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the truth in his heart. He, that backbiteth not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbour, nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbour. In whose eyes a vile person is contemned: but he honoureth them that fear the Lord. He, that sweareth To His own HURT, and CHANGETH NOT. He, that putteth not out his money to usury, nor taketh reward against the innocent. He, that doeth these things, shall never be moved.” Among many other instances of his probity, one, in his early childhood, is singular. His father went on business to the India House, and took his son with him : while he was transacting his business, his son was dismissed, and directed to wait for him at the India House door. His father, on finishing his business, went out at another door, and entirely forgot that he had ordered his son to wait for him. In the evening, his mother, missing the child, inquired where he was : on which his father, recollecting his directions, said, “You may depend on it, he is still waiting where I appointed him.” He immediately returned to the India House, and found him on the spot where he had been ordered to wait. He knew that his father ExPECTED him to wait, and probity kept him from disappointing expectation. • . At no period of Mr. Cecil's life, even at the worst of times, did he ever cease to regulate his actions by a principle of honour. The strong and active mind which he possessed, when a child, put him on many projects, which made great demands on his pocket-money; and, had not a principle of integrity, restrained him, he might have supplied himself from his father's bureau, which he saw left open day after day, with considerable sums of money, which his father was in the habit of throwing into it without taking account of it :—While
his son knew that any being taken from it would VOL. I.
never have been discovered, he felt a horror at the thought of availing himself of the smallest sum, although opportunity and necessity were so com- . bined to form a temptation to so young a subject. It was a great perservation to Mr. C. that while he was under the “reign of sin,” he had an utter detestation of the leading vices so incident to youth: He equally abhorred the character of the liar, the drunkard, and the epicure. . But I will not detain the reader by enumerating facts. I am aware that persons, not fully comprehending Mr. Cecil's character for want of more interior knowledge of it and opportunity of closer observation, may think that I am influenced by partiality. I can only leave such persons to THINK–while I remain to KNow, that, as was said by the Queen of Sheba, The half is not told. Not that I mean to convey an idea of a PERFECT character, while I slightly glance at qualities little known, in one who stood so high in attainment, as a man and a Christian, yet was so practically penetrated with a sense of his own deficiencies, and so humbled by this view—and where any thing, which he had said or done, could give pain to others, so anxious to render sevenfold back;-so that. I wish for no higher pedestal upon which to exhibit his excellencies, than those things which he viewed as his defects. . The defects of a husband, however, where they do exist, it becomes not a wife to discuss, even where they are obvious to herself and others. I have said, that, in any case, where Mr. C. had caused pain, he was anxious to render back. He had said or done something which he perceived had grieved me: which, however, was so inconsiderable an act, that I have not the least remaining recollection of what it was. On walking out the same day with his son, then a child, he stopped
to buy an article which he conceived I should like. After he had made the purchase, his son said to him, “What do you buy it for, papa 7” He replied, “My dear, I grieved your mamma to-day, and I want to give this to her in token of my concern and affection.” Mr. Cecil spent almost the whole of his time in his study, and was tenacious of being interrupted in his pursuits: yet there was not one in his family, even the youngest, but had a free (if timely) access to him: on presenting any little wants or misfortunes before him, he would regard them with attention; and, with the most generous kindness, rénder little offices of reparation, or accommodation. This temper of mind pervaded all his domestic conduct. I can scarcely open a book, if given by him, but it exhibits an instance, either of his tenderness, his delicate sentiment, or pious admonition. ... The reader will better conceive than I can describe, with what various emotions of heart I Now read one of these—which was written on a blank leaf in his. “Visit to the House of Mourning,” previous to his giving it to me:—“The author presents a token of his affection to one, who, in the 49th page, has (without a name) a pre-eminence of place—Earnestly praying, that whenever he Must quit her hand, he may yet watch her solitary steps; and sometimes silently administer to the safety and comfort of the beloved pilgrim, by a hint from this little MonitoR.” Very many similar and endearing instances of his kindness might be inserted, were it not that they would lead me to speak too much of myself: they remain, therefore, more properly the subject of my own solitary recollection—the tender remembrancers of a long affection—and to heighten the standard by which I estimate my sad bereavement. If I further refer to Mr. C. as a husband. it shall be by showing his picture, drawn by himself, in a series of letters, wherein appears the familiar and affectionate, no less than the melancholic and reflective turn of Mr. C's mind—though, in so doing, I must sacrifice that delicacy, which, as being the subject of his correspondence, would lead me to withdraw.” : . If I speak of the dear subject of this Memoir as a parent, it shall be in his own words, dictated by him in his last hours, and addressed to his son in the East: which contain, in a few lines, the essence of the Gospel; and discover a parental solicitude, that his son might become a partaker in the great salvation:— - - . - “June, 1810. “MY DEAR SoN : “I have received your letters, and they would have been duly answered; but for the last two years, a severe illness, has so occupied both your mother and me that we have had no opportunity. I am only able now, in a dying state, to send my blessing, and prayers for your welfare. I wish to say that Christ is your all, in time and eternity. I have been in a most affecting state by a paralytic stroke—but Christ is all that can profit you or me— a whole volume could not contain more, or so much. Oh, pray, day and night, for an interest in Him!— and this is all I can say—it being more than having the Indies.” - - Mr. Cecil’s solicitude for the welfare of his children, in all their various interests, was entire, anxious, and unabating. He excited them, by precept and by example; and encouraged the smallest indications, of virtue or piety, which he observed in them—holding up religion to their view, not only as excellent in itself, but as highly ornamental.
No parent could be more benevolent toward his family, according to his power. He endeavoured to supply what might be wanting in accomplishment, as it is generally understood, by storing their 'minds with a rich fund of moral reflections: and, in this view, they have received a high education; for as he used to remark, “Mere accomplishment is but a temporary possession; while one maxim of moral wisdom, RECEIVED, and BRought INTo PRACTICE, goes forth and travels with us through eternity.” He frequently said he would have spent largely on the education of each of his children had he been able. He gave his sons this advantage: and he did this on principle, knowing that it was all that he could give them; and, with This, he knew they might make their way through life respectably.
He ever laboured to impress on all his children the advantage of industry and effort; of which he was himself their example. He would say—“Do someTHING—have a PROFESSION.—be EMINENT in it— MAKE YOURSELVES INDEPENDENT.” Hints of this kind, were interspersed among a variety of other useful and invaluable instruction to his children; and, in proportion to their high privilege, is their irreparable loss, that such a parent was removed before they could be launched on the dangerous ocean of the world:—the thought of which, were he still a subject susceptible of pain, would hold a place among the tenderest of his sorrows. For although he rejoi. ced in those promises on which his faith built, as appropriate to a necessarily dependent family, yet he could Not rejoice in their becoming dependent. He was neither indifferent to their welfare, nor improvident respecting their future wants—but, he lacked opportunity.
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