When you understand this, you will love him, and then you will be happy indeed; then it will be your pleasure to please him, and then putting your trust in him, you will be preserved from anxiety and

evil.

Your affectionate.

LETTER XI.

August 10, 1783.

MY DEAR CHILD,

"VANITY of vanities!" saith the preacher. "How vain are all things here below!" saith Dr. Watts; and you and I and your mamma, may say so likewise; for we all counted upon meeting last Sunday we listened at the door, and peeped out of the window, but no Betsy came.. When we heard by Miss that you were well, we were satisfied. Now we will venture to expect you next Sunday. Indeed, it is not amiss that you should now and then meet with a balk, that you may learn, if possible, not to count too much on what to-morrow may do for you; and that you may begin to feel the impossibility of being happy any further than your w is brought into submission to the will of God. In order to this, you must have your own will frequently crossed; and things do and will turn out, almost daily in one way or other, contrary to our wishes and expectations. Then some people fret and fume, are angry and impatient; but others who are in the Lord's school, and desirous of being taught by him, get good by these things, and some. times find more pleasure in yielding to his appointment, though contrary to their own wills, than they

would have done if all had happened just to their

wish.

I wish my dear child to think much of the Lord's governing providence. It extends to the minutest concerns. He rules and manages all things; but in so secret a way, that most people think he does nothing, when, in reality, he does all. He appointed the time of your coming into the world; and the day and hour of your coming from Highgate to us, depends upon him likewise nor can you come in safety one step of the road without his protection and care over you. It may now seem a small matter to you and to me, whether you came home last Sunday, or are to come home next Sunday ; but we know not what different consequences may depend upon the day: we know not what hidden danger you might escape by staying at Highgate last. Sunday. The Lord knows all things; he foresees every possible consequence, and often what we call disappointments, are mercies from him to save us from harm.

If I could teach you a lesson which as yet I have but poorly learned myself, I would put you in a way that you should never be disappointed. This would be the case if you could always form a right judg. ment of this world and all things in it. If you go to a blackberry-bush to look for grapes you must be disappointed; but then you must thank yourself, for you are big enough to know that grapes never grow upon brambles. So if you expect much pleasure here, you will not find it; but you ought not to say you are disappointed, because the Scripture warned beforehand to look for crosses, trials, and balks every day. If you expect such things, you will not be disappointed when they happen.

you

Vol. II.

I am your very affectionate.

C

MY DEAR CHILD,

LETTER XII.

October 15, 1782.

IT is rather to your disadvantage that I have lately corrected a mistake I had made. I thought you were but twelve years old last birthday; but I read in a blank leaf of the great Bible, that my child was born June 22, 1769; consequently, you are now in your fourteenth year. Therefore to keep pace with my ideas and wishes, you ought to be a whole year more advanced in improvements of every kind than you are, a whole year wiser. Some things which I might think very tolerable in my child, supposing she was but twelve years old, will seem but rather so so, when I know she is thirteen; and some things of another sort will be quite unsuitable at the age of thirteen, which might be more excusable if you were but twelve. You see, my dear child, you must stir your stumps, and use double diligence to fetch up this year, which we have somehow lost out of the account. You have a year less for improvement, and a year nearer to the time in which you will begin to appear like a young woman than I expected. I know not but I should have been pleased to find that I had made a mistake on the other side, and that you were a year younger than I had supposed you. As it is, I shall hope the best; I do not complain of you. As I love you dearly, so I have much comfort in you: and I trust you will pray to the Lord for yourself, as I do for you, that he may give you his grace and wisdom and blessing; then I know you will do well. But sometimes when I consider what a world you are growing up into, and what snares and dangers young people are exposed to, with

little experience to help them, I have some painful feelings for you. The other day I was at Deptford, and saw a ship launched: she slipped easily into the water: the people on board shouted; the ship looked clean and gay, she was fresh painted, and her colours flying. But I looked at her with a sort of pity :"Poor ship," I thought, "you are now in port and "and in safety; but ere long you must go to sea. "Who can tell what storms you may meet with here"after, and to what hazards you may be exposed; "how weather-beaten you may be before you return "to port again, or whether you may return at all !” Then my thoughts turned from the ship to my child. It seemed an emblem of your present state: you are now, as it were, in a safe harbour; but by and by you must launch out into the world, which may well be compared to a tempestuous sea. I could even now almost weep at the resemblance; but I take courage; my hopes are greater than my fears. I know there is an infallible Pilot, who has the winds and the waves at his command. There is hardly a day passes in which I do not entreat him to take charge of you. Under his care I know you will be safe; he can guide you unhurt amidst the storms, and rocks and dangers, by which you might otherwise suffer, and bring you at last to the haven of eternal rest. I hope you will seek him while you are young, and I am sure he will be the friend of them that seek him sincerely; then you will be happy, and I shall rejoice. Nothing will satisfy me but this; though I should live to see you settled to the greatest advantage in temporal matters, except you love him, and live in his fear and favour, you would appear to me quite miserable. I think it would go near to break my heart; for, next to your mamma, there is nothing so dear to me in this world as you. But the Lord gave you to me, and I have

given you to him again, many and many a time upon my knees, and therefore I hope you must, and will, and shall, be his.

I hardly know any accomplishment I more wish you to attain, than a talent of writing free and easy letters and I am ready to think, if you could freely open your mind to me, you might inform me of something I should be glad to know, or you might propose to me some things which now and then trouble your thoughts, and thereby give me an opportunity of attempting to relieve, encourage, or direct you. For these reasons I have requested of your governess to permit you now and then to seal up your letters to me or your mamma without showing them to her. I have asked this liberty for you, only when you write to us; nor even then always, but at such times as you find yourself disposed to write more freely than you could do if your letters were to be seen before you send them. I have likewise told her, that I would desire you to be as careful in writing as if she was to see your letters; and not send us pot-hooks and hangers, as they say," because you know she will not inspect your writing. Under these restrictions she has promised to oblige me; and I take it as a favour, for I am well aware that, in general, it is by no means proper that young people at school should write letters from thence without the knowledge of their governess. But yours has so good an opinion of you and of me, that she is willing to trust us, and I hope we shall neither of us make an improper use of her indulgence.

I

am, with great tenderness,

My dear child,

Your very affectionate father.