist points out His subsistence as a distinct person, for he says ' the Word was JX God ;' t. e. in God the Father, of whom it is engendered, or produced by way of understanding, or knowledge. God the Father, who is the first Person in the Divine Nature, knew himself, and formed by His knowledge, a perfect image of His sub- 236 LETTER!?. stance i this is His Word, His Son, and a Person really distinct from Himself. It is the same of the Holy Ghost, (of whom the Evangelist does not speak here, because his design was only to make Jesus Christ known.) The Father and the Son love one another with an infinite love ; — that love is the Holy Ghost, who proceeds from the Father and the Son by way of spiration, and who makes the third person of that adorable Trinity. " 3. The Evangelist points out His Divinity, ' The word VMS God for there is nothing in God but what is eternal, and there is nothing in God which is not, God. The Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spi- rit, are three Persons, who have the same Nature, and same Divi- nity, &c. &c." Exotics are generally more esteemed than native productions ; but though the above (especially that written in italics) has the property of exoticism to recommend it, yet I dare say you will be in no haste to incorporate it with your own creed. Would it not be better to let that sacred unfathomable mystery alone, than by attempting to define it, to run oneself into such absurdities and futilities as the above ? By the Abbe's method every man or woman may form themselves into three distinct persons. For let a man only know himself, then he has a second person ; again, let him love himself and his knowledge, and then he has a third ! How much more excellent are the plain words of Scripture! — "There are Three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost, and these Three are One." What a piece of insanity to attempt to find out the Godhead, and to ascertain the mode of its existence ! and yet this was the method the Schoolmen, and the primitive Fathers, made use of to explain the Trinity. See Chambers' Encyclopaedia, sub voce. Guernsey, Jan. 23, 1787. Last evening I arrived in safety from Jersey, after an absence of only seven days. (A few minutes after my arrival I received yours of the 12th instant, which had arrived here on the 20th.) My voyage has been useful both to my body and soul. I met with some deeply experienced Christians, compared with whom I am but a very little child. An elderly and a young woman are the most remarkable The former seems to possess all the solemnity and majesty of Chris- tianity ; she lias gone and is going through acute corporeal sufferings, but these add to her apparent dignity : her eyes, every feature of her face, to ether with all her words, are uncommonly expressive of the word ETERNITY, in that importance in which it is considered by those whose minds are devoted to deep reflection. To her I put myself LETTERS. frequently to school, during my short abode in the island, and could not avoid learning ?«i/cA, unless I had been invincibly ignorant, or dia- bolically proud. The latter seems possessed of all that cheerful hap- piness and pure love, which so abundantly characterize the Gospel of Christ. Peace, meekness, and joy, judiciously immingled by the saga- cious economy of the Holy Spirit, constitute a glorious something, affectinglij evident in all her deportment, which I find myself quite at a loss to describe. Two such I know not that I have before found : they are indeed the rare and the excellent of the earth. A summary of both characters seems comprised in this :— of the former it may be truly said, " Not grave with sternness," — of the latter, " Nor with lightness free." You are excellent at ideal realization, I leave you to indulge it here in respect of both persons, without being much afraid of its running into the excessive. I do not intend to write a Treatise on Conscience, and those other punctilios connected with it : I desire you to supply my lack of ser- vice : I know you are capable enough unless your health forbids. For my own part, I am well assured I shall never make an author : were there no other reasons, my ideas flow too quick for the slow pro- cess of black upon white. The thought, therefore, / entirely relin- quish. What I spoke to you relative to the " Eternal Sonship" of the Almighty's Fellow, is not a slight opinion with me, but a deeply gra- ven sentiment. I have read some of the strongest reasonings of the Schoolmen and the Fathers of the church on this head, but their finest hypotheses appear so unmeaning, trifling, and futile, as to afford no satisfaction to a sincere inquirer after essential truth. I believe that which ice discover of this glorious truth is the opinion which Eternity will exhibit only in greater degrees, and with more abundant evidence. It appears to me that the Arian and Socinian schemes, cannot only be strongly combated, but effectually overthrown, by a firm adherence to, and judicious infering from, these propositions. As Arianism, &c, abounds now, I think the Church of God has much need of a Treatise of this kind : were I equal to the task it should soon appear in the world ; but here I must stop, finding much reason to adore my gra- cious Maker, notwithstanding he has not given me adequate abilities. I expect, according to your intimated promise, a whole book of " Detached Thoughts" from you when I see you. It has been winter with my genius for some time past: hardly the germs of happy thought on important topics have been apparent. I find I cannot 236 LETTERS. create genius, though I can obliterate or at least stupify it : but how- ever this may be, I find it possible to love, fear and obey an astonish- ingly kind and merciful God. Surely his name deserves all the praises heaven and earth can yield, for his long-suffering tenderness towards me, who am — God knows what ! You ask me, " Cannot yoti join with me in sympathetic bearing of Mr. 's trouble ¥' i. e. for the loss of his amiable wife. I really think he v/ho lias lost an amiable pious wife, (such I believe Mrs. was,) has sustained the greatest loss he could on this side eter- nity next to the loss of his God, if he had one : and that it is a duty to mourn with those who mourn, I cordially allow. " Well then, will you not sympathise with Mr. V I must be assured first that he mourns before I can mourn with him. But I have strong reasons to induce me to believe that he mourns not, though the wife, the friend, and more than friend, is dead ! You are perhaps surprised. TaKe the following extract from a letter from one of the excellent of the earth, who I know is incapable of lying or exaggerating. " The day after I received your letter, Mrs. died : we expect that Mrs. will soon leave US, as it is likely that Mr. and she will soon be married." Seeing this is the case, I ask, is the present con- nexion, and a mourning for death's last inroad, compatible? Is there any room for you or me, think you, to bear a " sympathetic part" in sorrows that no longer exist 1 I deplore her not : she is taken away from the evil (that is likely) to come ! Let us catch her mantle ! You cannot be too much in earnest for full salvation, therefore con- tinue pleading the " Promise of the Father," for it is yea and amen to you, the blessing is as free as the air you breathe, — the willingness of God to fulfil his promise to you infinitely exceeds my description and your conception : I know unbelief will either assert the contrary, or raise some difficulty, but dont give ear to it, remember, " Faith, mighty frith, the promise feet, And looks to that alone ; Laughs at impossibilities, And cries, It shall be done." Salvation by faith is a more simple plain easy doctrine, than one in a thousand imagines. That complexity and difficulty in which it is generally viewed, keep numbers from going up at once to possess the good land. I allow, so long as mystical divinity is consulted, the pro- mise of His coming must be looked upon as exceedingly distant, as that only breathes " a long work will God make upon the earth ;" but the word of faith by the gospel says the kingdom of God is at hand : yea, the means of receiving it is in thy heart, and in thy mouth. In short, looking on it as distant, will make it distant: whereas, believing it as near, will bring it near. LETTERS. 239 III. April 4, 1787. Being attacked from so many quarters there was little view of my lingering long, especially as I had been slowly wasting for some months before. The people were greatly alarmed, and proclaimed a day of fasting, prayer, and weeping, to snatch their poor preacher from the grave. Their sorrow caused me to feel : — for myself, I could neither weep nor repine ; but I could hardly forbear the former on their account. — The Doctor, on his second visit, found that I was severely attacked by the jaundice; and so took the cure of that first in hand : but withal observed that I should not regain my health properly, nor be free from bilious complaints, till I resumed my former method — of riding. Through much mercy, I am now much mended : my cough is almost entirely removed ; and my doctor has this day informed me that my tawny disorder begins to abate. I am now only confined to my room ; but am very much enfeebled. Indeed, I am little else (considered abstractedly from my spirit) than a quantity of bones and sinews, wrapt up in none of the best coloured skins. But this also has, and will, work together with other providential dispensations for my good. When I was almost at the worst I opened my Septuagint on the 91st Psalm, and on the three last verses, which are much more emphatical than the English, particularly the middle clause of the 15th verse: "/ am with him in affliction." Glory be to God my Saviour, I found it to be so ! O, may I to eternity lie in deep humility at His feet, recognizing the immenseness of His mercy, and the utter viler unworthiness of the subject on which it has wrought so many miracles, truly expressive of its own unconfined benignity ! Do you wish to know how I was taken care of during my sickness ? I indeed lacked nothing that could be procured ; nor was there any difficulty to procure persons to set up with me day or ni. APPLETON &. CO'a. PUBLICATIONS. had been enlightened and benefited by his labors — in the prime of his life, and in the full possession of his faculties , but he who has left such fruits behind him cannot be said tc have immaturely perished." At the time Dr. Dibdin penned these remarks, the libraries of mansions were the only places in which it was most proba- ble the Expositor would be found ; for ten years ago it was not accessible to humble readers. But happily the press of Messrs. J. R. & C. Childs, of Bungay, has furnished us with the edi- tion before us, incomparably superior in elegance, and we be- lieve in accuracy, to any edition of the work which we have before seen. This noble volume forms a companion to the miscellaneous works of Dr. Doddridge, which we highly recommend, and we must congratulate their enterprising proprietors and the public, that now an edition of the complete works of that in- comparable man may be obtained in two volumes, at less than one half the price at which they were formerly published, and that for typographical beauty and general convenience, it is greatly to be preferred to the old edition in 10 octavos. — [Con- gregational Magazine, April 2, 1832. D. A. &. Co., being the publishers of the above edition, would particularly invite all to examine its execution. The price of which will be regulated according to the number taken. To students or others, procuring subscribers for the work, it will be offered at a reduction. CRUDEN'S CONCORDANCE, of the New Testament, by Alexander Crnden, M. A., to which is prefixed a memoir of the Author, by W. Youngman — abridged from the last London edition, by Rev. Win. Pat- ten. 18mo. A fine engraved portrait ac- companies the work. This work is very highly recommended for Sabbath schools, Bible classes, and private families, containing all the words which may be sought for relating to the New Testament ; and thus it will be found to be the only complete pocket edition extant which will be of any service to the possessor. A copy of the work may be had gratis of the publish- ers, if the object is to examine as to its merits, for the purpose of intro- ducing it— as being confident that it is the only complete pocket edition yet published, having spared no pains to have it free from typographical ei rora and executed every way in the best manner, as to paper, type, and printing, (highly creditable to the foundry of Conner &, Cooke.) they throw it before the public, fully confident that it will meet with their approbation and patronage. ft DATE DUE •