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REMAINS 
 
 THE LATE RIGHT REVEREND 
 
 DANIEL SANDFORD, D-D. Oxon. 
 
 BISHOP OF EDINBURGH IN THE SCOTTISH EPISCOPAL CHURCH; 
 INCLUDING 
 
 EXTRACTS 
 
 FROM HIS DIARYAND CORRESPONDENCE, 
 
 AND A SELECTION 
 
 FROM HIS UNPUBLISHED SERMONS. 
 ( 
 
 WITH A MEMOIR, 
 
 BY THE REV. JOHN SANDFORD, 
 
 VICAR OF CHILLINGHAM. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WAUGH & INNES, EDINBURGH: 
 
 C. J. & F. RIVINGTON; J. HATCHARD & SON; 
 
 WHITTAKER, TREACHER, & CO., LONDON: AND PARKER, OXFORD. 
 
 MUCCCXXX. 
 
GLASGOW: 
 
 HUTClliSON AND OROOKMAN, PRINTERS, VILLAFIF.LD. 
 
TO THE RIGHT UEVEUEND 
 
 WILLIAM 
 
 LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM, 
 
 &c. &c. &c. 
 THE KIND AND CONSTANT FRIEND 
 
 OF HER DECEASED HUSBAND, 
 
 THESE VOLUMES AUE INSCRIBED 
 
 AS A SLIGHT TRIBUTE OF GRATEFUL RESPECT, 
 
 BY Ills LORDSHIP'S 
 
 MUCH OBLIGED AND OBEDIENT SERVANT, 
 
 FRANCES CATHERINE SANDFORD. 
 
These Volumes are offered to the Friends of 
 Bishop Sandford, in deference to wishes ex- 
 pressed by them immediately on his decease, and, 
 under the conviction, that having been best 
 acquainted with him while living, they were best 
 qualified to estimate the propriety of a posthum- 
 ous publication. 
 
 In deference to the same wishes, they have 
 been carried through the Press with more rapidity 
 than might have been otherwise desirable; but 
 it is hoped not so rapidly as to injure their 
 general acceptance. 
 
 The writer of the Memoir is happy to acknow- 
 ledge his obligation to Bishop Walker for infor- 
 mation relative to the Union of the Scottish Epis- 
 copal Church, and to the valuable work of the 
 Rev. Mr Skinner of Forfar, for the circumstances 
 of the Church previous to that event. For the 
 particulars of the late Bishop's last illness and 
 death, he is indebted to those who were more 
 happy than himself in being personally present at 
 that affecting and edifying scene. 
 
 Chillingham, July Ist^ 1830. 
 
CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. 
 
 Page. 
 
 The Memoir, ..... 1 
 
 The Diaiy, 109 
 
 Letters to Sons during their Education, 267 
 
 Letters to Daughters, . . . .315 
 
MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 BISHOP SANDFORD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "Eve?i a child is known by his doings, ivhethe?- his ivork be 
 pure, and ichether it be right." — Prov. xx. 2. 
 
 It may, perhaps, be considered by some that 
 the life and character of the unobtrusive person, 
 who is the subject of the following pages, can 
 furnish no very interesting materials for Bio- 
 graphy, and that, as during his life-time he rather 
 retired from observation, his memory might have 
 been left to the pious recollection of his own 
 communion and personal friends. But, though 
 it is admitted that there was in Bishop Sandford 
 little that challenges the notice of the world, it 
 is yet believed that, as his excellencies were 
 neither few nor common, a record of them 
 cannot be without advantage. His station in- 
 volved no political importance, and invested 
 him with little worldly distinction; but it insured 
 him capabilities of more than ordinary usefulness, 
 and gave occasion for the display of primitive 
 
 VOL. I. A 
 
2 MEMOIR. 
 
 virtues. And while such excellence is rarer, it 
 is also worthier commemoration than the more 
 dazzling eminence of those, who, living in the 
 eye of the world, have attracted more of homage 
 than of esteem, and whose lives have been distin- 
 guished rather by incident and success than by 
 moral and religious worth. 
 
 Daniel Sandford was the second son of the Rev. 
 Dr Sandford, of Sandford Hall, in the County 
 of Salop, and was born at Delville, near Dublin, 
 the residence of Dean Delany, in I766. His 
 father, who for some years held preferment in the 
 Irish Church, was an amiable and conscientious 
 man. Though the representative of an ancient 
 family, whose landed property, held since the 
 Norman conquest, was still considerable, he had 
 taken holy orders early in life. He officiated as 
 a protestant clergyman in the midst of Roman 
 Catholics, yet he was much and generally loved 
 by his parishioners ; and when, in consequence of 
 being obliged to return to England, he resigned 
 his living, they followed him with tears and 
 lamentations for several miles. It may indeed 
 be questioned how far their attachment was dis- 
 interested, but it will be readily admitted that 
 their regrets were sincere ; for their Rector, 
 during his incumbency, had accepted no re- 
 muneration for his services, and it might be 
 reasonably doubted how far his successor would 
 follow his example. 
 
 Whatever may have been Dr Sandford's 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 emoluments from the church, there is, at least, 
 no room for suspecting his attachment to it ; for 
 he used to say, that if he had a dozen sons, he 
 should wish to see them all devoted to its ser- 
 vice. As it was, of his four sons the two elder 
 entered the ministry ; although the two younger 
 embraced the more stirring professions of the 
 navy, and the bar. 
 
 In the selection of a profession for his second 
 son, Dr Sandford only anticipated the wishes of 
 the boy himself ; for, from his infancy, he mani- 
 fested the strongest predilection for the ministry, 
 and several anecdotes preserve the memory of his 
 early clerical propensities. Many it appears were 
 the lectures he inflicted on his more wayward 
 associates, and many the hidications which ena- 
 bled the gossips in the neighbourhood to prog- 
 nosticate his future elevation in the church. 
 
 His fatlier did not however live lona: enough to 
 see these predictions realized : he was removed 
 in early life, and the education of his family 
 thus devolved upon his widow, who was still 
 very young. As far as instruction was concern- 
 ed, few women were ever better qualified to 
 supply the absence of paternal care than Mrs 
 Sandford. Sister-in-law of Mrs Chapone, of 
 literary celebrity, and little inferior to her in 
 talent, she was disposed to cultivate in her chil- 
 dren an intellectual taste, and was herself well 
 qualified to shine in the republic of letters. 
 
 A 2 
 
4 MEMOIR. 
 
 In other respects she appears to have been a 
 woman remarkable rather for accompHshment 
 and elegance, than for strength of mind. Sinking 
 under her affliction, and unable to endure the 
 scene of her married life, she almost immediately 
 on her husband's death abandoned Sandford Hall. 
 The old mansion, which had been for generations 
 the pride of tlie family, was demolished ; much 
 valuable timber cut down, and further injury 
 done to the property, from which it has not yet 
 recovered. She herself removed with her family 
 to Bath. Here she was, at that time, sure to 
 meet the refined and cultivated society suited to 
 her taste ; and here she first formed an intimacy 
 which, more than any other, contributed to 
 mould the mind and character of her second 
 son. 
 
 The name of Bowdler is familiar to every one 
 v/ho is conversant with the literature of his coun- 
 try ; and it is associated in the minds of all who 
 ever heard it with sentiments of veneration and 
 respect. In her friendship with the ladies of this 
 family, Mrs Sandford enjoyed the pleasure for 
 which her cultivated mind prepared her ; and in 
 one of them her son Daniel found a friend 
 who, for nearly sixty years, displayed towards 
 him a maternal affection, and who has seen him 
 enter before her on his rest. 
 
 To this lady's sister, the amiable and accom- 
 plished Mrs Harriet Bowdler, piety may now be 
 
MEMOIR. 5 
 
 permitted to prefer its tribute.* She was a 
 woman of perfect benevolence, of Christian 
 breeding, of unaffected goodness. She aided 
 the cause of rehgion by her pen, and adorned it 
 by the virtues of youth, and by the cheerfulness 
 of her green old age. It was once said, in allu- 
 sion to the exuberance of her charity, that all 
 her friends were born before the fall ; it might 
 be added that her own character beautifully 
 exemplified the way in which its ruins may be 
 repaired. To have known her was a privilege ; 
 to have enjoyed her good opinion an honour that 
 may gild the tomb of departed worth. 
 
 Daniel Sandford, when quite an infant, through 
 some awkwardness on the part of his nurse, had 
 suffered a serious injury in his eyes. The cele- 
 brated Dr Darwin, who attended his mother, 
 afterwards endeavoured to repair the mischief, 
 but without success. He published, however, in 
 a periodical work, an account of his experiments 
 on this occasion, in which his patient is described 
 as a " sweet and amiable child." 
 
 * This exemplary lady died very recently in Bath, only a few 
 Meeks after she had thus expressed herself respecting- Bishop Sand- 
 ford to one of his family : " You cannot doubt my aflfectionate sym- 
 pathy, or the warm interest Avhich I must ever take in those who 
 were most dear to the blessed saint whom you have lost. I loved 
 him in his childhood, and in his riper years I have looked up to him 
 M-ith heartfelt respect and veneration ; but the account which you 
 give of his death makes me lose every other feeling- in gratitude to 
 God for such a glorious example, and only wish, though I scarcely 
 hope, that my last end might be like his." 
 
6 MEMOIR. 
 
 At the time of his mother's removal to Bath, 
 the subject of this memoir was only four years 
 old, and was sent with his brothers to the 
 grammar school, where he received his ele- 
 mentary instruction. His mother, however, 
 trusted much more to the natural parts, and 
 assiduous habits of her sons, than to the as- 
 sistance of masters. It may be questioned how 
 far with most children her plan of education 
 would have answered; but, it appears, that she 
 used to incarcerate them for a certain number 
 of hours every day, and that, on their release, 
 the task was generally found to have been 
 mastered. On the same principle she never 
 allowed her son Daniel the aid of a writing 
 master, and yet it is well known, how beautiful 
 was his penmanship. He used to say himself, 
 and quote Lord Chesterfield in support of his 
 assertion, that any man, with the use of his eyes 
 and fingers, might write what hand he pleased. 
 Mrs Sandford's sons were indeed occasionally 
 very differently employed during these hours of 
 imprisonment from what she supposed, for they 
 were none of them deficient in those mischievous 
 propensities, without which a schoolboy must be 
 either better or worse than the generality of his 
 species. On most occasions, however, the boys 
 were on honour, and she had no reason to regret 
 the confidence reposed in them. Whatever may 
 have been the merit of this domestic system of 
 education, to his intercourse with the Bowdler 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 family, and to his early introduction into polished 
 and intellectual circles, Mr Sandford owed much 
 of his literary taste, as well as of his elegance of 
 mind and manner. Admitted, when still a boy, 
 to the drawing rooms of the Duchess of Portland, 
 and of the celebrated Mrs Delany, and accus- 
 tomed to the conversation of the most intellectual 
 persons, he saw and heard every thing that could 
 interest and instruct. Such society must have 
 been very profitable and delightful, and he loved 
 to revert to it in after years, though he always 
 spoke of it with a sigh, as what he should never 
 see again. Not that he was insensible to the 
 intelligence and improvement of modern days, 
 but he thought there was a closer affinity between 
 high breeding and elevated sentiment than many 
 men imagine, — that ruffles and brocade were 
 useful fences of society, and that what the present 
 age gained in ease, it lost in refinement. He 
 sometimes regretted that the days were gone 
 when birth and breeding were preferred to 
 wealth, when the gradations of society were 
 definitively marked, when the gentleman might 
 be known by his address, and the mistress dis- 
 tinguished from her maid. Mr Sandford seems 
 to have been always of a delicate habit ; but 
 when about fourteen years old, he had a violent 
 fever, which confined him to bed for several 
 weeks, and greatly impaired his constitution. 
 As the fever reached its crisis, he was, for some 
 time, insensible, and his life was despaired of. 
 
8 MEMOIR. 
 
 The first sign of returning consciousness was 
 displayed by his shooting a marble which lay on 
 the pillow at a friend who had watched continu- 
 ally by his bed-side. At the laugh which accom- 
 panied this exploit, Mrs Sandford clasped her 
 hands, exclaimed. Thank God ! and burst into 
 tears. You may be thankful, said the lady, but 
 I have nearly lost my eye. Throughout his 
 illness this affectionate friend divided with his 
 mother every anxiety ; and to her tenderness, 
 under God, he always gratefully attributed his 
 recovery. 
 
 Soon after this, it appears, that he was placed 
 at Southampton, together with the present earl 
 of Bristol, under the charge of a clergyman, of 
 the name of Watson, afterwards preferred to the 
 rectory of Rothbury in Northumberland. Mr 
 Watson was an accomplished scholar, and pro- 
 bably did justice to his pupil's education, — but 
 he was a man of coarse mind, and it was greatly 
 to Mr Sandford's satisfaction, that he was 
 removed from his charge, and entered as a 
 commoner at Christ Church in 1784. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Those that seek me early ^ shall find me." — Pro v. viii. 17. 
 
 At no period did this noble college present a 
 better opening to a young man of piety and 
 conduct than at this time, when it flourished 
 under the superintendence of that great and 
 good man, Dr Cyril Jackson. Gifted with un- 
 common powers of discernment, and as steady 
 in his attachment as prompt in the selection of 
 its objects, Dr Jackson understood the characters 
 of all the young men committed to his care, 
 and fixed at once upon those who would do 
 credit to their college, and distinguish them- 
 selves in life. 
 
 It was no little honour to be favoured with 
 the countenance of such a man; and it was 
 always a source of honest pride to Mr Sandford 
 that, at the commencement of his academic 
 course, and through life, he was distinguished 
 by his friendship. He encouraged him to apply 
 to him on all occasions, frequently directed him 
 privately in his studies, and treated him, at all 
 times, with the most flattering confidence. 
 
 In furtherance of the views which this parti- 
 ality encouraged, Mr Sandford was, at the 
 
10 MEMOIR. 
 
 request of the Duchess of Portland, appointed 
 by Dr Moss, then Bishop of Oxford, to a stu- 
 dentship of Christ Church. A path was thus 
 opened to any office to which the kindness of 
 the Dean and his own good conduct might in- 
 troduce him. Nor was he himself w^anting in 
 those exertions which might at once justify and 
 advance the intentions of his friend. At a time 
 when there were few of the incentives to study 
 which now inflame the assiduity of youth, when 
 reading had neither the example nor the en- 
 couragement it now has, and when he was 
 surrounded by temptations to idleness, did he 
 steadily devote himself to the pursuits, for the 
 prosecution of which he had been sent to college. 
 He had, indeed, all that tenderness of con- 
 science, and all that manly and honourable 
 feeling, which are required to carry a young 
 man through such a scene with consistency and 
 success. He lived in the best society of Christ 
 Church, for his maxim was, that a young man 
 should keep such society or none at all, — but he 
 was never known to indulge in idle expense, or 
 to forget for a moment that, to be respectable, 
 his style must be in keeping, not with that of his 
 companions, but with his own means and ex- 
 pectations. — Nothing can be a greater solecism 
 in taste as well as principle, than for a man of 
 limited means, whom talent or connection has 
 associated with his superiors in rank or affluence, 
 to attempt to vie with them in their own peculiar 
 
MEMOIR. 11 
 
 province. The man of sense and virtue keeps 
 his own ground. He knows that his recom- 
 mendation should consist, not in imitation, but 
 in originaUty ; not in extravagant expenditure 
 or attire, but in accompHshment and address. 
 Mr Sandford was, therefore, esteemed as well as 
 liked, — he never sought the society of men of 
 rank, but he was always found in it, — for there 
 was no disputing his pretensions, which were 
 those of birth and scholarship. He never con- 
 curred in the opinion, that as we descend in the 
 scale of society we shall find virtue and piety 
 increase, — and doubtless his own experience jus- 
 tified his incredulity. Among his intimate 
 associates were the late Eiui of Liverpool, and 
 the present Lord Bexley, the latter of whom 
 never forgot his college friendship, and was one 
 of the very first to testify to his widow, after 
 his death, the esteem which he had always en- 
 tertained for her deceased husband. 
 
 Mr Sandford was greatly distinguished while 
 at Oxford for accurate and accomplished scho- 
 larship, and especially for the correctness and 
 elegance of his latinity. Li 1787> he won the 
 Christ Church prize for Latin composition j and 
 so well was his style known in college, that, 
 on more than one occasion, when he had fur- 
 nished exercises for his friends, his assistance 
 was immediately detected by the Dean. 
 
 Every one knows the influence which waking 
 thoughts exercise on the mind in sleep. Mr 
 
12 MEMOIIl. 
 
 Sandford used to mention an instance which 
 occurred to himself while engaged in the com- 
 position of his successful essay. Having been 
 much occupied, before he retired to rest, with 
 some refractory sentiment which he was unable 
 to reduce to words, he dreamed that a form 
 appeared to him, and like Order in the fairy 
 tale, adjusted his entangled thoughts, and 
 clothed them in elegant latinity. On awaking, 
 he availed himself of the suggestion, and the 
 passage was afterwards pointed out to him by 
 the Dean as the happiest in the essay. It 
 does not appear whether he acknowledged at 
 the time the assistance he had received. He 
 used to regret that Latin composition was less 
 insisted on now, than it had been in his youth, 
 as he always considered this accomplishment 
 to be the surest test of scholarship. He himself 
 retained and cultivated his talent for it to the 
 last ; and it was the ground of much delightful 
 intercourse in Edinburgh with that accomplished 
 scholar, and amiable man, Dr Gregory. 
 
 At the seat of the Duchess of Portland, where 
 he spent his vacations, when not at Windsor 
 with Mrs Delany, he imbibed a taste for 
 botany, which supplied him with an innocent 
 and graceful relaxation in later life. He was 
 an ardent disciple of Linnaeus, in this interest- 
 ing branch of natural history, — and none ever 
 discoursed more sweetly or instructively on such 
 themes, or led the hearts of those who listened 
 
MEMOIR. 13 
 
 to him with more easy and unaffected piety 
 from nature to its God. He used to roam 
 the fields in the neighbourhood of Oxford in 
 the pursuit of his favourite science, and dedi- 
 cated to it most of the hours which were not 
 devoted to graver studies. His relaxations 
 were not, however, always of so sylvan a char- 
 acter. His adroitness in the management of 
 an Indian canoe upon the river excited the 
 admiration of his compeers, and was one of the 
 most popular attractions of Christ Church mea- 
 dow. This was, however, a more perilous 
 enjoyment than his botanical pursuits, — for he 
 was no swimmer, and his exhibitions were at- 
 tended with some personal risk. On one occasion 
 he was nearly drowned through the spleen — and 
 at another time through the awkwardness — of an 
 associate. 
 
 It has been observed, that the present genera- 
 tion will probably revert to academic life with 
 more of pride, but less of kindly feeling, than 
 the former did. A few years ago, too much 
 time was given to society, — with the better 
 order of young men, at the universities, reading 
 is now, perhaps, too exclusively the object. 
 The only desire with these seems to be, to 
 cram, with or without digestion, as much know- 
 ledge as possible with a view to a dazzling 
 appearance in the schools. A few succeed, — 
 many more, and those often not the least meri- 
 torious, fail of the distinction they aspire to. 
 
14 MEMOIR. 
 
 — and some, through ill health or nervousness, 
 draw back, when at the very goal, and retu'e 
 from the scene of their exertions the victims of 
 disappointment and chagrin. Authority has 
 done every thing to regulate this passion, — to 
 secure sound learning as well as brilliancy in 
 the candidates for honours, — but as long as the 
 distinction is so dazzling, youth will consider 
 it the first object of ambition, and covet more 
 the laurel than the knowledge it implies. 
 
 But in Mr Sandford's time study was less 
 often carried to excess ; — those who read did 
 so rather from literary taste than from desire of 
 distinction ; and the result, if less splendid, 
 was, in most cases, more satisfactory. Reading 
 men spent their time as profitably and virtu- 
 ously then as now, and they could afterwards 
 revert to the university as the scene of much 
 intellectual and innocent happiness, and as the 
 source of many valuable friendships, while their 
 retrospect was seldom clouded by the recollec- 
 tion that their health had been undermined, or 
 their expectations disappointed. 
 
 All Mr Sandford's recollections of college 
 life were pleasing, and he used to speak of the 
 six years of his residence at Oxford as the hap- 
 piest he ever spent. — He was a thorough Christ 
 Church man, and he never discoursed more 
 delightfully than when he spoke of its august 
 walk and classic meadow ; of its wits in his 
 own day, the elegant Spencer, and the classic 
 
MEMOIR. 15 
 
 Canning ; of its awful censorship, and vener- 
 able Dean. His attachment to the university 
 was, indeed, sincere and constant, and a connec- 
 tion with it was, at any time, a sufficient 
 introduction to his society. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Mrs Delany has been already mentioned as one 
 of the persons who contributed to form Mr 
 Sandford's character. Her house at Windsor was 
 always open to him, and he generally spent a 
 great part of his vacations under her roof. In 
 her drawing-room he used to meet most of the 
 distinguished people of the day, and, by her, he 
 was early introduced to the notice of royalty. 
 The intimacy with which this lady was honoured 
 by the late king and his illustrious consort is well 
 known. They not only allowed her free access 
 to themselves at all times, but were frequently 
 in the habit of visiting her at her own house 
 without intimation. On several of these occa- 
 sions Mr Sandford was with Mrs Delany when 
 she was thus distinguished, and his own merits 
 aided the recommendation of his friend in se- 
 curing the favour of the queen. Her majesty 
 condescended to employ him while at Oxford in 
 the translation of a favourite author from the 
 French, and her kindness naturally encouraged 
 hopes of future professional advancement. That 
 these hopes were not subsequently realized was 
 not owing, it w^ll appear, to any want of kind 
 intention on the part of the queen. 
 
MEMOIR. 17 
 
 His studies at Oxford were interrupted by 
 the illness of his mother : — and, by the permis- 
 sion of the Dean, he left college and confined 
 himself entirely to her sick room. His devoted- 
 ness at this time greatly injured his health, and 
 almost endangered his life. Never leaving his 
 mother's side, while he felt he could be of any 
 service, he spent the whole day in her room, in 
 which, in the height of summer she had a fire 
 burning, and it was not until he was deprived by 
 paralysis of the use of one of his arms, that the 
 physician could draw him from her apartment. 
 From the stroke of paralysis he speedily re- 
 covered, but the illness which accompanied it 
 told severely on his constitution. 
 
 No one was ever better fitted by habits and 
 pursuits for academic life than he was. Pos- 
 sessing neither health nor disposition for more 
 public scenes, he loved the seclusion as well as 
 the leisure of the cloister, and had he remained 
 at Christ Church would have enjoyed and 
 adorned the office for which Dr Jackson design- 
 ed him. But the intentions of his friend w^re 
 defeated, and his future prospects determined by 
 that common occurrence which spoils so many a 
 hopeful academician. 
 
 In 1786, he had become acquainted with Miss 
 Douglas, whose father, after fighting, on the side 
 of the Chevalier, through the forty-five, and 
 sharing the subsequent fortunes of his master, 
 had some years before returned from France, and 
 was then residing at Bath. 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
18 MEMOIR. 
 
 Mr Douglas was a man full of chivalrous 
 sentiment, highly accomplished, and of the most 
 courtly address. He was the son of Sir William 
 Douglas, Baronet, of Kelhead in Dumfriesshire, 
 whose representative is the present Marquis 
 of Queensberry. The manner of his introduc- 
 tion to his royal master is singularly illustrative 
 of the state of feeling at that time prevalent 
 in Scotland, and will account for his subsequent 
 devotedness to Charles Stuart. As this prince 
 passed Kelhead on his march into England, 
 Lady Douglas appeared at the foot of the avenue 
 with two of her sons, whom she presented with 
 the following Spartan address : " Please your 
 royal highness, here are my two sons ; if they 
 don't do their duty in a manner worthy of their 
 name, hang them on the first tree." 
 
 Erskine Douglas accompanied his master in 
 his disastrous expedition, and in his subsequent 
 retreat, and was exposed to many perilous 
 adventures. At one time he and his companions 
 were preserved by the fidelity of a former 
 domestic of his mother's, by whom they were 
 apprized of the treachery of their host, who had 
 sent for troops to secure them. Their retreat 
 was accomplished over the garden wall, which 
 afforded Mr Douglas an opportunity of exhibit- 
 ing his gallantry in aid of an unfortunate friend, 
 afterwards taken and beheaded. This gentle- 
 man was of a corpulent habit, and being unable 
 to climb the wall must have fallen into the hands 
 
MEMOIR. 19 
 
 of his pursuers, had not his more agile associate 
 assisted him over on his shoulders just as the 
 king's party entered the garden: — one of the 
 fugitives, who was rash enough to return for his 
 purse, was taken. For some time Mr Douglas 
 wandered about in disguise as a female mendi- 
 cant, and in that character made his appearance 
 at Queensberry House in Edinburgh, and with 
 great difficulty gained admittance to his mother, 
 Lady Douglas, who supplied him with a more 
 suitable attire. Under a feigned name he found 
 an asylum in the houses of different friends, and 
 was sometimes present when his own perils were 
 the subject of conversation. On one occasion, 
 when some one was deploring the fate of poor 
 Erskine Douglas, and expressing a fear lest he 
 had been taken, a young lady in the company 
 betrayed her interest by fainting. However he 
 might have been flattered by such a disclosure 
 on her part, he had sufficient self-command to 
 keep his own secret. After the battle of Cullo- 
 den, in which he encountered one of his brothers 
 on the opposite side, he made his escape to the 
 continent, where he remained with prince 
 Charles Edward for several years. He never 
 spoke of the prince but with tears in his eyes, 
 as *' his dear master." 
 
 Mr Sandford's marriage with this gentleman's 
 eldest daughter in 1790, at the age of twenty- 
 four, was considered by his friends to be justified 
 by his expectations from Windsor. He had 
 
20 MEMOIR. 
 
 been previously admitted to deacon's orders in 
 Christ Church Cathedral by the bishop of 
 Chester, and immediately on his marriage he 
 removed to Sunbury, from which he served 
 the adjoining curacy of Hanworth. 
 
 In the following year he was ordained priest 
 by the amiable and exemplary Porteous, then 
 bishop of London. On this occasion, he strik- 
 ingly exhibited the deep sense which he enter- 
 tained of the responsibility of the priestly office. 
 Overcome by his feelings during tlie celebration 
 of the service, he fainted at the altar, and it 
 was necessary to remove him from the church. 
 Bishop Porteous conveyed him home in his 
 carriage, and ever afterwards distinguished him 
 by his friendship. During liis stay at Hanworth 
 he was frequently invited to Fulham, and had 
 opportunities of cultivating an acquaintance 
 which had been so singularly commenced. To 
 know Bishop Porteous was to love him, for he, 
 if any one, adorned by his own virtues the 
 religion he so unweariedly taught, and the hours 
 which Mr Sandford spent in the society of this 
 holy man, were among the most pleasing recol- 
 lections of his youth. 
 
 That he would be disposed to make full proof 
 of his ministry, might be inferred from his 
 previous character. He had, on one occasion, 
 rather a singular opportunity of doing so. Driv- 
 ing home, late at night, he was stopped by a 
 highwayman who, in no very equivocal manner, 
 
MEMOIR. 21 
 
 intimated his wislies by presenting a pistol to 
 his breast. It is recorded of a venerable but 
 eccentric clergyman still living, that he expos- 
 tulated so effectually with a footpad, who 
 accosted him in the same way, that the rogue 
 abandoned his vocation, and being received into 
 the household of his admonisher, served him 
 faithfully for forty years. Mr Sandford was not 
 so curious in his choice of his domestics, nor 
 was he so successful in the result of his remon- 
 strance, — but to his purse he appended an 
 admonition which excited the ruffian's surprise, 
 though it elicited no very courteous acknowledg- 
 ment. " So, then, you are a parson," quoth he, 
 " and you are a simpleton too, for if you had 
 lighted your lamps, no man would have dared 
 to stop you." Mr Sandford inquired how he 
 should dispose of any of the same honourable 
 fraternity whom he might encounter on the road. 
 " Oh, say that you gave all your money to the 
 gentleman on the grey horse." 
 
 At the close of this year, Mr Sandford lost 
 his brother John. He was his favourite in the 
 family, and by his piety, furnished one of many 
 instances, that whatever be the peculiar tempta- 
 tions of the navy, there is nothing in the 
 circumstances of that profession incompatible 
 with morals and religion. His boyish passion 
 for the sea was quite enthusiastic, and did not, 
 as is sometimes the case, wear off with the 
 gloss of his uniform. It overcame the objec- 
 
S2 MEMOIR. 
 
 tions of his mother, who long resisted his 
 importunity, and was only induced to yield 
 when she saw his desire was insurmountable. 
 ** Daniel," said this determined tar, " I never 
 hide any thing from you, for I know you are 
 to be trusted, — do you see that wall ? Over 
 that wall I go this night, and off to Bristol, 
 and I will get on board one of the ships, and 
 away to sea, for I can live no longer on land. 
 Now, don't you go and tell my mother." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs Sandford, on her son's 
 forthwith disclosing to her his brother's project, 
 " and what do you think I should do ?" *' Why, 
 mamma, I would take him to Admiral Darby, 
 and send him to sea like a gentleman." 
 
 John Sandford was present at the memor- 
 able siege of Gibraltar. He had good hopes of 
 rising in his profession through the interest of 
 his connection, the earl of St Vincent, and his 
 kind friend Admiral Kempenfelt. The latter 
 officer's partiality to him was so great that he 
 was encouraged by it one day respectfully to 
 remonstrate with him on his profane habit of 
 swearing. The Admiral thanked him for his 
 adWce, and assured him with an oath that he 
 would not so oifend again. It is well known that 
 Admiral Kempenfelt perished in the Royal 
 George when that vessel was sunk, by an ex- 
 traordinary accident, in harbour. It was a lovely 
 day : the water was studded with pleasure boats, 
 and the decks of the Admiral's ship were covered 
 
INJEMOIR. 23 
 
 with the crew, and with the women who were 
 washing their clothes. John Sandford was stand- 
 ing in a vessel near, and turned to a friend to 
 remark, " if the Royal George takes another 
 such lurch, she will go down." He looked back 
 again, and there was nothing to be seen but a 
 huge black keel, and a raging swell of waters. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "/« doctrine shoiving uncorruptnessr — Titus il. 7. 
 
 Self-denial was a grace which Mr Sandford 
 rehgiously practised. On the other hand, hbera- 
 Uty to others assumed, in him, ahuost the cha- 
 racter of weakness. It w^as scarcely in his nature 
 to refuse a request, and the consequence was, 
 that his was the reward generally assigned to 
 disinterested persons. With the whole of his 
 patrimony, which amounted to some thousand 
 pounds, and whicli was punctually paid, he parted 
 on the very day he received it, and, except in a 
 solitary instance, the friends who were indebted 
 to him never made even an offer of repayment. 
 Under these circumstances, as a residence at 
 Sunbury proved very expensive, and he had no 
 immediate prospect of preferment, he was in- 
 duced to entertain the suggestion of Mrs Sand- 
 ford's relations in Scotland, who recommended a 
 temporary residence in Edinburgh. They kindly 
 represented the advantage w^hich might accrue 
 to an English clergyman of popular talents, 
 who should open a chapel in that city, and be 
 disposed to receive pupils into his house. And 
 
MEMOIR. 25 
 
 as Mr Sandford thought his friends in England 
 were not hkely to neglect his interests during 
 his absence, and was himself averse to no per- 
 sonal exertions, by which he might benefit others, 
 and honourably provide for his family, he quitted 
 his curacy at Sunbury, and took up his resi- 
 dence at Edinburgh in 1792. 
 
 At this time the state of society in that city 
 presented an aspect widely different from what it 
 does at the present day. Eminent then, as now, 
 as a seat of learning, and distinguished for the 
 talents of its instructors in every department, the 
 character of Edinburgh as a seat of philosophy 
 was nevertheless extremely questionable. Though 
 Robertson and Blair, while they fascinated the 
 world by their writings, had done much for the 
 principles, as well as for the taste of their fellow- 
 citizens, — though Erskine will ever occupy an 
 elevated rank in the list of Scottish divines, and 
 Stewart and Playfair commanded admiration by 
 their amiable qualities as well as by their talents, 
 yet were the men who now adorn its university 
 and fill its pulpits, reserved for a brighter era, — 
 sceptical opinions dressed in an attractive style, 
 and recommended by the virtues, as well .as by 
 the genius of their authors, at that time pre- 
 vailed to an alarming extent. The young men, 
 fond of speculation, and vain of limited attain- 
 ments, were easily smitten with doctrines, which 
 they judged to possess the double attraction of 
 originality and of independence. And not a few 
 
26 MEMOIR. 
 
 of riper years lent their weight of character to 
 views, which were then accredited as the badge 
 of intellect. 
 
 When, therefore, Mr Sandford was introduced 
 to the literary circles in Edinburgh, he found 
 them as intellectual and brilliant as those to 
 which he had been accustomed, but charac- 
 terised at the same time by a very different spirit. 
 The tone of society was altogether dissimilar to 
 that of the circles in which he had moved in 
 England. There conventional rule was supreme 
 — here it was little regarded, — there prescription 
 was every thing — here originality was the zest 
 of conversation, — mind had been the presiding 
 influence among his cultivated associates in the 
 south — but it was mind of a formal character — 
 every thing was regulated by the strictest eti- 
 quette, and the same mannerism displayed in 
 sentiment as in carriage or attire. Men thought, 
 as well as expressed themselves by rule, and a 
 crude or paradoxical opinion would have excited 
 as much consternation as a breach in politeness. 
 And though we may marvel at all this, and think 
 what a solecism Dr Samuel Johnson must have 
 been in this well dressed and well bred coterie — 
 yet we must admit that restraint is not without 
 its use — and that if there was less of vivacity 
 and nature, there would be also less of coarseness 
 and of error. 
 
 But in Edinburgh the drawing-room was more 
 of an arena where a speaker might hazard any 
 
MEMOIR. 27 
 
 -*/ 
 
 thing which he had abiUties to defend, and 
 where, if a man heard some wise and many witty 
 things, he would also encounter much that was 
 unsound and insidious. As a diffident man Mr 
 Sandford was often embarrassed at the promi- 
 nence which his religious sentiments gave to him 
 in circles where he was anxious only to listen; 
 yet his reserve ever yielded on such occasions 
 to a sense of duty, and there are persons liv- 
 ing who can attest the gentle dignity with which 
 he vindicated truth, when assailed by tliose whose 
 mental powers were of the most commanding 
 character. 
 
 Religion does not always thrive best when its 
 profession is popular ; and doubtless, as there 
 were at that time in Edinburgh fewer empirics 
 in theology, male or female, than at present, so 
 there might be many pious Christians who were 
 not the less sincere because they did not court 
 observation. But in general, vital religion was 
 at a low ebb ; if men were not sceptical they 
 were indifferent, and even where preaching at- 
 tracted notice, doctrines were imperfectly un- 
 folded and feebly enforced. 
 
 Mr Sandford's views were never marked by 
 the slightest extravagance, but his tone as a 
 preacher was always grave and impressive ; and 
 from the first his primitive goodness procured 
 him many friends. Men were weary of mere 
 declamation and moral sentiment — they needed 
 the substantial nutriment of truth, and they wel- 
 
28 MEMOIR. 
 
 corned a preacher whose views were sober as 
 well as elevating, and who was ever more an- 
 xious to edify than to attract. It might indeed 
 be said of his discourses, that they realised the 
 standard proposed by Bishop Burnet, and sent 
 away his hearers thinking of themselves, rather 
 than discussing their instructor. 
 
 His congregation at first was chiefly composed 
 of English families residing in Edinburgh, and 
 as the place in which he officiated was of limited 
 dimensions, was necessarily small. The want, 
 however, of increased accommodation soon be- 
 came apparent, and a proposal was made by the 
 clergy of another episcopal chapel to associate 
 him in theu^ cure. But he declined this offer, 
 and by the exertions of some of his hearers, a 
 subscription was raised in a few days, for the 
 erection of a suitable place of worship. This 
 was opened for divine service in 1797* under the 
 name of Charlotte Chapel, and in it Mr Sand- 
 ford remained until his removal to St John's 
 in 1818. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 " TJie lot is cast into the lap." — Prov. xvi. 33. 
 
 It has often been observed, that there is much 
 of poetry in every day Hfe, and that there are, 
 perhaps, few individuals whose history, if truly 
 narrated, would not exhibit incidents as marvel- 
 lous as the most interesting fictions of romance. 
 And, indeed, the wonder is, not that such phe- 
 nomena should occur, but that, considering the 
 multitude of relations in which men are placed, 
 and the variety of circumstances which these 
 relations educe, there should be so much that is 
 monotonous and uniform in the course of life. 
 
 Few men enter life with better professional 
 prospects than Mr Sandford did, and few men, 
 in passing through it, have enjoyed likelier op- 
 portunities of fortune, — yet it would appear as 
 if God, in a special manner, meant to teach 
 him to walk not by sight, but by faith, — for 
 not one of his most promising prospects was 
 realised, and much of his prosperity came from 
 quarters whence he least expected it. 
 
 It was his own pious remark, that there might 
 be that in him which required bodily affliction, — 
 that it was, in fact, the answer to prayer, — and 
 doubtless, every other ingredient in his cup was 
 
30 MEMOIR. 
 
 mixed with the same gracious intention. — Yet 
 as no man was ever less dependent on affluence 
 for happiness, — so are his disappointments to 
 be regarded rather as occasions for the display 
 of his heavenly mindedness, than as corrections 
 of infirmity. — Happier than his favourite exem- 
 plar, Hooker, in some circumstances of his lot, 
 he yet resembled him in primitive disinterested- 
 ness and simplicity of mind. 
 
 Wealth was not in his horoscope. In early 
 life, he had been urged by a family friend, with 
 fortune, and without children, to make choice of 
 a secular profession. — And his pious preference 
 of the church in this instance, as it afterwards 
 appeared, lost him a bequest of £70jOOO' 
 
 But, perhaps, the incident now about to be 
 narrated is one of the most striking instances 
 of the methods, by which God weaned him from 
 the world, and instructed him to seek his treasure 
 in heaven. One morning in September, 1801, a 
 packet reached him from Bath, which, on being 
 opened, was found to contain a caricature and 
 some other squibs, and was accordingly returned 
 to the Post Office. On the succeeding day 
 arrived a letter bearing the same post mark, 
 and purporting to come from a lady whose name 
 was unknown to any of the family, with informa- 
 tion that a solicitor had been inquiring after 
 the family of Sandford — and in particular for 
 himself, at the request of an old gentleman of 
 the same name, possessed of riches, who wished 
 
MEMOIR. 81 
 
 to present him with a valuable living, and from 
 whom he might cherish further expectations. 
 
 Livings seldom go a-begging, and heirs are 
 not often to be sought for when rich old men 
 are in question, — and the present letter was, 
 therefore, naturally considered as a repetition of 
 the witticism of the preceding day, and destined 
 to the same fate. A friend, however, (the Kev. 
 Sydney Smith) to whom the circumstance was 
 mentioned, knew, by name, the old gentleman 
 alluded to, and by his advice an answer was 
 returned, — intimating that Mr Sandford was the 
 person for whom inquiry was made. In reply, 
 the name and address of the solicitor were given, 
 with an episode on the " immense riches" of the 
 old heirless gentleman. — He was very wealthy, 
 — very old, — very ill, — and very anxious for an 
 heir. This was followed by a letter from the 
 solicitor, dictated by his employer, confirmatory 
 and interrogatory, especially as to the number 
 and names of Mr Sandford's children. A second, 
 written in the same way, enclosed a draft for 
 £100, as a testimony of regard, and a proof that 
 the inquiry was not suggested by idle curiosity. 
 
 Most men would have been somewhat anxious 
 to come into closer contact with this man of 
 gold, and to have known the nature and ex- 
 tent of his intentions — but Mr Sandford was 
 satisfied to intrust his cause to the disinterest- 
 edness of an attorney whom he had never seen, 
 and to the kindly feeling of an old humourist 
 
Sk memoir. 
 
 who had never seen hmi. He sent the old man 
 a volume of sermons which he had lately pub- 
 lished, and dedicated by permission to the Queen, 
 and then felt that he had done all that a gentle- 
 man could do to secure the smiles of fortune, 
 and establish himself in the good graces of her 
 favourite. 
 
 It would not, perhaps, have been surprising 
 if nothing further had been heard of the patron 
 or of his attorney — but, at the end of six months 
 it was communicated that the former was "in a 
 deplorable state of health, and without hope of 
 alleviation," and an earnest wish was expressed 
 that Mr Sandford could make it convenient to 
 see him, as a visit might be attended with the 
 greatest advantage. Mr Sandford was, at this 
 time, engaged in watching by the sick bed of a 
 dear friend, and, at first, he determined not to 
 leave home. But the entreaty of his friend pre- 
 vailed on him to take the journey, at the close of 
 which he was introduced to his opulent name- 
 sake. He is described in a letter from Mr 
 Sandford to his wife, as a " handsome good- 
 humoured man of eighty-two, and when out 
 of pain, which was seldom the case, very lively." 
 The old gentleman expressed himself as pleased 
 with him, and delighted with his sermons, and 
 the agent, who was directed to conduct him over 
 the estate, and to point out the living attached 
 to it, assured him of the extent and certainty of 
 his prospects. 
 
MEMOIR. 33 
 
 It is amusing, but at the same time delightful 
 to observe the composure with which one, who 
 was never of the world, writes to the confidante 
 of his most secret thoughts, upon a subject which 
 would have agitated most men. The only allu- 
 sion which he makes to his prospects is this ; — 
 " unless something very untoward happens, I 
 
 shall be a shire laird, — from what L 
 
 tells me, I am sure of this fine property, in the 
 most lovely county you ever saw." 
 
 From his namesake's house he repaired to 
 Oxford, and took his Doctor's degree ; saw, for 
 the last time, his venerable friend the Dean of 
 Christ Church, and then hurried back to his 
 pastoral charge in Edinburgh. He had made 
 an effort, — but was too delicate to follow up his 
 prospects with the urgency which would have 
 marked a worldly mind. The old man grew 
 worse, — made his will — died — and, instead of his 
 splendid fortune, a legacy of £700 was the re- 
 ward of Mr Sandford's delicacy. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 *' Though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and 
 the water of affliction, yet shall not thy teachers be 
 removed into a corner any more." — Is. xxx. 20. 
 
 Dr Sandford had now been for some years 
 officiating in Edinburgh as a Presbyter of the 
 Enghsh church, and his character was generally 
 known and respected. But his situation had 
 been hitherto anomalous, and one, in which a 
 conscientious and scrupulous mind could not be 
 entirely at ease. He had been officiating as an 
 Episcopal clergyman without the recognition of 
 Episcopal authority. The prelates of his own 
 church were of course neither empowered nor 
 disposed to exercise jurisdiction in Scotland, 
 and, for the sanction of Scottish Episcopacy, he 
 had not yet felt himself at liberty to apply. 
 
 The cause of his scruples will be found in 
 the existing circumstances of the church in 
 which he was so soon invited to preside, and 
 involves a point of ecclesiastical history which 
 ought to be interesting to every pious and 
 consistent churchman. 
 
 The Episcopal church of Scotland has an 
 indisputable claim to all that respect to which 
 suffering for conscience sake can entitle a com- 
 
MEMOIR. 35 
 
 miinity. It is well known, how, from the 
 enjoyment of ascendancy proudly maintained, 
 and of authority often abused, she was not only 
 deprived of political existence, but degraded to 
 the condition of an outlawed sect. 
 
 The change in her position was not less sud- 
 den than it was complete. A single interview 
 with royalty, it would appear, decided her fate.* 
 Nor could any other result be expected. The 
 uncompromising reply of her representative 
 Bishop could scarcely incite to a more courteous 
 treatment, in a day when restraints were thought 
 essential to security, and when the policy of 
 toleration was little understood. 
 
 She might indeed still have enjoyed immunity 
 on condition of abjuring her former allegiance, 
 but preferring to " stand by it in the face of all 
 dangers and to the greatest losses," t she with- 
 
 * The conversation between William III, and Rose, then Bishop 
 of Edinbiu-gh, is thus related by the latter : — 
 
 " My lord, are you going- for Scotland?" My reply was, " Yes, 
 Sir, if you have any commands for me." Then he said, " I hope 
 you will be kind to me, and follow the example of England." 
 Wherefore, being somewhat difficulted how to make a mannerly 
 and discreet answer, without entangling myself, T readily replied, 
 " Sir, I will serve you, so far as law, reason, and conscience, will 
 allow me." How this answer pleased I cannot well tell, but it 
 seems the limitations and conditions of it were not acceptable : 
 for, instantly, the prince, without saying any more, tiu-ned away 
 from me, and went back to his company. — Skinner's Ann. of Sc. 
 Episcopacy, Preface, 17. 
 
 f Reply of the Bishop of St Andrews to the Duke of Hamilton. 
 — Skinner's Preface, p. 18. 
 
36 
 
 MEMOIR. 
 
 drew from legal protection, and laid herself open 
 to the attacks of those whom recent injuries had 
 inflamed. These became rulers in their turn, 
 and, with all the bitterness of party irritation, 
 acted as informants, accusers, and judicial func- 
 tionaries. Fresh jealousies arose, and fresh 
 restraints were enacted. Fines, transportation, 
 and imprisonment, awaited the officiating non- 
 juring minister ; disqualification from civil or 
 military office was the forfeiture incurred by 
 his congregation. 
 
 From the reign of Queen Anne to the close 
 of the last century, the penalties were in force, 
 and, though the lenity of a benevolent monarch 
 restrained their execution, the Episcopalians of 
 Scotland were still as an oppressed remnant, 
 who owed their safety to privacy and oblivion. 
 They were not indeed compelled to seek refuge 
 in caves or deserts, but they met in private 
 rooms and concealed closes for congregational 
 worship, and avoided all display of outward 
 ceremonial. Yet they maintained a separate 
 communion, and preserved inviolate Episcopal 
 succession : they endured persecution and sur- 
 vived neglect, and persevered in their hopeless 
 attachment even to the last. 
 
 Their allegiance expired only with its object. 
 On the demise of the heir of the House of 
 Stuart in I788, their political scruples were re- 
 moved. They acknowledged the right, as they 
 had felt the power, of the House of Brunswick : 
 
MEMOIR. 37 
 
 they hastened with a free conscience to present 
 their homage, and, with a sincerity which none 
 could question, to promise an attachment as 
 devoted to the reigning family as they had 
 shown to the ancient line. The insertion of the 
 royal names in their Liturgy, as in that of their 
 sister church, was agreed to in Synod, and, 
 from that moment, their loyalty has been 
 unimpeachable. 
 
 But the pains and penalties remained in force ; 
 and, though justice required their removal, legal 
 caution retarded relief. After, therefore, a du- 
 tiful address to the king on his recovery in 1789, 
 three of the bishops repaired to the English 
 metropolis, to seek redress from the great 
 council of the nation. Very different was the 
 condition of these lowly men from that of the 
 last Scottish bishop who had been admitted to 
 Whitehall. Unknown almost by name to the 
 great officers of state, and equally so to many 
 of their brother prelates — strangers alike to 
 pomp and etiquette, they met not with success, 
 equal either to the merit of their cause, or to 
 their own expectations. The prejudices of a 
 great man, better versed in the temporal than 
 in the spiritual rights of the church, was the 
 effectual hindrance to their suit. A slight infor- 
 mality committed by the bishops ; a want of 
 information which the Lord Chancellor Thurlow 
 did not care to obtain ; a weight of business 
 more important than the relief of a few op- 
 
38 MEMOIR. 
 
 pressed individuals, — induced him first to move 
 for the postponement of the bill, and afterwards 
 to continue his opposition to it for two successive 
 sessions. 
 
 The prelates returned disappointed, and as 
 blame usually attaches to failure, there were not 
 wanting unquiet spirits to impugn the conduct 
 of these venerable men. " Ye take too much 
 upon you," is the language generally addressed 
 by contumacy to ecclesiastical superiors, espe- 
 cially when, like their prototype of old, they 
 are " very meek above all men upon the face 
 of the earth." 
 
 Yet the bishops acted with the coolness of 
 men who were conscious of rectitude ; and 
 having vindicated their conduct, and received 
 from a full synod approbation and thanks, they 
 were appointed members of a committee, w^hich, 
 at this time, was organized to carry on the 
 proceedings with discretionary power. Most 
 valuable and timely aid was also afforded by 
 Providence, in the espousal of their cause by the 
 Hon. Mr Justice Park, (then King's Counsel,) 
 Dr Gaskin, and Mr Stevens. These gentlemen, 
 unsolicited, formed themselves into a corre- 
 sponding committee, and to their wise and 
 pious endeavours, is Scottish Episcopacy mainly 
 indebted for the toleration she at present enjoys. 
 
 Among other valuable friends whom the good- 
 ness of God raised up at this crisis to the 
 Scottish Episcopal communion, were those bright 
 
MEMOIR. 39 
 
 ornaments of the English bench, the unconi- 
 promismg Horsley, and the samtly Home. 
 FeeHng, as they did, the deepest concern for 
 the sufferings of this afflicted remnant, and 
 acknowledging, as they could not but do, the 
 validity of the Scottish Episcopal order, they 
 sympathised fully in the grievances of their 
 brethren, and persevered in efforts to obtain 
 redress. The former, especially, engaged with 
 much zeal in the cause of Scottish Episcopacy, 
 and successfully vindicated her character and 
 her claim, when the Lord Chancellor Thurlow, 
 yielding at last with an ill grace, endeavoured 
 to prejudice a petition, which decency forbade 
 him longer to oppose. The master mind of the 
 Bishop of St David's detected at once the w^eak- 
 ness of his antagonist, and reduced the question 
 to its simplest form ; and so eloquently did he 
 enforce the appeal, that the bill was carried into 
 a committee without a division. There it under- 
 went considerable alterations, and received the 
 royal sanction the last day of session, 1792. 
 
 During the whole proceedings. Bishop Horsley 
 omitted no occasion of testifying his respect for 
 the relic of Episcopacy preserved in Scotland, 
 oppressed though it was, and deprived of all civil 
 protection and temporal power. As a church- 
 man, he considered a connection with the state 
 in no way essential to a valid episcopacy. As 
 a churchman too, he distinguished between the 
 political and ecclesiastical power of bishops. 
 
40 MEMOIR. 
 
 And every one who regards Episcopal govern- 
 ment as something more than a mere human 
 pohty, entertains this distinction, and is ready to 
 avow that he is bound in conscience to respect 
 the spiritual, far more than the temporal, autho- 
 rity of his diocesan. As a subject, he must 
 render obedience to authority in church and 
 state ; as a member of an Episcopal communion, 
 reverence for an order which he believes to be 
 sanctioned by apostolic rule, is to him a christian 
 duty. And if, as in a former revolution. Epis- 
 copacy in England should again be severed 
 from the state, — if, as some even now apprehend, 
 a Protestant Episcopal establishment should no 
 longer be thought essential to the British con- 
 stitution, — if indifference, or scepticism, or error, 
 should so far prevail, that the church, which 
 has been so long regarded as the glory of our 
 land, should be cut off as a useless branch, the 
 conscientious churchman is prepared to adhere 
 to the doctrine and discipline which he has 
 voluntarily embraced ; and to prove, that there 
 is that in his religion, which will support him in 
 the day of trial. He is therefore anxious to 
 prove the sincerity of his principles, and to show 
 that they are not to be affected by circumstance 
 and locality. And, in proportion as the sanction 
 is weak and unaided by the secular arm, will a 
 delicate piety be ever more scrupulously respect- 
 ful, and shun even tlie appearance of contumacy. 
 To the national church of Scotland, Ej^isco- 
 
MEMOIR. 41 
 
 pacy was at this time indebted for an important 
 service. The wish so uniformly expressed by 
 the Presbyterian estabUshment, that the Scottish 
 EpiscopaUans should be freed from restraint, 
 contributed in no slight degree to their enlarge- 
 ment. It was natural that a man so benevolent 
 as Dr Robertson, should advocate the cause of 
 a suffering community ; and his intimate ac- 
 quaintance with the history of his country, as 
 well as his virtues and distinguished talents, 
 doubtless added weight to his opinion. Nor 
 were there wanting testimonials from the Presby- 
 terian clergy and laity of Scotland, to the good 
 conduct, loyalty, and protestantism of their fel- 
 low subjects — testimonials by no means unim- 
 portant ; for such was the ignorance of the 
 English senate, of the principles of Scottish 
 Episcopacy, and such their oblivion of its former 
 estate, that it was gravely proposed, as a question 
 involving discussion, whether a church, agreeing 
 in faith and polity with the ecclesiastical estab- 
 lishment of England, using the same ritual, and 
 once equally authorised by law, was " fit to be 
 
 tolerated." 
 
 Yet had Parliament been better informed, 
 
 bound as they were to guard the existing estab- 
 lishment of Scotland, they could not have been 
 uninfluenced by the sentiments expressed by the 
 members of the Presbyterian church. Their 
 assurance that they apprehended no ill from the 
 relief of Episcopacy, and that they wished the 
 
42 MEMOIR. 
 
 penalties removed, had considerable effect, and 
 confirmed the friends to extended toleration in 
 the truth and justice of their views. 
 
 The Episcopalians of Scotland acknowledged, 
 with gratitude, the relief which God in his 
 mercy had vouchsafed them. They were now 
 free to worship him after the manner of their 
 fathers. The statutes which had so long vexed 
 them were repealed. To the laity nothing was 
 prohibited, except the joining in religious ser- 
 vices where prayers for the king should not be 
 offered. And the clergy, too, were virtually 
 relieved ; for, though still liable to a mitigated 
 penalty, unless taking the oaths of allegiance 
 and abjuration, and subscribing the Thirty-nine 
 Articles of the English Church ; and though 
 none of them immediately conformed to either 
 condition, — no countenance was given to infor- 
 mers, and the Episcopalian minister might safely 
 confide in the benevolence of the public, and in 
 the mild execution of the laws. The oath of 
 abjuration, as far as it was retrospective, the 
 existing bishops and presbyters of the old Epis- 
 copal Church of Scotland could not indeed 
 conscientiously take ; and though concurring in 
 the doctrines of the English Church, as expres- 
 sed in her Articles, and adopting her ritual,* 
 
 * The Scottish Episcopal C^hurch used, at that time, the form 
 for the administration of the communion which is appointed in tho 
 Prayer Book of Ednard VI. 
 
MEMOIR. 43 
 
 with one exception, they did not see the expe- 
 diency of subscribing her valuable confessional, 
 or the possibility of separating the conditions 
 required by the act. 
 
CHAPTER VIL 
 
 " Endeavouring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond 
 of p)eace." — Rom. iv. 8. 
 
 The penal statutes, however, being thus repeal- 
 ed, a few of the English Clergy presiding over 
 congregations in Scotland, accepted the invita- 
 tion addressed to them by the superiors in the 
 Scottish Episcopal Church, and acknowledged 
 their respective Diocesans. This step received 
 the approbation of the then Bishop of Durham, 
 and other prelates of the English bench. 
 
 Yet as the Episcopal Church of Scotland had 
 not given the pledge demanded of her, and 
 had not adopted the confessional of the Church 
 of England, it could scarcely be expected, that 
 her sons should unite with a communion, of 
 tlie orthodoxy of which they might indeed be 
 assured, but which could not refer to a perma- 
 nent standard.* 
 
 * From the Reformation to the Revolution, the Scottish Con- 
 fession which was sanctioned in Parliament, 1560, formed the 
 Confession equally of the Episcopalian and Preshyterian Churches, 
 as they were alternately established. At the Revolution in 1688, 
 the Presbyterian Church adopted the Westminster Confession ; — 
 the Episcopalian Church from that period had no Confession. 
 
MEMOIR. 45 
 
 The mind of Dr Sandford had been for some 
 time affected with the difficulty of his situation. 
 When he first came to Edinburgh, Scottish 
 Episcopacy was just emerging from the cloud 
 under which she had been so long obscured. 
 The penalties were just removed, and from that 
 time the stigma of disaffection was effaced. But 
 though her Bishops and Clergy had some years 
 before tendered their allegiance, and (non-juror, 
 or) Jacobite, and Episcopalian had ceased to be 
 convertible terms, there were still a few who 
 adhered to their old principles, and who refused 
 to do homage to the house of Hanover. 
 
 Female fidelity is proverbial ; and though the 
 young Chevalier could no longer steal the hearts 
 of the Scottish dames, his beauty and perils 
 had formerly interested them in his cause, and 
 kindled a flame not easily to be extinguished. 
 Soon after the subject of these notices had 
 commenced officiating in Edinburgh, his atten- 
 tion was attracted by the movements of an old 
 lady in his congregation, who was in the habit 
 of starting from her knees dming the most 
 solemn parts of divine service. Not suspecting 
 that political scruples were the cause of her 
 conduct, he was on the point of remonstrating, 
 when he was informed, that if he was offended 
 at her indecorum, she was not less so at his 
 conformity ; and that in her estimation, prayer for 
 the house of Hanover, as the royal family of 
 England, was little short of sacrilege. 
 
46 M E M O I R. 
 
 But such sentiments soon became as obsolete 
 in the North, as in the South. The Scottish 
 Episcopal Church had been recognized by the 
 legislature, and her loyalty was no longer ques- 
 tioned. The want of a confessional was esteemed 
 therefore the only bar to a union between her, 
 and English Episcopalians residing in Scotland. 
 It was not liowever till September, 1803, that 
 this opinion, in which Dr Sandford was not 
 singular, was communicated to the Primus of 
 the Scottish Episcopal College. A correspon- 
 dence immediately commenced between him and 
 Bishop Skinner, in which he respectfully sug- 
 gested, that however anxiously a union might 
 be desired, the subscription of the Thirty-nine 
 articles was indispensable to its accomplishment. 
 He stated it, at the same time, as his decided 
 judgment, that, were the Thirty-nine articles 
 made the permanent confessional of the Scottish 
 Episcopal communion, the continuance in sepa- 
 ration of the English Clergy, could not be justi- 
 fied on any ground which would bear the scrutiny 
 of ecclesiastical principles. 
 
 These communications shortly led to the end 
 so much desired. A synod convened at Lau- 
 rencekirk, adopted and subscribed the Thirty- 
 nine articles of the Church of England, without 
 addition or alteration, as the permanent standard 
 of the Scottish Episcopal Church, to be hereafter 
 subscribed by all her candidates for orders. 
 
 Dr Sandford, without further hesitation, united 
 
M E M O I R. 47 
 
 himself and his congregation to her communion, 
 acknowledging the Bishop of Aberdeen as his 
 Diocesan,* and accepting and subscribing the 
 terms of agreement proposed. That the English 
 Clergy should be free to use their own Eucharis- 
 tic Liturgy when officiating in Edinburgh, was 
 an express article of union. 
 
 Dr Sandford's address to his congregation on 
 this occasion, was a simple statement of the 
 arguments w^hich had determined his course ; 
 in w^hich he at once set forth the benefits of 
 Episcopal surveillance, and proved that a con- 
 tinuation of separation was causeless, and conse- 
 quently schism.atic. 
 
 His example was followed by Mr Alison and 
 his congregation ; by Mr Morehead, afterwards 
 Mr Alison's coadjutor ; and by others qf the 
 English Clergy. 
 
 Two attempts only were made to disturb the 
 peace of this humble Zion. An officious layman 
 vainly endeavoured to destroy, by a legal pro- 
 cess, the union of a Scoto -Anglican congrega- 
 tion ; and an English Divine residing in Scotland, 
 displayed his ignorance of Church government 
 by an apology for schism. Legal, however, as 
 well as public opinion was in favour of the union. 
 Its adversaries benefited its cause ; the first, by 
 giving occasion to the English bench to testify 
 
 * Dr Abernethy Drumraond, Bishop of Edinburgh, haviuo- 
 lately resigned his charge, the see of Edinburgh was at this time 
 vacant. 
 
48 MEMOIR. 
 
 their interest in Scottish Episcopacy, by defray- 
 ing the expense of the legal defence ; the latter 
 by eliciting from her constant patron the follow- 
 ing decisive opinion.* " The Clergymen of 
 English or Irish ordination, exercising their 
 functions in Scotland without uniting with the 
 Scottish Bishops, are, in my judgment, doing 
 nothing better than keeping alive a schism." 
 To the judgment of Bishop Horsley it were 
 well if modern separatists deferred. 
 
 The see of Edinburgh had been recently 
 vacated by the retirement of Dr Abernethy 
 Drummond, and it was evident that important 
 interests were involved in the appointment of 
 his successor. Very much is it to the honour of 
 the clergy of Scottish ordination, that, under 
 such circumstances, they should have unani- 
 mously recommended a stranger to the vacant 
 office. To Dr Sandford Episcopalians were 
 mainly indebted for the union they enjoyed, 
 and his manners, character, and connections, 
 eminently qualified him for the Episcopate of 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 The effect, however, of this appointment on 
 his own prospects was at least very questionable ; 
 and it was, therefore, only natural that many of 
 his friends should dissuade him from accepting 
 it. Especially did the Dean of Christ Church, 
 
 Letter of Bishop Horsley. Skinner's Annals, 39. 
 
MEMOIR. 49 
 
 with his wonted sagacity, represent to him the 
 prejudice that might possibly accrue from such 
 a position to his advancement in England. And, 
 as this remonstrance came from one who may be 
 almost said to have held the keys of clerical 
 preferment at that period ; who had, in his own 
 person, more than once refused the Episcopal 
 dignity, and had as often named a Bishop, it 
 was calculated to have considerable weight. But 
 Dr Sandford's happiness was involved in what 
 he considered a duty ; and to this he would 
 willingly, at any time, have sacrificed his personal 
 interests. 
 
 His consecration, accordingly, took place at 
 Dundee, on the 9th of February, 1806. The 
 Primus Bishop Skinner of Aberdeen, Bishop 
 Jolly of Moray, and Bishop Watson of Dunkeld, 
 were the officiating prelates. Mr Walker, the 
 friend of Dr Sandford, and now his successor 
 in the diocese of Edinburgh, preached on this 
 occasion ; and his sermon, which excited consi- 
 derable interest, has been given to the world. 
 
 Yet if Bishop Sandford's acceptance of his 
 sacred office was not dictated by motives of 
 worldly prudence, and therefore received no 
 secular reward, his humble spirit could not but 
 have been gratified by the manner of his elec- 
 tion. The testimony of one of the most valued 
 friends of Scottish Episcopacy must have given 
 him peculiar pleasure. "With my whole heart," 
 writes the venerable Sir William Forbes, " do I 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 MEMOIR. 
 
 congratulate you, as well as myself, on the 
 happy election this day of a Bishop of Edin- 
 burgh, of the most primitive and exemplary 
 character, to whose conscientious sense of duty, 
 and to whose steady perseverance in the conduct 
 which he believed he ought to pursue, I do 
 verily believe we owe the happy union that 
 has taken place among all who are attached 
 to Episcopal principles ; and which, I doubt 
 not, will, in no long time, become universal all 
 over Scotland." 
 
 The effects of Bishop Sandford's Episcopate 
 were immediate, and they have been progressive. 
 The present state of that branch of the church 
 over which he presided, contrasted with its 
 condition when he accepted its charge, is per- 
 haps the best criterion of his usefulness. 
 
 Yet in England his appointment was regarded 
 in some quarters with suspicion ; and a prelate 
 of the English bench, to whom Dr Sandford 
 was personally known, scrupled not to affirm, 
 that it was both uncanonical and inexpedient. 
 The elevation of an English Presbyter to an 
 Episcopate in Scotland, it was thought, would 
 lead to questions of great difficulty and delicacy, 
 and it was feared might also excite some jea- 
 lousy in the National Establishment. These 
 questions of difficulty, however, never occurred ; 
 and the uniform kindness with which Bishop 
 Sandford was always regarded by the Presby- 
 terian ministers of Edinburgh, proved at once his 
 
MEMOIR. 51 
 
 own fitness for the station lie filled, and their 
 superiority to the sentiments of which they 
 were suspected. He was convinced in his own 
 mind of the propriety of his election ; and in 
 the correspondence in which he engaged on this 
 subject, whilst he rendered the respect that was 
 due to the station and ability of his opponent, 
 he never compromised his own opinion, or relin- 
 quished his own right. 
 
 The discussion ceased, and the Bishop of 
 Bangor was probably convinced ; yet if he no 
 longer interfered with the elevation of a Pres- 
 byter of the English establishment to an Episco- 
 pate in an unendowed church, he still regarded 
 the dignity of the one as incompatible with the 
 emolument of the other. To him Bishop Sand- 
 ford was mainly indebted for the disappointment 
 of his hopes from the highest quarter ; for when 
 the illustrious person, by whose commands he 
 had been honoured in his youth, wished to 
 testify her approbation of his character and cle- 
 rical labours, Dr Sand ford's acceptance of a 
 Scottish Episcopate was urged as an insurmount- 
 able obstacle to his advancement in his own 
 church. The valuable preferment, therefore, in 
 the vicinity of Windsor, which had been destin- 
 ed for him, was otherwise appropriated. What- 
 ever might have been the feeHngs with which 
 he heard of this diversion of his royal mistress's 
 patronage, he had too much delicacy to make 
 it a subject of complaint, and too much tender- 
 
52 MEMOIR. 
 
 ness to communicate it even to those who were 
 most entitled to his confidence. It was through 
 another channel that his own family were in- 
 formed of it. He himself seemed concerned 
 only to perform the unobtrusive duties of his 
 station ; and the increasing prosperity of the 
 communion over which he presided, was his 
 reward. The proof of this prosperity will be 
 found in the number of clergy under the juris- 
 diction of the Bishop of Edinburgh having 
 increased during his Episcopate from seven 
 to twenty-five ; of whom five, formerly inde- 
 pendent, submitted themselves to his control, 
 and seven officiate in congregations recently 
 formed, and sanctioned for the first time by 
 himself As a member of the Episcopal college, 
 he was ever regarded by his brother prelates with 
 affection and respect, and his assistance in their 
 councils, especially in the preparation of the 
 Canons, by which the Episcopal church of Scot- 
 land is governed, will be readily admitted. 
 
 Of the sentiments entertained for him by his 
 own clergy, the Memorialist is happy to avail 
 himself of the following testimony, from the 
 pen of one of the most distinguished of their 
 number, the amiable and accomplished author of 
 the Essay upon Taste. In an eloquent and 
 affecting discourse delivered by him, in St Paul's 
 Episcopal chapel, on the Sunday succeeding the 
 Bishop's interment, he thus expresses himself: 
 " With the clergy of his own church no acces- 
 
M E M 1 R. §S, 
 
 sion of dignity ever raised Bishop Sandford above 
 the brotherhood of the Gospel, or induced him 
 to employ his authority but for the obvious 
 purposes of peace and order. With respect to 
 the clergy of the established church, on the 
 other hand, and of the various religious persua- 
 sions with which he was surrounded, no dif- 
 ferences, either in doctrine or discipline, ever 
 separated him from uniting with them in every 
 work or labour of Christian love, or from com- 
 bining with them, whenever the good of man 
 could be consulted, or the glory of God be 
 displayed. In assuming the Episcopal office, 
 indeed, he seemed to assume nothing of it but 
 its duties. The sole spirit which he cherished, 
 and for which he prayed, was that spirit of 
 charity, which thinketh no evil, but which, in 
 the cause of heaven, and of the salvation of 
 man, beareth all things, believeth all things, 
 
 hopeth all things, endureth all things 
 
 It was by this humble magnanimity, by this 
 spirit of gentleness and moderation, that he 
 conciliated the esteem and affection of the wise 
 and good of every persuasion ; so that numbers, 
 whom political apprehensions had separated, now 
 again openly united themselves with the church 
 of their fathers, and that all conscientious 
 members of the church of England willingly 
 joined themselves to those congregations, where 
 they found the doctrines of their own church, 
 and the celebration of their own ceremonies. 
 
54> MEMOIR. 
 
 " If, therefore, my brethren, we now rejoice 
 in the prosperity of our communion ; if it is 
 grateful to us to see those prejudices dispelled 
 which once marred all our usefulness and 
 respectability ; if the established church of the 
 country receives us as fellow-servants of the 
 same Lord, and fellow-workmen in the same 
 mighty cause ; if we can behold with gratitude 
 the towers of our churches rising amidst the 
 splendid improvements of this city, and testify- 
 ing the liberality as well as the piety of the 
 country, let it never be forgotten to whom we 
 owe them. Let it be remembered that it is, 
 under God, to the piety, to the wisdom, and 
 to the charity of Bishop Sandford, that the 
 success of that great measure of the union of 
 our churches is justly to be ascribed ; and in 
 the calendar of that united church let his name 
 from henceforth be first and foremost enrolled!" 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again^ even so 
 them also ivhich sleep in Jesus will God bring with 
 him."— I Thes. iv. 13. 
 
 Bishop Sandford used frequently to remark 
 upon the law of compensation, which charac- 
 terizes the divine procedure: and in 'his own 
 experience this appointment was distinctly ob- 
 servable. Bodily affliction was the medicine 
 measured out to him ; and a more than ordinary 
 share of domestic happiness was the blessing 
 that counterbalanced it. It is easy to discern 
 the benignity of this arrangement ; for he pos- 
 sessed in an eminent degree the passive fortitude 
 whicli endures pain, but his extreme sensibility 
 might have sunk under family misfortune. Of 
 this there was little in his cup. The prosperity 
 of his children was with him a subject of con- 
 stant acknowledgment, and he might have felt it 
 to be the reward of his own exemplary character. 
 It used to be his boast that he had seen his 
 children's children, and peace upon Israel ; and 
 it was equally a source of rejoicing, that in the 
 case of the only child of seven whom he lost, 
 there had been every thing that could assuage 
 a parent's grief. — Eleanor Sarah, his eldest 
 
56 MEMOIR. 
 
 daughter, had attained her twenty-first year, 
 when she was seized with the ilhiess which 
 terminated her Hfe. Amiable and accomphshed, 
 she-was much and generally loved ; and at the 
 time of her death was perhaps of all others 
 the child in whom her father most delighted. 
 Of her early piety there are some delightful 
 recollections ; — she had well improved her reh- 
 gious advantages, and her friends felt when she 
 was taken away, that she had attained the fitting 
 meetness for her rest. — For some weeks before 
 her death she had been residing, on a visit in 
 Berwickshire, at the seat of Sir James Stuart, 
 in the friendship of whose sisters she thought 
 herself happy. So delicate was her general habit, 
 that her last illness at first excited no serious 
 alarm ; and when her family were apprized of it, 
 the Bishop was confined by severe indisposition, 
 and was unable to accompany Mrs Sandford 
 to Allanbank. The intimation of his daughter's 
 danger found him still on a sick bed, — but the 
 following letter will best disclose his feelings : 
 
 " Perhaps I am now addressing my partner 
 in the heaviest sorrow we ever yet experienced. 
 Fervently and humbly have I commended my- 
 self and all I have to Him who is alone wise 
 and good, and implored his strength and support 
 under a trial which I feel to be approaching. 
 I hardly can believe that I am writing this with 
 any degree of collectedness, for never did a 
 father love a child more intensely than I loved 
 
MEMOIR. 57 
 
 my Ellen. I feel it to be an increase of my 
 trial, that I am unable to come to you, — that 
 I am unable to see my child, before 1 lose her 
 on earth. That her humble and pious spirit is 
 in peace, I have no doubt ; and blessed, blessed 
 be God, that he gave her such grace, that of 
 her eternal happiness through Christ, we may 
 not fear. 
 
 " And what remaineth but to say, the Lord 
 gave and the Lord has taken away, and, blessed 
 be the name of the Lord. This is to sin neither 
 in heart nor in lip, and may the God of conso- 
 lation enable us to say so. It is a hard task 
 for poor, infirm human nature to part with its 
 blessings, — to the bottom of my heart do I feel 
 it; but I seek for support under the stroke. 
 
 I write and send E under the conviction, 
 
 broken-hearted as it makes me, that there re- 
 main now those duties only to perform in which 
 I ought to have the chief part. If any thing 
 could add to my sorrow, it is my absence from 
 you and from these duties. 
 
 " What I went through of apprehensions all 
 day and night I need not say. But prayer 
 is my resource. For your sake, and for that 
 of my children, I will be composed ; but I am 
 struck to the earth. Let us pray for one 
 another. God be with you to bless you!" — 
 
 The stroke had fallen before this letter reached 
 its destination, and his misgivings were speedily 
 confirmed by the intelligence, that his beloved 
 
58 MEMOIR. 
 
 child had breathed her last on the twenty-seventh 
 of January, 1815. 
 
 Among his papers after his own decease was 
 found the following prayer, which bears date the 
 day on which the information of his bereavement 
 reached him: "The hand of God is upon us for 
 correction and instruction. Pardon, gracious and 
 merciful Father, the infirmity of nature, which 
 shrinks from the trial. O sanctify this visitation 
 to our eternal good. Enable us at thy bidding 
 to sacrifice the sorrows, as well as the joys of 
 this world. Thou gavest, thou hast taken away, 
 — blessed be thy holy name. I acknowledge 
 before thee, in humility and self-abasement, that 
 I have never sufficiently considered the uncer- 
 tainty of human life; that I have received thy 
 blessings without sufficiently remembering from 
 whose hands they came, and my dependence 
 upon thee. Thou hast been pleased by the 
 removal of my very precious child to teach me 
 my folly and sin. Thou hast taken away the 
 desire of mine eyes with a stroke. To her, I 
 doubt not that the dispensation is one of mercy ; 
 and I thank thee, O unfeignedly do I thank 
 thee, my merciful God, that, according to all 
 human judgment, she was prepared for her 
 awful change by the grace which thou hadst 
 given her. As a parent I bless thee for the 
 comfort which during her life I ever experi- 
 enced from her obedience and dutiful affection. 
 Why, therefore, should I be unwilling to resign 
 
MEMOIR. 59 
 
 her to thy will ? Teach me, blessed Lord, sub- 
 mission. I confess my weakness, — I implore 
 most earnestly that help, which thou alone canst 
 bestow. I feel this sorrow weigh down my 
 heart ; support me, for I am nothing but weak- 
 ness ; support me, that I may resign myself, 
 and all my concerns to thee. From the bottom 
 of my heart do I desire to kiss thy rod, and for 
 the remainder of my life in this w^orld to do 
 nothing but with a view to thy glory, and the 
 forwarding the effects of all thy righteous dis- 
 pensations towards me. Accept, for our Lord 
 Jesus Christ's sake, O Father of mercies, of the 
 poor offering which I bring unto thee : it is a 
 broken and feeble, but a contrite spirit. I would 
 not offend thee with my lamentations; teach me 
 to control them. I know, O Lord, that it is of 
 very faithfulness that thou hast caused us to be 
 troubled, that thou dost not afflict willingly, nor 
 grieve the children of men. May I presume 
 to believe, that we are not cast out from thy pre- 
 sence, when thou chastenest; rather may I not 
 hope that this fatherly chastisement is a proof 
 of love; that thou watchest over us for good, 
 and having seen that we required it, hast brought 
 this trial upon us. O give us grace then to 
 accept and to improve thy chastisement. May 
 it wean us from sin, from vanity, from the world. 
 May this solemn experience of the imbecility 
 of our present condition rouse us to a right use 
 of the time lent us; that, having endeavoured 
 
60 MEMOIR. 
 
 to fulfil thy will, we may be ready when we are 
 also all called away, — that we may hereafter 
 rejoin, and rejoice with her who is gone before 
 us, for ever and ever, in the presence of God 
 and Jesus Christ our Lord." 
 
 It was in this spirit of humble resignation that 
 he bowed his head to the divine infliction. The 
 blow had fallen when he was just hailing the 
 answer to many a prayer, and rejoicing in the 
 virtues and attainments of his child ; but the 
 melancholy which it diffused was purely devo- 
 tional, and only deepened his wonted piety. He 
 cherished the recollection of his daughter as 
 among the influences which were to draw him 
 nearer God and heaven ; but he never aban- 
 doned himself to grief, and his language was 
 that of David, I shall go to her, but she shall 
 not return to me. Such, however, to his 
 feelings, was the sacredness with which her 
 memory was invested, that, till the hour of 
 his death, he was scarcely ever known to breathe 
 her name in conversation, though there were 
 sufficient indications that her image was seldom 
 a stranger to his thoughts. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Build the house ; and 1 will take pleasure in it, saith 
 
 the Lord" — Hag. i, 8. 
 " / have never seen the righteous forsaken^ — Ps. xxxvii. 
 
 25. 
 
 There has often been an outcry raised against 
 the expensive decoration of churches. This 
 may be sometimes the expression of an honest 
 feehng, but it is as often dictated by penurious- 
 ness or selfishness. Especially is it suspicious 
 when it proceeds from those, who are costly in 
 their own appointments, and would seem to 
 imply that decoration is only then to be depre- 
 cated, when it is bestowed upon the temple of 
 God. Architectural ornament is a mere ac- 
 cident of worship, and perhaps there may be 
 something more really imposing in the rudest 
 shed, in which public prayer is offered in the 
 wilderness, than in the most splendid fanes of 
 civilized countries ; but the same sentiment, 
 wliich induces the temporary settler to erect his 
 temporary Bethel, would induce him to add 
 decoration when that is within his reach. We 
 should, at least, question tlie piety of a people, 
 whose churches were the only hovels on the soil. 
 
62 
 
 MEMOIR. 
 
 The Episcopalians of Scotland had been glad 
 a few years before, to worship God in secret, 
 under the humblest roof that could afford them 
 shelter. It was only natural that, under cir- 
 cumstances entirely different, they should wish 
 the character of their religious edifices to 
 correspond with that of the times, and with the 
 condition of their own Church. To this senti- 
 ment alone should be attributed the improved 
 appearance of the Episcopal Chapels in Scotland, 
 especially of those recently erected in Edin- 
 burgh. It would have been an unpardonable 
 solecism if edifices, in which much of the rank 
 and affluence of Scotland is assembled, had not 
 been somewhat in keeping with the other 
 splendid improvements in the Northern Me- 
 tropolis. 
 
 For twenty years. Bishop Sandford had 
 officiated in the Chapel erected for him soon 
 after he settled in Edinburgh; — in 1818 he had 
 the happiness of consecrating for his congregation 
 the chapel of St John's, which is an elegant 
 specimen of florid Gothic, and forms one of the 
 most striking features of this splendid city. It 
 was built by voluntary contribution, and will 
 long attest the munificent spirit which erected 
 it, and serve as a lasting monument to him, 
 who first officiated within its walls. 
 
 Several allusions have been already made to 
 Bishop Sandford's delicate state of health. The 
 illness, under which he laboured for many years, 
 
MEMOIR. Q3 
 
 by which he was tried and purified, and which 
 eventually terminated his life, originated in one 
 of those slight indiscretions, which are so often 
 the foundation of serious complaints. 
 
 It was in 1795, that he caught cold through 
 exposure to the rain in thin shoes, and the 
 complaint thus induced, bade defiance to medi- 
 cal skill, and caused him almost continued 
 suffering for thirty-five years. 
 
 In 1820, it appeared to have reached its 
 crisis, and, for some weeks his life was despaired 
 of; prayer was offered up for him in the 
 church, and several of his family who were in 
 the South, were sent for to receive his blessing. 
 His sufferings in body were acute, but on such 
 occasions his character always shone forth with 
 peculiar lustre. A few years before, he had 
 undergone a most excruciating operation without 
 a murmur, — in the present instance, though his 
 sufferings frequently amounted to agony, his 
 affiance and composure were not, for a moment, 
 disturbed. He was ready to depart; he could 
 trust God with his family, and he gently 
 expostulated with his weeping children, and 
 bade them not desire that he should live. It 
 appeared likely that life would be at best but a 
 prolongation of suffering, and his other prospect 
 was that of a land, in which there is no more 
 pain. 
 
 His family had however cause to adore the 
 loving kindness, which spared him to their pray- 
 
64 MEMOIR. 
 
 ers. His pains were indeed continued ; but 
 many were his seasons of temporary ease ; he 
 Uved to see all his children happy and prosper- 
 ing around him, and at length fell asleep, when 
 he had serv^ed God for nearly half a century, 
 and when even his youngest child had been 
 blessed with his affection for nine and twenty 
 years. 
 
 He united his eldest surviving daughter in 
 1816, to the Rev. Charles Lane, and his two 
 younger daughters were afterwards married, the 
 elder to Montague Baker Bere, Esq. of Moorbath 
 House, Devon, and the younger to James Ed- 
 mund Leslie, Esq. junior of Leslie Hill, in the 
 county of Antrim. In these marriages, there 
 was all that he could have desired for his 
 children. 
 
 It is to the praise of Scottish liberality that, 
 in a Presbyterian University, two of Bishop 
 Sandford's sons should have obtained, the one, 
 the assistance of an exhibition for the prose- 
 cution of his studies at Oxford, the other, a 
 permanent appointment as Professor. In the 
 distinction which both obtained at Oxford, 
 Bishop Sandford rejoiced as a father, and as an 
 Oxonian ; and as his approbation had been the 
 incentive, so w^as it the dearest reward of their 
 labours. 
 
 In 1827, his last worldly anxiety was removed 
 by the kindness of the present Bishop of Dur- 
 ham. His friendship with this distinguished 
 
MEMOIR. 65 
 
 prelate, which began at Oxford, knew no 
 interruption in after years, and his Lordsliip's 
 early presentation of his youngest son to the 
 Vicarage of Chillingham, could not but be re- 
 garded as a most flattering proof of the sincerity 
 and warmth of his regard. 
 
 From that moment Bishop Sandford felt that 
 he had no farther room for temporal solicitude ; 
 that he had only to praise God for his goodness, 
 and to anticipate with holy watchfulness his 
 own removal from the world. He had often 
 indulged an idea of resigning his Episcopal 
 charge, and spending his declining years in the 
 society of his several children. But it was other- 
 wise appointed — and he retained until the last his 
 connection with a church with which he had been 
 so long and so honourably associated. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 " The end of that man is peace." — Psal. xxxvii. 37. 
 
 The leading circumstances of Bishop Sandford's 
 life have been narrated, and the Diary which 
 accompanies this Memoir, will supply the notice 
 of his last years. Many had been his blessings, 
 and in the midst of much bodily affliction, he 
 had ever felt and acknowledged them. 
 
 The time was now come when he was to 
 encounter the last enemy, and then inherit the 
 portion for which his comforts as well as his 
 sufferings were intended to prepare him. Mercy 
 and truth had followed him all the days of his 
 life, and they were to uphold him at its close, to 
 light up his expiring features, and wake his 
 dying song. 
 
 On Christmas, 1829, he, for the last time, 
 administered the Lord's Supper to his congre- 
 gation, over which he had presided for thirty- 
 eight years. There was a peculiar sacredness 
 about his manner of dispensing this rite, — an 
 earnest, but subdued devotion, which showed 
 itself in his frequent involuntary tears, in the 
 tremulousness of his voice, in the fervour 
 with which he uttered the words of the affect- 
 
]M E M O I II. 67 
 
 ing and comprehensive blessing. On this oc- 
 casion he saw two hundred and ninety-four 
 communicants gather round the table, and par- 
 took, for the last time in public, of the symbols 
 which he had so often dispensed. 
 
 The festivals were to him delightful seasons, 
 and none was more so tlian that of the nativity, 
 which he always spent in the society of his 
 family. But on that day, on his return from 
 church, he was taken very ill, and retired im- 
 mediately to bed. He felt himself that it was 
 the breaking up of his frame, the loosing of 
 the pins of his frail tabernacle ; and others saw 
 that he was now ripe, and that the time drew 
 near when he should be gathered to the garner. 
 
 God sometimes gives his people intimation 
 of approaching death, and it is evident, from 
 Bishop Sandford's Diary, that he had such a 
 presentiment. As his increasing sufferings pro- 
 moted this conviction, he retired more frequently 
 to his own rooms, and sat chiefly in his inner 
 apartment. Here he communed with his own 
 heart, and was still ; and here he imbibed 
 strength for his approaching trial. Many who 
 had intercourse with him shortly before his last 
 illness, will remember circumstances which prove 
 that his own mind was occupied with death ; and 
 his family could frequently observe, that how- 
 ever selfishly they might wish to detain him 
 longer amongst them, it was in his own heart to 
 depart and be with Christ. His exposition at 
 
68 MEMOIR. 
 
 family worship became more than ever impres- 
 sive, his views more elevating and encourag- 
 ing, and his conversation more exclusively re- 
 ligious. 
 
 On Sunday the 29th of December, he de- 
 livered his last sermon, on these words, from 
 Deuteronomy xxxii. 29- '* O that they were wise, 
 that they understood this, that they would con- 
 sider their latter end." He believed that he 
 was never more to stand up before his people in 
 God's name, and his own words were, " The 
 voice which now addresses you may never again 
 be heard in this place." Within those walls his 
 living voice was heard no more ; his ministra- 
 tions on earth were ended, and he had only 
 now to seal them with the testimony of his dying 
 bed. 
 
 On the first of January he became so ex- 
 tremely ill that his physicians were immediately 
 sent for, and one of them, on approaching his 
 bed, exclaimed, " he is just on the wing for 
 eternity." By the application of powerful sti- 
 mulants, he was, however, partially recovered, 
 and continued for several days to struggle with 
 disease. His sufferings were excruciating, but 
 his was always the triumph of mind over body, 
 and he bore them with perfect resignation. 
 " Lord," said he, "if it be thy will, heal thy 
 servant, if not, take him to thyself." In the 
 language of praise he seemed to find strength 
 and relief j and the words of that noble and 
 
MEMOIR. 69 
 
 elevating hymn, the Te Deum, were continually 
 on his lips. During the most violent paroxysms 
 of pain, he frequently exclaimed, " mercy, all is 
 mercy ;" and again, *' Christ is my salvation ! 
 what mercy in all his dealings ! thank God, it 
 is the body that suffers, not the mind !" 
 
 There were indeed intervals of ease when his 
 family, who had so often seen him suffer, en- 
 couraged hopes of his recovery, and even his 
 physicians were doubtful of the issue. The 
 bishop himself, though he owned that his suf- 
 ferings were intense, does not appear to have 
 expected that their termination would be im- 
 mediate. " Go back," said he, on the Tuesday 
 before his death, to one of his sons, whom an 
 intimation of his illness had hurried into Edin- 
 burgh, *' Go back to your dear wife and chil- 
 dren, and to your delightful duties ; if I recover, 
 never can I repay this proof of your affection ; 
 if I die, you will think of it with comfort." 
 Thus grateful was he to the last for the slightest 
 acts of duty ! Immediately afterwards he ex- 
 pressed a wish that other members of his family 
 should not be sent for ; " The weather," said he, 
 " is very severe, why should they be exposed to 
 it?" 
 
 For several nights one or other of his family 
 had sat up with him, and to them he frequently 
 expressed himself in terms of the liveliest gra- 
 titude for the most trifling attentions, while they 
 were, at the same time, blessed in beholding 
 
70 MEMOIR. 
 
 his beautiful patience and almost continual devo- 
 tion. On the day preceding his death, although 
 no immediate danger was apprehended, his family 
 remained with him all day, and he seemed deeply 
 affected by their watchful care. " All this kind- 
 ness," he repeatedly exclaimed, " is the effect 
 of Christianity. I nmst die, for I never can 
 return this debt of gratitude." Then he said, 
 *' It flashed across me in the pulpit that I should 
 never preach within those walls again, but they 
 will get a better minister." He spoke of the 
 " forgiveness of sins," as a topic on which he 
 should have wished to expatiate once more ; 
 but when it was remarked, as he pursued the 
 train of religious sentiment thus awakened, that 
 his " words were very precious ;" his humility, 
 unvaried to the last, was shown in the imme- 
 diate reply : *' Do not tell me so, they are no 
 more precious than those of any other sinner." 
 
 A lady of his congregation had sent him 
 a splendid edition of his favourite Milton, think- 
 ing he might be amused by the illustrations. It 
 lay on his bed, and he recited several passages 
 with great strength of voice, and with all that 
 chasteness of delivery, which marked his exqui- 
 site reading of that poet. Immediately, how- 
 ever, he recurred to his Greek Testament, which 
 was a favourite pocket edition, and which, dur- 
 ing his illness, had been continually in his hand. 
 He then repeated the following verses from the 
 30th chapter of Isaiah, which seemed to occupy 
 
MEMOIR. 71 
 
 his mind : " And therefore will the Lord wait, 
 that he may be gracious unto you, and therefore 
 will he be exalted that he may have mercy upon 
 you : for the Lord is a God of judgment : 
 blessed are all they that wait for him. For the 
 people shall dwell in Zion at Jerusalem. Thou 
 shalt keep his house : he will be very gracious 
 unto thee at the voice of thy cry ; when he 
 hears it he will answer thee. And though the 
 Lord give thee the bread of adversity and the 
 water of affliction, yet shall not thy teachers 
 be removed into a corner any more, but thine 
 eye shall see thy teachers." He stopped as if 
 he had forgotten the next verse, and his son- 
 in-law, Mr Lane, took it up : *' And their ears 
 shall hear a word behind them, saying, this is 
 the way, walk ye in it, when ye turn to the right 
 hand, and when ye turn to the left." " Yes," 
 replied he, " their ears shall hear a word behind 
 them." 
 
 During the whole of this day, though he suf- 
 fered under exquisite pain, no complaint escaped 
 him : his anguish was discovered only by involun- 
 tary moanings, the convulsive motion of his 
 hands, and the moisture which stood upon his 
 brow. Towards evening his sufferings increased, 
 and large quantities of laudanum were adminis- 
 tered to allay the pain. In the night an attack 
 of paralysis ensued, and in the morning it was 
 evident, from a slight affection in his face and 
 from his extreme difficulty in breathing, that 
 
72 MEMOIR. 
 
 the conflict would soon be at an end. The opiates 
 administered during the preceding day and night 
 had produced partial deUrium, and a great degree 
 of stupor, and he did not appear to notice any 
 one ; but he had whispered to his son-in-law, 
 " be with me when I die," and his family hung 
 around his bed. The physicians observed, that 
 no relief from this oppression could be hoped for, 
 but that it would gradually increase until all was 
 over. 
 
 It would have been a bitter trial to his family 
 to have been severed from him thus, without 
 receiving from him a parting blessing, or hearing 
 the confession of his faith, strong in death. " I 
 could have resigned him to God without a 
 murmur," said one of his daughters, " if he had 
 only blessed me before he died." Mr Lane, 
 who had been throughout the Bishop's illness 
 an unspeakable support to all around him, ex- 
 horted them to submission to the good ways 
 of God, until they were able to say, " The 
 Lord's will be done ;" and it was then that God 
 heard their prayer, and gave them their desire. 
 
 Mr Lane knelt down and pronounced the 
 prayer for a person at the moment of departure. 
 Before he had completed it the Bishop began 
 to speak, at first indistinctly, but soon in a 
 strong and audible voice, — " Dr Abercrombie 
 says I am very ill, that I am dying. I am the 
 resurrection and the life, saith the Lord, he 
 that believeth on me, though he were dead, yet 
 
MEMOIR. 73 
 
 shall he live, and he that liveth and believeth 
 in me shall never die." He then said, *' O 
 Lord, may my family live in Christian comfort 
 and in Christian hope. I die in the faith of 
 Jesus Christ, and I am going to heaven." 
 Shortly afterwards he added : *' Charles, you 
 must read the service:" which his son-in-law 
 understood to intimate a desire that he should 
 officiate at his interment. Much more he said, 
 naming the different members of his family, but 
 so indistinctly that it was not easy to understand 
 his meaning. 
 
 Mrs Sandford then requested her son-in-law 
 to propose to him to receive the Lord's sup- 
 per. He was at that time in great pain, but 
 the moment it was mentioned he replied, " Man 
 shall not live by bread alone :" then ask- 
 ing for his keys, and selecting one, he directed 
 Mr Lane to a particular drawer in which he 
 would find a small service of sacramental plate, 
 given to him by a deceased friend. The first 
 words of the ordinance riveted his attention, and 
 he for some time followed the reader in an audi- 
 ble voice through that lowly and beautiful confes- 
 sion : *' Almighty and merciful God, Father of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ," &c. &c. When his son 
 approached him with the elements, he pressed 
 the bread within his lips, and drank of the cup 
 of blessing with holy fervour. 
 
 When they arose from their knees his family 
 approached and kissed him. He murmured 
 
74 M E M O I R. 
 
 much that was indistmctly heard, and then ex- 
 claimed, *' I shall leave earth and rise for Christ's 
 sake." Afterwards he turned to his eldest son 
 and said, *' you have been a blessing to me ; all 
 have been a blessing ; take my blessing." His 
 children knelt before him ; he spread forth his 
 hands, and laying them on the head of each, 
 invoked a blessing. His sons were hanging over 
 him, and he again placed his hands upon their 
 heads and pronounced with deep emotion : '* Son, 
 behold thy mother." He added, while he turned 
 on his wife a look of inexpressible tenderness, 
 " promise ;" and then, as if fatigued by his 
 exertions, said, *' now I am very weak." 
 
 When he again began to speak, it was to re- 
 iterate blessings on his absent children ; " tell 
 them," said he, " that the blessing of a dying 
 father is upon them, and upon their children ; I 
 forget none of them. May God Almighty bless 
 them all !" 
 
 His son-in-law having approached to change his 
 position, he caught his hand, and said, *' Charles, 
 bring up your children in the nurture and ad- 
 monition of the Lord, and they will come to 
 Heaven for Christ's sake : when I spoke just 
 now I was much hurried," apparently meaning 
 that he should otherwise have said more. A 
 short time afterwards he repeated, " I die in the 
 faith of Christ, and I pray that my grand-chil- 
 dren may be brought up in the same faith in 
 Christ! May you all live in faith and love !" 
 
MEMOIR. 75 
 
 From this time until the moment of his death, 
 lie was observed at intervals in prayer, lifting up 
 holy hands, though the only words audible to 
 those around him were, *' for Christ's sake." 
 Twice he raised his arm to its utmost extent, 
 and pointed with his finger to the Heavens. His 
 last words were a request that his family would 
 pray for him, and his son-in-law continued to 
 pronounce appropriate texts of scripture, until 
 he fell asleep. At eleven o'clock at night, with- 
 out a struggle, he resigned his breath. A slight 
 flutter, a gentle sigh, and his happy spirit had 
 returned to God. His wife and children ga- 
 thered round him, and as they looked on the 
 expression which the parting soul had left as the 
 impress of its bliss, they felt more than resigned, 
 and retired praising God. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 " The path of the righteous is as the shining light, that 
 shineth more and more until the perfect day.''* — Prov. 
 iv. 18. 
 
 If we would judge favourably of our kind, we 
 must generally be content to consider excellence 
 in its outline, and from a distance. But there 
 are some characters which invite minuter inspec- 
 tion, and which are appreciated in proportion to 
 the accuracy with which they are studied. — Such 
 a character was that before us. It had every 
 thing to gain from intimate acquaintance; for it 
 was in the retirement of his own home, and by 
 his own quiet hearth, that Bishop Sandford was 
 best loved, because best known. In general 
 society there was something constrained in his 
 manner, which was the effect of reserve ; but in 
 his own home he was the playful associate of 
 his youngest child. He thought himself wisely, 
 as well as happily employed, when he could, 
 promote innocent gaiety, or convey instruction 
 in the form of amusement; and many a winter 
 evening has he beguiled in thus acquainting his 
 children with the truths of history, or initiating 
 them into the secrets of science. His constant 
 aim was to encourage their confidence, and to 
 
CHARACTER. 77 
 
 induce them to regard him with intimacy, as 
 well as respect; and there was not, therefore, 
 one of their pursuits in which he did not dis- 
 cover interest. 
 
 In his intercourse with his sons there was 
 nothing, in the remotest degree, dictatorial ; for 
 his instructions were communicated rather in the 
 way of eliciting, than of delivering opinion ; and 
 he was glad if, at any time, he could prefer 
 their judgment to his own. Indeed, his very 
 anxiety that their principles should be sound 
 made him desirous, that these should be, as 
 much as possible, the inferences of their own 
 minds. And if there was, at any time, a diver- 
 sity of sentiment between them, it only afforded 
 him occasion for the display of his unequalled 
 humility and forbearance. In the society of his 
 daughters he was always happy and always de- 
 hghtful; and there never was a more beautiful 
 picture than that exhibited in his intercourse 
 with them. His manner towards women was 
 uniformly that of deference and courtesy, — 
 towards his daughters it united tenderness with 
 respect. The closeness of affinity, which is 
 sometimes considered a plea for indifference, was 
 with him only an argument for more exact and 
 delicate attention. 
 
 He used frequently to say, that the gospel was 
 the only true code of honour, and that the 
 Christian was the only real gentleman. His own 
 principles were loftier than were ever learnt in the 
 
78 CHARACTER. 
 
 school of chivalry, for they were founded not on 
 conventional rule, but on the law of his God, and 
 involved not a readiness to resent imputations, 
 but a religious avoidance of what might pro- 
 voke them. — His politeness also was that of the 
 good, as well as of the high-bred man; consisting 
 in a quiet and unaffected deference to the feel- 
 ings and opinions of others, and showing itself 
 not in verbal compliment, but in actual atten- 
 tions. It was the expression of benevolence, as 
 well as of refinement, and was displayed in all 
 those nameless amenities, which soothe and 
 brighten life, and are intelligible to men of every 
 degree. 
 
 He was remarkable for cheerfulness in society, 
 and his conversation was strewn over with anec- 
 dotes, in the use of which he was singularly 
 happy. In his latter years increasing deafness 
 narrowed the circle of his associates without de- 
 stroying his vivacity ; for even to the last, during 
 intervals of ease, he was full of chastened wit 
 and social kindliness. He had read much and 
 extensively, so that there were few subjects upon 
 which he was not qualified to speak, and his 
 memory was so ready as well as tenacious that 
 he could at any time avail himself of its stores. 
 
 To his habits of order and arrangement he 
 doubtless owed much of the facility with which 
 he thus recalled information, as well as much of 
 his correctness in writing and speaking. The 
 exactest method was observable in every thing 
 
CHARACTER. 79 
 
 about him, — he had been remarkable for it from 
 liis childhood, and he had found it to be an 
 element of independence, as well as of power. 
 He considered it indeed a religious duty, and if 
 it be so, it must be confessed, that there was at 
 least one religious duty to which he had a strong 
 bias by nature. In his personal appointments 
 he was as punctilious as in weightier concerns, — 
 judging rightly, that however intrinsically unim- 
 portant such things may be, they are not actually 
 so, as society is constituted, and that their neg- 
 lect is oftener the proof of an ill-regulated, than 
 of a superior mind. 
 
 Method is a valuable auxiliary in active life, 
 and Bishop Sandford had, at least, this qualifica- 
 tion for its duties ; but his humble episcopate 
 involved little business, and he was happy in a 
 partner, on whose energy he could repose all his 
 secular cares. He retired himself as much as he 
 conscientiously could do from such things, and 
 perhaps few men, whose duties have carried 
 them into the world, ever imbibed less of its 
 spirit. Yet with no taste for the minutiae of 
 business, he had the high and independent prin- 
 ciple, without which men of abstracted pursuits 
 are often betrayed into imprudence. And, 
 therefore, though his income was at no time 
 more than equal to his expenditure, and his 
 charity was uniform and extensive, he died as he 
 had always lived, without the incumbrance of 
 debt. 
 
80 CHARACTER. 
 
 Proportion was indeed the key-stone of his 
 character, the true secret of his moral and 
 rehgious excellence. It was this which gave 
 depth to his humility, and intensity to his devo- 
 tion, and which distinguished all his transactions 
 with men. It was the rule of his eleemosynary 
 gifts. Charity, like every other grace, was with 
 him not an exhibition, but a principle ; — he con- 
 scientiously devoted to it a stated portion of his 
 income, and from this deposit no deduction was 
 ever made for other than charitable purposes. — 
 Charity has, however, its influence in the applica- 
 tion as well as in the devotion of a sum : he who 
 should think, that the obligations of charity were 
 answered by the mere sacrifice of money, to 
 however large an amount, would greatly err in 
 his estimate of this lovely grace. Charity is not 
 a sum, but a sentiment ; and it is the manner, 
 no less than the motive, that distinguishes its 
 value. We may be really as profligate in elee- 
 mosynary expenditure as in the abuse of any 
 other talent. But the real Christian gives as a 
 steward who is responsible for the mode, as well 
 as the amount of his gratuity. He has not done 
 his office till he has investigated cases, and ad- 
 justed claims, and until he is in some degree 
 convinced that he is about to give for the relief 
 of indigence, and not for the encouragement of 
 imposture. — Much of Bishop Sandford's charity 
 was bestowed in secret ; and the objects on 
 whom it was conferred were those towards whom 
 
CHARACTER. 81 
 
 liis delicacy enhanced the obHgation. The only 
 anonymous communications he ever addressed 
 were letters of charity, and he felt himself justi- 
 fied in adopting a disguise which saved the 
 feelings of those whom he relieved. 
 
 But of all his graces humility was perhaps the 
 most remarkable. In the present day, if there 
 is much parade of humility, there is, alas ! but 
 little of its fruit. Its language is often nothing 
 but the cymbal of conceit, and we may look in 
 vain among its exclusive asserters, for either 
 modesty in sentiment, or diffidence of demeanour. 
 Even in confession, there may be an appearance 
 of display. But deep contrition is solitary and 
 sacred. It is sentiment rather than expression, — 
 a sense, not merely an acknowledgment. In his 
 closet Bishop Sandford bowed his head, and the 
 confession of the publican — the miserere of 
 David — he there appropriated peculiarly to him- 
 self. Of such feelings he spoke, however, 
 seldom, and with reserve, — for on them his taste, 
 as well as piety, forbade him to expatiate. His 
 humility was indeed the fruit of a meek and 
 contrite spirit : it was felt by others, not embla- 
 zoned by himself. It was apparent in de- 
 meanour rather than profession. He thought 
 little of his own attainments, even in reference 
 to those of other men. 
 
 In a day when novelties are as confidently, as 
 rashly propounded, and ignorance scruples not 
 to hazard its wildest conjectures, the forbearance 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
82 CHARACTER. 
 
 of such a man was most edifying and remarkable. 
 Deeply versed in theology himself, and accurate 
 in research, yet was he ever glad to hear the 
 sentiments of others. Few w^ere there from 
 whom he did not desire to learn, and many, his 
 inferiors in spiritual knowledge, received from 
 him a willing and patient attention. How often 
 has he been seen, in social intercourse, listening 
 where he was expected to teach, — asking infor- 
 mation from those who would gladly have hung 
 upon his lips, and affording an edifying instance 
 of unaffected humility as well as eagerness for 
 spiritual good. 
 
 An unassuming character is not, however, 
 always appreciated, and the nicer shades of sen- 
 timent are often misunderstood. — The Bishop 
 was sensitive as well as humble. Attaching little 
 value to his own ministrations, he w^as sometimes 
 suspicious of the opinion of others ; and, where 
 he doubted his acceptance, was ever fearful of 
 intrusion. Yet his estimate of himself was far 
 different from that which was formed of him by 
 others ; and if ever he withdre^j^, it was to the 
 disappointment of those whom he might have 
 thought indifferent to his attention. 
 
 Humility is the basis of all Christian hope, and 
 the universal distinction of the children of God. 
 Yet when it proceeds rather from tenderness of 
 conscience, than from the recollection of a course 
 of sin, it is at least a surer criterion of spiritual 
 influence. The mind of Bishop Sandford was 
 
C H A R A C T E R. 83 
 
 as pure as it was humble, — he had remembered 
 his Creator in the days of his youth, and the fear 
 of God had kept him from presumptuous sin. 
 Yet the stain was upon his heart. He felt and 
 acknowledged it, and the words of the Psalmist 
 were his daily confession, "Against thee, thee 
 only, have I sinned." 
 
 Prayer is the natural expression of want to 
 Him who is able to relieve it, and its fervency is 
 proportioned to the sense of need. The Bishop 
 knew the value of prayer. As a confession of 
 sin, an acknowledgment of blessing, an applica- 
 tion for pardon and strength, a medium of 
 communion with God, prayer was peculiarly 
 grateful to his humble and pious spirit. He 
 lived in prayer. How frequent were his ad- 
 dresses is known only to him who reads the 
 heart. " Do you know what it is," he once said 
 to a beloved child, " to be unable to leave off 
 praying ? — oh ! I feel sometimes as if I could 
 pray for ever." His voice was repeatedly heard 
 breathing forth petitions, and its solemnity and 
 sweetness will never be forgotten. A few months 
 before his death, when on a visit to one of his 
 children, the low murmur of prayer was heard 
 proceeding from his chamber during the whole 
 of a sleepless night. Such was his habit in the 
 acutest suffering. Pain was familiar to him, — 
 prayer was its anodyne. His sighs were eja- 
 culations, not complaints. " The body only 
 suffered," but the soul was refined. — Now^ is he 
 
 F 2 
 
84 CHARACTER. 
 
 before the throne of God, and prayer is lost in 
 praise. 
 
 A recognition of God in the ordinary events 
 of hfe is a more certain evidence of a devotional 
 frame, than any observance of stated offices. 
 We need only refer to the diary of Bishop 
 Sandford to prove the spiritual tone of his mind. 
 God was in all his thoughts. An hour's ease, — 
 the kindness of a friend, — the affection of his 
 children, — a prosperous voyage, — a happy union, 
 were all immediately ascribed to the bounty of 
 heaven. The providence of God was his stay ; 
 his mercy, the theme of his sweetest meditation ; 
 his praise was ever on his lips. 
 
 In the hymns of Zion, and in their own in- 
 spired tongue, he took peculiar pleasure. They 
 were the subject of his criticism, and the theme 
 of his devotional addresses. It was his habit 
 to repeat them in his solitary hours : thus did 
 he beguile the watches of the night, and find 
 alleviation for sufferings which human skill could 
 not reach. 
 
 Not that his religion was solitary. He loved 
 to encourage in his fainily the habits which had 
 proved so delightful to himself. With this view, 
 he prepared with beautiful care and accuracy 
 courses of meditations on passages selected for 
 each day in the year, and appended explanatory 
 or devotional notices to bibles interleaved for 
 this purpose : sweet evidences these of his 
 affection, and presents the most valuable to 
 
CHAllACTER. 85 
 
 those on whom they were bestowed. He was 
 indeed ever ready to meet the I'ehgious inqiurer, 
 and to second the first intimations of interest 
 on spiritual subjects. Nothing pleased him so 
 much as to be applied to for instruction. His 
 conversation had generally a religious bias ; and 
 he turned to scriptural inquiry as to the theme 
 most familiar to him, and in which he chiefly 
 delighted. 
 
 Yet was his religion quiet and sincere, without 
 affectation or display. It had lived through an 
 age when piety was in disrepute, and it had 
 nothing in it of the verbiage which now so often 
 accompanies profession. Religion was with him 
 a sacred thing, and a light handling of the 
 subject wounded his piety as well as his taste. 
 In the fervour of devotion he never forgot the 
 reverence due to God ; — his religion was as 
 chaste as it was humble. His prayers were the 
 aspirations of a soul longing for the enjoyment 
 of infinite perfection ; finding in God alone suf- 
 ficiency, and in communion with him the nearest 
 approach to the happiness of a purer state. 
 And when he drew near that heavenly country, 
 and stood upon the borders of his rest, his eye 
 glanced on the beatific vision, — his spirit glowed 
 with intenser rapture, and he desired to depart 
 and be with Christ. 
 
 He applied to God in every need, and he ac- 
 knowledged his bounty in every enjoyment. 
 Many indeed were his blessings, and for these 
 
Si) 
 
 CHARACTER. 
 
 he was unceasingly thankful ; — yet the trials with 
 which it pleased God to exercise his faith were 
 received as necessary medicine, and he bowed in 
 submission to his will. — One beloved child, 
 whom piety and sweetness had peculiarly en- 
 deared, passed from him, at a time when parental 
 tenderness was enhanced by the pleasure he 
 felt in her society, and when her character had 
 assumed the tone which was worthy of all his 
 interest and regard. How fondly he loved her 
 is remembered by those who can recall the hap- 
 piness he enjoyed in her society, — the attention 
 he ever paid her, — the long and silent grief with 
 which he mourned her loss. He seldom breathed 
 her name, and his sorrow was the more touching 
 as it sought not the relief of expression. The 
 conduct of pious persons visited with heavy 
 affliction does not always harmonize with their 
 principles : their composure is that of the 
 Quietist, not of the Christian ; they dwell con- 
 tinually on the past, and though they are not 
 impatient, they are disqualified for the discharge 
 of ordinary duties. But Bishop Sandford never 
 indulged in sadness. He was strengthened, not 
 enervated, by affliction. He exemplified himself 
 what he so often beautifully enforced ; and 
 though the impression of sorrow was fresh upon 
 his heart, and the form of the departed lingered 
 in his tenderest recollections, he neither yielded 
 to depression, nor suffered regret for the blessing 
 he had lost to weaken his sense of remaining 
 
 o 
 
CHARACTER. 87 
 
 mercies. He believed that they should meet 
 again, — he anticipated the union which is now 
 accomplished ; and was happy that one of those 
 he loved best on earth was safe in the haven 
 of her rest. 
 
 And when death again visited his house, and 
 three of its fairest blossoms were withered before 
 their time, it was his to soothe the mourning 
 parents, and to point them to the hope which 
 had been his own support in a similar and sadder 
 bereavement. He committed his children's 
 children to the tomb in sure and certain hope ; 
 and soon did his body sleep with them, and with 
 theirs was his spirit united, and they met in that 
 abode where the weary are at rest. 
 
 By his own sufferings his sensibility for others 
 was increased. His letters to persons in af- 
 fliction are distinguished by that delicate and 
 pious sympathy which is so essential in an ap- 
 proach to the sanctuary of grief. He was indeed 
 disciplined by pain. Though blessed in domestic 
 relations beyond many, still was he tried in the 
 furnace, and the last thirty years of his pilgrimage 
 on earth were a course of protracted endurance ; 
 yet an uncomplaining submission evinced his 
 acquiescence in the divine will. That " in his 
 hours of pain and bodily distress he might be 
 preserved from fretfulness and impatience" was 
 his continual prayer ; and as he felt his daily 
 necessity, so was he strengthened for his daily trial. 
 
 To be affectionate and to be kind, when mind 
 
88 CHARACTER. 
 
 and body are at ease, are comparatively easy 
 graces ; to endure for a season, when recovery is 
 expected, is a slight trial of patience. But for 
 him there was little hope of relief; — his figure 
 bent with pain. His premature infirmity bespoke 
 his bodily distress ; the placid expression of his 
 countenance, the composure of his mind. Each 
 succeeding attack loosened the cords of his 
 earthly tabernacle ; yet the struggle was long. 
 A slight amendment was welcomed with grati- 
 tude, and cheerfulness accompanied temporary 
 relief. None knew the extremity of his pain ; 
 he wished none to witness it. He suffered with- 
 out complaint as long as forbearance was possible, 
 and in his agony retired. 
 
 At length his hour came. Human infirmity 
 could endure no more. Yet even at the last he 
 thought of others more than of himself; — he was 
 grateful for every kindness ; he suppressed every 
 murmur ; and the assurance of faith which filled 
 with rapture his departing soul, and burst from 
 his dying lips, was the answer to many a fervent 
 prayer, — " Suffer me not, O Lord, at my last 
 hour, for any pains of death to fall from thee." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " And the servant of the Lord must not strive ; but be 
 gentle unto all men, apt to teach, patient." — 2 Tim. 
 ii. 24. 
 
 With Bishop Sandford, as is seen in the notice 
 of his Hfe, the ministry was the profession of 
 choice. His sense of its responsibility was as 
 deep as his attachment to its duties. He had 
 given at his ordination no equivocal proof of his 
 feeUngs, and his subsequent course corroborated 
 the promise of his youth. Always remarkable 
 for assiduity, — when admitted to the church he 
 devoted to its service the whole energy of his 
 mind ; and though bodily suffering bent his 
 frame, and imparted prematurely to it the feeble- 
 ness of age, it was never admitted by him at any 
 time as a plea for neglect of duty. Till the last 
 he was engaged in the discharge of functions 
 for which health is generally considered indis- 
 pensable. When he could no longer endure the 
 fatigue of standing, a support was provided for 
 him in the pulpit ; and latterly, when unable to 
 meet the younger members of his flock in public, 
 he assembled them for instruction in his own 
 house. 
 
90 CHARACTER. 
 
 By such zealous exertions did he evince his 
 anxiety for the welfare of his people, — and he 
 has left his memorial in their hearts. That his 
 earnestness was the effect of conviction none 
 could doubt ; his manner conveyed the impres- 
 sion of truth J and few who have witnessed his 
 ministrations will ever forget their unaffected 
 piety, or the solemnity with which they were dis- 
 charged. In his delivery there was nothing of 
 the artifice which destroys devotion ; for though 
 his tone and manner were marked by taste as 
 well as feeling, they were perfectly natural. He 
 spoke in prayer as one who felt that he was ad- 
 dressing God, — that his eye was on him, and his 
 ear heard him, — and that sinful and necessitous 
 himself, he was leading the devotions of others, 
 who partook with him in the same infirmities. 
 His congregation could not complain that there 
 was tedium or coldness in a form of worship ; 
 for as he found in our incomparable liturgy the 
 sentiments that filled his own heart, so by his 
 beautiful elocution he expounded the spirit in 
 which it was conceived. 
 
 He always considered the reading the scrip- 
 tures to constitute a most important part of 
 public worship ; he felt that it was well on such 
 occasions, that besides preferring our own ad- 
 dresses to God, we should listen to his merciful 
 communications to ourselves, — not merely in the 
 expositions of imperfect and fallible men, but in 
 his own word of inspired truth. In reading these 
 
CHARACTER. 91 
 
 scriptures he himself greatly excelled. Many 
 an obscure passage did he elucidate by the em- 
 phasis and inflection of his voice, while to others 
 he imparted in delivery a force and interest unfelt 
 before. He might in this way be considered 
 to comment as he read, and it has been frequently 
 observed, that, enounced by him, the scrip- 
 ture hardly needed further exposition. But it 
 was as a preacher that he was most deservedly 
 esteemed, and that his natural and acquired ac- 
 complishments were most eminently useful. The 
 quiet elegance which distinguished him in every 
 thing peculiarly characterized his appearance in 
 the pulpit ; and there was a moral tone in his 
 presence, as well as in his voice, which powerfully 
 affected those who heard him. None could dis- 
 trust his sincerity, and therefore none questioned 
 the authority, with which he spoke ; and few 
 disputed principles, of which it was felt that he 
 had himself proved the truth before he pro- 
 pounded them to others. He spoke of the 
 Christian as engaged in a spiritual conflict, — and 
 his hearers knew that such was his own daily 
 exercise, — as way-faring in a strange land, and 
 they knew that he looked for his own home and 
 rest above. They knew that all his illustrations 
 of scripture were drawn from his own experience, 
 — that he enforced no sacrifice which he was 
 not himself disposed to make, and suggested no 
 motive of which he had not himself experienced 
 the power. That God was refining him in the 
 
92 CHARACTER. 
 
 furnace, none who looked upon his feeble form 
 could doubt ; but they believed it was, that he 
 might be a vessel for honour, and that by his 
 own severe sufferings he might be better qualified 
 to speak in season to those who were similarly 
 tried. 
 
 It was natural that his tone should be grave ; 
 yet his sentiments never partook of severity ; — 
 his own horizon was indeed sometimes overcast, 
 but none ever learned from him to associate 
 gloom with religion ; and though the gospel was 
 to himself chiefly a solace in pain and depression, 
 it was always exhibited to others not only as an 
 asylum, but as a stay and joy under every cir- 
 cumstance. 
 
 He preached Christ ; and it was as the substi- 
 stute and the sacrifice, the hope and the pattern 
 of men ; as the Saviour in whose merits alone he 
 placed his own reliance, and on whom alone he 
 wished to fix the faith of others. And as he drew 
 with boldness and precision the great outline of 
 the gospel, so did he fill up with accuracy each 
 particular feature ; he descended to the minuter 
 points of practical detail, and, with the doctrine, 
 exhibited the Christian character. He adapted 
 his discourses to the congregation he addressed. 
 It was not so much his office to expose the 
 grosser vices ; it was the alienation of the heart 
 which he laboured to correct,' a spiritual as well 
 as virtuous life which he inculcated, — the ti"uth, 
 and love, and holiness of the gospel, in opposition 
 
CHARACTER. 9^ 
 
 to the insincerity, selfishness, and vanity of 
 the world. He felt that he addressed an intel- 
 lectual people ; and though he ever merged the 
 scholar and the theologian in the minister of 
 Christ, he adopted a style and tone which indi- 
 cated his respect for, as well as his interest in his 
 congregation. His discourses bore the evidence 
 of previous research ; and as he ever deprecated 
 a hasty preparation for the pulpit, so did his own 
 habits afford an edifying example of care in the 
 discharge of this sacred duty. Upon it he concen- 
 trated his talents and acquirements ; and whilst 
 he abstained from a display of scholastic erudi- 
 tion, and concealed the steps of his own laborious 
 progress, he imparted the results to his hearers, 
 and led them at once to conclusions which had 
 cost him considerable toil. And be it ever 
 remembered, that in the minutiae of biblical 
 research he had always the great end in view, — 
 that it was to discover some spiritual allusion or 
 bring into relief some important doctrine, that he 
 examined the etymologies of oriental tongues, and 
 compared the opinions of learned commentators. 
 The elucidation of scripture was the object to 
 which all his own reading was subservient, and 
 he availed himself of every opportunity of con- 
 versing or corresponding about it with others. 
 Its study he knew to be the best preparation for 
 public duties, and he found in it the solace and 
 delight of his leisure hours. The holy book lay 
 always on the table before him, and, in his latter 
 
94< CHARACTER. 
 
 years, it was seldom that any one entered his 
 apartment without their attention being drawn 
 to its pages. He loved to meditate upon the 
 word of God ; — no passage was to him unin- 
 teresting, — no difficulty did he leave without 
 investigation. Yet was not his the boldness that 
 measures divine mysteries by human reason, or 
 propounds its own capricious dogmas on the 
 authority of a dubious text. Knowing that no 
 scripture is of private interpretation, he con- 
 sidered each passage in relation to the whole, 
 comparing spiritual things with spiritual. All 
 his stores of knowledge he brought to bear upon 
 the sacred text ; and while he looked to the 
 Divine Spirit to illuminate its truths, and to enable 
 him to guide others to their import, he thought 
 with Bishop Horsley, that learning was the hand- 
 maid of inspiration, and a talent to be improved 
 to the glory of God. He considered his time 
 well spent in the acquisition of knowledge, which, 
 while it expands the mind, and lifts it up above 
 the littleness of ordinary life, may be consecrated 
 by the Christian to the highest and noblest ends. 
 In history he traced the providence of God,— in 
 science, his goodness, — and his discourses from 
 the pulpit, as well as his social conversation, 
 abundantly proved how important is the judi- 
 cious application of human learning to illustrate 
 divine truth. 
 
 Imagination, undisciplined by study, will be 
 not only eccentric, but jejune. It needs both 
 
C H A R A C T E R. 95 
 
 the ballast and the nutriment of learning. And 
 surely, in the present day especially, the theolo- 
 gian should be furnished with knowledge, sacred 
 and profane, that he may be able to detect 
 heresy in its newest and most imposing dress, 
 and by sound doctrine to confirm the feeble- 
 minded, and convince gainsayers. Bishop Sand- 
 ford never yielded to popular delusions ; yet was 
 he always ready to examine the arguments of 
 others, and was as mild in the delivery of his 
 opinion as he was correct in judgment. In all 
 public addresses he carefully abstained from 
 controversy. He thought it better, from the 
 pulpit, plainly and authoritatively to declare 
 the truth, and not perplex his hearers, or run 
 the risk of misconception by stating erroneous 
 arguments, even with a view to their refutation. 
 
 But it was the sincerity that breathed in every 
 line, that imparted to his eloquence its peculiar 
 charm, — that gave interest even to critical dis- 
 cussion, and energy to a refined and polished 
 manner, and that convinced his congregation 
 that, whatever were the abilities of the preacher, 
 their edification was his chief concern. What 
 he delivered from the pulpit he had learned from 
 God, and his discourses were thus at once a 
 lesson to his hearers, and a test of his own 
 spiritual progress ; — and as he drew nearer his 
 end, and waxed riper in knowledge as well as in 
 moral meetness for his change, men felt that he 
 had brighter views, and richer consolations, and 
 
9G CHARACTER. 
 
 more assured and elevating hopes of coming bliss. 
 Long and humbly had he waited; — at last the 
 answer to many a prayer was given, — faith had 
 its perfect fruit ; and his dying experience 
 realized the last words that ever reached his ears, 
 "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in 
 peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have 
 seen thy salvation." 
 
 Good taste is not the most striking feature of 
 the present day, and a quiet and unassuming 
 tone accords not with the prevailing appetite; 
 yet few men have enjoyed a more extensive and 
 equal popularity than he did. If he never 
 coveted the ephemeral eclat, which it is so easy 
 to produce, by some extravagance of manner 
 or novelty of opinion, yet was he eminently happy 
 in the affection of many, who were as steady as 
 sincere in their attachment. And even those 
 who forsook the guide of their youth, and sought 
 elsewhere instruction, better suited to their 
 character or state, will confess that he laid well 
 the foundation upon which others have built, 
 and that their first religious impression was the 
 fruit of his labours. 
 
 Bishop Sandford's style was in perfect keep- 
 ing with the chaste and unaffected tone of his 
 character and mind. His theology he drew from 
 the scriptures ; but from the Augustan age of the 
 English church he had caught the diction, as well 
 as the spirit, in which its masters wrote. In the 
 
CHARACTER. gj 
 
 mould of tliese great men his own mind was cast ; 
 in their writings he found the depth and sub- 
 stance which satisfied him as a student, and a tone 
 of lowly and unobtrusive piety which harmonized 
 with his own religious feelings. They were the 
 men with whom he was formed to associate, for 
 he had little sympathy with the day in which he 
 lived ; and his sentiments, as well as his manners, 
 belonged to a previous century. 
 
 His zeal was not satisfied with the discharge 
 
 o 
 
 of the ordinary duties of his calling : it was not 
 only on the Sabbath that he met his congregation 
 in public. The services which, through the in- 
 difference or the intelligence of the present day, 
 have fallen into desuetude, were observed by him 
 with filial piety ; — and on every occasion, which 
 the wisdom of former days has consecrated, was 
 he to be found, delighting to improve the oppor- 
 tunity to the glory of God. He loved the courts 
 of the outer sanctuary, and delighted to find, at 
 any time, within its walls a brief asylum from 
 the w^orld ; — while from the lives of the holy 
 men, whose faith and virtue the church com- 
 memorates, he drew many an edifying and 
 beautiful ensample, for the imitation of his flock. 
 In the passion week he had daily opportu- 
 nities of addressing them, and the discourses 
 then delivered are offered to the world, in the 
 hope that they may promote in others the sen- 
 timents with which he himself regarded this holy 
 season. 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
98 CHARACTER. 
 
 There is always danger of mistaking our mo- 
 tives for extraordinary ministrations in the 
 pulpit, — but there is no such risk in those other 
 humble and unobtrusive duties, to which Bishop 
 Sandford patiently devoted himself. Catecheti- 
 cal instruction is out of vogue, — it was the 
 peculiar system of a less enlightened age, which 
 the theological precociousness of the present day 
 does not require : but Bishop Sandford had 
 been educated in a primitive school, and the 
 catechism was his manual. He loved to be 
 surrounded by the lambs of his flock, to lead 
 them early in the green pastures, and beside the 
 still waters, and to imprint upon theu* plastic 
 minds the lessons which they would hereafter 
 remember amid the temptations of life. 
 
 He judged wisely, that even in maturer years 
 many a lesson might be learned in listening to 
 such instructions, and that the elder members of 
 his flock might be edified as well as entertained 
 by it. And doubtless they thought so too, for 
 many lingered round the youthful circle, that 
 hung upon his lips j and those of them who read 
 this record, will remember the interest with 
 which they listened. It was a beautiful picture, 
 which must have moved and mellowed many a 
 heart, and to which even those who did not feel 
 it at the time have afterwards reverted with 
 softening emotions. The bright circle that 
 thronged round that venerable man melted away; 
 some may be at this time profiting by the lessons 
 
CHARACTER. ^9 
 
 he taught them, — some instructing others in 
 what they learnt from him, — some entered 
 before him on their rest. Happiest these ! — 
 they have now recovered the friend and guide of 
 their youth, — are singing with him the songs 
 which he taught them to Hsp while on earth, 
 and God has wiped away all tears from their 
 eyes. 
 
 To some it may appear a dull task to catechize 
 the young : Bishop Sandford did not feel it to be 
 so. He entered with as much energy upon this 
 as upon any other duty, and with perhaps more 
 pleasure ; — he had always great enjoyment in 
 the society of the young ; and they were, in 
 general, greatly attached to him. The diffidence 
 which made him reserved among men did not 
 impede him in his intercourse with those, to 
 whom he saw his conversation was delightful. 
 He was thus admirably qualified for the duties 
 of a catechist ; and the kindness and simplicity 
 of his instructions made a sensible impression. 
 
 Every Sunday after morning service, one of 
 two classes attended him at the communion rails, 
 and received instructions corresponding with 
 their respective ages. With the junior class, he 
 employed the time in examination and explana- 
 tory remarks upon the catechism ; to the senior 
 class, he delivered short addi'esses, and besides 
 interrogating them on religious subjects, pre- 
 scribed written exercises, which he carefully 
 examined at home. Thus he was enabled to 
 
 G 2 
 
100 CHARACTER. 
 
 form the taste and style as well as to mould the 
 mmd of his pupils ; and some of the exercises, 
 which grateful piety has preserved, will show the 
 patient attention which he paid to their spiritual 
 improvement. 
 
 It was to be expected that the same affec- 
 tionate concern, which prompted these exertions, 
 would prolong their continuance. Bishop Sand- 
 ford's catechetical course embraced a period of 
 several years, and conducted the catechumens 
 through a graduated system of instruction, until 
 they publicly renewed their baptismal engage- 
 ment, and received from his hands the rite of 
 confirmation. 
 
 Before, however, they approached that ordin- 
 ance, he was in the yearly habit of delivering 
 from the pulpit a course of preparatory lectures, 
 in which he recapitulated previous instructions ; 
 and lifting, as it were, the veil, and disclosing 
 to them the dangers of the world upon which 
 they were entering, he dismissed them with his 
 blessing, to make proof of the principles which 
 had been so faithfully instilled. 
 
 Public addresses paved the way for more 
 familiar intercourse in private; and those who 
 had been accustomed to Bisliop Sandford's ex- 
 hortations as a catechist, were not slow to seek 
 his counsel in retirement. On quitting for the 
 first time the paternal roof, making choice of a 
 profession, or on any of those occasions on 
 which youth is aided by experience, it was na- 
 
CHARACTER. 101 
 
 tural that they should repair to one who had so 
 long displayed his interest in their welfare. 
 When such instances occurred, none could be 
 more anxious to receive than he was to impart 
 his blessing ; and it was easy to discover in the 
 countenances of those who left him, that his 
 words had been as tender as they were solemn, 
 and that they had not been listened to without 
 emotion. 
 
 It must have been truly delightful to Bishop 
 Sandford to trace the spiritual progress of these 
 dear children, to many of whom he had adminis- 
 tered the initiatory rite of religion, — to watch 
 their minds unfolding under the influence of 
 truth, — and after laying his paternal hands upon 
 their heads, to place before them the consecrated 
 elements, of which he had laboured to render 
 them worthy recipients ; — and when, as would 
 occasionally happen, he was called on to perform 
 over some of them even the last sad service, and 
 ne saw their bodies descend into the tomb, would 
 Jie not feel a melancholy satisfaction in believing 
 that he had discharged to them his duty, and 
 that they were not unprepared for their great 
 change ! 
 
 Seldom indeed has any life presented a more 
 interesting picture of pastoral relations than his 
 did; — from the cradle of their infants to their 
 own dying bed, — on every occasion which ad- 
 mitted of spiritual improvement, the humblest of 
 his congregation might look for his sympathy 
 
10!2 CHARACTER. 
 
 and aid. He was a diffident and sensitive man, 
 who needed encouragement, and shrank from 
 even the appearance of obtrusiveness ; but a 
 word or look would at any time secure his at- 
 tendance. Excessive delicacy may indeed, in 
 many cases, injure ministerial usefulness, but in 
 the circumstances of Bishop Sandford's charge, 
 which was composed, for the most part, of 
 refined and affluent persons, it was most essen- 
 tial. — There is no duty more important and in- 
 dispensable than that of pastoral visitation ; but 
 there is, at the same time, none which requires 
 to be conducted with more delicacy and discre- 
 tion, or which demands so much elevation with 
 so much tenderness, so much self-suspicion with 
 so much respect for others. If, in pastoral in- 
 tercourse, there is ever danger lest the minister 
 should merge in the acquaintance, and his visits 
 be regarded merely as complimentary attentions, 
 there is also danger, lest religion should be so 
 exclusively the ground of his connexion, that 
 it should be regarded only as a professional com- 
 modity, and his conversation be minuted like 
 his sermons ; or lest, by abrupt and unnatural 
 introduction of things serious, he should startle 
 and wound where it is his object to conciliate. 
 We may indeed regret that offence is so easily 
 taken, but in a world where high degrees of 
 spirituality are not often to be found, it is most 
 essential that taste should be associated with 
 piety in the minister of Christ. 
 
CHARACTER. 103 
 
 And it was to this union that Bishop Sandford 
 owed much of his acceptance. His presence 
 would have been, at any time, sufficient to give 
 a tone to the circle in which he moved ; but if 
 he ever sought edification in society, and watched 
 to give the conversation a religious turn, it was 
 in a way so mild and unobtrusive that none 
 could detect the moment of his doing so. An 
 observation on an author, an allusion to a pic- 
 ture, the mention of a friend, a melody, or a 
 flower, any thing that furnished a natural tran- 
 sition, was made by him a vehicle of devotional 
 sentiment. 
 
 He indeed neglected nothing which could 
 conciliate for his message a kindly or attentive 
 audience. Offence, he had observed, was more 
 generally taken at the manner in which senti- 
 ments were expressed, than at their purport ; 
 and he therefore felt, that the gentlest mien and 
 the chastest phraseology became him as a minister 
 of peace. 
 
 Delicacy may be sometimes the result of pride, 
 which is punctilious only because it is sensitive ; 
 but in Bishop Sandford it had its source in hu- 
 mility. The clerical profession is a passport, 
 but it should never be used as a license. It 
 places the minister in the discharge of his duty 
 on a level with the noblest ; but he should never 
 use it as a pretext for wounding the feelings or 
 disregarding the rules of society. Such solecisms 
 
104 CHARACTER. 
 
 argue an ill-regulated mind ; for religion ought 
 to have the same influence as chivalry in refining 
 the character ; and it is surely a breach of 
 morals, as well as of politeness, to forget in the 
 exercise of the gravest duty the deference due 
 to rank or station. Religion should teach re- 
 spect even where taste and education have not 
 done so. — No one ever knew Bishop Sandford 
 take a liberty, — for the courtesy of others, due 
 as it was to his various claims to deference, never 
 rendered him familiar, — and, therefore, the flow 
 of sentiment was never checked by the convic- 
 tion that reserve was essential to security. It 
 was partly on this account that his society was 
 so much courted by persons of distinction, — and 
 that the highest rank never commanded greater 
 or more general respect, than was always paid 
 to his ungilded and unassuming mitre. 
 
 It was observed of the admirable Nelson, that 
 he cultivated whatever might convey to others 
 an amiable impression of religion, — and in this 
 Bishop Sandford resembled him : he loved to 
 see religion dressed in smiles, and felt it to be 
 his duty to encourage cheerfulness, because he 
 thought, in this way, to promote peace and 
 virtue ; and would not discourage youth and 
 gaiety by an appearance of moroseness. He 
 strove, therefore, as a pastor, to be agreeable as 
 well as instructive ; and men were pleased to 
 see that his graver sentiments did not render him 
 
CHARACTER. 105 
 
 repulsive, or disqualify him for social enjoyment. 
 Yet he never countenanced frivolity ; and, in 
 his most sportive moods, it was evident that his 
 pleasantry was as innocent as it was graceful, 
 and was the relaxation of a religious mind. 
 
 Bishop Sandford, however, always wished his 
 visits to be regarded as pastoral. His habits 
 were studious, and therefore sedentary ; and if 
 reserve had not disinclined him from promis- 
 cuous society, infirmity would have disqualified 
 him. It was, therefore, generally from a sense 
 of duty that he left his own room ; and when he 
 did so, it was to visit those by whom his pastoral 
 assistance was required. 
 
 To the afflicted he was ever welcome, for 
 there was something soothing in the very stillness 
 of his address, and this inaudible sympathy pre- 
 pared the heart for consolation. Delicacy taught 
 him to respect the sacredness of grief, and to 
 study the time as well as the topics of con- 
 dolence ; so that sorrow^ was allowed to have its 
 burst before he addressed the mourner on the 
 duty of submission, or attempted to administer 
 religious comfort. He understood the bewilder- 
 ing effects of deep affliction, and he knew that 
 nature must have way before faith and resignation 
 could be realized. When, however, he ap- 
 proached the house of mourning, none knew 
 better how to improve the season of sorrow, or 
 how to administer the balm provided in the 
 gospel. His manner, at once tender and re- 
 
106 CHARACTER. 
 
 spectful, bespoke his own sympathy ; but his 
 exhortation carried the afflicted far above the 
 scene of their bereavement and the sympathy 
 of men, to the presence of Him, whom he de- 
 hghted to describe as afflicting not wilUngly, 
 and as heahng where he has smitten. 
 
 It was natural that he should sometimes be 
 applied to, to break to the bereaved the tidings 
 of their loss 5 for affection gladly availed itself 
 of one on whose judgment as well as piety it 
 could so implicitly rely. On such occasions he 
 was remarkable for the considerate manner in 
 which he timed his disclosure, as well as for the 
 terms in which it was conveyed ; — and there 
 are those wlio wuU remember with gratitude 
 how seasonably it followed some sacred service, 
 by which the soul had immediately before been 
 strengthened and prepared. 
 
 In visiting the sick he must have felt his own 
 peculiai' fitness for this affecting duty ; and could 
 have experienced nothing of the restraint with 
 which those in health must inculcate submission, 
 or administer comfort to the invalid. Long; and 
 painfully exercised himself, he knew both the 
 suffering and the consolations of a sick room, 
 and those, who might have shrunk from a less 
 gentle hand, felt that he could sympathize as well 
 as prescribe, and were anxious to learn from him 
 the secret of his own resignation. 
 
 To know indeed the tenderness of his heart, 
 or his excellence as a minister, we must have 
 
CHARACTER. 107 
 
 seen him in contact with affliction, — in the honse 
 of mourning, or by the bed of sickness. There 
 it was that his people learnt the better to appre- 
 ciate his public ministrations, that they saw how 
 directly his addresses came from the heart, and 
 how truly Ms was the pure and undefiled religion 
 which he taught. Energy in the pulpit is not 
 always a sure test of Christian attainment, for 
 it may be the expression of vanity or of enthu- 
 siasm, as well as of a purer sentiment. But 
 the diligence of Bishop Sandford, as it was 
 chiefly displayed in those duties which escape 
 public observation, might be safely admitted as 
 a proof of his sincerity. He might surely have 
 found an easier path to popularity than cate- 
 chetical instruction or pastoral visitation. 
 
 To complete this sketch of his clerical cha- 
 racter, it remains only further to notice his 
 inviolable secrecy. No man was ever less 
 disposed to be inquisitive, and no man ever less 
 encouraged inconsiderate communicativeness. 
 Yet as he could not but be sometimes the de- 
 positary of confidential disclosures, his value as 
 a religious adviser was incalculably enhanced 
 by his Christian reserve. The spiritual state 
 of others was never with him a subject of dis- 
 cussion, far less was it in his nature to discourse 
 on what he could have learnt only in his pastoral 
 capacity. From this he would have been kept 
 at any time by a sense of decency as well as by 
 a sentiment of honour. And it was on this 
 
108 CHARACTER. 
 
 account that thougli his delicacy ever shrank 
 from disclosures, his known fidelity invited 
 them ; and that as no man was ever more wor- 
 thy of confidence, none was ever more generally 
 trusted. 
 
DIARY. 
 
There is no office iiivolviug more difficulty than that which 
 devolves on the editor of a Diary. It is because it requires 
 candour as well as delicacy that it is hardly possible in its 
 discharge to afford universal satisfaction — If the general reader 
 sometimes expects too familial' a development, the personal 
 friend is not unfrequently unnecessarily fastidious. 
 
 Reserve has, however, rather to do with the expediency of 
 such a publication than with the manner in which it is con- 
 ducted. A Diary is chiefly interesting as a portraitm-e of feel- 
 ings which are discoverable through no other medium. It is 
 by this means that we are convinced of the reality of virtues 
 which we may hitherto have admired in their outlme, and 
 from a distance ; or we ai'e encouraged by perceiving that 
 others are no strangers to the trials wliich we may sometimes 
 believe exclusively our own. 
 
 In the Diary of Bishop Sandford, many passages have been 
 repressed, which — though deeply delightful to his nearest re- 
 lations — were considered of too sacred a character for the 
 public eye. To have given less, would have neither satisfied 
 the Christian world, nor done justice to the memoiy of him 
 whom it has lost. 
 
DIARY. 
 
 :nn3jDn ""^n Vd, Ps. cxxxix. 3. 
 
 Thou art acquainted with all my ways. 
 
 1824, Dec. 25. — Received yesterday a present 
 of Mr Erskine's Essay upon Faith. I think that 
 St Paul's definition of faith should be the basis of 
 all such works ; for all that can rightly be said 
 on this important subject, may be traced to these 
 words of holy scripture : "Effr/ ^s t/W/? lX'7riZp(Lkmv 
 yTo<rra<r/?, 'X^ci'yiitdrcov g'Xsy^o? ov ^Xi'Troihivcov^ *' Now 
 faith is the substance of things expected ; the 
 evidence [conviction] of things not seen." In 
 discussing this subject we must begin by the 
 definition of terms ; now, v'TCoarKGig^ derived from 
 v9ro, suhj under, and 'iffTT^f/i^i, colioco, I place, — 
 may be rendered " foundation," with regard to 
 the basis on which a superstructure is raised ; 
 and " substance," in reference to the superstruc- 
 ture so raised. Our translators have given to 
 the Greek word this latter signification, con- 
 ceiving the latter portion of the text to be the 
 elucidation of the former ; in whicli latter portion 
 they render the word eXgy^^o?, " evidence;" clearly 
 considering 'iXsyx^og capable of the same double 
 
112 DIARY. 
 
 sense as vTroffraffic^ — either the *' testimony or 
 proof" which produces " conviction," or the 
 " conviction" thus produced. The whole sub- 
 ject of faith in its most extensive sense, appears 
 to me involved in these expressions fully opened. 
 26. — Sunday after Christmas. Preached in the 
 forenoon (Gal. vi. 5,) a discourse for the conclu- 
 sion of the year, considered as an emblem of 
 the end of life. The weather most exceedingly 
 stormy, — with wind and snow, — consequently the 
 chapel not very well attended. I think that infirm 
 and sickly people may be excused from exposing 
 themselves to the danger of cold in such severe 
 weather ; many more make it a reason for stay- 
 ing at home. Health is an important blessing, 
 of which we should be careful, and for which 
 we should be most thankful to the gracious 
 God who bestows it; tut in the care sometimes 
 taken of health, even at the expense of more 
 serious duties, I have sometimes thought I saw 
 exemplified the words of the Satirist, 
 
 " Et propter vitam, vivendi perdere causas." — 3vv. 
 
 For the sake of life neglecting the very causes 
 for which life is granted. 
 
 27. — D and C came to us by dinner 
 
 time. D confirmed my opinion that the 
 
 Greek word IX'n'i'Qjj signifies to expect, — the con- 
 templation of something future, whether good or 
 evil. — Spero has the like meaning in Latin. — 
 Wrote on Heb. xi. 1. 
 
UlARY. 113 
 
 30 111 constant and exceeding pain. Mise- 
 rere mei, O Deiis. 
 
 31. — . . . . And thus has closed on me the 
 year 1824. Hear, O merciful God, the humble 
 and earnest, — but except for the intercession 
 through which I am permitted to offer them, — 
 the most unworthy prayers, in which I have 
 acknowledged thy continual mercies to me and 
 mine, during this past year, — and my own of- 
 fences and sins, and negligence and ignorance. 
 Hear them, O Father of mercies, and for Christ's 
 sake grant me, that thy goodness and long-suf- 
 fering may lead me to repentance, and that the 
 remainder of my pilgrimage may be guided by 
 thy Holy Spirit, and that I may be prepared for 
 the hour when the Son of man cometh. Amen. 
 
 1825, Jan. 1. — A new year has opened on me. 
 May the gracious and merciful God, through 
 whose goodness I have, with all my family, been 
 protected and preserved, continue his mercy to 
 us, and above all, keep us by his Spirit in the 
 path of his commandments, through Jesus Christ 
 our Lord. Amen. 
 
 4. — Very ill indeed ; yet I managed to read 
 the forty-fifth Psalm twice or thrice in the He- 
 brew, in the pretty psalter which dear C 
 
 has procured me. The bible he has sent me is 
 indeed a treasure. 
 
 9, First Sunday after Epiphany. — Mr G 
 
 preached in the afternoon on St John, xi. 34, 35. 
 I heard so imperfectly that I can give no ac- 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
114 DIARY. 
 
 count of liis discourse. I could meditate, 
 however, on the subject, and a more affecting 
 and edifying subject cannot be offered to the 
 mind. He " who is our example, that we should 
 follow his steps," has shown us that sorrow, 
 natural and amiable, is not forbidden. At the 
 same time, there is a period to it; and in the 
 conviction of the immortality which he has 
 brought to light through the gospel, the Christian, 
 *' who sorrows not as those who have no hope," 
 should find that period. By the way, I know 
 not a passage more appropriate to the subject of 
 my lecture in the forenoon. The whole history 
 of the death and resurrection of Lazarus, and of 
 our Lord's conduct and discourse on the oc- 
 casion, carries with it marks of authenticity 
 which the meanest understanding may discover. 
 No passages of the blessed gospels are more 
 striking to me in this respect than those of 
 sentiment, in which the affectionate yet dignified 
 feeling, which marked the character of Jesus, is 
 displayed : these could not have been invented. 
 Again, a useful lesson may be drawn from our 
 Saviour's conduct. While he felt, and conde- 
 scended to express his feelings, he acted also. 
 He teaches us that we must act. If we imitate 
 him in sympathizing with the sorrows of our 
 brethren, let us endeavour also to relieve them. 
 This is a lesson to be learned from the history ; 
 and so prominent is it, that it scarcely can be 
 called indirect 
 
DIARY. 115 
 
 10. — Owen remarks, that *' it is not sufficiently 
 considered how much a minister's personal re- 
 ligion is exposed to danger, from the very 
 circumstance of religion being his business and 
 employment. He must go through the acts 
 of religion : he must put on the appearance of 
 religion : he must utter the language and display 
 the feelings of religion. It requires double 
 diligence and vigilance to maintain under such 
 circumstances the spirit of religion. I have 
 prayed ; I have talked ; I have preached : but 
 now I should perish, after all, if I did not feed 
 on the bread which I have broken to others."— 
 Cecil, 
 
 11 Employed over the Septuagint translation 
 
 of the Psalms. The numeration of the Psalms 
 does not follow the Hebrew : the 9th and 10th 
 psalms are reckoned as one, yet the verses are 
 numbered as belonging to two psalms. At the 
 close there is a psalm which is said to have been 
 composed by David in his combat with Goliath, 
 not in the Hebrew Psalter. 
 
 12. — . . . My beloved very alarmingly 
 
 ill. O Father of mercies, and God of all consola- 
 tion, permit thy wretched and unworthy creature 
 to look up to thee in this hour of trial. O Lord, 
 
 have mercy on my beloved ; sanctify this 
 
 thy visitation to her and to her family. Thy 
 will be done : Thou art the Lord of life and 
 death ; only enable me to submit myself to thee, 
 to cast all my care on thee, and sustain me in 
 
 H 2 
 
116 DIARY. 
 
 this hour of difficulty. Peace, O speak peace 
 to thy weakened servant, now on the bed of 
 sickness. If thou seest fit, restore her to us in 
 health and comfort. If thou hast ordained other- 
 wise, give me and mine hearts submissive to 
 thy will, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 
 
 13. — My beloved ■ , through God's mercy, 
 
 is much relieved to-day : I had the happiness to 
 hear her voice, which I have not done since 
 Monday. I praise Almighty God for his good- 
 ness in restoring her to us, and may His blessing 
 attend her recovery ! 
 
 19 Very unfit for study in mind and body 
 
 Have mercy on me, O Lord, and in thy great 
 goodness ordain the termination of this sad trial, 
 if it be thy will ; but ohx ^i sy^t) S^sXsy, ahX ug av. 
 
 23. — Read the Iv. of Isaiah in the Hebrew. 
 Nothing can exceed the aifecting mercy of the 
 invitation to sinners in the 7th verse, inrjm"'"! is 
 scarcely rendered by " He will have mercy on 
 him." It expresses the tenderness of the Father 
 of the prodigal, — " He will receive him with 
 open arms, and affectionate tenderness." 
 
 26 Read the lives of Cecil, Cadogan, Bacon, 
 
 and Newton. I'hat of Cecil is greatly the most 
 interesting and pleasing. The Quarterly Review, 
 No. LXII. has found great fault with the life of 
 Newton, accusing his biographer and himself of 
 imputing to extraordinary visitations of the Holy 
 Spirit effects which may be traced to ordinary 
 causes. Newton, however, no where denies the 
 
DIARY. 117 
 
 early advantages of private instruction, and when 
 his heart was opened by the providence of God, 
 for I can think no less, to " the things belonging 
 to his peace," he acknowledged how much he 
 owed to the excellent parent, who, under the 
 blessing of God, had sown in his heart the seed, 
 which, though for a season hidden, at length 
 sprang up, and bare an hundred-fold. I am no 
 friend to enthusiasm, and still less to spiritual 
 pride, but I do think there was much of especial 
 mercy in the case of Newton. 
 
 27* — Prayed with my beloved , and read 
 
 the 12th chapter of St Matthew. I am always 
 struck with the exemplification of faith in the 
 case of the man with the withered hand. Had an 
 ordinary physician bid him stretch forth his hand, 
 he would probably have answered that he could 
 not ; but when Jesus commanded, he made the 
 attempt, and in the attempt was healed. Our 
 powers are as inefficient and worthless as the 
 man's withered hand ; but if in faith we endea- 
 vour to make the commanded exertion, the Lord 
 will, for Christ's sake, accept this testimony, and 
 in the attempt we shall be healed. 
 
 It has been sometimes questioned whether 
 " the sin against the Holy Ghost" can now be 
 committed. The answer to so awful an inquiry 
 seems to be this. In the malignity of corrupted 
 hearts that imputed Christ's miracles of mercy to 
 the interposition of the enemy of mankind, the 
 wickedness of the Pharisees consisted. Now it 
 
118 D I ARY. 
 
 is a solemn question to be put to the hearts and 
 consciences of those who accuse the evangelists 
 of our blessed Lord of imposture, how far they 
 approach a guilt not very dissimilar to that of 
 the Pharisees, when we consider who he is, 
 who was a liar from the beginning, and is the 
 author or instigator of all falsehood. 
 
 30. — Lecture IX. On the example of Christ 
 as an evidence of the authenticity of the gospel- 
 history. I think this evidence is much stronger 
 than is generally observed. It was impossible for 
 the evangelists to have conceived such a charac- 
 ter as that of Jesus Christ. 
 
 31. — The first thing which occurred to me 
 this day was to receive the most gratifying in- 
 telligence of the worth and diligence of my be- 
 loved . May that almighty and merciful 
 
 hand, which has been over him for good, still 
 preserve and guide him for Christ's sake. I 
 cannot find words to express my humble and 
 earnest gratitude to the Giver of all good. In- 
 numerable and continual are God's mercies to 
 me, and this mercy is above all delightful. I 
 have been permitted to thank God with my lips, 
 — may I be enabled through His grace to thank 
 Him with the service of my life. 
 
 February 1. — O quam inanes hominum curae, 
 quantis angoribus vexatus est animus mens,— prae- 
 terita revolvens, — de praesentibus anxius — de fu- 
 turis solicitus — quam vellem Davidis in star me 
 meaque plenissima fide in Dei Optimi Maximi 
 
DIARY. 119 
 
 manus tradere : ut de me secundum voluntatem 
 suam semper misericordem et benignam decernat. 
 Quamvellemmolestiis quibus indesinenter crucior 
 silentium et pacem imponere ! 'IXao-^;;r/ [j^oi too 
 ajJMPTcSko!)^ 6 Qsoc. 
 
 February 12. — And thus I close this book — a 
 record of — nothing! Except in as much as it 
 contains the acknowledgment of mercies re- 
 ceived, for which may He who can guide the 
 heart of man make me thankful, — and of prayers 
 for spiritual benefits which indeed I want. O 
 Lord, O gracious Father of mercies, hear me, 
 and pity me, for Christ's sake. Amen. 'IXao-^^jr/ 
 IJjOi roj aiJjOc^Tookoj, 6 0goj. 
 
 February 15. Tuesday. — During my breakfast 
 I read the 51st Psalm. I think our version 
 of the 4th verse is mistaken, — and I have the 
 authority of Horsley to translate the words in 
 the simplest manner. 
 
 That thou mayest be just in thy sentence. 
 
 That thou mayest be clear in thy judgment. 
 
 March 6. 3d Sunday in Lent. — Read a most 
 affecting discourse of Cooper's on the sacrifice of 
 God. Grant, O Father of mercies, that I may 
 be enabled to offer unto thee this sacrifice, ac- 
 ceptable through Jesus Christ, and that I may 
 be for His sake accepted. 
 
 March 18. John iv. verse 14. — The figure of a 
 well of water, springing up into everlasting life, 
 I endeavoured to explain at our evening worship. 
 
120 DIARY. 
 
 It is a most beautiful and affecting symbol of the 
 purifying and exhilarating influence of the Holy 
 Spirit. 
 
 April 5, Easter Sunday. — Our public services 
 at this holy season are now concluded. I bless 
 and praise the goodness of Almighty God for 
 enabling me to perform its duties with more 
 comfort, and with less suffering, than I have 
 known for many years. O gracious and merciful 
 Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, accept, for His 
 sake, the poor and humble offering of my life 
 devoted, if Thou wilt grant me grace, to Thee, 
 for its short and uncertain remainder. O sanc- 
 tify and guide me, — Lead me, because of my 
 enemies, make Thy way plain before me. 
 
 28. Saturday. — Negotiis quibusdam nugatoriis, 
 necessariis tamen, implicitus, majorem diei partem 
 consumpsi, multis, eisdemque baud opinato acci- 
 dentibus, doloribus vexatus fui. Remedium quid- 
 dam applicandum est vespero, antequam omnem 
 recuperandae valetudinis spem abjicio. Li D. 
 O. M. manibus sum. De me juxta misericor- 
 diam suam decernat. — Qusedam de punctis He- 
 braeis Masoreticis didici. Psalmum primum legi 
 Hebraice. 
 
 May 28. — Doloribus assiduis et severis vexa- 
 tus. quid de me ? 
 
 29, Trinity Sunday. — Preached on St Mat- 
 thew xxviii. 19. — a passage declaring this mys- 
 terious doctrine in the most authoritative man- 
 ner. When we contemplate the time at whicli 
 
DIARY. 121 
 
 tliese words were uttered, — the dignity oi Him 
 who spake^ the Christ, risen from the dead, " de- 
 clared by his resurrection to be the Son of God 
 with power ;" just about to ascend up to Heaven 
 and to sit down on the throne of liis mediatorial 
 kingdom, at the right hand of the Majesty on 
 high, and the purpose for which these words 
 were uttered, it is impossible not to be moved 
 with them. They contain incontrovertibly the 
 doctrine, in the faith of which we are baptized, 
 and which we are thus bound to believe and pro- 
 fess, of the Trinity, and of the Trinity in Unity. 
 Our Lord says, dg to opo[Jjcc. Had not the three 
 persons been 07ie God, our Lord would doubtless 
 have not used this form of expression, but as the 
 place would in any other case require, slg ra ovo- 
 [jtjUTu. I am convinced of this, the more I reflect 
 upon it, 
 
 31. Tuesday. — I have suffered most severely 
 for these two or three last days. I have begun 
 a system which I trust will be of service, and 
 which I entreat of Him who can alone give 
 strength, to give me resolution to pursue. My 
 sufficiency in self-denial, and in every other 
 thing must come from Him alone. 
 
 June J, Wednesday My present condition of 
 
 body is deplorable,— I have no rest, no ceasing 
 of irritation or anxiety. May He who hath in 
 wisdom and mercy afflicted, support me under 
 this trial for Christ's sake. 
 
 5. 1st Sunday after Trinity The collect of this 
 
122 DIARY. 
 
 day is one of the most beautiful and excellent, 
 of these beautiful and excellent compositions. 
 It is in the true spirit of Christian humility and 
 piety, and doubtless, when offered in sincerity 
 of spirit, will be heard by the Father of our 
 blessed and powerful Intercessor. May 1 and all 
 dear to me, be enabled so to pray for Christ's 
 sake. Amen. 
 
 June 9. — In Davison's 2d sermon he speaks of 
 sacrifice as a human invention. I cannot agree 
 with him. Against the notion I would state, 1. 
 St Paul's argument, Hebrews xi. 4. concerning 
 Abel's faith, and consequently sacrifice more 
 excellent than Cain's. 2. The difficulty of ima- 
 gining that such a mode of devotion could have 
 been a human invention. 3. From analogy, it 
 would appear that sacrifice was ordained as a type 
 of our blessed Lord's atonement,— the writings 
 of the apostles speak this language, especially 
 the epistle to the Hebrews. Now, if it be sup- 
 posed that sacrifice was the invention of man, 
 this procedure of divine providence is taken 
 away, — or it must be granted that the Almighty 
 stooped to accommodate His proceedings to the 
 contrivance of man. 4. Again, that the whole 
 arrangement of the Jewish ritual came from God 
 is confessed, — and why should we suppose that 
 the most conspicuous part of it, so wonderfully 
 adapted to the doctrine, to be afterwards unfold- 
 ed, of Christ's atonement, 'should have originated 
 from any inferior source. It appears also diffi- 
 
DIARY. 123 
 
 cult otherwise to account for many transactions 
 in the Old Testament,_for the skins wherewith 
 Adam and Eve, for instance, were clothed after 
 the fall,— for the distinction of clean and unclean 
 animals before animal food was allowed to man, — 
 without supposing the ordinance of sacrifice ap- 
 pointed of God. The word n-nnton, clean, pure, 
 Gen. vii. 2. can scarcely be understood in any 
 signification in this text, than that of ceremonial 
 purity. See notes on Van Mildert's Boyle's lec- 
 tures, — Magee on the Atonement — notes. 
 
 June 12.— The more I think on the subject, 
 the more difficulty I find in conceiving it pos- 
 sible that animal sacrifice could have been the 
 invention of man. It would appear much more 
 likely that the sacrifice of Cain was the invention 
 of man. The whole of that history tends to 
 prove that the sacrifice of Abel, offered, as St 
 Paul says, " in faith," was " more excellent" 
 than that of Cain, because it was the offering or- 
 dained of God. There is no instance of a sa- 
 crifice miraculously consumed that was not an 
 animal sacrifice. The natural idea of God is of 
 a beneficent being, — the natural offering, any 
 thing but a bloody sacrifice. The notion of vi- 
 carious sacrifice could not have been invented. 
 The quo non hostia ulla dignior vita, — as we may 
 express it, in allusion to the words of Juvenal, — 
 is not a notion which could have found its way 
 into the mind, but from tradition. The history 
 of mankind is most wonderful; and can be ex- 
 
124 DIARY. 
 
 plained by the Bible alone. We find animal sa- 
 crifice among the most savage people. Whence 
 did they acquire the opinion that the supreme 
 Being could be so propitiated ? Surely only from 
 their fathers, — some of them cannot count five, 
 yet have animal sacrifice ; and also a belief of a 
 future state of retribution. Is this nature ? Is 
 this to be expected from the unassisted reason of 
 minds incapable of counting farther than a mag- 
 pie ? A magpie, it is well known, can count 
 three. If she observe three persons to hide them- 
 selves near her nest, and only two to go away, 
 she will not come forth. 
 
 June 30. — Here is closed the fifty-ninth year 
 of my life. That mercy which hath followed 
 me all my days, is still watching over me and 
 mine. Good God, Father of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, make me deeply thankful for thy innum- 
 erable benefits ; deeply penitent for my number- 
 less and continued offences and imperfections ; 
 and by thy grace, for Christ's sake, enable me 
 so to walk before thee for the remainder of my 
 days, that, in the end, I may obtain everlasting 
 life. Amen. 
 
 July 6. — I lent Johnson's Lives. 
 
 What necessary connection is there between 
 literary ability and worldly indiscretion ? Yet 
 these volumes are the history of their almost 
 inseparable union. Pope and Swift, and perhaps 
 Young, and one or two more, are exceptions to 
 a rule which seems almost general. 
 
DIARY. 1 2,5 
 
 7, Thursday. — Passed a very pleasant day 
 
 at lady S 's villa. I was much pleased with 
 
 my visit, and most deeply thankful for the great 
 ease of body which Divine Goodness permits me 
 to enjoy. 
 
 12, Tuesday. — Faxit Deus O. M. ut pros- 
 perum sit iter nostrum : per Dominum nostrum 
 Iesum Christum. Amen. 
 
 13, Wednesday. — Last night we embarked 
 on board the Soho steam packet; and, after a 
 good night, rose while the vessel was in full 
 action, with a favourable wind, which, however, 
 did not remain with us long. 
 
 15, Friday. — By the blessing of God the 
 voyage was performed in fifty-two hours ; and I 
 
 had the happiness of embracing my beloved 
 
 at one o'clock this day. I found a most affec- 
 tionate letter waiting me from my admirable 
 
 friend Mrs F. B . The heat of the day, and 
 
 the irritation of the journey, have produced a 
 degree of inflammation, and consequent suffer- 
 ing, exceeding any thing I have yet known. 
 
 16, Saturday. — I awoke, after much dis- 
 turbed slumbers, to a sad state of pain ; it drove 
 me at last to my bed. Ease and abstinence, 
 rather repose and abstinence, are the only reme- 
 dies in which I have any faith. The heat is 
 very oppressive, and, I have no doubt, aggra- 
 vates my sufferings. However, in patient sub- 
 mission to the will of God, and in thanks to him 
 
126 
 
 DIARY, 
 
 for his gracious chastisements, I shall, if I have 
 the grace to practise them, find comfort. 
 
 20, Wednesday. — My sufferings were great, 
 but I was much relieved ; and setting out on 
 my journey at 4 o'clock, was, by divine mercy, 
 enabled to reach Newbury without much dis- 
 tress, by one o'clock on the morning of 
 
 21, Thursday. — I slept much better than 
 usual. After a very pleasant journey we reached 
 Bath, at half-past nine, p. m. Retired to rest 
 full, I trust, of gratitude to Almighty God for 
 his many and gracious mercies to me. 
 
 22, Friday. — At one o'clock I embraced my 
 dear, venerable, maternal friend, after a separa- 
 tion of forty-two years. I found her, what she 
 used ever to be to me, the most affectionate of 
 friends. " Happiness will not describe." I passed 
 nearly three hours with her ; she is grown older, 
 and time had left its marks, but I should have 
 known her at once wherever I might have seen 
 her. She is not altered, but inasmuch as she 
 is nearer to her reward. 
 
 23, Saturday. — Proceeded to Wells. 
 
 July 25, Monday. — Examined Judges xi. 
 31. It does not appear to me that there is any 
 reason for supposing that Jephtha intended to 
 sacrifice his daughter. The conjunction i may 
 be rendered "or" instead of "a/zc?;" and the 
 words of the 39th verse put the matter, I 
 think, beyond question. These must allude to 
 the institution of female celibacy ; and Jeph- 
 
DIARY. 1:27 
 
 tha's daughter was the first Jewish nun. I 
 added a short P. S. to my wife's letter to Mrs 
 
 F. B , to thank her for the portrait of Mrs 
 
 Ehzabeth Carter, engraved by CaroHne Watson. 
 There is no picture in my possession which is 
 likely to call up more pleasing associations. The 
 portrait of Mrs E. Carter reminds me of days 
 long past, when I was admitted to Mrs Delany's 
 di'awing room. The name of the engraver 
 brought back, and will continue to bring back, 
 the memory of many a pleasant and instructive 
 evening passed with Caroline Watson, at the 
 house of her amiable and excellent father, who 
 was himself once a distinguished artist and 
 engraver to king George III : 
 
 " Haec meminisse juvat." 
 
 26. — Forsyth's Italy. I am disappointed that 
 he does not give us the epitaph on Antenor at 
 Padua. Evelyn gives it, and in his work it is 
 unintelligible. Forsyth might perhaps have ex- 
 plained it. 
 
 July 27, Wednesday. — Saw the cathedral 
 for a minute. In the evening I privately bap- 
 tized a dying child, which was brought here 
 while my son was on the way to the house of 
 its parents to baptize it.. 
 
 31, Second S. after Trinity. — Preached at the 
 Cathedral, Heb. xi. 1. In the afternoon preached 
 at St Cuthbert's, 2 Pet. iii. 14. 
 
 August 1, Monday,— Attended and ■ 
 
 to the cathedral. This venerable building was 
 
128 DIARY. 
 
 begun about the year 1150; and was, as I was 
 told, nearly two hundred years in building. It 
 is certainly very ancient, and, in some parts, 
 very fine. The Chapter house, a very spacious 
 octagon, containing stalls for the Dean, Canons, 
 and fifty Prebendaries, is a magnificent room. 
 The room is supported by one most admirable 
 Gothic pillar, extremely beautiful. The bad 
 taste of some persons not long since white 
 washed (O nefandum !) the pillar and the ceiling 
 of this noble room, as well as the rest of the 
 cathedral. (N.B. When this whitewasher, or 
 these whitewashers, die, may their tomb or 
 tombs be built in modern Gothic, and kept con- 
 stantly well white washed! An antiquary's ma- 
 lison is said.) But a portion of the centre pillar 
 in the Chapter house has been scraped, and the 
 original colour of the black marble appears,— just 
 enough to make you execrate the barbarous 
 defilement which has spoiled the whole. The 
 lady's chapel, behind the great altar, is very 
 spacious, and, like the rest of the cathedi'al, is 
 kept in good order. There are several tombs, 
 of which I could not learn the history, with re- 
 cumbent statues of the deceased j some of them 
 prelates in their robes. One of these tombs has 
 
 two statues, recumbent, one above the other ; 
 
 the upper one, the bishop, whose tomb it adorns, 
 in his robes ; the lower one, the same prelate 
 in the form of almost a skeleton. I suppose the 
 figure is designed as a memento to modern 
 
DIARY. 129 
 
 bishops, — " to this complexion ye must come at 
 last." We went into the crypt beneath the 
 Chapter house: on a stone table there were a small 
 vase, covered with green verdigris rust, said to 
 contain the ashes of some person of consequence ; 
 
 and several skulls. This is a curious room 
 
 The choir is handsome. The pulpit, which I 
 occupied yesterday, is placed directly opposite 
 the bishop's throne, between the canon's stalls 
 and the communion table. It is not well placed 
 for commanding the audience. The organ was 
 built by Green in I786. It is of course a good 
 organ as it is an organ of Green's ; but it is in 
 very bad order. Within the rails of the com- 
 munion table is a monument of Bishop Kidder, 
 who was killed with his lady by the fall of a 
 stack of chimneys in the palace, while in bed : 
 
 but, paratus fait I have been much pleased 
 
 with the inspection of this cathedral. There 
 are some '* florid windows richly dight," and the 
 *' dim light" they shed was particularly gratify- 
 ing in this hot day. In the great west window 
 are some specimens of the rich and inimitable 
 colours now unknown to glass painters. There 
 is a very singular and ancient clock, said to be 
 above a thousand years old. It was removed 
 from the abbey of Glastonbury to its present 
 place, and is in good order, serving as the 
 clock of the cathedral. The hours and quarters 
 are visibly struck, — on the outside, by two stand- 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
130 DIARY. 
 
 ing figures above the face of the clock in the 
 cathedral yard, — within^ by a venerable old 
 gentleman, who sits, and thumps away at his 
 ease. The dial plate is divided into twenty-four 
 spaces, — two rows of twelve hours each. The 
 hour hand is a sun with rays, on a long rod. 
 The height of the chancel from the floor to the 
 pitch of the ceiling is seventy-one feet ; so of 
 the nave. The arch, a double arch, on which 
 the great centre tower rests, is a very singular 
 specimen of building. 
 
 August 2, Tuesday. Called with on 
 
 Mrs , a venerable octagenarian,— and more, 
 
 she is an admirable specimen of a wealthy English 
 old lady : she is *' full of good works '* — pre- 
 paring for the reward of faith, which cannot be 
 long delayed. She is somewhat deaf, — one of 
 the warnings which I have had some years. May 
 I make a good use of it ! 
 
 We had some most acceptable rain this 
 evening, and every thing is refreshed by it ; it 
 was accompanied, as I was told, by thunder, but 
 neither Mrs nor I were the wiser. 
 
 3, Wednesday. — I sent my letter to . I 
 
 hope it will not offend him. I am sure that I 
 desire only to do what is my duty, and what 
 may be for the good of religion. 
 
 5. — In reading the xxvii. chapter of St Mat- 
 thew this evening, I have been more affected 
 than I can express with the awful sufferings of 
 
DIARY. 131 
 
 our blessed Lord. May such impression prove 
 the work of God's Holy Spirit! 
 
 ^ii'j ru »(psi^a; sou oii^x x.kxurt 
 oT^iy oivTot, 'Knoiiv 6a,x,qvot, ri; 
 
 7, Tenth Sunday after Trinity. — Preached 
 at St Cuthbert's in the forenoon. I came home 
 in very great distress of body ; and have no re- 
 source but patience and abstinence, — with prayer, 
 unworthy prayer, and supplication to Him who 
 knows my sufferings, that he may look with 
 mercy on me, and give me strength to support 
 whatever his wisdom and 7nercy shall ordain for 
 me. — (Heber*s Life of Jeremy Taylor.) I read 
 of such Christians with admiration and shame ; 
 not that with my best exertions at my best 
 time, I could ever have approached the excel- 
 lencies of such men, but from a sense of the 
 neglect of the opportunities and powers God 
 has bestowed on me. How shall I stand the great 
 inquiry ! Save me, O Lord Jesus Christ ; in thy 
 name alone is my help. 
 
 August 8, Monday — Taylor's Life. His idea 
 of "tears forming with the light of heaven a 
 rainbow in the eye, to remind us of God's mercy," 
 is on the very edge of absurdity ; yet he has 
 managed to avoid the danger, and render it very 
 poetical. Some modern preachers have endea- 
 voured to imitate Taylor : but this is absurd, 
 and, in their hands, the figurative and poetical 
 expressions of Taylor have produced nothing 
 
 I 2 
 
132 DIARY. 
 
 but disgust or ridicule. Taylor is the Shakspeare 
 of the pulpit. He has a style of his own, which 
 no feebler minds can attain ; — " within that 
 circle none can walk but he." 
 
 9, Tuesday. left us for the day to go to 
 
 Bath. They set out with rain, but the showers 
 appeared merely flying ; and it is better in a 
 journey, as in life, to begin with the dark cloud 
 than to end with it. 
 
 Composed a prayer for faith, on which I im- 
 plore the blessing of God. 
 
 Tenebrosus dies ; miserere mei, O Deus ! 
 
 10. My dear and most valued friend, Mrs 
 
 F B , who, at her advanced age, has 
 
 put herself to the trouble of a journey hither, to 
 pass a few days with us, reached Wells this day. 
 
 I suffered very much, and the whole of the 
 night was very distressing. 
 
 11, Thursday. — I rose somewhat easier than 
 I was yesterday, by Divine goodness bestowed 
 on a most unworthy object. How much I see 
 in myself every day to disapprove of! I could 
 say with Donne, *' How must I be changed be- 
 fore I am changed." 
 
 Went with to the Deanery to call on 
 
 Mrs F B and sat nearly two hours with 
 
 her. We had much conversation, which inter- 
 ested me greatly. 
 
 Received a very satisfactory letter from . 
 
 May I be thankful as I ought for these aids : 
 without them I know not how I should be able 
 
DIARY. 133 
 
 to go on. I have mucli to depress me ; but I 
 require and merit chastisement ; I pray earnestly 
 that the dispensations of Divine wisdom and 
 goodness may be sanctified to me, for Jesus 
 Christ's sake. Amen. 
 
 12. Nothing is more striking than the ignor- 
 ance of many persons in England, concerning 
 the history of a church which was once as much 
 an established church as their own. They know 
 no more of our poor Scottish Episcopal church 
 than they do of a church in Mesopotamia- We 
 must pray that, by the goodness of Divine Pro- 
 vidence, the church of England may never be 
 reduced to " first principles," as the Episcopal 
 church in Scotland has been. In the dispen- 
 sation of affliction, wherewith it pleased God to 
 visit the Scottish church, good, however, has been 
 brought out of evil; and the steadiness of at- 
 tachment to the genume principles of apostolic 
 regimen has been the result of much trial, — per- 
 secution at one time, and neglect now. 
 
 18, Thursday My health is more uncertain 
 
 and distressing than can be told. I beseech, 
 most humbly beseech the Almighty, through 
 our blessed Lord, to give me a spirit of true 
 pious submission to his holy will. In the midst 
 of my various sufferings and trials, O may faith 
 in Him, and in Jesus Christ wiiom he has sent, 
 support and guide me, and render my unworthy 
 meditations and prayers acceptable in His sight. 
 Have mercy on me, O Lord, according to thy 
 
134 DIARY. 
 
 great goodness ; after the multitude of thy 
 mercies, do away mine offences. May I be 
 enabled to offer up the humble prayer of the 
 publican from my heart ; and for Christ's sake, 
 may the supplication be accepted. 
 
 20, Saturday. — After a night of great distress, 
 I rose to continued suffering the whole forenoon. 
 May the Almighty support me : but my trial 
 is great for my weakness. I could offer up holy 
 Herbert's prayer ; but I am not worthy to use 
 the words of such a man. I dread the duties 
 of to-morrow ; but my trust is in Him who never 
 faileth ; and if he see fitting, I shall be enabled 
 to perform my duty. To him and him alone I 
 look. 
 
 23, Thursday.— 2 Corinth, iv. 7, "That the 
 excellency of the power may be of God, and not 
 of us." If this text teaches us humility, and in- 
 culcates the lowly ascription of all our ministerial 
 success to the Holy Author of *' every good and 
 every perfect gift," of whom we are only the 
 frail mortal instruments, at the same time it 
 fills us with comfort,— for the good which is 
 done by our ministry being thus referable to 
 the highest and holiest, we are confident that it 
 will be, through His blessing, permanent. 
 
 23.— Set out for Bath. 
 
 25, Thursday. — Genesis iv. 7- As yet I can- 
 not abandon the literal interpretation of the 
 words, ^^nn PiXton nnsb, and I am much surprised 
 that, in all the criticism bestowed on this verse 
 
DIARY. 135 
 
 by Davison and the authors whom he quotes, 
 nothing: is said of the word nns. I do not know 
 of any place in holy scripture where this word 
 is used figuratively ; and, unless this can be 
 shown, there is no supporting so strong a meta- 
 phor as the advocates of the figurative meaning 
 of the passage contend for. Davison takes 
 no notice of the remainder of the verse. I hope 
 that he would not translate it as Martini does, 
 in his Italian version of the Vulgate. Martini's 
 is, in my opinion, one of the wildest interpreta- 
 tions ever produced. To be sure, it is a version 
 of the Vulgate ; but, I think, it is not tenable. 
 In the next place, Martini (after the Vul.) ap- 
 plies the "inpitiTi, to ain — (in the Heb. the suffix 
 is masc. and cannot properly be applied to 
 nKton). Now the words are remarkable ; they 
 are the same as those in which the Lord declares 
 the subjection of Eve to her husband. Genesis 
 iii. 16. I have always thought this passage in 
 the iv. chapter to allude to Abel ; and to pro- 
 mise to Cain the continuance of the priority 
 of primogeniture, if he were reconciled to God. 
 
 We left Bath at half-past one, and reached 
 Marlborough at half-past seven. I read Davi- 
 son's Book, very cursorily, on the road. I do 
 not agree with him. 
 
 26, Friday. — We left Marlborough and 
 reached Salt hill. I read a good deal of Davi- 
 son's book on the road, and meditated on it still 
 more. I think that neither he nor the other 
 
136 DIARY. 
 
 commentators have completely examined Gen. 
 iv. 7> in all its expressions and bearings. 1 am 
 surprised at Magee*s omitting the argument from 
 St Paul's declaration, that by his "TrXilcav ^vffiu 
 Abel obtained witness that he was righteous. I 
 am also surprised at Davison's omitting the close 
 of the 7th verse in Genesis iv. and the reasoning 
 to be derived from it. I must repeat my wish 
 to have the word nns well examined. 
 
 I read in the carriage, and afterwards, the 3d 
 and 4th chapters of Genesis in the Hebrew. I 
 retired to rest, full, I trust, of gratitude to the 
 goodness of the Almighty for my improved 
 health ; and full, also, I hope, of unqualified 
 filial submission to the will of God. 
 
 27, Saturday Rose soon after seven ; and 
 
 I hope my prayers will be heard, my sins par- 
 doned, my soul, and spirit, and body sanctified 
 to the service of God, through Jesus Christ our 
 Lord. 
 
 Read the 2d chapter of Genesis in the He- 
 brew. Reached Sunbury at two o'clock. 
 
 Mr very kindly gave me Hele's Devo- 
 tions ; may the use of the book be, for Christ's 
 sake, sanctified to me ! 
 
 28, Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity. — Began 
 the day Avith serious prayer. Oh ! hear me, 
 gracious God, for Christ's sake ! 
 
 Read some passages of Davison, whom I think 
 as well as Magee to have made a great mistake in 
 not applying the words of the 4th verse of Heb. 
 
DIARY. 137 
 
 xi. already noticed by nie in a former page. To 
 be considered righteous in consequence of the 
 acceptance of a sacrifice does certainly appear to 
 me as implying that the sacrifice was expiatory. 
 
 29, Monday Began the day early in a man- 
 ner which, I humbly trust, was approved by Him 
 who heareth prayer. 
 
 September S Sir called, full of zealous 
 
 kindness. How cordial is it to me to find an old 
 and esteemed friend such as I left him. I am 
 more and more confirmed in my notion of the 
 ou 'TTi^'Tti^zvzrai, 1 Cor. xiii. 4. as expressing the 
 consistency of the Christian character. 
 
 4, Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity. — My in- 
 firmities prevented me from going to the morning 
 service, but, through Divine goodness, I hope I 
 employed myself acceptably in my chamber, till 
 I joined the congregation for the administration 
 of the holy communion, wherein I assisted. I 
 trust this holy service will, through God's mercy 
 in Christ, avail to the strengthening of my soul, 
 and the sanctification of my life. Much do 1 
 need the consolation of forgiveness : weak am I, 
 and much do I require that strength which can 
 come from God alone, and of myself, '' there is 
 no health in me.'* I must be sanctified through 
 the grace of God, that I may walk before Him 
 in newness of life. May my prayers be heard, 
 and, for my Redeemer's sake, answered ! After 
 family prayers, meditated in my room on the 5th 
 chapter of the Romans. 
 
138 DIARY. 
 
 September 5. — I know not where I met with 
 the remark, which I think a very just one, that 
 in Romans vi. I7. the word rin is to be under- 
 stood in the same sense as 'fuit' in the phrase 
 *' Troja fuit ;" and that the first clause of the 
 verse, may, therefore, be rendered, "Thanks be to 
 God, that ye are no longer the servants of sin:" 
 an assertion corresponding with the 14th verse, 
 oifjboi^Tia, ya^ viloov ov kv^izvgzi. This freedom from 
 the dominion of sin is the result of the merciful 
 dispensation, through which, ov yd^ go-rg vtto voilov, 
 uXX' v'Tto XH^^' M^y God grant that they who are 
 admitted to this blessed privilege, may be also 
 preserved from forfeiting it by returning to the 
 miserable servitude from which they are released ! 
 
 September 9, Friday — I desire to bless and 
 praise thee, O my God, for the mercies which 
 Thou daily bestowest upon me, and for the de- 
 gree of ease which is my portion this morning. 
 I am indeed less than the least of Thy mercies ; 
 but Thou art ever good and gracious. Make me 
 ever sensible of Thy loving-kindness ; and enable 
 me, in a righteous, godly, and sober life, to show 
 forth Thy praise, and my own gratitude. 
 
 The exercise of the carriage has done me 
 harm. — I am, alas ! a very infirm person at pre- 
 sent ; and I need the mercy and grace of God 
 to teach me submission to His will. While my 
 friends are gone to their various out of door 
 pursuits, I am left to find my entertainment in 
 books at home ; and much ought I to thank God 
 
DIARY. 139 
 
 that my eyes serve me so well. I am never 
 weary of reading. My care must be to prevent 
 myself from contracting such a habit of solitary 
 life as will render me unfit for society. I thank 
 Almighty God with increased earnestness and 
 gratitude for the sincere friends who are left me. 
 Above all, I do indeed bless and praise him for 
 the unshaken regard of my own beloved family. 
 They become more delightful and valuable to 
 me every day. Make me, gracious and holy 
 Disposer of the heart, worthy of Thy continued 
 bounties, especially the blessings which Thou 
 hast allowed me in my dear wife and children, 
 and children's children. 
 
 September 10, Saturday. — This day we left 
 the hospitable roof of our kind friends, and 
 reached Eltham at six o'clock, where I once 
 more, and I almost fear for the last time, saw 
 my beloved and excellent friend, Mrs F — B — . 
 We were received with the greatest kindness by 
 the admirable old lady, Mrs B , who is de- 
 tained a little longer in this world to show how 
 amiable and venerable is Christian old age. 
 
 We reached London at half-past nine. I do 
 not know that I ever felt myself so much fa- 
 tigued in so short a journey. Somewhat of this 
 was perhaps owing to a dejection of spirits. I 
 could not, unmoved, visit the house where I had 
 spent some happy and pious days with Mr 
 
 B , now no more, and I could not look on 
 
 my dear friend, who appears to me much altered 
 
140 DIARY. 
 
 since 1 saw her, even but a fortniglit since, with- 
 out some apprehensions. These apprehensions 
 may soon be reaUzed ; but it is happy to look 
 forward to the rest which remaineth. May every 
 day which brings me nearer to that time when 
 my Ufe on earth shall close, find me, through 
 God's grace and mercy, fitter fi^r the change ! 
 
 I retire to my bed, thankful for the preserva- 
 tion vouchsafed me and mine this day, and for 
 all the various comforts and blessings which 
 through Divine goodness have attended me dur- 
 ing the period here recorded We reached Lon- 
 don at half-past nine. 
 
 September 11. Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity. 
 — Read this evening a sermon of Bishop Home's 
 on " Life a Pilgrimage." — May God grant that 
 I may continually remember that it is such, and 
 where it ends ! 
 
 13, Tuesday Mascarcahas sent to me last 
 
 evening to inform me that he had received a 
 summons to the Church Missionary Academy 
 at Islington. I hope that God will bless and 
 
 guide him With proper education, I think that 
 
 he is very likely to become a useful missionary in 
 the East, among the natives. 
 
 17, Saturday. — I did not rise till eight o'clock, 
 and then only through necessity, for I had been 
 nearly without sleep. I heartily pray God to 
 cause His chastisements to work together for my 
 good. There is a mansion where the weary are 
 at rest, where the wicked cease from troubling, 
 
DIARY. 141 
 
 where the " former things" which now have 
 power to vex and disturb us "shall be passed 
 away for ever." As every day brings me nearer 
 to the term of my probation, so, by the blessing 
 of God, and the guidance of His Spirit, may 
 I be prepared more and more for that awful 
 hour ! 
 
 25, Seventeenth Sun. after Trinity. — Performed 
 some devotions at home ; and then sat down to 
 Davison on Primitive Sacrifice. Davison has this 
 disadvantage with me, that I am so prepossessed 
 against the notion of the human origin of sacri- 
 fice, that his arguments must be very powerful 
 to persuade me to adopt his opinion. I pray 
 that I may read with candour ; and with the 
 same disposition which, I have no doubt, guided 
 him in this discussion, an earnest desire to dis- 
 cover the truth. Kennicot argues, that (in the 
 case of our first parents' clothing) Adam would 
 not have dared to kill any of God's creatures 
 without His command ; and to this, I think, it 
 might be added, that for a Eucharistic Sacri- 
 fice, — and Davison contends that the sacrifices of 
 Cain and Abel were no other, and no more, — 
 man would have been very little likely to kill 
 an animal, but rather to present it before the 
 altar, as Cain presented his fruits, adorned with 
 garlands and tokens of thanksgiving. In Gen. 
 vii., the word rendered " clean" is nmntan — in 
 Lev. xi. 5., the word rendered " unclean," is 
 KTDta ; this is of importance. 
 
142 DIARY. 
 
 In what manner it pleased God to signify His 
 ** respect unto Abel and his offering," we are 
 not distinctly told ; that whatever the token were, 
 it was at once understood, is evident from the 
 history. In the xx. Psalm, the words *' accept 
 thy burnt sacrifice ^^ are i^wr^ "inVipi and are often 
 referred to on this subject. In the case of 
 Gideon's sacrifice, Judges vi. 21., and Elijah's, 
 1 Kings xviii. 38. this divine acceptance was 
 testified by miraculous fire to destroy the sacri- 
 fice ; and this is evidently alluded to in the pas- 
 sage quoted from the xx. Psalm, for the word 
 ]E/T signifies " in cineres redegit" see Simonis 
 Diet. Heb.-Chald. subjoined to the first volume 
 of his edition of the Hebrew Bible. 
 
 The second lesson of the afternoon on this 
 day, is 1 Cor. x. In the 9th verse are these 
 words, " Neither let us tempt Christ as some of 
 them also tempted, and were destroyed of ser- 
 pents." On referring to the history. Numbers 
 xxi. 5. we read that the offence was committed 
 against Jehovah. Is it possible for any thing 
 but Socinian blindness and perverseness, to avoid 
 the necessary inference? In the 7th verse of 
 this chapter, the ttcc/^siv was evidently a sacred 
 dance performed after the fashion of idolatry, 
 learnt in Egypt, around the altar of the false 
 divinity, and succeeding to a " feast upon the 
 sacrifice." " The people sat down to eat and 
 to drink, and rose up to play," tui^siv. 
 
DIARY. 143 
 
 September 29. — Before I was up the Bishop 
 
 of L if called very kindly, and left his speech 
 
 on the Catholic Question, — the best, in my, 
 opinion, which was delivered in the House of 
 Lords, and very greatly superior to any thing 
 pronounced in the House of Commons. 
 
 October 1. — Mens mea multis angoribus vex- 
 ata nequit tranquillari. Tibi O Deus — Tibi O 
 Pater Domini nostri ac Redemtoris lesu Christi 
 me meaque omnia qualiacunque submisse dico. 
 Pacem da. Kv§is zkzriffov. 
 
 2. — Whitby renders i(p f, Rom. v. 12, "in 
 whom,'* and his support of this interpretation 
 seems to me to be very well reasoned. ^^ For 
 that all have sin7ied" appears to furnish no illus- 
 tration of the sentence, that " sin entered into 
 the world, and death by sin," in consequence of 
 the offence of " one man." I do not see how 
 this difficulty is to be got over, if you abide by 
 the common version in our bibles. In the 
 margin, indeed, the phrase is rendered as Whitby 
 renders it, l(p u, in whom, and all is consequential 
 and clear. 
 
 On the 11th verse, 2 Cor. i. Whitby well ob- 
 serves, " In all his Epistles we have not one 
 petition of the like nature directed to any saint 
 departed ; whereas, had he thought them capa- 
 ble of hearing him, and their addresses more 
 effectual for the same ends, we may reasonably 
 think his zeal would have prompted him to put 
 
144 DIARY. 
 
 up his requests to them, and leave us some ex- 
 ample of this nature." 
 
 The prohibition of blood to Noah appears to 
 me as implying, at that time, the doctrine clearly 
 stated in Leviticus xvii, *' For the life of the 
 flesh is the blood, and I have given it to you 
 upon the altar, to make an atonement for your 
 souls ; — for it is the blood that maketh an atone- 
 ment for the soul." How far this accords with 
 the notion of the human origin of bloody sacri- 
 fice, is to be considered by those who hold this 
 notion. 
 
 5, Wednesday. — I am much more seriously 
 reduced than I had any notion of Perhaps the 
 voyage may do me some service. In judiciis 
 Tuae misericordiag sis memor oro, O Deus ! Con- 
 verte me, et convertar. 
 
 6. — My health appears fast breaking. May 
 He who alone can dispose the heart, fit me for 
 the world whither I believe myself to be ap- 
 proaching. I feel myself very weak to-day. 
 They tell me that such protracted debility has, 
 in most cases, attended the epidemic with which 
 I have been afflicted. Perhaps this may be so 
 with me. But, perhaps, likewise, it is rather a 
 token of approaching death. I would, with all 
 the devotion of my heart and soul, resign myself 
 to the will of God. I know that were I to be 
 judged as I deserve, my destiny would be mis- 
 erable indeed. But give me grace, O Lord, 
 
DIARY. 14.5 
 
 to cast myself on thy mercy in Christ Jesus ; 
 give me faith in him, and in his meritorious and 
 ever blessed atonement; strengthen my faith, 
 my hope, my charity ; and prepare me, by that 
 power wherewith thou alone disposest and rulest 
 the heart and spirit of man, to rejoice in my 
 deliverance from the sin and sorrow of the 
 world ; and make me meet for admission into 
 thy evei'lasting kingdom, for thy mercies* sake 
 in thy blessed Son, our Lord and Saviour. 
 
 7th. — I retire to my chamber this night, much 
 better in health than I have been since this 
 disorder first seized me. How are my thanks 
 and praises due to the ever gracious mercy of 
 God! Keep me, oh keep me mindful of thy 
 goodness, O Lord, and of the uncertainty of 
 life J and as thy goodness restores me to my 
 ordinary health, so may thy grace enable me to 
 employ the respite I'ightly, and to *' set my 
 house in order," that I may be ready to depart 
 when it is thy blessed will. Amen. 
 
 October 8th. — What a different meaning has 
 the word *' recovery" at twenty-five, and at 
 sixty. This complaint has shaken me to a de- 
 gree which I shall, perhaps, never recover. 
 
 9th. — The second lesson of this morning is 
 Mark xii. In the 11th verse the pronoun avT-/] 
 has puzzled some good Greek scholars ; accord- 
 ing to Greek construction it should be roOro. 
 It is, in fact, a Hebraism ; it is the Hebrew 
 fem. pronoun taken, without change, from Ps. 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
146 DIARY. 
 
 cxviii. 23. The second lesson this evening, 
 2 Cor. viii. contains a declaration applicable to 
 all our services, and suggesting comfort in the 
 midst of acknowledged unworthiness and in- 
 firmity, which nothing but the authority of 
 God's word could assure to us, and nothing but 
 his mercy communicate ; verse 12, " For if 
 there be first a willing mind, it is accepted, 
 according to that a man hath, and not according 
 to that he hath not." It is impossible to express 
 the satisfaction which such a sentence of Divine 
 Goodness yields to those who, the more they 
 meditate on themselves, the more they must be 
 convinced of their being " unprofitable stew- 
 ards." Yet, unprofitable as they are. He who 
 prepared! the heart hearkeneth unto them, and 
 estimates their service by the standard of his 
 own unutterable mercy. 
 
 I read part of Hooker's Sermon on Perpetuity 
 of Faith in the Elect. Hooker considers the 
 conduct of Abraham, Gen. xvii. 17, as a proof 
 of his doubting. I cannot think this. In the 
 first place, he is not reproved for it, as Sarah 
 was. In the next place, it appears evident 
 that the patriarch's emotion was exultation ; and 
 that it was not offensive to God is, I think, 
 clear, from the name given to the promised 
 child, a name commemorative of this laughing — 
 for such is the meaning of the word Isaac. 
 Surely there is no ground for Hooker's sugges- 
 tion. Abraham besought God's protection to 
 
DIARY. 11.7 
 
 Ishmael ; and that his prayer was not considered 
 as a mark of want of faith in the future ])irth of 
 Isaac, is proved, beyond controversy, by the 
 answer of the Ahnighty, *' As for Ishmael, I 
 have heard thee." Whatever w^ere the secret 
 sense of the prayer for Ishmael, it had no inter- 
 ference with Isaac, and in this light it was heard 
 and answered. Notwithstanding, then, the 
 authority of Hooker, I shall persist in denying 
 that Abraham laughed through want of faith. 
 On the contrary, I have always considered, and 
 shall continue to consider, this incident as a 
 decisive proof of Abraham's perfect confidence 
 in the fulfihnent of God's promise. 
 
 October 11th. — Trigesimus quintus, ex quo 
 nuptus fui, annus, jam expletus. Deo gratias 
 humillime ago propter omnia qua^ mihi per tot 
 annos feliciter evenerint. May thy chastise- 
 ments, O Lord, have also their right effect upon 
 me ; may, through thy grace, all things work 
 together to keep me in the path of eternal life, 
 for Christ's sake. Amen. 
 
 Mr Davison lays great weight on the silence 
 of sacred scripture respecting the origin of 
 animal sacrifice. I confess that I do not see 
 much in this argument. The annals of the first 
 years of man are very briefly written. Neither 
 does Moses give any account of the origin of 
 prayer ; yet I cannot but suppose that man was 
 instructed in the duty of prayer. That the 
 institution of the Sabbath is more fully told, is 
 
 K 2 
 
148 DIARY. 
 
 easily to be accounted for ; and I think any 
 reasoning from this j)ecuUarity against the divine 
 institution of sacrifice is ill grounded. Had 
 the day of religious worship been left to the 
 appointment of man, we know, by the example 
 of the heathen world, how uncertain this would 
 have been. Nothing that I find in Davison has 
 shaken my opinion of the divine origin of sacri- 
 fice. I do not know whether it has been re- 
 marked, but, as far as my recollection goes, I 
 am not aware that the savage nations of the 
 South seas and North America ever used prayer 
 to the great Spirit, even at the time when tliey 
 ofiered sacrifice. I remember no prayers, and 
 no account of any addresses to the Deity among 
 them. 
 
 11th. — At half-past five o'clock this even- 
 ing I parted from my beloved daughter. Em- 
 barked. 
 
 12th, Wednesday. — After a most noisy, and 
 consequently sleepless night, I rose to a good 
 day. The vessel not out of the Thames by 9 
 o'clock ; and, unhappily for us, the wind in the 
 east, portending some swell when we get to sea. 
 
 My dear suffers much from headache. 
 
 That mysterious influence of the mind on the 
 body is probably the cause of her illness. When- 
 ever her mind is much agitated, as it was yester- 
 day, she invariably suffers in this way. 
 
 13th, Thursday — Rose late after a most dis- 
 turbed night. I am very poorly indeed, and 
 
DIARY. IM) 
 
 suffer very great and continual pain. I am 
 afraid to take opiates ; yet from nothing else 
 do I obtain any relief. May He who chas- 
 tens, chasten in mercy, and graciously enable 
 me to apply his visitation to a right purpose. 
 
 14th October. — By the goodness of God I am 
 here restored to my own dwelling in peace and 
 thankfulness, after an absence of three months. 
 
 Now then, let me look back ; let me not for- 
 get the mercies which have attended me. Praise 
 the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his 
 benefits- I have made tw^o voyages ; and, amid 
 all the precautions of human sagacity, the result 
 of experience, the fruit of many sad disasters, let 
 me not be backward to acknowledge the good 
 and gracious Providences which protected us, 
 and the merciful hand that guided us to the 
 haven where we would be. My beloved 
 
 bore her journey well, and when that journey 
 was concluded, it was in the embraces of beloved 
 and tender friends. I was allowed, too, to find 
 my dear grand-children all well and flourishing, 
 and promising, under the Divine blessing, to be 
 a comfort and rejoicing to their pious parents. 
 I had every attention, when I was able to join 
 and enjoy society. I had every gratification 
 from hearing good and gracious sentiments, and 
 from the benevolent respect showed to myself. 
 
 From London I went to Bath ; and there the 
 aflectionate and tender greeting of my best and 
 oldest friend awaited me. Never shall I forjret 
 
150 DIARY. 
 
 her kind reception of me. Thence was my course 
 
 to to be greeted with pious love by 
 
 , and there in the bosom of affection, 
 
 again deHghted and honoured by Mrs B 's 
 
 society, did I pass my time ; weakened indeed, 
 and distressed by sickness and ahnost incessant 
 pain, but in the happy enjoyment of affections 
 which I consider as especially blest by God. . . 
 
 And have I had nothing to regret — no cloud 
 amid all this sunshine of the heart ? Yes, I have 
 had chastisements. But here, here do I declare, 
 that I earnestly desire to submit myself to the 
 will of God in all things ; and while I, less than 
 the least of his gracious mercies, desire to bless 
 and praise his holy name for all the good which 
 he hath made to overflow in my cup, I would 
 also ask of Him, who disposeth the heart of man, 
 to give me a new and clean heart, and to inspire 
 me witli the grace of resignation to His wise and 
 righteous dispensations, and to teach me to say 
 from the bottom of my heart with penitent Israel, 
 *' Nevertheless, Thou art just in all that is 
 brought upon me, for Thou hast done righteous- 
 ly, but I have done wickedly." Marvellous have 
 been and are the mercies of God, to one so 
 unworthy as myself, and, in the trials which He 
 may think it fitting to subject me to, may I never 
 cease to praise and bless his unwearied goodness. 
 His benefits more in number than I am able to 
 express, and to implore Him so to guide and 
 fashion my heart and mind by His holy counsel. 
 
DIARY. 151 
 
 that all things may work together for my good ; 
 " and that living and dying, in honour or in 
 dishonour, in good report or in evil report, I 
 may be so conducted by His Spirit, that, after 
 serving him here in humility and obedience, I 
 may be admitted hereafter to stand before His 
 throne in everlasting joy ! Amen and amen. 
 
 These and all my thanksgivings and supplica- 
 tions, my prayers and praises, my confessions 
 and resolutions, I humbly offer before the throne 
 of Almighty, and Everlasting, and Unchangeable 
 Grace, through the blessed and powerful inter- 
 cession of our holy Advocate and Propitiation, 
 Jesus Christ, the Son of God, our only and 
 most adorable Saviour and Redeemer. 
 
 October 16. — This evening I began my la- 
 bours in my interleaved Bible. 
 
 I retire to my room, imploring God's pardon 
 of my sins, his merciful sanctili cation of my 
 soul, and his gracious support under the moral and 
 physical trials to which I look daily ; and some 
 of which I daily endure in my poor infirm body. 
 Such is my constant prayer — to be prepared 
 for my last end. 
 
 October I7 I am very ill this day, and there 
 
 appears a threatening of something worse. God 
 preserve me ! 
 
 18 — Wrote an admonition to Sponsors, and 
 sent it to Moir, the printer. 
 
 19. — Read sermon in favour of the 
 
 Roman Catholics. I am perfectly satisfied with 
 
152 DIARY. 
 
 his acknowledgment that, if rehgioiis errors tend 
 to make men worse members of the state, they 
 are fair objects for human laws and human 
 interference. He grants here all that can be 
 desired ; and he will not pretend that they who 
 uphold the Pope's supremacy, and are bound by 
 allegiance to him, can offer the same security 
 for their good conduct as members of the state 
 with their Protestant fellow-subjects. In grant- 
 ing what he does, he takes off the force of all his 
 own arguments. 
 
 I pray God to bless every means employed 
 for the restoring my health. But his holy will 
 be done ! 
 
 Pursued my work in the interleaved Bible. 
 It is really melancholy to notice the absurd and 
 mean fictions of Deists against the truth. One 
 set of them pretend that Moses copied the 
 old Greek writers, the earliest of whom did 
 not write till about five hundred years after the 
 death of Moses. 
 
 22d. — This day has begun in pain. Mr 
 
 preached for me. A most melancholy event has 
 taken place ; the loss of a steam vessel on the 
 Clyde, full of passengers, of whom the greater 
 
 number perished. Among them Mr H. R , 
 
 son of Mr P. R , who has been a member 
 
 of my congregation thirty-one years. A young 
 man of the name of M'Alister is among the suf- 
 ferers. He had made great exertions to obtain a 
 
DIARY. 1.53 
 
 passage on board the vessel ! Quam ccecce 
 mentes hominum. 
 
 Began a letter to my dearest W ■, but pain, 
 
 severe and continual, obliged me to stop. Dr 
 
 R 's visit is desirable, as the prosperous gale 
 
 vuvTTiaiv lihhoijAvoKri. 
 
 Dr R found me incapable of chirurgical 
 
 relief, and left me to pursue the course he had 
 recommended, in hopes that the operation of 
 nature would be my friend, — my chastener and 
 therein my friend, — this operation was through 
 the whole of a night of almost agony. Give me 
 patience and submission, O Lord, for thy mer- 
 cies' sake ! 
 
 25, Tuesday My pain is still great : but, I 
 
 thank God, tolerable, and my relief cannot, I 
 think, be far distant. May it be accompanied 
 with Divine grace to make a right use of it. 
 Mrs Capt. D died yesterday morning. 
 
 " Quando ad me veniet ?" 
 
 By the mercy of God, about nine this evening 
 my distresses were suddenly, in great and chief 
 part, relieved, and 1 retired to my bed, full of 
 grateful thanksgivings, to enjoy repose which I 
 had not known so long. Oh ! that the troubles 
 of my mind could be as speedily repaired, — but I 
 bow in submission, — and, O blessed and holy 
 Lord, let thy chastening be for my eternal good ! 
 
 26, Wednesday. — The relief increased through 
 the night, and I am now perfectly at ease. 
 
154f DIARY. 
 
 Breve, quidem, solatium istiid. Placuit Deo, 
 me iterum morbo isto, quo, anno ab hoc tertio, 
 laboravi, afficere. Fiat voluntas ejus ! 
 
 October 27 The remains of Mr H. T. R 
 
 were interred this day. I wrote a letter to his 
 mother, and offered to visit her, if she wished 
 me to do so. 
 
 28, Friday. — Received a very kind letter from 
 Mr R. R accepting my proposed visit to- 
 morrow. The conduct of his mother and himself 
 under this severe trial is beyond all praise. May 
 it be imitated! Endeavoured to compile a prayer 
 for their service. 
 
 29, Saturday. — Began the duties of the day 
 
 with a visit to Mrs P. R and her worthy 
 
 son. They support their affliction, through the 
 grace of God, most admirably. 
 
 30, Twenty-second Sunday after Trinity. — 
 Preached in the forenoon, St James iv. 14. 
 
 In that passage of the iv. Philippians, the 
 second lesson of this evening, in which St Paul 
 declares his power as proceeding from Christ 
 alone, he gives a comfort and assurance to prayer 
 which is not to be expressed. Above all things 
 do I desire that the merciful and gracious Father 
 of the Lord Jesus Christ would grant to me this 
 assurance — this fulness of faith, wherein I might 
 " cast all my care upon God." Oh God, hear 
 and answer my prayer ! 
 
 November 1. — For these two evenings past I 
 have read to my dear a sermon of Orton's 
 
DIARY. 155 
 
 on the duties and comforts of the aged. I be- 
 seech, deeply and earnestly beseech of Almighty 
 God to grant that I may not, in the midst of all 
 my advantages, become the victim of passive im- 
 pressions. I am more afraid of this, than of 
 almost any thing, — spiritual indolence I dread 
 above every thing. Preserve me from it, O 
 blessed Lord, for the sake of Jesus Christ ! 
 
 November 2. — I began a letter to my beloved 
 Mrs F B on the 5th ch. of 2d Corin- 
 thians, — that chapter which contains a summary 
 of our hopes, and duties, and obligations to the 
 inestimable love of God, as manifested in our re- 
 conciliation to Him through our Lord and Saviour 
 Jesus Christ. This portion of sacred Scripture 
 is my joy and comfort. May I ponder over it, 
 and pray over it, and, by the blessed influence of 
 God's Holy Spirit, be taught all I owe to my 
 Redeemer, and what is my bounden duty towards 
 him, and may the "love of Christ really constrain 
 me." May I be accepted in him, and may, by 
 God's grace, the fruits of justification in him 
 show themselves in the improvement of my heart 
 and life ! Exaudi, Deus, et precibus meis benigne 
 responde. 
 
 November 2 — It is impossible for me to ex- 
 press what I owe to the great mercy of Almighty 
 God, in my restoration to a portion of ease and 
 comfort to which I have been a stranger for so 
 many years. O may my devotion be such as it 
 ought to be, through the grace of God iii Jesus 
 Christ. Amen- 
 
16G DIARY. 
 
 3, Thursday -The night was very heavy with 
 
 me. O my God, have mercy on me, after thy 
 great goodness, according to the multitude of 
 thy mercies, do away mine offences ! I do trust 
 in that mercy which never faileth them who 
 humbly ask it, that comfort will break forth upon 
 me for His sake who died for sinners. For His 
 sake, hear my prayer, O God, and be merciful 
 unto me. Amen. 
 
 I began my work this day with my usual por- 
 tion of my sermon, and then I read the xv. of 
 St Luke, as a preparation for the prayer whicli 
 I offered before God, — and may it be accepted. 
 
 November 4 Read Sherlock's admirable ser- 
 mons on Phil. ii. 6. They are beyond my praise. 
 
 5, Saturday " Man returneth to his dust, 
 
 and then all his thoughts perish." This is to 
 be understood of man as a creature formed out 
 of the dust of the earth ; and of the thoughts 
 which rise no higher, and are employed solely 
 in things of earth : and in this axiom, thus ex- 
 plained, there is divine truth, every day enforced 
 by awful experience. But the same man is also, 
 through Christ, an immortal being ; there is in 
 his frame a soul which is destined to live in 
 happiness or misery for ever, and *' the thoughts 
 of the soul, and of all that concerns its better 
 nature, do not perish." The contrast is as in- 
 structive as it is awful. 
 
 6, Twenty-third Sunday after Trinity. — I read 
 last night to Orton's 6th sermon on Isaiah 
 
DIARY. 157 
 
 xlvi. 4. This is by far the most pleasing and 
 useful of the discourses which I have read 
 hitherto ; the doctrine is stated with great clear- 
 ness, and its application remarkably well brought 
 out. In one criticism he appears to be mis- 
 taken. The Hebrew word Vno is of a much 
 stronger signification than ii'^f^ the word which 
 follows : and the position of this first word is 
 not usual, for it generally follows K12/3 as import- 
 ing a greater exertion than implied in this latter 
 word. Such, at least, is the judgment of Park- 
 hurst. 
 
 7, Monday. — Set out for Glasgow. 
 
 8, Tuesday Anxietas me ubique sequitur. 
 
 O Deus, mihi solatium praebe : Tu solus animum 
 reparare potes, Tu solus remedium solicitudinis 
 praebere. Quae juxta voluntatem Tuam humiliter 
 rogo, benigne imperti. Non quae mundus dat 
 quaero, sed quae amor tuus, quae benignitas tua 
 in Christo fidentibus impertiat ea desidero. Non 
 pompam, nee opes, nee mihi regna peto, sed 
 curarum quae mentem excruciant requiem ; sed 
 in Te solatium ; sed spes favoris Tui per Do- 
 minum nostrum lesum Christum. Amen. A 
 precibus meis aurem Tuam ne avertas. 
 
 10. — I saw to-day a very good specimen fof 
 Iambic and Anapaestic verses from Milton's Co- 
 mus. I was not quite satisfied with the word «a- 
 mx>ii in the version of the song " sweet echo," &c. 
 for Milton's word " resounding." I always have 
 understood the word zwmx^ as conveying the 
 
158 DIARY. 
 
 idea of a tinkling sound. Homer uses it to ex- 
 press the sound of a brazen helmet struck by 
 missiles, or trampled on by horses, — and the noise 
 caused by the feet of mules ; but on no occasion 
 does he apply it as a term of any dignity, if I 
 may so express myself: yet in the Hymn to 
 Apollo, V. 184, we have, 
 
 roio Ss <po^|£t/y| 
 
 where the sound is musical, and so far agrees 
 with the line, 
 
 " And give resounding gi*ace to all heaven's harmonies." 
 
 Pindar, too, has Kuvocy^ou uvkuv. 
 
 12 When the Psalmist puts the question — 
 
 *' Who will show us any good ?" his answer is, 
 " Lord, lift thou up the light of thy countenance 
 upon us." Without the favour of God, which, 
 to refer to the beautiful figure of the original, 
 is reflected by the mirror of a good conscience, 
 there can be no happiness. 
 
 16. — Read sermon Authors on 
 
 subjects such as these should labour to write 
 well and vigorously. The common place re- 
 marks which all have heard, and all can suggest 
 to themselves, have no effect. The natural in- 
 clination to dulness on spiritual subjects should 
 not be cultivated by a writer. He is a suicide, 
 and destroys himself, and robs himself of the 
 fruit of all his labours ; besides, he makes or- 
 dinary readers afraid of opening good books, 
 lest they should find all as dull as his. 
 
DIARY. 1.59 
 
 17, Thursday. — In the last accounts from 
 India, there is a most melancholy return of the 
 number of women burned on the funeral pile 
 of their husbands, in the immediate neighbour- 
 hood of Calcutta ; in the immediate neighbour- 
 hood, that is, of the seat of the British Govern- 
 ment. This is most shocking. That if proper 
 exertions were made, this wicked practice might 
 be put down, cannot be doubted. One thing 
 seems evident, that few of these poor women 
 are voluntary sufferers : were no force allowed 
 to bring them to the pile, perhaps not one in 
 twenty would burn herself. In the southern 
 parts of India, this appears to be the case. The 
 words of Christ occur to the mind, IzsTvog kv^^mto- 
 zrovog tjv kic k^y/iq. — St John viii. 44. 
 
 19, Saturday. — St John xi. 48. The holy 
 Scriptures delineate with fidelity the weakness of 
 our fallen nature. The apprehensions of the 
 Jews here expressed, are, in other words, the 
 same which induce worldly persons, at all times, 
 to stifle their convictions, lest the open profes- 
 sion and practice of the faith should injure 
 present interests. May I learn from this true 
 picture of the dispositions which belong to me, 
 as a fallen creature, — and which can be cor- 
 rected only by the grace of God ! I read the 
 last of Orton's sermons to my family. It is un- 
 doubtedly the best in the book. The subject 
 animated the good and pious author, and he 
 writes with more vigour and life than in any of 
 
1 60 DIARY. 
 
 his former sermons. The subject, indeed, is 
 animating. The hopes of eternal blessedness 
 gild the evening of life, and deprive the transi- 
 tory troubles of the present time of their 
 influence to disturb and vex the mind. But 
 who shall be found meet to partake in the rest 
 of the prophet, and the lot of God's saints ? 
 Who are they whose names are indeed written 
 in the book of life ? 
 
 20, Twenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity. — What 
 a consoling truth is declared to us in the Epistle 
 this day : " Jehovah, our righteousness." Be- 
 sides the assurance that He is the "Lamb of 
 God, which taketh away the sin of the world," 
 here it is expressly asserted that the Redeemer 
 is Jehovah our righteousness, i3pi^ mn\ 
 
 The boldest Socinian will not deny that this 
 is the designation of the Messiah ; neither can 
 he deny that to the Messiah is here given the 
 incommunicable name of God. 
 
 Read 's Sermon on Heavenly-minded- 
 
 ness, a very poor and tasteless performance, 
 with none of those high and elevated views of 
 spiritual life which I expected from him ; 
 nothing but mere common-place — telling what 
 all know, that this world disappoints, and that 
 the world to come will not do so. I feel, on 
 such occasions, as Johnson describes himself 
 to have felt when his mother made him read a 
 chapter of the Whole Duty of Man. See Bos- 
 well's Life of Johnson. 
 
DIARY. lOl 
 
 26, Saturday 1 was gratified this day with 
 
 a most kind letter from my dearest friend, Mrs 
 F B . I pray Ahnighty God to sup- 
 port this pious servant under her present trial, 
 and to order all for her everlasting good, 
 through Jesus Christ. Amen. 
 
 November 29th. — Begun a letter to Mrs 
 B on 1 Cor. iii. 12—15. 
 
 December 4. — Mr did the afternoon 
 
 duty at St John's Chapel, and preached on 
 repentance from St Matth. iii. 2. By the way 
 I must observe, for the subject occurred to my 
 reflection just at this moment, by a very evident 
 association, that the scene of the Baptist's edu- 
 cation, and of his first ministry, was "the 
 wilderness of Judea ;" but this wilderness was 
 not, according to the judgment of the excellent 
 Dr Middleton, the scene of our blessed Lord's 
 temptation, as it is generally supposed to have 
 been. Against this notion the learned Bishop 
 of Calcutta argues with great force ; and states 
 his own opinion, that our Lord was transported 
 "by the Spirit" into the great desert wherein 
 the Israelites wandered for forty years. If this 
 conjecture be rightly founded, the jilace in which 
 the temptation was, in part, exercised by Satan, 
 gave a peculiar effect to the words quoted by 
 our Lord from the book of Deuteronomy, — words 
 conceived and first pronounced in the very 
 wilderness where Jesus then was. We cannot 
 imagine that the desert of Judea was the place, 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
I(i2 DIARY. 
 
 for tliere is no part of it tliat is not within a 
 short distance of inhabited villages or towns. 
 That the temptation was a real transaction, and 
 not a vision^ as some have conceived, is, I think, 
 evident from the whole narration, the authority 
 of which, it was well observed to me by Dr 
 Falconer of Bath, is the more irrefragable, as 
 the narration must have been communicated by 
 our Lord himself to his disciples, or by the 
 immediate inspiration of the Holy Ghost. When- 
 ever we read the history, let us also bless 
 Almighty God for the wonderful and merciful 
 dispensation, through which his only begotten 
 Son took our nature upon Him ; for, in that he 
 himself hath suffered, being tempted, He is able 
 also to succour them that are tempted. 
 
 December 11. — I think it is to be regretted 
 that our excellent translators of the Holy Bible 
 had not given to the words " ovhh ya^ ifAocvroj avv- 
 oiloc" 1 Cor. iv. 4. the real meaning which they 
 bear in Greek. There is nothing uncommon in 
 the phrase, " I am not conscious to myself of 
 any thing," and had this plain version been used, 
 no one would have ever complained of obscurity ; 
 and yet I have been often asked the meaning of 
 this passage, which occurs in the epistles of this 
 day, and which, therefore, I noted at this time. 
 
 December 12. — I began a sermon on the 
 beautiful words of Isaiah, xl. 12. Such occupa- 
 tions are soothing and delightful, and I like not 
 
DIARY. 163 
 
 to be called from them to engage in the useless 
 contests generated by ungoverned temper. 
 
 December 13, Tuesday. — The exposition of 
 Holy Scripture is one of the most arduous duties 
 of the " stewards of the mysteries of God," and 
 in the discharge of it, I beseech of Almighty 
 God to direct me, while I proceed with " fear 
 and trembling." I do not know any thing that 
 has distressed me more than the perfect air of 
 ease and indifference, in the German theologians, 
 who treat the word of God, as they would treat 
 the word of fallible and imperfect man. 
 
 Sir James Balfour, in his Annals of Scotland, 
 relates that the day before his murder, Charles I. 
 looking at his own picture at Whitehall, over 
 which was written " Carolus Rex," observed that 
 this anagram of his name was presently come 
 into his thoughts, namely, " Cras ero lux," 
 " which," added he, in that spirit of piety which 
 was his comfort and support in all his distresses, 
 " I hope, through the mercy of my blessed Saviour 
 Jesus Christ, before the morrow at this time, shall 
 be assuredly verified in me a miserable sinner." 
 This anecdote carries internal evidence of its 
 own truth. 
 
 December 14 The poor woman Mrs 
 
 called. Her tone and language are the most dis- 
 tressing to my ear that I have ever encountered. 
 It is singular, that such a noise, for I can call it 
 no other, remains on the sensorium much longer 
 than an agreeable sound. " Aiires vaporatJii 
 
 L 2 
 
l64 DIARY. 
 
 sunt quasi tintinnabulo." The poor woman has 
 embarked in lodging letting, and expects me to 
 recommend lodgers. I would not lodge in a 
 house where, as Fergus M'lvor says, " her 
 counter tenor might be heard every morning ad- 
 monishing her servants." 
 
 December 18. — The lower orders like sermons 
 which contain something above their comprehen- 
 sion. To awaken their attention, they must be 
 convinced that their pastor knows something 
 which they do not know. In Scotland, the lower 
 orders are convinced that they understand the 
 Bible, because it is in English ! I have heard of" 
 a minister who used to regale his hearers with 
 the original Greek, as he called it j but not 
 knowing a word of Greek, he repeated a sentence 
 of Gaelic. It was in the Lowlands : and Gaelic 
 was Greek to them. This j)ious fraud, as he 
 called it, had established his character as a learned 
 man, and an excellent preacher. A Highland 
 gentleman who accidentally was in his church, 
 complimented him in the vestry on his excellent 
 Gaelic. " O sir," said the parson, " I beg you 
 will not betray me ; for my people would leave 
 me at once, if they thought I was not more 
 knowing than themselves." 
 
 December 20. — Wrote to and sent him a 
 
 crust, namely, the inscription at Padua, from 
 Evelyn's memoirs. If can suggest an emen- 
 dation which shall extort sense from the first line, 
 he will display no little sagacity. 
 
DIARY. 165 
 
 " Inclytus Antenor patriam vox nisa quietem." &c. &c. 
 
 I have tried till I aiii tired, and can do no- 
 thing with it. 
 
 Difficilem aliquando provinciam mihi imposi- 
 tam sentio ; in te, O Deus, in te solo est solici- 
 tudinis et curae remedium. Preces meas benigne 
 exaudi, des mihi vires qiias non habeo nisi ex 
 misericordia tua. Moerorem mitiga — spei frus- 
 trationem, severam scilicet et acerbam, tolera- 
 biliorem redde, et praecipue te oro, gratum in nie 
 efficias animum, cum omnia quae in me cumu- 
 lasti beneficia, recenseo. Nil sum sine beneiicio 
 tuo, nee vires, nee virtutem, nee scientiam quam- 
 libet nisi ex abundantia tua possideo ! ! 
 
 22, Thursday. — Read St Paul's epistle to the 
 Colossians, carefully, twice over, with occasional 
 reference to the Greek. Dr Middleton thinks 
 that the word 'Tr^oororoH.oi; may be translated, " be- 
 gotten before all creatures," — it is evident that 
 the version in our Bibles does not correspond 
 
 with the assertion of the next verses. Mr 
 
 resolves it into a Hellenism. I like Dr Middle- 
 ton's proposal much better. 
 
 23. — Read the ex. Psalm critically in He- 
 brew. Some of Horsley's version and notes please 
 me much. The last verse seems to me very 
 difficult. That the Psalm is to be understood 
 of the Messiah is declared on the highest au- 
 thority, and I am surprised at Horsley's giving, on 
 this point, the authority of Jewish Rabbles only. 
 In the last verse, the hrook may have one of two 
 
166 DIARY. 
 
 meanings. The general figurative sense of the 
 term is, however, *' refreshment," rather than 
 *' sufferings or sorrows," and I should be mucli 
 inclined to interpret it of the triumphant progress 
 of the Messiah according to the prophecy in 
 Psalm xlv. 5. and Revelations vi. ^. If the no- 
 tion of suffering is the right sense, the verse is 
 well explained by the last part of the prophecy 
 in the liii. chapter of Isaiah. 
 
 24, Saturday. — Read critically in the Hebrew, 
 the cxvi. and cxvii. Psalms. In Bishop Horsley's 
 opinion the last Psalm is only an introduction to 
 the cxviii. The division and arrangement of the 
 Psalms, in this portion of the Psalter, in the Sep- 
 tuagint differ considerably from the Hebrew. 
 I confess that in the cxvi. Psalm, I do not see 
 the connection of the fifteenth verse with the 
 context. Horsley says nothing of the verse. It is 
 common with commentators to omit any inter- 
 pretation of obscure parts, and load the reader 
 with illustrations and explanations of those pas- 
 sages which he can comprehend without their 
 learned aid, 
 
 December 26, St Stephen's day, Monday. — 
 In the second lesson this morning our transla- 
 tors have made an error in rendering the 
 Greek gerund, iTcazuaz rovg -rarg^a? i^(jbcov, rov 
 'TTOiiiv sx.'^&rci ra fo^i<p'/i avrcjv, elg to [jutj Zaoyovda&cn^ — 
 instead of our version of this place, *' He evil- 
 intreated our fathers, so that they cast out their 
 children to the end that they might not Hve," it 
 
DIARY. Kjy 
 
 should be, " He evil-intreated our fathers, by 
 causing their children to be exposed" Sec. This 
 is one of a few very rare instances of incorrect- 
 ness in this noble version of the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 27, Tuesday, St John the Evangelist. — This day 
 
 I ordained a deacon. I humbly pray God 
 
 that He may bless His servant, and enable him 
 by His grace to fulfil the duties of his ministry to 
 the glory of God, and his own salvation. 
 
 28, Wednesday. — Oravi ut Deus in miseri- 
 cordia ejus mihi impertiat gratiam, ut patienter 
 et submisse omnia quae ad me pertineant in manus 
 ejus tradam. Animus mens severo sub onere 
 laborat. 
 
 I passed an hour or two this forenoon over 
 
 metrical version of the Psalms. The notes are 
 the most valuable part of the publication : of the 
 poetry I cannot say much. It has added another 
 to the many proofs of tlie difficulty of such an 
 undertaking, and fornished another confirmation 
 of Dr Johnson's remarks on the subject of devo- 
 tional poetry in his Life of Milton. 
 
 1826, Jan. 1. — By the goodness of Almighty 
 God, I am in better health at the opening of 
 this new year, than I was at the same time in 
 the last year. May His mercy preserve me and 
 mine through the time to come, for Christ's 
 sake! 
 
 This day concludes the pleasing visit which my 
 
 dear D and C have paid us. Among 
 
 the numberless subjects of gratitude which I 
 
168 DIARY. 
 
 feel to God, the prosperity and affection of my 
 beloved children is one of the greatest in value 
 and degree. I never see any of them without 
 blessing God for his continued goodness in pre- 
 serving to me this subject of joy, on which I 
 rest with continual and increasing satisfaction. 
 4. — Received a letter from Mrs F B . 
 
 She is, I think, drawing near the end of her 
 pious and holy life. May the God whom she 
 has served support her under the trials of sick- 
 ness and debility, and comfort her last hour, 
 with that consolation which cometh from him 
 alone ! There is another for whom I pray, that 
 under the peculiar and distressing weight of the 
 visitation of Divine Providence, he may be 
 enabled to receive the trial with humility and 
 resignation, — that he may look up to the only 
 source of strength and comfort, and that his 
 prayers may be heard by Him who doth not 
 afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men. 
 
 The famous text. Job xix. 25, 26, 27, is thus : 
 I know my Redeemer liveth. "'n •'Vk:i tij^T' •'3Ki 
 
 And hereafter on the earth "> ^^^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^^^^ 
 
 he shall rise up. J 
 
 And hereafter my skin shall ") 
 
 , . ^ , -, -, r "**^ ""^P^ ^^^ '^'^**'' 
 
 cover this [my body. J J 
 And from my flesh I shall -\ 
 
 behold Him who was V mVi^ hthk nti'DQi 
 
 made a curse [for me.] J 
 Whom I shall behold for 
 
 myself and not a stranger, 
 
 
DIARY. U)[) 
 
 [Though] my entrails be "J 
 
 consumed within my bo- V • "'pnn 'TT'V:: ^b^ 
 
 som. -^ 
 
 In our authorized version the second of these 
 verses is much altered. " And although after my 
 skin ivorms destroy this body, yet in my flesh 
 shall I see God." The Greek version of the LXX. 
 is here different from our English translation, 
 and differs from the original text in a manner 
 which appears very unaccountable. The words 
 in italics are inserted in the translation in the bi- 
 ble. But for their discrepancy from the original it 
 is not easy to give a reason : the word isp3 is 
 rendered "destroy" — it means to "encompass." 
 
 Jan. 6. — Sic ego secretis possira bene vivere sylvis 
 Quo nulla humano sit via trita pede: 
 Tu mihi curarum requies, tu nocte vel atra 
 Lumen, et in solis Tu mihi turba locis. 
 
 Tibidlus iv. 13. 
 
 Translated by the Rev. J. Newton. — CeciVs Life. 
 
 The last of the English lines is awkward ; 
 the dactyl at the close is unpleasant to the ear. 
 The original lines are beautiful. 
 
 7, Saturday. — During a sleepless night, I en- 
 deavoured to throw together a few thoughts on 
 the verses of Tibullus : 
 
 IMITATED FROM TIBULLUS. 
 
 Thou ai't my soul's best strength, my God ! 
 Sustained by thee, I've safely trod 
 On Afric's burning shore ; 
 
170 DIARY. 
 
 Where liuman footstep ne'er lias heen. 
 And nought but savage life is seen, — 
 Nought heard but ocean's roar. 
 
 By Thee illumed, the desert wild 
 
 With peace and heavenly joy has smiled, — 
 
 No solitude was there. 
 For thou art every whei-e ; thy hand 
 Hath led me in this distant land 
 
 With all a shepherd's care. 
 
 W^hat though the pathless waste I tread, 
 Where no kind greeting bids me speed, 
 
 And far from man's abode, 
 My heart, my tongue I can employ 
 In prayer, in praise, — e'en here enjoy 
 
 Communion with my God ! 
 
 11.— I passed a night of tremendous suffering. 
 But I humbly commit myself unto thee, O God, 
 to dispose of me as thou thinkest fitting, and 
 make me resigned to all thy dispensations for 
 Christ's sake ! 
 
 15, Second Sunday after Epiphany. — I was 
 obliged to stay at home. May the Almighty, 
 in his great mercy, hear the supphcations whicli 
 I offered, and the confessions which I made, 
 and pardon my offences, and strengthen me 
 under the trials I meet with, for Jesus Christ's 
 sake ! pK. 
 
 19 — Ps. liii. 5. DnV iV^k ^nr "-Vdi* " Eating 
 up my people as they ivould eat bread." This 
 is the authorized version. The LXX. is the same. 
 I can account for this only from the Athnach, 
 
DIARY. 171 
 
 which, in the pointed Hebrew, is placed under 
 □nV. This is said by Frey to be equivalent to 
 a colon. In the unpointed Hebrew it might 
 be read, " Devourers of my people, they eat 
 bread, they call not upon God." That is, 
 they receive God's blessings in their daily sup- 
 port, but they do not acknowledge their depen- 
 dence by prayer. It is very evident that our 
 translators read with points ; and one of the 
 best means of learning the value of the points, 
 is by comparing the original Hebrew proper 
 names with the translation. In oiu' English 
 version "'Vni* is considered as the plural masculine 
 of the participle Benoni of hjii, to devour. 
 Mudge considers it as the nom. plur. of a de- 
 rived substantive, V3>«, a devower. 
 
 25, Wednesday, — Conversion of St Paul. 
 How much is it to be lamented that modern 
 devotion is so cold that it is useless to open our 
 chapels on a saint's day ! 
 
 26. — Gracious and most merciful God, who 
 ordainest all things in wisdom and goodness, 
 enable me, I humbly implore thee, to support 
 this heavy trial, and to improve it, by thy blessed 
 help, to good. Thou knowest what is best for 
 me ; and bitter as the visitation is, and hard to 
 be supported by my weakness, yet will I cast 
 all my care on thee ; and in the faith of thine 
 ever blessed Son, I will hope to be enabled to 
 look forward to that hour w^hich shall relieve me 
 from the sufferings of this state : only render 
 
172 DIARY. 
 
 these, O Lord, available to my salvation, through 
 thy Son, our Lord and Mediator, Jesus Christ. 
 Amen. 
 
 February 7^ — Nehemiah ix. 23. A passage of 
 the most valuable application. It is the proper 
 tribute of truth and humility for the suffering 
 offender to acknowledge the justice of his 
 punishment; and his proper conduct is such 
 resignation, — a conviction of the righteous deal- 
 ing of God, and of his own unworthiness. 
 
 It is delightful to observe the ameliorating, 
 soothing effects of Christian piety and charity in 
 
 the last words of such a man as Baxter. E 
 
 and I talked about him a good deal at dinner 
 to-day. 
 
 12. — Psalm li. I7. Read Cowper's sermon on 
 this text to my family. No passage of Holy 
 Scripture is more calculated to bring us into a 
 proper frame for devotion, and to comfort us 
 during its offices. Like a similar passage in the 
 xxxi. Psalm, ver. 11, it gives us a view of Divine 
 goodness most consoling. How different is the 
 'mercy of God from that of man I To obtain the 
 favour of an offended fellow-worm of the earth, 
 one would not begin by a deep confession of 
 unworthiness of the mercy that is sought. But 
 the Holy Ghost instructed David to utter the 
 declaration above, — to say, as in the xxv. Psalm, 
 "Be merciful unto my sin, for it is great;" and 
 the Apostle says, "God commendeth [(ry^/o-r^jo-/, 
 establishes, confirms] his mercy toward us, in 
 
DIARY. 173 
 
 that, ivhile we were sinners, Christ died for us." 
 — Rom. V. 8. 
 
 13. — Faxis Deus, Pater Domini nostri lesu 
 Christi ut gratiae ejus donis qua minima parte 
 fruar ; ut animi mei solicitudini, atque molestis- 
 simse aegritudini remedium adhibeatur. Consihi 
 inops — miser peccator — immo in lesu Christi me- 
 ntis atque intercessione solam curarum requiem 
 summopere quserens, favorem denique assequar ! 
 O Tu, Divine Redemtor, qui tristitiam meam 
 penitus cognoscis, sis mihi propitius obsecro! 
 Pro me intercedas. Amen. 
 
 Psahn cxxxix. ver. 3. nn]DDn ^:3-n Vd I shall 
 henceforward make these words the motto of my 
 Diary. God grant that it may avail me ! 
 
 27. — The contrast between Southey's delicious 
 
 style and is most striking. I am glad to see 
 
 that Southey's answer to the charges of Mr But- 
 ler is published. The cause of our excellent 
 Church will gain much from the exertions of 
 such an advocate. 
 
 March 5. — Ex profundo clamavi! ad Te, Deus 
 optime, Pater Domini nostri Jesu Christi, ad Te 
 me verto. Condona meis peccatis — refugium mi- 
 hi prsebe — kvoe^itdvaiv — miserrimus sum, mei mis- 
 erearis — ut aliquando e tenebris in lucem evadam 
 — Nihil, sane, nisi punitionem mereor — attamen, 
 resipiscentem exaudi, Deus, atque per Dominum 
 nostrum et Salvatorem, propitius esto mihi. In 
 Te confido. )^>< 
 
 6. — My beloved is to set out this day from 
 
174 DIARY. 
 
 on her journey hither. May tlie blessing 
 
 and protection of the Ahnighty be with her, and 
 lier dear child, — and may they reach us safely ! 
 
 8. — Received a visit from the Rev. Mr Daly 
 from Dublin ; he convinced me of the great 
 importance of the Irish schools in which the 
 children are taught to read the Scriptures in 
 their native tongue. Nothing will overcome the 
 Romish influence so much as the knowledge of 
 Holy Scripture. This, every day's experience 
 decidedly proves. 
 
 18. — Held my general annual confirmation, and 
 confirmed eighty one persons. 
 
 22. — The Rev. Wm Kell, minister of St An- 
 drew's Chapel, Kelso, visited me for the purpose 
 of subscribing the Canons, and uniting himself, 
 and his congregation, with their full approbation, 
 to the communion of the Scottish Episcopal 
 Cliurch. I pray Almighty God to bless this act 
 of the Pastor and his flock, and may this union 
 become the instrument and channel of many 
 spiritual blessings to them, for the sake of the 
 Holy Head of this church. 
 
 23. — After I was in bed, I received a letter 
 
 from Mr ; he is in deep affliction at the 
 
 news of the death of his son, a most truly valua- 
 ble young man. 
 
 24, Good Friday. — Afflicted Mr call- 
 ed on me at 1 to-day. We agreed that the me- 
 lancholy disclosure should be delayed till after 
 the second service at the chapel. I attended 
 
DIARY. 175 
 
 chapel of course, in the forenoon. Communi- 
 cants 120. In the afternoon, I dehvered the 
 sixth P. W, lecture ; and after service made my 
 
 purposed visit to Mrs a most trying duty it 
 
 was, but I trust in the goodness of Him who smit- 
 eth to support his servants under their affliction. 
 
 25. — Delivered the last P. W. lecture. After 
 
 service I went to Mrs and prayed with the 
 
 afflicted family. I hope that they received some 
 
 comfort. Began a letter to on 1 John v. 
 
 16, 17, a very difficult passage. — At two o'clock 
 met a few young persons in the chapel, and dis- 
 coursed to them on the service of the holy com- 
 munion. 
 
 28, Easter Tuesday This day closes the du- 
 ties of this holy season, and I bless and praise 
 God for his great goodness in enabling me to 
 perform them without interruption or incon- 
 venience. 
 
 I had to-day a very long and serious con- 
 versation with Mr , the minister of the 
 
 Independent chapel in . I lent him Bishop 
 
 Hall on Episcopacy. 
 
 April 1. — I never prayed more earnestly for 
 peace and support than 1 did this evening. May 
 the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ in great 
 goodness hear me, and have mercy upon me! 
 Indeed I could use the supplication of the 
 Psalmist, mu tiiVt •'d Tim Vx nn-'ti'pn. 
 
 But what an inestimable blessing is it, that 
 there is a Friend who changeth not, " who giveth 
 
176 DIARY. 
 
 liberally and upbraideth not." — Give me, O Lord, 
 for the sake of Jesus Christ our Saviour, that 
 true faith which resteth on thee, in which thy 
 servants cast all their care on thee ! 
 
 2, First Sunday after Easter. — Obliged to 
 remain at home. But I humbly implore that 
 the prayers which I offered in secret may be 
 heard, and after God's good pleasure answered. 
 
 13. — Dined at Lady 's. Met with Mr 
 
 Baron there. After dinner we were talking 
 
 about 's autobiography, and the Baron re- 
 marked, that no man could talk five minutes 
 of himself without saying something which he 
 might as well not have said. 
 
 21. — Went to Mrs , and prayed with her, 
 
 and read a part of the v. chap, of St John to her, 
 and expounded it. 
 
 May 4. — Audi, Deus optime. Pater Domini 
 nostri lesu Christi, audi preces meas indignas 
 omnino ; audi tamen non propter mea merita, 
 sed propter benevolentiam tuam in lesu Christo. 
 
 8. — Visited , who appears to be very evi- 
 dently drawing to her end. May the presence 
 and support of God's Holy Spirit be with her! 
 But, gracious Father of mercies, may the healthy 
 and the active take warning, and labour to be 
 ready when the dread hour cometh! There is 
 a state which is neither life nor utter insensi- 
 bility, which is indeed to be deprecated, — when 
 the slumberer cannot be roused to recollection ; 
 and prayer is used at the bed-side of the un- 
 
DIARY. 177 
 
 heeding patient ; and the most awful of all hours 
 is stealing on without notice. 
 
 20. — I have written again the motto * from the 
 Psalms. O Lord, who thus recordest in thy book 
 all the ways of men, look mercifully on me, and 
 through the aid and guidance of thy Holy Spirit, 
 vouchsafe that **my ways" may be made accept- 
 able before thee, for Christ's sake. Amen. 
 
 25. — Rose after a good night, as good nights 
 are with me, very thankful for the mercies by 
 which I am surrounded ; and I trust, also, deeply 
 sensible of my own unworthiness, and of God's 
 infinite goodness towards me. 
 
 At D there is a copy of the large quarto 
 
 Common Prayer, illustrated by Westall. Every 
 thing must be illustrated now, — so we have the 
 Lord's prayer, and the Creed, exemplified by 
 an affectation of sentiment and piety, which do 
 not show themselves by external tokens when 
 they really exist. The only print which much 
 pleased me, is one of a domestic group, father and 
 mother, and grandfather and grandmother, with 
 a pretty boy saying his catechism. This is a 
 very pleasing picture ; for the rest I cannot say 
 much. 
 
 26. — In reading Gray's ode again, I am struck 
 with the affectation of feelings which could have 
 had no place in his mind. Surely, however he 
 might have been tired of the world, which at 
 
 * See the motto prefixed to this Diary. 
 VOL. 1. M 
 
178 DIARY. 
 
 his age, then not forty, was abundantly ridi- 
 culous, he could not have desired to be immersed 
 in the Grande Chartreuse, and condemned to 
 the senseless circle of observances to which the 
 victims of superstition were devoted in that 
 place. A retreat from the follies and distrac- 
 tions of the world is a very different thing from 
 such retirement as monastic institutions afford. 
 And the moment you suspect the sincerity of 
 the poet, though you may admire the classical 
 elegance of his language, all your pleasure in his 
 verses is destroyed. Such are my impressions 
 on a fresh perusal of this much famed ode. 
 
 June 14. — Attended Miss to the poor 
 
 blind clarionet-player, who is confined to his 
 bed with a shattered thigh bone, — without hope 
 of recovery ; yet not in the immediate prospect 
 of death. He is placid and contented, and waits 
 for his release without murmuring or impatience : 
 he says that he is happier now than he ever was 
 in his life. He is sixty-six years old, and has 
 been blind from his seventh year. 
 
 19. — After a painful night, I rose at six 
 o'clock, in order to be ready for the passage 
 boat on the canal, which I reached by seven, 
 when the boat put off. The deck seemed to 
 be crowded by passengers, from whom I escaped 
 into the sitting room. Breakfasted tete a tete 
 with a very intelligent Quaker ; — we had a good 
 deal of conversation during our meal, and I liked 
 his sentiments very much. The intercourse 
 
DIARY. lyc) 
 
 which it has fallen to me to have with the 
 members of the Society of Friends has always 
 been very pleasing to me. — I reached Glasgow 
 about nine o'clock, after a voyage of thirteen 
 hours. There was an unhappy man on board 
 evidently labouring under some sad mental dis- 
 ease ) the tenderness and discretion of his wife 
 w^ere most beautiful. In such cases all the graces 
 and excellencies of the female character are 
 called into exercise ; and that amiable woman 
 quite charmed me. What a trial her's must be ! 
 yet nothing could exceed the skill and kindness 
 of her management. They had two fine and 
 lovely boys with them. I looked on her with 
 admiration and respect. 
 
 20. — I passed a night of the greatest pain. I 
 went out after breakfast to get some books for my 
 grandchildren, and now carry a little library with 
 me. But the recollections of my own childhood 
 make me a " laudator temporis acti j" the spirit 
 of Newberry, the children's friend, is gone! This 
 is not such a trifle as some wise people would, 
 perhaps, think it. 
 
 The heat was great, and the motion of the 
 carriage in the journey from Glasgow to Ardeer 
 exasperated my complaints in a sad degree. 
 
 Quae mihi subeunda sint, nescio, oro autem, 
 ut a Te, Deus optime, quae mihi nunc infelicia 
 videntur, in bonum vertantur per misericordiam 
 Tuam. Oro, ut dum in corpore crucior, ad Te 
 quotidie propius accedam. Confirma mihi, O 
 
 M 2 
 
180 DIARY. 
 
 Redemtor clementissime, ea quse sis iis pollicitus, 
 qui ad Te veniant. Me per gratiam Tuam 
 ad Te attralie, me doceas quee superna sunt 
 appetere, quag terrena despicere ; attamen eis 
 sic uti ut omnia quse mihi in hac vita eveniunt 
 ad meliorem vitam sternant viam. Peccatis meis 
 ignosces, precor, — et ex vanitate humanarum 
 rerum omnem meam curam ad meliora paranda 
 dirigere discam! ]73K* 
 
 21. — After a melancholy day of pain, I was 
 obliged to retire early to bed; I contrived, 
 however, to write in dear 's New Testa- 
 ment. 
 
 22. — I began again with a little in F *s 
 
 book, but I could do little. My day was very 
 mournful and inactive in body, and I am pre- 
 cluded from all enjoyment of this pretty place. 
 But in all times, and on all occasions, may I be 
 enabled to say, ohy^ ug kya) ^sXck;, aXk' cog av. This 
 is the only resource ; and O gracious God, who 
 despisest not the prayer of the contrite and sor- 
 rowful, look down on me in mercy, and 
 strengthen me for the trials yet to come ! 
 
 24. — I have passed an useless day, not indeed 
 under the sufferance of much pain, but it is now 
 clear to me that it has pleased God that I .should 
 be afflicted with a return of former complaints 
 to a very alarming degree. While I am here, 
 nothing but perfect quiet must be my object; 
 with such care, if it be the Divine will, I may be 
 restored ; but my present condition is sad. At 
 
DIARY. 181 
 
 the same time, let me bless and praise the mercy 
 of God, for the many comforts that surromid 
 me, — for the health and prosperity of my dear 
 children, — for the constant affection and kind- 
 ness of my excellent and beloved wife, and the 
 many resources of ease under this severe trial, — 
 above all, for the call which every hour makes 
 upon me to prepare myself for leaving this 
 world. Give me, O Lord, Father of mercies, 
 Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, an earnest and 
 increasing desire to approach thee, and to be 
 made worthy of thy calHng, through our blessed 
 Redeemer I 
 
 25. — Met the family at two o'clock, and read 
 the afternoon service, — with great difficulty to- 
 wards the conclusion. Sometimes infirmity 
 breaks forth with a " quousque, Domine ?" But 
 may I rather be animated by the Spirit which 
 dictated the words I have just read in the 
 service of the day, — *' I know, O Lord, that 
 of very faithfulness thou hast caused me to be 
 troubled." 
 
 26. — Last evening severe distress obliged me 
 to retire very early to bed ; I am much relieved 
 this day, and bless God for his mercies to me, 
 whether his hand is laid on me for correction 
 or withdrawn. — I have bestowed much time on 
 Taylor's Holy Living this morning ; I pray to 
 God to give me His grace, that in the remainder 
 of my life on earth I may be right in intention, 
 diligent and dutiful in the employment of my 
 
182 DIARY. 
 
 time, and that, above all, at every moment I 
 may set Him before me, and seek to please and 
 obey him. 
 
 28. — The weather is fine, but there is a great 
 apparent want of rain. How doth this resemble 
 the state of my heart! — I want the comforts 
 and refreshment of the dew of God's grace. 
 
 30. — This is a solemn evening with me. I 
 cannot see the sixtieth year of my life conclude 
 without much serious thought. May Almighty 
 God, for Christ's sake, pardon my past offences, 
 and through His grace may the uncertain re- 
 mainder of my days on earth be passed in dutiful 
 submission to his blessed will ! 
 
 July 1. — By the great and unmerited goodness 
 of God »I am brought this day to the beginning 
 of "the sixty-first year of my life. O my soul, 
 bless the Lord for all his benefits and continued 
 goodness. May I, O God, through thy Spirit 
 be enabled to walk with thee for the remainder 
 of my pilgrimage ; that, forgetting those things 
 that are behind, and reaching forth unto those 
 things that are before, I may press toward the 
 mark for the prize of the high calling in Jesus 
 Christ. Amen. 
 
 Walked a little with my dear W , who 
 
 mentioned to me, with the feeling which became 
 her, a remark which she once heard made on Cow- 
 per's sermons, " that there is too much (I am 
 afraid to write) of Jesus Christ in them ;" the 
 person adding, "that she conceived the proper 
 
DIARY. 183 
 
 ground of acceptance with God at the hour of 
 death, was the remembrance of a well spent life." 
 Now this last sentiment explains the former most 
 melancholy language. But alas ! what are they 
 who thus go about to establish their own right- 
 eousness, and not rather submit to the righteous- 
 ness of God ? — are they not, by their own daily 
 confession, if that confession be sincerely ut- 
 tered, "miserable sinners," who have done what 
 they ought not to have done, and have left 
 undone what they ought to have done, in whom 
 is no health ? And if this confession be true, 
 where is this dying confidence in a well spent 
 life? Supposing that they could say of their 
 lives that they were such, have they for- 
 gotten the express declaration of our* blessed 
 Saviour, *' And ye, when ye have done all, say 
 we are unprofitable servants ; we have done 
 that which it' was our duty to do." Indeed, 
 such doctrine is calculated to produce error, 
 and consequently, misery imutterable. The 
 dying sinner, — and on a death-bed few will be 
 bold enough to call themselves any thing else, — 
 the dying sinner, awakened to a deep sense of 
 his unworthiness, of his unfitness of himself, to 
 stand before the presence of infinite purity, and 
 holiness, and justice, will not find one moment's 
 comfort in resting on himself, — he will find, 
 then, no stay and support of the soul, but in 
 the blessed atonement of Jesus Christ crucified — 
 on him alone will he rely. By faith he will 
 
184 DIARY. 
 
 come to the great and precious sacrifice, and 
 as the ancient father writes, " drinking of the 
 mysterious stream which flowed from the Re- 
 deemer's wounded side," he will be comforted ; 
 but not a thought will dwell on his own works 
 as meritorious, not a word of self-confidence 
 will then be uttered : " other foundation of 
 comfort, at that hour, can no man lay, than that 
 is laid, which is Jesus Christ. There is none 
 other name under heaven given unto man, 
 whereby we must be saved, but only the name 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ." And they who 
 teach themselves, or are betrayed into believing, 
 that they may rest on any other hope, are mis- 
 erably deceiving their own hearts, and preparing 
 for themselves confusion, and sorrow, and despair, 
 at the time of the greatest need. 
 
 3. — This mornftig was occupied chiefly with 
 Pyne's Royal Residences, and Lyon's Voyage to 
 the Arctic Regions. 
 
 In the first of these works there is much to 
 interest and entertaiii. I could wish the author 
 had written less like an upholsterer, — the descrip- 
 tions of splendid furniture, and catalogues of 
 pictures, are very wearying. Occasionally we 
 find anecdotes of former English history which 
 are attractive ; no where, however, can be seen 
 a more complete illustration of the well-known 
 story of the dervise in the Eastern palace. These 
 royal residences are truly to be described as 
 caravanseras. 
 
DIARY. 185 
 
 Lyon*s book is very curious and pleasing. His 
 style is what it should be ; his account of the 
 Esquimaux has interested me very much. There 
 is much in the character of these poor people 
 which makes one wish them well. The history 
 of Crante, to which Capt. Lyon continually refers, 
 must be sought for when I return home j for 
 probably he will say more than Lyon does, of 
 their religious opinions, if they have any. 
 
 See Lyon's Journal, 1824, page 372, &c. It 
 is impossible to attribute these notions of a future 
 state to any source but that of tradition. Capt. 
 Lyon says nothing of any belief of a supreme 
 Being, a Creator, among this wretched portion 
 of human nature. 
 
 That their account is, as he calls it, " straight 
 forward" and unvarying, is, in my judgment, a 
 direct proof that it is traditionary. And we 
 must look back to the times immediately subse- 
 quent to the universal deluge for the origin of 
 the tradition, which the various tribes of mankind 
 bear with them in their wide dispersion. It is 
 observable, that according to St Jude, the notion 
 of a state of retribution might remain from pa- 
 triarchal tradition. The account which the apos- 
 tle gives of the prophecy of Enoch is sufficient 
 to establish this point. In the notions of the 
 western tribes in N. America and Mexico, we 
 find a distribution of punishments as well as 
 happiness. The notions of the Esquimaux are 
 incomplete as compared with those just men- 
 
186 DIARY. 
 
 tioned, but this circumstance only strengthens 
 the opinion, that in all cases they are the result 
 of tradition, — of an ancient revelation disfigured 
 and corrupted. We find a very precise account 
 of future retribution among a very savage and 
 stupid tribe, the Chippewa Indians in N. Ameri- 
 ca. The poor Greenlanders appear even lower 
 in the rank of intellect, and it cannot be supposed 
 that at any period such notions were originally 
 invented by man ; for were they so, there would 
 not be the remarkable conformity every where 
 observed, nor would these opinions be found, as 
 lighted places, amid the horrible mental darkness 
 by which they are surrounded. The gross, car- 
 nal ideas of hunting, eating, and drinking, and 
 pursuing the life in Aad-lec, which was pursued 
 by the individuals while on earth, are natural to 
 man, who cannot raise himself to spiritual things 
 without higher aid, but these are no more gross 
 or carnal than the paradise of Mahomet, and 
 show what man is when left to himself. We ob- 
 serve the same notions prevalent among some of 
 the ancient nations, of whom Herodotus tells us, 
 that at the death of a king or other great man, 
 his slaves and principal attendants are slaugh- 
 tered on his grave, that he may have his retinue 
 in the other world. 
 
 The more we read of these things, the more 
 are we called upon to bless and praise the God 
 of mercy, and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 for his inestimable love in the redemption of the 
 
DIARY. 187 
 
 world, for the means of present grace, and the 
 hope of future glory, and for the holy instruction 
 which hath taught us that God is a Spirit, and they 
 that worship him must worship him in spirit and 
 in truth. While " eye hath not seen, nor ear 
 heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of 
 man to conceive the things which are prepared 
 for them that love God," we learn that our 
 spiritual nature is the nature especially concerned 
 in the blessings of the future state brought to 
 light through the Gospel. 
 
 5. — The professor advises me to read Demos- 
 thenes with a view to the elucidation of St Paul's 
 style of oratory — the eloquence of ratiocination. 
 This remark is of consequence, and on my re- 
 turn home, if it please God that I reach my home 
 in health and spirits, I will apply myself to the 
 Greek orator. I am happy to have such a rea- 
 son for the reperusal of Demosthenes, of whose 
 writings I am very fond. Much service to Bib- 
 lical knowledge \Yould result from the under- 
 taking, if my son would employ some time of 
 leisure in an illustration of this matter. A short 
 treatise, or an epistle of St Paul, published with 
 such observations as he would make, would be 
 a very valuable assistance to our sacred studies. 
 
 12. — My sorrows are enlarged indeed. The 
 severity of my sufferings is most overpowering. 
 May I have patience and submission to' the will 
 of God ! What a comfort it is to have a ruler, a 
 will to which w^e must submit, — especially as the 
 
188 DIARY. 
 
 revealed word, as well as the natural and daily 
 ordinances of his providence, convince us that 
 He is wise and merciful, and that whatsoever 
 he appoints for us, is what, if we were wise as 
 he is, we should choose for ourselves. The prayer 
 of faith, and wisdom, and obedience is the same 
 at all times, " Not my will, but Thine be done." 
 
 17. — Wrote in dear 's book. This labour 
 
 is much greater than I apprehended when I un- 
 dertook it. It does me good, however, and I 
 humbly ask a blessing on my work. The prac- 
 tical study of the word of God, I wish chiefly to 
 pursue. It is too late for much merely critical 
 labour, and above all, I do, ex imo corde, pray 
 against the influence of passive impressions. May 
 the merciful grace of God preserve me at all 
 times from them, for Christ's sake ! 
 
 18. — How tremendous must be the pollution 
 and evil of sin, that the Son of God himself be- 
 came man to redeem us from its penalty, and to 
 rescue us from its dominion ! No other sacrifice 
 could avail for this redemption, no voice but his 
 can obtain "gifts for us that the Lord God might 
 dwell among us." The Son of God prayed that 
 the cup of suffering might be removed from him ; 
 but it was not possible ! What food for medita- 
 tion is there here ! On the other hand, how great 
 is the value of moral goodness in the sight of 
 God, when Jesus Christ came from the glories 
 of Heaven to teach us, and bestow on us the 
 blessed assistance of the Spirit, that we may 
 
DIARY. 1 89 
 
 practise it I I have been perfectly overcome to- 
 day, with meditation on St Mark, chapter ix, 
 verse 43 — 49, especially the last verse compared 
 with 2 Corinthians, v. 10. It appears to me 
 mutually to illustrate and be illustrated by the 
 words of Christ himself, recorded by the evan- 
 gelist. May God Almighty protect and guide 
 me, for Christ's sake ! 
 
 20. — In the Glasgow Chronicle of this day, I 
 read some extracts from a late publication of Mr 
 R. Haldane's, containing a most shocking de- 
 scription of the state of religious matters in 
 Germany, abundantly confirming Mr Hose's 
 account. The manner in which one of the 
 German professors endeavours to disprove our 
 blessed Lord's miracles, is particularly offensive. 
 He is much more audacious than Semler, and 
 actually accuses our blessed Lord of *' fraud !'* 
 Alas I how near in actual character does this 
 wickedness approach to the irremissible sin ! 
 
 21. — Left Glasgow, and embarked in the canal 
 boat. I have had a suffering day, but I praise 
 God for His merciful protection of me thus far 
 towards my home. One might suppose that this 
 creeping navigation was exposed to no danger, 
 yet I was taught the contrary just now. We, by 
 some accident, encountered a large heavy-laden 
 barge on the canal. The concussion was trifling, 
 sufficient, however, to show me, that had we met 
 in the dark, or had not the steersman been very 
 quick in his motions, mischief of a serious nature 
 
190 DIARY. 
 
 might have been the consequence. Thus are we 
 awakened, at every moment, to consider that we 
 are safe only in the ceaseless guardianship of 
 D ivine Providence. 
 
 Here then I conclude my diary for the last 
 month. Much have I to be grateful for, and I 
 humbly implore of Him w^ho has restored me to 
 my home, that I may be sensible of his goodness, 
 and through his grace lead the remainder of my 
 life in his fear and to his glory, for Christ's sake. 
 Amen. — Praise the Lord, O my soul ! 
 
 July 23. — I resumed my notes in 's New 
 
 Testament, interrupted by my journey : and I 
 hope that I may have the book ready by the month 
 of October ; but this will not be effected without 
 a good deal of daily labour. I pray God to bless 
 my work ; — and heal me, O Lord, for I am weak. 
 
 24. — After a disturbed night, I have risen to 
 a day which I expect not to be less so. May 
 He whose wise and holy dispensations chasten 
 me in mercy, enable me to submit to my suffer- 
 ings as I ought ! 
 
 25. — Wrote a note on the " crown of thorns," 
 w^hich, I think was probably formed of the leaves 
 of the prickly pear. I cannot help thinking that 
 if the acanthus had been intended, as Pearce sup- 
 poses, the article would have been introduced. 
 Besides, had the acanthus been intended, I can- 
 not see why the word should be in the plural. 
 
 26 Attended good Mrs at one o'clock. 
 
 I was quite happy to resume my attendance on 
 
DIARY. 191 
 
 this pious lady. She will, I trust, be found 
 ready when her Lord cometh. 
 
 August 3. — I rose late this morning in much 
 distress. I applied to a remedy with no im- 
 mediate good effect. O may I apply myself 
 with still more earnestness to Him who can alone 
 relieve. May He in mercy look upon me ! 
 
 4. — Dr was with me late in the evenins* 
 
 yesterday, he gave me hopes of a reduction of 
 this inflammation, which, I thank God, has be- 
 gun to take place ; but I suffer much, and have 
 need of continual prayer for that aid which alone 
 can support me under my bodily trials, — They 
 are, however, and for ever blessed be Almighty 
 goodness, they are trials. He who permitteth 
 them will make me a way to escape, that I may 
 be able to bear them. 
 
 Kui ayiocaiLog, zoct u'TroXvT^cijtTig. What a sublime enu- 
 meration of the blessings of which Christ is the 
 author ! The holy writer is evidently not anxious 
 in this place, about logical arrangement, — higher 
 matters were in his mind : for, in fact, it would 
 appear that the order of the gifts of divine mercy 
 through the blessed Saviour is nearly the very 
 reverse of what is here set down. Much thought 
 must be bestowed on the text, with prayer for 
 God*s blessing on my meditations, before I could 
 venture to place these words in the arrangement 
 to be followed in discussing them : perhaps I 
 should say, aopicc, uTroKVT^aiaigy ^iKcuoffvv)^, ayienff(jb6g. 
 
19*2 DIARY. 
 
 13 I have, in the exercise of my official duty, 
 
 thrice lately read in the church the eloquent and 
 instructive reasoning of the Apostle on the resur- 
 rection of the body. St Paul's reasoning appears 
 to me in great part to rest on the acknowledg- 
 ment of our Lord's divinity and incarnation. He 
 was " the Lord from heaven.'* He was also '* the 
 second Adam." But when He united the divine 
 to the earthly nature. He became sig '^nufjuoi ^m- 
 -TToiovv for a life-giving Spirit, — contrasted with the 
 -^vxn ^coGDc, in the first man who was " from the 
 earth, earthly." As he had power to lay down 
 his life, and power to take it again, so has he the 
 power of raising to a spiritual existence all who 
 live through him. As the same Apostle writes to 
 the Philippians, iJbzraGxyi(j^ccriaii to (tcu(Jjdc Trjg ra'TCn- 
 vctXTScog ^(JbcDv, sig ro yvAa^ui avro <tO[/j[JjO§<Pov tm aajf/jocTi 
 TTJg ^o^i^g avTov, xccroi ttjv hi^ynccv rov ^vvotaSai uvrov 
 xoit v'TTOToi^cci iuvTM TO, ToiuTu. Phil. iii. 21 : He will 
 change the body of our (present) humiliation, so 
 that it shall be like unto the body of his (present) 
 
 glory according to the mighty working of his 
 
 power to subdue all things to himself. It is to 
 this irresistible power of his inherent divinity that 
 we trust for the accomplishment of this change ; 
 and thus they that die in the Lord depart this life 
 in the sublime assurance, that, through their Divine 
 Master, the mortal body, reunited at the great day 
 of restoration to the soul, shall put on immortality. 
 This change is necessary, for flesh and blood can- 
 not inherit the kingdom of God ; neither doth 
 
DIARY. 193 
 
 corruption inherit incorruption. But we are as- 
 sured that this change will certainly take place ; 
 and the sting of death is taken away, and the 
 victory is reft from the grave, through the same 
 Lord Jesus Christ, to whom all things are sub- 
 jected. Here is the merciful assurance that alone 
 can enable us to meet the king of terrors without 
 dismay, and to resign our souls into his hands 
 who has redeemed us. In this confidence we 
 sorrow not as they who have no hope, when 
 we commit the bodies of those whom we love 
 to the tomb : for as the same holy writer com- 
 forts the Thessalonians, "if we believe that 
 Jesus died and rose again, even so them also 
 which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him." 
 Let us mark the conclusion : " Therefore, be 
 ye stedfast, unmoveable, always abounding in 
 the work of the Lord ; forasmuch as ye know 
 that your labour is not in vain in the Lord," 
 1 Cor. XV. 58. 
 
 O Lord, I humbly beseech thee to endue me 
 with the spirit of charity and meekness — that, 
 knowing my own sins and infirmities, and errors, 
 I may feel with tenderness towards the weakness 
 or mistakes of others. Enable me to walk in the 
 way of thy holy commandments, and to set a good 
 example ; and give me grace, O Lord, while I 
 labour to guide others to do so in the spirit which 
 thou wilt approve and bless ; — but have mercy on 
 me ! and impart to me the strength and wisdom 
 to conduct myself aright, and never to lose sight 
 
 VOL. T. N 
 
194 DIARY. 
 
 of love and charity, while I abide stedfastly by 
 the principles which I have sought from thy lioly 
 word. Hear me, O Lord, for the sake of Jesus 
 Christ. Amen. 
 
 I read to my family this evening Cowper's ser- 
 mon on Luke xvi. 2, " Give an account of thy 
 stewardship." Here I close this book, with a deep 
 and earnest prayer to Almighty God to pardon 
 the sins and negligences and ignorance of my past 
 life as a steward, in the awful sense in which that 
 word is applicable to me, and to endue me with 
 the grace of his Holy Spirit to amend my life ac- 
 cording to his word, that I may be ready when 
 my Lord cometh. I ask this, in a spirit of deep 
 contrition, tlirough the merits of Jesus Christ, 
 our Lord and Saviour. Amen- 
 
 Sept. 26. — TiTDni' : humiliter quaesivit Psal- 
 mista aegritudine animi vexatus : Sit mihi lici- 
 tum remedium aerumnis meis suppliciter rogare. 
 O Deus, miserere mei, miserere — neque a preci- 
 bus meis aurem Tuam benignam avertas. 
 
 Nov. 29- — The cloudy state of the atmosphere 
 made it impossible to see the eclipse of the sun 
 this morning. It rained incessantly ; and the 
 astronomers sighed, and put away their tele- 
 scopes. Smoked glass was prepared, and thrown 
 away ; and with the eclipse of the sun the hopes 
 of the astronomer were eclipsed likewise. It is 
 to be lamented, that, according to Lord Howth's 
 notion, the Privy Council had not issued an order 
 to put it off to a clearer day. The story alluded 
 
DIARY. 195 
 
 to is well known by all who were acquainted with 
 Ireland in 1785. 
 
 A gentleman in Dublin set out to pay a visit, 
 and pass the day at Howth castle. He met the 
 noble owner coming into town to see the eclipse, 
 which he thought would be better seen in the 
 Phoenix park. " I am glad I have met your 
 Lordship," said the gentleman, " and shall save 
 you a useless visit to Dublin, for the eclipse is 
 put off to a future day by order of the Lord 
 Lieutenant." "Is it so ?" said Lord Howth : 
 " Well, there is no help for it ; so come with me, 
 and pass your day at Howth Castle." This is said 
 to be a positive fact. 
 
 Dec. 5. — Ps. XXV. This psalm is beautifully 
 adapted for the subject of prayer. The 11th ver. 
 especially is affecting. What doth it tell of the 
 mercy of Jehovah, that the sinner is encouraged 
 to implore that mercy, not by extenuating, but by 
 fully confessing the greatness of his offence. 
 
 pFor thy name's sake, O 
 >whnvhT>^r^^T^^y^^]vrh I Jehovah, (z. e. for the 
 : Kin 11 ""r) **{ s^ke of him who is thy 
 I name,) have mercy on 
 [_my sin, for it is great. 
 Were we to ask forgiveness at the hand of a poor 
 sinner like ourselves, we should seek to lessen, 
 not to acknowledge, the full extent of our tres- 
 pass. But not so, when we draw near in contri- 
 tion to the Father of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 The whole of this sacred hymn may be employed 
 N 2 
 
196 DIARY. 
 
 in private devotion ; and the prayer surely will 
 be accepted by the God of mercy, which is of- 
 fered in the name of the Redeemer, and in the 
 words of the Holy Ghost. 
 
 Dec. 12. — OiKog ccxsi^oToiyirog^ — the proper ob- 
 ject of a Christian's solicitude, — especially do w^e 
 ieel this, when oppressed by the trials and dis- 
 appointments of this world. Oh ! there is a 
 friend who is unchangeable ; and why do we not 
 give our hearts to that friend ! O knit my heart 
 unto thee, O Lord. 
 
 1827, Feb. 11. — The remainder of this day I 
 passed in a state of great feebleness, and went to 
 my bed very poorly indeed. Concedat Deus 
 optimus, ut indicationes baud e longinquo adve- 
 nientis mortis, humiliter accipiam — atque ad dis- 
 ciplinam mentis et cordis diligenter eis utar. 
 
 March 9. — In reading the prayer-book this 
 morning, I have been much impressed by the 
 admirable composition of the Collect for the ninth 
 Sunday after Trinity, — and cannot but think that 
 the devout soul, which instructs the lips to offer 
 up sincerely the petitions here appointed, will be 
 accepted of Almighty God, for Christ's sake. In 
 acknowledgment of our own imperfection and 
 unwoithiness, we are here taught to look up to 
 the Author of every good and every perfect gift, 
 and to ask the mercy, which, above all, he has 
 promised in his holy word to bestow on those 
 who seek him. Grant to us. Lord, the spirit to 
 think and do always such things as be rightful. 
 
DIARY. 197 
 
 that we, who cannot do any thing that is good 
 without thee, may by thee be enabled to hve ac- 
 cording to thy will, through Jesus Christ our 
 Lord. Amen. 
 
 April 15.— Easter-day ; communicants 290. I 
 am most humbly thankful to Almighty God for 
 his great mercy and goodness, wherein he has 
 permitted me once more to commemorate the 
 death of my blessed Saviour. Hear my prayers, 
 pardon ray sins, sanctify my soul, and enable me 
 for the remainder of my pilgrimage to walk be- 
 fore thee in the path of thy commandments with 
 a quiet mind, for the sake of Jesus Christ, oui 
 Lord and Saviour. 
 
 May 5.— I met lately with a remarkable illus- 
 tration of that passage in the Psalms, " the moon 
 shall not hurt thee by night." In many oriental 
 countries, and in Egypt, moon-light is considered 
 as very injurious, particularly to the sight. If 
 any one sleeps in the open air during night, un- 
 protected by any shade from the moon-light, it is 
 thought very dangerous ; and even loss of sight 
 is sometimes attributed to it. 
 
 May 10. — Received a very sensible reply to my 
 question about the oracle of Delphi, from Mr 
 
 L , who is one of the most interesting young 
 
 men that I ever met with. He very kindly sent me 
 P. Knight's Prolegomena in Homerum. 
 
 18, Friday. — I endeavoured to read Dr Rus- 
 sePs preliminary chapter ; but it must be read 
 very slowly. He mentions his purpose to show 
 
198 DIARY. 
 
 the misrepresentations of chronological truth in 
 the common version of the Heb. S.S. This is 
 a very curious point. I observe the LXX. 
 introduce in the 24th ver. of the 10th chapter 
 of Genesis, a son of Arphaxad, Cainan, who 
 is not mentioned in the Hebrew S.S. The Heb. 
 make Salah the son, the LXX. the grandson 
 of Arphaxad. So does the genealogy in St 
 Luke. 
 
 August 16, Thursday. — In the second morning 
 lesson, the xiv. of Acts, ver. 19, the people of 
 Lystra are ready to stone Paul, whom they had 
 just magnified as a divinity. Is not this a proof 
 that even miracles are not of avail, unless joined 
 with faith in those who see them ? To my mind, 
 this deduction seems the intended deduction 
 from this most singular and important history. 
 
 Sept. 1 . — Mr *s funeral is to be on Mon- 
 day. The ancient members of my congregation 
 are dying around me. Quando ad me veniet ? 
 O Deus, sis misericors, meque ad mortem obeun- 
 dam para ! In all the dispensations of the Al- 
 mighty there is infinite mercy. Frequent indis- 
 positions make the preliminaries of departure fa- 
 miliar. 
 
 5.— Attended Mrs M of H , whom I 
 
 found confined to bed. 
 
 9. — Wrote a long note on Jonah i. 17, from 
 Bishop Jebb. By the way, who can be but 
 pained by the attempts of German theologians 
 to simplify the miracles of S. S. till they destroy 
 
DIARY. 199 
 
 them ? Semler began this wick*ed course, and 
 he has left his poisoned mantle, to corrupt all 
 who succeed him. Thank God, whenever in- 
 fidels spring up, by Divine goodness defenders 
 of the truth spring up also. The history of 
 Jonah is miraculous ; and all attempts to settle 
 what species of fish it was which swallowed 
 him up are worse than absurd. 
 
 *' Now the Lord had prepared a great fish to 
 swallow up Jonah." This is the declaration of 
 the word of God j and with this it becomes us 
 to be satisfied. 
 
 ]'D\ he appointed. It is nonsense to say that 
 no whales are found in the Mediterranean ; be it 
 so, — a fish, whether whale or shark, of capacity 
 to swallow Jonah, was found in that sea, and 
 the irresistible power of Jehovah brought it there. 
 Let man bow before his Maker, and lay his 
 hand upon his mouth. 
 
 30, Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity. — Read the 
 morning prayers, and preached in the drawing- 
 room at Allanton. Preached again at seven in 
 the evening to forty persons collected in the 
 same place. They were the domestic and farm 
 servants, and some of the people from the village. 
 
 October J. — Went to Paisley, and confirmed 
 fifty-two persons. Read one of my own printed 
 sermons to the family in the evening. 
 
 10. — Multiply any number by 9, and the sum 
 of the elements of the product is 9, or a multiple 
 of 9 : this is universally true. Again, take 
 
200 DIARY. 
 
 any sum of whatever number of figures and re- 
 verse it ; then subtract the lesser number from 
 the greater, and the remainder will be found 
 exactly divisible by 9 : this also is universally 
 true. Again, of three numbers, the difference 
 of the first from the last indicates the number 
 of nines to be found in the said remainder ; as 
 in the number 359, reversed 953, — the remainder 
 is 594,= 66x9, and the difference between 3 
 and 9 is 6 : this is universally true. 
 
 12. — Left Glasgow after a week of kindness 
 and hospitality from my dear son and daughter- 
 in-law. Had the happiness to find all well at 
 home. 
 
 26 Wrote some portion of my sermon for 
 
 Sunday, and then went to 's, where I met a 
 
 most delightful and engaging man, a Protestant 
 clergyman from Switzerland (Geneva), whose 
 conversation gratified me beyond measure. He 
 was introduced to by Miss . 
 
 Called on Miss . Her nephew is getting 
 
 better. Miss told me of a friend of her's, 
 
 whose servant chopped off the first joint of her 
 thumb. The severed piece was brought up in 
 a plate to her mistress, who immediately replaced 
 it, and tied it firmly. The surgeon who was 
 called in did not think proper to remove the 
 dressing, but assured the lady it would never 
 grow ; yet, to his astonishment, it did unite, 
 and the finger recovered, and the woman was 
 enabled to use it as before. This is as good as 
 
DIARY. 201 
 
 the story of the Dutchman and his wife, and 
 Taliacotius. 
 
 27. — Mr M dined unexpectedly at 's, 
 
 and after my own dinner I went to converse with 
 him. He pleased me greatly ; there is an 
 unction, a feeling in his conversation, which is 
 very delightful. 
 
 Nov. 1 . — This is the Fast day of the estabUshed 
 church. I have often wondered at the church 
 of Scotland having such infrequent administra- 
 tions of the Lord's supper, considering what 
 their founder Calvin has recorded as his opinion 
 on the subject. " I know not," says he, " who 
 first introduced the practice of infrequent com- 
 munions, but I am sure the devil invented it." 
 
 I observe in the Morning Herald an account 
 of a wonderful storm of hail, which fell in some 
 parts of Hindostan, and of which the stones are 
 said to have been on the next day as big as 
 pigeon's eggs. If this be true, it is not astonish- 
 ing that when they fell they destroyed men and 
 cattle. This event, by the way, removes every 
 objection to the destructive hail mentioned in 
 Joshua. I am inclined to think that the stones 
 which fell at that time, were what modern 
 science terms " meteorolites." But, supposing 
 them only frozen water, their size would account 
 for the destruction of which they were the mira- 
 culous instruments. I consider the miracle to 
 consist in their falling at that particular mo- 
 ment: as in the case of Sennacherib's army, I 
 
gOijJ DIARY. 
 
 conceive that theii' destruction was occasioned 
 by a Simoon, or pestilential wind, miraculously 
 employed as the instrument of the Almighty. 
 
 3. — I went to dine with my beloved and 
 
 , and I had some interesting conversation 
 
 with my dear , whom I love and respect 
 
 more and more every day. I returned early to 
 my home, — unfit for visiting, — too deaf to have 
 any great comfort in conversation, except I am 
 with one person only ; a multitude distract me, 
 and I become perfectly stupid. 
 
 9. — Mr H of S called and made me 
 
 a very kind and gratifying visit. Mr H is 
 
 a man of great worth and amiability ; and I 
 consider myself very happy in his acquaintance. 
 
 My excellent friend Mr R sat with me for 
 
 sometime. O I hope he did not find his half 
 hour lost to him! I am sure that it was not 
 lost time to me. 
 
 9. — To my unexpected and severe sorrow I 
 
 received this evening a letter from A M , 
 
 announcing the death of my beloved friend 
 
 G W . Alas ! how suddenly have those 
 
 hopes been destroyed which his late election to 
 Parliament had awakened ! Mysterious are the 
 ways of Divine providence ; — clouds indeed, 
 and darkness, are about His throne ; but this 
 we know, that righteousness and judgment are 
 the habitation of his seat. In this faith let us 
 humbly bow before the Judge of all the earth, 
 who ever doeth rightly. He will hear the 
 
DIARY. 203 
 
 humble prayer which is offered up to implore 
 his blessed support to the widow and the family 
 
 who mourn their deprivation. G W 
 
 became my pupil in October 1801, then in the 
 seventeenth year of his age, — one of the most 
 promising and delightful youths whom it was 
 ever my happiness to know. An accidental 
 fall on the 24th December in that year, was 
 the cause of a long and most painful illness, 
 which terminated in incurable lameness. He 
 bore his sufferings (from December to the fol- 
 lowing June,) with exemplary patience and 
 submission to the will of God. He has left 
 behind him a large family. In September 1826 
 he put himself to the expense and trouble of a 
 journey hither to pass a week under my roof. 
 On the 9th September I saw him for the last 
 time ! His continual engagements interfered 
 with our correspondence ; but I believe he loved 
 me as I ever loved him ; and no tears were 
 ever more sincere than those which I have shed 
 at his premature removal from a station which 
 he was calculated to adorn by the discretion and 
 good sense of his conduct, and to ennoble by 
 his manly virtues. The narrow list of my 
 friends is thus lessened by a loss which to me 
 can never be repaired. 
 
 My dear C , with affectionate kindness left 
 
 his company at lady S 's, to come to me for a 
 
 short time to express his sympathy in my afflic- 
 tion at Mr W ',s death. How dehghtful are 
 
201 DIARY. 
 
 the ties of consanguinity when they are thus 
 bound and sanctified by Christian kindness. 
 
 16. — This day was made most happy to me by 
 a letter from my dear son, enclosing one from 
 the Bishop of Durham, offering him the vicarage 
 of Chillingham, in Northumberland, which, of 
 course, was accepted with gratitude. Thus hath 
 Divine Providence appointed my son a charge 
 wherein may the blessing of God be with him. 
 
 18 Mr M attended the chapel this morn- 
 ing, and found fault with my discourse, because 
 I stated faith to be a requisite for acceptance 
 through Christ. I hope that there is some mis- 
 take here. As a foreigner, though by far the 
 best speaker of our language I ever met with 
 among foreigners, he must have misunderstood 
 what I said in some strange manner, for he him- 
 self said the same thing to me not long since, 
 and no man can read the Romans without being 
 convinced that faith is indispensable towards 
 justification. 
 
 November 20. — C gave me a long account 
 
 of Mr M 's sermon to-day. After all these 
 
 people debitent pour des nouveautes ce que fai 
 lu et connu depuis que j*ai lu la Bible. Mais 
 c'est a p)resent le temps de nouveautes et si un 
 homme se dit le serviteur de Jesus Christy on le 
 traite en entkousiaste. 
 
 Received a letter from the kind Bishop of 
 Durham, which has increased my gratitude and 
 regard, if possible, but I know not in what terms 
 
DIARY. 205 
 
 to express my thankfulness to Almighty God 
 for this most exceeding mercy, filling up the 
 measure of His goodness to my dear sons. May 
 His fatherly hand ever be over them ; and so 
 lead them in the knowledge and obedience of 
 His word, that in the end they may obtain ever- 
 lasting life through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. 
 As to myself, I am overcome. 
 
 22. — I went to visit a distressed friend who 
 is suffering under some anonymous complaint, 
 which gives his medical friends great alarm. It 
 appears to be situated in that incomprehensible 
 viscus, the spleen. I remember once hearing- 
 old Dr W -, with the mild appearance of an 
 
 old lion tormented with the tooth-ache, utter this 
 charitable wish, — ** I wish," said he, " that more 
 people would die of diseases in the spleen, that we 
 may know what purposes the spleen is intended to 
 answer.'* Nothing would have tempted me to 
 trust myself in the old ogre's hands. It was in 
 Duncan the bookseller's shop, in the autumn of 
 1792, the first season I had spent in Edinburgh. 
 I never heard a wish so truly professional. 
 
 25. — I went at two o'clock to visit Mr 
 
 Expounded the Iv. chapter of Isaiah to him. 
 
 The text in St John xiii. verse 7* can hardly 
 be used for the purpose which I once thought it 
 would answer : [justcc rccvrct, means evidently, 
 soon after, i. e. Thou knowest not now, at this 
 moment^ but thou shalt know [Jbzra, ravra as soon 
 as I have ceased the action in which I am en- 
 
•206 DIARY. 
 
 gaged. This is a good lesson to me of the great 
 impropriety of trusting to the best translation, 
 instead of going at once to the original. The 
 Scotch idiomatic use of " afterwards" affords a 
 more correct translation than the authorized 
 version. 
 
 Read Horsley's second sermon on Ephesians 
 iv. SO. I do not know a more able and instruc- 
 tive discussion of a most intricate subject, and 
 which is generally sadly misunderstood. 
 
 28.— Went with C L to Mrs M . 
 
 On our return I proposed to go by the St Ber- 
 nard's well, but Hygeia was in a bad humour, 
 and induced us to go on till the path was so bad, 
 that we were obliged to make an effort to climb 
 the ascent to the back of Moray Place. — Without 
 the presence and assistance of my dear sup- 
 porter, I should not have made so wild an ex- 
 periment. As it was 1 slipped, and slid, and 
 grasped, and grumbled, and stepped, and stum- 
 bled, and should never have reached the sum- 
 mit, but that C *s footing and his spirits were 
 
 better than mine. My shoes were two or 
 three pounds heavier with the accretion of mud, 
 and the pleasure of treading on the security of 
 pavement was never more acceptable. But I am 
 too old and feeble for such exertions. 
 
 29. — I fear that I am not sufficiently grateful 
 for my preservation from danger yesterday. Had 
 I fallen down the ascent, where we first left the 
 path, I must have suffered severely. I hope I 
 
DIARY. 207 
 
 shall not lose the feeUngs which occupied my 
 mind last night. 
 
 December 13. — Ta^rav tt^u [jt^e^i^vccv vfjuSv stt/^^/- 
 -^ccvrsg STt' avrov, on kvtco fiiiXst Tte^i viiicov. It is the 
 blessed office of faith to enable us to obey this kind 
 and most gracious command, and in obedience to 
 it lies the secret of comfort and tranquillity. The 
 beautiful collect of our church on the eighth Sun- 
 day after Trinity is conceived in the spirit of this 
 filial trust in God. How I pray and long to ob- 
 tain it. My course is nearly run. May God 
 of his great goodness give me the spirit to "cast," 
 under my trials, all my care on him ! ^a<ra ^s 
 Tccihiicx, 'jt^oq [jjh TO '?ra^ov ov hozsi x^i^^ slvai, uKKci 
 'kv'Trrig' va-rz^ov ^s KocgTrov etgrjutfcov roTg ^i' uuT}jg yzyv- 
 (jj!/ci(T(jijSvoig UTTohi'haxTi htzcctoffvvrjg. Heb. xii. 11. 
 
 17. — xoci^ire iv ru Ky^/«y. ILv^iog idem significat 
 quod mri'' apud Hebraeos. Hebraei enim nomine 
 mn'' sanctissimo nempe Dei nomine, nunquam in 
 colloquio utebantur, sed vice ejus ''nj< pronuntia- 
 bant, quod LXX per ILv^iog exprimebant. 
 
 25, Christmas Day. — The communicants were 
 three hundred. 
 
 30. — Preached in the forenoon on Revelations 
 xiv. 13. The Christian Ivivixiov. 
 
 "TiDp "jT'i " My times are in thy hand." Psalm 
 xxxi. 15. 
 
 1828, January 1. — I will not allow myself to 
 meditate on distressing subjects which might 
 readily present themselves. But I will bless 
 with all my powers. I bless thee, O Lord, and 
 
208 DIARY. 
 
 Father of mercies, for the many comforts with 
 which I am surrounded, and I do humbly be- 
 seech thee of thy great mercy to make me 
 daily more thankful ; and above all, to make me 
 daily more fit for that change which cannot now 
 be far distant. 
 
 O God, hear my prayer, and direct my heart 
 unto holy things, and bind me unto thee, for 
 Christ's sake. Amen. 
 
 3. — I wrote a long letter to Mrs and did 
 
 my best to reply to her inquiries concerning our 
 knowledge of each other in a future state, — and 
 the interest which departed spirits may be sup- 
 posed to take in the welfare of those whom they 
 have left behind on earth. As to the first of 
 these points I think, that the inferences to be 
 drawn from the words of David (2 Sam. xii. 23.), 
 from the language of our blessed Lord in the 
 parable of Dives and Lazarus (St Luke xvi. 23.), 
 and still more to the purpose in (St Luke xxiii. 43.) 
 the address to the thief on the cross, and from 
 the words of St Paul (Colossians i. 28), warrant 
 us in expecting to know again those with whom 
 we have been familiar in the world. — With 
 regard to the other question, I do not think that 
 Holy Scripture speaks decidedly. A passage in 
 Ecclesiastes (ix. 6.) is adverse to the notion that 
 the departed know what is passing in earth. 
 
 6. — Epiphany. Read the Ix. chapter of Isaiah 
 in the Hebrew. In 5th. v. of this chapter the 
 words "thine heart shall fear," are not consist- 
 
DIARY. 209 
 
 ent with the next words *' and be enlarged ;" a 
 sentiment very little allied to fear. Now the 
 Hebrew words here, are : iisV inii insi* ins 
 properly means " to agitate," and in a moral 
 sense " to agitate with any passion, whether 
 fear or joy :" — the collocation of this word with 
 nm requires, therefore, that the text should be 
 rendered, " and thy heart shall beat with joy, and 
 shall be enlarged." In the Bible called the Com- 
 prehensive Bible "published by Bagster, — there 
 is a note on the word " forces," — " the forces of 
 the Gentiles," — the Annotator suggests the cor- 
 rection of the margin in our Bibles, "wealth." 
 The original is Vn which appears to me better 
 rendered by "force or strength," of course used 
 figuratively, than by the marginal substitution of 
 " wealth." — In the fourth verse of this chapter, 
 " thy daughter shall be nursed at thy side ;" 
 there is an allusion to the manner in which, in 
 many places of the east, the women carry their 
 children, namely, resting on the liip^ the child's 
 legs embracing the body of its nurse, by whose 
 arm thrown round it, it is thus supported on the 
 hip. See Bp Lowth on this place. The know- 
 ledge of oriental manners is often better than a 
 Lexicon to explain Holy Scripture. 
 
 7, Monday. — Kara (rd^zoi, Romans iv. 1. 
 does not mean as it is generally understood " ac- 
 cording to human or fleshly consanguinity," but 
 is to be joined with the word " iv^riKivoci" and 
 signifies, what advantage did Abraham obtain, 
 
 VOL. I. o 
 
210 DIARY. 
 
 hy his workSi especially by his obedience to the 
 law of circumcision. 
 
 10. — I received a letter from the Rev. Mr 
 West, Seceding Episcopalian pastor at Brechin, 
 expressing his wish to join the communion of the 
 church. 
 
 I was much engaged in my lecture for Satur- 
 day. This work requires much thought, and I 
 admit, and then reject, and perhaps ultimately fix 
 upon the same expressions to convey as clear 
 ideas as I can of the Apostle's reasoning. But, 
 oh ! how delightful is the employment. How 
 every new verse adds to the delight and com- 
 fort of the mind! contemplating the course of 
 divine unchangeable grace to fallen man. — To 
 read the Holy Scriptures as they ought to be 
 read, is to live in the cheering presence of God, 
 the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. — Every 
 fresh line presents some fresh subject of pious 
 gratitude, and as the plan of infinite mercy is 
 more and more unfolded, the heart is improved, 
 and the understanding enlightened, and under 
 the divine blessing we seem to become more per- 
 fect and furnished to all good thoughts and works. 
 
 15. — Dear C suggested a reason for read- 
 ing l(p' M in Rom. v. 12. in relation to av^^ojrov, 
 and not to '^(x,vo(,rog^ which is, in my opinion, 
 unanswerable. If you read i^' co as relating to 
 ^ccvoLTog^ you remove the argument from original 
 sin to actual sin, which is quite inconsistent with 
 St PauPs reasoning. By the way, it yet appears to 
 
DIARY. 211 
 
 me that although Bishop Gleig's criticism should 
 be admitted, aud '^dmrog be the antecedent to 
 k(p' M, as the terminus ad quern, as in Phil. iii. 12, 
 & iv. 10. yet still the meaning must be that all 
 men are to be considered as sinners in relation to 
 the sin which brought death into the world — 
 for of no other sin is there here any mention. 
 
 February 6. — Msrai/oioc, a change of mind. 
 This does not indicate the cause, but the effect 
 of an operating cause. — On the result of psraVo/a 
 in the evangelical sense, see Isaiah Iv. — 
 
 Ip oj. I am more and more convinced that the 
 margin is right here. 
 
 29. — Attended a meeting of the Irish School 
 Society, and at the desire of the committee 
 
 moved the first resolution. Mr seconded in a 
 
 very good speech. But I do not like this speak- 
 ing. It appears to me to be nothing but vanity. 
 
 March 5.— Attended Miss L and adminis- 
 tered the Holy Communion to herself and her 
 pious parents. 
 
 15. — Sir called, and at his desire I at- 
 tended the sick bed, I fear very soon to be the 
 death bed, of his amiable and pious daughter. I 
 was much delighted with some of her notes on 
 remarks which I had made on several passages of 
 Holy Scriptures. 
 
 19. — At nine this morning I received a 
 
 touching note from Sir . The shaft is sped. 
 
 His daughter is removed to heaven. May we 
 learn to watch and prepare ! 
 
 o 2 
 
212 DIARY. 
 
 29 Held my general confirmations, and con- 
 firmed one hundred and two persons, Good 
 Friday Communicants one hundred and fifty. 
 
 April 6. — Easter-day. Administered to four 
 hundred and thirty seven communicants. 
 
 20. — 2 Sunday after Easter. Preached in the 
 forenoon on Colossians iii. 3- The text contains 
 one of the most sublime doctrines of our holy 
 religion. I could almost call it an esoteric doc- 
 trine, — but blessed be God, there are no such 
 doctrines in the peculiar sense originally given to 
 that expression. 
 
 I am concerned to hear this morning of the 
 death of Sir 's son. Captain . I un- 
 derstood that he died on board the vessel 
 which was bringing him home ! Thus is the sen- 
 tence fulfilled at all seasons of life o-^/s, ;; (j^zaovv- 
 KTtov, ri tCkuKro^o^pm'mqy i] -Trgsot . St Mark xiii. 35. 
 How forcible ought to be the merciful admo- 
 nition, yg'/jyogsiTB ovp ! (ib.) In this case, above all, 
 we experience the dangerous influence " of pas- 
 sive impressions." — (See Butler's Analogy, &c. 
 Part 1. chapter v. p. 103. 8vo. Edition, Edin- 
 burgh 1804.) 
 
 The passage of this great man's immortal work 
 to which I here refer, is one of the most interest- 
 mg and valuable admonitions that occur in the 
 whole treatise. It opens the way to reflections 
 of unspeakable importance. 
 
 Young somewhere in his Night Thoughts has 
 this remark. 
 
DIARY. 213 
 
 " All men tiiiuk all men mortal but themselves." 
 
 Well do these words deserve attention. — 
 
 We are presented with a very instructive in- 
 stance of the vanity of passive impressions in the 
 first lesson of this day. Numbers xxiii. 10. 
 When Balaam uttered the memorable prayer, 
 " let me die the death of the righteous," he was 
 imder the influence of such impressions, and we 
 know what was his end. God has appointed us 
 to action in this state — the period when contem- 
 plation may safely occupy us, is to come. There 
 are, I suppose, few men who will not allow the 
 truth of Butler's discussion of this subject; — I am 
 sure that I do from sorrowful and humiliating ex- 
 perience. In ordinary life, in matters with which 
 we are familiar every day, we may see the danger 
 of yielding to passive impressions. It is remark- 
 ably shown in those persons who are easily 
 moved to tears by a pathetic incident in a work 
 of fiction, and yet are as hard as stones to the 
 calamities of real life. 
 
 Our blessed Saviour has been pleased to warn 
 us on this subject in his parable on the sower. 
 Let the Christian reader follow out the medita- 
 tions that present themselves to the mind on the 
 case of the seed sown on stony ground. 
 
 21. — Among other interesting subjects of con- 
 versation in which I was engaged this day, the 
 notion was alluded to that our blessed Lord's 
 sufferings were to be contemplated in the light 
 of punishment. This I denied, for punishment 
 
214 DIARY. 
 
 is the infliction of justice upon guilt, but, in the 
 case of our Lord, this notion cannot be for a 
 moment admitted. He was the just (the just 
 one) suffering for the unjust. The pains of tlie 
 cross were borne by the Holy Sufferer as an 
 atonement for others, and could not have been 
 efficient as such had the sufferer been liable to 
 punishment. It is of the very essence of the 
 redemption, that " He who knew no sin, was 
 made sin for us." 
 
 In the Psalm of this day, the cv. there is a 
 remarkable difference between the Prayer Book, 
 and Bible translations. In the 28th verse of 
 this Psalm, the Hebrew is thus : "jtz/n^i -[ii/'n nV^ 
 nnm na iid ah') Bible : He sent darkness and 
 made it dark, and they rebelled not against his 
 word. Old T^ersion : He sent darkness, and it 
 was dark, and they were not obedient unto his 
 word. The Septuagint reads, 'Ela-rscTs/Xs GKorog 
 Kou IffxoTocffS, zcit ov 'TToc^i'Triz^avijcv rovg Xoyavg uvrov. 
 Marg. (on) ov Uteris minoribus scriptam. 
 
 It is difficult to account for such a discrepan- 
 cy as this between the two versions. It must be 
 occasioned by the sense given to the word ""it:. 
 The usual meaning of the word mr), if nD is to 
 be considered as a form of that verb, is to rebel. 
 But the Septuagint seems to have derived the 
 word from "id. 
 
 Perhaps the translators of the Old (Prayer 
 Book) version, looked upon it as derived from 
 n"i\ See Parkhurst under mD. A gentleman 
 
DIAUY. 215 
 
 called on me to arrange about preaching for the 
 Naval and Military Bible Society. We appointed 
 Wednesday the 30th instant. 
 
 29, Tuesday. — I rose very late to try with an 
 aching back, and trembling hands, and a most 
 confused head, to prepare for to-morrow's sermon. 
 SO. — Rose late, but in time for chapel at two 
 o'clock. I went there, and am most grateful 
 that I was enabled to do so. I preached for the 
 Naval and Military Bible Society, — a discourse 
 on the character of Cornelius. Acts x. 2. My 
 seiTnon, as good Bishop Hall would say, was 
 " better taken than given." I never was more 
 exhausted, and I was very glad of my dear son- 
 in-law's assistance home. 
 
 May 2. — The Test Act is repealed. The 
 emancipation of the Roman Catholics will follow. 
 The spirit of spurious liberality is predominant, 
 and will have its way. I fear that when it is too 
 late, we shall (that is, those who are alive a few 
 years hence, but not I,) hear it said, " Who 
 could have thought it ?" when the wild boar is 
 revelling in the enclosures of the vineyard. Lord 
 Clarendon's History has been written in vain for 
 some men. Nevertheless it is, as the wise and 
 good man who wrote it, says of it, KTfj(jtjcc kg ecu. 
 Nothing sometimes provokes one more than to 
 hear people talk of this or that continental na- 
 tion, who have made no differences, and admit 
 all sects alike into secular office. Let them do 
 as they choose : such policy will not do for 
 
2l6 DIARY. 
 
 Britain ; nor was it by such lax conduct that tlie 
 State and Church of Britain have become the 
 admiration and envy of the world. But liberality 
 will be her destruction, I mean modern liberality, 
 not Christian charity ; whose appearance modern 
 liberality attempts to assume, but it will not do : 
 and then the mask will fall, or be taken off, and 
 then — a'^^;jr* cc^^t^tojv. 
 
 14. — ><3p, Hence Canaanite, zealous ; this epi- 
 tliet St Luke with great wisdom renders in his 
 gospel, Z'/fkojTT^v. The late Bishop Newton who 
 wrote on the Prophecies, ventured on some oc- 
 casion from a passage in the Apocalypse to pre- 
 dict the ruin of the Turks at a certain period. 
 The good Bishop outlived that period, and so did 
 the Turkish power, and Bishop Newton very 
 candidly confessed his mistake. This is an useful 
 anecdote. 
 
 20. — I wrote a letter to the professor yesterday, 
 chiefly about the Triads or Trinities of Plato. 
 I do not imagine that in the doctrines of Plato 
 there is any approach to the Christian doctrine. 
 Dr King seems to think much the same. I have 
 begun to prepare a sermon for Trinity Sunday, 
 on Hebrews ix. 14. — a practical view of the doc- 
 trine, showing 1st, The united consent of the 
 Three Persons of the blessed Trinity in the re- 
 demption of man, and ^dly. The practical admo- 
 nition to be drawn from it. 
 
 Do not you find yourself continually inclined 
 to forget that inanimate things have no volition ? 
 
DIARY. 217 
 
 Yes, I do, but so did Dean Swift, a wiser man 
 than I, who used to say that nothing was more 
 provoking than the perverseness of inanimate 
 things. 
 
 22. — " Let us have no wishes, but commit 
 ourselves entirely to the disposal of him who so 
 well knoweth how to order all things right." 
 
 These were the words of a dying Christian. 
 May God give me grace to make them the rule 
 of my heart ! 
 
 After a night of much pain, I rise to a day of 
 anticipated suffering. May I be strengthened to 
 endure it ! May the love of God be evermore 
 kindled in my heart, for in the midst of judg- 
 ment there is mercy. I pray to be enabled 
 humbly to wait the appointment of Divine Provi- 
 dence. This is, at present, hard to my feeble- 
 ness, but God will strengthen me. Save me, 
 O Lord. 
 
 23 In Dr Thomas Jackson's works, volume 
 
 3. page 413. is a most interesting elucidation of 
 Hebrews iv. 12, 13. showing that the koyog tov 
 0£oy is not the written word of Scripture, but the 
 Word himself. 
 
 This is new to me, but the more I contem- 
 plate it, the more am I delighted and convinced. 
 I passed some time to-day in reading Dr Walk- 
 er's most excellent lecture on the intei7)retation 
 of Scripture. Some of his views are most valuable 
 and useful, and there is a tone of real piety in 
 the whole which is edifying and instructive. 
 
218 DIARY. 
 
 24. — I am by no means of Erskine's opinion 
 as to the first verses of the vi chapter of Romans, 
 nor do I agree with him in his notion that in the 
 V chapter k§7[Jjk signifies " a state of condemna- 
 tion." 
 
 25. — Whitsunday, communicants 180. No- 
 thing can be more interesting than the compari- 
 son of those two great events, the dispersion 
 and the gathering of the nations of the world, 
 effected by the same miracle, the "gift of 
 tongues," at Babel, and at Jerusalem on the day 
 of Pentecost. 
 
 It has always appeared to me likewise, as a 
 remarkable proof that the apostles were no en- 
 thusiasts, that they were commanded by our 
 Lord to wait the promise of the Father, and they 
 did wait. This is not enthusiasm, which, ever 
 ardent and violent, would not have waited. 
 
 June 1, Trinity Sunday. — The mysterious doc- 
 trine of the ever blessed Trinity in Unity, is an 
 object of faith ; but like all other objects of faith 
 it bears with it most important moral application. 
 The uniti/ of the three Divine persons of the 
 Holy Trinity in the salvation of man, — the 
 Trinity of the relation of the Creator, the Re- 
 deemer, and the Sanctifier of man. Communi- 
 cants 150. 
 
 3. — Docuisti me, Domine, quod sine te nulla 
 eveniunt bona : sine te nulla est in hominibus 
 gratia vel potestas. Ex imo corde, tibi propter 
 banc tuam misericordiam benedico. 
 
DIARY. 219 
 
 rsyu(jijmff[jbsvof. The figure here is taken from 
 the schools of tlie ancients in the exercises of 
 the Palaestra. They whom the Apostle describes 
 by this term are such as have not only been 
 disciplined, but have profited under the teaching. 
 
 The words mn ^3nK, "stones of hail," seem 
 to imply, I think clearly, that the stones which 
 destroyed the enemies of Israel, were not meteoric 
 stones, but really hail stones, as they are trans- 
 lated in our version. 
 
 8. — Quae doceas, Domine, mihi des intelligen- 
 tiam cernere. 
 
 16, Wednesday. — Set out at seven this morn- 
 ing in the canal boat for Glasgow. 
 
 Tasso's rule of despatch : 
 
 " Rapido si, ma rapido con legge." 
 
 I have gained this, at least, in my tedious voyage. 
 
 17- — At Glasgow. At two o'clock I set out 
 for Rothsay in the steam packet. 
 
 I reached Rothsay pier after a voyage of five 
 hours and a half, glad to escape from the steam 
 boat. 
 
 In the cabin, to which I was driven by the rain, 
 I met a man who, with Muckersy's Gener's Let- 
 ters in his hand, and with Muckersy's name on the 
 title page, asked me whether I knew who Mr 
 Gener was ! The same sage asked me afterwards 
 whether I had ever read the books written by 
 one Waver] ey. I said that I had read most of the 
 works which went by the name of the Waverley 
 
220 DIARY. 
 
 novels, and he answered, "Ay, — what a clever 
 man that Waverley must be !" 
 
 July 20. — Set off in the Ewing steam boat with 
 the professor at three p. m. for Greenock. 
 Pluvio cadente turba in camera inferiore col- 
 ligitur, ubi nemo nisi cum necessariis suis loqui- 
 tur, more Britannico. 
 
 38. — Parted with my dear companion at eleven 
 o'clock. He went to join an expected party 
 at home ; w^hile I was left like Ariadne to mourn 
 for my departed Theseus. I embarked at half- 
 past twelve on the Toward Castle, very untoward 
 
 to me. I left Mr in expectation of his 
 
 son and his daughter-in-law ; but for me, at this 
 hour, there is neither " placens uxor," nor chil- 
 dren, nor sacred home, — and both Horace and 
 Thomson may assist me in my lamentations. 
 
 Septembers. — "inDTO^, in some copies "i-riDr) ; 
 in either case it is, I think, the participle Hiphil 
 of the verb -ino, — and I should render it '* as 
 one that hideth." This reading is strengthened 
 by the reading VDS in some MSS. instead of n-'is, 
 the common reading, which is followed in our 
 authorized version, " we hid, as it were, our 
 faces from Him." The LXX. read on a^scr^a- 
 vrai TO 'TT^offcoTTov avTov, which is not very ac- 
 curate, for Via can scarcely agree with nnon. 
 
 9. — In reading the xxx. psalm, 8th ver. I 
 find the reading mnV preferred instead of the 
 ordinary reading -rinV by Houbigant, Kennicott, 
 and Lowth, and Horsley. It seems to have 
 
DIARY. ^21 
 
 been the reading of the Septuagint — in such 
 matters an ahnost indisputable authority. The 
 letters "t and n are so easily confounded, that 
 I am the more inclined to adopt this proposed 
 change. 
 
 8 I had some conversation with Mr — — 
 
 about g(p* 5) in St Paul's Ep., Rom. v. 12. He 
 thinks that Bishop Lloyd rendered it " inas- 
 much," or to that purpose. I am not yet satis- 
 fied about the passage, or the two next verses. 
 I confess I am much inclined to Mr Perrot's 
 
 explanation of the 14th ver the words W) ru) 
 
 oihoiooijja,ri rric, -Tta^a^oifjicog 'Aholfjjy he understands to 
 signify that they had not committed any offence 
 prohibited under the revealed penalty of death, 
 as Adam did : hence that 6 ^dvccrog l^aai'kivffiv k%o 
 'A^ajO; jW/£)^^/ Mo^ffgiy?, in fact that they who died, 
 died in consequence of the imputation of Adam's 
 sin. If this be the just interpretation, it explains 
 the manner of our acceptance through Christ, 
 who was typified by Adam ; and the meaning of 
 the last verse of the 5th chap, of the 2 Cor. 
 " that we are made the righteousness of God in 
 Christ." 
 
 May the o^oiooysja rj^g "Tra^a^daiug ^Ahdfju be 
 considered as the commission of an offence of 
 which the consequences extended to others? 
 I do not remember it so interpreted by any 
 commentator, and therefore presume that the 
 idea has no foundation. In Scriptural interpre- 
 tation, what is new is seldom what h just 
 
222 DIARY. 
 
 13. I am very weak and ill : this is approach- 
 ing to my great climacteric. May he who alone 
 can draw the heart make me his, for the sake of 
 our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Oh may I 
 be fitted to appear before Him ! resting on the 
 merits of my Saviour, for without that support 
 who can stand? 
 
 16. — In the LXX. Deut. xiv. 2, and xxvi. 18, 
 the Alexandrian word Trz^ioixjiog occurs, in the 
 sense of peculiar ; it is used once in the New 
 Testament, Titus ii. 14, in the same sense. 
 
 In His hands are all things well ordered and 
 sure. In these few words are comfort, and sup- 
 port, and guidance, and a strong staff to steady 
 the halting and faltering steps of our unfaitliful 
 nature. In the silence of the night when only 
 one eye seeth me, and only one ear heareth my 
 prayers and sighs, on such assurance do I humbly 
 rest. None but he knoweth my inward pain. 
 
 October 9, Thursday. — Went to to read 
 
 the funeral service ; the deceased was just thirty- 
 five, — in the midst of cheerfulness and apparently 
 good health, he was suddenly called away. May 
 it please Almighty God to give me a spirit of 
 preparation and recollection, that I may not de- 
 part this life by that dreadful event which Young 
 describes as a " slow sudden death." 
 
 15. — In the Ixviii. Psalm, 4, are these words, 
 nnnpi idiV iVd, In our version in the Bible these 
 are rendered, " extol him that rideth upon the 
 heavens." To this version there seems one 
 
DIARY. 223 
 
 great objection, namely, that it is not consistent 
 with the V. I consider this objection as fatal to 
 such a version. The translation which H orsley 
 supports, from Lowth and Dr Chandler, &c. is, 
 *' prepare the way for Him who rideth through 
 the wilderness." This translation is greatly 
 confirmed by a passage in Isaiah, not noticed 
 by Parkhurst, chap. Ivii. 14, and leaves no 
 doubt on my mind. The words are translated 
 in our Bible, " cast ye up, cast ye up." I do 
 not think that any of the critics renders miip 
 rightly, — why should not this be ''thick dark- 
 ness ?" *' Prepare the way for Him who rideth 
 on clouds and thick darkness." — See Psalm xviii. 
 10, for a like figure. The word there is Vbip ; 
 and when it is considered that letters of the same 
 organ are mutually interchangeable, I think the 
 affinity between this word and that in the Ixviii. 
 Psalm will be seen, — i and 5 are both labials, n 
 and b are both Unguals. 
 
 26. — On my arrival on Friday, I was informed 
 of the great loss which I have sustained in the 
 
 death of . He had been long ill, and was 
 
 I trust well prepared for the awful change. O 
 may Almighty God forgive my sins, negligences, 
 and ignorance, and prepare me for the same end 
 
 of my course, for Christ's sake 
 
 May the protection and blessing of the Almighty 
 attend his mourning family ! 
 
 38. — The Presbyterian Fast. I pray to God 
 to make me truly fast in spirit, and to submit 
 
224 DIARY. 
 
 myself with humility to the correction of his 
 holy hand. 
 
 31. sent me Bate's translation of the 
 
 Pentateuch, &;c. He can give me no instruction 
 about cutting the reeds ; they are used in writing 
 Persic, &c. The only Jew whom he ever saw 
 write Hebrew held the reed in his fist. 
 
 Quid turn postea ? 
 
 Si mihi, si liceat producere leniter gevum 
 
 Nee pompam, nee opes, nee mihi regna petam . 
 Vellem, ut divini pandens mysteria veibi, 
 
 Vitam in secreto mre quietus agam. 
 Adsint et Graise eomites Latiajque Camoense, 
 
 Et lepida faveat eonjuge Isetus Hymen. 
 Tum satis ; seternum spes, eura, dolorque valete, 
 
 Hoc tantum superest discere — posse mori. 
 
 These beautiful lines are more soothing to my 
 mind than can be told. Did I presume to form 
 a wish, such should I desire to be the case of my 
 last years ; but the '* divini mysteria verbi " may 
 be pursued every where, — and oh the *' posse 
 mori " we must seek in the Gospel of Christ ; 
 and the comfort which is the peace of God, is 
 the same every where. 
 
 The author of the above lines was Cyril Jack- 
 son, D. D., formerly Dean of Christ Church. 
 He was allowed by God's providence to close 
 his useful life in peace and retirement from the 
 world, and to prepare himself for the grave with 
 charity and holy meditation, till he fell as a shock 
 
DIARY. 225 
 
 of corn in full season, ripe for eternal life. 'O jooa- 
 xa^iTjjg. — Truly enviable are such a life and such 
 
 a death 
 
 22.~Mr called. I shall be much af- 
 flicted if this excellent, and learned, and amiable 
 man be ruined by attaching himself for life to our 
 
 poor church. I must write to about him. 
 
 'O xcci^og ryjg sfL^g ccvocKvorsatg IpiarriKZ' rov kyoova, 
 Tou zciXov riyajviffyijocif rov ^^6(/jOU rsrsXszcCy r'^v 'Tviffrtv 
 Tsr/i^j^fCK. Quam acerbis poenitentiae lacrymis 
 haec sunt mihi legenda. Eheu! eheu! quag 
 apostolus de se recordatus I quam fidenter ad 
 proemium fidei sese attoUit! Nequaquam mihi 
 ita recordanda est vita mea ! O Deus optime ! 
 Pater Domini nostri lesu Christi — tuam mise- 
 ricordiam oro. Per Salvatorem nostrum Te oro, 
 resipiscentem exaudi. Amen. 
 
 30. — My present condition reminds me of 
 Hugo Arnott, who was one day, while panting 
 with the asthma, looking out of his window, and 
 was almost deafened by the noise of a brawling 
 fellow who was selling oysters. *' The extrava- 
 gant rascal !" said Hugo, " he has wasted in 
 two seconds as much breath as would have served 
 me for a month." 
 
 December 1. — I have offered instruction in 
 Hebrew to the candidates for orders in our 
 church. My class met for the first time this day. 
 I prayed for a blessing on our labours, and then 
 proceeded to instruct my young friends in the 
 letters 
 
 VOL. I. p 
 
226 DIARY. 
 
 It has been said, that a very curious and in- 
 terestmg book might be composed, if any man 
 of ordinary experience, and acquaintance with 
 men of letters, were to set down but one anecdote 
 which he had either heard or read, every day ; 
 I here begin such a collection, and will write 
 one anecdote till I am dry. 
 
 Anecdote 1. — The famous Dr Clarke, one 
 of the most learned men of his time, was one 
 day amusing himself with some seniors of his 
 own kind and standing, with feats of agility, 
 jumping over chairs and tables, and playing like 
 mere schoolboys ; some one knocked at the 
 door ; Clarke reconnoitred from his study win- 
 dow, and observing that the well known Beau 
 Nash had come to pay him a visit, he called out 
 to his merry companions, " Boys, be serious, 
 here comes a fool." 
 
 Anec. 2. — The grandfather of the present 
 Earl of Balcarras, was a benevolent man, with 
 more of what the French call bonhomie than 
 most men, as the following fact will show. His 
 lordship was a skilful agriculturist, and among 
 other fruits of his skill he was particularly proud 
 of a field of turnips which were of unusual 
 size. One day his lordship was walking in this 
 field and admiring its produce, when he dis- 
 cerned close to the hedge a woman who was a 
 pensioner of the family, but who, forgetting her 
 duty and obligations, had stolen a large sackful 
 of the precious turnips, and was making the 
 
D I A R Y. ggy 
 
 best of her way home, when she was tlius caught 
 in the manner, as the lawyers say. The worthy 
 nobleman very justly reproached the woman 
 with her dishonesty and ingratitude, remindino- 
 her that she would have received a sackful of 
 turnips had she asked for it in a proper way, 
 instead of stealing his favourites. The woman 
 silently courtesied at every sentence, and con- 
 fessed her offence, but pleaded her large family. 
 The good man was at last mollified, and was 
 leaving the field, when the woman, who had 
 dropped her prize on his lordship's first accosting 
 her, and was now with difficulty endeavouring 
 to lift it on her back again, called to him, " O, 
 my lord, my lord, do ye gi'e me a haund and 
 help the poke on my back, for it's unco heavy, 
 and I canna get it up by mysel." Thus she 
 bespoke the earl, who actually turned back, and 
 did assist the woman to load herself with the 
 stolen turnips ! 
 
 3. — I am ill in body and in mind ; I have but 
 one resource, and that is in the confession of the 
 penitent people of Israel. 
 
 May He who knows my distress be pleased, 
 in his infinite goodness, to cause that in this 
 severe chastisement I may find the means of 
 spiritual improvement, and may hereafter meet 
 with the peaceable fruit that his word promises 
 to those who are exercised thereby. 
 
 4. — The late pious John Newton was once 
 told by an obstinate Unitarian, who proceeded 
 
 p 2 
 
^28 DIARY. 
 
 in his inquiries on their precious principle, that 
 we are not required to beheve what we cannot 
 understand, that he had read the New Tes- 
 tament, but could find there no proof of the 
 doctrine of the Trinity. Newton knew to 
 whom he was talking, and answered by say- 
 ing, " Do you know what happened to me last 
 night?" *' Well," said his opponent, "what?" 
 *' Why," said Newton, " when I was going to my 
 room last night, I wondered what ailed my 
 candle, that I could not light it, and on ex- 
 amination, I found that I had been attempting 
 to light it with the extinguisher on." 
 
 d. — A Jacobite surgeon, who escaped from the 
 battle of Culloden, settled for several years in 
 England — where he gained by his profession a 
 sufficiency to retire and spend his latter days in 
 his own country. He preserved his political 
 principles to the last, and often used to tell of his 
 practice in England with exultation, and say, 
 *' The Hanoverian rogues — aye, aye, I revenged 
 Culloden upon them." 
 
 The great moral satirist Hogarth was once 
 drawing in a room where many of his friends 
 were assembled, and among them my mother — she 
 was then a very young woman. As she stood by 
 Hogarth, she expressed a wish to learn to draw 
 caricature. *' Alas, young lady," said Hogarth, 
 " it is not a faculty to be envied. Take my ad- 
 
D I A R Y. 229 
 
 vice, and never draw caricature — by the long 
 practice of it, I have lost the enjoyment of 
 beauty. I never see a face but distorted ; I 
 never have the satisfaction to behold the human 
 face divine." We may suppose that such lan- 
 guage from Hogarth would come with great 
 effect — his manner was very earnest, and the 
 confession is well deserving of remembrance. 
 
 8. — Nothing was ever more excellent and dig- 
 nified than the reception which our late good 
 king gave to the American ambassador, (Mr 
 Adams) after the declaration of the independence 
 of the United States. When Mr Adams was 
 presented, the king said to him, *' Sir, I was the 
 last man in my kingdom to agree to the indepen- 
 dence of the American states : and you may 
 depend upon me, that 1 shall also be the last man 
 in my kingdom to consent to the violation of 
 that independence." Adams was so much over- 
 powered by the delicacy as well as the magna- 
 nimity of the king, that he could with difficulty 
 restrain his tears ; and bowing deeply and rev- 
 erently, retired without a word. He told a friend 
 afterwards, that he could not speak, he was quite 
 overpowered. 
 
 9. — The late Skelton, author of *' Deism Re- 
 vealed," was not less remarkable for his kind and 
 liberal disposition, than for learning and talents. 
 In his parish there was a small congregation of 
 Dissenters, to whose minister Skelton showed 
 
230 DIARY. 
 
 great good will. He frequently asked him to his 
 table ; and always called him brother. One day 
 when they were dining together, Skelton said to 
 him, " Brother, it were well that you and I should 
 show our congregations our regard for each other 
 publicly. Now, you know, I cannot ask you to 
 preach for me, but there is no law against my 
 preaching for you ; so I will preach at your 
 meeting house to-morrow." The good man 
 was delighted, and Skelton preached — but the 
 consequence was, that half the cHssenters left 
 their meeting house and went to church : and 
 such was their preference of Skelton's preaching, 
 that the poor minister was soon left without a 
 congregation. Skelton called on him — " Brother," 
 he said, *' what did your people pay you ?" " Fifty 
 pounds a year." " Come away with me." He 
 took his friend to an attorney, and settled fifty 
 pounds on him for life ! This was told me by 
 my mother, who knew Skelton. 
 
 I am taking some pains to instruct others, and 
 have been long instructing myself in the Hebrew 
 language, under a vain notion that a knowledge 
 of the original language of Holy Scripture is 
 necessary to enable a man to expound it — but I 
 am mistaken ; a young man, apparently of mean 
 rank, called on me to inquire how he might ob- 
 tain orders in the church of England. Instead of 
 shutting his mouth with a title^ I was silly enough 
 to talk with him ; and I ventured to suggest 
 
DIARY. 231 
 
 the necessity of some learning to enable him to 
 do his duty, as he acknowledged he read neither 
 Greek nor Latin. — He answered with somewhat 
 of contempt, " You seem to know little of spir- 
 itual religion. — Where the Spirit instructs we 
 want no Greek and Latin." — He gave me to un- 
 derstand he was all but actually inspired. Such 
 is an enthusiast. 
 
 When the late Archbishop Markham was ex- 
 amined for deacon's orders, he was questioned, 
 as was then the custom, in Latin. — The chaplain 
 who examined was not very able as a scholar. — 
 The first question that he asked was, Quis fuit 
 primus diaconus 9 Markham answered, StephdnuSj 
 sed Stephdnus fuit primus diaconus. The chap- 
 lain was frightened, and went to the bishop, 
 to whom he wished to consign the examinand, 
 saying, *' Sir, here is a youth whom I wish your 
 lordship would undertake to examine yourself; 
 he is too much for me, he found me out in a 
 false quantity at the first word." This was what 
 Markham wanted, for he was affronted at being 
 turned over to a chaplain. 
 
 When the great Bentley, afterwards so dis- 
 tinguished, was examined for deacon's orders, 
 he expected that the bishop would himself ex- 
 amine him ; and his displeasure at what he con- 
 sidered neglect, he vented in such answers as 
 the following : 
 
232 DIARY. 
 
 Chaplain. Quid est fides ? 
 
 Bentley. Quod non vides. 
 
 C Quid est spes ? 
 
 jB— — Quod non habes. 
 
 C Quid est charitas ? 
 
 B Maxima raritas. 
 
 This is said to have been enough to satisfy the 
 chaplain, who took the rhymer to the bishop. 
 
 21, Fourth Sunday before Advent I preached 
 
 with much difficulty. The subject of my sermon 
 was the history of St Thomas, with a particular 
 reference to the gospel of the day, and the answer 
 of Jesus " describing the faith of such as do not 
 see, yet believe." Bp Horsley has written two 
 admirable discourses on the faith of St Thomas. 
 
 25, Christmas day, — communicants three hun- 
 dred. I do not think that I ever was so much 
 fatigued as I was with the duty of this day. 
 
 31 — My dear E returned for a day or 
 
 two ; I thank God that I close this year, through 
 his unspeakable goodness, with such prospects of 
 happiness for one of the best of sons. May the 
 blessing of him who has promised his mercy to 
 those who observe his fifth commandment, ever 
 attend my dear and excellent E . 
 
 1829, January 1. — Began this year, as usual, in 
 the house of God, and humbly I implore, that his 
 blessing, which has been so marvellously bestowed 
 on me and mine, may still continue with us, for 
 
DIARY. (233 
 
 his sake in whom alone I dare approach the 
 throne of mercy. 
 
 6 I have been much agitated about my dear 
 
 grandson — but by the great mercy of Almighty 
 God he appears to be better this morning. His 
 pious and excellent father made me very happy 
 by his account of the state of the dear boy's mind. 
 Such is, through the Divine blessing, the result of 
 bringing up in the fear of the Lord : but all is 
 in the hands of Him, whose thoughts are not as 
 our thoughts, nor his ways as our ways. 
 
 9. — The Hebrew class as usual. One of my 
 young friends, who bids fair to be a good He- 
 brean, had got into the lazy habit of writing He- 
 brew like English, and beginning the word back- 
 wards- I mentioned to him the mischief which 
 I had myself in my early days of Hebrew study 
 suffered from the practice, and I hope that he 
 will be secured from giving way to it. 
 
 Mr Cerf, a PoHsh Jew, was introduced to me 
 
 by . I cannot understand his English, still 
 
 less his French, and not at all his German. — He 
 tells me that he is convinced that Jesus is the 
 Messiah — ^but he wants more proof. I have lent 
 him " Leslie's Short Method," and that I think 
 will satisfy him. 
 
 While talking with to-day of the metapliy- 
 
 sical poetry of George Herbert, &c. I mentioned 
 the very splendid passage of Cowley's prose 
 in his discourse on the character of O. Crom- 
 well. I was not surprised to find that it was new 
 
234 DIARY. 
 
 to , for it was new to me many years since. 
 
 Sir first pointed it out, and I have since 
 
 met with many well read men who were not 
 acquainted with it. It begins, "For what can be 
 more extraordinary than that a person of mean 
 birth," &c. &c. I do not know any passage of 
 pure English more worth attention. It would, I 
 think, look well in Latin. 
 
 24. — I hear that has " gone to her rest," 
 
 the beautiful and truly christian expression in 
 which it is the manner of the lower orders to 
 describe the awful change from time to eternity. 
 May the peace which is of God be hers ! — 
 These lessons come home. I am older — yet I am 
 spared, mn^ ^33n. 
 
 Countersigned testimonials, the young man 
 
 who was frightened at Hebrew. I dare say he 
 will pass his examination for orders with credit, 
 although he knows no more of Hebrew than I did 
 when I was examined for my B. A. at Oxford, 
 and was asked, " Quot liters apud Hebraeos ?'* 
 " Viginti et duo." " Optime," said the examining 
 master, " Satis est ! !" 
 
 26. — T. L. is recovering, but it hath pleased 
 the Almighty that another of my dear grand- 
 children should be attacked with this epidemic, 
 and this is the day, perhaps the hour, of crisis. 
 I know not what to pray, but in these words, 
 " Not as I wish, but as thou wilt." Anxious and 
 awful is the suspense. 
 
 27. — The crisis hath taken place ! and it hath 
 
DIARY. 235 
 
 been the will of God to remove our dear James 
 to eternal blessedness. Of this no Christian can 
 doubt. May it please Him who ordereth all 
 things, and who can alone guide our hearts, to 
 sanctify this visitation to us, that it may be 
 blessed to us, as an instrument to draw us 
 nearer to him, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
 Amen. 
 
 28. — Our dear mourners are in a truly chris- 
 tian frame of mind. May the grace and blessing 
 of Almighty God continue with them ; and may 
 he, in his mercy, sanctify this visitation to us all. 
 Many mourners are there at this awful time. 
 In one house a mother, and daughter of eighteen, 
 are departed, and another daughter is still in 
 danger, and the husband and father ill also. 
 
 ^ii^^72 Michael, who is like unto God. This 
 name is very remarkable. There appears to be no 
 doubt that the archangel Michael, is, indeed. He 
 who was in the beginning with God, and was 
 God ; Bishop Horsley supports this notion, with 
 his usual sagacity and vigour, I think in his ser- 
 mon on the Watchers and the Holy Ones. 
 
 31. — Read the funeral service for the burial 
 of my beloved grandson, and attended the in- 
 humation, in the hope which we have as an 
 anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, 
 and which entereth within the veil. For ever 
 blessed be thy Holy name, O Father of mer- 
 cies, who didst send forth thy Son, our holy 
 Redeemer, through whom the sting is taken 
 
236 DIARY. 
 
 from death, and the grave despoiled of its vic- 
 tory ! 
 
 " It is the heaviest stone," says the amiable Sir 
 Thomas Browne, " that melancholy can throw at 
 a man, to tell him he is at the end of his nature ; 
 or that there is no farther state to come, unto 
 which this seems progressioned, and otherwise 
 made in vain." The Christian faith leaves no 
 room for this miserable anticipation. " We shall 
 not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, — 
 the dead shall rise incorruptible, and we shall be 
 changed." Such is the comfortable declaration of 
 eternal truth through Jesus Christ our Lord, — 
 Himself the first fruits of them that rose from the 
 dead. He hath opened the gate of everlasting 
 life to mankind, and when we leave this world 
 we know assuredly that we shall rise again. 
 
 February 1 A cold which I caught, as I al- 
 ways do, by the melancholy duties yesterday, 
 has kept me at home very ill. 
 
 It is an ennobling and awakening consideration, 
 that in a certain measure, even to those in whom 
 the work of eternal life is but begun, may be 
 applied the animating words of St Paul, " Ye are 
 come unto Mount Sion, and unto the city of the 
 living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an 
 innumerable company of angels," &c. Hebrews 
 xii. 22 — 24. 
 
 This is the most glorious anticipation which can 
 fill the mind of the Christian. In proportion to the 
 strength of this persuasion, must be the comfort 
 with which the spirit struggles with the streams 
 
DIARY. 237 
 
 of the Jordan, whicli must be passed before we 
 arrive at the land of promise. 
 
 2 This has been a very bad day with me, 
 
 nee corpore, nee mente sanus. But it is the 
 Lord, let him do what seemeth him good. 
 
 I am reading Watts' sermons seriously ; may 
 the blessing of God be with me in the study. 
 
 12. — It has pleased the Almighty Disposer of 
 the universe to visit us with a fresh trial, — our 
 dear Henry has closely followed his beloved 
 brother ! I do not trust myself to express the 
 deepness of my sorrow, and of my sympathy with 
 the dear parents of these sweet children. I am 
 particularly comforted under a trial, which is 
 severer to me than will ever be supposed, by 
 their truly Christian submission to a very severe 
 trial. Two more engaging and promising chil- 
 dren I never knew. The Lord gave, and the 
 Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of 
 the Lord. 
 
 15. — Job ii. 9. ^riTDi n'^riha 112. Why these words 
 should have been rendered, " Curse God, and 
 die," appears very unaccountable. There seems 
 to be no objection to considering the words *]-in 
 and riD as participles Benoni, and to translating 
 them as Parkhurst does, " Blessing God, and 
 dying." The previous words are translated as 
 a question in^nn p^)n72 inp " Still art thou perse- 
 vering in thy rectitude ? Blessing God, and per- 
 ishing ?" 
 
 It is very common to omit the 1 in both par- 
 
238 DIARY. 
 
 ticiples, and therefore i-in and r)72 may, without 
 any violence, be considered such ; and this at least 
 preserves the reading from the unintelligible ap- 
 pearance which it bears in our authorised version. 
 What induced our translators to render the 4th 
 verse of the Ixxix Psalm in the Prayer Book, "We 
 are become an open shame to our enemies f 
 The Hebrew is iD'^^Dtf'? which is rightly translated 
 in the Bible version, *' to those round about us." 
 — In the LXX roTg yeiroffiv. Is it possible that 
 they read D^KStyV. This reading is not noticed that 
 I can find. 
 
 13. — I had a visit yesterday from a gentleman 
 in search of a register of his own baptism in the 
 year 1800. His name was not found in my 
 register, but it had a place in my recollection, 
 for I remember his grandmother well. She was 
 a frequent visitor of my excellent mother. She 
 lived in Brock-street, Bath. The gentleman re- 
 cognised Brock-street as the place of his grand- 
 mother's residence ; but as she has been dead 
 many years, he could not apply to her to confirm 
 my recollections. I hardly know why ; but I 
 looked on the young man, all he-mustachiod as 
 he was, with good will, as related to persons and 
 scenes of happy and innocent remembrance. 
 
 April 3. — Went with to a shop in 
 
 Waterloo-place, where I left them, and they 
 promised to meet me at the Exhibition, whither 
 I went accordingly ; but after remaining there 
 half an hour, I found that these faithless women. 
 
DIARY. 239 
 
 like the rest of their sect (some say sex), had 
 led me into a disappointment. I returned 
 home alone, remembering what has been long 
 ago said by the poet (Euripides, I think), that 
 the promises of women are written in water, 
 never to be trusted but in a hard frost, or when 
 they hope to get something from you ! 
 
 18. — Preparing for my excursion to Chilling- 
 ham. 
 
 19. — Reached my dear son's house in the 
 evening. I am quite delighted with the vicarage. 
 
 29. — From the Sunday evening until this date 
 I was confined almost to my bed, and wholly to 
 my two rooms by illness. It is a happiness to 
 me to find my dear son is well off in a medical 
 adviser. This is a matter also of great conse- 
 quence to me, who hope to be much here while 
 
 J is here. May God bless him and his dear 
 
 wife and children ! Had my health been good 
 I should set down these few days among the 
 
 happiest in my life. Dear is a perfect 
 
 blessing to me : I am delighted with him and all 
 about him. 
 
 June 5. — Left this dear place and its most 
 beloved inhabitants, and reached home much 
 fatigued. 
 
 14. — I preached in the forenoon on Heb. ix. 
 14. A fresh argument against the human origin 
 of sacrifice arises from the comparison in this 
 text and the context. 
 
240 DIARY. 
 
 26. — Preparations for my voyage. 
 
 27- — Embarked. 
 
 28. — Very ill with the rough weather all day. 
 
 29 Now, as I am writing, we are some way 
 
 up the Thames against tide, in hopes of landing 
 by eight, p. m. — which we succeeded in, and by 
 
 the kind provision of our dear reached 
 
 happily the end of our journey. 
 
 July 1. — Per immeritam, omnino, eheu, im- 
 meritam Dei bonitatem, sexagesimus et quartus 
 annus vitae meae hodie auspicatur. Concedas, 
 obsecro, O Deus, ut reliquam vitae partem ita, 
 Tua gratia subveniente, transigam, ut per merita 
 Domini nostri et Salvatoris, praeteritorum con- 
 donationem obtineam ! , ' 
 
 14. — Read ii. and iii. of St John. The evan- 
 gelist says of the miracle at Cana, that " Jesus 
 manifested his glory, and that his disciples be- 
 lieved on him." The holy writer cannot express 
 himself thus without reason ; I consider, there- 
 fore, that he designed to show, that although, 
 from the declaration of St John the Baptist, and 
 from their own observation, they had become 
 satisfied that Jesus was, indeed, he of whom 
 Moses and the prophets did write, yet their con- 
 viction had not amounted to that which is pro- 
 perly termed faith, until they saw this miracu- 
 lous testimony to his character. And Nicodemus 
 justly tells us in the next chapter, that this power 
 of working miracles, was the expected and most 
 forcible demonstration of his commission from 
 
DIARY. 241 
 
 God. This appears to be the natural progress 
 of the understanding, and confirms what I have 
 always thought, namely, that the lower orders 
 are, in fact, much less credulous than we gene- 
 rally consider them. 
 
 15. — A fine day in spite of St Swithun. St 
 Martin was worse behaved. The alteration of 
 style leaves us at the mercy of each of these 
 worthies. If we escape St Martin, we suffer by 
 St Swithun, and vice versa. This is rather cruel. 
 But Popish saints are not likely to be kind, even 
 after Catholic emancipation, to such inveterate 
 Protestants. 
 
 17. — The greatest moral evil and suffering 
 that we can be exposed to is the being forsaken 
 of God, — the being cast out of his presence. 
 This, with awe be it spoken, appears to have 
 made part of our Lord's suffering when he cried 
 with a loud voice, " My God, my God, why 
 hast thou forsaken me ?" Yet this state of spi- 
 ritual dereliction is voluntarily embraced by those 
 who, according to the emphatic language of 
 Holy Scripture, live without God in the world. 
 
 The words of Almighty mercy in the follow- 
 ing passage of the 50th Psalm contain a precept, 
 and a promise, which I would willingly, indeed, 
 and most earnestly apply to myself: Ps. 1. 15. — 
 Help me, O Father of mercies, to call on thee 
 acceptably, through our blessed Intercessor. Pre- 
 pare my heart, and let thine ear incline unto my 
 supplication. 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
242 DIARY. 
 
 I have undesignedly left a blank page ; but 
 blank it shall not continue, if I am permitted to 
 fill it. I say permitted : Darwin was cut off in 
 the middle of a sentence in a letter to his friend 
 Edgeworth, in which he was proposing a visit 
 to him, and laying out time which was not his 
 own ! Let me take warning. Something most 
 important to my spiritual welfare, as well per- 
 haps, as temporal, seems to be at hand. May 
 God Almighty grant, that though he may purge 
 me with hyssop, though the correction b.e most 
 severe, I may be made clean. The chastening 
 hand is upon me, may it be for good ! 
 
 There is an old proverb, "it is a long lane 
 which hath no turning." I am apt to remember 
 this proverb, and to derive some comfort from 
 it. I cannot believe that my present trial will 
 last much longer ; but I pray for submission to 
 Him who knoweth what is best for me. I need 
 correction, and I should bless the hand which 
 administers it ; for I remember the words of the 
 apostle, Heb. xii. 11. May I be found among 
 those who are exercised, and then shall I taste 
 the fruit of righteousness. 
 
 20. — Oh that He who knoweth my heart 
 would bring me unto him ! 
 
 23. — In the second lesson this morning, the 
 xi. of St John's gospel — the affection of Thomas 
 for our blessed Lord is very striking. He was, 
 as is proved by the little said of him, a man of 
 
DIARY. 243 
 
 rather slow capacity : such men are often diffi- 
 cult to be persuaded of facts which others may 
 consider very probable and credible ; and we 
 know this was, remarkably, the case with 
 Thomas. But the same description of men are 
 also very steady in their attachments ; and this 
 is beautifully shown in Thomas. When Jesus 
 expressed his resolution to visit Lazarus, not- 
 withstanding the violence of the Jews, Thomas 
 said, "Let us also go, that we may die with 
 him." This is very touching. *' We cannot 
 defend our master against such powerful enemies, 
 but we can testify our zeal and our attachment 
 by adhering to him to the last. We cannot 
 resist the power of the Jews, but we can die 
 with our Lord." 
 
 I make it my earnest prayer to Almighty God, 
 that whatever he may see fitting to make my 
 trial, I may be enabled to cast all my care on 
 him. I would humbly address to Almighty 
 Wisdom and Power the supplication of the col- 
 lect for the eighth Sunday after Trinity, leaving 
 it to Him to judge what is profitable for me, and 
 what is hurtful. This most truly Christian 
 prayer sets before us our duty in the most af- 
 fecting and instructive manner. 
 
 26. — I read to the family this evening a ser- 
 mon of . It is a good composition ; but 
 
 so meagre in all that might interest a poor sin- 
 ner desirous of wholesome truth to comfort 
 and direct, that, in fact, I felt my time lost in 
 q2 
 
244 DIARY. 
 
 reading, my lungs exercised to no purpose in 
 speaking, and the attention of my hearers wasted 
 in hstening to a discussion which could do no 
 good. It will be useful to myself, if it please 
 God that I should preach any more, to find that 
 nothing can be of any use that has not Jesus 
 Christ for its basis, and that does not draw us 
 nearer to him. 
 
 August 2, Seventh Sunday after Trinity. — The 
 collects for this week and the next are nearly a 
 summary of Christian duties and feelings. In 
 the former we implore the Author of all spiri- 
 tual good, to bestow on us the powers whereby 
 we are alone enabled to perform our duty, and 
 to uphold us in the path of righteousness and 
 obedience : in the latter, we are instructed with 
 humility and faith to commit ourselves, body 
 and soul, to the dkection of Him, who alone 
 knows unerringly what is really profitable, and 
 what may be really hurtful to us. 
 
 In my present trouble I can find ease and 
 support in nothing but following the direction 
 of the holy Apostle, 1 Peter v. 8, and in 
 praying for the faith and submission taught in 
 the collect for the eighth Sunday after Trinity, 
 and in which we are encouraged by the word 
 of God in the 50th psalm, ver. 15. 
 
 3. — I can conceive such a perfect union of the 
 Christian's soul with the will of God, as to be 
 perfectly reconciled to suffering. This I con- 
 sider one of the highest attainments of the 
 
DIARY. 245 
 
 spiritual life ; I may truly call it the highest 
 attainment, for, were we once such, we should be 
 entirely free from the dominion of sin, and even 
 in the sad case of suffering in consequence of 
 sin, the heart thus subdued to the will of God 
 would be necessarily in a state pleasing to Him, 
 and therefore happy. 
 
 . 4. — Rose with an humble prayer to Him who 
 knows my affliction, that he would through his 
 merciful grace enable me to use it rightly. 
 
 " Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall 
 make you free." That knowledge of which our 
 Lord here spake was a knowledge which would 
 produce a clearer acquaintance with the law of 
 God, — draw us more surely to love and obey 
 the will of God, and therefore, " constrain us, 
 only by the love of God and Christ." 
 
 September 1. — When I read in the papers that 
 such a man after sentence of death behaved 
 himself with great propriety, and began to pre- 
 pare himself for his departure, it must come 
 into the mind, that we are all of us offenders 
 under sentence of death, and that as we do not 
 know when this sentence will be executed, it is 
 great folly and presumption not to prepare 
 ourselves also, for an event at the same time 
 certain and uncertain : certain that it will hap- 
 pen, uncertain when it will please God that it 
 shall happen. But the Christian, for our blessed 
 Redeemer's sake, is permitted to consider death. 
 
246 DIARY. 
 
 not so much the punishment of sin, for to the be- 
 Heving Christian his sin is forgiven for the sake 
 of Christ, as the entrance into everlasting feU- 
 city. It is in this confidence that the Apostle 
 declares, " we had rather be absent from the 
 body and present with the Lord ;" — to have this 
 sentiment really effective in the heart, I consider 
 the fullest perfection of the Christian character. 
 See that most delightful and edifying exposition 
 of the Christian system in the 5th chap, of the 
 2 Epist. to the Corinthians. 
 
 2. — Very poorly all day ; I grew much worse 
 towards night. 
 
 3. — The night past awfully, — in pain and 
 tossing. 
 
 4. — Rather better, but in pain. 
 
 6, Twelfth Sunday after Trinity. — I had a bad 
 night. I was afraid to attend the distant cha- 
 pel. 
 
 I had some pleasant conversation with 
 
 after dinner. Nothing, no, nothing delights me 
 like this interchange of mind with such pleasing 
 
 friends as dear and my other beloved sons 
 
 and sons-in-law. They will never know how I 
 love and value them. 
 
 9. — Very poorly; at night in most serious 
 pain indeed. After many hours of most severe 
 distress, I at last gained some ease ; for which, 
 praise the Lord, O my soul, and all that is 
 within me bless his holy name. 
 
DIARY. 247 
 
 When on bed of pain I lie 
 Tlirough the night with waking eye, 
 And to Thee for help I cry, 
 
 Hear me, O Lord ! 
 
 Thy kind mercy flies apace, 
 Hide not from me then thy face ; 
 Aid my weakness with thy grace. 
 And hear me, Lord 1 
 
 When my nature lies opprest. 
 And to thee I sue for rest. 
 Think not scorn of my request. 
 But hear me. Lord ! 
 
 When to thee, through Chi-ist, I pray 
 That thy dealings day by day 
 May advance me on thy way, 
 Heai- me, O Lord I 
 
 Taught by thy beloved Son, 
 All impatience may I shun, — 
 Not my will, but thine, be done, 
 Thy will, O Lord 1 
 
 In this world of good and ill. 
 Thus may I, obedient still, 
 Strive my duty to fulfil ; 
 
 And accept me. Lord ! 
 
 Then at the tremendous hour, 
 When the enemy hath power. 
 And the shades of death do lour, 
 Hear me, O Lord I 
 
 When the debt of sin I pay. 
 And the spirit flits away 
 From its falling house of clay, 
 Hear me, O Lord ! 
 
248 DIARY. 
 
 When at last I sink beneath 
 The resistless stroke of death, 
 Let me with my latest breath 
 
 Praise thee, O Lord I 
 
 [As a specimen of the Bishop's powers of 
 versification on Hghter topics, a Uttle poem is 
 here inserted, which he composed while on a 
 visit at Harcus Cottage, the residence of an 
 intimate and most valued friend : the verses 
 themselves will explain the circumstance which 
 gave rise to them.] 
 
 THE SPRITE'S VISIT. 
 
 I SCARCE had laid me down to rest 
 When Jaspar's * Sprites my couch infest ; 
 One twitched my ear, one pulled my arm — 
 " Nay, my good sir, we mean no harm ; 
 We wish but gently to remind you 
 Of certain claims that fairly bind you." 
 
 '* And what are these ?" I straight replied, 
 To one who just had pinched my side. 
 " But look about," the spirits said, 
 " And see what stands beside your bed. 
 Pray who has thus adorned your room ? 
 Where got you all that rich perfume ? 
 While all is chilled with this East wind. 
 And scarce a floweret we can find, 
 Your table shows a sight as gay 
 As can be seen on summer day." 
 
 " Those flowers to kindest friends I owe, — 
 (I wish you would not jjlague me so,) 
 
 * See Madame D'Aiblay's Wanderer. 
 
DIARY. '249 
 
 And straightway I shall let them hear, 
 Their gift how sweet to me, how dear." 
 
 " You must do more," said fairy voice, 
 
 " Or else be pinched, so take your choice." 
 
 " Do what ?" said I. " Wliy court the muse, 
 
 She will not sure her help refuse ; 
 
 But aid you with an humble lay, 
 
 The kindly present to repay." 
 
 " The muse, — alas ! these ladies nine 
 Are slight acquaintances of mine ; 
 They seldom deign to call my way ; 
 And when they do, they will not stay, 
 They give no time to ask a boon, — 
 I bow, they courtesy — and are gone." 
 
 " Come, come, good sir, we part not so. 
 You must obey, and that you know ; 
 So pray sit up, get pen and ink. 
 And write before you sleep a wink. 
 You're dull, we see, so for this time. 
 We'll find the subject, you find rhyme. 
 
 " You've often read, we must presume. 
 The story's told by David Hume, 
 How the Pope sent to English John, 
 Four rings of gold with precious stone ; 
 The sapphu-e, em'rald, ruby there. 
 And topaz bright of yellow glare ; 
 And by the story you're apprized. 
 Of what those stones emblematized. 
 Now prithee. Sir, the^e flowers behold, 
 And surely you need not be told. 
 That you may learn as well from them, 
 Whate'er was taught by precious gem ; 
 For here the ruby's lively red, 
 Shows the geranium's beauteous head ; 
 
250 DIARY. 
 
 Here is the ray of em'rald sheen 
 Match'd by the myrtle's vivid green ; 
 And seems the violet's lovely blue, 
 Like sapphire of celestial hue ; 
 While the gay jonquil's yellow bright, 
 Beams with the topaz' golden light." 
 
 " Stop, stop, good sprites, I need no more, 
 Nor call the Muses to my door, 
 I am not quite so dull of head, 
 As not to know that what you've said 
 Is not of gems, or flowerets meant. 
 But qualities they represent. 
 You bid me thus in gi-ateful verse. 
 The praises of my friends rehearse ; 
 Those emblematic tints display. 
 The proper subjects of my lay ; 
 And the bright blossoms seem to tell. 
 The virtues which at Harcus dwell. 
 
 "But, my dear fairies, much I fear, 
 
 Such tribute would ofl'end their ear ; 
 
 For merit true we always find 
 
 To its own praises disinclined. 
 
 So to obtain release from you. 
 
 And satisfy my feelings too. 
 
 We'll change this lang-uage, if you please, 
 
 Into good wishes, such as these. 
 
 " May those bright powers which quaint monks view, 
 
 In em'rald gem, and sapphire blue, 
 
 O'er my kind friends exert their force. 
 
 And guide them in their earthly course ; 
 
 And may they, when transplanted hence, 
 
 Meet Faith and Hope's glad recompense ! 
 
 The ruby's lively hues, they say, 
 
 Do gracious Charity portray ; 
 
DIARY. 25 1 
 
 Tl)e topaz doth an emblem prove, 
 Of the kind deeds of peace and love. 
 Long, long may these their choicest store. 
 Of blessings upon Harcus pour ; 
 And give its inmates long to know, 
 The truest bliss of man below. 
 Health, friends, tranquillity, content, 
 And conscience of their lives well spent, 
 May," — " Hold, enough," the spirits said, 
 " For this night you have saved your head." 
 
 D. S. 1814. 
 
 12. — Left our dear friends and embarked on 
 board the Soho, at six P. M. and landed, by the 
 blessing of God, at Newhaven, on Tuesday the 
 15th, at twelve. 
 
 26, Saturday. — Left Edinburgh with my dear 
 wife and son, and after a prosperous journey 
 reached our haven at Chillingham, all well. 
 
 27. — Preached in the forenoon in Chillingham 
 Church, which is greatly improved, and is now a 
 very neat little parish temple. 
 
 October 16. — Confirmed in the Chapel at 
 Kelso 14. 
 
 17. — Returned home. 
 
 November 18. — Very ill for some days. 
 
 26. — I am by God's goodness to me somewhat 
 better, and have spirits to begin a sermon for 
 next Sunday, on Iv. of Isaiah, 7th verse. 
 
 27. — I gave Miss H Southey's Colloquies 
 
 to read, especially that part of the 2d vohmie in 
 
252 DIARY. 
 
 which he treats of Bequiiiage. I cannot see why 
 something of the kind might not be tried here. 
 It appears to me that on lady Carnegy's school 
 something might be engrafted, so as to produce 
 able and willing nurses for the sick poor. 
 
 December 5 How much I desire to pray 
 
 with the Publican and with the beseeching father, 
 "Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief." 
 May this supplication be heard at the throne of 
 grace ! 
 
 6, Second Sunday in Advent. — I waked after 
 a short and confused sleep, so ill, that I was 
 
 obliged to ask my dear C to supply my 
 
 place at the altar. I have liad a most suffering 
 day. May God, for Christ's sake, look on me in 
 pity, — ^yet who am I to ask such mercy ? yet the 
 deeper my humiliation, I trust for my Redeemer's 
 sake, the sooner will it reach the throne of grace. 
 I have no prayer but the prayer of the Publican, 
 — may that prayer be heard. I was unable to do 
 more than read a few verses, and say a few 
 words, and offer a short prayer with my family, 
 and dismiss them to, I trust, better rest than I 
 hope for. 
 
 7. — After such a night as I expected, I rose 
 very poorly. 
 
 9. — I have read nearly the whole of the first vol. 
 of Calamy's Life. He introduces occasionally some 
 mention of the Socinians. I do not know whether 
 it is worth while to set down a thought which has 
 
DIARY. Q53 
 
 come into my mind on this subject. It is this, 
 that there are numberless passages in Sacred 
 Scripture, which assert the Divine nature of our 
 blessed Redeemer, in a manner utterly incompat- 
 ible with his being a mere man, but there are 
 none which assert his manhood in a manner in- 
 consistent with his Divinity. The Socinians can- 
 not, with all their ungrammatical pains, destroy 
 the force of the first set of passages. 
 
 17. — Wrote an acknowledgment of the atten- 
 tion of the vestry, about the allotment of the 
 burial ground. God grant that I may be fit to 
 occupy it. Oh! I would surrender myself to 
 Him, I would humble myself under the mighty 
 hand of God. Have mercy, O Lord, on a mis- 
 erable sinner, and give me the grace of that holy 
 sorrow which worketh repentance unto salva- 
 tion. 
 
 Fourth Sunday in Advent. — Preached in the 
 forenoon, and returned home much exhausted. 
 There was a collection for the Senior Female 
 Society. I preached on Hebrews xi. 16. and at 
 the conclusion of my sermon took notice of the 
 charity. 
 
 25, Christmas day Communicants 294. After 
 
 my return home I was taken very ill, and passed 
 the rest of the day, not in the enjoyment of my 
 family, but in bed. 
 
 Sunday after Christmas day. — Preached in the 
 forenoon, Deuteronomy xxxii. 29. a sermon for 
 the conclusion of the year. 
 
254i DIARY. 
 
 When the fight of gi'ace is fought ; — 
 When the marriage vest is wrought ; — 
 When faith hath chased cohl doubt away, 
 And hope but sickens at delay ; 
 
 When Charity, imprison'd here, 
 Longs for a more expanded sphere. 
 Doff thy robes of sin and clay ; 
 Christian ! rise, and come away ! 
 
 Awkward and slight as these Hues may be, 
 they direct the mind to the contemplation of that 
 state most of all to be desired and envied, when 
 the servant of Christ, his period of trial and dis- 
 cipline drawing to a close, is permitted to under- 
 stand and adopt the holy words of the apostle, 
 (2 Cor. V.) " We are confident, and willing rather 
 to be absent from the body and present with the 
 Lord." It is said by the same holy writer, that 
 through Christ we are delivered from that fear, 
 which keepeth the natural man in bondage — the 
 fear of death, Heb. ii. But these lines express 
 more than this mere deliverance, — they delineate, 
 roughly, the feelings of a soul far above that 
 "fear," awakened to a sentiment of glory and 
 happiness reserved for such as fall asleep in Jesus. 
 The discipline of God's grace, through the Holy 
 Spirit which hath sealed the Christian unto the 
 day of redemption, hath overcome the enemy j 
 he now lingereth no longer attracted by things 
 here, and already anticipates the blessings to the 
 experience of which he is approaching! The 
 Wedding Garment is put on ! 
 
DIARY. 9,55 
 
 Happy ! blessed Son of Faith ! thou art no 
 longer crippled in thy path with the cold doubts 
 of natural weakness : these are at an end — thou 
 art approaching to that fruition, which Hope hath 
 taught thee to expect and long for ! Thou art 
 under the blessed influence of the grace which is 
 the sublimest excellence of Christ's religion, inas- 
 much as it maketh Christians like unto their Mas- 
 ter, — unto him, whose charity was not satisfied 
 until he had laid down his life for us. Thou art 
 instructed to desire the society of just men made 
 perfect, of every clime, and nation, and degree. 
 These are ready to welcome thee to the joy of 
 thy Lord, to the heavenly Jerusalem, to the 
 house not made with hands, and thou, by the 
 support of the Holy Spirit, with the blessing of 
 thy God art ready to say, so come Lord Jesus ! — 
 Amen, Amen. 
 
 The Diary ends here. 
 
LETTERS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
LETTERS 
 
 HIS SONS DURING THEIR EDUCATION. 
 
 Edinburgh, October 22, 1813. 
 
 My dear D , 
 
 I am much pleased with the account 
 you give me of your kind reception at Runcorn, 
 and hope, that by your own diHgence and good 
 conduct, you will merit the continuance of your 
 god-father's instructions. On many accounts 
 your removal into Cheshire, this winter, will, I 
 hope, be very much to your advantage. My 
 constant employment would have prevented me 
 from attending to you, and without daily atten- 
 tion, at this critical period, you could make no 
 progress in Greek. Under Mr Keyt, I trust your 
 progress will be equally creditable to him and 
 yourself ; he used to be a sound scholar, and it 
 would be strange to suppose, that the added 
 experience of twenty years had impaired his 
 knowledge or his powers of communication. In 
 this important point therefore, you are at present 
 within reach of all that I could wish for you, 
 and it remains for you to make a good use of 
 the opportunity. 
 
 r2 
 
260 LETTERS. 
 
 I am surprised to find Mr Keyt use Moore's 
 Grammar. As far as mere accidence goes, I think 
 Moore's plan certainly excellent ; his third de- 
 clension is admirable, but the Grammar is only a 
 fragment, and much indeed falls to be supplied 
 from the viva vox of the teacher, or from some 
 other grammar. I send you Virgil, Horace, and 
 Tibullus, and lament that I have not a Cicero de 
 Officiis to send ; but Mr Keyt can probably put 
 you in the way of procuring books from London 
 or Liverpool, and I do not think it worth while 
 to delay the present box, while any books may be 
 sought for in Town ; and for the future, I am 
 sure it will be an economy both of time and 
 money, to purchase what you want in England. 
 I thought your prize Quintilian too fine for a 
 jaunt into Cheshire, and it is not very probable 
 that Mr Keyt may require you to read an author 
 usually reserved for a later period. Rollin is one 
 of the only scholars I know of, who made Quin- 
 tilian an elementary book. I hope Mr Keyt will 
 not allow your versification to be neglected ; as a 
 means of improvement in writing prose Latin, 
 verse is to be practised. — Mr K. will, I doubt 
 not, require you frequently to abridge what you 
 read ; and the more you do so, the better for 
 you. At your time of life, it is infinitely better 
 than original composition. 
 
 I am pleased at the arrangement of your day. 
 Of hours thus regularly disposed of, the fruit 
 will, I hope, be good. Your threat of reading a 
 
LETTERS. 261 
 
 Greek play before Christmas, is indeed magnifi- 
 cent, and, if you execute it, you are not likely to 
 fall under the censure justly bestowed on a class, 
 who, you know, read the Electra of Sophocles as 
 a *' brag;" but neglected more important mat- 
 ters. What you read, I have no doubt you will 
 read to good purpose, and not before you ought 
 to read it. 
 
 The Classical Journal has teemed, of late, with 
 dissertations on the words of Nestor, Iliad, a. v. 
 282. ccvrag iyooyi KlGao[jj ^AxiKk^ji (Ms^ifJbsv %okov^ ic. 
 r. X. in your next let me know what Mr Keyt 
 says of Xiffaof/jcci with a dative case. I am against 
 it I confess, and consider Nestor as only pressing 
 his suit again upon Agamemnon. 
 
 Assure Mr Keyt of my affectionate regards, in 
 which all here join ; and, with the kindest re- 
 membrances from all here, and with my earnest 
 prayers for God's blessing upon you and your 
 studies, and your prospects, I am, my dear 
 
 D , your affectionate father and most sincere 
 
 friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 Wellington in France for ever ! 
 
 Edinburgh, November 5, 1813. 
 
 My dear D , 
 
 I am delighted with your sensible and 
 manly style of writing, and feel regard and grati- 
 
262 LETTERS. 
 
 tude which I cannot express towards my valuable 
 friend, to whose kind instructions you are so 
 much indebted. Your progress in Greek is to my 
 heart's content. You know my earnest desire that 
 you should be a good Greek scholar, — you are 
 within reach of the fountain, and you may re- 
 member one of your own quotations, "juvat in- 
 tegros accedere fontes," &c. May every success 
 attend you, my dear son. You are too well ac- 
 quainted with the beautiful passage of Cicero 
 pro Archia, c. 7* to need my reminding you of 
 more than the first words, " Haec studia adoles- 
 centiam agunt," &c. some read " alunt," and I 
 am not sure whether that is not the better read- 
 ing. If you knew^ the heartfelt gratification which 
 it gives your parents to witness your improve- 
 ment, and the earnestness wdth which they offer 
 their prayers to God for blessings on you, your 
 kind heart would rejoice indeed. 
 
 The opinions of the critics, who, in the Classi- 
 cal Journal, have tormented the line of Homer, 
 which I mentioned in my last, are too prolix to 
 be written here. Suffice it to say, that they are 
 pretty nearly balanced in point of number, I do 
 not think so in point of authority ; for I take it, 
 Homer knew his own language at least as well as 
 any modern Greek scholar, and it is observable, 
 that the verb X/Wojooa; occurs nearly fifty times in 
 the poems of Homer with an accusative, and 
 there is only this 07ie instance, if this be one, of 
 its conjunction with the dative. Let the vicar 
 
LETTERS. ^63 
 
 of Runcorn consider this, and as I am not un- 
 willing to bow to him as a much more practised 
 Greek scholar than I am, whatever, after careful 
 examination of Seber, he pronounces, that I will 
 not refuse to allow, though not without endeav- 
 ouring at least, most respectfully, to justify my 
 dissent. I would construe the passage as if 
 Nestor were only addressing Agamemnon with 
 more earnestness, led as I am to this judgment 
 by the force of uvrag and eyajyz. "Eycjyz *'I, that 
 Nestor whom Theseus, Caeneus, and a thousand 
 other big-fisted fellows always regarded, / beseech 
 you Agamemnon to remit your wrath against 
 Achilles, who is the great support of the Greeks," 
 &c. &c. I know I have a host against this exposi- 
 tion, but I have not a Kgalirj lXcc(poto in this matter 
 at present. When I have heard your answer 
 upon this matter, I will send you for your enter- 
 tainment, a passage in the New Testament, and 
 another crust from the first Iliad to work upon. 
 
 I am glad to hear that you do not neglect your 
 Latin verse. Although I do not wish you to be 
 nothing but a Latin poet, the practice of verses 
 is so important to a Latin scholar, that at your 
 time of life, you should be very much employed 
 in it. By the by, I hope you will be able to read 
 what I write, for I am obliged to write as fast as 
 I can, as my time is occupied from morning to 
 night. I have three pupils, who keep me at 
 work, as I keep them at work, and 1 am now 
 making the best of a presbyterian fast-day to be 
 
264 LETTERS. 
 
 in time for you to-morrow, for I would not fail 
 in my duty of writing to you, for any bribe that 
 could be offered me. I only wish you may have 
 a fourth part of the pleasure in reading that I 
 have in writing to you. 
 
 Well, I congratulate you on the Continental 
 news. Buonaparte will probably, by this time, be 
 able to understand experimentally, the meaning 
 of a passage, which I read not above two hours 
 ago, in the first Philippic of Demosthenes, who 
 tells the Athenians of Philip kvkXco 'Trcx.vrayj^ T^iJbdg 
 ^s^tffToixiZ^rc/j. The Scholiast on this passage tells 
 you, that 'TczQ^iaroiyjl^irai is a jtAsra^o^a, taken from 
 the chace, and means "hemming in a wild beast." 
 The Bavarians are commanded by a very great 
 rascal, a Frenchman at heart, general Wrede ; but 
 I hope his troops, who, they say, are good and 
 well-principled, will keep him in order. 
 
 I hope you have written to my dear . 
 
 He is very home-sick, as they call it, and has al- 
 ready begged to come here at Christmas. He will 
 be comforted by a kind letter from you ; — and 
 early in life cultivate the affections of your family, 
 my dearest son, for they are the fastest friends, 
 and the friends who will remain ever the most 
 attached. With every affectionate and paternal 
 
 blessing, my dear D , your affectionate father 
 
 and friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
LETTERS. 265 
 
 Edinburgh, Nov. 19, 1813. 
 
 My dearest D , 
 
 Perhaps it is superfluous for me to 
 mention Heyne's opinion on II. ^', 480. He dis- 
 approves, as I cannot help doing, the introduction 
 of lluv to supply the sense, and govern kviovrccy 
 and has recourse, as Dawes had recourse before 
 him, to the so called Attic formula, by which smTV 
 is found with an accusative : vid. Eurip. Andro- 
 meda, 646, " ri l^r dv zi'zoig TOT2 TEPON- 
 TA2 cug Gotpoi:" in Pind. Ol. xiv. 32, you will 
 see the same construction. This makes sense 
 of the passage in question ; and I am inclined, 
 perhaps, to be contented with it. 
 
 For my Homeric crust you must condescend 
 to go back to II. a', v. 567, and tell me what you 
 make of aaaov lov6\ which I cannot make out, 
 and which no commentator satisfies me about. 
 I am not convinced about the Dative in the same 
 II., V. 283, by appeals to Homer's omnipotence. 
 As I do not find that in other places he has 
 exerted this attribute, I am not willing to ac- 
 knowledge it here ; especially as I think I can 
 make better sense of the passage without such 
 a violent supposition : the whole, in my humble 
 opinion, depends on avra,^ and 'iyooyz. I presume 
 Mr Keyt looks upon the \v6ah' dri[jjog ieiov as in- 
 corrigible — V. 170 ; if in the line before you 
 might read r oico instead of <r' hico, you might 
 explain it easily. This was the proposal of Lord 
 
266 LETTERS. 
 
 Monboddo ; but said he, the worst of it is, we 
 have no MS. to support such a reading. 
 
 My Bibhcal difficulty I beg leave to submit 
 to your kind friend and able instructor, with 
 an earnest request, that, when he has leisure, 
 which I much wish him to have, to write me 
 a few lines, he will notice it. The difficulty is 
 more than verbal. I showed the passage to a 
 friend lately, and he w^as not aware of it before. 
 It is in St Luke, chap. xxii. ver. 31, 32, — " EIts 
 ^g Ky^/of* S/jO-iyv, y,i(/ja}v, ihov, o y^aravoig k^yirriffuro 
 ' TM A2, rov (Tiviuffai cog rov alrov 'Ey^y ^s &hs/j0'/]u -Tngi 
 20T, 'ivci [M'^ lyJkzi'Trri 7] iriarig 20T. Ka; 2T 'Zoti 
 iTKTr^sipcig (TTri^(S,ov rovg cchzXi^ovg 20T." Of course 
 the difficulty lies in the change of number. 
 Commentators, of course also, give one no 
 assistance. 
 
 Having thus despatched the Greek part of my 
 letter, (by-the-by, you improve much in writing 
 Greek,) I go on to assure you of the satisfaction 
 which I derive from* the progress you are making. 
 My debt to Mr Keyt cannot be repaid. I can- 
 not express my gratitude to him, any more than 
 the comfort which I feel whenever I turn my 
 thoughts to my beloved youth at Runcorn. I 
 am delighted to find you reading a portion of 
 theology already. Under your godfather's di- 
 rection you will become a sound theologian ; 
 and God Almighty bless you in all you are now 
 doing with such good guidance, to qualify your- 
 self for the sacred profession, in which it will be 
 
LETTERS. 267 
 
 my comfort to see you engaged, if your heart 
 be in it. 
 
 I am always glad to hear that you have ex- 
 ercise of the body as well as the mind ; yet I 
 have some awkward apprehensions about a leap- 
 ing pole with your wrist. I suppose it is quite 
 strong, or you would hardly expose it to such 
 violent exercise. 
 
 Believe me, with my fervent prayers for God's 
 blessing on you, my dear D , your affec- 
 tionate father and sincere friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 Greatly do we all rejoice in the prospect of 
 Buonaparte's fall, it seems approaching ; pray 
 read with this view the 73d psalm. 
 
 Edinburgh^ December 3, 1813. 
 
 My dear D , 
 
 You may well say "Orange boven." 
 Merciful and wonderful are the changes which 
 a few short months have produced. Heartily 
 do I rejoice in the prospect which the goodness 
 of Divine providence has opened to our view ; 
 and still more shall I rejoice, if, from the judg- 
 ments that they have witnessed, the inhabitants 
 of the continent learn righteousness. 
 
 In the midst of this joy I have, however, been 
 very differently occupied, in visiting the house 
 
268 LETTERS. 
 
 of mourning. I do not know that the papers 
 will have informed you of the death of your 
 
 friend and school-fellow He was 
 
 seized, when apparently in the highest health and 
 strength, with a typhus fever, and in twelve 
 days, notwithstanding the activity and skill of 
 the best physicians in Carlisle, was taken away. 
 He died on the 21st of last month. His afflicted 
 father returned on Wednesday the 24th from 
 performing the last melancholy duties. The 
 poor boy retained his understanding, with little 
 suspension, to the last ; and his mind was pro- 
 perly occupied. He was improving very much 
 under Mr Fawcet's care, — and his loss is most 
 intensely lamented by his family ; especially, I 
 think, by his father. A solemn lesson does this 
 dispensation teach to the young. No youth could 
 appear more likely to live to manhood than — — 
 
 did, on the very day when the fever broke 
 
 out upon him. *' Boast not thyself, young man, of 
 the morrow, for thou knowest not what a day 
 may bring forth." Lay this to your heart, my 
 beloved son. Let your departed school-fellow 
 speak to you from the grave, to remind you of 
 the uncertainty of life ; to counsel you not to 
 waste the hours which are lent to you, to be 
 recalled you know not when ; but to prepare 
 yourself, now in the time of youth and vigour, 
 to meet that awful Lord, who cometh at an hour 
 which we know not of, — at the cock-crowing, 
 at the time of advanced life, at the evening, in 
 
LETTERS. 269 
 
 tlie maturity of manhood and strength, or in the 
 morning, in the early days of activity and cheer- 
 fuhiess and hope. 
 
 At present, under the care of your excellent 
 preceptor, your hours will be well employed; 
 and I pray God that you may reap the fruit of 
 your diligence. I hope, my dear son, that Mr 
 Keyt will have no reason to complain of childish- 
 ness in you. *' Homo, res sacra," says the old 
 philosopher; seriousness of mind and deportment 
 is to be expected at your time of life ; be cheer- 
 ful, but be manly, — and as you are no more a 
 schoolboy, forget schoolboy manners. It is not 
 to be said what satisfaction a sensible man like 
 Mr K. will receive from sobriety of manner. 
 I know that no good can be imparted or re- 
 ceived without it; and you cannot expect to 
 reap the advantages which you otherwise may 
 reap from your present situation without it. But 
 hcBG hactenus. 
 
 I do not approve of your ' A>^;?iX^a, there is no 
 MS. authority for it ; and I am sturdy enough 
 to persevere in thinking, that the sense is better 
 without such a change. I am afraid your 
 AioKkyjoi, will by no means bear you out. Mr 
 Keyt said nothing about a(r(rov lovd' ; — I am un- 
 willing to intrude upon his time with these 
 things ; and I believe you and I must keep 
 them between ourselves. On the passage in 
 St Luke, however, I will hope, at some time or 
 other, to hear something. 
 
270 LETTERS. 
 
 So you are reading Livy. I am much mis^ 
 taken if you do not find some cramp passages 
 now and then, which will cost you trouble. I 
 doubt not that you abridge as you go on. This 
 is an exercise of memory and composition to 
 which you have already been accustomed, and 
 if you go to Christ Church, you will find it in- 
 dispensable there. 
 
 Your account of your wrist is pleasing. I do 
 not know how you use your leaping pole ; if 
 you rest it under the arm-pit, beware lest you 
 amuse the natives of Runcorn with a dislocated 
 shoulder : this has happened to leapers with 
 poles ; but from the little I remember of the 
 exercise, I imagine that the said leapers must 
 
 have been very awkward. Miss C 's brother, 
 
 who is here now, tells me that dislocation of the 
 shoulder was no uncommon occurrence at Eton. 
 If you use your pole in the manner of which I 
 speak, I confess that I shall be uneasy ; there- 
 fore, let me know how you use it. A dislocated 
 liwmerus is worse than dislocation of the wrist 
 and fracture of the radius. 
 
 Your letter to F reached us after my last 
 
 was departed. Do not throw your desk into the 
 Mersey, but give it to your mathematical master 
 when you have done with it ; it will probably 
 be very acceptable to him. Your account of 
 
 the live family to S was very amusing ; I 
 
 think you might make a catalogue of them in 
 an epigram of longs and shorts, very well. 
 
LETTERS. 271 
 
 Adieu ; — in the course of next week I must 
 write to you again, a more substantial letter than 
 this ; but I am confined just now with a bad 
 cold. We are pleased to hear that you have 
 
 had a kind letter from Mrs S . Pray, my 
 
 dear boy, learn in good time not to neglect 
 writing to your friends, — many a friend has been 
 lost by such folly and idleness. 
 
 Your mother, &c. send love and kindest re- 
 gard, and believe me, my dearest D , your 
 
 affectionate father, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh, December 15, 1813. 
 
 My dear D- 
 
 I write to you before my usual day of 
 writing, because I happen to have to-day leisure 
 for a few lines, and because I wish as soon as 
 possible to satisfy your mind about your visit to 
 Sandford-hall. 
 
 I write a letter to Mr Keyt, acquainting him 
 with my wish that you should have his permis- 
 sion to visit your aunt. 
 
 I depend upon your caution while you are at 
 Sandford. The proverb is, " alieno periculo, 
 cautus fio." You may say *' meo ipsius periculo 
 cautus factus sum." You have had one fall from 
 a horse, beware of another. Your mother is as 
 anxious upon this subject as I am j and trusts, 
 
272 LETTERS. 
 
 with me, to your promise that you will not do 
 any thing rash. I beg you to avoid hunting and 
 leaping on horseback. Your own spirits are 
 lively ; I fancy that my nephew's are of the 
 same description ; therefore there is abundant 
 reason for the admonitions which I give you. 
 
 It gives me comfort to hear of your progress 
 in Greek. If it please God that we meet in 
 summer, I shall have a companion who can talk 
 with me about Greek and Latin, and will feel 
 interested in my observations. I wish to see your 
 version of Hector and Andromache, in English. 
 I will not compare it with Pope's, inasmuch as 
 that part of his translation of the Iliad, is per- 
 haps the best executed of the whole. How do 
 you render laz^vosv ysKocffuffcc ? I am sorry to say, 
 that Hector does not express himself with so 
 much feeling as he ought to have done, in his 
 answer to Andromache's beautiful expostulation — 
 
 55 KXI if^ol Toihs 'TToi.vrec fcsT^ii, yvuxt' 
 
 but Homer is right in putting such language 
 into his mouth. By the by, the scene in 1st Hen. 
 IV. between Percy and his wife, has some resem- 
 blance with this roughness of Hector's. Read 
 it with this view. " And so far I will trust thee, 
 gentle Kate," is but a scurvy answer to all her 
 affectionate solicitude about him. But, as in 
 Homer, the painting is just. Shakspeare is the 
 only poet whom I can compare with Homer, for 
 he is the only one who may be spoken of as the 
 
LETTERS. 273 
 
 critic speaks of Homer, *' rov kcIXol^ov slg vovv 
 
 I have been lately amused and entertained a 
 good deal with Madame de Stael's new work on 
 Germany. A short poem of Lessing's which she 
 translates, I have got one of your sisters to copy, 
 and request you at your leisure to try how it 
 would look in long and short verse in Latin. I 
 think it will suit that verse, and that language. 
 I need not say that no other occupations are to 
 be neglected for the sake of this ; but you may 
 find some amusement in it. 
 
 Upon your return from Shropshire, I should 
 wish you, with Mr Keyt's approbation, to begin 
 French ; and, my dearest boy, pray work hard. 
 What you leam well at this time of your life 
 will stick by you, and " experto crede," a lan- 
 guage is not easily learned after youth. Get all 
 manner of knowledge ; let your mind be like the 
 question bag which used to entertain us so much : 
 store up every thing you can in it ; only in 
 order — not carelessly. At present your chief 
 object is Greek, hard Greek. What you learn 
 of other things, learn slowly, because you have 
 not much time for them, and take no step till 
 you have secured the preceding. Superficial 
 grammar is the ruin of learning. 
 
 Above all, my dearest D , be *' sober- 
 minded." The only objection which I have to 
 much association and much correspondence of 
 young people with one another, is, that in their 
 
 VOL. I. s 
 
274 LETTERS. 
 
 conversation and their letters, tliey are too apt 
 to think that cheerfulness cannot exist without 
 levity. Now, levity is unbecoming a man of 
 sense, a gentleman, and a Christian. Do not 
 consider this as an observation of ** old square 
 toes." I hope I am as cheerful with my sons as 
 need be ; but I hope also I give them no exam- 
 ple of levity, which young writers generally think 
 witty, but which is always vulgar, and too often 
 licentious. 
 
 I wish to hear from you before you leave 
 Runcorn. Let us know when you go, and 
 how you go, and when you are to return : 
 and I hope you will not allow any thing to 
 detain you beyond the time which Mr Keyt 
 fixes for your return. Nothing is more trifling 
 than the trick of prolonging holidays. With all 
 affectionate remembrances from the rest, believe 
 
 me, my dearest D , your affectionate father 
 
 and sincere friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 Do you think you could try a Latin letter. I 
 am reading Cicero with great attention, espe- 
 cially the epistles, in order to qualify myself for 
 such a correspondence, and not to spoil your 
 Latin by any solecisms of mine. 
 
LETTERS. 9!^5 
 
 Edinburgh, 28th Dec. 1813. 
 
 My dear D— — , 
 
 Although I shall not send this letter 
 probably till Friday, yet forasmuch as " occasion 
 is bald behind," which words I consider to be a 
 pretty close translation of the Latin proverb 
 " post est occasio calva," I will take " occasio" in 
 front, and thank you for your letter from Preston 
 Brook, which I received to-day. 
 
 I trust that you reached Sandford Hall in 
 safety, and that we shall soon hear from you how 
 you found your aunt and cousins. 
 
 In looking back to your last letter from Run- 
 corn, I find a question about TrXocrvg as applied to 
 the Hellespont. The usual translation of -TrXarvg 
 is, as you well know, *' wide or broad" an epithet 
 not very applicable, it would seem, to the sea 
 which Leander in old time, and Lord Byron in 
 modern days could swim across. It is suggested 
 by a late traveller (Mr Walpole, see Clarke's 
 Travels, vol. II. p. 70* note) that TXocrvg ' EKkriff- 
 itovrog is the Salt Hellespont. UXocrvg in this 
 sense is used four times by Aristotle, in Meteor. 
 Lib. II. e. g. Ka/ ^/a rovro rci rz voria v^otra, 
 HAATT'TEPA. Duval Arist, Tom. 1. p. 556. 
 c. again rov fjuzro'Trco^ou IIAATE'A ra vlaTocy id. p. 
 556. d. again id. p. 556. e. TrXarO occurs again 
 two or three lines after in the same place, e. used 
 throughout as synonymous with aX[jju^og, salt. He- 
 sychius, to whom I have referred, gives the same 
 meaning. Damm, in his Lexicon Homericum, is 
 
 s 2 
 
276 LETTERS. 
 
 said not to take notice of this sense of ^Xary?, 
 nor is it, so far as I can learn, mentioned by 
 Stephanus ; yet it is clear, that you can trans- 
 late it by no other word than salt, in the passages 
 quoted from Aristotle*s Meteor. The chapter 
 is on the causes of the saltness of the sea. I 
 have examined Aristotle myself, and you may 
 depend upon the accuracy of the quotations 
 which I send you. I think they do autho- 
 rise us to render -TrXarvg ' YXkriG-ffovrog, the salt 
 Hellespont. 
 
 I observe in the same letter of yours another 
 subject of remark. You talk of "troubling me 
 with minuticp.^^ My dear son, nothing that con- 
 cerns any of my children is a minutia to me. 
 In your case every slightest thing is of conse- 
 quence ; and with regard to your classical im- 
 provement, I am anxious about the smallest 
 matters. Remember the words of the great 
 Samuel Clarke, in his preface to his edition of 
 Homer; I quote from memory, therefore may 
 not be accurate, — *' Ex judicii consuetudine in 
 rebus minutis diligenter adhibita, pendet seepis- 
 sime, etiam et in maximis, vera atque accurata 
 scientia." This ought to be a motto with young 
 students, who are often inclined to treat these 
 "minutiae" as they generally treat halfpence, 
 i. e. take no account of them. But halfpence 
 are the elements of pounds, and grammatical 
 minutiae the elements of sound learning. 
 
 Pounds put me in mind of arithmetic, and that 
 
LETTERS. 277 
 
 of the wonderful American boy. He is here 
 just now, and is much visited. I have not been 
 near him, nor do I think much of going. I 
 have no skill in giving questions, and knowing 
 from better authority what he can do, I am in- 
 clined to be contented. Leslie puzzled him, and 
 so have other persons ; and it is generally ob- 
 served, that he discovers a question and answers 
 it at once, or not at all. Like a tiger, if he 
 misses his first spring, he does not try another. 
 
 I do not like to interrupt your amusements 
 at Sandford w4th versification, and therefore do 
 not send the translations from Lessing, till the 
 first cover to Runcorn. You shall then have 
 them ; and I expect that you will make a very 
 pretty poem in the Latin tongue out of them. 
 
 I am in a state of despondency about public 
 affairs. I fear sadly that Austria will prove 
 treacherous, and that all will end in a hollow 
 armed truce ; for a peace while Buonaparte in 
 power can be nothing better. I set about my 
 sermon for the general thanksgiving with no 
 great satisfaction. The good which Providence 
 has bestowed, is likely, as usual, to be rendered 
 vain by the weakness and wickedness of man ; 
 and all the blood spilt, and the magnificent 
 skill and bravery of Lord Wellington and his 
 most gallant army, to be useless. 
 
 I have other letters to write to-day, and a 
 number of abstracts of catechetical lectures to 
 look over, so you must allow me to conclude 
 
278 LETTERS. 
 
 now, and to assure you how truly I am, my dear 
 
 D , your affectionate father and friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh, January 15, 1814. 
 
 My dear D , 
 
 I am much obliged to you for keeping 
 to your regular day in writing to me, though 
 you had so many enticements to draw you away 
 from your employment. I did not, however, 
 receive your letter till Wednesday, and I find 
 by the post mark that it did not leave Shrews- 
 bury till Sunday. 
 
 I cannot ascertain when you will receive this, 
 for the storm has rendered the roads somewhere 
 impassable. The arrival of the English mails 
 is very late and irregular ; I received your last 
 at eight p. m. instead of eleven a. m., and our 
 London papers made their appearance last night 
 instead of yesterday moi'ning. Come when they 
 will, however, such papers are welcome. — The 
 progress of the allies is consoling to rne, although 
 I am glad that they are not of your mind, and 
 do not retaliate upon the French the miseries 
 which they have inflicted. They are Christian 
 warriors. How comfortably do Lowth's beauti- 
 ful lines come to my remembrance, — they are 
 part of his admirable translation of the pro- 
 phecy of the fall of Babylon. The whole poem 
 
LETTERS. 279 
 
 is to be found in his lectures de Poesi Heb. ; and 
 Mr Keyt will, I dare say, be kind enough to 
 show them to you. The lines to which I allude 
 particularly begin the poem: 
 
 Ergone insolentis corruit iinperi 
 Insana moles ? occidit urbium 
 Regina victrix, nee subacto 
 EfFera jam dominatur orbi. 
 
 When shall I see such lyrics from my dear son ? 
 yet of such a sight I do not despair. I know 
 no man more capable of putting you in the way 
 of reaching this versification than the vicar of 
 
 Runcorn. Cultivate his kindness, my dear D , 
 
 you owe every attention to him, and if you la- 
 bour with manly perseverance, he will not be 
 sparing of his attentions to you. But, especially, 
 be manly, and " sober-minded.'* The pursuits 
 of learning and taste should raise us above 
 trifling ; you must be, under the blessing of 
 Divine Providence, *' artifex tuse fortunae ;" and 
 the habits of seriousness, the most important 
 moral habits, must be acquired, before you are 
 removed, if you ever be so, into a scene where 
 their strength will be tried. 
 
 I have had a very severe attack of my old 
 and painful complaint since I wrote last. For 
 two or three days I suffered egregiously ; my 
 duty was done for me on Sunday, and I was en- 
 abled by that respite, to venture out on Thursday 
 afternoon to preach. I have not been so well 
 
280 LETTERS. 
 
 since ; the weather is so intensely cold. I am 
 obliged to avoid cold, "cane et angue pejus," 
 and totally abstain from wine. Next Sunday 
 my duty is provided for, and I stay at home, 
 sitting i7ito the fire, until the 23d, before which 
 day I trust we shall have milder air. I suppose 
 you have been well pinched in Cheshire ; but 
 you are, thank God, strong, and can bear it. I 
 have often thought how mercifully God has 
 ordained my situation, for in a cold parish 
 church in England I should not be able to do 
 any duty except in the summer. 
 
 I have no doubt you had a vigorous, patriotic 
 address from my good friend on Thursday last ; 
 and better than the rest of the service. The 
 choice of psalms and lessons was good j but the 
 prayers ! — alas, alas, the liturgical spirit is gone. 
 
 Adieu, my dear son j all here join in affec- 
 tionate kind wishes j and believe me ever your 
 affectionate father and friend, 
 
 D, Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh^ March 11, 1814. 
 
 My dear D , 
 
 You must be contented with an English 
 letter from me to-day, for I am encumbered with 
 business and pecuHarly incapable from continual 
 uneasiness, to do any thing that requires much 
 thought, with much comfort to myself. I long 
 
LETTERS. 281 
 
 for the day which, if it so pleases God, will re- 
 lease me by confining me, as I am without hope 
 of recovery, but by undergoing the operation of 
 which I spoke in my last. I think it right, how- 
 ever, to tell you that, though the word is tremen- 
 dous, the pain will be comparatively trifling, and 
 very short, nothing to what I have often suffered 
 from the use of caustic, and still less, in compari- 
 son to the pain which you underwent under Mr 
 Kerr's hands when he set your arm. Your suffer- 
 ings must have been acute. — "Then Satan," 
 says Milton, " first knew pain." I do not mean 
 to compare you to Satan, or Buonaparte, who 
 stands next to him in my catalogue of iniquity; but 
 the line came into my head, and so I set it down, 
 as a school-boy writes his theme, '* to fill up." 
 
 I have read your letter to your mother. You 
 must, my dear son, confine yourself to your 
 studies, and let me counsel you above all things, 
 to do every thing which Mr K. wishes you to do, 
 with the utmost attention. He is a particular 
 man in some things ; but your prudence, and, I 
 may add, your duty, is to yield to these injunc- 
 tions which you may think unnecessary or pre- 
 cise, without murmuring. The time of your 
 confinement to such regulations, may be for- 
 gotten in your diligence at your studies ; and as 
 you are certainly under very great obligations to 
 Mr K., the greatest regularity and even punc- 
 tilious observance of his wishes, is required at 
 your hands. I would not advise you to flatter 
 
282 LETTERS. 
 
 any man; bnt attention and seriousness Mr Keyt 
 has a right to expect from you, and by compli- 
 ance with his wishes, he will be gratified and 
 your own improvement advanced. 
 
 A man who was determined to seek for alle- 
 gory in every thing, might undoubtedly frame a 
 specious allegory from the fifth Iliad. — Valour 
 guided by Wisdom, repelling the effeminate in- 
 dulgences of Love, and repelling also every thing 
 approaching to savage cruelty in warfare ; but 
 as P. P. clerk of this parish says, *' These are 
 conceits of men delighting in vain imaginations, 
 rather than in the truth." Homer, I believe, 
 thought no more of an allegory, than of a plumb- 
 pudding. I think Pope, in some of his notes, 
 starts the notion, and I mentioned it to you, in 
 hopes of seeing how you could call the authors 
 of it fools, and knaves, and stupid Boeotian rascals, 
 in good Latin. 
 
 I hope you can read this, which is more than 
 
 I would undertake to do, — I write with much 
 
 pain, no poor man in the inquisition ever was 
 
 more plagued in a gentle way than I am, — I thank 
 
 God I do not lose my temper, but you would 
 
 lose yours if I gave you the plague of reading 
 
 much more. Adieu, therefore, and God bless 
 
 you, prays your ever affectionate father and 
 
 friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 Hurra ! Cossacks in Paris, Crown Prince and 
 Blucher beating Buonaparte, — were this to go on 
 
LETTERS. 283 
 
 I should be out of my wits with satisfaction. I 
 long for Buonaparte to ai(ijarog dacct "A^rjoc ruXav^t- 
 vov 'ZokiiLiarriv. 
 
 Edinburgh^ March 19, 1814. 
 
 My dearest D- 
 
 Althoun-h I have not much time to 
 
 •& 
 
 spare on this day for a letter, yet as your mother 
 wishes me to write to you, and has a cover, I am 
 very ready to lay aside my lecture on the stocks, 
 and to assure you of the heartfelt gratification 
 with which I read your sentiments in your letter 
 to her received to-day. These, my dear son, are 
 the sentiments which, ripened into action, and 
 regulating your conduct, will make you a bless- 
 ing to your parents and your family, and lead 
 you to comfort and honour. The vyjnorrig of for- 
 mer days you have now laid aside ; and you may 
 depend on every exertion on my part to assist 
 your progress. During the period which you have 
 spent at Runcorn, you have laid a foundation of 
 steadiness and diligence, on which I have no 
 fears, if God grant me health and strength, to 
 raise a superstructure honourable to both of us. 
 
 I did not know that your lines to Miss Robert- 
 son had not been noticed by your mother, and 
 in my last 1 left myself no room to tell you that 
 I was much pleased with many of them. I do 
 not pretend to say that I should not advise you 
 
284 LETTERS. 
 
 in some passages, " incudi reddere versus." To 
 continue to speak in Horace's words, there are 
 perhaps some " ambitiosa ornamenta," which I 
 should tell you ** recidere," and some " parum 
 clara" to which I would have you "dare lucem." 
 Towards you, "fiam Aristarchus," and I am far 
 from saying " cur ego amicum ofFendam in 
 nugis." You are, I bless God, "summus amicus 
 mens," and I have no backwardness in criticisms, 
 which I am sure you will receive in good part, 
 and will give me some credit for the restraint 
 which I put on my parental feelings, in qualify- 
 ing any praise I bestow on what you write, for I 
 am very grateful to Almighty God for the talents 
 which he has bestowed on you ; and unless you 
 know that God has bestowed them on you, I do 
 not see how you can be made sensible of the re- 
 sponsibility under which you stand to labour in 
 their unprovement. Praise I hope will act upon 
 you, as it acts, and I am thankful that it does so, 
 on me, to make you humble, not vain. For the 
 ablest man that ever lived must remember, that 
 " all he has, he has received ;" and he must al- 
 ways stand in fear lest he may find more reason 
 than Grotius had, to apply to himself what that 
 great man said of his own labours, "Heu! vitam 
 perdidi, operose nil agendo." A man has no 
 more reason to be proud of his talents, than he 
 has to be proud of being six feet high, and 
 as strong as one of the pugilistic champions of 
 the day. I shall send you, if the verses are not 
 
LETTERS. 285 
 
 gone to Miss R., a sheet of criticism in the next 
 cover on Friday. I recommend you much at this 
 period of your life to compose occasionally, both in 
 verse and prose. " A man," says Johnson, "should 
 begin to write soon, for, if he waits till his judg- 
 ment is matured, his inability, through want of 
 practice to express his conceptions, will make the 
 disproportion so great between what he sees, and 
 what he can attain, that he will probably be dis- 
 couraged from writing at all." This is a very 
 sensible remark, and I beg you to profit by it. 
 I find desuetude a great enemy to my ease in 
 writing, and now force myself to the weekly com- 
 position of a sermon, and just at present a lecture 
 too, to cure myself. In writing Latin, I feel the 
 effects of want of custom prodigiously, and I 
 should not be surprised if you had discovered in 
 my " epistola" more than one proof of the 
 " currens calamus," though I trust Priscian's 
 head was not injured. I mention all this to 
 assure you of the sincerity with which I advise 
 you to write " dum aetas et sororum fila trium 
 patiuntur atra." 
 
 I sat down with an intention to write a few 
 lines : the interest with which I write to you has 
 beguiled me into filling my paper. Your mother 
 adds her letter, and her blessing to mine, which 
 I fervently bestow upon you, imploring that 
 direction for you which shall guide you with 
 "counsel" in this life, and after that "receive 
 you into 'glory." Adieu, my beloved son, and 
 
286 LETTERS. 
 
 believe me ever your affectionate father and 
 faithful friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 My best regards to Mr Keyt. — Buonaparte at 
 his old tricks — running away : av^g 6 <pzvyuv x,ca 
 TToXiv |M/a%?7(T£ra;. The French accounts of Blu- 
 cher's repeated defeats, after being annihilatedy 
 are very amusing. The Corsican, when other 
 trades fail, may set up an " Academia mentiendi." 
 
 Edinburgh, March 21, 1814. 
 
 My dear D , 
 
 Mr Miller has just now called to tell 
 us that he sets off to-morrow for London, and 
 means to take Runcorn in his way. I cannot 
 but avail myself of the opportunity of thanking 
 you for the fresh proof, which your letter re- 
 ceived yesterday afforded me, of your improve- 
 ment. Your sentiments are all that I could wish, 
 and I anticipate, if it shall please God, great 
 delight in a twelvemonth's reading with you 
 after you leave Runcorn, which I mean you to 
 do at any rate after another winter. One year 
 of assiduous study with me will, I hope, prepare 
 you well for an honourable admission at Christ 
 Church. We must exert every nerve to keep 
 you at college, till you are able to keep your- 
 self; and the time to that independence will not 
 be long, if you be serious, diligent, and well con- 
 
LETTERS. 287 
 
 ducted. But neither at Christ Church, nor any 
 where else, can you expect to proceed without 
 these quaUfications. You will go to Oxford with 
 many advantages ; it will depend upon yourself 
 to make the right use of them. 
 
 I wish you to send me, weekly, a specimen of 
 themes or verses, and I will return my opinion 
 of them ; and will not spare criticism. You 
 know the friendly heart and hand which criticise, 
 and need not therefore fear a desire to find fault, 
 or on the other hand either a blind partiality, or 
 any inclination to refuse praise where it is due. 
 How you can possibly improve either in verse or 
 prose composition, without the correction of your 
 preceptor, is to me somewhat problematical. 
 What my excellent friend has perhaps no time to 
 do, I will endeavour to perform. You will, 
 however, gain a great deal by reading so much 
 Greek and Latin, and elegance may be added 
 afterwards where there is a foundation. Where 
 there is but superficial knowledge to work upon, 
 elegance is like the colours of an air bubble 
 which a boy blows with a tobacco pipe, very 
 pretty, but very evanescent. I suppose you have 
 a good deal of practice in Latin prose : about 
 that I am as anxious as Latin verse. You must 
 keep up the honour of your name for Latin prose 
 in themes. Let me have a theme sent me, under 
 cover to Lord Napier. It will not, I hope, be 
 very troublesome to you to write now and then 
 two copies of your compositions ; and send one 
 
288 LETTERS. 
 
 to Aristarclius. Many kind inquiries after you 
 were made lately by Mr Pillans. I hope you 
 do not forget your Roman Antiquities : you 
 will find that sort of knowledge of very great 
 consequence to you. I feel upon the subject 
 of your improvement something like Horace's 
 whetstone, 
 
 " Acutum 
 Reddere quae ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi." 
 
 Every exertion I can make shall be bestowed 
 on it ; and I shall take the Greek Classics into 
 my daily reading to be prepared for my beloved 
 son ; and, as I go on, shall write notes for your 
 use. I have my doubts about the plan of read- 
 ing Greek and Latin without grammatical exer- 
 cise ; it may enable a man to acquire a ready use 
 of the language, but his knowledge will scarcely 
 be to be depended upon, and I am almost sure 
 he will not be able to communicate it well. The 
 true plan is a patient, steady acquisition of first 
 principles ; the progress is slow but sure, — the 
 one man catches the meaning of Greek as a 
 greyhound catches a hare : the other follows it 
 like a well bred hound, and is sure to come up 
 with it at last, and to hold it fast when he has 
 come up with it. You will smile at this com- 
 parison, but I have no time to alter or to amend 
 it. 
 
 Take the Herodotus by all means, and let me 
 
LETTERS. 289 
 
 have the pleasure to find the interleaves well 
 covered with remarks. Take the opportunity 
 which Herodotus will give you to become master 
 of the Ionic dialect. Tell me whether the 
 Oxford edition has the Ionic Lexicon of ^Em. 
 Portus : I have it not, but am told it is very 
 useful. Thucydides will give you the Attic 
 in perfection, and Sophocles also : with the 
 latter of whom I have lately entered into a 
 league of very close friendship and intimacy. 
 The study for your sake will become doubly 
 pleasing. 
 
 I gave you a Greek line about Buonaparte's 
 leaving his troops to fight it out without his help. 
 The gentleman is fond of this. Egypt and 
 Russia have already borne witness to his speed j 
 and, I think, Dresden too. If the French can 
 submit to a man who tarnishes their " gloire," 
 they are far sunk indeed. Yet I have seen so 
 much lately in *' Grimm's Letters," of the frivo- 
 lousness and corruption of French minds, that 
 I shall not wonder at any thing : and I do not 
 yet give up those ideas of which I lately wrote 
 to you ; the event will show. We are rejoicing 
 at Blucher's success ; and we rejoice still more 
 at what we hear of Lord Wellington at Bayonne. 
 Poor Sir T. Graham, you will have seen, failed 
 through treachery : Dutch treachery ! I have 
 no room nor time to say all I would on that sub- 
 ject, which comprehends much. I am ready to 
 say with the old father, " credo, quia impossibile 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
290 LETTERS. 
 
 est." Other pens in this house are spilHng ink 
 in your service ; therefore I conclude, with every 
 blessing to you, and believe me ever, my dear 
 
 D , your affectionate father and friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh^ January 10, 1817. 
 
 My dear D , 
 
 I tliink that among new faces, and in 
 a strange place, you will be glad to be greeted 
 by your sincerest friends, and encouraged to 
 the exertions which your present situation calls 
 for, by the assurance of the interest which they 
 feel in every thing that concerns you. I write 
 this, therefore, to meet you at Oxford, and to 
 give you my affectionate blessing on your en- 
 trance on a course, which I trust, by the goodness 
 of Almighty God, will conduct you to happiness 
 and honour. 
 
 I suppose you arrived safe at Christ Church, 
 after the usual adventures of a journey, a little 
 embarrassed with the new world about you ; but 
 likely, I hope, before your reply to this can 
 reach me, to appreciate the comforts and the 
 happiness of your destiny. 
 
 You have much reason, my dearest son, to be 
 happy ; God has mercifully bestowed on you a 
 good constitution and good talents ; you are, 
 through his goodness, who enables me to place 
 
LETTERS. 291 
 
 you in it, in a situation where your talents may 
 be exercised and improved, where you may 
 gain knowledge and learning, and make friends ; 
 you are introduced to respectable men, whose 
 countenance will be an honour and a benefit 
 to you ; you are within reach, (if you manage 
 matters with discretion,) of the first society the 
 kingdom affords of your own age ; you will find 
 every encouragement to diligence and good con- 
 duct, with the prospect of the most gratifying 
 recompense ; and you have left behind you 
 parents and dear friends who pray for every 
 blessing upon you, and who will rejoice from the 
 bottom of their hearts at every occurrence which 
 advances your welfare. 
 
 Such, my dear D , is your situation ; and a 
 
 little experience in my beloved Oxford will con- 
 vince you how happily every thing is provided 
 for you. I have no doubt of the kindness of 
 heart with which you will think upon the friends 
 who have placed you in this situation; and of 
 the manly, sensible resolution with which you 
 will prepare yourself to do your part, in return 
 for the mercies which Providence has bestowed 
 upon you. 
 
 I believe that in our last conference, I gave 
 you all the advice which it was necessary I should 
 give you, as to your conduct at Christ Church. 
 I have no inclination to weary you with advice 
 and admonitions ; and therefore do not intend 
 to call upon you to read here what you so 
 
 T 2 
 
292 LETTERS. 
 
 lately heard ; and heard, I am convinced, witii a 
 thorough mtention of abiding by my counsel. 
 Indeed, I can give you only general counsel ; 
 particular circumstances will bring their own 
 direction with them, if you remember the topics 
 of that gene}'al advice, in which I know, from 
 experience, that I am right. I have therefore 
 only to desire you, with my best blessing and 
 prayers for your happiness, 1st, Never to allow 
 yourself for a moment to forget the purposes 
 with which you are now at Oxford ; nor the 
 truth, that on i/our oivn proper conduct you must 
 now chiefly rest. 2d, Never to forget, that your 
 first year at college, and the habits of that year, 
 will have a main influence on yom* future life 
 and prospects. 3d, In the pursuit of your im- 
 provement, to proceed steadily and resolutely, 
 without turning to the right hand or to the left ; 
 and 4th and lastly, To be cautious and slow in 
 forming intimacies, to seek the best society or 
 none, and to be vigilant in self-government, after 
 what restrictions your own good sense and good 
 principles see it fitting to prescribe for your 
 own direction. — Do thus, my dearest son, com- 
 mend yourself daily to the protection of Al- 
 mighty God and the guidance of his Holy Spirit; 
 and whatever be your lot in life, you will secure 
 to yourself the greatest of all blessings — the 
 satisfaction of a good conscience " towards God 
 and towards man." 
 
 I long to hear your account of your first 
 
LETTERS. 293 
 
 feelings at the siofht of our venerable Alma Mater. 
 Proud I am to say 0U7' Alma Mater. It is a 
 gratification to me that I cannot express, to 
 have a son at Oxford, and above all at Christ 
 Church, and a son too who promises to do me 
 
 so much credit. Tell me how you like , 
 
 how you like the Dean, — how Drs Pett and 
 
 especially receive you, — where your rooms 
 
 are, and every thing else, great and little, that 
 concerns you ; for you can tell me nothing 
 in which I shall not feel the greatest interest. 
 I shall expect you to write to one once a fort- 
 night, on the day when you have the most 
 leisure ; tell me about your studies, your senti- 
 ments, your intentions, your companions, "ut 
 quasi votiva tabula vita omnis pateat." I have 
 reserved my remarks on Hercules to a future 
 time ; many I have yet to make, " vir bonus ac 
 prudens," you know the rest. 
 
 I leave a portion of my paper for your dear 
 mother's pen, who will like to send you a few 
 lines ; and I beg you ever to believe me, my 
 
 dearest D , your affectionate father and true 
 
 friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 Edmhurghi January 21, 1817. 
 
 My dear D , 
 
 Your welcome letter came this morning, 
 and made us all very happy ; I wish you could 
 
294 LETTERS. 
 
 have seen the countenance of dear W when 
 
 she brought it to me, — there was an earnestness 
 of affection and interest about you in it, which 
 spoke much to me of that regard for each other 
 which my beloved children possess ; and the con- 
 viction of which will, whenever the period arrives, 
 soften the solicitude of my departing hour, and 
 while I live, will make me a most happy father. 
 Your letter has been read and read again, till 
 all, I believe, could repeat it. 
 
 I am delighted with all you tell me of . 
 
 Let me give you a sketch of his disposition : 
 Where a pupil has talents and industry, he pays 
 him every attention, and exerts himself for his 
 good ; where he is stupid or idle, I am told he 
 lets him remain stupid and idle ; — in his inter- 
 course with his pupils, he is, my informant says, 
 what Shakspeare says of the great founder of 
 Christ Church, "lofty and sour to those who 
 loved him not ; but to the men that sought^ him, 
 mild as summer." — You have begun well, and 
 as I have no doubt of your talents or of your 
 industry, well you will go on. 
 
 It gives me much comfort, my dear son, to 
 read one short sentence in your letter, in which 
 you express your confidence, that with God's 
 blessing all will go well with you at Christ Church. 
 I believe with full conviction, that by His aid, 
 you will endeavour to secure that blessing, and 
 of the rest I have then no doubt. " Possumus, 
 quia posse videmur." From the manner in 
 
LETTERS. 295 
 
 which you express yourself, and the sph'it with 
 which you appear to me to view your situation, 
 I am confident, that as you now have my kindest 
 affection, so you will soon by your conduct ac- 
 quire my respect. Perhaps I am slow before I 
 bestow that ; but when once bestowed, I am 
 more than equally slow in retracting it. Hence- 
 forth, my dear son, we must feel towards one 
 another, and write to one another, with the free 
 unreserved confidence of friends. In the course 
 of honourable diligence and learning which you 
 have now entered, may God's blessing attend 
 you, — from me, to the utmost of my means, be 
 assured you shall never want the assistance and 
 encouragement which I can give you. 
 
 I find Christ Church, the last to depart from 
 the canonical hour of three o'clock for dinner, 
 has at length yielded to the fashion of the times, 
 and you dine at four. I hope you admire the 
 hall : in size it is not equal to many other rooms 
 of the same description in Europe, but in ar- 
 chitectural proportion it is admirable ; the ceiling 
 is very fine, and the Gothic pillar that supports 
 the roof of the staircase, dwells upon my recol- 
 lection as an object of especial beauty. I wish 
 to hear your opinion of the cathedral and the 
 meadow — my favourite walk. 
 
 I suppose the college is in full activity now 
 since the 18th. Tell me whom you know; and 
 whether Mr G. has introduced you to any 
 young men. I rejoice to hear that you have had 
 
296 LETTERS. 
 
 already such pleasing communications ; it is a 
 good sign of both of you, that your first conver- 
 sation was a long one, and that it was not on the 
 subject of Greek and Latin. 
 
 I am writing on my sofa, and in an awkward 
 posture. — You were scarcely gone before I had 
 a fresh attack of cold and fever, which exas- 
 perated my old complaints. By the gentle and 
 judicious treatment of Mr Abercrombie, I am 
 now, however, so much recovered, that I really 
 entertain more than usually sanguine hope that 
 my perfect restoration is certain. I never went 
 to my bed with such grateful exhilaration as 
 last night ; and I have passed to-day, and mean 
 to pass to-morrow, in the application of Mr A.'s 
 mild prescriptions, rather from a desire to fulfil 
 the Scottish proverb, and " be lang ill to be sune 
 well," than from any apprehension that confine- 
 ment is indispensable. You wih be glad to hear 
 this, and therefore I tell you ; but if things turn 
 out as I humbly hope in God's mercy they will, 
 neither you nor any one else, can be a judge of 
 my proper feelings, after tweyity years of almost 
 constant suffering. 
 
 As your mother is to write in this frank, I will 
 indulge my infirmities, and bid you farewell. 
 
 E is busy and going on well. By-the~by, 
 
 I hope you will write often to him, and cultivate 
 him ; his interest in you shows itself, without 
 words, very strongly now and then ; and I 
 certainly do judge more from a look or an ac- 
 
LETTERS. 297 
 
 tion, than from speechifying. Adieu, — God bless 
 you. 
 
 D. Sandford. 
 
 The three rules of health for a student, which 
 conducted the author of them to a green old age, 
 — he was a bright green at eighty, eyes and all : 
 
 1. Never study by an open window. 
 
 2. Study as much standing, as you can con- 
 veniently. 
 
 3. Never go to bed with cold feet. 
 
 To these I add, — Go to bed early and rise early. 
 Use your mind and your strength as you would 
 your horse : never whip, and spur, and overwork 
 them. 
 
 " Amici fures temporis." 
 
 Edinburgh, January 24, 1817. 
 
 My dear D , 
 
 Your communication to Leslie to-day 
 has been made '* publici juris " among us by his 
 kindness, and has given us all much pleasure. 
 The loneliness, which is one of the saddest 
 troubles of a freshman, is now removed, and in 
 the most desirable manner, by your admission 
 into good society. Now, my dear son, I hope that 
 you will find Christ Church all I wish you to 
 find it, and that you will be more comfortable 
 than you evidently were when you wrote your last 
 letter to me. But now, too, is the critical time 
 when your self-denial will be tried. I told you in 
 my last that I have the most unlimited confidence 
 
298 LETTERS. 
 
 in your prudence as well as your affection ; and 
 therefore I am not going to put on a grave face, 
 and read a long lecture about dissipation and 
 idleness, &c., but simply to mention one thing, 
 in which I am justified by long experience, 
 namely, whatever rules you lay down with Mr 
 
 's advice, with whom I suppose you are on 
 
 the best footing, do not add the qualifying clause 
 " except on particular occasions ;" it is nothing 
 but a trap for yourself, for " particular occa- 
 sions" are alway occurring. I certainly wish 
 you to enjoy society, as well as books, and am 
 glad that you have already made some pleasing 
 acquaintance, and I only desire to guard you 
 against laying down rules, which in the nature 
 of a college life it may not be very easy to 
 observe : it is only providing one's self with an 
 additional source of remorse, which is very 
 vmnecessary. 
 
 Sir James Riddell called on me yesterday. 
 His handsome present, of which Willie has in- 
 formed you, will release one of the books which 
 you carried from Edinburgh, and I am happy to 
 think you will be possessed of a much better 
 book. Of course you will, like a man of busi- 
 ness, acknowledge the receipt of the bill sent 
 you by the post of yesterday, not to mention the 
 letters which accompany it. By-the-by, I hope 
 
 your next letter will be to my dear E ; I 
 
 cannot tell you how grateful I am for his pro- 
 gress, — he is daily getting forward in the most 
 
LETTERS. 299 
 
 honourable manner. O my beloved son, if you 
 knew the unspeakable comfort I feel in the well- 
 doing of my sons, you would envy me the gratifi- 
 cation which I enjoy just now in his good pro- 
 gress, and my hopes, founded, I am glad to say, 
 on experience, of yourself. Your career at college 
 here was highly honourable to you ; I doubt 
 not that it will be the same at Oxford. I know 
 your candour, and therefore you will tell me if 
 you are not happy ; but I hope, indeed I hope, 
 that before a month is at an end, you will tell 
 me you are happy, ay, and very happy. I was 
 much longer lonely and uncomfortable than you. 
 You have scarcely been a week without acquain- 
 tance, — I had none that I cared about for a much 
 longer time. In the ordinance of Providence you 
 cannot expect to live always with the relations 
 you love and who love you ; and I do not think 
 I could have found a happier situation for you 
 than I have done, and I trust you will tell me 
 that you are comfortable and satisfied, soon. 
 The college may become, if such be the will of 
 God, the passage to all you could wish, or could 
 be w^ished for you. Remember, my dearest son, 
 that when we have ''devised our steps," and 
 taken with prudence the best means to get for- 
 ward in life that our situation affords, we must 
 then humbly commit the issue to Him "who 
 directeth our way." Trust in Him, pray to him, 
 and obey him, and he will protect, and as he 
 sees it good, promote you. We cannot, you 
 
300 LETTERS. 
 
 know, command success, but we can do our 
 best to deserve it ; and what is more, we can, 
 taught by the word of God, reap good even from 
 disappointment. I beheve, and earnestly hope, 
 you will become attached to your academical 
 duties and an academical life ; and so feeling 
 you will perform your duties with spirit : and 
 take, as a precious companion, the assurance that 
 Almighty God will never forsake those who 
 serve him with singleness of heart. 
 
 Believe me, dearest , your affectionate 
 
 father and sincere friend. 
 
 D. Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh, April 2%, 1817. 
 
 My dearest D , 
 
 I am sorry that as your letter of the 
 23d reached me on Sunday, it was not in my 
 power to write by return of post, to assure you 
 that while your conduct is so exemplary and 
 truly gratifying to my heart, you need not fear 
 my displeasure at a few pounds spent in 'proper 
 and rational enjoyment. You deserve, my dear 
 son, much more than it is in my power to bestow 
 upon you. Your ^'^farloiigh" from the dean and 
 your tutor was honourable to you, and still more 
 honourable was the modest use which you made of 
 it. You have made your own way, my beloved 
 son ; a little at first were you assisted by me j 
 but I could not have enabled you to deserve the 
 
LETTERS. 301 
 
 reputation you have ; and a more pleasing proof of 
 the opinion your friends at Christ Church hold 
 of you, could not have been given, than the 
 event of which your letter to-day informs me. 
 To be thought fit to stand for a scholarship, 
 where the candidates may be bachelors, as well 
 as undergraduates, shows sufficiently how high 
 you stand. Your chance of succeeding is, I 
 fancy, very slight ; but I care not comparatively 
 for your success ; even should you gain the prize, 
 I hardly know whether I shall be more gratified 
 than I am by having you thought capable of 
 contending for it. I shall be well pleased to 
 hear from you of the event of Tuesday ; and of 
 this I am persuaded, that whether you are a 
 craven scholar or not, you will have done your- 
 self honour. 
 
 I have only one thing on the subject of money 
 to say, and that is, I beseech you as you love 
 me, never to make a moment's difficulty about 
 sending for money ; you deserve all that I can do 
 for you, and you must not allow yourself to be 
 uneasy ; I have a confidence unbounded in your 
 discretion and affection, and there is no sacrifice, 
 were I called upon, which I am not, which I would 
 not make for your comfort and progress. So 
 now we know one another's minds, and never 
 make another difficulty. I show you that I con- 
 sult my own convenience by telling you when 
 you are to have the money you want, and there- 
 fore pray be easy on the subject. How often 
 
302 LETTERS. 
 
 have I repeated the word **easy?" — pray, be 
 " aisy," my dear. 
 
 I am not so anxious about your obtaining the 
 prize, as about your not sending an inaccurate 
 fifty Hues, — opere in longo, fas est obrepere 
 somnum, — ^but not in a composition so straitened 
 in point of room. You would have written more 
 easily an epic poem on Hercules. I am sure you 
 will sympathize with my anxiety ; indeed my 
 anxiety, without apprehension, is alive about you 
 day and night. I am going to work omnibus 
 
 viribus, with J to read Greek and Latin till 
 
 he goes to Glasgow, and he is inflamed with 
 your credit, just as I wish him to be. Oh ! what 
 good your conduct has done, in making all your 
 family and friends happy about you, and exciting 
 
 in J all the feelings which do good, for they 
 
 are combined with affectionate triumph in you. 
 If my band of sons be knit together, I have no 
 fears ; for, although I cannot give my daughters 
 fortunes, I can leave them faithfiil and kind pro- 
 tectors. You can imagine the glistening eyes 
 with which your letter to-day was read. I have 
 known men stand for the C. S., but I never 
 heard of any so young at Oxford as yourself; 
 and you could not have had a greater honour 
 bestowed on you by your college. I am sure 
 you will not allow a disappointment to vex you, 
 for you have already received the most material 
 part in being appointed and advised by your 
 tutor to stand. 
 
LETTERS. 303 
 
 Your mother wishes to have the remainder of 
 my paper ; and, as I have nothing more to add, 
 I will here conclude with the assurance of the 
 affection and blessing of your father, 
 
 D. Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh, May 29, 1817. 
 
 My dearest D , 
 
 I congratulate you on your honours as 
 an uncle ; our dear Fanny was delivered of a 
 daughter about half an hour ago, and is doing, 
 as the phrase is, as well as can be expected. It 
 is somewhat singular, that a child of Charles 
 Lane should be born on the 29th day of May, 
 the Restoration. She is a true King' s-JBromley 
 Lane, God bless her. 
 
 I am more pleased than I can tell you with 
 your letter of this day. The dignity of candour 
 
 with which you speak of Mr B *s verses has 
 
 given me ten times more pleasui'e than to hear 
 you had won the prize. Upon receiving the 
 Oxford paper from Yonge yesterday, I find that 
 
 Mr B is the son of a man for whom I had 
 
 the highest regard ; he was surgeon at Sunbury 
 when I resided there, a man of great abilities and 
 excellent character. His mother, who is also 
 dead (once Miss Shergold), was one of the 
 sweetest women I ever knew. I do not know 
 another young man, next to yourself, in whose 
 honour I could rejoice more. I wish you knew 
 
304 LETTERS. 
 
 him, to tell him so. I am on all accounts glad to 
 hear of this young man's character and abilities. 
 His aunt, Miss Shergold, if she still bears that 
 name, is a most valuable and excellent woman ; 
 and has been as a mother to Mr B — 's chil- 
 dren. If any accident bring you near B , do 
 
 tell him I wish him well with all my heart, — 
 your mother joins me, from our sincere regard to 
 his excellent parents. 
 
 The whole of your letter is pleasing to me. 
 Your observations on the subject, and determi- 
 nations to exert yourself the more for your dis- 
 appointment, do you the highest honour. Your 
 quotation from the poem is well, and the " Athos" 
 line I liked much. The letter itself is at Fanny's, 
 and I cannot quote the words ; but there was 
 merit in the thought. I have done with the sub- 
 ject now, shutting it up by saying, that in your 
 conduct since your first letter, you have exhibited 
 to me a proof of right feeling and of right mind, 
 that I shall never forget, and shall never cease to 
 be grateful for to Him, " who ruleth the heart." 
 My dearest son, you may win or lose prizes, but 
 you can never lose " the peace" which arises 
 from the sense of doing your duty. We cannot 
 command events ; but it is a sign of a well dis- 
 ciplined mind and heart, to conduct ourselves to 
 the utmost of our power well, and submit the 
 event to the guidance of wisdom greater than 
 our own, — you will not misunderstand me. 
 
 D. Sandford. 
 
LETTERS. 305 
 
 Edinburgh, January 24, 1818. 
 
 My dear D , 
 
 I am glad to hear of your safe return to 
 the Old Library after a happy vacation ; and I 
 have no doubt that, through God's grace, you 
 will endeavour to purchase to yourself another 
 happy vacation at the close of the current term, 
 by the same industry and good conduct which 
 produced such an honourable and pleasing con- 
 clusion of your last term. I cannot, however, 
 forbear expressing some regret at your determi- 
 nation not to write for either of the prizes. You 
 say that you have no chance of winning one j 
 now, will you allow me to observe, that the 
 merit of the institution of the prizes, does not, in 
 my opinion, arise from the prize itself, but from 
 the exercise in which the pursuit of it engages 
 so many vigorous young minds ? The honour of 
 the laurel can descend but on one head ; but the 
 good arising from the studies, and the medita- 
 tion, and the exertion necessary to contending 
 for it, is equally and efficiently extended to all 
 who contend. In comparison with this effect, 
 the prize itself sinks to nothing. A thousand 
 circumstances may rob you of the honour of 
 victory ; but nothing can deprive you of the 
 benefit arising from the contest — In this way the 
 subject should be considered. To estimate the 
 advantage arising from the institution, I ask not 
 who is successful, but how many have written ? 
 
 VOL. I. u 
 
306 LETTERS. 
 
 150 young men may write for the Latin verse, 
 one gets the prize ; but 150 have been induced 
 to read and think, invent and compose, and are 
 all gainers in the end. 
 
 Had you determined to exert yourself in the 
 Latin verses, I intended to write to you very 
 fully on the subject. " The siege and destruc- 
 tion of Jerusalem by Titus," is, in whatever light 
 viewed, one of the finest and most fruitful topics 
 that could have been proposed, — the tremendous 
 fulfilment of prophecy uttered by Moses, before 
 the Israelites had even entered the land of Ca- 
 naan, — the fulfilment of the prophecies of our 
 Lord and Saviour, — the subject of a description 
 by Josephus, which is one of the most affecting 
 pieces of writing ever produced by the elo- 
 quence of man. Bear with my pedantry while I 
 quote one short passage : it is from the fifth 
 chapter of the sixth book of the Jewish war ; 
 which chapter is entitled, " ' H rcHv 'lovloticov sx roD 
 Nccov zaiofjbipov rccXcci'^cogia.'* I am particularly 
 struck with the following words, taiv rs ycio V^fjuai- 
 Kuv rayihdrcov hCkakay^oq riv ffv[Jb(ps^o[jijSV!i}V, zut rm 
 Graff iccaroiv 'ttv^I ku} ffihrj^M KiKUKkcoyAvuv jc^avy^y rov re 
 aToXzKp&kvrog dvu Xoiov r^oTfj rs [Jb&r* ef/jTrKtj^SMg slg rovg 
 "toXefJi/tovg, Kut Tgog TO IIAGOS oif/jcoycci' avvz^occ 
 ^g roig W) rov X6<pou ro Kara, rrjv toXiv TX^og' TJ'bT^ 'hi 
 ToXXoi ru) Xi^M ^a^am^jivoi kuI (/jZ^VKongy ug slihov ro 
 rov vaov irv^, sig ohv^fjbovg TraXiv xai z^avyrjv surovriffav 
 cvvYiy^zi V ri rs -TTs^ata, tea) ra ts^i^ ogfj, (Ba^vre^av toi- 
 ovvra r'^v o^f/j^v tjv ^s rov ^o^v(^ov ra Tadri (po^s^urs^a. 
 
LETTERS. 307 
 
 I envy not the obtuseness of that man who can 
 read this portion of Josephus' History unmoved. 
 His account of the miseries and crimes of the 
 famine is full of all the dark and overpowering 
 dignity of ^schylus, — when compared with the 
 prophecy of Moses in the xxviii chapter of Deu- 
 teronomy, it is a confirmation of the truth of 
 God's word to make unbelievers repent and 
 adore. The passage which I have quoted, pre- 
 sents images of horror and distraction that almost 
 deafen me as I read. You know, (to illustrate 
 the feelings I experience by a familiar example,) 
 Hogarth's picture of the enraged musician, — it 
 stuns you to look at it. Such is the effect of this 
 passage from Josephus on me. 
 
 Edinburgh^ January 27, 1818. 
 
 My dear D , 
 
 I am much pleased with some parts of 
 your letter to your mother received yesterday. 
 But I am not by any means sure that you are do- 
 ing the best and wisest of all things, by committing 
 yourself so unreservedly to the guidance of that 
 chivalric sentiment of honour, of which you speak 
 so earnestly. You will be much more secure if 
 you take religion for your director and ruler. 
 " Before honour," says the wisest of inspired 
 men, " is humility," — the distinguishing Chris- 
 tian virtue. The origin of honour is human 
 
 u 2 
 
308 LETTERS. 
 
 compact and opinion ; the source of religion is 
 Divine. The effect of the principles in practice 
 is as different as their origins. Much as I re- 
 spect the sentiments of the Chevaher Bayard, the 
 Chevaher sans peur et sans reproche, I should 
 have infinitely less confidence in the votary of 
 honour, than in the humble unpretending Chris- 
 tian. The man of honour may perform the 
 duties, and fulfil the obligations of life ; but I 
 know that the genuine faithful Christian will 
 perform them on principles which the opinions of 
 the world cannot effect. Tliere is a secret root 
 of pride in this honour which I am alarmed at. 
 The man of honour says, I must do nothing 
 beneath myself; nothing to disgrace myself i. e. 
 to disgrace myself in the opinion of other men of 
 honour. Now here is pride, and here is the set- 
 ting up a measure of right and duty other than 
 the law of God. The consequences of such a 
 proceeding are clear, and they are exemplified in 
 the daily lives of men of honour. Take, O take, 
 my beloved son, the precepts of Him who died 
 to save you, for your guide. — He will tell you 
 that in the two commandments. Love to God 
 and to your neighbour , you will find the source 
 of all moral duty, — these precepts contain all 
 that the law of honour contains, and mucli more. 
 ** In keeping of these you will have great reward, 
 even the tranquillity of a conscience void of 
 offence toward God and man," a reward not al- 
 ways the result of a life of honour merely. Do 
 
LETTERS. 309 
 
 not imagine by this that I despise the sentiment 
 as an instrmnent of good, — let it be under the 
 control of Christianity, and it will do no harm. 
 But I M''ould, nevertheless, wish my son to walk 
 by a higher rule. A man of honour disdains a 
 falsehood — well, a Christian does the same from 
 a nobler principle, " Lying lips are an abomina- 
 tion to the God whose he is, and whom he 
 serves." But, a man of honour may be a drunk- 
 ard, a debauchee, a seducer, without losing his 
 character. He may revile his God and Saviour 
 — he may profane the sabbath — break the com- 
 mandments of the second table — without for- 
 feiting this distinction. All this while what is 
 his real state ? He is dishonoured, disgraced, 
 wretched, and miserable, in the eyes of every 
 one who judges by the only law which will not 
 deceive us. The only true honour which I know 
 any thing about is the honour of a Christian, — 
 the high and holy distinction of one who is 
 taught of God, and guided by God's Spirit, — who 
 lives every day as in the presence of the judge 
 to whom he is accountable, and who has the 
 power to decide his eternal destiny. Forgive 
 me for all this admonition, my dear son, but I 
 am indeed very anxious to do the little good that 
 may yet be in my power to you, and others most 
 dear to me ; and to warn you against taking 
 counsel from the deception of your own heart, or 
 the vain opinions of the world ; rather than from 
 that law by which we are to be judged at the 
 
310 LETTERS. 
 
 last day. I beg you to do me the favour to get 
 and read Sir Richard Steele's beautiful little book, 
 called " The Christian Hero." I think no writer 
 has ever set this important question in a more in- 
 teresting light. I recommend the book to you 
 most earnestly, and pray God to bless your 
 perusal of it. It is, I suppose, easily to be found 
 in your booksellers' shops ; if not, you will pro- 
 bably find it in the College Library. I once 
 thought of publishing a new edition of it, it is 
 very valuable. 
 
 You may judge of the sincerity and earnest- 
 ness with which I write to you on this point, 
 when T tell you that I am oppressed with busi- 
 ness and very unequal to it ; yet I could not 
 omit an opportunity of doing good, or at least 
 attempting to do good to my dear son. Adieu, 
 my dear son, with love from all here, and with 
 my prayers for God's blessing on you, I am your 
 affectionate father and most sincere friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 The chapel is recovering fast, the damage will 
 not, I trust, exceed £250. 
 
 Edinburgh, May 26, 1821. 
 
 My dearest , 
 
 It is not easy for me to express the 
 satisfaction with which I read your last kind 
 letter ; and observed the just and pious views 
 with which you contemplate yoiu" future pro- 
 
LETTERS. 311 
 
 fession. I pray that the blessing of Ahnighty 
 God may attend you j that you may be assisted 
 by his Holy Spirit to fulfil the purposes with 
 which you undertake its sacred duties ; and that, 
 above all, you may be permitted, with humble 
 confidence in his mercy, to look forward, *'in all 
 the chances and changes of this mortal life," to 
 the reward annexed to his blessed promise, " yivov 
 TKJTog a%^< S-afaVoy kou }iuBco aoi rov ari(pocvov TH2 
 ZnH2." In the studies of your profession you 
 will find the noblest subjects for the exercise 
 of your talents, — in its offices, the most truly 
 gratifying employment of your time, your under- 
 standing, and your heart, — in its ultimate recom- 
 pense, the most elevating object of pursuit worthy 
 ambition, and exposed to no casualty or failure. 
 
 I need not, I am sure, tell you, that if you 
 decide on this important step, after due delibera- 
 tion, I shall receive you with paternal affection 
 as the most delightful companion in my studies 
 as a clergyman. I do want some clerical 
 friend with whom to converse on those topics 
 which are not of general acceptance, but to you 
 and me are essential. I shall rejoice in your 
 advancement; and while you gain a better re- 
 ward from the inward consciousness of exertions 
 in your duty, I anticipate the distinction as a 
 minister of God's word, which you will justly 
 acquire. In tlie present day, such distinction is 
 of importance, as an instrument of good. Per- 
 sonal satisfaction, a wise and good man will 
 
312 LETTERS. 
 
 scarcely find in the applause of crowds ; but he 
 will contemplate popularity, if he attain it, as 
 such a man will do, without any sacrifice of 
 conscience and truth, as a readier means of ex- 
 tending the good he desires to do to wider circles. 
 
 I have this morning received a most gratifying 
 
 letter from , and a very amusing one. He 
 
 is reading a great deal ; and I trust he does not 
 assume the appearance of good spirits to conceal 
 any harm which his health may receive from 
 
 his industry I am indeed proud of my sons, 
 
 and most grateful to Almighty God for such 
 blessings. 
 
 I am still where you left me ; but intend to 
 try myself on my feet next week. The length 
 of my confinement has rendered it now very 
 tedious ; and I am inclined to think, that as to 
 improvement I am stationary. Nevertheless, 
 it is not without hope of recovery, that I look 
 to the termination of my imprisonment, — my 
 first attempt is to be made on the 9th next 
 month : I must be on my feet, however, some 
 days before that time, &c. &c. 
 
 D. Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh, June 3, 1821. 
 
 My dearest D , 
 
 Real joy is not loquacious. A few 
 words will assure you of my delight in your 
 
LETTERS. 313 
 
 most deserved success ; of which the news from 
 
 yourself, dear F , and dear J , has made 
 
 us all wild to-day. You have done us all good. 
 Could you have seen the happy faces round my 
 bed this morning, you would have been pleased. 
 Sarah had got hold of the letters, and seeing a 
 word, " vicit," on the corner of John's, she tore 
 it open, and came bursting into my room with — 
 " D has won the prize !" 
 
 I am indeed gratified in the most sensible man- 
 ner, and am most thankful for the mercies 
 bestowed on me through my own beloved chil- 
 di'en. Let me assure you, that more than with 
 your academic honours am I gratified with the 
 kind share you so affectionately expressed, in 
 the satisfaction which I and your dear mother 
 would receive from them. Again, I cannot ex- 
 press the comfort I felt in dear J 's fraternal 
 
 exultation. These things are to a parent more 
 delightful than any external distinction. Well 
 may I be proud and happy in my children, — and 
 your amiable and affectionate regard for each 
 other and your happy parents^ well repays all 
 anxieties and exertions for you. I fear you have 
 
 interfered with the sobriety of dear W *s 
 
 mind to-day ; — I never saw dear E look more 
 
 delighted. What a sight to me, who had just 
 been asking for you all the blessings of Him 
 " who maketh men to be of one mind in an 
 house !" 
 
 I am desired to cease, that this may go to the 
 
314 LETTERS. 
 
 post immediately, — so God bless you all, prays 
 your exulting, happy, and affectionate father, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
LETTERS 
 
 HIS DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Edinhurghi May 1, 1810. 
 
 My dearest F , 
 
 By the time that you receive this, you 
 will be safe under the hospitable roof, to which 
 you have been, with so much cordiality, invited. 
 I cannot express all that I feel towards Mrs 
 
 J of her tender care I am sure that my dear 
 
 girl will be sensible, and I need not call upon 
 her to be grateful, for she wants no monitor but 
 her own good heart. 
 
 I am glad to hear you were so well employed 
 on Sunday at Lancaster ; but I did not know 
 that there was a cathedral there. It is no 
 bishop's see. It is itself in the diocese of Car- 
 lisle. The book which Mrs liad the good- 
 ness to put into your hand, is, I fancy, a very 
 old and favourite friend of mine, known by the 
 name of " Gastrell's Institutes." If I am right, 
 you will find it a summary of Christian doctrines 
 and duties, arranged under separate heads, and 
 
316 LETTERS. 
 
 drawn up in the words of Scripture. It was 
 a great favourite of my dear mother's, and 
 many a happy hour have I passed in reading 
 it with her. If you can get a copy, it is well 
 worth your buying, as I shall be glad to have 
 it in the house. I should wish you to read 
 
 Paley's Evidences, with which Mrs will 
 
 furnish you, and half an hour in the morning 
 will be well bestowed on the perusal of it ; and 
 another half-hour now and then, when you are 
 quite well, and quite at leisure, in sending me 
 some remarks. Paley's Natural Theology ought, 
 in point of order, to be read first ; but I believe 
 you must wait to read that, till you and I can 
 sit down to it together ; some anatomy is re- 
 quired, which 1 can furnish you with, and with- 
 out which you cannot read the book to any good 
 purpose. 
 
 I am, by God's blessing, daily recovering j and 
 in the afternoon of Sunday did the whole duty ; 
 an exertion which, you know, I have not made 
 for many months. I was fatigued, more from 
 heat than any other cause. In the excellent 
 climate to which you are removed, you will, I 
 suppose, talk of the beauties and enjoyments of 
 May, a language in Scotland used by those only 
 who are licensed to deal in fiction, namely poets. 
 
 I expect to hear from my sweet child some 
 account of a Cumberland lake. Write to me a 
 long story, at your leisure, (five minutes a day 
 will do a great deal in a week,) of your observa- 
 
LETTERS. 317 
 
 tions on the country, &c. You will gain much 
 in drawing, if you will follow the instructions 
 
 and example of Miss , who has learned 
 
 chiefly from the best of all teachers. Nature her- 
 self, and her own excellent taste. I do not pre- 
 tend to be critically acquainted with drawing, — 
 but every one who has not been spoiled by bad 
 instruction can form a judgment of the effect of 
 drawing as a picture of Nature, and 1 think Miss 
 
 's drawings the best I ever saw. I have no 
 
 doubt of your improvement at , and I have 
 
 many reasons which I might give you, to urge 
 you to acquire this pleasing art. These reasons 
 amount in number to some hundreds ! ! two will 
 at present suffice, — as a first very strong induce- 
 ment to my beloved , I will mention that she 
 
 will give me great pleasure by drawing well, — as 
 a second reason, that she will furnish herself with 
 a valuable and elegant source of amusement. 
 
 I need not enumerate all who send their love 
 and best wishes to you ; you know who they are, 
 and none of them more fervently prays that God 
 may bless, protect, and guide you, than your 
 affectionate father and sincere friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh, May 17, 1810. 
 
 My dearest F , 
 
 We were much gratified by the packet 
 from , which I received to-day. I trust 
 
318 LETTERS. 
 
 that, through the blessing of God, we shall not 
 be disappointed in the hopes you give us of re- 
 stored health and strength — ^the greatest bless- 
 ing, next to a good conscience, that this life 
 affords. You ask kindly for an account of me, — 
 I hope that I may look forward to some health 
 and ease yet ; but I have been much distressed 
 by the late bad weather and biting east winds, 
 which find their way to me, although I venture 
 to expose myself to them as little as possible. 
 I am glad to think that my dear child is not 
 within their reach. 
 
 I am pleased with your account of your pur- 
 suits, and most truly obliged to Mrs , for 
 
 the kindness with which she allows you to read 
 to her. You are now, my sweet child, in a situ- 
 ation where you may gain much improvement, 
 if you do not neglect your advantages. What I 
 
 have much admired in Mrs ^'s notions on the 
 
 subject of improvement, when I have conversed 
 with her in Edinburgh, is the method which 
 she has adopted, and taught her daughters to 
 adopt, in the management of time and occupa- 
 tions. During your happy days at — — , you 
 may gain much, my love, by following their 
 example. Among those persons, (and young 
 ladies are generally supposed to be of the de- 
 scription,) who have no settled employments 
 methodically arranged and pursued, it appears to 
 me that one of the most common faults is want 
 of arrangement in their occupations, which draws 
 
LETTERS, 319 
 
 after it many bad consequences, and especially a 
 carelessness of time itself. From this conse- 
 quence, and several others as bad, you may 
 learn to guard yourself by the advice of your 
 kind friend. I wish you, my beloved child, to 
 gain this good lesson where you now are. No 
 acquisitions of value can ever be made by that 
 fluttering, butterfly way of going from one sub- 
 ject to another, without permitting the mind to 
 exert its attention, which is so common among 
 young people. If this once become a settled 
 habit of the mind, adieu to all sound knowledge 
 or real improvement. What is really valuable in 
 knowledge must be sought for below the surface, 
 — the French express it well, " il faut appro- 
 fondir." If in the time of life to which you are 
 arrived, this habit be not gained of fixed atten- 
 tion and regular distribution of time and occupa- 
 tion, we are apt to get into a dislike of every 
 thing that requires thought and labour, (and no- 
 thing is truly valuable that does not require 
 both,) and to be contented with frivolous pur- 
 suits, — " a youth of folly" ending in an "age of 
 cards." From this danger I wish my dear girl 
 to be defended ; and one reason which strongly 
 induced me to consent to your excursion with 
 
 Mrs , was my confidence that you would 
 
 learn this from your friends where you are. I 
 do not give you any farther directions about 
 
 what you are to read, I leave that to Mrs , 
 
 but I will give you my earnest direction that 
 
320 LETTERS. 
 
 whatever you are about, you employ your whole 
 attention — do not wander — do not trifle — rather 
 lay down a book than read it carelessly, and if 
 Mrs is so good as to point out any arrange- 
 ment of your employments, keep steadily to it, — 
 if your health permit, you must then make a pro- 
 gress. I think that the want of 7nind and atten- 
 
 tion in your studies at , made the time you 
 
 passed there of no use to you. At Miss W 's 
 
 it appeared to me that you were getting into a 
 right course ; and now, with the helps you have, 
 you may get rid of volatility, and do a great deal 
 in a little time. I do not want you to read a 
 great deal; but I wish you to avail yourself of 
 the present opportunity to open your mind on all 
 occasions ; and, from the examples about you, 
 to think the time lost in which you are not mak- 
 ing some acquisition of knowledge or observa- 
 tion. Some people go through life in a cloud : — 
 muzzing always, like the girl in the Alps, who 
 had lived till ten years old at the foot of a moun- 
 tain, and when a traveller chanced to ask her 
 what was the name of it, she looked up, and 
 said in her patois, " Dear me, I never saw that 
 hill before ! I do not know what they call it." 
 This ridiculous story is related somewhere, and 
 there is a good moral in it. I fancy such inob- 
 servant young persons might be picked up almost 
 every where. I expect my dear girl to become 
 a sensible woman, fond of reading and conversa- 
 tion, and thus (I am very selfish, you see,) quali- 
 
LETTERS. 5^1 
 
 fied to make me as delightful a companion by 
 her inteUigence and observation, as she always 
 will be by her affection and amiability. 
 
 I have written a great deal on this subject ; 
 but it is one of so much consequence, that I am 
 
 sure my dear will read what I have written 
 
 with attention. I am sure that if you ask Mrs 
 
 's opinion on this matter you will find her 
 
 agree with me, for I am much mistaken if she 
 would not at once declare that the neglect of 
 method and attention is the crying sin of the 
 young of the present day. 
 
 Your mother sends you medical advice and 
 direction, so I will not add any thing on that 
 subject, although I feel so much interested in it. 
 Your affectionate father and friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 June 12th, 1810. 
 My dearest Child, 
 
 Your interesting letter which I received 
 to-day gave me much distress, at the same time 
 that it also gave me pleasure. To know that my 
 sweet girl suffers so much and so unceasingly is 
 very afflicting, as, on the contrary, her pious and 
 affectionate sentiments are as consolatory to me. 
 We cannot, my dear child, command health or 
 hfe ; they and every thing belonging to us are in 
 the hands of a higher power ; — but we can do a 
 great deal towards acquiring habits of submission 
 
 VOL. I. X 
 
3^2 LETTERS. 
 
 and resignation to the will of God : we can la- 
 bour to make a right use of the dispensations of 
 His providence, and, by so doing, alleviate pre- 
 sent suffering, and excite future hope. If this 
 good use be made of sickness, we shall find it far 
 from the gloomy disconsolate state which they, 
 who do not know how to use it, are apt to think 
 it, — and, whether it please God to restore us to 
 health, or protract our trial, we shall bless His 
 gracious goodness for the visitation. You are 
 certainly acquainted with the exhortation in the 
 office for the sick, — read it often, my love, it con- 
 tains, in a small space, all the topics upon which 
 a pious mind would wish to meditate. 
 
 Before I say more to you of yourself, I have a 
 mind to cheer you by a good account of myself. 
 I know you must have suffered from your mo- 
 ther's sad account of me, and am therefore 
 desirous that you should know with the same 
 sincerity, that I have much reason to bless God 
 for His goodness to me. I do not fancy that 
 there will be any need of the operation with 
 which I was threatened, as I am very much im- 
 proved within these few days. Had there been 
 reason for performing it, or should there be yet 
 reason for it, my beloved child must not be 
 alarmed at the word operation. I learn, by ex- 
 perience, that these things are much magnified 
 by imagination, and I assure you that till things 
 mended with me so much as they have done 
 lately, I suffered, without wincing, more pain. 
 
LETTERS. 323 
 
 every hour, than any surgeon could give me by 
 all that was intended to be done. I had no 
 alarm about the pain ; I dreaded the confinement. 
 However, should it take place, I am provided 
 with a resource, for I am anxious to learn 
 Arabic, and had destined the acquisition of the 
 grammar to the employment of my leisure during 
 my imprisonment. But I believe I shall not 
 have such an opportunity of adding to my stock. 
 Be, therefore, at ease about me : for should the 
 worst take place, there is nothing but confine- 
 ment that is unpleasant. I care not for John 
 Bell and his lancet, I assure you. — I desire you 
 will be assured that I here tell you " the truth, 
 and nothing but the truth." 
 
 I hope that the weather with you is as our 
 weather, which is more like June than is usual 
 in Scotland. Farmers are bellowing like their 
 
 own bulls for rain ; — and E brought us 
 
 word yesterday, that, by an inspection of the 
 best meteorological journals, there had not occur- 
 red so long a drought since the time of the 
 Spanish Armada, an odd epoch upon such an 
 occasion. 
 
 My beloved child may readily suppose that I 
 am rejoiced at her account of her religious read- 
 ing. I have often considered it as one of the 
 greatest blessings of sickness, that it turns our 
 thoughts, and fashions our taste to the studies of 
 all the most important and the most delightful. 
 I know that *' it is good for me that I have been 
 
 X 2 
 
3i2-i LETTERS. 
 
 afflicted," and I assure you that, in the midst of 
 all that severe pain which I suffered two years 
 ago, I would not have exchanged my comfort 
 in the Psalms for all the enjoyments of good 
 health, if that good health had been to lead 
 to carelessness of religious thoughts and duties. 
 The commentary of Home should be familiar to 
 you. I found comfort unspeakable from the 
 daily perusal of the Psalms appointed for the 
 day, with the good Bishop's meditations on them. 
 They raised my mind above the body, and I felt 
 even in my severest distress, support and conso- 
 lation from the conviction that submission to 
 God's will, and patience under trial, were means 
 of qualifying us for the " better things to come," 
 of which we have assurance in the gospel. I had 
 a practice of repeating under my worst fits of 
 pain, certain texts of Scripture ; how they re- 
 lieved the paroxysm is not to be told. The chief 
 one was, — " Now no chastening for the present 
 seemeth to be joyous but grievous, nevertheless, 
 afterwards, it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of 
 righteousness unto them that are exercised there- 
 by." Heb. xii. 
 
 That my beloved F at this, and every 
 
 period of her life, may find true comfort and true 
 Christian elevation of mind from such medita- 
 tions, is the ever fervent prayer accompanied 
 with every blessing that tenderness and affection 
 can pronounce over her, of her father and sin- 
 cerest friend. 
 
LETTERS. S^5 
 
 Your mother adds some lines from herself, so 
 I will say no more, than that to-day (13th June,) 
 I am continuing easier, and my prospects of 
 ultimate recovery, I hope, improve. Keep up 
 your spirits, my love, this is a religious duty. 
 
 E is going to Cramond ; is well and 
 
 gone to ; W working and reading 
 
 French ; D gone to the High School, 
 
 whence he will come back to talk nonsense 
 which he calls wit, and repeat scraps of plays, 
 
 some of his own, and some borrowed. S is 
 
 well and active ; it is not easy to say what she is 
 
 doing, or will do next minute. J is at 
 
 Latin and Lindsay's. He gained great credit at 
 the examination, repeated Cato, and was called 
 the Orator, The good ladies at the examination 
 remarked, " Ey, the Bishop's son is a great ora- 
 tor : Ey, and so was Master Dunnid" 
 
 July 9, 1810. 
 My dearest F , 
 
 Your letter produced in me a mixed 
 sensation of satisfaction and distress. While I 
 am grieved at the continuance of your illness, 
 yet I am convinced that you have not any 
 symptoms that are alarming. If it please God 
 to spare you to us, your constitution will, I 
 hope, become stronger, and I am sure you 
 will find your mind, the better part of you, im- 
 
326 LETTERS. 
 
 proved by the discipline of this visitation of our 
 heavenly Father. 
 
 I am convinced that your friends are right in 
 wishing you to exert yourself, and do every thing 
 but think of your complaints. I am getting 
 better every hour, but still, I have now and then 
 relapses, which might make me indulge my- 
 self in withdrawing myself from activity, if I 
 were not convinced that I should only be so 
 much the worse for it, and every day more and 
 more unfit for exertion. I have not, I never 
 had, nor perhaps would it be good for me to 
 have strong health ; but I find that it is easier to 
 exert myself and to do my duties than I should 
 certainly do, if I w^ere to yield to my complaints, 
 and my health and spirits are consequently im- 
 proving. Though I cannot climb Arthur's seat, 
 I can climb into my own pulpit, which is all I 
 wish to do. You and I, I hope, shall have many 
 a pleasant walk together ; and many a happy and 
 improving hour together. I, once in a very de- 
 plorable state of health, set myself to learn ma- 
 thematics, and I found the attention requisite at 
 first very painful, yet by perseverance and by 
 some violence to the " natural man," it became 
 easy — my studies became delightful, and most 
 evidently useful to my spirits and my health. 
 At this moment when I am most distressed with 
 my complaints, I find a page of Hebrew well 
 conned over with the Lexicon, the best remedy 
 against languor and despondency. I wish my 
 
LETTERS. 3^7 
 
 very beloved to take some of this physic, 
 
 and I am ahnost sure she will find the advantage 
 of the prescription, and I shall consider myself 
 as having a right to the title of doctor of medi- 
 cine as well as divinity ; — and as I practice 
 without fees, I expect to have plenty of patients. 
 
 Edinburgh^ August \Qth, 1810. 
 
 My dearest F , 
 
 Your letter of yesterday I could not 
 answer on the moment, otherwise a day should 
 not have elapsed without bearing to you the 
 assurances of our affectionate sympathy in your 
 late pains. I am grateful beyond measure to my 
 invaluable friend for her maternal kindness, and 
 above all do I thank her for her benevolent exer- 
 tions in visiting you when she was herself so 
 poorly. This was not only an act of the tender- 
 est good will ; but my sweet child will acknow- 
 ledge herself to have learnt from it a valuable 
 christian lesson — that our indulgence of our- 
 selves is to be postponed to the acts which may 
 give comfort to our friends and fellow-creatures, 
 when they are in a situation to call for our kind 
 oJEfices. You are in a good school to learn this 
 lesson, of which the practice is essential to 
 domestic happiness, " the only bliss that has 
 survived the fall." You may show this letter to 
 Mrs W., for I am not able to write to her to-day, 
 
328 LETTERS. 
 
 and I wish her to know how I estimate her good- 
 ness to you, which, while it soothes your present 
 sufferings, does so without weakening your mind ; 
 and gives you comfort, while it teaches you by 
 her example, the fortitude which is as necessary 
 on the little, as on the great occasions of Hfe. 
 It is the neglect of such examples that produces 
 the unpleasant, imbecile character of a valetu- 
 dinarian. To your amiable friends who have 
 their share in these acts of real kindness, as well 
 as in your gratitude, pray say every thing from 
 us that is affectionate and grateful 
 
 It is too much the practice of the present day 
 to educate young women only for the drawing- 
 room, but the mind has no part in such institu- 
 tion; I am comforted more than I can say, when 
 I reflect that such is not the education that has 
 been pursued at L , 
 
 Adieu, my beloved child. Assure all our kind 
 friends again and again of our regards, and be- 
 lieve me, with love from all, your affectionate 
 father and faithful friend, 
 
 D. Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh, October ^0, 1811. 
 
 My dearest F , 
 
 I received your letter by Mr to- 
 day, and hasten to assure you that I should have 
 written to your friend Miss — — by this time. 
 
LETTERS. 329 
 
 had I not been told that she was not jet gone to 
 Cheltenham. I shall now lose no tmie in doing 
 so, although she does not require any consolation 
 or exhortation from me, and I can do no more 
 than say for myself^ what I have no doubt you 
 have said for me, that she has my very sincerest 
 sympathy in her affliction. It must have been 
 very gratifying to you to see so much of her, 
 and I daresay she was no less pleased. 
 
 I would caution my sweet girl not to let her 
 sensibility overcome her too much. I fear Miss 
 
 's departure distressed you too severely, and 
 
 you must be on your guard, when you part 
 with other friends who have been kind to you. 
 To feel is amiable ; but to feel too keenly is 
 injurious both to mind and body ; and a 
 habit of giving way to sensibility, which we 
 should endeavour to regulate, though not to era- 
 dicate, may end in a morbid weakness of mind, 
 which may appear to romantic persons very 
 gentle and very interesting ; but will undoubted- 
 ly render the victims of it very useless in society. 
 Our feelings were given us to excite to action^ and 
 when they end in themselves they are impressed 
 to no one good purpose that I know of. This 
 is the chief reason why novels are so dangerous 
 to young persons. My dear will be per- 
 suaded that I say this from motives of the ten- 
 derest affection to her, and because I would have 
 her not stifle the good and amiable emotions of 
 her heart, but direct them rightly. I would not 
 
330 LETTERS. 
 
 have my child become one of those, of whom it 
 may be said, that they feel and only feel. It is 
 the most absurd and useless of all characters. 
 
 I am glad to find that you have Watts, and 
 recommend you to proceed in noting down from 
 memory what you read. Do this with attention 
 and patience, without hurry. Take time to it. 
 Young people, and especially girls, injure their 
 habits of attention to a great degree, by doing- 
 things in a hurry, which will not he done in a 
 hurry. We male creatures have one advantage, 
 in the study of mathematics, which requires close, 
 patient, and undivided attention ; and the atten- 
 tion which we are taught to bestow on Euclid's 
 Elements, we learn to transfer to other things ; 
 and this is the whole secret of the observation 
 that men generally reason better than w^omen. 
 They do so, I believe, generally, and only be- 
 cause they are obliged, while they are learning to 
 be men, to cultivate the habit of attention. 
 
 Your Mother, &c. unite in kindest love to you, 
 
 with my dear 's affectionate Father and 
 
 sincerest friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh^ January 24>th, 1812. 
 
 My dearest F , 
 
 I have been out of town for a day or 
 
 two, at the marriage of Miss of , and 
 
 returned yesterday, too late to write by the post 
 
LETTERS. 331 
 
 of this morning, which I should otherwise have 
 done, and entreated you not to permit your ima- 
 gination to suggest to you any unfounded notions 
 of my forgetfulness of my dear child. I have 
 been very much occupied of late in my prepara- 
 tions for lectures on the Psalms, Catechism, &c., 
 and have allowed myself to delay from time to 
 time to write to you, as I always intended. Let 
 this be my reason for my silence. I fear, if you 
 are not inclined to be very candid, you will not 
 consider it as an apology. But the best apology, 
 says Harry Erskine, for not writing, is to write 
 immediately ; therefore I say no more. 
 
 I am most happy and thankful to hear of my 
 beloved daughter's amended health, and above 
 all that your experience of the mercy of renovated 
 strength is accompanied by such a pious sense of 
 the Hand to whose bounty you owe that and 
 every other blessing. While you thus raise your 
 heart to the First great Cause of your enjoy- 
 ments, you are not likely to forget the instruments 
 which He has used to communicate His bounties 
 to you, and to fail in the sentiments and expres- 
 sions of gratitude to your kind and hospitable 
 friends. Observe in this, as in every thing else 
 that occurs in our intercourse with each other, 
 how God, by making man the instrument of good 
 to man, binds us together in charity and love. 
 He who confers a kindness, and he who acknow- 
 ledges the debt, thus alike contribute to the same 
 gracious end ! 
 
332 LETTERS. 
 
 It gives me much pleasure to see the right 
 dispositions of your mind towards the great duty 
 which I pray that God may enable you to perform 
 aright at the approaching festival of Easter. I 
 hope to be spared to give you my instructions 
 before you approach the Holy Table, but it gives 
 me great delight to observe that you have already 
 many just notions on the subject. The partici- 
 pation of the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper is 
 a duty so commanded by our Blessed Saviour, 
 that I do not see how any who call themselves 
 Christians can be easy under the neglect of it. 
 If it were limited to the mere commemoration of 
 His death, this would be the case ; but still more 
 is it enforced upon us by the benefits of which it 
 is the channel and instrument. When we meet 
 again I shall wish to explain this matter more 
 fully to you than I could attempt to do in a letter. 
 It is on account not only of the " remembrance 
 of Christ's death ;" but of that death as a sacrifice, 
 and " of the benefits whereof we are partakers 
 thereby," that we are required alike by the 
 direction of our Lord and Master, and the sense 
 of our own sins and infirmities, to attend the al- 
 tar. Yet the bare performance of this duty, how- 
 ever externally regular, is of no avail to us ; but 
 must rather increase our ■ condemnation ; upon 
 this plain principle, that grace unimproved will 
 be withdrawn, and the neglect of it must enhance 
 our guilt, — and in consequence of another esta- 
 blished fact in our nature, that religious 
 
LETTERS. 333 
 
 observances, unless they are improved, so as to 
 meliorate the heart and conduct, are very apt 
 to produce the directly contrary effect. It 
 is hence that I would most earnestly press 
 upon all Christians not to think more of their 
 preparation of mind, before they come to the 
 communion, than of their conduct after it : and 
 yet no mistake is more common. It is common, 
 because to the weakness of the human heart it is 
 very natural. Multitudes are anxious and regular 
 in outward performances, who do not always 
 remember that the spirit of such acts of religion 
 is to be carried into all parts of ordinary life, the 
 scenes in which the effects of religious duties are 
 to be visible. It is comparatively easy for a time 
 to withdraw from the world, and to commune 
 with our own hearts ; the difficulty which should 
 rouse all our vigilance and exercise all our caution 
 is to preserve the devotional spirit in the daily 
 and hourly engagements of life. This difficulty 
 I most earnestly pray to Almighty God, that my 
 
 dearest may be enabled to overcome by the 
 
 continued and unimpaired energy of a religious 
 spirit. The trial must last through life, but the 
 recompence of victory is eternal, — not bounded 
 by the frail and uncertain tenure of our present 
 existence. 
 
 I have had a very pious and interesting 
 
 letter from your amiable friend Miss . She 
 
 expresses more obligations to me than I deserve 
 at her hands. I shall endeavour soon to write to 
 
334 LETTERS. 
 
 her again. Few persons have been so severely 
 tried as she has been; but "whom the Lord loveth 
 he chasteneth.** If she continue to support her 
 trial as she has been enabled to do, hers will be 
 the portion which " eye hath not seen nor ear 
 
 heard." I was favoured by Miss with a 
 
 copy of some lines on the " heart's ease," written 
 by Mr Lowes, which I am delighted with. What 
 a loss to the world was such a young man ! It is 
 probable that the mind which produced the lines 
 of which I speak, has left behind many other 
 proofs of piety and elegance. If you have been 
 
 favoured by Miss with any such, I shall be 
 
 very much pleased to see them when you join 
 us. 
 
 Adieu, my beloved ; once more let me 
 
 entreat you not to imagine that I can neglect 
 intentionally a daughter, (you know I have a 
 partiality for daughters,) and a daughter whom I 
 love so dearly. Believe me, with all love from 
 all to yourself, ever, my dear child, your 
 affectionate Father and faithful friend. 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh^ Nov. 2d. 1814. 
 
 I have been much gratified by your 
 
 kind letter, my dear girl, and by the sentiments 
 
 of affection towards me which you express, and 
 
 which your conduct uniformly proves are not pro- 
 
LETTERS. 335 
 
 duced only by absence ; but are real and sincere. 
 I expect little beyond the precincts of my own 
 domestic circle ; but within that sacred precinct, 
 it is the greatest delight and solace of my life to 
 meet with the returns of affection. I have not 
 hitherto, blessed be God, been disappointed of 
 this comfort from any of my beloved children, 
 
 and least of all from my sweet F , in whose 
 
 tender regard for me I have very great satisfac- 
 tion. While I live, and retain my senses, I do 
 not think my children will, any of them, complain 
 of my insensibility to this their duty and love ; 
 but I am, from disposition and natural temper, 
 more inclined to prove my affection by acts than 
 words, and if I have been negligent in writing to 
 you, you must set it down, my love, to this ac- 
 count, as well as to the many interruptions which 
 have lately broken in upon me. 
 
 Since I returned from you know how 
 
 my time and thoughts have been engaged among 
 afflicted friends. The sad affliction which befel 
 
 the s came upon me immediately upon my 
 
 return. Then another family occupied me — and 
 
 after my return from I had much to do ; — 
 
 now poor lady requires my attention, and 
 
 hers is a very sad case 
 
 I am glad to find both from yourself and 
 
 that your excursion into Dumfries-shire has been 
 pleasant to you, and that you have been so fete ; 
 yet I am not less glad to find that you are ready 
 to come home to your father and mother. We 
 
336 LETTERS. 
 
 shall receive you with much delight. I begin to 
 lay plans for improvement and information, &c. 
 for the winter — and you must not laugh at me if 
 I say that I seriously wish to become your pupil 
 in Perspective, and to learn, if possible, to sketch 
 a barn-door and a pig-stye. I have learned from 
 
 to open my eyes, and I see beauties in 
 
 lights and shades and outlines of hills and other 
 picturesque objects, which give me great de- 
 light : and you and I shall find yet another hold 
 upon one another by our common taste for 
 landscape. 
 
 I suppose, and am glad to suppose, that you 
 
 arrange matters so as to come with Miss . 
 
 Alas ! what will she say to her former friend, the 
 
 miserable, abandoned Lady ! Many things 
 
 have lately occurred to shock a Christian beyond 
 expression — and nothing can be more shocking 
 than this elopement : except that there are found 
 persons from whom better things might be ex- 
 pected, so lost to right feeling and sound principle 
 as to justify this wickedness, " Nevertheless when 
 the Son of man cometh, shall he ^nd faith on the 
 earth ?" How often and how lamentably has 
 this text occurred to my mind of late ! How 
 fervently do I pray the Father of spirits to 
 preserve my beloved children from the " corrup- 
 tion that is in the world through sin." They can 
 be preserved only by faith in God, in Christ, and 
 steadfast endeavours to obey his commandments. 
 That this grace and every other blessing may be 
 
LETTERS. 337 
 
 bestowed on my dearest is the earnest 
 
 prayer of her affectionate Father and friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 January 17, 1814. 
 
 My dear S , 
 
 You ask me about the Crown Prince's 
 letter to his son's tutor. I confess my mind was 
 so much more occupied with the Crown Prince's 
 mihtary operations, that I read the letter you 
 mention with rapidity, and can give no opinion of 
 it, farther than that it appeared to me at the time 
 a yery sensible one. I am delighted with this 
 hero's humane conduct towards the suffering 
 exiles from Hamburgh ; — to wield arms against 
 the oppressor with one hand, and with the other 
 to extend mercy and support to the oppressed, 
 is truly great — it is the spirit of a Christian war- 
 rior : and we may trust that the blessing of 
 heaven will accompany such a man. What a 
 contrast this to the infamous Davoust. The most 
 pleasing thing I have seen in the papers for a 
 great while is Segur's proclamation to the people 
 of the department de I'Aube, which in the 
 gipsey jargon of the Revolution, means a part of 
 Champagne, which the Austrians are about to 
 enter ; and neither Segur nor his wicked master 
 can rouse the people to arms, probably for a very 
 good reason, namely, that the late conscription 
 has left very few capable of bearing arms, and 
 
 VOL. I. Y 
 
338 LETTERS. 
 
 that they, as well as the rest of their countrymen, 
 are backward to expose themselves only to pre- 
 serve the tyranny of Buonaparte. The hour of 
 dreadful restitution is perhaps, through the will 
 of God, arrived, and dreadful will it be to a 
 wretch like Buonaparte, who has no inward 
 principle of virtue and good conscience to sup- 
 port him under the trial. 
 
 I am writing politics to my little girl ; but the 
 politics of the present day are of the utmost mo- 
 ment. — You are reading Rollin, who will show 
 you how divine Providence brought about the 
 Revolutions in the Old World — the same irresis- 
 tible power and infinite wisdom are producing the 
 wonderful events of this day, and many a good 
 sermon may be read now in a Gazette and a 
 Newspaper. Well will it be for all of us, if we 
 apply the lesson to our own hearts, and learn 
 from it, in our own circumstances and condition, 
 that there is no sure protection but in the path of 
 duty, and no sure comfort under any trial but 
 "in a conscience void of offence towards God 
 and towards man." 
 
 My best blessing attend you, my dear child, 
 in all your studies ; in which I feel no doubt of 
 your improvement. Remember that "le genie, 
 c'est le travail," — here is a maxim of sovereign 
 truth in a few words. 
 
 Adieu my dear , and believe me ever 
 
 your affectionate Father and friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
LETTERS. 339 
 
 Edinburgh, January SI, 1814. 
 
 My dear S , 
 
 Your progress in Rollin is very satis- 
 factory. Your opinion of the Carthaginians is, I 
 think, very just. To the savageness of that 
 period they added a mean dirty poHcy, more 
 like little retail shopkeepers, than great mer- 
 chants, who ought to be liberal and generous 
 minded. Their great opponents, and ultimately 
 conquerors, were not a whit better in my judg- 
 ment. I do not remember the time, thanks to 
 the wholesome instructions of my excellent mo- 
 ther, when I did not hold the Romans in just 
 abhorrence. A few characters of virtue occa- 
 sionally appeared among them ; but they were, 
 as Dr Valpy says, " only the coruscation of 
 meteors, which served but to show the darkness 
 of the storm." The general character of these 
 celebrated Romans, whom schoolboys are taught 
 to consider the patterns of every thing good and 
 great, was detestable. Even in their most con- 
 spicuous actions there is a paradoxical virtue, 
 which looks very like wickedness. The savage 
 cruelty of the first Brutus, who witnessed the 
 execution of his own sons, and bid defiance to the 
 feelings of a parent, is not atoned for by the 
 pretence of patriotism. And the conduct of Re- 
 gulus, which has been so frequently extolled as 
 the noblest effort of a great mind, was, in my 
 
 Y 2 
 
34-0 LETTERS. 
 
 opinion, nothing but the result of a criminal 
 vanity. Contempt of life is a savage symptom ; 
 where it prevails — as it does now amongst the 
 Turks — the people are always barbarous and 
 wicked. However, from the portion of ancient 
 history which you are now reading, as from all 
 that you are yet to read, you may learn what 
 will confirm the awful history of the fall of 
 man, and of his sad inclination to evil, unless 
 controlled and restrained to good. There was 
 even left to the Gentiles, "in the times of ignor- 
 ance,'' sufficient light to lead them to such a por- 
 tion of truth as would have guided them to 
 virtue j but on that light they wilfully turned 
 their backs — their philosophers, by the exertions 
 of natural reason operating upon *' the witness 
 without which God never left them," of his 
 being, and power, and goodness, attained to 
 many just notions of the Deity, and of the pre- 
 sent duties and future hopes of man : but of 
 these notions they made no right use — " they 
 liked not," as St Paul says, " to retain God in 
 their knowledge," and kept the people in blind- 
 ness, " wilfully deceiving others," so that all 
 their discoveries did no good, and they were 
 corrupt, as well as those whom they should have 
 taught better things. But, as the word of God 
 declares, " they were without excuse." How 
 much more so are those who, in the full light of 
 Christianity, lead heathen lives. Yet such there 
 are, living proofs of the depravity to which man 
 
LETTERS. 341 
 
 may become subject through his own bUndness 
 and neghgence of divine grace. Past history and 
 present experience aUke, to a sensible observer, 
 confirm the truth of holy writ. Let us, my dear- 
 est child, remember that they do so, and labour 
 to make the proper use of their admonitions. 
 We know who hath said, " He that hath, (i. e. 
 retaineth and improveth,) to him shall be given 
 and he shall have more abundance ; and from 
 him who hath not, (that is, who neglects and 
 wastes his advantages,) shall be taken away even 
 that he hath." In the case of the philosophers 
 of the Gentile world, this was exemplified in the 
 most striking manner. Their abuse of the ad- 
 vantaares bestowed on them involved them in all 
 the horrible impurities and corruptions of idola- 
 try; — their negligence of the truths which were 
 accessible to them, at length terminated in the 
 dissemination of the doctrines of the Epicurean 
 philosophy (the prevalent and fashionable system 
 in the time of our Lord) which, denying a Pro- 
 vidence, removed the Creator from the govern- 
 ment and inspection of His creatures, and led, 
 by no long course to downright Atheism, the 
 last desolating corruption — the sum of the wiles 
 and temptations of the great enemy of mankind. 
 And in later times, want of faith, produced and 
 supported by the same principle (namely, the 
 neglect of God's merciful instructions), leads to 
 the same end, in conduct at least, thougli not 
 perhaps in words. There are few, or no specu- 
 
342 LETTERS. 
 
 lative Atheists, — there are, alas ! too many prac- 
 tical Atheists. 
 
 May God Almighty bless and guide my dear 
 child, in all her studies, that they may, as they 
 are calculated to do, make her a better Christian 
 every day, a more faithful servant of Him whose 
 grace will guide her here — whose ineffable mercy 
 promises blessings inconceivable hereafter. Thus 
 prays from the bottom of his heart, my dear 
 
 's affectionate Father and sincere friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh, August 25th, 1814. 
 
 My dearest S , 
 
 I hasten to answer your two questions. 
 1. With respect to the word " Selah," which oc- 
 curs above seventy times in the Psalms, and 
 three times in the prophet Habakkuk ; it is de- 
 rived from a Hebrew word or root " sel," which 
 signifies to raise, or elevate. " Selah" was, most 
 probably, a note of music, or a direction to the 
 singers in the temple service, to raise their voices 
 or instruments where it is inserted. Thus, the 
 Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old 
 Testament, constantly renders it by a word 
 which signifies a variation in singing and melody. 
 Perhaps you may wonder at a word of this sort 
 occurring in a prophetic writing; but you will 
 recollect that many of the Psalms themselves are 
 prophecies, containing predictions of the future 
 
LETTERS. 3i<3 
 
 kingdom of the Messiah — and also many alhi- 
 sions to the future fortunes of the Jews them- 
 selves : and it has been well remarked that no- 
 thing can be more interesting, than to observe 
 the worshippers in the temple chanting in 
 the service of divine worship the hymns in 
 which their own history in times to come was 
 portrayed by the hand of inspiration. Of the 
 nature of a psalm or divine song is the third 
 chapter of Habakkuk, in which this word "Selah" 
 occurs three times, verses 3, 9, IS. In the first 
 verse you will observe that it is called " a prayer 
 of Habakkuk the prophet upon ' Shigionoth.* " 
 This hard word is derived from a root, signify- 
 ing *' to run wild (as a plant),'* *' to expatriate 
 (as an exile)." You will see in the title of the 
 seventh Psalm, a word derived from the same 
 root, '* Shiggaion,*' signifying " wanderings" — 
 the Psalm being composed at the time when 
 David was flying from the persecutions of Saul. 
 The word " Shigionoth" in Habakkuk seems to 
 allude both to the deviations of the Jewish people 
 from God's law, and also their wanderings^ or 
 being removed from their land on that ac- 
 count, — and that the " Prayer" was designed for 
 the Temple-service we learn from the last verse, 
 in which it is directed '* to the chief musician." 
 The term " Shigionoth" is preserved in the text 
 of our Bibles, because, I believe, it was taken 
 on account of the words of the last verse, to sig- 
 nify some instrument of music, as " Heginoth," 
 
3M< LETTERS. 
 
 and many other like terms ; but in the margin 
 you will see, " according to variable songs or 
 tunes," and you may not perhaps go far wrong 
 if you were to read the verse, " a prayer or in- 
 tercession of Habakkuk the prophet, on the wan- 
 derings or transgressions ;" a version which will 
 express every allusion contained in the Avord, on 
 which I have sent you this formidable criti- 
 cism. 
 
 2. Your next question concerning the transla- 
 tions of the Psalms, may be answered in much 
 shorter space. The translation in the Common 
 Prayer Book is the earlier of the two : and was 
 printed originally in the Bible called Cranmer's 
 Bible. The translation in the Bible was made in 
 the reign of James I. of England. In my opin- 
 ion it is the more correct of the two. I have 
 compared them both with the Hebrew original 
 in many Psalms, and, as far as I am entitled to 
 give an opinion on the subject, my preference is 
 certainly to the translation in the Bible. They 
 are both beautiful. 
 
 Having now, I hope, sufficiently answered 
 your questions, I thank you for proposing them. 
 I am always pleased with such applications from 
 any person, much more so, when they come from 
 one of my own children. While I am upon the 
 subject, I will add, that I would recommend to 
 you to keep a paper by you, on which you may 
 write down any Biblical difficulties which occur 
 to you in your reading the holy Scriptures, and 
 
LETTERS. 345 
 
 I shall be always delighted to give you any aid I 
 can. You have no notion how much I gain by 
 such questions proposed to me. Many things 
 may be difficulties to ordinary readers which my 
 professional studies have made familiar to me ; 
 and it is therefore of the greatest use to me, as a 
 Clergyman, to have such difficulties pointed out. 
 I have asked many of my friends to pursue the 
 plan which I have recommended to you, but have 
 not found them persevere in keeping such a 
 paper. A chance question now and then reaches 
 me ; but I am confident that, especially in the 
 Epistles, difficult places are heard, not marked, 
 and the desire of having them interpreted perhaps 
 never awakened in the mind. I hope this will 
 never be your case — and under your present 
 valuable instructor it is not likely to be so. 
 
 Adieu my beloved child, and believe me your 
 affectionate Father, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 On looking again at what I have said about 
 *' Shigionoth," I find that I have one observation 
 more to make — and that is, that if the marginal 
 translation in the Bible be correct, and the 
 *' prayer" be " according to variable songs or 
 tunes," you will see at once the propriety of the 
 word '* Selah," marking the change of song or 
 measure. It is singular that in the Septuagint, 
 which is a translation of the greatest authority. 
 
34!6 LETTERS. 
 
 no notice is taken of *' Shigionoth," nor of " the 
 chief musician" in the last verse. The word 
 " Selah" is rendered as usual — and the whole 
 called simply the " prayer of Habakkuk. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Nov. 9, 1814. 
 
 My DEAREST E 
 
 I wish to devote this letter to useful 
 subjects, after premising my great satisfaction at 
 the accounts you give of your own improvement, 
 and entreating you not to lose any strength you 
 pick up, by neglecting to go out every day that 
 is go-out-able. Could I have ventured out to-day 
 I should have paid a second morning visit to 
 poor Mrs L C who, as the papers pro- 
 bably have told you, has lost her eldest son in his 
 way home from Halifax. This is the third 
 calamity of the same kind in my congregation 
 within two months ; and on the day after I had 
 accounts of L C *s death, I received ac- 
 counts of the loss of Mr L. of B's fourth son, 
 supposed to be drowned in an American prize 
 which he commanded. He has not been heard 
 of since December, and his family are reconciled 
 to his death. The sight of so much affliction, 
 my dear child, is very distressing. In the 
 instances with which I have been acquainted, 1 
 have been, however, much comforted and edified 
 with the fortitude my friends have shown under 
 trial. Poor retains the violence of grief 
 
LETTERS. 347 
 
 the longest ; but I do not mean by that to say 
 that she does not make a great deal of exertion. 
 Much of her grief appears to me, at times, to 
 arise from a source from which it ought not to be 
 permitted to arise, namely from the picture which 
 her imagination draws of the sufferings which her 
 son underwent before his death : perhaps this is 
 very natural, but it is very distressing, and should 
 not be indulged. The longer I live, the more I am 
 convinced of the danger of an ill-regulated ima- 
 gination. It is the cause, in many cases, of the 
 severest misery. The imagination and the 
 judgment appear to be the antagonist faculties in 
 the mind, and in proportion as the influence of 
 the one or the other preponderates, the course of 
 life will be cheerful or gloomy, and the conduct 
 prudent, or the contrary. It is this circumstance 
 that renders novels which address the imagination 
 alone, or at least principally, so hurtful to young 
 minds, which are sufficiently inclined of them- 
 selves to give way to the delusions of ima- 
 gination. 
 
 Your inclination and your taste, my dear , 
 
 lead you to prefer more useful studies — and above 
 all, I bless God for it, you have a desire to em- 
 ploy a due portion of your time in the best of all 
 reading, religious reading. As the foundation of 
 all rehgious knowledge must be laid in the study 
 of the word of God, the Scriptures are to be 
 made the chief object of your reading, and the 
 guide and text book, if I may so speak, to every 
 
348 LETTERS. 
 
 thing else. The Bible, you know, presents itself 
 to us under two principal points of view, — 1. As 
 the authentic record of the history of the 
 Almighty's merciful dealings with mankind for 
 their restoration, their redemption from sin and 
 death, and their eternal salvation through the 
 atonement of jTesus Christ. 2. As the code of 
 laws which are to regulate our moral conduct 
 during our present state of probation and disci- 
 pline, with a reference to that eternal life which 
 Christ has purchased for us. In conducting our 
 study of the holy Scriptures with respect to the 
 first of these views, we must have recourse to 
 external aid, such as commentators, historians, 
 &c. With respect to the last, " he may run that 
 readeth." The precepts of the gospel are so 
 plain that the simplest understanding may com- 
 prehend them. I conceive that the Psalms, the 
 greater part of the book of Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, 
 and, above all, the history of our Lord and Sa- 
 viour and his apostles in the New Testament, 
 and especially the discourses of our Lord, should 
 make a regular part of clmly devotional reading, 
 accompanied with prayer to the great Author of 
 revelation for his prevenient and assisting grace, 
 that we may not only read, but understand, and 
 not only understand, but labour to practise what 
 his word commands. In the historical study of 
 the Bible, we should certainly begin with the 
 first book of Moses, and proceed regularly to the 
 end of the historical books ; for to begin the 
 
LETTERS. 349 
 
 study of the history of our rehgion at the begin- 
 ning of the New Testament will unavoidably 
 lead to confusion. This remark, plain as it is, is 
 more neglected than can be imagined, and the 
 consequence of its neglect is, at the best, a very 
 imperfect knowledge of what we read. I will 
 endeavour, as fast as my occupations will permit, 
 to send you a few observations of my own on 
 each book of scripture as you go on, — begin- 
 ning, of course, with Genesis. It would be of 
 great use to you and gratification to me, if you 
 would keep a piece of paper by you when you 
 read, and mark down any difficulties which occur 
 to you, of whatever kind, and now and then 
 send me a page, and this will give me the op- 
 portunity of sending you deliberate answers. I 
 say difficulties of whatever kind, for they may be 
 various, some may occur in words, others in 
 transactions recorded, and these should never be 
 allowed to pass unsatisfied if possible. 
 
 I have written you a hurried letter, but I hope 
 not an unintelligible one. You must occasionally 
 send me a long sheet of your remarks and judg- 
 ments as you read, and, above all, you must very 
 candidly ask any questions or directions you may 
 require : and when you have received my next, 
 you must as candidly tell me whether I express 
 myself clearly to you ; for in the beginning of 
 Genesis some of those topics occur upon which 
 the perverseness, or ignorance, or enthusiasm of 
 men have most erred. I pray God that his 
 
350 LETTERS. 
 
 Spirit and blessing may accompany you. Adieu, 
 and believe me, my beloved child, your affec- 
 tionate father and friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh, December 8, 1814. 
 
 My dearest E , 
 
 Although I do not write to you so fre- 
 quently as I could wish to do, yet my heart is 
 full of anxiety about you. It is my foible, you 
 know, to have a most especial attachment to my 
 daughters ; to her who was the first of these trea- 
 sures, who has never given me a moment's un- 
 easiness but by her delicate health, who has been 
 my dear nurse and comforter in many a sickness, 
 this attachment cannot be inferior to that I bear 
 her sisters, dear girls as they are — I think of you 
 much, I pray for you, and could my prayers and 
 anxieties about you give you health, you would 
 be as stout as a female Hercules. 
 
 Your anxious desire to attend the holy com- 
 munion on Sunday last cannot be otherwise than 
 approved by me, and had I known how you were 
 engaged at the same hour in which I was occupied 
 in the holy duties in my chapel, it would have added 
 to the comfort which I felt at seeing your dear 
 
 mother, E and F at the altar. I have 
 
 no inclination to suppress the feeling with which 
 I administer the sacrament to my own beloved 
 family; and I could not do it if I had 
 
LETTERS. 331 
 
 the inclination. There is a sacred union in at- 
 tending this duty together wliich gratifies me be- 
 yond expression, and I think with pleasure that 
 you were joining us in " spirit, though in body 
 you were absent from us." At the same time, 
 my beloved child, you must not run such a risk 
 again. In a case like yours, when such a jour- 
 ney, especially in winter, may be very injurious, 
 you ought to stay at home, rather than expose 
 your health, of which it is a duty to take care. 
 Read the last Rubrick at the end of the office for 
 the Communion of the sick, for the judgment of 
 the Church on this matter. 
 
 Adieu, my beloved — — , and believe me ever 
 most truly, your affectionate Father and friend, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Oct. 5, 1819. 
 
 My dearest Daughter, 
 
 I am very glad to 
 
 hear that you had such a pleasant visit at Merton. 
 My heart and good will are frequently directed 
 thither. I can never forget the kind attention 
 shown me by my excellent friends, when I was 
 not able to visit them. You will assure them of 
 my sense of their goodness, and of my gratitude 
 for it. My late visit to England abounded, in- 
 deed, in instances of kindness from many quar- 
 ters, which are remembered with much gratifica- 
 tion. 
 
•352 LETTERS. 
 
 You will expect me to say something of myself. 
 I have occasionally suffered from irritation, but 
 not very severely ; and I am now tolerably at 
 ease, and in hopes of gaining ground. I am bet- 
 ter to-day than I generally am on Monday, and 
 am writing very comfortably by a good fire, which 
 is a pleasant companion on this rainy day. Yes- 
 terday was a bad day, but this is a great deal 
 worse ; "a good writing and sermonizing day," 
 say I ; " I will sit down and begin my Tuesday's 
 
 packet, for my dearest Fanny." Dear W is 
 
 just gone up stairs with Leslie's " Short Method 
 with the Deists." She is reading what I call my 
 course of theological study. And now I mention 
 it, I do not know that you have the list of books 
 in the order in which I recommend them to be 
 
 read, and as they are all in C 's library, I will 
 
 set them down — premising that each book ought, 
 in my opinion, to be read at least twice, before 
 proceeding to the next, in order that its contents 
 may be well digested, — the management of the 
 intellectual stomachy and the digestive organs of 
 the understanding, being as important to the 
 mental health and improvement, as Mr Aber- 
 nethy's management of the physical organs. You 
 are to begin then, with 1st, " Paley's Natural 
 Theology ;" then proceed to 2d, " Leslie's Short 
 Method with the Deists ;" this incomparable little 
 tract is found in the books of our Society for pro- 
 moting Christian Knowledge, by itself: it is also in 
 the first volume of " Leslie's Works in folio," in 
 
LETTERS. 3.53 
 
 the first volume of " Tlie Scholar Armed," and 
 in "Bishop Randolph's Theological Manual,'* 
 
 which I presume C has, as every Oxford man 
 
 either has or ought to have it. 3d, " Paley's 
 Evidences," during the perusal of which, at the 
 proper place, is to be read, 4th, *' Paley's Horae 
 Paulina?," the most invaluable work Paley ever 
 produced. The whole course is concluded with 
 Bishop Butler's immortal work, " The Analogy 
 of Natural and Revealed Religion, to the consti- 
 tution and course of Nature." These few books, 
 well studied, will, by the blessing of God, 
 convince and confirm — convince any honest and 
 candid inquirer of the truth of our blessed reli- 
 gion, and confirm those who believe, by showing 
 them how irrefragable are the evidences of the 
 divine origin of Christianity. I think that these 
 books ought to be read before you undertake the 
 systematic reading of the Holy Bible. I know 
 you read a portion of Scripture daily — but I wish 
 you to read the Holy Bible regularly, and when 
 you have finished the course of which I speak, I 
 will, if you desire it, give you my advice about the 
 reading the Jewish Scriptures, and point out some 
 other religious reading, which I think you will find 
 of great benefit — and observe, that in a course of 
 reading you have this advantage, that as one topic 
 succeeds another according to a regular connec- 
 tion, you are infinitely more likely to remember 
 what you read, than when you read the very same 
 books, without attention to the order in which 
 
 VOL. I. z 
 
So4f LETTERS. 
 
 you peruse them. After the course has been 
 once carefully accomplished, you may take up any 
 one of the books as you please, and pursue a par- 
 ticular topic to the exclusion of others, but this 
 desultory reading at first would do more harm 
 than good — I see this illustrated constantly in 
 the matter of historical reading ; through want 
 of method, people forget chronology and other 
 matters which would have been fixed in the 
 memory by the natural force of connexion, had 
 they read according to a plan. I am often 
 reminded of Hamilton's droll tales — Belier, mon 
 ami, ayez la bonte de commencer par le com- 
 mencement. — I have just been interrupted by 
 a conversation with Mr R— , and he has un- 
 intentionally confirmed what I say, for he has 
 read a great deal of English history — O, yes, 
 Hume, and Goldsmith, and all that — but he 
 cannot say that he remembers much about it ! — > 
 
 I am glad you had so pleasant a day at Rich- 
 mond ; to your tutored eye, the splendid pros- 
 pect from the hill would be much improved by 
 the strong contrast of light and gloom — the pros- 
 pect is the most rich I ever saw, and to me who 
 have more pleasure in cultivated beauty, than in 
 the terribly sublime of Glencroe or Glenco, it is 
 the most delightful view I know. Some day I 
 hope you will compare with it the view from 
 Windsor Castle Terrace, which is another great 
 favourite with me 
 
LETTERS. 355 
 
 I am gratified by the satisfaction expressed by 
 my good friends at my performance at Mary-le- 
 bone church. I was a little annoyed at their all 
 kneeling down, however, especially as I had men- 
 tioned the mistake, if you remember, to Miss P — . 
 
 You will, I dare say, let me know whether Mr 
 
 W. C says any thing about my letter to him. 
 
 , . . . How often do 
 
 I find it necessary to remark, that in the better 
 stations of life, cultivation of mind is actually 
 necessary to amiableness ; without cultivation, 
 selfishness, sordid mean selfishness is sure to 
 show itself in some form or other. This is not 
 the case with the lower orders who are to work 
 for their bread, and the reason why is not difli- 
 cult of discovery ; but in nine cases out of ten 
 in better life, a man of uncultivated mind, who is 
 without elegant literature, or elegant pursuits, 
 degenerates into a mere selfish brute. 
 
 Let me hear all about you, for all is interest- 
 ing to my beloved F *s affectionate Father, 
 
 D. Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh, October 13—19, 1819. 
 My beloved Daughter, 
 
 I am quite satis- 
 fied on the subject of my health, and only offer 
 up my own, and beg your prayers for me, that 
 whatever be the will of God, I may be resigned, 
 and cheerful under suffering, if that is still to be 
 
 z 2 
 
356 LETTERS. 
 
 my condition ; or gratefully earnest to employ 
 " the residue of my life in his fear and to his 
 glory," if it please him to restore me to ease and 
 
 activity 
 
 So dearest Thomas is really on his feet and 
 saying Willie Wastle — a rhyme that has very re- 
 markable efficacy in assisting young gentlemen 
 to use their powers. You have probably heard 
 
 that the vessel in which Mr H. W ms came, 
 
 was run aground almost close to Leith pier, by 
 the awkwardness of the pilot, and received such 
 injury as to fill with water : fortunately the 
 weather was perfectly calm, or she would have 
 gone to pieces in sight of port. The passengers 
 were landed with some difficulty and in much 
 confusion in the dark in boats. Had the acci- 
 dent happened in the middle of the night, with 
 any wind, the consequences might have been 
 dreadful. So little, my beloved daughter, can 
 we poor mortals see : who would have antici- 
 pated danger in the harbour ? yet there it was. I 
 am frequently reminded of Cowper's remark : — 
 ** It is a sort of paradox, but it is true, we are 
 never more in danger than when we think our- 
 selves most secure ; nor in reality more secure 
 than when we seem to be most in danger." (See, 
 I beg you, Hayley's Life of Cowper, vol. ii. p. 48, 
 and particularly p. SJ.) The anecdote in the 
 last of these places, related of Captain Cook, you 
 will find told in Hawksworth's voyages, vol. i. 
 p. 285, 4to edition. London, 1773. It is, that 
 
LETTERS. Sd7 
 
 in one of the high southern latitudes, in the 
 midst of a dark and stormy night, a flash of 
 lightning just showed Cook a vessel which he 
 had by this means time to avoid, or they must 
 both have perished! — they never met again! 
 There is much food for meditation here. .... 
 We are rejoicing at the event of Carlisle's trial, 
 as it has been reported to us. I never read any 
 thing so horrible and disgusting as his blasphemy. 
 The Chief Justice had more patience than I 
 should have had. If, as the standers by can be- 
 hold the last convulsions of death on the face of 
 the departed, their ears could also hear the Jirst 
 dreadful shriek of an infidel soul, when it enters 
 on the eternal state, and finds that, which it has 
 been its living object to deride and blaspheme, 
 actually existing, how would they be penetrated 
 with horror! (Monday.) I have just break- 
 fasted with a good appetite, and am preparing 
 for chapel. It is a fine day, but exceedingly cold, 
 and I am sorry to say that I have no hope of a 
 congregation to keep me warm. There is no 
 excuse for unoccupied people, especially young 
 women, if they neglect this duty — and so I have 
 told them, and shall tell them again when occasion 
 serves. — I may perhaps send you an extract from 
 my lecture of to-day, as it contains some observa- 
 tions on St Luke's Gospel which will probably 
 please you, and I hope convince you. — I have 
 long thought that the general notion, that St 
 Luke received his information from others was 
 
358 LETTERS. 
 
 erroneous — I am persuaded that it is so, by very 
 critical examination of his preface, as well as the 
 Gospel itself, and I have endeavoured in this 
 
 lecture to explain my reasons 
 
 Adieu, ever your affectionate Father, 
 
 D. Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh, Oct. 23, 1819. 
 
 My beloved F , 
 
 That my letters may not become mere 
 gossip I shall here amuse myself with writing a 
 few words on the subject of St Luke's Gospel. 
 I know that it will appear extraordinary to 
 some, that I should here assert, that from the 
 words of St Luke's preface to his gospel, 1 should 
 be inclined to draw a conclusion very different 
 from that which is generally received, and to 
 judge that the Evangelist neither derived from 
 others his iriformation as to the events of our 
 Savioufs ministry, nor in that preface had any 
 intention of declaring that he did. On the con- 
 trary, it has long been my opinion, that in the 
 words of that preface he asserts his own personal 
 acquaintance with the facts which he relates. In 
 support of this opinion, I shall bring forward two 
 proofs ; the first a negative proof, and the second 
 a positive proof. The words to which I allude 
 in the consideration of the first proof, are found 
 in the second verse of the preface. From this 
 verse it is argued, that St Luke attributes his 
 
LETTERS. 359 
 
 own knowledge, and the authority of the liistoiy 
 which he is about to write, to the communica- 
 tions of eye-witnesses, from whom he is considered 
 as here declaring that he had received his infor- 
 mation — this argument is looked upon as conclu- 
 sive, and the opinion that St Luke was not himself 
 personally acquainted with the events which he 
 relates is accordingly, very universal, and inve- 
 terate — nevertheless I cannot forbear observing, 
 that this sense of the words would scarcely occur 
 to any one who had not been taught to look for 
 it ; especially if the whole passage be read in its 
 connexion of parts, one with the other. Now, it 
 is to be remembered that when St Luke deter- 
 mined to write his gospel, many spurious and 
 absurd histories of our Lord's ministry and life 
 were in circulation. — To the authors of these 
 no evil intention is attributed •, but their 
 narratives were full of fantastic errors. In 
 order to put an end to their deceptions, the 
 Evangelist prepared himself for his task ; and in 
 this preface he explains to his friend Theophilus, 
 that he was moved to it by the attempts of those 
 who had " taken in hand" to give an account of 
 our blessed Lord's ministry, assuming that they 
 related nothing but what was most " surely be- 
 lieved" as rested on the testimony of "eye 
 witnesses." — These incorrect narrators asserted 
 that they " set forth in order the declaration" of 
 nothing but what had such authority to recom- 
 mend it. This was their plea J and so St Luke 
 
360 LETTERS. 
 
 tells us ; but he evidently had no respect for that 
 plea ; for in the very next verse he proceeds to 
 contrast his own qualifications as a sacred histor- 
 ian with those of the writers whose " attempts" 
 his correcter narrative was to supersede. Of the 
 sources of St Luke's knowledge nothing is to be 
 learned from these two first verses. They form 
 my negative proof- — the Evangelist says nothing 
 of himself here. In corroboration of these re- 
 marks I may observe, that the English phrase 
 " taken in hand '* is a very correct version of the 
 Greek word employed by St Luke : at the same 
 time it is to be mentioned, that this word in the 
 original is used as frequently to signify attempts 
 which do not succeed in their object, as those 
 which do succeed j and it so happens, that the 
 Evangelist, who is the only writer of the New 
 Testament who uses the word, uses it in three 
 places only, and in two of these (Acts ix. 29 ; 
 Acts xix. 13.) he evidently designs to describe 
 attempts which failed of success. If his use of 
 this word were the same, then, in the passage 
 before us, in the 1st. verse of his preface to his 
 gospel, it follows, that, as I have already stated, 
 his purpose was to contrast the inefficiency of 
 these histories of our Lord, with the authority 
 and correctness of his own narrative. In the 
 3d verse, the Evangelist proceeds to describe his 
 own pretensions — " It seemed good unto me also," 
 &c. As my explanation of these words depends on 
 a critical examination of the original text, which 
 
LETTERS. 361 
 
 can be understood by those only who are well 
 acquainted with the Greek language, I must 
 request your confidence in me, that I will state 
 to you nothing but that which every good scholar 
 in that language will allow, while I set before you 
 the result and not the detail of that examination. 
 — Now you are to learn that the phrase " having 
 had understanding of" is expressed in the original 
 by a single word, which word properly signifies 
 to " attend, to accompany," in the sense in which 
 a servant is said to " attend or accompany " his 
 master, walking along with him, of course never 
 losing sight of him, but watching him, and wait- 
 ing on his motions. St Luke, in describing his 
 acquaintance with the transactions of the gospel 
 history, makes use of this term. He says that he 
 had accompanied the events which he is about to 
 relate, and had become acquainted with them 
 
 intimately from the very first If these words do 
 
 not signify that certainty which arises from per- 
 sonal knowledge and actual inspection, I scruple 
 not to say, that no words which the holy writer 
 could employ would have conveyed that sense. — 
 Yet it is said, " in his introduction to his gospel, 
 Luke appears to intimate that he was not himself 
 an eye-witness of the things which he is about to 
 relate," and the reverend Prelate whose words I 
 quote (Bp. of Lincoln) expresses but the opinion 
 which has generally prevailed. How groundlessly 
 it has prevailed, will appear, I think, beyond a 
 doubt, when I set before you the whole passage 
 
362 LETTERS. 
 
 ill connexion, rendered, as it may with great 
 propriety be rendered, "forasmuch as many 
 have taken in hand, with but little success, to 
 deliver a narration of those things which are most 
 surely believed among us, assuming to be a narra- 
 tion according to the report of those who were 
 eye-witnesses and ministers of the word ; I who 
 accompanied, and was perfectly acquainted with 
 all those things from the very first, have," &c. 
 
 St Luke was thus eminently qualified for the 
 important duty of an Evangelist ; and, according- 
 ly, under the inspiration and guidance of the Holy 
 Spirit, he did compose the gospel which occupies 
 the third place in the order of the histories of 
 our Lord, supplying in several places discourses 
 and parables of our Lord and incidents of his 
 ministry which are not found in the two former 
 gospels. From what has been said you will per- 
 ceive the grounds of my acquiescence in the 
 opinion that St Luke was one of the seventy. 
 That he was the companion of Cleopas in his 
 journey to Emmaus, appears likewise probable ; 
 and perhaps there are some parts of the history 
 of that transaction which bear the marks of a 
 writer who was personally present. I cannot 
 conclude without observing that in many other 
 parts of St Luke's gospel there appears internal 
 evidence of his presence at the transactions which 
 he relates. This is to me very striking in the 
 history of the seventy disciples (ch. x.), in the 
 parable of the prodigal son, and the discourse 
 
LETTERS. 363 
 
 which precedes it, and in many other passages, es- 
 pecially in the affecting narrative of our Saviour's 
 tenderness towards the woman who was a sinner 
 and a penitent (ch. vii.) ; there is a delicate and 
 graphical minuteness in this little history which 
 betokens, I think, that the writer beheld with 
 his own eyes the scene which he describes, and 
 felt in his own breast the impressions which his 
 simple and pathetic language conveys to all who 
 read it now. 
 
 Edinburgh, November 9, 1819. 
 My beloved F , 
 
 I address this to you at your new resi- 
 dence, and shall be very happy to hear that you 
 find it comfortable, I hope it is warm. Your 
 English houses are not famous for being so, — in- 
 deed I have suffered more from cold in London 
 than I ever did in Edinburgh. 
 
 I find from your letter to W that C 
 
 visits the sick poor much. While he takes care 
 not to expose himself heedlessly to infection, I 
 shall be always glad to know that he is so em- 
 ployed, for it is a duty that he will perform 
 peculiarly well. His gentleness and his tender 
 manner must endear him to his parishioners — 
 and the kindness bestowed on the poor when they 
 are sick, has a strong effect in general on their 
 minds, and disposes them to listen to their Pas- 
 tor's advice ; and these are times in which no- 
 
364 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 thing must be omitted that may conciliate the 
 lower orders, and guide them to good and pre- 
 serve them from evil. The Hunts, and Watsons, 
 and Thistlewoods of the day, will not attend the 
 sick poor and hear their little story, and relieve 
 their wants, and such a good and kind man as our 
 
 dear C may therefore have a great influence, 
 
 which he will use to good purpose. He is attend- 
 ed by my prayers for him and my blessing on his 
 useful and important duties. I see that the society 
 for promoting christian knowledge has published 
 Watson's answer to Paine, in a cheap form ; a 
 member may have it for 6d. a copy. This is well : 
 and it is well to have such a book to distribute 
 where you think there is any danger of Paine's 
 poison — but I think great care should be taken 
 in the distribution. Unless you actually find 
 that there has been mischief done, or have very 
 good reason to think that it will be attempted, I 
 would not give Watson's book. It is better to 
 keep from the uneducated the knowledge of ob- 
 jections, although you can furnish them with 
 answers to those objections. I am afraid that 
 the objection is always more plain and intelligible 
 than the answer. For this reason I have made 
 it a rule in my sermons never to introduce an 
 objection, which cannot be disposed of in as few 
 words, or nearly as few, as it is stated. The 
 errors which arise from imperfect hearing and 
 imperfect attention are continual. You remem- 
 ber my story of Dr Brunton, which I had from 
 
LETTERS. 365 
 
 his friend Mr D. He was preaching to young- 
 people, and advising them to meditate much on 
 the being and attributes of God, — on the fall of 
 man, &c. &c. He received the next day, at his 
 desire, many notes which his youthful auditors 
 took of the discourse, and not a few of them had 
 stated ^^many doubt much" of the being and 
 attributes of God, &c. &c. This, which I have 
 on such good authority, has determined me, as it 
 determined Dr Brunton, to be very cautious in 
 what I say, where it is possible I may be misun- 
 derstood. It was but in last passion week that I 
 said in my last lecture, that the soul remained in 
 a state of " sensibility" after death until the re- 
 surrection. A person who heard me, and thought 
 she heard me very correctly, went to Mrs M. 
 and said, " the Bishop told us to-day that the 
 soul remains in a state of ' insensibility^ after 
 death" — " I think," said she, " he said so ; but, 
 as this was not his doctrine last year, I fancy 
 that I have made a mistake, and wish you would 
 ask him." Mrs M. did ask me, and I set the 
 mistake right ; but, had not the good lady be- 
 thought herself of this direct appeal to myself, 
 she might have gone away with the notion that I 
 was a supporter of the doctrine which I had taken 
 pains in that very lecture to confute. 
 
 I am going this day to perform the last duties 
 to my excellent friend Mrs D., who has quietly 
 changed a mortal for an immortal state, with- 
 out suffering, at the venerable age of eighty- 
 
3()6 LETTERS. 
 
 four. Such a gentle departure is enviable. You 
 remember Dr Johnson's lines on his friend 
 Levett, 
 
 " Then with no throbs of fiery pain, 
 " No cold gradations of decay," &c. 
 
 Mrs D. fell asleep a few days since, and her 
 sleep terminated on Friday last ! I trust that 
 she fell asleep in the Lord ! She could not be 
 sensible at the close to the duty and affection 
 shown her, but her daughters were with her, and 
 the G. has been here for some days. Immedi- 
 ately after I leave her house, I go to Mrs M., 
 to administer the holy communion to her, at an 
 age, I believe, more advanced than Mrs D.'s. 
 As we see our friends and fellow creatures pro- 
 ceeding towards the goal of life, and gradually 
 migrating one after another, we must be some- 
 what hard and blind, if we turn not our thoughts 
 to that same termination of our own pilgrimage. 
 I read the other night to my family a sermon of 
 Venn's, on the words of the Psalmist, *' Where- 
 fore hast thou made all men for nought ?" I 
 was much pleased ; and they who listened to me 
 were not less so. I recommend the sermon to 
 your perusal, should Venn's volume come in 
 
 your way. But has not gotten them, and 
 
 I suppose he must not ask for any thing so 
 
 evangelical. Believe me, with best regards to 
 
 dearest , your affectionate Father, 
 
 Daniel Sandford. 
 
LETTERS. 3G7 
 
 Edinburgh^ November 19 — 23, 1819. 
 My beloved Daughter, 
 
 I trust that you have not been distressed 
 at Fulham with such very bad weather as we have 
 had here till yesterday. None of us like it but 
 0U7' dear philosopher, who says she enjoys a bad 
 day. Her favourite pursuits can indeed be carried 
 on as well in rain, as in any other weather. She 
 draws her chair into the fire, with her little table 
 at her right hand, and her book before her ; and 
 thus she rejoices to sit the whole morning. I 
 made her a present yesterday of a very neat 
 little common-place book, in which I had made 
 an index after Locke's method ; and she was 
 going to work upon it immediately. After all, 
 though she is too fond of staying at home, and 
 in her room, she is a dear valuable creature ; and 
 when I now and then get her into my room by 
 ourselves, for a sober conversation, I am quite 
 delighted. I do not tell her, though, how I ad- 
 mire her, for fear of her being injured by it — ^yet 
 I have a notion that she finds it out. I believe that 
 your sect are not always the last to discover such 
 things. You and I, my love, think so exactly 
 alike upon this subject, that, while 1 do not know 
 how I shall ever be able to part with her, even 
 to you, so neither do I know how you will be 
 able to let her come back again. She came into 
 the drawing-room just now, and I had a glimpse 
 
368 LETTERS. 
 
 of the lady muffled up against the cold of a fine 
 frosty day, and going to her music lesson at Ro- 
 bertson's. She says that she learns a great deal 
 — it is certain that she is, at a certain regular 
 time every day, very diligent in her work in writ- 
 ing chords, &c. at home, and I suppose that she is 
 equally diligent at school. I know you will not 
 blame me for writing half a page on this subject. 
 Would we were nearer to each other, that we 
 might both enjoy our treasure ! A treasure in- 
 deed she is ! I would not have it imagined that 
 
 I undervalue our dear S , who is a very fine 
 
 sensible creature — but she is of a very different 
 turn from W . They never cross one ano- 
 ther's path — of course they will always be the 
 
 best and kindest friends. S amuses and 
 
 pleases me very much : she has a great deal of 
 lively humour, and like her dear sister, is always 
 cheerful : but it is a cheerfulness of another 
 character — and W 's sober pursuit of im- 
 provement, and her habits of reading, bring her 
 more frequently into contact with me. You 
 have no notion what sensible evenings we pass. 
 After tea and generally a little music, I bring 
 my book. I have done with the Paradise Lost, 
 and this evening finish the Lay of the Last 
 
 Minstrel, which R desired to have read : for 
 
 the four youths are part of my audience. When 
 the reading is over, we retire into my study for 
 more serious occupation ; I read and expound 
 my chapter, and then we separate ; with the sa- 
 
LETTERS. 369 
 
 tisfaction of having been, at least, elegantly and 
 innocently employed. 
 
 R . is a very old acquaintance of mine. 
 
 He ought not to have preached "a very indifferent 
 sermon," for no man can compose a better. I 
 think his text a very unfortunate one : he could 
 have found the same meaning in other words, 
 and to select such a text is bad taste. There are 
 persons in whom it might provoke a smile, and 
 that is a bad introduction to a sermon. 
 
 Edinburgh, December 21, 1819. 
 
 My beloved Daughter, 
 
 As I cannot have the gratification of 
 seeing you among my flock in my chapel, I have 
 thought that I cannot employ a few letters more 
 usefully than in giving you my ideas on the sub- 
 ject which at present occupies a great deal of my 
 attention, namely, the internal evidence of the 
 Christian Scriptures. It is a subject of great 
 importance, and the evidence is of great value 
 also, as the discernment of the higher parts of it 
 appears by the word of God to be reserved for 
 those who labour to lead pious and holy hves, 
 and as it appears from the same authority to be 
 the fruit of the influence of the Spirit. For the 
 first of these assertions I appeal to the words of 
 our blessed Saviour, " If any man will (is willing 
 to) do his will, he shall know of the doctrine 
 whether it be of God." (St John vii. I7.) For 
 
 VOL. I. 2 a 
 
370 LETTERS. 
 
 the latter to the words of the Psahiiist, " open 
 mine eyes that I may discern the wondrous things 
 of thy law." Psal. cxix. 18. 
 
 The most popular writer on this subject is 
 Soame Jenyns. His work is in every book shop, 
 and in almost every library ; and as far as it goes 
 it is a good book ; but it takes only a partial view 
 of the subject. Paley in his Evidences vol. ii. 
 has some good remarks on the subject, but he is 
 also very brief in the consideration of it — there 
 is a very pretty piece which treats of a branch of 
 it, in the second volume of the Scholar Armed, 
 p. 353 ; an extract from Bp Taylor's Ductor 
 Dubitantium, very short also — and finally Mr 
 Miller, in his admirable, but obscure, Bampton 
 Lectures for 1818, has treated the internal 
 evidence in a very powerful and original manner. 
 His style is involved, and occasionally almost 
 unintelligible ; but the matter repays the trouble 
 of studying to make out his meaning — these are 
 the principal writers with whom I am acquainted 
 — there are many others : I believe tliat Maltby, 
 in his work on the Evidences, has a good deal 
 about it ; but Maltby's book I have never read. 
 I have seen it only casually. You will, if you read 
 the works I have mentioned, and they are all worth 
 reading carefully, observe that I have not bor- 
 rowed much. Indeed I have purposely, for a 
 reason which will appear immediately, abstained 
 from reading any thing but the New Testament, 
 when I began to write. 
 
LETTERS. 371 
 
 I State the question thus — Besides the external 
 evidence, such as miracles, the accomplishment 
 of prophecy, the testimony of history to the truth 
 of the facts of Christianity, may we not expect to 
 find in the writings themselves which compose 
 the Christian Scriptures, internal evidence of 
 these truths ? We know that the four gospels, for 
 instance, are f^enuiney i. e. written by the authors 
 whose names they bear ; we are persuaded from 
 the characters, the lives, the doctrines, and the 
 deaths especially of these authors, that the four 
 gospels are authentic, i. e. relate matters of fact, 
 as they really happened. — But supposing a person 
 so situated as not to be able to acquire the know- 
 ledge of this external evidence, further than the 
 books themselves furnish in the accomplishment 
 of prophecy, may he not expect to find those 
 marks of truth in the writings which he would look 
 for in an uninspired composition ? and farther, 
 may not he who is already convinced of the 
 inspiration and truth, expect in a diligent examin- 
 ation to find in the style and manner of the 
 writers the marks of candour and truth—and in 
 the character of our Lord, and in the precepts 
 and doctrines of the Scriptures, evidence that the 
 revelation is from God ? To these questions I 
 answer in the affirmitive, and proceed to consider 
 the subject under the topics alluded to. Laying 
 aside every book but the New Testament, I pro- 
 ceed in the first place, to inquire what marks of 
 
 A 2 
 
372 LETTERS. 
 
 truth are to be discerned in the style and manner 
 of the sacred penmen. 
 
 1. Now every one knows, that in a narrative 
 of facts, independently of the arguments resulting 
 from the presence or absence of external testi- 
 mony to the truth of the facts related, our 
 confidence in the narrative is unavoidably, and as 
 it were instinctively attracted or repelled by the 
 style and manner of the writer. — We say of an 
 author at once, from a feeling which we do not 
 always stop to analyse and examine, that he 
 writes like one who is telling the truth, or the 
 contrary. In a long and various history of actions 
 and discourses, when we find the writer deliver 
 himself in a plain and simple manner, without 
 curious and artificial arrangement; recounting 
 what he tells, almost heedless of the connection 
 of his story ; bringing forward with the same 
 readiness that which might lessen his own char- 
 acter, as that which may do him honour ; and 
 evidently more anxious to communicate informa- 
 tion, than studious of the reception which his 
 narrative may experience ; when we discover no 
 attempts to anticipate, and guard against objec- 
 tions ; no laboured expressions of astonishment 
 when he relates any thing extraordinary ; no ap- 
 peals, however naturally they might have been 
 introduced, to awaken and engage our sensibili- 
 ties ; we are ready to pronounce such a writer 
 candid and sincere, and to give him credit, al- 
 though he tell us of many things which surpass 
 
LETTERS. 373 
 
 our own knowledge and experience. If such a 
 writer tell us of the most singular events, the sa- 
 tisfaction we derive from onv feeling of his integ- 
 rity convinces us that he tells what he knows^ 
 and as he knows it ; and knowledge and integrity 
 in the testifier are the proper grounds of cre- 
 dibility.* 
 
 2. The Holy Spirit, who accompanied the 
 Evangelists in their work of recording the events 
 of the ministry of Jesus, according to the promise 
 of their Lord, *' guided them into all truth," and 
 *' brought all things to their remembrance what- 
 soever he had said unto them ;" but they were 
 still left at liberty to write after their own disposi- 
 tions, and in their ordinary style — of some, the 
 language is full of the peculiarities of expression 
 which characterize the Hebrew and Syriac 
 idioms,t the latter of which was their vernacular 
 tongue. — Now in the narrative of the gospels, 
 we do, I think, meet with all the characteristics 
 which I have just enumerated as the marks of 
 truth. There is the utmost artlessness and sim- 
 plicity. There is nothing like artificial and 
 studied arrangement. While there is a general 
 attention to the order of events, there is, at the 
 same time, occasionally an obscurity arising from 
 
 * See Bp Pearson on the Apostles' Creed, article 1. " Ibelieve.^^ 
 -f- Had the historian of our Lord's Crucifixion invented the story, 
 he would most probably have quoted the 22d Ps. " Eli," &c. in 
 Hebrew — but our Lord spoke Syriac or Syro-Chaldaic, and the 
 quotation is in that language, not Hebrew. 
 
374 LETTERS. 
 
 the neglect of that exact order, which obscurity 
 is indeed immediately corrected by a careful 
 comparison with the other gospels ; but which is 
 never found in an invented story. It is in such 
 circumstances that truth asserts her own pri- 
 vileges. Fiction, always distrustful, always sus- 
 picious of detection, durst not follow her. It is 
 farther to be remarked, that the Evangelists, with 
 the utmost candour and openness, relate those 
 instances which human policy might have coun- 
 selled them to conceal, of their own dulness of 
 understanding on many occasions ; of their own 
 faults, especially Peter's denial of the Lord, the 
 treachery of Judas, and the general and pusillani- 
 mous defection of the rest. Nothing can be more 
 striking than the confession of their ignorance of 
 the meaning of our Saviour's prediction of his 
 resurrection, while the Jews appear to have 
 understood him when he spake of that wonderful 
 event even in figurative terms. It has also been 
 often remarked, that the Evangelists speak of the 
 astonishing miracles of Christ with a degree of 
 coldness. There is no attempt to produce an 
 impression : nothing like even the pardonable 
 amplification which might have been looked for 
 from the eye-witnesses of such events — far less 
 do we meet with any rhetorical ornaments ; any 
 laboured pathetic descriptions. There is pathos; 
 and that the most deep and affecting ; but it is in 
 the matter, not the manner, of the relation, for 
 pure and unvarnished is the simplicity of the few 
 
LETTERS. 375 
 
 words in which it is comprised — many passages 
 of the history of Jesus cannot be read without 
 the tenderest, or the most agitating emotion ; but 
 such passages derive not their force from any art 
 and contrivance of the Writer. I must not ven- 
 ture to introduce any particular illustrations of 
 this topic. I must leave them to be noticed, as 
 they cannot fail to be, by the attentive reader. 
 Such a reader will not pass over many minute 
 touches of reality and nature, many undesigned 
 coincidences with each other in the Holy Evan- 
 gelists, which, together with the instances which 
 have been already pointed out, conspire to make 
 up the first branch of internal evidence, arising 
 from the style and manner of those sacred writers. 
 
 Believe me, my beloved your affectionate 
 
 Father, 
 
 D. Sandford. 
 
 Edinburgh, Dec. 24>th, 1819. 
 My beloved Daughter, 
 
 In a narrative of real transactions writ- 
 ten with the plainness and simplicity of the 
 Evangelical writers, we may expect to find mi- 
 nute circumstances, touches of natural sentiment, 
 remarks arising from things actually before the 
 eyes of the relater, or delivered from eye-witnes- 
 ses, which would not occur to the composer of in- 
 vented story, and which in all uninspired narratives 
 are considered as decisive marks of truth. You 
 
376 LETTERS. 
 
 remember (to make my illustration as familiar as 
 
 possible) the story of being brought to my 
 
 chapel by his nurse when he was a little child. 
 The remark which he made on seemg me was suf- 
 ficient to convince any one that the child had 
 been at the chapel, and had actually seen what 
 he related.* Now, I say these minute, unde- 
 signed, marks of truth continually occur in the 
 gospel history. You must consent to accompany 
 me in a pretty minute examination of the four 
 gospels. This argument must arise from the in- 
 duction of many particulars. 
 
 1. Minute circumstances. — St Matthew c. viii. 
 15. " She arose and ininistered unto them** This 
 incident is very important as a proof of the mira- 
 culous recovery of Peter*s wife's mother. They 
 who recover from a fever in the ordinary course 
 regain their strength by slow degrees. Here the 
 recovery of strength was immediate. But I 
 bring forward this passage now as containing an 
 incident very unlikely to find a place in an in- 
 vented story, and on the contrary most natural 
 to be remarked by an eye-witness of a real event. 
 It was calculated to make a deep impression. 
 
 C. ix. 20. " Touched the hem of his garments 
 
 * He said, " I saw papa in his shirt." Had he said, " in a sur- 
 plice," or in a " white gown," it might have been supposed that he 
 had been taught what to say. But the words which he used were 
 evidently his own, and he had actually seen what he described ac- 
 cording to the impression made upon him. This will show you the 
 sort of passages which belong to this illustration. 
 
LETTERS. 377 
 
 — The whole of this interesting miracle bears 
 indubitable marks of truth — but the words I 
 mark, and the whole of the next (21) verse are 
 the points to which I would here draw the at- 
 tention. 
 
 C. xi. 2. *' In the prison." St Matthew gives no 
 account of John's imprisonment before he thus 
 speaks of the prison — the account of Herod's 
 treatment of John Baptist is given in the xiv. 
 chapter. Here is ^rw^A. C. xiv. 19. "sit down 
 on the grass." Dr Maltby, if I remember right- 
 ly, observes on St John, c. vi. 10. "now there 
 was much grass in the place," — " this is the 
 remark of an eye-witness." The same may be 
 said of this passage in St Matthew. C. xvii. 4. 
 Peter's proposal to make three tabernacles, &c., 
 could never have been invented. But I have 
 more to say of this when we come to the corres- 
 pondent passage of St Mark's gospel. 
 
 St Mark c. iv. 38. *' On a pillow." — We know 
 that St Mark was assisted in his gospel by St 
 Peter. He was in the ship with Jesus, and is not 
 this little passage the description of an eye-wit- 
 ness ? 
 
 C. V. 31. *' Thou seest the multitude thronging 
 thee, and sayest thou, Who touched thee ? 
 
 32. " And he looked round about to see her 
 that had done this thing." I am sure that I need 
 not make any remark here. 
 
 C. V. 41. " Talitha-cumi." — St Matthew and 
 St Luke both give the history of this miracle — 
 
378 LETTERS. 
 
 but neither of them were present. Peter was 
 present, and can any thing be more natural than 
 his repeating to Mark the very words which the 
 Lord used ? 
 
 42. " For she was of the age of twelve years.'" 
 — This is the relation of Peter, and evidently that 
 of an eye witness. 
 
 vi. 39. ** On the green grass" (see St Matt, 
 xiv. 19.) 
 
 vi. 40. The expressions here '* in ranks^ hy 
 hundreds and by fifties " were never invented — 
 they are the language of an eye witness. 
 
 ix. 3. *^ So as no fuller on earth can white 
 them." — This is the description which a man of 
 low rank would give, and is exactly what you 
 may expect from a fisherman of Galilee. 
 
 X. 50. *' And he casting away his garment 
 rose and came to Jesus." — Would any one have 
 thought of mentioning this circumstance who had 
 not seen it ? 
 
 xi. 4. *' /tz a place where two ways met." — 
 This little circumstance is not noticed by St 
 Matt, and St Luke ; our Lord had on many oc- 
 casions distinguished Peter, and he was probably 
 one of the two disciples. I should be much in- 
 clined to say that he certainly was, from the 
 remark here quoted. Peter and John were the 
 two employed at another time to prepare for the 
 passover, (St Mark xii. 8.) and we may presume 
 Peter was also one on this occasion. 
 
 xii. 42. *• She threw in two mites ^ which make 
 
LETTERS. 379 
 
 a farthing.** — I must really content myself with 
 merely giving the passages, for I hope that it 
 is unnecessary for me to say any thing of them, 
 such as this especially, to show them to be unde- 
 signed marks of veracity. 
 
 C. xiv. 40. (For their eyes were heavy), to 
 say nothing of the candour shown in the relation 
 of this incident, not honourable to the sleepy 
 disciples, I would ask, is not this little parenthesis 
 truth itself.* Fiction would never have put it 
 there. See also v. 51, 52. 
 
 67. The same who kept the door, and had 
 admitted Peter with John (St Mark c. xviii. 16, 
 
 17.) 
 
 69. " A maid," Gr. ^ 'TrotibiaKYj, the maid, 
 namely she who had spoken before, v. 67. and 
 most probably from what she said. 
 
 XV. 29. " Wagging their heads" 
 
 xvi. 3. '■^And they said among themselves, Wlio 
 shall roll us away the stone,** Sfc. — I lay my hand 
 on this — nothing can be more natural, more what 
 truth is — ^yet could it have been feigned? no, 
 such a conversation would never have entered 
 the mind of a forger. I could enlarge on this, 
 but I will not, for I have yet tw^o gospels to go 
 through, before I come to examine them in the 
 
 * It is Peter who communicated tlsis incident to Mark, and can 
 there be any thing- more natural than his saying, when relating- this 
 scene, " Indeed our eyes were so heavy we could scarcely keep them 
 open." 
 
380 LETTERS. 
 
 same detail, to show the touches of natural 
 sentiment and some undesigned coincidences in 
 the narrative of our Lord*s history ^ and also 
 make some observations on the manner in which 
 our blessed Saviom-*s miracles are related. In 
 the meantime I shall stop here. You must look 
 at the gospels yourself; and if, as is more than 
 probable, I have omitted any thing under this 
 head of internal evidence, you must let me 
 know. 
 
 Edinburgh, January 4^A, 1820. 
 My beloved , 
 
 The first passage to our present purpose 
 which occurs in the gospel of St Luke is in the 
 fourth chapter, where the Evangelist gives a very 
 remarkable account of our blessed Lord's visit to 
 Nazareth and its synagogue. I shall transcribe 
 the observations of Mr Dunster on this passage. 
 " The account of our Lord's actually commenc- 
 ing his ministry in the city of Nazareth, " where 
 he had been brought up" is related by none of the 
 other Evangelists, being only slightly referred to 
 by St Matthew. But the particular circumstances 
 of our Lord standing up to read ; of the book being 
 delivered to him ; of his opening it ; of his closing 
 it and giving it again to the minister ; of his sitting 
 down ; of the eyes of all being fastened upon him ; 
 these are all related by St Luke in a certain manner, 
 which conveys to us strongly that every thing 
 
LETTERS. 381 
 
 which is here related to have passed, actually did 
 pass in the presence of the writer ; and that all 
 these successive actions were, by various inci- 
 dental circumstances, of look^ manner^ and effect^ 
 impressed on his mind." These valuable re- 
 marks I find quoted in Bishop Gleig's edition of 
 Stackhouse's History of the Bible (vol. iii. p. 93, 
 note,) and I transcribe them with much satisfac- 
 tion, according, as they do, with my own senti- 
 ments, and expressing them better than I could 
 do. 
 
 V. 2. " The fishennen were gone out of thenii 
 and tvei'e mending their nets.*' — Here is a cir- 
 cumstance which confirms to my mind the opin- 
 ion which, on another occasion, I stated at large, 
 that St Luke personally/ attended our Lord. 
 
 They were mending their nets; this is just 
 what a painter would represent in a picture of 
 the sea-side, because he represents objects as 
 they are seen ; but when more important matter 
 pressed on the mind of a writer, so minute a cir- 
 cumstance would scarcely have been noticed but 
 by an eye-witness. It is placing the scene before 
 the eye. 
 
 V. 19. " House top through the tiling" — You 
 know that in the houses in Palestine, there is 
 from the roof, a stair on the outside leading to 
 the street — the bearers of the sick man not find- 
 ing entrance by the ordinary passage, went up 
 this outer staircase, and let the patient down 
 through the tiles^ that is, by the door or opening 
 
382 LETTERS. 
 
 in the roof which communicated with the house 
 Now all this is realy and fact, and not like any 
 thins: invented. You must observe that as the 
 outer stair was used only by the family, the de- 
 parture from ordinary custom made it the more 
 remarkable. 
 
 vi. 15. Zelotes. In St Matthew's gospel, c. x. 
 Simon is called " the Cananite ;'* so it should be 
 spelt not " Canaanite "—the expression in St 
 Matthew is I think intended, (as many learned 
 men remark) to signify the zeal and vivacity of 
 Simon's character, being derived from a Hebrew 
 word of that signification — St Luke writing for 
 Gentile converts, uses a correspondent Greek 
 term *' Zelotes." This is to me very striking ; it 
 is also a strong proof that the meaning of the 
 term " Cananite " is what I tell you—for otherwise 
 I think he would not have used any word but 
 that which St Matthew employed — but as that, 
 though it might have intimated to a foreigner 
 the country of Simon, either Cana or Canaan, 
 would not have been understood in its real 
 sense ; St Luke very naturally translates it into 
 Greek. 
 
 vii. 4, 5. He was worthy, &c. &c. This is 
 like an actual message, reported by one who 
 heard it delivered, vii. 15. *' And he that was dead 
 sat up and began to speak" — surely this is the 
 account of a real transaction — Christ's touching 
 the bier, and they that bare him .stood still, is the 
 same. I have already remarked to you that I 
 
LETTERS. 383 
 
 consider the affecting narrative from the 36th 
 verse to the end of this chapter, as bearing proofs 
 of being written by one who was present, and the 
 more I read it the more I am convinced of it : 
 see particularly verses 40 and 44. 
 
 viii. 35. There is a minuteness in the account 
 of the demoniac, which is the undesigning cor- 
 rectness of truth — I am struck with the description 
 in this 35th verse, the man who *' wore no clothes" 
 was now " clothed, and in his right mind *' — The 
 next words are truth itself, "and they were 
 afraid." In the same chapter, 46 v. there is an 
 undesigned coincidence with St Mark's gospel 
 worth attending to — in St Mark's account he 
 says " Jesus perceived that virtue was gone out 
 of him " — the manner in which St Luke relates 
 the same would incline me to think that he him- 
 self was one of " the multitude that thronged and 
 pressed Jesus." 
 
 xiv. 14. (I^or there were about jive thousand 
 men) make them sit down by fifties in a company. 
 These things are not, I think, likely to find theii* 
 way into an invented tale. 
 
 xi. 20. The opinion pretty generally holden, 
 that St Luke was one of the seventy, is much 
 confirmed by this passage—there is no account of 
 the seventy but in this gospel. 
 
 X. 39. " Sat at Jesus' feet."— Thh is not like 
 the methodists of this day who " sit under Mr 
 such-a-one," but is the description of Mary's at- 
 titude of humble attention, it is a picture — the 
 
384 LETTERS. 
 
 next verse is all nature and truth, xi. 38. *' Tlie 
 Pharisee marvelled that he had not washed before 
 dinner" consider this in all its bearings, and then 
 say whether it can be supposed to have originated 
 in the imagination of a forger. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 GLASGOW: 
 
 HUTCHISON AND BROOKMAN, PHINTFRs 
 
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