Some

of which none of you have any real idea. times my mind is strengthened, but at others weakened by these reflections. I am sometimes comforted, at others terrified by these exercises of the mind. With what liveliness do the scenes of our northern tour press upon my mind: the lovely Isle of Bute with all its magificent scenery, the incomparable beauties of Loch Lomond, and Loch Long, with their hospitable friendships; the wild loveliness of Inverary, and Loch Awe; the fine views on the Firth of Clyde, with the moral and intellectual characteristics of many a kind friend; the steamboats, the carts, the cars, the mountains all associate with him, and are endeared to me beyond expression. I linger over the spots we visited together, from Lock Awe to Glasgow, Carlisle, Keswick, Woodhouse, Matlock, &c. to Turvey. I love to think of our private reading in my little bed-room at Rothsay; his first communion at Greenock, and then to connect all with his closing days. It is my weakness, my fault, my misfortune, that I cannot express more of my mind and feelings to you both. Dear, dear H! you are now become the prop and stay of my declining years, think much of the station in which God has placed you. My first-born is a distant wanderer, and God knows when or whether I shall see him again on earth. My second boy is taken from me, you are my third, but now my first. Be such to your two brothers, particularly to L

he needs your constant superintending care; watch over him, do not leave him to seek unprofitable associates; cherish the little germ of hope, which God has planted in my bosom concerning him, let your example influence, and your kind attentions encourage him in every good way, and think much of your own soul. Beware of declensions.-remember the last words of dear Wilberforce,-live up to his ad

vice. How my heart

yearns over you,

and all your prospects. What are you? What are you to be, my loved child? Write to me freely.

"And my Falso; are you as much alive to spiritual things, as when you hastened to the dying bed of dear Willy,-as when you wept over his coffin? My child, dread all decays, and may the flame of spiritual piety never grow dim amidst the mists of unworthier speculations. Visit the cottages,-forsake not the poor, for your Father's

sake.

"I have been this morning where you might least have expected to find me; but I went not from curiosity, but from a conscientious wish to know and judge for myself, viz. to the Roman Catholic Chapel in Moorfields, to hear high mass. I was astonished at the decorations, the gorgeous dresses of the bishop and priests, charmed with the exquisite beauty of the music, disgusted at the ceremonial mummery of the service, and unconvinced by the bishop's eloquent sermon in defence of transubstantiation. It was all illusion, delusion, and collusion. The service lasted near four hours. I bless God more than ever for true Protestantism. 1 shall hear the Messiah performed to-morrow. Such music I love, it lifts my soul to heaven. I am sick and disgusted with common light modern songs,-they are unfit for Christians. Oh! what music is my Willy enjoying in heaven. Shall we all enjoy it with him? The question often sinks me in the dust. My dear, my most dear children! press forward to the prize of the mark of our high calling in Christ Jesus. There is an immense gulph to be passed.Who is sufficient for these things?

Say truly kind and pastoral things for me to my dear people at Turvey. Truly I have them in my heart.--My children all, I kiss you from a

distance; believe how much and how tenderly I love you! *

66

*

*

P.S.-Monday.-I am just returned from hearing the Messiah. In the two grand chorusses, I thought I could hear my Willy's voice, and it quite overcame me. Past, present, and future, mingled in strange and affecting combination. These feelings are sometimes too much for your poor father.”

CHAPTER IV.

A man that is young in years may be old in hours, if he have lost no time.'-Bacon.

IT may easily be conceived with what anxiety Mr. R. would contemplate the removal of his boys from the paternal roof, when their age should render it unavoidable. The difficulty of placing young persons in suitable situations is greatly increased in the present day by the numbers who are pressing into every trade and profession, and by the modern practice of excluding youth from the master's family, a practice which may conduce to the comfort and convenience of the latter, but which necessarily exposes the clerk and the apprentice to the worst temptations. Mr. R. knew perhaps less than many other parents how to place out his children to advantage. He was not wise for this world, and though few had fairer opportunities or friends more able to advise and help him, he shrunk from availing himself of these advantages, to a degree which we cannot approve, while we respect his delicacy and paramount regard to the honour of religion. He was not the ablest counsellor under such circumstances, except indeed on one point, that the welfare of the soul should be the governing principle in the selection of a profession. He gave an unbounded liberty of choice to his children, with one exception, an exception which it is difficult to imagine would not equally be made by every Christian parent. The profession of arms, if not in itself unlawful, is so irreconcilable with

the spirit of a peaceable religion; and a life of comparative idleness or of activity amidst the horrors of destruction, is so repugnant to the principles and feelings of a disciple whose Master came not to destroy but to save men's lives, that a right-minded man can scarcely be supposed to admit a preference for it. Persons of undoubted piety have been discovered in camps as well as in peaceful fields, but it has generally been found that their knowledge of God was subsequent to their choice of profession. The Christian under an actual engagement in a service may decide "to abide in the calling wherein he is called," and honour God in his vocation; but this is a widely different determination from a choice made with the knowledge of peace and love in Christ Jesus.

One of those events which often inspire a preference for a soldier's life, I mean the show of military parade, excited this inclination in Mr. Richmond's younger son. To this choice Mr. R. expressed his dissent in the strongest terms. "Any thing but this," said he, "any thing but this-the very mention of a military life fills me with horror; I cannot bear to think of a child of mine engaging in scenes of bloodshed and destruction. No consideration on earth could extort my consent. It would make me really miserable."

The following letter to his daughter Fis the best transcript of his thoughts and feelings on this subject.

"I grant dearest F, you may charge me with the fault of which you have often been culpable; I have no very good reason to assign for delay, and therefore will rather take my share of blame, than furnish you with a bad argument, or a bad example, in the duty of letter-writing. rejoice in your account of Turvey, a spot that is always in my mind's eye, when not in my sight.

I