"Where is to-morrow? In another world."

While, therefore, Mr. B. employed every method to preserve his family from mixing with a dissipated and dangerous world, he strove by every means to render their home delightful, and spared no expense that could make it so. He was in his family, not only the pious father, but also the pleasant friend and companion. While he instructed, he entertained: while he restrained, he soothed. In a word, those knew him not who did not know that he was a truly affectionate husband, a tender parent, a steady friend, a loyal subject, an honest man, and a real Christian.

I have been able to collect nothing further concerning him as a man and as an artist; but, the character of a real Christian last-mentioned being as rare as it is superior, and the author having known him well in this respect, he feels himself bound to speak more largely on this part of his subject.

It does not appear at what time, or by what means, Mr. B. received his first religious impressions. It is said that he descended from pious ancestors. His father was remarkable, even at that day, for his piety: he seldom sat down to a meal without opening his Bible. But, though the son does not seem early to have trod in his father's steps, it is more than probable the father's instructions and example had made a lodgement in the mind of the son. Children of a real Christian receive more conviction than they generally express. I speak from the experience of my own childhood. There is something forcibly impressive in the course of a godly man: it silently, and at times irresistibly, attacks the heart, when no direct address is made to the ear.

But, though I can learn nothing of the history of his mind, as to its religious commencement or earlier progress, certain it is, that, for many years before his death, Mr. B. was a bright example to his family and

to the world.

Whatever defects, incident to man, might sometimes be observed, this man's character was unequivocal. His virtues were real: they grew from a root: and that root was Christianity. In this he was decided. Religion, with him, was not the Sunday coat of the formalist; much less was it the vile cloak of the hypocrite. It was neither a system of mere opinions, nor the cant of a party; but a change of heart, and hope full of immortality, grounded alone on the work of a Redeemer. Occupied with business, exalted by favour, and tempted with wealth, religion still was his grand concern. Animated by this, his family dwelt in a house of daily prayer and spiritual instruction. He even used to visit his workmen when sick, and discourse with them on the important subject that lay nearest his heart: in some instances, where he deemed it proper, he prayed with and for them at their bed-side.

For though he plainly foresaw that vital godliness must bear those stigmas with which the thoughtless or the formal agree to brand every man who dares to differ from themselves; and, though he knew that one rising into publicity must lay his account for them,(a consideration, however, which has made some to shrink, and even tremble, who might have been supposed quite superior to the ignorance and malevolence of such attacks:) yet, feeling the alternative before him extreme, and the object infinite, he determined to yield up no essential truth, nor to make any temporising concession, in order to humour the blind or flatter the proud. As the reader may wish to inquire what truths he deemed so essential, take a specimen of the manner as well as the matter of them:

"I find I can know but little of even the world before me; nor can I, independently, take a single step in safety: what then can I do with respect to the next world without my Bible? I find myself, indeed, in the midst of a system of deep moral dis

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order, and perpetual vicissitude:-If I listen to the philosophers, I hear them obtruding ten thousand opinions, which only tend to prove each other fools. Besides which, none of them offers any thing that meets, and much less that relieves, my case. One cheering light only shines into this our moral darkness. It shows me the holy law I ought to obey, and declares my true character as a transgressor from the womb. I feel that very depravity and weakness in my nature which it describes. I have erred and strayed like a lost sheep, and feel no health in me. In such a state, dare I venture my soul upon conjectures and probabilities? Once, indeed, I was driven to lay hold on the only hope set before me in the Gospel, from imperious necessity: but, since, I feel drawn to embrace it for its excellence. If infinite wisdom, holiness, power, and love, unite in appointing my ransom only through a Saviour on his cross, God forbid that I should glory save in that alone. There I see the perfections of God harmonized his law magnified-the evil of sin exposed. I see the worth of the soul—the vanity of the world, and the grace and grandeur of the Gospel. With a dispensation so suited to my condition, can I hesitate? I tremble at the thought of being found negligent under a constitution in which God the Father is willing to become my father; God the Son my redeemer; God the Spirit my guide, sanctifier, and comforter. Besides which, in this high and warranted friendship, I find not only motive but strength for proceeding soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world, and confidence to assuredly wait for a better. I have, as well as others, looked around me for some other standing, but find I can abide possible consequences upon no lower ground. I will, therefore, neither be frowned nor flattered out of a privilege of which I am so distinctly conscious. A man may as well tell me I never

received nourishment from bread, nor light nor warmth from the sun! Verily it is Christianity or nothing, or worse than nothing."*

Mr. B.'s sabbaths were consecrated to God. On those days, if any particularly insisted upon seeing him, they were admitted: but commonly they went away, whatever their rank in life, in a short time finding the only business they could transact with him then was to obtain part of a sermon. This, however, he managed with such address, that his friends generally left him in perfect good humour. For, though he often expressed his high disapprobation of some religious characters, who mistake their disgusting rudeness for godly zeal, and their savageness of manner for faithful dealing, he was firm and inflexible in the defence of the truth upon every proper occasion. Two or three authentic anecdotes will help me to convey a more exact idea of his sentiments and conduct on such occasions.

A Baronet, who is still living, and who was examining his works, perceived among them a bust of the late Rev. Mr. Whitfield. "Mr. B." said he, 'after all that has been said, this was a truly great man-he was the founder of a new religion." "A new religion, sir!" replied Mr. B. "Yes," said the Baronet, "What do you call it?"" 'Nothing," replied Mr. B. "but the old religion revived with new energy, and treated as if the preacher really meant what he said."

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While Mr. B. was remarkably pleasant in society, he was often mortified at meeting the insipid and trifling turn which conversation generally takes, even in what is called the best company. This, indeed, is a general confession; yet few have courage or ability sufficient to stem the shallow, babbling torrent in its unmeaning course. Mr. B. however, generally kept

* More of his sentiments of this kind may be seen in the letters placed at the conclusion.

upon the watch for an opportunity at which some rational, if not religious, subject might be introduced. Upon such an occasion, he made (but quite opportunely) a religious remark to a lady who sat next him. "As to that, Mr. B." said she, "my religion is to fear God and keep his commandments; so we will talk no more of such matters." "But, madam," replied Mr. B. "you will recollect that it is said, They that FEARED the Lord SPAKE OFTEN one to another."

At the time he was putting up the monument of Lord Chatham, a minister, to whom Mr. B. was an utter stranger, was walking through the Abbey; and coming unseen, tapped Mr. B. on the shoulder, saying, "Take care what you are about-you work for eternity," (alluding to the story of Zeuxis.) It happened the next morning, that Mr. B. heard this gentleman deliver a discourse from the pulpit, and, watching him in his passage to the vestry, he came behind him, and tapping him in a similar manner, said, "Take care what you are about-you work for eternity."

But Mr. B. was a Christian upon a larger scale than many, whose piety is too much confined to their own heart, and to their family and friends. His mind was

continually on the wing to counteract the desperate attempts made, particularly for years past, to overturn church and state, order and godliness. For though, from violent publications which he had read, he feared that the indiscrimination and misrepresentation of some loyalists would tend more to bring a good cause into disgrace than the craft or violence of its bitterest enemies; yet he still abhorred from his heart the spirit of the Jacobins. "These fellows," said he. "are famous at the pick-axe-They can quickly pull down a palace, but cannot build so much as a shed. They affect to illuminate the world; but it is by the light of a conflagration, which discovers nothing but the desolation it spreads. Their disorder is treated as new, but it was always in human nature; and, un

VOL. I.

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