which he was reduced in the pursuit of this scheme : nor can romance exceed the detail. But the particulars of his long journey, till he arrived in London, and those which have since occurred, would not be proper, at present, for any one to record except himself; and I cannot but wish he would favour the world with them, on the principle which led Mr. N. to write his "Narrative." To London, however, he came; and then he seemed to come to himself. He had heard Mr. N.'s character, and on a Sunday evening he came to St. Mary Woolnoth, and stood in one of the aisles while Mr. N. preached. In the course

of that week he wrote Mr. N. some account of his adventure, and state of mind. Such circumstances could be addressed to no man more properly. Mr. N.'s favourite maxim was often in his mouth, more often in his actions, and always in his heart;

Haud ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco.

Mr. N. therefore gave notice from the pulpit on the following Sunday evening, that, if the person was present who had sent him such a letter, he would be glad to speak with him.

Mr. ******** gladly accepted the invitation, and came to Mr. N.'s house, where a friendship began which continued till Mr. N.'s death. Mr. N. not only afforded this youth the instruction which he, at this period, so deeply needed; but, marking his fine abilities and corrected inclination, he introduced him to Henry Thornton, Esq. who, inheriting his father's unbounded liberality and determined adherence to the cause of real religion, readily patronized the stranger. By the munificence of this gentleman, he was supported through a university education, and was afterward ordained to the curacy of

It

was, however, thought expedient that his talents should be employed in an important station abroad, which he readily undertook, and in which he now maintains a very distinguished character.

It ought not to be concealed, that, since his advancement, he has not only returned his patron the whole expense of his university education; but has also placed in his hands an equal sum, for the education of some pious youth, who might be deemed worthy of that assistance once afforded to himself!

Mr. N. used to spend a month or two, annually, at the house of some friend in the country. He always took an affectionate leave of his congregation before he departed; and spake of his leaving town as quite uncertain of returning to it, considering the variety of incidents which might prevent that return. Nothing was more remarkable than his constant habit of regarding the hand of God in every event, however trivial it might appear to others. On every occasion -in the concerns of every hour-in matters public or private, like Enoch, he walked with God. Take a single instance of his state of mind in this respect. In walking to his church he would say, " The way of man is not in himself, nor can he conceive what belongs to a single step. When I go to St. Mary Woolnoth, it seems the same whether I turn down Lothbury or go through Old Jewry; but the going through one street and not another may produce an effect of lasting consequences. A man cut down my hammock in sport: but had he cut it down half an hour later, I had not been here; as the exchange of crew was then making. A man made a smoke on the sea shore at the time a ship passed, which was thereby brought to, and afterward brought me to England."

Mr. N. had experienced a severe stroke soon after he came to St. Mary's, and while he resided in Charles' Square, in the death of his niece, Miss Eliza Cunningham. He loved her with the affection of a parent, and she was, indeed, truly lovely. He had brought her up; and had observed, that, with the most amiable natural qualities, she possessed a real piety. With every possible attention from Mr. and Mrs.

Newton and their friends, they saw her gradually sink into the arms of death: but fully prepared to meet him, as a messenger sent from a yet kinder Father; to whom she departed, October 6th, 1785, aged fourteen years and eight months. On this occasion Mr. N. published some brief memoirs of her character and death.

In the years 1784 and 1785, Mr. N. preached a course of sermons, on an occasion, of which he gives the following account in his first discourse:-"Conversation, in almost every company, for some time past, has much turned upon the commemoration of Handel; and, particularly, on his oratorio of the ' Messiah.' I mean to lead your meditations to the language of the oratorio; and to consider, in their order, (if the Lord, on whom our breath depends, shall be pleased to afford life, ability, and opportunity) the several sublime and interesting passages of Scripture, which are the basis of that admired composition.' In the year 1786, he published these discourses, in two volumes octavo.

There is a passage so original, at the beginning of his fourth sermon, from Mal. iii, 1-3: The Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple, &c. that I shall transcribe it for the use of such as have not seen these discourses: at the same time, it will, in a few words, convey Mr. N.'s idea of the usual performance of this oratorio, or attending its performance, in present circumstances.

"Whereunto shall we liken the people of this generation, and to what are they like? I represent to myself a number of persons, of various characters, involved in one common charge of high treason. They are already in a state of confinement, but not yet brought to their trial. The facts, however, are so plain, and the evidence against them so strong and pointed, that there is not the least doubt of their guilt being fully proved, and that nothing but a par

don can preserve them from punishment. In this situation, it should seem their wisdom to avail themselves of every expedient in their power for obtaining mercy. But they are entirely regardless of their dan ger, and wholly taken up in contriving methods of amusing themselves, that they may pass away the term of their imprisonment with as much cheerfulness as possible. Among other resources, they call in the assistance of music. And, amidst a great variety of subjects in this way, they are particularly pleased with one: they choose to make the solemnities of their impending trial, the character of their judge, the methods of his procedure, and the awful sentence to which they are exposed, the ground-work of a musical entertainment: and, as if they were quite unconcerned in the event, their attention is chiefly fixed upon the skill of the composer, in adapting the style of his music to the very solemn language and subject with which they are trifling. The king, however, out of his great clemency and compassion toward those who have no pity for themselves, prevents them with his goodness: undesired by them, he sends them a gracious message he assures them, that he is unwilling they should suffer: he requires, yea, he entreats them to submit: he points out a way in which their confession and submission shall be certainly accepted: and, in this way, which he condescends to describe, he offers them a free and a full pardon. But, instead of taking a single step toward a compliance with his goodness, they set his message likewise to music and this, together with a description of their present state, and of the fearful doom awaiting them if they continue obstinate, is sung for their diversion; accompanied with the sound of cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and all kinds of instruments. Surely, if such a case as I have supposed could be found in real life, though I might admire the musical taste of these people, I should commiserate their insensibility!"

But clouds return after the rain: a greater loss than that of Miss C. was to follow. Enough has been said in these Memoirs already to show the more than ordinary affection Mr. N. felt for her who had been so long his idol, as he used to call her; of which I shall add but one more instance, out of many that might easily be collected.

Being with him at the house of a lady at Blackheath, we stood at a window which had a prospect of Shooter's Hill. 66 Ah," said Mr. N. I remember the many journies I took from London to stand at the top of that hill, in order to look toward the part in which Mrs. N. then lived: not that I could see the spot itself, after travelling several miles, for she lived far beyond what I could see, when on the hill; but it gratified me even to look toward the spot: and this I did always once, and sometimes twice a week." "Why," said I, "this is more like one of the vagaries of romance than of real life." "True," replied he: "but real life has extravagancies that would not be admitted to appear in a well-written romance-they would be said to be out of nature."

In such a continued habit of excessive attachment, it is evident how keenly Mr. N. must have felt, while he observed the progress of a threatening induration in her breast. This tumour seemed to have arisen from a blow she received before she left Liverpool. The pain it occasioned at the time soon wore off, but a small lump remained in the part affected. In October, 1788, on the tumour's increasing, she applied to an eminent surgeon, who told her it was a cancer, and now too large for extraction, and that he could only recommend quiet. As the spring of 1789 advanced, her malady increased: and, though she was able to bear a journey to Southampton, from which she returned, in other respects, tolerably well, she grew gradually worse with the cancer, till she expired December 15, 1790.