consider the benevolent, kind love of our dear Castle of Defence (God) to us! I am lost in admiration at so worthy a greatness. O Lord, who is like unto thee? Thy mercies are surprising, thy clemency lasting and constant, and thy extensive bounty always liberal. O my kind Benefactor, my dear Lord, who is King of glory but Thee, O thou Most High? In these and such-like raptures my soul breaks forth; and I think I could say, with David, "I care not what men can do unto me," and "though I should walk through the valley and shadow of death, I should fear no evil;" it being so high a subject of love (the Redeemer of the world): I think no kindness could come up to it. I am now arrived to the age of eleven years; namely, Nov. 4th, 1752. I praise God I can remember no dreadful crime: and not to me, but to the Lord be the glory. Amen. It is now past eight o'clock, and now I think fit to withdraw, but yet my heart is so full of divine and holy raptures, that a sheet of paper could not contain my writings. May 16th.-I heard that my grandmamma said that my mother would bring me up a scourge to herself. This is the love of my grandmother, who before my face pretended kindness, but behind my back could stab me, by taking away my reputation with my mother. I went to my uncle Jack's; he never asked me to sit down (very rude). When I first came in he set an ill look, and made me repeat my message several times over, which Sir, mamma presents her service to you, and hopes you are well." He, having set a very rude look, asked me, "Why did not you come on Sunday?" I told him that I should have waited on him according to his desire, but that "I dah ton sehtolc tif ot emoc tuo fo a yadnus; and, beside that, we was, A language which I made when I wanted to put any thing down in private. [This private language is only reversing were in such tnaw fo yenom, that every day seemed two, and that I had not good sgnikcots. He never asked me to sit down, but sent my mamma owt_saeniug, and my aunt owt more: she gave me a shilling. July 15th.-Went to aunt Betsey's, who set forward a most dreadful quarrel, calling me names, &c. &c. &c. &c. &c.; and after the most abusive and gross language she bid me get out of the house. Mamma made it up; and on Sunday, 19th, I went and dined with her. 30th, Aug. 1st.-Went to Farnham the 25th: almost drowned, the cramp seizing me in a pool of water. Aug. 15th.-Evans, the King's scholar, was drowned. Mr. Emsted Bateman died the beginning of this unhappy year; and Coke (the evil son of a justice of peace), Mr. Lewis, Sarah Tate, and several others, have popt off this year. Aug. 30th. I have for this month past been very kindly invited to Mr. Lodwin's, in Norfolk; his son made me very genteel speeches, &c. Nov. 2.-Mrs. Loveday paid me a very genteel compliment, which I am very undeserving of; viz. she said I am a second Timothy, who from a child had known the Scripture. I do not set this down from my vanity, knowing every body's fair speeches are but compliments. Dec. 5.-I received a most abusive letter from my aunt Betsey. 19th, I heard my aunt Betsey had set my uncle at Deptford against me, telling him I had made my uncle John rude to her, in making him cut off her income. 23d.-Went to my uncle Jack's to dine. I ran the gauntlet sorely: for I carried two or three of my sermons to shew to my cousin Kitty, as she had often desired me: my uncle took hold of them, and read part of one, and asked "who's I got them out of?" I told him nobody. He shook his head, and said, "he knew what children can do before now." the letters of each word. A little pride seems to have mixed up with his se crecy.] I still urged that I really did not take them out of any one, but they were my own. He bid me hold my tongue, and not make it worse by denying it: "you cannot persuade beyond my senses; you know they are not yours, for you have taken them out of Bishop Andrews" (a fine Bishop truly, to make no better sermons than these!). He went on, " If you were my boy I would flay you alive" (a fine friendly expression from an own uncle!) "for doing such things, and fetch the truth out of you.' Sir, says I, it hath been the great care of my mamma, who hath laboured with me night and day, to avoid lying. I hope I scorn it, and I am sure I do in this particular. "Well," says he, "I have no business with it." A little after this Mrs. Bate came into the room, and Miss and she were in a close whisper, and now and then looked at 'me. At night I came home. 1753. Jan. 27th.-My aunt Betsey sent for me, and, after the most ungenteel treatment, flew at me and beat me sadly. 31st. Went to school all day: mamma in a very ill temper for the best part of the day. Feb. 9th.-Went all day to school. Jack Tempest owes me a penny. 10th. He paid me. 13th. Ten o'clock play; mamma was in a most terrible temper. March 4th.-A whole holiday: preached a sermon before my aunt on Isaiah i. 16, 17, verses. She gave me a shilling. 9th.-Mamma has given me a black velvet waistcoat, which I like vastly, because it is the first plain waistcoat I ever had, and makes me look grave, and like a man. It was the kinder in mamma, because last summer I had two blue waistcoats, &c. I put this down, that I may not forget mamma's kindness, but to be dutiful and grateful. 10th.-Had a vast bad hard slap from my usher, for all I carried him gold but the Thursday before. Had a letter from my uncle, Rector of the new church at Deptford; but I don't much care for him, because, when I went down to stay a day or two last Christmas but one, Mrs. Bate cut me fat meat, though she knew I did not love it; no more don't her children, yet she makes them eat it. Oh the difference there is between their mamma and mine! But I was determined I would not dine there the next day, though I knew nobody thereabouts but their dog; and 1 set off to wander all about Greenwich Park; and it was a mighty pleasure to me, because I looked great, as if I had dined somewhere else; for when I came home my cousins and Mrs. Bate asked me about it vastly, where I had been, &c.; but I was sure not to tell them, because it made me look like somebody. April 15th.-Sunday; went to Queen-square chapel; heard a good sermon. In the afternoon to the Broadway chapel; heard a most miserable hum-drum sermon, preached by Mr. Holt. 24th. Went to Mr. Clendon's; saw my Lord Mayor go in procession: went at night to the play, and saw "The Orphan, or the Unhappy Marriage." It is, on the whole, a very fine play, in my opinion; only I hate that sad part where the chaplain is pulled by the nose by Polydore. I dreadfully dislike to see poets turn their wit towards what is wrong; and it is disgracing the whole plot of the play to shew so great a disregard to religion; and when Acasto is sick, the chaplain comes bowing in, and speaks in a humble voice; Acasto says, "No fawning, I beseech thee: I'll do for thee when I die." This puts the Rev. Clergy on too low a footing, and ought to be eternally despised. The farce was "The Englishman in Paris;" it is as foolish a thing as ever I saw, in my low opinion. 29th.-The prayer I said on the last day of April: "Most benevolent Lord of all things, who governs thy chosen servants with the sceptre of mercy; look on me, O my Lord and my God; dispose my heart every way to what is strictly just and pious; guide me with thy Holy Spirit, so that I may spend the approaching month in equity and purity. Grant, O most merciful Father, that no accident nor casuality may happen to me this new month; but protect and keep me, O God of my salvation. Amen," May 6th.--Went to the Presby terian meeting-house, but I had enough of it. Oh the beauty there is in the religion which is established (among us)! So sweet a Liturgy creates devotion in every breast. My aunt gave me a great hunk of cake. 10th.-Pinnock says that he defies the "stratagems and temptations of the devil, and the provocations of men, and the fury of his own passions, to make him murder any man." I bid him beware, though strict, as others have split on the rock of presumption. of the churchyard door, by the minister's house, there is a walk with a little ditch on one side; and, instead of going on, you turn on the left hand over the fields, and there is a large place, like a moat, that runs round the minister's gardens, and supplies the town with water. In that very place I stripped myself and washed myself; my foot either giving way, or the cramp seizing me, which it was I cannot tell, being in great disorder, I sunk, and according to my account was some time under water, carried by the stream for the space of three away yards. I was insensible all the while I was in it, only preserving that I knew the water was running in at my mouth, which I could not shut, and in at my ears. I stopped at some rushes, and made shift to get on them; and so, in a vast perturbation, I got again on land. Mr. Woodward told me I stared like a madman for several minutes. Bob Trimmer told me, if I had been drowned he would have got me out. Said I, I thank you, but it would have done me more good if you had got me out while I was alive; afterwards my friends could have got me out. I shall never forget how my head ached, and what a great deliverance I had; for which I cannot return God thanks enough. 12th.-Walked over the bridge with my aunt: met my dear Boy (a dog that I love vastly). He is a grateful, good-natured dog. I love him more than any dog. He is just half a yard high, for I measured him; chiefly black, only his legs, which is spotted with white. His head is black, and shining; the lower part of his back black and white; he has a beautiful white Aug. 234.-On this day twelvemark round his neck, like a collar. month I was like to be drowned at I also know another dog—that is, Farnham, where I was born and Mr. Hancock's, in Turtle Street-his christened; and on that sad unname is Pompey: he will fly at any lucky day I say an annual prayer body that meddles with me; an in- I made on purpose. I went to stance which one Christian ought to church that day before I went into the shew to another: and therein most water, and perhaps for that reason dumb creatures are to be copied God saved me. In remembrance after; because every bird, dog, cat, of what an extraordinary escape and every animal, knows its bene- I had, I went now to St. James's factor and loves him. church, and put up a bill of thanks. Afterwards mamma and I took a walk to Hyde Park; we carried Boy (the dog) along with us. 15th. I believe I shall never forget my great deliverance on Aug. 25, 1752. I was walking out with some boys; and as you go out And well he might, for Presbyterianism in London had in those days wellnigh degenerated into the most meagre moralism, if not into Unitarianism. Sept. 2d.-Went to aunt Betsey's. is so vastly quarrelsome, in short She is quite out of the way. She she is so fractious and captious and insolent, that she is unfit for human society. Read the Bible; mamma one chapter and I another; and read also the Pilgrim's Progress. Poor mamma is a little out of temper. 4th.-Went to St.Clemans (quære, Clement's), where our Saviour's sermon was reading for the lesson. I stood up and said little ejaculations, such as, "Lord, make me merciful, that I may obtain mercy." 8th. Mrs. Stapleton came to our house, whom I treated with a pot of my plum-jam. If I had known she would have taken it, I would not have offered it to her. 15th.-Collected some of my old prayers together, with much trouble and pains. 16th. This is the last day of my holidays, to my sorrow. I read and prayed a great while at home. Oct. 8th.-Sat up late about my farce, which I intend to shew Mr. Garrick, master of Drury-lane playhouse. It is called Cyrrone. Nov. 4th, Sunday.-My birthday, on which I enter into my thirteenth year. 29th.-Lord Norris promised me to go with him to see the lottery drawn to-morrow. 30th. Was dressed on purpose to go with the dishonourable Norris till twelve o'clock, who promised to beat our house by nine. Fate defend me from such noblemen! Dec. 16th.-Went to uncle Jack's in Bloomsbury Square. I asked the footman if my uncle was at home. He said he was." I desired to speak with him. The man said "that my uncle had left word with him to bid me never come there no more, and that he would read neither letter nor message that comes to him from us." Pray God look upon it. Amen! I have done no more harm to him than a child unborn; I thank God I am conscious that I have not done any thing to the brute, nor do I know to what cause to attribute his un-uncly behaviour. We do not want his assistance, for we have another estate of my father's coming to us in March. 21st.-Carried an entertainment of my making, called "The Shepherd's Dispute, or Rural Queen," all in verse, to Mr. Garrick; he desired me to come at the end of the season, and he would look it over. 22d.-Mamma is in a dreadful temper. 1754. Jan. 27th, Sunday.-Went to St. Martin's church. Heard a poor mean sermon, and a very long one, by Dr. Piere, bishop of Bangor. The only good thing in it was when he said "to conclude." Feb. 2.-Wrote the following hymn : Great God and just, Almighty and Su preme, Whose bounteous goodness is above my reach, Thy grace shall be the subject of my theme, Gentle and gracious, and in mercy rich. Whilst I am thine, I dread no fierce assault, Renew my heart, and rectify each fault; Let not my ghostly enemy conspire And fill my mind with meekness like thine own. Make me for ever to continue thine : That every pious gift I may possess, Reform my life and every thought refine. Always my soul with sacred grace supply; From sin and every crime my mind defend; No evil will I fear whilst Thou art nigh, My Advocate and unabraiding Friend. I made but two scratchings in it, and it came all flop into my head without studying. May 18th. Dr. Wilbraham came to me. I keep my bed; had a shocking draught to take. Very hot and restless; cannot eat. 19th. The doctor came again. Oh how I burn! like firebrands. I thought the mud in the streets would do me good, better than nothing, to cool my parchings. Took two nauseous draughts. 20th.-Worse and worse, if possible. Attended again by the doctor, who always comes in his chariot. Let blood at night, by Mr. Clark; had rather a better night. 21st. The doctor again; worse than ever. Oh my cruel aunt! to make me go on the water in such a heat! Poor dear fatigued mamma is quite worn out; there has not passed a night but she has been up four or five times. The doctor came as usual. I have Mr. Varley for my apothecary. Very bad all day; hot and restless all night; sore in every joint. Rolled in my bed till eleven at night, and poor precious mamina got up, and went at that time of night to my doctor and apothecary. I was blistered at twelve: had a tolerable easy night. Attended by my doctor and apothecary. Had my blister taken off, and a plaster put on. 25th. Most marvellously better. The diary contains many other remarks and circumstances; but the whole would be too long, and the foregoing may serve as a specimen, PUBLICITY OF ORDINATIONS. Tothe Editorofthe Christian Observer. HAVING, in your volume for 1827, p. 151, offered some strictures upon the privacy, and inconvenient hours and places, at which ordinations were performed in the diocese of London, I think it but justice, both to the subject and the zealous and indefatigable prelate who adorns this important see, to record that his ordinations are performed with that solemn publicity which the occasion requires, and with those corresponding benefits which might have been anticipated. I need only contrast the Lent ordination of 1827, to which I alluded, with another two years after, to shew the beneficial results of the charge. At the former, more than thirty young men were ordained; but they did not even themselves know the time or CHRIST, OBSERV. No. 345. place of ordination twenty-four hours before the ceremony; so that, far from a full congregation being convened, their nearest friends, who made inquiries, and who wished to indulge themselves by being present at the solemnity, were unable to attend. The time fixed upon, was the unseasonable hour of eight o'clock of a winter's morning; and the place, the private, inaccessible Chapel Royal. I do not record this with. the slightest feeling of disrespect to the devout and learned and amiable prelate who then presided over the diocese of London, and who now, to the great delight of all good men, has been raised to a still more wide and influential sphere of ecclesiastical supervision. It had long, I believe, been the custom of the diocese; and I have heard some of the revered Bishop Porteus's candidates state that they were obliged to breakfast at a tavern at their ordination, notwithstanding it was Sunday morning; and that some necessary secular business which follows the ordination was transferred from the chapel to a neighbouring coffee-house. At all events, there was great hurry and confusion, with much unnecessary expense and inconvenience to the candidates, and the utter absence of that impressive and edifying spectacle which is afforded by an ordination publicly solemnized, amidst the prayers and sympathies of the assembled church. But how different has been the scene at recent corresponding solemnities! Take, for example, the ordination of last December, which I select because I find an account of it in a publication entitled The Pulpit, conducted, I believe, by Dissenters, and not likely to over-state the solemnity of the service. I should premise, that the ordination was conducted, not in a private closet, or at an unseasonable and uncanonical hour, but in the spacious church of St. James's, Westminster, and in full day, at the regular hour of public worship; and with due announcement of the 4 C |