for breath, than before: and I seem to rejoice in the hope of entering further protests against them.-But I must stop my pen, or I shall hurt myself. You will excuse the overflowings of my heart at this time: it never was more full of love for you.......My love and blessing to my daughter. God bless and prosper you, in the best sense!-Your truly affectionate father, THOMAS SCOTT."

An addition to the letter by another hand, made the next morning, observes, "He was yesterday (the first time he went down stairs,) enabled to go to chapel, and that without any injury. He is now at work, as usual, in the study!"

On this very striking and affecting letter I shall venture to offer a few remarks.

1. It can hardly be necessary to call the reader's attention to the deep and vivid impressions, made on the writer's mind, of "the reality and importance of eternal things;" of "the vanity of all worldly possessions, distinctions, connexions, and enjoyments;" of "the happiness of the poorest true Christian;" of the extreme misery of "the crowds of noble and affluent sinners, following the steps of the rich man in the gospel;" of the "little consequence of the smoothness or ruggedness of the path, provided we come to heaven at last;" of the welcome with which we should receive "the sharpest sufferings, we can go through here, if the health of our souls may be forwarded, and, at length, perfected by means of them."

2. The views which he takes of the work of the ministry, and of "the folly of shrinking from that hardship or suffering, which the frown or scorn of men can inflict on us for faithfulness;" the prayer, "O may he preserve you (as a minister, especially,) from the snares, and smiles, and frowns of the world, from the fascinations and delusions, from the lukewarmness, and evangelical formality, and attachment to secular interests, which are sanctioned too much in the church!" cannot fail to strike every mind.-The light, also, in which, apparently on a dying bed, he now saw the specialities, if I may so call them, of his doctrine and ministry, more particularly as opposed to a loose and worldly profession of the gospel, and the abuse of evangelical truths, will not pass unnoticed.

3. But particularly we have here presented, under these interesting circumstances, and with immediate reference to his own case, a distinct, though concise, view of some of his sentiments, which have been often misapprehended and mis

represented. "I could confusedly recollect very many things to be humbled for, and ashamed of: but nothing that impeached the sincerity of my professed faith in Christ and love to him. My hope was that of a sinner, throughout saved by grace: yet I was satisfied, that the aim of my heart, and the tenor of my conduct, since I professed the gospel, EVIDENCED that I had built on the SOLE foundation by a LIVING faith."Is there any thing in this which is justly chargeable with self-righteousness, or which even approaches to that error? The utmost that it amounts to is that rejoicing in the testimony of his conscience, that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God, he had had his conversation in the world," which the same apostle does not scruple to express, who teaches us to "rejoice in Christ Jesus" only, and exclaims, "God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ."-Christ is ""THE SOLE FOUNDATION:" "by faith" alone we "build" upon him: but the fruits of faith are to be adduced, both now, and at the day of judgment, as "evidence" that our professed faith is "living," and not dead. This is the whole doctrine of EVIDENCES: yet many excellent persons cannot distinguish between adducing the fruits of faith as a foundation on which to rest for acceptance with God, and adducing them merely as a proof that we are builded upon Christ alone by a living faith: and thus they unintentionally give countenance to those who decry all appeal to evidences, because, it is to be feared, they have no satisfactory evidences to appeal to, in support of their own pretensions to the Christian state and character.

We ought also, under the present head, to remark the perfect sobriety and soundness of the writer's method of proceeding, as to the question of his own state and pros pects, even in the condition of extreme exhaustion and suffering which he describes. He is able "to give to every one that asketh of him a reason," which cannot be contravened, "of the hope that is in him." Is there, it may be confidently demanded, any thing fanatical, fanciful, or in any way contrary to "a sound mind," in what we are reviewing of the writer's proceedings upon a supposed dying bed?

4. But, lastly, it may perhaps be little satisfactory to some persons, that there was no more of joy and "sensible comfort," in the writer's "views and experiences, when he had serious apprehensions of dying:" and I the rather advert to this subject, because the case was pretty much the

same, as he rather seems to anticipate that it might be, when death actually approached. But let us observe what he says "about the state of his mind" in this respect.

"For many hours of two successive nights, it was all but absolute suffocation, and the sense and dread of that was continually present to my mind: yet, bless the Lord, I was not left either to murmur or despond. I had very serious apprehensions of immediate death..... I had not any sensible comfort. Yet I thought of dying without emotion.

... I felt the grand concern to be safe; and was willing to leave all below, to have done with suffering, sin, and temptation. . . . . . I tried to commit all I loved, and all I had labored to effect, into the Lord's hands: and I thought of recovering, as a sailor, just about to enter harbor, would of being ordered out to sea again. Yet, I was willing if the Lord saw good." But he adds, "I did not feel much of what the Apostle mentions of desiring to be with Christ; and I was convinced for that very reason, that my Christianity was of a small growth, though I trusted it was genuine:"a sentence which produces an impression like that felt by the late distinguished Dean of Carlisle, when, comparing the exalted Christian state of his dying brother with the humility of his language, he exclaims, "So this is the man, who, when he is asked directly about his prospects in eternity, can give no other answer than, I can't say much!”— Surely in such patience, such submission, such trust, even in the absence of "sensible comfort;" in such willingness, as the Lord should see good, either to "enter the harbor" of death, or to be "ordered out to sea again," on the stormy voyage of life:-surely there is in all this much of the highest attainments of Christianity. "I can't say much," replied the dying Milner to the questions which were put to him: "I rely on the promises for strength in the time of need....... There was a time when I should have been very unhappy to have had so little of sensible comfort; but I have seen reason to believe that one of the most acceptable exercises of true Christian faith consists in patiently waiting God's time, and in relying confidently on the written word. For many years, I have been endeavoring to live from day to day as a pensioner on God's bounty. I learn to trust him, and he sends the manna without fail."

From the period of the illness here described, my father gave up his Sunday morning lecture at Lothbury.

CHAPTER XIII.

FROM HIS ACCEPTING THE LIVING AT ASTON SANDFORD; TO THE FINAL DISPOSAL OF HIS COMMENTARY.

"I SHALL now," my father proceeds, "draw this account to a conclusion, as most of the subsequent events of my life are nearly as well known to my family as to myself.

"It would be of little use or interest to detail my trials and difficulties at the Lock. At length, however, the time arrived, when I was satisfied in my conscience that it was my duty to recede. I always questioned whether I acted properly in coming thither, which often added to my depression amidst my other distresses: but I never thought, till this time, that I was allowed to quit my post. Indeed I had no opening, and used very often most seriously and dolefully to think, that, if compelled to leave it, I could not form the idea of any station, that I was likely to attain, for which I was at all suited, and in which I could conscientiously engage. Of a living I had no hope: the post of a curate could, in few situations, be compatible with my views and my unpopularity: a chapel would not clear expences: and into an irregular engagement I was not disposed to

enter.

"But the affairs at the Lock seemed at last to draw to a crisia.—When the Rev. Martin Madan, who had alone borne the title of chaplain, died, Mr. De Coetlogon and myself were appointed chaplains, instead of evening and morning preachers; but without any other alteration than that of the name. But various things concurred in convincing me, that I ought not to continue in this joint-chaplainship with one, whom I could not approve: and at length I avowed my determination to that purport. This produced various effects and plans: and it was for some time doubtful, whether my removal, or my appointment as sole chaplain, would be the consequence. In this unsettled state of affairs, the living of Aston Sandford, became vacant by the death of the rector, Mr. Brodbelt; and, as it was in the gift of John Barber, Esq. by virtue of his marriage with Miss Gines, who had been under my care at Olney, I applied for it. I never before had asked preferment of any one, and never in my life had any offered to me: but on this occasion I stated my circumstances and views to Mrs. Barber, and received an answer

peculiarly gratifying to me. After some deliberation, I considered the business as settled: but a demur subsequently arose, under the idea that Mrs. B.'s mother had made a will, and bequeathed Aston to some other person. No will had before been noticed, but one was now found, which was not legally authenticated, but yet clearly shewed that she desired the living to be given to the Rev. Richard Johnson, who had been for many years chaplain to the colony at New South Wales, and who had just returned to England, unprovided for. On this I at once renounced all my pretensions, in his favor; though not, I own, without feelings of regret. For two months I seldom thought about it, except when distressed with some vexation. But one morning Mr. Johnson called on me, and, when I congratulated him on his presentation to Aston, he, to my surprise, replied, that, as he had some ground of claim on government for a provision, he had been advised not to accept the living, and had come to say, that he wished me to have it.

"The rest was soon settled in due order, and I was instituted at Buckden, July 22, 1801. I had been led to think, that the income was little more than 100l. a year, without a house; and that it could not easily be improved. But, on taking possession, I found that my predecessor had advanced the rent to 1801. free of all parish taxes; and that the tenant was willing to confirm this agreement to me. This business, therefore, was already arranged to my hands, though Mr. Brodbelt had not lived to received any benefit from the arrangement himself.* But there was no habitable parsonage: and the circumstances were such, that I could not avoid, either building, or leave my family exposed to serious difficulties about dilapidations, when I should be removed. This left me, for sometime after institution, in hesitation whether I should retain the living or not.

"In the mean time it was determined at the Lock, that there should be only one chaplain; and, to preserve the appearance of impartiality, both chaplains were discharged, but with the allowance to become candidates for the vacant office. Such an arrangement was by no means pleasing to me; and I determined to accede to the dismission, and go to my living. But this was not what had been purposed by

* When the sum expended by my father in the erection of a parson. age-house at Aston is taken into the account, it will be found that the living could never be reckoned worth a clear hundred pounds a year to him.