I hired house, vant, because he would not have an enemy in his more than sufficient to compensate for the loss of mine, because I would have a friend. every otner blessing. usually bestow these encomiums on nor do they usually deserve them; but I have had experience of mine, both in sickness and in health, and never saw his fellow. You may now inform all those whom you think really interested in my welfare, that they have no need to be apprehensive on the score of my happiness at present. And you yourself will believe The river Ouse, I forget how they spell it, is that my happiness is no dream, because I have the most agreeable circumstance in this part of the told you the foundation on which it is built. What world; at this town it is I believe as wide as the I have written would appear like enthusiasm to Thames at Windsor; nor does the silver Thames many, for we are apt to give that name to every better deserve that epithet, nor has it more flowers warm affection of the mind in others which we upon its banks, these being attributes which in have not experienced in ourselves; but to you, strict truth belong to neither. Fluellin would say, who have so much to be thankful for, and a temthey are as like as my fingers to my fingers, and per inclined to gratitude, it will not appear so. there is salmon in both. It is a noble stream to I beg you will give my love to Sir Thomas, bathe in, and I shall make that use of it three and believe that I am obliged to you both for intimes a week, having introduced myself to it for quiring after nie at St. Alban's. the first time this morning. Yours ever, I beg you will remember me to all my friends, which is a task will cost you no great pains to execute-particularly remember me to those of your own house, and believe me Your very affectionate, TO LADY HESKETH. W. C. Huntingdon, July 1, 1765. MY DEAR LADY HESKETH, TO LADY HESKETH. W. C. Huntingdon, July 4, 1765. BEING just emerged from the Ouse, I sit down to thank you, my dear cousin, for your friendly and comfortable letter. What could you think of my unaccountable behaviour to you in that visit I mentioned in my last? I remember I neither spoke to you, nor looked at you. The solution of the SINCE the visit you were so kind as to pay me mystery indeed followed soon after, but at the in the Temple (the only time I ever saw you with- time it must have been inexplicable. The uproar out pleasure,) what have I not suffered! And within was even then begun, and my silence was since it has pleased God to restore me to the use only the sulkiness of a thunderstorm before it of my reason, what have I not enjoyed! You opens. I am glad, however, that the only instance know, by experience, how pleasant it is to feel the in which I knew not how to value your company first approaches of health after a fever; but, Oh was, when I was not in my senses. It was the the fever of the brain! To feel the quenching of first of the kind, and I trust in God it will be the that fire is indeed a blessing which I think it im- last. possible to receive without the most consummate How naturally does affliction make us Chrisgratitude. Terrible as this chastisement is, I ac- tians! and how impossible is it when all human knowledge in it the hand of an infinite justice; help is vain and the whole earth too poor and trinor is it at all more difficult for me to perceive in it the hand of an infinite mercy likewise: when I consider the effect it has had upon me, I am exceedingly thankful for it, and, without hypocrisy, esteem it the greatest blessing, next to life itself, I ever received from the divine bounty. I pray God that I may ever retain this sense of it, and then I am sure I shall continue to be, as I am at present, really happy. fling to furnish us with one moment's peace, how impossible is it then to avoid looking at the gospel! It gives me some concern, though at the same time it increases my gratitude, to reflect that a convert made in Bedlam is more likely to be a stumbling block to others, than to advance their faith. But if it has that effect upon any, it is owing to their reasoning amiss, and drawing their conclusions from false premises. He who can ascribe an amendI write thus to you that you may not think me ment of life and manners, and a reformation of the a forlorn and wretched creature; which you might heart itself, to madness, is guilty of an absurdity be apt to do considering my very distant removal that in any other case would fasten the imputation from every friend I have in the world-a circum- of madness upon himself; for by so doing he asstance which, before this event befel me, would un-cribes a reasonable effect to an unreasonable cause, doubtedly have made me so; but my affliction has and a positive effect to a negative. But when taught me a road to happiness which without it I Christianity only is to be sacrificed, he that stabs should never have found; and I know, and have deepest is always the wisest man. You my dear experience of it every day, that the mercy of God, cousin, yourself will be apt to think carry the to him who believes himself the object of it, is matter too far, and that in the present warinth of my pestering you in this manner; besides, my last was no answer to yours, and therefore I consider myself as still in your debt. To say truth, I have this long time promised myself a correspondence with you as one of my principal pleasures. my heart I make too ample a concession in saying we have not met even by letter almost these two that I am only now a convert. You think I al- years, which will account in some measure for ways believed, and I thought so too; but you were deceived, and so was I. I called myself indeed a Christian, but He who knows my heart knows that I never did a right thing, nor abstained from a wrong one, because I was so. But if I did either, it was under the influence of some other motive. And it is such seeming Christians, such pretending believers, that do most mischief to the cause, and furnish the strongest arguments to support the infidelity of their enemies: unless profession and conduct go together, the man's life is a lie, and the validity of what he professes itself is called in question. The difference between a Christian and an Unbeliever would be so striking, months. if the treacherous allies of the church would go see me. I was far from well when he came in; over at once to the other side, that I am satisfied religion would be no loser by the bargain. I should have written to you from St. Alban's long since, but was willing to perform quarantine first, both for my own sake and because I thought my letters would be more satisfactory to you from any other quarter. You will perceive I allowed myself a very sufficient time for the purpose, for I date my recovery from the twenty-fifth of last July, having been ill seven months, and well twelve It was on that day my brother came to yet though he only staid one day with me, his As far as I am acquainted with this place, I like it extremely. Mr. Hodgson, the minister of the parish, made me a visit the day before yesterday. He is very sensible, a good preacher, and conscientious in the discharge of his duty. He is very well known to Doctor Newton, Bishop of Bristol, the author of the treatise on the Prophecies, one of our best bishops, and who has written the most demonstrative proof of the truth of Christianity, in my mind, that ever was published. I reckon it one instance of the providence that has attended me throughout this whole event, that instead of being delivered into the hands of one of the London physicians, who were so much nearer that I wonder I was not, I was carried to Doctor Cotton. I was not only treated by him with the greatest tenderness while I was ill, and attended with the utmost diligence, but when my reason was restored to me, and I had so much need of a religious friend to converse with, to whom I could open my mind upon the subject without reserve, I could hardly have found a fitter person for the purpose. My eagerness and anxiety to settle my opinions upon that long neglected point made it There is a village called Hertford, about a mile necessary that, while my mind was yet weak, and and a half from hence. The church there is very my spirits uncertain, I should have some assist- prettily situated upon a rising ground, so close to ance. The doctor was as ready to administer the river that it washes the wall of the churchyard. relief to me in this article likewise, and as well I found an epitaph there, the other morning, the qualified to do it, as in that which was more imme- two first lines of which being better than any thing diately his province. How many physicians would else I saw there I made shift to remember. It have thought this an irregular appetite, and a is by a widow on her husband. symptom of remaining madness! But if it were "Thou wast too good to live on earth with me, The distance of this place from Cambridge is the worst circumstance belonging to it. My brother and I are fifteen miles asunder, which, considering that I came hither for the sake of being near him, is rather too much. I wish that young man was better known in the family. He has as many good qualities as his nearest kindred could wish to find in him. As Mr. Quin very roundly expressed himself upon some such occasion, 'here is very plentiful accommodation, and great happiness of provision.' So that if I starve, it must be through forgetfulness, rather than scarcity. Fare thee well, my good and dear cousin. TO LADY HESKETH. MY DEAR COUSIN, and you are so fond of that which is so, that I am sure you will like it. July 12, 1776. My dear cousin, how happy am I in having a You are very good to me, and if you will only friend to whom I can open my heart upon these continue to write at such intervals as you find con- subjects! I have many intimates in the world, venient, I shall receive all that pleasure which I and have had many more than I shall have hereproposed to myself from our correspondence. I after, to whom a long letter on these most impordesire no more than that you would never drop tant articles would appear tiresome, at least, if not me for any great length of time together, for I shall impertinent. But I am not afraid of meeting with then think you only write because something hap- that reception from you, who have never yet made pened to put you in mind of me, or for some other it your interest that there should be no truth in the reason equally mortifying. I am not however so word of God. May this everlasting truth be your unreasonable as to expect you should perform this comfort while you live, and attend you with peace act of friendship so frequently as myself, for you and joy in your last moments! I love you too live in a world swarming with engagements, and well not to make this a part of my prayers, and my hours are almost all my own. You must every when I remember my friends on these occasions, day be employed in doing what is expected from there is no likelihood that you can be forgotten. you by a thousand others, and I have nothing to Yours ever, W. C. do but what is most agreeable to myself. P. S. Cambridge.-I add this postscript at my brother's rooms. He desires to be affectionately remembered to you, and if you are in town about a fortnight hence, when he proposes to be there himself, will take a breakfast with you. TO LADY HESKETH. MY DEAR COUSIN, Our mentioning Newton's treatise on the Prophecies brings to my mind an anecdote of Dr. Young, who, you know, died lately at Welwyn. Dr. Cotton, who was intimate with him, paid him a visit about a fortnight before he was seized with his last illness. The old man was then in perfect health; the antiquity of his person, the gravity of utterance, and the earnestness with which he discoursed about religion, gave him, in the doctor's eye, the appearance of a prophet. They had been delivering their sentiments upon this book of NewIf I was to measure your obligation to write by ton, when Young closed the conference thus:- my own desire to hear from you, I should call you 'My friend, there are two considerations upon an idle correspondent if a post went by without which my faith in Christ is built upon a rock: the bringing me a letter, but I am not so unreasonafall of man, the redemption of man, and the resur-ble; on the contrary, I think myself very happy in rection of man, the three cardinal articles of our hearing from you upon your own terms, as you find religion, are such as human ingenuity could never most convenient. Your short history of my family have invented, therefore they must be divine.- is a very acceptable part of your letter; if they The other argument is this-If the Prophecies really interest themselves in my welfare, it is a have been fulfilled (of which there is abundant mark of their great charity for one who has been demonstration) the scripture must be the word of God; and if the scripture is the word of God, christianity must be true.' a disappointment and a vexation to them ever since he has been of consequence to be either. My friend, the major's behaviour to me, after all he suffered by my abandoning his interest and my own in so miserable a manner, is a noble instance of generosity, and true greatness of mind; and indeed I know no man in whom those qualities are This treatise on the prophecies serves a double purpose; it not only proves the truth of religion, in a manner that never has been nor ever can be controverted, but it proves likewise, that the Roman catholic is the apostate and antichristian more conspicuous; one need only furnish him with church, so frequently foretold both in the old and an opportunity to display them, and they are alnew testaments. Indeed, so fatally connected is ways ready to show themselves in his words and the refutation of popery with the truth of christi- actions, and even in his countenance at a moment's anity, when the latter is evinced by the completion warning. I have great reason to be thankful---I of the prophecies, that in proportion as light is have lost none of my acquaintance but those whom thrown upon the one, the deformities and errors I determined not to keep. I am sorry this class is of the other are more plainly exhibited. But I so numerous. What would I not give, that every leave you to the book itself; there are parts of it friend I have in the world were not almost but which may possibly afford you less entertainment altogether christians! My dear cousin, I am half than the rest, because you have never been a afraid to talk in this style, lest I should seem to school-boy; but in the main it is so interesting, indulge a censorious humour, instead of hoping, as I ought, the best for all men. But what can be tal parts of it; but the matter of it is that upon said against ocular proof? and what is hope when which it principally stakes its credit with us, and it is built upon presumption? To use the most the style, however excellent and peculiar to itself, holy name in the universe for no purpose, or a bad is only one of those many external evidences by one, contrary to his own express commandment: which it recommends itself to our belief. Yours, W. C. to pass the day, and the succeeding days, weeks, I shall be very much obliged to you for the book and months, and years, without one act of private you mention; you could not have sent me any devotion, one confession of our sins, or one thanks- thing that would have been more welcome, unless giving for the numberless blessings we enjoy; to you had sent me your own meditations instead of hear the word of God in publie with a distracted them. attention, or with none at all; to absent ourselves voluntarily from the blessed communion, and to live in the total neglect of it, though our Saviour has charged it upon us with an express injunction, TO LADY HESKETH. are the common and ordinary liberties which the Huntingdon, August 17, 1765. generality of professors allow themselves: and You told me, my dear cousin, that I need not what is this but to live without God in the world! fear writing too often, and you perceive I take you Many causes may be assigned for this antichris-at your word. At present, however, I shall do tian spirit, so prevalent among Christians; but one little more than thank you for the Meditations, of the principal 1 take to be their utter forgetful-which I admire exceedingly: the author of them ness that they have the word of God in their pos- manifestly loved the truth with an undissembled session. affection, had made a great progress in the knowMy friend sir William Russell was distantly ledge of it, and experienced all the happiness that related to a very accomplished man, who, though naturally results from that noblest of attainments. he never believed the gospel, admired the scrip- There is one circumstance, which he gives us fretures as the sublimest compositions in the world, quent occasion to observe in him, which I believe and read them often. I have been intimate myself will ever be found in the philosophy of every true with a man of fine taste, who has confessed to me Christian. I mean the eminent rank which he that, though he could not subscribe to the truth assigns to faith among the virtues, as the source of christianity itself, yet he never could read St. and parent of them all. There is nothing more Luke's account of our Saviour's appearance to the infallibly true than this, and doubtless it is with a two disciples going to Emmaus, without being view to the purifying and sanctifying nature of a wonderfully affected by it; and he thought that true faith, that our Saviour says, 'He that beif the stamp of divinity was any where to be found lieveth in me hath everlasting life,' with many in scripture, it was strongly marked and visibly other expressions to the same purpose. Consiimpressed upon that passage. If these men, whose dered in this light, no wonder it has the power of hearts were chilled with the darkness of infidelity, salvation ascribed to it! Considered in any other, could find such charms in the mere style of the we must suppose it to operate like an oriental talisscripture, what must they find there, whose eye man, if it obtains for us the least advantage, which penetrates deeper than the letter, and who firmly is an affront to him who insists upon our having believe themselves interested in all the invaluable it, and will on no other terms admit us to his faprivileges of the gospel? He that believeth on vour. I mention this distinguishing article in his ine is passed from death unto life,' though it be as Reflections the rather, because it serves for a solid plain a sentence as words can form, has more foundation to the distinction I made, in my last, beauties in it for such a person than all the labours between the specious professor and the true be antiquity can boast of. If my poor man of taste, liever, between him whose faith is his Sundaywhom I have just mentioned, had searched a little suit and him who never puts it off at all—a disfurther, he might have found other parts of the tinction I am a little fearful sometimes of making, sacred history as strongly marked with the cha- because it is a heavy stroke upon the practice of racters of divinity as that he mentioned. The more than half the Christians in the world. parable of the prodigal son, the most beautiful fic- My dear cousin, I told you I read the book with tion that ever was invented; our Saviour's speech great pleasure, which may be accounted for from to his disciples, with which he closes his earthly its own merit, but perhaps it pleased me the more ninistration, full of the sublimest dignity and ten- because you had travelled the same road before derest affection, surpass every thing that I ever me. You know there is such a pleasure as this, read, and, like the spirit by which they were dic- which would want great explanation to some folks, tated, fly directly to the heart. If the scripture being perhaps a mystery to those whose hearts are did not disdain all affectation of ornament, one a mere muscle, and serve only for the purposes of thould call these, and such as these, the ornamen- an even circulation. W C. TO LADY HESKETH. them with salutary properties on purpose that we might avail ourselves of them, otherwise that part Sept. 4, 1765. of his creation were in vain. But to impute our THOUGH I have some very agreeable acquaintance recovery to the medicine, and to carry our views no t Huntingdon, my dear cousin, none of their further, is to rob God of his honour; and is saying visits are so agreeable as the arrival of your letters. in effect he has parted with the keys of life and I thank you for that which I have just received death, and, by giving to a drug the power to heal from Droxford; and particularly for that part of it us, has placed our lives out of his own reach. He where you give me an unlimited liberty upon the that thinks thus may as well fall upon his knees subject I have already so often written upon. at once, and return thanks to the medicine that Whatever interests us deeply as naturally flows cured him, for it was certainly more immediately into the pen as it does from the lips, when every instrumental in his recovery than either the aporestraint is taken away, and we meet with a friend thecary or the doctor. My dear cousin, a firm perindulgent enough to attend to us. How many, in suasion of the superintendence of Providence over all that variety of characters with whom I am ac- all our concerns is absolutely necessary to our hapquainted, could I find after the strictest search, to piness. Without it we can not be said to believe whom I could write as I do to you? I hope the in the scripture, or practise any thing like resignanumber will increase. I am sure it can not easily tion to his will. If I am convinced that no afllicbe diminished. Poor ▬▬▬! I have heard the tion can befal me without the permission of God, whole of his history, and can only lament what I I am convinced likewise that he sees and knows am sure I can make no apology for. Two of my that I am afflicted; believing this, I must in the friends have been cut off during my illness, in the same degree believe that, if I pray to him for demidst of such a life as it is frightful to reflect upon; liverance, he hears me; I must needs know likeand here am I, in better health and spirits than I wise with equal assurance that, if he hears, he will can almost remember to have enjoyed before, after also deliver me, if that will upon the whole be most having spent months in the apprehension of instant conducive to my happiness; and if he does not dedeath. How mysterious are the ways of Provi- liver me, I may be well assured that he has none dence! Why did I receive grace and mercy? Why but the most benevolent intention in declining it. was I preserved, afflicted for my good, received, as He made us, not because we could add to his hap I trust, into favour, and blessed with the greatest piness, which was always perfect, but that we happiness I can ever know or hope for in this life, might be happy ourselves; and will he not in all while these were overtaken by the great arrest, his dispensations towards us, even in the minutest, unawakened, unrepenting, and every way unpre-consult that end for which he made us? To suppared for it? His infinite wisdom, to whose in- pose the contrary, is (which we are not always finite mercy ey I owe it all, can solve these questions, aware of) affronting every one of his attributes; and none beside him. If a free-thinker, as many and at the same time the certain consequence of a man miscalls himself, could be brought to give a disbelieving his care for us is, that we renounce utserious answer to them, he would certainly say-terly our dependence upon him. In this view it 'Without doubt, sir, you was in great danger, you will appear plainly that the line of duty is not had a narrow escape, a most fortunate one indeed.' stretched too tight, when we are told that we ought How excessively foolish, as well as shocking! As to accept every thing at his hands as a blessing, if life depended upon luck, and all that we are or and to be thankful even while we smart under the can be, all that we have or hope for, could possibly rod of iron with which he sometimes rules us. be referred to accident. Yet to this freedom of Without this persuasion, every blessing, however thought it is owing that he, who, as our Saviour we may think ourselves happy in it, loses its tells us, is thoroughly apprized of the death of the greatest recommendation, and every affliction is inmeanest of his creatures, is supposed to leave those, tolerable. Death itself must be welcome to hira whom he has made in his own image to the mercy who has this faith, and he who has it not must aim of chance; and to this, therefore, it is likewise ow- at it, if he is not a madman. You can not think ing that the correction which our heavenly Father how glad I am to hear you are going to commence bestows upon us, that we may be fitted to receive lady and mistress of Freemantle.* I know it well, his blessing, is so often disappointed of its benevo- and I could go from Southampton blindfold. You lent intention, and that men despise the chastening are kind to invite me to it, and I shall be so kind to of the Almighty. Fevers and all diseases are ac- myself as to accept the invitation, though I should cidents; and long life, recovery at least from sick- not for a slight consideration be prevailed upon to ness, is the gift of the physician. No man can be quit my beloved retirement at Huntingdon. a greater friend to the use of means upon these occasions than myself, for it were presumption and enthusiasm to neglect them. God has endued Yours ever, W.C. * Freemantle, a village near Southampton |