of my head, and the Dublin business was, as indeed it is still, eating into my heart. May Heaven preserve your feeling soul from such trials. Yours most affectionately, J. BLANCO WHITE. From Professor Norton. My dear Friend, Cambridge, June 15th, 1838. A Letter which I received yesterday from Miss Park makes me fear that this may never reach you. I write it with deep feeling, as a solemn and affectionate farewell to one whose life has been devoted to a constant struggle in the cause of truth and goodness, and whose spirit is now passing to a higher sphere to receive its exceeding reward. The benefit of your labours and sufferings will not be lost upon earth. Your example and your writings will continually bear more and more fruit. I will not write many words. Farewell! but not for ever. I now claim your friendship when we shall meet, for the first time, hereafter. It will not be many years hence, perhaps not many months. May the blessing of God be with you here and through eternity. Once again, Farewell! Your friend, ANDREWS NORTON. To Professor Norton. Liverpool, July 17th, 1838. My dear and respected Friend, Yours of the 15th June has reached me this morning. Its contents have affected me deeply, and I thank God that I have enjoyed, what to me is always one of the most sublime and convincing proofs of God and Immortality, the effusions of sincere friendship from a person like yourself. I prepare this answer without delay, lest the tormenting disease should take a sudden turn and carry me off, without my having made a full acknowledgment of your kindness. I linger in a most distressing state, deprived of the use of my lower limbs, and incapable of getting out of my chair by my own efforts. Easily exhausted by talking, and much more by thinking, I am, with very few exceptions, quite alone, and unable to follow up any reading which requires attention. My physicians have long declared to me their opinion that I cannot recover-a declaration which filled me with joy, and the accomplishment of which, like hope delayed, now makes my heart wither. I feel no enthusiastic raptures, nor does my Imagination, trained, as it is, not to take the lead, venture to suggest any of her material pictures. But I have the most calm assurance within me, that the God whom at all times I have loved, and whose will I have always most sincerely wished to obey, will provide for me that happiness for which I may be best fitted. Free from all theological fears, no terrors surround me while waiting for the long-desired dismissal from this life. I heartily thank God, who has so disposed the events of my mental course that I do not find in myself even a trace of the Superstition in which I was most anxiously educated. This indeed more than repays all my sufferings. May God's blessing be upon you and Mrs. Norton, and may your efforts in the pursuit of truth be successful. My acquaintance with the tone and character of your mind makes me sure that, wherever that mind may be in communication with my own, the tie of friendship will unite them. Farewell, my dear friend. With gratitude and esteem, I am yours, July 11th. My sixty-third Birth-day. I would it were my Birth-day into another state of existence ! My dear Sir, From Dr. Channing. Boston, July 11th, 1838. In a letter from Miss Dix, I have just received very unfavourable accounts of your health; more so than you have yourself given. I cannot but hope that you will be strengthened again, for I feel that you must have much to say which you have not yet communicated to the world, and in usefulness you would find much to enjoy. But a higher will disposes of us. In this we will rejoice. Were this world our only sphere of action, we might be depressed at the thought of our unfinished plans, and of going,-before half of our work was done. But the very power which grasps at so much more than we can accomplish, is prophetic of a higher life. You and I have been conscious of a spiritual activity, which physical debility has prevented our bringing out. Is this to perish? Is the thirst for higher truth and holiness an illusion? The Fountain from which our spiritual life has flowed is inexhaustible. Will our aspirations after larger communications fail? I have been a little troubled on account of a letter I sent you, after reading yours to Mr. Ripley. I had scarcely sent it when I felt that it was very crude, and I could not but fear that you might set down the free suggestions of a letter as deliberate conclusions. I now regret sending it,-from the apprehension that it may have stirred you up to efforts of thought injurious in your debilitated state. I beg you not to think of answering it, nor to think of it farther. I have been taken almost wholly from labour for four months, but am slowly rising. Sometimes I dream of a visit to England, and the thought of seeing you comes to me among the chief pleasures I should meet abroad; but I shall probably prove a dreamer. I do not mean to trouble you with a long letter. I write to express my sympathy, and to assure you of the sincere respect with which I remain, Your friend, W. E. CHANNING. July 14th. A letter from Mr., saying little that gives me the idea of despatch of business. He is evidently afraid of frightening me with the view of testaments and wills. This seems to be an universal silliness. July 27th. Received a most kind letter from Lord Holland, and, under a frank of Lord Melbourne, a Note from one of his Secretaries, desiring me to apply to the Treasury to receive £300 from the Queen's Royal Bounty. This is truly royal! Aug. 1st. Wrote to Mrs. Whately declining the £100, this year. Nothing in the whole course of my life, has perplexed me more than this lingering in the face of Death. I became totally crippled in my legs, about six weeks ago, and have been, during that time, unable to rise from my arm-chair. Mr. Thom has been all this time out of Liverpool, and I have been left to myself in this wretched state. For many weeks I have lost the power of fixing my attention. The most overwhelming somnolency seizes me. Under the influence of these circumstances, together with the diminished hope of dissolution, which formerly cheered me, I have lost all energy. One thing, however, consoles me: my still being in Life seems to be likely to be beneficial to my Son. He is extremely attached to me, and my last advice will ever be impressed upon his Soul. If I do not live many months, I shall leave him a handsome sum, out of the £300 received from the Queen. Friday, Aug. 3rd. This miserable state of existence lowers my spirits daily. To pass the night in moaning and drinking laudanum as the only means of getting a little repose; to rise up, and be wheeled to the spot where I must remain fixed till the hour of going to bed, unable to pursue any mental object, and hardly awake enough for writing a Letter-thus to have lived month after month, and yet to see no end at hand, is extremely trying and distressing. Of its being arranged in Wisdom I have no doubt; but |