of being much happier for it. Two or three plain rules I find of wonderful service in deciding all difficult cases. One is, to do nothing, of which I doubt in any degree the lawfulness; the second, to consider every thing as unlawful, which indisposes me for prayer, and interrupts communion with God; and the third is, never to go into any company, business, or situation, in which I cannot conscientiously ask and expect the divine presence. By the help of these three rules I settle all my doubts in a trice, and find that many things I have hitherto indulged in, are, if not utterly unlawful, at least inexpedient, and I can renounce them without many sighs."

Referring to the dangers inseparable from worldly society, he incidentally mentions one defence against their influence, which was only imaginary : "I consider it a blessing, or endeavor to do so, that I do not possess those talents for shining in company, which are so apt to lead their possessors into too great a fondness for gay and brilliant society. Yet I confess, though I am sensible they would prove a snare to me, I am sometimes tempted to repine at the want of them and the grant of all my wishes would soon render me the most miserable of beings." The circumstances in which this was written, preclude all suspicion of its being the language of affectation.

His determination to exclude himself from company, was very conscientiously formed; and so far was he from making his own practice a law for others, in this matter, he expressly assigns his "weakness and inexperience," as the reason why he "could not indulge in society, without detriment." Besides, situated as he was, he saw 66 no medium between the life of a hermit, and that of a votary of pleasure." If such were the alternative, his decision is to be approved; it resulted from a right application of his "three plain rules," which are certainly scriptural, and worthy of universal adoption. This course was not the fruit of misanthropic feelings; for no man was more susceptible of the delights of friendship, or more highly appreciated its benefits; but how " can two walk together, except they be agreed?" His heart now sighed for friendships founded on a religious basis. He speaks

of "a friend, with whom he could converse on religious subjects, as having long been a desideratum ;" and when he thought he had found such a one among his former beloved asssociates, he expresses the most ardent gratitude to the Giver of every good gift. "I feel a satisfaction," he writes, "on this discovery, similar to what I should feel at meeting a townsman in a desert island. You, who live in the midst of Christian friends, can hardly conceive of it. Associates are pleasant in any pursuit, but especially so in this. Two are better than one. We shall together be better able to stand our ground against the assaults of ridicule and reproach; and may animate and encourage each other in our course.

Having, in a letter to his mother, expressed himself as ready to give almost any thing he possessed for an experienced friend," he anticipates her reply-" You will say, perhaps, the Bible is a friend, which, if duly consulted, would supersede the necessity of any other adviser. It may be so; but we are apt to be bad commentators, A friend can judge

where we are concerned ourselves. of our concerns, and give us better counsel, than, perhaps, he would give himself. We are but poor casuists

in our own affairs."

Some miscellaneous extracts will now be given.

"December 8, 1805.

"Though I have experienced many and great comforts, yet I am at times almost discouraged. My heart seems to be a soil so bad, that all labor is thrown away upon it; for, instead of growing better, it grows worse. What a wearisome task, or rather conflict, it is, to be always fighting with an enemy, whom no defeats can weaken or tire. I am afraid, that many of my desires to be delivered from his power proceed rather from a sinful impatience, than a better source. But it is most distressing, when favored with manifestations of a Saviour's love, to think we shall again sin against and grieve him; especially in the sacrament of the supper, the idea that I shall certainly go away and offend him, who is there set forth Crucified before me, embitters all my happiness."

"MY DEAR SISTER

"December 25.

"I am not very prone to indulge the idea that my happiness can depend on change of place; but when such fancies do gain admittance, home is always the scene of my imaginary bliss. It is however a remedy to consider, that, however we may be separated from our friends in this world, yet if we choose them aright, we may indulge the hope of spending an eternity together in the next.

"I have of late taken some pleasure in recollecting the pilgrimages of our old friend Bunyan, and see a striking propriety in many parts of them which I did not then rightly understand. For sometime past I have been with Tender Conscience in the caves of Good Resolution and Contemplation, and like him fell into the clutches of Spiritual Pride. It is astonishing, and what nothing but sad experience could make us believe, that satan and a corrupt heart, should have the art of extracting the most dangerous poison from those things which apparently would, and certainly ought to, have the most beneficial effects. If I do not, after all, fall into the hands of old Carnal Security, I shall have reason to be thankful. There is such a fascination in the magic circle of worldly pleasures and pursuits, as can hardly be conceived, without experience; and I am astonished and vexed, to find its influence continually thwarting and hindering me. And so many plausible excuses are perpetually suggesting themselves, that compliance can hardly be avoided."

"MY DEAR MOTHER,

"January 25.

"In one of the classics, which form part of my daily occupation, there is an account of a tyrant, who used to torture his subjects, by binding them to dead bodies, and leaving them to perish by an unnatural and painful death. I have often thought the situation of a Christian is, in some respects, like that of these poor wretches. Bound to a loathsome body of sin, from which death alone can free him, and obliged daily to experience effects from it, not much less painful and displeasing to him than the stench of a putrefying carcase was to those who were united to it, he must suffer almost continual torment. I have lately

felt doubtful how far a due resignation to the divine will obliges us to submit with patience to this most painful of all trials; and, since we know that perfection is not granted to any in this world, how far we ought to extend our prayers and wishes. I know there is little danger of being too much engaged in seeking deliverance from sin ; but is there no danger of that fretful impatience, which we are apt to feel on other occasions, gaining admittance under the appearance of an earnest desire for holiness? And is not indolence, and a wish to be freed from the necessity of continual watchfulness and conflict, apt to insinuate itself into our desires and petitions for divine assistance? Sin is a sly traitor, and it is but lately I discovered it in my bosom; and now I am so much afraid of it, that I hardly dare ask assistance at all.

"For this month past I have enjoyed very little of that happiness which I once rejoiced in. Yet, blessed be God! I am not left utterly dead and stupid, and am enabled to persevere in the use of means, though they seldom seem so productive of peace as they once did. I hope I have clearer ideas of my strong, amazingly strong propensity to every thing that is evil, and of the infinite and glorious sufficiency of my Saviour, than I had while my joys were greater. Then I was ready to flatter myself that sin was destroyed; but now I find, by sad experience, it is not only alive, but extremely active; and had I not an almighty helper, I should instantly give up in despair.”

"MY DEAR MOTHER,

"Portland, Feb. 9, 1806.

"For many reasons, it is impossible that my letters should be so acceptable at home, as those I receive from home are to me. You have friends there, to divide your attention, to participate in your care, and to share and increase your pleasures. But I am alone. All my affections must centre at home, and, consequently, I must feel a greater desire to hear from home, and to receive assurances that I am not forgotten, than my friends can possibly have, to hear from me.

"I find nobody, except at times, to whom I can communicate my joys, hopes, desires, and fears; nobody, who can participate my pleasures, or sympathise in my

griefs. It is, perhaps, best for me that it should be so; but it is very unpleasant. Most of my acquaintance consider me, as near as I can guess, but a kind of hypocrite, who must, as a student in divinity, preserve a decent exterior, in order to be respected. However, it is some consolation, that they think the same of every one else. Their opinion is of very trifling consequence. One thing only I wish not to be thought, and that is, what is commonly called a rational Christian, an epithet which is very frequently bestowed on young candidates, and which is almost synonymous with no Christian. Liberal divines are pretty much of the same character."

"MY DEAR MOTHER,

"Portland, April 1, 1806.

"I am now entirely alone, and except a visit once a fortnight from Mr. R. I see no face within my chamber, from one week to another. It is sometimes unpleasant, but I believe very profitable, to be debarred from society. I am so prone to trust to broken cisterns, that nothing, but their being out of my reach, can restrain me. When I come home from school, weary and dull, if I had any earthly friends at hand, I should certainly apply to them for relief; but not having any, I am constrained to go where I am much more sure of finding it. I begin to find that the smiles, with which my early infancy was supported, are changing for the less agreeable, but certainly not less needful, discipline of education; and O, what severe discipline, and how much of it, shall I require! I see already, that hard fare, and hard labor, will be necessary to preserve me from 'waxing fat and kicking;' and if it has this effect, I shall welcome it with pleasure. It seems to me one of the worst of the hellish offspring of fallen nature, that it should have such a tendency to pride, and above all, spiritual pride. How many artifices does it contrive to hide itself. If, at any time, I am favored with clearer discoveries of my natural and acquired depravity and hatefulness in the sight of God, and am enabled to mourn over it, in comes spiritual pride, with " Aye, this is something like! this is holy mourning for sin; this is true humility." If I happen to detect and spurn at these thoughts, immediately he changes his battery and begins,