Sir,

LETTER V.

To Dr Watts.

The opinion I have of your piety and judgment, is the reason of my giving you the trouble of looking over these papers*, in order to publish them; which I desire you to do as soon as you can conveniently only you have full liberty to suppress what you judge proper.

I think there can be no vanity in this design; for I am sensible such thoughts as these will not be to the taste of the modish part of the world; and before they appear, I shall be entirely disinterested in the censure or applause of mortals.

The reflections were occasionally written, and only for my own improvement; but I am not without hopes that they may have the same effect on some pious minds, as the reading of the experience of others has had on my own soul. The experimental part of religion has generally a greater influence than its theory; and if, when I am sleeping in the dust, these soliloquies should kindle a flame of divine love in the heart of the lowest and most despised Christian, be the glory given to the great Spring of all grace and benignity!

I have now done with mortal things, and all to come is vast eternity!-Eternity! how transporting is the sound! As long as God exists, my being and happiness are secure. These unbounded desires, which the wide creation cannot limit, shall be satisfied for ever. I shall drink at the fountain-head of pleasure, and be refreshed with the emanations of Original Life and Joy. I shall

Devout Exercises of the Heart,

hear the voice of uncreated Harmony, speaking peace and ineffable consolation to my

soul.

I expect eternal life, not as a reward of merit, but a pure act of bounty. Detesting myself in every view I can take, I fly to the righteousness and atonement of my great Redeemer for pardon and salvation; this is my only consolation and hope. "Enter not into judgment, O Lord, with thy servant; for, in thy sight, shall no man living be justified."

Through the blood of the Lamb, I hope for an entire victory over the last enemy: and that before this letter comes to you, I shall have reached the celestial heights; and that, while you are reading these lines, I shall be adoring before the throne of God, where faith shall be turned into vision, and these languishing desires satisfied with the full fruition of immortal love.

CHAPTER IV.

LETTERS Of dr. rundlE, BISHOP of derry.

LETTER I.

To Mrs. Sandys.

February 15, 1737.

Oh, Madam! the chancellor, the best man that ever breathed, the best judge, the best father, the best friend, is dead*!-What, in his providence, does the Almighty design to do, in merited severity, to punish this nation, by removing from it the person, who, by his wisdom and goodness united, was able and desirous to save it, to make it honest and happy! I dread to consider and foresee !-What has the public lost! what has his dear, deserving family! what have I! what have I not lost!

He died yesterday morning. His illness was an inflammation on his lungs. He continued only from Thursday, till five in the morning on Monday. The physicians say, to comfort us, and to excuse themselves, or rather their ignorance, that he was worn out in the service of his country, and that he could not have lasted any time, had not this cold carried him off. He was but fifty one; he might have blessed, and done good to

* Charles Talbot, lord high chancellor of England, died Feb. 14, 1737, universally lamented. He was allowed by all parties, to have possessed great talents and unblemished integrity. Thomson published a poem to his memory; which is replete with gratitude, and contains an elegant delineation of a most amiable and exalted character.

his country, many years longer. But GOD ALMIGHTY knows what is best for him, and properest for us. May HE, in his anger, remember mercy!

All parties unite to call the chancellor the best and the greatest man that ever lived! The people, from the court to the city, are under the deepest astonishment, and show in their countenance that the nation is under some dreadful calamity. Great as he was allowed to be in his public character, you know he was more amiable, more delightful, in his domestic behaviour. Was there ever any man so reasonably beloved as himself, by all, from the highest to the lowest, in his family? Did his children ever enjoy more ease, more cheerfulness, more sprightly innocence, and entertaining, instructive unbendings, than in his company and conversation?

Oh, madam! what a series of disappointments is life! I came over to enjoy the company of the best friend that ever lived: I saw him; I had daily new reasons to love and admire him; I received daily new obligations; and I have lost him! I hoped, by enjoying his wisdom and virtue for a few months, to return with spirit, and support absence from him by the reflection of my having been with him, and that I might be with him again. Farewell all hope that my splendid banishment from my native country shall ever have an end! I must now withdraw; and sigh out my few remaining years in solitude, amidst strange company, since every place that I am hereafter to inhabit, will be empty of all, with whom I have contracted the sacred ties of friendship!My poor, dear Billy! what does he suffer! You have seen him in agonies of fear, lest he should lose what he loves. He has now lost what he loves above all things upon earth united; and what deserved his unexampled affection. I shall rejoice that I was in England when

this fatal accident happened, if I can be of any comfort, any use, to that ever beloved youth!

In the last six years, how many friends have you and I lost in one family! and such friends, as the world can scarcely parallel! the bishop of Durham, doctor Sayer, Mrs Sayer, and her brother, and his son!-They are happy let us imitate them, and we shall be so too. We shall meet them again, no more to be separated; we shall enjoy their friendship again, no more to be clouded with tears or we shall be admitted to a degree of happiness, (how inconceivable must that degree of happiness be!) to which even their company can be no addition.

You, madam, will share our affliction severely but the letter, which brings you word that you have lost one friend who loved you, will remind you that there are others who do so too, whilst there is a Talbot left in this nation, or I am alive to subscribe myself

When I wrote to you last I was under such amazement, and agony, that I do not know what I might say to you; but you will excuse the overflowings of my heart, in its deepest sorrow. In no moment of my life, shall I be less sensible of our loss than at present: but though it is impossible to be unmoved at the reflection, that we have been deprived of the noblest happiness which Providence had bestowed on us; yet frequent meditation on the unequalled virtues of our friend, will hange grief into veneration, and raise and consecrate the pious melancholy into a solemn enjoy◄ ment, to be preferred to pleasure.