LIBRARY OF PRINCETON 
 
 MAY 1 2 2C04 
 
 THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 
 
DOMESTIC PORTEAITUEE 
 
 OR, THE SUCCESSFUL 
 
 APPLICATION OF RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLE 
 
 EDUCATION OF A FAMILY 
 
 EXEMPLIKIED IN THE 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THREE OF THE DECEASED CHILDREN 
 
 REV. LEGH RICHMOND 
 
 WITH A FEW 
 
 INTRODUCTURY REMARKS ON CHRISTIAN EDUCATION, 
 
 BY THE REV. E. B IC KER STETIJ , 
 
 RECTOR OF WATTON, HISTS. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS 
 No. 28 5 BR.OADWAY. 
 
 1849. 
 
mTRODUCTORY REMARKS 
 
 CHRISTIAN EDUCATION 
 
 BY THE REV. E. BICKERSTETH, 
 
 RECTOR OF WATTON, HERTS. 
 
 The addition of the ''Domestic Portraiture" to the 
 Christian's Family Library, has been considered a favora- 
 ble opportunity for prefixing a few remarks on Christian 
 education, — a most important part of every parent's duty, 
 and the root of innumerable future blessings. In doing 
 this, the Editor hopes, in some measure, to concentrate 
 within a short compass, the many truly valuable exhorta- 
 tions and pressing entreaties to his children, by his re- 
 vered and beloved friend, Mr. Richmond, which this vol- 
 ume contains. 
 
 It is common to hear complaints, that the children of 
 pious parents disappoint the expectations Avhich are usu- 
 ally, and not unnaturally formed ; and it is true that this 
 is too often the case ; and that in some instances children 
 piously educated, will, when they break through the 
 restraints of education and habit, become excessively 
 wicked ; and they may even, like Eli's and David's chil- 
 dren, perish in their wickedness. In these extreme cases, 
 there has probably been either some serious neglect of 
 parental duty, or the formation of unhappy connections 
 with others ; at least every Christian parent is dumb be- 
 
Vm INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 
 
 fore God under such awful dispensations, and is feelingly 
 alive to the conviction of his own sinfulness. 
 
 But, after all, the mass of Christian piety in a country 
 will be found to be in the generation of the pious ; and 
 though God shows his own sovereignty in raising up, 
 sometimes, an eminent instrument of good from among 
 the most wicked, he also shows the riches and the faith- 
 fulness of his OAvn promises : " The generation of the up- 
 right is blessed ; Train up a child in the way he should go, 
 and when he is old he loill not dejjart from it.'''' 
 
 It may be useful briefly to notice some causes of want 
 of success, and also to touch upon the means of a suc- 
 cessful Christian education. 
 
 In considering the causes of want of success we must 
 first notice the disregard of one of the most important 
 religious principles, a due knowledge of which lies at the 
 root of all success in this Avork — that all children are by 
 nature born in sin, and the children of wrath : that they 
 inherit from their parents a carnal mind, which is enmity 
 against God. However pious the parent, his nature is 
 corrupt, and descends to his children. From us they 
 derive that nature, and all success in education musl 
 be owing to God blessing our efforts, and giving them 
 His grace, that they may gain dominion over their natu- 
 ral and imbred corruption. The Christian parent wil) 
 ever be watchful to detect the workings of this corruption, 
 even in those things which may appear to the eye of the 
 world pleasing and delightful. That alone which is the 
 fruit of the Spirit, that alone which is superior to na- 
 ture, will satisfy him. Whilst he will forward and culti- 
 vate whatever is lovely, and of good report, he will be, 
 above all, anxious that everything of this kind should 
 proceed from Christian principle, and not from the mere 
 love of human praise. 
 
 The indvdgence of parents, proceeding from an idolatry 
 
ON CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. IX 
 
 of their children, is one of the most common sources of 
 ill-success. This was the ruin of Eli's and of David's 
 children, and it is a cause which is constantly operating 
 in a vast variety of forms, such as indulgence in appetite^ 
 in dress, in pleasures, in yielding to any obviously im- 
 proper requests, and in seeking rather to gratify their 
 present wishes than to secure their future, their spiritual, 
 and their highest good. 
 
 The inconsistencies of Christian parents in their con- 
 duct and conversation, have a most pernicious influence 
 orer their children. The Spirit of the world — the lust 
 of the fiesh, the lust of the eye, and the p'ide of life — man- 
 ifested by a parent, are eagerly and most naturally im- 
 bibed by children. They are creatures of imitation in all 
 things, but they have a natural aptitude in imitating 
 whatever is wrong. The bad tempers, the haughtiness, 
 the self-will of the parents are very soon indeed copied 
 by the child. Their admiration of riches, or rank, or 
 talent, naturally engenders similar inordinate views and 
 feelings in their children. Thus our sins punish us in our 
 oifspring. 
 
 Improper connections which children are allowed to 
 form with others, whether of a similar or of a superior 
 age, but especially of the latter, often ruin the best laid 
 plans for education. Children are so soon captivated by 
 delusive and specious appearances of superior wisdom, 
 leading them to despise others, and by the vain promises 
 of liberty and pleasure, that one evening spent amidst the 
 fascinations of worldly society may unsettle and perma- 
 nently injure their young and inexperienced minds. 
 
 Amid the common complaints of want of success in 
 the bringing up of children, complaints which are often 
 heard from Christian parents, — it is pleasant to contem- 
 plate those instances which sometimes occur, as in 
 the families of Mr. Richmond, Mr. Scott, and others 
 
X INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 
 
 which might be named, where results more gratifying have 
 been realized. 
 
 The inquiry is most interesting and most important, 
 whence arises the difference ? 
 
 A customary resource for consolation and almost for 
 justification in cares of an unhappy description is the doc- 
 trine of the sovereignty of God. 
 
 Often, however, this great and awful doctrine is brought 
 in as a cover to parental neglect, when it would be just as 
 reasonable to assign it as an excuse for exposing your child 
 to a pestilence, or for leaving him in sickness without 
 medical aid. 
 
 The cases above alluded to, and others quite numerous 
 enough to form a rule, and not an exception, show, that 
 when certain means are used, the answering results may 
 be expected to follow ; and that the failure of the parents' 
 hopes, may generally be traced to their own deficiency in 
 conduct. 
 
 In speaking however of means, — a word perliaps in- 
 adequate, — it is desirable to use that word in its utmost 
 extent ; to look upon it not merely as comprehending a 
 certain routine of duties, but as embracing the whole ob- 
 ligation of the parent to the child. 
 
 And the first and main oblio^ation is — love. It is to 
 be feared that the real root of the miischief of which we 
 are speaking, little as it may be suspected, lies in a defi- 
 ciency here. 
 
 Parents ascribe the loss of their children to God's not 
 having willed otherwise ; when, perhaps, it would be much 
 nearer the truth to say that they themselves have not 
 willed otherwise. 
 
 They are wanting in a deep sense of the real worth 
 and danger of their children's souls. They wish and 
 hope that they may be serious, good, and religious ; but 
 it is a sort of faint, ineffectual wish, not that ardent de- 
 
ON CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. XI 
 
 sire, that unceasing anxiety -svhich filled Mr. Richmond*s 
 mind ; not that love which made St. Paul exclaim, " My 
 little children, of whom I travail in hirth again, till Christ 
 be formed in you." 
 
 From these feeble hopes and languid wishes flow cold 
 and formal prayers, offered as a duty, not as the inmost 
 desire of the soul. There is no wrestling for the children 
 with the "I will not let thee go except thou bless me," 
 of Augustine's mother. Nor are there the prayers of 
 faith ; nor can they be expected to bring down blessings ; 
 since the promise is " Whatsoever ye shall ask, believing, 
 ye shall receive." They are often offered up from a mere 
 sense of duty, without any expectation, and almost with- 
 out any sincere desire that they will be answered. With 
 such weak and faint impressions of heavenly concerns, 
 we may expect to find a fast hold kept upon the world. 
 Just in proportion as the one is undervalued, the other is 
 sure to be overestimated. The interests of the present 
 life are eagerly sought after, the affairs of eternity post- 
 poned ; hence all manner of temptations creep in. 
 
 A Christian parent had once, led by prospects of 
 worldly advancement, placed his son beyond the reach of 
 the public means of grace, and in the midst of manifold 
 temptations. The son was shortly after on a visit to his 
 father ; and the parent prayed, in his family worship, that 
 the boy might be preserved amidst the various perils of 
 his situation. The youth reflected. What ! does my father 
 put me into the devil's mouth ; and then pray to God that 
 the devil may not be allowed to swallow me up ? Surely 
 to have occasioned such a reflection from a child, must 
 have been very painful to the parent ? 
 
 The result of this line of conduct, half Christian, half 
 woi-ldly, is to bring up a race of young persons acquainted 
 with the truths of religion, but without any effectual feel- 
 ing of its power. They are thus in a woi*se situation than 
 
Xll INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 
 
 even the more ignorant ; since the sound of the gospel 
 can hardly reach the latter without some awakening of 
 the conscience ; whereas on the former everything that 
 can be said falls as a mere repetition of what had been 
 fully known for years, but never deeply or effectually 
 felt. 
 
 The spirit of Mr. Richmond, then, his fervent love for 
 his children's souls, his never-ceasing anxiety, his constant 
 watchfulness, his daily and hourly prayers, not of form 
 but of faith — furnish unitedly a model, to which the at- 
 tention of Christian parents may be most advantageously 
 directed. 
 
 Resting in the form of godliness without its life and 
 power, is one of the great dangers to which the Church 
 is peculiarly exposed in this day of general profession ; 
 and parents had need be very watchful that they do not 
 unawares foster the most dangerous self-deception in their 
 children, by giving them credit for genuine regeneration 
 and conversion, where there has been nothing more than 
 excited natural feelings without any real spiritual change. 
 When the young possess notliing more than what natu- 
 rally amiable dispositions, under religious culture, may 
 easily produce, they are soon overset in the rough sea of 
 this world's trials and temptations. Let parents beware 
 of too soon speaking peace and rest to an awakened mind, 
 or a troubled conscience. 
 
 The means of a successful Christian education have 
 next to be noticed. And we would not here dwell on 
 subjects which are generally acknowledged, such as 
 prompt obedience and the honoring of parents, but 
 would rather point out things which are too often neg- 
 lected. 
 
 1. The first thing is rightly to know the true founda- 
 tion OF OUR HOPES OF succES-s. This is nothing less solid 
 vhan the sui'e promises of God's word, many of which are 
 
ON CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. XIU 
 
 very precious to a Christian parent's heart, (such as 
 Deut. vii. 9; Psalm xxxvii. 25, 26, c. 5, cii. 28, ciii. 17, 
 18, cxii. 2 ; Proverbs xi. 21 ; xx. V, xxii. 6 ; Isaiah xliv. 
 3—5, H. 8, Ixv. 23 ; Luke i. 50 ; Acts ii. 38, 39.) To know, 
 rightly, this foundation, and humbly and simply to build 
 upon it in the acting out of these promises, which were 
 sealed to our children in Christian baptism, through faith, 
 and prayer, and our daily conduct, patiently waiting on 
 God to fulfil them in his own time, — constitute an impor- 
 tant first step to successful education. 
 
 2. We must join with this a clear view of the only 
 governing cause of success — the free and rich grace of 
 God our Father. All his children are born not of blood, 
 nor of the luill of the flesh, nor of the ivill of man, hut of 
 God. Here is the oi io^in, here is the maintainino- and con- 
 tinning strength, here is the final triumph of all our efforts, 
 and to cultivate a habit of constantly looking to, and ha- 
 bitually depending upon God in daily prayer, in every 
 instruction, and in every plan formed for our children, is 
 a main principle for obtaining their spiritual good. The 
 faith and prayers of a parent are specially prevalent with 
 our gracious Redeemer. Mark ix, 23, 24. 
 
 3. Another material point is to let our eye be single 
 IN seeking primarily their spiritual welfare ; an all- 
 directing and controlling principle in education should be 
 to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, for 
 our children. This should influence us, as to the place in 
 which we fix them, the company to which we introduce 
 them, the books we wish them to read, the situation we 
 desire for them, and, in short, as to everything we do con- 
 cerning them. 
 
 4. The diligent and right use of the means of 
 GRACE, is a most important help for children — such ns 
 daily reading the scriptures, prayer, habits of self-exami- 
 nation, regular attendance on public worship, and as they 
 
XIV INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 
 
 gTOw up, contirmation and the Lord's Supper. But be- 
 sides all these means, the most important, perhaps, is that 
 constant inculcation of divine truth to which we are so 
 pktinly directed in the scriptures : These luords which I 
 command thee this day shall he in thine heart ; and thou 
 y.tudt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shall 
 talk of them tvhen thou sittest in thine house, and when 
 ikon icalkest hy the tvay, and when thou liest down, and 
 when thou risest up ; and thou shall hind them for a sign 
 upon thine hand, and they shall he as frontlets between thine 
 eyes. And thou shall write them upon the posts of thine 
 house and on thy gates. Particular instruction of the 
 children by themselves, and a mother's private and indi- 
 vidual conversation with them are also of great moment. 
 
 5. Discipline is a matter of constant necessity. A 
 well-disciplined Christian child is the best gift which a 
 parent can bestow on his country ; whilst children left to 
 themselves, and with no settled habits of patient and 
 steady application, are likely to be sources of much trou- 
 ble to their fellow creatures. Discipline ^Y\\\ seek con- 
 stantly to restrain, check, and subdue till that is wrong, 
 or leading to wrong, and to animate and encourage in all 
 that is right. Every day brings fresh occasion for its ex- 
 ercise, with regard to appetite, pleasures, temper, covet- 
 ing the things of others, neglecting duties, disorderly 
 practices, and indeed all the varied events of life. 
 
 G. Punishment must not be withheld, but must be va- 
 lied according to the degree of the fault. It is important 
 also that the scale by which we measure the degrees of 
 wrong should be scriptural. Sins directly against God, 
 and moral faults, such as falsehood, passion, and taking 
 anything that does not belong to them, call for the se- 
 verest punishment, and should never be passed by without 
 chastisement : while accidents from carelessness, though 
 they may occasion us a serious injury, yet should be vis- 
 
ON CHRISTIAN EDUCATION, XV 
 
 ited with a lighter penalty, as not being intentional faults. 
 On the mode of punishment the reader will find valuable 
 remarks in this volume. 
 
 7. Foster and encourage by wise and Christian ap- 
 probation everything that is lovely and excellent. Much 
 may be done in forming the character, by due attention 
 to this; all truth, openness, generosity, self-denial, and 
 love to others ; all diligence and application in good pur- 
 suits, should have the parental smile of favor; as all those 
 things which are opposite to these should be discouraged 
 by marks of disapprobation. 
 
 8. Earnestly watch against seeking great things 
 FOR YOUR CHILDREN. 0, the inexpressible folly of aim- 
 ing to gain for them high connections, in classes of society 
 above them ; and for this end placing them in situations 
 of danger, that they may form associations with their su- 
 periors ! What havoc has this made among the children 
 of pious parents ! Mind not high things, should be our 
 plain rule. Seckest thou great things for thyself? Seek 
 them not. God give us grace to attend to these clear 
 directions of his word. If we trust him, his providence 
 Avill call our children to those scenes in which they may 
 safely and honorably serve others, and glorify his name ; 
 and we shall be preserved from the anguish of seeing 
 them bring reproach on the gospel of Cln-ist. 
 
 9. The last thing that I would notice is our own con- 
 sistency OF conduct, as essential to the full effect of a 
 Christian education. If Christian parents act inconsist- 
 ently with their blessed principles — if they are irritable, 
 selfish, proud, disorderly, passionate, and covetous — Avhat 
 can be expected but similarly evil tempers in their chil- 
 dren. But if they are poor in spirit, meek, mourning for 
 sin, and hungering and thirsting after righteousness, and 
 possess and manifest the other graces of a Christian, it is 
 an immense auxiliary to all their religious instruction. In 
 
XVI INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 
 
 fact, it is one just retribution of all evil ways, that our 
 children soon manifest similar evil ways ; on the other 
 hand, an exhibition of holy conduct enforces every pious 
 exhortation, and strengthens every solid principle which 
 we endeavor to communicate to them. 
 
 Tl.e Editor subjoins a httle sketch of principles of edu- 
 cation by which he has desired that his own conduct should 
 be governed. 
 
 POINTS TO BE KEPT IN VIEW IN A RELIGIOUS 
 EDUCATION. 
 
 I. Spiritual prosperity. 
 
 1. Pray for them. 
 
 2. Ever instil Christian principles. 
 
 3. Act in the spirit of the gospel towards them. 
 
 4. Watch over their intercourse with others, 
 
 5. Teach them to govern their tempers. 
 
 6. See that they diligently attend the means of grace. 
 
 II. Health of Body. 
 
 1 . Their minds not to be too much pressed. 
 
 2. Exercise to be regularly taken. 
 
 3. Watch against their ignorance and carelessness. 
 
 4. Temperance in diet to be observed. 
 
 5. Things injurious to health to be avoided. 
 
 6. Early in bed and early rising. 
 
 Y. Remember the incessant activity and subtlety of 
 Satan. 
 
 III. Mental Cultivation. 
 
 1. To be well grounded in all they learn. 
 
 2. -Minds to be strengthened by solid works. 
 
 3. Habits of reflection to be formed and called forth. 
 
 4. See that they understand their lessons. 
 
 5. Things useful to be especially attended to. 
 
 6. Habits of self-denial to be formed. 
 
ON CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. XVll 
 
 IV. Manners. 
 
 1. Kindness to run through everything, their morals, 
 school-play, walks, behavior to each other, and all around, 
 parents and servants. 
 
 2. To show its true foundation in Christian principle, 
 Romans xii. 10 ; 1 Peter iii. 8. 
 
 3. It is a victory over our natural selfishness. 
 
 4. It promotes the happiness of all around us. 
 
 V. Accomplishments. 
 
 1. Are of a secondary value. 
 
 2. A means of relaxation. 
 
 3. They commend religion to others. 
 
 4. Be sure that they are innocent. 
 
 5. Guard against those which lead them into the world. 
 
 VI. The Saviour all in all. 
 
 1. In every point show them Christ. 
 He, the root of spiritual prosperity ; 
 He, the physician of body and soul ; 
 He, the giver of mental power ; 
 
 He, altogether lovely in all his ways ; 
 He, full of gifts and full of grace. 
 
 2. Let everything turn the mind to him. In every 
 walk, in every lesson, in every event, in every sin, in 
 every mercy, speak of Christ. 
 
 3. Let him be the sun and the glory of eveiy day. 
 
 VII. Means. 
 
 1. "My grace is suflBcient for thee." 
 
 2. " He will give his holy Spirit to them that ask.'* 
 
 3. " I am thy God, I will strengthen thee, yea I will 
 uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness." 
 
TO MRS. RICHMOND, 
 
 Allow me to present to you the following little 
 work, in which I have endeavored to draw out 
 your late husband's plan of education, and to illus- 
 trate its success in the conversion of three of his 
 children. The materials placed in my hands ap- 
 peared to me too valuable to be buried in oblivion ; 
 and I am persuaded I shall receive the thanks of 
 every Christian parent for having brought before 
 them such an examplar to direct and encourage 
 them in their own labors. My excellent friend 
 lias long since been known as a minister of the 
 gospel and the advocate of our religious societies, 
 and " his praise is in all the churches." But in 
 the following pages it will be seen that his private 
 character, as the father of a family, shone with 
 no less bright a lustre, and is worthy to be held in 
 still higher estimation. 
 
 My heart's desire and prayer to God for you 
 and for every member of your family is, that you 
 may continue to follow Christ after the example 
 
IV TO MRS. RICHMOND. 
 
 of your instructor and guide, and under the influ- 
 ence of the same spirit, may bear an honorable 
 testimony to the nature and worth of vital rchgion. 
 I am, be assured, with the highest esteem and 
 affection, 
 
 Your faithful servant, 
 
 The Author. 
 
TO THE READER. 
 
 If any apology be deemed needful in present- 
 ing to the public another volume connected with 
 Mr. Richmond's name and memory, we might re- 
 fer to the lively interest witli which the produc- 
 tions of his pen have ever been received, and the 
 frequent demand made for more of his correspond- 
 ence. It must be remembered that the letters 
 now published were not intended to be read by 
 any one beyond the circle of his own family, and 
 they are not introduced on the present occasion as 
 specimens of extraordinary talent and composition, 
 but with a view to exhibit the unwearied efforts 
 of a Christian father in the education of his chil- 
 dren, and to encourage those who are engaged in 
 the same pursuit to hope to the end, while they 
 diligently persevere in the use of means, since they 
 may here contemplate another proof that God is 
 faithful to his promise — " Train up a child in the 
 way he should go, and when he is old he will not 
 depart from it." 
 
VI TO THE READER. 
 
 It has not been the design of the Editor to cen- 
 sure others, who may adopt a mode of education 
 somewhat different, or to claim for his friend or 
 himself an exclusive right to dictate to the Church 
 of God. Mr. R. had, in some respects, his pecu- 
 liarities, and men must judge for themselves as to 
 their imitation of them ; but there can be no mis- 
 take in earnestly recommending to their regard 
 his zeal and love — his devout and heavenly spirit 
 — his consistent and firm preference of eternal to 
 temporal advantages, and the evident blessing of 
 God, which crowned with success his method of 
 instructing his family. May the same divine bless- 
 ing accompany the present humble attempt to pro- 
 mote the glory of God and the spiritual good of 
 men. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Remarks on Education — Public Morals and Private Educa- 
 tion 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Mr. Richmond's plan of Education — Amusements for leisure 
 hours — the Kaleidoscope — the Solar System. . . .23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The usual Amusements of young people excluded — Keeping 
 of Birth-days — Letters on these occasions — Choice of Com- 
 panions — Home Correspondence — Discipline — Letters to his 
 Children 42 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Residence at the University — Letter to a young man matricu- 
 lating at Cambridge — Subjects omitted in Mr. Richmond's 
 plan. 95 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Life of Nugent Richmond — Sponsorship — Letter to Sponsors — 
 Remarks on the Ministry — Nugent sent to Sea — Occurrences 
 in India — Letters to his Parents — His expected return — His 
 Death. ... 124 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Life of Wilberforce Richmond — His childhood — Letter to his 
 Father — Mr. Richmond's Letters to Wilberforce in his child- 
 hood — Wilberforce's early character and letters — Lines on 
 Wilberforce's Birth-day — Mr. Richmond's letters to him. . 162 
 
vui contents: 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Latter days of Wilberforce — His illness — Visit to Scotland — 
 Return — Conversations with his father 204 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Closing hours of his life — Conversations with his family — His 
 Death — Mr. Richmond's Letter to his Parishioners. . . 253 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Mr, Richmond's third Daughter— His Letters to her— Marriage 
 Admonitions— Conversations with the Author— Her Sickness 
 and Death 289 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Concluding Remarks 320 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Fragments relating to Lydia G , of Newcastle-on-Tyne. . 326 
 
FAMILY PORTRAITURE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Quoiiiam refert a quibus et quo quisque modo sit institutus. 
 
 Q,UINTILLIAN.* 
 
 The importance of education has ever been ac- 
 knowledged by all civilized communities. To the 
 ditTusion of knowledge, and its influence on the 
 economy of life may be traced the superiority of 
 one age and country over another ; and it is the 
 neglect or the cultivation of their minds, which 
 forms the only true distinction between man and 
 his fellow. 
 
 The education of their youth was esteemed by 
 some nations as so intimately connected with the 
 public weal, that they placed the children of the 
 subject under the superintendence of teachers chosen 
 by the state ; a practice which, no doubt, inspired 
 a political patriotism, but at the expense of many 
 better feelings, and with the enfeebling, if not dis- 
 solving those parental ties, on which the conduct 
 and happiness of life must greatly depend. 
 
 There have been many writers on this subject, 
 
 * " It is of great moment by whom and in what manner eveiv 
 one is educated." 
 
 1* 
 
10 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 and widely differing from each other in their respect- 
 ive theories. The opinions of some are so extrava- 
 gant and opposed to all sound practical wisdom, as 
 scarcely to deserve an aUusion. Who could have 
 supposed that a grave and intelligent author would 
 recommend a parent to leave his child without in- 
 struction until nearly the age of manhood, under 
 the pretence of not embarrassing freedom of 
 thought ? If such a strange conceit could be acted 
 upon, it would soon reduce an enlightened people 
 to the condition of barbarians. But the experiment 
 is impracticable, for " the process in the formation 
 of character, though rude and ruinous by neglect, 
 will go on." From the cradle to the grave, a suc- 
 cession of hourly events and influences of a thou- 
 sand kinds will gradually and ultimately establish 
 habits, and give a capacity for happiness or misery 
 on an entrance into the eternal world according to 
 their result. A bias of some kind or other will be 
 received, and the only alternative for our choice is, 
 w^hether that predisposition which arises from the 
 inculcation of good principles, and a reliance on 
 authority for a time, is not preferable to the impulse 
 of corrupt inclination and the influence of more cor- 
 rupt communication. 
 
 There have been other writers who seem dis- 
 posed to consider man as the mere creature of 
 circumstances, and education as forming " the only 
 ground of difference between the judge on the 
 bench and the prisoner at the bar." These attach 
 too great an importance to human effort and the 
 force of habit, when they compare a rational agent 
 
REMARKS ON EDUCATION. 11 
 
 to the plant of the field, and expect that he will of 
 necessity take his form and shape from the hand of 
 the cultivator. If they do not deny in plain terms 
 the need of divine interposition, they make no ap- 
 peal to it, and seem to regard it as superfluous to 
 the purposes and ends of education. But whatever 
 value we set on moral culture, its failure, in many 
 instances, — a failure so great that corrupt nature 
 seems as it were exasperated to evil by the very 
 means employed for its correction, — affbrds a 
 mournful proof, that '' it is a jfoor centre of a mcui's 
 actions, himself.'''' Another equally affecting fact 
 leads us to look higher than mere human agency ; 
 for have not many useful and virtuous characters 
 sometimes appeared like lights in the midst of dark- 
 ness emerging from influences the least calculated 
 to warrant such an exception ? It never must be 
 concealed or forgotten by a teacher, that " God 
 worketh both to will and to do of his good pleas 
 ure." He gives to the mind its first impulse, and 
 directs every step in its progress wherever the cul- 
 ture of man is successful. Independence is no at- 
 tribute of a creature ; and to challenge success as 
 the necessary result of our own efforts is a pre- 
 sumption no less opposed to reason than denounced 
 by revelation. " Not by might nor by power, but 
 by my spirit, saith the Lord." 
 
 There is a third error which has its advocates. 
 While some attribute too much to human culture, 
 others expect too little from it. There is a pride 
 which inspires an undue confidence in the use of 
 means, and there is an indolent reliance on divine 
 
12 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 aid which vainly looks for an end without them, and 
 disposes men to neglect or wholly disregard them. 
 This perversion of a truth generates a reckless feel- 
 ing, and has done great mischief in religious fami- 
 lies. It is perhaps a chief cause of the melancholy 
 spectacle not unfrequently exhibited in the ruin of 
 many children whose parents have professed to re- 
 spect, and value Christian principles. They ^ seem 
 to overlook both the precept and the promise of the 
 word of God.' — " Train up a child in the way in 
 which he should go, and when he is old he will not 
 depart from it." 
 
 But dismissing whatever is chimerical or mis- 
 taken in these theories, (for it is not to my purpose 
 to carry the discussion to a greater length,) I would 
 observe, that to train and prepare the soul for its 
 eternal destiny is the proper business and end of 
 education. It must be admitted that there are sub- 
 ordinate ends which may be desired, and means of 
 the same character which may be employed for 
 their attainment : that a competent provision ; ac- 
 quirements which will render us respectable in 
 life ; all that is connected with the security and 
 promotion of present happiness, are lawful objects 
 of pursuit, and it is follly to neglect or despise them. 
 In many cases it would be a dereliction of duty ; 
 for we must not consider ourselves as insulated 
 beings, and " go out of the world," but continue in 
 it as " the salt of the earth," to dispense a purifying 
 influence. I am not the advocate of superstition 
 or eccentricity ; but I contend that the chief end 
 of education is to train for eternity. There may 
 
PUBLIC MORALS. 13 
 
 be an awfnl consistency in the sentiments of those 
 whose hopes and pros]iects are bounded by time, 
 when they sa}^, We and our children will eat and 
 drink, for to-morrow we die. But, independently 
 of revelation, and assuming only the belief of a 
 future state, — a state to be determined by our con- 
 duct in the present world, it follows as a necessary 
 consequence that whatever we teach or do, ought 
 to have a bearing on another condition of being, 
 and be made subservient to its interests. Here I 
 stand on the vantage ground, and fear not to make 
 ray appeal to every thinking man ; not only whether 
 the welfare of a future life can be reasonably set 
 aside, and children taught to despise and disregard 
 it, but whether it be consistent with the expectation 
 of another world to give it less than the chief and 
 foremost place in our thoughts and actions. It 
 cannot be regarded as subordinate or secondary 
 without exciting a just suspicion that we do not 
 admit its existence. Such an appeal may be made 
 with still greater force to an avowed disciple of the 
 Christian faith. The whole bearing of revelation 
 goes to this point, '' Seek first the kingdom of 
 God." Let it be observed that the question is not 
 here one of mere opinion. Few would venture 
 to deny the principle, for this would be to deny 
 the authority of the principle ; but we must look 
 to opinion as realized in practice, and insist on the 
 propriety and necessity of interweaving religious 
 principle as a golden thread in the whole texture of 
 education ; deriving from it the motives, the means, 
 and the end ; and so steadily keeping in view the 
 
14 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 final result, as to make a cheerful sacrifice of every- 
 thing which would be likely to impair or interfere 
 with it. 
 
 I may be censured for rashly libelling the com- 
 munity in which we live, yet it must be apparent 
 to an unprejudiced mind, that for the most part we 
 are a nation of Christians by profession, and of 
 heathens in opinion and practice. Christianity 
 may have improved the moral sense, or at least 
 driven into the shade the grosser abominations of 
 ancient times, but it is a palpable fact, that the 
 Bible is not our standard ; nor a provision for the 
 world to come, our object, and end. Are not our 
 motives derived from reputation, interest, or gratifi- 
 cation ; and were not these the fulcrum employed 
 by the gentile world to move the youthful mind 
 to exertion ? What are the virtues which are 
 prized and commended ? We hear of a becoming- 
 pride — a conscious dignity — a noble ambition — a 
 deserved scorn and contempt — a just revenge — dis- 
 positions and impulses of corrupt nature which are 
 totally condemned by the word of God. In what 
 light are many acknowledged vices regarded by us ? 
 The Christian and the heathen moralist equally re- 
 probate murder, impurity, and fraud ; and legisla- 
 tors of every age have enacted laws to deter from 
 their commission ; but do we not in a multitude of 
 instances endeavor to hide the enormity of these 
 crimes, when we cannot alter their character, and 
 talk of a proper defence of honor, an affair of gal- 
 lantry, and a fortunate stroke of policy ? 
 
 " All these things the Gentiles did," and we, 
 
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 15 
 
 though professing to know God, by our imitation of 
 their actions, dishonor him. Even when a stricter 
 rule of morals is a)3proved, the leading feature of 
 heathen ages is still retained, and a boy is taught 
 by the example of his teacher, and by the conduct 
 of ail around him, to regard religion as an affair of 
 secondary importance, — at best to be viewed with 
 awe at a distance — not to be brought into contact 
 with all his aims and ends ; as a something he 
 must submit to of necessity, rather than choose as 
 a source of his purest enjoyment. The peculiarities 
 of the Gospel, in principle, disposition, and conduct, 
 are so far from being applauded or enforced, that 
 the very reference to them on any occasion, would 
 expose him to suspicion, scorn, and reproach. 
 
 This is no idle declamation, but a simple state- 
 ment of facts ; and it is worth while to inquire the 
 cause of so lamentable a departure from the char- 
 acter of true Christianity. 
 
 We will therefore examine the course of educa- 
 tion pursued in this country, as it is conducted in 
 public schools or by private tuition, and which, if 
 carried on, is usually completed at one of the uni- 
 versities. 
 
 A public school presents some advantages. These 
 consist chiefly, perhaps, in the superior ability and 
 attainments of the masters, who are generally se- 
 lected from the ablest scholars of the age. The 
 pleas often urged, of the value of connections, and 
 the knowledge of the world, (which to boys can 
 neither be necessary nor useful,) seems t-o carry 
 little weight ; and if allowed to possess any, is 
 
16 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 more tlian counterbalanced by the evils arising out 
 of numbers, bad companions, and tlic neglect of the 
 holy Scriptures ; which lay a foundation for habits 
 and conduct in life beyond measure injurious. 
 Many private schools abound with the same evils, 
 and offer fewer advantages than the larger estab- 
 lishments. In both cases, it has been justly ob- 
 served, instruction may be secured in the school- 
 room, but education is carried on in the play-ground, 
 or in the dormitory. There is seldom at such sea- 
 sons any superintendence. Neither the eye nor 
 the ear of the master is with his pupils, and they 
 are, for the most part, left without control or re- 
 straint, to follow the devices of their own minds. 
 A few elder boys prescribe the standard of opinion 
 and conduct, and whatever may be erroneous or 
 corrupt in the loaders, finds a ready acquiescence 
 from those below them. Painful are the details of 
 a Tyro, who either boasts or laments the fruits of 
 these evil communications. 
 
 The neglect of religion in public schools has often 
 been asserted, and the charge repelled with indig- 
 nation. Certain it is, however, that the greater 
 number of pupils leave these establishments and 
 enter into life, with an ignorance and indifference 
 towards religion, or with an avowed contempt for 
 it. They have no idea of viewing it as the end of 
 their being, — the rule of their conduct, and to be 
 carried by them as a governing principle into every 
 event and transaction of life. It has evidently not 
 been a prominent feature in their past studies. A 
 form of prayer, a chapter in the Greek Testament 
 
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATFON. 17 
 
 on the Sunday, or an exercise for the memory from 
 some elementary author, (and such I believe to be 
 the amount of religious instruction,) are poor sub- 
 stitutes for a constant reference to the commands 
 and promises, the motives and models of the Bible, 
 — for a dilis^ent cultivation of ri2:ht habits and 
 opinions. Can it be said with any truth, th^t the 
 word of God is read daily, or pains taken in its 
 application to the heart and conscience ? Although 
 a decent respect may be inculcated for revelation, 
 is a boy instructed by his teacher to regard the 
 world as a bauble, and the service of God as his 
 glory ? Are sinful tempers watched over and re- 
 proved ? Are heavenly dispositions cultivated and 
 encouraged, with a close and intimate inspection 
 of morals and the employment of leisure hours ? 
 They can best answer these questions who have 
 been the victims of vices contracted in our public 
 schools ; or who, when awakened to real principle 
 and piety in after years, have endured throughout 
 life a kind of martyrdom in conflicting with the 
 sinful habits of their youthful career. 
 
 The chief studies in our public seminaries are 
 the classics. Science, till of late years, formed no 
 part of them, nor has it even now more than a 
 small share of the seven or eight years devoted to 
 acquire an imperfect acquaintance with the authors 
 of Greece and Rome. 
 
 The objections made to the use of heathen 
 authors in Christian education are not always 
 valid. Classical knowledge forms a good founda- 
 tion for theological attainment, while it is considered 
 
18 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 as the handmaid of religion, and is made subser- 
 vient to its purposes. An illiterate ministry is 
 never a safe one, nor can a sound and accurate in- 
 terpretation of the word of truth be expected with- 
 out a knowledo^e of the oris^inal lansruaofes, and 
 without that disposition to sober and patient inves- 
 tigation, which the habits and discipline of the 
 mind under proper culture, seldom fail to inspire. 
 
 These objections apply rather to the manner of 
 teaching the classics, — to their being viewed as an 
 end^ not a means, and to the measure of time and 
 attention bestowed on them, to the exclusion of 
 more important subjects which would counteract 
 the evils incident to them. 
 
 While discussing the merits of school education, 
 I cannot refrain from adverting to a modern system, 
 which discards the aid of religion in the hours of 
 instruction. I view this novel experiment with 
 extreme alarm. The reduction of expense, and a 
 plausible pretence to liberality of sentiment, has 
 prevailed on men of real piety to give their sanction 
 to it, and they have been seduced, in their simplic- 
 ity, to approve a plan more worthy of the enemies 
 of religion than of its friends. The classical tutor 
 must take the Bible in his hand with every book of 
 instruction, or the mind of his pupil will necessarily 
 be exposed to the daily influence of many things 
 which are false in principle and vicious in practice. 
 He will insensibly be led to prefer knowledge to its 
 right use and application, and to estimate talent 
 above piety. He will despise as unworthy of the 
 manly age, the principles confined to the nursery 
 
PUBLIC A^'D PRIVATE EDUCATION. 19 
 
 and the family, and which are never brought before 
 him by those whom he is taught to regard with 
 superior veneration and respect. We may boast 
 of the march of intellect, and treat with supercilious 
 contempt the example and usages of former ages, 
 but the diffusion of unsanctified knovjledge will 
 prove a great evil to the community. The feeblest 
 recognition of a Diety, and the admission only of 
 the forms of religion — nay, even superstition itself 
 is preferable to the entire exclusion of all reference 
 to a divine power. 
 
 " No institution," said my excellent friend, " can 
 or ought to stand, in which Christ is not the founda- 
 tion ; and I wholly disapprove of all schemes which 
 deliberately shut God out of their direction." 
 
 To schools, and particularly to the manner in 
 which they are conducted, Mr. Richmond felt the 
 strongest repugnance. The sentiments'* which I 
 have laid before the reader are in fact the sub- 
 stance of conversations with him on these subjects. 
 He never spoke without emotion when he recol- 
 lected the vices which his eldest son had contracted 
 by a public education, and the sad influence of bad 
 connections formed under those circumstances, and 
 which, counteracting the good effects of early 
 instruction at home, caused the ruin, as he used to 
 say, " of his poor wanderer." He resolved in 
 consequence to adopt the plan of ho7ne education^ 
 with the assistance of a private tutor. 
 
 Private teaching has certainly some disadvantages, 
 but they are few in comparison of the benefits se- 
 cured. I grant that there is a danger of irregu- 
 
20 FAMIT-Y PO'RTRAITURK. 
 
 larity in the hours of stady^ arising from visitors 
 and invitations — the severity of needful discipline 
 may be softened into a mischievous relaxation by 
 affection ill-directed and unduly interfering with the 
 teacher — and the stimulus of competition, the desire 
 of distinction and the love of praise, (very question- 
 able motives, however,) are lost. But these and 
 every other defect of a private education may be 
 remedied, while advantages of tlie utmost import- 
 ance in the formation of character are secured. 
 Regular habits may be established — interruptions 
 of every kind prevented by a firm resistance of 
 them — motives in unison with the Scriptures will 
 be found more than adequate to every occasion — the 
 devotional exercises of the closet may be watched — 
 hourly opportunities will be afforded for breaking 
 off* the shoots of evil as they spring up, an example 
 of principle embodied in action may be presented 
 to youthful observation, and affections of the best 
 kind be cultivated between the members of the 
 family — much useful general knowledge may be 
 imparted, and a fair share of the learning of public 
 schools be acquired. Numbers can only be re- 
 strained by force or fear, or excited by pride and 
 interest. Choice, affection, principle,' can seldom 
 be "employed. The discipline of a great school 
 nmst be that of a man of war, and it is conducted 
 in either case under much the same necessity. Two 
 or three boys may be watched every hour — evil 
 checked as it arises — every occurrence improved — 
 religion infused into every pursuit and instruction, 
 without any necessity for recurring to stimuli which 
 
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION. 21 
 
 befit only the lowest condition of mortal existence, 
 and are never found, in their application, to pro- 
 duce any other effect than to depress or exasperate 
 generous natures. 
 
 There is an error which universally obtains in 
 every plan of education, public or private, and 
 which is perhaps a principle cause of the distaste 
 of our young persons for grave and solid studies. 
 They are never taught to thhik. Materials in 
 abundance are set before them, but they know 
 nothing of the use and end designed by working 
 them ; they are ignorant of the rationale of gram- 
 mar, or the application of science. The memory 
 is burdened as a drudge, whilst the understanding 
 remains torpid and unexercised ; and thus the 
 interest which real knowledge inspires is lost in 
 the mere acquisition of words. A boy can give a 
 rule but not a reason. Pestalozzi has attempted, 
 with some success, to improve former methods of 
 imparting knowledge, but even his system falls 
 short of rational instrnction, where the understand- 
 ing and the heart should keep pace with the progress 
 of the memory. The practice of enforcing by au- 
 thority, instead of leading the mind to investigate, 
 explain, and digest in the exercise of its own ener- 
 gies, disposes a youth to affirm, rather than prove, 
 and, resting contented with a crude and superficial 
 acquaintance with all subjects, to shrink from the 
 labor of acquiring solid and accurate information. 
 It would be a very salutary practice to withhold 
 from young persons the use and enjoyment of every- 
 thing, however simple, whether an effect of art or 
 
22 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 nature, till they had prepared themselves to explain 
 its history, origin, place, and means of production. 
 Thus no moment would run to waste, and table 
 talk, which now consists of little more than barren 
 details, would become a vehicle of much interesting 
 and useful communication. 
 
 If science ought not to ])rccecle language, they 
 should walk together as friends from the com- 
 mencement, and be associated throughout the pro- 
 gress of education. 
 
 But leaving the reader to form his own opinion 
 on the comparative merits of ])ublic and private 
 education, I shall lay before him, in the next chap- 
 ter, the method resorted to by Mr. Richmond in his 
 family arrangements. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 And this our life, exempt from public haunt, 
 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 Sei-mons In stones, and good in everything. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 One great reason why so few people in the world are truly religious, and why 
 among the truly religious so many are not happy in their religion, is this, thai 
 aarly religious habits are too commonly associated, not with cheerfulnes-s. but 
 with constraint and gloom. — Jebb. 
 
 Mr. Richmond's first object was to make hohie 
 the happiest place .to his children ; to render thfm 
 independent of foreign alliances in their pursijits 
 and friendships ; and so to interest them in don^Bs- 
 tic enjoyments, as to preclude the feeling, too coni- 
 mon in young people, of restlessness and longing to 
 leave their own fire-sides, and wander abroad in 
 search of pleasure and enjoyment. In this attempt 
 to satisfy his family and engage their compliance 
 with his wishes, he so completely succeeded, that 
 every member of it left home with regret, even on 
 an occasional visit, and returned to Turvey with 
 fond anticipation, — as to the place of their treasures. 
 
 To his dauo^hter F he writes — 
 
 " We are going on quietly at home. 
 
 Little K , by a sudden determination, is gone 
 
 into Norfolk. My love and respect for your dear, 
 most dear mother, has prevailed to gain my con- 
 sent ; otherwise I much prefer a mother's and elder 
 
24 FAMILY PORTRATTURK. 
 
 sister's roof, for female education, to any school. 
 Bii: I leave this affair in God's hands, and hope he 
 will overrule it for the best. I have long thought 
 that though a good school is better than a bad 
 home, a good liome is the best of schools. Chil- 
 dren are for the most part educated in temper and 
 habits of all kinds, not by governesses, but by com- 
 paiions, and here all is contingency. But so much 
 of my own happiness consists in making your dear 
 mamma happy, that I waive my objection to a 
 Temporary alienation from the parental roof, and 
 pray God it may not injure K 's spiritual wel- 
 fare. Some may think I am too fond of seeing my 
 chi.dren around me ; if it be a weakness, I must 
 pleid guilty to it : from their infancy I have looked 
 forvvard, as far as providential circumstances would 
 peimit, to find comfort, support, and com'panion- 
 shi') in my children. My middle, and if spared my 
 old age, may much require it ; and if iny life be 
 short, can any wonder that I should like to see and 
 know much of them while I remain in this world. 
 It has ever been my heart's desire and prayer to 
 give them a useful, happy, exemplary home ; w^ere 
 I to fail here, life would indeed becon^e a blank to 
 me. I would strive " to roll the trouljlous trial on 
 God,'" but I should deeply mourn in secret. Sons 
 must in due season go forth into a wanton and 
 wicked world to seek their bread ; but daughters, 
 while unmarried, are better calculated to become 
 comforters and companions to their parents, as tliey 
 
 go down to the vale of years 
 
 " Your affectionate father. L. R." 
 
AMUSEMENTS FOR LEISURE HOURS. 25 
 
 A happy home greatly depends on the recreations 
 and amusements which are provided for young 
 people. It is no small difficulty to give a useful 
 direction to their play- hours : little more has been 
 contemplated in the gambols of youth than the 
 health and activity of their bodies, and the refresh- 
 ment of their spirits ; it is well when these objects 
 can be attained without the indulgence of sinful 
 tempers ; but youthful sports have often proved the 
 nursery of pride, am.bition, and contention. In 
 public schools these evils have been encouraged, or 
 at least deemed unavoidable. The seed of revenge 
 in manhood has been planted in boyish violence, 
 and the unheeded acts of oppression by the elder 
 boys towards their juniors, have trained them to 
 tyranny in riper years. Private education affords 
 gTcater facilities for checking these evils, but the 
 want of the stimulus supplied by numbers is apt 
 to render the pastime uninteresting and home dis- 
 tasteful. 
 
 Mr. Pv. was alive to these inconveniences, and 
 endeavored by a succession and variety of recre- 
 ations to employ the leisure hours to advantage. 
 He had recourse to vv^iat was beautiful in nature 
 or ingenious in art or science ; and whefi abroad 
 he collected materials to gratify curiosity. He 
 fitted up his museum, his auctarium, and his li- 
 brary, with specimens of mineralogy, instruments 
 for experimental philosophy, and interesting curi- 
 osities from every part of the world : he had his 
 magic lantern to exhibit phantasmagoria, and teach 
 natural history ; to display picturesque beauty, and 
 
 2 
 
26 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 scenes and objects far-famed in different countries : 
 his various microscopes for examining the minutire 
 of plants and animals ; his telescope for tracing 
 planetary revolutions and appearances : his air- 
 pump and other machines for illustrating and ex- 
 plaining the principles of pneumatics and elec- 
 tricity ; autliors of every country who treated on 
 the improvements connected with modern science ; 
 whatever, in short, could store the mind with ideas, 
 or interest and improve the heart. When he 
 travelled he kept up a correspondence with his 
 family, and narrated to them the persons, places, 
 and adventures of his progress. On his return he 
 enlivened many a leisure hour by larger details of 
 all that he had observed to amuse and iip.prove. 
 
 It was a sight truly gratifying to witness the af- 
 fectionate parent in the professor's chair, with a 
 mind richly stored and a countenance beaming with 
 kindness, fixing the attention of his youthful au- 
 ditors on subjects abstruse in their character, but 
 rendered interesting and intelligible to the happy 
 group which surrounded him. 
 
 Music was another source of domestic amuse- 
 ment in which Mr. R. excelled, being both a good 
 composer and no mean performer. Many of his 
 children played on some instrument, and occasion- 
 ally joined their father in a " concert of sweet 
 sounds." He wished to exclude what was frivolous 
 or trifling in this noble art, and delighted in the 
 grave, full-toned harmony, as best calculated to in- 
 spire corresponding emotions. 
 
 He encouraged the use of the pencil, and was 
 
AMUSEMENTS FOR LEISURE HOURS. 27 
 
 very anxious that his daughters should cultivate 
 their taste for drawing. 
 
 '* As I have journeyed along," he writes to one 
 of his children, " I have often wished I had the 
 pencil of a ready draughtsman, that I might bring 
 home a bundle of sketches of landscapes, to revive 
 recollections, and render natural scenery permanent 
 to the imagination. When I find that this cannot 
 be, I next wish that one or more of my dear chil- 
 dren might acquire a talent of this kind, and be a 
 sort of right hand to fulfil my wishes in that way. 
 Perhaps some day you will be that right hand to 
 me. Loving landscape scenery as I do, my grand 
 object is to see God in it ; to trace him in every 
 part of his works ; to acknowledge his goodness in 
 them, and to collect arguments from them to endear 
 the character of Christ, ' by whom,' the scripture 
 says, ' all things were made, and without whom was 
 not anything made that was made.' To this end I 
 wish drawing to be cultivated. I mourn over pride 
 and vanity, and if accomplishments are only ac- 
 quired to gratify these unholy affections, I should 
 wish them banished. Nay, mere innocent pleasure 
 is not a sufficient motive ; the glory of God must 
 be the end and aim of every attainment, or else it 
 is a waste of time, and an abuse of talent. Pen- 
 cils, paint, India ink, and India rubber, may be de- 
 voted to the honor of Him who bestows the power 
 of combining their respective properties, so as to 
 produce the similitudes of his works. I am no less 
 anxious about the cultivation of musical talents ; 
 there is, however, more danger of music being 
 
28 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 abused than drawing : the inundation of frivolity, 
 and the sometimes unsuspected associations of a 
 carnal and worldly nature, which mingle with 
 musical compositions of a modern and fashionable 
 cast, often distress and hurt me. The fascinations 
 of the ball-room, the corruptions of the theatre and 
 opera-house, too often creep into the quiet piano- 
 forte corner of young people. Even instrumental 
 music, with its appendages of waltzes, dances, and 
 love-sick airs, has often a tendency to familiarize 
 the young mind with subjects injurious to its wel- 
 fare. The sober dignity of genuine instrumental 
 music, is nearly lost in the substitution of modern 
 trick and blandishment : but if instrumental music 
 be thus abused, how much more so vocal : here the 
 art and science of music opuns its richest stores of 
 opportunity for glorifying God, and edifying man ; 
 here all the charms, and all the contrivances of this 
 sublime faculty, present innumerable means of 
 spiritualizing the heart, gratifying the ear, exalting 
 the understanding, and improving the affections ; 
 but here, alas ! the world, the flesh, and the devil 
 have grasped the powers of the musical art in too 
 many instances, and sacrificed them all to Dagon 
 and Baal, to vice and folly, to levity and wanton- 
 ness, to fascination and delusion. Love songs, 
 drinking songs, vice-provoking songs, and many 
 other sorts of songs, resound from house to house 
 in public and private, and prove to demonstration 
 the idols which men, and even women serve, and 
 consequently ' whose they are.' What a profana- 
 tion of a holy art I what a degradation of a noble 
 
AMUSEMENTS FOR LEISURE HOURS. 29 
 
 science ! I am persuaded that music is designed 
 to prepare for heaven, to educate for the choral en- 
 joyment of Paradise, to form the mind to virtue 
 and devotion, and to charm away evil, and sanctify 
 the heart to God. A Christian musician is one 
 who has a harp in his affections, which he daily 
 tunes to the notes of the angelic host, and with 
 w^liich he makes miclody in his heart to the Lord. 
 Does he strike the chord with his hands ? it is to 
 ' bid lute and harp to awake to the glory of God.' 
 The hand, the tongue, and the ear form a kind of 
 triple chord, not to be broken. Bring music, my 
 
 beloved F , to this test, and your vocal hours 
 
 will not be spent in vain. The instructions of 
 your childhood will supply you througli life with a 
 fountain of pleasures, drawn from the true source 
 of legitimate recreation. Sing the songs of Zion, 
 and amidst the vibrations of the air may true 
 prayer and praise ascend to heaven, and enter into 
 the ears of the Lord God of your salvation ; and 
 then will the harm.onious combination be complete. 
 Pray for grace to guide you in all your duties, that 
 you may comfort, assist, and strengthen your in- 
 valuable mother in all her cares and labors, by 
 your dutiful, diligent, and affectionate regard to 
 her precepts, example, and wishes. JMay your 
 brothers in particular learn from you, and you from 
 Christ, what Christian meekness, activity, and so- 
 briety mean. Watch over them with a sister's 
 heart and a sister's prayers, and they will be heard 
 and answered. Go to school again and again. 
 Whither ? To what school, papa ? To the school 
 
30 FAMILY PORTRAITURE.' 
 
 of Christ, where the Great Instructor waits to 
 teach and bless you. Go thither, my child, and 
 carry your sins and your cares, and your weak- 
 nesses and your errors, and your affections and 
 your hopes, and your fears and your resolutions, 
 and your friends, and your brothers, and your sis- 
 ters, and your mother, and 
 
 " Your own true loving father, 
 
 '' Legii Richmond." 
 
 It was a maxim with Mr. Richmond, that the 
 mind needed not idleness or frivolity to restore its 
 activities, or fit it for graver studies ; but might 
 always find a sufficient relaxation in variety : and 
 his success in associating some useful pursuit with 
 the recreations of his young people, proves the cor- 
 rectness of his judgment in this respect. 
 
 The principal characteristic, however, of his 
 mode of education, was the piety infused into every 
 employment or pleasure. Whether in the field or 
 in the museum, whether he examined what was 
 beautiful to the eye, or indulged in what was har- 
 monious to the ear, — whether he made an experi- 
 ment or related an event, — everything was connected 
 in his own mind and in that of his children, with 
 Him who giveth all things richly to enjoy ; — every- 
 thing afforded him an illustration of some religious 
 truth, or was employed to inspire some devout aftec- 
 tion. The connection of religion with science was 
 a favorite topic, on which lie used to enlarge with 
 great satisfaction. His happy manner, in combining 
 instruction with amusement, appears from the two 
 
THE KALEIDESCOPE. 31 
 
 following specimens. The first of these is a medi- 
 tation on the wonders of a kaleidescope, and which 
 he presented to his daughter F — , with a view to 
 engage her attention to this simple and elegant in- 
 strument. " See, my dear F — , what this new 
 discovery, which has afforded us so much amuse- 
 ment, may do to improve our heads and hearts. 
 
 *' I took up my kaleidescope, and as I viewed with 
 delight the extraordinary succession of beautiful 
 images which it presented to my sight, I was struck, 
 
 " 1. With the singular phenomenon of perfect order 
 being invariably and constantly produced out of per- 
 fect disorder, — so that, as by magical influence, con- 
 fusion and irregularity seemed to become the pro- 
 lific parents of symmetry and beauty. 
 
 ^'2. It occurred to me, that the universality of its 
 adoption would imperceptibly lead to the cultivation 
 of the principles of taste, elegance, and beauty 
 through the whole of the present and following gen- 
 erations ; and that from the philosopher and artist 
 down to the poorest child in the community. 
 
 "3. I admired the effects produced by new and 
 varied combinations of colors as well as forms. 
 The analysis of this kind of arrangement is here at- 
 tended with unprecedented facility and advantage. 
 The artist, the philosopher, the admirer both of the 
 works of nature and of art may find a source of 
 amusement almost peculiar to the use of this in- 
 strument. 
 
 "4. I saw a vast accession to the sources of in- 
 vention in its application to the elegant arts and 
 manufactures, and the consequent growth of a more 
 
32 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 polished and highly cultivated state of habits, man- 
 ners, and refinement in both. 
 
 " 5. I mused with deJight on the powers and 
 effects of geometrical arrangement and combination, 
 so easily exhibited to the eye, and so characteristic 
 of the optical principle on which the instrument is 
 constructed. 
 
 "6. I was struck with the idea of infinite variety, 
 — more strikingly demonstrated to the eye than by 
 any former experiment. Here the sublime mingles 
 with the beautiful. 
 
 " 7. I perceived a kind of visible music. The 
 combination of form and color produced harmony, 
 their succession melody ; thus Vvdiat an organ or 
 'pianoforte is to the ear, the kaleidescope is to tlie 
 eye. I was dehghted with this analogy between tiie 
 senses, as exercised in this interestins: experiment. 
 
 "8. I thought that God was very good to afford 
 and permit so innocent and gratifying a source of 
 recreation to all ranks of my fellow-countrymen, 
 arising partly from the exhibition of so much love- 
 liness to that sense of sight which he has formed, 
 and partly from the exercise of the mental faculties 
 of reason and taste in meditating upon the beautiful 
 vision. 
 
 " I laid my kaleidescope down, and thought of the 
 adorable attributes of him from whom all blessings, 
 earthly and heavenly, flow. 
 
 " I took up my kaleidescope again, and was led in 
 the contemplation of its use and beauties to think, 
 
 " 1. Here I seem to see, on the one hand, the ruin 
 and disorder of human nature, and on the other, the 
 
THE KALEIDESCOPE. 33 
 
 marvellous inilucnce of grace in producing out of 
 these materials, order, beauty, and restoration. 
 
 '' 2. My instrument I compared to a telescope 
 glass, which faith and hope put into my hand ; — I 
 saw through one end of the tube, the world and our 
 life in it, a scene of confusion and tribulation, strange 
 revolutions and mysterious complexities. Througli 
 the other, I beheld promised delights, heavenly real- 
 ities, beauty for ashes, and the wilderness blooming 
 like a rose. I took the hint, and saw reasons for 
 resignation, contentment, and patient waiting for 
 the glory that shall be revealed. 
 
 '' 3. I observed, as I gently turned my instrument 
 round, how quickly the pleasure of sense vanished. 
 The phantom Vv^hich delighted me but a moment 
 before was gone — forever gone — irrecoverably lost ! 
 Let me not then, said I, set my heart on that which 
 so quickly taketh wing and fleeth away. Such is 
 the world and its delights. 
 
 ^' 4. But again as I looked, new beauties con- 
 stantly succeeded those which had passed away. 
 Now I thought, how does the Lord multiply his 
 mercies in constant variety and succession. In the 
 succession of beautiful configurations in my glass, 
 is an emblem of the endless goodness of my God, 
 whose tender mercies are over all his works. 
 
 ^'5. In this chaos of confusion, thus made to pro- 
 duce beauty and order, I seem to see a representa- 
 tion of the primitive work of the Great Creator, 
 who, when the earth was without form and void, 
 sent forth his Spirit, and therewith created a uni- 
 verse in all its original perfection. 
 2* 
 
34 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 " 6. When I loolv at my little fragments of glass 
 and stones, and observe how, from such apparently 
 despicable materials, such beauty and symmetry 
 arise, I learn not to despise the day of small things, 
 and to count nothing unworthy of my notice. I 
 learn how God has chosen the foolish things of this 
 world to confound the wise, and base things of this 
 world, and things which are despised hath God 
 chosen ; yea, things which are not, to bring to 
 nought things that are, that no flesh should glory in 
 his presence. 
 
 " I concluded by reflecting how the works of crea- 
 tion, the principles of natural philosophy, the dis- 
 coveries of science, and the ingenuities of art, illus- 
 trate and demonstrate the attributes of the God of 
 redemption. My kaleidescope shows me, in the 
 harmony of its colors, the union of his excellencies ; 
 in the symmetry of its forms, his wisdom ; in the 
 invariable efficacy of its principles, his faithfulness ; 
 in the endless diversity of its figures, his infinity ; 
 in the simplicity of its essential character, his unity ; 
 in its faculty of producing novelty, his power ; in 
 its ability to delight, his goodness ; and in its afford- 
 ing me this opportunity of so seeing him in it, his 
 love. 
 
 " I laid down my kaleidescope, that I might praise 
 and pray to the Author of my mercies." 
 
 The next article was composed by Mr. R. to fix 
 the solar system in the memory, for which purpose 
 he turned it into verse, and as it may be a useful 
 
THE SOLAR SVSTEM. 35 
 
 technica memoria to other children, it is here pre- 
 sented to them. 
 
 In this instance, also, it may be observed, how 
 steadily he kept in view his ulterior design of rais- 
 ing the mind from the visible heavens to the knowl- 
 edge and love of Him whom the heaven of heavens 
 cannot contain, but whose eternal power and god- 
 head, whose majesty, wisdom, and goodness, shine 
 forth in the things that are made. 
 
 He used frequently to repeat, " The undevout 
 astronomer is mad." He would observe, " Astro- 
 nomy fills the mind with the most elevated concep- 
 tions of the magnificence of the Deity, and sinks us 
 down, and humbles us to the dust, with a sense of 
 our own utter insignificance, sensations mingled 
 with others of a sweet and tender character in the 
 survey of his benevolence. 
 
 " Creation was Adam's library ; God bid him 
 read the interesting volumes of his works, which 
 were designed to make known the Divine character. 
 To gratify curiosity, only, in the study of the crea- 
 tures, is to lose sight of their end in relation to 
 man. I would have my dear children see God in 
 everything. It is not merely a transitory emotion I 
 wish to raise in their minds, but a habit of referring, 
 in all they see, to their Maker with delight and rev- 
 erence. I will never consent to shut God out of 
 his own universe, or divorce science and religion, 
 which he has joined together to dwell with each 
 other in unity and love."^" 
 
 * In these remarks I perfectly concur. What indeed is religion 
 but a knowledge of God. with an enjoyment of him in the affections 
 
36 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 THE SOLAR- SYSTEM. 
 
 As we looked at the skies, my dear children, last night, 
 And their beauties and wonders attracted our sight ; 
 Of explaining their nature you set me the task, 
 So ril try to afford the instruction you ask. 
 
 In the midst of our system the Sun takes his place, 
 
 And brilliantly shines through the regions of space. 
 
 He illumines the planets, and by his attraction 
 
 Preserves all their motioris in regular action. 
 
 He turns round his axis in twenty-five days. 
 
 While his light ne'er decreases, his heat ne'er decays: 
 
 His diameter, viewed with the nicest attention, 
 
 Proves near nine hundred thousand miles in dimension 
 
 Around this vast orb revolutions are seen, 
 
 Of the planets eleven, with their moons, just eighteen. 
 
 First Mercury moves mid the bright solar rays, 
 Completing his orbit in eighty-eight days ; 
 The breadth of his disc, at three thousand is given. 
 The distance of milhons of miles, thirty-seven. 
 
 of the heart. The Greeks use a term (cvSefSna) to describe it, 
 which signifies a becoming reverence. The Latins employ another 
 word (religio, a re et Ugoi). still more descriptive of its character, 
 which means a reuniting of a part to its whole. Man has been 
 torn, as it were, from God by his apostacy, — a creature separated 
 from the Creator. The business of religion, and of all religious 
 education, is to bring man back to God. in his thoughts, aflcctions, 
 aims, and pursuits ; so that spiritually, as well as naturally, he may 
 live and move, and have his being in God. Science, when em- 
 ployed as the handmaid of religion, will be found a most useful 
 auxiliary ; and literature of every kind, especially such as is con- 
 nected with the works or ways of the Diety, if pursued in the spirit 
 of piety, has a tendency to improve and sanctify the heart. With 
 this view, Mr. Richmond encouraged his children to study diligently, 
 that they might love and serve God fervently. 
 
THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 37 
 
 Next Venus advances, with radiant smiles, 
 
 From the Sun distant sixty-nine milUons of miles ; 
 
 She revolves round her centre in months about eight, 
 
 And compared with our earth she in size is as great : 
 
 In beauty resplendent she shines from afar, 
 
 And gladdens the eye as a morn or eve star, 
 
 THE KARTII. 
 
 Amidst this grand range of celestial pavilions, 
 Next comes, at a distance of ninety-five millions, 
 The globe of the Earth, with its faithful attendant, 
 Both alike on the Sun's gravitation dependent. 
 Earth revolves, as enlightened by Sol's mighty blaze, 
 In three hundred and sixty and five of our days; 
 Round her axis impelled by omnipotent power, 
 She turns and returns by the twenty-fourth hour. 
 Near eight thousand miles is the breadth of her span, 
 And thus she was form'd for the dwelling of man : 
 As the Sun rules by day, so the Moon rules by night, 
 Each affording in turn their magnificent light. 
 
 THE MOO>f. 
 
 The Moon's time in her path as the Earth she moves round, 
 
 Just twenty -nine days and a half will be found ; 
 
 From the Earth she is distant, although she seems near, 
 
 Twenty-four times ten thousand of miles it is clear. 
 
 By the light of the Sun her fair face is adorned. 
 
 While she sometimes is gibbons and sometimes is horn'd. 
 
 When at full she's quite round, when new she's not seen, 
 
 But whenever she shines, is of night the gay queen. 
 
 Of high hills and deep vales she has plentiful store, 
 
 And her breadth of our miles is two thousand and more. 
 
 By his glass, the astronomer clearly discerns 
 
 In a month round her axis she statedly turns. 
 
 Thus the Earth and her Moon are hnpelled by a force, 
 
 Which preserves all their motions in annual course. 
 
 Next revolving amidst this bright region of stars, 
 We behold in his orbit the rudd3'-faced Mars, 
 
38 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 He appears to move on without lunar assistance, 
 At a hundred and forty-four milUons of distance. 
 While twenty-four hours, like our own', make his day, 
 Near two years will accomplish his annual way : 
 His diameter measures four thousand and two, 
 And his radiance is marked by its roseate hue. 
 
 THR ASTEROIDS. 
 
 Four planets come next of diminutive size, 
 Too small, without aid, to be seen with our eyes : 
 But the telescope proves of what nature they are, 
 And discovers their motions as viewed from afar. 
 In order comes Vesta, then Juno, then Ceres, 
 Whose order to Pallas exceedingly near is; 
 But these Asteroids no more shall absorb. 
 The attention now due unto Jupiter's orb. 
 
 Enlightened by Sol with refulgence he smiles. 
 Though distant near five hundred millions of miles : 
 His splendor the Heavens is ever adorning 
 As the jewel of eve, as the herald of morning. 
 His diameter ninety-one thousand is found, 
 He in less than ten hours his own axis turns round : 
 His magnificent globe, as it plainly appears, 
 Revolves round the Sun in near twelve of our years : 
 Cloudy belts cross his surface in parallel lines, 
 Yet through them the planet with brilliancy shines. 
 His constant companions, to cheer the dark night, 
 Four Satellites lend him their regular light: 
 That they truly revolve, by our glasses is seen, 
 In their periods or months from two days to sixteen. 
 
 Now far beyond Jupiter on we advance 
 
 And find a whole system of worlds at a glance. 
 
 Seven Moons around Saturn transcendently shine, 
 
 Preserved in their orbit by impulse divine. 
 
 Nine hundred of millions from Sol he's removed, 
 
 So their nightly assistance is constantly proved. 
 
 When measured, the breadth of this planet is great, 
 
 In thousands of miles it is seventy-eight : 
 
THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 39 
 
 Twenty-nine and a half of our years must be run 
 
 Ere Saturn his journey performs round the Sun ; 
 
 In fourteen to twelve hours the astronomers say, 
 
 This planet's rotation completes his own day : 
 
 But that which most singular makes him appear 
 
 Is two luminous rings which encompass his sphere ; 
 
 It would seem that this splendor of radiance bound him, 
 
 As detached from his orb they revolve both around him. 
 
 Heaven does not present a more beautiful sight 
 
 Than this planet — his rings and his moon seen at night. 
 
 URANUS — HERSCHELL — GEORGIUM-SIDUS. 
 
 But as further we penetrate heavenly regions. 
 
 Where the stars are abounding in multiplied legions, 
 
 We meet with a planet of magnitude vast. 
 
 Which of those yet discovered is reckoned the last. 
 
 Call it Uranus, Herschell, or Georgium-sidus, 
 
 A sight of his disc without help is denied us. 
 
 But when brought by the aid of the telescope near 
 
 His surface is manifest, beauteous, and clear. 
 
 Eighteen hundred millions removed from the Sun, 
 
 It is eighty-four years ere his orbit is run, 
 
 Thirty-four thousand miles is his breadth 'tis maintained. 
 
 Of his motions diurnal no knowledge is gained. 
 
 Six bright beaming moons shed their rays o'er his night, 
 
 Like himself, from the Sun, all deriving their light. 
 
 THE COMETS. 
 
 But still we pursue astronomical song, 
 
 As not planets alone to our system belong. 
 
 Many hundreds of Comets, in orbits most strange, 
 
 By solar attraction obediently range, 
 
 With their fringes of hair, their long fiery tails, 
 
 W^henever they're seen admiration prevails : 
 
 But their lengthened elliptical path in the sky 
 
 The powers of Astronomy seem to defy. 
 
 So short is their stay, they escape observation 
 
 On which we can ground a correct calculation. 
 
 They've so come and so gone, so appear'd and so vanished, 
 
 That successful prediction they've hitherto banished. 
 
40 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 To the system named Solar, I call your attention, 
 
 Of the stars which are fixed I shall now waive the mention. 
 
 But while their instruction I have sought to impart, 
 
 I have wished to inspire the best thoughts in your heart. 
 
 With deep veneration, O lift up your eyes 
 
 And contemplate these works of the God of the skies : 
 
 He formed them, he governs, he guides every motion, 
 
 And by them he summons each soul to devotion. 
 
 The firmament showeth the work of his hand, 
 
 Such wisdom and power adoration command. 
 
 Each planet revolves, and each comet appears. 
 
 To exalt the great God of our days and our years. 
 
 Not a star but its lustre shall loudly proclaim 
 
 The magnificent praise of his excellent name. 
 
 Join the chorus above, and let glory be given 
 
 To him that directs both on earth and in heaven. 
 
 Many advantages were obtained by the intro- 
 duction of popular science into my friend's family 
 circle as an amusement ; a dislike of low and vul- 
 gar pursuits was inspired, an occupation found for 
 every moment, and materials procured for useful 
 conversation in their private intercourse ; full em- 
 ployment and improving pursuits are favorable to 
 morality and religion ; nor is it necessary to allow 
 children, even in their pastimes, to be more childish 
 than a childish age requires. The notion is injuri- 
 ous to them, that a waste of time is felicity, and its 
 profitable employment an ungrateful necessity. Nor 
 can eminence be expected in anything in which the 
 heart is not ens^as^ed. It should therefore be the 
 constant effort of a teacher to interest while he 
 instructs, and to bring the hour of recreation into 
 unison with that of the school room, making it sub- 
 servient to it. It was my friend's anxious desire 
 
THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 41 
 
 and sedulous endeavor to sret the heart on the side 
 of truth, to infuse an innocent prepossession in its 
 favor, and make duty enjoyment. It was often 
 said by the members of his family, " We love relig- 
 ion, because we see papa so lovely and happy under 
 its influence !" 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A mans nature runs either to herlis or weeds, therefore let him seasonably 
 water the one and destroy the other.— Bacon. 
 
 With so many resources of innocent and im- 
 proving amusement, Mr. R.'s young people felt no 
 regret at the interdict which their father placed on 
 all games of chance, on fishing, field sports, dancing, 
 the theatre, oratorios, and other sources of grat- 
 ification, which he thought to be inconsistent with 
 the spirit of religion, connected with much evil, and 
 a preparation for it. I have heard him say, " Even 
 where there is no positive evil, I think it important 
 to draw a strong line of demarcation between the 
 church and the world. The mixed multitude set 
 the Israelites a lusting after the flesh-pots of Egypt ; 
 and evil communications never fail to corrupt good 
 manners. There may be no sin in dancing, but it 
 is a preparation for appearing hereafter where I 
 think there is scarcely anything else. Cards are a 
 waste of time which may be much better employed ; 
 and they are too nearly allied to the gaming-table, 
 which fills me with horror. To field sports I have 
 a still more decided objection : they are defended 
 on the ground of promoting health ; but whatever 
 benefit the body may receive, it is at the expense 
 of the soul. I know not on what principles a man 
 can justify the taking away life for his amusement : 
 
USUAL AMUSEMENTS EXCLUDED. 
 
 43 
 
 God alJows him to kill animals for food, or to de- 
 stroy them when they prove an annoyance to him : 
 but I can find no authority in the Bible for deriving- 
 enjoyment in the infliction of a cruel death ; — it is 
 right founded on might, — a mere act of tyranny, 
 and an abuse of power. The man who should whip 
 a beast to death, or cut him up alive, like an Abys- 
 sinian savage, would be deemed a monster ; yet 
 the same man may hunt to death, and halloo, and 
 exult with satisfaction, while his dogs are tearing to 
 pieces a defenceless animal, and yet be considered 
 a gentleman and a Christian. Then there are the 
 after-events of the day ; — and surely to spend five 
 or six hours in the evening commending the bark 
 of a cur, or descanting on the movements of a fox 
 to elude his pursuers, is unworthy an intelligent 
 being, even if there were no worse accompani- 
 ments." 
 
 I asked him if he thought shooting equally objec- 
 tionable. He replied : — " Shooting may not issue 
 in all the results of hunting ; but I should be mis- 
 erable all the while my boys were scampering over 
 the fields with a gun. Sad accidents are contin- 
 ually occurring from letting young people carry 
 fire-arms : but my great objection to all these sports 
 is the same ; I cannot think it right to seek gratifi- 
 cation in inflicting suffering and death. I know 
 that God has given us the creatures for our suste- 
 nance, and it is lawful to use them to this end ; 
 but with my views and principles, I find it hard to 
 conceive a right-minded man feeling pleasure while 
 he inflicts pain. He would rather be disposed to 
 
44 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 say with an old writer, ' I can never eat my dinner 
 when I remember that I am living by the death of 
 a creature which my sin has destroyed.' As for 
 exercise, we might surely find other pursuits for this 
 purpose. There appears to me the same delusion 
 in the argument which has sometimes been em- 
 ployed to defend shooting, as in that which is urged 
 by card players, — we must have a stake, however 
 small, or we shall lose all interest in the game. 
 Surely we might walk as far and as long as we 
 pleased for exercise, without a gun. Pascal ex- 
 plains the whole matter, when he says, ' A man is 
 not running after the game, but trying to run away 
 from himself The race-ground presents such a 
 scene of folly and knavery that it does not deserve 
 a serious argument. The stage abounds with cvery- 
 thiuGj wdiich is offensive to the mind of a Christian. 
 What think you of a celebrated tragedian, who 
 forbade her daughter to connect herself with the 
 theatre, — surely this speaks volumes. Did it never 
 strike you that an actor (unoitQin^g) has given a name 
 to the worst of vices. 
 
 " Fishing is generally deemed a harmless amuse- 
 ment, but I cannot allow it to be a fit recreation for 
 a Christian. What are we to think of impaling a 
 worm, and being highly delighted while the poor 
 creature sufiers exquisite torture for our sport. If 
 we use an artificial bait, yet is time, the precious 
 hours of life, so valueless that we can afford to 
 throw away half or a whole day in this trifhng ?" 
 
 " What is your opinion of oratorios ?" " My 
 fondness," he re{)lied, " for music may be supposed 
 
USUAL AMUSEMENTS EXCLUDED. 45 
 
 to make me a partial judge in this case. I see no 
 objection to a concert when the music is properly 
 selected, yet I am jealous of this sort of amusement, 
 and should think it necessary to be very cautious 
 in encouraging a taste for public exhibition of any 
 kind. We never attend oratorios in a church. I 
 consider it a desecration of the house of God to use 
 it for any purpose but that of religion ; it shocks me 
 to hear clappings and noisy expressions of pleasure 
 when a passage of scripture and the name of God 
 is made a vehicle for mere amusement. It is ab- 
 surd to talk of devotional feelings on such occasions. 
 As to all these things, 1 think that God has given 
 us immortal souls to prepare for heaven. People 
 may cry. What great harm in this or in that ? They 
 may have a plausible pretext for doing what I 
 condemn ; for there is nothing, however absurd or 
 wicked, which will want an advocate or an argu- 
 ment to support it. I lay down this general rule for 
 all occupations. Whatever has a tendency to fit my 
 children for heaven I approve, but I must keep 
 aloof from everything which is likely to be a snare 
 or a temptation to them, and indispose their minds 
 to a serious and steady pursuit of their great ob- 
 ject. 
 
 " Did you ever hear of a bishop on the race- 
 ground or in a theatre ? W^ould he not disgrace 
 Jiimself even in the eyes of the world by being 
 present at such places ? Why so ? Because he 
 ivould be out of character. The universal suffrage 
 denounces these amusements as inconsistent with 
 a heavenly mind, and the sacred office of a spiritual 
 
46 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 guide. Surely this is the strongest censure on the 
 amusements themselves ; it is in fact saying, the 
 more heavenly the man the more unsuitable are 
 such things to his character. 
 
 " I have often thought that a Christian by profes- 
 sion, who allowed himself in the indulgence of such 
 things as have furnished the subject of our conver- 
 sation, must be at a loss how to describe the pomps 
 and the vanities of this wicked world, which he has 
 renounced at his baptism." 
 
 These remarks may excite a smile, as childish 
 scrupulosities, or a sneer, as mere fanaticism ; but 
 hard names are bad substitutes for solid arg-uments. 
 It will not be easy to satisfy a sober reflecting 
 mind, that Mr. Richmond's judgment was weak or 
 superstitious. 
 
 Before we leave the subject of amusement, I 
 shall advert to another kind of recreation, which 
 Mr. R. provided for his young people ; — the cel- 
 ebration of birth-days. On his own birth-day he 
 attended divine service, when he preached a sermon 
 to his congregation, and endeavored to improve 
 the lapse of time by acts of prayer and praise. The 
 summons was cheerfully obeyed, and the parish bells 
 rung merrily. Great numbers attended church to 
 worship God and congratulate their pastor on 
 the occasion. In the course of the day he always 
 wrote to his mother, while she was alive, and affec- 
 tionately reminded her and himself of their en- 
 deared connection. On the day following, he in- 
 vited a party of his parishioners to dine at the 
 
KEEPING OF BIRTH-DAYS. 47 
 
 rectory. This birth-day entertainment was looked 
 forward to by them with great interest, and was 
 made an occasion of courteous hosjoitality. The 
 company was of a mixed character, and was re- 
 ceived by Mr. R. with a kindness and attention to 
 their innocent recreation, which never failed to 
 gratify his guests. The evening was spent in music, 
 and his family formed a little band of performers 
 in full concert. The birth-days of his children were 
 kept with no less reverence to religion, though in a 
 more private manner. He commended them to 
 God for his blessing and favor. He wrote each 
 of them a letter of congratulation, usually accom- 
 panied by a present of some useful kind. The day 
 was spent in innocent festivity, and the evening 
 was employed in the museum, where he gave a 
 lecture on experimental philosophy. These seasons 
 were anticipated by the children with much de- 
 light, and their recurrence contributed, in a great 
 degree, to promote the harmony of the family, by 
 a reciprocity of affectionate interest amongst its 
 members. 
 
 I shall here transcribe a letter or two, as speci- 
 mens of Mr. Richmond's birth-day correspondence. 
 
 TO IVIY K- 
 
 " Let not my loved little K suppose that her 
 
 father forgets her. Yaxham may seem a long dis- 
 tance from Turvey ; Glasgow is much greater, but 
 
 * The birth-day was kept as usual though the child was absent ; 
 but whether absent or present a letter of congratulation was writ- 
 ten on the occasion. 
 
48 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 in neither place can my heart forget my child. I 
 remember you a little babe in arms. I loved you 
 then. I remember you lying in your little cot, and 
 I swung you there, and loved you the while. 
 
 •' I recollect your first attempts to walk, and 
 your many consequent little downfalls. I raised 
 you up from your stumblings and your tumblings ; 
 I dried your tears, and loved you still more. I 
 have not forgotten your endeavors to talk, nor your 
 droll little prattlings ; nor your first calling me 
 Papa, and dearly I loved you for it : and although 
 these things have long since passed away, and time 
 
 has added to your years, my love for my K is 
 
 not diminished. I often see you in imagination, 
 and draw fanciful pictures of your occupations in 
 your new dwelling ; but what is my love compared 
 with that of your heavenly Father. What is the 
 strongest earthly aflection, wdien contrasted with 
 that which said, ' Suffer little children to come 
 unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the 
 kingdom of heaven.' Has my child's heart an 
 earnestness, a real unfeigned earnestness, to share 
 in the love of such a Father, and to come when 
 so mercifully called to such a Saviour ? By nature 
 ' foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child ;' 
 nevertheless by grace a young child's heart may 
 become the temple of the Holy Ghost, and the 
 residence of God himself. Think of little Jane, 
 the Young Cottager. May you resemble her in 
 wdiatever she resembled Christ. She was a dear 
 little girl, and I wish there were thousands more 
 like her. Many have been made sensible of their 
 
BIRTH-DAY LETTERS. 49 
 
 sinful state while reading that story, and, through 
 the blessing of God, have been brought to love the 
 same Redeemer, and lived and died rejoicing in, 
 their Saviour. I hope, my child, you pray not 
 only with your lips, but with your heart. While 
 you are actively and dutifully employed in acquir- 
 ing useful knowledge, ^ be fervent in spirit, serving 
 the Lord.' In a little time you will be in your 
 teens, and the very sound of that word should 
 awaken you not to the usual folly and vanity of 
 this period of life, but to the responsibility of grow- 
 ing years and increasing privileges ; to the cultiva- 
 tion of holy learning and Christian habits ; to the 
 love of Jesus and communion with his Spirit. It 
 is my prayer, let it be yoiifs. And now farewell, 
 
 my dear K . May you realize every fond hope, 
 
 temporal, spiritual, and eternal, of 
 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 '^ L. R." 
 
 The following letter was written the year after, 
 and on a similar occasion : 
 
 "to my K — , ON HER BIRTH-DaY. 
 
 " Accept a birth-day blessing from your affection- 
 ate father, my dearest K : — a father who loves 
 
 you with all his heart and soul. This day thirteen 
 years brought you into a world of sins, sorrows, 
 mercies, hopes, and fears : surely it is a day much 
 to be remembered ; not so much by feastings and 
 twelfth cakes, as by prayers and supplications to 
 the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that 
 
 3 
 
50 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 he would grant you grace to put away the follies 
 of childhood, and to enter upon what is commonly 
 called your ' teens' with a clean heart and a right 
 spirit. May my dear child be a vessel of mercy, 
 filled with all the blessings of the spirit of God, and 
 fitted for a happy eternity. May the love of Jesus 
 warm your heart with every affection which can 
 adorn the Christian name and character. May 
 your early attainments at this period of diligent 
 childhood prepare you to be the comfort and prop 
 of your parents in their advancing years, if life be 
 spared to them. Be conscientious in all you do. 
 Idleness and inattention to instruction always prove 
 that something is very wrong in the principle. Dil- 
 igence in the improvement of your mind is a trib- 
 ute of obedience both to God and your parents. I 
 rejoice to hear from your kind governess that you 
 improve in this respect. I trust, my dear child, we 
 shall never receive any intimation of your failure 
 in so important a matter. If you love those at 
 home, (and I am persuaded you do love them ten- 
 derly,) ever strive to make them happy and easy on 
 your account. I need not tell you that every one 
 round our fire-side unites with me in the congratu- 
 lations of this day. There is but one lieart amongst 
 
 us. M and H mention your birth-day in 
 
 their letters. Our Christian circle is reduced Vvdien 
 three daughters are absent, but love, memory, and 
 imagination often bring them all together, and half 
 fill the vacant chairs which they used to occupy. 
 Your brother Nugent has been mercifully preserved 
 from an awful shipwreck in India : the vessel was 
 
BIRTH-DAY LETTERS. 51 
 
 totally lost, but all the lives saved, and he has got 
 a station in another ship. — " They that go down to 
 the sea in ships, — that do business in great waters, 
 — these see the works of the Lord, and his won- 
 ders in the deep." (Psalm cvii. 23 — 31.) And now 
 
 my K , with a repetition of every wish, prayer, 
 
 and blessing, believe me 
 
 "Your affectionate father, 
 
 ''L. R." 
 
 To C^ • (when a very little girl). 
 
 " Perhaps my dear little C thought she was 
 
 too young to receive a letter ; but you see I have 
 not forgotten you, nor L — = — either, for whom you 
 may tear off the other half of this sheet, and if he 
 cannot read it himself, some one will read it to 
 him. I wish very much to know how you are be- 
 having since I saw you. What character will your 
 pen and your needle give of you when I ask them ? 
 and what will your book say ? Your play-things, 
 perhaps, will whisper that you have been very fond 
 of them ; well, a little fond of them you may be, 
 but you must not think only of them, my little 
 nursery queen. There are better things than play- 
 things in the world, — there are mammas, and 
 mamma's commandments, and papas, and papa's 
 wishes, and sisters, and sister's instructions ; and 
 there is the Bible, and the God of the Bible, and 
 Jesus Christ and his salvation. My little girl must 
 think of these things, and be an example to her 
 young brothers, in order, obedience, and good man- 
 ners, &c. 
 
52 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 " You are now at that age when Jesus ' in- 
 creased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with 
 God and man.' Meditate on this. I am glad to 
 think you are acquiring knowledge ; but ever keep 
 in mind, that all other knowledge is valuable or 
 not, just so far as it is united to spiritual knowl- 
 edge. The word of God and its blessings form the 
 highest study of man. May my children grow in 
 such knowledge. Farewell, my child, try in every- 
 thing to please 
 
 " Your dear Papa. 
 
 " P. S. I send a box of changeable ladies to amuse 
 you, but I do not wish you to become one of the 
 changeable ladies : — yet my heart prays that you 
 may prove a changed soul." 
 
 "To C . 
 
 " I cannot let a parcel go to Y without tell- 
 ing my dear C- how much her father loves her. 
 
 This is a day of grateful recollections, and hopeful 
 anticipations. God bless my child. May she grow 
 in grace with increasing years : may she be diligent 
 in her studies, docile in disposition, devotionally fer- 
 vent in spirit, and unwearied in well-doing ! 
 
 " My anxieties have been great since I saw you. 
 My heart has so clung to my dear boy that every 
 tender feeling and affection has been exercised in 
 the separation from my beloved Wilberforce, but 
 the loss has not diminished but increased my love 
 to the endeared childi'cn whom God still spares to 
 me. I cannot say one thousandth part of what I 
 
BIRTII-DAY LETTERS. 53 
 
 would on this subject, but my heart prays that you 
 may all grow in the knowledge of Him with whom 
 his soul now lives in blessedness. I hope much 
 good has arisen to your brothers and sisters at home 
 from the sanctified effect of this heavy trial. May 
 
 my C— feel it likewise, and so experience the 
 
 power of real religion in her heart, that it may appear 
 in her life and conversation. I am very anxious on 
 this subject. A great work of gi'acious awakening 
 has taken place in the village, in connection with 
 Wilberforce's happy end. Many careless souls are 
 surprisingly changed. This is a mercy, — an un- 
 speakable mercy to n:ie as their minister. Oh ! I 
 want all my children to share abundantly in these 
 dews of heavenly grace. I earnestly covet for them 
 these best gifts. Others will have told you by this 
 parcel how much they love you. This letter can 
 but very feebly say how dear you are in the love of 
 a. Saviour. 
 
 '' From your affectionate father, 
 
 '^L. R." 
 
 " My much loved boy, 
 
 " You expressed some disappointment at dinner, 
 because you had not received your dear mamma's 
 promised letter on your birth-day. What has been 
 the cause of the failure I know not, but I will try 
 to compensate for the disappointment by giving you 
 a few lines. The return of a birth-day, when rightly 
 viewed, is a subject for very serious meditation : I 
 wish it may prove so to you. We have seen, in the 
 death of your dear brother, how little health and 
 
54 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 strength are to be trusted. Childhood, and youth, 
 and time, are swiftly passing onward, and our jour- 
 ney through this vale of tears, whether longer or 
 shorter, will soon bo over. Can you too early learn 
 the value and importance of time ? Will you not 
 hear the counsel of a father, and meditate on those 
 things which belong to your everlasting peace ? 
 You have an immortal soul, to be lost or saved for- 
 ever. You have an understandins", to distinsfuish 
 between good and evil. You are therefore a respon- 
 sible being, who must render an account of the deeds 
 done in the body, whether they be good or whether 
 they be evil. Childhood is the period when the 
 character and habits of the future man are formed. 
 Trifle not therefore with your childish days. Set a 
 firm and valuable example to your younger brother : 
 he mil more or less imitate your ways and disposi- 
 tions, be they better or worse. Remember ! the eye 
 of God is upon you in every place. Be where you 
 will, do what you will, you may always say with 
 Hacrarin the wilderness — 'Thou God scest me.' I 
 have of late known but little, too little, of your state 
 of mind and your views of things, temporal and 
 spiritual. I have had occasional uneasiness on this 
 subject. You ought ever to be putting forth the 
 energies of your mind in every proper and possible 
 way. It is time that your attention should be 
 drawn to your future station in life, whatever prov- 
 idence may design it to be. Every day and every 
 hour should bear witness to some progress and im- 
 provement in useful learning, and above all, in that 
 knowledge which makoth wise unto salvation. You 
 
BIRTH-DAY LETTERS. 55 
 
 have on all subjects much to learn, and it will not 
 be acquired without much labor, and firm deter- 
 mination of mind and talent to the acquirement. 
 What may be the inclination of your own mind as 
 to business, profession, or occupation, I know not : 
 but I wish 3~ou most seriously to take this s.ubject 
 into deliberate consideration, and let me in due 
 time know the result, that I may give you counsel 
 and advice. In the mean time, a thirst for useful 
 knowledge, and a laborious attention to its attain- 
 ment, will best evidence your fitness for that state 
 of life into which it may please God to call you. 
 But you can do nothing well without faith and 
 prayer, — without much anxious reading of the Holy 
 Scriptures. This reminds me of your dear brother, 
 "Wilberforce. He left upon record, amongst you 
 all. Ids testimony to the value and necessity of 
 reading the v/ord of God; and it is my heart's 
 prayer and desire that all my loved children may 
 follow his example and his dying exhortations. The 
 .season of the year is fast advancing which brings 
 all the affections and solemnities of his latter end 
 to view. Every day of the approaching fortnight 
 brings to remembrance the various events of his 
 last days. They are all indelibly fastened on my 
 heart's memory ; they live, glow, and burn there 
 with a vividness of impression, of which none can 
 be aware, and form a daily part of my very self. 
 But I refer to them now for my dear Legh's sake. 
 I have lost my two eldest boys, and am deeply so- 
 licitous that those who remain to me should be 
 devoted to God ; and, if spared, become the props 
 
56 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 and solace of my advancing years. It is indeed 
 time, my Legh, that you should feel the importaiiCG 
 of such considerations. You were named Scrlo 
 after one of the most holy and excellent men v/itb 
 whom I was ever acquainted. Mere Christian 
 names can confer no grace ; but I may be per- 
 mitted to wish, and hope, and pray, that you may^ 
 by divine grace, resemble him, and follow him as 
 he followed Christ. ' The Christian Remem- 
 brancer,' ' The Horoe Solitaria?,' ' The Christian 
 Parent,' and many other admirable books bear 
 testimony to his piety and talents : ' lie being 
 dead yet speaketh.' And now, my child, may 
 every blessing attend you, for this world and the 
 next, for time and for eternity. May the return of 
 this birth-day remind you of many an important 
 duty and principle. Look into the real state of 
 your heart, and never be afraid or ashamed to 
 make me acquainted with it. ' Tiie end of all 
 things is at hand, be ye therefore sober and watch 
 unto prayer.' The heart that now loves and watch- 
 es over you on earth, may ere long, and must, in 
 time, become cold in the grave : but seek him who 
 never dieth, and his love which never decayeth, and 
 all shall be well with you here and hereafter. So 
 counsels and prays 
 
 '' Your affectionate Father, 
 
 '' Legii Richmond." 
 
 I have mentioned Mr. R.'s correspondence with 
 his mother on his own birth-day. After her decease 
 he wi'ote on this occasion the foUowia-x letter to his 
 
BIRTH-DAY LETTERS. 57 
 
 eldest daughter, who was united to an excellent 
 and valuable minister in the established church of 
 Scotland. 
 
 " My very dear daughter, 
 
 " Through many a returning year I wrote to my 
 dear and venerated mother on my birth-day. She 
 is gone to her rest, and I can only communicate 
 with her in grateful recollection and hopeful antici- 
 pation. To whom can I now address myself with 
 more propriety and love, on such an occasion, 
 than to my absent, distant, but much-loved child. — 
 My child, so mercifully restored to health after so 
 severe an ilhiess and so much danger, my thoughts 
 and prayers have been unceasing respecting you. 
 I have endeavored patiently to wait upon the Lonl, 
 and he hath heard my prayer. I have viewed this 
 trying dispensation as sent of God for some great 
 and good purpose, to your owti and to all our souls ; 
 and I trust we shall find it so. You will have to 
 learn to glorify God in the fires,* and magnify the 
 God of your salvation . to see the precarious tenure 
 of human life, and to devote your restored powers 
 of mind and body to him from whom you have 
 
 received both. O my dear M , what a God he 
 
 is, and what a redemption he has wrought for sin- 
 ners ! See in your own recent trial an emblem of 
 Christ's love ; — yourself a brand plucked from the 
 burning, — saved, yet so as by fire, — raised from 
 weakness to strength, — tempest- tost and affficted, 
 
 * Mrs. M. had been suffering from an accident by fire, 
 3* 
 
58 PAAIILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 yet preserved, — cast down, but not destroyed. It 
 is the heart's desire and prayer to God of your 
 father, on his birth-day, that all these things may 
 work together for your good, temporal and spiritual. 
 It is a day which I always contemplate with much 
 tender affection, and my thoughts are such as I 
 cannot utter. Life, death, and eternity spread a 
 vision before me, and I meditate with solemnity 
 and deep humiliation. I have lived now more than 
 half a century. On the past I look with much 
 repentance for my sins, and much gratitude for my 
 mercies. Of the future I know nothing, except that 
 my times are in God's hands, and that is enough. 
 But my responsibilities make me often tremble. 
 They rise like mountains before me ; but I lift up 
 my eyes to the hi] Is from whence cometh my help, 
 and the mountains of difficulty become plains, and 
 the rough places smooth. Amongst my mercies I 
 feel peculiarly thankful for the union of my dear 
 child with such a man and such a minister as Mr. 
 
 M . This doubly endears Scotland to my heart. 
 
 I have formed many valuable friendships, and re- 
 ceived many kind favors from its inhabitants. I 
 have delighted in its scenery and tasted many ex- 
 cellent fruits of its piety : but to have a daughter 
 placed in the midst of Scotia's hills and plains 
 renders the land peculiarly interesting to me. 
 
 " May every day add to your strength and com- 
 fort. May you and I, not only as parent and child, 
 but as fellow-pilgrims on the road to Zion, walk 
 lovingly, congenially, and safely to the end of our 
 
CHOICE OF COMFA.MONS. 59 
 
 journey. I hope, if God spare me, to see you in 
 the spring, but whether here or there, I am ever 
 •' Your affectionate father, 
 
 From the amusement of leisure hours, and the 
 returns of the birth-day memorials, I pass on to 
 notice my friend's care and extreme anxiety to 
 keep his young people from dang-erous associates. 
 To choose suitable companions is not less difficult 
 to a Christian parent than to provide useful recre- 
 ations for them. The peculiar talents of Mr. Rich- 
 mond enabled him to supply abundant materials for 
 the employment of leisure hours ; and his strong 
 affection for his children rendered that a pleasure, 
 which to many would have been an irksome duty. 
 He made himself not only a profitable but a suit- 
 able and interesting companion to them. They 
 felt no discontent at the strict exclusion of other 
 intimacies, to which there was but one exception, 
 in the son of a gentleman in his parish, who studied 
 under the same tutor, and who was ever admitted 
 w4th affectionate esteem and confidence into his 
 family party. Probably Mr. R.'s marked anxiety 
 on this point may be traced in part to the unhappy 
 career of his eldest son, on whom he had mtnessed 
 the efTect of bad influence in a corrupt associate. 
 So inflexibly did he adhere to his rule, that he 
 allowed no intercourse whatever with other fam- 
 ilies, except under his own watchful eye and dil- 
 igent superintendence. He even declined invita- 
 tions from personal relatives whom he dearly loved, 
 
60 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 and with whom he himself kept up a friendly cor- 
 respondence. It was his fixed resolve to sacrifice 
 all considerations of interest, and even courtesy, 
 although he might thereby expose himself to cen- 
 sure and misapprehension,— -rather than bring his 
 children under an influence which he feared might 
 be injurious to them. When some of them were 
 nearly grown up, he exercised the same vigilance, 
 and regarded with suspicion every circumstance 
 from which he apprehended possible injury. 
 
 He used to say — " My dear friends and relations 
 are amiable and highly respectable. I have great 
 reason to be grateful for their kind intentions and 
 good offices ; but I cannot tell what my children 
 may meet with in a style of life so different from 
 mine. One fatal hour may undo years of instruc- 
 tion, and give me endless perplexity. I have suf- 
 fered enough from sending a child from home." 
 
 His sentiments on this subject are expressed in 
 the following letter to Mrs. R. who had asked his 
 advice before she consented to allow one of his 
 daughters to accompany a lady of great respecta- 
 bility, and undoubted piety, into Devon, to spend 
 the winter there. It was not improper that Mrs. 
 R. should wish her children to see something of the 
 world, and be gradually accustomed to act for them- 
 selves. The character of the protector and com- 
 panion was a sufficient guarantee against evil con- 
 tact. Our friend was at that time in Scotland, from 
 whence he replied to the application. 
 
CHOICE OF COMPAMONS. 61 
 
 " My dear LOVE, 
 
 '' In common with my own parents I have ever 
 had strong, very strong objections to allov/ my chil- 
 dren to visit anywhere without one of their parents ; 
 and through life I have seen and lamented evils aris- 
 ing from the want of superintendence, and the ab- 
 sence of those v,iio are most concerned in guarding 
 against the mischief of association with other fami- 
 lies. As a general rule, therefore, I have ahvays 
 objected to it from conscientious motives. Yet 
 there may be exceptions, and I readily admit that 
 
 the case in question may be one of them I 
 
 wish to make homo the grand centre of attraction, 
 affection, and comforts. You know from this year's 
 experience how ready I am to give our girls the ad- 
 vanta^re of seeina; life : but I cannot think that the 
 withdrav/ing the parent's eye would increase the 
 advantages of a journey. Never is that eye and 
 ear so necessary as at such an ago. I would infi- 
 nitely rather undertake the responsibility attached 
 to possible and contingent evils which might occur 
 under the vigilant and tender superintendence of 
 parents, than those which might arise from the con- 
 nections and habits formed when that restraint is 
 withdrawn. I perfectly accord with you in wishing 
 our dear children to gain advantages from associat- 
 ing with our various Christian friends, and am act- 
 ing daily on your owm ideas. But I see more and 
 more, daily, how exceedingly desirable my own 
 presence is, and that continually. But when the 
 will of God is expressed in regard to health, &c., 
 and the path of duty is thereby clearly pointed out 
 
62 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 to me, you mu.st not suppose me to be either indif- 
 ferent or positive. At the same time I see moun- 
 tains of difficulty in deciding, out of numerous re- 
 quests, — which to accept, and which to refuse. 
 
 '' I approve your plan for Wilber force — I do not 
 oppose your wishes for Mary — I only pause — but I 
 much admire your sentiments, and taking both body 
 and mind into consideration, hope it may be the will 
 of God. 
 
 " Farewell, dear love. Cherish a comfortable 
 spirit, — do not mistrust God — let not your soul be 
 disquieted within you, — look kindly on providences 
 and hopefully on events, and ever regard me as 
 
 " Your faithful 
 
 '' Legh." 
 
 Some of Mr. R's best friends have disapproved 
 the severity of restraint which he judged it right to 
 impose on his children. They have blamed him for 
 interdicting the usual freedom of intercourse with 
 families whose conduct and principles he approved. 
 It is possible his feelings were morbidly acute on 
 occasions, and his extreme anxiety for the spiritual 
 welfare of his family often proved injurious to him- 
 self, for he sometimes passed a sleepless night in 
 expectation of an ordinary visit on the morrow. 
 Such was his vigilance, that if a friend introduced 
 his son under circumstances of common courtesy, 
 he appeared restless and uneasy if the young people 
 were left together without superintendence for a few 
 moments. Other persons might also have taken ad- 
 vantage of an extensive popularity to benefit their 
 
CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 63 
 
 families, but he never could be prevailed on to use a 
 fair opportunity of bringing them forward to notice, 
 to advance their temporal welfare. 
 
 " I cannot endure," he used to say, " even to 
 seem to make my religious influence a stepping- 
 stone to promotion for me or mine." 
 
 Whatever may be thought of my friend's judg- 
 ment, it is impossible not to respect, admire, and 
 love the holy integrity, the perfect simplicity and 
 oneness of object in the man of God, and I cannot 
 doubt that his purity of motive has been recorded 
 in heaven, and will be owned on earth after many 
 days. Whatever worldly advantages, supposed or 
 real, may have been lost to his family from the 
 steady application of religious principle, however 
 pushed to an extreme, an abundant compensation 
 shall be made by that Being whose blessing invaria- 
 bly attends a faithful adherence to the dictates of 
 conscience, and who hath promised, '' Him that 
 honoreth me, I will honor." 
 
 " My dear M— •- 
 
 " We have had a very prosperous journey thus 
 far. I am passing a few comfortable days with 
 
 at this place. But, alas I this is a town in 
 
 which, speaking of our own church, religion is little 
 known. The inhabitants of all ranks think of no- 
 thing but money, folly, vanity, and dissipation: 
 their evenings are spent in the unprofitable anxie- 
 ties of the card-table, the ensnaring amusement of 
 dancing, or the delusions and temptations of the 
 play-house, their mornings in idle gossippings and 
 
64 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 waste of time. When I see these things, I feel 
 satisfied that I have kept my dear children from 
 such scenes, and such companions. Oh ! how 
 lamentable to contemplate a great town full of in- 
 habitants, gentry, clergy, manufacturers, trades- 
 men, &c,, living almost without God in the world ; 
 error preached from the pulpits ; no care for the 
 souls of the people ; no family prayer in the houses ; 
 no zeal for religion, unless, perhaps, it be nov/ and 
 then excited to abuse and ridicule all those who 
 have any real love for God and their souls. 
 
 " May my dear child be preserved from the de- 
 filements of a vain, dangerous, and destroying 
 world. You know not, and I wish you never may 
 know, its snares and corruptions. I was greatly 
 
 affected in conversing with a family at , upon 
 
 the marriage of their daughter, under the following 
 circumstances ; the father was an exemplary clergy- 
 man, the mother a most pious woman ; they had 
 brought up a family with strict attention to religious 
 precepts and principles, and they were not without 
 hope that their daughter had some^iety. 
 . "A young man of property, but of no decided 
 religious principle, became acquainted with her. 
 Inattentive to the affectionate duties which she 
 owed to her excellent parents, their feelings, and 
 their advice, she suffered her mind to be led away 
 into an attachment towards the young man. The 
 parents were aware that his general habits and 
 views would be uncongenial to their wishes for a 
 daughter's spiritual welfare, and therefore objected. 
 However, the daughter so far obtained her wishes, 
 
CHOICE OF COMPANIONS. 65 
 
 that a very reluctant consent was given to the mar- 
 riage. The daughter, gradually led away into 
 worldly company and amusements, has given up 
 even the outward profession of religion, and now 
 lives as the world lives. Yet she is not happy; and 
 her parents are very unhappy. The daughter can- 
 not help remembering the example, the exhorta- 
 tions, the prayers, the solicitudes, and the tears of 
 her parents ; but it is only with remorse, which she 
 strives to drown in worldly company and carnal 
 amusements. They wept over the case with me, 
 v/hich presents a proof of the sad consequences of 
 young people giving way to hasty impressions, and 
 yielding to connections not founded on a regard to 
 the honor of God, gratitude to parents, and con- 
 sistency with a religious profession. How needful 
 is it that Christian parents, and Christian children, 
 should be firm and conscientious in the important 
 duty of encouraging connections for life only on 
 Christian principles ! what distress to families, and 
 what decays of hopeful character have resulted from 
 a deficiency on this point I Let me warn my dear 
 
 M against that unbecoming levity, with which 
 
 many young people treat these subjects. Evil com- 
 munications corrupt good manners, very especially 
 in this matter. The love of Christ is the only safe 
 ground of all motives, and all conduct. Where 
 this is established all is well. The life-blood of 
 Christianity then circulates through every vein of 
 the soul : and health, strength, and purity of mind 
 is the happy result. Fall down upon your knees 
 before God, iny M — — » praying that he would 
 
66 FAMILY PORTRAlTURt:. 
 
 pour that love into your heart, till it become a 
 constraining principle for the government of your 
 thoughts and actions. This is the only remedy for 
 all the diseases of the soul. 
 
 " Beware of pride and self-conceit ; of fretful tem- 
 pers and . discontent. Learn to quell impatience 
 and obstinacy. Let your first, your very first de- 
 light be in serving God by serving your parents. 
 Reckon not on youth or long life. Devote yourself 
 to active usefulness in the family, and in the parish. 
 Show forth the principles in which you have been 
 educated, by a practical exhibition of them in your 
 conduct. But who is sufficient unto these things ? 
 Christ. Without Him you can do nothing ; no, 
 not so much as think a good thought. But you can 
 do all things through Christ strengthening you. 
 He is the sufficiency of all his people. By faith in 
 him you obtain power to perform duty. By grace 
 are ye saved, and that not of j^ourselves ; not of 
 works, lest any one should boast. Could works save 
 us, we might boast, and heaven would be full of 
 boasters. But no, no, no ; the song of the saints is, 
 ' Not unto us, not unto us, but unto thy name be 
 all the glory.' 
 
 " Your affectionate Father, 
 
 " Legu Richmond." 
 
 It may be thought that a transition from seclu- 
 sion to an active life, from the habits of a retired 
 village to the busy haunts of men, is more safe when 
 gradual than when sudden, and that as young per- 
 sons must sooner or later be connected with the 
 
EARLY ASSOCIATIONS. 67 
 
 world that lies in wickedness, it were better to ac- 
 custom their nriinds by degrees to a contact which 
 will be afterwards unavoidable. A Christian parent 
 will, however, feel extremely jealous of the modern 
 practice of exposing youth to a prurient knowledge 
 of evil, of removing parental superintendence at too 
 early an age, and of allowing an unrestrained free- 
 dom of association, which appears to me, as it did 
 to Mr. R., to be attended with great danger. The 
 effects of present habits are but too obvious ; pre- 
 mature and indiscriminate intercourse, and the re- 
 laxation of former discipline, have generated a race 
 of tyros whose cliief distinction seems to be a con- 
 tempt for authority, and a rash and arrogant pre- 
 tension to superiority very unbecoming their years 
 or station. It is far better to train up a child in the 
 ways of God than in the maxims of the world, — to 
 be more intent on securing for him an entrance into 
 life eternal, than, with a hope of present advantage, 
 to put to hazard the salvation of his immortal soul. 
 I would apologize (if apology be necessary) for 
 dwelling on details which may appear too trifling 
 for notice, but the Christian parent, who can duly 
 estimate the " potency of little things," may collect 
 from them some useful hints for the regulation of 
 his own family, and with this view I insert them. 
 
 Mr. R. was an early riser, and he endeavored 
 to inspire the same activity in the minds of his 
 children. He used to read with them in his study 
 at as early an hour as six o'clock in the morning, 
 and as occasions arose, prayed with them in succes- 
 sion ; he was very attentive to their regularity, 
 
68 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 neatness, and good manners, and he endeavored to 
 make the conversation at table useful and improving. 
 Sometimes he proposed a subject for discussion, and 
 when he perceived youthful spirits rising to excess, 
 he would throw in a remark to check the exuber- 
 ance. No one aimed more constantly to restrain 
 the evils of the tongue in his family : if ever an ob- 
 servation was made to the disadvantage of another, 
 his uneasiness Avas apparent ; slander in any shape 
 was distasteful to him, and he was sure to say 
 something in allowance or excuse. Indeed Mr. R. 
 particularly excelled in conversational powers : with 
 a fund of good humor, he abounded in anecdote, 
 and having a large aeqitaintance with science of 
 every kind, he never failed to entertain ; and with 
 a soul ever intent on the glory of God and the best 
 interests of his fellow creatures, he was under no 
 temptation to sacrifice the useful to the amusing. 
 Table talk is seldom regarded with a proper sense 
 of its importance. Servants are often on the watch 
 to get something for circulation, and to retail among 
 themselves the opinions which their masters have 
 expressed in their presence : the general strain of 
 social intercourse ought therefore to be regulated 
 with a view to their improvement. Children are 
 apt to trifle, and relate all they have heard without 
 discrimination, and they need an elder to guide and 
 sfive a tone to their conversation ; this my excellent 
 friend accomplished in a manner the most felici- 
 tous ; he allowed and even encouraged perfect free- 
 dom and ease, yet every one felt that there was an 
 eye and an ear over everything. 
 
HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 69 
 
 Innumerable mischiefs arise to children from too 
 close an intimacy with domestics ; a foundation is 
 often laid, here, for opinions and habits difficult to 
 be afterwards eradicated : not only are coarse and 
 vulgar tastes imbibed, but vices of an appalling char- 
 acter are learnt in the stable or the kitchen, where 
 ready instruments are frequently found to concur 
 in deceiving a parent, or gratifying some bad pro- 
 pensity in the minds of children. It was a point of 
 importance in jMr. R.'s mind, that no Vvdcked person 
 should dwell beneath his roof ; his domestics, as far 
 as practicable, were selected from persons of good 
 principles, and they became deeply attached to the 
 family. Yet, even under these circumstances, he for- 
 bade all unnecessary intercourse : there are, doubt- 
 less, many faithful servants, worthy of our esteem 
 and confidence ; but, as a general rule, intimacies of 
 this kind are productive of evil, and no good can 
 arise from too close a connection between our chil- 
 dren and dependants. Mr. E,. provided each child 
 with a separate sleeping-room, thus securing a com- 
 fortable place of retirement and devotion. These 
 little sanctuaries were always accessible to himself; 
 he often visited them to leave a note on the table ; 
 for while at home, as Vv^ell as when abroad, he kept 
 up a correspondence with his family, which he used 
 to call his Home Mission ; and to these notes he 
 requested a reply. I have heard him explain his 
 reasons for so singular a method of instruction ; he 
 used to say, " I feel an insurmountable backward- 
 ness to close personal conversation with my chil- 
 dren ; when I begin they are silent, and it is not long 
 
70 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 before I also feel tongue-tied ; yet I cannot be easy 
 without ascertaining the effect of my instructions, 
 and hence I have been driven to use my pen, because 
 I could not open my lips." Mr. R. is not the only 
 father who has felt and yielded to this repugnance, 
 without adopting his ingenious remedy for a weak- 
 ness not uncommon, yet not the less to be lamented. 
 I am, however, disposed to estimate this home cor- 
 respondence more highly than a direct personal ap- 
 peal. Conversation (if it be not a contradiction so 
 to speak,) is apt to be all on one side ; but a com- 
 munication by letter admits of freedom and reflec- 
 tion, and if a reply be expected, obliges an interchange 
 of sentiments. It also teaches young people to 
 think and compose. 
 
 When circumstances required a longer epistle, 
 as when a fault needed correction, or a removal 
 from the family was about to take place, — when 
 preparation for a religious ordinance was required, 
 or the choice of a profession to be made, — on such 
 occasions Mr. R. was diffuse, earnest, and partic- 
 ular ; at other times his little notes contained only 
 an aflectionate suggestion of a text for meditation, 
 or a hint to improve some event. He seemed anx- 
 ious that his children should have a subject, to use 
 his own phrase, " on the stocks," and a habit of 
 always employing their minds and making the best 
 use of the hours which usually run to waste, — the 
 moments and interstices of time. He used to say, 
 " an idle moment is Satan's opportunity." 
 
 The reader may expect a specimen or two of 
 these short notes, which, as I have already ob- 
 
HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 71 
 
 served, were conveyed by himself, and left on the 
 table in his children's rooms, with a request for a 
 reply within a limited time. These replies formed 
 the subjects of his prayer on their behalf. 
 
 '^Dear H., 
 
 " Your text to-day shall be, ' the blood of Jesus 
 Christ cleanseth from all sin.' No sin is too great 
 to be pardoned ; but then the soul must seek, be- 
 lieve, and experience this mercy. There is infinite 
 value in the blood of Christ, but .the believer alone 
 enjoys the privilege. ' Believe on the Lord Jesus 
 Christ, and thou shalt be saved.' This is the way, 
 and the truth, and the life. My dear child, what 
 should, what could we lost sinners do, if it were 
 not for this atoning merit. Seek and you shall 
 find. Lose no time, — Christ waits to be gracious, 
 carry your heart and all its feelings to him in prayer, 
 and when you have told him all your wants, pray 
 for your affectionate Father, 
 
 " L. Richmond." 
 
 '' My dearest F., 
 
 " As I trust that it is your own and my wish, 
 that your mind should be seriously and affection- 
 ately directed towards the greatest of all external 
 privileges, the Lord's Supper, I wish you to answer 
 me in writing, these two questions : — What are 
 your views of the nature, design, and privilege of 
 this sacrament ? and what are the real feelings of 
 your heart at this time respecting it ? This com- 
 
72 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 munication is, and shall be, quite confidential be- 
 tween you and your afToctionate Father. 
 
 " P. S. I trust the first Saturday in October may 
 unite us at the feast of love." 
 
 " My Di^AR L., 
 
 " I leave these fev^ lines with you, in the hope 
 that you will reply to them while I am in Cam- 
 bridge. You must write, therefore, not later than 
 by Tuesday's post. I do from my heart desire to 
 know whether you do, or do not, feel an anxiety 
 about your soul'f salvation. Has the affecting 
 thought, ' I must live forever in lieaven or hell,' 
 suitably impressed your mind ? This black border 
 may remind you of your dear departed brother,— 
 but docs his memory live in your heart for good ? 
 It is time you seriously reflected on eternity, and 
 tlie value of your soul. You are a sinner, and 
 without a gracious Saviour you must perish. Do 
 you pray in Christ's name ? and that earnestly, for 
 the pardon of your sins ? May I hope that you are 
 a penitent ? Do you think of Willy's last words to 
 you, and of all that ho so earnestly recommended to 
 your serious attention ? Have you written down 
 his dying words, as I desired you ? Be not afraid 
 to open your mind to me. Let us have an unre- 
 served intercourse with each other. Put away 
 childish things, — imitate your brother's love of 
 learning, but especially his love of the Bible, and 
 his constancy in the exercises of devotion. Oh ! 
 comfort your father's heart, by truly turning to 
 God, and seekino- his salvation ; and may Cod bless 
 
HOME CORRESPONDENCE. 73 
 
 you forever and ever, which is the fervent prayer 
 of your affectionate parent, 
 
 ''L. R." 
 
 " My dear child, 
 
 '' I am pleased, much pleased with your letter, 
 the more so as it contains some expressions, which 
 inspire a hope that you are beginning to think and 
 feel seriously about your soul's salvation. While 
 I cannot but be most tenderly affected by the loss 
 of my two elder sons, endeared to me by a thou- 
 sand recollections, I become the more anxious for 
 the welfare of tliose children whom God spares to 
 me. For the last year I have gone through great 
 trials, and my health has suffered more than any 
 are aware of ; but in the midst of all my sorrows, 
 the inexpressible goodness of God has been most 
 manifest, and I trust my afflictions have been blest 
 to many. Many a rose has sprung up around the 
 cold grave of dear Willy, and they still blossom, 
 and I trust will continue to blossom, till they be 
 transplanted from the spiritual garden of Turvey, 
 to the paradise of God. But can I be otherwise 
 
 than anxious that my dear K should add a flower 
 
 to my domestic and parochial shrubbery ? Are you 
 to reach your sixteenth year, and not internally, as 
 well as externally, prove yourself a partaker of the 
 grace of God ? I trust not, — but religion is not a 
 matter of mere circumstantials, or of morals. It is 
 the spiritual application of divine truth to the heart, 
 producing that devotedness to God, which distin- 
 guishes the true from the nominal Christian. But 
 
74 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 when, how, and where does this begin ? Not until 
 you have deep, humbling, sincere, and anxious 
 thoughts about yourself, and the favor of God ; 
 not until, by a kind of holy violence, you feel con- 
 strained to flee to Christ, as the only refuge from 
 the wrath to come ; not until prayer become im- 
 portunate, and the study of God's word a delight ; 
 not until every other consideration yields to that 
 infinitely important inquiry, ' AYhat must I do to 
 be saved V Not until the light, trifling, and thought- 
 less child of man be converted, through grace, to 
 the serious, conscientious, and believing state of the 
 real child of God. Is this the case with you ? I 
 speak as a Christian father, and minister. What 
 are your views of these important subjects ? I wish 
 my child to be deeply earnest ; life flies apace, the 
 period of the tomb advances. I have four children 
 in eternity ; it is true that eight more still continue 
 with me on earth, but how long will they be here ? 
 Which of them may next be taken from me ? I 
 think on these things with deep solemnity. You 
 tremble at the thought of a school-examination, — 
 but what is this to the examination before the judg- 
 ment-seat of God. Go, then, as a sinner to Christ. 
 He sends none empty away. In him and him 
 alone, there is a rich provision for all who come to 
 him. But let this coming mean a surrender of all 
 you are, and all you have, to the Lord of grace and 
 glory. Be contented with nothing short of reality 
 in religion. 
 
 *' Whence came 1 1 — memory cannot say ; — 
 What am 1 1 — knowledge will not show ; — 
 
DISCIPLINE. 75 
 
 Bound whither?— ah! away— away- 
 Far as eternity can go ; 
 Thy love to win, thy wrath to flee, 
 Oh God ! thyself my helper be." 
 
 *' Farewell, my dear child, and believe me, 
 " Your truly loving father, 
 " L. R." 
 
 Discipline is a subject of no small moment in the 
 education of a family. Offences must needs come, 
 and the foolishness which is bound up in the heart 
 of a child, will discover itself in acts of disobedience 
 both to God and a parent. How this is to be met, 
 controlled, and subdued, has occasioned a difference 
 of opinion between good and wise men. It is agreed 
 that authority must be maintained, and that all that 
 is sinful and injurious to a child's welfare must be 
 firmly resisted. But it is not easy to avoid the ex- 
 tremes of harshness, and a weak fondness ; — to be 
 firm, yet kind; to do nothing from temper, from 
 partiality or caprice ; to preserve composure under 
 circumstances of provocation. 
 
 I cannot undertake to decide whether corporal 
 chastisement is to be inflicted or dispensed with. 
 The Scripture warns us equally against severity and 
 undue tenderness, " not to provoke wrath, nor 
 honor our children above God ;" on this point men 
 must determine according to the dictates of their 
 own consciences. So far I am satisfied, that there 
 are few occasions when the rod is indispensably ne- 
 cessary, and none which will justify its use under 
 the rufilings of temper ; nor will the effect be salu- 
 
76 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 tary, if a child does not at the time feel it to be re- 
 luctant severity, giving more pain to the offended, 
 than to the offender. Force may be the easier way 
 of settling a difference, and is probably often resorted 
 to from a wish to escape the trouble and labor of 
 more reasonable methods of eradicating evil ; but 
 it seldoms fails to excite sinful exasperations, and 
 induce a brutish character ; and the example on the 
 part of the parent, is often found unfavorable to 
 right dispositions in the other members of the 
 family towards each other. Yet I am bound to 
 admit, as the result of my own observation, that 
 even severity is a less evil in its consequences, than 
 a weak connivance at a child's misconduct. The 
 parent who " never displeases his child at any 
 time," must expect to reap the fruits of his own 
 folly in the ruin of his offspring. Excessive indul- 
 gence seldom fails to bring a rebuke along with it. 
 Mr. Richmond's method of discipline was peculiar 
 to himself, partly the effect of his own unbounded 
 tenderness and affection, but in a great measure, of 
 his deep and extraordinary piety. He could never 
 be justly accused of a weak connivance at evil, for 
 here he was resolute, firm and inflexible ; yet he 
 was never known to employ corporal chastisement. 
 Whatever may be thought of his treatment of 
 offences, it was felt by every member of his family, 
 that nothing could make him yield, or shake his 
 resolution, — nay, not for a moment. He was alive 
 to all that was wrong in principle or conduct, and 
 he never ceased to remonstrate, or to employ 
 means to reduce his child to obedience, and awaken 
 
DISCIPLINE. 77 
 
 in him a sense of error. But the chief way in 
 which he marked his displeasure, was by those 
 signs of extreme distress, which penetrated the 
 heart of the delinquent, and softened rebellion into 
 regret. From the misconduct of his child, he 
 seemed to reflect on himself, as the author of a 
 corrupt being. He humbled himself before God, 
 and in prayer sought help from above, while he 
 kept the offender at a distance, or separated him 
 from the society of his family, as one unworthy to 
 share in their privileges and afTections. No one of 
 his children could long endure this exclusion, or 
 bear with sullen indifference, a countenance which 
 silently expressed the deepest anguish. Perhaps 
 there never was a family where the reign of love 
 suffered less interruption. The reader must form 
 his own opinion of Mr. R.'s mode of regulating his 
 family. He must determine for himself, how far a 
 discipline of this kind is worthy of imitation, or is 
 suitable to his own circumstances. Where there 
 exists the same consistency and unity of purpose, 
 an equal desire to glorify God in all things, and a 
 similar diligence in the education of a family, I feel 
 confident that the divine blessing will crown with 
 success the exercise of this or any other discipline 
 of a Christian parent. 
 
 Two or three other letters to his children, touch- 
 ing both on lively and on serious topics, will appro- 
 priately close this chapter. 
 
78 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 " Sea Bank, Ayrshire. 
 *' My much loved F — — , 
 
 '' As you hear all the good news from Glasgow, 
 I need not repeat it. Now take a Scotch map and 
 you shall see where I am. Look on the sea-coast 
 of Ayrshire, and you see a place between Ayr and 
 Largs, called Salt Coasts. Close to this is a lovely 
 cottage called Sea Bank, the residence of my friend 
 
 Mr. . In the front is a magnificent view of the 
 
 sea as far as Ireland — the Frith of Clyde with its 
 beauteous islands — Arran, whose craggy, pictur- 
 esque mountains tower to the sky in the wildest, 
 highest style of romantic grandeur and beauty — 
 Bute, smaller, but very lovely — the Cumbraies — 
 the long peninsula of Can tyre, and over it the 
 high pyramidical mountains of Jura — the coast of 
 Ayrshire, farther than the eye can reach, and the 
 surprising rock called the Craig of Ailsa, rising up 
 in the midst of the ocean, far away from all land, 
 and sustaining solitary majesty, the almost unmo- 
 lested haunt of wild birds, goats and rabbits. Yes- 
 terday there was a great storm, and the sea raged 
 horribly. I saw many a vessel tossed about in all 
 directions. I went down to the shore, and stood 
 astounded amidst roarinar waves, screamins: sea- 
 fowls, and whistling winds. To-day all is calm, 
 gentle, and inviting. Yesterday I saw the subhme, 
 to-day the beautiful. I am writing at a window 
 which commands the whole view. Somehow or 
 other I am much amused with the appearance and 
 conduct of a large flock of poultry, just now parad- 
 ing about on the lawn beneath me. There are five 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 79 
 
 pea-fowls, six turkies, twenty cocks and hens, and 
 a solitary goose from Botany Bay. They walk and 
 talk with much diversified gait and air. The sober 
 gravity of their pace, occasionally interrupted by a 
 gobble, a jump, and a snap ; the proud loftiness of 
 the peacock, sometimes expressed in solemn silence, 
 and sometimes by a very unmusical squall. The 
 ruffling vibrations of the turkey-cock's feathers, 
 with now and then a brisk advance towards his 
 rival of the green ; the social grouping of the cocks 
 and hens, contrasted with the unsocial condition 
 and march of the poor unpartnered goose, who 
 grunts dismally, and sometimes turns up a doubtful 
 sort of a side look at me, as I sit at the window, as 
 much as to say, ' Who are you ?' Sometimes a 
 continued silence for a space, and then a sudden 
 and universal cackling, as if they were all at once 
 tickled or frightened, or in some way excited to 
 garrulity. All this amuses me not a little. There 
 are also two noble w^atch-dogs ; I wish they had 
 been at the house when the robbers came. I feel 
 much when at a distance from home, — even minor 
 sources of trouble harass and disturb me, when I 
 am so far from you. Let us pray for faith and con- 
 fidence in God alone. I think of going to lona, it 
 is sacred and classic ground. May every blessing 
 attend my children. 
 
 " So prays their aftectionate father, 
 
 " Legh Richmond." 
 
80 family portraiture. 
 
 " My own dear child, 
 
 " Glasgow. 
 
 '' On my return home, I found yonr letter, and 
 hasten to give you a few lines in reply. I thought 
 you long in writing, and welcomed your hand with 
 
 much delight. Indeed, my F , you and I are 
 
 not sufficiently intimate in religious intercourse and 
 correspondence ; we must become more so, and 
 may God enable us. Let us walk and talk, and sit 
 and talk more on these subjeots than we have 
 done. Time flies, events are uncertain, provi- 
 dences, health, and life, are transient and mutable, 
 I hope the ensuing winter will unite us closer than 
 ever. Winter is my domestic dependence ; your 
 heart is with me in this feeling. I much regret 
 that circuD:istances have prevented your travelling 
 with me this year, but I hope next summer wdll be 
 more propitious. When I return we will read and 
 talk over together such scenes as we mutally love, 
 and you shall hear of my interesting journey to 
 StafFa and lona. Nature, grace, history, antiquity, 
 compassion, taste, and tw^enty more subjects and 
 affections all meet there. I w41l match the festival 
 which I gave to the poor children of Icolmkill on 
 
 St. Colomba's day with the gala of Mr. . 
 
 Moreover I wrote a right noble copy of verses for 
 the children to sing. Mr. M. is a truly valuable 
 man. He grows daily in my estimation. I feel 
 
 much pleased at the prospect of my dear 's 
 
 union ; her tender heart is fixed, although her 
 affections are strongly bound to her family. En- 
 courage and elevate her spirits when you write, for 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 81 
 
 her nerves are delicate. It is a great question, and 
 God I trust is settling it for her. ^^ ^^ ^ * * 
 Mr. M. is a man of God, and makes religion and 
 conscience the ground of all he says and does. 
 
 " Read the life of Mrs. Isabella Graham of New 
 York, Mr. M.'s aunt. It will show you the sort of 
 piety of Mr. M. and his family, all of whom are 
 valuable characters. 
 
 " What a terrible storm you had ! The Lord 
 rides in the storm. ' He can create, and he de- 
 stroy.' I hope you do not forget him in the midst 
 of agi-eeable society. The care of a soul, its natu- 
 ral departures from God, its proneness to made idols 
 of the creature, and the extreme narrowness of the 
 strait gate, are subjects for our deep meditation. 
 Alas ! how many among our respectable and decent 
 friends and acquaintance are still in an unconverted 
 state, strangers to the real experience of the heart, 
 and unacquainted with the love of Christ ! Care- 
 lessness and comparative insensibility, ruin more 
 souls than deliberate acts of resolute iniquity. You 
 have need to be jealous over your own soul, and to 
 watch and pray that you enter not into temptation. 
 Real piety is a very different thing from mere de- 
 cent profession, educational propriety, and orderly 
 conduct; yet without it none can enter the kingdom 
 of God. Where a deep sense of guilt and depravity 
 does not subsist, all else is a mere name, and it is 
 much easier to admit this as a doctrine, than to feel 
 and act upon it as a truth. I want my children to 
 be living commentaries on my sermons and princi- 
 ples. I long to see them adorning the Gospel of 
 4* 
 
82 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 Christ in all things, and that from the inner man of 
 
 the heart. I have no objection to Mr. 's being 
 
 liberal and hospitable. I only lament that among 
 tlie lower classes, dancing and debauchery are 
 nearly synonymous, and therefore I must absent 
 myself from such fetes. So poor dear S. W.^ is 
 dead. To what trials are the best Christians for a 
 time given up ! Frequently during delirium, the 
 most holy have appeared the most wicked in thought 
 and action. But of her Christianity I cannot have 
 
 a doubt. * * * ] saw last week. ^ * Oh I 
 
 how time Hies, generation succeeds generation, like 
 waves on the sea ; but whither shall ive float at 
 last ? Much, much, very much goes to secure a 
 safe entrance into the eternal harbor of peace and 
 safety. All subjects sink into insignificance com- 
 pared with this. How foolish, how wicked are we 
 
 in this matter I Farewell, my beloved F , much 
 
 of my domestic comfort depends on you ; love your 
 father, for indeed he loves you. When and while 
 you can, be a prop to his feelings and spirits. Now 
 the period is arrived when I look for the harvest of 
 filial intercourse, of which I sowed the seeds with 
 such anxiety in your infancy and childhood. May 
 every blessing be with you, in time and eternity. 
 Seven times a day I pray, and say, ' God bless my 
 dear wife — God bless my dear children — God bless 
 my dear parishioners — and God bless my own im- 
 mortal soul.' 
 
 " This comes from the heart of your loving father, 
 
 ''Legh Richmond." 
 
 * One of his poor parishioners. 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 83 
 
 Extract of a letter to his daughter F . 
 
 *' I saw A M — — last week ; she is like no 
 
 one else ; it is a little Paradise to be where she is : 
 simplicity, fluency, devotedness, natural talent, and 
 gracious acquirements at eighty-four, concentrate a. 
 kind of glory playing around her head and heart. 
 Mr. has left , there are great lamenta- 
 tions, but I think I see the hand of God in it ; there 
 is danger indeed when the minister, rather than the 
 master, is the object of dehght ; but such religion 
 will soon decay and dissipate. * * # * * 
 
 One thing, my F , is most certain, that a great 
 
 deal more than commonly manifcvsts itself amongst 
 the generality of rich and genteel professors, is 
 necessary to adorn, if not constitute, real, vital, 
 saving religion. The manners, the opinions, the 
 luxuries, the indolence, the trifling, the waste of 
 time and talents, the low standard, the fastidious- 
 ness, the pride, and many more etceteras stand 
 awfully in the way of religious attainment and 
 progress; hence it is, that in so many instances, the 
 religion of the cottage so much outstrips that of the 
 mansion ; and that we derive so much more benefit 
 from intercourse with the really sincere Christians 
 amongst the poor, than amongst the too refined, 
 showy, luxurious, and dubious professors in higher 
 classes. Thank God, however, there are some, 
 though few, yet delightful, specimens amongst the 
 rich ; the gate is too strait for some of the camels. 
 * * * * Allow me, with a heart full 
 of love and esteem for my dearly loved F , to 
 
84 FAMILY PORTRAITITRE. 
 
 ask whether you have considered the subject of 
 my last letter ; do you not see, on mature exam- 
 ination of your own heart, that religion has not 
 done all that it ought to have done in this respect 
 for my dearest child ; has not something of discon- 
 tent been mingled with the lawful exercise of affec- 
 tion ? has not Christ been in some degree robbed 
 of his love and duty in your heart of late ? 1 en- 
 treat my dear child to take this frank, but affection- 
 ate reproof in good part. I love you so dearly, that 
 I want to see you holy, happy, and heavenly. True, 
 deep, and unfeigned piety will alone induce a right 
 frame ; not the fretful wearied ness of this world, 
 but the mind reconciled to all the dealings of the 
 Lord, because they are His, and that for both 
 worlds. — I gave an historical, antiquarian, ecclesi- 
 astical, picturesque, mineralogical and religious lec- 
 ture on lona and Staffa, to about 150 ladies and 
 gentlemen in the school-room at Olney last Wed- 
 nesday. I spoke for two hours and a half. I pro- 
 duced fifty illustrative pictures, and all my pebbles 
 and other specimens. I did the same at Emberton. 
 All expressed satisfaction. 
 
 '^ Your affectionate Father, 
 
 . ''L. R." 
 
 '' Turvey, Dec, 1824. 
 
 " 1 think, dearest F , that the plan which I 
 
 suggested will be best for your return home ; give 
 me a letter to precede you. ' Hie sumus ;' quiet, 
 comfortable, and uniform in our daily course, with- 
 out many striking events to diversify it by day or 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 85 
 
 by night, anless it be that the younger bairns are 
 rather noisy by day, and the cats in the garden 
 outrageously so by night. Mamma is detained at 
 Bath, by the lingering and precarious state of Mrs. 
 
 C -. Willy is not materially different. My 
 
 dear, much-loved boy I No one will ever know 
 what I have inwardly undergone on his account 
 since May last. I have no reason to doubt that his 
 mind is in a good state, but I think its exercises are 
 somewhat too dependent on the fluctuations of his 
 body. I entreat you, when restored to his com- 
 panionship, to second every wish of my heart in 
 promoting serious, devotional, and determinate 
 piety and occupation of heart. I sometimes fear 
 that his mind is too playful, too comparatively care- 
 less, in the midst of carefulness. He is an invalid 
 of too precarious a class to trifle, or to be trifled 
 with. Watch over his besetting infirmities, and 
 aim, without appearing to intend it, to correct them. 
 " Many persons, God be praised, appear at this 
 time to be under serious impressions, and the Lord's 
 work in this parish is evidently progressing. I 
 earnestly wish to see it so under my own roof, as 
 
 well as in my neighbors' cottages. Yes, my F , 
 
 my own loved child, I wish to witness more positive, 
 decided, uneqaivocal demonstrations of it in your 
 own heart. Beware of substituting mere senti- 
 mentalism for vital experience ; and any, however 
 subtle, species of idolatry for the simple, sincere, 
 unsophisticated love of Jesus. Jesus, the sinner's 
 refuge ! — Jesus, the sinner's friend ! — Jesus, the 
 sinner's companion. Beware of the fascinating but 
 
86 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 dangerous tribe of poets, fictionists, story-tellers, 
 and dramatists, whose writings steal away the heart 
 from God, secretly poison the spring of devotion, 
 create false standards of judgment, and rob God of 
 his honor. Never let the ignis fatuus of genius 
 beguile you into the swamps and puddles of immo- 
 rality, much less of infidelity : the heart is deceitful 
 above all things, and desperately wicked : who can 
 know it ? Ten thousand thieves and robbers within 
 are continually purloining God of our best aftec- 
 tions ; they assume imposing attitudes, array them- 
 selves in false attire, speak flattering words, ' pro- 
 phecy smooth things,' delude the imagination, and 
 darken the soul. Watch and pray, that ye enter 
 not into temptation. Always keep a searching 
 experimental book in private reading, to accompany 
 the study and daily reading of the word of God. 
 Beware of trifling and mere gossiping conversation, 
 even with religious friends ; the aforenamed thieves 
 and robbers are never more active than under the 
 plausible guise of unprofitable intercourse with 
 those whom on good grounds we esteem. 
 
 " ' The time is short' should be written on every 
 one and every thing we see. Dear Charlotte Bu- 
 chanan is now gone to the rest that remaineth for 
 the people of God. Do you not now feel, that had 
 you anticipated so speedy a bereavement, many a 
 thought would have been cherished, many a word 
 uttered, many a conversation held, more congenial 
 with the idea of her early flight from time to 
 eternity, from the visible to the invisible world ? 
 But you know not who may go next. If, then, 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 87 
 
 where health may still bloom on the cheek, so much 
 consideration is due, how much more so, when 
 sickness and anticipated decay warn us that those 
 we love may not long be with us. I deeply feel 
 that our general standard of social and domestic 
 religion is too low. It does not sufficiently partake 
 of the more simple and pure vitality of the poor 
 man's piety. The cottage outstrips the drawing- 
 room, in the genuine characteristics of the gospel 
 efficacy. The religion of the one is more like wine, 
 that of the other wine and water in various degrees 
 of mixture. There is not only to be found in the 
 religious world a solid, substantial, consistent, and 
 devoted character, but there is also what may be 
 termed a pretty genteel sort of evangelism, which 
 too well combines with the luxurious ease and par- 
 tial acquiescence of the world, and the flesh, not to 
 say the devil also. But such evangelism will not 
 prepare the soul for sickness, death, and eternity, or 
 will, at best, leave it a prey to the most fearful 
 doubts, or, still more to be feared, the delusions of 
 false peace. The way that leads to eternal life is 
 much more narrow than many of our modern pro- 
 fessors are aware of ; the gate is too strait to allow 
 all their trifling, and self-will, and fastidiousness, 
 and carnal-mindedness to press through it. The 
 gospel is a system of self-denial : its dictates teach 
 us to strip ourselves, that we may clothe others ; 
 they leave us hungry, that we may have wherewith 
 to feed others ; and send us bare-footed among the 
 thorns of the world, rather than silver-shod, with 
 mincing steps, to walk at our ease amongst its 
 
88 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 snares. When our Lord was asked, ' Are there 
 few that shall be saved ?' he answered neither Yes 
 nor No ; but said, ' Strive to enter in at the strait 
 gate,' and this word ' strive,' might be translated 
 * agonize.' Beware of belonging to that class which 
 Mrs. H. ingeniously calls ' the borderers.' Choose 
 whom you will serve, and take care not to prefer 
 Baal. Ask yourself every night. What portion of 
 the past day have I given to God, to Christ, to 
 devotion, to improvement, to benevolent exertion, 
 to effectual growth in grace ? Weep for the defi- 
 ciencies you therein discover, and pray for pardon 
 and brighter progress. We intend next Thursday 
 to give a little feast to a great company of the poor 
 children of Turvey. Dear Willy will not be able 
 this year to explain the Magic Lantern, and talk to 
 them about ' Lions and Whittingtons,' so we must 
 
 try to be optical without. H will act behind 
 
 the scenes, but make no speeches. # :^ * 
 *****! hope to hear a better 
 
 account of Mrs. W , to whom present my very 
 
 affectionate regards. From my heart I wish you a 
 merry Christmas and a happy new year when it 
 comes. St. James explains ' merry' (James v. 13), 
 so does our Lord (Luke xv. 24). May such merry- 
 makings be ours. Our love to all. Tell Mr. M. 
 to write to Wilberforce. I want correspondents 
 who will do him good, and not trifle. I am to 
 preach two Missionary Sermons at Cambridge on 
 
 the thirteenth. Farewell, my beloved F , come 
 
 quickly here, and be assured how truly I am, 
 " Your faithful loving Father, 
 
 " Legii Richmond." 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 89 
 
 '' January 6, 1825. 
 ** My dear F -5 
 
 "Your communicalion is just such as I ^yish you 
 often and again to repeat. Let your heart be con- 
 fidential, and you will ever find mine responsive to 
 it. * ^ * * May no trifles ever 
 Wean your affections from the unspeakably import- 
 ant subjects of eternity. Idols are bewitching, 
 dangerous things, and steal away the heart from 
 God. The most lawful things may become idols, 
 by fixing an unlawful degree of affection upon them. 
 One reason of the difficulties with which you meet 
 on the subject of prayer may be, the not sufficiently 
 looking by faith unto Christ. Essential as prayer 
 is, both as a privilege, an evidence, an instrument 
 of good, and a source of every blessing : yet it is 
 only the intercessory prayer of Christ, that can 
 render our prayers acceptable and efficacious, and it 
 is only by lively faith in the Great Intercessor, that 
 we can obtain a heart to pray. Thus faith and 
 prayer act in a kind of circle in our minds, and each 
 produces (experimentally), and is produced, by the 
 aid of the other. I am glad you like Mr. Bicker- 
 steth's little book on prayer, — all his publications 
 are good. There are many books as well as general 
 conversations about religious matters which, after 
 all, do not bring home true religion to the heart. 
 Religious gossiping is a deceitful thing and deceives 
 many. How many professors of religion will 
 utter twenty flippant remarks, pro or con, upon 
 a preacher, where one will lay his remarks to 
 his heart. How many look more to the vessel 
 
90 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 than the excellency of the treasure contained in it. 
 Some people cannot relish their tea or coffee, unless 
 served in a delicate cup, with a pretty pattern and 
 a gilt edge. Let poor dear Charlotte Buchanan's 
 sudden call from time to eternity, warn us how 
 needful it is to ' die daily ;' not to trifle with our 
 souls, when eternity may be so near ; nor to boast of 
 the morrow, when we know not what a day may 
 bring forth. Willy is anxious for your return, he 
 droops at present, and wishes to have his dearest 
 friends near hiin. * ^ - * I rejoice to 
 
 find your recent meditations have opened to your 
 conscience besetting infirmities. Press forward, my 
 child, let them not gain an ascendency. Beware of 
 mere sentimentalism, . of satire, of fastidiousness 
 towards persons and things. Beware of bigotry and 
 prejudice, o.f procrastination, of the love of fictions, 
 of dangerous, though fascinating poets, &c. * =^ * 
 I wish you, my love, to attach yourself to visiting 
 the sick, and conversing usefully with the poor ; to 
 the instruction of poor children ; to religious cor- 
 respondence and conversation, with a few sincere 
 friends ; and particularly strive to commence and 
 continue spiritual conversation with our dear Willy. 
 " I lately watched the young moon declining in 
 the western sky — it shone sweetly. Sometimes a 
 cloud shot across the disk — sometimes a floating 
 mist partially obscured it, alternately it was bright 
 again : it sometimes silvered the edge of the very 
 cloud that hid it from sight. At length the lower 
 horn touched the horizon, then the upper horn, and 
 then it wholly disappeared. Venus remained to 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 91 
 
 cheer the gloom, I said to myself, ' There is the 
 decline of my loved boy, and there is the star of 
 hope.' 
 
 *' Your affectionate father, 
 
 " L. Richmond.'* 
 
 I 
 
 ^^ London^ June, 1825« 
 " Dear F. and dear H,. 
 
 ''Between the morninsf and eveninor services of 
 this'day, I have a leisure hour, in which I feel as if 
 I should like to sit down and talk with you two. I 
 miss our early morning exercises much, and this for 
 the present must be the substitute on my part. I 
 have nothing very particular to recount, only that I 
 have been to a few places, where I was last summer 
 with my beloved Wilberforce, and I have indulged 
 the silent tear as I retraced incidents never again to 
 recur. At some places, where my friends remem- 
 ber his visits and conversations, I am asked, ' how 
 he is,' with interest in their manner, and have to tell 
 how he has taken his flight to another and a better 
 world ; and it affects me greatly so to do. I know 
 not how it is with me, in regard to that dear boy's 
 loss, but I talk less and think more than ever about 
 him. The fortnight preceding, and the one succeed- 
 ing his death, are indelibly graven on my heart's rec- 
 ollections, and sometimes overpower me in a way 
 of which none of you have any real idea. Some- 
 times my mind is strengthened, but at others weak- 
 ened by these reflections. I am sometimes com- 
 forted, at others terrified by these exercises of the 
 mind. With what liveliness do the scenes of our 
 
92 FAMILY PORTRAlTURi]. 
 
 northern toUr press upon my mind : the lovely IsIg 
 of Bute with all its magnificent scenery, the incom- 
 parable beauties of Loch Lomond, and Loch Long, 
 with their hospitable friendships ; the wild loveliness 
 of Inverary, and Loch Awe ; the line views on the 
 Firth of Clyde, with the moral and intellectual char- 
 acteristics of many a kind friend ; the steamboats, 
 the carts, the cars, the mountains, all associate with 
 him^ and are endeared to me beyond expression. I 
 linger over all the spots we visited togethor, itora 
 Loch Awe to Glasgow, Carlisle, Keswick, Wood- 
 house, Matlock, 6cc., to Turvey. I love to think of 
 our private reading in my little bed-room at Roth- 
 say ; his first communion at Greenock, and then to 
 connect all with his closing days. It is my weak- 
 ness, my fault, my misfortune, that I cannot ex- 
 press more of my mind and feelings to you both. 
 
 Dear, dear H ! you are now become the prop 
 
 and stay of my declining years ; think mucli of the 
 station in which God has placed you. My first- 
 born is a distant wanderer, and God knows when or 
 whether I shall see him again on earth. My second 
 boy is taken from me, you are my third, but now 
 my first. Be such to your two brothers, particularly 
 
 to L ; he needs your constant superintending 
 
 care ; watch over him, do not leave him to sock un- 
 profitable associates ; cherish the little germ of hope, 
 which God has planted in my bosom concerning 
 him, let your example influence, and your kind at- 
 tentions encourage him in every good way, and 
 think much of your own soul. Beware of declen- 
 sions, — remember the la.^t words of dear Wilbcr- 
 
LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 93 
 
 force, — live up to his advice. How my heart yearns 
 over you, and all your prospects. What are you ? 
 What are you to be, my loved child ? Write to 
 me freely. 
 
 *' And my F also ; are you as much alive to 
 
 spiritual things, as when you hastened to the dying 
 bed of dear Willy, — as when you wept over his 
 coffin ? My child, dread all decays, and may the 
 flame of spiritual piety never grow dim amidst the 
 mists of unworthier speculations. Visit the cot- 
 tages, — forsake not the poor, for your Father's sake. 
 
 "I have been this morning where you might 
 least have expected to find me ; but I went not 
 from curiosity, but from a conscientious wish to 
 know and judge for myself, viz., to the Roman 
 Catholic Chapel in Moorfields, to hear high mass. 
 I was astonished at the decorations, the gorgeous 
 dresses of the bishop and priests, charmed with the 
 exquisite beauty of the music, disgusted at the 
 ceremonial mummery of the service, and uncon- 
 vinced by the bishop's eloquent sermon in defence 
 of transubstantiation. It was all illusion, delusion, 
 and collusion. The service lasted near four hours. 
 I bless God more than ever for true Protestantism. 
 I shall hear the Messiah performed to-morrow. — 
 Such music I love, it lifts my soul to heaven. I 
 am sick and disgusted with common light modern 
 songs, — they are unfit for Christians. Oh I what 
 music is my Willy enjoying in heaven. Shall we 
 all enjoy it with him? The question often sinks 
 me in the dtist. My dear, my most dear children I 
 press forward to the prize of the mark of oar high 
 
94 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 calling in Christ Jesns. There is an immense gulf 
 to be passed. Who is sufficient for these things ? 
 
 " Say truly kind and pastoral things for me to my 
 dear people at Turvey. Truly I have them in 
 my heart. — My children all, I kiss you from a dis- 
 tance ; believe how much and how tenderly I love 
 vou I ^ ^ ^ 
 
 *' p. S. — Monday. — I am just returned from 
 hearing the Messiah, In the two grand chorusses, 
 I thought I could hear my Willy's voice, and it 
 quite overcame me. Past, present, and future, min- 
 gled in strange and affecting combination. These 
 feelings are sometimes too much for your poor 
 father." 
 
CHAPTER IV. t 
 
 A man that is young in yeais, may be old in hours, if he have lost no 
 time. — Bacon. 
 
 It may easily be conceived with what anxiety 
 Mr. R. would contemplate the removal of his boys 
 from the paternal roof, when their age should ren- 
 der it unavoidable. The difficulty of placing young 
 persons in suitable situations is greatly increased in 
 the present day by the numbers who are pressing 
 into every trade and profession, and by the modern 
 practice of excluding youth from the master's fam- 
 ily ; a practice which may conduce to the comfort 
 and convenience of the latter, but which necessarily 
 exposes the clerk and the apprentice to the worst 
 temptations. Mr. R. knew perhaps less than many 
 other parents how to place out his children to ad- 
 vantage. He was not wise for this world, and 
 though few had fairer opportunities, or friends more 
 able to advise and help him, he shrunk from avail- 
 ing himself of these advantages, to a degree which 
 we cannot approve, while we respect his delicacy 
 and paramount regard to the honor of religion. He 
 was not the ablest counsellor under such circum- 
 stances, except indeed on one point, that the wel- 
 fare of the soul should be the governing principle 
 in the selection of a profession. He gave an un- 
 bounded liberty of choice to his children, with one 
 
96 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 exception — an exception which it is difficult to im- 
 agine would not equally be made by every Christian 
 parent. The profession of arms, if not in itself un- 
 lawful, is so irreconcilable with the spirit of a peace- 
 able religion ; and a life of comparative idleness, or 
 of activity amidst the horrors of destruction, is so 
 repugnant to the principles and feelings of a disciple 
 whose Master came not to destroy but to save men's 
 lives, that a right-minded man can scarcely be sup- 
 posed to admit a preference for it. Persons of un- 
 doubted piety have been discovered in camps as 
 well as in peaceful fields, but it has generally been 
 found that their knowledge of God was subsequent 
 to their choice of profession. The Christian under 
 an actual engagement in a service may decide " to 
 abide in the calling wherein he is called," and honor 
 God in his vocation ; but this is a widely different 
 determination from a choice made with the knowl- 
 edge of peace and love in Christ Jesus. 
 
 One of those events which often inspire a prefer- 
 ence for a soldier's life — I mean the show of military 
 parade, excited this inclination in Mr. Richmond's 
 younger son. To this choice Mr. R. expressed his 
 dissent in the strongest terms. " Anything but 
 this," said he, " anything but this— the very men- 
 tion of a military life fills me with horror ; I cannot 
 bear to think of a child of mine engaging in scenes 
 of bloodshed and destruction. No consideration on 
 earth could extort my consent. It would make me 
 really miserable." 
 
 The following letter to his daughter F is the 
 
RESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 97 
 
 best transcript of his thoughts and feelings on this 
 subject. 
 
 *' I grant, dearest F , you may charge me 
 
 with the fault of which you have often been culpa- 
 ble ; I have no very good reason to assign for delay, 
 and therefore will rather take my share of blame, 
 than furnish you with a bad argument, or a bad ex- 
 ample, in the duty of letter- writing, ^ ^ # j 
 rejoice in your account of Turvey, a spot that is 
 always in my mind's eye, when not in my sight. 
 Dear loved parochial and domestic village I Thou 
 art endeared to me by a thousand considerations, 
 both as it respects the living and the dead. 'When 
 I forget thee, let my right hand forget her cunnino^.' 
 No succession of time or circumstances has weaned 
 or ever can wean my heart from the chancel vault. 
 There is a young triumvirate increasingly endured 
 to me, one in heaven and two on earth, and their 
 names shall be recorded together, — Wilberforce, 
 
 Henry, and C , Dear boys I born in the same 
 
 village, companions in the same school, partners in 
 the same recreations, partakers of the same eucha- 
 ristic table, friends in every social pursuit, and dare 
 I say, heirs of the same glory ? United by the ties 
 of the same grace on earth, may they share the 
 same felicity in heaven. I am glad that your med- 
 itations have been, of late, deep and important. 
 Pray that they may continue so. Life is short, 
 eternity is at hand ; banish all needless reserve, ban- 
 ish levity, banish dulness, be much with Christ in 
 prayer, and, I had well-nigh added, much with your 
 father in his study. Cultivate an interior acquaint* 
 5 
 
98 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 ance with H , and cl() all yon can with L 
 
 and T . There is something wanting amongst 
 
 us, whether in family duet or chorus, as to really 
 improving and spiritual conversation ; to(3 much 
 worldly bustle, too much regard to passing events, 
 too much consequent alienation from the one, the 
 only thing needful. Without inquiring who is the 
 most in fault, let each of us strive to resist the evil 
 and cleave to the good. =^ * * When I think 
 of my boys and C , I bless God for village se- 
 clusion, and gi-eatly rejoice that they have been kept 
 at a comparative distance from the evil communi- 
 cations which corrupt good manners. The world, 
 even in its apparently harmless form, is a terrible 
 snare to the young and uninformed mind. * # * 
 I before gave you my opini(>n on Sunday evening 
 walks, I have often earnestly denounced them to 
 the people, and need not add a word to you on this 
 head. * * * * There is a subject which often 
 hangs heavy on my spirits, I mean my poor dear 
 
 T 's incHnation for a military life. Hating war 
 
 as I do from my very heart ; convinced as I am of 
 the inconsistency of it with real Christianity, and 
 looking on the profession of arms as irreconcilable 
 with the principles of the gospel, I should mourn 
 greatly if one of my boys chose so cruel, and, gene- 
 rally speaking, so profligate a line of life. I could 
 never consent to it on conscientious grounds, and 
 therefore wish this bias for the profession of arms to 
 be discouraged. I dislike and oppose it with my 
 whole heart. May God, the God of peace bless 
 you, my much loved F ; give a Christian mes- 
 
RESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 99 
 
 sage of pastoral love to my dear flock ; I often think 
 and pray for them. Love to the boys. You know 
 well how truly and sincerely I am, 
 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 '' TiEGii Richmond." 
 
 The strongest desire Mr. R. ever expressed with 
 respect to his children, was, that they might devote 
 themselves to the service of the sanctuary. " I 
 have no concern," he used to say, " about their 
 temporal provision, God will take care of that ; 
 but I should rejoice to see every one of my boys, 
 actively and usefully engaged in the church of 
 
 God." His son H chose the sacred profession, 
 
 to which his father consented, but the necessity of 
 his removal to the university haunted him like a 
 spectre. He passed many anxious days and sleep- 
 less nights in anticipation of the event ; and at 
 times he seemed to be in the deepest trouble ; he 
 talked and wrote continually about the possible 
 consequences of it. The subject seemed to absorb 
 his thoughts, and depress his spirits : " What if my 
 boy should fall a victim to associations which have 
 blasted the fairest hopes of many a Christian parent. 
 He may do without learning, but he is rained body 
 and soul if he be not wise unto salvation." Such 
 acute distress may appear to some a sort of extrav- 
 agance, and to others a pitiable dotage. It is true, 
 feelings of this order require control, but allowance 
 should be made for the overflowings of parental 
 anxiety, and the dread of a transition and revolu- 
 tion of habits not without danger, and affording just 
 
100 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 grounds of apprehension. There are occasions in 
 which it is difficult to preserve the mind in due 
 balance, when not to feel deeply implies a culpable 
 indifference to the interests of eternity, or at least 
 a very low estimate of their paramount importance. 
 
 Mr. Richmond, as will appear from subsequent 
 events, was standing on the verge of eternity ; his 
 health and spirits had been greatly shattered by the 
 severe family trials through which he had lately 
 been made to pass ; and his feelings on all subjects 
 connected with religion, were wrought up to a pitch 
 of acuteness which rendered unnecessary contact 
 with the world almost insupportable. There need 
 seldom, however, be any dread of a glow of feeling 
 that " would consume us ;" it is much more to be 
 deplored, that men can sustain the '' exceeding 
 weight of things which are eternal" with so little 
 emotion, and waste their chief energies on those 
 which endure only for a season and then flee away 
 forever. 
 
 With respect to our universities, I am not dis- 
 posed to join in the unmeasured and ignorant 
 objurgation, with which they have been assailed by 
 their enemies, and even by those who owe much 
 of their eminence in society to the advantages 
 derived from them. It is easy to blame and difficult 
 to improve ; plausible theories may be suggested, 
 and tlie rude hand of revolution, under the specious 
 name of reform, may proceed to experiments, which 
 are often mischievous, and always uncertain in their 
 issue. The question is not what is desirable, but 
 what is practicable : how little is to be expected 
 
RESIDENCE AT THE UNIVERSITY. 101 
 
 from attempting too much, is observable in the 
 strictness of statutes, even to absurd jpninutise, com- 
 pared with the feeble discipline, which corrupt 
 beings will allow to be enforced. It is indeed 
 devoutly to be wished, that a more vigilant super- 
 intendence were exercised over the private habits 
 of the young men, as to the facilities of contracting 
 debts, and of admission into college after the clos- 
 ing of the gates ; that something more of the spirit 
 of religion were infused into its forms . that less 
 were left to the discretion of " the mad age ;" that 
 the authority and duty of the tutor should not be 
 confined to the hours of lecture. Desirable as are 
 such improvements in college discipline, I am not 
 prepared to show how they can be made, unless 
 the minds of men were more deeply impressed with 
 the true end of education, the training a soul for 
 eternity : and T shall not indulge in idle declamation 
 against evils which I may lament, but cannot cure. 
 The dangers incident to inexperienced youth at the 
 university are confessedly great, but they attach 
 to all situations of their early career, and are not 
 peculiar to their residence at these noble monu- 
 ments of ancient piety and munificence. Yet, a 
 Christian parent, in matriculating his son at College, 
 will feel increasing responsibility to commend him 
 to the Spirit of God for protection and guidance, 
 and to use every precaution against the evil influ- 
 ence to which he may be exposed from the corrupt 
 example of contemporaries, or the too great liberty 
 allowed to himself I would suggest the inestimable 
 advantages to be obtained from the help and super- 
 
102 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 intendence of a private tutor, of an age to be a 
 companion, ai^ of talents and piety sufficient to 
 make him a useful guide. Sach a one intrusted 
 with authority to direct his pupiPs conduct and 
 studies, would secure everything, within human 
 means, which an anxious parent could desire. 
 
 The last production of Mr. R.'s pen was a paper 
 of v/arnings and instructions for his son. This 
 paper was found on his table after his death, and 
 was evidently the result of his dying meditations. 
 I deeply regret that it has been lost, and that I 
 cannot gratify the reader by the valuable hints 
 which it might have suggested. The subject, how- 
 ever, is too important to be passed over in silence, 
 and I will venture to supply the defect by a letter 
 of my own, written under circumstances not much 
 dissimilar. 
 
 TO A YOUNG FRIEND ON GOING TO COLLEGE. 
 " My DEAR YOUNG FRIEND, 
 
 ''You request ray advice on a subject which 
 will probably give a direction to your whole life. 
 I give it you with the more satisfaction, because I 
 believe you are not one of those who ask counsel 
 with a previous determination to follow their own 
 judgment, and who set no value on experience for 
 which they have not paid the price in their own 
 mistakes ; but are anxiously looking out for a guide, 
 and ready to follow him. After twelve years' res- 
 idence in one of our universities, I may fairly be 
 supposed to know something both of their dangers 
 and advantages. I am aware of the temptations to 
 
LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN. 103 
 
 which you will be exposed in your new situation ; 
 yet with respect to myself, I may assert, that they 
 were by no means so great as others have repre- 
 sented them, — fewer, and less dangerous than the 
 after trials of manhood, or even those of my boyish 
 days at school. 
 
 " The opportunity you now have of acquiring 
 solid learning, and of laying the foundation of all 
 that will be useful to you in life, is incalculably 
 valuable, and it should be your chief concern to 
 embrace the golden moment with firm and steady 
 grasp. Accept then, with my best wishes and 
 prayers for your welfare, the result of past obser- 
 vation at Alma Mater. 
 
 '^1. Wherever you are, in or out of the univer- 
 sity, much will depend on the regulation of your- 
 self. We are apt to lay the blame of our indiscre- 
 tions and failures on our circumstances, and to 
 suppose that we should act differently under other 
 influences ; but this is a great mistake ; for cir- 
 cumstances, though I admit they have a powerful 
 influence on our conduct, do not so much form, as 
 discover our character. Be ' Lord of your own 
 mind,' and you will rise above outward trials. Try, 
 then, to understand yourself — your strong, and 
 your weak points. 
 
 " Begin and end the day with prayer ; but con- 
 tent not yourself with an indolent or hurried exer- 
 cise of devotion without heart or meaning, and a 
 cursory or irregular glancing at a passage of Scrip- 
 ture, under an idea of satisfying conscience, or 
 doing your duty. Consider seriously the chief end 
 
104 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 of the appointment, as the prescribed channel o{ 
 intercourse with God. Your strength, success, and 
 preservation from evil, all depend on communion 
 with him. Everything will go well or ill witlj 
 you, in proportion as you arc brought into contact 
 with the divine Spirit. In reading the Bible, (I am 
 now speaking of religion and its practical application 
 to your heart and conscience, and not of theology as 
 a science and profession,) take a few verses, and 
 meditate and pray over them till you get the spirit 
 and meaning of them wrought into your own sonl. 
 If you do not understand a passage, you may apply 
 to a commentator for explanation ; otherwise bo 
 your own expositor, — preach to your own heart, 
 and feed on the word of God amidst the aspirations 
 of prayer and praise, and heavenly thoughts and 
 affections. Examine yourself by it, to obtain con- 
 viction of sin, and to discover your defects and 
 besetments, — to judge of your progress, and pray 
 for uprightness and deep seriousness. Look for- 
 ward to the probable events of the day, and seek 
 grace and help to meet trial, and improve oppor- 
 tunity. Consider that you are entering society 
 with a body of sin and death, ever liable to impart 
 or receive injury, and while you carefally guard 
 against the approaches of evil, you should aim, like 
 your master, to 'go about doing good.' I think an 
 hour may be well employed in this holy exercise. 
 At night, a shorter time may suffice ; for the spirits 
 will flag, and the body ho wearied. The efficacy 
 of prayer does not depend on the length of time 
 employed in acts of devotion : God thinks of mercy, 
 
LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN. 105 
 
 and not sacrifice, and so must you. Such remarks 
 are applicable to all persons and situations, but are 
 more especially important to one in your circum- 
 stances. You are now deprived of your father's 
 conversation, and the devotional exercises of the 
 family, and you have need to redouble your dili- 
 gence in private devotion. Remember, then, that 
 your first and gTcatest trial will be in your closet ; 
 and if you fail here, all will go wrong with you 
 throughout the day. If you rob God, to turn to 
 Euclid or Euripides, or hurry away to chapel with- 
 out private prayer, because you have given way to 
 sloth, — other motives may stimulate you to be dili- 
 gent in business, but you will not long continue 
 ' fervent in spirit, serving the Lord ;' and if his 
 Holy Spirit forsake you, — and he will forsake you 
 if you grieve him by neglect of the means of grace, 
 ■ — you will fall into many inconsistencies, and in 
 the end lose all love for religion, and concern for 
 your soul, and perhaps by your conduct discredit 
 yourself even in the eyes of the world. 
 
 "It is a good habit to keep some subject in mind 
 for occasional employment, — a promise — a precept 
 — an attribute of God, on which to meditate in 
 every vacant moment. There are intervals in the 
 course of your college duties, when you cannot sit 
 down to serious studies. An idle moment furnishes 
 at all times a nidus for a temptation. 
 
 "2. Be very cautious in the formation of friend- 
 ships. Your religious and general improvement 
 will be closely connected with the character of your 
 associates. 
 
 5* 
 
106 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 " You will find me correct in dividing the young 
 men into two clashes ; of which one affects to des- 
 pise, and the other professes to honor religion. The 
 former class comprise three sets or parties, all agree- 
 ing to live without God in the world, but differing 
 in their manners and pursuits. The first of the 
 three are the men of family and fortune, who spend 
 their time in amusement, attending as little as 
 possible to the studies of the place. For the most 
 part they are men of profligate habits, though not 
 all equally vicious. These call themselves the gen- 
 tlemen. There is another set of young men who 
 pass by the name of tlie scamps ; who are not bet- 
 ter disposed than the former, but they have not the 
 same means of doing mischief to themselves or 
 others ; they are, however, quite as ignorant, idle, 
 and thoughtless, with the addition of coarseness and 
 vulgarity of manners. To neither of these classes 
 must you approximate, but (to speak academically) 
 you must cut them all. I am under no apprehen- 
 sion of your familiarizing yourself with low com- 
 pany ; but a silk gown, or a gold tuft, — a wish to 
 form a high connexion, may tempt you to tolerate 
 what ought to be intolerable to you. At first you 
 may feel disgust at profane and vicious language 
 and manners. Insensibly they will excite less hor- 
 ror. After a time you will think it enough to be 
 personally exempt from these offences — then you 
 may begin to excuse and palliate ; till at length you 
 break bounds, and assume a conduct, and avow a 
 creed, repugnant to your judgment, and which your 
 heart secretly condemns. You will have no diffi- 
 
LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN. 107 
 
 culty in avoiding such associates ; for, unless you 
 seek an introduction, they will not notice you. The 
 third party which pretends to no religion are those 
 who are called the reading men at Cambridge, and 
 the quizzes at Oxford. Their diligent application 
 to study, and desire of distinction in the university, 
 are worthy of your imitation ; for you are sent to 
 college, not merely to get a degree, and barely 
 escape rejection at last, but to obtain a creditable 
 testimony that you have profited by the studies of 
 the place : yet, while I commend the industry of the 
 characters alluded to, and their generally correct 
 conduct, I do not hesitate to say, that their motives 
 and objects are not such as I could enforce upon you. 
 ^' It is possible that my advice to you may be 
 different from that of some who nevertheless agree 
 with me in principle. I remember it was said to 
 
 you by , ' Don't look at every man not strictly 
 
 religious as a wild bear, and a dangerous compan- 
 ion.' Certainly it is not a duty to cherish morose 
 feelings, but rather to cultivate a sweetness of tem- 
 per, and a courteous behavior towards all : and an 
 occasional interchange of visits v^th those who will 
 converse profitably on literary pursuits, cannot be 
 objected to. Yet I wish to be more explicit as to 
 the proper degree of intercourse with those who do 
 not fear God, however creditable and desirable the 
 acquaintance may be in other respects. If you 
 were of long standing in religion, you might venture 
 on many things which you cannot now attempt with 
 safety. They might even become a duty. The 
 firemen must scale the burning roof, while the spec- 
 
108 FAMILY PORTRAITURE, 
 
 tator of the flames had better keep. at a distance. 
 You must not try how much poison your constitu- 
 tion will bear, or risk your soul's health for the sake 
 of any temporal advantage. Tlie ivorld — by which 
 I mean those who are ignorant of religion, or whose 
 hearts are not in it,- — must ever be to the true ChriS' 
 tian, a cross, or a snare ; and luhen it ceases to be 
 the one, it ivill invariably become the other. I 
 cannot approve of whole evenings passed in com- 
 pany, where it is understood that God is never to 
 be referred to, and where the least observation con- 
 nected with eternity, creates a silence, if it does not 
 provoke a sneer, an opposition of sentiment, or a 
 feeling of distaste. To be much in society of this 
 kind beyond the demands of duty or necessity, 
 which you can seldom plead, is surely no better 
 than constructive treason against our Lord and 
 Saviour. If you make the experiment, mark the 
 effect on your own mind. If the tone of religious 
 feeling be impaired, if you grow dull and heartless 
 in devotion, be assured that something is wrong in 
 your motives, pursuits, and associations. So long 
 as you agree to live and converse as if the world 
 were everything and God nothing, you may be 
 tolerated, though your professed attachment to reli- 
 gion be known ; or you may even be respected for 
 qualities that are amiable and estimable, and your 
 society may afford satisfaction to literary young 
 men, who would keep you at a distance if you acted 
 consistently with your profession of a purer faith, 
 and stricter conversation. The old rule, ' noscitur 
 a sociis,' is a very wise and safe one. Compare the 
 
LETTER TO A VOUNG MAN. 109 
 
 conversation of your new associates, if you form 
 such, with the discussions you have heard under 
 the paternal roof ; wliere, though the subjects were 
 not always strictly religious, yet the spirit in which 
 they were treated had a tendency not only to im- 
 prove the mind, but in some way or other to sanctify 
 the heart. Perhaps I feel the more strongly on this 
 subject, partly from having seen many a hopeful 
 young person entirely ruined by a friendship formed 
 on merely literary grounds, and partly because I 
 perceive a gradual breaking down of old-fashioned 
 distinctions, to the serious injury of true religion. 
 
 " Your father has, I find, earnestly entreated you 
 to cast in your lot with those who, by way of re- 
 proach, are termed the saints. I know more of this 
 class than he does, who must be in a degree unac- 
 quainted with university habits and students ; and 
 I would recommend you not to identify yourself 
 with a sect or party of any kind, without careful 
 discrimination. The religion of the Bible is often 
 a different thing from that of its professed advo- 
 cates ; and if our hearts be right with God, there 
 will be occasions when we must stand alone. I do 
 not mean to reflect on the religious body ; for what- 
 ever holiness or truth there is in the world, will be 
 found chiefly among them ; but false brethren have 
 ever crept unawares into the Church of God, and 
 have done great injury to sincere and honest mem- 
 bers of it ; and there is always reason to fear that 
 when credit and interest are promoted by a profes- 
 sion of religion, some will consent to wear our 
 badge, who are strangers to our principles. In this 
 
110 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 class you will also find the sons of truly good men, 
 introduced and noticed on the score of their parents' 
 piety. These are acquainted with the theory of re- 
 ligion, but their hearts are far from being influenced 
 by it ; and former restraints being removed, they 
 are apt to yield to corrupt inclination ; and if they 
 even keep within the bounds of decency, (which is 
 not always the case,) they gradually adopt the 
 manners and habits of the world. Some of higher 
 pretensions to piety, affect to despise both the studies 
 and honors of the university, and become mere idlers 
 and gossips. They are ready for disputation, and 
 arrogant in maintaining some peculiar view of their 
 own, to the neglect of the plain, simple, practical 
 truths of religion. You need not incur a quarrel 
 in shunning their society. Hold up the torch of 
 real, spiritual, heart religion, and these birds of the 
 night will flee away and leave you. You will also 
 meet with a few religionists of a squeamish fastidi- 
 ous spirit, who cannot tolerate the defects of less 
 polished, but truly honest and sincere young men. 
 Their idol is talent, which seems to men of this 
 order to compensate for the want of piety, if it does 
 not excuse much that is wrong in principle and 
 practice. They seldom discover any vigor, or 
 meaning, or spirituality in their religious profes- 
 sion; but dwell much on gentlemanly behavior, 
 and a proper compliance with the world. You 
 must seek your companions amongst those who 
 have evidently thrown heart and soul into the ser- 
 vice of their master, and prefer an honest man with 
 his blunders and disadvantages, to those who spar- 
 
LETTER TO A YOUNG MAN. 
 
 Ill 
 
 kle with the splendor of superior talent, but whose 
 morbid sensibilities chill the glow of piety. 
 
 "3. I particularly recommend you to decline 
 breakfast parties ; for even when the conversation 
 may be interesting and generally improving, there 
 is a temptation to prolong it unreasonably, and 
 thus to infringe upon the regular hours and habits 
 of study. 
 
 " 4. When at college I had a great dread of 
 loungers. My rooms being near the tutor's, I was 
 liable to be pestered with triflers who came to pass 
 away half an hour in just doing nothing. To bid 
 them leave me would have been an act of incivility ; 
 to have looked sour or appeared fidgetty, would have 
 seemed not less so ; yet repeated interruptions be- 
 came at last insupportable, and I had recourse to a 
 stratagem which I thought innocent, and which w^as 
 certainly very successful. I entertained the man of 
 taste with the discord of my violincello, and the man 
 of no taste with a passage from a classic. After 
 yawning a response or two he soon left me, voted 
 me a bore, and sought more congenial society. If 
 you are hard pushed you may make the experiment, 
 and I can promise a similar result. Security from 
 morning interruptions must be obtained at any ex- 
 pense. Idleness is very contagious, and gossiping 
 of all kinds is a sad waste of time. 
 
 " 5. Remember (for it is an invaluable maxim) 
 that method is the soul of business^ and that steady 
 perseverance is necessary to your successful cultiva- 
 tion of knowledge. Let your time be duly portioned 
 out, and everything done in its season. — Let each 
 
112 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 hour have its allotted employment. — Rise early. — 
 Keep good hours — your health and success both de- 
 pend on it. Sitting up late is a very bad habit. 
 Guard against inequality and irregularity : if you 
 read hard for a week, and then idle away whole 
 days in boating and riding, you will make less 
 progress than persons inferior to yourself in ability, 
 but who are steady and regular in their application. 
 Nothing is to be done by fits and starts. 
 
 " 6. You ou^ht not to think of des^radins: into the 
 class called the non-reading men^ and content your- 
 self with a Pol degree^ under an idle pretence of 
 gaining more general knowledge : aim at some aca- 
 demical distinction. I dare not hold out to you as 
 a motive, the love of reputation or the gratification 
 of pride ; but study night and day to honor God 
 and religion. It is worth while to labor hard to 
 have something valuable in the eyes of the world to 
 lay at the foot of the cross. I have always admired 
 Selden's reply, when asked how a man of his attain- 
 ments could lower himself by superstition (for such 
 his piety was miscalled) — ' You may despise relig- 
 ion, but whatever be my attainments in human 
 learning, I do count them all but dung and dross in 
 comparison of the excellency of the knowledge of 
 Jesus Christ my Lord.' Men will value the truth 
 as they respect those who profess it. You may find 
 persons who cloak their indolence or their dulness 
 under a misapplication of some text of Scripture ; 
 but be assured the most spiritual and really useful 
 men, if not al\^ys possessed of the greatest talent, 
 are those w^ho have made the most of their oppor- 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 113 
 
 tunities. No one's name slumbers in the Tripos ; it 
 follows him through life, and what he has been at 
 College, will help or injure his influence in many a 
 country village. When a young clergyman excites 
 attention by a serious application to his duties, it is 
 a common inquiry amongst persons who might be 
 supposed not to trouble themselves about such mat- 
 ters. What degree did he take ? Was he distin- 
 guished at College ? and he will rise or sink in their 
 estimation accordingly. There may be prejudice 
 and mistake in this, but it carries no small weight 
 to be able to say. Are they philosophers, mathema- 
 ticians, or linguists ? so am I. Besides, the habit of 
 application to subjects not immediately connected 
 with religion, is a good discipline of the mind, and 
 will accustom it to correct and deep thinking on re- 
 ligion itself. The studies of the university are not, 
 as some suppose, a mere literary trial of skill, and 
 of no further use than to fill up a space in human 
 life, or fit a man for scientific pursuits alone. If 
 you find the lectures dry or your Latin irksome, 
 think of working for God's glory, and Christ's honor, 
 and it will infuse a vigor and sweetness into them. 
 I have heard some good young men complain of the 
 loss of spirituality and taste for the Bible, and as- 
 cribe this mischief to the absorbing influence of 
 their studies ; but their studies are not to blame, — 
 it is the spirit, design, and end with which they are 
 undertaken. A man may hold communion with 
 God through any medium, or in any occupation, if 
 his heart and aim be right : he may become carnal 
 in the midst of theological pursuits, and may pre- 
 
114 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 serve the utmost spirituality while wading through 
 the rubbish of the schools. Remember that it is 
 not your work, but your motive, which will injure 
 or keep alive your piety. 
 
 " You will be required to go to the college chapel 
 morning and evening, with the exception of seven 
 or eight times a weelv, when you may exercise your 
 own discretion as to attendance. I would advise 
 you to be ahvays present. The example even of 
 the religious young men may fail you ; many of 
 whom regard this regular attendance as a waste of 
 time. They complain of the rapid and slovenly 
 way in which the service is performed, and that 
 there is no devotion in chants and anthems. But 
 you have nothing to do with the offences of others, 
 or wdth modes of worship. It is God's house, God's 
 service. Honor both, and you shall not have to 
 bewail the unprofitableness of prayer under any 
 circumstances or defects. I enjoy cathedral ser- 
 vice, — it is to me truly devotional. Men who dis- 
 like music may find it less in unison with their 
 feelings, but before it is denounced as a relic of 
 popery it should be remembered that the temple 
 service was still more musical, and our Lord was 
 there. He would not have sanctioned by his pres- 
 ence a mode of worship which contained in it any- 
 thing injurious to devotion, or inconsistent with a 
 right frame of spirit in a true worshipper. Go, 
 also, to chapel in proper time ; I know the colleges 
 allow their young men to come in when a third of 
 the service is over, without a mark of absence : a 
 practice which (with all due submission to masters 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 115 
 
 and deans) gives me a painful feeling, for it looks as 
 if chapel attendance was considered as a mere roll- 
 call, and it is not surprising that the juniors should 
 hurry to chapel from their beds in a disgraceful dis- 
 habille under cover of the gown or the surplice. At 
 first your motives may be suspected, but consist- 
 ency in this and all other things will ultimately 
 procure respect. 
 
 "7. Never think any time misspe?it ivhich is 
 employed in the service and presence of God. Your 
 attendance at St. Mary's, though expected, is not 
 exacted. I have been sorry to hear some young 
 men of high pretensions to religion speak very con- 
 temptuously of University sermons, and excuse 
 their neglect of attending them on the ground of 
 unprofitableness. Many admirable discourses for 
 head and heart are delivered at that church, and it 
 is a want of sense to compare a University pulpit 
 with that of a parish. Sermons are much improved 
 in doctrine and application since my day, yet even 
 then I seldom heard a discourse from which I could 
 not gain something useful, either in the elucidation 
 of the text, or by inference, and use of the preach- 
 er's material. But whatever be the defect of a ser- 
 mon, recollect who has set you the example of hon- 
 oring the appointment of lawful authority in church 
 and state, and " fulfilling all righteousness." I would 
 have you affiliate yourself to the habits, usages 
 studies, and worship of a university man, and to 
 cultivate a spirit of modesty, regularity, order, hu- 
 mility, and submission ; as the prime duty and 
 greatest ornament of a young man in statu pu- 
 
116 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 pillari^ whose province it is to learn and not to 
 teach. 
 
 '' 8. You wish me to sketch out a plan of study, 
 and an orderly arrangement of your time. Much 
 depends on college appointments ; but leaving you 
 to improve or alter in reference to them. I will com- 
 ply with your request, observing that it is more 
 easy for me to dictate, than for yon to execute. 
 You have need to pray for firmness and resolution ; 
 since any relaxation or breach on your part, except 
 in cases of imperious necessity, will leave you re- 
 solving and re-resolving, but never attaining to any 
 eminence. I suppose the chapel service at eight in 
 the morning and six in the evening, hall at four, 
 Icctare at ten, with some other college exercise 
 which you must arrange as you can, the amount of 
 time will be the same. Be always at your private 
 devotions at six in the morning. I need not repeat 
 what I have already said on this subject, except it 
 be again to urge you, on no account to proceed to 
 business, till you have sought help from God. If 
 you be not inflexibly steady and regular on this 
 point, you will lose the spirit of religion, and retain 
 only the dregs of form, amidst gods and goddesses, 
 cubes and squares, and triangles, and all the nuilti- 
 tudinous ideas which are poured into your mind. 
 Devote the next hour to Theology ; I will give you 
 the first year to get an acquaintance with the He- 
 brew Bible and Greek Testament, till you can read 
 both with as much ease as the English version. 
 You will need no other helps than BuxtorfF's small 
 lexicon, and Sehleusner's two volumes for the Tes- 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 117 
 
 tament. You are tolerably ready with the gram- 
 mar of each language, or I should have added Si- 
 mon's grammar for the Hebrew. The very few 
 chapters in Chaldee will be easily mastered with 
 BuxtorfF's larger grammer and lexicon. Use and 
 observation will supply a more critical knowledge 
 of these languages without any other assistance. 
 Employ the second year Avith Scott, for a further 
 acquaintance with the Scriptures. I might point 
 out more able expositors on detached portions, but 
 you will find in him a good compilation from more 
 extensive works. You need not perplex yourself 
 with too many expositors. It would be a very 
 heavy imposition to wade through all the trash and 
 prosings which have been appended to divinity. 
 Difficulties may sometimes be cleared up by Chro- 
 nology, Geography, and Parallelisms, but in most 
 cases the Bible is its own and best interpreter. For 
 the same hour in the third year, read Hartweli 
 Home. This is an invaluable book for a young 
 man, and yon must not lay him aside till you have 
 fully digested his admirable compilations, to guide 
 you in more discursive reading hereafter. College 
 preparations will sufficiently embrace the subject 
 of evidences. Let me seriously caution you against 
 a spirit of curious metaphysical inquiry on those 
 parts of theology, which are more fit for age and 
 experience, if indeed they are ever safe, or profit- 
 able, or intelligible. The arrogant dogmatism of 
 some religionists is intolerable, their presumption 
 full of danger, and their spirit and temper most 
 unchristian. On many points it is best to say with 
 
118 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 Leigh ton, " Here I choose rather to stand on the 
 shore, and in the survey of God's judgments ex- 
 claim, ' Oh the depths,' than venture out upon the 
 fathomless abyss, from which I may never return." 
 The present is a childish dispensation, in which we 
 must be content to know little, and strive to do 
 much. During the remaining half year of your 
 academical residence, spend an hour each day in 
 pulpit composition. I hope you do not intend to be 
 a copyist, or one of Dr. Trusler's disciples. Enrich 
 your sermons to the utmost with the ideas of others, 
 wrought into your own mind, but never transcribe. 
 I am not instructing you how to preach, but how 
 to prepare materials, or I should say many things 
 in relation to the ministry. Get a Bible interleaved, 
 and note down all you hear or read relating to the 
 more important texts. I began to do this at an 
 early age, and my preaching Bible now contains a 
 mass of references to authors, treatises, commenta- 
 tors, and single sermons, on most important ques- 
 tions : so that half my work is done before I begin 
 to compose. My tools are at hand, and I have no 
 need to hunt for them. You will find some useful 
 hints in Claude's Essay on the frame- work of a 
 sermon, and in the " Horee Homileticse," the pro- 
 duction of the best skeleton-maker in the world. 
 Yet remember an old piece of advice, — " Nullius 
 addictus in verba magistri." Imitate no one, but 
 be yourself. Your own clothes will fit you best. 
 Imitators are apt to copy defects as well as beauties, 
 and thus make themselves ridiculous ; use your 
 own manner and style, that you may be sincere 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 119 
 
 and natural. If you are industrious you will not 
 hereafter have to learn when you are required to 
 teaeh. Out of the remainder of the day, take six 
 hours for your college exercises; and try to be 
 steady, neat, accurate, and eminent in everything. 
 You will now have spent eight hours in close appli- 
 cation ; never exceed them. You may turn to 
 music, which is a great refreshment of the spirits, 
 — to conversation or letter- writing, or whatever re- 
 quires no effort of mind. Never be out of your 
 room after ten at night, and spend half an hour in 
 devotional exercises before you retire to bed. I 
 shall not repeat what I have said on the subject of 
 prayer, but let me add one caution. You will 
 sometimes have to lament great failures ; do not on 
 such occasions take refuge in loose antinomian no- 
 tions, nor yet give way to recklessness and despond- 
 ency ; if God knows you are honest, and striving 
 in all things to glorify him, though you fall seven 
 times a day he will raise you up again. Never 
 resolve to do nothing because you have not done 
 everything ; nor indeed resolve at all, but cast your 
 troubles on Christ, and set to work again with more 
 diligence, caution, and dependence. 
 
 " I have said nothing of modern literature : you 
 are already pretty well acquainted with it, and if 
 you can find an hour for lighter reading, which does 
 not fatigue you, it may be well to enlarge your 
 present stock ; but not to the neglect of other things ; 
 because in vacations you may profitably spend some 
 time upon the historians and English poets. I would 
 have vou attend, in turn, the public lectures on 
 
120 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 anatomy, chemistry, &c. ; — you will not be able to 
 read in private on these subjects, but you may get 
 a Dfeneral knowledsfc of them, which will both im- 
 prove and amuse you. The divinity lecture I ad- 
 vise you to postpone, till you have finished the 
 course of reading on that subject which I have 
 marked out for you. There is one part of my 
 sketch on which I have not been sufficiently ex- 
 plicit ; I mean the exercise which is indispensably 
 necessary to health. I have scarcely ever had a 
 pupil to whom in this respect I did not seem to be 
 another Cassandra, whose predictions no one would 
 believe. I hope you will be an exception. To read 
 yourself blind, deaf, stupid, and nervous, is really 
 a great folly, and kind of suicide. There have been 
 many sad examples of complete failure amongst 
 students, through neglect of exercise, rather than 
 from over mental exertion. Always take exercise 
 in the best part of the day, and at three periods, — 
 two half-hours by yourself, and two hours with 
 some agreeable companion, with whom the conver- 
 sation may be interesting; kindred pursuits will 
 furnish you with abundant materials. 
 
 " 9. Avoid all wine parties, or if circumstances 
 seem to make an occasional visit in this way neces- 
 sary, firmly adhere to some rule as to quantity. I 
 never took more than two glasses, and this deter- 
 mination saved me much trouble and temptation. 
 Acquaintances formed at these parties are transi. 
 tory, and companions will soon be dispersed, to be 
 heard of no more. A few endeared intimacies are 
 likely to be more durable and valuable. 
 
MATRICULATING AT CAMBRIDGE. 121 
 
 ** 10. The university, which brings together so 
 great a variety of persons, is a good school for the 
 study of character ; avail yourself of it ; by the de- 
 fects of others learn to correct your own, and by 
 their virtues improve yourself. You will seldom 
 find a person who does not excel you in something : 
 lead him to talk on his favorite subject, that yon 
 may profit by his superiority. 
 
 "11. With respect to your vacations, I shall only 
 now throw out one hint ; which is, that these must 
 be equally busy periods, if you aspire to academical 
 honors. You will, indeed, be expected to relax oc- 
 casionally in family parties ; still you must unceas- 
 ingly pursue your object, and attend to little else. 
 Get up your college subjects for the next term ; you 
 cannot otherwise keep pace with the lectures. 
 
 " 12. Whatever you read, always keep in mind 
 the great truths of the Bible ; fact and observation 
 will strengthen and confirm them. 
 
 " 13. Never converse about religion, but in the 
 spirit of religion ; — be earnest, spiritual, and serious ; 
 jokes, and tales, and absurd associations, produce 
 levity of mind, and even hypocrisy ; be cheerful, but 
 not light. 
 
 " 14. You may start at the amount of what I 
 have stated, but I know from experience that I have 
 proposed nothing which may not be achieved by 
 steady perseverance. Throw your whole soul, my 
 jear , into a preparation for a useful, honor- 
 able, and serviceable life, in the most glorious of 
 all employments, the office and work of the min- 
 istry. That God may give you grace, and health, 
 
122 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 and strength, to become a workman that needeth 
 not to be ashamed, is the earnest prayer of 
 
 "Your affectionate and faithful friend." 
 
 I must apologize to the reader for detaining him 
 so long from the more immediate subject of the 
 Family Portraiture. My excuse must be the hope 
 that this letter of my own may fall into the hands 
 of some student of the University, and furnish him 
 with useful hints to regulate his conduct and studies. 
 I am satisfied that my sentiments would be found 
 in unison with my friend's, had he lived to complete 
 his own valuable directions to his son Henry. 
 
 In surveying the variety of circumstances and 
 details connected with Mr. R.'s plan of education, 
 it seems to me that two points may be added with 
 advantage. 
 
 It has often been lamented that children and 
 young people receive so little benefit from public 
 instruction. Mr. Richmond did indeed teach his 
 children to pray and read the scriptures ; he wrote 
 a form of prayer for the use of each of them, until 
 they were able to approach the mercy-seat with the 
 expression of their own thoughts and desires. They 
 had the benefit of his family exercises and conver- 
 sations, and he kept his eye on their behavior at 
 church ; but this is not all that is needful ; they 
 should frequently be examined as to what they 
 hear, and be required to give an account of every 
 sermon ; receiving reproof or commendation as they 
 appear to have been negligent or attentive. 
 
 It is important also to accustom children to sep- 
 arate a part of their pocket money for charitable 
 
ADDITIONAL SUGGESTIONS. 123 
 
 purposes, and to act, in their sympathy with the 
 necessitous, on plan and system. Mr. R. was 
 himself hospitable and benevolent ; he contributed 
 largely from his slender means, to the wants of his 
 poor parishioners, and he inculcated on his family 
 the duty of unremitting attention to distress of 
 every kind. But children should be trained to seek 
 out proper objects, and learn to relieve them from 
 their own means, and by the sacrifice of their own 
 gratifications. What portion of our goods ought to 
 be separated for the poor is not determined in the 
 scriptures ; the only definite rule there laid down, 
 is, '' According as God has prospered him, so let 
 every man give as he is disposed in his heart." 
 Children, as well as grown people, should be allowed 
 opportunity to exercise discretion, and evidence the 
 sincerity of principle : we cannot prescribe any fixed 
 amount, which must vary according to the circum- 
 stances of different persons ; still, however, this labor 
 of love ought to be regulated by some definite prin- 
 ciple. 
 
 From the foregoing detail of Mr. R.'s laborious 
 and conscientious care of his family, it is natural to 
 ask what was the result, Delicacy and propriety 
 forbid me to speak of the living, though I might 
 there appeal to facts which confirm the truth of 
 that gracious promise, " Train up a child in the way 
 in which he should go, and when he is old he shall 
 not depart from it." 
 
 I shall, however, now endeaver to fulfil Mr. R.'s 
 own intentions, by recording the deaths of his chil- 
 dren who died in the faith, and are gone to their 
 rest and peace in Christ Jesus. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 The storm that wrecks the wintry sky 
 
 No more disturbs their deep repose, 
 
 Than summer's evening latest sigh 
 
 That shuts the rose. JMontgomerrj . 
 
 Samuel Nugent Legh, the eldest son of Mr. 
 Richmond, was born at Brading in the Isle of 
 "Wight, June 18, 1798. 
 
 From his birth to the hour of his death he was 
 the child of many prayers to God, for life and sal- 
 vation through a crucified Redeemer. 
 
 *' My responsibilities," said Mr. R., " are greatly 
 increased by the birth of a son, and I have need of 
 wisdom to preserve this loan of the Lord, and train 
 up an immortal soul for heaven." 
 
 The views of a Christian parent concerning his 
 offspring are not bounded by time, nor his hopes and 
 wishes limited to a present provision. Our heavenly 
 Father knoweth our wants. We must seek first 
 the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all 
 other things will be supplied as far as is needful to 
 our welfare. 
 
 The first paper found amongst Mr. R.'s memo- 
 rada relating to his son Nugent, is a letter addressed 
 to the sponsors on the occasion of his infant's recep- 
 tion into the company of believers by the sacrament 
 of baptism. The selection of these parties is often 
 a delicate and a difficult duty to religious parents. 
 
LIFE OF NUGENT RICILMONU. 125 
 
 The usages of society direct our view towards kins- 
 folk and intimate friends, and the practice is natural 
 and proper when such can be found possessing a 
 deep sense of the responsibilities of their engagement. 
 But to be swayed principally by relationship or in- 
 terest in this appointment, is inconsistent with 
 Christian integrity, and is, in fact '^ honoring man 
 more than God," The church supposas sponsors to 
 be persons of real piety, a company of the faithful 
 who agree '' as touching what they shall ask of God 
 in Christ's name" on behalf of the infant They 
 are provided as spiritual trustees to take care that 
 the child be virtuously brought up, and they engage 
 for the fulfilment of conditions, without vdiich, bap- 
 tism, like the Lord's supper, is not available for any 
 benefit. The grace of baptism is not promised to 
 unbelievers, and there are many who are such as 
 to this act, though the term may not in general be 
 applicable to them. The rite is regarded by some 
 merely as a compliance with the forms of religion, 
 and by others as conferring a title to covenant priv- 
 ileges, rather than as communicating any actual 
 benefit. But the church of England, and I may 
 add, all the reformed churches, define this sacra- 
 ment to be an " outward and visible sign of an in- 
 ward and spiritual grace ; ordained by Christ him- 
 self, as a means whereby vv^e receive the same, and 
 a pledge to assure us thereof." 
 
 To maintain that the right admxinistration, inde- 
 pendent of the right reception, of an ordinance, is 
 effectual, would be to sanction the errors of Popery ; 
 and it would be extravagant to assert that all bap- 
 
126 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 tized persons are regenerate, since the fact is pal- 
 pably against sach an assumption. Whether we 
 say with Anninius, that the grace of baptism has 
 been lost, or with John Calvin, nullified^ by the 
 non-fulfilment of engagements ; — whether by the 
 the terms regeneration, renovation, or conversion be 
 meant, the return, the confirmation, or th§ original 
 impartation of a divine influence, (the phrase mat- 
 ters not,) it is most evident that those who do not 
 bring forth the fruits of the Spirit are not " par- 
 takers of an inward and spiritual grace ;" and it 
 becomes the ministers of religion to exhort such per- 
 sons to pray, and seek for that change of nature 
 without which no man can enter into the kingdom 
 of heaven. This view of the subject secures every 
 practical and useful purpose, and it would be more 
 advantageous to men's souls to contend earnestly 
 for the faith once delivered to the saints, than to 
 strive about words to no profit. 
 
 Christian parents and sponsors would do well to 
 consider whether their own ignorance and unbelief, 
 as it respects this solemn ordinance, may not have 
 pro voiced God to withhold the blessing promised "to 
 us and to our children." We know that under the 
 law, the child was cut off who "had broken the 
 covenant," only by the contempt or neglect of cir- 
 cumcision on the part of his sinful parents ; and 
 why may not the hypocrisy of sponsors in the per- 
 formance of a Christian rite be the cause of its 
 almost general inefficacy ? 
 
 It is an argument of no little weight in favor of 
 sponsorhip, that this appendage to Christian baptism 
 
SPONSORSHIP. 127 
 
 has been sanctioned by high antiquity. It is not a 
 novelty of modern times. It universally obtained 
 in the Jewish church, and was continued in the 
 church of Christ to the sixteenth century ; its re- 
 jection, together with that of the baptism of infants, 
 originated with the enthusiasts of Munster. I re- 
 peat the remark, sponsorship was associated with 
 baptism in the Jewish church, and unless in the 
 application of a rite long practised to a new dis- 
 pensation, the concomitants of that rite, " the an- 
 swer of a good conscience," by and for others were 
 repealed, (and we have no proof nor reason to sup- 
 pose they were repealed,) — the disciples, as Jews, 
 could not interpret their commission, but in con- 
 nexion with their early associations and the con- 
 stant practice of their nation. 
 
 If this argument does not so fii-mly establish the 
 use of sponsorship as to invalidate baptism without 
 it, (which neither we nor the foreign churches main- 
 tain,) it is surely sufficient to rescue the custom 
 from the ignorant contempt with which it is too 
 often treated. 
 
 It will be seen by the following letter, that Mr. 
 R.'s sentiments were in unison with what has just 
 been stated, on this interesting appendage to Chris- 
 tian baptism. 
 
 "To THE WORTHY GoD-FATHER AND GoD-MOTHER OF 
 
 Samuel Nugent Legh Richmond. 
 
 " Suffer the anxious feelings of a father to plead 
 an apology for addressing, petitioning, and admon- 
 
128 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 ishing you on a subject so near, so dear to his heart, 
 as the future welfare of an infant child : I need not 
 to remind you, that the institution of sponsors at 
 the baptism of every young child, is a pious pre- 
 caution of the church, intended to provide for, and 
 ensure the religious education of its members. With 
 regard to the natural parents of the child, they are 
 considered as already engaged under such strict 
 bonds, both by nature and religion, to take care of 
 his spiritual welfare, that the church does not sup- 
 pose that she can lay them under any greater ; but 
 still makes a provision, that if, notwithstanding 
 these obhgations, the parents should be negligent, 
 or if it should please God to take them to himself 
 during the infancy of their children, there may yet 
 be others who stand solemnly pledged before God 
 and his church, to see that such infants are not 
 without instruction in consequence of such careless- 
 ness or untimely death of their parents. Hence it 
 follows, that a charge of the most serious and im- 
 portant nature is undertaken by the spiritual pa- 
 rents or sponsors, who are therefore called. Fathers 
 and Mothers in C;Jod ; and in all matters which con- 
 cern the godly instruction, Christian principles, and 
 progress in piety of their God-children, they do most 
 assuredly and unequivocally become answerable for 
 their faith and practice, so far as human vigilance 
 and endeavors are concerned. True it is, if they 
 have the satisfaction of observing that the natural 
 parents zealously, piously, and unremittingly super- 
 intend the Christian education of their infant charge, 
 n:iuch of their own attentions arc rendered unncces- 
 
LETTER TO SPONSORS. 129 
 
 sary ; — still, however, their own responsibility re- 
 mains unaltered by any circumstance, from the 
 hour of baptism to the years of discretion and un- 
 derstanding, and it is incumbent on them to see and 
 know that all things are provided, and nothing omit- 
 ted which is conducive to the soul's health of their 
 children in God. 
 
 *' Having thus stated my ideas of the indispens- 
 able duties of God-fathers and God-mothers in gen- 
 eral, I am naturally led to make the immediate 
 application to the present case. I hope and trust 
 that myself and my dear Mary are too deeply im- 
 pressed with a sense of our duty, (exclusive of pa- 
 rental affection,) to omit anything which may tend 
 to the Christian instruction of our young ones. If, 
 therefore, it should please the Almighty to spare us 
 life and health, I shall look forward with increasing 
 pleasure to the provspect of our child's being so edu- 
 cated, that even those who stand solemnly pledged 
 on the subject, shall have little else to do than to 
 observe, examine, and approve. At least, I pray, 
 that under God's blessing on our endeavors, it may 
 be so ; — but, should our infant be deprived of paren- 
 tal solicitude and attention through death, or de- 
 bility of mind or body, on you, my dear and much 
 respected friends, it will rest to provide all that in 
 your name has been vowed, promised, and professed 
 for him. In such an event, I entreat that no pains 
 may be spared to train up my little infant in the love 
 and fear of God, in the faith of the Redeemer, and 
 grateful love to him, and with a firm reliance on 
 the assistance of the Holy Spirit. Let the Scrip- 
 
130 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 tures, and not the common-place morality of the 
 times, be made the groundwork of his conduct, his 
 principles, and his future hopes; teach him that true 
 charity is the offspring of Christian faith, and that 
 heavenly hope can alone spring from their united 
 dominion over his heart. With such a foundation 
 he will learn to be thanlcful and contented in every 
 condition of life, and under every dispen.sation of 
 providence. Let him be so fortified with the true 
 armor of the Christian, that the shafts of that hor- 
 rid and specious monster infidelity may ever be re- 
 pelled with humble confidence and just indignation. 
 
 '' Teach him to know that although the gospel 
 gives no encouragement, no, even the least hope, 
 to morality without faith, yet that faith without 
 works is dead. 
 
 " That, notwithstanding our most punctual obe- 
 dience to the commandments of tlie law, we are 
 still unprofitable servants ; (the merits of the Sav- 
 iour, not our own merits, rendering us acceptable 
 to God ;) yet that the fruits of the Spirit are to be 
 seen in practical activity in promoting the good of 
 others, as well as in the purification of ourselves. 
 Let this and every other Christian principle be en- 
 grafted on his heart, gradually, and in due progress, 
 with the advancement of his understanding ; so shall 
 your weighty duties be fulfilled, and my heart be 
 at ease. 
 
 " Should the boy's life and my own be spared, "it 
 will be my delight to endeavor to make him what 
 I consider the first of characters, — a real Christian. 
 
 " With respect to all other parts of education, it 
 
REMARKS ON THE MINISTRY. 131 
 
 is foreign to the purpose of this address ; which is 
 solely made on the subject of the baptismal vow, 
 accompanied by a fond father's comments, explana- 
 tions and wishes. My present fears are not lest 
 he should be poor and unlearned in what the world 
 calls wisdom and accomplish ixient ; all must pros- 
 per in the end, if he be but rich in good works, and 
 wise unto salvation. I conclude, therefore, with a 
 blessing upon you all ; and if this epistle be of a 
 more serious (and to you I will not add tedious) 
 description than you are accustomed to peruse, the 
 best apology to be made for it is, that it comes 
 from a parish priest, an affectionate father, and 
 " Your faithful brother-in-law and nephew, 
 
 It was Mr. R.'s earnest desire, that his first-born 
 child should be a minister of the Lord, and a ser- 
 vant of the sanctuary ; his son's course of education 
 was conducted with this view, both while he con- 
 tinued at Brading, and on his subsequent removal 
 to Turvey. 
 
 There was nothing censurable in Mr. R.'s wishes 
 for his son's introduction to the ministry ; but con- 
 sidering the peculiar character and requirements of 
 a minister of the gospel, it may be doubted whether 
 it would not be more consistent that the designation 
 of a younof person to that sacred profession, should 
 follow, rather than precede, a discovery of fitness 
 for it. lam not here speaking of the awful prof- 
 anation of making a boy a clergyman, because he 
 shows an incapacity for other situations, or with a 
 
132 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 view to some worldly advancement, or for the sake 
 of literary respectability and enjoyment ; such mo- 
 tives and practices cannot be too strongly depre- 
 cated : is it not to bring the lame, and the blind 
 into the temple, and to oiler money for the gift of 
 God? in such, God can have no pleasure, neither 
 will He accept an offering at their hand. Mai. i. 2, 
 12. But I am adverting to an error, not uncom- 
 mon even among religious parents, of selecting the 
 future occupation of the ministry for their children 
 on the general grounds of correct conduct and 
 amiable dispositions. God has taken into his own 
 hands the work of the sanctuary ; when He calls 
 and separates by his Spirit, we may co-operate with 
 His purposes, and supply materials and tools for 
 His workmen ; but it is seldom desirable to antici- 
 pate the divine will on this head, or forget that there 
 must be, not only a real conversion of the heart to 
 God, but a peculiar aptness for the work, to justify 
 an entrance in the sacred callin"-. 
 
 Such was Mr. R.'s judgment in after life ; and 
 his tender mind sometimes reverted to his disap- 
 pointment in poor Nugent's delinquencies, as a re- 
 buke for his presumption. 
 
 It appears that Mr. R. early adopted the practice 
 of corresponding with his family ; and I present to 
 the reader a letter to Nugent, as a pleasing speci- 
 men of his happy manner of adressing his children. 
 
 " My dear little boy, 
 
 " You cannot think how glad I was to see your 
 letter ; so glad that it made me weep : if you knew 
 
LETTER TO NUGEPs'T. 133 
 
 how dearly I love you, 1 am sure you would dearly 
 love me ; and if you knew how dearly God loves 
 you, you would love Him also. Never forget God, 
 for he is always thinking about you ; do you not 
 see hovv" good he is to you, in giving you a papa 
 and mamma, and sisters, and friends, and a house 
 to live in, and food, and so many other good things. 
 
 "I preached a sermon last Sunday to some hun- 
 dreds of little children, and you can hardly think 
 how well they behaved, and how silently and closely 
 they attended to what they heard. Many of them 
 when they returned home, wrote down what they 
 heard from me at cliurch : when will you do so, my 
 dear Nugent ? I hope you get your lesson well for 
 
 Mr. D ; how kind he is to teach you ! I hope 
 
 you pray for me every day ; I often pray for you, 
 and God will hear both you and me, if we pray 
 with our whole hearts. When you have read this 
 letter, you must go and kiss M. and F. and H. and 
 tell them I bid you do so for me, because I am far 
 away, and cannot give them myself a proof of my 
 affection for them. 
 
 " My Nugent, you are the eldest ; if you are a 
 good child, they may follow your example, and if 
 you are a bad boy, it will teach them to be sinful ; 
 and that will make God very angry, and me very 
 unhappy. You are now every day growing older, 
 and you ought to grow vfiser and better, and then 
 you will be a comfort to us all, and I shall rejoice 
 and praise. I wish you to-morrow morning to read 
 the 10th chapter of St. Mark, and you will see how 
 Jesus Christ loved little children, and how he took 
 
134 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 them np in his arms and blessed them. I hope he 
 will bless you, and then you will go to Heaven 
 when you die ; but without a blessing from Christ 
 you never can go there. I trust I shall see you 
 again soon. You must pray to God to bring me 
 back in health and safety. 1 have written to you 
 as long a letter as perhaps you will like to read : 
 one thing only I will add, that 
 
 " I am your true loving papa, 
 
 "L. R." 
 
 For some years Nugent was educated at home ; 
 being seldom absent from his father's eye : com- 
 panions he had none, for Mr. R. was afraid of 
 bringing his son in contact with any associations 
 out of his own family. It may be doubted how far 
 it was wise to confine a boy to his own resources 
 for amusement ; for at this time Mr. R. had not 
 provided the philosophical apparatus, by which he 
 afterwards supplied his children with full employ- 
 ment in their leisure hours : certainly the future 
 transition from these restraints to the almost un- 
 bounded freedom of association at school, proved 
 injurious to Nugent. 
 
 As Mr. R.'s public engagements increased, he 
 found it necessarry to remove his son to other super- 
 intendence ; and he placed him under the care of 
 
 : in this situation Nugent attached himself to 
 
 a companion of bad principles and incorrect con- 
 duct, who in the end succeeded in perverting the 
 victim of his confidence. It became necessary to 
 remove the bad example from the family, and at 
 
NUpENT SENT TO SEA, 135 
 
 last, though with great reluctance and bitter dis- 
 appointment, Mr. R. consented to the advice of his 
 friends, and placed his son in a merchant vessel. 
 All hopes of the ministry were abandoned ; and 
 Nsigent, now a wanderer in the wide world, had to 
 make his own way in life. Many affecting circum- 
 stances relating to this exile from his father's house, 
 have been already detailed in Mr. R.'s own memoirs, 
 and I am obliged to forego their introduction in the 
 present narrative. 
 
 The repetition of such details, are not, however, 
 essential to my purpose ; which is not so much to 
 gratify curiosity, as to show the great advantage of 
 a religious education, amidst the most discouraging 
 and distressing disappointments ; and that the prom- 
 ises of eventual success, under all the oppositions 
 of a fallen nature, and the worst temptations to evil, 
 will ultimately reward the faithful and conscien- 
 tious discharge of our duty towards our children. 
 
 Mr. R. gave his son, on his departure from this 
 country, a Bible, and a paper of admonitions and 
 instructions for his conduct. Amidst all his irregu- 
 larities, Nugent discovered a grateful and affection- 
 ate temper. His errors were evidently those of a 
 thoughtless and yielding disposition, rather than of 
 a deep-rooted and vicious propensity : he sincerely 
 loved his father, and he preserved with a kind of 
 religious veneration, these testimonies of regard ; 
 never losing them, though twice shipwrecked, and 
 though all the other little property that he had re- 
 alized was then swept away. 
 
 He was evidently deeply impressed by his parents' 
 
136 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 bright example, and he kept up a regular cjoiespond- 
 ence with them. Mr. R.'s letters are lost; but some 
 extracts from those of his son will serve stronglv to 
 illustrate the good effects of past instructions. It 
 never should be forgotten that there is a moral in- 
 fluence in Christian principles, which keeps evil 
 within certain bounds, even when those principles 
 have not penetrated the heart ; and bad as uncon- 
 verted persons often appear, amidst all the pains 
 taken with them, they would probably be much 
 worse without the unseen restraint which thus op- 
 erates within them. 
 
 A lodgment of truth once made in the mind, 
 cannot afterwards be wholly eradicated. Conviction 
 often returns, and at last, as in the present instance, 
 produces a saving change of heart and life. Nugent 
 was not long on the mighty deep before he acknowl- 
 edged the propriety of his removal from home, and 
 he began deeply to repent of the follies which ren- 
 dered it necessary. 
 
 '' My dear Father and Mother, 
 
 "I am now, as it may be said, at the other end 
 of the world, but still I often think of you and Tur- 
 vey ; I often reflect on my past conduct, and bitterly 
 bewail my folly ; if I had not done what I ought 
 not to have done, I might now be resting comfort- 
 ably under your roof, instead of having to bear very 
 great hardships by night and by day : but I will 
 not complain of my chastisement, and have indeed 
 far greater comforts than I deserve. 
 
 " Papa, I am far away, but I often think of you, 
 
LEAVES THE SHIP. 137 
 
 and of my dear mother, to whom I have occasioned 
 bitter sorrows. Alas I I fear my offences can never 
 be forgiven. 
 
 '' I am satisfied you acted wisely in sending me 
 from home, sweet home I -The maxims and rules 
 you gave me, I cherish and keep by me. 
 
 " Oh ! how I look back on the hopes and fears, 
 alarms and anxieties of my dear parents ; if God 
 permits me ever to see them again, I hope it w411 
 be under different circumstances and feelings. May 
 He preserve me amidst the winds and waves. 
 '^ I am still your affectionate son, 
 
 "N. R." 
 
 There was somethino- so ingenuous and relentins: 
 
 in this his first letter, that Mr. R. anticipated the 
 
 return of his son from the voyage with all that 
 
 strength of affection which issued from his loving, 
 
 * tender heart on all occasions. He lonsred to em- 
 
 a 
 
 brace the poor wanderer, and mingle his tears with 
 those of his child, saying: " This my son was dead 
 and is alive again, was lost and is found :" but these 
 fond hopes were disappointed. Nugent left the ves- 
 sel in which he sailed, in opposition to the remon- 
 stances of the Captain, to whom he was entrusted 
 with du-ections to bring him back to England. Mr. 
 R. had only intended to try the effect of absence 
 and employment, in reclaiming his son, and not to 
 fix him forever in the perilous occupation of a sea- 
 faring life. The Arniston proceeded on her voyage 
 without him, and he had soon reason to regret his 
 indiscretion (for such it was, though God meant it 
 
138 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 for good), when he found himself cast on the world 
 without means of livelihood, without friends, or even 
 an acquaintance who could advise and serve him : 
 a youth of only seventeen years of age, and separa- 
 ted from all who felt any interest in his welfare. 
 In this desolate and almost hopeless state, he ad- 
 dressed the following letter to the senior chaplain 
 of Ceylon. 
 
 " Reverend Sir, 
 
 " There are many occasions in life when it is 
 easier to write than to speak, particularly when we 
 are obliged to speak of ourselves. Your known 
 condescension and Ivindness encourages me to hope 
 you will pardon my present intrusion. 
 
 " It is proper I should aoknowledge that my own 
 thoughtlessness and inconsiderate conduct, and a 
 neglect of the instructions of an excellent father, 
 have been the cause of my present misfortunes. I* 
 ran away from school, and spent my time in dissi- 
 pation with the young farmers of my neighborhood ; 
 which gave my poor father great uneasiness and 
 many a miserable hour ; and finding me unwilling 
 to settle to any useful employment, he sent me to 
 sea as a last resource, in hopes that time and re- 
 flection, and experience of the world, might change 
 my habits, and lead me to a proper sense of my 
 errors. With the reluctant consent of both my 
 parents, I came out in the Arniston, under the 
 charge of Captain Simpson, whose uniform kindness 
 to me I gratefully remember. He refused to give 
 jne permission to stay in India, and I withdrew 
 
OCCURRENCES IN INDIA. 139 
 
 from his ship with a view to profit by the opportu- 
 nity, and to see Calcutta and other parts and places 
 before I returned to England. In this expectation 
 I have been disappointed, and knowing the dislike 
 of my parents to my present occupation, I have 
 abandoned further thoughts of continuing in it, at 
 least till I can learn their pleasure as to my future 
 destiny. I humbly throw myself on your kindness, 
 and entreat you to take me under your protection 
 and guidance : for which T hope to testify the grati- 
 tude of my heart by conducting myself with dili- 
 gence and propriety. I have the honor to remain, 
 with the greatest respect, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 ''N. R." 
 
 Self-will is a principal source of mischief to 
 young people ; submission and deference to age 
 and experience, a prime virtue to be cultivated by 
 them. To follow his own inclination and leave the 
 Arniston, was a culpable thoughtlessness ; nor can 
 it be justified or excused, though the consequences 
 were advantageous. There is, however, much to 
 approve in Nugent's frank and open avowal of his 
 errors ; he might have concealed them ; a more 
 subtle mind would have been tempted to do so ; 
 but simplicity is always the best poUcy ; it disarms 
 hostility, and disposes men to overlook the past, 
 by the security which seems to be given of future 
 good conduct; it relieves the parties from a train 
 of evils and embarrassments, and temptations to 
 new offences, which will meet them at every step. 
 
140 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 To an honorable mind it is ever painful to appear 
 in false colors : the fear of disclosure and conse- 
 quent loss, perhaps, of our friends, will always fill 
 us with restlessness and apprehension. An oQender 
 had better trust God with his case, than turn for 
 deliverance to the wretched expedients which his 
 own pride and folly might suggest. This appeal 
 to a stranger, " I have been an otlendiiig wanderer, 
 and therefore take me under your protection," may 
 seem to some to be little consistent with prudence ; 
 but Nugent could not have acted more wisely, if 
 his letter had been written under the influence of 
 selfish calculation, instead of having been, as it ap- 
 pears to me, the result of integrity. 
 
 It is also evident, from the last two letters, that 
 Mr. Richmond's care and instructions were not even 
 now without their use: there was clearly an in- 
 fluence in operation, and a turning to right princi- 
 ples and feelings on the part of Nugent, which, if 
 too weak to stem the torrent of natural corruption, 
 was doing much to control evil, and prepare his 
 mind for its subjugation. Indeed, the full eflect of 
 religious education is seldom seen, until a young 
 person has had an opportunity of making an exper- 
 iment on the principles which he has been taught : 
 however pleasing the piety of children, it can never 
 be relied on : it must first stand the test of solitary 
 exposure to adverse circumstances. The family is 
 the nursery of tender plants, of whoso growth and 
 fruit we can determine nothing till they are trans- 
 planted into other soils; but in all cases a consci- 
 entious and diligent cultivation of a child's mind, 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 141 
 
 accompanied by a consistent example, — without 
 which instruction too often injures rather than im- 
 proves, — will be like the seed sown, which Jiiay not 
 appear for a season, but will in the end spring up 
 and reward our labor. 
 
 I have already noticed that Mr. R. constantly 
 corresponded with his son : he did more, — Nugent 
 was in his daily thoughts, and he earnestly and 
 continually carried him to a throne of grace ; and I 
 cannot but ascribe to the faith and prayer of the 
 affectionate parent, the remarkable escape of the 
 child. The Arniston, having sailed without him, 
 was wrecked near Cape Lagullus, with the loss of 
 the whole crevr. Three hundred and fifty persons 
 perished, and thus Nugent's error was overruled by 
 a gracious God to the preservation of his life. Such 
 interpositions of providence may be treated with 
 indifference and contempt by men of the world. 
 Mr. R. bowed the knee, and thankfully praised God," 
 *' I have prayed to Thee, O Father, in secret, and 
 Thou hast rewarded me openly." 
 
 Soon after Nugent left the Arniston, he obtained 
 the situation of third officer in the brig Kandian. 
 Of this appointment he informed his father, adding, 
 
 " And now, my dear parents, while you are living 
 quietly at home, I am tossed about the stormy ocean 
 in all weathers, and never knowing that I am safe 
 a moment. I hope Wilberforce will take warning 
 from my sad wanderings, or he will never be happy ; 
 receive my kind love, dear father and mother ; the 
 same to my brothers and sisters. I hope God will 
 
142 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 take care of me, forgive and convert me ; He is the 
 best friend ; do not cease to pray for me, and re- 
 member me still, for I am 
 
 " Yom' affectionate Son, 
 
 ''N. R." 
 
 From some unknown cause, the letters from 
 England, though sent at regular periods, did not 
 reach their destination ; and Nugent suffered much 
 anxiety at not hearing from his family : he writes, 
 
 " Ever dear and affectionate Parents, 
 
 '• ^ * ^ It is now two years since I left 
 England, and I have neither heard from nor of you, 
 except once from a missionary, who told me he had 
 seen you in Yorkshire a few months after I sailed, 
 and that you were quite well. He is a very good 
 man, and I have been to hear him several times. 
 
 I have also attended Mr. , another missionary, 
 
 and a valuable servant of God ; indeed they all ap- 
 pear to be of one heart and one spirit. Would to 
 
 God I were like them ! Mr. has been very 
 
 kind to me ; but he is a bad man, and altogether 
 unfit to be a clergyman. I shall not mention his 
 faults for it seems ungrateful to dwell on a benefac- 
 tor's misconduct, or indeed on the misconduct of 
 any one. I have been greatly distressed at hearing 
 nothing of my poor mother, who has shed so many 
 tears on my account, nor of my dear brothers and 
 sisters, though I have written so many letters to 
 them. 
 
 " So the Arniston was lost I Oh ! merciful escape ! 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 143 
 
 " I am sorry to say, my new captain is a wild, 
 extravagant, and dissipated man, always giving 
 balls and routs on board or on shore. *- # ^ ^ 
 Dancing and singing to a late hour is a sad way of 
 spending Saturday night. It shocks me to say, 
 my dear father, I have only been to church about 
 twelve times since I left England ; indeed, sailors 
 scarcely know what church is, except on board men 
 of war, where there is a chaplain ; nevertheless, if 
 we cannot go to church, we seldom work on a Sun- 
 day as on a week-day ; so that I have time to read 
 the Bible and pray. You gave me a Bible when I 
 left you, and I have it still, and hope always to 
 have it. O that I knew how to make a right use 
 of it. Be assured, my dear father, I neither dance 
 nor gamble ; although there is much of both here, 
 and I should please more if I did as others ; I thank 
 God I know not how to do either, and I am sure I 
 have no wish to be wise in such things. I have 
 encountered many unpleasant remarks on this ac- 
 count. Pray for me, pray for your poor Nugent ; 
 think when you are in bed and by your fire-side, I 
 am toiling by day and watching by night, tossed 
 about in gales of wind, scared by storms of thunder, 
 lightning, and rain, ignorant of my fate for a single 
 hour. Oh ! a sailor's life is wicked, miserable, and 
 deplorable ; but this is all the fruit of my sin, and 
 I justly deserve my chastisement. Farewell — that 
 you may long live, and my mother, and my sisters, 
 and my brothers, to enjoy every blessing, temporal 
 and eternal, is the ardent wish 
 
 "Of your affectionate son, N. R." 
 
144 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 A few months after, be wrote again to bis motber : 
 
 " My dearest and most affectionate Mother, 
 
 " I have just heard that the ship Alexander is 
 arrived at Columbo, by which I hope to receive 
 letters from home. I am on the other side of Cey- 
 lon, and I fear it may be a fortnight or three weeks 
 before I can get them here, and we expect to sail 
 before that time. I am all mieasiness ; and still 
 more anxious when I think what will be said in 
 them. Sometimes I am pleased, then I am grieved 
 and fear ; uncertain of their contents, still I long to 
 read them. Thanks to an all-merciful God, I have 
 succeeded well in India, esjjecially when I consider 
 I had no friend to guide me ; but my success gives 
 me little satisfaction, when 1 reflect on the wounded 
 feelings of an aftectionate mother. I now, indeed, 
 see and feel my folly ; if I had taken yonr advice, I 
 should never have suH'ered so many hardships, but 
 this is not my greatest trial, my sins uill all rise up 
 against me in the hour of de;\th and at the day of 
 judgment. Oh ! that I could feel this consideration 
 as I ought ; my insensibility distresses me. May 
 the Lord help me. 
 
 " Nov. 2. No letter. I am full of uneasiness and 
 anxiety. This is Sunday and the vessel is under 
 my command. My superior officers are gone on 
 shore, I fear for no good, they think very little of 
 worship, officers or men. The men are great gam- 
 blers. I went among them this evening, and found 
 them at hazard : I threw the dice overboard, though 
 probably my life is in danger for what 1 have done, 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 145 
 
 for the dice belonged to a Spaniard, who thinks 
 nothing of using his stiletto; but I have done what 
 I considered my duty, and I must trust God with 
 the consequences. The Portuguese sailors when 
 provoked are as revengeful as the Spaniards : the 
 other night I nearly lost my life from a party of 
 them ; there had been a quarrel between some Por- 
 tuguese and English sailors ; I was walking alone 
 on shore, when fifteen of the former came up and 
 asked me to what nation I belonged, and on my 
 replying, 'To the English,' they lifted up their 
 cudgels to level me with the ground. I raised my 
 arms to defend my head, when they discovered my 
 uniform and buttons, and cried out ' Don't strike 
 him,' for they perceived I was not a co[nmon sailor, 
 or I certainl}^ should have been killed on the spot. 
 This was another wonderful escape. God is very 
 good to me, and I long to mal:e a suitable return to 
 him. 
 
 "Nov. 4. This day my letters are arrived, but 
 thev are a series of sorrows to me. When I read 
 the first, how I felt ! I could scarcely hold it in my 
 hand : I subbed and wept. Oh I my poor mother, 
 I have occasioned your illness and endangered your 
 life. I do not know how to go on writing; I can- 
 not put two words comfortably together. I know, 
 my dear mother, you prayed for me in that trying 
 hour. * '^' * ^' ^ * 
 
 " Mr. B , who is returning to Europe, has 
 
 behaved very kindly to me ever since I first knew 
 him, which is now more than a year ; he will tell 
 you all about me. 1 am conscious of not being 
 
 7 
 
146 FAMILY PORTRAFTURK. 
 
 what you would wish me to be, but I hope by God^s 
 grace to be made altogether such as you desire. I 
 know you pray for me continually, and I trust that 
 God will change my heart before T die. Farewell, 
 my dear mother, I shall write whenever opportu- 
 nity serves; do you write constantly to me. Re- 
 member me most kindly to my father, brothers, and 
 sisters. That they may long live in the enjoyment 
 of every blessing, is the earnest prayer for them all of 
 *' Your affectionate N." 
 
 I have ever remq.rked that no case is hopeless 
 where there is strong affection. An unimpassioned 
 soul is seldom touched by any tiling beyond the 
 range of its own selfish gratifications, and usually 
 presents a stubborn resistance to considerations 
 which affect only or chiefly the welfare of others ; 
 but an affectionate temper, amidst many sinful 
 wanderings, is still capable of impression. 
 
 The letters of Nugent discover a very feeling 
 and grateful spirit, a sense of obligation, and a self- 
 condemnation for past misconduct. They display a 
 conflict between duty and irregular inclination, and, 
 in some instances, a firmness of principle far above 
 mere nature. They could not fail to inspire a 
 pleasing hope, that though an enemy had sown 
 tares in the field, the wheat \vould ultimately over- 
 top them and grow to maturity. Mr. Richmond's 
 heart was full of joy, and his faith leaned on the 
 promises of God with firmer dependence ; he was 
 encouraged to more vigorous perseverance in inter- 
 ceding for his much loved child ; he had carried his 
 
TESTIMONY OF A AIISSIONARY. 147 
 
 sorrows to God, and lie now praised him for his 
 faithfuhiess in alleviating them. About this time 
 the following letter was received from a mfssionary 
 at Columbo, which bears an honorable testimony 
 to Nugent's improved oondact. It will be read 
 with interest by those who can sympathize with a 
 father's sufferings, or understand the joy which wel- 
 comes a returning penitent. 
 
 " Dear and Reverend Sir, 
 
 " I have no doubt you will excuse the liberty a 
 stranger takes, who knows you only by name, in 
 writing to you a few lines, which cannot fail to in- 
 terest both you and your family. I have a father's 
 heart, and know well the feelings with which you 
 will receive the information I send you respecting 
 Mr. Nugent Richmond, your once disobedient son. 
 It would be most pleasing to me to say that he is a 
 humble penitent, seeking life and salvation through 
 the boundless merits of a crucified Redeemer ; but 
 though I fear to go thus far, I am warranted to bear 
 testimony to a real change in him in many respects. 
 He is become quite steady in his conduct, and is 
 very attentive to the duties of his profession, and 
 you have not the least cause for anxiety with re- 
 gard to his temporal welfare ; nor is he by any means 
 careless and unconcerned about the things which 
 make for his eternal peace. He is much more 
 anxious than he used to be for religious society, and 
 often attends our evening meetings. This morning 
 he breakfasted with us, and I endeavored to supply 
 your place in my poor way, by interrogating him 
 
148 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 in the most serious manner, respecting the state of 
 his soul ; and when I found him unprepared to an- 
 swer me in the manner I wished, I urged his still 
 closer attention to religion, by motives addressed to 
 his hopes and fears. I read to him the fifty-first 
 Psalm, and he listened with deep interest, and 
 seemed to feel every word. I prayed for him in my 
 family worship, and enjoyed a more than usual free- 
 dom in spreading his case before tlie Lord. When we 
 arose from our knees, I believe there were few dry 
 eyes. On the whole, I think we have reason to hope 
 the best respecting your son ; I advised him to read 
 some passages in the Bible every day, with special 
 application to his own case, and to turn it into 
 prayer for himself I have heard many acknowledge, 
 that they have received great benefit in praying in 
 God's own Avords. May poor Nugent be another 
 instance. I cannot close the hasty letter, without 
 informing you of the good effect of the Dairyman's 
 Daughter in Ceylon. A person of whose conver- 
 sion I do not doubt, and who has joined our little 
 church, ascribes his change of heart to God and you. 
 
 "Begging you will read with candor what I have 
 written with difficulty, 
 
 " I am, with respectful and affectionate regard, 
 "Yours, J. C." 
 
 The caution with which this correspondent speaks 
 of conversion, renders his testimony the more valu- 
 able ; yet it appears to me very evident, that Nu- 
 gent was making progress towards a complete sur- 
 render of his heart to God, and that his mind was 
 
HIS RELIGIOUS STATE. 149 
 
 at this time under the influence of real principle. 
 He might be less acquainted than others with ex- 
 perimental religion, and have much to learn as to 
 the cause of his wanderings, and the entire corrup- 
 tion of his heart ; defects of this kind he laments 
 himself, and in all his letters describes his case 
 rather as that of one who seeks and longs to be a 
 true convert, than of one who has attained a saving 
 change ; still, in a long series of correspondence 
 before me, I remark in him a gradual, and very- 
 real approximation to all that is correct in opinion 
 and conduct ; he never reflects on any one but him- 
 self ; he labors to guard his brothers against sin, by 
 the knowledge of its effects and consequences in 
 his own history ; he bears an affectionate testimony 
 to the conscientious consistency of his parents ; he 
 wishes for an opportunity to make some suitable 
 returns for their kindness ; he connects every event 
 with the disposition of divine providence ; he secures 
 the respect and countenance of every one by his 
 steady and correct conduct; he courts the society 
 of good people ; he firmly resists evil, though at- 
 tended with danger to himself, and on all occasions 
 expresses himself with so much atiection and vene- 
 ration for true religion, as on the ^vhole satisfies my 
 own mind, that even if he had now been removed 
 from the world, his family would have had no rea- 
 son to have sorrowed as those without hope. There 
 is not, however, in these letters such a degree of 
 interest to persons unacquainted with him, as to 
 warrant their introduction. A sufficient number 
 relating to this period are already before the reader, 
 8 
 
150 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 to show the value of early instruction under every 
 circumstance. 
 
 The young sailor quitted the Kenyon, which was 
 sold by the government, and went on board the 
 Oracabessa, from which vessel he wrote to his father 
 the following aflecting account of the state of sla- 
 very at the Mauritius ; — a letter full of correct feel- 
 ing, and still more satisfactory evidence of right 
 conduct. 
 
 '' My dear Father, 
 
 ''We are on the point of sailing for the Mauri- 
 tius. * * * I know that you will be pleased 
 to hear that I am taking out some Bibles, Testa- 
 ments, and Tracts in different languages, which 
 
 were sent to me by my friend Lieutenant B , 
 
 to distribute and try what good I could do there. 
 How is it there are no missionaries at the Mauri- 
 tius ? an island containing thirty thousand souls; 
 ten thousand whites, and twenty thousand men of 
 color. I can safely assure you there is no part of 
 the world where the British flag is flying, which is 
 half so ignorant, or in such a dreadful state of dark- 
 ness : there is, indeed, scarcely any religion at all 
 there ; what there is, is Roman Catholic ; it is true 
 there is an English church, and perhaps from twenty 
 to thirty persons in it once a day, and the clergy- 
 man ; * * *^ bQt the island from one end 
 to the other, exhibits every species of vice, without 
 control or check of any kind. Slavery, as you 
 know, is the cause of everything that is bad : never 
 were its frightful effects more clearly shown than 
 
HIS VIEWS OiN THE SLAVE TRADE. 151 
 
 in this place ; they are far worse than even in our 
 West India plantations. I have been an eye-wit- 
 ness to scenes altogether shocking to humanity ; 
 the heaviest punishments are inflicted for faults, 
 which in England would receive a trifling fine, or 
 a short imprisonment. Masters have chopped off 
 the ears of their slaves, and in some instances, have 
 literally starved them to death. Neither is the 
 slave-trade extinct in this part of the world, but is 
 still carried on to a great extent. There may be a 
 stricter watch against the slave vessels, but never- 
 theless they are loaded every month, and I have 
 known the slaves to have been taken into harbor in 
 empty water casks to elude detection. 
 
 '' Now, my father, take your atlas and look at 
 the position of Mauritius, Bambour, and Madagas- 
 car, with the African main. Slaves are to be pro- 
 cured at either of the last places for about thirty 
 dollars a-liead. If taken to Bourbon, or the Mau- 
 ritius, they fetch from three to four hundred dol- 
 lars. Is not this an irresistible temptation to a 
 slave-trader, when he is sure of his price if he can 
 escape the vigilance of the naval officers. If you 
 look at the position of these places, you may judge 
 of the ease of carrying on this traffic, when I tell 
 you that there is only one man of war in the har- 
 bor of Port Louis to search vessels which come in ; 
 and no one cruising about this coast, though it is 
 well known that there are five Spanish ships, two 
 Portuguese, and one English, employed in the trade. 
 One of these vessels was lately wrecked there : of 
 the crew, one sailor only was saved, who is now on 
 
152 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 board our ship. He has frequently conversed with 
 me, and I am persuaded his information is correct. 
 
 *' Now can nothing be done to restrain the cruel 
 treatment of these poor creatures ? On landing at 
 Port Louis, you would see one of them in irons, 
 and as you advanced, another flogged most unmer- 
 cifully, without distinction of sex, and in general 
 no clothing allowed ; some kind-hearted masters 
 give a dollar a year for clothes. There is, I believe, 
 a code of laws, but they are never enforced. I have 
 myself seen slaves unable to stand, from the sever- 
 ity of their punishment; thirty in a rov/, on whose 
 backs g-ashes, not lashes, might be observed ; pieces 
 fairly cut out, and in some instances an eye forced 
 out, and there is no redress : nor are they fed prop- 
 erly. I had forty-five of them working under me, 
 for whom their owner received a dollar a day per 
 head : they worked from sun-rise to sun-set, and 
 what was their food ? For breakfast a cake, made 
 of a kind of potato, weighing three ounces : for din- 
 ner half a pound of boiled rice, with one spoonful of 
 assinge, or an equal quantity of horse-beans ; for 
 supper the same as at breakfcist, with a little water 
 to drink. 
 
 I will tell you an instance which I laiow to be true, 
 amidst many others which I have heard from men 
 of veracity. A woman flogged her own sister, who 
 was unfortunately her slave also, till she fainted. 
 She then twisted her arms till the poor creature 
 nearly expired. She then let her recover, and singed 
 her flesh with a hot iron • -^ ^ ^^ * 
 
 the sufferer never complained ; indeed if she had, it 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 
 
 1.58 
 
 would have been worse for her in the end ; the truth 
 is, there is a combination among the people of the 
 whole island to resist the law, and support each other 
 in their acts of oppression. My object in mention- 
 ing these things to you is that you should first make 
 inquiry to satisfy yourself of the truth of the facts, 
 and then try to get something done for these 
 wretched beings. If such cruelties be passed by 
 with indifference in the harbor, what unobserved 
 abominations may be expected in the interior of the 
 island I 
 
 ''It is said that the climate requires no clothing, 
 but this is false : the nights are very cold, and the 
 season sometimes severe. I have even slept under 
 several blankets, and been cold. How many poor 
 souls have not one ! ^ * =^ * ^ 
 
 '' Kindest love to all, and 
 
 "Believe me, my dear Father, 
 
 '' Your affectionate Son, 
 
 "N. R." 
 
 From the Bay of All-Saints, he touches again on 
 this horrid traffic : — " I have made many observa- 
 tions on the country and people here, and particu- 
 larly on the slave-trade ; all of which will confirm 
 what I have already told you respecting it. This 
 port is full of slave ships, and I am lying close to 
 one which has just landed seven hundred, men, wo- 
 men, and children. What a pity this nation should 
 persist in this infamous traffic ! I admit the slaves 
 are better used than in some other places, but still 
 
154 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 they are exposed to the caprices and unrestrained 
 passions of corrupt nature. 
 
 " I have been distributing tracts and Bibles, which 
 some have rejected with scorn, and others received 
 with thanks. I assure you I have spent more time 
 in this Avay, than in attending to my worldly interest, 
 and so I ought : for I am indebted to Him for all 
 my mercies, in whose cause I am so laboring ; and 
 if only one Bible finds its way to the heart, what 
 shall I think of my task in eternity ! Wherever I 
 go I will labor faithfully in this good work, to the 
 utmost of my power, and particularly in the Isle of 
 France, for that island is grievously neglected as to 
 all spiritual instruction. 
 
 " I have conversed with two Catholic priests. 
 They appear to me pious men, though they refuse to 
 sanction the distribution of the scriptures among the 
 laity. I confess I am not able to argue with them." 
 
 Upon the chief subjects of these letters, we may 
 again remark the happy recollections of his early 
 years. From his excellent father he had imbibed 
 an aversion to an iniquitous traliic, and a sense of 
 its wretched effects on the well-being, both of the 
 oppressor and the oppressed ; from him he had learnt 
 also to value the Holy Scriptures as God's best gift 
 to a ruined world, and had received associations of 
 sentiment and affection which no subsequent wan- 
 derings of sinful inclination, no exposure to the 
 temptations of scenes full of danger, and abounding 
 with iniquity, could ever obliterate. The principles 
 of his education restrained him in his worst moments, 
 and they obtained a permanent ascendancy with the 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 155 
 
 return of better feelings produced by the salutary 
 correction of his misfortunes. In his case, the ex- 
 periment of a voyage was successful, though it may 
 be doubted whether in general any other result can 
 reasonably be expected from it than a confirmation 
 of a young man's evil propensities. It seemed good 
 to a wise and gracious God to exercise this mis- 
 guided, but affectionate youth, with a succession of 
 disappointments, mingled with merciful preserva- 
 tions, and to train him in the school of adversity, to 
 show the good effect of a pious father's instructions, 
 and the rich boon of a father's blessing and prayers. 
 
 His shipwrecks — his losses — -and his severe trial 
 in the death of an amiable young woman to whom 
 he was engaged in marriage, have been detailed by 
 another hand ; and I have only to add a few extracts 
 from numerous letters in my possession, illustrative 
 of his progress in unfeigned piety. 
 
 ''The happiest day I could see in this world, 
 would be that on which I might mingle myself once 
 more with you all. Oh ! with what joy should I 
 return to you, my dear father, and my dear mother, 
 to receive your forgiveness and welcome home 
 again. God only knows whether we shall ever 
 meet on this side eternity ; there seem to be more 
 difficulties and obstacles in my way every year. 
 
 " The next happy day w^ould be when the Lord, 
 who has been ever kind and merciful to me, should 
 entirely wean me from this wicked world and its 
 temptations ; then should I be as happy as I wish 
 to be." 
 
 "My Bible, which is everything, is the only 
 
156 FAIMILY PORTRAITURE. , 
 
 means of grace I have : by reading it, with some 
 other good books, tracts, and sermons, I hope to 
 keep close to the fear of God. 
 
 " There are two clergyiTien here, but, alas I — I 
 must say no evil, when I can say no good of them. 
 I wish some missionaries, truly pious men, were 
 sent out to us ; I assure you we have great need 
 of spiritual instructors. A good man preached in a 
 brig close to us yesterday ; and I hope next Sunday 
 to hoist the flag of Zion at our mainmast head." 
 
 " My dear father, you have now four sons, will 
 you spare me one of them ? it will be a great charge, 
 but not the first of the kind. I have had a young- 
 ster three years under my care, and it will be 
 some security to you for my proper conduct, when 
 
 I tell you that Lieutenant B- is going to put 
 
 his younger son under my management. He is a 
 pious man, and his confidence in me may serve to 
 show that I am not altogether undeserving of yours." 
 
 " I have never kept my birth-day but once since 
 I left England. I sat and felt so melancholy instead 
 of being joyful ; and with good reason, when I. look 
 back on years that are past." 
 
 ^' We sail for the Mauritius to-morrow, and I have 
 humbly besought the Lord, who has ever been 
 merciful to me, to protect and preserve us all. 
 
 "Oh, my good father ! no one can conceive the 
 horror of a shipwreck but those who 'have experi- 
 enced it. iMany, many heartfelt thanks to that 
 Providence which has again rescued me from a 
 watery grave. I had made a little fortune, and 
 was returning home with presents for my family, 
 
LETTERS TO HIS PARENTS. 157 
 
 and with three beautiful shawls for my dear mother, 
 but all is lost, except one trunk, in which was my 
 Bible, and the Dairyman's Daughter. Thus all 
 my hopes and expectations have been frustrated. 
 Yet I believe these things are for my good. I must 
 begin the ^vorld afresh, and I hope to do so in more 
 senses than one. Tell my dear mother not to grieve 
 for my misfortunes, God ]\novrs wliat is best for us." 
 
 " While the ship was drivijig, and it blew" a per- 
 fect hurricane, I went down to my cabin to pray to 
 the Lord for his assistance and protection in this 
 trying hour. In the midst of prayer, and while the 
 tears were in my eyes, the ship struck on a sand, 
 with a shock which brought many to the ground ; I 
 staggered a little, though on my knees, and my 
 little L. B — — was thrown off a chest on which he 
 lay close to me. Everything was now confusion. 
 In the mean time I again went below and prayed 
 with heart and soul to Almighty God to save us ; — 
 and my prayers were answered, ^ ^ for a certain 
 something — a kind of comfortable thought seemed 
 to rest with me and say, ' Thy life shall be spared.' 
 Not all the shocks, seas, or winds could afterwards 
 make me fear or think the contrary. Surely there 
 never was a greater proof than this, that the Lord 
 is ahvays w-ith us. It anim.ated and comforted me, 
 and made me work and exert myself with redoubled 
 vigor, though a great part of the night it rained 
 hard, accompanied v/ith thunder and lightning. 
 
 " Oh ! how thankful I ought to be to Almighty 
 God for his many mercies repeatedly shown to me ; 
 — indeed I trust I know that suitable returns are 
 
 8* 
 
158 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 expected from me. * =^ =* When I look back 
 on the last twenty-five years, I am lost in wonder 
 and astonishment. My dear father, do not forget 
 the eighteenth of July. 
 
 " One thing grieved me in the shipwreck more 
 than all — the loss of some valuable presents for my 
 family ; but this is God's will ; it is the Lord's do- 
 ing, and all is for the best. 
 
 " I am returning home for the re-establishment 
 of my health, which has suflered severely from ex- 
 posure to hardships by night and day : but the hap- 
 piness of seeing you all once more will not a little 
 contribute to my restoration. My lieart beats, and 
 my head tarns giddy at the thought of this meeting ; 
 it will be both a pleasing and a painful one to me. 
 
 " Do not expect me before the end of July or the 
 beginning of August. I shall, of course write to 
 my father on my arrival, that I may not take you 
 by surprise. And oh ! my dear mother, pray for a 
 safe voyage for mo, and a meeting to us all. I have 
 had many trials, afflictions, and crosses for the last 
 ten months, but I feel the loss of her to whom I 
 was engaged most of all, jjcrhaps too much. Still 
 in all these things there is one great consolation ; 
 they are sent by him who careth for me. I believe 
 they arc all ordered in wisdom and mercy, though 
 you and I may not be able to interpret their mean- 
 ing. If we could see the end, as we shall do by 
 and by, I am quite satisfied we should gratefully 
 acknowledge that they were intended for good, and 
 this comfortable assurance, through him who loved 
 us better than we love ourselves, will, I trust, be 
 
HIS EXPECTED RETURN. 159 
 
 my support, and inspire me with • cheerful resigna- 
 tion and renewed confidence in God. I have many 
 thoughts about eternity ; though, alas ! the wicked 
 one strives to banish them from my mind. 
 
 " Your truly valuable letters, my dear mother, 
 discover so much affection and kindness towards 
 me, that I know not how to express my joy and 
 thankfulness ; they often draw tears from my eyes, 
 and are the dearer to me the more I read them. 
 I have a great deal to say, to propose, and to 
 request, and hardly know whether to begin now, 
 or wait till I have the joy of seeing my dearest 
 parents. What a meeting will this be ! I seem to 
 dread it, though it would be a grief inexpressible 
 were it not to take place. # ^ * ^ Pray for 
 an unfortunate wanderer, and may God answer 
 your prayers to my present and eternal good." 
 
 The expected return of Nugent was an event 
 which warmed every heart in Turvey Rectory with 
 the most anxious and affectionate sympathy. The 
 whole family was eager, either to welcome a rela- 
 tive whom they scarcely knew but by report, or to 
 renew an affection which time and distance had not 
 effaced, but rather strengthened. 
 
 Mrs. Richmond fitted up, partly with her own 
 hand, a room for her son's reception, and arranged 
 everything to testify her regard for her returning 
 child, and banish every painful recollection from his 
 mind ; but after the lapse of a few months, his death, 
 instead of his arrival, was announced. 
 
 His constitution had been greatly impaired by 
 
160 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 unhealthy climates, and the successions of hardships 
 to which he had been exposed, until both his health 
 and spirits finally sunk under the last and greatest 
 
 trial, the death of Miss . After this event he 
 
 resolved on returning immediately to England. 
 
 Previous to the voyage he had an attack of fever, 
 and embarked in very weak health. The ship met 
 with a heavy gale, which induced him to exert him- 
 self beyond his strength ; he had a relapse of fever, 
 became very ill, and was occasionally delirious. 
 Immediate danger was not apprehended, but one 
 night he went to bed about twelve o'clock, and was 
 found dead in his cabin the next morning, to the 
 surprise and grief of all on board, by whom he was 
 universally beloved and respected. 
 
 Alone in the hour of his departure from sin and 
 sorrow ; yet not alone, for his God, and the God of 
 his father was with him, and gave hiin rest from 
 the days of adversity.* 
 
 An ivory box containing a few jewels and gold 
 chains, which he had intended as presents for his 
 brothers and sisters, was discovered in his pocket 
 after his decease. On the inside of the cover, the 
 following lines were written in his own hand in 
 pencil, apparently a short time before his death. 
 
 * The chief part of his property was lost with the Oracabessa, 
 but he left out of the scanty store reserved from three shipwrecks, 
 a hundred rupees to general charitable purposes ; £bQ to the Bible 
 Society, i;50 to the Church Missionary Society, £bQ to the Society 
 for Promoting Christian Knowledge, and i;50 to the Religious 
 Tract Society. The selection of these charitable institutions was 
 probably designed to express affection and respect for his father's 
 preferences, as well as regard on his own part for the truths of 
 religion. 
 
HIS DEATH. , 161 
 
 Where vice has held its empire long, 
 
 'Twill not endure the least control : 
 
 None but a power divinely strong, 
 
 Can turn the current of the soul. 
 
 Great God, I own thy power divine, 
 
 That works to change this heart of mine ; 
 
 I would be formed anew, and bless ■ 
 
 The wonders of redeeming grace. 
 
 While little was known of his dying moments, 
 the most satisfactory accounts of his living hours 
 were received by Mr. Richmond from many persons 
 who for some years had observed Nugent's exem- 
 plary conduct. 
 
 A melancholy feeling steals over the spirits, as 
 we follow this first-born son of an excellent man 
 through each succeeding calamity of his life, to a 
 solitary death. 
 
 We must adore in silence, confidently resting on 
 the wisdom and goodness of Him whom clouds and 
 darkness surround, while " righteousness and truth 
 are the habitations of his seat." 
 
 The history before us exhibits in the clearest 
 light (and this is my chief purpose in writing it) the 
 inestimable blessing of a pious parent, and the value 
 of a religious education under all possible contin- 
 gencies. " In the morning sow thy seed, and in 
 the evening withold not thine hand, for thou 
 knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or 
 that, or whether they both shall be alike good." 
 (Eccles. xi. 6.) 
 
CHAPTEll VI. 
 
 " And tliercfore wert thou bred to vii'luous knowledge, 
 And wisdom early planted in thy soul."' Rowe. 
 
 WiLBERFORCE was tliG sccond son of his father, 
 and was born in Turvey Rectory, Aug. 20, 1807. 
 
 Mr. R. intended to have added another tract to 
 the annals of pious young people. He had prepared 
 materials for this purpose, and even chosen that title 
 for his narrative, which I have adopted for the pres- 
 ent tribute of affection to his memory. It is deeply 
 to be regretted, that he did not live to execute his 
 design. His talents for religious biography was 
 peculiar, perhaps unequalled. He drew his sketches 
 from real life with a scrupulous attention to truth, 
 and never failed to tonch the heart. But such was 
 the poignancy of his feelings in the recollection of 
 past scenes, that he was often compelled to lay 
 aside the attempt, and wait for a season of greater 
 composure. Meanwhile his own increasing infirm- 
 ities, and his final removal from earthly scenes and 
 earthly sorrows, deprived the Christian world of a 
 most instructive memoir, which, though complete 
 in the outline, and comprising all be meant to 
 say of his son from the cradle to the grave, is so 
 imperfect in its detail, that no further use can be 
 made of his materials, than to guide me in my fee- 
 
LIFE OF WILBEHFORCE. 163 
 
 ble delineation of the character of this interesting 
 boy. 
 
 Soon after his birth he was received into the 
 Christian church by the rite of baptism, when his 
 father called him Wilberforce, connecting with that 
 name the most important event in his own life, his 
 conversion to God by the perusal of the " Practical 
 View of Christianity."* 
 
 While an infant, he was taken by his parents on 
 a visit to . Certain associations impart an in- 
 terest to circumstances apparently trivial, while they 
 are fondly regarded as presages of future eminence, 
 and often stimulate to the diligent employment of 
 means for its attainment. Of this character. is the 
 following anecdote. 
 
 "I cannot forget a circumstance which occurred 
 in his infancy ; his mother and myself were on a 
 visit at a friend's house. A large family were as- 
 sembled at morning prayers, and amongst them was 
 our little boy in his nurse's arms. An aged and 
 venerable minister was conducting the family wor- 
 ship. In the midst of his prayer, the child began 
 to cry. The good man paused, and beckoned the 
 servant to give him the infant. He took him in his 
 arms, and held him for several minutes, during which 
 he offered up most affecting petitions on his behalf, 
 praying earnestly, and in a manner that touched all 
 our hearts, that it might please God to bless him 
 for time and eternity ; that if his life were spared, 
 he might be a blessing to his parents and the church 
 of God, and finally have an inheritance with the 
 
 * See Memoir of Mr. Richmond, p. 26. 
 
164 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 saints in light. He then returned the child, now 
 pacified, to the nurse's arms, and resumed the gen- 
 eral subject of his prayer, which had been thus in- 
 terrupted. There was an affecting singularity in 
 the transaction, which much interested us at the 
 time, and now that I am engaged in the retrospective 
 view of what passed from the cradle to the grave 
 of my beloved son, it recurs to my recollection with 
 peculiar emotions of heart. The venerable man of 
 God is long since gone to liis rest, but his prayer 
 was recorded in heaven, and the Lord in mercy has 
 given it a gracious answer." 
 
 When little more than two years old he fell from 
 a window, on the pavement, and though he recov- 
 ered from the accident, he was lame ever afterwards, 
 and the natural delicacy of his constitution was prob- 
 ably increased by the injury he received at that time. 
 This circumstance would scarcely have deserved a 
 serious mention, if it did not seem to be a linlv in 
 the chain of events which contribute towards the 
 formation of his character, by rendering him unfit 
 for boyish sports, and compelling him to seek amuse- 
 ment in higher occupations. "^^ 
 
 His resource was the Museum, and the experi- 
 ments made by his father's philosophical apparatus. 
 In these he toolc a principal share, and resorted to 
 them when his other studies did not require his at- 
 tention. Electricity, pneumatics, mineralogy, chem- 
 
 * To treat little things with contempt is no mark of superior in- 
 telligence. Their potency is acknowledged by all thoughtful ob- 
 servers of the course of events, whether in the sparrow that falls, or 
 the single hair which is numbered. 
 
CHILDHOOD OF AVILBERFORCE. 165 
 
 istry, and music, in Avhich he was no mean profi- 
 cient, occupied his leisure hours. He delighted in 
 science of every kind, but especially in the mathe- 
 matics. The indubitable verity of a demonstration 
 suited his turn of mind, and had God spared his life, 
 he AYould probably have distinguished himself at the 
 university. Such was the opinion of his tutor, who, 
 in a letter of condolence to his father after his death, 
 speaivs of him as a boy of no common intelligence 
 and attainment. 
 
 "I marked the superior endowments of his mind 
 in the first hours of our intercourse, and was con- 
 firmed in my opinion by each succeeding year. He 
 caught an idea quickly, never seemed to forget it, 
 for his memory was remarkably strong and reten- 
 tive, and he made more rapid and solid attainments 
 than any other boy placed under my care. At a 
 very early period he read Euclid, and surprised me 
 with his acute and sensible observations on the 
 character of pure mathematics. He appeared de- 
 lighted to master a difficult problem, and before he 
 was twelve years of age, had exceeded the advance 
 of many men of two 3'ears' standing at the Uni- 
 versity. 
 
 " I observed an equal neatness and success in his 
 classical exercises and translations. But I was still 
 more astonished at his discrimination and knowledge 
 of character. This must have arisen from his seek- 
 ing the conversation of his superiors. He had a 
 thinking mind, and a habit of going to the bottom 
 of a subject. He was not without his prejudices, 
 and sometimes expressed a contempt for authority, 
 
166 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 and assumed an air of confidence in his opinion, 
 which needed checking, though I never found him 
 obstinate or averse to re-consider his own decisions, 
 and but seldom in any material error. 
 
 '' He had a playful temper, and with great good 
 humor would join his brothers in a gambol ; but 
 when alone, he was more like a little man than a 
 child, — he was, in short, an amusing and rational 
 companion." 
 
 The writer of the above extract left Turvey when 
 his pupil was about twelve years of age. Wilber- 
 force expressed great regret at his removal, and ad- 
 dressed his tutor in a letter equally creditable to 
 both parties. I lay it before the reader, to show the 
 affectionate and grateful temper of the one, and to 
 bear an honorable testimony to the conscientious 
 and valuable services of the other. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " I hope you will not suppose that I am insensible 
 to the value of your kind and affectionate care of 
 me. I know nothing wounds more deeply than neg- 
 lect and ingratitude, and I hope I have never, amidst 
 many other errors, fallen into this offence. If I 
 have appeared ungrateful, I sincerely ask pardon. 
 I fear I have often behaved disrespectfully, and " done 
 many things which I ought not to have done." But 
 I assure you, I never gave offence without pain to 
 myself, and the reproof of my own conscience, and 
 a resolution to amend. I am certain all these things 
 will be forgotten, but I thought I might not have a 
 better opportunity of telling you how deeply I regret 
 
VISIT TO LONDON. 167 
 
 them. I shall ever entertain the liveliest emotions 
 of gratitude for the care and pains you have taken 
 in the superintending and directing my studies, and 
 though distance may separate us, I trust love will 
 unite us. I am persuaded you will never forget me, 
 ;ind I beg you will receive this book as a tribute of 
 affection, and a memorial of lasting friendship. My 
 obligations to you are many, and I wish you to pos- 
 sess something as a token of my sense of them. 
 Perchance, when you take up the volume, you will 
 recur to former scenes and associations, and think 
 of Turvey — " sed tempora mutantur." I hope my 
 letter will not displease you : if I have not the pen 
 of a ready writer, I can safely say, I am sincere in 
 all I have said. Be assured of this, that however 
 far distant you may be, or whatever clime you may 
 dwell in — long indeed must the time be before I can 
 forget so good a master as you have been to me. I 
 cannot bid you farewell, until I have wished you 
 health and happiness wherever you may be. I shall 
 highly value and prize your correspondence. 
 " Ever yours, gratefully and affectionately, 
 
 '' WiLBERFORCE." 
 
 I perceive, by Mr. R.'s memoranda, that he toolc 
 his little boy on a visit to London, with a view to 
 amuse and instruct him by the curiosities of that 
 magnificent metropolis. 
 
 I have no doubt the conversation with his child on 
 this occasion was intended for insertion, and would 
 probably have afforded an illustration of his own 
 constant aim at improvement, no less than the char- 
 
168 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 acter and progress of his companion. A letter to 
 Wilberforce on a subsequent visit to town by him- 
 self, may in a small degree supply the defect. 
 
 "My dear Master Wilberforce, 
 
 " As you asked me to describe to you some of the 
 sights which have met my eye in this sightly and 
 sightful city, I will obey you. 
 
 •' 1. The Hobby, or Accelerator, or Adjutor. 
 The neatness of its motions, the swiftness of its 
 speed, the elegance of its management, and the 
 simplicity of its construction, are very remarkable. 
 I have not had a quiet opportunity of trying it, 
 nor do I think the lame can manage it so well 
 as others. On Tuesday next, a new one for ladies 
 only is to be exhibited. All the town is wild this 
 year after hobbies, as they were last year for kalei- 
 doscopes. Old men and children, young men and 
 maidens will soon be whirling- and twirling like Te- 
 totums. Twelve places of exhibition already exist. 
 I have been much amused with the sight. 
 
 " 2. The Automaton Chess Player. Nothing ever 
 surprised or perplexed me so much as this. It is a 
 masterpiece of mechanical invention, and how it 
 acts, is as yet past discovery. It has been shown 
 throughout Europe, but no one has approached to 
 detection. It had so singular an effect on my nerves, 
 that I washed for permission to give one immense 
 laugh, and another immense cry, in order to give 
 vent to my exuberant spirits. The whole company 
 sat in motionless wonder for an hour, during which, 
 one of them played against the Automaton Turk, 
 
EXHIBITIONS. 169 
 
 and was beaten, though a first-rate player, which' 
 vexed him not a little, and he pinched his nose, and 
 bit his fingers with vexation. Our silence was then 
 broken by a man of wood, dressed as a trumpeter, 
 and who played like a trumpeter, and full well he 
 trumpeted, for he accompanied with great precision 
 his master and maker, who played a piece on the 
 Piano Forte. 
 
 '' 3. The Gothic Hall of ancient armory. This 
 is very magnificent — cost three thousand pounds, 
 and alas ! is going to be sold by auction like Bul- 
 lock's Musuem, part of the dissolution of which I 
 have witnessed in the auction room. I saw an an- 
 tique piece of sculpture put up ; one pound, said a 
 gentleman ; two, said another ; three — four — five 
 — one hundred, said the next ; two hundred and 
 fifty, said an old lady ; five hundred, said another — 
 and down it went. 
 
 " 4. The Sostenente Piano Forte. Lovely, 
 sweet, chaste, bewitching tones. Very handsome 
 in appearance — price from one hundred and ten, to 
 three hundred guineas. 
 
 " 5. Doctor Thornton's lecture on the human 
 frame. A fresh subject discussed every time. 
 About thirty ladies and forty gentlemen present ; 
 very useful and instructive. Fine transparent paint- 
 ings of the different parts of the system illustrated ; 
 a grand collection of human bones, and of all kinds 
 of animals ; he exhibited the laughing gas, and it 
 made us all laugh wonderfully ; none could conceive 
 the effect without seeing it ; several of the company 
 tried and exhibited the experiment. He produced 
 
 8 
 
170 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 by another gas, a globe of fire, quite, indeed, quite 
 as bright as the sun at noon-day. He also made, 
 
 as H would say, ' an enormous bang,' with 
 
 soap-suds and hydrogen-gas. The ladies screamed 
 with fright, but no harm was done, and the laugh- 
 ing gas banished all alarms. 
 
 " 6. The Panorama of Spitzbergen, novel and 
 satisfactory. Icebergs, ice-mountains, snow, seas, 
 ships, seals, sea-horses, laruses, white bears, arctic 
 dogs, &c., in abundance ; skies terrific — the whole 
 admirably executed, and affording a complete lec- 
 ture on the natural history of the Polar districts. 
 
 " 7. The Dandies. Very numerous, and vastly 
 abominable. I will not describe them, for verily 
 my soul loatheth them. The dandizettes, the more 
 sightly of the two ; but alas ! vanity of vanities, all 
 is vanity ! 
 
 " 8. The South war k bridge, which you and I 
 saw casting at Rotherham. It strides most nobly 
 across the Thames, and is a grand ornament to the 
 river. 
 
 " 9. The Persian Ambassador. A fine figure 
 in full costume, and quite answers one's idea of an 
 oriental Mahometan grandee. 
 
 '' 10. The fair Circassian. As nobody sees her, 
 of course I do not. so I cannot describe her. 
 
 " I have gone through my arduous day, and have 
 been gratified by a long and interesting conversa- 
 tion with L W . I have received no letters 
 
 from home, and have therefore no answer to send. 
 " With great love to you all, 
 
 *' Your affectionate Father, L. R," 
 
LETTERS FROM HIS FATHER. 171 
 
 This playful and amusing journal of London cu- 
 riosities, contains no allusion to the subject which 
 lay nearest to his heart. But Mr. Richmond sel- 
 dom \Yrote on any occasion to his children without 
 reminding them of some religious truth, or connect- 
 ing whatever was curious in art, or beautiful and 
 grand in nature, with a remark calculated to inspire 
 in their minds sentiments of solid and scriptural 
 piety. The following letters to Wilberforce are fair 
 specimens of his usual manner. The first of these 
 was written when he was yet a little boy. 
 
 '• Dearest little boy, 
 
 "As I was journeying near York last Saturday, 
 where should I suddenly find myself but in a little 
 village called Wilberforce, as my driver and the 
 way-post informed me. ' Dear me,' said I to my 
 fellow-traveller, ' how a certain little lad of my ac- 
 quaintance, would be surprised and pleased had he 
 been in the chaise this moment.' So I got out and 
 walked up and down in Wilberforce, thinking and 
 talking about that said little lad. It is a pretty little 
 place. As I loved the name, both for your sake, 
 and for the sake of Henrietta's godfather ; I amused 
 myself with asking different people the name of 
 the place, and everybody's answer was the same. 
 I asked an old man, ' What is this village called V 
 ' Wilberforce, an' please your reverence,' said he, 
 and so said all the rest ; and thus I pleased myself 
 with making a great many people speak your name, 
 till one of them said, 'I canna think wots the mat- 
 ter wi' the mon ; he made us aw say the same thing. 
 
172 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 Mayhop the mon's a foo.' Now all that was the 
 matter with me, was that I loved you, and it quite 
 pleased me to hear your name when I so little ex- 
 pected it. 
 
 " On Thursday last I saw a gentleman and a 
 lady mount up in a balloon, a mile high into the air, 
 and after sailing there near an hour, they came 
 down again quite safe. On Saturday I went to see 
 the finest church in all England. It is more beau- 
 tiful than all the churches I ever saw put together. 
 To-day I have visited the wonderful dropping well 
 of Knaresborough, which petrifies, after a time, 
 whatever it touches. To-morrow I am going to 
 see one of the finest ruins in the kingdom. Foun- 
 tain's Abbey. Look at your map, it is near Ripon 
 in Yorkshire. This day I received a most beau- 
 tiful letter from the Russian Princess Sophia 
 Metcskersky of St. Petersburgh. I thing I never 
 had so pretty a letter. What makes it so pretty ? 
 It is because it is about Jesus Christ. Nothing is 
 good or right or pretty ivitliout him. He only is 
 
 & 
 
 altogether lovely. 
 
 " I hope both your leg and your lessons go on 
 
 well. If they do, you must thank Mr. C for 
 
 the one and Mr. G. (to whom give my love) for 
 the other, and God for both. * # *< * 
 Last night, at ten o'clock, I saw the Aurora Borea- 
 lis, like a white rainbow stretching all over the sky. 
 On Monday I went to see the iron founders make 
 cannon. They melted the iron in a huge hot fur- 
 nace, it ran out along the ground like a little river 
 of liquid fire — very terrific ! 
 
LETTERS FROM HIS FATHER. 173 
 
 " I have picked up many curious- stones for the 
 museum. God bless you, my little boy, and God 
 bless Henry. Tell him I love him, and I hope he 
 loves me. Kiss all your brothers and sisters for me, 
 and tell them all to be very good. Behave well to 
 
 dear mamma, and Mr. G , and so good bye. 
 
 '' From your loving papa, 
 
 ''L. Richmond." 
 
 The following letter is of later date. 
 
 London. 
 
 " * * *" Your dear mamma 
 
 has evidently improved in health by her visit to 
 town, which I therefore feel it right to lengthen, 
 that by freedom for a time from domestic labors 
 and hourly anxieties, she may, if God pleases, be 
 the better enabled to continue her numerous atten- 
 tions to you and her other children at home. You 
 know her great value to us all, and the day to which 
 you allude will stand as a lasting memorial to us 
 of the loving kindness of God. 
 
 " On Tuesday last I went to Carlton Palace, with 
 four hundred graduates of the University of Cam- 
 bridge, to present an address of congratulation to 
 the Prince Reagent on the marriao;e of his dauo^hter. 
 It was a fine sight, and the splendor of the rooms 
 surprised me. We walked through St. James's 
 street and Pall Mall, two and two, in very long 
 procession, all dressed in the various university 
 robes. The Duke of Gloucester, one Archbishop 
 and nine bishops went first, all the rest in scarlet, 
 blue and gold, blue and silver, black and gold, black 
 
174 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 gowns, &c. An immense collection of carriages 
 and people on foot filled the streets to see the pro- 
 cession, which occupied three-quarters of the length 
 of Pall Mall. We passed through seven grand and 
 princely chambers, till at length we reached the 
 last, in which the Regent, seated on his throne, 
 received us. The Duke of Gloucester delivered 
 the address, to which the Prince made a handsome 
 reply. We all successively made our obeisances, 
 and after remaining a short time to inspect the 
 beauty and gi-andeur of the different state apart- 
 ments, we returned, as we came, to a cold collation 
 provided for the members of the university. The 
 Prince was surrounded by all the great officers of 
 state, and the whole effect was imposing and superb. 
 But fine and entertaining as was this scene of earthly 
 grandeur, what is a palace compared to a cottage, 
 if the grace of God is in one and not in the other ? 
 Earthly greatness is but dust, and will return to 
 dust. Grace alone will outlive it and then what a 
 palace will heaven be to those who are made kings 
 and priests forever I 
 
 I have been to see the great panorama of 
 Waterloo. It is finely painted, but a very terrible 
 exhibition. I think nothing on earth so dreadful 
 as the murder, fury, confusion, pain and suffering 
 of a battle. Even the picture fills me with sadness 
 and horror. 
 
 "I have also seen a panorama of Jerusalem, very 
 inferior as a painting, but very interesting to my 
 mind, as portraying the place where Jesus Christ 
 taught, and sometimes lived in the days of his flesh. 
 
LETTERS FROM HIS FATHER. 175 
 
 I stood upon the Mount of Olives, and looked 
 around me on Mount Zion, Gethsemane, Calvary, 
 Bethany, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the Brook 
 Kedron, the pool of Bethesda, the Wilderness, &c., 
 (fee. The ideas which arose in my mind affected 
 me deeply. I was moved to tenderness and tears, 
 as I looked back in thought upon years that are 
 past, and events with which is associated all that is 
 most dear to the Christian. And would they not, 
 my dear boy, have touched your heart ? 
 
 " I am requested to preach an electrical sermon ; 
 that is, a sermon in behalf of a charitable institution, 
 called the electrical dispensary, for administering 
 medical electricity to the poor. Some of the 
 patients appear to be in a very wretched condition. 
 Out of 7800 persons, 3000 have been cured, 4000 
 greatly benefitted, and 800 discharged without re- 
 ceiving any advantage from this kind of treatment. 
 I have been thinking that this would be a very suit- 
 able text — ' GOD IS Light.' Our greatest gratifi- 
 cation has been derived from attending the public 
 meetino's of the relisfious and benevolent institutions. 
 One, and sometimes two, are held in a day. It is 
 an unspeakable delight to see with our eyes, and 
 hear with our ears, what God is so manifestly and 
 so mercifully bringing to pass, by the exertions of 
 so many valuable societies. 
 
 " Tell G to take care that all the usual and 
 
 necessary preparations be made for the club anni- 
 versary on AVhit Friday. We hope to be in our 
 places on that day. Et jam vale, charissime puer ; 
 memor esto Dei omnipresentis, et patris nunc ab- 
 
176 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 sent is et matris tuae tenerrimae pretiosissimsB, de- 
 lectissimse. Te ipsum cum fratribus sororibnsqiic 
 in votis habemus. Ora pro nobis, ora. Iteruni 
 iterumque vale. 
 
 '' Your affectionate Father, 
 
 " L. Richmond." 
 
 Wilberforce inherited his father's taste for the 
 beauties of nature. In Mr. R,'s memoranda I find 
 a list of more than thirty places of natural magnifi- 
 cence which he visited with his son, and reference 
 made to conversations and mutual delight, in a sur- 
 vey of the works of God. I regret that my guide 
 has only left me these traces of his footsteps in the 
 following notes. 
 
 *' His first visit to Matlock at four years old, his 
 ecstacy, and remarks, even then, on natural scenery. 
 
 " Visited &c., &c., &c. ; his admiration and de- 
 light while he stood lost in thought, and mused over 
 this exquisite scenery. 
 
 " Minerals of the Bible — his acquaintance with 
 their character — his affectionate disposition — his 
 conduct and feelings on the report of Nugent's 
 death." 
 
 In the same paper he notes, 
 
 '' His strict and honorable conduct — exempt from 
 many of the vices common to his age — his confi- 
 dential faithfulness — disposition to fastidiousness — 
 mourned over in his last iUness," &c. 
 
 The following letter to a companion is the only 
 one of this character I shall offer the reader. It will 
 appear how completely Mr. R. had succeeded in 
 
EARLY CHARACTER OF WILBERFORCE. 177 
 
 transfusing his own spirit and principle into the 
 mind of his beloved Wilberforce. 
 
 *'Dear — 
 
 '' I know nothing which I remember with more 
 pleasure than the hours we have spent together in 
 domestic music. I shall never regret the time I have 
 given to music, when I consider its tendency to at- 
 tach us to our delightful homes. We have indeed 
 passed many happy hours together, none happier 
 than those under your own roof. # # # i 
 have been delighted with the scenery of Scotland. I 
 have never seen anything which has given me such 
 an idea of the wisdom and power of the Creator. 
 I do indeed admire the rugged grandeur of the 
 mountains, and the wild beauty of the heath, but I 
 still admire our own fertile plains ; * * * 
 and after all no country can be so pleasant to us 
 as that to which we have been endeared from our 
 earliest infancy. Most anxiously, then, do I wish 
 once more to enjoy with you the sight of our native 
 village, with the river wandering peacefully through 
 the green meadows, and to revisit the scenes of our 
 boyish recollections. * # * I was 
 
 greatly pleased with my visit to London. The 
 greatest treat was the British Museum. The min- 
 erals are so exquisite, so beyond conception beauti- 
 ful and interesting. There is a very fine Museum 
 in Glasgow, and some beautiful specimens of min- 
 erals in it It has just received the addition of a live 
 rattle snake, which uses its tail in tremendous style, 
 and when disturbed is ready to revenge an affront. 
 8* 
 
178 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 * * *^ I shall probably astonish the Scotchmen 
 soon with the peculiarity and beauty of my visage, 
 for the hairdresser (' who cuts and curls my hair in 
 the last Parisian fashion') assures me that in a very 
 short time I must have my head shaved, and ex- 
 change a few straggling locks for a wig. My pate 
 will look like a lump of coxcomb iron pyrites." 
 
 I would not weary my reader by dwelling on the 
 early character of Wilberforce, or detain him from 
 details of higher interest ; the particulars I have 
 mentioned serve to show, that true piety is perfectly 
 compatible with all that is innocent and rational in 
 our pursuits and recreations : that it cannot fairly 
 be ascribed to mere dullness or morbid sensibility, 
 and that it is not necessary to denounce a devoat 
 and heavenly spirit, in order to establish a claim to 
 superiority of sense or refinement. 
 
 I will now pursue the memoir into narrations 
 more immediately connected with my purpose ; the 
 illustration of Mr. R.'s peculiar method in the relig- 
 ious education of his children, and the success which 
 attended his unremitted and conscientious discharge 
 of the duties of a Christian parent. 
 
 When Wilberforce was a little child, his father, 
 aware of the vast importance of early associations, 
 accustomed him to habits of religion, even before he 
 had a capacity to understand or value them. He 
 consecrated to God his lohole family in daily prayers ; 
 the infant in arms was present as a worshipper, it 
 might at first disturb the order of the family devo- 
 tion, but it soon learned silence, and seemed pleased 
 with the group before it. So long at it could not 
 
EARLY TRAINING. 179 
 
 speak he spoke for it ; he wouki hold it in his arms 
 saying, " God be gracious to thee, my son." When 
 Wilberforce could scarcely lisp in accents of prayer 
 or praise, Mr. R. composed the following little piece, 
 to be committed to memory and repeated to his 
 mamma every evening. In these simple lines nothing 
 more was aimed at than a suitable vehicle of instruc- 
 tion to an infant mind. It breathes the same devout, 
 tender, and affectionate spirit which pervades Mr. 
 R.'s other productions. 
 
 WILBERFORCE'S EVENING ADDRESS TO MAMMA. 
 
 Mamma, 'tis Jesus loves my soul, 
 And makes the wounded sinner whole ; 
 My nature is by sin defiled, 
 Yet Jesus loves a little child. 
 
 I know my temper is not right, 
 I'm often tretful. scold and fight, 
 I would hke him be meek and mild, 
 For Jesus loves a little child. 
 
 How kind is Jesus, oh ! how good ! 
 For my poor soul he shed his blood ; 
 For children's sake he was reviled, 
 Yet Jesus loves a little child. 
 
 When I offend you by my tongue, 
 And say and do what's verj"^ wrong, 
 O pray, mamma, be reconciled, 
 For Jesus loves your little child. 
 
 He teaches me to shed a tear, 
 Whene'er I grieve a friend so dear ; 
 But though I am so thoughtless, wild, 
 Yet Jesus loves the little child. 
 
 To me may Jesus now impart 
 Although so young, a gracious heart; 
 
180 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 Alas ! I'm oft by sin defiled, 
 Yet Jesus loves the little child. 
 
 And I love him, lor he loves me, 
 And hope his faithful child to be; 
 The Sinner's Friend he's justly styled, 
 And Jesus loves your little child." 
 
 The following letter to his little boy on his birth- 
 day, is of the same character. 
 
 " It was early this morn as I waked from my rest, 
 An unusual emotion sprung up in my breast : 
 The occasion of this, do you wish to be told 1 
 'Tis my little boy's birth-day — he's just four years old. 
 
 Foolish father! cries one, is this all you can say 1 
 Is this to disturb all your feelings to-day 7 
 Yes — and were you a father, you would not feel cold, 
 On your little boy's birth-day, when just four years old 
 
 Old maidens and bach'lors who no children have, 
 Your patience I ask, for your pardon I crave, 
 While this child to my heart I so warmly enfold, 
 On the little boy's birth-day, who's just four years old. 
 
 Ye mothers, who clasp your dear babes in your arms 
 And watch o'er their youth with a thousand alarms, 
 Set your's down for one instant, my child to behold, 
 'Tis the little boy's birth-day, he's just four years old. 
 
 Ye that doat on your own lads, can feel for another's, 
 And bear with the fondness of fathers and mothers, 
 I invite your attendance, so deem it not bold, — 
 'Tis the little boy's birth-day, he's just four years old. 
 
 He can prattle and talk, with a sweet little smile, 
 Which my heaviest moments will often beguile ; 
 So I value him more than ten millions twice told : 
 'Tis my little boy's birth-day, he's just four years old. 
 
 Dear wife, on whose breast the dear babe hung so long, 
 Shall my muse, on this day, forget thee in her song 1 
 
Early character. 181 
 
 Come and kiss the poor lad, and rejoice to be told 
 
 'Tis your little boy's birth-day— he's just four years old. 
 
 My sweet boy ! I've been writing these verses for you, 
 They show more of the father than poet, 'tis true ! 
 Yet in spite of the critics, papa will be bold : 
 Little boy, 'tis your birth-day — you're just four years old. 
 
 May the blessing of God, in abundance poured down, 
 Give thee grace while on earth, and in glory a crown ; 
 As thou growest in years, may thy virtues unfold, 
 'Tis my prayer on thy birth-day, when just four years old.'' 
 
 The incidents of childhood are seldom interest- 
 ing beyond the family circle, neither can much reli- 
 ance be placed on early appearances of piety un- 
 tried by temptation. It may be well to cherish 
 every holy emotion in our children ; to water and 
 cultivate the tender plant committed to our care ; 
 but until influence and impression is succeeded by 
 principle and the choice of the mind, we may re- 
 joice in the buddings of divine life, but we must not 
 indulge in too sanguine expectations. The scep- 
 tical tendencies of Wilberforce's mind in childhood, 
 are by no means of rare occurrence at that age ; 
 for infidelity, notwithstanding its arrogant preten- 
 sions to superiority, is the vulgar weed which grows 
 in every soil, and withers before the sunshine of 
 clearer information ; a little knowledge may help to 
 an objection, when diligent and serious inquiry will 
 discover its futility. 
 
 There is one note in Mr. Richmond's papers, 
 which refers to Wilberforce's conduct and feelings 
 on receiving the report of his brother's death.* It 
 is probable he shared his father's anguish in that 
 
182 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 mournful event — uncertain as they both were of 
 Nugent's spiritual welfare, and fearing the worst 
 from all that was then known of his past conduct. 
 They had heard nothing of those satisfactory testi- 
 monies to his conversion, which afterwards cheered 
 and relieved their minds. A concern for the ever- 
 lasting welfare of another, is no small evidence of 
 our own sincerity in the pursuit of eternal life ; and 
 I have no doubt that Wilberforce had, at that time, 
 made a progress in true religion, greater than his 
 extreme reserve warranted his friends to conclude. 
 His respect for piety, the deep attention with which 
 he listened to instruction, the satisfaction which he 
 displayed in communicating to others what he 
 seemed to understand himself, and his uniform good 
 conduct and general conformity to the habits of a 
 religious family, induced his father to hope '' all 
 was well with him," though he was too deeply im- 
 pressed with the infinite value and necessity of a 
 sound conversion to God, to rest satisfied with any- 
 thing short of a full and explicit declaration on the 
 part of his child. 
 
 Wilberforce had ever expressed a decided prefer- 
 ence for the ministry, which rendered it, in Mr. 
 R.'s judgement, the more necessary that he should 
 possess a piety the most decided and unequivocal. 
 To become by profession an ambassador for God to 
 a guilty world, without credentials^ was justly re- 
 garded by him as a profane intrusion into an office 
 of immense responsibility ; and he has been heard 
 to say that " he would rather follow his son to the 
 
LETTER FROM HIS FATHER. 183 
 
 grave, than see him in the church without being 
 fitted for such a sacred office."* 
 
 The sentiments of both will be best expressed in 
 the following correspondence. The first letter was 
 written from Stockport, in Lancashire, when Wil- 
 berforce was eleven years old. 
 
 " Dear Willy, 
 
 " Are you indeed u good boy during my absence? 
 Shall I have no cause for heart-ache on my return, 
 when I ask how my child has behaved ? How he 
 has obeyed his mamma ? How he has attended to 
 his lessons ? How he has submitted to his sister's 
 instructions ? How he has conducted himself to- 
 wards Mr. G ? How he has adhered to truth 
 
 in his words? How he has set H a good 
 
 example ? Shall I be comforted with the glad tid- 
 ings, that your heart and your conscience, and your 
 ways, all seem to partake of a happy influence ? 
 that you throw away all indolence of mind and 
 body ? that you actively pursue learning and gain 
 it? that your brother improves every day through 
 the effect of your good behavior ? that you seldom 
 or ever quarrel, snap, or snarl at him ? that you 
 pray to God to forgive your sins and hourly offences ? 
 
 * The expression of Mr. Richmond is a strong one, though in 
 perfect unison with the sentiments and feeUngs of the Editor. 
 Mr. R. must not, however, be mistaken, as if he connected his child's 
 death with eternal consequences. There can be no doubt that he 
 intended to say, he should feel the death of his child a less afflict- 
 ing dispensation than his profaning a holy ordinance, and, by 
 ignorance or neglect, involving immortal souls in everlasting 
 destruction. 
 
184 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 Shall I be told that you have prepared a happy re- 
 turn home for papa, by his hearing all this good of 
 you, when he comes back ? Do the four walls of 
 your little chamber bear witness to your prayers 
 and supplications for yourself and me ? Do the 
 sun's rays as they early penetrate your window in 
 the morning, find you active to rise, to read, to la- 
 bor, and to grow in grace 7 # * ^ ^ 
 I have seen some beautiful counties since I left you. 
 Staffordshire is full of bea.uty. Lichfield cathedral 
 too, which, though much smaller than York Min- 
 ster, is a very fine building. I attended divine ser- 
 vice there ; the organ notes rolled sublimely along 
 the vaulted arches, pillars, and roof. The exqui- 
 sitely painted windows assimilated to the sounds, 
 and rendered the effect most enchanting. The 
 spires are beautiful, and larges sums have been laid 
 out in repairing and restoring them. 
 
 " One evening I travelled with a friend in a gig 
 for three hours, amidst the never-ceasing distant 
 lightning. The whole western hemisphere was in 
 a constant blaze. The flashes alternated from one 
 point of the horizon to another, distant about forty- 
 five degrees from each other ; sometimes the flashes 
 were silvery, sometimes yellow, then orange color ; 
 one while sheet-like, and again so vivid that we 
 seemed to have a peep into more distant regions of 
 space ; then more faint, now and then we heard 
 slight rumblings ; then all was silent again. At 
 one point the flashes gleamed on the ruins of a dis- 
 tant castle which appeared all on fire ; a dark 
 forest lay behind, and it formed a fine contrast 
 
CORRESPOXDExNCE WITH IIIS FATHER. 185 
 
 Sometimes the forked flashes pursued one another 
 in a kind of playful progress ; at others they dashed 
 at each other as if in terrible combat ; all this passed 
 between seven and ten in the evening. 
 
 " But what are these lightnings, compared with 
 those which made Moses quake and tremble at 
 Mount Sinai, or what were even these, contrasted 
 with the lightnings of God's wrath against sinners ? 
 These appearances of nature are striking emblems 
 of Divine justice. You have need to flee from the 
 wrath to come. Repent, for the kingdom of heaven 
 is at hand. The wicked, and all the people that for- 
 get God, shall be turned into hell. Dear Willy, if 
 you forget him, what will be your portion ? If you 
 say that you do not forget him, how do you prove 
 it? 
 
 Video meliora proboque 
 Deteriora sequor, 
 
 is the character of too many nominal Christians. I 
 would not have it to be yours ; an enlightened, con- 
 verted mind ; with eyes and tongue to approve what 
 is right, but the feet walking in the paths of evil. 
 A converted heart alone will enable you to follow 
 his steps, who is ' the way, the truth and the life.' 
 "I sincerely hope that you are beginning to be 
 truly sensible of the evil and danger of sin, and the 
 necessity of seeking God betimes. Occasional in- 
 dispositions should remind you, that you may never 
 arrive at man's estate. If you are to die a boy, we 
 must looli for a boy's religion, a boy's knowledge, 
 a boy's faith, a boy^s Saviour, a boy's salvation ; or 
 
186 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 else a boy's ignorance, a boy's obstinacy, a boy's 
 unbelief, a boy's idolatry, a boy's destruction. Re- 
 member all this, and beware of sin ; above all, dread 
 the sinfulness of an estranged heart. Pray. for a 
 new one ; pray for grace and pardon, and a soul 
 conformed to the image of Christ ; pray for wisdom, 
 for the destruction of pride, vain conceit, and self- 
 sufficiency. Be not slothful in business, but fervent 
 in spirit, serving tlie Lord. Friends here inquire 
 after you, in the full hope that you are going on 
 well, creditably, obediently, industriously, humbly 
 and Christianly. Love to all, from 
 
 '' Your affectionate Father, 
 
 ''L. R." 
 
 What reply was made by Wilberforce to this 
 letter, does not appear ; his repugnance to a free 
 and unreserved communication on the subject of 
 personal religion, seems not to have been overcome 
 till nearly four years after, though his anxious 
 father longed to elicit something on this point more 
 satisfactory than could be collected from a general 
 acquiescence in the opinions and habits of the 
 family. A letter written by Wilberforce to his 
 father in 1821, discloses a mind under the influence 
 of more distinct views, and stronger feelings break- 
 ing through the fetters of natural reserve. 
 
 ^' My dear Father, 
 
 ''You wdll believe me, when I say, that I entirely 
 and most thoroughly agree with you, ' that it is time 
 we should communicate frequently, intimately, and 
 
CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FATHER. 187 
 
 confidentially.' I feel very thankful that you have 
 so plainly declared your thoughts and determina- 
 tion concerning me ; I know my inability to answer 
 you in the way you wish, but I rejoice in an oppor- 
 tunity of telling you. what my thoughts have been 
 and still are in respect of the most important sub- 
 lect of your inquiry. I deeply regret that a false 
 shame has hitherto deterred me from an open 
 avowal of my sentiments and feelings. I will 
 honestly confess to you, that I have never seriously 
 considered the subject of the ministry till within the 
 last few months. Brought up from my infancy with 
 the expectation of becoming a clergyman, and ac- 
 customed as I have been to think and speak of it 
 as my future profession, I have been little aware of 
 the difficulty, and have not sufficiently considered 
 the responsibility of the office which I hoped would 
 one day be mine. You know how mucht his pros- 
 pect has pleased me all through my childhood. I 
 have had many fears and alarms about my sinful 
 state, but they soon faded away. The impression 
 has never been permanent till dear little Atherton 
 died. At that time it pleased God to awaken in me 
 a deeper sense of my dangerous condition, and I 
 prayed very earnestly that God would pardon my 
 sins, for Christ Jesus' sake, and that the Holy Spirit 
 would renew my heart. Then I fell into another 
 error, for I began to trust myself instead of the 
 Saviour. 1 thought I was now proof against tempta- 
 tion, and had the presumption to suppose myself 
 fit for the ministry. But I was awfully deceived. 
 There arose soon after in my mind many doubts of 
 
188 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 the authenticity of the Scriptures. Wherever I 
 went, or whatever I was doing, these doubts 
 haunted me. I found that I could not, I dared not 
 pray. At first I repulsed these suggestions with 
 horror, but they gradually laid so fast hold of me, 
 that they destroyed all my peace. When engaged 
 in my studies, that which was often ascribed to idle- 
 ness, was really occasioned by the state of my 
 mind, which was so perplexed that I could not at- 
 tend to other things ; even my pleasures were 
 damped by uneasiness. I have no doubt that if I 
 had been in some situations, I should have become 
 a determined infidel. T tremble, dear papa, while 
 I write thus ; and when 1 look back and think of 
 my situation at that time, I cannot feel sufficiently 
 thankful that my life was spared, and that I was 
 not cut off from God forever. I found that I had 
 trusted in my own strength, that I had neglected 
 prayer, and while I continued in that neglect^ I 
 couM not reasonably expect the removal of these 
 distressing searchings of heart. It was with some 
 difficulty I could bring myself on my knees again. 
 I was fearful tliat God would not hear me. But I 
 read the Bible for encouragement, and I found it 
 there. By continual prayer I was directed to the 
 means of relief, and I have not been troubled with 
 one more doubt since that time. Indeed, I cannot 
 but believe that the death of our poor little Atherton 
 was blest to me. It affected me more than any 
 conversation or other event, and more than any one 
 knew ; I have never lost the impression. 
 
 "Yet I cannot feel comfortable in becomino; a 
 
CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FATHER. 189 
 
 minister of Christ in my present state of mind. My 
 conscience would be uneasy, if I presumed to fill 
 an office whose functions are so far above my 
 ability or piety ; but I earnestly pray that God 
 may give me such a measure of his grace, as may 
 in some degree fit me to become an unworthy, but 
 true servant of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 " Having now freely and confidentially told you 
 what has been passing in my mind, I lie in your 
 hands, and trust you will pardon any error of 
 expression or sentiment which may appear in my 
 letter, and that you will correct whatever you see 
 wrong in me. Receive, my dear papa, my confi- 
 dence, as the strongest mark of affection and grati- 
 tude which can be given by your affectionate, but 
 unworthy son, Wilberforce." 
 
 I have no documents to trace the progress of this 
 interesting boy, during an interval of near two 
 years. Able and pious tutors attended to his im- 
 provement in literature, and by their conversation 
 and example, aided his progress in religion ; which, 
 though still of a reserved character, was doubtless 
 sincere and increasing. 
 
 In 1823, Mr. Richmond was in Glasgow, from 
 whence he wrote to his son as follows : — 
 
 " My very dear Wilberforce, 
 
 " I am very glad that Hartwell Home proves so 
 acceptable to you. "^ ^' « * ^ 
 
 I cannot express my anxieties on your account, 
 both as they respect your Christian principles, and 
 
190 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 your future prospects as connected with the minis- 
 try. We must indeed become still more communi- 
 cative and confidential, or the burden on my heart 
 will become heavier than I can bear. It has long 
 been the first wish of my mind, that you should be 
 a minister of the gospel, but only, and entirely, and 
 unequivocally, without partiality, and without hy- 
 pocrisy, as your personal character, experience, and 
 determination might be formed on a serious, afiec- 
 tionate, conscientious, and prayerful foundation. I 
 want to see my loved boy, first a true Christian, 
 and then a true minister. Oh ! may God hear my 
 prayers on this subject. For this I cry day and 
 night — and unworthy as I am of such a blessing, 
 yet I will trust him for it, and I would wrestle like 
 Jacob until I attain it. But you must wrestle too, 
 yea, and with all your heart, all your mind, all 
 your soul, and all your strength. You must study 
 your own heart ; you should not only study the 
 scriptures, but keep in reading some searching ex- 
 perimental book as a bosom companion. A love of 
 such reading, at least no alienation from it, proves 
 a useful test of character. 4?: # ^ * 
 
 I am glad to hear you give yourself more regularly 
 and resolutely to study. I have often had fears of 
 indolence and inactivity, those banes of all progress, 
 proficiency and hope. I shall indeed rejoice to find 
 that the bonds are broken. # # # # 
 
 Theology itself, important as are its themes and 
 communications, sinks into mere science or literary 
 attainment, unless founded upon, and accompanied 
 
CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FATHER. 191 
 
 by a devotional and aflfeotionate application of its 
 principles to the soul. 
 
 " It is much easier to be a divine than a Chris- 
 tian — an ecclesiastic than a pastor. You may be 
 little aware liow much more truth and wisdom 
 dwell in some cottages and hearts at Turvey, than 
 in many a house, and in many a mind, in which 
 superior advantages seem to prevail, and even where 
 real religion is known and respected. I long foi 
 the day when you and 1 may not only comfortably 
 and confidentially converse on these subjects — on 
 things which belong to our everlasting peace, our 
 prospects in time and eternity — but when you take 
 such a share in my private parochial intercourse 
 with the parishioners, as may leave no doubt of 
 your being one with us. But then it must be pre- 
 viously manifest that you are consistent and in 
 earnest, and that you have not only put away 
 childish follies and faults, but are living, and not 
 ashamed to live, under the influence of higher prin- 
 ciples. I want you to aid me effectually in the 
 instruction of poor children, in visiting the sick, in 
 conversing with the poor. If you are to be a min- 
 ister, you should now commence your seven years' 
 apprenticeship to the holy office. But then your 
 conduct must be uniform, simple, consistent. The 
 reproach of the cross must in some measure be en- 
 countered, and the love of Christ in the heart put 
 to some satisfactory test. Think of these things, 
 and write to me about them. Let me have the 
 comfort of knowing more of your mind. Our 
 present interval of separation may be a time of 
 
192 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 much salutary communication. I would say in the 
 language of Solomon, " My son, give me thy 
 heart ;" but first give it to God. You are arrived 
 at an age when many dangerous temptations will 
 assail you, and you will be put to the proof whether 
 your heart is right with God, and if you are thrown 
 upon the world and its seductions, more than, hap- 
 pily, has hitherto been needed or sought, you will 
 find indeed tliat it lieth in wickedness, multiplied, 
 subtle, and appalling. ]\Iay you, my dear son, be 
 preserved in your youth, and when old, never de- 
 part from the way in which you have been trained. 
 
 " You must in a very especial manner consider 
 the daily influence of your temper, conduct, and 
 conversation upon your brothers and sisters. An 
 elder brother is usually the blessing or the curse of a 
 household. You never knew, or will know what 
 I suffered on poor Nugent's account ; but God has, 
 I trust, in mercy overruled for eventual good what 
 seemed to threaten nought but evil. May the 
 course of yo^ir youth be very different, and may 
 you contribute to heal the remains of former 
 wounds inflicted on my parental feelings. 
 
 " Write soon, for letters are long in coming to 
 me. Give a very affectionate message to my 
 much-loved parishioners, and do assure them how 
 closely I bear them on my heart's remembrance. 
 Love to all. God bless you, my dear children, 
 yes, God bless you all. There is a certain store 
 of love in this house, from wdiich is drawn a 
 respectable portion to be conveyed to Turve3^ 
 Take it, and use it well. Assemble the brother- 
 
CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FATHER. 193 
 
 hood and sisterhood, and kiss them in their succes- 
 sion, telling them it is a proxy from one who loves 
 them well and that one is their affectionate 
 Father, 
 
 '' Legh Richmond." 
 
 The following extract, which connects this cor- 
 respondence, was written by Wilberforce to his 
 father in the same year, and during the same 
 journey to Scotland. 
 
 " * * * ^-^ I have thought and con- 
 sidered a great deal on the contents of your last 
 letter ; I read it, I assure you, with many tears, 
 but they were tears of love to you, and of sorrow 
 that I fell so far short of your wishes and reasonable 
 expectations. You say you wish me first to be a 
 true Christian, and then a true minister ; believe 
 me, when I say, that though it is the first, the 
 nearest and the dearest wish of my heart, I would 
 not have a desire, not the slightest desire of enter- 
 ing the church in an unfit state of mind. I would 
 rather engage in the meanest occupation of life, 
 than be a disgrace to the religion of Christ, by 
 entering into the holy profession while I am unfit 
 for it. When I look at the apostles of old, and 
 mark how full they were of love to Christ and their 
 fellow-creatures ; or when I look to good men of 
 our own day who tread in their steps, I shrink 
 from assuming a profession for which I cannot but 
 know myself most unworthy. I am conscious of 
 being a great sinner, and I seem to myself utterly 
 
 9 
 
194 FAMILY PORTRAITURK. 
 
 incompetent to be more than a humble disciple in 
 the church of God. But I know that the blood of 
 Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin, and his Spirit 
 can enable me, sinful as I am, to love and serve 
 him. I have much to be thankful for. I ought to 
 be thankful that I am permitted to think about 
 these things. At times I have felt very happy in 
 prayer and reading the Scriptures. My joy has 
 been such, that I seemed ready, not only to love 
 God, but give up all the world for his sake ; then 
 again the cares and pleasures of life have laid hold 
 of me and sunk me into sorrow. 
 
 ''Pray for me, my dear father, that my wavermg' 
 mind may be fixed in the paths of truth, and may 
 choose that better part, which when once obtained, 
 shall never be taken away from me ; and may God 
 direct me to that profession of life, in which I may 
 most promote his glory, and my own good, and that 
 of my fellow-creatures." 
 
 The following year Wilberforce was attacked 
 with a dangerous illness, which terminated in his 
 death. 
 
 A journey to Scotland was recommended, with a 
 
 view to consult Dr. , whose method of treatino- 
 
 pulmonary disease was supposed to have succeeded 
 in many instances. 
 
 Mr. R. engaged a small cottage at Rothsay, in 
 the Isle of Bute, at a convenient distance from this 
 physician's residence. From hence he made fre- 
 quent excursions by sea and land, in the hope, by a 
 change of scene and air, to check the progress of 
 
LETTER FROM SCOTLAND. 195 
 
 the disorder. It appears by the following letter to 
 his curate, that he had not yet despaired of his 
 son's recovery, but being at once the nurse, the 
 father, and the spiritual guide of his dear boy, he 
 was making every effort on his behalf, and dili- 
 gently employing the means prescribed by the 
 physician. 
 
 " My dear Friend and Brother, 
 
 " If the date of this letter may seem to betoken 
 inattention to my promise, or a wrong estimate of 
 your valuable services during my absence from 
 home, I rely on your friendship and candor to 
 ascribe my silence to other causes. I liave been 
 almost daily, from morning to night, sailing about 
 with my dear boy upon sea and river, and neither 
 the motion of the steamboats, nor the lassitude felt 
 at night after such voyages, are favorable to epis- 
 tolary duties. But I can truly say, that my heart's 
 best prayers and recollections have been with you, 
 and this poor scrawl is meant to tell you so. You 
 well know^ likewise that anxiety within, added to 
 external causes, will easily unhinge the energy of 
 the mind, and produce a kind of constitutional 
 incapacity and indisposition^ to duty itself. But 
 neither let my friend nor my flock for a moment 
 conceive that they are forgotten. During many an 
 hour, as I have been floating on the waves, pacing 
 the mountains and glens, admiring the islands and 
 the rocks, tracing the progress of sun or moon upon 
 the ocean or landscape, and amidst all, fijj:ing an 
 anxious and affectionate look upon our dear invalid 
 
196 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 as he sat by my side ; during many such an hour 
 have I dwelt with solicitude and regard on the 
 domestic and parochial scenery of Turvey, — dear 
 Turvey, where so many sweet pledges, both of 
 natural and spiritual love, reside, — where my pooi 
 boy was born and trained up with brothers and 
 sisters no less loved than himself. Our intercourse 
 and conversations under existing circumstances, are 
 deeply interesting to me. He is upon the whole in 
 cheerful spirits, and the air of this delightful island 
 particularly suits him. I am just returned from a 
 hill- walk with him, of a mile and a half, and have 
 been surprised at the degree of strength which he 
 evinced. The general symptoms are just now, I 
 think, more favorable. Still there are evident 
 marks of deep-rooted disease, and I am often much 
 perplexed by the fluctuations in his case. It is one 
 in which I feel it wrong either to encourage over- 
 sanguine expectations of permanent amendment, or 
 to give way to any over-desponding sensations as 
 to the result. Happily, he is without pain, and in 
 many respects he enjoys himself. He deliglits in 
 the scenery around us, whicli is in the highest 
 degree magnificent and beautiful. He enters with 
 his wonted taste into mineral and geological exam- 
 inations, and wanders gently by the sea-side, hunt- 
 ing for pebbles, animals, shells, sea- weed, &c., and 
 I wander with him. Sometimes a little exertion 
 fatigues him, at other times he bears considerably 
 more without complaining. He has been a thou- 
 sand miles on the water since we left London, and 
 sailing always agrees with him. I have every 
 
LETTER FROM SCOTLAND. 197 
 
 reason to be satisfied with the plan we are pursu- 
 ing. It much contribates to his strength and 
 comfort, and peace of mind ; and, to say the least, 
 has checked the weakening effects of the disorder, 
 and mingled encouragement with apprehensions 
 which might otherwise have gained daily ground. 
 He is evidently thinking very seriously and rightly 
 about his state, and our Christian conversation forms 
 no small part of my comfort, and I trust I may add, 
 of his comfort also. Whatever may be God's will, 
 I feel satisfied that the present dispensation is prof- 
 itable to us both. May he confirm and increase 
 our hope. I am much gratified by the accounts 
 which I receive of your very auspicious commence- 
 ment of ministerial labors at Turvey, and beg you 
 to feel assured of the value I put on them. Go on, 
 my dear friend, in the strength of the Lord, and 
 may you pursue the arduous career of holy exertion, 
 in public and in private, to your own comfort, the 
 glory of God, and the good of my dear ilock. Make 
 known how affectionately I feel towards them, — 
 how earnestly I desire their prayers, and how 
 sincerely I remember them in mine. My not 
 writing to them at an earlier period has arisen 
 entirely from the constant occupation and anxiety 
 which have monopolized my time and my feelings. 
 Wilberforce thanks you for your kind letter. I 
 hope he will soon feel able to answer it. Dear 
 boy ! — he talks with hope of returning to Turvey 
 with amended health and telling you in person how 
 much he enjoyed the scenery of the north. Pray 
 for him and me, that wo may lay in oar heavenly 
 
198 FAMILY PORTRAITURl-:. 
 
 Father's bosom like children, and wait his pleasure 
 like believers. You will not forget the other dear 
 boys, — they are in your hands for good, and may 
 God bless you to them all. Give them my bless- 
 ing, and let them convey it to all at the Rectory. 
 Believe me, 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 "L. R." 
 
 . Much of what I should have detailed has been 
 introduced into the memoir of Mr. Richmond. 
 Two only of Wilberforce's letters remain; the first 
 of these was written to his brother H. 
 
 " My dear H., 
 
 " I did not think, when I parted from you, that I 
 should be as well as I am, for I feel very much bet- 
 ter. Sickness and separation have attached me 
 more to you, and to my home, and to all that are 
 in it. Sickness, as is usual, has brought sorrow 
 for its companion, but I trust I do not sorrow as 
 one without hope. My illness has proved a warn- 
 ing to me, and it may also be a warning to you. 
 You saw me brought down, in a very short time, 
 from a state of health and strength, to one of 
 weakness and debility ; and all our natures are 
 alike, equally fragile, equally transient. Un- 
 certain is every tie which binds us to life, and 
 therefore it is my prayer, that you, no less than 
 myself, may look forward to our latter end, and 
 not neglect opportunities of attending more closely 
 to the things which belong to our everlasting peace, 
 
wilberforce's letters. 199 
 
 and guarding against the increasing fascinations of 
 a world that lieth in wickedness. * * # » 
 
 The second letter was a reply to his father's 
 instructions and preparations for the Lord's Supper. 
 
 *' My dear Father, 
 
 " I thank you for the kind letter you wrote to 
 me on the subject of the sacrament. I could not 
 have received one which would have more truly 
 convinced me of your affection and desire for my 
 spiritual welfare. Oh ! may God give an answer 
 to your prayers and desires on my behalf, and may 
 you see me walking humbly and sincerely in that 
 narrow path which leads to life eternal. I have 
 thought much on the contents of your letter, and 
 have been deeply affected. At first I was discour- 
 aged by a sense of unworthiness, and shrunk from 
 the thought of approaching the Lord's table. It 
 then struck me, that even if I had not attained all 
 I desired, I might still venture with a humble and 
 prayerful spirit, and an entire dependence on 
 Christ. I thought, also, that if I neglected attend- 
 ance, I should be dishonoring the Saviour by a re- 
 fusal of an appointed means of grace ; and I do 
 hope that by presenting myself to Christ in his own 
 ordinance, I may be confirmed and strengthened in 
 my faith, and helped on to fulfil the vows made at 
 my baptism, and fight manfully under Christ's ban- 
 ner, against the world, the flesh, and the devil. I 
 would, then, my dear Father, put on the garb of 
 humility, and go and kneel, as the very lowest of 
 
200 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 his disciples, at the foot of the cross of Jesns, and 
 commemorate with gratitude his cross and passion, 
 his glorious resurrection and ascension, — on the 
 merit of which alone are fixed all my hopes in this 
 world and the next. How thankful do I feel that 
 I may kneel at the foot of the cross. Oh ! where 
 besides could I wish to stretch out my aching limbs 
 and die. 
 
 " I suppose my journey wall make same delay in 
 your intentions, but if I return with renewed health 
 and strength, I would consider that in receiving 
 the sacrament, I give a pledge to God and you, to 
 devote myself, soul and body, to the promotion of 
 the divine glory. But if I should not return in 
 health, and if it should seem fit to the Almighty 
 to shorten my life, yet if he will renew my soul by 
 his Holy Spirit, Oh ! how unspeakable a blessing 
 to wing my flight from sin and sorrow. 
 
 " If I were certain of his favor, and my oAvn 
 change of heart, I should only wish to see my 
 Saviour face to face, and praise and love him for- 
 ever. I have written hastily, but as long as I 
 could without fatigue, a short, but I assure you a 
 sincere letter. 
 
 The closing scene of Wilberforce will be detailed 
 by one who loved him dearly, and was a witness of 
 his latter moments. Mr, Richmond had desired 
 his daughter to note down the events and conversa- 
 tions of the sick chamber, and he refers to them in 
 the following letter. 
 
MR. Richmond's letter. 201 
 
 " My DEARLY-LOVED F., 
 
 " I have been very unwell with a swelled face, 
 accompanied by high fever ; and though better, airi 
 still an invalid ; but this illness is sent for some 
 good end to my soul. I desire to investigate that 
 end in a right spirit. The fire at Turvey has done 
 much mischief, and is indeed a general calamity. 
 I wish you to relieve the sufferers. You may dis- 
 tribute for me both money and clothing. I shall bo 
 able to decide better on my return, what sum to 
 subscribe. May we know how to glorify God in 
 the fires. 
 
 " Poor ! although her evidences were faint 
 
 I thought them genuine. I have seen many such 
 cases, and despair not. God often permits the signs 
 of true faith to appear very feeble, when, neverthe- 
 less, the soul cleaves to the Saviour, in the midst of 
 many causes of suspicion and perplexity. Some 
 are saved, ' yet so as by fire.' Happy they who 
 are saved at ail. 
 
 " I hope you have a long manuscript of recollec- 
 tions concerning our beloved Wilberforce. I depend 
 upon it. Employ some hours in preparing for me 
 all you know relative to that eventful period. I 
 still shed many tears in the remembrance of that 
 dearly-loved boy. I have feelings which never leave 
 me for two hours together. They mingle with 
 all my cheerful, and all my pensive moments. ^ I 
 have particular reasons for delaying to write the 
 memoir, but fully intend to do it. 
 
 " I have been at Cambridge. The recognition of 
 many old friends, from all parts of England, has 
 
202 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 much interested me. Indeed, associations connected 
 with former days, have quite overpowered me. The 
 older I grow, the more acutely I feel everything. 
 
 " Take care of too frequent intercourse with the 
 world. I write with a heart full of love, but I must 
 caution you. There is nothing more dangerous to 
 young Christians^ than indiscriminate intercourse 
 ivith persons of no religion. It is far more likely 
 that we should receive evil, than impart good, in 
 such society. I have experienced this too much my- 
 self on many occasions, not to feel it keenly. Pru- 
 dence and prayer are then especially needful ; for 
 we may more easily conform to the world, than 
 bring the world to conform to us. Happy they who 
 have the least to do with it, except in the way of 
 absolute duty and necessity. I often reflect with 
 gratitude on the blessing which God has given to 
 the retired habits and education of my two boys, 
 
 "Vy — — and H , one in heaven and one still on 
 
 earth. To their seclusion I ascribe their simplicity 
 and happy ignorance of many evils. Premature 
 acquaintance with the wickedness of the world — 
 (and there is no knowing the world without coming 
 in contact with its wickedness) — has ruined thou- 
 sands of hopeful young men, and has multiplied 
 the miseries of the hopeless. 
 
 "I long for our early morning readings. Latin, 
 Gireek, and Mathematics, are a very small and in- 
 ferior part of learning, particularly for the Christian 
 ministry. While heads are filling, hearts are with- 
 ering. Give my aflectionate love to dear ; 
 
 next to my own boys I do indeed love him. I long 
 
MR. richmond'j^ letter. 203 
 
 to see more of an unreserved and experimental com- 
 munion between him and H . I have number- 
 less feelings about their intercourse which I do not 
 utter, and yet I know not why ; but this I know, 
 that I have you all in my heart ; but that heart 
 will soon turn to dust. There is a better heart 
 in heaven. I would have all my dear children en- 
 closed in it. 
 
 " Give the children of the Sunday School a new 
 subject, that they may search for texts to prove it. 
 
 " Farewell, dearest F . I lament many 
 
 things, but most of all that I am not worthy to be 
 called 
 
 ''Your aftectionate Father, 
 
 ''L. R." 
 
 Mr. R. was evidently ripening for heaven. The 
 tenderness, the deep piety of his loving spirit, the 
 weanedness of his heart from the world, and his 
 earnest desire to transfuse his devout feelings unto 
 the minds of all who were connected with him, dis- 
 cover an assimilation to a purer region, and might 
 have prepared us to expect that his departure was 
 not far distant. The documents to which he al- 
 ludes, are contained in the following communica- 
 tion, which I commend to the serious and attentive 
 perusal, both of young persons and their parents. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Here were two souls knit together as the soul of one man ; what there is of 
 present separation shall be but for a little while. — Howe. 
 
 " My very dear F , 
 
 " In compliance with your request, I send you 
 the chief incidents of our brother's closing scene ; 
 his conversations with my dear father, and other 
 members of his family, and a few of the letters 
 which were written during that mournful period. 
 You may rely on the accuracy of the whole. My 
 father had intended to have published a memoir of 
 Wilberforce, and with that view he desired me to 
 make memoranda of what passed at the time. He 
 told me, more than once, that the blessing which 
 seemed to attend the perusal of his little tracts, en- 
 couraged him to put on record the piety of his son ; 
 which he considered to be no less honorable to God, 
 and consoling and strengthening to young Chris- 
 tians, than that of the Dairyman's Daughter, or the 
 Young Cottager. He thought that Willy's train- 
 ing for eternity might be read with equal advan- 
 tage, and might assist both in imparting clear views 
 of religion, and in relieving the mind from the fears 
 and anxieties which often distress and harass young 
 Christians in the prospect of death. ' To know 
 that others have been perplexed with the same 
 
THE LATTER DAYS OF WILBERFORCE. 205 
 
 doubts, alarmed by the same fears, animated by 
 the same hopes, comforted by the same promises, 
 and directed by the same precepts,' he used to say, 
 'demonstrate a holy identity in the influence of the 
 gospel and tlie elFccts produced by it, and may com- 
 fort the trembling sinner, and confirm the most ad- 
 vanced believer.' 
 
 " Tl^re are a number of papers m my father's 
 hand-writing, relating to my brother's character 
 and dying hoars, which are indeed so unconnected 
 and unfinished, that scarcely any use can now be 
 made of them ; but they show how interesting a 
 detail the memoir would have been in his hands. 
 He would sit for hours in his study, perusing and 
 adding to these fragments ; but the excess of feel- 
 ing and mental agitation which the contemplation 
 and reminiscence of the past never failed to renew, 
 greatly impaired his licalth, and forced him to lay 
 aside his purpose. 
 
 '' In one of the papers alluded to, we found the 
 following remarks in his own hand. 'I have never 
 given up the design of writing his memoir, and 
 every day's meditation has prepared me for it. But 
 whenever I begin, my spirits sink, my eyes are 
 full of tears, and I lay aside my papers to a more 
 convenient season, when I may be able to write 
 with more calmness. Alas I this is my weakness.' 
 
 " Wilberforce had always been my dear father's 
 companion in his literary and philosophical pursuits. 
 From his childhood his chief pleasures and recrea- 
 tions were in the study ; and he used to retire to 
 the museum to make experiments with the air- 
 
206 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 pump, or electrical machine, or read some book of 
 science, while the other boys were engaged in their 
 sports. As he advanced in years, he employed his 
 leisure hours more especially in the study of min- 
 eralogy, and geology. This congeniality of mind 
 and pursuit contributed to form the strong attach- 
 ment w^hich subsisted betw^een my father and Wil- 
 berforce, and indeed rendered the one almost an 
 integral part of the other. My dear father had a 
 peculiar talent for connecting science w^ith religion, 
 and Wilberforce seemed more than his other chil- 
 dren to afford him materials for successful cultiva- 
 tion. 
 
 " In my father's miscellaneous papers we find 
 the following short notes, evidently written in ref- 
 erence to the projected memoir. 'Early intellectual 
 conversation, great general reading, strong turn for 
 reasoning and argument, deep and close investiga- 
 tion of philosophical questions, acquaintance witli 
 subjects of political economy, love of natural history, 
 insects, mineralogy, geology, classics, mathematics. 
 My wish and endeavor has been to cultivate philo- 
 sopliical pursuits in connection with rehgion, with 
 my children as recreations, instead of allowing and 
 encouraging the trifling and often pernicious amuse- 
 ments of the world. I have found my plan answer 
 in his case.' 
 
 " Our dear father has succeeded in making his 
 home dear to all his children. Home was never 
 talked of without emotion by any of them. They 
 left it with regret. They returned to it with the 
 fondest afiection, and connected with it every 
 
THE LATTER DAYS OF WILBERFORCE, 207 
 
 endearing association. No patriot Israelite ever 
 sang of the place of his nativity with more enthu- 
 siasm, ' Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my 
 mouth, if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief 
 joy.' Oar beloved parents' integrity and uniform 
 consistency engaged our esteem, and the multiplied 
 resources of innocent gratification which surrounded 
 us, won our regard. 
 
 " As Wilberforce gi'ew up, he was considered by 
 the whole family as the one marked out to fill his 
 father's place in the church, and to his relatives. 
 He became an object of interest to all ; and to 
 none was he more endeared than to his loving 
 parent, who clung to him with deeper affection 
 each succeeding year. 
 
 '^ In the spring of 1824, when he had reached 
 his seventeenth year, we were first alarmed for his 
 health. He took cold from a wet ride, and a slight 
 cough succeeded. One morning in the month of 
 May, my father discovered symptoms of his having 
 ruptured a blood-vessel. His fears were greatly 
 awakened, as appears from a note in his papers. 
 ' As I looked on him that morning, I felt a shock 
 which seemed to shatter me to the very soul, and I 
 have never recovered it.' In a short time Wilber- 
 force's appearance was considerably altered, and 
 his spirits were depressed. 
 
 " When a journey to Scotland was proposed, 
 my father was greatly agitated, the more so be- 
 cause it was impossible that at that time he should 
 accompany him, and he dreaded even a short separ- 
 
208 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 ation fj-oiii his beloved child. His feelings will be 
 best shown by the following letter : 
 
 '''St. Neots, Monday night. 
 " ' My ever dear love, 
 
 " ' ^ '^ ^ No one knows, or ever can 
 
 know, the anxiety which I have felt on our dear 
 child's account. Little as it may have been per- 
 ceived, I have been inwardly agitated beyond ex- 
 pression, and this must apologize for any weakness 
 or inconsistency of which I have been guilty. God 
 only knows what I have suffered. I have been 
 taken by surprise. The alarming symptoms in the 
 disease of our beloved child, have awakened a 
 thousand feelings and fears. I have reflected on 
 his bodily, but much more acutely on his spiritual 
 estate. I have been unwilling to separate from 
 him under all the probable, or at least possible 
 contingencies of the disorder. I have wept and 
 trembled. I have mourned over my past deficien- 
 cies towards him. I have had my hopes, not beino- 
 ignorant of the exercises of his mind for years past. 
 Yet I have had my fears, lest he should have 
 fallen from his first love, and lest his literary pur- 
 suits should have weaned his heart from God. 
 For more than a year past, I have hourly meditated 
 on the course of his education and preparation for 
 the sacred ministry. He has been the star of my 
 hopes, the source of my anxieties. I have antici- 
 pated with exquisite, though unuttered joy and 
 hope, his entrance on the glorious work of preach- 
 ing the unsearchable riches of Christ, and 1 have 
 
LATTER DAYS OF WILBERFORCE. 209 
 
 also been full of anxiety in view of the falls and 
 disappointments which yearly occur amidst the 
 contaminations and injurious companionship of a 
 college career. Yet I have never ceased to hope 
 that God will work with him and by him. My 
 declining years have been cheered by associations 
 connected with my interesting boy ; but the Lord 
 now sees good — and blessed be his name — to hang 
 a dark curtain between me and all these thoughts 
 and visions. Hence I am sometimes fearful, sad, 
 and heavy. 
 
 " ' I see fully the necessity and propriety of the 
 proposed journey, but I doubt his strength and ability 
 to encounter the fatigue and trial inseparable from 
 it. Chiefly I dread being absent from him when 
 heart and strength may fail, and I may only see 
 him again sinking into the grave, unaided, un- 
 strengthened, unblessed by his affectionate father. 
 Did I but know more of his mind, I might possibly 
 be more at ease ; but his reserve withholds from 
 me this consolation. 1 have made a gentle, and I 
 hope a considerate attempt to draw him out by a 
 little opening discussion of the sacrament. I start 
 for Cambridge at half-past four to-morrow. The 
 sight of that place will most acutely remind me of 
 the past as it relates to myself, connected with the 
 contingencies of the future as it may concern him. 
 I have many fears mingled with the hope of his 
 recovery. I feel very anxious from day to day. 
 May God overrule all these things for the good of 
 each of us. Give my love to all, and an especial 
 blessing to Willy. Your affectionate L. R.' 
 
210 FAMILY PORT K AIT URE. 
 
 " After it was decided that my brother should go 
 to Scotland, we were advised to send him there by 
 
 a sea-voyage, in company with Mr. . His 
 
 father was to follow him in a few days. He was 
 much depressed at this time. It was his first sep- 
 aration from the paternal roof, and his mind became 
 deeply affected when the parting hour arrived, and 
 when he was to bid farewell to his beloved mother, 
 to brothers and sisters, to domestics and neighbors, 
 endeared to him by every sweet and tender tie of 
 youthful affection ; to the homo of his infancy ; to 
 almost every person, place, and thing, with which 
 he had been accustomed to associate happiness ; the 
 agitations of his feelings increased the w^eakness of 
 his frame ; the conflict of his mind was visible in his 
 countenance ; he looked pale and languid ; a pain- 
 ful contrast to the usual smile which played on his 
 countenance. On the morning of his departure he 
 was very silent. He looked on us all as we stood 
 around him, and with tears in his eyes he stepped 
 into the carriage. During the interval of separation, 
 my father corresponded with him,* and was very 
 earnest to draw from him a more unreserved com- 
 munication, and to satisfy himself more thoroughly 
 of the reality of Wilberforce's piety, of which he 
 entertained some doubts, amidst many hopes : but 
 my brother avoided the inquiry of his anxious and 
 distressed parent. The voyage agreed well with 
 him. In the course of a fortnight my father and I 
 followed him into Scotland. We met Willy as wo 
 entered the Firth of Clyde in a steamboat. He 
 
 * See letter in the Memoirs, pp. 5'21~528. 
 
LATTER DAYS OF WlLBERFOKCE. 211 
 
 looked much better ; his spirits were good, and the 
 meeting between us inspired reciprocal feelings of 
 hope and joy. 
 
 '' For a while Willy's health seemed to be im- 
 proved, but we soon discovered that there was no 
 material amendment. For a few weeks he was 
 buoyant in spirit, and apparently restored ; then 
 the hectic fever flushed his cheek, he grew weaker, 
 and he again sunk into depression. Our dear pa- 
 rent, who at that time did not understand the hope- 
 less nature of the complaint, watched over his 
 wasting child amidst intense anxieties, increased 
 probably by the uncertainty of the issue in his own 
 mind. It was not a temporary separation which 
 alone affected him, though even this is a grief 
 heavy to bear ; but the least apprehension of losing 
 forever one we love, fills the soul with the bitterest 
 anguish. It is impossible to be sincere yet calm 
 under such circumstances, while any hope remains, 
 or any help can be administered. A holy violence 
 of feeling and effort, best discovers the integrity of 
 our principles. There was much in Wilberforce to 
 love and admire. His disposition was very amiable. 
 The usual results of a religious education were visi- 
 ble in him ; he showed every outward respect for 
 religion ; strictly observed its forms and duties, and 
 admitted the theory of doctrinal truth ; but this did 
 not satisfy our dear father. He knew full well that 
 it was very possible to do what was right in the 
 sight of God without a perfect heart, — ^to cleanse 
 the outside of the platter, or beautify the sepulchre, 
 while all within might be impure ; inasmuch as the 
 
212 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 speculative approval of truth is distinct from its 
 sanctifying influence. Accustomed as our parent 
 had been to contemplate the infinite worth of an 
 immortal soul, — soul in this instance given to him 
 by God to train for eternity, — it was impossible 
 that he should feel otherwise than intensely anxious 
 while he entertained any doubt of its salvation. It 
 was this uncertainty which so greatly disturbed his 
 peace and injured his health. Wilberforce seemed 
 shut up in impenetrable reserve ; he shrank from 
 personal conversation on religious subjects, though 
 his thoughtful and often depressed countenance ex- 
 hibited traces of inward conflict, and need of help 
 cUid comfort. He afterwards deeply regretted his 
 silence, and said, ' It was a device of Satan to re- 
 tard my progress in vital experimental piety.' Our 
 dear parent carried this trouble to God, and 'rolled 
 his sorrows on him' who alone could help him. For 
 many months he was sorely tried on this point. But 
 God, always faithful and true, heard and answered 
 his prayers more abundantly than he could ask or 
 think. ' A vehement suitor cannot but be heard of 
 God, whatsoever he asks ; if our prayers want suc- 
 cess, they want heart ; their blessing is according to 
 their vigor. '^'' The following letters were written 
 to Mrs. R. about this period. 
 
 " ' My dear love, 
 
 " ' Here we are in something like an earthly par- 
 adise, if beauty, sublimity, and diversity of scenery 
 may constitute one. The air is most salubrious, 
 
 * Bishop Hall. 
 
LATTER DAYS OF WILBERFORCE. 213 
 
 the rides delightful. I am glad to say the country 
 agrees well with Wilberforce, who is stronger and 
 in better spirits than I could have expected. He 
 varies occasionally, but suffers little at any time. 
 There is certainly an improvement. The northern 
 experiment has so far answered that it has cheered 
 his spirits and afforded him recreation and change 
 of air. I have frequent hopes of his amendment. 
 We have therefore reason for gratitude, whatever 
 may be the inscrutable designs of providence. My 
 mind reposes with thankfulness on the goodness of 
 God, amidst a thousand anxieties respecting my 
 dear boy. We are constant companions, and have 
 much Christian intercourse together. Not only 
 do prospect-scenery, geology, botany, ships, rocks, 
 mountains, braes, and ordinary occurrences, engage 
 our notice : I have much satisfaction in seeing how 
 he enjoys these; but higher things are not forgotten. 
 We pass daily the hour after breakfast in religious 
 exercises. We are taking Mason's admirable trea- 
 tise on the Lord's Supper as a kind of text-book. 
 It affords me an opportunity of saying what I wish 
 to him, relative to his own personal interest in 
 spiritual matters. I trust we are going on usefully 
 and prosperously. I think I am in my right place 
 and employment, watchmg, instructing, nursing, 
 and giving myself wholly to the comfort of my boy 
 under his infirmities and vicissitudes. His cough 
 is troublesome twice or thrice in the day. He pur- 
 sues a bracing system, and a generous diet. To 
 what extent the disease may be preying on the vi- 
 tals, I dare not conjecture. His present state and 
 
214 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 appearance are certainly satisfactory, but the com- 
 plaint is variable and flattering, and I must rejoice 
 with trembling. Oh ! for a quiet, reconciled, pa- 
 tient, waiting mind I 
 
 " ' Our present beautiful retreat is doing me good 
 also, and I need it. My mind and nerves have 
 suffered a severe shock. I am conscious of the 
 benefit I derive. How long I may be permitted to 
 enjoy it God only knows. I would be thankful, 
 and receive grace and strength for the future. 
 
 " ' The weather is become very showery, but is 
 pleasant at intervals. These are days which affiord 
 the finest mountain effects, and in this part of the 
 Western Highlands they are truly grand. We had 
 a rolling tumbling voyage to Ardentenny. Dr. S. 
 seemed on the whole pleased with the appearance 
 of his patient. Dear love to my children. Tell 
 
 H we are surrounded by immense trap schis- 
 
 tus, and red sandstone rocks, with great variety 
 of form, substance, and arrangement. # * # 4^ 
 Much love from all ; from none more than your 
 
 '^'Legh.' 
 
 " ' My dear love, 
 
 " ' For a few days after our arrival here, Willy 
 was not so well. The last three days we spent 
 much on the water, and he is stronger and better 
 for it. Dr. S. thinks it a case in which a vigorous 
 pursuit of his bracing system may prove success- 
 ful, though he speaks with caution. The worst 
 symptoms are, the shortness of breath and debility 
 in ascendinc? stairs and short hills. But if the tone 
 
LATTER DAYS OF WILBERFORCE. 215 
 
 of the system can be raised, these symptoms will 
 diminish. His spirits rise and fall as he feels better 
 or worse. I asked Dr. S. what proportion of cases 
 had recovered under his treatment ; — he replied, 
 where it is regularly followed, half. Willy rests 
 much on the hope of amendment, and generally 
 replies to any inquiry after his health, I am better 
 I never leave him from morning to night. Dr. S. 
 is about five hours' sail from us. We spent a 
 pleasant day last Thursday with him in Lord 
 
 B 's family. 
 
 " ' I am inwardly struggUng and striving to be 
 calm and reconciled to God's will. I am going 
 through depths in the inward meditation of my 
 soul. When you write to Wilberforce, keep in full 
 view the uncertainty of human life, even without, 
 much more with, the certainty of disease. Patients 
 like dear W. are full of stronger emotions and dis- 
 posed to deeper meditations, as disease threatens a 
 nearer approach to eternity. General sentiments 
 and feelings are more easily preserved than the 
 special application of them to a particular case. 
 He is still very reserved to me, yet I perceive he 
 reads, and I think meditates on important subjects. 
 I find it a delicate and a difficult matter to pre- 
 serve the right balance between the state of his 
 spirits, vascillating, rising and falling with the 
 state of his disease, and a reasonable hope which is 
 not influenced by an earthly association. En- 
 deavor to draw out his sentiments and feehngs, 
 and desire him to keep a letter always on the 
 
216 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 stocks for you, — to write a little, day by day, till 
 the sheet be full. 
 
 " ' So you saw Lord B 's funeral pass 
 
 through Bedford. I could wish, for Christianity's 
 sake, that its open and acknowledged adversary 
 
 had remained in , where alone his life and 
 
 conduct seemed to have been doing good. To this 
 country his writings will be a lasting bane, and 
 must continue to injure religion so long as infi- 
 delity, blasphemy, and vice can obtain circulation 
 and popularity, when clothed and armed with the 
 splendor of great genius and talent. These con- 
 stitute the real objects of worship with many who 
 profess to be Christians. I entertain no doubt that 
 the adoration of an intellectual and poetical idol 
 may be as great a sin as falling down to the 
 golden image in the plains of Dura. Alas ! we 
 have seldom seen true piety and true poetry 
 united ; but genius and vice have been too often 
 associated in the annals of mankind. We have 
 need of due discrimination in our estimate of 
 characters, to be aware of the dazzling influence 
 of able corrupters and destroyers of virtue. 
 
 " ' You must only expect in general a few lines 
 from me, but I hope enough to convince you how 
 much T love and esteem you. Convey to the 
 people an affectionate pastoral message. The 
 
 same to Mr. ; cheer and encourage him in 
 
 my name. To my dear boys and girls give sweet 
 messages of love ; and for yourself accept a fra- 
 grant nosegay of pretty things from your own 
 affectionate, Legh.' 
 
LATTER DAYS OF WILBERFORCE. 217 
 
 " I do not think Willy vras fully aware of his 
 danger at this time, though from his reserve it was 
 difficult to ascertain his opinion of himself; and 
 his physician Vv^as afraid of discouraging him by a 
 disclosure of his real situation, as he considered it 
 of importance that he should expect recovery, and 
 cultivate cheerfulness of temper.^ 
 
 " Willy wrote a few letters during his residence 
 at Rothsay, of which the foUovv^ing are speci- 
 mens : — 
 
 ^^'Dear , 
 
 '• ' I am not inattentive or indiflerent to the kind 
 .solicitude you have expressed for me. I now ex- 
 perience what I have only heard before, that 
 nothing is more consolatory in sickness than to be 
 remembered by those we loved in health. I have 
 been very unwell since I saw you, and I once 
 thought I must have given up my former enjoy- 
 ments, my future hopes and prospects, even the 
 
 pleasure of seeing dear friends such as you, , 
 
 and all I held most dear on earth. I shall never 
 forget the pang which almost broke my heart at 
 leaving home, when I saw the tops of the houses, 
 and the church, and the fields, and the trees of my 
 
 * Disease and the methods of cure lie within the province of a 
 medical attendant, and under certain circumstances it may not be 
 proper to interfere with him. Yet when there is httle or no reason- 
 able expectation of recovery, there is a degree of cruelty in keep- 
 ing up a delusion, and inducing a patient to delay turning to God 
 till he cannot turn in his bed. It is unjustifiable on any principle 
 of reason or revelation. This practice maybe traced to an indiffer- 
 ence to religion, or an ignorance of its real character. — Editor. 
 
 10 
 
218 FAMILY PORTKAI.TL'Rf:. 
 
 native village disappear from my sight. I thought, 
 Perhaps I am looking for the last time on the scene 
 of my earliest recollections — my fondest and dear- 
 est enjoyments ; — but it was a moment of weak- 
 ness, and I fear it was mingled with a feeling of 
 repining. I had always been happy — too happy; 
 my heart was satisfied with this world, but God 
 was leading me by a path I know not, in which I 
 should find more certain and durable enjoyment. 
 I needed something to convince me of the empti- 
 ness of the world, and to lead me to fix my affec- 
 tions higher. I am now much better in health. 
 I do not look like the same person, and I hope I 
 am not presumptuous in anticipating another day 
 
 with you as happy as that spent at W a few 
 
 months ago. Perhaps you will think it a common- 
 place remark, if I express a wish for your company 
 at Rothsay. The situation is beautiful, but beau- 
 tiful as is the sea stretched now before us, and the 
 mountains and little romantic islands Vv'hich sur- 
 round us on all sides, need I say how much more 
 I should enjoy their beauty, were you here to enjoy 
 
 it with us ? I am glad to have deiu" with 
 
 me. We share our joys together, and think so 
 much alike about everj^thing. To have been 
 translated so suddenly as I have been, from our 
 Oat country to this mountaiiious region, seems like 
 being taken to fairy land. Neither description nor 
 imagination can do justice to Scottish scenery ; 
 but do not suppose that amidst all its charms I have 
 forgotten England. Oh x\o ! I more than ever love 
 the little blue hills of mv native country : the fer- 
 
LATTER DAYS OF WILBERFORCE. 219 
 
 tile plains, grassy meadows, waving valleys, and 
 elegant rusticity of the cottages in which we so 
 much excel the hovels of Caledonia. We have 
 here fine exhilarating mountain air, but the nights 
 are cold and bleak. I long to enjoy again an 
 Ens^lish summer evening^ — to recline as I have 
 often done on a bank warmed by the setting sun^ 
 to feel the balmy breeze which wafts the fragrance 
 of the flowers — to listen to the warbling strain of 
 the nightingale, and give way to the wanderings of 
 my imagination, which gave perhaps a delusive yet 
 fascinating sensation of pleasure to the fleeting 
 moment. 
 
 " ' I have sailed above a thousand miles on the 
 sea. I am beginning to like boisterous weather, 
 though I seldom escape the consequences. Adieu. 
 '• 'Yours, sincerely, 
 
 '•'W.' 
 
 " About this time my father began to prepare 
 Wilberforce to receive the holy sacrament for the 
 first time, and they used to retire together every 
 day after breakfast during our stay at Rothsay. 
 Willy listened to instruction with respectful silence, 
 and seeming acquiescence in the sentiments laid 
 before him: he appeared interested, and anxious to 
 be received into full communion with the church of 
 God, and was often observed to be in deep thought, 
 and sometimes gi'eatly depressed. His unwilling- 
 ness, however, to free communication rather in- 
 creased, and as his health was not materially im- 
 proved, his father's anxiety often amounted to agony, 
 
220 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 and he could not conceal the mental agitation which 
 afflicted him. He continued to weep and pray in 
 secret for his child's confidence. From Wilberforce's 
 conversations at a later period, and from letters 
 written about this time, unknown to his father till 
 after his decease, we learnt what had been the deep 
 exercises of his mind — that he was then earnestly 
 seeking the knowledge and enjoyment of God — 
 that eternal things were daily subjects of his con- 
 templation and inquiry, and that he also suffered 
 much from an insurmountable repugnance to make 
 known his feelings, his wishes, and wants. He 
 told us afterwards, that though he suffered more 
 from suffering alone, he seemed like one bound with 
 a chain, and could not venture to lean or place his 
 confidence on any human help. At this time he 
 wrote as follows : — 
 
 '' 'Rothsay. 
 *"My dear Mamma, 
 
 '"I was beginning to write to you when your 
 letter arrived. Very many thanks to yon for it. 
 It is impossible for me to say how much a letter 
 from home rejoices and relieves me, under the pecu- 
 liar circumstances by which I am separated from 
 it. The simplest thing which happens in Turvey, 
 becomes to me an object of interest. 
 
 " ' I am very sorry I should be the cause of anxi- 
 ety to you or to any one I love. I feel this thought 
 more than any pain I suffer in my body. Indeed, 
 I lament our separation as much as you can do. 
 This period is one in which I could have wished we 
 
LATTER DAYS OF WILBERFORCE. 221 
 
 might all have been together, but things do not fall 
 out as we would have thera, and it is best for us 
 that they do not. I wish to feel resignation in 
 everything. As for my illness, I trust I receive it 
 at the hands of God, and most firmly believe it 
 to be the greatest mercy he ever vouchsafed me. 
 My heart was engrossed by this world. My affec- 
 tions were not set on things above. I did not 
 sufficiently feel my need of a Saviour. Christ was 
 not my beacon-star to direct the future wanderings 
 of my life, but I looked to the false glare of human 
 ambition, w^hich would have led me to serve myself 
 rather than God ; now I have discovered the worth- 
 lessness of all my hopes and aims. I find that all 
 I have hitherto done is of no avail in sickness. I 
 have seen what earthly dependence is, — when the 
 world and all that is in it seems about to be hidden 
 from our view forever. I trust also I have known 
 something of the joy arising out of dependence on 
 Christ in the moment of extremity. I would ask 
 God's forgiveness for making less improvement of 
 his ' loving reproof than 1 ought to have done. 
 
 Remember me to Mr. and Mrs. G . I hope the 
 
 school is going on prosperously. T wish my class 
 to be told, that though far from them, I have not 
 forgotten them. I hope they are regular in their 
 attendance, and that if I return, I shall find them 
 all much improved. Oh ! if you knew how very 
 often I think of home. I did not know till now 
 how much I was attached to Turvey. I shall never 
 forget my feelings when I lost sight of our little 
 village. I was obliged to summon up every weak 
 
222 FAMIJ.Y PORTRAITURE. 
 
 and weary faculty to prevent my quite sinking un- 
 der the removal from it. * * ^ * 
 '' 'Your affectionate and dutiful son, 
 
 " ' Rothsay, September. 
 '' ' My dear Mamma, 
 
 "'Many thanks for your affectionate birth-day 
 letter. I shall always recollect my last birth-day, 
 for it was the first in which I felt melancholy. In 
 the full enjoyment of health and spirits, surrounded 
 by all I most loved, and by the companions of my 
 boyhood, those days were wont to pass away more 
 quickly and happily than any other. But as I 
 sailed pensively down the waters of Loch-lomond 
 on the 20th of last month, a day dark and gloomy, 
 and in unison with my feelings, I felt that I was 
 no longer in the spot where I had spent the former 
 anniversaries with those who shared and welcomed 
 my happiness. Yet I solaced the desolation of feel- 
 ing with the recollection, that though absent, there 
 were those who were thinking of me, and of this 
 your letter convinced me. ^^ ^ -^ ^ 
 
 We spent last Sunday at Greenock ; a day, I trust, 
 ever to be remembered by me, for on that day I was 
 admitted to the highest Christian privilege, the sa- 
 crament of the body and blood of our Saviour Jesus 
 Christ, ordained by him as a perpetual remembrance 
 of his precious death and passion. Oh ! that it may 
 be to me a sign and pledge of my admission to the 
 marriage supper of the Lamb in glory. I was very 
 much affected, and should have been quite over- 
 
LATTER DAYS OF WILBERFORCE. 223 
 
 come by the emotions ol" my own mind, if I had 
 not felt stronger and better than usual on that day. 
 Now that I am an outward member of the visible 
 church of Christ, may I daily prove myself to be 
 one inwardly, in spirit and in truth ; and whatever 
 portion of life God is pleased to allow me, I would 
 devote it to his service, and love him with my whole 
 heart, who first loved me. I wish another summer 
 was at hand, instead of another winter. I feel a 
 dread of the winter. There is already an autumnal 
 feeling here. The leaves are beginning to change 
 their lively green to more varied hues. Did the 
 fading leaf ever remind you of the decay of a Chris- 
 tian in this world ? Like the early tints displayed 
 by the unfolding bud, are the opening dispositions 
 of a young Christian. His active walk and conver- 
 sation resemble the healthy vigor of the full ma- 
 tured foliage and fruit. In the signs of withering 
 decay we see an emblem of his closing scene, v^^hen 
 he has arrived at the end of his mortal existence, 
 and sinks into a temporary suspension, to shoot 
 forth in a never-fading spring of immortal joys.' 
 
 " We spent the months of July, August and 
 September in the Isle of Bute, but as the season 
 advanced, we were advised to return home. Ap- 
 parently, there was little improvement in Wilber- 
 force'S health. Probably, from being constantly 
 with him, we had not noticed the gradual, yet real 
 increase of the disorder. He certainly considered 
 himself much better, and entertained hopes of re- 
 covery, and expressed great pleasure in returning 
 
224 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 to Turvey. We passed a few days, on ouv way 
 home, with some dear friends in Yorkshire, with 
 whom our father left us while he went to preach at 
 Bradford. His great anxiety for Willy's eternal 
 destiny appears by an interesting letter written to 
 him at this time.* 
 
 " My brother arrived at Turvey Rectory the 
 beginning of November, and was restored to the 
 quiet and peace of bis own family. Six weeks 
 elapsed with little or no alteration in his appear- 
 ance. In a letter which my father wrote to me at 
 this tiiTje, he says, 
 
 " ' Dear Willy is much the same. I wish he was 
 more confidential and communicative as to the real 
 state of his soul. Oh ! what would I give for one 
 voluntary conversation or letter, detailing the for- 
 mer and present history of what is passing in his 
 mind. I think well of it, and I hope it is comfort- 
 able ; but I want to know this from himself. Many 
 a secret tear does his silence cost me.' 
 
 " It was during the six months following his re- 
 turn from Scotland, that poor Willy's soul was so 
 severely tried. He never spoke of death, but he 
 must have been sensible of increasing inward de- 
 cay. He could not hide from himself or his family 
 the depression and anxiety of his spirit. He was 
 much alone, and when he returned from his closet 
 to his family, the signs of sorrow and the traces of 
 some deep mental condict were frequently visible in 
 his countenance. The Bible was scarcely ever out 
 of his hand, and after his return from the north, he 
 
 * Sec Memoir, page 528. 
 
LATTER DAY^ OF VVILBERFORCE. 225 
 
 seldom took up any other book, religious or liter- 
 ary ; which was the more remarkable, as his chief 
 occupation and delight had ever been in reading 
 authors on almost all subjects. He would now sit 
 for hours, and nearly whole days, over the Bible, ia 
 deep abstraction; he was still silent to all about 
 him, and it was sometimes more than my dear 
 father could bear, to witness the increasing uneasi- 
 ness pf his mind, and the sufferings of his body. 
 After so many ineffectual efforts to penetrate the 
 real state of his heart, our afflicted parent had but 
 one resource — to commit his child to God, in faith, 
 and under the pressure of his agonized feelings to 
 cry, ' Thou hast wounded and wilt heal ; hast broken 
 and wilt bind up again.' The following letters were, 
 I believe, the last my brother wrote. 
 
 '' ' Dear . 
 
 " ' I am afraid that you will conclude that our trip 
 to the north has cooled our affections, and frozen 
 them into indifference to former friendships. You 
 must think so no lonofer. * # # # 
 
 # # ^ 
 
 " ' I am now in that dear home which has some- 
 times been rendered still dearer by your presence. 
 I reflect on those hours with much pleasure, but the 
 remembrance is mingled with a feeling of melan- 
 choly. It is possible they may return; I mean 
 hours of the same delight : yet I must not forget 
 my gradual decline for the last six months. I am 
 now in a state in which a slight increase of disease 
 might prove fatal ; but I am hoping, always hoping ; 
 
 10* 
 
226 FAAnLY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 for hope is a symptom of my disorder, so I must 
 hope. I am no longer what you once knew me. 
 The glow of health and spirits does not now en- 
 liven my countenance, which looks, I believe, 
 rather sad ; yet I knov/ not why it should do so, 
 for I have lost only that which endureth for a mo- 
 ment, and if I obtain that which endureth forever, 
 the love and mercy of Christ, surely I have reason 
 to rejoice in the exchange. In Christ, and Christ 
 alone, I find peace. He will not cast me away. I 
 have thrown myself, as an unworthy sinner, at the 
 foot of the cross, and there in peace will I lay my 
 head, and, I trust, cheerfully resign my breath to 
 him wdio gave it. I used once to love the rose of 
 all the flowers the best ; but now it has left me, 
 and I turn to the lily, for it seems to betoken my 
 approach to a world of purity — nor have 1 any wish 
 for life, if Christ will receive one so unworthy. 
 From how much sin and temptation shall I make 
 my escape by an early death, and quitting these, 
 enter into a heaven of joy where there is no more 
 curse. I know that in very faithfulness God has 
 afflicted me ; — my chief sins were pride and ambi- 
 tion, and these have been the very means, at least 
 the chief cause of my disease. Proud of my tal- 
 ents, and seeking the admiration of men, I neglected 
 my health till it was too late to correct the error, 
 and now my dream of future happiness in this 
 world, and all my ambitious hopes, are fled. But I 
 would not exchange the humility of a Christian for 
 the phantom at which I formerly grasped. People 
 tell me I shall recover. There may be hope, but 
 
LATTER DAYS OF WII.BRRFORCE. 227 
 
 my own imjDression is to the contrary. Pray for 
 
 me, dear , and let a tear fall for the sins of 
 
 " ' Your affectionate 
 
 '' ' Jan, 4, 1825. 
 " 'Many, many thanks, dear mamma, for your 
 long and kind letter. I know you love me, and 
 think of me while you are absent ; and it is some 
 little consolation for your absence, and yet but 
 little, for I long for your return very, very much. 
 The house is dull without you, and I am dull; for 
 I am deprived of the society of one I hold most 
 dear. Do come as soon as circumstances will per- 
 mit. I would not press it, mamma, but I am not 
 nearly so well as when you left me. My spirits 
 are weak, and my appetite almost gone. * * * 
 I am glad that you wrote to me so openly and can- 
 didly on the subject of death. I feel my earthly 
 tabernacle fast wearing away, and every day 
 brings more occasion for solemn thought and seri- 
 ous reflection ; and now, dear mamma, having 
 said this, I know you will be very anxious to hear 
 something about the state of my mind. Just now 
 it is most unhappy. The thought has Ibrced itself 
 upon me, that I am not a child of God, but have 
 been deceiving myself with false hopes. My breast 
 heaving with anguish, and my eyes swollen with 
 tears too big to find a passage, would bear witness 
 to the agony of spirit I have endured this day. 
 But I have cast myself at the feet of my heavenly 
 Father, and have implored him by his mercy, by 
 
228 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 the love which led him to send a Saviour into the 
 world, by the death and intercession of that Saviour, 
 by the encouragements he has held out to sinners 
 to come unto him, and hy the help which he has 
 promised to all those who do so come — I have im- 
 plored him not to send me empty away. I have 
 not yet found comfort, but am looking and trust- 
 ing. He has said, Whom I love I chasten. I do 
 do hope this may be his dealing with me, and if so, 
 I shall be thankful for it. Amidst these conflicts, 
 I see, as it were, a light glimmering through the 
 darkness, which leads me on in hope. Oh ! 
 mamma, if you love your son, join your prayers to 
 his, that this light, this ray of hope, may increase, 
 and that he may have a sure and certain hope of a 
 joyful resurrection to eternal life. I thank you for 
 Miss Jerram's Memoir. I never read any book 
 with more interest. She had exactly the same 
 feelings I have, but God removed them in his own 
 good time ; and I derive a hope from her deliver- 
 ance, that I shall not be cast away. I will not think 
 it. I should deny his word — his promises. Sorrow 
 not, Mamma, that I must leave you, we shall not be 
 long separated. Two little ones are gone before me, 
 and will you not rejoice that God has been so 
 gracious to them ? They knew not the sin and 
 sorrow of the world. I have known both, and I 
 wish to encounter no more. Not one prayer have 
 I offered up for life ; but I have said, Lord give me 
 a converted heart, and do with my life as seemeth 
 thee best. I feel no desire for life. Do not think 1 
 want affection. The thought of parting with you 
 
LATTER DAYr« OF WlLBEllFORCE. 229 
 
 all is more than I can well bear, but God will give 
 me strength. 
 
 " 'You blame yourself for not having talked with 
 me on religious subjects. I am sorry to say you 
 would have found in me a backwardness wiiich I 
 was never able to overcome ; but now if you were 
 here I could talk most confidentially with you. 
 ^ * May the spirit of God rest upon you. 
 May he comfort you under present anxiety — may 
 he speak to your heart in future sorrows — may you 
 find joy in all your tribulations, and an earnest of 
 that rest which is prepared for the people of God. 
 I am, 
 
 '* ' Your affectionate W.' 
 
 " The last letter my brother attempted was to 
 
 Mr. , in Scotland. It was written under great 
 
 debility, and was left very unfinished. 
 
 " ' My dear brother, 
 
 " 'Forgive me if I write this letter in a very dis- 
 jointed style. I cannot write long together, and it 
 is difficult to resume thoughts once broken in then- 
 connection. Many thanks for your kind letler. 
 You need not have begun with excuses. You make 
 me anxious to have you with me — I want to un- 
 burden my heart to you. I wish to hear a voice of 
 comfort from you. I never could speak freely on 
 these subjects — I am sorry you found me so back- 
 ward to religious conversation, but I could not sur- 
 mount my repugnance — I found it impossible — I 
 was not near enough to death— I had not known 
 
230 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 trials and conflicts enough to overcome my reserve, 
 and induce nn^ to unbosom my thoughts and feel- 
 ings. But now that I am struggling for life, now 
 that I have experienced hours of mental agony, 
 which might often have been alleviated could I have 
 opened my heart, how much do I long to have you 
 near me. How confidentially, how freely would I 
 now converse with you.' 
 
 '' Hitherto Willy's decUne had been so gradual 
 as scarcely to be observed by those who were con- 
 stantly about him. He rode on horseback daily, 
 sat much with my father in the study, and appeared 
 to his family nearly as usual, except that an in- 
 creased anxiety was visible in his countenance. But 
 early in January, 1825, a considerable alteration 
 was apparent. He wasted rapidly — death was 
 evidently approaching. We were taken by surprise, 
 for our fears had been lulled asleep. My dear father 
 wrote as follows : — 
 
 " ' My dearest F., 
 
 '^ 'As I think more uncertainty hangs over the day 
 of your arrival than I wish, I write to hasten your 
 return. Dear Willy droops, he declines fast. He 
 misses you much, and often says he wants you. 
 Many symptoms increase my anxiety about him. 
 He is much weaker within the last few days. Come 
 to us immediately. We want another nurse. His 
 breathing is with difficulty and ])ain. His sleep and 
 appetite fail — his looks are pale and wan — his whole 
 frame is sinking — his mind seems very calm and 
 
LATTER DAYS OF AVILBERFORCE. 231 
 
 composed, but he still says nothing. I am per- 
 suaded that a great deal more has passed within 
 than we know of, and that of an excellent kind. 
 Peace and grace be with him and you, and with 
 '' ' Your affectionate father, 
 
 " ' L. R.' 
 
 " ' P. S. — Since I wrote the above, I have had a 
 very long, free, unreserved conversation with our 
 dear boy, most affectionate, and affecting, and close 
 to the great point. It is an immense relief to my 
 mind. He is to me an interesting mixture of anx- 
 iety and hope. His language sometimes resembles 
 that of your own letter ; at other times he can trust 
 more. Oh ! that I might see both my beloved chil- 
 dren, yea, all of them, living by faith on the Son 
 of God. By grace are ye saved, through faith, and 
 that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God. 
 
 ^' ' Willy's most distressing symptom is a kind of 
 suffocating feeling. We know not what this may 
 produce. You will not be surprised at my distress. 
 Do not wait for an escort, but trust providence for 
 a safe journey home. 
 
 " ' (Tuesday.) 
 '' ' You will be anxious to hear how the dear boy 
 is to-day. He is extremely ill in body, and exceed- 
 ingly well in mind — in a peculiarly holy frame. He 
 slept a little in the arm-chair last night, but his de- 
 cay is rapid. He wishes to talk with you on many 
 subjects. I hope he may have strength at intervals 
 to do so. His conversations with me have been 
 
232 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 most valuable and interesting : praised be God ! 1 
 am so comforted by my dear boy's unreserved com- 
 munications, that I frequently forget the pain of 
 parting. Who could be so selfish as to wish to stop 
 his journey to heaven ? Yet how trying to nature 
 is the idea of parting with him ! Well, under every 
 bereavement and separation from others, forget not, 
 
 my dear F , the use you may always make of 
 
 your father who loves you. You also have been too 
 reserved towards him, for he is indeed and indeed, 
 " 'Your own affectionate parent, 
 
 '''L. R.' 
 
 '' My mother was still at B , to which place 
 
 she had been summoned to attend the dying bed of 
 her own parent, and my father wrote to beg her re- 
 turn. 
 
 " 'My dear love, 
 
 " ' Our dear Willy's weakness has increased with 
 such unexpected rapidity within the last three days, 
 that I wish you to return home immediately. He 
 is exceedingly anxious that you should not delay an 
 hour in coming to him. Amidst my great anxieties, 
 I have the pleasure of telling you that the spell of 
 silence is happily broken between us, and he has 
 opened his whole heart to me. He is in a very 
 anxious but hopeful frame of mind. By our mutual 
 conversation of yesterday and to-day I am relieved 
 from a heavy burden. All the nameless pangs of 
 my mind, during the last eight months, have been 
 almost blotted out of my remembrance by my pres- 
 
LATTER DAYS OF WILBKRFORCE. 233 
 
 ent consolations. My prayers are answered at last, 
 the door of utterance is opened, and I am truly 
 thankful. Your mind as well as mine has long 
 anticipated the probable result of this sickness. 
 We must go to the strong hold for help, and we 
 shall not fail to find it. I am staying from church 
 to enjoy a Sabbath with our dear boy ; he has had 
 a very bad night, chiefly in the arm-chair, the fever 
 has been excessively high, and the pulse at the ut- 
 most. But take comfort from the state of his mind. 
 It is truly interesting. All its natural superiority 
 mingles with its spiritual characteristics. He that 
 once comforted you in your own dangerous sickness 
 will comfort you in the distress of your soul. Let 
 us trust God in overruling? all for the best. When 
 not oppressed by debility and pain, Willy's counte- 
 nance beams with sweet smiles of composure and 
 love. He often inquires when you may be ex- 
 pected. ^ ^ ^ Q[ my other feelings I can say 
 but little. No one but God knows all that has 
 passed in my heart for more than eight months, I 
 may say years, concerning Wllberforce, but God is 
 good and gracious. 
 
 " ' Most affectionately yours, 
 
 '^'L. R.' 
 
 " All reserve was now banished from my brother's 
 mind. He opened his whole heart to his father, 
 told him minutely of all his past conflicts, spoke of 
 his present comforts, and begged that he might be 
 closely examined. He wished to satisfy his parent 
 and pastor that his faith was scriptural and sincere. 
 
234 iwMii.v I'dKriLvrrmn:. 
 
 He sccnuul tu gi) bcyoiul his .sircn^lh in (V)iiV(M'siiig, 
 oven to extreme oxlianstioii, .iiul Mppciircil very 
 anxions to tell how (lod had cnlighlciicd, converted, 
 istrengthened and coinrorlcHl liiin. He would sit for 
 hours with his dear Tat her in the sludy, supported 
 in an easy ehair, telling liiin ail he had gone through, 
 entreating his ))ardon lor the uneaf^iness he had 
 occasioned hini hy hi>^ past silence, and expressing 
 his great joy at now bciii!^- ahle to converse with 
 freedom, and mingle Iheir souls logdlier in the de- 
 liglitful interchange! of eonJid(Mie(\ It was now 
 that our beloved fallitM- was indeed eoinlorted, and 
 that he received a full answer to patient prayer. 
 Kdilied, refreshed and sooth(;d by the holy lan- 
 guage of his child, his mind was supported under 
 the expected and long-tlri!aded });mg of ])arting. 
 These conversations, which wen; continued until 
 increasing weakness rendered them impossible, in- 
 duced my father to form tlu; resolution of writing 
 a memoir of Wilberforce, the imperlcct outline of 
 which is all that is left to us. T have often heard 
 my father and brother give the same opinion of the 
 reserve which occasioned so much pain on both sides, 
 and to which iVcMpient allusion has been made. 
 They considered it as CJod's way of dealing Avith a 
 peculiar state of mind — intended to luunble the 
 jiride of the understanding, juid silence a love of 
 argument. It was the Holy Spirit, as a sovereign, 
 conv(M-ting without human agency. Wilberforce 
 said, that lor mor(; than three months he had never 
 looked into any book but the Bible ; that (iod's 
 word had been his only study, and that amidst all 
 
LATVlAi IJAVS (Jl' WII.HKRFORCE. 235 
 
 liis jj.nxic1:y, ofu^i atrifnintiiig to fi<4ony ol" irjind, he 
 could find no relief, either from religious booUs or 
 religious conversation ; but was obliged to go to the 
 Bible for everything he wanted to know: — that 
 whenever he opened the Bible, he turned verse af- 
 ter verse into prayer as he read, and that in so do- 
 ing he felt a force, a sweetness and consolation pas- 
 sing all understanding — that though he knew he 
 had a father who loved biro tenderly, and was so 
 able and willing to instruct him and remove his 
 perplexities, he felt himself as one who was spell- 
 bound, and could not break silence — and so he re- 
 tired to his solitary chamber to weep and struggle 
 on in darkness — until the Holy Spirit became his 
 teacher, showing him the piercing spirituality of a 
 perfect law ; amidst conviction and terror of con- 
 science, leading him to the cross to seek for mercy 
 through him that was crucified upon it; and en- 
 abling him to receive the promises of free salvation 
 in Christ by his blood and righteousness unto justi- 
 fication. I have built, he would say, all my hopes 
 for eternity on God's word, which is unerring truth. 
 I have found peace there, and have been sealed by 
 the Spirit which indited that word, an earnest of 
 the heavenly inheritance. It was without human 
 aid, that I might give God the glory. 
 
 " I have mentioned to you some interesting con- 
 versations which passed at at this time between 
 Wilberforce and my dear father. The following 
 paper in my father's hand-writing, is the only one 
 sufficiently connected for insertion : — 
 
 '' Subject^ of conversation with me on f/'riday. — 
 
236 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 Warburton — examination of evidence — acknowl- 
 edgment of errors — God's reasons for taking him 
 away from the ministry — prayer — Christ's love — 
 God's way of humbling joride — infidel temptations 
 — on mere educational religion — his secret conflict 
 for four years past, between love of science and 
 love of religion. 
 
 "On Saturday he expressed a wish to see our 
 family surgeon ; ' Not,' said he, ' that I want 
 medicine, which will do me no good, but I wish for 
 his opinion of the progress of the disorder ; it will 
 be a great satisfaction to me to know, precisely, 
 how long he thinks I may live. My strength fails, 
 yet the symptoms vary very much.' The surgeon 
 arrived in the evening. Willy conversed freely 
 with him, and begged him to be open and (explicit. 
 
 Mr. saw clearly that he was now in the last 
 
 stage of consumption, and he was surprised at the 
 cheerful and unembarrassed manner with which he 
 discoursed on *his present situation. I left them 
 together for a few minutes. On my re-entering 
 the room, I was struck with his countenance, which 
 presented a mixture of calm and lively satisfaction, 
 as he was conversing with his medical attendant, 
 who on his return to the family spoke with great 
 feeling of his patient. He said, ' The danger is 
 imminent, though it is impossible to say how long 
 he may remain,' and added, ' I have scarcely ever 
 witnessed so much cheerfulness and composure in 
 any one in the prospect of deatii ; certainly never 
 in so young a person.' « # * # * 
 I returned to my son, who said that Mr. 's 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 237 
 
 visit had afforded much relief to his feelings. ' I 
 see what he thinks of my case, and. it was right I 
 should know it.' There was a union of thought- 
 fulness and serenity in his manner which affected 
 me exceedingly, but it filled me with gratitude 
 and thankfulness to \vitness in this well-ordered 
 and cairn state of mind an evidence of God's work, 
 and of a divine change. He observed, 'I have no 
 expectation of any advantage from medicine, but 
 it may palliate distressing symptoms. The great 
 Physician alone will regulate all for the best, both 
 for body and soul. Oh ! I w\ant to trust him more 
 and more !' 
 
 " In the evening, as we were sitting alone in the 
 study, I asked him whether he had read the book 
 I had put into his hands, and w^hether he had found 
 its contents satisfactory. Instead of giving any 
 direct reply to this question, he looked at me with 
 an earnest expression of countenance, and said, 
 ' Papa, do not be afraid ; I wish you to examine 
 me. I am anxious neither to deceive, nor be de- 
 ceived in respect to my spiritual estate. You can- 
 not be too plain with me.' I had been for a long 
 time past earnestly longing for a fall disclosure of 
 his thoughts, but his reserve had hitherto kept me 
 from all knowledge of his real state. In answer 
 to questions of a personal nature, he would only 
 reply, ' I hardly know what to say ; another time I 
 may tell better.' On religious subjects in general 
 he never refused to converse freely, but he shrunk 
 from every attempt at personal application. I 
 was therefore delighted when he thus voluntarily 
 
238 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 afforded me an opportunity of knowing the secret 
 state of his mind, for which I had long and most 
 anxiously prayed. I told him how much I had 
 wished to gain his confidence, and feared I had not 
 urged him to freedom of intercourse with sufficient 
 earnestness. ' Indeed, papa,' he said, ' the fault 
 was not yours. I have felt a backwardness, par- 
 ticularly of late, to disclose what was passing in 
 my mind, and had you pressed me more than you 
 have done to speak of myself, I believe you would 
 have failed to have obtained your object. But now 
 I feel quite at liberty to talk of myself ; and I first 
 tell you that I think I see God's design in keeping 
 me thus shut up from you. It was his gracious 
 purpose to teach me, in the privacy and solitude of 
 inward meditation, my state as a sinner, and the 
 nature of salvation by a Saviour ; here I learnt 
 the deep things of God, and now I would come 
 forth and tell you wdiat Christ has done for my 
 soul.' His countenance brightened as he uttered 
 these words ; a tear dropped from his cheek, and 
 his eye glistened with animation, as he said, 'I 
 have had great exercises of mind of late, but God 
 has been very merciful to me in the midst of 
 them.' 
 
 " And what, said I, are your present feelings, 
 my dear boy ? ' I feel, papa,' he replied, ' more 
 hope than joy. I have read of ecstacies in the 
 view of dying, which others have experienced, and 
 to which I am still a stranger ; but T have a hope 
 founded on the word of God, which cheers and 
 supports me. I know in whom I have trusted, 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 239 
 
 and I believe he will neither leave nor forsake me. 
 1 am not afraid of death ; but as I think my time 
 will not be long, I wish to put myself first into the 
 Lord's hand and then into yours, that you may 
 search and try me, whether I am in any error.' 
 Such an important moment was not to be neglected. 
 I received my child's confidence as an answer to 
 many an anxious and earnest prayer which I had 
 oiiered up to God, and I resolved to use it, as 
 affording an opportunity of peculiar interest to us 
 both. Satisfied as I had long been with the 
 general view of his religious and moral character, 
 strengthened by a discovery of many evidences of 
 inward principle, still, when I considered the near 
 approach of death and eternity — the value of an 
 immortal soul — the danger of spiritual delusion, 
 and my own immeasurable responsibility as a 
 parent, I resolved to leave nothing unsaid or un- 
 tried which would bring our hearts into mutual 
 repose on the great subject of salvation, and my 
 dear child's personal interest therein. 
 
 " I found his mind perfectly clear as to the great 
 principle of his acceptance with God, solely and 
 unequivocally through the death and righteousness 
 C'f Christ. In the most simple and satisfactory 
 manner he renounced all dependence upon every 
 word and deed of his own. ' It is,' said he, ' as a 
 guilty sinner before God that I throw myself on 
 his mercy. I have no excuse to offer for myself, 
 no plea to put in why God should not utterly de- 
 stroy me, but that Jesus died to save, to pardon, 
 and to bless me. It is his free gift, and not my 
 
240 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 deserving. Oh ! papa, what would become of me 
 if salvation was by works? What have I ever done, 
 and above all, what in my present state could I 
 now do, to merit anything at his hands ? God 
 forbid that I should rest on such a flimsy, fallacious 
 system of divinity, as that which ascribes merit to 
 men. I have no merit. T can have none. I have 
 long known this. I fear many trust in themselves, 
 and thus rob Christ of his glory. Is not this true 
 papa ?' 
 
 "Yes, my dear Wilberforce, many do deceive 
 themselves, and build for eternity on a wrong foun- 
 dation. But I have endeavored to impress on your 
 mind from your childhood, that salvation by grace, 
 an 1 not of works, is the peculiar feature of the 
 gospel of Christ ; and do you not now see that this 
 is the doctrine of the Bible ? 
 
 " ' Yes, papa, and it is because, after long and 
 repeated study of the Bible, I have found the doc- 
 trine there, that I believe, and am now comforted 
 by it. You will pardon my saying that the opinions 
 which I have formed, and the doctrines on which I 
 rest, have not been imbibed from the sermons I have 
 heard, or the books which I have read, but from a 
 close study of the scriptures themselves. I have 
 been accustomed to bring sermons and boolvs to the 
 test of the Bible, and not the Bible to them. You 
 cannot think what liglit and comfort I have found 
 in reading God's own word. I never found any- 
 thing like it from any other book.' 
 
 '' I particularly inquired into the history of his 
 mind for more than three years past, in reference to 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 241 
 
 those sceptical temptations which he had formerly 
 described to me ; and whether he had been lately 
 tried by the same doubts and difficulties in respect 
 of the truth of the scriptures. '• Never,' replied he ; 
 * no, never. From the time to which you allude, 
 I have felt the most perfect reliance on the word of 
 God ; and by much reading of it, and praying over 
 it, I have been so confirmed in my persuasion of its 
 divine origin, as not to have had my confidence 
 once shaken since that period. I have been tried 
 deeply in other respects, but I have never again 
 varied on that important question. The book of 
 God, by God's blessing on its contents, has proved 
 its own heavenly character to my understanding. 
 How thankful I feel for this !' 
 
 " A flush frf hectic fever occasioned at this mo- 
 ment a short period of debility, and he paused for a 
 few minutes. He soon resumed his affecting con- 
 versation, and said, ' I am not ignorant of my be- 
 setting sin. It was the pride of the understanding. 
 I always loved to examine thoroughly into the 
 grounds of an opinion before I received it, and gen- 
 erally, though not always, to be deliberate in com- 
 ing to a conclusion. This habit has often made me 
 appear over-confident in what I said, and I know 
 you have felt and lamented it. I do entreat your 
 forgiveness of any instance of my folly which has 
 hurt and grieved you.' Then he added, ' The rec- 
 ollection of it has greatly humbled me ; I trust I 
 have seen my fault, and have not applied in vain to 
 the blood which cleanseth from all sin.' 
 
 " I asked him what had been his views of the 
 
242 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 ministry in case God had spared his hfe. He re- 
 plied, ' You know, papa, it has always been my 
 wish and expectation to be a clergyman, and with 
 this view I have sou2:ht to attain various kinds of 
 literary knowledge. I have very often prayed to 
 God to fit me for this office, and I have thought 
 much of the doctrines I should have to preach to 
 others. But I can see a reason why God has put 
 an end to these intentions and prospects. He is 
 removing me out of this life, and does not permit 
 me to enter into the ministry, lest I should be 
 tempted, from the peculiar turn of my mind, to 
 seek the honor and praise of men in my ministra- 
 tions, more than God's glory, and the salvation of 
 sinners. I think I can see both wisdom and good- 
 ness in this dispensation.' 
 
 " I remarked that the same God who had con- 
 vinced him of his danger, could have humbled his 
 heart in a variety of ways, and prepared him for the 
 service of the sanctuary, without endangering his 
 safety ; and doubtless would have done it if he had 
 seen good to have prolonged his life. ' Such dis- 
 coveries of your own heart, my dear boy, are evi- 
 dences not only of what God can do, but a pledge 
 of what he would have done for you.' ' True, 
 papa, but if he is pleased to humble me in the val- 
 ley of death, may it not be safer and happier for 
 me ? The Lord's way must be the best way.' 
 
 " He then adverted to another subject. ' I have 
 been much occupied of late,' said he, ' in thinking 
 of man's natural depravity, and the deceitfulness of 
 the human heart. I have discovered it in many 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 243 
 
 things in which we are apt to overlook or make ex- 
 cuses for it. I am sure I have no ground of hope 
 except I stand with St. Paul, and cry out, I am the 
 chief of sinners.' I referred to a conversation which 
 I once had with an individual who objected to an 
 application of that expression to himself, and said 
 it was intended only to describe the peculiar cir- 
 cumstances of St. Paul. ' Then I am sure,' re- 
 plied Wilber force, ' that person could not have been 
 rightly convicted of guilt in his own conscience. I 
 do not know what the critics may say on such a 
 passage, but I am quite satisfied that when the 
 heart is opened to itself, the expression, chief of 
 sinners^ will not appear too strong to describe its 
 character. I have often heard you say, papa, that 
 the view of religion which most hono.rs God, is that 
 which most debases the sinner, and most exalts the 
 Saviour. I never felt this to be so true as at the 
 present moment.' 
 
 "His pallid but intelligent countenance, as he 
 said this, seemed to express more than he could 
 find words to utter. He paused a while and con- 
 tinued, ' What a comfort I find in this conversation 
 with you I It is such a relief to my mind ! and I 
 am very thankful for it.' My own heart was too 
 responsive to that of my beloved child, not to re- 
 echo his own sentiments. I knelt down and re- 
 turned thanks to God for the consolation afforded 
 to us both, and prayed earnestly that he would con- 
 tinue to us the same holy interchange of kindred 
 spirit and feelings. 
 
 " In another conversation my dear boy expressed 
 
244 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 great satisfaction at the remembrance of the prep- 
 aration for the Lord's Supper, while we resided in 
 the Isle of Bute the preceding summer ; a prepara- 
 tion carried on for several weeks before he first re- 
 ceived that sacrament in the Episcopal Chapel of 
 Greenock. He observed that in his daily opportu- 
 nities of reading and conversing with me, he could 
 seldom express his thoughts with freedom, though 
 he deeply felt the importance of the subject before 
 us, but 'I shall always feel thankful to you, papa, 
 for the diligent and affectionate manner in which 
 you instructed me. I love that book of Mason's. 
 I shall never forget that day at Greenock Chapel. 
 I was greatly comforted. You preached from Isa. 
 Iv. 1; "Ho! every one that thirsteth, come ye to 
 the waters ; and he that hath no money, come ye, 
 buy and eat ; yea, come, buy wine and milk, with- 
 out money and without price." — I did indeed thirst 
 
 for the waters of salvation. Poor Charlotte B 
 
 was there also. Her unexpected death affected me 
 much.' 
 
 " ' What were your thoughts,' I said, ' when you 
 wrote those lines in her album the night before you 
 parted from her ?'* 
 
 " ' I thought them,' he replied, ' very suitable to 
 my own feelings, but I little thought she was to 
 realize the sentiment before I did.' ' She has joined 
 
 * It matters little at what hour of the day 
 
 The righteous falls asleep. Death cannot come 
 To him untimely who is fit to die ; 
 The less of this cold world, the more of heaven ; 
 The briefer life, the earlier immortality. 
 
 MiLLMAN. 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 245 
 
 her father in a better world,' I said. ' Yes, and 
 may I soon be with them ! but God knows best, 
 and I wish to commit myself into his hands, for life 
 or death.' He then sunk for a while into his chair, 
 and dozed. When he awoke he began again to 
 converse. ' But, papa, papa, do you indeed think 
 I am on the right foundation ? I cannot bear the 
 thought of being deceived; but I do think Christ 
 loves me too well to cast me away, and that I may 
 say, Faithful is he that has promised^ who also 
 will do it. I love God. I love his word, I love his 
 ways. 1 love his people, though I feel so unworthy 
 to be counted one of them. Surely such feelings 
 as these do not fit me for hell.' An indescribable 
 look of animation pervaded his countenance as he 
 uttered these words, and bespoke the love, faith, 
 hope, and sincerity of his heart, too plainly to be 
 mistaken. 
 
 " ^ If,' he continued, ' God meant to destroy me, 
 would he have shown me these things ?' 
 
 " ' I am persuaded not,' I answered. 'Manoah's 
 wife has proved a comforter to many, and I rejoice 
 that her argument for the merciful designs of God 
 prevails with you.' 
 
 " ' I am now fatigued, and must go to bed,' said 
 he. ' Pray with me, and then good night I' 
 
 " Having the assistance of a much-valued friend 
 to undertake the public services of my church, and 
 feeling great anxiety to avail myself of this oppor- 
 tunity to devote myself to my son in his critical and 
 alarming state of health, I remained at home with 
 him the whole day. Although much oppressed by 
 
246 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 the rapidly-increfising progress of disease and con- 
 sequent debility, yet he was able to engage in some 
 interesting and very important conversations at 
 intervals during the day. He was carried into the 
 study about eleven o'clock. At his breakfast he 
 expressed a hope that there were many now 
 engaged in prayer for him in the congregation 
 assembled for divine service. ' I should love to be 
 in the midst of them, but I cannot be now. It never 
 will be in this world. What a comfortinsf consider- 
 ation, papa, that wherever two or three are gathered 
 together in his name, Christ has promised to be 
 present with them. Do you not think he is here?' 
 I replied, ' I cannot doubt it, my dear boy. It is 
 one of the most consolatory views of the word of 
 God, not only that he is constantly present with 
 every individual believer, in every place, and under 
 every circumstance, but he is also especially present 
 with all such, however great or small their number, 
 who unite together in acts of worsliip and religious 
 intercourse. He is alike present at this time with 
 our friends in the church, and with you and me in 
 this room. May God give us grace to realize this 
 and be thankful.' 
 
 '' Soon afterwards, while the servant was remov- 
 ing the breakfast things, I was stirring the fire, as he 
 complained of the cold ; and a short silence ensued. 
 He said presently, with a playful smile, * I was 
 thinking, while yt)u stirred the fire, how much easier 
 it is to rake the ashes from the grate than to get rid 
 of sin from the heart ;' and then relapsing into a 
 grave look, he added, ' how often the ashes of sin 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 247 
 
 deaden the flame of religion in the heart.' This 
 remark — originating in an aj3parently casual in- 
 cident — led to a close conversation on the nature of 
 sin, and the difficulties with v/hich a Christian has to 
 contend in his conflicts with indwelling and inbred 
 corruption. I was much struck with his deep ac- 
 quaintance with the exercises of his own heart, 
 and with the gospel plan of salvation, which he 
 evinced as he continued to dwell on this subject. 
 I rejoiced to observe in him a personal and practical 
 application of the grand truths of revelation to his 
 own heart ; the result of much pra3^er and medita- 
 tion, and reading of the sacred volum.e : his inmost 
 thoughts were thrown into our discourses, which 
 manifested a power and demonstration of the Spirit 
 of God far beyond what I ever anticipated. The 
 reserve which had caused me so much solicitude 
 was entirely removed. With a sweet and endear- 
 ing freedom of heart and tongue he expressed him- 
 self so openly, and with such sincerity, as filled me 
 with gratitude, and rendered me for a moment 
 insensible — comparatively insensible — to the pang 
 of bereavement which was soon to be undergone. 
 To possess such satisfactory evidences of my child 
 being an heir of glory, that my temporary loss 
 would prove his eternal gain, and the hope that we 
 should one day meet in the presence of God to part 
 no more, cheered my spirit and tranquillized my 
 mind, under an affliction otherwise insupportable. 
 
 " I was making a reference to some expressions 
 in the seventh chapter of the epistle to the Romans, 
 on the nature and character of St. Paul's own ex- 
 
248 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 perimental acquaintance with the truths which he 
 enforced on others, when I was summoned to join 
 my other children at the dinner-table. I told him 
 mv absence would allow him a respite from the 
 fatigue of conversation, but that I would soon 
 return to him and resume the subject, and begged 
 him to seek repose for a little while in his own arm- 
 chair. This appeared to me the more necessary, 
 as I had observed an evident and painful struggle 
 between the debility of his frame and the anima- 
 tion of his thoughts. The hour of the afternoon 
 service arriving, I returned to my son, whom I 
 found with the Bible opened before him. He looked 
 at me with a smile, and said, 'Well, papa, I have 
 not been asleep. I have been otherwise employed. 
 I revived almost as soon as you left me, and as I 
 wanted to converse with you on the epistle to the 
 Romans, I have been reading through the first eight 
 chapters, whilst you were below, in order that I 
 might have this subject more clear in my recollec- 
 tion.' I was surprised and pleased to find that he 
 had strength sufficient for such an exertion, and I 
 reflect on the circumstance with greater interest, as 
 this was, I believe, the last time he was able to read 
 at all. 
 
 " He observed that he had purposely stopped at 
 the eighth chapter, because the apostle had there 
 seemed to make a division in his subject and argu- 
 ment. ' What a beautiful summary of doctrine 
 these chapters contain, papa ! I have thought on 
 them again and again. St. Paul lays his foundation 
 deep in the corruption of human nature, and shows 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 249 
 
 SO plainly that neither Jew nor Gentile has any 
 hope from works, but only from faith in Christ 
 Jesus. I have found great comfort from that view 
 of the righteousness of Christ, which the Apostle 
 declares to be the only wa}; of salvatio.n. There is, 
 there can be no other. We have no righteousness 
 of our own — all are under sin — every mouth must 
 be stopped, and all the world become guilty before 
 God. I have been at times perplexed about tiie 
 principle of acceptance with God, but now I see it 
 quite clear. With what earnestness does the apos- 
 tle labor to prove the vanity of all human depend- 
 ence. I have been thinking as I read these chap- 
 ters, how entirely the walk of a believer depends 
 on his faith in Christ, and how closely connected the 
 holiness, and the comfort, and the reliance of the 
 soul are with each other.' He proceeded to com- 
 ment on the fifth and sixth chapters, as a train of 
 experimental and practice reasoning deduced from 
 those which preceded them, adding, ' But the 
 seventh and eighth chapters have been my delight. 
 I have found my own case so exactly and so clearly 
 described in the seventh, and have been so much 
 comforted by St. Paul's description of his own feel- 
 ings about sin and Christ, as I can never express. 
 And then the eighth crowns the whole. Oh, what a 
 chapter is that ! Every word has given me instruc- 
 tion, strength, and comfort.' I here said, ' And 
 can you make an inward application of the latter part 
 of that chapter to yourself ?' ' Indeed, papa, I hope 
 I am not deceiving myself, but I do think I can — it 
 lifts me up with such hope and confidenoe, the lan- 
 11# 
 
250 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 guage is so sublime, and the doctrine so convincing. 
 It sometimes seems too much for a sinner like me 
 to say ; — but all things are possible with God, and 
 he whom God saves, has a propriety in all things.' 
 He then went through the whole subject of the 
 chapter, making a variety of sensible and solid 
 remarks upon it, and entreating me to examine him 
 as to Ills personal application of these glorious and 
 gracious truths to his own heart. After he had 
 made some animated observations on the conclud- 
 ing part of this chapter, he said, ' But now I want 
 to add one sentence from another part of the 
 epistle to wind up the whole, and that is, " Oh ! the 
 depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowl- 
 edge of God I how unsearchable are his judgments, 
 and his ways past finding out I For who hath known 
 the mind of the Lord ? or who hath been his coun- 
 sellor ? or who hath first given to him, and it shall 
 be recompensed to him again? For of him, and 
 through him, and to him are all things: to whom be 
 glory forever. Amen." ' I shall ever retain a vivid 
 recollection of the tone of his voice, and the sparJc:- 
 ling look of his eye, which accompanied the utter- 
 ance of these words. He became immediately 
 much exhausted — the difficulty of breathing in- 
 creased — the fever ran very high — he bent over the 
 table and fell into a doze, which lasted half an hour. 
 He gradually awoke, and I observed him to fix his 
 eyes on a globe of water which stood near the 
 window, and contained a gold fish. I inquired 
 what he was looking at so earnestly. He replied, 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH HIS FATHER. 251 
 
 * I have often watched the mechanical motion of our 
 gold and silver fish in that globe. There is now only 
 one left, and that seems to be weak and sickly. I 
 wonder which of us will live the longest — the fish 
 or T?' He paused, and then added, 'That fish, 
 my dear papa, is supported by the water in the 
 vessel, but I hope I am supported by the water of 
 salvation. The fish will soon die and live no more ; 
 but I am upheld by the water of salvation, I shall 
 live forever.' 
 
 " His remark led me to make some observations 
 on the practical use which may be made of natural 
 objects, and the advantages of cultivating a habit 
 of seeking something of God and the soul every- 
 where, and of accustoming the mind to seek such 
 comparisons and allusions as tend to improve and 
 delight it. Wilberforce observed, ' This is the very 
 principle exeraplifi.ed in our Lord's parables, and in 
 all the figurative language of scripture.' At this 
 moment a gleam of light from the setting sun shone 
 upon the gold fish, and produced a brilliant reflec- 
 tion from its scales, as it swam in the glass vessel. 
 ' Look,' said he, ' at its beauty now.' ' So, my 
 dear boy, may a bright and more glorious sun shine 
 upon you, and gild the evening of your days.' ' I 
 hope,' he replied, ' although I sometimes feel a cloud 
 and a doubt pass across my mind, that in the even- 
 mg-time there shall be light, and then in his light 
 I shall see light.' 
 
 " Thus the gold fish furnished us with a kind of 
 parable. It so happened that the fish survived my 
 
252 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 son two or three weeks, but I never afterwards 
 saw it without a lively recollection of the conversa- 
 tion to which it gave rise ; and the ideas associated 
 it still mingle with the cherished moments of his 
 latter end," 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " How calm their rest ! 
 Night dews fall not more gently on the ground, 
 Nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft." — Blair. 
 
 *' From this time my brother kept his room, be- 
 ing too weak to be removed to the study. He sat 
 up during a part of the day in his arm-chair, and 
 conversed with his father in the same strain of ele- 
 vated piety. His mind was at times strong and 
 vigorous, full of faith, rejoicing in the prospect of 
 death, his heart trusting in God, — then trembling, 
 and leaning on his spiritual guide, who watched 
 over him with the overflowings of tenderness, grat- 
 itude, and love, while his dying son besought him 
 to probe his inmost sonl. My father, when with 
 us, usually preserved a dignified composure ; speak- 
 ing little, and with tears ; pouring forth his soul 
 in the family devotions ; and seeming to say, ' He 
 will soon leave me, but blessed be the name of the 
 Lord.' 
 
 " I returned to Turvey on the 10th of January. 
 My father met me in the hall. He wept much as 
 he told me there was no hope of Willy's life ; but 
 he soon recovered himself, and said tliat the agony 
 of bereavement was forgotten in the blessed thought, 
 that he had trained up a child for glory. He then 
 
254 
 
 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 took me up stairs, where I found the dear invalid 
 in a chair before the fire, looking very pale and 
 emaciated, but with a countenance full of peace 
 and love. His eye glistened as I entered. He 
 leaned his head on my shoulder, but was too deeply 
 moved to utter a word. He continued silent- a long 
 time, and scarcely spoke or answered the usual in- 
 quiries of affection. In the evening he revived, and 
 seemed disposed to converse. I asked if he could 
 view the approach of death without fear. 
 
 " ' Yes, dear F , I have no wish to stay one 
 
 day longer on earth, but I must not be impatient. 
 Lord Jesus ! come quickly I If it be thy will, I 
 would not linger here, but I pray for patience. Ah I 
 
 F , how I long to be free from this poor body, 
 
 and see my Saviour's face. You can never know 
 how I long for this, till you also have heaven in 
 view. I know in whom I have trusted. He will 
 save me, for he has promised, and he never changes.' 
 He then fell into a kind of stupor, murmuring dis- 
 tinctly, ' Christ the sinner's hope.' When he awoke, 
 the fever was very high, and his mind seemed to 
 wander. My father entered. Ho looked up and 
 said, ' He fights hard and I fight hard, but Christ 
 fights harder.' He began to pray aloud, struggling 
 for strength and thought, and entreating God that 
 he might not be given up to delirium, of which he 
 had a great dread, and then he praised and blessed 
 God for giving him strength to offer another prayer. 
 
 "I sat up with him the greater part of the night. 
 He once startled me with the energy with which 
 after a long silence he cried out, ' I know in whom 
 
■vvtlberforce's life concluded. 255 
 
 I am trusting. I know he never yet left one soul 
 that trusted in him. I will not doubt.' He passed 
 a painful night, with alternate fits of fever and shiv- 
 ering. He continually expressed a fear that the 
 fever would occasion delirium. He felt his time so 
 precious, that he could not bear to lose a moment 
 by insensibility ; he exclaimed with the utmost ve- 
 hemence, ' O God ! most merciful ; — O God ! do 
 not afflict me with the greatest of all evils — in- 
 sanity. I long to glorify thee in my death. Can I 
 glorify thee in delirium, when I know thee not ? 
 Yet not my will but thine be done.' 
 
 "About five o'clock on Wednesday morning he 
 said, ' Now call up papa, and ask him to come and 
 talk with me. 1 feel as if I should have much to 
 suffer to-day, and I want him here, that I may call 
 up some comfort and strength.' He came imme- 
 diately. I retired, and did not hear their conversa- 
 tion. My father has more than once told me of the 
 interesting subjects of their discourse, but I am 
 afraid to trust to recollection at this distance of 
 time. I again regret that my beloved father did 
 not live to fulfil his own intentions. I extract from 
 his very imperfect notes, what may possibly apply 
 to their present interview. 
 
 "'I read Hooker's death to him — substantial 
 calm on his mind, only interrupted for the moment 
 by disease — he told me of his grapplings with infidel 
 objections — of his weeping when a little child, at a 
 sermon I preached from Jeremiah.'* 
 
 * Jer. iii. 22. Return ! thou backsliding Israel, saith the Lord, 
 and I will not cause mine anger to fall upon you ; for I am mer- 
 cil'ul, saith the Lord, and I will not keep mine anger forever. 
 
256 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 '' After breakfast I returned to relieve my father, 
 who, amidst his daily sufferings, was not unmindful 
 of his family or his parish. ' I must work while it 
 is called to-day ^^ seemed to be the prevailing senti- 
 ment of his mind, and his beloved child's death gave 
 additional weight to the admonition, * what thou 
 doest, do with all thy might.' 
 
 " Wilberforce sat silent for some time, then 
 looked up and said, ' Come and sit close to me. 
 Let me. lean on you.' Then putting his arms round 
 me, he exclaimed, ' God bless you, my dear.' — He 
 was agitated, and ceased speaking. Presently he 
 said — ' I must leave you — we shall walk no further 
 through this world together — but I hope we shall 
 meet in heaven. Let us now talk of heaven. Do 
 
 not weep for me, dear F , do not weep, for I am 
 
 very happy ; but think of me, and let the thought 
 make you press forward. I never knew happiness 
 till I knew Christ as a Saviour.' He then exhorted 
 and encouraged me to study the Bible with perse- 
 verance. ' Read the Bible — read the Bible. Let 
 no religious book take its place ; — through all my 
 perplexities and distresses, I never read any other 
 book, and I never felt the want of any other. It 
 has been my hourly study, and all my knowledge 
 of the doctrines, and all my acquaintance with the 
 experience and realities of religion have been de- 
 rived from the Bible only. I think religious people 
 do not read the Bible enough. Books about relig- 
 ion may be useful, but they will not do instead of 
 the simple truth of the Bible.' He then spoke of 
 his regret at parting with us. ' Nothing convinces 
 
257 
 
 me more of the reality of the change within me, 
 than the feelings with which I can contemplate a 
 separation from my family. I now feel so weaned 
 from the earth, my affections so much in heaven, 
 that I can leave you all without a regret. Yet 1 
 do not love you less, but God more.' I asked him 
 whether his mind had been distressed for the last 
 few months at the thought of parting from us, — for, 
 knowing the strength of his affections, I fancied he 
 must have suffered much in subduing and control- 
 ling them. ' Oh I my dear F , the pain, the 
 
 agony I have felt, when I said to myself, I must 
 leave them all. You will never know what bitter 
 hours I have passed ; — none but God knows what 
 it cost me to break those ties which bound me so 
 strongly to earth. Never, never will you know 
 what I suffered, as I looked at you all, and felt my 
 strength declining, and remembered it must soon 
 be a last look. I thought this must be the bitter- 
 ness of death ; and even after I had found accept- 
 ance and peace with God, I still suffered deeply in 
 the prospect of separation, and never supposed I 
 could willingly part from my family. I knew that 
 God would support me, and carry me through this 
 trial ; but a trial I felt it must be to the last; — and 
 yet, see me now in the immediate prospect of part- 
 ing. I am quite happy, and can leave you all with- 
 out a tear. I know God can unite us all again ; 
 and I can trust him here as I can in everything 
 else. Now this change must have been effected by 
 God. It is so evident, I cannot mistake it. I could 
 not have acquired this composure myself, God has 
 
258 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 done it, but I have suffered much in the process.' 
 He always appeared comlbrtcd when he heard 
 that any one had prayed for him, and frequently 
 entreated those about him to pray, but he used to 
 add, ' Do not pray for my life, but that I may have 
 
 comfort in death.' I w^as writing to W , and 
 
 asked him if he had any message to send. He said, 
 ' They have been very kind to me, but I am too ill 
 to think of them.' Afterwards seeming to recollect 
 himself, he said, ' Come and hold my head while I 
 try to remember them ; I would send some mes- 
 sage. Tell dear M that I am suflering very 
 
 much, but I can and do rejoice in my sufferings, for 
 every pain is bringing me nearer to heaven. 1 shall 
 not see her again in this world;' here he seemed 
 quite exhausted. After a while he revived a little. 
 
 ' I want to say something to dear Mr. W , you 
 
 told me he had been praying lor me. I wish him 
 to know how much I have been comforted by this — 
 how grateful I feel to him. Tell him how much I 
 value his prayers, and that they have been an- 
 swered ; for Christ is now precious to me. Through 
 him the fear of death is taken awa3^ I want to 
 tell him more. If I can I will to-morrow, but say 
 this.' He now became exceedingly ill; he breathed 
 with great difficulty ; he panted for breath, and his 
 struggles were distressing. The sufferings of his 
 body affected his mind, and he seemed to lose his 
 comfort and confidence in Christ. He cried out 
 many times, ' Oh ! pray for me, pray for me, pray 
 for me. This is hard to bear ; how different the 
 pains of death are from any other. It is such a 
 
wilberforce's life concluded. 259 
 
 struggle to get free.' He appeared to suffer much 
 in his mind. My father said, ' My dear boy, Christ 
 is still with you. Where he once fixes his love, he 
 never takes it away. You may not see him just 
 now, but he is not the less near to you. Nothing 
 can, nothing shall separate you from Christ.' Willy 
 cried out, ' And did not he say, " My God, my 
 God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" ' Then he 
 twice repeated, ' For a small moment have I for- 
 saken thee, but with great mercies will I gather 
 thee.' ' Oh ! papa ! — what shall I do — I am suffer- 
 ing so very much !' ' Not one pang too many, my 
 child,' said his weeping father, while the big tears 
 rolled down his cheek. ' 1 know it, papa,' he an- 
 swered, 'I believe it, I feel it.' He continued in a 
 state of suffering nearly the whole day. Towards 
 evening he sank into a sort of lethargy. He seemed 
 scarcely to know anything that was passing. About 
 eleven o'clock at night my father read the 23rd 
 Psalm, and prayed with him. He was able to at- 
 tend, and it seemed to cheer him. He was better 
 in the morning, and had much comfortable conver- 
 sation with his father throughout the day. Mr. 
 G came to see him. Willy wished to con- 
 verse with him. He was fearful at first, and ex- 
 pressed some doubt of his salvation ; but Mr. G 
 
 encouraged him by his remarks. He assured him 
 that Christ would never give up a soul who had 
 fled to him for refuge. Here Willy interrupted 
 him, ' I believe it, yes, I believe it. Christ has 
 brought me thus far, and he will not leave me. He 
 has said, " Whosoever coraeth unto me, I will in 
 
260 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 no wise cast out." I feel now quite certain that 
 Christ will save me.' He then adverted to his love 
 for us, and the parting with us. ' We have been 
 a happy family; — so closely united I Every two 
 of us can say, how dearly we love each other. 
 Our love has been more than common — I think we 
 shall be a family of love in heaven. Two of us are 
 in heaven already, and there will soon be a third. 
 Oh, I feel persuaded we shall meet again.' Mr. 
 
 G proposed to read a chapter in the Bible. 
 
 Willy said he could listen, and Mr. G chose 
 
 parts of the last two chapters of the book of Reve- 
 lations. He appeared greatly refreshed. His face 
 beamed with joy while he listened to the sublime 
 and glorious description of the new Jerusalem, and 
 anticipated the moment of his own entrance into 
 the holy city, to go oat no more forever ; when he 
 should join the melody of the heavenly choir, and 
 make one of the countless throng before the throne 
 of God. ' Glorious things are spoken of thee, O 
 city of God.' After a short pause, he said to Mr. 
 
 G , 'Tell me about the song of Moses and the 
 
 Lamb, my memory is failing. Repeat it to me.' 
 
 Mr. G repeated from Rev. xv. ' Great and 
 
 marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty ; 
 just and true are thy ways, thou King of Saints. 
 Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy 
 name ? for thou only art holy ; for all nations shall 
 come and worship before thee ; for thy judgments 
 are made manifest.' 
 
 " Mr. G took leave of him, and some time 
 
 after his departure, Willy said, 'Mr. G 
 
261 
 
 seemed sent to bring the close of the Bible to be 
 the consolation of the close of my life. It is sin- 
 gular that he should have fixed on those chapters, 
 for I have read them so often ; again and again in 
 my hours of sorrow, longing, prayer, but not daring 
 to believe I should ever be admitted to that glorious 
 company ; how have I wept over them !' 
 
 " Mr. F. paid him a visit, and Wilberforce was 
 very earnest in pressing him to examine the state 
 of his mind, saying ' I would neither deceive nor 
 
 be deceived.' Mr. F replied, 'You are now 
 
 too much exhausted for conversation ; I have heard 
 from your papa the state of your mind, and I am 
 quite satisfied with his opinion of you, for our ideas 
 of true conversion are the same.' 'Yes,' said 
 he, ' but I would rather you should examine for 
 yourself, — I want you also to search me.' 
 
 "He asked Mr. F whether the feeling of 
 
 assurance was necessary to salvation. ' I do not,' 
 he said, 'always feel alike; sometimes when ill- 
 ness overpowers me, my comfort is gone, and I am 
 afraid that after all I shall perish ; but I know that 
 in my darkest season I still love my Saviour above 
 everything.' 
 
 " ' My dear Wilberforce,' said Mr. F , ' you 
 
 cannot have a more able counsellor, in your per- 
 plexities, than your affectionate father, and your 
 very weak state inclines me to be brief. Our re- 
 ligion may be explained in few words, at least as 
 far as it is necessary to your peace and safety. 
 You must have a title to heaven, and a meetness 
 for its enjoyment ; you need not now trouble your- 
 
262 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 self on other points. The title is Christ's merits. 
 Do you rest on them alone for acceptance with 
 God?' 
 
 " ' Oh yes ; I have no other hope or trust. If I 
 have confidence or comfort, I get it only there.' 
 ' Well, then, the next thing is a meetness for 
 heaven. If any man belong to Christ he has the 
 mind of Christ ; he is a new creature ; religion is 
 his life as well as his peace.' 'Indeed, indeed,' 
 he replied, ' I do love Christ ; I long to be where 
 he is, to dwell with him forever.' ' Then all is 
 safe, Wilberforce ; I am quite satisfied that he 
 who has worked the one in you, has procured the 
 
 other for you.' ' But your eye, Mr. F , your 
 
 eye looks as if it doubted of me.' ' No, my dear 
 Wilberforce, I am not doubting ; I am looking on 
 you with a deep interest.' 
 
 " Mr. F went away with a promise to see 
 
 him again in a few days, but my brother died be- 
 fore the time fixed for another visit. 
 
 " He slept for some time, and then suddenly sat 
 up in his chair with apparent ease ; he breathed 
 freely, spoke distinctly, seemed free from pain, and 
 his countenance looked satisfied and happy. I was 
 quite surprised at the change, and said, ' My dear 
 Willy, you seem much better.' ' Yes,' he 
 answered, ' I am much better. This is a precious 
 moment, and now I hope I shall be able to talk to 
 you a little. This is an answer to prayer, dear 
 
 F . I have much longed to glorify God in 
 
 my death, and ever since last Sunday I have been 
 praying for one hour of ease and strength to speak 
 
263 
 
 to you all for the last time, and tell you what I 
 now think of religion. Hitherto you have seen me 
 so overpowered by disease, that you could not 
 judge of my comfort and confidence in my princi- 
 ples. Bat God has granted my request, and I will 
 glorify him.' He then began an interesting con- 
 versation, and spoke with astonishing ease. He 
 was very plain and sincere. He told me kindly of 
 faults and errors which he had observed in me ; 
 and he endeavored to correct them, and encouraged 
 me from his own experience to persevere in striving 
 
 against them. ' My dear, my very dear F ,' 
 
 he said, ' I hope we shall meet in heaven. I could 
 not talk to you in this calm manner, if I did not 
 believe we should meet again. But you have much 
 to learn — much to do before you can get there. 
 There is but one road, and without an entire dedi- 
 cation of the heart to God, you cannot walk in it.' 
 He spoke of the dangers of a religious education ; 
 of having the form of religion, while the heart w^as 
 still unchanged, and the will unsubdued. He 
 spoke also of what he called sentimental religion, 
 telling me how easy it was to write in beauti- 
 ful poetic language without any real feeling of 
 heart ; and he mentioned some instances where re- 
 ligion was but a bright fiction of the imagination ; 
 and others where it proved itself a transforming 
 principle in the life and conduct. ' My dear sister, 
 be a real disciple — be in earnest. You will want 
 heart religion when you come to die — the "poetry 
 of religion" w^ill not do then ;' — reminding me of 
 some letters I had written to him. He again 
 
264 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 recommended to me most earnestly the constant 
 study of the Bible. ' Here,' he said, ' I speak in 
 a peculiar manner from recent experience. For 
 the last three months the Bible has been my sole 
 instructor. It has gradually led me on to clear 
 light and real experience, till every promise is my 
 own. I have read the greater part of it through 
 several times during my illness — and often on a 
 Sunday, when I have spent the day alone, I have 
 read the whole of the New Testament, unable to 
 leave ofl' till I had grasped all the mind of the 
 Spirit at once. Perhaps papa has thought I read 
 too few religious books — he has looked anxious at 
 my neglect of many he put in my way. I do not 
 give myself in this respect for an example, but I 
 have found little benefit from books, sermons, or 
 conversations. The Bible, the Bible alone has 
 taught me everything. If I read books on religion, 
 however excellent, the thought always haunted 
 me — This is human — it may be wrong. I could 
 not rest till I went to the Bible. Here I felt all 
 was divine and infallible; and I found such comfort 
 in the simple truth of God's word, that I set aside 
 every other book, dissatisfied. I may bo earnest 
 then, in pressing you to go to the Bible.' 
 
 " He then said, ' But you must pray over the 
 Bible — without the teaching of the Spirit it will do 
 you no good ; you must apply it as you go on to 
 yourself, and feel it personally, or you will get no 
 benefit, though you stand the whole day over it. 
 I have been in the habit of reading the Bible on my 
 knees, and I recommend you to do the same. It 
 
wilberforce's life concluded. 265 
 
 encourages prayer. I have found it very useful to 
 turn Scripture into prayer, using the very words. 
 There is not a psalm I have not turned into a 
 prayer. I have felt so safe in making prayers from 
 the Bible, because then I knew I could not err ; and 
 let prayer always be preceded by self examination ; 
 lay your heart bare before God ; indulge not even 
 a doubtful feeling ; one secret sin will cloud all.' 
 
 " I had marked the depression of his spirit when 
 the symptoms of his disease appeared more unfa- 
 vorable, and I asked him if he had any fear of death 
 now. He answered me with great firmness — ' No, 
 not any. I have unshaken confidence in Jesus as a 
 Saviour. He has taken away the sting of death, 
 and for his sake the Father will receive me as his 
 child.' I replied, ' You had, dear Willy, great 
 doubts of your salvation, and many fears of death 
 during some periods of your illness.' ' Oh ! yes, 
 indeed I had ! I liave been on the verge of despair, 
 and have known its agonies. My pain of body 
 was at times very great, but nothing in comparison 
 with the agony of my spirit. I struggled on in dark- 
 ness and in silence. It was known only to myself 
 and God, but I was supported and carried through 
 all, and now I would encourage you, my dearest 
 sister, by telling you what succeeded in my case. 
 I will tell you just what I did. After a season of 
 much doubt and terror, during which I felt as if all 
 was delusion, and I should be cast into hell, I de- 
 termined to go at once boldly to God, in the name 
 of Christ, and plead the promises which were then 
 before me in the Bible. I fell down upon my knees 
 
 12 
 
266 FAMILY PORTRAlTUIli:. 
 
 — I groaned — I wept — I prayed most fervently — I 
 said, Here I am, Lord, a poor perishing sinner — 
 my sins are heavy and alarming — I cannot bear 
 them myself — I feel my body decaying — I must 
 soon die, and I dare not appear before Thee, the 
 pure God, as T now am. I read of a Saviour thou 
 has provided for sinners, and I come to him to be 
 saved from eternal death. I come to the cross of 
 Christ — I cling to it as my only hope. If thou, O 
 Christ will not save me, no one else can, and I 
 must perish. Lord, save me — Jesus ! have mercy 
 on me ! I persevered thus again and again — I j^ept 
 on praying in this way — I took nothing with me 
 but a broken heart, and a contrite spirit ; and I said, 
 '' Lord ! I will not go except thou bless me !" I 
 Ifnow I prayed sincerely, and I was heard and ans- 
 wered. I found that promise true, " Whosoever 
 Cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out." God 
 was good to me. My soul required severe disci- 
 pline, but he comforted me in his own time — ^I found 
 Christ able and willing to do all I required — I was 
 enabled to receive him as my complete salvation, 
 and I sometimes had such peace in believing on 
 him — such hours of unspeakable happiness, that the 
 remembrance of it makes up for all this suffering. 
 I never again lost my hope with Christ, though for 
 the moment my disease overpowered me and clouded 
 the past. Now I tell you all this for your encour- 
 agement and direction. Seek as I did, and you will 
 find the same pardon for sin, the same peace in 
 death.' We next talked about prayer. I told him 
 of the difficulties I felt. I remember well his eager 
 
wilberforce's life concluded. 267 
 
 look as he said, ' Not find comfort in prayer, dear 
 
 F ? It sounds like a strange contradiction to 
 
 me. It is my only comfort. When I am able to 
 pray, I am sure to be happy, and my prayer is that 
 I may have strength and sense to pray. But I 
 must remember how differently we are circum- 
 stanced — I am just entering eternity — I see every- 
 thing in a new light, as I never did before — as none 
 but a dying person can see. All my thoughts and 
 feelings are changed. I have not memory now to 
 recollect how I used to fee], when I first began to 
 pray. Perhaps I had the same doubts — my mem- 
 ory is gone. Oh ! how the Lord has humbled me — 
 I used to be so proud of my understanding. I can 
 now scarcely answer the simplest question.' Pres- 
 ently he seemed to gather strength, and said, ' We 
 were talking about prayer ; yes, all my comfort is 
 in prayer. There must be comfort in prayer. The 
 chief thing is to examine your heart. Ask God to 
 search it for you. Take care you are cherishing 
 no secret sin or hidden idol. God is a merciful God, 
 but he is a jealous God, and he will have the whole 
 heart. Only persevere in praying, and indeed you 
 will find comfort in prayer.' He then told me how 
 seriously it had been impressed upon his mind, that 
 his death was to be the lite of others. ' I think, 
 my dearly loved sister, it is for your good ; and will 
 not this thought make you more in earnest ? Oh ! 
 I would die ten painful deaths to save one soul I 
 We shall meet again in heaven. Now come and 
 kiss me, and let me lean upon you.' He rested a 
 short time and said, ' Now send for H , I want 
 
268 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 to speak to her while my strength lasts.' His con- 
 versation with her was very searching, but very af- 
 fectionate. He loved this sister very dearly. She 
 was naturally volatile and buoyant in her spirits, 
 and this disposition sometimes betrayed her into 
 levity. The liveliness of her conversation had of- 
 ten pleased him, but he now thought he had en- 
 couraged her in some things inconsistent v/ith real 
 piety. He was earnest beyond his strength in con- 
 versing with her. He put very plain and close 
 questions, saying, ' I must be answered ; — I must 
 speak plainly ; — I am afraid, my beloved sister, you 
 do not think enough about religion. I do not see 
 decided proofs of real conversion in you. I have 
 not a sure hope, that if you die as you now are, I 
 
 shall meet you in heaven. Oh ! H , it is my 
 
 last request — with my dying breath I am entreat- 
 ing you to seek the salvation of your soul. Sup- 
 pose you were in my place — in this chair instead 
 of me — waiting for death day by day — could you 
 meet it as I do ? Oh ! do, my dear sister ! do think 
 of death while you are in health. If I had not 
 sought Christ before I was brought so low, I should 
 have no strength or sense to seek him now. I went 
 to Jesus as a poor weak sinner, and found sweet 
 rest, and I am happy n&w amidst all this suffering.' 
 He spoke in a very affectionate manner of the sub- 
 ject nearest her heart. ' Your merry peal will 
 soon succeed my death-knell. Take care that the 
 good seed is not choked by the pleasures of life ! 
 
 Seek first the kingdom of God. Remember, H , 
 
 you have to die. Oh ! I cannot leave you in peace, 
 
wilberforce's life concluded. 269 
 
 unless I have a good hope that I shall meet you in 
 heaven. If I thought there was one amongst you 
 — oh ! I cannot bear that thought !' He contmued, 
 
 * H , there is nothing so opposed to religion — 
 
 to the mind of Christ — as levity and trifling. It 
 will keep you back more than anything. Take my 
 solemn warning— I speak from my own experience 
 — you will never be a consistent Christian, and you 
 will never grow in grace, if you indulge in habitual 
 trifling conversation. It is not like the mind of 
 Christ ; your temper is very playful and volatile, 
 and Satan may use it as a snare to injure your soul. 
 Piety and levity cannot long dwell in the same 
 heart. One will destroy the other. ^' ^ =^ ^ 
 
 You see, dear H^j , I am very plain and sincere 
 
 I used to be so shy. But I do not feel afraid of 
 speaking my mind now. How little does one care 
 about the world and its opinions when death is near; 
 death takes away all reserve. I care not if the 
 whole world were assembled around me — I would 
 tell them what 1 now think of religion — I should 
 like to see many here, that I might tell them what 
 the Lord hath done for my soul.' He then sent for 
 
 H , his favorite brother and companion. Willy 
 
 was much affected. He seemed to say farewell to 
 
 H with deep emotion. He entreated him to 
 
 supply his place in everything — particularly in be- 
 ing a comfort to his father, and filling his place in 
 the ministry. On this latter subject he spoke much. 
 He said, ' From a child it has been my delight to 
 think of being a clergyman of the Church of Eng- 
 land ; but it is God's will to pass me by, and take 
 
270 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 you, dear H , and honor you thus. I resign 
 
 my place to you. Fill it faithfully.' Then turn- 
 ing to his father, he said, ' Give H a double 
 
 portion of your love. He is to fill my place, as well 
 as his own, to you. I make a transfer to him of 
 all the affection you have borne to me.' He paused 
 for breath, and then continued, ' We have loved 
 each other very dearly ; we always loved as brothers 
 amidst our little quarrels — did we not ? I love you 
 now more than ever, and I must talk to you about 
 your soul.' He addressed him in very plain lan- 
 guage, asking him questions. H seemed con- 
 fused and distressed, for there v/ere others present. 
 Willy said, ' Poor H , you feel shy on this sub- 
 ject — I used to feel the same oiye — I could not 
 speak once, but that reserve is all gone. I am not 
 ashamed to say what I feel now. You will feel as 
 I do, some day.' He then begged that all would 
 
 retire and leave H alone with him. No one 
 
 heard the conversation which passed between them. 
 He next sent for his younger brothers : — they wept 
 much as he addressed them. He spoke very touch- 
 ingly to his youngest sister, who was then a little 
 child. ' Would you like to meet poor Willy in 
 
 heaven, dear C , then you must love God. Pray 
 
 to God to make you love him, and to make you a 
 good child. Will you promise me one thing, my 
 
 dear C , that you will never go out of your 
 
 room in the morning till you have read a few verses 
 in the Bible, and prayed to God? If you do not 
 pray to God, you will not meet poor Willy in 
 heaven. I will give you a verse to think of when 
 
wilberforce's life concluded. 271 
 
 I am dead. " Suffer little children to come unto 
 me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom 
 of heaven." Say that verse to yourself every night 
 when you lie down.' 
 
 He sent for several people in the village to com.e 
 and bid him farewell. There was one old person 
 for whorrr he had a special regard. She had been 
 much with him in his childhood, and he used to tell 
 her, ' if he lived to be a man, and had a house of 
 his own, she should come and keep it.' He held 
 out his hand to her affectionately, and, alluding to 
 his promise said, ' I shall have no house in this 
 world, Nanny, for you to come and keep — but I 
 shall still have a house — a, house not made with 
 hands, eternal in the heavens.' His countenance, 
 as he spoke, assumed a singularly sweet and happy 
 expression — such a beaming look of love and joy, 
 that every one noticed it. The hectic flush glowed 
 on his cheek — his eyes sparkled with a peculiar 
 lustre — and the marble forehead was smooth and 
 placid. It was the parting loveliness of a body 
 irradiated by a soul full of meekness, calmness, joy, 
 and confidence. Instead of being exhausted by 
 such lengthened conversations, as we expected, he 
 seemed full of vigor, and rather refreshed. He 
 conversed a good deal with both his parents. 
 ' What a striking answer,' he said, ' I have had 
 to prayer ; God has allowed me time and strength 
 to speak to you all, and has so filled me with sweet 
 peace and joy, that I never could have conceived 
 there was such happiness to be known here.' He 
 then said, ' I should like the whole family to assem- 
 
272 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 ble round me, that I may look at you all together, 
 while I am so happy.' He then offered up a fer- 
 vent and touching prayer to God, blessing him for 
 his great goodness, and commending us to him for 
 salvation. He paused a moment and concluded, 
 'Lord! now lettest thou thy servant depart in 
 peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.' 
 
 " He remained in this happy frame of mind a 
 short time, when all seemed to pass away as a 
 dream : the fever returned — great suffering suc- 
 ceeded — his whole frame was agitated. At inter- 
 vals he referred to the past season of happiness, 
 and the recollection of it comforted him. He re- 
 peated what he had before said, several times, ' I 
 would go through all again for one such sweet 
 hour.' 
 
 " In the evening he was dejected by a dread of 
 delirium, and prayed earnestly that he might retain 
 his senses to the last, often exclaiming, ' I cannot 
 glorify thee in delirium.' He called this a happy 
 day, because he thought he had done good by his 
 faithful addresses. 
 
 "My father came to read and pray with him, 
 before he retired to rest. Willy said, ' I am too 
 tired to listen. I should like to dream of the past ; 
 papa, there will be no distraction in heaven.' 
 
 " Friday was a mournful day. My brother's 
 sufferings were greatly increased. He could find 
 no position in which to rest. He breathed with 
 difficulty, and at times seemed almost suffocated ; 
 and the soul, as if in sympathy with the body, be- 
 came full of doubt and terror. He called out in 
 
273 
 
 great agitation — ^ Oh ! pray for me — pray for me — 
 say something to comfort me.' I read him some 
 verses from the 23rd of Isaiah. He continued to 
 exclaim — ' Oh ! pray for me, pray for me ! I am in 
 great suffering.' I opened the Annals of the Poor, 
 and read to him the account of the Dairyman's 
 Daughter's last hours. He listened attentively, 
 and then repeated the words, ' The Lord deals very 
 gently with me, and gives me peace. It is not 
 dark, my Lord is there, and he is my light and 
 salvation.' He appeared a little more composed, 
 and I turned to the tract of Little Jane. I read 
 to him some passages. 'Ah!' said he, 'they got 
 safe through, and why not I ? I am glad, dear 
 
 F ■, that you thought of the Dairyman's 
 
 Daughter and Little Jane. They are just the 
 examples I want. They suffered much, but it 
 was not dark to them. Oh, death I death ! what 
 is it ? I have still to go through death — the dark 
 valley.' He sat for some time in silence, with his 
 head restinsj on tiie table. Thousrh he did not 
 speak, I could perceive that there was something 
 passing in his mind which shook his whole frame. 
 Suddenly with a wild expression of countenance, 
 and in a bitter tone, he exclaimed — ' Oh ! agony ! 
 agony ! agony ! agony ! I shall perish after all.' I 
 was much frightened, and went to call my father. 
 I told him Willy must be delirious. When my 
 father saw him, he said, ' Oh no ! this is not 
 delirium. I know exactly what he is passing 
 through.' He sat down beside Wilberforce, and 
 began to talk soothingly to him, but he refused to 
 12* 
 
274 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 be comforted. He still cried out with his whole 
 remaining strength — ' Oh agony I agony ! agony ! 
 Satan will have me after all. Papa, pray for me, 
 he tells me I shall be lost — he tells me my sins 
 will damn me. Oh, papa, this is agony I — all is 
 dark, dark — all gone — all lost — and has Christ 
 brought me thus far to leave me at last?' My 
 dear father was much overcome at this scene, and 
 struggled hard for composure. He repeated text 
 after text; and with apparent calmness, and in his 
 tender and peculiar manner enlarged on the faith- 
 ful love of the Saviour. He assured Willy of his 
 full persuasion that Christ's honor was pledged in 
 presenting his soul safe to the Father : that this 
 was the last attack of Satan : that he took advan- 
 tage of his bodily weakness, to distress, when he 
 could not harm him. But poor Willy seemed still 
 more agitated. The cold drops stood on his fore- 
 head — his look betrayed the deepest anguish, and 
 he shook with terror. ' Oh ! papa I what will be- 
 come of me,' he cried ; ' I am going into the dark 
 valley alone. Jesus has left me. It is all dark, 
 dark, dark. The rod and the staff do not support 
 me — Satan fights hard for me, and he will carry 
 me away at last.' His bodily sufferings seemed 
 quite forgotten, and were lost in the bitter anguish 
 of his mind, and he still continued to repeat, 
 * Agony — agony.' My dear father tried again by a 
 variety of arguments, and by a frequent appeal to 
 scripture, to support his desparing child, but in 
 vain. He seemed given up for a time to such 
 sharp and sore beset men ts as baffled all attemps to 
 
275 
 
 administer comfort. After a silence of some 
 minutes, and when he seemed nearly fainting, my 
 dear father solemly repeated, ' Simon, Simon, 
 Satan hath desired to have thee, that he may sift 
 thee as wheat ; but I have prayed for thee, that 
 thy faith fail not.' These were the first words that 
 made any impression on Wilberforce. He said, 
 'Ah I papa, I used to love those words, but they 
 are gone. I will try to understand them ; say 
 them again.' My father repeated the affecting 
 words of the Saviour to his tempted disciple. 
 Willy listened to them with intense interest. 
 When he heard the words, • but I have prayed for 
 thee, that thy faith fail not,' he exclaimed, ' Oh, 
 my dear papa, do you think that Christ is praying 
 for me ? Does he pray for me in this hour of dark- 
 ness, when I have no faith ?' ' Certainly, my dear 
 boy, I cannot doubt it. I am quite sure he is 
 praying for you at this instant. Take courage, 
 then. Do you think God will not hear Christ's 
 prayer ? ' Him the Father heareth always.' His 
 mind became a little calmer, but he still looked 
 uneasy, and replied slowly, ' Can I have been 
 brought to love him so, only to perish ? Can such 
 feelings as I have — such a hatred of sin, be fitting 
 me for hell ? No, it cannot be. Such feelings 
 could not exist in hell. He will save me as the 
 chief of sinners.' Presently he exclaimed, ' Jesus 
 has not left me. I see him again — more precious 
 than ever — my Saviour — my hope. How could I 
 distrust him — I am more than conqueror. Papa, I 
 feel safe — I am Christ's. Why did I doubt ? I 
 
276 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 am so strengthened. Dear papa, I can give you 
 no idea of the anguish of my heart. It exceeded 
 all I supposed endurable ; — I thought myself in 
 Satan's hands — it must have been such anguish as 
 this which made the Saviour cry out, " My God, 
 my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" I never 
 knew what suftering was before — I thought I was 
 lost.' ' And what do you now think ?' ' I have 
 great peace, firm confidence, — I am so strengthened, 
 papa, in my faith — so strengthened — hell shall not 
 prevail ; Christ has saved me — none shall pluck 
 me out of his hand. I should not be afraid to 
 grapple with this dreadful foe again — I should not 
 be afraid if Jesus were standing by' — and then, 
 shuddering at his own recollections, he added, ' But, 
 papa, I hope God will not see it necessary to try 
 me in this way again ; I hope not. It was indeed 
 a dreadful struggle.' ' Why say so V said his 
 father, ' it is possible God may see fit thus to try 
 your faith again. You see how he has supported 
 you — 2/ou have been the conquerer — why then 
 shrink ?' 
 
 '' ' Oh no ! I will not shrink, I could go through 
 it again if it were God's will — I could not see my 
 Saviour in that dark hour, but now I know he was 
 near me.' And then shuddering at his own words, 
 he added, ' but I hope it will not be necessary again 
 to try me thus.' 
 
 " This last sorrow attached him more than ever 
 to his father. He could not bear that he should be 
 out of his sight, and listened to every word which 
 fell from him, with the most grateful love and con- 
 
277 
 
 fiding simplicity. He truly hung upon his lips. 
 Never was there a more affecting sight, than to be- 
 hold this loving father, and no less loving son, now 
 blending every feeling and thought of their hearts 
 together, and so closely united in religious inter- 
 course, that they seemed as it were a twin soul. 
 
 " My father was obliged to leave Wilberforce for 
 a little while ; on his return, the latter looking up 
 with a smile said, ' Papa, I cannot pray now — I am 
 so very ill ; — but I have been praising.'' ' For 
 wliat, my dear boy ?' ' I have been blessing God 
 for giving me such a father : — when I can say no- 
 thing else, I can praise God for such a dear father, 
 to whom I can tell all, and w^ho helps me on to 
 heaven.' This was almost too much for my father ; 
 he could neither speak nor weep, he seemed ab- 
 sorbed in unutterable feeling — the fountain of tears 
 was dried up. 
 
 " Willy did not wait for a reply. ' I am sorry, 
 papa, I did not open my mind to you before, how 
 much happier I should have been, if I had done so. 
 I have now no reserve — I can tell you everything. 
 You are my friend and my guide. My dear, dear 
 papa, I do love you — you have so helped me in my 
 great trial.' 
 
 " In the evening he conversed with my father on 
 the bitter agony through which he ^ad passed in 
 the morning, with calmness and faith. Some one 
 present asked him what he thought to be the best 
 evidence of conversion — ' A broken heart and a 
 contrite spirit,' he replied. ' This is what I brought 
 to God, and it was the only evidence I could rely on.' 
 
278 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 *' The next day he expressed some impatience at 
 lingering so long, earnestly desiring that this might 
 be his last day, but he soon checked himself, and 
 prayed against a restless spirit. He sometimes cried 
 out, ' How long, how long ! when shall I be free I 
 How my spirit struggles to get away from this poor 
 weary body ! Papa, do you think I shall linger here 
 another day ? and without waiting for a reply he 
 said, ' but my times are in thy hands, O God — I 
 must die daily — I will patiently wait thy will.' He 
 called me to him, and gave me a copy of Miss Jer- 
 ram's Memoir. He said it had been of great use to 
 him, and that God's dealings with her had some- 
 times comforted him. ' We both passed through 
 great sorrows, but God comforted us both in his own 
 
 time. Read it, dear F ; I give you my copy — 
 
 I have no further need of it ; and may God bless it 
 to you.' He asked to have the 17th chapter of St. 
 John read to him, and remarked, ' How very plain is 
 the doctrine of that chapter. I wonder there should 
 be so much controversy about it.' 
 
 " ' What is to-morrow?' he asked. ' It is the Sab- 
 bath.' He seemed pleased, and earnestly begged 
 that the congregation might be requested to pray 
 for him in the church. On Sunday morning he 
 was much weaker, and his end was evidently fast 
 approaching. 'To a kind friend who had nursed him, 
 he said, ' How do I look now ?' She saw the 
 approach of death in his languid eye and pallid coun- 
 tenance. ' You look worse, master Wilberforce ; I 
 do not think that you can live much longer.' The 
 effect produced by her opinion was truly astonish- 
 
279 
 
 ing. His dim eye lighted up, all his features 
 assumed a new life, and turning to her, he said, 
 
 ' Oh, thank you, dear Mrs. G ; good news ! you 
 
 tell me good news. Shall I indeed be in heaven to- 
 day I' My father came into the room. ' Papa,' 
 said he, 'how do I look — am I altered?' 'No, 
 my dear boy. I see little difference in you.' He 
 was evidently disappointed. ' Do you see no differ- 
 ence V said he ; ' Mrs. G does. She made me 
 
 so happy. She thinks I may die to-day.' My father 
 sat with him the whole of the day, while we were 
 at church, and Willy asked him to read the service 
 for the visitation of the sick. He listened with 
 devout attention, and when it was ended he said, 
 * Oh, my dear papa, what beautiful prayers ! what 
 an affecting service ! it expresses my whole heart.' 
 
 *' He then said to his mother, 'I love to look at 
 you, mamma. I love to smile at you, but I want 
 to smile at Jesus.' He asked her to draw near, and 
 let him lean on her bosom. ' It is sweet to lean on 
 you, dear mamma, — but I long to lean on the bo- 
 som of Jesus.' He conversed with his father in the 
 afternoon for the last time. Reference is made to 
 this conversation in his papers as follows. 
 
 " ' Agony, — conflict, — triumph, — glorying in this 
 second struggle with Satan — expecting another 
 struggle — not fearing it. The enemy subdued, 
 bruised under his feet, Longing to be in heaven — 
 not able to form any idea of another world, yet full 
 confidence of being there. I know in whom I am 
 trusting — dreading to linger, yet bowing to the will 
 
280 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 of God. His joy in the prayers of the church for 
 him — Christ will save me.' 
 
 '' He had been accustomed to teach a class in the 
 Sunday school, and begged that his dying message 
 midit be written down and sent to the children that 
 evening. He had not been able to lie in bed for a 
 week, owing to the pain in his side, but on Sunday 
 evening he expressed a wish to be undressed and 
 put into bed, being inclined to sleep. He was 
 accordingly put into bed, and lay very tranquil and 
 comfortable. My father stood watching beside him 
 till he thought him asleep. He then went to his 
 study, as he afterwards told us, to pray that, if it 
 were God's will, his child might have quiet and 
 ease in his last moments ; for he much dreaded the 
 severity of a dying agony, which from the past he 
 thought probable. As he was going away he blessed 
 him, and looking at him as he lay, serene and beau- 
 tiful in his repose, he said, ' So he giveth his be- 
 loved sleep.' Willy opened his eyes on hearing 
 these words, and replied, ' Yes, dear papa, and the 
 rest which Christ gives is sweet.' These were his 
 last words. He immediately sunk into a long and 
 peaceful slumber. We were sitting near him. 
 
 Mrs. , his faithful nurse, stood and watched 
 
 beside him. We could hear distinctly every breath 
 he drew, and the least change in the sound was 
 perceptible. One or two breathings were slower 
 and longer, which made us get up and look at him. 
 He appeared as if slumbering very sweetly. There 
 was no alteration in his countenance, and we were 
 going to sit down again, when Mrs. said, 
 
281 
 
 ' Call your papa immediately.' We did. so, and he 
 came just in time to hear his last sigh. I think he 
 awoke from sleep but felt no pain, nor was sensible 
 of death. My father raised Willy's head upon his 
 arm, and contemplated it for a minute. The coun- 
 tenance looked placid, as if it had beheld the Sa- 
 viour's face in righteousness, and was satisfied. 
 My father pressed the lifeless body to his bosom, 
 and burst into a flood of tears, struggling with na- 
 ture's anguish. At length subduing his feelings, 
 he said, ' ?vly child is a saint in glory.' He bid us 
 all follow him to the study, that we might praise 
 God for his mercy and loving-kindness. He opened 
 the Bible and read the last two chapters of the book 
 of Revelations, and then knelt down and prayed 
 with us. Tt was a moment not to be forgotten. 
 Our dear father appeared so absorbed in the con- 
 templation of his child's entrance into heaven, and 
 its union with the spirits of the just made perfect, 
 as to be scarcely conscious of the presence of his 
 family around him. 
 
 "Between the death and the funeral of my 
 brother, my dear father's mind was often severely 
 exercised. Sometimes he would weep, and say, 
 ' All thy waves and storms are gone over me,' and 
 then, ' Precious in the sight of the Lord is the 
 death of his saints.' ' He giveth and he taketh 
 away, and blessed be his holy name.' He would 
 rise early in the morning to gaze on the peaceful 
 countenance of his departed child. We overheard 
 him giving vent to the mingled emotions of his heart 
 in the chamber of death. But he was comforted in 
 
282 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 tribulation, and he returned to his family, to soothe 
 their sorrows with the comfort wherewith he was 
 comforted of God. He said little, but his calm and 
 subdued spirit bespoke Christian resignation. He 
 used to teach us that disquiet was the result of 
 distrust, and we sa\v in his silent submission an 
 example of his own principle, that his heart trusted 
 in God. ' Though his hand be lifted up to destroy, 
 yet from that very hand do I expect salvation.'* 
 
 " A vault was opened for Wilberforce under the 
 chancel. An incident occurred which much af- 
 fected us, and which showed the pious and affec- 
 tionate sympathy of the people in the sorrows of 
 their pastor. The workmen had not completed the 
 vault till past eleven o'clock at night, when they 
 agreed to descend into it, and consecrate the place 
 which was shortly to receive our brother's remains, 
 by prayer. The sepulchre of the dead became holy 
 ground. They joined in praises to him who is the 
 resurrection and the life, and who has enlightened 
 the gloomy grave by his own presence. They con- 
 tinued in prayer till midnight, commending their 
 beloved minister to the grace of God — invoking 
 blessings on his family, and entreating that this 
 mournful event might be overruled to the increase 
 of religion in the parish ; — and may we not hope 
 that prayer was heard ? The subsequent state of 
 the village may be described as life from the dead. 
 In the morning of my brother's interment, my father 
 prayed with his family. I trust that the Spirit of 
 God poured out his special influence on the minds 
 
 * Leighton. 
 
WILBErforcb's death. 2SS 
 
 of those present. A friend afterwards observed, 
 ' This is the fervent prayer of a righteous man, 
 which availeth much. Can we doubt that it is 
 recorded in heaven, and will long be remembered 
 on earth.' 
 
 " From this time, our dear father gave himself 
 up to the work of the ministry with redoubled dili- 
 gence. The congregations were large and attentive. 
 He went daily from cottage to cottage amongst the 
 poor, warning, exhorting, comforting, and confirm- 
 ing the souls of the disciples in the grace of God. 
 He used to meet persons nearly every evening in 
 the week, for prayer and exposition of the Scrip- 
 tures. Many a heart in Turvey still glows at the 
 recollection of these seasons. There was a general 
 revival of religion both amongst old and young, and 
 scarcely a day passed in which some one did not 
 anxiously inquire, ' What must I do to be saved V 
 There might be in this excitement something that 
 was of a doubtful character, but there were cer- 
 tainly many real conversions, and a general and in- 
 creased attention towards religion, unknown at any 
 former period. My father seldom left his parish, or 
 saw any one out of his own family ; to whom he 
 became still more endeared, and for whose progress 
 and improvement in religion he manifested an 
 anxiety even to depression, and an earnestness 
 which impaired his own health. He had naturally 
 very high spirits, and was at times playful in his 
 conversation ; but now, though he sometimes smiled, 
 lie was ever thoughtful, pensive, and silent. He ap- 
 peared to be wounded by the least approximation to 
 
2S4 FAMILY POR'TRAITURE. 
 
 levity, and was continually pressing on us a more 
 serious apprehension of eternity. On one occasion, 
 when he thought we had indulged in a conversa- 
 tion too little in unison with the late event — he 
 made no remark at the time, but the next morning 
 I found on my table the following note : — 
 
 " 'My dearest Child, 
 
 " ' There is a degi-ee of relief to a tender spirit in 
 the communication of its thoughts and feelings. 
 The affecting scenes of this time twelvemonth have 
 scarcely ever been absent from my recollection even 
 for a moment. In the midst of our (perhaps too 
 great) hilarities, I have pictured to my imagination 
 Willy dying last week, and this week dead in the 
 house. Have we all felt and done as much as we 
 ought on this most affecting occasion ? Is the sa- 
 credness and solemnity of that interesting period pre- 
 served in our hearts ? Has the erection of another 
 tablet in the church sufficiently n:ioved our affections ? 
 Monday evening was a trying hour to my heart. 
 My poor Willy died on that day, and as on next 
 Sunday we buried him. Oh ! let you and I, my 
 
 much loved F , ponder these things in our souls 
 
 for good. Amidst the living, let us not forget the 
 dead. ^ ^^ ^ # 
 
 '"L. R.' 
 
 " My dear father for many years had been accus- 
 tomed to write pastoral letters to his parishioners, 
 which were read in the school-room to those who 
 chose to attend. The following address to them 
 was written soon after my brother's death. 
 
wilberforce's death. 285 
 
 '' My dear Friends, Neighbors, and 
 Parishioners. 
 
 " In the midst of my sorrows at the removal of 
 my dearly-loved child, I wish you to know that the 
 Lord supports me wonderfully. I cannot yet come 
 out amongst you, but I cannot be quite silent. I 
 have therefore desired my friend and fellow-laborer 
 to read this letter to you. I have preached the gos- 
 pel of our Lord Jesus Christ to you more than nine- 
 teen years, and through his mercy I have seen some 
 precious fruits of these labors amongst you, but 
 never have I witnessed a more beautiful or trium- 
 phant evidence that I have not taught, preached, 
 or lived in vain, than in the case of my dear son, 
 now a sharer of the Redeemer's glory in heaven. 
 Oh, what a call for praise, that he was not only my 
 natural, but also my spiritual child. Such was his 
 love to Christ, and Christ's love to him, that I am 
 lost in wonder, love, and praise. I am persuaded 
 there are many of you who feel deeply for me. 
 You can weep with me when I weep, and rejoice 
 with me when I rejoice. You have prayed for my 
 child. It was the delight of his heart to hear of 
 your love and sympathy, and he dwelt on the inter- 
 est you took in his welfare, to the very day of his 
 death. He was indeed a boy of no common mind, 
 and the Lord sanctified his great natural endowments 
 to his own glory. I feel more and more every hour 
 what a treasure I have lost ; but at the same time 
 I see more and more what a blessedness he has at- 
 tained. I have been watching him at home and 
 
286 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 abroad, with a parent's eye and a Christian's heart, 
 both for his body and soul, ever since disease fast- 
 ened on his frame last summer, and no one will ever 
 know what my anxieties have been during that 
 period. But I trust God meant all for my good. 
 The trial, severely as I have felt it, has shown me 
 more of myself, and more of my God. My prayers 
 for my dear child have been abundantly answered. 
 Blessed be God ! he was enabled to disclose his 
 whole heart to me, and to others, before he was taken 
 away. He conversed with many in a most useful 
 and edifying manner, exhorting them to prayer, faith, 
 and holiness. He could tell them all, that he knew 
 in whom he trusted, and could look at death with 
 perfect peace. Believe me, then, when I tell you, 
 that though I am greatly affected, and humbled in 
 the dust with a sense of sin and sorrow, yet that 
 my mercies are so abounding in abounding chastise- 
 ment, that I can, and do rejoice in tribulation. Oh ! 
 may it work patience, and patience experience, and 
 experience hope, and may hope make me more faith- 
 ful and diligent, that I be not ashamed of the gos- 
 pel in principle or practice, for your sakes as well 
 as my own. It is a great comfort to me now, as I 
 am kept from ministering to you for a season, that 
 you have one amongst you who preaches the same 
 truth, and in the same spirit. May our common 
 Lord and Saviour bless him, and you, and me to- 
 gether. I beg your prayers, at this season in par- 
 ticular, for me and mine. They are no longer need- 
 ful for my beloved son. Let them be transferred to 
 the surviving members of my family. Pray espe- 
 
wilberforce's death. 287 
 
 cially for those who watch for your souls — tliat we 
 may experience help and comfort in ourselves, and 
 dispense the word of life with more zeal and love. 
 Pray that there may be no divisions or wanderings 
 of heart amongst us — that we may be all of one 
 mind and judgment in the things which make for 
 our everlasting peace. Pray that the young children 
 may be brought up in the nurture and admonition 
 of the Lord. My dear boy sent them a message on 
 his dying bed, which was read to them a short 
 time before his believing happy soul entered into 
 rest. May the whole school "remember it for his 
 sake, and their souls' sake. God bless you all, my 
 dear friends. I cannot doubt, but that you will 
 bear me on your hearts to a throne of grace. 
 " ' Your affectionate Minister, 
 
 '' ' L. R.' 
 
 " When my father resumed his labors amongst 
 the people, he seemed to be aware of his declining 
 health, though he said nothing to the family. His 
 usual and only reply, when we expressed our fears, 
 was, ' I must work while it is called to-day. The 
 night Cometh when no man can work.' He ap- 
 peared moulded into the spirit of the Apostle, ' affec- 
 tionately desirous to spend and be spent in the ser- 
 vice of his flock, and to impart to them not only 
 the gospel of Christ, but, if it were possible, his 
 own soul also ; and the people caught the holy con- 
 tagion of his fervent zeal and love. There was be- 
 tween them an almost unexampled reciprocity of 
 
288 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 regard, and desire to glorify God, and walk humbly, 
 justly, and unblameably before him.'* 
 
 " You will receive with indulgence the overflow- 
 ings of my heart towards a father whose memory 
 is still cherished by his family and by his parish- 
 ioners, with the deepest gratitude, and I hope we 
 may add, with an unfeigned anxiety to walk in the 
 steps of his bright example, and meet him again in 
 everlasting glory. 
 
 "Believe me, my very dear Sir, 
 
 " Your affectionate and faithful 
 
 * 1 Thess. iv. 8. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Sure 'tis a solemn thing to die, my souL— Blair. 
 
 This only can reconcile us to the grave, that oiu' greatest hopes lie beyond 
 it. — Howe. 
 
 We proceed, with the same view of illustration, 
 to notice some particulars relating to the third 
 daughter of Mr. Richmond, who survived her father 
 only a year and a half. She also was the child of 
 faith and prayer, and equally the object of his ten- 
 der solicitude with the rest of his family. 
 
 I am not warranted to present her character as 
 an instance of high attainment in piety, but the 
 exercises of her mind during her last illness, suffi- 
 ciently disclose the salutary effect of a religious ed- 
 ucation, and wdiile we indulge the pleasing hope 
 that she has joined her beloved father in the man- 
 sions of the blessed, her case will afford additional 
 encouragement to the Christian parent, to sow in 
 his children's hearts the seeds of eternal life, which, 
 watered '' by the early and latter rain," seldom fail 
 to spring up and ripen to reward his labors, as oc- 
 casions arise in the varying circumstances and 
 events of life. 
 
 This amiable young woman "possessed an ex- 
 uberance of animal spirits and a turn for the ludi- 
 13 
 
290 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 crous, which was very difficult to be restrained 
 within the bounds of discretion, and gave her dear 
 father maoh anxiety.*'^" 
 
 A volatile temper is in all cases a grievous hin- 
 drance to intellectual and spiritual improvement. 
 Good conversation cinnot consist with the indul- 
 gence of "foolish talking and jesting," and the mind 
 is diverted by it from solid and useful pursuits. 
 We may attempt to excuse this cast of character, 
 and speak of it as a playfulness of temper ; but 
 after all, it cannot be approved. The disposition to 
 amuse ourselves with the defects or peculiarities of 
 others, may generally be traced to vanity in our- 
 selves, and is a habit of mind wholly inconsistent 
 with the spirit of humility and love, as well as a 
 sad forgetfulness of that solemn caution, •* Every 
 idle word that a man shall speak, he shall give an 
 account thereof at the day of judgment."! 
 
 There was not, however, anything cynical or 
 severe in the strain of this young person's conver- 
 sation. She was naturally frank, open, and kind- 
 hearted, and to (oblige another vras a real satisfac- 
 tion to herself. It was rather a thoughtless pro- 
 pensity, common to many young people, "to giggle 
 and make giggle,"! that I am lamenting, 
 
 It is difficult to speak of the dead so as not to 
 wound the tender feelings of the living, but when 
 it is required to portray character, the simple dec- 
 laration of the truth is best, and is indeed the only 
 course consistent with Christian integrity. She 
 
 * Extracted from Mrs. R.'s Irtter'to the author, 
 t Matt. xii. 36. -^ Cowprr's LetltTB. 
 
MEMOIR OF HIS THIRD DAUGHTER. 291 
 
 ^vbo forms the subject of my present remarks, af- 
 fixed a solemn seal to their truth in the affecting 
 review which she took of the past in her dying 
 hours. It is a source of much congratulation that 
 she is now beyond the opinion of man, whose im- 
 perfect knowledge renders him at all times incom- 
 petent to pronounce on his fellow creatures, and 
 should remind him of the danger of asvsuming a 
 prerogative he cannot claim. " Judge nothing be- 
 fore the time." 
 
 Mr. Richmond placed his daughter at school 
 
 at , where he expected the strictest attention 
 
 would be paid to her principles and conduct. I 
 have no reason to suppose that he was dissatisfied 
 with the care and vigilance of those to whom he 
 had entrusted his child ; bat whatever she had 
 acquired in other respects, it does not appear that 
 at the close of her education she had made any 
 advancement in religion. 
 
 About this time Mr. R. addressed the following 
 letter to her ; 
 
 " Dear H , 
 
 "And now comes your turn. Receive, read, 
 mark, and inwardly digest. I do not know how 
 much you are grown in stature, but I do hope you 
 are growing in wisdom. Then, whether you are 
 to be a woman tall, or a woman short, will signify 
 very little. You will, if your wisdom be of the 
 right kind, be of a tall mind and of tall attain- 
 ments, and we will call you the lit;tle woman with 
 
292 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 the great soul. I have heard of a person's soul 
 being so mean and small, that if you were to put it 
 into a hollow mustard seed and shake it well, it 
 would rattle. Now that is not the sort of soul I 
 wish to discover in you. I want to see a soul in 
 you which can embrace all useful and requisite 
 knowledge — a soul which can extend its energies 
 beyond ordinary limits — which can feel for all 
 around you, and carry its benevolent activity 
 throughout the universe — which can contemplate 
 
 the globe, such a one as you study at B , and 
 
 find new problems upon it — as how to carry the 
 gospel into all latitudes and all longitudes — how to 
 excite pity for the poor heathen in every zone and 
 climate of the world — how to equalize all nations 
 in the sympathy of Christian love, and thus make 
 a spiritual equator — how to estimate the coldness 
 of irreligion in the burning regions of the tropics, 
 and how to carry the lively heat of evangelical 
 charity into the districts of the poles. I would 
 have you capable of grasping all these questions in 
 your heart, with as much ease as your hands 
 would clasp a doll, or as mine would clasp your 
 your own dear self to my bosom." But why do I 
 wish that your soul may become thus capacious ? 
 Simply to this end — that you may thereby resemble 
 him who so loved the world, that he came into it 
 
 to save sinners ; yes, sinners, H , like unto 
 
 you. Have you ever thought of this great truth as 
 you ought ? Is foolishness still bound up in the 
 heart of my child ? Is human existence only to be 
 estimated by play-things, and holidays, and all the 
 
LETTERb FRUM HER FATHER. 293 
 
 &:c's. of a light-minded state ? What I a young 
 damsel almost fourteen years old, and no more 
 progress in divine things ! Study your Bible, and 
 remember your privileges. Study your Bible, and 
 dig deep for a foundation whereon to build our 
 house. Study your Bible, and say what must be- 
 come of all the thoughtless little girls in the world, 
 if they do not repent and believe. Once more, 
 study your Bible, and learn what you first owe to 
 God, and then to your parents, and then to brothers 
 and sisters, then to teachers, and then to school- 
 fellows, and then to all mankind. Such a medita- 
 tion will, with God's blessing, prove a merciful 
 hour to your own soul, and for the sake of yours, 
 to my soul also. I hope you will now pursue your 
 education with earnestness. Now is the time to 
 lay in a stock of useful knowledge. You cannot 
 set too high a value oh the advantages which you 
 possess. Whether you eat or drink, or whatever 
 you do, do all to the glory of God. Childhood and 
 its vanities must speedily pass away, and you must 
 have done with childish things. Learn to pray, 
 and commit your whole soul and body to Christ. 
 He is able to keep what you give into his hand, 
 unto the great day when the secrets of all hearts 
 shall be disclosed. You are now at the age of 
 which little Jane did tliis. Are you like her ? are 
 you as ready to meet your God as she Vv^as ? Ask 
 the question of your heart, and carry it to the 
 throne of mercy, where all praying souls are made 
 welcome. I hope you like the Bible-meeting at 
 Northampton. I wish you early to cultivate a 
 
294 lAMll.V i'OKTHAlTURi:. 
 
 cordial, interest in that great work — the greatest 
 work of tlio age. In the day when Dame Eleanor's 
 cross* was built, the Bible was unknown to the 
 greatest part of the country. What a contrast 
 now ! The angel flies through heaven and earth, 
 presenting it to all. TIk; stone cross was once 
 almost an idol ; l)ut the true cross proclaimed in 
 the Bible, is the real Christian's ensign, prop, and 
 delight. Farewell, dear love. I am 
 
 " Your own dear father, 
 
 " L. R." 
 
 The next letter was written to the same daugh- 
 ter on her birth-day. 
 
 '' Dear 11 •, 
 
 ''The return of a f)irth-day is a signal for grat- 
 itude. Fourte(3n years ago, as I sat in my little 
 study at Brading, in the Isle of Wight, about six 
 in the morning, in came a woman bearing in her 
 arms a little baby, and wished me joy of the same — 
 now this litth; bjiby was a little girl, and that little 
 
 girl was my 11 , and now is the loth time that 
 
 joy has hovAi uttered from year to year whenever 
 tiiat day was named. But what is joy ? Is it 
 only a holiday ? But what is joy ? Is it only a 
 game of play — is it merely a jumping and frisking, 
 and running, and chattering, and doll-dressing, and 
 merry-making, and feast-keeping? Is this all the 
 joy of a l/irth-day ? Away, far away be all sueh 
 
 * This cross is erected about a inWe from NortlmmjHon, niul was 
 once held in great veneration by Catholic devotees. 
 
LETTERS FROM HER FATHER. 295 
 
 feeble interpretations of the word. Then what is 
 a birth-day joy ? Is it not the joy of parents, when 
 tliey see their children growing- up in the fear of the 
 Lord, and in the practice of holiness ? Is it not the 
 joy of the husbandman, when he sees his crop ripe 
 and plentiful, and offering the promise of harvest? 
 is it not the joy of the gardener, when he perceives 
 his young trees thrive, and blossom, and bear fruit ? 
 Is it not the joy of the mother bird, when after all 
 her watchings, and tremblings, and flutterings over 
 the nest, she sees her little ones begin to fly, and 
 become capable of answering the end of divine 
 providence in their creation ? Is it not the joy of 
 the Christian instructor, when, after hours^ and 
 days, and months, and years spent in warning, 
 teaching, guiding, praying for, and affectionately 
 superintending the young pupil's best interests, 
 that pupil proves a living commentary on the pre- 
 cepts received, grows in grace, and love, and hu- 
 mility, and activity, and obedience, and as a bud 
 of promise cheers the hearts of surrounding friends 
 with prospects of usefulness through life in all its 
 relative circumstances. If such be the ingredients 
 of birth-day joy when duly estimated, may I be 
 gratified in expressing my joy to-day, and can you 
 also participate in joy thus appreciated? God bless 
 
 you, my dear H , on this day, and on every day. 
 
 Tmie flies, opportunity flies, the school-hour flies, 
 childhood flies, all things are hastening to a grand 
 consummation — what a solemn thought! May 
 my child conceive and cherish it to the glory of 
 God, and her own everlasting consolation. May 
 
296 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 Christ become to her a gracious Saviour, received; 
 loved and honored by her. Such is the prayer of 
 her affectionate father, 
 
 On an occasion of indisposition, Mr. R. writes 
 again, 
 
 " Dear H., 
 
 '' My anxious wish for your spiritual and temj^oral 
 welfare induces me to express my thoughts to you 
 in these little notes. I cannot tell you how much I 
 desire that this season of sickness may be blessed 
 of God to your present and everlasting good. This 
 thought is continually before me, and I pray con- 
 stantly to him that you may be inwardly strength- 
 ened by the power of his might. Examine your- 
 self Prove yourself Bring your heart and all 
 your thoughts before God, and make a solemn sur- 
 render of yourself to him. Employ with gratitude 
 and patience the means which are prescribed for 
 your recovery, but trust in him aione. Physicians 
 can do nothing without his blessing on the medicines. 
 I thank God for your last note, and shall be much 
 pleased when you can and will write me another. 
 Above all things be much in prayer; in the watches 
 of the night speak to God ; in the events of the day, 
 tell him how much you need and depend on him. 
 In moments of weakness, ask him for strength ; i.n 
 seasons of pain, petition for contentment. He will 
 of his riches abundantly supply your need. But you 
 must deal faithfully with yourself, and humbly and 
 
LETTERS FROM HER FATHER. 297 
 
 perseveringly with him. Be not content with 
 merely saying, Christ died for sinners. Try to get 
 an evidence that yon have a personal interest in 
 him. This may be known by the state of your 
 heart towards him.. ' We love him because he 
 first loved us.' Hi.s love produces love, and our 
 iove to him proves that he has loved, and does love 
 us. Are you ignorant ? he is wisdom. Are you 
 guilty? he is righteousness. Are you unholy? he is 
 sanctification. Are you a captive ? he is redemp- 
 tion. What is he not to the sinner ? his strength is 
 perfect in the believer's weakness. He was tempted 
 in all points like as we are, and therefore knows 
 how to succor them that are tempted. O my 
 child I if yon can only cleave to him, and all that 
 he is, and all he has promised to be, nothing can 
 harm you. Meditate on these things, and may God 
 make them quite and entirely your own. Now for 
 a text for reflection. ' In all our afflictions he was 
 afflicted.' 
 
 "Not a pang ever distressed our bodies, nor 
 a trial our hearts, but Jesus has felt it, and he not 
 only felt it in himself, but he feels it for and in us. 
 What a consolation is here I This thought has sup- 
 ported thousands in their trouble. May it support 
 you. Behold Christ in everything, see him every- 
 where, acknowledge him in every trial ; for he 
 sympathizes in all the trials of them that are his. 
 They have not one pain too many. Even sufferings 
 will all work together for good to them that love 
 
 him. I wish my loved H may see, feel, 
 
 believe, and enjoy this encouraging thought, and 
 13* 
 
298 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 make it her own. God love and bless you. So 
 prays, 
 
 *' Your affectionate P'ather, 
 
 " L. R." 
 
 On another occasion he writes : — 
 
 "Dear Love, 
 
 " The heart of man is deceitful above all things, 
 and desperately wicked, who can know it? So 
 said the prophet of old, and so will every one say 
 that knows the plague of his own heart. I want 
 you to employ your whole time now in studying 
 your heart, that you may increasingly feel the need 
 of a Saviour. Who else can cleanse your heart, 
 but he who died for its salvation. Do not be con- 
 tented with a little religion, a little knowledge, a 
 little hope. Press forward to the enjoyment of a 
 great and gracious religion, much knowledge of 
 Christ, and a glorious hope full of immortality. 1 
 am indeed most anxious that you may now in right 
 earnest seek and find the Lord. ' What must I do 
 to be saved V is a great question. How shall my 
 deceitful heart be renewed. Whenever I die, 
 whither shall I go ? are all questions connected with 
 it. Ask God with all your heart for a right 
 answer. 
 
 "Your affectionate Father, 
 
 " L. R." 
 
 This letter was followed by another under the 
 same circumstances. 
 
LETTERS FROM HER FATHER. 299 
 
 '* Dear Child, 
 
 " Your reminding me not to forget to write to 
 yon, leads me to hope that you read my little notes 
 with a desire to profit by them. You do not know- 
 how anxious I am for your soul's good. What 
 God designs for you in the present illness, I know 
 not ; but this I know, that you cannot be too 
 earnest about your eternal state. You cannot 
 mourn for sin too deeply. You camiot love Christ 
 too affectionately. You cannot trust in his blood 
 and righteousness too firmly. I want you to be a 
 monument of mercy ; a believing, loving, praying 
 child. If God is pleased to restore you to health, 
 may you adorn the doctrine which you have been 
 taught, and if he should see good to remove you to 
 another world, O may you sleep sweetly in Jesus. 
 Be much in prayer : ' Seek and ye shall find.' 
 No favor is too great for God to grant. You are 
 past the age of childish ignorance, and are now an 
 accountable being. 
 
 " My H , nothing will satisfy me short of 
 
 your being a true child of God. What efTect have 
 recent events produced on your mind ? What de- 
 sires, what fears, what hopes, what views of sin 
 and Christ? ^ * ^' * May God make 
 you a joy to your affectionate father, 
 
 ^'L. R." 
 
 In the year 1825, an offer of marriage was 
 made to this daughter, of which Mr. R. expressed 
 his cordial approbation in the following short note. 
 
300 family portraiture. 
 
 '■' My dear friend, 
 
 *' On consulting Mrs. R. and our dear H , 
 
 they both agree, that the beginning of July is the 
 earliest period at which the object in view can be 
 accomplished. So leaving it in their hands I 
 simply put my seal of approbation and consent to 
 their decision ; and I do so with a heart full of love 
 and esteem for you both. May God bless your 
 prospects, and your souls in them. I love all my 
 children too well not to say, that in committing 
 
 H , into your hands, I give you one of my 
 
 cherished treasures, and sources of domestic endear- 
 ment. I feel parting with my daughter the more, 
 from the removal of my loved, my much-loved Wil- 
 berforce. His death, with all its affecting associa- 
 tions, has had a peculiar, I trust a very useful effect 
 upon al] my feelings, sentiments, ministrations, pros- 
 pects, and thoughts for time and eternity. The sub- 
 ject is wound up with my heart's experience, in a 
 way I can never describe. I pray God to overrule it 
 for the present and eternal good of myself and my 
 dear family. Your's very truly and affectionately, 
 
 "L. R." 
 
 Previous to the marriage of his daughter, Mr. 
 R. put into her hands a paper of directions for her 
 future conduct, which for simplicity, affection, and 
 sound practical wisdom, may be considered one of 
 the best dowries that a Christian parent could 
 bestow on his child. 
 
 The paper is entitled, " Marriage admonitions to 
 H , from her affectionate father, L. R." 
 
LETTERS FROM HER FATHER. 301 
 
 *'My much-loved Daughter, 
 
 " When your sister Mary left her patoi'nal roof, 
 I gave her a paper of admonitions, which I request- 
 ed her sometimes to read for her own and for her 
 father's sake. I do the same for you, in the form 
 of a friendly string of maxims, to regulate your 
 conduct in your new and very responsible situation. 
 
 " 1st. Aim at keeping a devoted heart for God 
 in the least and most common transactions of every 
 hour, as well as in those events which may seem to 
 call the loudest for manifestations of religious con- 
 science and principle. 
 
 "2nd. Pray regularly and frequently, not sel- 
 dom and occasionally, for grace to live and die by. 
 
 " 3rd. Remember the principles and professions 
 of yoLir father's house, and everywhere endeavor to 
 preserve its character, by consistency in conduct, 
 conversation, and temper. 
 
 " 4th. Form no hasty intimacies, and none what- 
 ever but such as may promote seriousness of heart, 
 tongue, and demeanor. 
 
 " 5th. Beware of cheerfulness degenerating into 
 levity, and ignorance of the world into prejudice. 
 
 " 6th. Guard against hasty judgments of char- 
 acter, and above all against hastily uttering senti- 
 ments, and making remarks to the disparagement 
 of others. 
 
 " 7th. Wherever you are, not only remember 
 that God's eye is upon you, but imagine to yourself 
 that your husband and father are also present. It 
 may be a fanciful, but it is a profitable supposition. 
 
 " 8th. Keep in constant recollection the wise, 
 
302 FAMILY PORTRAITURK. 
 
 prudent, and conscientious example of your dear 
 mother. Be cautious when in religious company, 
 and endeavor to sustain a deportment which may 
 induce the excelhint of the earth to desire your 
 society for their own sake as well as yours. 
 
 " 9th. Particularly avoid making the errors, 
 failings, faults or follies of good people, either in 
 private or public matters, the subject of rash and 
 unguarded remarks. Be known for charity, for- 
 bearance, and kindness. 
 
 '' 10th. Keep Christ's golden rule, Luke vi. 31, 
 in perpetual remembrance; it is the panacea for 
 most of tha- evils of life, so far as they are connected 
 with social intercourse. 
 
 "11th. Entertain no prejudices against nations, 
 churches, sects, or parties ; they are the bane of 
 truth, charity, and comfort, and are directly op- 
 posed to the letter and spirit of Christianity. You 
 may and ought to have a conscientious, well- 
 founded preference, but not one half-formed, ill- 
 formed prejudice against any one. 
 
 " 12th. Be conscientious towards all, friendly 
 with few, intimate with fewer still, strictly confi- 
 dential with fewest of all. 
 
 " 13th. From the hour you marry, you assume 
 the character of a matron ; be not a childish, girlish 
 wife ; the vows of God are upon you, sustain their 
 gravity and prudence in all things. 
 
 '• 14tli. If circumstances and friendly connec- 
 tions lead you into the superintendence of charita- 
 ble institutions, enter upon your office with prayer 
 
LETTERS FROM HER FATHER. 303 
 
 and consideration, and persevere in the discharge of 
 its duties with patience and well-guided zeal. 
 
 " 15th. Let no natural vivacity of temper, no 
 occasionally indulged sallies of humor and jocularity, 
 throw a shade over the exercise of solid principle. 
 Little foolish things give a color to character, and 
 are more easily caught at than grave and good 
 sentiments. 
 
 " 16th. All eyes are sure to be fixed on a young 
 wife ; beware of, while you conform to, that sort of 
 bridal publicity, w^hich is necessarily connected with 
 every circle of residents and acquaintance. 
 
 '' 17th. Choose female intimates with circum- 
 spection ; many civil, hospitable, agreeable persons, 
 are far from being improving companions ; we may 
 ow^e and pay them the debt of civility, kindness, 
 and gratitude, and yet not be obliged to give them 
 too much of our time and affection. Two or three 
 truly Christian women form a circle sufficiently 
 large for profitable friendship. 
 
 " 18th. In every, however small a circle of ac- 
 quaintance, you will find more or less of party 
 spirit, prejudice, and too gi*eat freedom of remark 
 on persons, and circumstances connected with them : 
 beware of making one of these. Be slow to judge, 
 rather than swift to speak ; the best Christians often 
 fail here. 
 
 " 19th. You are much given to laughter, my 
 dear child, and many a hearty laugh I have enjoyed 
 with you, and I would not turn your laughter into 
 sorrow\ but this propensity may prove a snare to 
 you. Watch and be jealous of it, banish what 
 
304 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 looks like giggling, lightness, and folly, and culti- 
 vate a chastened cheerfulness and simplicity of 
 manner in all companies. 
 
 "20th. Never forget that you are entering an 
 entire circle of strangers, and that a very few weeks 
 or months will establish your character amongst 
 them. 
 
 " Once more, I say, think of your father's house 
 and reputation. When I look upon myself and all 
 that belongs to me, I feel ashamed of my own 
 feeble, faint attempts to serve God, and adorn his 
 gospel ; yet the Christian world has attached to 
 them, however undeservedly, a value, and by the 
 name and character of their father will my chil- 
 dren be tried and appreciated. 
 
 '•21st. Keep indelibly engraven on your heart 
 the affecting scenes of last January. A dying 
 brother's faithful admonitions — his last words, his 
 last looks of mortal affection. Our household never 
 witnessed the like, was never so tried. The memo- 
 rials dwell on my heart with increasing poignancy. 
 I say less but I feel more ; there is a solemn silent 
 softening and subduing inffuence which often over- 
 whelms me. May you retain a vivid recollection, 
 with a perpetuated blessing, of that day when our 
 Wilberforce ffed from earth to heaven. 
 
 " 22nd. Be especially attentive to the opinion 
 which your demeanor may inspire amongst your 
 husband's relations. No doubt he has praised you 
 before them ; endeavor to prove in all points that he 
 has done you no more than justice ; much family 
 peace and love depends upon this. 
 
LETTERS FROM HER FATHER. 305 
 
 ** 23rd. There are many excellent liiiits in the 
 book entitled, * A Whisper to a new married pair.' 
 I recommend them to your perusal; and there are 
 many more excellent hints to wives and women in 
 the Bible, from Solomon, Paul, and Peter; study 
 them well. 
 
 " 24th. When you think of your father, bear 
 with his infirmities, pardon his faults, but remem- 
 ber his principles and instructions, so far as they 
 have been agreeable to the will of God. 
 
 " 25th. Be not contented with anything short of 
 deep, devoted, diligent, decided seriousness. Make 
 not the too numerous half-hearted and decent; but 
 dubious Christians, your patterns for imitation. 
 Set your mark and standard very high, and aim 
 deliberately to regulate your conduct by it. 
 
 '' 26th. If you and your husband happen to dif- 
 fer in opinion or feeling in any point, remember 
 whom you have promised to love, honor, and obey, 
 and this will settle all things. 
 
 "27th. Of your husband's warm affections to- 
 wards you, I entertain no doubt ; strive to preserve 
 them by daily elevation of character, not so much 
 by fondness as by prudence and dignity. Study 
 his character, he will study yours. May you both 
 learn to raise a fabric of connubial happiness by 
 mutual wfsdom and love. 
 
 " 28th. I trust you are taught in the school of 
 Christ ; rely not, however, on the past privileges of 
 education, but seek present evidences, such as will 
 comfort you under sudden alarms and distresses, 
 should they occur. Try to get acquainted with 
 
306 FAMILY rOilTRAlTLRE. 
 
 yourself by a review of your whole life, and often 
 carry to the Lord in prayer and confidence, the re- 
 sults of examination into your heart and conduct. 
 
 " 29th. Observe great simplicity and plainness 
 in dress. A clergyman's wife should be a pattern 
 to others in these respects ; there is a just complaint 
 made of many females who profess to be religious, 
 that they are far too showy and gay in their out- 
 ward apparel ; — remember the apostle's injunction 
 — 1 Peter iii. 1—6. 
 
 '* 30th. Never think yourself too old to learn; 
 the most valuable period of education is perhaps 
 from twenty to forty years of age. The matured 
 mind \s fittest to become the little child. 
 
 "" 31st. You are bidding farewell to your fa- 
 ther's house, the home of your infancy, childhood, 
 and youth ; yet the remembrance of the principles 
 in which you have been educated should follow you 
 through life, wherever Divine Providence may see 
 fit to call you. May they be a guide to you at all 
 times, a consolation to you in your final removal 
 from a sinful and changing w^orld. 
 
 " Christ has been made known to you fully and 
 freely : let Christ be your all in all^ both now and 
 forever. Receive my parting advice in love, and 
 be assured, my beloved child, it comes from the 
 affectionate heart 
 
 "Of your dear father, 
 
 " L. R." 
 
 A short time before her marriage, Miss H. R. 
 paid a visit to . I was gratified in discovering 
 
LETTERS FROM HER FATHER. 307 
 
 in a young woman, not yet twenty years of age, so 
 much thought and good sense on the subjects of 
 our conversation. Tn common with the rest of her 
 family, she entertained a deep sense of her father's 
 affection, consistency, and uniform anxiety for the 
 spiritual welfare of his children. 
 
 When I adverted to her responsibility on the 
 ground of past privileges, and to the necessity of a 
 personal application of the principles in which she 
 had been educated, she observed, " I know that re- 
 ligion requires something more of me than respect 
 for my father,"' and she then proceeded to state to 
 me some of the perplexities of her mind on certain 
 doctrines, which led me to remark that young peo- 
 ple were apt to begin where they should end, and 
 as an old author has quaintly said, wish '• to ma- 
 triculate at the university of election, before they 
 have passed through the grammar-school of repent- 
 ance and faith." 1 advised her to lay aside the 
 consideration of the deep thir^gs of God. These, 
 said I, are far beyond the range of a young disciple. 
 The time may arrive when such subjects may be 
 studied with advantage, for it is a great mistake to 
 suppose that God has revealed anything which is 
 unserviceable to his church, or needless to be under- 
 stood ; but infancy, youth, and manhood, are not 
 to be fed with the same aliment. I have no wish 
 to conceal from you that my mind is made up on 
 these subjects, though I am far from being confi- 
 dent in the certainty of my own conclusions on 
 points which are debatable and still debated amongst 
 good and wise men ; but I feel no hesitation in dis- 
 
308 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 suading you from employing your tlioughts on spec- 
 ulations which at present will retard rather than 
 aid your progress. To ascertain your conversion, 
 and the reality of your piety, by the plain practical 
 tests of the Bible, ought to be your chief and in- 
 deed only concern. Admit that God calls, keeps, 
 and alone can bring you to heaven, and you know 
 all that is essential to your salvation. 
 
 *' Yes, but if God does not call" — 
 
 Then call on him, " Turn thou me, O good 
 Lord, and so shall I be turned." 
 
 We made a transition to her approaching mar- 
 riage. I alluded to the pleasing prospect of being 
 united to a man of principle and piety, and to the 
 satisfaction her father had expressed in the antici- 
 pation of tliat event. 
 
 She requested me to converse with her on the 
 duties of her new relation. 
 
 You entertain, my dear young friend, no doubt, 
 the usual expectations of happiness in married life, 
 and I do not wish to damp them ; but I am com- 
 pelled to acknowledge that I have not witnessed 
 much conjugal felicity. People jog on in life, be- 
 cause they cannnot do otherwise ; if they are not 
 indiflerent to each other, nor annoy each other by 
 contention and ill humor, they still appear to me to 
 derive but little satisfaction from their connection — 
 little in comparison of what the relation is intended 
 and calculated to inspire. 
 
 " What are the causes of the disappointment in 
 such cases ?" 
 
 Shall we say that there is want of affinity of 
 
CONVERSATION WITH THE AUTHOR. 309 
 
 character in tho parties — that the connection has 
 been formed on some selfish calculation — that a 
 jnutual though not designed deception has been 
 practised — that greater demands are made than a 
 fallen nature can answer — that people are more 
 tenacious of their claims than of their duties, and 
 forget that affection needs cultivation as much, or 
 more, after, than before marriage ? 
 
 All these causes are fatal to happiness, yet where 
 they may not exist, much uneasiness often arises in 
 married life, from a disregard to the ordinance of 
 God in that relation. Reference should be made to 
 his rule and appointment. It is true he has made 
 the man a sort of autocrat, (y dsfrnoTag) — the head of 
 a house, to superintend and direct every important 
 movement in it ; but though entrusted with the chief 
 power, he is responsible to God for the use he 
 makes of it. Authority is granted to no one for 
 the purpose of mere self-gratification. The trust 
 is abused when it is perverted to this end. Man is 
 constituted the head, for the good of the members ; 
 and he must rule with tenderness, forbearance, and 
 affection. Matthew Henry has prettily expressed 
 the idea, " God made woman out of man's side. 
 Not out of his head to rule, nor out of his feet to 
 be trampled on, but out of his rib, which lies near 
 his heart, to be loved and cherished." And when 
 man forgets that his reign is the dominion of affec- 
 tion, he provokes God, by an abuse and misuse of 
 power, to resign his house to disorder and" rebellion. 
 
 The wife has also her place. She is equal in 
 nature, but not in relation. She must shine by re- 
 
310 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 flection, and will suffer an eclipse in her dignity, 
 and bankruptcy in her happiness, whenever she sets 
 up for herself, and effects equality and independ- 
 ence. Her earthly hopes and satisfactions should 
 emanate from her husband, and centre in him. The 
 rule of duty for a Cliristian wife is, " in and for the 
 Lord." Her obedience must not vary with the ca- 
 pricious influences of feeling, but rest on the firmer 
 basis of conformity to the ordinances of God. Af- 
 fection may make duty delightful, but it is not the 
 foundation of it. When a wife has just reason to 
 disapprove of her husband's conduct, she may rea- 
 son and remonstrate ; occasions may unhappily arise 
 in which conscience requires dissent, and even dis- 
 obedience ; but in general it is a woman's privilege, 
 as well as duty, to call her husband " Lord," and 
 to keep within the limits which God has wisely 
 and graciously appointed. 
 
 My young friend thanked me for my instructions, 
 which she assured me were in unison with her own 
 views, and that she meant to enter on her new re- 
 lation with these principles. 
 
 The interval between her marriage and early 
 death, might have been more fully described by one 
 who is best able to appreciate her conduct. But 
 motives of delicacy, and regard to his feelings, have 
 restrained me from making an application to him, 
 and led me to prefer the insertion of an extract 
 from her mother's letter. Mrs. R. writes : — 
 
 "Her time was chiefly spent in the retired duties 
 of domestic life. She seldom engaged in anything 
 of a public nature. She became a most exemplary 
 
IIER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 311 
 
 and conscientious wife — a fond and tender mother 
 to her little boy, whom she regarded with anxiety, 
 and was preparing to train in the principles and 
 piety of her dear father. Increasingly beloved by 
 her husband, whose comfort and happiness, on his 
 return from his daily and laborious occupations, she 
 assiduously studied to prom^ote — her short day of 
 life sweetly glided on, and, like the flower of the 
 desert, she attracted little notice beyond the imme- 
 diate circle of the few friends to whom she attached 
 herself." 
 
 In September, 1828, Mrs. was confined 
 
 with her second child. An account of the event 
 and its afflictive results, was communicated at the 
 time in the letter which follows. 
 
 ^ =j.v i'f ^ ^ # # 
 
 '' I saw our poor H in the afternoon after 
 
 her accouchement. She then appeared extremely 
 well, and nursing a sweet infant with a mother's 
 jo\. Oq Wednesday she complained of pain, and 
 passed a very restless night. The next day Mr. 
 
 A called in a physician, who seemed uneasy 
 
 at her symptoms, and enjoined the utmost quiet, 
 particularly requesting that no one should speak of 
 her danger, or say anything to excite or agitate her 
 mind. On Friday she grew worse, and inquired 
 if there was danger, expressing her own conviction 
 that she should not recover. Her friends, in com- 
 pliance \Yiih the strict injunctions of the medical 
 man, discouraged her inquiries, and endeavored to 
 draw her mind to other subjects. But in reply, she 
 said, ' Is this kind, to keep my thoughts from eter- 
 
312 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 nity ? I cannot realize death, and you will not 
 help me. Can I think too much of death?' She 
 then inquired for me, and desired that I might be 
 sent for. Aware of tlie great change in her coun- 
 tenance, as I entered the room she kept her eyes 
 shut, remarking to the nurse, ' I will keep my eyes 
 shut, I shall be so agitated at seeing my dear sis- 
 ter's distress, she will see me so changed.' She 
 was indeed changed ; her countenance, which only 
 a week before had the bright hue of health, was 
 
 now pale and wan. Oh ! my dear Mrs. F , 
 
 how awful is the execution of the sentence ' The 
 soul that sinneth it shall die.' Even where Christ 
 has taken away the sting, the expiring agony of 
 death is terrible. Is it not a strange infatuation 
 that our latter moments should ever be absent from 
 our thoughts — that we can trifle where we ought 
 to tremble, and be comparatively indifferent to the 
 only event which is of real importance to us ? 
 
 " I was earnestly requested, befr)re I went into 
 the sick room, to show no alarm at her danger, and 
 avoid conversing upon death. But I gazed at her 
 marble countenance for a few moments, and all hope 
 of her life fled. The particular appearance of death 
 cannot be mistaken, and I resolved to speak plainly 
 
 to her of her situation. But H began of hor 
 
 own accord. She put her hand into mine as I sat 
 
 down beside her. ' F , love, we meet as dying 
 
 sisters this time.' Dear H , I replied, Tell me 
 
 how you feel. ' F , I feel that in a few hours 
 
 I must stand before the judgment-seat of Christ, 
 and there render an account of all the deeds done 
 
HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 313 
 
 in the body, and my sins press heavy upon me. 
 
 F , talk to me about death. I shall not recover. 
 
 I have felt assured of this from the first, bat no one 
 will talk to me, even my dear husband shrinks from 
 it, but I muat speak of death now. I hope you will 
 converse with me.' I assured her of my intention 
 and willingness to do so, and I began to inquire into 
 the state of her mind. She lamented her sad necrlect 
 of religion in days past, that she had greatly failed 
 to improve opportunities, and had grievously put off 
 preparation for a d3nng hour. ' Now, dear F — — , 
 I feel the value of time — novv^ I see why I was sent 
 into tliis world ; my whole life ought to have been 
 
 a preparation for this hour. Oh ! dear F- , how 
 
 time has been trifled away.' 
 
 " She seemed exceedingly distressed at these rec- 
 ollections, and particularly referred to the instruc- 
 tions and example of her dear father — and expressed 
 in the strongest terms her gratitude to him for 
 teaching her to honor religion from her infancy. 
 
 ' Now, F , I feel his worth. Oh, what a father 
 
 we had — how his prayers, and entreaties, and holy 
 example rise before me. I never," never can express 
 my love for my father. On a death-bed I have learnt 
 his value' — then adding ' but on a death-bed I have 
 learnt my responsibilities for such a parent. I shall 
 .soon have to answer for many things, but I have 
 most to answer for in having had such a parent. I 
 have enjoyed unparalleled mercies through childhood 
 and youth. Oh ! I have much, very much to an- 
 swer for. If / am saved^ it will indeed be a mira- 
 cle of miracles — but, F , I have a hope, and I 
 
 14 
 
314 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 cannot give up hope. Christ is my hope ; his blood 
 can cleanse me from my sins, iintl for his sake even 
 I may find pardon.' 
 
 " She then named several of her friends and re- 
 lations who she thought would b3 shocked at the 
 intelligence of her early and unexpected death. She 
 sent kind messages to them. The poor people of 
 'Purvey, and recollections of the horns of her youth 
 seemed much in her thoughts, and deeply affected 
 
 her. ' F , give my afl'ectionate love to them all. 
 
 Turvey is very dear to me.' 
 
 " The state of one of her intimate friends distressed 
 her. ' How I regret,' alluding to this lady. ' that our 
 conversation and intercourse has been so little prof- 
 itable to either of us. I wish I could see be- 
 fore I die. I have much I want to say to her. I 
 want to press religion on her mind. O tiiat I could 
 see her a real Christian before I die.' She spoke 
 much of her dear aunt, v/ho had kindly nursed her 
 all the week with the patient tenderness and affeo- 
 tion of a mother. ' I hope my beloved aunt knows 
 Christ and his doctrines. I think I shall meet her 
 in heaven.' She entreated me to explain the nature 
 of religion to the nurse, ' I am too weak to talk to 
 
 her now, but I hope you will, dear F . I am 
 
 afraid she has not a riglit knowledge of religion. 
 She has been telling me there can be no doubt of 
 my going to heaven, because I am so good and 
 amiable. Oh ! this is false, this is error, this is no 
 foundation to build on for eternity. Explain to her 
 the nature of sin, and salvation by Christ. I can- 
 not bear the thought of leaving that kind and faith- 
 
HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 315 
 
 ful creature in ignorance. I have been talking to 
 
 ,' alluding to one of the servants, ' and have 
 
 tried to show her the importance of preparing for an 
 early death. I wish I had strength to speak to 
 
 nurse also.' H then returned to the subject of 
 
 her own departure — ' Oh I I am frightened when I 
 think of dying. I have not accustomed myself to 
 think of dying as I ought to have done.' I suggested 
 to her mind what appeared to me best suited to her 
 case — that Christ was our lamp in that dreary val- 
 ley — our strong consolation in the bitter pains of 
 death. She replied, ' I can trust Christ with my 
 soul. I can hope he will pardon and save it; but I 
 feel alarmed about the bodily pains of death — they 
 are fearful in prospect ; but I will not dwell on the 
 future, it disturbs me. I will trust God.' I said, 
 ' When thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death,' 
 interrupting me she exclaimed with great emotion, 
 ' Thou didst open the kingdom of heaven to all be- 
 lievers.' 
 
 " She now referred to Wilberforce, and said, 
 ' Poor Willy went through this awful time before 
 me, but all was safe and happy with him. I trust 
 it will be so with me. My dear, dear father, he also 
 has gone through death. None of us know what 
 sorrow he endured in that awful hour. He was in- 
 deed a loss to us all, but I am now glad he is gone 
 before me.' 
 
 " The prospect of leaving her infants agitated 
 her mind throughout the day. ' To be left with- 
 out a mother ! oh, this is hard ! Oh God, take 
 care of my poor babes I' Her chief conversation 
 
316 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 about the children was with her husband, and t 
 believe she gave him many directions about their 
 education. 
 
 " On Saturday my mother arrived. H was 
 
 too ill to converse with her, but she assured her 
 that her own mind was in peace. 
 
 " My sister appeared to be dying the whole of 
 Saturday night, but very gradually. She begged 
 we would all leave the room, as the evening came 
 on, and that ^he might be left alone with her hus- 
 band, who sat the whole of the night beside her, to 
 converse as her strength would permit. 
 
 " At six o'clock on Sunday morning, she desired 
 that we might be called into the room. We found 
 
 Mr. supporting her in his arms ; death was on 
 
 her countenance, she breathed with difficulty, and 
 
 was quite cold. She said ' I wish to see Mr. ,' 
 
 (the medical man who attended her in her confine- 
 ment). When he came, she inquired of him how 
 long she might live ; he said, perhaps three hours. 
 
 She requested her husband to send for Mr. W . 
 
 On his arrival she exerted her last strength to con- 
 verse with him, but their conversation was carried 
 on in so low a tone that I could not catch the 
 
 whole. I heard my sister question Mr. W 
 
 most earnestly about a true and false faith, and 
 whether he thought her faith sincere and genuine. 
 He spoke very decidedly of the safety of her state, 
 and she appeared to receive comfort from his opin- 
 ion. At her request he administered the Lord's 
 supper. We knelt round her bed in silence and 
 deep anguish. She clasped her hands, and seemed 
 
HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 317 
 
 to be in earnest prayer the whole time. At the 
 
 conclusion she thanked Mr. W and said, 
 
 ' You have refreshed me in body and mind. This 
 is the hour of extremity, but Christ is ali.' She 
 then became much oppressed, and struggled hard 
 for breath, and in a little time asked for her chil- 
 dren. When the eldest was brought, she clasped 
 him for a moment to her breast, and said, ' This 
 boy has been my idol.' She next begged the in- 
 fant might be brought to her. ' I want to see if I 
 can bring my will to God's will.' The babe was 
 placed in her arms, she looked at it, was much 
 agitated, and exclaimed, ' Oh ! take it away, take 
 it away, I cannot bear this ! O God ! take care 
 of my darling babe!' She followed it with her eyes 
 as the nurse carried it away, and seemed to be in 
 prayer for it. She then took leave of each of us 
 separately. To her mother she said, ' I shall soon 
 be with my dear papa.' The interview with her 
 husband was very aflecting. She was most ar- 
 dently attached to Mr. . She desired him to 
 
 kneel down, and commit her soul to God in the 
 agony of departure. Presently she whispered, ' I 
 cannot hear now.' Then — ' My sight is failing — 
 Oh ! this is death.' She begged we would keep 
 perfect silence, and lay her straight down on the 
 bed. We stood motionless, and gazing on her. 
 She made several attempts to speak, but in vain, 
 but I heard her breathe out very faintly, ' Now it 
 begins to look lovely !' A moment after, fixing 
 her eves nnwfird. and s;rnilingr with a ulacid coun- 
 
318 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 tenance, she drew a last deep breath, and all was 
 hushed in silence. 
 
 " Are we not allowed, my dear Mrs. F , to 
 
 believe that my sister has joined angels and arch- 
 angels, and all the company of heaven. Her short 
 and painful ilhiess afforded less scope for the exer- 
 cises and evidences of a renewed heart than ws 
 witnessed in the last hours of our beloved Wilber- 
 force. Yet here we have not been left to sorrow 
 as without hope. ' Beloved for the father's sake,' 
 seemed inscribed in characters of mercy on her 
 death-bed. The effect of her education and early 
 acquaintance with the principles of religion could 
 not be mistaken. Her father's prayers and un- 
 wearied and affectionate solicitude for his child's 
 spiritual welfare — the ' line upon line and precept 
 upon precept' which he pressed on her mind — to- 
 gether with poor Willy's earnest addresses and en- 
 treaties in his dying hour, seemed to recur to her 
 with new force, and poured a flood of light, con- 
 viction, and consolation on her soul, leading her in 
 penitence and faith to rest all her hopes on that 
 one oblation, propitiation and satisfaction which 
 was once made for sin by the Lamb of God, in 
 whose precious blood all transgression, known and 
 unknown, is washed away forever. 
 
 "Believe me, my dear Mrs. F , 
 
 " I am your most affectionate, &c." 
 
 I would not be thought to cast a shade on the 
 hopes so affectionately expressed in the above letter, 
 the subject of which is, I trust, a happy spirit in 
 
HER SICKNESS AND DEATH. 319 
 
 heaven. Yet I feel it necessary, as a Christian 
 minister, to subjoin a few salutary cautions, espe- 
 cially to young people, against too exclusive a reli- 
 ance on what may take place in our latter moments. 
 The Scripture makes an appeal to living hours and 
 holy fruits, and these are the tests on which we 
 can more safely depend. The gold passes through 
 the fire, and the result of the purifying process 
 alone determines its character. It is the language 
 of inspiration, " As a man sows, so sliall he reap." 
 Let me remind those young persons whose opin- 
 ions are correct, but w^ho are conscious that their 
 hearts are yet far from God, not to run the hazard, 
 the tremendous hazard of their souls, by delay, nor 
 expect peace and safety at last, unless they are now 
 seeking to lay up the support of a faith Vviiich 
 w^orketh by love and obedience. *' It is the tenor 
 of the life, not that of the few morbid and suffer- 
 ing scenes which precede dissolution, that fixes the 
 character. We are not authorized by Scripture to 
 place any dependence on the last periods of sinking 
 nature, through which the Christian may be called 
 to pass to his eternal reward."* 
 
 * Life of the Rev. T. Scott, p. 515. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 If I have done well and as is fitting tlie story, it Is that which I desired ; but 
 if slenderly and meanly, it is that which I could attain unto.— 2 Maccabees. 
 
 In reviewing what has now been submitted to the 
 public, there seems little need of further comment, 
 since it is probable that the intelligent reader has 
 anticipated every suggestion which I might be dis- 
 posed to offer. 
 
 Of Mr. Richmond's plans for his children I must 
 leave the Christian parent to form his own opinion ; 
 observing, that whether he adopts them in whole or 
 in part, he should never forget that instruction, 
 however large or correct, is not education — that 
 true piety consists not in a form, in its most scrupu- 
 lous use, nor in a speculation claiming the bare 
 assent and approval of the mind, nor in an influence 
 occasionally to be felt. It is a principle pervading 
 every faculty of a man's moral nature. Religion is 
 estimated far below its real character, when it is 
 regarded as an affair of dutiful necessity, or as a 
 medicine taken for ulterior relief, rather than as a 
 well-spring of life and health, to which the soul 
 turns for satisfaction and delight, and without which 
 it can neither be peaceful nor happy. The truths 
 of the Bible may be taught in their utmost purity, 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 321 
 
 and yet, unless their spirit be transfused into the 
 affections of the heart and the habits of the hfe, 
 they will fall short of the effect and design of real 
 Christianity. Mere knowledge of religion, without 
 a corresponding feeling and practice, often issues 
 in a fatal apathy, and forms a character which 
 becomes at last impervious to every sacred im- 
 pression. It has been well said by a profound 
 moralist, " To handle holy things without feeling, 
 is to be cauterized in the end." It has been clearly 
 shown on what principle Mr. Richmond conducted 
 his plan of education ; — that his grand aim was to 
 touch the heart, and to make duty and delight 
 synonymous. Yet some caution is necessary in the 
 exclusive application of strictly religious principles. 
 There are a variety of motives which act most 
 salutarily on present advantage, and which impose 
 powerful restraints on the impulses of a corrupt 
 nature ; and if we strip a youth of all regard for his 
 interest or reputation, we expose him, in the absence 
 of higher motives, to be driven along by the current 
 of his own passions, till he makes shipwreck of all 
 that is valuable for this world and the next. To 
 this neglect of inferior motives I am disposed to 
 ascribe the misconduct of many children of religious 
 parents ; and it therefore becomes an inquiry of no 
 small importance, (though of difficult and delicate 
 character,) whether the entire disuse of subordinate 
 influences is wise, or even safe in a course of 
 education. May we not be guided in this inquiry 
 by the sanction of the Supreme Ruler himself,* who, 
 
 * Ezekiel xx. 25. 
 
 14# 
 
322 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 while he taught the most excellent way, formed 
 laws for human conduct, and held out motives for 
 obedience, not always the best in themselves, but 
 the best in reference to the circumstances and 
 capacities of his creatures. Nor am 1 inclined to 
 reject any influence for present advantage, where 
 there is nothing opposed to the spirit or command 
 of religion. 
 
 Another circumstance which is often undervalued 
 in education, is the establishment of good habits, 
 and that too, prior to the full admission of good 
 principles. Habits, it is true, are formed by a 
 series of actions, and actions must spring from 
 principles of some kind ; but the principle at first 
 may be little more than custom or association ; yet 
 are the habits valuable, as preparing a future power- 
 ful co-operation with right principle ; for nothing 
 proves a greater obstacle to truth in opinion than 
 error in conduct. There is a deep and intimate 
 knowledsje of the iniiuence of habit in that declara- 
 tion of our blessed Lord, " If any man will do the 
 will of my heavenly Father, he shall know of the 
 doctrine whether it be of God." (John vii. 17.) 
 
 Corrupt practice is a fruit of darkness, and 
 increaseth darkness ; and though correct habits are 
 not the cause of divine light, they prepare the soil 
 for the heavenly seed, and clear away the weeds 
 and thorns which would check its vegetation, and 
 retard its growth. The language which reflects on 
 human agency as useless, and even presumptuous, 
 until a divine power has commenced its mighty 
 operation, is not in accordance with reason or 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 323 
 
 Scripture, and a propensity to form systems, and 
 distort the doctrines of religion, is often connected 
 with indolence and selfishness, which shrink from 
 the labor of instruction. 
 
 Mr. R.'s great care to regulate the private inter- 
 course of his children, is another feature in his 
 system of education which deserves particular 
 attention. It is evident from one remark in his 
 own memoranda, that he intended to have urged 
 this topic in the projected memoir of his son, "The 
 great value of scientific and rational amusement to 
 supply materials for good and useful conversation." 
 
 The unprofitable manner in wdiich hours of social 
 intercourse are too often spent, has been lamented 
 by many. It may not be desirable, nor is it always 
 profitable, to introduce strictly religious subjects on 
 every occasion. Sacred things should be handled 
 with reverence and feeling, or we shall be in danger 
 of making an unholy use of that which is holy. But 
 it is very possible to converse on ordinary things in 
 the spirit of religion ; we may aim to improve our- 
 selves or others, and not merely pass away the time 
 in tales of w^onder. We cannot be walking with 
 God in a heavenly, tender frame of mind, or with 
 any just sense of our position, as standing on the 
 brink of eternity, while we propose to ourselves 
 no higher object than amusement — no accession 
 of ideas — no elevation of devout affections. Can 
 our communications *' administer grace to the 
 hearer" luhen the amount, if written down, ivould 
 shame a ivise man, and distress the mind of a sin- 
 cere Christian? 
 
324 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 There is also, with the young and old, a preva- 
 lent and bad habit of talking of persons rather than 
 of things. This is seldom innocent, and often 
 pregnant with many evils. Such conversation in- 
 sensibly slides into detraction ; and by dwelling on 
 offences, we expose our own souls to contagion, 
 and are betrayed into feelings of pride, envy, and 
 jealousy ; and even when we speak in terms of com- 
 mendation, " we are sure to come in with a but at 
 the last, and drive a nail into our neighbor's repu- 
 tation." — Bacon. 
 
 The disuse of good conversation proceeds from 
 poverty of ideas, no less than from want of heart- 
 religion. Persons select light and trivial subjects, 
 because they have no materials for a higher inter- 
 change of sentiment. If more pains were taken 
 to cultivate the mind, there would be less ditliculty 
 in speaking to edification, and less need of having 
 recourse to amusements, which differ little in their 
 effect and influence from others, which, by common 
 consent, have been denounced as inconsistent with 
 vital religion. 
 
 If the "Domestic Portraiture" should fall into the 
 hands of any one who has been accustomed to as- 
 sociate the idea of folly and delusion with a serious 
 profession of religion, he may observe, in what is 
 there detailed, that a sincere Christian may be a man 
 of taste and intelligence, and that it is not necessary 
 to be illiterate or enthusiastic to believe the Bible 
 and regulate a family in accordance with its princi- 
 ples ; — that elegant accomplishments and a becom- 
 ing attention to the usages of society, as far as they 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 325 
 
 are innocent or usefu], may be found in alliance 
 with the warmest devotion, and a most conscien- 
 tious regard to the laws of God. 
 
 In taking farewell of this little worlc which I have 
 now brought to a conclasion, one thought enters my 
 mind, and produces deep emotion. I have increased 
 the responsibilities of Mr. Richmond's family, by 
 holding them up to public observation. Wherever 
 the present volume may obtain circulation, their 
 father's honor, and — a still more important con- 
 sideration — their father's principles, will be inti- 
 mately connected with their conduct, and the value 
 of them be appreciated by their effects. His eye is 
 no longer upon them, nor his bright example before 
 them, neither has every member of his family en- 
 joyed the full benefit of his affectionate and careful 
 superintendence. But I am persuaded that the 
 traces he has left are too deeply engraven ever to 
 be erased from their remembrance, and that a 
 father's blessing will follow them to the latest hour 
 of their earthly pilgrimage. It is my heart's desire 
 and prayer to God, that they may retain a lively 
 recollection of his instructions, and continue to walk 
 worthy of their vocation, irreprovable and without 
 rebuke, until they rejoin their departed relatives, 
 and with them " praise God for such a father." 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 FRAGMENTS RELATING TO LYDIA G , 
 
 OF NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE. 
 
 The present volume, as it has been already stated, 
 bears the title, and is formed upon the plan, which 
 had been adopted by Mr. Richmond himself, for a 
 work which he had projected, and had, in fact, 
 commenced. But there was also found among his 
 papers the outline and materials of another nar- 
 rative, intended as a companion to his " Young 
 Cottager," and " Dairyman's Daughter,'' and which 
 would probably, if it had been filled up by him, 
 have been found little inferior, either in interest or 
 in usefulness, to those highly-honored memorials 
 of the triumphs of divine grace. 
 
 But it must not be concealed, that the more 
 interesting parts of this story are, as far as this 
 world is concerned, forever lost. The great charm 
 of Mr. Richmond's former sketches lay in that 
 part of the story which was personal, and which 
 was peculiarly his own. His conversations, and 
 his meditations, formed always the most attractive 
 and heart-atfecting portions of the tale, and those, 
 in the present case, are unrecorded. That part of 
 the sketch which consisted of the contributions of 
 
APPENDIX. 327 
 
 others, remains, being found carefully preserved 
 among his papers, and bearing the title already af- 
 fixed to it, which he had adopted for the narrative 
 itself, which it was his intention shortly to write. 
 That purpose, like the plan of the " Domestic Por- 
 traiture," was arrested by the approach of his last 
 illness ; and all that can now be done, is, to 
 '' gather up the fragments that remain, that no- 
 thing be lost." 
 
 The title of the projected tract, as left in his own 
 hand, is as follows : — 
 
 "MEMORIALS OF LYDIA G , 
 
 Of Newcastle-on-Tyne ; who died Feb. 14, 1825, aged 17 years; 
 a spiritual child of 'Little Jane, the Young Cottager.'" 
 
 The few circumstances which are recorded of 
 one whose life was passed without incident and in 
 obscurity, will naturally range themselves in order 
 of time as follows : 
 
 The usual trifling and immaterial circumstances 
 of her being named, did not pass without Christian 
 feelings being called into exercise. Her mother 
 said, " I wish to call the child Lydia." The father 
 answered, "Call her what thou pleasest, my dear." 
 But the eldest sister asked, " Why would you call 
 her Lydia, mother ? we have no relation of that 
 name." The mother answered, " I will name her 
 after Lydia, ' the seller of purple,' my dear ; — and 
 may the Lord bless her, and 'open her heart,' as 
 He did that of Lydia, in the days of the apos- 
 tles." 
 
328 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 It is easy to trace in this apparently minute cir- 
 cumstance, the character of the parent's mind. 
 Little Lydia was offered to the Lord, in the sacra- 
 ment of baptism, in faith. The promise, " I will 
 pour my Spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon 
 thy offspring," had been often pleaded in her behalf 
 before a throne of grace : and here in the ordinary 
 course of God's dealings with mankind, we may 
 trace the first flo wings forth of that purpose of 
 mercy which became afterwards so clearly manifest 
 in the happy end of this child. 
 
 Lydia manifested from her infancy what is 
 called " a good disposition." She was never known 
 to utter a falsehood, or even to stoop to an equivo- 
 cation. Simplicity and uprightness marked every 
 stage of her short existence. Towards her latter 
 days, a striking instance of this occurred. Her 
 elder sister, under whose care she then was placed, 
 was naturally very anxious as to her health ; she 
 being then in a very precarious, and almost danger- 
 ous state. Lydia, who was then about seventeen 
 years of age, was usually very obedient to her 
 sister, but she felt much pain at being prohibited, 
 in bad weather, from attending the public ministry 
 of the word. On one occasion, when thus left at 
 home, she stole out to the evening service. Her 
 disobedience was undetected, and would have re- 
 mained unknown. But such was the tenderness 
 of her conscience, that she could neither receive 
 any enjoyment from joining in the worship or hear- 
 ing the word, — nor could sha rest, till she had con- 
 fessed her fault, and obtained forgiveness ; although 
 
APPENDIX. S29 
 
 no detection or even suspicion would have followed, 
 had she maintained her usual silence. 
 
 Her mother died in the faith of Christ when Lydia 
 was only seven years of age. The child's health 
 had long appeared to be delicate and unsatisfactory ; 
 and shortly after her mother's death, her case was 
 submitted to a physician and a surgeon of eminence. 
 They agreed that her disease was aneurism of the 
 heart, for which there was no cure ; but which bleed- 
 ing might relieve or retard. This mode of allevia- 
 tion was resorted to, but her strength was thereby 
 reduced to the lowest point consistent with the con- 
 tinuance of life. 
 
 It was about this time that " The Young CoU 
 tagef was placed in her hands. She made no re- 
 mark upon it ; nor was any one aware that its peru- 
 sal had produced any unusual effect upon her mind. 
 But her father, writing after her death, says, " Al- 
 though she sat under an evangelical ministry, yet, 
 until she read that inestimable little book, I believe 
 she never felt the depravity of her own heart, nor 
 sought its renewal by the Holy Spirit." 
 
 In the course, however, of a few months after, 
 Mr. Richmond himself, in one of his journeys for 
 the Jews' Society^ visited Newcastle. Lydia's health, 
 at this time, was in the most delicate and precarious 
 state. Her disease rendered quietness and seclusion 
 almost necessary to the hourly continuance of her 
 life. 
 
 Her sisters were led to hear Mr. Richmond preach, 
 and they mentioned his name in her hearing. Her 
 attention was instantly aroused, and she eagerly ex 
 
330 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 claimed, '' Oh ! I must go and hear him ! He taught 
 little Jane the way to heaven, and he will teach me." 
 Her sister told her that she could not permit her to 
 think of it that evening, (Sunday,) ill as she was; 
 but that Mr. Richmond was to preach again on the 
 Tiiursday, when she might perhaps be better. "But," 
 she adc^ed, " how will you be able to get there you 
 cannot walk ?" " O dear !" she answered, " but I will 
 try, and we will go by the bye ways, and you will 
 carry me when I cannot get on." In the interval 
 between Sunday and Thursday, her sister remarks, 
 she was more careful of her health, and anxious to 
 gain strength, than young people usually are when 
 expecting to join a pleasure party. The sisters set 
 out, and an idea may be inferred of the state of 
 Lydia's health, from the fact, that they congratulated 
 themselves on being so happy as to reach the church 
 after a painful struggle of an hour and a half. " Now," 
 says Lydia, " I must be where I can see Mr. Rich- 
 mond." In this, too, they succeeded, and the sister 
 expected that when the service was concluded, she 
 would contentedly return home ; but to her great 
 surprise, the poor girl's agitation increased, and she 
 exclaimed, " I must speak to him !" 
 
 Her sister's astonishment at this desire was 
 naturally very great. Lydia, who was then under 
 ten years of age, was naturally timid and bashful. 
 She was now in a weak and feeble state of body, 
 inducing great nervousness ; and it may be judged, 
 from these circumstances, what must have been 
 the ardent feelings of her soul, which could break 
 through all these obstructions, and force her to seek 
 14 
 
APPENDIX. 331 
 
 a conversation with one so far renioved from her, 
 in age, circumstances, and education, as Mr. Rich- 
 mond. " My dear Lydia," said the sister, " I can^ 
 not go to speak to him ; and what would you say, if 
 you could get to see him ?" " Oh ! I want so to talk 
 to him ; and you must go and speak to him, and 
 tell him so. I am sure he would not be displeased ; 
 I know he would not !" 
 
 Her earnest beseeching quite distressed her sister ; 
 
 who, not daring to go into the vestry to Mr. R , 
 
 followed him, with Lydia, along the street, watch- 
 ing for an opportunity of addressing him. When 
 his pace quickened, Lydia had to be carried, lest 
 he should get out of sight. He stopped to speak 
 with some one, and on his parting from the person, 
 Lydia begged her sister to go and speak to him. 
 "My dear,*' she replied, " what can I say to him? 
 you must speak to him yourself." "Oh! tell him," 
 said Lydia, " I want to talk to him about what he 
 said to little Jane I" Mr. R. reached his friend's 
 door, and entered the house. Her grief increased, 
 and she exclaimed, " Oh ! I shall never see him 
 again, — oh I what shall I do I" She stood opposite 
 the house, weeping and lamenting the loss of the 
 opportunity, and was with difficulty persuaded to 
 leave the spot. Her sister, on returning home, ac- 
 quainted her father with her earnest desire, and her 
 grief. He hesitated what to do, but at last, through 
 
 the intervention of a kind friend, Mr. W , 
 
 Mr. Richmond was made acquainted with the cir- 
 cumstance, and called upon the little girl. 
 
 Here we have to regret a deficiency in the 
 
332 FAMILY I'UKTRAITURE. 
 
 history, which no pen but that of Mr. Richmond 
 himself could have supplied. The conversation 
 must have been deeply interesting ; but the parties 
 engaged in it have now both left this lower world, 
 and we may suppose, have enjoyed many happy 
 and holy hours of converse in the abodes of bliss. 
 A letter, however, remains to us, which was ad- 
 dressed to Lydia, as its own language shows, on the 
 following day. It is as follows : 
 
 ''Durham, Nov. 1, 1817. 
 "My very dear child, 
 
 " As God in his tender mercy permitted me to 
 witness for a little while, yesterday morning, how 
 much your heart has been interested in the story 
 of my ever dear child in the faith, Little Jane, the 
 Young Cottager, I wish to tell you once more how 
 sincerely I desire that it may please our gracious 
 Saviour to make you like unto her. If my little 
 book has in any way been the means of stirring up 
 in your young mind a real desire to be found in the 
 way everlasting, surely I may be permitted to call 
 you, in that respect, one of my little ones, and to 
 feel for you something of a father's love and affec- 
 tion. Had I knovv^n your wish to have seen me 
 sooner, I would have gladly come, and talked to 
 you more about Little Jane, and about the things 
 that belong to j'our everlasting peace ; — as it is, I 
 feel my heart strongly inclined to give you these 
 few lines, as a proof of my good-will and true re- 
 gard for your soul's welfare. 
 
APPENDIX. 333 
 
 *' Our acquaintance, my dear little girl, has been 
 short, but perhaps both you and I feel as if we 
 were indeed friends in the Lord already. May my 
 pras'ers for your salvation and support in trials, and 
 your patience in suffering, be answered for the sake 
 of Him who died upon the cross to save sinners. 
 What a Saviour is He ! Oh ! my child, seek him, 
 love him, bless his holy naine I Think of Him when 
 you are in bodily pain, and remember how much 
 greater were his pains. Think of him when you 
 want instruction, and may he be your wisdom. 
 Think of him when you reflect on your sins, and 
 may he prove your righteousness. Are you afraid 
 to come to him ? What ? afraid of him, who said, 
 ' Suffer the little children to come unto me I' No, 
 my dear girl, fear not, he is willing that you should 
 come, for he is the way, the truth and the life. 
 He is the way to heaven — there is none other. Oh ! 
 may you walk in that way, and find rest to your 
 soul therein. Little Jane and I used to talk about 
 heaven and hell, and Christ, and sin, and mercy, 
 and pardoning love, till our hearts burned within 
 us ; — you have read a little of our conversations, in 
 the Annals of the Poor ; but that is only a small 
 part of what we said to one another. I often think 
 of those days with great thankfulness, and it makes 
 me very glad to see that she, though dead, yet 
 speaketh to the living by her simple story. Behold, 
 how good God is ! she died before you were born, 
 yet you are become acquainted with her, and can 
 see how the Lord blessed her in life and in death. 
 Her faith and love and humility are a pattern for 
 
334 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 you, and through God's loving kindness I hope you 
 will be like her in these things. 
 
 " You probably may be too young or too unwell 
 to write to me, and tell me something about your 
 thoughts and feelings, and what first made you feel 
 a desire to be saved, and what you have felt when 
 you read the story of the Young Cottager. I could 
 wish to know more of your heart, and what you 
 think about sin, and pardon, and Jesus Christ. But 
 this perhaps cannot be, unless some one should 
 write for you ; but then every word and thought 
 must be your own. The Lord save you, my child, 
 and give you the gospel blessing, and may you trust 
 in Christ with all your heart. Remember Little 
 Jane, and in your prayers remember likewise, 
 "Your affectionate friend in the Lord, 
 
 " Legh Richmond. 
 
 " Give my Christian regards to your sisters, pray 
 with them, and may you all meet in heaven at the 
 last, as sinners freely saved by the blood of Jesus 
 Christ. — Farewell, my dear child." 
 
 The conversation and correspondence of Mr. 
 Richmond was made the effectual means of convey- 
 ing true peace to her soul. She was shortly after 
 enabled to speak of her heart, as being " filled with 
 the love of God ;" and to contemplate her probable 
 dissolution with joy and hope. The following letters 
 were adressed by Mr. R. to Lydia and her sister in 
 the course of the ensuing year. It will appear 
 from these letters, that both the sisters were in- 
 debted, under God, to Mr. R. for their first impres- 
 
APPENDIX. 335 
 
 sions of religion, and for their subsequent confirma- 
 tion in the ways of holiness and peace. 
 
 " And now once more, my dear little Lydia, (for 
 such I apprehend is your name.) let me again press 
 you to my bosom and talk of Jesus. What a sweet 
 name to the believer's ear I It contains all that a 
 poor weak young sinner, like you, can want. " His 
 name shall be called Jesus, for he shall save his 
 people from their sins." Comforting thought ! may 
 it comfort you, my child, and render pain, sickness, 
 trial, welcome. Lay your heart and all its troubles 
 upon that blessed rock ; cast your burden upon him, 
 and he will (indeed he will!) sustain you. Disease 
 may weaken and destroy your suffering body, but 
 it cannot injur(3 your soul. Love him, who loves 
 you ; never be afraid to ask him for patience and 
 resignation, and he will show his tender mercy to 
 you. Pray, as well as you can, and always remem- 
 ber that he is praying to his Father for you ; it is 
 this which encourages us to go to him. Your life 
 may probably be a short one, but then the sooner 
 shall you be with Christ. Think of Little Jane, and 
 how God supported her ; and do not doubt but he 
 will freely grant you the same help. His ear is not 
 heavy, that he cannot hear, nor his arm shortened, 
 that he cannot save. Let me hear from you, if you 
 can so far oblige me, and trust in me as a true 
 friend. Farewell, dear little child, and pray for me, 
 as I do and will for you. 
 
 " Faithfully and affectionately yours in Christ 
 Jesus, Legii Richmond. 
 
 ''Jan. 25. — I received yours last night." 
 
336 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 " Neivcastle, Tuesday, 12 at night. 
 " My dear Children, 
 
 " I cannot do more than write two or three lines 
 now. But I wish to give you my blessing before I 
 leave the town, and to ask you to write to me. A 
 letter will find me during the next ten days at the 
 Rev. Dr. Buchanan's, Canongate, Edinburgh. I 
 wished to have spoken to you again after the service 
 of the chapel, but could not see you. Grace, peace, 
 mercy and love be with you, from God our Father, 
 and our Lord Jesus Christ. So prays 
 
 " Your truly affectionate friend, 
 
 " Legii Richmond. 
 
 " I hope the Lord was with us to-night at public 
 worship. I felt it was good to be there." 
 
 '' Glasgow, June 25, 1818. 
 * My very dear young Friend, 
 
 '' Nothing can be more fallacious than the mere 
 testimony of language, most especially in so infan- 
 tine a case, to ascertain the genuineness of conver- 
 sion to God. I am frequently grieved in observing 
 the undue importance which many good but mista- 
 ken people attach to this evidence. I am sorry that 
 any such source of uneasiness has arisen in regard 
 to my dear child Lydia, But it may eventually be 
 well ; it may teach you to look more for solid and 
 operative testimonies of true faith than mere readi- 
 ness of conversation. I fully concur with you, that 
 the marks of a divine chan2:e are far more satisfa>> 
 torily proved by such observations as you are able to 
 
APPENDIX. 337 
 
 make, than can possibly arise from the mere expres- 
 sions of the lips. God in his great mercy carry on 
 in her dear soul a work so evidently begun, and com- 
 plete it to his own glory in Christ Jesus. I have 
 met with many instances of the conversion of souls 
 in Scotland, owing to the blessing of God on my 
 feeble performances. Elizabeth, William, and Jane, 
 have produced several fruits to God here. To him 
 be all the glory. I am constrained to conclude, from 
 the hurry of travelling. Perhaps I may see you 
 next month ; it is uncertain. But nothing is more 
 certain than that prayers for you, your sisters, and 
 family, are ardently offered up to heaven by 
 *' Your true friend in Christ, 
 
 " Legh Richmond. 
 •' To Miss E G ." 
 
 " Queen's Head Hotels Pilgrim Street, 
 Tuesday Morning, 9 o'clock. 
 " My respected young Friend, 
 
 " I am just arrived here from Morpeth, and as 
 my time will soon be much hurried and broken in 
 upon, I write to ask you in the first place whether 
 it would be quite convenient to you to come to me 
 here, while I am breakfasting, to save time, that I 
 may have the pleasure of some Christian conversa- 
 tion with you on the subject of your last letter to 
 me. I shall also visit my little girl while I am at 
 Newcastle, but I thought the present opportunity 
 might be previously desirable. Believe me, 
 
 '' Yours faithfully, Legh Richmond. 
 
 u Miss E G ." 
 
 15 
 
338 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 " Turvey, Jan. 24, 1818. 
 *' My respected young Friend, 
 
 " You have taken no liberty beyond that which 
 every principle of religious confidence and esteem 
 must fully justify. I have been long hoping to re- 
 ceive a few lines written by or in the name of your 
 dear little sister ; and now, through the goodness of 
 God, another of the family claims me as a spiritual 
 friend, and even father. May grace, peace, and 
 mercy rest on each and all of you. I will say some- 
 thing first as it concerns yom-self. At your period 
 of life the grace of God is indeed most valuable. 
 Youth is a season of peculiar temptation, and needs 
 the strong fortifications of divine principle in the 
 soul, to protect it from falling a prey to a thousand 
 snares and devices from without, and from as many 
 foul corruptions striving for mastery from within. 
 ' May you be preserved, through faith, by the power 
 of God, unto salvation.' Be much in prayer, and, 
 like a wrestling Jacob, you shall prevail. By faith 
 in that Saviour who is the wisdom, righteousness, 
 sanctification, and redemption of his people, you shall 
 triumph over sin, death, and hell. ' Faithful is he 
 that hath promised, who also will do it.' Oh ! ' cast 
 your care on .him, for he careth for you.' If the 
 Lord was pleased to make my visit to Newcastle in 
 any degree a comfort or source of instruction to 
 your soul, I ought to thank him for so great a mercy 
 to us both. What am I but your fellow sinner ? 
 and if God make use of one poor sinner to minister 
 help to another poor sinner, to whom, but to him- 
 self, great, wise, and merciful, can the praise be due ? 
 
APPENDIX. 339 
 
 I shall ever remember my visit to Newcastle with 
 much pleasure, and in particular I shall never forget 
 the short interview which I was permitted to enjoy 
 in your house. Your little sister, ray little Jane, 
 and the dear Redeemer of them both, seemed on that 
 morning to be all brought to my affections with sin- 
 gular emotions, and now I feel that there was another 
 link in the chain of Christian affection which mercy 
 bound around my heart. I thank you for enabling 
 me to say so. I heard of your sister some time since 
 
 from my dear and respected friend, Mr. W , 
 
 and I shall be truly glad if she is still able and wil- 
 ling to write to me herself Pray do not let her 
 imagine that she need be afraid of writino^ to me. 
 I love my little lamb too dearly in the Lord not to 
 prize whatever she can and will say to me. It v/ould 
 give me much satisfaction if I were permitted to re- 
 ceive some regular account of the dealings of God 
 both with her and with you, from the first beginning 
 of serious affections in both your souls. Perhaps 
 you will favor me with them at your leisure. This 
 will confirm our Christian friendship, and whenso- 
 ever it shall please the Lord to take the dear child 
 to himself, will be a memorial which I shall greatly 
 prize. You may probably be spared to serve God 
 in your generation, when she shall have joined Cher- 
 ubim and Seraphim amongst choirs of angels and 
 ransomed spirits, in heaven. Be it so — and may 
 you so taste that the Lord has been gracious to you, 
 that your temper, example, conversation, and whole 
 life may testify that you love him for all his good- 
 ness to your soul. If, my young friend, you have 
 
340 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 really felt the burden of sin, and have seen the aw- 
 ful consequences of remaining in a graceless state, 
 what views will you have of the Saviour's character 
 and office I what exalted ideas of his love to sinners. 
 In him a perfect righteousness is wrought out for 
 and applied to the believer ; his riches will supply 
 your poverty : his wisdom, your ignorance ; his 
 strength, your weakness. Live upon his fulness by 
 faith, and see in him a provision abundantly made 
 for every difficulty and every danger. Commit 
 yourself, soul, body, and spirit, to him. He is 
 mighty to save, and will save to the uttermost. 
 
 " And now I return to you^ ray friend and corre- 
 spondent : you wili pardon my digression to your 
 little sister ; God bless her. I commend you to 
 the Lord and his grace. Go forward in that path 
 that leads to glory. Fear not the lions in the way ; 
 stronger is he that is with us, than they that are 
 against us. Present my Christian regards to your 
 father and sisters ; remember how much I need 
 your prayers, and believe me, &c., &c. 
 
 '' Turvey, Aug. 6, 1818. 
 " My dear little Child, 
 
 " I thank God for kindly permitting me to visit 
 you and your family, when I lately travelled in the 
 North. I love you for Jesus Christ's sake, and wish 
 to do you good. But this must entirely de])end on 
 God's blessing. It is not viy word but His that 
 must change your heart. My visits are only the 
 visits of a poor fellow creature, who needs the grace 
 of the Redeemer as much as yourself; but when 
 
APPENDIX, 341 
 
 Christ visits yon, then there is triie light and peace. 
 Then you may cry out, with young David, " Lord, 
 what is man, that thou art mindful of him, and the- 
 son of man that thou visitest him?" My child, 
 pray to him — -read his word daily, and never be con- 
 tented \^thout seeking to understand every word 
 and every sentence. Read it for faith, that you 
 may trust your soul and body entirely upon him. 
 Read it for the government of your temper, that 
 you may show forth the inward light which God 
 gives you, by patience, kindness, gentleness, obedi- 
 ence to your father and sisters, and every becoming 
 disposition of mind. You ought to consider that 
 3^our life has been spared beyond our expectation, 
 and that every hour of it is a fresh call for love, 
 honor, wonder, and praise to God. Read the word 
 of God that you may learn the value of time. 
 Every hour should have its due occupation. Read 
 the word, that you may know how to feel towards 
 your dear friends. For those who love and fear 
 God, how thankful ought you to be ! They watch 
 over your soul, and are daily praying for you. For 
 those who do not love and fear God, how ought 
 you to pray ! Who can tell but that your prayers 
 may be the special means of bringing down bless- 
 ings upon them. Most especially let your temper 
 and behavior towards them show that you yourself 
 fear God, and love Jesus Christ. Example and 
 prayer may go together in all God's children. I 
 hope he will not leave one of your brothers and 
 sisters, without manifesting a blessing to their soul. 
 "Will you write to me again, Lydia? or, if your 
 
342 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 dear sister is kind enough to write for you, let every 
 thought and every word be all your own. I shall 
 
 now call upon your young friend Ann W , 
 
 whom I also love tenderly in the Lord, to fulfil her 
 promise to me, and I will say a few words to her on 
 the other side. Give my Christian love to your 
 father, brothers, and sisters; and may they, you, 
 and I meet at last in that happy place where Christ 
 is in glory. Pray for yourself, and for 
 
 "Your true friend in the love of God, 
 
 "Legii Ricii.mo^d. 
 
 " My own little children send their kind regards 
 to you, and I beg you will remember them also 
 when you pray." 
 
 '''■ Monday Evening ^ November^ 1818. 
 " Dear young Friend, 
 
 " I have been thinking how, amongst my numer- 
 ous engagements, I can best see you and yoar sister, 
 
 and as I w^ish also to call on Mary H , I wish 
 
 you would both come to her house on Tuesday 
 morning, at a quarter before ten o'clock, and I will 
 meet you there on my way to the chapel. To- 
 morrow I shall be engaged at North Shiekls, till it 
 will be too late to see you before the Bible Meeting. 
 On Tuesday I have a service at the chapel at eleven, 
 then a meeting of some young people about Church 
 Missionary business, and a pubHc meeting in the 
 evening. On Wednesday evening at five o'clock, I 
 go to Lancaster : you will see by this how much 
 
APPENDIX. 343 
 
 my time is occupied. I hope Lydia is well enough 
 to come out. I wish you and your family every 
 blessing in Christ. 
 
 " Please to give me a line. I was very much 
 obliged by your last communication. May God 
 bless you and your's. 
 
 '' I am, 
 
 ^'Your's very faithfully, 
 
 ''Legh Richmond. 
 « Miss E G -." 
 
 Lydia, to use the words of her sister, '^ continued 
 for about three years after this, to walk in the light 
 of her Redeemer's countenance, blessing and prais- 
 ing God continually." After this period, however, 
 the enemy was. permitted, for a time, to gain a 
 partial advantage over her. The sister already 
 spoken of, who could have aided and protected her 
 steps in the narrow road, was removed from her by 
 marriage. She went to reside with another near 
 relative, who educated young ladies in her own 
 house. This new association with a variety of gay 
 and worldly people, soon produced its natural effect 
 upon Lydia's youthful and ductile mind. Her out- 
 ward attention to religious duties continued unre- 
 laxed, and her chief enjoyment was still the wor- 
 ship and service of God, but she lost that simple 
 and child-like confidence which she had heretofore 
 enjoyed ; she was secretly unhappy, because in heart 
 she had backslidden. 
 
 But soon the Lord sent her a warning, by an in- 
 crease of her disorder, which brought her a peni- 
 
344 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 tent to the feet of Jesus, were she afterwards 
 recovered her peace of mind. At this period, Mr. 
 Richmond, who had heard something of her state, 
 addressed to her the followiii": letter. 
 
 " Glasgoia, June 28th, 1822. 
 
 " My dear young Friend, 
 
 " A report has reached me that you are in a very 
 declining state of health, and that it may soon be 
 the will of the Lord to take you hence. I am 
 desirous of knowing what the state of your mind is, 
 and how far the young beginnings of religion which 
 I witnessed in your early infancy, have at length 
 ripened into a due preparation of heart to meet your 
 God in eternity. Has the blessing of the Saviour 
 accompanied the means of grace to your soul ? Can 
 you rest your all upon him who died to save sinners? 
 Can you, with little Jane, the Young Cottager, 
 commit yourself to God as a faithful Creator, and 
 sure Redeemer ? Have the pains of your body 
 been sanctified to the instruction and consolation of 
 your soul ? Do you feel yourself to be a lost, un- 
 done, and helpless sinner ? Can you flee to the 
 strong One for help, and see wisdom, righteousness, 
 sanctification, and redemption in Christ ? Have you 
 really sought the pardon of your manifold offences 
 against God ? If you cannot write me these things 
 yourself, ask your sister Elizabeth to do it for you. 
 I have often thought of you with mingled hopes 
 and fears. May God answer my prayers for your 
 
APPENDIX. 345 
 
 sake. Give my Christian regards to your father 
 and sisters, and believe me, 
 
 '^ Your sincere friend in the Lord, 
 
 '' Legh Richmond." 
 
 Of her own letters to Mr. Richmond, no traces 
 remain. A short note to a young friend, written 
 about this period, is the only specimen we have of 
 her train of thought and experience, but it will be 
 seen from it that she recognizes the afflicting hand 
 of God, as having a second time brought her back 
 to his fold, 
 
 " My dear Alice, 
 
 " I received yours, for which I return my most 
 grateful thanks. My dear friend, I sympathize with 
 you in the death of poor little Rebecca. I heard of 
 it soon after ; I think your brother told me. You 
 truly say there is no passing through this world 
 without trouble ; when we look around we see noth- 
 ing but confusion, but in the breast of the Christian 
 there is solid happiness. You know this very well ; 
 but I hope, my love, you feel it too. Oh that we 
 could cast our care upon Him that caretli for us. See 
 how He invites us to draw near and taste that He 
 .is gracious. I have much cause to be thankful for 
 my afflictions, for He has brought me a second time 
 into His fold. O let us not waste our youth in do- 
 ing nothing for our Saviour. Dear friend, if you 
 have felt any of these things, as I trust you have, 
 do write and tell me of the Lord's dealings with your 
 soul ; it would so delight my heart to have a friend 
 
 15^ 
 
346 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 like you to go hand in hand to that heavenly country. 
 Remember, ray friend, this is not our home ; we 
 have a house not made with hands, eternal in the 
 heavens, and we have a crown of glory that fadeth 
 not away. — What encouragement for young people! 
 He has said, "They that seek me early shall find 
 me ;" then let us take up our cross daily and follow 
 Him who hath bought us with His own blood ; but 
 I need not say more at present, as I know you are 
 well acquainted with the subject. So adieu, my 
 dear, and believe me, 
 
 " Your's affectionately, 
 
 u Lydia G ." 
 
 Her disorder began soon after this to make such 
 progi-ess as gave warning of her approaching disso- 
 lution. In the near view of eternity, she once ex- 
 pressed to a friend her apprehension, that the work 
 in her soul had not been genuine, — that her religion 
 had been too much that of a Pharisee. Her friend 
 
 then put into her hand the Life of Miss S , 
 
 whose experience greatly resembled her own, and 
 appeared so exactly suited to the exigency of her 
 own case, that she derived much comfort from it, 
 and shortly attained such a degree of composure in 
 the near prospect of death, as to be able to say, " I 
 am now perfectly happy, and would not exchange' 
 situations with any one." To another friend she 
 said, " I have had a sore conflict, but all is peace 
 now !" 
 
 She became so ill as usually to be unable to enter 
 into conversation. At intervals, however, she ob- 
 
APPENDIX. 347 
 
 tained a little relief. About three days before her 
 death, a friend called, whom she requested to pray 
 with her, and then to repeat one of her favorite 
 hymns — 
 
 " How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord," &c. 
 
 She appeared to dwell with delight upon every 
 word, and repeated with great animation the last 
 couplet, 
 
 " That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, 
 I 'II never, no never, no never forsake !" 
 
 On parting from this friend, whom she was to 
 see no more in this life, she sent her remembrances 
 to a little Christian society to which they both 
 belonged, saying, " Sarah, give my love to my young 
 Christian friends, and say to them that I hope to be 
 the first to hail them when they land on that happy 
 shore, to which I am now hastening." 
 
 She grew rapidly weaker, but still retained her 
 senses, and her peaceful serenity of mind. On 
 Sunday evening, as one of her brothers was weep- 
 ing over her, and not expecting her to survive the 
 night, she said, " I shall see you again in the body." 
 Soon after, holding the hand of each brother in her 
 own, she said, " Oh ! that I could tell my mother, 
 when we meet, that you are all coming quickly 
 after me." She was asked if she had any message 
 for another brother, then in London. She answered, 
 " Tell him that though he may be in perfect health 
 at present, yet 
 
348 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 ' Short is our longest clay of life, 
 And soon the prospect ends ; 
 Yet, on that day's uncertain strife, 
 Eternity depends !' " 
 
 About an hour before her death, a pious lady 
 called to see her, and prayed with her. She was 
 unable to converse, but her friend said, " My love, 
 I do not wish you to speak ; but if you are able, 
 tell me, by holding up your hand whether you are 
 quite happy." Immediately, as with a last effort, 
 she raised her half-dead arm as high as she could. 
 Shortly after, the flickering flame of life rose agrin, 
 and having tasted nothing for four and twenty 
 hours, she asked for something to drink. Her sister 
 brought it to her, when she put her arms round her 
 neck, and said, "Now raise me up." The last 
 struggle of nature prompted this desire, but on being 
 moved, her agony was extreme, and she cried out, 
 " Oh ! pray that I may be suffered to go now." 
 Folding her hands in the attitude of prayer, she 
 continued for about three minutes, and then said, 
 *' I want breath I — Hold me still !-— I am going — 
 now I" and sunk into her sister's arms, a corpse. 
 
 She had desired a little silver purse, being the 
 most valuable thing of the kind she possessed, to be 
 sent, after her death, to Mr. Richmond. She said, 
 " He has been my best friend on earth, — I wish him 
 to keep it in remembrance of me." 
 
 The following letters appear to have been 
 written by Mr. Richmond to the married sister of 
 Lydia, on his receiving the intelligence of her death. 
 
APPENDIX. 349 
 
 " Turveij, Feb. 26, 1825. 
 " DtAR Christian Frif:nd, 
 
 " I am much obliged by your affecting intelli- 
 gence. I am weeping and rejoicing over the grave 
 of a dear and glorified son. My heart is sensibly 
 affected by every similar case, and be assured, I 
 have not forgotten Lydia. I received the dear 
 child's letter long since, and thought I had answered 
 it. Oblige me with a full and detailed account of 
 all you remember respecting her, from the earliest 
 impression, previous to my first sight of her. De- 
 scribe her feelings, progress, backslidings, recovery, 
 and whatever you think most interesting and valu- 
 able relating to her, accompanying it with any 
 remarks of your own, and be assured that I shall 
 receive them with friendly gratitude. What a 
 change ! from earth to heaven ; from sorrow to joy ; 
 from mortality to immortality ! May you and I 
 experience it in God's own time. Give my Christian 
 regards to your father, sisters, and family, and to 
 your husband. Do no fear to write at full length 
 about your sister Lydia, and believe me, 
 "Faithfully yours, 
 
 " Legh Richmond." 
 
 '' September 28, 1825. 
 '* Dear Christian Friend, 
 
 " I have received your parcel just as I am set- 
 ting out on a journey, and can only at present 
 give a hasty reply to your kind communication, 
 which gives me much satisfaction. I receive these 
 
350 FAMILY PORTRAITURE. 
 
 tokens of esteem, both from yourself and your de- 
 parted sister, with much gratitude. I have ni^ver 
 ceased to think of her with Christian regard, for 
 although during a season she seemed to fall back 
 from the earlier marks of converting grace, yet the 
 Lord again so abundantly owned his work, that we 
 can now only say, '' How excellent is his name in 
 all the earth." She died but a short time after my 
 own dear son, whose memory is most dear to me, 
 — dear beyond my powers of expression. I shall 
 preserve her bequest as a tender memorial of her 
 spiritual regard. I thank you for your explanation 
 relative to the letter written some years since. It 
 is quite satisfactory ; you did perfectly right in not 
 allowing it to be inserted in any printed publication. 
 1 should by no means consent to that. The cause 
 of Christ prospers much in this place, and I have 
 reason to be very thankful. I am under apprehen- 
 sion relative to the reported dangerous illness of my 
 eldest son in India. The rest of my family are 
 
 pretty well. I hope Mr. W , whom I ever 
 
 loved affectionately in the Lord, is better than he 
 was some time ago. 
 
 "Your friend in the Lord, 
 
 " Legh Richmond. 
 " Mrs. B ." 
 
 This sister, Mrs. B , who was also a spiritual 
 
 child of Mr. Richmond, died in the faith, on the 21st 
 of April, 1826, and, as her father remarks, "would 
 be among the foremost to hail his arrival on the 
 happy shore." Conjecture would be useless and 
 
APPENDIX. 351 
 
 vain, as to the numbers who, similarly blessed 
 through the means of his writings, will throng to 
 form his "crown of rejoicing" in the great day; 
 but nothing can be more certain than this, that he 
 will be found among those who have '' turned many 
 to righteousness," and who will " shine as the stars 
 forever and ever." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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