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laid upon us, we could not delegate to another

we found not sufficient leisure from our daily duties, to give closer attention than we have done, to the mass of matter which required selecting and arranging, before it could, with propriety, be sent to press.

Add to this painful, yet attractive, as the employment has been our progress was often arrested, and we lingered over recitals which were associated with our tenderest recollections; and full often did we stay to weep, that one so lovely should have a life so brief; but

" It matters little at what hour of the day

The righteous fall asleep - Death cannot come
To bim untimely, who is fit to die.”

The writer of the following Memoir is aware that he is open to the charge of partiality for the object of his affection — this he will not attempt to refute; but the reader may be assured that he has only narrated Facts as they have arisen, without any deviation from the simple truth; he therefore craves a large share of forbearance for the language in which he has conveyed those facts to the reader.

“ Forgive a father's partial praise,

And with him drop a tender tear,
And soothe him with some plaintive lays,

For, Oh! his child was passing dear!”

The bereaved parents would here gratefully acknowledge the many kind messages of sympathy, as well as letters of condolence in their loss, from a wide circle of their friends and acquaintance. One letter, from a dear and valued friend, since gathered to his rest, is here preserved; also a few stanzas of poetry3 from another sympathizing friend.

The Diary, or commonplace-book, of our beloved boy, being the little history of his thoughts and deeds, is contained in several manuscript books, of many closely written pages, from which, and a few other papers, the selections, in the volume here presented to the reader, have been made. Wherever he has

2 Appendix (A.)

3

Appendix (B).

extracted a sentiment from another author, the passage is marked as a quotation, and is retained with a view of shewing the particular feeling of his own mind at the time.

It appears that he commenced what may be called his Diary at a very early age, and that he adopted the plan at the suggestion of his father, who presented him with a book to begin with, in which he had previously written those instructions which stand at the head of this Preface.

It has been said by an enlightened minister of the Church of England, that, “next to the Scriptures, the history of a man's own life". rather, the history of his mind — "is, to himself, the most interesting history in the world.” He might have added, and the most instructive too. — “Know thyself;" . enough for man to know.”

Should these remains meet the eye of any reader, who, not having known this gentle boy, may be induced to suspect him of vanity, for having sometimes expressed his sentiments in others than his mother-tongue, let such consider, that he was ardently partial to the languages; and whilst prosecuting that branch of his studies, he may surely be excused if he sometimes clothed his passing reflections in characters which partook, at the time, of so large a share of his application. More particularly is he freed from such an imputation, since he wrote, as he remarks, not for others, but for himself.

4 Rd, Cecil.

These records of his own experience, and comments suggested in the course of his readings, he kept remarkably private, under his own special care; and as no attempts were made by his parents to disturb the privacy of his pursuits, it was not known or suspected, until after his decease, with what perseverance, or to what length, he had carried them out.

Should any one object to the extent of the following extracts, or be inclined to think it would have been more prudent had these puerilities been suffered to remain in their original obscurity, the Editor is free to acknowledge the work has far exceeded the size at first contemplated; but the difficulty of making a selection where all appeared so precious, can only be appreciated by those who know, by painful experience, what it is to estimate the labours and literary remains of a dearly beloved and only child, from the pleasing pursuit of which, by the dispensation of a mysterious Providence, he had thus early been called away. That these labours are not permitted to be hid from view, must not be charged to their author; no share of the blame for such an exposure is to be attributed to him. Whether laid upon the shelf, or passed round the friendly circle, these pages are to him, as though they had never been.

o Where such sentences occur, a translation is given by a literary friend.

“ * * * * a few weeping mourners here,

Perchance may count these frail memorials dear;
But vain and valueless they are to him
Who tunes his harp amidst the seraphim.”

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