LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Theological Seminary, 
 
 PRINCETON, N. J. 
 
 BX 8495 .D73 D73 1835 
 Drew, Jacob Halls. 
 The life, character, and 
 literary labours of Samuel; 
 
 A DONATION 
 
 iBeceiued 
 
I 
 
) 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE, CHARACTER, 
 
 LITERARY LABOURS 
 
 OF 
 
 SAMUEL DREW, A.M. 
 
 BY HIS ELD^T SON. 
 
 HB THOUGHT AS A SAGE, WHILE HE FELT AS A MAN.' 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, 
 
 NO. 8 2 CLIFF-STREET, 
 
 1 8 3 5. 
 

 Digitized by 
 
 tine Internet Arcliive 
 
 
 
 in 2014 
 
 
 
 Iittps://arcliive.org/details/iifecharacterlit00drew_1 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Conscious of the lesson contained in his personal 
 history, it was Mr. Drew's intention to become his own 
 biographer. Not many months before his decease, he 
 said to a relative, " Should God spare me to return in 
 health to Cornwall,! intend to employ my leisure hours 
 in writino- some account of my life, and leave it for 
 others to publish when I am gone." 
 
 Tliose who have read the life of the late Dr. Adam 
 Clarke will recollect that he assigns as a moving cause 
 of his valuable auto-biographical sketch, the importunity 
 of a friend. That friend was Samuel Drew ; and the 
 fact was afterward alleged as a reason why Mr. D. 
 should no longer hazard the writing of his own memon-s 
 upon the contingency of life. 
 
 '•In reference to some auto-biography of yourself,"' 
 writes a member of Dr. Clarke's family, this is not the 
 first time I have entreated you, nor will it be the last, 
 till I know that you are attending to the suggestion. 
 No man, my friend, Avhose intellect has, like yours, 
 sprung up amid the shallows of this world's advantages, 
 ' dieth to himself You will be written, well or ill : and 
 envy is a scribe as well as honesty. You told my 
 father, that if he did not write his own life, some one 
 would ' immolate his reputation at the shrine of lucre,' 
 The next morning he sat down at four o'clock, and pro- 
 ducod, with little intermission, what you will shortly 
 read. Would that I could for a moment be Samuel 
 Drew, and you Adam Clarke, in the application of the 
 above." 
 
 The force of these observations Mr. Drew felt ; but, 
 alas ! physical debility rendered him then unequal to 
 the suw2:ested task. Availing himself of a friend's as- 
 A2 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 sistance, a few particulars of his boyhood were com- 
 mitted to writing, when the encroachment of disease 
 forbade further progress, and death transferred the brief 
 manuscript from the fatlier to the son. 
 
 Under an oppressive conviction of inadequacy, yet as 
 a fihal duty, the writer has endeavoured to give comple- 
 tion to the design of his parent. In prosecuting his un- 
 dertaking, many interesting circumstances in his father's 
 life, many pleasing traits of character, and many impor- 
 tant facts have, for the first time, come to his know- 
 ledge ; and if tiie pleasurable feelings which these have 
 raised in his own bosom be in any degree participated 
 by those who peruse this narrative, his labour will be 
 ampFy compensated. 
 
 Consanguinity, while it opens the most authentic 
 sources of information, imposes its peculiar restraints ; 
 and did the individual whose character is sketched in 
 this memoir exhibit fewer excellences or greater in- 
 firmities, it might be difficult for the son to maintain the 
 impartiality of the biographer. From this difiiculty he 
 trusts he is exempt. 
 
 Wishing chiefly to present the reader with those 
 features in his father's character which are not seen in 
 his writings, he has been less solicitous to show the 
 metaphysician than to depict the man — to portray the 
 philosopher than to delineate the Christian. For this 
 rieason, many letters of profound thought and great 
 value have given place to others written in the playful- 
 ness of humour, the warmtli of aff'^ction, the unreserved- 
 ness of friendship, or the glow of pious feeling. 
 
 To deprecate the severity of criticism, because the 
 writer appears for the first time before the public, would 
 be unavailing. He asks credit for upright intentions : 
 for the manner in which his task is executed, he wishes 
 no other meed than justice and candour award. That 
 the contents of this volume will be universally approved, 
 he does not anticipate. Though irritating expressions 
 have been avoided, no fact or opinion has been sup- 
 pressed from a fear of giving offence ; and if, in endea- 
 vouring to exhibit.* faithful portrait, he has unwittingly 
 provoked hostility, he must expect retaliation. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 vii 
 
 In the perusal of the foUowino: pages, those persons 
 who knew Mr. Drew only as a Methodist, and who ex- 
 pect to see him, as a friend expressed it, "swimming in 
 a river of Methodism," wiil probably experience a feel- 
 ing of disappointment. Equally dissatisfied will those 
 readers be who, acquainted with his reputation as a 
 metaphysical writer, seek in this volume a memoir of 
 the accomplished scholar or the learned divine. But, 
 though destitute of the ordinary features of literary or 
 religious biography, there is a moral m the life of 
 Samuel Drew which must present itself to every 
 thoughtful reader. 
 
 .Tacob Halls Drew. 
 
 St. Austell, February, 1834. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 P«se 
 
 Preliminary Remarks 13 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 Family Connections and Parentage 18 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 Birth of S:iniuel Drew — Poverty of his parents — Anecdotes of his 
 childhood — His education — His mother's death — Employed at a 
 stainping mill — Moral debasement, and its cause 23 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 Samuel's temper in boyhood — Apprenticed to a shoemaker — Harsh 
 usage — Evil habits — .^necdutes and incidents -Absconds from his 
 master's service — Consequent hardships — Returns to his father's 
 house 30 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 His brother's character — Family anecdotes — His sister's strong affec- 
 tion for him — Her remarkable deliverance from danger .... 41 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 
 Samuel is employed in the neighbourhood of Plymouth — His char- 
 acter at that time — Perilous smuggling adventure 49 
 
 SECTION VII. 
 
 Methodism in St. Austell — Dr. Adam Clarke's appointment and 
 labours there— Death of Jabez Drew — Its effect on Samuel — He 
 becomes decidedly religious, and joins the Methodist society . . 54 
 
X 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 SECTION VIII. 
 
 Page 
 
 Mr. Drew begins to work in St. Austell as a journeyman shoemaker 
 — His master's character — His first literary bias — He commences 
 business for himself — His difficulties and perseverance . . . . 61 
 
 SECTIOx'lX. 
 
 Literary pursuits — Appointed a local preacher and class-leader — 
 Dismissal from office — Instances of benevolent disposition — Suc- 
 cess in business — He abandons politics 68 
 
 SECTION X. 
 
 Traits of character — Mr. Drew's method of instructing his workmen, 
 &c. — His marriage — He purposes emigrating to America ... 77 
 
 SECTION XI. 
 
 Mr. Drew's first literary compositions — His mode of study — Occa- 
 sion of his becoming an author — Remarks on Paine's " Age of 
 Reason" published— First acquaintance with the Rev. John 
 Whitaker — Favourable reception of his remarks — Elegy on the 
 death of Mr. Patterson 
 
 SECTION XII 
 
 Controversy with Mr. Polwhele and " A Friend of the Church" . . 92 
 SECTION XIII. 
 
 Progress of Mr. Drew's Essay on the Soul— Interview with Mr. 
 Whitaker— Acquaintance with Mr. Brittoii— Essay on the Soul 
 published— Its favourable reception— Mr. Polwhele's generous 
 conduct 100 
 
 SECTION XIV. 
 
 Extension of Mr. Drew's literary acquaintance — He commences 
 his Essay on the Identity and Resurrection of the Human Body . 112 
 
 SECTION XV. 
 
 Mr. Drew delivers lectures on English' grammar and geography- 
 Commencement of the friendship between him and Dr. Adam 
 Clarke— He is elected a member of the Manchester Philological 
 Society— His connection with Dr. Coke, and relinquishment of 
 business 
 
 SECTION XVI. 
 
 Mr. Drew is invited to enter the church— His conversation with a 
 Deist — Ho writes as a reviewer 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 xi 
 
 SECTION XVII. 
 
 Pag^ 
 
 Completion of Mr. Drew's Treatise on the Identitj- and Resurrec- 
 tion of the Body — He submits his MS. to various literary char- 
 acters — Publication of his Essay — Its reception with the public . 139 
 
 SECTION XVIII. 
 
 Death and Memoir of Mr. Whitaker— Mr. Drew's illness — His ac- 
 quaintance with Colonel Sandys and Professor Kidd — He is ad- 
 vised to write for the Burnet prize 148 
 
 SECTION XIX. 
 
 Treatise on the Being and Attributes of the Deity undertaken as a 
 Prize Essay — Mr. Drew thinks of editing a provincial Newspaper 
 — His " Arguments' on the Divinity of Christ," and " Reply to 
 Thomas Prout," published . 159 
 
 SECTION XX. 
 
 Death of Mr. Drew's father — Examination of Dr. Kidd's Essay on 
 the Trinity — Publication of the History of Cornwall — Appointed 
 by the Methodist Conference to write the Life of Dr. Coke . . 168 
 
 SECTION XXI. 
 Mr. Drew contemplates a philosophical investigation of the tenets of 
 
 Wesleyan Methodism — His Essay on the Being and Perfections 
 of God published — He is urged to write on the Eternal Sonship of 
 Christ — His sentiments on that subject 176 
 
 SECTION XXII. 
 
 Mr. Drew's removal to Liverpool — His friendly reception there — 
 Commencement of the Imperial Magazine — Intimacy with Dr. 
 Clarke's family — Destruction of the Caxton premises by fire . . 187 
 
 SECTION XXIII. 
 
 Mr. Drew's first residence in London — Effect of his preaching on a 
 Roman Catholic — His degree of A.M. conferred — Death of Mrs. 
 Drew — Its consequences — Mr. D 's attachment to Cornwall — He 
 declines a professorship in the London University 200 
 
 SECTION XXIV. 
 
 Mr. Drew's prolonijed residence in London — Effect of Dr. Clarke's 
 death on him — His health visibly declines — His reluctance to yield 
 to the demands of an enfeebled constitution — Rapid diminution of 
 strength — He resolves to quit London 210 
 
xii 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 SECTION XXV. 
 
 Page 
 
 Effect of bodily debility on Mr. Drew's mind — He leaves London 
 — His journey to Cornwall — His last days and death — His epitaph 
 — Further particulars of his decline — Tribute of his townsmen to 
 his memory 219 
 
 SECTION XXVI. 
 
 Mr. Drew's personal appearance — His domestic habits — Training 
 of his children — His affability and readiness to instruct — Famil- 
 iarity in correspondence — Singular instance of monomania ■ 231 
 
 SECTION XXVII. 
 
 Instances of his humility, integrity, sensibility, benevolence, and 
 pacific temper — Anonymous letter censuring his conduct — Un- 
 pleasant dilemma 252 
 
 SECTION xxvni. 
 
 Mr. Drew's candour and freedom from censoriousness — His inde- 
 pendence of thought shown in a letter to Dr. Adam Clarke — His 
 catholic spirit exemplified in a public address, and in various let- 
 ters — His pacific disposition 265 
 
 SECTION XXIX. 
 
 Miscellaneous traits of character— Conversational talents . . . .278 
 
 SECTION XXX. 
 
 Mr. Drew's character as a Christian and a teacher of religion — 
 Peculiarities of his preaching 392 
 
 SECTION XXXI. 
 Mr. Drew's intellectual character 304 
 
 SECTION XXXII. 
 Character of his writings ^ 31 S 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Miscellanpous Sayings, Opinions, and Conversational Remarks . . 48.1 
 
 Letters of Rcligi us Counsel 507 
 
 An " Ode on Christmas" (Mr. Drew's earliest existing composition) 523 
 
LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 SECTION 1. 
 Preliminary Remarks. 
 
 Whoever reads attentively the page of History and the 
 book of JHuman Life will perceive an intimate connection be- 
 tween the religion of the New Testament and the moral and 
 civil condition of man, — a connection so intimate as to author- 
 ize him in placing Christian principles and human happiness 
 in the relation of cause and effect. 
 
 Though, with the great majority of the human family, judg- 
 ment and inclination are at variance ; though immediate grati- 
 fication, at whatever hazard, is commonly preferred to future 
 advantage, and the concerns of the present life are suffered to 
 outweigh the considerations of eternity ; yet, if our temporal 
 welfare be so closely allied lo our religious belief, and this be- 
 lief involve our final destiny, whatever tends to confirm and 
 inculcate the doctrines of Christianity must promote the best 
 interests of mankind, and be entitled to their highest gratitude. 
 
 The secret promptings of every man's spirit indicate that 
 his existence is not limited to the duration of a few years ; yet 
 such is the antipathy of many to the restraints of religion, that 
 they seek reasons for rejecting the testimony of their con- 
 science, and willingly disbelieve that future retribution which 
 is the foundation of every religious system, and every efficient 
 moral code. Even in minds rightly disposed, doubts possibly 
 mingle, at times, with the belief of a future state ; and to the 
 sincere inquirer after truth, difficulties not unfrequently occur, 
 which, in a matter so momentous, must occasion mental inquie- 
 tude. 
 
 To dispel those doubts — to remove such difficulties — to showr 
 the coincidence between Reason and Revelation — to examine 
 the evidences on which our expectations of eternal happiness 
 rest — to place them in the eleareat irid most commanding light 
 B 
 
14 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW 
 
 — to point the way from probability to "a sure and certain hope" 
 — and to enforce, by powerful appeals to the understanding and 
 the conscience, those practical results which should follow from 
 such premises — is a work of incalculable utility; and he who 
 performs it successfully presents a less questionable claim to 
 the approbation of his species than the greatest conqueror that 
 has lived, from Nimrod to Napoleon. 
 
 Whether the individual whose life we are about to narrate 
 be entitled to share in such high praise, the reader of the fol- 
 lowing pages will determine. But whatever, in this respect, 
 may be the sentiments of him who writes, or of him who reads, 
 it is neither to rear a monument to departed excellence, nor to 
 gratify the craving appetite of excited curiosity, that the biog- 
 rapher should undertake his task. The utility of his labours, 
 and the probable influence of the character he attempts to por- 
 tray, are of far higher importance than the gaining for his sub- 
 ject or his performance the breath of human applause. 
 
 The words of inspiration attest, that " none of us liveth to 
 himself, and no man dieth to himself." Every man's conduct 
 is either beneficial or pernicious while he lives, and his name 
 becomes a guiding light or a warning beacon to posterity. The 
 cfTects of his example may be confined to the domestic circle, 
 or felt throughout a nation ; but in either case it will follow, 
 that " the memory of the just is blessed, but the name of the 
 wicked shall rot." 
 
 Faithful biography is to the moral philosopher what a series 
 of experiments is to the student of physical science. Each 
 is a register of facts from which important principles may be 
 deduced. From the one we infer the properties of matter, and 
 from the other we acquire an insight into the operations of 
 mind. 
 
 But, though all biographical writings tend thus to enlarge 
 our knowledge of human nature, there are some memoirs which 
 furnish more valuable facts and more delicate tests than others. 
 Where, for instance, the mental powers have been called into 
 exercise at a late period of life, and under circumstances sin- 
 gularly unpropitious to their development, — where obstacles 
 apparently insuperable have been vanquished by resolution and 
 perseverance, — and where, in a moral aspect, the commence- 
 ment of life presents a signal contrast to its subsequent tenour, 
 — more important knowledge may perhaps be gained than 
 from the memoirs of those who have entered on their career, 
 and pursued their course, under a more favourable concurrence 
 of events. 
 
PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 
 
 IS 
 
 The philosophy of mind is not less indebted to the suhject 
 than to the manner m whicn it may be presented to our notice. 
 A fondness for adventurous exploit, and a love of the marvel- 
 lous, lead the majority of readers to attach value to those lives 
 only which consist 
 
 " Of moving acciJents by flood and field, 
 Of hair-breadth 'scapes 1' the imminent deadly breach." 
 
 Extraordinary events alone claim their attention ; those minor 
 circumstances which chiefly exhibit the character are either 
 overlooked or disregarded. 
 
 But are the great and prominent occurrences of a man's life 
 necessarily the most instructive? May not a more valuable 
 lesson frequently be gathered from facts which, though essen- 
 tial to a right apprehension of the subject, are in themselves 
 apparently insignificant ? Wiien an individual has attained dis- 
 tinction, it is not enough to know the conspicuous stages by 
 which he rose to elevation : if we would be fully benefited by 
 the history, of his life, we should mark the successive steps 
 which conducted him from one stage to another, and trace, if 
 possible, every motive and every movement. 
 
 The finished painting of a master's hand may excite univer- 
 sal admiration ; but he who aims at equal excellence looks not 
 merely at the result, but at the process which led on to per- 
 fection. The preparation of the canvass and the colours, the 
 distribution of light and shade, the numberless touches and era- 
 sures, of which the superficial observer knows nothing, are to 
 him matters of engrossing interest ; while to him who studies 
 the science of mind, the creative power, the glowing concep- 
 tions, the hopes, the fears, the anxieties, and the varied feelings 
 of the artist, during the progress of his work, are of higher 
 value than the final display of his skill, or the manner of its 
 execution. 
 
 The great end of biography is to excite emulation, — to call 
 forth the latent or dormant energies of the mind, — to show that 
 what man has done, man may do, — that the field of honourable 
 labour is open, and the reward offered to all who will exert 
 themselves : — in short, to lead to the practical application of 
 that pithy exhortation, " Go, and do thou likewise." 
 
 Example, to be useful, must be capable of imitation. A bril- 
 liant career, resulting cliiefly from an unusual train of events, 
 may dazzle and astonish, but lead to no beneficial result. To 
 imitate with a reasonable hope of success, our circumstances 
 
16 
 
 LIFE OF SAHCEL DREW. 
 
 should not be less favourable than those in which the object 
 of our emulalion was platted. Tf!e lives, therefore, of those 
 individuals who, from a condition common to the bulk of man- 
 kind, unappalled by difficulties, and destitute of ordinary ad- 
 vantages, have, in humble dependence on a gracious Provi- 
 dence, put forth their mental energies, and, by persevering 
 efforts, become the architects of their own fortune, and the 
 instruments of great good to others, are the most useful, and 
 perhaps the most worihy of being recorded. 
 
 There are many persons who profess to admit the historic 
 truth of Christianity, and yet pour contempt upon the humbling 
 doctrines of tlie cross. " Evangeiii-al Religion" is a phrase 
 at which they take offence; and that change of the will and 
 affections which it is understood to imply, they are less ready 
 to seek th:ui to call in question. Not having felt " the powers 
 of the world to come," and being indisposed to make the in- 
 quiry with the docile spirit of a disciple, they would fain per- 
 suade themselves that these things are but enthusiastic dreams, 
 and not the sober realities which every genuine follower of 
 Christ may and must experience. 'I'o such persons, no argu- 
 ment will be so conclusive, and no appeal so forcible, as the 
 fact, that individuals of the most penetrating minds have avowed 
 themselves the subjects of such a supernatural change, and 
 evinced the truth of the declaration by a deportment challeng- 
 ing the most rigorous scrutiny. 
 
 In the subject of this memoir we have such an instance. 
 Though possessed of high intellectual capacity, yet, for its de- 
 velo[)ment and direction he was mainly, if not wholly, in- 
 debted to the work of Divine grace upon his heart. The fac- 
 ulties of his mind were thus roused into activity, and conse- 
 crated to the service of his God and his neighbour. It is in 
 connection with his acknowledged mental superiority that his 
 religious profession and practice are deemed of public impor- 
 tance ; and it is with reference to his religious life, and his 
 humble origin, that his literary progress is chiefly interesting. 
 There are, we believe, thousands and lens of thousands who 
 can testify as explicitly as he, '' that the Son of man hath 
 power on earth to forgive sins," and who have exemplified as 
 fully "the fruits of the Spirit;" but there are few of the pro- 
 fessors of this " vital power of godliness" whose clear sight- 
 edness and habits of close thinking more completely exempt 
 them from the suspicion of enthusiasm and self-delusion. 
 
 The memoirs of a merely literary man, daily pursuing the 
 same or similar occupations, and secluded in his study from 
 
PRELIMINARY RBMARKS. 
 
 17 
 
 the changeful scenery of human life, exhibit few of those 
 incidents that awaken general interest. But where an indi- 
 vidual has raised himself from obscurity by superior intelligence, 
 — has boldly grappled, in the outset of his career, with the 
 evils of ignorance and poverty — has struggled successfully 
 against the opposing current of circumstances, and won for 
 himself honourable renown ; and all this commenced in the 
 ardour of religious feeling, sustained by the spirit of genuine 
 piety, and prosecuted throughout in sincere and faithful reliance 
 on that Almighty Being to whom all his abilities and successes 
 were ascribed ; not only is our curiosity gratified, and our ad- 
 miration raised, but the religion of Christ is exalted in our esti- 
 mation, and, through the feelings induced by such an example, 
 our hearts are made better. 
 
 Among those who know little of vital Christianity but from 
 the caricatures which its enemies have drawn, and of which 
 its thoughtless friends sometimes furnish the originals, aa 
 opinion is very prevalent that it is inimical to scientific pursuits. 
 This, however, is an opinion entirely destitute of foundation ; 
 and whatever tends to undeceive in a matter so important must 
 be valuable to every friend of religion, and every lover of truth. 
 If those views of Christianity to which reference has been 
 made have any influence on the pursuit and application of know- 
 ledge, its influence must be beuefcial. It cannot be supposed 
 that those convictions of the justice, goodness, and mercy of 
 God which fasten on the mind of the pious believer, will indis- 
 pose him to trace out the wisdom and the power displayed in all 
 the works of Deity. It cannot be credited, that the energetic 
 principle which regulates our passions, controls our temper, and 
 harmonizes our moral system, will incapacitate us for mental 
 exercise or intellectual enjoyment. Nor can it be reasonably 
 thought, that the faith which supplies a purer motive, and prom- 
 ises a more glorious reward, than wealth or fame, will furnish 
 a less powerful' incentive to honourable exertion. 
 
 Without yielding the truth of a proposition which we believe 
 may be satisfactorily established upon abstract principles, but 
 which it would be foreign to our present purpose to pursue, we 
 may confidently leave it to the evidence of facts. The accu- 
 mulation and comparison of these will lead to the conviction, 
 that the religion of the heart is favourable to the highest dis- 
 plays of the intellect, and confirm the scriptural declaration, 
 that " godliness is profitable for all things." Each succeeding 
 generation has furnished evidence that this proposition is true ; 
 and our own days are not without brilliant examples. 
 B2 
 
18 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUIL DREVf. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 Family Connections and Parentage. 
 
 The ancestors of Mr. Drew have been represented as re- 
 spectable and affluent ; but the elderly female in whose memory 
 the family archives were ciiiefly deposited having been several 
 years deceased, with her are gone the proofs of ancient gen- 
 tility. His great-grandfather came from Exeter into some part 
 of (yornwaii, w here he kept a tavern ; and a son of his, named 
 Benjamin, followed the father's occupation in St. Austell. He ' 
 married a. person of considerable property; but assuming the 
 rank of an independent gentleman, and plunging into dissipation 
 and extravagance, he squandered his substance, and brought 
 himself and family into difficulties. JNine of his children, 
 seven of whom were females, lived to maturity. Benjamin, 
 the elder son, settled in the neighbouring fishing town of Meva- 
 gissey, where the junior branches of his family still reside. 
 The descendants of the married daughters are now found in the 
 Cornish families of O.sler, May, Bayley, Julyan, and Hockins. 
 
 The attention of Joseph, the second son, the father of Samuel 
 Drew, was first directed to the welfare of his soul, at the age 
 of eighteen, under a sermon of the reverend George Whitefield. 
 "Witli some of his youthful rompanions, he attended the out- 
 door preaching in a nei^hi)()uring village, as a matter of frolic ; 
 but, like many who were attracted in those days by its novelty, 
 though he " went to scofl",'' lie " remained to pray." The truths 
 of religion were set forth in a manner so new and so convincing, 
 maintained by arguments so powerful, and enforced by eloquence 
 so resistless, that he was struck to the heart. He returned to 
 his father's house ; but finding its scenes of riot and dissipation 
 perfectly uncongenial with his newly acquired feelings, he with- 
 drew from the company of his old associates ; sought opportu- 
 nities for secret prayer ; and diligently attended the ministry 
 of Messrs. Whitefield, Wesley, and the early assistants of 
 their itinerant labours. 
 
 it is not to be supposed that this alteration in his deport- 
 ment passed unregarded by his irreligious relatives. In his 
 case, the prediction of Christ respecting the treatment of his 
 followers, that " a man's foes shall be they of his own house- 
 
CHARACTKR OF HIS PARE^TS. 
 
 19 
 
 hold," was literally verified. A storm of persecution was raised 
 against him, and "all manner of evil was said of him falsely" 
 by his nearest relatives. But he sought Divine aid, received 
 it, and stood unmoved. 
 
 A further and a severer trial, however, awaited him. From all 
 the family his serious deportment had subjected him to acts 
 of unkindness ; but from hlsfather he experienced the most cruel 
 treatment. Unrelenting severity was exercised towards him, 
 with the expectation of overcoming his resolution ; and ere long 
 he was subjected to the painful alternative of giving up his reli- 
 gious duties and connections, or quilting the paternal roof. 
 Brought up to no business, and accustomed to a life of indo- 
 lence and indulgence, the trial to him was most painful. Like 
 Moses, however, he chose " rather to sufler affliction with the 
 people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season." 
 
 An outcast from his father's house, and spurned by his near- 
 est kindred, the dissevering of the ties of relationship caused 
 the bonds of religious union to be the more closely drawn. He 
 now became a member of the society formed by the Rev. John 
 "Wesley in St. Austell, and continued in that connection to his 
 dying day. His worldly prospects being thus sacrificed for 
 "peace and a good conscience," he sought a means of liveli- 
 hood suited to his circumstances. To the drudgery of daily 
 labour he cheerfully submitted ; and in " the sweat of his face 
 he ate bread,"' until a late period of life. 
 
 In the year 1756, when about twenty-six years of age, Joseph 
 Drew married Susannah Hooper, who died childless before the 
 end of three years. His circumstances could not, at this lime, 
 have been more favourable than when he was driven from his 
 father's door; for he was considered exceedingly fortunate, 
 and raised beyond his just expectations, in marrying a person 
 wlio, had she outlived her parents, would have been entitled to 
 property of the value of twenty pounds. 
 
 An incident connected with his first wife's death proves how 
 relentless were his persecutors and slanderers. Before he be- 
 came the subject of those religious convictions which so influ- 
 enced his future life, he one day, in a festive party, obtained 
 possession of a handsome snufl"-box, on liie singular condition 
 of paying two guineas upon the birth of his first child ; and a 
 formal instrument to that effect being drawn up and executed, 
 ■was witnessed by all the company. Ten years after this trans- 
 action, his wife dying in a stale of pregnancy, a report was 
 industriously circulated by some of his former companions, 
 that he had poisoned her to avoid paying the money. So 
 
20 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 willing, too, were the public, at that period, to believe any thing 
 to the discredit of a Methodist, that this most groundless and 
 injurious allegation was very extensively credited, and years 
 elapsed before the prejudice excited against its blameless sub- 
 ject was entirely removed. 
 
 That the religion of this worthy man was genuine, and the 
 result of the deepest conviction, is sufficiently evident, from the 
 firmness with which he maintained its profession. In one part 
 of a diary which he kept, he uses these words : " Oh ! how 
 gladly would I fly into the arms of death, or to the fiery stake, 
 to go home to Jesus !" Yet, though undaunted in the cause of 
 that faith which he had espoused, his mental powers were not 
 above the ordinary standard. He was naturally timid and dif- 
 fident ; and, without referring to the grace of God, we should 
 find it diflicult to account for the decision of character which 
 he exhibited in his religious course. For his situation in life, 
 he, like his brother and sisters, had been well educated; 
 and at a time when the art of writing was of rarer attainment 
 than in the present day, he was said to be the best scribe in 
 his neighbourhood. Among the religious society with which 
 he was connected this superior education gave iiim a degree 
 of influence which his personal piety confirmed and sustained. 
 He was early employed as a religious teacher, both in the ca- 
 pacity of class-leader and local preacher ;* and his instruc- 
 tions were rendered a blessing to many souls. 
 
 * To those readers who are unacquainted with the peculiarities of Me- 
 thodism, it may be necessary to state, that private meetings for religious 
 instruction furni one of its distinguishing features. U.sually from ten to 
 twenty individuals of the society associate in what is called a " Class," 
 under the direction of a senior member, who is nominated to the office by 
 the superintending minister. This person is the "class-leader." The 
 individuals under liis charge are expected to meet together once a week, at 
 a fixed time and [dace ; and it becomes his duty, after a short introductory 
 prayer, to ask each such questions, and giv£ such advice, as he thinks 
 will promote personal i>iety. These " class meetings" are generally limited 
 to an hour, and are concluded, as they are begun, with singing and prayer. 
 According to niethodistic discipline, every member of the Methodist 
 society must belong to a class ; and every class must be visited once a 
 quarter by the "travelling preacher," who, after satisfying himself of 
 the filucss of each individual, by personal inquiry, gives him or her a note 
 or ticket, as a token of membership. 'I'he class-leaders are themselves 
 subject to the preachers' fre(pient KU|i<'rvision, with reference to their per- 
 sonal conduct, and that of the individuals committed to their charge. 
 
 Among the Methodists, a local preacher is not especially set apart for 
 the ministerial office, so as to devote to it his whole time and attention ; 
 but is employed as an occasional teacher on the Sabbath. His labours ar« 
 generally confined to the circuit, or near neighbourhood, of the place where 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS PAliENTS. 
 
 21 
 
 Thomasin. his second wife, the mother of Samuel Drew, he 
 married in 1762. Her maiden name was Osborne. Herfatlier 
 was a gardener in the neighbourhood of iMevagissey, wliere 
 her paternal grandfather had settled in early life in ihe same 
 business — having come from Somersetshire, his native county. 
 She also was a Methodist ; and though she died of consump- 
 tion before her son Samuel was ten years of age, he describes 
 her, from his recollections, as a woman of strong, masculine 
 understanding; "of courage and zeal in the cause of God 
 ■which nothing could damp ; and ready to brave every hard- 
 ship that the discharge of duty might render necessary." IShe 
 was, indeed, a remarkable woman. Born of parents who were 
 unable to do rhore than j)rocure for their children and them- 
 selves the necessaries of life, her education had been greatly, 
 if not totally, neglected. When, in early womanhood, her 
 heart first was affected by the truths of religion, through the 
 preaching of Mr. Wesley, it is uncertain whether she could 
 read, and it is known that she could not write. She applied 
 all the energies of her mind to overcome these obstructions to 
 knowledge; and it is said, that in both reading and writing she 
 was entirely self-taught. Nor was it the mere ability to read 
 and write that she acquired. The specimen of her penmanship 
 which the writer of this memoir has seen is apparently the 
 firm, bold character of a practised hand ; and the following ex- 
 tract from a manuscript of hers proves that she must have 
 made some proficiency in the art of composition. 
 
 " 'Come out from among them, and be ye separate, and 
 touch not the unclean thing, and I will receive you, and will be 
 a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, 
 saith the Lord Almighty.' Here is a privilege I would not 
 barter for a world ! to be a daughter of the Lord Almighty, 
 the King of kings, the Omnipotent God, the Sovereign of the 
 universe ! If I am his child, adopted into his family, by faith in 
 his Son Jesus Christ, all his attributes are at work for my 
 good. His grace is mine, his wisdom is mine, his power is mine ; 
 for he is made imto me ' wisdom, sancaification, and redemp- 
 tion.' He hath promised that ' all things shall work together for 
 good to them lliat love him.' His cross is mine, his crown is 
 mine, his peace is mine, his patielice is mine, his heaven is mine. 
 
 he resides ; and as he is supposed to follow his secular occupation, he 
 receives no remuneration for his ministerial services. In some circuits 
 the local preachers pay their own unavoidable travelling expenses. No 
 class ot ministers can be more disinterested than this. 
 
22 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 " ' Of him, and through him, and to him, are all things : to 
 whom be glory for ever. Amen.' — Of thee, O eternal Bene- 
 factor ! I had this hand with which I am now writing ; thou 
 gavest me my eyes, to look on ail thy wondrous works ; all 
 my senses are tliine : assist me, 0 Lord, and I will employ 
 them to thy glory. As I have heretofore ' yielded my mem- 
 bers instruments of unrighteousness unto sin,' so, for the time 
 to come, I will (through thy grace) 'yield my members ser- 
 vants to righteousness unto holiness,' that my end may be 
 'everlasting life.' What small degree of knowledge I have is 
 thine, and shall be employed for tiiee. What learning thou 
 hast bestowed on me shall not henceforth be prostituted to 
 Satan, as it has in times past. If I have any wisdom, it is 
 thine, and shall be used for thee. My memory, O Lord, do 
 thou sanctify ; that it may retain nothing but what shall be 
 profitable for me, and help me onward in the way to thy king- 
 dom. Thou hast given me a voice; and to sing thy praises it 
 shall be devoted. All that I have and am is thine. Take me, 
 
 0 Lord, body, soul, and spirit ; mould me into thine own glo- 
 rious likeness ; make me ' a vessel to honour, meet for the 
 Master's use ;' and then appoint me labour, or toil, or suf- 
 fering, or death, if it seem good in thy sight. Only give me 
 Strength to bear it, and I will gladly ' take up my cross and 
 follow thee.' 
 
 " ' To you that believe he is precious.' — Oh ! my eternal 
 Friend and Lover, thou art precious to my soul ! more pre- 
 cious than the gold of Ophir ! the pearls of Ethiopia cannot 
 equal thee in my esteem. Thou art tliat wisdom that stood 
 by God, at his right-hand, when he made the world, and all 
 that is therein. 0 ! make me a possessor of thyself, the only 
 true wisdom, the life divine, the pearl of great price ! 
 
 " ' 'I'hey that sow in tears shall reap in joy.' — Grant me 
 this portion, O my God ! and deny me what else thou pleasest. 
 
 1 appeal to thee, that I bow not my knees for any temporal 
 good ; I desire not a portion with the great; I only ask thy 
 grace to keep me unspotted from the world, and to fit and pre- 
 pare me for thy kingdom. Amen." 
 
 Such were the parents of Samuel Drew. His mother''s 
 abilities he appears to have especially inherited : in tlie other 
 children, the qualities of both father and mother were blended. 
 Their piety, not being a natural property, could not be trans- 
 mitted ; but, by the grace of God, the children were made par- 
 takers of that salvation which their parents so fully experienced. 
 
H13 BIRTH. 
 
 23 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 Birth of Samuel Drew — Poverty of his parents — Anecdotes of his child- 
 hood — His education — His mother's- death — Employed at a stamping 
 mill — Moral debasement, and its cause. 
 
 In a solitary cottage in the parish of St. Austell, and rather 
 more than a mile eastward from the town, resided the pious 
 couple whom we have just described. Their dwelling was 
 very mean, containing a single ground-room and two bed- 
 rooms ; and at one end of it was a mill, used to break lumps 
 of tin ore, once known by the name of Penhale's mill, but no 
 longer existing as such, having been converted, several years 
 since, into a habitation. About half an acre of enclosed ground 
 belonged to the cottage, with which, and the pasturage of the 
 adjoining commen, they managed to keep a cow. In this resi- 
 dence they had four children. Their second son, the subject 
 of this memoir, was born on the 3d of March, 1765, and 
 baptized in the parish church, on the 24lh of the same 
 month, by the name of Samuel. Jabez, the. eldest, who was 
 two years Samuel's senior, died at the age of twenty-two ; and 
 the third child, Ephraim, in infancy. Thomasin, the youngest, 
 is the only survivor ; and to her recollections the writer is in- 
 debted for many of the facts relating to her brother's early life. 
 
 At this period, th^ father's occupation fluctuated between 
 that of husbandman and what, in Cornwall and Devonshire, is 
 called " streaming for tin :" that is, searching the soil and sub- 
 soil, examining the deposites of mountain streams, and selecting, 
 by the process of washing and pulverizing, such parts as are 
 valuable. By diligence and care, he was enabled to lay by a 
 luile money ; and soon after the birth of the youngest child, 
 he took a better house, with two or three fields, at Fernissick, 
 a short distance from his old habitation. Here, with his scanty 
 capital, he procured a cart and horses, and with them found 
 employment as a carrier. Afterward he became acquainted 
 with a venerable Quaker, whose son had lately established a 
 malthouse and brewery in the neighbourhood ; and being en- 
 gaged by the latter to carry oirt his malt and beer, was fully 
 occupied. For some time the business in this establishment 
 
LFIE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 looked very imposing ; but the brewer regarding pleasure more 
 than traffic, insolvency soon followed. Several pounds were 
 due to the poor carrier, which could not be obtnined ; and he 
 was left, without fodder for his cattle, or food for his children, 
 to mourn his loss, and seek for himself and team some other 
 employment. 
 
 Although the parents were extremely poor, '.hey made every 
 effort to give their children a little education. For a while; 
 the two boys were sent daily to St. Austell, to a school, where 
 the charge forpupils in reading only was, we believe, a penny 
 a week. Jabez took great delight in learning, and in a short 
 time made considerable proficiency in writing and arithmetic ; 
 but Samuel's mind seemed to have been formed in a different 
 mould. Book-learning had no charms for him ; and he was 
 more disposed to play truant than attend school. With this 
 disposition, he was not likely to excel, had the opportunity 
 been afforded him. Yet he frequently exhibited a considerable 
 degree of shrewdness and resolution, instances of which are 
 yet in the recollection of those who knew him in childhood. 
 
 One of his juvenile perforinances, related by himself, indi- 
 cates, at a very early age, a habit of perseverance. It had not 
 indeed the character of utility ; but of that he was then too 
 young to judge. "When I was about six years old, I felt 
 much interested in the different parts of the process of mining, 
 and was very ambitious of sinking a shaft. I prevailed on 
 my brother and another boy to join me, and we commenced 
 operations somewhere near our house. I, though tiie young- 
 est, was captain ; and having procured a board and rope, with 
 a pick and shovel, one drew up with the rope what the others 
 dug out. We must have followed our task a considerable 
 time, and sunk our shaft several feet, wh^i my father put an 
 end to our mining operations. A handful of earth being thrown 
 into the pit while I was at work, I could not, on account of its 
 depth, discover the aggressor ; but supposing it to be one of 
 my comrades, I ordered him to desist, and on its being 
 repeated, I, in virtue of my office as captain, threatened him 
 with correction. To my great mortification, my father then 
 discovered himself, ordered me to ascend, pointed out how dan- 
 gerous the pit would be to the cattle, and as a punisliment for 
 our clandestine proceeding, assigned us the task of filling it 
 in again."* 
 
 * Dr. Franklin, in narrating his boyish adventures, alludes to an inci- 
 dent as an early indication of the same valuable quality of perseverance, 
 and that disposition to promote works ol public utility which bo remark- 
 
HIS MOTHEU's INSTRUCTION. 
 
 25 
 
 Possessing exuberant animal spirits, Samuel often annoyed 
 his parents by his pranks. For some mischief which he had 
 done, his father threatened him with punishment, but did not 
 hiform him when or how it was to be inflicted. The next 
 morning, on going to school, he was furnished with a note to 
 his master, which, on subsequent inquiry, was found not to 
 have been delivered. On being aslied what lie had done with 
 the note, he confessed that he had destroyed it, because he sus- 
 pected it to contain an order for punishment. His craftiness 
 was not always so innoxious as this. At one time, having 
 incurred liis father's displeasure, he was threatened v/ith chas- 
 tisement ; a sentence which, when once passed, he knew was 
 sure to be executed, and which was commonly inflicted on the 
 culprit in bed. Apprehensive of such a visit, Samuel prevailed 
 on his unsuspecting brother to exchange places with him for 
 the night ; and the stripes were thus transferred from the guilty 
 to the innocent. 
 
 By his vivacious disposition, he seemed altogether unfitted 
 to receive instruction through the ordinary channel. This his 
 invaluable mother soon perceived, and therefore took him 
 imder her own charge. From her principally he acquired the 
 ability to read, and to her and his brother he was indebted for 
 the little knowledge of writing which he attained in childhood. 
 
 But there was a more important species of instruction which 
 this excellent woman was anxious to communicate to her 
 children. Their moral cultivation she justly regarded as of 
 higher moment than even the most necessary pans of human 
 learning, especially in tlie early dawning of reason. Scientific 
 knowledge may be more or less advantageous in after-life, 
 according to situation and circumstances ; but all men are re- 
 sponsible as moral agents ; and it is the imperative duty ol 
 parents to give their children a correct knowledge of their duty 
 to God and man, whether they have the means of imparting 
 other instruction or not. The knowledge tliat relates to the 
 ordinary concerns of life may lie forgotten : correct princi-i 
 pies, once infused into the mind, and clearly apprehended 
 
 at)ly characterized hira in after-life. FinJing the place where they were 
 accustomed to take their station for fishing sometimes inaccessible at flood- 
 tide, he prevailed on his companions to join him in constructing a wharf ; 
 and though they had many obstacles, they persevered, and accomplished 
 their object. " Yet," he remarks, " we did it at the expense of honesty ; 
 for we stole our materials, which we were reluctantly conipelleu lo 
 restore ; not exactly comprehending then, what my father endeavouxecj 
 to show us, that utility may be compromised by the absence of justice^" 
 
26 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 there, ran never be eradicated. They may be neglefted, — • 
 ihey may be perverted ; but the consciousness of their truth 
 will remain ; for the judgment recognises, and the conscience 
 approves, what the will too often disavows. The seeds of some 
 plants retain their vital principle to an unknown period. For 
 years they may remain buried in the soil, at a depih unfavour- 
 al)le to vegetation, and show no sign of vitalii}' or corruj)iion. 
 But let them be j)hiced witliiii the influence of fertilizing show- 
 ers and the solar l ays, — their germinating powr will be called 
 forth, and they will presently s]n-ing up inio light and life. 
 
 With what success the labours of Mr. Drew's mother were 
 attended was not immediately, nor for many years, seen ; but 
 when her son attained to manhood, llie fruits of her teaching 
 became evident. How deep was the impression made on his 
 mind at the tender age in which she became his teacher, care- 
 less and ihougluless as he seemed to be, will best appear in 
 the intense feeling with which his recollections of her were 
 always imbued. 
 
 "1 well remember," he said, but a few weeks before his 
 decease, " in my early days, when my mother was alive, that 
 she invariably took my brother and me by the hand, and led 
 us to the house of prayer. Her kind advice and instruction 
 were unremitting ; and even when death had closed her eyes 
 in darkness, the impression remained long upon my mind, and 
 I sighed for a companion to accompany me thither. On one 
 occasion, I well recollect, we were returning from the chapel, 
 at St. Austell, on a bright and beautiful starlight night, when 
 my mother pointed out the stars as the work of an Almighty 
 Parent, to whom we were indebted for every blessing. Struck 
 with her representation, 1 fell a degree of gratitude and adora- 
 tion which no language could express, and through nearly all 
 the night enjoyed ineffable rapture." 
 
 It was the will of a mysterious Providence, in October, 1774, 
 to remove this affectionate parent, by consumption, from her 
 sorrowing family. She was then, according to a memorandinn 
 of her husband, about forty-four years of age, and her son 
 Samuel nine.* Though of a rude and reckless disposition, he 
 was not without experiencing the utmost anguish at his mother's 
 death. His sensations on this event he seems never to have 
 
 * Mr. D. once said to a friend, "When we were following my mother 
 to the grave, I well recollect a woman observing as we passed, ' Poor 
 little things! they little know the loss they have sustained.'" This 
 shows how deeply minute circumstances, relative to his bereavement, 
 were impressed on bis childish memory 
 
DEATH OF HIS MOTHER. 
 
 27 
 
 forgotten ; and in his first metrical attempt which now exists, 
 the poignancy of iiis grief found a vent. 
 
 " These eyes have seen a tender mother torn 
 From three small babes she left behind to mourn. 
 One infant son retired from life before ; 
 Next followed she, whose loss I now deplore. 
 This throbbing I)reasl has heaved the heartfelt sigh, 
 And breathed afflictions where her ashes lie. 
 Relentless tieath ! to rob my younger years 
 Of soft indulgence and a mother's cares ; 
 Just brought to life, then left without a guide. 
 To wade through time, and grapple with the tide !" 
 
 Several years after composing the preceding lines, he says, 
 in a letter to a literary gentleman who had kindly interested 
 himself in his welfare, and wished to know the history of his 
 early life, "On visiting my mother's grave, with one of my 
 children, I wrote the following. The first couplet is supposed 
 to be spoken by the child. 
 
 " ' Why looks my father on that If.ttered stone,* 
 And seems to sigh with sorrows not his own?' 
 ' That stone, my dear, conceals from human eyes 
 The peaceful mansion where my mother lies. 
 Beneath this stone (my infant, do not weep '.) 
 The shrivelled muscles of my mother sleep ; 
 And soon, my babe, the awful hour must be 
 When thy sad soul will heave a si^h for me. 
 And say, with grief amid thy sister's cries, 
 ' BcneaLh this stone our lifeless parent lies.' 
 Shouldst thou, my dear, survive thy father's doom, 
 And wander pensive near his silent tomb. 
 Think till/ survivors will perform for thee, 
 What / do now, and thou wilt then for me.' " 
 
 That one who, like this pious female, had lived the life, 
 would " die the death, of the righteous," every reader will 
 naturally anticipate. Her trust in the atonement was firm — 
 the evidence of her acceptance clear — her death triumphant. 
 She departed this life in the full assurance of faith, leaving to 
 her children, as a legacy, her Christian example. 
 
 Rather more than a year before the mother's death, the pa- 
 
 * " Stone is a mere poetical figure. My mother's grave has no such 
 ornament. My father's circumstances would not allow it, if he had been 
 inclined to erect one. — I am unacquainted with the rules of art, and the 
 orderly methods of composition. I wr jte these lines from the impulses 
 of my own feelings and the dictates of nature." 
 
28 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 rents found it necessary to take their boys from school, that, 
 by manual labour, they might assist in their own maintenance ; 
 Jabez helped his father in their little farm, and Samuel was 
 employed at a neighbouring stamping-mill, probably that 
 attached to the house where he first drew breath. 
 
 For Cornish readers it is needless to describe the process of 
 cleansing tin ores ; but for others, a few words of explanation 
 may be necessary. 
 
 The mineral, as it is found below the surface, is imbedded 
 in, or combined with, other substances of no value ; the pro- 
 portion of refuse far exceeding the ore. The stony mass in 
 which it is commonly lodged, when broken by hammers to a 
 convenient size, is submitted to the action of tlie stamping-mill, 
 where it is pulverized. This machine is of very simple con- 
 struction. Heavy iron weights, termed stamp-heads, are 
 attached to perpendicular beams of wood, which are kept in 
 their position by a strong frame. These beams are lifted suc- 
 cessively by the revolution of a waier-whcel ; and by their 
 weight, and the momentum of their fall, the substance below is 
 reduced to powder. Tlie pulverized material is then carried by 
 a small stream of water into shallow pits prepared for its re- 
 ception, where the gravity of the mineral causes it to sink, while 
 the sandy particles pass off with the stream. This, however, 
 does not produce a sufficient separation. Children are era- 
 ployed to stir up the deposite in the pits, and keep it in agitation, 
 until this part of the separating process is complete. These 
 pits are called huddles ; and they give name to the occupation 
 of the children who labour at them. 
 
 At the tender age of eight, Samuel Drew began to work as a 
 huddle-hoy. For his services his father was to receive three 
 halfpence a day ; but when the wages of eight weeks had ac- 
 cumulated in the hands of the employer, he became insolvent, 
 and the poor boy's first earnings were lost. The mill being now 
 occupied by aiiotlier person, the wages were raised to twopence 
 a day, the higiiest sum Samuel realized in that employment, 
 though he continued to work at it more than two years. 
 
 " I well remember," he once said, " how much I and the 
 other boys were elated at this advance of wages. Not that we 
 were personally benefited, ar our friends received the money ; 
 but it added, in thought, to our importance. One of my com- 
 panions, very little older than myself, lived with an aunt, who, 
 on the death of his parents, had kindly brought him up. The 
 additional halfpenny a day so elevated him in his own opinion, 
 that he very gravely went home, and gave his aunt notice, that. 
 
HIS MORAL DEBASEMENT. 
 
 29 
 
 as soon as his wages became due, he should seek new lodgings, 
 and board himself. By the timely application of the rod she 
 convinced him that the season of independence had not yet 
 arrived ; and he returned to his labour rather crest-fallen. For 
 myself, my ambition prompted me to aspire to the rack, another 
 part of the refining process, but to that dignity I never was 
 promoted." 
 
 Associated in this occupation with wicked children, he suf- 
 fered by the pernicious influence of their conversation and 
 example. While his mother lived, she laboured to counteract 
 the moral contagion to which she saw her child thus una- 
 voidably exposed; but on her death its deteriorating effects 
 received but little check. " It may be asked," observes Mr. 
 Drew, in a short sketch of his early life which he dictated to 
 one of his children just before his last illness, " as my father 
 was a serious man, why did he not step forth, on my mother's 
 death, to supply her place 1 The reason is obvious, though by 
 no means satisfactory. Being employed as a local preacher 
 among the Methodists, every Sunday he was called upon to 
 fulfil his appointments, while the moral and religious culture of 
 his children was comparatively neglected. This system of 
 employing persons to preach on the Sabbath who have very 
 little time to instruct their families during the week, I consider 
 to be a serious evil, and one that needs especial correction. 
 Such being my father's case, it may naturally be supposed 
 that any serious impressions resulting from my mother's in- 
 structions soon vanished. I had no one to take me by the 
 hand ; and with precept and example I was now, in a great 
 measure, unacquainted." 
 
 The moral injury which Mr. Drew thus sustained, he has 
 more than once pointed out in the case of others. That Chris- 
 tians are to love their neighbours as them.^elves, and to promote 
 their welfare, is unquestionable. Nor is it less certain, that he 
 who possesses a thorough and experimental acquaintance with 
 the truths of religion, and the ability of communicating them to 
 others, should embrace the opportunities afforded him of im- 
 parting this knowledge. But let him consider well what these 
 opportunities are. and to what extent his duty to the public is 
 to take precedence of that which he owes to his immediate 
 connections. Let him remember that there are frequently con- 
 flicting duties, the relative claims of which it requires much 
 thought, and much of the Divine guidance, satisfactorily to 
 determine. Neither should he forget the apostolic declaration, 
 "If anv provide not for his own, and specially for those of his 
 C 2 
 
30 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 own house, instruction as well as food and raiment, he hath 
 denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." 
 
 The proper government and instruction of his family is a 
 Christian parent's first duly, and can never be superseded. A 
 conviction that this duty is imperative, and a recollection of the 
 injury he sustained from his father's hiattention to it, led Mr. 
 Drew, when iiis own children were growing up, to refuse any 
 appointment, as a preai^her, that would not leave him every 
 third Sabbath at liis entire disposal. 
 
 The evil which has occasioned these remarks we do not 
 charge on the Wesleyan system as a necessary consequence, 
 or a common defect. Yet it is a false movement to which tliis 
 part of the machinery of Methodism is liable, without the con- 
 stant vigilance of those to whom its direction is confided. 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 Samuel's temper in boyhood — Apprenticed to a shoemaker — Harsh usage 
 — Evil habits — Anecdotes and incidents — .'Absconds from his master's 
 service — Consequent hardships— Returns to his father's house. 
 
 . The happy art of securing the attachment of his children, 
 and governing them by affection, IMr. Drew's Hither appears 
 not to have possessed. He displayed more of paternal au- 
 thority than pnrrntiil love. To the latter, which was the most 
 prominent fcatuir in his mother's character, Samuel h.ad 
 always yielded ; to the former he was not sufficiently disposed 
 to submit. 'I'ho'.igh aircttionatc, tender-hearted, and gener- 
 ous, where a similar disposition wa.i manifested towards him, 
 he not unfreqnently bioke out into open rebellion against his 
 father's government. " His mind,"' says his sister, " always 
 seemed above control ; for, while my eldest brother and I 
 trembled at our faihcr's voit'C, he would deride our weakness ; 
 and more than once has said to us, 'You almost worship 
 father, as if he were a little deity.' " To this fearless tem- 
 per was added a vein of sarcasm unusual in one so youn^. 
 Grieved as his father often was at his wayward conduct, the 
 lively sallies of the child amused him ; and he observed one 
 day to his other children, "That boy, ungovernable as he is, 
 lias more sense than all of ns." 
 
 Not long after die death of his wife, Samuel's father had aa 
 
HIS APPilENTICESniP. 
 
 31 
 
 elderly widow, named Bate, as his housekeeper; in wiiicii ca- 
 pacity she served him faitiifully, and was very attentive to the 
 children. In tiie second year of his widowhood he married 
 iier ; and though, as a servant, tiie children and she were on 
 the most friendly terms, yet, into the station of mother and mis- 
 tress they seemed to think her an intruder. Jabez, the elder, 
 refused to address her by her new appellation ; and Samuel, 
 though she treated them all with the utmost kindness, con- 
 trived, in various ways, to show his spleen. About the time of 
 her marriage, some female acquaintances visiting her, Samuel 
 provided himself with a syringe and vessel of water secretly, 
 and having made a gimlet-hole through the partition of the 
 room, he discharged his artillery among the company at their 
 tea. This was more than his step-mother could brook. 
 Though kind, she was a woman of violent temper ; and this, 
 added to other annoyances which she had received from him, 
 led shortly to his removal from his father's house. 
 
 At the age of ten years and a half Samuel Drew was ap- 
 prenticed to a shoemaker named Baker, at Tregrehan mill, in 
 the parish of St. Blazey, and about three miles from St. Aus- 
 tell tov.'n. His term of apprenticeship was nine j'ears ; but he 
 did not remain till its expiration. The master's house was 
 delightfully situated, in a I'ertile valley adjoining the mansion 
 and grounds of the wealthy family of the Carlyons. It was, 
 however, too secluded a spot for business ; and a boy of uncul- 
 tivated mind has little taste for t!ie beautiful or tlie picturesque. 
 AVhen he was first aj^prenticed his father lived at Parr, in St. 
 Blazey ; but removing soon after to the tenement of Polpea, in 
 T3'wardreaili, the poor lad's intercourse with his relatives was 
 suspended, and he felt all the loneliness of his situ-.ition. 
 
 In the short narrative from which a quniation lias already 
 been made, Mr. Drew says, "Tvly new a!)0(lc at St. Blazey, 
 and new engagements, were far from being pleasing. To 
 any of the comforts and conveniences of life I was an entire 
 stranger; and by every member of the family was viewed as an 
 underling, come thiilicr to subserve their wishes, or obe)^ their 
 mandates. To his trade of shoemaker my master added that 
 of farmer. He had a few acres of ground under his care, and 
 was a sober, industrious mriii : hut, niil'.jriiniately for me, nearly 
 one-half of my time was taken i:p in ;i;;riv >iUnral pursuits. On 
 this account 1 made no proficiency in my business, and felt no 
 solicitude to rise above the farmers' boys with whom I daily 
 associated. While in this place I suffered many hard.'^hips. 
 When, after having been in the fields all day, I came home with 
 
32 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 cold feet, and damp and dirty stockings, if the oven had been 
 heated during the day I was permitted to throw my stockings 
 into it, that they might dry against the following morning ; but 
 frequently have I had to put tliem on in precisely the same 
 state in which I had left them the preceding evening. To 
 mend my stockings I had no one ; and frequently have I v/ept 
 at the holes which I could not conceal ; though, when fortunate 
 enough to procure a stocking-needle and some worsted, I have 
 drawn the outlines of the hole together, and made what I 
 thought a tolerable job. 
 
 " During my apprenticeship many bickerings and unplea- 
 sant occurrences took place. Some of these preyed with so 
 much severity on my mind, that several limes I had determined 
 to run away, and either enlist on board of a privateer or a 
 man-of-war. A kind and gracious Providence, however, in- 
 variably defeated my purpose, and threw unexpected obstacles 
 in the way, at the moment when my schemes were apparently 
 on the eve of accomplishment. 
 
 " In some part of my servhude a few numbers of the 
 Weekly Entertainer were brought to my master's house. This 
 little publication, which was then extensively circulated in the 
 West of England, contained many tales and anecdotes which 
 greatly interested me. Into the narratives of adventures con- 
 nected with the then American war I entered with all the zeal 
 of a partisan on the side of the Americans. The history of 
 Paul Jones, the Serapis, and the Bon Homme Richard, by fre- 
 quent reading, and daily dwelling upon them in the almost soli- 
 tary chamber of my thoughts, grew up into a lively image in 
 my fancy ; and I felt a strong desire to join myself to a pirate 
 ship ; but as I had no money, and scarcely any clothes, the 
 idea and scheme were vain. Besides these Entertainers, the 
 only book which I remember to have seen in the house was an 
 odd number of the History of England, about the time of th« 
 Comtnonwcaltli.* With the reading of this I was at first much 
 pleased ; but when, by frequent perusal, I had nearly learned it 
 by heart, it became monotonous, and was shortly afterward 
 thrown aside. With this I lost, not only a. disposition for read- 
 ing, but almost an ability to read. The clamour of my com- 
 panions and others engrossed nearly the whole of my atten- 
 tion, and, so far as my slender means would allow, carried me 
 onward towards the vortex of dissipation. 
 
 " One circumstance I must not omit to notice, during this 
 
 * There was a Bib'e in the liouse ; but to the reailing of this, because 
 it was enjoined upon liiin by liis master on SunJa^s, he seems to have 
 contracted a dislike. 
 
HAZARDOUS EXPLOIT. 
 
 33 
 
 period of my life, as it strikingly marks the superintending 
 providence of God. I was sent one day to a neighbouring 
 common, bordering on the sea-shore, to see that my master's 
 sheep were safe and together. Having discharged this duty, I 
 looked towards the sea, which I presume could not be less than 
 two hundred feet below me. I saw the sea-birds busily em- 
 ployed, providing for their young, flying about midway between 
 the sea and the elevation on which I stood, when I was seized 
 with a- strange resolution to descend the cliff, and make my 
 way to the place where they had built their nests. It was a 
 desperate and dangerous attempt; but I determined to perse- 
 vere. My danger increased at every step ; and at length I 
 found that a projecting rock prohibited my fartlier progress. I 
 then attempted to retreat; but found the task more ditli-ultand 
 hazardous than that I had already encountered. I was now 
 perched on a narrow ledge of rock, about a hundred feet below 
 the edge of the cliff, and nearly the same height above the 
 ocean. To turn myself round I found to be impossible : there 
 was no hand to help, no eye to pity, no voice to sooth. My 
 spirits began to fail. I saw nothing before me but inevitable 
 destruction, and dreaded the moment when I should be dashed 
 in pieces upon the rocks below. At length, by creeping back- 
 ward about one-eighth of an inch at a step, 1 reached a nook 
 where I was able to turn, and happily succeeded in escaping 
 the destruction which I had dreaded." 
 
 The hazards into wiiich his adventurous disposition often 
 led him are well remembered by one of the surviving com- 
 panions of his boyish days. " Though," says he, " I was 
 younger than long-legged Sam, as we used to call him, I fre- 
 quently went out with him ; and the horror I have felt at the 
 dangerous places in which he and some of the big boys used 
 to go has been often so great as to keep me from sleeping at 
 night. In all such exploits he was the leader. He seemed to 
 fear nothing, and care for nobody ; but he was a good-tempered 
 boy, and a favourite with us all." 
 
 The slirewdness and cunning which were shown in his early 
 childiiood were called into exercise during his apprenticeship. 
 His recollections of harsh treatment, and his being compelled 
 to menial offices, have less reference to his master than his 
 mistress. She was disposed to make him a " hewer of wood 
 and drawer of water ;" and as he knew remonstrance would 
 be unavailing, he hit upon a practical argument. It was re- 
 marked, after some time, that whenever Samuel was sent for 
 water against his inclination, some accident was sure to befall 
 the pitcher. There was, at all times, a plausible reason as- 
 
34 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DKEW. 
 
 signed, so as to avert punishment ; but the true cause began to 
 be suspected ; and his mistress at length judged it expedient to 
 issue a standing order, that he should never be sent for water 
 unless he evinced a perfect willingness to go. 
 
 In the state of moral debasement in which he describes him- 
 self to have been during his apprenticeship, it is not surprising 
 that he contracted many of the pernicious habits of those with 
 whom he mingled, or that some of the neighbouring gardens 
 and orchards were reported to have suffered from the looseness 
 of his morals. Though he generally managed to evade de- 
 tection and punishment, there is reason to believe, that, in 
 various instances, he was more indebted to adroitness than to 
 innocence. Having ventured one day, with no honest inten- 
 tion, into tlie Tregrehan grounds, he was detected, by the pro- 
 prietor, in ihe act of trespass. By a display of craftiness 
 and agility, he escaped instant punishment ; but the gentleman 
 immediately apprized the master, that, as the boy's depreda- 
 tions had become notorious, unless measures were taken to 
 restrain or remove him, lie, as a magistrate, should consider it 
 a duty to the public to commit him to the county jail ; — a threat 
 which was not executed, since Samuel very shortly removed 
 himself. 
 
 Smuggling, at the time of Mr. Drew's apprenticeship, was 
 more common in Cornwall than it is in the present da)'. Very 
 few esteemed it a breach of moral duty ; and to engage in it 
 was not considered dishonourable. The ingenuity frequently 
 displayed, in baflling pursuit, and evading detection, gained the 
 applause of the public, who regarded the officers of the rev- 
 enue as enemies of the common good. This was an occupa- 
 tion quite congenial with Samuel's adventurous spirit, and it 
 pleased his excited fancy after reading " Paul Jones." He 
 had formed an acquaintance with some persons who were in 
 the habit of assisting smugglers ; and, without his master's 
 knowledge or consent, was frequently absent on their noc- 
 turnal expeilition.3. It was while engaged in a smuggling or 
 poaching affair, not far from his master's house, that an inci- 
 dent occurred, which he frequently related, as having made a 
 very deep impression on his memory. 
 
 " There were several of us, boys and men, out about twelve 
 o'clock, on a bright moonlight night. What we were engaged 
 about I do not ( xacily remember. I think we were poaching ; 
 but it was something that would not bear investigation. The 
 party were in a fiehl, adjoining the road leading from my 
 master's to St. Austell, and I was stationed outside the hedge, 
 
SINGULAR ADVENTURE. 
 
 35 
 
 to watch, and give the alarm if any inlruder should appear. 
 Wliile thus occupied, I heard what appeared to be the sound 
 of a horse, approaching from the town, and 1 gave a signal. 
 My comi)anions paused, and came to the hedge where I was, 
 to see the passenger. They looked through the bushes, and I 
 drew myself close to the hedge, that I miglit not be observed. 
 The sound increased, and the supposed horseinari seemed 
 drawing near. The clatter of the hoofs became more and 
 more distinct. We all looked to see who and what it was ; 
 and I was seized with a strange, indefinable feeling of dread, 
 when, instead of a horse, there appeared coming towards us, 
 at an easy pace, but with tlie same sound which first caught 
 my ear, a creature about tlie lu ight of a large dog. It went 
 close by me ; and, as it passed, it turrifd i,j)oii me and my 
 companions huge fiery eyes, that struck terror to all our hearts. 
 The road where I stood branched ofl' in two diretnions, in one 
 of which there was a gate across. Towards this gate it 
 moved ; and, without any apparent obstruction, went on at its 
 regular trot, which we heard several mimiles after it had dis- 
 appeared. Whatever it was, it put an end to our occupation, 
 and we made the best of our way home. 
 
 " I have often endeavoun d, in later years, but without suc- 
 cess, to account, on natural principles, for wliat I then heard 
 and saw. As to the fact, I am sure there was no deception. 
 It was a night of unusual brightness, occasioned by a cloud- 
 less full moon. How many of us were together I do not know, 
 nor do I distinctly, at this time, recollect who the men were. 
 Matthew Pascoe, one of my intimate boyish acquaintances, was 
 of tlie party ; but he is dead, and so probably are the others. 
 The creature was unlike any animal I had then seen ; but, 
 from my present recollections, it had inuch ihe appearance of 
 a bear, with a dark .shaggy coat. Had it not been for the un- 
 earthly lustre of its eyes, and its passing tlirough the gate as 
 it did, there would be no reason to supjiose it any thing more 
 than an animal perhaps escaped from some menagerie. Tliat 
 it did pass through the gate, without pause or hesitation, I am 
 perfectly clear. Indeed, we all saw it, and saw tiiat the gate 
 was shut, from which we were not distant more tlian twenty 
 or thirty yards. The bars were too close to admit the passage 
 of an animal of half its apparent bulk; yet this creature went 
 through without effort or variation of its pace. Whenever I 
 have read the passage about the 'lubber fiend,' in Milton's 
 V Allegro, or heard the description given of the ' brownie,' 
 in the legends of other days, I have always identified these 
 
36 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUIX DRKW. 
 
 beings, real or imaginary, with what I on this occasion wit- 
 nessed. 
 
 " How such a being, if immaterial, could become an object 
 of sight, or how it could affect my organs of hearing, I do not 
 know ; and it is folly to attempt to account for a svper- 
 natural occurrence on the principles of natural science ; 
 for could we succeed, it would be no longer supernatural. If 
 it be inquired, for what purpose such a creature was sent, or 
 permiited to appear to us, I cannot undertake to answer. With 
 reference to myself, I might observe, that I was at this time 
 forming acquaintances and contracting habits of the most per- 
 nicious kind, such as, if persevered in, might have brought me 
 to an uniinitly and a disgraceful end. This night's adventure, 
 though it produced no radical change in my conduct, was not 
 forgotten. It prevented me, wliile I continued with my master, 
 from engaging in any further expeditions of the kind ; and it 
 was a means of withdrawing me from the company of those 
 who were leading me to ruin. In many circumstances of my 
 past life, I can distinguish the kind hand of God stretched out 
 to save me, as 'a brand plucked from the burning;' and this 
 appears to be one. Whether the same end might have been 
 effected by ordinary agency, is not for me to say. Probably 
 it might. But then other objects of greater importance in the 
 moral government of God might have remained unaccomplished; 
 
 " ' For man, who here seems principal alone. 
 
 Perhaps nets seconil to some sphere unknown, — 
 Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal : 
 'Tis but a [cirt we sec, and not the whole.' " 
 
 The preceding relation, marked as being Mr. Drew's words, 
 was made by him to the writer, a few years since, on the very 
 spot where the circumstance occurred. The narrative, and the 
 observations upon it, are given, as far as memory can be de- 
 j)en(lcd on, witiiout \ ari;ition of language; and, to ensure accu- 
 racy, iliey iiave been collated with the recollections of several 
 individuals who have; heard Mr. Drew's statement. His own 
 remarks siqierscdc any which we might be templed to offer 
 upon this singular occurrence. We live in an era of the world's 
 history in wliich the arcana of nature are daily laid open ; and 
 yet 
 
 "There are more things in heaven and earth 
 Than are dreamt of in our philosophy." 
 
 Although it is sufficiently apparent that Mr. D.'s conduct 
 
ABSCONDS FROM HIS MASTER. 
 
 37 
 
 was any thing but blameless, during his apprenticeship, yet he 
 was, to quote his own expression, " like a toad under a harrow ;" 
 and, amid the utter absence of that reciprocity of kindness and 
 good-will so necessary to improvement, it is not surprising that 
 he made little proficiency in his business He felt conscious, 
 at tiie outset, that his master and mistress wished to degrade 
 him by the most menial offices: his shoulders spurned the 
 yoke; and the indignities oflered him furnished a constant 
 source of dissatisfaction. 
 
 One of his youthful companions, who still survives him, 
 says, " I believe Sam was a difficult boy to manage ; but he 
 was made worse by the treatment he received. I was once in 
 the shop, when, for a very small olTence, his master struck him 
 very violently with a last, and maimed him for a time. Such 
 usage only made him stunij% and caused him to dislike his 
 master and his work." The result was, that, when about 
 seventeen, he absconded. The circumstances are thus related 
 by his sister. 
 
 " At the time my brother Samuel was an apprentice, my 
 father was chiefly employed in what was called riding Sher- 
 borne. There was scarcely a bookseller at that time in Corn- 
 wall ; and the only newspaper known among the commoa 
 people was the Sherborne Mercury, published weekly by 
 Goadby & Co., the same persons that issued the Weekly En- 
 tertainer. The papers were not sent by post, but by private 
 messengers, who were termed Sherborne men. My father was 
 one of these. Between Plymouth and Penzance there were 
 two stages on the main road, each about forty miles ; and there 
 were branch riders, in diflerent directions, who held a regular 
 communication with each other, and with the establishment in 
 Sherborne. Their business was to deliver liie newspapers, 
 Entertainers, and any books that had been ordered ; to collect 
 the money, and take fresh orders. Almost the whole county of 
 Cornwall was supplied with books and papers in this way. 
 My father's stage was from St. Austell to Plymouth. He 
 always set off on his journey early on Monday morning, and 
 returned on Wednesday. 
 
 " One Monday night, in the hay season, after my step-mother 
 and I were in bed, my father being absent on his journey, 
 we were awakened by my brother Samuel, who had then come 
 from his master's, in St. Blazey. He said to our step-mother, 
 ' I am going away, and want some money. Will you give me 
 some?' She inquired what he meant by 'going away,' and 
 whether he had then any money about him. His reply was, 
 
38 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 'I am going to run away. I have now sixteen pence halA 
 penny ; and if you will not give me more, I will go with that, 
 and never return to my master's house.' She felt herself in a 
 dilemma. To refuse appeared cruel ; and to comply with hia 
 request would be assisting him to do wrong. She therefore 
 told him that he must go to bed, and wait his father's return. 
 But his resolution was fixed ; for though we concluded he would 
 not execute his intcniions without further supplies, when morn- 
 ing came he was gone. Knowing his resolute temper, and 
 that he had more than once threatened to enter on board a man- 
 of-war, we were greatly alarmed, esj)eeially as my father was 
 absent, lest he should take some decisive step before any thing 
 could be done to prevent it. We sent messengers about the 
 neighbourhood, but could get no intelligence of him, until my 
 father returned. My brother's adventures, after leaving our 
 house, I have heard liim thus describe. 
 
 " When I came to Polpea, to ask for money, I had not fully 
 determined whither to go. I thought of travelling to Plymouth, 
 to seek a berth on board a king's ship. Instead, however, of 
 taking the sliort road, where I feared my father might fail in 
 with me, I went on towards Liskeard, through the night, and 
 feeling fatigued, went into a hay-field and slept. My luggage 
 was no encumbrance ; as the whole of my property, besides the 
 clothes I wore, was contained in a small handkerchief Not 
 knowing how long I should have to depend upon my slender 
 stock of cash, I found it necessary to use the most rigid 
 economy. Having to pass over eittier a ferry or toll-bridge, 
 for which I had to pay a halfpenny, feeling my present situation, 
 and knowing nothing of my future prospects, this small call upon 
 my funds distressed me. I wept as I went on my way ; and, even 
 to the present time, I feel a pang when I recollect the circum- 
 stance. The exertion of walking, and the fresh morning air, gare 
 me a keener appetite than I tliouglit it prudent to indulge. I, 
 however, bought a penny loaf at the first place I passed where 
 bread was sold, and, with a halfpenny worth of milk, in a 
 farmer's house, ate half of my loaf for breakfast. In passing 
 through Liskeard, my attention was attracted by a shoemaker's 
 shop, in the door of which a respectable looking man, whom I 
 supposed to be the master, was standing. Witiiout any in- 
 tention of seeking employment in this place, I asked him if he 
 could give me work ; and he, taking compassion, I suppose, on 
 my sorry appearance, promised to employ me next morning. 
 Before I could go to work, tools were necessary ; and I was 
 obliged to lay out a shilling on these. Dinner, under such cir- 
 
Hardships scstained. 
 
 39 
 
 cumstances, was out of the question : for supper I bought 
 another halfpenny worth of milk, ate the remainder of my loaf, 
 and, for a lodging, again had recourse to the fields. The next 
 morning I purchased another penny loaf, and resumed my 
 labour. My employer soon found that I was a miserable tool ; 
 yet lie treated me kindly ; and his son took me beside him in 
 the shop, and gave me instruetion. I had now but one penny 
 left ; and this I wisiied to husband till my labour brought a 
 supply : so for dinner I tied my apron-string tighter, and went 
 on with my work. My abstinence subjected me to the jeers of 
 my shopmates ; thus rendering the pangs of hunger doubly 
 bitter. One of them, I remember, said to another, ' Where 
 does our shopmate dine?' and the response was, 'Oh! he 
 always dities at the sign of the mouth.' Half of the penny 
 loaf which I took with me in the morning I had allotted for 
 my supper ; but before tiight came, I had pinched it nearly all 
 away in mouihfuls, through mere hunger. Very reluctantly I 
 laid out my last penny, and, with no enviable feelings, sought 
 my former lodging in the open air. With no other breakfast 
 than the fragments of my last loaf, 1 again sat down to work. 
 At dinner time, looking, no doubt, very much famished, my 
 master kindly said, ' If you wish, I will let yon have a little 
 money, on account,' — an offer which I very joyfully accepted. 
 This was, however, my last day's employment here. Dis- 
 covering that I was a runaway apprentice, my new master dis- 
 missed me, with a recommendation to return to the old one ; 
 and while he was talking my brother came to the door, with a 
 horse, to take me home." 
 
 Samuel's place of abode was ascertained by his friends 
 through what would ordinarily be termed mere accident. As 
 his father passed a toll-gate, on his return from Plymouth, the 
 name " Drew," uttered by a person in conversation with the 
 gate-keeper, caught his ear. He knew nothing then of his 
 son's absence ; but few persons in the neighbourhood being so 
 called, he was led to make some inquiry of the speaker, who 
 informed him that a young shoemaker named Drew was then 
 working in Liskeard. When, on arriving home, he learned 
 that Samuel was gone, he immediately identified him with the 
 " young shoemaker," and despatched his eldest son Jabez in 
 pursuit. 
 
 Upon receiving a positive assurance that he was not to go 
 back to his former master, Samuel rettirned with his brotiier to 
 his i'"ather's house at Polpea. Compensation being made his 
 master, his indenture was cancelled, and he remained at Polpea 
 
40 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 about four months, either working at his business or assisting 
 his father and brother on the farm. 
 
 Tlie guiding and overruHng hand of Providence in the events 
 of his early life Mr. Drew, in after-years, was accustomed to 
 trace with feehngs of grateful adoration. To his children, and 
 those with whom he was in the habit of familiar intercourse, he 
 would point out, as connected with the period we have been 
 describing, and in his more mature years, occasions which future 
 destiny quivered in the beam, and apparently trivial circum- 
 stances were the means of rescuing him from destruction, and 
 opening before him a more honourable career. He would thus 
 lead them to reflect on the moral government of God, and His 
 watchful guardianship, as extending even to the " unjust" and 
 "unthankful;" showing them, that however we may be per- 
 mitted to follow the " devices and desires of our hearts," He does 
 not cease, though by methods unperceived, to direct, to in- 
 fluence, or to restrain ; and that 
 
 " There is a Providence that shapes our ends, 
 Rough-hew them as we will." 
 
 May not this Divine direction be traced in the circumstances 
 which mark his flight to Liskeard ? If, instead of pausing there, 
 he had followed up his intention of going to Plymouth, the state 
 of his finances would, in all probability, have led him to enter 
 the king's service before his friends could have interfered. It 
 was then a lime of war ; and had he taken his intended step, 
 it is not likely that he would have become a subject for 
 the biographer. The hardships he endured taught him an im- 
 portant lesson. He found that the romance of life which his 
 imagination had depicted was sorrowfully contrasted by its 
 reality ; that the evils over which he had brooded, while an ap- 
 prentice, were inferior to those to which he had voluntarily 
 exposed himself ; and that the freedom for which he had 
 sighed was more burdensome than his chains. 
 
 Under the protection of his father's roof the subject of this 
 memoir may, for a season, remain, while the rea:der's attention 
 is directed to his immediate relatives. 
 
HIS brother's character. 
 
 41 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 His brother's character — Family anecdotes — His sister's strong affection 
 for him — Her remarkable deliverance from danger. 
 
 PoLPEA, the residence of Samuel's father, was at this time a 
 spot of remarkable beauty. Its acres, though few, were fertile ; 
 and tlie humble dwelling was half-hidden by a productive 
 orchard. Situated in a sheltered recess, at the north-eastern 
 extremity of a spacious bay, to which the parish of St. Austell 
 (whose shores it chiefly washes) has given a name ; com- 
 manding a view of the little fishing village of Parr, since fallen 
 into decay, but again rising into importance as a harbour ; few 
 spots in Cornwall exceeded it for picturesque scenery and 
 quiet loveliness. By unremitting industry and tlie good manage- 
 ment of his wife, the father had freed himself from the difficul- 
 ties with which, in early life, he had to struggle ; and, though 
 not exempt from the necessity of daily labour, he was now 
 placed, by a kind Providence, above the pressure of want. In 
 the concerns of his farm he was assisted by his elder son 
 Jabez, whose disposition presented a remarkable contrast to 
 that of his brother. While Samuel, by his daring and adven- 
 turous spirit, was often running into danger, and causing his 
 parent much anxiety, Jabez exhibited so much fondness for 
 reading and study, that his father sometimes found it necessary 
 to chide him for indulging in these employments, to the neglect 
 of his ordinary occupations. Every leisure hour, and fre- 
 quently hours which should have been allotted to repose, he 
 devoted to such literary pursuits as his circumstances enabled 
 him to follow. The Weekly Entertainer, which has already 
 been mentioned as a means of stimulating persons in humble 
 life to mental exercise, consisted partly of questions proposed, 
 and replies given, on various subjects, by correspondents. 
 Enigmas, mathematical queries, and metrical compositions 
 also found place in the publication ; and in each of these de- 
 partments Jabez Drew was a regular and an acceptable con- 
 tributor. He also wrote many poetical pieces, which never 
 appeared in print. His sister says, " I remember having seen 
 DSJ 
 
40 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 about four months, either working at his business or assisting 
 his father and brother on the farm. 
 
 The guiding and overruling hand of Providence in the events 
 of his early life Mr. Drew, in after-years, was accustomed to 
 trace with feelings of grateful adoration. To his children, and 
 those with whom he was in the habit of familiar intercourse, he 
 would point out, as connected with the period we have been 
 describing, and in his more mature years, occasions which future 
 destiny quivered in the beam, and apparently trivial circum- 
 stances were the means of rescuing him from destruction, and 
 opening Ijcfore him a more honourable career. He would thus 
 lead them to rellect on the moral government of God, and His 
 watcliful guardianship, as extending even to the " unjust" and 
 "unthankful;" showing them, that however we may be per- 
 mitted to follow the " devices and desires of omt hearts," He does 
 not cease, though by methods unperceived, to direct, to in- 
 fluence, or to restrain ; and that 
 
 " There is a Providence that shapes our ends, 
 Rough-hew them as we will." 
 
 May not this Divine direction be traced in the circumstances 
 which mark his flight to Liskeard ? If, instead of pausing there, 
 he had followed up his intention of going to Plymouth, the state 
 of his finances would, in all probability, have led him to enter 
 the king's service before his friends could have interfered. It 
 was then a time of war ; and had he taken his intended step, 
 it is not likely that he would have become a subject for 
 the biographer. The hardships he endured taught him an im- 
 portant lesson. He found that the romance of life which his 
 imagination had depicted was sorrowfully contrasted by its 
 reality; that the evils over which he had brooded, while an ap- 
 prentice, were inferior to those to which he had voluntarily 
 exposed himself; and that the freedom for which he had 
 sighed was inore burdensome than his chains. 
 
 Under the protection of his father's roof the subject of this 
 memoir may, for a season, remain, while the reader's attention 
 is directed to his immediate relatives. 
 
HIS brother's character. 
 
 41 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 His brother's character — Family anecdotes — His sister's strong affection 
 for him — Her remarkable deliverance from danger. 
 
 PoLPEA, the residence of Samuel's father, was at this time a 
 spot of remarkable beauty. Its acres, though few, were fertile ; 
 and the humble dwelling was half-hidden by a productive 
 orchard. Situated in a sheltered recess, at the north-eastern 
 extremity of a spacious bay, to which the parish of St. Austell 
 (whose shores it chiefly washes) has given a name ; com- 
 manding a view of the little fi.shing village of Parr, since fallen 
 into decay, but again rising into importance as a harbour ; few 
 spots in Cornwall exceeded it for picturesque scenery and 
 quiet loveliness. By iniremitiing industry and the good manage- 
 ment of his wife, the father had freed himself from the difficul- 
 ties with which, in early life, he had to st-ruggle ; and, though 
 not exempt from the necessity of daily labour, he was now 
 placed, by a kind Providence, above the pressure of want. In 
 the concerns of his farm he was assisted by his elder son 
 Jabez, who.se disposition presented a remarkable contrast to 
 that of his brother. While Samuel, by his daring and adven- 
 turous spirit, was often running into danger, and causing his 
 parent much anxiety, Jabez exhibited so much fondness for 
 reading and study, that his father sometimes found it necessary 
 to chide him for indulging in these employments, to the neglect 
 of his ordinary occupations. Every leisure hour, and fre- 
 quently hours which should have been allotted to repose, he 
 devoted to such literary pursuits as his circumstances enabled 
 him to follow. The Weekly Entertainer, which has already 
 been mentioned as a means of stimulating persons in humble 
 life to mental exercise, consisted partly of questions proposed, 
 and replies given, on various subjects, by correspondents. 
 Enigmas, mathematical queries, and metrical compositions 
 also found place in the publication ; and in each of these de- 
 partments Jabez Drew was a regular and an acceptable con- 
 tributor. He also wrote many poetical pieces, which never 
 appeared in print. His sister says, " I remember having seen 
 D 3 
 
42 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 in my eldest brother's room a great many books, of which I 
 then knew not the use ; and lie was a frequent and welcome 
 visiter at the house of a gentleman who kept a boarding-school 
 not far from us ; where he often remained till past midnight, 
 induli^ing his iliirst for knowledge." By many of the respect- 
 able iiihabiuuits of thai neiglibourliood he was known, and 
 liiglily esteemed, as a young man of attainments beyond his 
 station. In a subsequent page, it will be seen that his death 
 was a prime cause of his brother Samuel's conversion. 
 
 It has been already stated that the father's time was partly 
 occupied in conveying the Sherborne newspapers, and other 
 publications sent into Cornwall by that establishment. He 
 was also a contractor for carrying the mail between St. Austell 
 and Bodmin. In this the eldest son was commonly employed, 
 and Samuel, during his temporary residence with his father, 
 occasionally rendered his assistance. Once, while he was an 
 apprentice, his brother being ill, he was called on to perform the 
 duty. His adventure, on that occasion, he thus related to a 
 friend. 
 
 " At one time, in the depth of winter, I was borrowed to 
 supply my brother's place in carrying the mail ; and I had to 
 travel in the darkness of night, through frost and snow, a dreary 
 journey, out and home, of more than twenty miles. Being 
 overj)Ovvered with fatigue, I fell asleep on tlie horse's neck, 
 and when I awoke, discovered that I had lost my hat. The 
 wind was keen and piercing, and I was bitterly cold. I stopped 
 the horse, and endeavoured to find out where I was : but it was 
 so dark tliat I could scarcely distinguish the hedges on each 
 side of the road ; and 1 had no means of ascertaining how long 
 I had been asleep, or how far I had travelled. I then dis- 
 mounted, and looked around for my hat ; but seeing nothing of 
 it, 1 turned back, leading the horse, determined to find it, if 
 possible ; for the loss of a hat was to me a matter of serious 
 consequence ; and my anxiety was increased by the considera- 
 tion, that if it were not recovered, I should probably have to 
 wait a long while for another. Shivering with cold, I pursued 
 my solitary way, scrutinizing the road at every step, until I 
 had walked about two miles, and was on the point of giving up 
 the search, when I came to a receiving house, where 1 ought 
 to have delivered a packet of letters, but had passed it when 
 asleep. To this place the post usually came about one o'clock 
 in the morning, and it was customary to leave a window un- 
 fastened, except by a large stone outside, that the family might 
 sot be disturbed at so unseasonable an hour. I immediately 
 
FAMILY ANECDOTES. 
 
 43 
 
 put my letter-bag through the window, and having replaced the 
 stone, was turning round to my horse, when I perceived my 
 hat lying close to my feet. I suppose that the horse, knowing 
 the place, must have stopped at the window for me to deliver 
 my charge ; but having waited until his patience was ex- 
 hausted, had pursued his way to the next place. My hat must 
 have been shaken off by his impatient movements, or en- 
 deavours to awaken me ; but how long he waited I cannot tell. 
 Though blind, that horse had more sense, and needed less 
 guidance, tiian any one I ever rode." 
 
 By all the family this sagacious and valuable animal was 
 much prized ; but Samuel's father felt for it an especial re- 
 gard, and the attachment between tlie master and his faithful 
 servant was to all appearance mutual. Many years before, 
 the poor beast, in a wretched condition, from starvation and ill 
 usage, was turned out on a common to die. The owner wil- 
 lingly sold it for little more than the value of the skin ; and his 
 new possessor, having, by care and kindness, restored it to 
 strength, soon found tliat he had made a most advantageous 
 bargain. For more than twenty years, he and his blind com- 
 panion travelled the road together ; and many were the proofs 
 of its intelligence and attachment. After the horse was past 
 labour, it was kept in the orchard, and attended with almost 
 parental care. Latterly it had become unable to bite the grass ; 
 and the old man regularly fed it with bread soaked in milk. " I 
 remember," says the present survivor of the family, " that 
 when the sagacious creature would, early in the morning, put 
 his head over the orchard railing, towards his master's bed- 
 room, and give its usual neigh, my father would jump out of 
 bed, open the window, and call to the horse, saying, ' My poor 
 old fellow, I will be with thee soon.' And when the animal 
 died, he would not allow its skin or shoes to be taken off ; but 
 had the carcass buried entire." 
 
 The road by which the old Mr. Drew was accustomed to 
 travel, to and from Plymouth, passed along a very dangerous 
 place, known by the name of Baltern Cliffs ; where, for about 
 half a mile, a few false steps might cause tiie traveller to be 
 dashed in pieces on the rocks, or plunge him, from a dizzy 
 height, into the surges of the foaming ocean. Here, on his 
 return from Plymouth, he was once assaulted by two horse- 
 men, who commanded him to deliver his money. His horse 
 being heavily laden, escape was hopeless ; yet he resisted 
 their demand. Upon this one of the men presented a pistol, 
 threatening to shoot and throw him over the clifi'; and both of 
 
44 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 them, laying hold of him, attempted to execute the latter part 
 of the threat. He called for help ; and the sound of approach- 
 ing horses caused the robbers, before they had executed tlieir 
 intention, to gallop off by a cross-road. Presenily two young 
 men, who had heard his cry, came up, and learning how he 
 had been attacked, urged him, by way of mutual protection, to 
 turn and accompany them to Plymouth. This he declined, 
 being not far from Looe, his usual resting-place. His horse, 
 however, was missing ; and he feared that, being blind, it 
 might have fallen over the cliff, during the scuffle with his as- 
 sailants. He sought for it for some time in vain ; when, call- 
 ing it loudly by name, he was answered by its welcome neigh, 
 and following the sound, found the careful animal securely- 
 lodged in a recess of the road, whither it had instinctively re- 
 treated.* 
 
 * After the good man had been thus in jeopardy, he, at the recommend- 
 ation of his family, procured a Newfoundland dog, to be the companion 
 of his journeys ; for arms he would not carry. Of this dog, and a smaller 
 one that had been bred in the house, Mr. Drew used to relate the following 
 singular story. The circumstance occurred while he was thus living at 
 Polpea, and was witnessed by himself. 
 
 " Our dairy was under a room which was used occasionally as a bam 
 and apple-chamber, into which the fowls sometimes found their way, 
 and, in scratching among the chaff, scattered the dust on the pans of milk 
 below, to the great annoyance of my step-mother. In this, a favourite 
 cock of hers was the chief transgressor. One day, in harvest, she went 
 into the dairy, followed by the little dog ; and finding dust again thrown 
 on her milk-pans, she exclaimed, ' I wish that cock were dead.' Not 
 long after, she being with us in the harvest-field, we observed the little 
 dog dragging along the cock, just killed, which, with an air of triumph, 
 he laid at my step-mother's feet. She was dreadfully exasperated at the 
 literal fulfilment of her hastily uttered wish, and, snatching a stick from the 
 hedge, attempted to give the luckless dog a beating. The dog, seeing 
 the reception he was likely to meet with, where he expected marks of ap- 
 probation, left the bird, and ran off; she brandishing her stick, and 
 saying, in a loud, angry tone, ' I'll pay thee for this by-and-by.' In the 
 evening, she was about to put her threat into execution, when she found 
 the little dog established in a corner of the room, and the large one 
 standing before it. Endeavouring to fulfil her intention, by first (driving 
 off the large dog, he gave her plainly to understand that he was not at all 
 disposed to relinquish his post. She then sought to get at the small dog 
 behind the other ; but the threatening gesture and fiercer growl of the 
 large one sufficiently indicated that the attempt would be not a little peril- 
 ous. The result was, that she was obliged to abandon her design. In 
 killing the cock, I can scarcely think that the dog understood the precise 
 import of my step-mother's wish, as his immediate execution of it would 
 seem to imply. The cock was a more recent favourite, and had received 
 some attentions which had previously been bestowed upon himself. 
 This, I think, had led him to entertain a feeling of hostility to the bird, 
 
HIS sister's attachment. 
 
 45 
 
 Between Samuel and his sister there was, from an early 
 date, a very strong attachment, which, instead of diminishing 
 as tiiey advanced to maturity, and when their distinct con- 
 nections caused a separation of interests, 
 
 " Grew with their growth, and strengthen'd willi their strength." 
 
 With him almost the last object of his solicitude was the wel- 
 fare of that " dear woman who had borne with him the burden 
 and heat of the day ;" and her earliest anxiety appears to have 
 been for the happiness of him whom she used to call " her dear 
 Sammy." Young as she w:is, at the period we now record, 
 not fourteen years of age, slie fell most acutely on his account; 
 and knowing him to be a rude and thoughtless boy, who was 
 prone to make a jest of serious things, she often prayed that 
 God would save her brother Samuel. " One night," she 
 observes, " I was thinking about him in bed, and praying for 
 him, when I fell asleep, and my young mind received great 
 comfort from a dream. 1 thought I was in the garden with my 
 brother, mourning over his state. Wiiilein this situation some 
 one informed me that Samuel must lay himself down by the 
 hedge, and if I saw tiie sun shine on him, he would be saved. 
 He lay down, as I thought, and remained a long time enveloped 
 in shade. At length, the sun shone upon him in its briglitness, 
 and caused me to rejoice with exceeding joy." She felt 
 assured, from this time, that he would not "taste the bitter 
 pains of eternal death ;" and though some years elapsed before 
 her brother experienced a change of heart, he eventually 
 became her most valued preceptor in the ways of right- 
 eousness. 
 
 Of this beloved relative little can be said ; for where praise 
 would give pain, truth must remain silent. We cannot, how- 
 ever, refrain from noticing that, besides their natural affection, 
 there existed between Mr. Drew and herself a true congeniality 
 of sentiment. Possessed of a disciplined understanding, retined 
 sensibilities, and unaffected piety, she was the constant object 
 of her brother's affection ; and he seldom indulged in the 
 
 which he did not presume to indulge, until my mother's tone and manner 
 indic.ited that the cock was no longer under her protection. In the power 
 of communicating with each other, which these dogs evidently possessed, 
 and which, in some instances, has been displayed by other species of 
 animals, a faculty seems to be developed, of which we know very little. — 
 On the whole, I never remember to have met with a case in which, to 
 human appearance, there was a nearer approach to moral perception 
 than in that of my father's two dogs." 
 
46 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 remembrance of his sister, but he concluded by repeating with 
 much feeling, 
 
 " Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air." 
 
 The reader will wish no apology for the insertion of the 
 following remarkable deliverance from danger, of which she 
 was the suhjecit. 
 
 " I think," she relates, "it was some time in the month of 
 November, 1796, wlien I was about twenty-five years of age, 
 that I met with the following occurrence. 1 had been at St. 
 Austell, and was returniiig lo my father's house, about five 
 o'clock in the evening. To shorten my journey, the weather 
 being cold and l)()isu reus, I crossed a river near the sea, and 
 travelled over a sandy beach. This was the usual route when 
 the tide permitted ; but at its farther extremity I had to pass 
 under a clifl^, which, at high water, the influx of the waves ren- 
 ders dangerous, and sometimes impracti(;able. On approach- 
 ing this place, I found that the tide had advanced farther than 
 I had aiuicipated ; yet thinking myself safe, being withm half 
 a mile of my home, I entered the water without any apprehen- 
 sion ; hut I had not proceeded far before I found it much deeper 
 than I expected. 
 
 " Having discovered my error, the cliff being on my left- 
 hand, and the turbulent sea on my right, I endeavoured to turn 
 my horse and retreat ; but in doing this the poor animal fell 
 over a projecting rock. By this fall I was thrown from him 
 on the side next the sea, and in an instant was buried in the 
 waves. I, however, retained my senses, and aware of my dan- 
 ger, held fast by tlie horse, which, after some struggling, drew 
 me safely on the beach. 
 
 " But although 1 had tiuis far escaped the violence of the 
 surf, my situation was dreadfully insecure. I now found 
 myself liemmed in between two projecting points, with scarcely 
 the possibility of getting around either. The tide was also 
 encroaching rapidly on me, and the clifl" it was impossible to 
 scale. The wind, M'hich had been blowing in an angry man- 
 ner, now increas( (] its hny. Thimder began to roll, and the 
 vivid lightning, gleaming on the surface of the water, just inter- 
 rupted the surrounding darkness, to show me the horror of my 
 situation. This was accompanied with tremendous showers 
 of hail, from the violence of which I could find no shelter. 
 Thus circumstanced 1 made a desperate effort to remount my 
 horse, resolving to pass one of the projecting points, as my only 
 
REMARKABLE DELIVKRANCE. 
 
 47 
 
 chance of safety, or perish in the attempt ; but all my efforts 
 proved unsuccessful, and to this inability it is probable that I 
 owe my life. 
 
 " The tide gaining fast upon me, the poor animal instinct- 
 ively mounted a rock ; and I wiih difficulty followed the exam- 
 ple. In this forlorn condition, 1 again made another ineffectual 
 eflbrt to remount, without duly considering the inevitable 
 destruction that awaited me, in case I had succeeded. 
 
 " The waves, urged on by the tempest, to the whole rigour 
 of which I stood exposed, soon told me that my retreat was 
 unsafe. The rock on which myself and horse siood was soon 
 covered with the rising tide, and at times we were so nearly 
 overwhelmed that I could literally say, ' Thy waves and thy 
 billows are gone over me.' Surrounded thus by water, my 
 horse made another desperate effort, and happily gained a still 
 more elevated crag. I followed, but with considerable diffi- 
 culty ; and as all further ascent appeared impracticable, in this 
 place I expected to meet my fate. 
 
 " Under this impression, with 'but a step between me and 
 death,' 1 began seriously to reflect on the solemnities and near 
 approach of eternity, into which, perhaps, a few minutes might 
 hurry my disembodied spirit. In these awful moments I can 
 truly say, ' I cried, by reason of mine affliction, unto the Lord, 
 and he heard me.' In the midst of the waters I knelt on a 
 rock, and commended my soul to Him who hath all power in 
 heaven and earth, well knowing that he was able to say to the 
 turbulent ocean, ' Hitherto shalt thou come, but no farther, and 
 here shall thy proud waves be stayed.' At one time I felt a 
 gleam of hope ; but this was speedily destroyed by the increas- 
 ing waters, which, still gaining upon us, convinced me that the 
 tide had not yet reached its height. 
 
 "Conceiving my own deliverance to be scarcely possible, I 
 felt anxious for the escape of my horse, and with this view 
 endeavoured to disencumber him of the bridle and saddle, that, 
 in attempting to swim, he might tind no iinpediment to pre- 
 vent his reaching the shore. But while I was thus engaged, 
 to my utter astonishment, by a violent exertion, the horse par- 
 tially ascended another crag, so as to keep his head above the 
 water. I was not long in attempting a similar effort, in which 
 I happily succeeded. This, however, was our last retreat ; 
 for just over my head projected a large shelving rock, above 
 wliich it was impossible to ascend. Here I sat down, with a 
 mind somewhat composed, to wait the event. 
 
 " After remaining in this situation for some time, I began to 
 
48 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 hope that the tide had reached its height ; and in this I was 
 at length confirmed by the Hght of the rising moon, which, 
 gleaming on the rocks, showed, to my inexpressible joy, that 
 the water had actually begun to subside. I was now con- 
 vinced, that if we could retain our position until the water had 
 retired, and I could survive the cold, we migiit both be pre- 
 served ; but this was exceedingly doubtful. The posture in 
 which my horse stood was nearly perpendicular ; and I waa 
 cherished by the warmth which proceeded from his breath, as 
 I kept his head near my bosom, and derived from it a benefit 
 which experience only can explain. 
 
 " As the tide retired, and the moon rose, I discovered, by its 
 increasing liaht, to what a fearful lieight we had ascended ; and 
 that to descend in safety was not less difficult than the means 
 of getting up iiad been extraordinary. Tiiis, however, was at 
 last effected without any material accident. On reaching the 
 beach, from which the waves had now retired, I endeavoured 
 to walk towards my home, but found myself so benumbed that 
 I was unable ; and my voice was so nearly gone that 1 could 
 not call for help, although I was not far from my father's 
 house, and near many kind neighbours, who would have risked 
 their lives to render me assistance, if they had known of my 
 situation. 
 
 " Being unable to proceed, I seated myself upon a rock, 
 and expected, from the intense cold, that I must perish, 
 although I had escaped the fury of the tempest, and the drench- 
 ing of the waves. How long I remained there I cannot say 
 with certainty, but when almost reduced to a state of insensi- 
 bility, I was providentially discovered in this position by my 
 father's servant, who had been sent out to search for me ; as, 
 from tiie lateness of the hour, the family had anticipated some 
 misfortune, and become alarmed. 
 
 " I had been in the water about three or four hours, and ex- 
 posed to the disasters of the tempest from about five in the 
 evening to half-past eleven at night. I then reached my com- 
 fortable dwelling much exhausted, but to the great joy of my 
 affectionate parent, who, I doubt not, had been offering up pe- 
 titions in my behalf to Him who hears the prayers that are 
 presented to him in sincerity. 
 
 " For this preservation I desire to thank my God ; but my 
 words are poor, and insufficient for this purpose. May all my 
 actions praise him, and may my lengthened life be devoted to 
 his glory !" 
 
HE WORKS AT MILLBUOOK. 
 
 49 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 
 Samuel is employed in the neighbourhood of Plymouth — His character 
 at that time — Perilous smuggling adventure. 
 
 Having remaiiic<i with his father's family from about mid- 
 summer, 1782, until the autumn of the same year, a situation 
 was found for Samuel at Millbrook, on the Cornish side of tlie 
 estuary of the Tamar. To this place he was accompanied by 
 his father, who, fearing he might still be disposed to indulge 
 his love of adventure, recommended him to the especial charge 
 of his employer, a respectable man, named Williams. 
 
 The harbour of Hamoaze exhibited all the bustle incident to a 
 great naval station in time of war. Of this, Millbrook, near which 
 the king's brewery at South Down is situated, partook. These 
 things had great charms for Samuel. Besides the novelty of the 
 scene, it was exactly adapted to gratify his active and enterpris- 
 ing disposition. He was placed, too, in a shop where there were 
 many persons employed, and where business was done in a 
 more skilful manner, and upon a more extensive scale, than 
 he had before witnessed. He therefore went willingly to 
 work, and in the intervals sougiit for information respecting 
 surrounding objects. Being now cast upon his own resources, 
 he was compelled to exercise industry and economy. He used 
 10 describe himself as " a wretched tool at the trade," unable, 
 in ordinary hours, to earn more than eight shillings a week. 
 On one occasion, when, in consequence of an extraordinary 
 pressure of business, the men had worked many hours a day, 
 and the master paid him half a guinea at tiie week's end, he 
 was perfectly astounded. " It was," he said, " a coin I had 
 never handled, and a sum so mucii greater than I had ever 
 possessed that I scarcely knew how to bestow it." Of his- 
 domestic economy, at this first entrance upon life, he used fre- 
 quently to quote instances in later years, for the amusement 
 and instruction of his apprentices, servants, and children ; 
 telling them, that Liskeard was not the only place where he 
 had tied his apron-string tighter for a dinner." 
 
 Thrown into collision with many shop-mates, and subject to 
 their jokes, on account of his uncouth appearance, and igno- 
 E 
 
60 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 ranee of business, his faculties were roused in self-defence; 
 and in a little time he displayed such quickness at repartee 
 as to gain him the general respect of his comrades, few of 
 whom, dreading his wit, chose to be his assailants. His argu- 
 mentative powers, too, were now beginning to develop them- 
 selves, upon such matters as were likely to engage the atten- 
 tion of uneducated mechanics. " I very well remember," says 
 a person who was then an apprentice in the same stiop, " that 
 in our disputes, those who could get Sam Drew on their side 
 always made sure of victory ; and lie had so much good-humour 
 and drollery that we all liked him, and were very sorry when 
 he went away." 
 
 After having been about a year in Millbrook, work became 
 scanty, and he, with some others, was discharged. He then 
 obtained employment in the adjoining town of Kingsaiid and 
 Cawsand. How long he remained in this place is uncertain ; 
 but while here, he was accustomed to engage in other than 
 intellectual contests. A small silver horse, won by him as the 
 prize of victory in cudgel-playing, was kept as a trophy, until, 
 from his altered views of such matters, he became ashamed of 
 its exhibition. We may mention, too, incidentally, that he 
 was an excellent swimmer; an art which one of his juvenile 
 companions says he acquired while an apprentice, by making 
 voyages on a mill-pond in a long washing tub, or tray, which 
 frequently upset. 
 
 His next residence was at Crafthole, a village about six 
 miles west of his late abode, and contiguous to the noted smug- 
 gling spot. Port Wrinkle. Here he very nearly terminated his 
 life and adventures. 
 
 We have seen that, during his apprenlii'eship, he more than 
 once joined parlies who were engaged in smuggling transac- 
 tions, and that no dishonour was attached to the occupation. 
 In Kingsand and Cawsand it was, to a great extent, the secret 
 business of tlie place ; and from his propensity to engage in 
 any ex|)loit, it is very probable that while resident there, he felt 
 no reluctance to lend his assistance when called upon. Such 
 services, too, were liberally compensated, in consideration of 
 the risk and personal exposure ; and this was im trifling in- 
 ducement to a youth who had to maintain himself upon "eight 
 shillings a week." The same natural disposition, and prospect 
 of reward, rendered him equally willing to take part in such 
 affairs in his new place of abode, where also the few inhabit- 
 ants depended chiefly upon smuggling for their subsistence. 
 
 Port Wrinkle, which Crafthole adjoins, lies about the middle 
 
SMUGGLING ADVENTURE. 
 
 51 
 
 of the very extensive bay reaching from Looe Island to the 
 Rame Head. It is little more than a fissure among the rocks 
 which gnard the long line of coast ; and being exposed lo the 
 uncontrolled violence of the prevailing winds, atlurds a very 
 precarious shelter. Notice was given throughout Cralthole, 
 one evening, about the month of December, 1784, that a vessel, 
 laden with contraband goods, was on the coast, and would be 
 ready that night to discharge her cargo. At nightfall, Samuel 
 Drew, with the rest of the male population, made towards the 
 port. One party remained on the rocks to make signals, and 
 dispose of the goods when landed ; the other, of which he was 
 one, manned the boats. The night was intensely dark ; and 
 but little progress had been made in discharging the vessel's 
 cargo, when the wind rose, with a heavy sea. To prevent 
 their vessel from being driven on the rocks, the seamen found 
 it necessary to stand off from the port, and thus increased the 
 hazard of the boatmen. Unfavourable as these circumstances 
 were, all seemed resolved to persevere ; and several trips were 
 made between the vessel and the shore. The wind continuing 
 to increase, one of the men belonging to the boat in which 
 Samuel sat had his hat blown off, and in striving to recover it, 
 upset the boat, and three of the men were immediately drowned. 
 Samuel and two or three others clung to the boat for a consid- 
 erable time ; but finding that it was drifting from the port, they 
 were obliged to abandon it, and sustain themselves by swim- 
 ming. They were now about two miles from the shore, and 
 the darkness prevented them from ascertaining its direction. 
 Samuel had given himself up as lost, when he laid hold of a 
 mass of floating sea-weed, which afforded him a temporary sup- 
 port. At length he approached some rocks near the shore, 
 upon which he and two of the men, the only survivors of seven, 
 succeeded in getting ; but they were so benumbed with cold, 
 and so much exhausted with their exertion in swimming, that it 
 was with the utmost difficulty they could maintain their posi- 
 tion against the force of the sea which sometimes broke ove» 
 them. Their perilous situation was not unperceived by their 
 comrades; yet their calls for help, if heard, were for a long 
 time disregarded. AVhen the vessel had delivered her cargo, 
 and put to sea, a boat was despatched to take them off; and 
 now, finding in what condition Samuel and his wretched com- 
 panions were, aftei^ having been three hours in the water, and 
 half of that time swimming about, the others endeavoured to 
 compensate, by a show of kindness, for their previous inhu- 
 manity. Life being nearly extinct, the sufferers were carried 
 
52 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DBEW. 
 
 to a neighbouring farm-house, and the inmates compelled by 
 threats to admit them. A fire was kindled on the hearih, and 
 fresh fagots piled on it, while the half-drowned men, who were 
 placed in a recess of the chimney, unable to relieve themselves, 
 were compelled to endure the excessive heal which their igno- 
 rant companions thought necessary to restore animation. One 
 of the party, too, supposing that fire within would not be less 
 efficacious than fire without, and believing brandy to be a tini- 
 versal remedy, brought a keg of it from the cargo landed, and, 
 with the characteristic recklessness of a sailor and a smuggler, 
 knocking in the head with a hatchet, presented them with a 
 bowlful. "Whether," observed Mr. Drew, on relating this 
 most perilous adventure, " we drank of it or not, 1 do not know; 
 certainly not to the extent recommended, or I shoidd not now 
 be alive to tell the tale. My first sensation was that of ex- 
 treme cold. Although half-roasted, it was a long while before 
 I fell the fire, though its effects are still visible on my legs, 
 which were burnt in several places. The wounds continued 
 open more than two years, and the marks I shall carry to my 
 grave. After leaving the farm-house, I had to walk about two 
 miles through deep snow, to my lodgings. When 1 think of 
 the complicated perils of that night, I am astonished that I ever 
 survived them." 
 
 On hearing of his son's narrow escape from an untimely 
 death, the father, in the bitterness of his soul, exclaimed, " Alas ! 
 what will be the end of my poor unhappy boy ?" He felt ex- 
 tremely desirous of withdrawing Samuel from a neighbourhood 
 that offered him so many inducements to run into danger, and 
 wished to place him where he would be under his own inspec- 
 tion, or that of his friends. Prosecuting his inquiries with this 
 view, he learned that a young man who had lately begun busi- 
 ness as a saddler in St. Austell, was about to commence shoe- 
 making also; and (m making ap[)lication, ascertained his wil- 
 lingness to employ Samuel as his principal in that department. 
 This being what the parent wanted, he communicated with 
 his son, and found him disposed to accede to the proposition. 
 Samuel, therefore, after spending the Christmas in his father's 
 house, took up his residence in St. Austell. 
 
 Thus far we have seen Sa muel Drew as the lively, self-willed, 
 intractable child ; as the wild, thoughtless, fearless boy ; as the 
 daring, resolute, enterprising youth ; — exhibiting in these suc- 
 cessive stages indications of that mental vigour which would 
 lead its possessor, however circumstanced, to independence of 
 
PROSPECTIVE SUMMARY. 
 
 53 
 
 thought and action. Debarred by his parents' poverty, and his 
 own disposition, from the advantages of education, we have 
 seen him exposed, ahuost from infancy, to hardsliip and priva- 
 tion. We have seen him, in the first dawning of reason, after 
 having been carefully instructed in his moral duties by a gifted 
 and affectionate mother, prematurely deprived of her precepts 
 and her example. Though preserved, by her timely instruction 
 and the general decorum of his father's house, from profane 
 language and gross imnioraliiy, yet, for want of suitable control, 
 we have seen him the associate of vicious companions, and the 
 participator of their follies. And We have seen him, in his 
 more advanced growth, still unrestrained by parental authority, 
 and destitute of any cherished moral or religious feeling, yield- 
 ing to the promptings of an adventurous spirit*, and brought, in 
 consequence, to the verge of destruction. 
 
 Hereafter he will appear before us in a more matured stage 
 of existence, and under a more pleasing character. Arrived at 
 manhood, we shall find iiim awaking from the dream of life 
 to its reality, and opening his eyes to receive Divine illumina- 
 tion. Feeling his ignorance of natural science, and of spiritual 
 things, and resolving, in the strength of Almighty God, to 
 redeem the time, and retrieve the past, we shall find him putting 
 forth his energies, — surmounting the obstacles of obscure birth, 
 poverty, and want of education, — boldly venturing into untried 
 regions of thought, — rising to an honourable station in literature, 
 — and acquiring just renown. To what cause is such a change 
 to be attributed ? Those who peruse this narrative will, we 
 think, feel no difficulty in ascribing it wholly to the grace of 
 God, and the influence of his Holy Spirit, communicated through 
 the atonement of our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 "So Lycidas sunk low, but moutited high, 
 Through the dear might of Him who vralked the waves." 
 
 E2 
 
56 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW.' 
 
 chapel, and, as far as religion occupied my thoughts, was an 
 Arminian in sentiment, yet I had very little serious (eeling, and 
 no intention of joining the Methodist body. But just then a 
 thin, active s-tripiiiig came into the St. Austell circuit as a 
 preacher, of tiie name of Adam Clarke. Him 1 heard with 
 surprise and attention. I followed his preacliing whenever I 
 could ; and so did a midiitude of others. He gave us no 
 dogmas, he forced upon us no doctrines ; but he set us a-lhink- 
 ing and reasoning, because he thought and reasoned with us 
 hiinself. Crowds foilowetl wlierever lie went ; and his word, 
 spirit, and coiulutt were severally niad<! blessings to many, 
 while his zeal was the wonder and profit of multitudes. His 
 SRrmons were short, numerous, and earnest ; and though young, 
 and looking even younger than he really was, yet he gained 
 and maintained an influence and respect which none felt 
 afraid or ashamed to own. I well recollect the time when, 
 having to preach in St. Austell, the crowd was so great that he 
 could not get into the chapel. At that time the males and fe- 
 males sat on opposite sides of the house ; and that on which 
 the women were being nearest the street, he got in at one of 
 the windows, and was borne along upon their hands and heads, 
 till, without touching the floor, he was safely landed in the 
 pulpit. An elderly member of the society once said to me, 
 ' When I saw Adam Clarke enter our pulpit for the first time, I 
 thought within myself, Well, what does Mr. Wesley think of us, 
 to send us such a boy as this ? but when I heard him preach I 
 was astonished ; and heartily glad I was that I did not tell my 
 thoughts at that time to any other person.' During Mr. Clarke's 
 stay in St. Austell, which was only one year, he added my sis- 
 ter and me, and many others, to the Methodist society." 
 
 The fact to which Mr. Drew alludes in the last sentence 
 being too important in his personal history to be passed by 
 with a mere intimation, wo venture to state it circumstantially. 
 It is closely connected with his brother's death, the particulars 
 of which follow in his sister's words. 
 
 " In the month of May, 1785, not long after my brother 
 Samuel had gone to work in St. Austell, my elder brother, 
 Jabez, was taken ill. He had just then completed his twenty- 
 second year. It was at first thought to be only a violent cold ; 
 but it terminated in a fever, wliich very soon proved fatal. He 
 '-'sided with my father at Polpea, and I had been for some 
 time with a person in St. Austell, receiving instruction in nee- 
 dlework ; but being myself unwell a little before his illness, I 
 was then at my father's house. A few months before, Mr. 
 
HIS brother's death. 
 
 67 
 
 Wrigley, when preaching at Tywaidreath, in the ardour of his 
 zeal, strenuously urged upon the congregation, and especially 
 the young, the expediency of joining the Methodist society. 
 Several young men were induced, apparently without any 
 serious feeling, to give the preacher their names, as disposed to 
 follow his advice; and among them my brother Jabez. They 
 soon discoiitimied their atteiidaiice, and some of them made 
 what they had heanl at class-meetings a matter of ridicule. 
 My brother did not fall into this error; for /(C had always 
 shown an outward respect for religion, while Samuel did not 
 scruple to scoff' at serious things.* But, knowing that he had 
 imbibed too much of the disposition of his thoughtless asso- 
 ciates, and that he was far from such a state of conscious ac- 
 ceptance with God as he felt to be necessary to his peace, he 
 experienced, when taken ill, great mental anxiety, and soon 
 the most bitter anguish. At first he was not considered to be 
 in danger; but within a week his disease assumed a more ma- 
 lignant character. 
 
 "In this stage of my brother's illness Mr. Clarke was intro- 
 duced to him by his sorrowful parents ; and he, not knowing 
 how great his anguish was, and fearing to heal the wound 
 slightly, probed it (as my father expressed it) a little too deep. 
 The agony of his mind was extreme. All hope appeared to 
 forsake him ; and despair, for a season, seized him as its prey. 
 Our step-mother, being herself a stranger to personal reli- 
 gion, attributed my brother's anguish wholly to Mr. Clarke's 
 visit; and, from a mistaken affection, now forbade Mr. C, or 
 any other Methodist, to see him ; thus keeping from him those 
 who might have administered consolation. 
 
 "How long he remained in this fearful condition I do 
 not exactly recollect. My father afterward told me that he 
 could not endure to enter his son's apartment, such horror 
 appeared on his countenance. My father would retire into 
 the recesses of the orchard Lo pour out his soul to God ; and 
 frequently was he summoned from his knees to attend upon his 
 despairing child. One day, when thus wrestling in prayer, he 
 was called to come instantly to Jabez. Supposing him to be 
 either dead or dying, with feelings wrought up to intense agony, 
 he went into the sick chamber ; when, to his astonishment and 
 joy, instead of hearing his son's groans, and beholding his hor- 
 
 * Either on this, or on some previous occasion, Samuel was present at 
 one of these class-meetings ; and when the leader addressed him per- 
 sonally, he, with his usual recklessness and hardihood, replied, " This may 
 be your day of examination, but it is not w.y day of confession." 
 
58 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 ror-stricken visage, he saw a radiant smile illuminating his pale 
 countenance, and was received with the delightful salutation, 
 ' Now, my dear father, all is well ; I have on the wedding-gar- 
 meni ! Return thanks to God, dear father. I am going to 
 glory!' 
 
 " In this delightful frame of mind my brother Jabez continued, 
 though without a prospect of recovery. Apprehending his end 
 to be near, he wished to see my brother Samuel and myself 
 (for I had returned a few days before to St. Austell) ; and a 
 messenger was sent to fetch us. Until tiiis time, Samuel, con- 
 trary to his natural tenderness of disposition, had shown much 
 indifference about his brother's illness. One day a report 
 rea(died me that Jabez was dead ; and when, overwhelmed 
 with sorrow, I sought Samuel, instead of evincing concern, he 
 ridiculed my grief, saying to me, ' Why, Tammy, what's the 
 use of crying? If Jabez is dead, he must be buried ; that's all 
 I know about it.' However, when the messenger came with 
 horses to fetch us, his manner altered ; and he became serious 
 and thoughtful. My feelings, on seeing the pale and emaciated 
 but happy countenance of my eldest brother, 1 do not attempt 
 to describe. With his trembling hand he strove to wipe the 
 tears from my face, saying, ' My dear sister, do not mourn. 
 Whether I live or die, I am the Lord's.' What passed at the 
 interview between my brothers I do not know. I can only 
 judge from its efTecl^. From that moment Samuel became an 
 altered character. The next day my brother Jabez appeared 
 to revive, and some faint hopes were entertained of his recov- 
 ery ; but alas ! it was only 
 
 ' Like .some wax taper just before it dies 
 Swells biu with life, and gives a fairer light, 
 As if it were prophetic of its end.' 
 
 On the day following, which was Sunday, he became 
 worse, and at eleven o'clock that night, with expressions of 
 delightful prospects and undiminished conhdence, he died, 
 happy in the Lord. Such was the effect of my brother's death 
 on me, that I became seriously ill, and was laid up several 
 weeks at my father's house. When I retm-ned to St. Austell,! 
 found that Samuel had joined the Methodist society, and was 
 actively engaged in labours of public usefulness." 
 
 A funeral sermon was preached on the day of Jabez Drew's 
 interment, from the steps of his father's barn, by Mr. Adam 
 Clarke, to a very great concourse of people. His text was, 
 
HE JOINS THE METHODISTS. 
 
 59 
 
 "We must needs die, and be as water spilt on the ground, 
 which cannot be gathered up again." In the course of his ser- 
 mon, which was most impressive, and rendered a blessing to 
 many, he took occasion, wiiile expressing his conviction that 
 the eternal safety of Jabez Drew was beyond a doubt, to de- 
 scribe the nature, trace the progress, and enforce the necessity 
 of conversion to God. This sermon Samuel heard. The 
 fallow ground of his heart had been just broken up by the in- 
 terview with his dying brother; his attention was awakened; 
 and on this occasion he appears to have obtained those views of 
 divine truth which had a saving influence on himself, and were 
 afterward maintained by him from the pulpit and the press. 
 
 A very intimate friend of Mr. Drew, whose religious course 
 commenced at the same period, says, " Mr. Clarke's sermon 
 at the funeral of Jabez Drew, which I attended, and the serious 
 advice of a good man on the way home, led me to join the 
 Metliodist society. I received my note of admission on the 
 28th of May, within a week of the funeral ; and I think Sam- 
 uel received his not more than a month afterward. 
 
 " Two circumstances in relation to him I very well remem- 
 ber, which show that he must have joined the Methodists in 
 June, 1785. One Sunday evening, after I had become a mem- 
 ber, Mr. Wrigley, the superintendent, gave notice, that after the 
 service he would address tiie society. Observing two or three 
 persons, not members, remaining in their pews, he said that 
 the meeting was intended for the society only; but remarked, 
 as these individuals were going out, that he had no olijectioa 
 for any seriously disposed person to remain. Upon this, a fe- 
 male [)resent said aloud, ' Sammy Drew wishes to stop ;' and 
 Mr. John Rosevear, the good man who persuaded me to join 
 the society, instantly ran out of the chapel, and overtaking him, 
 prevailed on him to return. I have heard Mr. Drew, when 
 referring to this circumstance, more than once say, ' I felt so 
 much, on being directly ordered to leave the chapel, that but for 
 the personal and pressing invitation of the old man, I believe I 
 should never have connected myselt with the Methodists. 
 The midsummer quarterly meeting was not then held in St. 
 Austell, but at Medras, about four miles froin the town. Sam- 
 uel and I attended, and both remained at the love-feast* as 
 
 * Love-feasts, so termed from the Agapae of the ancient Christians, 
 are, among the Methodists, meetings of the societies, in which the mem- 
 bers individually, if so disposed, relate to the others their past reli- 
 gious conflicts and deliverances, and their present feelings and prospects. 
 Considerable misapprehension relative to these meetings probably exists. 
 
60 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 members. It was a clear, starlight night; and on returning, 
 with .several oiher young people, I recollect how much we 
 were all struck by the manner m which he repeated that beau- 
 tiful hymn of Addison's, 
 
 ' The spacious firmament on high,' &c. 
 
 Between the Sunday evening to which I have referred and this 
 evening he must, therefore, have joined the society ; and it was 
 not long after this that he stated in a love-feast at St. Austell, 
 his having first felt that peace of mind which arises from 'the 
 remission of sins that are past,' while he was secretly engaged 
 in prayer under a tree." 
 
 Mr Drew's sister says, that at a quarterly love-feast, soon 
 after her brother's conversion (she thinks the Michaelmas 
 quarier), she and her brother attended. Their father had 
 spoken in the meeting very feelingly ; and, going homeward, 
 Samuel said to her, " Oh ! how I felt the words of that hymn 
 which father repeated, and what he said about his readiness to 
 die ! Tliey penetrated my very soul ! I believe father is a 
 good man." Though, either at this or some other early peiiod 
 of his religious course, he observed, " I remember how vexed 
 I used formerly to be, that father did not conduct himself like 
 many irreligious parents." 
 
 We have been thus minute in this part of our narrative, be- 
 cause it recounts what we think must be regarded as the 
 most interesting and important epoch of Mr. Drew's life. 
 We do not thus designate it because of his connection at 
 this time with a particular religious body, or the adoption of 
 any peculiar creed ; but because a period had now arrived, from 
 which, in his apprehension of religious truth, he could say, 
 " Once was I darkness, but now am I light in the Lord," and, 
 with reference to his views, and habits, and desires, "Old 
 things are passed away ; behold all things are become new." 
 
 This period especially demands attention, because we thence 
 perceive a direction given to that mental energy, and trace the 
 full (h^velopment and beneficial application of those intellectual 
 powers, which afterward raised their possessor into distinction. 
 Nor is the coiiiicction here exhibited between a religious life 
 and great mental a])plication a mailer of trivial importance ; for 
 every such instance tends to establish the position, that vital 
 religion is not opposed to the exercise of intellect, but becomes 
 its powerful auxiliary. 
 
 There is anotherpoint of view in which this period of Mr. 
 
HE WORKS AT ST. AUSTELL. 
 
 61 
 
 Drew's life is of more than usual importance. Comparing his 
 deportment and habits previously and subsequently, we cannot 
 but infer, that the religion which he espoused was not a mere 
 theory, not a matter of opinion, but something experimental, 
 influential, and practical — something capable of changing the 
 whole current of the thoughts and purposes — something to be 
 known, and felt, and enjoyed. This change which he experi- 
 enced, and which, in its effects, was seen in the whole tenour 
 of iiis after life, is properly termed conversion. It is such a 
 change as this, reaching to the very thoughts and intents of the 
 heart, which, according to our apprehensions of Scripture, 
 every fallen child of Adam must experience, or, " he can in 
 nowise enter into the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 SECTION VIII. 
 
 Mr. Drew begins to work in St. Austell as a journeyman shoemaker — Hit 
 master's character — His first literary bias — He commences business 
 for himself— His difficulties and perseverance. 
 
 That those circumstances in Mr. Drew's life, which are 
 closely allied to each other, and which gave direction to his 
 future pursuits, might be noticed in their natural connection, 
 the order of time has been a little anticipated in the preceding 
 section. So intimate is the relationship between his religious 
 and his literary life, that to present them separately to the 
 reader would be impossible. They mutually affected and 
 influenced each other. Operating upon a mind naturally 
 bold and independent, religious conviction did not supei-sede 
 rational inquiry, nor was assertion mistaken for evidence. 
 Fully sensible, from what he had himself experienced of the 
 supreme importance and general truth of personal religion, he 
 was led to investigate closely the various particulars of his 
 creed, and to culiivate his mind, that he might be competent to 
 the investigation. Tliose events which may be regarded as 
 introductory to his mental cultivation, and the formation of his 
 character, having been tlirown into one view, without scrupu- 
 lous regard to chronological arrangement. We now resume 
 the thread of our narrative, quoting occasionally Mr. Drew's 
 own words from two short auto-biographical sketches which 
 have already appeared in print. 
 
62 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 Referring to the time immediately preceding his coming to 
 St. Austell, he sa3's, " I was scarcely able to read, and almost 
 totally unable to write. Literature was a term to which I could 
 annex no idea. Grammar I knew not the meaning of. I was 
 expert at follies, acute in trifles, and ingenious about nonsense." 
 This description accords very nearly with what we have 
 already seen of him. Some ability to write he must, however, 
 have possessed at this time; because his sister had received 
 more than one letter from him. Yet, that his performance 
 could not have been otherwise than indifferent, may be inferred 
 from a friend's comparing his writing, after several years' prac- 
 tice, to the " traces of a spider dipped in ink, and set to crawl 
 on paper." 
 
 It was, as we have already noticed, in or about January, 
 178.5, that Mr. Drew entered St. Austell as a journeyman shoe- 
 maker; not having then completed his twentieth year. This, 
 though less than he stales his age to be in his auto-biography, 
 accords with the recollections of Dr. Clarke, who, in his notice 
 of Mr. Drew, as having been converted under his ministry, rep- 
 resents him as then "finishing his apprenticeship." 
 
 The history of his juvenile years proves that he possessed 
 great decision of character. 'J'liis mark of a vigorous mind 
 was frequently shown in after life. When brought under tlie 
 chastening influence of religion, iiis conduct was no longer 
 chargeable with folly or extravagance; ; yet it generally indi^ 
 cated an independent spirit. His present employer, whom he 
 represents as intelligent, though eccentric, soon discovered in 
 the journeyman a disposition, in many respects, like his own ; 
 and in consequence of this kindred temper, and a similarity of 
 age, master and man felt a mutual regard. The one, as Mr. 
 Drew expresses it, was " Iludibras," and the other "Ralph;" 
 and in most inatters Iludibras made Ralph his confidant. In 
 the house where Samuel lodu;ed there was a feiuale servant to 
 wiiom his master was attached. C'om-huliiig tliat the alliance 
 would not be approved by hi.s fi iends, he endeavoured to keep 
 them in ignorance ; but in this he did not succeed. His father, 
 understanding that Samuel was in the secret, applied to him for 
 information ; but he was mule. That the old gentleman might 
 not be displeased or grieved, he at length promised to commu- 
 nicate all lie might know of tiie matter for the future. He then 
 related to his master the conversation, and added, " Now keep 
 your own counsel ; tell me none of your secrets, and I cannot 
 repeal them. But depend upon it, if you forget, I shall be as 
 good as my word to your father." His master thanked him 
 
THIRST FOR KNOWLEDGE AWAKENED. 
 
 63 
 
 for his candour, and said lie would follow his advice. Not long 
 after, feeling that "untold pleasure wanted half its charms," 
 he again spoke to Samuel on the subject; and he, in fulfilment 
 of his engagement, communicated what he had heard to the 
 parents. The incident, though trivial, shows his plain dealing 
 and fixedness of purpose. 
 
 The character of his employer, the circumstances in which 
 he now found himself, his desire and determination to acquire 
 knowledge, his method of study, the facilities afforded him, and 
 the difficulties which he had to overcome, cannot be so well 
 described as in his own words : — 
 
 " My master was by trade a saddler, had acquired some 
 knowledge of bookbinding, and hired me to carry on the shoe- 
 making for him. He was one of those men who will live any- 
 where, but will get rich nowhere His shop was frequented' 
 by persons of a more respectable class than those with whom I 
 had previously associated, and various topics became alter- 
 nately the subjects of conversation. I listened with all that 
 attention which my labour and good manners would permit, 
 and obtained among them some Httle knowledge. About this 
 time, disputes ran high in St. Austell between the Calvinists 
 and Arminians, and our shop .afforded a considerable scene of 
 action. In cases of uncertain issue, I was sometimes appealed 
 to to decide upon a doubtful point. This, perhaps flattering 
 my vanity, became a new stimulus to action. I examined dic- 
 tionaries, picked up many words, and, from an attachment 
 which I felt to books which were occasionally brought to the 
 shop to be bound, I began to have some view of the various 
 theories with which they abounded. The more I read, the 
 more I felt my own ignorance ; and the more I felt my igno- 
 rance, the more invincible became my energy to surmount it. 
 Every leisure moment was now employed in reading one thing 
 or other. Having, however, to support myself by manual 
 labour, my time for reading was but little ; and to overcome this 
 disadvantage, my usual method was to place a book before me 
 while at meat, and at every repast 1 read five or six pages. Al- 
 though the providence of God has raised me above this inces- 
 sant toil, when I could ' barely earn enough to make life 
 struggle,' yet it has become so habitual, that the custom has 
 not forsaken me at the present moment. 
 
 " After having worked with this master several months, I 
 well recollect, a neighbouring gentleman brought ' Locke's 
 Essay on the Human Understanding' to be bound. I had 
 never seen or heard of this work before. I took an occasion to 
 
64 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 look into it, and I thought his mode of reasoning very pleasing, 
 and his arguments exceedingly strong. I watched all oppor- 
 tunities of reading for myself, and would willingly have 
 laboured a fortnight to have the books. I had then no (concep- 
 tion that they could be obtained for money. They were, how- 
 ever, soon carried away, and with them all my future improve- 
 ment by their means. The close and decisive manner of Mr. 
 Locke's reasoning made on my mind an impression too deep 
 to be easily effaced ; and though I did not see his Essay again 
 for many years, yet the early impression was not forgotten, 
 and it is from this accidental circumstance that I received my 
 first bias for abstruse subjects." 
 
 To a friend he observed, " This book set all my soul to 
 think; to feel and to reason, from all without and from all 
 within. It gave the first metaphysical turn to my mind : and 
 I cultivated the little knowledge of writing which I had ac- 
 quired, in order to put down my reflections." He elsewhere 
 remarks, " It awakened me from my stupor, and induced me 
 to form a resolution to abandon the grovelling views which I 
 had been accustomed to entertain." 
 
 In another account which Mr. Drew gives of this period, 
 there are some additional facts noticed, which we present to 
 the reader. 
 
 " In this situation I found myself surrounded by books of 
 various descriptions, and felt my taste for the acquirement of 
 information return with renewed vigour, and increase in pro- 
 portion to the means of indulgence which were now placed 
 fully within my reach. But here some new difficulties 
 occurred, with which I found it painful to grapple. My know- 
 ledge of the import of words was as contracted as my ideas 
 were scanty ; so that I found it necessary to keep a diction- 
 ary continually by my side while I was reading, to which I 
 was compelled constantly to refer. This was a tedious pro- 
 cess. But in a little time the difficulty wore away, and my 
 horizon of knowledge became enlarged." 
 
 From the time of his union with the Methodists, Mr. Drew 
 became intellectually as well as spiritually " a new creature." 
 He no longer tolerated indolence of body or mind. Diligence 
 in business and fervency of spirit were happily combined ; 
 and his consistent deportment, elevated sentiment, and un- 
 affected piety, gained him many friends. It is not known what 
 course of reading he at first pursued. Most probably it was 
 desultory, confined chiefly, if not wholly, to the books brought 
 
HE COMMENCES BUSINESS. 
 
 65 
 
 to his master's shop ; nor was any specific direction given to 
 his inquiries, until Locke's Essay fell into his hands. One 
 book he mentions as having highly delighted him, and at the 
 same lime deepened his religious impressions, and given him 
 clearer views of vital Christianity. This was the " Pilgrim's 
 Progress" of John Bunyan, — 
 
 " Ingenious dreamer, in whose well told tale 
 Sweet fiction and plain truth alike prevail." 
 
 It was the first book he could call his own, and next to the 
 Bible it was his companion. Throughout his life he evinced 
 a great predilection for the indirect mode of conveying instruc- 
 tion by tale and apologue, which may be traced to this early 
 impression. 
 
 Continuing his narrative, Mr. Drew observes, " My master 
 growing inattentive to his shoemaking, many of my friends 
 •advised me to commence business for myself, and oft'ered me 
 money for that purpose. I accepted the oiler, started accord- 
 ingly, and by dint of application, in about one year discharged 
 my debts, and stood alone." 
 
 The history of this year, which is thus compressed within a 
 sentence, would, if fully known, afford many a useful lesson to 
 young tradesmen with small capitals. A few particulars are 
 yet remembered, which may interest if they do not benefit the 
 reader. 
 
 His thirst for knawledge having induced him to lay out in 
 books such money as he could save from his earnings as a 
 journeyman, when he was recommended to begin business on 
 his own accoimt, fourteen shillings was the total of iiis casli. 
 To his father he applied for assistance ; but the old man was 
 constitutionally timid, especially about secular undertakings ; 
 and to prevent his son's embarking in business, refused to aid 
 him. A miller with whom he was acquainted, then a serious 
 man, was particularly urgent for him to commence. Mr. 
 Drew stated to him this difficulty, and his friend replied, " That 
 shall not hinder you from beginning. I'll lend you five pounds 
 upon the security of your good character, and more if that's ndt 
 enough ; and I'll promise not to demand it till you can con- 
 veniently pay me." This generous offer was accepted. 
 
 At this juncture Dr. Franklin's " Way to Wealth" fell into 
 his hands. The pithy and excellent advice of " Poor Richard" 
 delighted him. He placed it in a conspicuous situation in his 
 chamber, and resolved to follow its maxims. 
 
 F 2 
 
65 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DRBW. 
 
 " Vessels large may venture more, 
 But little boats should keep near shore," 
 
 was applied to a practical purpose at the very outset. He 
 took part of a small house, at a low rent, and " cut his gar- 
 ment according to the cloth." "It is better to go to bed sup- 
 perless than rise in debt," was another maxim upon which he 
 acted ; and he took care that the " sound of his hammer" 
 should be heard from " five in the morning till ten at night." 
 " Eighteen hours out of the twenty-four," he has since said, 
 "Jdid I regularly work, and sometimes longer; for my friends 
 gave me plenty of employment ; but until the bills became due, 
 I had no means of paying wages to a journeyman. I was in- 
 defatigable ; and at the year's end I had the satisfaction of pay- 
 ing the five pounds which had been so kindly lent me, and find- 
 ing myself, with a tolerable stock of leather, clear of the 
 world." 
 
 Not many years afterward, the miller who had shown so 
 much kindness to Mr. Drew, forgot his God, became an aban- 
 doned drunkard, and, as a natural consequence, reduced him- 
 self and his family to want. He came one day into Mr. D.'s 
 shop, and said, " Sam, I want you to lend me five pounds." 
 "For some time," said Mr. Drew, "I hesitated, whether I 
 ought to let him have it or not. I knew very well that I should 
 never be repaid ; but this was not the difficulty. If I put five 
 pounds into his hands, I thought, it will be but tempting him to 
 commit sin ; and perhaps it is my duty to deny him. On the 
 other hand, I considered, ' Here stands the man to whose kind- 
 ness I owe all that I possess in the world : I know he is poor, 
 and his family wanting necessaries. He asks me to return the 
 favour he once conferred upon me. I am not certain that he 
 will misapply the money ; and I dare not refuse,' I had not 
 the money by me ; but I borrowed it of a friend, in order to 
 help him to whose former kindness I was so deeply indebted." 
 
 According to the date of an old account-book, Mr. Drew 
 began business in January, 1787. He continued in his former 
 lodgings a few months; but having an apprentice soon after 
 his commencement, he thought it would be more convenient 
 and economical to live on his own premises. He then made 
 application to his father, and, to their mutual joy, obtained per- 
 mission for his sister to live with him as housekeeper. A few 
 mean articles of furniture were also given him by his parent, 
 ■who now found that opposition was unavailing. 
 
 Many," observes Mr. Drew's sister, " were the distressing 
 
PECUNIARY DIFFICCLTlEa, 
 
 67 
 
 privations my brother and I underwent the first year. His 
 resolution to ' owe no man any tiling' was unconquerable ; and 
 I bore every thing cheerfully for his sake. Our family con- 
 nections being respectable, no one suspected our poverty. 
 Though we managed to give the apprentice food enough, we 
 often went with a scanty allowance ourselves. Sometimes we 
 •were driven to great straights for want of money ; but my 
 brother's resolution to keep out of debt continued unshaken. 
 One market-day, a relation called on us from a distance. I 
 wanted to buy provisions ; but neither my brother nor I had 
 any money. Not liking, in the presence of a stranger, to ex- 
 pose our poverty, I said to my brother, with assumed careless- 
 ness, ' 'Tis time for me to go to market. Have you any sil- 
 ver? I have none.' On his replying in the negative, our 
 visiter put some silver into my hand, saying, ' Take this. You 
 can pay me the next time I call.' Necessity compelled us to 
 accept this seasonable ofier, without which I know not what 
 we should have done. 
 
 " Through the kindness and influence of my brother's friends, 
 he obtained a great many genteel customers ; and was obliged, 
 in some degree, to keep up a creditable appearanc^e. This fre- 
 quently added to our difiiculties. Towanls the end of the first 
 year business increased so much that he was compelled to 
 employ a journeyman. Ho could not pay him board wages, 
 and therefore the man was to live witli us. We had two 
 rooms, and but two beds ; one I occupied, and in the other my 
 brother and his apprentice slept. It was at length, after much 
 reluctance on my brother's part, agreed to place my bed in his 
 room for the man, and substitute mine by a bundle of straw. 
 I used to carry on a little business of my own as a semptress, 
 and had many female acquaintances calling to see me; but 
 after getting my straw bed, I would never admit them into my 
 room, lest they should discover ' the nakedness of the land,' 
 and prejudice my brother's business. 
 
 " Sometimes my spirits would fail me under these trying 
 circumstances, and my mind would sink into a state of gloom 
 and despondency. But my dear, noble-minded brother was 
 just the spiritual preceptor and comforter I wanted. When he 
 saw me in perplexity, he would saj'. 'Cheer up, my sister; — 
 have faith in God ; — there are brighter days in store.' And 
 very soon the clouds began to pass away." 
 
 Unfavourable to mental cultivation as was the state of rest- 
 less anxiety arising from Mr. Drew's pecuniary difficulties, yet 
 
68 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 liis tlioughts were in vigorous exercise, and his ardent thirst for 
 knowledge increased. But if, in the midst of his privations, 
 his soul ever glowed with tlie anticipation of rising from ob- 
 scurity, he might with exquisite propriety have exclaimed, 
 
 " Ah ! who can tell how hard it is to climb 
 The steep where fame's proud temple shines afar ?" 
 
 SECTION IX. 
 
 Literary pursuits — Appointed a local preacher and class-leader — Dis- 
 missal from office — Instances of benevolent disposition — Success in 
 business — He abandons politics. 
 
 The year 1788 opened, in some respects, auspiciously. 
 With reference to his business, Mr. Drew had now, to use a 
 trite but expressive phrase, " broken the neck of his difficulties." 
 His incessant toil to achieve independence he was enabled to 
 relax. Industry and rigid economy were still indispensable ; 
 but it was no longer necessary that he should " go to bed sup- 
 perless" to avoid "rising in debt." His ruling passion, the 
 acquisition of knowledge, he was, in a limited degree, enabled 
 to gratify; and, during tliis and several succeeding years, every 
 spare moment, and all the hours he could snatch from sleep, 
 were devoted to reading such books as he could procure. 
 
 " By unremitting industry, I at length surmounted such ob- 
 stacles as were of a pecuniary nature : tliis enabled me to pro- 
 cure assistance in my labours, and afforded me the common 
 relaxation which others enjoyed. This was the only leisure 
 at which I aimed. In this situation I felt an internal vigour 
 prompting me to exertion, but I was unable to determine what 
 direction I should take. The sciences lay before me. I dis- 
 covered charms in each, but was unable to embrace them all, 
 and hesitated in making a selection. I had learned that 
 
 ' One science only will one genius fit. 
 So vast is art, so narrow human wit.' 
 
 " At first I felt such an attachment to astronomy, that I re- 
 solved to confine my views to the study of that science ; but I 
 soon found myself too defective in arithmetic to make any pro- 
 ficiency. Modern history was my next object ; but I quickly 
 
HE BECOMES A LOCAL PliEACHER. 
 
 69 
 
 discovered that more books and time were necessary than I 
 could either purchase or spare, and on tliis account history 
 was abandoned. In the region of metaphysics I saw neither 
 of the above impediments. It neveriheless appeared to be a 
 thorny path, but I determined to enter, and accordingly begaa 
 to tread it." 
 
 Referring to this period of his life, in conversation with a 
 gentleman with whom he was particularly intimate, when 
 asked whether he had not studied astronomy in his time, Mr. 
 Drew remarked, " I once had a very great desire for it, for I 
 thought it suitable to the genius of my mind, and I think so 
 still ; but then 
 
 ' Chill penury repressed the noble rage. 
 And froze the genial current of the soul.' 
 
 Dangers and difficulties I did not fear, while I could bring the 
 powers of my mind to bear upon them, and force myself a 
 passage. To metaphysics I then applied myself, and became 
 what the world and my good friend Dr. Clarke call 'a meta- 
 physician.' " 
 
 Connected with the origin of Mr. Drew's metaphysical 
 studies, there is another circumstance in the history of 1788 
 that demands attention. We have already seen that his re- 
 ligious convictions led him, in his twenty-first year, to join the 
 Methodists. About the commencement of his twenty-fourth 
 year, he became a local preacher* and a class-leader. The 
 responsible duty of instructing others on the all-important sub- 
 ject of religion, necessarily led him to exercise his thoughts as 
 a moralist and a divine. He could not ofiiciate as a public 
 teacher without becoming presently sensible of his own defi- 
 ciency on many points of necessary knowledge. His was not 
 the temper to sit quietly down, and felicitate himself upon his 
 ignorance of " vain philosophy." While at his shop bench, 
 many glimpses of truth might attract a momentary attention, 
 and then pass away, like a vision, from before his eyes. He 
 might have tlicre contented himself with a vague and indistinct 
 apprehension of the truth or falsehood of particular theories ; 
 
 * Mr. Drew's first attempt at preaching, before he had received his 
 formal appointment, was at Tregorrick, a village about a mile from St. 
 Austell. The service was held in a dwelling-house; and the person to 
 whom it belonged used to say, " I like Sammy Drew very well, because 
 he always tells a good story." 
 
70 
 
 LIFE OF SAMrEL DREW. 
 
 but in his public character he would find it absolutely neces- 
 sary to tliink and exumine closely. As a private instructor 
 and adviser also, cases of conscience would sometimes come 
 before him, which he would have to assist in determining. On 
 some occasions, the individuals mider his charge might, per- 
 haps, be at a loss how to act ; and it would be his duty to 
 furnish them with rules for their guidance. Every class-leader 
 should be a moral philosopher, as well as a pious man. Where 
 the decision lies between duties that are apparently at variance, 
 the most patient exercise of thought is necessary to determine 
 the riglit application of Scripture precept. These considera- 
 tions combine to show, that the public duties in which Mr. 
 Drew was now engaged, tended to give life, vigour, and direc- 
 tion to his mental exertions. 
 
 To preserve the unity of our subject, we pass over an inter- 
 val of about twelve months. Within this period an exchange 
 of the itinerant preachers had taken place, and there was 
 raised against Mr. Drew the cry of heresy. He was accused 
 of holding Calvinistic tenets. The truth of this allegation the 
 superintendant preacher did not deem it necessary to substan- 
 tiate by examination or evidence, before he gave it credit. With- 
 out waiting the decision of the local preachers' meeting, where 
 it must be openly discussed, a short method was adopted, in 
 which authority was substituted for reason. The proceeding 
 we give in Mr. Drew's own words : — 
 
 " A message was brouglit to my sliop, that Mr. M., the 
 preacher, wanted to see me at Mr. F.'s,* and that I must bring 
 my preacher's plan and class-paper with me. I attended 
 accordingly, and was shown into the parlour, where Mr. M. 
 and Mr. F. were sitting. Mr. F., on my entering, said, ' We've 
 sent for thee, Sam, about this business of thine in preaching 
 Calvinism.' I replied, that I did not exactly know what were 
 the charges against me, — that I held no doctrine but what I 
 believed was found in Scripture, and maintained by Mr. Wes- 
 ley himself, — and that, if they would allow me, I would en- 
 deavour to prove it to them. ' No, no,' answered Mr. F., 
 ' we know all about the matter, and don't want any explana- 
 tion of tliine ; for we have already agreed that we'll have no 
 dispute.' I then said, 'If you mean to proceed in this sum- 
 mary way, and will not allow me a hearing, I have no remedy 
 but to submit.' At the desire of Mr. M., the preacher, who 
 
 * An influential member of the society. 
 
HIS DISMISSAL FROM OFFICE. 
 
 71 
 
 did not say much, I gave up my class-paper and my plan ; and 
 then inquired whether they wished to proceed further, and dis- 
 allow my membership. To this they replied in the negative ; 
 and I took my leave. Had they demanded my ticket of mem- 
 bership, I should have complied ; and should not, I suppose, 
 have been a Methodist at the present time. 
 
 " When the matter came to be noised abroad, it caused no 
 little talk in our society, and among the local preachers. Many 
 of them were persuaded that my theological views were Scrip- 
 tural and methodistical ; and others, who were unable to deter- 
 mine this point, were indignant at the hasty and irregular pro- 
 ceeding of the superiniendant, though he was well received as 
 a preacher, and esteemed as a Christian. Mr. F.'s assumption 
 of authority, in a matter which did not come under his cogni- 
 zance, was also a ground of complaint. Not long afterward, 
 Mr. M., finding that he had exposed himself to much odium 
 on this account, and perhaps doubting whether I might not be 
 in the right, came to me privately, and wished me to resume 
 my offices. I said to him, ' No sir, the matter is quite public. 
 You have put me out at the door, and I shall not come back 
 through the key-hole. Before I resume my plan, I must be 
 publicly justified. The office of class-leader, I believe, I shall 
 never accept while I live in St. Austell.' " 
 
 The charge against Mr. Drew was, that he preached the im- 
 puted righteousness of Christ. How he held the tenet, the 
 superintendant did not inquire. No man insisted more strenu- 
 ously than Mr. Drew, that the genuineness of faith must be at- 
 tested by a holy life : — as superseding moral obligation, in any 
 form ; he could not, therefore, have understood it. His views 
 then, and always were, tliat the perfect obedience or right- 
 eousness of the Saviour gave an infinite value to that sacrifice 
 which, appropriated by living faith, forms the ground of a sin- 
 ner's acceptance with his Maker. Such, unquestionably, were 
 the views of Mr. Wesley ; in proof of which Mr. Drew some- 
 times quoted those verses in his collection of hymns : — 
 
 " Jesus, thy Ibood and righteousness, 
 My beauty are, my richest dress : 
 Mid flaming worlds, in these arrayed, 
 With joy shall I lift up my head." 
 
 " Thy righte'cQsness wearing, and cleansed by thy blood. 
 Bold shall th» v appear in the presence' of God." 
 
 Mr. Drew, many years afterward, told a friend, that the 
 substance of the affair was as follows : — " When I began to 
 
72 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 think, I found that many words and phrases common in our 
 pulpits, if not positively absurd, would not bear a strict inves- 
 tigation ; I therefore discarded them, and used terms suited to 
 my own ideas. Some good people, to whom these were en- 
 tirely new, and who never took the trouble to consider them, 
 thought they must be erroneoiis, because they were not in 
 ordinary use." 
 
 An Independent congregation had, a few years previously, 
 been estabiishud in St. Austell. As soon as it was known that 
 Mr. D. had refused to resume his offices among the Methodists, 
 application was made to him to become either their pastor, or 
 their occasional minister. This proposal he declined ; alledging 
 that, though supposed to hold Calvinistic tenets, nothing could 
 be farther from his sentiments than some of the doctrines that 
 Calvin taught. 
 
 At the local preacliers' meeting which followed his dismissal, 
 the subject was investigated ; his views were pronounced cor- 
 rect ; and, by a unanimous vote, he was solicited again to 
 preach. With this request, seconded as it was by the general 
 voice of the people, he complied, and continued to labour 
 acceptably as a preacher, until within a few weeks of his de- 
 cease. Though he was repeatedly requested to resume the 
 charge of a class, he did not accept the office, until some years 
 after his removal from Cornwall. In directing the affairs of 
 the society he still assisted ; and, contrary to the usages of 
 Methodism, was desired always to attend the leaders' meetings, 
 and to speak and vote as a leader. This he coniinued to do, 
 until, nearly thirty years afterward, he was reminded by a 
 siiperintendant preacher, from whose opinion on a proposed 
 measure he dissented, that he had no right to speak or be 
 present. 
 
 The circumstance which we have narrated was not without 
 its effect in forming Mr. Drew's character. Towards the prin- 
 cipals in the business he felt no resentment ; believing their 
 intentions to be good, however injudicious tlie means they 
 adopted. It was a lessf)n for life. Thenceforward he felt a 
 settled dislike to the exhibition of arbitrary power. 
 
 A few domestic incidents related by his sister, place the 
 softer features of his character in a very pleasii g light. 
 
 One of his maxims was, " Be just before yea are generous." 
 This, in the year of his commencing busin .^ss, when he was 
 trading on a borrowed capital, and iiad eno- gh to do "to make 
 life struggle," imposed a restraint upon hi . benevolent disposi- 
 
TRAITS or CHABACTEK. 
 
 73 
 
 lion which he at one time thus evaded. Before he was for- 
 mally appointed as a local preacher, he officiated, as is com- 
 mon among the Methodists, at meetings for prayer in the neigh- 
 bouring villages, and sometimes gave an exhortation. After 
 attending a meeting of this kind, he said to his sister, " The 
 people at the place where I have been, very kindly invited rae 
 to dinner : and I may now honestly give away my own. 
 Bring out what meat you have left, cut from it as much as you 
 
 think I should have eaten, and carry it to Alice H ," a 
 
 very poor woman for whom he had a great respect. 
 
 In the following year, when he was free from the world but 
 still poor enough, owing to some misunderstanding with the 
 circuit stewards, one of the preachers then in the circuit was 
 placed in very trying circumstances, and his amiable wife and 
 family wanted necessaries. One market day, Mr. Drew said 
 to his sister, " I was just now over in the market, and saw 
 
 Mrs. L , the preacher's wife, with an empty basket on 
 
 one arm, and a child on the other, looking wistfully at the 
 butchers' stalls. I guessed, from her manner, that she had no 
 money, and was ashamed to ask credit ; so, as I passed her, I 
 put half-a-crown in her hand. The good woman was so 
 affected, that she burst into tears ; and I could not help crying 
 for company." 
 
 His sister relates, that, about the same time, the family of a 
 labouring man in the town being seized with fever, and suf- 
 fering great privation in consequence, he desired her to send 
 them what she thought could be spared from his cupboard, but 
 on no account to enter the house, lest she should take the infec- 
 tion. " I ventured," she says, " on this point to disobey ; 
 and going thither, in company with a female friend, saw such a 
 scene of distress as I could scarcely have imagined. They 
 had but one room, and one bed. In the bed were the mother 
 and one child, ill ; across the foot lay a bigger boy, just recov- 
 ering; and in a washing tray, beside the bed, was another — 
 dead. Not being parishioners, they wpre left to shift for them- 
 selves, witliout attendance (except what the father could give 
 when not at his labour) — without fire — and almost without 
 food. Having informed my brother where I had been, and 
 what I saw, he said to me, ' Since you have disobeyed my 
 orders in going, you shall, as a punishment, go again, and 
 carry the family every thing in our house that you think they 
 can want. We'll trust Providence for a supply.' My brother's 
 means being unequal to his generous intentions, he made the 
 G 
 
74 
 
 tlFE OF BAMUEL DRE-VT. 
 
 case known to some of his acquaintances, and the family wai 
 relieved. 
 
 " A cousin of ours, a widow, who resided twenty or thirty 
 miles from St. Austell, was much reduced in circumstances 
 through sickness. She wrote to my brother, begging the loan 
 of five pounds ; and stated as a reason, that, if he could part 
 with such a sum, it would enable her to begin some business, 
 which she mentioned, and maintain her family. * Now,' said 
 he to me, ' what can I do ? To me five pounds is a serious 
 sum, and one that I can ill spare ; but, perhaps, if I refuse, I 
 shall deprive my relative of the only opportunity she may have 
 of providing for her children. It will never be in her power to 
 repay me. I will not lend her five pounds, but will give her 
 the money.' 
 
 " My brother's sensibilities were not confined to his own 
 species. He could not witness suffering in any creature with- 
 out seeking its relief. A poor, half-starved dog one day pre- 
 sented itself at our door, as if knowing instinctively that it was 
 a friend's house. Seeing the dog, he desired me to give it 
 some meat, which it ate with a voracious appetite. Where it 
 lodged at night we could not tell ; but for a long time it came 
 just at the same hour for its daily dole. We had missed it 
 some weeks, when my brother, calling me to the door, and 
 pointing at a fine, sleek animal that was passing with a gentle- 
 man, asked me if I knew it; and on my answering ' No,' he said, 
 with a gesture of satisfaction, ' Thai's the very dog we relieved ; 
 and he has found his master.'" 
 
 Mr. Drew has been known, at this period of his life, when 
 in the ordinary way of judging, he could badly afford it, fre- 
 quently to give half-a-guinea, and sometimes a guinea, to a 
 family in distress. Though he always examined before he 
 relieved, and often detected imposture, yet from a tale of woe 
 he never turned away with indiff'erence. His charily knew no 
 other limit than his ability ; and he has been seen to weep when 
 he had nothing to bestow. These things are not related for 
 the purpose of eulogy, but to justify the opinion of his most 
 intimate friends, that, at this early period, with the understanding 
 of a philosopher he possessed the heart of a Christian. 
 
 Business continuing to increase, Mr. D. found his premises 
 too confined. A better shop became vacant, but his prudential 
 maxims made him hesitate to take it. He looked at the premises, 
 and made inquiries, witliout coming to a decision. A very 
 intimate friend came one evening into his house, and, not finding 
 
HS RENOTINCES POLITICS. 
 
 75 
 
 him at home, said to his sister, "There has been a person 
 inquiring about yonder house : — if you brother wait till to- 
 morrow, he may be too late." Snatching up a shoe, he ran 
 out, and quickly returned, saying that he had secured the prem- 
 ises for his friend. When Mr. D. learned what had been done, 
 he expressed his fears that the additional rent might embarrass 
 him, and hinted something about the possibility of imprison- 
 ment. Have no fears on that account," his friend replied. 
 " While Richard Libby has money in his purse, Samuel Drew 
 •hall never go to prison for the want of it." 
 
 During the American war, and long afterward, every one 
 was a politician. According to his own account of his juvenile 
 days, the subject of our narrative was quite on the side of the 
 Americans ; and it does not appear that his sentiments on this 
 matter had hitherto undergone any alteration. The person 
 just named emigrated to America ; and alluding, in one of his 
 letters to Mr. Drew, to his own suspected character of repub- 
 lican, observes, " You were as deep in the mud as I in the 
 mire." There was a danger, at the time of which we now 
 write, about the year 1789 or 1790, of political discussion 
 occupying Mr. Drew's attention, to the exclusion or detriment 
 of his more important mental occupations. From this hazard 
 he was preserved, by an incident which he has often related. 
 
 A friend one day remarked to him, " Mr. Drew, more than 
 once I have heard you quote that expression, — 
 
 • Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.' 
 
 You quote it as being true ; but how are we to understand 
 it ?" — " I can give you," replied Mr. D., " an instance from my 
 own experience. When I began business I was a great politi- 
 cian. My master's shop had been a chosen place for political 
 discussion ; and there, I suppose, I acquired my fondness for 
 «uch debates. For the first year I had too much to do and to 
 think about, to indulge ^my propensity for politics ; but after 
 getting a little ahead in the world, I began to dip into these 
 matters again. Very soon, I entered as deeply into newspaper 
 argument as if my livelihood depended on it ; my shop was 
 often filled with loungers, who came to canvass public meas- 
 ures; and now and then I went into my neighbours' houses 
 on a similar errand. This encroached on my time ; and I 
 found it necessary sometimes to work till midnight, to make 
 up for the hours I lost. One night, after my shutters were 
 closed, and I was busily employed, some little urchin who was 
 
78 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 passing the street put his mouth to the key-hole of the door 
 and, with a shrill pipe, called out, 'Shoemaker! shoemaker! 
 work by night, and run about by day 1' " — " And did you," in- 
 quired the friend, " pursue the boy with j'our stirrup, to chas- 
 tise him for his insolence?" — " No, no," replied Mr. Drew. 
 " Had a pistol been fired ofl" at my ear, I could not have been 
 more dismayed or confounded. I dropped my work, saying to 
 myself, ' True, true ! but you shall never have that to say of 
 me again !' I have never forgotten it ; and while I recollect any 
 thing I never shall. To me it was as the voice of God, and 
 it has been a word in season throughout my life. I learned 
 from it, not to leave till to-morrow the work of to-day, or to idle 
 when I ought to be working. From that time, I turned over a 
 new leaf. I ceased to venture on the restless sea of politics, or 
 trouble myself about matters which did not concern me. The 
 bliss of ignorance on political topics I often experienced in 
 after life ; — the folly of being wise my early history shows." 
 
 In the lives of good men, indications of an overruling Provi- 
 dence are frequently discovei-able. The foregoing incident, we 
 think, may be classed among them. That it gave a colouring 
 to Mr. Drew's habits, and tended to the formation of his char- 
 acter, he expressly asserts. Its effects may be perceived in his 
 future history. Frequently has he quoted, as expressive of his 
 own sentiments, that beautiful apostrophe of Cowper, 
 
 " Happy the man, who sees a God employed 
 In ali the good and ill that checker life ; 
 Resolving all events, with their cflects 
 And manifold results, into the will 
 And arbitration wise of the Supreme !'' 
 
 Though all the circumstances of life are uuder the Divine 
 direction, and, therefore, equally providential ; yet there are some 
 occurrences in which this direction is especially apparent. The 
 prospective influence of events is beyond our knowledge : we 
 can judge of them only by comparison with the past. Whether 
 we stand by the fountain of life, or view its stream flowing 
 onward through an undiscovered region towards the ocean of 
 eternity, the circumstances which may determine its course 
 and its magnitude are to us unknown ; but, in passing from its 
 estuary to its source, we perceive the localities which gave di- 
 rection to its current, and the tributaries which augmented the 
 volume of its waters. 
 
TRAITS or CHARACTER. 
 
 77 
 
 SECTION X. 
 
 Traits of character — Mr. Drew's method of instructing his workmen, &c. 
 — His marriage — He purposes emigrating to America. 
 
 Having happily disentangled himself from the meshes of po- 
 litical debate, Mr. Drew was enabled, with less interruption, 
 to indulge his taste for literature and metaphysics. As h« 
 could devote but little time to the acquisition of knowledge, 
 every moment was fully occupied. " Drive thy business — do 
 not let thy business drive thee," was one of those maxims of 
 Dr. Franklin to which Mr. D. adhered ; and his example 
 shows that literature may be cultivated, and piety pursued, 
 without prejudice to our worldly interests. 
 
 " During several years," he observes, " all my leisure hours 
 were devoted to reading, or scribbling any thing which hap- 
 pened to pass my mind ; but I do not recollect that it ever in- 
 terrupted my business, though it frequently broke in upon my 
 rest. On my labour depended my livelihood — literary pursuits 
 were only my amusement. Common prudence had taught me 
 the lesson which Marmonlel has so happily expressed : ' Se- 
 cure to yourself a livelihood independently of literary success, 
 and put into this lottery only the overplus of time. Wo to 
 him who depends wholly on his pen ! Nothing is more casual. 
 The man who makes shoes is sure of his wages — the man who 
 writes a book is never sure of any thing.'" 
 
 To a person of Mr. Drew's sensibility poetry would present 
 many charms. The poetical works of Milton, Young, and 
 Cowper, he read with avidity ; and Pope's Ethic Epistles, 
 against which much needless outcry has been raised, were, early 
 and late in life, his favourites. Goldsmith was another of his 
 admired writers, botli in poetry and prose. The whole of the 
 " Deserted Village" was committed to memory, and some of 
 those traits in its delightful picture of the village pastor, he per- 
 haps felt to be not inapplicable to himself. At this period 
 
 " His house was known to all the ragrant train." 
 
 " It was, says his sister " a sort of asylum for foreigners. To 
 the itinerant trader and the wandering musician my brother's 
 G 2 
 
7S 
 
 UTE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 doors were always open. He delighted to converse with them, 
 to learn their history, and to gather from them such informatiou 
 as they could furnish about their respective countries. If ia- 
 telligent and well-behaved, ihey were generally invited to sit 
 at our table, and partake of our fare ; and frequently has the 
 Jew or the Italian left his box of valuables at our house as a 
 place of safety." 
 
 Though but a young tradesman, his punctuality and integrity 
 procured him general respect ; much deference was paid to his 
 judgment ; and he was frequently chosen by his neighbours 
 an arbitrator in their petty quarrels. In this office, his strict 
 hdnesty did not always accord with the views of the disputants. 
 Any thing which had the appearance of meanness or duplicity 
 he detested. " Now let me know the truth," he would say, — 
 " the whole truth. No matter Vvhat it is ; only let there be no 
 shuffling or prevarication. Be open and candid — tell plainly 
 what you mean — unless you do, I will not even try to under- 
 stand you." 
 
 A person with whom he had been very friendly, became em- 
 barrassed in his circumstances, and applied to him for advice. 
 After making various searching inquiries, he gave some direc- 
 tions which were too straightforward to suit the applicant, who 
 hesitated, and seemed confused ; Mr. Drew then said, " I un- 
 derstand you now. In plain terms, you want me to advise you 
 how to cheat your creditors. If that be the case, I have done 
 M'ith you, and you may leave my house." 
 
 Though thus inflexible, where truth and honesty were con- 
 cerned, he symj)athized with even the imaginary sorrows of 
 those who wished his advice or assistance, and was frequently 
 at considerable pains to mediate between contending parties. 
 He belonged to a benefit society ; and it used to be remarked 
 by the members, that when Mr. Drew attended a meeting, it 
 was always orderly, and the business soon despatched. 
 
 For the purpose of widening the road, a small portion of the 
 church-yard at St. Austell (the surface of which stands several 
 feet above the level of the street) was removed, and a new 
 burial ground consecrated. A poor woman came one day into 
 Mr. Drew's shop, bitterly crying, and apparently in great 
 agony of mind. He inquired the cause. She said, " I had a 
 child buried in tlie church-yard ; — they have carried it away ; — 
 and oh ! sir, I have been told that if we do not lie in the same 
 ground, we shall not rise together at the last day." He did 
 not ridicule her apprehensions, but endeavoured to show her 
 
ANECDOTE OF HIS WORKMAN. 
 
 79 
 
 that they were groundless. In this he at length succeeded, 
 and the poor creature went away soothed and satisfied." 
 
 We give another instance out of many, of his kind disposi- 
 tion. A parish apprentice was assigned to him, contrary to his 
 wishes. Having appealed unsuccessfully against the order, he 
 said, " Since I must have the boy, I will do as well for him as 
 i can. He shall be treated as my other apprentices ; and, if 
 he live to the expiration of his time, it shall be his own fault if 
 he do not enter the world in much better circumstances than I 
 did." The boy became one of the best workmen in St. Aus- 
 tell, and always loved and respected his master.* 
 
 Mr. Drew never inflicted immediate punishment on his ap- 
 prentices, however culpable their conduct. One of them hav- 
 ing acted very improperly on a Sunday, when his master was 
 absent, he was informed, on his return, of the boy's guilt, and 
 expressed his intention to chastise him the next morning. In 
 the morning, his sister, supposing that he had forgotten his en- 
 gagement, reminded him of it. " No," he replied, " I have 
 not forgotten it ; but if I had, your tenderness, my sister, should 
 have suffered it to pass unnoticed ; and I do not thank you for 
 reminding me. However, let the boy have his breakfast before 
 I correct him, or he will perhaps eat none." 
 
 Mr. Drew's shop was often visited by persons who were 
 partial to religious or literary inquiries. Among his workmen 
 and apprentices also, useful conversation and innocent mirth 
 were encouraged ; but the smallest infringement on delicacy 
 was checked, whether in workman or visiter. Whatever might 
 put modesty to the blush instantly roused his indignation. Phi- 
 losophical discussion, with him, had now taken the place of 
 political debate. When the conversation was between Mr. 
 Drew and his visiters, the men and boys acquired information 
 by listening ; and when the visiters were gone, he would fre- 
 quently ask them questions relative to the point discussed, and 
 endeavour to explain them to their capacities. 
 
 After a lecture of this kind, when Locke on the Human Un- 
 derstanding had been the text-book, and the particular subject, 
 the primary and secondary qualities of matter, one of the work- 
 men, full of the importance of newly acquired knowledge, and 
 longing for an opportunity to propagate an astounding doctrine, 
 posted to the public bakehouse, as the most likely place to find 
 an audience. Unhappily for his fame as a philosopher, he had 
 
 * Among Mr. Drew's letters, are several from persons who had been 
 his apprentices. Nearly all of them begin with, " My dear old masUr.'^ 
 
80 
 
 LIFE OF SABIUEL DREW. 
 
 either misapprehended or forgotten the proposition, that heat is 
 not a quality of fire, but a sensation or effect produced by it ; 
 and, pointing to the blazing fagots, boldly maintained that 
 there was no fire in the oven. 7'his was too heavy a demand 
 on the faith or even patience of the listeners. The point was 
 stoutly maintained by him for some time ; when his female 
 audience proposed to adopt that most convincing mode of rea- 
 soning, the argumcntum ad hominem. If there were no fire 
 in the oven a short lodgment there could do him no harm ; and 
 such an experiment would afford the most satisfactory evidence 
 to both parties. The man's zeal for science cooled down, and 
 he evinced a disposition to retreat — a movement which was 
 resisted by his common-sense listeners. They laid hold of 
 him, with the apparent intention of putting him in the oven ; 
 when, with the desperate energy of terror, he broke from them, 
 and made his way back to the shop, perfectly cured of his phi- 
 losophical knight-errantry. 
 
 Having in his sister so competent a housekeeper, and one 
 who identified herself so completely with his interests, no dis- 
 position had been evinced by Mr. Drew to change his situation 
 as a bachelor. He was constantly employed, and had not felt 
 the want of other society than that of his books, his sister, and 
 his friends. Yet, having acquired some celebrity in the neigh- 
 bourhood, it appears that though he had not thought on matri- 
 mony, others had thought for him ; as the following anecdote 
 proves. 
 
 One market-day a counir3--woman entered his shop, and 
 having completed her purchases, remarked, that she thought 
 he would be much more comfortable if he had a wife. This 
 he admitted ; adding, jocosely, " I know no one who will 
 have me." She replied, that she could very soon supply him, 
 and went away. Next week, to his great surprise, she came 
 again into the shop, with a young female, and said, " 1 have 
 brouglit my daughter, sir, for you to see if you'd like her." 
 Mr. Drew disclaimed all intention of getting married for the 
 present, and added, that he knew nothing of the young woman 
 or her family ; on which the girl, thinking it incumbent on her 
 to speak, said, " O, sir, but the trial of the pudding is in the 
 eating." He, however, declined the proposed honour, assert- 
 ing that he would much rather have the privilege of choosing 
 for himself in such a matter. After some hesitation they went 
 away, apparently much disappointed. 
 
 Whether this incident led Mr. Drew to place himself in a 
 new relationship is uncertain. It perhaps forced the subject 
 
LNTENDED EMIGRATION. 
 
 81 
 
 upon his consideration, and induced him to seek a wife. On 
 the 17th of April, 1791, when in his twenty-seventh year, he 
 married Honour, eldest daughter of Jacob, and grand-daughter 
 of Thomas Halls, a member of the first Methodist society 
 of St. Austell. In her he found a suitable helpmate — one 
 ready to second all his exertions — and an efficient substitute 
 for his sister's domestic management. Their family con- 
 sisted of four sons and three daughters. The second child, 
 a daughter, died when about seven years of age : the other 
 children have outlived their parents, and were all married be- 
 fore Mr. Drew's decease. His wife's immediate fortune was 
 ten pounds — a sum of great importance at that lime to him. 
 Three years afterward it was increased by a legacy of fifiy 
 pounds, which enabled him advantageously to extend his busi- 
 ness. He was now the respectable, intelligent tradesman. 
 Authorship was far from his thoughts ; yet he was known to 
 his neighbours as a reading, thinking man, capable of talking 
 upon most ordinary subjects ; and he had attained a degree of 
 local popularity as a preacher. 
 
 Soon after his marriage several of his acquaintances emi- 
 grated to America. The reports which they sent home were 
 in general very flattering ; and many individuals and families in 
 and about St. Austell were induced, in consequence, to seek 
 their fortunes in the New World. The political and religious 
 freedom of the Americans had long been an object of Mr. 
 Drew's admiration. His old attachments and prepossessions 
 were now revived by the letters and invitations of his friends : 
 and he appears to have felt a strong desire to follow the tide of 
 emigration. He was, however, too prudent hastily to exchange 
 a certainty for an uncertainty. To act to-day and think to- 
 morrow was not his practice ; and having a business which 
 afforded him a maintenance at home, he resolved, before he 
 abandoned it, to assure himself, by minute inquiries, of the 
 propriety of such a step. To a friend in Alexandria, Virginia, 
 he wrote for information, in the year 1793 ; but fearing to rely 
 entirely on the opinion of one who had not been long a resi- 
 dent, and who might be induced to exhibit the favourable side 
 of the picture that he might draw his old acquaintances about 
 him, by the same conveyance he addressed a formal letter of 
 inquiry to the official members of the Methodist society in 
 that place. Their reply was quite as favourable to emigration 
 as the statements of his friend. 
 
 Mr. Richard Mabyn, of Camelford, the early and constant 
 
82 
 
 LIFE OF SAMVEL DREW. 
 
 friend of Dr. Clarke, felt at this time, like Mr. Drew, an inclina- 
 tion to exchange Cornwall for the United States. Through 
 his business as a leather-dresser, he had become very intimate 
 with Mr. D., with whom he purposed entering into a partner- 
 ship in the New World. Mr. Mabyn's apprehension of cap- 
 ture, and a French prison, and his consequent reluctance tlien 
 to embark, led Mr. Drew to defer, but not to abandon his design. 
 Within two years it was revived ; and he came to the resolu- 
 tion of taking not only his family, but his father; and this in- 
 tention was not entirely abandoned until several years after- 
 ward. Its final relinquishment is intimated by one of his 
 transatlantic correspondents, who says, in a letter, dated in 
 1802, "I find by your last, that you have given over all 
 thoughts of coming to America, and I do not greatly wonder at 
 it ; for a tiling of this kind must be done without very nmch 
 thinking, or not at all." 
 
 In conversation with his children, at a later period, when 
 Mr. Drew spoke of being at one time on the verge of taking 
 up his residence in America, and even engaged in making dis- 
 tant preparations for the voyage ; he was asked what induced 
 him, after this, contrary to his usual decision of character, to 
 vacillate. " You may," he replied, " call it weakness or super- 
 stition ; but 1 have ever regarded it as among those junctures 
 of my life, in which the finger of Providence turned the scale 
 by an almost imperceptible touch. Goldsmith was one of my 
 favourite poets ; I had read his beautiful ballad of Edwin and 
 Angelina before, and admired it ; but happening, just at this 
 crisis, to find it in some magazine, I read it again ; and these 
 two lines, 
 
 ' Man wants but little here below. 
 Nor wants that little long,' 
 
 aeconded by my wife's disinclination for the adventure, pro- 
 duced sucli an effect upon my mind as led me to abandon all 
 intention of crossing the Atlantic. To these two lines of Gold- 
 smith, under a Providential direction, it is owing, that I and my 
 family are now inhabitants of Great Britain. The thought of 
 going to America did, indeed, occur to me some years after- 
 ward, in consequence of local distress and stagnation of busi- 
 ness. By tfiis time, however, I had lived longer in the world, 
 and had read and seen enough to convince me that America 
 was no Utopia. There were certainly, according to my views, 
 political imperfections at home ; yet imperfection, I was con- 
 
BIS XABLT COMPOSITION!. 
 
 83 
 
 vinced, would attach to every form of government ; and I could 
 not but appropriate Cowper's exclamation, 
 
 ' England, with all thy faults, I love thee still !' 
 
 To this were added other considerations of a personal nature. 
 Though I could not expect to accumulate wealth where I was, 
 I could maintain my family in credit ; and a removal to Amer- 
 ica could not be effected without exposing my wife and chil- 
 dren to the perils of the ocean. I therefore concluded, with 
 Collins, that 
 
 ' The lily peace outshines the silver store, 
 And life is dearer than the golden ore.' " 
 
 SECTION XI. 
 
 hlr. Drew's first literary compositions — His mode of study — Occasion of 
 his becoming an author — Remarks on Paine's "Age of Reason" pub- 
 
 l lished — First acquaintance with the Rev. John Whitaker — Favourable 
 reception of his remarks — Elegy on the death of Mr. Patterson. 
 
 The order of time having been anticipated, for the purpose 
 
 of throwing together those points in Mr. Drew's history which 
 stand in immediate relationship, we shall be enabled to trace, 
 with fewer interruptions, his literary progress. 
 
 His first attempts at composition, like those of most young 
 essayists in the paths of literature, were metrical. According 
 to his sister's recollections, the earliest effort of his muse was 
 a poetical epistle to her, and the next, an elegy on the death of 
 his brother. Then followed several short poetical pieces, to 
 one of which he appears to havs attached some value, having 
 expressed much regret at losing it. His next attempt was to 
 imbody poetical conceptions in language not metrically ar- 
 ranged. This piece was of considerable length, and was en- 
 titled by him " A Morning Excursion." It recorded in glowing 
 words, as his sister states, the feelings of a mind alive to the 
 beauties of nature, grateful for the bounties of Providence, and 
 imbued with the spirit of piety. None of the foregoing pieces 
 have been preserved, nor is their date determinable beyon^ 
 this, that they were written during the time of his residence in 
 St. Austell, and before his marriage. 
 
 The earliest production of Mr. Drew's pen that has been 
 
84 
 
 LIFE OF SAMTIEL DREW. 
 
 preserved is a metrical piece, containing about twelve hundred 
 lines, entitled, " Reflections on St. Austell Churchyard," from 
 which a short quotation was inserted in the third section of our 
 narrative. The MS is dated August 17, 1792, and from its 
 erasures and emendations, appears to be the original composi*- 
 tion. It is written in the heroic stanza, and has many excel- 
 lent couplets ; but, as a whole, is too defective in grammar and 
 versification to endure the lest of criticism. From a short pre- 
 face, which we insert as a curiosity, it is evident that the 
 author once contemplated the publication of this piece, though 
 on furllier consideration he judged it inexpedient. 
 
 " When I consider myself — my subject — my circumstances 
 — my situation — and my neighbours, I cannot think this apology 
 unnecessary. When this appears in a pubhc manner, I expect 
 some will despise — some ridicule — some pity — and some, per- 
 haps, applaud me for my undertaking. To please every one is 
 impossible. One objection will be (I expect) continually 
 raised — which is — you had better mind your work. It may 
 not be unnecessary in reply to observe — it had but little inter- 
 ference with my labour : nothing to its detriment : but has 
 been chiefly the produce of those evening and leisure hours, 
 which too many of my age dedicate to profligacy, wicked 
 company, and vice." 
 
 What gives the chief interest and importance to this poetical 
 composition is, its being, apparently, the embryo of Mr. Drew's 
 applauded treatise on the Human Soul. The major part is 
 argumentative — not unlike Pope's Essay on Man, upon which, 
 possibly, it was modelled : and several of the arguments tend 
 to prove that the soul is immaterial, and therefore immortal. 
 Such is the purport of the following lines : — 
 
 " What is the soul 1 and where does it reside ? 
 What gives it life — or makes that life subside? 
 Are souls extinct when bodies first expire? 
 Can death's cold lumil extinguisli heavenly fire? 
 First, what is life ? — Define the human soul — 
 That vital spark that animates the whole. 
 
 To form the soul do subtle parts conspire ? 
 Does action live through every part entire ? 
 Consists the soul of elemental flame ? 
 Cm high-wrought matter its existence claim ? 
 
 Now, if the soul be matter thus refin'd, 
 
 If it has parts connected or disjoin'd, 
 
 Then follows — what these propositions teach — 
 
 That some corporeal instrument may reach, 
 
HIS EARLY COMPOSITIONS. 
 
 85 
 
 And reaching there, its ruin may portend ; 
 Its death accomplish, and its being end. 
 
 This is no soul — for matter cannot think ; 
 
 And thought destroy'd would make the soul extinct;— 
 
 Since what has parts must be dissolved again. 
 
 And in its pristine elements remain." 
 
 Although, as Mr. Drew informs his readers, he laid the 
 foundation of his Essay on the Soul in 1798, it is obvious, from 
 the preceding quotations, and from other circumstances, that 
 his thoughts must have been directed to this subject at a much 
 earlier period. His sister says, that while slie lived with hiin 
 — long before his marriage, — he had heard of Plato on the Soul^ 
 and was very desirous lo procure it. Her words are ; — ",I 
 never sa«' my brotlier manifest more anxiety about any thing 
 than how to obtain that book. After some time had elapsed, 
 he came to me one day, rejoicing that he had found the treasure. 
 A person in the market-place having it among other old books 
 for sale, he purchased it ; but he told me afterward, that he 
 was greatly disappointed in it." This accords with an anec- 
 dote which is related of him. In his anxiety to possess ' Plato,' 
 he made inquiries for it at a bookseller's shop in Truro, with- 
 out success. He was never remarkable for bestowing atten- 
 tion upon his outward man ; and at this time, very probably, 
 his attire corresponded with his limited finances. There was 
 a singular incongruity between his unclassical appearance and 
 the book for which he inquired. This attracted the notice of 
 some military officers who were lounging in the shop. One of 
 
 ihem, thinking him a fair subject for a joke, said, " Mr. has 
 
 not got Plato, my man ; but here (presenting him with a child's 
 primer) is a book he thinks likely to be more serviceable to 
 to you ; and, as you do not seem to be overstocked with cash, 
 I'll make you a present of it." Mr. Drew thanked him for his 
 professed kindness, and added some remark, not now remem- 
 bered, which caused the military gentlemen to retreat with 
 precipitation and shame. 
 
 In allusion to the year 1798, he observes, " I had long be- 
 fore this imagined that the immortaliiy of the soul admitted of 
 more rational proof than any I had ever seen. I perused such 
 books as I could obtain on the subject ; but disappointment 
 was the common resiUt. I therefore made notes of such 
 thoughts as occurred, merely for my own satisfaction, without 
 any design of publishing them to the world." 
 
 From the year 1792, when the poem just noticed was writ- 
 H 
 
86 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 ten, until the commencement of his Essay on the Soul, no 
 particular circumstance of his literary life is on record. 
 
 During the former part of this period, he was intimate with 
 several young men of good information and inquiring minds, 
 who regarded him as their preceptor. One of them, who was 
 Mr. Drew's junior, in referring to this period, says, "Regularly 
 as the clock proclaimed the hour of leaving work, I ran to his 
 house, for the purpose of reading and talking with him. We 
 read and rocked tiie cradle by turns. I can see him now, in 
 imagination, standing and leaning on the back of a chair, as 
 he was then accustomed to do. when in earnest conversation. 
 I was a correspondent of the Weekly Entertainer, and lie was 
 my counsellor both as to matter and mamier; but I believe he 
 never wrote for that publication iiimself." 
 
 Mr. Drew's own description of his mode of study, at this 
 period of his life, is as follov/s : — 
 
 " During my literary pursuits, I regularly and constantly 
 attended on my business, and do not recollect that one cus- 
 tomer was ever disappointed by me through these means. My 
 mode of writing and study may have in them, perhaps, some- 
 thing peculiar. Immersed in the common concerns of life, I 
 endeavour to lift my thoughts to objects more sublime than 
 those with vvhicdi I am surrounded ; and, while attending to my 
 trade, I sometimes caich the fibres of an argument, which I 
 endeavour to note, and keep a pen and ink by me for that pur- 
 pose. In this state, what I can collect through tlie day re- 
 mains on any paper which I have at hand, till the business of 
 the day is despatched, and my shop shut, when in the midst of 
 my family, I endeavour to analyze, in the evening, such thoughts 
 as had crossed my mind during the day. I have no study — I 
 have no retirement— I write amid the cries and cradles of my 
 children — and frequently, when I review what I have written, 
 endeavour to cultivate 'the art loblot.' Such are the methods 
 which I have pursued, and such the disadvantages under which 
 I wri;e." 
 
 His usual seat, after closing the business of the day, was a 
 low Bursing-chair beside the kitchen fire. Here, with the bel- 
 lows on his knees for a desk, and the usual culinary and do- 
 mestic matters in progress around him, his works, prior to 
 1805, were chiefly written. The circumstances which led to 
 his becoming an author he has thus recorded :— 
 
 " A young gentleman, by profession a surgeon, had, for a 
 consideral)le time, been in habits of intimacy with me ; and our 
 conversation frequently turned on abstract theories, the nature 
 
OCCASION OF niS AVTHORSniP. 
 
 87 
 
 of evidence under given circumstances, and the primary source 
 of moral principles. He liad made himself acquainted with 
 the writings of Voltaire, Rousseau, Gibbon, and Hume, whose 
 speculations had led him to look with a suspicious eye on the 
 Sacred Records, to which he well knew I was strongly attached. 
 When Paine's ' Age of Reason' made its appearance, he pro- 
 cured it ; and, fortifying himself with the objections against 
 Revelation which that book contained, he assumed a bolder 
 tone, and commenced an undisguised attack on the Bible. 
 
 " On finding me willmg to hear his objections fairly stated, 
 and more disposed to repel them by fair argument than oppro- 
 brious epithets and wild exclamations, he one day asked me if 
 I had ever seen the ' Age of Reason ;' and on being answered 
 in the negative, he offered to lend it, upon condition that I 
 would engage to peruse it attentively, and give my opinion 
 with candour on the various parts which passed under my in- 
 spection. These preliminaries being settled, the ' Age of 
 Reason' was put into my hands ; and I proceeded in its exami- 
 nation with all the ability I possessed, and all the expedition 
 that my avocations would allow. 
 
 " During this period, scarcely a day elapsed in which we 
 did not meet, and turn our attention to the principles of the 
 ' Age of Reason,' which 1 controverted, and he defended. In 
 this controversy, no undue advantage was taken on either side. 
 An inadvertent expression each was at liberty to recall ; and the 
 ground was abandoned when it was fairly found to be no longer 
 tenable. The various arguments to which these colloquial 
 debates gave birth I occasionally committed to writing. 
 
 "The young gentleman, finding that my attachm^nf to Rev- 
 elation WHS not to be shaken, recalled the ' Age of Reason,' 
 under avowed suspicions that the arguments it contained were 
 more vulnerable than, when he lent it, he had been induced to 
 believe. He continued, for some time, to waver in uncertainty. 
 He had embraced infidelity, and hesitated to abandon the ob- 
 ject of his choice ; though he candidly confessed he was un- 
 able either to defend its principles or to avert the consequences 
 to which they must inevitably lead. In this state of fluctuation 
 his mind continued for some time ; until his suspicions were 
 transferred from the Bible to the ' Age of Reason,' and his 
 confidence in Thomas Paine was happily exchanged for a 
 more pleasing confidence in the authentici'y of Divine Revela- 
 tion. 
 
 '■ V/hen this alteration in his views had taken place, he did 
 not hesitate to acknowledge, that his design, in lending me the 
 
88 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 * Age of Reason,' was to proselyte me to the principles of in- 
 fidelity ; but that, being disappoinled in his expectation, his 
 mind became perplexed, and be soon found that his attempt 
 had produced an efl'e(!t the reverse of wliat he had intended. 
 Shortly afterward he was taken ill ; and after laugiiishing 
 for some months in a decline, his mortal remains were carried 
 to the ' house appointed for all living.' This change, and 
 this conviction, which, I believe, accompanied him to his death, 
 he attributed, almost exch:sively, to the causes which have been 
 assigned. His mind was awakened to deliberate reflection, 
 and directed to explore those distant issues and consequences 
 which infidelity does not instruct its votaries or victims to 
 survey." 
 
 Conceiving it possible that the discussions between the 
 young gentleman and himself upon the arguments in Paine's 
 book, might, if published, induce other Deists to question the 
 validity of their theological system, Mr. Drew put his notes 
 into the hands of Mr. Francis Truscolt and Mr. Richard Tref- 
 fry, ihen stationed as preachers in the St. Austell Wesleyan 
 circuit. They were men of discernment ; and they strongly 
 urged him to commit his papers to the press. Acting upon 
 their recommendation, rather than upon any idea which he en- 
 tertained of merit in his performance, he proceeded to prepare 
 what he had written for publication. The form of dialogue 
 was dropped, lest it should create unpleasant feelings on the 
 part of the young gentleman and his friends, and the " Re- 
 marks" being addressed immediately to Thomas Paine him- 
 self, who was then alive, were published as a pamphlet, in 
 September, 1799. We quote a few of the author's prefatory 
 observations, persuaded that the reader will feel their value: — 
 
 "In proportion as infidelity takes root in the mind, those 
 principles by which vice is counteracted will be eradicated, 
 and iniquity, founded upon sanctions of public opinion, like a 
 destructive torrent, will inundate the civil and the religious 
 world. I would not, however, insinuate from hence, that every 
 Deist in theory must be immoral in practice, because, I fre- 
 quently observe the contrary ; but I am satisfied that morality 
 cannot arise from the principles of infidelity. It is possible 
 for men to derive a practice from principles which Deism de- 
 rides, and to attribute the effect to causes which are incapable 
 of producing it. 
 
 " Deism appears to me to have but little to recommend it, 
 
REPLY TO THOMAS PAINE. 
 
 89 
 
 It claims its existence on the fancied inconsistencies wliich it 
 discovers in religious creeds, without having one original 
 virtue to entitle it to respect. It is a system of negatives, if 
 system that may be called, whose only boast is, that it dis- 
 covers errors in Revelation ; and hence assumes a title to credit, 
 by instructing its votaries to disbelieve. Under the influence 
 of this pure negation of excellence, it promotes its interests by 
 the irritation of those passions, whicli it should be the business 
 of our lives to subdue, and fortifies itself in the strange com- 
 motions which it contributes to raise." 
 
 It was this his first publication which procured for Mr. 
 Drew the notice, the patronage, and the friendship of the 
 learned Rev. John Whitaker, then rector of Ruan Lanyhorne, 
 a secluded parish, about twelve miles from St. Austell. To 
 this gentleman, well known as an antiquarian, historian, and 
 divine, he, by the advice of a friend, forwarded a copy of his 
 pamphlet, with a note of apology for the liberty he had taken. 
 This opened a correspondence, of which Mr. Whitaker's let- 
 ters have been preserved. Those of Mr. Drew, with one ex- 
 ception only, were unhappily, after Mr. Whitaker's decease, 
 consigned, with much other valuable literary correspondence, 
 to destruction. Mr. Whitaker's opinion of Mr. Drew and of 
 his performance is expressed in the two following letters to 
 him : — 
 
 « Friday, Feb. 14, 1800. 
 
 "Sir, 
 
 " I give you many thanks for the perusal of your pamphlet. 
 Your reasoning is clear, and your arguments are strong. You 
 have refuted that wretched infidel completely, even -upon his 
 own principles. 1 may, perhaps, send an account of it to one 
 of our Reviews. 
 
 " It gives me pleasure to hear that you are a religious man. 
 God give you grace to act up to the character, and give nie 
 too the same. Such a character confers more real honour than 
 all the attributed learnuig in the world. 
 
 " I, therefore, subscribe myself 
 
 " Your well-wisher and friend, 
 " John Whitaicer." 
 
 " Thursday, March 27, 1800. 
 
 "Sir, 
 
 " I could not find leisure, under a press of business, before 
 H 2 
 
90 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 this week, to read over again that phamphlet of yours with 
 which I had been so much pleased before. But I have read it 
 with such increased pleasure, that I have sent an account of it, 
 with high commendations, to the Anti-Jacobin Review. I 
 know not wliether you ever see this Review ; if you do not, I 
 will send you my copy of it for April, when it comes. But it 
 is a Review of very great merit, peculiarly opposed to the Anti- 
 christ of France. 
 
 "You are at full liberty to make any use of my name, con- 
 cerning the article, that you think will gratify yourself or your 
 friends ; while 1 remain, with very great respect for your 
 talents and your application of them, 
 
 "Your well-wisher, favourer, and friend, 
 " John Whitaker." 
 
 From a congratulatory note addressed to Mr. Drew by the 
 originator of the Cornwall Gazette, we quote a short paragraph. 
 
 " Yes, my dear sir, I have seen the Anti-Jacobin — and had 
 thoughts of putting you to the expense of a postage a week 
 ago, in the hope of being the herald of good news, but that I 
 doubted it might have outflown me. I congratulate you from 
 my heart — I am proud, too, of my good fortune, and (let me 
 add) of my penetration : — the man I have admired and praised 
 — the man alone, of all the religious professors around me, 
 with whom I can converse and correspond with ease and satis- 
 faction — the man lo whom I am indebted for numberless civili- 
 ties and real services — the man I have been accustomed to call 
 'my friend Drew' — that this man should be crowned in the 
 face of the world with the wreath of praise so justly due to his 
 talents and his virtues, must give real pleasure to every real 
 friend to truth and jusiice, but particularly to me. 
 
 "T. Flindell. 
 
 " Heist on, May 16, 1800." 
 
 Mr. Drew's pamphlets now appeared in rapid succession. 
 The flatiering reception of his first publication, and the hon- 
 ourable notice it obtained, enabled him to assume a station not 
 often conceded to a young author. Perhaps, too, he felt con- 
 scious of his powers, and not unwillingly availed himself of fit 
 occasions for their exercise. 
 
 His second publication was in verse. On the 25th of Feb- 
 ruary, 1800, Mr. Patterson, a respect aide tradesman of St. 
 Austell, was drowned at Wadebridge, during an unusually high 
 
EtECY ON PATTKRSON. 
 
 91 
 
 tide. About a fortnight afterward Mr. Drew published an 
 Elegy oti his death, of nearly six hundred lines. The circum- 
 stances out of which this piece arose gave it much local popu- 
 larity ; thougli its publication caused the author some embar- 
 rassment. A rumour very generally prevailed, that proper 
 means of resuscitation had not been used ; and Mr. Drew 
 having given currency to this rumour, by some allusion in his 
 verses, was threatened by the medical gentleman who had been 
 summoned at the time of the accident, with an action for libel ; 
 but the matter terminated without leading to such an un- 
 pleasant result. To his friend iMr. WhitaUer he sent a copy. 
 The reply, though laconic, was suflicient to deter him from 
 appearing again before the public as a writer of poetry. From 
 this reply it is obvious that the Elegy was published before the 
 critic on his first pamphlet had appeared. 
 
 " Thursday evenings April, 1800. 
 
 "Sir, 
 
 " I received your poem on Mr. Patterson's death, and thank 
 you for it. But I like not your poetry so well as I do your 
 prose. Your pamphlet against Paine is reviewed in the Anti- 
 Jacobin for April, and I send you the very Review for your in- 
 spection. You will return it to me by the bearer; and believe 
 me to be very much and very warmly, 
 » Sir, 
 
 " Your friend and servant, 
 
 " John Whitaker." 
 
 The letter which Mr. Drew wrote on returning the Review 
 produced the following acknowledgment : — 
 
 " Thursday evening. May 29, 1800. 
 
 " Good Sir, 
 
 " I have received my Review back safe and sound. I am 
 very glad to find that you like one article so well. I wrote it 
 in the fullness of my heart, after I had perused yom- pamphlet. 
 
 " As to reprinting this in London, 1 thought of the plan as I 
 was writing to the manager of the Review, but did not then 
 settle my mind about it. Now you have mentioned it, and 
 propose to make additions, I will endeavour to do the business 
 for you, by offering tlie pamphlet to the manager for his book- 
 seller. I shall have occasion to write to him in the course of 
 a few days, and will then make the offer for you. If he 
 accepts, I will stipulate for his sending you half a dozen, or 
 
92 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 half a score copies. And, in the mean time, I advise you to be 
 correcting and enlarging it. I will give you notice whether he 
 accepts the offer or not. In the present dearness of paper, I 
 am doubtful whether he will accept. 
 
 " With my best wishes for your welfare, temperal and eternal, 
 " I remain your friend and servant, 
 
 "John Wuitaker." 
 
 From Mr. Whilaker's reference to a second edition, as then 
 contemplated, the first must have obtained a rapid sale on the 
 ground of its own merits, and antecedent to the critic. For 
 unknown reasons, Mr. Drew, though frequently solicited, did 
 not reprint his Remarks on Paine's Age of Reason until twenty 
 years after their first appearance. They were then published, 
 with additional matter, in a small duodecimo volume. 
 
 SECTION XII. 
 Controversy with Mr. Polwhele and "A Friend of the Church." 
 
 In July, 1800, Mr. Drew published, in a pamphlet of seventy 
 pages, " Observations on a Pamphlet lately published by the 
 Rev. Richard Polwhele, Vicar of Manaccan, Cornwall, entitled 
 'Anecdotes of Methodism.'" The publication against which 
 Mr. Drew's artillery was directed, arose out of Mr. Polwhele's 
 controversy with Dr. Hawker, late Vicar of Charles, Plymouth, 
 on the subject of his occasional itinerancy. With the merits 
 of this question we meddle not; but the "Anecdotes of Meth- 
 odism" were a gratuitous and an unprovoked attack on a reli- 
 gious body with whom Dr. Hawker had no connection, and 
 who, as Mr. Drew observes, "heard the tumult of the distant 
 throng, but fondly thought that they had nothing to fear." 
 
 Mr. Polwliele had designated his statementsyhc/s, set them 
 forth with all the minulia; of circumstance, and deduced from 
 them the conclusion, that Methodism " has a tendency to 
 betray its votaries into every irregularity, and plunge them into 
 every vice." To permit such a publication to circulate uncon- 
 tradicted would have been a tacit admission of the truth of his 
 allegations. More than one friend of Methodism stood forward 
 to vindicate its tenets from such foul aspersions ; but their pub- 
 
CONTKOVEKSY WITH MR. POLWHELE. 
 
 93 
 
 lications, being anonymous, were insufficient to counteract tlie 
 effect of statements formerly published to the world by one 
 known as a literary writer, a magistrate, and a clergyman. Mr. 
 Drew, therefore, thought it his duly to interfere, on behalf of 
 himself and associates who hatl been so wantonly assailed. 
 
 Well knowing that facts could not be set aside by argumen- 
 tative process, he resolved to sift the matter thoroughly ; and 
 taking Mr. Polwhele's book, went through the whole of his 
 facts in categorical order. He resorted to several parts of the 
 county which Mr. P. had stated to be the scenes of his "Anec- 
 dotes," to investigate their truth ; and where he could not go, 
 he applied by letter to the highest sources of correct inl'or- 
 mation. The result of these inquiries he sums up tlius, at the 
 conclusion of his pamphlet : — " I have now gone through the 
 facts themselves, anil have given a specific answer to every 
 anecdote wiiich is worthy of notice. Out of thirty-four anec- 
 dotes, eight are false, of six I can get no account, nine are 
 misrepresented, five are related with the omission of many ma- 
 terial circumstances, and all the remainder are revised and cor- 
 rected. Perhaps I cannot conclude better than by adopting 
 Mr. P.'s own words, tiial ' such facts are likely to havb 
 
 MORE WEIGHT THAN ALL THE REASONING IN THE WOULD.'" 
 
 In this pamphlet, Mr. Drew pays little deference to his oppo- 
 nent's station in society. Anticipating an objection upon this 
 ground, he observes, in his introductory pages, " Whether an 
 occasion can possibly exist that can justify an asperity of lan- 
 guage, is a point on which my readers may be divided ; but if 
 an occasion be admitted possible, that occasion now presents 
 itself. It may be asked, why I have not made a more frequent 
 application to Scripture ? why my language is so severe? with 
 a variety of such questions ; to all of which I reply — Because 
 I address myself to Mr. Polwhele. 
 
 "Whatever opinion Mr. P. or any other person may form of 
 these pages, I hope all will have penetration enough to discern 
 that recrimination forms no part of their contents ; it is a point 
 which 1 have studiously avoided, and founded this pamphlet on 
 a principle of self-defence. 
 
 " The clergy, as a body, I respect and venerate ; and feel 
 myself attached to many from a principle of gratitude and per- 
 sonal obligation. To commence, therefore, an attack on them, 
 would be as wanton as it would be base ; and would be at once 
 to imitate and condemn the conduct of Mr. Polwhele. 1 ain 
 not conscious of having used a single expression which carries 
 with it a shade of disrespect to any man alive, detaclied from 
 
94 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 hitn to whom it is addressed. And sincerely do I hope, that, 
 should any expression occur which may strike the reader dif- 
 ferently from what it has struck the writer, it may be attributed 
 to inadvertency, or, in short, to any thing, rather than design." 
 
 However severe some pans of this pamphlet maybe deemed, 
 the closing sentence, addressed personally to Mr. Polwhele, 
 breathes all the spirit of the Christian ; and there is reason to 
 believe, that the wish which it expresses has been since, in a 
 considerable degree, realized: — "That you, sir, may more 
 maturely consider your evidences, and the mere illusions by 
 which you have been imposed upon, is my earnest desire; and 
 that, from a review of the whole, you may be convinced of your 
 error, and act accordingly, is my sincerest wish. Under the 
 influence of these impressions, I take my leave of the 'Anec- 
 dotes' and their author together." 
 
 This controversial publication, though of local and temporary 
 interest, caused, on its a[)pearancc, " no small stir," and a 
 thousand copies were quickly sold. From several letters, it is 
 evident, that, although the pamphlet did .not apj)ear until July, 
 the original MS. must have been written as early as January, 
 when it was submitted to the inspection of more than one indi- 
 vidual. Mr. Drew was apprehensive that what he first wrote 
 might be deemed libellous ; and this apprehension, seconded by 
 the advice of his friends, led him to throw his first papers aside 
 and write the whole anew. In a letter of Mr. Whitaker's, 
 dated May 29, )800, he says, in reference to Mr. Polwhele, 
 "Notwithstanding the friendship I feel for him, I stand avow- 
 edly opposed to him in his publications against Methodism. I 
 cannot, however, write against him ; but I wish to see him pro- 
 perly corrected by soine one in your line of life, especially if the 
 writer keep clear from Calvinism." This plainly indicates 
 that Mr. Drew had expressed some wish for Mr. Whitaker to 
 expose the fallacy of Mr. Polwhele's statements, and that he 
 had not then finally resolved upon doing so himself 
 
 On the publication of his " Observations," Mr. Drew for- 
 warded a copy to Dr. Hawker and to Mr. Whitaker. These 
 were acknowledged in the following terms : — 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " I thank you for your kind remembrance of me in your let- 
 ter, and the present accompanying it, of your pamphlet : I 
 thank you for the favourable opinion expressed of me both in 
 your work and letter ; but above all I thank you for your pious 
 
CONTROVERSY WITH MR. POLWHELE. 
 
 gs 
 
 ■wishes that the Lord may bless my ministry, and crown it 
 with success. Dear sir, accept my best thanks for this last 
 and best favour. May the Great Head of His church and 
 people hear and answer your prayers ; and may He graciously 
 recompense your prayers for me seven-fold into your own 
 bosom ! 
 
 " Respecting our controversy with Mr. Polwhele, I have 
 long since desired to forget it. His situation is too awful to 
 keep alive my resentment against him : and I pray never to re- 
 member him wiiiioiit connecting with it that precious doctrine 
 of the apostle, 1 Cor. iv. 7. But, while I say this, I beg you 
 not to suppose thai I intend it as conveying the least disappro- 
 bation of your pamphlet — the farthest from it. As an enemy 
 to vital religion he merits every line of it ; and you have done 
 exactly by him as you ought. But yet, as far as it concerns 
 our own personal comfort, I very much doubt whether the ser- 
 vants of the Lord, in a day like the present, are not better en- 
 gaged than in staying to notice the blasphemy of gainsayers, 
 while pressing on in their Master's work, according to that ex- 
 ample, 2 Cor. vi. 8. Perliaps it may astonish you. when I say, 
 that, under this idea, I have never seen, much less read, Mr. 
 P.'s religious jest-book of anecdotes. 
 
 " I very mucii regret that you should have kept back from 
 calling upon me when at Plymouth, through the want of intro- 
 duction. You certainly might have formed some opinion of 
 my courtesy by your own. Men of liberal minds must ever 
 be accessible. And 1 am so confident of this concerning you, 
 that I shall, without reserve, and without the etiquette of any 
 introduction, if ever I pass tln-ough St. Austell, make it my 
 business to find you out, and ask you of your welfare. And I 
 am not without hopes that this may be the case ; for, if my 
 dear friend Mr. Hitchins finds himself disposed to take charge 
 of my church, I mean (D. V.) to take his ; and then, in defiance 
 of Mr. P. and the whole phalanx connected with him, I hope 
 once more to preach in Cornwall, among the people, the un- 
 searchable riches of Christ. 
 
 " In the interim, dear sir, I commit and commend you to 
 God, and to the word of His grace, which is able to build you 
 up, and to give you an inheritance among all them that are 
 sanctified. 
 
 "1 remain, in the best of bonds, 
 '• Yours in ours, 
 
 " Robert Ham kiir. 
 
 " Plymouth, Charles Vicarage, 
 August 18, 1800." 
 
96 
 
 tIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Good Sir, 
 
 " I have received your pamphlet, have read it with much 
 satisfaction, and return you my warm thanks for it. You have 
 answered Mr. Polwhele completely ; nor will he attempt to 
 answer you again, I think. Your acutciiess in reasoning 
 amazes me. I felt it in your pamphlet against Paine, and 1 
 feel it a second time now. On the proofs of it, in both your 
 publications. 1 congratulate you. 
 
 " You hinted in your last, you say, that you could wish 
 me to peruse your manuscript before it went to the press ; 
 but that the delicacy of my situation, with regard to Mr. Pol- 
 whele, would not permit you to press your wish. 1 re- 
 member that you hinted this, but forget why I did not reply 
 to your hint. 1 rather think I must have replied. I be- 
 lieve, however, that I thought, in delicacy to yourself, I 
 should not revise the manuscript ; that the work should be 
 all your own, for your own credit sake ; and that any trifling 
 corrections which I might make in it would take off more 
 from the character and influence of the work than what 
 they could possibly add to cither. Mr. Polwhele, particularly, 
 would have attributed the acutest parts of the pamphlet, not to 
 you, but me ; would thus have lowered you in the eyes of the 
 world ; and, if he quits the contest, have pretended he quitted 
 it to me and not you. For these reasons, I believe, 1 declined 
 to peruse your pampldet ; and I still think them good in them- 
 selves, as well as friendly to you. Yet I remennber, I felt 
 surprised, when Mr. Flindell told me he had got it for printing. 
 I aiTi glad, however, for the same reasons, that I did not see 
 you as you passed with it to Falmouth. I should have been 
 glad indeed to see you, and peruse it ; but I can now say with 
 truth, what then I could not have said, that I had never seen 
 it till I read it in print. You I shall be very glad to see at 
 any time. I beg, indeed, you will call on me the next time 
 you j)ass this way ; and contrive, if you can, to take a dinner 
 with me. I have taken an avowed part with you, and shall 
 continue to take it, against Mr. Polwhele. I respect his talents, 
 and have done him some services ; but think very differently 
 from him in theology. 
 
 * ***** 
 
 " I wish I could, with any propriety, do for your present 
 pamphlet what 1 did for your last ; by reviewing it. My situ- 
 ation is such, however, as forbids me. To do so, would be to 
 be known ; as I shoidd certainly be challenged, and (if chal- 
 lenged) would as certainly not prevaricate. And to be known, 
 
CONTROVERSIAL PAMPHLET. 
 
 97 
 
 •would as certainly bring on a violent quarrel between me, Mr. 
 Polwhele, and all his friends. I wish much to serve you in 
 this manner, — had even once (as I am naturally fearless) 
 resolved to serve you, but on cooler consideration see I 
 cannot. 
 
 ***** 
 " With every wish for your success, in business and in pub- 
 lications, I remain, 
 
 " Good sir, 
 
 " Your friend and servant, 
 
 " John Whitaker. 
 
 " Monday, August 25, 1800." 
 
 Generous minds harbour no resentment. As Mr. Whitaker 
 had predicted, Mr. Polwhele vvas content to let the matter 
 drop, and to forbear any further direct attack on the Metho- 
 dists. He had learned to respect the abilities and the motives 
 of his antagonist ; and Mr. Drew, as far as he was personally 
 concerned, was ready, on the first indication of friendly over- 
 ture, to ofler the hand of reconciliation. By an act of voluntary 
 and unexpected magnanimity, shortly afterward, Mr. Pol- 
 whele made Mr. Drew his debtor ; and this led to a corre- 
 spondence, and an interchange of friendly offices. 
 
 Between Mr. Polwhele and Mr. Drew hostilities had ceased ; 
 but among the seconds in this warfare the controversial spirit 
 was not at rest. This, in the following year, brought Mr. D. 
 again into the field. 
 
 It has been intimated that several anonymous writers took 
 part in the Hawkerian controversy. With being the author 
 of one of these publications against Mr. Polwhele, entitled, 
 " Methodism tried and acquitted at the bar of Common Sense," 
 Mr. Drew was publicly charged, in a pamphlet of nearly one 
 hundred pages, by a person calling himself A Friend of the 
 Church. Allegation was considered by the writer as equiva- 
 lent to proof, and personal invective was freely dealt out to- 
 wards him on this assumed ground. To rebut this gratuitous 
 and unfounded charge, Mr. Drew wrote a letter for insertion 
 in the Cornwall Gazette, which his friend Mr. Flindell declined 
 publishing. In consequence of this refusal, it was printed, with 
 some additions, in a small pamphlet, to which Mr. Drew thus 
 alludes, in the postscript of a letter to Mr. Whitaker, July 27. 
 " Since your departure, I have been attacked by an anonymous 
 writer in behalf of Mr. Polwhele, who charges me with a pam- 
 
98 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUFL DKEW. 
 
 phlet of which I am not the author, and makes that misfake 
 the source of attack. I have in the press a small pain|)hlet, 
 price fourpence, iu reply, which I expect will be out in about a 
 week." 
 
 Tiiis publication led to an overture of friendship from his 
 unknown oj)poufcnt, which, tlirougii some misappreheubion, was 
 afterward re tracted. Tu tins circumstance the following let- 
 ter of Mr. Drew alludes; and with it the controversy, as far 
 as he was engaged, terminates. 
 
 " To the ' Friend of the Church.'' 
 
 " St. Austell, October 26, 1801. 
 
 " Good Sir, 
 
 "I have lately received from you two letters, which, although 
 dictated by the sarne primary occasion, are evidently written 
 under very different impressions, and discover a mind agitated 
 by A conflict of opposite sensations. The first of these letters 
 is replete with civility and overtures of friendship ; but the 
 latter upbraids me witli a breach of confidence, and the guilt 
 of a most deliberate falsehood. The former letter, from the 
 concealment of your iiauu-, I suspected of insincerity ; and the 
 latter, by throwing oif the mask, has sanctioned my sus- 
 picion. 
 
 " 1 should, however, have replied lo your first, had not the 
 omission of your name defeated the de^ign for which it was 
 avowedly written. It lias been observed by Dr. Young, on the 
 nature of friendsliip, that 
 
 ' Reserve will wound it, and distrust destroy.' 
 
 If, therefore, confidence be necessary either to the existence or 
 stability of friendship, you have violated its fundamental prin- 
 ciple in your first overture ; and it is to this violation alone that 
 you have to look for that answer which, in your first letter, 
 you requested from me. 
 
 " Tiiat you, sir, have been ' the sport and prey of rumour 
 and conjecture,' your charging me with being the author of 
 ' Methodism Tried' is a convincing proof; and I leel myself 
 rather at a loss to conceive how you could so easily fall a vic- 
 tim a second time to the same species of imposition. 
 
 "If there be in himian nature that magnanimity which poets 
 have feigned, and which philosophers have attempted lo prove, 
 I doubt not that you will assent to the sentiment of Homer, 
 that — 
 
PACIFIC LETTER. 
 
 99 
 
 'A noble mind disdains not to repent.' 
 
 And I doubt not that j'ou will readily suspend those unfavour- 
 able iin[)ressions which that report has made on your mind, 
 and whic-h my present letter is (iesi^^ned to do away. Your 
 friendship, or that of any other gemleman, I should be am- 
 bitious to acknowledge, and solicitous to retain ; but such over- 
 tures as are revoked through error carry a presumption that 
 they are oflered through caprice, and leave the person to whom 
 they are made, and from whom they are taken, but little reason 
 to lament his loss. Whatever is held by a precarious tenure 
 sinks in value in proportion to its instability. 
 
 " I have not written this to renew hostilities, but to con- 
 vince you of your deception ; not to upbraid your credulity, 
 but to mark the folly of depending on conjecture and report. 
 It is for you, sir, after tlie reception of this letter, to say on 
 what foundation your letters stand, and to decide whether or 
 not I have acted unv.'orlhy of thai confidence which you have 
 reposed in me. 
 
 "To ask you now to reveal your name may, perhaps, be 
 imposing ' a task for liunian frailty too severe.' I shall not, 
 therefore, urge my solicitations. I will, nevertheless, frankly 
 tell you, that the avowal of your name is essential to the reci- 
 procity of that friendship which the concealment of it forbids 
 ine to express : I therefore sincerely say — Give me your nana, 
 and r will give you my hand. 
 
 " Animosity, sir, has never formed the smallest part of my 
 character in my conduct towards you ; and this letter will 
 convince you that I scorn to avail myself of those advantages 
 which your error migiii occasion. Should you, sir, think proper 
 to avow your name, if Providence spare me to take another 
 journey in your neighbourhood, I will do myself the pleasnr' 
 of waiting upon you ; when, I doubt not, a renewal of hostilitie.s 
 will (in a general sense) be precluded by a concurrence ol 
 sentiment. And would you, sir, act in the same manner, I 
 should esteem it as a favour. In the mean while, passing by 
 those mistakes and differences which will unavoidably arise 
 from the checkered state of human life, and sincerely wishing 
 you every blessing for time and eternity, 
 
 " I subscribe myself your well-wisher, 
 
 " Samuel Drew." 
 
100 
 
 LIFE or SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 SECTION XIII. 
 
 Progress of Mr. Drew's Essay on the Soul — Interview with Mr. Whita- 
 ker — Acquaintance with Mr. Britton — Essay on the Soul published — 
 Its favourable reception — Mr. Polwhele's generous conduct. 
 
 We now advert to Mr. Drew's more important work, the 
 " Essay on the Immateriality and Immortality of the Human 
 Soul," the publication of which placed him in the highest rank 
 of Christian metaphysicians. 
 
 Although he had received so many marks of kindness from 
 his friend and adviser Mr. Whitaker, and there had been a 
 frequent interchange of letters, yet, until the close of the year 
 1800, no personal interview had taken place. In a letter from 
 his friend and printer Mr. Flindell, dated October lOlh of that 
 year, this question occurs : — " Why do you deprive yourself 
 of the opportunities that open to you of becoming acquainted 
 with great characters 1 Go and see Mr. Whitaker, Dr. Haw- 
 ker, and all that fall in your way. Exchange a little of your 
 modest worth for my impudence. You love what is curious 
 and excellent, in art and nature. What is more curious, more 
 excellent, more to be admired, than wise and good men — the 
 noblest work of God ?" Acting probably upon this suggestion, 
 and recollecting the frequent and pressing invitations which 
 he had received from Mr. Whitaker, he called soon afterward 
 upon his literary friend. Tlie result of that interview, which 
 was mutually gratifying, may be gathered from the following 
 letter of Mr. Drew. It was given by Mr. Whitaker, as a lit- 
 erary curiosity, to John Britton, Esq., the well-known anti- 
 quarian and topographical writer, and was thus preserved. 
 
 " To the Rev. John Whitaker. 
 
 "St. Austell, July 27, 1801. 
 
 " Rev. and dear Sir, 
 " It was with the sincerest regret that I heard of your de- 
 parlure from Cornwall, and the occasion which rendered that 
 departure necessary ; and the same motive which then gave 
 me regret now urges me to congratulate you on your return. 
 
£8SAV ON THE SOVL. 
 
 101 
 
 •'You will, perhaps, recollect, when I had the honour of 
 spending a few hours in your company, some months since (in 
 which I never felt myself so completely ' awed into silence by 
 superior greatness'), that among other incoherent expressions 
 which I dropped, I hinted that I had revolved in my mind this ab- 
 struse and important subject — the Immateriality and Immor- 
 tality of the Human Soul. You gave me encouragement to 
 proceed. Stimulated by this encouragement, I returned home 
 and devoted my leisure hours to that subject. I had brought 
 it to the state of forwardness in wliich you saw it before you 
 went ofTto Bath, but had no opportunity of sending it for your 
 inspection. During your absence it has lain in a torpid state. 
 No human eye (but my own) has ever seen it ; and I have 
 reserved it for this purpose, — if it has any merit, Mr. Whitaker 
 shall discover it; if not, he alone shall Vvitncss its disgrace. 
 
 "To descant upon its excellences or defects would betray 
 a vanity which I would not wish to expose. I therefore send 
 it naked into your iiands ; and if I have not been deceived in 
 those ideas which I have been accustomed to associate with the 
 name of Mr. Whitaker, he will give it a patient and impartial 
 perusal. Were it in print, I would solicit mercy ; as it is not, I 
 now ask nothing but that candour which rigorous justice will 
 allow ; and can only say — 
 
 ' Consent, it lives ; it dies if you refuse !' 
 
 I would not wish to direct your attention to the anomalies 
 which float upon its surface, but to the solidity of its contents, 
 and to the rotundity of its figure. Mark those pages which 
 are inconcdusive ; and separate tiie ore from the dross. Pardon, 
 dear sir, the liberty which I take, 'i'he only apology I can make 
 is, that I address myself to a gentleman who has more than 
 called himself the friend of his friend and servant, 
 
 "Samuel Drew. 
 "P.S. — Should you recommend it to the world, I shall be 
 under the same necessity of soliciting you to examine the 
 polish of its surface, that I am now of requesting a deeper inves- 
 tigation. 
 
 " I had almost forgotten to observe, that I have purposely 
 omitted to give any title, till I have the result of your opinions. 
 The subject divides from immateriality to immortality at the 
 eeventy-ninlh page." 
 
 In the letter which follows, addressed to another literary 
 12 
 
102 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 clergyman in the neighbourhood of St. Austell, from whom 
 Mr. Drew had received various marks of kindness, the opinion 
 of Mr. Wliitaker relative to the MS. is intimated. It supplies 
 a vacancy which the loss of Mr. Wliitaker's own expression 
 of his sentiments would otherwise occasion. 
 
 " To the Rco. Philip Lyne, LL.D. 
 
 "St. Austell, October 29th, 1801. 
 
 "Rev. Sir, 
 
 " After a delay for which I know not how either to account 
 or apologize, I return you your book. A treatise of that kind I 
 had never seen before, but have found on its perusal a mirror 
 in my mind. I have found it of great service to me in meth- 
 odising and arranging my ideas, and in separating those ideas 
 which nature had made distinct, but which habit and prejudice 
 had associated together. In addition to that benefit which I 
 have received from the perusal of ' Dr. Watts's Logic,' I have to 
 acknowledge my obligation to Dr. Lyne, for his kindness in 
 favouring me with it, and for assuming that manly fortitude 
 which he has manifested, in noticing a person in my situation, 
 and complimenting with marks of approbation a man whom 
 sordid minds would shun with abhorrence and coniempt. 
 
 " You will remember, that when I was at your house, I 
 hinted ' that I had a MS. in a state of forwardness, on the Im- 
 materiality and Immortality of tlie Human Soul ; and that I 
 had reserved the perusal of the MS. for Mr. Whitaker.' On 
 his return from Bath, I presented it to him ; since which he has 
 examined and returned it, with an opinion which it would dis- 
 cover vanity in me to express, and ingratitude to conceal. — 
 Judge, therefore, into what a dilemma I am brought. If you, 
 sir, feel a wisli to peruse it, you have only to signify your desire, 
 when it shall be readily forwarded by him who wishes you 
 happiness in time and in eternity. 
 
 " Samuel Drew." 
 
 Guided by Mr. Whitaker's advice, and authorized to use his 
 name to any extent, in the way of recommendation, Mr. Drew, 
 early in the year 1802, issued his proposals for publishing by 
 subscription. These were received in the most flattering man- 
 ner ; and within a few months, his subscription list comprised 
 a large proportion of the nobility and gentry of Cornwall. 
 
 While the Essay on the Soul was in this stage, Mr. D. be- 
 came acquainted with Mr. Britten, whose name has just been 
 
ISSAY ON THE SOUL. 
 
 103 
 
 mentioned. This gpnileman was then engaged on his " Beau- 
 ties of England and Wales," and was preparing his "Cornwall" 
 for publication. Arriving at St. Aiisteli, he called on Mr. Drew, 
 as a man of literary note in the town ; and this call laid the 
 foundation for future intimacy and reciprocal acts of kindness. 
 Alluding to their interview, Mr. Britton says, in a letter to Mr. 
 Drew, " Believe me, I felt peculiarly happy in your company, 
 and longed for further conversation. I found your remarks 
 and suggestions replete with thought, and gladly observed that 
 you darted out of the commonplace track of prejudice and 
 illiberality which nine-tenths of mankind rigidly pursue." 
 
 In a letter to Mr. Britton, dated July 26, 1802, Mr. Drew 
 observes, "My work goes on slowly, but regularly ; about 
 sixty pages will be finished this day. I intend to dedicate it 
 to Mr. Whitaker, if he will permit. Seven hundred copies are 
 printing, and about six hundred and forty are subscribed for; 
 so that I expect to have but few on sale after the work enters 
 the world. I have been sanctioned, beyond my most sanguine 
 expectation, by all orders and ranks in Cornwall. I can repay 
 them with gratitude, which is all that poverty has to bestow. 
 The sanction of the Rev. John Whitaker has given me a celeb- 
 rity which I fear I cannot support ; and I have my doubts 
 whether expectation be not raised to be disappointed.'" 
 
 His book being nearly through the press, Mr. Drew asked 
 permission of Mr. Whitaker to dedicate the work to him, and 
 received the following manly and characteristic reply. 
 
 "Saturday, September 4, 1802. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " I received your letter, and perused your address, some days 
 ago ; but I deferred to write, because I wished not to write by 
 the post. I am, however, compelled to do so at last ; and I 
 now reply with my free leave for you to do as you propose. I 
 am always happy to serve you, and shall always be happy. 
 I might, indeed, object to some expressions of gratitude towards 
 me. But to object would look like affectation ; and I feel my- 
 self superior to all affectation. In that spirit, I wish you all 
 imaginable good from your publication, and subscribe myself 
 very cordially, 
 
 " Your friend and servant, 
 
 "John Whitaker. 
 " Mr. Samuel Dreic, shoemaJcer, St. Austell." 
 
 If the patron were above the affectation of humility, the 
 
104 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 affectation of gratitude will scarcely be alleged against the 
 protege. Never did Mr. Drew speak or write of Mr. Whita- 
 ker but in terms of the highest respect and admiration. "It 
 must be obvious," he says, " to all, that I stand indebted to 
 Mr. Whitaker for my literary existence, by his publicly avow- 
 ing himself my friend at a moment when recommendation or a 
 want of it must have finally determined my fate. 1 was then 
 in a criiical situation ; insomuch that a single dash of his pen 
 might have doomed me to perpetual silence and obscurity, and 
 made me feel an aversion from those studies in which before I 
 had so ardently delighted."* To no one, therefore, could he 
 have dedicated his book witli so much propriety as to this 
 gentleman ; and he made it a point to retain the dedication in 
 every edition of the work.. 
 
 This address, characterized by the reviewers as exhibiting a 
 strain of manly and grateful acknowledgment which reflects 
 much honour on the patron and the writer, can scarcely be 
 deemed out of place in our pages. 
 
 «' TO THE REV. JOHN WHITAKER, SECTOR OF RUAN- 
 LANVHORNE, COliNWALL. 
 
 "Rev. Sir, 
 
 " When this dedication meets your eye, it will be unne- 
 cessary for me to say that I am a stranger to all ingenious 
 modes of address, and that tlic polite arts of pleasing are 
 a species of learning which I have not yet acquired: btJt 
 silence is not justifiable, when gratitude forbids an acknow- 
 ledgment to be suppressed. It is a full conviction of your 
 favours v liich dictates to my pen ; and I intend nothing more, 
 in this adchess, tiian publicly to tell the world to whom 1 am 
 indebted, while I express to you the warm effusions of a grate- 
 ful heart. 
 
 "When, without patron or friend, I abandoned my first pubhca- 
 tion (Remarks on the first part of Paine's Age of Reason) to 
 its fate, you saw it floHtiiig on the stream of time towards the 
 caves of oblivion, and kindly extending the hand of unsolicited 
 friendship, rescued it from the shade. 
 
 "Under the forms of coinmon civility, yon have treated me { 
 with a degree of politeness to which my deserts can bear no 
 proportion ; while the condescension of your manners has 
 taught me to surmount that distance which learning and sta- 
 tion had placed between us. 
 
 * Essay on Identity of the Body. Address to the Reader. 
 
ESSAV ON THE SOUL. 
 
 105 
 
 " Superior to those local prejudices which might have influ- 
 enced a mind devoid of magnanimity, you have more than called 
 yourself my friend ; while, stimulated by your encouragement, 
 I have prosecuted with vigour the present work, which, ab- 
 stractedly from this circumstance, would, in all probability, 
 never have seen completion. 
 
 " Destitute of literary reputation in myself, and treated with 
 indifference by several of those whom custom had taught me 
 to call my friends — the link which united completion to publi- 
 cation originated also with you. 
 
 " Distinguished in the learned world as an historian and 
 philologist, the name of iNIr. Whitaker has been my passport 
 to many of my subscribers, to whom, without it, even pre- 
 sumption itself would not have permitted me to apply : but, 
 sanctioned by your approbation of my manuscript, I have ad- 
 dressed myself to the ladies and gentlemen of Cornwall ; and, 
 beyond my most sanguine expectation, their generosity has 
 crowned my application with success. 
 
 " Under these circumstances, duty is dictated by kindness ; 
 and I should reproach myself with that ingratitude to which I 
 hope my bosom will long remain a stranger, were I to omit the 
 acknowledgment of favours, where I cannot cancel obliga- 
 tions. 
 
 " The uniform attachment of .Mr. Whitaker to the cause of 
 Christianity, and his ability to defend her outposts against ail 
 opposers, have been sufficiently appreciated both by friends 
 and foes : the present work, therefore, approaches you by a 
 kind of natural right. But to proceed further in detailing tiiose 
 facts whiL-ii are necessary to make good its claim would look 
 like adulation : — in proceeding, I must hurt your leelings ; and 
 in desisting, I must stifle my own ; and, though I wish to be 
 grateful, I must be silent. 
 
 " To the nobility, the gentry, and other respectable inhabit- 
 ants of Cornwall I acknowledge myself to be particularly in- 
 debted for their patronage and support. Tiiere are many 
 among them who have interested themselves in the issue of 
 my present publication, whose names it would gratify my feel- 
 ings to publish ; but it is a liberty which I dare not take. — To 
 notice all the marks of attention which I have received, would 
 be to violate the bounds of prudence ; and to make selections 
 would be invidious and unjust. 
 
 " To them, and to you, this volume is now presented ; and 
 llie fate wiiich awaits it cannot be remote. Under the sanction 
 of your approbation, I shall feel tranquillity amid the severities 
 
106 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 of criticism ; and this reflection will afibrd me consolation in 
 obscurity, though forgetfulness should stamp her signet upon 
 my work. J3ui should a diflerent fate await it, — should it rise 
 into some degree of reputation, — this paper will bear tes- 
 timony to my consciousness of being laid under lasting obliga- 
 tions to my friends. 
 
 " That tliey, and you, in the regions of Immortality, may 
 inherit that glory which God has reserved in a future state of 
 being for them that love and fear him, is among the genuine 
 wishes of my heart. The influence of discordant motives, no 
 doubt, sometimes produces changes in the human mind which 
 baffle all calculation ; but, judging from those feelings which 
 have long been the inhabitants of my breast, gratitude and life 
 must forsake together the bosom of, 
 
 " Reverend sir, 
 
 " their and your 
 " much obliged and very humble servant, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " St. Austell, Cornwall, Nov. 5th, 1302." 
 
 Alluding, on a subsequent occasion, to this dedication, and 
 to other expressions of thankfulness from Mr. Drew, Mr. W. 
 remarks, " You are more grateful, indeed, than you need to be 
 for any kindnesses which I have shown you. I shall always, 
 however, be gratified in looking back upon them, if they only 
 serve to encourage and animate you to the writing such an 
 Essay as the present." 
 
 It was Mr. Whitaker's design to review Mr. Drew's Essay 
 in the Anti-Jacobin. In this intention he found himself pleas- 
 ingly anticipated, by a most favourable critique in the Feb- 
 ruary number of that Review, for 1803, — a critique proceeding, 
 as the following note indicates, from a most unexpected quarter. 
 
 " Mr. Whitakcr sends his kindest compliments to Mr. Drew ; 
 is happy to hear of his success ; and sends him an Anti-Jaco- 
 bin Review of his work. It is very strongly in favour of the 
 work. Yet, what is more wonderful and more pleasing, it is 
 evidently written by Mr. Polwhele. 
 
 " This supersedes all necessity for Mr. Wiiitaker's review- 
 ing the work. In the Anti-Jacobin, indeed, Mr. W. is antici- 
 pated, though he had bespoke a place for his remarks. But 
 the edilor, as Mr. W. supposes, thought the praise would come 
 belter from Mr. Polwhele, as a known enemy, than from Mr. 
 
ESSAY ON THE SOUL. 
 
 107 
 
 Vi\, as a known friend. And Mr. W. has peculiar reasons 
 for thinking that, the editor wishes now to oblige Mr. W. 
 much. 
 
 " Thursilay Evening, Feb. 17, 1803." 
 
 This act of genefosity on the part of Mr. Polwhele could 
 not, for obvious reasons, but excite a grateful feeling in the 
 breast of Mr. Drew. In his upright mind, to acknowledge an 
 obligation was ever esteemed an act of duty. He perused the 
 critique so interesting and important to himself, and then ad- 
 dressed the following letter to its supposed author. 
 
 " St. Austell, Feb. 26, 1803. 
 
 " Rev. Sir, 
 
 " If, in the purport of this letter, I have been misled, I hope 
 that both the philanthropy of the minister and the dignity of 
 the gentleman will conspire to apologize for this intrusion. I 
 have lately seen the Anti-Jacobin Review, in which my late 
 publication is so honourably mentioned, and so warmly recom- 
 mended to public notice : and it has been hinted that I am in- 
 debted to Mr. Polwhele for tiie iLiUering animadversions which 
 it has undergone. To pass by any mark of attention from a 
 superior without an rutknowledgment of the obligation is al- 
 ways more troublesome to me than an expression of gratitude. 
 Be pleased, therefore, reverend sir, to accept my warm and 
 grateful acknowledgment of the favour you have conferred 
 on me. 
 
 "To surmount those prejudices which local differences 
 miglit have occasioned is certainly a distinguishing feature of 
 an exalted mind. It is not in my power to make a suitable re- 
 quital of the service y()U have done me ; but it is the want of 
 opportunity which can alone prevent you from knowing, that 
 generous actions are not exclusively confined to exalted sta- 
 tions. Circumstanced as I am, I can only acknowledge my 
 sensibility of your favours ; and I beg your acceptance of that 
 acknowledgment from one who has nothing but gratitude to 
 bestow. 
 
 "Should the present letter be misapplied, I flatter myself 
 you will impute it to no improper motive ; and, in the con- 
 fidence of that persuasion, I subscribe myself, with gratitude, 
 " Your much obliged and humble servant, 
 
 "Samuel Drew. 
 
 " To the Rev. R. Polu-Me:' 
 
108 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 To this letter Mr. Polwhele thus replied : 
 
 " Manaccan, March 5th, 1803. 
 
 " It often happens, sir, that they who are placed in respon- 
 sible situations are charged with inconsistejicy, from no other 
 cause than their strict adherence to principle — to what, indeed, 
 may be called abstract principle. For, not regarding the con- 
 nections of society, they act according to predetermined rules; 
 and thus their public censures nuiy not be reconcileable with the 
 civilities that intervene, nor their public praise with past hos- 
 tilities. Such a scheme of conduct may, in some cases, be too 
 refined : but of its general outline a Keviewer, I think, should 
 never lose sight. For my own part, I can truly say, that in 
 this character I have always acted conscientiously. I have 
 not suffered myself to be influenced by personal or local con- 
 siderations. My report of your book was impartial : so, many 
 years since, was that of Dr. Hawker's. With respect to your 
 excellent performance, I was induced to review it from the 
 recollection that Mr. Whitaker, wlio would probably take care 
 of you in tlie British Critic, made it a point never to criticise 
 the same book for two different Reviews. The Anti-Jacobin, 
 therefore, remained for me ; and I considered that the early 
 notice of your publication might be doing you a service, to 
 which its merits luul an imperious claim. 
 
 " With tiie sinccrcst wishes for your welfare, both on this 
 earth and in that world to which you open to us such an ani- 
 mating prospect, I remaia 
 
 " Your faithful 
 
 " K. Polwhele. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew, St. AustelV 
 
 A few weeks after the publication of his Essay, and conse- 
 quently before the appearance of any public criticism, Mr. 
 Drew received from Mr. Kicliard Edwards, then a bookseller 
 in Bristol, a proposal to purchase tiie copyright, and was re- 
 quested to name his terms. Twenty Pounds, and thirty 
 copies of tlie new edition, was the total of his demand, — a 
 proof that he did not then estimate his literary labour at a very 
 high rate. On these conditions the bargain was ratified. 
 
 Through the valuable suggestions of the late Rev. Tiiomas 
 Roberts, Mr. Drew introduced many improvements into his 
 second edition, and antici[)ated some ol)jections to which the 
 first was open. Other alterations he subsequently discovered 
 to be necessary. Alluding to these changes, when writing to 
 
ESSAY ON THE SOUL. 
 
 109 
 
 a gentleman who several years afterward lent his critical as- 
 sistance in preparing another edition for the press, he thus 
 observes : — 
 
 "Though, prior to its publication, I submitted the MS. of my 
 Essay to my much lamented friend, the Kev. John Whitaker, 
 he suggested no improvements, he made no remarks ; he did 
 not even hint the propriety of dividing the work into chapters 
 and sections, as it now appears ; so that the first edition had no 
 other division than the two parts which separate ' Immateriality' 
 from ' Immortality.' He, iiowever, gave me his name in 
 writing, with his avowed opinion of my MS., and authorized me 
 to use it whenever I thought it would give me access to any 
 subscriber. The service whicli he thus rendered me I hope I 
 shall never forget. 
 
 " When tliis Essay was about to undergo a second edition, 
 a friend from Bristol suggested to me the utility of dividing the 
 work into chapters and sections. Tliis, for some time, 1 hesi- 
 tated to do, from a foolish notion that it would be an assump- 
 tion that could not be detached from arrogance ; and though it 
 was at last done, the work was republished before I had time 
 to reflect on the import and bearing of its various passages. 
 In short, I no more thought that it would ever have gained celeb- 
 rity in the literary world, than I now dream of being made a 
 doctor of divinity. I applied, indeed, to several of my friends 
 whom I thought capable of entering into the subject ; but not 
 one could or would impart the information I both solicited 
 and wanted. Notwithstanding the numerous acquaintances to 
 whom I was soon introduced, every one almost wanted me to 
 solve difficulties, to answer questions ; but none could 1 find 
 who would attempt to meet my inquiries, or correct my views ; 
 and I began to conclude, that, in point of assistance, I was 
 ' out of humanity's reach, to finish my journey alone.' " 
 
 The following letters show the friendly intercourse between 
 Mr. Drew and Mr. Briiton, and the kind interest which the 
 latter took in Mr. D.'s welfare. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew, St. Austell. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 "I have received your two long letters, and feel much 
 obliged to you for the information they contain, and the 
 trouble you have taken to oblige me. This day I have 
 also received four of your books, and shall give them to some 
 K 
 
110 
 
 IIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 of my friends for reviewing, and doubt not but most of them 
 will treat you as you deserve — by giving a high character of 
 the work. For myself, I can sincerely say, it has pleased, in- 
 structed, and surprised me. You have a mind that should be 
 employed on somelliing for tl\e head instead of the heds. But 
 many great men have been doomed to employ their hands for 
 a livelihood, when their heads would have obtained them a 
 fortune, if they had been placed in an advantageous situation : 
 — may you soon acquire this advantageous station. I am 
 sorry you sold the copyright of y9ur book to a country book- 
 seller ; for I had been planning a scheme calculated to be more 
 advantageous and important to you ; but it is now too late. . 
 Should you have any thing else in embryo, let me know, if you 
 think me worthy your contidencc. If I cannot do wonders for 
 you, I will endeavour to promote your fame and profit in some 
 degree. 
 
 " Your letters on the Cornisii Tinners have given much 
 gratification to some of my literary friends — and those high in 
 ' fame's fair temple.' Pray continue them — they will be ser- 
 viceable and pleasant to me, and 1 think they will prove ulti- 
 mately useful to you. 
 
 ' " But what I wish from you ^rst (and I hope you will com- 
 ply with my wishes, as they originate in a desire to serve you) 
 is some anecdotes of your life — your studies, pursuits, and early 
 modes of thinking, — and a short history of your groroing mind. 
 I want to pay a tribute to genius, and illustrate some proposi- 
 tions by living facts. Two sons of Crispin have obtained 
 great fame and some fortune by stretching their faculties; and 
 it is nobly proved that academic instruction is not absolutely 
 necessary to call forth the genius of a Giflbrd, a Bloomfield, 
 and a Drew — three shoemakers. I presume you /,now one of 
 them, and are not totally unacquainted with the other two. 
 
 " Have you seen ' Giffbrd's Translation of Juvenal's Satires V 
 ■ — Did you ever see ' The Mine,' a poem 1- — Have you seen the 
 ' Farmer's Boy,' by Bloomfield ? 
 
 " Let me hear from you soon, and believe me 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 " J. Britton. 
 
 " London, February 22d, 1803." 
 
 "St. Austell, .March 12, 1803. 
 
 "Dfar Sir, 
 
 " I wrote you some short time since, by post, a long 
 letter, which, I hope, came safely to hand. In compliance 
 
ESSAY ON THE SOUL. 
 
 Ill 
 
 with 3'our request, I endeavoured, in that letter, to give you a 
 few outlines of my life ; I doubt not that it has excited your 
 smiles, but I flatter myself, if I know Mr. Brillon, they are not 
 the smiles of hanghty contempt, but of sympathetic feeling. 
 
 "It happens, very opportunely, that this letter will approach 
 you free of all expense ; and I feel an unwillingness to let slip 
 the opportunity, even though I embrace it to tell you I have 
 nothing, particular to say. Mr. Grant, who brings you this, is 
 well acquainted with me, and perhaps can give you any little 
 information respecting my situation and mode of life. It is to 
 his brother (who is a surgeon) that I owe my commencement 
 of authorship. It was to combat the principles which he had 
 adopted that I made remarks on ' the Age of Reason,' and 
 afterward published them to the world. 
 
 " You ask me, 'Did you ever see Bloomfield's Farmer's Boy?' 
 I have, and admire it much, for that artless simplicity which 
 runs through the whole. I felt its force, from a congeniality 
 of soul, and from the knowledge which I have of rural life in 
 the most servile stations. Mr. Gilford's publication I have 
 never seen. I have repeatedly heard his name, but never 
 heard that he had written any thing, unless it be the reply to 
 Mr. Erskine. That I have never read, nor do I know whether 
 it be the same Mr. Gilford or not. I need not say to you how 
 remote the situation of Cornwall is from the seat of science 
 and learning. We know little of the scenes which are exhib- 
 ited on the great theatre of life. In this remote corner, and in 
 the humble vale of obscure life, the rays of intelligence are few 
 indeed. 
 
 ***** 
 " I hope when the reviewers give their opinion on my Essay, 
 you will write to me ; without your information, it is probable 
 I shall never know what they say. You see I have but barely 
 room to call myself your friend, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 " I am now writing on a piece of leather, and have no time 
 to copy or correct. 
 
 «' To Mr. John Britton, London." 
 
 A letter from Mr. Edwards to Mr. Drew, of May, 1803, 
 gives the earliest intimation that the attention of the late Dr. 
 Clarke had been drawn to Mr. Drew's writings. " The 
 editors," he says, " of the European Magazine have spoken 
 very well of the work and of its author ; and several sensible 
 men in Londen who have read it think highly of it, I learn 
 
112 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL PREW. 
 
 from Mr. Britton, that the Monthly Miri-or, Gentleman's Mag- 
 azine, Critical Review, and British Critic intend noticing il : 
 and, as lie thinks, will give it a good character. My particular 
 friend Adam Clarke lias promised me to read your book with 
 critical accuracy, and to write me his sentiments on it. He 
 has a high opinion of you and your abilities." 
 
 The " Essay on the Soul," the copyright of which Mr. Drew 
 had disposed of on the Icrnis just named, and vvliicii, before its 
 first appearance, a Cornisii bookseller had refused at the price 
 of ten pounds, after passing llnough four editions in England, 
 two in America, and being translated and printed in France, at 
 the end of tweniy-eight years became again his property. He 
 then gave it a final revision, added mucli important matter, and 
 sold it a second lime to Messrs. Fisher <fe Co., Newgale- 
 street, London, for two hundred and fifty pounds. 
 
 SECTION XIV. 
 
 Extension of Mr. Drew's literary acquaintance — He commences hi» 
 Essay on the Identity and Resurrection of the Human Body. 
 
 Mr. Drew was now become an author of established repu- 
 tation. In many of the literary journals his Essay on the Soul 
 had received unqualified praise ; and this praise he felt to be 
 an incitement to further exertion. His friends thought that he 
 had parted with the copyright of his book upon too easy terms. 
 Influenced by tiieir opinions, he was at first disposed to think 
 as they did ; but, on viewing the subject in all its bearings, he 
 felt perfectly satisfied with the bargain he had made. Un- 
 doubtedly, after the favourable criticisms on the work had ap- 
 peared, he might have taken it to a better market ; but both 
 buyer and seller had made a contract in ignorance of this, and 
 as a matter of speculation. To the promptitude of Mr. Ed- 
 wards in getting the book reprinted by the time public curiosity 
 was awakened beyond the boundaries of Cornwall, Mr. Drew 
 thought himself indebted for many of the courteous attentions 
 which were bestowed upon him by strangers and persons 
 of elevated station. He had already obtained the notice of 
 
LITERARY ACQUAINTANCES. 
 
 113 
 
 several literary gentlemen : a door was now opened for the 
 extension of such acquaintance. 
 
 In a former age, " a prophet was not without honour, save 
 in his own country, and in his own house." Mr. Drew's frank 
 disposition, upright character, and acknowledged talents pro- 
 cured him the favourable notice and kind offices, not only of 
 persons at a distance, but of those in his immediate neighbour- 
 hood. A short letter, now before the writer, shows the senti- 
 ments of a gentleman (then well known in Cornwall), who, as 
 a resident in the same town with JMr. Drew, was enabled to 
 scrutinize his conduct. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew. 
 
 " St. Austell, 24th March, 1803. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " When I returned from Menabilly, this evening, I received 
 your favour, with the second edition of your late work, for 
 which I return you many thanks. The additions and altera- 
 tions to this book are really great improvements, and must, I 
 think, give very general satisfaction. If my good opinion of 
 you, and recommendation of your publication, have been of any 
 service, I am very glad of it ; but I do not think it entitled me 
 to the copy you have sent. I certainly thought your answer 
 to Tom Paine the best I had read ; and, as a justice due to 
 your conduct and character, you had (and have) my best 
 wishes ; being truly, 
 
 » Sir, 
 
 " Your friend and humble servant, 
 
 " Chas. Rashleigh." 
 
 It would be easy to mention other distinguished individuals 
 from whom Mr. Drew received repeated proofs of esteem and 
 good-will ; but the enumeration might appear ostentatious. 
 We however venture to particularize one, not unknown in 
 political life, but still more conspicuous in the annals of science, 
 who, about this time, honoured Mr. Drew with his friendship 
 and correspondence. He had known Mr. D.'s name from his 
 writings : the incident which led to a more intimate acquaint- 
 ance may interest the reader. 
 
 In the village of Tywardreath, mentioned in an earlier part 
 of this volume, Mrs. Kingdon, Mr. Drew's sister, resides ; — her 
 husband being engaged in business as a shoemaker. During 
 K 2 
 
114 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 a long and heavy summer shower, a person on horseback, of 
 plain but genteel appearance, stopped at her door, and begged 
 for shelter. She offered him the best refreshment in her 
 house ; but he would only take tea with the family. Tliey 
 found him intelligent, though unassuming ; and he seemed quite 
 at home. AVliile his clothes were drying, he went into the 
 workshop, and made such minute inquiries about the business, 
 and showed so accurate an acquaintance witli its details, that 
 it was concluded he must be either a shoemaker or a dealer in 
 leather. In the kitchen he was no less inquisitive. The 
 stranger appearing to know every thing, one of the workmen, 
 who, emulous of Mr. Drew's fame, had been puzzling himself 
 about Greek and Mathematics, ventured to propose some ques- 
 tions — thinking it possible that he might get a solution of his 
 difficulties from tliis unexpected quarter. 'J'o the surjirise of 
 all, the gentleman entered upon these topics as matters in which 
 lie was profoundly skilled, and gave the inquirer, not only the 
 desired information, but a great deal more. Some one ex- 
 pressing admiration at his extensive acquirements, he said, "I 
 know a little — perhaps more than some of my neighbours — 
 and yet I was never at school in my life." The weather 
 clearing, he took up a slate which was at hand, wrote on it, and 
 with many thanks for their kind treatment, took iiis leave. 
 
 Upon liis departure, the question arose, "Who can the 
 stranger be?" After various conjectures, it was proposed to 
 examine the slate, and upon it was found written, " Davies 
 Giddy." The gentleman had given them to understand that 
 he came from the western part of the county. A neighbour 
 from that district, whose opinion was solicited, said that he 
 had heard of a " Justice Giddy" in the west : but the majority 
 agreed, that such a plain, unassuming, familiar person as the 
 stranger could not be z justice. Mrs. Kingdon, however, con- 
 trasting his learning with his statement that "he had never 
 been at school," was convinced that he must be a gentleman 
 who had received a private education ; and from tliis and other 
 particulars occurring to her recollection, she thought it possible 
 that her late guest, homely and affable as he appeared, might 
 be " .lustice (Jiddy." 
 
 After a few days the gentleman again called, on his return 
 from the eastward, and gave his address. Mrs. Kingdon apolo- 
 gized for the unceremonious manner in which she and her 
 family had questioned and conversed with him, not knowing — 
 what they had since suspected — that he was so much above 
 them in rank. To this he replied, that it had given him great 
 
LITERARY ACQUAINTANCES. 
 
 115 
 
 pleasure to be so frankly and hospitably entertained ; End so far 
 was their familiar treatment from being offensive, that nothing 
 would be more agreeable to him tlian its continuance. He 
 then inquired very minutely about her family and connections, 
 especially her brother, and noted down her replies. "I am 
 not ignorant," he observed, "of your brother's name ; for 1 have 
 read his writings: but it gives me much pleasure to hear his 
 private character spoken so highly of by one who knows him 
 so well ; and I shall endeavour to cultivate his acquaintance." 
 In this gentleman the reader will recognise Davies Gilbert, 
 Esq., late Member of Parliament for Bodmin, and successor of 
 Sir Humphrey Davy (also a Cornishman) as President of the 
 Royal Society, 
 
 Through his intimacy with Mr. Whitaker, Mr. Drew, in the 
 year 1803, became acquainted with another learned clergyman, 
 the Rev. VVm.Gregor, Rector of Creed, in Cornwall ; in whose 
 judicious and friendly counsel he found a substitute for that of 
 his kind patron Mr. Whitaker, when the latter was called into 
 eternity. A literary correspondence was also begun, which 
 terminated only with Mr. Gregor's lamented death in 1817. 
 To the libraries of Mr. Whitaker, Mr. Gregor, the Rev. Dr. 
 I/yne, and other literary gentlemen, he had free access, and at 
 their houses was always an acceptable and esteemed visiter. 
 
 At the urgent request of his friend Mr. Britton, Mr. Drew, 
 as intimated in one of his letters, drew up a brief outline of his 
 life, which, we believe, was publisiied in some of the periodi- 
 cals of 1803. In the early part of the same year, Mr. Pol- 
 whele, who was then preparing for the press his " Literature 
 and Literary Characters of Cornwall," not aware of Mr. 
 Britton's intention, made a similar request. Independently of 
 the compliment Uius paid him, he felt himself under too great 
 an obligation to Mr. Polwhele to hesitate about compliance; 
 and accordingly furnished this gentleman with the very pleas- 
 ing sketch which appears in his work.* 
 
 * Some individuals, who either knew little of Mr. Drew, or thought 
 nothing could be good that had not llie imprimatur of Methodism on its 
 litie-page, were very liberal in their cen.sures, because, in the narratives of 
 his life which he gave the world, no nienlion was made of his connection 
 with the Methodist society. Such persons should remember that his 
 auto-biographical sketches were prepared at the request of gentlemen who 
 wanted only the history of his literary life and "growing mind." No one 
 can imagine, that, after coming forward in opposition to Mr. PoKvhelo, as 
 the public and uncompromising champion of Methodism, he shrank from 
 an avowal of his membership ; and no one, who recollects how frequently 
 
116 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 His lowly origin and humble situation being thus made pub- 
 lic, the singular contrast which it presented to his growing 
 literary fame attracted much attention. St. Austell became 
 noted as tlie birth-place and residence of Mr. Drew ; and 
 strangers coming into the county for the gratification of their 
 curiosity did not consider that object accomplished until they 
 had visited or seen " the metaphysical shoemaker." Many 
 were the calls which he received from such individuals. How- 
 ever flattering this might be to an ordinary mind, he once 
 observed, when congratulated by a friend on his popularity, 
 "These gentlemen certainly honour me by their visits; but I 
 do not forget, that many of them merely wish to say that they 
 have seen the cobbler who wrote a book." 
 
 All his visiters were not of this description. There were 
 among them men of kindred minds, who sought his conversa- 
 tion for the pleasure it afibrded ; and there were others, of high 
 station, who to personal gratification added the generous wish 
 of drawing forth merit from obscurity. Of this class was the 
 Very Rev. George Moore, Archdeacon of Cornwall. In the 
 course of his yearly visitation, he called, with his daughter, 
 upon Mr. Drew; and a considerable time was spent in each 
 other's company, with mutual satisfaction. Some particulars 
 of this visit may be gathered from the following long and 
 friendly epistle of Mr. Whitaker's. One of the consequences 
 to Mr. Drew resulting from it, we shall have occasion to state 
 hereafter. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew, shoemaker., St. Austell. 
 '•Dear Sir, 
 
 "Your letter concerning the archdeacon's visit to you 
 has given me much pleasure. You too gratefully attribute 
 it to me. But you ought to attribute it principally, if not 
 wholly, to your own exertions. What I did was more to im- 
 bolden you than to gain you favour. Perhaps if you had not 
 been so imboldened, you might not have published. Perhaps, 
 too, if you had published, you might not have gained so high a 
 reputation so suddenly, if you had not been known to have been 
 
 Mr. Drew occupied the pulpits of various chapels in Cornwall, can rea- 
 sonably suppose such an avowal necessary. Had he been spared to fulfil 
 his intention of writing a complete memoir of his life, his conversion to 
 God and connection with the Methodists would have occupied a con- 
 Bpicuous place. We may regret, but vvc ought not to repine, that, as & 
 friend once predicted, he has left this task to his biographer. 
 
LITERARY ACQUAINTANCES. 
 
 117 
 
 so imboldened. Yet, after both these allowances, I must say, 
 you owe the notice that has been taken of you personally, and 
 the compliments that have been paid to you as an author, 
 principally to your own clear, close, and compact form of rea- 
 soning. And I feel very happy in having been oneof ilie first 
 to know you ; to encourage you in your undertakings ; and, 
 perhaps, to gain you what alone you wanted, a fair introduc- 
 tion into the world of readers. 
 
 " I did not go this year to the Visitation. Yet I wished to 
 go, in order to converse with the archdeacon, who is the 
 best scholar that I meet in all the west ; and to talk with his 
 daugliter, whom 1 used to call my sister-antiquary, as having 
 formerly endeavoured to furnish me with some antiquarian no- 
 tices. If I had gone, his call upon you, with his daughter, I 
 should have then heard from his own mouth. From your pen, 
 however, it gives me most pleasure, as telling me the arch- 
 deacon's conduct in full form. On tiie whole, I felt, and still 
 feel, equally surprised and delighted with it. The archdeacon 
 is one, I apprehend, mucli afraid of ihe very imputation of 
 Methodism. He has therefore shown the more courage in 
 visiting you ; and he will continue to call upon you, you may 
 be sure, every year, as he promised. 
 
 " I cor dially share with you in this, and every other respect 
 shown to you. But did not you touch too near the quick, when 
 you asked him whether he had seen your pamphlet against Mr. 
 Polwhele? In that controversy, I take it for granted, though I 
 recollect no evidence, that he was against you ; and with a 
 wary wisdom he now turned the subject dexterously aside. 
 Men not particularly marked with religion are always shrink- 
 ing with terror from the approacli of Alelhodism. The world, 
 too, in its zeal against religion, is always taxing any appear- 
 ances of religiousness above the common standard as Metho- 
 dism. And thus religion, like a snail, is always retiring, upon 
 any hand's approach, into the privacy of its shell. 
 
 ***** 
 
 '"I have been crudely revolving in my mind,' you say, 
 • another important subject, the resurrection of thehuman body.' 
 This is an important one. ' But whether I shall ever find lei- 
 sure,' you add, ' to accomplish my design, is with me a matter 
 of considerable doubt.' The sooner you begin, the speedier 
 you will finish. And remember, we must crowd our narrow 
 space of life with as much exertion of good as ever we can. 
 Then our works will follow us in full tale ; and I doubt not 
 but your works and mine will be republished in heaven, to 
 
118 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEI. DREW. 
 
 show angels and men what we did m our very infancy. You 
 ask me, however, ' What lliiiik you of my subject? Does it 
 admit of any rational proof, or must we solely rely on Revela- 
 tion for all our knowledge of the fact? This is a subject, I 
 must own, on whi<:li I have never thought at all. All I can say 
 at present is, therefore, this merely — that unassisted reason, or 
 (what is not strictly the same, as the use of sacrifices, so un- 
 accountable without a f dl supposed, clearly proves) the reason 
 of tlie heathen world, did never pretend to believe a resurrec- 
 tion. Indeed, the burning of bodies seemed peculiarly calcu- 
 lated to extinguish all possibility of a resurrection. The sep- 
 ulture of bodies, to be sure, carried the same conviction to the 
 mind ; j-ct tliis conviction was seldom carried to the mind 
 through the eye ; — it therefore operated with less efficacy. 
 The burning spoke to all the senses at once. I do not wonder, 
 therefore, that the heathens never supposed, when the gospel 
 was published, the possibility of a resurrection. And you will 
 have the higher honour, if, even with the lamp of Revelation 
 hanc;ing over your head, yet with the torch of reason held in 
 your hand, you can show even the jirobabiliiy alone of a 
 resurrection. 
 
 " ' It is on your judgment,' you add, 'I have relied for the 
 past, and to Mr. Whitaker I shall appeal for the future.' I 
 shall always be happy to render you any services. But the 
 difficulty increases with your success ; and the danger results 
 from your very victory. You must remember, too, that at pres- 
 ent my mind is much more conversant with antiquarian rea- 
 soning than with abstract, and that I am thinking more of 
 Roman remains in Britain than of human remains again uniting 
 into the same body. 
 
 " With my warmest wishes for your welfare here and here- 
 after, 
 
 " I remain 
 
 " Your friend and servant, affectionately, 
 
 "John Whitaker. 
 
 "Wednesday, July 19, 1803." 
 
 The preceding letter affords the earliest intimation we have 
 that the identity and resurrection of the human body had begun 
 to occupy Mr. Drew's thoughts. His mind could not remain 
 in a state of inactivity. Having completed the revision of his 
 first essay, a fit subject for a second speedily presented itself. 
 The transfer of his attention from the nature of the soul to 
 
RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 
 
 119 
 
 that of the body, and his manner of following up this inquiry, 
 he thus describes. 
 
 " The favourable manner in which my Essay on the Soul 
 was received stimulated me, in no small degree, to make new 
 exertions ; while the subject itself almost immediately induced 
 me to turn my thoughts from the hujiian soul to the Ituman bcdy. 
 I accordingly began to contemplate the possibility of adducing 
 some rational evidence in favour of the general resurrection. 
 But this subject I soon found was so inseparably connected 
 with that of personal identity, that, without investigating the 
 latter, I perceived it would be an act of folly to attempt the 
 former. This circumstance led me to connect them together 
 in my inquiry. 
 
 " In the complex view which the union of these subjects 
 presented, I saw, or thought I saw, a variety of sources from 
 which arguments might be drawn, all tending in one direction, 
 and uniting their strength to authenticate the fact which I wished 
 to establish. These thoughts I communicated to my friend, 
 w!io pressed me with tlie utmost earnestness to proceed with 
 the inquiry, whatever the issue miglit be. At the same time 
 he observed, tliat I must navigate the ocean nearly alone, as I 
 had no reason to expect much assistance, either from preceding 
 or contemporary writers. This observation I have since found 
 realized by fact. Encouraged, however, by his advice, rather 
 than deterred by his remarks, I immediately began the work, 
 and continued to pursue it through difficulties which were at 
 once inseparable from the undertaking, and heightened by the 
 disadvantages of my situation. 
 
 "A train of circumstances incident to human life occasion- 
 ally retarded my progress ; so that the period of its completion 
 baffled the calculations which I had previously made. Appli- 
 cation, however, succeeded to interruption, and perseverance 
 finally surmounted all." 
 
 Tlie familiar letter which follows, from Mr. Drew to his 
 friend Mr. Britton, will further illustrate this period of his life. 
 
 " St. Austell, September 19, 1803. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " I have been for some time revolving in my mind the reason 
 why the atmosphere of London should be more congenial to 
 forgeifulness than that of Cornwall. Whether the insalubrity 
 of the air — the subjects which lay an embargo on attention — 
 or the infinite variety of objects eclipsing all distant considera- 
 tions which have no other claim than abstract friendship — be 
 
120 
 
 riFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 the cause, or causes, I am at a loss to say. Of this truth, how- 
 ever, I am in full possession — that I have not heard from you 
 for several months. Perhaps, 
 
 ' O'er them, anil o'er their names, the billows dose : 
 To-morrow knows not they were ever born.' 
 
 " Since I wrote you last, I have had an interview with Mr. 
 Polwhele, from whom I received very polite treatment. He 
 has requested me to furnish him vviih some memoirs of my life, 
 which I have done. I keep up a correspondence with Mr. 
 Whitaker, and liave lately been I'avoured with the correspond- 
 ence of the Archdeacon of Exeter, wlio has promised me all 
 the assistance in his power to promote the circulation of any 
 future publications that I may feel inclined to send into the 
 world. 
 
 "In consequence of the numerous testimonies of approba- 
 tion which I have received from gentlemen of the tirst respecta- 
 bility, I have been tempted to venture on another important 
 subject, which I conceive will be of service to mankind. 
 I have laid the foundation of a treatise on the Resur- 
 rection of the Human Body from the grave, and have collected 
 a mass of undigested materials. The subject is abstruse, and 
 the evidences of tiie fact are of an obscure and peculiar nature. 
 Independently of revelation, probability is, perhaps, the liigh- 
 est point which we can attain ; but this, when taken into con- 
 nection with the Bible, will amount to the highest degree of 
 moral certainty. It is a subject on which few have written ; 
 and its nature, in conjunction with the few who have ventured 
 to embark upon it, will make me very scrupulous in submitting 
 my work to the public eye, if ever I have time to complete it. 
 Without the approbation of Mr. Whitaker I shall not presume 
 to send it into the world. 
 
 "What are you doing? are you publishing any thing new? 
 Have you nearly cotnpleted your present work, ' The Beauties 
 of England and Wales V Mr. Edwards, the printer to whom 
 I sold or gave away my copyright, is removed to London, but I 
 know not where to find him. I have been informed that he has 
 made a good hand of my late Essay. I hope it is true. I shall 
 not repine at his success; for, as Shakspeare says, 'He is well 
 paid who is well satisfied.' This is my lot and situation. 
 
 " Life with us furnishes little variety. Things go on in the 
 same dull round in which they have moved for centuries. 
 
RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. 
 
 121 
 
 Cocks crow ! Dogs bark ! CliilJren cry ! And rain and sun- 
 shine alternately checker life ! 
 
 ' So glides the stream of human life away.' 
 
 " The providence of God has blessed me and my family 
 with health ; and we enjoy happiness in ' the cool, sequestered 
 vale of life.' What can the wealth of both the Indies do more ? 
 But something always will be wanting to complete the felicities 
 of life. I now want time to pursue the natural bent of my 
 inclinations ; and perhaps, if I had my wish, I should feel 
 another, more troublesome than the present. 
 
 'Alps still behind the former Alps arise.' 
 
 The unsatisfied nature of man plainly says, that happiness, 
 genuine happiness, is lodged deep in futurity, ' beyond the ken 
 of mortal sight.' 
 
 " But I have done. It is rather late, and I grow tired. If 
 you can find a few moments to write me, it will afford me plea- 
 sure to rind I am not forgotten : if not, I am content with 
 wishing you happiness in time and eternity. 
 
 "May God bless you. Farewell. 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " To Mr. John Britten, London.'''' 
 
 To the Rev. William Gregor, whose friendship for Mr. Drew 
 we have noticed, he also communicated his intention of inves- 
 tigating the evidences in favour of the resurrection of the human 
 body ; at the same time enumerating some works which he 
 wished to read before he conunenced his undertaking. This 
 gentleman in his reply remarks, "I am glad to hear that you 
 have turned your attention to the subject you mention. I should 
 wish to see your own original and natural thoughts upon it, 
 unbiased by what others may have said before you. You have 
 peculiar talents and turn of mind, which you ought not to suffer 
 to be inactive. You are called upon to follow your natural 
 bias, when you may do it with credit to yourself, and utility to 
 others." 
 
 Stimulated and encouraged by the recommendations and 
 aluable suggestions of his literary friends, Mr. Drew applied 
 himself to his self-allotted task. His previously collected m<i- 
 terials he began to digest ; and committed his thoughts to wri- 
 ing. Before the summer of 1804 was ended, he had made 
 considerable progress. In a letter to Mr. Whitaker, as q^uuicd 
 
122 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 by that gentleman in his reply, dated October 24, he says, " I 
 hope, should God preserve my lii'e, to prosecute my work with 
 vigour during the approaching winter, that it may be ready for 
 your inspection some time in the next summer. It is to your eyes 
 that it shall be first presented, and to your opinion that I shall 
 first appeal ; and such is tlie confidence 1 have in your judg- 
 ment, generosity, and candour, that it will be only with your con- 
 currence that I shall submit it to any further appeal." To this 
 Mr. Whilaker subjoins, " I thank you for the compliment, and 
 will engage in the office. I have too great a regard for you, not 
 to engage in any offices of Iriendship for your benefit." 
 
 In the preface to his Essay on the Resurrection, Mr. Drew 
 observes, " It was about the close of the year 1805, that I had 
 in my own estimation completed the manuscript ; and I fully 
 expected that I should shortly submit it to the inspection of 
 my much lamented friend. For it was a resolution which I 
 had previously formed, that if it possessed any merit, Mr. 
 Whitaker sliouid have the lirst opportunity of making the dis- 
 covery of it ; and if it had noiliing that could render it worthy 
 of preservation, he alone should witness its disgrace. 
 
 " But here an unforeseen and unpleasant difficulty arose. 
 Preparatory fo his inspection of it, I proceeded to give the 
 whole a cool and dispassionate perusal, that in one view I 
 might take an impartial survey of the import and connection of 
 all its parts. In prosecuting this perusal, I had the mortifica- 
 tion to find that the arrangements were bad, — that my thoughts 
 appeared confused, — and that in many places the chain of rea- 
 soning had been broken by frivolous digressions and imperti- 
 nent reflections : — that in some places the arguments were de- 
 fective ; and in others, those which were good in themselves 
 were placed in an inauspicious light. Ou the whole, I sunk 
 down into a kind of careless apathy, half resolved to touch it 
 no more." 
 
 Having conducted the reader thus far in the account of this 
 literary undertaking, we advert to some other points in Mr. 
 Drew's personal history. 
 
LECTURES ON GRAMMAR. 
 
 123 
 
 SECTION XV. 
 
 Mr. Drew delivers lectures on English grammar and geography — Com- 
 mencement of the friendship between him and Dr. Adam Clarke — He 
 is elected a member of the Manchester Philological Society — His con- 
 nection with Dr. Coke, and relinquishment of business. 
 
 He whose cares centre in himself may regard with indifference 
 the smiles or the buffetiiigs of fortune. Relying on his fancied 
 independence, he may labour awhile to secure some temporary 
 gratification, and having accomplished his object, sit down, and 
 fold his hands in idleness. But when a man sustains the en- 
 dearing relationship of husband and of father, — when he knows 
 that upon his exertions depend the comfort and happiness of 
 many a beloved object, — he feels a new and powerful stimulus 
 to action. 
 
 To such a feeling Mr. Drew was not a stranger. Of him, 
 indeed, selfishness or misanthropy could never be predicated; 
 but those kindly sympathies which, before his marriage, ex- 
 tended to the whole species indiscriminately, were now, without 
 prejudice to the claims of philanthropy, directed especially 
 towards his rising family. He saw that a kind Providence was 
 opening before him a passage into a more respectable sphere 
 than he had yet occupied ; and he believed it a duty to himself 
 and his dependants to tread the allotted path, and embrace the 
 opportunities presented, of employing his talents profitably to 
 himself and usefully to others. 
 
 Influenced by these motives, and the solicitation of his neigh- 
 bours, he commenced, with the year 1804, a course of lectures 
 upon English grammar. His pupils were either adults, or 
 young persons advanced beyond the age of childhood. These 
 lectures, which occupied about two hours, were delivered on 
 four evenings of the week ; two being allotted to each sex 
 separately. The room in which they met being small, each 
 class was necessarily limited to about twelve persons. A year 
 completed the course of instruction ; and for this thirty shil- 
 lings were paid by every pupil. At two or three subsequent 
 periods he delivered similar lectures, to which geography and 
 the outlines of astronomy were added, as a supplementary 
 course. 
 
124 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 Possessing the desirable art of blending amusement with in- 
 struction, Mr. Drew rendered his seminary a place of enter- 
 tainment. His exhaustless store of anecdote, which was 
 frequently drawn upon to illustrate or enliven, and his happy 
 mode of explanation, rendered the barren study of grammar so 
 far interesting, that unavoidable absence from a lecture was 
 deplored as a misfortune. Between the teacher and his pupils 
 a mutual attachment subsisted, which, in after-years, when 
 these had become heads of families, c(uiferred upon him a 
 patriarchal character. 
 
 In a letter to a gentleman who, at a later period, wished to 
 place a son under his charge, Mr. Drew thus explains his views, 
 and his method of tuition: — "! have my fears whether your 
 son be not too young to see the value of tliat knowledge which 
 might be imparted to him ; and whether he will not, conse- 
 quently, be apt to forget what he learns. The human intellect, 
 undoubtedly, begins to unfold itself at a much earlier period in 
 some than in others ; but, generally speaking, from fourteen to 
 twenty-four is the most favourable tide of life. I have, at dif- 
 ferent times, had youth of both sexes under my care, to whom I 
 have taught the rudiments of grammar and the scientific parts 
 of geography, together with the use of the globes ; but I have 
 invariably found, that under fourteen years of age my pupils 
 have not made that proficiency which I could wish. I give no 
 tasks, and only on certain occasions use any book. I deliver 
 lectures, lay down principles, and get them to converse on the 
 various subjects which come under our notice. Having made 
 them acquainted with established rules, I then purposely violate 
 them in conversation, and make my pvipils, not only correct my 
 errors, but assign reasons for the corrections they give. It is 
 astonishing what proficiency they make, when they begin to 
 reflect and reason on the propriety of things, by this mode of 
 instruction." 
 
 In the year 1804 commenced that intimacy between Mr. 
 Drew and the late learned Dr, Adam Clarke, which quickly 
 produced a strong and permanent attachment. Their friend- 
 ship originated in a spontaneous act of kindness in the latter, 
 indicative of a great and generous mind. Being based upon 
 religions feeling, it was quickened by early recollections, — 
 heightened by mutual admiration, — sustained by proofs of recip- 
 rocal good-will, — and sundered, for a few months only, by 
 death, to be cemented anew in a happier state of being. 
 
ACQUAINTANCE WITH DR. A. CLARKE. 
 
 125 
 
 An imlifation that Mr. Drew's writings had attracted the 
 notice of the then Mr. Clarke will be found at page 111. A 
 gentleman writing to Mr. Drew, March 16th, observes, " Two 
 days ago I received a letter from mv friend Adam Clarke, who 
 mentions their having elected you a Member of the Manchester 
 Philological Society, and says he wishes to encourage you in 
 your literary pursuits." This intimation was followed by the 
 subjoined letters, written upon one sheet. 
 
 " To Mr. Samvel Drew, St. Austell. 
 
 " Manchester, 1 1th April, 1804. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 "At a meeting of the Philological Society, held on Friday 
 evening, the 6th instant, the President, Vice-Presidents, and 
 Members, from the high sense they entertain of the merit and 
 importance of your late work, entitled 'An Essay on the Im- 
 materiality and Immortality of the Human Soul," agreed to dis- 
 pense with the usual formalities, imjour case, and unanimously 
 elected you an honorary member of the said society. 
 
 " By order of the President, Vice-Presidents, and Members. 
 I have the honour to be, with much esteem, sir, 
 
 " Your obedient humble servant, 
 
 " Tho. Bradwell, 
 
 " Secretary." 
 
 " My honest Friend, 
 "It is a long time since I had the opportunity of asking you 
 (in any form) how you did. I have read your answer to Uncle 
 Polwhele, and think it one of the best pieces of the kind I have 
 met with for many years. I admire your piece on the Imma- 
 teriality of the Soul, but am not satisfied that yon are always 
 right. I have often objected to some of your positions ; not 
 because I think them false, but because I think them insufficient 
 to support the edifice to which they stand either as buttresses 
 or abutments. You have done nearly as much as can be done ; 
 but I am far from thinking that your point is proved. If the 
 doctrine can be demonstrated, it must be by some new mode of 
 proof which has not yet been adduced. I shall rejoice to hear 
 from you at any time. Give my love to all my old companions 
 in St Austell. 
 
 " I am, my dear friend, 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 "A. Cr-ARKS. 
 
 La 
 
126 
 
 LIFE OF SAMITFL DUEW. 
 
 " P.S.— If you publish another edition of your Immateriality, 
 &c., let me know — perhaps I might be able to help yon a little, 
 were it only to show you some objections to your svstem, of 
 which you are, perhaps, not aware. There is no point in uni- 
 versal science I should rejoice more heartily to see demon- 
 strated than that which you have undertaken to prove. The 
 opposite is a degrading and uncomfortable doctrine." 
 
 To each member of this literary society was presented an 
 engraved diploma, printed on vellum, headed with an appro- 
 priate emblematical vignette. Some time after the receipt of 
 the preceding letters, Mr. Drew was gratified by being put in 
 possession of the following compliment to his talents and appli- 
 cation. 
 
 Manchester^ Qth April, 
 
 THE 
 
 PHILOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF MANCHESTER, 
 
 Instituted the 22d of September, 
 M D C C C 1 1 r, 
 
 For the cultivation of Literatuke in general, and the diffusion 
 of Useful Knowledge, have this day elected SAMUEL 
 DREW an Associate in their Literary Labours. In testimony 
 whereof 
 
 SEjjis IDiploma 
 Is given, under our Hands and Seal, 
 Adam Clakkk, President. 
 John Fox, ^ Secrc James Hawkes, ) Vice-Pres- 
 
 W. Critchley, > 'f^j.jg^ William Johns, ) idcnts. 
 Joseph Barber, ) 
 
 This society, which owed its existence chiefly to Dr. Clarke, 
 and was begun under favourable auspices, if it had been carried 
 on with the same ability and spirit with which it commenced, 
 might, at the present time, have been an honour to Manchester, 
 and a living monument to the memory of the doctor. His re- 
 moval, and that of several of its most influential members, from 
 that place, was probably the cause of its decline and ultimate 
 extinction. 
 
 The year 1805 was an important era in Mr. Drew's life. 
 Hitherto literary pursuits had been the employment of those 
 
CONNFCTION WITH DR. rOKF. 
 
 157 
 
 vacant hours which his mechanical avocations afforded : hence- 
 forward they became his daily business. His allegiance to St. 
 Crispin was now dissolved ; and the awl and lapstone were 
 exchansied for the pen. 
 
 Dr. Thomas Coke, who claims the honourable distinction of 
 being the founder of the VVesleyan Methodist Missions, was, 
 in the early part of this year, soliciting assistance in the western 
 counties for prosecuting the missionary work. Here he be- 
 came personally acquainted with Mr. Drew ; and being much 
 pleased with his conversation, made to him certain proposals, 
 which, after some deliberation, were accepted. In reference 
 to this agreement, we quofe Mr. Drew's own words, in his life 
 of this gentleman. 
 
 " Very early in the year 1805, 1 became more particularly ac- 
 quainted with Dr. Coke than I had been before. At this time his 
 Commentary on the Bible was verging towards a close, and his 
 History of the West Indies had acquired an imbodied form. 
 Being constantly engaged in soliciting support for the missions, 
 and finding their claims upon his exertions to iticrease daily, 
 he lodged some papers in my hands, requesting irie to examine 
 them with attention, to notice defects, to expunge redundancies, 
 and to give, on some occasions, a new feature to expression. 
 All this was accordingly done ; and in many instances my re- 
 commendations were fully adopted. This intercourse subsisted 
 for several years ; and I received from Dr. Coke a pecimiary 
 remuneration, in proportion to the time that was expended in 
 his service. 
 
 " To what extent this assistance grew, the world is not in- 
 terested in knowing. The death of Dr. Coke has made me 
 ' the sole depository of the secret,' and it is my full intention, at 
 present, that ' it shall perish with mo.' Though one is a resi- 
 dent of time, and the other an inhabitant of eternity, — though 
 the body of one still breathes in Cornwall, and that of the other 
 consumes in some solitary cavern beneath the Indian Ocean, — 
 the compact still remains undissolved, and will probably so re- 
 main until our spirits meet in an eternal world." 
 
 It was at first intended thai Mr. Drew should reside in Lon- 
 don.* In consequence of liis reluctance to leave Cornwall, 
 this was subsequently overruled, and he continued in his former 
 
 * Upon the suhjrct of his connection with Dr. Coke, nnd removal to 
 London, Mr. U. consulted, amonir others, his friend Mr. Clarke, whose 
 characteristic answer exhibits the unreservedness of friendship, and 
 the devotedness of a Christian : — 
 
128 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 place of abode. The precise nature of the compact between 
 Mr. D. and Dr. Coke, though never exphcitly stated, is scarcely 
 a matter of uncertainty ; nor can it be a breach of confidence 
 in the writer of this memoir to make known, after the decease 
 of both parties, what was not communicated to him under the 
 seal of secrecy, but deduced from personal observation. 
 
 When Dr. Coke first became acquainted with Mr. Drew, 
 his Commentary on the New Testament was anxiously expected 
 by the public. The whole burden of directing the missionary 
 work rested tlien upon him — a work which had increased so 
 much, that it was impossible for him to fulfil his duty in this 
 respect, and discharge his literarj^ obligations. Under this 
 
 " London, October 24, 1805. 
 
 "My DEAR Sir, 
 
 " London I consider the first place under the sun. So much do I love 
 it, after long acquaintance, that I should prefer a garret and hammock in 
 it, with one meal per diem, to the most elegant building and finest fare 
 in any part of the globe which would preclude my access to this wonder- 
 ful metropolis. I have travelled the streets of London at all hours, both 
 of the day and night, and was never yet molested, or ever lost even a 
 pocket-handkerchief or a tooth-pick. The good women, it is true, have 
 often accosted me in the most friendly manner, and caught mc by the 
 arm ; but as I walk at an immense sling, — about five miles an hour, — 
 thoy soon found it too difficult to keep up with a man who seemed to 
 have set out on a walk round the globe ; and who, for aught they could 
 tell, was destitute of speech. 
 
 " The London people are in general very ' reserved and shy of access ;' 
 but when men of worth get acquainted with men of merit, they are not 
 only friendly, but truly affectionate. I have a circle of friends here, who 
 shall be your friends also, who may justly rank among the most excel- 
 lent of the earth. 
 
 " With some of the most eminent of the literati I have an intimate 
 arquaintance, and meet them frequently in literary committees. Under 
 the rose, my connection with reviewers, eminent booksellers, and the 
 members of the British and Foreign Bible Society gives me opportuni- 
 ties of gaining acquaintances and hearing discussions of the most impor- 
 tant and instructive kind. Into any of those literary mysteries I can 
 soon initiate you. On your present engagement I will give you my 
 opinion when we meet. I am glad you have no'; lost your grasp of God. 
 
 " Learning I love, — learned men I prize, — with the company of the 
 great and the good I am often delighted ; but infinitely above all these, 
 and all other possible enjoyments, I glory in Christ, — in me living .and 
 reigning, and fitting me for his heaven. 
 
 " I am, my dear sir, yours affectionately, 
 
 " A. Clarke. 
 
 " I should like to be remembered to any of my old friends who yet 
 remain. I remember well when we had glorious days in St. Austell." 
 
co^^'ECTIo:^ with dr. coke. 
 
 129 
 
 difliculty, he looked about for aid ; and found in Mr. Drew such 
 an assistant as he needed. IMuch material had been collected 
 for the Commentary. The outlines were also sketched of the 
 West Indian History, the History of the Bible, and other books 
 which Dr. Coke had either announced or contemplated. These 
 outlines and materials were put into Mr. Drew's hands ; and 
 it became his business to select, arrange, and perfect. 
 
 We again quote an explanatory paragraph from liis life of 
 Dr. Coke. 
 
 "From motives to which the auihor will not give a name, 
 many questions have been asked, in consequence of the pre- 
 ceding compact, which, in the eye of ignorance, would seem 
 to terminate to Dr. Coke's disadvantage. In a letter which is 
 now before the writer, this sentiment is expressed in the fol- 
 lowing words: — 'What effrontery must any person be pos- 
 sessed of, who imposes upon the public by publishing books 
 or tracts in his own name, though written by another, and not 
 ingenuously giving the honour to whom honour is due.' To 
 this family of questions, propositions, and apostrophes. Dr. 
 Coke, in a letter now in my possession, has furnished a satis- 
 factory reply. In the year 1811, when this letter was written, 
 he proposed to incorporate my name with his own ; but in the 
 title-pages of works that had already appeared, thi.? could not 
 be done. In such, however, as were then designed to be pub- 
 lished, it is probable tliat this incorporation would have taken 
 place, if a change in the mode of his proceedings had not ren- 
 dered it impracticable, by the disposal of his works to the 
 Conference, and consequently by suspending the plans which 
 he had in contemplation. Let such as charge him with ' effron- 
 tery' say what, under existing circumstances, they would have 
 expected him to do more." 
 
 After these statements, the reader of this memoir will be 
 enabled to judge how far the credit or discredit of those works 
 which were given to the world in the name of Dr. Coke sub- 
 sequently to May, 1805, is to be imputed to Mr. Drew.* Upon 
 
 * The following extract from a letter written by Dr. Coke, oflf Ma- 
 deira, January 22, 1814, to Mr. Drew, will throw some further light on 
 the nature of llieir connection : — 
 
 " In respect to the History of the Bible, I verily believe, that if God 
 bring me back from India, we shall be able to proceed with it, or you and 
 some Loudon bookseller. I have taken with me a set of the numbers 
 which have been printed, that I may give them a most serious reading. 
 I have not disposed of the translation of .Saurin's Dissertations. They 
 are in a small box in one of Mr. Blanshnrd's upper rooms. 
 
130 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 the footing already indicated this engagement subsisted, until 
 the transfer of Dr. Coke's literarj' properly to the Wesleyan 
 Conference in 1812. It then underwent some modifications, 
 and was terminated by the venerable doctor's sudden and 
 lamented death, in May, 1814, when nearly in sight of the 
 Indian Continent. 
 
 SECTION XVI. 
 
 Mr. Drew is invited to enter the church — His conversation with a Deiat — 
 He writes as a reviewer. 
 
 From the celebrity which his Essay on the Soul had 
 obtained, Mr. Drew acquired considerable notoriety as a 
 preacher. When appointed to the pulpit at home, although 
 novelty could not be a source of attraction, the ciiapel was 
 always fdled with attentive hearers ; and Methodism in St. 
 Austell was not the less popular for his literary reputation. 
 In Cornwall and Devonshire he was so far an object of esteem 
 or curiosity, that the invitations from various quarters to deliver 
 occasional sermons were more numerous than he could pos- 
 sibly accept.* " What need," observes a pious friend, in 
 writing to Mr. Drew about this period, " have you to live to 
 God, lest, amid unbounded applause, you should let go any 
 of that religion which alone can satisfy the immortal mind !" 
 
 " The Missionary Sermon. — I read the introduction at Portsmouth, 
 and viewed the skeleton. Every thing you write has its excellence. But 
 a weak mind would be tempted to doubt the truth of prophecy from your 
 remarks concerning the several circumstances which establish its truth. 
 It is too refined for common readers. Between us, we shall, I trust, make 
 an excellent sermon of it ; and I can send it to the book-room, or the 
 committee, from India. 
 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 "T. Coke." 
 
 ♦ On his remarking to an over-zealous lady who blamed himfor not 
 attending to all the invitations to preach that he received, that " We are 
 not required to kill ourselves by excessive labour in the services of re- 
 ligion," she very earnestly rejoined, " But, sir, you know that if you die, 
 God will raise up another in your stead." We scarcely need add, that 
 with him such an argument had no weight, however forcible it might 
 have been thought by his fair adviser. 
 
CHURCH PRKFERMEIST DECLINED. 
 
 131 
 
 Happily he did not forget that intellect is the gift of God — 
 that, as a gift, it left no place for self-gratulation — that for 
 its proper exercise he must render a scrupulous account — and 
 that, for its right employment and direction, it was indispen- 
 sable that he should cultivate an habitual dependence upon 
 Him, without whom " nothing is wise, nothing is strong." A. 
 weaker mind, in Mr. Drew's circumstances, might have suf- 
 fered injury : he, in every stage, retained his primitive sim- 
 plicity, and, we believe, never permitted the praise of men to 
 relax his duty to God. 
 
 The Very Reverend Archdeacon of Cornwall, after his 
 introduction to Mr. Drew, in 1803, continued to call upon him 
 at the time of his yearly visitations. Notwithstanding his 
 knowledge of Mr. D.'s Methodism, he felt for him a growing 
 regard. It subdued that repugnance with which a gentleman 
 by birth, and a high churchman by education and office, might 
 be expected to view an intimacy with a mechanic, and, accord- 
 ing to popular acceptation, a dissenter; and it led, in 1805, to 
 a proposal, which indicated a generous wish to show himself a 
 patron and a friend. The proposal was, that Mr. Drew should 
 become a candidate for holy orders. The archdeacon 
 promised all his influence to obtain for him such preferment 
 as his talents merited, and wished him to take the matter into 
 serious consideration. 
 
 This proposition Mr. Drew declined. To the Church he 
 felt no antipathy : on the contrary, he had been noted by his 
 religious friends for his advocacy of the establishment ; and 
 having found among its ministers his first literary patrons, he 
 was attached to it by the ties of gratitude. But there were 
 some points in its articles to which he could not subscribe ; he 
 preferred the free constitution of Methodism to the restraints of 
 episcopal government ; and he believed that the intimate con- 
 nection suggested, though in a temporal point of view advan- 
 tageous, would ill accord with his previous associations and 
 habits, and would diminish his general usefulness. For the 
 same reasons, he declined a similar offer, made some years 
 I afterward, by a gentleman who also tendered him his services 
 and patronage. 
 
 About the year 1800, as Mr. Drew was travelling through 
 the eastern part of Cornwall, on a stage-coach, he entered into 
 conversation with a fellow-traveller, who avowed himself a dis- 
 believer in Revelation, and commenced an undisguised attack 
 
132 
 
 LIFL OF SAMUKL DEEvT. 
 
 on the Bible, In Mr. Drew he soon foiuiJ a formidable an- 
 tagonist. He wiblied to withdraw from ihe conicst ; Lut Mr. 
 Drew became in turn the assailant, and pressed him so closely 
 with argument as to compel him to ask quarter, and confess 
 his ignorance of the writings of those deistical authors whose 
 disciple he professed to be, and with the enumeration of whose 
 names he thought to awe his companion into silence. 
 
 Tlie substance of tiiis conversation appeared in the Metho- 
 dist Magazine, of 1807, under the title of " A Dialogue be- 
 tween a Deist and a Christian." It found its way into the 
 pages of that periodical through one of the preachers to whom 
 Mr. Drew related it soon after its occurrence. In 1819, at the 
 recommendation of a friend who thought the Dialogue exceed- 
 ingly well adapted to counteract the effect of those profane and 
 deistical pamphlets which, by their lavish distribution, were 
 unsettling the belief and demoralizing the conduct of the labour- 
 ing population, Mr. Drew condensed it, and published it as a 
 twopenny tract. By his permission, an edition of ten thou- 
 sand was also printed the following year by the Manchester 
 Tract Society. 
 
 The conversation, which is highly valuable and very amu- 
 sing, would, we doubt not, gratify those of our readers who 
 have never perused it ; but since it has appeared in print, in 
 various forms, we quote merely its conclusion. 
 
 Mr. Drew. " What could induce you, sensible as you must 
 have been of your own deficiency, to commence an attack 
 upon me as soon as we mounted the coach ?" 
 
 Travellei!. " I thought you were a country farmer, and I 
 wanted to have a little fun." 
 
 Mr. D. " Did yon not suspect, when you began, that you 
 were committing yourself?" 
 
 T. "I had my suspicions after a little while; but I had 
 gone too far to retreat." 
 
 Mr. D. " It was a conviction of this fact which induced me 
 to accept your challenge. But pray, how do you like the fun 
 you have had l" 
 
 T. "Just as yon may expect. I would not have had any 
 of my acquaintances in company for fifty guineas." 
 
 Mr. D. "Well, sir, you have left me in possession of all 
 my arguments ; you have assented to the leading features of 
 Christianity ; and h«ve not had one word to oppose to what I 
 have delivered. I do not consider that all I have advanced is 
 conclusive. 1 only spoke from the impulse of the occasion 
 
CONVERSATION WITH A DEIST. 
 
 133 
 
 and the moment ; but I am confident that the ground on which 
 I have stood is perfectly tenable ; and the event has proved, 
 that what I have advanced has imposed silence on you. I 
 claim no merit in conquering you; for this even a child might 
 have done : my only merit consists in encountering you, when 
 you held out such a terrific front." 
 
 T. " I beg you will drop the discourse : we are getting 
 into town, and I fear the people will hear us." 
 
 Mr. D. " Sir, I will say no more. I thank you for pre- 
 serving your temper, and recommend to your notice that Bible 
 which you have been taught to despise." 
 
 The vanquished Deist was a mercantile traveller. We are 
 not prepared to say, that, like the gentleman with whom Mr. 
 Drew discussed the arguments in the " Age of Reason," he 
 abandoned his Deism, and embraced Christianity ; but he so 
 far respected his antagonist as to visit him, whenever, in the 
 course of his journeys, he passed through St. Austell. 
 
 In 1806, through the steady friendship and kind offices of 
 Mr. Clarke, Mr. Drew entered upon a department of literature 
 which the following letters fully explain ; while they illustrate 
 a few points of editorial management. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew. 
 
 "London, Cily-road, July 8, 1806. 
 
 "Dear Sir, 
 
 " Some literary gentlemen, who manage one of the Reviews, 
 who have seen, and highly esteem, your Essay on the Imma- 
 teriality of the Soul, have applied to me, to know whether I 
 thought you would become a writer on that subject which you 
 so well understand, and favour their Review with occasional 
 contributions. They would wish to put the metaphysical de- 
 partment entirely into your hands, and upon terms the most 
 honourable in this way. In plain English, if you will become 
 a Reviewer in this department, or any other allied to it, I am 
 authorized to say, that for every printed sheet of your critiques 
 (which shall also include whatever extracts you think proper 
 
 to make from the works you review) you shall receive 
 
 guineas. They will also send you the works they wish you 
 to consider, free of expense ; and beside the above remunera- 
 tion, you may keep each work you review at half-price. If 
 M 
 
134 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 you agree, the M'ork which they wish to put immediately into 
 your hands is Professor Scott's ' Elements of Intellectual Phi- 
 losophy.' Your critiques will come through my hands ; and if 
 there be anything in which I can help you, you may command 
 it. Possibly, I may be able, in some cases, to improve the 
 language a little ; at least, you will have the satisfaction to 
 know, that your work passed through the hands of a friend, 
 before it met the eye of strangers. 
 
 " As I suppose you intend principally to live by your pen, I 
 know of no way in which you may with more ease and safety 
 earn a little money in an honourable and honest way. It may 
 be necessary to add, that you may give free scope to your re- 
 ligious feelings on all such occasions : and the ofiener you take 
 occasion to illustrate the perfections of God, and the great 
 truths of the religion of Christ, the more acceptable your cri- 
 tiques will be. You may send a great deal of matter in a 
 small compass. If you get large, thin paper, a sheet of which 
 will weigh less than an ounce, it will be but single postage. 
 Write as fair as you well can, and let the lines be as much 
 apart as convenient, that there may be no cause of confusion. 
 I am writing now as though you had accepted the proposal, 
 which I must own I cannot help recommending. — As I have 
 promised to use despatch in this business, I hope you will 
 favour me with an answer, if possible, by return of post. — If 
 you wish for any further information, I shall feel a pleasure in 
 giving it, as far as I can. As reviewers keep themselves 
 secret, you will see the propriety of keeping this matter to 
 yourself. 
 
 " May I ask you, what are you now engaged in ? Is the 
 piece on the Resurrection finished ? Have you projected any 
 new work ? Is there any thing in which 1 can assist or serve 
 you ? 
 
 " Think, purpose, speak, and act so, in all things, that you 
 may ever carry about in your own conscience a plenary sense 
 of the approbation of your God. 
 
 " I am, my dear sir, 
 
 *' Yours very affectionately, 
 
 " A. Clarkk." 
 
TUE ECLECTIC REVIEW. 
 
 136 
 
 "London, August 14, 1806. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 "I have just time to say, that the editor of (he Eclectic 
 Review (that for which you are engaged) sends you Professor 
 Scott's and Forsyth's works : the first you will be so kind as 
 to examine with as much speed as possible. I shall also feel 
 obliged to you to speak as well of it as you can, consistently 
 with truth, and the sacred, rigid rules of criticism. 
 
 "I am utterly unacquainted with Mr. Scott; but Professor 
 Bentley, who is the LL.O.P. of King's College, has written to 
 me respecting the work, and, indeed, earnestly wished me to 
 review it, but I really have neither time nor capacity for such 
 an undertaking. My powers, if I have any, must work in a 
 different sphere. 
 
 " As every thing in the Review is regulated, — the articles 
 being restricted to a certain quantum of letter-press, — about 
 eight or nine printed pages of a critique on each of these works 
 is all that can vv'ell be allotted to them; and you will write no 
 more than is quite necessary to fill up so much space, unless 
 something very important presents itself to you. This infor- 
 mation is seldom given to reviewers ; as the editor always 
 preserves his right to cut clown what he does not want — 
 and from this circumstance, many writers in Reviews get in- 
 curably offended. This item of notice will prevent you from 
 receiving any mortification from this quarter. The committee 
 which manages this Review is composed of a number of gentle- 
 men of independent fortune. I iiave seldom seen so much 
 strong, manly sense, sound piety, and genuine learning, go 
 hand in hand. You do not know these, but you know me: — I 
 will, therefore, take care that you shall be duly paid — so that 
 business will be secure. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " I have neither lot nor portion in the Eclectic Review, but 
 have occasionally written articles for it, because I saw that its 
 plan and object were excellent. 
 
 " My dear sir, let us live in the spirit and power of the Lord 
 Jesus. 
 
 " I am, 
 
 " Yours, very affectionately, 
 
 " A. Clarke." 
 
136 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 " London, January 15, 1807. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " I received your eight letters by the same post — apropos, 
 Why did you not put them in a jJacfict, when they were all 
 ready at tlie same time, and send them by mail-coach 1 Then 
 they would have cost one half less. But metaj)hysicians are 
 not always oeconomists. Well, tiiey were very welcome, and 
 would have been redeemed had they been treble charged. 1 
 read the wliole through tlie same day, and was well pleased 
 with ilie close sliaving which you gave to that vile caitiff For- 
 eyth ; but I think he was hardly worth powder and shot ; and 
 I wish you could have compressed your critique. Whether it 
 will be all got in, I cannot tell — I am sure the editor will leave 
 none of it out to save expense ; but each department of science 
 must have its own quantum of letter-press. 
 
 " I dare say you wish lo know how your review of Scott's 
 Elements has been received among the wise-ones. I can say, 
 and it gives me pleasure to be able to say, that it has been well 
 received, and is, by those who arc proper judges, highly es- 
 teemed. ' But how has Professor Scott himself received it V 
 You shall learn from the following extract of a letter which 1 
 lately received from Mr. Bentley, Professor of the Oriental 
 languages in King's College. ' Though Mr. Scott did not ac- 
 quiesce in all the strictures of the reviewer of his work, yet he 
 confessed he was highly praised, and much gratified ; and I 
 thank yon for taking care, not only that the desire I expressed 
 wlien I sent the book should be fulfilled, but that it has been 
 exceeded.' 
 
 " Your critique on Forsyth will occupy the first place ia 
 the number for next month. This is the place of highest 
 honour. When it is printed, I shall transmit the labourer his 
 hire. We shall get something else for you as soon as possible. 
 Is there any thing in your way which you know of that you 
 would like to have put in your hand 1 If there be, let me knovr 
 it immediately. 
 
 The Eclectic Review is taking a high stand among the lite- 
 rary journals of the day. In the estimation of good judges it 
 is equal to any of its competitors, and often superior. Some 
 of the cleverest fellows in the nation are writers in it, and they 
 are all paid Jiigh ; so that the proprietors have never yet 
 received a sixpence of gain — but perhaps the time is not very 
 distant when they shall reap where they have sowed. 
 
 " I am so excessively occupied with the avocations of my 
 situation here as superintendent of this circuit, and president, 
 
THE ECLECTIC REVIEW. 
 
 137 
 
 ad interim, of the Conference, that I have scarcely any time to 
 do any thing for myself — besides, I am so often called out on 
 different committees for various purposes, that I am a mere 
 slave to the public. But August will come, and then, if spared, 
 I shall get out of my present situation, and retire a little into 
 myself. 
 
 "What are you doing? Some tell me that you are writing 
 Dr. Coke's History of the West Indies ! Can you make En- 
 glish of this speech? If I thought you were dull, I would ex- 
 plain it. 
 
 " If your book on the Resurrection of the Human Body be a 
 good thing, I wish it to bring you more than the last did. I 
 think, in this business, I can make a better bargain for you 
 than you can for yourself; and what I can do you may 
 command. 
 
 " Do you think my old friends in St. Austell would know me 
 again ? When first with them I was young and hearty ; now I 
 am old, with hair almost as white as snow, and a siicth-fallen 
 cheek ! What a change in a few years ! Can you, by fair 
 argumentation, give me back my primitive body ? — May we 
 live for eternity, and die possessed of the whole image of 
 God! 
 
 " I am, my dear sir, 
 
 " Yours affectionately in the Lord, 
 
 " A. Clarke." 
 
 The subjoined letter from the editor of the Eclectic has 
 reference to a wish previously expressed, that Mr. Drew would 
 undertake the critical examination of Dr. William's theory, in 
 his Essay on the Equity of the Divine Government, and of a 
 series of pamphlets written for and against his hypothesis. On 
 first intimating his desire to Mr. Drew, the editor observes, 
 " This is a subject of peculiar delicacy in the Eclectic Review, 
 because we do not advance any decided opinions on the sub- 
 jects concerning which Arminians and Calvinists differ. Con- 
 sidering you to be so well versed in speculations of this kind 
 as to know their difficulties, and to be much more moderate 
 I than a mere Arminian or a mere Calvinist in general is, I 
 feel very little hesitation in asking your assistance on this con- 
 troversy." 
 
 M 2 
 
138 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 " 41 Castle-street, Holborn, 
 " March 3, 1809. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " I have this moment received your letter, and lose no time 
 in answering it. — In the first place, I do not hesitate to re- 
 quest that you would immediately undertake the subject, 
 and proceed with all diligence. I shall be glad to see the 
 whole MS. before any part of it is put to press ; because I con- 
 sider the importance of such a critique, published in such a 
 work as tlie Eclectic Review, to be great beyond calculation ; 
 and I certainly should think myself grossly culpable, if I were 
 instrumental in publishing any remarks on the subject, without 
 being well satisfied myself, as well as satisfying those with 
 Avhom I act, on their uniform propriety. A most excellent 
 yoimg clergyman with whom I spent Tuesday evening, speak- 
 ing of a work much inferior in importance to this controversy, 
 said, ' The reviewer should almost write that critique on his 
 knees.' You will fully understand that what I have just said 
 arises from no distrust of you (for if I had not entertained 
 the highest opinion both of your discernment and your pru- 
 dence, I could not have requested your aid) ; but only from a 
 general conviction that a critique on such a subject should not 
 be sent into the world inconsiderately. 
 
 " With regard to your plan, I see no particular objection to 
 it, except the length of disquisition to which it will probably 
 lead. I must beg you to remember, that though perspicuity 
 and correctness may be objects of very great importance in 
 their effect on the reader, conciseness is of the first import- 
 ance ; because a very long article cannot possibly be inserted. 
 
 " I have forwarded you a MS. volunteer critique, written on 
 the doctor's side of the question, and, as I apprehend, by his 
 son. I did not think it fit for insertion ; but requested leave to 
 keep it for the present, as a help to our reviewer in imder- 
 standing the ' dcmonsiration,'' which the doctor says ' nobody 
 seems to comprehend !' Dr. Clarke is very well. 
 
 " I remain, my dear sir, 
 
 " Very sincerely yours, 
 
 " D. Parken, 
 
 " I have to thank you for the pleasure your ' Dialogue' in 
 the Methodist Magazine aflxirded me. It has gained you a 
 Bubscriber." 
 
 The fate of Mr. Drew's critique, and the termination of his 
 
ESSAY ON THE RESURKECTION. 
 
 13? 
 
 connection with the journal for which it was prepared, he thua 
 explained, several years afterward, to one of his literary cor- 
 respondents : — " When the passive power hypothesis of Dr. 
 AViiliams first made its appearance, and the controversy was 
 carried on between his friends and those who opposed his sys- 
 tem, I occasionally wrote articles for the Eclectic Review, 
 and by the editor was desired to review these pamphlets, which 
 were written with a considerable degree of acuteness. This I 
 undertook ; and not knowing that tlie Review was so much the 
 instrument of a party as I have since discovered, I animad- 
 verted on the hypothesis with more freedom than Dr. Wil- 
 liams's friends were willing to allow. In some places I pointed 
 out what I conceived to be the vulnerable parts of his fortress, 
 and the defective branches of his system. This was sent to 
 the editor ; but it was never printed ; nor have 1, from that time 
 to this, written any thing for that journal. My critique I never 
 recalled ; so that it still lies among their papers, and there in 
 all probability it will perish." 
 
 SECTION XVII. 
 
 Completion of Mr. Drew's Treatise on the Identity and Resurrection of 
 of the Body — He submits his .MS. to various literary characters — Pub- 
 lication of the Essaj' — Its reception with the public. 
 
 The treatise on the Identity and Resurrection of the Human 
 Body, which had been for some time laid aside, Mr. Drew, 
 urged by the importunities of his friends, began at length to 
 revise. In this work he proceeded, with a determination not 
 to desist, until, to the utmost of his power, he had " extracted 
 order from confusion, lopped off redundancies, supplied de- 
 fects, and placed his reasonings in a clear and unbroken light." 
 This, to a certain extent, having been effected about August 
 1806, the MS. was put into the hands of Mr. Whitaker, by 
 whom it was examined, and returned to the author with this 
 note : — 
 
 "Dfar Sir, 
 
 " I have read over your Treatise upon Identity, with much 
 care, and with great pleasure. I did not, however, peruse 
 
140 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 it with all the rapidity that I proposed, when I had last the 
 pleasure of seeing you here. Tlie work required more at- 
 tention from me than I expected or had calculated for. Nor 
 did I finish the perusal till Saturday forenoon. I could not, 
 therefore, return you the manuscript, as I promised, on Friday 
 morning ; even if I had chosen to send so valuable a packet 
 by a common hand. But, not choosing this, I was at a loss 
 how I should return it. I therefore resolved to return it in this 
 form. 
 
 " I wish to talk with you a little upon the subject. To one 
 or two points I half object at present. I wish also to settle 
 with you the form in which you mean to publish il, as by sub- 
 scription or otherwise. And 1 beg you to come hither on Sat- 
 urday next, and dine witli us. We will dine at one, that you 
 may go back in good time. If you cannot come, be so kind 
 as to send me a line by the post of Friday. 
 " In the mean time, dear sir, 
 " I remain, 
 " Very much your friend and admirer, 
 
 "John Whitaker. 
 
 " Monday forenoon, Dec. 8, 1806." 
 
 To the Rev. William Gregor the MS. was next submitted, 
 and it is to this gentleman's suggestion that the public is in- 
 debted for the short auto-biographical sketch prefixed to the 
 printed work. His opinion of Mr. Drew's performance is seen 
 in the two letters which follow. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Creed, January llth, 1807. 
 
 » Sir, 
 
 " I fear that I must have appeared to treat you with neglect, 
 in regard to your manuscript. By way of apology for the ill 
 return that I may have made for the honour which you have 
 done me, I must bring forward other necessary avocations, and 
 the very Mature of your work. 
 
 " I have perused it with much interest and satisfaction, and 
 have found reason to admire the sagacity and perseverance of 
 your mind, by means of which you have developed the intrica- 
 cies of a subject so remote from common apprehension. 
 
 " As I have proceeded, I have taken the liberty, with a pen- 
 cil, to mark down some critical minutiae, and also to correct 
 
ESSAY ON THE RESURRECTION. 
 
 141 
 
 some errors of your transcriber. A few cavils, also, I shall 
 suggest to you. As I am persuaded that in sending me your 
 work you did not intend to pay me an unmeaning compliment, 
 so I have thought it became me not to consider my perusal of 
 it as a mere form — I shall, tlierefore, give you my real opinion 
 of its merits, prefaced, however, with the humble confession of 
 my incompetency to form any judgment of it on which you 
 should rely ; as I have been little conversant with metaphysi- 
 cal disquisitions. 
 
 " If you are disengaged either on Friday or Saturday next, 
 will you do me the favour of dining with us at two o'clock ? 
 I will then return you your manuscript, with many thanks ; and 
 we may have some conversation on the subject. 
 "I am your very obedient and humble servant, 
 
 " William Gri;gor." 
 
 " Creed, Thursday evening, 
 " January 29th, 1807. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " I avail myself of an opportunity of sending to St.Austell, 
 to write you a few lines respecting your intended publica- 
 tion. — Mr. Whitaker dined with me not long since. I asked 
 him his opinion, as to the propriety of your prefixing to your 
 work a plain narrative of the incidents of your life, and the 
 circumstances which first led you to metaphysical inquiries. 
 He was struck with the suggestion, and closed with it at once 
 as an advisable measure. The simple ' unvarnished tale,' and 
 the work itself would mutually set off each other. 
 
 "As I hoped to have had a long conversation with you re- 
 specting your work, when you favoured me with your company, 
 I was, perhaps, less explicit in my written remarks than I other- 
 wise shouUl have been — not but that all the remarks which 1 
 could make, would only amount to suggestions for your consid- 
 eration. 
 
 * * « • * 
 
 " Your language is perspicuous and forcible, and carries 
 with it proofs that you clearly comprehended the subject. I 
 think, however, that I suggested to you, that in some places 
 you had repeated some of your proofs, which, on a revisa],you 
 might abridge. For as you certainly are entitled to emolument 
 from such a curious and diflrcult an undertaking as your work 
 is, you should consider what size your volume will be of, or 
 whether it can be printed in the compass of one volume. And 
 
142 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL PREW. 
 
 I would by all means advise you to have recourse to subscrip- 
 tion, and hope that you will meet with due encouragement. 
 
 " Believe me to be yours truly, 
 
 " Wm.' Gregor." 
 
 From Mr. Gregor the MS. was transferred to the venerable 
 Archdeacon Moore, who, in the following courteous terms, 
 kindly consented to its revision. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew, St. Austell. 
 
 "Bath, Jan. 31, 1807. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " Your obliging letter of the 20th inst. not finding me at 
 Exeter, followed me to this place, where it found me under the 
 oppression of the reigning catarrlious cold, called the influenza, 
 which disabled me for several days from holding my head in a 
 writing posture. I thank God my malady is now so far abated 
 that I hope to find myself at home by the end of next week, 
 when and where I shall receive your papers with great pleasure, 
 and employ my first leisure in perusing them with my best at- 
 tention. The subject is most important as well as difficult ; 
 but intricate and obscure as it is in its nature, I have great ex- 
 pectations from your laudable attempt to clear and enlighten it. 
 For your good reception witli the public, you cannot have 
 better external security than the imprimatur of our worthy 
 friends at Creed and Ruan Lanyhorn ; so that I do not under- 
 talie to become your critic from any conceit of adding to the 
 proof of your armour, but because I shall have a pride and 
 pleasure in being employed as a scourer of it. 
 
 "In your present, as in all your future undertakings for the 
 service of truth, your have the best wishes of, 
 " Dear sir, 
 " Your faithful friend and servant, 
 
 " Geo. Moore." 
 
 May we for a moment pause at the unusual circumstance, of 
 ministers of the establishment — high churchmen — distinguished 
 for their talents and erudition, thus tacitly yielding the palm of 
 intellectual superiority to a man in humble life — a mechanic, 
 or recently such, — and a Methodist ? One of these gentlemen, 
 who had condescended to be Mr. Drew's literary patron, now 
 calls himself his " friend and admirer ;" another makes his 
 " humble confession of incompetency to give any opinion of the 
 
ESSAT ON THE RESURRECTION. 
 
 143 
 
 work on which Mr. D. should rely ;" and a third, still higher 
 in ecclesiastical office, would " feel a pride and pleasure in 
 being employed as the scourer of his armour." To what cause 
 shall we ascribe this mental obeisance ? Was it an involuntary 
 homage to mere natural strength of mind ? May we not rather 
 impuie it to a consciousness that those high intellectual powers 
 which tlieir possessor was exercising in the cause of truth, had 
 been quickened and invigorated by religion? 
 
 The intention so courteously expressed by the venerable 
 archdeacon, and the benefit wiiich might have accrued to the 
 work from his revision, were, alas ! frustrated by his untimely 
 death, — tlie indisposition under which he laboured, when 
 writing the preceding letter, being but the precursor of speedy 
 dissolution. 
 
 5 Venturing as he was into an untried region, Mr. Drew felt 
 anxious to have his arguments thoroughly sifted before he gave 
 them to the public. To his friend JMr. Clarke he was indebted 
 for many valuable hints, while engaged in the investigation ; 
 and to his inspection, and that of his literary friends, the MS. 
 was finally submitted. 
 
 In a letter to Mr. D., dated October, 1806, Mr. Clarke ob- 
 serves : — " The plan, as far as you have favoured me with, and 
 I understand it, of your piece on the Kesurrection, I am quite 
 pleased with. I do not see any thing in your propositions 
 which can at all be considered as inimical to Divine Revelation. 
 Your excessive tenderness on this point I highly applaud. If 
 we leave this Book, in all spiritual matters, we get instantly to 
 sea, without rudder, compass, or directing star ; without this all 
 is uncertainty, confusion, and hypothesis. When I see your 
 work I shall be the better able to judge ; and perhaps I can 
 dispose of it among some of the principal publishers to greater 
 advantage than you could yourself." 
 
 In another letter, dated March, 1807, he observes, 
 
 "I am glad you are coming to a close with your long buried 
 
 rork ; I hope it will soon have its resurrection. If you think 
 am your friend, make no sale of your copyright without con- 
 sulting me — I know more of this subject than you can. It is a 
 maxim with me to reserve the right of at least one edition of 
 every work T produce." 
 
 In the two letters which follow, his perusal and opinion of 
 Mr. Drew's work are intimated. 
 
144 
 
 LIFE OF SAMCEL DREW. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew. 
 
 " London, October 20, 1807. ' 
 
 " Deau Sir, 
 
 " Lest you should be anxious without sufllcient cause, I deem 
 it necessary to give you a little information. 
 
 " As your ' Resurrection' was to have been laid before the 
 Philological Society, and knowing that however beneficial their 
 criticisms might be, yet there was no likelihood of having them 
 soon, I wrote to the society and got them to adjourn their 
 meeting to London, ad interim. As there are Jive members of 
 the society resident in London, I thought we might be able to 
 go through the work together, and lot you have our opinion. 
 We have accordingly begun, have gone through 114 pages, and 
 intend to proceed with ii till all is done, and, in the end, give 
 you the sum of that opinion in which we agree. 
 
 "Have you finished Dr. Coke's Philosophy yet? It is said 
 here you are writing one for him. 
 
 " God Almighty bless you ! 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " A. Clarke. 
 
 " 1 wish your were in London. — I could here bring you into 
 being, and make you useful to yourself.'" 
 
 " London, March 21, 1808. 
 
 " My Dear Sir, 
 " I am truly sorry that I could not pay an earlier attention to 
 your kind epistle ; but I have lately been so absolutely over- ■ 
 worked, that I have not only been knocked up, but knocked 
 doivn. 
 
 " The attack made on the British and Foreign Bible Society, 
 in their attempts to spread tlie sacred writings through our 
 eastern possessions, in the languages of the natives, called me 
 forth, in a variety of ways, to help to stem a torrent that threat- 
 ened to sweep away, not only the holy Scriptures from India, 
 but also every thing sacred in our national character. 
 
 " This took up much of my time. Another extraordinary 
 circumstance served to cramp me more straitly. I was applied 
 to by government to assist in the examination of the ancient re- 
 cords of this kingdom. On this business I wrote an essay, and 
 drew up a plan to direct the searches to be made in the dif- 
 ferent repositories. This occupied no small portion of my 
 lime, and is but just finished, — my papers having gone to the 
 
ESSAY ON THE BESUKRECTION. 
 
 145 
 
 Right Honourable the Speaker so late as the 18th instant. Add 
 to all this the duties of my office, and the thousand calls my 
 situation here exposes me to, and you will not be surprised to 
 hear that we have not yet been able to get through your MS. 
 Had it, indeed, been a common work we had finished it long 
 ago, for we have had several long sittings at it, — but we could 
 take in but little at a time. However, we have got through 
 nearly 500 pages, at dilTerent intervals ; from which I am 
 afraid little profitable can be derived. 
 
 " I have been so engaged that I could not spare time to write 
 down my thoughts, though I delivered several half-liour speeches 
 on the subject before the society, which all the members agreed 
 in wishing to be preserved and transmitted to you : but to me 
 this was absolutely impossible. I hope soon to be able to call 
 another meeting, and go through the remaining parts ; and if, 
 at the conclusion, we can glean up any fragments that may 
 appear to be of use to you, they shall be transmitted. My 
 mind is perfectly made up on the mode of publication : it should 
 be by snbscription, — and if you have courage enough to face 
 the present dearth of paper, you should commence your appli- 
 cation without delay. After all the very ingenious and excel- 
 lent things you have said on the subject — things of great 
 moment in themselves, and of great importance even insulated 
 from your grand argument — I am afraid I shall still feel that 
 the doctrine of the resurrection is a mere doctrine of Rece- 
 lation, and that reason and natural analogies will afford but 
 feeble lights to direct us through the palpable obscure. 
 
 " Howsoever your labours may issue, your work will be en- 
 titled to great respect ; as no common mind could have dared 
 to explore a path that the vulture's eye had not seen, and to 
 have met so manfully a host of the most formidable and con- 
 founding difficulties. 
 
 " As a testimony of my approbation of the importance and 
 value of your labours, you may set me down as a subscriber 
 for twelve copies. 
 
 " I thank you for your friendly congratulations — I have in- 
 deed been treated far, very far, beyond my merit — I neither 
 sought nor expected the literary honours I have received. My 
 degree of A.M. I received in the most honourable way — that 
 of LL D. even more so, if possible — I had not even carriage to 
 pay. But the honour that comeih from God will alone stand 
 me in stead in a dying hour. 
 
 " Hurried as I am, 1 cannot let even the frank go empty. 
 And what a strange thing is this frank ! written by a Methodist 
 
146 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DEEW. 
 
 local preacher, and a steady, constant member of society, and 
 a class-leader ! Poor Methodism ! — it is not likely to be always 
 under the harrow. — But query, will it be best for it to rise in 
 the esteem of the mighty ? That a Methodist preacher should 
 ever be qualified to write a frank is a strange thing ; and that 
 another should be solicited to assist in investigating the records 
 of the country, and have access to the most sacred reposhories 
 of the state, is not less so. 
 
 " Do you still continue to preach Jesus and the Resurrec- 
 tion t May God be with you ! My love to all my old friends 
 in St. Austell. 
 
 " I am, my dear sir, 
 
 " Yours aflectionately, 
 
 "A. Clarke. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew, St. Austell, Cornwall. 
 " Free, Tho. Thompson." 
 
 The MS. being at length returned to the author, he made 
 known his intention of publishing by subscription, and in revis- 
 ing it for the press, availed himself of the various criticisms it 
 had undergone. Such was the credit given to Mr. Drew's tal- 
 ents for abstruse inquiry, that his application to the public was 
 soon answered by orders for more than eight hundred copies. 
 Tlirough tiie kind intervention of Dr. Clarke, overtures for the 
 purchase of the copyright were also speedily made to him by 
 the proprietor of his treatise on the Soul. Conceiving that it 
 would be advantageous to retain the copyright until he had dis- 
 posed of the first impression, he at first declined the offer to 
 purchase. Ultimately, for five hundred copies, complete in 
 boards, he resigned his property in the treatise to Mr. Edwards, 
 who placed so much reliance on the merits of the book, and 
 its author's celebrity, as to hazard an edition of fifteen hundred. 
 
 The work was published in April, 1809. Writing to a 
 friend, on the 10th of May, the author says, "I have not seen 
 it since it was in MS. ; but all the proof sheets have been exam- 
 ined by Adam, the first of men. Whatever usage it may re- 
 ceive from the critics, I shall feel a solace arising from the rec- 
 titude of my intentions." In the following August, Mr. Ed- 
 wards, in a letter to Mr. Drew, remarks, " Your new Essay 
 has not, I believe, been reviewed yet by any one." Before the 
 close of the year he writes thus : — " I have now left, of the 
 last work, about two hundred copies unsold ; but of the Essay 
 on the Soul, I have only four copies remaining. I think of ven- 
 
ESSAY ON THE KESPRRECTION. 
 
 147 
 
 luring another edition of this, as soon as I get your corrected 
 copy. I did not know, till last week, that the Anti-Jacobin 
 had reviewed your last work ; and it appears, by your letter, 
 that you are unacquainted with it ; however, they have said but 
 little about it; and I suppose for this reason, that they did not 
 know well how to treat it; — it is in the number for September. 
 I believe this is tiie only one that has yet noticed it. I saw 
 Mr. Parken last week, and asked him if any person was re- 
 viewing it for the Eclectic. He gave me to understand that it 
 was difficult to get a proper person to do it justice.. I would 
 have you to expedite your corrections for another edition of the 
 Essay on the Body, at all events ; as I hope it will not be long 
 before I shall want to put it to press again." 
 
 In a letter from a London bookseller, of the same year, ap- 
 pears this request : " I wish you could contrive to send me a 
 
 review of your new Essay for the E , M . They 
 
 have wished me to get a review of it by some friend of 
 mine ; and I know no one who is able and willing to do it in 
 the manner that it deserves. If you could do something in 
 that way, it might remain a secret between you and myself." 
 
 The hint thus given, for Mr. Drew to criticise his own per- 
 formance, and some proposals which he received from other 
 quarters, of a similar purport, raised his indignation. " Such 
 things," he observed, "may be among the tricks of trade ; but 
 never will I soil my fingers by meddling with them. My work 
 shall honestly meet its fate. If it be praised, I shall doubtless 
 be gratified — if censured, instructed — if it drop still born from 
 the press, I will endeavour to be contented." Absolutely still- 
 born it was not : — besides the Anti-Jacobin, it was reviewed in 
 the British Critic. But, for the reason assigned by Mr. Ed- 
 wards — the difficulty of procuring competent reviewers — the 
 book obtained less notice in the journals of the day than was 
 due to its merit, the reputation of its author, and the impor- 
 tance of its subject ; and possibly from this cause, the second 
 edition of the treatise, so quickly anticipated, did not appear 
 until 1822. 
 
148 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 SECTION XVIII. 
 
 Death and Memoir of Mr. Whit^ker — Mr. Drew's illness — His acquaint- 
 ance with Colonel Sandys and Professor Kidd — He is advised to write 
 for the Burnet prize. 
 
 We must now return to tlie year 1808, in which Mr. Drew 
 had to himent the decease of his early patron and constant 
 friend, the Rev. John Whilaker. To departed excellence a 
 tribute is always due. In this place especially, it should be 
 paid to one" whose kind and fostering care cherished Mr. Drew's 
 first literary undertakings, and decidedly influenced his future 
 destiny. Nothing has been said ia these pages of the char- 
 acter and talents of that amiable and learned man ; for the 
 writer — one of another generation — feels his incompetence to 
 the task. He will, therefore, hold himself and his readers in- 
 debted to the pen of Mr. Polwhele for a brief notice of this 
 venerable scholar and antiquarian. 
 
 "John Whitaktr was born at Manchester in 1735. In 
 the register of baj)tisms at the Collegiate parish church of Christ, 
 in that place, we find he was baptized on the lllh of May in 
 that year. Before he was ten years of age he was entered a 
 scholar of the Free Grammar School at Manchester. In 1752, 
 he was ' made Exhibitioner to Oxford, at ten pounds per 
 annum.' He was elected Scholar of C.C.C. 3d of March, 
 1753 ; and Fellow 21st of January, 1763. In 1759, February 
 27, he was admitted M.A. ; and in 1767, July 1st, he pro- 
 ceeded B.D. 
 
 "It appears that he was a young man of 'great peculiari- 
 ties.' At college he associated with very few ; yet not from 
 fastidiousness. His early religiousness was apparent in his 
 regularly keeping the fast of Lent, and that of every Friday 
 throughout the year, until supper time. In this observance 
 there was no affectation ; if the uniform simplicity of a long 
 life will authorize such an assurance. 
 
 " In 1773 we find Mr. W. in London, the Morning Preacher 
 of Berkeley-chapel. To this office he had been appointed in 
 November, by a Mr. Hughes, but in less than two months was 
 
REV. JOHN WHITAKER. 
 
 149 
 
 removed from his situation. During his residence in London, 
 Whiiaker had an opportunity of conversing with several of our 
 most celebrated writers ; among whom were the author of the 
 Rambler, and the historian of the Roman Empire. With Gib- 
 bon Mr. W. was intimately acquainted ; and the MS. of the 
 first volume of 'the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire' 
 was submitted to his inspection. But, what was his surprise, 
 when, as he read the same volume in print, that chapter which 
 has been so justly obnoxious to the Christian world, was then, 
 for the first time, introduced to his notice ! That chapter Gib- 
 bon had suppressed in the MS. overawed by Whitaker's high 
 character, and afraid of his censure. And, in fact, that the 
 Deist should have shrunk from his indignant eye, may well be 
 conceived, when we see his Christian principle and his manly 
 spirit uniting in the rejection of a living of considerable value, 
 ■which was at that time offered him by a Unitarian patron : he 
 spurned at the temptation, and pitied the seducer. 
 
 " That men of genius have not always the merit of patient 
 exertion, is a trite remark. And certainly splendid talents and 
 studiousness are far from being inseparable. But in his learned 
 labours Mr. Whitaker was indefatigable from his youth — even 
 from his boyhood. Notwithstanding all he had done, I heard 
 him speak, not many months before his death, of 'Notes on 
 Shakspeare,' and of ' Illustrations of the Bible.' But he wished 
 to finish his ' Oxford,' his ' London,' and his ' St. Neot,' be- 
 fore he resumed his ' Shakspeare,' on which he had occasion- 
 ally written notes — and to lay aside his ' Shakspeare' before 
 he took up his ' Bible.' To the Bible he meant to withdraw 
 himself, at last, from all other studies. It was 'the Holy of 
 Holies,' into which he longed to enter ; and, when entered, there 
 to abide. All this Mr. Whitaker intended to do ; and all this, 
 if some few years had been added to his life, he would probably 
 have done. 
 
 " With a view to the last three antiquarian productions, he 
 determined to visit the metropolis : and thither he travelled, 
 with all the ardour of youthful spirits. But even for his ath- 
 letic frame he had a mind too restless, too anxiously inquisi- 
 tive. Amid his remarks into the antiquities of the city, his 
 friends detected the first symptoms of bodily decay. His 
 journey to London ; his daily and nightly sallies, while there, 
 in pursuit of objects started every now and then to the eye of 
 the antiqtiary ; and his energetic and diversified conversation 
 Avith literary characters, brought on a debility, which he little 
 regarded, till it alarmed him in a stroke of paralysis. 
 
ISO 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 •'Mr. Whitaker's greatness as a writer, no one can question. 
 And that he was good as well as great, would appear in the 
 review of any period of his life ; wliether we saw him aban- 
 doning preferment from principle, and heard him 'reasoning of 
 righteousness and judgment to come' until a Gibbon ' trem- 
 bled or whether, among his parishioners, we witnessed his 
 unaffected earnestness of preaching, his humility in conversing 
 with the meanest cottagers, his sincerity in assisting ihem with 
 advice, liis tenderness in offering them consolation, and his 
 charily in relieving their distresses. * 
 
 " During Mr. Whitaker's illness, several of his neighbours, 
 who to all appearance had been alienated from him, called on 
 him, and sympathized in his sufferings, with every token of 
 affectionate attention. And, ' I thank God' he would exclaim, 
 ' for this visitation ! I am happier than I have ever been. I 
 am departing from this world ; and I see at my departure all 
 ready to forgive my inadvertencies and errors — all kindly dis- 
 posed towards me !' His decline was gradual. Nor, melan- 
 choly as it was, could a Christian contemplate it without pleas- 
 ure ; inasmuch as the strength of his faith and the calmness of 
 his resignation were more and more visible, under the con- 
 viction that he was labouring under a disorder from which he 
 could not possibly recover, and which threatened a speedy dis- 
 solution. His, in fine, were tlie faith and the resignation which 
 might have been judged worthy of a primitive disciple of that 
 Jesus, in whose mercies he reposed, and to whose mediation 
 alone he looked with humble hope. And his decease was such 
 as could not but give comfort to those who viewed it; when 
 (on October 30, 1808) in the awful hour which 'seemed open- 
 ing upon the beatitudes of heaven,' at peace with liimself, his 
 fellow-creatures, and his God, he sank as into quiet slumber, 
 or (to use the patriarchal language) ' fell asleep.' " 
 
 The funeral obsequies of his friend Mr. Drew attended ; and 
 he felt a mournful satisfaction in paying this last duty to one 
 to whom he owed so many obligations. 
 
 The only serious interruption of health which Mr. Drew ex- 
 perienced, from the year 1798 until a short time previous to 
 his decease, occurred in 1809. To one of his correspondents, 
 in a letter dated July, in tiiis year, he thus writes : — " You may 
 probably recollect, that when you called upon me I complained 
 
ILL HEALTH. 
 
 151 
 
 of being unwell. Since that time I have been ill of a slow 
 fever, and am but just recovered. The disorder, through Al- 
 mighty goodness, has entirely left me ; but I feel myself very 
 much debilitated, and am at present but badly calculated to 
 enter into the thorny region of metaphysics." For the re- 
 coTery of his health he resided a short time at the neighbour- 
 ing sea-port of Fowey, where a gentleman connected with the 
 custom-house was an intimate friend. A member of this friend's 
 family, referring to the period, says, " It happened opportunely, 
 that the day before Mr. Drew came hither, orders were re- 
 ceived from London, that the officers belonging to the custom- 
 boat should go on the water every day to reconnoitre the coast 
 to the extent of the port, for some specific purpose not in my 
 recollection, but many times since jocosely asserted by Mr. 
 Drew to he for his benefit.''' Such was certainly its result. 
 
 It is Dr. Franklin who suggests the propriety of occasion- 
 ally inspecting our list of friends, and endeavouring, by the 
 cultivation of new acquaintances, to fill up the blanks which 
 death has occasioned. But Mr. Drew needed not to follow 
 such advice ; nor, if he had, would his independent spirit have 
 yielded to that necessity. Modest and unobtrusive, he neither 
 sought the company nor courted the acquaintance of any one ; 
 nevertheless the friendship of men of learning and influence 
 awaited him. 
 
 In the year 1809 he became intimate with the late Lieu- 
 tenant-colonel Sandys, of Lanarih House, near Helston. This 
 gentleman, who to his military rank added the higher dignity 
 of the Christian believer, esteemed Mr. Drew for his work's 
 sake, and made him a tender of that friendship to which he 
 would not have presumed unsolicited to aspire. The good 
 colonel and he visited each other ; and a correspondence was 
 begun, which terminated only with the colonel's death. 
 
 About twelve months after Mr. Whitaker's decease, the let- 
 ters which follow placed Mr. Drew in friendly relationship 
 with another literary gentleman, and opened a long and valu- 
 able correspondence on matapliysical topics. They also led 
 him to undertake his most elaborate work — a treatise on the 
 Being, Attributes, and Providence of God. 
 
 " Aberdeen, 17th jVovember, 1809. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " Both your books have lately fallen into my hands. They 
 have afforded me much information and satisfaction ; and, 
 
152 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 though metaphysics lie out of my profession, 1 nm fond of the 
 study. When I read your Dedication, I could have wished 
 that I had been Rector of Ruan Lanyhorn when you first pub- 
 lished. When I read your Address, 1 admired your mind, and 
 felt for your family ; and from that moment began to revolve, 
 how I might profit merit emerging from hardships. I have at 
 length conceived a way which will, in all likelihood, put you 
 and your dear infants in independence. There is a Prize Es- 
 say to be written in the course of three or four years hence, for 
 which the sum of fifteen hundred pounds will be given, by the 
 will of a man who died in this city lately. I may, perhaps, 
 mistake the exact sum, but I am sure it is above a thousand. 
 Should you incline to try your pen for this prize, you shall 
 have all the assistance and friendship I can give. 
 
 "Those grateful and dignified feelings and sentiments which 
 1 discover in your books — above all, your regard for the holy 
 Scriptures and tiie cause of God, I admire, and will assist you, 
 if I can. May I then entreat, that you lay aside the idea of 
 writing against Tom Paine, or any other deistical writer. I 
 believe you to be a philosopher ; but, you will permit me to 
 say, such labour is not philosophic. The only way to serve 
 the cause of the Redeemer, is to publish the truth without any- 
 more argument than is quite necessary to establish the point 
 in hand ; — this was the way He preached, and his apostles 
 followed him. When you wrangle with dead authors, you 
 have so much to quote, and so much to say, that not a reader 
 in a thousand can follow both sides ; your efforts, therefore, 
 should be directed to the display of truth by itself: — forgive 
 my freedom. 
 
 " The subject of the Essay is ' The evidence, independently 
 oi" Revelation, tliat there is a Being all-powerful, wise, and 
 good, by whom every thing exists.' 
 
 " Should you please to favour me with an answer, I shall 
 continue a correspondence, and explain and inform you of all 
 particulars. 
 
 " With best wishes for yourself and family, 
 " I am, sir, 
 
 " Your sincere humble servant, 
 
 " .Tames Kidp. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew, 
 "Author of the Essay on the Soul and the Body, 
 " St. Austell, Rnan Lanyhorne, 
 " Cornwall. 
 
THE BURNET PRIZE. 
 
 153 
 
 " St. Austell, Cornwall, Nov. 27tli, 1809. 
 " Rev. and dear Sir, 
 " When your very polite and very affectionate letter reached 
 me, I knew not whether the surprise or the gratitude w hich it 
 occasioned was the most predominant. My surprise was ex- 
 cited by the thought, that any thing I had written, or was 
 capable of writing, should awaken the solicitude of a learned 
 stranger for the welfare of my family ; and my gratitude was 
 arrested by the manner in which that solicitude expressed 
 itself, in tlie language of benevolence and friendship. For 
 your kindness in writing, your manner of doing it, and the mo- 
 tives which led you to it, be pleased to accept my sincerest 
 thanks. 
 
 "On the subject of your letter, I feel myself at a loss how 
 to express my views, or in what manner to return an answer. 
 I must candidly confess, that I know of no subject, within the 
 whole circle of theology, that is more congenial with my 
 habits of reflection than that which is proposed for the prize 
 essay. It is a subject on which I have often turned my thoughts 
 with pleasure, and enjoyed a grateful satisfaction, while reflect- 
 ing on those decisive evidences with which God has furnished 
 us of his own existence and perfections. 
 
 " Still, however, the circumstances which forbid me to com- 
 ply with your request appear too numerous and too formidable 
 for my inclination and judgment to overcome, even though 
 allured by a bait, which, while it invites, must be witheld from 
 my grasp, even by its own greatness. The inducement which 
 it holds out, will, of course, awaken the attention of some of 
 the first geniuses of the United Kingdom ; and I cannot for a 
 moment harbour the idea of contending with such exalted 
 characters, who enjoy all the advantages of learning, leisure, 
 and superior talents, without associating with it some notions 
 of vanity and presumption. England, no doubt, will produce 
 new Lockes and Clarkes, and Scotland new Beatiies and 
 Reids ; and I can hardly arrogate to myself the character of 
 becoming their rival, without placing myself in the situation of 
 Andromeda, who, contending with the Nereides for the prize of 
 beauty, was by them bound to a rock, and condemned to be 
 devoured. 
 
 " Such, my dear sir, are the feelings which your letter has 
 excited in my bosom. I will not say that farther communica- 
 tions cannot suppress them ; but, under present circumstances, 
 I should smile at my own folly, in attempting to become a 
 competitor with the best metaphysicians in the empire. 
 
154 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 "I will, nevertheless, thank you to inform me — What must 
 be the probable extent of the expected essay? — Must its author 
 investigate ami refute the systems of atheism which have im- 
 posed upon the world from Lucretius to Hume ? — Is the author 
 forbidden to use any of those ideas which others have adopted 
 to prove the existence of a God ? — or are these particulars left 
 to tiie choice and determination of those who write ? If this 
 latter be the case, were I to enter the lists, my wish would be 
 to concentrate those ideas whicli I shoidd deem necessary to 
 establish the demonstration, leaving Hobbes, Spinoza, and 
 Bolingbroke to slumber with Voltaire. 
 
 " The sacred writings I hope I shall never cease to venerate 
 as the great repository of moral truth. I view them with rev- 
 erence, and bow before them with homage ; and trust I shall 
 never indulge myself in any speculations which will incline 
 me to depart from this sacred standard of religious knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 "I feel highly gratified that the two essays which I have 
 already written have been so fortunate as to afford you any sat- 
 isfaction. Every token of approbation inspires me with new 
 vigour to exert myself in promoting, to the irtmostof my power, 
 the cause of God among mankind. Hitherto I believe the lat- 
 ter work has not passed the ordeal of the reviewers, nor can I 
 anticipate the destiny which awaits it. I am sorry to find 
 that there are several typographical errors scattered through the 
 volume ; some of which cause obscurity in the pages in which 
 they appear. My manuscript was copied in a fair hand, which 
 I thought would have rendered my superintendence of the press 
 unnecessary. Experience, however, has tauglit me a different 
 lesson. The printer has just informed me that he expects a 
 second edition will be wanted soon after Christmas, when I hope 
 these errors will be removed. A third edition of my ' Essay 
 on the Soul' will go to press almost immediately ; but in this 
 I have no pecuniary interest, as I sold the copyright before it 
 had received the public opinion. 
 
 "1 rejoice to concur with you on the impropriety of wrang- 
 ling with dead authors. Long quotations to me are irksome, 
 and, though necessary on such occasions, rarely fail to involve 
 intricacies which few are inclined to trace. My pamphlet 
 against Paine was the first thing I ever submitted to the pub- 
 lic eye ; and, though 1 believe a friend of mine is now about to 
 reprint it, by my permission, it engrosses no part of my time, 
 nor have I any interest in the issue. 
 
 " Kuan Lanyhorne, in which parish my good friend Whita- 
 
THE BURNET PRIZE. 
 
 155 
 
 ker once resided, is about twelve miles from this place ; and 
 its name on the direciion of my letters is calculated rather to 
 prevent me- from receiving them, than to bring tiiem to me. I 
 will therefore thank you, in future, to direct to Samuel Drew, 
 St. Austell, Cornwall. 
 
 " With my best wishes for your welfare, and sincerest grati- 
 tude for your kind intentions to benefit me and my family, I 
 remain, 
 
 " Reverend and dear sir, 
 
 " Your very humble servant, 
 
 "Samuel Drew, 
 
 " Rev. Professor James Kidd, 
 Maris chal College, Aberdeen.'^ 
 
 " Aberdeen, 8th Decemljcr, 1809. 
 
 "Dear Sik, 
 
 " Your welcome favour of the 27th iilt. duly arrived. I 
 thank you for opening the correspondence. 
 
 " Notwithstanding your modest views of your own abilities, 
 and the becoming diffidence of success you express, yet some- 
 how I have a faint hope — or something stronger. Metaphysi- 
 cians of the description you mention will not, in my opinion, 
 take up their time with the subject of the Essay. Their 
 views will natairally be turned to general knowledge of the 
 human mind ; and, being at ease, either in places of colleges 
 or the lap of fortune, they will not readily turn aside for the 
 prize. And if they did, they might not take such views as 
 you ; and the Essay may be published, though unsuccessful. 
 Mr. Dugald Stewart, Professor of Moral Philosophy in the 
 university of Edinburgh, is at present perhaps the most fa- 
 mous in that department of literature ; but he is old, and likely 
 will not make the attempt. 
 
 " The regulations relative to the direction and proceeding 
 of the judges of the Essays that may be written, have been 
 published in most of the newspapers, both in Scotland and Eng- 
 land. In one of them you can see all that I could write. 
 
 " In your long note, section VIL, on the subject of Instinct 
 and Reason, in your Essay on the Soul, you appear to ground 
 decree upon infinite power. I should presume, from what I 
 understand of the note, that you espouse rather the Arminian 
 than the Calvinistic view of the subject ; but I am not certain. 
 ***** 
 
 " That God may direct you and your family in the way of 
 
156 
 
 tIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 life and peace, and bring you and thenn at last into his heavenly 
 kingdom, is the earnest wish and prayer of, 
 " Dear sir, 
 
 "Your sincere humble servant, 
 
 " James Kidd. 
 
 " Mr. Samuel Drew.^'' 
 
 " St. Austell, Cornwall, Dec. 23, 1809. 
 
 "Dear Sir, 
 
 " I hate ingratitude ; and yet sometimes walk so near its 
 borders, by apparently neglecting those who are solicitous for 
 my welHsre and reputation, iliat I expose myself to the imputa- 
 tion of being ungrateful, without designing to incur it, or de- 
 serving the appellation. I have omitted to answer your affec- 
 tionate letter till the present time, thai I might furnish myself 
 with the advertisement to which you alluded. This 1 have 
 obtained, and the paper is now before me. It contains satis- 
 factory information, and seems fairly laid down, on impartial 
 principles. In sliort, it contains an answer to almost every 
 question which can, with propriety, be proposed.* I sincerely 
 
 * The advertisement, which first appeared in 1807, is as follows : — 
 ' A gentleman, deceased, has bequeathed a sum, not less than twelve hun- 
 dred pounds, to be paid to the person who shall write, and lay before the 
 Judges, to be appointed as after-mentioned, a treatise, which shall by 
 them be determined to have the most merit, upon the following subjects, 
 as expressed in his will, — viz. 
 
 " 'The Evidence, that there is a Beino, all-powerful, wise, and good, 
 by whom every thing exists ; and particularly to obviate difficulties re- 
 garding the Wisdom and Goodness of the Deity ; and this, in the first 
 place, from considerations independent of Written Revelation ; and, in 
 the second place, from the Revelation of the Lord Jesus ; and, from the 
 whole, to point out the inferences most necessary for, and useful to, man- 
 kind.' 
 
 " To the person who shall write, and lay before the said Judges, a 
 Treatise on the sul)ject above-mentioned, which shall be found by them 
 next in merit to the former, the Testator further bequeaths a sum, not 
 less than four hundred pounds, after deducting therefrom the expense 
 of printing and binding, or purchasing two hundred printed copies of each i 
 of the said Treatises. 
 
 " The Ministers of the Established Church at Aberdeen, the Principals 
 and Professors of King's and Marischal Colleges of Aberdeen, and the 
 Trustees of the said Testator, are appointed to nominate and make choice 
 of three Judges, who are to decide, agreeably to certain rules prescribed 
 in the deed of settlement, upon the comparative merit of such Treatises 
 as shall be laid before them. 
 
 " The time allowed by the Testator, for the composition of these Trea- 
 tises, extends to the first of January, 1814 ; and his Trustees do now 
 intimate, in compliance with his appointment, that those who shall become 
 
THE BURNET FBIZE. 
 
 157 
 
 lhank you for your friendly attention, and beg you to accept my 
 grat€ful acknowledgments, as the only requital which it is in 
 my power to make. 
 
 " The writings of Mr. Stewart, whom you mention, I have 
 not seen, unless through the citations made by a Mr. R. E. 
 Scott, Professor of Moral Philosopiiy, Aberdeen, on the ' Ele- 
 ments of Intellectual Philosophy.' His work I have. It is 
 probable you are personally acquainted witli him. Do you 
 think he will become a competitor I It is, however, of little 
 consequence to inquire : every person has a right ; and the 
 united efforts of all will, most probably, augment the general 
 stock of argumentative proof, and give to truth herself an addi- 
 tional lustre, by depriving her of some shades with which she 
 has long been enveloped. I shall esteem myself happy, if any 
 thing I can write may contribute to so desirable an event. 
 
 " On the subject of my note, your views were rightly founded. 
 I hare embraced the Arminian rather than the Calvinistic side 
 of the question, on that subject to which the note alluded. But 
 I have by no means waded into those depths into which some 
 have plunged tiiemselves. I l)elong to the Wesleyan Metho- 
 dists, and have so upwards of twenty years. I occasionally 
 preach among them on Sabbatli-days. 
 
 " As to our principles, I presume they are known to you, from 
 the circumstance I have mentioned. I admit the total depravity 
 of human nature; the atonement made by Jesus Christ; the 
 divinity of his person ; the full efficacy of his grace ; our utter 
 inability to help ourselves without supernatural aid ; and that 
 to this, from first to last, we are indebted for our salvation. It 
 is God who must begin, support, carry on, and complete the 
 work ; so that, through eternity, we must ascribe all our sal- 
 vation to sovereign favour. 
 
 " 1 have thus stated the leading features of my principles, so 
 far as they appear likely to awaken your solicitude. You, I 
 perceive, have embraced the Calvinistic views of the gospel. 
 I am not disposed to differ with any one who holds the essen- 
 
 competitors for the said Prizes must transmit their Treatises to Alexander 
 Galen, Esq., Merchant, in Aberdeen, in time to be with him on or before 
 the first daj' of January, 1814 ; as none can be received after that date ; 
 and they must be sent free of all expense to the Trustees. 
 
 " The Judges will then, without delay, proceed to examine and decide 
 upon the comparative merits of such Treatises as shall be laid before 
 them ; and the Trustees will, at the first term of Whitsunday, after the 
 determination of the Judges, pay the Premiums to the successful candi- 
 dates, agreeably to the Will of the Testator." 
 
 o 
 
158 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL' DREW. 
 
 tial doctrines of Christianity ; and hope that few enlightened 
 minds, if influenced by Divine grace, are destitute of the same 
 liberality. 1 correspond with several Calvinists ; but I hope 
 we have learned the lesson of the good old patriarch — ' See 
 that ye fall not out by the way.' 
 
 " How far this brief avowal of my sentiments may clash 
 witli the doctrines expected to be inculcated in the projected 
 essay, I am not able to conjecture. If it is to be assumed on 
 parly ground, or to have its merits or demerits decided by its 
 approximation to any private sentiments not essential to salva- 
 tion, I will decline at once all thoughts about it. An essay of 
 this nature should inculcate nothing but general trutli. Ar- 
 minianisni and Calvinism should be aWke kept out of sight. 
 Neither particular nor universal redemption should appear. In 
 my opinion, its great end will be defeated the instant that it 
 becomes a vehicle of those positions for which the different 
 branches of llie religious world have been contending for more 
 than ten centuries. If I become a candidate, it shall be on 
 those general principles to wliich we all resort. Any question 
 which may arise with you, on any sentiment which you may 
 think I have not expressed with sufficient clearness, I will 
 thank you to state, and it will be answered with the utmost 
 readiness by, 
 
 " Rev. and dear sir, 
 
 " Yours most sincerely, 
 
 " Samiikl Drew. 
 
 " Rev. Vrofessoi- James Kidd." 
 
 Professor Kidd, whose disinterested friendship for Mr. Drev? 
 commands admiration, had, like him, to contend in early life 
 witli difficulties, and was also enabled, by talent and perse- 
 verance, to triumph over them.* This similarity of circum- 
 stances prohal)iy awakened the professor's attention, and ex- 
 cited his sympathy. 
 
 In reference to their intimacy, Mr. Drew remarks, " Happy, 
 extremely happy should I have thought myself, if, before the 
 cares of a family engrossed my attention, 1 had been so fortu- 
 nate as to open a correspondence with you, or with any one 
 who, under the auspices of Christianity, would have ' taught 
 the young idea how to shoot.' But I have much greater reason 
 for gratitude that any literary ciiaracters have condescended 
 
 ♦ For a sketch of this gentleman's life the reader is referred to the Im- 
 perial Magazine, for January, 1826. 
 
THE PKIZE ESSAY. 
 
 159 
 
 to notice me, than to complain that liiey did not assist me at 
 the ' birth of intellect.' I hope my acquaintance with Pro- 
 fessor Kidd will form a new epoch in the detail of events ; and 
 if the memoirs of my li-fe were to be handed to posterity, this 
 circumstance would furnish a new era to my biographer." 
 
 SECTIOxV XIX. 
 
 Treatise on the Being and Attributes of the Deity undertaken — As a 
 Prize Essay it is unsuccessful — Air. Drew thinks of editing a pro- 
 vincial newspaper — His " Arguments on the Divinity of Christ," and 
 " Reply to Thomas Prout," published. 
 
 Fkom Mr. Drew's literary correspondence in 1810, it is ap- 
 parent that his feelings had begun to respond to tlie solicitations 
 of his northern friend, respecting the Prize Essay. At this 
 period his engagement witli Dr. Coke had so far monopolized 
 his time, that he could devote but a few of his evening hours to 
 this arduous undertaking. Besides the casual interruptions to 
 which he was always subject, his lectures on grammar and 
 geography, already described, which he delivered on this and 
 several succeeding years, left him little leisure. Thus cir- 
 cumstanced, a rapid progress in the difficult task which he had 
 chosen would have been impossible. 
 
 The vacant moments of 1810 were devoted to preparatory 
 reading. In 1811 he began to write on the subject proposed ; 
 and in 1812 the work was so far advanced as to occasion the 
 request which is implied in the following letter to him. 
 
 'OIv DEAR Sir, 
 "I lose no time in answering your kind letter. I consider 
 the confidence which you repose in me as highly flatteiing. 
 I will readily endeavour to serve you in the matter which you 
 mention, as far as the narrow compass of my ability reaches. 
 It has been proverbially observed, that a standcr-by sometimes 
 sees more into the game tlian tlie player. Something like this 
 occurs in authorship. A writer who has long and intensely 
 directed his attention to one subject, in fixing upon certain par- 
 ticular favourite points, may be disposed to overlook oilier 
 points which are obvious and important in the views of an 
 differcnt person ; dwelling also upon parts, he may be deficient 
 
160 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW- 
 
 in the due proportion and the adjustment of the whole. Few 
 authors, when they examine a work of their own which has 
 been suffered to lie by for any season, retain the vividness and 
 partialities of first impressions so strongly as not to retouch, 
 retrench, or add something that then appears to be preferable. 
 The intervening interval of time places these authors in the 
 situation of indifferent persons, to a certain degree. 
 
 " As I really wish you well, and respect your abilities, I 
 should be glad to forward any work which may tend to your 
 credit and profit. : and I shall feel interested in the success of 
 your work. In writing for a prize, on such a subject, you must 
 be careful that your arguments be not too recondite and far- 
 fetched : obvious and easy arguments in such cases are gene- 
 rally the best, — those which occur to him who reads soberly 
 and seriously the book of Nature and the book of Revelation. 
 If you will send your MS. directed to me, to be left at the Rev. 
 George Moore's, Grampound, I will, without delay, peruse it, 
 and honestly do by it as I would wish to be done by ; and I 
 hope to retm-n it before the time which you mention. I hope, 
 in the course of the summer, to have the pleasure of seeing you 
 here. 
 
 " Believe me to be, 
 
 " Yours very truly, and in haste, 
 
 " William Gregor. 
 
 ''Creed, Jvhj 12, 1812." 
 
 On receiving the manuscript, with Mr. Gregor's valuable 
 remarks, Mr. Drew commenced the revision of his work, and 
 bestowed considerable labour on its abridgment — following up, 
 in this and other respects, his kind friend's suggestions. At 
 the same time he availed himself of the valuable hints of Pro- 
 fessor Kidd, who greatly interested himself in the progress of 
 the Essay, and corresponded frequently with its author. Thus 
 aided, he completed the revision, had the whole transcribed, 
 and early in 1813 again laid it before Mr. Gregor, who thus 
 expresses his opinion : — 
 
 " I return your manuscript. You will find my pencil notices 
 very few. I have read the whole over carefully, and I think 
 that you have very materially improved your Essay, by con- 
 densation, &-C. Your language is simple and perspicuous, and 
 in cases that demand it, it possesses great strength and energy. 
 I feel much interest in the success of your work. It possesses 
 so much merit, that it is not my wishes alone that make me san- 
 guine as to its success. It appears to me that you have pur- 
 
THE PRIZE ESSAY. 
 
 161 
 
 •lied the line marked out for you in the advertisement, and 
 fulfilled its conditions. And what momentous subjects have 
 you investigated ! Amid si/ch contemplations the world and the 
 things of the world appear but as the mere dust in the balance." 
 
 At the close of 1813 the Essay was forwarded to Aberdeen, 
 and, in company with about fifty competitors, submitted to the 
 appointed judges. Their decision was not announced until 
 August, 1815. The first premium was then adjudged to 
 William Lawrence Brown, D.D., Principal of Marisclial Col- 
 lege, Aberdeen, and tlie second to John Bird Sumner, M.A., 
 Fellow of Eton College. 
 
 Never having been so sanguine, in reference to the Essay, 
 as his literary friends were, Mr. Drew expressed less regret 
 than they did at his want of success. To a member of his 
 family, in a letter dated September 2, 1815, he uses these 
 words : — " It was while I was in Falmouth, that two letters 
 were forwarded to me from Professor Kidd, announcing the 
 decision of the judges on the Prize Essays. Of this no doubt 
 the papers have informed you. My expectations were never 
 very high; and the number of candidates had led me further to 
 moderate my hopes — so that I was prepared for a disappoint- 
 ment. I felt a little, for a few minutes ; but it soon subsided, 
 and left me as I was before. I have written to Mr. Kidd, fur- 
 nishing him with my motto, and requestmg him to take up the 
 MS., and keep it for his inspection until I desire him to for- 
 ward it. I am very anxious to peruse the Essays to which 
 the prizes have been adjudged." 
 
 His kind friend Mr. Gregor in a note of condolence observes, 
 " I had flattered myself that you would have gained one of the 
 prizes ; for I thought it highly probable that what you had 
 written would contain more original thoughts upon the subject 
 than the works of other candidates who had periiaps read 
 more deeply and learnedly than yourself. I am glad however 
 that you are so soon reconciled to the event, and that you in- 
 tend to publish your book in some form or other." 
 
 Professor Kidd observes, shortly afterward, " I have glanced 
 through several places of your Essay, and it strikes me at 
 present that the extreme profundity of thought which it con- 
 tains was against it. I hesitate not to say, that the one which 
 gained the prize was nothing like so deep." With this gentle- 
 man the MS. remained a considerable time, and was benefited 
 by his careful revision. Its publication, which was deferred 
 for several years, Mr. Gregor did not live to see. 
 
 O 2 
 
162 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 In an early part of this memoir Mr. Drew informs us that 
 he had escaped from the sea of politics. There was a proba- 
 bility, in 1812, that lie would again embark on it. The Me- 
 thodist Conference having this year become the proprietors of 
 all Dr. Coke's literary properly, the engagement between the 
 doctor and Mr. D. was so far modified as to leave the time of 
 the latter at his own disposal. Thus circumstanced, for a 
 season, without that regular occupation which he wished, he 
 seriously contemplated accepting the editorship of a provincial 
 newspaper. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Flindell, the then proprietor and editor of the 
 Cornwall Gazette, whose name appears in connection with Mr. 
 Drew's first publications, wishing to quit the county in the au- 
 tumn of 1812, ofiered to transfer to Mr. D. his entire concern. 
 Political discussion was now so far from his ordinary train of 
 thinking, that had he not been at the time whhout beneficial 
 employment, he would not have deferred a negative reply. 
 Situated as he was, he thought it expedient to consult some 
 friends on whose judgment lie placed considerable reliance. 
 Their opiniens were thus expressed : — 
 
 " LonJon, Harpur-street, Nov. 9, 1812. 
 " My dear Brother Drew, 
 " I would have answered your letter sooner, but, owing to 
 his continual engagements, could not get an opportunity of 
 consulting Mr. Butierworth. We are both of opinion that, for 
 the present, you had best accept of the editorstiip in question, 
 provided you find you are not obliged to sacrifice any moral or 
 spiritual principle : if you must put in every thing that a fiery 
 partisan of a proprietor may tliink proper, then you will have 
 notliing but mortification and heart-burning in the work. From 
 what I have seen of the Cornish papers, I am led to think 
 that, on both sides, they are outrageously violent — nay, abu- 
 sive. In such a cause as this you should not engage ; nor be 
 obliged to vindicate the measures of any set of men through 
 thick and thin. This I find both sides invariably practise, in 
 reference to the party they espouse. On any ground, I would 
 not wish you to have any thing to do with a republican paper : 
 that in question, being on the government side, has more to 
 recommend it. My maxims on this point lie in small compass. 
 The constitution is good, — it is the best under the sun, — 
 it can scarcely be mended. The executive, government, at any 
 time, may be bad, or may, in particular cases, adopt bad mea- \ 
 sures — and therefore should not be vindicated in those things : 
 
INTENDED NEWSPAPER EDITORSHIP. 
 
 16S 
 
 yet, in the general, the executive government must be sup- 
 ported, because, if it be not, down goes the constitution, and up 
 rises anarchy and every possible evil with it. In these cases, 
 you must be your own master, and not be obliged to follow the 
 dictates of a proprietor, who probably may not be able to dis- 
 cern the end with the beginning : — better be a hewer of wood, 
 or drawer of water, than be political slave to such a person. 
 Be free, and 
 
 « Scorn to have your free-born toe 
 Dragoon'd into a wooden shoe.' 
 
 " I believe the present murderous war has, on our side, been 
 wrong from the beginning. We should never have engaged in 
 it ; there was not one political or moral reason why we should. 
 It is the war of Pitt's ambition ; it is a crusade in behalf of 
 Popery ; it is — I have heard all the infantine reasons that have 
 been brought i'or its support. It has ruined Europe — it has 
 aggrandized our enemies — it is ruining us : no sophistry can 
 prove the contrary, or make it even plausible. 
 
 " If it be possible for me to serve you, in any way, I shall 
 be glad to do it. I shall keep my eyes about. 
 
 " With love to all my old friends, 
 " I am, my dear brother, 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 "A. Clarke. 
 " Mr. Samuel Drew, St. Austell, Cornwall." 
 
 "Lanaith, Monday, Nov. 16, 1812. 
 
 " Your letter of the 12th instant, my dear friend, I received 
 on Saturday night, the 14ih inst., and reply to your interesting 
 communications without loss of time. 
 
 " Doctor Clarke's opinion is worthy of himself. His politi- 
 cal creed I believe to be founded in truth, and his advice to 
 you excellent. All seem to be desirous that you should take 
 the editorship. The public press is, at all times, a most pow- 
 erful moral or immoral engine, and ought to be in good hands, 
 especially in such dread times as these in which we live. The 
 good providence of God seems to make plain paths for your 
 feet. 
 
 ***** 
 " More will be expected from you by the religious world 
 than will be reasonable, I fear. The post is honourable and 
 commanding ; and will, 1 doubt not, be very profitable, when 
 
164 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 you are at liberty to act altogether for yourself. Upon the 
 whole, I believe that you would be an acceptable editor to the 
 generality of the gentlemen. 
 
 " Such, my dear friend, are a few of the thoughts which 
 flow into my mind ; and I pray the Lord to direct you in the 
 way of benefit for your familj', and glory to His name and 
 cause. 
 
 " I remain, my dear friend, 
 
 " Most sincerely yours, 
 
 " W. Sandys. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew, St. Avstcll." 
 
 Thus advised, Mr. Drew proceeded to negotiate with Mr. 
 F. ; but the conditions proving on inquiry to be unsatisfactory, 
 he declined to accept the newspaper, and Mr. F. sought another 
 purchaser. 
 
 In May, 1813, under the title of " Scriptural and Philosophi- 
 cal Arguments to prove the Divinity of Christ, and the Necessity 
 of his Atonement," Mr. Drew published, at the request of his 
 audience, the substance of an extempore discourse delivered at 
 Redruth during the preceding inonth. Several of the argu- 
 ments being new, where novelty could not be expected, the 
 pamphlet attracted much attention. No method was taken to 
 give it publicity beyond Cornwall ; yet, in the following Sep- 
 tember, a second edition became necessary to meet the increas- 
 ing demand : and application being made for the discourse 
 from various parts of the kingdom, this edition was soon ex- 
 hausted. Early in 1814, a proposal was made by the proprie- 
 tor of Mr. Drew's larger works to purchase the copyright of 
 this pamphlet also : and such was the difference between his 
 fame at this time and his obscurity when he published his 
 " Essay on the Soul," that though he had received only twenty 
 pounds for that work, he sold this single sermon for an equal 
 gum. Since that period, we believe, it has passed through 
 several editions. 
 
 In Cornwall, the tenets of Socinianisin were, and still are, 
 but little known. At Falmouth there was a small Unitarian 
 congregation ; a member of which, who had been previously 
 acquainted with Mr. Drew, undertook to animadvert upon his 
 "Arguments," in a pamphlet that appeared in the autumn of 
 1813, and was termed by its author a "Reply." This per- 
 formance Mr. Drew thought carried with it its own refutation. 
 Yielding, however, to the views and wishes of others, he pub- 
 
PAMPHLETS AGAINST SOCDilANISM. 
 
 165 
 
 lished, in the following spring, a closely printed pamphlet of 
 eighty-four pages, entitled, " The Divinity of Christ, and the 
 Necessity of his Atonement, vindicated from the Cavils of Mr. 
 Thomas Prout and his Associates."' His reasons for this pub- 
 lication were thus given : — 
 
 " It was not long after the pamphlet which bears Mr. Front's 
 name was published, that several of my friends proposed to me 
 this q.uestion, ' Do you intend to answer it V To these my 
 reply was in the negative ; and the reasons which I assigned 
 were, that although he had preposterously called his perform- 
 ance 'A reply' to my dissertation on the doctrines now vindi- 
 cated, he had not overturned a single argument which I had 
 advanced, nor, only in a few instances, even attempted to do it. 
 In addition to which, my attention was so much engrossed, at 
 that period, with concerns wiiich I deemed of more importance 
 than his pamphlet, that I had no leisure to examine its parts, 
 if I had been so disposed. In the justness of my observations 
 they readily concurred ; but, from an apprehension that his 
 pamphlet might fall into the hands of some pious persons who, 
 being unacquainted with controversy, might not be able to dis- 
 tinguish Socinian sophistry from solid argument, they advised 
 me to strip off the visor which it wore, that the unsuspicious 
 might neither be led to forsake ' the fountain of living waters,' 
 through the delusion of false appearances, nor be induced 'to 
 turn aside from the holy commandment delivered unto them.' 
 
 " It was also urged, that although JNIr. Front's pamphlet 
 contained no reply to the arguments of mine, yet, as it included 
 a kind of abstract of Socinian argumentation, the coniidence 
 with which it was written might induce the superficial to think 
 that its reasonings might correspond with that tone of bold 
 decision which had tempted the professed author to throw down 
 the gauntlet, and even challenge the whole Christian world ; 
 and which, if it met with no opposition, might finally incline 
 him to substitute the boast of victory for the blush of shame." 
 
 The notice bestowed upon his sermon, the author little 
 anticipated. In the British Critic for 1814, it was mentioned 
 in terms of high approbation; and a passage in one of Mr. 
 Drew's letters to Mr. Polwhele intimates that in him he had 
 recognised his friendly reviewer. In the high places of Socin- 
 ianism its arguments were deemed sufficiently important to 
 demand further scrutiny ; and " A Comparative View of some 
 of Mr. Drew's Scriptural and Fhilosophical Arguments to prove 
 the Divinity of Christ, and the Necessity of his Atonement," 
 was published in London in 1815 ; but this professed exanai- 
 
166 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 nation of his reasonings he either never saw, or seeing did not 
 deem a reply necessary. 
 
 From several quarters he was nrged to take up tlie subject 
 of Redemption through the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, in 
 a more extended way than a sermon would permit, and fully ex- 
 hibit the inconsistency of Socinianism with reason and with 
 Scripture. "A complete treatise on this momentous topic, 
 written by you," observes one correspondent, " will be an im- 
 mortal work — a standard book, like Paley's Evidences — so well 
 done that it will not need to be done again." The subject would 
 have been perfectly congenial with Mr. Drew's views and 
 habits of tiiinking ; but other matters then forced tiiemselves 
 upon his attention, and he conceived that an essay on the 
 Trinity, upon which he knew his friend Professor Kidd to be 
 then engaged, would supersede any similar undertaking. 
 
 Dr. Clarke, in his correspondence with Mr. D., says, " I gave 
 the copyof yoursermon which you sent me to Lord Teignniouth. 
 He is uncommonly pleased witii it, and has been sending it about 
 among several other lords.'" Mr. Drew had the further satis- 
 faction of knowing that, in one case at least, the publication of 
 his sermon liad produced conviction. A friend in London, to 
 whose care he had consigned a few copies, writes thus : — " I 
 sold one of your sermons on the Divinity of Christ to a Unita- 
 rian, and have the pleasure to say that, from reading it, he has 
 been led to exchange his erroneous sentiments for the doctrine 
 maintained by you." 
 
 These pamphlets against Unitarianism were the occasion of 
 numerous letters to the author, of which we have space only 
 for the following : — 
 
 "Creed, June 17th, 1814. 
 
 "My dear Sir, 
 
 " Many circumstances have prevented me from thanking you, 
 as soon as I could wisli to have done, for your very kind letter 
 of the lOih of .May, and for your pamphlet which accompanied 
 it. I feel myself much obliged to you for both. 
 
 " The object of your pampiilet is to establish what I conceive 
 to be the very essence of our religion, and to vindicate impor- 
 tant and awful truths from cavils. I have read what you have 
 written with much satisfaction. There is considerable acu»e- 
 ness in your mode of treating your subject, and also originality 
 in your arguments, which, upon a question so often and so 
 variously discussed, was not to be expected. It is, I think, 
 ealculated to do much good: it will have weight with those who 
 
PAMPHLETS AGAINST SOCINIANISM. 
 
 167 
 
 are humble and teachable ; — but, alas ! there are those still in the 
 world ' who seeing will not see, and hearing will not under- 
 stand.' I fear that Mr. Prout, and men of his character and 
 opinions, will not easily be silenced. 'J'here is a flippant self- 
 sufficiency in the style and argument of all the Socinian writers 
 ■whom I have consulted, that seems to bid defiance to conviction. 
 After what the sober part of mankind would consider as a 
 defeat, they will patch up their broken weapons, and limp again 
 into the field : and when they have tired and disgusted both 
 opponents and readers, they will utter ihe shout of victory. 
 
 " The renowned Socinian champion Priestley, with all his 
 arts and antics of controversy, serves as their fliigel-man in the 
 field. Your parallel between Thomas Paine and Thomas 
 Prout happens very happily, and the coincidence is to be easily 
 traced up to natural causes. Such men cannot brook to be 
 hemmed in by the ordinary barriers which restrain opinions 
 within reasonable limits. 'Let us break their bonds asunder, 
 and cast away their cords from us!' — But ' professing them- 
 selves to be wise, they have become fools.' 
 
 ***** 
 
 " I was concerned to see, that, in the preface to your pam- 
 phlet, you mention domestic afflictions ; 1 hope they are re- 
 moved. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " Wm. Gregor." 
 
 In March, 1814, overtures were made to Mr. Drew, by a pro- 
 vincial publishing house, to write a History of all Religions, 
 similar to that of Evans or Bellamy. This he at first felt dis- 
 posed to undertake ; but the terms offered were not such as he 
 approved, and he was dissuaded from it by his friend Dr. 
 Clarke, who remarked to him, " You have earned a little repu- 
 tation by what you have already written : — it is the easiest thing 
 in the world for an author to write himself out of credit. Be- 
 ware of this." 
 
 A proposition from a London bookseller, to prepare a work 
 on Witchcraft, Demoniacal Possession, Supernatural Appear- 
 ances, <fec., he also declined. 
 
168 
 
 MFB OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 SECTION XX. 
 
 Death of Mr. Drew's father — Examination of Dr. KidJ's Essay on the 
 Trinity — Publication of the History of Cornwall — Mr. Drew is ap- 
 pointed by the Methodist Conference to write the Life of Dr. Coke. 
 
 Early in 1814 Mr. Drew had to follow his aged father to 
 the grave. The good old man had many years before relin- 
 quished his farm ; and taking a retired lodging, depended chiefly 
 upon his two children for subsistence. Labouring under the in- 
 firmities of more than fourscore years, his unusual octogenarian 
 vigour and activity were now rapidly declining ; and " like a 
 shock of corn fully ripe," he was about to be gathered into the 
 heavenly garner. There is so much simplicity and pious feel- 
 ing in a short letter written by him to his son not long before 
 his death, that its insertion, we think, will gratify the reader. 
 
 " My dear Son Samuel, 
 
 "When it is poor times with you, it is miserable times with 
 me. How can it be otherwise, when I am dependent upon 
 you ? — I have been asked whether you have been kind to me, 
 and my answer hath been, that a better son never was born, 
 and that your love and affection did sometimes overpower me. 
 Our good God can make a little go a good way. 1 have had 
 
 garments from Mr. P , I have shoes from my son-in-law, I 
 
 have money from you, and 1 iiave got grace from God, who is 
 the Author of all. Don't you, in any shape, reflect upon your- 
 self, fearing I have been waiuing any thing. While you live, I 
 have no gloomy thoughts of wanting ; and I am persuaded the 
 Lord will prolong your life for some wise purposes. When I 
 begin to reflect that you are my son, I can hardly bear the 
 honour — that I should be raised up to be so favoured — I, who 
 am not worthy of the ground 1 tread on — I, who was taken up 
 out of the horrible pit of mire and clay — and, what is more 
 than all, that I should be called a child of God. 
 
 " The Lord bless you — the Lord be with you— the Lord be 
 gracious unto you, and give you peace, and all your family, for 
 ever. Amen. 
 
 " From your unworthy father, 
 
 " J. Drew. 
 
 "iHtij/ 28, 1812." 
 
HIS father's death. 
 
 169 
 
 In a subsequent letter, after describing his bodily pains and 
 infirmities, he thus writes : " My dear children, 1 have to tell 
 you that death and I are very friendly. The thought of it is 
 more pleasurable to me than all the treasure and pleasure this 
 world can give. O could I but tell you the half of what I feel 
 and see ! It seems to me that the pearly gates stand open, and 
 the crown glitters before my ravished eyes. Always some- 
 thing is saying, ' The time of thy departure is at hand.' Some- 
 times my God doth so fill me with his presence that my body 
 is sinking to the dust. But still he doth not let me know when 
 the happy time shall be — I must live by faith." 
 
 To his eldest son, then residing at a distance from St. Aus- 
 tell, Mr. Drew thus describes his father's decline and disso- 
 lution : — 
 
 " March, 27, 1814. — Yesterday afternoon we brought grand- 
 father to our house. He is reduced to a mere skeleton. We 
 spread for him a bed in a covered cart, and he bore the journey 
 exceedingly well. We have put up a bed for him in my cham- 
 ber ;* so that I write and tend him. We have watched by him 
 regularly every night for nearly five weeks ; but we think it 
 will not be required much longer. He has no particular dis- 
 order. He is wiihout pain. Faintness and a want of breath 
 seem to form his principal complaint. It appears to be a gen- 
 eral decay of nature ; and he has no wish whatever for recov- 
 ery. In him I behold an evidence of what vital religion is able 
 to accomplish. Having made his peace with God, and lived in 
 a state of preparation for eternity, the prospects of death and 
 judgment are so familiarized to his view that he can contem- 
 plate both with tranquillity. May we be equally prepared ! 
 
 " April 27. — The event which we have long anticipated has 
 at length arrived. Your grandfather is no more. Last night, 
 about twenty minutes before ten o'clock, he departed this life, 
 in the full triumph of faith. May you and I follow him, as he, 
 for more than sixty years has followed Christ, that, like him, 
 we may at last end our days in peace ! On the preceding 
 eveuing, when I asked him how he was, he replied, ' Strong in 
 fahh — full of hope — my fears are wholly gone.' He has left a 
 journal of his life, which he kept for many years. In this he 
 has uniformly expressed his strong confidence in God, and his 
 desire to be dissolved and be with Christ. His wish is at 
 length consummated." 
 
 * Mr. Drew's common designation of his study. 
 P 
 
no 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 The friendly intercourse between Mr. Drew and the Rev. 
 Professor Kidd, of Aberdeen, since distinguished by the hono- 
 rary title of D.D., has been already noticed. During the sum- 
 mer of 1814, at the pressing request of its author, Mr. D. en- 
 gaged in the critical examination of this gentleman's " Essay 
 on the Trinity," — a work evincing great originality of mind and 
 patient research ; in which, besides availing himself of reve- 
 lation and tradition — the ordinary sources of proof, — the 
 learned writer has attempted a demonstration of the doctrine of 
 Three Divine Hypostases, from Space, Duration, and the Es- 
 sential Perfections of the Deity. This examination demanded 
 considerable time, and close, searching thought, which the pro- 
 fessor duly estimated. So much importance did he attach to 
 his friend's- opinions, that, in deference to tiiem, he recon- 
 structed a large portion of his treatise. Thus revised, it was 
 again submitted to Mr. Drew, and also to Dr. Adam Clarke, 
 who, in a letter to his Cornish friend, observes, "The pro- 
 fessor feels exceedingly anxious to anticipate all the possible 
 objections to his system ; and he very wisely depends much 
 on you, and very unwisely depends on inc. I consider his 
 work to be a mighty effort of a mighty m'ind ; and, should he 
 even fail in the main argument, his work, I am certain, will do 
 much good. He has dared nobly; and if he fall, it must be 
 by the sun's melting the wax of liis pinions, tlirough the sub- 
 limity of his flight. I believe there is not a Socinian in Britain 
 this day that will be able to demonstrate him to be wrong ; 
 and I fear not to pledge myself to eat the book, though a folio, 
 in which his chain of argumentation can be fairly proved to cut 
 the opposite way." 
 
 This treatise, of which Mr. Drew also expressed a very 
 high opinion,* was published in 1815: — it will, perhaps, be 
 for another generation duly to estimate its value. 
 
 In the autumn of 1814 Mr. Drew undertook l)is most volu- 
 minous work, the "History of Cornwall." Fortescue Hitchens, 
 Esq., of St. Ives, then known in Cornwall as a poet of con- 
 siderable merit, had, several months previously, issued pro- 
 posals for publishing a county history, in two quarto volumes. 
 To this many persons had engaged to become subscribers ; 
 but, before an outline of the work was prepared, the advertised 
 compiler was removed by death, and the materials he had pro- 
 
 * A long critique on this work from Mr. Drew's pen will be found in 
 the Wesleyan Methodist Magazine for 1815. 
 
HISTORY OF CORNWALL. 
 
 171 
 
 vided were lodged in the hands of the provincial bookseller 
 who projected the history. Having received the names of 
 many subscribers, he felt reluctant to let the publication drop, 
 and engaged Mr. Drew to execute what Mr. Hitchens con- 
 templated but scarcely began. 
 
 The work having been already advertised as coming from 
 the pen of Mr. Hitchens, it was not thought advisable to set 
 aside his name ; and Mr. Drew, not being punctilious about 
 pre-eminence, although the sole compiler, was content to be 
 called the editor of the book. " Such," he says in his Preface, 
 " were the circumstances under which it was announced to the 
 public, as' a History of Cornwall, compiled by Forlescue 
 Hitchens, Esq., and edited by Samuel Drew." Upon com- 
 mencing his labour, he found himself possessed of two sheets 
 and a half of his predecessor's manuscript, of which no use 
 was made, — his name as compiler, — and those resources which 
 Mr. Hitchens had not explored. 
 
 As a compilation the history was advertised ; nor did it ever 
 aspire to the reputation of an original work. Such pretensions, 
 in this or in any other history of modern date would be absurd. 
 "It is impossible," says Mr. D., " that those portions of an 
 historical work which enter into the regions of remote antiquity, 
 and detail the transactions of departed ages, can be other than 
 a repetition of known facts, though the combination of ideas be 
 new, and the language original." 
 
 Of the works of all his predecessors Mr. Drew freely availed 
 himself. It has been said that his History is but a rifaccia- 
 mento of the work of Lysons. Had the critic subjoined, " and 
 of a dozen otlier historians," he would have been nearer the 
 truth. But of no previous writer was Mr. D. the servile copy- 
 ist. Great pains were taken to correct the errors of other his- 
 tories, by applying to the best sources of information. Manu- 
 scripts and records were consulted ; and numerous queries, de- 
 signed to elicit truth, were proposed in a circular letter to the 
 clergymen, and to such persons of note in the county as were ex- 
 pected to interest themselves about any of the points of inquiry. 
 In arrangement and expression the History is new.* Except 
 those passages which are marked as quotations, the whole is in 
 
 * During its progress, Mr. D. was indebted to Mr. Polwhele for many 
 valuable suggestions and friendly remarks, which added to the value of 
 the work. In their corrcsiiondence at this time, though not on topics so 
 generally interesting as to justify insertion, it is pleasing to observe the 
 perfect cordiality and good-will of the writers. 
 
172 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 Mr. Drew's language ; and all the matter contained in 1500 
 quarto pages was sent to the printer in his own manuscript. 
 
 Notwithstanding the precautions taken to ensure correctness, 
 it is very probable that errors will be found in this, as in every 
 other local history. To such defects this species of composi- 
 tion is especially liable. From the changes which are continu- 
 ally occurring, the description which is true to-day will become 
 inapplicable to-morrow, and its veracity may be questioned by 
 the next generation. And, with reference to those statements 
 which, after much labour in comparing the different versions, a 
 writer gives from a conviction of their truth, something errone- 
 ous will probably be discovered by those who afterward inves- 
 tigate minutely. " As every man," to quote Mr. Drew's words, 
 " is an historian in his own parish, town, or village, the peasant 
 is frequently much better acquainted with facts which exist in his 
 own neighbourhood than the man who has prosecuted his in- 
 quiries with diligence, devoted his time to profound researches, 
 and who finally sits down to arrange his thoughts in philo- 
 sophical retirement." 
 
 The first portion of the history appeared in the spring of 1815. 
 After the publication of the eighth part, in 1817, the finishing 
 of the work was deferred nearly seven years, in consequence 
 of the publisher's failure ; and through this failure Mr. Drew 
 sustained a heavy pecuniary loss. In the annexed letter of his 
 to the assignees the reader will perceive his anxiety for -the im- 
 mediate completion of the History : the rejection of his propo- 
 sals was the chief cause of its long delay. 
 
 " To Messrs. Walker and Edwards, London. 
 
 " St. Austell, Nov. 11th, 1817. 
 
 " Gentlemen, 
 
 '» In reply to your letter of the 5th instant, I have to observe, 
 that I am particularly anxious the History of Cornwall should 
 be finisiied ; otherwise the subscribers will be seriously in- 
 jured, by having their sets left in a state of incompletion ; and 
 considerable sums now due from them to the bankrupt's estate 
 will be inevitably lost. I will therefore undertake to finish the 
 two remaining parts of the work, containing the same quantity 
 of matter as the former, for 60Z.* and six fine copies of the work, 
 when completed, in boards. These parts will also include the 
 history of the SciUy Islands. As soon as I have your deternii- 
 
 * The rate originally stipulated with the publisher. 
 
LIFE OF DR. COKE. 
 
 178 
 
 nation to proceed, I will resume tlie history, and finish it. The 
 MS. I have already written will make about 170 pages in print, 
 which I can send off immediately ; and while this is printing, I 
 shall have a sufficiency of time to finish the remainder. 
 
 " As I propose to furnish copy for the completion of the work, 
 with the probable loss of ] 00/., I shall expect to be paid as I 
 deliver the MS. The greater part will be delivered imme- 
 diately ; the remainder, I hope, will be ready before Christmas 
 next. 
 
 " Your specific and immediate reply to these particulars will 
 greatly oblige 
 
 " Your humble servant, 
 
 " Samuel Drew." 
 
 Before Mr. Drew had begun his History of Cornwall, the 
 death of Dr. Coke was known in England. It was the doclQr's 
 wish, expressed long before his embarkation to India, that, if 
 his life were published, Mr, Drew should be his biographer. 
 This was known to the executors, and by them communicated 
 to the Wesleyan Book Committee, who fully concurred in the 
 doctor's choice. In March, 1815, at the joint request of the 
 executors, Mr. Drew met them at Bath, to consult respecting 
 the Memoir. From Bath he visited Bristol, and from thence 
 proceeded to London, to confer with the Book Committee. 
 This was the first time of his travelling beyond the w'estern 
 boundary of Devonshire. By particular invitation, he preached 
 thrice in Bath, thrice in Bristol, and twice in London, — his ser- 
 mons in each place being greatly admired for their diction and 
 their depth of thought. One of his sermons in the metropolis 
 was delivered in the chapel at City-road, and the other at Great 
 Queen-street, Lincoln's Inn Fields. 
 
 At this time his hair was remarkably long ; he wore top-boots 
 and light-celoured breeches; and his whole appearance was so 
 uncouth and underical as to attract the particular notice of his 
 audience. As he ascended the pulpit of Great Queen-street 
 chapel, a gentleman, not knowing who lie was, said to himself, 
 " I wonder whom they'll send us next ! — I wish the preachers 
 would keep their own appointments. — I dare say this is some 
 country blacksmith. Well," thought he, when they were sing- 
 ing, " the fellow can give out a hymn." When the sermon com- 
 menced, the gentleman's first thought, after a sentence or two, 
 was, " He has picked that up somewhere — that's borrowed." 
 The next impression was, " Why, the man has read ; but we 
 shall soon see him come down to his level." As the sermon 
 P2 
 
174 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 proceeded, tlie preacher fully maintained the high ground he had 
 taken. His critical hearer was quite perplexed to make out 
 who or what he could be ; when, recollecting that he had heard 
 of the Cornish metaphysician's being in town, he felt convinced 
 that this must be the man. He now listened with intense in- 
 terest, and his prejudices were exchanged for admiration. The 
 gentleman afterward obtained an introduction to Mr. Drew, and 
 told him all that had passed through his mind. 
 
 In compliance with an oft-repeated invitation, Mr. Drew, 
 while in London, took up his residence at Dr. Clarke's, and, 
 through him, was introduced to many distinguished individuals. 
 Among others with whom he spent an evening in conversation 
 was the late Dr. Mason, of New-York. To Dr. Clarke's kind- 
 ness he was at this time indebted for an introduction to the Royal 
 Society and the Society of Antiquarians. Here also commenced 
 an intimacy between Mr. Drew and his friend's accomplished 
 daughters, with whom he continued a friendly correspondence. 
 
 Having made the necessary arrangements respecting the 
 biography of Dr. Coke, he returned to Cornwall in April, and 
 commenced the work. At the close of the ensuing Conference, 
 the resolution of that body, confirmatory of the engagement 
 with him, was thus intimated : — 
 
 " Raithby Hall, Lincolnshire, 
 "Aug. 29th, 1815. 
 
 " Mv DEAR Sir, 
 
 " Mr. Roberts, who is now with us, on his return from Man- 
 chester to Bath, has communicated to me the following resolu- 
 tion of Conference, August 17, 1815, which he has requested 
 me to transcribe and forward to you, being unable to do it him- 
 self from the increased failure of his sight. 
 
 " The resolution is, ' That the Book Committee shall have 
 authority to conclude, in conjunction with the executors of the 
 late Rev. Dr. Coke, an agreement, on such terms as they may 
 think fit, respecting a life of Dr. Coke, to be written by Mr. 
 Drew, of St. Austell ; and that, if such agreement be concluded, 
 the life so written shall have the sanction and support of the 
 Methodist connection.' 
 
 Mr. Roberts has also requested me to observe, that you 
 stand on the very same footing with us, Dr. Coke's executors, 
 as you did when Ave conversed together on the subject at Bath, 
 viz. that we are the only responsible persons to you for the re- 
 mimeration of your services. 
 
 " R. C. Brackenbury. 
 
LIFE OF DR. COKE. 
 
 175 
 
 " That you may be divinely strengthened and comforted in 
 the prosecution of your most laudable undertaking, is the sincere 
 prayer of your very affectionate friends, 
 
 " R. C. Brackenbdry, 
 
 "J. HOLLOWAY, 
 
 " T. Roberts. 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew, St. Austell." 
 
 Much time being occupied in the examination and arrange- 
 ment of documents for the Memoir, and the County History 
 being now in regular progress through the press, the execution 
 of the Life was less rapid than might have been wished. About 
 Lady-day (25th March), 1816, the manuscript was completed, 
 and despatched for the inspection of the executors and com- 
 mittee. 
 
 In this undertaking Mr. Drew experienced the difficulty of 
 serving many masters. On the 5th of November, when wri- 
 ting to a member of his family, he observes, " Two days since 
 I had the MS. of Dr. Coke's life returned to me, to undergo alter- 
 ations. I wish it had been returned sooner, as the long delay 
 will prove injurious to the sale. It has now been in the hands 
 of the executors, I believe, five or six months, for examina- 
 tion ; and all the animadversions that are made might have been 
 made within a fortnight. But it has been in London, with Mr. 
 Holloway ; in Lincolnshire, with Mr. Brackenbury ; and in 
 Bath, with Mr. Roberts. I have now to drive hard on the His- 
 tory of Cornwall, and to finish this MS." 
 
 To please the executors alone would not have been difiicult. 
 But the biographer had also to please the Book Committee, and 
 then to satisfy himself and the public, as to the faithfulness of the 
 narrative, and the correct delineation of character. In February, 
 1817, the Memoir was again forwarded for inspection. By a 
 memorandum given to Mr. Drew, Dr. Coke had constituted him 
 sole judge in this matter ; yet the revision and re-revision by the 
 various parlies occupied more time than the original composi- 
 tion, and called him once more to London. In relation to the 
 i bulk of the volume, his remuneration was ample ; yet for the 
 [ harassing repetitions of his labour he was scarcely compen- 
 j sated. 
 
 The work was published bvlhe Wesleyan Book Committee, 
 in 1817. 
 
 About this time Mr. D. writes, " Although, during the last 
 winter, my application was more intense than, on the score of 
 
176 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 prudence, I could wish, my health remains unimpaired. My 
 sight, however, begins to fail ; so that without glasses I can 
 scarcely see to write. The man who invented spectacles 
 did more to benefit mankind than all the heroes that ever ex- 
 isted, and his name is more worthy of being immortalized than 
 that of Caesar." 
 
 In 1816 the situation of postmaster at St. Austell became 
 vacant. Mr. Drew offered his services, and through the rec- 
 ommendation of Charles Rashleigh, Esq., who warmly inter- 
 ested himself in his behalf, he was appointed to the office. To 
 the same gentleman's kind intervention lie was subsequently 
 indebted for the transfer of the office to one of his sons. The 
 circumstance merits notice in these pages, because this gentle- 
 man being a strict churchman, while Mr. Drew, as a Methodist, 
 was reckoned a dissenter, it was a tacit admission of his moral 
 worth. To record the kindness is a tribute due to a generous 
 and departed friend. 
 
 SECTION XXI. 
 
 Mr. Drew contemplates a philosophical investigation of the tenets of Wes- 
 leyan Methodism — His Essay on the Being and Pcrffctions of God 
 published — He is urged to write on the Eternal Sonship of Christ — His 
 sentiments on that subject. 
 
 However competent Mr. Drew was to discharge faithfully the 
 duties of tlie historian and biographer, we think that in these de- 
 partments of literature he was out of liis congenial element — 
 that element in which he might be said to " live, and move, and 
 have his intellectual being." Of this he was conscious ; and, 
 even while laboriously occupied with the works descril)ed, his 
 thoughts dwelt upon loftier undertakings. 
 
 Those who take an interest in the determination of the great 
 question upon which philosophers and tiieologians have been 
 divided from the earliest ages, — whetiier man be a free or a ne- 
 cessary agent, — will scarcely peruse tiie following letters with- 
 out a feeling of regret that the contemplated investigation was 
 never accomplished. 
 
PKOPOSED INVESTIGATION. 
 
 177 
 
 " Sheffield, Methodist Chapel-house, 
 " Sept. 10, 1816. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " Permit one who is a stranger to your person, but an ad- 
 mirer of your talents, to address to you a few lines, on a subject 
 in which he feels a deep and a lively interest. I have heard, 
 with no small degree of pleasure, that you have expressed a 
 willingness to publish a refutation of the new modification of 
 Calvinism, as given to the world by the late Dr. Williams, in 
 his Essay upon the Equity of Divine Government, provided 
 you could meet with sufficient encouragement. Respecting this, 
 I am concerned that you entertain any doubts. The subject 
 proposed for discussion is of considerable interest, — your tal- 
 ents are well known, — and I hope the Methodists are still alive 
 to the importance of those doctrines which they profess to regard 
 as divine truths. 
 
 " If you will undertake this very desirable work, and publish 
 a volume upon the subject, I will gladly subscribe for at least 
 fifty copies ; and I think I can procure the sale of a still greater 
 number. 
 
 " The Rev. Messrs. Wesley and Fletcher did much to check 
 the progress of the Calvinian doctrine by proving that Jesus 
 Christ had tasted death for every man, and that the decrees of 
 God, according to which the eternal states of men will be 
 appointed, are not absolute and unconditional in their applica- 
 tion to individuals, but are respective of character. Modern 
 Calvinists, in effect, acknowledge the force of the arguments 
 contained in the writings of those venerable men, by giving up 
 a part of their old system. It seems, therefore, desirable that 
 the noble effors of W. and F. should be ably seconded, and the 
 errors of Calvin, in their various modifications, exposed. 
 
 " Dr. Adam Clarke, in his commentary, is promoting the 
 honour of God his Saviour, by demonstrating the Universality 
 of the Divine Philanthropy ; and nothing seems wanting but 
 the efforts of an acute metaphysician to expose the speculations 
 of Dr. W. and the divines of his school, respecting 'negative 
 causation,' &c. Every one observes that these are subjects 
 suited to your talents, and that, by the investigation of them, 
 I you would promote the honour of the adorable God, and the 
 I interests of genuine Christianity. 
 
 ^ Should you deem these lines an impertinent intrusion upon 
 your time and attention, I hope you will forgive the writer, 
 whose only motives in thus addressing you are, an admiration 
 
178 
 
 tIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 of your talents, and a regard for what he considers the pure 
 gospel of Jesus Christ. 
 
 " I am, dear sir, 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " Thomas Jackson. 
 
 *''JWr. Samuel Drew, St. AustelV 
 
 " St. Austell, Cornwall, Sept. 25, 181G. 
 
 "Dear Sir, 
 
 " In reply to your letter of the 10th instant, I cannot but say 
 that I have long wished to see the great and fundamental doc- 
 trines of Methodism fairly examined, and permanently estab- 
 lished, on the ground of philosophy and rational argument. 
 The Church of England has its Hooker, the Quakers have their 
 Barclay, and the Calvinists have their Edwards ; but Metho- 
 dism, though it has produced a Wesley and a Fletcher, has yet 
 to seek this philosophical ground. 
 
 " Conversing, some time since, with Dr. A. Clarke, on this 
 subject, I expressed my wish that such a work might be un- 
 dertaken, and intimated my willingness to assist in its compo- 
 sition. But my wish was, that it might be made a permanent 
 work of Methodism, in which its doctrines might be defended 
 on rational principles ; and that, passing through the ordeal of 
 such as were competent to judge, it might be considered as a 
 standard work among the body. Dr. C. most heartily approved 
 of the design, but plainly informed me, that if this work were 
 the production of tlie present day, I must undertake it, and navi- 
 gate the ocean nearly alone. He would readily render me such 
 personal assistance as his litne would allow ; but the work 
 must be my own. I intimated the improbability that Confer- 
 ence would officially sanction such a work, unless submitted 
 to their criticisms (to which, while the work remained my own, 
 I might not implicitly bow), and the difficulty of obtaining a 
 proper circulation unless I could procure some sanction ; that 
 a deep metaphysical work, which, in its details, must pursue 
 the windings of Destiny, and pass through all the diversified 
 terms of Liberty, Necessity, Freedom, Power, and Responsi- 
 bility, could not be expected to find a great number of readers, 
 especially among the Methodists, to whom it would be most 
 particularly interesting ; and, finally, that I should be involved 
 in a controversy with those whose opinions 1 must necessarily 
 oppose. To this his reply was, ' Produce the work, and you 
 need not fear of finding support.' Here the affair terminated, 
 and here it now rests. 
 
PROPOSED INVESTIGATION. 
 
 17D 
 
 " How far my name may be known as a metaphysician in 
 the literary world, I have no means of extensively knowing 
 I know that, in a local sphere, my publications have met with 
 a favourable reception. At present I am so deeply engaged 
 in a history of Cornwall which I am editing, that all my time 
 is completely occupied ; nor do I expect any leisure until it 
 shall be completed. After this, if favoured with health, I 
 shall prepare my essay on tlie Being of God for publication, 
 the success of which will influence my future conduct. For 
 my support in this essay I do not look exclusively to the 
 Methodists: — on the subject you recommend, all besides will 
 only furnish auxiliary aid. 
 
 " But, whatever tlie event may be, I sincerely thank you for 
 your kindness in ofiering so handsomely to assist me. Such 
 generous offers would furnish the sanction iliat I want. I am 
 well aware that what I do on this subject I must do quickly. 
 Life, with me, is on the ebb ; and the tide once past will return 
 no more. I scarcely know any work in wliich I sliould be 
 more ready to engage than in that which you mention : and 
 am inclined to think tliat the talents with which God has been 
 pleased to bless me lie immediately in that department. Still, 
 I am not without my fears whether I should meet with that 
 support which would be necessary ; and to risk an edition is 
 to incur a certainty of expense on, perhaps, a doubtful issue. 
 The cast of tliinking into wliich tlie meliiodislic mind is turned 
 is not, in general, very congenial to abstruse studies. Some, 
 who could not appreciate the tendency of a long chain of argu- 
 mentation, would condemn it, as destitute of spirituality ; and 
 others would fancy that every thing must be ' vain philoso- 
 phy' that was not crowded with chapter and verse. 
 
 " I am satisfied, however, that multitudes would rise above 
 this local prejudice, and hail such a work, if properly executed, 
 as the dawn of a new era in the history of jNIelhodism, and 
 use every exertion to promote its success. Could I assure 
 myself that 2000 copies would be sold, if life and health con- 
 tinued, I might seriously contemplate the undertaking. But, 
 prior to the arrival of your letter, I had dismissed the subject 
 from my thoughts for many months. At present I have no 
 time ; but if, through the course of another year, I can dis- 
 cover any general wish for the appearance of such a work, I 
 will revolve it seriously in my thoughts, and come to some 
 final decision. If I hear notliing relative to the subject, it is 
 rather doubtful whether I shall ever undertake it. At present 
 it seems to be a work that is allotted for another, the accom- 
 
180 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DEEV/. 
 
 plishment of which I shall never live to see. I cannot but 
 think that it would be a valuable acquisition ; but circum- 
 stances do not seem happily to combine for its completion ; 
 and we must wait the flight of future years to discover the 
 favourable coincidences which may be necessary. 
 
 " With my sincere thanks for your wishes to see the work 
 undertaken and accomplished, and your generous offer to 
 assist me in its publication ; and with my earnest desire for 
 your welfare, botli temporal and eternal, I am, dear sir, 
 " Yours most respectfully and sincerely, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Rev. Thomas JacJegon, Sheffield." 
 
 That Mr. Drew did, at one period, seriously purpose apply- 
 ing himself to this important inquiry is beyond a doubt ; and 
 the certainty of that intention occasions the deeper regret. In 
 a letter to one of his sons, of a date a few months subsequent 
 to the foregoing, he observes, " I am exceedingly glad that you 
 have animadverted on the Essay of Mr. Rogers.* Preserve 
 your papers. We may hereafter investigate in conjunction the 
 grand question of libekty and necessity." 
 
 To a very intimate friend Mr. Drew remarked, in a later 
 period of his life, that he had oflered to undertake such a work 
 as that proposed by Mr. Jackson, if the Conference would 
 take a thousand copies, or would employ him officially : this 
 they refused to do, and he consequently declined the risk of 
 publishing. His friend hinted that it was not yet too late, and 
 that perhaps he might write it when he retired from his other 
 literary engagements. "Ah! no," said he : "if I had done 
 it at that time, I might have produced something worth 
 while ; but ' there is a tide in the affairs of men' — that tide 
 with me is past, and I shall never attempt it. When 1 relin- 
 quish my present occupation, I intend 
 
 ' To husband out life's taper at the close, 
 And keep the flame from wasting, by repose.' " 
 
 Alas ! that his opinion, that he should not live to see the 
 accomplishment of the suggested undertaking, should have 
 been prophetic ! Not long after Mr. Jackson's proposal liis 
 time and talents became otherwise engaged ; and possibly he 
 
 * " Elements of Evangelical Religion," published in 1816, containing 
 an epitome of the modern Calvinistic theory of President Edwards and 
 Dr. Williams. 
 
ESSAY ON THE DIVINE PERFECTIONS. 
 
 181 
 
 thought, upon the appearance of Mr. Watson's Theological 
 Institutes, that his own labours in that field would be super- 
 seded. 
 
 The Essay on the Being and Perfections of God, which, 
 since the decision of the judges, had remained in the hands of 
 Professor Kidd, again claims our attention. To this friend 
 Mr. Drew writes, in June, 1817, "You have obliged me much 
 by suggesting the idea of putting my Essay into the hands of 
 Dr. Gregory of Woolwich. I know scarcely any literary 
 character under whose inspection I siiould be more solicitous 
 for it to pass. I know him only from his writings ; but from 
 these my confidence in his talents and probity lead me to ex- 
 pect an opinion which will either correct or confirm my own. 
 I will therefore thank you to forward the MS. for his exami- 
 nation as soon as you have done with it, that he may have full 
 time to inspect it williout breaking in upon his other engage- 
 ments. When you send it let me know immediately, that I 
 may write him on the subject. I hope you have already as- 
 certained that he will be able to examine my pages ; 1 would 
 not, on any account, presume to make an attack on his time 
 without his concurrence : it would be rude in a stranger thus 
 to force himself into his presence. After the MS. has passed 
 under his inspection and yours, I shall reperuse it, and pre- 
 pare it for the press." 
 
 Agreeably with Mr. Drew's wish and Professor Kidd's sug- 
 gestion, the unsuccessful Prize Essay was forwarded to Wool- 
 wich. In apprizing the author of its safe reception, in the fol- 
 lowing December, Dr. Gregory remarks, " I have derived so 
 much pleasure and instruction from the perusal of two of your 
 works, and have, in consequence, so highly appreciated your 
 qualifications for metaphysical disquisition, that I shall eagerly 
 anticipate a season of partial leisure to devote to an examina- 
 tion of your manuscript." Early in 1818, Mr. Drew received 
 his Essay, after an absence of nearly six years, accompanied 
 with the following letter : — 
 
 "Royal Military Academy, Woolwich, 
 " Feb. 23, 1818. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 " I now transmit you your valuable manuscript, with that of 
 Professor Kidd, and his ' Course of Sermons.' My few remarks 
 (which are, in truth, very hasty and superficial) you will find 
 lying at the title-page of vour own MS. 
 
 Q 
 
182 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 " I trust you will be able speedily to complete your revision, 
 and put your work to press ; and I most cordially wish it all 
 possible success, both as to the circulation and as to the ben- 
 efits which that circulation may, under the blessing of God, be 
 the means of producing, by leading wanderers to the fold of 
 Christ. 
 
 " I shall, of course, bend to your wishes and feelings respect- 
 ing reverend. 1 had an idea you were a moveable Methodist 
 preacher, and not merely what I believe your friends denomi- 
 nate a local preacher. But this is of small consequence. I 
 have long known and esteemed your character. I am not a 
 Methodist ; but am, I trust, a sincere lover of all good men. I 
 have the pleasure of well knowing and much esteeming several 
 in your connection. 
 
 " Sliould any thing occur in which I can be of the least ser- 
 vice to you, either in reference to your publication or in any 
 other way, make no scruple of addressing, 
 
 "My dear sir, 
 "Yours, with every good wish, 
 
 " Olinthtts Guegory. 
 
 " Mr. Samuel Drew., St. Austell, Cornwall." 
 
 The year 1818 was to Mr. Drew a season of comparative 
 leisure. After a long absence, the treatise which he esteemed 
 his masterpiece was restored to him. In its travels it had been 
 enriched by criticisms the most profound and elaborate ; and of 
 these he sat down to avail himself, in a final revision of his work 
 for tite press. 
 
 In the following January he issued proposals for publishing, 
 by subscription, in two octavo volumes, his " Attempt to demon- 
 strate the Being, Attributes, and Providence of the Deity." 
 About four hundred copies were individually subscribed for, and 
 two hundred by the booksellers and the Wesleyan Book Com- 
 mittee. A thousand copies were printed ; and in May, 1820, 
 the work made its appearance. The sale was not rapid ; and, 
 in 1824, Mr. D. accejjted a proposal of Messrs. Baynes and 
 Son to purchase the remainder of the impression. 
 
 Contrary to his expectations, his work was little noticed by 
 the Reviews. To its profundity, which was thought by his lit- 
 erary friends to be unfavourable to his performance when before 
 the judges, the silence of the reviewers may perhaps be attrib- 
 uted. It was a work which ordinary writers would not attempt 
 to criticise ; and its subject was not such as to gratify those 
 who read our literary journals in search of amusement. Only 
 
ETERNAL SONSHIP OF CHRIST. 
 
 183 
 
 one critique, proportioned to the importance of the treatise, we 
 believe, appeared. This was in the " Investigator," a journal 
 of recent origin, and since discontinued. In this tiie Essay 
 was highly applauded and judiciously analyzed — evidently by a 
 writer accustomed to metaphysical research. 
 
 Introductory to his work, the author observes, " What effect 
 the train of reasoning employed in these volumes may have on 
 the minds of others he presumes not to anticipate ; but, so far 
 as his own convictions have been concerned in the issue, he is 
 fully satisfied of their validity. Under this impression, he sends 
 the work into the world, not without a hope that it may, under 
 the Divine blessing, be rendered useful, by counteracting, in 
 some degree, the pernicious doctrines of those modern writers 
 who, under the specious pretext of promoting science, are ac- 
 tually endeavouring to deny the existence of God." 
 
 The biographer has now arrived at a period in his narrative 
 which compels him to touch contested ground. 
 
 About the years 1817 and 1818, the opinion of Dr. Clarke, 
 in his comment on Luke i. 35, respecting the appellation of the 
 Second Person in the Divine Essence, occasioned the publica- 
 tion of various controversial papers and pamphlets. The per- 
 sonal attachment between the commentator and Mr. Drew, and 
 the coincidence of their views on the disputed subject, being gen- 
 erally known, he was strenuously urged by Mr. Butterworth and 
 other influential persons publicly to espouse Dr. Clarke's cause. 
 Dear to him as was the reputation of his friend, he regretted 
 the needless agitation of the public mind, and declined prolong- 
 ing an unprofitable discussion. Yet, feeling that a debt was 
 due to justice, to friendship, and to gratitude, and knowing how 
 extensively the IMethodists in Cornwall sympathized with Dr. 
 Clarke's wounded ieelings, he suggested the propriety of pre- 
 senting to him an address from the Cornish societies generally, 
 expressive of unabated attachment and esteem. To this sug- 
 gestion there was an immediate response ; and the address, nu- 
 merously signed, was forwarded to Dr. Clarke. 
 
 The question then agitated it is not the biographer's prov- 
 ince to discuss. Truth demands only a fair exhibition of Mr. 
 Drew's sentiments ; and these he is enabled to give in Mr. D.'s 
 own words. In the two letters which follow, his views of the 
 controversy, and its occasion, are explicitly shown. The first 
 letter is to a Wesleyan minister of eminence, who thought with 
 
184 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DRETV. 
 
 Dr. Clarke, and wished Mr. Drew to enter the controversial 
 arena. The other terminates a long epistolary discussion of 
 the subject with Dr. Kidd of Aberdeen. 
 
 " St. Austell, April 10th, 1818. 
 
 *' My dear Sir, 
 
 "I was not at home when your letter reached this place, 
 otherwise I would have noticed it much earlier. I have been 
 into several parts of the west, and wherever I have been, 
 * What do you think of Mr. Watson and Dr. Clarke V has been 
 a leading question. Aware of these interrogations, I omitted 
 reading Mr. W.'s pamphlet, because I was not disposed to 
 make any observations which might tend to agitate the public 
 mind, already in too great a state of ferment, for what I cannot 
 avoid calling a contemptible trifle. But I have noticed in every 
 company, during my fortnight's tour, a decided majority in fa- 
 vour of Dr. Clarke. 
 
 " Since my return, I have been so busily employed that I 
 have not been able to give Mr. Watson's pamphlet an attentive 
 perusal. I have, however, looked into several of its pages, and 
 am inclined to think that it would not be attended with insu- 
 perable dilTiculiies to detect the fallacy of his reasoning, and to 
 vindicate both Dr. Clarke and the views he has taken, from the 
 conclusions which Mr. W. has too hastily drawn. The real 
 subject of dispute being merely the proper or improper use of a 
 given phrase, theology is wholly out of tlie question ; and Mr. 
 W. had no more occasion to introduce it, than either himself or 
 his predecessor Moore had to insinuate that Dr. Clarke was 
 verging to Socinianism. They have actually magnified a mole- 
 hill into a mountain. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " On some of Mr. W.'s positions I can scarcely withhold a 
 smile. He labours hard to prove that there may be nothing 
 contradictory in a contradiction ; that for a given fact to be 
 contradicted, means the same as for it to be incomprehensible ; 
 and tliat, although positions may be destructive of each other, 
 this furnishes no proof why we should hesitate to believe them ! 
 I do readily allow that credulity may swallow what faith may re- 
 ject ; but perhaps credulity and faith mean the same thing ! 
 ***** 
 
 "The divine nature of Christ was either begotten or it was 
 not. If begotten, then it was not underived, and, consequentl)', 
 cannot be eternal ; but if not begotten, then the eternal narne- 
 shipi rather than sons/dp, must be given up. As the term Eier» 
 
ETEUNAL SONSHIP OF CHRIST. 
 
 185 
 
 nal Son is not to be found in Scripture, no man has a right to 
 teach for doctrines the commandments of men ; and it is highly 
 illiberal to load with opprobrious epithets a man %vho hesitates 
 to subscribe to what he conceives to be contradictory proposi- 
 tions. 
 
 "On Mr. Watson's pamphlet I have made a few remarks as 
 I have read, but would much rather that its contents should 
 be buried in oblivion than that the controversy should be pro- 
 longed. 
 
 " Wishing every blessing, I remain, 
 
 "Yours most sincerely, 
 
 " Samuel Dkew." 
 
 " St. Austell, Cornwall, Nov. 25, 1818. 
 " My very dear Sir, 
 
 " On the subject of tlie eternal namcship or sonship, as it is 
 called, my objection to adopt the phrase lies within a very nar- 
 row compass. In my view, the term Son necessarily includes 
 commencement of existence : but the adjective eternal necessa- 
 rily precludes all commencement of existence. Here, then, we 
 have two ideas which are mutually subversive of each other. 
 If you, by any process of reasoning, can remove the contradic- 
 toriness of these ideas, then all my further objections are of little 
 weight. But until this be done, all that I have ever seen ad- 
 vanced amounts to nothing. I do not doubt that the Person 
 denominated the Son of God is eternal in his essence ; but I 
 doubt whether the term Son is suitable to express that idea. 
 The point in debate is not, therefore, a doctrine, but a question 
 of philology ; altliough I find that all wiio have written in favour 
 of eternal sonship have lost sight of the philological import of 
 the phrase, and have conjured the phantom up into a doctrine, 
 in which fancy has seen the Trinity involved. To these points 
 any person who would convince me of the propriety of that 
 phrase must direct his arguments, otherwise all is lost labour. 
 You have advanced many things in your last, now before me, 
 in favour of the eternal personality of the divine nature of the 
 Son ; but I can find nothing that makes it appear that the term 
 Son can be made to express eternity of existence. To this 
 point I had, in all my letters, I believe, called your attention; 
 but found, from your replies, that I had invited you to it in vain ; 
 and I was not solicitous to prolong a controversy which pre- 
 saged a termination just where it began. 
 
 " When Mr. Watson's pamphlet on the Eternal Sonship ap- 
 peared, I had some thoughts of writing a reply to it ; but fear- 
 Q2 
 
180 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 ing such a reply M'ould not be attended with any beneficial con- 
 sequences, I desisted until Conference with the Methodists 
 was past. When that period arrived, I found that nothing was 
 said ; and, as the affair was likely to sleep in its own insignifi- 
 cance, I dismissed from my mind all thoughts of renewing the 
 subject. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 " I frankly acknowledge that I am not convinced by your 
 arguments in favour of the Eternal Sonship ; but I can have no 
 objection that you view them in all that force which I have not 
 been able to perceive. The reason why I cannot attach weight 
 to your arguments is, that you have not met my objection ari- 
 sing from the incompatibility of the two terms eternal and Son. 
 The term Son seems founded on earthly analogy ; but I am 
 at a loss to conceive jt possible that this term can express un- 
 originated existence. I should not ask hott) these things can be : 
 an explanation that should render their mode of existence com- 
 prehensible is not to be expected. All I can hope to learn from 
 investigation is, that no contradictor}' ideas are included in the 
 proposition ; and, when this is perceived, all besides must be 
 resolved into the unfathomable ocean of infinity. But if, on the 
 contrary, in any proposition, two ideas are introduced which are 
 mutually subversive of each other, it is totally impossible that 
 such a proposition can become an object of my belief ; and, con- 
 sequently, no interpretation of Scripture can be right which in- 
 evitably leads to such contradictory ideas. On this simple 
 ground I take my stand ; and no moral argument can dislodge 
 me from it, unless the contradicloriness of the ideas included in 
 the terms eternal and Son be done away. This is a task which 
 I do not recollect any person has attempted to perform, amid 
 all that has been said and written on the present occasion ; nor 
 have I any expectation of ever seeing the arduous task accom- 
 plished. To raise an outcry of heresy, as several have done, 
 against Dr. Clarke,* and to bring forth the authority of fathers 
 and councils, will form but a poor substitute for argument. It 
 
 • An American correspondent of Mr. Drew's, in a letter dated August, i 
 1818, referring to tlie year 1785, when Dr. Clarke was stationed at St. I 
 Austell, observes, " I remember a sermon he preached, from 'Thou art I 
 my Son ; this day have I liegotten thee.' Old Charles Slade was pres- I 
 ent. The opinion of which you speak was then advanced, and it seemed ' 
 to shed now light into the old man's mind. Heresy was cried up, by the 
 Calvinists especially, and by all others who had pinned their faith upon the 
 ancient Trinitarian system. Some, however, dared to think for them- 
 selves, and thought that Adam might be right after all." 
 
REMOVAL TO LIVERPOOL. 
 
 187 
 
 does not require a long life to learn that the defenceless part of 
 every creed is generally guarded with anathemas. If, my dear 
 friend, you can advance any thing to prove that Son or begotten 
 can be united to eternal without involving contradictory ideas, I 
 shall have no objection to the use of these phrases. I do not 
 want arguments to prove a Trinity, nor to prove the eternity of 
 Him who is known to us as the Son of God. I only doubt the 
 propriety of the terms used to express that idea. 
 
 " I remain, my very dear friend, 
 
 " Yours most sincerely and truly, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Rev. Professor Kidd, Aberdeen.^'' 
 
 SECTION XXII. 
 
 Mr. Drew's removal to Liverpool — His friendly reception there — Com- 
 mencement of the Imperial Magazine — Intimacy with Dr. Clarke's 
 family — Destruction of the Caxton premises by fire. 
 
 We open now a new page in the history of Mr. Drew's life, 
 — his removal from his native county. Tliis occurred in Jan- 
 uary, 1819. Tlie occasion will, we think, be presented to the 
 reader more agreeably in the original correspondence than in 
 any other form. 
 
 " Millbrook, Prescot, Lancashire, 
 "Oct. 29, 1818. 
 
 " My dear Sam, 
 
 "I now write to know what you are doing, and the reason 
 is the following. The partnership between Messrs. Nuttall, 
 Fisiier, and Dixon is dissolved ; and tlie whole is now in the 
 hands of Mr. Fisher. When I found he was quite settled, 1 
 earnestly recommended you to him, as a writer and editor, 
 and soon proved to him that it might be to his advantage to have 
 such a person in his employ ; at tlie same lime, that he should 
 maKe it worth your wliiie to be thus employed. He came into 
 my plan, and 1 told him I would write to you. I told him I 
 hoped his salary would be a rising one ; but that you must 
 commence with a sufficiency to keep the wolf from the door. 
 This he quite admitted ; and I believe any thing I could in con- 
 science and honour name, he would not hesitate to give. 
 
 "Now, I most cordially recommend the place, — and have no 
 
188 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 doubt of its being a comfortable maintenance for you for life : 
 and if you will work, to get things out of hand (for he is a 
 wonderful man for despatch), then you will well agree. You 
 may enter on the work any hour you please, — the sooner the 
 better. 
 
 Now, can you come ? and will you come, first, and spy out 
 the land ? This, I think, would be well. You will find in 
 Liverpool such society as will be pleased with you, and you 
 ■with them. Drop me a hint what you would expect, that I 
 may the better know how to sliape my course. I need not say 
 that it will be a pleasure to me to have you near me ; and 
 perhaps my direction and advice, in some things which I should 
 know better than you, may be useful. 
 
 " Write immediately. I think you will vastly like the coun- 
 try, the place, and the society. I shall get you the acquaintance 
 of the first literary men in England. 
 
 " Yours, dear Drew, affectionately, 
 
 " Adam Clarke. 
 
 " Mr. Samuel Drew, St. Austell, Cornwall.''^ 
 
 " Millbrook, Prescot, Nov. 9, 1818. 
 
 " Dear Sam, 
 
 " Late on Saturday evening I received your letter; went in 
 the same evening to Liverpool, and laid it before Mr. F. ; and 
 have now to communicate the following information : — 
 
 " 1. To answer Mr. F.'s purpose, you must live in Liverpool. 
 Such is the nature of his business, that out of it you would be 
 of little or no use to him. 
 
 " 2. He considers Dr. Coke's terms as nothing by which he 
 should be guided ; as he knows not of any similar example in 
 the trade. 
 
 " 3. He thinks that you might leave your present business 
 in the hands of your family, at least for a few months, and 
 come down and begin work ; and in that time you could look 
 about you. He wishes to publish the first number of a Maga- 
 zine on the 1st of .January, 1819; and, to compile that num- 
 ber, you should be immediately on the spot. The time is very 
 short ; I fear, too short. 
 
 " 4. You can have a comfortable lodging at one of our 
 friends', and reasonable ; and therefore there would be no need 
 of an immediate family establishment. 
 
 " 5. Though he would not bind himself to any thing in fu- 
 ture, yet he wishes, honafde, if you and he agree, and you 
 Bhould find it your interest, and he his, that the employment 
 
RESIDENCE IN LIVERPOOL. 
 
 189 
 
 should be perpetual ; and such is the nature of his business, 
 that he will ever need an editor. The business having been so 
 long established, there is no doubt of its continuance ; and I 
 do think, such are your abilities, that the employment will be 
 employment for you while, perhaps, you live. 
 
 " 6. Though he has several houses and tenements, yet he is 
 not willing to find you any; because you might possibly think 
 unsuitable what he might deem otherwise : and therefore he 
 he thinks, if you come, you must provide for yourself. 
 
 " 7. Such is the nature of liiverpool, now certainly the 
 first commercial town in the nation, that, with respect to the 
 articles of life — food and raiment, you may live as cheap as 
 in any other part of the country ; and I should think that a 
 house adequate to the wants of your family might be got for 
 even less than 20Z. per annum. Indeed, I know some very neat 
 and convenient places in Liverpool for twelve guineas ; and if 
 you come and live near me, you shall have, for seven guineas, 
 a house with four rooms, each fifteen feet square, and a nice 
 little garden. 
 
 " 8. Lastly, and most important, he proposes to give you, 
 for the first year, you giving up your whole time to his work, 
 
 and finding yeurself every thing in the house way, pounds. 
 
 I pulled it up from guineas to the above sum ; and, my 
 
 dear brother, I do think it is only under the influence of an 
 especial providence, that a man in your circumstances, or a 
 literary man of any kind, in such times as these, can get so 
 much per annum. Now take advice ; and speak your mind 
 speedily to 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " A. Clarke. 
 
 Mr. Samuel Drerc, St. Austell.'" 
 
 " Liverpool, Nov. 29, 1818. 
 
 "Dear Drfw, 
 
 " In mo.st things I am obliged to adopt the maxim, ' What- 
 soever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might and to this I 
 am obliged to add, do it speedily, that one work may not inter- 
 fere with another. On Thursday evening I received your letter 
 at MiUbrook ; on Friday morning I sent off an abstract of it 
 to Mr. Fisher; Saturday I came into Liverpool to converse 
 with .Mr. F. on the subject ; and now sit down to give you the 
 result. I have engaged lodging for you, provisionally, with a 
 particular friend of mine, a young widow, a thorough Methodist, 
 
190 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 and about three minutes' walk from Caxton, Mr. F.'s office ; 
 where you are to have a bed-room, with the use of her parlour, 
 
 and good plain wholesome food, for per week. Mrs. W. 
 
 has two quiet, nice children, a boy and girl, 12 or 14 years of 
 age: from them, therefore, you need expect no trouble nor 
 ■molestation. 
 
 " As you say you cannot remove sooner than the end of next 
 month, so Mr. F. does not urge it ; though it will sadly derange 
 the plan of his projected Magazine, which, I am afraid, in that 
 case, he cannot publish before March. However, I think, in 
 the mean time, you might be projecting some plan of proceed- 
 ing. He intends the Magazine to be thoroughly, not profoundly, 
 literary, and thoroughly religious, — every thing of God and 
 godliness to have place in it, and every thing in the compass 
 of knowledge by which the human mind and heart may be 
 improved. He has not even fixed on a name. He wishes 
 also, that while every thing that is sound in divinity, and truly 
 scriptural and rational in experience, may have a decided and 
 prominent place in it, whatever may be profitable in science, 
 especially to all the middle classes in life, should be carefully 
 attended to. Contributors should be courted on all sides ; and 
 your correspondence should be made as strong and respectable 
 as possible. On this plan, draw up a prospectus as soon as 
 you can. 
 
 " Mr. F. projects also a history of America, in its present 
 state, merely for the use of those who may be incited to emi- 
 grate thither ; giving a true statement of the nature of the 
 country, — the soil and its productions, the commerce, value of 
 land, rent of houses, taxation, &c. &c., difficulty or facility of 
 settlement, expense of outfit, and of furniture and utensils 
 there ; and any fair balance between its advantages and dis- 
 advantages compared with the mother country. For these 
 points he must seek out the proper materials for you. Such 
 a history should be introduced with an account of the discovery 
 of America, state of its original inhabitants, as to civilization, 
 religion, &.c., and its gradual colonization from the commence- 
 ment to the present time. All to be included in one good 
 octavo volume. These are the two principal things at present ; 
 and I give this notice of them that you may mould them in 
 your mind, and lay and model your plan as soon as possible, 
 and that you may appear very wise and knowing when you 
 come. I have done now all 1 think I should do in this busi- 
 
RESIDENCE IN LITEEPOOL. 
 
 191 
 
 ness : — if I can help you, you may command me. God direct 
 you in all things. 
 
 " I am, my dear Drew, 
 
 " With love to all friends, yours, 
 
 " A. Clarkk. 
 
 " Mr. Samuel Drew, St. AustelV^ 
 
 From the following domestic letters of Mr. Drew some 
 further particulars of this period of his life may be gathered. 
 They also pleasingly exhibit his affectionate disposition, pious 
 feeling, and characteristic simplicity of manners. 
 
 "Liverpool, Ja». 20, 1819. 
 " My DEAR Wife and Children, 
 
 "As I have much to write in which we are all deeply 
 interested, I shall not detain you with giving in detail the 
 particulars of my journey hither. 
 
 " On Sunday I heard Dr. Clarke preach, and on Monday 
 had an interview with him and Mr. Fisher, on the occasion of 
 my visit. This business I find to be that of editing a Maga- 
 zine, which Mr. F. intends publishing. I intimated my desire 
 to do my work in St. Austell, but soon found that this would 
 be impracticable, as the editor must be almost continually on 
 the spot. Inquiring how many hours I should be expected to 
 work, I was told that the office hours were from seven to 
 seven. To this I positively refused to submit, declaring that I 
 would not think of coming, at all events, until nine in the 
 morning, and that, as to any otlier hours, I would rather stand 
 on the ground of honour than suffer the independent spirit of a 
 Cornish author to wear a shackle. This produced a laugh, 
 and an a ;quiescence ; Mr. F. only observing, that on certain 
 occasions a much greater attention would be required than at 
 others, the propriety of which I should soon discover. With 
 regard to terms, I found them, in all other respects, just as Dr. 
 Clarke represented them. 
 
 " Having made these arrangements, Mr. Fisher proposed 
 sending immediately to Londou for a new fount of type for the 
 kMagazine ; but I desired him to desist until I received your final 
 p-eply ; as I considered myself only come to reconnoitre, and 
 [make my report. 'I'his letter is now written to have your 
 answer, which you must consider as final. 
 
 '• With my dear wife and family I think I could make myself 
 comfortable in Liverpool ; but to be separated from all, I should 
 be unhappy anywhere. I am now about three hundred and 
 
192 
 
 LIFE OF 8AMUIX DREW. 
 
 seventy miles distant from you ; but it does not affect my spirits. 
 I have every thing I can wish, to ensure my comfort, that 
 strangers can bestow. My spirits are really far belter than I 
 expected. Your letter will guide their movements. 
 
 " I am your affectionate husband and father, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 " Jan. 22. — Yesterday I preached twice, to a large con- 
 course of people, many of whom came, I suppose, to hear a 
 Cornishman. I thank God 1 was able to speak without much 
 perturbation, and have no doubt of being soon put to work 
 again. I shall, however, take care of my health. I have this 
 day removed to my lodgings. I dined with Mrs. W., and had 
 a good piece of boiled beef, with greens and potatoes. It 
 looked like home." 
 
 " Liverpool, Feb. 12, 1819. 
 " My dear Wife and Childkkn, 
 
 " I have now come to a resolution to continue in Liverpool 
 for some time. Indeed, I put off Mr. Fisher so long as I 
 could with any convenience ; and as soon as he knew I had 
 received your letter, he came to me for my final determination. 
 I have therefore given him my word to continue at least one 
 year. This being the case, you must not expect to see me, if 
 all be well, until July or August, and then only as a transient 
 visiter. My likeness has been taken, and is now engraving, 
 for the first number of the ' Imperial Magazink,* or Compen- 
 dium ofHeligious, Moral, and Philosophical Knowledge.' 
 It will be published, here and in London, on the 31st of March 
 next, price one shilling. I am now busily employed in writ- 
 ing a review of several books. My health is good. I have no 
 indisposition whatever; and, on the whole, find myself more 
 comfortable than I could have expected. I may have almost 
 as many acquaintances as 1 please. Dr. Clarke has been 
 projecting a plan for me to deliver, on some future day, public 
 lectures on metaphysics. But this is in its infancy, and very 
 remote. We have two public libraries, to which I have access 
 
 " Fch. \5th. — I have again seen Dr. Clarke, w ho has most 
 seriously urged the propriety, and public as well as private 
 advantage, of my delivering a course of lectures on the Nece 
 sary Existence and Essential Attributes of God. Such a cours 
 of lectures, he says, will be quite new, not only in Liverpool, bu 
 perhaps in England, and in the world. He thinks that I may 
 easily put lOOi. into my pocket, perhaps 200Z. ; and finally 
 realize as much more by publishing them. 
 
 * " This title is of Dr. Clarke's choosing." 
 
RFSIDKNCE IN LirERPOOL, 
 
 193 
 
 " I this morning took a wali<, about half a mile out of town, 
 and visited the Botanic Garden. The walks are beautiful, — 
 the hot-houses very extensive, — and the road to it is exceed- 
 ingly clean. There is scarcely a shrub in the kingdom of 
 which they have not some. But nothing in this garden pleased 
 me more than a beautiful thrush, singing merrily from one of 
 the trees. I fancied that it was a Cornish tune. 
 
 "I find that the longer 1 stay in Liverpool, the more obsta- 
 cles will be thrown in the way of my return. On your coming 
 hither, my dear wife, you perceive, I have no room to write. 
 The Methodists say, that until you come, they do not think 
 they have perfectly secured me. May God bless us during our 
 separation ! With sincere love to all, and unceasing prayers for 
 your temporal and eternal welfare, 
 
 " I am, my dear wife and children, 
 
 " Yours most affectionately, 
 
 " Samuel Drew." 
 
 " Liverpool, March 13, 1819. 
 " My dear Wife and Children, 
 
 " I doubt not you will rejoice with me in the contents of the 
 letter which will accompany this. I received it yesterday from 
 Mr. Freeling, and trembled while I opened it, from an appre- 
 hension that it contained some unpleasant news respecting the 
 post-ofBce. I now hope that our fears on this account are at 
 an end ; and I cannot but think it exceedingly kind in Mr. Free- 
 ling to write me a letter with his own hand, announcing the 
 interesting intelligence. I hope to write him a letter of thanks 
 on Monday next for his kind attention. Situated as we now 
 are, nothing, I hope, will be lost by my removal to this place. 
 
 " I am well aware that you, my dear wife, cannot come to 
 me at present ; and as my aim is to promote the welfare of the 
 dear chddren, I will rather put up with my inconveniences than 
 cause any derangement in our family concerns. I did not 
 know how much I loved you until I was separated ; nor can I 
 express with what affection I long to embrace you. I calculate 
 upon the number of monilis that will elapse before I shall see 
 you. When I come, it will be time enough for us to make 
 arrangements for your removal. I have every thing to make 
 me comfortable which it is in the power of strangers to bestow, 
 and perhaps am out visiting four evenings of each week. 
 Many, I believe, are invited, on these occasions, to be introduced 
 to me, and to have me introduced to them. I can plainly per- 
 ceive that the people are anxious to fix me here ; but all enter- 
 
194 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 tain suspicions that I am not securely anchored until my wife 
 come. I have preached every Sunday, except one, since I have 
 been in Liverpool. I seem to hold a kind of middle rank be- 
 tvceen the local preachers and the travelling. 
 
 ***** 
 
 «' Whenever the weather will allow, I always take a walk 
 in the morning, about a mile, towards the country, to look on 
 furze bushes and a few daisies. On this account I am but 
 imperfectly acquainted with the town. I know east and west, 
 north and south, and that is nearly all : I might know much 
 more if I would. Mr. Fisiicr has procured for me a share in 
 a Literary and Philosophical Society. He does every thing 
 to throw me into public notice, and seems to spare no expense. 
 * . * * * * 
 
 " Among the Methodists, three thousand in number, we have 
 many men of affluence and high respectability; and I am, on 
 the whole, treated here much as I am in Falmouth, when I go 
 thither. If our Magazine will pay, I do not think that any pe- 
 cuniary considerations will induce me to leave Liverpool ; and 
 the fate of this work a few months will decide. I have my 
 health as well as I ever had it ; and, except when the tide of 
 home rushes upon me, 1 am tolerably comfortable. In Liver- 
 pool I have met with many persons of superior intelligence, 
 both male and female; though all cannot be thus designated. 
 The greatest annoyance 1 find is from the smoke, particularly 
 in the morning, when I go out to walk; but afterward it blows 
 off, and the sun shines as in St. Austell. 
 
 " I have now nothing, my dear wife and children, to add to 
 this epistle but my prayers for your welfare. I trust that God 
 will give to us a right understanding in all things, and keep us 
 in the narrow way that leads to eternal life. May tiie Lord 
 Almighty bless and keep us, and may we meet in health and 
 peace ! So prays your affectionate husband, father, and friend, 
 
 " Samuel Drew." 
 
 In a letter, dated June 9th, Mr. Drew remarks: — "Our 
 Magazine goes on exceedingly well. We have sold, thus far, 
 upwards of 7000 of each number. Yesterday I had the honour 
 of being introduced to Professor Dugald Stewart. He knew 1 
 me by name, was free of access, but was not well. He has 
 been in the vicinity of Exeter nearly all the winter, and is novr 
 on his return to Scotland. He is a plain, rough-faced Scotch- 
 man, leaving all external marks of dignity for such as have 
 nothing besides to recommend them. He had seen my Essay 
 
RESIDSNCE IN LIVERPOOL. 
 
 195 
 
 on the Soul, and he gave me his name as a subscriber to my 
 new Essay." 
 
 To the information given in the preceding letters we may 
 briefly add, that in July, 1819, Mr. Drew paid a short visit to 
 his family, and returned again to Liverpool. During this visit, 
 he put his Essay on the Being and Attributes of God into the 
 printer's hands, at St. Austell ; and through the kindness of a 
 gentleman, then one of the representatives of Cornwall in Par- 
 liament, was enabled, without expense, to revise all the proof- 
 sheets in Liverpool. In June, 1820, he was joined there by 
 his wife and youngest daughter ; but, for domestic reasons, 
 Mrs. D. returned to Cornwall in the following November, and 
 continued in a state of voluntary separation until the removal 
 of the Caxton establishment from Liverpool to London. 
 
 Mr. Drew's intimacy with the members of Dr. Clarke's fam- 
 ily was at this time strengthened by frequent visits. The 
 afTection of the doctor for his Cornish friend may be inferred 
 from the fact, that when he first saw him, after his arrival at 
 Liverpool, he put his arms about him, and kissed him on both 
 cheeks; and so much gratification did the doctor feel in his 
 society, that, though overwhelmed with literary occupation and 
 ministerial duties, he sirove to secure a season of leisure when- 
 ever Mr. Drew could find time to call. Admired and be- 
 loved as he was by these kind friends, his disregard of fashion 
 and personal appearance often furnished them with a subject of 
 merriment ; until the females of the family, who prided them- 
 selves in his acquaintance, setthem.selves seriously to reform his 
 costume. 
 
 " Long was the man, and long was his hair, 
 And long was the coat vi^hich this long man did wear," 
 
 was an epigram of Dr. Clarke's precisely applicable to Mr. 
 Drew, when he made his first appearance in Liverpool. He 
 was passive under the management of his young friends ; and 
 they did not pause until a manifest change in his exterior was 
 effected. Being congratulated, when he next visited Cornwall, 
 upon his juvenile appearance, he replied, " Those girls of the 
 doctor's, and their acquaintances, have thus metamorphosed 
 me." 
 
 Among Mr. D.'s papers were found the following lines, ad- 
 dressed to him, about this period, by one of his young female 
 pupils in the science of metaphysics. 
 
196 
 
 WFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 " What is the Mind of Man, and where its home? 
 Is it confined to earth, and earth alone ? 
 Or shall we mount the ethereal plains, and see 
 The mind unshackled roam at liberty 1 
 Pass through the starry vault, — it rests not there. 
 Seek still beyond, and gain the farthest sphere ; 
 Scale e'en high heaven : — 'tis there alone we find 
 Bounds that enclose and circumscribe the mind. 
 
 From Him it sprang whose uncreated might 
 Struck from the abyss of darkness radiant Tight : 
 Who willed, — and Chaos witnessed Order's birth ; 
 Who spake, — and clothed with flowers the smiling earth. 
 Moulded by Him, the human frame began : 
 He said, — and Life through every member ran : 
 He breathed, — and Soul to man was instant given. 
 Its author God, — its homo, its hope in heaven ! 
 
 No wonder, then, that, while to earth confined, 
 It seeks its source, — the Uncreated Mind : 
 Through abstract paths to tread its conscious way, 
 Up to the regions of eternal day : 
 To leave all nature and the world behind. 
 Press through them all, and yet through all to find 
 That ruling Power unseen, but felt and known, 
 Which governs all, free in Itself alone ! 
 
 Soar on, my friend ; and, as you gain the height 
 Where the dim clouds of matter yield to light. 
 The soul replumes its out-stretched wings, to see 
 The heights, the depths of God's Immensity ! 
 He formed tlie Soul up to Himself to tend ; 
 This its design, its being, and its end. 
 Unfcaring, then, go scale His high abode. 
 And, leaving Nature, hasten up to God ! 
 
 "M. A. C. 
 
 *'^pril 3, 1820." 
 
 To Mrs. Drew, soon after lier return to Cornwall, Mr. D. 
 writes, " I have been down three evenings at Mr. Ashton's, 
 and delivered lectures to them on grammar. The whole fam- 
 ily were wonderfully delighted : and, on my last going, Mr. 
 Kaye, Mr. Michael Ashton and his wife, who were present, 
 joined in importuning me to deliver lectures in a more public 
 manner. This, perhaps, I may atteinpt. Yesterday I dined 
 with Dr. and Miss Clarke, at Mr. Byrom's. When some of 
 the company liad withdrawn, Mr. Byrom asked me about my 
 lecture at Mr. Ashton's. Tiiis communicated the first inform- 
 ation to Miss Clarke, and to Mrs. Forshaw, who was also 
 present. They both upbraided me with not acquainting them 
 with my intention ; and Mrs. Forshaw is resolved to come 
 next Friday." — In this quotation may be traced the origin of a 
 notice, in Mr. Drew's handwriting, a copy of which is given 
 
RESIDENCE IN LIVERPOOL. 
 
 197 
 
 in the note below.* It was found in an .old pocket-book of his 
 after his decease. The intention which it expresses we believe 
 was not fulfilled. 
 
 As a local preacher, Mr. D. officiated regularly, in and near 
 Liverpool. He also frequently preached occasional sermons 
 at Manchester, Salford, Stockport, Oldham, Macclesfield, 
 Northwich, Chester, Warrington, and other places in that part 
 of England. 
 
 From domestic affliction Mr. Drew was not exempt. During 
 his stay in Liverpool, he had to sympathize with a beloved 
 daughter, placed in circumstances of peculiar trial, and to ofler 
 his consolations to the family of a friend who shared in the be- 
 reavement. 
 
 In one of his visits to Falmouth, about the year 1812, he be- 
 came acquainted with a respectable Methodist family of his 
 own name, but claiming no relationship. Acquaintance led to 
 intimacy, and intimacy ripened into friendship. The friend- 
 ship between the parents subsisted equally among the children ; 
 and this led, in 1821, to a matrimonial alliance, which, within 
 six weeks, was dissolved by death. 
 
 This family aflliciion rendered Mr. Drew desirous to revisit 
 Cornwall for a short period ; but the immediate cause of his 
 leaving Liverpool as a place of residence will be found in the 
 calamitous occurrence thus described : — 
 
 " Liverpool, January 30, 1821. 
 
 "My dear Wife, 
 "On Sunday evening Mr. Fisher went to London; in which 
 place he now is, and where he intended tarrying about three 
 
 * " Samuel Drew, having been solicited by several intelligent friends, 
 VPith whom he has the happiness of being acquainted, to deliver some lec- 
 tures on the principles of English grammar, begs leave to assure them, 
 that he is willing to make the attempt, when he finds a sufficient number 
 disposed to encourage the undertaking. 
 
 "Confining himself chiefly to Etymology and Syntax, he thinks that 
 his observations may be comprised within about twenly-six lectures. 
 Two of these he purposes delivering every week, in a commodious room 
 to be appointed, and on such evenings and hours as may be most con- 
 venient to the majority of those who attend. His terms will be one guinea 
 for each person. 
 
 " Such of his friends, and of the public, as are willing to favour this 
 proposal, are requested to signify their intention, either to Mr. Thomas 
 Kayc, Mr. John Ashton, Mr. Michael Ashton, or to S. Drew, No. 13, 
 Upper Newington. 
 
 ''Liverpool, November 18, 1820." 
 
 R2 
 
198 
 
 irFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 weeks. But, alas ! we now expect him to return this week, on 
 business which involves his whole property, and the welfare of 
 his family. 
 
 " On Tuesday morning, about three o'clock, I was awakened 
 by a loud knocking at our door, and calls of ' Mr. Drew ! 
 Mr. Drew !' On my inquiring the reason, a lad said, ' Get up 
 quickly ; for Caxton printing-ofTice is on fire.' 1 made haste ; 
 for, on looking out at the window, I saw the whole firmament 
 in a blaze. On reaching the spot, I found that the fire had pro- 
 ceeded with so much rapidity that nothing could avert the pro- 
 gress of the flames. The windows were all broken out with 
 the excessive heat ; and the whole building, from the ground- 
 floor to the summit, was one unvaried mass of flame. Some 
 hundreds of persons were collected, and several engines ; but 
 nothing was of any avail. The men belonging to the office 
 had been there some lime, and, by risking their lives, had res- 
 cued from the flames about one hundred and fifty reams of 
 paper, nearly all the copperplates, and a small quantity of 
 type : — all besides was consigned to destruction. I entered my 
 office to secure my papers ; but the heat was scarcely support- 
 able, and the light occasioned by the flames was as bright as 
 day. I succeeded in rescuing the greater part; but many of 
 them, I fear, are since irrecoverably lost. Presently, the roof 
 of the great building fell in, and, carrying with it floor after 
 floor (for the whole was seven stories high), gave free passage 
 to the smoke, ashes, burning paper, and other combustible mat- 
 ter, which mounted in the air, and whirled like falling rockets. 
 Some pieces of flaming paper were carried near Everton, more 
 than a mile distant. After some time, the eastern wall fell in 
 with a horrid crash. But even the brick and lime scarcely 
 deadened the fire, which continued to burn with irresistible 
 violence, until all the coinbustible matter within its reach was 
 nearly consumed. The flames then subsided ; but the books, 
 paper, and other articles capable of feeding the devouring 
 element, though buried in the rubbish, continued to burn all the 
 day, and all last night ; and even yet, the whole is not extin- 
 guished. Thus Caxton printing-office, which on Monday even- 
 ing was a stately pile of building, now lies a heap of ruins, a 
 dread memorial of desolation by fire. 
 
 " From what cause the fire originated has not been ascer- 
 tained. Every thing was secure about half-past eight. It is 
 presumed, that some sparks from sky-rockets which were put 
 up near the buildings might have entered through some crevice ; 
 but of this there is no evidence. The fire was first discovered 
 
RESIDENCE IN LIVERPOOL. 
 
 199 
 
 a little before one, by a watchman, who sprang his rattle, and 
 gave the alarm. It first appeared in the north-west corner, in 
 an upper room ; and, unfortunately, near an hour elapsed be- 
 fore any engines could be procured, — they being employed about 
 a fire in another part of the town. They came too late to be 
 of any service. By this disaster nearly one hundred persons 
 are out of employ. The property was ensured to the amount 
 of about 36,000/. ; but this will not cover the loss. Printing- 
 presses, copperplate-presses, and thousands upon thousands 
 weight of type, together with whatever the fire could not con- 
 sume, now lie buried in the ruins. This day a large part of 
 the wall fell ; and other parts are hourly expected to descend to 
 the general heap. No lives were lost, and, I believe, no serious 
 accident sustained. What the event will be, respecting the 
 publishing business, so far as I am concerned, I cannot say. 
 Mr. Fisher is expected to return on Friday or Saturday ; after 
 which, when something is determined on, I hope to write you 
 again. 
 
 " Give my love to all the dear children and family, and be- 
 lieve me to be 
 
 " Your affectionate husband, 
 
 " Samuel Drew." 
 
 This unlooked-for catastrophe, though it did not impede the 
 publication of the Magazine, deranged for a season the general 
 Caxton business, and led the proprietor, at the following mid- 
 summer, to transfer his establishment from Liverpool to Lon- 
 don. Availing himself of the temporary cessation of business 
 which this removal occasioned, Mr. Drew took his departure for 
 Cornwall ; and, after a short visit there, commenced his labours 
 in the metropolis. 
 
 I 
 
200 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 SECTION XXIII. 
 
 Mr. Drew's first residence in London — Effect of his preaching on a Roman 
 CathoHc — His degree of A.M. conferred — Death of Mrs. Drew — Its 
 consequences — Mr. D.'s attachment to Cornwall — He dechnes a pro- 
 fessorship in the London University. 
 
 In entering upon the last scene of Mr. Drew's literary la- 
 bours, the mind involuntarily reverts to the circumstances of his 
 early life. However marked the contrast between the com- 
 mencement and the close of his career, there was a gradual 
 progression ; and, in tracing it, the successive openings of 
 Providence cannot be overlooked. When he first became known 
 as an author, a literary friend predicted that he would one day 
 become a resident in the metropolis, as " the only place where 
 his talents would be properly rewarded;" and, a few years af- 
 terward, his friend Dr. Clarke wished that he were in London, 
 because there he would be " brought into being, and made 
 useful to himself." The prediction and the wish were now 
 accomplished. 
 
 Here Mr. Drew had the pleasure of becoming acquainted 
 with many of the literati ; of renewing his former intimacy 
 with Mr. Britlon ; and, upon Dr. Clarke's removal from Mill- 
 brook, of finding himself again united to his friend and coun- 
 sellor. Here, too, he was joined by his wife and three of his 
 children. 
 
 His ordinary occupation being similar to that in which he was 
 engaged while in Liverpool, it needs no further notice than that 
 all the works issued from the Caxton press passed under his 
 supervision, and rendered his continual presence at the office 
 necessary. For this reason, he resided near Islington, contigu- 
 ous to which the printing department of the Caxton establish- 
 ment was situated. Here he held the office of class-leader 
 among the Methodists ; and, in London, as in Liverpool, he 
 seemed to fill an intermediate station between the travelling and 
 the local preachers. At first he was considered as the com- 
 mon properly of all the circuits; and he received appointments 
 in each. But being a resident in the City-road, or first Lon- 
 don circuh, his name, for some years, appeared only on that 
 plan ; though his frequent invitations to preach charity sermons 
 
RESIDENCE IN LONDON. 
 
 201 
 
 in the vicinity of the metropolis left him very few vacant Sab- 
 baths. 
 
 It was not long after he came to London, that a Roman Catho- 
 lic female, passing the City-road chapel, while Mr. Drew was 
 preaching, had the curiosity to stop and listen. Her attention 
 was forcibly arrested by his address, and she made various in- 
 quiries respecting the preacher, especially when and where he 
 would preach again. More than once she attended his preach- 
 ing, and felt so deeply interested in his discourses as to seek 
 an introduction. She was invited to his house ; and the result 
 was, that after a few conversations she abjured the tenets of 
 Romanism, and became a devout Protestant ; connecting her- 
 self, we believe, with the Wesleyan Methodists. 
 
 In May, 1824, the degree of A.M. was conferred upon Mr. 
 Drew, by Marischal College, Aberdeen. The diploma was pre- 
 sented by Henry Fisher, Esq., of the Caxion press, who felt 
 great pleasure in thus showing how highly he valued Mr. 
 Drew's services. The instrument is dated May 6th. Pro- 
 fessor Kidd, in a letter to Mr. Drew, of the 11th, writes thus : — 
 " I congratulate you most cordially on your new title of A.M. 
 Our college has enrolled you among its Alumni ; and I hope 
 this will be honourable to both parties. It was your gratituda 
 that first drew my attention to you. Your expressions of grate- 
 ful regard to Mr. Whiiaker, of Ruan Lanyhorne, first attracted 
 my notice of your name. You are indebted to Mr. G 
 for first interesting himself in procuring you this honorary dis- 
 tinction. To him I know your heart will feel grateful." 
 
 The gentleman to whose kindness Dr. Kidd refers, informing 
 Mr. Drew of what the college was about to do, observes, " Dr. 
 Brown, the principal, remarked, that he should feel particu- 
 larly gratified in assisting to confer an honour on one who was 
 his antagonist in the Prize Essay, and Dr. Glennie is equally 
 desirous of lending his countenance." 
 
 In his diploma Mr. Drew was inadvertently styled reverend. 
 Assuming this as an authority, the epithet, unknown to him, was 
 prefixed to his name, as editor of the Imperial Magazine ; and 
 hence he was thus designated in the newspaper reports of his 
 speeches at the anniversaries of religious and charitable insti- 
 tutions. An acquaintance, who knew his aversion from being 
 so called, inquired his reason for sanctioning it, and received 
 this answer : — " I candidly confess that I dislike the title, but it 
 is fashionable in this place, and has been given to me without 
 my knowledge or approbation. This was the case on the cover 
 of the Imperial Magazine. After the cover had gone from my 
 
202 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DItEW. 
 
 hands to the press, the Una in which it appears was introduced, 
 and I first learned it was there about two days after the 
 Magazine was circulated. I might afterward have had the 
 Rev. taken out; but I thought that this would have created 
 among the Methodists, in many places, some unpleasant sur- 
 mises, as though I no longer officiated as a local preacher. 
 Such is the history of this reverend affair." To which we 
 may add, that, because of his expressed dislike, it was discon- 
 tinued. 
 
 In 1827-8 Mr. D. undertook to revise and bring through the 
 press a theological work, in two octavo volumes, by Stephen 
 Drew, Esq., barrister-at-law, Jamaica, the value of which has 
 not yet been fully appreciated. Its title, — " Principles of Self- 
 Knowledge,"* — being inadequate to describe the nature of the 
 book, may have operated to its prejudice. Having lirst shown, 
 by a train of luminous reasoning, that some revelation of the 
 will of God to man must exist, the writer proceeds to demon-' 
 strate, from a complete investigaiion of its evidences, that Chris- 
 tianity, evangelically understood, is that revelation, and is a part 
 of that universal law by which happy and holy beings can any- 
 where be governed. 
 
 To this gentleman, although of the same name, and a native 
 of the same county, Mr. Drew was a personal stranger. In 
 consequence of the high estimation set on his metaphysical 
 writings, the request was made ; and he found so much intrin- 
 sic merit in the work, as to induce him very readily to undertake 
 the office. When exj)rcssing his desire for Mr. D.'s critical re- 
 vision of his manuscript, Mr. Stephen Drew remarks, " The 
 MS. was presented to the Wesleyan Missionary Committee, to 
 be published, if they thought tit, for the benefit of the mission 
 fund ; but this, consistently with their rules, they could not do. 
 It was long under the eye of our friend Mr. Watson, who gave 
 me a very favourable judgment of it, and wished that it might 
 be primed. I then desired him to submit it to you." 
 
 The publication of his treatise the author did not live to see. 
 To this gentleman's sister, Mr. Drew, on first inspecting the 
 MS., wrote, " I find it, on perusal, to be a work of merit, and 
 one that is likely to be useful to such as patiently investigate j 
 first principles. It is a work that will do the writer credit, andj 
 prove highly serviceable to the church of Christ." Subse- 
 quently he observes, " I have read every line with attention ; 
 
 * Longman and Co., Paternoster-rowr. 
 
RESIDENCE IN LONDON. 
 
 208 
 
 and, whether I consider the work as a literary production, or a 
 theological treatise, it needs no emendation." 
 
 After its appearance, Mr. Drew expressed his regret that a 
 treatise of such sterling merit should have been so little noticed 
 in the public journals. Some surprise, too, he felt, that the 
 existence of a book so intrinsically valuable, which was de- 
 signed for the benefit of the Wesleyan mission fund, and writ- 
 ten by a gentleman to whom the Jamaica mission was greatly 
 indebted for pecuniary aid and magisterial protection, should 
 not have been made known to the Methodist connection, through 
 the medium of its Magazine. Alluding to this paucity of criti- 
 cal information, he remarked, " The plain rea?on is, the book 
 will require much time and thought to examine. This very few 
 are disposed to bestow ; and many are afraid of risking their 
 reputation in giving an opinion on a work they but partially 
 understand. Silence can tell no tales." 
 
 There is nothing more in the early period of Mr. D.'s abode 
 in London that demands specific notice. Pursuing a regular 
 occupation, one day followed another with little variety of inci- 
 dent. His hands were full of work; and idle time, while his 
 strength was unimpaired, he neither had nor wished. With his 
 children he maintained a frequent correspondence ; nor were 
 his distant friends forgotten. In one of his letters he says, 
 " Besides the Magazine, I have, at this time, six different works 
 in hand, either as author, compiler, or corrector. 'Tis plain, 
 therefore, I do not want work ; and, while I have health and 
 strength, I have no desire to lead a life of idleness : yet I am 
 sometimes oppressed with unremitting exertion, and occasion- 
 ally sigh for leisure which I cannot command." This inces- 
 sant application to study was insensibly wearing him out. 
 
 Every third year he paid a montli's visit to Cornwall. It 
 was a necessary relaxation, and was, to himself, his family, and 
 his acquaintances, a season of mutual enjoyment. At one of 
 these triennial holydays, he and his children were called to sus- 
 tain a bereavement which preyed upon his spirits, and gave a 
 shock to his constitution. 
 
 In the summer of 1828, he was accompanied, as usual, in 
 his excursion to Cornwall, by his beloved wife, whose health, 
 
 ough naturally delicate, had improved during her residence in 
 London. After spending a fortnight at St. Austell, they pro- 
 ceeded to Helston, about thirty miles distant, where other 
 ranches of the family reside. When about to leave St. Aus- 
 tell, Mrs. Drew complained of being unwell ; but having made 
 
204 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 arrangements for being met at Truro, the intermediate town, 
 by a carriage from Helstoii, she would not consent to a delay. 
 On her arrival, she retired immediately to bed, — from which 
 she never rose. The next day there were alarming symptoms 
 of cholera ; the day following her case was deemed hopeless; 
 and shortly after midnight she breathed her last. She was then 
 in her fifty-seventh year. 
 
 As a wife, her excellence may be inferred from Mr. Drew's 
 grief at her decease. Her maternal affection was exhibited in 
 her constant solicitude for her children's present and eternal 
 welfare. Her faith and conduct, as a Christian, were such as to 
 warrant the expectation which her last moments verified : — 
 "She died in resignation to the will of God, and relying on 
 Christ for salvation." Such was Mr. Drew's concise but com- 
 prehensive statement to a friend, a few days after his loss. A 
 private memorandum found in his pocket-book runs thus : — " My 
 dear wife Honour died, about twenty minutes before one, on the 
 morning of Tuesday, August 19th, 1828, at the house of Mr. 
 John Read,* Helston, Cornwall, and was buried, on the Friday 
 following, in the churchyard of that place." 
 
 The effect of this sudden calamity upon feelings so acute as 
 Mr. Drew's can be imagined only by those whose sensibilities 
 are as refined as his. " When my wife died," he has often 
 been heard to say, " my earthly sun set for ever." Yet he 
 bore the stroke with the submission of a Christian, and, as a 
 Christian father, administered comfort and counsel to his sorrow- 
 ing children. The consolations of religion, and the resignation 
 of faith, to which, a few months previously, he had directed the 
 attention of his eldest son and wife, on the loss of two of their 
 children, now administered relief to his own mind. 
 
 "I have no doubt," he then observed, "that these afflictive 
 dispensations are sent in mercy ; and, if we could always con- 
 nect causes and effects together, we should be ready to say, 
 
 ' For us they sicken, and for us they die.' 
 
 The light of eternity will, however, soon beam upon the shad- 
 ows of time ; and the tears of this life, if properly improved, j 
 will be a prelude to the smiles of the next. Such strokes cuti 
 the fibres that twine round the heart, and anchor it to the world M 
 and when we follow our departed friends to the grave, the tiesl 
 yerge towards that future world where all must go, and where 
 
 * Mr. Drew's son-in-law. 
 
HIS WIFE S DEATH. 
 
 205 
 
 parting will be no more. On these occasions, judgment and 
 feeling are at war ; and time only can reconcile their decisions. 
 We learn, hence, the mutability of all earthly hopes, prospects, 
 and expectations, and the necessity of confiding on the rectitude 
 of the Divine will, even when we cannot trace the causes of 
 those mysterious dispensations." 
 
 On the 30th of August, Mr. Drew and his youngest daughter, 
 henceforward the companion of his solitude, took their depart- 
 ure from the spot where his wife's remains and his own joye 
 were buried, and returned to London. 
 
 The poignant feelings of the man religion and philosophy- 
 controlled, but could not subdue. From this period his spirits 
 lost much of their buoyancy, and the approaches of age became 
 more evident. Incessant occupation withdrew his thoughts by 
 day from the painful subject ; but they returned with fresh in- 
 tensity when the shadows of evening fell. Though his body 
 retained much of the activity of youth, and the vigour of his 
 mind was not sensibly impaired, he now began to feel his lit- 
 erary avocations a task rather than a pleasure, — to look upon 
 himself as in a stale of exile from Cornwall, which held almost 
 all that was dear to him, — and occasionally to sigh for the pe- 
 riod of his release from labour, and of his final rest in the place 
 of his birth. 
 
 A circumstance which occurred not long before Mrs. Drew's 
 decease rendered his constitution more susceptible of a sec- 
 ond shock. One Sunday morning, in May, 18:J8, he was ap- 
 pointed to preach at Tottenham, five miles from London ; and 
 he had also engaged to preach in the evening at Spilalfields. 
 Having dined with a friend, after performing his duty at Tot- 
 tenham, he waited in vain for a coach to carry him to London, 
 and was compelled to set olT on foot. Being late, he walked 
 at his utmost speed, a distance of six miles, and, bathed in per- 
 spiration, arrived at the chapel almost exhausted, and immedi- 
 ately ascended the pulpit. From the consequence of this over- 
 exertion, and a severe cold which followed, he never properly 
 recovered. Though he could walk two or three miles as well 
 as ever, a longer distance would overpower him. To this cir- 
 cumstance he frequently referred with much regret, as having 
 Ibeen more injurious to his constitution than any other occur- 
 'rence. 
 
 This inroad upon his previously firm health, followed by the 
 loss of his wife, will explain the tone of despondency so per. 
 ceptible in many of his subsequent letters. Two of these, 
 S 
 
206 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DEE\y. 
 
 written shortly after his return to London, give a correct repre- 
 sentation of his views and feelings. 
 
 " 38 Newgate-street, London, 
 " October 10, 1828. 
 
 My dear Sister, 
 
 " Your kind and consoling letter, which you sent by some 
 private hand to Plymouth, reached me in safety, by post, from 
 that place. I was glad to hear that you were all well, and can 
 easily conceive that you sympathize in niy affliction, the sever- 
 ity of which I feel in all its force. My bereavement has ren- 
 dered the world to me a dreary blank ; as all our dreams of 
 crowning ' a youth of labour with an age of ease' are totally 
 defeated ; and, like Selkirk, ' I must finish my journey alone.' 
 I am, however, aware that 'troubles spring not from the dust, 
 nor sorrows from the ground ;' and I trust I can say, ' The 
 Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name 
 of the Lord.' I have received a wound, the poignancy of which 
 time may mitigate, but which nothing can fully heal. 
 
 " We are in the same apartments we have occupied for 
 nearly three years, and, if all be well, shall continue here until 
 the 25lh of March. Mary is housekeeper, and we have a ser- 
 vant. Things go on much as usual. By day I am fully en- 
 gaged ; but in the evenings, and by night, I feel my situation 
 in all its force. My health is still good, but my sleep is fre- 
 quently broken and disturbed. Mary has generally the daugh- 
 ter of a friend with her, both by day and by night, which 
 breaks the gloom of her solitude. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " We have many kind friends, at whose houses we might 
 go every night, were we so disposed. I find, however, that, 
 with all its solitude, home is tlie best place, although I feel a 
 degree of restlessness, of which I can scarcely perceive the 
 cause. — I sometimes walk the room for hours in tlie evening, 
 with thoughts wandering up and down, immerged in mental 
 dreams. * * * * 
 
 " Your affectionate brother, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Mrs. Kingdon, Tyivardreath," 
 
 " 15 Owen's-row [Islington], Nov. 17, 1828. j| 
 " Although I have long omitted to ansvver your kind note, I j 
 can assure you, my dear friend, that it has not been either neg- 
 lected or forgotten. From my recent bereavement, as you 
 may naturally suppose, my spirits have been much depressed, 
 
RESIDENCE IN LONDON. 
 
 207 
 
 so that exertion of every kind has become a burden. In addi- 
 tion to this, I have for some weeks been afflicted with a se- 
 vere cold, accompanied with a troublesome cough, disturbed 
 repose, and a loss of appetite. For some time past I have 
 carefully avoided the night air, and, through a kind Prov- 
 idence, am now better. I walked to Hoxton, and preached 
 yesterday in the morning, but found the task rather too much. 
 I intend, in future, to preach only once a day ; and, unless my 
 health get restored, to quit the plan altogether. 
 
 " For your kind invitation, be pleased, my dear friend, to 
 accept mysincerest thanks; but, under existing circumstances, 
 I cannot leave my home by night, and, until I can brave the 
 evening air, I must enjoy your company by anticipation. I 
 hope, however, between this and Christmas, to pay you a visit, 
 but cannot, at present, appoint either day or time. The weather 
 and my state of health must arbitrate. 
 
 " You also, my dear friend, have been called to taste the 
 afflictions of life, in the death of your friends, and to suffer 
 from several quarters. I am glad, however, to find' that your 
 health is somewhat restored, though not to that state of viva- 
 city and exuberance which marked other years. 
 
 " We have only to look back on a few departed months to 
 be convinced that nothing is stable beneath the sun. My 
 warning has been imperious, to be always ready ; death hav- 
 ing visited my abode in a most unexpected moment. I trust 
 that I feel resigned to this gloomy dispensation of Providence ; 
 and I cannot but be thankful that my dear wife was permitted 
 to see her children reared to maturity, and finally, after paying 
 each a visit, to breathe her last in their arms. 
 
 " That God may give you every blessing, for time and eter- 
 nity, and extend the same to every member of your family, 
 is the sincere desire of my heart. To my dear friend Mr. 
 Smith I desire to be particularly remembered. I hope to see 
 him ere long. In the mean while, believe me to be 
 
 " Yours, most sincerely and affectionately, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Mrs. Richard Smith, Stoke-Newington.'" 
 
 i Mr. Drew's letters in 1829, and the two following years, 
 indicate a partial restoration of strength and spirits, while ihey 
 fexpress an unabated desire for a return to his native county. 
 
 In July, 1829, he writes to his sister, " I still look forward 
 to a residence in Cornwall ; but such is the uncertainty of life, 
 and of all our calculations, that we know not what a day 
 
208 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 may bring forth. I find my sight failing ; but not more so than 
 from my age I might naturally expect. I can neither read nor 
 write without spectacles ; ancl by night, unless the light is good, 
 these are barely sufficient. My chief complaint is broken and 
 disturbed sleep. You also have been unwell, and even now 
 feel its effects. You must not forget that the same Power and 
 Goodness that have hitherto supported, are still the same, in 
 all their energy and kindness ; and, relying on these, you can 
 have nothing to fear. Since my indisposition last winter, I 
 have preached only once on Sundays, and I think I shall not 
 undertake an increase of appointments." 
 
 In writing to Iter on the following March, he observes, 
 "Though the past winter has been peculiarly severe, yet, 
 thanks be to God, I have suflered less than I did during the pre- 
 ceding winter. I had a slight cold, but carefully avoided going 
 out at night, except when it was indispensable. I am visited 
 with the infirmities of sixty-jive, but they are not severe. They 
 only operate as friendly monitor*, that others more decisive in 
 their character, and more momentous in their consequences, 
 are not distant. May I be prepared to meet them ! Thus far 
 I have visited Cornwall once in three years. I was there in 
 the never-to-be-forgotten year 1828, and hope, should Provi- 
 dence spare my life, to revisit it in the summer of 1831, when 
 we shall once more have an opportunity of meeting. Indeed, 
 if I find my health decline, so that I cannot attend to the duties 
 of my office, I may see you before ; for I never intend tarry- 
 ing here longer than I am able to transact my business : — 
 while I have health and strength, I would as soon be employed 
 as do nothing. Should I live to see you in 1831, I shall 
 have tlien come to some decision respecting my future move- 
 ments. In the mean time, let me hear from you whenever you 
 can find time to write. I am always pleased to see your hand- 
 writing, as it recalls departed days which can return no more." 
 
 During the same month, March, 1830, he writes to his eldest 
 daughter, — " On the 3(1 of this month I entered on my 66th 
 year, but have fewer of the infirmities of that age than most of 
 my contemporaries. I trust, however, I shall not forget that 
 my threescore years and ten are at no great distance. My only 
 ground of hope for final salvation is on the merits of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ." A few months afterward he observes to her,! 
 " I could wish that I was not bound to labour daily with 
 scarcely any intermission ; but such is the nature of my em- 
 ployment that I must be constantly at my post. Sleeping 
 badly by night, I could frequently sleep in the morning ; but, 
 
RESIDENCJi IN LONDON. 
 
 209 
 
 when the hour arrives, I must start from my bed, and attend to 
 duty. My daily roinine i.><, to ri^e at half-past seven ; get 
 breakfast, and go to the office, by nine ; dine at one, return to 
 the office at two, and finally leave at six or half-jiast." 
 
 In the summer of this year he writes thus cheerfully and 
 feelingly to one of his old associates : — 
 
 " 38 Newgate-street, London, July 30, 1830. 
 " My old and kind Friend, 
 
 "About a month has elapsed since the arrival of the fish; 
 and from tiieir appearance, until the present, we have been 
 occasionally feeding on your bounty. For these fish, be pleased 
 to receive the thanks, both jointly and severally, of Samuel 
 Drew and Mary Drew. Thus far we can testify our gratitude ia 
 writing ; but, if we live to see the ensuing summer, we hope to 
 have an opportunity of cominunicating it in person. 
 
 " Two years have almost gone by since my late eventful 
 journey into Cornwall : what another year may revolve, who 
 can say ? We have, my friend, travelled along the stream of 
 life together for many years, and have seen new generations 
 rise, and old ones pass away. We, who were the young, are 
 now the aged, and already become the chroniclers of departed 
 times. The period cannot be remote when we also shall be 
 buried amid the wrecks of things which were. 
 
 " During the last eleven years we have been separated, and 
 God only knows if we may ever live together again in the same 
 town. I always calculate on coming to Cornwall, in the 
 evening of my days, to sit down in quietness, and 'keep life's 
 flame from wasting by repose ;' but unforeseen events demand 
 procrrastination, and the tide may overtake me before I can retire. 
 
 "On the whole, my health is good. My chief complaint is, 
 that I sleep badly. I am not yet grown corpulent, but my 
 appetite is tolerably good. I sometimes sigh for relaxation, 
 which the duties of my station will not allow ; but 
 
 ' Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.' 
 
 "You can hardly have any conception what sensations the 
 announcement of deaths in the papers excites. My old friends 
 seem falling on every side. I fancy I shall be almost a stranger 
 [to my native town. Our departure, my friend, cannot be remote : 
 U have already been visited with the infirmities of sixty-five, 
 and those of sixty-six are coming on me, through my specta- 
 cles. May we be prepared for the solemn moment when 
 death shall come. 
 
 S2 
 
210 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 "Give my love to Mrs. Wheeler and every branch of the 
 family, and believe me to be, with the utmost sincerity, yours, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 •« Mr. John Wheeler, St. Ausiell." 
 
 About the commencement of 1830, a request was made to 
 Mr. Drew, by some members of the council of the London 
 University, that he would allow himself to be put in nomination 
 for the vacant chair of Moral Philosophy. Though the emol- 
 uments of the professorship would have doubled his income, 
 so great was his reluctance to prolong iiis stay in the metro- 
 polis, that he declined the flattering pro[)osal. 
 
 Speaking of the proposition afterward to one of his children, 
 he observes, " When it was made to me, the time of my intended 
 stay in London was drawing near its close ; and, for a year 
 or two only, I did not think it proper, or worth my while, to 
 engage." 
 
 SECTION XXIV. 
 
 Mr. Drew's prolonged residence in London — Effect of Dr. Clarke's death 
 on him — His health visibly declines — His reluctance to yield to the de- 
 mands of an enfeebled constitution — Rapid diminution of strength — He 
 leeolves to quit London. 
 
 In the summer of 1831 Mr. Drew again visited Cornwall. 
 The " blossoms of the grave" were now plentifully sprinkled 
 over his venerable head ; while the marks of care and shadows 
 of age were seen in the deepeniiig lines of his countenance. 
 Still he retained much of his former vivacity, and, in his fami- 
 liar and playful sallies, showed that his elasticity of spirits was 
 not subdued. But in the faces of the remaining companions of 
 his youth he saw the tokens of advancing age ; and so power- 
 fully was he affected by these indications of the ravages of 
 time, that when, on this occasion, he stood to address his 
 townsmen from the pulpit, he was unable to proceed, till his 
 emotion had found vent in tears. > 
 
 This year, according to his former calculations, was to re- ( 
 lease him from his literary engagements. Had he yielded to 
 the reiterated and pressing solicitations of iiis children and 
 friends, his life would probably have been prolonged. Unforeseen 
 
RESIDENCE IN LONDON. 
 
 211 
 
 occurrences had, however, deranged his pecuniary calcuhitions, 
 and left him. with respect to liis domestic arrangements, as 
 much afloat as he was several years before. Preferring the 
 welfare of his children to his personal ease, he resolved, for 
 their sakes, to devote two years more to labour; and to his 
 strong parental attachment became a martyr. Nor was it 
 without a foreboding of this result that he adopted the resolu- 
 tion ; for to one of his children he writes, about this period, "I 
 sometimes fear I shall be chained to the oar for life, though at 
 others I indulge a hope that I shall leave work before death 
 compels me. ' 
 
 To his sister he remarks in November, " My time is, as 
 usual, much occupied. I have few vacant hours or idle days, 
 yet I still look forward to the time of my leaving the turmoil of 
 application, and of coming to my native county. I have long 
 had the port in view ; but alas ! contrary wind or adverse 
 current has again driven me from the much-wished-for harbour. 
 I am still at sea ; and wait, with earnest solicitude, an oppor- 
 tunity to cast anchor and furl my sails." And, several months 
 afterward, he observes, to the same much-loved relative,"! 
 am something like a school-boy waiting the arrival of the ap- 
 proaching holydays; and as a month goes by, I estimate the 
 probable remainder. But all is in the hand of the Almighty, 
 in whom we daily live and move and have our being." 
 
 There was no further indication of debility or declining 
 health until the summer of 1832, when he took cold, which 
 was followed by a troublesome cough. Upon a constitution 
 thus beginning to give way, the almost sudden death of his long- 
 tried friend and spiritual father Dr. Adam Clarke, in August, 
 produced a powerful effect. From the coincidence between 
 many of the circumstances of his wife's death and that of his 
 friend, he felt it with double force. To a near relative of 
 Dr. Clarke, whom he afterward visited, he said that it was a 
 death-blow to him — a stroke from which he seemed unable to 
 recover. 
 
 At this period, the possibility of being himself suddenly re- 
 moved by death appears to have been forcibly impressed upon 
 his mind. His will, and important papers, hitherto kept in his 
 office, he brought one day to his house, saying to his daughter, 
 " I have been thinking, Mary, that if I should be taken ill, or 
 die suddenly, you would be at a great loss how to act about 
 my papers. I now intend to keep them in a certain place" 
 (which he named), "that they may be always at hand when 
 required." 
 
212 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 His literary occupation, in which he had usually taken 
 a pleasure, he now began to feel a burthen It rtquired an 
 effort to rouse himself, and pursue it with his usual diligence. 
 On Saturday evenings, when he returned home, he generally 
 threw himself on a sofa, saying, "'I'hank God, there's another 
 week's work over," and (when he liad not to preach on the Sun- 
 day) would add, "and a day of rest to-morrow." 
 
 In September, 1832, his youngest daughter was married, 
 and Mr. Drew became her inmate. At the close of that 
 month, he remarks to another member of his family, " Early 
 this week I shut up housekeeping. I have divided my furni- 
 ture among my children, and am now residing with Mary, at 
 King's Cross. You will perceive, from these preliminary move- 
 ments, that I am preparing to weigh anchor; but my lime is 
 not yet come. At present my health is much as usual ; and 
 upon its continuance will depend my remaining in London." 
 
 The gradual failure of his health will be perceived in his 
 epistolary statements. Had these been made to the same in- 
 dividual, so as to admit of comparison, they would have 
 earlier awakened the apprehensions of his family. 
 
 October 29th, 1832, he thus writes: — "During the last three 
 weeks, I have not been altogether so well as formerly, having 
 a cough, and occasional pain in my shattered teeth. My ap- 
 petite is, however, much as usual, and I attend to my avoca- 
 tions without interruption. Tlius far I have walked from King's 
 Cross to my office every day, and back ; and I believe the 
 getting my feet wet one day in coming to the office, and hav- 
 ing no shoes there to change, produced the cough of which I 
 complain." 
 
 To another of his children he observes shortly afterward, 
 "I daily lake medicine, which has proved beneficial; but I 
 have much strength and spirits to recover before I shall be 
 equal to what you saw me in 1831." Yet so fully was he per- 
 suaded of his debility being temporary, that within a month, he 
 writes to his sister, " 1 hope in my next to say that my health 
 has been perfectly restored. My period of probation is get- 
 ting short. I trust, for several reasons, that I shall live to see 
 its completion. Cheer up, and think the day is not very distant 
 when we shall meet again to our mutual joy." . 
 
 The renewal of a request, early in December, that he would j 
 furnish the members of Dr. Clarke's family with his recollec- I 
 tions of his deceased friend, elicited from Mr. Drew the 
 following reply, significant of extreme bodily weakness. 
 
DECLINING HEALTH. 
 
 213 
 
 " 15 Owen's-row, Dec. I2th, 1832. 
 
 "Yes, my dear friend, conscience, judgment, friendship, and 
 the repeated importunities of my daughter have long dictated 
 what your letter urges. And what apology shall I make ? 
 Day succeeded to day, and saw my resolution to write unaccom- 
 plished, and, even now, my writing must consist rather of 
 promise than of performance. 
 
 "During the last two months I have been afflicted with a 
 violent cough, which, disturbing my repose by night, has 
 brought on such a lassitude and depression of spirits, accom- 
 panied with pliysical weakness, that every exertion beyond 
 the mere rouiine of duty has presented a mountain that I could 
 not scale. I am glad, however, to slate, that my cough has, 
 during the last few days, in a great measure subsided ; but I 
 gather strength only by slow degrees. 
 
 " On the 23d instant I am appointed to Stoke-Newington, 
 and hope to be there, if my strength will allow. About a fort- 
 night since, Mr. Chaille called on me, and insisted on my 
 dining with him. I told him I was your properly, and your 
 consent was the only condition on which I could engage. This, 
 therefore, you must settle between yourselves. 
 
 " A long letter respecting your late dear and honoured father 
 I always intended to write. I have never forgotten it ; but as 
 the first volume of his biography will soon appear, 1 am 
 anxious to postpone it till that time; as the names, persons, 
 places, times, and circumstances will suggest many ideas 
 which I cannot now command. Many little occurrences, 
 illustrative of facts he may have mentioned, will then recur to 
 the memory, and perhaps tend to elucidate the exertions and 
 activity of his early life. In this opinion, and the propriety of 
 temporary postponement, I think you will concur, especially 
 when I assure you that nothing but inability shall prevent me 
 from fuUiliing my promise. 
 
 " To Mrs. Rowley I am indebted a letter ; and this obliga- 
 tion I hope soon to discharge. I am, at times, overwhelmed 
 with the business of the office, and almost ready to sink under 
 the weight; but if blessed with healih and spirits I care not. 
 I find the shadows of evening gathering round me, and I trust 
 I shall he found prepared for my approaching summons. 
 [ " That God may favour you, Mr. Smith, Mrs. Clarke, and 
 all the family, with every blessing, for time and eternity, is the 
 earnest desire of " Yours, most sincerely, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Mrs. Richard Smith, 
 "Palatine Houses, Stoke-Newington.'" 
 
214 
 
 IIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 Writing to his eldest daughter, December 29th, Mr. D. re- 
 marks, "You mention my being with you next Christmas eve. 
 Nearly the same thought has passed through my mind, and on 
 Christmas eve we were talking about it. But alas ! when I 
 reflect on the precarious state of my health, and notice the 
 evidences of mortality with which I am surrounded,* I dare no 
 make such distant calculations. Still, however, I entertain a 
 hope and even a persuasion that we shall meet again, as 1833 
 is near at hand, and its months will glide rapidly away." 
 
 About New-year's-day, 1833, an intimate London friend of 
 Mr. Drew, then on a journey through Cornwall, received, while 
 at Helston, a letter from his lady, stating, among other proofs 
 of Mr Drew's excessive debility, that, calling at their house as 
 he iiad been in the habit of doing, he sank down in syncope 
 through the exertion of walking, and scarcely recovered during 
 the day. His children, being apprized of tliis, besought him 
 instantly to leave London, and two of them proposed proceeding 
 thither to accompany him to Cornwall. Their anxieties were 
 for a time suspended, but not removed, by his reply. It was 
 addressed to one branch of his family, but designed for all. 
 
 "38 Newgate-street, London, 
 " Jan. 15, 1838. 
 
 " My dkar Anna and John, 
 
 " On my return to King's Cross, last evening, I received your 
 very kind letter, the contents of which at once gratified, amused, 
 and vexed me. I was gratified with your kind solicitude for 
 my health, and anxiety to have me among you, — amused at the 
 strange exaggeration which has been given of my indisposition, 
 — and vexed to think you should have been made the subjects 
 of such needless alarm. 
 
 " You seem, my dear Anna, to write as though I was become 
 an infirm, debilitated old man, scarcely able to do any thing 
 without assistance. In this 1 can assure you that you have 
 been greatly deceived. I have never yet, through indisposition, 
 been absent one day from my office, where i stand to my desk 
 just as I did seven years ago. I only sometimes sit down when 
 I am reading. Both Mary and myself smiled last evening at 
 the idea of my coming to Cornwall by easy stages, and sleep- 
 ing by night at inns, and of either you or .Tohn coming to, 
 assist me on my arduous journey. Believe me, my dear chil-| 
 dren, were I disposed to undertake the journey, that from Lon- 
 
 * Alluding especially to the illness of Mrs. Drew's mother, who died 
 shortly after, at the advanced age of 85. 
 
DECLINING HEALTH. 
 
 215 
 
 don to Falmouth, inside a coach, Avould leave but little neces- 
 sity for relaxation or assistance on the way. I could step in 
 and skip out with but little diminution of my former agility. 
 With your kind request, ' that 1 prepare to leave London imme- 
 diately,' it is scarcely possible for me to comply. While able 
 as I am to attend to the duties of my s-taiion, I cannot leave so 
 abruptly. In addition to this, the winter is creeping away. I 
 ride both home and out, and in my office have a nice lire to keep 
 me warm. My health is much better than it was during the 
 month of November and early part of December. My appe- 
 tite is good, and my strength is increasing. My cough also is 
 less frequent and troublesome than it was about two months 
 since. Sometimes I have no cough whatever for several 
 hours, until the collection of mucus in the lungs requires an 
 effort of nature to effect its disciiarge. 
 
 " My mode of living is as follows : — I generally rise at eight, 
 get my breakfast and reach the office at half-past nine ; carry 
 something with me for lunch ; and, without going home to din- 
 ner, remain until four in the afternoon, when 1 return home, 
 and come no more for that day. With my lunch I take a glass 
 or two of port wine, a bottle of which I keep in my desk. On 
 returning home at four, I have either dinner or tea, as may be 
 most inviting. My greatest source of complaint is, that I sleep 
 badly. This has been my portion ever since 1828, and will 
 most probably be my companion to the grave. 
 
 " You ask, ' Have you -ipplied to a physician ?' I answer. No : 
 and, unless I suffer a relapse, I do not intend it : I am not will- 
 ing to ascribe that to a pliysician which, under a kind Provi- 
 dence, nature is doing for me. If, as the spring comes on, I 
 find that my cough does not wholly subside, and leave me in 
 restored health, 1 shall about July adopt the measures you 
 now recommend. With debilitated health 1 shall never en- 
 counter another late autumn in London. I therefore most sol- 
 emnly pledge myself, unless I find my health established in 
 the spring, to leave London about July or August ; and in that 
 case shall be glad for Anna, more particiilai ly, to come up and 
 see her sister, and then we can return together. I hope I shall 
 not require any assistance beyond what she can render. 
 
 "I do now, my dear Anna, most sincerely assure you, that, 
 ;to the best of my knowledge, I have given an impartial account 
 of my heahh; and no consideration shall induce me to tarry 
 here to endanger life ; but as I am better than I was, and spring 
 is advancing, I am willing to try a few months longer, and in the 
 result shall be guided hy circumstances. I hope this long 
 
216 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 letter will gain some credit, to put your apprehensions to rest. 
 With love to all friends, 
 
 " I remain, dear Anna and John, 
 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 " Samukl Drew. 
 
 " Mrs. John Read, Helston." 
 
 Thus assured, his children endeavoured to dismiss their fears, 
 and, having exacted from their father a promise to consult a 
 physician, fondly hoped that tiiey should receive further con- 
 firmation of his returning health and strength. 
 
 On Sunday morning, January 20, 1833, Mr. Drew preached 
 at Middlesex chapel, in the first London circuit, from Isaiah 
 Iv. 6, 7, — " Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye 
 upon him while he is near. Lei the wicited forsake his way, 
 and the unrigiileous man his thoughts ; and let him return unto 
 the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him, and to our God, 
 for he will abundantly pardon." He rode from his daughter's 
 house to Old-street, and walked thence to the chapel : from 
 the chapel he walked to a friend's at Hackney, where he dined: 
 from Hackney he walked to City-road, and thence rode 
 home. This was his last sermon. 
 
 In the letters which follow, the reader will perceive those 
 continued indiciations of decay which, from tenderness to his 
 children, he was scarcely willing to admit, lest they should be 
 needlessly alarmed. 
 
 " 15 Owen's-row, Feb. 4, 1833. 
 
 "Your kind inquiries and solicitude for my health lay me, 
 my dear friend, under renewed and lasting obligations. I am 
 by no means well ; but am not sufficiently indisposed to neglect 
 the duties of my office. The violence of my cough has most 
 decidedly subsided ; and I am looking for milder days, and ap 
 preaching spring, to confirm my health. In the mean while 1 
 feel much weakness, languor, and lassitude, which render al 
 most every exertion burdensome. A small portion of effort 
 creates a shortness of breath ; and I generally feel disposed 
 sit down and doze in silence. At the same time my appetite 
 good, but my sleep broken and disturbed. 
 
 " For your kind invitation, to come on any Sunday to dinner,' 
 I feel obliged, and will avail myself of the first opportunity 
 prove that I am sincere. I cannot, however, fix any day at 
 
 P- 
 
 i 
 
 at 1 
 
DECLINING HEALTH. 
 
 217 
 
 present ; but, come when I will, I hope to be with you soon 
 after one. 
 
 " Why my name has been entirely omitted on the City-road 
 plan, I am at a loss to conjecture. I requested Mr. L. to give 
 me no appointment durine the quarter, but, at all events, to re- 
 tain my name, as it would jjive me eligibility to resume my la- 
 bours, in case my health would allow. My residence at pres- 
 ent is 49 King's Cross, in the Queen-street circuit; and on 
 this plan Mr. Marsden has inserted my name. 
 
 "Of me and my metaphysical talents your late honoured 
 father has spoken in terms which I cannot divest of hyperbole. 
 Alas ! I shall never deserve the character. 
 
 "The letter to which I alluded I have not yet begun. You 
 know, with me the latter part of every month is a busy time ; 
 and the volume, having been in Mr. Fisher's hands to read, has 
 only been returned to me about three days. As soon as the 
 letter is finished, it shall be consigned to your care. 
 
 " You ask if I have begun my own memoir? I reply, No ; 
 and must wait a little, until the grasshopper ceases to be a bur- 
 den. My son-in-law has, however, kindly offered to write for 
 me in the evenings, if I will dictate and furnish materials. 
 
 " At your kindness in offering me a pipe I cannot but smile : 
 — smoking has of late lost nearly all its charms. This im- 
 portant affair we can discuss and settle when we meet. Within 
 two or three Sundays 1 hope to see you, though the modes of 
 conveyance from hence to Stoke-Newington are, I believe, nei- 
 ther numerous nor regular. 
 
 "That God may favour you and yours with every blessing 
 for time and eternity, is the earnest desire of 
 
 " Yours most sincerely, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Mrs. Richard Smith, Stoke-Newington." 
 
 " 15 Owen's-row, Goswell-street, 
 "Feb. 12, 1833. 
 
 "My dear Friend, 
 " The long letter, that had long been promised, is sent at 
 last. You will perceive that I have availed myself of my 
 daughter's handwriting : for which she has sent many apologies. 
 My weakness would not permit me to bear the pen so long : 
 I therefore dictated to her, and you have the result. In what 
 is sent, you are at perfect liberty to adopt or reject what parts 
 you may think proper. You may mutilate, if convenient, ot 
 omit the account altogether. 
 
218 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 " I hope, as soon as I recruit a little strength, to pay you a 
 visit ; but at present I can only add, that I must sit down and 
 rest, after thus abruptly bidding you farewell. 
 
 " Yours most sincerely, 
 
 " Samuel Drew, 
 
 " Mrs. Richard Smith, 
 " Palatine Houses, Stolce-Newington.^' 
 
 A letter from Mr. Drew's youngest daughter to her sister, 
 at Helston, on the 22d of February, again awakened the fam- 
 ily's solicitude. It spoke of her father's increasing debility 
 and decreasing appetite, notwithstanding the medicine pre- 
 scribed by the physician. But to this was added, " Dr. C , 
 
 the gentleman whom he consults, says, he ought not at present 
 to leave London, because he requires the best advice London 
 can furnish ; and this opinion must be disinterested, since he 
 very generously declines taking any fee." His immediate 
 removal was therefore not urged, however greatly it was 
 desired. 
 
 The question will probably be suggested, why did Mr. 
 Drew continue thus to struggle against wind and tide ? Why 
 did he not relinquish his occupation, and seek repose for his 
 over-wrought frame ? One reason has been already assigned, 
 — his attachment to his children ; another is his stability of pur- 
 pose. He had assigned himself the task of labouring till the 
 approaching summer, and was not disposed to shun it but from 
 extreme necessiiy. To others this necessity was now obvious ; 
 but, feeling no acute disease, he was more disposed to charge 
 himself with Indolence than to impute his aversion from labour 
 to physical disability. He also knew that the Caxton estab- 
 lishment was not provided with a successor; and he believed 
 it his duty, at whatever personal inconvenience or suffering, to 
 fulfil his obligations. 
 
 His last note to Cornwall, written upon a scrap of paper, 
 with a trembling hand, proved that his powers were nearly 
 exhausted. 
 
 " 38 Newgate-street, London, Feb. 26, 1833. 
 " Mv DEAR Anna, 
 " I have neither time nor strength to write you a long letter 1 
 by this conveyance. I hope in a few days to send you a long! 
 one by post, giving you an account of my visit to the physi- 
 cian, and his opinion on the interview. I am weak and feeble. 
 My appetite is but indifferent ; but 1 sleep well. 
 
DECLINING H£ALTU. 
 
 219 
 
 I hope in July my final probation ends. 
 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Mrs. John Read, Helston." 
 
 Alas ! before July his mortal probation terminated ! — the 
 thread of life was nearly spun I The day after the receipt of 
 the above, which came by a private hand, Mrs. Read received 
 from her sister the result of their father's visit to the physician, 
 dated March 1st. This was, that medicine could avail no- 
 thing ; tliat, as his last remedy, he ought to go without delay 
 to his native air, and free himself from all exertion of body 
 and mind ; and that unless he went soon, he would be unable 
 to go at all. 
 
 Decisive steps were now imperative. Mr. Drew felt them 
 to be so ; and decided upon instantly relinquishing the occupa- 
 tion to which he had been for a considerable time constraining 
 himself. To his eldest son and daughter, who immediately 
 upon the receipt of their sister's letter had left Cornwall to 
 accompany tlieir father thither, his debility appeared so great 
 as to render it a matter of surprise how he could have con- 
 tinued at his labour so long. His appetite was gone — his 
 whole frame emaciated ; and he was not only willing but 
 anxious to wind up his concerns in London, and bid it a final 
 adieu. 
 
 SECTION XXV. 
 
 Effect of bodily debility on Mr. Drew's mind — He leaves London — Hii 
 journey to Cornwall — His last days and death — His epitaph — Further 
 particulars of his decline — Tribute of his townsmen to his memory. 
 
 To his editorial duties Mr. Drew attended until Saturday, 
 March 2d, the last day of his 68th year. On Monday, the 
 4th, at the request of his family, he retnained at home. On 
 Tuesday he went to his office to consult with Mr. Fisher on 
 [the propriety of immediately relinquishing his engagements; 
 but, after having been there a little more than an hour, a sud- 
 den prostration of strength occasioned faintness. He was then 
 taken home by a kind person employed on the premises, and 
 appeared much better on that and the following day. On 
 
220 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEI, DREW. 
 
 Thursday he went in a carriage to the office, accompanied by 
 his daughter, to make his final arrangements. 'I he exertion 
 and excitement were too much for him. He sank on a chair 
 in a si-rite of great exhaustion, and was brought to his daugh- 
 ter's house unable to walk without assistance. 
 
 From this time it became apparent that his bodily debility 
 had afl'ected his mind. Indeed, for several days previously, 
 frequent instances of nervous irritability, remarkably contrast- 
 ing witii his philosophical firmness, showed that his lofty 
 powers M'ere yielding with his sinking frame. Of this he was 
 conscious. When relating to his son his last interview wiih 
 the physician, among other particulars he observed, " Dr. C. 
 eaid to me, ' It has been your misfortune, Mr. Drew, to enjoy 
 almost uninterrupted health. You thought your constitution 
 would submit to any thing ; and you have tasked it beyond 
 endurance. Your soul, sir, has been too great for your body. 
 This is breaking down, and is bearing that with it ; and no- 
 thing can restore your energies but complete freedom from 
 labour and excitement.'" Feeling the truth of these observa- 
 tions, at the hazard of being thought unkind, he shunned as 
 much as possible the conversation of those friends whose soli- 
 citude for his health led them to make frequent personal inqui- 
 ries. For the same reason he chose to be under the care of 
 his daughter at Helston, and to avoid even passing through his 
 native town, where the sight of so many well-known faces 
 would overpower him. 
 
 As his weakness would not permit him to sit up, or bear 
 any irregular motion, it was suggested by his medical adviser 
 tliat his removal to Cornwall should be by water. This, it 
 was found, would occasion much delay ; and preparations were 
 made for travelling by land. The inside of one of the Exeter 
 stage-coaches having been engaged, a plank was laid from 
 seat to seat, supporting a soft mattress, purposely prepared, 
 with a covering of blankets to ensure the requisite degree of 
 warmth. In this recumbent posture he travelled, attended by 
 his two children. Sago and soup were the only articles of 
 nutriment he could lake. These, as they could not be pro- 
 cured instantly on the journey, were previously provided, and 
 warmed in the coach by a spirit-lamp. Cheered at the pros- 
 pect of soon breathing Cornish air, and pleased with the prep- 
 arations made to ensure his comfort while travelling, he 
 expressed his confidence that he should perform the journey 
 with little inconvenience. 
 
 On Monday afternoon, March 11th, Mr. Drew left London, 
 
REMOVAL FBOai LONDON. 
 
 221 
 
 reaching Exeter with less fatigue than his attendants expected 
 about Tuesday noon. Here he rested that night. The fol- 
 lowing night, by a carriage suited to his manner of travelling, 
 he reached Bodmin. It was a beautiful morning of early 
 spring when he left Exeter ; and the sight of primroses and 
 furze blossoms on the hedges, and lambs in the fields, de- 
 lighted and exhilarated him. Frequently during the day he 
 entered into conversation, and showed all his former self, — 
 sometimes displaying his natural turn for raillery, at the ex- 
 pense of his companions. At these indications of returning 
 vigour they were overjoyed, unapprehensive of their short 
 duration. Long before his arrival at Bodmin he became ex- 
 hausted, and his late distressing symptoms of mental aberration 
 returned ; but after leaving Launceston there was no other 
 resting-place. Two days were occupied with the remaining 
 journey of forty miles. On the Thursday night he slept at 
 Truro, where every kindness that sympathy could dictate was 
 shown by the proprietors of the hotel, to whom he was known. 
 On Friday afternoon, the 15th, he reached Helston, with 
 apparently recruited strength and spirits — so much so, that he 
 imagined himself capable of walking from the carriage to the 
 sitting-room on the first floor of his daughter's house without 
 help, though it was not thought prudent for him to make the 
 eflbrt. 
 
 During several days his children fondly cherished the hope 
 of his recovery ; and in this hope believing that tranquillity 
 would be his chief restorative, they forbore proposing questions 
 which might rouse him to mental exertion, and even sought to 
 divert his attention from such topics as they apprehended would 
 excite his feelings. Further indications of amendment, how- 
 ever, there were none. Unfavourable symptoms recurred ; and, 
 at the end of a week from his arrival at Helston, the medical 
 attendant intimated his opinion that it was a case of incurable 
 consumption, which must soon terminate fatally. 
 
 With the exhaustion of physical strength the aberration of 
 his intellect increased ; and during the last week of his life 
 the periods of collected thought were infrequent, and very 
 brief In consequence of this, but few of the observations 
 wiiich might otherwise have been expected from a dying 
 iChristian philosopher could be recorded. Yet, amid the wan- 
 iderings of his mind, the kindness of his disposition frequently 
 discovered itself in his solicitude for others, especially for the 
 comfort of those who were attending him. When he perceived 
 their anxiety on his account, he would make an effort to 
 T2 
 
222 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 cheer them, by alluding to the mercy and goodness of God in 
 surrounding him with so many comlorts and kind friends ; and 
 more than once lie reminded them liiat he always liked to see 
 smiling faces. Throughout his sickness he frequently expressed 
 his gratitude to God in short ejaculations. " Bless the Lord 
 for this" — " Thank God for all his mercies" — " Bless the Lord, 
 O my soul," — were the words often uttered by him; and at 
 other times he was evidently engaged in prayer. 
 
 After the performance of family worship, in which his son 
 had ofliciated, a few mornings before his leaving London, Mr. 
 Drew observed, with much feeling, " This is the second time I 
 have been dismissed from my oflice, and God only knows 
 whether 1 shall ever resume it." On his journey he frequently 
 remarked when taking nourishment, "What a mercy it is my 
 appetite does not go from this food ! If it were to become 
 distasteful, I know of nothing on which 1 could subsist. Thank 
 the Lord for this and every other mercy vouchsafed to a sinner 
 like me." On two or three occasions during his sickness, and 
 once especially, when, on his journey, his head was supported 
 by one of his children, he repeated, with exquisite pathos, the 
 beautiful lines of Gray — 
 
 " On some fond breast the parting soul relies : 
 Some pious drops the closing eje requires." 
 
 When, on his arrival at Helston, he found himself so little 
 affected by travelling, his persuasion was that he should be 
 restored ; but this was soon followed by a conviction that the 
 time of his departure was at hand. In bed he commonly took 
 food or medicine while resting on one elbow. This he called 
 his prop. He said one day to his attendant, when about to lie 
 down, after taking something, " Well, I suppose I must remove 
 the prop. Ah ! very soon all props will be taken away, and I 
 shall drop into the grave." 
 
 Next to seeing his children, he felt anxious for the presence 
 of his sister. " She bore with me," he said, " the burden and 
 heat of the day, and I must not leave her without some token 
 of my gratitude and love. She must know, after he is gone, 
 how much her brother felt for her welfare." She was an in- 
 valid, and had to travel nearly forty miles ; but she suffered no 
 inconvenience from the journey, and had the satisfaction off 
 soothing, by her presence, her brother's dying hours. 
 
 On the Monday preceding his death, he said to his eldest 
 son, who had been unavoidably absent from him a few days, 
 " Do you observe any difference in me now, and when you were 
 
HIS LAST DAYS. 
 
 223 
 
 last with me ?" The reply was, " Yes, dear father, you are 
 certainly weaker ; for several things which you could then do 
 for yourself, you now cannot." — " Ah !" said he, " these are 
 some of the indications that my race is nearly run." — "And 
 you have a good hope, I trust, my dear father, that when your 
 course is finished, you will receive a crown of righteousness." 
 — " Yes," he replied, with great deliberation, and after a long 
 pause; "I have the fullest and ihe most unshaken confidence 
 in the mercy of God, through our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 On the Monday night, awaking from sleep, he exclaimed, 
 " O glorious sunshine ! yes ! blessed be God, I shall enter in." 
 At one time his expressions indicated that a transient cloud had 
 obscured his spiritual vision. His words were, " Will the Lord 
 leave my soul in darkness ? No : he will not. When the door 
 is opened, I shall enter in. Yes, I shall." 
 
 One morning he said to the nurse, a pious woman, " Well, 
 we have had a comfortable night, blest with artificial light, — 
 and with the glorious light of heaven." At another time he 
 said to her, " Wiien I was last in Helston, I could see from the 
 bed-room window of my son's house my dear wife's grave ; and 
 there seemed to be a voice calling to me, ' Come away For 
 the last three months 1 have felt disposed to say, I come — I 
 shall be with you soon."* 
 
 On the Wednesday before his decease, Mr. Read, his son- 
 in-law, going to his bed-side, Mr. Drew said, " Here 1 am still." 
 — " Yes, sir, but a prisoner of hope, I trust." — " Yes," was the 
 reply. 
 
 On Thursday Mrs. Read said to her father, " I am writing 
 to Mary; have you any thing to say to her?" — "Yes; give 
 my best love to her, and tell her I am lying here with a gloomy 
 aspect, but a smiling countenance." — " Looking forward," said 
 Mrs. Read, " to a better country ?" — " Oh, yes," he replied, 
 " you may say that with the greatest confidence." 
 
 On Thursday night he seemed to have a premonition of his 
 approaching death, which led him to say to the nurse, " Thank 
 God, to-morrow I shall join the glorious company above." 
 
 About noon on Friday, March 29tli, Mr. Read, wishing to 
 learn the state of Mr. Drew's mind at that time, waited for a 
 moment of returning consciousness, and then said, " My dear 
 pir, to-day, I trust, you will be with the Lord Jesus." — " Yes, 
 
 His youngest daughter, who was his sole companion after Mrs. Drew's 
 death, says, " My father used daily to unhang my mother's portrait, and 
 kiss it, sometimes saying, ' I come — I shall be with you soon,' but at 
 these seasons I never fully understood his meaning." 
 
224 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 my good sir, I trust I shall," was the reply. These were 
 almost the last coherent words he uttered. 
 
 For some hours before his death he sank into a state of 
 unconsciousness; his breathing became fainter and fainter; 
 until, just at eight o'clock that evening, respiration ceased, and, 
 without pain or struggle, "the spirit returned to God who 
 gave it." 
 
 In the gloomy uncertainty of skepticism, or the chilling an- 
 ticipations of infidelity, what can be found to parallel the hopes 
 and consolations of the dying follower of Christ? Knowing 
 in whom he has believed, he looks beyond the sinkings of 
 nature and the darkness of the tomb ; and, while passing 
 through " the valley of the shadow of death," his path is irra- 
 diated by the distant rays of celestial glory. Even in circum- 
 stances which preclude the " full assurance of faith," comfort is 
 administered, and every fearful apprehension removed. And 
 were it possible, — nay, were it certain, that the Christian's 
 hopes of eternal happiness would prove delusive, with perfect 
 propriety might he propose the interrogation — 
 
 " What truth on earth so precious as the lie 1" 
 
 On the Thursday after Mr. Drew's death, his body was 
 interred, agreeably to his long-expressed wish, beside that of 
 his much-loved wife. Their tomb bears the following inscrip- 
 tion : — 
 
 Beneath this Stone 
 repose 
 the Mortal Remains of 
 
 SAMUEL DREW, A.M., 
 
 of St. Austell 
 (Author of several esteemed Metaphysical Treatises), 
 Who, 
 
 unJaunted by Difficulties, 
 persevered in the pursuit of Knowledge, 
 and raised himself from an humble Station 
 to Literary Eminence. 
 
 Possessing, J 
 
 with lofty Intellect, I 
 
 the feelings of a Philanthropist, ■ 
 
 and the mild graces of a Christian, I 
 
 he lived ' 
 equally beloved and admired ; 
 
INTERESTING COMMUNICATION. 
 
 225 
 
 and, 
 
 in steadfast hope of a blissful Immortality, 
 through the merits of his Saviour, 
 he died in this town, 
 deeply lamented, 
 March 29th, 1833, aged 68 years. 
 
 This Stone also covers 
 the Relics of his beloved wife Honour, 
 who, after a short illness, 
 was removed to a happier world, 
 Aug. 19th, 1828, aged 57. 
 
 " So glides the stream of human life away." 
 
 In the Wesleyan chapel, St. Austell, on Sunday, April 7th, 
 the Rev. George Browne Macdonald, from Bristol, then on a 
 missionary deputation to Cornwall, spoke of Mr. Drew's de- 
 cease to a large and deeply affected congregation, from Psalm 
 Ixxiii. 25 — " Whom have 1 in heaven but Thee ? and there is 
 none upon earth I desire besides Thee. My flesh and my 
 heart faileth ; but God is the strength of my heart and my por- 
 tion for ever." On the following Sunday a funeral discourse 
 was delivered, by the Rev. James Jones, to a crowded audience, 
 in the Wesleyan chapel, Helston, from Rev. xiv. 13 — "And I 
 heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me. Write, Blessed are 
 the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth : Yea, saith 
 the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours ; and their 
 works do follow them." In other chapels in Cornwall, Mr- 
 Drew's death was noticed from the pulpit. 
 
 The following communications, from two of Mr. Drew's inti- 
 mate female friends, who witnessed his rapid decline, and mani- 
 fested an almost filial solicitude for his welfare, will probably 
 be read with much interest. 
 
 One of these ladies, whose kind sympathies and daily atten- 
 tions were deeply felt by him upon whom they were bestowed, 
 writes thus, on receiving the intelligence of his death : — 
 
 ' Another honoured and revered name is added to the list of 
 those for whom we deeply mourn, and whose remembrance we 
 i cherish with the highest veneration: — Adam Clarke! Richard 
 tWatson ! Samuel Drew ! — names at which our hearts have 
 [often beat with exultation and love, now almost suddenly gath- 
 ered from among us, and numbered with the silent dead ! But, 
 blessed be our and their God, we have ' a sure and certain hope 
 of tlieir resurrection to eternal life.' 'These all died in the 
 
226 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DKEW. 
 
 faith, which whosoever hath, though he were dead yet shall he 
 live.' 
 
 " We consider it no common privilege to have known Mr. 
 Drew, and particularly to have had more than usual intercourse 
 with him lately ; though, during that time, we had the pain to 
 witness the almost daily increase of bodily weakness and men- 
 tal decay. How rapidly was the change effected, in bringing 
 his active and vigorous frame into the dust of death! 
 
 " I spent the evening of the 8th of January in his company, 
 when to me he appeared in his usual health, and conversed 
 with all his usual animation ; though I remember lie com- 
 plained of a cough, which deprived him of s-leep occasionally. 
 On the 11th of February I heard he was very unwell, and sent 
 to beg him to dine with us, as being nearerhisofficethan King's 
 Cross — not in the least anticipating the shock 1 received, on his 
 entering the room, at the great and sudden alteration wliich had 
 taken place. I did not, however, remark it to him, and was 
 pleased to see that he ate his dinner with tolerable appetite, 
 and afterward appeared rather better. From this time he dined 
 with us daily for three weeks, varying considerably in his ap- 
 petite, strength, and spirits ; anticipating his stay in liondon till 
 July, August, or September, and never appearing to relinquish 
 this intention, till the last few days of the last week. He then 
 became convinced that his strength was unequal to the continu- 
 ance of his literary labours, and expressed his determination 
 to close his engagements in London, and go to Cornwall in 
 April or May. Alas ! alas ! God granted him the desire of his 
 heart, to breathe once more his native air, and see his children 
 and his children's children ; but, ere April bloomed, surrounded 
 by those he loved, and those that loved and honoured him, he 
 closed his eyes on earth and all its scenes, to become an in- 
 habitant of another world. 
 
 " When Mr. Drew first became a daily visiter to us, he fre- 
 quently spoke of the restless and sleepless nights he passed ; 
 remarking, that when he entered his bedroom, he no longer 
 looked upon his bed with pleasure as the couch of repose, but 
 with a sigh, as a prison for a given number of hours. Shortly 
 after this sleep was mercifully restored to him, for which he 
 expressed much gratitude ; often saying, ' I have brave nights 
 now — yes, indeed I have : I ought to be better, and I think I 
 am — I have certainly more muscular energy, but have an unac- 
 countable indisposition to work : it is quite a burden to me. I 
 cannot rouse myself to it. I must be growing idle.' We of- 
 fered to assist him in copying, &c. He thanked us, saying 
 
ZNTERESTING COMMUNICATION. 
 
 227 
 
 his daughter did a great deal of writing for him. She and her 
 husband helped him very much. Mr. W. Tagg was not only 
 willing but able to help him, and went frequently to the office, 
 and rendered him that assistance no one else could. 
 
 " It was at this time he said to me one day, ' Mrs. Ince, about 
 a fortnight ago, in one of those long, long nights, when I used 
 to count the hours, and hear the clock strike one, two, three, 
 four, five, six, — I began to examine myself, and asked myself, 
 " Weil, now, suppose you should die, what have you in prospect 
 in a future state ? Are you depending upon any thing you have 
 done, or any thing you are, for acceptance with God ? Are you 
 trusting to any thing, or have you any other hope than the infi- 
 nite merit of the sacrifice of Christ?" I looked inward upon 
 myself, — I looked all around, — I saw and felt that I had no 
 other. Then I looked up to God. I cast myself on the Lord 
 Jesus Christ. All was clear — there was no cloud. I felt all 
 was right. It appeared as though heaven were opened, and I 
 had communion with God and with Christ. Then it seemed 
 as if the curtain dropped between ; and so it has been ever since. 
 I have never been able to realize the joy I felt then, in prospect 
 of making my escape from earth, and being with God ; but I 
 felt that I had cast anchor within the vail. And so T have ; I 
 still feel that.' This was the only time in which Mr. Drew 
 spoke of his personal religious experience. 
 
 " In his general conversation with us, he dwelt much on his 
 removal to Cornwall, and the prospect of his recovery there ; 
 while, at the same time, his mind seemed to be impressed with 
 the probability that his death was not far distant. This I judge 
 from the manner in which he used to break forth in sudden 
 ejaculations of prayer, and frequently repeat these verses : — 
 
 ' There is a land of pure delight 
 Where saints immortal reign ; 
 Infinite day excludes the night, 
 And pleasures l)anish pain. 
 
 There I shall see his face, 
 
 And never, never sin ; 
 
 There, from the rivers of his grace, 
 
 Drink endless pleasures in. 
 
 Far from a world of grief and sin, 
 With God eternally shut in !' 
 
 " When Mr. D. gave me an account of Dr. Clarke's death, 
 he closed the relation with these words :— 
 
228 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 ' Nor will I mourn his loss, so soon to follow !' 
 
 " One day in the last week he was with ns, he entered the 
 house repeating these lines in Gray's elegy : — 
 
 ' The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, 
 The swallow twittering from the clay-built shed. 
 The cock's shrill clarion, and the echoing horn, 
 No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.' 
 
 " We were much affected at the time, thinking how soon they 
 might be applicable to himself. At this period, he would often 
 rouse up from dozing in an easy-chair, in which he reclined 
 after ditmer, exclaiming, ' The fountains of the great deep are 
 broken vp.^ They were indeed ! and he has crossed the flood ! 
 His enlarged and redeemed spirit, no longer confined to a house 
 of clay, is now an inhabitant of ' those regions where infirmity 
 cannot enter, and where the sunshine of knowledge suffers 
 neither diminution nor eclipse.' 
 
 "Hannah G. Inge. 
 
 " London, April 2, 1833." 
 
 For the particulars which follow, the reader and the biogra- 
 pher are indebted to a lady whose name has already appeared 
 in these pages. 
 
 " It has often been remarked, that ' when the mind feels the 
 most intensely, it retains the least power to express the depth 
 of its feelings. ' The truth of this observation I feel, in refer- 
 ence to imbodying my recollections of my esteemed friend 
 Mr. Samuel Drew. That for many years I enjoyed his friend- 
 ship and affectionate regard is one of my highest honours, 
 and its influence has been one of my greatest advantnges. 
 From my youth up, I had heard his name mentioned by Dr. 
 Adam Clarke in terms of great regard and respect, and my 
 imagination had figured to itself ' a local habitation' for the 
 'name.' 
 
 "In the year 1815 T saw Mr. Drew for the first time. Some 
 business had called him to London, and he soon found out the 
 residence of his old friend Dr. A. Clarke. On entering theJ 
 room, where I chanced to be silling, learning a lesson I believe,] 
 he spoke to the servant in a tone, and with a manner, so pecu-I 
 liar, ' Tell Dr. Clarke a person desires to see him,' that I could 
 not help Idoking up, and contrasting his manner and tone with 
 the tail thin figure which immediately sat down, covering his 
 
INTERESTING COaLJtUNICATION. 
 
 229 
 
 face with his hand. Till my father entered the room, I rudely 
 continued my task. ; when his exclamation of surprise and de- 
 light at seeing the still nameless person before me cast my mind 
 into great perplexity : nor was it relieved by my father's hur- 
 ried questions of ' How came you to London ? — What has 
 brought you here? — Why, man, this must be the first time in 
 your life that you have ever been out of your own county. — 
 Why did you not send up your name ? — How are the children, 
 and how have you left my good friend Mrs. Drew V The 
 mental perplexity was at this moment relieved, and instinctively 
 I arose from my seat, and stood consciously ashamed before 
 an individual whose talents I revered, and to whom, in igno- 
 rance, I had evinced disrespect. It was a lesson never for- 
 gotten. 
 
 " The death of Dr. Clarke seemed to astound and overpower 
 Mr. Drew ; and it was remarked, as he was pacing backwards 
 and forwards, waiting in the City-road burial-ground for the 
 arrival of the remains of his old friend, that he appeared des- 
 olate with grief, and almost prostrated in bodily strength, as 
 well as in spirit, by the affectionate interest he took in the mel- 
 ancholy event. The first time I saw him after this painful be- 
 reavement, I marked the change, and felt assured that the arrow 
 which had pierced my honoured father's heart had nearly reached 
 his also. He was himself moved to tears at seeing me, and, 
 taking boXh my hands in iiis, and looking most affectionately at 
 me, he said, ' It is God, my dear friend, who has aiHicted, 
 and He will he;il : I can say nothing to comfort you ; but the 
 stroke shall not be heavier than He will enable you to bear : I 
 know your loss can never be supplied ; but trust in the God of 
 your mercies, and through His strength your spirit shall be up- 
 held. I give you my blessing : it is all I have to bestow. 
 May the God of your father be your God and Father, and may 
 He preserve your husband and your children through the jour- 
 ney of tliis lii'e, that we may all meet in heaven at last for 
 Christ's sake.' 
 
 " Upon my revered mother's coming to town, Mr. Drew hav- 
 ing expressed a desire to see her, and my mother being solicit- 
 ous of seeing him, I wrote, entreati'iig him to come and spend 
 the following Sabbath with us, which was his birth-day, March 
 3d, 1833. He took a stage-coach from his own door to ours ; 
 but oh ! what a still greater change had the few last weeks 
 wrougiu ! his head was depressed, his step exceedingly infirm, 
 and he was much exhausted with the fatigue of the ride. When 
 a little recovered he spoke to my beloved mother on the subject 
 U 
 
230 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DEEW. 
 
 of her loss, and the probability that he should not himself long 
 survive his friend Dr. Clarke, on whose character and talents 
 he frequently expatiated in the course of the day, and then 
 would again relapse into silence ; or, at other times, repeat 
 verses of hymns, texts of Scripture, or ejaculatory prayers. 
 On placing my infant in his arms, for his blessing, he said, 
 ' God bless you, little stranger ! You are just come into life, 
 — I am just going out of it. My life's journey has been a long, 
 but, upon the whole, not a hard one: — may yours be a safe 
 one, vvhether it be long or short.' 
 
 " Sometimes the scenes of Mr. Drew's youth would appear 
 to be imaged to his mind ; and he would tell of the achieve- 
 ments of his young life and vigour, and add, how earnestly he 
 longed to breathe his last breath where he had breathed his 
 first, and to lay his bones beside those of his dear wife's ; and 
 then, looking down upon himself, he subjoined, ' And I shall 
 have little but bones to leave, for my flesh is nearly all gone.' 
 
 " On observing me distressed, he said, ' Do not grieve for 
 me, my dear friend : I suffer no pain ; 'tis mere debility. I may 
 rally when I get to my native air ; but God does all things 
 well.' Then, relapsing into thoughtfulness, a mournful smile 
 settled itself upon his lace, as, taking my hand, he said, ' Yes, 
 my friend, thus it is, 
 
 ' Down Marlborough's cheeks the tears of dotage flow.' ' 
 
 In the afternoon he took a little sleep on the sofa, and awoke 
 considerably refreshed, and conversed freely on different sub- 
 jects, when, at seven o'clock, the stage called again and bore 
 him away, and I saw his face no more ! And in him I have lost 
 one of my earliest, one of my best, one of my most esteemed 
 friends ; and more especially after I had lost my own honoured 
 parent, Mr. Drew was one whom I regarded almost as a second 
 father, lie was ever unvarying in iiis friendship, and possessed 
 a benevolence and beneficence of character which but few 
 equal : he was extremely social in his disposition and habits ; 
 always instructive and interesting in his conversation ; and re- 
 markal)le for the amiability and simplicity of his manners. 
 None could know him witiiout esteeming as well as respecting, 
 him, and in every way profiting by his society. He is now! 
 gone where truth exists without shadows, and all is for eve« 
 ' light in His light.' I 
 " Mary Ann Smith. ' 
 
 " Stoke-Newington, May, 1833." 
 
 The period of Mr. Drew's conversion to God, under the 
 
TRIBUTB OF HIS TOWNSMEN. 
 
 231 
 
 ministry of Dr. Adam Clarke, and his connection with tlie Me- 
 thodist society, is recorded on a plain marble, in the Wesleyan 
 chapel at St. Austell. The inhabitants of the town of his 
 nativity have given expression to their feelings of affectionate 
 remembrance, by placing in the parish church a very handsome 
 tablet, bearing this inscription :— 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 SAMUEL DREW, 
 
 A NATIVE OF THIS PAKISH, 
 WHOSE TALENTS AS A METAPHYSICAL WlilTER, 
 UNAIDED BY EDUCATION, 
 RAISED HIM FROM OBSCURITY 
 INTO HONOURABLE NOTICE, 
 AND WHOSE VIRTUES AS A CHRISTIAN 
 WON THE ESTEEM AAD AFFECTION 
 OF jVLL WHO KNEW HIM. 
 
 HE WAS BORN MARCH 3d, 176-5, 
 LIVED IN ST. AUSTELL UNTIL JANUARY, 1819, 
 AND, AFTER AN ABSENCE OF FOURTEEN \EARS, 
 DURING WHICH HE CONDUCTED A LITERARY .JOURNAL, 
 HB RETURNED TO END HIS DAYS IN HIS NATIVE COUNTY, 
 AS HE HAD LO^O DESIRED, 
 AND DIED AT HELSTON, .MARCH 29tH, 1833. 
 
 TO RECORD THEIR SENSE 
 OF HIS LITERARY MERIT AND MORAL VVORTH, 
 HIS FELLOW-TOWNSMEN AND PARISHIONERS 
 HAVE ERECTED THIS TABLET. 
 
 SECTION XXVI, 
 
 Mr. Drew's personal appearance — His domestic habits — Training of his 
 children — His affability and readiness to instruct — Familiarity in cor- 
 respondence — Singular instance of monomania. 
 
 The leading events of Mr. Drew's life have been narrated 
 in nearly chronological order. Other particulars, illustrative of 
 his character and talents, we have yet to notice. To these a 
 
232 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 brief description of his personal appearance may be deemed 
 an appropriate introduction. 
 
 Slender in form, with a head remarkably small, his stature 
 exceeded the common height. In its repose, his dark, expres- 
 sive eye indicated a placid disposition, and a mind at ease ; but 
 frequently might it be seen eillier beaming with gratitude to 
 God and benevolence to man, or lit up with the brilliancy of 
 mental conception. A playful or an arch smile often stole 
 over those features on which the lines of thought were deeply 
 indented. His voice, neither harsh nor melodious, wa& clear 
 and powerful ; producing, by the firmness of its intonations, a 
 conviction that the speaker was no ordinary man. Without ex- 
 hibiting the polish of gentility, his gait and gesture were not 
 tmgraceful ; while a general rapidity of motion indicated great 
 physical activity, and decision of purpose. 
 
 " The fixed glance of his eye," a gentleman intimately ac- 
 quainted with Mr. D. in the latter years of his life remarks, 
 " was particularly searching. When 1 first became knowm to 
 him, I used involuntarily to shrink from it. He seemed to be 
 searching the secrets of one's soul ; yet it was a glance entirely 
 destitute of fierceness." Another gentleman, to whom he was 
 known about the time of his first becoming an author, observes 
 to him, in a letter dated 1802, " Your restless mind abhors 
 indolence, as men too frequently abhor exertion. From your 
 very make, I am led to calculate upon some future enterprise ; 
 and be that what it may, you will not attempt it but on a con- 
 viction of personal adequacy." 
 
 Whatever change his features may have sustained, through 
 advancing age, a circumstance related by him a few weeks be- 
 fore his decease shows, that, in thcir general expression, they 
 must have continued from his early manhood with little alteration. 
 Riding to his office, as he was latterly accustomed, he was 
 asked by a person who sat opposite to him in the vehicle, if 
 he were not called Drew ; and, on being answered in the 
 affirmative, the gentleman remarked, " You and I, sir, were 
 next-door neighbours at Crafthole." — " How long is h, sir, 
 since you Lived there ?" inquired Mr. D. — " About fifty years." 
 — "And have you not seen me since?" — "Never, sir, till 
 now," was the answer. I 
 
 In describing Mr. Drew's domestic habits, the reader's 1 
 attention is chiefly directed to the period subsequent to 1805 — ] 
 the year in which he relinquished trade for literature, and was 
 enabled to follow a systematic distribution of his time. Previ- 
 ously to this, the frequent and irregular calls of business scarcely 
 
HIS DOMESTIC HABITS. 
 
 233 
 
 permitted the formation, much less the pursuit, of any settled 
 plan. 
 
 That time might be " taken by the forelock," which was one 
 of his favourite phrases and rules of conduct, the family clock 
 was kept a quarter of an hour in advance of the town time. 
 When this clock struck seven, he regularly rose, except in the 
 depth of winter ; and, if the weather permitted, walked till eight, 
 the family breakfast hour. Sometimes this walk would be soli- 
 tary ; but usually he was accompanied by his children, and 
 their young companions. To join his morning walk was es- 
 teemed a privilege. Eve" the little ones were eager to be of 
 the party ; for the child that was too young to keep pace with 
 the others generally rode upon his father's back or shoulder. 
 In this manner Mr. Drew's first morning hour was spent, not 
 idly, but in delivering lectures on some topic which he endeav- 
 oured to render interesting to his young disciples. Grammar 
 was frequently the subject — at other times, geograpliy — at 
 others, natural science, drawn from any object which might 
 happen to strike his or the children's attention — and sometimes, 
 a rehearsal of poetry. In fair weather, as duly as the clock 
 struck eight might he be seen returning, with sometimes half 
 a dozen children or more in company ; and the appearance of 
 the party was often a signal to the neighbours that the hour of 
 eight had arrived. 
 
 From eight to nine was occupied by the morning repast and 
 family devotion. At this, a chapter was read by one of his 
 children ; on each of whom, if capable of reading, the duty de- 
 volTed in succession. Unless the portion of Scripture appeared 
 to require explanation, the reading was followed immediately 
 by an extemporaneous prayer, in which Mr. Drew manifested 
 the liveliest feeling for the best interests of his dependants, and 
 all whose welfare might, at the time, occupy his thoughts. He 
 then entered his study, wliich he never designated by a more 
 classical name than his chamber, and generally continued there, 
 with the interruption only of dinner and tea, until seven o'clock ; 
 nor was tliis room interdicted to his children, while they refrained 
 
 I from noise. On those evenings when he delivered his lectures on 
 grammar, &c., he left his study at an earlier hour — these lec- 
 tures occupying his time from six to eight. 
 I Independently of his engagement with his pupils, he regarded 
 Bcven as his hour for " leaving work." A portion of two or 
 three evenings weekly was devoted to the public duties of reli- 
 gion : — his other vacant hours were either given to the society 
 of his friends — to conversation with his children — to occasional 
 U 2 
 
234 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL HREW. 
 
 correspondence — to visiting the sick — or to the reading of such 
 booiis as did not fall within the course of his ordinary occu- 
 pation. The only time in which he was wholly released from 
 mental exercise was tlie period immediately preceding his re- 
 tiring to rest. After supper the adults of the family were sum- 
 moned together for their evening devotion, which varied from 
 that of the morning in the omission of reading the Scriptures. 
 Mr. Drew then adjourned to the kitchen, to smoke his pipe of 
 tobacco ; and thus terminated the daily routine.* 
 
 Though a smoker, he did not yield himself up to an inordi- 
 nate use of the narcotic leaf. If the cloudy wreath sometimes 
 curled around his brow, it was not with him, as with Dr. Parr, 
 the atmosphere which he hourly breathed. Two pipes a day — 
 one after dinner and one before bed-time — were the usual limits 
 of his self-indulgence, and these he could easily dispense with 
 where he deemed their introduction would be offensive. The 
 determined hostility of his friend Dr. Adam Clarke to the ordi- 
 nary use of tobacco he very well knew, and when at his house 
 he imposed upon himself entire abstinence. On one occasion, 
 the doctor said to him, after dinner, " Well, friend Drew, do 
 you wish for a pipe ?" — " Were I in any other place," replied 
 Mr. Drew, " I should probably answer. Yes.'" — " Oh !" said the 
 doctor, " if you desire it, you shall have a pipe now, on the 
 condition of your going outside the back door to smoke : — 
 within my house no such unseemly practice is allowed." This 
 accommodation was declined. Others who knew Mr. Drew's 
 predilection, whenever he was to be their guest, always made 
 due provision of the pipe and " fragrant weed ;" but lie would 
 never consent to use them, unless permission were given for his 
 retiring to the kitchen or the open air, as the temperature and 
 convenience might determine. 
 
 So fond was he of warmth, that, in the hottest day of sum- 
 
 * A young Indy with wliom Mr. Drew occasionally corresponded writes 
 to him thus, in 1809 : — " I am much pleased, and .sometimes diverted, to 
 hear pe()|)le relate some anecdote of you. How they obtain their intelli 
 gence Heaven knows, — but I believe they sometimes invent it. I really 
 think some imagine that you neither eat, drink, nor sleep as other peopl 
 Assuring some oi' my acquaintances that I saw you at your door as 
 rode through St. Austell, I was asked a thousand questions about you 
 appearance ; and I confounded them at once, by telling them that I h 
 conversed with you. 'How did you get introduced?' they inquire 
 •Nonsense,' said I — 'introduced ! — It is customary for the great peopl 
 that pass through St. Austell to call on Mr. Drew, and of course I did 
 So they stared at my impudence, as they considered it ; and 1 laughed 
 their folly." 
 
HI3 rOMESTlC HABITS. 
 
 23S 
 
 mer, he would sit by the fire while smoking, unless he could, 
 as a substitute, bask in the sun. " I hear people complain of the 
 heat," he has said ; " but for my part, I never found a summer's 
 day in which the thermometer might not have risen several de- 
 grees without subjecting me to inconvenience." 
 
 Not Dr. Clarke himself could inveigh in stronger terms 
 against the " abuse of tobacco" than Mr. Drew, although accus- 
 tomed to its daily use. He might have seconded the observa- 
 tion of Mr. Hall on the doctor's pamphlet — " I can't refute his 
 arguments, and I can't give up smoking ;" but the latter nega- 
 tive lie would have made conditional rather than absolute. 
 
 One evening, in 1830, in a friendly party, he was censuring, 
 as he frequently did, in no very gentle terms, this " expensive, 
 idle, dirty, and dissipated habit," which (turning to the ladies), 
 he observed, 
 
 " banishes for hours 
 The sex whose presence civilizes ours." 
 
 " But how comes it, sir," inquired one of the company, «« that 
 you, who speak so much against smoking, have adopted the 
 filthy practice, as you term it ?" — " If, madam, T were to begin 
 life again, I would not take it up ; but, having formed the habit 
 of smoking, it is no easy matter to abstain. However, I will 
 tell you a story of a young man I knew many years ago, and 
 you will see how these things are sometimes begun." He then, 
 as a third person, related his own adventure among the smug- 
 glers, which the reader will tind in Section VI., and added, " The 
 consequence of this niglu's exposure was, that the young man 
 had a wound in one of his legs nearly three years, which 
 nothing could cure. An acquaintance of his recommended 
 him to try smoking : — he did so, and the wound soon healed ; 
 though whether from that or another cause he could not say. 
 Be this as it may, he continued smoking as an idle habit, lived 
 to the age of sixty-five, is now alive and well, and is here to 
 tell you the tale." 
 
 The Sabbath being a day of rest, Mr. Drew did not take his 
 ordinary morning walk. Seven o'clock was the hour for com- 
 mencing the services of the day in the Methodist chapel, by 
 public prayer, and thither he always repaired. At the family 
 worship, on this morning, all the children who were able 
 read, in rotation, and in a similar manner they were expected to 
 read after dinner. On this day, too, especially, he sought op- 
 portunities of acquainting his children with the precepts and 
 
236 
 
 LIFK OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 doctrines of Christianity. These he seldom communicated in a 
 direct manner, lest he should awaken a repugnance to religious 
 instruction. By proposing some question or subject for consid- 
 eration, he endeavoured to elicit inquiry, and to make them 
 think closely and seriously about a matter of such vital impor- 
 tance. Nor was this method peculiar to his Sabbath instruc- 
 tion. The subject changed with the day, but his manner of 
 teaching was uniform. He adopted no particular system for 
 the mental culture of his children. They received the common 
 school education, and he sometimes inquired into their profi- 
 ciency, — taking care that in those points with which he was 
 himself conversant they should be well grounded, and able to 
 render a reason at each progressive step. His object was, not 
 merely to store the memory of his children, or of other young 
 persons who wished to benefit by his teaching, but to lead them 
 to tliink. 
 
 During Mr. Drew's residence in St. Austell, there was no 
 forenoon service in the Methodist chapel there — this being com- 
 menced at the urgent recommendation of Dr. Adam Clarke, 
 when he visited Cornwall in 1819. The Sabbath forenoon was 
 therefore Mr. D.'s chief time for the religious instruction of his 
 household, and for his own preparation for the pulpit. He never 
 esteemed himself a dissenter ; and, though not a due attendant, 
 was often seen at the parish church. Indeed, it used to be a 
 common remark, that when Mr. Drew had to preach in the 
 afternoon at St. Austell, he was sure to be at church in the morn- 
 ing. His sermons being too original and unique to favour the 
 supposition that he had attended to collect ideas, or to furnish 
 himself from the armory of another, it is probable that, in the 
 exercise of public devotion, he sought that quickening of the 
 spirit with which he desired to engage in his own ministerial 
 work. 
 
 It has been already intimated, that while Mr. D. was in 
 trade, the kitchen was his study, and his wife's bellows his 
 portable deslc. A lady, who deliglited greatly in his conversation, 
 says, " I used sometimes to go into his house of an evening, to 
 gossip with him ; but whenever I saw the bellows on his knee, 
 I knew it was time to retreat — there was no more talking then. 
 It was a sure sign to all of us that he wanted no company." 
 In later years he wrote standing at a high desk, only sitting to 
 read ; and this was his constant habit as long as he continued 
 his literary labours. 
 
 Adopting as a maxim, and rule of conduct. Pope's couplet — 
 
HIS DOMESTIC HABITS. 
 
 237 
 
 " Honour and shame from no condLlion rise : 
 Act well your part, — there all the honour lies," — 
 
 frequently after he had attained celebrity as an author, he per- 
 formed menial offices, the propriety of which may be thought 
 questionable. He felt no scruple either at going into the street 
 with a broom and wheelbarrow, to do the work of a scavenger, 
 as far as his premises extended, or, with the assistance of his 
 apprentices, to carry into the cellar his winter stock of coals, 
 which were not delivered in sacks, but tilted from the cart into 
 the road. Some one intimating to him that he was thus com- 
 promising his dignity, he replied, "The man who is ashamed 
 to carry in his coals deserves to sit all the winter by an empty 
 grate." One day, after using the broom, he came into his 
 house highly amused, saying, " I have learned a new text. Mr. 
 
 , who passed just now-, said, 'Well, Mr. Drew, I see you 
 
 are fulfilling that passage of Scripture, Let every man sweep 
 before his own door !' " 
 
 It cannot be thought that this was a mere exhibition of assumed 
 humility; nor was it a practice newly adopted. It was com- 
 menced with his business, and it had become habitual : for, be- 
 ing " full of wise saws and modern instances," he used frequently 
 to allege, that " he who would not save a feather would never 
 be worth a goose." Possibly he continued his former habits when 
 his circumstances did not render them necessary, to check 
 such feelings of self-complacency as public applause might 
 foster, and to perpetuate in his recollection " the hole of the 
 pit whence he was digged." Nor were his benevolent feelings 
 without their influence on these occasions ; though in later 
 years he admitted that to save money in such a manner for 
 purposes of charity, when, by furnishing employment, both 
 giver and receiver might be equally benefited, was false be- 
 nevolence. 
 
 In matters of domestic management Mr. Drew rarely inter- 
 fered. He used jocosely to say, " I endeavour to get the 
 money, and my good wife manages to spend it : — I seldom in- 
 quire how. She gives me meat, drink, and clothes ; and what 
 more can a man desire?" On one occasion, when household 
 economy was a topic of conversation, he remarked, "I would 
 recommend the men to leave that matter entirely to their wives, 
 :who understand it better. When I was first married I used to 
 go to market; but having proved my want of discernment by a 
 purchase in which I thought I had made a most profitable bar- 
 gain, I was thenceforward dismissed from office." 
 
 An instance of this indirect method of hinting at a defect in 
 
238 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DKEW. 
 
 domestic arrangements will be seen in the following, written 
 with a pencil on the back of a letter, and designed probably 
 for the servant's perusal : 
 
 " Amid the wonders Islington can boast, 
 That which must puzzle and surprise us most, 
 And give to bold credulity a shock. 
 Is Drew at breakfast before eight o'clock !" 
 
 In the TRAINING OF HIS CHILDREN, though he did not at all 
 times spare the rod, he seldom resorted to it ; knowing that its 
 frequent use blunts the finer feelings and sensibilities of our 
 nature, and degrades the child into the mere animal. His re- 
 luctance to adopt coercive measures may be inferred from the 
 following singular and amusing agreement with one of his boys, 
 who inherited much of his own youthful temper. The instru- 
 ment was found among his papers, formally engrossed on 
 parchment, and attested by the signatures of several witnesses. 
 
 " I Drew, of the parish of St. Austell, in the county of 
 
 Cornwall, do, of my own free consent, promise unto my father, 
 Samuel Drew, and un'o my mother, Honour Drew, and the 
 family, that I will endeavour to behave in a much better manner 
 in future than I have behaved during the last year. I will en- 
 gage not to run into the streets when they forbid me ; nor to 
 wander beyond tlie limits which they shall point out. When 
 I have liberty to go out, I will endeavour to avoid such company 
 as they dislike, to leave off speaking bad words, and to keep 
 my clothes as clean as lean, as well as scrape my shoes when- 
 ever I come into the house. I also promise that I will be as 
 peaceable as I can, when I am at home ; that I will not be 
 noisy or troublesome as I have been, nor keep my tongue 
 a-going about things which do not concern me ; that I will not 
 leave the doors open when I pass in or out, nor shut them in a 
 noisy manner, nor go up-stairs with my dirty shoes, especially 
 when I am told not to do so. I also promise that I will go 
 quietly to bed in the evenings, when I am desired, without being 
 troublesome to tlie person who may put me; and in all otiier 
 things show, to the utmost of my power, that a reformation has 
 taken place in my behaviour. In consideration of the above 
 conditions being fulfilled, it is promised, on the part of Samuel 
 
 Drew, that neither he nor any other person shall beat • 
 
 Drew, or give him unpleasant language, but treat him with tender- 
 ness and love, according to his good conduct. And it is further- 
 more promised unto Drew, that, during the whole time 
 
 of his good behaviour, he shall receive (besides his usual pocket 
 
TRAINING OF HIS CUILDREX. 
 
 239 
 
 money) one penny weekly, which, wilh any other money that 
 he may choose to bring, shall be lodged in his father's hands, 
 until a sum be saved suflicient to buy a watch. To enter the 
 above sums, a book shall be kept by his father, in which they 
 
 shall be regularly inserted, which book Drew shall see 
 
 whenever he shall so request. For the due performance of the 
 above conditions, we have hereunto set our hands and seals 
 this first day of January, one thousand eight hundred and four- 
 teen, from which day this agreement is to take place. 
 
 " * Drew, 
 
 " S.4MUEL * Drew, 
 " Honour * Drew. 
 
 " Signed, sealed, and delivered 
 (being first duly stamped) in 
 the presence of 
 
 " A. B." 4*c. dec 
 
 Few fathers manifested such strong paternal attachment ae 
 Mr. Drew. His children's welfare always claimed his attention. 
 Daily and hourly th.eir best interests were the object of his so- 
 licitude. There was no austerity in his manner, tending to 
 repel them from his company. On the contrary, he was ever 
 ready to listen to the most absurd or extravagant theories 
 which they might hazard, in morality or religion ; and, instead 
 of checking any remark because it might savour of impiety, he 
 lieard every argument they could adduce in favour of the propo- 
 sition, and then, by reasoning with them, endeavoured to ex- 
 pose the fallacy of their opinions. Thus imperceptibly, yet in 
 the rhost convincing manner, would he fortify their minds 
 against pernicious doctrines, and confirm their belief in the 
 most important truths. The confidence of his elder children 
 he thus gained ; and the allection of the juniors was always 
 bestowed upon a parent who would become their playmate, and 
 tell them stories without end. Though he could not prevent 
 their mixing with others, in and out of school-hours, he strove 
 to guard them, by his precepts, against evil example. "To 
 keep my children wholly from bad as.sociates," he has said, 
 " iii out of my power. I can only endeavour to instil good princi- 
 ples, show them a good example, and commend them in prayer 
 to God." 
 
 As they advanced towards maturity, their religious culture 
 became a more especial object of his regard. His letters to 
 tiiem were fraught with the most valuable and affectionate ad- 
 vice ; and in these written instructions, the fervent spirit of the 
 
240 
 
 LIFE OF SAMTIEL DREW. 
 
 Christian and love of tlie parent were combined with his 
 wonted familiarity. To his youngest daughter, who, after his 
 removal from St. Austell, and esjjccially after Mrs. Drew's de- 
 cease, became his personal charge, he was accustomed to ad- 
 dress, upon her birth-day, a few admonitory lines. One of 
 these addresses we insert, not as a specimen of poetry, but as 
 a proof of affection. 
 
 "TO MY DAUGHTER MARY, ON HER SEVENTEENTH 
 BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 "Accept, dear Mary, on thy natal day. 
 
 This kind expre.ssion of a father's love : 
 Warm from his heart it flows, without decay, 
 To thee in deeds — in prayer to God above. 
 
 Thy childhood past, but not matured in years, 
 
 Thy parents view thee in a path of strife, 
 And watch those steps with anxious hojies and fears 
 
 That soon will stamp thy destiny for life. 
 
 The dangerous ocean which thy bark must sail 
 Has rocks and shoals unseen, or found too late ; 
 
 And those who venture under passion's gale 
 Will suffer shipwreck on the shores of fate. 
 
 Taught from thy youth those templing scenes to shun 
 Where serpents lurk beneath delusive flowers, 
 
 Where folly's minions dance and are undone. 
 By fashion led to dissipation's bowers ; — 
 
 Revere the precepts which instruction gives : 
 
 Experience, reason, urge thee to be wise. 
 A father's voice may warn while yet he lives ; 
 
 O may Heaven's counsel lead thee when he dies ! 
 
 A Povver unseen o'er all thy steps presides. 
 
 To guard thy feet in virtue's sacr<;d road. 
 The cross atones — the Saviour's Spirit guides 
 
 From vice and sorrow to the throne of God. 
 
 An aged vviilovv sliould thy mother prove, 
 
 Who nursed and cherished thee with tender care. 
 
 Repay that kiniliiess with a daughter's love, 
 And in thy comforts let her claim a share. 
 
 Should he who writes prove destitute, forlorn, 
 
 Wrinkled, and gray, — his lingering hours beguile : 
 
 Age and decrepitude O do not scorn, 
 
 But cheer his evening with a filial smile. 
 
TRAINING OF HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 241 
 
 Then, when thy parents, summoned to the skies. 
 
 No more admonish, or thy actions see, 
 A generation yet unborn may rise, 
 
 To pay those duties rendered now by thee. 
 
 " Samuel Drkw. 
 
 "Sept. 10, 1826." 
 
 It was an affecting and a solemn season, when, on the day 
 of his wife's funeral, though heart-broken and overwhelmed 
 with grief at his sudden bereavement, he feelingly commended 
 his assembled children, one by one, to the Divine protection ; 
 prayed that the afflictive dispensation might be sanctified to 
 their eternal welfare; and, with a fond father's heart, implored 
 the blessing of Heaven on them and all iheir concerns. 
 
 We have no wish to represent Mr. Drew as immaculate. 
 In attempting a faithful moral picture, the blemishes should be 
 shown as well as the beauties ; nor does his character require 
 that any part should be " cast discreetly into shade." With 
 the sentiment so admirably expressed by a recent writer, we 
 fully accord — " It behooves us, with Christian discrimination, to 
 distinguish between grace and nature, — to give to God his own 
 glory, and refer to men their own infirmities."* But so few 
 and so trivial, in the eye of affection, were Mr. l>.'s defects, 
 that to particularize them is a task of difficulty. 
 
 Mr. Drew was habitually careful of the feelings of others. 
 On noticing a display of unnecessary rigour, or a want of sym- 
 pathy for a wounded spirit, he has often quoted, as a gentle 
 rebuke, that fine expression of Cowper, 
 
 " The tear that is wiped with a little address 
 May be followed, perhaps, by a smile." 
 
 Yet, at times, when his own children were in fault, his reproofs 
 were very severe. Blended with his prevailing good-nature, 
 there was a considerable proportion of natural sarcastic humour, 
 which, in his parental censures, he was not always careful to 
 repress. It was never unkindly meant, but its pungency some- 
 times inflicted an unintentional wound. 
 
 If we add to this, that, from his keen perception of moral 
 L order, he could not witness the most trivial deviation without 
 ►"very uncomfortable sensations, and that his love of propriety 
 [amounted to an almost morbid feeling, we shall have enumer- 
 
 * Gregory's Memoir of Robert Hall. 
 
242 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 ated the imperfections in his domestic character. In every 
 other view, we believe, his excellences were conspicuous, 
 
 " And even his failings leaned to virtue's side." 
 
 A gentleman with whom he was in constant intercourse 
 during tlie latter period of his life, remarks, "In all my ac- 
 quaintance vviih Mr. Drew I never saw any thing in him but 
 what was calculated to excite esteem and respect. His amia- 
 ble disposition was never overturned by peevishness or irrita- 
 bility of mind, even in the decline of his years, or the breaking 
 up of his constitution." 
 
 Affability and readiness to teach were always traits in 
 Mr. Drew's disposition. "His nature," as a lady who knew 
 him vvell expresses it, " was a coiiij)i)unci of kindness and 
 he was the beloved Mentor of all the young persons of his ac- 
 quaintance. Ever familiar and accessible, they felt no scruple 
 in stating to him their difficulties, or in making him, what he 
 was always ready to be, their confidential and friendly adviser, 
 l^'eelings of admiration cotdd not be repressed, on seeing the 
 timid virgin hanging with filial confidence upon his arm, and 
 drinking in knowledge from his lips ; or the stripling listening 
 to the intonations of liis voice, and watching every significant 
 gesture, while he, wiili the most affectionate concern, 
 
 "Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way." 
 
 "For young persons Mr. Drew had a particular regard, and 
 invariably drew them around him, evincing the greatest interest 
 for their welfare. He knew the many shoals and quicksands 
 on which, without guidance, they miglit make fatal shipwreck; 
 and, wiiile enforcing the importance and benefit of religion, he 
 added to it tlie diligent employment of time. . 'Youth,' he ob- 
 served, 'is the period in which to lay up a ricdi store of inform- 
 ation. It will |)rove like a warehouse full of var.ious kinds 
 of timber, all of which will be essentially useful to the skilful 
 workman, when he shall have got his tools about him, and 
 learned expertness in their usr. The timber he will then find 
 ready to shape and fashion into the forms suited to times and 
 circumstances.' With anecdotes of his own life he would also 
 occasionally enliven the social circle; deducing from all, reasons 
 for and incentives to diligence." Such is the statement of a 
 lady who had often listened to his familiar instructions. 
 
HIS PERSONAt CHARACTER. 
 
 243 
 
 There was a pious old woman, a Methodist, at whose house, 
 on the outskirts of St. Austell, Mr. Drew used frequently to 
 call on a Sabbath morning. Here he often met with young 
 persons belonging to the same religious society, who came 
 thither for serious conversation. With these, when time per- 
 mitted, he would enter into a discussion of such religious topics 
 as might be suggested, answer questions, and clear up diffi- 
 culties. This became a frequent levee of Mr. Drew's, and was 
 sure to be well attended. When he perceived any diffidence 
 or backwardness among his young friends, in proposing to him 
 their doubts, he urged them to cast asiile all such needless re- 
 serve. "Questions," he would remark, "are the keys that 
 unlock the treasures of knowledge. It is better to admit your 
 ignorance than to show it. The candid inquirer is always 
 welcome ; and don't fear hazarding a blunder now and then. 
 Remember that he who never made a blunder never made a 
 discovery." 
 
 An acquaintance wliich Mr. Drew formed, in the year 1809, 
 with a young lady, who, without introduction, sought his coun- 
 sel, and maintained with him a frequent correspondence, is 
 another instance of his accessibility and readiness to impart 
 instruction. The origin of their intimacy he thus explains to 
 the lady's brother : — 
 
 " The first letter I received from your sister was anonymous, 
 — proposing a variety of abstruse questions, on which the 
 writer desired me to give my opinion. As the letter contained 
 an expansion of mind which forcibly struck me, 1 felt a wish 
 to know who the writer was. I accordingly wrote a short 
 note, acknowledging the receipt of the letter alluded to above, 
 but observed, ' that in sending it without a name, the writer 
 had defeated his own purpose, by betraying that want of confi- 
 dence which deprived correspondence of its basis.' This pro- 
 duced from your sister a letter written in her own name, with 
 this intelligent apology for the former, — that, being a school- 
 girl, she concealed her name, lest her siiuation should prevent 
 her from receiving those answers to her various questions 
 which she desired. Astonished at finding a girl at school ca- 
 pable of proposing questions on which the learned world had 
 been divided, from the first dawn of science to the present day, 
 I gave her the best replies which the limits of a long letter 
 would allow. Such was the commencement of our corre- 
 spondence." 
 
 One of Mr. Drew's young female friends, when announcing 
 to him her expected residence in his neighbourhood after a 
 
244 
 
 LITE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 long absence, writes, in 1823, "I hope to see much of you, to 
 talk frequently to you, and once again share your kind instruc- 
 tions. I shall again mark the argumentative position of your 
 finger, the roguish turn of your expressive eye, and hear your 
 aftectionate exhortations to avoid evil and cleave to that which 
 is good." 
 
 The Moral Tales of Samuel Wesley he greatly admired. 
 He had committed them to memory, because of their point and 
 humour, for which he had always a keen relish ; and his 
 friendly admonitions to his female acquaintances were frequently 
 mingled with quotations from "the Cobbler," " the Mastiff," 
 and " the Basket." A lady whom he had given away at the 
 altar remarks, in a letter addressed to him shortly after her 
 marriage, " I always take care to ' pin the basket,' and I have 
 not attempted to ride the mastiff yet." To one of his daughters 
 he presented a copy of these tales, with this memorandum ap- 
 pended to "the Basket," — "Let no female acquaintance of 
 mine be married until she can repeat this piece. — Samuel 
 Dkew." 
 
 The letters which follow furnish a specimen of Mr. Drew's 
 familiar epistolary instructions. 
 
 " St. Austell, April 22, 1816. 
 
 " My dear Fhiend, 
 " Although many months have elapsed since I wrote you 
 last, this letter will inform you that omission implies neither 
 forgetful ness nor neglect. I frequently think of the few pleas- 
 ing hours we spent together, both at Harpur-street and at St. 
 John's-square. But these hours are gone for ever ; and 
 
 ' Of joys departed 
 Not to return, how painful the remembrance I' 
 
 "When I left London, I had some expectation of revisiting 
 it about this lime ; but a train of circumstances prevents me 
 from fulfilling my wishes, f, however, look forward to this 
 time twelvemonth, when, if life and health permit, 1 hope 
 again to see it. But this, I expect, will be the last time for life ; 
 and you will not be there, neither do I expect to see any of your 
 family, except such as live at St. John's-square, unless I come 
 when Dr. Clarke is in London. Of late I have been so busy, 
 that I have not been able to keep up a regular correspondence 
 with any person. 1 hope, in the course of a few months, to 
 
FAMILIAR ADVICE. 
 
 24S 
 
 have a little mi)re leisure, when I shall renew my acquaintance 
 with my old friends. 
 
 " When you write me, let me know what books you have been 
 reading, and what proficiency you have made in metaphysics. 
 Your last letter was written with too much hesitation, diffidence, 
 and perplexity. You must not be afraid of me. You saw me 
 a plain, blunt fellow, in London, who was mistaken for a black- 
 smith. Do not be afraid of committing yourself. Remember 
 this rule — The person who nemr made a blunder never made a 
 discovery. If you always tread near the central parts of a cir- 
 cle, you will never obtain much accurate knowledge of its cir- 
 cumference : and, consequently, you will never widen the hori- 
 zon of knowledge. It is on the extremily of the circle that 
 metaphysicians must walk ; and they must not be terrified, if 
 they sometimes slip their feet and fall. 
 
 " Since I last saw yon, I have not done much in this depart- 
 ment. Subjects of a difTerent nature have engaged my thoughts ; 
 nor do 1 think that I shall be able to turn my attention to the 
 study of this science until several months more have elapsed. 
 It is a thorny region ; but it furnishes firm footing, which af- 
 fords a recompense for all our toils. 
 
 " lint neither metaphysics, nor any merely human science, 
 can procure for us an interest in the felicities of eternity. All 
 may be made subservient to our eternal welfare., and may con- 
 tribute to that expansion of mind which we shall carry with us 
 into eternity. To what extent the mental faculties are capable 
 of expanding, it is probable that we shall never know, until we 
 enter into a world of spirits. Knowledge, without doubt, is an 
 inlet of felicity ; and perhaps no inconsiderable portion of happi- 
 ness in heaven will arise from our being able for ever to draw 
 from the ocean of eternal truth, without the possibility of ex- 
 hausting it. 
 
 " Hereafter we may have an opportunity of enlarging on this 
 important subject, should lime and favourable circumstances 
 concur. But, from that distance which lies between us, I 
 scarcely expect wc shall behold each other's fiices again. 
 
 " May the Lord in mercy bless you with health in time, and 
 happiness in eternity. 
 
 '* I remain your sincere friend, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Miss Mary Ann Clarke, 
 " Harpur-street, London." 
 
246 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 "Liverpool, Dec. 22, 1819. 
 
 " My dear Sister, 
 "I duly received your letter by Dr. Clarke, and was equally 
 glad to hear from my only sister thai her family was well, as 
 she could be to receive a letter from me. My health is good ; 
 I do not know that I have had an hour's indisposition since .1 
 left St. Austell. But you may be assured that my time is much 
 taken up about my business. It is not to be expected that I 
 could come hither to do nothing. Sometimes I find myself in 
 solitude, and sigh after home ; but 1 have here a numerous train 
 of friends, who do every thing in their power to make me com- 
 fortable ; and, hearing constantly from home, my gloom sub- 
 sides. 
 
 " I am exceedingly glad to find that your children all behave 
 themselves well. So long as this is the case, tell them that 
 their uncle will love and respect them ; but if they behave 
 badly, especially as they grow to maturity, he will have nothing 
 to do with them. To tell me that Mary is a good girl is giving 
 no new information ; it is only confirming that opinion which I 
 have always entertained of her, and which I hope she will never 
 give me any occasion to alter. Of James, also, I am much 
 pleased to hear a favourable account. He is now come to an 
 age in which his character should acquire stability ; and I 
 hope he will not give you any occasion to send me a difljerent 
 account when you write again. I hope that both Mary and 
 James will use ;ill the means in their power to improve their 
 minds, without losing sight of those duties which they owe to 
 God and.their parents. I hope that Jabez will conduct himself 
 well, and that he is attentive to his learning. I desire to know, 
 when you write next, how far he is advanced in ciphering, and 
 let him write on your letter a few words, that I may see how 
 his writing is improved. As to his behaviour, I expect it is such 
 as will bear examination, after due allowances for age and cir- 
 cumstances. I hope, while he behaves well, that I shall al- 
 ways respect him, on account of his uncle Jabez, whom he 
 never knew. Samuel is my namesake, and if he conducts 
 himself improperly, I shall be ready to wish that he had been 
 called something else ; but while he is a good lad, I shall be j 
 glad to think that he bears my name. Thomasin is called after | 
 her own modier's name, and my mother's. She is equal in J 
 name, — I hope she will be equal in good behaviour: while I 4 
 hear that this is the case, I shall love her, and shall always be 5 
 glad to hear of her welfare. As your health, my dear sister, 
 1 find from your letter, is rather precarious, this lays an addi- 
 
FAMILIAR AD VICE. 
 
 247 
 
 tional obligation on all the children to love, assist, and readily 
 obey your commands, as well as those of their father. And 
 whatever improvement they may make in any other respect, I 
 shall never have a very favourable opinion of them, if they 
 are disobedient to their parents. They may rest assured, that 
 while this is the case, the blessing of God can never be ex- 
 pected upon lliem, either while they are children or when they 
 are grown up to maturity. I am sorry to learn that your health 
 is in a declining state : I hope it amounts to nothing of a se- 
 rious nature. You ask me, will *I notice and respect your 
 children, should you be taken from them ? Yes, my dear sister, 
 so far as I can, consistently with my own family, your children 
 shall never want a friend while their uncle lives. I will advise 
 them, admonish, or reprove, and assist them to the utmost of 
 my power. 
 
 " To uncle I desire to be particularly remembered. Indeed, 
 I conceive that I am as much writing to him as I am to you; 
 only it would seem strange not to introduce his name. 1 have 
 some thoughts of visiting Cornwall, should I live to see the 
 summer ; but the distance is great, and the expense is heavy. 
 I am now nearly four hundred miles from you. May you live 
 long, and live happily together. I do not doubt that we shall 
 meet again in time ; but if not, I trust we shall meet in heaven. 
 
 "The spiritual advice which you request of me I scarcely 
 know how to give. I know you are naturally inclined to viev\r 
 every thing on the darkest side. Why should you doubt the 
 goodness of God ? or why question his ability or readiness to 
 save to the uttermost ? You say your faiih is little. 'I'his may 
 be; but remember, our safety does not depend upon the strength 
 or the weakness of our faith, but its Genuineness. The same 
 God who has hitherto kept you is able and willing to keep 
 you 10 the end. Little faith is always attended with doubts 
 and fears, — above which strong faith mounts ; but safety is as 
 much the lot of the one as of the other. The strength or weak- 
 ness of faith may, and will, affect our enjoyments, and have 
 a considerable influence on our joys and sorrows ; but both 
 that which is strong and that which is weak lay hold of Christ, 
 and He is the foundaiion of our hope. May God Almighty 
 grant you his blessing, in time and eternity ! So prays your 
 affectionate brother, brother-in-law, and uncle, 
 
 " Samuel Dr'ew. 
 
 » Mrs. T. Kingdon, Tywardreath." 
 
428 
 
 LIFE OF SAMCEL DREW. 
 
 " 38 Newgate-street, London, 
 " Aug. 30th, 1826. 
 
 "My dear Nephew, 
 
 " Your letter, though dated January 2d, did not reach me 
 until about a month since ; and it is not always that I can find 
 time to write, or an opportunity of sending what I have written 
 free of expense. However, that you may not ihink your letter 
 neglected, I have snatched a few moments from the common 
 avocations of life to devote, to you. 
 
 " I am glad to find that you are industrious and careful, and 
 that with you trade is brisk. Your only danger, I conceive, 
 arises from your giving credit to persons who cannot or will 
 not pay. Make good articles, and charge a good price, such 
 as the country will bear, and your trade will recommend itself. 
 
 " By turning your attention to reading, when the business of 
 the shop is over, you will find employment more profitable than 
 any association with companions can aflbrd, and furnish your 
 mind with resources that will always yield delight. 
 
 " You express a wish that I were nearer, to give you instruc- 
 tion in many things. Were I present, no doubt this could be 
 done. But remember, others can only point out the gates and 
 doors which lead to the fields of knowledge. Every one must 
 traverse the hills and valleys for himself; and it is only by un- 
 remitting application and perseverance that the attempt will be 
 crowned with success. 
 
 " You ask, ' Wherein lies the difference between foreknow- 
 ledge and predestination?' Foreknowledge is simply the (//j- 
 cernment of an action or thing that is about to exist; predes- 
 tination is the appointment of the a'^tion or thing. There is, 
 therefore, as much difference as there is between knowing the 
 destination of a ship and directing her to undertake and accom- 
 plish her voyage. 
 
 " Between tlie temptations of Satan and the evil inclinations 
 of our hearts the distinction is not so evident. Temptations 
 gen^erally assail us tlirough our inclinations, and give to tliem a 
 degree of strength which, without temptation, they could not 
 exercise. Temptation also frequently furnishes food for evil 
 inclination, by placing objects in our way ; as fishermen bait 
 their hooks to catch the finny tribes. In both cases, our duty 
 is to suppress evil inclination, and to resist temptation ; and 
 this power, througli Divine grace, may be attained. Do not 
 neglect to attend public worship, and to conduct yourself as the 
 principles of the Gospel require. Above all, look to Jesus, 
 
SINGULAR CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 249 
 
 through the efficacy of whose atonement our title to heaven is 
 to be obtained, by the exercise of faith. 
 
 " I shall be glad to hear from you whenever you can find time 
 to write, and beg you will not be afraid or ashamed to state any 
 question. 
 
 " That God may give you his blessing for time and eternity, 
 is the sincere wish of 
 
 " Your affectionate uncle, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " To Mr. James Kingdon, Jun., 
 " St. Blazey." 
 
 Fiirtlier illustrations of Mr. Drew's affectionate manner of 
 giving advice and instruction, in his familiar correspondence, 
 we hope to present at the close of the volume. 
 
 There are, perhaps, few more pleasing instances of his 
 freedom of communication than a correspondence which he 
 maintained with a lady, who was, at the time, the subject of 
 mental aberration. Two letters selected from this correspond- 
 ence we introduce. That from the lady may gratify curiosity, 
 as exhibiting a remarkable instance of monomania. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 "As one of our nurses is going to St. Austell, I have taken 
 the liberty of troubling you with a few lines of inquiry after 
 your health. 
 
 " I shall not apologize for sending the poetry, as I trust it 
 will be acceptable. You will see, by the sentiments, it was 
 not lately written, and will forgive the warmth of my expres- 
 sions, when I tell you it was composed within a few weeks 
 of my first becoming an inmate of the lunatic asylum. The 
 answer to my vindication of you was written by one of my 
 companions ; who, on taking a cursory review of your work, 
 had condemned it as being a wild chimera, and, in fact, estab- 
 lishing nothing. I was informed of thi-^ previously to my see- 
 ing him ; and the energies of friend. ship, perhaps heightened 
 by disorder, produced that epistle almost extemporary, which 
 lyou will find in the beginning of the book. I had an interview 
 la few days after, and was sufficiently mortified and punished 
 'for the temerity of my attack, by finding poetry was his least 
 accomplishment; he was sensible, elegant, refined, and fasci- 
 nating. 
 
 " You, who know 'great wit to madness nearly is allied,' 
 
250 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 will not be surprised at my saying, that I have here met with 
 gentlemen (I am sorry to be obliged to write in the past tense) 
 of superior sense and learning to what I had been accustomed 
 — whose insanity consisted chiefly in eccentricities ; — those we 
 dignify with the name of rational madmen. The book I have 
 sent is a present to you from a most worthy gentleman, who is 
 one of the principal of our committee ; and, from some fancied 
 merit, perhaps, has kindly noticed me ever since my first com- 
 ing to the house, which he visits every week with the other 
 gentlemen of .'he city. 
 
 " He had read and admired your work on the ' Identity of 
 the Human Body,' and, seeing your name on my scrawl, kindly 
 offered to send any letter to you, and that I would beg your 
 acceptance of tliis book, with his respects. You may suppose 
 how willing I was lo oblige a person I have so much reason 
 to esteem, and, if I have not disobliged you, shall not be dis- 
 satisfied with what I have done. 
 
 " With my best wishes, 
 
 " I remain, dear sir, 
 
 " Yours respectfully, 
 
 "I have lately begun to read Locke, whom I understand pretty 
 well, upon the whole; but I should be obliged by your telling 
 me, if what he terms pure space, infinite space, and vacuum are 
 synonymous, and whether it excludes even air and eihijr. I con- 
 fess 1 cannot readily comprehend this; and, if so, how am I 
 to understand his own words, at the 137ih page of the first 
 book, viz. — ' For I desire any one so to divide a solid body, of 
 any dimension he pleases, as to make it possible for tlie solid 
 parts to move up and down freely every way within the bounds 
 of their superficies, if there be not left in it a void space as big 
 as the least part into which he has divided the said solid 
 body.' 
 
 " Is the space he there mentions of the same nature as pure 
 space? But what can we know of space which excludes air? 
 'And let this void space,' says he, 'be as little as it will, 
 it destroys the hypothesis of plenitude.' I am sorry to 
 trouble you, but well remember how clearly I comprehended 
 your discourse of space infinite, and infinite space, when I saw 
 you ; and doubt not but I shall be able to understand your defi- 
 nitions." 
 
 [" Received July 31, 1812, yrom the Nurse of the Asylum. 
 
 " S. Drew."] 
 
SINGULAR CORKESPONDENCE. 
 
 251 
 
 "St. Austell, July 31, 1812. 
 
 " My old CORRESPOXDEXr, 
 
 " Your letter, your miinuscript, and the treatise translated by 
 Mr. M. readied me in safety, and this letter is designed to be 
 returned by the person who brought me the parcel. I sin- 
 cerely thank, you for each favour, and am much pleased with 
 all. I have perused all your lines with pleasure, and have 
 discovered in each piece much of that original genius for 
 which 1 have always given you the fullest credit. In some 
 instances, your language is humorously severe, particularly 
 on Dr. D., ' wiiose face is always best covered.' Your vindi- 
 cation of my Essay proves the warmth and sincerity of your 
 friendsliip. Some of the strokes are bold and full of energy. 
 It_ plainly appears that you have entered into the tendency and 
 design of that publication, and that you have fully appreciated 
 the force of many of my arguments. When friendship and 
 judgment are united, they carry the mind to its intended object 
 with more than common rapidity. 
 
 " On your questions concerning Mr. Locke's observations 
 on spuce, and pleniluJe, and vacuum, I will make a few re- 
 marks. Mr. Locke considers that space has a positive exist- 
 ence, that it is necessarily existent, and that it is infinite in its 
 expansion. On the contrary, lie conceives that matter is only 
 
 finite, and, because finite, that it is neither necessarily existent 
 nor eternal. From these two considerations it follows, ihaf 
 space must be more extensive than matter or body ; — space 
 being boundless, because infinite, and matter or body being 
 bounded, because finite ; and consequently there must be some 
 space in the universe where no body is. Mr. Locke, on this 
 princi^ile, argues, that if there had not been space in the uni- 
 verse without body, body must be infinite, and then there would 
 liave been a universal plenitude of body; in which case, motion 
 would have been impossible, because every body in motion must 
 then have moved through solidity, which is impossible. But 
 since there is motion in the material world, he justly concludes 
 that there must be space without body, which is demonstrated 
 by the existence of motion. When he speaks of pure space, 
 he conlines his view to simple expansion alone, excluding from 
 
 k that idea, not only the extent of its dimensions, but body also. 
 
 } Infinite space he views in its boundless extent, without regard- 
 Lig whether it be connected with matter or not. Vacuum is 
 certainly nothing more than the mere negation of matter ; and, 
 though sometimes blended with the idea of space, in the room 
 of wiiich the- term is sometimes substituted, it is certainly dis- 
 
254 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 but it has been at almost the lowest grade. It now seems 
 ascending, and Providence perhaps designs to make me instru- 
 mental to its elevation." 
 
 So much did Mr. D. shrink from public notice, that, within 
 two years of his decease, having been on some particular 
 occasion in the city on a Sunday morning until it was too late 
 to return to his usual place of worship, he would not go into a 
 Wesleyan chapel where he was known, le.st he should attract 
 attention, or be invited to preach. After standing awhile in 
 the lobby, he said to the gentleman who accompanied him, 
 " Well, I really do not like to go in — let us go to some 
 church." 
 
 Being reminded of the high encomium which Dr. Clarke, in 
 his autobiography, had passed upon him,* he observed, 
 "That is quite an hyperbole, beyond all reason. Yet a liter- 
 ary gentleman told me, that, independently of the compliment, 
 the paragraph in which the doctor has introduced my name is 
 the most elegantly written in the whole volume. Dr. Clarke 
 liked my metaphysics because 1 took up my subject as I found 
 it in nature, without entangling it with any preconceived 
 notions and opinions. But, dear me, what should I be beside 
 the metaphysicians of Scotland? They'd frigliten me out of 
 my wits — though, perhaps, more about the etymology of terms 
 — whether this were derived from the Greek, and that from 
 the Latin or French, and so forth — than with the subject of 
 discussion itself." 
 
 The same diffidence of his own abilities will be seen in the 
 
 * «' Among those whom Mr. Clarke joined to the Methodist society in 
 St. Austell was Samuel Drew, then terminating his apprenticeship to a 
 shoemaker, and since become one of the iirst metaphysicians in the em- 
 pire ; as his works on the Immateriality and Immortahly of Ihe Soul of 
 man, the Identity and Resurrection of the Human Body, and the Bci7ig 
 and Attributes of God sufficiently testify. A man of primitive simplicity 
 of manners, amiableness of disposition, piety towards God, and benevo- 
 lence to men, seldom to be equalled ; and for reach of tliouglit, keenness 
 of discrimination, purity of language, and manly eloquence, not to be sur- 
 passed in any of the common walks of life. He shortly liecanie a local 
 preacher among the Methodists, and in this office he continues to the 
 present day. In short, his circumstances considered, with the mode of 
 his education, he is one of those prodigies of nature and grace which God ^ 
 rarely e,xhibits ; but which serve to keep np the connecting link between j 
 those who arc confined to houses of clay, whose foundations are in the ] 
 dust, and beings of superior order, in those regions where infirmity can- 
 not enter, and where the sunshine of knowledge suffers neither diminution 
 nor eclipse." — Life of Dr. Clarke, vol. i. p. 319. 
 
HIS PEKSONAL CHARACTER 
 
 255 
 
 following letter, which exhibits much candour, modesty, and 
 correct thinking. 
 
 " St. Austell, Jan. 10, 1810. 
 
 " My bear Sir, 
 
 " I am happy to find that my letter reached you at a mo- 
 ment when you were in a good humour. I should have learned 
 this fact from the vivacity of your epistle, if you had not 
 informed me ; and I hope this will not meet your eye in a less 
 auspicious hour. 
 
 " I thought, when you hinted that my philosophy had not 
 subdued my prejudices, that you intended to rally me on some 
 branches of my creed ; but, on perusing further, 1 soon found 
 that your pleasing lenitives far outweighed the corrosives 
 wliich I expected. 1 thank yon for your hints, and really ad- 
 mire your masterly apology for my views of eternal things. 
 Believe me, my dear sir, I have embraced the sentiments 
 which I briefly stated from a conviction of their propriety, 
 though arising from a combination of causes which it would 
 be difficult to define, and of which it would be almost impos- 
 sible 10 mark the discriminating influence. Suflice it to say, 
 that the efl"ect was produced, and the result still continues, 
 however incompetent I may find myself to trace the various 
 branches to their respective sources. 
 
 " I sincerely thank you for the few observations which you 
 made on Mr. Professor Scott and Mr. D. Stewart. I had no- 
 thing in view but private gratification wiien I inquired after 
 them. Perhaps it is natural to the human mind to feel some 
 solicitude about those of whom we have heard, especially 
 when they have distinguished tliemselves in those departments 
 of literature which are congenial with the bias of our thoughts. 
 By first writing to me, a perfect stranger, half-buried in ob- 
 scure life, you did me an honour which I can acknowledge, but 
 not requite. 
 
 I" .-Vs you have seen the memoirs of my life which 1 prefixed 
 to my ' Essay on the Resurrection,' I need not tell you my 
 personal history, nor descant upon the difficulties through 
 which I have passed, to enter the field of literature. It was 
 fcny lot to have no education ; but whether I may reckon this 
 kmong the misfortunes or advantages of my life, it is hard to 
 feay The mind, without doubt, receives its polish from the 
 refinements which education imparts, and becomes expanded 
 in proportion to the objects which are presented to its views. 
 If this advantage had been mine, I should have been considered 
 
256 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 as a competitor with men whom I could not rival, and should 
 have sunk into insignificance by falling short of my mark. My 
 learning would have broken the optic of compassion, and have 
 exposed me to a naked inspection which I could not have 
 withstood. From these dangers I am now happily shielded ; 
 so that, on the whole, I have no reason to complain. Under 
 present circumstances, I have obtained a reputation through 
 friendship which I could not have acquired from rigid justice,* 
 if knowledge had unrolled her ample stores with a more liberal 
 hand. Reputation, however, is only a remote consideration ; 
 and when first I commenced author, { had no more expectation 
 of obtaining fame than I had of procuring wealth. 
 
 " I trust, amid the events and incidents of life, that God vvill 
 give me grace so to pass through time, that I may, through 
 the merits of Jesus Christ, obtain at last ' an inheritance in- 
 corruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away.' 
 
 " That this may be our joint portion in eternity, though we 
 may never behold each other's faces in time, is the sincere 
 desire of, 
 
 " Reverend and dear sir, 
 
 " Yours most sincerely, 
 
 " Samuel Dkew. 
 " Rev. Professor James Kidd, Aberdeen." 
 
 In a former part of our narrative we have noticed, at some 
 length, Mr. Drew's intkgrity and humanity in early life. 
 Of these qualities a few illustrations of more recent date may- 
 be acceptable. 
 
 A day or two before his removal from London, though his 
 mind was then unhinged, he enumerated very particularly the 
 different charitable and other institutions to which he was a 
 coiuributor, and placed in his daugiitcr's hands a year's sub- 
 scription for each, that all obligations of that kind might be 
 fully discharged. 
 
 During a season of dearth he bargained with a farmer for a 
 busheP of wheat monthly, throughout tiie year, at a fixed rate. 
 A few weeks afterward the price of corn fell nearly one-third. 
 The terms of the bargain did not bind him to purcliase under^ 
 such circumstances; but he regarded the spirit rather than thel 
 letter of the agreement ; and, contrary to the farmer's expect^ 
 ation, continued to buy during the twelve months at the stipufl 
 lated price. The farmer appreciated Mr. D.'s honourable con^ 
 duct, and brought him a thirteenth bushel gratis. 
 
 * The Cornish is equal to three imperial bushels. 
 
HIS PERSONAL CHARACTKR. 
 
 257 
 
 Bv most of the inhabitants of Cornwall it will be recollected, 
 that about the period when the West Briton newspaper was 
 commenced, much acrimonious feeling either real or pretended 
 was shown towards its editor by the proprietor and editor of 
 the Cornwall Gazette, then recently become an ultra tory 
 journal. These gentlemen had been previously on terms of 
 peculiar intimacy ; and Mr. Drew was the friend and acquaint- 
 ance of boih. Before the appearance of the West Briton, and 
 while the Cornish advocates of parliamentary reform were, by 
 the exclusion of their communications from the other paper, 
 compelled lo publish their sentiments in pamphlets, Mr. D. 
 received the following letter : — 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " You have doubtless seen Mr. Budd's reply ; to which, 
 you will admit, there is a necessity for a rejoinder. In that 
 rejoinder I shall, with the view of showing his ' unfitness to 
 write upon parliamentary reform^ instance, among other mat- 
 ters, his avowed hostility to the Church, as displayed in his 
 debate with you the evening you and I spent with him at his 
 house ; and I do expect, from your honour and conscience, that 
 you will not blink the truth when called upon. I merely give 
 you this as a notice of my intended use of your name. If you 
 have any thing to say in the mean time, I shall be glad to hear 
 from you by post. 
 
 " Mr. Samuel Drew, St. Austell." 
 
 This letter was followed by another the next day, apolo- 
 gizing for having inadvertently sent the first without date or 
 name. There is a severity of reproof and a spirit of manly 
 integrity in Mr. Drew's reply. The former part of it was 
 written before the receipt of the second letter. 
 
 i " St. Austell, May 21, 1810. 
 
 t "Dear Sir, 
 
 Wl "I this morning received a letter, without a date and with 
 out a name, which I have reason to believe came from you, as 
 ^wio other person could have been acquainted with the subjec^ 
 ^Bp which it alludes. It is rather singular that both name and 
 ^^Bate should be omitted through mere accident. It has all the 
 ^^Rppearance of suspicious caution or secret design. 
 
 " I am extremely sorry to find that you intend so far to 
 W violate the laws of hospitality, as to publish to the world a pri- 
 f vate conversation which took place about two years since ; and 
 Y2 
 
258 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 that you intend to draw from it an inference injurious to the 
 man at whose house both yon and I were entertained. I hope 
 your political principles will not influence your memory. 
 
 " It is with peculiar reluctance that I shall attempt, at the 
 bar of the public, to decide between two men whose merits I 
 highly esteem ; but, when summoned before the tribunal, you 
 need not fear that I shall ' blink the truth.' I have no right to 
 forbid you to publish what you heard ; and neither interest nor 
 weakness will induce me to request you to suppress my name. 
 I hope, however, in future, to be cautious how I take either 
 side of an abstract argument in your presence. 
 
 " I remain, dear sir, 
 
 " Yours most respectfully, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Mr. Thomas Flindcll, Truro. 
 
 " May 22£i. — The former part of this letter was written, 
 folded up, and directed before I received yours this morning. 
 I intended to send it by post last evening, but was too late. 
 Your letter of to-day, of course, nullifies all my first paragraph. 
 With respect to the second, I can only repeat my regret that 
 you should meanly stoop to an action which you would despise 
 in another. In the name of friendship, 1 beg you to desist from 
 a deed that hereafter you will blush to own. Let public ques- 
 tions siand on public ground. For my part, I am no politician, 
 as you well know, and do not care two straws about the pres- 
 ent contest. But I feel sorrow vvhen I see the bonds of friend- 
 ship broken, the laws of hospitality violated, confidence be- 
 trayed, and public questions degenerating into low personal- 
 ities. 1 remain, dear sir, notwitlistanding the tone of this 
 letter, with best wishes for your welfare, 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 " Samuel Drew." 
 
 One of the remarks which Mr. Drew sometimes made — " I 
 should fear a poor man's curse far more than I should value a 
 rich man's smile," — shows that he was at once independent and 
 humane. Indeed, these qualities were very early developed ; 
 they became, in after-years, settled principles of action 
 
 He once, when a young man, rebuked his sister with great 
 severity, for applying some unkind epithet to his father's par- 
 ish apprentice. There was a poor girl distantly related to 
 him, who, being deficient in understanding, was neglected and 
 
HIS PERSONAL CHARACTER. 
 
 559 
 
 unkindly treated by her own family. In great distress she 
 came to his house, 
 
 " Claim'd kindred there, and had her claim allowed." 
 
 He took, her under his protection, applied, on her behalf, to the 
 magistrates, and did not relax his efforts until he had obtained 
 for her a suitable provision. 
 
 Another little anecdote of his early life evinces his feeling 
 disposition. On a severe winter's day, when a youth, he shot 
 some sterlings, which were put into a pudding for his dinner. 
 When the pudding was brought to table, the idea that he had, 
 for mere sport, taken advantage of the birds' necessities to de- 
 stroy them, oppressed him so much that he could not eat a 
 morsel. " The apparition of the starlings," he said to a friend, 
 when relating the circumstance, "had haunted him ever since ; 
 and he never reflected on that day's shooting excursion without 
 regret." To some readers this may appear a mawkish affect- 
 ation of sensibility : those who knew Mr. D. will judge 
 otherwise. 
 
 On one occasion, going to collect some book-debts, he entered 
 a house where they had owed him money a long time. Sev- 
 eral of the children were ill, and there were manifest indica- 
 tions of poverty. Instead of demanding the debt, he gave 
 them a donation. To one of his boys who accompanied him, 
 and knew for what purpose he called at the house, this proceed- 
 ing was incomprehensible ; and, with childish simplicity, after 
 quitting it, he inquired the reason. The tear started into Mr. 
 Drew's eye ; and, making some observation not now remem- 
 bered, he said, 
 
 • Teach me to feel another's wo. 
 To hide the fault I see ; 
 The mercy I to others show, 
 That mercy show to me." 
 
 Once, while resident in London, Mr. D. walked a consid- 
 erable distance for the purpose of giving half a crown to a 
 worthy man in poor circumstances, who had, during his absence 
 from home, brought a complimentary message from his mas- 
 ter ; and he was at much pains to j)rocure for him an advance 
 of wages. The fact, though trivial, is characteristic. 
 
 On ihe marriage of his youngest daughter — the only wed- 
 ding in his family at which he was present, — his sensibility 
 was pleasingly shown. After the ceremony, leading his daugh- 
 
260 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 ter to the parents of his son-in-law, he said to them, "I now 
 present you with the most precious gift which Heaven has put 
 into my power to bestow. If I thought she woukl be unhappy, 
 I should break my heart." Then, pausing a moment or two, 
 very much affected, he added, " But no ; I have better hopes. 
 I shall not consider that I have lost a daughter, but that I 
 have gained a son — and may God bless them together." Allu- 
 ding to the circumstance, in conversation with his children, he 
 remarked, " After you and the rest were gone, I threw myself 
 on the sofa, and 
 
 ' Some natural tears I clr6pped, but wiped them soon.' " 
 
 An intelligent woman, in humble circumstances, a native of 
 Newcastle-upon-Tyne, now residing near St. Austell, very re- 
 cently gave the following relation to Mr. Drew's sister. " It 
 was about ten years since that I went to see my friends at 
 Newcastle, and was returning by way of Portsmouth on board 
 the steam-packet. I was a deck passenger, and had with me 
 a child about twelve months old, unable to walk. Soon after I 
 was on board, I was accosted by a gentleman, who, in a very 
 kind manner, inquired how far I was going, whether the child 
 were not a great charge in travelling, and other familiar ques- 
 tions. He was constantly employed in helping the sick, es- 
 pecially the females and children. There were two little blue- 
 coat boys that he had especially taken under his protection. 
 They followed him wherever he went, and when he was sit- 
 ting down and talking, they hung over him with so much afl~ec- 
 tion that it was supposed they were near relatives ; but, to the 
 inquiry of some one, they answered ' No,' and that they had 
 never seen tlie gentleman before. As the evening drew on, it 
 began to rain. He tlien came to me and said, ' This exposure 
 will not do for you and the child ; I must contrive some shelter 
 for you ;' and lie accordingly got some tarpawlings, and made 
 a comfortable screen for us. I was not sick ; so he then left 
 me, that he might help those who were, and he continued assist- 
 ing them most of the night. The passengers were all surprised 
 at his incessant kindness and attention, in the morning he 
 came to me again, and with much benevolence of manner in- 
 quired whether I had breakfasted, and expressed his satisfac- 
 tion that I had. About ten o'clock he came once more, and 
 said, 'What are you going to have for dinner?' — ' Tea, sir,' I 
 replied. — ' Ah !' said he, ' that is too weak for you.' At din- 
 ner-time he brought me a loaf, plenty of cold tongue, and some 
 
Hi! PERSONAL CHARACTER. 
 
 261 
 
 London porter, saying, ' Now, tiike this, and it will strengthen 
 you.' On my observing that I could not make use of half of 
 it, he replied, ' Then put the remainder in your basket ; it will 
 do another time.' 
 
 " In the evening, when we arrived at Plymouth (where the 
 steam-packet passengers for the west used to remain for the 
 night), the gentleman, supposing that I was a stranger to the 
 place, offered to pay my expenses at an inn. I thanked him, 
 but said my friends were near. Next morning, as I was com- 
 ing on board, he was already there, with his attendants the 
 blue-coat boys ; and he called to one of the sailors to take my 
 child, while he assisted me out of the boat. His kind atten- 
 tions were continued till we reached Fowey, where I left the 
 vessel : he and the two boys went on to Falmouth. Who the 
 gentleman was I did not then know; but 1 afterward learned 
 that it was Mr. Drew ; and never will his kindness be erased 
 from my memory."* 
 
 With so much of the love of his neighbour in his composi- 
 tion, it will be supposed that Mr. Drew had few enemies. A 
 gentleman who knew him well says, " I am quite sure he 
 never deserved one." Few persons, perhaps, have passed 
 through life, in this respect, more peacefully. In his unassum- 
 ing manners and equanimity of temper there was scarcely any 
 thing on which envy itself could fasten. The governing max- 
 ims of his life, in his intercourse with others, were, " Never give 
 or take offence," and, " Never make an enemy where you can 
 secure a friend." His indignation was sometimes roused at 
 crime ; but no one ever saw him overcome with anger ; and 
 there were few, we believe, of his neighbours who cherished 
 against him hostile feelings. The only individual who was 
 
 * It is a pleasing task to trace the features of affinity between kindred 
 minds. A delineator of the character of the Rev. Robert Hall says, " A 
 very prominent quality of his mind seemed to be benevolence. He sym- 
 pathized most deeply with all forms of distress, by the exertions of his 
 talents, and by pecuniary aid to the full extent of his means. It was 
 easy to discern in him a great concern and anxiety to render those that 
 were about him as comfortable as possible, and a visible delight in the 
 pleasure of his friends. Akin to his great benevolence was an unusual 
 sensibility to kindness. Little services, ofBces of respect and affection, 
 small endeavours to promote his comfort, that would generally be consid- 
 ered as matters of course even from those whose relation to him made 
 the action a duty, would diffuse a gleam of benignity and satisfaction, and 
 draw forth lively expressions of gratitude." — Dr. Gregory's Memoir, 
 p. 270, i2mo. edition. 
 
262 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 known to speak of him with rancour, in his last sickness sent 
 for Mr. Drew to pray with him and instruct him in the verities 
 of the Christian religion. That the request was complied 
 with, those who knew Mr. D. need not be informed. 
 
 An exemption from " the strife of tongues" he did not expect. 
 Quoting, as a solace for others, a well-known aphorism, he used 
 frequently to observe, "Censure is a tax which every man 
 must pay for being eminent." At one time, several anonymous 
 letters, not of the most laudatory description, were sent from 
 the neighbouring town of Mevagissey. The " head and front 
 of his offending," according to the writer's allegations, was an 
 unbecoming intimacy with clergymen, and a deficiency of true 
 sectarian spirit! These communications, after their perusal, 
 were generally consigned to destruction. One of them has, 
 however, escaped the flames ; and, willi a few omissions, we 
 insert it literally, as a curiosity. 
 
 " To Mr. Samuel Drew, St. Austell. 
 
 " It has long been the practice of writers to complain of 
 the infidelity of the age, without attempting to remove the 
 cause ! It is self-evident to every disinterested discerning per- 
 son, that the great cause of infidelity in this land, as well as in 
 France, is the unchristian profaneness and profligate lives of 
 the clergy, as they term themselfs ; — a name as unfit for them 
 as any set of profligates within the bounds of space ! ! 
 
 "And it is most deplorable, that men of great ability who 
 have sprang up among the laity (as the clergy in the height 
 of their arrogance call them !) instead of exercising their 
 powers to overtlirow the hydra-headed monster! who have 
 been the cause of so much evil, — for the sake of a little worldly 
 popularity and patronage, have either shamefully deserted the 
 cause of truth altogether, by joining its enemies and increabing 
 the mist of error, — or contented themselfs with attacking its 
 outposts, while the citadel have stood secure and unaliacked. 
 Alas ! alas ! how will these men answer for the ten talents 
 committed to their keeping ! ! What a noble contrast do the 
 names of Milton, Locke, &.c. <fcc. furnish, when compared with 
 the above ! 
 
 " Now I consider the productions of your pen of that class 
 which have only attacked the outposts of infidelity : and so 
 far have you been from meddling with the citadel, that you 
 have, by your conduct, even upheld it (as far as lay in your 
 power). It is true, you have not built a buttress to support the 
 
ANONYMOUS CENSURES. 
 
 263 
 
 toiering fabric ! ! but by attending the lectures of card-playing, 
 ball-attending, drunken parsons, you have given the weaiv an 
 example, while the man of stronger penetration have another 
 plea for his unbelief — or, to use the more appropriate language 
 of an elegant writer, 
 
 ' The weak, perhaps, are mov'd, but are not taught ; 
 While prejudice in men of stronger minds 
 Takes deeper root, confirm'd by what they see.' 
 
 " Perhaps you may deny my hypothesis, and, consequently, 
 ray deductions. But I appeal to the writers of the past and 
 present ages, against Christianity, as an evidence to the truth 
 of my assertions. Have not their greatest plea and objection 
 to the Christian faith been the immoral conduct of many of its 
 professors, and more especially the pi-iests established by 
 laic.'! But how can any person expect you to write against 
 them 1 Was not the Rector of Ruan-Lanyhorne your great 
 patron, and recommender to the ' Monthly Reviewers V nay ! — 
 did he not write that pompous ' Review' of the production of 
 the ' untutored child of nature V Have not you shaken hands 
 with the Vicar of Manaccan — that great champion of truth! — 
 who made a most scandalous, false, malicious, and diabolical 
 attack on the Methodists, and was silenced by you? — Has he 
 then recanted iiis sentiments, and acknowledged his fault? No! 
 but he have published a 'Literary History of Cornwall,' and 
 what are truth, or IMethodism, when put in competition with 
 liaving a name among the literati of Cornwall? Such sub- 
 stances dwindle into mere shadows when there is another step 
 to be added to ' young ambition's ladder,' especially with a man 
 who has not deigned to let the world know he is a Methodist ! ! 
 But a concourse of ideas rush on my mind, which my present 
 sheet forbids doing justice to; therefore, I end my general re- 
 marks, and proceed to answer your observations on my last. 
 
 '"You do not care,' it is said, 'how many letters you re- 
 ceive, if the postage is paid.' I answer, you need not concern 
 yourself on this head ; for 1 positively affirm, you shall not be 
 put to any expense by any letter from me. I intended to have 
 , enclosed a shilling under the seal of this, if you had not refused 
 to take up any more letters unless they were post-paid ; which 
 obliged me to post-pay this, at whatever hazard of being de- 
 tected.— Under the seal of this you will find the postage of the 
 former, with interest. 
 
 " But you think it is much better 1 keep the money, and buy 
 a spelliag-book. I beg leave to inform you that I have a suf- 
 
264 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 ficiency for that purpose after paying the postage. At the same 
 time it excites one's admiration to hear yon objecting to a letter 
 because there is a small error in the spelling, after the many 
 elegant epistles you have received from a certain acquaintance 
 of yours in this town, who cannot sptll a word of only five or 
 six letters correct ; but ' Praise from the smutch'd artificer is oft 
 too welcome, and may much disturb the bias of the purpose.' 
 But though I do not pretend to be a perfect orthographer 
 or philologist, yet I can detect errors in doctrine, though sur- 
 rounded by the sophistical glare of philosophic chicane. There 
 is not any thing in these letters that I should be ashamed of ; for 
 
 ' Who noble ends by noble means obtains, 
 Or, failing, smiles in exile or in chains, 
 Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed 
 Like Socrates, — that man is great indeed.' 
 
 "An Observek. 
 
 "Mevagissey, August 21st, 1810." 
 
 A young preacher complaining one day that he had received 
 an anonymous letter, censuring his pulpit oratory, — "Don't 
 heed it," said Mr. Drew, " any further than to profit by its ob- 
 servations, if true. I have had scores of such letters since I 
 became an author, and often with postage to pay. They never 
 trouble me, and I generally put them into the fire. But these 
 letters are sometimes of use. Our good qualities we may learn 
 from our friends ; from our enemies we may chance to dis- 
 cover our defects." 
 
 It was seldom that Mr. Drew's benevolent feelings overcame 
 his judgment, or led him into an act of indiscretion ; yet he 
 was not infallible. It has been stated, that in the commence- 
 ment of his authorship, being too unguarded in his remarks, 
 he was threatened with an action for libel. On a subsequent 
 occasion, his inherent antipathy to arbitrary power led him into 
 an unpleasant dilemma. 
 
 A wealthy member of the Wesleyan society at St. Austell 
 had been charged with oppressive conduct in some temporal 
 transactions : and, at a meeting of inquiry, it was resolved,^ 
 perhaps too precipitately, that he should no longer be considered . 
 a member. Instead of the usual oral communication in such ' 
 cases, the resolutions of the meeting were committed to writing, 
 signed by the individuals present, and sent to the accused. By 
 this mode of procedure the signing parties subjected themselves 
 to an action at law ; and a legal process was commenced 
 
HIS PERSONAL CHARACTER. 
 
 265 
 
 against each. Prompted by his feelings, Mr. Drew had taken 
 a prominent part in the affair, and thus rendered himself par- 
 ticularly obnoxious to the gentleman whose character was im- 
 peached. As the only condition of suspending legal proceed- 
 ings, it was required that the parties should pay the expenses 
 already incurred, sign a paper acknowledging their error, and 
 that this paper should be read by Mr. D. in the public congre- 
 gation. With these conditions it was judged expedient to 
 comply. 
 
 The gentleman's resentment was temporary. An explana- 
 tion of his conduct was given, — the right hand of fellowship 
 extended on either side, — and from this inauspicious beginning 
 commenced a greater degree of intimacy between him and Mr. 
 Drew than had previously subsisted. 
 
 SECTION XXVIII. 
 
 Mr. Drew's candour and freedom from censoriousnesg — His independence 
 of thought shown in a letter to Dr. Adam Clarke — His catholic spirit 
 exemplified in a public address, and in various letters — His pacific dis- 
 position.^ 
 
 After Mr. Drew had become known as an author, many of 
 the Wesleyan preachers, on their first appointment to St. Aus- 
 tell, fell very reluctant that he should hear their sermons. From 
 his works and his reputation, previously to personal acquaint- 
 ance, they dreaded him as a formidable critic. This was a fear 
 that presently subsided. Never was there a more candid 
 hearer, or one less prone to pass an unkind remark. If he 
 noticed any thing in the sermons of the young ministers which 
 he thought improper or erroneous, it was to themselves only 
 that he namecl it, and always in such a way as to win their 
 affection. While some of his young acquaintances would be 
 censuring, with undue freedom, a discourse which they had 
 heard, or discussing the respective merits and demerits of 
 preachers, he would smoke his pipe in silence, or interrupt the 
 regular succession of puffs by an occasional note of disappro- 
 bation. " How is it, Mr. Drew," asked one of the critics, 
 " that you never give us your opinion upon these matters ?" — 
 «' I will tell you," replied he. " In certain instances, when I 
 have said any thing of the kind, my remarks have been propa- 
 
266 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 gated, and not without embellishment. I find that my opinions 
 are quoted as indi.sputabie authority; and therefore, unless they 
 are altogether favourable, I refrain from expressing them. 
 They would only lend to prejudice tlie people, to pain the 
 preacher's mind, and mar his usefulness." — " But you would 
 not blame us, would you, sir, for giving our opinions ?" — " I 
 would have no one criticise a sermon till he has attempted to 
 preach one. After you have addressed a congregation, you 
 will better understand a preacher's sensations and difficulties. 
 And remember this, in all your criticisms, — the hand that can- 
 not build a hovel may demolish a palace.''^ 
 
 Although thus guarded against expressing an unfavourable 
 opinion of any individual, he felt no scruple in censuring un- 
 christian conduct, exposing unscriptural doctrine, or maintain- 
 ing what he believed to be the truth ; but it was always done 
 with reference to the maxim, " Think, and let think." A spirit 
 of intolerance he detested ; he lamented its frequent exhibition 
 among Methodists as well as others ; and he carried his aver- 
 sion to bigotry so far that some of the strait-laced brethren 
 were half-disposed to accuse him of latitudinarian principles. 
 " Nothing," said he, " grieves me so much, as to see professed 
 ministers of the gospel of peace, whose charity has been 
 smothered by their zeal, going about with the tomahawk and 
 scalping-knife, liberally or illiberally dealing out destruction 
 and perdition to all who differ from them. For my part, I 
 pray, 
 
 « Let not this weak, unknowing hand 
 
 Presume thy bolts to throw, 
 And deal damnation round the land 
 On each I judge thy foe.' " 
 
 In accordance with the sentiment just expressed is the fol- 
 lowing letter to Mr. James Grant, editor of the Elgin Courier, 
 then a contributor to the Imperial Magazine. It shows Mr. 
 D.'s style of editorial correspondence, and his enlarged views 
 of the Divine benignity. 
 
 " 38 Newgate-street, London, 
 " January 1st, 1827. 
 
 "DuAR Sir, 
 
 " t have not yet had time to re-examine your essay on the 
 ' Salvation of the Heathen,' but hope to do so in time for its 
 appearance after the ' Importance of Early Piety' is in print. 
 The first part is in our number for January, and the remainder 
 
HIS PERSONAL CHARACTER. 
 
 267 
 
 is intended for February. In looking over your letter in re- 
 ply to mine, it appears that you found your conclusion of the 
 final perdition of the heathen on your not being able to per- 
 ceive how their salvation is possible. If my view of your 
 statement be correct, you will permit me to hint, that your 
 conclusion is not legitimately borne out by your premises. 
 Your not being able to perceive how the heathen can be saved 
 is simply negative; but your conclusion — therefore they must 
 perish — is jmsitice. Now no negative premises can support 
 such a positive conclusion; and an attempt to force the infer- 
 ence is to make ignorance the basis of knowledge. Not being 
 able to perceive how they can be saved will warrant you in 
 withholding your assent to tlieir actual salvation, but this will 
 not furnish you with a fair ground for concluding that there- 
 fore they are lost. 
 
 " A small essay on the final condition of the heathen, written 
 by John Burder, M.A., price one shilling, has, within a few 
 days, fallen into my hands. In this pamphlet, the author, 
 though a rigid Calvinist, pauses ere he pulls the trigger of his 
 theological blunderbuss, charged with reprobation, and candidly 
 admits, that although he can find no ground for their salvation 
 from God as a lawgiver, a judge, or simply as a benevolent 
 being, yet there is some ground for hope that through the Di- 
 vine mercy some may be saved. 1 allow that the author 
 draws upon tlie Divine mercy as a miser draws upon his purse, 
 yet was rather surprised that his creed permitted him to exer- 
 cise such an extended charity. It is only through the influ- 
 ence of that 'true Light which ligiiteth every man that cometh 
 into the world,' that their salvation can at all be admitted on 
 Scriptural principles ; but this is suflScient for every purpose 
 to repel the severe conclusion that all must be inevitably lost, 
 or that the salvation of all, without exception, is impossible. 
 Happy for us, my friend, that God, and not the fabricators of 
 merciless creeds, is to be the judge of mankind ; for, whatever 
 our views may be, we know that the Judge of the whole earth 
 will do right. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 " With best wishes for your health and happiness in time, 
 and your felicity in eternity, 
 
 " I remain, dear sir, 
 
 " Yours most sincerely, 
 
 Samuel Drew." 
 
 In Mr. Drew's character, independence of thought and fear- 
 
268 
 
 LIFE OF SAMtJEL DREW. 
 
 lessness of expression are too conspicuous to require further 
 proof; yet the reader may be gratified by their exhibition in 
 the following letter of his to his friend Dr. Adam Clarke, on 
 returning a pamphlet which the doctor had sent for his perusal. 
 The title of the pamphlet is, " A Sermon, proving that Reason 
 is to be our guide in the choice of our Keligion, and that no- 
 thing ought to be admitted as an Article of Faith which is repug- 
 nant to the common principles of Reason, or is unintelligible to 
 human understanding. It bears date 1714. 
 
 " 15 Owcn's-row, January .5, 1831. 
 
 " My dear Doctor, 
 
 " I have perused the pamphlet you sent me with much inter- 
 est, and concur with you in opinion, that the sentiments which 
 it contains are strong, luminous, and masculine ; and that they 
 are supported by a chain of argumentation the links of which 
 no sophistry, however ingenious, can weaken. Dogmatism may 
 envelop them in clouds, and triumph in the obscurity which 
 pretended authority can raise ; but the fortifications are invul- 
 nerable, and will remain so against all the puny efforts with 
 which they may be assailed. 
 
 " It is really amusing to hear men assign reasons why rea- 
 son must not be used, and to argue that argument on given topics 
 must be laid aside. Where reason is forbidden to enter, we 
 are wholly without a guide : both the authority and interpre- 
 tation of Revelation must submit to this test, and be received 
 or rejected according to its decision. On these and other simi- 
 lar subjects the reasonings of the author of the pamphlet are 
 strong and conclusive : I regret that his name is not known. I 
 should mucii like to see it in print ; but its appearance would 
 raise the cry of heresy. 
 
 " I have sometimes thought that certain persons, whom I 
 need not name, indirectly insinuate that Reason is an enemy to 
 Revelation, and that either the former or the latter must be dis- 
 carded : this may do for the meridian of Italy ; but I hope I 
 shall never see the day when such a monstrous proposition 
 will unfurl its standard in England. We cannot, however, 
 deny that reason is an encumbrance to those who can do the 
 best without it ; and of these perhaps no contemptible number 
 might be mustered. It is pleasing to observe, in the perusal 
 of this sermon, how easily a few well-directed strokes can de- 
 molish a fabric which ignorance, prejudice, authority, and blind 
 submission have conspired to raise. 
 
ALLEGORICAL ADDRESS. 
 
 269 
 
 " Wishing yon every blessing for time and eternity, I re- 
 main, my dear friend, 
 
 '• Yours most sincerely, 
 
 " Samuel Drew." 
 
 Mr. Drew's expanded views of Christianity cannot have es- 
 caped observation. Some further illustrations, we hope, will 
 not be thought irrelevant or tedious. 
 
 In some large towns, as an antidote to bigotry, and a means 
 of fostering a liberal spirit, meetings for prayer are established, 
 at which persons of difierent religious persuasions join in the 
 common act of devotion. Many years since, Mr. Drew, when 
 on a visit to Plymouth, attended one of these " Union Prayer- 
 meetings," and, being known to some individuals present, was 
 requested to deliver an address. This he did extemporane- 
 ously, to the following purport : — 
 
 " When Truth, which was a native of the celestial regions, 
 became imbodied, and descended from heaven to visit the habi- 
 tations of men, it assumed the form of a beautiful cone. The 
 base of this cone rested on the earth, while its summit, rising 
 from an extensive plain, was lost in the clouds ; and on every 
 side it was illuminated with the rays of the Divine glory. The 
 nations of the earth, struck with a spectacle so magnificent and 
 splendid, gazed upon it with astonishment ; and, being enam- 
 oured with its symmetry and lovely appearance, the more thought- 
 ful and serious gathered round it from every quarter, by an 
 involuntary impulse. 
 
 " Amid this assembly, the Independents went on one side, 
 the Baptists on a second, the Quakers on a third, the Episcopa- 
 lians on a fourth, and the Methodists on a fifth ; while others 
 stood aloof in a state of indecision. 
 
 " Pleased with the magnificence Avhich operated on their 
 senses, they all remained in their respective positions, without 
 walking round the sacred figure to .survey the glories which 
 arose from the harmony of all its parts. In every view. Truth 
 has its beauties; but those svhich arise from a survey of detached 
 portions are less brilliant and diversified than those which re- 
 sult from a*comprehensive survey of the whole system. No 
 party, however, had views sufficiently expanded and compre- 
 hensive to embrace the excellences which resulted from the com- 
 bined effect of all ; and the melancholy disasters which followed 
 were the fatal consequences of this contracted observation. 
 Z 2 
 
270 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEi DREW. 
 
 " Unhappily, in this state the selfish passions began to oper- 
 ate ; and each party, willing to possess a prize that appeared 
 to be of inestimable value, seized with eagerness the portion of 
 Truth that was nearest, regardless of the injury resulting from 
 such selfish violence. In so large and diversified an assembly, it 
 is difhcult to say by which party the assault was made. But 
 be this as it may, the outrage which was begun by one clas» 
 was succeeded by that of a second, and continued by a third, 
 till the attachment to Truth degenerated into a fierce contention, 
 and finally involved the whole company in indiscriminate con- 
 fusion. 
 
 " In the conflict which took place at the foundation of thi» 
 cone, the injuries it received became conspicuous ; but this, in- 
 stead of causing the contending parties to desist from commit- 
 ting depredations which no human efforts could repair, only 
 stimulated them to renewed violence, until the cone of Truth 
 was rifted from its base to its summit, and divided into splinters. 
 
 " On beholding the fatal effects of their indiscretion, the par- 
 ties determined to preserve the portions that had fallen to their 
 lot ; and, instead of being overwhelmed with sorrow at their folly, 
 they bore in triumph to their respective friends such fragments 
 as they had been able to secure. The impulse of passion, 
 however, beginning to subside, was soon followed by reflection ; 
 and all perceived that the parts which had been obtained were 
 less beautiful than the cone appeared when entire. Deficiencies 
 were soon discovered, which nothing but the portions that had 
 been seized by others could supply. But since these could not 
 be procured, the more considerate hastened to employ their 
 most skilful workmen, who, having collected a quantity of un- 
 tempered mortar, and given it a colour resembling the original 
 cone, endeavoured to give completion to the fragments. 
 
 " The cone of Truth was now multiplied into many ; and 
 these exhibited, in their first appearance, such incongruities, 
 that several portions were twice or thrice repaired ; and so badly 
 executed were some, that in process of time they were aban- 
 doned by their warmest advocates. Among those that have 
 survived, several have undergone great alterations, so that the 
 mortar which was primitively supplied retains but little of its 
 original shape, consistence, or colour. In other instances, as 
 some features of peculiar excellence appeared on the parts of 
 the real cone which had been preserved, but which no art 
 could imitate, several have been compelled to resort to the dis- 
 honourable expedient of throwing over Truth itself a deceitful 
 varnish, that uniformity of colour might appear, even though it 
 should be purchased at the expense of integrity. 
 
ALLEGUKICAL ADDKK83. 
 
 271 
 
 " Since this melancholy disaster happened, the most cele- 
 brnted artists of every party have been employed in polishing, 
 in painting, in burnishing, and in giving new lustre to their 
 respective cones. But, notwithstanding this waste of time and 
 talent, many vacancies still appear in each, which no ingenuity 
 has hitherto been able to supply. Even the tints of colouring 
 are evidently of artificial origin ; and tlie more judicious of each 
 party seem to concur in opinion, that the imperfections of which 
 all are conscious, but which all have not the candour to avow, 
 ■will never be wholly removed, until the untempered mortar and 
 artificial varnish shall be totally destroyed. Could this desi- 
 rable object be accomplished, tliey seem fully convinced that 
 the protuberances of one part would exactly suit the excavations 
 in another ; and that, could every thing be replaced, the cone 
 would once more resume that beautiful appearance with which 
 all were at first captivated. 
 
 " Influenced by these enlarged and comprehensive views, a few 
 liberal spirits have endeavoured to effect this object ; but they 
 have found, on making inquiry among their friends and adhe- 
 rents, that the same selfish principles which originally destroyed 
 the cone are still at work ; and that multitudes contend, although 
 perfectly satisfied that they have not the whole, they possess a 
 much larger share than others, and that their private interests 
 forbid them to make the surrender which such a measure re- 
 quires. 
 
 " Unhappily, this is not the greatest difficulty to be encoun- 
 tered. When the untempered mortar was first mixed, so eager 
 was every one to give completion to his cone, that little or no 
 care was taken to avoid those finer panicles of dust which 
 floated in the atmosphere. These soon affected the organs of 
 vision; and the awful consequence is, that no individual has yet 
 been discovered blessed with sight sufficiently acute and pene- 
 trating to discern, on all occasions, where the parts of the real 
 cone terminate, and where the untempered mortar actually be- 
 gins. Many, by the assistance of glass<^s, have been able to 
 discover that some of the finer parts of the artificial composi- 
 tion are so intimately combined with the original material, that 
 jby attempting to remove them, an additional injury will be done 
 ■p the real cone, which may ultimately prevent a reunion of all 
 ■he parts. 
 
 " "Under all these circumstances, the opinion of the wise and 
 judicious seems to be, that although some considerable masses 
 may be entirely removed, and the different parts of the mutilated 
 cone be brought so near each other that all may perceive in 
 
372 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 what way they originally adhered together, yet no proper ce- 
 ment can be procured. It is also presumed, that hereafter the 
 parts of this cone will be taken by Almighty power from the 
 present scene; that they will be washed in the water of life; 
 that the parts will then be reunited in the plains of heaven, and 
 placed under the protection of angelic guards. And, finally, 
 that the wise, the virtuous, the pious, and the holy, of every 
 denomination, who have manifested a strong attachment to 
 Truth, will also be removed to the celestial regions, and placed 
 among the angelic throng. These, though differing from each 
 other in opinion here, will learn wisdom by what they have 
 suffered ; and, by a happy concurrence in their views, now more 
 comprehensive than they could possibly be in lii-ne, will take, 
 with pleasure, a survey of the heavenly spectacle in all its 
 parts ; and, overwhelmed with admiration at its harmonious 
 symmetry, will admire its varied beauties with renewed rapture 
 for ever." 
 
 Alluding, in a letter to one of his correspondents, to the anni- 
 versaries of the various religious and charitable institutions, 
 Mr. Drew remarks, " For this diffusion of benevolent feeling we 
 are indebted to Christianity. Under any other system we seek 
 in vain for such amiable features in the human character. It is 
 pleasing, on such occasions, to behold all sects and parties lay- 
 ing aside the colouring of their respective creeds, meeting on 
 ground where nothing but essentials will lake root, and extend- 
 ing to each other the hand of brotherly love. Before these 
 institutions were established, we saw each other only in cari- 
 cature, and were terrified at the creatures of our own imagina- 
 tions. But these anniversaries have stripped the scarecrow of 
 its frightful aspect ; and those whom we fancied to be monsters 
 we find to be men. Toleration generates faction, and uniformity 
 begets superstition. Hence, in England we have so many sects 
 and parlies, and in papal countries such a crop of ridiculous 
 absurdities. But no comparison can be made between them. 
 The former calls forth our mental energies, and directs us to 
 defend the frontiers of our creeds ; the latter paralyzes the 
 intellectual powers, and throws the soul into a state of torpor." 
 
 In 1824, Mr. Drew's eldest daughter was united in marriage 
 to a member of a Baptist church. Their design having been '-. 
 communicated to Mr. D., he observed in reply, October, 1823, 
 "When I first heard of your intentions, I had my fears that the 
 dissonance between your creeds might lend to disturb the 
 pleasing hum of domestic harmony ; but I am fully persuaded, 
 
HIS PERSONAL CHARACTER. 
 
 273 
 
 that where genuine piety predominates over theory, this will 
 not be the case. I have lived long enough to see the imper- 
 fections of all creeds and hypoiheses ; and, as I advance in 
 years, 1 find myself more and more receding from infallibility. 
 I have found qiiestions started by advocates on each side, 
 which their opponents can never satisfactorily answer: and, 
 quitting the dogmas of sect and party, I perceive stability in 
 nothing but fearing God, working righteousness, and relying 
 for salvation on the mercy of God, through our liOrd Jesus 
 Christ." 
 
 Two other letters of Mr. Drew's prior to the marriage still 
 further exhibit his candour, his liberality, and his religious 
 opinions. 
 
 "38 Newgate-street, London, 
 " Jan. 7th, 1824. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 •'By your brother I received your kind letter, and also the 
 curious specimens of antiquity with « hich it was accompanied. 
 There is something mournfully pleasing in looking back on 
 these distant periods of departed time. We seem to live in 
 ages which we never saw, to invert the order of nature, to 
 cause the Roman Cesars to pass in review before us, and even 
 to tread the margins of the apostolic age. For these coins be 
 pleased to receive my sincerest thanks. 
 
 " I am also much pleased with the candid avowal of your 
 theological sentiments. In the general statement I can most 
 heartily concur, though, perhaps, the phraseology of party 
 might induce us to call the same things by different names. I 
 am not about to analyze even a single expression ; and I hope, 
 that should future days bring us more immediately into contact, 
 you will never find me forward to demolish creeds, or attempt 
 to decide imperiously on points wliich the wisest and best of 
 men, during eighteen hundred years, have never been able 
 finally to settle. On one point I am glad to have your opinion ; 
 namely, a disavowal of Antinomianism both in theory and doc- 
 trine. I consider it as one of the most noxious weeds that ever 
 infested the Christian church. Even those who defend it are 
 fcashamed to reduce it to practice, except in solitary cases, and 
 
 these they are condemned as acting derogatory to the Chria- 
 kian character. 
 
 " There is a paradox among divines, that runs thus : — ' Faith 
 justifies without works, and yet fnith icithout works will not 
 justify.^ This exactly accords with my views. The worka 
 which accompany justifying faith enter not into our justification 
 
274 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 before God ; and yet that faith which has no connection with 
 works is not justifying, being destitute of the grand character- 
 istic by which it is distinguished from Antinornian creduHty, 
 and is known to be genuine. 
 
 " With best wishes for your future happiness and prosperity, 
 both in time and eternity, 
 
 " I remain, dear sir, 
 
 " Yours most sincerely, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Mr. John Read, Hchton." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 "38 Newgate-street, London, 
 " May 29, 1824. 
 
 "My dear SfK, 
 
 " I was sorry to learn from your brother, and also from your 
 letter, that you were unwell ; but I hoped this affliction had 
 been removed, until a letter from Anna informed me, about a 
 fortnight since, that your health was by no means re-established. 
 We know that, when sanctified, afflictive visitations are bless- 
 ings in disguise ; and we learn from them many instructive 
 lessons which prosperity can never teach. This advantage I 
 hope will be yours, and then the pain and anxiety which you 
 have felt will be abundantly compensated. 
 
 " To the general outline of your theological creed I can 
 most certainly subscribe, though, perhaps, in some explanations 
 our views might differ, iiut I can assure you that 1 view par- 
 ticular creeds in a less important light than I once did ; and I 
 perceive, as I advance in age, my notions of their infalli- 
 bility become every day more shaken. The sacred pages 
 contain the plan of salvation. Jesus is the only way to the 
 Father. The Holy Spirit is the mighty agent through which 
 alone the soul is transformed. From His influence every 
 good thought, and word, and work proceeds ; and faith in the 
 merits of tiie Saviour can be no longer genuine than while it 
 leads to practical godliness. These and a few other particu- 
 lars constitute the essentials of my creed ; and subordinatej 
 branches I give to the men who J 
 
 ' to the fierce contention bring ^ 
 
 Innumerable force of spirits armed.' 
 
 "Tt certainly would have been desirable, if you and my dear 
 Anna had been taught from your infancy to pronounce your 
 
HIS PERSONAL CHARACTER. 
 
 273 
 
 Shibboleth with the same accent ; but this has not been the 
 case, and every one knows that habits long cherished cannot 
 be exchanged for others without some mental conflict. I hope 
 that the punctilios of local views will never break the bond of 
 domestic happiness between you. While the love of God oc- 
 cupies the heart, and practical godliness reigns in the life, there 
 will be little room for contention, and less disposition to view 
 non-essentials through a maguifying-glass. 1 am inclined to 
 think that there is not a point on which Independents, Baptists, 
 and Methodists difler, which the dispassionate of all parties 
 will not reduce to the class of non-essentials ; and on all these 
 we should do well to take the good old patriarchal advice — 
 'See that ye fall not out by the way.' Those who have more 
 religion in their heads than in their hearts are generally ready 
 to brandish the polemical weapons ; and, when successful, they 
 rejoice more at conquest than at the thought of having advanced 
 the cause of truth. In London I find that there is far more in- 
 tercourse between the different sects than in the country. In 
 the former, though the partition-wall is not demolished, it is so 
 reduced that men on eacli side can shake hands with one an- 
 other ; while in the latter, the Jews have still scarcely any deal- 
 ings with the Samaritans. Be it your and my care, my dear 
 friend, to ' work out our salvation with fear and trembling,' 
 while we acknowledge that ' it is God who worketh in us to 
 will and to do of his own good pleasure.' Hoping that this 
 will find you restored to your accustomed health and spirits, 
 " I remain, my dear sir, 
 
 " Yours most sincerely, 
 
 " Samfel Drew." 
 
 Constituted as society is, " it is impossible but that ofTences 
 will come ;" and Mr Drew, notwithstanding his pacific temper, 
 had not learned to " wear armour over his feelings." But, 
 whatever apparent incivilities he at any time experienced, he 
 never charged upon a community the offensive deportment of 
 
 I individuals. When the Wesleyan Book Committee refused to 
 bell the Imperial Magazine, though he felt their want of cour- 
 Ksy to himself as editor, he felt much more lest Methodism 
 nould be identified with a measure which lie esteemed illiberal 
 ■id injudicious. If the admission of any article into his pages 
 were deemed a proof either of his hostility to the Conference, 
 or of his becoming the instrument of a party, the two letters 
 which follow will show how hasty was the conclusion. 
 
S76 
 
 LIVK OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 " 38 Newgate-street, London, 
 "Aug. 16, 1831. 
 
 " My good Sir, 
 
 " When your letter reached London, I was in Cornwall, 
 from which place I did not return until within a few days past; 
 and since that time I have been busily employed in arranging 
 •what had become disordered, and answering letters accumulated 
 during my absence. 
 
 ***** 
 
 '^I have not, I can assure you, been an indifferent spectator 
 of the late commotions in tlie Methodist community ; and I sin- 
 cerely regret that power should ever usurp the dominion of 
 right. In my official situation, however, I have never borne 
 any active part in the controversy, nor admitted any of the 
 belligerents to figure in our pages. Should the door be once 
 opened to either party, to shut it would be next to impossible ; 
 and our pages would be filled with polemics, in which, perhaps, 
 eight out of ten among all our readers would feel less interest 
 than disgust. 
 
 "I can most sincerely assure you that this consideration, 
 my advancing age, and with it a desire to live in peace with 
 all, form the only embargo laid upon me. I have endeavoured, 
 in my official capacity as editor, to keep up a kind of armed 
 neutrality, and, by so doing, have exposed myself to suspicions 
 from each party. With the ecclesiastical tory I am viewed as 
 a radical, and with the ecclesiastical whigs as a tory in dis- 
 guise. I find, however, that I have enough to do to attend to 
 my own concerns, and walk peaceably ' along the cool, 
 sequestered vale of life.' 
 
 " The ' Circular' to which you allude I do not recollect ever 
 to have seen ; and of the books, pro and con, I scarcely ever 
 catch a glimpse. I am therefore totally ignorant of the war- 
 fare still carried on, unless by accident I meet with a partisan, 
 and then I find his statement generally tinctured with the prin- 
 ciples he had embraced. I have occasionally heard, in com- 
 pany, the word radical contemptuously applied, and have as 
 invariably noticed, that reproachful epithets are not arguments, 
 and that the charge of despotism will be the language of re-j 
 taliation. 1 
 
 " Wishing you every blessing for time and eternity, 1 
 "I remain, my kind sir, 1 
 " Yours most respectfully and sincerely, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Mr. Thomas Garnett, Leeds." 
 
HIS PERSONAL CHARACTER. 
 
 277 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 "38 Newgate-street, London, 
 "Dec. 7, 1831. 
 
 My good Sir, 
 
 " I really was not aware that you expected from me a writ- 
 ten reply to your letter, until your renewed inquiries gave me 
 the information. I am so much in the habit of answering in- 
 quiries in ' replies to correspondents,' that I sometimes half 
 forget other modes of communication. In our last number I 
 had given a reply to you ; but, as the inquiries are again re- 
 newed, I will endeavour briefly to answer all. 
 
 " The advertisement of the ' Circular' we shall not hesitate 
 to insert as such ; but in the polemic contention we shall bear 
 no part. To an armed neutrality prudence directs me rigor- 
 ously to adhere. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " ' Are Unitarians Christians ?' Who shall decide when 
 doctors disagree? To their own master they stand or fall. 
 Much will depend upon the definition of the term ' Christians.' 
 To questions of this kind there is scarcely any end. We may 
 ask, ' Are heretics, schismatics, <fec. Christians ?' If we put 
 one sect to decide upon the destiny of others, but few will be 
 permitted to enter heaven. For hatchet-men this will furnish 
 ample employment. 
 
 ' One thinks on Calvin Heaven's own Spirit fell ; 
 Another deems him instrument of hell.' 
 
 "Every person who has noticed passing events with atten- 
 tion must have observed, that red-hot Arminians anathematize 
 Calvinists, and the fiery zealots of Calvinism in their turn con- 
 sign Arminians to perdition ! I do most sincerely assure you 
 that I will not become a tool in the hands of either party. I 
 , would do any thing in my power to promote peace ; but, if war 
 I has determined them, they will be easily able to bring auxilia- 
 ^ ties into the field ; and when they have tired themselves with 
 ■ worrying each other, they will be just where they began. 
 
 " Wishing the contending parties more of the Christian 
 ^npirit than controversies in general display, and you every 
 ^^■lessing for time and eternity, 
 
 " I remain, with much respect, 
 
 " Yours most sincerely, 
 Y "Samuel Dkevt. 
 
 r " Mr. Thomas Garnett, Leeds." 
 
 Aa 
 
378 
 
 LIFB OP SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 SECTION XXIX. 
 
 Miscellaneous traits of character — Conversational talent*. 
 
 The lines of the human countenance admit of endless va- 
 riety. We may enumerate those settled features which are 
 common to the species, — we may describe the shape of a nose, 
 the colour of an eye, the dimensions of a mouth, the hollow- 
 ness or prominence of a cheek ; but that which gives expres- 
 sion to the whole, and without which we sketch but a formal 
 and rigid outline, bids defiance to our powers of arrangement 
 and description. This, which is true of the countenance, is 
 equally applicable to the character. The touches which give 
 individuality to a portrait cannot be placed in categorical order. 
 To delineate perfectly, it is not enough to give the prominent 
 characteristics, — the biographer must " catch the manners living 
 as they rise," and transfer them to his pages. In Mr. Drew's 
 mental constitution there were some peculiarities which it would 
 be difficult to classify, and we therefore present them without 
 studied arrangement. 
 
 It has been already observed, that he was a great lover of 
 order, and extremely sensitive of little deviations from it. When 
 questioned as to the cause of his punctiliousness in matters 
 of small moment, his reply was, " The sum of life is com- 
 posed of trifles." The general tone of his mind was cheerful- 
 ness and equanimity ; yet there were seasons when he felt a 
 depression of spirits, and yielded to gloomy forebodings. Such 
 periods, however, were of short duration. His natural vigour 
 and elasticity of thought quickly restored the equilibrium. 
 
 Lofty characters are not without their foibles ; and it is some- 
 times both amusing and instructive to notice the antipath' 
 and partialities of individuals. We have seen a man shudder 
 at the sight of a mouse, whose heart would have beat with th 
 ardour of contest at the approach of an enemy ; and we ha 
 heard a female shriek at the unexpected intrusion of a spid 
 who has sat unmoved in the perils of a tempest. Of the s 
 pent tribe Mr. Drew liad an instinctive abhorrence. A stuffe 
 specimen in a museum he could not look upon without very 
 uncomfortable feelings ; and from a living sijake or viper that 
 
HIS rKKSONAX CHARACTER. 
 
 279 
 
 rustled in a hedge he has been seen to run with the utmost pre- 
 cipitation. The writer remembers with what an expression of 
 horror his father ordered him to take instantly from his sight 
 some living vipers which he, when a youth, had caught, and 
 brought home in triumph. Yet a toad, which is more com- 
 monly an object of repugnance, he would take in his hand, with- 
 out scruple, to admire its brilliant eye ; and the whole genus 
 enjoyed his favour and protection. 
 
 There are few sensitive minds, however fortified by faith and 
 hope, that do not shudder when they dwell upon the pain of 
 dying and the process of dissolution. Mr. Drew was far from 
 affecting an apathy which he did not feel ; and his expressions, 
 when alluding to death and the grave, are proofs, not of mental 
 weakness, or a want of Christian fortitude, but of his partici- 
 pating largely in the sympathies and sensations of our common 
 nature. Not unfrequently did he say, " Whatever stoicism 
 others may pretend or experience, I feel the lying in the cold 
 grave, uiilieeded and unknown, to be a thing from which my 
 nature revolts. It is only religion that can enable me to face it, 
 and even then I do it with trembling, and look with awe and 
 dread upon 
 
 ' That gulf, from which no mortal e'er repassed, 
 To tell what's doing on the other side.' " 
 
 When filled with the inspiring anticipations of future bless- 
 edness, we may overlook the gloomy valley through which we 
 must pass to its enjoyment ; yet, when we dwell upon the 
 scenes of the sick-cliamber — the tears of kindred — the sorrow- 
 ful farewell — the sinking and perhaps agonized frame, — and 
 then, in imagination, view the mournful ceremony of inhuming 
 the body, and the progress of its subsequent corruption, — we 
 cannot repress our instinctive feelings of repugnance. With 
 difficulty can we conceive that this wondrous structure, in which 
 life's vigorous pulses plaj', will become utterly insensible : 
 we sympathize, in anticipation, with our lifeless remains, and 
 invest ihem with a portion of our present uncomfortable sensa- 
 tions. Thus, in a sense which perhaps Gray did not contem- 
 plate, 
 
 " Even from the tomb the voice of nature cries, 
 Even in our ashes live their wonted fires !" 
 
 The force of local attachment felt by Mr. Drew has been 
 
280 
 
 LITE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 variously exemplified. Perhaps it never appeared truer to na- 
 ture than when he passed tliose spots which were the haunts 
 of his infancy and boyhood. " Here," he would say, " is the 
 house where I was born, and the stream in which I used to 
 dabble because 1 did not like dry feet — there the stamping-mill 
 and biuldle-pits where I once worked — there the trees which 
 I was foremost to climb, — and here" (scrutinizing and pointing 
 out all llie changes which time and the hand of improvement 
 had efiectcd) " here, after the day's work was ended, I and my 
 companions would regularly, on summer and moonlight even- 
 ings, assemble to play." On one of his visits to Cornwall, 
 when the tide of early recollections, which had been long pent 
 up, rushed upon him anew, he spent a cronsiderable lime in 
 searching among the woods at Tregrehan for the tree on which, 
 when a boy, he had carved the rude initials of his name. Lit- 
 tle, indeed, is he to be envied whose bosom does not glow, and 
 whose pulse does not quicken, when, after years of absence, he 
 revisits the scenes of his infancy and his youth. 
 
 " Dear is that spot to which the soul conforms. 
 And dear those hills that lift us to the storms." 
 
 In conversation with a gentleman a few weeks before his final 
 removal from London, Mr. Drew's partiality to the county 
 which, gave him birth was distinctly marked. " You may," 
 said he, " call it prejudice, or call it what you please — that 
 will not alter the feeling, — but I have made up my mind to re- 
 turn to Cornwall to spend the evening of my days, and lay my 
 bones in my native soil. Here you will perceive that judgment 
 and feeling are at variance ; for when we come to examine and 
 consider the subject, dear me, it is no matter where this body 
 should be buried, or what should become of it — 
 
 ' If these remains in ocean's depths were lost, 
 Or warring winds the vagrant atoms tossed.' 
 
 Still, I feel so great an attachment to the place of my birth, and 
 so great a desire to mingle my ashes with those of my kindred, 
 — for my father, my mother, my brother, my child, and my dear 
 wife lie there, — that if I thought, by staying in London, I should 
 die and be buried here, I would not remain twenty-four hours 
 longer — no, that I would not." 
 
 With local attachments personal recollections were mtimately 
 associated ; and, when recounting his ciiildish exploits, the un- 
 bidden tear would sometimes start at the remembrance of play- 
 
HIS PERSONAL CHARACTER. 
 
 281 
 
 mates long since dead. Lamenting one day the levelling of 
 the graves and removing of liic tombstones in the cliurchyard 
 of St. Austell, he said, " They have taken away poor Pascoe's 
 stone too. It used to stand near the eastern gate, and I could 
 never pass it without pausing to gaze upon that sole memorial 
 of my earliest friend." 
 
 Though not the same feeling, yet it was the same kindly 
 temperament which gave him such pleasure in the society of 
 his children, and made him delight in ministering to their grati- 
 fication. Christmas-eve was a season of peculiar enjoyment, 
 when he could amuse and instruct the little folks with his tales, 
 and cast his eye around the semicircle of smiling faces. On 
 that night, even the youngest was expected to be present, to 
 complete the happy domestic group. In nutting expeditions, 
 aquatic excursions, and picknick parties, he was always ready 
 to join, wlien time would permit, nor did age at all diminish his 
 relish for such natural pleasures. During his visit to Corn- 
 wall, in 1831, he joined his children and grandchildren on two 
 or three such occasions, and entered, with youthful glee, into 
 liieir subjects of merriment. 
 
 With a disposition thus eminently social, it will scarcely be 
 credited that he had no ear for music, unless it were the music 
 of the groves. By him the sublimest composition and the most 
 delicate execution would have been little appreciated or felt. 
 Rural sounds gratified him, rather from their associations than 
 from any perception of harmony ; for the carol of the lark and 
 the clamour of a rookery were to him equally delightful. Yet, 
 however deficient in auricular discrimination, with the utmost 
 truth and propriety he might have said, 
 
 " But cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime 
 In still repeating circles, screaming loud. 
 The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding owl 
 That hails the rising moon, have charms for me:" 
 
 for his soul was attuned to the sublime rather than the beauti- 
 ful ; and above every other his favourite music was 
 
 " The dash of ocean on its winding shores." 
 
 About two years since, a lady asked Mr. Drew whether he 
 thought it wrong for a person who felt very great pleasure in 
 good music, to go to such a place as the theatre, to hear Paga- 
 A a 2 
 
282 
 
 LIFE OF SAHVfL DREW. 
 
 nini play the violin. " I am the worst person in the world ol 
 whom you should ask such a question," replied he; "for I take 
 no pleasure in music, and feel no gratificaiion in the best per- 
 formances. As to myself, I would not step across the room 
 to hear Paganini, or all the ninnies in the world. I would 
 keep to the good old maxim, 'Touch not, taste not, handle not.' 
 I would rather a person would not go lo the theatre at all." — 
 "But suppose a person were to be in London, who felt exces- 
 sively delighted witli good music, on the violin especially, and 
 was so circumstanced that he could hear Paganini at no other 
 place than the theatre during his stay ; sliould you object to his 
 gratifying his taste in a theatre ?" — " Under such circumstances 
 I might say, with a less fallible moralist, ' Neitlier do I condemn 
 thee.' " — " Perhaps you would say also, ' Go, and sin no 
 more.' " — " I left that for you to infer," was the reply. 
 
 Although thus usually indiflerenl to harmonious sounds, yet 
 the piece named Denmark, appropriated to Dr. Walts's beauti- 
 ful paraphrase of the hundredth Psalm, and a tune composed 
 by one of his family for the no less beautiful hymn of Dr. 
 Watts, 
 
 " There is a land of pure delight," &c., 
 
 and, in compliment to Mr. Drew, bearing the name of his native 
 town, pleased him so much that he would frequently request 
 his youngest daughter and son-in-law to sing them to him, and 
 would even attempt some notes in concert. But it is probable 
 that the gratificaiion arose quite as much from the poetry as 
 the music. 
 
 Some professors of craniology once asked permission to ex- 
 amine his head, and he very readily submitted to their inspec- 
 tion. Having completed their examination, one of them said, 
 " You are very fond of music, Mr. Drew, and have a good 
 taste for it too !" For some time he offered no contradiction, 
 amusing himself at observations so wide of the mark. At 
 length he replied, " Gentlemen, you are quite in error. I have 
 neither taste nor relish for music ; and am so ignorant of it, as 
 a science, that I can scarcely distinguish one tune from an- 
 other." Unwilling to be thus completely at fault, they ventured 
 another guess, which was much nearer the truth. "If it be 
 not music, it must be poetry, sir, to which you are so partial." 
 To this he signified his assent. If he wanted an car for music, 
 he had music in his smtl. His conceptions were poetical, and 
 his language, even on ordinary occasions, highly figuratire- 
 
CONVERSATIONAL TALENTS, 
 
 283 
 
 He was a great admirer, too, of poetical composition, and, 
 thougli it was otherwise predicted from his incipient attempts, 
 he would possibly, in this department of literature, had it en- 
 gaged his attention, have risen above mediocrity. 
 
 In his latter years, when not inclined to take the trouble of 
 comniiiling to memory pieces of poetry that struck his fancy, 
 he used to give them to his youngest daughter to learn, that she 
 might repeat them to him in the evenings. This he did more 
 especially after the death of his wife ; and it appeared to him 
 a consolation, in the absence of the companion of his life, to 
 listen to the accents of her representative, as she recited to 
 him the chosen pieces of his favourite poets. Although he had 
 enriched his memory with some of the more sublime passages 
 of Milton, yet Pope, Young, and Cowper chiefly furnished him 
 with the quotations which he delighted to use ; and their lines 
 would frequently increase the poignancy of his satire when he 
 lashed the follies of mankind, give an additional grace to the 
 cheerful sallies of his wit, enable him to turn a compliment 
 with delicacy, or add a beauty and a charm to the natural 
 elegance and power of his language. 
 
 Familiarly acquainted with the ordinary topics of literary 
 and philosophical discussion, possessing much native humour, 
 a remarkable facility of illustration, and a memory stored with 
 anecdote, upon which he could draw at pleasure without the 
 hazard of insolvency, it is not surprising that Mr. Drew's so- 
 ciety was much courted, and that he was often tlie life of a social 
 party. In his conversational remarks, profound thought, high 
 moral feeling, and playful fancy were agreeably blended. A 
 gentleman who knew him in the early period of his authorship 
 says, " In company with Mr. Drew, we juniors would some- 
 limes get bewildered in a cloudy discussion, to which he seemed 
 a mere idle listener. When we could make no further progress, 
 he, by asking one of the contending parties a question, or 
 making a brief remark, would either set us right, or ohow us 
 liie absurdity of our arguments. And this was done without 
 any apparent effort of thought ; for he seemed to look through 
 the matter intuitively from beginning to end." 
 
 A mixed company is rarely attracted by such subjects as Mr. 
 Drew was most accustomed to discuss ; yet there are few more 
 pointed instances of a speaker's power to fix the attention than 
 
284 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 one related by the Rev. Dr. Townley, and confirmed by another 
 gentleman of the party. 
 
 " Mr. Drew having visited a town where I was, to plead the 
 cause of a charitable institution, we were invited, with several 
 other friends, to dine at a gentleman's house. While seated at 
 dinner, I asked Mr. Drew why his metaphysical writings were 
 more perspicuous and satisfactory than those of other meta- 
 physicians. ' I cannot tell,' he replied, ' unless it be that I 
 iiave not attempted to establish my propositions by unsuitable 
 or unquestionable evidence, or demanded for my pr6ofs a higher 
 degree of credit than they are worth.' Then, in the most 
 pleasing and luminous manner, without the least afl'ectalion of 
 superiority, he described tlie various kinds of evidence of 
 which subjects are susceptible — commencing with possibility, 
 and passing liirough the successive gradations of proof to 
 mathematical demonstration. So happily was this most un- 
 promising topic illustrated and explained, and such was the su- 
 periority of 7nind over matter, that before the speaker had 
 uttered many words, knives and forks were involuntarily laid 
 down, and though the remarks occupied about a quarter of an 
 hour, no one thought of resuming them until Mr. D. had thus 
 fully answered tiie question which 1 had proposed." He who 
 could thus cause a large company to forget the demands of ap- 
 petite must have possessed more than ordinary powers of con- 
 versation. 
 
 Mr. Drew never misapplied his strength of intellect by 
 contending for victory rather than truth, or endeavouring to 
 " make the worse appear the better reason." To puzzle an op- 
 ponent he exceedingly disliked. 'J'here was a straight-for- 
 wardness, not only in his general conduct, but even in his man- 
 ner of arguing, that would brook nothing like an attempt to 
 conceal the truth ; and it was sometimes amusing to observe 
 how readily he would detect an antagonist's false principles, 
 however specious in their showing, or carefully kept in the back- 
 ground. "He reasoned," observes a gentleman who was fre- 
 quently in his company, "not only convincingly but on the 
 right side. On any side he would have been a formidable ad- 
 versary ; no wonder, therefore, that in the cause of truth he 
 was invincible." 
 
 There is another trait in his character which ought not to be 
 overlooked. In no single instance, that we are aware of, did 
 he, in colloquial discussion, betray an undue warmth of temper 
 
CONVERSATIONAL TALENTS. 
 
 285 
 
 — not even when the doctrines which he had publicly advocated 
 were most unceremoniously assailed. It was his frequent re- 
 mark, that the weak parts of a creed are generally guarded by 
 anathemas. Rarely could he be accused of substituting asser- 
 tion for argument, or vehemence for illustration. 
 
 Let it not be supposed, that because Mr. Drew shone as a 
 metaphysician, metaphysics were always the burden of his 
 friendly conversations. " Such," remarks the gentleman whose 
 words we have just quoted, and who speaks from personal ob- 
 servation, — "such was not Mr. Drew. Desirous of suiting his 
 conversation to the capacities and circumstances of those into 
 whose company ho was thrown, an obliging freeness of com- 
 munication rendered him at once the delight and oracle of the 
 social circle.* He evinced an agreeable facility in seizing on 
 the passing topic, on which he was sure either to cast additional 
 light, or give the current of observation some new and interest- 
 ing turn. Anxious to hear him talk, company sometimes un- 
 fairly pressed for his opinions. On this account, his hours of 
 cessation from professional labour were not always those of re- 
 laxation." 
 
 Though delighted to mix with those individuals from whose 
 stores of knowledge he might enrich his own, yet he did not 
 like, wiien desirous of unbending his mind in the society of 
 friends, to be baited and worried, as he sometimes was, by par- 
 adoxes and perplexing questions. This was a tax upon his 
 good-nature which, thougfi rarely evaded, was paid rather from 
 courtesy than choice. He was best pleased to follow the or- 
 dinary course of useful conversation, and occasionally throw 
 in some of his own happy touches and illustrations. Some- 
 times, indeed, he would spontaneously take up, as a text, some 
 expression which had been casually dropped, — dilate upon it — 
 view it in its various bearings — pursue it to its remote conse- 
 (juences — and unconsciously gratify and engage the attention 
 of his friends by continuous remarks (if half an hour's dura- 
 tion. A gentleman recently informed the writer, that he was 
 witness to an instance, about the year 1804, in which some one 
 having, hi Mr. Drew's company, accidentally struck a chord to 
 
 ♦ The Bard of Sheffield, at the close of a letter to Mr. Drew in 1825, 
 writes, " Permit me to add, that I recollect, with great pleasure, a brief 
 interview with you at Liverpool, some years ago, at Mr. Byrom's. You 
 may, perhaps, not have forgotten it. Ever since I have felt myself to be 
 nly your friend, 
 
 "Jambs Montgomskt." 
 
286 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 which his inmost soul vibrated, he entered at once upon the 
 subject — a completely abstract one — and delivered his thoughts 
 on it for two successive hours, with scarcely any interruption 
 or intermission. Still he greatly disliked being dragged into a 
 discussion ; and when this was attempted by individuals with 
 whom he could, without incivility, use the freedom, he would 
 remark, " 1 do not want to be set at work, but to enjoy a holy- 
 day." To the members of his family he has said, " I have often 
 refused an invitation, where I had reason to believe I should be 
 looked upon as the lion of the company, and expected to ex- 
 hibit for their gratification." 
 
 The following letters will perhaps be accepted as a further 
 illustration of Mr. Drew's personal character, and a fitting 
 termination of tliis imperfect sketch. 
 
 " St. Austell, July 29th, 1809. 
 
 Mv DEAR Friend, 
 
 " How is it that your letters are all tinctured with an air of 
 melancholy and sadness ? I perceived it in the first letter you 
 sent me — questioned you upon it when I saw you — and now 
 find it again renewed, without being able in either stage to 
 discover the cause. To cherish this propensity, you well 
 know, is not the way to be a true disciple of Zeno. No doubt 
 the ills of life have occasionally strewed your path with thorns ; 
 but, when you contrast them with the blessings 5'ou enjoy, you 
 must acknowledge that you have more occasion for gratitude 
 than complaint. Remember that none but children will fall 
 over straws. Every person is called to struggle with adver- 
 sity : it is a condition of our existence ; and if all were to 
 measure their portion by what you sufl'er, it would require a 
 large asylum to hold the alHicted. I am not, however, friendly 
 to inconsiderate levity ; it dissipates the mind, and renders it 
 as unfit for sober thouglit as gloom does for social converse. 
 There is a happy medium between these two extremes, which 
 fits us fur every department, and ennobles human nature. 
 
 " I am really pleased with your description of tlie poor old 
 man, 
 
 ' Whose trembling limbs had borne him to your door,' I 
 
 and with those fine and varied feelings to which his venerable 
 appearance gave rise. Your notices are minute, your details 
 ample, and the features well discrinainated. Yet in all me- 
 ihought I saw 
 
CHARACTERISTIC LETTERS. 
 
 287 
 
 ' The poet's eye in a fine phrensy rolling.' 
 
 You have learned, I perceive, to enhance your charities by the 
 manner in which you bestow them. 
 
 " You really made me smile when I perused that part of 
 your letter which related to myself. I should like to have 
 heard you proposing questions, and making inquiries, which 
 none in company could answer so well as yourself. As to the 
 little tale which your sister has heard of a gentleman calling 
 on me for a book which he had previously seen, but thought I 
 did not understand, it is all fabulous — no such thing ever 
 e.xisted. My life has furnished but little variety. That part 
 which relates to my literary acquirements, you may see in the 
 introduction to my new Essay on the ' Resurrection,' and in 
 the ' Weekly Entertainer' about three or four weeks since. 
 In this latter it was copied from Mr. Polwiiele's History of 
 Cornwall. It is a letter which I wrote to Mr. Polwhele, in 
 consequence of his request to furnish him with some memoirs 
 of my life. But he, instead of working on the materials I sent 
 him, gave a literal copy of my letter to the world. 
 
 " As to politics, I am sure we shall not differ. I was once 
 severely tossed on that unfathomable sea, but have been on 
 shore for many years. On those heroes whose names fill the 
 world with their renown, I lately expressed my opinion in the 
 following lines : — 
 
 ' What are those men, whose names create such dread 
 Napoleon living, or a Casar dead ? 
 One for his crimes was from the senate hurl'd, 
 One still survives — the terror of the world. 
 What are the deeds from v^rhich they gather fame ? 
 Plain, wilful murder, with another name. 
 And such as shino in honour's foremost place 
 Are licensed butchers of the human race.' 
 
 To these sentiments permit me to add another, in the words 
 of Cowper : — 
 
 ' 0 for a lodge in some vast wilderness, 
 Some boundless contiguity of shade, 
 Where rumour of oppression and deceit, 
 Of unsuccessful or successful war. 
 Might never reach me more !' 
 
 " When I began this letter, it was my intention to pursue those 
 reflections which you started on the various dispensations of 
 Providence in the motley appearances of human life ; but ray 
 
288 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 paper was full before I was aware. This I may renew in a 
 future letter. I shall be glad to hear from you as soon as yon 
 have opportunity ; and beg, if any difficulty occurs to your 
 mind which you think I am able to remove, that you will com- 
 municate it without reserve, and with all the readiness that 
 freedom and confidence can inspire. 
 
 " You plainly perceive that I cannot write much more. I 
 have only room to wish you every blessing for time and eter- 
 nity, and to assure you that I am your sincere friend, and 
 shall be ever ready to render you all the service in my 
 power. 
 
 " Samtjel Drew. 
 
 " Miss Hookc^ Wemhury, Pli/moiith." 
 
 " 38 Newgate-street, London, 
 Dec. 30, 1824. 
 
 "My dear John and Anna, 
 
 " Having nothing to communicate to one which I wish to 
 conceal from the other, 1 address you both on the same sheet, 
 not having time to write to each separately. 
 
 " We have received the old coins, for which 1 feel much 
 
 obliged. I will take care that Dr. C shall not rob me of 
 
 these. I find they are troublesome things to have. Without 
 showing them they lose half their value : if presented lo a 
 person that has no taste for antiquities of this kind, they excite 
 no interest ; and if shown to one whom they please, they are 
 taken from you either by the force or the legerdemain of friend- 
 ship. 
 
 " Mr. M. has given us a very flattering account of your 
 domestic procedure. He seems to think that neither you, nor 
 Samuel and rib, have thus far forfeited a fair title to the 'flitch 
 of bacon.' Should either of you win it, the event must be 
 added to the only two circumstances on record in which it was 
 actually claimed and carried oflf. In one instance, a sea cap- 
 tain and his wife succeeded — he being compelled to go to sea 
 the day after marriage, and not returning until its anniversary 
 arrived ; the other was where the lady was, I believe, both 
 deaf and dumb, and the gentleman remarkably good-humoured. 
 In too many instances domestic feuds arise from trifles. Anna 
 will recollect the tale I have frequently told of the man and 
 his wife quarrelling about the flock of birds which flew over 
 their house — whether they were crows or roolcs. The knotty 
 point led to blows three years following, and they at last left 
 the affair undecided. 
 
CHARACTERISTIC LETTERS. 
 
 289 
 
 " Be kind, affectionate, and tender-hearted towards each 
 other; not putting on sullen countenances, or laying the found- 
 ation of sighs. My dear Anna will remember, that some 
 months since I told her, no female ought to be married until 
 she had learned a piece entitled ' Pin the Basket;' and she 
 has frequently heard me repeat these lines : — 
 
 ' 111 fares that luckless family -which shows 
 A cock that's silent, and a hen that crows.' 
 
 Whenever contentions for mastery creep into a house, genuine 
 affection abates in its fervour, and domestic peace retires. I 
 trust that, both in temporal engagements and spiritual con- 
 cerns, you will mutually help each other on, and by sharing 
 its weight diminish the load which life will compel you to bear. 
 Remember that, in the affairs of this life, we are justified by 
 works, and not by faith ; so that industry, frugality, and ecou- 
 omy are all necessary to render even trade successful. 
 
 " I would advise you to keep as little company as possible ; 
 at least all such company as would lead to expensive enter- 
 tainments. The festivity of one day will supply a moderate 
 family for a week. If you open the door to an enlargement 
 of company, it may lead to unseasonable hours, generate habits 
 of dissipation, and sometimes furnish occasions of regret. I 
 would not inculcate an unsociable disposition ; but guard 
 against any thing that looks like avoidable expense. Two 
 horses travelling side by side mutually stimulate each other, 
 so that both go faster than either would if travelling alone. 
 A similar propensity may be found in human nature. The 
 ftntertainment made by A must be rivalled by B, exceeded by 
 C, and surpassed by D ; and thus, in a spiral line, we mount 
 on the steps of ambitious display, till at length we get so high 
 that we grow giddy, fall down, and are ruined. 
 
 " Sublunary bliss, however, is, at the best, a sickly plant, 
 and no care or culture can give it permanence, or preserve it 
 from the effect of storms. That only is durable wiiich blooms 
 in the regions of immortality, where it will flourish in peren- 
 nial verdure. Let us then, my dear children, look for it there, 
 and lay up for ourselves ' treasures, where neither moth nor 
 rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break not through nor 
 steal.' 
 
 " Before this letter reaches you, we shall, if spared, have 
 entered on a new portion of existence. 1824 will have given 
 in its account at the great tribunal, and have sunk into the 
 ocean of eternity. Let us endeavour so to live through 1825, 
 B b 
 
290 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 that, if permitted to see its close, we may look back with less 
 regret than we must now on its predecessor. With best 
 wishes for your happiness, I remain, dear children, 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 " Samuel Drew, 
 
 " Mrs. John Read, Helston." 
 
 " 38 Newgate-street, London, 
 " Oct. 29, 1825. 
 
 "My dear Mary, 
 " You desired me to write you ' a very wise letter, but not 
 about such things as how impulse begets motion.' You have 
 thus set me an arduous task, that contains nothing specific, and 
 only given a prohibition from which I am directed to stand 
 aloof. 
 
 " You are now, my dear child, fast verging towards maturity ; 
 let it therefore be your constant care that your mental and moral 
 improvement keep pace with your bodily powers. Human na- 
 ture is so constituted, in its pn sent state, that our passions and 
 understandings move onward from infancy to maturity in pro- 
 gressive order. It is, however, painful to observe, that in the 
 mnjorily of human beings, the passions outgrow the judgment ; 
 and, when this is the case, the man is sunk in the animal, and 
 the intellectual garden produces a crop of weeds, if not of poison- 
 ous vegetation. To prevent this, care, diligence, and unremit- 
 ting perseverance are necessary to make the moral and intel- 
 lectual culture keep pace with the animal propensities. When 
 this is neglected, we reach maturity in a state of mental deform- 
 ity, and are compelled, finally, to take our stand among the 
 hewers of wood and the drawers of water, who form the drudges 
 of the community. 
 
 " I have frequently told you, that, for intellectual improve- 
 ment, the most valuable period of human life lies between the 
 age o( fourteen and twcnty-fonr. The former you have passed, 
 and, whether you seize the opportunity or neglect it, the latter 
 is hastening towards you. Do not waste your time in reading 
 trash that you tnust abandon, although style and subject may 
 be fascinating; but rather turn to such things as you will hail 
 with joy in mature years, and reflect on with satisfaction. YouJ 
 have now an opportunity of taking time by the forelock. Doj 
 not let him get the start; for, once passed by, he is gone fon 
 ever. 
 
 " But, above all, do not forget that all your exertions after 
 intellectual attainments require the sanctifying influence of 
 
CHAKACTEKISTIC LETTERS. 
 
 291 
 
 Divine grace to be rendered truly valuable. Let this, therefore, 
 be the object of your daily pursuit, by unfeigned prayer. He 
 who lives under the dominion of his passions is an animal ; he 
 who rises no higher than the cultivation of intellect is, in the 
 sight of ihouglitless mortals, a rational philosopher ; but he who 
 looks beyond this state of existence, and cultivates an acquaint- 
 ance with God, as an heir of immortality, becomes a Ciiristian, 
 and enjoys the felicities of this life without forfeiting his inter- 
 est in another. Hence, 
 
 ' A Christian is the highest style of man.' 
 
 " In a former letter you asked me to propose some ques- 
 tions for you to answer. This I will now endeavour to do. lu 
 ornamenting your head, to which have you paid the most atten- 
 tion, the inside or the outside ? Are you industrious ? Do 
 you strive to make yourself useful to your friends ? Do you 
 pay attention to your drawing ? Do you keep company with 
 such as are calculated to improve you, both by precept and ex- 
 ample ? Do you read books designed ' to teach ihe young idea 
 how to shoot ?' Are you attentive to the duties of religion ? I 
 need not say that I am deeply interested in your welfare ; and 
 therefore a favourable answer to these questions will, in some 
 measure, cheer tiie solitude of 
 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Miss Drew^ Helaion, Cornwall." 
 
292 
 
 UFE OF 9AMVKL DREW, 
 
 SECTION XXX. 
 
 Mr. Drew's character as a Christian and a teacher of religion — Peculiari- 
 ties of his preaching. 
 
 Of Mr. Drew's feelings as a Christian little information can 
 be given beyond that which his writings, his public ministra- 
 tions, and his letters supply. No memoranda have been dis- 
 covered explanatory of liis progressive advances in personal 
 piety ; but in his ordinary deportment a diary is found as sat- 
 isfactory, in our judgment, as whole volumes of religious expe- 
 rience could furnish. 
 
 His conversion to God, the circumstances which preceded 
 it, and the influence of Christianity upon his general conduct, 
 are already known to the reader. When the liglit of Heaven 
 beamed upon his benighted understanding, he entered upon a 
 new era of existence. He then felt that he had a soul ; and, 
 as he describes the sensations of his infancy when under his 
 mother's instruction, his heart again "glowed with unutterable 
 delight." There was now an aim and a purpose in his being. 
 
 It was one of his favourite positions, that Christianity, when 
 properly influential, changes the spring of human action. Be- 
 ing redeemed from selfishness by Divine grace, he began to live 
 for the good of others. Yet, though active and zealous in 
 recommending that religion which he felt to be "the power of 
 God unto salvation," there was nothing in his deportment wild 
 or enthusiastic — nothing calculated to off'end. To persuade 
 and advise was a duty from which he never shrunk ; but, how- 
 ever greatly such sentiments may be condemned by the zealot 
 or the visionary, he did not imagiive that religious doctrines are 
 to be obtruded upon every company, and forced into every con- 
 versation. To special modes of doing good he was never in- 
 different ; and every benevolent institution found in him a ready 
 friend and an efficient advocate. 
 
 Mr. Drew's Christian experience (we use that ambiguous 
 phrase for want of a substitute) was without any material fluc- 
 tuation. Sustained by a vigorous faith which rarely exhibited 
 a symptom of weakness, an even tranquillity marked his course. 
 He knew very little of depression or of ecstasy. By him the 
 
HIS RELIGIOUS CHARACTER. 
 
 293 
 
 apostolic benediction, "Let the peace of God rule in your 
 hearts," seemed to have been fully realized ; and to many of 
 his Christian friends, who, at seasons, appeared to feel " more 
 abundant joy," he was the means of administering consolation 
 and comfort, when " the bright shining" of their Lord's counte- 
 nance was for a lime withdrawn. 
 
 Though he did not sustain the office of class-leader in St. 
 Austell, except at an early date, and for a brief period, yet, in 
 the absence of the appointed leaders, he not unfrequently ful- 
 filled their duties. Notwithstanding his usual placid feelings, 
 he knew, experimentally, enough of the Christian's conflicts and 
 consolations to become an admirable instructer of others. "I 
 remember," said an old member of the society, " that once, 
 when he led the class, I spoke of being in a very gloomy and 
 uncomfortable state of mind. His reply, which I shall never 
 forget, was simply this : — ' The clouds may come between U3 
 and the sun; but the sun still shines, and ere long the clouds 
 will pass away.' How often since have I been comforted by 
 his remark !" 
 
 A gentleman, who had placed himself under Mr. Drew's pri- 
 vate instruction in London, writes thus : — " As a class-leader 
 lie displayed an accurate knowledge of the human heart. He 
 had a peculiarly afliectionate method of enforcing on the con- 
 science the solemn precepts of religion ; and on its promises and 
 consolations he delighted to expatiate. His affection for the 
 members of his class, and his fervent prayers for their spir- 
 itual welfare, will long be remembered. For myself, I may 
 truly say, he was my father in Christ ; and to his advice and 
 kind instructions, under Divine grace, I owe much spiritual good. 
 His views of Scripture truth, and the importance of vital piety, 
 were free from enthusiasm, and were evidently the result of the 
 calm convictions of reason, confirmed and strengthened by the 
 powerful and abiding influences of the Holy Spirit. He was 
 pre-eminently a rational Christian, and held in subordinate 
 estimation those sudden bursts of feeling and physical excite- 
 ment which are considered by many as infallible signs of a high 
 state of religious impression." 
 
 Ardour of devotion, warmth of feeling in pious exercises, Mr. 
 Drew would have been the last person to condemn, but to any 
 thing like noise or confusion in religious meetings he was con- 
 stitutionally as well as theoretically averse. He has sometimes 
 said, " At such seasons I can never exercise deep devotion. A 
 sensation of disgust overpowers my better feelings. Such things 
 are to me what the wind was to the traveller in the fable" (and 
 Bb2 
 
394 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 in making the remark he would " suit the action to the,word") — 
 " they seem to make me button in my coat, and retire within my- 
 self." Among the religious society to which he belonged, we 
 do not esteem such feelings to bo peculiar to him ; and, although 
 a contrary opinion is insinuated by the author of " Biographical 
 Sketches in Cornwall," the remark tliat " Drew is a philosopher 
 among Methodists, and a Methodist among philosopiiers," is, 
 at the least, of dubious application. 
 
 We have intimated that he left no written description of his 
 religious feelings ; but are now half-disposed to question the 
 assertion. There is nothing, certainly, that purports to be such 
 a statement; but look where we may among his writings, pub- 
 lished and unpublislied, we see the out-breakings of the Chris- 
 tian spirit. Appended to his ordinary business memoranda, 
 such expressions as these — '• Thanks be to God," "Thanks be 
 to the Lord for all his mercies," " For this and every mercy 
 bestowed upon me God be praised," not unfrequently occur. 
 Scarcely a domestic letter of his can be perused in which there 
 is not some pious wish, some serious advice, or some holy 
 breathing; and his epistles of friendship glow with tiie same 
 hallowed feeling. Was not his whole life, from the period of 
 his conversion, a Christian diary ? And might he not, with per- 
 fect propriety, be associated with those members of an early 
 Christian church of whom it was said, in the language of inspi- 
 ration, " Ye are our epistles, known and read of all men ?" 
 
 In an early period of his literary correspondence with Dr. 
 Kidd, he remarks, " While we thus calculate on future avoca- 
 tions, we ought not to forget that our firmest footing may, on 
 a sudden, fail us, and in an instant summon us before the tri- 
 bunal of Him whose being and perfections we endeavour to 
 trace. This thought sometitnes stimulates me to action, be- 
 cause the moments that can be improved are very few — at 
 others it stagnates all my pursuits, and the necessity of pre- 
 paring to meet my God swallows up every other consideration. 
 To pass through time with an eye constantly fixed on eter- 
 nity, I trust, is my principal object. My only hopes of heaven 
 are founded on the life and death of our Lord Jesus ; and I 
 expect a qualification for the heavenly inheritance only through i 
 the influence of his Holy Spirit." I 
 
 In a letter to the same friend, dated July, 1827, he uses i| 
 these words: — " On Sundays I am almost constantly engaged 
 as a local preacher among the Wesleyan Methodists, as I have 
 been for the last forty years of my life. But, although my 
 services have been acceptable to the community of which I 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS PREACHING. 
 
 295 
 
 am a member, I am fully aware that something more is need- 
 ful to form the Christian, and sustain his character. My re- 
 liance for salvation is exclusively on the atonement of Christ, 
 through the instrumentality of that faith which leads to practical 
 godliness. I am aware, my dear I'riend, that I am not making 
 that progress in the divine life wiiich both duty and privilege 
 dictate ; but I bless God that my face is still Zionward, and 
 that I . have no desire to forsake the heavenly way. My faith 
 is not strong, but it is steady, and, I trust, genuine, uniting me 
 to Christ, my living head, and leading me to have my fruit unto 
 holiness. In theories and opinions I place but little confi- 
 dence ; and, in my estimation, no principle is any further valu- 
 able than as it leads to experimental or practical religion. 
 These are the primary objects which I am endeavouring to 
 attain, and I experience a pleasing assurance that God will at 
 last receive me into glory." 
 
 Were it necessary to advert to Mr. Drew's religious senti- 
 ments, we should call his views evangelical, and his tenets 
 Anninian, though we question whether he would have sub- 
 scribed throughout to any formal confession of faith — to none 
 certainly that breathed an exclusive spirit. He was an Ar- 
 minian more especially in discrediting, as doctrines of revela- 
 tion, w«conc?i<jonaZ reprobation ^nd particular redemption. So 
 repugnanttotheattributes of Deity did he deem the partial extent 
 of the atonement, that he has said, " Could I persuade myself 
 of its being a doctrine of the Bible, 1 should seriously question 
 whether the Bible were a revelation from God." Yet a literary 
 gentleman of Calvinislic sentiments, with whom he corre- 
 sponded, writes to him, " I find by your answers to my questions 
 that you are as good a Calvinist as myself." 
 
 When Mr. Drew became a preacher, it was without that 
 conviction of his being divinely called to the office which many 
 Christians deem indispensable. Under a general belief that 
 it is every man's duty to " do good to all as he may have oppor- 
 tunity," he yielded to the judgment of his Christian brethren 
 who thought him well qualified to take a part in their ministe- 
 rial labours. 
 
 In his pulpit discourses the peculiarity of his mind was ap- 
 parent. His subjects being generally such as led either to a 
 discussion of some important theological proposition, or to an 
 investigation of the evidences of the Christian faith, the posi- 
 tions maintained in his writings were often brought forward in 
 his oral addresses, and placed in new and commanding lights. 
 In his views and illustrations there was much originality ; and. 
 
S96 
 
 riFE OF SAMUEL DBEVT. 
 
 although limited in his choice of subjects, his sermons exhibited 
 so much depth and range of thought that their sameness was 
 unnoticed or overlooked. There was no tinsel in their com- 
 position ; and every hearer accustomed to close, sifting investi- 
 gation enjoyed a rich intellectual treat. Perhaps we cannot 
 better describe him as a preacher than in the words used in 
 one of the weekly prints a few days after his decease. 
 
 " He abounded in anecdote, and possessed a peculiar humour 
 which gave a relish to his occasional remarks and to his con- 
 versation ; but let him ascend the pulpit, and deliver a set dis- 
 course, and he infallibly opened up some question of abstract 
 science, as the immortality of the human soul, or the being of 
 God. But the discussion of these and similar questions, though 
 frequently repeated before the same congregation, never tired. 
 The acuteness of Mr. Drew's perceptions, and his quick and 
 clear apprehension of the successive links in the chain of an 
 argument, combined with uncommon facility and volubility of 
 utterance, though entirely unassisted by any of the graces of 
 oratory, obtained and secured attention without ever wearying 
 it. It is probable that few persons who have heard Mr. D. 
 preach entertained so clear notions of the subject on which he 
 discoursed, as those which they received on hearing him ; and 
 the monotopicism of his sermons was the less to be regretted, as, 
 in the great variety of pulpit talent, there are few preachers 
 who have the ability, or, having the ability, are governed by 
 the inclination, to introduce the metaphysics of theology into 
 the pulpit."* 
 
 In subscribing to the opinion of this writer, that Mr. Drew 
 was "entirely unassisted by the graces of oratory," we do not 
 admit that he was de.'^titute of eloquence ; but that he neither 
 studied nor affected rhetorical gesture. His thoughts were 
 habitually clothed in appropriate language ; the force and pre- 
 cision of his expressions every hearer felt ; and, when yield- 
 ing to his poetical imagination, he would sometimes delight his 
 audience by passages of surpassing beauty and sublimity. 
 Still, he made no pretensions to the refinement of a finished 
 preacher. He was not free from provincialisms ; and his broad 
 pronunciation of some words would have sounded harshly on 
 the ear, were not the attention of his auditory so fully occupied j 
 with his matter as to forget his manner. j 
 
 His preliminary movements, when about to address a con- 
 gregation, were not governed by the purest taste ; but they had 
 become so habitual, that to avoid them he must have placed 
 
 ♦ Christian Advocate. 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS PREACHING. 
 
 297 
 
 himself under uncomfortable restraint. Before he began his 
 sermon, he invariably turned back the cuffs of his coat, that 
 his hands might be at perfect liberty. After reciting his text, 
 expectoration was the next process. Then, pausing so long, 
 with an introverted eye, that a stranger might have supposed 
 he had either forgotten, or was unable to proceed with his sub- 
 ject, he would, in a calm, deliberate, and collected manner,enter 
 upon his introduction. Two or three divisions formed the total 
 of his artificial arrangement ; and sometimes, without any such 
 aid, he would follow out his leading thought, and push the in- 
 quiry to a conclusion. The truth expressed or implied in the 
 text being thus established by collateral Scripture evidence and 
 a reference to abstract principles, he would point out its pe- 
 culiar application to the auditory, and conclude whh solemn 
 appeals to their judgment and their conscience. His voice, 
 distinct throughout, would become elevated and impassioned as 
 he grew warm with his subject ; and his words, slow at the 
 first, would acquire rapidity and power, as though the deepen- 
 ing current of his thoughts gave them momentum as well as 
 impulse. 
 
 Aliiiough some hearers could not follow out his train of rea- 
 soning, yet, from his incidental and pointed remarks, they were 
 sure to derive information and benefit. His illustrations pro- 
 duced their full effect, when his arguments were but partially 
 understood ; and the consciences of those who listened were 
 rarely insensible to the faithfulness of his admonitions. 
 
 We are far from representing Mr. Drew as a model of pulpit 
 oratory. Had he been, instead of an occasional preacher, the 
 setded pastor of a congregation, his discourses would have 
 appeared deficient, not only in variety, but in specific appro- 
 priation. Like Mr. Hall, he viewed human nature in the ab- 
 stract, not in its individual modes. The general application 
 of his sermons was forcible, but it wanted that particular bear- 
 ing on the conscience, and appeal to the feelings, which, upon 
 the majority of hearers, produces a more instantaneous effect 
 than usually results from rigid demonstration. He spoke to 
 Ithe judgment — not to the passions. Such views of the Deity 
 las would invest him with a vindictive character he always dep- 
 recated ; and, though he knew " the terrors of the Lord," he 
 sought to persuade rather than to alarm men. The necessity 
 of an atonement for sin, and of the renewing and purifying 
 influences of the Holy Ghost, were prominent features in all his 
 addresses ; yet this was represented more as a result of the 
 
298 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 fallen state of man, and the immutability of the Divine nature, 
 than as an alternative of endless misery ; and even the utter 
 wo consequent upon final impenitence, as less the good pleas- 
 ure of the Almighty than a necessity in the nature of things, 
 and an inevitable consequence of rejecting proffered grace. 
 
 Those who scrutinized Mr. Drew's sermons would have 
 found reason to conclude, that when he dwelt upon those pre- 
 ceptive parts of Scripture which refer to moral duties, he 
 rarely entered into their minute bearings, or offered special 
 directions in those difficult cases which are of frequent occur- 
 rence in every man's experience. He regarded the Bible 
 rather as a repository of principles than as a code of laws 
 regulating each minute action. On the universal adaptation 
 of the Gospel message to the circumstances and expectations 
 of mankind, he often dwelt and reasoned: whatever in the 
 general economy of Providence appeared dark and doubtful he 
 felt pleasure in attempting to explain ; and he delighted to 
 bring into a focus those scattered rays which play around 
 the gloomiest dispensations, and to " vindicate the ways of 
 God to man." 
 
 In exhibiting the various evidences of Christianity, — in 
 repelling all who attempted to weaken or undermine her walls 
 and bulwarks, — in consoling the afflicted, by directing their 
 vision towards that glory that shall be revealed, — and in point- 
 ing out the immutable bases of good and evil, and their conse- 
 quences in a future state of being, he expatiated in a region 
 perfectly congenial with his thoughts and feelings. We dare 
 not say that he could not have trained himself to a more 
 minute and personal style of preaching, had he deemed it ne- 
 cessary. Concluding, with reference to the pulpU, as he did in 
 his pursuit of knowledge, that 
 
 " One science only will one genius fit," 
 
 he perhaps judged it preferable to yield to the general bent of 
 his mind, and to pursue that course in which he could move 
 with the greatest freedom. Connected as he was with the^ 
 itinerant system, he perceived that all those benefits whicM 
 may result from a versatility of talent in a fixed minister arJ 
 secured to the Methodist hearers by the "diversity of gifts'! 
 exhibited in the successive ministrations of many. Perhaps,^ 
 too, he thought, that, while each was cultivating his own pecu- 
 liar ability, and bringing it into the general stock, the perfec- 
 tion which in arts and manufactures results from a subdivision 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS PREACHING. 
 
 299 
 
 of labour might from such a system not unreasonably be ex- 
 pected in a higher and hoUer occupation. 
 
 A gentleman who frequently sat under Mr. Drew's ministry 
 in the metropolis has given an opinion of his preaching, 
 which, though not according in every particular with the pre- 
 ceding remarks, may be quoted in illustration. 
 
 " As is usual in the public ministrations of the Wesleyan 
 Methodists, Mr. Drew's sermons were delivered extempora- 
 neously, and, though highly argumentative, were truly evan- 
 gelical. Notwithstanding his natural aptitude for abstruse and 
 subtle disquisition, the various striking remarks with which his 
 oral addresses abounded were sure, even with regard to the 
 plainest understanding, not only to rivet attention but affect the 
 heart. The inipressiveness of his discourses could not be 
 imputed to Extravagance either of voice or gesture ; yet he was 
 an energetic and efficient preacher. This I attribute to his 
 fervour of spirit ; to the uncommon pains he took, first to select 
 and submit an important proposition, and then to prove what 
 he proposed ; and to his endeavour to explain and enforce 
 upon the judgment and conscience of the hearer the truth 
 under consideration. His discourse was usually so linked 
 together, from beginning to end, by a chain of consecutive 
 reasoning, that, unless the hearer regarded each point as it was 
 handled, the process was disturbed, and the force of the whole 
 weakened or lost. Superficial and drowsy hearers deemed 
 him a dry preacher. To all such he must have been so. By 
 tiie earnest and watchful listener no such complaint was 
 made."* 
 
 Elaborate in argument as Mr. Drew's pulpit addresses 
 appeared, he bestowed little time on their preparation. A 
 contrary opinion is intimated in the foregoing paragraph ; but, 
 to those who were best acquainted with his daily engagements, 
 it was well known that he had liiile leisure for study in refer- 
 ence to his public discourses. An hour's retirement was all 
 the preparation he in general needed to speak from a new text. 
 
 L * Mr. Drew's discourses were variously appreciated. In some Wes- 
 He)'an cliapels in Cornwall an individual has at times ofEciated as a 
 kreucher, who, from his deficient understanding of every other subject 
 pbut religion, is commonly known liy the appellation of " /Ae fool." On 
 retiring from the chapel in one of the Uornish towns where Mr. Drew 
 had been delivering an occasional sermon, an individual of the congre- 
 gation was overheard to ask another, " Was not that the fool that 
 preached 1" 
 
300 
 
 tIFE OF SAMUEL DKEW. 
 
 Composition would have been a term inapplicable to his ser* 
 itions. Pen and ink he used very sparingly. The divisions 
 which a text might suggest, and a few prominent ideas, were 
 all that he was accustomed to note down. There are few of 
 his sermons, as far as they are committed to writing, that 
 occupy a larger space in his rough manuscript than six inciies 
 square. He has expressed it as his opinion, that " the man 
 who cannot preach a sermon without first arranging it on paper 
 is ill qualified for his office ;" and he, on one occasion, ob- 
 served to a friend, " I never but once wrote a sermon at length 
 before 1 preached it, and that I spoiled." 
 
 The cause of this may be traced in the activity of his mind, 
 and ills habits of close thinking. The leading doctrines of 
 Christianity having been the subjects of his most rigid investi- 
 gation, the arguments for each were arranged in his memory 
 ready to be brought forward upon the shortest notice. One 
 or other of these was to be found, directly or by implication, 
 in every striking passage of Scripture ; and thus the ground- 
 work and materials of an argumentative discourse being 
 already provided, he could quickly fashion and complete the 
 structure. Very seldom, we believe, did he frame a discourse 
 and then choose for it a texi, though this he may have done 
 on special occasions. Commonly, when a portion of Scrip- 
 ture presented itself in confirmation of some vagrant but im- 
 portant thought, he would seize on it, examine it, refer it to its 
 principles, carry it out to its consequences, and note down, in 
 a few words, the process and the result, as materials for a 
 future sermon, to be used as occasion might require. 
 
 Without even this degree of preparation he has been known 
 to address a congregation. While stopping at a friend's 
 house, in the St. Austell circuit, to take some refreshment after 
 preaching, a person in company who had attended the service 
 remarked to him, that he had on that occasion surpassed his 
 usual abilities. In this opinion he was followed by several 
 others. " If it be true," said Mr. Drew, " it is the more sin- 
 gular, because my sermon was entirely unpremeditated. I 
 went into tlie pulpit designing to address you from another 
 text; but looking on the Bible, which lay open, that passagej 
 from which you heard me speak just now, ' Prepare to meet] 
 thy God, O Israel,' arrested my attention so forcibly as to puJ 
 to flight my former ideas ; and, though I had never considerecfl 
 the passage before, I resolved instantly to make it the subject 
 of my address." 
 
 It may be thought that Mr. Drew's want of careful prepa- 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS PREACHING. 
 
 301 
 
 ration for the pulpit proceeded either from too lightly estimat- 
 ing the sacredness and importance of the office, too little 
 deference to his audience, or too much self-dependence. Such 
 a charge would have been unsupported by evidence. Through- 
 out almost his whole life he hnd too many occupations to per- 
 mit the appropriation of any considerable portion of time to the 
 construction or polish of his discourses. It should also be 
 remembered, that he never considered preaching to be his 
 proper business ; he viewed it as something incidental and 
 subordinate to the general purposes of his being. 
 
 In his prayers there was very little of excursive fancy, and 
 not much variety of language. Changing a word in that ex- 
 pressive sentence of Dr. Johnson, perhaps he felt that " the 
 good and evil of eternity were too ponderous for the wings of 
 imagination. While ascribing praise, he evinced the over- 
 flowings of a grateful heart ; and when making supplication, 
 he felt all the weight, importance, and solemnity of the duty. 
 Few could listen to his prayers, and not experience in some 
 degree similar sensations. One might forget that he was a 
 philosopher, but every sentence proved that he was a Chris- 
 tian. 
 
 In the selection of hymns he was particularly careful not to 
 put those into the mouths of a mixed congregation which, like 
 the greater number in Mr. Wesley's collection, describe per- 
 sonal feelings, and as such can be used with truth by a few 
 persons only. From this scrupulosity his choice was neces- 
 sarily much limited. Those of Dr. Watts's composition he 
 chiefly preferred, and used most frequently. Before the pub- 
 lication of the supplement to Mr. Wesley's collection, he 
 regretted that there were so few hymns in the book adapted 
 for general worship. 
 
 To be exceedingly sensitive to any remark upon their pul- 
 pit discourses is a foible of some preachers. A question inti- 
 mating doubt of the truth of any proposition of the speaker is 
 construed into an imputation on his ability, and half resented 
 as an ofi'ence. To such a feeling Mr. Drew was an utter 
 stranger. He rather wished that every thing he advanced 
 should be thoroughly sifted. A young lady who heard him 
 preach on the atonement, not clearly understanding his views 
 on one particular point, ventured, on leaving the chapel, with 
 some apology for her freedom, to tell him so. As they were 
 passing along the street, he returned to that part of his sermon, 
 gave a farther illustration of his arguments, and removed the 
 C c 
 
302 
 
 LITE OI SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 difficulty. " Now remember," said he, on parting, " whenever 
 you hear me assert any thing you do not fully understand, or 
 which you think questionable, be sure you tell me of it, and 
 persevere till you comprehend my meaning, and are satisfied 
 of its truth." 
 
 The reader who has become thus far acquainted with Mr. 
 Drew's character and catholic spirit will feel no surprise in 
 learning that he was frequently invited to officiate in other 
 pulpits than those belonging to the Wesleyan Methodists. 
 This he did in several instances in Cornwall, and, we believe, 
 in the metropolis. He felt pleasure in acceding to such 
 requests, because he delighted to witness, to foster, and to 
 gratify the liberal spirit which originated such invitations ; 
 yet, when an attempt Avas made to detach him from the 
 Methodists by certain wealthy and influential individuals in 
 London offering to build for him a new, independent church, 
 and to guarantee him a handsome income, the spirit of his 
 reply was, " I dwell among mine own people." To Wesleyan 
 Methodism he was attached by various ties, and from its com- 
 munion he resolved not to separate. 
 
 It may be expected that some notice should be taken of Mr. 
 D.'s labours as a preacher in reference to their success. 
 That preaching is to be estimated by its moral effect, and a 
 preacher valued according to his usefulness, is readily ad- 
 mitted ; but if it be thence concluded that this usefulness must 
 be of a specific kind, and that he only is to be esteemed as a 
 preacher who has been instrumental in convening many sin- 
 ners, we deny the inference. High and important as this 
 work is, there are various other modes in which a public 
 teacher may benefit those who hear him ; nor is the conver- 
 sion of sinners to supersede the " building up" of believer's on 
 their " most holy faith." We even question the validity of an 
 opinion proceeding from a higiily venerated authority, that 
 " fruit" is an indispensable proof of being called to the minis- 
 try. It assumes a ground vvliich we have attempted to show . 
 is untenable : it is fallacious as a lest, because bad men have j 
 been the means of alarming sinners, and leading them to God ;| 
 and it involves this contradiction, that a man must exercise the! 
 ministerial office for an indefinite period before it can be known ^ 
 whether he ought to exercise it or not. 
 
 But, waving such objections, direct testimonies are not want- 
 ing to Mr. Drew's ministerial usefulness. 
 
EFFECTS OF HIS PREACHING. 
 
 303 
 
 The case of the Roman Catholic female, who was led 
 through his preaching to embrace Protestantism, and expe- 
 rience the power of religion on her heart, has been already 
 noticed. It was not long after he began to labour as a local 
 preacher, that an individual, at a love-feast, stated that he had 
 been brought to " the knowledge of salvation by the remission 
 of sins" through the awakening of his conscience under one of 
 Mr. Drew's sermons. A gentleman of Falmouth, in a letter 
 dated January, 1816, writes to Mr. Drew, '-I have had the 
 pleasure of attending and benefiting by several of your lec- 
 tures, during your former and last visit to this town ; and, not 
 being in the Methodist connection, I am at a loss in what way 
 to testify my gratitude to you." 
 
 A pious lady ofFowey, in a recent communication observes, 
 *• The Lord was pleased to make Mr. Drew's preaching useful 
 in this place. His talents and celebrity attracted many of the 
 respectable inhabitants to the Methodist chapel, some of whom 
 became frequent and attentive hearers. One of the first fruits 
 of his ministry here was a female, who joined the Methodist 
 society, and endured persecution for the cross of Christ. A lady 
 of this town, who had heard Mr. D. preach, being taken ill, 
 expressed a wish to see him, and was led, through his instruc- 
 tions, to see that an unblameable outward conduct was insuffi- 
 cient for her salvation : this blessing she sought through faith 
 in Christ ; and was enabled, before her decease, to declare that 
 she felt the door of mercy to be open." 
 
 A Wesleyan minister, a native of the St. Austell circuit, ob- 
 serves, in a letter to the writer, " Your dear father had long one 
 of the highest seats in my esteem and affection. He was the 
 chief instrument, in the hands of God, of directing my attention 
 to things divine." 
 
 There would be little difficulty in adding to this list, were it 
 necessary to seek for instances. In Mr. Drew's native town 
 many pious individuals refer with pleasure to his pulpit and 
 private instructions, and to the enlargement of views and quick- 
 ening of spirit which they felt as the result. 
 
 Although Mr. Drew shone chiefly as a metaphysical preacher, 
 it must not be inferred that he appeared in no other character. 
 He has preached many sermons in which little of metaphysics 
 was perceptible, though the hearer could not forget that he was 
 listening to " a master in Israel." In the afternoon services in 
 St. Austell, and at the meetings for prayer, he would frequently 
 address the auditory upon particular religious topics in a manner 
 
304 
 
 LIFE OF SAUITEL DREVT. 
 
 quite colloquial. Indeed he was peculiarly felicitous in ex- 
 plaining separately, and in detail, the doctrines of Christianity ; 
 and never, perhaps, was it done with more permanent effect 
 than in such spontaneous remarks. His conceptions were 
 clear ; his language perspicuous and precise ; and he possessed 
 the happy faculty of throwing out into strong relief the promi- 
 nent features of a subject, so that it could not fail to be noticed 
 and retained in the memory. 
 
 That Mr. Drew, as a preacher, was no copyist will be readily 
 mferred ; yet it may excite some surprise to know that, except 
 as a hearer, he was little acquainted with the pulpit perform- 
 ances of others. He may have occasionally looked into a 
 printed discourse; but until, as the editor of a magazine and a 
 reviewer, it became to him a matter of business, we question 
 whether he had read through a volume of sermons during hia 
 whole life. 
 
 SECTION XXXI. 
 
 Mr. Drew's intellectual character. 
 
 In attempting to estimate Mr. Drew's intellectual powers, the 
 biographer feels not only his incompetency, but the peculiar 
 difficulty arising from near relationship, — the difficulty of doing 
 justice to his subject, and avoiding the suspicion of over-state- 
 ment. Happily the facts are before the reader. From these, 
 in connection with Mr. D.'s publications, he can form his own 
 opinion, and correct what, in this summary, he may deem erro- 
 neous. 
 
 To maintain that Mr. Drew was benefited by ignorance may 
 seem, at first, paradoxical ; yet with certain limitations, it ap- 
 pears to be true. Must it not be admitted, that for much of his 
 celebrity he was indebted, not merely to absolute greatness of 
 mind, but to the remarkable contrast between his vigorous intel- 
 lect and the unpropitious circumstancss under which it was 
 developed ? In a letter to Dr. Kidd, already quoted, Mr. D. 
 himself suggests the doubt, whether his early poverty and igno- 
 rance were a misfortune; since these afterwaici attracted that 
 notice and procured for him that patronage which otherwise 
 might not have been bestowed. But there is another sense in 
 
HIS UfTELLECTCAL CHABACTEK. 
 
 305 
 
 which the proposition may be true. The majority of charac- 
 ters are formed and moulded by circumstances. His evidently 
 did not, in the main, grow out of circumstances, but arose in 
 opposition to them ; and so far it was original. Yet we think 
 there might have been much less originality than is to be found 
 in his writings, had his reading been more extensive. His igno- 
 rance of books, and consequently of systems, compelled him, 
 if he exercised his thoughts at all, to think for himself; it led 
 him to form his opinions according to evidence, and not accor- 
 ding to authority ; and, being necessarily thrown upon his own 
 mental resources, his ideas were original without his knowing 
 that they were so. It may be further remarked, that this ne- 
 cessity of thinking out his way begot a habit of close, rigid 
 scrutiny, which was to him what the result of mathematical 
 study is to an educated man. Will it be said, that if this be 
 true, it will prove ignorance and the absence of education to be 
 a blessing ? We answer. No : for under the mental privations 
 against whicli Mr. D. had to struggle, not one man in a thousand 
 would ever think at all. The very fact and manner of his rising 
 superior to such obstacles, show him to be, what we think he 
 may be truly termed, an original tuinkek. 
 
 There are some readers of biography who are scarcely sat- 
 isfied that a narrative is faithful, unless they can trace in the 6oy 
 the lineaments of the man. These may experience a feeling of 
 disappointment in the perusal of the foregoing pages. The bold 
 and fearless daring of the character is plainly discoverable, but 
 there was little else in Mr. D.'s early years indicative of high 
 mental powers. He presents a remarkable contrast to some 
 distinguished individuals, whose intellect, developed even in 
 childhood, reminds us of those tropical plants whose buds 
 scarcely know a state of rest, but unfold as soon as they are 
 formed. His mind, in its growth, rather resembled the vegeta- 
 ble productions of the arctic regions, which, remaining dormant 
 and apparently lifeless through a rigorous and protracted win- 
 ter, burst suddenly into foliage, flower, and fruit. 
 
 Both his memory and reasoning powers were subject to se- 
 vere discipHne. When he first felt a thirst for knowledge he 
 was too poor to purchase books. Those which were lent him 
 he could not, after glancing at their contents, lay aside for the 
 purpose of reference : it was necessary to read and return. He 
 did so ; but what he read he laboured to make his own.* To 
 
 * An observation which will be found in the biography of the late Rob- 
 ert Hall, is not inapplicable to Mr. Drew. " He did not then read much. 
 Cc3 
 
306 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 this practice, and the daily habit of discussing topics and rela- 
 ting facts, the knowledge of which he obtained by reading, may 
 be attributed the fund of information which lie possessed even 
 when he was under the necessity of labouring diligently with 
 his hands for food and raiment. 
 
 His own views of his abilities and attainments, expressed in 
 a letter to Dr. Kidd, June, 1814, may be quoted in confirmation 
 of these remarks. " Alas ! my friend, I am far from being 
 learned, according to the common acceptation of the term. I 
 am totally ignorant of every language except my own, and my 
 reading has not been very diversified. Perhaps I think rather 
 more than I read, and am more indebted to a vigorous intellect, 
 for the little acquirements I have made, than to those sources 
 which learning in general teaches us to explore. I have nothing 
 which I have not received, and, therefore, have no room for 
 glorying. My literary history, in all its parts, would exhibit 
 a curious biographical feature." 
 
 Without instituting a comparison between Mr. Drew and any 
 other individual, he claims our regard, as possessing that unaf- 
 fected simplicity which is generally the accompaniment of true 
 mental greatness. It is, perhaps, no less a testimony to his 
 intellectual supeiiority, than to his sterling every-day worth, 
 that to those who knew him intimately, he appeared not so 
 much the great man or the philosopher, as tlie familiar adviser 
 and confidential friend. Taough, as an intimate acquaintance 
 remarks, " to be with him was like breathing an intellectual 
 atmosphere," yet the subjects with which his tlioughts were 
 usually conversant, did not unfit him for, or place him above, 
 the ordinary concerns of life. Of him absence of mind could 
 never be truly predicated. However his thoughts might soar, 
 they were never lost in clouds : — they extended to little things 
 as well as great. 
 
 There were two or three mental qualities for which he was 
 always remarkable. One, which has been noticed in an earlier 
 page, is, his almost intuitive perception of the bearings and re- 
 mote consequences of any proposition in moral science : — the 
 facility with which he wouhl analyze a sophism, and expose hs 
 fallacy, was also a characteristic. However an erroneous posi- 
 tion might be disguised, it could not stand his scrutiny. He 
 
 A page, indeed, was to him more serviceable than a volume to many. 
 Hints from reading or discourse, passing through his great mind expan- 
 ded into treatises and systems, until the adopted was lost in the begotten 
 so much so, that the whole appeared original." — page 63. 13mo. 
 
niS INTELLECTtTAL CHARACTER. 
 
 307 
 
 would instantly strip off its specious covering, and expose its 
 deformity. He seemed always to perceive clearly the direc- 
 tion in which inquiry might be pushed to a satisfactory conclu- 
 sion ; — to see the boundaries beyond which human knowledge 
 cannot pass ; and to mark the fitness or the unfitness of a sub- 
 ject for man's reasoning powers. To attempt an explanation 
 of the inexplicable, or a comprehension of the incomprehensible, 
 was an error into which, we believe, he never fell ; nor did he, 
 like many metaphysicians, lose himself in a misty region. " I 
 am never satisfied," he has said, " unless I feel the ground as 
 I go." We do not term him a subtle reasoner ; because the epi- 
 thet implies artifice, which he ever disdained ; but he was an 
 ACUTE reasoiiiir, and his mental vision was eminently clear and 
 PENETRATING. That he was also a profound thinker, we be- 
 lieve his works abundantly testify.* 
 
 Another feature in his intellectual portrait claims our notice. 
 There are many individuals w^ho occasionally rouse themselves 
 to great menial effort, but hasten to escape from it, and relapse 
 into indolent contemplation or animal enjoyment. Mr. Drew 
 was a LABORIOUS tiiinker, and his motto was perseverance. If 
 he met with a difficulty, he did not pass it by, but was sure to 
 grapple with it. Unlike those animals of the feline class, that 
 are daunted if the first spring prove unsuccessful, he put forth 
 additional energies until the obstacle was overcome. 
 
 With any inquiry that greatly engaged his attention, his mind 
 would be so incessantly occupied that thought became spon- 
 taneous ; and oven in his reveries he was usually dwelling 
 on lofty and sublime subjects. Observing him sitting silent 
 and thoughtful among a family party, a young person present 
 said, " Mr. Drew, what are you thinking about 1" — " Wliy, I was 
 just then thinking," he replied, " that, as a moment is at every 
 part of creation at the same time, so is God everywhere." — 
 " Similar instances," says the gentleman who related the 
 circumstance, "I have known to occur, not seldom. Mr. Drew's 
 
 * Mr. Drew's talent for profound criticism may be inferred from the fol- 
 lowing remark, in a letter addressed to him in 1807 by Mr. Davies Gil- 
 bert : — " I have deferred writing to you from a desire of communicating 
 the sentiments of Lord Malmesbury and Lord Fitzharris, respecting the 
 observations you were so good as to send me on Mr. Harris's Hermes and 
 Dialogues. I concluded you could not object to my exhibiting to the son 
 and grandson of Mr. Harris, observations and remarks much more to his 
 honour than any indiscriminate praises. A few days ago. Lord Fitzhar- 
 ris returned the paper, expressing himself most highly pleased and grati- 
 fied by the perusal of such acute, accurate, and liberal criticisms, on a work 
 most interesting to him." 
 
308 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUJit DREW. 
 
 mind, even when at rest, seemed to be thinking — in the proper 
 sense of the term." 
 
 Talking at one time on dreaming, and- on Professor Stewart's 
 attempted solution of its phenomena, he remarked, in confirm- 
 ation of the professor's views, " Dreams frequently take their 
 complexion from the events of the day. When the mind is 
 absorbed in, or particularly anxious about any subject, it will 
 probably revert to the same in sleep. While I was writing my 
 Essay on the Soul, all the powers of my mind were bent upon 
 it — it occupied my whole thoughts by day, and frequently gave 
 a colouring to my dreams at night. On one occasion, retiring 
 to bed after thinking and writing as usual, a train of argument 
 presented itself to me, in favour of my subject, entirely new and 
 satisfactory. I followed it out, in all its bearings, to a conclusion 
 that appeared to be irresistible. Overjoyed T awoke, and was 
 surprised to know that it was a dream. The outlines of the 
 demonstration being fresh in my recollection, I laid hold of 
 them, examined them, traced them up, and brought them to the 
 same conclusion. I considered and reconsidered the argument, 
 sifted and weighed it, and was satisfied that it was strong, firm, 
 and substantial, and entirely new in its character. I esteemed 
 it the most fortunate event of my life. I then thought of get- 
 ting up, and striking a light, that I might put down the heads ; 
 but altered my mind, intending to do it in the morning, and suf- 
 fered myself to fall asleep. When the morning came, I did not 
 forget the circumstance, but had entirely lost every vestige of 
 the argument and the manner of reasoning, nor have I been 
 able, from that day to this, to recall any idea of it. I Tiave 
 frequently regretted my not getting up immediately and mak- 
 ing notes of it." 
 
 " Did the mode of reasoning appear to you stronger than 
 that which you have adopted in your Essay ?" it was asked. 
 
 "To me it did appear so at that time." 
 
 " But you are satisfied that your present Essay is sufficiently 
 firm and conclusive?" 
 
 " O yes ; quite so." 
 
 "Then, why do you regret the loss of your dream?" 
 " You know the stronger we make our bulwarks, and the 
 more impregnable our fortifications, the better." 
 
 In an early letter to Dr. Kidd he remarked, " The evening 
 is a time which, in general, I find most congenial to thought. 
 But evening as well as morning is frequently wanted for some- 
 thing more domestic than abstract speculations." He subse- 
 
BIS INTELLECTUAL CBARACTEB. 
 
 309 
 
 quently adds, " There are certain times when I can write with 
 ease and satisfaction to myself, but there are too many others 
 in which the mind seems frozen, and in which all I write is fit 
 only to be destroyed. Such are the ebbs and flows to which 
 my mind is subject." 
 
 During the closing days of his life, his intellect seemed to be 
 contending with the paralyzing efTects of disease. Fragments 
 of thoughts, apparently disjointed and without connection, but 
 probably linked by si.ine unknown association with the train of 
 ideas passing involuntarily through his mind, were sometimes 
 uttered. At other seasons, he would apparently be engaged 
 in earnest conversation or a public address, in which some em- 
 phatic remark, or a few words of a poetical quotation, would 
 break forth. This last scene of his mortal existence furnished 
 a mournful illustration of the mind's activity, while physical 
 exhaustion deprived it of the power of controlling, concentrat- 
 ing, and wielding thought at will. 
 
 With the feeling and fancj- of a poet, and the excursive 
 glance of a philosepher, Mr. Drew pos lessed, in a remarkable 
 degree, a quality which seldom enters into such combination. 
 Resembling, in this particular, his friend Dr. Adam Clarke, 
 and, in some others ;ilso, a man whom, in early life, he esteemed 
 a model — Dr. Benjamin Franklin, — he had a plain, patient, busi- 
 ness-like, matter-of-fact understanding, which qualified him to 
 examine the details as well as to grasp the whole of any sub- 
 ject. Thus gifted, he would probably have shone in mathe- 
 matical investigation, had he chosen that path to eminence. 
 Beneficially, perhaps, for the community, his views were 
 directed to mo-al science, and to those fundamental truths upon 
 which all sound morality is built. There are many mathema- 
 ticians; but there are comparatively few who devote themselves 
 to the philosophy of mind. 
 
 Mr. Drew did not think, with the late gifted Robert Hall, that 
 metaphysical studies "yield no fruit," and that they are merely 
 an "arena" for liie dipplay of " intellectual gladiatorship ;" nor 
 did he concur in opinion with the celebrated Edmund Burke, that 
 " when we go one step beyond the immediate, sensible qualities 
 of things, we go out of our depth." " The science of mind," he 
 has said, "is as yet in its infancy — it is but little known. I 
 wish men would think more. Whitefield and Wesley gave an 
 impulse to the religious world, the effects of which we now 
 feel, and which, I hope, will never subside. A similar impulse 
 was given by Locke and Reid to the thinking world ; but it has 
 been faintly followed up. Hereafter, I believe, some meia- 
 
310 
 
 LIFB OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 physical Columbus will arise, traverse vast oceans of thought, 
 and explore regions now undiscovered, to which our little minds 
 and weak ideas do not enable us to soar." 
 
 While thus anticipating the achievements of the reasoning 
 faculty, he did not forget, that man, in his present state of being, 
 can " see but in part, and know but in part." Delineating pro- 
 bably, his own mental character, he once remarked, " The 
 human mind, dissatisfied with past attainments, looks forward 
 into the boundless ocean of futurity, and darts into the obscure 
 recesses of hidden truth with insatiable eagerness. It is ever 
 on the wing ; pursuing, with restless anxiety, those objects 
 which just appear to tempt its excursions, and then retire to 
 mock Its hopes, — till, wearied with the unequal flight, it is 
 compelled to acknowledge the darkness which hovers round it, 
 and, if properly instructed, to seek repose in the declarations 
 of God." 
 
 A further exhibition of his sentiments and intellectual charac- 
 ter will be seen in the following sentences written by him, in 
 1831, in a lady's album. 
 
 " How valuable soever scientific attainments may be, in refe- 
 rence to our present state, it is very doubtful if they retain any 
 direct importance in relation to eternity. Another mode of be- 
 ing may bring with it new modes of thinking, and a new class 
 of thoughts, which will have but a remote connection with our 
 earthly analogies, principles, and processes of reasoning. Of 
 these, at present, we can form no adequate conceptions. 
 
 " Our passport to heaven is moral excellence, righteousness, 
 and holiness. Love to God, and love towards all the celestial 
 inhabitants, constitute tiie only currency of that immaculate 
 abode. So far as our scientific acquisitions have been rendered 
 subservient to these momentous purposes, their excellence bears 
 the stamp of immortality ; but beyond this, perhaps, they have 
 no value. 
 
 " Scientific knowledge may be compared to flowers which 
 regale our senses with their fragrance, but will not bear trans- 
 planting into that region which lies beyond the grave. We 
 may, nevertheles.<i, extract from them a moral essence which, 
 preserved with care, will become imperishable. 
 
 " The amaranth of heaven may be found in the pages of 
 revelation. It will flourish both in this world, and that which 
 is to come : — it will never fade. It is an asbestos which the 
 general conflagration will have no power to destroy ; and it 
 will yield a pure aroma to regale the disembodied spirits for 
 aver." 
 
niS IKTELLECTCAL CHARACTER. 
 
 311 
 
 f 
 
 The literary friends of Mr. Drew were numerous ; and sev- 
 eral of those gentlemen who knew him intimately, in private 
 as well as public, have spontaneously given their opinions of 
 his character and mental endowments. As a means of ena- 
 bling the reader to estimate the integrity of the remarlis which 
 have been made, a few of those opinions the biographer ven- 
 tures to introduce, prefacing them by one which has already 
 appeared io print. 
 
 " Of Mr. Drew's personal character it is not easy to speak 
 too highly. He was not puffed up by the success which 
 crowned his unassisted eilbrts in the pursuit of letters ; and, 
 thougii Iiis superiority of mind was easily discernible in his 
 conversation, yet he was exceedingly unassuming and unosten- 
 tatious. His piety, like his habits generally, was not showy, 
 but it was consistent. He was a real Cliristian philosopher. 
 His understanding was of an elevated order. His mind was 
 richly endowed by nature, and it was highly cultivated by dili- 
 gent study, and by unwearied assiduity ; so that his society 
 was always a luxury both to the literate and the illiterate, to 
 the scholar and to the Christian. His philosophy and his 
 piety born immediately and equally on the happiness of life 
 and the daily habits of. mankind ; and they were equally free 
 from the pedantry of human learning, and from the solemn 
 and disgusting farce of a religious austerity. In the decease 
 of Adam. Clarke, and Richard Watson, and Samuel Drew, 
 the Methodist connection has lost three of its brightest lumi- 
 nacies. They have shone a while together in the church be- 
 low, and they have set nearly together ; but they are only set 
 to rise again, where suns and stars shall set no more."* 
 
 " In my interviews with Mr. Drew," observes a gentleman 
 with whom he was acquainted in London, " I have had fre- 
 quent opportunities of admiring his masterly mind, and the 
 facility with which he could enter into the most abstract specu- 
 lations of moral philosophy. and metaphysics ; so much so that 
 I have always considered him as the Locke of the nineteenth 
 century. I remember one particular instance in which I con- 
 sulted him on a proposed Essay on ' Human Motives,' when he 
 at once entered on the inquiry, and, by a train of the most lu- 
 minous and convincing arguments, proved the difficulty of doing 
 the subject justice, owing to the inconsistencies and anomalies 
 by which it was surrounded. I have often since regretted that 
 I did not commit his valuable observations to writing ; since, 
 from this omission, they have wholly escaped my memory. 
 
 • Christian Advocate, April 1, 1833. 
 
312 
 
 LIFE or SAUTEL DREW. 
 
 On every occasion I found him willing to open the stores of 
 his mind for my assistance ; and to his kindness I owe much 
 valuable information on subjects of moral philosophy." 
 
 " The longer," says the Rev. Dr. Townley, " I was honoured 
 with Mr. Drew's friendship, the more I admired him. His 
 vigour and grasp of intellect were united with such Christian 
 simplicity and genuine piety as placed him high in the scale 
 of intelligent beings ; while his singular modesty, and cheer- 
 fulness of disposition, joined to his exhaustless fund of anec- 
 dote and interesting information, rendered him a delightful 
 friend and companion." 
 
 Dr. Olinihus Gregory, whose discrimination will scarcely 
 be questioned, does not indeed, specify particulars, but sums up 
 his opinion of Mr. Drew in these words : — " He was a man 
 whose character exhibited an extraordinary union of tiie finest 
 intellectual and moral attributes of our nature, and whose 
 name, talents, and labours must be long held in high venera- 
 tion." 
 
 Davies Gilbert, Esq., in reply to the biographer's applica- 
 tion for the loan of any letters of Mr. D.'s writing, says, "I 
 shall be happy to do every thing in my power to assist you in 
 a work for commemorating one who has done so much honour 
 to our country, and who has been styled the English Plato." 
 
 It would be easy to quote letters of indiscriminate praise 
 from individuals little known ; but this would neither add to 
 Mr. Drew's reputation, nor enable the reader to form a correct 
 estimate of his talents. One of the these laudatory epistles, 
 now before the writer, by an amusing ellipsis, addresses Mr. 
 Drew as " Author of the Immortality of the Soul and Resur- 
 rection of the Body." The same attribute of Deity was as- 
 cribed to him in a public printed notice, in one of the northern 
 counties, announcing that a sermon was to be preached by him 
 on the anniversary of a charitable institution.* 
 
 We close this section with two letters of Mr. Drew to the 
 daughters of his friend Dr. Adam Clarke. One of these let- 
 ters is the last he ever wrote, except on personal topics ; and 
 
 * Mr. Drew once related; in his naturally humorous manner, that, 
 while sitting in a friend's house, in a considerable town in Devonshire, 
 his attention was arrested by the voice of the town crier in the street, 
 giving notice, with his usual formality, that " Mr. Drew, from Cornwall, 
 author of the mortalili/ and immorlali/y of the soul, will preach this even- 
 ing in the Methodist chapel." With him it was the occasion of a 
 smile ; but the rest of the company felt excessively mortified at the 
 strange misapprehension of their civic orator. 
 
ms INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER. 
 
 313 
 
 both will probably be esteemed a pleasing and valuable illus- 
 tration of his intellectual and religious character. 
 
 " 33 Xewgate-street, London, 
 "Dec. 15th, 1831. 
 " No, no, my dear friend. I have not forgotten you ; nor am 
 I altogether chargeable with that negligence with which I 
 imagine you have accused me. I must, however, acknowledge, 
 that appearances are against me ; for, on opening your letter, 
 since I began this, I am startled with its date, Nov. 10th, 
 which is now more than a month since, and therefore, perhaps, 
 it will be rather imprudent for me to say any thing more on 
 this subject. I was glad to learn from your letter thai you 
 reached your home in safety, and found all your family well. 
 Health is an invaluable blessing, for the loss of which no 
 worldly good can make us an adequate compensation. May 
 this inestimable blessing continue to you, and every member of 
 your family. 
 
 " In taking a survey of life and its vicissitudes, we cannot 
 avoid concluding, that the economy of God, in the moral gov 
 ernment of the world, is involved in impenetrable shadows 
 and encircled with clouds which nothing but the light of eter- 
 nity can dispel. A conviction, however, that we see but in 
 part, and know but in part, — that causes sometimes appeaf 
 without their effects, and, not unfrequently, effects without 
 their causes, — will reconcile us to t!ie gloomy dispensations of 
 Divine Providence, by furnishing us with an assurance of ' an- 
 other and a belter world.' In our present state, unmingled 
 gratification cannot be our lot ; nor, if it were attainable, wonld 
 it be congenial to the physical constitution of man, either men- 
 tal or corporeal. Nature requires a vicissitude of seasons ; 
 vegetation and animal nature demand repose ; and ail our en- 
 joyments derive a more acute relish from occasional interrup- 
 tions, and the reverses to which we are exposed : nor can we, 
 my friend, on this ground, presume to impeach the goodness 
 of God. We learn in the school of adversity many valuable 
 lessons, which prosperity could never teach; and are <lirected, 
 by what we sometimes endure, to weigh anchor, and look be- 
 yond this inclement clime, to some harbour in which 'tempests 
 •will not beat, rror oceans roar.' If nothing but. enjoyment 
 were allotted us here, we should be ready to say, ' Master, it 
 is good for us to be here,' and, pleased with our situation, for- 
 get that w-e are on a journey to the abodes of immortality! 
 Were human nature unpolluted by sin, uninterrupted enjoy- 
 
314 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 ment might suit its character ; this must now be reserved for a 
 state from which moral evil shall be for ever excluded. 
 * * * * * * 
 
 "But why, my friend, should you be surprised at any of the 
 events of this life, when you look around on the world in 
 which we live ? When the enemies of Daniel sought occasion 
 against liini, they turned his piety into an offence, and procured 
 for him a den of lions ! 
 
 " But my paper admonishes me that I have only just room 
 to desire my kind remembrance to Mr. Rowley, and to assure 
 his wife, that a letter from her will always be highly accept- 
 able to her sincere friend, and old acquaintance, 
 
 "Samuel Drew. 
 
 " Mrs. Rowley, Worcester.'" 
 
 " 15 Owen's Row, Goswell-street, 
 " January 8th, 1833. 
 
 "My very dear Friend, 
 " It has very generally been thought, and perhaps with 
 much reason, that the primary spring of action in Deity is be- 
 nevolence ; and, as a natural consequence, those among his 
 intelligent creatures bear the strongest resemblance to Him 
 who are actuated by the same exalted principle. The benev- 
 olence of Deity shines in creation, and may be traced in the 
 order and economy of Divine Providence. It was conspicu- 
 ous in the primeval stale of man, is more fully developed in 
 the principles of the gospel, but shines with still brighter lustre 
 in the effects produced by renovating grace on the human 
 heart. 
 
 "When benevolence was effaced by sin, M'ar, inhumanity, 
 oppression, and murder occupied its place : and to this source 
 we may trace the various miseries of human life. Earth, re- 
 newed in righteousness, will behold the dominion of benevo- 
 lence re-established. In heaven, hs empire knows no limits, 
 no interruption, and fears no termination. It binds all the ce- 
 lestial inhabitants in amity and love ; this being the sacred at- 
 mosph(!re which they inhale from the throne of the eternal 
 God. 
 
 " The progress of genuine religion may be fairly estimated 
 by the extension and prevalence of this godlike attribute. It 
 includes love to God, and love to man ; and must, therefore, 
 have its seal in the heart, while its blessed effects stand devel- 
 oped in the Christian's life. Considering the moral relation in 
 which we stand to the Father of the spirits of all flesh, and the 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 315 
 
 ground we occupy, both duty and interest urge us to promote its 
 influence. 
 
 " Be it, then, my dear friend, both your aim and mine to seek 
 and enjoy the love of God shed abroad in our hearts, that, hav- 
 ing this treasure in our earthen vessels, we may contemplate 
 with ecstasy, for ever, that sublime but incomprehensible ex- 
 pression — ' God is love.' 
 
 " Wishing, my dear friend, you and yours every blessing for 
 time and eternity, 
 
 "I remain, with sincere affection, 
 
 " Your old acquaintance and correspondent, 
 
 " Samuel Drew. 
 " Mrs. Richard Smith, Stoke-Xewington.'" 
 
 SECTION XXXII. 
 
 Char.icter of Mr. Drew's Writings. 
 
 Though presenting few attractions for superficial readers, 
 Mr. Drew's original treatises are too well known to the thinking 
 part of the community to require, in this place, minute exam- 
 ination. They have been long before the public, and from the 
 wisest and the best have received the meed of approbation. 
 Little, therefore, will be required of the biographer, but to offer 
 a few general remarks, and quote the opinions of more prac- 
 tised and competent judges than himself. 
 
 Among those sincere believers in Scripture who dare not 
 trust, even in matters of ordinary duty, to the inferences of 
 their own judgment, there is a prejudice against all attempts to 
 establish or confirm by reason any of the doctrines of rev- 
 elation. There are individuals also who, though accustomed 
 to the exercise of thought, seem to dread the application of 
 reason to matters of faith, lest its deductions should be substi- 
 tuted for the declarations of Scripture. Mr. Drew was obvi- 
 ously not of this number. All his publications tend to prove, 
 that reason, while it authenticates the canon, and directs us in 
 the interpretation of Scripture, leads to the conviction, that in 
 our relation to each other here, and to our Creator here and 
 hereafter, we need some other rule of conduct than is discov- 
 erable by nature's feeble and uncertain ray. 
 
316 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 Frequently does Mr. Drew remind his readers, and often did 
 he reiterate in the pulj)it, that at the precise point where unas- 
 sisted reason fails, and vague conjecture meets us on every 
 hand, the light of revelation, beaming upon our understandings, 
 dispels the glooiny uncertainty, and, "• shining brighter and 
 brighter unto tiie perfect day," leads on to "glory, immor- 
 tality, and eternal life." 
 
 In the preface to his Essay on the Soul, he says, " The great 
 repository of sacred knowledge is the Bible ; and, therefore, 
 moral philosophy can be no longer right than while it acts in 
 concert with revelation. I consider moral truth as an elevated 
 mountain, the summit of which revelation unveils to the eye 
 of faith, without involving us in the tedious drudgery of painful 
 speculations. To some of its subliniiiies philosophy will direct 
 us, through a labyrinth of intricacies ; but, after the human un- 
 derstanding has put forth all her efforts, it is ' by toil and art 
 the steep ascent we gain.' If, however, in any given momentous 
 instance, the tardy movements of philosophy will lead us to 
 the same conclusions that the Bible has already formed, it 
 affords us no contemplible evidence of its authenticity: and 
 hence, revelation challenges our belief in those instances where 
 we can trace no connection." 
 
 "Scriptural principles," it is remarked, by a student of Mr. 
 D.'s works, " are interwoven through the whole of his multi- 
 farious labours ; and, in addition to liis well-earned reputation 
 of sound philosophy, must be added the delightful thought, that 
 the sum and substance of his argumeiitatifm, elaborate and co- 
 gent as it is, accords with the dictates of eternal truth. In the 
 perusal of Mr. Drew's works, this is felt by every reader capa- 
 ble of thinking ; and none but such need be at the trouble of 
 examination ; for without thought, properly pursued, they can 
 be neither relished nor comprehended." 
 
 The opinion of Mr. Whitaker, in his critique on Mr. Drew's 
 earliest publication, cannot be attributed to the partiality of 
 friendship, or the condescension of patronage. No intimacy 
 subsisted prior to the appearance of the pamphlet; and the 
 critic informs the author, that the favourable article in the Anti- 
 Jacobin was written " in the fulness of his heart," on the pe- 
 rusal of the " Remarks :"— it therefore expresses his unbiased 
 opinion. " We here behold," he observes, "a shoemaker of 
 St. Austell encountering a stayiiiaker of Deal, with the same 
 weapons of unlettered reiison, teiupered, indeed, from the ar- 
 mory of God, yet deriving their principal power from the iia- 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 317 
 
 live vigour of the arm that wields them. Samuel Drew, how- 
 ever, is greatly superior to Thomas Paine in the justness of 
 his remarks, in the foreibleness of his arguments, and in the 
 pointedness of his refutations." 
 
 It is equally pleasing to know that this little work was not 
 whhoiit iis use. A distinguished Wesleyan minister says, 
 " When I was stationed at Blackburn, there were in that town 
 many professed disciples of Paine. Several of them acknow- 
 ledged, that Mr. Drew's answer to the first part of the ' Age of 
 Reason' had made more impression on their minds, and occa- 
 sioned them more difficulty in attempting to reply to its argu- 
 ments, than any other work that had fallen into their hands." 
 
 The origin, progress, and success of the " Essay on the 
 Immateriality and Immortality of the Human Soul," — the work 
 which established Mr. Drew's fame as a metaphysical writer 
 and powerful reasoner, — has been traced in an earlier page : 
 his motives for giving it to the world we gather from his own 
 preface. 
 
 " The ground on which I have assumed the present question 
 is simply this — Have we, or have we not, any rational evidence 
 of the soul's immortality, admitting that no revelation had ever 
 been given us from God ? If we have, this branch of infidelity 
 loses one of its strongest fortresses ; if not, all rational proof 
 of the immortality of the soul is at once done away. 
 
 "A subject so abstruse in its nature, and whose conse- 
 quences extend to a future state of being, must necessarily im- 
 press some obscurities on the manner of its investigation ; I 
 have avoided all in my power, and yet many, perhaps, remain. 
 It must, however, be remembered, that our inability to compre- 
 hend the reasoning by which a fact may be established, is no 
 more an argument against its legitimacy than it is against the 
 fact itself. The ploughshare of reason, may be driven among 
 the rocks of error, although every reader may not be able to 
 discern the furrow which it makes. 
 
 "Wheiher the present work, like those bubbles on the pass- 
 ing stream which float along and then expire, will engross the 
 attention of mankind only for a moment, and then disappear — 
 or pass onward to ages which its author can never reach — are 
 points which events can alone decide. I have not vanity enough 
 to presume, that infallibility has impressed her footsteps upon 
 the paragraphs which I have written ; the arguments, however, 
 D d 2 
 
318 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 are such as have produced conviction in my mind, from a per- 
 suasion ihat they arise Crom the nature of the soul, and the fixed 
 relation of things. 1 have attempted to erect this fabric on such 
 facts and propositions as are incontrovertible, and have endeav- 
 oured to trace the intermediate ideas which appeared to stand 
 in accordance with one another, to that conclusion which I had 
 in view. 
 
 " Should what I have written be made instrumental in re- 
 claiming but one from the fangs of infidelity, or in preventing 
 another from becoming its victim, it vvill afford me a consola- 
 tion which will accompany me through life, and, I hope, be re- 
 membered with gratitude through all eternity." 
 
 The first critical notice of the Essay on the Soul appeared 
 in the Anti-Jacobin Review, for February, 1803. In this there 
 is no attempt at analysis, but a general admission of the intrin- 
 sic merit of the work. 
 
 " This Essay," says the Reviewer, " is introduced to the 
 world under the auspices of the Rev. Jolui Whitaker, the great 
 and good rector of Ruan-Lanyhorne ; to whom it is dedicated 
 in a very handsome manner. The address, indeed, is well 
 conceived, and well expressed. The preface is elegant and 
 appropriate. 
 
 " We cannot pretend to decide absolutely on the degree of 
 merit which it possesses ; or the rank which it will hereafter 
 hold in the metaphysical world. We have discovered, we 
 think, a few errors in the reasoning; but we have found much 
 to applaud, much to admire. Of his subject, in general, the 
 author is a master. While we are struck with a chain of ar- 
 gumentation strong and beautiful, we are assured that this is 
 the production of no common writer. And, in thus connecting 
 ihe author with his work, we cannot but recollect, with wonder, 
 that he is the untutored child of nature; deriving no advantage 
 from education ; indebted only and immediately to Heaven for 
 a reach of thought astonishingly great ! — for a mind to which 
 all the matter of the universe seems but an atom; and in him- 
 self exhibiting a splendid proof, that the soul of man is im- 
 mortal .'" 
 
 In the Annual Review, for April, 1804, the Essay is criticised 
 at great length, and its contents are thus analyzed. 
 
 " This Essay is divided into two parts. The first treats of 
 the immateriality, and the second of the immortality, of the 
 human soul. In reviewing the properties of matter, the author 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 319 
 
 endeavours to establish, that every thing in nature is inchided 
 within the confines of matter and spirit ; that man is a being 
 compounded of both ; that soli(hty, magnitude, figure, and ex- 
 tension are essential to matter; that spiritual substances may 
 exist ; that substance is susceptible of definition ; ihat iis posi- 
 tive existence may be deduced from those qualities of mind 
 which have no positive existence, as volition, judgment, and 
 perception ; tliai thinking is neither essential to matter, nor its 
 result, or modification ; and that consciousness is not a quality 
 superadded to matter. From the properties of spirit, accord- 
 ing to Mr. Drew, it necessarily follows, that no created being 
 can fully comprehend itself; that a principle of consciousness 
 is essentially immaterial ; that no divisible being is capable of 
 consciousness ; that the latter, is not an adventitious acquisition ; 
 that matter cannot abstract; that the soul of man is intelligent, 
 can anticipate, is not an assemblage of independent properties; 
 that its immaterial nature is proved by those affections and in- 
 tellectual endowments which are inherent in it ; and that, though 
 sensation may be annihilated, the human soul cannot undergo 
 destruction. 
 
 " In the second part of his work, the author proceeds to ex- 
 amine the nature, modes, and possibility of the annihilation of 
 mind ; and to state and illustrate various and subtle arguments, 
 from which it is inferred that the thinking principle cannot per- 
 ish by dissolution, privation, or annihilation. 
 
 "If, in treating some of the most abstract questions which can 
 agitate the mind of man, he has unconsciously adopted the 
 sentiments of some of his most celebrated precursors, and par- 
 ticularly (as it strikes us) of Baxter, the coincidence cannot 
 detract from his sagacity ; and if the first metaphysicians who 
 have ever appeared have failed in securing the unqualified as- 
 sent of the thinking part of their species, it would be unreason- 
 able to expect that Mr. Drew should have laboured with more 
 abundant success. Whoever peruses his publication with can- 
 dour and attention will at least regard it as an extraordinary 
 effort of untutored genius, and, on that account, entitled to the 
 admiration of the lettered and philosophical world." 
 
 We have elsewhere noticed, that neither Mr. Drew's Essay 
 on the Identity and General Resurrection of the Body, nor his 
 later work on the Being, Attributes, and Providence of God, 
 obtained the general notice of the reviewers. Notwithstanding 
 this paucity of critical remark, the general scope of the treatise 
 
320 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 on the Resurrection may be found in the author's introductory 
 observations. 
 
 " On a doctrine so important, so astonishing, and so abstruse 
 as the Resurrection of the human Body, no one can doubt that 
 difficulties of a most formidable nature liave occurred. He, 
 therefore, who expects to find in the work before him all ob- 
 stacles totally removed, and the fact substantiated by demon- 
 strative evidence, may rest himself assured that he will be dis- 
 appointed. Demonstration may, perhaps, be demonstrated to 
 be unattainable in the present case. It is therefore the height 
 of folly to look for indubitable certainty, when the nature of 
 the subject points out to us the reason why it cannot be attained. 
 
 " Sensitive proof can apply only to objects of sense ; and 
 demonstration is confined to such points as are brought into 
 immediate contact with our principles of intuition. But neither 
 oral nor historical testimony can afford any higher evidence 
 than moral certainty. This species of proof has, nevertheless, 
 an undoubted claim upon our assent, though partially destitute 
 of those essential ingredients which are necessary to create 
 positive knowledge. Indeed, even probability, where no better 
 evidence is attainable, has a demand on our belief. And he 
 who, in this case, would withhold his assent from a given fact 
 because the evidence adduced rose no higher, must violate the 
 principles of his intellectual nature, and disbelieve through un- 
 reasonable incredulity. 
 
 " That the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall 
 be changed, — and that all who are in their graves shall come 
 forth, — are declarations so plainly recorded in Scripture, that 
 no one who admits its authority can doubt the fact. And I 
 should readily allow every argument to be superfluous which 
 might be drawn from other sources, if all those persons to 
 whom we appeal, were to admit the authenticity of the sacred 
 volume. Unhappily, this is not the case. Men of skeptical 
 minds smile at those arguments which are founded on authority. 
 To that which is human they refuse to submit, and they doubt 
 the existence of that which is divine. To substitute, therefore, 
 the letter of Scripture in the room of philosophical disquisition, 
 would be to erect a tribunal which they refuse to acknowledge, 
 and to appeal to an authority which they spurn with contempt. 
 
 " With these views, I have presumed but little on Scripture 
 authority. Such passages as I have quoted, I have surveyed 
 in a philosophical light, and thus collected a mass of evidence 
 which, when taken in the aggregate, 1 flatter myself, will si- 
 lence contempt where it cannot produce conviction. The 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 321 
 
 proofs which I have adduced in support of the Resurrection 
 may be considered in two lights : first, those which, though 
 drawn from other sources, have been found congenial wiih the 
 principles of revelation ; and secondly, such as the philosophy 
 of the sacred writings has held out to illuminate mankind. 
 And if, from the result of all, the fact shall appear to be so 
 far rescued from objections, and placed in such a light, as to 
 be rendered morally certain, I shall not think that I have writ- 
 ten in vain." 
 
 The important topic thus propounded is treated in the fol- 
 lowing order : 
 
 After a general view of the subject, and of the nature and 
 perfections of Deity, the author proceeds to show, that, from 
 God's immutability and man's primeval state, the human body 
 must have been originally immortal, and that this immortality, 
 notwithstanding the natural tendency of the parts to dissolution, 
 was secured by the efficacy of the tree of life. He then con- 
 siders the positive effect of moral evil upon the body, and ar- 
 gues, that when moral evil is done away, as the perfecting act 
 of the great work of redemption, all its positive effects must cease, 
 and man, in reference to death, will be placed in his original cir- 
 cumstances,— death having "no more dominion over him." 
 
 The resurrection of the body being thus viewed as a neces- 
 sary result of the destruction of sin, the question of identity 
 immediately presents itself. This the author considers in a 
 chapter allotted to its investigation — first generally, and then 
 in reference to the human body. From this he proceeds to 
 trace, at length, the analogy between vegetation and the resur- 
 rection. He thence argues, that the resurrection has fewer 
 difficulties than vegetation — that the objections usually ad- 
 vanced against the one may be equally applied to the other — • 
 that, as seed-time and harvest cannot be blended, so time must 
 elapse between death and the resurrection — and that St. Paul, 
 when illustrating the doctrine of the resurrection by the vegeta- 
 tive process, spoke the language of sound philosophy. 
 
 That bodily identity must consist in some immoveable germ, 
 or stamen, is endeavoured to be proved positively and nega- 
 tively. The affirmative of this proposition is deduced from 
 various considerations. It is shown negatively, that the identity 
 of our future bodies cannot consist in the presence of all the 
 numerical particles which at any given time constituted the 
 body ; and it is inferred analogically, that the changes through 
 which our bodies are continually passing may be assumed as 
 
322 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 one degree of proof that we shall rise again. Various objec- 
 tions are anticipated and met ; and, in a final summary of the 
 arguments used througliout the volume, the reader is conducted 
 from the bare possibility that the same body may live again, 
 to the certainty that there «AaH 6e a resurrection both of the just 
 and of the unjust. 
 
 Upon this much questioned dogma of the Christian faith, Mr. 
 Drew did not aim at demonstration. In his view, it was suf- 
 ficient to rebut the philosophical objections to the credibility 
 of the doctrine — to show that it involved no contradiction or 
 absurdity — and to rest its assurance upon the declarations of 
 Scripture. 
 
 In the British Critic, vol. 35, this treatise is thus character- 
 ized. 
 
 " Of the elaborate performance which now solicits our atten- 
 tion, we know not how to convey to our readers any adequate 
 idea. It is a chain of argumentation so regular, so close, and 
 so strong, that to break off a link from it, and exhibit that link, 
 would show, indeed, of what metal, the work was made, but 
 would answer no other purpose. That it will not admit of 
 abridgment or analysis is the highest character that can be 
 given to any literary composition. Such is the case with Mr. 
 Drew's." 
 
 Of the Essay on the Being and Attributes of God, — a work 
 respecting which Mr. Drew has more than once remarked, 
 " Though it seems little known, yet I am persuaded it is by far 
 the best I ever wrote," — the only critique of which we are 
 aware is that already noticed as having appeared in the Inves- 
 tigator. The work is there spoken of in terms of high appro- 
 bation, and a very complete analysis given, which our limits will 
 not admit. We quote only a few paragraphs. 
 
 " The work to which we would now direct the attention of our 
 readers is divided into four parts. These are, 1. Arguments a 
 priori; 2. Mixed arguments and arguments dpo*/erion ; 3. Di- 
 vine Providence asserted and vindicated ; and, 4. Proofs from 
 Revelation. In order to form a notion of the vast penetration 
 and profound capacity of the author, we need only read the 
 table of contents ; but an attentive perusal of the work itself 
 will reward the intelligent reader with an expansion of his ideas, 
 to an extent not usually derivable from books on similarly ab- 
 stract subjects. A new direction will be given to his medita- 
 tions ; and, pleased with a strength of thought and variety of 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 323 
 
 topics altogether new, it cannot fail, we should think, to rouse 
 his energies, stimulate his efforts, and awaken his ardour in the 
 pursuit of knowledge. 
 
 " The first part sets out with the argument d priori, to prove 
 the necessary existence of one, and of only one, uncreated, un- 
 derived, and self-existent Being. Philosophers in general sup- 
 pose its demonstration ii posteriori the plainest, and therefore 
 set out upon that plan ; but our author's mind, original and in- 
 tuitive, found no inconvenience in entering upon the most diffi- 
 cult mode of arguing first. What costs other men many ef- 
 forts often seems, indeed, scarcely to cost him a single thought. 
 
 " The topics of his argument are all of them either interest- 
 ing, new, or handled in a new method. Entity and non- 
 entity, — motion, space, number, and duration, — body, darkness, 
 and the like, — are the materials which he uses, with as much 
 facility as the mechanic does his tools, to adorn and to em- 
 bellish a subject in itself abstract, subtle, and illusory. But 
 the pen, which his native and energetic genius guides with bold 
 and masterly strokes, make's all plain, luminous, and perspicu- 
 ous, even to ordinary capacities. 
 
 "Our author proceeds, in the same acute, original, and 
 masterly manner, to prove that ' the material world cannot 
 exist in an absolute nonentity.' We say, this section is origi- 
 nal and masterly, because, as far as we know, the argument has 
 never before been stated in its present clear and convincing 
 form. It is then proved, that motion cannot exist in an absolute 
 nonentity ; and we might safely appeal to the readers of the 
 work, whether any of the philosophers who have defined the 
 laws of motion ever discussed those laws, in their bearing on 
 the present proposition, in the manner in which Mr. Drew has 
 stated them. This alone would prove his claim to originality. 
 
 "The subject of space is touched with singular ability; the 
 thoughts are all the author's own, and he presents this propo- 
 sition in various lights to the reader ; arguing with a degree of 
 penetration which justly claims for his work a very high place 
 among the treatises on abstract science. 
 
 " Our author's views of number are acute, and yet accurate, 
 Uhough original. Every view he takes of this intricate subject 
 I is luminous and his own ; nor do we find it so philosophically 
 handled in any of the treatises published by arithmeticians. 
 Stated in his own way, his definitions and deductions carrj' the 
 reader along with him, both convinced and pleased. 
 
 "In perusing the third part of this work, we find the subject 
 becomes more subtle, intricate, and abstruse than in those 
 
324 
 
 tlFE OF SAMDEL DKEW. 
 
 which precede. Here, however, we pre-eminently trace the 
 skilful hand of the auihor, conducting us through lal)yrinths and 
 windings, both devious and difficult. The author sets before 
 us the immediate superintendence of God, sustaining every 
 thing he has made ; and the omniscience of God, knowing 
 every volition of free agents with perfect certainty. In this 
 view, matter and mind appear to be alike the objects of that 
 providence which presides over all. Matter and mind, in their 
 simple existence, and in their laws and operations, aie alike 
 subject to the upholding and governing providence of God. 
 
 " In part the fourth, we are presented with proofs of the 
 being, perfections, and providence of God, from revelation ; 
 and we venture to add, that many of our readers will find their 
 faith in God much comforted, strengthened, and confirmed by 
 their perusal. 
 
 • " Upon the whole, we confidently recommend these two 
 volumes to the notice of the public, and congratulate society 
 upon receiving such a boon. We hope the work will be 
 admitted into the divinity halls of'the United Kingdom, as a 
 class-book for young divines ; and confidently add, that the 
 classes of moral philosophy will find it to their advantage 
 to bestow some time in perusing it." 
 
 To these public criticisms on Mr. Drew's metaphysical 
 treatises, it may not be improper to add the private sentiments 
 of two or three well-known literary characters. 
 
 Dr. Kidd, in a letter to the biographer, remarks, "I never 
 saw any work so profound, yet so intelligible, as your father's 
 Prize Essay. His work on the Soul is truly wonderful, and 
 nothing like it was ever published. His work on the Resurrec- 
 tion of the Identical Body is very masterly ; quite original and 
 acute ; though more laboured than any other of his pro- 
 ductions." 
 
 A gentleman of Cambridge says, in a letter to Mr. Drew, 
 "I saw Mr. Hall, the dissenting mitiister, at Leicester, and I 
 mentioned your name. I found that he had read your work on 
 the Immortality, «S^,c. of the Soul ; and he spoke of it in 
 a manner that was very pleasing to me to hear."^ 
 
 Mr. Morris, in his " Biographical Recollections of Robe 
 Hall, A.M.," states, that wlien the late Dr. Mason, of New- 
 York, was on a visit to Mr. Hall, "among other English 
 authors who became the topic of conversation, was the late 
 excellent Samuel Drew, whose metaphysical writings, well 
 known in America, were mentioned with high commendation. 
 Mr. Hall, however, concurred in opinion with Dr. Mason, that 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 325 
 
 hey contain some positions that are liable to strong objections, 
 particularly tliat wliich affirms tlie utter impossibility ol' the an- 
 nihilation of matter. Of the two principal performances of this 
 able and original writer, that on the Identity of the Resurrection- 
 body was considered as by far the best, and which had been 
 reprinted at New-York. The critics both agreed that Drew was 
 deficient in perspicuity, though one of the first writers of the 
 age ; while in metaphysical acumen he was not fully equal to 
 President Edwards."* 
 
 Mr. Drew's minor publications it will not be necessary to 
 notice. His History of Cornwall has been already considered, 
 in Section XX. ; and to the opinions there expressed we have 
 only to add the sentiments of one who, being himself an his- 
 torian and an antiquarian, is quulified to decide, — "that Mr. 
 Drew's County History, though not exempt from error, is the 
 best that has yet been written." 
 
 Whether any formal opinion was passed apon his Biography 
 of Dr. Coke we are ignorant. In the absence of minute criticism, 
 we may state briefly, that the volume is characterized by much 
 original thought, a spirit of rational piety, great keenness of 
 discrimination, and numerous philosophical reflections, evi- 
 dently proceeding from a mind that fully grasps its subject. 
 The writer has executed, with fidelity, sound judgment, and 
 good taste, a delicate and difficult task. 
 
 The Imperial Magazine, which Mr. Drew edited from its 
 commencement in 1819 to the last month of his life, was 
 intended to embrace a greater variety of subjects than a merely 
 religious periodical ; and yet to be more decidedly religious, 
 in the best sense of the expression, than most of the monthly 
 publications which minister to the public curiosity. To the 
 fulfilment of this design its numerous readers can bear witness. 
 In a letter to the editor, dated 1820, Dr. Olinthus Gregory says, 
 "I congratulate you very cordially upon the reputation and 
 success of the Imperial Magazine, and upon that real value, as 
 a periodical work, which has obtained for it that reputation and 
 that success. For my own part, I prefer it to any other of our 
 
 I * To give Mr. Drew, a known Arminian, the next place to President 
 Edwards, is no small praise, from one who, like Ur. Mason, held the ten- 
 ets of Calvin. In the opinion of most other critics, ^ jierspicmly' is an es- 
 pecial characteristic of Mr. Drew's metaphysical writings. It may be also 
 right to state, that the impossibility of the annihilation of matter Mr. D. 
 nowhere asserts. He only contends that the essence of matter is naturally 
 imperishable. 
 
326 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 miscellaneous publications issuing monthly, and I have therefore 
 given it my humble recommendation." 
 
 Notwithstanding this testimonial, we do not recur with un- 
 raingled salisfaciion to the period of Mr. Drew's connection 
 with this miscellany. However well qualified for the editorial 
 office, it was not adapted to bring his peculiar talents into vigo- 
 rous exercise. It cannot be truly said, that, in this occupation, 
 the intellectual flower was "born to blush unseen;" but there 
 was an apparent misapplication of mental power. Knowing the 
 previous achievements of his rare faculty for abstract investiga- 
 tion, and the lofiy subjects which he contemplated, one cannot 
 but deplore it as a public loss, that his energies should have 
 been wasted on inferior objects. Still, the step which thus as- 
 signed him an occupation for the residue of his life was taken 
 deliberately and advisedly. We know little of the contingencies 
 dependent on his decision ; and the presumption is, that the 
 course pursued was, on the whole, the wisest and the best. 
 
 Those publications in which Mr. Drew's name did not ap- 
 pear, though chiefly the fruit of his labours, it does not fall 
 within our jirovince to describe^ yet their enumeration may be 
 thought an act of justice to him and to the public. In this enu- 
 meration we do not include the works on which his pen was 
 employed during his connection with the Caxton Press. — 
 Thouoh there were few publications issued by that establish- 
 ment, from 1819 to 1883, upon which his talents were not 
 engaged ; yet, as his name seldom appeared on their title- 
 pages, and he never informed his family how far his personal 
 labour extended, they cannot, except the Imperial Magazine, 
 be with certainty particularized. His acknowledged publica- 
 tions, and the date of their appearance, are as follow: — 
 
 Remarks on the First Part of Paine's Age of Reason. 1799. 
 Elegy on the death of Mr. John Patterson, who was drowned 
 
 at Wadebridge, in Cornwall. 1800. 
 Observations on a Pamphlet lately published by the Rev. R. 
 
 Polwhele, entitled Anecdotes of Methodism. 1800. 
 A Letter to the Friend of the Church. 1801. 
 An Original Essay on the Immalcrialily and Immortality of the , 
 
 Human Soul, founded solely on Physical and Rational 
 
 Principles. 1802. 
 A Conversation between a Deist and a Christian. 1807. 
 An Essay on the Identity and General Resurrection of the 
 
 Human Body. 1809. 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 327 
 
 Scriptural and Philosophical Arguments to prove the Divinity 
 of Christ, and the Necessity of his Atonement. 1813. 
 
 The Divinity of Christ, and the Necessity of his Atonement, 
 vindicated from tiie Cavils of Mr. Thomas Prout and his 
 Associates. 1814. 
 
 The Life of the liev. Thomas Coke, LL.D. 18 17. 
 
 The History of Cornwall, from the earliest Records and Tra- 
 ditions to the Present Time. 2 vols. 4to. 1815 to 1824. 
 
 An Attempt to demonstrate, from Reason and Revelation, the 
 Necessary Existence, Essential Perfections, and Super- 
 intending Providence of an Eternal Being, who is the 
 Creator, the Supporter, and the Governor of all things. 
 2 vols. 1820. 
 
 Of the following works, bearing the name of Thomas 
 Coke, LL.D., Mr. Drew was virtually or principally the 
 author : — 
 
 A Commentary on the New Testament. 2 vols. 4to. 1807. 
 
 The Recent Occurrences of Europe, considered in relation to 
 T'ropiiecy fulfilled and unfulfilled. 1808. 
 
 A History of the West Indies, Natural, Civil, and Ecclesias- 
 tical ; with an account of the Missions instituted in those 
 Islands. 3 vols, 1808 to 1811. 
 
 A History of the Old and New Testaments (a part only pub- 
 lished). 1809. 
 
 Si.\ Letters, in Reply to the Rev. Melville Home, in Defence 
 of the Doctrines of Justification by Faith and the Witness of 
 the Spirit. 1810. 
 
 The Cottager's Bible, containing a short Exposition and Prac- 
 tical Reflections on each chapter. 4to. 1810. 
 
 Prepared in MS. but not published : — 
 
 A Series of Letters to the Rev. G. F. Nott, B.D., vindicating 
 Mr. Wesley and his Colleagues from the misrepresentations 
 contained in his Sermons at the Bampion Lecture, entitled 
 "Religious Enthusiasm Considered." 1806. 
 
 A System of Natural Philosophy, deduced from the Newtonian 
 theory and the most recent discoveries. 1807. 
 
 Amid these numerous works, it is upon his original treatises 
 on the Soul, on the Body, and on the Being and Attributes of 
 God, that Mr. Drew's literary reputation chiefly rests. In these 
 
328 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 the powers of his mind are fully exhibited. Here he stands 
 forth singly and conspicuously from the republic of letters, in 
 all his originality and depth of thought, establishing for himself, 
 as a metaphysician, a philosopher, and a divine, a distinct and 
 an enduring character. 
 
 In the subjoined letter, received after the MS. of this volume 
 was complete, the sentiments of the preceding paragraphs are 
 confirmed and amplified. 
 
 "Aberdeen, 30th Sept., 1833. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " By this time I presume you have finished the biography of 
 your worthy father. I doubt much whether you ever knew the 
 extent of your father's capacity as a metaphysician : — few men, 
 in the present day, were able fully to appreciate the genius of 
 Samuel Drew. His want of conspicuous standing in society, 
 and, most, his want of a proper academical education, prevented 
 the native vigour of his soaring mind from appearing in hs 
 full splendour, and his works from being read by the learned 
 in colleges and universities. — Yet 1 think, in time, they will 
 find their way into the schools of learning, not only in JBriiain, 
 but throughout the whole republic of letters. 
 
 " In his Essay upon the Immateriality and Immortality of 
 the Human Soul, he had Locke as a guide; and yet, in many 
 things, lie has exceeded his master. In his Essay on the Be- 
 ing and Attributes of the Deity, he had Clarke before him ; 
 and he is far more profound than Clarke on that sublime 
 subject. But in his Essay upon the Identity and Resurrection 
 of the Human Body he had no guide. Here his whole capacity 
 is shown, in its native energy and power of thought ; here 
 his vigorous mind displays its great natural resources, in un- 
 folding a subject so deep and so interesting. In this he appears 
 Samuel Drew indeed : yet this is the least known of all his 
 works. 
 
 " His becoming editor of the Imperial Magazine added no 
 lustre cither to his genius or reputation as a writer: — the sub- 
 jects which he handled in this undertaking were too trivial and 
 multifarious for his towering mind. From the time he came 
 to London, he was too much taken up in the bustle, and busi- 
 ness, and splendour of the capital — the Welsh eagle lost his 
 wings, and no more soared aloft from his wild mountains. 
 The day will come, when your father's native and self-taught 
 genius will appear to the learned ; and Justice will be done to 
 his writings after he is long in the grave. 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS WKITINGS. 
 
 329 
 
 "While I live, I shall always retain a grateful remembrance 
 of your father, whom I never saw. I can yet look back to St. 
 Austell, the place where my first letter found him, with a feel- 
 ing oi' regard ; and with that tie of sympathy which cannot be 
 broken,, continue my affection for the memory of Samuel Drew. 
 
 "Ever yours, 
 
 "James Kidd. 
 
 ''Mr. J. IL Drew, St. Austell" 
 
 Upon Mr. Drew's style of writing, few remarks are neces- 
 sary. Tliougl) exhibiting beauties that often excited admiration, 
 it was not faultless. An over-scrupulousness in the choice of 
 expression sometimes invested it wiih an air of siili'ness and 
 formality. It was, perhaps, too iDl'iy for coniinon tojiics, and 
 too figurative for ahsiiact discussion. From an evident par- 
 tiality to poetical ami pciipluaslic modes of speech, there was 
 sometimes, notwithstanding the general perspicuity of his writ- 
 ings, a difTusencss and eiicumlofution in his expressi( iis not 
 consistent wiih good taste. Yet frequently his words vvere 
 terse and pointed, and rarely could iluy be misunderstood. 
 Probably it would be haznnlous to assert that this style was 
 natural, hike another individual of high intellectual powers, 
 whose death has left a blank,* Mr. Drew, in the early period 
 of his literary pursuits, was an admirer and imitator of Dr. 
 Johnson. Uneducated and unassisted, yet resolved to abandon 
 liis former grovelling views and language, he chose the author 
 of Rasselas as a model, and, without a consciousness of im- 
 propriety, followed him until his style was confirmed. 
 
 To his language in the pulpit little cxfcijiion can be taken. 
 There the rigid rules of argumentation aie so far relaxed as to 
 give scope to the imaginative powers— there the embellish- 
 ments of poetic diction are not only allowable, but in perfect 
 harmony with impassioned appeals to the hearers — and there 
 the loftiest style is fully sustained by the dignity of the subject. 
 Many who read these lines will remember, that often, when, 
 as a preacher, Mr. D. has felt the engrossing interest which 
 such an olDce communicates, and, leaving beneath him sublu- 
 nary concerns, has soared into intellectual and spiritual regions, 
 his expressions have risen in sublimity and grandeur, until 
 they appeared almost to vie with the words of inspiration. 
 
 Although figurative language is less adapted for a metaphy- 
 sical treatise than for a pulpit address, it must not be inferred 
 
 * Rev. Robert Hall, A.M. 
 Ee2 
 
330 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL DREW. 
 
 that ill Mr. Drew's writings it is always a defect. However 
 unsuited to mere abstract discussion, there are occasions, even 
 in such works, where this embellishnnent may be used with the 
 happiest effect ; and few writers have been more successful in 
 exhibiting the needful precision of thought, while clodiing an un- 
 imaginative subject with the attractions of language. Through- 
 out his works there are numerous passages, the words of which 
 have been felt by every reader to be exquisitely appropriate. The 
 concluding paragraph of the preface to the fifth edition of his 
 Essay on the Soul may suffice as an example. We select it, 
 not merely as a specimen of Mr. Drew's style — of pathos and 
 beauty not generally surpassed, — but, from the prophetic spirit 
 whicli seems to have guided his pen, and led him to anticipate 
 an e?rly liberation from the shackles and infirmities of this mor- 
 tal state, we adopt it as a fitting conclusion for these imperfect 
 remarks. 
 
 "Advancing in years, the author's probationary period is 
 drawing to a close ; and the crisis cannot be reinote that will 
 dismiss his spirit from its earthly abct'e to ilie regions of im- 
 mortality. Associating then with the disembodied, detached 
 from all material organization, there can be no doubt that he 
 will see much reason to alter many of his views respecting the 
 momentous subject on which he has written. He, however, 
 concludes this preface under a full conviction, that, although 
 unable to communicate any corrections of what he may then 
 discover to be erroneous in his Essay, he shall have new evi- 
 dence, bursting upon him like a tide of glory, to establish be- 
 yond the possibility of a doubt, THE IMMATERIALITY 
 AND IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN SOUL." 
 
 To this quotation, and to our attempted though defective 
 sketch, we add, with full conviction of its truth, the observation 
 of a literary friend, " It will ever be the works, and not the 
 BiOGRAPHKR, that Will thow the gemus and capacity of Samuel 
 Drew." 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SAVINGS, OPINIONS, AND CONVERSATIONAL RE- 
 MARKS OF MR. DREW. 
 
 L\ presenting the reader with the following gleaninsrs, it may 
 be necessary to premise, that the Conversational Remarks be- 
 ing chiefly related from memory, the biographer ci-uno; vouch, 
 in every instance, for the exact form of expression. The ob- 
 servations are, notwithstanding, substantially correct ; and, in 
 general, they are given in Mr. Drew's own words. 
 
 On the modes of argumentation wliich demonstrate the exist- 
 ence of a great First Cause, Mr. D. remarked to a metaphysical 
 correspondent, "The various arguments which the visible crea- 
 tion affords are, without doubt, the most popular, and are better 
 adapted to the comprehension of the general mass of readers. 
 But such as are drawn from existence itself, independently of all 
 effects, and works, and designs, must be more convincing to such 
 as can comprehend them ; because, being confined within a short 
 compass, the demonstration will have fewer steps, and con- 
 sequently be less liable to cavils." 
 
 In reference to the theological tenets of Dr. Samuel Clarke, 
 Mr. Drew writes, " This is one of the dangerous rocks to which 
 we are exposed, in the distant ex' ursions we are tempted to 
 make in pursuit of knowledge ; and we rarely fail to split upon 
 it, whenever we suffer the light of philosophy to allure us into 
 regions which lie beyond her province. True philosophy will 
 tell us where true philosophy ends ; and the instant we obey her 
 dictates, we admit on the ground of revelation those truths 
 which Dr. C, by following the directions of a coasting pilot, 
 was templed to deny." 
 
332 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Talking of the various gradations of infidelity, Mr. Drew re- 
 marked, " It is the grand error of Deism to make reason the 
 ultimate judge, not only of the fads contained in revelation, but 
 of the nature of those facts, and the vianner in which they exist. 
 Socinianism is nolbhig more than Deism refined. It takes 
 shelter under the letter of revelation, and is the more dangerous 
 because it is the more specious." 
 
 On the doctrine of the Atonement, he observed, in corre- 
 sponding with a friend, " It .strikes me, that we sustain towards 
 God the joint character of crinmials and debtors. Our criminality 
 requires an expiation to be made ; but, if we be not considered 
 in the light of debtors also, I caiiuol caiicei\e how it can be 
 reconciled with mo'c-A justice that God should accept the innocent 
 for the guilty." 
 
 Writing to a relative on the subject of faith, he remarked, 
 "Between our safely and our enjni.mcnt there is an essential 
 difference. Our safety depends upon ihe r^auineness or qualily 
 of our faith; our enjoyment, upon iis strongth or <p(antity. 
 Forgetting this distinction, many mourn when they have more 
 reason to rejoice. Our safety is coiuiectod by faith with the 
 efhcacy of the alont'ment ; and if faith be genuine, though, 
 througli its weakness, our enjoyment may be little, yet, as it 
 unites us to t!ie Saviour, our felicity in an eternal woild v.'ill be 
 secure, even while we pass the time of our sojourning here in 
 fear." 
 
 A young lady lamenting to him the weakness of her faith, 
 "Recollect," said Mr. D., "that among all Bunyan's pilgiims 
 there was but one Great-heart." 
 
 "I am so tried and tempted," said a very sincere person, in 
 his hearing, " th;tt ] fe;;r 1 shall never hold f.ist my profession."— 
 " Let this thought ( nemn agc you,' lie. obse rved,—'- The tempta- 
 tions of to-day, if re.- if ted, \viU l»:;u much of their force to- 
 morrow. Neitlier let this roii-oilcn, as a v arning, — Once 
 yield to a temptation, and il -.i !1 aiquire double strength." 
 
 Some one observing to hhii, that many religious teachers are 
 accustomed t(j tell the ]ieople that, when tempted, they should 
 never reason, — "It is absurd," he replied, " the very climax of 
 absurdity. Yov what was reason given us. if \\c are not to use 
 it when we most need direction ^ Did not Christ reason with the 
 devil, and foil him with his own weapons'! Iteason would say, 
 ' How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God V It 
 ■would suggest to us our own weakness, and direct us to seek help 
 from above. No, sir, it is not reason we have to fear, but appe- 
 tite, which reason should control. It is because men do not 
 reason that they so often act unreasonably and unscripturally." 
 
SAYINGS AND OPINIONS. 
 
 333 
 
 A gentleman one day remarking to Mr. D. that very repre- 
 hensible expressions were often used in the pulpit, — "Ay, sir," 
 said he, " the pulpit is the strong-hold of the ignorant dogmatist. 
 A man ' wiser in his own conceit than seven men who can ren- 
 der a reason,' gets up where he knows no one may contradict 
 him, and utters nonsense and invective by wholesale." 
 
 In the course of conversation, a question was mooted rela- 
 tive to extravagant gesture and expression in the pulpit, and the 
 propriety of attempting to move the passions of an audience, as 
 a means of^fTecting their consciences. 
 
 " I see no impropriety," said a gentleman, " in the use of 
 such means. Have they not been followed by the conversion 
 of thousands of sinners T' 
 
 " 'J'iiis, sir," replied Mr. D., "does not prove them to be good, 
 though they may have been overruled for good. I have known 
 an individual apparently owe his subsequent religious conduct 
 to an escape from the' flames. Would you think it expedient 
 to set your neighbour's liouse on fire, in order to alarm him, and 
 save his soull or would you introduce a pestilential disease 
 into a neighbourhood, because the fear of being the victims of 
 such a visitation has led to the reformation of many sinners? 
 I grant, sir, that there maybe exempt cases; but I fear that, in 
 general, such methods of saving souls are included in the defini- 
 tion of fanaticism — of maintaining that the end sanctifies the 
 means^ and of doing evil that good may come. It may be diffi- 
 cult to trace the exact boundary of right and wrong in these 
 matters; but it must lie between man's animal and rational 
 nature." 
 
 To a correspondent, who inquired his opinion of religious re- 
 vivals, Mr. Drew replied thus: — " If the phrase, revival of re- 
 ligion, be taken in its proper sense, as denoting the extension 
 and increase of vital godliness, I should be no Christian were I 
 to view it with indifference or aversion. If you couple it with 
 noise and excited feeling (and without these many people 
 would think the term inapplicable), I pause before I either ap- 
 prove or condemn. In point of reason, speculation, propriety, 
 and decorum, my voice is decidedly against the manner; and if 
 I thought that it was the effect of human artifice operating upon 
 vi^eak intellects and strong passions, I would condenni it alto- 
 gether. 13ut when, without any ground for this suspicion, I see 
 the profligate reclaimed, the abandoned reformed, and the vicious 
 undergoing a moral ronovation, I abandon all my fine-spun 
 objections, and remain silent at a spectacle sp salutary in its 
 effects, and so mysterious in its process. 
 
 " I fear, however, there is an artifice with some preachers and 
 people to light up this contagious fire. 1 have been behind the 
 curtain, and have seen a little of it ; and am filled with disgust in 
 proportion to the discovery. If the work be of God, he does not 
 
334 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 want the tricks I have witnessed. The question of permanency, 
 too, presents itself. Are the present effects ultimately bene- 
 ficiaH Do these new converts standi* The history of past 
 years teaches us that their apostacy has been nearly as exten- 
 sive and sudden as their reformation The benefit in such cases 
 is lost, while the disgust excited in the minds of sober persons 
 still remains. In many instances, 1 conceive, tliese things have 
 created and confirmed prejudices which an age will hwrdly wipe 
 away. With my present views, and with all I evfr had, 1 can- 
 not join in these reveries without being an arrant hypocrite." 
 
 In indiscriminate censure Mr. Drew never indulged ; and, ex- 
 cept among confidential friends, he rarely oflVred or seconded 
 any remark on the government of the Methodislic body. To 
 questioners and partisans, the conmion reply, in his letter years, 
 was, "I have done with th,e politics of Methodism." Still he 
 was not without his opinions— the opinions of an impartial and 
 accurate observer. Some of these may be gathered from oc- 
 casional conversations. 
 
 " On what ground," said a friend to Mr. Drew, "does your at- 
 tachment to Methodism chiefly rest? Do you think it free 
 from imperfection V 
 
 " By no means, sir, — 
 
 ' Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, 
 Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be :' 
 
 ijut I think there are fewer defects in the doctrines and dis- 
 cipline of VVesleyan Methodism than of any other body of 
 modern Christians that 1 have read of or known. The distin- 
 guishing excellence of Methodism, in my estimation, is, that it 
 requires no confession of faith from its members — no other condi- 
 tion than a desire 'to flee from the wrath to come,' evidenced 
 by 'fn:its meet for repentance.' The 'unity of the spirit' is 
 thus 'kejjt in the bond of peace.' Let the Conference make 
 uniformity in opinion the condition of membership, and Metho- 
 dism will fall to piece.i like a rope of sand." 
 
 "What do you think, Mr. Drew," said the questioner, "of the 
 remark I once heard made by a preacher to an individual who sug- 
 gested sor ie improventent in the financial concerns of a circuit, 
 
 ♦ There is much 'truth and shrewd sense in the observation of S. 
 Hick, the Village blacksmith : " In most revivals of religion there are 
 three sorts of work — the work of God, the work of man, and the work of 
 the devil. When the two latter are destroyed, the first will stand; 
 and we must be careful not to injure the one in suppressing the other." 
 
SAYINGS AND OPINIONS. 
 
 339 
 
 —'The laws of jMethodism were in existence before we were 
 born, and we cannot mend them V " 
 
 " 1 think, sir, that preacher was born out of due time. He 
 ou^ht to have been a Roman Catholic, and to have lived at the 
 epoch of the Reformation. Possibly he might have distinguished 
 himself as a zealous opponent of Luther. Mr. Wesley was an 
 excellent legislator, and few systems of church government 
 were so well ors; mized at the outset as his. Legislative perfec- 
 tion is not instantaneous, but gradur.l ; and laws will need alter- 
 ation as circumstances and relationships arise which their fra- 
 mers never anticipated. It is ridiculous to suppose that Metho- 
 dism came from its founder, like Minerva from the head of Jupi- 
 ter, fully armed." 
 
 •' Perhaps, then, you do not consider Mr. Wesley's answer to 
 the fault- finders of his day,—' You sought us, and not we you,' 
 — precisely i-.pplicable now V 
 
 '•Certainly not. The people stand in another relation to his 
 successors in the ministry than they did to him. The original 
 Methodist societies sprang from John and Charles Wesley, 
 who were independent of the people ; the present preachers 
 spring from tlie societies, and are dependent upon them fur their 
 maintenance. Arbitrary power, too. can never be delegated. 
 There may be circumstances under \\ liich such power is prop- 
 erly assumed and conceded, but it reaches only to the original 
 parties and those who place themselves in a like situation. 
 Such persons as crasp at sovereign sway ought not to forget the 
 remurk of Juiiiiis, that ' the fee-simple is still in the people.'" 
 
 " Do you not think. Mr. Drew, that the preachers, as a body, 
 look upctn tiieir interests as distinct from those of the people V 
 
 '•It is an error into which I fear they sometimes fall; but 
 may they not retort on us, that we speak and act as though our 
 interests were opposed to theirs 1 We too often form our 
 opinions without evidence, and judge of measures as they affect 
 us individually, not as tliey bear upon the whole community. 
 This, nevertheless, I admit, that though almost all the preach- 
 ers with whom I have been personally acquainted are upright, 
 amiable, disinterested men; yet I should find it difficult to 
 reconcile every measure of Conference with the private virtues 
 of its members. When a pre-acher is admitted into ' full connec- 
 tion,' he .ippears, like a Kniirlit of the Temple, to merge his in- 
 dividuality in tlie aggrandizement of his order." 
 
 "And what is your opinion, sir, of the stability of Me- 
 thodism V 
 
 " About thirty years ago," replied Mr. D., "a preacher, whom 
 I knew, left the iiinerancy, under an apprehension that the sys- 
 tem would soon be dissolved; alleging to me, when I inquired 
 his reason, that ' a prudent mail foreseeth the evil, and hideth 
 himself Many such auguries I have heard ; but their fulfil- 
 ment seems as'dist int as ever. Do not, however, suppose that 
 I consider the Methodist constitution indissoluble. There are 
 
336 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 many things tending to its disorganization, against which there 
 must be a careful watch. Our chapel debts are a millstone 
 about the neck of the connection, which, without some change 
 of measures, may sink it to destruction. But nothing will 
 prove so prejudicial as a gratuitous display of power on the part 
 of the preachers. Against this the minds of the people will al- 
 ways revolt. Let them beware, too, of seeking the honour that 
 conieth from men. In my estimation, and that of many others, 
 the preachers went down several degrees when, by a vote of 
 Conference, they assumed to themselves the title of Reverend. 
 The permanency and strength of Methodism lie in the union of 
 preachers and people. While their purposes and interests are 
 identified, and God's glory their only aim, Methodism will- 
 prosper. If these be sundered, discord will succeed to harmony. 
 Like other Christian communities, om-s will, no doubt, in pro- 
 cess of time degenerate. Then probably some branch or offset 
 will spring forth for its renovation, just as Methodism has been 
 the means of renovating the Estabhshed Church.'' 
 
 Mr. Drew not only disliked to be styled Reverend, but he was 
 never partial to the assumption of the epithet by those to whom 
 it was not conceded by law and established usage. Before the 
 appearance of his book on the Resurrection, a friend, to whose 
 kindness he was indebted for many subscribers, wrote him thus : 
 " A certain bishop lately observed to me, ' I wonder Mr. Drew 
 did not honour the Methodist preachers with the title of Reve- 
 rend, in liis work on the Soul.' 1 replied, that perhaps you 
 would 111 this. It certainly could be of no advantage'to the indi- 
 viduals themselves — more likely the contrary. But it might be 
 an advantage to the work, to see such a number of reverend sin- 
 ners in the subscription list: for the major part of your subscri- 
 bers would wonder where you got such a group of clergymen." 
 To this suggestion Mr. Drew replied, " It was my design nut to 
 give the title of Reverend to any of the preachers, except Drs. 
 Coke and Clarke ; 
 
 ' For loveliness needs not the common aid 
 Of ornainent, but is when unadorned 
 Adorned the most.' 
 
 I would rather see them dignified than tinselled, and shine in 
 sterling worth than in artificial trappings." 
 
 Alluding, on one occasion, to an ill-timed display of authority, 
 and the apparent inability of some preachers to discriminate be- 
 tween the possession and the exhibition of power, he remarked, 
 " When a boy smacks his whip, men must beware that their eyes 
 do not receive the lash." 
 
 To a Wesleyan preacher who thought himself harshly treated 
 
SAYINGS AND OPINIONS. 
 
 337 
 
 by some of his official brethren, on a particular occasion, Mr. D. 
 observed, " It is to me astonishing, that when persons get into 
 office, they should forget that those whom they direct have the 
 common feelings of human nature, and that elevation is only an 
 accidental circumstance. This is one branch of that range of 
 rocks on which I fear Methodism will one day be wrecked." 
 
 Dining once in company with a Wesleyan minister who was 
 a strenuous defender of ecclesiastical domination, the conversa- 
 tion turned on the general introduction of the Liturgy into the 
 Methodist chapels — a measure which the gentleman advocated, 
 and Mr. Drew thought both uncalled-for and opposed to the 
 wishes of the people. 
 
 "I cannot," said Mr. D., "affirm what are the sentiments of 
 the societies throughout the kingdom, but wherever I have been 
 I believe they would not be in its favour. In Cornwall, I am 
 sure, the proposal would be instantly negatived." 
 
 " Cornwall, sir I" it was replied, " surely you would not in- 
 stance the Cornish Methodists as an example ! Why, they are 
 the mob of Methodism ; they have always been rude and refract- 
 ory." 
 
 " But is it right, sir, to impute to them as a crime, that for 
 which they are rather to be pitied, as their misfortune V 
 
 " I do not understand you, Mr. Drew. For what are they to 
 be pitied 
 
 '• It is the misfortune, sir, of Cornisbmen to be born with little 
 mouths : they cannot take in the drenching-horn of ecclesi- 
 astical authority." 
 
 Whether Mr. Drew was of opinion that a state religion, in 
 the abstract, is desirable, we have not sufficient evidence to 
 show ; but, like his friend Dr. Clarke, he uniformly maintained, 
 that, in England, the national establishment, with all its alleged 
 defects, had been a national blessing. " From all that I have 
 seen," he has more than once remarked, " there is no section 
 of the church universal that would have used power with such 
 moderation as the ministers of the Church of England ; and the 
 day which shall transfer their power to any other Christian sect 
 with its present prejudices and prepossessions, the nation will 
 long deplore." 
 
 Until after his removal from St. Austell, Mr. Drew never par- 
 took of the Eucharist. On being asked why, he replied, " I 
 doubt its being designed for a perpetual ordinance ; and knowing 
 that ' whatsoever is not of faith is sin,' I think it right to abstain. 
 But I do not wish my conduct to be a rule for others. Let every 
 man be fully persuaded in his own mind." His sentiments re- 
 specting the Lord's Supper so far changed in his latter years, 
 Ff 
 
338 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 that, during his residence in London, he was a regular commu- 
 nicant ; but he regarded it as a mere commemorative act, or 
 token of discipleship, — not as an efficacious means of grace. 
 
 Of the ritual of baptism his views were very similar to those 
 above expressed. " I have never yet," said he, " seen any argu- 
 ments for the perpetuity of water baptisni so conclusive as 
 those of Robert Barclay against its continuance. It is, 1 think, 
 but fair to conclude, that if this were to be a standing ordinance, 
 more explicit directions would have been left concerning it." 
 
 Some one inquiring why he had his own children baptized, 
 he replied, " It was no act of mine. My wife wished it, and 1 
 consented. Though it could do the children no good, it could 
 do no harm." 
 
 On another occasion, being asked his opinion respecting in- 
 fant baptism, he replied, " I would attend to it rather as a civil 
 institution than a religious ordinance. The pubHc registration 
 of children seems legally necessary." 
 
 A young man, whose mind was perplexed on the subject of 
 adult baptism applied to Mr. Drew for advice, saying that a 
 friend of his also doubted whether it were not a duty thus to 
 make a public profession of the Christian faith. "Far be it 
 from me," said he, " to persuade you to the contrary, if you 
 have any such misgivings. I cannot, however, see that priestly 
 interference is necessary. Can you not relieve your consciences 
 by going to the river and baptizing one another?" 
 
 A question being asked of Mr. D. about plainness of dress, he 
 said, " On this subject my views have undergone some revolu- 
 tion. Before I had seen so much of the world as now, I was as 
 severe upon superfluity and ornament as the straitest of my 
 sect. I have since learned that plainness is only a relative term. 
 The Friends, who seem to have settled that the fitting costume 
 for Christians in all ages and countries is that worn by George 
 Fox and William Penn the century before last, have stopped far 
 short of absolute plainness. The men have dismissed the pos- 
 terior buttons and collars of their coats ; but, for the sake of con- 
 sistency, the skirts ought also to be cut off ; and the flowing 
 drapery of the women should certainly be abridged. Indeed, the 
 only truly plain dress for either sex, that I can imagine, is a vest- 
 ment of undressed hides, closely fitted to the body and to each 
 separate limb. This is a point to which few, I think, would carry 
 their abhorrence of gaudy attire. Philosophically, then, I take 
 plainness of dress to be that which is such in relation to the 
 ordinary costume of individuals of the same age, rank, and 
 country ; and Scripinrally , that higher objects than the adorning 
 of the body ought to engage a Christian's attention." 
 
 " Do you, Mr. Drew," inquired a gentleman, " regard all works 
 of fiction as injurious V — " Too many, sir, certainly are ; not be- 
 
SAYINGS AND OPINIONS. 
 
 339 
 
 cause they are fictitious, but because their matter is such as 
 creates a morbid appetite. Fiction has been, and may be, made 
 the vehicle of most important instruction. Parable, which is 
 one of its forms, was the favourite mode of teaching of Christ 
 liimself ; and in fable we have transmitted to us the choice lessons 
 of ancient wisdom. Well constructed tales are an iUustration of 
 moral precept, — they render that plain which many people 
 scarcely know how to apply in practice. Unhappily, many of 
 our modern works of fiction, by delineating passion rather than 
 character, and giving distorted views of life, morals, and religion, 
 are more likely to be injurious than beneficial. But to condemn 
 the whole for the delinquency of a part is the blindness of fanati- 
 cism." 
 
 Writing to a gentleman on a similar topic, Mr. D. remarked, 
 " This class of publications may be made subservient to the in- 
 terests of religion, morality, and virtue. Many will read a 
 lively tale who will not enter into a serious subject; and, having 
 caught the moral which lies concealed beneath the narrative, 
 their conduct may be regulated by a principle which they 
 acquired by accident." 
 
 One of his children asking his permission to attend a provin- 
 cial theatre, and alleging the usual arguments in favour of the 
 drama, Mr. D. repUed, " I do not say there is harm in dramatic 
 exhibition ; but in our day there are too many evils associated 
 with it to receive my sanction. The general voice of pious 
 people is against the theatre, — I believe justly; for we must 
 judge of things, not as they ought to be, bu.t as they are. Were 
 I to assent to your proposal, 1 should plainly subject myself to 
 the charge of inconsistency, as a teacher of religion. Until 
 you are released from parental control, you must, therefore, re- 
 press your curiosity ; and then I hope you will be able to judge 
 for yourself." 
 
 "It is," Mr. D. remarked, "one of the fatal eifects of fallen 
 human nature, that our passions and animal propensities come 
 to maturity before our intellectual powers. Hence arises tlie 
 necessity of caution, instruction, and admonition; and they only 
 are wise who profit by the advice they receive." 
 
 I 
 
 "What think you of the sermon, Mr. Drewl" inquired a 
 friend ; " Mr. , you know, is one of our noted preachers." 
 
 " I think, sir, that, deprived of their long O's and great O's, 
 many such discourses could be contained in a nutshell." 
 
 On another occasion he said, " Many preachers would never 
 get on without a plentiful supply of great O's. They are the 
 chief ingredients of their sermons. Not only do they furnish 
 out a sentence, but they are conveniently substituted for 
 thought itself." 
 
340 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 " You do not, Mr. Drew," said a person on hearing him quote 
 an expression of Pope's, " seem so bitter an enemy to the poet 
 as some of our zealous ministers are. What think you, sir, of 
 his often anathematized couplet, 
 
 ' For modes of faith let senseless zealots fight, 
 His can't be wrong whose life is in the right?' " 
 
 " I think, sir, it has become the pulpit fashion to decry Pope ; 
 but it is easier to reprobate than disprove his positions. When 
 this is done it will be time enough to censure them."* 
 
 Southey's Life of Wesley being spoken of in terms of repro- 
 bation, as giving a false representation of Methodism and its 
 founder, Mr. Drew observed, " Though Dr. Southey's book may 
 he a burlesque, or a caricature, I believe it has done Methodism 
 good service. Through the laureate's work, the tenets of Me- 
 thodism have found their way into circles previously inaccessi- 
 ble ; and his picture, though distorted, is far less hideous than 
 the monstrous creations of fancy which it helped to dispel." 
 
 Having been informed of some illiberal remarks made by a 
 distinguished preacher in a public company, upon the comment- 
 ary of Dr. Adam Clarke, Mr. D. observed, " I really wish that 
 popery were the only system whose leading characters would 
 persuade_the people to ' believe as the church believes ;' but, alas ! 
 popery is not the onlyenemy which free inquiry has to encoun- 
 ter. Dr. Clarke is a man of gigantic mind, as well as profound 
 learning, and has too firm an anchorage in the affections of the 
 people at large for unmanly insinuations to injure. He wishes 
 the people to think : his opponents wish them to be of a more 
 tractable disposition." 
 
 On another occasion, alluding to the censures and insinuations 
 which had been levelled at his friend, he observed, " Dr. Clarke 
 is an eagle that, in his towering flight, cannot be overtaken by 
 birds of an inferior order, and must therefore be shot." 
 
 On the lamented death of Dr. Adam Clarke, Mr. D., in writing 
 to a mutual friend, remarks, " A good conversational life of him 
 would be an entertaining and instructive work. Boswell's 'Life 
 
 * A gentleman acquainted with Mr. Drew says, "A few years since, 
 I was one of a select party that went up the river, in a small steamer, to 
 Twickenham. When we came opposite to Pope's villa, Mr. D., who 
 was with us, directed our attention to it, and making some observation, 
 which I now forget, took off his hat ' in honour,' as he said, ' of departed 
 greatness' — an example which was followed by nearly every gentleman 
 present." 
 
 Mr. Drew once remarked to the same friend, that when, in company 
 with Dr. Adam Clarke and some other gentlemen, he went to visit Prince 
 Arthur's Stone, in Cornwall, the doctor said, " Let us uncover, for we ar« 
 now on classic ground." — " We did so," said Mr. D., " and involuntarily 
 remained silent for a minute or two." 
 
SAYI3SGS AND OPINIONS. 
 
 341 
 
 of Johnson' formed a new era in the biographical department of 
 En<?lish literature. It is a mode that never tires, because the 
 speakers arid subjects are so varied and interestingly blended to- 
 gether. We seem to join in colloquial intercourse, and enjoy a 
 conversation which others carry on for our instruction and 
 amusement." 
 
 " I wonder," said Mr. D. to a religious friend, " that people 
 ever sing such a palpable contradiction as 
 
 * Eternity thy fountain was, 
 Which, like thee, no beginning knew.' 
 
 If Eternity were the fountain of Deity, God could not be eternal. 
 I am glad to see, in recent editions of our hymn-book, dwellmg 
 substituted for fuuyitain ; but still it is a botch. The absurdity, 
 though yet retained, is not less glaring in this line — 
 
 ' 'Tis mystery all — the Immortal dies !' 
 
 It was not the Godhead but the human body of Christ that ex- 
 pired on the cross. How easy to change immortal for incarnate .'" 
 
 " Poetry," Mr. Drew remarked to a literary friend, " is about 
 the worst article that can be carried into the market of literature. 
 Merit is no criterion by which circulation may be calculated. A 
 happy concurrence of wind and tide may sometimes accomplish, 
 in a lucky moment, what no talents or efforts can effect. This 
 will throw a halo round an author's name, and then all lus pro- 
 ductions will sell. Even when uttering the most consummate 
 nonsense, he will be thought to ' snatch a grace beyond the 
 reach of art.' Nine-tenths of the booksellers in London know 
 that nine-tenths of mankind are fools, and must be treated 
 accordingly." 
 
 I 
 
 Talking of a subscription to assist a person whose property 
 had been destroyed by fire, "Is it just," asked a gentleman of 
 Mr. Drew, " to tax the public, because a man has neglected to 
 ensure his goods, or chosen to be his own ensurer V 
 
 " This, sir," said he, " is not a case of justice, but a matter of 
 charity ; and charity is not to be determined by the gauge of im- 
 prudence. If your objection were valid, every charitable act 
 would be strangled in the birth. A man who has been impru- 
 dent ought not to be relieved; and he who is prudent and careful 
 will scarcely need relief. Suspended o*i the horns of such a di- 
 lemma, charity would cut but a sorry figure." 
 
 To a person in trade, who had given such extensive credit as 
 to cause serious embarrassment to liimself, and pleaded, in justi- 
 fication, that from him who would borrow we are not to turn 
 Ff2 
 
842 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 away, he remarked, " It is of no use to talk of being kind to 
 others, until we have the means of being kind to ourselves. A 
 generous person is frequently a prey of the lazy and careless. 
 No man ought to give away his living, or advance on credit what 
 there is no probability of his being repaid, and what he cannot 
 afford to lose." 
 
 "Writing to a young tradesman, Mr. D. observed, "It is only on 
 diligence, frugality, and prudent management that the smiles of 
 Divine Providence can be expected. Without the use of legiti- 
 mate means, we expect miracle rather than Providence to crown 
 our expectations with success." 
 
 " Take care of your credit," said he to the same individual. 
 " Credit is a tender thing. It is a plant that needs attention in 
 the rearing, and may be soon killed by neglect or exposure." 
 
 Talking, one day, about success in business, Mr. D. said, " I 
 always think it advantageous to a young tradesman to have a 
 narrow capital." 
 
 " Why so, sir]" it was asked. 
 
 " For this reason : it makes him guard every penny, and lay it 
 out to the best advantage : it makes him cautious whom he 
 credits, and diligent in collecting his debts. You rarely see 
 such a man in the list of bankrupts." 
 
 When consulted upon the propriety of a young kinsman's emi- 
 grating to America, he replied, "I have no notion of young men 
 of spirit and ability wasting the prime of life without making an 
 exertion, and passing all their days in poverty and depression. 
 When the famine was sore in the land of Canaan there was 
 corn in Egypt, and thither the sons of .Jacob repaired." 
 
 To the same individual he remarked, " America will not sup- 
 port you in idleness. Industry, carefulness, and frugality are as 
 indispensable there as in England : and without them you must 
 not expect to be elevated above the necessity of continued me- 
 chanical labour. It has been the misfortune of many young 
 men to begin where they ought to end, and thus killed the goose 
 that would lay eggs of gold." 
 
 Advising some individuals of his family, on their first becom- 
 ing parents, Mr. P. remarked, " Do not decorate the babe in ex- 
 pensive finery. This is a grand foible into which most young 
 parents fall ; and hence the adage, that ' whei-e ycu behold a fa- i 
 ther, mother, and one child, you generally discover three fools i 
 in the house.' It is a satire upon human nature to reflect, that! 
 the cradle and the coffin, our entrance and our exit, should bel 
 scenes of fantastic foppery of which neither subject can be con- 1 
 scions. I think that the seeds of vanity are sometimes sown in ^ 
 the cradle by parents, who afterward complain how difficult it 
 
 to weed them out," 
 
SAYINGS AND OPINIONS. 
 
 343 
 
 There were few things Mr. Drew reprobated more than the 
 disposition of people in middling life to bring up their daughters 
 as fine ladies, neglecting useful knowledge for showy accomplish- 
 ments. " Tlie notions," said he, " which they acquire of their 
 own importance is in an inverse ratio to their true value. With 
 just enough of fashionable refinement to disqualify them for the 
 duties of their proper station, and render them ridiculous in a 
 higher sphere, what are such fine ladies fit for \ Nothing that I 
 know, but to be kept like wax figures in a glass case. Wo to 
 the man that is linked to one of them ! If half the time and mo- 
 ney wasted on their music, dancing, and embroidery were em- 
 ployed in teaching them the useful arts of making shirts and 
 mending stockings, their present qualifications, as wives and 
 mothers, would be increased fourfold." 
 
 To a young female correspondent he wrote thus : — " Pru- 
 dence, frugality, and good management are excellent artists for 
 mending bad times. They occupy but little room in any dwell- 
 ing, and will furnish a more effectual remedy for the evils of life 
 than any Reform Bill that ever passed the Houses of Parliament." 
 
 " You seem to have been a close student of economy in your 
 time, Mr. Drew," said a friend. " Did you begin the lesson 
 early ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir; necessity obliged me. My first lesson I have not 
 forgotten. When I was a boy, I somehow got a few pence, 
 and coming into St. Austell on a fair-day, laid all out on a purse. 
 My empty purse often reminded me of my folly ; and the recol- 
 lection of it has since been as useful to me as Franklin's whistle 
 was to him." 
 
 ^ "We talk sometimes," said Mr. D., "of the distresses and 
 privations of the poor, and compare the present time with the 
 past, as though labourers, and people generally, were better cir- 
 cumstanced in the last generation than now. Why, sir, the 
 squire's mansion fifty years ago, wanted many of the accommo- 
 dations you will now find in a labourers cottage. A working 
 man nowadays reckons on getting a new garment frequently ; 
 but 1 remember the time when a poor man's wedding-suit was 
 esteemed a provision for life. Every stripling now thinks him- 
 self destitute of proper equipment till he has a watch. Within 
 my remembrance only a few of the wealthiest would presume 
 to carry such an appendage. No, no, sir: unless you can look 
 back half a century, you can form no correct opinion." 
 
 In the course of conversation, a gentleman repeating the 
 couplet, 
 
 " And thou, great Chatham, with thy latest breath, 
 Shalt feel thy ruling passion strong in death," 
 
344 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 " Is it possible," said another of the company, " for the soul, just 
 passing into another world, to be thus governed by its ordinary 
 
 associations V 
 
 " Not only possible, sir," remarked Mr. Drew, " but a thing 
 of frequent occurrence. One instance of the ' ruling passion 
 strong in death' I remember, just fit to be contrasted with that 
 of the noble patriot. Many years ago, an old gentleman, not 
 far from Plymouth, who had grown rich by government con- 
 tracts, was on his death-bed. Wishing to make a Christian end, 
 he requested to have read to him the first and last chapters of 
 Job. At the inventory of Job's wealth, the old gentleman de- 
 sired the reader to pause, that he might duly estimate the 
 value of each item. ' Now how much will fourteen thousand 
 sheep amount to at so much a head V (naming a sum.) — ' It will 
 be so much.' — 'Well, put that down. And how much are six 
 thousand camels worth V This was computed. ' Put that down 
 too. And the thousand yoke of oxen, and thousand she-asses I 
 reckon them, and put down the amount.' It was done. ' Now 
 cast it up, and tell me the total.' Being informed of this, he 
 raised his dying hands in admiration, saying, ' Oh ! what a happy 
 man ! If Job were living now, he and I would take all the 
 Dock-yard and Navy contracts !' " 
 
 Talking of the force of habit, and its often singular effects, Mr. 
 D. said, " I was walking the street in one of our northern towns, 
 where an itinerant fishmonger was bawling, with true cockney 
 modulation, ' 'Live O, 'live 0 ; all alive O !' Being at some dis- 
 tance from the coast, it struck me as singular; and on passing 
 the man, I inquired what fish he had for sale. The reply was, 
 ' Salt herrings, plase your honour.' " 
 
 " Compounding of felony," Mr. D. once remarked, " is a seri- 
 ous oftence in our statute-book ; but I think our statesmen might 
 draw a useful hint from the private practice of an old Quaker 
 that I knew. He was a draper and grocer, and, being in an ex- 
 tensive way of business, was liable to many depredations. 
 Whenever any thing was stolen, and the thief undiscovered, a 
 regular entry was made in a book which he called ihe /hief's 
 leger, and kept in due debtor and creditor form. In case of a thief 
 being detected, the old man made no ado ; but, very calmly invi- 
 ting the delinquent to walk inside, and producing the book, would 
 say, ' 1 find, friend, by my account, that thee dost owe so and so. 
 Tliis is the amount charged since last settlement ; and as nobody 
 has been found out but tiise, the debt is thine. But if thee dost 
 dispute it, thee must take the consequence.' Where there was 
 any means of payment, the debt was generally discharged, and a 
 fresh account opened with the next dishonest customer who 
 might not be adroit enough to escape detection." 
 
 In writing to a friend, Mr. D. says, " \ ou half accuse me of 
 
SAYIKGS AND OPINIONS. 
 
 345 
 
 being half deluded by phrenology. This, I can assure you, is 
 not the case. I should not hesitate to allow, that appearances 
 on the head, like features on the countenance, may furnish prob- 
 able indications of intellect and character ; but beyond this, I 
 would not venture one step. Like Caterfelto's cats, Graham's 
 earth bathing-, animal magnetism, and velocipedes, it will live its 
 day, and give place to some new paper-kite to amuse the children 
 of John Bull." 
 
 An individual endeavouring to palliate the evils of slavery in 
 his company, Mr. Drew said, " Never, sir, attempt to name that 
 enormity in connection with any thing good. It is the hugest 
 mass of crime under which the creation has ever groaned ! It 
 is a foul blot on England's scutcheon, engrained by blood and 
 tears, which the tears and blood of the oppressors will scarcely 
 wash away." 
 
 A gentleman, in defending an untenable position, having tried 
 to intrench himself behind a great name, Mr. D. remarked, 
 " Precedent and authority, not divinely sanctioned, are but the 
 refuge of a weak understanding. One sound argument is worth 
 a thousand authorities." 
 
 In reference to the misconduct of individuals of superior intel- 
 lect, Mr. D. observed, " The world is justified in forming great 
 expectations from great minds ; and in proportion as these defeat 
 our hopes, the deviation from the line of prudent conduct be- 
 comes the more conspicuous, and the more reprehensible." 
 
 To a person suffering the consequence of indiscretion, he said, 
 " You may now levy a tax on past misfortunes, and compel re- 
 collection to mount guard on futurity." 
 
 To a young friend accustomed to indulge in sanguine expect- 
 ations he remarked, " It will be happy for us, in passing through 
 the world, if we learn to moderate our hopes, by accommoda- 
 ting our views to things as they actually exist — not in visionary 
 theory, but in real life." 
 
 Expostulating very freely with an acquaintance, Mr. D. ob- 
 served, " Friendship, in my estimation, becomes debased when 
 it forms an alliance with flattery." 
 
 " Are our affections," it was asked of Mr. D., " under the con- 
 trol of the will V 
 
 " Not directhj so, sir ; but indirecthj they are. We may avoid 
 objects that would entangle them, and seek those by which they 
 ought to be engaged." 
 
346 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 To a person disposed to indulge in unavailing regret, he re- 
 marked, " Life in every department has its evils, from which no 
 condition can wholly exempt us ; but there is another and a bet- 
 ter world where these calamities are unknown. To secure an 
 interest in that future state of rest and peace is the great ob- 
 ject to which all other things should be rendered subservient; 
 since the great business of life is to prepare for death, and that 
 of time to prepare for eternity." 
 
 " Principles," he once remarked, " are always to be estimated 
 by their effects; and those are the most valuable which produce 
 the richest and most abundant harvest. Short of this, all is idle 
 theory and visionary speculation. General principles are of 
 general apphcation, and, when planted with care, will grow in 
 any philosophical soil." 
 
 One of Mr. Drew's observations, of the truth of which he was 
 a striking illustration, was, " A ray of light communicated to the 
 understanding is of more value to the mind than a whole volume 
 conmiitted to the memory. This is like water in a cistern which 
 may be exhausted; that is like a fountain, yielding a continual 
 supply." 
 
 Alluding to the extreme aptitude of some persons, who have 
 more pride than understanding, to take offence at little things, 
 he said, " There is nothing but combustible matter that will take 
 fire at a squib." 
 
 In reference to the supercilious conduct of individuals whose 
 pride ill accorded with their altered circumstances, Mr. Drew- 
 remarked, " Those who fall from crows' nests are generally 
 high-bred." 
 
 To a young man in trade, he said, " Never shrink from doing 
 any thing which your business calls you to. The man who is 
 above his business may one day find his business above him." 
 
 Some one acquainting Mr. Drew that a very worthy individual, 
 whom he knew, had been unsuccessful in business, "Yes," 
 
 said he, " poor M has met with losses ; but it is less painful 
 
 to see any one unfortunate than deserving to be so." 
 
 One of his proverbial sayings, in reference to tardiness of de- 
 cision and execution where many persons are concerned, was, 
 " Large bodies move slowly." 
 
 "In our inquiries after causes," Mr. Drew remarked, "the 
 question will always outlive the reply." 
 
 " He," said Mr. D., " who wails till all objections are answered, 
 will never undertake an enterprise." 
 
SAYINGS AND OPINIONS. 
 
 347 
 
 " As daylight can be seen through little holes, so," said he, 
 " we may judge of a person's character by small actions as well 
 as great." 
 
 Advising an acquaintance, who was disposed to be needlessly 
 busy about other people's affairs, he remarked, " About my own 
 concerns I have scarcely ever got into trouble ; but in many 
 cases I have burnt my fingers in other people's fires." 
 
 Referring to certain philosophical speculatists, he observed, 
 "Science, like invention, has its dreams, and sometimes years 
 are required to awaken the visionary from his trance." 
 
 The austerity and repulsive manners of some distinguished 
 individuals being a subject of remark, Mr. D. said, " Theirs, then, 
 is not light without heat: they not only shine with brilliancy at 
 a distance, but scorch those who approximate more nearly." 
 
 Referring to those plausibilities by which we often impose 
 upon ourselves, he once remarked, "■Esteem sometimes so gilds 
 the vices of those who are its objects, that we perceive nothing 
 but fashionable infirmity, or spirit, where we ought to behold 
 criminality." 
 
 " When we see a friend on the brink of a precipice, and 
 wholly insensible of his danger," Mr. D. once observed, " our 
 hand should be stretched out with eagerness to snatch him from 
 his fate. His condition leaves us no room to parley. While 
 we pass through the etiquette of ceremonial, his fate may be- 
 come inevitable." 
 
 Admonishing a young lady, he once observed, " I can caution 
 you against certain rocks and shoals which lie in the channel of 
 life ; but I cannot direct you how to make infallibly a prosper- 
 ous voyage. If calamities overtake us when we have made use 
 of every prudent means to avoid them, we ensure to ourselves 
 this consolation, that they are not the result of our own indis- 
 cretion ; and this consolatory reflection will more than half 
 counteract the pain of disappointment. When, on the contrary, 
 those distresses overtake us which the exercise of prudence 
 would have taught us to avoid, we are doomed to the anguish 
 of remorse, and the mortification which results from the painful 
 reflection." 
 
 Writing to a friend, Mr. Drew used these expressions : " That 
 philosophy which does not lead our views to heavenly objects, 
 and teach us to prepare for eternity, is vain and delusive. 
 Modern libertines, by ' spiking up their inch of reason on a 
 point of philosophic wit called argument,' will laugh at this, as 
 
348 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 the language of dotage or enthusiasm. Be it so. I hope I shall 
 form my calculations for eternity ; in which, whether it be a 
 reality or a chimera, I am not afraid of being derided by them 
 hereafter." 
 
 Alluding to sympathy for the distresses of others, he ob- 
 served, " Compassion will frequently thaw the tide of grief 
 which freezes round our hearts ; but it only clears the avenues 
 of what was too big for utterance, and leaves them open to the 
 influx of returning sorrows." 
 
 To a young female correspondent he remarked, "When 
 visionary and ideal schemes of Utopian happiness gain r.n ascend- 
 ency in our minds, they become a source of real unhappiness, 
 by holding out to our views such exalted ideas of perfection as 
 the present deranged state of things is not calculated to afford. 
 We murder actual happiness by grasping at that which is unreal." 
 
 Advising the same person, on the subject of matrimonial feli- 
 city, Mr. D. writes, " The abode of intellectual greatness is not 
 always the habitation of domestic happiness. Yet where splendid 
 talents, sanctified by divine grace, combine with all the social 
 virtues, that bosom becomes the seat of tranquillity ; and when 
 two cf this stamp unite, 
 
 * When heart meets heart, reciprocally soft. 
 Each other's pillow to repose divine,' 
 
 it forms the most finished picture of Paradise that earth can 
 possibly exhibit." 
 
 " Domestic happiness," he observed to one of his own chil- 
 dren, " is a guest well worthy of being cherished. Coronets and 
 crowns cannot purchase his presence. He, however, possesses 
 delicate feelings, and sometimes takes his departure in a manner 
 as abrupt as unexpected. At first he comes a volunteer, and 
 may be easily retained ; but when once he has left a habitation, 
 scarcely any contrivances can induce him to return. He is be- 
 yond a bribe, but not insensible to insult ; and such are his habits, 
 that he never forsakes a house into which he has once entered, 
 without first receiving some ill usage." 
 
 On another occasion, he remarked, " A little care will cause 
 the torch of Hymen to burn long, and yield a brilliant flame." 
 
 To a lady who asked his opinion on the true sources of connu- 
 bial happiness, he replied, " A mutual affection, lighted on the 
 altar of virtue, is the only lamp that is inextinguishable. This, 
 under the inflLuence of divine grace, will continue to burn with 
 undiminished lustre, amid the storms, the adversities, and the 
 vicissitudes of this checkered life. 
 
LETTERS OF RELIGIOUS COUNSEL. 
 
 To Miss Hooke. 
 
 « St. Austell, Dec. 13, 1809. 
 
 " My dear Friend, 
 " You ask me how, and where, you may find 
 
 ' What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy, — 
 The soul's calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy. 
 
 " In reply to this question, I would recommend you to the re- 
 ligion of Jesus Christ, which alone is able to ' cast down imagi- 
 nations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the 
 knowledge of God,' and which 'brings into captivity every 
 thought to the obedience of Christ.' (2 Cor. x. 5.) This, 
 my friend, you will find to be ' profitable to all things, having 
 promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come.' 
 This, you say, the ' philosopher will contradict, and will tell us 
 that happiness consists in wisdom, reasoning, and a true know- 
 ledge of ourselves.' Be it so. But can you have any 'true 
 knowledge of yourself,' while you are ignorant of your moral re- 
 lation to God ! Just ' reasoning' will teach you, that, instead of 
 being at variance, religion and philosophy go hand in hand ; and 
 genuine ' wisdom' will enable us to perceive the coincidence be- 
 tween them. To know ourselves is to know the moral relation 
 in which we stand to God; and to know that relation is to view 
 our interest in eternity ; and to know this interest is to see the 
 necessity of being prepared for the future events which await us, 
 and to be taught to prepare to meet our God. 
 
 ' Know then thyself: all wisdom centres there.' 
 
 " You lay it down as a first principle, that ' religion 'is not es- 
 sential to our happiness.' Wisdom, if properly consulted, will 
 teach you to ' beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy.' 
 
350 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 (Col. ii. 8.) That the human soul is immortal, and must retain 
 its susceptibility of pain or pleasure through eternity, I flatter 
 myself you will not doubt. And if this be admitted, it would 
 be folly to talk of happiness which bears no relation to futurity. 
 That happiness is not essential to human nature in its present 
 state, the sigh which heaves your bosom when you read this 
 will probably inform you. If not essential, then, it must be de- 
 rived ; and between the object which confers and the disposition 
 which receives the blessing there must be an agreement. If, 
 therefore, we derive our happiness from any thing with which 
 eternity cannot furnish us, all our felicity must be confined to 
 time ; but surely my friend will not call that happiness which 
 gives felicity in time, but confers none in eternity. True happi- 
 ness must consist in something which can neither expire nor 
 change, but which must run parallel with our being ; and our quali- 
 fication for its enjoyment can only be found in the resemblance 
 which we bear to Him on whom we must be dependent for ever. 
 
 " To confirm your principle, you appeal to the ' great examples 
 of the heathen world ;' and allude to men who were ' adorned 
 with every virtue that can ennoble human nature.' I grant all 
 their greatness ; but contend, that what we call their virtues was 
 their religion : and had we lived in their age, and under tlieir 
 light, these virtues would have been ours. But I think you will 
 find, on an impp.rtial examination, that it is neither true wisdom 
 nor just reasoning to measure ourselves by their standard. We 
 live in an age where brighter lights have been displayed, and 
 greater truths have been revealed ; and, consequently, greater 
 improvements are expected from us than were expected from 
 them. It is with an eye to this that Dr. Young says, 
 
 'As wise as Socrates might justly stand 
 The definition of a modern fool.' 
 
 ' Virtue,' you say, ' may exist without religion.' Now virtue (or 
 morality) must spring either from a good motive or a bad one : 
 — if from a good one, wherein does it differ from religion 1 
 if from 'a bad one, how can you give it the name of virtue T 
 Whenever morality springs from a proper motive, religion is 
 the root from which this motive grows, and the virtues that 
 spring from it constitute its practical part. True virtue, there- 
 fore, does not stand alone ; it arises from a noble principle with 
 which it is inseparably connected ; and that which flows not from 
 this radical principle is but a counterfeit, because it wants a j 
 proper ground on which to stand ; and it is therefore unworthy | 
 of the name, though it wears an imposing aspect. It has what 
 Milton calls, 'semblance of worth, not substance.' 
 
 " Daylight and paper now fail me together. I must therefore 
 conclude, with my best wishes for your happiness in time and 
 in eternity. 
 
 " I remain your sincere friend, 
 
 " Samuel Drew." 
 
RELIGIOUS COUNSEL. 
 
 351 
 
 To his eldest Soti. 
 
 "St. Austell, March 28, 1814. 
 
 " My dear Son, 
 
 " On the divine origin of the Scriptures, the evidence is accu- 
 mulative ; and it must be gathered from a combination of facts, 
 incidents, predictions, prodigies, and events, which unite toge- 
 ther to form the immoveable basis on which it rests. From its 
 own nature, the divine origin of the Scriptures, if true, must be 
 an historical fact. Now no historical fact can be icnown by in- 
 tuition:— it cannot be demonstrated : — it will not admit of sensi- 
 tive proof. Moral certainty is the highest species of proof of 
 which it can possibly be susceptible. Hence the evidence is 
 accumulative. This evidence of moral certainty it has; and he 
 who expects to find it supported by a higher degree of evidence 
 acts a part which is truly irrational. To combine together the 
 varied branches of this evidence must be the work of time and 
 leisure. This has been done by Newton, Locke, Boyle, and 
 other moral philosophers, in such a manner as to place their 
 own minds in a state of settled conviction. 
 
 " Compare the present state of the Jews with the predictions 
 which relate to them, and the finger of God will become visible 
 in both. This approximates very nearly to sensitive proof. The 
 primitive progress of the gospel proves its origin to he divine. 
 The internal spiritual experience of true believers alTords an evi- 
 dence which is incontrovertible; but tlieii it is jjersonal, and its 
 energy cannot be communicated by him who has it. 
 
 " But, admitting Christianity to be wrong, and Deism to be 
 right, Christians have nothing to fear. Deism discards faith, 
 and professes to cherish morality. Now, if the former be right, 
 Christianity cannot be wrong ; because it inculcates morals on 
 better principles than Deism can produce. No man is a Chris- 
 tian whose morals will not rise higher than those which Deism 
 recommends. But if, on the contrary, faith be essentially ne- 
 cessary to salvation, as Christianity asserts, and Deism denies, 
 the case of infidels must be dreadful indeed. The same argu- 
 ment will hold good with respect to Socinianism and the Atone- 
 ment. 
 
 " Do not neglect to pray that God would give you a right 
 understanding in all things, especially in those which involve 
 your eternal interests. These are too serious to be trifled with. 
 The realities of eternity are too awful for speculative curiosity 
 to manage, or even for human science to determine by any of its 
 established rules. We may judge of fads ; but the maimer in 
 which they exist must necessarily be unknown. Reason has 
 its boundaries ; and beyond these we must rely on what God has 
 revealed, although we may find many things which are utterly- 
 incomprehensible. 
 
 " Pray to God to give you internal religion, and then theories 
 
352 
 
 APPENDK. 
 
 will appear of comparatively small importance. ' Christ in us 
 the hope of glory' will prove his divinity; and feeling 'redemp- 
 tion in his blood the forgiveness of sins,' will substantiate the 
 atonement which he has made. 
 " God bless you. Farewell. 
 
 " Your loving father, 
 
 " S. Drew. 
 
 " I do pray for your eternal welfare every day. I hope God 
 will hear my prayers in your behalf." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 " St. Austell, May 22, 1814. 
 
 " My dear Son, 
 
 " You say, you ' feel no burden.' In this your condition is 
 like that of thousands, whose greatest burden is that they do 
 not feel it. This is of little consequence, provided you feel the 
 depravity of your own heart, and seek to be delivered from it. 
 God works in various ways. Some are driven by terror, while 
 others are drawn by love. In all things, by prayer and supplica- 
 tion let your requests be made known to God ; and, when this 
 is practised, his promises bind him to bless your soul. Never 
 do I miss a day in praying for you ; and I feel a confidence in 
 God, that he will communicate the blessings your soul desires. 
 
 " I do not think that devotional exercises will ever prove an 
 impediment to your literary pursuits. It is a Scotch proverb, 
 that ' prayer and provender never retard a journey.' I would by 
 no means urge you to join the Methodist society, unless you 
 see your way perfectly clear, and are convinced that it is your 
 duty. And, on the same principle, I will add, when convinced 
 that it is a duty, by no means omit it. In this also, I trust, God 
 will be your instructor. The Lord bless you. Farewell. 
 
 " S. Drew." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 " St. AusteU, June 13, 1814. 
 
 " My dear Son, 
 
 " I hope your face is still towards Zion, and that you cherish 
 your convictions. Convictions for sin are instruments in the 
 hands of God, which derive their influence from the purity of the 
 divine nature, and from the holiness of God's laws. 'The law 
 is our schoolmaster, to bring us to Christ, — in whom are hidden 
 all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.' 
 
 " The end of the gospel is to set before us the readiness of 
 God to save us ; and also to display the plan which he has estab- 
 lished for our salvation. This plan is through the merits of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
RELIGIOUS COUNSEL. 
 
 353 
 
 " It is vain for us to ask, whether God could not have dis- 
 covered another way for the recovery of human nature from its 
 fall. Our business is with what he has done, and with what he 
 has revealed. No doubt, he could have devised methods for the 
 sustenance of our lives without the tedious process of nutrition 
 drawn from food, which can only be procured by toil and trouble. 
 But we are assured, by evidence a prion, that the present method 
 is the best, or, at least, that none could be better; otherwise a 
 Being of infinite wisdom must have adopted it. The same re- 
 marks will apply, with equal force, to Providence in all its ob- 
 scurities, and to the empire of grace in all its mysteries. No 
 finite being can trace the ascending scale of infinite possibilities ; 
 so that we are compelled to trust God where we cannot trace 
 his ways. Endeavour, my dear, to be humble, to be teachable, 
 to read God's word; and, above all things, to let your wants be 
 made known, in all these duties, by prayer and supplication to 
 the throne of grace. I trust that the Lord will bless and keep 
 you. Be much in earnest, in expecting the blessings which 
 God has promised to bestow. Many trials and difficulties you 
 must expect to encounter; but God has promised, ' My grace is 
 sufficient for thee.' Wisdom, strength, knowledge, and forgive- 
 ness may be obtained from God, who commands us to ask, and 
 receive, that our joy may be full. With the most affectionate 
 love of all our family, 
 
 " I remain, 
 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 " Sa.vuel Drew." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 ' " St. Austell, June 26, 1814. 
 
 " Mv DEAR Son, 
 
 " I now turn to your observations respecting your becoming a 
 member of the Methodist society. You have stated the advan- 
 tages and dangers with much precision, so far as you have pur- 
 sued them ; but you have stopped short. I am inclined to think, 
 that, while you remain without the pale of Methodism, you will 
 be exposed to many temptations from which membership would 
 shield you. Multitudes will deem it a hopeless task to attempt 
 the seduction of one who has deliberately taken a decided part. 
 
 " The advantage, also, of comnmnicating to others your hopes, 
 your fears, and of finding that your condition is that which is 
 common to all, together with receiving instruction from the 
 more experienced, will be considerable indeed. You say that 
 you have ' suspicions of your future stability.' I view these as 
 more favourable presages than if you had none. Fear is, many 
 times, not less friendly than hope. You have more to appre- 
 hend from being alone. 
 
 " You say that ' the members of the society profess to have 
 Gg2 
 
354 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 ' experienced a change of heart, which is not your case.' This 
 may be true. But this is no reason why you should remain at 
 a distance. ' The whole need not a physician, but they that are 
 sick.' The only condition of membership is, ' an earnest desire 
 to flee from the wrath to come, accompanied with a life corre- 
 spondent with that desire.' 
 
 "Nevertheless, I again advise you to do nothing rashly. 
 Make it a matter of prayer to God, and he will direct you. I did 
 not mean to make the distinction between the necessity and ex- 
 pediency of joining the society, which you have noted. In cases 
 like these, that which is expedient may be deemed necessary, and 
 should be implicitly followed, if nothing on the opposite side be 
 found to counteract it. Methodism, no doubt, has to mouro 
 over many unworthy members ; but, at the same time, I am per- 
 suaded that it can boast of more converted souls than any sect in 
 England. In point of doctrine and discipline, imperfections may 
 be found ; but to remove these will be to introduce others 
 of greater magnitude. My paper is done. May the Lord bless 
 you, and help you! so prays daily 
 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 " Samuel Drew." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 " St. Austell, July 5th, 1814. 
 
 " My DEAR Jacob, 
 
 " Independently of its peculiar modes, the great realities of 
 religion have a claim upon us. By nature we are sinners. We 
 cannot save ourselves. Supernatural assistance is therefore ne- 
 cessary ; and this can only come from God. A deep sense of 
 our unvvorthiness and wants, and a firm persuasion that God, 
 through Jesus Christ, is ready to receive sinners, are the only 
 qualifications which are necessary to our coming to the Saviour. 
 Thus far, my dear son, 1 think you have been brought. Nothing 
 remains, but that you throw yourself, by simple faith, on the 
 Saviour of the world. Faith and prayer are inseparably con- 
 nected. Prayer is the means of application ; faith, that of union. 
 Faith is the gift of God, in answer to earnest prayer. Faith, in 
 its first operations, is prospective ; it anticipates, and expects, 
 and waits for, pardon for the soul. Hence faith precede* justifi- 
 cation, and is the instrument of it. But when a sense of pardon 
 is communicated to the soul, faith has a retrospective operation, 
 and is accompanied with gratitude and love. From this com- 
 munication of favour practical obedience springs ; and the grace 
 with which it is accompanied tends to purify the heart. Such, 
 my dear son, in my view, are the outlines of experimental and 
 practical godliness. May we all live and die in the enjoyment 
 of it. 
 
 s' You will plainly perceive, from the preceding delineation. 
 
RELIGIOUS COUNSEL. 
 
 355 
 
 that name, and sect, and mode, and ceremony have no real con- 
 nection whatever with genuine religion. They may coexist, or 
 they may be disjoined. The jewel may be possessed where the 
 trappings are not, and the trappings may be where the jewel is 
 absent. On these accounts, I wish you to mature your mind on 
 the propriety of becoming a member of the society, that, having 
 fixed, you may feel no wish to retract. Far be it from me to 
 drop these hints to deter you, or to throw obstacles in your 
 way. On the contrary, I rather consider them as rational in- 
 ducements; being well assured, that the more minutely you ex- 
 amine the Methodist doctrines, the more fully a'ou will be con- 
 vinced of their being both scriptural and rational. And I am 
 firmly persuaded, that there is more sterling piety among the 
 Methodists than among any other denomination of Christians 
 with whom I am acquainted. 
 
 "That Christian communion is recommended in Scripture, is 
 a truth too evident to be disputed. ' They that feared the Lord 
 spake often one to another.' (Mai. iii. 16.) And we are cau- 
 tioned against the ' forsaking the assembling of ourselves toge- 
 ther.' (Heb. X. 25.) Indeed, it is by Christian communion that 
 we mutually help each other, and provoke one another to love 
 and good works. It is by this that we guard each other from 
 falling a prey to temptation, and receive assistance in being re- 
 stored, when overcome by any evil. Great and manifold are the 
 advantages which arise from Christian fellowship on earth, as 
 preparatory to a communion of the saints in heaven. 
 
 " Nevertheless, you must not expect to find perfection in any 
 society that is formed of mortals. Frailties, imperfections, 
 errors, and deviations from rectitude seem to be incorporated 
 with the nature of man; so just it is, 
 
 'That truest friends, through error, wound our peace.' 
 
 "But what are these imperfections, when compared with the 
 advantages which are connected with them 1 Nay, what are 
 they, when compared with the evils which we must endure if 
 we avoid them 1 Solitude and seclusion are inconsistent with 
 the nature of civil society ; and, even if they could be enjoyed, 
 they would become nurseries of vice, unless the appetites were 
 regulated by divine grace. In civil society, where no profession 
 of religion is made, you will rarely find any religion to exist. 
 Simple morality may make an amiable citizen; but, being con- 
 fined exclusively to the present life, it makes no provision or 
 preparation for eternity. And, in addition to this, as it leaves 
 the heart unaffected, it renders our situation the more dangerous ; 
 because the aspect being pleasing, the avenui^s of conviction are 
 completely shut. I need not add, that immoral companions 
 require no remarks. 
 
 "Amid this view of things, make it, my dear son, a matter of 
 prayer to God ; and, when this is done with earnestness, he will 
 never fail to direct your steps. Mr. J B has lately be- 
 
356 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 come a member of our society. He became so from a personal 
 conviction of duty. No one, he says, could have persuaded him, 
 and no dissuasives could have deterred him. This was acting 
 nobly. It discovered an independent and rational spirit. May 
 Jacob Drew follow his example. 
 
 " I remain your affectionate father, 
 
 " Samuel Drew." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 " St. Austell, Feb. 15, 1815. 
 
 " My dear Son, 
 
 " On the principal points of difficulty which you have started, 
 I will endeavour to make some remarks. May God render them 
 a blessing to your soul. 
 
 " Your first difficulty arises from the term 'kingdom of God, 
 which seems to be used in Scripture in various senses.' I reply, 
 that, in Scripture, the expression ' kingdom of God,' or ' heaven,' 
 is used in three senses. Fiist, it applies to the light of the gospel 
 as the means of salvation. Secondly, it implies experimental 
 religion, or the. love of God shed abroad in the heart. Thirdly, 
 it implies the kingdom of glory beyond the grave. Now, I am 
 inclined to think, that you will not be able to find any expression 
 in the Bible but what may, without difficulty, be ranged under 
 one of the preceding heads. When, therefore, I observed to 
 you, that I thought you not far from the kingdom of God, I 
 intended to use the expression in the second sense above stated. 
 
 " Secondly, you ask, ' How shall I know when I am thus 
 saved, — restricting the expression, kingdom of God, to mean 
 salvalwn V I admit, with you, that the common answer, ' By 
 the witness of the Spirit,' is vague and indefinite ; and perhaps 
 a particular definition is impossible. There are, however, 
 certain characteristic marks which are properly descriptive, 
 although they convey no definition of the thing. First; The 
 soul that experiences the salvation of God feels gratitude towards 
 him for every spiritual blessing. Secondly : This gratitude is 
 accompanied with a degree of love towards him — and we love 
 him because he first loved us. Thirdly : Gratitude implies con- 
 fidence in his mercies ; and this confidence is faith, whether 
 prospectively or retrospectively exercised. Fourthly : This 
 gratitude leads to obedience, not from a dread of punishment, 
 but from a sense of duty and obligation. Fifthly : This gratitude 
 is accompanied with internal peace ; and peace presupposes a 5 
 removal of condemnation. These are marks of a spiritual salva- j 
 tion. But in what degree these imist be experienced, so as to | 
 form a distinguishing criterion, perhaps none but God can dis- ' 
 cern. If we feel these marks in any degree, let us be thankful ; 
 and, through the exercise of thankfulness for past mercies, we 
 shall assuredly have more. 
 
 " You say, that ' complete salvation implies justification and 
 
BELICIOUS COUNSEL. 
 
 357 
 
 sanctification also.' I readily admit the truth of your observa- 
 tion. But salvation does not in every stage of its existence 
 imply perfect completion ; for, if this were the case, it would 
 imply glorification also, seeing this is included in its final consum- 
 mation. St. John, in his gospel, says, we must be born again. 
 In his epistles he says, that we are first babes, then young men, 
 then fathers in Israel. To be bom is to be justified. This is 
 salvation in primitive possession. Afterward the work is pro- 
 gressive. On this side the grave, it has its completion in sancti- 
 fication, or the purification of our natures ; and on the other 
 side, in complete glorification. You may perceive from hence, 
 that these conclusions even coincide with the language of your 
 objections, viz. ' It is but reasonable to believe, that, when the 
 penitent sinner is oppressed by a painful apprehension of his 
 guilty state, and of the punishment due to his transgressions, 
 God will, on his reconciliation to such a person, relieve him from 
 his painful oppression in a considerable degree, and inspire the 
 penitent with a confidence in his mercy.' 1 admit, with you, 
 that such a confidence in the Divine mercy as is thus inspired 
 has a future aspect ; but I must contend that it is retrospective 
 likewise. Relief from painful oppression, resulting from recon- 
 ciliation, cannot be prospective. The blessings are already en- 
 joyed, and the belief of this is founded upon the evidence which 
 actual possession gives. In the same nnanner, without doubt, 
 it is the privilege of every child of God to have all the blessings 
 he has promised on this side eternity in actual enjoyment ; and 
 when this is the case, faith may be said to be rt-holly retrospective, 
 so far as this is possible with respect to beings whose mode of 
 existence implies progression. But, although I admit it to be the 
 privilege of all to have every blessing thus in actual possession, 
 and to have an indubitable evidence of it, I dare not say that we are 
 under the displeasure of God without it on all occasions. I have 
 already admitted, that the degrees of evidence are so various, 
 that the perfect discrimination of them is known only to God. 
 With every evidence of the Divine favour we should be delighted ; 
 and though it be but small, yet we should be careful not to cast 
 away our confidence, which hath great recompense of reward. 
 
 " Vou say, ' It seems to be a general maxim, that a sense of 
 pardon must precede sanctification ; but if the Almighty with- 
 hold or suspend this assurance, the doctriiie cannot be invariably 
 true.' I believe the maxim to be just ; but I do not see, in all 
 cases, that the evidence of assurance is necessary to establish 
 its existence. Assurance is highly desirable, and certainly 
 attainable ; but I could not infer from hence that assurance is e*- 
 sentiallij necessary, when taken in its full import, to render the 
 maxim true ; neither can I perceive that the maxim will be fal- 
 sified, \{ assurance should sometimes give place to a less luminous 
 degree of evidence. A sense of pardon is an evidence of God's 
 particular favour. Now it is hardly to be conceived, that he 
 would purify the soul of one who was not an object of his favour. 
 
358 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Indeed, the supposition seems to involve a plain contradiction. 
 But, if the soul must be in favour of God prior to its being sancti- 
 fied, then justification must precede sanctification. 
 
 "You also say, 'If I rely upon the atonement of Christ for 
 salvation, and strive, with God's assistance, to obey the precepts 
 of the gospel, why should I despair of his mercy V 1 reply, 
 you have no reason whatever to despair, under these circum- 
 stances ; and to you the lines of the hymn you quoted are strictly 
 applicable — 
 
 ' Drooping soul, shake off thy fears,' &c. 
 
 And again, 
 
 ' Give to the winds thy fears ; 
 Hope, and be undismaved.' 
 
 " ' A want of faith,' you add, ' is generally assigned as the cause 
 of this despondency.' Perhaps it is ; but I think the weakness, 
 infirmity, and ignorance of human nature presents us with a 
 cause that is more reasonable. 
 
 " ' You cannot,' you observe, ' conceive, that if I believe my 
 sins are blotted out, they -jjill be immediately blotted out.' 1 
 answer, neither can 1 ; neither, I should conceive, could any man 
 who possesses two grains of common sense. It is an inversion 
 of the order of nature. It is making the fact depend for its exist- 
 ence upon that evidence which the fact alone can impart. And 
 yet, absurd as it is, I have heard it sometimes roundly asserted 
 from the pulpit, and Mark xi. 20 urged as a proof of its 'reality 
 — ' What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye 
 [shall] receive them, and ye shall have them.' In this passage, 
 the first future tense is evidently implied, and as such it is con- 
 sidered by almost every commentator. Dr. Clarke has passed 
 over this verse in silence, only referring us to a parallel passage 
 in Matt. vii. 7, ' Ask, and it shall be given — seek, and ye shall 
 find — knock, and it shall be opened to you,' &c. You will plainly 
 perceive, that I must draw to a conclusion. Endeavour, my 
 dear son, to hold fast whereunto you have attained. Wait for a 
 brighter manifestation of God's favour than you have ; but do 
 not despair, if it should be withholden. Praise him for what is 
 past, and trust him for what is to come. 
 
 " It is needless to say, how afl'ectionately I love you, and long 
 for your prosperity both temporal and eternal. May the Lord 
 bless and keep you, and make you his for ever. 
 
 " So prays your affectionate father, 
 
 "Samuel Drew." 
 
RELIGIOUS COUNSEL. 
 
 359 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 " 38 Xewgate-Etreet, London, 
 "Aug. 30th, 1826. 
 
 " My dear Sister, 
 
 "1 really wOilder at your doubts respecting your spiritual 
 condition, when you furnish far more substantial evidence of 
 safety than all the tumult of passion, and raptures of a heated 
 imagination can boast You say, that your doubts partially 
 arise from your being unable to name the time and place when 
 the important change was wrought. And can you really think, 
 that none are safe but those who can specify such particulars ? 
 Remember the case of him who had been born blind. When 
 questioned as to particulars, his reply was, 'One thing I know, 
 whereas I was blind, now I see.' This was an argument that 
 the whole Jewish sanhedrim could not answer. I, however, 
 remember, many years ago, when you could state particulars ; 
 and on one occasion when you got into doubting castle, you 
 found deliverance in your new chapel, under a sermon. 
 
 "There was a time when no one was thought converted who 
 could not answer the three following questions — ' time when, 
 manner how, and place where.' But these are now become par- 
 tially obsolete. Let me entreat you to ' cast not away your con- 
 fidence, which hath great recompense of reward.' ' Be thou 
 faithful unto death, and God will give thee a crown of life.' 
 
 ' Give to the winds thy fears ; 
 Hope, and be undismayed.' 
 
 Both threatenings and promises, in the Bible, are always con- 
 nected with a certain description of character, either expressed or 
 implied; and the character must be ours before either the former 
 or the latter can be applicable to us. For the want of attending 
 to .this, many rejoice when they ought to mourn, and many 
 mourn when they ought to rejoice. Let me entreat you to 
 attend to tliis, and then I shall hardly a^ain hear, in the language 
 of-despondency — ' Do you think there is any hope for me V 
 
 " I know the natural bent of your mind is to dweU on the 
 gloomy sides of life and death, of the dispensations of Providence, 
 and even of time and eternity. A mind ihus constituted will 
 feel with agonizing acuteness a portion of suffering that, on 
 another accustomed to look on the luminous side of the picture, 
 would operate with only a diminished degree of influence. It is 
 this morbid sensibility that leads you, in spiritual matters, to 
 doubt your safety, even when every thing in .Scripture, reason, 
 and the experience of all genuine Christians dictates a different 
 result, and points to a different conclusion. This, I should ap- 
 prehend, arises from your making the momentary feehngs of 
 
360 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 your mind the criterion of your safety. Amid all your fears and 
 apprehensions, I could never see any occasion for them ; and 
 would advise you, if possible, to give them to the moles and to 
 the bats, and calmly rely on the merits of a crucified Saviour, in 
 whom you have trusted, and who has promised you shall never 
 be confounded. * « « 
 
 " Your affectionate brother, 
 
 " Samuel Drew." 
 
AN ODE ON CHRISTMAS. 
 
 This piece, which Mr. Drew terms'an " Ode," bears a date nearly twelve 
 months prior to that of the poetical composition quoted at page 84, as the 
 earliest of his extant. The MS. was not found until the volume was nearly 
 through the press ; and though it could not be introduced in its proper 
 order, yet, as an interesting relic, the reader may be gratified by its inser- 
 tion in the Appendix. It is given with no other correction than that of 
 the orthography. There is enough of poetry in the piece to establish a 
 claim to genius, and enough of deviation from propriety, and the rules of 
 correct composition, to show the difficulties with which genius has to 
 contend, when unaided by education. 
 
 Farewell, ye scenes where desolation reigns — 
 
 Pride domineers, and wraps the world in chains ! 
 
 Ye rayless shades of intellectual night, 
 
 Empires in blood that pall the human sight ; 
 
 Ye scenes, in which life's varied forms appear, 
 
 Where heathen gods their magic standards rear, 
 
 And folly, leagued with vice, dance round the passing year. 
 
 Ye lamps, that life's nocturnal portrait drew — 
 
 Heroes and arms — I bid you all adieu ! 
 
 A nobler form, descending from the skies. 
 
 Claims my attention, and detains my eyes ; 
 
 Directs the mind in its uncertain flight. 
 
 And breaks upon me in a flood of light. 
 
 Through night's dim shades a heavenly form descends ; 
 
 Light grace his paths, and peace his steps attends. 
 
 Where careful shepherds watched their fleecy care, 
 
 In all the rigours of December's air, 
 
 A herald voice proclaimed an angel near, 
 
 And with new glories raised the expiring year. 
 
 When thus the form in heavenly strains began— 
 " Hail ! favoured earth ! — Hail ! highly favoured man ! 
 I come, designed by that Almighty Lord, 
 Who formed your worlds with his prolific word, 
 When formless chaos and the realms of night 
 Produced creation to my ravished sight, — 
 H b 
 
362 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 I come, designed by that Almighty King : 
 
 Rejoice, 0 earth! ye barren mountains sing ! 
 
 Through thy domains glad tidings shall abound -, 
 
 Thy sons enslaved shall hear the joyful sound ; 
 
 Through frozen climes, where seas forget to roll, 
 
 Truth shall prevail, and spread from pole to pole ; 
 
 Where burning zones receive the solar rays, 
 
 Joy, breaking forth, the illumined world shall seize : 
 
 No tribes shall mourn a partial favour given ; 
 
 No soul exempt reproach neglectful Heaven. 
 
 For on this day — on this auspicious morn. 
 
 In Bethlehem town the incarnate Godhead's born ; 
 
 The promised Seed prophetic seers foretold — 
 
 Forsaw— predicted— did by faith behold— 
 
 The mighty God ! mankind's eternal Friend ! 
 
 Great Prince of Peace ! whose kingdom knows no end ! 
 
 On hay reclined, in swathes He now appears ; 
 
 A simple manger now the Godhead bears !" 
 
 He paused — when lo ! a multitude was heard, 
 Whose heavenly songs the astonished shepherds scared :- 
 " Glory to God in highest strains be raised ; 
 Feel it, O earth — and be thy Maker praised ; 
 O'er earth's long shores peace shall extend her sway ; 
 Her son shall hear hostilities decay ; 
 (Jood-will to man shall smile on every plain. 
 And peace and plenty greet the world again." 
 Here ceased their song — then from the dusky shade. 
 Through realms of light, their radiant wings displayed. 
 
 Say, then, my muse, what theme will charm the ear. 
 Warm the cold soul, and draw the pious tear"! 
 Say how the Godhead, wrapped in human clay, 
 Threw by the glories of unclouded day, 
 The gospel standard through the skies unfurled, 
 And held out mercy to a ruined world. 
 
 Hail! blessed time ! auspicious era, hail ! 
 Hail I conquering love — and truth that must prevail ! 
 O'er earth's wide face unveil the sacred road. 
 That leads from darkness to the throne of God! 
 The swarthy sons of Afric's torrid soil. 
 And Libya's wastes, shall feel thy genial smile ; 
 India shall rise, forgetful of her stores, 
 To meet salvation on her native shores. 
 No more shall warriors spread their dire alarms, 
 Form new allies, and call the world to arms ; 
 War's fatal trumpet sound her blast no more ; 
 No reeking slaughter bathe her steps in gore. 
 Earth's fertile vales the quickening voice shall hear. 
 Rise into plains, and mountains disappear ; 
 Rough places smoothed shall richest pasture yield, 
 And crooked paths produce a fertile field ; 
 
EABLY METBICAL COMPOSITIOJT. 
 
 3GS 
 
 Thy savage tribes shall be at length subdued, 
 
 And conquered — rise — in righteousness renewed. 
 
 Those swarms tliat pressed where splendid greatness shone, 
 
 Shall quit her interest to promote their own ; 
 
 Despotic power — that human scourge — shall cease, 
 
 And captive slaves from servile chains- release ; 
 
 Types shall no more to ante-types extend ; 
 
 Rites disappear — and priestly order end. 
 
 Refulgent scenes shall these dark days succeed. 
 
 And gospel truths in radiant circles spread ; 
 
 Man's present aims with future interests blend ; 
 
 To distant worlds the rising soul shall tend ; 
 
 Messiah's power shall renovate the whole. 
 
 And truth, combined with love, pervade the human soul. 
 
 Samuel Drew. 
 
 December 25, 1791. 
 
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 abundantly SI 
 
 believed that a)l 
 
 genous trees which h 
 J grow wiUiin this pori 
 
 : with the necessary brevity. ConBidered 
 I aj a catalogue, the work is valuable, an4 
 
18 Juvenile Works Published by Harper <f Brothers. 
 
 LIVES OF THE APOS- 
 TLES AND EARLY MAR- 
 TYRS OF THE CHURCH. 
 By the author of " The Trial 
 of Skill." ISmo. 
 
 The style is *jeau1ifully einiple, 3iiJ Ihe nar- 
 ntive is intersj'erseJ ^^ i h cnn.iMLii!^ oii veflcc- 
 
 prtjsiioQS of praise lo th's work. 
 
 THE SWISS FAMILY 
 ROBINSON ; or, Adventures 
 of a Father and Mother and 
 Four Sons on a Desert Island. 
 The Progress of the Story form- 
 ing a clear Illustration of the 
 first Principles of Natural His- ; 
 tory, and many Branches of 
 Science which most immedi- 
 ately apply to the Business of 
 Life. In 3 vols. 18mo. With 
 Engravings. 
 
 The purpose of this pleasing story is to con 
 Tey ioBtruclion in the arls and Natural History, 
 aod, at the same time, to inculcite by example 
 priociples which lend to the promotion of social 
 happiness. Every one has heard of Robinson 
 Crusoe, and the unrivalled and lon^-continued 
 popularity of that admirable nnrrallve, proves 
 that the tastes and feeiin^s to which it addresses" 
 itself are among the strangest and most univer- 
 gal which belong to human nature, The ad- 
 ventures of the Swiss family are somewhat slm- 
 
 they illuslnite, in the niosi forcible and pleasing 
 maUDer, the efficacy of piely, industry, mge- 
 nuity, and gnod-temper, in Bmoothiiig difficul- 
 ties and procuring enjoymenls under the most 
 adverse circumstances. The slory abounds with 
 instruction and enterlainment, and well deserves 
 
 THE ORNAMEMTS DIS- 
 COVERED. By Mrs. Hughs. 
 18mo. Engravings. 
 
 The reputation of 'Mrs. Hughs (of Philadel- 
 phiAlasan agreeal^le and instructive writer is 
 already firmlv established, tibe has done wiuch 
 foryouth, an^ the present volume will ?.dd to 
 the obligations they owe her. I' is wrillen with , 
 plainness, yet elegance ; ,ind the story, while it I 
 iQCcIcalea useful leason<i in moraliiy and religion, 
 
 SUNDAY EVENINGS, or, 
 an easy Introduction to the 
 Reading of the Bible. [Do- 
 signed for Sunday Reading and 
 Sunday-School Libraries.] 3 
 vols. 18mo. With Engrav- 
 ings. 
 
 'Ihe title of this escellent little work suiB- 
 cicnity explaruii its object. As an introductioa 
 to the knowledge of Scripture History, and aa 
 incentive lo Ihe study of ihe Sacred voluiDO, it 
 is calculaleJ to produce llie most happy efifecti 
 upon Ihe minds of children; and the simplicity 
 ot the language preserves to Ih'; slory all Ihoio 
 
 ►heir want of a perfect umiersianding of tba 
 words they re.id. Besides a developed aoi 
 connected view, in easy language, of the Scrip< 
 ture story itself, the author has endeavoured to 
 intersperse in the narrative audi uolicei of tbo 
 countries spoken of, together with such refer- 
 ences to the New Tes'ament and practical re- 
 marks, as would tend to make the Ijook cithw 
 
 or more valuable in a moral and religious light . 
 and it cannot fail of obtaining the approbatioo 
 of all judicious and pious parents, and of ptOv 
 jog. by the blefcsiug of God, an assistance lo tho 
 
 early knowledge and love of his Sacred Word. 
 
 THE SON OF A GE- 
 NIUS. A Tale, for the Use 
 of Youth. By Mrs. Hofland. 
 18mo. Engravings. 
 
 This admiraljle story has been too long fami- 
 liar to the public — at least to that portion of it 
 which lias advanced beyond ihe period of child- 
 hood—to require either eulogy or descrlptioa. 
 It has for many years maintaioed iu place 
 among the beat and most esteemed juveniia 
 works in the English language; and its popu- 
 larity is easily accounted fur by the touching in- 
 terest of the incidents, and tbe purity of the 
 principles it inculcates both of wisdom and le- 
 ligioD. The publisher? were induced to reprint 
 it, partly by the advice and solicitations of 
 their friends, and their own knowledge of iti 
 merits, and partly by Ihe consideration that it 
 has long been out of print, and that it wai very 
 difficult to procure a copy. 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY; 
 or, Uncle Philip's Conversa- 
 tions with the Children about 
 Tools and Trades among the 
 Inferior Animals. ISmo. With 
 numerous Engravings. 
 
 This work has deservedly received the high- 
 est encomiums, noi only for the extent, olility, 
 and interesting nature of the information it con- 
 veys, but also for Ihe skill wilh which the ideu 
 and language are adapted to Ihe tastes as w«ll 
 ai the capacities of youthful readen. ^But 
 
 and earnest piety which pervades the convera- 
 fions, aiid the excellence of the precepts dnwa 
 from the wonders they disclose. 
 
Works Published by 
 
 Harper ^ Brothers, 31 
 
 NARRATIVE of a VOY- 
 AGE TO THE SOUTH SEAS, 
 m 1829-1831. By Abby Jane 
 MoRRELL, who accompanied 
 her husband, Capt. Benjamin 
 Morrell, Jan., of the Schooner 
 Antarctic. 12mo. Portrait. 
 
 The scenes and idvcniures of which Mrs. 
 
 is tfacir nature, and it is bcIievcU that an ac* 
 count of them, divested of nautical technicali- 
 ties and descriptions purely maritime, will be 
 read with pleasure, especially by readers of her 
 
 EVIDENCE OF THE 
 TRUTH OF THE CHRIS- 
 TIAN RELIGION, derived 
 from the hteral Fulfilment of 
 Prophecy. By the Rev. Alex- 
 ander Keith. 12mo. 
 
 Of the estimation in which this Tolqme is 
 held in England, evidence is afforded by the 
 following itrmarit :— " Few more satisfactory 
 works in confirmation of the inspiration of 
 Scripture have appeared within our own time 
 than Out of Mr. Keith." The writer whoso 
 testimony is thus given is the Rev. Dr. Shut'le- 
 worth, Warden of New College, OxforJ. The 
 work IS so justly appreciated in Edinburgh that 
 it has passed ihrou'h six editions ; and parts of 
 it have been publikbed in tncls in English, 
 French, and German. 
 
 DOMESTIC DUTIES ; or. 
 Instructions to Young Married 
 Ladies, on the Management of 
 their Households, and the Reg- 
 ulation of their Conduct in the 
 Tarious Relations and Duties 
 of Married Life. By Mrs. W. 
 Parkes. With Improvements 
 adapted to the American Read- 
 er. 12mo. 
 
 " The volume before os is a perfect vnde 
 TRsrum for the young married lady, who may 
 
 quette. . . . There is nntbiDg omitifed with 
 which it behooves a lady to be acquainted.*'— 
 JfonUUy Wogoaine. 
 
 A CONCORDANCE TO 
 THE HOLY SCRIPTURES 
 OF THE OLD AND NEW 
 TESTAMENT. By .Toh.v 
 Brown, of Haddington. 32ino. 
 
 The WDalleel form in which th;s conordance 
 sad the t>T)e it so clear that it can be easily rtad. 
 
 THE LIFE OP ANDREW 
 JACKSON, President of the 
 United States of America. By 
 Wm. Cobbett, M.P. 18mo. 
 With a Portrait. 
 
 The Life of id American President, wriden 
 by ail English Member of Parliament, has 
 aomeibin; attractive in its v»ry aanouncement ; 
 and the interrsl in the present case is much io- 
 crvased by the well-known character of Ibe 
 author,.n-bo is the famous Radical member for 
 Oldham, and ediior, or niher wr-ier, of the 
 'Gridiron Roister.' To all who know any 
 thing of William Cobbelt and his strong, ner- 
 
 ihinkiDg, this Utile volume requires do rvcom> 
 
 MRS. JAMESON'S VI- 
 SITS AND SKETCHES AT 
 HOME AND ABROAD. With 
 Tales and Miscellanies, and a 
 new and improved edition of 
 "The Diary of an Ennuyee." 
 In 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 In these delighfful volumes, the richly-itored 
 and highly cutlivaled mind of Mni. Jameson, 
 has inve«ied the scenes and objects of Trhicb she 
 
 tiacive character, with a new and peculiar in- 
 terest. Wherever she has beeo. she has found 
 wmething to charm herself, and of which il is 
 pleasant to hear. All that is rw: in art, wiihia 
 the scope of her observations w shown vividly 
 and beautifully , character and manners are il. 
 lustraled by striking and well-told Incidenta ; 
 scenery of ever>-class^ the rich, the grand, the 
 peicefui and the 5av, is deicribed with t he most 
 graphic and varied skill ; and more than aJl. 
 the great and gnod of human kind, among whom 
 she freely mingled on her way, are brought be- 
 fore us, both in mind and peraon, with a clear- 
 ness and dis^inpishing^etfecl that almost per- 
 
 pfrsonal acquaintance. Genius and educatran 
 ar« in every pa^e ; and the reader feels, that tbr 
 mind with wliicb he is communing is one of 
 the highest oider. 
 
 SIR EDWARD SEA- 
 WARD'S NARRATIVE or 
 HIS SHIPWRECK, and con- 
 sequent Discovery of certain 
 Islands in the Carribbean Sea : 
 with a Detail of many Extraor- 
 dinary and highly Interesting 
 Events in his Life. Edited by 
 Miss Jane Porter In 3 vols. 
 12mo 
 
 " We have finished the peratal of this most 
 affrec-xlle work, and almost rejn^t that th« 
 pleasure of a first perusal h-i? eone by ; Thoi^k 
 It is one of those books which will bsar nsdiof 
 a^ia and agmio." — Cammaaal AritMrtum. 
 
30 Wwks Published by 
 
 Harper Jjr Brothert. 
 
 SKETCHES OF THE 
 LIVES OF DISTINGUISH- 
 ED FEMALES. Written for 
 Girls, with a view to their Men- 
 tal and Moral Improvement. 
 By an American Lady. 18mo. 
 With a Portrait. &c. 
 
 A* CTample acts more forcibly upon fem;ile 
 
 coliarly inslruci.ve, anj 
 
 CAROLINE WESTER- 
 LEY ; or, the Young Traveller 
 from Ohio. 18mo. With En- 
 gravings. 
 
 This work will prove instructive as well as 
 sittractive to young persons. In its pages genius, 
 nature, morality, and religion have been brought 
 into happy combination. It is replete with 
 sound and rational piety, judicious remarlt, and 
 right feeling. 
 
 THE CLERGYMAN'S 
 ORPHAN, and Other Talcs. 
 By a Clergyman, For the Use 
 ofYoulh. ISmo. Engravings. 
 
 The author of the " Clergyman's Orphan" in- 
 forms us that with most of the charac'crs whose 
 tomnDtic history is here recorded he nas pt-r- 
 iona]|y acquainted ; and Touches !hat it is sub- 
 ftantialiv a narrative of facts. The ohjcct of 
 the work is to alrentfthen in the minds of young 
 penons the cooviction of a special supertDtend- 
 iDC Providence. 
 
 UNCLE PHILIPS CON- 
 VERSATIONS with the Chil- 
 dren about Virginia. 18mo. 
 With Engravings. 
 
 The volume with this title is the first of a se- 
 
 for youthful readers, an accurate, though neces- 
 iwily brif f history of the several slates which 
 compote the union. The detiila are as copious 
 »5the Iirail» of the work permit, and great care 
 and skill have been exercised to render them 
 attractive by the aid of personal anecdote and 
 
 UNCLE PHILIP'S CON. 
 VERSATIONS with the ChU- 
 dren about New- York. 18ma 
 With Plates. 
 
 LUTHER AND THE LU- 
 THERAN REFORMATION. 
 By John Scott, A.M. In 2 
 vols. 18mo. With Portraits. 
 
 THE LIFE OF ARCH- 
 BISHOP CRANMER. By 
 Charles Webb Le Bas, A.M. 
 In 2 vols. 18mo. Portrait. 
 
 THE LIFE OF WICLIF 
 By Charles Webb Le Bas, 
 A.M. 18nao. With a Portrait 
 
 THE CONSISTENCY OF 
 THE WHOLE SCHEME or 
 REVEL.\TION, with Itself, 
 and with Human Reason. By 
 Philip Nicholas Shuttlk- 
 woBTH, D.D. 18mo. 
 
 HISTORY OF THE RF^ 
 FORMED RELIGION IN 
 FRANCE. By Rev. Edward 
 Smedley. In 3 vols. 18mo. 
 With Engravings. 
 
 PRESENT STATE OF 
 CHRISTIANITY, and of the 
 Missionary establishments for 
 its Propagation in all Parts of 
 the W'orld. Edited by Frei>- 
 ERic Shoberl. 12mo. 
 
 RELIGIOUS DIS- 
 COURSES. BySmWALTBE 
 Scott, Bart. ISmo. 
 
 SERMONS ON SEVERAL 
 OCCASIONS. By Rev. Johw 
 Wesley, A.M. Containing a 
 Number of Sermons never be- 
 fore published in this Country. 
 I n 3 vols. 8vo. 
 
 SCENES IN OUR PARISH 
 12mo.