The undisguised freedom and openness of his correspondence enabled us, though at a distance, to watch over him, and to form a judgment of the state of his mind. That part of classical education which consists in studying the ancient poets of Greece and Rome, and comparing their writings with those of our modern poets, it is certain, can but little conduce either to a spirit of piety, or to purity of mind. Into this dangerous yet fascinating field he was necessarily led by his school exercises. Perceiving, as I feared, a growing attachment to poetry, I cautioned him against the dangers arising from this sort of reading; when, in reply, he wrote to me thus: "I beg of you not to think that I waste my time in reading the 'paltry poets.' I have almost entirely laid them on the shelf, and applied myself to reading of a very different nature. I felt the obnoxious tendency of Lyttleton's lines, Walsh's Elegies, and the Pastorals of some other men. They were corrupting my taste, and filling my mind with light ideas. I am glad that I became sensible of it before it was too late. I think the harm done by many verse-writers is very considerable. As poets address themselves principally to the imagination and passions, their verses operate as a charm on the human mind, and may be productive of great good, or great evil; but when they flatter the vices, and inflame the evil propensities, of mankind, by presenting impure and irreligious sentiments in the attire of beautiful and elegant language, and flowing melody, the harm done is incalculable; and that harm is increased in proportion to the vigour of the writer's talents, and the celebrity of his character. I cannot but be sensible of the justness of your remarks, and feel the importance of the present time."

During the year 1838 his piety appears to have undergone some declension, which showed itself to his religious friends in a careless attendance at his class-meeting; though his name was never erased from the class-book; nor did he ever, when able to go, neglect the Sabbath-services of the chapel. A change of residence, which he was under the necessity of making, it is believed, contributed its share to this; but towards the latter end of the year his health partially failed, and his school-occupations had greatly increased upon him.

In a letter from Miss Pilcher, since his death, written at her father's request, she says, "In January, 1835, he began to meet with my father. He was then in possession of the pearl of great price, having found it whilst at home. He proved the reality of his profession by a consistent conduct, and an earnest desire to lead others to seek the Lord. I well remember his bringing his brother to my father, requesting permission for him to meet in class; also Joseph K. Tucker," (this is the Joseph K. Tucker who, after having studied at the Institution, is now labouring in a Circuit,) "with whose friends he was then living. His diligent attendance at the sacramental table was worthy of imitation; and his observance of the Sabbath was another trait in his character. Thus he pursued the even tenor of his way, walking in the

fear of the Lord, and in the comforts of the Holy Spirit. When he returned from home, January, 1838, he seemed in a very good state of mind. I remember my dear father observing, as he had often said before, on coming from his class-meeting, 'I believe the Lord has a work for that young man to do: if he is faithful, it is my opinion he will be a Preacher.' He after this became careless, seldom attending his class. I think this might be owing, in some degree, to the loss of that Christian society to which he had been accustomed. When he last came back from home, there was an evident change: he was then in a good state of mind."

He returned to his studies in February, 1839, after his first serious attack, by the permission of his most affectionate and attentive medical adviser, Dr. Bowie; but in a comparatively enfeebled state. The interruption now occasioned by fits of illness, and the veil drawn over his prospects by the general state of his health, were at times a source of keen feeling to his active mind. This, in one of his letters, he painfully describes: "My vivacity is gone, and a constant lassitude hangs over me. More than once, since my return, have I wept at the recollection, How different I was fifteen months ago! How much of my then alacrity has deserted me! I do indeed seem but clay endued with the principle of life. Before, my mind was occupied, my subjects for school well prepared, my memory stored with all the light the long notes of commentators threw on the passage, and myself ready to ask or answer any question. At the subsequent examination I was first for every exercise; but now I seem like one torpid, and without animation. Though I read more, I say nothing; but sit the morning through in a seeming state of apathy." His complaint rendered it prudent not to use his voice. Still he was unwilling to leave his studies. Every injunction was laid upon him to proportion his reading to his strength. It was also judged that moderate employment, for a mind like his, might be more conducive to his bodily health, than a total separation from literary pursuits; and no step was taken without the direction of his medical advisers. And yet the letter containing the above statements had the plan of a daily course of reading, which only one habituated to study would have thought of encountering.

Another letter soon followed, dated April 9th, to this effect: "Will you be so kind as to send my sister Sarah? my complaint has again returned. But, though it prevents my coming home, yet it is so slight that you need not alarm yourself. I feel tranquil in my mind: but what, O what, can Heaven propose for me? Not recovered from a former illness, weak in body, and scarcely able to endure the fatigue of daily life, I am again stricken. I was beginning to regain lost time. I was looking forward anxiously to September," (when he was to leave school,) "and reading with the reflection of how much depended on then; and here am I, laid lower than ever, inasmuch as I have less

strength to bear the blow. But I know thy ways, O God, are ever right! Thou canst not err, and never wouldst lightly afflict the work of thine own hand. Pray for me, my dear mother, that I may be preserved from a spirit of discontent and repining.

His sister was immediately sent, with directions to bring him home as soon as he could travel; but returning health brought with it a desire to remain at his studies. So little ultimate danger was then apprehended, that he had leave to attend school again: and the near approach of the Midsummer holidays reconciled us to his staying till that time. I have found among his papers a copy of original Latin verses, bearing date, May, 1839; and which must have been composed when his sister was with him. They are descriptive of the opening of spring, and the delight occasioned everywhere by the gay season of the year; but conclude with the following affecting lines in reference to his own feelings and prospects, part of which seem almost prophetic

Sed mihi cur animus vestitur nube doloris ?
Cur fluit in vultus lacryma rara meos ?
Omnia lætantur circum, festumque celebrant;
Et sola in tristi mens mea corde dolet.
Quid mihi proficiunt soles, blandique tepores?
Quid mihi, terra virens frondibus alma novis ?
Quid facies pallet, solitis nec motibus ardent
Pectora, nec dulcis me vigor intus agit?
Corpora fugerunt genialis dona salutis,
Fessaque languescunt, hei mihi! membra lue.
Et comitum dulces cœtus, linquendaque tellus
Optima quà vitæ pars fuit acta mihi.
Sic mandata jubent: et si non rumpere possim
Jussa, juventutis rector amate, vale !
Tu mihi consilium labenti sæpe dedisti,
Tu direxisti per freta tuta ratem.

Spiritus et noster gelidis prius erret in umbris,
Et corpus tumulo pondus inane cubet,

Quàm subeant animos ingrata oblivia vestri,
Et pietas nostrum deserat ista sinum.
Maie Calenda, 1839.

J. E. B.

He spent the Midsummer holidays of 1839 with his mother, partly in Bath, and partly in Clifton. They proved to be a season of special grace to him, and the Lord deepened his work in his soul. He then returned to Canterbury, to finish his term at school, and undergo those examinations to which, for years, he had looked forward with the deepest interest. His views and feelings were fully under the guidance of religion; and he thus wrote to us: "I am not well. The same thoughts that have been on your mind, have been on mine too. I do not feel anxious. I am working as well as I can; and, ever since my return, have been led to seek, by diligent prayer and selfexamination, a deeper work of grace on my heart. I believe I have experienced it; that my will is bent to Heaven's; that my trust is in God; that my desire is for his pleasure to be fulfilled in me. This I say not under the least excitement from illness: it has not disturbed a single nerve. I say it coolly; for such were my feelings before I had a return of my complaint. The speeches are fixed for Thursday, September 19th; so that I conclude the examination will commence about the 8th." (The half-yearly school examination, and the last of the kind he would attend.) "I expected more time; but I shall do, if it please God to give me my usual attention. I look to the Strong for strength. I can this moment rejoice in the Lord. I always felt, and find still no reason to alter my opinion, that if I gave my heart to Him, he had a work for me to do: I mean, a work of more importance than that of others; for all have a charge to keep, and a duty to perform." This was the state of mind in which he went through his examinations, and in which he met the attack of hemorrhage which was appointed of God to terminate his literary career.

The University had long been the object he had in view: his name was actually entered at St. John's College, Cambridge. Emoluments from his school, to a considerable amount, were placed at his disposal, to aid in his College expenses; but he sank under his complaint when just on the point of realizing his long, most-ardently cherished wishes. These emoluments were to await the issue of his affliction up to October, 1840. His mother repaired to him immediately; and, as soon as he could travel, brought him home to Bath. It was hoped that perfect quiet, and careful nursing, might, under Providence, be the means of his recovery; but in December he had a relapse; from which, however, he partially recovered, till March 17th, 1840, when the hemorrhage returned with uncontrollable violence, accompanied, for the first time, by a highly-accelerated pulse. On its ceasing, ulceration of the lungs appeared. Reduced to the weakness of infancy, he rapidly sunk, and on May 28th, 1840, expired.

Up to his last illness, his medical attendants, of whom he saw several, at Canterbury, Rochester, and Bath, all expressed it as their opinion, that he would outgrow his complaint. His deep-formed, finelyrounded chest, looked anything but that of a subject liable to organic

disease of the lungs. The hemorrhage seemed an effort of nature to relieve itself; for after each attack, but the last, the pulse fell immediately to its natural state; and there was every appearance of returning health. After repeated examinations, at different times, and by different persons, his lungs were pronounced to be sound. We, as parents, were ready to hope the best; and were led to seek his life, whilst any ray of hope remained, with fastings, prayers, and tears. In fact, we felt it hard to relinquish the hope we had entertained from his birth, and which there had been so much in his own views and feelings to encourage, of seeing him in the work of the ministry.

He reached Bath October 24th, 1839, in a happy frame of mind. Both himself and parents felt grateful to the God of their mercies that he had again been permitted to see his home, where he would have an opportunity of awaiting, under his father's roof, the issue of his affliction. The following prayer, which must have been written whilst he was propped up in bed, and, as its tenor indicates, before renewing his covenant with God at the commencement of the year 1810, was found amongst his private memoranda in his pocket-book:

"Almighty Lord God, merciful Father, thou hast in thy lovingkindness seen good to prolong my life to the close of another year: thou hast brought me through many dangers; thou hast vouchsafed to me many mercies of no ordinary kind. I beseech thee, O Lord, grant me the assistance of thy Holy Spirit, which thou hast promised through the blood of thy well-beloved Son; and although I am poor and weak, and cannot of myself perform one good action, condescend to pity me, and grant me strength from thyself. Enable me to fulfil the good desires with which thou hast inspired my sinful heart. May none, O my Redeemer, fall to the ground! May my spared life be more fully consecrated to thy service! May thy fear be ever before my eyes! thy love ever dwell in my soul! May thy blessing rest on all I undertake; prompting me to what is right, restraining me from what is wrong! May thy light shine upon my understanding, and lead it in the paths of truth! Save me, O God, from pride, idleness, love of the world, and the dominion of any unhallowed passion! Keep back thy servant from presumptuous sins; give me to understand my errors; cleanse thou me from secret faults; grant me resignation to thy will; peace of mind; to live for death and eternity; to follow in all things the example of my Master; to order my conduct aright in the eyes of all. And now that I, a sinful worm, a creature of the dust, am about, through the blood of thy Son, to renew my covenant with thee, O most righteous Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, grant me an assurance of my acceptance. I come not in mine own worthiness: I would in no wise cloak my sins before thee; but I make supplication to thee through the blood of Christ, which has been shed to redeem me: thou hast through him promised forgiveness of sins, purity of heart, and the Holy Spirit to help my infirmities, and impart comfort; and since his